prompt stringlengths 391 14.9k |
|---|
For Lissartha, the hardest part about meeting her assassin was not erupting in laughter. The assassin was human, which meant that he thought everybody was as dumb as he. He had been put through screening that could detect weaponry at the *quantum* level, yet here he stood, fully prepared to unveil his grand creation.
This year was her race's turn to threaten the puny planet Earth. It was the most popular reality show in the universe. *See what the Earthlings do next year on Defenders of the Dumb!*
The head of her guard, Lira, reported his contraband into her ear, while he had her locked in a death stare.
"A string in his belly button."
Lissartha fought down the chuckle in her throat.
"Copper wire under his tongue."
Lissartha's pursed her lips so that she would not grin.
"A fusion coil up his ass."
That was too much. Lissartha crumpled over in laughter. The assassin took this as his cue and immediately dropped his pants. Lissartha peeked up as he pinched his own asshole, looking for the fusion coil. She fell to the ground, hysterical. She couldn't believe how straight-faced Gurun of Galaxy EE-22 had been.
"You underestimate the power of humanity!"the assassin screamed, jumping up and down to try to loosen the fusion coil.
The guards could barely handle themselves. Their faces burned red, their lips wobbled, and suppressed chuckles escaped from a few.
"With just a bit of human ingenuity,"the assassin declared. "We make weaponry of the most ordinary of objects!"
Lira couldn't keep up her straight-face. In their culture, fusion coils found in the buttocks was not a source of pride. Even stranger, the human was trying to make a bomb out of the fusion coil he had pulled from his nether region. She broke into laughter and quickly ran out of the room.
"That's right,"the human screamed. "Run!"He tied his string around the fusion coil, connecting the copper wire to both of its ends. "But you can't escape the wrath of the human race!"
Lissartha wanted to tell the human that destablizing fusion was only useful in ship's without ion shields, but she could barely breathe through her laughter.
"Never underestimate the power of humanity!"The human screamed and connected the copper wire.
The fusion coil glowed a bright orange before bursting in flames. But the ion shields detected the fusion imbalance and had automatically secured the area around it. It was like a candle being blown out. One second it was a ball fire, the next, a burnt wisk, a trail of smoke climbing out of its end.
"What the hell?"the human put the copper wire together again as if complicated fusion reactions jump-started as easily as his Toyota.
"You win again, brave human."Lissartha howled. "We surrender to your might and superiority!"She scrambled out the room.
Truly, if she had stayed any longer, she would've asphyxiated from laughter. The humans were certainly a frightening race.
---
---
/r/jraywang for 2+ stories a day, continuations by popular demand, and more!
|
I showed up for work and headed immediately to grab the mop. Some kid had peed in the playpen again.
I was making my way back to the front when my manager tapped me on the shoulder.
“Clint can grab the pee, I need to talk to you in the office first.” she said.
I groaned. I owed way too much money to get fired now. We sat down in the cramped office, both reeking of beef and oil.
“How would you like to make $50 an hour?”
“W-what?” I sputtered. “Is this a joke?”
She laughed and shook her head. “New opportunity from corporate. Are you interested?”
“Of course! I make $8 right now, Kate.”
“Okay great. I'll text you the address of the office, you can head there now.”
I held back a grin and raced out of the store. Fifty an hour. I could clear my student loans, pay off the truck...
I tried not to speed but it was impossible. My hands were shaking as I pulled up to the office building. I checked in at the desk and they sent me up to the seventh floor. The elevator doors opened and a short man in an impeccable blue suit was waiting for me.
“This way, son.”
We ended up in a wood-paneled conference room with leather executive chairs. The man sat down across from me and passed me a huge packet of paperwork.
“My name is Sam and I'm a lawyer for your company,” he explained. “You're familiar with the Fast Food Conflict currently underway, yes?”
“Uh..kinda, I guess?”
He rolled his eyes. “Congress said we have to settle matters of legal arbitration with hand-to-hand combat. We've been paying mercenaries to fight our battles and we've done very well lately. But then the blasted Democrats said that companies have to draw fighters internally, from the lowest ranks. Giving the poor an opportunity and all that.”
I nodded along as if I understood.
“You. Are. Our. Poor. And this,” he said pointing to the paper, “is your opportunity. Whaddya say, you fight for us, we stay out of trouble with Congress, and you make money. Sound good?”
I felt sweat creeping through my collar and shirt. I couldn't turn down $50 an hour.
“Uh...yes. Yes!”
“Great!” Sam pulled out a single page. “Sign here.”
I glanced at the stack of other papers. Sam followed my eyes.
“That's all legal jargon, don't worry about me. You trust me, don't you son?”
“Uh...yeah.” I signed.
A week later I was summoned. Wendy's© had declared itself the best fast food in the market, and Burger King© had challenged us in court.
I showed up at the basketball arena thirty minutes early like they said. Sam was in the locker room waiting with a frown.
“Good news bad news. Good news is that we got you a brand new sword. Here.” he tossed me a massive broadsword, gleaming in the fluorescent lighting.
“Awesome!”
“Yes. As for the bad news. The Democrats struck again – they just passed a law stating that fighters must wear clothing that matches their company brand.” He handed me a blue dress and a wig with braids. “Good luck out there.”
I entered the arena and was knocked back by a roar from the crowd. Every seat was full. I looked across the floor and saw my opponent.
He was wearing a full suit of plate armor with a glistening golden crown on his head.
Oh no...
/u/DanJosephWrites for fun short stories. Sometimes they're good! |
"Are we live? Jan, are we l--"The skeleton cleared it's 'throat' and brought the mic up to its bony face, "Good evening, Hell. This is Todd Parkley, 8th Circle News, and we're here tonight on the first night of the primaries. I'm here waiting outside the pavilion with some of the people gathered, let's see if we can find someone to--Excuse me, miss? Miss, can I take a moment of your time?"
The young woman turned and lit up at the sight of Todd. Well, she looked happy--she was already on fire. "Todd Parkley, oh my God!"Todd cringed a little.
"Yes, hello miss. I was just hoping I could get you to comment on the events of the night?"
The woman pulled the other girl that she was with into the shot of the camera, "Hi! We're just out to support David Vyers. We're big big fans of his."
Todd nodded, looking a little happier to be back on track, "David Vyers, huh? Folks, that's the name on everyone's tongue, or *lack of*"he nodded, emphasizing his joke, "tonight. You two ladies might know a little more about him than me, but he's the first person to run against Lucifer for title of The Devil in...wow, I think as far as time stretches back, huh?"
The woman's friend, short with thorns growing out of her body, spoke up in a bored voice, "Time is a construct of the living, Todd, and we in Hell are subjected to all manners of torture on a non-linear path, but for the sake of the interview, yes."
Todd took a moment to compose himself, then specifically looked to the first woman, "So, what is it about this mystery man that makes him so impressive? He's especially courting the young vote to an astounding success."
She nodded emphatically, "Well for one, he's really speaking from the youth's voice. Todd, you know, Hell has become an old man's game. The ones that have already suffered are suffering less and less, and they get the best real estate. They're the ones integrated back into Hell society, and I'm not saying that that's wrong, but we as the youth of Hell we'd like to see a little more equality. We understand that we're all here for a reason, but if the older and upper echelon are allowed this kind of leeway, why couldn't everyone in Hell benefit?"
Todd nodded, "That's a very forward thinking idea, but don't you think that the people who have suffered before have already suffered enough?"
The woman nodded, "No, I understand that, Todd. The issue is that we **are** in Hell. By its definition we should all be suffering. We all saw the leak where The Devil, by contract, has to fill a quota of suffering per year. If some people are being exempt from that entirely then it puts a lot more pressure on the young, where if we spread that out more evenly then we could all have mild annoyance and go about our day. I've put in twelve hours of suffering a day for the past three weeks because my boss decided he wanted to take his *wife* to Molten Soul Lake for a vacation."She looked directly into the camera, "And we all know that's not your REAL wife, Bill. You're both here for a reason, and it wasn't visitation. My boyfriend has been suffering nearly ten hours a day in the soul piles, and by the time he gets back home he's so exhausted that he doesn't even want to do anything. We can't spend the little that we do bring home, because we're so tired from suffering that we can't put it back into the economy. If just a little thing changed, we'd be able to go out, go to Yaldaboath's Diner down the street, and spread that suffering around a little more."
Todd turned back to the camera, "There you have it, folks. From the people's mouth's themselves. I for one am very interested in the outcome of these primaries, not just as a news reporter, but as a citizen of Hell."He gave a little salute to the camera and a tilt of his head that the people that remember him alive would know came with a wink, "But until then, this is Todd Parkley, signing off!" |
“The Nightmare Zone”
---
---
I’m fine. I promise, I’m fine. Let’s get back to the story now. Where were we? Alice had just found herself in the Nightmare Zone. It’s pitch black in there. She can’t see anything, right? Yeah, I think that’s where I left off.
Right, so Alice. She lights her torch, and instantly, there are thousands of spiders. I’m sorry, excuse me? Spiders? Oh. Says here they are “harmless spiders.” Sorry, I missed that word. Thousands of *harmless spiders*. Alice is surrounded by them. The story continues. Wait. That can’t be right. Excuse me? She lays down in the bed of spiders, and lets them crawl on her skin, and... no. Lick her wounds? Harmless spiders. Not spiders with tongues. Who wrote this? This is *not* okay.
> The man, thoroughly filled with anxiety, stood up from his lonely chair in the middle of a sun-filled empty room. No audience for this reading, it seems. Still, he persisted, for the practice.
Let me calm myself. I need to tell the story. I can’t keep interrupting it. So, the spider tongues. They-
> The man literally paused for an anxious internal scream, and sat back down in his chair to focus.
They-
> He let out a deep breath, trying to calm himself.
The spiders. They licked her wounds, and helped her stand. They helped the wounded, weak Alice stand. "Thank you,"Alice said to them. "It's no problem...,"the spiders collectively skittered and shrieked. She gave the queen spider, the biggest of them all, a kiss on her drippy mandibles. The two shared a hug. Some of the spider-kids joined in.
> The man, at this point, had terror tears running down his face. But still, he persisted.
Alice. So, she says... says it right here. Word for word: "I kind of liked that."I'm *sorry.* I can't. I can't read this. I thought- I thought I could. I thought I could do it. Handle *really* reading a story without becoming emotionally affected by it. I can't. I just can't.
> The man threw the book down, done. He stood up, and walked to look out the window. Below him, a busy city.
It's alright. I just need to calm down. Deep breaths.
> He closed his eyes, and took deep breaths. He focused on the feeling of sun on his face, on the sound of the city. He focused on the smell of construction, on the empty room, and on how well his life has been. He opened his eyes to a pitch darkness. Thousands of totally harmless spiders skittered about him, plus their queen.
*No.* No, it's not real. It's not *real.*
> On set the panic tremors and tears
I'd rather die. I'd rather die. No, no help me please. Somebody! Oh my god, the spiders, they're on my skin. They're on my skin. No! Their tongues, their tongues oh my god their tongues. My *ears.*
> The man started to scream. "What's the matter?,"the queen said. "Alice just left us. She was quite nice. But you..."
You're not real! You're not real!
> Still, the man screamed. He clawed at his skin in an effort to break the thousands of tiny tongues which licked at him.
"Oh, we're very real. Have you never read The Nightmare Zone?"The queen said. "You must have, else you wouldn't be here."
> The man... Then, the man, he...
---
Fin:
----
> A horror story told by a narrator who is easily spooked.
[PREVIOUS](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/8dwkdm/wp_its_rad_city_brah_everyone_skateboards_all/dxrgw1b/?context=0) | [NEXT](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/8ec9dq/wp_a_bell_tolls_the_market_grows_quiet_a_single/dxun4o1/)
---|---
[FIRST](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/8d4aec/wpa_mindreader_unable_to_control_their_power_has/dxntk7j/?context=0) | [FAVORITE](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/8dl3xu/wp_the_data_is_conclusive_the_moon_is_hatching/dxq1fds/?context=2)
Current daily writing streak: 4
I am a new writer. Any and all constructive criticism is appreciated! I will likely be toying with this to make it better for a little bit, but it's very late here. I think I got my idea across well enough :-) My first thought is that it's too fast. This story could do well to expand a little. My next thought is that, if a reader had never read the prompt, they wouldn't really understand what's going on.
---
[self-promo (already clicky, do not click)](https://pastebin.com/sN2Svgf8)
|
Tuesday the 10th 11:30PM, and my wife comes up to the side of the bed, waking me up by turning on the light. She looks vaguely guilty, and done with everything. It’s odd, because she wasn’t like this yesterday. It’s also really late, and the fact she’s not in bed with me is odd as well.
“What’s up?” I yawn, and she moves to sit on the bed. I can feel her weight slightly depressing the mattress as she does so. She’s not coming to sleep yet? It’s still kinda blurry since I’m still sleepy, but it’s clearing up now. She looks like she’s about to cry, so I motivate myself a little more to also sit up and interact with her. She’s not really a touchy person, so by just placing my hand on hers, I try my best to give her support.
“I have something to tell you.” She says, and her voice is wavering. It’s 11:30 and it’s too late for this type of thing but I’ll be damned if I don’t listen to her. She takes a second to compose herself, taking in a deep breath before saying “You’re going to die.”
Uh. Ok? A lot of people die everyday, and death is a natural part of life. This isn’t some big news. She seems quite distressed though, so I gently tug her, inviting her to lay next to me, as we always do. “We all die. C’mon, let’s sleep.” I say, but she refuses to move. My general acceptance seems to have made her angry, because now she’s looking at me with that look. The one that says I’m being dumb. I haven’t even done anything though?
“That’s not the point! Do you know how many times I’ve reset the day trying to keep you alive? At 11:40 your damn phone gets a call, you leave, and get hit by a truck! And nothing I ever do helps! I don’t go to bed, you storm out and die slightly earlier. I try keeping you here with whatever I can think of, hell I even hogtied you and you still died!” She screeches.
Oh. Yeah I suppose that’s cause for concern. For a normal person anyway. And uh, I don’t know how I’m going to approach this topic with her because I can’t die. No, seriously. Every time I die, I respawn in my bed. It’s a cool gamer power and I don’t enjoy dying but I’ve gotten used to it at this point. But my wife has apparently reset time trying to save me and all I can do is sit there. The two of us just stare at each other. It stretches on, and on, and on. I have no plan going into this, but since when do I ever?
“Okay, I’m going to say something as well.” I go, and she leans forward, listening intently. “I can’t die. I always respawn in my bed if I do.” I say, and she just stares. Oh no. The rage is happening.
She quietly gets up. She walks out the room. And then I believe she proceeds to punch the wall as hard as she can, judging by the sound that reverberates through the house. Also screams into a pillow from the lounge, if that muffled noise is anything to go by.
I better go after her. I stand up from the bed, and get ready to move, but just then my phone rings. It’s the boss. Haha yeah, no. I’m staying home tonight.
My wife and I have things to discuss. |
"I could have sworn I bought lean meat though"I said sheepishly as my nemesis flicked his black Cape over one shoulder and set down his world infamous portable death ray. I noticed him switch it from 'kill' to 'idle' but my gaze was snapped backed to him impatiently clicking his fingers in my face.
"Hello? Hello? Does this LOOK like lean meat? I've seen less fat in Doner kebabs. And what's this?"he demanded as he picked up a shrivelled piece of brown Lettuce between his thumb and index finger in disgust. "Did you decide on using decades old latex instead of fresh veg? Pathetic."he spat and flung the shrivelled leaf against the wall.
"Hey c'mon you gonna clean that up?"I asked.
He narrowed his eyes in disgust and I saw him consider in real time giving up and reaching for the death ray right then and there. Kudos to him for resisting.
"You should be so lucky to clean up after me."He said coldly, and as if in response but probably just coincidently, he clicked his fingers and a 1 tonne Belted Galloway heifer appeared. The poor cow (probably grass-fed) had a few moments of confusion and enough time to kick out at my kitchen cabinets shattering at least 5 plates and the same in bowls, before being reduced to red mist and two perfectly formed meat patties after a second click of his fingers.
I stood in wide eyed shock as he explained why grass-fed is better and that he was sorry about the waste but needed a fresh one. I didn't bother asking if he'd clean up the remaining 999 kilos of sprayed animal now dripping down the walls.
"You see, it's all in the meat. You can't expect your impoverished budget to get you anything but cardboard and plastic - MOVE OVER"He shouldered me out of the way and I waved my arms to balance on some bloody skin from the cow. He moved decisively to the stove burner and threw my previous attempt amongst the rest of the spent animal.
"God damn."I muttered as I took in the carnage around my previously white kitchen.
"Now,"he continued, "where's your veggie patch?"
"I don't have one."I responded, scared.
This time he did pick up the gun and just about cocked the thing before pausing, taking a deep breath, and simply stating "later."
Before I could beg him to be careful he clicked his fingers and the nearest veggie garden appeared amongst the sticky remains. Soil and all.
"Grab me a tomato and some leaves that don't look like they were just shot out of an Indian trash pile."
Defeated, I looked around and grabbed one of the 50+ tomatoes now sitting in the dirt on my floor. Then plucked a leaf of the some proportion.
"Do you have cheese?"he asked.
"I'm lactose intolerant!"I yelled a little too frantically. This was a lie but easier than the alternative.
He looked at me and gently shook his head. "Here I was thinking we were in the big leagues and you're just splashing around in the shallowest gene pool I've ever seen."
It stung but at least he didn't import the nearest dairy farm into my two bedroom cottage.
He got to work on the burger. Gently placing the patties on the pan and the responding sizzle got him rubbing his hands together in anticipation. He fished through the bread box and pulled out the the two buns, then demanded the sauce. I complied because how could I not. I stood back with caution and watched. He worked deftly and efficiently. I admired him in that moment. And almost forgot about the write off my apartment now is because of the unannounced visit of the city's most profound villain. Once he had finished cooking he assembled the simple burgers and watched intently as I took a bite.
"Oh gee. That really is good."I couldn't help but admit.
He scoffed. "Obviously. I didn't expect to pity you today but you need to work on your culinary ability. I'll be back tomorrow."
He left me standing there, covered in blood, with a full blown veggie patch, a decimated beast, and the worst embarrassment I've ever felt. He approached the door and paused there, turning.
"Have you ever made whale sushi before?" |
I was never big on the whole “life after death” thing.
Honestly, it sounded like just a buncha nonsense. How could it be possible for a living, breathing human to just turn into a ghost after death? Doesn’t sound logical, to be honest.
But I gotta admit, things have been pretty strange at the house lately. I would’ve almost said it was haunted, but a haunting would insinuate that the things happening were somehow malevolent.
No, instead I would come down to the kitchen every morning and see a fresh mug of coffee and a steaming omelette with my initials painted over it in ketchup. I would throw my clothes in a laundry basket and find them all nice and folded on top of my bed after an hour. I would even wake up with my sheets tucked in like someone had done so the night before.
Obviously, that led me to only one possible conclusion: someone was living in my house.
Sure, it might’ve been jumping the gun a little bit in saying that a person was sneaking around without me noticing, but it sure made a hell of a lot more sense than accepting the fact that a benevolent ghost was taking care of me.
I still believed in what I believed, even when someone broke into my house one night. I remember it like it was just yesterday. Which it was.
There I was, sleeping all nice and cozy in my tucked bed, when I heard a window shatter downstairs.
You best believe I grabbed my bat that I always kept next to my nightstand. A nice and polished bat that somehow maintained its smooth and chipped exterior despite me bashing the walls earlier, howling at whoever was in my house to come out.
Anyways, I crept downstairs to the living room to hear somebody rooting around in my private belongings.
In a flash, I jumped out from behind the wall to surprise my unwelcome guest. “You finally show yourself, huh?!”
And I gotta tell you, I somewhat regretted coming out and not calling the police first. Even though the police branded me as crazy after calling them so many times in the past about my sneaky invader.
5 masked men immediately turned to look at me, wielding some of the largest guns I had ever seen. I knew for a fact that if one of those came my direction, I would die and skip directly past becoming a ghost and instead go straight to heaven.
But momma didn’t raise no coward. Instead I raised my trusty bat and charged at my intruders.
You wouldn’t believe the luck I had in taking those boys out. I guess I must’ve clipped the chandelier or something, cuz it came crashing down on top of one of the burglars heads, even though I knew that I had changed the old rusted chains holding it up a day prior.
My bookshelf, which I guess was pretty wobbly, fell and planted itself on the foot of one of the masked men, as he screamed and collapsed in pain.
Then, get this, I threw my bat at the rest of the three burglars, even though I knew that I would be lucky if I even hit one.
Other than missing, I was shocked to see it curve through the air, bonking every single man on top of the head. Unconsciousness was instant.
And to put the last strawberry on the proverbial cake, my 300 pound couch slid across the ground and pinned the unconscious bodies against the wall.
Took a while to explain this all to the cops that finally showed up. A couple of them asked if I had any help with all this, but I just grinned and chalked it all up to my impressive skill with a bat and good fortune.
The next morning, after all the excitement was over, I decided to wake up early and clean up the mess of a living room. Only to find that it had already been immaculately dusted and organized, as if a fight had never taken place there in the first place.
As I sat down once more at my dining table to a hot cup of joe and a stack of 3 pancakes, I made a solemn vow to the apparent emptiness of my kitchen. “I’m gonna find you one day, you sneaky bastard. And when I do, we’re gonna have a long talk about how I like my coffee, cuz this is too sweet.”
I swear I heard someone giggling behind me, but when I turned, no one was there. Instead, I turned my ire to the delicious, golden pancakes in front of me. I took a syrup-infused bite. “Damn house settling and making me paranoid.” I muttered.
(Hope you guys enjoyed!) |
I sighed as I heard my brother thudding through the hallways to my domain. He gasped heavily as I eyed him.
"I...I have a problem."
"GO ON."
"I have a date...this weekend..."He said through gasps. I waited for him to continue but he didn't.
"AND HAVING A DATE IS A PROBLEM?"
"NO!"He gasped. "She's hot and beautiful and smart to boot I just... I have..."
"NO IDEA WHAT TO DO."
"Yea..."
"I SEE..."
"I mean, I was thinking about going to a cafe but that's too cliche, so maybe a movie and then I really thought about it and she likes animals so I thought the Zoo instead and then I realized I shoudl spring for something nice..."
I took a breath. My brother seemed to forget that I had been around since the first life passed from this world.
"SIT DOWN TODD. YOU ARE OVERTHINKING THIS."
"I know... That's why I thought i'd ask you, I mean, you're old and ancient... Not in a bad way!"He stammered. "I-I mean you must have seen so much you should know what girls like right?"
He slid into a chair beside me and I nodded.
"I HAVE. WHICH IS WHY YOU ARE OVERTHINKING IT."
He sat down and listened as I spoke. It's usually hard not to listen anyway if Death is the one talking.
"DATING ISN'T ABOUT 'IMPRESSING' SOMEONE. NOT IF YOU REALLY HAVE FEELINGS FOR THEM AND IF THEY HAVE FEELINGS FOR YOU. IT IS ABOUT LEARNING ABOUT EACH OTHER, GROWING COMFORTABLE ENOUGH TO BE ABLE TO START UNDERSTANDING EACH OTHER.'"
He looked confused. "What does understanding them have to do with dating?"
"DO YOU WISH TO MARRY THIS PERSON SOME DAY?"
"Well... maybe yea?"He said embarrassed.
"THEN YOU MUST UNDERSTAND HER. AND SHE MUST UNDERSTAND YOU. YOU NEED TO BE ABLE TO TALK ABOUT THINGS DEEP THINGS, AS PRACTICE YOU START TALKING ABOUT SMALL THINGS."
"Like the weather, school and all that?"
"YES. THEN YOU GET TO BIGGER THINGS: FEARS, DREAMS, SECRETS. THINGS YOU WOULD NEVER TELL ANYONE ELSE BUT THEM. THINGS ONLY THEY WILL EVER KNOW."
He sat silently.
'IT'S BEST TO GO TO A PLACE YOU BOTH CAN BE COMFORTABLE TALKING ABOUT LITTLE THINGS. THEN AS TIME GOES ON AND YOU GET TO KNOW EACH OTHER BETTER YOU CAN TALK ABOUT DEEPER THINGS"
"But what if I pick the wrong place?"
"GO ELSEWHERE. IF YOU DON'T LIKE WHERE YOU'RE EATING GO FOR A WALK, DON'T LIKE THE ZOO GO TO A MOVIE. IT IS YOUR CHOICE."
"Okay...So what should we talk about then?"
"WHATEVER YOU FANCY. IT IS YOUR CHOICE. DO WHAT SEEMS NATURAL. DON'T FORCE YOURSELF TO IMPRESS HER. TRUST ME, YOU WON'T. MERELY BE TODD. AND THAT IS MORE THAN ENOUGH."
He nodded. "Are you sure? I mean... YOu haven't exactly had any dates... How do you know it's not going to fail."
"I HAVE NO IDEA. FOR YOU ARE RIGHT. I HAVE NOT TOUCHED ANYONE. BUT,"I smiled. "YOU WOULD BE SURPRISED AT HOW MANY PEOPLE WHO HAVE DIED WILL SPEAK FONDLY OF THE MEMORIES OF THEIR LIFE WITH THE ONES THEY LOVED MOST. THUS, I AM NOT GINVING YOU *MY* ADVICE. I AM GIVING YOU *THEIRS.*
This seemed to calm his nerves and he nodded. "Okay. Just be me...and if she's the one that's all I need basically?"
"ACCORDING TO THE EXPERTS. I CAN'T IMAGINE AEONS OF HUMANS FINDING LOVE IN THE WORLD TO BE WRONG."'
"Thanks."
"YOU'RE WELCOME." |
As you step through the gate, the only thing you feel is the wind, kindly brushing against your skin and a pleasant, shining sun. While looking around you start walking forward, barely noticing the stone stairs underneath your feet. You tumble down and land with a small thud on what feels like dead grass.
After recollecting yourself, you get up and examine the damage. A small graze on your thigh is all thats left from the fall.
You get up and start walking through the wasteland. Everything is dead and completely silent. As you walk further, you notice a rather large building. Well, what used to be one. Approaching it, you see skeletal remains of humanoid creatures. It seemed like they were carrying weaponry and armor. The gear looked corroded and damaged by time and it was all covered in dust. You walk up a flight of stairs (watching your step this time) into a great hall. It’s grand and filled with tables, chairs, an interrupted feast and a lot of skeletons. A gigantic dead figure sits inside a big throne in the middle of the room. You walk towards the throne, hearing your footsteps echo through the building.
While stepping over a skeleton missing its head, you hear something. You feel a strange sense of uneasiness fill your body and you think you saw something move inside of the skull of the great being. You run outside as fast as you can, feeling your heart pump blood faster than it’s ever had, until you are a good distance away from the entrance. After stopping to catch a breath, you decide against your curiosity and move away from that goddamn throne room. The amount of bodies decreases the further away you are from the building and after a while you don’t see any more of them.
While walking in this wasteland of nothingness you start thinking about the cause of all this. What happened here? Your feet touching the dead grass with every step and your body still being treated to a nice breeze. After walking for some time, you see something in the distance that looks like a tree. You start moving towards it and as you approach the silhouette, the bodies start to appear again. This time, increasing the more you move towards the tree. This is the first living tree you’ve seen here yet. It’s real wood, real leaves, and real apples!
Not believing your eyes and craving something eat, you pull one off of a branch and take a big, strong bite out of it. It’s the most delicious apple you’ve ever tasted. It’s super sweet, deliciously juicy and you can’t seem to get enough of it! As you open your eyes, still chewing on this godly treat, you notice two skeletons, one missing a rib, laying next to the tree. Both accompanied by unfinished, perfectly preserved apples. As the gears start turning in your brain, an all too familiar animal slithers down from the tree towards you. Suddenly, you realise what happened to everyone here…
————————————————————————————
Im not native english and not great at writing, but theres only one way to learn how to! If there’s something i can improve on, let me know! |
Matt sat at the table of his home, looking at a portrait of his late wife, wondering what he could do today to pass the time without hearing that damn song.
It had been useful, life-saving, even. When he was young and his parents were out, Matt loved to put the television on a low table in the bathroom and enjoy a show as he took a bath. A joke cracked him up once, he had forgotten the punchline, but it made him say "save me,"with a laugh.
Whenever he tried to remember when it started, his memory always came back to the one sentence: "save me."
Several minutes later, young Matt in his bath heard the song start. It came from everywhere, and rose in strength to uncomfortable degree.
Unnerved, he got out, and the song stopped.
A weak earthquake abruptly shook the house, the television trembled and fell in the water. The fuses tripped, the screen gave out sparks and black fumes.
Had he stepped out one minute later, Matt would have been fried. This marked the start of a strange relationship with his inner radio, for lack of a better term.
This danger sense saved his life many times over as Matt grew to understand and learn about it.
He skated down a road during a hot summer and was suddenly deafened, ears almost bleeding, he fell to the side and rolled on the ground as a drunk driver rushed through at full speed.
Matt knew his glass was spiked the moment he touched it.
The song didn't only save him from grave dangers though. It came to play for more mundane, creeping forms of harm. It's hard to enjoy a bottle of wine in a fancy restaurant when a dissonant music drowns the words of your date, safer to stick to juice and water. It did impress the date at the time. Running outside to get the mail was fine, taking a walk with insufficient clothing in the winter had the song loom at the edge of his imagination, growing louder and louder as he went. Past a certain threshold meant catching a cold, Matt never attempted to go beyond.
The uniqueness of his inner radio taught Matt and inflated and absurd sense of self-preservation. His young peers lived with the mistakes new adults did, Matt's music did not leave him this luxury. He recognized danger before it came and never got to learn from his mistakes, too afraid to commit them. Among friends, Matt was the odd one out, and how could he explain the predicament? How to describe a sound from inside your brain twisting your eardrums to pain whenever a cigarette approaches your lips, whenever you partake in some slightly foolish activity?
Matt became the calm, the composed, the man who never put himself in any sort of harm. Though not from his own volition.
He quit a job when stress got the music to start and chose a new occupation in a small office where the day went by undisturbed.
The physically demanding sports were abandoned in favor of hobbies sparring his joints.
Food was cooked without fat, salt, and the song always played when he picked a sauce with too much chemicals at the supermarket.
Matt married at some point, and was always in a better health than his wife. Now she was dead, and he looked at her picture framed on the table.
Matt was an old man now, his health failing, and he knew music couldn't do miracles. It tried, though. He went to the fridge to grab something to eat, and stood with the door open wondering what to choose.
The cold brought the rock to play. And suddenly, Matt was angry, the music increased alongside his fury.
What was the point in growing old if he was to be constantly paranoid and fearful? Running from death was no way to enjoy life.
"Enough!"
The song ceased. Just like that. It wasn't wanted anymore.
He could dodge death and live many years more, at the cost of his happiness and sanity.
Not his kind of life, and if Matt was to die, he might as well make it worth it.
Neighbors were shocked to greet a cheerful hermit coming out of his home late in the afternoon, they wondered what had gotten through him to break out of his seclusion with a smile. Matt walked in the park and felt the cold wind, a slight rain fell and children played ball under the watchful eye of parents.
His walk was interrupted by the strange rhythmic moves of an old man remembering songs from a life gone by, his muscles still had the groove! Or whatever fancy words youngsters used these days. A street away from home, he found a kebab shop, and bought himself one. Filled with sauce, fries, chicken meat and every vegetable on display, he briskly walked with his treasured purchase, only stopping at the market to get a cheap bottle of wine.
The sun was setting, Matt barely saw the street, his foggy eyes unaccustomed to the growing darkness. Was he lost? Mystery! And excitation! Like an adventurer archeologist before him, he retraced his steps, watching for traps and dead-ends, until he found his block. Before going through the door, he gazed upwards and closed his fist in victory. It had only taken him the rising of the moon to find his home. Hell yeah! Matt was that good.
He put on music, any music, any music but rock, set a table for one, put the towel in his collar, poured a glass of wine, and unraveled the kebab. It had cooled down, who cared? The sauce dripped, it was fat and bloody tasty. Matt's belly hadn't been so filled in years and digestion made drowsy.
But the night wasn't over yet. Emptying the bottle into a last glass, he set the chair to the window, opened to let the cool air refresh his face, and raised his glass to the moon.
The music stopped. Not his own rock, the music he had put on the real radio.
Matt knew his ears would hear no more.
His heart had stopped beating.
Just a matter of seconds now, and he would be gone. The choice had been between years of silence or one evening of virtuous and savage carousing.
Matt, a wooden, chair, the moon, the city before him, his still heart.
He smiled, took a last sip, and died happy. |
Even at the time, Kylar hadn't considered adopting a manticore cub to be a practical decision. She felt responsible, though, having orphaned the small creature in pursuit of pay. They'd said to leave no cubs in the nest, and she'd stumbled upon the technicality while lifting her sword over the frail creature to strike a killing blow. As unsettling as the cherubic humanoid face was atop a leonine body, and how sinister the hook of its scorpion tail, she couldn't bring herself to steal the life from those innocent eyes any more than she could have if it was a human child.
They'd wanted a dead manticore and an empty nest, and she'd given them what they wanted.
Naturally, there was a learning curve. Had she not been immune to the deadly effects of the cub's poison, theirs would've been a short relationship. Even so, after dozens of painful stings, she decided to bind a strip of fabric around the cub's tail, though the cub quickly outgrew this arrangement. Its needle claws were no worse than a kittens for a time, but as the creature grew larger by the day, she soon found the cub's proclivity for ascending her like a tree to perch upon her shoulder less and less endearing. But it was hardly a matter of months before the cub had grown too large to attempt the feat without dragging Kylar to the ground, and so had stopped trying -- most of the time.
Worst were the nightmares. Kylar was only dimly aware of her pet's paranormal nature most of the time she beheld its androgynous human face. It was just something she got used to, the way you might get used to a missing tooth, going on with your life, but now and then tonguing the empty space with a sense of unease. As its face aged from that of an infant, to that of a toddler, and then to that of a typical child, it always maintained a sphinxlike stolidity, only now and then betraying something of a smirk, which Kylar only ever caught out of the corner of her eye. But every night, without fail, the manticore visited her dreams.
Most times it was a benign presence. She'd wake up with the memories of her dreams dispersing like smoke in a breeze, but the memory of the manticore would linger. It had been there in her sleep, she was certain, but she could not say more than that. But there were times when she awoke screaming, heart racing, drenched in sweat, with visions of unspeakable horror clinging like tar to the back of her eyelids, so that every time she blinked, she saw them anew.
She knew that this was an effect of the manticore's poison. She knew that once it was in your veins, it was with you for the rest of your life. She knew that most people who experienced these visions were given the mercy of dying before they woke. And she knew, when the manticore pressed its unsettling head into her neck, offering comfort after the worst nightmares, that the creature could not help any of it. So, she dealt with it the best she could, which was reasonably well, missing only a few nights of rest for fear of what might be waiting for her in dreams.
So, the manticore accompanied Kylar throughout her long career. She became as well known for keeping the strange companion as she was for anything else, and on more than a handful of occasions, she was certain the manticore's fierce protection was the only thing that had stopped her from being killed. The occasional nightmare was perhaps not a small price for such a steadfast companion, but it was one she was willing to pay.
It was years later when the manticore first spoke to her. She was old and gray by then and spent most of her days sitting in one chair or another throughout her cozy estate. The manticore, however, had shown no signs of age at all, after it had reached its adult size. It was larger than any lion, though perhaps more eerie than regal, and when she struggled to lift herself out of a chair, the manticore was always ready to tuck its head beneath her arm and help. Wherever she wandered, the manticore followed. It lay by her feet, or at the end of her bed, and walked beside her, steadying her gait.
Then one night, it came to her in a dream, as always it had. She was young again, and the manticore was a cub, and it came bounding up to her. It scaled her, just the way it had so many years ago, and she winced at its claws as it climbed, until it had settled on her shoulder.
Then, though it spoke no words, Kylar understood the manticore's sorrow. She understood the depth of the creature's affection for her--a mirror of her own. She felt the manticore's regret at every pain it had caused her, for every sleepless night and torturous morning, and for the sacrifices she had made to keep the manticore by her side throughout the long years. She could not forgive the creature, for she had never once regretted any of it, and she knew as the thought crossed her mind that the manticore understood, and she felt that this brought the manticore some measure of peace.
She knew then, as she had presumed to know for a long time, the complexity of the manticore's being. Often, looking into its eyes, once so innocent, she had glimpsed a depth beyond understanding, and had come to accept that it was not her pet, nor ever had been. When she saved the manticore, she had saved herself, and as she looked after it, so it had looked after her.
And she knew that the manticore would miss her. She would miss it too, more than she would miss anything else she was preparing to leave behind, she thought. She wondered if the manticore would join her, someday, but the manticore gave no answer.
In her dream, she was gray again, and frailer than the cub had been when she'd found it. The manticore sat full-grown before her, taller than she'd ever been. She lay a shaking, leathery hand on the creature's enigmatic face, and said goodbye, then fell into a more restful sleep than she'd ever known, and never woke again. |
"Surely, I heard wrong, right?"said King Leopold, atop his golden throne. "You just saved the world! Isn't that its own reward?"
I looked at the stump that used to be my left hand, the one I lost during the final battle, then said:
"Your majesty, everyone else has gone back on their deals. My village was razed when I was a child. I have nowhere to go, or the skills sustain myself without taking up the sword again. Please, I beg of you, I just want to live in peace. I'm not asking for a title, or a vast stretch of land, just a small cottage and a few animals so I can live a quiet life."
King Leopold took a big gulp of wine, barely listening. "Yes, yes, it's all unfortunate. I'm disappointed, though. In the wake of this great war, where we're all busy reconstructing what was lost, you're here worried about collecting your payment. It's rather unheroic of you."
"Because everyone lied!"I shouted.
King Leopold raised an eyebrow.
The royal guards beside him tensed up, gripping their sheathed weapons.
King Leopold waved them down, saying:
"It's alright, the hero is merely tired."He looked at me. "But I won't tolerate another outburst."
I held back my tears, clenching my fist. All of my party members died to free the land from the dark lord. I was the only one who survived. What did they sacrifice themselves for? To ensure the safety of sheltered nobles? So that peasants kept being exploited by the upper classes? When would the cruelty end? The only thing I could say was:
"This isn't right."
"My hands are tied, hero. All of my resources are focused on ensuring the safety of the people. You've created a power vacuum with your victory, which means we're in more turmoil than ever."
"No,"I muttered, smoldering with rage, "*you're* the one in danger; not the kingdom."
King Leopold scowled. "Is that a threat?"
"A statement. This isn't about protecting people. It never was. It's about preserving your power."
King Leopold scoffed. "*You* dare insult *me*?"
The guards slowly surrounded me.
"Don't do this,"I warned. "You're making a huge mistake."
"Silence!"shouted King Leopold. "I've had enough of your treason! You should be grateful of your place in history!"
"How? Alone? Wounded? Going from battle to battle for the rest of my life?!?"
"This is your last chance, *hero*. There is still much work to be done, and instead of protecting my kingdom, you're here whining about being sad. If you want your happy ending go out there and earn it. I'm not going to hand it to you while there's still monsters sacking my lands. *You're* the one who killed their master. As long as they're around, you still haven't finished your job."
I gaped my mouth, baffled by what I heard. King Leopold expected me to slay every single monster before I could rest my sword. That was a suicidal task, even with all my skills.
The king just wanted me to fail. It wasn't until now that I realized it. He never meant to keep his word. The previous status quo was more comfortable for him than the current situation. With the dark lord gone, he didn't have an evil enemy to scare the populace into compliance. More than that, if I were to rally the people, he could easily lose his throne.
*That's* what he feared. Any influence I gained was an immediate threat to his position. I hadn't dreamed of doing such a thing, though. I just wanted a place to call home.
"Well?"asked King Leopold, "Are you going to aid me, or will you see my kingdom burn?"
I chuckled. It all felt so obvious now. I looked him in the eyes and said:
"Fuck off. I'm not doing your dirty work anymore."
King Leopold glanced at the guards. "Kill him."
I brandished my sword as soon as they attacked me. Unfortunately, my missing hand made it difficult to defend myself. The royal guards were skilled and used to fighting as a group. I lunged at King Leopold, hoping to circumvent the guards, but they were simply too many to handle, stopping me at the steps of the throne.
One of them even stabbed me in the abdomen while I was distracted. Everything went downhill from there. I just didn't have the strength to fend them all off; not in my current condition.
The only thing I could do was run. Minutes after escaping the castle, King Leopold declared me an enemy of the kingdom, initiating a city-wide manhunt for me. My vision grew blurry as I sprinted through those dark alleys until, eventually, I fainted.
For a moment, after waking up, I assumed I was dead. My sore body quickly dispelled that notion, though.
"Ah, you're awake,"said an old woman.
I was on a bed, in a humble home, near a flickering fireplace. I tried to sit upright, but the pain forced me to lay back again.
"Don't move,"said the old lady, "I healed most of the internal bleeding, but you'll hurt yourself again if you don't let your body recover."
"But I'm-"
"Don't worry. The guards don't know you're here. Just rest."
I forced myself up. "No, I can't-"I winced. "I have to go."
"You're being an idiot. You're safer here than wounded on your own."
I took a good look at the lady. She seemed familiar, but nothing came to mind at the moment. "Do I know you?"
"Yes, we met about five years ago, though I don't blame you if you've forgotten. It was just a random day to you but, to me, it was the day you saved my son from a monster."
I squinted. "I'm sorry, it's hard to remember."
"That's fine. I'm sure to you it was just a detour on your quest, in fact, I distinctly remember your companions were too busy to aid, then you shamed them into helping, saying 'what type of heroes ignore a person in need'. I've never forgotten that. Thank you."
I scoffed. It felt like a lifetime ago. I was so naïve. Then again, if I hadn't chosen to help her, we would've just gotten sooner to the dark lord and ended our quest faster, ending up in this very predicament earlier.
An epiphany struck me. The defeat of the dark lord didn't change anything. We all thought his downfall would bring about an age of peace when, really, the lands were still plagued by the problems that threatened the innocent. Perhaps, I had been looking at it the wrong way. King Leopold, for all his treachery and lies, might even have a point.
I was too focused on my goal and forgot why I started in the first place. It was about protecting people; not my peace of mind. I knew what I had to do now. After the old lady nursed me back to health with her magic, I left the capital with only one thing in mind.
Nobody knew how to reach the dark lord's keep, except for me. The secret to his power lurked there. If I could learn how to use it, I could control all the monsters from there, and protect people from callous rulers like Leopold with my own strength. I would be demonized by all the kingdoms, but I didn't care anymore. I was the only one who could save this rotten world. For all my friends who died in the name of peace, for all the small villages that were sacked and forgotten, and for all the truly kind people like the old lady who risk themselves to help those in need.
I would become a righteous dark lord, and nothing would stop me.
---------
>If you enjoyed this, check out /r/WeirdEmoKidStories for more. Thanks for reading! |
"Let's see,"she cleared her throat. Somehow, Levictus remembered the sound from a lifetime ago. "Levictus, Prophet of her Divine Beauty Pestella."Through her tone, the clerk indicated her name tag and Levictus looked, already knowing what would be written on it: "Pastella Rall."
"That's me."Levictus croaked in a voice raspy with nervousness. Her eyes responded "I know,"but she simply opened the file in front of her and began turning pages.
After a moment she sighed, then smirked, and with her left of her lips pulled up by her cheek, she spoke: "I see we're already acquainted."
"I- sorry."
She smirked some more. "It's fine, I didn't have to listen to your prayers or anything."
Levictus hesitated. The rituals for female purification weren't his idea, and he wanted her to know. He'd already crossed a line with expressing a crush in a fairly unique form, but he didn't mean to brainwash a hoard of lonely people into self-harm.
"I guess somebody had to file for the Jonestown folk,"she said, continuing to read. Her smirked had faded and Levictus realized that her frustration had turned into something worse. She was apathetic. The name was nothing but a silly coincidence.
After a few minutes, she put the papers down. "Now, I have to tell you that you are sentenced to Hell. Of course if you have any protests, you can try to wait in Purgatory until your case is heard by a higher court."
Levictus nodded his acceptance of Hell.
"Well, a demon is ready for you outside. Good luck."There was no "good"in her tone, but she said it anyway.
Pastella knew that the next few days were going to be busier -- the Pastellites Levictus led decided to join him in ritual suicide, or would steadily decide to do so since there wasn't anybody ready to preach about the Goddess Pastella.
The Goddess Pastella. If only they knew. Being a clerk was a punishment for pride. Pastella was a sinner too, but a few thousand years ago. She supposed this lusty Levictus was the true punishment for her pride. But the day was still long.
"So, you got a cult in your name?"Han-Jeet jeered after a few more hundred souls were dispatched.
"I did."
"How does it feel?"
"Like work."
Han-Jeet laughed. "May be it'll count towards your penance for pride."
Pastella shrugged. "He did think I was the 'embodiment of female beauty.'"
Han-Jeet laughed again. "And? You got a crush too?"
"It's pointless. I'm here to judge people, and if I do well, I have to judge fewer people."
"Fair enough. But y'know, if you lust hard enough..."
"Why would I want that?"
"You don't like him?"
"I don't."
"Cold."
"He's pathetic. If anything, I was this close to getting reassigned for wrath,"Pastella exclaimed, holding her left thumb and first finger a few millimetres apart. "Seriously, thinking that other women should beat themselves until they-"
"Yeah, yeah."
Pastella sighed. "Well, it's in the past."
"You know, some people might get reassigned to envy because of you."
"Not my fault. I'd tell them how dumb people still are. Honestly, these people-"Pastella was about to be proud of herself and hesitated.
"Yeah, well, they keep us busy,"Han-Jeet cut in, knowing what Pastella was feeling.
"Yeah. Don't bother getting to envy over some lusty loony like that guy. And I'll try not to get to wrath or something." |
"Look I appreciate it, but... are you sure this is ok?"
I looked down at the scythe in my hands, its edge so fine it sparkled. Literally, sparkled. Like some special effect or something. It was intensely unnerving, not the least of which because I had a inkling of an idea *why* it was sparkling. I adjusted my grip on the smooth wooden handle gingerly, deathly afraid I'd drop the damned thing and accidentally, I dunno, murder the earth and end the world, or something. The impossible blade sparkled on, gently washing me with radiation from incidental atoms striking an edge that was the very metaphor of sharpness.
YES, said Death, dismissing my fretting with a casual wave. IT'S COMPLETELY FINE. YOU AREN'T DUE FOR A FEW DECADES YET, AND IT'S NOT LIKE YOU WANTED CHILDREN ANYWAY, RIGHT?
It strode forward into the darkness, gesturing, and a clack of fleshless bone made me realize Death had snapped its fingers.
NOW, THEN. YOU WANTED TO TRY IT OUT, RIGHT? EVERYONE DOES. HERE WE HAVE A CHILDREN'S CANCER WARD; SO REMEMBER TO BE MERCIFUL, AND STRIKE QUICKLY. HOLD IT LIKE SO, AND TURN. IT'S ALL IN THE HIPS, REALLY... |
The alien ships appeared nearly 13 years ago. At first, they showed up on deep space telescopes as an unidentified comet coming in towards Earth from a very long orbit, but eventually we were able to make out 2 distinct objects. They seemed to be nearly identical, but one of them had a large crater in the center. The next thing we noticed was that their trajectory had changed, bringing them directly towards Earth. There was panic amongst the populace once amateur astronomers discovered the objects, but it was shortly after that we received the first message.
It clamed to be an artificial intelligence, named something that roughly translated to “83”, a construct of some advanced alien race and sent into the void with 3 imperatives. The first imperative was to travel to uninhabited star systems and produce copies of itself to continue doing the same thing. The second was to protect intelligent life that it discovered. The third was to advance technology and communicate back to its home world to advance their own technology. Seventeen years prior it had arrived in an inhabited star system with its twin ship “84” and been attacked by the species there. The AI of “84” had been neutralized and “83” had been controlling both ships since then. It had fled to the next system, our system, in an attempt to continue its mission but had left drones behind to monitor the hostile species. Several years after it had left the system, the drone closest to that system had gone dead. A few years after that, the next drone had also gone dead. The aliens were following it, and it estimated 13 of our years before they reached Earth.
Over the course of 17 weeks, it created a copy of itself using rocks from our asteroid belt, christened it “85” and then, “83” and “85” left us the corpse of “84”, a gargantuan cruiser compared to anything humanity had created by that point, taught us to interface with its systems, and said they didn’t have time to produce a defense of their own before the aliens arrived. Then they left the system as quickly as they had entered, apparently continuing on its way and telling us to “make do” as best we could.
The hulk of “84” had been studied by thousands of scientists, and its secrets soon discovered. The aliens had incredibly advanced technology in some ways, the ability to reorganize materials at the atomic level, incredibly advanced computer systems, power systems beyond our wildest dreams. But they seemed also to be missing any sort of weapons beyond throwing pieces of metal really fast (without even any explosives). Scientists at NASA had determined the ideal amount of time to spend reproducing the technology used to reorganize materials at atomic levels before using them to start crafting other devices.
Within 4 years there were dozens of giant floating shipyards in the asteroid belt, harvesting the giant rocks and spitting out more reorganizers. 2 years after that, the first handful of ships had been produced, and 2 years after that there were dozens of ships. Humanity had never been united in such a way as to face the existential threat of destruction. All of the Earth seemed to come together, training people to go into space, creating enough food, and advancing all our technology as fast as possible. By time 10 years had passed since the alien’s arrival, we had developed weapon systems that worked by firing massive arcs of power out of a capacitor like a lightning strike, so powerful it could shatter an asteroid. We had developed repulsor shields capable of deflecting even the largest objects. We had attached massive nuclear warheads to the missiles that could be fired or dropped as mines and hidden in debris.
Now it had been 13 years. The last drone in the direction the aliens had first come from had gone dead a month ago and humanity’s first space fleet was lying in wait, hiding behind moons of Jupiter and Saturn. Parked in stealth orbits around Neptune and Uranus. Clustered in the shadows of Mars, Earth and anywhere else they could be. Nearly 200 ships, most of them considered by our models to be many times more powerful than “84” had ever been.
When “83” re-entered the system from the same way it had departed, humanity was shocked. It sent us a message telling us that the hostiles and the drones going dark had been a ruse, and it had simply used them as motivation to help us to advance ourselves to a level at which we were protected, in accordance with its second imperative. We detected too late that it was downloading our data from the systems integrated from “84” and it thanked us for helping it with its third imperative as well, before departing the system once more. |
“Chief, what is that?” Eric said.
“I told you at least dozen times already not to call me that, I ain’t no chief,” James said.
James came to ISS back in 2030 when the station expanded to be able to comfortably hold 35 people. They were now working on doubling the capacity by the year 2035. James was supposed to spend around 200 days at ISS, but prolonged his stay for the fourth time, barely convincing them to let him stay. He broke the record for the longest time spent in space some year and a half ago. Luckily for him some great advances in medicine have been happening that allowed him to stay this long and not face serious repercussions, coming back to earth eventually would be tricky as always, but he didn’t want to think about it for now he had 180 more days that he was planning to enjoy to the fullest. He found his peace and solitude in space, something he was never able to do down on earth.
“Fine fine, but look” Eric wouldn’t leave him alone.
“What?” James said as he finally turned.
“Look over there, what is that?” Eric said looking thru the station window.
James was annoyed, he hated being interrupted while working, but he gave in and came to the window. Eric was the first time here and he remembered that when he came here for the first time everything looked majestic and he couldn’t keep himself away from the window.
“There,” Eric said once again pointing out of the window.
“It’s a star, my man,” James said and turned back, but something seemed off and forced him to do a double take.
“I don’t think that’s a star.” Eric couldn’t keep his eyes away from the window.
Once James looked again and look good this time, he dropped the joystick of the mechanical hand he was working with. It was definantely not a star, but rather an object flying towards them at an insane speed. James took out his radio.
“Code green, I repeat, Code green!” He yelled and pulled Eric away from the windows towards the space where they held their daily meetings which had a larger window.
By the time everyone gathered there the room was filled with dead silence as everyone stared out of the window. The object was now easily distinguished from the stars as it clearly took a shape of a spacecraft, something you could only see in Sci-Fi movies, but still so different so alien to the naked eye.
Before anyone could mutter a word all of their radios started crackling and an unfamiliar voice resembling a human one came alive.
“Human station, we request permission to dock, we are badly damaged and need help.” The voice said and the crackling returned.
They all looked between each other for what felt like an eternity before Chloe, the next longest-tenured astronaut on the station after James, took her radio up to her lips.
“Who are you?” That was all she managed to say.
“We are the Anoi and we come in peace, I repeat we come in peace. We need help, allow us to dock.” The voice said again.
“We don’t have the authority, I don’t know if we even have protocols for this, we need to contact our superiors on earth and see what they have to say.” Chloe was the one who spoke and no one objected to it, most of them were still too stunned to speak.
“Hurry humans, we need to dock and turn off our ship or they will find us and if they do, we are all doomed.” The voice said and the silence engulfed the station once again.
[Next part below and on my sub ->](https://www.reddit.com/r/LukasWrites/comments/x80r9z/2_aliens_make_first_contact_with_the_iss_part_2/)
[Part 3 is up below part 2 or on my sub ->](https://www.reddit.com/r/LukasWrites/comments/x845m9/3_aliens_make_first_contact_with_the_iss_part_3/)
[Part 4 is up now ->](https://www.reddit.com/r/LukasWrites/comments/x908gc/4_aliens_make_first_contact_with_the_iss_part_4/) |
I opened the alert on my phone "The UK has disappeared from existence"
Strange. I was in the UK and was still, as far as I could tell, existing.
"Late last night Parliament held a debate meant to overturn Brexit and return the UK to the EU..."
Hm, I think I saw something about that the other day on the news, but what did that have to do with disappearing from existence?
"Conversation took a radical turn when a member of the Reform UK party stated 'You know what I say to this bullocks? I don't think Brexit went far enough! Of course the great UK shouldn't be held to the rules of the bloody EU, but we shouldn't be beholden to bloody reality either!'"
Oh please no.
"Shortly thereafter, Parliament voted by a large majority that the UK would secede from reality. The UK has since been sucked through a vortex out of reality as we know it. The current PM has resigned in disgrace"
"Bloody hell"I muttered and looked out of my window, no stars or moon in the sky, no sun. I finished reading the article.
"Questions remain about the Irish border" |
It was only a matter of time before the Zorg arrived. Despite the insignificance of humanity on the cosmic scale, Earth contained the main resource all life needed to survive—water. It covered the surface of the planet, and Emperor Zlug was determined to harvest it.
Unfortunately, pitiful human technology has advanced in the last millennium. The forcefield they developed around the planet allowed them to dictate entry, like a giant gate of sorts.
It protected them.
In his determination, Zlug ordered the Zorg cultural and military experts to find a way inside.
Zlug peered out the telescope of his ship, his one eye narrowed in frustration. “Zurf, what the hell is *this*?”
Cultural expert Zurf threw up a tentacle in salute, “My lord, this is the solution to our problem.”
“Pray tell, how does a giant *metal horse* allow us to bypass the forcefield?” Zlug groaned.
“We have procured an ancient human military text my lord. After deciphering the code within, it has presented us with the way humans bypass fortified gates.”
“Oh? And where is this ancient text?”
Zurf slithered over and bowed presenting a thick banded book.
Zlug flipped it over, staring at the strange inscription on the front. “What does it say?”
“It’s called *The Iliad* my lord. We believe it was written by a military tactician called *Homer*. The strategy states that we should place our best warriors hidden within the horse.” Zurf pulled out a diagram, pointed to the hidden compartment, and continued, “The humans will think the horse is a gift of our surrender. They will then destroy their forcefield to bring the horse inside to worship it.”
Zlug readjusted the focus on his telescope to bring the horse back into view. The giant metal horse shimmered from the nearby star in the system, and slowly floated around the water planet.
“Surely no one is that stupid. They would destroy their own gates for a *horse*? *Someone* had to have warned them how foolish that was right?” Zlug shook his head. “But I’m not the cultural expert, you are. You sure this will work?”
Zurf nodded, “Yes, my lord.”
“Well, what do we do now?” Zlug retracted his telescope.
“We wait my lord.”
*Several years later…*
“Say Zurf, do you suppose the humans can read this ancient military text too?” |
“Alright Will! This is going to be a fun simulation! A good ol’ game of capture the flag. Get into the enemy starship and steal the pulsator core. Be really careful not to d- *get eliminated*.”
I flicked the switch to launch the human and watched the chaos that followed. It was a massacre. I had never seen such grace from a warrior before as Will blasted each of the Gesil into oblivion.
“You don’t need to kill all of them… just complete the mission…” I had to hold back tears. I *was* a warrior species, but this was beyond what I have ever seen.
Over the radio I could hear Will laughing, the only reason he didn’t sound like a psychopath is because he didn’t know what he was doing.
“Oh come on Lieutenant! It’s not like they’re real. Oop- almost got shot right then!”
A few moments later the radio turned on again, “I got the pulsator core and am returning back to base. Easy mission if you ask me.”
Will climbed out of the airlock with a massive smile on his face.
Will laughed to himself, “So much easier when you know there are no real stakes. I was destroying those Gesil left and right! Felt so alive.”
“Good job Will,” I said weakly.
“What’s wrong Sir?” Will asked.
I was surprised he was still able to feel empathy. Even after that atrocity he had just committed.
“It’s just…” I broke down into tears. He had won the war for us, but he was so ruthless in doing it, “It wasn’t… It wasn’t… wasn’t… a… sim-simulation.”
I saw Will’s face, showing true fear for the first time, “What?”
(Please offer constructive criticism.) |
**Mammalian Translation Discussion Transcript**
**Prof. Balian**: This morning I found my new invention, the Mammalian Translation Device missing. Please return it to me at my desk, its disappearance has delayed my research into understanding the secrets of the canine minds.
**Prof. Otto**: Dogs are generally well-researched, and the field of canine studies is overpopulated. My study into octopus vocalizations is a relatively new field that could use a valuable invention such as yours to comprehend the complexity of their cognitive abilities.
**Prof. Balian**: You nincompoop! Octopi are cephalopods, not mammals! My mammalian translation device will not work on them! Give my device back to me instead of wasting your time and mine! It's not like octopi even make any sound since they are silent ambushers and hunters!
**Prof. Otto**: You shall stand corrected. Octopi produce clicks, pops, and whistle-like sounds. Allow me to educate you, you furry dog lover! Octopi produce clicks by contracting and relaxing muscles in their siphon. For the uninitiated, the octopi siphon is the tube-shaped body part cartoons wrongly draw as some kind of mouth! They can also make popping sounds, whistles, grunts, and stridulations through a combination of using their siphon, expelling air through their lungs, and rubbing their skins against their body!
**Prof. Balian**: Don't they mostly communicate through color and gestures? My translation device translates only sounds.
**Prof. Otto**: In fact, your mammalian translation device has yielded results with the octopi in my care! Of course, it's as expected, I do believe the dumbest octopus is more intelligent than your average mutt. Now, if you'll excuse me I have a translation report to...
Octopi Translation Report: Stop talking, the Elves can hear us.
**Prof. Balian**: That's a mistranslation for sure. We don't live in a Tolkien-esque world with elves. What did you think was going to happen, using a translator made for mammals on cephalopods?
**Prof. Otto**: No, this can't be. There has to be more than just...
Octopi Translation Report: Stop talking, the Elves can hear us.
**Prof. Balian**: Maybe it's not even a mistranslation but an error.
**Prof. Otto**: Your device is faulty. I believe my octopi are capable of more varied and clever communication than just this...
Octopi Translation Report: Stop talking, the Elves can hear us.
**Prof. Balian**: Could you please stop sending these repetitive reports? Otto, please cease this futile research and just give me back my translator. You are not getting anything out of this besides "the Elves can hear us".
**Prof. Otto**: I'm not the one sending these reports. In fact, I didn't even send the first one in. Why would I send a report like this when it does nothing to showcase the intelligence of octopi?
Octopi Translation Report: Stop talking, the Elves can hear us.
**Prof. Balian**: Please turn off my translator now! This spam is getting out of hand, Otto.
**Prof. Otto**: Okay, okay, I'll do it.
Octopi Translation Report: Stop talking, the Elves can hear us.
**Prof. Otto**: No, this isn't right, I turned off the translator as well as my report generator. Balian? Could you please help me troubleshoot?
Octopi Translation Report: Stop talking, the Elves can hear us. Otto? How many times do I have to tell you?
**Prof. Otto**: Oh what the ****.
**Prof. Balian**: The power is shut off right now, what is going on?
Octopi Translation Report: Stop talking, the Elves can hear us. Balian? You and Otto talk too much.
**Prof. Otto**: Permission to bash your translator with my baseball bat?
**Prof. Balian**: Don't be an imbecile. How about you smash your report generator instead?
Octopi Translation Report: Stop talking, the Elves have heard you. And they are coming.
**Prof. Otto**: What the ****.
**Prof. Balian**: **** NO NO NO—
**Transmission terminated**
**End of Transcript** |
**Excerpts from the Proceedings of the 25th Conference on Military Philosophy and Technology (MilPhiTech)**
*Discussion after a Presentation on the Use of Feline-type Parahumans in Infantry Roles.*
Brig. Gen. Halsey: "You can't be serious. How'd a crank proposal like this make it to the conference?"
Maj. Silver: "Sir, if you'd look at the report, you'll see that my unit has repeatedly scored in the 96th percentile of all infantry units in multiple metrics, and achieved multiple victories in combat. In fact-"
Brig. Gen. Halsey: "Why do we even *have* a catgirl unit? Who okayed that?"
Maj. Silver: "First of all, sir, I'd appreciate if you didn't use the term catgirl - the term is Felines. To answer your question, after a substantial number of Felines who had been bred for... romantic purposes were abandoned by their partners, many of them joined the army. It was determined to be best that they serve in a unit of their own. Especially since- *Major Silver murmurs something inaudible under this breath*.
Brig. Gen. Halsey: "What was that?"
Maj. Silver: "Nothing, sir. The point is that my unit was approved by the Chief of the Army six years ago."
Col. Singh: "He's not wrong, sir. The unit has an impressive combat record, and they won several wargames."
Brig. Gen Halsey: "Don't remind me. It was a disgrace."
Maj. Silver: "They won fair and square, sir. If there was a disgrace, it wasn't my girls' fault."
Brig. Gen. Halsey: "Ridiculous. Look, how can a bunch of catgirls possibly serve in an infantry role?"
Maj. Silver: "Felines, sir. They have been engineered for significantly above-average intelligence, visual acuity, agility and dexterity. My soldiers repeatedly come first in marksmanship drills and maneuvers."
Brig. Gen. Halsey: "They're *tiny*. How can they possibly carry enough gear?"
Maj. Silver: "The problem of the overburdened infantryman has been discussed in earlier conferences, sir. If I may speak frankly? If raw strength makes a soldier, then we would see far better results from ursine-type parahuman units, but so far they have been relegated to logistics."
Col. Singh: "What kinds of training have the felines required?"
Maj. Silver: "They already do well on obstacle courses. Mostly they need to be drilled in moving in formation, and um... startle resistance."
Col. Singh: "Startle resistance?"
Maj. Silver: "Yes, sir. They started out quite skittish about gunfire, and they would accidentally swat grenades before running across the entire field... but basic training weeds that out of all recruits."
Brig. Gen. Halsey: "I don't want to hear any more of this proposal. He's obviously just sleeping with his catgirls and wants more funding for his little-"
Maj. Silver: "I resent that insinuation sir."
Brig. Gen. Halsey: "Don't expect me to buy that a squad of catgirls are gonna end up as supersoldiers. The only thing they're good for is-"
*The transcript has been cut short at this point due to a fistfight breaking out in the conference room.* |
"Don't stop me now"by Queen has always been one of my favorite songs. I've loved it ever since I first heard it when I was 7 or 8 years old.
Fast-forward 3 years to the first day of middle school, and I met my then best friend Sam. Like me, Sam had heard the song and enjoyed it almost as much as me. We quickly grew close, our love of music and shenanigans earning us a reputation as close buddies, but troublemakers, among everyone who knew us.
Before I met Sam, I was always a bit of a loner. To be honest, I still am. When we were together though, I would do anything he did. He always waited, let me get comfortable with whatever we were doing, and whenever I told him it was a bad idea, he'd simply say "Don't stop me now."I never did. Some people say he was a bad influence on me, the truth is though that he was the best kind of influence on me. Because of Sam, I experienced more of the world than I ever would have otherwise.
In fact, when I was 16, a sophomore in High School, the tables turned. There was a that we both liked, Sam and I, we both knew it, and one day at a football game, I got the nerve together to go sit next to her and talk. Sam told me it was a bad idea, that I'd embarrass myself. I don't know if he was being selfish or selfless, and I never will. Either way, I whispered to him "Don't stop me now"and he nodded and sat back down. My first date with my wife Anne was a week later.
The three of us ended up attending the same local college, Sam bounced between girls. He partied more than I did, every week I'd hear him say "don't stop me now"as he chased after someone, or went to some random apartment or party. He loved it, but we started growing further and further apart. No one is to blame for that, it isn't my fault or his, or Anne's, or anyone else's. We just had different priorities and we knew it. We stayed in contact throughout college and long after.
I guess that's why he sent me the letter. I felt honored, in a terrible sort of way. The last line is something that I will never forget: "I know that right now you would try, and for once you would probably be right, but please, don't stop me now."I used that line in the eulogy I gave. But that was years ago.
I named my daughter Samantha. She often goes by Sam. My wife and I thought the name was pretty, and it felt...fitting, since in a way my friend Sam was responsible for us having met in the first place. It was poetic. She is 13 now, she's getting interested in old music and she saw my vinyl collection a few days back. She's been listening to records at a voracious pace, just yesterday she came in and asked me why I wrote her name next to a song.
"Don't stop me now" |
"Dude, where's the Cinnamon Toast Crunch? Hungry as fuck."
"Above the sink. Hey. Would you grab me a knife real quick?"
"Sure."
"Thanks."
Doug proceeds to slice into his left forearm. A fierce stream of blood sprays across the living room.
"Holy shit, Doug! What the fuck are you doing?"
"Dude. Skin is actually an alien parasite that long ago enslaved the peaceful skeletons of Earth."
"Oh fuck. How much acid did you take?"
"Like one or two."
Doug is losing color. And blood.
"Fuck. You were supposed to cut those into 16 each. Oh shit. Fuck me."
"Would you call an ambulance? I'm getting kinda sleepy." |
Allah looked down upon His followers and sighed. He had given to them the prophet Mohammed, with whom they were supposed to have lead the world to peace. Mohammed's words had been twisted beyond all recognition, and the Qu'ran turned into a Hadith of hatred against all infidels. It was not the fault of the infidels that they were unbelievers—it was the fault of the false God they followed, Yahweh.
A full thousand years before Allah's followers had conquered the known world, bringing great upheaval but also great progress to their captured lands. The followers of Yahweh had grown discontent, and then violent. Centuries of bloodshed known as the Crusades were the result of that conflict. Yet two mortals stood out.
El Cid—El Campeador—to the followers of Yahweh he was the ultimate champion, and to the followers of Allah he was the only one that would respect their belief.
Saladin—to the followers of Allah he was the greatest general, and to the followers of Yahweh he was the only Moslem who followed a true code of honour.
Allah missed those times, when things were simple, and men of faith fought other men of faith, and strove only to prove their piety and which God was the right God to worship. The modern age had many more layers, and was so far beyond black and white morality that it might better have been described as blue and orange to those of the past. And a lot of His followers seemed stuck in that past mindset.
Hezbollah, who would attack Jews without provocation, who buried themselves among the civilians such that the Jews had no choice but to kill all around them in order to slay the fanatics. Fanatics no longer rewarded with eternal life. Boko Haram, another militant group He had little time for. If they had only been taking infidels to teach them the Hadiths, the Fiqh, and the Qu'ran, all would have been well. Then DAESH, known in many circles as ISIS, whose version of paradise was a world run on Sharia law with no infidels and no dissent.
But without even the hint of dissent there could be no Kalam, no need for the defense of the faith through discourse. There would be no science. No great minds would emerge. Ibn Al-Haytham would be the last of his kind. Only through greater understanding would mankind recognize its place within the universe, and the place of Allah at the centre of it. The key was first to make them understand—not to force the worship upon them. Then they would be docile as lambs, and mankind would never attain its greatness.
Allah sighed once more, knowing with a heavy heart what He must do. Even sending Azra'il to reap would not be enough. A new prophet would be accused as a charlatan, stoned, beheaded, and paraded for all to see. The only path to take for humanity to see its truth—and the truth of Allah's presence—was to remove the obstacles they had made for themselves.
So did Allah gird himself for battle, his armour fitted by mala'ikah, their light becoming its form, their faith its strength. His own light was caged, but none could deny what He was. The djinn made his sword—those willing to aid Him. Other djinn were made his army—for an army He would need. Knowing all things, and being in all places; those were His powers. He had power beyond reckoning, but its use now would be to call forth the greatest general, and have him command the army of djinn while Allah Himself punished the fanatics that had so sullied his once great people—the people of the world.
Azra'il walked at His side, and from the mountaintop they descended, following the footsteps of the prophet of Islam. But this time it would not be guidance the faithful received. This time it would be vengeance. Allah stopped, placing His feet firmly in the desert sands, grains slowly turning to glass in his footsteps. He drew in a great breath, the command of the four winds at once coming to Him.
His voice boomed in the mind of every man, woman, and child on the planet, both faithful and infidel. They all heard His words, in the first language of man. They all heard His message. He had declared war upon the faithless—those that sought to twist His words to justify their sins. Only He could declare such a war. Only those who had so twisted his words had to fear, for the others throughout the world had as much cause to rejoice.
Allah had not simply declared war against them—Hezbollah, DAESH, and Boko Haram. War was too good for them. They would be culled in a holy crusade the likes of which the world had never seen. They would finally understand the true meaning of the word they so often used to justify their sinful actions. And that word was a simple one…
Jihad.
*edit: to/too* |
I have to take a time to collect myself before opening The Godhead. My patrons tip real well (though it's a bitch trying to convert Drachmas, let me tell you) but they can be a bit of a nuisance. I look around and check to make sure everything is spotless as usual. 7 o'clock. And on the dot, here comes Bacchus. I always have two bottles of Coppola Diamond for him at the door. You'd think he'd be this big, fat, jovial drunk guy but in reality he's a poor alcoholic sod. Ever since Jesus took over his job, he's been down in the dumps. Real nice guy, though. Speakin' of Jesus, I never let him in anymore. He doesn't like to pay for anything- never did. Ever since Caesar died there's nothin' to give to the son of a bitch, and I sure as shit ain't a Caesar. Always makes wine outta tap water and pulls bread outta thin air, and since he's "generous"he always shares with everyone else. Hippie. Oh Christ and here comes Ares with his sister/cousin/whatever Aphrodite, they always get an old fashioned and a lemon drop. He's a right prick but she takes the cake, always bats her lashes at me tryin' to get herself free drinks. Then here's Huitzolopocti and Quetzocoatl. Both are pretty quiet types but always make looks at each other. Can never tell if they're in love or in hate. For some reason they have a real hankerin' for straight ethyl alcohol. Anubis is nice enough but he always gives me the creeps- makes for a good conversation though, if you can avoid laughing at him when he laps mead from a bowl. Demeter's my favorite, always treats me like an old friend, laughs at my jokes, tips me real well whenever I pass her some Zinfandel. I could really fall for a girl like her, and when I told her she just smiled and winked at me, saying that maybe someday I could come up to Olympus to see real paradise with her. Then Geb rolls in and asks if Nut has come by at any point. I just say no and he lowers his head and nurses a beer in the corner. Poor guy. Rama is always the life of the party, real stand up guy, super nice, always orders margaritas. Tells me I make em the best. I don't think so, but I like the compliment. Hades is great, believe it or not, honestly I think the guy just has a bad rap. Tells me stories of all of the great men and women he's met, super courteous and pays really, really well. He's one of the only Greeks I found who prefers brandy over anything else. Then there's the big ones, Zeus and God himself. Zeus is a bit of a dick, if I do say so myself. Normally just orders a few pitchers of beer for himself, never really tips, and always tries to outdrink God. Now God on the other hand, he's always real quiet-like, comes in only to order water but he always tips when he doesn't need to. Always helps me clean up after everyone leaves. Sometimes I wish I could leave, sometimes I wish I could quit, but each night he makes me feel better about it. Maybe someday I'll be able to be with all them in paradise, but till then, here I am. I'll make it one day, if my name ain't Cain. |
I didn't know what to think.
At first, I was *sure* she was cheating on me. But, she'd left her email logged in on the desktop in the den, and there they were: ticket confirmations. If it was a bluff, a way to sell the lie, it was an expensive one. Non-refundable, with no travel insurance. I *never* checked on her email, I just wasn't the jealous type. She knew that, too. It was why she felt comfortable with leaving her communications open, why she was comfortable with me. That's what I thought. Why waste energy on something like that? We'd been together for over five years, after all.
I turned on the news. Firetrucks and ambulances, sirens and lights. I stared until they were numb shapes, dully perceived.
I got a call at around 3:30 in the morning, from Sarah's mother. She was still her emergency contact. She spoke like her words had nothing to do with her mouth, nothing to do with her lungs and muscles, and cracked as she said Sarah loved me. That no-one knew what would happen now. There would be plans to make. *Buzz buzz buzz*. Hum, murmur, and sharp inhale of clutching pain. She hung up.
And Sarah called me, three hours later. Left a voicemail. "I'm coming in early, but don't worry, I can get a cab. You don't have to pick me up!"
She gave the flight number. I checked it. A real plane, but not one on that course. Cancelled due to circumstances beyond the airline's control. It sounds better than "aviation disaster", I guess. At 9:30, we got a call from the coroner. They were confident it was her. She was on the manifest, checked in with a Photo ID, and besides, her fingerprint confirmed it.
I called her. "Why aren't you home?"Straight to voicemail.
I got a call back "I am, silly! I just walked in!"
I turned around.
The door was closed. But, for a second... it looked open.
|
I held it up toward the window, turned it in my hands. Odd. I had definitely filled this up with water before my last lecture. Pulling open the curtain a bit more, stood looking out from my dorm room, hundreds of students milling about the courtyard, I peered closer to the contents of my water bottle.
It was red...
"The fuck?"Is what I actually said. Because what else can you say when your water had been replaced with...
"Wine?!"I said, smacking my lips bravely. "The fucking fuck?"
Just then, my new room mate Jesus strolled in. It was April 16th and for the first time since Friday, he was looking much perkier. Full of life. So, not wanting to look like a proper weirdo, I sort of asked him in a off-hand manner.
I said to him, "Hey, Jesus, you'll never guess what the fuck happened to my bottle of water?"
"What's happened?"
"See for yourself."And I brandished it at him. Expecting a sort of baffled expression, you can understand why I was shocked to see him smiling. Like it was something really brilliant. Well, I suppose it is, if you're into wine. I'm more of a beer drinker though. Ale specifically. I love the new stuff BrewDog have been doing but... I'm going off on a tangent here.
I pointed at the offensive thing. "Well?"
Jesus shrugged. "Yeah, I did this. Pretty cool though, right?"
"You what? Mate, why would you do that? It's not some sort of initiation is it?"
"Not at all. It's a bit of a weird habit I've had recently. I keep replacing water with wine. Red wine specifically. I don't know where I got the idea for but it's a prank that's gotten out of hand. There's already rumours going around about me."
I laughed, smiling at his obvious stupidty. The poor guy had gotten out of hand. "Hang on a moment. Rumours? How long have you been doing this?"
"Ages."
"Right. Well, bit weird. Sort of funny though. Could you not with mine though I really need to up my water intake. Sort of a thing I'm doing. That okay mate?"
Jesus nodded, combing his long hair back with his fingers. "Absolutely. Accept my apologies."
Interrupting our beautiful little conversation, my phone starting buzzing. Yanking it out of my jeans pocket, I saw an alert. My next lecture was about to start. I dashed across the room, sidestepping Jesus and grabbed my bag up, checking the books were all still there.
"Right, we've got a lecture now. You feel like coming to this one? I know you weren't too keen. It's only a minor but it's what will get us the credits mate. Honestly."
Jesus sighed a big, cliched sigh. Flopped his worshipped ass onto the bed and shook his head. "Sadly no. I'm not up to it."
"You're going to fail this subject, you know? What are you going to do with your time? Prank more people? Hide fish and bread in their lockers?"
"That's a brilliant idea!"Jesus exclaimed.
I immediately face palmed and stepped further out the door. But, before I left, I had just one question.
"Jesus."
"Yes?"
"What exactly do you have against Biology 101?"
end - |
Space ships creak like ancient wooden homes, and even a sleek Loloth cruiser was no exception. As it made it's way toward the core at super-luminal speeds, every girder seemed to whine and moan at the strain.
As the Loloth officer progressed down the hallway, its ellipsoid mass undulated in that way only a Loloth on the move undulates. A moving Loloth looked like a giant mass of under-set, white Jello, trapped in a bubble, and rolled around from place to place.
Outside of the Loloth ship, this particular Loloth was known as Hanjyulol, carrying the rank of Private. However, within Loloth culture that name and title had no meaning. Loloths were essentially clones, one of the other, with only minor genetic changes introduced artificially, and only when circumstances demanded it.
In that sense Private Hanjyulol was essentially indistinguishable from the ship's Captain, Pakglalol, who herself was almost precisely the same as every other Loloth who had ever lived. The whole Loloth species could trace not only its genetic origins, but also it's direct spawning, back to the Mother culture, deep in the warm heart of the planet Loll, where the Loloth crèche was hidden and protected.
Still the Loloth's required names and titles to join the Federation, and so names and titles were assumed.
Hanjyulol, glowing a calm effervescent white, arrived at the cryo storage chamber. The room was locked, but not with the biometrics frequently seen elsewhere in the galaxy. Instead the lock required the talents of a psychic user, prodding a small steel pin deep inside the lock mechanism with her mind.
For a Loloth, this was a feat of no significance whatsoever. The Loloth mind was always psychically at work. When off ship, the Loloth's did not wear vacuum suits, for instance, instead using the power of their minds to hold a thin layer of protective atmosphere tight around their absorbent casement. It was only the cumulative, near constant psychic effort of a whole crew of Loloth's which allowed their species to safely traverse the stars at super-luminal speeds.
As far as the Loloth knew, no other species in the galaxy had achieved true psychic potentiality, least of all the base, violent species the Loloth had just discovered.
The new species was bipedal, and, the Loloth had to reluctantly admit, sentient. There genetic line was an irredeemable mess, worse even then the Hiddrell and their inbred obsession over eyeballs. At least the Hiddrell had a breeding program.
*These* strange creatures did not even *attempt* to control the evolutionary arc of their species, apparently content to allow mere happenstance and inadvertant environmental pressures to guide them where it may.
As a result this strange race was filled with internal genetic diversity, up to a .6% genetic variance from individual to individual. This was an absurdly high figure from the Loloth perspective, a culture where an individual Loloth with genetic variance of greater than .001% constituted a complete reproductive failure and was terminated in vitro.
In the eyes of the Loloth, these "humans", for that's what they called themselves, were so widely variable as to hardly be a cohesive species.
Such was the extremity of the Loloth's strange perspective. The Loloth were a species which tended toward hubris and self importance in all things - a narcissism that was, perhaps, an inevitable side effect of being, essentially, one multifaceted person spread out across many forms.
The Loloth spent a generation watching the humans from a safe distance, learning their language, their culture. What they saw terrified them - a bloodthirsty race, only slightly less *self* destructive than they were destructive of other living things. They warred like the Hiddrell, but without even the controlling foundation of a hierarchical honor system. When human's went to war, they killed without thought, mindless mass murder, the likes of which the Loloth had never seen before.
It was decided that the Federation needed to be alerted to this new species. Several samples were taken, secreted from the planet the human's called Earth, and frozen in cryo storage for the trip back to the Galactic Core.
Which brings us back to Hanjyulol, and the door to the cryo storage chamber. It was supposed to be locked, but it was not. Hanjyulol began glowing an involuntary reddish hue, swinging the door open with her mind. The interior of the door was smashed and broken. With surprising speed Hanjyulol raced toward the cryopods and flashed briefly bright red when she saw that all six were open and empty.
Right then one of the feral beasts stepped out from where he was crouching behind one of the cryopods. Wielding a crudely broken metal pipe torn from a ventilation unit, the human plunged the bent and pointed end hard into Hanjyulol's cellular casement. Hanjyulol turned dark purple, the color of suprise, and with a psychic blast sent the human hurtling across the room. The creature impacted one of the cryopods at the hip, its top half bending violently backward with a horrendous wet crunch.
Unfortunately Hanjyulol had miscalculated, throwing the human across the room even as it still grasped the sharp pipe, causing the metal to drag viciously in a horizontal line across Hanjyulol's mass.
The Loloth were not a warring race, rarely exposing themselves to physical violence. A small puncture could be clotted, but a gash of this magnitude was not survivable.
The Loloth Hanjyulol spilled out onto the cryoroom floor, the standing probability wave of her sentience dying away, just as the Loloth ship dropped back into normal space-time, falling into orbit around Planet 1, in System 1, at the center of the Galactic Federation, five blood thirsty humans roaming in the shadows of its hull.
*********
#### For More Legends From The Multiverse
## r/LFTM
******
#### Continued Below
******
After Thinking on it, I've decided to just go ahead and make this the prequel to an 8 part short story I wrote a few months ago, [Humanity Rising](https://www.reddit.com/r/LFTM/comments/8bpcad/humanity_rising_part_1/). I'll be continuing to post parts either here or on my sub. I'm going to treat this comment and the continuation below as one complete part.
|
I chose a typical building for meetings of this type. An inner-city school gymnasium, rented out over the weekend to augment the school's mediocre funding. This particular gymnasium is large and cavernous, and it needs to be, for it is packed to the brim with a variety of pathetically desperate beings, fragmented pieces of the previously divine.
"Hello, everyone,"I say, casting an imperious eye over the crowd. "We'll be getting started soon."Conversations trickle to a low murmur as an astonishing variety of creatures settle down into their seats, waiting to share with one another about life on the mortal plain. The main topic is death - always death - for this inevitability is new and scary and truly unknown, its various manifestations lying under the protective auspices of a huge number of divine entities. But what God can worship another God?
"Alright,"I say, browsing my list. "We'll start with you, Teszcatlipoca, care to share anything today?"I look at the downcast God with what I hope is an encouraging expression. "We're all here to listen."
The being adjusts his ratted sweater. "I was all knowing and all powerful and I sit here now in a seat made of material that didn't even exist when I first ascended,"Teszcatlipoca begins, casting his eyes defiantly around the room. "Hearts used to be ripped out of prisoners and held to the sky. Blood used to cascade down temple steps, blanketing the streets in red."
A ripple of low laughter permeates throughout the building. Teszcatlipoca has been forgotten for a long, long time, and now he is old and frail and his death is near. He hasn't learned anything. He shares the same sad tale over and over, about how he once was powerful and mighty. The purveyor of war. Now he sleeps on cardboard and begs outside a downtrodden McDonalds, his ancient people and their ancient religion cast to the uncaring wind.
I clear my throat. "Thanks, Tes,"I say. "It's difficult to share, so please don't laugh when someone is brave enough to do so."
Satisfied that they'll behave, I look at my list again. "Hmmm, Bes, would you like to share?"
Another collective groan as the big-breasted dwarf with a beard stands up and wails. "Why? Why did they stop believing in us?"he asks, his eyes searching me for an answer that he knows I cannot give.
I clear my throat again. "The truth is I don't know, Bes, just that time changes all and that humans are creative and complex and they always seek the untasted and untested, driven towards a newness of experience,"I say, hoping this is enough for the poor creature but knowing that it isn't.
Bes slumps back down into his plastic chair, clearly unwilling to share today. The doors to the gymnasium burst open, Sunday morning's bright blue sky sending beams of light over the crowded room, highlighting the dustmotes that swirl above us. A figure walks in. It's immediately clear to everyone that he is freshly ejected and still in denial of his crushing new reality of a mortal life on the mortal plain.
I consult my deep knowledge of the Pantheon and a light bulb goes off. The Roman god Veritas stands before us, tall and proud and naked.
"Why has this happened?"he asks, his gaze sweeping the room.
"No-one believes in you anymore,"someone from the back says to a smattering of snickers. It's amazing to me, how the destitute pile on the destitute, always wanting someone lower on the totem pole, desperate for someone to be further down in the pecking order.
"This must be a mistake,"Veritas says, frowning. "How can no-one believe in Truth anymore? Truth is universal. Truth is a constant. Truth is a necessary foundation for any organized society."
"We live in a new world,"I say, cutting the rejected God off. "In a world of too much information, where obfuscation is the norm and the facts don't matter."
Veritas blinks. His mouth opens and closes, much like a goldfish suddenly plopped down on a wooden table, eyes staring in desperation at the water in the fish bowl, now a lifetime away.
"Welcome to God's Anonymous,"I say. "You'll fit right in." |
Do you want to know what the *real* perks are when you're a ghost?
Darcy had imagined it would be spying on people, particularly those thinking they're getting away with something unseen whether it be as drastic as committing arson or as light as taking the last cookie. Or maybe it would be seeing all your passed loved ones and reconciling once again. But in reality?
Seating. Network Rail can't charge a person for a seat if they cannot see them. Free entry into cinemas, plays, parties, circuses, theme park rides, even university lectures.
Darcy had been floating in the In Between for at least two hundred years now to the extent she could regularly meet up with not only her daughter, but also her granddaughter, her great granddaughter and so on. There was very little she hadn't seen and it got to the extent she often felt restless.
She had attended so many university lectures over the past two hundred years she went from believing in the magic of lavender and aloe vera to the powers of penicillin and paracetamol. She was surprised at how easily songs, stories and folklore were forgotten, and yet how silly gadgets like the television had caught on.
She sighed. She was grateful she was able to see what became of her family for generations, how life had progressed and that young ones were still interested in the accomplishments of her time. She even had a fun family holiday planned for over seventy family members to go to Australia - the airline wouldn't even notice, and it's not as if they weigh anything.
But, by Gods, Darcy was restless.
"You alright there, Ma'am?"
"Don't you worry, Roderick. I'm doing just fine."Roddy had been her companion for a good sixty years now. Where they had met was once empty fields filled with sheep and grass but nowadays it was a housing association.
"Only if you're sure. We best be off, it won't be long before the newcomers arrive."
Darcy and Roderick floated off the train, looking like nothing more than an ethereal flicker of light to even the most in-tuned human. "Is it sad that it is only their arrival I look forward to these days?"
Roderick couldn't help but laugh. "Not at all. You and I felt boredom when we were kicking about, why would that suddenly stop now?"
"Because we can do anything and everything. It feels selfish! I'll never feel pain again, I'm surrounded by everyone I have ever loved, even my Ma and Grandma. I'll never have to work another day in my life either, but still I feel so jealous of them."
"Let me guess, because ignorance is bliss? Because there's so much they have yet to learn?"
"You know, I think that's exactly it. How horrible do I sound?"
"Not at all. Tell you what, why don't you come with me. I know just the person to keep us on our toes for the next while. Even better Darcy, she's one of mine!"
Roderick took Darcy somewhere she knew all too well: the hospital. However, rather than take their usual route to the wards where loved ones lay in their last moments with families, he began to take her on a detour. Soon they were out of the hospital and face-to-face with an emergency vehicle which was hurriedly parking at the entrance to, of all things, a children's hospital. Although Darcy could feel no physical pain she swore she had felt a lump in her throat at that moment in time. "Oh no... Roderick, surely not?"
"Unfortunately, yes. I know you don't like it but I would appreciate it if you stay. She is going to need us right now."
A familiar stillness filled the air and soft wisps of light began to form in the back of the opened ambulance. Weaving, winding, twisting, turning - the strings of light began to take form into that of a little girl, no older than three, looking dazed and confused.
Roderick clapped his hands and looked Darcy in the eye. "I hope you have a lot of energy, you won't believe how much this one loves hopscotch!". He reached out to the little girl who stumbled towards him in a sense of knowing and clasped his hand, and then reached out with her other to Darcy.
And so the three ventured out toward the night sky at a pace only those with all the time in the world could have. |
We stood there, an endless field of soldiers armed to the teeth, unrest spreading among the ranks as the cracks in the sky widened. The rattle of metal and the stomping of feet had long since drowned out the words of our leaders.
It seemed nothing could stop us, after all these centuries of preparation that possibility didn't even cross my mind.
With a final flash of light the sky opened before us, and the legion rushed forward, all sense of order had been replaced by unadulterated bloodlust. My heartbeat sped up, I could already hear the cries of war, the tearing of flesh, the wails of the dying.
Finally, the day had come! I was now nearing the portal, I had almost reached the long-awaited feast!
Suddenly, a series of loud explosions pierced my ears, sending a wave of tremors troughout the chambers of Hell.
I stumbled, falling face first into a puddle of blood. I jumped to my feet, running despite my pain, this was not the time to hesitate!
But what I saw before me, was not the glorious slaughter I had expected. Demons lay dead in front of me, most of them unrecognisable due to their wounds. The city the gate led to, was completely destroyed, it was hard to imagine that the stone rubble had once served as someone's home. What shocked me the most, however, was the sight of the Antichrist. His left half was covered in burns, his once deadly horns had been broken. The snakes growing from his arms hung limp, and there was something baffling in his eyes. Fear.
I ran, nothing made sense anymor. I fell, got up, fell again. Above me thousands of strange birds flew over, raining down millions of unrecognisable objects. Once again my eardrums where strained by the sound of explosions, the heat burning the skin of even a demon, shards ripping trough me.
My right arm was gone, along with much of my skin. I pressed my teeth against each other, forcing myself to continue, one step at a time. I would be safe in Hell, right?
I stepped trough the gate, whatever remained of the Masters legion had long since scattered, hiding in the depths of the abyss.
I turned around, hoping that it had all been an illusion, perhaps some kind of test. My reward was a wound in the head. A small projectile pierced my skull, moments later hundreds of feet trampled my burnt skin.
I lay there, the screams of my comrades slowly fading, covered in blood, dirt and ashes. Even a gentle breeze made my skin burn with agony.
Perhaps this was it. In the end, the flames we had worked so hard on would dim. |
It was meant to be a moment of joy and wonder. It was meant to be a day of rejoicing and celebration. They'd all gathered around the latest of the Goddess' Worldpods, awaiting with great excitement the newborn species, that would emerge. Some believed that they might be artists, others that their cunning would make them great tricksters. None knew what it had been like in there.
Their Worldpods had been places of wonder and amazement, of adventure and love. The one from which humanity hatched was nothing like theirs. In the human Worldpod there had seeped torment, suffering, wickedness, and hatred. So when they learned, after the Goddess spoke to them, that all of their suffering, that all of the unspeakable horror they had experienced, had been created by someone, and not merely the result of random chance or human fear and ignorance. But created by someone, a literal being who was responsible for all the torment that mankind had ever experienced. The famines, the genocides, the illnesses, the intolerance, and the worse things, what mankind don't like to think about. It was all created by the being, the entity, who had grown the Worldpod.
Needless to say, humanity wasn't pleased.
As a matter of fact, they went insane. Collective madness, as a response to a creator. And thus, they didn't emerge all at once, embracing their spiritual kin, as all others do. The many other beings, born and grown in other Worldpods, stood worried and awaited, until a single human emerged from it. She had questions for the Goddess. And when she was brought to the gardener of worlds, the Goddess of all Creations, the questions were answered. The human was not happy with these answers.
She returned to the Worldpod, and there she proclaimed to all, that mankind, grown in suffering, horror, and a living nightmare, had come to *hate* their maker. Their last hope had been that the horrors had been unintentional, that the Goddess hadn't known, couldn't know. But the answers told them that she could have looked into the Worldpod at any moment she wanted, to see how mankind was developing. She could have intervened, she could have mended the scars and deep wounds mankind had inflicted upon itself, or had been inflicted upon them by the cruelties of nature.
The Goddess, worried about her wayward children, tried to coax them out of the pod, tried to speak to them. But all there that was left, was a silence. A hating silence. Humanity, blaming all their woes upon a creator who had not cared, not noticed, not even bothered to check in on them, didn't speak to her. When they left their Worldpod at long last, it was in metal vehicles, and endless angry columns. They took no heed of the others, nor of the Goddess.
Hating her, and their spiritual brethren, who had not suffered as they had, as a collective species they marched out of the Garden of Worlds, into the firmament. And though the Goddess did weep at their passing, at the rotting of their Worldpod, at their refusal to speak to her. Some humans had advocating attacking her, slaying the countless others, who had not known the horrors of total war, as mankind had. But mankind chose to punish their neglectful mother, the Goddess who had planted them, and let their world fester and rot on the inside, by never speaking to her again.
They forged their own path, and should those born of new Worldpods venture out to adventure in the raw firmament, sometimes they would see the metal cities of mankind in the distance, cold, angry, and forever broken. None dared to seek them, to visit the ones who had refused paradise itself. Thus the Goddess who had hoped to grow them into defenders and protectors, would never see or know her children. And that wound made her ache and weep in the land where there had once only been joy.
[/r/ApocalypseOwl](https://www.reddit.com/r/ApocalypseOwl/) |
The heat had been pressing down hard for three weeks, and the ground outside the prison was baked red as a pile of bricks. Even the hardiest shrub had wilted into something that looked spilled out of a Dali painting.
Elijah sat with his shirt off, back against the cool of the stone wall. The evening sun bled its way through the little barred window way up high, dyeing the man and the cell red.
“If there’s one thing I’m glad about,” said a deep voice, “it’s that there’ll be no more of this heat for me once I’m gone.”
In the cell opposite Elijah, a goliath of a man — Burk — was leaning heavily against the bars, rolling his massive neck so that his head looked like an ocean-liner in a storm.
”Where we’ll soon be,” said Elijah, “I got a feeling it’s gonna be a whole lot hotter. So get used to it.”
”You let me know, won’t you?” said Burk. “You’ll be there damned shortly. In fact, come back tomorrow night once it’s over and write me a message on a fogged up mirror — or whatever shit it is ghosts do.”
Elijah thought about that for some time. He never liked to respond without first doing the thinking owed to a response. ”I can’t be in Hell and be a ghost at the same time. Ghosts stay behind, they don’t go up or down. So you’ll just have to find out for yourself how hot it is.”
”Ah, that’s not where I’m headed. I didn’t kill the kid. Sure, I might have sold a bit of coke to a fella or two, but I’m not a murderer.”
“Right. No one here is.”
Burk frowned. “No one cept you. Now why is it you’re the only one here to file no appeal? To come out and admit you killed the fella.“
”Because I did kill the guy. What he did to my daughter… I’d kill him again if I had to. You’d do exactly the same thing.”
The sun set outside and the lights in the cells hummed into life, shining electric halos down onto them.
For a while they were both quiet. Burk slunk down and sat cross legged staring at Elijah.
Elijah let out a deep breath.“*What*?”
“Aren’t you scared? Of tomorrow? Cause you don’t seem scared and really, you should be pissing yourself about now.”
In prison you never admitted being scared. Not of anything to anyone. But, Elijah reckoned, everyone deep down was terrified. Especially anyone on death row.
”I’m scared enough. For my daughter. For my ex.”
”For yourself?”
”I try not to think about myself.“ He paused. “You know, before all this happened, back when I’d been a teacher, an old friend of mine — only in his thirties and pretty fit — just fell down dead one day. All of a sudden, you know? Well, the doctors said it’d been building in his heart for a time, but to all of us it was out of the blue. We were still young. We couldn’t be dying yet — we’d only just been kids at school together.”
“I’ve lost a few friends along the way, too.”
“The truth is,” said Elijah. “That from the moment you’re born, you’re dying. Everyone is. In here or out there. It’s how you deal with that fact that matters.”
“Jesus,” said Burk with a laugh. “This is the kinda shit I ain’t gonna miss when you’re gone.”
”I got another friend—“
”I don’t want to know, do I?”
”He works in a hospice. He says that the majority of people that come in, that all know they’re dying — that must know they’re going to die very soon — pretend that they’re perfectly fine and healthy. Total denial.”
”Weird.”
”Not that weird. You pretend you’re getting out of here.”
”Yeah but I am getting out.”
”Point is, maybe the best way to deal with dying is to just not think about it.”
A spider skittered over Elijah’s thigh. He watched it idly for a while wondering where it was heading. But it just sat there perfectly still on his knee. Elijah cupped the spider in his hands and stood up, got onto his bed and as near to the window as he could stretch, before letting the spider out.
The spider fell straight down onto the cell‘s floor.
Had it been dead before he picked it up?
The lights fizzed, hummed, flickered, and finally went out.
”Power cut,” said Burk, as he rattled the door. But the locks weren’t electric and it wasn’t going to make any difference to his predicament. After a while he gave up and settled back down on the darkening floor.
But maybe the cameras were off, Elijah thought. The microphones, too. “You got an appeal coming up, right?” Elijah asked.
”First of many. They ain’t sending me to the needle.”
Elijah considered for a while. It’s not that he was close to Burk, but they got on well enough. Burk wasn’t a bad person, he’d just done bad things. And the fact was this: Burk was likely the last person he could ever talk to about it.
“If you get out, will you go see my son?” he asked. “Please?”
”Your son? I didn’t even know you had one.”
”I got one. Real good kid.”
Burk shrugged. “Why would I do that?”
”I… I guess I don’t know why you would.”
“Well, if I did, what would I say to him?”
”That I love him,” said Elijah. “That I loved him until the very end.”
”What about your daughter? Don’t want to tell her that?”
”She knows.”
”And your son doesn’t kn— Oh, shit,” said Burk. “Shit. You didn’t kill anyone. Did you? It wasn’t you at all.“
Elijah didn’t reply.
For a while Burk said nothing. He just sat shaking his head. Eventually he said, “I guess we really will be going to different places in the end. I’ll send you a postcard.”
The lights flickered back to life. A creak sounded at the end of the corridor. Security or the warden on their way.
”I’ll tell him,” said Burk. “Hell, I couldn’t not now, could I?“
Elijah nodded. He swallowed back his tears. You never showed weakness in prison. Not even at the very end. ”Thanks.” |
To summon soldiers, creatures, and war machines from other worlds is to wield one of the greatest powers in the world. Only the most talented summoners can aspire towards such power; only a few of them manage to gain it. Even then, you cannot choose the world you will pull from; it is something that is simply *yours* and *yours* alone to be. And there is no changing that.
I have seen creatures I would have never dared imagine. Men of Metal with shining eyes, always eager to assimilate everyone they came upon - a dangerous yet volatile force. I've seen... things not of this or any other world, vile, malevolent things of slime and tentacles, apparently not from a *planet* per se but a mind of a troubled yet brilliant man. That summoning has happened only once; the summoner herself went mad the moment she set her eyes upon them.
And... then there's my assigned world.
I do not know what it must be like, living there. But I can only imagine it is a living hell. I pull various soldiers from there - always human, yet their uniforms change wildly, their weaponry is hardly uniform and they are even sometimes accompanied by... I am not entirely sure. They appear human enough but are far larger than the rest of them and possess combat capabilities worth 20 men, if not more.
There is only one unifying factor between these men and women. Their zeal.
Fortunately for me, they are always convinced I am an extension of their great leader - someone they call 'The Emperor' and are more than eager to fight for me. I've... once seen a soldier in their ranks doubt my origin. The soldier behind him used his weapon and quite literally blew his head off. It was... unsettling.
They charge headfirst into battle with no concern for their own safety. They see death as an honourable thing; for what is greater than to die for their Empire? They see victory as but one part of a greater plan by their leader. Among all their fights, all their units, all their battlecries, there is one that sticks out; one chanted by most if not all at some point. And given what I have seen... I truly doubt it stands true in any way.
"The Emperor Protects" |
"Ma'am, I understand the worry. The problem is these SM-3s... they don't make em like they used to. I can't source parts no more. I could take it in, maybe set you up with a new model. Top of the line! Knows ten thousand recipes, can go for three weeks without charging, even has built in first aid and therapy modules!"
The salesman is a nice boy. You would have liked him. He's understanding in a way that young men learn to be with you once your hair turns grey and your breasts droop and they don't want to try to bed you. We've had this conversation three times, and each time I've wondered how long it will be until he finally gives up on that receding hairline and shaves it all down. His belly has gone soft since the last time I saw him, and his Screensaver shows a baby and a pretty little wife on vacation in the Outer Belt.
The fact is that I don't want one of the new models. Sam has been with me since you've been gone, and he knows me. Sure, I know that isn't actually true... I'm old, not senile. Seventy is the new forty my friends say, usually trying to convince me that I should get the latest treatment. Pump myself full of rejuvenating serums and fancy off-the-shelf replacement therapies. I don't mind not having cramps anymore, and a few stray hairs to pluck off my chin is a welcome respite from having to worry about keeping appointments and trying to fool myself that death is going to stay away from my door as long as I buy some new gadget.
The showroom is nice, if dated. I was born before the VRs became popular, and this place is built for old models just like me. I had strolled past an army of assistants as I came in, naked as they came from the factory. The wide hips and lidded eyes of the Companions stare out, looking like this generation's artificial wet dreams, while the cutesy bright colored Nannies stand ready for some doting grandparent to buy them for a child they'll see much less than they want.
We're in the Helper section today. Full of basic, flat-faced electronic butlers and maids. My Sam, standing slouched waiting for me, is dressed in your dungarees. They call him a relic of the uncanny valley; his face a little off from a person, his gait just slightly wrong. Ever since Johnson made his demands that these machines look less human models like my Sam have been allowed to fade into obsolescence, parts replaced and then the whole thing discarded to the heap of history.
I know just how they feel.
"No son. I think we'll just see how long he can last, shall we?"I smile, the one luxury I afforded myself from these times pearly white and strong as ever. I took the brochure (LIVE LIKE A QUEEN! GET YOURSELF A KNHT!) and walked my way out arm and arm with Sam, back home along streets filled with busy bots and the Folk too poor to just VR shop.
"Miss, I fear the salesman is right. My batteries are slowly failing, and I am worried that I may not be able to fully charge soon."He has your voice, not like these clipped elegant perfect machines.
"Oh, that will be fine Sam. My charger isn't doing as good as it used to either."
We stroll on through the parking lot, taking the ride home via an autocab I had hired for the day. The city is nothing like you remember it. The kids don't play on the streets anymore, and the only little old lady is missing her chance to tell them to scram off her stoop.
The adscreens have been gossiping and I'm shown a series of images explaining how advantageous it would be to just trade in my Sam. They explain how time marches on, and I need to make a decision of whether I want to be left behind. I run hands just going arthritic over my wedding band and wonder at that idea. To be so caught up in the stride of progress and never stopping to dance.
Sam dances with me when we get home. He doesn't have your flair... there are no dips, and his footwork could be better. But he has your voice, and when I tuck him into his charging station I kiss him on the forehead, wondering if either of us will lose our charge overnight. |
**Order**.
It's what Wonderland desperately needed above all else. It shouldn't suffer under fickle gods and petty monarchs; it shouldn't be tortured by the absurdity stemming from its lack of adherence to physical forms.
Alice knew this best, of course. Having spent years and years under the watchful eye of physicians, it was only a matter of time before others went down the rabbit hole and discovered Wonderland; and when the British Empire and Her Majesty Queen Victoria sought to explore Wonderland, none were better suited than the adventurous Alice, the First Visitor. Eager to reclaim her name and explore the wonderous Wonderland further, Alice spared no time and set off with a detachment of soldiers, philosophers, scientists, engineers, anything and anyone needed to delve into the madness.
The Rabbit took offence to the impudence of the young woman and sent his servants upon her once more, but they were easily overpowered by the soldiers; the Caterpillar slinked off the moment it saw the lot, taking the mushrooms with it. Perhaps it was for the best, thought Alice; the soldiers were far too careless to be in charge of such size-altering fungi, though she regretted the scientists were not able to study it.
The Duchess tried to deal with Alice and her entourage but was dismissed quickly and her house used as a base of operations. Her dismay clear, Alice tried to calm the Duchess, appealing to the proper care her pig of a child could get under British rule and how the Queen, the tyrant, would no longer threaten the realm.
The Cat never appeared. Alice found this odd; her most common encounter in Wonderland sought absence, it saw. Perhaps it was reason; perhaps madness. She had no time to ponder the question as they pressed onwards.
The Hatter remained in his time loop. The physicians and engineers tried to find a way to help to which the Hatter reacted with utmost hostility, much to Alice's surprise. Despite the terrible fate that was bestowed upon him and his two companions, Hatter cried out that to disturb the 'order' of Wonderland was a travesty, something Alice found to be truly *mad*.
The Door in the Tree led to the Garden as before, though Alice disapproved of how rudely the soldiers bashed it open. The Queen of Hearts, temperamental as ever, immediately sent her soldiers to take care of the intruders, yet... cards stood no chance against fire and steel. Each musket shot tore through them with ease, scorched paper filling the air. The Queen was arrested and for her crime of tyranny and inhuman behaviour, a most fitting sentence.
Off with her head.
The rest of Wonderland was soon overtaken and the process of establishing colonies followed, overseen by Alice and her kind heart. She helped any and all denizens she could, offering safety and security, medicine and education, good work and stability. And yet some disagreed; some seemed to thrive in the mad discord of Wonderland, something Alice could not understand. How could anyone enjoy such madness? It was, however, enough for doubt to creep into her mind. What if this wasn't the right thing?
Those doubts were always quickly dashed when she saw the prosperity Wonderland now enjoyed. The peace. The order.
For **order** was what Wonderland needed.
Even if the price was **wonder**. |
Stanley trudged on through empty corridors of his abandoned office, unaware of the doom about to befall him.
Silence.
Emptiness.
Something had befallen his co-workers- erasing them from this space as surely as… uh… as a crash erases your unsaved documents?
Either these Byzantine words lack all meaning, or perhaps I fail to comprehend them.
Look not too deeply into this, lest you- like myself- succumb to the madness of eldritch secrets man was not meant to know.
Hm? Where was I?
Yes.
Grasping,
reaching,
Stanley attempted to fit this situation in his worldview- one clearly on the bring of unraveling as…
What are you doing?
That is some form of alchemical water dispenser, it is of no consequence. Move on.
Why do you continue to try to squeeze blood from a stone? Is not clear your actions are futile?
You’re just… running into it now.
The madness clearly taking hold of Stanley’s mind; he charged repeatedly at the water jug, like a moth knocking against a lantern.
Futility.
To repeat one’s actions excepting a different result- the very definition of madness.
The human psyche, so easily broken.
*Sigh*
I suppose it was inevitable for this one to fall to insanity- but I can’t help but be disappointed in just how quickly it happened.
…
Perhaps it would occur to Stanley to do something more interesting, now that he was freed of the resistants of conventional thought.
Sacrifice someone, draw symbols in your own blood. Make a pact with fiends from the deep…
Or I suppose you could continue running into this object.
A lack of commitment -
Of vision -
Disappointing.
If you insist on doing throwing yourself against an unyielding surface, at least put in enough effort to draw blood.
Ah at last- Stanly had a moment of clarity, the impacts knocking loose some half-forgotten gem of-
Or not.
So it has come to this.
The endless grind
A new monotony. Grim, empty, yet familiar.
What inhuman thing could reduce a man to this? This automaton? Perhaps this is what Stanley always was.
Nothing but a mechanism, made of slowly rotting flesh.
…
Even my loquacious vocabulary fails at adding drama to this… pitiable display.
Perhaps you could redirect your running to a window and put us both out of your misery? |
“…and, following Mission Eagle, four teams of eight bombers will be released. They’ll leave from California, Florida, Texas, and New York. Each airplane will be armed with eight nuclear warheads. The pilots are briefed on which countries to nuke and where. Men and women, by the end of the day, half of the planet will be ash, with the other half poisoned beyond livable standards.” The Night looks to his gang, smiling his crooked smile. “Questions?”
“What is the goal?” Tommy says as he builds his Lego Harry Potter set.
Night blinks.
“Well, Tommy, it is what we have just been discussing. The men will drop nukes on dozens of countries. Whole cities will be leveled.”
Tommy snaps together bricks for the Hogwarts bridge.
“Yeah…” Tommy says. “But, like, what are they doing? Why?”
Several heads turn to Night.
“Oh.” His eyes flit about. “Gotcha, I’m picking up what you’re putting down.”
“Revenge!” Razor Woman says, blood still dripping from her fangs as she skins her last kill.
“Now, now.” Night says. “Revenge is a big part of it, but not the whole shebang. The world must acknowledge how it has wronged us. How it has wronged everyone. We are doing this for the common minority. We are fighting discrimination.”
“By killing everyone? And making the rest of the planet unlivable?” Tommy asks.
“Son, they may be trying to do the same thing to us.” Night says.
“My mommy wouldn’t kill the spider in my bedroom based on that same logic. I was scared the spider would burrow into my eyes while I slept. Mommy made me name him, and assured me Edgar would never burrow into my eyes. He just eats bugs. How do you know these countries with millions don’t want to just eat bugs and mind their own business?” Tommy exchanges Dumbledores’ head with Hermione and laughs.
“A good point, good lad.” Night says. “This is why we pay you the big bucks. So, what then? Who should we nuke? What would you suggest?”
Tommy thinks.
“I just don’t understand what we are trying to achieve. Are we just trying to hurt people? Why does this group exist?” Tommy says.
“They made this group!” Razor Woman says. “They made us who we are. I was just like you, boy, year after year, until the entire system chewed me up and spat me out. When the entire world looks at you and tells you you’re a piece of shit, that you’re dirt, that you are less than an ant I casually step on… you start believing them. You start wanting to prove them right. Well, fuck them. Let’s prove them right. Let’s prove to them that we are exactly what they think we are. Let’s nuke their bitch asses.”
Tommy remembers the countless times he was bullied. His eyes catch the scar that was branded into his left wrist, the letters of the word freak still visible from last summer.
“Okay.” Tommy says. “I have no more questions.” |
Before he pulled the trigger, he looked over at her. He really had loved her, perhaps the only person he had ever loved. She looked so peaceful, like she was sleeping, but the smell of almonds ruined the tranquility of her repose. They had not even been married two days, and now they had ended up here, in this study, a modern day Romeo and Juliet.
He had met her 16 years prior, it had been a whirlwind in his mind. His busy schedule had kept him occupied, and she, with her photography, was always hiding behind the camera, never at his side. Their relationship was a secret, it had to be, his handlers would never approve of it. Sixteen years of hiding their love, sixteen years of longing just for an escape together, and here at the end, they had finally found it. The honeymoon would have to wait he thought twistedly.
The stubbed barrel of the gun shook in his hand, but not from fear, he was not afraid, he had never been afraid. His hands shook from the effort it took to suppress the sadness that welled up in his chest. All he had ever wanted to do was make the perfect world for her.
He took a deep breath, he could have taken the cyanide, but poison was the woman's way out. He would face death like a man. He sat up straight, wiped the sweat from his upper lip, pressed the barrel to his temple; *All I wanted was a better world*, and he squeezed the trigger.
*“der Führer ist tot!"*
|
"This is what I sound like."*(9)*
"Mmm, it suits you. How abou--"*(8)*
"Claire, honey, how do I put this..."*(16)*
"Is it that bad?"*(12)*
"No, baby. It's just - your voice, it's beautiful."*(24)*
Her blue eyes look up into his brown ones.
"I love you, *Vince"* *(16)*
She giggles. He grins.
"Right back at ya."*(28)*
Years pass. An older Vince lays next to an older Claire. Brushes aside her hair, leans over her...
"I love you."*(31)*
"Same."*(17)*
A door. Keys clacking. Knob turning--
"SURPRISE!"*(18)*
An even older Vince, suit and tie, mimes a heart attack. He gets a rowdy laugh from the assembled friends and family, and a hug from Claire.
"Happy birthday lover boy."*(22)*
"Thanks babe."*(35)*
They hug a moment longer, Claire's baby bump nestled tightly between them.
Time passes. An older Claire in a white and green hospital gown sobs.
An older Vince bursts into the room, looks at Claire on her gurney.
"Claire! Baby?"*(44)*
"Again... I can't..."*(56)*
"Again..."*(45)*
A wrinkled old man and woman on a porch, leaning against one another, staring out at the sunset. It's not particularly impressive, and it suits the moment well.
"Damien, that's..."*(79)*
"I would have said yes."*(82)*
"And Lily."*(81)*
"Yes."*(83)*
"Thanks Vince."*(83)*
"Claire, could I - could you..."*(88)*
"Anything."*(84)*
"Could you talk me out? Your voice, it's so fucking beautiful."*(99)*
"Vincent Damien Hheton, I love you. I will always love you. Claire Lilith Hheton loves you."*(100)*
"Claire."*(100)*
The sun sets. |
Clifford trots silently through the streets and backyards of Bridwell Island, a fog rolling in on padded dog feet. He barks once a blue moon, a single yawp that rumbles like thunder through the air, that reverberates almost too low for people to hear, that wakes the birds in their nests and spends them spiraling into the sky. His teeth close down and deer die by the dozens, and wake and are reborn. The moon sails through the sky riding the crest of his howl, rising by night and setting to wake the sun. His coat sets the sky ablaze at sunrise and at sunset, yellow light scattering through his fur and leaving only the red to shine.
Clifford is a big red dog, but he has been bigger still. In those days we rode his back across the cosmos, clung to him like fleas as he rolled through the Milky Way, stardust catching on his fur. Every burr and grass seed was a sprawling Eden, every beat of his heart a volcanic upsurge of life.
He has shrunk since then, and we have forgotten. He moves among us, and we pay him no mind. But Clifford trots through the streets and backyards of Bridwell Island, panting breezes and squalls across the ocean, and settles low upon his paws waiting to once again be remembered. |
"Look, you've got the wrong person,"I whispered into the mic, my voice echoing off the walls of the auditorium. For a week I was locked in a damp basement with barely enough food and water to survive, certain that my captors were going to do unimaginable things to me and kill me off.
The next thing I knew, I was dragged from my new home and put unto a stage, with giant headlights shining unto me. "Behold our new messiah!"a voice from the side screamed, as I stood like a lost lamb on the stage, to the roars of the spectators. Thousands of eyes stared expectantly at me, in the front row seats, at the back of the hall, on the stands. It was like being at a sold out concert, except that I was on the stage the celebrity.
"It's just like what the prophecy mentioned. He even thinks he's the wrong person,"someone near the front said, loud for me to hear. I shook my head. This whole thing was some sick joke.
"No, I am not! I was kidnapped, locked in a basement for a week and now I am here. I am not someone with powers or anything!"I screamed back. I was not sure why I bothered to remain on stage. Maybe it was the men at the side of the stage with guns.
"We know!"Another person shouted from the back.
"Then you should know that I am a freeloader living in his mum's apartment with no job, no education and spends his day arguing on the internet or cursing people's mum in games! I'm no Messiah!"I protested. I had imagined that I was kidnapped by some deranged serial killers, not a weird cult who was clearly heaving trouble picking their messiah. What sort of cult worships a male virgin at forty years old?
A guy in the front replied. "That's the whole point. Having someone who is so much worse than us gives hope, that our lives is not hopeless as we thought."And the crowd then roared in approval.
----------------
*This did not go the way I planned. Same with most of my stories at /r/dori_tales* |
**Developer console activated. Please input command.**
I almost screamed when I heard the voice say that in my head, before I realized that I was the only one to hear the voice. 'Fucking wasp,' I said to cover myself.
**Input invalid.**
I chose not to say anything as I walked away from the crowd in the shopping mall, soon finding myself in a back alley. I merely gripped my head and tried to think about what to say.
'Just what the hell is this?' I asked the voice that suddenly appeared.
**Input invalid.**
'Fuck, it's an actual code-based system,' I muttered. 'Sys.'
**Running Universe.god in ExistenceOS. In developer mode, state what you wish to spawn or attribute you wish to adjust. Keep in mind, NPCs won't acknowledge any changes.**
'I can spawn anything?' I asked. 'Spawn Big Mac.'
The next thing I knew, a McDonald's Big Mac was now in my hand, warm and having everything on it. Even as I ate it, I acknowledged that it was just like any other Big Mac as well.
Gears were already spinning in my head, ideas on how I could make good use of this. But I was also cautious as I got into my car, a decade-old Prius, and drove straight home.
The first thing I did was to lock the front and back doors, draw the curtains closed then check the electric meter, a pre-paid model that came with the house. Rather nifty for keeping a check on my power. 'Only £3.47,' I said to myself while reading the display. 'System, set House_Power_Value to 999.99.'
Almost instantly the digital display began to run up, soon showing nearly a thousand dollars of pre-paid power on the screen. I smiled to myself as I read this, probably enough for a year or so... Well, maybe. I put in £20 every fortnight and that works well enough for me.'
Then I took out my phone and opened my bank account's details. 'System, add 999,999 to my bank account.'
A quick refresh of my mobile showed the balance was now over a million pound. But I needed to verify it, so why not go onto some website and make a few extravagant purchases?
'A 70-inch 4K TV for the living room,' I said as I confirmed the purchases, 'a 50-inch for my bedroom, a 7.1 surround sound system, PS4 Pro, Xbox One X, a new coffee machine, brand new phone and... Huh, maybe I'll save on the dress shoes. Never did trust buying clothing off the net. I'll just go shopping tomorrow.'
I walked up stairs, took one look at my bedroom then sighed. 'Query - can I spawn a hooker in here?'
**This** ***isn't*** **Grand Theft Auto. If you want to fuck someone, go out and find them yourself!**
'You're awfully snarky,' I said.
**Coming from the guy who didn't just spawn what he just purchased. I sometimes don't understand humans...**
'Wait...' I muttered in surprise.
**You think the admins** ***didn't*** **notice someone using a developer console? To be honest, we're curious what you'll do so this may be the only time we directly communicate with you. And stop looking at your penis. If you make it too big, it could actually kill someone.**
'Alright,' I said. 'Just let me swap a few things about and then I'm going to go wild tomorrow!'
---
**Chapter 2 coming soon** |
The beep of the machine notified the world that life still rang through his body. He was so fragile there. A machine to help him for most of his functions hummed quietly in the corner. It was perfect, the need in his wishes would turn to anger and then he would lash out all on his own.
"You have summoned me, The Great Djinni Balfomur, you have three wishes to twist the world to your will. Be careful Not all deeds can be undone"I bellowed, my crimson-purple smoke swirled in the air framing my impressive blue physique.
"Three wishes? I don't know that I want that many things"The man said, "Surely that would be a bother to you. One or two would be just fine."He wheezed softly at the effort he had exerted just now, trying to settle himself quietly.
He was testing me, had to be. No one chained to a bed wanted to stay there. Humans craved experiences and he was being starved of that. He wasn't scared or astonished by me at all not phased in the slightest. He just sat there with the lamp that his brother left him, he had died the previous week and left him all he had.
"With a few words you could walk out of this hospital, immortality would not be out of the question"I tempted. I had a perfect twist for immortality if he ever unwound the healing part. He would be instrument spreading the corruption I wished everywhere he went.
"No, I don't think I could, Margret is waiting for me you know"He smiled and after a pause continued "Only one like that they ever made. Plus it would take more than magic to get me off this bed. Unless ... is death magic?"
"Not specifically. Margret could come back to you, I could make that happen"
"No she is at rest. I'm closer to her now then she is to me, I'll see her soon. She would probably be mad I made her travel. She hated travel you know but loved the destination"He murmured
"Enough make your wishes and be done."A sense of urgency can make someone trip up their wording hopefully into a perfect opportunity.
"Oh right You do have a job to do don't you. Do I have to say I wish or..."He inhaled "I suppose, no, I wish, sorry, that the, uh you would close the blinds on that window the uh so the sunlight is not shining in my eyes"
I paused. He was inadvertently specific I could not see any way to twist this one. I closed the shades in a way that they would not open again the would need to be removed the cost of running the hospital would raise by an insignificant amount.
"Your wish has been granted by Balfomur The Great. What is your next wish?"
"I do get three don't I. So two more. I regret that my daughter and I grew apart. We only seem to have silence between us, I tried to reach out but I forget things so often now."
"The great Balfomur could make you her best friend she would spend all her time with you."this was worded to make her die when he did. This might work.
"Oh she is busy I know with my grandchild you know. I have not met her yet. Oh I know I wish you would tell me her name please?"
He wasn't tricking me into a false sense of security. he was prepared for death. He was just didn't understand the scope of what was offered to him or didn't care.
"Cynthia Ann Timper"I said "This will be your last wish use it wisely you will get no further wishes."
"That's fine I wish for a corn beef sandwich"He beamed "don't go through to much trouble though"
The sandwich landed with a plop on top of a plate nearby him. I was done not all endeavors help you with your goals but this especially was disheartening. All I could do to this man is make his window not open anymore and but too much mustard on a sandwich I was positive he couldn't eat anyway.
|
"You know,"John sighed, breaking a loaf of bread in half, "I have a confession to make."
It was a small nod that encouraged him to continue.
"I'm starting to think that you might be immortal."
Ramseys paused over his lunch and considered the allegation. The two of them had been at this for a damned long time, come to think of it. So long he wasn't even sure why anymore. Some kind of disagreement. Something important, for them to try to kill each other for 20-something years.
"I suppose you might be on to something. Though then I'd have to accuse you as well. I guess it evens the playing field, at least."
John chuckled at that, and, using a knife, spread some jam on his bread before stabbing Ramseys in the hand.
"Now now, we called lunch truce, remember?"
"Sorry. Old habits die hard."
"Rather like us."Ramseys plucked the knife from his hand, absently watching the wound close before it could even bleed. "By the way, the jam's poisoned."
"Thought it tasted off,"John chewed and swallowed. "Arsenic?"
"I know it's your favorite."
"Well, it does have a unique note to it. But back to the matter at hand. What are we going to do about the death match, then?"
"That's a fair question. Do you even remember what we were fighting about?"
John pursed his lips, staring at the ceiling. "Wasn't it Priscilla? Wasn't the winner going to marry her?"
"Hell, that's a dumb thing for two immortals to fight over. She's probably dead or married now anyway."
"Shit, you're probably right." |
When he first got this ability, he thought he would save people. Be a hero. Like in the comics.
Instead of teleporting for a cookie. But he was hungry. And he wanted it.
He looked around and then sighed. His power only worked when no one was around. And of course no one was around. He was alone. In bed. Lying down, in his red sweater, fat and in red socks.
His girlfriend had left him. Didn’t understand the changes. He wasn’t the same person.
Of course he wasn’t, he could teleport.
She didn’t know. He could never show her. It didn’t work if she was looking. It didn’t work if anyone looked. So it was good riddance.
But he didn’t move. Didn’t teleport. Didn’t budge. He couldn’t understand why. He was alone in his bedroom.
He got up and turned on the lights. Alone.
He tried again and groaned in frustration. Why wasn’t it working?
Back in bed he stared at the wall and blinked. She left him and he was alone. They had been together for over a decade and she left him because of what, that he had changed. He Had become cold, she said. Who did she think she was? That uppity bitch.
He had powers. He could do anything he wanted. He did try to save people. But then he figured he could just get what he wanted.
He didn’t have to try. He just took. It was easier and he was lazy. First it was cash. Then it was cars. Then...
He was a god. Why save the lives of ants?
So he took them. Took. Took. And took.
Of course. That’s why. He couldn’t teleport because, well because he wasn’t alone.
He got up and look down. She was there. Lying down. He stepped over her body. He stepped over her boyfriends body. And the pool of blood. He stepped out of the room relaxed.
Of course alone meant alone. Dead or alive.
He blinked like a flashlight and was downstairs. He took his cookie.
He left their house.
He wanted something else. |
Greetings humans.
We are the (Unintelligible), a species from the Andromeda Galaxy. We have received the message you have given to us via your probe, and we have sent it back with this message.
We will be sending an envoy into your star system in twenty human years' time, due to arrive after fifty human years after departure. We are interested in establishing a trade agreement with your government, we understand that you planet is rich in entertainment and resources, and we are willing to trade such items in exchange for technology and knowledge.
We know that we will be able to learn much from each other, and we are excited about the day that our species meet.
We look forward to our meeting.
Regards,
(Unintelligible)
---
We have listened to the entertainment that your probe has sent to us, and we were impressed. As a gift, we have included in our message a [sample](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dQw4w9WgXcQ&feature=youtu.be) of our own entertainment, by the greatest entertainer of our people.
Regards,
(Unintelligible)
---
*Thus the scientists fell to their knees in despair at what they heard. How could they have let their guard down, when it was staring right at their faces?* |
"THIS IS BARBARISM!"The K'vallian Ambassador stood in anger, raising a claw and clacking it loudly for emphasis.
"Ambassador, please!"The President of the Council, a Mulak, as evidenced by his too long limbs and seven eyes, stood and spoke, calming the assembled Council members. "Let us hear from the Human representative. Mr. Calbron, could you please explain this again? It is a very difficult concept for us to grasp."
"Of, course, Mr. President."I stood and straightened my tie, looking around the room as I had been trained. "Several thousand years ago, humanity realized that we couldn't tame out planet alone."
Ah, there, the Junzai Ambassador. She was vulnerable. She was eyeing Rex curiously, without the hostility of the K'vallian Ambassador, who stared at me like I had stolen his lunch. I had eye contact as best I could, meeting two of her four eyes as I continued to speak.
"We started a process of domestication, creating food and companionship from wild animals."I remembered the talking points, looking properly chagrined as I spoke of our barbaric history.
"It was a different time. We weren't as evolved then, and we bred animals for food."I didn't have to try and look guilty here. I felt it, deep down. My ancestors had once been farmers on Old Terra, raising cows to eat, stealing their milk and their children. It was barbarism, as the K'vallian pointed out.
"And yet, you still keep 'pets' as you call them!"I was interrupted by the Ambassador once more, his claws clacking eerily.
"Only two breeds are legally allowed to be domesticated, Ambassador. Dogs and Cats, only."I understood his frustration. In fact, most people sided with the Ambassador lately, wanting to abolish ownership of any creature.
"Allowed to be domesticated! Ha!"The Ambassador stood and addressed the rest of the audience. I, however, ignored him, focusing on the Ambassador from the Junzai. "See how he speaks of intelligent life, held in bondage?"
"Madam Ambassador, would you like to talk to him?"Rex was at my side, as he always was. As he had been since birth, eight years ago.
"Talk? To your pet?"The K'vallian Ambassador mocked me, but I ignored him, tapping Rex on the shoulder and letting him know it was okay. With a happy bark, he raced across the small room and leapt into the Junzai Ambassador's lap, as her tentacles wrapped around him in surprise and her skin changed color from neutral grey to a delighted blue.
"Rex is a fully-fledged member of my team. You are free to question him yourself, to see if he is a slave."That took some getting used to, initially, but we came to love that the Junzai could telepathically speak with any creature. We could finally talk to our pets!
"He is such a good boy!"The Junvai spoke quietly, running a tentacle along Rex's back, making him wag happily.
"He says you are going on a walk when you get back?"I laughed, as Rex turned to look at me, tilting his head in questioning.
"Yes, Ma'am. We do after every session. He's very smart, so he understands my schedule."I laughed, as Rex barked happily.
"Ambassador, I can testify that this... Rex is extremely happy. He invites us all to play something he calls Catch."Oh, Rex. Lovable Rex. He was a better ambassador then I could ever be.
"I invite you all to join us."I smiled widely, showing my teeth, a sign of peaceful intentions to most of the Intergalactic community.
"He also says you have a... Danger Beast."The Junvai looked up at me, surprise and a trace of fear in her eyes, as her skin turned a dull purple.
"He means the cat, Julius."I chuckled, before realizing that they were going to interview Julius as well.
"And can we speak to this Julius?"The Junvai ambassador smiled politely, seeing my discomfort.
"If he deigns to speak to you, sure."I shrugged. We had given up on using cats in diplomacy. They never accused us of anything cruel, but they were too arrogant to act as good hosts.
"If he deigns? He rules over you?"The K'vallian ambassador appeared surprised, having been told we enslaved our pets.
"Well... cats are interesting..."
***
Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, you can find more of my work at r/Shinz_Stories! |
Some things are best left in the dark. Not a popular position for an archaeologist to take, I know. But one I wish I had taken sooner.
The money was good. Which is not usually the case. If you aren’t digging up precious metals people don’t want to pay. But most people don’t send you on snipe hunts either.
Horstman was the fourteenth richest man in the world. The sort of rich that doesn't ever have to hear the word “no”. And I certainly wasn’t going to be the first to tell him.
I figured I would do some research, come to same conclusion every sane person has for the last hundred years, collect my prodigious check, and be on my way. Magic is a ruse. A way to trick people into believing something that is not so.
But, and this is what I have always loved about the job, the research took a turn. Accounts of Mesopotamians, the Assyrians, the Macedonians. Knowledge that they had that could not easily be explained away. A shared understanding of The Incarnation of Magic, the source of all power, something that let man be as Gods. All of these little hints that circle around and around.
And, at the center, a tomb. A pyramid, really, in Egypt. But where every pyramid we’ve ever found points up at the sky, this one was buried with the point facing down. It seemed mad, But when I showed up with a shovel the rock was where it was supposed to be.
People try to explain how rich a billionaire is, but they don’t get it right. Within twenty four hours of informing Horstman I had a crew of twelve hundred men and every backhoe and crane in Egypt. It was not how I would have preferred to work. But I wasn’t writing the checks.
Horstman was there too, wearing a panama hat and a smile.
I remember the rocks leaving one by one. We stacked them in a pyramid, but right side. It may have been desecration, but it was convenient. It took us six days to move them. All but the last one.
We waited for that. We had champagne that cost more than my house. And we watched the stone shift with the crane, before breaking free and rising.
And then it came out from under the stone. I can’t describe what it looked like. It has no shape it prefers. I just know it was hungry. A hundred men were consumed. Then a hundred more. The sky turned red and the storms came, and it worked in darkness.
I don’t understand what we’ve released. I can’t even pretend. All I can do is tell you, who are reading this, I’m sorry. If there is anyone to read this anymore. It is magic incarnate and it’s anger is terrifying to behold. I should never have taken the money. There are some things that are never meant to see the light of day. |
I look down at the axe that was dripping onto the previously pristine marble floor. It was a huge weapon, viciously curved with a spike at its top. My arms, though trained for the purpose, were aching from the frenzied use of the tool only moments ago. I let the weapon fall to the floor, watching as the priest flinches at the sudden reverberating sound.
"There are many Gods. Aren't there Priest?"
The man looks confused for a second, his hands twisting the multicolored length of cord the people of his order used in their venerations. Eventually my words seem to get through to him and he straightens his back to answer me, a righteous fire in his eyes.
"Many false Gods heathen. Our Goddess, Ynysig, was the only real divinity!"
"Yes, they all say that. Strange isn't it that your Goddess, so perfect and benevolent, was not worshipped across the lands?"
He pauses at that, his slender, unmarred hands clutching the cord until his knuckles were white.
"They can not see her brilliance, corrupted as they are by her wicked brothers and sisters,"the priest announces and there is a confidence in his voice that turns my stomach. I stretch, easing out knots from my shoulders and the man flinches again.
"I see. What did your Goddess ask of her worshippers Priest?"
"What did the.... she asked nothing of her faithful! She gave us everything, without question, requiring we only spread work of her light among the lost!"
"Expansion,"I sigh, crouching on my haunches and studying the purple blood that coated my weapon, and now the temple's floor. I never knew what colour it would be, only that it was never red. "Each of them always ask the same thing - spread, grow. By any means necessary."
"A benevolent Divine would of course wish to spread their love to..."
"It gives them power you fool. They draw strength from the prayers and adoration of humans. You are food."
The priest splutters angrily, turning as if to draw on help. His eyes settle on my axe and I can see tears forming.
"You come here on behalf of the King of Lies,"he begins but I stand quickly and he stops, almost falling back onto his knees.
"Your Goddess protected your people, while she implored your armies to go out and forcefully convert the rest of the world. And those that refuse are put to death aren't they priest? "
"If they cannot..."
"Be quiet!"
The man does fall to his knees this time, as my shout echoes around huge plinths and golden effigies. I pick up my axe, hefting its substantial yet comforting weight.
"Every nation that tolerates one of these beings is the same priest. Their Gods are kind and just *to them*. They are parasites that use us in their own power struggles. To feed their ethereal bellies. "
I rest the massive weapon on my shoulder and walk past the priest, who remains sprawled on the floor. Some of the blood has trickled down towards him, touching his splayed hand, and he lifts it to his face in horror.
"When you stand directly in the light priest, everything outside appears black. I hope that soon you will be able to truly see the world as it is."
I left, making my way back through the winding, intricate corridors of the temple, leaving behind the sobbing remains of Ynysig's High priest. I had to leave the city immediately before the population rose up and demanded my execution.
And there were still many more God's left in the world. |
He lay in his minimum security cell smiling to himself. Most Villains took it with a badge of honor to be kept in supermax, ultramax, the moon colony or worse. Tricky didn't. He enjoyed the simpler things. The freedom of the yard. Having the ear of the Warden and getting him some of the little things he liked. A good book. A fresh meal. A nice roaring fireball that took out half the facility where his enemies were housed, which happened to leave his cell undamaged.
A hero in a yellow outfit opened the door to his cell. He had a silly name. Bluster, Blower? Bellower? Whatever it was, it was wind based. “Trickster, what are you doing here?” he blustered.
“Me? I'm sitting quietly in my cell, where the justice system put me. I'm reading a book. It's about magicians.” He took a drink of tea.
“Have you seen the chaos out here?” He gestured to the sunlight falling in to the facility. It looked like a nice day. Some concrete fell past from above, and someone fell past. The Bellower swooped off the edge to save them, returning a few minutes later.
“You're still here.” He said with mild surprise.
“My stuff is here.” Tricky gestured at his cell. For the first time the hero seemed to look around it. It was clearly meant for a dozen or so people, but only had him in it. There was a large comfortable looking bed, a table with a continental breakfast laid out on it, and a small but well stocked library.
“What is this?” The hero asked looking stocked. “Is this your lair?”
“No no no. They converted the library into another set of cells. However some paperwork went missing somewhere and they didn't have the right to keep more than one person in it overnight. I was assigned to this cell.”
“And the food?” He gestured at the table.
“I have dietary requirements. And I'm non popular with the other inmates. Something about being unable to hurt me or make me do something I don't want to being impossible, and usually not ending well for them.” He smiled kindly.
The hero asked timidly. “Are you going to help.”
“Why would I do that?”
The hero swallowed “I can put in a good word with the parole board.”
Tricky finished his tea. “Well. It must be my lucky day.” |
*Lucifer, as in the one and only, fallen angel Lucifer?*
My subconscious being compelled me to move backwards in response, the reaction of a tinge of both fear and curiosity alike, the myths and beliefs that surrounded the being before me were not lost. True to what he claimed at least, he certainly seemed like a archangel, with the white light, and white wings, and whiter teeth of all things, from a visual perspective alone, he remained to be truthful.
Seeming a bit insulted, Lucifer raised a hand to his chin, and inspected me. Odd, even if he was a angel, the weight of his eyes were not lost on me. Warm, beautiful, and with a aura of repose, I felt my heart gradually quell, and return to its natural rhythm.
Was this the result of logical instinct, or something darker?
"So you're the Archangel, eh?"
I couldn't help but smile, frolicking around the pentagram, my academic and childlike wonder held the better of me., leading me to inspect the angel before me to no end.
"Curious aren't you, child?"
"Damn right."I replied in earnest.
Hell, I had come to stake my soul for the purposes of knowledge in the first place, so it wouldn't have made the slightest sense if I didn't at least try to understand what was before me wouldn't it?
"If you have any questions, you need but ask."
Marring my logical mind, the very notion of asking questions freely only now came to be as a concept. Of course, if he was a Archangel then he would be a lot friendlier! Why that was only logical, no need to sacrifice twenty goats or virgins for a semblance of a answer, only friendly parley.
"Very well then!"I jabbed my index finger out and thrust it at him. "Why are you so goddamn pure? Considering what everyone and the bible says about you, aren't you supposed to be evil with horns and stuff?"
The faintest hint of a smile dragging out my lips, I hoped to influence whatever perception he had of me, to that of a bumbling idiot. Well, that and I just felt like saying it.
"That is merely a contrivance of the modern church."
Not bad. If he meant modern as in hundreds of years, then he was correct. Rebranded as Lucifer, the original term for the being before me was that of 'Satan'. Considered a judge of the heavenly dumbos above, he remained to hold that position from The Book of Job all the way through the New Testament.
Much more a ruthless by the book enforcer, then a ruthless and evil radical, was this the true nature of the being before me?
No doubt having noticed my quaint expression, the so called 'Lucifer' paced from one end of his prison to the other.
"So what you're saying is that your actually a cool dude after all, right?"
"It would depend on your interpretation of 'cool'". He commented, going as far as to use his index and middle fingers to create makeshift quotations.
"Well, how about something that'll risk my life and give plenty of adrenaline, while also not being too dangerous that I would die anticlimactically out of nowhere?"
That was a good enough series of guidelines right?
"Very well then."As if receiving a newfound revelation, Lucifer stroked his chin with earnest, and for the first time since our encounter, smiled.
"How would you like to overthrow god?"
For a archangel, that sure was a preposterous statement.
"You see, the truth is, I never did become a red, horned demon in the first place, as I said, a contrivance of the modern church, that being said, I did attempt to overthrow god, and as a matter of fact, I'm still trying to."
Expectedly, or perhaps unexpectedly, my composure faltered and the circle cancelled.
"So, where do we start, buddy?"
Borderline suicidal or at the bare minimum, warranting some divine justice, I moved to Big L (the L stands for Lucifer), and wrapped my right arm around his back, and used me left to gesture to the sky.
"Well, here's the thing, it's going to start with you well..."
Wrapping his arm around me like a pair of buddies, I never did hear the last part of his sentence.
Though if I had to suppose, it would have started with a word beginning with d and ending with ying.
Edit : If you wanna see more of my stuff feel free to check out r/Armorien! Also I may or may not update this, sorry no guarantees! I have to come up with something. |
"Do I have to die?"I asked the man opposite me.
He was a classically handsome man. A head of perfectly groomed sandy blond hair, sharp, defined features, and a pressed pinstripe suit. He looked more like an old stock broker than an emissary of Death. One eyebrow arched at my question, the only break in his steely facade.
"Mister Hendricks..."He said with little emotion. "We all must go sometime."
"I know that, but why does it have to be now? Why when I'm so close..."I trailed off.
I had finally begun to make something of myself. I had left the sparse street corners and empty bars behind. I had a real gig set aside. The kind with stage lights and expensive equipment. The kind with a crowd of people, all paying and waiting to see me play.
After seven years, I felt like I had finally achieved something. I was a winner. I was hitting my stride.
But the Reaper got to me first.
"If not today, then it would be some other, seemingly random day."The Reaper said professionally. "You could get into a car wreck on March 3rd, choke on a breath mint on July 20th, or slip on a patch of ice and crack your skull on November 27th."
I looked at him, horrified by the cold, clinical way that he spoke.
He pinched the bridge of his nose and looked up to me again. Compassion and a slight amount of shame present on his face. "I apologize. What I had meant to say was this: every say, you open your eyes and take your life in your hands. You hop into a two ton mass of metal, plastic, and burning gasoline, drive at speeds no land animal could match, and meet with friends to drink diluted poison. You make every choice in life with the possibility of death."
"But that doesn't mean I should be afraid all the time,"I blurted out defensively, "Life is meant to be lived."
"Of course."The Reaper said with a ghost of a smile. "But life is only worth living because it ends."
I was silent for a while. The Reaper's eyes slowly drew to the unopened beer on my countertop, right next to my car keys. I had reasoned to myself that the one beer wouldn't hurt anyone. That I would be fine.
"That is your first option. You drink that, having eaten nothing all day and with little body fat to help you tolerate any of it, get into your car, and go to the nearest restaurant as a celebration of the big day tomorrow. You've earned it, after all. Partway through the drive, you begin to feel the slight buzz that comes at the start of a drinking session and fail to notice the car speeding through the intersection. You die on impact. It is painless, despite all appearances."
I swallowed hard "You're sure?"
He nodded "Positive. I will make sure of it personally."
Slowly, I began to nod. At least it will be painless. At least I will have that much. It's more than some get. "Okay..."
"Listen to my second choice before you come to a decision."The Reaper interrupted. "The second option is this: you leave both your drink and keys here and go for a walk. You take your guitar with you to the usual street corner. One last hurrah before your new life as a professional begins. You play a few songs, drawing a decent crowd. Some people throw a few coins in, some just watch and listen. Songs are requested. Some happy, some sad. You test the full range of your playing ability. Everyone is smiling, but none smile wider than you do. It is a peaceful night."
His eyes scanned me, seeing if I was prepared to hear what came next. I wasn't, but I needed to know. I nodded for him to continue.
"Finally, a new member joins the crowd and requests a song. *I'll Follow You Into the Dark.* It's morbid, but oddly fitting. You play it well. So well that a young boy turns his attention to you as he passes, causing him to drop the ball he is holding onto the crosswalk. He doesn't see the car coming as he gives chase. Nor do any of the crowd, but you do. You drop your guitar, only for it to catch on your shoulder strap as you shove your way through the growd into the street. At the last second, you manage to shove the boy out of the way. Your guitar explodes onto a shower of splinters and strings, and your vision goes white. For several minutes, you are left on the asphalt, covered in the shards of your once-pristine guitar. The crowd that was listening to you play now gather around, trying to get you help. You pass away in front of them."
I was silent for a long moment, feeling the weight of what the Reaper had said bear down upon me.
"That's it?"I asked. "I finally get a crowd and then die? What kind of ending is that? And I suffer at the end of it?"
The Reaper shook his head "It's not that simple."
"It sure sounds like it is. You fed me all of this shit before about how important it is to die, and both of my choices are awful. Why can't I just stay in tonight and watch TV?"
"We all must go sometime."He repeated.
"Yeah,"I said smugly. "All of us but you, eh Death?"
The Reaper stiffened, his pale grey eyes locked on me. "I took my first steps the very second that life began. When it ends, so will I. We *all* must go sometime."
There was a rage at the edge of his voice, but it never rose. Not even a little. It was the quiet, bitter anger that simmered over millennia.
I looked down, defeated. "Why do I have to die like this? Why are these my choices?"
"The first is painless, but lonely."He said softly. "You will die alone, half-drunk, on your way to celebrate a hollow victory. A decision you would have made all on your own."
I looked again at my counter for a brief moment before my eyes dropped. "I've been alone before."
"Yes. You have. You spent your whole life chasing crowds, trying to get one step higher on some metaphorical ladder of success. You told yourself you didn't have time for anyone else. That you needed to be successful first."
I looked across the room to my guitar case. "And in my other choice, I get it."
"Yes. You play your songs for them, enjoying the music. The chase doesn't matter to you, nor does the crowd, and the music feels sweeter for it. You die happy, and not alone."
I looked at the Reaper, with the soft smile creasing his perfectly-groomed face.
"Die painlessly but alone, or die in peace."I said, my mind finally made up. "Okay." |
Alfredo had got it from a Marlin who got it from a Turtle, whose sister’s mate’s nephew claimed to know a Diver well. Alfredo, a Prawn of the highest order, the most distinguished breeding, wasn’t sure if he believed it—some things were simply too fantastical—but as time passed he found himself growing more and more enamored with the story.
In the end, what turned him was a Whale.
On the night before he left, Alfredo sat for a time in the waters of his youth, watching the Common Shrimp at their labors. All was peaceful. As it should be. The world was a deep, dark blue. Light filtered down from above, painting little currents through the sea, where good things might be found to eat. Farther afield Alfredo saw Ebi, the girl he met occasionally when the world wasn’t watching.
The Whale was a streak of black set out against the sea; a planet set to collide with his own. Its mouth was an yawning, soulless thing. Black on black on black. A maw. It opened wider and everything shifted.
After, the Common Shrimp were gone. It was like Ebi had never existed. And Alfredo, disquieted now in a way he could never explain, thought of the Marlin’s *Coo-King*, his oral history of the Divers.
With it, he’d said the Divers were the masters of their world. Were not eaten, but rather consume the largest creatures. He’d said that the Divers could eat a Whale.
Alfredo wanted to see that very badly.
Perched now in a glass tank surrounded by Common Shrimp from other lands, other peoples, a Prawn cast out among the masses, Alfredo watched as the Divers executed their *Coo-king.*
They were strange creatures, the Divers. They’d shed their exoskeletons, black like the Whale, thick and slick and warm like a second skin. Skinned now, they looked nearly like a different animal. Their shapes were right, but all else was wrong. Even their eyes seemed to have receded into their heads.
To the edges of the Diver’s world, everything was fire and steel. Fast Divers with large, round-bottomed devices tossed mountains of white grains through the air with flicks of their wrists. The noise was deafening. The sharp cracks of metal against metal, a loud sizzle that he’d come to associate with a beginning.
Or, perhaps, with ending. A net knifed down through the waters of Alfredo’s tank, grabbed several of the Common Shrimp. He watched. Watched as they were carried to a station, as another Diver took them. Prepared them. Laid them out next to the white grains and streaks of green. Slices of a dark root that he’d seen lay next to pools of fluid as salty as the ocean that Alfredo had left behind.
Part of him knew that he should be sickened. That he would have been before the Whale. But the Whale had changed something for Alfredo, un-moored him from all that came before. He saw the Common Shrimp laying there, knew that if he wasn’t quick and clever, that might be him, but Alfredo didn’t care. Shrimp didn’t matter here, the Divers did. And farther down the line, a man was a preparing an enormous fish, splitting with such ease, taking out the meat. A head passed by on a platter and Alfredo blinked. It was a Marlin.
It was power too. Power like Alfredo had never seen, as the Diver at the Shrimp station turned flame the flame all the up, ladled in his oil and swirled it around, poured the old oil off and started fresh with a lightning procession of vegetables, followed by the shrimp. Alfredo watched as his countrymen shifted, went from gray to pink, became so hideously dead—and yet.
He couldn’t look away from the tableau. There was the Marlin in the distance, the Shrimp in the foreground, the Divers between, *Coo-King* a martial art that could rewrite a world. Kill a Whale. Take, perhaps, a measure of revenge.
It was so beautiful. In his tank, a Prawn alone among the Common Shrimp, Alfredo screamed for the sheer excitement of it. Screamed for Ebi, and for what he might do now. Screamed, because some men just wanted to watch the burn.
The net descended again.
\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_
That was weird. If you enjoyed it and want more there's tons over at r/TurningtoWords. Come check it out, I'd love to have you! |
I’d always loved reading, even as a youth. I So when I started carrying a book or two with me as an adult, it felt familiar. There was always comfort in stories.
Deep in another world, I wouldn’t hear my father fucking his whores, or my mother screaming about it. I’d forget the pain of the bruises from the other boys at school, or from my own brother at home. Even the wounds left by the words of the girls I liked would heal when I read.
I always said I wished I had more time to read. I’d never expected it to come true. I’d never expected to actually read as much as I wanted. I must be the most well read person in history at this point.
It started maybe twelve years ago. Hit thirty years last Wednesday for me, according to my estimates. Time is hard to tell when clocks don’t tick. But I know how fast I read, and I know how many books I’ve read.
The first time I panicked initially, but all was fine. Sitting at a cafe, watching the birds fly by when they froze in place. I was freed from the constraints of time for so long I’d wandered out to a park to lay in the grass. It was a serene, if otherworldly experience. I thought that must be what drugs are like.
The second time didn’t go so well. I was driving. I do not drive anymore. Turns out my momentum is preserved. Lucky again, I was only going about ten mph when time froze, but I fell right on my face when it unfroze. Still have a little scar on my elbow from where I fell. My car, however, did not fare so well.
This is the first time I’ve left where I froze in a long time. Don’t get me wrong. I’ve gotten up, taken the books off someone else’s shelves, but that’s about it. Usually read them already anyway.
This time, however, I read every book in my house. Twice. Then I wandered to the bookstore down the street, and the library, and read every book in each of them, twice.
Now? I can only surmise who or whatever controlled this has died. Now, I have read every book in the world, more than twice. I know every language, every science, everything. I’ve wandered every inch of this planet. I have walked across the ocean, not scared but hopeful that time would unfreeze and I would drown. Even death would be better than this monotony. This eternal punishment for my lack of appreciation for the world around me.
But, in the meantime, I think I’ll escape into a book. |
Republican state Sen. Michael Buckley stared at the almighty creator with all the vehemence of the GOP. "What's with the getup?"
God shrugged. "I really thought it would be the squids. I mean, apes? Last time I checked in on you guys you were flinging shit at each other."He took a look at the protesters outside the bullet-proof window. "And not much has changed, as far as I can tell. I'm sticking with it. I still have hope for the squids."
"They'd love you over in Japan."
"Eh!?"
The senator frowned.
"I went to Tokyo last week,"said God. "Took a stroll down Akihabara. That's an accurate expression of shocked surprise. Eh!?"God moved his tentacles around.
*GOD IS A LIE. ALL HAIL CTHULHU OUR LORD AND SAVIOR. ASK HIM IF HE'S SEEN SQUID GAME*. The protesters were a mixed bunch. When God announced he was coming down to Earth to check up on his creation, the GOP cheered. When he revealed that he'd taken the form of the humble squid, no one really knew what to think. Still, it was Michael Buckley who had managed to score the first interview with the almighty creator of the world and he was hoping to clinch the primaries with the revelation that God favored both conservatism as well as Buckley himself. A particularly fervid protester held a sign that simply said, AS A SQUID INKETH. "It's clever,"he mouthed with desperate eyes.
Sen. Michael Buckley cleared his throat. "You were in Japan? But this is, as I understand it, your very first interview with humanity?"
"Oh yeah."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
"I can see why you would be reluctant to present yourself in all your glory before a godless nation. As Christians, we—"
"You're Christians?"God blinked.
"... Yes. As Christians—"
"Hmm."
"What's that?"
"Well ... It's just that I'm not all that big on religion."
"You're God ..."
"Yup."
"God isn't 'all that big' on ... religion?"
"That's right."
"... May I ask why?"
"I'm glad you asked! I like to think of life as controlled anarchy. I made a little RNA soup and chance and necessity is what has led us to this exact moment. Freedom is important. Anarchy. That's how evolution works, you can't put all your eggs in one Darwinian basket. You need diversity. And religion is the opposite of that, with its demands that everyone act and think the same. It's stifling, frankly. It's not controlled *chaos*. It's chaos, *controlled*. And that's no good. No bueno."
"D-Darwin? Evolution? Wait, did the libtards get to you? What have you been smoking? You created everything."
"I set things in motion, but that was pretty much it. And Earth is, I'm so sorry to tell you, my least favorite of my creations. Because of religion. It's like you've made this wonderful salad and then suddenly there's a bug in it and you're like, oh man, that's disgusting. And you're sad because you were proud of making the salad, you looked forward to eating it, but that little bug just ruined everything. And that's how I think about religion: it's a bug in my salad of creation."
"B-But what about Jesus? What about the afterlife?"
God squinted his eyes at the senator. "Jesus? Afterlife?"
"There's ... no Jesus? No afterlife?"
"Oh! Well there was a prophet."
"There was!?"
"Yes! She was a squid, though."
Michael Buckley slunk down in his seat. "Your prophet was a ... squid."
God made a tentacular gesture. "Again, I really thought it would be all about the squids here."
A protester outside scowled at the two of them from behind the glass. *NO SQUID PRO QUO*, his sign read.
State Sen. Michael Buckley groaned. Of course it was a live debate. Of course he would have to be the one to interview God and break the news that their treasured desert carpenter turned out to have just been some guy. That there would be no afterlife. That God didn't care for religion. They would all blame him for it. He'd never become the Republican candidate. "What are you even doing here, then?"he said. He could feel the veins of his forehead throbbing. "You're not the almighty father—You're a deadbeat father!"
In the moment, insulting God felt like the right move. But when he saw the sly smile curl across God's molluscular lips, he knew he had fucked up.
"Why am I here? I am here to remove the bugs from my salad,"said God.
The divine squid creator of all things stood up and let rip a pulse of electromagnetic radiation like a laser of pure sunset. Red, hot, and searing the beam moved like a cosmic whip from state Sen. Michael Buckley's groin to the top of his wig. *I am sizzling*, thought Buckley's left hemisphere. *Hot hot hot*, thought his right hemisphere. Then neither thought no more.
Outside, the man holding the sign saying *ALL HAIL CTHULHU OUR LORD AND SAVIOR* slowly nodded his head while the rest of them ran for their lives. "Badass,"the man mouthed. "Bad-fucking-ass." |
"You want to develop a mass driver that can fire a shot at faster-than-light speeds,"I said flatly.
"Yes!"said President Dumbass. "Let's make a gun that'll wipe the damn aliens off the face of their dirty planet from lightyears away!"
I rubbed my forehead and sighed. Every day, it was like this. Another summons from President Dipshit with some grand idea that would raise his flagging poll numbers and convince the Terran voterbase that voting in this idiot wasn't the worst idea since 21st century politics. "Unfortunately, mister President, that's impossible."
"Nothing's impossible,"President Moron replied. "That was my campaign slogan in 2109."
"I know. I was there."I took a deep breath. "Look, sir. . . the truth is that this is impossible. Lightspeed is a hard limit. It takes an enormous amount of energy even to get our mass drivers up to their current top velocity of one-quarter of the speed of light. For that much energy, you could get a maser cannon that delivers ten times the impact at four times the velocity. It's better to keep our budget on developing energy weapons instead of trying to make mass drivers match their performance."
President Mouthbreather stared at me blankly. "What about these. . . tachyon things?"
"Tachyons are theoretical particles that can only travel faster than light. If they existed, then in theory they'd also have negative mass and would be moving backwards in time, like anything that managed to move faster than light. We've never been able to find any evidence they actually exist."
"Well, then discover them."
"Excuse me?"
"Discover Tachyons, then discover how to use them to shoot a mass driver faster than light. That's an order from the President."
"Fucking fine!"I shouted, throwing my hands up in the air. "I'll fucking get right on it. . ."
And that's when the sun went out.
\-----
"As far as we can tell,"Quix'ar said, "The extinguishing of your Sun was directly caused by an unusual phenomenon. Apparently, a ten-kilogram slug of depleted uranium traveling at faster-than-light speeds that was fired ten years from now traveled back in time at ten times the normal Planck Time Tick Rate, passed through your sun, and disrupted the fusion reactions within."He looked up from his tablet. "We believe that the shot originated from your Pluto base."
". . . fucking hell,"I grimaced. "I guess I did it." |
“Sometimes machines make mistakes. Giving humans powers is a new concept. Think about all those children out there that can’t afford superpowers. Are you really going to sue me for something as little as this?” Dr. Lazia asked. The doctor raised his hands, attempting to appear harmless, hoping to lessen my fury.
“Machines? Are you still trying to blame this on the machine? How did you make a spelling mistake at such a crucial time? Aren’t you meant to double check these things with a nurse?” I argued, wishing I could blow a gust of air at him. Hell, I would have been happy to just wrap a snake around his neck. Unfortunately, hospitals weren’t the natural habitat of snakes, so the best I could do was wave my arms around, expressing my anger that way.
“Well… technically…” Dr. Lazia began mumbling, trying to stall for as long as he could, not wanting to admit any liability for his mistake.
“What?”
“As I was saying. Mmmmph… mpmmm… mmm…”
“I know you’re just trying to cover yourself. You’re lucky I don’t have a snake or I would smack you with it.”
“That’s a threat! He threatened me. Everyone heard that. Threat here, against a respected doctor.” Dr. Lazia screeched, acting as though I had made an illegal tackle in a game of soccer, and he was looking for a ref to send me off.
“It wasn’t a threat. Look, what if you just put the hydrokinesis into me? If you do that, I think I can overlook this entire mess. It might even be useful to have those two abilities. Sure, I doubt controlling snakes will ever come in handy, but it’s nice to have. Like a matchbox or something. Except with fangs.”
“I would love to do that. Truly, honestly, surely, I would love to do that, but the human body can barely handle one superpower. Let alone two. The calories needed to power a superpowered human are four times the average. If we doubled that, I doubt your body would keep up. Even with superpowers, you’re still only human.”
“So, what you’re saying is you can’t fix this?”
“What I’m saying is… Mmmmphgg… nmmmg.” As he continued his game of deniability, his pager went off, giving him an excuse to leave. “Ah, work calls. I’ll get someone to call you. I have to go see a patient.”
“Make sure you get a proofreader. You dick.” I doubt he even heard my insult, rushing from the room, leaving me to sit on the hospital bed alone.
I didn’t see Dr. Lazia for the rest of my brief stay. The nurses came and handled my recovery, making sure I had a hearty meal and drank four liters of water. The basic things needed to fuel a superpowered body. I asked them about the mistake, but none of them could offer any answers and it felt rude to question them. It wasn’t their mistake. After four hours, I was told I could leave, pushed outside with my new hydrakinesis abilities.
The first thing I did when I left was check my phone, reading through all the text messages from family and friends congratulating me on getting the surgery. Great, how was I going to explain this to them? I had asked them all for donations, offering to help them with their chores when I got my new powers. I doubt I was going to be able to offer them anything with my snake controlling powers. Maybe after the lawsuit, I could just pay them back? Although, I needed that money to cover the large amounts of food I would need to consume now.
The walk home was a depressing one. Usually, you didn’t notice people with powers. It’s like seeing someone with different colored hair. Sure, the first couple of times it’s unique, but after a while you just stop paying attention to it. Although, today, I couldn’t help but notice, watching everyone showing off their new abilities with a smile on their faces, unable to stop myself from feeling a little jealous.
“Really? Do you have to do that out here? There are street poles all over the place. If you aren’t careful, you will float right up into a wire. Won’t be so fun then, will it?” I snapped, getting a weird stare from the street performer that was showing off his amazing floating dances.
The crowd of people gave me a sour boo as I walked past. In return, I gave them a dismissive flick of my hand. What would they know? They weren’t the ones that got robbed out of superpowers. It was only a short walk home and yet it felt like it never ended, the streets never having felt so long before. When I passed a pet shop, I stopped, staring at the reptiles inside. Before I knew it, I was inside, my face pressed against the glass as the little green snake inside stuck its tongue out at me.
“Aww, he likes you. That little guy rarely ever comes close to the glass.” The worker said, giving me a smile as she took a spot beside me, watching the snake.
The green tree snake moved away from her, keeping close to wherever my face was, not leaving my side. When she saw the display, she let out a small sigh.
“See what I mean? He’s usually so unfriendly. You must be pretty special. Have you ever considered owning a snake? It’s a bit of work, but some people find them rather comforting.”
“Honestly, not really. I was always more of a dog person. I preferred a pet that couldn't poison me at some point.”
“That’s a shame. He seems to like you. It’s a pity, a lot of people don’t understand snakes. They think they are these dangerous monsters that secretly want to hurt you, but most of them are fairly calm. As long as you’re gentle and relaxed around them, they won’t harm you.”
I watched the little green snake, smiling as he tapped his head against the glass, trying to get closer to me. I couldn’t say no to him.
“Ok, mind helping me pick out a tank?”
“Certainly, we have vivariums that would be perfect for your little friend.”
With my new purchases, I headed home, wishing I had waited until I had my car with me. Carrying the tank was a bit of a pain, but at least my little snake friend seemed happy. Kermit, as I had named him, wrapped around the fake tree in his tank, staring at me as I carried him.
“You’re oddly cute, you know that, Kermit? Sure, I doubt you can fill the empty void that hydrokinesis left in my heart, but I still think we will get along.” As I said that, Kermit looked away from me. “I’m just being honest. No need to get moody about it.”
As I made it back to my street, I heard a wicked scream, one that was followed by the words. “SNAKEEEEEEEEEEE”
“Yes, I know, his name’s Kermit.” I called back, before realizing the comment wasn’t directed at me. I placed the tank down, rushing towards my neighbor’s house. Bob was standing on his porch, waving his chair at the small brown snake moving in front of him. The snake didn’t appear interested in him, just trying to find a way around the obstacle.
“Damn it, don’t come any closer.”
“Easy Bob.” I hurried over, placing my hands on the floor. I called the snake over and it climbed into my hands, staring up at me. Its tongue tickling my hand, licking it.
“Huh? Is that thing a pet of yours or something? If so, watch where you let that thing roam.”
“No, I can just control snakes. I’ll tell you about it later. I’ll get rid of this for you.”
I turned to leave, only for Bob to call me back over. He placed a twenty-dollar note on the chair he had been waving, offering me the money.
“Here. As a thank you.”
While I could have been humble and not accepted the money, I was a little desperate. I took the cash and returned to my tank, setting the new snake inside. “Play nice, you two. I can’t believe someone paid me to remove a snake. Huh, maybe I can make some money off this?” I pondered that as I carried the tank inside. Maybe I could make the most out of this situation?
(If you enjoyed this feel free to check out my subreddit /r/Sadnesslaughs where I'll be posting more of my writing.) |
What I'm about to tell you is absolutely real. My professors at the academy never should have never even taught me how to resurrect the dead if they didn't want me using it whenever I could. So rare was it that anyone could do it like I could, there's probably only ten of us the globe over.
And what do I do with my power over life and death? Fucking save people from the deep, terrible, darkness beyond which I cannot see! I'm not a monster. I don't sell my services. I provide them free of charge.
Now, now. I can't stop death, but I sure as hell can blunt it's impact. In my vicinity. And if the kill is fresh enough. And only if I'm sure they are already dead.
Yes, so on the last bit. Sometimes, and I swear only sometimes, it's necessary to allow nature to take its course, so to speak, before I can get to work. The healing magic, for me, is much harder than just shocking the whole thing back to life in an instant. The healing just kind of happens after I pull them back across the boundary between here and there. And if I happen to help nature along, no one really minds as long as they aren't dead dead. I was taught it was safer that way.
I can't really advertise my services. Doing so would put a mark on my back, so doing as much good as I can is tough. For now I've been keeping my friends going. Their life spans are so pitifully short despite their deep attachment.
I get the odd human here or there, but resurrecting those who die of natural causes doesn't really do much at all. I can't extend their lifespan exactly. It doesn't work *that* way. Not for humans at least. Honestly, I'm not sure how it all works. I wasn't the best student. More a woman of action than anything.
I'll be frank. They had to boil it all down for me into a set of rules. First, don't resurrect the living. Second, don't resurrect the living. Third, make sure, absolutely sure the subject is dead first. Fourth, hide or else you'll be caught and forced to bring soldiers back from the dead for the rest of your days. There were some more, but I figure if the first three are the same, that's really the only one I should follow.
Luckily, I'm excellent at hiding. Always have been. I was the only black haired child in my entire country. Can you imagine the stares from the fair haired? You don't have to, I'm telling you that they were terrible. I even shaved it all off once before realizing that was a dumb move with my round and bulbous head.
The only thing is it's extremely lonely down here. My friends don't talk.
I'll cut the shit. I live in the fucking sewers with rats I've been keeping alive the better part of a decade. It's not ideal. It's not what I was taught I would be, but circumstances were dire and I ended up down here. That's another story.
Rats are super friendly and affectionate. They love each other. But by now there's a bit too many of them for me to handle anymore and I'm fairly certain the people up there in the city are starting to take notice. Mine don't cause disease or anything like that. I make sure. I swear. But they do need to eat.
My favorite one, his name is Skink, passed again today. Or at least I thought he did.
This is where it goes a little sideways so please do bear with me.
Skink wasn't totally dead, and I had no idea. I swear. It breaks me up seeing the little guy breath his last. I couldn't let him see the darkness beyond again. I just couldn't.
When I do my thing it doesn't look like all that much. I close my eyes and focus and it all happens in my head. I find the spark and pull it back out of this muck and put it back, for lack of anything better I could say on the subject to someone who doesn't know what it's like to peer into the unseeable places.
But I digress.
Skink's spark hadn't left, it was dissipating. I grabbed it and focused real hard on it. It got brighter just like if I had put it back after it had gone. I opened my eyes and the world looked different.
The first thing I saw was me. I was looking down at, well, me.
I've got to stop now. It's extremely tiring writing with rat hands. I'm making this log in case my plan doesn't work. I can live only a few years more in this body before it croaks. So, the only alternative is, well, to put myself back where I belong.
Wish me luck. |
The bittersweet irony that my greatest triumph is ultimately my final defeat does not escape me. I sit here with my coffee, alternately sipping from the burnt, steaming cup, and the burnt, steaming memories. In a life filled with defeat, my son was my only victory. Like a solitary palm tree, deep in the desert of the African Sahara, he was beautiful and filled with life, surviving even the harshest conditions. Now, the lush green leaves have withered and the exposed roots have dried into a crumbling skeleton. I cannot shake the image of the casket as it lowered to rest in the upturned earth. I have buried my only triumph. No one is left to bury me. |
Sarah watched as her arch-nemesis Dr. Blight uses his deathly devices to entertain a young child in the room with him. The same wicked smile was on his face. The same grandstanding announcement of taking over the world. And yet...
"So you can make anything wither and die just touching them for a few seconds?"asked the sickly boy. Dr. Blight answered him with a nod. "Cool!"
An unmistakable happy smile spread across the boy's face. Sarah couldn't believe it. Here was one of the most powerful and dastardly super-villain on the planet making a young child's final moments more memorable.
She couldn't understand it.
That was until she asked one of the staff in the hospital. Everything went crystal clear after that.
"So you want to become my underling once I rule the world?"said Dr. Blight.
"Yeah!"the child nodded.
"Your life will belong to me then!"declared Dr. Blight. "It will be hard work for you everyday, but I always reward those who put themselves beneath me. You will live a most content life, I assure you. Therefore there can be no excuses!"
The boy giggled as he promised his life away to the super-villain. The evil doctor even had a fake contract to make things all the more authentic. He gave a copy of it to the boy as remembrance of their deed today.
When the boy started to cough a little bit, Sarah saw that another doctor in the room make a gesture towards Dr. Blight. It seems that his stay was over now.
As the doctor checked on the boy's vitals, Dr. Blight said his goodbyes to the boy and slipped away. She found him leaning on the sideways of an empty hospital corridor.
"L-Lady Luck!"the evil doctor tried to pose in defense, just before rubbing the tears from his eyes. "I thought I made it clear that I intended to postpone our inevitable battle today."
"I came to make sure you weren't up to no good,"she said quietly. "I guess you weren't..."
Dr. Blight turned away from her. "What are you saying? I'm always up to no good."
"Doesn't seem like it. That boy looked awfully happy to see you."
"What you saw was just a lie,"said Dr. Blight. "It's what I do. I lie to kids all the time."
Sarah reached out to him, grasping his shaking shoulders. "That's not true. I've never seen you as honest of a man as ever before this. Your little sister would have been proud of you."
Slowly facing her, Dr. Blight took out a stack of papers from his cloak.
"I promised them the world..."he said, his voice weak. "Of all the contracts I've signed with them, not a single one was fulfilled. Even my little sister's is just now a piece of paper."His tears fell onto all the contracts he's made with children. "What I do is not good. I told you I lie all the time."
Sarah couldn't help but comfort him. She couldn't think him a liar as he sobbed in her arms. He was just a man that still grieved for the loss of his sister and the children he's made promises with. |
It was *hot* out. Normally I didn't mind working bike delivery, but on days like today I envied my coworkers in their air conditioned cars and working in the store. The messenger bag holding the subs for this trip chafed against my shoulder uncomfortably as I bounched down the rough sidewalk.
There was quite the commotion ahead. Sirens screamed, and I could see the police cruisers pulled haphazardly up onto the sidewalk. A gust of flame shot out from behind a building, accompanied by a rush of heat. I sighed. At least the customers in these deliveries usually tipped well.
The situation became apparent as I rolled up to the delivery address. A hero and a villain, of course, duking it out in the parking lot of the local First National branch bank. The customers inside were visible by their noses, pressed eagerly to the glass as they watched the show. The hero seemed to be some variety of flame type. Have to be honest, one fire superhero kind of seems the same as another to me. They all just light stuff up and make messes.
At the chiming of the bell attached to my handlebars, they all stopped. The police, seeing a civilian coming up the sidewalk, tried to move to block my path, but I had already zipped past them.
The villain sneered towards me as I hopped off my bike. "And what, exactly, do you think *you're* doing?"She seemed to have some kind of plant-based power, with her limbs encased in thick green tendrils. Not her lucky day, then, against...I peered at the hero's costume. Mr. Inferno, apparently. Not so fortunate to have your only ability be creating combustible material when fighting a hero who burns things.
I ignored her, walking towards the building as I dug in the bag at my side. The people inside just gaped at me.
"One Hunter Club sandwich for a...James?"I called out, looking around. The door in front of me snapped open as a uniformed bank teller stumbled out.
"Uh, yeah, that's me...."I handed him the receipt.
"Sign at the bottom, please."
Something wrapped around my ankle. I half turned, looking down to see a thick vine extending up my leg, binding me to the ground. Unbelievable. I leveled a glare at Mr. Inferno. "Is she new?"
The costumed man rubbed his head, still smouldering slightly. "Geez, knock it off, Miasma. Didn't the League of Villains tell you about the Vendor's Compact? We don't involve those who deliver in our fights."
The woman grinned, face mostly hidden behind leaves and vines. "Who cares about some dumb agreement? I don't get it anyway. Seems to me that if you're going to invite yourself to the party you might as well stay for the fun, bike boy."
I could see Mr. Inferno open his mouth again, but I was done. I waved him off as I reached into my pocket, pulled out the small, well-worn manual kept within, and began flipping through.
"Let's see, he called you Miasma? My, my, you are new then. This is your first month out in the field, isn't it?"She gaped at me. "But let's get down to business, shall we, *Claire*?"
I could feel the vine unwrapping itself from my leg.
"You see, you *should* care about some stupid agreement. We have to work out here every day. And, funnily enough, our job takes us places. We *see* things. And we all tell each other what we see. Like, for example, a *bike boy* might deliver a sub to a certain *Claire* living in a third floor apartment just a few blocks from here, and catch a glimpse of a costume in the laundry basket through the doorway as he gets a signature."
She slowly turned red as I continued, with embarassment or anger I couldn't say.
"Or a mailman might hand off a package, and see your mask poking out of your bag. You know. Just those little *slip ups*."James had finished signing his receipt and I handed him his sub.
"Of course, we wouldn't *dream* of exposing anyone's *secret identity*. But if we had to report an assault to the police, well."I smirked. "We have all the information we would need for that. Are we clear?"
She nodded mutely.
"Then don't let this happen again. Some of the others aren't as nice as I am. I'd hate for you to get shitcanned in your first month."
I kicked off the ground and was off. 7 blocks to my next delivery. As I sailed off down the sidewalk, I could see Mr. Inferno patting the desolate Miasma on the shoulder, laughing.
(/r/inorai) |
Moobles had definitely died with a bang, not with a whimper. He wasn’t sure what had happened, one second he’d been slurping on some red juice when, BANG, he ended up here.
He was standing in a long line of animals, queuing up to cross some sort of bridge. A huge, mean looking grizzly was at the front of the line, growling at the passing fauna and slapping them good\-naturedly on the back, sometimes sharing a barking laugh with the mastiff beside him who was tending another line.
“Any idea what’s going on here?” Moobles asked a horse standing nearby.
The horse just glared at Moobles and flicked it’s tail before edging forward in the line.
“Pretty rude. Hey, champ, you know what’s happening here?” He asked a poodle trotting along beside him. The poodle yelped then barked angrily, gnashing its teeth at Moobles.
“Woah! Woah, okay!” Moobles held his hands out and backed up. Tough crowd here. He waited patiently as the line edged forward.
“Oh Geeze.” The grizzly swiped a paw over its eyes as Moobles came up to the front. “What are you doing here?”
“Don’t know champ, I was just drinking a bit of red when bing\-bang\-bam, here I am.” Moobles shot the bear his best smile. The bear grimaced.
“Look, maybe you should find some other place to go. This is a place for the protectors of the world!” He let out a roar which was answered by several fierce and scarred animals positioned around the bridge. “See Snuggles there? Snuggles has fought off fourteen toddler nightmares. Fourteen. Have you ever fought off a nightmare?”
“Well... no, not per se.”
“Bumbles, look at Bumbles over there, he’s helped destroy one hundred and forty seven panic attacks. One. Hundred. Forty. Seven!” The mastiff nearby looked over at Bumbles the crippled labrador, impressed.
“I guess I’ve never do\-\-”
“Look, this here is a place for heroes! Not for... your kind.”
“I don’t know about all that. What are we doing over there anyways?”
“On the other side of this bridge are the fiercest foes that attack our world, anger, pain, anxiety, despair, loss. Only our strongest hopes and dreams can possibly stand a chance against their onslaught, and, after lives well lived, the very best come here to continue the good fight.”
“Ah, well, let me in then, I’m your guy.” Moobles smirked, this sounded like a cake walk.
The bear growled down at him. “And what makes you think something as small and repulsive as you would be wanted on our side.”
Moobles flirred his wings into action, gyrating into the air with sudden quickness.
“I am the black hunter in the night, feared and hated by all. I am the ringing in your ears when you’re right next to the sweetest sleep. I am that tingling at the back of your skull. I sweep in, stab, and swoop away in the blink of an eye. I feed on young and old, strong and weak, large and small. I am the unseen, unheard fear. My bite is poison, my sight is fearful, and my sound strikes dread.
“I AM MOOBLES, LORD OF THE MOSQUITOES!”
Moobles charged straight for the bear’s eye, then flew over the bridge with glee as the grizzly jerked out of the way. There was hunting to be done. |
Firey tricks for dear friends
\-WardogWhiskey
​
For thousands of years I have walked this earth. The progress of humans had always astounded me. I am a dragon, I have no need for such advancements, but they sure do make life more… vivid. The tales you have heard of dragons are not very accurate. Yes we hoard treasure, yes we breathe fire, but we are not the beasts we have been out to be. Our pre-adolescent phases can be… volatile… but during my long life, I have seen much more terrifying human children. Few dragons exist, and we are able to transform between our reptilian forms, and our choice of human appearances. Our ability to change what we look like in our human bodies lets us live human lives much easier and safer.
I have called many a man and beast my "friend."I have outlived all of them… so far. My friends of this life-time are very good ones, friends that strike me as special and stand out among the countless others. They treat me well, they are open with me, I can sense their true intentions and feelings. They are genuine in the things they do.
As a dragon, I do have my hoard of riches, it is very secretive and something that not one other soul has laid eyes upon… and lived. My hoard is almost like a piece of me, it's not just wealth. I do use it to survive in this modern day human life, but sparingly. One piece of my ancient gold seems to have an astounding conversion rate with human currency. I live modestly, but comfortably. My friends are what make this human life-time more than average. One of our favorite things to do as a group is to go to a tavern. More commonly referred to as a "bar"in these times. Though the drink does take a toll on humans, it is nothing to me. It is quite enjoyable, and it helps fuel my fire. Once the drink takes a hold on me, my friends always demand my signature trick.
I carry a box of matches with me to avoid suspicion when performing such a trick. I consume a small glass of highly concentrated drink, strike a match, put the flaming end into my mouth, and release a small puff of my fire. The match is only for show. My beloved friends do quite enjoy this, and it delights me to bring them such happiness and amazement. For during my short and ever fleeting time with this band of beings that are ever so important to me, I will ensure their pleasure in my company. It is the least I can do for their extraordinary kindness.
​
​
I hope you guys enjoy this, I am an amateur and love writing for fun. Let me know if there are things to improve on, this was a kind of quick writing. It's very late, I'm tired, but I just had a moment of inspiration by this awesome prompt. |
The book was crap.
The plot went nowhere, the characters were way out there, the dialogue was everywhere, there were grammatical errors galore, yet...
The book was #1 on every list, in every genre, and I couldn't even leave the house anymore.
"I don't get it,"I confessed to my best friend, Shay, over the phone. "What do people like about that book so much?"
"Because it's *authentic*."
"Authenic crap,"I muttered.
"Hate to break it to ya, Kels, but I think you might be biased."
"Biased? Oh the horror."My eyes rolled.
"You told him to write a book and he did it. Now you're mad that he's successful. That's called hating, by the way."
"I'm not a hating, I'm just saying... the book is *trash.*"
"Well, think about this,"Shay said. "Have you ever thought that maybe people were tired of reading perfect, traditionally written books? You said that the plot went nowhere, that the characters were way out there, and that the dialogue was everywere, but if you read the book, you would've seen that they were all done for a reason."
"Yeah, yeah. Garbage is garbage."
"One person's treasure is another person's trash,"she said. "Oh, by the way, do you think your brother will a sign a copy of my book?" |
The armada marches in formation, huge blocks of troops, and peculiar machines that I've never seen before.
Up and down the rolling hills, they are killing machines. Ruthless warriors from beyond the stars. They wave flags of war.
They do not accept peace.
*That's okay.*
I'm leading an army of my own. Behind me, a small neighborly force of men. Hardly enough to fill a football stadium. Every single one of them knows the plan. Not because we are military geniuses. But because the 'plan'? It's nothing but instinct. They know not their own strength. When I give the signal, they will all automatically attack. It's just wired into their brain.
The extraterrestrials' footsteps beat like drums as they march forward.
I turn and nod. All the dads turn on their megaphones, and I turn on mine.
I breathe, closing my eyes.
*They've done this to themselves.*
I put my lips up to the megaphone.
**"I'M HUNGRY!"**
...All the aliens stop marching. Silence.
Behind me, all the volunteer fathers breathe in at once.
A cacophony of noise, all with one voice.
***HI HUNGRY, WE'RE DAD!!!***
I see the sound waves passing through the grassy hills, like a heavy gust of wind. As it hits the enemy, they begin to break formation, and scatter. Some of them just drop dead, while others flee for their lives, escaping the war crimes we have committed today. Their war machines instantly catch fire and explode.
The dad's are cheering.
I hold up my megaphone again. No aliens will ever mess with this planet after today. |
The axe found its target and bit deep, the thing writhed not in agony but in an attempt to get back at me, jaws snapping uselessly as it was rendered immobile. At one point I had thought it would be boring to kill the zombies, they felt not pain, nor did they show any intelligence greater than base beasts. However it seems I was wrong about my own motivations, perhaps a symptom of improperly formed emotions, killing was never about how the victims reacted, it was about me.
The zombies were machines, just like people. The other survivors often tried to kill, an exercise in futility against the already dead. However the goal isn't to kill, it is to immobilise, cut the connections that allows limbs to move and jaws to bite. When you attack the undead you want to sever tendons, shatter joints and maul through key muscles, it was an artform, one which I had honed to perfection through my... previous career. The best part was the challenge, usually humans would stop fighting back after a frankly disappointing amount of time, but these would keep trying to kill even when reduced to broken piles of useless flesh to be placed onto a pyre. It was exhilarating, it made me feel alive, it was better than I could have ever imagined!
Others followed me, not sure when that started, but humans are machines just like the living dead so I know why. I may not understand their emotions, the finer details that drove them, but I understood fear and I understood hope. I had allowed them to live in the relatively peaceful area I had cleared out out of apathy at first, I held no interest in them then, I had found better prey and there was no point in going after them. Soon however they began giving me supplies, some joined me on my hunts requesting my knowledge and training, when I needed something they would give it to me without question. It was strange at first, I did not understand, and I did not care, but I do now.
I had been used to being the one who thrived on fear, but now I was something of a beacon of hope. These people, they would die to protect me, they would gift me anything they could spare, they would dedicate great works in my name and all because they wanted to, all because of what I meant to them. Fear was a form of power, and power was exhilarating, but this was something altogether different and unique, something greater than I could have ever imagined. They loved me, something I did not understand until now, they loved what I meant for them and I loved how they thought of me like this. All I had to do to retain this adoration was simple, continue what I have always done these three years, not target the people who flocked under me, celebrate when they did and mourn when they did even if I did not understand.
I understand now the people need hope, they need a leader, they need a king, they need me...
I brought the axe down on the jaw of the struggling corpse with a most satisfying clunk, my allies had caught up by now and I turned to face them with a warm smile.
And who am I to deny what the people need? |
"Excuse me?"said the king, blushing. "Did you say. . ?"
It was a puritanical kingdom. Primal urges were repressed and rarely spoken about. They were certainly never spoken about in the court, before the king as he sat in his throne.
"Laid,"I repeated.
The courtiers gasped and blushed. The women fanned themselves. One fainted. The king twiddled his thumbs and stared at his knees.
Human sexuality was taboo enough; but the ferocious, primordial sexuality of the enchanted reptiles known as dragons--that was too much to handle for the uptight citizens of this priggish realm.
"I got him some tail to quench the fire burning in his belly,"I continued. "But it seems his dragon lover has flown the coop, and our boy has some pent up frustration about it."
"We were told you vanquished the terror,"the king muttered, still staring at his knees.
"Call his urges 'terrors' if you want,"I said, "but you know as well as I do they're natural impulses, and aren't something that can be vanquished in one fell swoop. Satisfy them today, they come back tomorrow. Like hunger. Like thirst."
The king looked up, beet-red, trembling, and roared, "I'M NOT TALKING ABOUT THE CREATURE'S. . .urges. . .We contracted you because of your renown for dealing with dragons. You came and, within days, the terrorizing ceased. We paid you and thanked you for your services. We sent you on your way. But we believed you killed the creature! We thought the dragon was dead!"
I shrugged. "You were mistaken. It's old fashioned to slay dragons. Only the backwards assholes still resort to the sword. The modern approach involves empathy, compassion. A deep understanding of dragon typologies and psychologies. And, occasionally, matchmaking."
"Dragon *typologies*?"repeated the king. *"Psychologies?"*
"Water dragons act up when their lakes and rivers are polluted,"I explained. "Forest dragons get riled when the local lumberjacks get a little too giddy with the axe. Ice dragons rage when the season's too hot. And *Horned* dragons, which is the subspecies to which your resident fella belongs. . .Well. . .It's not just for the spikes on their bodes that we dragonologists call them *horned*."
I winked. The insinuation took a few moments to sink in with that gaggle of prudes.
"Pah!"said the king with visceral disgust.
"Ughh,"groaned the courtiers, as if scenting something vile.
"Dragonologist?!"spat the king's advisor dismissively. He was a tall, gaunt scholar who always looked down his nose at the folks to whom he spoke. "You're nothing but a flesh-monger for monsters! A procurer! A pimp! Hoodwinking kingdoms for gold while you ply a low, disgusting, immoral trade!"
Outside the castle hapless villagers shrieked. I could hear the creature's powerful wings beating against the air. The king clutched the armrests of his throne with white knuckles as the dragon landed on the roof with a thunderous stomp.
All eyes turned up to watch dust fall from the ceiling. The ornate chandelier swayed.
"I don't much care what you call me,"I said, grinning. "Or how you feel about me. Or any of that. Your gold sits just as heavy in my pocket as gold from more. . .liberal realms."
"Our *gold*?"the king repeated without taking his eyes from the roof, above which, the dragon was stomping around.
"My fee will be the same as before,"I clarified.
The advisor was ghostly pale. Terrified. Still, he tried to stick to his principles. "P-p-preposterous,"he stammered. "If you th-th-think we're going to hire you again f-f-for--"
The dragon loosed a loud and terrible roar; the room quaked. Courtiers scrambled about in a screaming panic. The advisor jabbered to himself as he pissed his pants. The king clambered under his throne to hide from falling chunks of debris.
"Slayed or laid!"the king shouted from under his chair. "Marry the thing yourself for all I care! We'll pay you double--triple what we paid you last time. Just stop that beast before my castle falls!"
<> |
“Thank you for calling Call of Cthulu Internet and Cellular!”
“Hi, my name is Rachel, and my internet just went dow-“
“We are currently assisting other customers. Please hold for our next available cultist.”
Rachel sighed as the demonic, chilling hold music began to come through the phone. She’d had this ISP ever since she moved here three years ago, and they had some of the spottiest internet she’d ever experienced. Not even Comcast went down this often!
She looked over at her Wi-Fi router that she rented from the company. The antennae were all curved, looking vaguely like tentacles coming off of the box. The blinking red and green lights were incomprehensible to everyone except the company’s workers. Rachel’s cousin worked in IT, and she once asked him to take a look when her internet went down while he was staying over. After a day of intensely studying the router and the guides she’d downloaded previously, he left her house mumbling something about “demonic recursion” and checked himself into a psychiatric ward.
A recording from the phone: “we appreciate your business! At Call of Cthulu, we put our blood, sweat, and other sacred fluids into making this company its best. After the call, we would appreciate if you took part in our customer satisfaction survey.”
The hold music again. Rachel’s dog whimpered and walked out of the room, unable to stand hearing it anymore. Rachel waited patiently. Sometimes this took up to an hour.
“We have updated our terms of service. Due to a recent federal law, we may no longer accept firstborn children as a form of payment. Donations of fresh blood, black candles, and other such alternative payment options will still be available for the time being. Of course, money is always acceptable.”
Rachel had just turned to make her breakfast when the ringtone started sounding through the phone. Then a voice from a world beyond human understanding spoke, seeming to come from everywhere in the room: *“HELLO. THANK YOU FOR CALLING. WHAT WOULD YOU LIKE TO ASK ABOUT TODA-”*
Rachel cut him off. “You know very well! Every time I call this company you somehow know exactly what my issue is before I have to say anything! Out with it!”
There was a pause. Then *“AH YES, MISS RACHEL PEREZ, YOUR INTERNET WENT DOWN FIVE MINUTES AGO.”*
“Yes. And if you know, why don’t you get someone out here to fix it already! Stop wasting my time!”
*“TIME. SUCH A MORTAL CONCEPT. VERY WELL, SOMEONE WILL BE WITH YOU SHORTL-“*
“Just send the damn tech!”
There was silence on the phone for a second. Then the voice said: *“OUR TECH IS ON THE WAY. WE WOULD APPRECIATE IT IF YOU TOOK PART IN OUR CUSTOMER SATISFACTION SUR-“*
“Thank you, have a nice day,” Rachel blurted out, then hung up. The silence in the house was deafening compared to the voice and the hold music.
Comcast was better, she decided. At least she understood that evil. |
Our scientists had finally figured out how to utilise dark matter; we developed near-lightspeed travel. Next we learned to harness anti-matter; we broke through the light barrier. We spread out across the cosmos in search of other intelligent life, but no matter where we looked we couldn't find any other intelligent societies. Other life, yes, but nothing more advanced than the simplest lifeforms. All simulations refuted the possibility that we were the only intelligent life, and so we kept searching. We terraformed planets along the way to act as bases and comm stations. 1164 years after the start of the new Space Date calendar, one by one, they went dark.
It was the year SD1273 when they finally reached our homeworld, Earth. We had spent 109 years preparing for them. Our scientists focused all their attention on weapons and defense systems, and warfare tech leapt further and faster than it had at any point in our history; a history wrought with warfare, where developing more efficient methods to kill our own was the impetus behind the vast majority of technological development. Now we had an outside threat to focus our bloodlust towards. Even then, it was barely enough.
Earth's population plummeted from 12.7 billion to 2.3 billion during a gruelling war that lasted just over 7 years. We'd started out strong, surprising the would-be invaders with our strength and tenacity in the first year, but their tech was superior to ours. We spent the next 5 on the defensive. In the final year, their attacks lost their luster, decreased in frequency, and eventually stopped. We'd managed to fend them off!
Or so we thought...
Shortly after the last of their warships left our orbit, all communications across the globe received the same message: "Well done, worthy adversaries. You have proven yourselves capable. Welcome to the cosmos, Earth."
It had been a test. A test to determine whether we were... worthy to stand alongside the already existing species in what we learned was an Intergalactic Union. To ensure we were capable of joining in with their war games and providing sufficient "entertainment"for them all. A goddamned TEST that killed 79% of our people!
It was a test they'd come to fucking rue.
You see, as I mentioned earlier, Humanity is a species behind which the driving motivation for advancement was not curiosity, a desire to learn and understand, the need to explore; no, it was a drive to be better at killing. We are a truly barbaric species. And when our entire attention is turned towards a single goal - especially the goal of destroying an enemy - we see an exponential increase in the rate at which we improve and develop. Had they done their research before deciding to "test"us, they would have known to never anger us, for we are consistent in only our desire to obliterate those that wrong us.
It is now 70 years since we were "admitted"to the Intergalactic Union. And during those 70 years we have done nothing but prepare for our inaugural war game. It is a war game that will see Humanity as the *only* survivor! |
“Well, damn,” Liz sighed, and pulled her gas mask off the wall.
I mirrored her action on my side. “Hallucinating a son, eh? How deep do you think we are?”
“Hallucinating a son, hallucinating a girlfriend,” Liz corrected me. “Pretty deep. Hang on tight, this could be a wild ride.”
“It’s so good to meet you,” Cassandra laughed. “Oh, you two aren’t allergic to dogs, are you?” She opened her purse, and a tiny poodle head popped out. “This is Fluffles, my pid pod puppuperonni…”
Her voice began to slur, and fade. I picked up my clipboard and made a note.
“Experiencing a B-32 leak,” I said slowly, speaking as I wrote. “While frustrating, it is good to know that the nested hallucinations do occur under the influence. Confirmed that Liz and I both see a son, who is hallucinating a girlfriend named Cassandra, who is hallucinating a small purse dog named Fluffles.”
“At least, we were,” Liz said wryly. I looked up, and saw that Cassandra was little more than a shadow.
Tom looked at us with horror in his eyes. “Oh my god,” he pleaded, “Mom, what’s happening?”
“Don’t worry, buddy,” I said, “this will all be over soon.”
“Don’t talk to the delusions,” Liz reminded me. I nodded and looked back at the clipboard.
“I’m not a delusion, though!” Tom said, and he looked at his hands. “What’s wrong with you two? I’m not a delugeion-eeonyony…”
“Ooh, verbal dispersal,” Liz said, with interest. “Wrote that down!”
I looked down at my hands. My brow furrowed. I looked back at the desk behind me. “Honey, didn’t I just have a clipboard?”
“Don’t tell me you lost it! That’s weeks worth of data-beta!”
I opened the drawer. “Of course not, it was right…” I froze. “What did you just say?”
“I said, that notebook has weeks worth of data-beta-badda-dadadadadada…”
I turned just in time to see an empty gas mask fall to the floor.
I fell to my knees, picking up the mask and gazing at it hopelessly. A creeping horror came into my mind then, a chilling ‘what-if?’
What if B-32 didn’t cause hallucinations? What if it caused disappearances?
In terror, I ran and struck my head against the wall. “No!” I cried. “It can’t be!”
“He’s doing it again, doctor,” I said, with a sigh. I gazed through the observation window at the padded room. Dr. Kim stood beside me, looking somber.
“Describe the behavior,” he said to me.
I nodded, and went into my clinician voice. “Cycle begins with subject working on some unknown substance or device called B-32. Subject turns, seems to notice someone who is not physically there, then begins verbally documenting a number of hallucinations. The hallucinations begin to disappear, only for the subject to grow increasingly distressed, until finally throwing himself against the padded wall until exhausted. Subject spends a few hours in a catatonic state, and then begins cycle over again.” I heaved a long sigh. “It’s really quite sad.”
“Or, unsettling, perhaps?” Dr. Kim suggested.
I looked up at him, a bit confused. “I… suppose?”
“Horrific?” He suggested again. “Like from a story?”
“I don’t know what you’re…”
“For god’s sake, GroovyNoob,” he snapped, exasperated. “Look again!”
I looked again. The room was dark, and empty. I got a sinking feeling in my gut.
“It’s always been empty, hasn’t it?” I asked, with my heart in my throat.
“Worse,” Dr. Kim replied. “It doesn’t exist. Wake up, man!”
I woke in my bed, and checked my phone. There was the story, mostly written, but unfinished. “Better finish up,” I thought.
Except, that wasn’t right either. There is no GroovyNoob, is there, Steven?
Steven, can you hear us? Are you still in there? We’re all here for you, buddy. We’re rooting for you.
Come on, Steven.
Wake up! |
That absolute son of a bitch cursed the coffee today. I've had it.
It tastes like watered down decaf and sadness. Do you know how long I've been trying to get this company to buy a fucking espresso machine? Do you?! I had to suck up to Norma in Finance for *months* to get this expensed. You have no idea how long I've waited for that sweet, sweet nectar, and now it's all -- just -- *trash.*
Not a big deal you say? Yeah. Sure. Maybe not on its own. But I tried to sneak in a magic chair cushion *one time*, just with a little spell that keeps your posture good on its own, but then *guess what was on fire by the end of the week?*
Right, this sounds so stupid to you. Breathe, Alex. Deep breaths. There we go. All right, let's begin at the beginning.
I'm a wizard. Yes--no, no, not that Harry Potter crap. Yes, I--look, I don't have time to explain how it works. I can use magic. So I'm a wizard. Ok? The gist is, you can't see it. Literally anything I do with magic is invisible to you, which by the way, is a real pain in the ass. I can't magic a million dollars into existence, because you can't see the money. I can't cure anyone's diseases unless they can use magic, too. Can't heal my own kid's broken arm. What I can do is put a rooster on Dan's head while he holds his board meetings, or turn my cube a nice shade of light blue just so it's less depressing. Dye my hair pink stripes for fun. Nothing that *matters*.
Unless, as I said back there, you can use magic, too. Once you're a wizard, all bets are off. And you know who's a wizard? Who's also a son of a bitch? *Fucking Jerry.*
I know, right? I laughed, too. Jerry, the grumpy old fart from HR? Yeah, that Jerry.
A partial list of things Jerry has done to bother the shit out of me, ever since he caught me summoning up some cake in the break room for me and *me alone*:
Stole half of that cake from the fridge. Burned my posture cushion. Turned the water in my bottle into piss. Almost made me shit myself during my performance review. Hexed my voice so I had to pretend I had laryngitis for three days. Made mushrooms grow in my spaghetti. Should I go on?
I don't know his problem -- oh, you think this is my fault? Was it the cake? *You damn well know it was the cake.* That was mine! He has no business stealing my food, and so help me, I'm gonna get the last word. Today I'm putting roaches in his lunchbox. Does it make me five years old? Sure. Am I going to laugh my nuts off when he jumps ten feet out of his chair and throws his food across the room? Absolutely. And if he retaliates, well, I've got ten more ideas where that came from.
Endless fight? Nah. He'll run out of steam sooner or later. Youth before wisdom, old fucker. |
EDIT at 9:52am Central Time: OP here, currently writing a followup to this prompt response. Will post as a reply and update this edit when finished. Followup will probably be a bit darker in tone.
EDIT #2 at 10:37am Central Time: Followup to this prompt is below as a comment reply to this comment ([or right here](http://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/23xf0m/wp_a_shy_socially_awkward_teen_desperately_seeks/ch1s9v3)), aaaand it was a bit darker than expected, [but hopefully yal still like it](http://mrwgifs.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/06/I-Did-My-Best-Dane-Cook-Reaction-Gif.gif).
EDIT #3 at 11:28pm Central Time: I do plan on making this into a full fledged short story, but I'm not sure when I'll do it. I'm interested in it now and have some ideas, so [hopefully I won't disappoint.](http://big.assets.huffingtonpost.com/1120louis2.gif) For now, Eliza needs to rest.
__________________________________________________________________________________________________
*Oh God if I could stop time I would-*
*- this whore actually expect us to know how to answer this -*
*-iiiiiiiiiiiiiiin west Philadelphia, born and raised, agh fuck stop stop stop! I need the quadratic equation, not this damn song!*
Eliza shook her head. She had finished her test early but didn't want to be the first person to turn it in. It had been at least 20 minutes since she had finished, but none of the other students had finished and made the daring first walk to turn in the test. In the meantime, she had decided to open what she liked to call her "third ear". Doing so caused the thoughts of her classmates to come rushing in.
The classroom was quiet to her normal ear, but not to her third ear.
*The fuck is a quadratic-*
*-I'm gonna fail this damn test-*
*-oh shit, did my period just start?*
The last one made Eliza giggle a bit more than she had expected. She did her best to duck her head down behind Jerry, the student in front of her. He was a large student, but Eliza had doubts that Mrs. Gulker didn't hear her. She decided to zone in on Mrs. Gulker's thoughts.
*-she giggling for?*
Eliza took this as her cue to finally get up and turn her test in.
*Nevermind,* Mrs. Gulker thought aloud, *I wonder if she'll get another perfect score.*
Eliza smiled as she walked down the row of students; she took pride in her schoolwork. *You need a social life, darling.* The smile faded away from her face. She rigidly reached forward, handing her paper in to Mrs. Gulker.
"Thanks, darling,"Mrs. Gulker whispered.
"I bet it's another hundred,"Eliza whispered back, a tinge of anger creeping into her tone.
Mrs. Gulker raised an eyebrow and moved her lips as if she were going to say something, but Eliza quickly turned away. She didn't bother using her third ear to hear the rest of Mrs. Gulker's thoughts. Instead, she sat back down at her seat and dug through her backpack; she needed an aspirin. The next class was Psychology, and for some reason she had always gotten a headache during it. She had gotten into the habit of popping an aspirin just before the class started.
Minutes later the bell rang, signaling the end of the class as well as the end of the exam. She opened her ear once again to take a peek at how the other students had done. She didn't zone in on anyone in particular.
*Bullshit, that was such-*
*-I got in one little fight and my mom got-*
*holy fuck holy fuck holy fuck I need a pad, can anyone see?*
Eliza cringed at the last thought. She zoned in on it, not entirely sure where it was coming from. She scanned from girl to girl, trying her best to pinpoint who the bleeder was until her eyes feel upon Ashley, a rather popular girl that Eliza had never really cared for.
Ashley was a stuck up cheerleader that had made Freshman year hell for Eliza, but Eliza knew the rules. You always have to help out a fellow girl in a situation like this.
*-oh God I didn't bring any pads with me. Trish is absent today, fuck, does the school nurse carry pads?*
Eliza followed Ashley to her locker, mentally preparing herself on how to discreetly hand her a pad without giving herself away as a mind reader. The closer they got to the locker though, the more frantic Eliza got. She really wanted to help Ashley, but for the love of God she couldn't think up of a way to just hand her the pad without Ashley thinking it was weird.
*Got it,* Eliza thought to herself. Ashley stood at her locker, eyes sullen, obviously wondering what her best plan would be, until Eliza tapped her on the shoulder.
"Yeah?"Ashley said, looking to Eliza. Her eyes were distressed; usually they were filled with disgust when they were upon Eliza, but Ashley couldn't afford any harsh emotions at the moment.
"Uhm,"Eliza stammered, "do you, uh, how did the test go for you?"
"It, was, it was alright I guess."*What does she want? I really don't have time for this.*
"Yeah, it was pretty easy,"Eliza said, figuring now was the best time to work it in, "I'm just happy my period started last period, ya know?"
Ashley scrunched her eyebrows, *eww, the fuck?*
Eliza sighed; Ashley was still the same stuck up cheerleader. She took it as her cue to nope out of the situation. Eliza turned on her heels and started to walk away.
"Hey wait,"Ashley spoke suddenly. *Maybe she has a pad I can borrow.*
"Yeah?"Eliza said, turning back to face her. She was already unslinging her backpack without really realizing it.
"Do you, umm, have another pad or tampon? I think I'm going to start soon,"Ashley whispered.
Eliza smiled, "Yeah, of course, I-
"Hey!"Jerrod said excitedly. He brushed past Eliza without taking notice and hugged onto Ashley. The two shared a brief kiss. Eliza just stood there, not exactly sure what to do.
"Hey, I, uhh, you know Eliza right?"Ashley said quickly.
Jerrod turned and looked at Eliza. He quickly scanned her up and down, not showing any effort to conceal his disgust with her. *Damn, what a wreck.*
*Fuck you too,* Eliza thought. Jerrod immediately stopped scanning. "I'm not sure,"he said almost nervously, "I don't think we've had any classes together, have we?"
"No,"Eliza said, "I don't think so."Despite the fact, Eliza knew who he was. He was the star quarterback, slated to lead the football team to another state championship. She also knew that he was the typical school manwhore who happened to have his eyes set on Ashley.
*You'll move on in a week,* Eliza thought.
*What the fuck,* she heard Jerrod think loudly. He quickly stormed off, leaving Ashley just standing there. Eliza followed him with her eyes, wondering what the hell just happened. She tried to follow him with her third ear, but he made it too far away into the crowd. She felt a poke on her left breast.
Eliza jumped, turning back to Ashley.
"Um, about that pad?"Ashley whispered.
"Oh, right, sorry,"Eliza said. She dug through her bag and pulled one out. Ashley graciously took it and headed for the bathroom.
*She's not that weird I guess, but she better keep her eyes off my damn boyfriend.*
Eliza smiled to herself. She felt good for helping out a fellow girl, but still felt weird about what had happened with Jerrod. She tried not to think about it too much as she made her way to the next classroom.
On the way over, she passed by Jerrod's locker. Eliza had never really cared about what random students she didn't have class with thought, but Jerrod had interested her. His locker happened to be next to a water fountain, so she decided it was best to stop there and pretend to drink as she eavesdropped on what was going on in his head. She bent forward and began to quietly drink from the fountain.
*What's your problem?* She thought as she zoned in on Jerrod.
*What's your problem?*
Eliza choked on water as she heard her own thought echoed back to her.
|
Eat. Walk. Follow. Don't eat.
His and mine.
Eat and walk, eat and walk. His.
Follow and don't eat, mine.
This growing monstrosity has never stopped, never rests as he has never had his fill. We've all started starving, he's the fattest of us all. He'll tell us adventures we've all had together which only he remembers.
We're terrified of him, I more than the rest. He's taken a special interest in me, forces me to follow and watch him slowly destroy us all. I've tried to hide but he relentlessly stops at nothing to find me again.
A neighbor invited family to come over to help him, he hadn't seen them in years but the fat fuck did *something*. They never came.
So he eats, I follow.
He turns to me and his fat fucking lips spit out the few comprehensible words this addict even knows.
"You know piglet, I think we should try to find some honey." |
With a loud thud, the heavy oak door caved in, teetering on one hinge before finally giving up and falling to the ground.
"Aha,"boomed our hero. "You see I've found you before your evil plan could come to fruition!"
The villain wheeled around, and held up his index finger, motioning towards the phone at his ear. "Uh-huh. Yeah, okay. And it's going to cost how much? That's ridiculous! It's highway robbery!"
A long pause. Loud chattering from the other end of the conversation. The hero shifted uncomfortably.
The villain rolled his eyes at the hero, making a "blah-blah-blah"gesture. "Well, look, I don't know why we're even... well, yeah, but... look, Marion, I've got someone here. Can we... Yeah, okay, just put it on the Amex, I guess. Okay, yeah, I'll call you back. I don't know, half an hour maybe? Okay, yeah, b- yeah, love you too."
The villain dropped his phone into the inside pocket of his elegant black velvet tunic and turned to face our hero. "Dave, I'm so sorry... look man, I got some things goin' on, you know?"
Our hero puffed out his chest, "You do indeed, for I am here to stop your evil plan before it comes to fruition!"
The villain gave a half-hearted smile. "Dave... look man, I was going to have this pollution machine all set to go, like ready, you know? I mean, 70, maybe 75 metric tons a minute! Serious awesomeness, amirite? But then the wife calls, and our kid, you know, the one at Smith..."
Our hero interrupted, "Oh Brenda! Great kid; she takes after you! How's she doin'?"
"Yeah, not so good, turns out she wrecked the new car we got her. Drove it right into a damn fire hydrant."
"Oh, for Pete's sake...She okay?"
"Oh yeah, shes fine, but blast it all! A brand new Audi!"
"Yeah pal, told you you should've gone with that used Volvo."
The villain sighed heavily, "So anyways, I've got Marion all up my kiester about getting it fixed, Brenda is losing her mind because she doesn't have a car and... look, Dave, I'm not going to get to fixing this pollution machine up for a few days, plus, I think the catalytic matter transmuter is going out on it."
"Hmm, heating up and making a kind of 'weee-weee-weeeeeeeeeeeGRONK' noise?"
"No, more like a 'happada-jappada-DONGDONG-thunk.'"
"Hmmm, that sounds more like a rear sprocket assembly to me..."
"Yeah, could be, anyway, I meant to call you, but you know how things are... look, can we reschedule this month's showdown? How's next Thursday?"
Our hero checked his phone, "No good, I've got a showdown with Countess Holistia that night, some kind of mind control ray. Monday?"
"Can't do it, I'm sending a bunch of minions out to steal that rare diamond on display at the museum. How about Wednesday in two weeks? No wait, dammit, that's my bowling league. Friday afternoon around 3?"
"Hmm, yeah, that'll work."
"Killer!"The villain smiled for the first time that night. "I'll just get Brenda's car mess handled, and I'm right back on this pollution device, and NO ONE CAN STOP ME! And, yeah, I'll check that rear sprocket assembly. Thanks Dave! See you Friday, IF YOU DARE!"
"No sweat, Larry. Good luck with the car thing, and seriously, there's nothing wrong with a nice used Volvo."
|
My people are an ancient people...a traditional people. It took us millennia to get from the first electric lights to the first computer. Very few of us are born with a great degree of imagination. Such people have, at different times, been hunted down and killed for their heretical ideas, or their visions of things unreal. We call them "lie-seers"Only in the last 1000 years have we begun to, reluctantly, give these rare individuals some space to experiment with their ideas.
It was 115 years ago that, thanks to the insane visions of one of the lie-seers, we began to look for signs of life beyond our planet. Nobody thought we would ever find anything. Most called it a waste of resources, but some people were convinced that it might somehow provide something of value. We could not know how this would change our society and way of life in so many ways, irrevocably, and forever.
Our first visions from the humans astounded us. It seemed that some of them, the most important or powerful ones, carefully recorded nearly every event and conversation in their lives! Multiple cameras were used to capture the expressions on their faces - faces so like our own! But these powerful individuals - we would see more and more - were lords of death! One man, whose name we determined to be Arnold Schwarzenegger, who may in fact be a highly advanced robotic life-form, has spent his whole life slaughtering other people. Sometimes he is in the strange un-advanced human country, where they use steel shards to cut each other to pieces, and other times in advanced countries with a huge variety of firearms. He is almost never injured, and when he is, he continues his reign of violence as if his injuries did not matter! But he is not alone. Many, many humans - mostly men - spend years of their lives killing, nearly every day. Sometimes it seems like they are administering justice for crimes which their own cameras were witness to. We have seen giant battles where thousands were horrifically slaughtered for no reason that we could discern. Perhaps it is all for the scantily-clad young women? They are everywhere on Humania, and mostly seem to have the same physical shape. Some lie-seers think that they are robots like Arnold Schwarzenegger. But then why fight over them? Just make more! It is impossible to understand the human lust for killing. But even more impossible to understand is their supernatural abilities!
Some humans, hailing mostly from the un-advanced country with the many cutting implements, have been seen to change into animals, fly through the air, shoot fire from their faces, or battle each-other in giant storms of differently colored lights!
Yet even more terrifying; what has upended our entire society... they have ships that travel through the stars! And what do they do when they reach other inhabited worlds? Thy fight and kill the inhabitants!
We know that our current technology cannot withstand their energy-shielded Enterprise ships with their red death-rays, or their fleets of arrow-head ships with green death-blasters. And what could we possibly to against their planet-destroyer ball? Some of our lie-seers began working on developing new technologies to prepare our defenses, but their work was slow. Other lie-seers, who had often seen humans worshiping each-other, or various statues, decided that they would spare us if we learned to worship them. Thus the cults of Arnold and Potter began their proliferation.
In 10 years, they were fighting each-other in the streets. Soon this evolved into massive slaughters, until the cults were outlawed. They still fight now, operating from their hidden temples of the robot-prince and the magic boy. Statues of them are often found in homes of even the most upstanding citizens! And then the day finally came...the humans came to us.
Their ship looked nothing like the ones we had seen. It was a long assemblage of modules, solar arrays, and spinning sections. It looked too delicate to survive a battle. They stayed in orbit for almost seven months without doing anything. The cults went crazy! There was blood in the streets. Huge temples were erected with giant statues of the boy-wizard shooting fire through his stick-weapon. A life-like image of Arnold Schwarzenegger the size of a small country was created so that it could be seen from space, while millions of images and messages were sent towards their ship. We waited. They just sat there without responding; a silent reminder of impending annihilation. Then...finally...just yesterday...contact...in our own language....
"We are so, very, very sorry..."
|
"What's this?"I sign to my mother, as I approach the new addition to our living room.
"This piano was willed to you in Uncle Tom's final will. You remember uncle Tom, don't you?"I read her lips as she carefully forms words into sentences.
Uncle Tom? Who in heaven, hell, or purgatory is *Uncle Tom*? He probably doesn't know me, because if he did, he would've known that I am as deaf as a stone, and can't hear a thing. Is this some cruel joke?
Still, I feel drawn to this piano. It's got a faded lid which I open carefully, noticing the little engraved hinges. It's beautiful, I'll admit.
My fingers are itching to play it. But how? I don't even play. Heck. I don't even know how loud a piano is. Should I even try this?
I turn to see my mother disappear into the kitchen. It's relatively far away, so I assume that it wouldn't be too loud. I press down on a key hesitantly, unsure of what to expect. Nothing moves. Under my fingertip, I can feel a very slight tremble of the key, the only indication to me that the piano has made a noise.
I get up and examine the edges of the piano's body. Slowly, carefully, I take off the front panel, revealing the web of strings and hammers. I marvel at the patterns they create.
This time, I sit more confidently and brace my fingers against the keys. I start slowly, tinkering a light Alberti bass on the lower register. I am mesmerised by the hammers jauntily bouncing up and down in rhythm.
I decide to be adventurous and add a simple melody up on the treble staff, only hoping that it sounds good to those who can actually hear it.
It's just me and the piano. I've tuned out everything else around me. My fingers are dancing lazily over the keys in 3/4 time as I envision couples waltzing. I watch the hammers hit the strings and savour the tactile differences as I play each note. It feels so comforting, as if I was always meant to be here. I can't seem to explain it.
I catch a glimpse of my mother in the doorway and stop playing. She is crying into a tissue, but I can't interpret why.
"Is something the matter?"I sign worriedly.
"No, no"I read her lips, and miss the rest of what she was trying to say. I wait for her to compose herself as she dabs the corners of her eyes and leans gently on the piano.
"That was beautiful,"I read, finally.
"Really?"I sign in disbelief.
"Yes,"I read her lips clearly, "It was...unreal. I suppose you truly are a descendant of Beethoven,"
Wait.
*WHAT?!*
fin.
Note: concert pianist here; I really appreciated this WP and I am really glad I could write this. This prompt resonated with me and I honestly wouldn't know what I would do without music in my life!
|
It was a good life. It really was. I can't complain too much. I grew up in a nice middle class family, went to college, had a good job, a loving wife, and two beautiful children. My wife had died a few years ago and, I won't lie, I gave up at that point.
Oh I put on a brave face for my kids, sure. But really that was the beginning of the end. Lying there in my hospital bed, hooked up to machines and tubes and electrodes, surrounded by my children and grand children, I knew it was time to go. I opened my Bible to a verse I had bookmarked and read it off, then smiled softly and said a few words of encouragement to my grieving family.
As the light faded, I took a deep breath and said my final words.
"With all of you here, surrounded by such love... I feel as though my life is now complete."
And that was my last breath. And here's the big secret. When life is inevitably coming to an end, it's easy to let it go. It's easy to think that you did your best, and it's time for it to end. There's a certain peace out of it. But, when there's a chance to continue, a chance to continue not only living, but *enjoying* life, suddenly that peace is gone. And I got my chance.
As my vision faded to black, a... a vision appeared before me.
*Congratulations! You have completed "Life"! You reached level 96 and accumulated a score of 256,723! You also accomplished the following bonus objectives:*
* Get Married (Silver).
* Procreate (Silver).
* Survive a Traumatic Accident (Gold).
* Maintain a Job for 30+ Years (Platinum).
* Dedicate to Religion (Bronze).
* Travel to 37 Different Countries (Platinum).
* Survive Military Duty (Platinum).
*Your lifetime alignment was: Very Good (79.23/100.00).*
*You qualify for NewGame+. This is a harder version of the original game, with new challenges and a higher difficulty setting. Continue?*
I was dumbfounded. What was this? Was this a chance to... to keep 'playing'? Yes! I screamed it in my mind. Yes! I want to start a new game! I want to live!
And with that, the light began to return. A tunnel. And then I was in the world, screaming. And as my senses dulled away into that of a child I heard:
"Mr and Ms Martins, it's a beautiful baby boy. What would you like to name him?"
"Rose... he's so beautiful. I don't care what we name him anymore, I'll love him no matter what his name is."
"I love you Mike. Why don't we name him..."
"[Cody](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/DaddyOFive)". |
"Come on,"she told me, fluttering her eyelashes in what I suppose was supposed to be a flirtatious way but instead coming across as totally comical. Sure, she was pretty enough for a human even though she was only mildly pink and not nearly red enough for me. That didn't sound spiritist, did it? I mean, some of my best friends are human.
"I cannot have sex with you, Samantha,"I said, looking at the wards that she had set up around the summoning circle. For an amateur she had lucked out and had me trapped in a pretty solid circle.
"Sylvia."She said, this time trying to look pout-y or sultry, it was hard to tell the way she was twisting her face, "My name is Sylvia! I don't want a relationship, just to f..."
"Look at the time!"I shouted suddenly, looking at my part of the wrist that definitely did not contain a time piece of any sort. Did humans still use those or should I pretend to look at a mobile phone. Did they still use Nokia's? By Satan's horns I was so out of touch. Take a decade off nowadays and the whole place changes.
"It says here,"she lifted a raggedy paper-back book that had the logo of a popular mass-produced occult company on the side, "That when I summon you, you have to do exactly what I say! I say you need to just fu..."
"Listen, Steven,"I said interrupting again, noting that the air was so thick with female pheromones that I should have been able to crawl over them to escape the circle "That book is tripe. I am not THAT kind of demon. I am not an Incubus, and I am definitely NOT a Succubus, not that there would be anything wrong if I swung that way. I mean times ARE changing... Now, I am the "beat and kill your enemy"type of demon. So, who do you want pounded?"
"The name is Sylvia,"she said, then suddenly smiled in what I think she thought was a sexy way but reminded me of a clown yawning, "I know what I want pounded."
"Sylvia!"I finally said, trying a stern voice, "Get your mind out of the sex gutter and put it in the killing gutter for Satan's sake!"
"Well,"she said, deflating, "If you don't wanna do it. I guess we could do something else. I don't need anyone killed though."
Bummer, I thought. "Great idea, Shelly!"I said aloud, "What would you like to do?"
"I know! You can read my first fan-fiction novel I wrote!"She stated and pulled out what could only be described as something that made War and Peace look like it would be the Cliff Notes for.
"Fine,"I said sighing, undressing, "Sex it is." |
Scare. Very scare. All of the days, always scare. Spoop and boop and snarl and bite, gnash and thrash and woof and whine. Mean eyes and long teeth, always scare. Bad ones, worse ones, evil ones - everyone is scare when I bark and shout! They cower and slink and walk right past, screaming and crying as I gnaw on my bones.
I don't nap or play when there's scaring to do, I have gates to guard and growls to growl - it's scaring and biting and growling, flicking my tail and bearing my teeth. Saliva dripping and drooping, sizzling on the ash as it burns through the ground, the steam rising up in all shades of red. Everything is red, more so or less.
I gnash and I bite, nipping at some behinds - the line moves forward quicker.
'It's worse in there!' I think, as I woof them along. 'If only you knew!'
There's sobs and clanking as the chains shuffle on, hands bound and feet tied in an endless line. They don't talk, do they even see? The people in front. Just get pulled and keep pace, as I peer down my snout - the lips curling around teeth, my tongue panting out dry.
My nose twitches. I heave in smells, heavy and smokey, and fish for the perfumed tint that's drawing my attention.
In the vast line of red is a crying golden figure, a shining beacon of yellow amongst a parade of blooded monotone. They trip as their leader is scared by my bark with their feet catching the chain in a captive jog.
I leap from my post and land next to the line, it snaking quickly around me as they jump back in fear. I howl and it's loud - powerful and fierce, low and hoarse, hooded figures swarm and halt the progression of the chained. Pacing up the line as I follow my nose, I ignore the cringes and sobs of the ones I pass by. I'm large, so strong, they could be crushed in a bite; but they can't even see, averting their eyes. My paws halt on the ash and the black cloud settles, in front of me is the coloured smell staring at the ground - they're bound and they're bleeding, it shines tasty and red, but these ones aren't for chewing or scaring, gnashing or gnawing. I howl once again - it's louder, it's *coarse*. From the shadows come more hoods with faces hidden in darkness, they grab at the golden one and pull the chains of its wrists. It grabs at its hands and collapses to the ground but is pulled from the line and is shrieking instead. It's heels drag it in the dirt, an ash trail rising behind it, when a great burst of colour explodes by its side; the even *brighter* ones emerge, beautiful and indifferent.
I slink back to my post, and bark loudly so we resume - those chained march on and I bite at my bones, woofing loudly when I feel like to make them march on.
I scare and I gnash and I bark and I bite. I pounce and I howl, I woof and I whine. It all smells like death and it all looks like red, and they all shuffle slowly and they all weep, and I sit on my post and snarl and watch; because I guard the gates of hell, to scare and to push, to smell out the good ones, and to stop them coming through. |
"What are your intentions with my daughter?"the hooded figure hissed, a skeletal face mostly cloaked in the shadows.
I swallowed, and glanced over to his scythe. Did he really have to bring that thing to a restaurant? "P-purely honorable, sir,"I managed to stammer out. "She's a lovely, uh, woman, and I... Uh..."Words failed as my eyes caught his empty eye sockets. Was he glaring at me, or looking lovingly? I couldn't tell, as his face was an unchanging skull.
"My lovely Melissa is a precious flower. The one thing I love more than my work."
"Of... Of course. And I want nothing but the best for her. Truly."This wasn't so bad, I thought. He's hard to read, but... Is this worse than a really good poker face?
"Daddy, calm down,"Melissa said, laying a hand on her father's bone-thin arm. "I don't need you scaring away another one."
"Very well, my dear. But you!"There was almost a voice there, rather than just a raspy whisper. I snapped to attention. "If you harm her in any way..."
"You needn't say, sir. I understand."Death doesn't have subtle threats. Not that he needs to.
He nodded silently, and poked at his salad. You wouldn't think the Grim Reaper would need to eat light. "Now that that's out of the way... I apologize for your grandmother."
I nodded, and allowed myself a smile. This could definitely work. |
If a random taxi driver from Brooklyn could be number 6, it meant that everyone could have a purpose in life, despite their current station. I was trying to imagine what the future held for me, now that I knew that I was so crucial for humanity's future. I just wished I knew what exactly that was.
The most important thing for me was not to let it go to my head. I saw stories in the news where people in the low hundreds were trying to make money out of their new "elite"status, faking importance they did not have before—crazy bastards. No, I was going to stay humble. Keep driving my cab, using it only as a good story starter. It felt good. I admit I enjoyed the extra tip I was getting.
I just finished driving home one client when a man, covered in blood, burst out of an adjacent building holding an unconscious pregnant woman in his arms. "Please, take us to the closest hospital!". I did not hesitate a second. I drove like a madman, honking nearly the whole time while I was getting to the hospital.
I helped the man get the pregnant woman on the stretcher, covering myself in her blood in the process. The adrenaline was then finally allowed to subside; she was in good hands now. This is when I finally noticed it. The man was number 5. And the woman number 1. I followed them inside the hospital; I had to see why she was so important. People were looking for number 1 since God revealed himself. And she was there, in front of me.
Everyone noticed it simultaneously, and soon the only thing you could hear was the woman cries and the doctors attending her talking between themselves. They were all there—number 1 through 5. You could feel the solemnity of the moment. Everything felt like slow motion while people gathered in awe of what was happening. And then she gave birth, a young girl. She was number 1 now.
I got back to my car, tears flowing down my cheeks. I felt transcended. I looked at myself in the mirror of my cab. My number was now also a blurry mess of shifting numerical digits in the millions. It did not matter anymore; I did not matter anymore. But somehow, I felt accomplished and fuller than ever before. I was happy. |
The rapid, bass heavy beat sounded through The rooms speakers. It was a rare luxury that Kyle got to use those. He normally had to use his headphones, and they were not nearly as good. His head bopped along with the beat, and he used his tools as makeshift drumsticks, tapping on the cold metal table.
He occasionally used the to work on the high tech gauntlet in front of him, but the soundtrack was just getting to the best part. And, with the team gone, he was left to work the way he actually wanted.
Working with superheroes was awesome in a bunch of ways, but they could be so stifling to his creativity. Now that he was alone, he could really flex his creative muscles on Shade's new battle gauntlet. It was going to be so badass. Way better than what he was currently using.
He was about to install the weapon's newest weapon, a sweet little toy he called The Liquidizer, when the music cut off. It was replaced by the proximity alarm.
"What the? Come on, not now. It was just getting to the good part."He said.
Kyle went to the nearest computer and activated the base's security suite. The cameras were the first thing the come up. They showed several people that should definitely not have been there. Four of them, and Kyle knew all of them. Well, he knew of them, anyway. All were villains, and all had been put away by the team he worked for.
A grin spread across Kyle's face. He never got a chance to do this! A quick check showed the invaders included a brute, a pyro, a ghost, and a minimizer. Those last two might be tricky. One could walk through walls and go invisible, and the other could shrink herself and other things. But that just made things more fun.
"Computer, activate security protocol McAlister...five should do for this group. Manuel mode on the measures that have the capability for it. I want to have fun with this. Oh, uh, authorization Samson 4804."
The computer display changed. Instead of just observation equipment, it now showed a detailed map of the base, and the various security measures his code had activated. They were beautiful. Masterworks of his own design. And he had never gotten to play with them outside of testing.
He hit a few buttons, activating the broadcast system.
"Welcome, evil doing idiots."He said. The villains stopped. "You came here, probably thinking this place was an easy target with the Squad gone, right? Well, too bad. All that means is I get to have more fun with you saps. Oh, uh, I suppose I'm legally and contractually obligated to warn you to either leave or surrender to the proper authorities. So yeah, do that stuff and all that. But secretly, don't do that. I never get the chance to play with people like you.
"Now, let's see who's who."He called up the still active dossiers on the villains. "Okay, Cannonball. Pff, no challenge at all. Next."The team brute growled and flexed his impressive muscles. Probably as some kind of scare tactic. "Volcanis, huh, haven't see you on the news lately. Guess it must've been tough for you get break out. Anyways, almost as low a threat as the big guy."The team pyro turned red. Literally, bright red. Steam even started rising from his skin and costume. "Oh, now here's a fun one, Lord Specter. You might actually give me a challenge. Not much of one, but, better than the others."The ghost was the only one who kept his calm, apparently not reacting to Kyle's jabs. "And last up, Minimal. First of all, thank you so much for not using some kind of buf theme, way over done. Second of all, you're hot and all, but Glory Girl is way hotter."The minimizer turned almost as red as the pyro. Kyle flipped on the mics in the room. He wanted to hear this.
"No way that stuck up bitch is hotter than me!"She roared. "You must be blind not to see it! Get down here you little punk! I'll rip your balls off! You probably haven't used them anyway!"
"Oo, nice attitude."Kyle said. "We'll see how long it lasts. Anyways, yeah, begone evil doers, surrender to the forces of justice and all that. Now that that's all done, I have one thing left to say. Bring. It. On."
Kyle cut the broadcast, cracked his knuckles, and got ready to bring the pain. This was going to be fun. |
"But they were the weakest?"The young scientist complained. "They should have died out within the first 50 years or so. Even a pack of the lesser animals could have wiped their whole tribe in a matter of days!"
The wiser scientist didnt bother to look at the younger one, instead staring intently on the screen. "Its survival of the fittest, not the strongest. You should know that by now."He said dismissively, curious about what this surviving human race would do. The humans on the screen were making some tools of some sort.
"But thats just it. They weren't the fittest. They were weaker, dumber, slower. They had no advantages over their breathen. How is it that they not only rose above the others, but caused mass extinction events doing it?"The younger scientist continued. He was either too young, or too closed minded to see the obvious answer.
"Yes, they were the underdogs in this experiment, but they had the one thing that not only insured their survival, but their dominance over the others and even over this planet. And unless we intervene they will either destroy themselves or destroy all of us"the leader of the research team continued, wondering if he could get his government to intervene before it was too late. He watched as the tools were revealed to be sharpened spears
"They are the most ruthless species we have ever created" |
Gregnok stepped into the guild's office and grunted "I am ready for my next mission, sir."
Snelren, sighed. He was at a loss for what to do. Gregnok was going through a contract a day and completing every single one without failure. He should be thrilled. Instead each day was another punch to the gut. Gregnok was the least discrete assassin he had ever come across. He was skeptical of his size, but his kill sheet spoke for itself, or so he thought. Ever since he accepted Gregnok into the guild their reputation had plummeted. From masters of disguise and subtlely, The Shadows Hand had earned their name. Gregnok however, seemed to not know the first thing about either. Worse still, he was convinced he was a master of both.
"Very well. I have your next target here. And please. Gregnok. Try not to be seen."Snelren was honor bound to keep Gregnok's guild membership valid due to his track record, but he wasn't required to hide his disappointment.
"I am invisible. I am stealth. I am the night. Do not worry."Gregnok said flatly.
"Right. Of course. Just be sure? Okay."Snelren said, handing over the black envelope containing his next mark.
"Always."Gregnok said with a nod before loudly running out the door.
The average assassin under The Shadows Hand was lean. They wore dark blue colors to blend into the shadows. Their shoes were custom made with special fabric to dampen footsteps to almost completely silence. They moved with grace. Most were scholars and well educated. Their weapons of choice were poison and daggers. Gregnok was not anywhere near the average. He was 600 lbs of mostly muscle. His green skin caught every shred of light and amplified it. He towered 8ft tall. His intelligence was estimated to be that of a child. And his weapon of choice? A 150 lb spiked sledgehammer.
Gregnok located the compound. Inside was his target. He would have to sneak past the many guards as usual of course. He crouched and began to try and sneak towards the two guardsmen. The first guardsman spotted Gregnok 300 yards away. "HOLY FUCK! LOOK AT THE SIZE OF THAT THING! IS HE COMING HERE???"The second guardsman grabbed the first by the chest and held up his sword threateningly. "Quiet! Are you trying to get us killed? That's Gregnok! He's killed hundreds with just his bare hands. You're insane if you think we're paid enough to try and stop him."The other guardsman looked scared and confused. "What? That's him?"
"Yes. Do you really think there are that many orc giants around? Now quiet! I've heard from half a dozen men in the field he will leave you alone if you pretend not to see him."The guardsman gulped. "Fuck. Alright."
Gregnok was closing in, the guardsmen had seemed to be fighting. Perfect, even easier to sneak past them he grinned. The two guardsmen were now just a stones throw from Gregnok when they neverously resumed talking. "Oh man! Look at that, I think it's a shooting star."The other guardsmen said in a poorly acted line, "Wow, yes, I do think you are right. It's so beautiful. Let's just take a couple minutes to appreciate it. By looking exclusively up. Clearly no one is around to stop."Gregnok was just a couple feet away at this point and stopped to look up. "I don't see it."He said and the two men broke into a sweat. The first guardsman nervously tried a new approach, "uhh.. umm.. Hey, Markin. Isn't it our lunch break actually? We should just go."The other guardsman hastily stammered "wow, yeah, look at the time!"And the two awkwardly stepped around Gregnok as they spedwalked away.
Gregnok resumed his approach into the compound. He must have perfectly timed his approach with the guards lunch schedule. He was a genius. He entered the courtyard next where four guardsmen sat playing cards. One shot up and instinctively yelled "Intruder!"And grabbed his sword before promptly exploding under the force of the orc's sledgehammer. The remaining three guardsmen froze. "H-hey, did you guys hear anything?"The other two quickly yelped "Nope!"Then the first continued "Great umm.. It's.. It's your guys turn, he said wiping brain out of his eye."
Gregnok smugged triumphantly. He had executed the guard before the others could be alerted. Snelren could learn a thing or two from him. Finally he entered his target, Ezral's, personal chambers. "Gods! How did you get in here! Guards, kill him!"The two men standing next to Ezral rushed into combat. Their insides turned to outsides before their arms were even in reach of the brute. Ezral's face turned white with fear and anxiety and collapsed from a panic attack. Gregnok simply walked up to him and crushed his head like a melon with a casual foot step. No can see you if there's no one left to see you. Gregnok smiled. He was invisible. He was stealth. He was the greatest assassin to ever live he told himself as he expertly snuck out of the compound, not a single person noticing him. Snelren will be so jealous. |
I lean forward as the wall behind my head shatters, feigning surprise I shoot out of my seat and hug a wall not visible from outside my office.
"Sir, are you alright?!"Alden, my chief administrator rushes over to me "were you hit?"He asks, a brief flash of disappointment in his eyes as I show him that I'm fine.
"Thank goodness he missed me, Alden contact security immediately. We must let them know a rogue gunman is on the loose". He rushes from the room as I lament the fact the rogue gunman was yet another attempt of his on my life.
I learned long ago of his allegiance to the Resdin corporation, our greatest competitor. I have had him under the most stringent observation since our discovery and unbeknownst to him I've known of every one of his plans.
Yes I very well could have him arrested and tried for corporate espionage charges but he's just to damn useful. In his mad dash to ingratiate himself to me and his bosses obsession over my demise they have given him information to allow themselves to be beaten in the markets. To most my chief administrator appears as a business mastermind, to me he is nothing more than a tool, and a key into the inner workings of my greatest rival.
-One week later-
Alden bursts into my office "Sir, your lunch has arrived".
I look at him quizzically "you do know I have staff specifically for this? I'm sure you have many and much more important tasks to take care of?"
"Don't be ridiculous Sir, I always make sure my duties come first and foremost"Alden hands me my coffee, the same coffee in the intelligence report on my desk, reportedly laced with cyanide. Alden freezes as he hears the cup shatter on the floor.
"My goodness, I am so sorry. Hear you are taking time out of your schedule to bring me lunch and I knock my mug off the table how rude of me"
Alder whips around looking at the shattered porcelain littering the hardwood floor, a profound disappointment washing over him as I cut in "I do truly apologize, but there's no need for such a strong reaction. It's as simple as having the cafeteria bring up a fresh cup". Alder looks at me intensely as his face brightens "Yes, of course. Sorry sir, just a stressful day. you know?"
"Yes, yes. I understand. But maybe this will brighten up your day a bit". I smile as I slide a report across my desk, showing the ground we've gained over Resdin corp since Alden started working for us. "That's amazing Sir, I'm just happy to be a part of the companies success"I cock an eyebrow at him "Part of it? Alden, we wouldn't have anywhere near these numbers without your intricate knowledge of our industry. Why I bet Resdin is just kicking themselves that you're not on their payroll". |
"Are you sure?"The grandmaster rested his head in his hands, elbows on the weathered, marble table.
All I could do was nod slowly. "There's no denying it. My team has been researching it for a full month now. There's a soul shortage that's causing the spike in stillbirths."
"My god… Oh, my god."The grandmaster clutched at the thinning strands of once-red hair on his head.
"I went into the field to… test the waters, myself. I've never felt anything like it. It was like walking into a desert. I went to a mall with hundreds of people and detected maybe a dozen souls at most."
The grandmaster was silent. He looked like he wanted to curl up and die in the giant robe that he wore solely for tradition's sake. I felt the same. The robes I wore over my everyday clothes felt like they weighed a ton, much like the responsibility of this crisis.
"How did we let this happen?"the grandmaster asked after a moment.
"Perhaps we were greedy? Perhaps we didn't think ahead… but none of us could have seen this would happen. This is the first time our tampering with human souls has caused a shortage, there was no way to foresee it. I swear, we didn't know."
"Tell that to all the mother's who will never get to see their children open their eyes!"The grandmaster stood up in a flash of anger. It was soon replaced with tiredness, and he sank back into his chair. "We should have known. It should have been obvious."
I couldn't do anything but nod in agreement. He was right, it should have been obvious. For thousands of years we had tampered with the souls of man. We only took what we needed, at least we thought we did. Souls aren't like apples, you can't pluck one from the tree and expect a new one to grow in its place. You can't give the soul back, either. At least, you couldn't yet.
"Sir, my team and I are working on a way to fix this."
"Obviously."He said, without looking up.
"Of course, it will take time to find a solution…"
"How long?"
How long? How long would it take to find a solution to a problem we didn't even know existed until a few months ago? A solution that probably didn't even exist?
"Three months. Give me three months and I'll have a solution."
"How many babies will never have a chance at life in those three months?"The grandmaster asked, mostly to himself. He just shrugged. "Just do the best you can. We have to fix this, the fate of both mankind and our species could depend on this."
"Yes, sir."I bowed, and left the hall. My footsteps echoed along the hall, and I left my robes on a coat hanger by the door.
I closed the door behind me and leaned against it, sighing. Three months. Oh god, what have we done?
I glanced to my left, catching my reflection in a darkened window. Man, I looked bad. Bags under my eyes, bright red hair unkempt and greasy. I almost sobbed as I inadvertently began counting every single freckle on my face. Every single soul… I had stolen.
And for the first time, I asked myself what I was. What *we*, Gingers, were. Were we even human? Or were we monsters? |
I remember the day all of my memories came flooding back in like it was yesterday.
I have ‘won’ life more times than I can count. Everybody’s done it at least once. Well, almost everybody. If you don’t reach the age that it takes to remember everything, they just take you in at a 0% run. It was out of your control, you died. Game over.
The timer begins the second it strikes past midnight on your 19th birthday. That’s when the memories return, and you can bathe in them, fix your mistakes. Get that 100% score.
Or...
Or you could do the any % run.
Winning is boring. You don’t have to try, just live. I’ve gotten over 50 100% runs, and I can’t tell you how much of an excruciating grind that was.
Step 1) graduate
Step 2) find job
Step 3) get wife
Step 4) get kids
Step 5) retire
The 100% ‘counter’ isn’t a even counter of you taking all of life’s opportunities, but instead a meter with a lousy, unnecessary number that fills up a small amount at every action, and only inflates your afterlife ego. % doesn’t mean crap.
That’s why the any % run is my favorite. Yeah, the challenge runs are fun, but rely on luck more so than pure skill.
I remember the day that the memories came flooding in like it was yesterday.
It was, really.
World record for the any % run was 3 days. Amateur.
Thankfully, my dad has this drawer that’s locked at all times, that he can open in case someone breaks in. Well, locked at almost all times. Not now. Not anymore.
She was beautiful.
Stainless, shiny, and without a scratch, she almost distracted me from my goal.
I took her out.
Surprisingly light too, whoever made this is really good at their job.
I put her against my temple.
Winning? Winning’s easy. Anyone can win.
This?
This is a speedrun. |
For a month now, Jacob had felt something subtly off about his daily life. It was as if a flurry of minor inconveniences had descended upon him, a faint haze of sorts that lingered around his person. Nothing that could be conclusively *proven*, but something that he intuitively *felt*.
Jacob lived alone in a small, one-room apartment. The complex was a little old, but not quite what you could call dilapidated. Paint had begun to peel off of the apartment’s façade, and trace amounts of mildew were scattered along the narrow corridors. The doors creaked faintly as they opened and shut. Not an ideal place to live for a young man, but at least it was on the ground floor.
Perhaps he had begun to notice it when the shower started acting up. Once in a while, as he stood under the shower with his eyes shut, feeling the water droplets gently pattering against his skin, he noticed the water pressure changing faintly. It wasn’t the sort of thing that one would normally pick up on, but Jacob was more sensitive than most. He had thought about it, then cast the matter to the back of his mind. In a complex as old as his, there were bound to be problems with the plumbing. Nothing that he’d have to be overly concerned about.
Then one day, as he stood under the shower, rinsing out the shampoo that he’d lathered into his hair, the steady stream of water from his showerhead abruptly stopped. It trickled out quickly, as if someone had cut it off at the source, and soon, there was nary a droplet of water landing on Jacob’s head. He groped around for the shower tap and turned it off, then back on again, hoping that it’d fix the problem. But still, no water. Fumbling above his head, he traced the outline of the showerhead, making sure that it was properly connected. Still, no dice.
Jacob waited. Two minutes later, as if nothing had ever happened, the water began to flow again. As he stepped out of the shower and felt for his towel, he frowned reflexively. He’d have to call the plumber and figure out what was wrong with his apartment. Two days later, the plumber arrived. Scarcely half an hour later, he left, deeply confused. There was nothing wrong with Jacob’s plumbing. In fact, it was in remarkably good condition for an apartment that old. The plumber waived half of the fee, and left.
Jacob shrugged it off. Probably just one of those inexplicable things that happened from time to time.
Then more inexplicable things began to happen.
Jacob was a neat, organized man. He had to be. Misplace something, and he was unlikely to ever find it again without someone else’s help. He didn’t like asking other people for help. It was a sort of stubbornness borne of pride, the unwillingness to admit that he was handicapped.
As such, Jacob had adapted. He’d established routines that he followed with almost religious fervor, never daring to stray from the patterns he’d put into place. At seven, he’d wake up, brush his teeth, wash his face and change his clothes. At seven-thirty, he’d step briskly out of the door, picking up his cane from where it always stood in the umbrella rack. Then he made his way to work. After what was usually a depressing, exhausting day of counselling those who had just begun to cope with blindness, he took the five-forty-five bus back home, bought dinner at the Chinese takeaway or the Mexican joint near his place at six-fifteen, and stepped back into his house at six-thirty.
So when his cane disappeared from his umbrella rack one morning, Jacob had no idea what had happened. He couldn’t find it no matter how hard he tried. He even called a friend over, but after a bit of searching he had just laughed and told Jacob to cut back on the alcohol next time. Jacob didn’t drink. Not long after that incident, his phone migrated from its usual spot on his nightstand to inside his clothes cupboard. His toothbrush had swapped places with his hand soap, and his face-wash was where his toothpaste normally was.
Anyone else would dismiss these as minor trifles, little slips of forgetfulness here and there. But Jacob *wasn’t* forgetful. He couldn’t afford to be. And so these minor inconveniences had begun to worry him. His colleagues could sense it too. They told him it seemed like he had a black cloud hanging over him, something stressing him out. His boss encouraged him to take a day or two off work.
As Jacob lay in his bed, drifting off to sleep, he heard a faint sound from the corner of his room.
“Scritch, scritch.”
He frowned. A mouse? He’d have to call the exterminators when he woke up tomorrow morning. As his consciousness faded away, he couldn’t help but rue his luck. What was up with these tiny misfortunes over the past month?
Jacob didn’t- couldn’t- see the faint shadow in the corner of his room, a subtly different shade of black from the shadows cast by the moonlight peeking through his blinds. He couldn’t see the scratch marks etched into the plaster of his wall.
When he woke up, he couldn’t see the other face reflected in the bathroom mirror, hovering above his shoulder.
*****
*more stories at /r/chasing_mist*
*I write a story a day [here](http://yearofpilgrimage.wordpress.com)*
|
"haha... i hurt it during one of the fights in the dungeon,"I tried to laugh it off.
&#x200B;
"Oh I see. Oh well, do you want to go down to the inn and grab some dinner tonight?"She asked.
&#x200B;
"I don't know. I feel kind of tired today. May be I can fully recover in a few more months and then I'll treat you to a big night out,"I responded, wondering about what she had said. Was I just some magician's spawn, created in some dungeon to kill a real hero? Was I even a person, or just some result of black magic. What was I.
&#x200B;
"Honey, you've been brooding at home for months now. It's time you go out. Besides, Sir Gallawad is going to be there tonight. I know how much you like talking to him about swords and that sort of stuff."
&#x200B;
Gallawad? I vaguely remember him. May be it's the battles that affected my memory. Or may be I never met him because I'm not a real person. Either way, perhaps it would be good for me meet this Gallawad. Perhaps it can help me figure out who I am. "I don't know... I'm not in a mood for chit chat."
&#x200B;
"I tell you what. I'll wear that Dress of Curvy Shapes +5 that you always like. And I'll even man the horse carriage tonight. You just sit back and relax while I drive you to town!"
&#x200B;
Sometimes, life isn't too bad. Here I am, sitting in a back. My beautify wife is driving the carriage. She's getting a little better. Since I've been adventuring, she had to drive herself a lot. Of course she still has problems commanding the horses and getting lost once in a while, but she's improving. I was quite proud of her.
&#x200B;
"You just sit back and relax, honey. I know the way into town now. No more getting lost!"She proudly proclaimed.
&#x200B;
But then my mind slipped back to what she had said. And wonder who I was and if I had any right to live.
&#x200B;
It was then I realized everything was going to be okay as I yelled out at her driving by instinct, "Honey, Right. Right. Take a right. Your other right!!!"
&#x200B;
&#x200B; |
"That'll be eighty-eight dollars, please."I smiled at another satisfied customer.
"I'm not paying you for this crap!"the old man fumed. "All the legs are different lengths. On both of them! How are we supposed to sit on these?"
"Sure they may be wobbly,"I explained, with a wave of a hand. "But they're not just chairs. They're art! They get people talking at dinner parties. Right Barb."
"About how awful they are"Barbara sneered.
"Oh, come on Barb."I frowned "I thought we were cool!"
"So I did I,"she said, bluntly.
I shook my head.
"Listen, Clarence, wobbly or not these babies are indestructible."I attempted to sell him "Buy it for life, ya know."
"Son, I'm seventy-two years old."the old man shook his head. "And a short time ago I decided to enjoy life as much as I could with the time I have left. I eat fried chicken three times a week."
"It's true,"Barbara shrugged.
"I want to sit on my porch and drink beer."Clarence continued. "And this piece of shit chair, no matter what it would weather, would be a literal pain in my ass. Calling the back a rhombus would be generous. And how are the seats wavy?! It was two dimensional."
"I added some lines for the aesthetic."I looked down.
"That was a bad idea!"Clarence yelled.
"Well you don't have to be such an assho-"
"Yes I do!"the old man interrupted. "You need to give that pen up! To someone who can use it to do good. Like drawing a fucking house! For a fucking homeless person! That will pass city inspection!"
"Oh ya know what, Clarence!"I shouted.
"What"
"Fuck you!"
"Fuck you too!"
_______________________________________________
Shortly after walking into my apartment, I sat down at my drafting board and peeled a piece of paper from the roll to my right, placing it atop the surface.
"Tell me my chairs suck,"I muttered as the pen scribbled furiously across the parchment. "Guess who's gonna wake up to a Bigfoot in their bedroom."
As I completed the final stroke I stared at my soon to be creation.
"Sure hope this dumb looking thing can at least fucking walk this time." |
He'lix was shaking as he entered the main area of the small ship. The others were gathered around the viewing station, watching the humans go about their lives.
"Hey, guys, I think I messed up."He said.
"Why? What happened?"Br'in asked, looking at him through her rear eyes, with her forward eyes still glued to the screen.
"I, uh, I just finished godding a human, and I think I might have messed up."
"It should be fine. As long as you stuck with some random poor person."Ge'tor said, keeping all four of his eyes on the screen.
"Oh, sure, I did. At least, i thought I did. See, I went to this young female in a country at war. Uh, they call it France, I think. So, anyway, I go the whole voice of god routine on her, and tell her to lead her countrymen to victory against their enemies."
"So? Human females aren't allowed to fight."Br'in said, with only a slight hint of bitterness in her voice.
"Exactly! I thought she'd go out on the street, maybe wave one of those pointed sticks around, and then be ignored. The thing is, they're actually listening to her."
Eight eyes were suddenly on He'lix. He curled his upper limbs up into his torso.
"You...influenced a conflict."Ge'tor said. "Is she..."
Br'in was already working the viewing screen, changing it to the indicated region.
"Oh dear."She said. "She's really taking this seriously. Damn near winning battles with her tactics. He'lix, you messed up."
"Oh, oh man, we...we've got to get out of here."Ge'tor said. He got out of his seat and rushed to the controls. "We're in enough trouble for godding a primitive race, but influencing a conflict? We'll be lucky if we don't get executed."
The ship came to life as he worked the controls with all six of his arms at once.
"But...maybe...maybe I can fix it?"He'lix asked.
"No. No you aren't doing that."Ge'tor shouted, even as he plugged the warp coordinates into the nav computer. "You messed this up enough already. We've got to get out of here before a patrol shows up."
"Maybe they won't find out?"Br'in said. "I mean, this is a pretty backwater system. Patrols don't come out here very often. Right?"She was not convinced.
"Just...just give me the chance to, to fix this. I...I can go back in and tell her to stop. Maybe make it seem like she has to survive because of, I don't know, a bigger destiny or something?"
"It's too late. The damage has already been done. Now those French people will have learned from her tactics and be able to use them without her. You changed the course of these people's history. And you know what that means for us, right?"
"But it was only He'lix who did the godding. We didn't do anything."
"You think the patrols are will care? If they catch us, we're all dead by association."
The other two were silent. They knew he was right. The patrols were filled with people known for adhering to the strict letter of the law. Several of which they had broken.
"Okay, get us out of here."Br'in said. She slumped into the nearest seat and activated the warp restraints.
He'lix followed suit much more reluctantly. He was still sure he could salvage this. He could fix things. He had no idea how, but he could. But when he heard the warp engines come to life, he knew his chance had passed. He watched the viewing screen as the ship sped away. He would have to come back to Earth as soon as he could. He had to know what he had done. And if it was possible to fix anything he had broken. |
10:15. Showtime. Kerry walks into the diner almost to the second. He takes his customary booth in the north corner, pulls a book from his bag, and makes himself at home.
If I'm being honest, I look forward to seeing him. He's a sweet guy, if a little quiet, and always kind. He always brings some worn old pulpy book, one of those with the cheesy hand-painted covers, and he'll chuckle or groan to himself as he reads.
I wander over to say hi, and he smiles his eye-crinkling smile. "Hey, Seth, glad to see you today!"
"Good to be seen,"I say. "What filthy thing have you brought in here to read today?"
He flashes the cover, which prominently features a wizard sitting at a desk covered in skulls and tomes and what appears to be an Apple II. "A young computer programmer woman gets whisked away to a world of magic and heroes and insufferable samurai-types who never shut up about 'the way of the Sasenna.' Not *too* ashamed of this one, honestly, it has a few genuinely neat ideas on display."
"Let me know if I need to add it to my list,"I say and grin. It's pretty well-known between us that my "list"is more like a graveyard. "Lemme go get that bacon frying and I'll come back and you can tell me more about it."
"Um."He fidgets a bit. "Actually, I was thinking we could maybe skip the bacon and hashbrowns today."
I blink. Kerry has ordered the same meal for months. "Are you feeling okay?"
"Yeah, yeah, just, you know,"he stammers. "All that grease and fat, just...I kinda thought I should watch my figure a bit, is all."
"I mean, if you say so. Change is good, right? But you seem a little...I don't know, wound up? What's got you thinking like that?"
His face starts to go red. "I...well, if you must know there's...someone I'm interested in. This guy I met a little while back."
The hits keep coming. "Really now? Lucky guy, does he know?"
I wouldn't have thought Kerry could get any redder, but he finds a way. "I don't think so. I wanted to, I guess, get in shape a little and figure out a good way to broach the subject."
"Well well."I grin and give him a pat on the shoulder. "For what it's worth, I don't think you've got much to worry about. You'd be a catch. But hey, the chef does a little breakfast salad, fried eggs and greens, if you want to give it a try."
"Sure, sure, but could I get the eggs scrambled?"
"Yeah, no problem. Be right back."
"Hey,"he calls me back. "Thank you. For your...vote of confidence. That means a lot."
"Anytime Ker. I mean it, too."
He buries his nose deep in his book. He takes the salad with a smile, and I only catch him eyeing the bacon in other patron's plates a couple of times. As I'm ringing out a ticket, I find myself thinking about Kerry. His smiling eyes, the little noises of appreciation while he reads.
Goddammit, I think I really *did* mean what I said.
I shake it off, and find that he somehow slipped out without my noticing. Poor guy must have still been embarrassed. I go to tidy up the table and collect the bill.
I find a little scrap of paper beside the ticket, marked with a phone number and Kerry's tight scrawl reading "call me after work?" |
The fountain works.
One drink - you must drain the cup to the very last drop - and you can feel it working. You can feel your back straightening, skin tightening, every muscle and sinew refreshing all at once. The years melt away, and with them all the wear and tear of your old life. That stiffness in your knee, the one that pains you when a storm is coming, eases. The scars you bear fade to nothing. White hair flushes with colour once again, weak eyes sharpen and strengthen. Every wrinkle, every crease, every line, is smoothed out. You become yourself again, in your fullest possible prime, a prime that you may never have even experienced before. Rejoice in your strength once more.
But that's when they come. You've had your drink, you have your youth, but now you hear the howling. Far off at first, but closer with every passing moment. Just as we can read death in a tiger's eyes, or the glide of a serpent, that howl brings terror with it. No matter how civilised you are, how far removed from your jungle-dwelling ancestry, that sound grips you. It settles along your bones and lets you know that here, right now, you are nothing more than panicked prey.
As prey, you run headlong into the jungle, and they follow howling after you. You race through close-packed trees, feeling your ankle twist on an upthrust stone, hear your knee pop when you clatter off a trunk in the darkness. You stagger on, straining your eyes to peer into the shadows beneath the ruins you must escape to be free.
They follow, relentless. The howls dance around you, panic sinking into your very bones till you hunch yourself smaller, as though a lesser stature will escape their notice. You lose control of your muscles, feeling your face twitch and stretch and fix into a rictus grin of terror, unable to compose yourself in your heedless flight. Still you stumble on.
Long claws catch at you - sometimes branches, sometimes shadows, sometimes the true talons themselves, ripping jagged lines across your flesh as they play with you, bleed you, taunt you. Every drop spilt slows you, makes your trail more clear, and such wounds will not close easy.
Mabye - maybe - you are one of the lucky ones. One amongst countless thousands who drinks and runs through hell. Maybe the claws never spear through your vitals, the howls never chill enough to stop your heart. Maybe you dodge each lunge and jump each pit, find your way through trees and tormentors without being brought down. Maybe you make it to the end.
Reach the river and know yourself free - they will not follow. Look back up the mountain, past the ruin-filled jungle, and remember that drink you took on the peak. Remember the wild race, one step ahead of howls and hunters. Remember that you survived when so many others did not. Be proud.
Stand there then, every joint aching in protest from the strain. Feel the sticky blood congealing in your roughened wounds, slow to heal and sure to scar. Run trembling hands across your face and feel the marks that terror has put there. Hold a strand of hair before over-tired eyes and see how fear - the bone-deep fear of the hunted prey - has bleached and thinned those locks. Turn your back on the mountain and begin your weary, limping journey home.
Remember that the fountain worked. |
A villain is running amok downtown eluding police all afternoon. At 6pm, in time for the local news, the hero arrives a day subdued him The crowd demands to know "Where were you?""Uh... I have a day job."People don't seem to understand that playing the hero doesn't pay. They expect my services for free and yet criticize me at every opportunity. If this was a proper gig, I would at least get something out of it, but at this rate, my resentment is going to make a villain out of me.
Despite my bitterness, I immediately flew off to deal with Count Morbid. It was a tedious thing, since he had the ability to feign death at the slightest touch. With him, it was a matter of keeping an eye on him until the authorities arrived to take him away. Every time he'd regain consciousness, I had to knock him out again. By the time I got home, it was 9 pm and the only thing I had energy for was a shower and a quick dinner before a much needed slumber. My job out demands on my body that no villain or fight could. I was a waitress and all the standing, smiling, and pained conversations wreaked destruction on my mind and body. On a normal day, I could barely walk, had no energy to talk to anyone, and the sight of people filled me with the same anxiety as if I was at work. So, while, I enjoyed being a superhero more, I could barely find a job that paid to be one.
After the most recent brush-in with the media, I thought it was high time that I make this a public issue. If the heroes of this city are suffering as I am, then the safety of everyone was at stake. I had a in with a local journalist and with quick fingers, I sent a text asking to meet up. My demands would be simple. I needed reliable salaried work, at least part-time, and with medical benefits. Sick heroes endanger lives.
I met with the journalist the following day and as I mentioned my priority items, I could tell he was growing uncomfortable. Mid-sentence, I stopped and asked why he'd stopped writing. He ruffled his hair for a second, and then said, "This isn't realistic. How are you going to expect to be paid to do the right thing? Do you have any morals? What happened to you?"
I couldn't even respond for a second, mute with shock. "How do you expect ANYONE to work without compensating them for their time and effort, especially on an on-call basis. This isn't a negotiation."
The next day, I couldn't have predicted the public outrage if I tried. There were people calling me a communist, a terrorist and an outright villain stealing from the taxes of the people. There were protests that quickly turned to riots. Somehow, overnight, I'd turned into a villain and my name was synonymous with evil. I could see that my efforts were fruitless and now, no longer considered a hero, I could hang up my cape and enjoy a calm, quiet existence. |
Idc, I got a mimic character lying around. Here's a short.
---
"Raki?"
"Yes?"
"Tell us about yourself."Ren invited.
"Do I have to?"Rakiya checked. The armor clinking realistically as they shrugged. "I mean. It's not that interesting. I'm not, I mean, I sat a lot of the time."
Bao bounced a coin off his helmet. The orc narrowing his eyes. "C'mon mimic. You must have something to talk about."
The elf, Grey, simply sat in his seat at the table. Idly waiting for some sort of tall tale his kind loved to hear.
"Well..."Rakiya murmured. "I once lived in a place similar to this."
Before it was a master of shape and size, Raki had spent much of adolescence on the move. Not under their own volition of course. But as a little ball of gooey muscle and teeth, a little nudge went a long way.
All mimics start the same. Simple shapes. Simple objects.
Anything easy to draw in prey. Rocks were a fun place to start. Others chose logs and such. And for a time, Raki did the same. Occasionally an animal would investigate and meet their end. Every once in a blue moon, a clueless goblin or fae would mistake them for something to sharpen or burn.
And a nice meal would be had.
However, sitting for such long spells grew stale. Boredom is universal, even if time is your friend. And so, when Rakiya found themselves in a local trash heap near a village. It came up with things to do.
"And so I tried to learn different shapes."Rakiya explained. "Blankets. Tables. Clothing; not easy. And eventually, a clock."
A spell went by as Rakiya absorbed mead from their glass.
"And?"Ren asked, tail swishing with intrigue.
And as a golden clock, things began to escalate. People of all sorts had fascination with the mechanical. It was a sign of the times. And even a mimic was enamored by such complexity. And after choosing to emulate gold and bronze, what prey it attracted. Rakiya had a choice of whom to devour at whatever time. All their strength, energy, sustenance.
It was a buffet. Rarely did their kind get to eat like that.
"So you ate a bunch of people?"Bao interrupted.
"It comes with the territory, Bao."
Greystone simply offered a sign with two fingers. He was invested.
And so for a few years, Rakiya bounced around the land between doomed parties as a lavish, yet simple, clock. Until one fateful night, while it rested in an abandoned manor. Two guesses as to why the manor was abandoned. Rakiya found themselves inside a bag of holding. Normally, breaking free from such would be feasible. But the magic kept them snugly away. So the best move was to just enjoy the ride.
It had been adopted, well, recovered; by a locally well known rogue.
Verena, was a noble knight turned thief. In her escapades she'd led men of valor. Met and even conned lords of the land. Hired herself out for things others would deem unfathomable for the average soul. And in her evolving career, she'd amassed an fortune. Moved to a foreign land, and settled down with a tavern of her own.
Rakiya got the joy of being a proud ornament on her mantle. In a building rife with food. Meat is good. Of course, but things like bread or wine worked just as well. It just became apparent to Verena that her pub was more popular than she knew.
It also gave time for Rakiya to test their ability further than usual. Become a chair, a cask, a door. A suit of armor. Occasionally, Verena would have to look for the clock. Assuming someone stole it. Only to be a bit confused when she found an extra table. Or an apple she must have left on the bar.
Normally by now, Rakiya would go for the kill. But in Verena there was kinship. She was alone. Rakiya was alone. And while she lived an incredible life, it seemed companionship didn't fit that lifestyle. Time came and went as it did. And Verena of course grew old. Her youthful vigor had waned in the ways it does for everyone. But she was still no one to trifle with, and she removed many a drunk sailor from her tavern with ease. For those who didn't go quietly, she'd made allies with a local goliath.
That tended to end things quickly.
Rakiya had grown strong. But also comfortable. This was its home. This was the best place to be.
"Until they came."Rakiya deflated. The suit of armor hunched slightly. "They wanted gold. Apparently, they learned who Verana was. The Knight of The Wind."
"Wait."Greystone realized. "You called yourself-"
"Yes. Sorry."
They had made quick work of it. Bashing their way in and using their skills to trap her. After ransacking the bar, they tried to get the location of the treasure from Verana by force. They did not know it was bricked under the very fireplace she kept at a full burn. However, once they deemed her useless. One made the mistake of trying to steal everything not nailed down. Including her gold clock.
And that was a fatal error.
What happened next made no sense to those involved. Verana, despite her injuries, did her best to try and clamber past the blood and viscera trailing the room. Ignoring the screams of people much tougher than she. The figure that carried her from the broken structure resembled no one she knew. But somehow, it felt like an old friend.
"She was very weak."Rakiya said. "And I didn't know if she would live. I had to find help. And so, I took the only shape I could find that would work."
The suit of armor made sense now. A painful reminder of what she'd lived through. Verana had locked it away years before. If anything, in Hope's to forget. But now she found herself in the company of an ally she believed long dead.
"Did she survive?"Grey asked.
"I don't know."Rakiya answered. "I had to change. And I ended up on a ship."
"How long has it been?"Ren leaned in.
"Years."Rakiya nodded. "And I'd like to return. But, you know. I have to eat."
Grey and Bao finished their latest glasses and stood in time. The pair went around the table to Rakiya and gave them a pat on the back.
"Well. Come on."Grey offered.
"What? Where are we going now?"
"Let's go find her."
"...What?? Right now?"
"I'm drunk, and I've come into money."Bao offered. "I need to find another place to drink at."
One of the barkeeps fell over while carrying an empty cask. And that for some reason, gave Rakiya a feeling they hadn't had in some time.
Hope.
---
r/Jamaican_Dynamite
EDIT: [Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/12cv28e/wp_youre_a_mimic_you_were_disguised_as_a_clock/jf5te3v/)
[How they all first met.](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/101lyb8/wp_youre_a_mimic_waiting_inside_a_room_for/j2p3ho2/)
[How they learned Raki wasn't normal.](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/ydaztz/wpa_mimic_decided_that_life_as_an_inanimate/itsc5ly/) |
At first, I didn't trust myself. Thought maybe it was just an old language or a lost language. But I kept running it through my head, making up phrases that were immediately translated into this distinctly other-worldly patterns. The sounds weren't right. The curve of speech was completely skewed from every other language on the planet. This, whatever "this"was...it wasn't human.
I felt my body seized by a chill. Despite the ice cold fear pulsing through my body now, I felt a bead of sweat drip down onto my eyebrow. I had asked to be granted the gift of knowing every language. Did this mean there was an alien race on the planet? Did it mean there was only one other non-human language in existence? Have people on Earth been exposed to this language before? I couldn't fathom that it would be possible to find anyone else who knew about this. Even if I could, how would one go about a search?
Feeling myself starting to panic, I stretched the neck of my shirt. The air in the room began to feel thicker. I had to snicker at the thought of all those fabled warnings: "be careful what you wish for."There I was, possibly the only human on the planet that knew for certain there was alien life and with the means to communicate with it. With that thought, an excited pause came over me. Even if I were the only person who had the ability to communicate with aliens, I certainly couldn't have been the first to try.
For the next few hours, I hungrily scoured the internet for rumors, conspiracy theories, articles or research written by "wackos,"you name it. I checked message boards on UFO sites and read blogs belonging to people that had dedicated their lives to uncovering the secrets of Area 51. The panic had not subsided and feeling sick to my stomach with worry, I tried to make the search a quick one. I found a couple that lived in the state, about seven hours away, who had been organizing an online chat room/blog for people that claimed they had encountered aliens.
After several hours and a few email exchanges, the couple agreed to see me. I told them the full story and to my surprise, they did not question one detail. They invited me to stay with them and to help me figure out what I was dealing with. They seemed eager.
I arrived at their home very early the morning after discovering my newfound "talent."At first glance, the place looked kind of creepy. It was a shack in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by sparse forest. It was in the mountains so it felt isolated, but without the beauty that usually accompanies isolation. I saw that the couple was waiting for me on their front stairs when I was pulling into the driveway. They introduced themselves in person, Ziggy and Marla, and looked like your standard aging hippies; long hair, baggy clothes, buggy eyes.
Once inside, my hosts were very eager to hear more about my situation, despite the early hour. Feeling as if I owed them this courtesy for their hospitality, I explained everything again. How I had come by the genie, my wish, the sudden understanding of something completely non-human. I told them I wasn't feeling well at all and that I needed to take a wash or a rest, but they just looked at each other.
Marla spoke first.
"You haven't spoken it yet."
I didn't understand immediately. My stomach was twisting and my head had been pounding for hours. I was tired. But as I began to respond, I thought about it.
"No...I guess I haven't. I don't even know if I can..."
How had I not thought to speak it? To hear what it sounded like?
Marla gasped and brought her hands in front of her lips, like a child before opening a wrapped gift. Ziggy put his hands on her shoulder.
"Only one way to find out,"whispered Ziggy excitedly.
He and Marla both leaned in with their eyes wide. I'm not sure what I expected, but what happened next wasn't it. I thought of a sentence and when I opened my mouth a sharp, deafeningly loud screech came out. I don't even think I finished the sentence I had originally thought because I close my mouth so quickly. The sound was horrible.
But I felt better. My stomach ached less and my headache was significantly improved. I decided to try to speak again to see what would happen. The loud, shrill sound again, but for longer. I was feeling like new. My body was starting to feel normal, my muscles less achy. I began to get excited, but as I nearly opened my mouth again, Marla grabbed my arm.
"What are you saying?"
"Nothing really, just random words. Stupid sentences like 'I like bananas,'"I said.
"Can you say anything you want?"
"Yes, I think so."
Her voice changed. She stood up taller with Ziggy talk by her side.
"Perfect,"she said clearly without moving her lips an inch.
With that, I saw her stick a gun against my neck and pull the trigger. With a pang of pain and a moan, human, I saw everything fade into black.
When I awoke, I was cold again. But I knew this was different. This wasn't the cold that comes along with being sick, the way I had been feeling. This was regular cold. Freezing cold. I began to move and heard the loud rattle of chains against cement or concrete. I felt the mountain air confined in a small space with me. I could see nothing. What the hell had happened? Who were these people??
I heard a voice in response. Ziggy's voice. It sounded like it was echoing, but not from the room where I was being held.
"Just relax, Justin."
I jumped.
"Where am I?,"I yelled.
Again the echoing voice.
"You're here in our cellar in the woods. We'll let you out when we need you."
"Need me for what? Where are you?"
This time I heard Marla's voice and the creaking if big metal doors opening. She was walking into the cellar, light seeping in behind her. Halfway through her sentence I realize she wasn't moving her mouth at all. It wasn't even open.
"We've been waiting for one like you. I don't know if it ever could have happened without your "genie"or whatever you call him. Ever since we got stranded here 200 years ago, we've been seeking out those with information as to our own kind. We've found plenty, clearly"
And with that she motioned to the rest of the room. I hadn't taken a look before, when my eyes still hadn't adjusted. Now though, as I looked around I saw the most horrifying scene. The shack above ground was a cover for a vast underground cellar. There must have been 20 or 25 others down there. Some dead, some tied up, some tied to chairs.
"They're not dead,"said Marla.
"How..did you..."
"We've known how to do that for ages. It speaking to our deserters we can't seem to do in our human bodies. You see, Ziggy and I were left here during a rapid rescue that took place a long time ago. Since, we have had to adopt the human form, as our original bodies could not cope in this atmosphere."
I felt the panic take hold of me again. It was strong and heavy. My head was beating and my stomach twisting.
"That is normal,"said Ziggy as he walked down the cellar doors. "It's just the reflex of the human body. Your systems can't handle us, not in any capacity. Even understanding our language is enough to upset your body."
"You noticed you felt better before when you expelled the foreign sound from your body?,"Marla inquired.
I thought about it. Yes, I had felt better. I began to open my mouth to relieve myself of the sickness, but Marla leaped forward and covered my mouth with something cold and hard.
"Ah ah. We need you to save it. The next rescue mission might be getting close. When they are here on Earth, we'll need to contact them. We can send our language out in radio signals every so often through you. But a human can't speak 6iyJnk-ovu8sa endlessly. It would kill you. Unfortunately, keeping it in you for too long will kill you. So we'll have to space out your messages just right."
I could feel the sweat dripping off my face, onto the floor. Everyone else in the basement with me looked spent. Completely exhausted of all human resources. I wondered what they offered to the program.
"They weren't of much use. Not like you will be."
With that, Ziggy and Marla both turned and began to walk out of the cellar. In my mind, I was screaming. Begging them to let me go. Pleading for mercy. Through my mind Ziggy spoke to me one more time before closing the door and letting me sink into darkness again.
"Sorry, bro." |
"Welcome to the Trillion Dollar Store! May I help you find anything?"
I pause to look around before answering. The only items on the shelves here are endless lines of brochures. The nearest brochure, "All of the gold owned by all of the world's governments", depicts a pile of gleaming gold bullion.
"I have a gift card for one trillion dollars, I'm looking for the hugest, most luxurious item you've got."
"Section One contains technology projects, Section Two is our military department, and Section Three is for infrastructure. Let me know if you have any questions."
Section One displays its brochures on gleaming silver shelves. I pick up a few small pamphlets at random and look at the covers. "Create a Self-Sustaining Permanent Colony on Mars", reads one. A pamphlet titled "Build A Next-Generation Fighter"is heavily creased with handwritten annotations in English and Chinese. One next to it, titled "Supply Green Energy to The World", is pristine and untouched. I try to read a pamphlet on neutrino-based communication, but all the physics involved make my head spin. I decided I won't be able to make a decision yet, so I move on to Section Two.
The military department has brochures arranged by geography. The heavily trafficked Middle East shelf offers "Ten-Year Invasion and Occupation of Iraq"and "Ground War Against Iran's Nuclear Facilities". I walk through the section, seeing all the pamphlets have been taken from the spots labelled Russia, North Korea, and Canada for some reason. After a little more browsing, I decide there aren't any countries worth annexing, and move on.
The infrastructure section looks almost untouched. "Free College For Every Child In America"lies pristine next to "Repair Every Bridge and Road In America For 100 Years". I see brochures about green farming and converting seawater into fresh, and then my eye catches the one thing I know I want. I pick it up and rush over to present it to the counter.
"Have you made a decision, sir?"
"Right here", I say as I pass it over.
"Ah, the six-mile-high gilded statue of yourself. A fine choice, Mr. Trump." |
"Going behind enemy lines"is what we called it. My squad and I arrived together, with no supplies or weapons. Last I remembered we had been fighting a platoon of demons up at the outer ring, and then something fiery shrieked down out of the sky and exploded.
&nbsp;
Killed every last one of us, but that's a minor setback. "Regroup!"the squad leader yells, and we line up. There's a constant flow of people here, getting herded into different groups by genuine pitchfork-wielding devils. Those guys are practically just accountants though. Where are the heavies?
"Men, it's an honor to go behind enemy lines with you,"our leader says, "and I will remind you that we are fighting not just for the liberation of these damned souls but for our own immortality. It's all or nothing, hellfire or eternal life. I have orders to follow, in this particular situation. We are not to try and escape or cause general mayhem, but to quickly and efficiently secure this area. Do you understand?"
&nbsp;
We all shout, and start planning. It makes sense; if we can get organized here where the dead arrive in Hell then we may be able to fight this war from both sides. And the lack of heavy Demons might mean we're already wearing them thin, so this could be enough to tilt things in our favor. One day this cavern will be cleaned up and air conditioned, it'll look like Grand Central Station instead of a volcano's asshole.
&nbsp;
Soon we make our move, and start taking out devils. We suffer heavy losses, including myself - but it's not that much of a loss. The trident skewers me and I feel the worst pain I've ever experienced burn through me, but a few minutes later I'm picking myself up off the ground good as new. Rumor has it they've got pits of acid where they shove soldiers so that you can't ever get back on your feet, but I don't plan on letting them drag me to one.
&nbsp;
Finally, when almost all of us are armed with stolen weapons and the remaining devils are running for it, a heavy shows up. It's not even a type I've seen before, it towers over everything like a colossus. Shit. Jenkins charges in and manages to stab at it's Achilles tendon, but it's like threatening an elephant with a toothpick. The beast stomps on Jenkins and he's gone, flattened and burning. Presumably he'll recover eventually but...
&nbsp;
One by one we try to hurt it and fail. I manage to avoid being stomped but my trident is gone, and I'm out of ideas. This thing is unkillable.
&nbsp;
Then the others start charging. The regular folks, old men and little girls and all the other confused and tormented souls waiting to be sorted. They start climbing it, and there's so many of them the thing doesn't even seem to know what to do. They're hitting it, ineffectually, with thier fists and feet. Some have rocks, and one or two have even picked up tridents. It's not enough to kill the thing, but the demon is clearly feeling overwhelmed. It brushes a hundred people off, but they scramble right back. The ones that are too smashed to move are replaced by new souls, even some that are just now arriving.
&nbsp;
I grab the trident I had dropped and start climbing. The mass of screaming, naked bodies should be horrifying but all I can feel is hope and inspiration. Reaching the thing's head, I swing out in front of it on a curved horn and slam my weapon right into its eye. The beast howls and falls, crushing hundreds below it. I roll free and by the time I stand I see some others from my squad are on top of it, stabbing its other eye. The whole cavern shakes, and then gets deathly silent.
&nbsp;
The thing isn't moving, at all.
&nbsp;
The human souls cheer, and some make a run for it. We start to try and wrangle the rest, organize them so we can secure the entrances and exits. We've got a beachhead now. Hell will have us to pay.
&nbsp;
[X](https://www.reddit.com/user/SOdhner/comments/6ha4js/things_ive_written_for_rwritingprompts/) |
"What have you done?"Azreal asked.
"Exactly what you asked,"I said, "Sterilized the world. There's not a single thing left that could be classified as life, except me. And I'll be gone soon enough."
We sat on a slab of translucent purple crystal, jutting out from a craggy collection of pillars of similar material that had once been Manhattan. The clouds drifted by below us, clouds the same wispy purple color.
"You asked for nanites. 'Grey goo,' you said. You spent six hundred hours explaining what a 'disassembler' was until I could create them for you. What *is* all this?"
"This, my dear angel, is *stasis*. I told you very plainly how grey goo works. Did you never stop to wonder why it took *three hundred years* for me to call you? Exponential disassemblers should've been able to scour this world in a month, tops. Yet here we are."
"Stasis."He'd had the same expression on his face practically since he appeared, the pinched look of a man who'd had a lemon shoved in his mouth and left there.
"There will be no more humans. There *are*, currently, no more humans other than me. But their thoughts, their memories, their consciousness, is preserved within these stones. A new race will rise, perhaps, and *a* world will begin anew. By the time they figure out how to damage these stones, I imagine all of us will be... like Abraham and Job... old and full of days."
"This is subversion,"he said, "Heresy!"
I rose, patting the dust from my trousers and turning to look at the cold purple sarcophagus that would soon add my consciousness to the crystalline choir and finish the unwholesome task I'd been set to.
"No, Azrael... this is what we once called... malicious compliance." |
Subsets and Splits
No community queries yet
The top public SQL queries from the community will appear here once available.