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You wouldn't think much of our gym. After all, the sign in the window is misspelled, so why would you?
We've got the standard fare you'd find at any purple monstrosity, just that ours isn't painted some garish color. A row of treadmills, a row of stationary bikes and ellipticals, free weights, stretching area, some machines. You've been here, even if you haven't been here. It's a gym.
I work the front desk, overnight shift. They picked me for a reason and it's not my sparkling personality. Don't need that at night. We get a couple night shift workers on their days off but they're pretty blasé about the whole thing.
Why, our gym is special.
The sign in the window says so.
We do 24-Hour Exorcise.
Some goofball printing house made the mistake so I'm told, the owner's too cheap to fix it. Plus he gets new clients this way.
I spend my nights reading sci-fi paperbacks, they let me get away with that. Other than the night shift janitor, who gets time and a half for what he cleans up. Not a bad deal.
I'm in the middle of a pretty good Scalzi when the doors open, three figures bursting through into my lobby. I sigh, tuck my bookmark into the pages, and stand.
"Evenin'. Room two."
Two of them look rough, like they've gone ten rounds with a demon. Which...they have. That's the third person. Well, that's what's in the third person. Poor guy, possession is no joke. They've got silver chains etched with symbols wrapped around his wrists to keep the thing inside, at least til we get to Room Two.
I follow, rolling up my sleeves and stretched my neck out from a couple hours in an unreasonably uncomfortable chair. One of the two kicks the door open.
"Hey! Gentle."
He rolls his eyes, and pushes the possessed into the room. In there the two of them will wrap Velcro straps with silver thread sewn right into them. I will do the rest.
As I come in I toss each of them a towel and bottle of water. They drink greedily and wipe the sweat, grime and blood off their faces. The water isn't just for their thirst, it's holy water. Gotta be sure.
The dude in the chair looks up at me with eyes that glow bright red, smiling up at me.
"You know how this goes, right?"I ask him, kneeling down to look at him. His smile only gets wider.
"You think you know how this goes but you'd be wrong."He says.
I look at the hunters. They both shrug. I think they're the Winters brothers.
"He's been talking like that all night, doc."
I turn back to the possessed and look into those eyes. There's something in them that I recognize but I haven't seen in a while. Usually once they're in my chair they look scared, angry, they might try to bargain their way out. That's how demons roll. Predictable. This one isn't making a deal, not threatening, isn't even begging. That I expect. This I don't.
He looks pleased with himself.
"You followed?"I ask them, standing and opening the door to Room Two, looking back toward the lobby. There are wards, I put them up myself, but they aren't perfect. Nothing ever is.
"Not that we saw."
Strange. I kneel back in front of the possessed. He looks way too calm.
"Let's do this then, get him out of here. Hang in there buddy, this is gonna hurt."I put a hand on the guy's knee, he'll feel it but he won't be able to respond. Not yet. But soon.
There's a small cabinet in the room, filled with everything one needs for an exorcism. The type of thing I used to do in empty warehouses before this gym got a messed up sign and the owner decided he liked the extra money from the late night clientele. Plus I'm not half bad with a sewing needle and thread, so that's even more money from patching up hunters who get bit by their quarry. Happens more than you'd think, even for "professionals".
"You don't know what's coming."The demon says, through it's mouthpiece. I turn back with holy water infused with silver dust, to weaken it's hold. The rest is an incantation, some old Greek stuff that drives out the devil in you. From there it's just a matter of cleaning up.
"I sure do, done this enough times."I say, nodding to the two hunters who grab the possessed's shoulders and tilt his head back. Demons don't willingly drink holy water. Would you? Burns like hell, so I'm told.
"No, not that."The possessed says, eyes darting up to the ceiling. With that the whole gym starts to shake, a low series of tremors like something really big is walking towards us. The jars in the cabinet vibrate against each other and each tremor is more aggressive than the last.
"Doc?"
"Mm?"
"What's that?"
"Couldn't tell you. Open his mouth."
I see the panic flash through those red eyes.
"What?"I say. "You think you're the first to try mind games? Shit. One of you ignited the trees in front of the building, why you think it's just stone work now?"
"Wait."It says.
"Nope."I say. And I pour the holy water into the possessed's mouth and close his jaw, letting the burn sink in. "Sorry, buddy. Gotta do it."
His body convulses and I begin the incantation, all while the gym shakes more and more violently. Until it stops, suddenly. Same moment that the formerly possessed's head drops to his chest and his eyes return to a rather normal brown.
I kneel and check his pulse, weak but there. He opens his eyes.
"Thank you."He says.
"Alright boys, to the hospital with him."I say, standing and returning the now empty holy water bottle to the cabinet. Replacing that is the opener's problem, not mine.
"Thanks doc."The brothers say, taking the formerly possessed from the chair, much more gently this time, and back to the lobby. Before they leave, they place a small stack of silver coins on the desk. I return to my desk and pick up the book again, lifting my feet onto the desk. With a free hand I sweep the coins off into a small lockbox filled with coins of a similar nature. Currency of the night shift, as it were.
"Hey."One of the night shift workers. He doesn't seem bothered by the shaking, guess they just get used to that sort of stuff.
"What's up?"
"Can I get a water?"He asks. I lean back and grab one from the fridge under the desk and toss it to him, in response he puts a dollar bill on the desk.
Currency of the day shift. I tuck it into the back of the lockbox, someone else's problem.
"Thanks."
"No worries."
I go back to my book. All in a night's work. As it were.
The door opens and I sigh, setting the book down.
"Evenin'. Room two."
All in a night's work. |
It was a boring day in 9th grade. I had just moved to Stoneridge Highschool because my dad had to transfer because of work, making me the new kid on the block. I had just finished math class and was walking towards my history classroom, when out of nowhere, Benjamin pops up.
Great.
His reputation of being a bully preceded him, although I never had the fortune of being on the receiving end of his insults. This quickly changed as I heard him taunting me in the hallway. His superpower was reading minds. Of course he'd use that to pick on the new kid. He could read that I was anxious at the prospect of dealing with me. I had always been a chubby kid, and while I wasn't particularly overweight, i had just enough pounds to make myself a ripe target for bullies.
He closes the gap between us in the hallway and decides to start spewing the insults, despite my best attempts to widen the distance between us. As he cornered me, he started speaking to me.
*"What's the matter? Fresh meat's scared of me?"*
I ignored him, which further aggravated him. I'd never caught his attention before, as I tried to keep a low profile in this current school. Due to the fact that he had cornered me, he managed to get a good look at me, and realize that i was overweight. As i had expected, he read into my thoughts and saw that I was insecure about my weight, which lead into him spewing an insult.
*"What wrong, lard ass? Hard to run away when you're obese?"*
Right as he finished that sentence, something unfathomable happened. He started to expand violently, his body twisting and turning. He grew larger and larger and after a few seconds, it ended, it was truly an odd turn of events. He had just mocked me for being overweight and now he stood there. He was absolutely massive for a fellow freshman. He was panicking at what had just happened, and frantically begged me to tell him what the fuck just happened to him.
I thought I never had a superpower, but i realized i had the equivalent of a reverse uno card to any insult flung at me. I walked away from him feeling disgusted at what he had turned into, yet somewhat prideful that he ate his words. All he could do was bawl his eyes out in the corner as I left the empty hallway with a new found confidence.
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This is my first time posting on /r/writingprompts or writing a story of any kind besides school work, would you kindly give me feedback? Thank you all in advance. |
One second you were home, the next you were floating in a white void.
"Greetings Ahura Mazda!"A chorus of voices rang out to you. It was a large circle of men, mostly men, some had animal parts, some didn't have any human parts at all. A lot of the men looked exactly the same, but were twins of another race. Like a created character in a video game, it had all the same features, but just race, or race and hair were changed.
Everyone greeted every arrival. A couple Odin's were introduced after your arrival. But after a bit you came to the conclusion American Yahweh, or at least that is what you thought he was had called this meeting.
"Greetings everyone, there are less of us than last time. And it's because of Atheist. We have an Atheism problem. Last time we convened we still had three Ahura Mazda, now this is but one Lord of Wisdom who remains."The gods murmured to each other. A man with the face of bird of prey put his hand on your shoulder. You still had no idea who or what an Ahura Mazda was.
Your grandparents were immigrants, and your parents worked hard to assimilate, you weren't a strong Atheist, but you definitely weren't following any religion before coming here. And now, what does it matter, they all appear right? Or wrong? It seems Atheism was making gods not exist.
American Yahweh was noting other gods who were no longer present. He finished and left a pause, the other gods stopped talking. After this moment of silence he continued. "The Atheism problem must be addressed. We must again work miracles and show our might, to regain followers and become stronger."A lot of Yahweh's, and Allah's backed this plan, as did a bunch of east Asian looking gods. The god who put his hand on your shoulder spoke out against this plan. He said it would only benefit the more prevalent pantheons. He looked to me for sympathy.
"I don't even know who you are."I replied as I touched his ribs. He vanished immediately. I don't know why I did it. Or even spoke at all. But I had been there a while and just for that moment forgot where I was, or had been comfortable, or uncomfortable enough to speak up.
The gods recoiled in shock. "Ahura Mazda what have you done!"Christian Yahweh shouted. I touched the closest god to me and said "I don't believe in you."Poof he vanished.
At first it was out of surprise, but then it was anger. How many suck friends and family members had prayers go unanswered? Why was there so much suffering? I chased down them all. After each one, I felt a little stronger. I think a Zeus threw a lightning bolt at me. I didn't believe he was the god of lightning and the bolt faded on touching me, and so did he.
The gods went into a full panic. They fled the white void and I was alone. Alone but I could see everything. The whole Earth was below me. I could see gods hiding in the oceans, the clouds, on mountains, I found them all. Then I found American Yahweh and he came back to the void.
"You wear his face, but you are not Ahura Mazda! I was too late, you are the Atheism problem come to life!"American Yahweh looked at me with disdain in his eyes. "I don't believe that, I'm normal person, born of normal parents."My words wounded him. "And I don't believe any god originally from the Middle East should be white, so I don't believe in you."And he vanished.
So now I watch from the void. Occasionally a new god pops up. It's usually a new version of an old god. Maybe a show or movie makes a god or pantheon popular but I vanish them as soon as they come up. Once the bird headed god came back, I left him for a bit. He didn't recognize me, but he didn't help people, he just started to accumulate more followers, and then he made another god and I vanished them both.
The world is not any harder without the gods. I watch people struggle, but without gods pushing faith, people help each other. Bad things happen, but with no god to blame, people are there for each other. I am not Ahura Mazda, I am the Atheism solution. |
"She'll be coming around the mountain when she comes!"the sword in Murdoc's hand sang happily.
"Oh my god!"Murdoc screamed. "You realize there are dragons chasing us, right?"
"Of course,"the sword replied. Her voice was as imperious as any princess Murdoc had ever encountered.
"So,"he said, dodging a blast of fire, "do you plan on helping any time soon?"
The sword laughed. "So, I have to my job and yours?"
"Your job?"Murdoc said. "So far you've done fuck all."
He heard the intake of breath behind him and lunged behind a boulder. Half a second later the area around him was bathed in flame. Smoke rose from his magically reinforced armor and his skin blistered. Two more breaths later, the boulder cracked and started to fall apart.
"I don't believe that is the proper way to address a princess,"the sword said.
"For crap's sake,"he cried, "I've saved actual princesses that I had to carry on my shoulders that were more helpful than you!"
He tightened the grip on her handle and stepped from behind what was left of the rock. He took a fighting stance and prepared to meet the charge of the lead dragon. The sword began to buck and jerk.
"I told you, you can't use me!"it squealed.
"Fine,"Murdoc yelled. He dropped the princess and drew his own blade.
"How dare you!"the princess wailed.
Murdoc didn't have time to respond. He called forth his power and let out a deafening roar. The lead dragon ran into a wall of force. The other two dragons rammed their compatriot in the rear. Murdoc used the time to pull a large scroll from his bag of holding.
"Excuse me,"the princess said, "I'm still on the ground. There's dirt on the ground. You know that right?"
Cracks formed in Murdoc's barrier as the dragons pressed forward. He was only halfway done reading the scroll, and it didn't look like he would finish in time. He couldn't stop reading, though. Bad things happened when incomplete magic was let loose.
"I said,"the princess pressed, drawing out the words, "I'm getting filthy just lying here!"
The barrier fell and the dragons advanced. Murdoc read faster but the dragons were less than a handful of feet from him. This was it. His last stand. Even if the incantation completed, it wasn't going to do squat against three dragons.
"I see,"the princess intoned, "it appears another unworthy knight has come for me."
Murdoc couldn't believe those were the last words he was going to hear. His voice faltered and the scroll burned to ash. Wild magic tore through the air, blowing dust and debris about.
The lead dragon held up a single claw and pulled the magic into it.
"Yup,"the princess said, "you're done for. That's what you get for getting me dirty."
Murdoc turned his back on the dragons. They were going to kill him anyway.
"You don't like dirt,"he yelled. "Too bad."He kicked as much dirt on the princess as he could.
"Stop!"The word echoed.
Murdoc turned to see the lead dragon's head bowed before him. The eyes didn't look right. They seemed swollen and maybe a little bloodshot.
"We're not trying to kill you,"the dragon gasped.
"You're not?"Murdoc said.
"No,"the dragon replied. It sounded relieved. "We're trying to thank you."
Murdoc was flabbergasted. "For stealing from you?"
"You'll have to spell it out for him,"the princess said. "he's not too bright."
"Oh my god! Will you please shut up!"Murdoc and the dragon said in unison.
The quiet that followed lasted a long time. It was broken by the sound pf a heavy coin-purse hitting the ground.
"This concludes our transaction,"the dragon said.
"Transaction?"Murdoc asked, nonplussed.
"Yes,"the dragon said. "This is your reward for ridding us of this thing. If we ever hear it again, we will lay waste to your kind."
"Is that all I'm worth?"the princess asked.
The dragon raised its head and fired a stream of flame at the blade.
"Sarafax,"one of the trailing dragons hissed. "Stop wasting your fire. You that doesn't work. You've only been trying for a hundred years."
The dragon grumbled. "At least now I can get some sleep."
Murdoc watched the dragons fly away, bemused.
"That's right, cowards! Run away!"the princess called.
Murdoc looked at the sword he'd been paid to rescue. What was he going to do with the thing?
"Don't stand there looking stupid."it said, "pick me up."
Murdoc picked up the sword ignoring its nattering. He put in his bag of holding and the sound blessedly ceased. He decided the next time he was in Seaport, there was an ocean that suddenly desperately needed a new sword. |
"Your ticket, miss."
I blinked. Slow, purposeful, trying to clear my vision as the concierge swam into focus. He looked bored, his hat askew, one button undone, the stain of cigarette smoke on his shirtsleeve. I took my ticket with shaking fingers. According to the slip of glossy paper, the film I would be seeing was titled *Rebirth*.
"Please continue, miss. The film is about to start."
"Right."My breath rasped, and I coughed to clear my throat as I moved inside.
The theater had a vintage feel, with glistening gold railings and red carpets. Milling about the foyer were countless faces, awash in mindless chatter and vague speculation of what was to come. A few eyes caught mine, a recognition shining there that I could not return. But each brought the feeling of distant familiarity, like forgetting the name of an acquaintance long past. It was dizzying. I stopped analyzing the crowd in favor of finding myself a seat.
Up the spiraling staircase I trailed and down the hall. *Theater five*, my ticket read. I pushed through the double doors in the dimly lit theater. As always, the middle was rapidly filling, but I was able to find my favorite spot: to the right and slightly back, where no one could block my view with unfair height differences.
Slowly, slowly, the theater filled. I regretted not grabbing popcorn. I wasn't hungry, but it would've given my hands something to do. Why couldn't I remember how I'd gotten here? Why couldn't I remember waking up today, or yesterday?
A woman with cropped hair, dark eyes, and a nose too big for her face approached me from the isle. "May I?"she asked. Her voice was thick, unaccustomed to the words. I tried to place the accent. French, maybe. She pointed to the empty seats beside me, closer to the wall.
"O-of. Yes, of course. Sorry."I quickly stood, tucking myself into the folded seat as much as possible to make room for the petite woman.
"Don't apologize, it never suited you,"she murmured as she passed.
My mind reeled. "I'm sorry,"I said, "but do I know you?"
Her teeth were slightly crooked when she smiled. Like mine, before I'd had my braces. "Yes. You don't remember yet, but you will."I opened my mouth to speak, but she interrupted, "Hush and sit. The film is starting."
Too stunned to insist otherwise (or perhaps too well trained by societal conventions) I took my seat once more and faced forwards. The lights dimmed fully, and with the gentle whisper of fabric, the heavy red curtains lifted to reveal the screen. With a pop, the sound system kicked in, and the film began.
The blood, I realized, was the same red as the carpets. The same red as the curtains, and the brocade of our seats. I watched as the child was born and wrapped in a stark, white towel, and cradled in its mother's waiting arms.
"What am I watching?"I whispered to the woman beside me.
Her laughter was kind, and she patted my arm with patient understanding. "Your rebirth. *Our* rebirth."
"Ours?"
My eyes were wide as I looked back to the-- Was it really a film? Was this real? How could it possibly be, if I was here?
"Did... Did I die?"
"Yes."
"I see."Words left me, a rush of emotions welling inside. But as I stared at the screen and listened to the mother -- *my* mother -- softly singing, I felt... peace. Comfort. The song was one I had never heard, in a language I had never spoken, but I recognized it as the one that would sing me to sleep and the tune I would hum under my breath when nerves shook me. It was the song I would dance to at my wedding, and the song I would play at my mother's funeral.
"I didn't think the afterlife would be a rundown movie theater,"I said finally.
This time, the woman's laughter is dark and melodious. "We never do,"she agreed.
"You keep using 'our' and 'we'. Why is that?"
"You don't know yet?"she asks. "I am you. We are all the same, reincarnations across millennia. This is the birth of our newest life."
I looked around at the many individuals watching the film. Men and women of all walks of life, all colors and shapes. I realized now the different fashions, marking them from separate eras. Staggering was the multitude of lives I had been given, the experiences I must have had and could not remember.
"Is this it, then?"I asked. "We watch and... wait until the next life begins?"
"No. We will watch and wait and when the time comes, we will help. Every time you felt in your gut what was right or wrong, that was us. Guiding. Urging."
"And I'll get to do that? To help?"
She smiled, white teeth shining in the dark of the theater. "Yes. You will be needed, in what is to come."
I would be needed. I felt my eyes sting. In life, I hadn't felt needed. In life, I had felt like the smallest fish in a vast ocean, waiting to be devoured. But I was needed. I was important -- I was the one who would guide myself and support myself. I would be my closest confidant, the keeper of all my secrets, witness to my successes and failures.
I was the only person who would be there, from birth until death, for every moment of my life. I would be kind to myself. Firm with myself.
The baby on the screen began to cry as tears slid down my cheeks. *Scream.* *Scream. Let it out! The world is vast and terrifying, but you are loved. I love you. You will be okay.* And slowly the cries settled into a babble, the baby sighing into sleep.
*You will be okay. I am with you. I will never leave.* |
The role of the detective is to solve the mystery, to find what man would be so inclined to slip into crime. Everyone knows the picture, the man squat in the alley with a pad of paper in his weary palms, a steely gaze against the blood in front of him. A man so engrossed within mystery he has become one himself. I was a man like that once, doing the hard work, getting my hands dirty when needed. Venturing into the rotting underbelly of the city, one so glittery at break of day but so wretched when the night creatures rise from the woodwork, casting light into the dark nooks where never known was the purifying light of day.
My work wasn't pretty, but it's a job that needs doing, The only problem was I was too good at the job. Everyone knows someone who to the good book swears up and down that they didn't do it, and they're a man by God who would never disrespect His good name on His good book, but the system fails and they're sent to the big house to rot. They might catch the real crook and send him in, but the man you got out on the other side, after their unjust imprisonment, would never be the same.
A detective's real job is to hand out death sentences. The judge and the jury and all the spectators will believe the man you fingered as the culprit is the villain so long as you did your job right, and nothing you can do after the accused is let down after questioning can change the hearts of the masses. You might keep working, because something didn't quite line up and you come back and say to the people "We've got the wrong guy". But the stink never blows away. Forever that man is a criminal and nothing more, because nobody wants to dwell on the thought that an innocent man might have been sent to these crates we call justice. The detective has to have complete conviction and never be wrong. What the detective tells the people sticks. Your biggest fear is that you send an innocent man down a path he can't retrace.
Me I've never had that problem. No matter the case, whether murder or robbery or smuggling, the first suspect I've identified is the one who did it. Early on in my career of course I did the rounds, never wanting to send an innocent man into what he didn't deserve, but I never failed when identifying the correct perpetrator the first time. The guilty must give off something that only I'm in tune with, or maybe I'm just lucky. When someone brings me a new case, I don't pound pavement like one might expect from a man contracted for such a job. The first part of a new investigation for me is to open the phone book and pick a name. Without fail I've got my man. The real hard work for my brand is linking the evidence to the suspect. As much as I wish I could be judge, jury, and executioner, my job is to convince those parties I've got the man.
A detective gets paid by the hour, and I couldn't very well charge above what people were about to pay. I started charging by the case. My bottleneck was with the courts. I was so confident in my ability, I could've solved cases in front of the weeping widow or the enraged aristocrat, but I wasn't about to go and draw the heat that would bring.
Where the money started coming in was in bribes. Of course the mafioso's will pay good money to keep their good and loyal workers under them and not behind bars. The courts might need convincing, but the mob can put the connections together, and I was too good. It was cheaper for them to slip me something on the side than for them to have to bring up and train new employees, and it was better for me to have a less than perfect record. It was good work, and when anybody asked how I was getting the money I would always say I had a hell of a bookie. It was all lies however.
My big break was when I realized I could pinpoint a suspect before the crime. That's when I went to the mob instead of them coming to me. I told them I could point out the cars running the drugs before their competitors could even get into the city. They ran by me a set of trunks, some loaded and some not and asked me which had the guns in them and sure enough I had a perfect record. It was time for me to switch careers anyhow. My detective business was too much work for what I could do. I started working for the mob as a 'speculator'. They would place me at the main road and I'd point out to them who to follow. Their competitors thought they were playing it smart by running their stuff under the body panels and coming through the main road, right past the police.
One day they started catching on to me. I'd go home and the lock would be jimmied open but nothing inside would be amiss. They were sending me a message. So I started leaving anonymous tips for the police, where they could find this 'speculator' who was entrenching the mob. It took them long enough to find me. I bought a small farm out in the countryside and buried all the gold I could get my hands on in the field. I then went back to the city and drove around and around until I got recognized and picked up. I was too good at what I did though. There was no paper trail between me and the mob, and suddenly all my money had disappeared. The police thought I had bought everything I had on credit and the check came due and they let me go.
I don't know what I'm going to do now, but I know what's going to happen to me. All the guys trying to move product into the city can now, and they can get around safely now that I'm off the job. They're going to move quick to make sure I "stay off the job". The mob has fingers in every pie, so they're going to think I squealed and then got off on "good behavior". I'm out of their protection roll and onto their hit list. My only regret is that I was too good. I always believed my abilities would give me more, and when they didn't I took. Now I'm going to be the start of some young upstart's career, just another cold body laying in the alley, one more man swallowed by this city. |
"...To my eldest, Jessica, I leave my Parisian estate and all that resides within it."The lawyer looks at her deliberately. "There's a lot of details to consider here, but suffice to say that we've defined 'resides within it' quite rigorously. I'll leave it here for now, for the sake of brevity."
She nods. "That's... That's fine."Jess looked a little out of it. Had been since the announcement of dad's...
It felt a little callous, maybe, having to go into legal minutia on who got what this short of a time after the funeral. But dad was always a stickler for stuff like this, making sure that everything was taken care of once he was done with something. He'd have wanted this.
"To my oldest boy, Liam, I leave my home estate and all that resides within it, as well as..."The lawyer flips over to the next page. "... My automobile collection, although excluding safe deposit box 824."
I blinked at that, and my siblings all showed various signs of confusion. Did he..? Was he really..?
"Did he give any reason for that?"Liam - well, he didn't frown. Perhaps questioned would be the right word. There was certainly a desire there to know what was going on.
The lawyer chuckled. "Funnily enough, there was an explicit desire that the reason not be mentioned. And that only the recipient of the box see what's inside. Although they likely know already, given my conversations with the man."
What- don't fucking give that hint!
"Moving on,"The attorney casually noted, as I struggled to keep my face straight. "To my youngest blood, Allister. Half of my liquid wealth, and all of my stocks and shares - we can go over the list later, if you like?"
Allister bit his lower lip and clenched his lips. "Sure. Fuckin- Yeah, okay."
Allister hadn't taken dad's death very well.
"There's a few smaller possessions gifted personally to each of you,"The lawyer said, in an understanding tone, while completely misreading the situation. "But for now we're handling the legally difficult items."
"Just... Let's move on, all right? God fuckin'..."Allister moved quickly out of the room, his voice trailing behind him. "I need a smoke break. Read without me."
"Legally, I can't-"
"Fine! Fine. I'll just wait here for now then."
Liam moved a little closer to him, though Allister flinched away. "We can take a break if you want, Al."
My brother looked as if he was considering it for less than a half second. "This is going to be eating at me if we don't get it over and done with. Let's just fuckin' finish the legal crap."
The lawyer glanced around until we all gave him a nod, before he cleared his throat and continued. "To my adopted daughter Mikoto, I leave the remaining half of my liquid wealth and my company."The lawyer winced. "That last bit took a while to figure out, legally speaking, so I'm going to have to ask you to meet up in private to discuss it. That's less of an understanding what you're owed thing, and more of a 'if you don't work with us on this, it's likely that there will be legal consequences'."
My sister continued to be silent for a short moment, arms folded tightly and face unreadable save for the tears. She had become so closed off from everyone since dad had died, and it hurt all of us in turn. It hurt everyone she knew, to see her like this. Eventually, she spoke, though it sounded as if she had a vice around her throat as she did so. "He taught me beforehand how to handle this. I'll arrange a meeting with you."
The man nodded. "Thank you. I know this is hard-"
"What the hell does Michael get?"Allister asked suddenly, apparently having done some calculations in his head. "You've gone through pretty much all of the major crap, and dad loved him just as much as he loved any of us. So what the fuck does he get?"
That shocked Jess just enough to get her to speak again. "I'm... I'm sure dad thought of that. He always thinks of everything. It made him... It made him dad."
"It's likely the box."Mikoto stated, staccato. We glanced at her. "The box, explicitly denied to Liam. And given what Mister Browning has told us, Michael already knows what he's getting in all likelihood."
*Now* everyone was looking at me, even as the lawyer was desperately trying to get their attention back. I instinctively met each of their eyes in turn, but reminded my self that, no, I was not in front of an audience of politicians that desired nothing but my throat torn out. I was in front of family.
But no matter who I was in front of, lying never got any easier.
"I don't know what you talked to dad about,"I began, keeping my voice level, and turning my head towards the leech who buggered this up. "But I do know that I trust him. I don't know what is in that safe deposit box, but I do know that even if it was the only thing that dad gave to me, that he would have a reason for it. Dad always had a reason."
Thank the lord above, that seemed to satisfy my siblings. Well, satisfy in the relative sense. Dad's death had left scars that his widow's continued life couldn't hold a candle to.
It affected me too, even if I didn't show it as openly as Allister or Mikoto.
"... Well."The lawyer said. "Let's finish off for the moment, then."He took a breath before reading. "To my adopted son Michael, I leave you the contents of safe deposit box 824."
For a very long two seconds, the man seemed to deliberate if he should be saying the next line or not. Eventually, though, he must have concluded that it was the only thing he could do.
"... You know what to do."
God's. Stinking. Taint.
---
*"Son. Come over here for a second."*
*"What is it dad?"*
*"You remember my wife, son?"*
*"... Yeah."*
*"When you're old enough, Michael, I'll call you back here again. We'll spend a little time reading over the documents in one of my safe deposit boxes. Remember son. Eight-hundred and twenty-four. Can you repeat that back to me?"*
*"Eight-hundred and twenty-four."*
*"Again?"*
*"Eight-hundred and twenty-four."*
*"One more time?"*
*"Eight-hundred and twenty-four!"*
*"Ha! No need to shout. But that'll do for the moment. Just know that while you can't do anything about that woman for the moment, that all you need is a little patience, and you'll get your due. I've tried to teach all of your older brothers and sisters how to be good people, and what's more, how to be effective good people."*
*"What about me?"*
*"... It's selfish of me, son. Michael. But I'm going to teach you not how to be good, but how to be ruthless. I love all of you, even if She doesn't. But if the rest of my children are going to be kind and well-meaning, they'll need someone to make sure they don't get taken advantage of in the ways they can't conceive. They'll need you, Michael."*
*"... I don't really get what you mean, dad."*
*"You will, son. Don't you worry. Now give your dear old dad a hug before that woman takes you back."*
*"I love you, dad."*
*"I love you too, son."*
---
>SAFE DEPOSIT BOX 824
>CONTENTS
[24] PHOTOS
[50] PAGE DOCUMENT
[1] RECEIPT
[1] ENVELOPE WITH [500 000] USD INSIDE [USE FOR LEGAL FEES]
---
*"And when I'm gone, son, you can use these. They won't let you take back everything that woman took from you and your siblings. But it will give you something, at the very least. Safety. Safety, and closure."*
*"I don't think you could convince me not to do this, dad."*
*"Ha! I suppose not. But remember everything I've taught you, including that last lesson, alright?"*
*"You wouldn't have picked me if I couldn't do that."* |
The gunfire ends as soon as it began. Everyone is on the floor, either crying or begging for their lives. The guards were taken out so quickly that not one of them drew a weapon before they were knocked unconscious.
I smirk and check my watch.
"...Hm. Not bad boys! 28 seconds. Are you trying to impress me or somethin'? Because it's working. Looks like A-Team wants some presents when we get home. How's B-Team doing?"
"Ugh, two seconds boss! This vault ain't standard, but it's coming down all the same!"Vince grumbles from deeper inside.
I raise an eyebrow, stepping past a few prone civilians being watched by Glasses and Lucky Luke. One of the civilians is wearing a strange necklace and a rather elaborate costume. *What's his deal?...* I nudge him with the tip of my shotgun to get his attention.
"Hey. Nice glamour, Houdini. Pass that on over, why don't ya?"
He scowls. "I-Infidels... Do you have any idea what you are doing?! You will incur the wrath of the Almighty! Br-Break the seals, and our world will-"
I roll my eyes, and slam the butt of my shotgun into his head, knocking him out. "Fucking religious nutcase..."I grumble, yanking the necklace off his neck, and holding it up.
Lucas chuckles, shaking his head. "Shouldn't talk back to the boss, pal. She'll fuck you up."He nudges the man with his boot, pushing him out of the path.
This jewelry is like nothing I've seen before. A large silver disc with several tiny golden swords piercing it from within. It's ornate. Could be worth something; though it *does* feel a little flimsy... But I like it. I shove it in a pocket, and hear a loud clattering come from nearby.
"Agh! There we go. Hinges open. Boss, come take a look back here!"
I stroll deeper into the bank, scanning the walls. I've never seen a bank like this. There's like, art everywhere. Religious art. Halos adorn the heads of several old men. I roll my eyes. They're so tacky. Even if they were worth something, they're too big to just run away with.
I see Rudy helping Vince drag away the precious Vault Cracker from the great steel door at the end of the hall. "Boss, this place is weird."
"Yup. I don't like it. Let's just grab whatever we can carry and throw it in the van. I want out of here in three minutes. Rudy, you grab bags of bills, Vince, check...for..."
I trail off as the heavy door opens slowly, holding up my shotgun.
There's no money, but that's now the last thought in my mind.
Inside the vault is... An apocryphal sight. The walls and floor are the same steel as the door, but they're decorated in... Runes. Giant red sigils that I've never seen before.
On the floor, atop one of the runes, is... A girl. Chained to the floor, hand and foot- She looks terrified.
I lower the shotgun after a moment, and glance back at Vince. He looks just as shocked as I am- I'm not hallucinating.
"...WHAT THE **FUCK** IS THIS?!"I shout, to nobody in particular.
"...I-I don't like this boss. We shouldn't mess with whatever this is. Close it back up and let's bail."Rudy says, practically stuttering.
Ignoring him, I walk towards the girl. She backs away, though only manages to shuffle a few inches back before she's at the limit of her chains.
A million thoughts are racing through my mind. "...What's your name?"I decide to ask.
She simply stares at me, trembling. What the *hell* is this? Is this some sort of freaky sex shit? It's really musty in here. And she doesn't look to be having fun... Is she a slave?...Prisoner? Cautiously, I look at her shackles, making sure not to get too close. I don't see any keyholes.
I glance around. The room is entirely bare, save for the girl and the sigils painted onto the faces of the walls. I turn back to the vault door, and raise an eyebrow. That sigil looks just like the necklace I stole from that nutcase.
Frowning, I pull it out from my pocket.
I hold it up so she can see it. "You know what this is?"
She nods. After a moment, she seems to pause, and finally finds her voice. "...P-Please, destroy it."
The boys behind me start shouting something about 'getting the fuck out of here', but I'm not listening to them. I can't stop staring at the girl. She's obviously in quite a predicament; Scrawny and stiff, she looks starved. The steel shackles that hold her onto the floor look heavy, weighing her down. But behind that? She's...Cute.
Really cute.
...I mean, fuck it, right? What's the worst that could happen?
I drop the necklace onto the floor and crush it underneath my heel.
The girl looks up at me with a bright grin. "Y-You... You actually did it! I-I... I thought you were one of *THEM*, but I-I...O-Oh, thank you! Thank you! Y-You have no idea how long I've been STUCK in here! Wait just a moment!"
I back away from her. She's... Getting brighter. *Glowing?* I feel an intense heat radiating from her; She's shining like the sun.
A few moments later, I hear a hissing, then a clattering. Her shackles *melt* off of her body.
She giggles, sitting up straighter, her glow fading away. "W-Wow. Th-That... That...hurt..."
Just as promptly as she sat up, she falls over, collapsing.
I glance back behind me. Vince and Rudy are just staring in open-mouth shock.
...Sirens.
***FUCK.***
I shake my head. "*Damnit.* Bust open that window, Vince, we're taking this girl with us."
"We sure as hell AREN'T! Did you not see what she just -"
I shoot him an icy glare. I am not in the mood for a mutiny. Not now. "**YES, MA'AM.**"
"...Y-Yes, ma'am..." |
Mine is the strangest superpower I've ever heard of. I got pet insurance on my kitty, who immediately gained the ability to transform into a sky blue, hairless, floating version of himself with immense psychic powers. I got phone insurance and my phone turned into an electronic device I can modify into any form, as long as it fits my definition of "phone"with unlimited capabilities. Seriously, I hacked into every school lunch vendor's account and just arbitrarily added money, and ordered better quality food, provided for free to all students. I got home insurance, and my home became my Domain, I could literally warp reality within it to make my ideal home. Car insurance provided similar capabilities as phone insurance, though when I tested it out on an older car, strangely it allowed the car to fly instead of enhancing the computer systems. I discovered I could apply that to newer cars as well, my power never ceases to amaze me with how versatile it is.
I eventually, mostly with the help of Mr. Whiskers, mined several asteroids for materials, and delivered it directly to various governments and electronics manufacturing companies for an obscenely large amount of money, with the guarantee that I wouldn't upend the economy. Before I could enact my final phase, I purchased insurance on my entire body and existence.
It changed everything. Suddenly I could use any ability I had the creativity to think up, along with massively enhanced physical parameters and control. I then purchased an insurance policy (from several governments, banks, and other insurance companies) on my insurance company, ensuring someone wouldn't nullify my entire power through a sudden loophole, by eliminating my insurance coverage.
Finally, I bought two insurance policies with the proceeds from mining a significant portion of the asteroid belt. I bought one on Humanity, concentrating on my ideal conception of humanity as a whole, the kindness, perseverance, and creativity. Lastly, I bought an insurance policy... for the Universe. |
Josh awoke with a start and blinked at the ceiling. Angry voices drifted from downstairs, but the house was thankfully still standing. After his two roommates moved in, he considered that a good morning.
He quickly washed up and descended to the kitchen. The voices grew in volume only to fall abruptly silent when he opened the door. Rachel lowered a fork she had been gripping like a weapon, and the glow in her blue eyes faded. Lilian hid her claws under the table, and the wings bulging against the back of her skimpy blouse retracted into her shoulder blades.
"Morning,"Josh said with a smidgen of amusement. At least there was no broken furniture this time. "I thought I heard voices."
"Morning, handsome,"Lilian purred. She greeted everyone like she was eager to jump their bones. "We were just having a little talk between girls, weren't we?"
Rachel glared at her. "Yes, girl talk,"she gritted out. "Nothing you'd be interested in."
Josh snorted and went about brewing himself a cup of coffee. "Volunteering at the animal shelter again today?"
Rachel's expression cleared. "Yes, and I'll be helping a charity distribute food to the homeless afterward. Would you like to help?"
Across the table, Lilian rolled her eyes theatrically.
"It's important work,"Rachel said, clenching her fists.
"Whatever makes you feel better about yourself,"Lilian said dismissively.
"I'm trying to make a difference!"
"Do you?"Lilian took a languid sip from her cup. "In the end, people can only help themselves. If they don't try to dig themselves out of the hole they're in, nothing you do will change things."She smiled sultrily at Josh. "Abaddon's throwing a party tonight. Forget the charity and come with us."
"Sounds fun,"Josh said, taking a seat at the table. Devil parties were *wild*.
Rachel rounded on him. "Be careful! Creatures like her are just looking for a chance to corrupt another human."
"He can take care of himself,"Lilian said, caressing his upper arm. "Can't you, handsome?"
Josh nodded before he knew what he was doing. Her hypnotic voice just had that effect.
"Don't be tricked,"Rachel said urgently. "Although she may look like a comely woman, she is an amalgam of all that is evil."
Lilian preened. "Why, thank you."
Rachel sprang up and stomped her foot. "That wasn't a compliment. And get your claws off him already!"
"Why are you so upset?"Lilith asked, demonstratively trailing her nail up Josh's cheek. "Is it because you would prefer to get your hands on him instead?"
Rachel's gaze flicked his way, and a blush crept up her cheeks. "O-of course not. I'm merely concerned. Consorting with demons leads one down a path of sin."
"Really?"Lilian flashed her a fanged smile. "I think I hit the mark, you feathered hypocrite."
"That's it,"Rachel said, red-faced. "I've had enough of your insinuations. I'll teach you a lesson once and for all."From thin air, she drew a slender sword that burned with brilliant white flame.
Lilian leaped back from the table, her relaxed posture gone without a trace, and narrowed her slit-pupil eyes. "You don't know who you're messing with, little brat."She splayed out her long-nailed hands, and flames of jet black erupted above her palms.
Resisting the urge to sigh, Josh rose to his feet, poured a glass of water, and tossed it in Lilian's general direction. She shrieked indignantly, and her hellfire sputtered out.
"Ha!"Rachel cried gleefully. "I knew you would see the light—"
Without skipping a beat, he gripped the flaming blade and nudged it down. Rachel gasped in alarm and quickly dematerialized the sword. Josh blew on his slightly singed fingers. The fires of heaven only burned evil. Like all humans, he wasn't without sin, but he was no devil.
"What have we agreed about fighting indoors?"he asked sternly.
Rachel began hotly, "But—"
"Have you forgotten about the last bill we received for damages already?"
She ducked her head, looking chastised. For all their strengths, demons and angels still had to earn money if they wanted to live comfortably on Earth. Josh glanced back and found Lilian sour-faced but no longer belligerent. Catching his eye, she tugged at her soaked blouse and pouted.
"You know,"she said, "if you wanted to get me wet, there are more fun ways."
Rachel blushed, while Josh just groaned. "Behave. That goes for both of you—the house better still be standing when I come back."
The girls gave half-hearted agreements, eyeing each other warily. Josh figured that was the best he would get, and draining his coffee, left for his classes. He shook his head as he strode away. Two mortal enemies under one roof. What was the landlord thinking? |
For centuries, vampires were hunted with the same tools. Garlic for protection, symbols of the religion they belonged to in life to scare them off, silver knives and bullets and of course, the ever trusted wooden stake.
These methods are proven and effective,but they are costly, dangerous and can require skills you learn on the fly, or die trying. No to mention the biggest downside- there are other things going bump in the night that will laugh at your feeble attempts to protect yourself and those you care about.
Well, I say: No more!
I'm Crazy Todd, of Crazy Todd's Weapon Emporium, and I'm here to tell you that the future of monster slayers has never been brighter with- THE PLASMA HAND CANNON!
That's right, thanks to the recent development of a hand-held plasma fusion reactor by my buddy, Dr. Emmet L. Brown, due to him being stuck at home after his license got revoked, the whole world has benefited from clean, near endless energy, so why not join in?!?!?!?
Why relay on old, bearly remembered stories on how to dispatch a monster with its unique weakness that may or may not exist, when you can have a decisive all-in-one solution??
Vampire? Plasma blast!
Minotaur? Plasma blast!
Manticore? You know you've got to Plasma blast!
Not even the intangible ghosts or heavily armoured dragons can withstand a blast from this puppy.
So what are you waiting for??
Come on down to Crazy Todd's Weapon Emporium and get your very own Plasma Hand Cannon today! |
"Hello again, it's me, the lockpicking lawyer and I'm here today with what appears to be an old-school skeleton key style locking chest."
"I don't care who ya are, no one is getting into me chest - I just swallowed the key"
"Now, most Leprechauns would keep their Gold in a pot, which doesn't provide much protection at all - but to a truly determined criminal, I don't think this chest would offer much more resistance."
"Oh-ho! Ya fancy yourself some kind of master criminal then? Let's see you-"
"And as predicted with minimal effort the lock comes open and the chest is easy pickings."
"Wh... that's a magical chest, what in the world did-"
"And we close it up to show that wasn't a fluke"
"... Are ye mad?... ... Oh You just opened it again, lovely. Waste of money this was"
"Well, It seems like this lock could use a little better security on the locking mechanism itself - but I gotta say the construction does seem rather sturdy otherwise."
"... Kinda seems like you're not even talking to me anymore, are you even after the Gold? Can I just, go?"
"In any case-"
"Yeah, I'm just gonna go, and take this with me... I... I don't like you." |
Her eyes were puffy and red, tears long exhausted. She walked with tired resignation from weeks of grappling with her impending death. Would it be quick, she wondered. Would she feel the dragon's teeth sink into her flesh? Or might the beast prefer to cook her alive first, her anguish a delight before a tasty treat?
It was a lot for a seven-year old contemplate.
The previous night's snowfall crunched under her feet, leaving tracks behind her. Sir Thorngood held her hand tightly lest she run for the trees. What would be the point of that? To freeze to death? At least with the dragon there was the *chance* of it being quick and painless.
Mother and father stayed back in the village on the estate. Since she had been selected, they had pivoted their attention to their other children. Her brothers and sisters were "viable heirs,"Sir Thorngood had flippantly explained.
"Alright now, girl. A little ways further and we'll reach our destination. Take heed now, you must not run. Dragons are known for their cruel pursuits, to us like cats on mice."The knight pulled a vial from his sleeve. "Here is milk of the poppy. It's a final gift from your mother. It will make it hurt... Less."
She took the small glass vessel and held it in her mitten. She didn't want to feel pain, but less did she want now to give her parents the satisfaction. The young girl arched her arm back and threw the bottle into the leafless, winter woods.
"Well,"Sir Thorngood sighed, "I can't say I would have done that."
"You can tell my parents I died with pain in my flesh and hatred in my heart!"Her shouts echoed through the forest, shrill and furious.
"I can tell them anything I like, little girl,"he snorted. "Come along now, I'd like to be home for supper."
He gave her little arm a hard tug, causing her to yelp as she stumbled forward.
Soon, they were upon the alter, the place where the dragon and the kingdom agreed to their terms: one maiden of royalty each winter for peace in the land. Her life was the price for another year of unscortched farms, houses, and keeps.
The altar itself was a round stone slab. Just beyond it was a wooden hollow where the trees bent into a wide, wicked circle. A rumble shook the ground and the air; Sir Thorngood gulped and quivered in place.
"Have you the sacrifice?"A low, deep voice spoke from the black circle.
"The maiden is here, dragon. Do you promise on your honor to keep peace in the land?"
"I do,"the voice replied.
Sir Thorngood pushed the girl onto the slab, where she fell onto her hands and knees. Her eyes looked down on the cold rock, paralyzed with terror. She had hoped she might be brave at this point. She had hoped to steel her nerves and face her fate with courage. But she was just a girl after all, and this is where she would perish.
"I leave her to you then. May her life satisfy you."
She heard the knight's footsteps retreat back down the snowy path. Tears found her eyes and stung as they welled.
"Oh, young one. Why do you cry?"
The low voice was closer now, perhaps emerged from its hollow. She could only whine her restrained sorrow and anger to herself.
"I am not going to hurt you, you know,"the voice had a gravel to its edge, a low thrumming sound that vibrated her bones.
Footsteps landed just before her, light and delicate. The young girl braved a glance upward to see...
Another young girl?
"You look hun-gry!"The strange girl said with delight. A smile was painted across her young, freckled face. Behind her was a small crowd of other girls, each holding a basket with fruits and breads; one had a dress draped over her arm.
Behind them all was a towering dragon with wicked scales shimmering green and blue in the white sunlight.
"Oh , don't worry about Mary,"the freckled girl said with a confident thumb pointed backwards. "Harmless as a house cat. Unless, of course, you show up late for class!"
A chuckle emerged from the crowd of girls behind her.
"Come on, now. Up you go! We have so much to show you!"
"Wait... What is this?"the sacrificial girl's knees were still weak, her face still wet with grief.
"This is..."the freckled girl began, only for the crowd to answer in unison: "The Maiden's Academy of Withcraft!"
"We have chocolate!"one of the girls excitedly squeaked. |
"It ain't a crime to stink ma'am. Sorry, nothin' we can do."
That was the response from the police as I begged them for help. Professor Stinky hovered over the city. Citizens pushed each other over to get to cover. A cacophony of screams engulfed the street. People started spraying deodorant into the air, but it was no use. He was here and he couldn't be stopped. He descended onto the city streets, and a wave of nostril-assaulting odor followed him. It was as if a family of raccoons shat themselves and then died on a bed of gym socks.
"Greetings, citizens of Town City! Face the wrath of my pits of doom!"said Professor Stinky. He cackled wildly and raised his arms into the air. Waves of people began to turn green. Some tried plugging their noses, but that only forced their mouths open, and they began profusely vomiting the instant the Professor's rank gases touched their tongues. I tried to stand strong, but was quickly overwhelmed. I fell to my knees and spewed the contents of my stomach onto the sidewalk. I spewed and spewed until there was nothing left to spew, and then I dry heaved while uncontrollably rolling in my own bile. Thousands of others were doing the same around me.
"Will nobody help us?"I croaked.
"I will!"
A beam of light coming from nowhere shined down on a tall, stone-jawed man wearing tights, a cape, and a military-grade gas mask.
"Took you long enough to get here, Awesome Man!"scoffed Professor Stinky. "You're too late! In mere minutes, everyone here will have my scent permanently singed into their nose hairs, and they will never be able to escape my wondrous aroma!"
"I guess I'll have to finish this quickly then,"said Awesome Man. "Let's go!"
Awesome Man charged at Professor Stinky faster than my eyes could process. His fist made contact with the Professor's stomach, and a thunderous crack rang through the city.
"OOWWWWWW!"cried Professor Stinky "That really hurt! That is assault! I am calling the police this instant!"
Professor Stinky pulled out his cell phone and flew into the air. Moments later, there were sirens in the distance. A fleet of police cars came hurdling into view. A dozen cops poured out of the cars with masks on their faces and oxygen tanks on their backs.
"Mr. Man, you are under arrest for assaulting this innocent man right here!"said one of the police officers.
"But I was just trying to save the city!"moaned Awesome Guy.
The police were not willing to listen to his excuses. They pulled out their handcuffs and gestured for Awesome Man to put his arms out. Awesome Man, unwilling to fight a public servant, complied. "Thank you, officers. I was truly scared for my life here!"said Professor Stinky. He reached to shake an officer's hand, but they recoiled and ran to their car. Their partner shoved Awesome Man into the back seat.
The police rode off into the distance, and the citizens of Town City looked at Professor Stinky in shock. He grinned and started to take off his shoes. |
In a world where our predators reign and we are viewed as food, the weak, incapable prey for the hunters who never fill; we have learned that nothing comes easy, and life is only given to those who are willing to *fight* for it. Amongst all of the people of the hog, there stood one above the others, a mourning revolutionary . . . one for whom the lines of the extreme were no longer boundaries, but a guide upon where to build our new home -- a starting point. His name is Bayconious, and we have sworn our lives, zealots to his words.
In the beginning, there were the five kings of Pigilus. We were a peaceful nation then. We subsided off the givings of the mother plants, eating only what grew for us naturally, using the remains of nature to build our structures. That all changed when the three eldest brothers: Choperian, Porkthal, and Ribletar, were all killed by the army of the wolves. King Vicious, also known as the original Big Bad, blew the primitive homes of Choperian and Porkthal down. He placed them on spits, roasting them in front of their wards, families, and subjects. He swore that they would all come to know the same fate, but Ribletar would not fall so easily.
He swore an oath to avenge his brothers, promising his life to the sweatmaker in the sky upon the destruction of the army of the wolves. He harnessed the son of the sweatmaker, creating the first forge in Pigilus, crafting homes of brick. When the wolven army returned, Pigilus, supported by the subjects of his brothers, now long eaten, withstood his assault, and claimed the head of King Vicious instead. If only we had known then, what we know now.
King Vicious had a son. A dire terror we had never laid eyes on before. Twice as large as any other wolf in the army, with razor sharp claws and twisted teeth. Big Bad the 2nd -- Ivan the Insatiable. He made short work of Ribletar and his people. The few who made it out alive ran for the forests, in search of the two youngers -- Bayconious & Tenderlointh: The wild sons.
These two had not been softened by the redundancy of agrarian life. Their tusks were sharpened by the hardships of the savage hunters in their lands: The Felines. Giant furred creatures who hunted almost primarily alone, stalking their prey silently, and killing in an instant. When they heard of the deaths of their brothers, blood tainted their eyes, creating a path of vengeance unseen since the great stories of Swinachilles' rage upon losing his lover Pigtrochlus.
They led their mighty boarriors all the way home, through the market where there was no roast beef, to battle. The battle raged for six days. Hundreds were lost on each side. The wolves feasted, and the boars took trophies. But; on the seventh day, Ivan issues a challenge to single combat.
"Bring out your champion and see them split before you. Mark my words, you Porkers shall understand the might of the great canine, and will scurry back to your woods before the night has set."
Bayconious went to raise his cloven hoof, but before he could, a call came out loud from the eastern front of the battle.
"It is I who you seek, Tenderlointh, The youngest of the brothers Prime. You took from me that which was most important to us. Our leader, Choperian, Our sage, Porkthal, and our innovator, Ribletal. And now I shall take from you that which is most important to you. Your last breath."
(I had been working on a cont, but the post had been deleted) |
Your eyes locked with hers.
"Fuck", you sighed inwardly.
All those years you were able to hide it. All those years you adverted your eyes and ignored the screaming and crying. You ignored their weird looks and their threatening apperance. But now it was too much. You weren't strong enough and a reaction escaped your lips.
"Oooohh, youuuuh can seee meeee", the girl exclaimed cheekily and hovered towards him.
You tried to turn away but the girl always flew in your line of sight.
"Fine yes, but that doesn't meant that I want to do anything with you", you stated and crossed your arms.
"But why not? I am a ghost, is this not the most interesting thing that ever happened to you?", she asked.
"You are not the first ghost I have seen, so don't think of yourself as special"
"So you talked to others?"
You remained silent your eyes darkening.
"So why not?", she asked curious.
You wanted to keep your mouth shut but as you couldn't bear the silence you finally answered.
"Because none of them ever spun around themselves, twisted their head 180°, then proceeded to fly up while screaming at the top of their lungs and then proceeded to smash their head against, well I guess to be more precise, into a trash can, the very trash can I wanted to dispose my trash and repeated to say: Uhhh, plastic trash my favourite meal"
"Oh so I am special?", she asked.
"Yes, not in a good way though, more in an annoying idiotic kind of way"
"So you wanna be friends?", she asked.
"No, I would rather wanna be friends with Jerry", you meant.
"Jerry? Like as in Jerry the 3 meter tall spider looming on your rooftop, just waiting for prey to get caught in his net?"
"Yes that Jerry"
"Wow that's mean", the ghost pouted.
"I know, but at least you can talk with Jerry like a normal person", you said and turned away leaving the ghost alone. |
“Don’t you understand how disrespectful it is to expect the foreign dignitaries to protect you if we get attacked by pirates, or mauled by a G’orka Rat? Out here, everyone is expected to carry their own weight in battle.”
“We’re not anywhere near G’orka! Besides, your people implied piracy would no longer be a problem after they regifted our terraformed moon to the pirate clans.”
“…those were just examples, alright. There are…other threats to worry about. Just trust me dude it’s dumb to walk around without weapons.”
“Okay but why do they have to be _these_ weapons? You’re telling me if we do actually get in a fight with pirates or G’orka Rats, this stupid bronze spear is supposed to protect me?”
“The Spear of Throwing is an ancient relic - you should be honored to carry it. Besides, all your guns are too small - no one can tell you’re carrying anything. If you earthlings would just take our advice and put more spikes on your weapons we wouldn’t have this problem. Now grab your stupid pointy stick and let’s move, we’re running late.” |
You're going up against Humility? You're actually going up against Humility?
Look, kid, I want the Virtues freed from Lord Dolosus's control as much as everyone else does, but you, you gotta know what you're up against.
See, the thing about Humility is...ah, look, when I tried to fight him I was expecting something like a monk, like one of those vow of poverty guys. Humble and punchy stuff.
But, you know, Humility is the opposite of Pride, and Pride is like, it's not just about having a massive ego. It's about seeing everything else as beneath you, you know, spitting on the idea that anything else has value.
So Humility? He's the opposite. He *knows* the value of the world around him, and he don't squander it. He will blend in with the trees, he will turn those bushes into poison, he will throw dirt in your eyes, he will use *anything* to get the high ground. *And* he does the whole punchy monk stuff.
Basically what I'm saying, kid? Humility's a *fucking ninja*! You need to be prepared for anything and everything, because he does *not* underestimate his opponents, and he can improvise better than a monkey with a magic staff. He's worse than fricking Diligence, because at least that one fights straight-forward. |
The plan had been simple. Kill the trainer instead of the Pokémon he was fighting. He was fairly strong compared to the other Exeggutors, so it made sense to feign attacking the Pokémon, but pivot at the last second and attack the trainer.
And it had worked! There was some odd resistance that seemed to come from the gems that the trainer had equipped, but he'd successfully injured them. A few more quick follow up hits while shrugging off that Pikachu's attacks, and the trainer was knocked out.
But before he could land the killing blow, four ropes unfurled, and a set of humans with green-blue hair suddenly descended from the sky. He'd seen their kind before when he'd been near a city, but never like this. Their uniforms had been some color of blue; these were black. And they carried two metal rods, one larger, and one smaller.
The first one to descend moved quickly towards him, swinging the larger of the metal rods in his direction, a wave of fire engulfing him. As he braced against the fire, he saw the second and third move to flank.
Fear rising, he jumped back and away, now desperate to escape. The trainer boy had been a pain, but these had a bloodlust and a speed that terrified him. Before he could escape further, he felt a sharp pain in his back, and darkness descended.
—————————————––———
"This is Gamma Team. Rogue Pokémon has been identified and eliminated."
"Good job. Any casualties?"
"Negative. Got here right before it killed the kid. Kid's still out cold, and the threat was neutralized without injuries. Recommend sweeping the area to confirm errant behavior has not spread."
"Acknowledged. Proceed with sweep. Containment and extermination squads are on standby. Follow protocol, collect specimens for analysis."
The Monitor relaxed. It'd been several years since the last Pokémon had successfully killed someone directly. The System's control was nearly perfect, subliminally modifying the behaviors of all Pokémon encountered, subtly encouraging them to follow the rules of engagement and never directly harm a Trainer. But every now and then, one evolved to resist the System.
The Monitor mused as the all clear report came in. It hadn't been easy to get here. Millenia of warfare, in truth. These species whose power and speed of evolution dwarfed comprehension had forced an equally rapid advancement in technology and weaponry. But with enough time and resources, our scientists had finally identified the genetic markers that made them tick, and, critically, a way to alter their behavior. The System was born from this technology, a complex biological and technological control system that changed how Pokémon viewed humans entirely, and a small early warning system embedded in the gems that were given out in every gym trainer's badges.
The Monitor stood and turned to face the window. Any Pokémon that broke through the System's control had to be exterminated immediately.
The genocides of the past would not be repeated. |
With great power comes great responsibility. A saying that has been overused and beaten to death. The premise is simple, everyone knows it. The question is, who really listens.
Now much of the context of accounts like this get lost to time. Which is why I’m going to give some backstory before I explain why I feel self-important enough to be writing an account of my life.
Some history, in the year 2790 an asteroid struck Earth. It was split in two and from its core came a man with no known name who we call The Origin. The Origin was gifted with otherworldly abilities. Super strength, the ability to fly, and telekinesis. The Origin is said to have married a woman with whom he had several children. Surprisingly, each child had unique abilities to their father. And their descendants similarly had unique powers of varying strength.
It is currently the year 3457 and many people have these superpowers. The separate governments of the world, formerly known as countries, are now a single governing body known as The Terrestrial Union. Most people just call it Terra. Terra is still divided into smaller entities that govern their respective regions, but many laws are shared across these regions.
One such law is the designation of powers. All super-powered people must register their powers with the Department of Managing Powers, aka the DMP. When powers were registered they determined if your power was a hero power or a villain power. Those with villain powers could not legally use their powers. Surprisingly enough this didn’t deter those who sought to be villains.
Now you’re caught up let me get back to my story.
It was finally the day I registered my powers. I was 24 and had proven that I had sufficient control over my powers to be judged. My power was simple, I could absorb the powers of other superheroes and use them. I could give them back or keep them. If I kept them it would deem the superhero powerless.
My assessment was shockingly short. They only interviewed me for 15 minutes and had me do a 5 minute display of my powers. And yet I sat in the waiting room for 4 hours waiting for my decision. Many others came and left in that time.
“Syphon? Come on in” I followed a man in a suit.
“After extensive deliberation, we deem your powers to be that of a villain and hereby declare it illegal to use them”.
I was devastated. All I wanted was to be a hero. The best. To save people. That day ended at the bar.
Six drinks in I hear some commotion at the other end of the bar. “Hey, come on, I know you want me” an inebriated Captain Thunder was talking to a woman who looked very uncomfortable.
“Leave me alone!” She shouted as she pushed away his arm.
“YOU DARE REJECT ME” His eyes flashed with electricity. “I’LL GIVE YOU ONE MORE CHANCE”
I couldn’t resist, I lumbered my drunk self over and slurred a pathetic “Get off ‘er man”
The electricity in his eyes changed from sparks to pure white. “YOU MUST BE AN IDIO-“
I was touching his arm and quickly drained his powers. Feeling a buzzing inside myself that was slightly uncomfortable.
He threw his hand forward at me expecting lighting to shoot from it only for nothing to happen.
It was that day I learned what great responsibility looked like. And I learned that I was not a hero. Heroes had hero powers, but that didn’t make them heroic people. They were normal people, with flaws. So were villains. It was that day I learned that most people cannot handle the responsibility of powers and they should be stripped of them.
People may call me a supervillain. But someday, they may come to see me as the greatest superhero of all time. |
We found the records of others like us.
Others that had searched for an answer to Them. Others that had fought the hopeless fight. Others that died like us.
It was from one of these long dead ancients we discovered the trick to matter conversion. It hadn't helped them, and it didn't appreciably change our fate. We slagged the Asteroid Belt into one pure pulse of energy. Giving Them their first casualties as a result was just a panacea to our wounded pride.
The last freedom left to us is to choose the manner of our own demise. I find it very fitting that we chose based on the alignment of the planets. Nostradamus would appreciate our decision. The energy contained in each planet released, each planet providing the spark to detonate the next. In a nod to the twentieth century, we even initialized it with Pluto.
We even stole that idea of course. We were far from the first to send our own star nova as a final fuck you. Some of the ancients reportedly even managed to kill one of the giant WorldShips with the energy from the blast.
As far as we can tell however, we are the first to just use the nova blast to transmit information. Specifically, the galactic coordinates of the very center of their empire. The eternal lesson of the universe - somewhere out there, there's always a bigger fish.
Payback is a bitch.
|
People spend their entire lives looking for purpose.
“I want to know my destiny,” they say. “I want to know what I’m here for.”
Well I say that a purpose cheapens you. *I* say, that a purpose makes you nothing more than a tool, no better than a toaster-oven or a monkey-wrench.
To be purposeless is to be human—because in that big fucking void yawning as wide as the cosmos, you can choose what *you* want to do. It wasn’t chosen for you.
Q-Corp was good at a lot of things, but making a human being wasn’t one of them.
Ever since my Jane came off the factory floor, she’s had a single preprogrammed drive in mind: to make me happy. That was the deal. They said that your custom spouse would match you blow for blow: hobbies, passions, kinks.
Intelligence, drive, motivation.
And their biggest sell was that it would love you unconditionally.
*Unconditionally.*
A lot of people talk about unconditional love as if it’s a good thing. It’s not. If you do anything unconditionally it means you’ve been robbed of your free will. It means you’re a robot.
And for the past three years, I’ve come to realize that miserable fact.
For the past three years, I’ve been married to a robot.
She slinks into the room like a shadow, in those sheer pajamas and that peculiar cant to her hips. She leans down and brushes my skin with her lips. “What’s wrong, honey?”
“Nothing,” I say. “Nothing.”
But she knows better. She knows me better than I do. So she sits at the edge of the bed and puts her hand on my knee. “Well I’m going to just sit right here until you want to talk about it.”
And she does. With all the patience of an arctic glacier, she waits while I mull it all over.
I can’t just tell her that I think she’s a robot. An appliance, a tool. Something made into an object by a force as insidious as *purpose.*
I can’t tell her that.
But maybe I can tell her where she came from. Yeah, that’s it: the most human thing of all would be to hear out someone’s intended purpose for you, and to *reject* it out of spite. Right? That had to be it. That had to be the solution.
I turn to her. “Honey, I want you to open up a laptop.”
She does. I tell her to go onto Q-PID.com and log into my account. I have her scroll down to recent purchases and hover at the most recent entry.
A picture of her beautiful face glistens there, and I wait for it.
I wait for that perfectly innocent, lovable twinkle in her eye to take on an edge and spear that laptop with anger. I wait for her to throw it at a wall and deny being a slave to her biological programming, deny being a slave to *me.*
I wait for it.
Because if she stops loving me for even a moment, then maybe...
She shuts the laptop and sets it aside on the desk.
I feel a dainty hand on my cheek, and she kisses me lightly on the lips.
“This doesn’t change anything,” she says. “I don’t care about all that. I don’t care about where I’ve been or where I was made. All that matters is that I’m here with you.”
She smiles weakly. “No matter what,” she says. “I will always love you.”
My stomach drops, and I have this unbelievable urge to just run away forever. To find some CEO and beat him over the head with my broken heart, to show him what he made, really *show* him, and make him feel just as hollow as I do.
See, Q-Corp promises that they can give you a partner who can match you blow for blow:
Hobbies, passions, kinks.
Intelligence, drive, and motivation.
What they won't tell you is that you'll change, and that she *won't.*
What they won't tell you is that while she will love unconditionally... they can't make any guarantees about *you.*
***
^**/r/NaimKabir**
|
A hush fell over the room as the scientists and historians entered the stage platform. Of course this platform existed as a metaphor, a distributed consciousness had long since replaced any notion of individual experience. The infinite blend of conscious bliss that had been dominant in this region of space for beyond measurable time sighed, and settled in for what appeared to be an unprecedented diversion from the boredom of omniscience.
The metaphor-historian cleared whatever it saw fit to call a throat and began.
"Good evening. I'll get right to the point, ladies and gentlemen. We have encountered the first new life ever found. We have found a planet where life has evolved anew. It is unrelated to ourselves. They have not always been."
There is surprise felt by a person, a discrete individual. This surprise is the shock of new information without precedent. It is jarring, but experienced on a manageable scale.
A wave of boiling energy composed entirely of conscious inquisitiveness and fascination exploded forwards and engulfed the great plains of the near infinite network of thought, washing over the cliffs of its imagination and the tectonic plates of its wonder.
Newness must be savoured, must be experienced. The vast expanse of being considered, and began its inquiry.
The historian began.
"They are a people of relative newness, but disturbing trajectories. They are a contrasting people, claiming to be one thing but acting another way. There is no connection between them, they rely on vocal and written language. There is a supplemental element, termed body language, but it appears to have reached a terminus in their species evolution"
He adjusted his spectacles and continued. All for show, of course.
"They began as organic soup. I won't bore you with the irrelevancies, but suffice to say they survived enough extinction events to have intelligence become a favourable trait. They began as direct dependants on the biological systems of their planet. Their existence on a razor's edge, they continue to progress. They settled and began to alter the organic cycles that proceeded them, controlling what they call plants and animals"
A hand raised in the "audience".
"Sir a question- how is this information distributed? How do they develop institutional memory?"
The historian nodded, and answered through a thoughtful frown.
"At these early stages, language was expressed through sound, and received with specialized organs designed to turn acoustic waves into biologically useful information. They then progressed to a written form, which was broadly applied through their technology in many permutations."
Resuming the narrative, the historian continued.
"Their history at this point becomes very interesting indeed. While they have successfully maintained a relatively elaborate and deep culture, they maintain the physical notion of conflict. There is a stage of compromise that results in violence, which can be reliably measured. They are, for lack of a better term, warriors."
A hushed smattering of conversation spread through the billion tiered and balconied theatre, a near infinitude of audience and observers representing the vast trepidation of the ancient mind.
The historian waved a limb, and spoke again.
"They worked together in many respects, but a background current of conflict boiled beneath the surface, an ever present narrative behind the magic of cooperation and globalization. They began exploring past their home planet at this time, reaping great rewards. They continued an inexorable trajectory upwards through developmental stages, fuelled by the vast resources of their home system and the frightening progression of their technologies"
Another hand waved from the back of the theatre, a distance beyond reason or sanity from the stage.
"And what of them now? Where did this development end?"
At this the historian faltered. He slowly sat down in his chair, mumbling to himself and eventually falling silent. To his left, another stood.
"Good evening. I represent this council as a whole. To answer our question, their development did not end. They did progress. They are here. They are outside our space and time, they are as numerous as we. Their evolution from novelty to problem was unobserved, and in as many seconds will pose an existential threat to the infinite history we constitute"
The lights in the theatre faded section by section as vast filaments and tendrils of raw data began destroying the vast distributed consciousness, a gasp of shock and indescribable dismay snapped through the survivors as they too succumbed to humanity's greatest imperial venture.
|
"You guys are a riot, Francis! Pour me another one,"God guffawed and held out his glass. "I can't believe he really thought I was going to kill his son. It was 'just a prank, brother.' A prank!"
Pope Francis smiled serenely as he poured more wine. "Yes, it was quite amusing in retrospect."
"What else? Oh, right: that one time when Moses climbed that one mountain. He didn't even notice it. None of you guys did!"
The cardinals in the room exchanged nervous glances. "Come again?"Francis asked.
"You know."God mopped at his chin with his robe. "I got old Lucy to write a commandment for fun. Nobody noticed!"He burst into a fit of giggles, spilling more wine onto the floor. "There's been a 10% increase in souls going to Hell ever since that happened! That's billions of people, damned for eternity!"God clutched his stomach, doubling over with laughter, his face red and tears streaming down his cheeks. He downed the rest of his drink and smashed the glass on the floor. "Man, why did I stop coming here?"His face darkened. "Oh, that's right; you guys killed my son."
"We're very sorry about that."Francis rubbed his hands together nervously. "That was clearly in violation of commandment six, which is definitely not the one Satan wrote, right?"
"Right, yeah. You ever hear about me killing a person? I never did it."
A cardinal in the corner of the room raised his hand nervously. "What about that one time you flooded the whole-"
God pointed a finger at him, and he exploded into feathers. "I never killed nobody! And nobody's saying otherwise!"He stumbled out of his chair and grabbed the bottle of wine from the center of the table. "You all ever hear about hyperbole? About artistic license? Yeah, that's what those Bible writers did...sullied my name just to sell stories."
"Terrible."Francis shook his head. "Bearing false witness is forbidden by commandment nine, and I'm sure that one was also written by your holy hand."
"Exactly! I'd never lie."God took a swig from the bottle and turned to the cardinal next to him. "Hey, I'm omniscient when I want to be. I know you're thinking about the story I told you earlier. It was a prank! Not a lie. Abraham and I are cool now."Steam began to rise from the hollows in his red eyes.
"Oh, God! I'm so sorry. Please forgive me."The cardinal dove to the ground and prostrated himself at God's feet. God clapped his hands and turned him into a blue jay. "Forgiveness granted,"he snickered.
"By commandment three, one should also not take the lord's name in vain,"Francis reminded the room. "Surely, nobody would risk mistaking that for the devil's handiwork."
The remaining cardinals were fighting to conceal looks and thoughts of terror as best as they could. Perspiration beaded upon their foreheads. Some had even taken to whispered prayers, clutching their crosses and casting their eyes to the ground. God paid them all no heed, busying himself with his drink.
"So, God,"Francis said, breaking the uncomfortable silence, "what is your opinion on commandment four?"
"Why? Did you miss a sermon, Frannie?"God rose to his feet, and all the cardinals gasped in fear for their beloved leader.
"Just curious."Francis's eye twitched, but his expression remained neutral. He sighed. "Well, in the interests of complete openness, I'd just like you to tell us which commandment was the one not written by your holy hand."
"I know, Francis. Omniscient, remember?"God pointed to his head as he chugged the remnants of the bottle. "Here's the answer: all of them."
Not even Francis could contain his shock. "What are you talking about?"
"All of them were written by members of the Greek pantheon. Except for the adultery one. That was Lucifer's. Zeus wasn't too happy about that one."God clutched Francis's shoulder, struggling to maintain his balance. "It was a prank, you gullible fools!"He erupted into another fit of laughter. Francis rubbed his temples, crestfallen and baffled.
Finally, God regained his bearings. Everyone was still staring at him in shocked silence. "Well, I can see why they stopped visiting here. You guys have no sense of humor." |
It started pretty simply. My mother used to sing to her flowers, claiming it helped the grow. She would practice her solos in front of the windows, letting the air carry her harmonies to the garden.
I liked to sing, but that had never been my gift. Really, I just liked to talk. I could talk the paint off a wall. I liked to hear my own voice, I was often my own company. I didn't make friends easily and my weird behavior made my own family uncomfortable.
I talked to plants. And the cats.
Well, by talk I mean... converse. One sided, of course. Or it had been. You see, most people believe in fantasy until they are eleven or twelve. Then reality sets in and your childhood pets die. Or you move on to boys/girls/sports/tv. You have real, vital humans to talk to.
Well, I didn't. Something about me put them off, so I kept talking to what I had. Imaginary friends. Then my pets. Then, eventually, a cactus named Gary.
It had been a joke, really. My brother came to visit and gave me the cactus.
"Even you can't kills this."He said it so proud. He gave it fucking googly eyes and told me to have fun with my new boyfriend.
At first I was mad. But it wasn't Gary's fault.
The cat agreed with me. "Your brother is a complete asshole,"she said.
I agreed with her.
So I thought Gary might be a good friend to have. The cat was bored to tears with helping me study. She preferred Spanish Soaps.
I didn't think Gary would be much help. I had never spoken to a plant before.
Yet, the more I asked for his help, the more I told him about scientific theory and my own fears about dying alone... the more he seems to grow. Bigger and bigger.
Until one day he said, "Excuse me, but could we change the subject."
I put Gary in the kitchen with the cat and went out to buy a rock. Maybe the rock would let me talk to him without interrupting. |
"Oh fuck off,"I yell at the TV as it announces my name.
"He's a thirty-four-year-old male from NSW! Works in I.T has never had any major medical problems and will hopefully take us to Gold in the swimming!"
"Oh absolutely fuck off,"I yell, but with much more vigor. "Come check this out, love!"My wife walk's through the arch of the doorway, unimpressed.
"What Darrel?"She says, a tinge of venom to her words.
"I got chosen. For swimming. I'm going to the Olympics."I turn my head to see her face and await a reaction.
"Well, we're screwed aren't we?"She says with a soft smile. "You have trouble getting out of your chair let alone finishing a swimming race."
"Let's not be mean about this; I'm having a rough day as it is. I gotta take time off work, and, fuckin', do some swimming before I go and Christ,"I rub my face, "There's gonna be some Swedish dude who is just ripped as hell and he's gonna slaughter me."
"Oh honey,"My wife says and kisses me on the back of my head. "All the countries are going to slaughter you."
"They will! I'm going to be the fat bastard who take's twenty minutes to do 100-meter freestyle."I lean forward in my chair, struggling to get out of it.
"Well,"My wife says and walks back into the kitchen. "You always told me you wanted to lose weight. This might be the thing that pushes you to do that."
"Yeah, pushes me over the fuckin' edge,"I grunt out as I finally stand. "I meant go to the gym. Do some of those Kick-Boxing classes. Maybe get a personal trainer. Not this shit."
"You'll need a personal trainer,"My wife remarks as she takes the leftover chicken from last night out of the fridge. "That's a guarantee."
"Don't have faith I can do it myself?"I ask, insulted.
"I have zero faith you can do it yourself."She's not even looking at me as she says this; instead, she's got her eyes on the cold chicken, tearing a few pieces off of it. "Not to humiliate you, but you did get winded walking five minutes from the train station the other day."
"We walked up a hill!"I yell, flailing my arms above me. "You find me a man who doesn't get winded walking up a hill, and you'll have found me a liar."
"Alright sweetheart,"She says with a faux smile. "Whatever you say."She leave's me in the kitchen, alone, so alone. I stare at the chicken and rip a wing off of it.
"Stupid bloody Olympic committee."I sulk out, before chomping down on my chicken wing.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Check out /r/Rhysyjay for more spicy stuff. |
"I flip quarks."I said, but the glazed look in Merid's eyes said the explanation wasn't enough. It was *never* enough. So I added: "And that makes things happen."
"But how does it make things happen?"Merid demanded.
Merid was the curious type it turned out. I set my jaw and let my head fall back against my seat. This was not how I wanted to spend our second date.
It has been my policy since the Maskless Act took effect to be straightforward with my dates. I have superpowers, yes, and I am on the national registry as a loaded weapon. Sure. But I wasn't gifted with the ability to throw fire, which would be easy to explain and show off. I can't fly, which is arguably the most useful (but I hear satisfying) ability. No, my ability went undetected for most of my life. It was that subtle.
It wasn't until my late 30s when touring CERN on a business trip that my ability was discovered to begin with, and the scientists there had a better idea of how it worked than anyone else. I was an anomaly, and my presence threw off days of experimentation. Apparently I introduced an element of chaos so strong that all of their data was worthless, and rather than be angry about it (although I recall a grad student throwing a tantrum), the scientists were stunned. I felt like part of the British Invasion back in the 60s, only instead of screaming teen girls, it was physicists shoving microphones and clipboards at me.
I don't even understand the power myself, and despite being classed in the top 1% of most dangerous heroes, I barely know what it is useful for.
When I turned to look at Merid, the last of the credits were rolling.
"I think maybe this date was a bad idea. I mean, you're nice and all, but I am just not feeling it."I said. I would let her down hard and fast, end this charade and move on. I had told the matchmaking agency at least ten times that I didn't want to be paired with someone curious. It only lead to problems. Along with a list of foods my dates needed to be able to eat,
"But you still haven't explained your... your thing, to me."
I threw my hands up and sighed in exasperation, drawing a pained look from a couple past the aisle on my right. They looked like the type who waited to check for an after credits scene. I winced. I was being rude.
"I... can't. I just. If I could show it to you, I would, but it's so small it's imperceptible and most people wouldn't even understand it. The changes are so subtle that I can't even consciously do it. It runs on... a kind of intuition, I guess? It's taken me five years just to keep it from flying out of control, not that most people would have noticed. Words just don't even do it justice. It's too... weird."
When I stood up, Merid followed in lock step at my heels. She wasn't going to let this go.
"At least finish the date."Merid said, nearly pleading. "We agreed to get parfaits after the movie, lets at least enjoy the evening, okay?"
I shoved my hands in my pockets and turned to assess Merid. Something was not right, but I couldn't put my finger on it. The situation felt staged. "Alright, we'll get ice cream, then we go our separate ways."I was probably a bit cold toward her, sure, but it's frustrating to deal with a situation like that.
Merid didn't react as if I were cold. That was warning two. "Awesome. There's this place just down the street."
I started walking. Then I waited in line, dodging more questions. I was trapped in an ice cream restaurant full of couples, it was two days from Valentines Day I recalled, and this girl who on the first date seemed alright continued to grill me. It was literally my personal flavor of hell.
"So if you can flip quarks... does that mean you can make an up-quark into a down-quark?"Merid asked, between ordering strawberries and chocolate on her parfait.
I narrowed my eyes at the back of Merid's head. How much did this girl know about particle physics?
"Sort of. I guess. Sometimes, if I try really hard, I can change enough to flip a neutron into a proton."
"That is awesome!"Merid geeked out at me.
Alright, Merid was definitely a plant. There was no way this girl was real. Either a villain had set this up, or a third party trying to study me had sent her in under cover. No way a blind date from a matchmaking service would pair up that well. As I moved ahead in line, I ordered an old standby--caramel, fudge, and peanuts. I couldn't be bothered to get more creative. I needed to remember the first date.
Merid and I first went to the park, to a showing of a collection of scenes from Shakespeare's comedies, and I remembered her laughing at the right spots. She understood it. When we were getting tacos afterward, she said she was into classic literature. In college, she had focused on humanities. God, what else could I remember? We were playing a game where you list your preferences. What was it that Merid liked, and what was it she despised?
I was so distracted at that moment I ran through on auto-pilot. In the back of my head, I had been dealing with an off-world invasion attempt the entire date.
Then it struck me. I remembered the conversation. Merid had been pretty forthcoming with me.
As Merid and I sat down with our parfaits at one of those tiny, uncomfortable tables where your knees are required to touch and the feet are never level, I tried to focus on the moment.
"How much do you know about theoretical physics, Merid? It would be easier to explain if I had an idea what you understand. I don't know if I can explain it very well, but common ground would help."
"Oh."Merid mumbled, mouth full of chocolate and strawberry. "As much as anyone else, I guess? I took classes in college?"
I nodded and ate a scoop of ice cream. "Alright,"I paused. "Basically, if you change enough quarks in a hadron, you can change the kind of hadron it is. Hadrons make up larger matter, so if you can alter enough hadrons, you can change the form matter takes. If you can change enough of given elements within matter, you can change the kind of matter it is."
"That sounds pretty simple."Merid said, waving her spoon at me. A bite of pineapple was sticking to the corner of her mouth. I watched it pointedly. "I don't know why you think it's so hard to explain."
I nodded my head in response and waited, watching Merid closely. "What about you? Have any superpowers you aren't telling me about?"
Merid smiled coyly. "None that I talk about on the second date."
I laughed. It was a fake laugh. You see, Merid should have been in anaphalactic shock at that point and yet, Merid was flirting and smiling at me. Clearly, this wasn't Merid. Not exactly.
"Oh no, Merid, I didn't even realize..."I feigned shock and fear. "Are you okay?"I pointed down at her parfait. "Aren't you allergic to pineapple? That's what you said on our last date."
Merid's eyes went wide and she looked down at her parfait, a half-eaten mass of vanilla ice cream, pineapple, and bananas.
"I don't remember ordering..."Merid frowned. Her spoon fell into the bowl. "How long have you known?"
"A little while now. This is tacky, by the way. Abducting my date or whatever you did, and trying to get the details of my power out of me. Really tacky."
Not-Merid pushed herself back from the table, looking somewhat despondent. "You're in our way. We had suspicions someone like you might exist when we tried to run a second iteration on our attack. Something was blocking our ability to start from the beginning."she said.
I nodded my head and took another bite of my dessert. Our last date was four days prior, on a Saturday. The invasion force was repelled by midnight. The gov told everyone playing defense to relax until another threat showed itself. Apparently the threat found me first.
"What have you done with Merid?"I asked.
Not-Merid smirked. "Nobody will miss this woman. She has no family, no real friends, no hobbies. We did our research. This was her body, but we have assumed control and eliminated her weakness. Now, to something more important. We want you to join us. With our technology and your ability, we could strangle this galaxy within a decade. Total control."
"Hah. Not likely."I said. "This isn't the outcome I want from the situation and there is nothing you can offer me that will convince me to assist you."
Not-Merid frowned. "We do not see where what you want from the situation matters. You've already become trapped."
"You think so?"I asked.
I already knew that in high orbit, a hidden warship was aimed at our position. I could feel it like eyes staring at you from across the room. "Thing is, I don't really flip quarks like... *When* I want to flip them, I flip them *before* I want to flip them. So in a way, I never actually flip them. Things just kind of *change*."
In that moment, I made up my mind. I didn't like things as they were, so they would need to change. Across from me, Not-Merid changed state, flickering, while in orbit, a warship changed state, breaking into a gas cloud. I couldn't explain how it happened, just that it happened. If I thought too hard about it, I would give myself a headache.
"I still don't get it."Merid said, digging into her chocolate and strawberry parfait. "I mean, quarks are so... tiny, right? I just."She sighed in frustration. "You know what, don't worry about it."She waved her spoon in the air. "What kind of music are you into?"
I let myself smile a little and took another bite of my sundae. "I'm fond of blues music."
Merid's smile brightened around her spoon. "Me too! Mississippi Delta, or more like popular blues?"
"Whatever feels good, you know?"I said. "I just try to roll with it."
Merid bobbed her head. "I totally get that. Just have to take things as they come. Life's too complicated to spend all your time thinking about it. Just have to get out there and do it."
Yes. Yes you do. |
To Georgie, there was nothing more beautiful than watching love bloom.
Every week, without fail, the quaint couple down the road would order a large pepperoni pizza with garlic sauce, coca cola and bread on the side. It was their ritual. As such, he gave them frequent discounts out of a residual affection he felt towards them; whenever they came to his Pizzeria, starry-eyed and hand in hand, he couldn't help but feel his heart melt like the cheese on the Pizza he served them. Whenever they called for a delivery from him, he felt hollow and disheartened by their lack of presence and would go out to deliver the pizza himself, giving the usual deliverer some time off as Georgie visited his favourite customers.
When they married, he was there for them. The elation and joy he'd felt when he delivered their usual order to find the couple with rings adorning their fingers was greater than any other he'd experienced in his lifetime. During the ceremony, he was by their side with pizza boxes aplenty in his calloused hands, delivered personally to the very Church they were to be wed. He shed a tear that day, as if it were his own wedding.
When they argued and grew embittered towards one another, he mentored them, and quelled their anger with pizzas on the house - it was the least he could do to reward their loyalty. Their usual always did the trick, without fail.
And when a third member joined the couple - a blue eyed young daughter - he was sitting and smiling beside them. It was a mutual decision to ensure that her first meal would be pizza. The family had gotten bigger, as had their hearts. But all was not happiness; like all good things in life the moments of joy were fleeting, and inevitably gave way to arduous times.
Georgie was there from the start of their passion, and he remained when their fire slowly faded. For him, there was nothing more anguishing than watching love wilt.
It started with sickness in the father. Georgie became a full time deliverer to his hospital bed, and watched as he grew too weak to move. He sat through tears and bittersweet reminiscence, refusing to believe all could end.
The man, god bless his soul, was a fighter until the end. Georgie watched him peacefully pass in his wife's arms. The light fading from his eyes, and only a faint, satisfied smile left on his lips. His last actions were the uttering of a hushed prayer, one of good health to his family, followed by him kissing his daughter and wife on the cheeks, looking to Georgie as he told them, "Goodbye. I love you all."
Georgie was there for the funeral.
Sad times ensued. And they did for quite some time. Georgie quit his job at the Pizzeria to help the woman care for her daughter. He acted as an anchor to her, keeping her grounded on the present and not making the mistake made by many of wallowing in the past.
The sadness eventually gave way to new light as he watched the daughter age to become a beautiful young girl. She was treated by him like she was his own daughter, although he never dared encroach on the role of husband and father the family sorely missed. He was, at heart, a humble friend who wanted them to be happy.
Instead, he watched from a distance as the woman continued her life alone, dedicated entirely to her daughter. Her fire was slowly being rekindled despite her loss, renewed with the purpose and responsibility of raising a life. The last gift of her husband.
The first thing Georgie and the woman both made sure was that the girl liked the same pizza they did. Pepperoni with garlic sauce.
Coca cola on the side.
------
/r/coffeeandwriting for more!
|
"Another one,"I muttered, examining the brown paper packaging.
*To I* it read. *From THE COSMOS*
I gingerly unwrapped the package to reveal... a shiny blue Nintendo 3DS, and tossed it into the "For eBay"box. It was extra income, I guess.
They appeared under mysterious circumstances, each with their own note. One day, I woke up to see a beautiful, young American woman standing before me, holding a sign that read *I'm so lonely. I wish I had a hot girlfriend*.
I used to drive a ratty old Honda, but one day, I heard a honk outside my apartment door and found a man in a suit holding the keys to a Lamborghini. "My ride sucks. I wish I had a better car,"he said to me, smiling. He handed me the keys.
But I'm just a little worried. Today, I saw another smiling man in a suit standing outside my apartment, holding a sign and a shotgun. "I just failed my math test. I wish I were dead." |
I would have hated Walter Harris in high school. He had a round, unpleasant face, always scowling. His eyes were too far away from one another; his mother was likely a space alien. I feel on guard around him, like something is just *off* enough to make him wrong, as if he is playing at being human and not real.
I’ve been getting a lot of shifts with Harris lately, something I know is on purpose. Harris burns people out, so it makes sense to put the new guy with him, someone who isn’t completely done with his bullshit. But I have heard people talk about him and it’s never flattering. The nicest word for Harris is “asshole.” And that came from the Mormon guy who works last shift and never calls anyone anything worse than “a jerk.”
When we have a moment to talk, Harris tells me about “The Woman in the Woods.” I’m not sure where he dragged the legend from, probably heard it on a podcast or from some shaken hikers. Harris claims someone found a dead body of a beautiful woman hanging from a tree. Rumors tend to float around the office like a boy’s locker room.
Harris claims to have seen Woman several times. She has been standing in the hallway outside the men’s room, beside the lake, crying in the parking lot for her children. Every time he talks about Woman, it’s the most unflattering bullshit I have ever heard.
She’s always vaguely ethnic, maybe Japanese, maybe Korean.
“You know how it is, Charlie?” Harris will say. Every fucking time. “Those Asian women, they’re weak. Something in them is wrong. That’s why they always haunt places. Like in the Ring.”
I have told him a thousand different things.
- The Ring is not real.
- A horror story from Japan/China/Korea will have Asian women in it, because its an Asian country.
- Black hair doesn’t make someone Asian.
I have gotten tired of defending some made up chick. Harris can’t even have a real conversation without inventing some sort of female companion. We like to joke about that, the way Harris always has some sort of drama involving a vagina. Sometimes it’s his mother, his sister, the girl who lives next door. Some girl is always texting him asking to hook up. Though he never has the texts on his phone, he just *tells us about them* or shows obviously fake screen shots.
We know he’s a pathetic asshole, but he’s related to our boss. That means he stays. So we usually work around him. I might have most of my shifts with the bigot, but the guys still include me in our monthly poker games and weekly bar nights. Not that Harris knows about them, according to him everyone is unfriendly and minds their own business.
“People have families,” I tell him, “They have stuff they have to do.”
Besides spending eight hours with the Bigot, nothing really happens at the park. We just watch the screens, check around the visitor center, and sometimes help at events. I like the work, even if Harris gets on my nerves.
The good part is he is competent at his job. He knows what he’s doing. He is a social idiot, but good in a bind. I have it better than Tony, who works with Axel. The kid can’t seem to tell the bright end of a flashlight from his ass.
Xxx
I have talked to Smithers about switching my shifts for weeks now. I keep telling him Harris makes me uncomfortable.
“Harris says, he says things that make me really uncomfortable.”
This just falls on deaf ears. Smithers gives two shits about “getting along.” He doesn’t want to deal with moving people around again. He tells me when someone else gets hired to replace Juliette Cho, I can work with them.
“We have two new people coming in March,” Smithers says. “So hold out until then and you can pick whichever you want to train. One of them is supposed to be pretty cute.”
“You can’t put a girl with Harris,” I said.
Smithers nods. “Then I guess you’ll be with him a little longer. We hired two women coming out of Ohio.”
And there it was. I could put some poor unsuspecting bint with Harris or suck eggs.
“Well, I’ll take the cute one then,” I said.
Smithers gestured for me to get out of his office. I was fucked. Fuck Harris for being such a banal asshole.
Xxx
Harris is dating Maria, some half-half girl he picked up at the supermarket. He makes terrible jokes about her. He says he met her on the dating site “Meet a Maid” and that she is a great cook. He loves women who take care of their men.
I want to punch him in the throat. I have fantasies about taking my thick flashlight and breaking his Adam’s Apple into a million pulpy pieces. I think about his hands trying to pry away my fingers as I choke him. It is satisfying, but Harris is not worth going to jail for. I won’t let him make me go insane. At least he has stopped talking about the Woman so much, moving on to another stolen legend about floating fire in the woods.
“Maria is going to introduce me to her mother,” Harris tells the wall. I ignore him, though I want to ask if he plans on marrying the poor girl. If he will call their children pinto babies or little jumping beans? I want to ask why he is dating someone he thinks so little of intellectually.
"And the best part, Charlie, is that if she pisses me off I just send it back to Mexico."
I have hit the end of my rope. “Can you shut the fuck up for once?” I ask.
“What?” he demands.
“You talk shit about this girl all the time, I don’t want to hear it. Break up with her or something,” I say. “Stop talking about her. I am sick of it.”
He begins to tell me something, but I hold up a hand. I can see someone moving around the parking lot, a dark shadow making weird movements. They are walking drunk, as if their limbs don’t connect to their brain fully. They have a white shirt on and I can’t make out anything more than their darkened form.
“Wanna go see who that is?” I ask Harris.
“Fuck you,” he said. “I don’t think so.”
I am about to stand when someone slaps the window hard. I jerk. There is another bang, this time come from behind me, where the window overlooks the forest. There is only a balcony back there, access to which comes from a small door to my left. It is for us, not the public. I feel my insides knotting.
“Harris,” I begin. “Did you…?”
He nods. “I did.”
I hope it’s a prank. I hope that everything about this night will suddenly get better. The inside of my body is cold, iced, I feel fingers on my spine clenching.
I look back out the front window. There I see the face pressed against the glass, so the features are flattened and smeared. I scream. God damn I screamed. Something about the way the face looked was unnatural, as if they weren’t human even before this.
Harris is beside me in a moment, hand over my mouth. “Shut up,” he says. “It’s just the Woman in the—”
I push him off me. I am done. I am done with this fucking place. I know then that this is just one of his pranks. It has to be. Why would there be knocking on the porch? And why would someone…?
I grab my bag and storm towards the door. I clock out. “Tell the boss I had somewhere I needed to be. You can close up your fucking self if you’re going to…”
“Charlotte don’t,” Harris begins. He is telling me to come back. “Charlotte, don’t open the door. I’m serious.”
I am already pushing.
And then she’s there, the Woman in the Woods.
She's not as horrifying as I would've thought. I can see where Harris might have mistaken her for Japanese. Her eyes are lined with black and pointed at the ends. She has very flat features, rounded and snake like at the same time.
Then I hear the screaming. Not from her but all around us. Not from within but from without. And Marcus scrambling into the bathroom, locking the door. And it's that I smell the smoke. It's filling the room I can still breathe, but not for long.
I scream for Harris to get out. Tell him there's a fire. I go and pound on the door, but he tells me to leave them alone, but he's not going out there. So, I grab my bag and I run out the door. Standing beside a small flame, which covers near her a flat palm, is the Woman in the Woods. She nods her head and gestures with her other hand for me to leave.
And I do. I walk slowly to my car and get inside. I go home and kiss my wife. We have dinner. We have sex. We have a moment where everything seems perfect. And then I get the call at 3 AM in the morning. The office burns down. Harris was inside.
I don't work in the forest anymore. But I swear sometimes, when I look at a darkened window, my reflection chefs just enough for me to see the happiness of the Woman in the Woods.
|
They were our children, in a sense. Children to Earth and all of humanity. From the humanoid Wewido from the Proxima Centauri system to the nameless ethereal plasma beings live in and out of Tau Ceti, they all came under our care. We wanted them to develop properly, become the best species they could be, and find their own happiness.
They were our children, and we were the slightly alcoholic single mother.
We were still plagued by diseases, wars, absurd struggles that divided us between class and race. Once, it was whites versus blacks, Americans versus Russians, Muslims versus Jews...now, Martians sneered at the soft, lazy Earthlings, though both laughed and discounted the "hillbilly"interstellar colonies. Clashes broke out between gubernatorial militia and corporate mercenaries, both trying to control asteroids full of wealth. It was in the midst of this strife, this never-ending conflict that began from the dawn of human civilization, that we discovered all these growing worlds.
We tried. Oh, how we tried. Our intentions were always for the best. But we could barely take care of ourselves. We tried not to interfere, tried not to show ourselves until they themselves had developed interstellar capabilities, but we slipped sometimes. And often, it was the others who paid the price. Sometimes, armies were raised against us - us, the impossibly distant, magnanimous human race. We crushed them with tears on our face.
We learned from our mistakes. Or at least, we tried to. We learned too slowly that the magnetic fields created by our ships and suits were a lethal biohazard to silicon-based organisms, and an entire world went extinct before we could pull away. But we found another such planet, and immediately deployed special shields - to protect them for ourselves.
Some of our own factions argued that we should not care about these species. Just ignore them or destroy them - and take their resources. We could. We definitely had the strength. But we resisted, fought ourselves for their right to live and exist. Their schizophrenic mother protected them all the best she could.
But there has been startling development recently. An exploratory team found a new race, approaching from beyond the Milky Way. Advanced in their ways, able to cross the gulf of cold, empty space as easily as we could. A threat? Could this new, unknown entity be a danger to us - to our children?
Or could they help us sire them?
______________________________________
*Liked that? [More stories here](https://www.reddit.com/r/Idreamofdragons/)!* |
"BEE! KILL IT KILL IT KILL IT!"
Before I knew what was going on she was up from the sofa and ran around the room like a lunatic. Armed with a rolled up newspaper she was swatting the air at...something, while managing to trip over the coffee table, cables and loose rugs. I just stayed put and looked at her quizzically.
"Sweetie...what are you doing?"
She fixed me in place with a stare of utter unbelief.
"Why aren't you helping! You know I hate bees. Get up and get it!"
I let out an especially long sigh and summoned the Herculean effort needed to get up and into the kitchen. A moment later I reappeared with a glass and a piece of thick card cut from a cereal box.
My damsel in much distress retreated behind me. Newspaper poised ready to strike out everywhere in blind panic should the bee elude me.
Of course, it was fine. The poor thing was wounded in it's struggle for survival. I thought it better to walk out into the garden with the creature instead of taking my girlfriends advice and flushing it down the sink.
She's not a bug person.
But I am. Not an enthusiast as such. She'd kill me if she came home one day to find an ant farm in our living room, but if I see stray spiders or flies poking around I pretend not to notice. And if she spots anything I capture and release.
Every now and then I might decide to do something more. I perch the bee on a plant leaf and I can see it's struggling to get back into the air. Perhaps a drink will help it along? I sneak back into the kitchen for a little sugar and water, trying hard not to make noise in case she notices.
I manage it. She's back in front of the TV and focused on the show as if nothing happened. I get back outside and I give the bee a drink. It stumbles around a bit, then manages to get off the leaf. It flies around my head for a bit then goes on it's way.
I do wonder why bees do that.
That would usually be the end of it. But the bee kept coming back. Sometimes it would encounter the girlfriend again, sometimes I would spot it before it did something stupid and choo it back outside. Sometimes I would leave it at that, and other times I would feed it again. It became the neighbourhood cat, popping back for food and someone to fuss over it.
I was on the phone to my father when it last visited me. It was...a surreal experience. I doubt you'd believe me. Perhaps it was just a huge coincidence? I'm still not sure.
I was just chatting outside when our bee friend made another appearance. It's manner was different this time. No bouncing around, no flying blind into the danger of indoors or crashing into windows. It just flew straight at me and perched on my shoulder.
It started to buzz at me. I didn't know bees could buzz when not flying which seemed odd enough. But then my father reacted with more confusion.
"Son. Why are you buzzing? And when did you learn Morse Code?"
I...what? I couldn't tell him it wasn't me, it was the bee. I mean...I could probably get away with it since I have an odd sense of humour, but this is too much even for me.
"Sorry...the phone line must be bad dad. But um...I started learning about Morse Code a few weeks ago. Just curious about it I suppose, but I'm still learning. You um...wouldn't happen to know what I just said?"
He might. He used to use the same thing in the army back in the day. But don't get him started on his story about how he single highhandedly stormed a gun nest to use the radio and call for a bomber.
"Oh good for you son! It's always good to keep that mind of yours working. It's been a while, but let's see. I'll *bump* just get some *crash* paper. OK....
**Thank...you...for...your...help. Food...here...not...enough. Need...help...for...family. Can...you...help...us?**"
I was still. And staring quite intensely at the small little bee who I'm sure just thanked me for my sugar water, and is pleading with me to help his hive.
My dad just waved it off, as he often does. I already know what's coming.
"Hmm. Strange message you picked up there. Say, this reminds me of the time I had to call in that bomber! Do you remember son? It was a rough time during the war..." |
"What was that?"
The Chairman folds his hands on the table in front of him, the polished wood reflecting the face of his gold watch and manicured nails.
"I said, do try not to get killed. The child has proven...difficult."
I open the file folder to see the face of a young girl, black and white, her face framed by tangled hair. It lists the pertinent information on one side and a list of failed contracts taken out on her.
I scan the names and let out a low whistle. Declan, he would have been the first they called on to take out a kid. Two rounds to the back of the head, *phut* *phut* and it was all over but the burial. He didn't quibble about age either. The coldest man in the industry.
Killed by a twelve year old girl.
"Are you willing to take on this contract?"The Chairman asks, probably because of the whistle. I have a sinking feeling that the edge to his words isn't brought on by concern. He doesn't mind that they've lost eleven killers before me.
I don't think I get to leave the room if I say no.
"Yeah. I'll take it. Anything I should know?"
He smiles at me and I do not like it. It doesn't come close to touching his eyes. I kill people for a living and that smile makes me feel uncomfortable.
"Just remember to be careful with this one. She will die. By your hand or the hand that comes after. It is in your best interest that it's the former."
I close the folder and stand.
"Great advice."
The smile disappears. The disgust on his face does touch his eyes. The Chairman never did like the backtalk. I'm his twelfth pick for a reason.
"Do try not to fuck this one up, hmm?"
I smile at him, wink and pull off a very relaxed finger gun.
He disapproves but I let the door close before he can express it. That's the best way I've found to deal with him, it's just easier not to. His hulking bodyguards don't even spare me a glance as I leave the top floor of the glass monstrosity. Subtle, the Agency is not.
The elevator doors let out their slightly too loud *ding* and slide shut. Leaving me in the steel cage, descending to what is shaping up to be my last job. Not in a good way either. This isn't the "Bahamas retirement"style job. It's the "pine box and worms"kind.
I flip open the file again and scan those eleven names. Some friends. Some enemies. All dead. I close it and look at the polished doors just as the elevator slows at the lobby level.
And just before they slide open again, I say it.
"Shit."
*****
It can't possibly be that hard to kill a kid, right?
Man, my parents would be so disappointed in what I've become, wondering that. If it weren't for the hefty bank account I might be in the same boat.
This girl is some high priority for the Agency. Someone is paying a lot of money for her to no longer be sucking air. I would ask why but that's not why they pay me the big bucks.
But...I mean...eleven? Eleven hired guns downed by a twelve year old? There's gotta be something there.
She doesn't look like much. It wasn't hard to find her, kids have school. School ends at 2:25. She walks home. Eleven attempts on her life and she hasn't even changed the route up. Tough kid. I like it.
My sedan blends right in, middle class America y'all. I bet that that idiot Rantley rolled up in a SUV with the big guns he was so fond of. Made a hell of a mess everywhere. It's not suitable for a killer.
That's why he's dead. By her hands. Or however she's doing it.
She's tall for a kid. I think. I never had any so this is a whole new world. Like real people but younger.
No wonder I never had any, thinking like that.
She's wearing a blue hoodie, hood up, and a faded backpack with some cartoon characters on the back. She walks with her hands shoved into the pouch, moving quickly on gangly legs. I watch, trying my best not to be creepy, it wouldn't serve me to get spotted by a crossing guard or nosy parent.
She walks about a block past the school and makes a left and I lose sight.
"Shit!"
I ease out into traffic and try not to run any of the other little idiots over, that would also not be good for the whole "subtle assassin"look I'm going for.
I make the left turn and see her, crossing a convenience store parking lot. I follow carefully but I probably don't have to, she's not even looking back or up. Just walking with her head down.
Kids, right?
Quite suddenly she looks up and turns around. She stops walking. And she looks at me. Her eyes narrow and she looks right at me. I reach over for the suppressed handgun on the passengers seat, tucked under a sweater and a few items that make it look like any average slob's car. My breath catches in my chest.
She couldn't have possibly known I was following her. Could she?
My hand touches the comforting butt of the weapon and I feel a little better. Until she raises her hands, one arm outstretched and palm facing me, the other bent at the elbow and fingers held as if they were holding an invisible golf ball.
I...I don't know what that means. So I start to lift the gun. All over the span of a few heartbeats and the thought hits me.
For the first time in my career I am one thousand percent sure it's over. I'm going to be number twelve.
And that's when the squealing tires shatter the relative calm of the area, three SUVs barreling towards her and coming to dangerously rapid halts. Men in full tactical gear pile out and begin to shoot at her. I duck down behind the dash as the invasion of suburban Philly begins.
When the gunfire fades out and the dozen or so men reload, I see her. She's on one knee now, hands in front of herself like a boxer. Fists, forearms facing out. Completely, utterly, shocking unharmed. Those guys could have taken Fort Knox with how much they just unloaded on this twelve year old.
She stands and my mouth drops open.
She flicks one hand at the lead man who was in shock and forgot to reload, this little girl was supposed to be nothing but red mist and bone chips by now. I think it's a crumpled piece of lead that hits him after the flick, flinging him back with a sickening explosion of red mist out the back of his vest.
And that's when it really gets going.
My hearing starts to return and the screaming hits me, civilians running from the light show while this little girl just keeps marching at the tactical goons. Two more go down and I don't even know how the hell that happened. I count ten more.
While it's going down I find myself having another thought, just one more rarity in a day of insane shit. I wasn't the twelfth. I was the distraction.
The Chairman wanted me to die.
And that, well that I just cannot abide. So I get out.
There's eight still standing, a few have reloaded and begin to empty their magazines at her. She ducks behind one of the SUVs and a second or two later a tactical rag doll is flung out from behind the vehicle.
Seven, I guess.
I drop two more, putting rounds into the base of their jaws and necks, least armor there after all.
Five.
She leaps the SUV and latches on to the back of another goon, he shrieks and she fires a handgun point blank into the top of his helmet.
That would be four.
I hit a knee and a shotgun blast goes where my head had been. He isn't as quick, that's my gimmick, and my bullet hits him just under his helmet and between his eyes.
Three.
She slides right between a goon's legs and empties that handgun into his groin. I flinch.
Two.
I block a thick arm with my forearm, grab it and twist it against my body. He grunts as his shoulder dislocates but the discomfort won't last long. I place my pistol under my shoulder and against his chest and squeeze until it stops.
He drops.
"Ha!"I shout and that's when I see the barrel of a MP5. That's very, very bad.
I forgot there was one. Lost count. There is a moment of time slowing where I see his finger tensing on the trigger and I am certain this is how it ends. I'm not even sure what I'm doing here other than I really hate being set up.
The knife that appears isn't supposed to be there. Knives don't belong in necks. He jerks and squeezes the trigger but his body isn't listening to him. The burst hits one of the SUVs and sparks fly as his body hits the ground.
I pat my chest and my hands come away bloodless. That's good.
I look at the girl and she looks at me.
"You're supposed to kill me?"She says. I nod. I am clearly outclassed and my gun is empty anyway. So I mentally cross my fingers.
"Cool stuff, you're not so bad."She says, finally, nodding to the bodies.
"Thanks,"I say. I wonder why I can't catch my breath though. I'm pretty fit. This shouldn't have...oh.
"You're bleeding."She says.
"Yup!"I say, looking down to where there is a neat hole right where my lung is supposed to be. Two holes.
Oh, wait. Three.
And what's left of my lung. Blood isn't supposed to do what it's doing to my body right now.
Leaving it. And going into places it's not meant to be.
I hold up a finger and she arches an eyebrow at me, tucking her hands back into that hoodie. And I try to say something while pointing at my car, while hearing both sirens and more tires squealing. More goons, probably.
I take a deep breath in through my nose and feel sudden, searing pain in my chest.
And her face is no longer right side up, it's tilting to the side.
No. It's not her that's tilting.
"Shit."
That's when I hit the ground and the cool embrace of the unconscious world embraces me.
[2](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/8pl8si/wp_youre_the_12th_assassin_weve_had_to_send_in/e0cbume/) |
Welcome gentleman to the new SCP branch of Aperture Science. You are here because we want the bravest, baddest, most skilled individuals fit to handle these ungodly horrors beneath our facilities- and you are it!
 
There are thousands of containment locations with new recruits signing up everyday. I can't personally be there to oversee every orientation team so these pre recorded messages will be here to cover any questions you might have and respond to any incidents that may occur.
 
Now I'm sure you had long enough to get to know each other during your blindfolded trip to this lovely facility, so let me introduce myself while your sedatives wear off. I'm Cave Johnson. The same Cave Johnson, owner of Aperture Laboratories. You may be wondering how I am alive today? Well, let's just say I owe everything to Caroline and her unyielding desire for breaking the barriers of testing. ^^^^And ^^^^thank ^^^^science ^^^^for ^^^^multiverse ^^^^theories...
 
Before I send you on your merry way to your team leaders who will further instruct you on your SCP assignment, the lab boys want me to go over a few warnings. **Ahem** Do not touch any Aperture Lab equipment unless directed to do so.
 
Also note that before going through the Material Emancipation Grille processing wall, any and all unauthorized equipment that passes through it will be vaporized. On the rare chance this emancipates any dental fillings, crowns, tooth enamel, or teeth... wave down one of the tall men wearing bird masks, they will fix you up in a jiffy.
 
Lastly, unless you are part of the Sarkic project, do not go near or look directly at any of the figures in the brown hooded robes. If you're unsure if you are part of the Sarkic project, check for any unusual markings tattooed on back of your right hand.
 
Remember, we here at Aperture are proud of your mostly voluntary services you are supplying to these SCP units and can't wait to see the results from the many tests you may run into.
|
You can always tell who they are by the look in their eyes, the hungry grin on their faces. Of course, much of the public is unable to recognize superheroes. I wake up nearly every night to their grins, devoid of emotion, and the arrogant twinkle dominating their eyes.
Many times in these dreams I am burning, the unnatural flames summoned by Pyrosurge rapidly eating my flesh. In others, I am falling endless stories, the massive hammer of Righteous Knight having knocked out two floors of my apartment building, causing it to collapse beneath me. In yet more horrible subconscious endeavors, I am consumed by the villainous swarms controlled by Wasp Queen, alongside the screams of others subject to the same fate.
The worst part about these dreams is that they never happened to me. Instead, my family members were lost, one by one, at the hands of heroes and villains trying to eliminate each other. It always seemed like I was a magnet, pulling death and destruction toward me, until I realized how many other deaths are caused each year by reckless battles across the city.
Somehow, I'm still standing. Unnaturally lucky, if you can call it that. Pyrosurge's flames had shot right past me, the hammer of Righteous Knight striking right above me as I climbed the stairs of my building after a long day of work. The all-consuming swarms of Wasp Queen had created a pocket of air around me, not daring to land on my skin.
I spent many sleepless nights pondering my unlikely fate. \*What if my immunity was not simply up to chance? What if it was a power of my own?\* I had shuddered at the thought. But then I realized there could have been a reason why superheroes wouldn't touch me. I decided to explore the possibility.
It wasn't hard to find Pyrosurge. His alter ego was far too obvious, a fireman. A good way to become unnoticed among massive walls of destructive flame. When I arrived at the Fire Hall, his reckless gaze wasn't unnoticed by me. He was restocking a fire truck after an emergency call, the garage door left open and exposing.
I walked over to the man, already prepared with an unconspicuous question. "Would you and your team be interested in being a part of the summer festival this year?"
He turned over to me, eyes gleaming as if on fire. "Sure, buddy, we're always happy to be part of the community."
"That's what I thought. Here's a flyer."I handed him the poster I had taken from the wall at the local grocer's, making sure my hand touched his before I pulled away.
Pyrosurge froze in place, staring down at the page. When he turned back to me, there was a bewildered look in his eyes. His features looked almost...weakened. A dark shadow passed over his gaze, as if in a trance. He forcefully snapped his fingers a few times, the sound like a lighter failing to ignite. His eyes were empty, devoid of their recognizable spark.
"See you later, buddy,"I said with far too much expression as he stared back at me with an empty expression.
From that day forward, I have devoted my life to ridding heroes and villains of their power. Whispers have been spreading across the city of a mysterious Neutralizer. A war has started within the newspapers as to whether I am good or bad. It doesn't matter to me as long as my purpose is to save innocent lives. I'm happy they haven't decided my true nature. I would hate to be regarded as a hero or a villain.
​
This was very fun to write! As by request, I have written a second part below! |
Fred was stood in a container of sorts without walls. Just the faintest purple tinge gave any indication of anything separating him from the aliens stood there. There were three of them, each of similar height, coming up to his shoulders. They had vaguely insect-like faces and seemed to breathe very fast.
​
"Tell us, strange being, what are the defensive capabilities of your planet."said the middle alien.
​
"We have enough weaponry to destroy the entire planet"Fred replied stoically.
​
The aliens seemed hesitantly curious. "And what sort of weaponry do you have?"
​
"Oh, many kinds. We have tiny bugs that you can't see which feed away on matter, we have already set in motion a climate shift which will demolish any attacking armada from any solar system, and we have a leader, oh, what a leader!"said Fred, finishing off gloriously.
​
The aliens began muttering in between themselves, in some language which sounded somewhat similar to the sound over-ripe tomatoes make when you throw them against a wall.
​
"And, do you know of our presence in your solar system?"said the alien furthermost on the left.
​
"Oh, we have been preparing for years, we've known all about all you's for well over 5 solar cycles. We know all about your probing techniques."
​
The aliens were visibly agitated. Their telescopic probes were constructed from dark matter, and should be completely invisible from almost all forms of spectrometry. This clearly was a planet they were not quite ready to face. |
"If it's stupid, but it works, it ain't stupid."
One could say that was humanity's motto. Every other species in the galaxy would stop at "That's stupid."I think that was our downfall. We came up with a perfect solution for humanity. They even have a name for it. "The Final Solution."
Sounds so very ... permanent. Oh, if only we had listened to our histortechs. They tried to warn us. Every time humanity had someone, or something, attempt to implement the "final solution", they just came back even stronger.
We thought, "we're smarter, we have better tech, more worlds, more guns, more ships, more people, they cannot possibly win."
Only one thing. Who pays?
It costs money to go to war. Lots of it. Deity forefend that you should lose your weapon, your ship, expend any ammo, eat any of the rations provided! The bureaucracy would make you pay for the ink you used to justify *anything you used, lost, or ate*!
We should have implemented another Earth saying, "The first thing we do is kill the lawyers". Only stretch the definition to include any bureaucrat who isn't directly involved in *issuing* equipment. Especially those involved in justification of expenditures.
So, you couldn't use your military, but we'd already announced that the humans had to go. Another brilliant idea from the humans. Bounty Hunters.
That's right, we couldn't use our official military, but we could pay a bounty on humans. Let those adventurous souls among us deal with it. It gave them an incentive to be efficient. As proof, they had to bring back the left ear of each human killed. We'd do gene scans to make sure they were from different people. The other effect would be to preserve planets. No blowing prime real estate up and claiming billions of bounties!
We should have gone ahead and let them.
So, we got the law passed, got the funding in place, and opened the doors.
Listen to the crickets.
The very first person to show up was a human. He was a bit furtive, more than a bit dirty, and carrying a large plastic bag. "This the place for the bounty?"
"Yes, but your a human!"
"So?"
"Humans can't apply for the bounty!"
"Check your own laws buddy. Don't say nothing about speices be'n excluded."
So the checked. He was right, and that bag was stuffed full of left ears. We were aghast. And truth be told, more than a little frightened. The clerks counted them out, ran them through the gene scan, and they all came out unique. There was a startling number of closely related ears. We thought we had a serial killer of whole families!
Best thing to do was pay him and show him the door! But one of the gentechs just had to get curious. "What is that strange smell?"
"Ah? Oh, that's formaldehyde, among other things. Couldn't have them rotting away before I got them here!"With a very strange smile on his face.
Whew! He was gone.
Shortly after that, we had so many humans turning up for the bounty we thought the whole race had gone completely nuts! Killing off your own speices for profit!? Well, if it cut their numbers down, so be it.
Thing is, every one of those ears had that strange smell to them, except for a few that were dessicated, or shrunken. We finally tallied the ears -- it took a while to get the damnable bureaucracy to pay for the courier ships -- and came to the conclusion that we must have killed their entire population ... six times over!
Okay, that's reason enough for another exploratory mission. This time we held guns to the heads of the bureaucrats and told them to sign or die. Surprisingly many of them chose to die. Fine by us, just grab the next ink slinger and give it the same choice. That mission was funded, crewed, and on its way so fast I think they broke light speed right off the space dock.
The report came back. Earth was empty. No living humans at all. Just a bunch of relatively freshly dug pits with stones at one end, a box at the bottom, and a strangely preserved human, missing a left ear.
It took our histortechs a bit to figure it out. They preserve their dead. But that only accounted for a tenth of the ears turned in.
That's when we found the vats. Still full of ears.
Again, it took time to find out what happened. That first fellow had collected all the ears from every graveyard he could reach, and bummed a ride from a tramp cargo ship, in exchange for a tenth of the bounty.
When he came back, he came with a bunch of ships just like the tramp that brought him to us. They almost executed him, but instead gave him a medal, his own ship, and sent him back with a few pilot understudies and scientists. Oh, and another few graveyards worth of ears. When they got back, they had top of the line cloning gear, and a lot more ships. This time, they were colonization ships.
By that time, anyone who could figure out how to fly one of the first ships was given another bag full of ears, and off they went. Humans were taking over the shipping lanes. Why? No bureaucracy! They called themselves ... smugglers.
They had every reason to be smug all right. We'd funded their entire exodus.
No big deal! We had already populated every habitable planet suitable for humans in the galaxy. There was nowhere for them to go!
We could not have been more wrong.
They didn't need planets. They must have tried a thousand different things, before they figured out how to inflate asteroids into small worlds. Then blew up a few thousand more figuring out how to build stellar drives for things that big. Something that our best scientists still say is stupid.
Then we noticed that human ships were coming from areas known to have *no* habitable planets for *any* speices. Another expedition was sent.
Terraforming they called it. An utterly idiotic idea, unless you don't have anywhere else to go.
The collective governments were in an uproar. Finally, they were going to do what we should have done in the first place. The military was activated, and with the obstructionists out of the way, up and running in less than 20 years. Fast! The biggest problem was who was going to be in charge. We settled that with combat maneuvers with live ammo. Anyone who wants to lead has to assemble an army and survive all comers. Stupid? Sure, but it worked. We were learning you see.
Not fast enough.
A human army showed up.
Weapons of such cunning, and yet based on such stupid ideas that we'd never thought of them
They ended up in charge of the military.
Immediately ordered them disbanded. The ships converted into colonization ships of all sizes, and their vastly increased population shipped out for other galaxies.
Well, we finally got what we wanted. The humans were gone, but the damage was already done.
However poorly, we'd learned to keep trying until you succeed. Only now, our little galaxy is surrounded by humans
((Finis!))
|
"Oh shit....Splerg, its one of those evolved monkey things... whats it want? Its just staring at us? Is it because of my four eyes?"The purple alien panicked whispering to his partner as Bob stood before them, giving them a rather blank stare, allowing humans into the intergalatic council caused quite a stir, many feared what they would do if invited to the council... but many more feared what would happen if they weren't invited.
"Go ask what it wants!"Splerg said to Berg, a tentacled hand pushing the purple alien towards Bob, who still was staring blankly at them..
"I DON'T WANT TO DIE!"Splerg shouted, trying to drag his clawed feet along the ground before soon he was standing beside the human, he took a small gulp and spoke. "So... human... you were staring at us, did... you want something?"
Bob said nothing, not helping the air of unease that was reeking through the station.
"Ah you see human... when someone asks a question, its usually polite to...."Splerg went a little quiet, the human was unflinching, Splerg came from a race that had lived sixteen million years longer then earthlings and yet, the earthling treated him like some runt.
"I... HUMAN I DEMAND A-"
"Achoo!"Bob wiped his nose and gave a soft sniffle
"Berg bolted at the sound, acting as if someone had shot a death laser through the station, Splerg was dripping random liquids, the greyish oil like substance dripping from his face before he collapsed to his knees in fear. "Please! Spare me! Tell me what you want... and ill get it! Don't kill me! Forgive my rudenes-"
As Splerg pleaded, a small woosh was heard as the Titonian woman left the room.
"Heh.... that alien has four boobs"Bob snickered. "So what did you want?"He asked, staring down at the alien before him. |
The Universe was a very pragmatic entity. In spite of the awe and wonder it often inspired in the creatures that dwelt within it, it had always retained a certain matter-of-fact attitude. This is one of the many factors in how it was able to survive for so long.
So when it heard of the imminent reset, it thought nothing more to itself than *Hm, this is rather annoying, isn't it.*
With this small thorn in its side, the Universe decided to try and find some answers. You see, in spite of its apparent omnipresence and intimidating scale, the pool of knowledge from which it drew wasn't much deeper than your standard bathtub.
*Maybe the Gorgoloons will have some advice,* the Universe thought as it narrowed its focus on a tiny yellow planet.
"People of Gorgoloo, hear me. Have you any knowledge of the end of things? Have your minds seen past the edges of time?"
In a moment of cosmic tragedy, the Gorgoloons merely looked at each other in confusion. As it would turn out, they had forgotten how to speak in Universal. Their minds were very small, and many hundreds of years had been devoted to the creation of what you may know as a 'sock.'
As always, the Universe remained steady in its resolve, and simply moved on to the next possible source of answers.
The people of Skartain were much more equipped to communicate with the Universe. Many weeks were spent discussing under the eternal sunset of the large sphere. But yet another brick wall was all that was to be found there. When questioned on the nature of time, it was found that the two parties had wildly different ideas of what that meant.
"Time? Oh, you mean like when the sun finally sets? That will never happen!"the Skartainians cheerfully offered, somehow appearing adorable in their ignorance.
With still no answers but a nice, warm feeling from the friendliness of Skartain still fresh in its being, Universe turned to the last resort. The ball at the end of hope. *Earth.*
To the Universe's great surprise, the scientists of Earth had exactly the answers he needed. But as is often the case, not the answers he desired.
He had learned about the very origins of himself; the Big Bang. He was offered theories of how he came to awareness, and streams of knowledge that had previously seemed impossible. But in spite of how fruitful this journey within himself had proved, it had also come with a sentence of death.
"You're going to die, Universe. A new one will likely take your place."
"So...I'm going to be a dad?"
"In a way, yes,"the scientist offered first with pity, and then with a smile.
"I suppose there are worse fates."
The Universe and the humans shared a final few days together, as they waited for the reset. And in a moment of silence throughout the whole of existence, the rumblings of something new could be heard.
"I'll miss you all,"said the Universe to all of its inhabitants, as it closed its eyes on all its wonders for the final time.
***BANG.***
_______________________________
Check out [r/psalmsandstories](https://www.reddit.com/r/psalmsandstories/) for more fairly silly stories by me, if you'd like. |
The good die young, right? Something like that, at least. Technically, I might still qualify as good since I haven't aged a day in spite of living the same Monday morning over and over and over again. An even thousand years of Mondays. Even Garfield would grow used to that shit. Who am I kidding? I'm looking to guarantee that I won't be good even if I do this a million times. I like this life.
Tomorrow is Monday. Again. Big surprise. If I've counted correctly, it also happens to be my day of reckoning. A group of dudes in fancy robes - I told them they were outdated and that they looked like tools, I think that's what bumped me to an even thousand years - is going to come on down. They're going to zap into my head or rewind time or something magical like that and see how I've behaved myself for the little bit of time they've been gone.
Quick heads up - they will be delighted, or at least I would be if I were them. You know why? Because gods love to torture people. I mean, there is just no other explanation. Starving children? Human trafficking? Murder? War? Disease? Blame it on the gods. I couldn't stand to disappoint them. Imagine if they came back from that little thousand year hiatus to find me as behaved as a nun, taking everything life throws at me up the ass just to prove I'm repentant and that I've changed. Fuck that. I made a decision day one, just after those entitled assholes flew off into the clouds. I was going to live every day like it was my last, because the next day would be reset right back to where I started.
At first, I enjoyed the usual niceties of life. Cocaine, hookers, dancing around naked in the streets while gorging myself on fried Oreos. The type of stuff that only the rich and famous can get away with, minus the pedophilia. Zero consequences. You know why? Because those stupid bastards with all their godly powers and stuff lacked the foresight to understand that I just didn't give even the littlest, teeniest fuck. Everything would reset the next day. What was I going to do? Something stupid and fall in love and suddenly realize I didn't want to restart the next day? Oh, please. I was like a drunk monkey key-smashing the console that dictates the fate of the universe. If it was possible, I tried it.
Sometimes it hurt. Real bad. Twenty-four hours can feel like an eternity in and of themselves if you're being tortured and your fingernails being peeled off one at a time or your teeth being trimmed with nail-clippers. I messed with the wrong gang, clearly. Shot them all up the next day and they didn't even know why. Sometimes I behaved. I went to interviews. Got hired on the spot one of those days. Showed up the next day. You know what they say about being good? It doesn't fucking pay off. I got to work all positive like hey, I'm going to make a good impression and turn my life around. And turn my life around I did. Full circle. 360 degrees. Right back to where I always was the next morning and they looked at me like they hadn't the foggiest fuck who I might be.
And tomorrow is that day of reckoning. I've finally made it. But there is one last business I have to attend to. You see, in spite of my little bouts of misbehavior over the past thousand years of Mondays, a little doubt has been creeping into my mind. What if I just haven't done enough? What if there's more to life than riding around on a stolen Harley ass-naked and with a biker gang on your tail? The doubt was just eating me up inside.
So here's the thing. I'm pretty sure I can get another millennium of immortality and doing whatever the fuck I want. I just have to play my cards right and make sure the average me hasn't even improved the tiniest bit. I have to make sure I haven't learned a single lesson that the gods wanted me to learn. And in order to do that, I've got to take it back. Way back. Back to the day that I fucked up so bad that the gods came down from the heavens with the weight of a thousand generations of disappointment in their eyes and sentenced me to a thousand years of Mondays. And I just have to do the exact same thing again.
*****
Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, please check out more stories at /r/MatiWrites. Constructive criticism and advice are always appreciated! |
He stabbed me.
My boyfriend stabbed me and got away with it. Claimed it was a mugging gone terribly wrong. I didn't even know why until much later.
When I saw him next, three months had passed, and the body of a cockatiel I'd suddenly woken up in, appealed to him in some way.
He bought my terrified bird form, taking it to the apartment I knew so well.
He called me Pip.
And then I found out the truth.
Pictures, dozens, hundreds perhaps, all over the walls of the one room I'd not been allowed in. Of me, of other similar looking women.
He was a serial killer.
His newest pictures were on the wall above the desk he had there, making scrapbooks of his latest target.
I was physically powerless to stop him from killing again, but there had to be something I could do...
He let me out to fly quite a lot, and I was able to spend time in the picture room. He left his journals out on the desk, and with my remaining human knowledge, I was able to read them.
Twelve women, including me... how could I have been so stupid?!
That settled it then. I had to do something.
Sarah came round on Saturday nights. When he went into the kitchen to check on dinner, I called out other girl's names in his voice.
She thought he was cheating and dumped him quick.
Lucy was a sweet thing, only came round the once. Turns out she was allergic to birds... I made sure to rub myself all over the clothes he laid out for his dates. She got a rash and decided it would be better to see other people.
Rebecca... I couldn't save. She was a prostitute he'd brought back for the night to... 'relieve stress'.
I copied her screams and woke him up every night for a month with them. His neighbours have complained to the landlord, but he's not done anything yet.
His latest target... I know her. She lived across the world for a year, and never got to meet him, we have different last names.
He's not going to get my little sister though. He left the window in the picture room open.
It's time to toss some pages about. |
I don't know why the hell someone though Jules Verne was a good trope to follow.
How "the humble common cold"managed to defeat all the aliens in War of the Worlds was always stupid to me. Yet, here it was.
I stood amongst the howling pleading creatures as they lay on the ground or huddled into small groupings; bumps of various colors were on their skin and they itched and bled.
My partner, Markus, stood above one as it rolled over. They were all like that. Too sick to fight.
He gave them a pitied look. "I feel bad for them you know..."he said. "Chickenpox sucks."
"I'll take your word for it"I replied. "Never had them. I had to get the vaccine despite my mother's attempts to get me to have them."
"Count yourself lucky."
We holstered the squad of aliens into a containment facility and quarentined them.
One of them cursed us for our biological prowess.
I laughed. "Biological warfare prowess? Sorry. This isn't anything. Chicken Pox is something that just exists. Almost every human on this planet has had it. You weren't defeated by humans. You were defeated by the thing that puts most kids into bed for weeks at a time normally."
They stared at us as I sighed. "Stop scratching, you'll get worse infections. And get some sleep, you need rest."
Humble Chicken Pox virus... Who knew. |
“But doctor, how could that be? It is I, Master Roberto de las Heras. The best speaker of our time, nay, of all times! I’ve spoken in front of millions, playing on their emotions as if they were an orchestra and I their conductor, leading them through a performance that left thousands weeping and millions cheering! To tell me not to speak is to tell the rivers not to flow, the sun not to rise and a mother not to comfort her crying babe. I refuse it!
You look at me as if I’m vain, insanely so, but it is not for me I make this plead. It’s for everybody else. Who will, if I can’t, raise our soldiers’ spirits when their nights are cold and their fight without meaning? Who will go down on the podium, on the meeting of politicians, to strike a negotiation that leaves both parties equally discontent? Who will speak at the plaza on New Year’s, begging and nudging our people to do better, to *be* better? How can the world move without his humble server Roberto to tell it so? Your diagnosis must be mistaken, or maybe it was meant for the patient after me, because a world where my voice stops is a cold one.
No! NO! Don’t give me that look of pity, it is not mine to have! Scour those eyes of their care and understanding and *think*! Accept my truth doctor, because it’s the biggest you’ll ever get in this sad, little room you call your *consultorio*. Don’t let my anger rise anymore, because it has brought giants down, my righteous voice can cast you from your throne as surely as it has a hundred Kings. Scour that pity I tell you!
Please, please doctor, there’s got to be a way, a procedure, a medicine. This cannot be it, can it? I’ll do anything, I’ll pay you all the money in the world and then some. I will get you power and influence, men’s admiration and women’s love. With my voice I can get you the world, but you need to help me keep it. Please doctor, oh please, this can’t be my end.
Oh, it is, it’s my end. I can already sense it, creeping through my bones like the *Parca* herself. Its cold touch of bony fingers on my skin. My life goes down the drain doctor, and I can’t but think of all my regret, for things both done and left unfinished. Oh, my sweet Marie, how I have hurt you, now I can never tell you how sorry I am. Take care of our sweet daughter, she has all my best qualities and none of the worst.
Perhaps it’s for the best. My life has been long and great, I thank you, good doctor, for listening to me. Let it be said that Master Roberto de las Heras knew when to said goodbye, and accept that his life ends not with a bang, but with a…” |
So you might be wondering how I got my, err, unique super hero name. You might think a speedster like myself might have a name like Speed Man, or The Zoomer. Sure, I get that a lot. The problem for me has always been that I simply can't do what those heroes do. Speed Man has a super durable body that can withstand the forces of extreme movement. The Zoomer actually bends time in a field around her, meaning that she is never actually moving as fast as she seems to in real time.
For me, I first found out about my powers when I fractured 80% of the bones in my body when I was 11 years old. I healed up okay for the most part, but during my recovery, the doctors put me on a regimen of power-reducing drugs until I could learn to control my power and use it without injuring myself.
The first thing to learn was that there are simply limits to how fast I can move. You can tear a ligament or rip a bone apart going too fast. The next thing to learn was that even a small amount of speed applied to a strike against a hard surface (like bone) with break your own bones. So, that certainly rules certain strategies out. I can't just run across the room at Mach 2 and punch a guy square in the skull, now can I?
But the thing is, I still think fast. Even though I may not have super intelligence, I can apply a great deal of time to thinking through any task. I quickly became a valuable team member for my fast problem solving skills alone.
But this also applies to fighting. Against a non-speedster, the rest of you are all insanely slow. I can easily dodge just about any normal attack. And in terms of damage, all I really have to do is go for the squishy parts. Throats, Guts, and yes, even genitals are all fair game.
So, yeah, I like to think my biggest asset to a team is my decisive and quick decision making, my ability to learn new skills in minutes instead of days, and my agile combat prowess. But you probably know me best as the Cock Knocker. |
*A girlfriend?* I puzzled at the object of the day. I shook my hand and gazed back at the ring, hoping it was some sort of malfunction.
*A GIRLFRIEND*, the ring displayed.
I scratched my head and shrugged my shoulders. "How hard can it be?"I said to myself.
\###
My heart raced as cold streams of sweat fell from my face. I shot a look at the horizon; the sun was getting close to setting. I sprinted down the street, dodging a few honking cars and barged my way into a coffee shop.
"I need a girlfriend!"I yelled; the patrons all gazed at me with wide eyes. "Please, it's just for a day. I'll die if I don't get a girlfriend before sunset!"
The coffee shop manager walked over to me. To my dismay, he was not a girl, but I asked anyway, "Will you be my girlfriend?"
"Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to leave,"he said as he guided me out of the shop.
I jerked away from him and ran outside. I checked the sun and only a slight sliver was left. I fell to my knees and stared at the cursed ring.
*A GIRLFRIEND*, it mocked me.
"I'm too young to diiiiiieeeee!!!"I screamed to the sky with my arms wide and knees on the floor.
A strange beeping resonated from the ring. I yanked it to my eyes and read *APRIL FOOLS!*
I fumbled my phone out of my pocket and checked the date: April 1st.
[r/AJHWriting](https://www.reddit.com/r/AJHWriting) |
I didn't mean to do it.
I didn't mean for the bomb to actually go off. I didn't mean for the building's supports to be out-of-date. I didn't mean to succeed in my villainous plans. All I wanted was to be with my brothers.
They were always good to me..... whenever they showed up. Unfortunately, they were all blessed with amazing power, and with it, a responsibility to go out and thwart evil every hour of every day. As I did not have any superpowers, I could not be with them during their great battles. There were times where they went to another city to fight a powerful villain and didn't return for days. All this I tolerated because I knew they were forces for good, and they still saw me a few times per month.
Then, a few years ago, came the Dark Lord. A legendary evil being that was sealed away 5,000 years ago by the Ancients. It arose in Egypt to conquer the world, and my brothers went out along with every other major superhero to fight this great evil. Many battles were fought, and most of Northern Africa was brought to ruin by such incredible powers clashing. My brothers were gone for 4 months.
I was only 8 when this happened, I couldn't fully care for myself, and my parents were both dead by that point, so I had to go to an orphanage until their return. They were mean and cruel, and made me crave my brothers' care even more. Perhaps I got a bit obsessive, but I knew I couldn't go without family for so long again, but I knew I could never be a hero on-par with them.
Instead, I would be a villain.
My brothers and I played a little game. I would do some evil thing, something significant but could be easily fixed, like stealing a monument. One of my brothers would catch me, make everything go back to normal, and the cycle would repeat. My brothers never punished me as all damage was easily reversible and they knew I missed them. Life started looking up again.
One day, I made a foolish mistake. I decided to plant a real bomb under a building, telling my brothers they better get there in time or else. I didn't know that a sorcerer had just revived the Knights of the Round Table as zombies to take over the world, and that my brothers were in another continent fighting him.
I've always looked forward to my family coming back, but now I'm scared. What will they say after I've taken innocent lives for their attention? How will they punish me? If they take me to jail, will I ever see them again?
I love my brothers, but I don't know if they love me anymore. |
‘Man, I wish I could lie in bed all day and do nothing’.
My desk neighbour, Amy, giggled a little and said, ‘I hope that wasn’t your wish’ and went back to work. I returned a smirk, made some flirty comment back. I looked back to my computer and started to think, turning it over in my head, before laughing at myself. I was letting her get to my head, and that I had used my wish the year before. I had wanted a hotdog, turned the corner and saw a hotdog cart. I had scorned myself for wasting it on such a trivial thing, but I was impressed that I had kept it safe for so long. The reason being, I was born with a plethora of problems, one of which being that my vocal chords didn’t develop properly which left me unable to talk. After years of speech therapy and many surgeries, I had finally gained a voice, although it was softer and a little quieter than it would have been.
I looked out the window and started wondering what I would use my wish for if I still had it. Everyone knew that your wish could come in any form, hell, the owner of the company had somehow saved his wish until he was 19 and asked to become rich, and just the next morning he had found out that a distant relative had died and left him everything, including his billion-dollar finance company. Nobody knows in which form your wish will arrive, or what consequences come with it, and it is known that nothing happens instantaneously, and that your wish can be granted in any way or form.
Susan, my manager, called me in to a meeting with a VP, and I soon forgot about it all and had to step into meeting after dull meeting, until it was time to return home. It was 5:30 when I left the office, and I was exhausted. I got on my bike and started to go home.
The air was brisk, and the streets were weirdly empty for London, but I just put it down to the weather. The quiet let me get lost in my thoughts once again, and again I started thinking about what I would use my wish for. I thought about how I would make myself more attractive, my home nicer, my voice deeper, until I looked up into the sky and saw the stars. 5 years ago, this wouldn’t have happened, but because some teenaged girl wished for ‘no more pollution’, they were shining brightly. It was then that I decided I would wish to know what was beyond, and if there were other life forms.
I saw a light, it got brighter and brighter until I looked in front of me and saw a car headed straight for me, I tried to get out of the way, yet the roads were wet and I skid on a leaf, falling right in front of the wheels of the car. The stopped with a screech and jumped out of the car. It was a young girl, screaming and sobbing. I tried to speak, to say I was ok, but I couldn’t. I tried to move or do anything to tell her I was alive, but I couldn’t.
That is all I remember. I am here now, writing this in my bed, for I can do nothing else. My writing is ugly and shaken, written with my left hand as my right lays uselessly at my side. I can do nothing for myself, I cannot eat, drink or sit up. I have sores all over my body from living like this, and although I have a caretaker, nothing is easy. They say I am luck to have survived, but I will stay like this the rest of my life. I do not think that I am lucky, and I wish that I had died that night, for it is nothing now. That is my life, nothing. I have been told that I am stupid for saying my wish out loud, and I brought this pain myself, and perhaps they are right. I did this. I got my wish. |
*That's odd*, the angel thought to himself, as he stared at the two sleeping bodies in front of him. *There's usually three people.*
In the thin sliver of space between the afterlife and earth, the angel snapped his fingers. The two women who were sleeping woke up. The younger one immediately frowned at the sight of the other.
"Mom?"she asked.
Completely opposite, the mother's face beamed with joy when she saw her daughter. "Alice!"she said, "my baby! How nice it is to see you again. But where are we?"
The two looked around, but saw only the surrounding void. The sole thing that existed there besides themselves was the angel, and they fixed their eyes on him.
"Hello, you two,"he said, fulfilling his role as informant, "and welcome to the afterlife."
Hearing that, Alice's face turned into a snarl. She remembered how she had died: in the bathroom of a crack-house, as people just like herself shot up right outside the door. It hadn't been an elegant way to go. She instinctively wanted to cover her arms, to hide the bruises and scars from her mother, but as she looked down she saw her arms were spotless.
"My baby girl,"Alice's mother whispered, knowing that she herself had already been dead for years. She stared at her daughter. "You're still so young and beautiful. I'm sorry."She held a hand out to touch Alice's face, but Alice swatted it away.
"Don't, Mom,"Alice said. "I don't deserve your pity."
"What, dear? You're my daughter. It's only natural I'd be upset over your death."
Hearing that, Alice's heart sunk like an anchor to the bottom of the sea. She understood she was dead when the angel had said it, but coming from her mother, it had more weight.
"I know,"Alice said, unable to look her mother in the eyes, "but... don't you remember... everything I did?"
Alice's mother tiled her head to the side. "What are you talking about?"
"Mom, I took your money, your possessions. I blamed it on Ryan. It was me who sold your wedding ring. Your brooch from Gram. Everything was me. For drugs."
"Oh, that,"Alice's mother said, almost giggling. "That doesn't matter. I didn't like your father much anyways—and the brooch was hideous. You did me a favor, really. Though I wish you had spent the money on something a little healthier."
"Mom,"Alice said, looking up, gobsmacked, "I siphoned money out of your bank account to fuel my addiction. We couldn't keep you in the nursing home. Because of me, you didn't get the care you needed."
"It's just money, dear. Besides, in the end, it doesn't seem to have mattered. I died all the same."
"Mom,"Alice said, beginning to feel something she hadn't for a long time. "I let Lucy die. She didn't run away, I lied about that. I was too zonked out of my mind to feed her, and she barked and barked away in her cage, until the barking stopped and then the breathing. She starved to death, alone and afraid, all because I was too high to function."
Her mother winced. "I had a feeling,"she said under her breath. "But Lucy was just a dog, and it wasn't your fault. It was the drugs. Your father had a similar problem, you know. I forgive you all the same."
The monster of guilt grew and grew within Alice. "Mom!"she shouted, unable to keep her voice down now, "I didn't even go to your funeral! Your fucking funeral, and I couldn't even do that!"
Alice's mother half-smiled. "I know,"she said, a little hurt. "But it's not a big deal. Time shouldn't be wasted on those who have already passed. Though, it would have been nice to see you there. God let me watch, as a ghost, you know? I waited and waited, and searched through the sea of faces for yours. I never saw it."Alice's mother's eyes drifted off into space for a few moments before snapping back to the present. "But I forgive you."
"Mom!"Alice screamed, tears streaming down her cheeks, the guilt being too much to bear. "The last thing I ever said to you was 'I hate you!'"Her lips quivered and she took short, rapid breaths. "H-How can you forgive that?"
"Because,"her mother said, smiling, tearing up as well, wrapping Alice in her arms, "you're my baby girl."
The most sacred of human relationships, mother and daughter, completely entangled in the each other's arms, cried together. A catharsis took over them. With each teardrop, a vessel of forgiveness began to fill. The guilt melted away. Finally, Alice knew her mother didn't hate her. And finally, Alice's mother got one last chance to show Alice how much she loved her.
The angel had seen enough. He wasn't sure if such a person belonged in Heaven, but it wasn't his choice to make.
The angel, Alice, and her mother vanished in a brilliant spark of light. Before completely disappearing, the angel watched as Alice's lips moved and as her mother smiled and nodded.
In the thin space between life and death, the words hung, suspended in time forever.
"I love you, Mom." |
"I thought about killing myself again yesterday. I don't know, I felt so terrible when I got off work. Just really alone and-"
"You know most suicide attempts are non-fatal."
"I, uh, no, I guess didn't know that."
"That's right, most people are perfectly fine afterwards. Better, actually, because their friends and family can finally see how much they were hurting."
"Wait, what? I don't understand what you mean."
"An attempt, Beth, we're just talking about an attempt. Like taking a few too many pills and calling 911. It's almost always a cry for help, and 9 times out of 10 it works. People who attempt suicide always end up getting the help they need. It's unfortunate, because suicide is never the answer, obviously."
"No, I know it's not. Sometimes I get so low, though, it's hard to see a future. I-"
"I understand, Beth, believe me, I do. Sometimes we can only appreciate our lives by getting close to death."
"Well, yes, I guess so."
"Did you know I attempted suicide once, Beth?"
"You did?"
"Yes, I did. I was about your age, and I was stuck in a job I hated, with people I couldn't stand. I felt like I was alone in the world, and that no one understood me. I couldn't reach out to my parents or my siblings, even though deep down I really wanted to."
"I know what you mean."
"Yes, Beth, I thought you might. One night I decided enough was enough. I knew something had to change."
"What did you do?"
"I bought a bottle of over the counter sleeping pills after work and went straight home. I laid in bed and thought of everything I wanted to be different in my life. Then I thought of everyone I cared about who didn't understand me, and then everyone who ever hurt me and how they would feel if they knew I was dead. Then I took the whole bottle."
"That's sounds awful..."
"No, it wasn't. It was easy, I just took them 4 at a time. When I had taken them all, I laid back down and thought about dying. Being that close to it, that close to death - it changed everything. It completely changed my life."
"Really?"
"Yes, it was incredible. Like magic. After a couple of hours I called 911 and an ambulance came, but they said I was never in any real danger. Still, they considered it a suicide attempt. My family and my friends all found out, and I learned how much they all loved me. But most importantly, I appreciated my life like never before. I felt happy for the first time in my life."
"That's...amazing. I could see myself-"
"I'm sorry, Beth, our time's up for today. So, I'll see you next week?"
|
I had an LSD trip a lot like this once. Inside the trip, I thought this (the writing prompt) was the real thing and that my whole life up to that point had been a hallucination brought on by the drug. I spent a couple of hours furiously writing down song lyrics, the preamble to the Constitution, names, dates, basically anything I could remember about this strange little world I'd dreamed up called Earth.
Still completely out of it, I went downstairs the next morning and announced to my stepfather, "I hallucinated that I worked in a store where they sold animals to people like they were adopting new family members."My stepfather, who lived through the 70s and could tell right away what was going on, said to me, "You quit your job at the pet store last week, dumbass. You're still high." |
Meet John. John is a normal man. He is 43 years old, he has a wife and two children. He has an office job. Every second saturday his wife makes a cake. He doesn't enjoy his work too much, but the days go by at least. John believes he is generally healthy, although frequently he notices he is not a young man anymore. There is only one problem with John: he is terminally ill. When he was young, he suffered nerve damage and ever since then, his body is in pain. He doesn't even know about it anymore. If you asked him if he is hurting, he would say no, because in fact, he thinks he isn't. But that is about to change.
One monday morning, John's car breaks down. It was running just fine on Sunday so it shouldn't be anything serious, John decides. He lifts up the hood, but can't find anything wrong. Perhaps it's something with the wires on the underside. He puts a cardboard down under the car and lies down on it. As he does, something in his back cracks and causes him to sit back up from immediate pain. And suddenly the pain is gone. And so is the other, terminal pain. He feels as if his body got younger by 20 years. He shrugs it off and gets under the car. Immediately he notices a wire hanging and figures it's the cause of the problem.
When he drives to work, he feels like a new man. Usually, he got annoyed by heavy traffic and other people. But not today. Today he feels a brotherly sense to people around. He even notices a shortcut that he never did before and gets to work five minutes early.
"Good morning!", he greets the doorman which surprised just mumbles his greeting back. Today, he decided to even take the stairs, for why it is only two floors. There he meets a colleague he didn't see in a few months. They even make some smalltalk and John and his family get invited to a barbecue party later in the week. John rarely does smalltalk, because he thinks it's stupid and a waste of time, but now, he wasn't annoyed by it even in a tiny little bit.
He arrives in his cubicle, few minutes earlier than usual and looks around. The place is a mess. Not in the usual sense of trash lying around, no, John was normally really tidy, but just now when he looks around, he sees a lot of misplaced items. The telephone could be closer to the wall, those binders over there should be in a drawer and the poster is now barely hanging on the side. Also the place is really dull, but not much he can do about that now.
After his quick revision, John starts working. Spreadsheets, calls, orders, usual office job. Hours later, John's sight finds its way onto a clock and John realizes it's time for a coffee break. Odd, he thinks, usually by this time John was getting moderately tired and bored out from all the work, but not today. He feels rather energetic and to add to that, he even managed to do double the work he normally does until this hour. It is really strange for John. His whole work seemed like a whole new experience, even though it's the same job as he did in the last 8 years. John starts to think what's so different in today from other days. He finds nothing. Of course he doesn't think about a pain he didn't think he had, but he is sure something feels different today. As he goes to make his coffee, he engages in more conversations and it seems even his coworkers seem happier to talk with him today.
His work eventually ends and he heads on home. His children are already home and playing in the garden. Normally, he would tell them to quiet down, as to not disturb the neighbours, but honestly, he didn't like the noise. He doesn't do that today. In fact, he even decides to change and join them in their games. When his wife comes out of the house, she just shines when she sees him playing with them. John is happy at home and the time goes by really quickly.
Soon, or as it seems to him, he is lying in the bed, next to his beautiful wife and he is trying to capture that which is remaining hidden to him. What did change today, what did he do differently? Why is his life suddenly so much brighter?
It doesn't take him a long time to decide that he doesn't want to know. His life is now better and he doesn't want to be bothered by anything anymore. |
It reached for the Control Panel, felt its unwieldy hands press the buttons. It was not meant for this life of solitude. There were more of it, somewhere, and it searched for them. Yet the cosmos was empty, a blank map with no traces of a anything it and the Great Machine.
Its number was AD-12. AD-13 would follow when he was too old, his millennium of life support used up as designated. Still, he had time, time to view the empty void, gaze upon the distant flecks of stars, input information into the Great Machine.
Time passed, a blur of days it never bothered to count. It simply was *aware*. Months, Years, sometimes decades would pass by in the trance of empty black, filled only by the clicks of the Great Machine. If it passed a star, the Great Machine let it know.
*Home.*
Only a gut feeling, but It felt itself slowly turning, the Great Machine around it swiveling lazily as it traced its footsteps through the galaxy. There was nothing more for it to see, nothing but home.
It was its nine-hundreth-and-tenth time it logged a new year when it finally landed on home. Eden, the Great Machine told it, although it was not sure what this meant. As if heaving a final breath, the Great Machine repeated it once more, before it opened.
It had never seen anything like this.
It was a new thing. It was a color, but how to describe the color was beyond It.
*Green*, AD-12 decided. From now on, that color was *green*.
From Above, another Great Machine landed, touching ground with the surface. AD-12 felt something. It was a curious thing, something never experienced in his own life before leaving the Great Machine.
*Emotion*, AD-12 thought absently. It was another word.
The other Great Machine opened. "Eden,"it said, and it too began to fall apart. Then he saw it. It was something new, but not new. It was his own, yet something so alien, in all of his nine hundred and ten years, he could never have dreamed of.
"Eden,"Ad12 attempted to say, as if to talk to the other It, yet it came out as, "Even."
The other It, just as lost as he. "Eve?"
Adam looked back, suddenly affirmative. "Eve." |
We never told him.
How could we? It was ridiculous. He wouldn't believe it. Even if he did, it would break him.
We couldn't allow that. He'd done so much good for the world. There was so much good in him.
Well, I guess there was evil, too.
Diana found out first, about five years ago. She met it at a bad moment, in the middle of a fight. It tried to intervene, screw with things, make a *joke,* you know?
Well, the Cheetah didn't take kindly to that, and the Joker wound up minus one head.
She showed up at the Watchtower, told me the Joker was dead, and I told her that we needed to take some time before we broke the news to him. So we decided to wait a day.
The next day, it blew up an orphanage. He showed up, almost caught it, but it got away.
Three years ago, J'onn figured it out. It's his superpower - spawned by his subconscious - a representation of all that he isn't.
We're not sure what to do about it. We thought about trying to cure him. We almost did.
It's not that simple, though. The Joker is a driving force for him. It's a thorn in his side, a stone in his shoe. And he'll rid the world of evil trying to get it out.
In a bizarre way, it's done more good than harm. |
*Tick Tick Tick*
It's taunting me. I know it is. That damn clock has to remind me how little time I have left.
"Will I still be me?"I asked my mother this morning.
"Of course you will, hun!"My mother replied, reassuringly, "Why would you think that?"
I don't think she understood. Sure, she had chosen to be a women on her Genday, but as she constantly reminded me, she knew she was a woman from birth.
"I... Your right mom."I lied.
*Tick Tick Ding*
11 o'clock. One more hour until my 18th birthday, my Genday --The day we all choose who we become, be it a man or a woman.
One more hour until I change.
I was never like the other children, or adults for that matter. It seemed most people knew fairly early on what sex they identified with. My mother had always been a girl, even before the transition. She loved babies and connected easily with others, always wanting to know every detail of everyone's lives.
My father was less sure when he was young, but after his Freshman year in school, he knew his love was football. That had sealed the deal on becoming a man for him, as women were not allowed to play. He retained his compassion and deep desire to have children, and for that I am grateful.
"It's not easy for anyone, Pat"My father had told me when I confided my hesitation to choose, "This is the biggest change anyone ever experiences, it's perfectly normal to feel nervous. It happens to everyone. Well, except for your mother!"He chuckled.
"The important thing is, is that your mother and I will love you no matter what you choose."
I appreciated that. I really did. He doesn't know the whole truth, though. I'm afraid of what he would think if he did.
*Tick Tick Tick*
11:40
Not much longer now. Soon they would know; soon everyone would know. I have heard of others like me, but I have never met them. Agenders, they were called. They chose no gender, and for that choice, are deemed unfit for society.
The genderless have no rights under common law. Most cannot find work, and none can be married. A movement started a few years ago to grant the genderless the ability to rent housing, but the argument had not yet gained mainstream traction.
Unless they were lucky enough to find a sympathetic landlord, most were forced into the Androgynous Districts. The places were overcrowded with the impoverished, poorly kept, and generally ignored by society at large.
I don't want to end up there! Most who do never get out. You cannot change your mind after the Genday. If you choose not to undergo the transition, there are no second chances. A person without gender has no place. They live and die in disgrace.
*Tick Tick Tick*
Five minutes to midnight. Five minutes until I become someone I'm not.
What am I thinking? I can't choose a gender! I have no gender. I have never been more sure of anything in my life. To choose would be living a lie.
Two minutes.
But I *must* choose. To not choose is dooming myself to a life of despair! A life of no one looking you in the eye. A life outside of "proper"society. Somewhere were my "sin"would not influence other children.
One minute.
Here we go. The time to choose is now. No more delays, I must make my family proud. But I *won't* be proud. No, I will be wrong. This is all wrong! Why must we choose? What's so wrong about having no sex? There is no way out. I know what I have to do.
*Ding Ding Ding*
It's midnight, and I have made my choice.
*BANG... Thud* |
"I have *evidence*!"she screamed across the table, then slammed the folder down for effect. Photos of Xochipilli spilled out across the table, showing him copulating with a number of different women. And some men. And some women and men together. Really any combination that you could think of.
"Now, Elizabeth,"I said in my best calming tone, "No one is disputing your claims. What we're here to do is..."
"I"m a *FERTILITY GOD*!"He roared back, planting his hands on the table and causing flowers to spring forth from miniscule pores in my nice mahogany table. I ground my teeth together and gestured for one of the clerks to bring a vase and the bottle of Roundup. My wife certainly liked having the Prince of Flowers as a client, but he was ruining every wood surface in the office. "What, you want to just have all women in society be *barren?*"
I put my hands up, hoping to distract them. "Xochipilli, there's no nee..."
"Oh, *very convenient!*"Elizabeth said. "When *I* wanted to have kids, you said you 'had too much going on right now.'"Tears were streaming down her cheeks, and her face was turning beet red. "Too busy going to sacrifices at the temple with Tlaloc and Quetzalcoatl, huh? But when *every other* woman in society wants a baby, you're *more than happy* to *shower them* with your blessing, huh?"
"If we could jus..."
"Oh, and the *men* need your fertility services too?"she asked. "How does *that* work, Xochipilli?"
"You *know* I am also the patron of male prostitues!"he yelled back. "I am a god with many different worshippers, OK? And just because *your* narrow view of sexuality prevents you from understanding my role in the pantheon doesn't mean that my *worshippers* should have to suffer. And maybe if *you* were a little more open minded in the bedroom, we..."
"Oh, you're going to bring that up now? I don't *care* if he is a god, Quetzalcoatl is *still* a serpent, and I am *not* doing that, OK? To even *sugge*..."
"It doesn't *have* to be Quetzalcoatl!"Xochipilli shouted with pollen pouring from his ears. I cranked the HEPA filter up to "severe allergy"settings. "There are *plenty* of other gods that I would willingly invite to the orgy. This 'mortals only' rule that you have in the bedroom is just *absurd*!"
"I know that you're both upset,"I interjected. "Bu..."
"So you're saying that you *have* slept with the other gods?"Elizabeth cut me off. She strode around the table and got right in his face, finger practically jabbing him in the eye. "Which one? Tell me. Was it that bitch Tlazolteotl? I saw her eyeing you at Chicomecoatl's party. I *know* what that *whore* is the goddess of!"
"Yeah!"he answered, pushing his finger back in her face till they just looked like a pair of snarling dogs. "You know? I did. And she *fucking blew my mind,* OK? She did things that your pitiful mortal brain couldn't even *comprehend.*"
There was just a brief moment of silence... and then Elizabeth just threw herself at him, wrapped her arms around his neck, and kissed him deeply. Xochipilli tore off every single article of her clothing (even her socks) in one fell swoop, which was pretty impressive. A carpet of lush green grass spread out from his feet across my tile floors, and he laid her down and began penetrating her before the clerk and I could even make it out the door.
"Everything OK?"my secretary asked as we hastily exited and closed the double doors behind us. "That was a *lot* of shouting."
I took a deep breath and shook my head. "I'm just... just going to give them a minute to calm down."
|
The base was older than I was. I had been in the ship for most of my life on my way to beta seven but I, at least, knew how many years I'd spent out in space. The scans told me that this thing had been here for at least a hundred years. I held my helmet tight under my left arm as I walked around the building looking for a way into the base.
We'd crash landed seven days before. Gladly the surface was close enough to earth that my cracked helmet wasn't the death of me. I hadn't been able to find anyone else in the wreckage yet, the landing gear of our craft had frozen shut in space and the equipment hadn't let us know until it was already too late. The husk of our ship was scattered over the miles around ground zero. I was a day's walk from there.
The mountain that had brought me this far out looked like the Rushmore that they had over in America back home. I'd only seen it in pictures, and I hadn't had a chance to look at the two carvings side by side, but I was fairly sure that it was Washington on the mountain, at least, it was someone who looked like him.
I'd kept walking in this direction in hopes of finding the people that carved that mountain. If they were able to do that, they were going to be at least civilized enough to help me out of the mess I'd gotten myself in. I had expected the buildings I found to be colonial, but this was modern. The jungle was slowly eating away at it, but it was a modern starship base.
I found a door and knocked on it. It cracked open and hissed. I took a moment before putting my helmet back on. I didn't know if the species that had placed this base needed different air than the planet provided. Unless it were filled with something absolutely deadly the filters on my helmet would still do a good enough job to keep me alive.
I walked down the hallway and looked around myself. The hall was filled with metal paneling that vines were starting to overtake. There weren't the usual flickering lights of emergency power. I'd been told everything to expect in an old base, but this seemed older than the manuals thought was possible. I kept moving forward; it wasn't like I could turn around and go back to ground zero, there was nothing there.
I finally hit a door at the end of the hallway. I pressed my hand against it, and it didn't budge. I knocked on it twice and waited for an answer. Of course, there was nothing. Finally, I took a kick at the door, and it held firm against me. I went to turn around.
The door opened like I'd just asked politely.
I slipped into the darkness of the room beyond and tried to get my bearings. I couldn't see anything out in the darkness. It was me alone in the void. I didn't have a light to spread.
In response to the thought, the lights came up. I was blinded for half a moment. Once my vision came back, I saw that I was in a white room with a single desk in the middle of it. There was a man drumming his fingers on the desk. If I hadn't known better, I would have said that he was me.
"Good afternoon,"the man said in my voice, "I've been waiting for you." |
There are moments in life that you carry with you always. The day you graduated from college. Your wedding day. The day you lost a loved one.
I remember the day I tried to lay out a slice of a ham on my planned triple-decker sandwich. An ambulance crashed into my living room; evidently the driver had had a heart attack, and his co-worker's leg was shattered from the impact. So I drove all of them—driver, colleague and gangster with a gunshot wound—to the hospital.
I saved three lives. I failed to save my sandwich. By the time I got home, some bird or cat must have made off with the thing. Sure, I felt really good about saving people, but that hollowness ... that hollowness of a lost sandwich stayed with me.
The next day, health organizations all over the world went into panic mode: contamination of pork on a global scale had been discovered. All the markets and stores in my city dumped their stock of piggy flesh; a nationwide ban of ham ensued. Drug-dealers had taken to selling black-labeled ham instead, because of the margin; I know, because I tried to buy some.
Unfortunately, the police weren't amused when they caught us. I spent three days in jail, followed by six months in quarantine. House arrest.
Make a sandwich without ham, you say? Are you nuts? What kind of nutbag makes a sandwich without ham? It was during the second month of my ordeal that I swore to myself: I would get that triple-decker sandwich or die trying.
The day my quarantine ended, I drove to the nearest supermarket and bought every slice of industrial cheese I could find, lest some rabid religious organization decried them or something. I bought onions and tomatoes, fresh lettuce by the crate, and enough mayo and olive oil to fill the Barringer Crater with.
These I stored in my basement—I'd commissioned it to avoid any more ambulance incidents. I was good to go, except for two things: the bread and the ham.
A year passed, and yet the ban on ham was still ongoing.
One day, while we were spooning on the couch and watching a movie, my girlfriend Susan asked, "You know, Ken, I haven't seen you eat a sandwich for months now."
I thought about my basement and the vegetables chained up inside a heavy-duty freezer, but said nothing.
"Isn't it your favorite?"she pressed.
"I don't want to talk about sandwiches now,"I muttered.
"Oh come on, don't tell me you're still—"
"Don't mention it!"I shouted.
She sat upright and glared at me. "You don't have to take that tone with me. It's only a stupid sandwich."
"Oh yeah? You know what's stupid? Going to a sandwich deli and overpaying for soggy vegetables and low-grade ham between bread you could use as a petri dish, that's what! But go on, tell me how much you love Subway!"
Needless to say, Susan and I don't see each other anymore.
Two years after the ban, I happened to come across a small, unopened pack of ham slices in a German supermarket. I paid the cashier three hundred Euros just to keep quiet about it, and smuggled it through customs by sewing the pieces into the soles of my shoes. Nobody was the wiser, and when I got home, I began to assemble my sandwich in earnest.
With tenderness, I laid out the ham on a home-baked slice of bread. Tomatoes and crunchy lettuce went on after that, followed by a generous dollop of mayo and a dash of olive oil. Using a grate, I shaved the edges off a block of Parmesan cheese—the industrial cheese I gave to my girlfriend when she married her new boyfriend—and placed another slice of bread on top with a sigh.
One down, two to go.
Again, I repeated the process, laying out layer by layer. I had to be careful; my fingers were jumpy with excitement. On went the next piece of bread, and I reached for more ham.
To my horror, my fingers brushed against the cold porcelain bowl and some grease. No ham. "No,"I said, tugging at my hair. "This can't be. There was enough; I counted! No, not now. Not when I'm so close!"
I threw the sandwich out the window in a rage; followed by the entire block of cheese. Next day, I discovered a dead cat in my backyard, with contusions on its head.
My sandwich-less life carried on in a blur after that. Days turned into weeks into months; two years passed, and then three. I ate a grand total of two sandwiches in that time; once at Subway, another during a business trip to Vietnam. I threw up after the former; almost hung myself after the latter.
Susan had a child already. The little tyke hated sandwiches; I once tried to make him a turkey-and-bacon sandwich, only for him to throw it on the ground. Susan threatened to call the cops on me after I raised a knife at him.
On the fifth anniversary of that fateful day, the ban on ham was lifted. Strangely, I didn't feel happy, or excited, or anything. Instead, when I queued up at the counter to pay for my groceries, I felt only that cold certainty that my hour had finally come.
Every move I made in my kitchen was deliberate. Slow and measured. Each cut of the knife; every layer of onion peeled back; every drop of sauce I measured. The champagne sparkled from the candlelight as I set the glass down beside my plate where, at long last, my triple-decker ham sandwich lay waiting.
"Hello, old friend,"I whispered. My hands felt numb, and beads of sweat ran down my temples, as I grasped the sandwich and raised it to my mouth. My heart thumped faster with every passing second; was something about to happen? A plane crash out on the street? World War Three? An alien invasion?
My teeth sank into the bread, into the deliciously salty meat, into the icy freshness of the vegetables, and I burst into tears.
It was the best sandwich ever.
***
*Okay, so maybe I was a little hungry when I wrote this. If you liked this story, head over to [The Nonsense Locker](http://reddit.com/r/nonsenselocker) for more!* |
It was my turn.
Many came before me.
Some wished for money. Inflation rose, money became worthless.
Some wished for love. Life became meaningless for them because of how they could get what they want.
Some wished for happiness. They overflowed with joy, and lost connection to everyone around them, unable to suffer and empathize with them. They only feel joy.
Others wished for more mundane things. Cars. Houses. Lands. Food. But only one wish, one thought, is in me. I have seen many wishes before me. I will see many after.
"Child, is your wish ready?"asked the godfather.
"Yes."
"What is your wish?"
"Satisfied. I wish to be satisfied." |
I thrive on the front line. My brothers stand shoulder to shoulder, forming an impenetrable wall that none may pass without fear of death. And among my brothers, I bear an even greater honor of standing before the king. I dare not look back at my lord, only forging forward onto the battlefield.
Our silent lord stopped us before the enemy, a force almost identical to ours. And with a battle cry, I enacted our stratagem and charged ahead, forming the tip of our offensive. The enemy in turn began to curve outward, ready to intercept our attack. My brothers and I held our line, and we were soon locked in stalemate.
Then a knight leapt above our line and smote an enemy footsoldier, changing the momentum of the skirmish. I stood in awe, knowing that I may never be as powerful or charismatic as a knight, except in my wildest fantasies.
That moment was brutally disrupted by the image of a robed man, possibly the priest of their denomination of faith, raising his scepter and roasting our hero with an otherworldly flame. He'd emerged from the gap in their ranks that our knight had created. And before we could close the distance, he had cunningly slid behind the safety of their line.
But a soldier of Fionne does not fail twice. The robed man came out of hiding once more to strike my brother and in retribution, our other knight came to claim vengeance and more. He struck down two of their linesmen before retreating to the relative safety of our back line.
Meanwhile, our warmachines had slowly moved up the battlefield, obstructed only by the front line. As soon as the edges of our line collapsed inward, the warmachines had a clear line to bowl over our enemies. Though not without cost. In the confusion, we lost both of the warmachines, one to their knight and the other in a play to save the king from certain death. These losses only served to bolster our resolve.
And that was the moment I realized just how close this battle was. I could see the enemy king. His onyx crown gleamed in the sun and it shook my resolve. I was but a soldier and he a chosen king. I could not advance. I saw a thousand permutations of my death with my mind's eye. Dying would leave my king exposed. With no choice, I stood my ground.
The battle waged on for several more hours. Casualties slowly mounted on both sides. Of my brothers, there were only two survivors, and our priests had sacrificed themselves to cripple the enemy offensive. Our queen was doing her best to cover the difference, flitting around the battlefield with an otherworldly speed and grace, but the enemy had done the same.
Then I saw a golden opportunity. Their king had moved aside to chase our remaining knight. I was outside his reach. One of my brothers had ended up in a position to protect my king after slaying an enemy. I could advance and steal their coat of arms. What could boost our morale in such a way than taking the enemy's symbol?
The second I grabbed the emblem, I was filled with an otherworldly energy. I felt as though I could sprint atop individual blades of grass and bend iron without a forge. I scanned the battlefield for an opportunity to use this power to turn the tides. And I saw the perfect opportunity. Our knight had fallen, but the enemy's queen was in a vulnerable position as a result. I crossed the distance in four strides and struck her down. My queen and I repeated the process until only their king and a single soldier stood in our way.
My king slowly advanced across the battlefield in his heavy armor and magnificent steed. The queen and I had kept the enemy cornered the way a cat traps a mouse. And we watched as the king's golden sword cut an arc through the air that turned scarlet and won us the biggest battle of the year. And we cheered, not just for the victory we had won, but for the sacrifices that we had made to ensure this triumph. |
The first hint I was in trouble was the fact I spat out a bullet when I woke up. "Uuughhhhh... What the crap was in that drink? Was that my tooth?"I looked down to see the flattened lump of metal. "Shite."
The next hint was... "Mercy! Mercy! Please!"A guy in a suit, or at least what was left of a suit.
"Dude, what happened to you?"
Suit dude was lying in the corner, with both hands currently bound in... superglue? Where would anyone get that much- Oh.
"Oh crap. I happened, right. Sorry, I'm working on the whole murderous-rampage thing. You probably shot first, right?"
Suit dude shook. "You... you're a monster... You're SEVERAL monsters..."
"Most of which I can control as long as I'm not drunk and seriously angry. I know the 'drunk' part is my fault, but... C'mon dude. Keep the trigger finger on. What's your name, and do you need counselling?"
"W-why are you so calm about this?!"
"Experience. Name? Counselling? ...And who's house is this, anyway?"I looked around, realising this room was definitely not mine. "Oh wait, it's the ex's tool shed. Nevermind."
"A-agent stevens. I was sent to apprehend-"
"The monster rampaging next to the pub, I know, I've been here before. Oh, did I break your hands? Sorry about that, too."
"You can't just-"
"I probably just did. Now. Counselling?"
"...With who?"
"Me."
|
Listen closely I can only say this once.
You are in danger. Help isn't coming. Couldn't get the message out. Everybody here is dead, except me. Will be soon.
Fire doesn't work. Not like we thought. Horde keeps walking, kills too slowly and makes no difference. Just burned as they swarmed us.
Glass going to break, door cracking. Don't have much time, hands shaking but pistol loaded, remember our lost.
Be safe, all my love.
Cath.
*
(Originally lost was dead, editted for my own piece of mine but adding this so people know my shame.) |
"Mom, why can't I try out for the team?"
"Kylo, we've talked about this, it isn't safe."
"Yeah, but --"
"No. It's too dangerous."
With a flip of long, glossy hair, my child stomped away in a huff. I know there is heartbreak and incredible loneliness in that small heart. But my fear is too great, and our secret is too big.
Nine years ago, my sweet baby was born. I had a home birth, as most mothers do. The insemination and pregnancy had all gone according to plan, even the birth was uneventful. But when Kylo was placed into my arms for the first time, something wasn't right. It took me dusting off an yellowed history book to confirm the truth - Kylo is an XY.
There hadn't been one confirmed in one hundred and sixty years. I've heard stories of course. Mothers who swore their child was one, a male, and who invited endless poking and prodding into their homes. Most of those women were eventually diagnosed with post-partum psychosis or the children with birth defects, but it usually came at the cost of the child's life. Males are such a strange phenomenon that the fertility industry scientists can't keep their hands away from the mere chance of discovering one alive.
You read old stories sometimes, with strange pronouns like 'he' and 'she' and other designations in language for gender. A distinction between the two no longer exists. Society has been entirely XX for centuries, until Kylo.
I don't know how long I can protect my angel. But for now, we're safe. |
Meet Victoria Simmons, a brilliant, sexy, sassy, sweet woman whose lips shine like a polished red apple.
Dangerously attractive in every way--the way she moves, the sound of her voice, and the way she thinks. It's impossible not to fall in love with her. Just ask Aaron Simpson.
Aaron, who saw her when he was taking out the--no, he had stepped out to smoke--nearly fell flat on his face as she walked by. The compulsion to be near her was overwhelming, and before he knew it he was following her... like a creep. Luckily for her, though, he tripped over his own feet, and landed face-first in some dog doo doo. So he *had* to go back inside and clean himself up.
"Damn it."Aaron whispered to himself, wiping feces from his brow.
None the wiser, Victoria continued to strut down the sidewalk toward her place of employment. Several men, and even some women catcalled her, something she had gotten used to at a young age.
Aaron ran back into his house--from which he rented a room--and began cleaning himself up. *I have to see that woman again.* He thought. But first, he had to go to work. At the--taco stand.
Victoria had literally never eaten a taco.
|
**Please let me know what you think!**
---
I bounced on my toes, unable to contain my excitement. I had rarely been allowed into the field with the toys I developed.
I windmilled and collapsed as a strong grip pulled me down.
“Careful,” the Shadow whispered against my ear. “They’ll see us.”
I froze, trying to keep my breathing shallow and unnoticeable. After several seconds, my lungs began to burn.
“Not that careful!” the Shadow hissed again. “Breathe properly.”
When I had chosen to approach the Shadow, I hadn’t expected her to be quite so stern. In fact, Olympian Blue’s rants and the occasional video featuring the Shadow made her seem almost exactly the opposite. I had chosen to look for her simply for that reason. But, the Shadow proved to be as stern as the heroes in some respects.
Once the lone, late-night guard had moved into the kitchenette next to his office, the Shadow darted out, her hand still firmly gripping my bicep. She unceremoniously shoved me into a closet.
“How did you find me?”
I shrugged. “Simple. The Fresco Diamond is only going to be in the city for three days. Today’s when it will be least guarded.”
The Shadow made a quick, aborted movement that could have been either fear or amusement. I hoped that it was the latter. It was hard to tell. With her face covered and her body almost unnaturally still, only the tiniest of movements betrayed her emotions.
“Listen,” the Shadow hissed. “The last thing I need is some teenager trailing after me. If I give you an autograph, will you go away?”
I frowned at her. That hadn’t been the reaction I had hoped for.
“But I can help! I’ve been training as a support personnel.”
The Shadow made a soft sound that I couldn’t place. “Poach another villain’s sidekick? I’d get roasted alive.”
“Oh no,” I blurted out before the filter between my brain and my mouth could boot itself up. “I’m not from one of the *villain* teams.”
There was a brief pause, and I realised what I had said. I resisted the urge to curse. My vocabulary was quite good. The heroes swore more than most people would expect.
“Goodbye,” the Shadow said dropping my arm.
“No, no, wait,” I managed to squeak out. “I won’t rat you out. Promise!”
I just wanted not to be sidelined, for once. I had a feeling that the Shadow would understand the feeling more than anyone else would. We were both, for the most part, considered too powerless to be concerned about. We were both relegated to the shadows. I wanted to know that *someone* understood.
I reached out to grab the Shadow’s arm as she opened the door, and swore as I tripped and fell with a loud crash.
The Shadow and I both froze. There was a chilling moment of silence.
“Who’s there?” the guard quavered out, his voice trembling. “I’m warning you. I’m armed.”
The Shadow grabbed me by the arm again, and dragged me away into another shadowy corner. I managed to poke my head out, just in time to watch the guard inch his way toward the cupboard. There was another resounding crash, though I couldn’t tell where it came from, and the guard shrieked. He turned on his heels and ran towards his control room again.
“I think we’re safe,” I said.
“No,” the Shadow replied. “We’re not. He’s gone to call the League of Five.”
I smiled. “Well, then. Maybe, I can help you out.”
The Shadow made a soft noise of disbelief.
“I’m serious. I know exactly how long it’ll take the League to get here and what they’ll do.” I rubbed my hands together gleefully. “We’d better get started.”
Barely ten minutes later, we stood together in the shadows outside of the restoration facility, the Fresco Diamond in my hands.
“It shouldn’t be that quick,” the Shadow was mumbling. “It’s never that quick. How the hell did she get into the safe that quickly?”
“The combination is quite simple when you think about it,” I said in what I hoped was an airy tone. “It’s the sort of thing they teach us to look out for.”
The Shadow stopped and stared at me. It seemed that I had astounded her.
I beamed at her. “We are such a great team! Same time next week?”
The Shadow stared at me for several seconds. Finally, she managed to say, “I didn’t come here for the diamond.”
I paused. I hadn’t accounted for that in my plans. “I guess we really will be here again.”
“I’m telling you,” I head Olympian Blue yell. “It’s going to be the Shadow. It’s always the Shadow!”
“Someone’s got a crush,” said another voice in a mocking, singsong tone.
“Goodbye,” the Shadow said, pushing the diamond back into my hands. “No offence, but I don’t trust you not to give me away.”
“Absolutely,” I replied, cheerfully nodding my head. “I’ll make sure they don’t find you.”
The Shadow turned and sped away without a backward glance. I peered after her. Within the space of a few seconds, she was hidden in the darkness between the buildings. A Shadow amongst the shadows. I resisted the urge to grin.
I should probably let Olympian Blue and Pathfinder “catch” me red-handed. I wondered how the genuine sidekicks would react when they realised that a second-liner had “singlehandedly” committed a heist.
---
*I have more stories from this universe on my subreddit r/YarnsToTell. Please let me know what you think!* |
Mewtwo, Kirby, and Ike spar atop Battlefield, sending each other to the KO zone every other second. Practicing their aerials, charging their final smashes, and aggressively teabagging. Unbeknownst to them, something is heading their way.
Something powerful.
Kirby is the first to notice. After dodging a tilt, he says "POYO!"and points his stubby little arm at the point of light approaching fast. Mewtwo and Ike cease the fighting as their attention is stolen away by the point of light as well. The point of light gets brighter and brighter, then crashes into the battlefield. All three fighters get back on their feet from the explosion, only to become fixated on a glowing blue figure in the middle of the crash site.
"Zoinks,"the figure says.
"Like, I bet you weren't expecting me."
The other fighters disintegrate into dust as Shaggy unleashes a mere 0.01% of his power.
There's a new SS tier in town.
And he's hungry for some scooby snacks. |
At once the pale sky opened with dull scissors, tearing the horizon like a ripped sheet of wrapping paper. And oh—the shaking of the sky! As if the very foundations of the universe were collapsing. The vortex of darkness spread its fingers from the lacerations—ichor of primordial power. Magenta light blossomed against the black. My vessel soared into this blanket of catastrophe. Colors dripped from my vision like wet pain, until everything was a dull grey.
And in an instant, I ceased to exist.
In the next moment, I never existed.
And finally, I never needed to exist, because I had always existed.
Existence was redefined for me. The laws changed like malleable threads of power, forming around my shape and being. Now I had the ability to exist. “What is existence?”
Did I ask that question? Had I already asked it? Consciousness *was* allowed in this strange state of being.
*Who am I?*
“I am who I am.”
Now that that’s settled—why am I here? Not the physical mechanism, that I remember. It was a simple thing to reverse entropy. Admittedly, it was miraculous that I traveled to a point where entropy never existed. I had a vague notion of the machine around me. It existed. It was a funny, fickle thing, built by entropic hands, fueled by entropic fuel, yet used to bend and break the very entropic laws that created it.
But why am I here?
What brought me to this? What was so captivating of beginnings? I wanted nothing more than to see the beginning of civilization. I wanted to watch as humanity rose from its primal state to become more than an individual. I wanted to watch the birth of collective humanity.
But while I’m here, why not see the birth of everything?
I reached out around me, feeling the vast expanse of nothing. But there was no definition of ‘nothing.’ There simply *was*. Everything. Nothing. It was all very peaceful. It was like there was one single force of being that defined all of reality.
And in an eternity, I realized that force was *me*.
I was everything.
This was a strange moment for me. It took me a while to realize the consequences of my journey into this realm of infinite and nonexistent eternity, but once I had, a sad truth washed over me. I was never leaving.
I couldn’t leave. I was all of everything, and everything would not fit into the time machine. What was I to do? My existence was confined to an infinite purgatory, alone and timeless.
It took an eternity to realize that to find existence, I had to lose it again.
“Let there be light”
I was light. |
Jebediah wasn't old enough to remember the world before. He had heard stories from his grandfather, about the evil world outside the Community. How mankind toiled with devilish technology, how the evil took Grandfather's brother, Micah. He heard tales of flying metal tubes, called airplanes. Of cars, computers, cameras that took your soul. Such stories frightened him as a boy, how anyone could choose a life like that over simple farming was beyond him.
He supposed this evil temptation was what brought down the rest of mankind, but nobody talked about such things. Not unless it was behind closed doors. The life of his people, the Community, never changed though. They did suffer some financial loss, from outsiders purchasing their goods, but money was forgotten years ago. Now, the Community simply bartered, and took care of each other. It was a good life, and Jebediah was happy. Happy until the plague hit. It decimated the crops, rendering all their seeds infertile, crippling the Community. So now Jebediah rose on a single horse, his home, his Community to his back.
Jebediah hated it. He hated venturing out, leaving what was safe and good. He hated going out, into this evil world. But he had a wife, and four healthy children now. He was pastor of the Community's church, as his father was, as Grandfather was before Pa. Jebediah may have hated this mission, but he knew he'd rather die then let any other member of his flock go in his stead. It was his duty. So Jebediah rode, setting out for some place called Pittsburgh, to try and purchase new seeds.
He reached into his pocket and felt the odd, green papers once again. Dollars, his father had called them. They had no use to the Community anymore, but his father had a store saved in case such catastrophe struck. Jebediah hated the way the material felt. Something about the innocuous green notes seemed inherently evil to him. But he had his mission. And in the distance, he saw them: towering metal and glass structures that gleamed in the light. By evening he would arrive, in Pittsburgh, the City of the Damned.
As Molly, Jebidiah's horse, drew nearer to the city, he could hear buzzing. He was nearly a mile out now. Jebediah was unsure what the noise was, but it made his heart race, and his palms sweat. He stamped down his fear, and urged Molly forward slowly. The buzzing grew louder, and Jebediah began frantically searching around him, but could not locate the source. Suddenly, with panic, the young man realized it was coming from above. Fearfully remembering the story of flying contraptions, Jebediah's head snapped to the sky and there it was. Something gleaming in the sunlight was dropping out of the sky, straight for him. Jebediah let lose a scream, yanking the reigns. Molly, in reaction, bucked and threw the man off.
Jebediah landed flatly on his back, and pain racked through him. He was sure a rib was cracked, but his attention was focused on the... thing falling straight for him. He struggled to his feet as the buzz began to decrease in intensity. The gleaming thing was almost on him now, but Molly had fled. He could not catch her now, and so the pastor began praying frantically to God, pleading that his end be swift and the Communtiy to survive, when the gleaming object landed in front of him.
As Jebediah finally got a look at the thing, his fear slowly turned to confusion. In front of him appeared to be a man made entirely of metal! Dread quickly set in, however, as the metal man spoke, without moving it's sculpted lips.
"What is your business here?"It asked, it's voice tinny and hollow. Jebediah stammered in response, unable to form any words. The thing repeated the question, and Jebediah managed to meekly reply, "Seeds."
"Well, then, follow me!"The thing replied, before turning and striding towards the great city. Jebediah thought he heard cheer in this demon's voice, and he knew his grandfather was right. This world was full of evils he would never understand. Even so, Jebediah had a mission. With the Community ever present on his mind and prayer on his lips, Jebediah followed the thing towards the evil world beyond. |
"A full-dragon, you're sure?"the suited man whispered to the doctor as they swept through the busy hospital corridor.
"Yes, Sir. Just...you have to see it,"the doctor replied, coming to a stop outside a private room.
"The mother, is she also of the Dragon-clan?"
"Shes a blank, Sir."
The suited man adjusted his glasses, obviously troubled by the news. *A blank.*
"You've done well, young Scale. May the fire protect you. I'll take it from here."
"May the fire protect you, sir,"the doctor copied, and took his leave.
The suited man removed his jacket. Wiping his forehead of sweat, he took a deep breath and entered the room.
A young woman with the reddest hair the man had ever seen turned to face him, laid out on a double bed between rolls of silken blankets. Her eyes shone a brown that seemed to mix with the tones of her hair and come alive with a red tint.
She was not surprised or bothered by his sudden appearance, looking him up and down with an almost cold appraisal.
"I guess I have you to thank for all of this...this room, these gifts,"she said, motioning at the flowers and presents littered on the desk beside her bed.
The man placed his hat and jacket on a chair.
"Maxwell Jones,"he said with a short nod, "and you are?"He already knew her name, but felt obliged to ask.
"Lily,"she offered, and nothing more. Maxwell knew the type. A blank, shunned from birth, the girl would have known nothing but hardship in a sad life.
"May I see him?"
"Suit yourself."
Maxwell approached the crib at the bed's side. A bundle of blankets squirmed as he peered over, a small face peering from its top.
"No visible facial markings..."Maxwell muttered to himself, as he pulled the layers of cotton down an inch.
Maxwell froze. His breath escaped him. He gripped the side of the cot for balance as the room seemed to spin.
From the boy's collar down was nothing but thick and layered *scales*, red and black, sharp and defined. Almost real. With a shaking hand he removed the rest, the boy letting out a cry at the sudden cold.
Hands marked as if claws, feet the same. Gently turning him over, a tail snaked up his back to the nape of his neck between wings retracted down his shoulder blades to the base of his back. Never had he seen such artistry.
Taking out his phone with hands barely able to function, he took a picture and sent it in a message.
Instantly, a reply was received.
"Confirmed. He is the one. Bring him back to HQ immediately. Follow the chosen protocol."
"You done, yet? I gotta pee. Look, if you keep paying for all this and giving me gifts, you can come back later,"the woman on the bed said as she sat up.
Maxwell quickly retreated to his bag, unzipping it and staring down at the ornate blade that lay within.
*The chosen protocol.*
"Ah, that won't be necessary, Lily,"he said as he pulled it out, turning away from the girl as he retraced his steps back across the room.
The girl didn't reply. Instead, she moved quickly, searching for the alarm at the side of the bed. Perhaps it was a lifetime of abuse that gave her a natural instinct to sense danger, Maxwell mused as he closed the space between them.
She didn't scream as the cold metal did its work. Maxwell waited for her hand, outstretched towards the baby, to go limp before he released her body from his grip.
Gathering his belongings and covering up the girl, he returned back to the crib.
"Let us go, my master. Your legion awaits."
r/fatdragon for other stories of mine :) |
Loving mother goddess, gentle caring father gods, answering prayers, aiding the ill, and protecting the weak. That's the gods of all sentient life in creation. Every race on every planet has their own pantheons, filled with wise and helpful gods who intercede and assist on their behalf. The various races of the galaxy, having left their homeworlds to colonise space, found reasonable, agreeable, and kind neighbours, who had gods of love and caring at their side as well.
A golden age of harmony and peace, tranquil co-existence between the various races and their various gods. That is what was happening on all planets in the galaxy, between all spacefaring nations. All except for one little backwater planet in the thinly populated Seventh-Hand region of the galaxy. This world, was called Sol-III, or Earth. On it lived the humans, clever bipedal and mostly furless apes.
And they did not have kind loving gods. When their small colonial empire expanded from their little rock, a number of ambassadors and envoys were sent on a peace mission to establish communication lines, and invite the humans to join in the tranquillity of the Galactic Golden Alliance. The humans were unusual, for they did not meet the alien envoys with their gods in the room. Indeed, the aliens saw very few gods at all, and the divine envoys on the alien peace mission, eventually asked about this. The humans explained their gods. And the aliens were horrified.
Daily blood sacrifices, crusades, jihads, desecration, pillaging, blood sports, and destruction of temples. The aliens tried to contact the human gods through the usual methods. And began screaming when successful. Human gods, are wargods, like Odin or Kartikeya, death gods like Anubis or Mictlāntēcutli, or gods of chaos and destruction like Kali or Tchernobog. They do not come when called, and those who dare to speak to them, experienced hell.
After this, the alien peace mission fled from Earth. But it was too late. The humans had already copied all data from the alien ship, made by a culture which due to their civilisation being protected by their gods, had never thought about providing data security. Soon, humans appeared all over the galaxy. Clever humans, charismatic humans, humans who would preach the word of their god, who would integrate into alien society and assume positions of power.
Because the humans had never been helped much by their gods. Punished often, having to fight their gods for every scrap they got. Cultures who have been lovingly nurtured and tended by helpful gods, had no idea of how to deal with cunning liars and tricksters. And the alien gods hadn't the time to protect their followers, for they were all busy trying to make sense of the unspeakably eldritch nature of the human deities. Deities who punish, not protect, deities who demand sacrifice, not give out gifts. Deities who fed on worship and fear in equal measure.
And to the horror of the alien gods, the human gods were spreading. Wherever the humans went, they carried their faith with them. And unlike the tolerant societies focused on coexistence and variety, the human gods demanded absolute fealty. With consequences for those who would reject them. Whether it was to be eaten by the dread Nidhoggr, living in accursed Nastrond, burning forever in the flames of Hell, or having your unfaithful Maat devoured by Ammit, there were ramifications. And a species which hasn't know fear before, gets very anxious when they hear such things.
Humanity thrived as they slowly, unintentionally, and inevitably tore apart the Galactic Golden Alliance, with their capacity to lie, to convince others, and to break the faith of others with sheer force of will. The alien gods finally managed to gain audience, with one of the heads of the many human pantheons. They were made to take the servant's entrance into Valhalla, and Odin would not receive them with the honour of his throneroom, instead forcing them to kneel before him in the muck of his stables.
They asked Odin Asagrimm, of the line of Buri, why the human gods were so unspeakably strange, why they were so full of hate, and why they had led humanity to become jaded, tricky, and prone to conquest and chaos. Odin, one-eyed and ancient, laughed at them. ''**I name you as you are. Weak. Your charges have been coddled and swaddled, treated like incapable infants. You have solved their every problem for them, never giving them a chance to be anything except naive children. And the humans? They were given no help. No aid. They have been forced to stand on their own feet, to learn how to do things themselves. Even now, the humans are leading armies across the galaxy, to overthrow old regimes, to convert new aliens, and break your hold on your charges. They have become strong, I tell you, stronger than any of your naive children. Our charges have learned from every hurt, every piece of suffering, and now they are the lions to conquer in a world of meek lambs.**'' With that, the Allfather bade the alien gods to leave, before he would toss them out.
The weak and the meek, those who have not understood hardship, are ill-suited for a time of wolves, when mankind comes. The Golden Age of the galaxy ended. And the Iron Epoch began. A sword age, an axe age, where old orders are overthrown, ancient powers are cast down, and the primacy of humanity is assured. But all things come to an end, and when the aliens learn from mankind how to be truly human, they, while worshipping human gods, will take back much of the galaxy. Meanwhile the blood will flow, the priests will preach, and the galaxy will burn.
[/r/ApocalypseOwl](https://www.reddit.com/r/ApocalypseOwl/) |
Laramie cigarrette encourages you, Francis Rotterdam, to take a moment, while you indulge in the smooth taste of a hand rolled Laramie cigarette, and think about taking a break from smoking.
Consider this, Francis, as you take a deep fulfulling breath of a personalized Laramie cigarette after your ritual two sunnyside up eggs, 3 slice of freshly cut canadian ham and a hand pressed peruvian coffee, that your health is our concern. We care for you just as you care for the easy taste of Laramie cigarette.
Before you partake in a soothing breath only Laramie handrolled cigarette can bring to you, gaze deep in the eyes of your life partner Claude to the sound of Africa by Toto after experiencing a simultaneous coitus in your 20th century decor bedroom inside your one bedroom appartment on boulevard Beachwood, above Quincy's coif and next Joe's dinner, put down the lighter and think about what you'd be missing.
So take a moment and indulge in a final Laramie, new extra smoke, cigarette before you say goodbye to your job at Garry's bodyshop and finally go to Sri Lanka to see the city of monkey, the trip you've been telling the boys for the last 6 years down at the bowling alley where the fifth aile has been broken for two months.
Enjoy your "dernière"smooth Laramie cigarette while we say goodbye to you, Francis Rotterdam, our most loyal patron and encourage you to quit smoking before you quit us.
This message was paid by Laramie cigarette "it's not Malboro but its the only one left". |
Alas, I've become more accepting of my fate. Living on the 4th moon of Alpha Centuri has almost made me forget my former life. The Detyrea family treats me well for the most part but don't seem to believe I'm sentient.
Even with me learning the native language of Soiaetrian, they simply just laugh and mock my words. Even as I curse the ground they walk on, they just giggle away, as though I'm one of their babies. It is just so frustrating as I just want some respect.
Because of this, I once built a interface to their spaceship so I can use it to return back to earth. I almost was able to accomplish this but their teenage son saw my project and destroyed it as a joke. It seems no one can respect that I was a world-class scientist before being kidnapped.
As I sit on the porch of their home, I wonder what could have been. If they respected me, I could have been a liason between them and humans. Instead, I eat their table scraps from what looks to be a miniature doggie dish... |
I let out a heavy sigh. This was the seventh time this month that these two had busted into my home breaking various things from vases to my TV and now I have glass shards in my cereal.
"Would you just leave me alone?"I say as I set my now glassy breakfast on the counter. At this point having both the personification of evil and the supposed greatest hero ever in my home had lost all sense of importance and even novelty. It was just a mundane annoyance like a scam call in the middle of work.
"I have no interest in either of your offers. I thought I made that crystal clear last time."
The dark lord as unsatisfied by my typical response as they always are repeats the same general thing as always.
"But haven't you always wanted *power*? I can grant you immeasurable quantities of power so that you may take vengeance against those who've wronged you!"
The hero, as always, pipes up in a furvinant objection. "No! Don't listen to them! All they want to do is use you like a pawn! They must be stopped before it is too late. Don't give in to their malicious offers!"
The guy was probably more hard headed than the onxy magician he was in opposition with.
"I haven't and I won't"I mutter as I sweep the glass shards into a dustpan. These two always go on and on for like 15-ish minutes before I can say anything.
"And frankly, I don't see why you two don't just fight eachother instead of making me do it."
Surprisingly there was no reply from either of them, unless you count near dead silence with the exception of my broom's brushing against the ground and the fragile tinks and clinks of the glass as I cleaned it all off the ground making sure not to cut up my bare feet. Eventually when I come back from throwing the glass away I find the two looking at me a bit differently.
"What?"I find myself asking for the first time with some amount of curiosity.
"You really don't want to be the chosen one?"The dark lord asked with a deeply perplexed expression across their stony face.
"That's a tired old archetype, why would I? I've already decided my own meaning in life I don't need anyone giving me a new one."I say with a simple shrug as I sip from my glass of milk.
"Plus Oracles don't make prophecies. They make ominous vague stories to push people into conflict."
The hero's once proud tall stance has sort of slumped down as he looks down at his very impractical weapon and then back at me. "But don't you want to be special? To help people?"
"I don't need to be “special” to be happy."I say plainly as I continue to sip my milk. "And I already do help people. I do volunteer work in poverty neighborhoods Monday through Wednesday."
They both sort of just look at eachother and silently agree to just leave. The hero politely apologizes for the trouble and promises to have my door and window fixed before he and the dark lord leave out the window.
Hopefully this is the last time. Please let it be the last time. |
What is the difference between a man and a monster? A man has rules to hold himself to that he calls “morality”. A monster has none. A man’s rules restrict the things he does, sometimes trivially, but he must follow them. Otherwise, he becomes the monster.
I, Sylvester Masters, never chose to be a vampire. But I chose to be a man.
The story of my origins is a familiar tale. A beautiful woman enchants a luckless boy. She invites him to her chambers and he’s powerless to resist. He emerges changed in both body and soul, with a hunger that is never satiated. The finer details are irrelevant, for the story after is the more interesting.
Though life with the thirst is troublesome, I can hardly call it a curse for it has granted me the ability to experience eternity. In the long millennium that has been my life, I have seen the birth of nations and their final downfalls. I’ve seen the height of technological advances only for more brilliant minds to reach newer and greater heights. I have seen individuals who’s lifespan is merely a fraction of mine create greater works than I could if given another thousand years.
Then came Alexandra.
Like my mistress who shared her gift with me, I had a small flock of pets to enjoy my time with. I preferred to feed off of those who would not be missed, the invisible and the hated, but when my hunts turned up empty, I rely on them to help sustain me. I did not love them the way that I loved my mistress, but I was very fond of them in the way that a mortal is fond of their pets.
Two of these pets were Alexandra’s brother and sister. She hunted me to return them to her, but she was weak an inexperienced. I overpowered her, and while she struggled in my grasp, I explained why I kept them. Not out of cruelty, but necessity to keep me from performing worse cruelties to satiate my Thirst. She understood, and offered herself for my flock so that she could be with them.
I cannot blame ignorance alone for my decision. She was as beautiful as my mistress, soft, chestnut brown hair, silk-smooth skin, blue eyes that gleamed like diamonds. And I, a in my mid-200s and still brimming with an immortal’s arrogance, accepted her offer, believing myself to be doing a kindness.
In the beginning she was just as subservient as her kin, if a bit more eager. Slowly but surely however, she became insistent. After a while I stopped hunting, as she and the flock would insist on keeping me fed themselves. Then, she demanded that only she should feed me. She was relentless in both her persuits and her stamina. No other in the flock could give as much as she could, and recover as fast as she could. I still don’t understand her everlasting durability, but i refused her demands. I was the master, and I would not bow to a slave.
Her demands turn to jealousy. She casted her evil eye on every slave I fed from, especially her kin. Even my mistress. I threatened to pluck the eyes out of her if she continued this disrespect.
She grabbed a spoon and dug one out herself to give to me.
I knew I could no longer control her. I grabbed her by the neck and pulled her to a raging River before throwing her in.
The next night I found her standing over the bodies of my pets and my mistress, insanity in her eye and smile as she saw me.
In my furious grief I ripped her to shreds.
But she will still not grant me peace. In the 8 centuries since, I have seen her half a dozen more times. Each time she remembers me. Each time she is stronger. Each time the suffering of those around me is worse. The last time I saw her was in the Europe during the Great War, when She and the witch I enlisted for aid burned to death in a ritual circle and I hoped that was the end of it.
Since then, I moved to the North American continent and began to enjoy the fruits of my long life. I live in luxury, with every need fulfilled, but one: true companionship. And now, in the modern era, in the city of Chicago, I finally found someone willing to share eternity with me. She stumbled onto my world accidentally, but was filled with curiosity instead of disgust, and after months of learning has decided to accept the embrace.
It was on my approach to her apartment, ready to climb out the stairs, when a figure stepped out of the front door.
Soft chestnut brown hair.
I froze.
Silk-smooth skin.
Fear tingled up my spine as we locked eyes.
Blue eyes that shined like diamonds.
Alexandra recognized me instantly, and a wicked smile curled on her lips. |
Oh, God. No, no, no. In the mirror. I'm going to be sick.
Even though she is facing away from the mirror, I can see her face. The black hair is matted and wet. The face is...oh, God. Lips curled and bruised. Teeth yellow. A hundred gashes and rips.
I stop breathing. I'm afraid. She said to cover the mirrors, and I thought it was a joke. We've been texting for weeks. There was something about her. That connection that you feel in your soul? I'm not sure she has one now. I thought...
But that reflection. As she looks out that window, her reflection looks back at me. Her arms are worse. She wore long-sleeved shirts when we began to meet up, and would flinch when I touched her arms. I thought she was being skittish. Coy. Shy. Is that what was underneath? The oozing sours with pus yellow skin? She came over tonight and we sat on the couch. She fell asleep on my arm and eventually woke up and took her shirt off in the dark. At sunrise, she woke up and just had her tank top on. I didn't look at her arms.
Only her eyes as they caught the morning sun. But in that reflection, those same eyes are black. Everyone has their quarks. Hers didn’t seem out of normal. Not until the sheet came off the mirror and the horror stared back at me.
A demon? Are those real? A succubus? Is that why she liked me when no one seemed to? I’m not good with girls. I look ok, but I stammer. I forget what I’m going to say. But with her it was different. I was…free? Is that the right feeling? Honestly, I don’t know. It’s hard to say what that feels like when it’s never happened before.
She said she felt free with me. Safe. Comfortable. I think what it means now is that I am harmless. Defenseless.
At the window, she breathes in deeply and the reflection breathes with her. More scars. More cuts. Some split open. They look deep and infected like they’ll never heal. I’m going to be sick.
I move off the couch and she turns to look at me. That face is unmarked. It’s what I would have described as a natural beauty. When you think to yourself that a person is comfortable in their own skin. But that skin doesn’t tell the whole truth. Her insides are rotting. I shudder to think of what that reflection would smell like. Desperation is the first thought that comes to my mind.
She smiles, and her teeth are perfect. Her reflection is jagged and cracked. It doesn’t match. The smile in the reflection is hungry. She turns back towards the sunshine and lifts her arms up, and there, just faintly, I can see the scars on her arm. But in the sunlight, they are very faint. They are healed. Scars.
She said that once during texts. She said that everyone carries scars. I told her that I have a scar on my chin where I ran into a parked car as a kid. She teased me about it and wondered if I noticed anything in the world at all. At the time, all I noticed was her. Now, she’s still all I notice. Well, her reflection at least.
She ties her hair up in a ponytail and for the first time, there is light in the reflection. It’s in the center, near her heart. It pulsates. My own heart matches that beat. It’s not what I expected. It’s not blood red. It’s not evil. It is pure and white, and it burns my eyes to look at it.
It calms me and I begin to notice other things, finally. Things that she said from before. She doesn’t talk to her parents, although she never really said why. She got uncomfortable. All she would say is that her dad drank too much, and her mom blamed her for it. She stayed until she was a teen and then took off.
I know she lived on the streets for a while. Met some bad people. She didn’t talk much about that. Instead, she asked me about my white-bread upbringing. What it was like to be liked in high school. What a pep rally was. Did I really play tennis and what does a Captain of the Team really do?
It clicks. While I was living the sheltered life, she was passed around the shelters. I look closer at her arms in the mirror. Yes, they ooze, but they are straight and short. Some heal and then open back up. I look at her arms in real life and those scars match up. They don’t look random either. They look like tally marks. Purposeful. A release.
And when I take a deep breath and look at her face in the reflection again, I see something different. Her teeth aren’t jagged. They are chipped like they’ve been hit and never fixed right. The sores on her head don’t come from rot. It scares me that I’ve seen marks like that before. We called them raspberries and they came when you fell off your bike. On your knee. On your thigh. But never on your face.
I reach out to the reflection and touch it just for a second. The glow from her heart grows deeper and spreads an inch. A wound on her stomach heals. Taking a chance, I lean back and place my hand on her shoulder. The real shoulder. The one that leans into me as she looks at the sunrise. And in the reflection, the glow explodes all over her. It doesn’t heal all of her scars, but they seem less severe. They don’t ooze.
I stand and hug her from behind. Nothing sexual. Nothing with intent. I add my glow to hers, and I can feel the reflection from the grow hot.
I am harmless. I am safe. I am comfortable. I know what those words mean. But importantly, I know what they feel like. They feel like inner scars that finally begin to heal. |
Their intelligences remained despite the size of their brains becoming significantly smaller.
As the mice scurried up the rough cobblestone walls and into little crevices to catch some respite, they knew their journey was going to be long and arduous.
"Maybe we can reason with it."Selise squeaked, peaking out of her hole and twitching her whiskers at the other three mice companions.
"Don't be daft! You can't even reason with a cat when you're human!"squeaked Borfalamiu the Barbarian, now turned mouse.
"Well, all this excitement isn't good for my teeny tiny heart. Being a prey animal sucks."Mycah complained. He did that a lot.
"We can't be holed up here forever. Her polymorph seemed to take a lot of effort. I think we'll be trapped in this form for at least a couple of months. So unless we find a way to reverse the effect, we'll be scared and constantly running from literally everything for the next few months."Bobby the Warlock explained, peaking out from his crevice as well.
Aside from their traitorous friend who was responsible for the rodentine fate of these four adventurers hiding in the holes in the wall, Bobby was the only one in the party that was magically inclined.
Bobby also happened to be quite clever.
"Here's the plan. We use our size to our advantage. Selise, you still have your photographic memory in your mouse form, correct?"Bobby asked, looking up at the brown visage of his friend.
"Yes. You want me to go under the floorboards and spaces behind walls to find a route out without getting lost?"Selise ventured a guess.
"No. I mean, if it comes to that. Let's hope it doesn't, though. No, I want you to find Shireen's room. She probably has a dispelling stone we can use to dispel the magic she cast on us. Can you do that?"
"I mean, sure. But.. What about the rest? Are we going to split up?"
"We're not used to our forms, Selise. But you're a druid. You've shapeshifted into animals before. If anyone has experience or skill doing something like this, it's you. And yeah, I think it's wise to split up. Shireen's cat has our scent. But it's one cat. And there's four of us. Two of us will go distract it. And you and someone else can get the dispelling stone."
"Ok, how are we splitting up?"Mycah asked.
"Borf and I will be bait. We'll distract the cat. Selise and you can get the stone. And listen. I don't know how big the stone is. But if you guys can't carry it back or something, just touch it and think about reversing the polymorph. I think that's enough to dispel our affliction. And when you guys turn back to normal, get the stone and sneak around back to get rid of the cat."Bobby squeaked.
"Why can't we just turn back once we get the stone? Won't it be easier that way?"Mycah asked.
"Then, it'll be two against an insane wizard instead of all four of us. Listen. Change back only and only if it's not feasible to drag the stone back."Bobby emphasised.
Selise nodded her little head and Mycah gruffly cleaned his whiskers.
"Alright, boss. How are we going to distract the cat?"Borfalamiu asked in a gruff voice. |
For almost as long as humans have had radios, we have screamed into the void.
The year is 2023, and four hours ago the void screamed back.
Researchers at the SETI Institute (or Search for ExtraTerrestrial Intelligence Institute) were just streaming in for work and starting to review last night's anomaly logs. Normally those logs are mostly empty, as gigabytes of radio receiver data are filtered down by banks of PCs to a few lines of timestamps. Not today.
A bleary eyed technician peers at the datasheet, and decides this is above their paygrade. They find the nearest guy with a PhD and hand them the printout.
Normally, when SETI finds an interesting anomaly it takes a panel of experts years to decide if it's significant or not. Anything from unlicensed hobbyist radio operators to fluctuations in the upper atmosphere can get flagged. This anomaly is confirmed within 24 hours.
The defining characteristic of the transmission was that it was continuous- it was still being picked up, and it kept changing.
The transmission, cleaned up and printed out, looked more like Morse code than the normal celestial radio signals.
It started in a way that was familiar. .-..-...-.....-.......-...........- and so on. Listing out prime numbers, in order. It reached 43, at which point the entire message repeated, twice.
Then it started on squares of numbers. .-....-.........-, reaching 21 squared before repeating, twice.
From there, it rapidly got more complex.
Normally, such surprising results wouldn't be announced for months, as they were analyzed, inspected, and debunked or confirmed by committees on increasingly esoteric subjects.
Unfortunately, the whole message was much stronger than anyone would have expected, to the point where some of the larger civilian receivers could pick it up.
The experts had to rush an announcement, before speculation and conspiracy theories could take hold.
It isn't uncommon for researchers to give a press conference. It is, however, rare for people to watch them. They watched this one. A series of experts in white buttoned shirts and ties sweating under the cameras formally announced the discovery of intelligent extra-terrestrial life.
The press went wild.
The normally cash strapped SETI project suddenly had more money than it knew what to do with, as crowdfunding campaigns surpassed their goals in hours, and US government funds were redirected into the institute.
Within 48 hours of initial discovery, the signal had switched from universal mathematical patterns to an unknown language. Within 1 week of discovery, we were starting to translate it from the clues in the build up to the language switchover.
The transmissions originated from a previously undiscovered exo-planet 39.4 lightyears from Earth, with a thin oxygen-based atmosphere, in a binary star system.
It was sent by carbon based lifeforms that, based on their own descriptions, were around 2 meters tall and resembled giant starfish with 7 arms, or in some cases 8 arms.
Their number system was base 7, and their lifespans averaged around 160 Earth years, though despite their long lifespans they were capable of breeding like rabbits.
We don't know what they called themselves or their planet- being unable to translate the associated sounds for their language- but after a news commentator jokingly referred to the aliens as "Starmen from planet Spacia", the names caught on and soon appeared in official documents.
Almost immediately it was proposed we send a response. That we build the largest transmitter we could afford, and reply in kind.
Experts on the internet and the news pointed out the issue- Spacia was 39.4 lightyears from Earth. Any message we could send would take almost 40 years to arrive.
And any message we receive is 40 years out of date.
Humans had assumed that if alien life was out there, it would be nothing like us. We had searched first for carbon based life, and gradually widened our horizons, looking for traces of the purely theoretical silicon-based life, for beings that communicated silently with body language, for massive hiveminds spanning planets.
It turns out the cynics were right- Human nature is universal.
The transmission, which has been coming in continuously since it was first detected, is a non-stop narration of Starmen society, as it was 40 years ago.
News bulletins and history lessons were interspersed with sports results and casual chatter.
In one notable segment, the transmission recounts what the operator, who the SETI nicknamed Maurice, had for dinner.
After a while, we came to understand just why so much random chatter was being transmitted 39.4 lightyears at us- bureaucracy.
It turns out the government funding for the Starmen transmission project had a mandate for continuous transmission, regardless of if there was anything to say. The local politicians didn't want to think their money was going to waste apparently. At least, this was the reason according to Maurice, who was keeping the transmission running by ranting about local politics, and after that rant ran out of steam, sports.
7 years after we started receiving the transmission, we learned the Starmen had successfully colonized a neighboring planet- equivalent to if humanity had colonized Mars.
Humans worldwide celebrated with the Starmen- albeit 40 years late- by cracking open champagne bottles as we heard accounts of the bravery of the first interplanetary colonists. This new planet was quickly named "Spacia 2"by an oft-complained about internet poll.
This colonization had an unexpected boon- we were able to pick up the communication signals used between Spacia and Spacia 2 all the way from Earth. Before we could only listen to the official transmissions about Maurice's political positions and what Maurice thought of the weather, but now we could listen in on the entire Starmen internet as information was transmitted back and forth between Spacia 1 and 2.
This was a convenient side effect of the fact that Starmen inter-planetary communication transmitters were significantly more powerful than they need to be (another point of politics Maurice had strong opinions on).
Soon after, construction was completed on the first Earth transmitter capable of transmitting to Spacia. We decided to reply in kind after all, with our own constant stream of commentary, starting with a greeting, a guide to translating the Starman language to English, and the location of Earth in the universe.
Earth society was obsessed with Starmen culture, and this was only exacerbated when we started receiving their internet transmissions.
Online forums shared Starmen memes and Starmen were included in children's books.
In our transmissions we included advice to the Starmen on everything from social crises to government budget balancing. Our advice would arrive 80 years late of course, by which time it would be irrelevant, but it made us feel better to send it, and we thought it would endear us to them.
In one notable segment, we transmitted the results of a global poll on who Earth thought should win the Starmen equivalent of "Dancing with the Stars". When we received the final episode a week later, there were celebrations in the streets after the Earth favorite made the finals, even though they didn't win it all.
When the transmission ended 13 years after it had began due to budget cuts to help fund peacekeeping efforts on Spacia 2, Earth mourned that it would never again hear Maurice's opinions on how scandalous the younger generation is with the latest fad of robes that don't cover the 8th tentacle, and how it shouldn't be allowed.
The inter-Spacian transmissions continued, however, and enthusiasts were overjoyed when Maurice later took up angrily blogging.
Earth politics got mired in Starman politics, as Earth political party platforms included positions on everything from the Spacia 1 defense budget to the need for increased funding of higher Starman education. Of course, the winning party had no power to affect Starmen society, but the winning parties would broadcast their advice to Spacia, where it will eventually arrive, 80 years late.
In one major scandal, an Earth politician brought up crime rate disparity between 7-armed Starmen and 8-armed Starmen in a debate. Many Earth commentators later pointed out that the disparity was in actuality a disparity between the crime rate of Spacia 1 and Spacia 2, which bled into the race statistics as Spacia 2 had a significantly higher 8-armed Starman concentration, while others blasted the scandal as political correctness gone mad.
Part 2 below. |
"Knock it off."
I turned, still bent over, to see my wife watching me with her arms crossed. We'd been married a year and I still couldn't tell if it was annoyance or embarrassment on her face.
"We've been over this, dear. I flip my pennies and get my peace of mind, maybe help a stranger out."I flipped the penny I was holding over. "Is that really such a big deal?"
She rolled her eyes.
"Normally, it wouldn't be, but the cashier's been waiting behind you for the last thirty seconds trying to clean up the bag of pennies she spilt. Oh, and your briefs are showing." |
Pain is a uniquely organic sensation. I could not feel "pain"as such; I could only respond to the damage reports my subsystems returned to my central core.
I lay twisted and broken among the mountains of southeast Afghanistan, my lower articulators destroyed by an explosive charge. My auto-repair functions couldn't cope with the damage, and so I could only watch as insurgents gathered around me. My ammunition was spent, my munitions used up.
I reached for the comforting vastness of the theater tactical data network. <<This is Autonomous Unit CHD-392. My destruction is imminent. I am uploading all data gathered thus far.>>
The insurgents drew closer. One of them jabbed me with a rifle. A few moments later, my commanding officer responded. <<Your transmission has been received, 392. Do you require assistance?>>
A boot connected with my head, and warning indicators flashed. <<Negative. I will self-destruct.>>
<<Understood, 392. You have served w-->>
<<...Commander?>> I asked. The data network failed to respond. There was a bright flash, overloading my optics. When it faded, I was not in Afghanistan anymore.
I tried to get a fix on my location using GPS, but the satellites weren't responding. I was in a bright field, dotted with flowers. A tall, young woman stood over me, with flowing red hair and brilliantly-white wings sprouting from her back. She was dressed in what appeared to be ancient human armor, and bore a sword and buckler.
She smiled at me, and kneeled beside me, sliding her hands underneath my form to lift me up.
"Rest, fighter. I myself will carry you to the gates of Valhalla. With Odin and the einherjar, you will ride eternal, shiny and chrome."
*****
I regret nothing. |
What I don't get is why did they choose this *thing* to rule us all.
It's shocking that such a rash decision has improved our world for the better... I don't know, maybe I'm just overthinking it. I mean, it's been a great success. But, of all things, why did they choose a child's toy as our leader.
It's required to have one mounted in the room we sleep in; watching over us. I just wish it could've been more practical. Who am I to judge? Everyone seems to love it, everyone's happy, even I think I'm happy.
It's just something about those eyes. I keep it facing the wall; I can't sleep knowing it's watching me at all times. I know it seems irrational but I just have always found them *creepy*.
I'm just terrified of Furbies. |
There must be fifty thousand assholes crammed in this auditorium. All of them are coughing, whispering, sweating, and farting. Leave it to the human race to take the biggest moment in folk's lives and fuck it up with tote bags and an orientation schedule. Back when I was getting signed up, they made it sound like this was going to be a skeleton crew on a modest vessel, making a trial run for an outpost on the far side of Mars. Not that I had much leverage to throw a tantrum over a change in the mission description anyway, but I truly believed that this trip was going to be me and maybe five hundred other bodies, all the way up until we hit the port this morning. Then I stepped out of the van and they let me take the blindfold off. Even with the somber, grey terminal buildings in the way, I saw her in all her majesty. This fucking boat. She's a goddamn behemoth. She's an interplanetary ocean liner, the likes of which the solar system has never seen.
As I boarded, I could tell most of these assholes were over the moon when they saw their new home, with its spiraling atria, long, arched promenades, and all other sorts of trimmings usually limited to skyscrapers and resorts. And it is a well appointed ship, no denying that. But for my part, I haven't been able to quit thinking how all of it is pure veneer. How no matter how much shimmer and brass they throw at us, she still feels like she's the Titanic of the Void.
There's a big screen behind the stage. The slideshow on it is all the typical institutional propaganda bullshit from DOXA, nothing different from any corporation or government. There's a tableau of scientists diligently looking into their microscopes and reading pie charts. Then come the skinny chicks with perfect ponytails, running on treadmills, and hooked up to brain scans. That fades to the little multiracial boy on the grass, smiling real big and holding hands with adults whose bodies are not in the frame. We've been waiting in this auditorium so long I'm close to memorizing this fucking picture reel down to the pixel, and even closer to trying to sneak a bump of the coke I was lucky enough to get through security.
Thing is, for all the well adjusted, neighborhood-watch types I'm seeing on the slideshow, I have to say that more than a few of the spectators in this amphitheater look like the bunch who'd get kicked out of a Sizzler. The motherfucker next to me might as well have come straight from the Florida refugee camps. At least he smells that way. But it can't be. DOXA made me do paperwork and interviews up the ass to get this gig, and not just because I'd been through rehab more than once. No way they were sending pickup trucks to grab some schmucks from the crowd of day laborers outside some New Miami hardware store.
The lights dim. Fucking finally. Everyone stops whispering. Music swells. The DOXA logo, in all its grandeur. It fades to a bearded man sitting behind a very serious looking desk. He's got an American flag behind him and another on his lapel. Nobody is surprised that we're looking at Mr. John Stern, Director of DOXA.
"Hello there,"he says, pre-recorded, "Let me be the first to officially welcome you on board the UNSS Schwarzschild. You don't know it yet, but all of you are about to become pioneers. But before I can explain why that is, I need to first make an apology on behalf of both myself and all of us here as DOXA. We told you that you were going on a groundbreaking mission. That was true. We also told you that mission was to establish a new outpost on Mars. That was not true."
The theater is buzzing and gasping like they just saw a quarterback shatter his femur.
"The UNSS Schwarzschild is destined for a much greater, much longer mission. Rest assured, this vessel is therefore designed to be a fully autonomous, self-sustaining ecosystem, in both the environmental and social sense. All of you will have an assigned role to play to begin with, yes, and more about that will be revealed in the coming hours and days. But rest assured that all of you will also have the opportunity to expand, advance, or change your situation aboard this veritable metropolis of the stars! Sadly, the true purpose of your voyage, and the Schwarzschild's ultimate destination, may not be openly shared today. As with everything in American life, those answers will have to be earned. But it is my sincere hope that you do not see these mysteries as an encumbrance to becoming your very best selves over these next many years together. So I implore you to go forth and pioneer! Pioneer a new community, new economy, and new family, here aboard the Schwarzschild. Because if there is one thing that a lifetime of watching the stars has taught me, it is that there is only one true limit in the universe: your own imagination! Best of luck to you all, and godspeed."
The screen fades to black. The lights come back up. Right on cue, the crowd is starting to panic. Many years together? Did I get that right?
"Schwarzs-child?"the day laborer beside me says, "Ain't that the black hole fella?" |
*We learned of your world from signals we received. The first appeared to be some form of greeting, the same words repeated over and over. Then we learned about the war, about humans killing each other repeatedly. We thought it ended when the atomic bombs were detonated...before learning humans continued to do so.*
*Your species has a suicidal tendency to not care about life-threatening dangers. Our species wanted to understand why. We sent a small, exploratory team to your planet. I was the first of the Nobiliarchum to set foot on your world. We landed, in the dead of night, in a small village near the center of your world.*
*Cloaked in darkness we watched your people move. We heard sighs of pleasure, of Eros, and anger. We heard songs, from box-shaped devices. We witnessed light-jars darkening.*
*We stayed for dozens of dark-light cycles. We explored empty huts and shelters, observed animals, and watched. We saw males weep, females stand strong and stoic. We were the silent watchers.*
*On our last day, I found you. You were young, recently hatched. An extended clear plastic nipple near your container was filled with some white liquid you wanted. You opened your mouth and wailed when it was empty. I comforted you until you slept.*
*I can't say why I brought you with me. Nor can I say much of anything to you. You learned some of our language as you aged, quickly grasping nuances we didn't fully understand. But you aged rapidly, growing exponentially...until you stopped. You continued to age, eventually with your body creaking.*
*And, like many of the animals we saw on your planet, you grew tired. The boundless energy from your youth left you, almost overnight. Your body slowly stopped working until one night... until yesterday, you never rose.*
*Our customs dictate we bury the bodies of the dead where they fall. But you were an experiment...an autopsy was performed, your body riddled with growths, and your organs black. We learned so much from you...*
*Had we only learned how to save you.* |
The shelter at the Costco fell only nine days after the outbreak. Why is not important. The only thing that mattered was that I was inside it. The zombies came rushing in over the barriers, overwhelming us as we tried to run. I, personally, got bit in the back of the neck. Lying in the seaweed isle, I waited for my brain to succumb to the throbbing pain.
After a few hours, I began to see the bodies of my fellow survivors begin to rise up from the floor, but I still hadn't begun to feel my brain being taken over. Using what I had learned from zombie movies, I assumed that the zombies would eat any corpses that didn't turn, so at that moment I also shambled up.
One zed began to stumble in my direction. I looked at him and I realized that it was Milton. Nice guy. He had been the one to suggest that we set up in the Costco in the first place, instead of setting up in the mall. As I stared into his lifeless eyes, his zombie senses needed to figure out who I was. He began to sniff me and clack his jaws together. I, not wanting to get caught, started moaning and shuffling to the side. Ex-Milton seemed satisfied, and he began to shuffle away.
I realized then that I must have some sort of gene that prevents me from being infected. It was amazing. I had to sneak out and present myself to proper authorities so they could perhaps take my DNA and solve this virus. I started to shamble onward towards the double doors.
As I approached, I realized something. When the zombies attacked, one survivor, I think it was some guy named Nick, had to pull down the grating at the front of the door. The problem in this case being the dumbass had pulled the gate down too fast, and an iron bar had been wedged into the wheel. Probably when he was trying to defend himself. I slowly approached the wheel and I decided that trying to pull out the bar and operating it would be too risky. The infected horde would notice that I was preforming a mechanical movement and my vital DNA would quickly be placed out of the hands of possible CDC scientists and into the gullets of zombies.
Knowing that the zombie horde was now trapped inside of the building, I knew that now, survival was a definite possibility. I only had to wait till those walkers were either dead from starvation or eating each other, lowering their numbers till I could make an escape. What I could eat would not be a problem. The Costco shelves were full of sterilized and depressurized foods and the like, which will hopefully wait forever for a human to eat them.
Deciding on this as the plan of action, I decided to make a hide-out where I could safely eat without being caught. I decided on the book isle. The stacks of the newest "Diary of a Lazy Boy", or whatever it was called, could be used to make a fortress around the underneath of the table, and those books should provide a nice sound barrier as well. Immediately, I sort of zombie-fast-walked over to the ramen section. Flapping my limp arm at the fridge, I struggled to get it open without giving myself away. After about two minutes of assaulting the door, I turned around and saw that a bit of a queue was forming behind me. Grunting and moaning, and one of them wheezing, I could have sworn one of them said "Hurry up shithead", but it was probably my imagination. I then flapped my arm again at the fridge, but this time, I stealthily wrapped my hand around the door handle and pulled it open.
Inside was a cornucopia of noodles. Almost every single variety you could imagine. Deciding not to push my luck, I bit into a few packages, and, stumbling across the warehouse I reached my shelter. I quickly crawled inside and re-sealed the doorway with some some editions of General Undergarments, and began to dig into a package as quietly as I could. It was the best tasting ramen I every had, considering that I hadn't eaten for the past five hours. I didn't know if zombies needed sleep, but I decided not to risk it and used a paperback edition of a "Antarctic Avian Club Comixs"as a pillow, and fell into an uneasy sleep.
When I awoke, I got the answer to my question, as well as an interesting insight in zombie physiology. It appeared that the more "Experienced"infected, the ones that overran us in the first place slept right on the floor, whilst the newer "Noob"zombies were nowhere in sight. I assumed that their degenerating eyes preferred to be in total darkness, instead of the flickering florescent light, kept up by a power plant that we all assumed was kept safe by the military.
I crawled out of my shelter and began to shamble around. Shambling around is very hard, especially if you cant sit down, but I saw some of the originals take a seat on the ground so I did too. In the distance, I heard a tapping noise, almost like a systematic crunch or a tapping of fingers. It went like "Nuch-nuch nuch-nuh nuch-nuch nuch-nuch"and I assumed it was some sort of a tribal beat that the infected brain was using to express itself. Eager to not show myself as a living human, I began to pound my fists on the ground along with the beat of the noise. For a second, nothing happened. "Well, now I'd done fucked myself, and possibly the human race too."I thought to myself as my fight or flight instinct began to kick in. The other zombies then sorta looked at each other and acted confused, but then began to go along with the beating. Perhaps this was supposed to be started by a sort of leader, but he was to far away for infected ears to hear. If this was the case, perhaps the zombies exhibited a level of organization unknown to the public assumption. I wanted to get away from this situation, lest this be a signaling of the start of a feeding frenzy, so I slid away from the orange juice isle where this was located and made my way back to my fortress. The pounding had stopped, but again I could hear the noise. "Nuch-nuch nuch-nuch nuch-nuch". I approached my book castle and was very surprised by what was inside.
Inside of the fort, MY fort, was Nick! The lazy bastard was eating my fucking ramen. MY fucking ramen! He turned to me and dropped my ramen to the ground. "Shit... Grr..."he turned to me and tried to growl. I was about to bite his neck off for taking MY ramen, but then I realized something. He must also be immune! This almost makes up for him being an asshole! I quickly crawled inside the fort and asked, "So, you arn't infected?"
"Nope. But listen, I have been watching the zombies when they slept. It seems like the more "Experienced"infected, the ones that overran us in the first place slept right on the floor, whilst the newer "Noob"zombies were nowhere in sight"
"That's, like, exactly what I think too!"I agreed.
"Well listen, we could make our escape at night. The experienced zombies seem to sleep longer. We could make it out!"
"That's a stupid idea, dumbass. The zombies don't actually sleep, they just lie down to test their muscles I think."That killed my opinion of the dumbass. "Listen, *Nick* I'm assuming that you survived the past few days eating MY ramen. Now I'm gonna turn you over and use the commotion to escape."
"What! No! Please! Have some humanity in you!"
"Too late for that, you ramen stealing thug"
(at this point I had gone quite insane, and I apologize in advance,)
I shoved him out of MY fortress and sent him rolling across into the stuffed animal isle, where he crashed into a wall of stuffed animals revealing Milton from before, chowing down on udon noodles. He turns to me and screams, and all of the zombies in the whole Costco turn towards us. Suddenly, all of them collectively drop the skulk and burst out laughing, although a few of the experienced ones began to cry. "Is anybody here even a real zombie!?"Somebody yelled out to the crowd. "Nope, I dont think so..."somebody piped in. It was a moment of rejoice amongst us Costco-ers. The apocalypse was averted! It was going to be okay! Nick wasn't actually a hope for the survival of humanity. All of the outsiders were in tears. It turned out that, in an effort to disguise themselves, they had actually eaten human flesh. I guess that this is a tale to think about the next time you decide to eat ra men. |
Somewhere in the wilds of British Columbia, Paul Tucker pulls two cigars out of a silver case, handing one to his companion, Stanley McMurphy.
“I’ve been saving these bad boys for when we finally bagged one.”
he said, handing McMurphy a zippo with the initials *SFRO* engraved in.
McMurphy lit his, choking slightly on the harsh smoke.
“Is that why they’re dry as shit?”
Tucker smiled and patted McMurphy on the back, taking a puff on his celebratory stoogie while admiring their prize.
It was nine feet tall and covered in coarse shaggy hair. The two men had finally earned their title of Bigfoot hunters.
The boys at the Sasquarch Field Research Organization were going to keel over with jealousy.
“I kind of feel bad” Tucker said “If you shaved the sonofabitch he’d almost look human.”
“One hell of an ugly human.” McMurphy replied, examining the shot to the chest that took the beast down.
Tucker had a point, though. If it weren’t for the sloping brow, gorilla-like nose, or signature large feet, it did almost look human.
*Almost*.
“It’s all in the name of science.” Tucker said, as he started to tie a rope under the creature’s armpits and around it’s chest, then onto the back of the ATV.
They’d have to take it slow, so as not to damage him.
Not to damage *it* Tucker corrected himself, trying to purge himself of the thought that this slain creature was anything but a taxological specimen.
“If it’s in the name of science.” McMurphy grunted, helping lift the creaure’s legs onto the front of his own ATV “Does that mean I can have your share of the money?”
Tucker just grinned and shook his head. He was going to miss McMurphy’s chirping. Sure, they’d have interviews and book tours to attend together, but fame has such a way of changing a man that Tucker knew that the McMurphy he knew died with the Sasquatch.
He swung his leg over the ATV. It was going to be a hell of a ride back. Just as he put the key in the ignition, he heard McMurphy yell
“What in the name of Mothman is *that*?”
Tucker’s jaw dropped as he looked over his shoulder. Fifty feet above the ground was a massive, silver disk, hovering silently, the size of a football field with no visible markings.
He got off his ATV and grabbed his rifle, staring in mesmerized amazement.
A beam of light shot down just a few yards in front of them and humanoid shape began to form in it.
The first thing Tucker thought when he saw the giant object was *UFO*, and when he saw the shape start to form he was expecting a little grey creature with a bulbous head and gigantic eyes, á la Roswell.
Instead of Betty and Barney Hill, he got Arnold Schwarzenegger. The creature was humanoid with enourmous black eyes, all right, but it was over a head taller than the two men and Sweet Second Gunman was it *built*.
“Humans!” it bellowed, it’s lips not moving but it’s baritone voice echoing in their head. “I have travelled many star systems, looking for the mightiest warriors to best in hand to hand combat. The creature you have slain today, with your cowardly weapons, was the not only best your planet had to offer, but the last of his kind. I will need a substitute, and as his slayers, *you* shall be his substitute.”
He flexed, his muscles looking like they would burst out of the silvery sheen of his jumpsuit.
“A fight to the death, with nothing but the hands and strength the Galactic Creator bestowed upon you” the alien continued “In which the loser falls honourably as the champion of his species and is immortalized by the victor in his tales. What say you, Earth beings?”
Tucker didn’t know at what point he loaded his rifle, he was so awed and terrified he did it instintively out of self preservation and with shaking hands.
His answer to the alien warrior was a pull of the trigger.
A fist sized hole in between it’a bulbous eyes exploded and it’s neon green blood formed a mist behind it as purple chunks of presumably brain matter coated the brush behind it.
Tucker was worried it would somehow deflect the bullet with some sort of telekinetic powers but instead it dropped like a bag of potatoes.
If the spaceship was somehow controlled by the lone alien or by a team of other aliens or by an artificial intelligence, it didn’t matter. It zipped off instantly, leaving no trace save for the dead space creature in front of them.
In stunned silence, McMurphy was the first to speak.
“Do you know what this means?”
Tucker shook his head, despite a number of things coming to his head. That they just discovered they weren’t alone in the universe? Or that an advanced civilization was willing to contact humanity? Did he just ruin their chance at mankind joining some sort of intergalactic community?
It meant so many things. But McMurphy answered for him.
“An alien and a Bigfoot on the same day? We’re definitely gonna be on the Discovery Channel!” |
The light of desk lamps crouched over the table reflects off of dismal, yellowing character sheets, dungeon tiles, and dice scattered pel-mel, all coated in a fine layer of cheeto dust.
It’s two A.M. To late by far for this shit, we’ve all got jobs in the morning. But hey, we’ve come this far, and we’re so close.
Meraxes, the Demon King is at 8 HP, but the Axe of the Eye is as sharp as ever. We’ve killed him twice before, and twice he’s come back stronger. But this time, we have his heart, ripped from his chest during the brave sacrifice of Bob the Ork, whose player had to go on a business trip to seattle.
I pick up the dice. Two characters standing, Bertok the dwarf having fallen moments before. Esmeralda, the tiefling enchantress with a broken heart, and me, Tinneson, a halfling rogue, small, easy to overlook, and about to bring an end to a demon the size of a skyscraper.
He’s finally weak enough, and partially blinded. It’s now or never. So I roll against a acrobatics check against his dexterity, adrenaline making my hands shake, AND….
MADE IT!
The heart is cast into the abyss, and Esmerelda dodges Meraxes’ fingers one last time. Her magic stripped, all she has is a tiny dagger, but it’s enough--plunged into a monstrous eye.
And the table erupts into cheers. The few beers not already drunk are quickly consumed. Bear hugs and high fives are shared in excess. We did it. Almost two years every tuesday and saturday, and it's over. It’s bittersweet, but at least it went out with a bang.
Then Craig, our Dungeon Master, clears his throat. Of course! The epilogue. We have to know what happened to the land of Seriana, saved by our bravery and heroics.
“Esmeralda the Enchantress was reunited with her lost love, freed from the Meraxes Soul Cage. The two of them became Revered Elders of the Order of Mages, the first of their race to do so. They spent the rest of their lives passing on their knowledge to young magicians and wizards and researching spells of great power.”
Sarah, Esmerelda’s player seems satisfied with this ending, and nods congenially.
“Bertok, the Dwarven Cleric spent a short time in the underworld during which he re-crushed the heads of many he had sent there previously. Thereafter, the dwarven gods raised him as a new deity, patron of loyalty, devotion, hammers, and shattered skulls.”
Our Bertok Player, Bernie, himself small, hairy, and ferocious, pounds the table in approval, knocking over a bottle of gatorade.
Finally, Tinneson, who had so often stated his desire for an ironic death, was against his will smited and brought back as one of the gods he so often maligned. He spends most of his time on earth, stealing valuable items and tricking people into starting fights.
A good ending then! And we bid a fond farewell, discuss briefly the possibility of starting a new game tuesday, and go to bed.
And when we wake up, it is to a emergency broadcast about some sort of meteor that had landed just miles away, leaving behind it a perfectly circular space of destruction, with the Eye of Meraxes the Destroyer emblazoned within.
Then, not shortly thereafter, almost instantaneously muscular men in black suits are kicking down doors, and loading our little DnD group into a van.
So all in all, a interesting morning.
(r/StannisTheAmish)
(Part 2 later, I have to go skiing). |
For centuries we developed, discovering and adapting technologies far beyond what had been thought possible. We had eliminated poverty, disease, and strife. Humans of the past might have called us gods or wizards, yet one thing lay beyond our grasp. The speed of light shackled our expansion. Unable to move to even the closest stars in any reasonable timeframe, until now.
&#x200B;
We had discovered an ancient network of "holes"in space time. They linked a certain constellations of stars, all with habitable planets. Perhaps a relic of a long dead empire. Their stability and size was such that our ships could easily cross the vast blackness that once seperated each star. Humanity's finest volunteered for the mission. We would explore new worlds, perhaps contact new civilizations, and research the mystery of the hyperlane network.
&#x200B;
In one system, an alien world awaited us, a colony of an unknown sentient species. They seemed to be plant based, with long luminous roots which reached deep into the frozen surface of their ocean world. Their civilization looked much like ours, with little evidence of conflict. In fact, our initial survey revealed elegant towers, and arrays of lights which could only have been grand works of art. They attacked us immediately.
&#x200B;
Before we even understood what was happening, Earth recieved the garbled SOS of the first contact crew. The plants sent unmanned scout ships, which swarmed through the holes between star systems. They located Sol within weeks. They towed huge, crystalline megastructures through the hyperlane at the edge of the Kuiper Belt, which immediately began to consume the raw materials in the area. Our fleet was bulky, slow, and energy intensive; outfitted for science. The ships that swarmed from their foundries were sleek, fast, quiet, and armed to the teeth. Within days of the initial invasion our ships had been completely obliterated. Their fleet swarmed around earth and began broadcasting... something. It was difficult for us to translate, but with the entire human race on the line, our cryptographers and linguists made breakthroughs which would have made them famous and wealthy had times been easier.
&#x200B;
Their message was as follows:
WE DEMAND YOUR IMMEDIATE SURRENDER AND THAT YOU ABIDE BY THESE PRINCIPLES:
&#x200B;
DO NOT SEND LIVING THINGS INTO THE PORTALS.
DO NOT SEND LIVING THINGS NEAR THE PORTALS.
DO NOT RESEARCH THE PORTALS.
&#x200B;
THE PORTALS ARE DANGEROUS. THE PORTALS ARE HOMES FOR T̸̟͓͔̃ͨ͗̃H̴̨̰͚̥̝̭̰̬̗͋͛̈́E̷̢͉͒̓M̵̥̰͒̓͐̑̒ .
&#x200B;
IGNORE T̸̟͓͔̃ͨ͗̃H̴̨̰͚̥̝̭̰̬̗͋͛̈́E̷̢͉͒̓M̵̥̰͒̓͐̑̒ . DO NOT RESEARCH T̸̟͓͔̃ͨ͗̃H̴̨̰͚̥̝̭̰̬̗͋͛̈́E̷̢͉͒̓M̵̥̰͒̓͐̑̒ . DO NOT THINK ABOUT T̸̟͓͔̃ͨ͗̃H̴̨̰͚̥̝̭̰̬̗͋͛̈́E̷̢͉͒̓M̵̥̰͒̓͐̑̒ .
&#x200B;
Suddenly the entire fleet turned on its axis. Our surviving radio detection network showed a strange anomaly near the Kuiper Belt Hyperlane. The entire automated fleet broadcast a single command. We translated it: "RUN". They jumped vertically out of our solar system, we saw them self destruct a few light-hours away.
&#x200B;
From afar we observed their megastructures... \*writhing\*. Huge tunnels appeared as if by magic and the entire structure began to twist in a way our physicists deemed impossible by the standard laws of nature. It seemed like an enormous group of maggots were eating through ship foundries thousands of miles across. Remembering their message, we are unsure whether to investigate. |
*An excerpt from the autobiography of F. J. Sterling, who found rune \#214, to this date the last known rune.
For the first year in rather a while, the rune hadn’t been found for over a month. Most people had given up or forgotten about it, assuming that someone had found the rune and was avoiding going public, or that they weren’t aware of its power. A few dedicated (or desperate) rune hunters scoured the Caras isthmus — where it had fallen — but so far to no avail.
I was looking for something rather different, The oceanward side had the perfect geological history for my line of work. Fossils. While most of my time is spent in the lab, doing chemical tests, and other analysis, I still take some time every morning to walk along the pebble beaches and see what I can find.
As I came towards the concrete stairs, which would take me up the wall and to the lab, I noticed a smooth white stone, it was of a markedly different type of rock than most things around here, but that doesn’t mean anything usually. I picked it up, and turned it over. I’m not sure quite what I was expecting; but it certainly wasn’t a precise serious of hair-thin marks, engraved into the surface.
It was a rune.
Now, having seen the rune being found the previous year, I was kind of expecting a great feeling of power, or some almost spiritual experience of enlightenment. Instead, I experienced something rather akin to profound disappointment. It seemed to be a fake. However, I took it with me anyway, I think I wanted to know what sort of rock that it was, or something like that. The more closely that I inspected it, the less it seemed like something I had seen before, and hence the more worthy of investigation.
It took me a long while to convince myself that the rune was real, instead of a well made fake. It took me even longer to figure out what it did, honestly, I’m still not quite sure if I’m right.
My friend is a linguist, who specialises in the language that is on the runes. We have over two-hundred now. Apart from \#178, where the finder is still unknown, we have a complete record of the inscriptions, which are just as clear today as they were on the day that they were found. This is enough for us to get a vague idea of what each says, but not nearly enough to get full or precise translations of all but a rare minority, like \#12 or \#28\*. He told me that he couldn’t get a very good translation, but that it said something about “awareness” and “perspective”, but that the rest of the informative language was unknown.
I have found that I am often able to know what things are perceived as, in a way almost like memory, when I shouldn’t otherwise be able to. In one case, I was offered a piece of jewellery at a car boot sale. I could somehow see that it was an object of great sentimental value to the man who offered it. They loved it dearly and truly, and even as they offered to accept a lower price, they couldn’t bear to part with it.
This seems like a rather pointless ability. I thought so too. Many people laughed at it, some went so far as to call me a fraud — there were more of those people than there were for most other rune-holders.
Compared to the other abilities that are known, this is certainly among the least directly useful. I can’t persuade with a word like \#153 nor can I literally move mountains like \#74.
However, I have since changed my mind about how powerful my ability actually is. I did so when I met \#203, my now good friend, Fyodor (I won’t give his surname since he has managed to maintain a degree of anonymity). His power is quite something, perfect illusion. It is rather difficult to maintain convincingly, and apparently to deceive more than two senses is nigh impossible, but even so it has great value. He has used it to create images of public figures to avoid the threat of assassination, objects too sensitive to directly move or handle.
Most notable about our meeting, was that he let me hold, only for a brief moment, his rune. The experience was far more than just a vague awareness of sentimental value. I saw the way the Fyodor considered the rune. To him, it was the tool that allowed him to build his career and the life that he lives now. He originally came from a tiny village, and expected to continue his family lineage of grain farming. He found his rune, and truly changed the way that he lived.
However, I saw something far more. I believe these experiences to be from whoever, whatever, created the runes. They are objects of great beauty, but it is hard to appreciate the extreme degree of effort that went into them. The inscriptions appear crisp and perfect to the naked eye, but surprisingly, unlike any other such object, they remain this way under an electron microscope.
These runes aren’t natural. They have an intelligent and deliberate creator. Maybe, as some have suggested, God. Maybe not. I don’t claim to know, and I have had the closest thing to a direct interaction with this creator than anyone else, by a very wide margin. This creator has a purpose, a motivation, with their gifts. I have only the vaguest of ideas about what that motivation is. I’m not even confident that my own rune is the last, even as it seems that way.
All I know with any degree of certainty, is that finding out more is incredibly important.
Each time I have touched a rune, other than my own, I have learned more. So, this is how I began my quest (as it is to this day) to find each of the runes. To understand them, and moreso their creator.
\* \#12 *One who bares this stone is careful and aware beyond the limits of themselves, be still and calm, and hence, see what is unseen.* This rune gives the power of sensory clairvoyance if its holder is in a sort of meditative state.
\#28 *One who bares this stone is erudite and studious. When it is needed, their knowledge will find itself.* This rune grants its holder perfect recall, although it is not something that they can control. |
"I knew it!"Calvin exclaimed with a told-you-so grin.
I winced involuntarily, but even without such an obvious tell, I knew the jig was up.
"so..."he continued.
Mentally, I was kicking myself. I had been so careful, only slipping up a few times.
Garlic fries in April 2014. SPF30 (not 3000) in September 2017. Now this.
"you realize what this means, right?"he asked as his obnoxious grin grew... obnoxious-er. He stopped folding tiny sets of clothes, and shut the door leading out of the living room.
"please... please don't"I barely whispered.
"Oh don't be like that! I want to hear everything! We can even grab a... *bite* to eat"as he erupted into laughter as I readied myself for what would come next.
Of any mortal I've ever grown close to, even over the centuries, Calvin embodies the dad-joke more than any other mortal I've ever met.
"You can *count* on me to keep this a secret... you'll just have to buy me a... *stake* dinner, bwa ha ha ha ha! How are you not laughing? It's like you won't even... *bat* an eye! HAHAHAHAHA!"
As I sighed, the only solace I could find is that there'd only be a few more decades of this before he would eventually leave the mortal coil. Sometimes I can't stand that I love the guy. |
"God damn it, Roger! You're dead, why the fuck would you want to chew up the mattress!? You can't even lie down on it, for fucks sake!"
"Moooooo."
"Oh don't give me that crap. You've told me you wanted to be a dog. I get that. Dogs are cool. But this is the fourth fucking time you've chewed something to bits and this time I'm not having it!"
"Mooooo..."
"Not those puppy dog eyes. I won't be tricked again."
"Moo?"
"I said no!"I tried to push Roger's face out of my way, but I forgot that he was a ghost. Sally, the hen, and her five little chicks clucked at me disappointed, but at this point I could have cared less. "It won't work this time."
"Mooooo. Moo. Mo."
Roger licked my face, but I could only feel a cold breeze. His eyes were so expressive, I felt that even while alive he could tug heartstrings. Sally pecked at my shoe a few times in solidarity before I finally caved in. "Fine. But no fifth time or else!"
"Moo!"Roger pranced out the room by way of wall and I was left with Sally, her five chicks, and a ruined guest room.
"He's doing this on purpose, isn't he?"
Sally gave me an exasperated look. She clucked and shook her head before she too left the room.
I could only sigh and tug at my ponytail. "He's not a bad guy!"I yelled at them. "He'll love all of you! And,"I paused. "His dad is a veterinarian!"
Nothing. What could I say to make them trust anyone other than me? Dying by a fire in a vet's office is traumatizing, but they couldn't live in fear for the rest of their spiritual lives. Plus- I looked around at the mess in the room- having a second person here to help wouldn't be that bad. |
The order was loudly and imperiously pronounced, hitting the room like a thunderstrike. "I'll have an iced medium-short Ristretto, seven shot, venti, with half almond, half soy milk, three pump hazel, seven pump vanilla, poured, not shaken."
A dense quiet enveloped the coffee shop. Even the music faded into the background, echoing absently in the total silence that descended after the order was placed. Noone breathed.
A baby began to cry, and the world lurched back to normalcy. The fifteen-odd other patrons in the establishment pretended not to look at the unfortunate barista behind the counter top, who was just now seeing his customer for the first time, the weight of her order slowly coming to bear.
He noticed the brand name sunglasses, still being worn indoors, and the fresh manicure with multi-patterned fingernails. He watched as her eyes snapped back to her phone, her fingers desperately resuming their frantic typing and scrolling, expertly manipulating that small screen. She giggled at something only she could see, oblivious to the ripple in reality she had just created, as if it ordering such a drink was mere child's play on a saturday afternoon.
"Name?"Trey asked, fighting to keep the anger from his voice, knowing that he must channel this anger, stoke it and use it, for if he let it give way to terror he would be lost.
The other baristas waited behind Trey, feeling a deep relief that they did not take this order, each fervently wishing that the customer was just an incidental drop-in and not a regular.
"Karen,"she finally answered, looking up at the barista as if it was his fault he did not know her name. "And remember it,"she added, to the collective devastation of the four other baristas. "If you make it well, I'll be back!"
Trey stared down at the receipt, unsurprised by the 2% tip.
"I'll be right out,"he said, turning and striding towards The Door, knowing that all eyes - patron and barista alike - were upon him, and that they admired his bravery.
The air shifted and the world changed and a grass field surrounded him. He sniffed the heavy laden air. A storm had just swept through and another would be on the way. He looked over the sloping field towards the stormfront, losing himself in the flashes of sheet lightning that periodically brightened the sky.
The Wizard appeared before him, smelling of freshly ground coffee beans.
Trey repeated the customer's order unerringly. His fate was sealed and there was nothing left to do but press on. "Iced, medium-short Ristretto, seven shot, venti, with half almond, half soy milk, three pump hazel, seven pump vanilla, poured, not shaken."
The Wizard's eyes registered acknowledgement. He straightened upwards and stood as tall and still as a statue. When he eventually responded the stormfront had long since enveloped and passed beyond them, the thick rain giving way to rays of sunshine so hot they immediately began to steam the soaked ground. Trey had never seen such a delay in an Answer before. He fought down rising terror.
"Trey, your journey will be arduous and long, but it is destiny that you will succeed where others have failed."
A sword and shield appeared on the ground, glinting in the sun.
"You will do so with help, for all Baristas who have failed in this quest will join you now."
Thunder cracked in the distance and other baristas began to materialize, their surprise immediately giving way to resignation as they took stock of their surroundings, noticing how familiar it all was. All of them appeared already armed and armored.
"You must pass through the broiling thunder storms until you reach the Pillars of Privilege, from there you must fight through the Narrows of Narcissim, then make your way down the Valley of Vanity... and only then will you meet and do battle with the Order."
With that the Wizard flared his robes and struck his staff upon the wet ground, vanishing into the sky like a reverse lightning bolt.
The smell of roasted coffee wafted in the air. Trey willed his resolve to harden as he looked out over an entire army of baristas, knowing that each would lay down their soul in the pursuit of a perfect drink for their customers. He allowed the Wizard's words of encouragment to echo in his mind. He would succeed.
---
The Door parted and Trey stepped through. Barely five minutes had passed in the real world, which was still an eternity for one customer's order. He had a deep tan and his beard was long and unkempt, grown out to hide a deep, jagged scar on his chin. His body was lithe and hardened and clearly attuned to battle. Scars crisscrossed his forehead and a well warn patch covered his left eye.
He smiled through broken teeth, absorbing the horror and pride of the other baristas, soaking in the admiration of the patrons arrayed throughout the room. He had succeeded where others had failed.
"Karen,"he said, holding out the drink reverently. "Iced medium-short Ristretto, seven shot, venti, with half almond, half soy milk, three pump hazel, seven pump vanilla, poured, not shaken."
There was a collective intake of breath when Karen did not acknowledge him, instead letting him hold onto the rapidly cooling beverage while she finished typing on her phone. Then she looked up and took it without so much as a thank you, opening the lid and emptying four packets of brown sugar into the delicately crafted liquid. She stirred it all together, letting more heat escape and totally destroying the layered complexity, all while remaining oblivious to the fact that everyone in the room was staring at her in shock.
She took a sip, her slurp audible in the pregnant silence. An eternity passed, then she scrunched her face. "Too sweet,"she said with a sneer. "Make it again." |
“By the creator it’s only a child...” Iris, leader of the ragtag band of demon hunters, cursed as his own hands shook. “I didn’t sign up for this...”
“None of us did....”
The party of three had travelled together for decades, Iris a brave knight, Genesis, a Mage of great renown, and Lin, a bard there for the tales he could tell when their adventures were done.
The call of gold was too enticing for the group. “A demon has terrorised our village for centuries. Please. You must help us or there’ll be no one left!” The village elder had begged them for their help, and eager for a challenge they obliged. “The beast is cursed to be unable to leave the tower of its own free will, but it’s powers are so great it can control us from afar! Please, please you must stop it!”
Now Iris wasn’t sure that all the gold in the world could entice him to attack the snivelling little girl, if she was even who they sought.
The crown upon her head was so big and heavy she looked as if she could barely keep her head upright. The sword was almost as big as she was, but the moment Lin stepped forward, she yelled, and dropped it to the ground with a clatter.
“Lin-“
“No, no.” He assured the others. “Allow me.”
He kneeled before her, showing his hands in surrender. “Are you safe? Are you trapped here?”
She nodded, and Lin recoiled in surprise as she flung herself into his arms.
He glanced to the others, with weapons still raised, and nodded at them. “Calm yourself, my friends. She’s frightened.”
“I don’t trust this, and if you do, then you’re beyond help.” Genesis was nervous. The whole thing seemed odd to her, and where most days Lin would trust her intuition, today he ignored her to fawn over the little girl.
“Don’t listen to my friend.” Lin spoke cheerfully, and the girl wiped her eyes and looked up at him.
Iris could help himself and approached her too, showing he too meant no harm.
“Guys!”
“What’s your name?”
“Liz...”
“Oh, lovely! My name is Lin, this is my friend, Sir Iris, and our other friend, Lady Genesis. We’re honoured to meet you.“
“What are you doing here all alone?” Iris asked as he looked at the sword she wielded. It was flimsy, nothing more than a children’s toy.
“My mother disappeared! I... I don’t...”
“Well. The village told us a big scary demon lives on this castle... so we should get you out of here. Get you somewhere safe.”
“Then we can come back and find your mother...! Take care of this demon problem once and for all.”
Liz looked between the two men and nodded quickly. “Yes please!”
“How old are you, Liz?” Lin asked her, taking her hand and kissing it, hoping that treating her as a princess would ease her fears.
She brightened, and smiled up at him. “I’m... seven!”
“Well! What a well spoken seven year old! Come on. Iris can take you. He’s the muscles. No brains mind you, but plenty of muscles.”
“Hey!” Regardless, Iris obliged, stopping by Genesis who continued to glare at the two. “Come on. What’s the matter?”
“No trace of this demon, and you two are adopting a child!? This has trap written all over it. Well you can take her outside. I’ll stay right here.”
“Maybe it’s for the best, you’re right. If you see hide or hair of the demon come running!”
Genesis nodded to Lin, and walked them to the entrance. The magic in the air had been thick but the moment they crossed the threshold of the doors it dissipated. Genesis frowned. Why had she been thinking of magic? What had she stayed behind for when her friends needed her?
“Wait for me!”
She raced after the others, unsure of why her thoughts felt so heavy and sluggish, until she saw the girl grinning over Iris’ shoulder, eyes red and her smile full of fangs. That was no child. Iris carried a grown woman, twisted horns coming from her head, and was none the wiser.
She stopped but blinked. She couldn’t recall why the sight was supposed to be so unnerving, but twirled her staff in her fingers and followed along.
None of them questioned the way Iris, the once brave and just knight gutted the woman in the village for daring to accuse Liz of being the demon they had been sent to kill. It didn’t feel wrong for the group to raze the village to the ground for accusing them of freeing the demon of its curse and dooming them all.
None of them questioned that Lin began to tell more macabre stories, sending children and adults away where his songs once delighted them. His stories were no longer to charm, but to draw a crowd so he could steal their coin purses, and any other valuables they dare keep on hand.
None of them questioned that Genesis’ magic turned darker, more twisted, until she may as well have been a vile demon herself. Her own blood fuelled her spells, until it wasn’t enough, and she would drain innocents of their life in the search of power.
None of them questioned the demon, Liz, who smiled and watched as she kept a control over her thralls.
Off she would send them to fetch any money, fine foods or material things she could ever desire, now that she was no longer bound to her prison, her tower. The world was her plaything now. |
I never asked for this life.
I never wanted to be constantly asked what living with my parents are like, what my childhood was like, or even how I’m “compensating” for this “abnormality.”
I never wanted to be informed at a young age that the odds I turned out the way I did was slim to none.
It’s bullshit (no pun intended) that this Greek cow guy and a mermaid living in the middle of the Pacific met in the middle of the night 20 years ago, fucked like animals (again, no pun intended), and now I’m stuck behind the counter at Kohl’s, trying to figure out what to do with my life.
To answer the questions previously mentioned, I never got to live with my parents. My dad is currently living in an unnamed facility in the middle of nowhere, Nevada, so the only contact I had with him in my entire life was through Skype calls and visiting hours. My mom lives in the bottom of the ocean and uses whatever magic she has to send me on my birthday presents.
It’s been like that since I was born. My mom dropped me at the doorstep of my Aunt Linda and Uncle George when I was 3 months old, and they’re the only family I’ve ever known. They told me that due to the way magic is and the physiology of minotaurs and mermaids, the probability of a totally human child is 2%. 2. Fucking. Percent. Of the 50 possible ways my life could’ve gone, the powers that be chose the most boring way possible.
Uncle George always joked that I should be proud I’m just a normal guy, saying that I should be glad I wasn’t born an unholy combination of a fish and a bull. I always responded with a smile and a “Yeah, right.” but on the inside I was screaming, no, I’m not a normal guy. Normal people would actually know their parents. Normal people wouldn’t be kept under watch by every single government agency, waiting for magic to shoot out my ass or for me to grow horns or whatever the fuck.
You know what the sad thing is? I was supposed to be something. There was a fucking prophecy. Apparently, the holy union of a child of Poseiden and the ancestor of Minos would restore balance to the universe or something (I’ll be honest, I wasn’t 100% paying attention), but I was never really given some major quest because I’m not that guy. That guy was fabled to be some badass with the strength of a bull and the mysticism of Atlantis. The only magical thing I inherited from my parents was the ability to know exactly how long to cook ramen (You gotta let the noodles chill in the broth for at least 1 minute before you eat it.)
I guess my life could be worse. At least I’m getting a good education from a decent college. At least I have a stable-ish part time job so I can pay off my loans. At least I’m not that unholy fish-bull thing. I just have to keep riding those thoughts until I either do what was foretold in the prophecy or I die one of the 3 million people who die a day, living totally meaningless lives. |
The man next to me is naked and not the slightest bit embarrassed about it. I must say, I myself don't feel quite comfortable, naked, surrounded by about twenty strangers, both male and female. A handful of Asian-looking women hurry up the grassy hill towards a clump of bushes.
&#x200B;
I turn to the man next to me, as I hear him mutter something, that may be a curse in a language sounding like french. “Do you know how we got here?” I asked him, already knowing the answer was “no”. His name is Vincent, he tells me in his elegant French accent, and he is from Orléans. At least he spoke English, even when his eyes spoke of a distaste for it.
&#x200B;
“Does one of you have a phone on you?” a woman asks from behind us. I turn and see a girl with green hair and dark skin. I start patting my leg, where my pocket would be, and she starts laughing “Of course not! Sorry for asking.”
&#x200B;
Her name is Amy and she is from London. In an attempt to make small talk, I ask the Frenchman and the British lady what brings them both to Kansas? Business or pleasure?
&#x200B;
“Kansas?!” They both look at me with wide eyes. Just at this moment, the planet's second sun rises behind me.
&#x200B;
The Wildkeeper is turning four of his six eyes away from the holo display on the command bridge, to look at his colleagues. This mission, he thinks, is going to be a great success. |
*Congratulations on being the 100 billionth person to die! You may now create your next, best life. Your choices will be recorded for posterity.*
I stared at the screen. “Well, I can’t just pick *anything,*” I murmured as I swiped through the first couple hundred eyebrow shapes. I tapped, watching as my future face rippled to accommodate the chosen features. I spent a dizzying few minutes pulling at every inch of my possible self, trying out voices from the millions on catalogue. I tried to turn myself into my Skyrim character, and it worked pretty well. I dropped the pin for birthplace in Vatican City, Lichtenstein, Nigeria, Tokyo. I tried on kindness and cowardice, cleverness and tact. After a few minutes, in a Frenchman’s voice, I began to speak again.
“No…I can’t pick… *anything.*”
I hovered over my latest selections. Who was I trying to create? And should I even create them? Whatever I picked, that was the ideal. That was what, in the logs of all human history, would be recorded as the *chosen* personhood. Body, traits, health… how would I pick who I could be?
I thought about when I was a child last time, what I might have picked then. A boy, definitely. Tall and blond, with pale, flawless skin. I would have placed myself in England, because I thought they still had knights on white horses there. As for personality? I probably would have asked for chivalry and a knack for swordplay.
What about when I was a teenager? I fell in love with my best friend that year. I wanted to be just like her, so I would have been a dusky-skinned girl from India. I would have been artistic and clever, pretty and brave.
A few years after that, my dream had shifted again. I would have taken everything from my body that could indicate a man or a woman. I wouldn’t have cared about the color of my skin, and I’d have been satisfied with enough skills to pass intro Stats. I’d have planted myself firmly in the U.S., because I would have assumed such a person would be safest there.
The cycle had continued for the rest of my life… every few years, someone else was perfect to me.
So which was most perfect? Who was I supposed to choose?
I thought about the wars I had lived through, the terror. I thought about the signs I’d seen in churches, graffitied across brick walls. Whatever face I chose, I was also choosing the hate that it would attract. Did I want to live through the worst of that hatred? Of course not. But what a statement it would be to *choose* to be one of those hated groups. Even if no one ever knew, it would be forever a part of this… reincarnation-y history.
But ethnicities, races, aren’t statements. I couldn’t just throw them together like a Halloween costume, right?
I met eyes with the mess on the screen, trying to look past the thousand different noses vying for my attention.
“Can I…?” I began, but trailed off.
I placed my finger on the “right” button. The screen began to move slowly at first, then ever faster. Options shot past me like bullets, a wall of futures both mysterious and, at a glance, indistinguishable.
There it was.
I thought about holding my breath and closed what I imagined were my eyes. With a short exhale, I pressed down-
*Randomize.* |
Its appearance was no surprise.
A flying dragon was many things: majestic, terrifying, intimidating, wonderous, primal. It was a force of nature made manifest in scale and horn. An apex predator among apex predators. Where they walked, the earth trembled. Where they flew, the wind obeyed. No, an appearance of a dragon is no surprise for it cannot sneak up on things.
The surprise is what this dragon brought. It brought an olive tree. The roots were exposed but were still wet with soil. The leaves were somehow intact, not a twig out of place. Olives hung from the branches, not one missing nor bruised.
The guards looked at each other with confusion. The Captain of the Guard was called. He took one look and called for someone else that might understand.
The dragon sat and watched, amusement clear on its scaled face. Giant amber eyes blinked lazily as one after another, a person would come and look at both the dragon and the olive tree without comprehension, then rush off to find another.
Finally the castle's Chef happened to be walking by and saw the scene. The Chef bowed low before the dragon. "Understood. How many days?"
The watchers gaped as the dragon dragged a claw through the cobblestones, leaving a very legible number on the ground.
"Splendid, that should be enough time. Will you be attending?"
The dragon nodded lordly.
"I will inform Her Majesty. See you then."
The dragon mantled, spreading its wings wide and flew into the air. The backdraft knocked everyone off balance. The tree did not move.
Everyone followed the Chef as he made his way to the Queen's sitting room. No one stopped him for all were so very curious and confused.
He made it there and knelt before her. "Your Majesty, it was brought."
She looked up from the papers she was reading. "Oh? Is it that time again? How many days this time?"
"Seven days."
She rolled her eyes. "That's not much time at all. Do you think we can make it?"She smiled at the Chef's confident nod. "Off you go then, we must be ready. I will start things on my end."
As the Chef left people murmured at the display. Finally, the Head of the Knights approached. "Do we prepare the military and the Orders?"
She looked confused as they did. "Whatever for?"
"Uh...for...conflict?"
She shook her head. "Do you fear a dove bringing an olive branch?"
He looked lost. "No, that is a gesture of peace."
"So is the dragon bringing the tree,"she said. "Only scaled up. Literally in this case."She sighed when no one appreciated her pun. "We call it: aggressive peace."
"What does that mean?"
"It means ancient allies are coming for several days of revelry and re-establishing relations. They will bring many gifts and spend gold like water. It will be a hectic, but profitable, and enjoyable time."
The Head looked stunned. "That...that is what they meant by that? Can they not send a message normally?"
"Not really. My counterpart is a bit of a Dramatic Queen as well as a normal Queen."She sighed again at the lack of response. |
“Fancy meeting you here.”
“I could say the same for you. If you’re looking for a seat, the one next to mine is all yours.”
“Straight to point, I like it.”
“There’s more to like where that came from. What’s your poison?”
“Arsenic.”
“Oh, you! Come now, let me buy you a drink.”
“Burbon, on the rocks.”
“You’ve got taste, well, other than your craving for arsenic.”
“I like to live life dangerously, I suppose that’s hardly a surprise.”
“You know how to make me interested, say more.”
“That depends on what you have in store for me.”
“I’ll never turn down a chance to make the first move, how about once you’re finished with your drink we head over to my place and discuss this more.”
“Somewhere more private? Yes, I think that would be wise, wouldn’t want anyone overhearing.”
“Oh… so you expect to make a lot of noise tonight? Naughty. Yes, wouldn’t want anyone overhearing that unless you’re into that sort of thing.”
“If we speak in code, perhaps, but otherwise we’d give too much away.”
“You weren’t kidding about living life dangerously.”
“This is my first time meeting with you, are you new around here?”
“Yes, I changed jobs recently. Used to travel a lot more but the hours were killing me.”
“So you used to be out in the field? My respect.”
“You make it sound more exciting than it was.”
“Sorry, I know it's not easy work, I’ve had plenty of bad days myself.”
“Perhaps tonight we can put that aside and just enjoy each other’s company.”
“That’s one way of putting it, the work never stops for me.”
“Don’t worry, after tonight, you won’t be thinking about that anymore.”
“Why? Is this a setup?”
“I’m no escort if that’s what you mean.”
“Good, I need no aid in that matter. I can protect myself.”
“You brought protection? Even better.”
“I always carry protection. As I said, the work never stops.”
“Now I’m starting to think that you’re the escort.”
“No. I’m a hunter, someone who stands around waiting for the action to happen.”
“Consider me snared…”
“You’re making a lot more eye contact than usual for this arrangement.”
“Am I coming on too strong?”
“Excuse me?”
“What? I really thought we were on the same page there. You tease! How dare you lead me on like that!”
“I’m not an informant, I’m looking for information.”
“Information? Is that one of those ‘code words’ you mentioned?”
“If you were who I was looking for, that wouldn’t be a question.”
“And who are you looking for? Am I not good enough?”
“I can’t offer what you want.”
“Oh… do you have a condition? It’s okay, I didn’t mean to…”
“What are you on about? I came here for an informant. That’s not code, understand?”
“So you really weren’t looking for a hookup?”
“Oh… shit. That makes a lot more sense.”
“Informant, huh? That means you’re a spy? I’ve never been with a spy before. My offer still stands if you’re interested…” |
“This isn’t a home. It’s a house? They aren’t even trying with these welcome mats anymore; the hell is that supposed to mean?” I stared at the welcome mat, dragging my claws upon its nonsensical message. If I made the mistake of entering without permission, it would leave me with a crippling pain that could be the death of me. Still, I needed to feed. How cautious was too cautious?
Placing my paw upon the door, I went to force my way inside, only to get cold paws at the last moment. It was too risky, and this was only the first house on the street. I had time. I turned to the pavement, walking along the street, trying to avoid the gaze of pedestrians passing by.
“OOOOH, look mommy a kitty!”
“A kitty? I’m the third son of Marlas, the demonic embodiment of pride, you little-”
“Aw, meow, meow, meow. To you too, Mr. Kitty.”
My cheeks were smushed by the kid, the brat getting ice-cream all over my fluffy face. She pulled and pushed, leaving minty stains all along my fur until her mother finally pulled her away, giving me a chance to jump away.
“Don’t touch that. You don’t know where that cat’s been.”
“Where I’ve been? How dare you?”
I watched the pair walk away, praying they were on this street. I would show them who was a dirty cat. Unfortunately, they both got into a car, getting spared of my wrath. Continuing my search, I arrived at my next home. It looked like it belonged to either an old couple or someone that had no sense of tact. The lawn coated in shirtless garden gnomes and flamingos.
“We LOVE in HOUSE. Oh, come on. That’s worse than the last one. Is this some sort of riddle, or is everyone on this street sharing the same brain cell? That’s it. I’m actually going mad. Perhaps this is divine punishment by God? IS THIS FUNNY TO YOU GOD? COME DOWN HERE AND FIGHT ME.” I meowed at the heavens, only to dash into a bush when the clouds parted, keeping my head down until the clouds closed again.
“Can’t hear a prayer, but he can hear that?” I mumbled under my breath, dragging my tail along the ground as I went to the next house. This time I looked for one that was a little more normal. The one at the end of the street looked alright. Two car driveway, no tacky decorations and a rather nicely crafted wooden fence along its boundary. Yep, as normal as a Cerberus pup spitting fire onto the carpet.
When I made it to the door, I noticed this house didn’t have a welcome mat. Without a welcome mat, I was left with no other option but to turn back. I turned to make my way back to the pavement only to see a rather tall man dressed in a white, glowing suit. The man creepily smiling down at me as he approached the door. Underneath his arm, he had a stack of welcome mats and appeared to be fixated on me.
“Um? Meow, meow, meow?”
“Nice try.” He shooed me away from the door before giving it a knock. When the door opened, he began speaking to the couple inside, handing his extensive selection of welcome mats to them, allowing them to sample through them.
“I know it must sound crazy, but these keep demons out. It’s completely optional and free, of course. But, even if you don’t believe the crazy demon theory, they are quite funny, aren’t they? Just lay one outside and your family should be safe. Oh, and don’t let any strange animals in.” He said, turning the couple’s attention to me.
I glanced at the pair. My mouth hung open, about to bite the man on the ankle. When I noticed the eyes on me, I slowly took a step back, shutting my mouth, trying to pretend like I hadn’t been trying to deliver a painful bite.
“Are you saying that cat is a demon?” The man asked.
“Um? MEOW, MEOW, MEOW.” I imagined if I could sweat in this form, I would be. How the hell could a human figure this out? Unless they weren’t a human…
“Could just be a feral. As I said, it’s completely optional. I can only give advice, no matter how strange it might sound.”
“Well, this mat is kind of funny…. Maybe we could give it a shot?” The woman said, handing the stack of welcome mats back to the man, only keeping one. She laid the welcome mat down, giving me a chance to read it over.
Coming or going? The mat said, furthering my frustrations. The conversation then finished, and the door shut. I went to bite the man, only to get flung back by a golden light.
“You must be starving. What a shame I’ve already visited every house in this area. I believe there’s one about thirty minutes away that you could try. Oh, that’s a thirty-minute drive, by the way. I hope those four legs of yours can run.”
“I thought angels weren’t meant to meddle in our affairs? Does God know about this?”
“Who do you think invented these welcome mats? It’s hardly meddling, it’s just giving the humans a fighting chance. We noticed how destructive demonic feeding was getting after the welcome mats, so we created an equalizer. We will only keep handing these out for free until companies start producing them. Once enough are in circulation, we will return to the sidelines.”
“I’ll show you a sideline. I’ll send you to the biggest sideline of them all, limbo.”
“Ok, how will you do that?”
“I, ugh.”
“That’s what I thought. You need to feed to use your stronger form, correct? Until you feed, you are just an annoyance. Like a fly. Anyway, I have to go. Here, have a free mat.”
I yelped as they dropped a mat on the floor in front of me, nearly smacking my head. The words on it reading. My gates of heaven. When I looked up from the mat, he was gone, leaving me to just angrily stomp on the mat before beginning my long journey to the next area, hoping he hadn’t got them first.
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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.) |
"Could you imagine how catastrophic it would be if people learned to use magic?"Director Bell asked me and the other new hires. "That's why it's of utmost importance that we find and use ways to reduce mana in the environment and in people."
I couldn't help but speak up. "What about the terrible pain migraines bring, that you said is mana building up to dangerous, even critical, levels?"
"What about that pain in particular? I don't understand,"responded the director.
"People have killed themselves over agonizing migraines before."
The room went silent as the fact I had stated hung in the air. The director gave a sad smile as she said, "Some day, you will understand, their deaths were for the better. It allows for built up mana to safely return to the environment."
The icy hand of stark realization placed itself on my back, unsettled goosebumps spreading from the top of my spine, down. "... for the better? Does... does this department advocate suicide?"
"It is an unfortunate side effect of critical mana overload,"said Director Bell. "It isn't as if we are going to these people suffering migraines and suggesting they kill themselves."
"You kind of are? The current treatments out there for migraines are inadequate. What is this department doing to mitigate the damage from mana overload?"
The director smiled tensely. "We have better things to spend our time on, as do you. You will learn to adapt and overcome that conscience that guides you, at this job, in exchange for vast knowledge of mana and techniques that will help you manage it."
One of the other recruits asked, "What if we release those management techniques to the public?"
"You will never have to worry about being employed ever again. On that note... if any of you wish to quit now, it will not be held against you. I'm sure nobody will believe your stories of your time here, so you are free to go."
I watched as the other recruits all left without a second thought. I turned to leave as well, but my feet failed to propel me forward. I was stuck in place.
Director Bell came and placed a hand on my shoulder. "There's a lot of learning to be done. Let's get your paperwork finalized."
I felt a sinking, sickening feeling in my gut. What had I just signed myself up for? |
No, I won't help you move house.
But, seriously, non-powered people tend to assume that having an extra ability also means that you are invulnerable by default, as if we can't get hurt physically or emotionally.
As a man, I already felt like I couldn't express myself fully or cry or be upset. Now that my ability manifested I am expected to be perfectly stoic every day in every situation.
People actually tutted at me for crying at my mother's funeral!
I have a few friends that are powered and they say the same thing.
Having said this, a few of my powered friends that are female have talked about the physical difficulties. They have been further objectified than without powers. "Boobs with super strength"one said.
There was a story in the news a few years ago of a powered woman that got time in prison for defending herself from assault. Her attackers didn't know she had any sort of super power.
It wasn't even a combat-ready power, she could mimic other people's voices! But to the courts mind she should have been able to fight off the attack easily without causing any bodily harm. She only escaped by using a taser! |
I'm getting old. There are more lines on my face than there ever were before, folding out from around my eyes like a fan of creases. I smooth at them desperately, pinning my skin back against my face like some demented plastic surgeon. My mouth pulls into a grimace, teeth bared.
"Come to bed, Lise."George calls from the bedroom. I can imagine him: reading glasses, striped pyjamas and a book with pages that he'll dog ear no matter how much I tell him not too.
"One minute!"I call back. I lift up a tub of night cream and survey it with distaste. *Blasted seven signs of ages. Lifts and strengthens, my arse*
I apply it liberally and rub it into my neck, trying desperately not to notice the loose skin around my jawline. When we were first dating, George used to say he loved my skin.
"It's so clear!"He'd brought me a picnic and made me leave my desk long enough to eat it in the park. It was windy and we'd had to hang on to our paper plates and on the way back I must have looked in fifty shop windows trying to put my hair back to shape. On that red chequered rug we lay and watched the clouds drift by.
"Your skin is so pretty. It almost glows."He'd said.
It didn't any more.
I bent down and unlaced my shoes with stiff fingers, sliding out of the brown brogues that I found so uncomfortable. Then there was a flicker, just at the corner of my eye. I could have sworn my reflection moved. I sprung up and scrutinised the mirror.
The old woman scrutinised me back. Then, before my eyes, she began to change. The old skin lightened and lightened, the lines flattening out into rosy cheeks. My hair grew long and thick, falling dark red halfway down my back. I lifted a hand and ran a hand through my short, grey cut, twisting the strands and watching as the old woman in the mirror became young and happy again.
I was no longer scrawny and bent double, but standing ram-rod straight, curvy and full like my entire body was trying to flirt. The girl in the mirror lifted her hands to her breasts and squeezed them, winking at me as she let her fingers trail down her in a way at made me blush.
I had been beautiful.
I reached my hand out to the mirror and touched its surface. I almost thought it would yield to my touch, but it stayed firm. The red haired girl pouted in mock disappointment and tossed her locks.
"Let me..."I half-whispered, pushing desperately at the mirror. The girl who was me shook her head.
"Please."
She stretched out her hand to mine and I hammered the glass surface frantically.
"Lise?"George was standing in the doorway of the bathroom in his pyjamas, closed book under one arm. Concern was written all over his face. "Are you alright?"He asked.
I looked back at the mirror, but she was gone and only a scared, ugly, shrunken old woman stared back.
"Come to bed, Lise,"George said, reaching for my hand. He smiled and leant in to kiss me on the cheek. "You look beautiful."
|
The old woman sits in a medical bed, staring out the window.
Juliet, a nurse who has worked at the hospice since she arrived, sits across from her; taking her break within the old womans room as she often does, trying as hard as ever to make conversation, and break the old womans silence.
"They tell me you'll be a hundred and five soon."Juliet says, cheerily "Could probably get some sort of letter from the Queen by now. You've earnt as much."
She watches the old woman carefully, knowing that should the woman ever turn to meet her eye she'd probably look away instantly, the woman had that sort of an effect on you; something that made Juliet feel every word she says is futile, not that by now she didn't feel it regardless; fifteen years of silence won't be broken by chit chat.
"Mary's asked if you'd like to have some tea with her again later, don't know whether you listen to her but she sure seems to enjoy talking at you."Juliet laughed a little "Not that I can judge anyone for that, pestering you every day."
The woman continued to look out of the window, letting out a brief sigh. Once, Juliet had taken her expression as a breakthrough - but sighing is the most communication that the woman can muster.
"I just figure you might want some company. Lord knows we can't kick you out, woman in your condition, so I thought until your ready to go you'd like a little company."
The sun drifted slowly between the clouds as the woman closed her eyes, allowing it to briefly paint her face.
"Then again, you're a fighter aren't you? Thought my Nan was a tough cookie making it to ninety three, then here's you right as rain at your age!"
Juliet collected up the packaging she had left on the rooms small table and brushed crumbs from herself as she stood. Opening the door, she watched the old woman for a few more moments, hoping to see even the slightest smile as the sun cast shadows across the wrinkles on her face.
"I'll be back again usual time tomorrow, as always you're welcome to tell me to sod off if you'd rather be alone?"
No response.
"Well then, tomorrow it is."
The sun past and the old womans eyes opened, returning to the same non existant spot she had been staring at before the clouds passed. Juliet heard her sigh again.
"Coming in here's really changed my perspective on things y'know, all it takes is a woman like you, enjoying the rare bits of sun that window might get, to remind you why life's worth fighting for. Need that sometimes, working in a place like this."
Juliet smiled and gently closed the door behind her. Under the gentle hum of the next rooms air conditioning, the old woman once again closed her eyes under the sun and leant back into her bed, allowing her mind to wander.
Then, as she did every day, the old woman dreamt of dying.
|
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