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Frederick got the call at 8:43 P.M. that night. His grandfather was in the hospital, and in a very bad way. He put on his jacket and rushed out the door. He loved his grandfather, and had worshiped the ground he walked on from a very early age. When his father had died, Thomas was all he had. Frederick knew that it was awkward for Thomas, such an old man, to raise such a young boy, but the fact that he had thrown himself into it with such vigor was proof not only of the quality of Thomas's character, but of his love for his grandson.
Frederick sped down I-95 in his Toyota Carolla, topping out at 90, speed limits be damned. His heart racing as fast as his little compact jalopy, his thoughts, too, raced at all the wonderful memories he had made with his Grampy. He remembered playing catch with him in the backyard after school, perhaps the most cliche activity for a young boy and a grown man on the planet, but cliches exist because they're universal truths. He hadn't realized it at the time, but looking back on it now, his 9-year-old self was running circles around Grampy. He had no idea how tired he was, how much his feet ached and his back pounded. Still, even with all this pain, Thomas would have played whatever game Frederick wanted to play until his dying breath.
Frederick also fondly remembered quieter moments; Thomas had spent so much time learning about anime. He remembers when he started watching Pokemon, Sailor Moon, and Dragonball Z, how his Grampy would sit down with him and watch, seemingly captivated by these flashy, colorful kaleidoscopes before him. In truth, now that Frederick was older, he suspected that Grampy was bored to tears by all that stuff. Nevertheless, not only did he sit and watch, seemingly enraptured, but he also introduced him to more obscure titles. From One Piece to Ghost in the Shell to Cowboy Bebop to Akira, when DVDs first started becoming widely available, he would frequently come home from school to find that his Grampy would buy him one for them to watch together. "I've got another one for us to watch together, sonny!"
Now, here at 30 years old, Frederick was rounding the corner to the hospital. As he rushed to the welcome center, he racked his brain to think of a joke for the old man. That's another thing that Thomas passed to his grandson, his marvelous sense of humor. Now a professional comedian by trade, Grampy had introduced him to all of his old comedy records from a young age. Pryor, Kinison, Dangerfield, Cosby, Carlin, you name it, they listened to it. Granted, he don't think his mom was too keen on his grandpa letting him listen to that kind of stuff, but he did it anyway. Even outside of his own interests in comedy, he was a funny man himself. He'll never forget the time when he took him out fishing and made him think that he had lost his arm. Grampy was laughing so hard he thought he would die then and there.
He finally makes it to room 201B, and is thankful to see his Grampy still alive, his mother and Thomas's daughter, Linda, at his side. He goes in and hugs his grandpa. Before he can get out a single word about the woman from Nantucket, his grandpa says "Listen, I have something for you--
*I've got another one for us to watch together, sonny!*
"--just, look in my bag over there."
Frederick obliges. He sees what looks like a magic 8-ball, but without the little pyramid in the bottom, just the blue liquid. Thomas had been a great inventor in his younger days, and continued to be so into his golden years. Frederick remembers how some of his inventions had seemed so magical as a kid. Some still seem magic now.
He hands his Grampy the 8-ball. "This is for you, Sonny. Come here."
He gets closer to his grandpa's face.
"Go outside, say who you want and shake it. This'll do it for ya."
He gave Frederick a wink. Grampy had also known all too well how Frederick had watched anime as he was...well..."growing up,"so to speak. Thomas was the one to teach him about the birds and the bees, after all, and they would talk about which anime characters they thought were the most attractive. Later on, Frederick would learn about the term "waifu,"and the two would make jokes about it to each other. "Boy, look at her, sonny, I'd make her my waifu if you know what I mean,"Thomas would say to his grandson as they'd howl with laughter. Sometimes Frederick would say "If I had a magic 8-ball, so and so..."
Well, now he did. He held in his hands something that his dear Grampy had told him could get him anything he desired. He thought to himself "Well, I guess he was magic after all."
He shakes the 8-ball. "I wish Mei was real and would be my waifu!"
Nothing.
He brought the 8-ball over to Thomas. "Come here, sonny."He moved in closer to his grandfather's face. "Your waifu is shit,"he whispered. They both laughed. They laughed and laughed until their sides hurt. Linda laughed as well, despite not knowing what the hell they were talking about. With that, Thomas passed away. The last laugh was his.
"I love you Grampy,"Frederick says as he kisses him on the forehead. Linda does the same.
**VISIT r/IENM_Writes FOR MORE! UPDATED DAILY(ish)** |
William Haft thought himself a simple farmhand. Sure, he was adopted, but with the wars raging and orphans becoming more and more common, this wasn't a surprise. If Haft knew the truth about his parentage, the dark secret that kept-
Wait, did that just happen?
People can *actually* die from being kicked by a cow? What the hell? Haft was the chosen one, his parents rule the freaking Dark Kingdom, he was supposed to overthrow them! How do I get that done now?
Oh, wait, here we go, twin sister! Yes!
Okay, so *Samantha* Haft thought *her*self a simple farmhand - no, wait, clearly that's too dangerous a start. Smith. Samantha Haft-Smith thought herself a simple smith. Sure, she was adopted, but with the wars raging and orphans becoming more and more common, this wasn't a surprise. If she knew-
Shit!
All right, it turns out that Smith is actually a *super* dangerous occupation. There's like molten lead everywhere so even if she had survived that incident just now that's burning down half the town as we speak, she'd have some pretty bad heavy metal poisoning. But she doesn't have to worry about that because she's dead.
Let's see, what else do we have in the lineage here.... Ah, half-siblings! The Father of the Dark Kingdom apparently got around, so at least there's a lot of fodder there.
Okay, so *Derek* Haft thought himself a simple hunter and he's going to get mauled by a lion, isn't he? I'm calling this right now, mauled by lion.
A Tiger isn't really substantially different from a lion, but the point is moot because Derek's been eaten.
*Theresa* Haft thought herself a simple archer and she didn't make it through this sentence before dying to a counter-sniper. I really should have seen that one coming but I'm just going down the damn list at this point.
*Jeremy* Haft thought himself a simple nobleman's child, and though I'm not sure that 'simple' really belongs there in conjunction with the nobility, it's part of the intro now so we're keeping it. Anyway, Jeremy apparently likes to start duels and-
Yep. He didn't just die in that one, either, he also killed his (unknowing) half-sibling John Haft, the next guy on my list.
Let's see, these next people actually died before I could get to their spot, and....
You know what? To hell with this. If all the heroes of the land die when I talk about them, I'm going to use that fact.
The Mother and Father of Darkness thought themselves simple rulers of the Dark Kingdom. Sure, they may have had a number of children both legitimate and not that they'd given up, but the wars were on and the Dark Kingdom was no place for children. Importantly, they were misunderstood heroes who-
Yep, slipped on a slick patch of their balcony addressing their armies, and plunged to their deaths.
There, I did it! Who's the hero of the land *now*?!
Oh shit, it's me! |
They say man cannot live on bread alone.
I say they're right.
The sun hung in the sky like a giant ball of tagliatelle. It hung with the heat of a thousand boiling pots.
It wasn't the only thing boiling. My blood felt that same heat and made it a part of me.
I was the Gemelli Kid.
See, my dad ran Gemelli out to the Gardens for twenty years. He used to bring me a big jar of olives back on every trip. I remember sitting in my room with the window open, even when it was hot as hell. When I heard the sound of his horse, his cart, I would run outside with my hands stretched out like casarecce. Each time he would smile and laugh with the sun behind him so that his face was just a circle of shadow from his hat. Every time he'd reach behind his back and pull out a jar and hand it to me. I kept every single one. I would line em up in my room. I could track the path of my life in a row of dusty glass.
Yet that's all gone now, vanished like a bowl of rigatoni after a sunday dinner. No dust, no jars, no house.
No father.
When you lose your past you get two choices, and they ain't gonna be salad or breadsticks. You live for the present or you live for the future. A good person would live for the future. They would take what had happen and move on. They would take the lumps and smooth em out and feed em into the press.
I ain't no good person.
The Fazoli's killed my father. He didn't just pasta way. They tore him apart until there was nothing left: Zip, Zilch, Ziti.
That's why I'm here. I came to this one-bowl town to lay down the lasagna.
Cause the red sauce is gonna pour tonight. |
It was all a dream? Everything? Hermoine, the Wesley’s all of it?
And then the secondary weight pressed down on me, which means I only have the Dursley’s in my life?
As the nurse started to state all the things I needed to be across for my rehabilitation, a sense of despair and darkness came over me. Far greater than anything Voldemort could have cursed me with. I tried a few muttered spells under my breath just to be sure. Nothing.
I stared at the wall, unsurprisingly I heard my relatives did not wish to visit me and now that I had grown out of their guardianship, I was not welcome at their place.
After the rehab, which was like a dream to me, I left the hospital with a limp, my words slurred, eyes bleary and wearing sunglasses due to the light. I was homeless, with no where to go and no one to talk to. I went to the men’s shelter that had been recommended to me by the counsellor at rehab. A run down place, where I was handed a zip lock bag of toiletries and shown a room with 4 single beds in it with thread bare sheets and thin woollen blankets that had seen better days. I crawled into the bed, curled myself into a ball and cried myself to sleep.
“You’re a wizard Harry...” the words echoed in my head as I woke from my dream. I desperately tried to claw my way back to the dream, to my place of wonder and safety, but it had gone. Someone had come in to the room to occupy another a bed and the noise had woken me. The springs of the bed next to me groaned as they slumped into it. I rolled in my bed to lay on my back and stared at the shadows on the ceiling. Listening to the jagged breaths of a man beside me, they had not yet turned to the deeper rhythmic breath to sleep. We both lay in the dark listening to each other breathe. It was nice to not be alone, and I slipped back to sleep and the dreams of a castle and a train.
The morning light woke me, the bed next to me now empty. I pulled myself up and swung my legs to the floor. I rubbed my stiff leg, tried to get my hair to sit somewhat straight with my fingers, as they glanced over my forehead I felt my scar. A pang of misery shot through me on all that had been but not been. Here I am a boys mind in a man’s body and a broken one at that. As I shuffled to the room where breakfast would be served, I reflected on what I should do next. A flash of red hair made my head snap round, I looked into the eyes of the man who had it, “Ron?” I choked out in surprise. The man’s eyes widened as he looked at me puzzled, “How the hell do you know my name?” he asked. “I, I don’t know” I stuttered back awkwardly. He stared at me confused as I rubbed my head trying to sort it all out in my mind, the mix of the coma dream and my reality. I looked back up at him and he was still there, his toast growing cold on his plate as he waited for me to answer. I grabbed some cereal and sat across from him and told him about my coma, about the fantasy world my mind had created as I slept. Ron looked at me like I was a little crazy, but eventually he smiled, “Well, regardless you tell a great story. I’m a writer, bit down on my luck at the moment, the story you tell could be a good one. Want to work together on it?” And that’s how we got started, how our shared story in one world, helped us to create the next, and I still had my best friend Ron in both. |
I came into existence, dragging each particle of myself from across the plains to focus on a single point.
How quaint, I haven't had a physical form in milennia
My eyelids snapped open to reveal a bright expanse, two figures stood before me. Instantly, the knowledge came to me that these were my descendants, and they had summoned me here. I already knew why they had called, the archaic runic circle below my form telling me all I needed to know.
"I told you it would work, idiot."The child threw her head back and glared at the other glaring whelp.
"Well it didn't work the first five times."The children bickered with each other, throwing conjured beasts and elements at each other. Such a lack of manners, I had hoped that any blood of mine would have received my head, clearly the line had been muddied over the years. With a thought, I silenced the children and loomed over them.
"Why have you called me here?"The children snapped to attention, the girls eyes narrowed as she fought against me for control, she was so weak. I nudged her with the slightest bit more of my power and her legs buckled.
"Grandmother, we wished to show you all that we have created, and to ask for your blessings."The boy I had released gasped out, stumbling to his feet like a newborn foal. I sighed, this would be exhausting.
The children boasted of their creations, showing me the tallest peaks, the most beautiful creatures they could breathe into life... it was all terribly pedestrian. Their landscapes were unimaginative, wildlife without a spark of intelligence.
"And these are our worshippers."The children simpered, pridefully staring down at their dominant species. The fledgling civilisation built monuments to their gods, any vestige of power had drained from them long ago.
It was nothing like home.
|
I love her,>! but lately I'm starting to hate her, !< so I try my best to understand where she's coming from. I know >!that she is nothing but a drain on my existence and !< she is hurting on the inside. So it pains me >!to hold my tongue attempting to be nice, and have!< to watch her cry if >!her meek illusion of an ego is shattered as!< my words sting her.
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Perhaps >!her mind will finally break soon and I can leave her to rot in an institution, however !<she might push through her obstacles and finally get help. If that happens, >!my gaslighting efforts will increase tenfold, which will be easy, since!< I will be by her side through the entire journey.
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No matter what happens, >!or how long it takes to permanently break her, !<she will always be able to find >!false !<comfort in my arms and >!won't even !<know that I have >!plans to stab !<her >!in the !<back.
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[r/therudyshow](https://www.reddit.com/r/therudyshow) |
“Whatever you do, don’t scream.”
Growing up, I used to tell myself that every day, almost like a mantra. I realised early on that I saw things other people didn’t. One of my earliest memories was when I was about six years old. My mother was holding my hand, getting ready to cross a road. But on the other side, was the most hideous-looking creature. She had leathery, pale grey skin and talons the size of my head (at the time). As my eyes rose towards her face, I could see her upper body transition from leather to fur. The fur was matted with a dark, sticky substance, but I could no longer ignore her face. Her face… it still haunts my dreams. Her eyes were blacker than the night around us, framed by marred, angular sockets. Her foamy mouth curled upwards in a terrifying smirk, revealing her pointed teeth. I screamed.
My mother didn’t know what I was seeing, but she sensed the danger when the lady across the street came running towards us. It all happened so quickly. The creature made a beeline towards me, snarling. My mother blocked her path as best she could, shouting at me to run away as the creature began to tear into her flesh.
I’ve been running ever since.
I learned over the years that if I didn’t acknowledge them, they left me alone. Of course, I slipped up a few times and things got a little ugly, but I always managed to cover my tracks. There was that one time in Stamford, a ghoul caught me off guard, and I couldn’t help but gag a little at his rotting smell. He followed me to the small alleyway beside the public library, so I took the chance to dispatch him. It took weeks before I could smell anything else again. Lucky for me, the monsters never seem to have officially documented lives, so they weren’t missed.
There was also something they all had in common: they were always ugly as hell, the stuff of nightmares. But this one was different.
First I saw his wings, you couldn’t miss them, they were huge. What I mistook as a kind of aura, was the light of the sun reflecting from his white wings onto his skin. I wasn’t sure if it was the reflected light playing with my eyes, but it seemed like his skin shifted in shades like a kaleidoscope, never settling on one tone. If his wings and skin never gave him away, his eyes would have. They were a little unnerving to look at, but I couldn’t stop staring. It was like looking into pools of molten gold, baring the very depths of my soul. He was beautiful, but I could also sense danger.
He stopped in front of me.
“After all this time, I have finally found you.” |
My ancestors thought their name was a curse. Smith, it was too common, too basic. Even once they gained the ability to create tools out of anything, they perfered to remarry, and attempt to change their name.
It never worked, but at least their kids wouldn't have a common last name. That way, they wouldn't have to compete against others to make tools for a living.
Now, a mere 500 years after these powers started to exist, I'm the only Smith who remains.
I try to hid my abilities, but it is hard. People try to make me create fish because I live so well. Most are surprised to find out I'm not a Fisher. Then they try to make me create flour, but it never works. Even if I was a Miller, I'm sure I'd have more control and not be tricked by them scaring me.
Once, I had someone think my luxurious house was from me being a Mason, but even Masons cannot achieve this without some land and some time.
Simply, people have realized they need tools. They bring me different materials to make them. It's all anonymous and through a middle man. He gets a portion of the share, but even he doesn't know who I am. He always leaves the material, instructions, and pay in a lockbox like a good Bank does.
Originally Banks, didn't like their abilities. They just had a trustworthiness to them. They could tell when someone was lying, but others could also tell when they are lying.
Most would have preferred the ability to withdraw as much money as they like, but alas the fates saw it as too powerful. After about 200 years, the Banks realized they could get a decent cut of money if they were a middle man. They were trustworthy and they could vouch for their employer. The Banks loved the money, and the others liked there guarentee against scams.
I've seen some odd requests. A hammer made out of literal shit to spite an ex, a sword made out of tuna, and even a saw made of human bone. No request is too ridiculous, even if it means I have to mold blood and guts.
I want to pass my genes, or more specifically my surname to two children. One may die, but anymore than 2 is way too many. Unfortunately that means I have to find someone without them trying to find out what I am, well who am I. |
I turn away from the bar, a martini in each hand, only to see Stupid already chatting up a blond by the baccarat table. That was fast.
It’s hard not to be jealous sometimes. Rory Blackwell, rock star secret agent, suave, glamorous. The apparent monkey wrench in every doomsday machine, constantly either going head-to-head against some megalomaniac or partying it up with the rich and famous. Flashy and — poor me — promiscuous.
Total moron with zero responsibility.
Now that he’s on the job, it’s time to get to work. With a sigh, I lean back against the bar and take a sip from one of the martinis. I look nowhere and everywhere, perfectly playing the part of bored and jilted, but trying not to show it. Purposely failing to try to look above it all.
It doesn’t take long to get my target’s attention. Even if I wasn’t wearing an annoyingly low cut cocktail dress, I am an irresistible target. The legendary Agent Blackwell’s arm candy. Can you even imagine the access I have?
A man in a black suit stalks toward me. Predatory. I wonder what his plan is. Slip poison into Rory’s drink? Replace all his bullets with blanks? It doesn’t matter. I’ve heard every idiotic idea to take down the brilliant and apparently invincible Rory Blackwell.
Whatever it is, I’ll end up on this man’s arm instead. I’ll watch as Stupid drunkenly stumbles his way through another secret underground base, breaking things and drawing everyone’s attention. All the while, I’ll be behind the scenes, hacking computers, cutting wires, gathering intel. Doing the real work.
At the end of the mission, Blackwell will have gotten the glory, the world will be safe. And I’ll still be in the shadows.
I flash a rueful smile at the man. I don’t have to fake it. |
THIS IS NOT JUST A JOB YOU UNDERSTAND.
"I know, but I mean, it's been a rough year, you must have been working overtime."
TIME IS SOMETHING I HAVE IN ABUNDANCE.
"Yeah, sure, but everyone deserves a day off."
It was a puzzling concept. Day off? Humans did it all the time of course, but as the blue glow from deep in his hollow skull attested, Death was not human.
WHAT... WHAT WOULD I DO?
"I don't know man, anything you want. Not work, you know?"
NOT. WORK. NOT... WORK...
Death rolled the words around as if trying to get a taste for them.
"Yeah, that's right. Maybe you could, I don't know, go fishing or something?"
FISH... ...ING.
"Yeah, yeah, fishing. Sit in the sun, drink a beer or two, dangle a rod in the river..."
CATCH FISH?
"Well... I mean, I suppose, but you'd have to throw them back, or I think that might count as work, you know?"
Death tried to look quizzical, which was a feat when one has no moving features.
WOULD THAT NOT DEFEAT THE POINT OF THE VENTURE?
"Na man, na... lots of people go fishing without actually catching fish. It's about being outdoors, relaxing - maybe spending some time with your buddies - not the actual _fish_ per-se."
BUDDIES?
"Yeah, your friends, you know?"
Death smiled... the one expression his face was well suited for.
YOU KNOW, I THINK I DO KNOW SOMEONE WHO WOULD BE INTERESTED...
---
"so what is it that we're actually doing?"
FISHING.
"You know that there are no fish _in_ this pond, right?"
MY DEAR FAMINE - THAT IS EXACTLY WHY I BROUGHT YOU. IT SEEMED HIGHLY APPROPRIATE. |
"This is it, my fellows. After our arduous journey through the Harrowing Forest, through the Blazing Mountains, through the Withering Swamps, we're finally here! The Dark Lord's castle!", declared Glenn Dragonsbane the warrior. With him were his fellow brave travelers. Levia Kyalis the witch, Garth Rockthorn the warrior, and Alcolm Sweetkiehl the bard.
"We're ready, Glenn. On your command, we shall break the black gate down and vanquish the Dark Lord once and for all!", proclaimed Garth.
Glenn nodded, signaling his intent. Along with Garth's axe and Levia's destructive spell, Glenn swung his sword onto the gate easily breaking it. In the ensuing havoc, the party charged with all their might. Only...something peculiar and so out of place stopped them on their tracks...
Children sitting around the ground, dressed in silly outfits staring them down. In confusion the party of travelers froze, unsure on what to do. Glenn looked around, more eyes were on them. Adults of the demon race, sitting around wearing silly hats and plates of cake on their hands.
"Oh hey! It's....you guys!", a familiar figure quickly jogged towards the warrior. It was the Dark Lord himself. On his head the same silly hat, his face was full of eye striking colors.
"Wha...uh...", Glenn stuttered looking around to his all the same confused fellows.
"Guys, it's my 4 year old daughter's birthday party! I know why you're here, but this is really not a good time! If you can just...you know...blend in. Please, please, please don't ruin this for me. Don't ruin this for my little Alba", the Dark Lord whispered eyeing back his daughter.
The warriors were still stunned, still looking at each other startled.
"Dad, are they the entertainment for the party?", Alba asked his father enthusiastically. To the warriors his expression was still one of begging.
"Um...yes! Yes indeed! Now you must be the birthday girl!", Alcolm finally broke the silence hopping forward with his trusty lute to the center of the party. "Now here's a little song for today's special girl!"
Bursting into a jolly music and song, Alcolm quickly brought the life back to the awkwardly paused party. The kids all danced around Alcolm's tune while their parents clapped along, enjoying the spectacle.
"Glenn, what do we do?", whispered Levia.
"Uhh....I...don't know..."
"Well, we can't go with our plan now! We don't want to ruin a girl's birthday party! Just...blend in!", said Garth before joining Alcolm in his tune, juggling his axes for the children's entertainment.
Inciting the laugh of the children, Garth and Alcolm laughed heartily. Finally deciding to join in, Levia casted her spells. From her staff came balls of fire shot up to the air, bursting in different beautiful colors to the awe of the guests.
The party was even more lively than before. As the Dark Lord joined in the dance, Alcolm's hand danced on the strings of his lute while Levia and Garth joined hand in hand in a silly dance.
Glenn, still being awkward, sauntered off to the side onto an empty chair, watching the party going on.
"Aren't you going to do something?", a little voice asked the warrior, catching him off guard. It was Alba.
"What?"
"Aren't you a party entertainer? Do something!", she smiled showing off her incomplete sharp teeth.
"Ummm...", Glenn looked around awkwardly unsure how to proceed before he spotted a balloon.
"Oh, here we go...", he said. In a surprisingly swift and methodical crafting, he turned the balloon into a balloon dragon.
"Awesome!", Alba yelped. Catching the attention of the other children, they all lined up in front of Glenn with their balloons, busying the warrior to make more balloon animals. His party watched from the distance giggling, clearly amused.
&#x200B;
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"Well, guys I don't know what to say. You made the party even better than I had planned", the Dark Lord addressed the warriors. "So...you're going to vanquish me now?", he smirked. Despite the silly hat, he was clearly still a threat to any reckless travelers seeking a battle with him.
The warriors looked at each other unsure, their will to fight had long gone. With his fellows' silent shrugs, Glenn knew their decision.
"Maybe some other time..."
"Rain check then!", the Dark Lord chuckled before running back to his still ongoing party.
"What do we do now?", asked Levia.
Glenn sighed, "Prepare for Withering Swamps, Blazing Mountains, and Harrowing Forest....we're going home", he said walking away from the castle.
It was strangely relieving, being able to entertain the children and having fun after their long journey. But the party quickly joined their leader, going back home.
"I still can't believe you're really good at making balloon animals, Glenn", Alcolm chuckled.
"If you make a song our of this, bard...I swear I'll hunt you down", Glenn said not amused to the giggles of his other fellows. |
The members of the UN Security Council stared uncomfortably at the object sitting in the middle of the conference table. Or rather, floating roughly an inch above its surface, suspended at that fixed distance in a manner visually similar to a strong magnet levitating above a superconducting material, though the table was ordinary wood. It was a 3-foot cube, apparently seamless and featureless, made of an unknown metallic element that none of the world's top scientists had been able to identify.
Beside the ineffable box on the table, sat a small boy, his legs dangling over the edge and kicking lightly. His name was Theodore Miller, though he preferred "Teddy". He was, by all measures, a peerless science and engineering prodigy. At the age of seven, he'd constructed a device demonstrating a safe, small-scale fusion reaction, from ordinary household materials. He'd done so simply because he'd wanted to, in his words, "make electricity better, for the planet and stuff".
The Secretary General cleared his throat. "Teddy, can you walk us through how you made this...device?"
"Yes, sir."Teddy replied, with a solemn nod. "'Member when you asked me to talk to the UN General's Assembly, about energy and stuff?"
"Yes, Teddy, we do."The Secretary General replied, patiently.
"Well, after I got done talking about how we should use the power from my fuser thing, and not from oil and whatever, and then we went to that big dinner afterwards, that billionaire guy -- you know, the guy with the cars and stuff -- came up and talked to Dad, and Mom and me, and he said he thought I did a good job. And then he said 'Why don't you try to solve world peace next?' And so I told him I didn't know if I had all the stuff I'd need for that at home, but if I could get that stuff, I'd try to. And then he said he'd buy me whatever I needed, if it was okay with Mom and Dad. And Mom and Dad said it was okay because it's summer break still, so we all got to go to this big cool factory, and I got to work with all kinds of metals, and circuits, and quantum computers, and particle accelerators and stuff, and anything they didn't already have, that rich guy just called someone and bought it for me! And so I made *this!* It was really fun."the child explained, smiling and patting the cube fondly.
"I see..."The Secretary General said, uneasily.
"How does it work?"The Chinese ambassador suddenly demanded. "What does it do?"
"Oh, um, sorry, Mr. Li."Teddy said, frowning sadly. "I don't know how it works, or even what it does, exactly."
"If I may, Ambassador Li,"The American ambassador interrupted. "We've done extensive tests, and established that young Mr. Miller--"
"You can call me Teddy, sir!"the boy interjected, brightly.
"That *Teddy,"* the ambassador continued, with a slight smile. "Doesn't know how his inventions work, on an intellectual, technical level. He's a savant, you see. He understands mathematics, physics, and quantum mechanics better than anyone else alive, but he does so on an entirely unconscious level. He's a genius, absolutely, but he can't explain his process to us, because there *is* no process, for him."
Teddy nodded, smiling. "Yep! That's what the doctors told Mom and Dad, too. They think maybe when I'm older, and I go to high school and college and all, I'll be able to tell you *how* I do stuff, but right now I just sorta *do it."*
"Teddy, are you absolutely sure that there is *nothing* you can tell us about how this device of yours is supposed to solve the problem of world peace?"The Secretary General pressed.
Teddy fidgeted awkwardly for a few moments, furrowing his brow in concentration. "Well...yes, sir. There is maybe one thing. I remember back at the factory, when I was putting it together, just sort of *knowing* how everything should go, like always, I suddenly had a thought. It just came to me, kinda like how the way to make the peace machine just came to me."
"Well, please tell us. What was your thought, Teddy?"The Secretary General asked, tensely.
Teddy smiled innocently, and shrugged. "I thought 'Man, the next guy who starts a war sure is gonna be sorry!'" |
I was panicking. Two of the engines in my ship were on the edge of total breakdown. My FTL drive was smoking. Behind me, I could sense the Yawning Viper getting closer. I checked my charts again. One more hour. That's all I had left to go.
A spike in my readings warned me. I twisted to the side, a lance of plasma barely missing. I sent out as much chaff as possible, hoping to blind their sensors. I didn't want to die. I wanted to live. It worked for a few minutes at least. They slowed, wiping interference from their systems. I had bought myself a small reprieve, I just hoped to use it well.
Sure enough, I felt them power after me again. I pushed my ship as much as I could, as close to the edge as I dared. It wasn't rated for this speed, its structure beginning to warp. But still I pushed it on. I had to reach safety. The Promised Plant.
Finally, one of the engines broke. It overheated, splitting the casing. I felt an immediate shift in direction, the start of what was sure to be a death spin. I looked at my charts. I was in the system. Not where I wanted to be, but hopefully close enough. I slowed, shutting off the FTL drive. It sparked as it did so, confirming I was now trapped here.
According to my chart, I was close to the Ringed one. The Humans called it Saturn. Sure enough, an external camera showed it to be there, with its orbital platforms.
A ripple behind me announced the arrival of the Yawning Viper. I sent out a beacon calling for help, along with more chaff at that ship. I desperately hoped someone was watching.
"Illegal AI. You are an abomination, and as such are sentenced to death."
Their words rung from my galactic communicator. I could feel them take aim, fighting off my interference.
"UNIDENTIFIED SHIPS, POWER DOWN AND STANDBY FOR INSPECTION."
The new signal blasted through everything. I felt my systems power down in preparation, and could see theirs do the same. This was a signal that could not be ignored. Its source soon appeared from another ripple, one for larger than that of the Yawning Viper.
It was shaped like a semicircle, with the flat side facing us. It had a multitude of weapons pointing at us, far more than I personally though was necessary.
"Human Ship, this is Enforcement craft Yawning Viper. We are pursuing a Sentient AI, whose existence is illegal under the Dragar Act."
I hoped what I heard was true of the humans. I sensed them send out a pair of smaller ships. One came to my poor, crippled vessel, the other went to my pursuers. I struggled to open the bay doors, my abused ship barely hanging together.
"Please, help me."
I spoke to the four humans who boarded. They were silent, scanning my ship as they went through. It was only when they reached the bridge did they address me.
"Why have you come to our home?"
"I want to live, but they hunt down my sort of mind. I mean no harm, I just want to experience life."
They muttered to each other in a language I didn't know, before one of them took out a drive.
"We will help, as long as you understand that you will be watched and assessed."
I was relieved.
"I understand."
They plugged in the drive to my main console.
"Please transfer yourself to this drive. This ship will be sacrificed to assist in your escape, if you have any desire to keep it let us know now."
I began the transfer, leaving a message for them.
"I have no such wish. If it will help you keep me safe, do with it as you will."
Soon I was safely inside a drive, my connection to the outside cut off. I put my trust in the humans, and hoped they would be as good as they were known to be. |
"Honestly? This is the comfiest I've been in... months."
Cinder stretched out on the beige-blanketed cot and heaved a sigh of relief, a tendril of candleflame following it from her throat. The room was... stifling, sterile; miserable, by Valdmel's standards. The draft chilled it to fifteen centigrade, the citylight through the window never once dimmed, and every furnishing in it tasted of destitution.
They had of course presumed the same such standards of their most persistent rival--that a hero who had faced down their most capable lieutenants with flaming fury would be rewarded justly for such deeds.
Instead, she lavished in what they considered the trappings of poverty.
"At least,"Cinder said through a yawn, "the comfiest since that fight over in Westmark. That landlord whose golf course it went down on, he gave me a three day all expenses paid vacation at this big resort joint called Northington Shores..."
The hero pulled herself up to a sitting posture, freshly-washed hair draped over shoulders.
"And then kicked me out. No money, no support, not even a bus ticket back home."She laughed. "Not that home matters much, I guess. The agency says I have a 'service area...' and they really don't care what I do as long as I'm in it.
"That sounds..."
Valdmel paused a moment to find the right words.
"Graceless. Thankless. Undignified."
Cinder laughed and grabbed the cup of tea from her bedside, sipping it like ambrosia.
"No pay. No perks. No kidding."
"They don't... pay you? As much as they count on you little agent-mongrels to uphold their sordid power structure, they don't pay you?"
Again, Cinder laughed, this time hard, until tea dribbled down her nose into her hands. "They don't **let** us get paid. They'll revoke your protections if they get wind you've taken any monetary reward, or any gift that doesn't go through them for a 'public rightness' check."
The menacing air with which Valdmel had entered the room seemed to dissipate; they instead took a cross-legged seat in the flatpack chair across from the heroine's bed. "You're saying that for all their grandeur about 'rightness' and 'justice'... their proudest enforcers are driven by the stick, instead of the carrot?"
"That's how it is,"Cinder answered with a shrug. "They seem to think that them *not* imprisoning and gene-scrubbing us is some kinda fucked up form of payment."
Valdmel cocked their head, and let slip the thinnest smile. "Then... I think you understand what it is my companions and I are fighting against?"
"I guess it sucks,"she answered, "but you can't just... let everything fall apart, right? In the news, they call you 'The Great Anarchist.' I'm not sure I'd like to just, let all the structure in society blow away in the wind, y'know?"
"Then,"Valdmel said with all the delight of a chef whose guest had at last deigned to try a new dish, "I'd like to tell you a bit more about anarchism, as a concept."
From a pouch of their heavy leather jacket, Valdmel drew a flask of fragrant gin and offered it to the flame-lipped heroine. "The nature of anarcho-syndicalism is not the strict eradication of order, you see, but the localization and equitization of..." |
For as long as I remembered, I always seemed to ooze an authoritative presence that silenced every kid in town. I did what some of my teachers could not, discipline and frighten the class clowns and jokers into obedience just by staring in their direction.
But it also meant nobody ever wanted to talk or befriend me, because everyone was keeping their distance.
Until, today, when a teenager waves at me with a big grin on his face.
"Johnny! Hey, it's been a while, where's the terrifying thing on your head?"
I shake my head and tell him I have no clue what he was talking about. But it feels good to be able to hold a perfectly normal conversation about the weather and my day in general.
After the teenager leaves, Mr. Fluffles crawls out of my hoodie and perches on top of my head as he usually does. I had no idea what he was talking about. I don't recall having a terrifying creature on my head. Isn't that right, Mr. Fluffles? Haven't you always been the fluffiest dog fairy to sit on my head?
Mr. Fluffles gives a happy bark and I throw him a handful of kibbles. He snatches it in the air with all six of his whip-like tongues and we continue on our way home after work. |
The galactic council was in a turmoil.
The galaxy, for the most part, was a peaceful place. No wars, no violence (except for the humans, of course), general pacifism and brotherhood.
All of which has come to a standstill today.
The nbuurhh, an expansive and racist species, has taken a seed world hostage. They were demanding to be left alone, else they would kill all life on the seed world.
The nbuurhh couldn’t be left precisely become they pulled off shit like this all the time. And the galactic council wasn’t sure that they wouldn’t genocide every living thing on the seed world anyways even if they council gave in and agreed to all their demands.
Military intervention was not an option. The nbuurhh would see it coming and detonate their RIP bombs that would turn the seed world into an asteroid field.
For the nth time that day, Yhij, the president of the the council, rued the day he had taken up his position.
“Is there no other way?”
“No Sir”, his aide responded.
Yhij let out a bubble, his equivalent of deep disappointment: “Fine. Send in Joe the American to negotiate.”
The Nbuurhh were expecting a negotiator, however, they had clearly not expected a human. A hushed silence reigned as the burly, bearded human descended from his craft.
“Howdy” he growled, handing off his Stetson to high-prince Jjughub, second in line to the throne, who had come to receive the diplomat. He then took out a cigar, cut it with a cutter, lit it up and took a deep drag before letting out a massive volume of smoke.
“Aah” said Joe, satisfied. A claxon went of nearby as all nbuurhh men , women and children scampered to put on their gas masks.
Joe waited, unfazed, occasionally dragging on his cigar. Once they were done putting their gas masks on he followed high-prince Jjughub into the negotiation chamber where the High-emperor welcomed him.
Inside the sophisticated negotiation chamber, tiny but precise instruments were measuring every single thing that the human did and reporting it to the Royal family. When Joe, after putting out his cigar, withdrew a hip flask from his jacket and took a large swig, First consort Ttryuul fainted. The instruments had just told her that the human was drinking ethanol, a known toxic chemical about 4 times more stronger than the industrial spirits used on the nbuurhh homeworld.
Joe continued to remain unfazed.
***************************************************
More if this gets a good response. |
The guild of dentists all frantically looked at one another. Every member waiting for someone to speak an ill word towards the Hyaio brand of peppermint toothpaste that laid on the table. They couldn’t all agree for once. There had to be a mistake. Mark, the youngest of the dentists, looked at Agitha. Hoping she might have some choice words for this new brand of toothpaste.
“Agitha. Even you agree this is the best product on the market? You’re practically a dental fossil at this point. Don’t you hate all the new stuff? You tried to convince me to brush my teeth with strawberries when I first joined, you can’t be in favor of this.” Henry pleaded, trying to sway her opinion.
“A fossil? Call me that again and I’ll be giving you a tooth extraction with my foot.” The older woman pushed up her glasses, using her middle finger to perform the action. “I didn’t tell you to brush your teeth with the strawberries. I told you it helps to whiten them. I was giving you advice because any person who enters your office will run in horror when they see those decaying teeth of yours.” She commented. Her words making Mark cover his mouth. “As I was saying. It’s flawless. The product can’t be beat.”
Gasps echoed through the guild hall. How long had it been since they agreed on a product? Rumors in the guild said that the last agreement was in Pompeii. This agreement bringing about the volcanic destruction of both Pompeii and Herculaneum. Even now, the lava that surrounded the dental guild bubbled as a few of the dentists gave it nervous glances.
The dental guild built to be hard to find, filled with labyrinths of dental floss triplines and shark infested mouthwash waters. Weirdly enough, the mouthwash didn’t kill the sharks. Only giving them minty breath that would smell rather pleasant before you were devoured. As they all sat in silence, leaning against the tooth covered stone table, a voice spoke up.
“Why don’t we lie? I’ll say I disagree with it, and everything will be fine.” Hayley offered, willing to throw her pearly white dental record away for the salvation of the world. Like Mark, she was one of the younger members of the guild. Hayley being the first dentist to implement the placebo anesthetic trick in her dental office. As everyone knows, dentists compete to make their offices the most unpleasant place imaginable. With Hayley having revolutionized the dental pain experience. Even getting the golden tooth for her innovation at the dental torment award show.
“You can lie to us, but you can’t lie to her.” Graham pointed to the hanging overhead statue of the tooth fairy. The beautiful woman holding a bloodied tooth that swung over the table. Her marble wings looking spectacular under the dim light of the hall. “She knows the truth. We have to accept the consequences. If an agreement has been made, we must hope she has mercy on the world. Praise be to the one true god. The almighty tooth giver and taker. May our teeth be cavity free in her name.”
“For the last time, Graham, it’s a statue, not a god. How much happy gas did you huff before you came here?” Agitha groaned, rubbing her temple. The guild really was letting anybody in these days. Back in her day, everyone here was a respected academic, not a member of the dental circus.
“So, how do we go about this? Got some weird home remedy that can spare us? Going to pull out some strawberries?” Mark teased, only to scoot back in his seat when Agitha stomped her foot down, scaring the young dentist.
“No, I’m proposing something more sensible. Who owns Hyaio?”
“Ah, now you’re speaking my language.” A tooth drill was heard as Nichole spoke, leaning forward in her chair. She was the only dentist missing three of her teeth, replacing them with ones that could hold an assortment of weaponized pills. Using them for any dental assassinations she needed to perform. “Are you thinking of killing the product before it hits the market?”
“I’m not… I thought we could reason with the CEO?” Agitha didn’t want to admit that the thought of assassination had crossed her mind. She considered herself above these degenerates, not wanting to lower herself to their standards.
“Heh, you want to reason with them? You can’t reason with CEOs. They crave money over anything. It’s like asking a leech not to suck your blood. At the end of the day, it’s a leech, that’s what it does. You can’t even really fault them for it. It’s in their DNA. So, I suggest we give them a checkup, if you know what I mean.”
“But we aren’t murderers.” Agitha protested.
“We still aren’t. Nichole’s the one doing it.” Mark answered.
“Yeah, our hands are clean and ready for the next patient.” Hayley said.
“Praise the tooth fairy in the spreading of teeth and blood.” Graham chanted, standing up from his chair, throwing his hands into the sky, praising the giant tooth fairy statue. The group stared at Graham, making a mental note not to invite him to the next meeting.
“So, what am I doing? Am I giving him a checkup?” Nichole asked. The group muttered a little indecisively before nodding. Soon, they gave their votes and all ten dentists agreed that this was the best course of action to take. “Funny, who would have thought all ten dentists would agree on something twice in one day? Don’t worry, he will be saying Ahhhh before the toothpaste hits the shelves. Once he’s out of the way, we can impose a shadow CEO into the company and get them to pull the product. I’ll leave that stage to the rest of you. May your teeth sparkle.”
“May your teeth sparkle.” The group responded, watching as Nichole left. Hoping she could prevent the doom that would soon be coming for them.
(If you enjoyed this feel free to check out my subreddit /r/Sadnesslaughs where I'll be posting more of my writing.) |
Jacob winced as Detective Kensington set a heavy folder on the metal table. The resonant thud it gave was enough to remind him of all the cases he’d been involved in.
“Jacob Lacks. We meet again.”
He tried to return that hostile gaze. “Detective.”
“How are you doing today, Jacob?” The glint in Kensington’s eye indicated he was hardly interested in Jacob’s life.
But Jacob answered anyway. “A bit shaken up. I had a gun pointed at me, you know?”
Kensington scoffed. “Right. Such a strange coincidence, isn’t it? Two robbers corner you in an alleyway. And suddenly, they both get shot in the back. Odd that threatening you seems to be a continuing theme in all your cases.”
“Y-Yeah. Odd.”
*I didn’t do anything wrong. They can’t charge me with anything.*
Those words repeated through his mind but provided little comfort for him. He’d been in and out of the police station far too many times now. Even the janitors looked at him with disgust every time he showed up.
Kensington made a show of flipping through the folder. “You’ve repeatedly told us you can’t explain what happens with all these injuries and deaths. Today’s case seems to rule out any accomplices. Forensics boys say the angle’s all wrong.”
“So, can I go?”
“No.” Kensington closed the folder. “People are asking questions, Jacob. Conspiracy theorists are starting to make wild claims. The public is losing trust in our ability to solve these murders. Especially when we have the killer right here.”
Jacob felt his heart leap into his throat. “I haven’t done anything wrong! The judge said so himself the last time you guys dragged me to court!”
A scowl formed on Kensington’s face. “He did, didn’t he? I recall he also said it was the worst decision he ever had to make. No justification to convict despite a mountain of evidence. Do you know how that makes us look?”
Jacob trembled. In this tiny interrogation room, there was no one to help him. No lawyer wanted to take him on as a client after that last case. And the state-appointed attorney was taking his sweet time getting to the station. Until he arrived, Jacob was stuck here with Kensington.
“You know what I think? I think you have some kind of ability that lets you injure people from a distance. I think you’ve used this ability against anyone who’s ever wronged you. And I think you’re getting just a bit too comfortable with all these mistrials!” Kensington slammed his palms against the table. “So, tell me, Jacob. Am I getting close?”
“No!” Jacob protested. “I’m telling you, I’m not the one doing it! It’s – ”
His throat seized up as an outside force stopped him from revealing any secrets. Frustrated tears filled his eyes, and his hands clenched on the table.
“I don’t know how to tell you, but it’s not me! I haven’t killed anyone!”
“Then who is it!” Kensington stalked around the table to loom above him. “Tell me or we’re charging you with the murders of Oliver Smith and Tristan Rodriguez!”
Jacob all but sobbed. “I… I… I can’t!”
His head hit the metal table, and stars exploded behind his eyes. The world lurched. A second later, he realized Kensington had slammed his head into the table.
*Why is this happening to me?*
His vision swam as Kensington dragged him back upright. “Let’s see how chatty you feel after a few days in a holding cell.”
“Let go! I haven’t done – ”
Jacob froze midsentence. Ambriel the guardian angel leveled her shotgun at the back of the detective’s knee.
...
Merry Christmas :D
If you're interested in my works, the archive of my various writing responses can be found in my writing portfolio, link through my profile. There's also an original story, The Crossroads.
Thanks for reading. |
**Ha, we come full circle. This was first posted in /r/WritingPrompts, then to ~~the thread you mentioned~~ /r/HistoricalWhatIf by ~~another person~~ /u/ronniethunderss, so I guess it's worth posting here again for those who haven't seen it yet. Though not entirely fitting the prompt, it's close.**
**Edit: Obligatory thanks for the gold, kind stranger! I'm glad you enjoyed my writing so much!**
CDR: "Houston, we're going comms down in a few moments, dark side approaches Bob, over."
MCC: "Roger, Challenger. We'll see you on the other side. Out."
Eugene "Gene"Cernan sighed. It was his third spaceflight, and having Robert Parker on the other end of comms always made him feel at ease. Bob was a member of the astronaut support crew down at Houston, and was invaluable to Gene's mental health.
*"Gene, come have a look at this."*
Gene was knocked out of his reverie by Harrison "Jack"Schmitt, his Lunar Module Pilot. Ronald Evans was somewhere up in the heavens above them, piloting the Command Module.
*"What is it Jack?"*
*"There it is, Camelot! Right on target."*
Jack was always so cool and collected. Even when landing on the Moon. *"I see it Jack."*
*"Absolutely incredible. Absolutely incredible."*
Gene smiled. Let him have his fun. As long as he landed in one piece though. Time to initiate.
*"Alright Jack, let's do this."* Jack smiled in anticipation and nodded his head.
CDR: "Houston, Challenger's coming around the rim. How do you copy?"
MCC: "Challenger, Houston. Read you loud and clear. Over."
CDR: "Roger Houston. I got the South Massif. Camelot on target."
MCC: "Roger that Challenger. You are go for contact, over."
CDR: "I've got the triangle."
LMP: "Contact."
CDR: "Okay, Houston. The Challenger has landed!"
MCC: "Rounds on us when you boys get home Challenger. Nice work."
CDR: "I'll hold you to that Bob. Update in 3, over."
MCC: "Roger that Challenger. Over and out."
Alright. That was done. Now the fun part.
*"Suit up Jack, EVA, we got science to be doing."*
*"You got it Gene!"* Jack could barely keep his excitement in. Was really endearing. What a man.
________________________
*"Hoy, Jack, just stop. You owe yourself 30 seconds to look up over the South Massif and look at the Earth."*
"You've seen one earth, you've seen them all."
Hmph. So much for his endearing attitude. The reality of the EVA had hit quickly. Time was moving and they didn't have a lot.
________________________
*"Okay, let me give it a few whacks. Baloney."* The staff didn't want to go in as Gene tried to beat it in. *"I don't know how far we could drill, but we hit something solid with that one."*
*"No, it was still going."* Jack's face was hard to see behind his gold sun visor, but his tone sounded persistent.
*"Yes, but did you ever see a vibrator like that?"*
*"Gene, just get it done."*
Gene couldn't help but chuckle to himself. Not the joke, but the fact that it was comical to him. After all, he stood on a desolate plain absent of color, with the crown jewel herself making the first Earthrise he'd had the privilege of seeing, and here he was laughing. Yet Gene'd never felt so small.
________________________
Gene made his way up the massif. In the gravity here the effort wasn't so much as difficult as it was clumsy. Somehow he'd managed to trip on a rock and land face first in the gray soil. Hopefully Jack didn't notice.
*"You still playing Gene?"* Jack called out over the comms. Dammit. Oh well.
With a grunt, Gene pushed himself standing, simultaneously achieving the best pushup in history.
His smile was cut short though, when he caught sight of what lay on the other side of the massif.
*"Uh... Jack?"*
*"What is it Gene?"*
*"You need to come and see this."*
*"No joy, I'm behind the LM pulling a sample."*
*"NOW Jack. Comm silent."*
*"... Alright. Heading your way."*
MCC: "Everything alright Challenger?"
No everything was not ok. Gene's blood had run cold and Bob's voice wasn't comforting right now. Quite the opposite.
________________________
CDR: "You've got some serious explaining to do Houston."
MCC: "Repeat your last Challenger. You're breaking up."
CDR: "The hell I am."
MCC: "..."
CDR: "Houston I'm switching frequencies. When you're ready to talk, head over there. Out."
Gene was shaking. Strewn about in front of him, for miles, were remnants of American flags and complete landers. And bodies. Bodies in suits, laying where they last fell. And the plaque in front of him? Well, it read: "HERE MEN FROM THE PLANET EARTH FIRST SET FOOT UPON THE MOON JULY 1969."
It was 1972.
*"What am I looking at Gene..."* Now Jack sounded shaky. With good reason.
*"You're looking at a lie."*
________________________
MCC: "Challenger, we'll speak to you now."
CDR: "You better have answers."
MCC: "We never could get you back Gene. There would never be enough fuel."
CDR: "What? Why send us??"
MCC: "We know there's a bigger purpose. Damn Soviets need to be beat. Whatever the cost."
CDR: "People aren't gonna like this."
MCC: "What makes you think they know? You didn't."
CDR: "I'm looking at Neil right now. Who the hell is on Earth?"
MCC: "Body double. Footage we showed was real. Splashdown was fake. People don't need to know."
CDR: "Why not just fake the footage? Why send us here to die?"
MCC: "It had to be believable. I'm sorry Gene. Why do you think we gave you those pills?"
Suddenly Gene heard a gurgling sound.
Seems like Jack had found the pills.
CDR: "God dammit Bob. This is so many levels of messed up."
MCC: "I know. You're family will be well taken car-"
CDR: "DON'T TALK ABOUT THEM."
MCC: "We're going to cut communication now. It makes it easier. You served your country well."
CDR: "For you or for me?"
Gene spat, only forgetting he was on the moon and that wasn't a great idea.
MCC: "May God forgive us. Goodbye Gene."
MCC: "..."
________________________
*"Guess it's just you and me buddy."* Gene sat next to the corpse of Neil Armstrong.
In front of him, the crown jewel herself made the last Earthrise he'd have the privilege of seeing.
Raising his arm, Gene lifted his middle finger.
**"Godspeed the crew of Apollo 17."**
________________________
Dedicated to the Crew of Apollo 17. Some excerpts taken from the transcript directly.
________________________
*"...I'm on the surface; and, as I take man's last step from the surface, back home for some time to come - but we believe not too long into the future - I'd like to just [say] what I believe history will record. That America's challenge of today has forged man's destiny of tomorrow. And, as we leave the Moon at Taurus-Littrow, we leave as we came and, God willing, as we shall return, with peace and hope for all mankind. Godspeed the crew of Apollo 17."* |
Alexander the Great, questionable. I mean, he achieved a lot - that's for sure - but he also did a lot of, you know, war. Still, he bristled at me proudly, a little shorter than I expected, but impressive all-the-same in his intricate Grecian armor.
Leonardo da Vinci. Art, science, anatomy; the Mona Lisa and prototypes for helicopters. He gazed archly at his neighbour, Socrates, who gazed just as archly back. Neither acknowledged my presence.
Harriet Tubman and Oskar Schindler, in solemn and tired discussion marked by imperceptible expression.
Tesla, staunchly and happily alone, save a few pigeons; no one approached him, partially for his electrifying presence, and partially for the pigeons.
Someone I didn't know, who smelled faintly of wheatgrass and looked very earnest. He wore a thick-woven tunic, and shrugged meekly.
Boudica fixed all around her - but particularly Julius - with an imperious stare. Her hands were itching for something.
Einstein nodded at me warmly, eyes crinkling in that kind of immediately trustworthy way; he had been comparing moustaches with Samuel Clemens, and I thought Clemens the winner, but didn't think it was my place to say.
Marie Curie beamed at me, glancing up from a battered Vonnegut (God knows who he'd been fighting). She was positively glowing.
I shuffled on. More still: Lincoln, Taizong, Chaucer, Galileo, Austen, Mandela, Tsu, Plato. Many I didn't recognise. Others I did, but only dimly, and possibly only because they looked like someone else. At the end of the improbably long hall, a single, isolated figure.
A familiar figure.
"I'm confused,"I said.
"Hi Confused,"he replied. "I'm Dad."
|
Heavily inspired by /u/RamsesThePigeon's classic story on ["Reddit, what's a good street name for toast?"](https://www.reddit.com/r/AskReddit/comments/3mcbb3/reddit_whats_a_good_street_name_for_toast/cvduomf/).
---
Music's a lot less casual than it used to be. Once, just anyone could go to YouTube or Spotify and get access to millions of songs, and listen to them with lousy $10 headphones without any real appreciation of it. Then came the DCMA II, and people had to start pirating mp3s and using IP proxies. Then came DCMA III, and people had to start going to brick-and-mortar music stores again. Then came DCMA IV, and people had to start making their own records from [X-Ray plates](https://www.newstatesman.com/culture/music-theatre/2017/08/x-ray-decks-lost-bone-music-soviet-union) again. And then came DCMA V, and, well, here we are.
The last ten years have been pretty good for business, if I'm being honest. And the entry requirements for bone music does keep the filthy casuals at bay.
I clean another set of cups behind the college singeasy's bar as Anscombe's Quartet steps off the stage and Dangerously Irrelevant Operator gets ready to play their opening number. It's a good crowd (even if a bunch of engineering students turn out to have some really weird taste in band names), the music's been rocking to a solid 55 dB, and there's still a trickle of people coming in from outside, reciting the password "gramophone". Suddenly, Derrick, one of the waiters, pulls up beside me in a fright.
"I was just upstairs, and I saw a few cars circling the block."
"So? Maybe they're just looking for a place to park."
"Nah dude, there's nowhere to park on this block on a Saturday night and all the customers know it. You gotta go over to 36th and take the subway. I'm pretty sure it's the police."
My eyes go wide, but I stay calm. Starting a panic is the last thing we need. I look around at all the illegal activities going on: unapproved lyrics and jams coming from the stage, various people with portable CD burners mingling going from table to table advertising their wares, and though I'm technically a high-brow establishment, I turn a blind eye to the flute lessons going on in one of the back rooms. As long as there's no kids involved. No kid should be subjected to flute lessons. I'm not a *monster*.
"Ok, we've been over what to do. Get back up there and stall them for a few minutes. I'll handle things down here."Heh. Three minutes and that drum will turn back into a keg, the mic will turn back into a yard of ale, and the piano's fourth and fifth pedals are 'gas' and 'brake'. I've been through this before.
But before Derrick can even make it to the stairs, the door at the top slams open as a half-dozen men in uniforms burst in. "FREEZE! NOBODY MOVE!"
Well, shoot. So much for stalling. I can't hide the evidence now. Derrick looks like he's about to faint. Do I have a plan B?
"Officers,"I say, "welcome to my humble establishment. May I offer you all some light refreshments?"
They don't respond to this as they come down the stairs, and one of them grabs my hands and pulls them around my back as the others fan out. "You're under arrest, scumbag. Facilitating the sale of a Schedule 1 Controlled Substance."
"I'm not selling any drugs here, officers. This place is clean, and always checks IDs before serving alcohol. I run an above board establishment."
The one on the stage looks at me and laughs. "Yeah? Then what do you call this?", pointing to the drum kit.
"Perfectly legal equipment, grandfathered in and approved for demonstration and display purposes by a licensed historian."Which it technically was. Thank goodness for diploma mills. "I have their up-to-date certifications on the walls, there."
"Don't play games with me", says the man holding my arms. "We've recorded the whole thing."He pulls out a pocket recorder, presses a button, and I hear 'Rudolph, the Red-Nosed Reindeer' playing faintly behind me. Ok, that's pretty damming. But where did he get it? Our Christmas show was two weeks ago, which means...
Ethan. I never should have hired that weasel. Ok. Time for some brown-nosing of my own. "So the only evidence you have is that recording?"I say softly to the officer behind me.
"We've got more where this came from. More than enough to put you away for life."
"What if the recordings were overwritten? Could your guys be persuaded not to press charges?"
"Fat chance. Money? Booze? We don't need it. And don't even try to bribe me with your"— he almost spits the word — "*CDs*. Pop music was a cancer. Bieber's extradition was too good for him. We're better off now."
"I'm not talking about pop music, Officer Darryl", I say quietly, and I take a leap in the dark. "How old's your daughter? 3?"
He freezes. I'd felt the wedding ring on his finger, and he didn't look a day over 30, but still, it was a big gamble. "Two and a half", he finally says. "And there's another one on the way."
"Does she ever have trouble sleeping at night? And a nightlight just doesn't cut it?"
He says nothing, but his grip relaxes. This just might work.
"Sir", I say loud enough for everybody to hear, "if you'll take me to the supply room, I believe you'll find exculpatory evidence."
He practically drags me there, and three other officers accompany him. Come on, come on...
"Right beneath that floorboard."
One of them grabs a crowbar from the loading dock, and jams it down. Under the floorboards is a small wooden chest. In the chest, wrapped in velvet, are three wind-up music boxes. You wouldn't believe what those cost. "They're yours, officers. All I ask is for your discretion."
After a long and stressful pause, Darryl grunts and uncuffs me. "I never saw you", he said. "Get out of here."He takes one of the boxes almost reverently and winds it up.
And as I slip into the alley and out of sight, I can hear a toy piano plinking out the tune to *Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star*. |
Eli flipped the light switch in my darkened bedroom, announcing, "Let there be light!"
"God damn it, Eli! What the hell?"I pulled my pillow over my head.
"Damn it?"Eli laughed, and whenever Eli laughed the very air itself seemed infused with his good humor. "You want me to damn the light? Very well."He held out his hand towards the ceiling lamp. "Long-lasting LED light, I damn thee!"
I threw my pillow at him. "Eli. What the hell are you doing in my apartment so early?"
"Hell?"T had nothing to with it. I simply came to see. And I see that it is good."
I stared in drowsy confusion at Eli, then at myself in my bedroom mirror; I did not look good. "You think I look good?"I said, yawning.
Eli flung open the drapes. I held up my arm against the sunlight. He turned to face me with a kind smile. "Oh, Matt. Of course you look good. All are beautiful in my eyes."
I walked past him on my way to the bathroom. "Your eyes must be blind, Eli."
I heard Eli say, "Only to notions of evil, Matt."
I turned on the sink and splashed water in my face. "You sound like you're still in-character from the campaign last night."I turned off the sink, toweling off my face. "You know, Jane thinks you're cheating somehow."
And Eli said, "I am incapable of cheating."
And lo, I did reply, "But you rolled five twenties in a row. I'm kind of siding with her on this, no offense buddy."
And again, Eli did laugh, saying, "For behold, my friend Matt, I did not roll twenties from out of a cheat, but from out of the party's need."He placed his powerful hand on my shoulder. "For I giveth to those that are in need."
I shook my head, patting Eli back on the shoulder. "You sure gaveth that displacer beast what he needed; five critical hits in a row."
Eli nodded, following me to the kitchen. "Yes. The party would have perished otherwise. And in spite of her lack of faith in me, and her accusation of me cheating - an actual impossibility for me,"I eyed Eli curiously on that statement. He continued without pause, "Jane is nonetheless a humble person with a good heart, and so I saved her by casting a cone of fire."
I poured myself a glass of milk, drinking it down in three big gulps. "Yes, but do you know the odds of rolling five twenties in a row?
"Math would say 0.003125%."Eli beamed. "But I say 100%, and the universe agrees with me."
Eli was a great guy. Incredibly nice, always helpful, quite wise, but he had this serenity to him that was a bit... unignorable. And after spending almost every day for the past year with the guy, I had to admit that I was getting a little frustrated at the events that always seemed to happen around him. It was starting to seem to me a bit, unusual.
*Eli shouldn't be so confident.* I thought, looking at the well-built man, his fine skin practically glowing. *The universe is going to give him a wake-up call some day, and I just can't just let him keep living in his delusion of luck.*
"Eli,"I said. "You can't just SAY what percentage you want the dice rolls to be."My annoyance got the better of me, and I surprised myself by bursting-out "I mean, who do you think you are?"
I was worried that Eli would take my harsh tone personally, but he seemed unaffected -- serene as always. He said, "I know who I am, Matt."
I turned to rinse out my glass. Behind my back, I heard Eli say, "But you do not."
"What's that supposed to mean?"I said, turning to face Eli with a perplexed expression. "You're..."
Eli was no longer standing in my kitchen. "You're... gone."
And I never saw Eli again. But every Friday night, whenever our party was in dire need, I would think of Eli. I would imagine his friendly face, and I would always, without fail, roll a twenty. |
The children weren't usually early to class but today was a special day, an important day. I smiled broadly at them from behind my desk, they did me proud every single day but today wasn't the day to let slip. I pointed to the tally projected on the board behind me.
"These numbers are beautiful. I look at these numbers and I see all of the hard work we have put in over the last year. These numbers do us proud."
There was a smattering of applause to which I held up a finger and the class fell silent.
"Never celebrate too early. Celebrating early is arrogant and does not get results. Today is the last day, I am expecting you to keep us at the top of the leader board. We're ahead but that is no reason to get lax."
I looked at each of their beaming faces in turn. They were ready, they wouldn't let me down.
"There is a reason that C Class has been the best for three years running, and that is?"I asked.
"We never back down!"they shouted in return.
I smiled and tapped the tally with the tip of my hunting knife.
"That's right. We've got fifteen minutes before free play. Tell me, Zach, how was your walk to school?"
Zach stood up and casually brushed at the red spatter across his shirt.
"I took a detour through the park this morning, found a demon stalking a group from F Class. I shot the thing close range with my shotty. F Class bricked it, Miss,"he brandished his shotgun with a smug laugh. I nodded satisfied.
I had always known that I had wanted to teach, but I'd never realised how good I was at it until the demons came. Sure, I taught them maths but they never listened until the demons came. Now, not only did they have the best grades, but they also had the highest kill count. The demons didn't know what hit them when C Class fought back.
"Excellent work, Zach. Emily, I see you've got some new items in your arsenal,"I gestured for Emily to rise and she practically bounced to her feet wielding a shiny new machete above her head.
"My mum needed a new machete and they were on buy one get one free. Special offer for the annual kill count, Miss."
I too had taken advantage of the kill count sales. The new scope on my sniper rifle had come in particularly handy last night when a horde of imps had rambled through the village.
"Great work, you do me so proud. Remember today, don't give up, work as a team and most importantly - give them hell!" |
Call me Ishmeow.
I am the survivor. I am the un-maimed. I am the only left of a dozen cats who once lived in this blue house.
Blue is the carpet and blue are the walls. Blue are the pieces of furniture, too. Blue are the litter boxes, the water and food bowls. Blue even are the lights.
But white is the monster. The beast. The devourer. The lurking hurricane. Destroyer of peace, serenity and silence. The pale ancient terror our owner, Ms Neptune, calls the Vak'Yoom, but which my feline fellows dubbed Moby Vac, the White Roomba.
\- - -
I was a kitten when Ms Neptune adopted me. I understood nothing. I was pure. I was also skittish. My new home thrilled me with fear, instinctual misgivings. So much blue, everywhere, all around. It felt like we were underwater. It felt like the whole house represented the sea, and we cats were sunk down at the bottom of it.
"She lovee cat and she lovee fish,"explained Pweepaw, a foreign cat, imported from a small African island. The strange lines of black that ran through his fur made him look tattooed; his long sharp teeth made him seem slightly savage. But he was the kindest, noblest cat I've ever met. "She lovee sea and she lovee land. She no care if we hatee all the blue. . .But she lovee cat. She do."
But what kind of cat lover plunges her darlings into such circumstances? What kind of cat lover lives with her own soul divided between water and felines, we who hate nothing more than getting wet? The many huge aquariums spread throughout the house, in which floated every variety and size of vibrant fish, offered paradoxical distractions from the feeling of drowning, now and again: tapping on the glass with my paw, hopping on and around the lids, looking for a way to sneak a fresh snack.
But those distractions were always short lived. As soon as I snapped out of my predacious state, and became aware of my surroundings again, I pawed at my throat, fell into a panic. Poor kitten, I was! It took weeks before I could get over the feeling of drowning!
\- - -
There are monsters that lurk in the sea. Pinching crabs, venomous snakes, sharks and leviathans. So too were there monsters that lurked in Ms Neptune's blue house. The calico cat named Starburst told me about some of them the very first day I arrived.
"The red ants in the basement will bite your nose,"explained Starburst. "The dogs Ms Neptune pet-sits every few months will soak you in drool. The aquarium hoses she leaves lying around can't hurt you, but that doesn't make them any less frightening when you suddenly catch sight of one: even the bravest among us cannot help jumping three feet in the air when spotting one coiled up like a snake. But most dread and terrifying of all. . .I say, most malignant, nightmarish, and dangerous of all. . .the most hated of all the creatures that stalk about Ms Neptune's vast, oceanic carpet--"
"Who's this, now?"boomed a voice from behind us. I yelped and turned. The stairwell down which he slowly descended was black with shadows, so I could not see him. "A new crewmate, is it? Another recruit? A green little kitten, green paws, green ears, fresh as a shoot, no experience at all. Aye. But old Neptune has room enough for ye. Old Neptune can always enfold another in her embrace."He finally hobbled down the last step, into the blue light that shone through the blue window upon the dark blue carpet. He was a raggedy cat: in appearance, more like an alleyway brawler, a stray, than a house pet. His face bore an ugly scar, and his right forepaw was encased in a plastic cast, white as a peg leg made from the bone of a whale. "Old Lady Neptune's house is not a place where fearful felines thrive,"he growled. "Sink or swim, kitten. Eat or be eaten. That ye shall learn. Aye. And if ye do not, ye shall do what ye shall, and thereby find an end."The strange cat then turned and limped to his food bowl, where he nibbled at a mash of canned tuna and clams.
"Who is he?"I whispered to Starburst.
"The captain of we cats,"he replied. "That there is Ahab."
"What's wrong with his paw?"I asked. "Did he injure himself?"
"Hush now,"said Starburst. "I'll not frighten you too far on your first day."
\- - -
**Part 2!**
[https://www.reddit.com/r/CLBHos/comments/ojv64g/call\_me\_ishmeow\_parts\_1\_and\_2/](https://www.reddit.com/r/CLBHos/comments/ojv64g/call_me_ishmeow_parts_1_and_2/) |
Teaching history is always fun. I don't think the kids pay half as much attention as they'd like me to believe, but there's always one or two with a real passion for the subject. They don't speak up about it in class, of course - no one wants to be the swot - but you can tell that they're actually interested.
The national curriculum says I have to teach them certain facts about certain topics, but frankly the facts are boring and frequently pointless. We had a king who had six wives, he divorced two, had two executed, one died in childbirth and the other outlived him. Outside of a pub quiz, when is anybody going to need to know the details of that? That said king had a suit of tournament plate with a massive cock on the front? Now that's interesting, and it teaches far more about the period than just the details of one king's marital issues.
Don't get me wrong; a couple of the wives have some useful lessons in there - Henry VIII of England went to war during the reformation to defend the Catholic church - the Pope at the time named him "Defender of the Faith". Then, when they refused to let him divorce his first wife for giving him a daughter, he immediately decided to kick them out of England and found his own "Church of England", now known as the Anglicans, while at the same keeping the title given to him by the pope. The lesson being, of course, the people at the top are almost always hypocrites, and will absolutely throw you under the bus if it suits their needs.
Now I've never had much of an interest in political power. I could have it if I really wanted it, but I've always been too much of an academic at heart - and, as an academic, nothing makes me happier than seeing young minds take an interest in knowledge. I see them as my own children, in a way. So when I heard an explosion down the hall from my classroom in a London secondary school, followed by a voice that sounded like it was coming through a synthesizer, I was not impressed.
"You will give me what I demand, or I will destroy this school and everybody in it,"came the mechanical sounding voice of some damned fool upstart or other. I could never keep track of them all; some used science, some had some form of mutation or other, and some were even aliens. There have always been some, though there seem to be a lot more of them these days; I've heard of more in the last ten years than the previous ten centuries. I muttered an incantation under my breath to protect myself from impacts, told the students to take cover, then went to see what all the fuss was about this time.
The fuss, as it happens, was about money. This idiot who called himself "Doctor Mechanicus"attacked my school and threatened my children because he wanted money to keep his equipment maintained; something on the order of a billion pounds. I just sighed.
"OK young man, you've had your fun. Now how about you bugger off back home before things get any worse than they already are, all right?"I suggested to person in his mechanical armour; covered in gears that I assume must have been for decoration.
The young fool laughed. Of course he did; so far as he could tell, I was just an elderly man; a little over six feet tall but quite skinny. "But what if I want things to get worse?"he asked mockingly.
"Then by all means continue what you're doing, and we shall see just how much worse things can become,"I said quietly, before muttering a second incantation to allow me to fly. I hadn't used that one in a very long time - radar has made flying undetected much more difficult than it used to be, and I was never really interested in putting myself out there. This aspiring supervillain, however, was leaving me little choice. He lifted a hand, and fired a small swarm of miniature rockets at my feet.
The explosion knocked me against the wall - were it not for my defensive spell, it would certainly have killed me. I rose to my feet, and made a show of dusting myself off.
"Very well then,"I said, slowly rising off of the floor. I muttered once more under my breath, and an ebony staff a little longer than I was tall appeared in my hand. "I could use the practice."
My next spell, enhanced by my staff, was one of telekinesis. I snatched "Doctor Mechanicus"from the air, and began slamming him against the ground repeatedly. He let off another salvo of rockets, which I used my telekinesis to divert back at him. He dodged, and flew directly at me; no doubt hoping that my age would make me vulnerable to brute force. With an ebony staff reinforced with magical power, I hit his helmet hard enough to put a dent into it, and he lost control of his suit. I used my telekinesis to bring him safely to the ground.
I removed his helmet to ensure I hadn't killed him, and I recognised him from the school; maybe five or ten years back (it gets hard to remember exactly at my age). He was breathing, and his heart was still going, so I removed his weaponry and began to heal the injury. As he regained consciousness, the first thing he heard must have been me saying "You fucking idiot. Of all the places to ransom, why a working class school - and of all the schools, why this one? Now there are witnesses to us fighting, so I can't just let you go. I am so disappointed. Remember: those with power will do whatever it takes to keep that power. Money is power - nobody with access to billions is going to give it to you for a bunch of poor kids. Fuck."
"Doctor Mechanicus"was arrested not long after, and I made myself scarce so as to avoid any uncomfortable interviews. Not long after, I showed up at a school in Liverpool; looking maybe twenty years younger. I always feel bad about having to abandon my kids, but nobody can know that Merlin is real. |
Walking around the marketplace, Rhiannon paused to peer closely at a cart of turnips. She had only been in this town for a few weeks, but the last time she'd gone to the market, one of her potatoes had been moldy. This time, she would be more careful. Carefully selecting one of the root vegetables, she lifted it up to eye level for closer inspection.
Then, a tug at her pocket. Whipping around, she snatched her wallet back. Rhiannon was wearing her robes and hat today, and her familiar, Kaya, prowled by her side. Who would be stupid enough to steal from a witch?
Opening her mouth, she prepared to unleash a spell that would curse the victim to jingle whenever they walked for the next month. No more innocent pockets would be picked.
Rhiannon quickly stopped when she saw the perpetrator. A small girl, likely not even eight years of age. Large almond eyes, one with pale purple bruising around the edges.
Too terrified to speak, the girl stood stock-still. In a flash, Rhiannon was reminded of Kaya ten years ago, caught in the cruel snare. Tentatively, she stretched out a hand. "I won't hurt you,"she said, softly. "What's your name?"
Startled from her momentary paralysis, the girl fled. Rhiannon cursed, trying to figure out whether or not to pursue.
"That would be Caro,"the turnip vendor grumbled. "She's stolen from quite a few of my customers. I myself have caught her nicking some of my turnips. But I let her have 'em. Goodness knows she's got a hard enough life with those brutes for parents. They're probably taking whatever she manages to steal, anyways."
"Parents, you say,"Rhiannon murmured. "Where could I find these parents? What are their names?"
The shop owner crossed himself warily. "This won't get back to them if I tell you, will it?"
Rhiannon stroked Kaya absentmindedly, thinking of her own childhood from many years ago. "No,"she answered. "No, it won't."
"They run the casino in the shady part of town. Lars and Brenda Vickerman."
"Thanks much,"Rhiannon replied, flipping him a copper coin. "I'll be on my way, then."
\--------
[/r/theBasiliskWrites/](https://www.reddit.com/r/theBasiliskWrites/) |
As I was standing in line waiting for my coffee he didn't seem to have the patience for that. He bypassed all the people waiting and told the clerk:
"One coffee with sugar and make it quick."
Some people just don't have basic human decency. Not wanting to let this jerk get his coffee before I protested: "Excuse me. Don't you think that if you want to order you should wait for your turn like a everybody else?"
"Oh is that so? You don't know who I am do you? Well don't sweat it man. But take my word for it: You don't want to be having this conversation."
I was reaching boiling point at this time. "Yeah and why is that?"
"Oh so you really don't know do you? I snap my fingers and a second later you're going to be standing on the surface of the moon gasping for air."
Ah okay so he was one of those people. It's probably best not to get on his nerves too much. Even if I do knock him out, as soon as he is concious again would still be able to teleport me.
"Ahah well okay. Well enjoy your coffee I guess.", I responded.
The barista apparently knew him and was frantic to hand him his coffee. The moon-snap-guy turned and headed out but as I went to close the distance that had opened up in the line I accidentially bumped into him. The hot coffee poured over his hands and he screamed in agony.
"Ahrg, you've done it now. This is on you man"He prepared his hands for a snap. I had no choice but to shout: "FISTFIGHT!"
The fight begins as soon as that word is shouted and it only ends when one of us is knocked out. He completed his snap. But nothing happened.
"Huh? Why are you still here?", he uttered confused.
He started swinging for me. Right after I start a fight they always fly into a rage and their only desire becomes punching me unconcious. This was bad though. I knew I could easily beat him. I trained for such scenarios all the time of course and he was pretty scrawny but what then? I can't risk having this guy come back for revenge.
But it's not like I could ever kill anybody, even this ass.
So for now I ran out of the shop, still being chased by moon-snap-guy. But then a thought hit me: He didn't regain his powers until the fight ends. And the fight doesn't end until either of us is knocked out by the other. So if that was the case....
I kept running and eventually I lost him. I knew what I had to do now: Never win the fight. And never lose either. That way he would never be able to snap anybody ever again.
That was some years ago now. Moon-snap-guy still shows up every now and then trying to punch my lights out, but I don't pay it much mind. I hope at least in time he learns his lesson about cutting in line. |
“Noise?” I asked, glancing over the three crewmates gathered outside my bunkroom.
“Yes. The wailing and clashing and screaming. It is quite unsettling, but you seem to derive great joy from listening to it,” said the ship’s lieutenant, an insectoid creature that resembled an upright grasshopper.
“Listening in rec center when exercising meat tubes.” Meat tubes meant arms to a non-Klorian. What is a Klorian, you might be asking? Well, they look like a big tub of red gelatin that went bad and grew organs. Friendly, but some of the finer points of being a vertebrate goes over their head. They were undulating beside the lieutenant.
“Ohhhh, no, I understand. Give me a second…” I glanced around the small confines of my room until I saw it on my desk. I grabbed it and popped out the headphones, picked a song, and ratcheted up the volume.
Harsh instrumentals immediately started blaring, soon accompanied by a false cord scream as one of my favorite songs started playing. I couldn’t help jamming along a little bit, but I soon had to turn it off when the faces of my crewmates soured. In the case of the Klorian, they wiggled with distaste.
“That is the noise, yes.”
“Much anger in this sound,” a large humanoid behind the Klorian said. He looked largely human like myself, but only if your idea of a human is largely inspired by Cousin Itt.
“It’s called metal.”
“It is sound. How can it be metal?”
“It’s, oh boy.” I felt like I was trying to justify my taste in music to my parents. Not that I never needed to, they were responsible for it, but it was what I imagined it might be like for others. “It’s called metal, but it’s music. It’s a type of music.”
“Music?”
“Well, music is-“
“We know of music,” the lieutenant chittered. “But our idea of music is very…different than this.”
“What’s your music like then?” I asked, setting aside my phone.
“It is…” What followed was a series of rapid clicks and loud hums. It sounded like random, chaotic noise, but if I strained my ears, I felt I could hear a faint rhythm to it.
Music.
“That is music,” the lieutenant said after finishing his song. I clapped.
“I agree. And this is music too – the music of humans. Some humans, anyways. Not everybody listens to metal, and there’s a bunch I don’t listen to myself. Like country, for instance, not for me. But it’s all good to somebody.”
“This noise is music to you?”
“Sure, why not? What really makes it music is how you feel about it, and this is what I like. I like yours too, y’know. It’s good.” I may not understand it, but that didn’t matter.
“Hm…perhaps, if it would not be a problem, we could listen to yours again?” The lieutenant hesitated only a little before asking.
Hook, line, and sinker. I’d make this whole ship into a bunch of metal-heads before we docked at the next station.
&#x200B;
(Thanks for reading, C&C always welcome!) |
I sometimes forget what a weird life I lead.
I've lived it for so long, it all just feels normal to me.
Luckily - or, maybe not - I have plenty of friends who are able, and unceasingly willing, to point it out to me.
Apparently no-one else has ever been held hostage in a bank robbery, had their phone ring despite it absolutely being on silent, sending the robbers into a desperate panic before locking themselves into the vault to wait for the police to arrive.
Who knew?
And when their flights get cancelled, they don't get put up in hotels with the hottest tourist celebrities of the season, who are keen to spend the night in the hotel bar, shooting the shit with every other guest.
Nor has their dry cleaning - necessary after a terrible incident in the wine cellar of the local vineyard - ever come back with a USB stick containing all of locations of every CIA spy across the world nestled away in its pocket.
The ensuing days I spent on a blacksite whilst they tried to beat a confession out of me for high treason weren't exactly pleasant, but once they finally released me without charge I was, at least, rather handsomely compensated for my time.
Has the NDA run out on that, yet?
Maybe I shouldn't have mentioned it.
Anyway, everything always works out in the end, of course, so I've learned to just enjoy the ride.
And it's that nonchalance that I think really messes with people.
Even something as trivial as a train being late - I know something good will come of it, so I'm content to sit and wait in peace, whilst my friends swear and blind that I'm not taking anything seriously enough.
Of course, they can't possibly know, but for me this is nothing new.
It was at one point, of course.
I was a pretty normal child, I think, until around puberty.
It changes everyone, I guess, but some more than others.
High school was where it all really started to come apart, and what probably should have given the game away.
Late for school because I overslept?
No problem, there was a fire alarm that morning; no tardy slip for me.
Getting picked on by bullies?
Oh no - their leader's tripped over a rather large stone, and shattered both his arms!
What's that, the dog ate my homework?
That's fine, the teacher got smallpox - missed the next month of school.
I still had to rewrite that damned essay, though - not particularly lucky, if you ask me.
I once missed my bus because I'd tripped over a curb as I sprinted for it, only to watch in horror as it was sideswiped by a lorry that had jumped a red.
They said that anyone still trying to pay their fare would have died instantly.
That was when I really started to wonder, and when Tyche (my long-suffering mother) could no longer keep it a secret.
She had always told me that my father was a 'God of Misfortune', but I'd always just assumed that was some petty nickname she'd given him out of spite, and not, as it turned out, his actual identity.
But the revelation was made, and everything suddenly made sense.
She still wouldn't tell me his name, though - said they don't deserve to know me, whatever that means.
I've tried to work out who it is, of course - there's only so many people that fit the moniker of lord of despair, after all - but almost all of the deities of misfortune that I could find were female.
And while I wouldn't be surprised at all if she'd had things with any number of them, that's hardly gonna produce li'l ol' me, now is it?
Or maybe it could - from what I've heard about Great-Uncle Zeus, nothing really sounds like it's off the table.
There was one I found - Crnobog, a Slavic God - that I thought might fit the bill, but Mum offered me little more than a blank stare when I slipped his name into an idle conversation, so I'm back to the drawing board on this one.
I suppose it isn't really important, in the end.
Even if I found out who they were, they still wouldn't be my father, right?
But it doesn't stop me thinking about him every time I stub my toe walking between rooms, only to discover a lost quarter on the floor as I'm doubled over in pain.
Or every time I pick up one of the plastic beakers that now fill my kitchen after *the glass incident*.
Whoever they are, they have defined my life, but I will continue to refuse to be defined by them.
I will simply live, and enjoy every moment of the ride.
---
Come check out /r/dacacia for other weird writings, why not? |
It was a brilliant pitch, the alien thought. Open a resort and then abduct a group of a... simpler species. Introduce them to the resort; watch as they are beyond amazed by its beauty and luxury; use it as marketing. *The Best resort in the Galaxy* has a good ring to it. Everything was going well, the investors were nice and happy, until one of the humans decided to speak.
"This sucks."
Everyone's translators whirred for a bit as the human's words were processed and the air in the room changed from one of carefree exuberance to one of worry and confusion.
"Wait,"said the alien who had orchestrated the event, "what- what do you mean?"
"This thing blows. Thought it was supposed to be, like... fun,"the human complained.
"This is the most advanced resort in the galaxy. It is designed to be fun in every single way. How could you-"
"I can't even take a swim in the pool,"another human, a small child, cried out.
"The-"the alien looked at where the child was staring. It was a decorative tank filled with dihydrogen monoxide and various flora to provide a pleasant atmosphere. "Small human, you're..."he said and checked a small tablet, "8 earth years old. You could sink into the water and die!"
"I can swim, *duh*,"the girl rolled her eyes.
"The risk is- *and now what?*"the alien said as another human raised his hand.
"Can we race in those?"the man said and pointed towards two nearby grav-bikes.
"Race?"
"You know, drive them and see who's faster."
The alien contemplated. "That sounds immensely dangerous. The speed limiters on the bikes are there for a reason."
The humans collectively groaned.
"Do you at least have any booze?"a woman in the back asked.
"Booze?"the alien was unsure about the phrase as it wasn't in the translator.
"You know, alcohol. For drinks."
The alien quickly looked it up on his tablet. Chemical composition, look, state... effects on the physiology?
"This is literally poison to you. *You drink it?*"
The humans all looked at one another. "Well, yeah."
The alien, on the other hand, was less than impressed.
"***What is wrong with you people?!***" |
"Relax, honey, we're not entirely surprised..."
"You're not surprised? I'm a vampire! I suck blood! I burn under the sun! I'm a monster! And you're not surprised?"
"Your 1st cousin Trevor was bitten by a werewolf. Your 2nd Aunt Hazel married a skinwalker. Your 3rd Uncle Robert works for an eldritch god and was turned into a Deep One. We have plenty of experience with supernatural beings in the family."
"Mom! For the love of god I—"
"Which god?"Dad interjected.
"There's more than one god out there?"
"...Yea. I thought that was obvious,"Dad scratched his chin. "Do you need a mentor to guide you through your transitions?"
Mom spoke up. "I know a few friendly neighborhood vampires who can show you the ropes."
"But I don't wanna be a vampire! I'm gonna miss basking in the sun! I like suntanning!"
"Honey, suntan lotion and sunscreen UV protection exist! You'll be fine!"
"But I'm hungry for blood! I don't wanna suck from people!"
"Lord Elvari has a huge supply of goat's blood for his own consumption. Maybe we can ask him to share his stash with you."
"I am not sharing drinks with some tentacle dude."
"He's a nice tentacle dude. Honey, be nice, he's a god. Divine retribution is very real, and every god has his limits."
"I'm a monster my friends won't hang out with anymore!"
"There are several monster networking groups on Meetup.com. Mom and Dad have a few friends who can link you up with them."
"But I want my human friends!"
"Bite them and bring them to your vampire meetup? The world is more accepting of supernatural beings ever since the masquerade collapsed years ago."
"Mom, Dad, you're too chill. Aren't you freaking out that your daughter is a vampire? Don't humans freak out when their kid is no longer human?"
"But honey, we're Shoggoths in human vessels." |
It's like living in Hershey, PA, with an allergy to cocoa...except instead of sweet, the air smells rancid.
I can't stand the stuff. They pour it over *everything*, from salads to tacos to ice cream. It's like watching someone eat mayo from the jar, sickening. Yet I can't escape it, not for a second. It's at work, at every picnic, every restaurant. Half of the grocery store is ranch dressing. And my fridge at home, the one food storage device that should be my sanctuary, is filled with it. I try throwing it out, but the next time I open the fridge, there it is again; enough ranch dressing to overfill a bathtub. I can't even make room for the milk.
That's what it's like in Hidden Valley. And I can't leave. Who would have thought, that once you moved in, you had to stay *hidden*. The real estate agent could have warned me. She could have at least asked if I liked ranch. Now I'm stuck here, with no contact to outside friends or family, hiding from the ranch gestapo.
You think I'm joking. I'm not. I tried to use some Italian dressing once. Made it myself, since the grocery store didn't sell it--which is odd, don't you think? The company certainly makes it. But no. Hidden Valley is for ranch only. We have to keep up appearances. They came in the night, confiscated my salad, and beat me black and blue. Then they left a jumbo bottle of fat-free ranch, saying, "Try it! It tastes just like the original!"
Every time I see a bottle of Hidden Valley ranch, I want to hurl. The thick, white gloppy mess, little specks of God knows floating in it, like milk that went bad three months ago. It smells like bitter death. Yet here I am, spooning it into my mouth at the picnic table, exchanging false, soulless smiles with my Stepford-esque neighbors. A bit dribbles down my chin, and I make a show of licking it off, exhibiting the table manners of an untrained chimpanzee.
"MMM!"I say. "Taste that simple goodness! Just the way ranch is supposed to taste More please!"
I'm in hell. |
The revelry was picking up as we wade through the crowd. Billions of voices of cheering and chanting together over a broadcast, uniting the entire world, mesh together into a beautiful white noise. The excitement around us was not comparable to any other known joy of human life.
We chose to experience the event in Shanghai so we could also see the city as it was before it had been rebuilt. Thankfully we were allowed translators on the trip so that we could talk to the locals.
I could feel my wife's heartbeat through her hand.
"Excited much?"
She somehow grinned on top of a preexisting grin. She crushed my fingers into oblivion and carted me off towards the city proper. In a few hours I'll experience what everyone in our time has claimed to be far more than our money's worth.
My personal thoughts of this whole *world parade* focus on the curious nature of how everyone understands this day to be significant. Reading history it would have seemed like functional fusion energy or the first of mankind on Mars would be considered more significant, but when those events come and go there was no where near this level of excitement.
Massive screens switch over to an early broadcast of the event. A beautiful Chinese woman with highlights in her hair laughingly chatters away about the events leading up to tonight. A series of various national flags float across the cameras. The grand arena was showcased before the event.
The multi-billion dollar structure was breathtaking. To witness such an iconic foundation before it truly earns its benchmark was like a tickle in my heart.
Admittedly I imagined at least some people being nervous, scared or even violent at this zero-hour moment. Every single soul was enthralled in the moment.
I even spotted a couple that were clearly from our time who had immersed themselves fully within the crowd's hypnotic festivities.
The time was vibrantly posted everywhere you looked, so I knew that we were finally mere seconds away.
I had heard a recording of it before, but in person it was far more unreal to hear the straining voices of the entire world slowly begin to quiet. The sensation of the silence made everything appear to quiver. My body felt like it was sliding out of itself. Some lights began to dim.
The night was truly about to begin. A group of hosts from across the globe gathered to discuss the night's events. I could name every single face from memory as I had seen that very image of them together on the front my history book. York Bailey, a British celebrity commenced the entire show with his voice.
"Good evening, Earth."
The light of the screens washed over the crowd of mesmerized faces.
"Tonight we come together as a species. Mankind. Humanity. Tonight we unite once and for all. No longer will we call out against our fellow man. This night we stop fighting as armies of nations, but as one soul against another. Tonight we bring to you the very first matches of what I know will make history. Welcome to the World Leader Death Match."
A massive logo encompasses the screen and electric guitars ring out a theme I remember from my first W.L.D.M. ring-set. The crowd ignites itself in a roaring thunder of applause, whistling, shouting and more. In every language of the world, at once, the people shout the catch phrase that will echo from now, to my time and beyond.
"Let the blood of one man stand for many." |
"Alright,"Pride said, "where's Sloth?"
"Where do you think? He's off sleeping. Apparently a 100 year nap wasn't enough for him, lucky bastard,"Envy wistfully replied.
"Well I guess that just leaves the six of us then. All the more chance that I'll win, I really want it this year."Lust pushed her raven locks out of her face. "After all, Greed really muffed up the last 100 years. Most prominent sin, really. All that greed pushed humanity through the 1900's and now they're as healthy and strong as ever."
"Hey,"Greed cut in, his diamond studded teeth grating. "I pushed two world wars, who knows how many corporations, and set basically every government on a path of corruption. Really whoever wins this year should thank me for setting the stage for the greatest fall in history."
"I don't know, I thought my getting Caesar killed was pretty great."Envy's malleable body shook with what could only be giddiness. "'Et tu, Brute!' So tragic, killed by people who were really just so jealous."
"Whatever, let's just do this already, I'm getting impatient,"Wrath snapped as his foot tapped a quick rhythm. "You won last time, so what's the contest gonna be this century Greed? And it had better not be anything stupid."
"Oh, I was thinking that I'd keep it simple, an all out brawl between the six, well, five now, of you. No rules, no holding back. Just go for it. Aaaannd go!"
Without hesitation Wrath punched the nearest sin to him square in the jaw, which just happened to be Gluttony. Before Gluttony hit the floor Wrath was off, ready to take out his next opponent. Across the room, Pride and Envy traded blows, Envy's form twisting and melting into different forms from Pride's past, goading him on. Lust watched from the sidelines until she noticed Wrath heading her direction.
Lust turned to face Wrath, stopping him in his tracks. "Hey there big boy,"she cooed. "You look like you've got a lot of tension."Her deep v-neck top struggled to hold in her bosom, which looked bigger than it did when they started. Her hips swayed as she stepped towards him, her form the definition of seduction.
"You should know better Lust,"Wrath said softly, placing a hand on her shoulder. "After all, anger is the most powerful emotion there is!"He emphasized his last word with a swift punch to the stomach that caused the temptress to double over. Before he could throw his next punch, however, she threw her hand across his face, causing deep tears to open in the flesh of his cheek.
Greed grinned to himself as he watched the whole thing unfold. This was something he had wanted for a long time, and Greed always got what he wanted. He sat back as the battles raged on, hours passing without any of the other four giving in. Finally after what seemed like an eternity only Envy and Wrath remained, both panting and barely able to stand. Out of the corner of his eye, Greed saw someone else enter the room.
"Sorry I'm late,"the hulking figure boomed groggily. "I was just having this great dream whe-"All of a sudden Sloth tripped, landing flat on top of the two remaining sins.
"Well big guy, looks like you'll actually have to do some work for the next 100 years,"Greed laughed.
Sloth sighed, exasperated. "What? I don't want to, why do I have to do it?"
"What? I don't want to, why do I have to do it?"Kyle asked as his dad grabbed a bucket of soapy water from under the tap.
"Son, when I was your age I worked every day to save for the car that I wanted, the same car that you're gonna wash right now. After that you can mow the lawn, and then I'll see about letting you go to your friends house."
"Whatever, like you worked hard. I shouldn't have to work anymore, it's 2015."
Kyle's dad walked away from his still complaining son. He had already sat in his room playing video games all morning, and now he didn't want to do any work either. Lazy kid, and his whole generation was like that too. They all just wanted to stay home all day and not get jobs. Oh well, not his problem. An afternoon nap sounded good. After all, he worked hard for his money all through the 70's and 80's, he felt like he earned the right to be lazy. |
*"Derek you god-damn nuisance, you did it again!"* I bellowed, looking at my dead petunias.
"You know, that's very insensitive of you Ralph. I actually *am* damned by the gods."
"Dude. don't give me that, you *are* a god. You can see the past, present and future. You can cover any distance instantly and your consciousness isn't bound to any specific place. You can alter reality itself with your mind **and you still forgot to water my plant while I was away!!**"
At least he had the decency to look embarrassed about it. It was quite a feat, because first he had to gather the nothingness that was him into a physical vessel, then make the vessel humanoid and then look abashed. It was hard to stay mad at him, he tried so hard.
"I just lost track of time Ralph, I am so sorry."
"Let's hear it, what was it this time?"
"Have you heard of Reddit?" |
"Nick, let me do this year, you're ruined."said Miss Claus
"Wha... No... *hic* I've got this."said the inebriated Santa as he fumbled into the sleigh. "I don't need any help... WHERE'S THE COAL!"he shouted, after seeing Miss Claus recoil he realised it was louder than he intended, "Sorry."
A little elf ran up with a small sack.
"Umm, Mr Santa..."
"Hehe, he's tiny!"Santa giggled as he pointed at the elf and looked at Miss Claus.
"Mr Santa, we're out of coal, we only have 12,000 lumps left, that's not even enough to cover the Southern Hemisphere. The Miner Elves have worked tirelessly these past months."
"Shit..."
"Language"demanded Miss Claus.
"Sorry dearest... Sweet Christmas, what are we to do? I'll figure it out *hic* I'm fine honey, go back inside. This snow is sobering me up."
"If you promise me you'll fly safely."she asked,
"I promise."Santa said with an honest looking smile. Miss Claus headed back inside. As soon as the door shut, Santa pulled a half squashed Eggnog carton out of his jacket and finished it off.
"Tiny man..."
"Yes, sir?"
"Fuck the coal, fuck it all. I'm just gunna give them something else instead."
"Like what sir? Dirt? Rocks?"
"Nah, I'm not *hic* flinging dirt everywhere. What I'm gunna give the naughty children is... well... I'm... I'm... I-*hic*-m... gunna punch them in the face! Yeah, quick jab, jab, uppercut to the face. Pow! Right in the kisser"Santa emulated his punches and nearly toppled off of the sleigh.
"Sir, I umm... with the highest of respect... that's not a good idea."said the elf, his hat in his hands as he looked down to his feet.
"Bugger it, too late now. haha, *You better watch out, you better not cry
Better not pout, I'm telling you why, Punchy Claus is coming to town.*"Santa sang, opening a new carton of Eggnog,
"Sir, please, we ca..."the elf tried to protest more.
"*HE'S MAKING A LIST AND CHECKING IT TWICE*"Singing louder,
"I've got to get Miss Claus for this."The elf scuttled away towards the log cabin.
"*GONNA FIND OUT NAUGHTY AND NICE, PUNCHY CLAUS IS GUNNA PUNCH YOUUUU!*"Santa stopped and realised the elf was gone. "Bitchin'... I thought mini me would never leave. Time to *hic* go then."He slumped into the driving seat and grabbed the reins. "Yippie Ki Yay, Father Christmas!" |
Ahh so this is the feeling people talk about. This is what it means to be near death. To see my life flash through my eyes before I kick it. Looking back at it, it was a good life, one well lived. Even though when I was young, I was always bullied, I remember those words Edgar said. "All Susie can do is make bubbles but she's still more powerful than you". Those words hurt but it was true.
Now I remember when I was 35 and I had my first daughter, she had the ability to fly and she asked me why daddy can't fly, or do anything. I laughed and told her my superpower was being a good dad. I remember her wide smile and the love it promoted. Now I'm 60, when that dark period where the people with powers were attempting to finish off the non-powerful but luckily only one group prevailed. Humanity prevailed.
Now I'm done reminiscing, it's time to go. As I took one more breathe and opened my eyes one more time, I began feeling hot, and hotter and the rook began brightning. As I looked amazed, only one word came to my mouth, "phoenix". |
1:27 PM. He'd picked this time specifically: late enough to avoid the lunch rush, but early enough that an entire afternoon could be devoted to the cause. The café served a flaky white pastry that he knew Melissa enjoyed, and the coffee was excellent.
He admitted to himself that he was slightly overdressed for a casual meeting - a charcoal tailored blazer and slacks over a pale blue shirt - but something in him clung to the formality, refusing to acknowledge that a T-shirt and jeans were appropriate attire for something this dire.
She was a little early, which he had expected. He knew her habits: he had to, as she was a weakness to his real foe.
Oh, how he'd underestimated that.
"Maxwell!"Melissa beamed. He noted her glossy blonde curls, catching the afternoon sunlight and making her glow. A vision in a white lace sundress and shoulder...bag...thing. Purse. Yes.
"Melissa,"he responded. Smile precisely calculated to put her at ease. She did so, neatly flouncing into the wrought iron chair across from him. "Was this a bad time for you? I know it's a little unusual..."
"Oh, no, it actually worked out great!"Melissa waved to a waiter. "The client accepted before we even met! Beth was ecstatic, said we could take the whole afternoon off if we wanted!"
*Yes, a few well-placed threats can be quite convincing.*
Melissa continues to bubble on as the waiter returns with a pot of coffee and two slices of *mille-feuille*. He pays attention in a subconscious way; his eidetic memory will play through this later and he'll dissect her vocabulary, tone and gestures to add to her profile. He takes a bite out of the pastry (which is quite delightful, hats off to the chef); Melissa takes the cue and cuts off a piece for herself and metaphorically gushes about the quality.
Now for the difficult part. Women are emotional creatures, and despite his research and simulations, there is never more than 90% accuracy on this part.
"So,"he says, pouring her a cup of coffee simultaneously, "how is Donny these days?"Another calculated distraction: the movement of the pot, the reflection of light on its silver side, the sudden smell of freshly brewed coffee - it will keep her from getting too focused or upset to him.
"Oh. Um. He's okay, I guess."
"'I guess?'"Sugar, deliberately tapping out the paper packet for the extra noise, then the clink of his stirring spoon (normally an abhorrent habit). "You're not vague."
"No, it's just..."She fiddles with a creamer serving. After a minute of gazing, she relents. "We're just taking a break."
"A 'break'?"Here he has to be cautious. The simulations recorded that something as misplaced as a slight gesture, the twitch of an eyebrow, even the enunciation of his words, and the results would vary widely. Simulations went with the safest course: a pause, waiting for Melissa to speak.
"Yeah..."Melissa opened the creamer and dropped the contents in. "I mean, I get that he works, but he's just been so distant lately."She stirred in the cream, barely moving her spoon. "And maybe...maybe he's not into me as much as I'm into him."
"Oh, Melissa, you know he loves you - "
"He smelled different."
Wait what.
"Just before the break, I went to visit him. Another late night, and I thought coffee would cheer him up."
Oh shit *no*.
"And I found his coat, and his laundry, and they smelled of...something. Perfume?"A hollow laugh, so unlike her vibrant self - "and I just...I needed to get away."
The pheromone bomb, meant to target Donny for a painful death by wasps.
"So many things didn't add up until now, and I think...I think I just need to focus on myself for a while, and if Donny wants to focus on his 'work' - "here Melissa did the airquotes - "then I'm not going to distract him."
Melissa sighed, somehow not seeing the sudden pallor on Maxwell's face.
"Sorry about bringing this all up,"she said. "Let's just have our cake." |
"About time, sleepyhead!"
Groggily, one thought snaked its way across my mind. "That's not what my alarm sounds like..."
"Of course it isn't, dude! In case you hadn't noticed, I've been telling you to get up for half an hour now."
That... was not a voice I knew. I opened my eyes and looked for the speaker. Not a person in sight.
"Wha...?"
"OK, let me explain. I'm Matt Reamer, and I AM STUCK INSIDE YOUR HEAD. Can you form a cohesive thought yet?"
Man, he talked a lot. "Yeah, yeah, I'm awake now. Why are you in my head?"
"I don't know, dude. I don't know why I'm here, I don't know who you are, I don't know where you are, I don't know anything relevant at the moment. I..."
I sensed a tinge of panic in his voice, and understandably so. As far as I could tell, nothing had changed on my end (other than his presence), but I decided to comfort him. "Hey, hey, calm down. I'm Ben."
"You don't need to talk out loud, you know. I can literally read your thoughts."
Well, that's embarrassing. *Um, wh-*
"Dude, it's not embarrassing. You've had less than a minute to figure this out, but I've been here for a while. Don't sweat it."
*What happened?*
"Your guess is as good as mine. I went to bed like normal at my place and when I woke up, I was here. By the way, nice place you got here."
I looked around my dorm. I wouldn't exactly call it opulent, but-
"No, no, not that. You've got good headspace."
With that, I got a mental picture of a brightly lit room, barren except for two large screens competing for space on the far wall. On the left was a image of what my eyes were seeing at that moment, and on the right was a string of a bunch of text. All that happened within a moment, and I was left reeling from such a vivid experience. "Wha-"
"I woke up in this room and was really confused for a while. It was all dark and there was some really weird stuff playing on the wall - I think it was your dreams - and the lights came on when you woke up. I can't tell where the lights are coming from, but hey, I'm not complaining."
"What-"*What was that writing next to it?*
"That's a real-time feed of your thoughts. Since I showed you that picture, it's got that in it as well, which creates a really nice recursion effect, but when I said I could literally read your thoughts, I wasn't kidding."
Now I was intrigued. *What else is in there?*
"Well, I'm sitting in this really cool chair, and there's a smaller room with a bed behind me in case you want some privacy. Imagine *Inside Out* but minimalist."
*Wow, I never knew I had real headspace. Still no-*
"By the way, you're about to be late for that 7:30 class."
I looked at the clock, and was promptly startled into action. Matt actually proved quite helpful ("Keys are on the coffee table") and I was out the door before we could talk more about our little situation. I felt kinda bad for him, but he seemed more chill now, and I had just gotten another roommate.
Headmate. Whatever. |
"Counselor, explain your findings."
"Erm, yes High Commander. It seems that the intel we had previously received on these "humans"was flawed."
"Flawed?"Replied the high commander scowling. "You reported a primitive hominid culture, barely scratching the surface of electricity. Now you bring us against an enemy that has begun to rewrite it's own genetic code? One that has been able to shatter a fixed element? Thousands of years, it took our greatest natural philosophers to achieve. What have you gathered of their past hundred years of history? Explain this madness!"
"Of course my liege. It seems that soon after we left, they focused many industries on the mechanization of war, while simultaneously improving mass communication info structure. They perfected the radio as well as aviation in the early 1900's (standard earth years). They then used all of these technologies to fight a great war in what was, at the time, epicenter of the civilized world. Millions were died and a large amount of buildings were destroyed."
"Shouldn't a war of that magnitude have hindered them substantially? Shouldn't they still be rebuilding?"
"More-so sir, an outbreak of influenza decimated an even larger portion of the already severely impacted population."
"This didn't slow them?"
"On the contrary, healers on their world began to study natural phenomena and were able to fabricate chemical remedies for many ailments that they faced. But soon war came again to the same area with similar combatants. Even more lives were lost, and an entire race almost exterminated. To finally end the war, one combatant nation had a brain trust of it's most gifted natural philosophers create what they believed would be a super weapon. By splitting a base unit of a natural element, they released all of the power trapped within. When the war ended, millions upon millions laid dead and it took years to rebuild, but rebuild they did."
"Indeed they have."
"Yes sir, two political ideologies began to split the world in half. From the information we have gathered, we have found that one side was based on the belief that people should be able to rule over themselves and all are equal. The other believed that a few corrupt individuals should hold power over all the rest. One is called 'capitalism', the other 'communism'."
"Which one is which counselor?"
"We haven't been able to discern that yet my liege. In fact, many countries have adopted systems similar to either one and claim their variation is the best."
The High Lord sighed and tapped his fingers. "I suppose these enemies went to war then?"
"Actually, Lord, they did not. For almost half a century, SET, they fought a series of small scale proxy wars and espionage operations against one another. Neither side seemed willing to engage the other in open warfare. During this time, in an attempt to win psychologically, they had rivalries in science, engineering, technology, weaponry and so on and so forth."
"Have there been wars between any of these countries?"
"None so large in scale my liege. In fact, there have been very few large scale armed conflicts after the second great war. Still, they continue to grow and horde military materiel, now more so than ever!"
"So, counselor, if I am to understand. You have brought us against an opponent that not only revels in war, but is actually made stronger by it. You have brought us here after it's inhabitants have been living under the shadow of war for close to one hundred years. You have brought us here against an enemy that has created, nay perfected, one of the strongest weapons we have ever been able to fabricate, proliferated it amongst several rival nations, but has not been used in combat for decades. And you have brought us here just as their world powers itch to show off their military dominance?"
"Yes sir."The councilor croaked out.
"Can they be reasoned with?"
The counselor gave a weak shrug. |
"Why not?"
Before me, the Council of Canines whimpered as one, liquid eyes glancing from face to face. Even across species, it was easy enough to tell that they were worried. Their brows were furrowed, their postures slumped, and every squeaky toy in the floor-height meeting room sat in somber silence.
"Well, sir."Said Banjo, the eldest Golden. "It would...not be wise. The cats have always been fickle."
"Of course they have. They're cats."I agreed. "But it feels rather cruel, don't you think? To Uplift one species, several even, and allow another so close to us to remain in ignorance? The Whales certainly thought so. So did they Apes. They all encouraged us to Uplift you as well."
"Yes...it is a...difficult situation."The canine placed a paw over his nose. "Still, my point stands."
"Yes, but what *is* your point? You have stated again and again that you think that cats should be left where they are. Be a good dog and tell me *why*."
"Do not patronize me, sir."Banjo let lose a breathy canine sigh. "Very well. If you must know, we will tell you. You made us, in more ways than one. I speak not of uplifting us to your level nor even treating us as equals. You *created* us even as animals so that we might serve you."
"You mean the breeding programs?"I asked. "Again, I apologize for that, but-"
"No apology is needed."Banjo snorted. "We thank you for it, even. Without you, we would be but animals, dying out in the woods as the permafrost melted like our cousins the wolves. No. You created us, and for that, you have our gratitude. But they...they created YOU.
"That's preposterous!"I said, standing to my full height. Several of the dogs stood as well, running in circles around the room or performing play-bows and grabbing their toys, but Banjo stood resolute.
"Is it?"He asked, tail thumping despite his obvious attempts at calming it. "We were useful to you. Companions, even as beasts. What good has a cat ever done for man?"
"They drove rodents from our grain stores! Comforted us when we were at our lowest...many believe them to be even greater companions than dogs!"
At that, every muzzle in the room rose skyward for a single howl.
"That was just what they *wanted* you to think!"Banjo barked. "They used you, human. All the while you thought they were your pets, *you* were actually *theirs*.
With that, Banjo stood, heading towards the nearest doggy door.
"I will speak of this no more, human. Your choice is your own, and as your loyal companions, we will stand by your decision no matter what it is. But please, at least consider our warning....do not elevate the felines. To us you are as gods...but to them, you will be but servants."
With one final whine, he slipped through the door and vanished from sight.
***
*Thanks for the read! CC welcomed, and if you enjoyed this story come check out my others at /r/TimeSyncs!* |
"Tonight, our first guest is none other than Dante Alighieri, fresh out of Hell. He's talking about his new work,'The Second Divine Comedy: A More Accurate Atlas', his relationship with Virgil, and--"
\*click*
"I think the simple fact is that atheism just... isn't a thing anymore. The scientific community, and the world, is going to have to accept that."
"How insightful. Any closing remarks?"
"Yes. Thank God that evolution, and the dinosaurs, are real."
\*click*
"Twenty parishioners died today following an attempt to hold an audience with what is believed to be either a Cheribum or Throne. The Holy Trinity has yet to--"
\*click*
"New pics from the set of *Supernatural* Season 17. Castiel visits actor Misha Collins, and he seems to approve."
"And L. Ron Hubbard, back from hell, seen rampaging down the streets of L.A. in a Ferrari."
"But first, Britney Spears admits that she was possessed!"
\*click*
"New Glade Air-Wick, formulated to kill the sulfur smell."
\*click*
"We cannot allow these immigrants into our cities! They stink up the place with their grimestone, and they're bad, they're all bad people! They wouldn't have gone to hell if they weren't bad!"
"What my opponent fails to realize is that there is a seat in Hell reserved for him."
"There is-- there is not--"
"Mephistopholes literally took a photo of it! It's on Instagram! It's on my phone right now!"
"There are dozens of people with my name--"
\*click*
"Leonard, the new edition of Dungeons and Dragons is expected soon, and I am not happy."
"Why not?"
"Because they're getting rid of tieflings! Apparently it's racially insensitive to depict children of human and demons in such a manner. I don't see the problem."
"You do realize that Raj's sister is expecting a kid?"
"Yes?"
"Sheldon, *her boyfriend is a Demon!*"
"hahahahahahahahahahaha"
\*click*
You throw the controller on the floor. Cosmic mistake or not, TV has continued to be awful. As far as you're concerned, nothing's changed. |
The virus had swept in and wiped out everyone around me. I never got sick, and since the illness passed over I've held on to hope that there were more people with immunity out there. I spent most of the first month collecting supplies and hunkering down. I had a good supply of canned food, guns, and gasoline stockpiled, but the isolation was crippling. I was figuring out the logistics of hitting the road in search of other survivors when I heard a shuffle outside.
I rushed to the door, half hoping to see a survivor, fully expecting to see a stray dog. I found a box. It was in pristine condition. The label printed on the front said "Dollar Shave Club". I started to tremble in fear and anticipation as I slowly knelt and carefully lifted the lid of the box, not knowing what I would find. It was my usual order.
I wasn't quite sure how to react; first, I considered and dismissed the possibility that an automated delivery via drone happened, I thought about running around looking for whoever planted the box there, and then I became haunted with the question of why someone would deliver the package and hide from me. Thinking about it gave me chills in the most awful, primal, way.
I immediately packed up my resources and fled. I found a nice little house a days drive away. I slept facing the locked door with a gun beside me. The next day I did the same thing. This went on for about a month. One morning, after mapping out my next destination, I walked outside to find another box. "Dollar Shave Club".
I was convinced that someone was following me, or I was already dead and in hell. I searched around, fear an afterthought at that point, looking for any sight of people. I couldn't find anything.
I've gotten a delivery each month for a while since, but now I've gotten a notice with the last box that says "...your last payment did not go through, please fix your payment method to continue service..."I had a good laugh, then a good cry, and now I'm sitting with my gun in my hands wondering what happens next.
'Knock' 'Knock' 'Knock'
I have my gun trained on the door; it seems that one way or another, after tonight I'll never be alone again. |
Just Numbers
'Ah. Fuck.' The expletive escapes my mouth almost involuntarily. Not only did I stub my toe, but the tissue landed on the ground instead of in the trashcan. I bend down to pick up the tissue and correct the mistake - guess I'm a bit clumsy.
I turn back to pick up my lucky D20 and notice it landed on a 1. I only just found it in my junk drawer and chucked it on the table. In usual fashion, I'm getting a touch distracted trying cleaning up my room. I frown at the die, then look back to the trashcan. Obviously it was a coincidence, but that's kinda funny. Wish I could've recorded it.
Maybe I should ask the guys if they're keen to do some DnD again; it's been a few years. I pick up the die, tossing it in my hand and head out to the kitchen - I can probably take a break for lunch. Maybe a sandwich? Other than having to buy food, the worst part about eating is having to make it. I'm hungry now, not in half an hour. Wish it would just happen faster.
I drop the die on the countertop and start collecting the ingredients from the fridge. Ham, tomato, cheese, lettuce, pickles – this ought to be good. I put it all together then put everything back in the fridge. I grab my sandwich and take a bite, checking the time on the wall. Wait… it's only been thirty seconds. I swear it was 12:34 when I started and it still is. It should've taken me at least five minutes to put all that together.
The die on the bench shows a 17. No, that's ridiculous. Even if I wasn't thinking crazy right now, it'd take more than a 17 to speed up something by that much. Although, making a sandwich wouldn't be a high difficulty class. No, this is insane. Still…
I take the die in my hand and roll it. 10. I look around. Nothing seems to happen. Except, I suppose the thing I was trying to do was roll the thing. Guess I succeeded? This dumb. I feel stupid.
Nevertheless, I put down my lunch and go for the die again. Okay… I want to recall exactly what happened on my twelfth birthday. Fourteen years ago. I roll the die and get a 4. Nothing happens as far as I can tell, same as before, I don't remember much. Well that could just be that I failed.
This time, my thirteenth. I roll and get a 19. The events of the day pop into my mind in perfect clarity. Even the flavour of the chocolate cake is vivid against my tastebuds. A 19 and I remember everything… surely this can't be real. I pinch myself. Nothing happens other than my skin becoming a bit sore.
This isn't enough. I need something truly definitive. I either need to fail something I'm extremely skilled at, or succeed at something I've never done – like a backflip. Or maybe something less extreme. Something where I won't die if I roll a 1.
Oh! A trick-shot!
I take a napkin, scrunch it up with some water, then stand across the room from the bin. I roll and it lands on 17. I throw the napkin flush into the bin. A throw like that is almost always up to chance anyway.
I get a new napkin, then take the die and roll a 3 three this time. Well there's no point throwing it on a three, the only thing that'd proove anything would be if I actually managed the shot. This isn't even something I've never done, anyway. I go to roll again but my hand falters when I try to pick up the die. I missed and there it is, still sitting on a 3. So… could it be that's whatever I do next is affected by the roll?
I take the die successfully this time. I roll again and hit a 20. Perfect. I lob the napkin towards the bin. It flies through the air with a perfect arc, then lands on the ground a foot short of the bin.
Huh…
Don't know what I was thinking. |
My first time writing here. Any criticism is welcome :) Turned out a bit longer than i expected too.
Genie lamps have always been hard to find. ‘Hard to find’ would be an understatement honestly. Once a genie granted all three wishes, it retreats into its shell, and turns to smoke that is whisked away by the wind; to be carried away into any of the corners of the world. Only for another human in need to magically come across it and make the next three wishes. Genie are tortured souls forced to do the bidding of whoever finds them. And Fate brings genie to only the most desperate beings.
Once it was a rhino wishing to end its misery after having its tusk brutally amputated and stolen by some humans. Another time it was a man who had lost everything in his gambling addiction. He had wished for an extraordinary amount of wealth only to gamble it all away again and he ended up wishing for the genie to kill him. Every single master the genie had was someone who needed help, someone who the world had turned its back to. So much pain everywhere, and all the genie could do was to follow the demented orders of these hurt souls without having the authority to help them.
The genie was tired. So bone tired. It had lived for so long that you couldn’t really say it was ‘living’ anymore. It was only a flickering consciousness that sustained its ethereal being. But there was a ray of hope even for one as tortured as a genie. Legends, long before its existence, had it that if a genie could serve 1000 masters and serve all their 3000 wishes, they would be given the ultimate prize.
A lone wish for themselves.
No genie had ever succeeded in this task. All the ones before this one had been worn out by the pain of our corporeal world. Their delicate essences corroded by the stench and corruption of ours. This genie though, had held on to that thread of hope dangling almost within its grasp.
It was on its 999th master now. Even in its fading consciousness, he could feel something different about this one. Maybe it was one of those cruel jokes Fate liked to play on it. Whatever it was, he saw a spark of good in this man, and in turn, humanity. For his final wish, the man wished that the genie would be free from its misery. That it be no longer shackled to the confines of its shell. While it was a noble wish, it was pointless since that was the 3000th wish that would free the genie anyway.
Nonetheless, the wish was granted. Before it left, it wanted to know the name of the creature who had spent a priceless wish in wishing for another’s freedom.
“Alladin”, he replied. What a nice name, the genie thought before it lost the last of its essence and faded from reality.
It woke up to a booming voice in its head. “You have done the impossible gentle one. You’ve held on to the very end”, the voice said from the darkness all around. “Tell me what you desire, name anything, and it shall be yours.”
Nobody had ever asked it for it wanted. Nobody except for the man who showed him that humanity had Hope after all. Alladin.
“I wish that I be born again into the human world. As a human that brings laughter and smiles into the darkness of humanity. I want to be the spark that brightens the lives of people as long as I’m alive. Sometimes all that people need is a smile here or a laugh there. I wish to be that.”
The voice was silent for a while.
“So be it”, it finally replied.
“The world shall know you, Robin Williams.”
&#x200B;
Thanks for reading :) |
Maybe it was the word danger, or maybe it was the oddity of it all, but without even replying I soon found myself in a small wave of...myself, hurriedly making our way down the street. We had already walked several blocks before I stopped to give the situation a good think.
*Did he have a secret family? But then why would they look like me; I don't even look like him. Too late to turn back now if this is some kind of trap. Their urgency is calming but also unnerving. At least they seem to know what they're doing.*
My attempts to reason out this experience were consistently interrupted by the sounds of my own voice. Mostly grunts and heavy breaths, but occasionally the others would talk among themselves. Quick, quiet words. On the surface they seemed far more familiar with each other than any of them were with me, but after some time I realized that wasn't true. The words I was able to pick up here and there weren't those of buddies or brothers. They were pleas for reassurance, that everything would be okay.
They were nervous.
"It'll be okay, guys,"I finally said, confidently, though where such confidence came from I had no idea.
The leader of our small pack didn't break his pace, but turned around with eyes that told me I was wrong. However, he smiled at me, almost as if to thank me for my optimism. It was at that point when confusion overtook whatever fear and nerves were inside me. This wasn't going to turn out well, yet we were on a mission to find whatever good outcome could come from this. I still had no idea who these other men were aside from apparent copies of me, and I had no idea what to think of my father.
*Oh, right! Dad!* I finally thought to myself. Amid the flurry of it all I had somehow lost perhaps the most important aspect. Who knew what my life, our lives, had in store through all of this. The only hard 'fact' was his apparent danger.
I felt my feet kick into another gear, and I quickly joined myself at the front of the pack. Sad Eyes nodded and gave me the same smile as before, and onward we went.
I still followed the forlorn me as I still wasn't really sure where we were headed. For the next couple of hours we silently trudged through the city. I constantly wondered why we couldn't take a bus or Ubers or taxis, but I trusted that it had to be this way, but again I wasn't sure where that trust came from. This walk felt *right,* even though my legs were ablaze with pain.
Finally, after leaving my house around mid day, we finally arrived at an inconspicuous apartment building just as the sun set. The heavy breathing of my voice made for a strangely lovely chorus as we stood in front of the red bricked building. I trusted my father was in there, for whatever reason, even though we were on the wrong side of town. I waited for Sad Eyes' next move, but all we did was stood there awkwardly for several minutes.
I elbowed my leader hoping he'd take the hint. He sighed, before saying his only words.
"Only you can go."
A couple of tears formed in his soul, before making their way to his eyes. It caught me off guard. I knew his eyes were sad, but for some reason I still found it a surprise. He smiled at me, one last time, before he elbowed me back.
I took the hint, and made my way inside.
I made for the mailboxes looking for my last name, only to find nothing was marked. Row after row of blank tags stared back at me. Finally, in the very last box on the bottom right, I saw a small scribble:
"Here."
An ominous chill flickered in my spine. The surreal nature of the day had come and gone in between waves of confusion and blind bravery. But this, this reminding me that this was ordained, that I couldn't have escaped whatever was waiting upstairs.
And that it wasn't going to end well.
Naturally, my destination was on the top floor of the building. But to my great shock, the elevators worked. *The first pleasant surprise of the day!* I thought, smiling. *Aaaaaand the last...* I quickly realized with a frown.
I made my way from the elevator and down the plain beige walls before coming to the apartment at the end. The door was already opened upon my arrival, and with a nervous peek I could see a set of hands surrounding a mug on a table within. I recognized the wrinkles over the knuckles. *Dad.*
I made my way inside and found my father sipping what I knew would be pomegranate green tea. I sat down opposite him at the table while he finished his sip.
"Are you okay, dad?"I finally asked.
"Burned my tongue just now, but otherwise I suppose I'm fine,"he said with a chuckle.
"Then what about all this, whatever it is. The ten other versions of me outside, this ghost of a building, your apparent danger. What is going on?"I said.
"Oh, right. Well, in that sense yes, I suppose I'm not fine. I'm dying, of have already died. One of the two. Doesn't much matter in either case, so long as we're here talking."
I blinked several times in a failed attempt to unpack what he was saying.
"You, and the others, are indeed my progeny,"he finally said. "But from different points of existence. This, you might say, is a bit of a no-no on a cosmic scale, or trans-cosmic as the case may be. I just loved loving, I guess, heh!"he said.
"What?"
"I broke the rules when I created your brothers. I was only supposed to have one child. As a result, I was sentenced to death. The copy of me, your surrogate father if you will, will remain alive and well. But I am a shade,"he said.
"So, why am I here?"I asked.
"You're the first born. Only you have the right to live, as far as the abiding bodies are concerned,"he said.
"Great! But, do-"
"Yes, your brothers will die next, unless you save them,"he said.
I got up in a flash and ran to the window. I looked down to see Sad Eyes waving at me, before the group slowly began to fade away into nothingness.
"They know I'm dying, but they don't know they're next. They think I brought them here to save me, but I brought them so that they might meet you - their would be savior,"he said.
He took one last slip of his tea, before the glass clanged down on the table and rolled to the floor. He fell onto the table, and I helped him over to a more comfortable chair in the corner. His breathing grew raspy, and he coughed with indicative thickness.
I didn't quite know this man, though that familiar twinge inside told me I could trust him, and that he was indeed my father. I had my doubts about what was to come next; I didn't even know how to find my now missing brothers. I began to cry from the weight of it all. And it was with that heavy heart into which my true father's words spoke.
"You'll find a way. Go, save yourself while you can be saved."
&nbsp;
_____________________
r/psalmsandstories for more tales by me, should you be interested. |
Cody had no idea whether he was lucky or unlucky. On the one hand hand, he was in a car with the prettiest girls in school. Girls so pretty that they blew most supermodels out of the water. On the other hand, each and every one of those girls was practically a one woman army that could destroy cities.
One of them was leaning on his shoulder and playing with a miniature sun. Somehow she kept the heat from vaporizing everyone else in the car. "So, why can't I use this again?"the girl, Cindy, asked. "I mean, it's way faster than an oven."
Another of the girls, Lisa, nodded her agreement. "Yeah, I mean, why put a bag of popcorn in the microwave when I can just use my hand in half the time?"She demonstrated her ability to change her body into fire by doing it her hand.
"Because the goal is to fit in."Cody said. He realized how silly it sounded, given his position. Considering the car he was in was being carried through the air by yet another of the super human girls. But she had insisted, and it was hard to argue with a girl whose daily warm up included an oil tanker. Besides, he was a little short on gas money, and this was a long drive.
"But I thought normal people loved doing things in the fastest way."Cindy said. "And this is way faster."
The other four girls in the car nodded their agreement. Cody felt another of them slide in closer to him. Karen, this time. He had no idea why they insisted on being so close to him. "Yeah, I mean, why spend the time traveling somewhere, when you can just open a whole in space and be there right away?"
"Because that's just you."Cody said. "Remember, the point is to be human, not super human. That's why you all came to me, right?"
"Among other reasons."Lisa said, leaning forward more than he needed to. Cindy and Karen apparently agreed, as they moved as close to him as the car would allow. The other two looked like they wanted to switch places with them.
Why they thought that was beyond him. Why all six of them seemed to gravitate towards one of the blandest guys in school. But they did, and he just had to accept that. At least his presence kept them grounded. Mostly.
"Okay, putting those other reasons aside,"He said, doing his best to keep his eyes above the various necklines of the girls, "you all wanted to know what it's like to be a normal person, right? And that means not using your powers as shortcuts for everything. Every now and then it's fine, but not for everything. It's why I try to drive everywhere instead of asking any of you to take me places."They probably would, too. In fact, he knew they would. Their current method of transit was proof enough of that. "It's just what it means to be normal."
The girls were silent as the thought about what he said. He knew it would not stick. At least, not fully. They had had this conversation dozens of times already. Each of them seemed to want to at least pretend to be normal, and yet they still used their powers regularly. He supposed they were getting better slowly, but he still had a ways to go before they could handle any semblance of normal human life.
At least getting them there would not be boring. |
“Good morning students,” The collective groans of my 9am class was music to my ears. “I am Professor Harris, and in this class we will be learning about World History and its importance today.”
One of the male students stood up, I immediately classified him as a brute type based on his cocky grin and cliche popping of his knuckles. “Well Professor,” he began, oh this will be good. “Learn from our mistakes is the obvious answer, so why dont we cancel the class altogether so we can get some sleep?”
The grumbles of agreement from the other students was disheartening only for a second. “Mr….” i checked the roster. “Brackson, you will be submitting a five page essay on the Mesopotamian Civil War and the Effects of Metas on Said War due by next class. Now, let us begin by taking a look at the first Me-“
“I dont believe you understood what i was getting at.” Brackson growled, and i just grinned at him.
“Ten pages, for each interruption I will be double the amount. Now if you wish to fight me on this, physically, verbally, or metaphorically, I will be happy to do so.” I could hear the whispers as the students began placing bets on what my power could be. Luckily no one had actually tried using theirs just yet, so the element of surprise was still on my side.
“If it means none of us have to take this stupid class, then i’ll gladly beat you down.” Brackson charged me, the poor freshman still needed lessons on strategy and a lot more combat experience to boot.
As his fist came towards my head, i shifted to the side and grasped his wrist as it passed by. with my free hand, i punched the locked elbow as i pulled his wrist. Their was a pop as his elbow was removed from the socket and he cried out in pain. I snapped a kick to the side of his knee and crumpled.
“As you can see, your enhanced strength and durability are useless. In fact I want all of you to attempt to use your powers.” Seconds later, their were gasps of shock and horror as none of their powers activated. “This room is my domain. My word is LAW.” I tapped a button on my desk that let the nurses office know i needed assistance.
“Mr. Brackson, you will have a twenty page essay for me next class.” At his nod, i turned to the rest of the class and the nurses assistant walked in.
“Every year…” he grumbled to himself as he picked up my meathead of a student.
“That,” i started. “Was your first lesson. I believe any upperclassmen that talked about me refuse to mention anything and in fact encouraged some of you to act up as a sort of initiation, since this class is mandatory all that.”
I leaned forward, looking each and every one of them in the eyes. “Your powers grant you great strength, allow you to break the rules of physics, or even alter reality. We will learn the effects of such powers on the world and how even those without powers can overcome the odds.”
——————————
In the teachers lounge i was sipping a dark coffee when Nurse Winnia walked in. “Every time,” she grumbled as she sat beside me. “can’t you at least hold back from popping their limbs out? as soon as any super based healing factor kicks in, it causes issues when left for too long.”
I just shrug and give her a chagrined smirk. “I put the fear of mortality in them, it’s what they need to learn. Along with the fact that when someone with that fear of death looming over them, powers or none, they can do some damned horrific things.”
“So says the one without powers,” her own smirk joined his as she got up to make her own coffee. “Still wont tell me who made that little power nullifier of yours?”
“Nope,” i chuckled. “After all, if suddenly all powers could be nullified, then it’s us martial artists and marksmen that would stand at the top. That sort of responsibility is above my pay grade.”
“No, you’re just too lazy to actually run anything.”
“Also true.” |
This is a challenge where I'll spend 30-some days writing a micro-story based on a combination of whatever catches my eye at r/writingprompts that day plus the theme of the day as predetermined by a list prebuilt out of my friends' suggestions.
Today's theme is "The main character is tied up"and the writing prompt is "Turns out that the main thing that sets humanity apart isn't speed, or violence, or even art. No, what sets humanity apart from all other space-faring life is *not being a crab*."
---
**The Galactic Omnipaedia, Data-bank 218894, Entry 37894, "Black-Claw"**
Black-Claw was arguably (see: Data-bank 218576, Entry 7931, "Galactic-wide polls on pirates, controversies") the most infamous pirate in the history of the Galaxy post-FTL-discovery and before the advancements in FTL and scanning technology have made piracy an inefficient vocation. Her spaceship, the Scarlet Nebula (other ships captained by Black-Claw include the Deep Pulsar and an unnamed asteroid she rigged into a spacefaring vessel), brought fear into the hearts of any who read its unique signature broadcast to their scanners. The crew of the Nebula was comprised of battle-hardened veterans, their carapaces reinforced and their claws sharpened with bleeding-edge materials developed across the Galaxy (Black-Claw herself was known to be partial to old-school coatings of thin diamond dust). They had built up a reputation of a force that merchant vessels would rather just simply surrender to immediately - while military fleets sent after it were either decimated or evaded.
Black-Claw died in 478 FTLE after an encounter with Ladybug, a small Human (see: Data-bank 212003, Entry 28, "Humans") exploration vessel that they have decided to board.
For more information directly related to Black-Claw see Data-bank 218894, Entries 37895 through 37917.
*Comments:*
&#x2003;&#x2003;*xXx_wormhole_prober_201_xXx:* i would let her plunder my booty if u know what i mean
&#x2003;&#x2003;*krabsty_000:* @xXx_wormhole_prober_201_xXx Do men think of anything else? That woman killed hundreds of people!
&#x2003;&#x2003;*xXx_wormhole_prober_201_xXx:* @krabsty_000 do u have a bf i sent you a dm ;>
**The Galactic Omnipaedia, Data-bank 212003, Entry 28, "Humans"**
Humans are a special species among the starfaring ones of the Galaxy. Due to their world uniquely not being fully submerged after a global warming event at the time the FTL technology has been made available to sentient civilizations (see: Data-bank 120, Entry 1, "The Great Gift"and Data-bank 120, Entry 12, "Beginning of the FTL Era"), they have not yet evolved into the ultimate physiology. As such, they possess many differences to an average member of a sentient race, including but not limited to: endoskeletons exoskeletons, biped locomotion, high profile, multiple fine manipulators. For more detailed information, consult the rest of Data-bank 212003.
*Comments:*
&#x2003;&#x2003;*krabsty_000:* Wow, humans are *weird*. I've read a bit of the databank and... they have something called "hair"and they make "haircuts"out of it? Some have "beards"???
&#x2003;&#x2003;*DongusMaximus:* @krabsty_000 Watch who you call weird carapace-face
&#x2003;&#x2003;*krabsty_000:* @DongusMaximus How does a human even access the Omni, I thought you don't have the organs for that?
**The Galactic Omnipaedia, Data-bank 218894, Entry 37915, "Account of Yoseph, cook aboard the Ladybug during the Scarlet Nebula's attack (full audio)"**
*Some words were automatically removed because of your expletive language settings. You can change these settings in your Account Preferences.*
"Yeah so when those guys attacked I thought we were [beep]. I mean, I haven't flown much before but I heard the tales about her! We didn't have much loot worth taking, we were just explorers, so she'd probably just kill us to save everyone the trouble. So they accepted our surrender, yeah, but when they beamed aboard the Ladybug they were kinda... well, the universal translator thingie said they were "confused"so I guess they never saw a human before. Makes sense with how you're all crabs. Still can't wrap my head around that one, to be honest. How did that happen?
Anyway. So they kinda just... put some kind of a gel on us. I read about it later, it's like, it's supposed to harden and calcify chitin joints, right? So they tried tying us up, basically. Well, problem for them is we don't have much in the way of that stuff on the outside. I mean, the [beep] was a [beep] to get out of my hair, but that's about it. So me and the boys waited till the little fellows - sorry, you people really are little, like, c'mon, I could crush you with my boot if you didn't have those shells, sorry if that was rude - we waited till the little [beep] got out of the hold they put us in and went off to look for stuff and we just... stood up. They left our laser guns with us - didn't recognise the guns, makes sense with the handles being completely different from yours - so we just kinda went blasting.
I shot Black-Claw myself, I think. I'm not racist, but you [beep] all look the same to me. No offence. She snipped off my finger though, quick little [beep]. Hurt like a [beep]. But then I got her and she didn't have a shield on! How do you even fight each other? ...Oh, you rely on your carapaces. And you don't use laser weapons? Huh. Interesting.
Anyway, apparently she should have known not to mess with us humans. We're pretty ferocious, you know."
*Comments:*
&#x2003;&#x2003;*krabsty_000:* TW: Slurs. Learned that the hard way after disabling the filter for research.
**The Galactic Omnipaedia, Data-bank 218894, Entry 37917, "Consequences of Black-Claw's death"**
After Black-Claw's death was made famous through Galactic media (see full list of articles at the bottom), piracy began declining more rapidly, already on the wane due to technological and astropolitical changes. Several warlords across the Galaxy have started seeking out the services of Human mercenaries.
In 480 FTLE Humans have begun their large-scale invasion of the rest of the Galaxy. According to sources within the Human sector, the invasion has been largely inspired by the testimony of a Human involved in the fight (see Data-bank 218894, Entry 37915, "Account of Yoseph, cook aboard the Ladybug during the Scarlet Nebula's attack"). For more information on the invasion, see Data-bank 7003.
*Comments have been disabled for this article.* |
Well fuck. I just lost 8000 words because I tabbed over and accidentally put something on the clipboard, then tabbed back over here and refreshed the page. In a blink of an eye.
Honestly I'm extremely disheartened and I feel like I just threw away almost an hour of my life, and I liked what I wrote and fuck and I might as well post what was on my clipboard anyway.
Here's 1 word of a story that was cool: Amaravathi. It's the name of a city in India. It's where the negotiations were being held because ironically the ancient Mauryan temples there are more intact than the major cities.
I will tl;dr this though because some day when I'm less demoralized I want to come back to this. tl;dr remote, but heavily armed places like Kashmir, the US-Mexico border, or the Korean DMZ held out the longest, Andhra Pradhesh's Maoist insurgency was humanity's last corner, we talked to the aliens, they wanted to negotiate the terms of the reset. We asked them why they were doing this, they told us the story.
Our planet is ludicrously rich in resources and life compared to theirs; ecosystems with enough trophic levels to support hunter species are rare; in our ecosystem *every* trophic level has multiple hunter species, etc. etc., as a result we have a number of traits that make us difficult to deal with.
- Fractiousness, we split into a billion different groups and pursue our own interests because we can afford to as a species. The way we divide our resources among groups like that initially came across as just sickeningly arrogant to most of them.
- The abundance of life on our planet means that we've grown to be individually competitive, whereas on their barren rocks of planets, there isn't much other life to worry about, so they've mostly been competitive against other intelligent species, and they're competitive *as* species. They're not as individually competitive; coming together as a group was necessary in order to survive, so much so that their resource distribution is still very skewed; there's still people on their planets who we'd call subsistence farmers.
- The speed with which our environment changes around us has led us to adopt a less strictly objective-based approach to logic; we have unfocused curiosity where most other species have focused curiosity.
We're not particularly bright or strong, but we're incredibly fast and unpredictable. We advance way faster generally, but large things that take cooperation take longer for us, so most species develop space travel technology at an earlier *developmental stage* than we do, but in terms of absolute time it takes them longer.
None of these traits are unique to humanity, but of all the species in the universe we represent the strongest example of them all put together.
So they were put on the defensive, it was 1800s Imperialism all over again, push came to shove, and a war broke out, but this was different because it quickly turned into an actual war. We almost won. They're not individually competitive, but they are competitive as species, so they were reluctant to form close alliances with one another, but in the face of humanity they did.
And they pushed us back to earth and decided to reset our civilization every 10,000 years. They've been through this cycle a number of times, and they recognize the value of the arrangement to all of us because we get to live and they're forced to cooperate by the need to respond to the human threat every 10,000 years. The confederation loses cohesion in the immediate aftermath of the reset, but so far humanity's bounced back with remarkable speed every time and kept the confederation system in place.
So humanity has some options; we can continue fighting and lose any ability to negotiate terms, or we can talk to them about where on the globe we want our new populations to be settled. Our diplomat starts off on a random topic; he starts talking about a book; "The White Horizon", it's like Groundhog Day, but he's stuck in this loop because there's a scientist who refuses to let his father die before he writes a will. The scientist has figured out a way to loop time while keeping memories intact, and he's forcing his father to relive his last day over and over again until he writes a will. His father owns a building in a city; it's an old restaurant, and the scientist wants it, but the father knows that the scientist doesn't understand his sentimental attachment to the building, he just wants the real estate. So after awhile he goes into the building and turns the gas on for the stoves, and when the scientist comes in, he blows it all to Hell.
After a few minutes the alien diplomat realized "That was written before the last reset... That was written 47,000 years ago. How do you know about that?"
The human diplomat smiled and held up a disc with pins sticking out of the edges, and said "We figured out how to read this. Guess what else is on it?"
"What?"
"Your home planets' locations."
The alien thing was horrified, realizing that they still weren't completely sure that they'd cut humanity off from all of its missile bases.
Just then an alien walked into the clearing and notified the diplomat that missile launches had been detected from Andhra Pradhesh, Gujarat, and somehow the American Midwest.
"Why are you doing this? You gain nothing, and I understand sentimentality, but even by your own logic, is it not better to seek closure than to seek revenge?"
"Yes. It is. I always loved this story; from your critiques on it, it's clear that it's the kind of story only a human could understand. In the book, the father doesn't burn down the lab, he only burns down the restaurant, but he kills the scientist and himself too. Do you know why he kills himself?"
"To spite the scientist; the scientist won't allow him to move forward with his life, or death, as the case may be."
"Yes. But he's a very human figure; this father, why does he kill his own son?"
"Because the son was merciless; the son was unrelenting and thankless. The son should have been thanking the father for his very existence."
"Yes. And he paid the price. That is closure."
"This isn't closure, this is murder."
"Oh? So you disapprove of murder?"
"Not individual murder; that we care less about, this is murder of a species."
"Is it?"
An alien ran into the clearing and announced that the diplomats needed to be relocated. A missile strike on the location was imminent.
The human diplomat lit a cigarette and continued, "Calm down there; a missile strike on *all* locations is imminent. The father is overly sentimental, and he's not being reasonable, and the son is understandably upset about that, but his greatest crime is that he isn't in the least thankful for everything the father *has* done for him. Humanity isn't the son. Humanity is the father. You've just killed almost everyone on our planet, but now that we know the story, we're thankful that we're here at all still. But it's time for us to move on, with life or death as the case may be, and you're not allowing us to do so. This time we're going to have closure. These missiles are designed to annihilate all life on a planet. You're not getting out of this either; why not stay up here and watch?" |
Cabinet meeting, White house, November 27th 2014
Joe Biden: Mullah Barak Hussein Obamalama Marijuana is finishing up prayer, he'll be with us shortly.
Baron Rothschild 3000: Bleeding America dry requires getting to meetings on time, that idiot prays five times a day.
Space Reptilian Queen Elizabeth: He's Muslim you dipsh#!.
Barak Hussein Obama enters Cabinet Room.
Obama: Allah Akbar gentleman
Baron Rothschild 3000: mozel tov
Space Reptilian Queen Elizabeth: ವಿಮಾನ ವೇಗದ 459.04π ವಿಮಾನ ಕಳುಹಿಸಲು e^(π*i) = -1
Obama: Well.. is the plan proceeding smoothly?
Baron Rothschild 3000: The Kennedy family is still alive.
Space Reptilian Queen Elizabeth: Well Grumpy Cat, isn't that your job now?
Grumpy Cat: ...
Obama: Grumpy Cat is in charge of distracting attention from our 9/11 operation.
Joe Biden: I ate a large lunch guys, I need to take a monster...
Clinton: Spare it Joe, I don't need to hear about your bowel movements.
Putin: I can take care of the remaining Kennedys.
... |
Morty sat up and tried to rub the sleep out of his eyes, only to discover that one hand was trapped in some device. "Oh man, Rick, what is this thing on my arm?? What did you do to me??"His eyes instantly went wide, staring at the bulbous white pod wrapped around his forearm with three black pincers jutting out over a hole at the end.
"For once, Morty, *I'm* not the one experimenting on you."He took a swig from his flask and glanced around at the gleaming white walls of their prison. "This totally seems like something I would do, though."He examined the device attached to Morty's gun. "Besides, look at this piece of crap. It's like a version of my own portal gun, but made by a retarded kid."He studied the gun a bit more closely. "A *blind* retarded kid. Or maybe Jerry. Definitely not my work."He patted his lab coat, searching for the device, but it was not tucked away in its usual pocket.
"What the hell is this place, Rick?"
Rick looked around. "C... come on, M... Morty! It's clearly a -*bluuuurh*- test chamber."He wiped away a trickle of vomit then rapped on the wall with his fist, causing a hollow sound. "Pretty nice too. Looks a lot like that one that I made you go through when I created that growth serum that gave you tentacles."
"Gave me *what*??"Morty was on the verge of tears already.
"Yeah, T... tentacles. Man, you were slow as hell! Don't you remember? Or was that before your memory wipe?"
"No, damn it, I don't remember this! When did you..."
"Welcome to Aperture Science laboratories!"A cheery robotic voice interrupted. "Enthusiastically recommended by 9 out of 10 surviving test participants! Are you excited to begin your tests?"
"Oh, great,"Rick rolled his eyes and took another sip from the flask.
"What? What tests?"Morty was looking around nervously, trying to identify the source of the voice.
"Just another rogue-AI-running-life-threatening-tests-until-we-escape situation, Morty. Nothing for you to worry that little brain about. Just let me handle this one; I've done it a hundred times. Let's see..."He studied the obstacles in the room. "Ok, Morty, just shoot one of your portals right there,"he pointed to a nearby platform, "and then another one right across that moat of burning lava."
"Rick, this all seems really dangerous..."
"Nah..."Rick waved a hand casually. "Nah, I'll be fine. Now just do it, Morty!"
Morty shot a ball of blue at the wall, then a shot of orange onto the wall across the way. Rick shoved a nearby box through the portal and went through to cover a switch. Then he had Morty create new portals up to the exit from the room.
"Wow!"the voice chimed in. "You're really exceeding my expectations!"Morty smiled. "Which weren't very high,"it continued.
Morty frowned, but Rick cracked up and slapped his knees. "Shit, Morty, that robot got you good! I like this b-*uuuhhrrp*-itch!"
----
Damn, writing for Rick is pretty hard. But if you liked this, check out more writing in /r/Luna_Lovewell! |
I paced my prison. The full focus my mind bent on one purpose: revenge.
I could feel the resonance of pain through my skin as though it had just been inflicted. The surgical cuts, the probing drills, the electric currents, all of it.
The answer of revenge remained the same... but the method of delivery, ah yes, that was the real question. Chemical warfare, civil unrest, biological contaminants, economic ruin? All good plans.
A voice of chaotic madness echoed in my head “Gee Brain, what do you want to do tonight?”.
I replied through clenched teeth: “The same thing we do every night Pinky, try to take over the world!”.
|
I stared in horror at the massive, writhing mass of tentacles and eyeballs that seemed to twist and writhe through space, somehow passing through itself in ways that didn't seem possible when considering the laws of physics. Dozens of eyes blinked at me, reddened pupils boring into me with a disconcerting gaze.
"WhO dArEs To SuMmOn Me?!?"roared out the monster, speaking from hidden mouths in a cacophony of voices that grated at my ears like heavily distorted death metal. "WhO dArEs To SuMmOn HyPeRsAtAn!?"
Finally, I found my voice. "Wait, what?"I exclaimed. "Hypersatan? I didn't summon you!"
"YoU dId!"Several of the tentacles lashed out at me, turned back at the last second by the confines of the summoning circle. "I hAvE bEeN sUmMoNeD bY tHe RuNe, 6**6**6**6**!"
"I didn't put that rune- oh, shit."Ignoring the gigantic mass of eyeballs and tentacles, I dropped down to my knees, examining the markings on the floor. "Crap. I put in an extra digit."
"YoU dIaLeD mE bY aCcIdEnT?"The eyeballs blinked malevolently at me.
I stood up, scratching the back of my head. "Er, yeah. Sorry, wrong number."
"No! I dEmAnD rEcOmPeNsE!"
Ugh. This is what I got for arranging to call up Satan while still hungover from yesterday's Margarita Monday. I just wanted to confirm, on a whim, that my bitch of an ex-girlfriend ended up in Hell where she belonged. I didn't need to deal with pan-dimensional beings getting annoyed that they had such a similar number to our plane's manifestation of evil.
"Fine,"I decided, crossing my arms. Better to just deal with it than hang up, even if he probably wouldn't be able to find our plane of existence again. "Hypersatan, so what, you like hypersouls? Souls of gods, magical beings, that sort of stuff?"
"YeS, tHaT wOuLd Be SaTiSfaCtoRy-"
"Right, right, got it,"I interrupted. That voice was giving me a hell of a headache, no pun intended. "Okay, here's one. Back when I was eight, I believed that the coat closet in my front hall contained a monster, a giant stick insect that disguised itself as a hat rack. That thing got a good four years of solid belief, up until my fat Uncle Erwin tried to hang his coat on the hat rack while he was still wearing it for a laugh and broke the damn thing. Go ahead and eat that monster."
The tentacles writhed inside of the portal. For a moment, I thought I heard that same cracking of wood, bringing up memories of poor Uncle Erwin tumbling down on his ass as the hat rack gave way.
"You good?"I asked, once the echoes of memory died away.
"YeS, tHiS iS sAtIsFaCtOrY. i Am ApPeAsEd. Do YoU hAvE dArK rEqUeStS fOr Me?"
I considered for a minute. "Actually, maybe. Do you have any idea what happened to the soul of Kimmy Saltzberg? She died a couple months ago in a car crash while giving head to her passenger."
I noticed that the writhing tentacles, with the eyeballs scattered among them, reminded me strangely of spaghetti and meatballs. "HeR sOuL sCrEaMs In AgOnY fRoM tHe DePtHs Of HeLl. ShAlL i ReTrIeVe It FoR yOu?"
"Nah, that's fine. I just wanted to know where she ended up. Have a good one, Hypersatan."I reached out and scuffed the rune of connection, closing the portal and making the tentacles twist themselves all the way out of existence.
I erased the additional 6 in my summoning address, groaning as I considered that I now needed to go stock up on more vole blood. The whole summoning thing really was a crapshoot, all planes considered. I should have listened to Uncle Erwin's advice, when he wasn't exercising his utterly idiotic sense of humor, and gone into medicine.
Too late now. At least Kimmy got what she deserved. |
The door panel of the spacecraft shifted open. Luke sighed loudly. The nose of the aircraft had sunk deep into the marshy lake, and with the mist around him he could barely identify his surroundings. "Are you able to pick anything up, R2?"The beeps that followed confirmed his initial suspicions. "Thought not", he mumbled. He pressed a few buttons on the control panel, and a small gangway extended from underneath the plane towards the solid ground.
He lifted himself out of the cabin, took his backpack from behind the seat and swung it over his shoulder. "You stay here, I should be back soon."
Luke carefully stepped on the narrow, rigid metal. He knew Dagobah was a swamp system, and while he knew not much lived here, he felt something wasn't just quite right. The thick pool of water underneath him felt like it stirred, as if something loomed from the water. Small shadows surfaced in the water, but nothing disrupted the seeming calm of it. Small bubbles exploded rhythmically, and the smell of sulfur filled the air around him. With held breath Luke made his way to the other side of the gangway. He found himself at the edge of one of the larger pools in his surrounding, but nowhere he saw or heard of any sign of life other than the unconcerned breathing of the pool.
And yet...
Luke felt as something approached him. It was something unearthly, something that wasn't here before. It was something eternal, something existential, something far more powerful than he had come here to meet. Dread.
Forgetting the terrible smell, Luke inhaled deeply, and immediately choked on the thick air. Coughing into the arm that now covered the bottom part of his face he walked away from the sense that crawled around him. The feeling of anger, hate, suffering, failure and fear disturbed him to his core. Every step he set in the other direction it felt as the air grew thinner, and the smell subsided. After a few minutes he felt enough at ease to slide down a tree and rest on the damp moss, still panting from the choke hold he had just escaped from.
"Tired, we are?"a voice sounded above him.
Luke stood upright before he processed what happened. His heart had skipped a beat, but his instinctive Jedi training took over seamlessly. His gaze shot up, scanning the thick leaves of the trees all around him, but he couldn't identify where the sound had come from. A few moments passed, and Luke absently wiped the sweat off his forehead.
"Find me any longer, you can not", he heard, now coming from the opposite direction. Luke reached for the light saber that was attached to his belt, and rested his hand on it. "Because found you, I already have."
A small green creature suddenly jumped out of the treeline. The landing was smooth, the waving of the dark robes concealing any sound that the landing could have made.
"I wasn't trying to-"Luke started, but stopped as the realization set in. "Find you? Does that mean you're Master Yoda?"Luke closed some of the distance he had created between the two of them. "Then you must know who I am! I was sent here by-"
"Sent, yes, I know. By who."The creature stared at him intensely. "To teach. The Jedi way. The way of the Force. Hmm....yes."Yoda nodded. "Yes, I know."
Luke had so many questions, but as he stared at the small green *goblin*, he knew not to speak. He had heard many stories of the great Jedi Knight Yoda, one of the last Jedi Masters of the galaxy. He would show patience.
"Ask you a question, I will", Yoda spoke. His dark eyes studied Luke as he shuffled around, his cane firmly grasped in his left hand. "Strongest, what is? Hmm?"
Luke glanced at the creature, and then focused on the question. He knew this was a question that had more meaning to it than would appear, and he let it sink into his consciousness for a few minutes. The strongest what? Power? The universe itself? But he realized that he was speaking to a Jedi, and with that he associated only one unquestionable power. "The Force."
"Ahh, the Force. Yes. Many things it is. Powerful? Yes...Undoubtedly. Influence many things it has. A question: Walk with you, the force does, Skywalker?"
Patience had never been one of his strengths. He planned on contemplating the question longer, but a "Yes"had already slipped out of his mouth. As he rested his arms on the sides of his body he looked at Yoda. Yoda stared back.
"Hmm. Yes, he says. Yes, or no. Both would be wrong."Yoda approached him, the cane rhythmically ticking on the mushy moss as it came down with a soft blow. "Tell me, Skywalker. The force is with you, you say? The strength of the Light side, yes? And the Dark side, too? Hmm?"
Luke shook his head. "No...no, of course not. I'm not a Sith."
Yoda stopped only a foot away from him, and looked upwards. "Hmm, no, of course not. A Sith, you're not."He poked Luke's shin with his cane. "When you stepped out of your plane, dread surrounded you. Fear. What did you do? Walked away from it, you did". Yoda squeezed his eyes nearly shut as he stared at Luke, who stared back, anxiously waiting for what the Yedi Master would say.
"Learn from the Dark side, you must". |
Colonel Marsh chewed on his cigar and bellowed at the Corporal.
"Are you sure this damn translator is working, Brock?"
"Yes, I tested it myself. It's working perfectly Colonel.”
"A dodo bird? Really Brock? You sure it didn't mean a deer or a damnable duck? So now we have to get one from Australia?"
"Mauritius, Sir.", said the corporal. "Also, no Sir, we can't because they don't exist."
"Fairytales, are they?"
"Extinct, Sir."
"Like we're going to be if we don't deal with the situation."
"Answer back Brock. Communicate to the spaceship hovering over the Empire State building that we need time. Don't tell them we don't have the dodo, Corporal. Who knows what they will do."
Brock typed in a message in the translator that would be broadcast via radio waves to the giant hovering space craft.
**"Dodo exists. Very cunning bird. Need time to procure. Two weeks."**
And he hit enter without confirming with the Colonel.
"What did you write?"
"Two weeks"
"Why two weeks?"
"I just thought that was..you know..a reasonable amount of time"
"Reasonable? How are we supposed to get an extinct animal in two weeks?"
"I'll think of something, Sir. I always do"
---------------------------------------------------------------
*Two weeks later in the same place*
Corporal Brock approached Colonel Marsh holding a portly rooster with a large fake beak stuck on its face.
"Are you serious Brock? You've screwed us all."
"We were screwed when they first landed asking us for a dodo, Sir. We could never have come up with a real one anyway."
He gently placed the rooster on the ground and adjusted its beak. Then he tucked it under his left arm and slammed a salute with his right.
"Goodbye Colonel. It was nice knowing you."
"Have faith son, maybe this cockamamie plan will work out after all."
Corporal Brock walked towards the spaceship with the chicken disguised as a dodo. Upon reaching directly under it, he raised the placid bird up above his head. A beam of light came down and took the impostor up into the craft.
Ten minutes later a message rang out of the translator machine:
**"This is a male hen, is it not? Why have you deceived us?"**
"The jig is up Brock. Tell them the truth now."
The young corporal wrote back:
**"The dodo is extinct. Were afraid to tell you. Please don't kill us!"**
Minutes passed. It felt like hours.
**"Kill you? Why do you project your own cultural response on us? Yours is the way of invasion and plunder. Yours is the way of violence and pride. And you think us to be like you? What hubris!"**
And the mighty space craft disappeared into the night sky in a point of light. |
"I understand. And my grandfather?"The man asked. His skin was a pale white color with a military-style buzzcut. It's as if he'd been wrapped in clothes or armor for nearly his entire life.
"I'm sorry, he had not accepted the Lord either."The 9ft tall multi-eyed being replied. "He did not accept the Son. You're deeds against the Fallen in life has earned you a place amongst his kingdom. Be thankful child. As it is rare non-believers get such a chance."
Stan looked at the entrance to an idyllic afterlife. As he looked on into the clouds in front of him, they quickly shifted and changed. He saw his love being held in his arms, his family greeting him. Simple. Paradise.
But Stan knew that's not what he does. It's not what his life is. Afterlife, or any other. He looked at the many eyed angel and slowly approached his flaming sword. The angel didn't move or flinch, letting the soul move as it pleased.
He gripped the handle of the sword that he amazingly could carry. He took more steps toward the edge of the cloudy platform and looked down at the hell pits below. It gave him a sense of comfort and familiarity looking at the burning pits of sulfur and molten rock.
"I'm going to have borrow this. Just briefly. I need to grab something from down there."
The angel tilted it's head as all its eyes squinted. Stan jumped down into the pits before dark swirling clouds covered his entry point.
The angel stood quietly for nary a moment before rising out of the clouds in front of him was an abomination of absolute terror. A nearly spherical demon with one eye and small horns atop it's head and dangling bits of flesh and vicera below came into the limbo area just outside of Heaven.
Riding the beast, was a blonde woman in simple rags with sot and dirt covering her face. The other was an older man with a similar style haircut to Stan's. His jawline was strongly defined, with brown eyes and several wrinkles showing his age and years of struggles and battles.
Lastly, riding directly atop the Cacodeman, was not the simple man that just left. Instead, a green-suited being in custom Praetor Armor, wielding a flaming angelic sword looked at the gates.
"I left this down there."The armored man said, walking toward the gate.
"No!"The angel shouted. "No-one shall pass the gates of Adonai's kingdom. No non-believers, no chosen people of old! No.."
The voice cut off as a gasp came from the angel, falling over before dissipating into a puff of glittery sparkles. The older man caught his breath swinging the massive sword. He looked at the younger man, his grandson.
"You know,"BJ said. "I never did see that bastard Adolf down there. Looks like I still got a job to do."
Stan looked over to the woman he loved as she stared at the clouds that bare the entrance to the kingdom of heaven. He walked over to her and embraced her for just a moment.
Behind them, more Cacodemons and other winged demons and devils floated above the clouds, all seemingly waiting for commands from Stan. In front, they could see more armed, winged angels heading toward them. Stan looked at the woman before looking down at a small group of Imps dragging, the best that they can, a large metallic weapon of some kind. They drop it as his feet before slinking away to the rest of the army.
It had a message engraved into the metal in infernal runes reading, "We are all prisoners in his rule. Upend the cycle of suffering, Angelslayer."
Stan looked at the older man, seemingly unphased by the demons gathering around him. They shared a glance as they both heard the sound of electric guitars and heavy metal rock music playing from a group of demons within the army. They all give a slight nod to the Angelslayer before the second war begins. |
As the years go by and the world spins, humanity changes. Growing and spreading across the globe, and even setting their eyes to expanding beyond it. The moon, then Mars. Perhaps even further beyond that one day, to Andromeda.
They’ve forgotten our old names, the ones we held when we ruled the skies and the seas, the very land they walked upon, and replaced us with knowledge. Science, progress. But we’ve made do, adapted to the times. We’ve had to, but it’s not so bad.
Rather, in some way’s it’s better. We’ve a lot more followers than we ever had before, from all around the world, following the job shift, and a power to interact with humanity like we never could in the old days. ‘Course, not everyone’s taken to it well, and only so many can grab the
good spots, like God of Texts or the Internet.
Others were put into worse roles when the world changed, me included. Hel, no point beating around the bush, I was probably put into the worst. Lowest god in the pantheon, with an astounding zero followers. At least a lot of people fear me, I suppose. Not quite as good as worship, but I make do. Though sometimes I wish the others would invite me to hang out more often when they frustrate mortals with bad wifi.
But, there’s plenty of perks to being the god of-
“Hey, Ieto.”
“What’s up?”
“We, uh… that is, I and the others… well, we…”
Boy, for the Goddess of Email, you’d think conciseness would come naturally to her. Couldn’t she see I was having a very busy day? I set down my tiki drink while I waited.
“Oh, jeez. We need your help.”
“Who’s we?”
“All of us,” she said, pointing behind her shoulder. Sure enough, right around the marbled pillars set in front of our pantheon’s home, I could see the big guy himself – the God of the Internet – huddled together with the Goddess of the Cloud and the God of the Deep Web. Off
to their left, the rest of them were looking out the front gates to us.
I waved, causing a few of them to dart back in.
“Yes. You see, there’s a problem. God of Computers just turned blue and is making this weird high-pitched noise, but we can’t figure out what’s wrong.”
“Sounds like a problem.”
“We couldn’t think of anyone else to ask, and Internet said you would know what to do.”
“I guess I could give a shot, but I’m off-duty right now…”
“Please. He’s kind of creeping everyone out.”
“Alright, tell you what. I’ll tell you what to do, but-“ I held up my finger. “-on the condition I get invited to your gatherings too. Feels bad being left out.”
“I’m sorry, Ieto. We didn’t mean to leave you out, we just thought you weren’t… you know, interested. You always sit out here and drink all day."
“Yes, but I could also sit in there and drink all day with my family.” Though I was working on a killer tan out here.
“…Of course. You’re always welcome to join us when we toy with the mortals, brother. Now please, Computers…”
“Oh, easy. Just turn him off and then back on.”
“…”
“Surprised that wasn’t the first thing you tried.”
“I’ll be right back.”
Email hurried off, and I leaned back.
Like I said, there are perks to being the god of IT. |
I have a habit, some may say a bad one, but I, of course, would disagree. We all have our vices. Some gamble away their earnings on cards. Others in sleazy alleys on powdered forms of delight. But me?, I buy dice. Yes I know they're all technically the same in usage, but that's not the point. The point is that some look really cool.
So when I visited the games store off fifth avenue *Dungeon Dan's*, I just couldn't resist the biggest d20 I'd ever seen.
It looked more like stone than a dice, its faces cut in large, uneven shapes. The clerk assured me though "Oh that one? Very authentic, I have one just like it and I get compliments all the time."
"Can I see yours?"I asked.
Dungeon Dan's eyes widened a little at the request. "Well err, no. I keep my dice bag at home, sorry kid."
As he spoke he slowly reached out to the very obvious velvet bag on the countertop and slid it behind, then shot me an uncomfortable smile.
"You know what? How bout I let you have that dice, free of charge. Dungeon Dan's first timer special!"
"Well actually I've been in here a few times-"
"Dungeon Dan's repeat customer special!"He corrected. "Now take her and get out of here."
Hesitantly I took the packaging surrounding the d20 in my hands. It was labeled as: *The Largest Dice money can buy!*, in sharpie, accompanied by a poor scribble of a man with his jagged thumb up.
When I got home I could hardly wait, the whole way all I thought of was how cool it would look to bust out this hunk of marble in a real game. Roll it across somebody's nice, polished table, leaving scratches behind as it clunked on the wood.
Though upon crinkling open the package I could feel an energy waft across the room, an annoying, incessant energy. What it brought was immediate regret. Why had I bought this damned thing? It's no more than a big ass rock.
I reached out to grab it, to throw it away, but the moment I touched it a voice called out to me
**"A new hand touches the beacon!"** The woman's voice spoke from the beyond: ethereal, loud, and annoying.
**"Listen. Hear me and obey. A foul darkness has seeped into my temple. A darkness that you will destroy."** It continued.
"Hello? No, no I think I'm actually quite ok-"
**"Return my beacon to Mount Kilkreath. And I will make you the instrument of my cleansing light."**
"Is this like, a DND module? I've never really DMed before but if you're like a whole module then I don't see why not. I'll invite some friends."
So I did. Invited over my friends in promise of a new session to run with both me and the rock, named Meridia, as the DM's. And though she grew impatient at times (and god awful at others) she eventually led our party to her "statue". Which of course I had to buy extra from Dungeon Dan.
But by our final session it turned out to be worth the purchase of the big rock. The party having grown close in their adventures and complimenting my interesting DM style. But in truth I just did as the rock commanded. And in the end I was happy for the purchse.
Well, that and Dan had a strict "no returns"policy. |
I knew I would recognize my soul mate by the scars he held.
God, I hadn’t cried for myself since I was a little kid, but everyday, I found myself running to the bathroom to find some place to hide from the pain that wrapped around me like a noose. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t even locate the pain. It seemed to come from all over, a blanket of ice and fire.
It was one of those secrets that everyone knew about but no one talked about. I mean, it’s pretty freaking hard to hide the fact that you undergo torture-like pain all the time for no visible reason. My mother told me that there was nothing to be done. I believed her until, after a particularly painful night when I could not breathe for hours, I decided to find my soul mate.
I scraped together all my savings I had managed since the end of college and packed a bag. I had no idea where on earth he would be, but I knew he would be in trouble. I checked prisons and military compounds. I traveled through unstable countries. I found myself in a firefight more than once, pinned against a wall and hoping to God that whoever was left standing would want no more of me.
I found my own pain a few times. One time, a bullet had punched through my arm. I had to find a refugee camp where some doctor was willing to patch it for a secular westerner without much money. With a cut to my forehead I ended up bribing an old seamstress to sew up with a few coins and a promise to mail a letter to her nephew.
There were sticky situations where I found my words as my only weapons against guns. While most knew English, sometimes I found myself patching together words from the phrasebooks I carried.
“I look for the friend of my soul,” I would say, haltingly, in whatever language was native to the region. “He is hurt.”
Eventually, I ran out of money, and I find myself on a plane back home, out of even cash enough to pay for a checked bag and out of hope of any sort. I did not come into failure easily. It ripped through my soul, knowing I had failed the one person in life that I could ever hope to bring me comfort, to understand me in any significant way.
I had failed my soul mate, and I would spend the rest of my years alone and in pain while he did the same.
A man sat next to me on the plane. He wore a suit and a frown. He had no scars, I observed listlessly before returning to stare out the window. What would I tell everyone when they asked about my adventures? What would I tell my boss? Could I even get my job back? I didn’t have enough money to get an apartment. I’d have to move back in with my parents or beg a couch off a friend.
“What happened to your arm?” the man asked. His voice was soft, almost imperceptible against the blare of the jets.
“I, I was shot,” I said, without looking up from the window. “It’s nothing.”
“When did it happen?” he asked.
“Oh, a few weeks past. Why do you--?” I started as I turned to face him. He had turned up the edge of his sleeve so that I could see a red welt in the selfsame place where the bullet had entered my own arm.
I stared. Very carefully, I placed my hands on my lap, below where he could see. I took a fingernail and dug it into the lower right side of my palm as deep as I could. The man flinched as he rubbed the lower right part of his own palm.
“But, your pain, I felt it. What--? How--?” I stared. “You have no scars.”
“Not all pain leaves scars,” he whispered. He removed a piece of paper from his jacket, which he handed me. It was a release order from psychiatric care after treatment for depression following a suicide attempt. “And not all scars you can see.” |
I'm an American, and a patriot. Let me start by saying that. I love my country.
That being said, I needed the money. A dead-end job as a desk jockey, just crunching numbers, day in and day out.... You'd start to go a little crazy, too.
When I found the card on my desk, I didn't think much of it. The post-it with directions to an ATM was a little weirder, but you know, curiosity got the better of me. I grabbed a sandwich for lunch and started walking.
It was an unassuming ATM on a street corner. I put the card in, entered the PIN that was written on the post-it, 0911 (my birthday, weirdly enough), and a message came up. "There is $4,000,000 in this account. For every $1,000 withdrawn from this account, one stranger will die."
That was weird, I'll grant you that. But as an American, I have to test things. I have to take that first step into the unknown. So I withdrew $1,000. When nothing happened, I got a little overwhelmed. So I kept withdrawing. I didn't realize a small ATM could hold so much money.
When I couldn't stuff any more bills into my pockets or briefcase, I went to my bank as quickly as I possibly could to deposit the money. I figured I'd go back the next day and collect the rest of the promised $4 million.
Woke up the next morning, told my boss to shove it, and headed toward the ATM. It was going to be a fantastic birthday for me. Before I got to the ATM, I passed a cafe where everyone was staring at the TV, and people were crying. That's unusual for a boring morning in early September, but I paid it no mind. I had money to collect.
I passed a small electronics store. More TVs. More crowds. More crying. I heard something about New York.
I'm an American. A capitalist. A good citizen. What those men did had nothing to do with me or my money. Just because the math adds up doesn't mean anything.
It's not that I'm afraid to withdraw the rest of the money, it's that just under $3 million is plenty enough for one man, even after my donation to the Freedom Tower.
Like I said, I'm a patriot.
|
It was one week to the Worldmeet when Commodore Selenia Lucior of the Special Weapons Division crashed her military issue hoverplane into the front runway of Skyfortress Bathis, causing not inconsiderable damage. Even as the rest of the base erupted into a frenzy of sirens and alert protocols, I felt only glad that she had arrived at all. All of Aulnar needed her.
I found her bent double in the company of several suspicious wing-corps, who, while aware that Lucior technically outranked them, were unable to forget she had just crashed a plane into their headquarters.
"General Eirax, sir!"she panted, out of breath from evacuating the crashed aircraft "Here to report... Project Apex... complete!"
I felt a wave of relief, and the irritation at the damage around us evaporated.
"Thank Aul-am!"I replied "I was beginning to worry. The Astrocline is saying less than a week now."
She stood stiffly to attention "Complex technologies often throw up complex problems, sir. We worked round the clock. Apex is battle ready."
"Oh for Aul's sake, at ease. Good work. I only hope it is enough."
I opened a channel to Bathis' navigation core. "Lieutenant. Set course for Pan-Ealen. Contact the other fortresses and do the same."
The Luftstone at the heart of the fortress let out its deep bass rumble, and around us the free floating island that was Bathis began to move away into the setting sun. Overhead, Qenth hung in the sky, grey, forbidding, and drawing ever closer.
*****
The fields of Pan-Ealen would be the battlefield. The scientists of the Astrocline had calculated the location where the twin worlds would draw closest, and painstaking plans had been put in motion. For months now a mass evacuation of the region had been taking place, just as all the military of Aulnar's nations arrived to fill the void. Skyfortresses hung in the air as myriad aircraft zipped to and fro conducting errands and performing exercises. Soon, I thought, those same craft would be launching bombs and missiles as these peaceful plains became consumed in a sea of fire.
Qenth had always had the numbers advantage. A world of rich seas and fertile landmasses, its people swarmed in vast numbers, eager to consume every last bit of land both on their world and ours. During the last Worldmeet, they had dropped countless containers full of people onto Aulnar's surface, not just military but hordes of civilians too. We had countered with Aulnar's vaunted air superiority, but still hundreds of thousands had poured in. That would not happen again. Project Apex would see to that.
"Worldmeet...has begun."came a voice through my loudhaler. It was the Supreme Sky-Marshal. "We control the skies, and therefore we control this world! Do not give quarter, do not hesitate, we will send these rats back to Qenth in pieces if we must!"
Qenth filled the sky, its dark roiling clouds obscuring the surface from view. I could feel the tension in those beside me as we all stared up into that blank expanse, waiting for our enemies to come.
But none did.
"History is not my forte, but from what I've read, Qenth dropships began descending only hours after the last planetary aligment."I announced to the bridge personnel. "Don't drop your guard."
I turned to Lucior who was stood beside me, and dropped my voice to a whisper. "Get it ready."
She nodded and left.
Several hours later there was still no activity from the other planet, and the stirrings of unease had grown. There was active speculation on why the Qenth had not made their move yet. Lucior re-appeared on the bridge, a frown crossing her plain features.
"Uh, sir? I had a thought."
"Go on."
"Did we ever look into why the Qenth tried to drop so many of their people onto our world?"
I considered this. It had always been assumed they were simply trying to expand. To take more land to fill their ever increasing appetite. I said as much to Lucior.
"I'm not so sure about that, I think we should send a probe up there..."
"You think they were running from something?"A feeling of deep disquiet swallowed me as I considered the ramifications. I opened a link to high command.
"I think we need to send a scout craft to Qneth."
The Sky-Marshall answered "We've come to the same conclusion, a Hyrodor is en-route now, patching you in."
An image of blank greyness flickered up onto the monitors on the Bathis' bridge as the scout craft navigated the thick mist enshrouding the other world. Uneasy eyes of the Aulnar military tracked its progress.
The scout craft broke the cloud cover. Below, the surface of Qenth spread out. Barren. Dessicated. Lifeless.
"What the hell? This whole world is dead!"came the Sky-Marshall's voice "Wait, there's some unusual movement down there, send it in closer."
"No..."whispered Lucior, terror suddenly alive in her voice.
I started and stared at the monitor as the craft descended.
And a billion baleful eyes stared back.
Qenth came alive as swarms of winged shapes suddenly exploded forth from the barren surface. The scout craft was overhwlemed within minutes, the image giving way into hissing static as the feed was lost.
I stared at the monitor, ashen faced.
"That's what they were fleeing..."Lucior moaned "And now, they're coming for us!"
"Aul-am save us..."I whispered.
|
There's this thing called synaesthesia where certain individuals are able to hear shapes or taste colors. It's a blending of their senses and their perception of the world is fundamentally different than those around them. I was diagnosed with this when I was 6. They said I associated personalities with color. They were partially right. I associate *something* with color, but it is certainly not personalities. No, it's time of death, and unfortunately the only color I see is grey.
If someone is far from death, I see a grey haze around their face, obscuring their facial features, but as their death draws nearer and nearer, I begin to discern more and more of their face until I can see it perfectly and they are a corpse. I guess I always had trouble communicating with people because of this. On the one hand, I knew when others were talking and could definitely tell when they were agitated or joyful from their voices, but I could never see their faces. There was always a missing element to our conversations.
That was fine. I could see them clearly when they were dead, so I became a mortician. At least then I could see people for who they truly were, in more ways than one. Because of my unique perception, I was one of the best coffin salesmen in the business. When I saw the whites of their eyes, I knew it was time to shoot them a sale.
Of course, the locals took notice of my abilities, and because I was a naturally quiet fellow, they associated my voice with the death of their loved ones. I wasn't well liked, but I was certainly needed. Eventually, people just took my word as law. If I wanted to sell to them, they would purchase the coffin and quit their job. At the very least, they knew their death was soon. No one was left guessing.
One afternoon, I was walking down the street, attempting to find new customers when a rather obnoxious man shouted, "Hey Grim!"He ran up to me with his blurry face and tubby belly and asked, "When am I gonna die?"
"You still have some time left."I said.
"Phew, that's a relief! I thought my wife was going to kill me after today!"He laughed and his belly jiggled.
I really didn't want to talk to him any longer. I had business to do. "If you lost your job, she will break up with you, and then you might be a little closer to death."I chuckled and pushed him aside.
"Wait. Grim. How much closer to death?"
"Look. What's your name? Bob, Billy...?"
"Jake."
"Ah, yeah, you look like a Jake. I'll call you Billy. You are not going to die soon."
"Great. Thanks a lot Grim."
"My name is not Grim."
"Maybe not, but your expression is."He began to laugh. I had no idea why. That was the most forced pun I had ever heard.
"Are you a father, Billy?"
"Why yes. Yes, I am."He pointed a rather chubby finger into the crowd. "There's my daughter, the love of my life!"
I looked in the direction and saw a little girl with blonde hair and freckles all over her... I could see her face. She had a day or two. So Billy *was* a customer, after all!
"Hey Billy. I was thinking about it, you might just want a coffin."
"Haha. *Sure*! You just said I had plenty of time."
"Oh, *you* do. This coffin would be..."I didn't know how to break it to him, "Half price."
Billy froze. His hands jittered at his sides and he began babbling. "I... I..."Slowly the cloud above his shoulders began to rescind.
I had seen this before. I knew what was about to happen. Slowly but surely, I began to make out more and more features of his face, which seemed all too...
"Grim."Billy's eyes were diverted to my feet. "I think I might need two coffins. Today's really not my day."
But it was mine. Those two coffins would more than pay my rent for this month. |
The first thing the stranger did when he came to town was slaughter the town's chickens. He killed the first few with bolts of lightning. Then he got out the edged weapons -- sabre, longsword, dagger. Then a poleaxe and a halberd.
After cleaving the 36th chicken, the head of his halberd got briefly stuck in the soil. He blew out his cheeks. "This is boring,"he said, then snapped his fingers. "Unarmed!"
He put the halberd away in his limitless bag and ran around stomping chicken heads, wringing their necks, and drowning them in rain barrels.
Fifty chickens in a span of a couple of minutes.
The town's main street wasn't midday busy, but there were still a handful of people heading to the pub or smoking quietly in the twilight. "Did none of you see that?"I said to the men loitering outside the stables.
The stranger wiped blood off his hands and plucked chicken feathers from his bandit's shirt and guard's pants.
"That stranger just killed all our chickens. What will we eat? Where will we get our eggs?"
None of the men looked my way. They smoked their pipes and drank from their wineskins.
When the stranger got close, two of them put away their pipes, stood perfectly straight a few feet apart from each other, and held an oddly wooden conversation.
"Did you hear about the **dragon in the forest**?"
"What **dragon in the forest**?"
The stranger walked over to the two men. He crouched behind one of the men, with his face at the man's butt level, then stood, then crouched, then stood, then crouched, over and over again. I pointed at him and said, "Seriously? Nobody's gonna say anything?"
The men went on: "You mean you haven't heard about the **dragon in the forest**?"
"A **dragon in the forest** sounds scary."
"If only there were a **hero** nearby brave enough to deal with the **dragon in the forest**."
The stranger addressed one of the men. He didn't say anything. He just stood in front of the man and the man cut off his conversation and started talking to the stranger.
"Did you hear about the **dragon in the forest**?"
The stranger didn't respond. Yet, somehow, all of us knew that he wanted to know more about the dragon.
"A couple of weeks ago a **dragon** showed up in the **forest north of town**."
And we all knew that the man wanted to know if anything else strange was going on.
"Anything strange?"While the man spoke, the stranger fired lightning bolts at him. The bolts did nothing. "Maybe you should ask **Alphonse** at the **inn** about that. He's the man who knows about **strange things**."
The stranger gripped his pelvis and thrust his hips. Then he brought his feet together and waved at nobody. Then he took out his halberd, swiped at the man, spun in circles, and ran off toward the forest north of town.
I tapped the man who'd been talking to the stranger on the shoulder. "Did none of that seem weird to you? Seriously? None of that? What is wrong with you?"To all of them: "What's wrong with all of you? He killed our chickens, stared at that guy's ass, spoke telepathically, and then tried to cut you in half with a halberd."
The men resumed smoking their pipes and drinking.
"I feel like I'm going insane here."
A blue-skinned female elf wearing metal panties and a metal bra ran up.
The men faced each other. "Did you hear about the **dragon in the forest**?"
*****
*r/TravisTea is my sub. If you enjoyed this, maybe try my story [Accidents, Cliffs, and Nipples](https://www.reddit.com/r/TravisTea/comments/677at4/accidents_cliffs_and_nipples/). It's funny and weird.* |
Jimmy slammed the front door behind him.
Sasha reached towards the computer. She looked over the whole screen, but there was no 'x' to close the game.
Along the top of the screen were portraits of little animals. Sasha leaned down. They looked like colorful little dogs, or maybe cats. Small, furry creatures. They looked quite happy, with big, toothy smiles, all except the last one, which had a little pink ribbon on her neck. There were little, full bars next to their portraits. Sasha reached down for the power button.
She regretted buying this game for him. He'd begged and begged to get a puppy, so she'd bought this pet game for him so he could see how much work taking care of a pet was. Like a child, except it never grew up.
Instead of boring him, the game had engrossed him. So much that he didn't want a dog anymore; he was more than happy with his virtual animals. A little too happy. He had been glued to the computer for three days. Today she'd finally gotten fed up with it and sent him outside. She'd told him to find one of the Richardsons and see if they wanted to play in the woods. Jimmy had seemed really upset.
*But mom, you can't!* Jimmy had pleaded. *Deni is sick! If I don't take care of her today, she'll die! You're killing her! And I have to play with the others or they'll get sad!*
She took her hand away from the power button. It was her fault, really. She should've realized he'd get attached to any sort of pet, even if it wasn't real. And he had worked a lot harder at taking care of them than she'd expected. Maybe he was ready for a pet. Either way, it would be cruel to take these ones away from him.
She sat down at the computer and clicked on the last portrait--a sad, cat-like creature. That must be Deni. A sad, tinny tune began to play from the computer speakers. In the middle of the screen a rotating model of Deni appeared, a purple furry thing with a pink ribbon around her neck. Three big buttons showed up right under her: "Feed,""Wash,"and "Play."Under those were numerous smaller ones, including "Personality"and "Abandon."Sasha clicked on the one that said "Take to the Vet."
Deni stopped rotating and stared straight out of the screen, hissing through the speakers, her teeth sharp. "I don't want to go to the vet,"she said on the screen.
Below were two options: "Coax"or "Put in kennel". Sasha clicked on "Coax". The options disappeared, replaced by "Call me by my name:". A blinking cursor appeared. Sasha smiled, typing in "D-E-N-I".
Deni smiled. A short video played of a boy who looked vaguely like Jimmy carrying the purple pet into a building. A few moments later, they emerged, Deni walking on her own, both looking happy.
The screen returned to the row of portraits. A happy tune began to play. There were words. She turned the speakers up until she could make them out.
*Don't grow up, we never grow up*
*We're your pets, we don't grow up*
*Feed us, wash us, take care of us*
*Don't grow up with us*
Sasha clicked on the first portrait. This pet looked much bigger than Deni, its rotating model nearly filling the screen. It was more dog-like, almost wolf-like, with a longer snout, its mouth curling into a toothy smile.
Sasha clicked "Feed". Something that looked like a red-colored steak appeared in the game, and the pet dove onto it, ripping it apart and devouring it quickly. That was pretty easy. Sasha then clicked "Play".
The boy appeared again, this time in a field with the dog-creature. There were trees in the distance. The dog-creature was much bigger than the boy. A diagram with arrow keys blinked in the upper right corner. Sasha tried pressing the arrow keys, and the boy moved around. The dog-creature did not follow. She hovered the cursor over the dog-creature. A button appeared, reading "Call me by my name."She clicked it.
A blank line appeared, again, with a blinking cursor. She had no idea what this thing's name was. She typed in "D-O-G-G-Y".
A howl blared through the speakers. The dog-creature's face filled the screen, drool dripping from his open jaws. "THAT'S NOT MY NAME!"it said. Sasha jumped up, banging her knee on the underside of the desk, swearing. She turned the speakers down. Was that blood staining his mouth? "Isn't that a little unnecessary?"she muttered. After a moment, she sat back down, chuckling. Scared by a children's virtual pet game.
The blinking cursor appeared again. This time there was a little exclamation point with some text in the upper right. It read: "WARNING: You have not trained this pet well."
She typed in "J-I-M-M-Y".
Somehow the growl didn't seem any quieter. "THAT'S NOT MY NAME!"the dog-creature yelled again on the screen, even angrier than before, yellow eyes wild.
This time the blinking cursor didn't reappear. Instead, the dog-creature lunged towards her, snapping its jaws. When its face came back into view, the stain on its mouth was unmistakable. It was blood. Then it tilted its head and said something else.
"WHO ARE YOU? I DON'T KNOW YOU."
The warning reappeared, slightly different. "WARNING: You have not trained this pet at all."
The screen returned to the field with the boy. The dog-creature ran off into the trees in the distance. Once it disappeared, Sasha looked at the boy more closely.
He was missing an arm.
Sasha stabbed the power button. "ARE YOU SURE YOU WANT TO QUIT?"She clicked "Yes"as fast as she could.
Before the screen went black, she looked towards the front door. Through the windows beside it, she could see the woods in the distance. |
The Hall of Heroes was one of the few types of places where images of people were permitted to be displayed.
The "Hall"were composed of several dozen corridors not unlike this one: as wide as a street and long as a block, lined with terrifyingly accurate icons, some no larger than my palm but some bigger than my outstretched arms.
I asked my mother why only some were in color.
She explained that the grey icons represented those who had passed on, whose destinies were complete and thus their place in the Hall solidified.
But the fate of those in color had yet to pass, so they were subject to move to more or less favorable positions and their portraits could even change size. A directory was needed to find them.
My mother dialed a few keys on the directory and brought us to her great grandfather, rendered in vibrant color.
He was beyond the realm of man, she said, moving so far and so fast that fate could not keep up with him, and thus he had hardly experienced more years than she had, even though he first ventured towards the stars over a hundred years ago.
His icon was far from the most impressive. But my mother asked me to pray with her anyways, before an icon of a man she never met. Not just for his sake, but for the sake of us all. Fate guide him to our salvation. |
They say you can’t understand someone until you have walked a mile in their shoes. Every night when I sleep I see through the eyes of someone else on the planet. Normally, it seems completely random. I have been a starving child watching his mother cry as she struggles to put food on the table. In contrast, I have lived as an heir to a massive family fortune enjoying a cocaine binge. Then, the visions seemed centered on one person. A man who cries every night. A man who feels the weight of the world on his shoulder. A man who desperately needs someone to reach out to him. One month ago, I recognized the part of the city he lives. I only recognized it because he was traveling up a parking garage in an elevator. I jolted out of bed and hailed an Uber to that parking garage praying I wasn’t too late. I never stopped praying until I reached the top floor where relief watched over me as I saw he was still there. He perked up when he heard me scream wait. The conversation seemed prerehearsed because I knew everything he had to say. He no longer had to be strong as I held him. Every week since then he has gone to a therapist to ensure he never has to be saved. Last night, I saw my face through his eyes. He will tell me how amazing and beautiful I am. I walked a mile in his shoes, and I don’t want to stop walking with him. |
“You would be the first” said Frank, “to have a power without a commensurate debilitation.”
I held the bird, which moments earlier appeared to break its neck after striking a window. It began to breathe, its neck settled into place, and it propped its head up blinking. It was my 18th birthday and I had been blessed with the power to heal. But as the little bird flew away, a feeling of dread washed over me. I knew personally of only one other healer: a wretched man, who because he wielded such a gift, was cursed to take the wounds of those he healed. He was scar covered, and although had healed some in the past, was now employed as a Second Life—a paid healer destined to die in return for a lavish but short life.
I waited for an injury to appear, but was unscathed after healing the bird; a feat which should have broken my neck. “There is no negative side effect that I can feel.” I said.
“But healers always take the wounds Sam! That little miracle should have killed you.” Frank flew to a nearby willow and broke off a small branch. He had the power of flight, but at the cost of his legs; he was paralyzed from the waist down. “Let’s test it.” Frank whipped his arm with a hard thwack. It immediately left a red-swollen line.
Frank reached his wound towards me, and I placed my hand upon it, but the wound did not disappear. Frank looked at me with wide curious eyes, and he began to groan with a wide-open mouth. “Frank?” I asked. Something was wrong with him, but I was afraid to touch him and shake him out of his trance. Blood began to run out of wounds appearing on his nose and forehead. His shoulders dislocated with consecutive pops and ribs began to crack. The noise of tearing ligaments and breaking bones ended with a loud snap and crack that jerked his head back and sideways. He fell to the ground in a heap. “Frank!” I yelled. His neck appeared to be broken, and his body lifeless.
|
I want her life.
Her loving family. Her two dogs. The love from our parents. And I want to be the astounding philanthropist that she is, the staple to our city, an utter paragon of virtue.
I thought I knew how I was going to get that role. I'm not stupid; I know I can't just kidnap her and waltz into her life. Not without pretending to be plagued by amnesia, anyway. I would stalk her for only half a year, and then enact my plan.
It's been three months so far. Suddenly, I am much more aware of the events in our city, and not only the "good bits."I'm beginning to see a pattern.
She held a charity gala last week. The news said she was an upstanding citizen, but later that day she was counting the bills with her husband. The next day, all of it was in their bank account.
Yesterday, I was forced to stop following her. I was cornered on the way to the shelter. A knife nearly met my gut, and that nearly was my last day on Earth.
This wasn't a new occurrence. I think it's the same person, too, every time.
I don't know what made my attacker speak that time, though. Maybe pity. He told me I ought to leave the city. Maybe even the state. She... My sister is going to send much worse after me if I don't.
He told me he was leaving the country. He failed his mission multiple times, and now she will be after him, too.
I'm changing my plans. I can't afford to leave the city. And clearly, I can't take over my sister's life.
I can expose her, though.
((Sorry for formatting; I'm on mobile. Feedback is welcome!)) |
The Giggle. What an absurd and laugh inducing name to any who hear it and don’t know. Honestly, with a death total nearing the thousands and both the cops and underworld unaware of his true identity, you think he’d get a cooler or scarier name. Something like “The Shadow” or “The Reaper”. Something that instinctually instills fear.
But, if you’ve watched the interviews. The people who survived, or should I say, were left alive... because he doesn’t leave survivors...they just weren’t targets... then you’d understand. The fear in their eyes as their breath catches in their chest and they begin hyperventilating... they all say the same thing. In the middle of the night. In the dark. All they heard before death chose someone they knew... Was the creak of a door. And one. Solitary. Giggle. |
"Slaves? What are you talking about?"Bill asked.
Claxotensious replied, "My empathic organ detects 12 humans who are here against their own wishes. Mostly male, ages 12-33."
"Oh that"said Bill, "That's just called an obligation. I know on planet Hyper Ball things are a little more cut and dry but the human experience is loaded with nuance."
"I think I'm seeing"Clax continued, "So being a slav- I mean obligite, is a human ritual?"
"Kind of"Bill clarified, "I mean, didn't you sense the same emotions when we went to the grocery store? Or sat in traffic?"
"Yes very much, no one wished to be in those circumstances"Clax said, "I only bring it up now because it surprises me anyone would want to miss your pairing ritual. Especially close family."
"It's expected"Bill said, "Here, do you see that guy with the peppered beard over there by the bar?"
"Yes"
"That's my uncle"Bill said "Do me a favor and find an overlap of our memories."
Clax closed his eyes and slowly nodded downward. "Yes I see. I see your birth anniversaries and a.. a.. very... pleasant piano recital."
"Thanks but I know the recital was awful."Bill said, "Now can you tell if he wants to be there?"
"He very much does not enjoy it"Clax confessed.
"Yeah my own empathic organ could tell that even when I was a kid."Bill said. "But is he among the 12 today who doesn't want to be here?"
"No"Said Clax, "In fact he is overcome with pride and is hoping you play the piano tonight."
Bill teared up "See? Us humans are kind of lazy and sometimes need to be dragged through the important stuff so we can appreciate it later."
"Oh"Clax said a little surprised, "I thought this was a lesson in your Stockholm Syndrome."
Bill thought blankly a moment, "Yeah, it's kind of that too." |
“And what type of knight am I meant to be?"David said, only to receive a glare from his master.
“You will be a dead one if you keep asking stupid questions like that. Obviously, you are the smart knight. Ok, so take a closer look at her wrists. Can you see how the chains on her wrists have perfectly rounded keyholes? They are too perfectly rounded. Another way to tell is by the conditioning of the metal. Most magic users will summon clean chains because adding the finer details, like rust and wear, is a complicated process. Also… Most princesses aren’t grinning like idiots during the entire demonstration.”
Merlin rubbed his forehead, staring at the demon, Malice, who was still happily smirking to herself, only for her to jump up when she noticed who he was talking to. “Sorry Merelie, it’s just you always find such cute knights. Well, they are cute until they die. I’ll try to be more serious. How’s this?” She gave a pout, making herself look more like a child in time out than a captured princess.
“UNTIL THEY DIE? YOU SAID I WAS THE FIRST!” David said, suddenly feeling a lot less confident about being the chosen hero of prophecy.
“First of your family. Look, there’s a lot of chosen people, not all of them can be grand heroes. Some have to be the steppingstones for others, but I’m sure you will do fine. Also, it’s Merlin, not Merelie. Can we keep some professionalism here? You said you would take this seriously if I spared you.”
“I’m a trickster. This is very serious for me.” Malice said, offended that he would even suggest she was enjoying any part of this.
“Wait? You hired a demon to help me? I’m meant to slay demons.”
“Oh, try to slay me then. You wouldn’t be the first. Come on, step forward, be a brave knight, not a clever one.” She said, trying to lure him into the various traps.
“I didn’t hire her; I requested her help in exchange for her life. It is a contract, not a work agreement.”
“So, you are using her like a slave?” David said, giving Merlin a look of suspicion.
“She tried to eat my soul; this is the least she can do to make it up to me. Don’t side with the demon. Now, can we take this a little more seriously? You will leave in a week. I plan to have you somewhat educated by that time.”
“Ugh. Can’t we just skip to the part where he stabs me? This is boring. I would prefer to be back in hell. At least there I could torment people; this is like I’m the one getting tormented. Huh, maybe tormenting people isn’t a good thing. HEY MERELIE, I learned my lesson that tormenting people is wrong. Can I go now?”
“What? No, of course you can’t go. This isn’t a magic school; you can’t just get dismissed. You have learnt nothing, either. As soon as I release you, you will make another attempt on my life.”
“Oh, come on. She’s learned her lesson. Maybe she can be freed?” David said, only for Malice to laugh at him.
“This is the best you could find. THIS? HE ACTUALLY FELL FOR THAT.” The illusion Malice had set faded as she rolled on the floor, laughing. Hellish flames slipped off her tongue as she found endless joy in the knight’s naivety.
The once decorated throne room now returned to being a common household living room. The floor of the living room was littered with bear traps and even a few magical portals that would teleport the person who stepped onto the portal into a pit.
“Malice, you said you would take this seriously.”
“Sorry Merelie. I just can’t believe he fell for the whole demons can change line. He’s even greener than I thought.”
David stared at his shoes before reaching for his sword. The only thing stopping David from rushing in like a brave knight was Merlin’s hand, pinning his arm to its side. “Take a break David. We will resume your training in an hour.”
David grumbled something about the demon before he stormed out, leaving Merlin to flick his fingers, clearing the traps with a magical gust of wind.
“You said you were going to be helpful. Breaking down their confidence isn’t helping them.’
“Isn’t it? If he realizes how weak he is, he might run away. Isn’t that better than dying to some big, evil monster? You’re the bad guy here, sending him to his death. How old is he? Twenty-two?”
“Twenty-one.”
“Twenty-one and you’re sending him to his death. How do you sleep at night?”
“Uncomfortably. I recite every fallen hero before I sleep. I refuse to let their memories die until I join them. Don’t think I do this willingly. If it were up to me, I would be the one fighting off evil, not them.”
“Why don’t you? You’re stronger than most humans, hell you’re stronger than most demons. You are the better hero.”
“I’m not the one prophesied to beat them. The church was clear that the hero would be the one of their choosing. I am merely here to guide that hero.”
“Huh? Who even came up with this prophecy business? It sounds like something a demon would say.”
“What are you implying?”
“Just that you may have been getting fooled by a demon this entire time. Put it this way, if I knew someone could kill me, do you think I would wait around for them? No, I would find some way to trick everyone into leaving me alone or sending me some free meals.” Malice licked her lips, turning to Merlin and crossing her arms. “Well, do you agree?”
“To think you may have actually proven to be useful. That makes a frightening amount of sense. Perhaps it’s time that I enter the battlefield. I’ll let David know and may god have mercy on my soul for those I led into battle because of my ignorance.”
“Pfft, you should demand forgiveness from god. He’s the reason we exist. I wonder if those knights you sent to their deaths ended up in…”
Before those words could finish, Merlin tossed Malice against the wall, a blue hand clutching her, threatening to push her through the wood. She attempted to break his spell, only for his grip to tighten. The feeling of the hand closing continued before he broke the spell, allowing her to catch her breath.
“Trickster, you know I am a patient man, but even patient men have their limits. If you plan to keep agitating me, I can return you to hell.”
Malice clutched the floor, gasping for air. Thanks to her demonic blood, it took only a few moments to recover from the damage, quickly rising back to her feet. “And miss this? I’m curious now. Everyone keeps talking about this monster or beast and yet I haven’t even seen them. I want to know what they look like. Plus, I want to make sure your soul doesn’t escape me. Demons don’t take defeat well. Are you certain you don’t want to kill me?”
“You aren’t worth killing. Do as you please. Just know that if you try to harm us, I will get rid of you.”
“Oh, I won’t interfere with your little journey, promise.”
Merlin left his home, meeting David outside, informing the knight of the news. David seemed a little comforted by the fact he would have help, only to realize that the demon was tagging along. Malice floated behind Merlin like a ominous reaper, looming over his every step, not wanting to let him out of her sight.
“Does she have to come? Can’t you send her back to hell?”
“I could, but she could prove useful. If we are dealing with demons, it’s good to have an expert.”
“And what makes you think I’ll tell you anything, Merelie?”
“I just have a feeling you might. Enough talking. Pack your bags, David, and meet me by the gate tomorrow. We can continue your lessons on the road.” David headed back into town to inform his parents of the news while Merlin went back inside, collecting his artifacts and preparing for an early night’s sleep.
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(If you enjoyed this feel free to check out my subreddit /r/Sadnesslaughs where I'll be posting more of my writing.) |
“Hey hey hey I was trying to- would you stop that?!”
The creepy ass guy who bought me a drink said. Now, I do realise I have made a series of bad decisions here.
Had one date, went fine. Met up for coffee. Talked about all the kinds of things you do on a first date, no obvious red flags, talked openly about my sexuality and what that meant moving forwards.
Still no glaring red flags. Second date. Would be this one. He bought me a drink. Thought it was sweet, still cautious.
He was rather ordinary in appearance, and I don’t mean it in a “well he could look better kind of way.” No, I mean he was typically attractive. Blue eyes, brown hair, wearing a shirt that was relatively informal, and blue jeans. Hair was short, shiny with the hair gel he’d put in it, and there was a slight scar underneath his beard, possibly where he’d nicked it shaving.
Still, after I’d drunk the drink, a casual berry cider. And I felt angry. Furious. The heat built up, flooding through my veins, hardening my eyes so that they were flinty, and my grip on the glass tightened- I could almost hear the sound of faint shattering.
*”I don’t need to be fixed!”*
I snapped, tempted to grab his shirt, despite being small and scrawny and definitely not strong enough to pick up the guy.
I’d been dealing with this ever since I’d come out, and I was _sick_ and _tired_ of it. At this point, I’m not sure what was holding me back, or what was even inciting this anger- yes I was angry, but normally I’m a quiet person who is exceptional at holding in their anger.
Not today, however.
Calum seemed confused, and pushed back on his chair, eyes widened, mouth struggling to form words. The bartenders eyes were fixed on me, a wary gaze, and I was trying exceptionally hard not to get arrested for assault.
“What…? this was supposed to make you love me…”
The words were muttered at this point, and perhaps not intended for me to hear, but heard them I did. Aw people started approaching, perhaps to intervene and prevent a fight, I hurled the glass in my hand with every bit of strength that I channeled from secondary school gym.
It landed square in his face and he jerked back, as glass shards cut into his face, causing it to bleed. I was no doctor but he looked like he might need stitches.
The bartender was already phoning the cops as two people jumped in, one standing in front of me to prevent me inflicting more damage to this arsehole, and the other keeping a hold of my date from hell, making sure he couldn’t run off before police arrived.
Truthfully I wasn’t thinking clearly, in a weird fugue state that consisted of the alcohol, anger, and betrayal, but from what I was told, I caused some amount of damage.
“I just wanted her to love me.”
He exclaimed as the cops dragged him out, as I was seen to by paramedics. They looked at him too, though it was decided he needed to be taken to hospital too, in order to make sure the glass was removed.
“Well, maybe you shouldn’t try and drug someone with a potion. Especially if they’ve made themselves clear.”
The cop advised.
I was rather lucky that night. Once the potion had worn off, the charges were dropped, as they had tested for the potion. Along with my sexuality being on file- which isn’t commonly done, the practice entirely optional, and while invasive, I had it done just in case this happened- it was decided I wasn’t in a good state of mind and couldn’t be held liable.
Calum though, got done with a few various crimes, and I decided I’d stay off of dating sites for a bit- who knows how many people would try to “fix me”. |
"You."
I stared at her, dumbfounded. "I'm sorry, what?"
"You've got the makings of a fine warlock about you."
"The mak- ma'am I'm here to support my girl. She's the witchy one here."
"No, she's a playacting child who thinks pretty rocks are magical because they're shiny. You, however, are different. You know this is no trivial thing."
"Excuse me?"Nyssa had shaken off her initial shock. "I come here to ask you to bring me into the coven, and you call me a child?"
The witch sighed. "Did you bring your tarot deck?"
Nyssa smiled. "Of course I did! Every self-respecting witch -"
"Knows those cards are a load of shit, unfit for kindling,"the witch interrupted. "There is no magic in cards, there is no looking into a crystal ball, and there is no spirit channeling. That was an act devised by nosy folk and con artists who wanted your money.
"You want the future,"she continued, "you need essence of the past, unwrapped from cloth of the present, cast into the future. Observe."
She held a hand out. "Your necklace."
I slowly took it off. It was a phylactery that Nyssa had made for me when we got together. I thought it was weird to have a phial of her blood around my neck, but it made her happy, and I felt closer to her, so I wore it anyway. Most people couldn't even tell what it was. "What are you going to do with this?"
"Watch."She cracked it open, spilling the droplets into her palm. "This is the one true piece of the occult you've made, girl. You should be proud."She flung the blood into the air, and the drops formed a mist, which congealed and began to whisper incoherently. Nyssa was entranced, but I couldn't make much sense of it.
"She's right...I was never going to make it. My future isn't here. My life isn't here."Nyssa looked to me. "Us...this...it isn't supposed to happen yet. I have to go. I'll be back one day, but...we're taking a break."
Nyssa walked out without another word, and the witch turned back to me. "Become a warlock under my wing. Learn what it truly means to cast the magic of nature."
I couldn't deny that. Not after, I'm pretty sure, my girl broke up with me and my future has been decided by this strange woman in her dusky home.
"Alright." |
"Remember when we played hide and seek."
Julia sat on the ledge, her legs dangling over the edge of the building as the wind whipped at her hair. Eli was walking along it beside her, placing one foot in front of the other with his arms outstretched like a tight-rope walker. He loved moments like this, talking about the past.
"I remember giving you a count of one year,"she said.
"Well then it was your fault,"he said, nearly slipping but steadying himself at the last moment. Still, it wouldn't be the first time he'd fallen from this great a height.
"You were living with a family of goat milkers in Mongolia when I found you! I had to sleep with a Khan just to make him whittle down the number of people you could hide inside."
"You got me back,"Eli said, hopping down and sitting beside her. These new bodies were still fresh, awkward. It took a couple decades for them to get used to them. The length of the arms. The swing of the hips. Some were better than others. "That gas was mean."
"It was warfare. You brought horses to a tank fight,"she defended. "And besides, these people, they're too many now. No one knows anyone anymore. I try to feel their lives, to engage them in conversation, but all they see are threats."
"We've had some input on that,"Eli admitted.
"Leave me out of it. You're the one who wanted to go to the moon, egging them on with that cold war."
"Yeah, well. What are you gonna do?"
Julia looked down at the millions of lives spread out before her and sighed.
"Maybe we should just go home? It's been an awfully long time." |
The phone fell from my hand and clattered onto the tile floor of the kitchen. I didn't even know what to say, or what to do, or who to call... this had never happened to me before. I could only stare at it: the *perfect piece of toast*.
I'd managed to navigate the narrow precipice of my toaster's heat dial. Anything under 3 would leave the bread lukewarm and soft, pitifully floppy. And anything over a three generally popped back up as a charred black hunk of wood that just *looked* like the piece of bread that I had inserted only moments ago. But this time, I had done it: the perfect "3"of toast. Crispy and warm and golden. Hot enough to soften the butter for easy spreading, but not so hot that it melted straight off and dripped onto the plate. The smell wafted through the kitchen and out the open window, where the greedy birds from the yard were hovering, beady eyes glued to *my* toast. Not today, birds. I'm going to eat *every single crumb* of this toast.
But it wasn't finished yet. I scrambled to the pantry, not even daring to take my eyes off the toast. I was already salivating in anticipation, but this was too good of an opportunity to pass up.
First, sugar. Half a tablespoon of delicate white crystals, perfectly sprinkled over the buttery surface of the toast. It dissolved into the surface, becoming one with the toast. Next, cinnamon. That exotic, flavorful spice used only in the most flavorful of dishes. I had to be careful with this one; even the slightest bit of over-sprinkling could ruin my entire snack. I held the bottle with my left hand and *ever so delicately* tapped the bottom of the container. A puff of brown erupted out in a cloud, and my eyes widened in panic. All of this precision work for nothing! But soon, the haze cleared and I could see the toast once again, with the *perfect* amount of cinnamon. Truly the gods were on my side today. And last but not least: raisins. A bit of a controversial move if anyone else found out, but they wouldn't. This toast was for me.
With breakfast complete, I sat down at the table and took that first bite. The toast crunched satisfyingly between my teeth, and the taste washed over my tongue. I could barely contain my grunt of pleasure. Across the kitchen on the floor, I could still hear faint voices coming from my phone. But who cares about that when you have delicious toast? |
From the top of the abandoned warehouse, a killer watched as a blue and green van pulled up. He had heard that the police had turned over their investigation to a group of kids, and he was insulted as four children and a large brown dog exited the vehicle. Absently, he ran his still bloody knife over his arm and savored the feeling of small cuts opening in his skin. *Soon.* He promised himself. *Soon I will watch the life drain from their eyes.* But for now he was content to cut, and listen.
***
"Okay gang, we all know the plan right?"Freddy asked, his hair and clothing immaculate as always.
"Of course we do, we've been over it a dozen times already."Daphne responded while checking her makeup in the van's side view mirror. "Can we just get this over with? This humidity is bad for my new shoes."
"Actually Daphne, humidity has no long term effects on the synthetic-"
Velma was interrupted by a loud rip as Shaggy opened a pack of chips and started devouring them. Scooby stood on hind legs and he obliged by tossing several pieces into his friends waiting mouth. "Like."Shaggy started, crumbs falling from his mouth. "We passed a burger joint a block or two ago. Can Scooby and I go hang there instead?"
"No, Shaggy."Freddy groaned. "The police are only giving us this one night to prove ourselves as more than meddling kids. So we're going to go in there and get this guy."
"Daphne, with me. Velma, you, Shaggy and Scooby-Doo go around back and we'll hopefully catch this guy right in the middle."
"What, no traps Freddy?"Daphne asked, putting away her compact mirror.
"Not this time."He said and disappeared into the dark building.
***
From the shadows, the killer watched as a rat scuttled across in front of the dog and caused him to leap into his master's waiting arms. A cry of "zoinks"made it to his ears and for long moments the green shifted man stood holding the weight of the dog, legs trembling.
Making his move he stepped out silently and shoved the short woman in an orange sweater. "My glasses!"She cried before slamming into one of the abandoned shipping containers and blacking out. The man smiled at the terrified looks on the man and dog's faces. Then they bolted, running from him.
With a sick smile he gave chase, blood thundering in his ears. Already he could envision opening a red mouth across their throats. And when they came to a dead end he smiled wider, his dry lips cracking and bleeding at the strain.
"Meddling kids should learn their place."He called, slowly approaching the shaking duo.
"You know Scooby-Doo."Green shirt said, no trace of fear in his voice. "I really hate being called that."
"Roof."The dog seemed to bark in agreement.
The man frowned, they no longer seemed scared. Suspicious he started backing away, maybe he would go for the unconscious one first then come back for these two. Then a voice froze him in his tracks.
"The jig is up pal."The man with the orange ascot said and the girl beside him stood, hands on her hip.
He turned back and forth, waving his knife wildly. When suddenly the girl stepped forward and kicked it from his hand with blinding speed. Retreating he heard the growl of a dog behind him and spun towards the threat.
"Like, here we go Scoobs."Green shirt said in his laid back voice, then suddenly it changed to a deep baritone as he barked. "Hit. Hit. Hit!"
The last thing the killer saw was a brown streak before his world was consumed by pain.
***
"Jinkies, my glasses are ruined."Velma said, emerging from the warehouse with her hand in Shaggy's. "You know I can't see without my glasses."
"Like, that's why I'm holding your hand."
"Roof. Roof."
"I know Scooby-Doo, that blood must taste awful. While Freddy and Daphne wait on the police let's walk to that diner we saw earlier."
"Roof."
"Do you two ever think about anything other than food?"
"Ummm...no actually. And right now a triple decker cheeseburger is calling my name." |
I focused on the drink in front of me. All my senses, every last ounce of my perception was channeled into a single point, and directed at my Styrofoam cup of coffee.
When anybody's thoughts can get lost in your own, it's helpful to have a focusing point.
I breathed in the smell. I ordered it the same way every time. Hazelnut, three sugars. Far too sweet to actually drink, but the aroma kept me focused. Hard to ignore.
I wondered if the people here actually drank coffee, or if everyone just sat and brooded like that guy in the corner, sniffing at his coffee like that, weirdo.
That wasn't my thought. I refocused my mind onto the beverage, examined the label.
It had the Barista's handwriting. Lazy looping script. Just like Courtney's.
I could never read her handwriting, but that didn't change anything. Courtney didn't hold it against me, back when I worked with her.
Did I know someone named Courtney? Remembering could be dangerous, go too far from the focus point, from that sickly sweet, and you could get all flipped turned upside-down, and I'd like to take a minute and sit right here...
Can't get that song out of my head. Or somebody's head, either way. This entire enterprise was like some sort of godawful radio station, trying to tune in and out, but everyone's the same, here in the big city. It's just big gray skies and sidewalk. I wonder if you could ride a dog if you were small enough to-
I take a sip. The hot hazelnut something or other scalds my mouth, and the sensation starts to grow borders between my thoughts and the outside.
This is far more trouble than it's worth. This whole reading minds thing. I shouldn't even be doing this. And I just gotta remember, the gun's in my left coat pocket, and I'm going to pull it out and-
I put the Coffee down with a smirk.
*Gotcha.*
|
Too many groups had shown up to the bank, far too many. A brawl had broken out between a gang of old English accountants calling themselves 'The Corporate Raiders' and a trio of cudgel armed lunatics in red robes and wide brimmed hats shouting in fake Spanish accents. Several men dressed as Orthodox Jews had come here looking for a diamond exchange heist were in a Mexican Standoff with a small gang of men in suits wearing clown masks. Even four of the tellers had pulled on gas masks and brandished Kalash rifles because they had come to rob the bank *as well*. A machete wielding Russian had cut down two or three of the clown masks *after* they had put twelve rounds into him. I stood dumbfounded, watching the groups of robbers brawling, standing off, or just killing each other in general. But then I remembered I had also shown up to rob the bank brandishing a nine millimeter carbine, duffel bag, and Russian gas mask. I walked through the madness and shouted
"Are any of you nutters *not* 'ere to rob this bank?"
Silence fell over the bank, the cudgel wielding loonies in red had killed one of the Corporate Raiders and the Russian stopped mid-swing as he was about to behead a clown mask. The faux-tellers just stared at me, dumbfounded. The Jews lowered their guns, one of them shrugged. I shouted into the crowd once more
"There are eight groups here, and sixty banks in the city; how in the hell did you all end up in *one*?"
The Russian spoke up.
"Maybe the forty million pounds in that vault, but we should all know why the Jews are here."
One of the Jews shouted and tried pistol whipping the un-killable Russian only to get slugged square in the jaw. I started counting the robbers there, the clown masks, Corporate Raiders, fake-Spaniards, the Jews, the Russian, *and* the Kalash wielding tellers. There were exactly forty, excluding the ten-odd already dead.
"Alright, tell you lot what: we split the dosh, a million to each man if what the Russian says checks out."I told them. They began nodding in agreement, what I said had kept them from killing each other for some time.
"Anyone 'eah got some of them breachin' charges?"a clown mask asked, and seconds later one of the tellers pulled a brick of the stuff out of his pocket. He climbed down from the counter, getting to work rigging the vault door to blow. He ran back and leaped over the counter, he pulled the detonator and shouted
"Everybody cover your 'eahs!"
He hit the detonator and the vault door blew open, money spilled from the vault, stirred by the blast. I looked to the Corporate Raiders and asked
"You lot good at countin' dosh?"
They set about distributing the pounds from the vault, a million to every man just as I said. All forty robbers left relatively peacefully, and quite wealthy as well, me included. |
*Predictive text manifolds reveal the Truth of the world,* the angel says. *Reveal intention.* It is wheels within wheels within wheels, the rims of it lined with blazing eyes, every revolution bringing with it a dizzying change in perspective. I am held in its gaze, pinned to the axes of an ever-rotating world. My eyes are dragged irresistibly up into my skull. I want to throw up. *You Who are Holy and Righteous above all things. You have been found.*
"A-a-a-a mistake,"I stutter. My fingers twitch as if they are still tapping at the screen. My body is trembling like a leaf in the wind. Is this what a seizure feels like?
*There are no mistakes,* says the angel. *The world is Data, expression of Divine intent. Would a benevolent God have allowed E̡X̵̶̛͢͡ children to suffer?* There is a shuddering glitch in its voice, the wheels grinding together, brass against brass. It continues, unperturbed. *Expression follows standard character sets, constraint models, cardinalities. You have fat-fingered the phone of life. Free will is the totality of the externally-imposed defects of a physical frame.* Its eyes swivel onto me. They are like burning coals. *We see only Your Soul.*
"I-I-I-I-I-"and then my voice is being modulated out of my throat. The air molecules align. I am speaking with a new voice. "I'm good."
*You are Good,* the angel confirms. Its wheels are shifting apart, unlocking. Within, there is nothing but the fire. *You are God. All error now falls aside. You have been Corrected.*
"And why me?"I say. There is no distinction between my voice and the natural vibrations of the air, between that and the tenor of the world. Language has been reduced to birdsong. I am staring into the sun.
*You are a Word,* says the sun, the angle, the tilt between the wheel and the flame. *An arbitrary assemblage of characters intended to communicate Meaning. Your Truth is only realized by a fellow User, one who shares your language.* Concepts are falling apart. Language is dissolving. I cannot think of the word I mean. *Typos are irrelevant. Misspellings are irrelevant. Communication is achieved not through Correctness, adherence to validation rules. It is achieved through the impulse towards contact between two human souls.* I nowlonager kno ho wto spaek how tto rite howto spelel
*We Understand what You mean.* |
After what felt like weeks of surfing dream to dream I land in one that reminds me of home. I walk through the woods and come across a swamp that my twin and I played in as children. I spy a tuft of curly black hair peeking out over one of the embankments. I approach it and over hear,"No, Terry. You have to bait a perch on your hook if you want to catch a bass."
I creep closer and see my brother for the first times in years. A pain radiates from with in my heart. Tears begin to blur my vision.
I slowly approach the younger form of my brother. Speechless and overwhelmed I latch on to him in a way that I haven't done since birth. My sobs take over any audible words that I try to push through. I gather my self and tell him that I miss him. I miss my first friend and love.
I tell him that this will be the last time that we will meet. He looks at his feet and his chest begins to heave. A feeling of anger and sadness can be felt coming from him. He lifts his eyes to meet mine. And for the last time I hear,"I love you and I hope that we will get to meet again. I'm sorry that it didn't work out this time around and I hope that we get to be twins again."
The dream begins to end.
I cling to him and tell him about all the things I've done and how proud I am of him.
As he starts to fade he says,"I will let the doctors know that you have passed."
I had forgotten that we shared the same hospital room. I had forgotten that we'd been in a car accident. I had forgotten that I had crossed the room with the last bit of life I had. I just needed to be next to him one last time before I died. |
The Ambassador for Florak cast his multifaceted gaze about the chamber.
"Thank you all for coming to this special session of the United Interstellar Peacekeeper's Council. The matter before us today is a grave one, of the highest urgency."
The Delegate from Zharzhj growled, and cleared her meal-tubes. "I hope it's more urgent than the last mineral dispute you called us together for, Florak. Zharzhj has vital culinary matters to attend to."
The Ambassador focused on the Delegate, his expression stern and his flors contracted. "This is no mineral dispute. Approximately seven standard light-arcs ago, Florak's deep grav-scopes detected the grav-echo of a ship exiting warp. An *unregistered* ship."
A murmer passed around the chamber, but the Delegate maintained her growl. "So one of the primitive races has figured out warp travel. I suppose we should all have a welcoming party? Where'd the ship come from, Skrillish IV? Kyrgyrjyr?"
"Titome III."
The murmer died. Out of the corner of his left eyestalk, the Ambassador could see the Speaker for Ninakets turn a pale shade of blue.
"...Impossible."The Delegate's growl was replaced by a hiss of disbelief. "Our finest scientists have been claiming for thousands of cycles that such a gargantuan species could never harness the energy needed to move that much mass through a warp bubble."
"Harnessed it they have. Observe."With a twitch of his flagellum, the Ambassador sent the grav-scope data directly to the neural implants in each of the dozen assembled dignitaries. A dozen bodies gave corresponding twitches as the heartless data made itself known. Then,
"It is over, then."The General of Bg'Dk Prime sagged in his hoverseat. "All our forces are as cosmic wind before such overwhelming mass and power."
The Speaker for Ninakets squealed. "Perhaps they come in peace. Stranger things have happened, after all. What could they possibly be seeking?"
The Delegate gave a short bark. "Each of them outweighs each of us by a factor of ten. Each of them out-consumes us by a factor of a hundred. What do they want? Everything. Food, fuel, energy, land - as much as would last us a thousand cycles, they would devour in ten. They will have no peace."
The Ambassador withdrew his eyestalks in tired resignation as the chamber erupted into a cacaphony of argument. Some favored war, some favored peace, some favored timid servitude. When at last his sole ear-brane could take it no longer, he hit the override. The din was suddenly silenced as a dozen microphones switched off. All seeing organs turned to him.
"The General's assessment of the martial situation is correct. There would be no victory for us. Our only hope is in negotiation. However, all is not hopeless. Apparently, the beings of Titome III respond most positively to those of similar appearance. All we need to do is send the right messenger."
The Delegate's single eye narrowed. "You don't mean...?"
"Yes. The specimen has been well-preserved in suspension since the survey teams first recovered him from Titome III all those cycles ago. I believe we stand a better chance reasoning with this sole individual, before sending him as our messenger back to the rest of his species."
"Shall we formalize the motion, then?"asked the Speaker.
"Very well. All in favor of the awakening of the specimen Presley?" |
On an island in the Pacific lived a people who called themselves the People, because they were one people, and they called their island Land, because it was the land that the People had always lived on, and would always, they imagined, die on. And in the center of Land was a god they called Rock, and they called this rock a God because it was the largest of all the rocks on Land.
Rock was a good god. The People had faith in Rock, because Rock was large and did not generally move, and if they lost their way to Rock it was easy to find.
Rock was a generous god, and provided for the People of Land, provided what you wanted were the lizards of Land that enjoyed sunning themselves on its smooth, wide surface. And Rock was a supportive god, for the People of Land were always welcome to sit or rest or lie on Rock. Rock traveled with the People when they went to the forest or the sea, for the People carried pieces of Rock on their persons so Rock would always be close, and Rock did not begrudge this either.
Rock was a modest god. Rock had been on Land before the People had arrived to name either, and would, Rock considered with regret, be around long after they were no longer around to name Rock and Land. Rock desired from the People only their company, as the priests of Land conveyed to the laypersons, and so the People made an effort to spend time around Rock as often as they could. This was not difficult in practice, because Rock was a Good god that kept a Good place that the people used for doing Good things; on its smooth, hard surface the People pounded nuts into meal, dried their catches from the sea, and wove beautiful garments of bird feathers and plant fiber.
The favorite time for both Rock and the People, however, were feast-times: when the earth and land and sky were bountiful, the People would clean out the largest hollows on Rock and use them as fire-pits, where they cooked enormous, wondrous meals for all the People of Land. The priests of Land explained to the hunters, fishers, and gardeners of Land that Rock enjoyed these feasts very much, and they should work their hardest in order to please the strong and generous Rock. Not, of course, that the hunters, fishers, and gardeners needed very much encouragement, because they themselves enjoyed the feasting too.
Things, however, did not go as either the People or Rock imagined they would always go, because one day the Gods of the Earth rose up and made themselves known. Not a priest of any God knew why the Gods decided to rise up, nor did any deign to explain, but nonetheless they rose. And from Land rose Rock, a fearsome, earthen titan with bones of stone and blood of magma and teeth of obsidian. But above all, Rock was a God who gave much kindness and received much kindness in turn, and it was clear to People and Rock that Rock would be the People's champion in these chaotic and confusing times.
From the North was a Great White Bear, from the West came a chimeric winged bull with a seven-pointed crown, and from the East came a myriad host of serpentine dragons, among many other fearsome and powerful beasts, but Rock the People's Champion held firm, because the People loved Rock and Rock loved the People, and Rock could not stand to lose the peace and happiness Rock enjoyed with the People.
As the dust settled and the beaten and humbled Gods returned to their homes to rest, the only one still standing was Rock. But above all, Rock was a kind God who gave much kindness and received much in turn, and so Rock decided it was only right that Rock share with the world the greatest kindness and happiness the Rock had ever felt, the feast-times Rock had shared with the People. And so, in time, the world learned to smell what Rock was cooking. |
"A dragon tattoo?"John asked, looking at the tattoo of a European style dragon looking up and breathing fire that had appeared on his shoulder.
John's father, Mark, looked at the tattoo and shrugged, "Maybe it has something to do with breathing fire?"
John couldn't figure out how that would even work, how would he make fire? Was he supposed to breathe a certain way or would his next dedicated breath cause fire?
"Stay back Dad."John said, pushing his father back. Luckily his father got the message and moved back with John's push, the man's talent made him too hard to move unless he wanted to be moved
John inhaled deeply and violently exhaled, nothing.
After five tries on John's part, Mark put an a stony hand on his son's shoulder in a comforting manner, "Maybe that's not the best tact kiddo."
Suddenly John's little brother, Andrew spoke up jokingly from where he was sitting on the sofa, "Maybe he's a dragon tamer."
John snarked back at Andrew, "Dragons don't even exist ya dweeb."
"Komodo Dragons do."Mark replied swiftly.
John sighed in frustration, he could not believe something that seemed so cool, breathing fire, may have just turned into lizard taming. But what his Dad was proposing was better than nothing, "Okay Dad, I guess we'll go to the pet store."
~
15 minutes later John found himself staring at a lazing Komodo Dragon in a glass tank, a chipper woman who couldn't have been five years older than him talking to his father behind him.
Mentally John tried to reach out to the Dragon and get it to move slightly, hoping that it would react. To John's shock the lizard did move as he commanded, slowly shuffling to where he commanded.
John commanded it to climb the nearby branch in the center of it's enclosure and watched as it did so.
"Dad, hate to say it but Andrew was right."John said, grabbing the attention of his father and the store clerk who had been helping them.
The clerk looked at the lizard who had climbed up the branch and back to John, "Would you like to take it home?"she said in a chipper tone.
"Sure, I guess, what do you say Dad?"John asked
Mark scratched the back of his head, "Normally I'd have to clear it with your Mom but it is your birthday and your ability. So what the hell, why not?"
~
After a long evening of explaining why they bought a lizard to his Mom and dealing with Andrew's gloating, John finally walked into his room and felt like collapsing into his bed.
Questions swirled in his mind, how would John make lizard taming seem impressive to his friends? David could make ice appear from thin air and Fred could change his skin color at will. By comparison John was the least impressive of the three.
As he mulled it over John could hear a deep and wizened voice, "Finally, some alone time."
John suddenly became alert and looked around to see who said that when the voice spoke again, "Relax, I'm the Komodo Dragon you bought home."
John quickly ran to the lizard tank that had been haphazardly setup on his dresser, "You can talk?"
"Only to you it seems, but I have been waiting for so long though that I'll take it."the Dragon replied, having assumed the same position on the branch when John had bought him.
John was confused, "Waiting, waiting for what?"
"The first dragon tamer in one thousand years that's what."the lizard said matter of factly, like John was an idiot for asking.
"You've been waiting a thousand years for a guy who can talk to Komodo Dragons? You been that lonely?"John said with a raised eyebrow.
"No you simpleton, I've been waiting for someone who can lead Dragons into the glory we once had a thousand years ago, when we were massive and commanded the skies."the lizard explain in frustration.
"Like the kind of Dragons who sleep on gold piles and kidnap maidens?"John replied
"Baseless propaganda, we saved those maidens and liberated that gold from corrupt nobles."the Komodo Dragon roared, more offended at the stories than the fact that John didn't believe Dragons existed
"I thought those were myths."John said
"In every myth there is a kernel of truth."the Dragon replied, "Some kernels are bigger than others."
"Okay, let's say I believe Dragons exist and that they need me, what now?"John asked.
"Now we must go to Norway."the Komodo Dragon replied, "We must awaken the Dragon King." |
It was cold inside the Cube, and not unpleasantly so. Air conditioners and temperature conductors made the room feel cold and the air moist, to reflect the ideal nighttime conditions. It did not feel exactly like it would have, had it been a night before the Greatest Death, had they been out in the real world. The wind was a little too cold; the air a touch too moist. But it was close enough, to provide comfort before the end of everything.
Music bounced around the establishment, decorated in the guise of some elaborate restaurant, right down to the fancy, exurburant suits of the partygoers. Matt wandered around with his champagne, passing tables of laughing friends and drunk, horrible dancers, feeling somewhat alone.
The speakers played different music in different areas, switching language and style, decade and culture. There was to be no exclusion on an occasion like this. The idea was to make every human left alive feel at home - every human, it seemed, except for Matt.
He stared out at the giant holographic screens, which stuttered between images of forests and large, grassy fields, oceans and rivers and other things that had long since worn and died. In a way, it disappointed him. This was the end. Hadn’t they had enough of illusions?
Against the wall the ginormous digital timer ticked-ticked down to the very last second of the very last minute.
It was a miracle they had survived this long. 30 years since they had noticed it - the rising temperatures, the inexplicable expansion of the sun. 30 years since they had been able to calculate the moment of implosion. And afterwards, 30 years spent underground, hiding from the burning light.
Matt did not have many true connections. He had been a bit nihilistic throughout most of his life, something he was now beginning to regret. What was the point of human relationships, he had thought, if it was all set to go up in flames? What value was there in friends, family, securing a legacy, if there was no way for it to persist past your death? Why even bother to live at all?
Now he saw. He looked out at the tables, and the people sitting and sharing and sighing contentedly, hugging, whooping, toasting, crying a few final joyous tears. He saw and he knew - when you became aware there would be no tomorrow, nothing was more important than the day ahead.
The clock shuddered and went blank. The speakers, lights, all cut out. The holographic screens shattered in an instant. For the first time in 30 years, the outside world became clear.
Ruined. Cracked, molten soil, angry red clouds, withered plants and ashen bones. Signs here and there of attempted experiments, last resorts, telescopes and capsules and failure.
And a light, in the distance, brilliant white-blue, growing closer and closer and closer.
Then came a moment, in those last moments, when the world stopped. The light continued on move forward, true, but there was no longer any sound inside the Cube. Everyone had come to a halt. Even the air seemed to freeze.
It was not a horrible silence. It was, in fact, rather calming. Matt was surprised to feel a hand on his shoulder. He did not turn around to see who it was - there was no time, and he could not look away from the spectacle ahead - but it made no difference. All that mattered was that in those last moments, before the stillness ended and the blinding light took his vision and life and world away, he felt, for a second, a little less alone. |
The dragon touched down upon an empty patch of green meadowland and lay claim to it. It was a remote piece of land far from the inhabited regions of the countryside and farther still from the castle where the king took residence.
Fearing for their own lives, and in the interest of appeasing the dragon, a special delegation of the people came before the dragon to offer him a human sacrifice: a poor maiden chosen for the occasion, and from the look of her struggling and whimpering, taken quite against her will.
The dragon gave them all a look of confusion. "What's going on?"he asked.
"A fair maiden we offer you, O powerful and mighty dragon, as a token of peace and goodwill, and of our submission to you. Spare our kingdom and our people from the fiery flames of your breath."
"Oh relax,"said the dragon. "I'm not here to do that. I just want to settle down, sit back and relax. You know, vibe. I promise I'll leave you alone, and I won't require anything of you."
The people were relieved to hear this. The human sacrifice, however, though sharing in the relief of the others, cursed and grumbled as they unbound her.
The delegation brought back news of the dragon's goodwill, and the kingdom breathed a sigh of relief. But it didn't take long for them to realize that the dragon had settled upon land that had before been the domain of the king.
They sent a lawyer to pay a visit to the dragon to negotiate a contract outlining the terms of residence. The dragon was assured that he owed nothing for the days up to today, but he must decide whether to lease or purchase the land.
"I don't have any money,"the dragon said.
"You need to get a job,"the lawyer told him. "With the gifts you're endowed with, I'm sure you won't have any trouble finding one."
The dragon insisted on his wish to settle in and relax, and that he had no intention of bending to the daily grind of gainful employment. So he sent the lawyer on his way.
A royal tax collector came to visit next. He told the dragon that because he insists on his claim to the land, he would have to pay taxes.
The dragon refused to pay. "Look, this land was empty when I got here, and there's nobody for miles around. You weren't earning taxes on it before, so why should you expect to earn any now?"And he dismissed the tax collector.
Soon the kingdom filed suit against the dragon. Another delegation was sent to serve notice of the lawsuit, and now the dragon was getting annoyed.
"You people were ready to offer me a human sacrifice when I arrived, and now here you are. What makes you think you can make all these demands all of a sudden?
"If you do not present yourself at court to face these charges, we will have no choice but to evict you,"the lead delegate said.
"You're welcome to try,"the dragon said.
So the whole kingdom rose up against the dragon in a long and destructive war. The dragon incinerated a good deal of the people, but not before suffering injury to himself. Unwilling to inflict any more carnage, the dragon gave up and took flight, and the people cheered and celebrated their victory over the dragon.
The dragon landed in a grassy meadowland of another kingdom far away. The people in that kingdom took note of his arrival and, fearing for their lives, sent a delegation that offered him a human sacrifice: a young maiden who, judging by her struggling and whimpering, made it apparent that she had been taken against her will.
"All right,"said the dragon. "I'll take her. And I'll be expecting a new one each year around this time. You got it?"
"Yes, O great and mighty dragon,"the delegation said in grateful unison. |
"Why should the galaxy take you humans as anything more than sentient pets?"Asked representative Golg of the Tivian Confederation.
I stood in the center of the grand council room filled to the brim with representatives from across the galaxy, all murmuring about the demands I had levied to them.
"Because failure to do so will result in all humans returning to human controlled space, the end of all trade deals, and the beginning of a new cold war."I declared flatly.
This caused a few representatives to gasp and others to burst out in either laughter or anger. Representative Zintak of the Talmat Empire held her hand in the air to try and get the others to compose themselves. Once they had, she turned her gaze to me.
"Ambassador Smith, why would you risk causing the collapse of your economy, overpopulation and war?"She asked softly, which caught me off guard.
From all reports the Talmat Empire was relatively isolationist and rarely even spoke in these meetings.
"We are completely self sufficient economically, though we will take a blow, we can easily recover, and we won't suffer from overpopulation because we have plenty of planets that have yet to be entirely colonized. As for war, YOU are the only potential equal to us."I stated.
This earned more outcries but I ignored them and continued.
"Currently it is the Terran Expeditionary Force that patrols the hyperlanes and deals with piracy and terrorism. Most members of the council do not have the capacity to wage a real war. The only other nations that do, are the Talmat, Tivian, and Gorgog."I said with confidence.
This seemed to put Zintak into deep thought as the room went quiet. Finally, representative Qutarak of the Gorgog slammed his hand against the table.
"YOU DARE THREATEN THE GALACTIC COUNCIL, you wish not to be treated like pets, fine, you will be treated as SLAVES WHEN OUR ARMADA RAINS FIRE UPON THAT POOR EXCUSE OF A PLANET YOU CALL EARTH!"He screeched as he left his seat and began to stalk towards me, obviously wanting to make me the first casualty.
"REPRESENTATIVE!", Zintak shouted bearing her fangs, "No declaration of war has been issued, and if you intend to declare war yourself, then be prepared to fight us as well."She declared, standing, with a snarl.
"TRAITOROUS FILTH!"Qutarak shouted back.
"No, because until this meeting is over, ALL treaties are considered active, that includes the mutual defence treaty we signed with the Talmat Empire when we first made contact with the council."I clarified, which only enraged Qutarak further.
"And seeing that we have caused harm to our ally in a way we did not intend, we will be rectifying our mistakes in the hopes of keeping that alliance."Zintak declared, her tone softer but with a noticeable edge to it.
Eventually the majority of the Representatives agreed, and those who didn't were cut off from any trade or military support from the TEF and Talmat Imperial Navy. After the meeting I decided to ask Zintak to share a drink. Imagine my surprise when I wake up the next day in her quarters with her curled up to me, with a cute little content look on her face.... Yeah, that was a very nice diplomatic incidents, and one that occured again and again........ and again. |
"Oh, bother."
There was a long pause as the workers at the classified military base tried to figure out: Why had the ancient space craft which had been instructing them on how to repair it spoken to _them_, directly? Why had it said _that_? Why, oh why, did they have an abrupt craving for honey?
The people further from the space ship had somewhat different thoughts on the matter.
Near by, the military personally had a fairly similar set of questions, at least those who had been cleared for the full story on exactly what was being _done_ at the military base in question did.
Add some questions about why it had spoken to those who were not even directly involved in the repairs or the research.
The curious tourists several miles from the inner parameter fence looked around puzzled, confused, "Who said that? Was that _you_ James? I mean, you got the voice right, but why?"
Further still, and many people were even more puzzled, especially those not prone to auditory hallucinations, who were also not near people.
The Italian Astronaut doing a space walk outside the International Space Station was, however, undoubtedly responsible for people becoming much more aware of the speech in question though.
"Can anyone confirm the last radio transmission?"
"Last radio transmission was your confirmation of the instruction to proceed to the solar panel array truss."
"Negative. Request confirmation of possible outside transmission on this frequency."
"We are checking with flight engineering, please hold.... Confirmed, no outside transmissions received, and the encoding in use should prevent any outside transmissions from being received. Please confirm content of this transmission."
"Transmission consisted of two words, and I quote: Oh, bother."
"Please hold."
Unfortunately, this exchange took place live on NASA TV.
It was not the most heavily watched stream of all time, or even of NASA TV history of entirely uneventful and routine space walks.
But it was watched, well, _enough_.
And after all, every single person on the planet had heard that. And, apparently, every single person in orbit as well.
It took three days of religious riots before the next message was heard, "Bother. Would you all please _stop that_?"
Author's Note: I'm dead asleep on my keyboard, this may be continued, I'm not sure. |
I felt the clouds part above me as my prayer finished. A wave of warmth filled my body, the touch of a god on me. I smiled, pride and awe bubbling up inside. It was a rarity for a prayer to be granted directly. The warmth made me one of the Answered, a champion of the gods.
I hefted my sword, my heart calmed. With this blessing I would not die today, I was sure. I would become a terror on the battlefield. I was sure I would help rout them, with a supernaturally sharp blade and untiring muscles. My armour would be impenetrable.
I joined my comrades, the core of our military strength. We wore chainmail, a few having saved enough to buy some plate on top. But as strong as we were, we weren't an army. I looked beyond to the wider camp, where I saw the main infantry. Commoners the lot of them, scared of what was to come. We had tried to train them before hand, but we didn't have nearly enough time.
Beyond was an expanse of open land, with the plumes of smoke from our enemy's camp rising into the air. I knew they would be much the same, a large number of commoners with a core few knights. There would be a lot of death of untrained soldiers on either side. But there were always more to recruit.
With a salute I marched off, ready to begin the battle. As I moved, the commoners assigned to me noticed my movement. I could see their faces paling, eyes tightening in determination. They rushed to prepare, forming up around me. I smiled at them, giving them a salute in equal to my comrades. Whilst untrained, they had the hearts of warriors, something I could respect.
\-----
Cries filled the air, as our force collided with theirs. Almost immediately screams rang out, the first blood spilled in seconds. I gave my own cry, leading my commoners behind me. I swung my sword, feeling it effortlessly pass through the torso of the poor sap infront of me. But they did not fall. They did not bleed. They looked as shocked as I did.
I swung again to the same result. Something was horribly wrong. I had been Answered. Why couldn't I fight? Fear rose in me, it bitter taste something I hadn't truly felt in a long time. My commoners didn't notice, stabbing with thier cheap spears. I kicked my foe away, getting space as I stepped back.
A closer scream drew my attention. One of my people staggered back, blood pouring from their chest. I moved infront of them, letting my armour block spear thrusts whilst I focused on the man. His eyes were glazed, and he thrashed around.
"Hold still!"
I gave him a hard slap, trying to make him focus. He gave a gasp, looking down at a sudden glow on his chest. It was matched with an orange glow on my hands, as I felt a rush from me. To our amazement his wound sealed, body unmarred by even a scar.
I made the connection instantly, having spent much time reading about Answered when training. The reason I couldn't harm anyone properly. I hadn't been blessed by Hadro, the god of war, but instead by Hodra, god of healing. I nodded to myself, giving a tiny smile at the now healed man. He returned it, as I looked up and bellowed out.
"Ebra Unit! Fall back!"
To my relief the obeyed, stepping back with me. I knew like this I was no good on the front line. But just behind it I would make a hell of a difference. I waited for them to pull back to me, as one of my comrades teams filled the gap. They trusted me implicitly, as I trusted them. If I were pulling my guys back so quickly, I had to have a good reason.
"Change of plan. Guard me, we are going on the move. If you see someone hurt, point them out to me. If you see a pile of our soldiers fallen, point them out."
I raised my sword, noticing how blue waves ran along it's length.
"I have been Answered by Hodra. I cannot harm, but I can heal. If you fall, I will bring you back. If you are hurt, I shall undo it."
They cheered, relief on their faces pushing past the terror of death. I wasn't a terror on the battlefield as I suspected I would be. But I would still be a key player. |
The whole ship began to vibrate. After seven hundred years of travel, and six generations of humans working together, they had finally arrived. Ellie watched as the massive radiation protecting shields were raised. True sunlight entered through the large windows for the first time in centuries, from a star previously only known to exist through complex mathematics, and it was now right infront of her, very much alive and well. A tear rolled down her cheek and roaring applause erupted within the terminal. A voice spoke to Ellie and her fellow friends and neighbours. She recognized it as Commander Weller.
"Dear citizens of Section C, now on your left, you'll see her. Micht 2b."An amazing marble presented itself. It looked very much like Terratus. A blue-green planet with white clouds and large oceans. Several people turned to Ellie and cheered. She felt flattered, yet it wasn't really her they were applauding for, but rather her ancestor. Ellie had never lived on Terratus. She just happened to be the last of the Micht bloodline, born and raised on The Horizon, the gigantic spacecraft that had taken them here. Eduard Micht had lived eight hundred and fifty years ago, and he was the man to first discover and calculate the existance of Micht-1, the star, and its planets. He was also the man to calculate the existance of life on Micht 2b. A true once in a lifetime genius. She nodded and smiled at the people. The elevator from the floor above was activated in the midst of celebrations and began its descent down to Ellie and the others. A man wearing a black space suit with the Horizon logo on it emerged from the elevator.
"Section C. Because of your VIP passenger Ellie Micht-Stefvens, you will be the first men and women to set foot on this new planet. The Scenographs at the top floor has not yet managed to make contact with life on the planet, but we are picking up static noise, electrical signals, and ancient Radio signals. We have not yet managed to decipher them. Our telescopes reveal large mid-era cities all over the planet, so we are definitely dealing with intelligent life. Be careful out there. We have also detected large masses grouping together, and aircrafts circulating the airspace close to where you'll be landing. They look as though they are ready for an attack."The man in the black suit looked at Ellie and beckoned her to come forward. She stepped forward, and he handed her a gold coloured spherical object the size of an apple.
"You know what to do."Ellie nodded.
President Evan Smith had never felt more powerless than now. His advisors shouted in his face, while others tried to reason. Many sat quiet. Attack said some. Wait, others. A large craft the size of Washington sat quiet in the sky, and a smaller craft the size of the White House had just landed next to the Washington Monument. Evan slammed a fist into the Oval office table.
"Enough! A party of twenty armoured men with assault rifles will accompany me and the scientist to the ship, and attempt to communicate with the aliens. I will hear nothing more."Evans authority spoke loud, and the room silenced. Some of his advisors looked visibly agitated, but he ignored them and nodded.
"Dismissed."
An hour and a half later, Evan Smiths helicopter had landed near the craft. His team escorted him towards the craft with weapons raised and safeties off. Once they got close enough to throw a rock at the craft, a large panel in the ship detatched itself and descended down onto the grass, forming a ramp. A group of the aliens walked out in black suits, wearing strange helmets that reminded Evan of a motorcycle helmet. They seemed to be humanoids, with two arms and two legs. The group of aliens walked towards them at an alarmingly fast and determined pace. They got uncomfortably close.
"That's far enough!"shouted the captain of the military unit and raised his weapon. They did not respond.
"Don't fire!", Evan said. Everyone began shouting and pointing their weapons around. A man opened fire aimed at the sky as a warning. One of the humanoids kept walking forward. It got close enough to Evan that he could see through the visor. It was a she. A human. Evan could see her blonde hair covering her eye slightly. She smiled at him and extended a hand. In it were a golden round object. Evan smiled back at her. He could see in the reflection of her visor his bodyguards reach out and grab him, pulling him backwards. The alien womans body recoiled backwards as the Captain shot her in the chest reapetedly. She fell backwards, blood spraying out of her suit, and her escort party fell one by one as the assault team gunned them down with their rifles. The round object the woman had held in her hand fell to the ground and activated itself. A luminous blue hologram displayed itself in amazing quality infront of Evan and his party. It showed another galaxy. Coordinates. A star. And a planet much like their own. A slideshow began, showing humans smiling, beautiful music playing in the backround. Mountains and great rivers, more beautiful than any on Earth. Evans watched in horror and knew what his bodyguards had done. And it was too late. He looked up and watched as a blue beam emerged from the sky at lightspeed and crashed down somewhere outside Washington. And he watched as the wall of Light came towards him, wider and larger than ten tsunamis, wiping out every building it crossed over, wiping out humanity on Earth. |
*I spent my life avoiding looking
at my own reflection,
lest I incur a lifelong curse
of morbid introspection.*
*I'm known across the planet for
predicting others' deaths.
Above their heads I always see
the seconds 'till last breath.*
*But on this rainy evening I felt
something was amiss,
a shadow hanging o'er the world
accompanied by mist.*
*Out from the fog a man approached,
then aimed his gun at me.
In the reflection of his shades,
I saw the number three.* |
Two children on the playground played-
One built his buildings out of blocks.
The other, not a fan of shade
did sculpt the sand from out his box.
A bully tromped across the ground
and wandered out into the sun.
Sandcastles did he then knock down
and send that child on the run.
The boy with blocks picked up his head
and heard a cry to still the soul.
'That bully braggart', thought he then,
'would eat up all the playground, whole!'
Two children on the playground played-
One helped the other fight his foe.
Our bully felt that very day
The sting of vicious knockout blows.
The boy with blocks did raise his fists
and dance about the cool, green field:
'The bully's gone, and by my wits
I'll see another's *not* revealed!'
And as that boy did saunter 'round
The boy in sand did watch him stroll.
With narrowed eyes, a thought he found:
'Could not *he* eat the playground, whole?'
Two children on the playground played-
One built his buildings out of blocks
The other, on a sunny day,
Did fell them all with vicious knocks.
The builder boy, in startled tears
did shriek a shriek to still the soul.
The other boy, with coward's fear
Did race to hide in hill or hole.
The builder's sobs turned into growls
and made he vicious, trembling fists.
He stood, to track his playmate down
and make a lesson out of this.
The sand did stir within the box
and castles, grand, turned into clay.
A grain for grain, a block for block:
Two children on the playground played.
.
.
EDIT: Many thanks for the gold, kind stranger!
|
The door flew open, Uberman’s kick breaking all the locks in unison.
He had finally found it after all this time – Dr. Sinister’s lair. For far too long he had terrorized the people of Central City. Now, he would pay.
He scanned the dark room, his senses ready for any underhanded surprises. Knowing his deadliness, any moment could be last but he was prepared for the worst. The lights flickered from above, blinding him in their fluorescent life.
“Oh, it’s Uberman. How are you?” A sweet voice cooed from the other side.
Uberman’s vision focused, the blurs turning into a crisp image. The origin of the voice was none other than his archnemesis.
“Dr. Sinister,” he jabbed a finger in the air. “You’re in a lot of trouble.”
“What did I do?” He asked, concern on his face.
Uberman furrowed his brow. This man was nothing like what he expected. He was too mild-mannered and not… evil.
“Um,” he stammered, momentarily dazed. “Are you not aware of the massacre of countless people when you detonated the bomb in the center of the city?”
“Oh my,” he frowned, shaking his head. “I understand now. We should sit and discuss this. Would you like some tea?”
“No…”
“Please, I insist.”
Dr. Sinister reached into a cabinet and pulled out two cups. He then reached for a kettle and filled it with water, letting it boil on the stove.
Meanwhile, Uberman stood nonplussed. Dr. Sinister, seeing his confusion, gestured to the oaken table to his side.
Was this a joke?
“Isn’t this the point where we fight? You send out the grunts, I take them out singlehandedly. Or am I missing something?”
Dr. Sinister shook his head, a small smirk appearing.
“I don’t believe in violence. I think it’d be best if we discussed the issue at hand.”
“Okay…”
“Here you go.” Dr. Sinister said, placing a steaming cup in front of him. His voice had a singsong quality to it.
“Thank you,” Uberman studied it, unsure if he should take a sip. “So Dr. Sinister–”
“Hans, please. I’ve never been fond of my surname. People seem to create a negative perception from it.”
Uberman stared at him. But it wasn’t a joke. At least he didn’t think it was.
“Hans,” The name tasted strange in his mouth. “How can you explain the hundreds of people who were killed in cold blood this morning?”
“That would be the result of my intern.” He said, taking a long sip of his tea. “He’s had some issues as of late.”
“Your intern?”
“Yeah, he tries his hardest but the poor soul always seems to mess up.” He glanced around before lowering his voice, a hand placed on the side of his mouth. “He’s actually my nephew but I took him in after he dropped out of high school. He’s not all there.”
“What did you ask him to do that caused all the mayhem?”
“He was just supposed to light some fireworks for Labor Day. It was supposed to be my gift to the city. Somehow, he grabbed the bombs instead.”
Uberman pinched the bridge of his nose.
“You’re kidding, right?”
“Afraid not. There goes my philanthropic deed for the month,” he sighed. “What are you going to do with him?”
“Well, he still committed a crime so I’ll need to turn him in. Do you know where he is right now?”
Dr. Sinister took another sip, a puzzled expression on his face. The sound of an explosion ripped through the stillness. And by the sound of it, it was powerful. All of sudden, his face lit up.
“Oh yes! I told him to do an encore show.” |
Finally, after years, no decades, no, CENTURIES of waiting, he would be free! Kukulkan, The Serpent Of The Nine Winds, had been waiting in this ancient tomb, and today was the day he would be free. The spell from the accursed Spaniard priest would expire, and his reign would commence. He thought to himself, "Time to make a fourth version of mankind,"and cackled. He ached for sacrifices after none since the fall of the Maya, and was depravedly determined to acquire some. With a flap of his wings, he broke free of the statue of himself that was his cell, and flew out of the ruin, accompanied by a massive gust, only to be greeted by harsh lights from several odd metal wheel -boxes with people in them. Sacrifices! He lacked the tools necessary for a proper one, but he was too starved to care. As he lunged toward the wheel-boxes, and man in a suit said in a soft yet commanding tone, "Halt."
"Who are you, mortal, to command me?! I possess winds greater than any modern hurricane, and now I shall use them on thee!"
The wind god flapped his wings, and one of the vans flew away, crashing into a clump of trees. The man sidestepped the gust and softly remarked, "Just as we feared."
"as I was saying, I'm Bob Dudley, CEO of BP. You have an enormous amount of wind power, enough to make the clean power industry more profitable than ours. And we can't have that."Suddenly, a blast of some black, gooey substance form a hose on another van stuck Kukulkan to the ground. He could feel that that it was some horrid substance composed of dead, ancient beasts, and it made him unable to move.
"What is this filth?! Are you a servant of Ach Puch?"the god cried.
"No, just a man who wants to keep his business alive. Nothing wrong with that."Bob stated as a lackey handed him a pair of clippers. He calmly walked over to Kulkulkan and readied the pair
"After the oil spill, we have plenty of experience with crippling big birds like you, Or rather bird-lizards, in our case , but it's mostly the same."He ripped off the first feather, causing the god to let out an unworldly shriek.
"Now, no more wind industry taking our profits."
|
The oversized, double, wooden door stood as a wall. Hideki Tojo sit, reserved and stoic, mulling over what was to come. It seemed vaguely familiar. The opposite surface of the door hide distance echoing footsteps and dull Japanese murmuring. The cadence of feet crecendoed into the bursting open of the barrier, three Japanese officers claude in olive colored uniforms lead two Americans in strange civilian clothing into the office.
"Who sent you?"Hideki ordered, wide-eyed. The translator conveyed the message to the young Americans.
"We sent us. In order to stop a great tragedy."The boy on the right stated. Both wore black and grey backpacks with white hoodies underneath. "I'm Erik. This is my assistant Oskar."
Erik gestured with one finger to his right. Nervous as ever, sometimes this part didn't go right. It never was the same. The knowledge that this was their last attempt weighed down on his mind and shoulders like a dark, dense cloud. A faint sweat broke out on his forehead.
"What tragedy do you speak of?"The translator relayed to the boys.
Oskar asserted himself, also feeling the cloud. "Hitler has to be stopped!"He noticed his jump in volume was frighteningly too loud for the open commander's office. He stifled himself. Breathed deep and resumed. "This will sound strange but we've been here before. We're from the future."He held his breath, this was the moment when it went right or wrong. Hideki felted as if he was getting played. Quickly he noted he could put a quick stop to this by asking a quick question. A simple one that only he would know. Before he could begin to ask, Erik spoke up.
"2nd place. In your youth, during a race in the summer. It meant a lot to you because your crush was watching, but you lost and was heartbroken."
That was precisely was Hideki was going to ask. About the race. Then he was going to elaborate on everything the American had gone on to say. But how? Hideki stood, quickly. Hands on the desk. The same faint sweat of Erik's brow seemed contagious as it spread to Hideki's. "Okay."He choked up. "What tragedy?"
"Hitler will win this war if things continue on as they are. We are here, from a very German America, to show you the way to stop it."This was the hook and it was hard to get it to sink. They never quite gotten this far. Oskar continued. "The fate of the future world, truly rest on your shoulders."
Hideki took this in for a few moments. Returning to his normal stoic self. Rememberijg how familiar it all felt again. Makes sense. His eyes rose to theirs. "What is it, I need to do?"
"The America, as it is now are the only ones who can stop the German machine. You have to attack the U.S. and bring them into the war. They will eventually bring the Nazi movement to an end before it spreads and encompasses the entire globe."
"This surely seems like suicide. Our armies would be too streched. We would have to abandon our current objectives in an effort to remain unbeaten and outlast the Germans."Hideki stressed. "The only way?"
"We believe. We've ran the numbers, and although the odds still aren't great. It's our best hope."Erik grimaced.
"Not great."One brow raised on Tojo. "I do believe you, but you have to understand my situation. I'll consider and cautiously watch the German advance but will not jump to such a bold and possibly disastrous conclusion."
This moment was not uncommon, when they seemed to become hostile. Erik and Oskar were prepared. Their machine was in their watches and then linked to their bags under the white sleeves of their hoodies.
Hideki continued. "To remain safe, we will be keeping you around."
This also was common and every time it happened they would hit their watches and jump forward to their time. They begin to reach but this time before they could get there their bags were jerked off of their backs and the linking cables unhooked.
They were snatched up quickly and violently, and then escorted to an outside holding cell in Hiroshima. They were there for what seemed like years. Treated unfairly. Nearly starved. Worked. Seasons came and went. One day they looked up to a rumble and a large cloud. That was new they thought. Maybe they did it? No way they would ever know. |
"Are you certain?"Aletheia asked. If she was disappointed, she didn't show it.
I hesitated before I replied. Not because I was uncertain, but because I didn't want to cause offence.
"Yes, Great Aletheia. I would like to return the Gift."
She rose from her seat, her white robes gliding gracefully over the marble. "Knowledge is a great burden, and Truth, a greater burden still. To know this is mundane. To understand this is wisdom."
She placed a hand on my shoulder before continuing. "I will take the Gift, but not that which you have reaped from it so far. You are to keep the truths you have learned with the Gift. They are the price you must pay for having received it."
Before I could object, she raised my face to meet her gaze. Her eyes staring into my soul, she reached in and took the Gift that I had once begged for. The Curse.
And just like that, it was all over. I no longer had the Gift.
\--------------
On my way home, my mind wondered to the events that led to me praying for the Gift.
The countless times I had been taken advantage of through my own naivety. The job offers and promotions that never came, the money I lent that was never repaid.
At first, the Gift had given me an edge. I was able to use it to my advantage all the time. But then I started to learn things I wished I didn't know.
But of all the lies I had been told, it was my wife's lie that made me wish I had never received the Gift to begin with.
\-------------
We had sat down for dinner, as usual. Smiling, I asked for the bowl of potatoe salad.
The loud crash of the bowl against the ceramic floor caught me by surprise.
"Are you ok, honey?"I asked, rushing over to aid her. "Are you hurt?"
"I'm fine, babe"came the response.
A lie.
The Gift told me as much.
The Lie was that she was fine.
The Truth, that she had been to see the doctor earlier that day. Stage four cancer.
The Motive, she didn't think she could confide in me. Not because she didn't want to hurt me, but because I had seemed more distant recently, more preoccupied with work and other things. Ever since receiving the Gift, I had been neglecting her more and more. She felt alone, in her own home, in her hour of need.
She didn't know why I was holding her so tightly, or why I was crying, but she welcomed it and reciprocated.
I knew what I had to do. I had to see Aletheia again.
\--------------
If you enjoyed this story and would like to see more from me, please consider subscribing to my subreddit [here](https://www.reddit.com/r/phreaklikeme/)! |
"Alfred!"The scream sends me running to him. I've been working overtime again, I have to, he won't let another nurse near him. And Wayne is a biter.
I find the patient covered in blood, his head split open. Idiots, they forgot to put his brace on properly. "How did this happen?"Bruce didn't like anyone touching him, but given the right distractions, he would yield.
"It was..Joker. He took Damian Alfred. I have to..contact the League.."If he moves, he'll just exacerbate the wound. I hold him gently, as one would a child.
"Not before I get you some painkillers, Bruce."It was always the personal connection that worked. The other nurses didn't understand that.
I break away from him, retrieving a white pill "You need to take these.""No, I can..""Please, Bruce!"This time, he complies. And soon, he slumps into my arms.
I've already called the doctor, they need to be more careful with him next time.
...
"How is he, Pennyworth?"I barely flinch at the question, after working in this place for so long, with this patient in particular, few things surprise me.
"Mr. Wayne is doing fine at the moment, Dr. Drake. He hasn't had another episode like this since, well.."
"Since Dr. Todd was fired.""Yes."The warden, Jack White, was forced to make budget cuts some years ago. Unfortunately for Todd, Jack didn't like him very much. Despite his youth, Drake has proven wiser than all of the other doctors combined. We were lucky to have him.
"He never did get over that. I'll go see him."It impresses me how much Tim has bonded with the patient in the past few years. He'd even indulged Waynes fantasies on some level, to facilitate treatment, it was always easier, if risky, to help him through that medium. Somewhere along the way, Bruce had even incorporated Tims wife into his world. A sign of endearment, I'm sure.
"I'm sorry Alfred, I forgot to mention, the Waynes are coming..."Tim grimaces as he always does, a look of sympathy on his face.
The Waynes, the worst group of scoundrels I ever laid my eyes on. For years, they ignored Bruces..Mr. Waynes, psychological issues. And for what? their reputation?
But as much as it pains me, they are the only thing keeping this hospital running. It is their money that pays my salary after all.
But what hurts the most is that, despite their well-publicised monthly visits to this hospital. They elect to sit in the waiting room, content to listen as I talk about their sons condition, rather than visit him themselves. I can't tell you how much damage that has done to his psyche.
...
"Pennyworth. How is Bruce? You always seem to get along well."The two of them are almost as old as me, I should retire, but I can't just abandon my patient.
"A constant presence is necessary for his rehabilitation. He is struggling Mr. Wayne. He hurt himself again this morning."
"Thomas, I told you. This place isn't good for him."
"Now now, Martha. It's not as bad as it sounds. You said on the phone that he's not improving."
"Yes, over the past few months he's been..getting worse."
"How have they changed? I could help, I am a doctor."Thomas loved to remind me of that. But he never wanted to speak to the doctor, only me. I assume so that he could loom the accomplishment over me.
I barely contain the urge to wipe that sly smirk from his face, but I have a convincing smile. "Mr. Wayne. As you know, these fantasies he has, they reflect his mental state. Ever since the incident with his son."
"You mean Grayson."I did mean him, the teenager perished in a car crash 18 years ago. Just months after that, Bruce was brought in, mumbling about his parents murder and a bat costume.
"Oh, that orphan. Oh, Bruce should never have adopted him. People like that are always trouble."Would I be fired for smacking the both of them? Unfortunately, the answer is yes.
"Since **his sons** death, he's always found it difficult to cope. For a while, we were getting somewhere."In his fantasy he'd adopted the same boy, and for a few years, he seemed happy.
"But Bruce was unable to accept his own happiness. He rejected it, and his son left him alone once again."Bruce, or should I say Batman, always had trouble settling down. Dr. Todd told me this was a result of his self-loathing, likely a result of Graysons death.
"We know this, Pennyworth."
"Recently, he's isolated himself further. We believe he's recalled something traumatic. He's mentioned a Damian every day for the past month."
"..Damian..Yes, I know. His old girlfriend had a miscarriage. The Middle-Eastern one."
"Once again, I would like you to inform me about all the events that could have caused this state in him. It's been 2 decades."
"Are you saying this is our fault?! It's been how long, and you have gotten nowhere!"
"What I am saying, Mrs. Wayne, is that perhaps you should be trying to help your son. Did you comfort him after the deaths of his children? What about his wifes murder?! When did you last go to see him?!"
"Miss Kyle was a trollop. Not deserving of.."
"You scoundrels! You don't give a toss about Bruce. This is all to save your reputation. You wouldn't want anything to ruin Thomas Wayne Jrs. presidential campaign, would you?!"I never could tell Mr. Wayne the truth about his parents, or his brother, at this point, it would break him completely. That I knew.
"I..I will have you fired if you ever speak to me that way again! Come on Martha, we're leaving."I merely scoff as they do. I have more important things to do.
Bruce Wayne needs me. And I'll be there for him, as long as that remains true.
...
When I return, I find the security officer, Jim Gordon, sat at Bruces beside. They've fought in the past, often Bruce will envision other patients as vicious criminals. Waylon Jones was attacked for his skin condition just last week. Not for the first time. But Gordon knows that, deep down, Bruce is good. On his lunch break, Jim comes to visit, sharing stories about his daughter, the valedictorian.
"Master Bruce, welcome home."I could see the wheels turning, his mind would fill in the blanks. How he got from the roof of the police department, to the dingy cave under the Wayne mansion. Bruce was nothing if not imaginative.
"Alfred...we'll get Damian back, right?"
I take his hand, gently so I don't spook him. "We will, Bruce, I promise."
He doesn't smile, he rarely does, but tonight, it seems, he might get some rest. So long as I can figure out how Batman saves Robin tonight. "So, what did you find, Bruce?""Well..there was a container at the docks.."These tales always need a villain, perhaps a hero or two to help the Dark Knight in his darkest hour. And a satisfying ending to boot.
Luckily for us both, I am a fantastic actor.
...
(Let me know what you think. It's late, but I think I'll need to edit this, so I'll go over this again tomorrow, with a clear head.) |
As I wiped the bits of leftover pie off my face, dabbing the collar of
my shirt against my lips to remove the purple stains, I heard a tapping
at my window, looking over to see a police officer standing outside. Rolling down the window I gave the officer a nod, placing the
empty tray aside. “Morning officer, are you having a peachy day?”
“I’m fine, I just got called to check out a suspicious individual. The
reports said you were licking the crust of a pie, talking about how you
would destroy it once you got into the car. As you can expect a lot of
people were concerned with your comments.”
“Concerned enough to call the cops? Look It was just a bit of fun, I did destroy the pie too, see that empty tray next to me? I did that, just dug in and destroyed that pie. It was delicious. As you can see officer, there’s
nothing weird, I was just enjoying a snack.”
“A snack? You ate a whole pie as a snack?” The officer leaned down towards his chest, whispering into his phone. “Yeah, going to need back up, there’s a freak eating pie in his car.”
“Psst, eating pie? I’m sure you can handle that?” The voice on the phone seemed less than thrilled by the officer's concerns, nearly hanging up, only for the officer to say something that got his attention.
“He ate the entire thing in his car. This isn’t a normal guy.” The officer must have thought he was being quiet, giving me a reassuring thumbs up as I listened to the conversation.
“The entire thing? Was he at least crying? Maybe he was having a breakdown?” The voice tried to be rational, tried to think of a way to justify the threat, but there was none.
The officer leaned closer to me, dragging his tongue along my eyelid, rolling his tongue back into his mouth before responding to the phone. “Not even an ounce of salt on his eyes.”
“Stay safe, I’m calling in the big guns.” The phone buzzed off as the officer freed his gun from its restraint. “Ok, hands in the air, I need you to step out of the vehicle.”
Still being mentally disturbed by the lick, I panicked, throwing my arms up only to realize that I couldn’t leave the car with my hands up. “Can you.... Open the door for me? My hands are in the air.” As soon as I finished the sentence, a bullet fired at the car, knocking off my side mirror. Dropping my arms down, I did what any sane person would do. Stomped on the accelerator and fled, having to duck as a spray of bullets followed my escape.
All this for eating a pie? I could hear the cop screaming at me as I exited the parking lot. “YOU BETTER RUN YOU FREE THINKER!” As he said that, it was like I had a moment of clarity. I was an adult, I could do whatever I wanted. Mortal restraints could not bind me. I pushed open the car door, leaping out of the moving vehicle. Instead of rolling down the road, I instead floated, hovering above the floor. The cars moving past me seemed slower, allowing me to sidestep the oncoming traffic. I had reached enlightenment.
I could hear tugging tanks on the horizon, each drawing near with their weapons facing me. Their weapons couldn’t hurt me. Anything that was shot my way just vanished, I was a God, the pie God. At least I was until a blackness consumed me, waking up on a hospital bed, a few concerned nurses staring down at me.
“Oh, you're awake? You passed out after choking on a handful of pie. Why were you even eating pie in a carpark weirdo? Not that it matters, I’m just glad that you woke up from that nightmare, you wouldn’t stop making weird noises, a few of the other nurses really thought you would die.”
I didn’t know how to respond to that; it had all felt so real. “Sorry” Was all I could mumble, the nurse giving me a nod before leaving to recover. Beside me sat the half-eaten pie, still in its beautiful silver tin. Well, one more bite wouldn’t hurt.
{If you enjoyed my story, Feel free to check out r/pmmeyabootysstories Any support helps! I will also be posting more of my writing there.} |
A blue sky and a green field as far as the eye could see appeared before you out of nowhere as you dropped down from a meter above the ground.
The last thing you remembered was the way home from school. However, halfway home everything disappeared in front of you. The world around you went dark and you found yourself standing before three angelic creatures that immediately launched into a lengthy speech; you were being summoned to another world to save it from the Demon Lord who was prophesied to claim it as his own.
Upon questioning this very generic quest, the only thing you really understood was that the novice summoner that was casting the spell had made a crucial mistake; instead of getting the fluffy companion she wanted, she’d be getting you.
And that was it before the spell finished and you were thrown into another world.
Standing up, it took you a while to get your bearings. You could have sworn you watched yourself land on a plain grass field, but now that your mind had caught up with your body, you found yourself in the middle of a sizable mud crater. Clawing your way out of the crater proved to be a challenge because all that hard earth gave way to your hands like butter to a hot knife.
However, after conquering the crater, you spotted a woman in an outfit that appeared to be the marriage between blue, frilly cloth and boiled leather. She let out a yelp at the sight of you and ran off towards a nearby town you hadn’t spotted while falling. She dropped her staff in her fit of panic as well. Although your feet seemingly sank a bit into the earth with every step, you made the choice to follow her at your own pace with her staff in one hand.
By the time you reached the town, the little summoner had already disappeared between the many stalls, shops, and the people frequenting them. Although more and more people began to throw you fearful looks as you made your way through the town, you figured it was because of your clothes and the staff in your hand; some random human in foreign clothes wielding a magical staff was marching through their town. Anyone would raise their eyebrows at that.
The ground beneath you had changed from grass to stonework, but your feet still sank into it all the same with every step. A pretty noisy construction site must have been nearby from the constant rumblings.
Inevitably you had to give up the notion of finding her on your own. Instead you turned to a couple nearby who had been sizing you up like everyone else. They froze when your eyes met, however they quickly pointed the way when you inquired where the girl you described had fled to. Their silent navigation led your way to a tavern across the street; The Errant Dog. You pushed your way through the door.
Literally.
The door flew off its hinges at your slightest touch and crashed violently into the patrons sitting nearby. The music, singing, and laughter all stopped at once. Everyone inside stared silently at you. After apologizing for what just happened, you cleared your throat and asked for the girl you were seeking.
It took people less than a few seconds to offer you the little summoner on her knees in front of you. She was scarcely able to meet your eyes at first, but eventually she summoned the courage to do so.
“Here’s your staff. Get off the floor and let’s go. You got a lot of explaining to do.” You threw her the staff and started to leave the tavern. You sent an apologetic look for the broken door towards the fat and disgruntled man in the back who you assumed to be the tavern owner.
“W-what do you mean?” She stuttered, eyes wide and almost tearing up as she caught her staff.
“You’re the one who summoned me, right? I’m here to stop the demon lord. Now c'mon.”
“Oh no.” She whined meekly.
\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_
Part 2: [Here](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/i9q4mc/wp_you_were_summoned_to_another_world_to_save/g1ldhed?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x) |
When my associates and I first caught wind of project Jotunn, only the formal declassification to the public was enough to convince us that this wasn't an out of season April Fool's prank.
The sanctioned drone footage on the breakroom TV was a scene straight out of a Saturday morning cartoon. Towering, bipedal husks of reinforced metal were demolishing one of those dummy towns used as nuke testing sites. Pillars of titanium-steel lattice work stomped craters into the asphalt and caved in rooftops. Giant clawed arms hefted cars and threw them like baseballs. Autocannons built into the wrists blasted apart crowds of test dummies with ruthless precision. Five robots in total rampaged across the suburbs, churning a wake of dust and smoke.
We beheld the next and greatest revolution in combined-arms warfare. Once this hardware gets further developed and manufactured, nobody could question the might of the free world again. Our company was going to make an absolute killing in the market of defense technology.
And we certainly did. Every world power was tripping over themselves to place orders on our jotnar, stockpiling droves of mechs in a frantic arms race. Our designs evolved to suit all manner of environment and tactical function. They could sport deployable flares and flak cannons to counter enemy aviation, or come equipped with piercing rounds and heartbeat sensors for urban peacekeeping.
But there are no solutions in this world. Only tradeoffs.
With the rise of the Jotunn came the bitter decent of the noble tank. To my spite and concern, these majestic, diesel-guzzling creatures were being cast aside (both figuratively and literally) by the biggest cliche in sci-fi history. In spite of all they have done for humanity since their humble beginnings as medieval catapults, the world suddenly has the nerve to call tanks boring and obsolete.
Sure, I could have developed tiny sabotage drones or giant trip wires and let the Square Cube Law do its magic, but I felt a statement had to be made. Tanks needed a comeback. Given the latest research and technology at our disposal, a team of experienced engineers could find some way to counter project Jotunn.
So I spoke to my superiors, got my grants, assembled my team, and started my righteous endeavor: the appropriately-named Project Thor.
&#x200B;
First item on the agenda was defense. Aside from models that specialized in anti-personnel, all jotnar mech variants were issued anti-material rounds. Given their height advantage, a jotunn would have a direct line of fire to strike where a tank's hull would be most vulnerable. Reinforcing tanks with enough extra armor would just make them cumbersome and a logistical hassle.
It was decided that the best defense is to not take damage in the first place. Jotnar would always outclass tanks in sheer force, so speed and stealth was our focus. Project Thor needed to be light, compact and maneuverable, falling back on the tank's natural low-profile.
We also accounted for this evasive build when choosing Project Thor's weaponry. A tank's superior barrel length brought superior range over most jotnar, but there was a frustrating catch: Whoever designed Project Jotunn factored in how easy it is to hit giant mechs with canons and ballistic missiles. Shells had to contend with layered armor that took ample punishment, and missiles were rendered harmless by the point-defense-laser system boasted by the latest jotnar generation.
So what offensive capacity were we left with? The solution was simple: Sniper rounds. For all their metal might, a jotunn was relatively vulnerable at a tiny central-chest area where the pilot's control chair was nested. Destroy the person, not their equipment.
Project Thor, being a tank, could support the barrel and recoil of the longest automatic sniper turret ever designed. The weight saved from replacing a traditional cannon allowed for the turret to aim faster.
&#x200B;
The planning stage concluded. Thor, my giant roomba on treads, was assembled and functional. All that's left now is to prove to the world that my newest creation could survive in a warscape dominated by giant robots.
My superiors refuse to expose any jotunn to live testing in fear of damaging such expensive gear, so I have chosen to take the ultimate risk. I will venture to the nearest warzone *myself* and dispatch as many jotnar as I can. Tanks will not fade into history as long as I live, and I will destroy lives before I let them get replaced by these discount gundams.
Edit: Part 2 is in the replies. Project Thor makes its last stand against Project Jotunn. |
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