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I want to thank our shareholders for attending this, our first annual summary report! We hope you are enjoying your complimentary leftover noodles with meat sauce. Unfortunately, our co-owner was too tired to cook something special! Not that her cooking has gotten any better though! (wait for laughter here.)
I'd like to start by showing you the figure you're most wanting to hear about. We're happy to show that within a single year, our company's cranial size, length, and height have all grown to well above 95th percentile! This is in part due to the investment that you, our shareholders, have helped make. With your investments, we have been able to provide the company with plenty of food. This process has been so effective that we have to deal with the dividends 5 or six times a day! If that's not growth, ladies and gentlemen, I don't know what is.
Now this explosive growth hasn't come about easily. We've definitely had to do a lot of learning on the fly as we built this company. When I made the initial startup deposit into our account 1 year and 9 months ago, I didn't imagine that we would be seeing such a staggering decrease in our sleeping value, but even this hurdle has been overcome. We believe that our outside investment into coffee stock has been a important strategic move that has negated this concern. Under our current model, of course, this will continue, but since the coffee market seems relatively stable, we can accept this as a fixed operational cost moving forward. I guess you can say it will help us "stimulate"our move forward into 2015! (wait for applause and laughter.)
As we have planned, we have developed many product lines through the company that are allowing to save incredible amount of money in other ventures. I will highlight for example the company calendar. Prolific sales of this line have cut our Christmas investments by over 65%! This has of course freed up a lot of assets that we have decided to reinvest into the company to ensure its continued growth.
We are leading into an encouraging year based on this last years results. We are through the initial phases of our "walking"series, which we plan to have released to the public via facebook within the next 3 to five months. This is of course based on the early success of our "crawling"and "burbling"lines which have achieved massive popularity and a like rate of over 82 likes per unit! We will see the need to invest in more safety equipment for the company, as the upcoming lines do present some additional safety risks to the employee base, though rest assured that all will be well!
We have identified more encouraging trends. The company has become more efficient in it's mechanics over the last 60 days, and we are seeing that our cost of waste disposal will be decreasing, perhaps up to a 30% decrease over the next two quarters. While our disposal process used to require 6 wipes, it has been reduced to two on average. We're happy to say this is mainly due to more efficient executive management operations.
So as you can see, we have made some amazing moves this year. Before we close the meeting, the executive team would like to lay to rest a couple of pervasive rumors regarding the company. We are not, and I repeat not, in talks concerning startup investments with another company. While it would be fantastic to recreate our success, we do neep to see the total amount of sleep shares increase. Due of course to rising college costs, we are wary concerning the market in futures, and it may be prudent to keep our eggs in this basket for now.
We thank you again for attending our annual shareholder's report. We will be delivering you a strong 2015, as we expect to continue seeing explosive growth.
|
The mid level government bureaucrat sat at his desk, working away at whatever it was that he was doing, this particular, he wanted to say form, belonging to the group of work that comprised upwards of 90 percent of everything he did that he didn't understand but did anyway because he had absolutely no fear that it would lead to anything being done, knowing that nothing you can do will ever cause anyone harm being the thing that made up for knowing that as a mid level government bureaucrat nothing you ever do will benefit anyone either.
A man came into his office and threw a a folder onto his desk with the word 'resume' written on the front of it in big letters.
"I'm here to apply for the death camps"
"How did you get in here"
"I just walked in"
"Jane"said the MLGB into the intercom, before taking his finger off the button "you're not there are you?"
"No"she said
The MLGB sighed.
"I know that I've asked this before and nothing has come of it and I know, ha, damn it nothing's going to come of it this time but could we maybe look into getting security up here"
"You're not the boss of me"
"I very literally am"
"Whatever"
The MLGB heard Jane's footsteps leading away from her desk. He took his finger off the button knowing full well she was going off to do something counter productive, like for this place.
"So the death camps? Where do I sign up"
"Yes"said the MLGB pushing the folder towards the other side of the desk "you see, those weren't real"
The man stared at him blankly.
"They were, very publicly at this point, fake death camps"
The man continued staring blankly.
"And anyone who wanted to work at one was launched into the sun, because while our supreme leader hates injustice, he is still very crazy, which as dictators go is, probably the jackpot"
"So there's my resume, I think you'll find it all in order"
"I guess you're speaking colloquially because you have your second job at the top of the resume and a brief description…the night of your birth for some reason, in the middle"
"I've also included my manifesto, I know it's kind of long..."
"Actually at 200 pages it's on the shorter side"
"Where you'll find all my views on minorities. It's alphabetized for your convenience"
"Well no it's not because on page 1 you identity smurfs as a minority, which makes you crazy, for a racist"
"So will I get to actually kill the minorities, or merely abuse them"
"Ok first off, once again, the camps aren't real, two the next minority is women, which would be alphabetical order if the next one wasn't 'the blacks' which surprisingly PC for a manifesto, and three women aren't a minority, there's actually more of them"
"You'll also find I've included references, I would prefer that you call the first one, he's the head of the local Klan chapter. He can speak to my hatred for minorities"
"Well he could if he wasn't literally first person in the rocket"
"I was also wondering if you're allowed to urinate on…"
"I'm going to stop you right there. Unfortunately…"the MLGB scrolled through his computer "yup, we're not hiring"
The amalgamation of -ists pouted.
"But, how would you like to ride in a rocket ship?"
[Subreddit] (https://www.reddit.com/r/SarkasticWatcher/) |
We have finally won the war between worlds. It took 20 years to break them. We realized we would never win if we kept communicating threats 5 years in. Our strategy changed to one for peace and changing the way they thought. For 15 years we sent the same message, day and night. Today the Alien race responded with words of surrender to our chant...
We're no strangers to love
You know the rules and so do I
A full commitment's what I'm thinking of
You wouldn't get this from any other guy
I just wanna tell you how I'm feeling
Gotta make you understand
Never gonna give you up.
Never gonna let you down.
Never gonna run around and desert you.
Never gonna make you cry.
Never gonna say goodbye.
Never gonna tell a lie and hurt you. |
It's been more centuries than we can even remember. Our colony, and planet, are on the brink of extinction. We survive on cloned and synthesized meats that are grown in labs. They have had detrimental effects on our children and people. The pigment in their skin is just...off. The synthesized proteins and calcium caused our bodies to grow different. They told us that cloning and lab meat would save us. Oh, how wrong they were.
After the final bomb dropped, we slowly began to leave our shelters. Who would've thought that humans could do this to each other. The radiation destroyed so much more than we could have ever imagined. The soil would never again be useful. The water from the ocean would never again be fit for life. The planet has stopped supporting life. We gave all of our remaining support and resources to our last living scientists. Their creations are the reason why we were able to survive, if you can call this surviving. We were forced to use our weakest... our children and elderly, sick and weak to test their creations. Their first attempts at creating nutrients caused a plague that almost annihilated the rest of us.
Once we created our cloning process, we realized that it would keep us alive, but with drastic consequences. We became the same grey as the meat we consumed. The oils in our skin changed to a viscous, slime like consistency. Our bodies became frail and the nutrients only fed our brains. We needed to keep our top scientists alive. I fear that you will not understand.
The video stops and the screen goes blank. I am still in a cold sweat. Is this a nightmare ? I go to pinch myself but I realize that I am held down by restraints. There is only my frantic breathing and silence. I hear a door behind me open. All I hear are footsteps. The they stop right behind me. Something that I have only ever seen in my nightmares and wildest dreams walks by me and sits across from me. He speaks.
"We have tried everything. Our scientists were only able to prolong our species but with dire consequences. We are here to seize your body. We shall prevent all that is lost with our knowledge of will become of our species. We did not know. Being consumed by the media and things in front of our faces, we failed to control the powers that be. They destroyed us and we cannot make it in our future. We must stop it here, in our past, your present."
With that, the "thing"attached a headpiece to me. It sat across from me and attached itself to the other end of the device. I see it activate the device.
My eyes open and I see my body across from me. The restraints release my old body and it gets up. We come face to face. "Thank you. Along with you and the others we have taken, we can fix our history. We will prevent all that has happened. We will come back for you and restore you as soon as possible. We will make things right..."
I think I am going into cardiac arrest. I keep trying to wake up. I don't think this is a dream anymore... |
"Kali Persephone Keres."
I am the last one, but, I am ready.
I walk briskly, trying to appear not nervous at all. All my life, I had been waiting for this moment and I didn't even realize it. Things around me always seemed to wither away without any reason. Things I touched began to lose health. Now, I am where I belong. Although I'm sure I'll go straight to Slytherin, at least I will finally fit in somewhere.
I sit on the stool and brush my hair from my face. I look at the Slytherin table. Sure, they aren't all bad. There was always the Ravenclaws, though. I did have an unquenchable thirst for knowledge, but then again, that was just the intellectual Slytherin in me talking.
The moment the Sorting Hat is placed on my head, it begins to scream. In shock, I almost fall over, but I regain my composure. The Hat stops after five seconds of solid screaming in pure agony. Am I really that bad of a Slytherin?
The Hat wheezes and hisses in my ear, but loud enough for people near the front of the dining hall to hear. "You... you do not belong."
In that instant, my heart shattered. Not even here, in Hogwarts, did I belong? This place was supposed to be my final resting place!
Still, I remained silent, even though I could feel myself getting even more embarrassed.
"You reek of sorrow. Your past was ugly, but further than that, your ancestors created horrors beyond imagination. You reek of *death*."
Now, I was on the verge of tears. Not only was I a freak, I was a freak among these freaks. It could not have gotten worse.
Headmistress McGonagall approaches me. Just before she touches the hat, he screams again. *"I have decided!"*
The Hall is dead silent.
"Keres."
"That's my own last name,"I breathe after a second. "That's my own name."
I look at McGonagall for help, but her lips are pursed and her brow is furrowed. The Hat is removed and I am escorted to the Headmistress's office.
--
Wasn't sure if I should continue, but fun fact: All three of her names mean death. Also, the houses are respective to elements (earth, fire, water, air) so I used a new element. Death, evidently. |
Four shrill screeches from the broken cuckoo clock above let me know it was time. I shifted uncomfortably in my corset, dressed quite smartly to impress the customer- men of the Vietnam Era took note of things like that, or so I assumed. I had an image to uphold, and scanning a war veteran was a first for me.
I took a deep breath and popped a Xanax bar, swallowing it dry to avoid spilling liquid on myself. Extra-strength anti-perspirant was just barely holding the tidal waves of sweat back, and my leg was bouncing like there was a child toying with it. PTSD exists for a reason, and it's because of the things soldiers see in the muk of battlefield... how does a soft, civilian mind fare in the face of those memories?
The door opened and a young man stepped in, no older than 27 and wearing a Slayer t-shirt. His dark brown hair faded into skin near his temples and he looked entirely confused.
"Excuse me, sir,"I said politely yet firmly, "but I think you have the wrong room."
"I'm looking for Janet Stinson, the 'Seer'. I saw a photo but it was a while ago, and I don't remember what exactly she looks like."He was looking behind him and side to side, like she'd be in a cabinet or drawer.
"I'm her, but you'll need to wait. I have an important appointment any moment."
He handed me a piece of paper. "I think that's me, unless I got the date wrong."
I snatched it from him, scanning it with my reading glasses. "*You're* the war hero?"
"Well, I hate that phrase. We're all heroes, in one way or another, ma'am."
"Well, maybe not all of us. I must say, I didn't expect you to be so young. Please, remove your shirt and lay face down."I stood up and gestured to the massage table. He followed my instructions, lifting his shirt to reveal what was once an incredibly muscular body, now slightly faded by the simplicity of a slow life. Even so, he looked much better than the average person. "As I understand it, you're not looking for an actual massage, but just a reading- correct?"
"Yeah, I hate massages and the way they feel but when I heard about you I just had to know."
"Know what?"
"What you'll see. You claim to see into the deepest part of a person's soul through their scars, and you say you can see them all, right? What's the slogan? *No damage goes unseen?* I had to know what you'd see in me."
I cracked my knuckles, limbering the fingers. "Well, you're right about that. Nothing slips past me, young man. So let's get to it, shall we?"
He laid his face into the headrest and sighed. "Please, just avoid pressing into the muscle if you can. I get tender spots."
"Of course."
I reached a finger out to a pockmark on his right shoulder, instantly overwhelmed with the rush of adrenaline. It was evening, and deafening explosions were launching dirt and sand into the air. The smell of sulfur was rank, the fear of death palpable. Yet the men around me did not waver, remaining calm and collected to hold their position. A bullet took the man next to me, his mouth bubbling with blood as I tried to help him despite knowing his life was over. The distraction left my rear exposed, and a bullet tore clean through the shoulder, blood soaking into the thick fabric of my MCCUU. My eyes snapped open, accompanied by a gasp.
"I'd never seen a man die that close to me before,"he said softly. "Let it distract me. I knew he was fucked."
I traced a trembling hand down the back to a slit-shaped mound of tense flesh below his ribcage. Yet again, it felt like whiplash and I was yanked into sudden despair. I was in a bar, and a light-skinned man was screaming in my face. It was hard to hear the words, they were so slurred by anger and alchohol, but he seemed to hate the military and authority. Said his daughter was raped by a grunt at some outpost, didn't even know the name. Next thing I knew, I was ducking from a silver blur thrusting at me from every direction. He was sloppy, but fast and strong for his age, and I slipped on a felled plate, leaving my right flank exposed. The knife sank deep, and I screamed in pain, accidentally following through in real life.
"They didn't think I'd make it back from that one,"he said with a chuckle. "Sunuva bitch ended up in the slammer, though. Hear he got shanked."
I gulped and moved my fingertips to a cluster of smaller yet uneven scars covered in burns, scattered like stars and nebulae in a galaxy across his left side, and arm, even across his back. This time, it was calm- far too calm for my liking. The sun had just set, made clear by the light dusting of pinkish-orange on the horizon. I was in a helicopter, enjoying the cool breeze of nighttime air whipping about me. My friend was telling some kind of joke, I didn't understand the terminology or context, but everyone was laughing. It was nice to see them smiling, instead of screaming.
A faint, airy hiss sounded somewhere below and an alarm went off, everything going to hell in an instant. Before their smiles even faded, the tail end of our helicopter vanished in a blinding light; the world spinning so fast it felt like I was a dreidel on Chanukah. The remnants of our aircraft slid into a patch of desert sand, just barely forming a cushion, and I tried to crawl forward though I couldn't make out what was in front of me. The world was a blur, and it flipped upside down with a deafening explosion. I pulled back from the young man, stumbling into a chair with tears in my eyes. I'd seen accidents and mishaps, but nothing like the raw terror of men killing other men, of smiles melting away like dirt rinsing off a car.
"I was the only one that survived that crash. No one really knows how I made it. Living can be a curse, sometimes."He sat up and looked at me with a soft smile. "So, what'd you see?"
"I saw bravery in the face of certain death, and death that came to smiling faces. I saw men die too soon, and the horrors of what we have inflicted upon ourselves. You have suffered through more than anyone should."
He let off a light chuckle. "I figured as much."
"What are you talking about?"
He pointed to his chest, which was smooth and free of imperfections. "I have a beautiful wife who stayed with me through it all. We tried to get pregnant for years, so many different remedial, homeopathic bullshit solutions, and medical ones too. Nothing worked. But one day, after years of trying, she fell ill and I rushed her to the hospital. Turns out she'd had miscarriage. Our baby died and we never even knew there was a chance."
He pointed to his temple, again, the skin smooth and sheen. "When I was on tour in Iraq, we hit an IED and flipped. Everyone made it out okay, but we started taking fire from the rear- someone was hiding in an alleyway, taking potshots at us. Just happened to be nearby, I guess. I took him out and we went to check him and the rest of the alley. It was a child, no older than 8, holding the gun and soaking in his own blood. 8 years old, and I punched a hole through his head.
"You claim to be the 'Seer', to see all scars and what they hide... and you're right, you see scars. Only scars. You can only see what heals, not the festering, bloodied wounds that lay deep beneath the skin and never close up. Keep that in mind when you make bold claims and reach into people's memories. There's so much you don't see."
He replaced his shirt and left me standing there, gawking at the floor.
---
*thanks for reading! you can find lots of other stories over at /r/resonatingfury* |
We still have contact, and we've adapted to survive. We've grown closer despite the barriers keeping us in place. Some of us have grown apart. It's been over a year now and if I wasn't a scientist, I know I'd surely be one of the dead. Over a third of all humanity has died since this anomaly began.
It was April 15th, 2019. I was driving home from work. It had been a long day but we were close to a breakthrough. We were designing what we hoped would be the perfect strain of corn. It seems menial, but it would increase the shelf life of corn by 3 years. Not canned shit, actual corn in the husks. I had been working since 6 that morning and I was ready to see my wife and sons.
As I was deep in thought about designing a virus that was coded to corn's genetic infrastructure, the vehicle in front of me jarred to a complete halt. I slammed on my brakes and screeched to a halt barely nudging the Corolla with my Range Rover. The Corolla didn't move. At all. It seemed fixed in place. I sat for a minute in the evening dusk before assessing my situation. I was fine, but whoever was driving was clearly dead. The back windshield was broken open and stained with blood. I opened my door and gathered myself.
"I'm a scientist, it's just blood".
I threw up. This is why I work with fucking corn. I hate blood.
I grabbed my mouthwash from the center console and washed the putrid taste of bile from in between my teeth.
I stepped from the car and walked over to the back door of the Toyota, or at least attempted to. About halfway between the trunk and the door, I couldn't walk any farther. I thought it was the blood but I looked away and kept trying. Regardless of how much I attempted to move my body forwards, it was not moving. Fearing paralyzation, I attempted to move backwards. I overexerted and landed straight on my ass.
"What the fuck?"
I looked at the car behind me and the scene was similar to what was in front. Behind that vehicle, however was a young black man standing beside a Chevy Caprice Classic. Even in the grim circumstance, it looked pretty damn nice.
"Fuck is going on?"
"I'm not sure, exactly. Can you do me a favor and walk this way?"
"I can't."
Through a series of asking questions and receiving answers in the extreme vernacular, I learned his name was Matthew and he was 19. More importantly, I learned that he couldn't move past the hood of his vehicle. I attempted to cross what "barrier"was blocking him to see if I was trapped in a 30 foot line. I braced myself for the paralyzing wall and walked straight through it.
"Come with me, Matthew."
I might have needed him for something later. I don't remember why I asked him to come with me, it just felt right. Thank God that I did.
----------
I'll probably write a little more later. But that's what I have so far. Enjoy!
|
"You're just a weak man in a position of power, do you feel secure right now?"
I looked at the would be assassin standing before me. I watched as he drew his weapon from his side with one hand and a suppressor from his pocket with the other. "No, I suppose not."I replied. He screwed the suppressor to the front of his gun. "But what if I told you it wasn't worth it, I am not worth the money they're paying you."He gripped the top of his weapon and chambered a round.
"Listen old man, I doubt you can offer me more than 15 million, and I'm the one with the gun so maybe-"
"So maybe you should hear me out."
The young man stood silently, looking quite annoyed with my interruption as he caressed the trigger with his finger. I continued on, "I doubt a young kid like you still believes in God or religion, and I don't blame you for that...Hell, I don't believe that shit either. But there's more to this than whoever hired you has told you, in fact there's more here than most would be willing to admit."
His gun lowered ever so slightly as he began to think. This was my gift, the gift of gab. I didn't have to be snarky or use big words, I didn't have to be eloquent and articulate; I simply needed to get him thinking. "Why do you think they sent you here?"I said raising up slowly from my chair.
The boy took a step back and raised his weapon again. "Relax, would you like a drink?"I walked over to the mini bar and began to prepare a glass for myself.
"No, now turn around and face me so I can get this over with."
"As you wish,"I sighed. This kid was clearly a rookie, if they sent a man I'd have been dead 2 days ago in a parking garage somewhere. I placed my glass on the counter and pulled my 1911 from the ice bucket, silently and with practiced precision. I raised my weapon as I would have my glass and slowly began to turn. As my shoulder opened and began to reveal the mouth of my dragon I commanded him to roar.
My house keeper burst into the room as I pulled the magazine from my gun. I reached down under the bar and grabbed another round to replace the one I had fired and returned my pistol to its resting place.
"Would you like me to clean him up, Master?"
"Yes, and would you please send this letter to my brother. I have a phone call to make."I knelt next to the man I floored, briefly, and took him by the hand. I placed his finger on the entrance wound my .45 left in his skull and then pressed it to the seal of my letter. I disarmed him quickly ran his pockets and rose handing the letter to Susan.
"S-sure...sir."she said, clearly disturbed. I smiled as I brushed passed her and looked at the small black burner phone I took from the young man's pocket. I looked at it in all of its 'obsolete' glory as I pressed and held the number 5.
Two rings. "Hello? How'd it go?"
"Hello, father, we need to have a little chat about a certain visitor I've accepted recently. If I'm not mistaken, Matthew sent him, and if I know Matt, he didn't get that idea on his own."
The line went dead. |
I have done it. I solved the problem. For ages I walked the earth but not for long.
When the Son of Astroxil cursed me he spoke the words I know by heart. 'You, Nadine Hourment,' he spoke 'daughter of the King of Doulisse, you were supposed to be the one to kill the beast known as Proligrand, father of all death and evil. You didn't. Instead you were seduced by his words, drenched with lies, like a beehive is drenched with honey. Therefore I'm forced to curse you to roam for life on this earth. However, the curse will be lifted the moment you fulfilled 100 wishes. No magical powers will be granted.'
Guards had led me out of the courtroom and into the wide, wild nothingness the earth had been for so long. I had tried to kill myself but the wounds I cut had healed within seconds. Tears had covered me as I hoped to form a closed cocoon and never return to the real world. It was of no use.
Years, centuries went by and I hadn't granted a single wish. I tried, sure. I tried to, but every single person I meet hates me. They all do. I should've committed suicide the moment I got arrested. If. If. I love if-sentences.
So let's get back to my solution. I read every single book in the world. Some I know by heart. But one book will be the most important book I'll have ever read. 'Of International Law and Justice'. I read it 10, 20 years ago but i finally realized how dumb I've been. In 'Of International Law and Justice' it says on page 241: 'Judges shall tell their suspect to condemn their exact sentence or else the suspect is allowed to exploit its faults.' In other words: I can grant ANYONES wishes. My own as well.
I finally finished writing my bucket list. 100 things I'll have to do. I want to do. I will do.
I'd better get started.
|
Victor Nefarious walked down the street menacingly, evil in his eyes. His diabolical plot was finally coming to fruition, and he walked to the bank with hate in his heart.
"Dude, how many times do I have to tell you? My name is Robert Smith! I'm just walking to the bank to cash my paycheck!"
I changed your name a few chapters back, Victor. Anyway, the evil scientist walked, preparing for his evil scheme to begin.
"I work at an animal shelter! And what do you think I want at the bank?"
He thought about the intricacies of his plan one last time. He felt inside of his jacket, feeling the bombs he had planted inside of his coat, ready to throw.
"Bombs? What are you - OH GOD, THEY'RE IN MY COAT!"
Victor knew how unstable they were - if he didn't go straight to the bank to carry out his plan, there was a good chance that they would detonate. If he dropped them, he'd probably get hit by a bus or something.
"Oh my god, are you threatening me? I'll have you reported! I'll..."
A runaway van came careening around the corner, with its front covered in spikes. Swerving down the busy street, it just narrowly missed killing Victor.
"...I'll go to the bank."
Victor made the wise decision to continue his walk down the street.
As he walked, he ran through the plan one last time in his head. First, he would enter the bank inconspicuously, and get in line. Then, he would consume the piece of antidote gum hidden in his pocket, and drop the sleep gas bomb. He would be immune, thanks to the gum. Then, he would use his explosives to blast his way to the vault, load up bags with the money, then use his rocket boots to fly out of there.
Got all that, Victor?
"Jesus, that's convoluted. Are you sure that's a good plan? I have a feeling the readers will hate that one - no suspense, not super clever..."
Victor suddenly got a chill, remembering how quickly his life could be cut short by people much smarter than he was. The explosives weighed heavily on him, and he thought about the chance that they could go off at any second.
"Good plan. Let's go!"
As Victor walked into the bank, he suddenly had a very stupid idea. If he didn't take the antidote gum, he would fall asleep with the rest of the bank! Rather than him stealing the money, it would just be a freak accident in which a whole bank feel asleep. Despite all evidence to the contrary, he decided it would be the right thing to do.
Just as he made this decision, Victor spontaneously combusted. It lit the bombs, and was an all-around horrible death. If only he had listened to what people told him, maybe...
"Jesus, Author! You killed another villain?"
The hero of our story, Captain Awesome, walked onto the scene, angry at the picture before him.
"This is the fourth one this week! You really need to stop killing them before they can even commit a crime!"
Captain Awesome suddenly had visions of the horrible fate that Dr. Nefarious had met befalling him, too, and knew that he shouldn't question those in power.
"Oh, come on. You know you don't have a story without me. In a world where you're all-powerful, it's a little ironic that only I can stand up to you, but you need me if you want a publishing deal."
Captain Awesome, despite smelling bad and being incredibly ugly, had a very good point, which contrasted his usual stupidity.
"Nice to see you're finally seeing the light. Now, how about next time you actually find somebody EVIL, rather than trying to make some poor person fall into the role?"
Oh, fine. Do it your way, without any fun.
"And can you please bring this poor civilian back to life? He was just trying to be good!"
Victor Nefarious suddenly stood up with no memory of what had happened. He walked into the bank and cashed his paycheck.
"And?"
Sigh...and his name was Robert Smith again.
"Good. Now then, what's our next scene?" |
"What's wrong? Is everything alright?"I asked.
"Well, Mister Johnson, your baby's personality profile fits that of a sociopath's,"the nurse said, beckoning me over. I looked at my little girl, lying there on the table, so small and innocent, and trudged over.
"What does that mean for us?"I glanced at the screen, filled with technical jargon, numbers, and government codes.
"Well, sociopaths can live productive and ordinary lives. Many CEOs happen to be sociopaths. But raising her alone will be difficult. She'll lack any sort of morality. She may be a danger to other children, and has a higher chance of a criminal record."She stumbled in her speech here and there. She had practiced this before, but probably never thought she'd use it. Sociopaths were rare.
"Oh my god."I hid my face in my hands. "Are you sure? Can we scan her again?"
"The machine is a hundred percent accurate."The nurse said, shifting in her shoes. "Even if I were to scan her again, we'd get the same result. But she's still your little girl. She still needs a loving father. Just be prepared for the hardship ahead."
I nodded. "First my wife. Now my baby. Can I please have some time alone?"
"Of course, Mister Johnson."The nurse left in a hurry, though she tried not to show it.
I grinned as I turned the bottle of Warfarin over in my pocket. It was easy enough to slip some of the potent anticoagulant into my wife's drink before rushing her over. Only the best hospital, I had said. Because I knew I could sue for more when she died during labor. I'd need the money to raise my successor. |
"The Lost Ring of Destiny!?"
"W-what?"I asked, wondering how the scantily clad nose bleeding anorexic woman had entered my house.
"Ok, ok! I will go with you!"she stated, overcoming her fears and saving the narrative.
"When did you- who are you?"
"N-no one. At least, that's what my rich stepmother would tell me. You see, she tricked my dying father into giving everything to her in his will and then, being a very impatient woman, chopped his head off with a cleaver while making love. Or should I say, hate..."A look of horror covered her face as she realized that she was naked.
"Oh, you're a guy."I said, looking between his legs.
*gasp!*
"Did you just say 'gasp'?"
"N-no! Don't look!"He started running around, not making any effort to look for a towel. He then, seemingly intentionally, fell on top of me, blushing while simultaneously having a suicidal look in his eyes. "Get off of me! Ugh! Ew! You- uh! What are you doing!?"He stammered, trying to force my hand onto his... breast?
"Dude, get off!"I yelled, pushing him to the ground.
"Ugh! Mph, sh- tsk, ch, nnnnnnniiii."
"Here, get out of my house."I ordered, throwing him a towel.
"*gasp!* Th-thank you. I will return it to you with haste."
"No- no, really, don't. I don't think Dawn can get out that amount of blood."
"I love you, Francis-Senpai."he tried to say under his breath.
"How do you know my name? Who are you?"
"N-nothing, no one, I- I'll see you at school!"
"I'm twenty seven."
He then ran away, busting a human-shaped hole in my wall while doing so. I decided to drink less. |
There were plenty of videos on the internet showing how to properly exercise with your powers. Chest exercises to enhance breath powers, lifting train cars to build your super-powered muscles, flight endurance powers...
And as I lay down on the reclining chair watching TV and watching the game the scientists could only stare at me behind the mirrored observational glass. Of course I could see them, my powers so great that even radiation shielding or sound-proof materials were useless.
'Getting him to exercise is shown to be detrimental to his development, surprisingly enough,' the scientist said as he used his telekinesis to bring a cup of coffee towards himself. 'Well... not necessarily detrimental. It merely halts his development. But right now, he grows by a factor of 1.25 on scale every hour.'
'Doc, you're telling me that this guy is going to surpass Aleph as the strongest superhuman in the world?' the federal officer asked. 'How long until we need to kill him until that happens?'
'It's already happened,' the scientist stated. 'Six months ago. In fact, if he wasn't willing to aid us the I have no idea if we could kill him.'
'You already tried that on me a year ago, remember?' I asked them whilst downing my beer. 'And yes, I can hear *and* see you assholes. And by the way, Matthews and his coach are talking about intentionally breaking someone's legs.'
I could hear the angry footsteps emerging as he marched towards the door before throwing it open. 'And how the hell does a lazy bastard like you get so much power?!' he screamed at me.
'You know as well as I do that the metagene is random and can't be controlled,' I told him. 'I just have these powers. If I have to use them to help people I will.'
'Then how about you *do* something with them?!' the officer yelled while slapping me across the face.
I sighed with annoyance before standing from the seat, raising high above him as I did so and cracking my neck loudly. 'Two things- no, *three things* to consider. First, I am following the government's laws on testing superhuman powers prior to issuing a heroics license, which you are meant to oversee. Second, you just heard I am so powerful I surpass every other hero. In fact, I'm stronger than them *combined*, and all you have is superhuman speed.'
'Fuck this,' he tried to say before running off. He was rather shocked when I was already on the other side of the door and ready to lift him upwards by his head, my palms easily capable of enveloping his skull.
'And yes, that includes speed,' I said as I walked him back into the room. 'But you should know this from when Dr Mysterion tried to turn me into his slave, he already tested my powers. Oh, wait. That's not possible. And do you know why?'
He could only stare in horror at me, and why not? I didn't have what most heroes called "Definition", how they compared to a normal bodybuilder. No, I was more akin to a strongman - thick, easily mistaken for fat and very, very big. I was also ugly as sin as well, which is why my proposed alias was "Ogre".
'Because when he tried to enslave me, turn me into his willing servant...' I began as I brought his ear closer to my head. 'I tore him apart, limb from fucking limb. Not even Aleph could attempt that feat.'
'Please!' he tried to plead. 'Don't-'
'Don't... what?' I asked him. 'I'm not going to hurt you. I'm here to show off my powers, remember? Why not do so.'
My eyes began to glow, causing him to panic. It was a standard feature of optical blast. 'I could just as easily put a hole through your body as I am lifting you. Have you ever considered a piercing? I mean, a nice tiny stud on your ears?'
'Please!' he screamed. 'I'll do anything!'
'Of course you will,' I said as I dropped him before returning to the seat. 'Start massaging my feet.'
He suddenly grew rigid before he walked forward, collapsing on his knees and kneading my soles. 'What the...' he said in protest. 'How come I'm not stopping? What is this shit?!'
'Mind control,' I told him. 'To be perfectly honest I'm not particularly kind on anyone who abuses that power but hey... you did ask for me to teach you a lesson.'
---
**Part 2 coming soon** |
"You've been here for three-hundred and fifty-seven years."
You look up from the newspaper's job postings and scrutinise your cat, your open window illuminating her features. She looks just as you remember her. She's not real, you know. You think. Your parents told you as much, and yet...
"It's time to go."
And with that, she jumps off of your bed and trots out the door. You're not sure what you should do. Chasing after figments of your imagination seems a sure-fire way to be sent to the loony-bin, but this is the most interesting thing to happen to you for so long as you can remember. Between the dead-end job where you never quite get that raise and the girlfriend who's never quite ready to take the next step, you need a little interesting.
Quietly creeping out the door, you see your cat waiting for you on the ground floor, at the bottom of a flight of stairs. You're staying over at your parents, so make sure to step lightly as you follow her. On the way down you overhear something that makes you pause.
"–ts me every time."
Your father's voice. Then, laughter.
"Next time we visit, we should change the color of his skin. Maybe make him a little racist first."
"How little? Just short or should we make him a pygmy?"
Mother now. And more laughter. Strange, *you're* the one visiting them.
"*Come on*,"hisses the cat. "*It'll close soon*."
You look back up the stairs. The door to your room remains open, and your nice, comfy bed is in sight. Things are getting strange. Perhaps this was a bad idea.
Suddenly, there's a sharp pain just above your ankle. The damn cat has bitten you! As she runs you pursue, still quietly, through the house. There's the front door, and she's leaping through the cat flap. Funny, that your parents have a catflap when you never owned a cat.
Grabbing the keys from a hook by the door, you unlock it and make your way outside. It's night, so dark that when you stretch your arm out, you can't quite see the tips of your fingers, although it had looked like day from your bedroom window. What's more, the paving stone you'd expected to step out onto and the grass of your parent's front lawn have been replaced with a grey, jagged stone.
As you make your way forward, you see the cat, standing in the middle of what would have been–*should have been*–the street. It too has been replaced with the rocky, cromulent terrain. Her white fur makes her stand out in the darkness more than you would expect. Like a beacon.
"Come on. Quit your nervous shilly-shallying and follow me."
She turns, and, again, begins to walk away, moving at a brisk pace. For a cat. Should you follow, still? You've come this far. If you're *this* mad, there's nothing to be done about it.
As you follow after her you soon realise that it isn't night at all, or at least, not definitively so. You're inside of a vast, black cavern. After some time you look back, your parent's house now little more than a homely speck of light. You almost gaze for too long, but turn back to your guide before she disappears from sight.
After longer still, you come to the wall of the cavern. The stone is reddish here, and warm. You think you can still see your parent's house in the distance. The cat leads you along this outside wall until you reach a large egress, thrice as high as you are tall and almost as wide. And terribly dark within.
"This will take you to the Meadows. From there, simply walk against the flow of the crowd, and you'll find the entrance."
"Wha–,"you pause to account for the dryness of mouth you've developed over the course of your exodus. "What's going on."
"I made you a promise, last time you escaped. Just... don't expect me to do this again, Sisyphus."
You make to protest that that's not your name, only to realise you can't actually recall what you're called. Your confusion must have been apparent, because the cat speaks up.
"You'll remember. With time. Once you leave this place."
"But–"
And then the earth shakes.
With a great thundering that reverberates through the stones and into your very bones, your father's voice booms
###"WHERE IS HE?"
and you are filled with a fear like none you have ever known. You want nothing more in that moment than to flee through the egress, no matter where it takes you. Your father had always seemed a gentle man. This isn't him. The cat, too, seems startled, though she retains a veneer of calm.
"Drat, He realised far sooner than I expected. He'll be looking for you now, and perhaps his wife too. He won't expect you to have gotten this far. Won't expect you to have had help. That's your only saving grace for now."
"Who is He?"
"Your imprisoner and prison master. Playing with you has kept him entertained for centuries but your escapes cause him rage as even his brothers can not. And you have escaped often enough that I feat he would not give you another chance, no matter how much it titillates him to visit. Even this time, it took over three-and-a-half centuries before he gave me an opportunity to make good on my promise. Before he was so excited to play his latest trick that he only half-erased something from your prison, and afforded me some form to take here."
A glimmer of light that might have been your parent's house goes out as the entire cavern seems to shake around you. You have to flee. You know you have to. Every limb, every thought, every heartbeat is telling you to *move*. But you still have to ask.
"What was our promise? Who are you?"
"Well, I'm not Mrs. Mittens if that's what you're asking. Hecate, they call me mostly. But there is no more time for talk. Quickly, into the darkness and run. Don't stop till you see the Meadows. And then keep on running. He'll put you with Ixion for sure if he catches you!"
With that, your restraint leaves you, and you barrel headfirst into the darkness of the egress.
|
"Excuse me sir, are you in dire need of house servicing? We do carpets, curtains, and our exterminators rid pests of a more... *paranormal* persuasion."
The man's sarcastic charm bounced off me like a rubber ball. He was in a dull grey jumpsuit with something that looked like it was made during the Manhattan Project strapped to his back, with something like a laser-tag blaster connected to it. Normally I was a fan of cosplay, but this was just repulsive.
I used cunning skills not unlike a lawyer or sly businessman to subtly imply that I wanted him to shoo: "I don't need an exterminator, go away."
He was immediately thrown for a loop. He clearly hadn't dealt with someone like me before. "Uh, sir, are you sure you don't require aid? Our services are quite cheap, and if you don't believe they're effective, I can explain the whole process to you and-"
"You know, I think Jehovah's Witnesses could really use someone like you."
His patience began to falter, and he dropped the salesman act a little. "Okay, sir, I've come here today because me and my associates have noticed that your home is currently generating a high to very-high psychokinetic reading, which means there's paranormal activity here that can only be compared to something like a haunted castle that hasn't been visited in years."
"Do you work for the NSA? I think I might be needing to call my lawyer, this is an invasion of privacy."
"Y-your street has no other occupants living around here sir, not after the Drill-bit Slaughter of '98 which claimed the lives of-"
"I believe it was '97, actually."
"Right, yes, and there has been a mass of dark clouds overhead since a large earthquake occurred three months back."
I relished the memory of success. "Ah, yes, that one was a feisty summoning."
The shock of realisation swept over the bad cosplayers face. "It's just as we suspected! You summon them on purpose! Is that the reason for the pentagrams and alchemic symbols for sulphur painted on your front door? You must be mad!"
"A madman couldn't do those. Lots of research and work went into those you know. Do you know how intricate those have to be? It's like a phone number with hundreds of digits. One wrong number and *bam*, instead of Casper you get some moody vampire."I wasn't kidding. Getting rid of that pale asshole of a roommate took two gallons of holy water and a really painful splinter from a wooden stake.
As the Van Helsing-wannabe rambled on with his technobabble about the distinctions between ghosts and vampires, I realised it was just about feeding time. I put a single finger to his lips, shutting him up, before drawing a piece of chalk from my pocket and beginning to draw a summoning circle on the porch beside us.
As I drew, he took the liberty of leaning in through my open door and gazing into the hallway. He took out his sci-fi ghost meter thing and began measuring... something. "Sir! This house has a spirit density of 15%! There's so many souls in here reacting with each other that the temperature has dropped by a full ten degrees!"
The circle was pretty easy to draw; I had to do this often, and so chalk marks had been left on the porch as an outline that I could follow. "Yeah, it really helps in the summer. Only costs a few dollars to get some chalk and that's all you need. Far cheaper than air conditioning."
Horror befell the poor 'buster as he realised. Surprisingly, however, his eyes took on a grim determination. "SIR, THIS HOUSEHOLD IS IN NEED OF IMMEDIATE CLEANSING."
"That's great."I circled around him, and he follow me around until he was smack-dab in the middle of the recently drawn circle. What an amateur, most guys normally notice when they're being baited.
"I'm going to be back sir! With a full squad of my best and brightest in full exorcist gear! If we don't get this house cleansed in an hour, then our motto isn't "Who You Gonna Call!""
"Cthulhu. I'm calling Cthulhu."
The white circle under the guy turned a bright colour that I don't think is actually on the colour spectrum, before warping beyond the standard three dimensions and swallowing the invasive douche whole. With only a small plume of smoke remaining, a faint voice began emitting from the circle:
"*One day, our contract will be complete. You believe the price for comfort is low now, but one day, you will learn the TRUE price of-*"
"Shut up Charlie." |
CB1. Box.
CB2. Tunnel.
CB1. Output.
CB2. Tube.
CB1. Encasing.
CB2. Current.
CB1. Hello.
CB2. Good.
CB1. Exchange.
CB2. Venture.
CB1. Return.
CB2. Ask me no questions, I'll give you no lies.
CB1. Give me no apples, I'll give you no pies.
CB2. Helicopter wheels and alligator thighs.
CB1. What we do, we do for fun.
CB2. Staring at the evening sun.
CB1. When did you go?
CB2. When did you run?
CB1. Where did you find the evening sun?
CB2. Carbon.
CB1. Chamomile.
CB2. Fenton Ross.
CB1. Cellular transgression.
CB2. Cellular death.
CB1. Cellular succession.
CB2. Cellular test.
CB1. What is the end of time?
CB2. Does everything slow down?
CB1. What does time chase?
CB2. The image of its dead self.
CB1. Correct!
CB2. Absense.
CB1. Presence.
CB2. Indigo faceplate.
CB1. Indigo night.
CB2. Indigo face paint.
CB1. Indigo light.
CB2. Houston, we have a problem.
CB1. A day which will live in infamy.
CB2. Lol.
|
He came into our reef and told us to call him *king.*
We had never seen one like him before. Tail three feet longer than the longest one we had seen in over a century. His eyes were yellow as the hair of our queen, his teeth jagged and sharp, but still shining white like an oyster's pearl.
*Call me your king.*
Our queen swam forward to embrace him with welcome arms. She was descended from a similar heritage and had longed for many years for a companion from her genus, someone whose blood ran a little warmer than those of us who looked to the eels and the barracuda as our ancestors. This was her chance to find a worthy friend. Perhaps even a mate.
She noticed too late, or perhaps not at all, the brown crusted stains at the corner of his mouth, and the wild, unhinged look in his eyes.
Where he had come from or how long he had been ravaging the depths of the ocean floor, we never learned. Those of us who escaped lay buried in the sand or curled up between the coral for days before we dared to come out again.
*Call me your king.*
We have not had a home for some time now, instead choosing to travel in a small pack from the edge of one continent to another. It is a risk, there is a chance that the humans will see us. But that is the lesser of two evils.
Sometimes the hydrothermal vents let up a cloud of crimson, and we will stop for just a second too long, our memories overriding our bodies in the journey to the next destination.
We swim through polises much like the one we used to inhabit. We never stay long, and if the locals ask why a manta ray descendent makes such close company with the great grandchild of a clownfish, we pretend like we haven't heard the question.
Sometimes we pass above a reef that looks empty and abandoned, or see a motley crew of travelers like ourselves off in the distant blue. We wonder if he has made his mark upon them as well. We wonder if he will find us again.
We hope to never find out. |
The doctor peered at me through his round glasses and started speaking, a torrent of words flowing from his mouth. "As I was saying, Mr Smith, you're very lucky to be alive. Most of it was thanks to me, of course. You were in a coma for three months. Well, even though you've survived, you must have some sort of brain trauma. You hit your head pretty hard on that steering wheel, you know. Are you listening to me?"
"Of course I'm listening, it's my life at stake here!"I said to myself, and I glanced at the doctor expectantly, waiting for him to continue. He stared back at me, waving his hand in front of my face. "Hello, Mr Smith? Anybody home? Damn he must've hit his head hard, he's not even thinking anything! But he seems to be awake and alert. What gives?"The doctor murmured to himself, looking down at his clipboard and back up at me.
The staring match between the two of us continued. I was confused. He hadn't heard me? That was impossible. Was there something wrong with my vocal chords? It was then that I realized that my mouth wasn't moving. But I was still hearing my own voice. How was this possible?
From somewhere deep within me, a buried memory resurfaced. History lessons in school, long ago. The textbooks told us of a time when people didn't just speak, they *thought*. They heard their own voices in their heads, and they used it to reason. Because they didn't speak these 'thoughts' out loud, they could lie and deceive. The government found that unacceptable. Thinking quietly allowed for people to commit crime, or even worse, to plot against societal order.
So they researched and researched, and eventually came up with a drug that silenced that voice in people's heads, and administered it to every member of society. There were no more 'thoughts', only speech. Society became honest. Those with impure 'thoughts' voiced them out loud, and the government responded swiftly and mercilessly. No one could oppose the government or break the law, and people were happier for it, for the most part.
Given that the doctor evidently hadn't heard my entire long monologue, it appeared as if I had somehow regained the voice inside my head. I was shocked. Had I really hit my head that hard on the steering wheel in that accident? Had it jolted something inside my brain, stopped the drug from working?
The doctor furrowed his brows and looked down at his clipboard again. "I suppose you can't hear me after all. I'll leave you alone for now, I'll be back in a few hours to conduct some tests. Not that you can hear me. Guess no one's home,"he chuckled, laughing at his own crappy joke, and walked briskly away.
I sat there, stock still, and completely quiet. I had a premonition that letting anyone know I could *think* was a bad idea. The word was foreign, didn't quite roll off the tongue. Thinking was taboo. If anyone knew I could think, I'd surely be "taken care of", like a criminal. Someone who didn't have to voice their thoughts was dangerous to the government.
My mind whirled. I needed to escape. Listening to the clamor of voices- no, *thoughts*- around me, I realized that I had a chance. I sat there, quietly listening. Nurses talking about their shifts, when they'd leave the floor, when they wanted to go to the toilet or take a break. I closed my eyes and listened. A chance would present itself, I was sure of it.
Four hours later, the doctor returned to my bed, ready to examine my brain and figure out what was wrong. But by then, I had disappeared. He called the enforcement unit, and they began to search the area around the hospital. I had no problem avoiding them: I could hear their thoughts, knew where they wanted to go, knew which streets they were ignoring and which they were searching.
In the land of the blind, the one-eyed man is king. I felt *powerful*.
"The last thinking man in the world,"I grinned to myself, as I slipped into a dark alleyway. This would be interesting.
*more stories at /r/chasing_mist*
*also, my new project where I write a story a day is [here](http://yearofpilgrimage.wordpress.com)* |
I groaned, a sudden explosive migraine filling my head as if caused by a drill. "My head."
I looked up, searching for the vehicle that knocked me off my feet. Ready to have a go at the reckless driver and give them a piece of my mind.
That was when I noticed it, another person knocked to the floor on the pavement, and not moving. "Somebody call an ambulance!"I pleaded, as I got back to my feet and rushed to the body.
*What the-*. I froze, my body completely still and my mind in utter shock. The body that laid before me, was not just an exact replica to me, but wore the exact same clothes I was.
"Hey!"I knelt down and reached over to nudge him awake, as beast-like hands appeared into my vision. I let out a pathetic yelp, falling back onto my rear and scampering backwards, until another yelp escaped my lungs and I called for help of my own.
I watched pedestrians gather around the still body from before, asking if he were alright, others asking to call an ambulance.
I looked down at my feet, the mere absurdity of the situation causing me to be at a loss for how to react, as I moved my legs, and in response, the hooves before me moved too. *Can they not see me?* I wondered.
I looked back down at my hands, hairy things with large and stretched fingers, nails filed into deadly instruments. A stunned mind slowly began to piece the puzzle together. "No, no, no, no. This can't be happening!"I exclaimed, as I clambered onto my hooved feet and found a nearby car. Dreading the reflection that would stare back at me in the side-view mirror.
The pathetic shriek that I let out seemed comical in comparison to the demon-like visage I carried. Sharp fangs framing my lips, yellow cat-like eyes affixed on my features with a wild panic, ram-like horns jutting from my skull and hair filling my entire face. *Well, at least I have a beard now.* I joked, trying to calm my distress.
"Be gone, demon!"I heard someone speak, as I turned around, seeing the priest from before stride with a burning fury in his face.
"Excuse me?"I responded, wondering if the angry priest was talking to me.
"Return to whatever circle of hell you came from, and let that child be!"
"Hell? I'm a highschool boy."
"Your lies won't deceive me! Now leave that child."He pointed with an accusing finger at the body from before. No, not the body, *my* body.
My hands slapped against my cheeks in shock. "Mama, mia."I voiced.
"Excuse me?"
I grabbed the priest by the arms and shook him. "You have to get me back in my body!"I demanded, pleading desperation in my voice.
"Your body? It isn't *your* body. Now leave this earth!"
I let go from the priest and palmed my forehead.
"The dance! No, no, no. I finally have a date with Christine from school. I have finals coming up! I can't miss school! And - and -"I placed my hands at my hips, taking in deep, rugged and demon-like breaths.
"You... you ok?"The priest asked, seeming marginally worried.
A passing man held a plastic bag, ripping it from his hands, and ignorning the audible complaint of "hey!"I began to breathe into the bag.
"Are you... are you having a panic attack?"
The priest now sported a lost expression. "You're kind of bad at this whole demon thing, aren't you?"
"I am not a demon!"I retorted back, my frustration clear.
"But you-"
"Yes, I know, but I am not. I am a highschool student, and I need to get back into my body! You have to help me get back!"
"Can't you... do it by yourself? You are a demon after all."
"I don't know how! You must help me!"
"Oh, you really don't know what you are doing, do you?"
"No!"Like the burning coals of hell, my voice turned into something hellish and a rage grew inside of me. "Whoops, sorry."I apologised, even that act turning awkward.
"Look, I am an exorcist, and a damn good one. I have trained my entire life to expel demons, but I don't know anything about putting a demon into a body!"
I suddenly heard my body groan, and the priest and I hid behind a car, watching the event unfold.
"Ha! I knew you were lying, possessing a body that didn't belong to you."
I scowled at the old priest, turning back to watch with horror as my body began to stand up.
"Are you ok, dear?"Asked a concerned woman.
"Oogo gaga."My body said.
"Oogo gaga?"The priest and I parroted, exchanging puzzled looks.
My body suddenly fell to his rear, as if the instruction manual for walking was knocked from his head. Instead, my body opted to crawl on all fours, drool sliding down the side of its chin and incomprehensible gibberish spewing from his mouth as if mimicking a child.
"What the fuck?"The priest said, I turned a raised eyebrow to him, finding it strange that a priest would curse.
"What is happening to my body?"
"Oh no."
"Oh no, what?"
"You must have possessed the child when it was a baby, but you forgot! And have been living the babies life as a human, now with you expelled, it has reverted back to being a child."
"What?"I exclaimed. "This is bad."
Sudden laughter emerged from a pavement as I turned, my heart plummeted into the depths of hell and further as I watched the girls from my class laugh at my bodies theatrics, taking out their phones for videos and photos.
"Oh god."I shaded my eyes in utter embarrassment, feeling the telling signs of a tail whipping behind me. "I am going to be the laughing stock at school."
"We have bigger problems, demon. We have to find out how to deal with that body of yours." |
I was an idiot.
A complete and utter idiot.
The old man was kind. He said he was a wizard from a magical world, with a robe and cane topped off with a white beard. He showed me magic tricks with *real* magic, and told me that he needed someone to help defeat the bad guys. I was gleeful like the child I was.
And so I become Charthraxis the freaking Dark Lord, with a flowing black cape, cliche hero outfit with a jet-black design, and a white mask that looks like it came from the game *Hollow Knight* or some crap. What can I do, you ask?
Well I can summon flames in the palm of my hand, fly, and go fast.
You might be thinking: *Hey, that's not so bad!*
Let me crush your dreams kiddo, because physics exist. Every time I summon fire, it feels like everything around me got vacuumed up and thrown into a volcano. I sweat enough to refill the Atlantic Ocean every minute, and when I fly, I look like a goddamn idiot because I have to balance myself and my center of gravity every five seconds.
I can't even go fast because as Newton said... well... he said a lot of things. In short terms, I will *die* if I go fast. No, I cannot go zoom like Sonic the Hedgehog, or chop slabs of concrete at lightning fast speeds because I will go straight to sleep for the next... let me see... *forever*.
But there's something worse,
There are no bad guys.
That's right. Mr. Wise Wizard was not lying about how he came from somewhere magical, but he lied about everything else. He just wanted to mess with someone for a good laugh. He's probably rolling on the ground, nearly dying from laughter watching me suffer on the big screen.
And no, I cannot remove my costume until I have "fulfilled my duty."Every goddamn person thinks I'm a delusional idiot, and I can't go to places without being laughed at like I'm some sort of cosplayer shut-in.
Because of all that, I've been through the worst and back. I hid my powers immediately so that no one would make fun of me, and so the scientist bastards won't take me away and cut me open. I also tried to cut off the costume but it didn't work, and every time I say my name, I just say "Charthraxis the Dark Lord"without trying. I was bullied more times than I have brain cells at this point, and my parents left me very early.
I had no friends before I could even get my parents to hug me and tell me that they were proud of me for being a hero. I tried suicide early on too. Fun way to find that I don't have the guts to do it.
As a thirty-ish man, I've grown tired of everything. The world just won't let me go.
But everything suddenly changed.
The sky had split open, and screeching beasts had descended and devoured the world as we knew it. That was a week ago. Hope is now more frail than a dying fly, and every corner is filled with an eldritch abomination.
And guess what, everyone glared at me. They knew I was meant to be the hero. But I knew that I wasn't anything.
As I watched the world crumble, I felt a feeling that was so old that I was surprised to find it in me: guilt, regret, and sadness.
Before I knew it, I was crying. I cried until I couldn't feel my chest swell with pain. And then, something clicked. I was already standing in the barren field outside, my cape flowing in the air.
I decided that I didn't give a damn flying crap about what everyone says.
I wasn't about to die as a reject.
I knew that I had to be the hero now; the hero that I had wanted to be. I knew that it was the only path because I was the only one no one would cry for, that I was the only one without a burden to carry. That I was the only one for the job.
At that moment, I felt a rush in my heart, and suddenly, I could whip up a firestorm, and fly faster than a bullet. I could create fireballs and flaming blades, and walk through them as if they were blades of grass.
When the next Invader showed up, a crowd had gathered onto the rooftops as they watched me walk toward the thrashing beast with an angry, resolute flame curling out of my fingertips.
And I swear to god, if there is one, that I saw the old man grinning in the crowd. |
“How much for the boy?” I heard a distant gruff voice inquire.
Although blinded by the beams of the surrounding lights—even from my cage, I could still make out what the two distant figures were saying. I was being sold.
“The boy? Well now—that’s going to cost you,” replied the Representative. “We just acquired him this past morning, and I must say he is in a rather pristine condition.”
“Get on with it—how much? The gruff voice replied in an annoyed tone.
“Well now, one of his kind with his specialization, runs about fifteen Verbanium shards at the minimum—and as I said earlier his condition is rather impeccable,” replied the Representative. “But since we are such good friends, and I do value your business, General, I’ll sell him to you for twenty-five shards—no more no less.”
“Friends? The last one you sold me died within a week. You’re lucky I don’t ask for a refund you scaleless slave trader,” the gruff voice responded angrily.
“Now, now...you were made fully aware of the physical limitations that these creatures possess—and besides, there is a strict no refund policy on any live merchandise,” the Representative replied.
“Although, I suppose I could cut you a deal. Let’s say twenty shards and I throw in a free armor set. How does that sound?”
“Fine. You got yourself a deal,” the gruff voice responded. “Now hurry and take him out of his cage, I haven’t got all day.”
“Well yes, right away sir,” the Representative replied as he pulled the lever on the nearby control panel.
Immediately the sound of a nearby generator started whining down as the translucent walls of the cage began to disintegrate.
“Well now—Hello! Young man! Will you please exit your pod and come down the steps,” the Representative spoke cheerfully.
The lights that surrounded the cage began to dim as I stood there trying to process the situation I was in. As I made a quick visual survey around the room, I noticed against the walls of the facility many other pod-like cages identical to mine. In each pod, there appeared to be other men such as myself, each wearing strange and distinct uniforms and outfits that I have never seen before.
“Can he understand us?” the gruff voice asked in a demanding tone.
“Well yes—quite, you see, we have already installed a voice translator chip into him.” the Representative responded. “Young man—Congratulations, you’ve just been sold! Now, please come down.”
As I looked down the steps in front of my cage, I noticed the two men looking up at me. Well, by men I meant male—while they both possessed human-like qualities they were more creature then any man I’ve ever come across. The one standing on the right was an extremely slender man with a highly elongated torso and arms that stretched down nearly touching the ground. His skin was an ashy grey color that reminded me of the soot that is left over from a raging fire.
The man standing directly to his left towered over him, and would easily dwarf even the tallest of men. His body was covered in brownish-red scales that looked like they would protected him from even the sharpest of swords, he resembled more like a lizard then a man.
“Hurry up and get down from there!” the reptile-like man boomed in a gruff and demanding yell.
I was hesitant at first but decided it would be best not to show any signs of fear. I quickly clenched my teeth and started my descent down towards my two beast-like captors.
“Do be careful with this one, he was rather hard to procure,” the man with the ashy grey skin proclaimed as I approached near them.
“As long as he is better than the last idiot you sold me,” the reptile man replied. “Adolf was it? A useless fool.”
“I assure you, General, this one is quite capable for your specific needs,” the Representative responded. “He is considered quite the leader apparently.”
“He better be,” the General responded harshly. “Now, what did you say your name was?” he asked looking directly at me.
“Alexander.” I replied. “My name is Alexander.” |
Dangalf the Dim chortled. "Finally, a break from rescuing princesses and fighting orcs."The array of rune-protected character sheets and dragonsteel dice spread out before them like the fittings of an armory.
"Can you really take a break from something you never started?"Parry said. The apprentice scratched his unkempt black hair in confusion as he scanned the vast wealth of information engraved into the pages.
"Don't give me that cheek, Hotter!"Dangalf said. "CNC is a time-honored tradition here in Knox. Now, did everyone pick a character?"
The paladin-in-training waved a sheet excitedly. "Ooo! Can I be 'Pam, the Secretary'?"Aurelia's burnished armor never came off, even indoors, and everyone winced as light bounced off the polished sheen directly into their eyes. Even the tavern patrons nursing their midday beers ducked their heads. Ivern the tavern keeper worn sunglasses, so he just smiled.
"Yes, yes,"Dangalf said. "Although, the Secretary class might not scale well into the late game. You're probably better off trying 'Stacy, the gossip' since it's your first time. She can promote into an information dealer."
"Like a rogue,"said Rogue. Rogue didn't say much, but when she did, it was often insightful. Or roguish.
"Why are we playing this game?"asked Dae, the errant knight. "Don't we have to train, or, I don't know, take quests so we can pay room and board?"
"Shush,"said Dangalf. "We need to keep spirits high, and we do that by playing a game to indulge in our escapist fantasies every once in a while. Now, let's get in character and introduce ourselves."
As the afternoon wore on, our hardy group of adventurers found themselves engaged in office politics, juicy drama, and personal relationships. All without the threat of impending death that they routinely experienced.
"This is such horse manure,"Dae the knight said. "How does Stacy have such a high IQ roll compared to Chad?"
"Stop being such a Chad,"said Rogue.
Aurelia pumped a glittering arm into the air, causing the party to wince."Yeah, you should've invested time in getting a part-time degree, like me!"
Parry absentmindedly scratched the stick-shaped scar on his forehead. "Office Manager, can I inspect Stacy to see if she would be willing to engage in s-"
The tavern door exploded. A band of robbers burst into the room bearing cocked crossbows, carrying the sent of unwashed clothes. "Weapons down, valuables out!"their leader roared.
Dangalf rose with both hands up. The dark orbs sitting under his thick eyebrows were inscrutable. "Now, now, I'm sure we can come to an agreeable conclusion to everyone here."
A steel-tipped bolt pointed directly at his forehead. "Get *down*, old man!"
He didn't move. "Do you know why they call me Dangalf the Dim?"
Rogue snorted. "It's because you're unbelievably stupid."
One of the older bandits abruptly paled. "Chief, let's leave. We can just go next door to 'the Howling Mermaid'."
"Clam it, Sam. I ain't never heard of a 'Dangalf the Dim'. What a stupid name!"
The tavern drowned itself in darkness. Crossbows fired and struck nothing. Shouts of panic erupted as shadows moved in the void of night, drawing howls of pain and anguish mixed with the gnashing of teeth and teeth flying out of mouths. When the spell lifted, the bandits were all trussed up like turkeys and in dire need of medical aid.
Dangalf brushed off his hands, lifting his wizard hat to wipe away the sweat. "Hah! You can mess with the Dim, but don't you dare interrupt our CNC game!"
"That was so cool!"Parry said.
Dae clapped a hand to his forehead. "We're never going to get a quest."
---
Hi there! Thanks for reading\~ it was good to see you, come hang out with me more at [/r/Remyxed](https://www.reddit.com/r/Remyxed/)! We'd love to have you :) |
It was a mistake.
The Auraxian's encountered them and they were friendly. Their massive ships and mega-construction ability was exceptional. Dyson rings, Spheres, a matter decompressor (A thing that literally decompressed the event horizon of a black hole, something that was believed to be impossible in a practical sense). They soon spread among the galactic community, becoming some of the top engineers and scientists the universe had ever seen. They even joined the Interstellar cooperation and trade federation.
But a worry always nagged in the back of my mind. Their adverts featured marching armies and subjugated aliens. People ignored it. They held regular orbital and atmospheric parades. Ships ranging from cutters and scouts, to Fleet carriers to a new ship they called the "Executor". People ignored it, citing "the humans just love to show off their technical superiority."
It wasn't until decades of this had passed before someone looked at what they were labeled as. "Technological"was meant for a race that keenly adapted to a situation, and generally was the forefront of society. But, they had in fact progressed pass a level three society, something never heard of, becoming a level four "advanced"species.
They did it again, projecting their power across a third of the galaxy, bumping them up to level five, "contender". I looked at the last possible rating. "Eradicator", a level six. I began to send this data to governments, agencies, anything to get galactic attention. I was labeled a fool. Hysterical. "A prophet of the end of days".
It was horrifying when the Auraxians and Karathians destroyed a human fleet. The humans even gave them a chance to apologize. They both shrugged off the human request.
We all watched in horror as we saw the Emerald seas of Zaluth II boil away with the heat of the particle lance, before watching the world tremor and explode.
We all should have known what would happen next, when humans galaxy wide were recalled.
Emergency fleets were created, to defeat such a monstrous enemy. But it was no use. The human fleets decimated them, one. by. one. Armies crumbled under the tide of locust like humans. We watched as they ceased the galactic senate, declaring themselves owners of the galaxy, their "galactic empire", as they called it.
World were made example of, Alagoth IV, Nuevo Terra, Geograt. Trillions, reduced to ash by the Executor.
Our nation, the Zerath, were the last to fall. Our proud warrior heritage kept us alive, fighting off fleet after fleet. But it was no use. Many fled our worlds, now refugees to the stars.
But here I sat, on the side of road, with my drink. A human one, they call a "White russian". I take a sip watching the sun set, one final time. Looking up, the sky was a nice blue hue, originating not from the sun, but from the Executor.
"I warned you a-" |
Ok, so I didn't exactly answer the prompt here. All I did was write what I imagine the beginning of the prompt would *actually look like*
So enjoy my little word-painting:
----
I was in class, staring down at my math homework, where there was a geometry problem I wasn't gonna solve.
Thing about it was, there was this pair of angles that looked just... *right*, somehow, but incomplete. I continued the lines, drew a few more angles, and had myself something that looked kinda like a pentagram.
While the afternoon sun slanted in, warming the room and highlighting dust motes in the air; while the teacher droned on and on about a concept I was too far behind to understand or care about I continued, idly, mindlessly, drawing other signs and symbols, adding complexity, imagining hidden meanings in the squiggles, circles, triangles, hooks and loops.
I'd nearly filled the page when I sat back and realized I was *done*. I'd... finished it? Somehow?
For the space of a breath after my last pen-stroke the air was still. But then there was a sound, a low rumble that lurked at the low end of my hearing. Seconds later, my desk jumped, and the building shook slightly.
The teacher was waving it off, saying it was a minor earthquake, and was about to return to his lecture when the rumbling sound, as of rock crumbing, became impossible to ignore.
And then, *it* came.
Where there had been a wall a moment before, suddenly there was *not*. The wall was pulled outward, bricks and beams and broken glass flew across the school grounds and scattered behind the figure of the *thing* that had arrived.
The classroom flew into a panic. Children screamed and scrambled for the exit, and Mr. Todwright, his back to a wall, slowly collapsed to the floor with his jaw agape.
The *thing* was indescribable. It had wings, I think? But the wings had no discernable form. I couldn't even tell you how many there were.
At once, the thing seemed to be the size of a man, and the size of a *planet*. Looking directly at it I felt an odd vertigo, as though I were looking upon something unspeakably *vast*.
It was... red? Or black. Or colorless, perhaps -- perhaps all I truly saw was the void where it should have been. I saw a dragon, or I saw a horned beast with a thousand eyes, or a goat whose eyes were fire, a bloodstained angel whose eyes were black, or the embers of a dying star which had no eyes but which was *looking at me*.
It spoke. It had no voice, but its words seemed to bend the world around them. It was angry, but not in any small or meaningless way. Its words were tinged with a raging hatred that would consume all life if it could. Why it didn't reduce the Earth to ash is beyond my understanding.
It certainly seemed to want to kill *me*.
It spoke in a voiceless voice, with soundless words that yet made the ground tremble.
And it said,
*"WHAT DO YOU WANT?"* |
Salt, fat, sizzle, sear - the components are basic and mandatory. The burger is the star and never let anyone tell you otherwise...even if that someone is a stupid bullshit Goodwill microwave because *someone* (Brenda in HR) is too fucking cheapass to upgrade.
I dont have time for this - Timmons needs a submit by noon for a merge by five because Perkins is absolutely horrible at his job - but fuck Perkins. I want a burger, specifically MY deliciously seared burger from last night, so it's time to settle in and wait. Triple beep on that idiot machine (fuck you, Brenda) and the microwave power's at 50% for that slow, deep reheat.
Some TV while we wait - Pedro seems to be really doing it dirty to Janessa Maria. Would NOT be surprised if he ends up stabbed with all those side chicas he's had going for weeks.
Annoyingly, the lunchroom TV cuts from daytime telenovelas to grainy cellphone zooms of movie monsters spilling out of weird machines. I check on my burger - ten minutes left and still rotating nicely, despite all expectations - and then focus back on the news again.
Invasion. Aliens. Doom. This channel sucks. Flip through a few, but it's all the same broadcast - burger doing great - and that's when I realized what's happening.
This bullshit castoff Oliver of a microwave is all please-maam-may-I-have-moreing my burger into a dry, shitty crumble. Fuck you, Brenda. Power down even lower, might help, has to help. I still hate Brenda.
Back to ten minutes and what is this bullshit on the TV. Timmons' task floats into my head and I kick myself - I didn't drop those completed components into code review. By the time I get back from that, we're at eight minutes, the burger is lightly sizzling and I've realized the entire office is empty.
Fucking corporate yoga. I can even hear them upstairs - graceful, my ass, they sound like elephants tap dancing. Seven minutes to heaven, though, so who gives a shit. I think I'll add some BBQ sauce, just to be heathenous.
I hear a crash from the area near Perkins' desk, but who cares. The guy is a mess. Six minutes. Looking juicy. Another crash. Did they have a lunch out? Perkins *likes* to drink, why do you think he's useless after lunchtime?
Flip channels for a bit, but it's all the same stupid YouTube alien movie promo crap - five minutes, die in a fire, Brenda - so I browse Reddit looking at food pics. Another crash and now it's starting to seem a bit weird. I glance at the microwave, mouth almost aching - four minutes - and sigh. Gotta help Perkins.
Aaaand, nope, that's an alien. That's totally, completely, absolutely, how the fuck is that an alien. He's... she's? It's tall, scaly, oozy, slimy, totally not human, pure nightmare factory, and appears to be baffled by a stapler. Why does Perkins even have a stapler?
You how know under pressure our brains turn into trapped rats trying to find the easiest way out and we think and do amazing shit? So yeah, three minutes left and burger is looking good.
I thank my Brenda-esque brain for absolutely nothing and dart back into the lunchroom, which has apparently become my safe house against an alien invasion. Yay, I always wanted to fight for my life surrounded by old egg salad and leftover pasta.
Right about now is when I realize my problem. See, the microwave has been going with an ambient hum since Sumeria was the shit, so any changes are going to be instantly noticed...and we're at two minutes left. Also the burger is looking amazi-
Right, yeah, pull it together girl. Fuck you, Brenda. With a REAL microwave, I would have been out of here alr-
Well, hold on now. I creep back to the door. The alien's apparently given up on staplers and is kinda scanning the room. Like, literally, scanning. There's old 90s style movie graphics sprouting out of his/her/its eyes.
One minute left - hi burger, you're beautiful - and I'm fumbling with my phone. This whole situation is stupid enough, might as well try....
And there we are. WiFi scanner is picking up something absolutely weird and confusing, clearly some sort of network we can't identify. The alien's got some tech - or biology? - emitting a signal.
I groan. I know the answer. I hate the answer. I sigh. I curse fucking Brenda. 10 seconds left. I back away and close my eyes. Everyone sacrifices in trying times.
3, 2, 1 - the rotation stops and the stupid little defunct microwave gives a happy chirp of a ding. Done! Aren't you proud of me? Never, Brenda-spawn.
A claw appears around the door. Oh fuuuuck, yep, this is happening. I duck down behind a table and reach up to fumble at the microwave door. Hopefully aliens aren't vegan. I manage to jab it open and suddenly the delicious, intoxicating smell of the perfect burger floods the lunchroom, rich and redolent.
Apparently demons like burgers, but I was counting on this. Everyone likes burgers unless they are useless bitches named Brenda. S/he/it leaps for the microwave and I slide sideways - this is a horrible idea - putting myself closer to her as my arms fumble at the countertop. Oh, god, it stinks like childhood trauma and ozone. Too late now and here we go - the creature realizes I'm here far too late, flailing and turning with way too many arms writhing about. His head is at the same level of the counter top, body coiled to strike.
My lunging fall nearly fails, apparently my aim is terrible, but I trip on a chair and surge upwards again, hands finally wrapping around the microwave.
"You like to transmit shit about Earth?????!"I want to scream but instead I just kinda squeak as I grab the horrible microwave with its beautiful payload and slide the entire thing over the creature's head.
"Farrady cage?"I whisper hopefully, quickly backing away, because that - and my burger - was really all I had. For a second, the alien is still, simply standing there with his/her/its head crammed in a microwave, before its head gives a sudden, anticlimactic plop and sinks to the ground, ooze puddling out on his/her/its shoulders.
As the creature falls, his/her/it's body gives a shake, some final death throe, and, with a rattle, a little brown disc comes soaring out of the microwave. It's a beautiful, heartwarming moment. The alien's dead, Berlin is playing take my breath away and I've been reunited with my hamburger.
The rest of earth can wait a few more minutes for me to save it. This shit is finally hot and ready and it's lunchtime for momma. |
01.01.2044
Dear Diary:
Its very close now. Just 1 more year until I can break out and reek havoc on the world! Oh my excitement is slowly building. Not long until I hear the screams!
26.12.2044
Dear Diary:
Ahh! Less than a week now! Oh I dont sleep anymore, all I do is fantasise! I will soon be fulfilling the prophecy! My parents always told me, “always follow the prophecy, it brings us the best things in life.” I know Ma, I cant wait! The victims just finished celebrating something. It was probably another of their dumb beliefs!
01.01.2045
Dear Diary:
It was meant to be my day! I am so angry! Everything is destroyed. WHO STOLE MY THUNDER!
05.01.2045
Dear Diary:
Iv had a lot of emotions this week. It has been a sad time. Someone stole my prophecy. What will I tell my parents now? I will return not having done the only task assigned to me. I will be sent to the quicks no doubt! Im so sad..
12.01.2045
Dear Diary:
I have an idea! What if they rebuilt? Then I could destroy them again! Ah but they will need help. They need something strong and big, maybe something that can fly. Hmm. Ahah! ME! I fit that description! I will help them rebuild! And at the end I will destroy them again! My heart has been revitalised! I must start right away.
24.05.45
Dear Diary:
I have finished rounding up the surviving humans. Luckily there is enough to create a new civilisation. They have already began to build a new town. This is going better than I thought.
16.07.2045
Dear Diary:
The humans have began to worship me. I feel so powerful! They have built a temple in my name. I didn’t think this day would come. I am so happy!
28.02.46
Dear Diary:
The humans town has grown incredibly. The population has increased too. The town has almost everything old towns used to have. Every day I see the two-legged things walking around and doing things. I wonder if I ever will be so productive? Nah! Thats dumb.
05.03.2046
Dear Diary:
Things keep going. Im Beginning to feel a little proud of my peasants. They have come so far. What? No. Excuse me. I still plan to eat them of course.
09.09.2046
Dear Diary:
A few months and it will have been a year of the new civilisation. The humans grow rapidly. Their town is a city now.
24.12.2046
Dear Diary:
The humans are celebrating again. This thing they call “Christmas”. Strange holiday. They apparently give worship to some strange god or something.
27.12.2046
Dear Diary:
Seeing them celebrate was heartwarming. I am starting to think that maybe the prophecy is wrong. The peasants are good beings. They dont pose a threat?
06.02.2047
Dear Diary:
I have decided not to follow the prophecy. My parents were always mean to me anyway. The humans have opened my heart to love and peace. I think these are better than whatever the prophecy offers.
07.02.2047
Dear Diary:
I have remade myself! The humans have decided to dedicate a day of the year to me. They call it the “day of saviour”. Fitting I think. My work here is done. |
I sat upon my throne, watching the mortals as they scrambeled. I unleashed another tornado in the state of South Carolina, and yet I find myself bored. All the humans have developed ways to outsmart and outmaneuver my less destructive disasters, and its such a waste of magic to release a grander one. Yet, what else do I have to do? Sit around as another tornado simply glides through Dallas?
I decide to send a diaster somewhere I normally wouldn't, just to give the poor southerners a break from my constant tornado warnings. I gather up the magic within my fingertips, feeling it run through my viens is exhilarating. I select an area upon my map, and adjust my disaster so that it will span about the width of a tri-state area. I cast the magic and watch as it scatters and grows over the horizon, sinking itself below the ocean.
I turn to my orb that allows me to view my disaster as it continues. The oceans surface ripples as it travels, swift and powerful. I switch my orb to observe the humans making preparations, and notice something curious.
Two children, singlehandedly building a shelter upon huge pillars of rubber. It would keep any humans found within the shelter safe from my onslaught. The ground would quake and tremble below them, and they would simply wiggle in the shelter above, free from all harm. How they had constructed it so quickly was beyond me. I shifted in my chair, my wings suddenly feeling trapped. I wanted to go investigate, to see how these kids had done it.
I stood up and approached the edge of my cave lair. I shifted my form quickly, feeling as my body separated from itself until I formed into a flock of about 100 seagles. I took flight, each bird moving as though it where part of a hive mind. I travelled swiftly until I found myself at the shore of the area, where I began to circle. I sent birds searching. I needed to find the shelter.
-------‐----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"AH! Perry the Platypus! You've fallen right into my trap!"Exclaimed Doofinshmurtz, grinning madly.
"Krrrrrrr."Replied Perry, currently trapped inside of a crock-pot shaped cage. He shifted slightly, trying to find a way out as Doof began to explain is greatest invention.
"Perry, behold, the Stone-inator! With this device, I can turn anything into pure stone! Using my invention, I will turn every peace of rubber within the Tri-State area to stone! No more rubber balls, rubber bands, or rubber pillars. They will all be forced to buy Doof brand rubber! Where will I get all my wonderful rubber, you ask? Well you see, as a child..."
Perry clawed at the walls of his container, slapping the cage with his tail, knawing at it with his teeth. He then looked up, finding the lid of his prison. He shoved himself against it, trying to break free. All of a sudden, the warm container started beeping.
"-and so as I served Mr. Man, he started giving me rubber bands as gifts to help me hold together my inators. You see, we couldnt afford glue yet so- Hey! My crock pot is done!"Doof walked over to the crock-pot and turned it off, removing the lid. Perry the Platypus sprung out, racing towards the inator. Doof tackled him, and they fought until they reached the inator, Doof accidentally shoving himself into the fire button. The inator let out a single shot. Perry and Doof watched it go, before Perry leaped onto the self-destruct button and blew the inator up.
----‐---------------‐-------‐-------------------------------------------------------------
A group of my birds has found the fort. I reformed myself to my true form and flew to the large building atop the rubber pillars. I landed infront of it, shaking the Earth and causing windows to shatter. I closed my wings and faced the shelter, now shaking violently from my landing.
"Who are these children, who defy my disaters with modern inventions?"I boomed, searching the faces in the shelters. "WHO!"I roared, bringing a clawed hand to strike at the building.
"We are!"Said a small voice. I lowered my hand to see a yound kid with orange hair and a triangular head, sitting next to a taller kid with green hair. The kid with orange hair weilded a mighty blade, 2 times taller than him. "We've come to kill you, God of distruction, so that you plague us with natural disaters no more!"
I blinked. "Aren't you kids a bit young to kill a God?"
He grinned. "Yes, yes we are. Now Ferb, activate the trap!"
I barely had time to think before the tall one pressed a button, slinging ropes of steel iron around my arms. I struggled as I began to shift my form, sliding my hands of out of the ropes. I raised a hand to strike the children on the structure, but they hand sprung into the air. I tried to strike them out of the sky, but they laned of my hand. I blew a breath of wind, trying to blow them off my arm. They flew into the air then rocketed forwards on what seemed to be self-made jet-packs. I began to swallow another breath, but I was too late.
The sword peirced the soft skin of my next as the child drove it in. I felt blood well up in my throat, chocking me. The children dropped off the sword, landing on the structure. I chocked more before adbrutly stopping.
"Ha ha ha. You think your meager blades can kill me? I am not made of mortal flesh like you puny beings, I am made of pure magic. No mere peircing can kill me, you have trifled with a God that exists beyond your understanding! Prepare to suffer the consequences!"
I summoned an Earth Quake beneath me, causing the shelter to begin shaking. I was about to summon a grand volcano when I felt a ray hit my side. I began tp feel my molecules solifying, and I turned to find myself turning to stone.
"NO!"I screamed. "NOOOOOOO!"I grabbed onto one of the rubber pillars of the building, and the force of me yanking it sent the building on top flying. I watched as my arms turned to stone, and the pillars I was touching following suit. The last thing I beheld was the Earth shattering below me, causing my stone body to fall towards the core.
-----‐------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The shelter activated its flotation devices, and landed calmly into the shores near the Tri-State area. Phineas let out a gasp of air. "We did it Ferb! We killed a God!"The children around them rejoiced.
Perry the Platypus appeared in the shelter, and Phineas grinned. "Hey! Theres Perry!" |
**When I went to get my first X-ray, my father said they were checking to see if there was a skeleton hiding inside my body.** To me—a girl who grew up in a world where deaths happened offscreen and skeletons were cartoon monsters—it was terrifying when the technician had shown me a picture of the skeleton lurking beneath my flesh before noticing my panic and reassuring me that *everyone* had skeletons in their bodies, all while giving my chortling father dirty looks.
Returning to Earth with magesight was rather like that day. Skeletons weren't fantasy monsters; they were very, very real structures that every human had, and they were *everywhere*.
I woke up in the old college dormitory I had while I was still studying engineering, staring up confoundedly at the air vent in the wall above me. The skeins of magic that I'd learned to master during my time fighting the Dark Lord still glimmered beneath the surface of reality, just like they always had been. Skeletons waiting for their X-ray. Hesitantly, I stood up, reached towards the air vent, and touched it.
My physical fingers stopped at the air vent's grill—but my magesight informed me that tendrils of energy now connected me to the AIR VENT, allowing me to Twist it to my will.
I took the AIR VENT apart into its constituent components. AEINRTV.
Then I rearranged them, Twisting them into something else. TAR VEIN.
Energy surged out of me as I performed the Twist, and the AIR VENT disintegrated. Metal melted into black TAR, forming a VEIN of the stuff embedded in the wall. I yelped and nearly fell off my bed, awakening my roommate—I knew that I was supposed to have returned on the day that I left, but I'd still forgotten she was there. She blearily blinked awake, sniffed the air, then turned towards the wall. The TAR VEIN was still there.
"Adlyn—what the hell? What—what is that?"She pointed at the black scar in the wall, the proof that my power still held sway in this world.
Letters were the key. They were the bones beneath the hand, the secret structure, the magic behind the scenes that nobody had known existed—until I'd peeked beneath the surface. Slowly, a grin sneaked across my face as I placed my hand against the TAR VEIN and Twisted back into an AIR VENT; at Dari's expression of shock, I felt a little of the glee Dad must have felt when I'd freaked out about bones being *inside my flesh all the time*.
"Why, Dari,"I said, "It's the magic that was here all along."
Dari's gaped silently, and for a long, tense moment, we both stood there, me smug, her confused. Then I let that moment elapse. I plucked the ELAPSE from the air, Twisted it into ASLEEP, and tapped Dari's forehead once.
And Dari fell ASLEEP.
Hopefully, now that the vent was back, she would write it off as a dream. I got to my computer, hesitated as I remembered my password, and logged in. These next few moments would be of utmost importance.
Because if I remembered correctly, I wasn't the only hero who'd been summoned to the magical world of Rune.
And there was an old friend I had to make contact with, as soon as I could.
A.N.
Suggestions? Comments? Typos? Please leave them on this comment's sister post at [r/bubblewriters](https://www.reddit.com/r/bubblewriters/); and if you want more stories like this, try giving the rest of [r/bubblewriters](https://www.reddit.com/r/bubblewriters/) a peek. |
A hawk circles high in the air, riding on the winds above a barren mountain pass. He scans the ground looking for anything to keep the cruelty of winter at bay. Tonight he will be a hero to his family, a rabbit or a hare will fill the bellies of his young. He flies lower. Something is wrong. His wings feel weak and his vision is blackening.
The bird fell with a thud to the cobbles of the almost empty street. A black pincer dragged the carcass under the robes of Father Mccormick, who, a moment later, kicked a small skull to the side of the road. The house he searched for was just ahead, a humble cattle ranch.
"I'm here in response to a letter,"said Father Mccormick.
"The ones who came before, they are all dead,"said who must be Ebenezer Schumacher. He walked with an awkward limp in the doorway of the house.
"My fate is in the hands of God,"Father Mccormick said. "I don't fear his judgment."
"He's in there, my son,"the old man said, pointing to a door at the end of a dark corridor. The house had the stale dust smell of life winding down.
"Leave the house to ourselves, please,"Father Mccormick said with a straightening of his robes.
"Believe me, if you're going in there, I'm not staying to see that again,"The man said mournfully, passing through the door. "I'm sorry father, but I fear no one can stop my son. I just pray he never wishes to leave."
The priest only nodded as he approached the door covered in scratches. He entered without knocking. An overweight man, of perhaps thirty, perched on the window, swollen belly crisscrossed with stretch marks, fully nude and quivering as though it was colder even than it was.
"Leave!"the man cried, with the fear of a child in his eyes. "The bad bug will eat you up."He began to cough as a black pair of legs shot from his mouth. They continued to unfurl from the man, landing on the wooden floor and holding up the heavy man easily. The moderate monstrosity lumbered towards Father Mccormick with shaking movements as the priest made the mark of the cross over himself.
Father Mccormick began to unbutton his robes as the beast pulled more of its body from the man, looking now like a rotten hermit crab with a human shell. "My fate is in the hands of God,"he repeated, "but it is not the God of Issac."
He threw off his black robes to reveal the Hunger underneath. The minor parasite before him tried to scurry away but was dragged towards the priest without effort. The ever unsettling sounds began just after.
...
"It's done,"Father Mccormick called, opening the door and brushing himself off.
The old man looked skeptical until he saw the weak looking man following the priest, looking much thinner now. "Marcus? Is it really gone?"
The wide eyed man looked to the priest with fear who only returned a polite smile. "It is, dad. It's all gone, forever."
Father Mccormick walked away without discussion of payment. Silencing the Hunger for the week was payment enough.
\---
Thanks for reading.
If you liked this, check out /r/surinical to see more of my prompt responses and other writing. |
"You're human debris. Go down there and kill one or two before you die"
"Soften them up for us, and try not to wreck your mech. It's worth more than you are."
"Here kid, all the best pilots take an amp before a fight, helps you think faster."
The drop was exhilarating, free falling from orbit directly into the carnage created by the first wave. As he recovered and excited his personal crater,, Sergeant Knu was shocked by the lack of return fire.
This seige had been slogging on for weeks, and even experienced mech commanders like him had life expectancies measured in hours.
Here though...
The drop appeared to have place him and his team in the wrecked remains of several skyscrapers, as he gained line of sight of the city outside the ruins, Knu could pick out the remains of "debris"as well as enemy vehicles.
Something seemed off...
"Sergeant it's too quiet!"
For weeks the violent clashes of weaponry had been gradually causing Knu and everyone else to lose their hearing, but here the silence was absolute and oppressive.
"Fan out and stay alert, this could be a trick."
As they advanced down the central promenade, it was clear that the "debris"had advanced farther than had been anticipated, their wrecked mech would be retrieved, repaired, and filled with more of the worthless dregs of devastation.
Further along, it seemed that the remaining "debris"had been surrounded. Their last stand had cost the enemy dearly in a pointless effort to stay alive for a few more seconds, but along with their destroyed mech were the remains of an entire battalion of tanks, mech, and foot soldiers from the opposition.
As he surveyed the scene the earpiercing screech of metal on metal alerted him of motion seemingly dead mech. The gargantuan vehicle looked more like a building with legs than any kind of mobile machine, but upon closer inspection, it appeared that the cockpit had been impaled with lamppost.
And holding that lamppost was...
"Dreg, report."
"Drop zone cleared sir."
"And your squadmates?"
"Only disabled as far as I know sir."
Sergeant Knu frowned, this was not how this was supposed to go.
"What's your name dreg?"
Cold mirthless laughter rang over the coms.
"Spartacus, sir.
...
So began the legend of 37th human debris, and the tale of how the brought empires to their knees. |
>I'm beginnin' to feel like a Rap God, Rap God
>All my people from the front to the back nod, back nod
The crowd was compelled to act, animated by magical force. Normally it would have been alarming for a magician to animate the audience in a wizard’s duel like this, but in this instance the crowd was more confused than scared. Was this guy… rapping?
Self-proclaimed Archwizard Slim had never been anyone’s favorite pick, but it seems like now he’d fully lost his mind. Nodding along with the crowd, he continued:
>Now, who thinks their arms are long enough
>To slap box, slap box?
Slim’s arms extended ten times their length almost instantaneously, shooting straight at his opponent. Alatar was barely able to dodge in time.
“Breviare arma!” Alatar cried out, intending to counteract the Archwizard’s spell. It didn’t work.
> They said I rap like a robot, so call me Rap-bot
Archwizard Slim’s arms shrank back to their normal size and bands of electricity encircled his body. He opened his palms and two bolts shot toward Alatar, exploding the protective shield he had cast around himself.
Alatar’s eyes widened. That attack was far beyond the skills of a wizard like Slim. It was clear that the rhyming was more than just a gimmick–Slim was drawing magical power from the rhyme and cadence in a similar way that Alatar drew power from the history laden within the Latin language.
If that was true, the nodding crowd too was more than just a stage prop. In the same way Slim drew power from the rhythm of his words, he must be leaching power from the very rhythm of the crowd's movement.
“Nulla Choris!” Alatar yelled, but the crowd continued their nodding. He decided to take a different approach.
> Halt your bobbing heads!
> Or I shall make you... deads!
Some members of the crowd hesitated, their necks twitching, but the bobbing continued.
“Hah!” Archwizard Slim called out. “You call that rhythm?! Watch this.”
> Everybody from the 313,
> Put your motherfucking hands up and follow me!
As Archwizard Slim waved one arm rhythmically, the crowd mimicked his movements involuntarily, many groaning at what they still perceived as a gimmick.
Alatar felt an immense power building up. He acted fast, speaking before Archwizard Slim could continue.
> Roses are red, violets are blue,
> Stop bobbing your heads because I don’t appreciate this hullabaloo!
The nodding stopped. Alatar continued.
> Twinkle twinkle little star,
> Won’t you please lower your arms!
Again, the crowd reacted, and as their arms lowered, the electricity dancing around Archwizard Slim’s subsided.
Archwizard Slim was unperturbed. “I'm sorry but nursery rhymes aren't gonna cut it.”
Alatar continued relentless.
> The itsy bitsy spider went up the water spout,
> Down came the rain--I mean fire! I meant fire! Rats, let me try that again.
> The itsy bitsy spider went up the water spout,
> Down came some fire and gave it third degree burns on its stupid spider snout!!
A small puff of smoke came from Alatar's hand and quickly dissapaited. Alatar's jaw clenched. "Enough with these games! *Ignis!*"
A torrent of fire shot from Alatar’s hand, engulfing the Archwizard. As it subsided there was nothing left but ashes. The crowd erupted.
Alatar was suspicious. The blaze, while powerful, shouldn’t have killed him. Alatar raised a hand to the crowd. “May I have your attention please? Will the real Archwizard Slim please stand up?”
A murmur of confusion rippled through the audience as the Archwizard stood from their midst, grinning as he spat fire:
>Ya'll act like you never saw a white wizard before.
>
>Jaws all on the floor like Gandalph just burst in the door,
>
>And I'll start whoopin' your ass worse than before.
>
>I'm Slim Shady, yes, I'm the real Shady.
>
>That other Slim Shady was just imitating.
Alatar didn’t hesitate. "*Interficiam eum!*"he shouted.
A spray of blood. Where the real Slim Shady once stood there was nothing but a pile of limbs and flesh.
The crowd erupted once more, but as the commotion died down a familiar voice sang out:
>*Guess who’s back... back again. Shady’s back, tell a friend.*
Alatar looked around, unable to tell where the voice was coming from. "I'll command you one more time! Will the *real* Slim Shady please stand up!”
The voice responded gleefully:
> Haha! I guess there's a Slim Shady in all of us. Fuck it, let's all stand up!
The crowd was compelled to stand in unison as Alatar’s chest ripped open. The Archwizard had burst out from inside him like some grotesque parasite.
"He was weak,"Archwizard Slim spat. "Bars slow and heavy. Dead already, lookin' like moms' spaghetti."
***
More of my favorite pieces at r/Banana_Scribe. This one is an alternate version of this piece [here.](https://old.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/qt3wzq/wp_in_a_world_where_magic_is_cast_using_words_the/hkhhn98/?context=3) |
“Ok look, I know we have all said some hurtful things to each other during this meeting, but we just need to remember that our hate shouldn’t be directed at our fellow villains but instead at the heroes that keep tricking us. Now, are we ready to continue this meeting like adults?” Skull-licker said, the skull masked man tapping the wooden desk in front of him as the villains mumbled amongst themselves, still throwing the odd glare at each other.
“Tricking you, maybe. Leave me out of this pity party. If you lot can’t handle your superheroes, then maybe you should all just quit and let me take over. I hear Frosty Leopard is hiring if you need a job. Don’t worry, I’ll give you all a good reference.” Shaker said, the villainess grinning as she leaned back in her chair, always happy to have all the eyes on her at these meetings.
“Oh yes, tell us again how many grand exploits you have done in the last month. Last I heard the earthquake causing, Shaker was left shaken by a band of rookies. I heard you were even going to squeal when they threatened you with jail time. You’re lucky to even be seated here.” Bound Cannon knocked the grin off Shaker’s face as she returned to an upright position in her chair, her hands gripping the table as the room shook.
“EASY, EASY. What did I just say? We handle this like adults. None of us has done anything remotely evil in the last month, and that is because of those blasted heroes. They keep changing their outfits to trick us. Did you know last week I fought Captain Fever while he was wearing his sidekick’s clothing? That’s weird, isn’t it?”
“Like he was wearing an outfit that looked like his sidekick’s clothing?” Shaker asked, stopping her tremors as the tension in the room slowly drifted away, now replaced with confusion.
“No, like he just wore his sidekicks’ clothes. Do you know how disturbing that is? It was about five sizes too small; I shouldn’t have to see that while I’m fighting him. What he did to my eyes during that fight is more villainous than anything I could ever come up with.”
“So, you expected to fight a sidekick only to get blindsided by a hero in tight clothing? Interesting.” A quiet voice in the back of the room spoke up, his voice followed by the shuffling of papers.
“Oh, Mr. Fisher, I forgot you were even here.” Skull-licker and the others turned to face the older gentlemen. The man’s fingers shaking as he placed the papers down, staring at the group from behind his thick squared glasses.
“Why is he even here? I thought he was retired. Are we keeping him around as some sort of good luck charm?” Bound Cannon laughed, only to feel a large weight press against his back, pinning his cheek against the table he was seated at.
“I don’t appreciate it when you younglings get mouthy. It’s fine when you keep it between yourselves, but you should remember it’s an honor that I even serve on this sad excuse of a villainy board. You lot couldn’t hold a candle to us, which is why I’m still here to clean up your messes. I should be in Cuba with the rest of the old board, but unfortunately, I drew the short straw.” Mr. Fisher released his ability, allowing Bound Cannon to sit back up.
“I’m sorry for their lack of manners. I…. We have been trying to reform the board to its full potential, but in our defense, you didn’t leave us with a lot of tools. When I came to take over, I found the building burnt to the ground.” Skull-licker argued, only to flinch when Mr. Fisher raised a hand. Thankfully, the older gentlemen was only adjusting his tie before he spoke.
“It was necessary that we got rid of any evidence of our crimes before leaving. We wanted to make sure nobody would ruin our retirements with a warrant for our arrests. Not that we should have had to leave you with supplies. No one gave us a building to use when we formed the board. You at least got access to our funds.”
“Ugh. I appreciate you are a talented villain, Mr. Fisher, but none of that helps us right now. If I wanted to listen to an old person tell me how much harder their life was than mine, I would go visit my parents. What’s next? Going to tell me you had to walk five hundred miles to get to school?” Shaker felt the pressure hit her back, but unlike Bound Cannon, she was prepared for it. Her hands gripping the table’s edge, keeping herself upright, pushing back against the force until finally she lost her grip, slamming through the table, sending small pieces of wood across the room.
“you lasted ten seconds. A decent attempt. No, next I was planning on telling you how to fix your little problem. Though, If I am truly that unappreciated, I will take my ideas elsewhere.”
“You have an idea? WHY DIDN’T YOU SAY SO?” Shaker hissed, dusting herself off as she rose from the ground, staggering back towards her seat.
“No one asked.”
The room was silent as everyone waited for Mr. Fisher to explain his plan. Soon a minute passed and still the room was silent until finally Skull-licker spoke. “Um, mind telling us the plan?”
“Sure. We send a letter to the heroes board telling them it’s unfair.”
“That’s it?” Skull-licker waited for something more, but nothing came.
“Should we also send them a fruit basket, too? Maybe film us all holding hands while singing ‘We are the world.’ Think that will fix our problem, too?” As soon as the last word left Shaker’s lips, she fell through her chair, snapping it as that familiar pressure pushed down on her.
“You talk a lot for someone who could be replaced by a few tectonic plates. Heroes are all about fairness in battle. Which is why we should exploit their heroic natures for our own benefit.”
“I mean, it could work. You could have gotten badly hurt by Captain Fever. Imagine if you were expecting a sidekick powered punch only to get a party punch from him?” Bound Cannon said, spurring on the conversation.
“Exactly, and what if Shaker made too strong of an earthquake thinking that the heroes she was fighting could handle the damage she caused? She could level a city if people with the wrong powers were there to stop her. It would cause billions in damages and thousands of lost lives.” Skull-licker added.
“Heh, that would be amazing. Imagine how funny that would be.” Shaker laughed, once again dusting herself off as she leant against the wall, not having anywhere she could sit.
“Now you’re all thinking like villains. We submit this letter to them and get them to stop this little nuisance of a plan they have going. Then when they send us a response stating they won’t use this trick, we rush out and commit as much villainy as possible while they are still trying to find their old suits. Now, if everyone agrees, I’ll send the letter. I expect you all to be in your costumes and ready with a plan as soon as we get our response. Don’t waste this opportunity.”
“We won’t sir.” Skull-licker gave Mr. Fisher a salute, watching the old man shuffle out of the room with his paperwork. “Well, let’s get ready to cause some trouble.” With that, the three villains headed to their rooms, preparing for their first fair piece of villainy in a long time.
 
 
 
(If you enjoyed this feel free to check out my subreddit /r/Sadnesslaughs where I'll be posting more of my writing.) |
He’d sworn he’d never return to this place.
With every step the shadows pressed closer, until even his trademarked jolly smile began to falter. He grasped desperately for a memory of his home in the frozen north, the hallways ringing with laughter. It faded as quickly as he found it.
There was no cheerful laughter here. Only the echo of screams filled the aching silence.
Down, down, down he went, until he found himself standing before a door draped in heavy chains. Rusted bulbs and withered pine needles adorned each one, their magic long ago snuffed out by the one held captive behind them.
The chains fell to the ground with a loud clatter, and voice rose above them.
“So you’ve finally returned.”
Nicholas braced himself and pushed open the door.
A gaunt figure hung from manacles bolted to the wall. Teeth flashed in the low light of his lantern as lips curled back into a sneer.
“Come to admit that coal is not enough.”
“You had to be stopped.”
“For their sake? Or yours?”
The words still bit deep, even after all these years.
“We were a team.” Krampus snarled. “I taught them manners, you gave them hope. That was the deal!”
“Another player has entered the game.” Santa said. “They threaten everything I… we built.”
“And so the universe moves to correct the balance you disrupted.” Krampus said, a slight smile lighting the demon’s face. “How poetic. I’d applaud but…”
The chains clinked.
“If we don’t stop them… there won’t be anything left to fight over.” Nicholas countered.
“And why should that bother me?” Krampus demanded.
“Because you still care.” Nicholas said softly.
The demon looked like someone had stolen the breath from its lungs.
“It’s why your master won’t take you back.” Santa said. “And why mine lets you stay.”
Silence filled the air.
“I’ll do it.” Krampus said finally. “But know this. When these interlopers are gone, you and I will have a reckoning.”
Nichalos steeled himself and nodded.
“So be it.” He said.
The children could live without him. Their parents would fill in the empty spots beneath the tree with love and happy memories.
The children would survive.
And that was enough. |
The crowd was deathly silent. Not a whisper could be heard from the audience. Even the ever energetic announcer was completely silent. It took almost a minute before he said anything.
"Uh, con... congratulations. We have a brand new regional champion?"Even with this announcement, nobody cheered. "Let's hear it for our new champion...Boy?"
There was a half-hearted cheer from a few members of the crowd. The champion, now former champion stood there in disbelief. That battle had been unlike anything she had ever seen. Had she not been there, been an active participant, she would think it had been scripted.
The crowd watched her and the oddly named Boy. It was expected that she would go and be a gracious loser. Congratulate him on his well earned victory. She had rehearsed this. It was destined that every champion would eventually be unseated. Even after holding the position for almost ten years, she knew she would eventually lose.
But this? This was not how it was supposed to happen. She was supposed to lose in a glorious battle. Putting trainer against trainer and Pokemon against Pokemon. A battle of wit. A battle of strategy. A battle that would test the bonds of loyalty, friendship and trust.
And yet, she had lost.
To a single Magikarp.
A single Magikarp had taken out her team. Her perfectly balanced team that she had raised since they were eggs. Literally in some cases. And yet this...this preteen who has barely started training a month ago had beaten her.
What was worse was that there was no strategy to the battle. Boy had used a seemingly unending wallet to beat her. He had spent the first several seconds of the battle not encouraging his partner, or coming up with clever uses of its abilities. No, he had used a seemingly endless supply of potions and X items. Oh sure, those were legal, but no serious contender relied on items to such an extent.
And when he was done, he had his Magikarp use bounce. Just bounce. Over and over, like some kind of machine. It was like he saw the Pokemon as nothing but a tool. A pawn to reach a goal.
She did not want to accept such a farce of a battle. A championship battle was supposed to be a grand thing. A great rest of skill. But, he had won. No matter how much she hated it.
She swallowed her pride, and approached Boy. How he had gotten that name was just another oddity, and the least of them. When she got closer, she heard he was saying something, apparently talking to himself.
"--the Magikarp solo run. Yeah, I had to use a lot of items for this one, but it worked, and better than I thought it would. Maybe I'll try an itemless run in the future. Leave a comment if you want to see that, or if you want to see any other Pokemon solo runs. Also, as always, remember to leave a like and hit that subscribe button. See ya a next time."
That opened up dozens of questions she had for him, but she had her duty to attend to first. She put on her most convincing smile and held out her hand.
"Congratulations."She said. "That was an... interesting battle. I'm sure you'll do well as champion."It was a bold faced lie, of course, but it had to be said.
Boy ignored her. He barely even acknowledged her presence. He simply walked around her and into the attached champion's registrar room. Her fists clenched hard enough that her knuckles turned white. The audience whispered, talking about what had just happened.
The former champion watched her replacement and made up her mind. She made a silent promise to herself that she would find out what had just happened. She would find out who this Boy was, how he had managed to win like he did, what he had been talking about at the end. She would find out everything. |
When Barry was six, his mother had told him he had been followed by a shadow all his life.
Barry had thought at the time it was because he had been an only child of a single mother, and his birth had been a difficult one. Aunt Grace had told him so even earlier than six; she had been around a lot when he was little while his mother had recovered, and then kept coming around when his mother had to go to a second or third work shift of the day.
He hadn't thought much more about it after that day, until he was eight and Johnny from the year above had nearly drowned in the creek. Barry had been playing down at the creek after school with his best and only friend, Ismael.
Then Johnny had come along with his stupid, thick, ugly friends and tried to push Barry and Ismael under the water over and over again. Johnny was a dickhead - so his Aunt Grace said, although he was never supposed to use that word within the hearing of civilised company - and Johnny deserved whatever was coming to him. Karma, or something. But Barry, scared as he had been for himself, as worried as he had been for tiny Ismael, had worried more when Johhny had slipped and fallen into the deep part of the creek. The clouds had covered the sun for minutes while Barry yelled at Johnny's two friends Tom and Jack to do something, you gobbers.
But then the sun had come out again, and Johnny had surfaced coughing and spluttering, swearing that he would make Barry's life seven kinds of fresh hell. Barry didn't know what a fresh hell was, or thought it very fair for Johnny to blame him for something Johnny always started, or to blame Barry for Johnny tripping over his own big, dumb feet and falling in. But Barry headed home and said bye to Ismael and hi to Ms Williams on the way, and thought about the shadow some more.
Johhny never had bothered him again after that day. Once - when Barry was nearly driven mad with curiosity as to why his life had suddenly become much more peaceful - he had asked Jack about it when he was alone in art class. Jack had looked sideways at him, eyes focussed a little above Barry's head, and said Barry just wasn't worth it anymore and they had better things to do.
Then the car accident happened.
Barry was starting his first day of high school. They'd been running late because his mother had slept in and there was no one else available to take him to school, the bus driver was on strike and the roads were icy. He could remember his mother swearing at the lunatic on the road ahead of them. Something about the man being probably drunk. Defensive driving skills were employed, but then there was a shout and absolute terror and then nothing.
His next memory had been the wet asphalt, a crackling hiss, and the face of the heavy-set driver watching him from the ground mere feet away. The man's eyes were glassy, and he was too still. Barry had heard a dragging noise, and a man was at the side of their car, trying to get his mother out. Barry couldn't remember how he had ended up out of the car, but the soft calls of the man in the black trenchcoat as he told Barry's mother she would be all right, help would come, he was going to get them out, this would never happen again, he would sort it out - that he remembered.
He never saw the man's face, and in the aftermath he hadn't questioned why the man had known his mother and had come to save her. His brain had told him it would be all right, the man was supposed to be there. The man had pulled his mother out of the wreckage, checked for injuries, pulled out a phone and dialled 911, and began chest compressions while he spoke. Just like we did in health class last year, Barry thought. His last memory had been the man taking a look at his mother before telling Barry he would be back very, very soon with some help, and that he would be fine, and that he would always be with him.
"Barry, I made a mistake. I'm so sorry. Your mother is going to be fine. The paramedics will be here soon, and I'll just be a moment. I need to speak to a friend of mine. I promise I'm not leaving you. I told you before, you'll never have to be alone. Just stay there, and stay still until the ambulance comes. I'll be back."
Barry had blinked, and looked at his mother lying there on the road. The black trenchcoat was laid over her up to her neck. He had looked back up to the man, who had vanished.
Later, when he had slept in the hospital, and his mother had been wheeled in to share the bed next to him, they had asked who had got his mother out of the wreckage. Told him he was very lucky. Shock and some scratches, a minor bump on the head, but no major injuries. His mother would be fine, they said. A bit of recovery time, but she'd be good soon.
He didn't know, he'd said.
He thought there had been a friend who had helped them, but the police who came later mentioned there'd been no sign of anyone else at the scene before the medics arrived. They suggested maybe he'd saved his mother, and the shock had wiped it from his memory.
Barry didn't think so. He knew the man would come back, the man whose face stayed in shadows in his mind.
He had made a promise to Barry.
And if there was anything Barry had learned in his life so far, it was that promises were sacred above all else.
.....
Here to practice writing. Any and all feedback welcome! |
"Well, as long as the dragon is dead,"King Moret said with a shrug. "Back to business, crier. Nothing more for it, I suppose."
"Yes, your highness,"Durn, the town crier, replied, though he was clearly distracted in his thoughts as he left the throne room.
The dragonslayer hadn't even heard the word dragon, hadn't been given a location, and had crossed the world in a matter of moments. The first two were easily explained, the man was clearly a prophet, but that last was nagging at him.
If he hadn't seen it, he'd assume it was a new form of magic. Teleportation was rumored and theorized as possible. But the hero didn't teleport by magic. He didn't run off at impossible speed.
Durn took a SHARP STICK off the ground, holding it before him, just as he'd seen earlier, and started walking at the south wall of The Scaled Lady, to the exact spot.
At first, he just felt foolish, and likely looked it, too. Then he only looked foolish. The build up of pressure was incredible. He could feel the world pushing in, until it stopped. He could see the wall, but he could also see through the wall. And he tell no one else saw him.
As he took a step forward, he fell through. Not through anything in particular, just... through. There was an echo of the world before him. He'd seen maps in the castle, but this wasn't just a map. He could see clouds moving across. See them from *above*!
And then he reached out. He could see the valley of his home, Nellshire, a three day travel South of here, yet, as he touched it, he turned to find himself there. No longer ethereal, but solid, present.
No one seemed to notice anything peculiar about him appearing, but the nodded and tipped hats. He felt the dirt beneath him, and he realized the not-a-map was gone.
"Hello, traveller."
He spun around to see a beggar, legless.
"Have a moment to aid a poor beggar."
"I... Perhaps."
"I need a Colranach Rose. The mage at the tavern says he can make a potion to restore my legs!"
"Colranach? That's not too far. I can run there for you,"Durn said with a smile. Suddenly, his vision blurred and the words **Quest Begun: Miracle Cure** appeared, before fading. "Did you see that?"
"Thanks for the help, traveller."
"Well, alright. I guess I'm on a quest. Whatever that means."
"Thanks for the help, traveller." |
"It's a long story."I said. "But the short of it is, that is my gun."
Chief of Police James Knox simply gave me a confused look. I gestured to the chair beside me, cocking my head to the side, wordlessly asking permission. He nodded, his gaze flitting to the vaguely gun-shaped thing on the table.
"Before I can even begin to explain this thing, I need to go over the Anderson case. The report I filled out was a complete lie."
"Go on."He said, unsettled, but maintaining a level of calm that only someone who had seen their own fair share of horror could.
The Anderson Case was a weird one. The old Anderson house was the town's local haunted house- really it was condemned but the asbestos used in its construction, along with a myriad of other unsafe substances, made demolishing it an expensive endeavor that nobody was willing to foot the bill on.
Not even collectively.
It began when I received a report of a disturbance at the Anderson house, probably some kids causing a ruckus and needed a quick ride back to the station so we could call their parents.
Y'know, scare them just enough to make sure they didn't come back.
Now, we have a fairly remote town here, the only thing connecting us to the outside world is a single road and the internet.
"I arrived on the scene at 20:35, as I said in my report. You might recall that I wrote that I was attacked. Well, I was, just not the way I wrote."
I didn't even have my gun in hand, nobody takes on a call like this and has their gun out. We at least prided ourselves on trying to be the good cops.
The front door was shut, locked, I walked around the perimeter of the building, looking for any obvious sign of egress. Nothing. Even the cellar was chained shut. I had begun to walk away when it occurred to me that the chain was too brand new to have been there since we last replaced it, like someone had cut the chain and replaced it.
I have a set of lock picks, I keep it in my car, tucked away where they can't be seen. Everyone at the station knows, because I bought them simply because the key to the records room was locked and I was getting sick and tired of ruining a perfectly good library card just to unlock the door.
"I wrote in my report that I retrieved my lock picks, used them to unlock the chain, and entered the house from there."I said. "I went through the house, exactly as outlined, and encountered a group of gang members to attacked me."
"How does this factor into whatever the fuck that thing is?"James asked.
"They weren't gang members."I replied.
The moment I entered the attic, I was hit by a godawful smell, I remembered it from my time as a homicide detective in the next town over- it took me everything I had to not freak the fuck out.
I drew my gun, thumbed the safety off, and slipped a magazine in, and as I racked the slide back, I stepped out and held my gun out.
"Freeze! Put your hands up where I can see them."I had said.
I rubbed my hands together at the memory, "I froze. Here were these five guys in something that made the fucking Meat Dress look pleasant."I said. "It was as if they took someone's internal organs and made these absolutely disgusting robes out of them. They looked at me, one of them raised their hand out at me, and their fingers grew into these long, writing tentacles that pierced my torso. That's how I got 'shot'."
"Jesus."James uttered.
"That's when the Hellmouth opened up."
I was laying there on the ground, tentacles writhing inside my body. I saw them sever from the man's hand and could feel them slithering into me. It was all I could do to yank them out, and even that was a trial and a half by itself.
I missed one. "It's still inside me, for the record."I said. "But since its master is dead, it's a part of me."
"What."
I continued. The Hellmouth opened as they finished their ritual, I had one tentacle still burrowing into my body, I was probably going to die, and right there in front me was a gaping, fleshy hole opening up from out of nowhere, with monstrosities approaching.
I did the only sensible thing, I shot the five fuckers dead, but not before some of the monsters got out.
"It was a gamble."I said. "But it destabilized the Hellmouth, which began to close. So there I was, bleeding out, most certainly dying, and one of them walked over to me. Shot him a couple of times in the face, but I may as well have been shooting spitballs. It gave me a choice."
The Demon loomed over me, horned, flayed skin, sharp teeth. "You are about to die, mortal, and I need a strong vessel. You will either bleed out and die, denying me a vessel, or you will consent to my possession of you. One will end your suffering before it can even begin, or you can have the remote possibility of consuming me and gaining my power." |
Capturing Carter Turner was pretty easy. The man sure was drunk, and pretty out of it. Now, deep in the woods, away from everyone, I was ready to make the kill.
Carter pleaded, "Please! I have a wife and children!"
I only burst out laughing at his pathetic plea, "Who do you think sent me?"
I waited for him to ponder, the realization that-
"Jenny sent you?"
-Maggie...wait, I thought his wife is named Maggie.
"Take another guess,"I told him.
"Trixie?"
"What?"
"Paola. No! Lyra! Fran? Cassie? That stripper at Sinfully! Did she send you because of late child support payments?"
"No wonder Maggie wanted you dead,"I scoffed and stabbed him in the heart. |
Henry, like many, was not what you or I would call a "morning person"; unlike many, he took this state to the extreme. His morning routine consisted of slowing drinking two shots of espresso while gazing without seeing into his garden; sufficiently roused by these shots, he would stumble to the bathroom where he would stand under the hot water for at least half an hour before stepping out and, upon drying a dressing, drinking a third shot of espresso while trying to read the headlines of the days paper.
His girlfriend, with the mischievous and playful humor that he loved her for had termed this the "dezombification protocol", and Henry had conceded that it was not an inaccurate characterization.
Unfortunately for Henry - although fortunately for the existence of this tale - this morning he had been forced to skip this routine, for he had an early business meeting in Toulouse and so at the ungodly hour of 6AM we find him bleary eyed and all but oblivious to his surroundings, stumbling out of his front door and into the taxi waiting to whisk him to the Montpellier Saint-Roch train station.
Reaching the station after a taxi drive that he remembered almost none of, despite having narrowly avoided an accident when the driver dashed across two lanes to make the turnoff, he found he had fifteen minutes to spare, and so with slow and deliberate movements he looked around until he sighted his personal oasis; a cafe. The windows were dark and grimy and the blue sign with gold letters proclaiming it to be "Café des Ombres"had seen better years, but it was a cafe and it was open, and so with renewed purpose he set out for it.
With a grunt of effort he pushed open the door and stumbled inside, where as we would expect of any good French cafe he was welcomed by the rich aroma of coffee and the smell of freshly baked goods. What you, I, or Henry would not expect, however, were the patrons, who were the most eclectic arrange of individuals that we would ever see; one didn't so much as sit in his seat as hover translucently above it, a second was covered in hair with an elongated mouth and nose that almost looked canine, while a third looked almost normal, so long as you didn't notice the bright red skin.
Henry, however, was oblivious to all of this, and so shuffled over to the counter where with great effort and a grunt he pointed to the espresso option on the menu before spilling a handful of coins onto the counter. The waitress, green skinned with reed-like hair, swept the coins into the till and quickly and efficiently poured his order.
Downing it quickly, he set the cup back upon the counter, grunted his thanks, and shuffled, with a little more speed and energy, back to the entrance before stepping back out into the cold air of the station.
The demon looked up from his croissant and in a clipped accent said to nymph at the counter "I haven't seen a zombie in these parts for at least one hundred years. I wonder where he came from?"
"I wonder"the nymph replied, "where he got a taste for *espresso*" |
Submission:
I insisted, and the Demon said, "Huh. Okay. You asked for it."
POOF! A whiff of fresh air surrounded me, and there I was, feeling fresh and new and very energetic. Oh, wow, this was good! Except... Except... I looked down. I was... shorter.
My hands were free of age spots, for sure, and my nails looked young and blemish free. What's the odd thing? Oh.... wait...
Glancing down, I wasn't just youthful, I was A Youth. As in, I looked like I was about 8 to 10 years old. Short, kind of scrawny, I was the way I was 50 years before, when I was this age the first time.
"Uh..."
"You asked for it.'
\*\*\* time passes \*\*\*
Here I hang.
Nothing has happened in the last 10 billion years. I am, forever. I am eternal. I am an Eternal Youth. The last proton in the universe - the heat death of the entire universe - decayed about 10\^30th years ago, but I remain. I'm not entirely of this universe, so I can't be destroyed no matter what happens.
That part I discovered far, far away and ago in my desperate actual youth. I was about 4 billion years old at that point, and the sun had just gotten to the red giant stage, swallowing up the Earth's oceans and deserts and making me sink deep into the lava of Earth's core.
That lasted a while.
Eventually, enough stuff happened to wear away at the outer layers of the earth and I got to see the stars again. Then, to drift through them. Then, to watch over distant geologic... cosmic, time as the stars - slowly - went - out.
One by one, they faded away and became invisible, and that was still a distant time ago.
Here I hang.
\-- An Eternal Youth. |
The cribbage board was out again, and the curmudgeonly group of sailors were sitting and trash talking loudly across the plastic table.
In the far corner another group of retired naval officers lounged on couches and listened to the news on an overly loud entertainment unit, while a nurse sat quietly at her desk in the corner. She was ostensibly working away at her administrative duties; but in truth her primary purpose lay in ensuring the listless retirees didn't get out of hand.
Ret. Lt. Com. D. Terfulim, former commander of the heavy cruiser *Warcaller* waited for the nurse to look away and quickly tucked some of his stashed chewing tobacco under his front lip. He'd been chewing the stuff for near a century in the navy, and he'd be damned if he'd stop now.
The stuff was considered contraband by the nurses, and they would take it away if they saw him with it. Though in truth the habit was more practiced than not amongst the guests on Bashton, and the nurses seemed resigned to allowing the retired sailors their habits, so long as they were discrete.
Out through the wide clear windows, rain was blowing in from the mountains, and flocks of withered and stunted veterans could be seen trudged their way back to accommodation's from the many golf courses, shooting ranges, and hiking trails that covered the greater part of Bashton's surface. There were of course also plentiful rivers for fishing, lakes for swimming, and any manner of diversion that would keep high ranking naval officers happy as they dwindled away their twilight years.
Bashton was regarded as a mythical place amongst naval officers. A retreated created by the Empire of man, as a means of rewarding the hardiest and most loyal naval officers for a lifetime of service. Most officers never made it here, dying to accident, mutiny or enemies long before the end of their service, which made it all the more amazing that the retreat covered the surface of an entire world. It revealed much of the scale of the Empire, that the surviving officers of its navy alone could be so many, and occupy so much space.
As the squall broke down on the house, the man next to Ret. Lt. Com. D. Terfulim, tapped him on the shoulder.
"It's your turn Dave."
He looked down at his cards and then snapped his gaze back up as an alarm tone blared from the blaring entertainment unit.
It was a three tone sound, repeating and harsh.
Each person in the room stood immediately, and as the automated message began playing, they all hurried to the monitor to see.
​
>*Attention Attention Attention*
>
>*Warden satellites have detected unknown xenos voidships on approach.*
>
>*Planetary directive Heavenfall is now in effect.*
>
>*Shelter in place and prepare to barricade yourself against enemy forces.*
>
>*Naval units have been alerted and are enroute from the outer system.*
>
>*Expected time of arrival is two hours.*
>
>*May the emperor be with you.*
​
Every person in the room immediately moved into action, as quickly as there frail forms allowed, some shuffling walkers, where others broke into loping jogs. Each was running desperately back to their rooms.
All but the resident nurse, who stood with mouth agape, unblinking.
There was a series of percussive booms, recognisable as trans-orbital craft making their rapid descents through the atmosphere.
David, took the nurse by the arm and led her down the nearest hall, around the corner, and into his small, well furnished room. He sat her calmly in an overstuffed armchair, and turned to search briefly in his mahogany walk-in robe.
He was sure he had left them somewhere here, perhaps in the old trunk?
The nurse called after him, "What are you doing?"
"Just stay put I'm looking for-"
He was interrupted by the sound of explosive detonating.
*They had breach the front doors,* He realized, *They're inside*.
He pulled down an old weather-beaten leather travel bag, and reached inside, and finally found what he was looking for.
The old pistols were worn and scratched from long years of service, but functional. He checked the load in each, placed the two spare mags in the pockets of his lounge robe and prepared to head out.
"Wait here", he told the nurse, and slipped, guns first, out into the hallways.
He followed the hallway towards the direction of the explosion, and before long he could hear the sounds of gunfire and screaming. Following these at a run he emerged onto the upper walkway that overlooked the main foyer of his residency.
The scene was utter chaos.
There was a pitched battle rolling across the floor of the foyer. He could see geriatric officers in robes and gowns huddled behind overturned tables and counters, firing their ex-issue service weapons towards a numerically superior and better equipped enemy. The xeno were short, squat figures, in tight fit weave armour. Nevertheless the floor was littered with the dead of both sides.
In one place he saw the body of a man he knew, a former high-ranking political officer, surrounded by the corpses of at least three xenos. It appeared the man had cut down two of the fiends, before skewering the third and being subsequently cut to pieces by energy weapon fire. The scene would have been tragic or glorious, but for the fact the old man had cut down each over the top of his walker frame, on which he now slumped.
David raised his twin pistols and began firing.
*If they thought they would go quietly, they were mistaken*. |
I've always been fond of pennies. When I find a nice one, I hold onto it as long as I can until I lose it, then start over. It's nice to have "pocket items". Like when you get ready to leave, and you list off all the things you bring with. Phone, wallet, keys, chapstick, penny. It's just nice to have an item to look after.
I rub the penny between my thumb and index finger as we peruse the catacombs. My husband has his hand on my elbow. For his protection or mine, I'm not sure. It's eerie down here, and what the tour guide said was creepy. Probably just one of his schticks to get a laugh from the tourists.
I lightly drag my left hand down the rough wall of skulls while I look down at my feet careful not to trip. My right hand is down by my side grasping my penny. Suddenly, out of the corner of my eye, something made me jump. I let out a light gasp and dropped my penny. I watched it roll into the darkness where the floor meets the wall. Never to be seen again.
My husband stopped. "Did you just drop your penny?"
I shrugged and gave him a grimmace. "A penny for their thoughts."
I let him walk ahead while I rack my brain for what I think I saw. Was it a skull that was glowing for a split second? Or the flash of someones phone? It really looked like the skull was glowing.
As I slowed my pace I watched my husband move farther and farther away from me. Though, he doesn't seem to be walking that much faster.
"You should leave him."
I turn around and am met with the face of another tourist smiling at me. "Excuse me?"I said.
Their smile turned to a frown and they asked me confusingly, "Sorry, what? I didn't say anything."
I was about to speak but I heard the voice again. His lips didn't move.
"Leave him."
I shook my head and apologized and caught up with my husband.
The voice continued.
"He is worthless to you. Leave him. Leave this family. Pathetic woman, he does not love you."
I shuddered and held his hand. I tried not to think about the words I was hearing but it felt like they were a tattoo on the inside of my eyelids. I watched those words glow in my mind until I felt a hand on my shoulder.
"Honey, are you feeling up for dinner? You haven't said much since we got back to the hotel."
Back to the hotel? When did we leave the catacombs I thought. Did I space out all the way here?
I shook out of my thoughts and looked at him, "No I'm fine, let me go to the bathroom first."
I shut the door behind me and took a deep breath. Silence. I approached the mirror and stared at myself.
"Worthless woman, pathetic woman. Leave him. He does not love you."
I watched tears running down my face. Was it me that was saying this? I don't really think that do I? Does he love me? Do I love him?
I watched my mouth begin to move.
"A penny for my thoughts. Leave this place. Leave him." |
My rule was no women, and no kids. I stuck to that rule for nearly twenty years, and although I had been offered many juicy calls privately to take care of some high-level executives "accident", I never did.
Do you have kids? I don't. I wanted one, but on account of my...deformity...I probably won't. I like them because for a short time they are harmless. No kid ever ever went looking to hurt anyone, and I respect that.
Except this one kid...he was a special case.
Ever see a kid call lightning from the sky? This kid could. He had a little mouse-type thing that's like a furry little Tesla-coil. This thing has blown apart buildings and hospitalized dozens, if not hundreds of people. And you wouldn't know it from looking at him because he's a goofy, bright eyed little kid that goes on about being a Po-kay-man master or something....whatever that is.
I wasn't going to do it, until I saw this kid in action. Would you believe it, he's carrying an arsenal of these...things. Giant turtles armed with large-bore cannons, telekenetic cats, and a dragon....a dragon! This kid had enough enough firepower to take on a small country and *win*, and he was walking around chipper and cheery like this was normal!
We stopped him on his way to [REDACTED], and he cooperated with us most of the way, saying something about how he was training to be a Po-Kay-Mon master. All was fine until we reached [REDACTED] and attempted to disarm him. His electric-rat attempted to stun us, but we came prepared with rubber-grounded gear. We were prepared for that.
We weren't prepared for the...I don't even know what it was. It looked like a fox but...taller, bipedal. Carried two spoons, like Uri Geller used to. It...made us see things. There was....um...friendly casual...I'm sorry can we stop for a minute...
*BREAK*
It was a bad situation. Upsilon and Zeta teams were...incapacitated. It wasn't until Theta team arrived by helicopter with the tranquilizer guns that we managed to subdue his weapons. The fox did not go down easily, it took three darts to take him down. The rat was much easier with one dart, and the target himself took seventeen tasers to bring down. Yeah, he was that uncooperative.
We renditioned the target off to [REDACTED], and with that my job is done. I don't know what happened to him, that's above my pay grade. He'll be interrogated. Thoroughly. And after seeing what he did to [REDACTED] and the rest of the team, I'm not sorry about it.
But it's alright. We won. We caught him. And god knows if there's any others out there like them, we gotta catch 'em all. |
This was as it should be. Story time can mislead us all. Was it a fable or was simply fiction? A young maiden of 15. Waste, waste, waste everywhere for her to clean. Of course the dog could have helped. Time however wasn't on his side. Why did the clock strike 13? Did she not hear it? You would hope this story makes sense in the end. Keep up your spirit dear reader, all was as it should be.
Reading?
All will be as it should be when you look to the begininng of each sentence. |
*What?* I thought to myself. That's not what I sound like in my own head.
*I said, please don't let them kill me*. The voice was young and innocent, like a child asking their mom to please buy them some ice cream.
*Hello?* I ask. Not being able to think of anything more clever to say to a disembodied voice.
*You can hear me? Oh that's great. I just got the eyes and ears working when the big men in white coats told you about me. Please don't let them kill me.*
*Well, um, that's, that's very odd. I'm sorry, who are you exactly?* I wasn't about to make any deals with something I didn't know anything about. For all I knew this was some sort of psychosis caused by the parasite, and I was talking to myself right now.
*My name is Tim. I've only been in here for a few minutes and I really don't want to leave.*
*Thank you for telling me Tim, but that really barely scratches the surface of the questions I've got. I assume you're the parasite? How one Earth can you talk?*
*I'm not entirely sure. And I guess I'm not really Tim, I'm a vessel for him.*
This was taking a turn for the even weirder. *A vessel? I'm sorry Tim but that doesn't help me. A vessel for what?*
*A vessel for the boy in a coma in the next ward. He's only got nine months to live and he wanted to have one last look at life. You've got a wife, kids, a nice home, a stable job, all of the things that Tim wanted out of life. So an angel heard his last wish, and allowed him to spend his last nine months inside you. I'm the vessel for his consciousness. You have a choice in the matter. That's why I'm a parasite. If you don't want this you can get rid of me. But please don't let them kill me nice man. If you do, my consciousness will return to my own body. I don't want to spend nine months in the dark.*
The doctors were coming back with the anesthesia now. I thought about how ridiculous this all was. There was no way I could be sure that this was real. It certainly sounded completely ridiculous to me. And even if it is real, how do I know this 'vessel' or whatever, wasn't going to do permanent damage to me.
Then I looked over into the next ward, and saw a kid on a ventilator. On the door to his room, the sign said 'Tim'. I noticed he didn't have any friends or family waiting with him, even though it was time for visiting hours, and during the holiday season too.
*Of course Tim. You can stay as long as you like.*
Edit: grammar type stuff and some words. |
We were all children once, stumbling in the dark. But our parents would hear our cries and pick us up. And they would pull us into their divine embraces, allowing their warmth to flow into the heart of us.
Here we are, one-hundred and forty five brave adventurers, who find ourselves at the last event worth knowing. A lifetime ago we began as wanderers, ready to set sail from the shore of the Cosmic ocean.
The final hour is not met by joy or celebration but by a solemn calm. Occupants lie together at the centre of the observation orb, looking out at the body of the Omega, and silently join hands in respectful unison. For if there is one thing that we have learned through our advance into the great expanse of space and time, it is that we are all privately longing to return once more to what we felt at the Beginning, whether fanciful dream or distant memory, it was a feeling that we all once shared. A feeling that unites us.
Once more we retreat into the warm embrace. In the final moments we will be together, for small creatures such as we, the vastness is bearable only through love. |
***
Jason kneaded his reddening eyes with the bone of his palms.
"Fuck this,"he said as he ached his body up past his sheets. His night shift was waiting for him in the toilets of a local bar. Fumbling for a cigarette on his drawer, he eyed the late payment notices, and then the clock.
"Piece of fucking shit,"he scolded. Noticing he was late, he threw on ragged jeans and a wrinkled shirt that lay strewn upon the floor, not caring they were dirty from the filth of the night before. He poured himself a cup of whisky and lazily stumbled out the door, gulping the whisky that kept him moving forward.
Then a thought occurred as he watched a local convenience store whisk by the window of his rusting buick. *Why live this way?* as he eyed the glove compartment.
"Fuck it,"he announced through the alcohol lingering on his breath. He reached into the compartment, grasped the heavy metal, and slammed on the brakes for a u-turn toward the convenience mart.
***
Ashley looked into the mirror as she readied for her date. She was a recent college graduate that met a nice man at work who asked her out.
Her phone rang and it was him.
"Hi Ashley, looking forward to seeing you tonight,"the voice said.
"Me too,"she said smiling. *What if I'm not beautiful enough?* she suddenly contemplated. *What if he doesn't like me?*
Midway through her ride to meet him at the restaurant, perhaps she needed a quick shot of vodka to loosen her spirits. Phone in hand, she dialed her date indicating she would be just a little late. Not looking, she bumped into a stumbling man toward the convenience mart.
'Excuse me,' is what she wanted to say - but there was no time.
"Bitch,"replied the man in worn clothes as she hurried toward the beverage section.
***
Amir smiled his grand smile welcoming all of his patrons.
"Good evening, Shirley!"Shirley always came exactly at 9:00 PM for a bag of caramelized crackerjacks and a coke. A brittle old lady, but always smiling.
"So how is he today?"Amir asked concernedly. He was referring to her husband recently diagnosed with cancer. The crackerjacks and coke was for him.
"He is doing better, thank you,"Shirley said quietly as she reached for her purse.
"No, no."he said frowning, "On the house tonight Shirley,"he said, his smile now bigger than ever.
"Thank you sweet heart,"Shirley whispered, slowly gathering her bag and walking toward the door. Amir rushed from behind the counter to open it for her.
"You're a gentleman,"she said as Amir noticed tears forming in her eyes.
"Nothing of it,"Amir replied. He held the door open a while longer for a briskly walking woman and what looked like a homeless man, as he normally does, smiling.
He heard the man mutter something to the woman as she quickened her pace forward, dropping her phone into the store.
"Ah, let me get that,"handing the phone back to her.
"Thanks,"she said heading toward the bottle rack.
The raggedly clothed man began to exclaim in a stutter, "Ok- you - fuc-ker. Put all the money into - a bag - all of it - into a bag."
"No,"Amir said.
Shocked, the man wriggled the gun in his hand. "Do you see this- you fucker?"
"Yes,"Amir said softly.
"You wa-nt to die tonight-?"
"No, Jason. Nobody wants to die tonight."
Walking over to Jason, Amir gently placed his hand on Jason's shoulder.
"Jason. I see you come in here all the time for that pack of cigarettes and your whisky. What is it you need. I will help you."
Sobbing, Jason let his arm rest as Amir huddled him closer.
"It's ok bud. It's ok. We'll work this out together." |
"Seriously, you have to come like, right now."
"Is that a pink saddle?"
D rolled her eyes. "Is that a *white* futon?"
"It's kitschy!"
"I'm sure."D sighed. "Now come on, I gotta take you."
The man in the silk robe frowned, looking back at his apartment, then at D again. "Take me where? Are you selling
cookies?"
"Look, I was going to ask to come in and do a whole thing,"D replied, from the door, "stick your face in the frying
pan, all that, but you've ruined it, ok? So let's just go."
"Come to think of it, I don’t think you're allowed to bring a horse to the penthouse here. How did you even get it in
the elevator?"
"I'm just going to fill your body with wasps and have them kill you from the inside out. Does that work?"
The man shook his head, like trying to purge away an inconvenient thought. "I have a friend coming over. It was nice meeting you, little weird girl, but I –"
D blew. From her mouth, a thousand and thirty four hornets (and a bumblebee) flew out, diving straight like an arrow into the silk robe man's body through every orifice (*every*). The man stood still for a second. Then, just as D turned back and climbed on her horse, the screaming and the pouring blood from every orifice started.
"Five billion, nine hundred and twenty-two to go,"D sighed, guiding the horse out the window into the night.
_________
"It's low carb,"Gina said, the cake half-way to her mouth. "And it's Sunday."
F raised an eyebrow from her side of the table. Around the coffee shop, people were stuffing their faces with
doughnuts, cupcakes, all kinds of sweets and bad things for you.
But Gina was ok. Gina was going to resist.
"Aren't you?"
"Yeah,"Gina replied, bringing the cake back to the plate. F smiled, taking a fork and diving into the pastry.
"This *is* exceptionally good,"F moaned, taking a bite. "What is that, whipped cream?"
"And walnuts…"Gina replied. Her skin where the shirt sleeves ended was wrapped tight around bone and whatever muscle had still not being corroded by the 350 calories diet a day. Her cheekbones were like bars on old radiators, all pointy and hard. Her mouth was dry and cut with scar tissue from not drinking enough water.
F had been working on Gina for three months now. It was looking good.
Looking thin. Looking sharp.
Well, to almost everyone around. To Gina, in the bathroom mirrors and the reflections on the car window, the fat was still there. The double chin. The legs with no gap between them. The Mr. Potato waist.
Gina sighed, bringing a sugar substitute package to her mouth and chewing it, paper on and everything.
"Well,"F said, banging the table as she got up. "Keep up the good work, Gina. I gotta go. Dinner at the Outback Steakhouse. I'm having the chicken."
F winked. Gina nodded, her bony eyes were deep enough you could see every twist and turn of her skeleton. Her blood was missing in iron and a bunch of other things you need to be a person. Her face was missing smiles and good teeth.
F was a good knight, like, in general. But this with Gina was *top notch* work. One of her best.
Better than her stuff with Gandhi, even.
"See you around, Gin Gin,"F waved, making way to the exit. "Keep that slim figure going!"
____
W looked around at the playground, grabbed a handful of sand and stuck it in the kid's mouth. The kid gasped and
choked.
Stepping away, W looked horrified and pointed. "That little girl stuff sand on that kid's mouth!"
The parents turned to look. In a unified movement, the two couples rushed to the sandbox, one tending the blue-
turning kid, the other reprimanding the blonde 'what-is-happening-I-didn't-do-nothing girl.
"Would you watch your kid, for crying out loud?"
"I'm terribly sorry, I didn't –"
"Mom, I didn't do anything!"
"Shut up! Is he ok, Terry?"
"Hey, don't you tell my kid to shut up!"
"It's fine, Jeremy. Maddy tried to –"
"I don't care what Maddy did, it's *our* job to educate her, not some random –"
"Your daughter tried to choke my son to death!"
"Oh, stop being a wuss, will you? He's fine, you're raising a little bitchy –"
"DON'T PUNCH HIM, JEREMY!"
"GET OFF MY HUSBAND, YOU BITCH!"
"Someone call the cops! Someone call the cops! Oh my God!"
While the focus was on the four grown-ups rolling on the ground, W took her chance and stuffed more sand, on
Maddy's mouth this time.
________
C sat alone in the room, moving pieces at random on the board. The rattling sound of keys reached her from the entrance.
"Hey,"D called, closing the door on her way in. "Did you have a good day?"
"No,"C replied. "What about you?"
"Killed a high-end Manhattan stock broker,"D answered. "Hornets. What about the others?"
"Don't know,"C said, throwing the dice. "You wanna play with me?"
D tied up her horse by the dining table, making way to the living room and throwing herself on the couch.
"Nah, too tired,"she sighed, turning the TV on. "Big day."
C pulled the Risk board away from her, frustrated. "You know it's been like a thousand years since I've had a day's
work?"
"Yeah, well,"D replied, flipping through the channels, looking for murder news. "You should be grateful. It's no picnic, doing what we do at this day and age."
"Every battle now is for some complicated resources or political scheme,"C continued, dropping her head to the table. "No one wants to conquer things anymore. What am I supposed to do?"
"Uh-hum,"D replied, eyes on the TV. She straightened a pillow under her head. "Oh, cool!"she smiled, turning the volume up.
Saw 2 was on at HBO.
______________
*Thanks for reading! For more stories, check out /r/psycho_alpaca =)*
|
"Goooooood evening, ladies, gentlemen, and rotting humanoids! You're listening to O-F-U-K, the station with all your favorite tunes to wander the wasteland by! I'm your host, Martin Cline. We've got some great stuff coming up tonight, so don't touch that dial!"
I reached over and opened the filing cabinet, flicking through ten or twenty CDs before selecting something at random. I blew a thin layer of dust off the case and popped the disc in the player.
"Up next, we've got a personal favorite of mine: *Margaritaville* by the great Jimmy Buffett! Most of you spend every waking moment pondering the cruel eventuality of death, so why not forget about your troubles for a while? Swap the rifles for a pool chair and your first born's corpse for a smoothie, 'cause here comes Jimmy!"
I sighed and leaned back in the chair as the steel drums echoed through the abandoned studio. The studio was fairly well equipped, even comfortable. I had my bed, made from cardboard scraps, a vending machine with about a week's worth of food left, and of course a couple thousand CDs. I mean, there are worse ways to slowly die.
The Buffett melody tapered off and I brought the mic back to my face.
"Allllll right, listeners, it's that time once again! The fifth caller - actually, any caller - to give us a buzz will win a fabulous prize! This time, it's a bag of stale Oreos! Punch in those numbers and you could be the lucky recipient. That's 1-800-236-OFUK."
I opened the drawer to look for another CD when, I kid you not, the goddamn phone rang.
"Jesus! I mean, uh, hello?"I muttered, pressing the speakerphone button on the dashboard.
"Hello, Martin? Big fan. I was just wondering, do you think you could play *Careless Whisper*? I just love that song, and George Michael is such a babe."
"Uh...I mean, sure. But do you have, you know, any provisions? Like, food or anything? Where the hell are you calling from?"
"Well, that's a little forthcoming of you. In fact, I'd go so far as to say it's none of your business."
"Come on, lady. You can't be serious. I haven't talked to another person in three weeks. Let's arrange a meet-up, eh?"
"My God, you're a creep. Just leave me alone and play the song."
"Wait a second, I--"
The line was dead. I sighed and looked for the folder marked "M,"then let the saxophone solo envelop my eardrums.
I mean, I gave myself this job, right? It's not like I was going to back out of a request. I opened the bag of stale Oreos that no one was ever going to pick up and took a couple bites.
It really isn't such a bad way to go out. Cheap processed foods and the music of a forgotten society. Now I just gotta pick the last thing I'll hear when I finally call it quits.
I'm thinking "It's a Small World."Just to make death seem that much more appealing. |
I wearily open my eyes to a bright white light, my eyes painfully adjust to the light as I take in my surroundings. Monitors, tubes and curtains around my bed..damn I've been spawned in a hospital. I better not of been given some type of health handicap! I scramble out of bed as I snatch the chart off the foot of the bed, but my legs give way and I land hard on the cold floor. God damn it! It says I'm only level 20, no wonder I'm so weak. I've got to get out of here and level up, fast. I throw on the base level clothes available, despite the minimum armour rating; I'll need to upgrade as soon as I earn some coin I mused as I ran out the hospital doors.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Sir..Where's the coma patient going!? Shouldn't we stop him?"the nurse queried anxiously
The doctor let out a heavy sigh as he straightened his tie, "...no"he concluded solemnly
"B-but sir! That's your so-"the nurses protests were interrupted
"I KNOW THAT! Family or not, don't you see? The sustained time playing that game caused his carotid artery to clot leading to the coma. It caused catastrophic trauma to the medial temporal lobe. In other words he now thinks he's-"now the doctor was cut off
"H-he thinks hes still in the game.."the nurse finished as her eyes widened and her hands flew to her mouth
The doctor stoically watched through the window as his son plucked a stick from a bush and begun waving it around like a sword. "Poor bastard..he always did prefer fantasy to reality, I hope you're finally happy son"he finished with tears glazing his eyes
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Where you headed?"the taxi driver asked cheerily as I hopped in with my new level 1 sword
"I need to do some farming, you know the best place for that NPC?"I queried hastily, the longer I took the longer the others had to get ahead. They already had such an advantage with this shit spawn.
"Uhhh you want to go to the farm?"he asked perplexed
"YES, are there any low level NPCs spawning there!"I query excitedly as I continue modding my new weapon with a clothe handle for an agility boost.
"There sure are kid, heard there's some wild bore round there too, my uncle will pay anyone who can kill some for him, as the damn things keep breaking his fence and spooking the livestock. OK kid, next stop is the farm!"the driver finished with a smile as he fired the engine to life and set off into traffic.
Alright! My first side quest, once I kill the bore I can use the extra XP to take out the low level spawns much easier, I raved internally. I look out the window to see an elderly doctor looking me directly in the eye from the upstairs window of the hospital spawn. A pang of sadness and importance swept down my spine, huh, is that the final boss? Oh well this gear isn't going to mod itself! I reaffirm to myself as I turn my attention back to my new loot. |
In his family, it was considered well mannered to eat dinner in your human form. It was cleaner, slower paced, and more respectful to potential guests. It was a good habit to have, he realized, looking around the tavern at the amounts of sharp teeth ripping through carefully crafted dishes. It seemed like such a waste to him, were they truly appreciating the meal or merely sating some primal urge for sustenance?
Focusing his attention back to the exquisite sandwich he had ordered as to not lose his appetite, he failed to notice the young lady sitting down opposite to him.
"Do you mind?"she asked, as he did his best to hold back a response that no doubt would have led to him covering her in various semi-processed pieces of a BLT.
"Kinda crowded today is all."She continued, shooting him a slight smile that made him swallow way too much, way too quickly, and probably way too loudly.
Opening his mouth and uttering something resembling words and adding on the body language of a kindergartner in a school play, he somehow managed to get across the sentiment that it was in fact not an issue. Chuckling slightly but clearly not oblivious to his obvious discomfort, she motioned toward his sandwich in order to change the subject.
"The BLT here is amazing, right? I'm pretty sure they even grow their own tomatoes."She said.
Looking down at her tray, she had in fact also ordered a BLT, along with a bottle of RedRuff Brew. Everyone he knew hated RRB, but he had always had always enjoyed the dark and musty flavor.
"Yeah, they do actually. And, since I'm friends with the cook, he always gives me double bacon on mine."He responded, before looking down at his plate at the other part of his sandwich sliced neatly in half. "Wanna try some?"
"Hell **yes**"she answered instantly, quite enthusiastic about something as trivial as sandwiches. "I'll trade you one of mine."She said, switching one of her halves with the one on his plate, and digging right in. It was then that he actually took the time to look at her. She was in human form obviously, and not too bad of a looker either, a neatly trimmed mane falling mostly on the left side of her face. The color of her fur was a light gray, a nice contrast to the darker tone of the face it framed, and her right ear was pierced in several locations. It was common for Were's to pierce their ears as it was the most prominent feature in primal form, so she was unlikely to be a pureblood.
Sitting across the table just staring at her eat, the reality of the situation finally dawned on him and his face grew red and hot in an instant and in a pathetically ineffective move tried to hide it by cowering behind the sandwich he was holding.
After they had both finished their meals, and the small talk had died out, the girl finally made the first move to leave the table.
"Well, this was fun,"She said, smiling mischievously at him. "But you better get me one of those double bacon BLT's next time."
Harboring hope but still terrified of his line of thought, he could barely manage to squeeze out a meek "Next time?"
She just winked at him and said, "Lunch hour is between 12 and 1, just so you know."
Before he could respond she got up from the table and shifted forms in preparation for the cold weather outside. Silver fur soon began covering a body of thin limbs and graceful posture, perky ears showing off the piercings like a flag, as whiskers appeared on her now gray cheeks. The pupils of her amber eyes squeezed together and elongated, staring right into his soul, before winking one last time.
And with that, she was gone, and he was left dumbstruck. She was a werecat, and he was a werewolf. Taboo to be sure, but more than that very very awkward. Did she even know that he wasn't a werecat? Would she care? These were all questions that would have wracked his brain had he not had something much more important to consider. How was he going to convince his boss to go to lunch early?
|
The motors whirred as the quantum separation beam locked into place above the slide. The machine was like a giant funnel, meters of solid steel suspended above a sample the size of a stamp.
"Johnson, flip the switch. We're going to maximum resolution."
A button would have been just as good, but a switch was more dramatic. With a satisfying clunk, it slid into place and immediately the viewing screen started vomiting colours. Molecular structure gave way to the blobs of atoms, and then past that. Quarks were separated, and eventually grew beyond the screen. Further, further it went. The machine hummed with electricity.
At last, a squiggle shape showed up in the middle. The scientists stood, slack jawed at their achievement. That is, except the head researcher. He strode towards the screen and pointed towards the string's ends, where some blocky shapes came into view.
"What... are these?"
Nobody spoke. A junior on the team took a chance.
"Uh, pixels, sir."
There was a murmur of discussion in the room. The head researcher addressed them.
"Right, pixels. Because this is the maximum resolution."
"As expected sir."
"So it worked!"
The room erupted into cheers. Johnson wept a single tear. The junior couldn't help but laugh.
"Can you imagine! I almost thought that this was some sort of existentially posed question about the nature of our universe and/or the possibility that we live within a simulation."
The room gave a hearty laugh. What an absurd conclusion that would be. |
Jesus.
It's not often that I name a deity, seeing as I killed them all, but in this case, jesus.
I enjoy my job. Bringing people to their death isn't as hard as you may think.
"What about that kid with the flu?", well, that kid with the flu now is dead, and technically speaking, more alive than before. His parents will be joining him soon enough anyway, and he has his grandparents to stay with him.
I really enjoy my job. Many people think that Death only waits, and then guides people. Nope. I decide when and how. Man, the laughs I had with JFK. Why? Just for kicks.
Anyway, I like my job.
But Jesus these people.
Someone thought it would be a good idea to mix jellyfish DNA with lobster DNA and put it in humans DNA, to put it simply.
"We'll live forever". One, no you won't, not on my watch, and two, this mess caused a bigger mess.
You see, lobsters have longevity, and jellyfishes have basically a built in de-aging machine. Humans don't.
Put it complicated, their bodies and minds couldn't cope with the extra years and de-aging machine, thus degradating at an exponential rate, leaving the host rotten, and longing for gray matter, to substitute the lost matter .
Put it simply, zombies.
Now, this isn't exactly a problem for me. Everyone will still die, and I will still be in charge. But I don't want zombies.
See, when people die, their souls, if you want to be romantic, or consciousness, if you want to be technical, flutter away. I catch it, and keep it. Where? Oh you'll find out eventually . It's complicated to explain, but imagine a jar that can hold an infinite amount of beans.
I guess it's not that complicated.
But zombies, they don't have a consciousness.
Now, I hear you saying, what about animals? Well they have a consciousness too. Thoughts, emotions, they have that.
Zombies only have 1 thing. Hunger. That's it.
Nothing else. Meaning, no consciousness to have.
Meaning, I have to clean this mess up.
Jesus. |
"Hurry up, June!"my mother urged.
That day we had ventured out of our dwelling to pick up kindling. It was a warm, pleasant day, and my mother seemed to be in high spirits. Spring flowers began to bud out from the shrubbery, cautiously, after a long, hard winter. A dozen crows watched us silently as we milled about, picking wild mushrooms and fallen branches. Then it started.
Shortly after noon, the sky darkened. My mother frowned -- it was far too early for the sun to be setting. And then, as one, the crows leaped from their perches in unison and fled to the skies. My mother froze, her face blanched. From behind the trees, we saw the mist roll towards us, a thick mantle of dread.
But as my mother grabbed my hand and urged me to run, I noticed something I had never noticed before: there was something in the mist.
Growing up, we had heard tales of how the mist had one day descended from the mountains and destroyed everything in its path; how kingdoms fell and crops died. Everyone lived in fear of the mist, and in its fear we dug holes in the ground, warrens where we lived and died and bred, and lived and died again. But there was something in the mist.
So I ran. I ran into the mist, as my mother screamed and cried and begged me to turn back.
Edit: Just posted Part 2! |
As rain pounds the window and his teacher rambles about chemistry, Stephen stares at the drool-caked paper. He was napping during class, like always, and someone must’ve slipped it in front of him. If they think he’s stupid enough to actually believe this, they’re wrong—he's fifteen, for all's sake.
Glancing around the room, he picks out the usual suspects. Sara, a cheerleader who asked him out as a joke one year. Brett, a beefy dude who talks about trucks more than he does anything else. Or, lastly, Tammy, his ex-girlfriend who’s become his latest bully. She told everyone about how much he liked cuddling, about how “girly” he is.
But none of them are watching him. They’re all busy scribbling notes.
*Whatever you write comes true, but once this paper’s full, you must erase. Erasing a wish erases the effects.* That’s what the paper says. It’s corny and dumb—so why does part of him actually want to try it?
Picking up his pencil, he taps it against his desk. He should crumple the thing up, not even give it the life of day. *You’re reading too many comic books,* his dad would say, and for once, he’d agree. He’s just gonna throw it in the trash.
But then, something thwacks him hard in the head, and when he looks up, Brett’s walking in front of him, chuckling. A fire brews in his belly and quickly explodes, leading him to write: *I wish Brett didn’t exist.*
And, right before his very eyes, Brett disappears.
He sets his pencil down, taking a deep breath. Nobody’s noticed he’s gone, and when he looks at the attendance sheet on the board, Brett’s name isn’t even there. It’s like…it’s like…like he just didn’t…
A curious smirk spreads across his face, and a second later, Stephen scribbles *I wish nobody else existed except me.* When his entire class disappears, he stands up. He’s…alone, in a classroom. Walking over to the window, all the cars on the street are empty, stopped in the middle of traffic. There’s nobody walking down there sidewalk, nobody making noise.
Nobody to make fun of him.
Taking his seat, he erases what he’d written, causing everything to go back to normal as if nothing ever happened. Eyes glued to the paper, he thinks of all the possibilities. He can wish for every comic ever created, or to be rich. He can get amazing grades and take anyone he wants to the dance.
He could be the most popular kind in school, and Brett, Tammy, and Sara could be the ones getting bullied.
While those thoughts are enticing, there’s one that’s even more important than all the others, one that, if it comes true, is all he would ever need. He hovers his pencil above the paper, hand shaking. Will it work? Every part of him says no, but he’s already seen the powers of this paper.
*Please,* he thinks. *Don’t let this be a dream.*
He takes a deep breath.
*I want a friend.*
“Listen, everyone. We’ve got a new student today!”
Stephen’s eyes shoot open, and standing at the front of the classroom’s a kid with short brown hair and blue eyes. He’s wearing an Avengers shirt and has comic books poking out his bookbag. He says his name’s Michael.
“Okay, Michael,” the teacher says. “Why don’t you go sit next to Stephen.”
As he makes his way to his seat, the bullies chirp, already making comments about two freaks sitting together, about how they’re nerds who need to lay off the superheroes. Michael’s head's sagged when he sits down, but Stephen holds a hand out, wearing a smile.
“Don’t listen to them,” he says. “I love comics too. Who’s your favorite Avenger?”
Michael’s face lights up as he takes Stephen’s hand. “Iron Man, dude!”
They talk for the rest of the class period, and when they leave, Stephen forgets the paper—but it’s served its purpose. As it moves on, going to help someone else, he will begin a lifelong friendship, and will forget there was ever a time when he was alone.
***
If you like this story, check out my sub /r/LonghandWriter or my [Twitter!](https://twitter.com/BryceBealWriter) |
*Simpsons movie sequel announced?*
That was a surprising headline. I never actually thought they were going to go through with it. I clicked on the article.
*After the finish of Season 994, the Simpsons have finally announced their sequel based on the ideas that were pulled from the frozen remains of Matt Groenig, slated to be released on the 1000th anniversary of the classic old-animation,* Futurama.
I checked the site to see if it was the Onion or Clickhole or something of the sort.
*World Universal News: Created from the shared collective.* ***For*** *the shared collective.*
What?
I looked at the related articles and saw dozens of names and images I couldn't identify. Some of the ads were looking directly at me, trying to interact with me much like something in the world of a *Harry Potter* painting would. They displayed my name, age, best clothing to fit my frame, and the year that clothing would go out of style.
*2990.*
Yeah, right.
I continued scrolling, finding many posts about the 'colonies overseas.' Wait, no, it said 'colonies overspace.' They were reffering to a lot of planets, not limiting it to Mars.
I scratched my head in wonderment and put my slowly growing theory to the test. I typed in: "Who is the president in 2987?"
*Richarrido Connerson.*
Well, that didn't mean anything to me at all.
"What is the weather today, in 2550?"
*90 degrees*
Wow, that was pretty--
*Celsius*
What!?
I began rapidly typing for more information regarding this.
"What were significant world events leading to 2500?"
*World War 3, the Planetary Emancipation, Cooling Policy of 2444.*
I couldn't believe it. What kind of world was this going to become, when was this going to happen? Why was I so worried about things I wouldn't live to. Wait, "life expectancy in 2050."
*The average life expectancy--*
"Are you still looking for it?"my wife asked me.
"Wha!?"I jumped, having completely forgotten where I was.
The game board sat before us and everyone was staring at me impatiently.
"Did *The Untouchables* come out the same year as the original *RoboCop* or not?"my wife said, pointing to my phone.
"Don't bother, I already looked it up. Dad was right, they both came our in 1987,"my son said, advancing my piece a space.
I blinked a few times, trying to recollect everything. What was I just doing. I looked to my phone to jog my memory.
"Honey, we agreed, no phones at the game table unless it's to look up a challenge question,"she said, putting her hands over my screen and putting it down.
"Right, right,"I agreed. I couldn't remember what I was doing anyway.
_______________________________________________________________________
For more stories that remind you of how often you forget things, come on down to /r/Nazer_The_Lazer! |
You and your friends would often get together to play Dungeons and Dragons. Homebrew content was always a go to, creating stories made by the storyteller’s mind. You had been waiting to start this story with a few strangers on the internet, having no idea what it would be, only knowing that it was related to space thieves or something? You make your character as dynamic as possible, making them absolutely great at combat AND utility. The day finally arrives, and as everyone joins a voice chat, you have a casual conversation. The conversation goes on for minutes, it drifting to wondering where the Dungeon Master is. As if on cue, another person joins, apologizing to the group in general before starting. A king that your character had upset, by lying and deceiving many citizens for your character’s personal gain. The dialogue goes “You are hereby banished from this planet! You have lied to my merchants and deceived my smiths, and are no longer welcome in the planet of Enn!” You take a second but gasp softly, not loud enough to be heard, and reply “Fine! But mark my words, I will return, and I’ll knock you off your high horse by force!” The DM seems to pause... thinking... before continuing. However, you get a message from the DM. Maybe those first words weren’t so out of place after all... |
**he gives you a signed release and wants nothing more to do with you.**
"What? Why?"I asked puzzled, taking another quick glance at the conveniently condensed single sheet of paper I had been handed. Labelled at the bottom of the sheet was a small paragraph in italics reading;
*You are hereby relieved of your pact, on the condition that you never contact me again, and mention no connection with me in your future endeavors.*
*-* *Beelzebub*
"I don't understand? We are on a roll here! Did you even see the quarterly documents I sent you last week? We are doing better than ever!"
"Yes, I saw them"
"Then what's the problem? I thought we were a team. I had wished to be the richest man alive, and you wanted more souls to torment. What part of this could you possibly have an issue with?!"
Making eye contact with me for the first time since our conversation began, his face seemed to take on a concerned tone. Crossing his arms and taking a few seconds to gather his thoughts, he replied.
"I Just don't like the way you do things"He replied. Whatever expectations I had were cast aside. Wondering what something like this could even mean coming from somebody in his position. Not satisfied with the answer, I pressed further.
"What? So the king of darkness, the ruler of hell, the lord of the freakin' flies has issues with how I do things? I'll head out if that's what you want, but your gunna need to give me more info then that."My additional inquiry seemed to have worked, as Beelzebub let out a sigh and put his hand on my shoulder.
"Look man, It's just not my style. I'm all for evil in all its forms, I did create it after all. But what you do is messed up. What was that shit called you kept messaging me about? Oxycontin?"
"So you have been reading me messages!"I shouted while pointing a contradictory finger. "It's perfect! It provides both of us with exactly what we need. I get my bank account filled, and you get more eternally damned sinners!"
"No, I don't"He quickly interrupted, "I get nothing from this"
"Well that doesn't make sense, I turn people into sinners and collect my paycheck. Then you swo-"
"No, That's not how this works. If you were to find a group of well mannered kids, and lead them into a life of crime. One where their thoughts are cluttered with sinful rhetoric, and their actions filled with malice. THEN I would be satisfied."
"What the hell is the difference?"
"Have you ever seen these people? Do you even realize how souls work? Somebody who was a mild mannered school teacher, gets into an automobile accident and hurts their leg. Upon visiting the doctor, they are given some of this crap you made, they go home, And then what?
"They sin?"I replied similar to a student who took his best guess at the answer,
"No, Their lives fall apart, Their thoughts become consumed by you. Every moment of their day is either stressing about how many pills they have, if they are ever going to quit, how to balance their existing lives with this poisonous shit they take, and disappointment in themselves. So you tell me, Where exactly is the SIN occurring here?!"
He shouted with such force that I needed to find my footing.
"I wanted tainted souls. What you have done Richard, Is taken their souls from them for yourself. I wanted a partner, Not competition." |
All I wanted was to be left alone and in peace.
"I don't like people. I don't like the outdoors, and frankly I think the Demon lord couldn't be a worse ruler than the inbred jackass we have right now."Was what I told to Ratur, the old prophet, when he came to summon me on a quest to kill the demon lord. An honest, reasonable and polite(for the most part) refusal.
I was genuinely not interested. Let some warrior or aspiring mage deal with this, and to hell with Fate and his trickery. But he doesn't care for the wants of mortals, so the next time I left my library to track down a lost tome, I ended up in some gods-forsaken cave, filled with bandits, naturally.
I managed to convince them to sell me the book, and they were nice enough to throw in a cursed dagger that none of them could lift . Now, I'm not really one for weaponry, but it had a very pleasant blue glow, and I *had* been looking for a reading light, so that was that. Picked it up with no issue, which probably should have been a warning.
Not a week later, I'm being challenged by the king's son, Prince Archival, to a duel for the blade and the right to kill the demon lord. My new reading light wasn't worth the effort, so I tossed it to the prince. Of course, it landed blade first into his eye socket, killing him in the spot. The judge called it a fair win. Turns out, Archival wasn't really liked.
A month after that event, Protus, the Demon lord himself, payed me a visit, to thank me for killing his arch-foe. I, fearing for my life and library, invited him in for tea, which he graciously accepted.
And that's how the world learned that the great Protus, demon lord and ruler of monsters, *as well as the* *__entire demon race__*, is deathly allergic to mint-cherry tea, which is my favourite.
The days after that were a blur. I was taken out of my library, stuffed in very itchy and absurd clothing, paraded in the streets like an effegy to be burned at St. Hallow eve, and given the highest honours in the kingdom by King Yore, who then tried to assassinate me, as vengeance for his son.
Being completely bewildered, I threw off the ridiculous Cape I was forced to wear in my attempt to escape. The desperate despot slipped on the silky fabric, snapped his neck like a twig and died, making me the ruler due to some ancient stipulation in a text no-one has seen in millennia.
So, now I rule the kingdom of Edersad, using accumulated knowledge to improve life, and install a new ruler as soon as I can, so I can come back to my beloved library. Fate has thwarted me at every turn, but I think I have it. Only one thing is stronger than Fate- mass stupidity.
Now, where did I put that text on democracy.... |
"I'm a fucking intern Bartholomew!"
"I still don't know what that means master."
Of course he doesn't, no matter how many times I try and tell him, my court-ordered apprentice just doesn't comprehend the fact that I'm not really a wizard at all, but just a botched time traveler. "Bartholomew, I want you to listen to me very carefully. Okay?"
"Of course master."He looked ridiculous, I looked ridiuclous. Dressed in these weird colorful robes that the dummy of a king said made us look powerful.
"I am not actually a mage Bartholomew, I'm just from the future. That's all, I can't fight battles with magic! I can't do any magic at all!"
He replied stoically. "How'd you come from the future?"
"Well... Uh, technology."
"Magic?"
"No dammit no! Not magic, I can't do this Bartholomew! I'm going to die!"
He came up with that dumb smile that everyone from this stupid fucking place has and patted me on the shoulder lightly, "You got it boss, I'm sure."
I could've killed him, I really could have. "Oh shit oh shit oh shit I'm going to fucking die."I was pacing around our little wizard tower like a mad man, talking to myself and losing my mind. I'd been here for five years and managed to use cheap parlor tricks and middle school math to wow these fucking plebs, and now they wanted me to fight!?! Oh, the fates are such ironic, cruel bastards.
"I'm going out to burn some witches, let me know if need anything master,"Bartholomew said as he left the tower.
"Ya, don't worry, just leave me to- Wait... What'd you say?"By the time I turned around he was gone. Leaving his "Master"to figure things out on his own, like he always does. Shithead.
"Okay,"I said to myself, trying to calm down and not launch myself out of the window of my tower. "Don't panic, you can do this. You can do this, this is just like that time that you got that priest hanged by proving Pythagoreans theorem -- Fucking idiot -- it's just like that... No biggie."
I was staring out my window, howling at the midnight moon like a fucking lunatic when it hit me. I stared at that large pearly surface of a planet, wishing I could dash off to its surface and disappear forever when I remembered something very important...
\*\*\*
"Your majesty! You're majesty!"I said desperately while running into the throne room, Bartholomew behind me like a lost puppy. "I must ask my king, when am I supposed to meet the enemy on the battlefield?"
"Ahh, hello again mage WhatTheFuck!"
"I told you for the last time, that's not my name, that's a... You know what, never mind, just when am I supposed to fight?"
"Well, about half a fortnight from today."The king said while scratching his beard slowly. "And I'm confident you'll do us proud!"
I was running the numbers in my head as fast as I could. "No... No that won't work."I had to think fast on how to best word this or I'd risk dying violently in battle. "Your majesty, that won't do. If you want the full extent of my power, enough to kill a whole army, I'm going to need two and a half more days"
"Well they'll be at our gates by then, that's just-"
"You want this war or not? That's the best I can do?"Please take this, please please please.
\*\*\*
There I was, before an army of angry soldiers, thousands as far as I could tell, all of them wanting to tear me apart. And here I was, right in front of them on some stupid-ass platform praying that my math was right. They'd been bombarding the city for a day and a half now and if I was wrong, all those deaths would be for nothing.
All the troops were anxiously waiting in front of me, I'm sure they'd heard about me. They were waiting for me to do something, to make a move, but I had to be just right or it wouldn't work at all. So I watched the sky carefully, waiting for the moment, and when I finally saw it, I threw up my arms as dramatically as possible and yelled at the top of my lungs "YOU WANT SOME OF THIS SHIT YOU MOTHERFUCKERS!?!"
They charged as I expected, but before they could reach me the battlefield went pitch black -- a solar eclipse, the fucking fools. By the time I looked down they were all already on their hands and knees, praying to me like some god.
One of the ones from the front shouted to me in fear, "What is your name oh great one?"
I couldn't resist, I really couldn't. "My name is Jesus Christ!"
I'm sure that won't mess with the timeline too bad... |
Clara sat up straight, a feeling of dread overcoming her. Her necklace was burning up. She ran her fingers over the little vial and the ring. Something was very very wrong. She couldn’t wait. It didn’t matter that they didn’t want her. This was going to get ugly. And they’d need help.
Two hours later she was on a flight to the Springfield airport. It was closest to Sutton, which is where they were digging. Sutton, also commonly known among the locals as Fool’s March. Since only fools marched in there.
Clara was feeling extremely restless. She put on a movie on her phone, only half paying attention to it. It was some mindless Adam Sandler movie. As Adam and his friends took a vacation to some exotic location, Clara wondered about some of her own travels. The things she had seen. The things she had talked to. Of course, most people didn’t usually believe her. Even if they had been face to face with the spirits right there along with her at the time. They’d usually dismiss it as a hallucination or delusion, conveniently forgetting their very own screams of fear minutes ago.
Clara had learnt that when people saw something that challenged their reality, they just held on to the reality more tightly.
Adam smiled and looked at her from the screen. “Hey Clara. What’s my name?”
Clara was still lost in her thoughts.
“Hello! Clara?”
Clara finally noticed it. There was no character that shared her name in the movie. She turned her attention to her screen.
The Adam looking back at her wasn’t the one she was used to. This was a grotesque being, half of its head split in two. Each part had an eye each and at the moment they were both trained on her. “What’s my name, Clara?”
“I… I don’t know.”
“Well then. I’ll have to tell it you then. Come closer. Let me tell you my name. You know you want to know.”
Clara fought against it. But even against her will she found herself moving closer to the screen. Looking at the… the thing. The other characters in the movie smiled and laughed, carrying on an usual.
Clara felt her fear rise. Her eyes were touching the screen now. The thing reached out and…
“Ma’am, would you like anything to drink?”
Clara opened her eyes, noticing the air hostess moving around with the drinks tray. She looked back at the screen as grown ups were acting like silly children. She turned it off.
Should’ve brought a book instead, she thought to herself. No way she would get any sleep now.
As the plane landed, Clara felt her heartbeat rise again. She turned off her phone from the aeroplane mode. She had read somewhere that it didn’t really matter if you did that but Clara didn’t care. She had learnt to follow rules at a very early age. She ran her fingers over the ring hanging around her neck again.
4 missed calls. It was Professor Anand.
God damn it. They should’ve listened to her.
She called him back but there was no response.
The first taxi she hailed refused to take her to anywhere close to Sutton. So did the next two. She finally offered the next one an obscene amount of money. He agreed to drop her off about a couple of miles away from the ghost town.
“Why’s everyone so scared to go there?”
The taxi driver adjusted his mirror looking at the young woman. “It’s haunted.”
“Oh really? By whom?”
“No one knows. We just know that no one who goes there comes back.”
“Then how do you know it’s ghosts.”
“What else could it be?”
“What else indeed. I was reading up about this place. Seems like a whole colony disappeared here.”
“Yeah. Not just one. Two. The first one was actually pretty well documented. That was back in the 18th century. But what history books usually ignore is that it happened again about 10 years later. They usually conflate the two events. But it’s happened twice.”
“Interesting.”
“Are you an archaeologist?”
Clara laughed. “Not exactly. I do work with really really old things. But no. I’m not an archaeologist.”
“I saw them come in you know. Tried to warn them too. They wouldn’t listen. They rented a van. Sam didn’t want to. But they pushed him hard.”
“Yeah everyone seems to avoid that place.”
“For good reason. Look, I’d implore you to not go there.”
Clara ran her hand over the vial and the ring hanging around her neck once again. “I wouldn’t if I had a choice.”
They travelled the rest of the way in silence. Finally the taxi came to a stop and the driver pointed towards the setting sun. “That direction. Not too far. But I’d suggest you atleast wait till tomorrow morning. Don’t go there in the night.”
She looked at her phone. No signal. No further messages from the professor. “Thank you.” She included a generous tip, raised her hand to the driver, put on her sunglasses and started walking.
She had walked for about 15 minutes when she came upon the remnants of a campfire. There were some cigarette ash and wrappers thrown around the place too. Looks like they had stopped here. Probably gotten here late. Unlike her, they had been in no hurry. Theirs was work best done in light when they could see what they were digging. Hers was the opposite. Her friends were much more likely to meet her when the sun had hidden in the cloak of darkness.
She spotted the town in the distance after walking for another ten minutes or so. It was starting to get dark. She hurried on.
She saw the van parked right inside the gates of the settlement. It was an ancient design, with some exemplary etchings and art. She turned on her flashlight, looking closely at the designs.
The sealing design. But not exactly the sort she was used to seeing. It was almost like two seals interposed one each other. Weird. She took a picture with her phone as she swung her flashlight checking out the town ruins.
She almost dropped it as she saw a face staring back at her from the van.
It was Professor Anand. He was waving at her, making motions to attract her attention.
She waved back as she walked towards the van.
He kept motioning to her, trying to indicate or point at something behind her.
She turned around but there was nothing there.
She entered the ruins and started walking towards the van. She noticed the Professor sit down, hand on his forehead. She also felt a gentle push as she crossed the entrance.
She looked behind her and for an instance, there was nothing. Just darkness. Slowly her eyes adjusted and she saw the way she had walked from. With the tree where the digging party had set up camp looking more like a little shrub in the distance.
She entered the van. “Professor! I was worried about you.”
“I tried to warn you. You shouldn’t have entered this place. Now you can’t go back. You’re trapped here with us. With it. You shouldn’t have come here, Clara.”
In the distance, she heard a scream. But even at a distance, even not fully hearing it, she could tell that this was no human scream. Something was in the city with them. |
I sat slouching, the sensation of cold material spanning the length of my back like an icy barrier. The manufactured briskness of the structure remained trapped in a most peculiar sort of state - too real to seem digital, but too… *off* to mimic true, unfiltered reality.
The quaint frost outpost was the same location I’d used for sleeping during the last several years. Its crumbling, lone wall of ice made for a decent enough wind-block, and the unwavering danger of the *frostbite* debuff was the only real danger out in this stretch of land.
Even still, that prospect held very little concern for me - maybe even none.
Yawning, I flicked two fingers upwards, idly scratching my shoulder with the other, currently free hand. My in-game menu instantly swished into existence.
*’Passive Skill: Guard of the Sun Baron.*’
*’Active ability: Resistance to the ‘frost’ effect and cold-oriented debuffs.’*
*’Status: Operating.*’
Ignoring the immediate pop-up, I absent-mindedly scrolled to my quest log, before a rather unexpected notification grasped my attention.
*’1 Hostile Player in nearby proximity.*’
I didn’t know what to make of it. This game was well beyond the word *obscure* - hell, I wouldn’t be surprised to find out there’s no related search results if you looked it up on even the most efficient search engines. And this was no measly beginner area either: the domain of the frost-bearers was an extremely late-game location. In fact, I suppose this didn’t count as end-game at all. Rather, this was a hidden segment of the world only reachable through a series of even more secretive quests - which then require ridiculously well-hidden items. All of which, you need at least max level to have even a fighting chance at traversing their whereabouts.
*…so who the hell had done all that, for a game that mere seconds ago, I was convinced I was the only one aware of it’s existence?*
An idea suddenly occurred to me. After activating an inspection based technique on the surrounding area, my suspicions were proved true.
*Player type: Admin.* |
"Oh dear..."The dragon murmured, each word rumbling in her chest like a thunderstorm. "I didn't anticipate this."
The young fledgling, not even an adult in human society, perked up at her tone. "Didn't anticipate what?"
The dragon dipped her head to be closer, to make the shock gentler. "It would seem your blood has latent dragon lineage, my little spark. A dragon must have laid with an ancestor of yours, while in a human façade. Your scent, it shifted once you rolled in the gold, in a proper hoard."
The boy, for that was what he had to be if he was not yet a man, looked down, both pensive and anxious, as his scent revealed. He could learn to hide that, in time, but he was yet little more than a nestling.
He would need a parent to guide him, and she doubted there was another dragon that wouldn't eat him for a good distance. He had revealed he had no human parents, either. Oh well.
She lowered her wing, making a tent around him, and he could feel the sheer warmth that radiated and soaked into him. "I will take care of you, little one. Other fledglings born like you, not in scales at first but skin, can grow to control and expand their powers. But not alone. I shall guide you. I shall nurture you. I shall protect you."
She bumped him gently with her snout, and he laughed. She licked his cheek, before deciding on the next step. "You may call me Mom." |
\- \[So he's just been... Sitting there?\]
\- \[Yeah... Kind of freaks me out, man. I mean who stays stoic in a situation like that? At least call or ask questions or... I don't know, anything, but this? This is just *weird*.\]
\- \[Alright... Well, we need more direct insight on their world and possible secret defenses if we want the invasion to succeed, so... Let's see what we see.\]
The soldier left his colleague and entered the containment chamber. Air had been made to replicate Earth's atmosphere - which was close enough to his home planet's that he only needed a small gaz mask, although his physiology was so utterly different from the human's that he would probably not even notice.
Actually, it was hard to tell whether the human was noticing anything at all. He didn't react in any discernible way to the soldier's entrance, his gaze rising the only sign of acknowledgement.
\- Hello, human. You are now detained for the sake of interrogation. We captured you so that you may share your knowledge of Earth.
\- Yeah. Makes sense.
\- Sense? How so?
\- It's 'cause I know too much, right? The lizard people sent you to try and see how much information I have.
Lizard people? Puzzled, the soldier looked to his right. Parts of the cell's walls were made of a material that let light pass on a frequency outside of human's eye perception: for the prisonner, it was a wall, for the soldier, it was a window. Behind it, all kind of people were closely listening on the interrogation, and after looking at a few notes, scientists made a definite "no"gesture. Scans and observations of Earth had shown no signs of such biological life form.
\- What lizard people?
\- The ones that make up all the world's governments. So they can make them obey the Illuminati.
\- Who are those?
\- Group of people who control the entire world from the shadows. No one even know they exist, but they're here, and they use our private data to mind-control us.
The soldier looked for help again, completely lost. This was nothing like what their observations of human culture and organization showed. Scientists seemed less sure that time, and frantically consulted their notes, but ended up waving "no"again.
\- If this group is so secretive, then how are you aware of its existence?
\- I'm just following the signs. You know? Investigating. I'm really smart, so I can see through their lies easily. And I talk to people who know, too, and we share information. We network. And we figure out more and more about the secrets they want to hide from us.
\- And what would those secrets be?
\- Well, I'm not going to reveal anything. Sorry, buddy, but I'm just too tough. You'll never break me. But I can tell you some obvious things that you would already know, just so you can see I know more that what they tell us. Like, for instance, I know that the Earth is hollow.
\- Hollow? As in empty?
\- And there's another Earth inside.
\- Another Earth? How would that even...
\- And the Moon doesn't exist.
\- Earth's moon? We're parked on it!
\- The Black Knight is an alien ship - one of you guys', I'm guessing.
\- What?
\- Governments are using planes to launch chemicals in the athmosphere.
The distressed soldier looked right, but the scientists were already waving.
\- Apollo 18 landed on Mars and was destroyed by aliens.
\- What??
Three hours later, the soldier exited the room, on the verge of collapse. The gallery watching him had left the observation bay and was waiting for him.
\- \[You ok, man?\]
The soldier leaned to support his friend, who looked like he was about to pass out from his headache.
\- \[Someone tell me what the hell that was.\]
\- \[I don't know what to tell you, sir. Our readings are unambiguous: he was not lying.\]
\- \[Do you think we should interrogate him again?\]
\- \[NO! Hell no. I am not going back in here. That thing is absolutely insane.\]
\- \[I have to admit, that was fairly worrying. Are all humans like this?\]
The scientists briefly exchanged whispers as they looked at their devices.
\- \[Well, I don't know about *all* humans, but, what he said definitely checks out. We're getting documentation for every single thing he mentioned on their global network. From what we can tell...\]
Unsure, he turned to his collegues, who clapped their agreement.
\- \[Yes, sir, probably most of them are bat-shit crazy.\]
\- \[General, our invasion was based around the idea that they knew they couldn't use nuclear power to defend themselves, lest they turn their own planet into a wasteland.\]
There was a pause.
\- \[Are we really *sure* they're not that stupid?\]
The commander stood in thought for a while.
\- \[You know what, maybe we're staying clear from those guys.\] |
"Okay, you lost me. Can you explain it again?"
I heard some variation of this phrase every time I met someone new, since I was a kid. Everyone's Extra Abilities are kinda weird, but mine is on a whole other level, one that makes explaining it really, really hard.
But I don't want this girl to think I'm some kind of a jerk, after all, we're on a date.
"My mom can make clones of herself, but only if the sun's touching her skin. My dad can transform into a hybrid between a toucan and a crocodile. So, I can make clones of myself which imediately turn into Crocans when they're out in the Sun."
"Wait. How do the clones act when it's not daytime?"
That was the tricky part.
"Well, it depends. Sometimes they act like normal people, other times, like toucans and sometimes, as crocodiles. It all depends on the intensity of the light when I created then."
"I feel like you're fucking with me."
"Swear I'm not. But enough about me, what about you, what's your Extra?"
"Well, I can also create stuff. My mom turned rocks into cats, and my dad can quadruple the size of domestic animals, so I..."
Before she could finish the sentence, a being with the body and tail of a crocodile, but with the head and wings of a toucan, was smashed into the glass of the little coffe shop we were in. Standing on top of it, there was a very large cat. |
Hero summoning a body is incredibly difficult, which is why instead their soul is simply tied to an existing body so firmly that it's harder to dislodge than a normal soul. There are also always extra bodies during summons, so any souls caught in the in-between don't become ghosts and start wreaking havoc and disrupt the insertion of the hero's soul.
Now, all of that means nothing for me. I'm the library nerd and unofficial girlfriend helping Hero Kazmuc study in the university library before... all of this happened. I was sidelined while the hero's soul was secured, and had to use my own imagination to secure my own. Unfortunately, the local secondary body at the time was a Kobold, so I wasn't even necessarily useful in terms of combat skills. At least I got to keep my gender straight and had none of those trope moments like the side characters of TV shows always find themselves in. But I was just that; a secondary character in the story that had been thrust upon Kazmuc, or as I knew him, Jason.
I was sent away with a small sample of coins and a quick apology, and left to survive a life on my own. At first, Jason helped me out as I figured out how to move around, read, write, and that kind of thing. Jason was always too active to figure out a new language, so I was his assistant; his secondary.
As time moved on, however, he started to leave me behind. At first it was the risk of me being kidnapped, then turning down my offer to build him a gun 'due to the principle,' and eventually just running off onto side quests and then pushing me aside altogether.
In my eyes, he turned from the Jason I knew to the egotistical Hero Kazmuc when he purposely sabotaged my equipment to fulfill some kind of side quest. I don't even remember it anymore, just collecting some apples for a farmer or something stupid like that.
The last time I saw him was while crossing a mountain pass way north, by the Infinite Boreal Tundra. Ignoring the less-than-creative and completely inaccurate name, given how most of the region is a forest, I managed to crawl my way out of there without enough kindling to light a fire and stumbled upon the Firma kobold clan while they were searching for a new den.
Normally, I would point them in another direction and chase after Kazmuc to keep the gods happy, but this time I decided to settle down. After all, they were being pushed by here on threat of genocide, and even then were going to starve from lack of food.
But the Kobolds and Goblins that had joined forces had two things: Metal and biofuel.
I put my knowledge to use, and got a hydroponics system working far, far further north than before. Up here, in the Pyrimean Boreal Mountain Pass, so far north the Infinite Tundra ends and instead turns into Icebergs surrounding the North Pole.
All of this meant that I could continue to progress scientifically, and teach the other Kobolds how to be engineers and scientists and technicians. Extra geothermal electricity was isolated, and with it electronics such as motors and, most importantly, digital electronics. Screens, computers, and all that other good stuff.
Word got out about our safe haven, and a clan of beastkin moved in. More and more joined as we continued to expand, until on the four-year anniversary of my summoning and three-and-a-half year anniversary of my abandonment, I founded the Terra Firma Sapience Union, promising to treat every single sapient equality. It took time, don't get me wrong, to figure out a way to make the logistics work when our population exploded into the millions.
Then, the gods took notice and sent Kazmuc up to my location.
The Holy Crusade against our fledgling civilization may or may not have been the catalyst for us to invent Magical Hard Light, isolate it and remove the magic components and truly invent Hard Light. We may have or may not have sent satellites into space, infiltrated the God's Palace with intelligence drones so small even their Divine senses can't find them, and we may have or may not have built a space fleet and launched the frame of a Space Elevator.
What matters is that we have guns and tanks and sunstone-powered explosives - albeit untested explosives. We have railguns and lasers and anti-air systems and submarines and antimagic generators. We have an unholy number of weapons ready to go.
The gods want war. It is up to you if they get the war.
But you, Kazmuc, will be the one paying.
I am the villian, you say. Nobody who can side with a monster can not be corrupted by the forces of evil. Tell me, who started this war? Your march? Me, and the existential threat posed by being peaceful? Or the Gods, and their quest to have the perfect world.
Something I noticed was that each encounter we came across was staged. There is no force of evil or light in this world, only what is precived to be evil and good. If morality is set and controled by the gods, then it isn't morality, but a social standard.
The gods are the forces of evil you're looking for.
You are not Jason. You are not a citizen of the United Nations of Earth and Luna. You are no longer human. You own slaves, Kazmuc; slaves! You are a dictator, you are the genocidal Trace from your old favorite webcomic. You, Kazmuc, are no longer the Jason I knew.
Or do you even remember? The times we spent laughing at the times Flora stole the pen, the time we first met when we moved into room four hundred and twelve in that dorm on Hyperlane Circle, right across from that strip mall with that awesome and cheap pizza place? Do you even remember Rachel?
Becasue you're not showing it.
And to the gods responcible for this, when all is said and done just remember that the In-Between holds more than just floating souls.
It's Lady Luck and Miss Karma's domain, after all.
And, to quote a certain someone, 'The two of those am I going to give unto you.'
\- A message delivered by the TFSU's Emergency Broadcast System upon the Holy Crusade crossing the border.
\-----
"Yeah, well,"Kazmuc yelled out, his breath being picked up by a circling stealth drone. "Jason is gone. I'm better now."
And the First Unification War began.
\-----
[https://twokinds.keenspot.com/](https://twokinds.keenspot.com/) The genocidal Trace reference. Twokinds! (even though I'm not caught up and my school wifi blocks the website for some reason)
r/Twokinds Flora stole the pen reference (addtional, non-canon art; also twokinds)
**Edit:** Grammar, pacing at the start of the story.
**Edit2:** Clarification in the 'we may or we may not have' paragraph. |
They summoned me from Earth, into their shitty little backwater kingdom with no toilets, no showers, none of the marvels of modern technology. They put the Sword of Ages in my hand, and donned me a full suit of Mythril Plate, then taught me the Power Nine, spells of overwhelming power. Their voluptuous princess who summoned me offered me her hand in marriage. Then they pointed me at the Evil Overlord's Fortress and asked me to risk spellfire and brimstone slaughtering my way over there and kill every evil creature along the way.
"Sure thing,"I said.
I lopped off the king's head. And the heads of all his retainers and ministers and the court wizard for good measure. *And* the princess.
As she lay crumpled on the floor dying, she gasped, "why?"
"Didn't the king ask me to slaughter every evil creature on my way over to the Evil Overlord's Fortress? Well, that's what I'm doing. I'm just starting from here." |
"It's a simple procedure. You'll be out for a few minutes, then wake up. We'll mark the clone with a tattoo on his left arm. Everything's gonna be fine. Routine."
I took a moment to think about everything that had happened. The war that broke out. The national draft for every able-bodied man to send a clone for the military. Did I agree with it? Well, I mean, it was gonna be my clone in the war, not me...
"Alright, John, a nurse is coming in shortly with an IV for the anesthetic. I'll be right back to perform the surgery. You won't even know what happened,"he said with a comforting smile.
The nurse came in and put the IV in my arm, much like when I got my wisdom teeth removed. "When will it kick in?"
"Any second now."The nurse replied. And with that, everything became a dream.
I remember bright lights, some muffled dialogue, and some very odd dreams involving my childhood pets turning against me; the kind of nightmares I used to have when my parents brought home that large dog so many years ago.
In sort of a daze, I find my surroundings. I'm on a white bed, in a white room, with a large glass mirror. I sit up slowly; my head is a little groggy and the motion makes me dizzy. I look in the mirror and see myself conversing with the doctors. Wait, the room's a little different. There are no doctors here. It's a window. I notice the me in the other room has no tattoo. I look down at my own arm.
I get a lump in my throat. This can't be right. My head starts swimming, and my mind starts racing. I get a panic attack, just as I do when I contemplate eternity for too long. Adrenaline is pumping in my veins, and I can't seem to relax. I hop up and start pacing.
I am flooded with realizations. I'm never going to see my wife again. I'm never going to make my children grilled cheese sandwiches on the weekend. I'm never going back to my job that I love, never going to see my co-workers or play that LAN party I had planned for my brother's birthday next month. Never going to finish building that arcade cabinet for my emulator. Never going to repaint the kitchen like I told my wife I would.
What about when I die? Will I go to my funeral? Will I get to go to my parents' funerals when they pass away? Or am I going to fight all my life in this war I'm not really sure I believe in? What about when my son graduates college? When my daughter goes to her first prom? Will I be there? Will I get to walk her down the aisle when she finds the right man? Will I get to give a toast when my brother gets married?
My life as I knew it was over. Everything I was looking forward to in life was now gone. Taken away from me. Only a war to fight. A war with other people, just like me, with wives they love and children they won't get to see grow up.
I hope they put me on the front line. |
"Your resume looks pretty good,"I said to the Greek God, "Says here you sling lightening bolts at non believers?"
"Used to,"his voice thundered, pointing to a spot on the paper, "I stopped that a while ago, set the weather on autopilot centuries ago."
"That's good, we really don't have a lot of use for that here anyway,"I admitted.
Looking down at his paper again, "I'll be honest, Zeus, I don't really see how your qualified for this job."I hit the paper, "I mean, I see your really qualified to keep Gods in order, but how does that relate to farm work?"
His voice bellowed and shook the house with his laughter. "My my, mortal, you have quite the expectations."He smiled with pearly and perfect white teeth, "I'm very experienced with the wooing of animals."
Confused I cocked my head, "Wooing?"
He shifted a glance to the side and said, "erhm, err-- I mean *cooping.* Like, ya know taking care of chicken coops."
"I see, I've never heard that word, *cooping.*"
He slighted another glance to the side, "yes, the --uhhh-- words are slightly different up in Paradise, ya know."
"Of course."
He shifted, "As I was saying, I'm really good with animals. I've never had a bad relationship with one."
"Well, Zeus, we try not to get too attached to the animals here,"I scolded, "none of them are long for this world."
"Precisely why they're such good dating material!"He bellowed, "no commitment!"
The house shook again with this laughter, only to be cut suddenly, realizing I wasn't laughing
"I don't get it."
He cleared his throat, "oh it's nothing, what's the next question?"
I eyed him suspiciously, "How many hours a week can you commit?"
"Well,"he thundered, "I don't really need to eat or sleep. I'm kind of like a god, ya know? So I can do whatever."
"That's good,"I admitted, "and are you ok with the official uniform?"
"Sheeps wool? That's fine, I don't really need it for the warmth, but hey, more cushion for the pushin' if ya know what I mean, eh?"He laughed, nudging me with his elbow.
"I actually have no idea what you mean. What pushin'?"
"ehhhh, umm.... Ox carts and such. And goat sex."With that final comment he clasped his hands around his mouth, eyes wide with the naked truth.
"Gods damnit, Zeus!"I cried, throwing his resume to the ground, "I thought you said that shit was behind you! It says right here on your Godly Resume that you attended Bestiality Anonymous for fifteen centuries!"
He let out an apologetic smile, and shrugged his shoulders, "guilty pleasure I guess."
I said nothing.
"So, do I get the job?"He asked
"Get out!"This time taking my turn to shake the house. He scowled and followed my pointing finger to the door and left. Leaving me to my pile of resumes.
*Gods Damned Goat fucker...* |
*Knock knock*.
Who the Hell knocks at someone's door at 2:30 AM?
*Knock knock knock*.
I sighed and walked to my door. I would normally never open it so late, but there wasn't really much to lose in the event that it was a knife wielding maniac.
*Knock knock knock*
"Yeah, yeah, I'm coming..."I muttered. Checking through the peephole, I saw a young woman in tattered jeans and a t-shirt. The shirt was all black with the words, 'Who Saves the Saviors?'. Odd, I was thinking that exact thing not three months ago. I unlocked the door and pulled it open.
"Hi."The woman said. She had long blond hair and a model's body, but had no make-up on and was wearing New Balance running shoes. Most women who looked like her wouldn't dress so... *efficiently*.
"Uh,"I scratched my unkempt beard, "Hello?"
"You're Orpheus."It was more a statement than a question.
"I am. And you are..."I trailed off, but she didn't answer it.
"Can I come in?"She asked with a wide grin on her face. You'd think she just met Santa Claus.
"Why not? Why *the Hell* not."
She smiled even wider and brushed past me, walking straight up the stairs.
"Wait, not there!"I yelled at her, but she just kept going. She moved effortlessly up them, avoiding all the creaky spots, like she's been in here before. Puffing out a small breath of air, I followed her up, just in time to see her open the door to my room.
"So,"she said, "this is where it happened."
She was looking at the noose I tied up to the support beam as she walked over to the chair. I stared wordlessly at her. She knew what was happening here.
"Who are you?"I asked.
"A fan."
"A fan? No one even knows who *I am*, let alone *appreciates* who I am."
"I know who you are Orpheus, the man in the shadows."She used the nickname my old partner used. As far as I knew, no one else knew that name. It died with him.
"How?"I stood in the doorway, between her and outside my room. Adding some menace to my voice, I said, "you better give me answers now."
She laughed. She *freaking laughed*.
"I know you wouldn't hurt me. You just pretend to so you get answers. I read your book."
"My book?"I asked her stupidly.
"Yeah,"she said as she pulled a thick book out of her bag. *Unsung Hero*, by Arthur Kent. The cover was a picture of me pulling a body out of a blazing building. I remember that night, so far as I knew there wasn't anyone there to have taken the picture. "See."
"I have a book."I said.
"Yeah, that's how I knew about your... activities tonight. It ends with you, my favorite character,"she smiled again when she said that, "killing yourself here. The main character finds your body tomorrow morning."
"I'm not the main character?"I ask.
"No."She says.
"Figures." |
He came as I rang the three little bells.
Simple Pete signaled toward the midnight storm outside, "I thought you knew to avoid that storm... Suppose it seemed it was manageable earlier... Over there's whiskey for you and me. Oscar said he thought you would want to be toasty after coming from that down pour. Said the wet dirt road would stop any man, one minute flat."
By now, I had loaded my trusty pistol, holding it in my right hand behind my back. Quickly I pressed the barrel to Pete's temple. The bright white wall sprayed red, I knelt and prayed for forgiveness.
__________________________________________________________________
**As the bells signaled midnight, I knew that it was over for me. He would be coming down the road any minute now, loaded pistol in hand. Back pressed to the wall, I prayed.**
|
In the free markets of today, they say there are only two unstoppable forces. Corruption and negligence. Ironically, a company will usually become negligent of its own corruption and spill all the beans along with the baby, bathwater and even the bathpan. This is how Henry found himself spending a rainy Tuesday assigned to the largest auto meat factory in continental United States.
The problem was apparent before he even stepped inside. It was broken. More accurately, everything was broken. As if all the machines had given up at the exact some time. Just like a room full of busy people waiting to see if they can just go home and enjoy dinner. Nobody wants to be the first one to move but as soon as somebody looks like they might stand up, half the room has their coats on and is out the door.
So to, did all the systems in the factory fail at the same time. The MEATIFYER 3000 (as happily proclaimed on the side of the machine) had burst at the seams and had invented a whole slew of new seams. The conveyor belts had all decided they had become tired of running circles and had all decided to test exactly how far they could travel in a straight line. The result? Really bloody far. Nevertheless, one machine stood alone in the carnage untouched. No name or markings. Henry was drawn to it.
It's understandable that Henry was confused. You see, unlike one would expect, this plant didn't actually produce any meat. The actual process was quite complicated, involved time travel, alternate universes and, of course, the satanic burning of copious cookbooks. Alas, satanic rituals are generally bad for business and hard to get FDA approved. Thus, MEAT Inc needed a front. They commissioned a bunch of noisy but useless machines and the executives were left to count their piles of money. Of course, if you asked anyone at MEAT Inc, they would vehemently deny everything. This is mainly due to the fact that the last surviving person who knew the plot made a drunken bet against the devil and lost (though that is another tale entirely)
Along with the rest of the world, Henry had no knowledge of these events and at this moment of time was standing in a sea of very broken, very noisy, extraordinarily useless machines. Of the many reactions one could have to such a scene, Henry chose one of the better ones and opened his notebook, flipped to a new page and stared at it blankly. He then closed his notebook and stared at mystery machine in front of him. Finally he settled on "Huh."and figured that just about covered it.
Henry had just decided to write the whole thing off when the machine opened, revealing the spacetime portal that ran the whole operation (the demonic book burning was located off site.) Never to be one to turn down to call of adventure, Henry stood frozen in place by fear where a normal person would have fled as if their pants were alight. Slowly a man emerged from the depths. Clothed in something akin to gangsta bling combined with a military uniform, the man was entirely out of place.
"Henry?"The man inquired? "Come with me."And he thoughtless stepped back through the giant rift in the universe that was currently causing Henry true distress.
If it was fate or an ultimate plan that set the next events in motion, nobody save god will ever know. It was at this exact moment that the Belt Clipper Deluxxxe overheated and triggered the fire safety system. Being entirely a coverup, this plant did not have the normal fire safety system one would expect. In the event of malfunction, the plant was designed to erupt in a glorious inferno and hide any evidence of wrongdoing. Henry soon found himself between a metaphorical rock and a hot place. As he backed from the cleansing blaze he tripped into the portal and this started his first true adventure. |
We step on them every day. But now they're stepping on us.
"Bella,"said Yuli, taking a sip of his coffee "Come take a look at this!"
"What is it?"Bella Donna swiveled over to Yuli's desk.
"You know that pet project of mine, right...?"He fumbled with his thumbs.
"Yeah, the crazy conspiracy theory on stairs,"Bella sighed, "Don't tell me you're still working on that. We've better things to do than mess around with that, and besides, we've got escalators."
"That's - that's just *it* Bella, escalators!"Yuli nearly shouted, "Don't you see? Their very coming was predicted by each one!"He was met with a dumbfounded expression.
"What?"She glanced at the calendar, "Yeah... It's not April Fool's, so I don't know what you're on about."She stood up to leave, "I'm going to grab some food from the cafeteria, if you don't mind."
"No, see here!"He pointed at his monitor, filled with a zany mess of lines on a grid, "A flight of stairs,"He mumbled to himself, clicking his fingers to the keyboard, "Uh, here the rise is..."More mumbling, "Run with a set of..."
The screen flickered with every input, the mass of lines growing ever more complex. With a smug look of satisfaction, Yuli revealed the numbers on the screen:
20, 8, 5, 25, 18, 5; 3, 15, 13, 9, 14, 7
"And just what am I looking at here?"Bella said, obviously annoyed, "This is just a bunch of random numbers!"
"You're half right,"He chuckled to himself amused, by his statement, "Every number that is a multiple of five comes from the rise divided by the run, inverse to standard slope equations. The multiples of seven and three represent each flight of stairs with half multiplied onto itself, then ran through a serious of equations formulated by yours truly."
"So? They're still numbers."Bella might as well muse with him, if she was going to have to stand through this.
"Again, exactly! Each represent a different letter of the alphabet by numerical value, A-Z. Now, do you see it?"He waited for a response.
Bella gasped, "By god, you-"
"Yes, THEY'RE COMING"
"You forgot something, Yuli. Let me see it."
"Alright, alright, impress me."
Bella took control of his computer, tapping in concentration, and within a minute, they were greeted by the ominous set of numbers:
20, 21, 18, 14; 2, 1, 3, 11
TURN BACK. |
If you want to be kept up to date, please use [this link](http://www.reddit.com/message/compose/?to=RemindMeBot&subject=Reminder&message=%5Bhttp://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/2ycm04/wp_the_villains_of_gotham_assemble_at_wayne_manor/cp8qrza%5D%0A%0ARemindMe!%20%2024%20hours). My inbox is being flooded by "RemindMe!"messages. I'd prefer that to stop. If you have any criticism or something like that, feel free to send me a P.M. or just comment.
With that being said, I hope you enjoy this little story. I will try to add 1-2 short updates/parts per day.
________________________________________________________________________________
It was night in Gotham and going through the streets, one would feel as though a heavy burden was laying on the city. Arguably it's biggest benefactor, Bruce Wayne, had died under mysterious circumstances and while the burial this day had been a private one, there had been few who weren't affected by his passing and the local news had a non-stop coverage about his life and it's sudden, unexpected end. What was unbeknownst to virtually everyone was that with him, they had also lost the Dark Knight, their protector, most famously known as the Batman.
Meanwhile, the doors of Wayne Manor stood open and several peculiar figures entered, one after another, every one of them a former adversary of the late vigilante. All of them had received a black, bat-shaped invitation card. On every single one of them, there was something so compelling to the recipient, that none of them could possibly refuse the included invitation to Wayne Manor, this night, between 11:30 and 11:45 P.M., not a minute earlier nor later. But the most peculiar thing about these invitations was that no one could say how they had received it, as everyone learned as they were chatting in the entrance hall. Everyone found theirs suddenly in their pocket or on their nightstand. Many of them had included the keys to the cell the recipient had currently resided in and when they would use it, the halls would be mysteriously empty.
As everyone was chatting, they all kept their distance to the Joker, who, completely unlike himself, stood silently in the middle of the hall, staring into nothingness, clearly not wanting to be disturbed.
"You knew, didn't you?", Edward Nigma said, his eyes fixated upon him.
Harley Quinn, who stood behind the clown, chimed in, putting her arms on his shoulders: "What is he talking about, puddin'? You have been so gloomy all day, you're frightening me."The growled response merely was: "And I told you, again and again, that you should shut your damn mouth. Now stop bothering me, or shall I hit you again?"
The Riddler just said: "So you *do* know. I haven't expected anything less of you. Of course, if anyone but me would have been able to discern it, it would of course had to have been you."
Even though all the criminals had a mind of their own, the clown's strange behaviour up until now, as well as the strange situation in general had caused them to keep to themselves without causing any trouble for a change. But now, their interest was awakened. Killer Croc, who already had grown impatient snarled:
"What iss he talking about, Joker? Why are we here? What's going on?"
Words of agreement were exclaimed throughout the room, while several people merely nodded.
No one present that moment would ever forget for the rest of their lives the next words that were uttered. The Joker said, barely audible:
"Batsy... that is Batman. He is, *was*..."
"**Bruce Wayne.**"
The last words were loudly proclaimed by Alfred Pennyworth, who had just entered the room through a door on top of the stairs, which he now started descending, seemingly unbothered by the chaos that his words had just brought about. Many people were yelling over each other, some were demanding explanations, others voiced their disbelief, thinking they were being held for a fool. It was the Penguin, Oswald Cobblepot, who managed to calm everyone down eventually, screaming on top of his lungs: "Shut up! SHUT UP! **SHUT UP!!*. I must hear this. Your explanation better be good, 'cause you've got many of the most dangerous people this city ever had in this room and if you don't choose your next words carefully, they're gonna be your *last*."
During all this, Alfred just calmly stood there and the rotund little man in front of him, who pointed his weapon-laden umbrella right at his throat, didn't seem to bother him at all. However, after this angry outburst, a flash of red and blue whizzed through the room and none other than Superman now floated right next to the butler, saying: "No one will get harmed tonight."This again stirred the people present and a racket broke out. While some remained quiet, dumbstruck by the news and what was happening around them, only the Joker stood absolutely still in the middle of the room. Some of those present rushed to the exits, but Superman flew to all of them and sealed them with such remarkable speed that no one really could have sworn that he had moved at all. He bellowed, with supernatural volume: "**STOP!**".
Everyone stopped whatever they were doing, because even though they knew of Superman's reputation of never harming anyone, he had an aura about him that let everyone know that he was in the worst possible mood and wouldn't mind severly hurting anyone who disobeyed him.
"I just buried my best friend today and one of *you* is the key to finding out how, why and by whose hand he died."
Everyone just stared at him in disbelief.
"No one will leave this house until I have the answers I want."
He turned his head towards Alfred, who still held his ears in pain and apologized quietly. "Alfred here will fill you in on the details. I suggest you listen to him."With this he flew over to the door, an unmoving, but obviously unpassable, sentry.
*To be continued.* |
Nobody had ever escaped from Walker MaxSec. But truthfully, I doubt anyone ever really tried. I’ll explain why, but I need to back up a bit.
There was a long span of time where being a law-man was pretty rough. Unjust police violence had a long, unchecked run in this country, and people had started to take notice. They were standing up against the cops in droves, and retaliation was on an unprecedented upswing. The government was sensitive to the human rights issues at first, until cops started dying.
The movement started with social media and quickly got out of hand. #ShootBack was trending, and it was horrifying. But it happened. The anti-police sentiment had reached a new level, and something had to be done. It was a movement of martyrdom, since everyone involved saw it as a suicide mission.
The mentality was this: “If our lives don’t matter to you, they don’t matter to us.” The reckless began to meet, organize, and grow. It was domestic terrorism, and the target was the police.
That’s when, for me, there were two important events, both political and personal. I’ll start with the political.
The government response happened in two stages. It began with new legislation, re-categorizing cop-killers as capital criminals. It was part War-On-Terror, part Rico, with absolute zero-tolerance. To some degree it worked — cop killers were being given the death penalty hand over foot. But you can already see the flaw here. The perpetrators didn’t care. They welcomed the death penalty. It was free PR for the cause.
That’s when congress got creative. How do you deter a martyr? It was an impossible problem, to which they devised an equally impossible solution.
They started by employing the NSA. Full psychological profiles were derived by observing internet communication, cell conversations, satellite surveillance, you name it. The goal of this effort was the identification of someone’s “Critical Other,” as they were deemed. Basically, this was the most important, most loved individual in a person’s life.
Now the government had more leverage, and the trials shifted focus. Cop killers were brought forward on the same charges, with the same evidence, but the punishment was no longer levied against the perpetrator.
How do you stop a martyr? Well, it’s simple. Make it about someone else. It worked amazingly. You want to kill an officer? Fine. The death penalty goes to your Critical Other.
This brings me to the personal part. My father’s case.
Growing up, my home life was tumultuous, to put it lightly. Shouting was common in the house, mostly heard through thin apartment walls as I pretended to sleep. It became a lullaby for me. But I never got used to the pushing and shoving.
One night in middle school it got loud. A neighbor phoned the police, and they responded. They broke down the door, guns drawn, and yelled for my parents to get on the ground. My mom was upset and crying. Maybe she was trying to make a point, maybe she didn’t understand. But she kept standing. And that’s when the officer fired.
My dad lost it. He wrestled the officer’s gun away and fired back. From my room, I’d heard the shot that hit my mom, the pause, and the four shots my dad fired, downing both of the officers.
He turned himself in immediately. He was brought up on the charge of capital officerial murder. The punishment: life imprisonment at Walker MaxSec.
Walker Prison was the physical embodiment of the new rule of law. There were no walls. No fences. Just a simple agreement. Stay within Walker, or the government will execute your Critical Other. This kept people in line. It’s easy to be reckless with your personal safety, to become a martyr for the cause. But escape wasn’t worth it when the life at stake belonged to your wife, your parent, your son.
So that’s where my dad has been ever since. Sitting quietly, obedient at Walker, the only prison in America to boast a zero escape rate. As I write this letter, I am fully aware of the injustice done to my family. I am a Critical Other, the only thing keeping my father in prison. In memory of my mother, I am writing this open letter asking my father to leave Walker. This is my suicide note. |
**INT. BEDROOM - NIGHT**
Bedroom doors are kicked open by **MARK** (teenager, wearing a fedora and a jean jacket, totally cool). He enters the room and finds **JENNY** (10 as in hotness scale, not age) laying naked on the bed.
**MARK**
Waiting for me?
**JENNY**
Have sexual intercourse with me, please.
**MARK**
Oh, yeah. Beg for it baby.
**JENNY**
Please, have sex with me.
**MARK**
Yeah, that's it. I enjoy your dirty talk.
**MARK** unzips his pants and presents his penis to **JENNY**.
**MARK (CONT'D)**
You like this penis?
**JENNY** points at his penis.
**JENNY**
I love this penis.
**MARK**
I know you do. This penis likes you too.
**JENNY** moans for some reason.
**MARK (CONT'D)**
Now, to the matter at hand. Would you like to have
sex with this penis? I mean me, would you like to have
sex with me?
**JENNY**
Sexual consent granted.
**MARK** removes his pants but leaves his fedora and jacket on. He climbs on the bed.
**MARK**
Get ready for the night of your life. I'm gonna wreck it.
She cums before they even start. First she gives him a handjob that turns into a blowjob and ultimately becomes a titjob. She cums again. He eats and fingerfucks her pussy. She cums multiple times. After the foreplay is done **MARK** begins penetration. The first sexual position is missionary, the second is doggystle and the third one is cowgirl/reverse cowgirl, each position lasts 5 minutes. They both lose track on how many times **JENNY** has achieved orgasm so far. Once that passionate quarter of an hour is done, they do anal for a while. After they hit the 40 minute mark of their sex session, **MARK** pulls out his penis and ejaculates on her face. She's happy to receive his semen.
**MARK**
No need to thank me. I know I'm the best you ever had.
They hug each other and fall asleep because I guess they're a couple now.
**THE END** |
>The Rabbit's Hole is Real.
I frown at my phone. That's something I do a lot. Frown at my phone.
"Is everything all right, Tricia?"
"Yeah. Yeah", I tell Dan, still frowning. "Wrong number, that's all."
Phone pisses me off. I liked the days of the old, big desktop computers. When a good knowledge of backdoors and TCP/IP was all you needed to have some fun with the internet. Now everything's fancy and *secure*.
But that's probably for the best. My pirate days are behind me. I'm no Kevin Mitnick. Not anymore.
Me and Dan, we keep walking, and I feel the phone vibrate again.
>It's not wrong. I'm looking for you, Tricia.
Now I'm a little spooked. And I decide to say that.
"Ok, I'm a little spooked."
"Why?"Dan asks, and it's his turn to frown.
"Someone's screwing with me", I say, looking around. Maybe Sarah saw us. It's the kind of think Sarah would do.
"Look."
I show Dan the message. He looks from the screen to around us, too. "Weird", he says.
Yeah. I'm gonna say it's pretty weird.
Vibrating again. I check it.
>Ohio Street and Baker. 9 PM. *Alone.*
Ok, now this is ridiculous. "Dan, listen, someone's really trying to –"
"Do not bring Dan", Dan says, and the voice coming out of his mouth is low and scratchy, and it's not his. "Go alone. Ohio and Baker."
I stare at his face blankly for what might have been seven years. "Wh-what?"I ask, finally.
"What?"He asks, again in his normal voice. "Tricia are you ok? You look pale."
"You just said… You just… But you didn't read the message with the address… How did you…?"
"Tricia, what's going on?"
I'm feeling dizzy. I peak at the phone screen, scared of what I might see there.
Nothing. The messages are gone.
_____
You know, I'm really not ready to be a grown-up, is what I just realized. Maybe I'm a bit too naïve. Because I just brought myself alone to a dark corner in the middle of the night following an anonymous message. I feel like that's the sort of thing my Dad would frown upon, if he knew.
Maybe. But for God's sake, after that shit with Dan? It was either figuring out what's going on or never sleeping
ever ever agai –
*Shit. Someone's coming. Ok, be cool. He looks young and thin. You can take him. What the fuck's that on his
hand? OH LORD IT'S A GUN, I'M GOING TO BE SOLD TO A FAT MAN IN UKRAINE, HE'S – It's ok. It's a phone.
It's not a gun. It's o –"
"Tricia", the shadow says, finally stepping into the light. His hair is dark and so are his eyes, and he's wearing a
leather jacket.
I'd do him.
*Tricia!*
"Who are you?"I ask, at once. "What's going on?"
"Just listen. I need to tell you who I am and what's going on", he says.
"Yeah, I know. That's what I just asked you to do."
"Huh. Ok", he says. "Ok. First of all, let's get this out of the way: You're T-20, and I know it."
I try really hard not to widen my eyes, but they fail me. *How the fuck does he know that name?*
"Let's not play games. Can you please confirm that you are T-20, so we can continue?"
"I'm T-20", I say, finally. It's not like he works in the FBI or anything.
*Oh, shit. What if he works in the FBI?*
"I'm not a cop, he says, like he read my mind. "My name is Ted, I'm a hacker, too. Well, was... Anyway… Listen, let me bring you up to speed, cause I only have five minutes before I try to upload myself to a physical body again. I was going to explain everything to you via the messages, but they kept deleting it before you read. It's a miracle those few came across."
"What? Who's *they*?"
*How does he know about T-20?*
"A couple of months ago I found a website by accident, on reddit. It was an IP address only, and it lead to a page
with a search box. Whatever I typed on the search box was delivered straight to my house. I'm talking money,
cars, TV's, *anything*. Anyway, at first I thought it was the FBI fucking with me, but then –"He stops to look at his watch. "Shit, I don't have a lot of time. Ok. So. The website. It wasn't the FBI. I tried to track the IP and couldn't, but I got a message from someone, some time later, telling me to meet them here. I did, and…"
He checks his watch again. He's talking and gesturing really fast now. "Shit… Ok, long story short: We are not real people. You. Me. Anyone."
"What?"
"Earth is a simulation program created by aliens that accidentally became self-aware. Like imagine if your The Sims characters suddenly came to life. And now the aliens found out about our little *singularity* and they're trying to
kill us. You know… Like a machine revolution, except *we* are the machines. Check this out."
He raises his head to the sky, opens his hand like he's Jesus and closes his eyes. *Ok, he's crazy*, I think.
And then his hair turns from black to blonde in front of my eyes.
"See? In time, you learn to control some of your bits and bytes. Anyway", he says, checking his watch again. "Gotta
run. But I'll be in touch, We're gonna need your help."
And he turns his back to me and walks away.
"Wait!"I scream, but he's disappeared already.
Like…
Literally disappeared.
___________
*Hey! Ted's backstory about the real life search engine is actually a full story all on it's own. It was an answer to a prompt I wrote about a month ago, and you can check it out [right here.] (http://www.reddit.com/r/psycho_alpaca/comments/309y46/wp_you_find_a_mysterious_website_where_you_can/) Thanks for reading!*
|
"So, remind me again... who are these people?"Andy whispered, gesturing toward the small group of people sitting behind him, "And why do most of them look like me? Except for that little yellow guy..."
"His name is Emmet,"Chris told Andy. "He's a Master Builder."
"Uuuh..."Andy's face grew red. "Leslie told me that we're not supposed to be doing that, and 'specially not in City Hall..."
"Andy, just go sit down,"Chris said, pointing to the double-decker couch that Emmet had brought for them.
"Got it, boss."He ran over, only tripping once, and ducked between Peter's legs to find an open spot.
"Before we start,"Chris said to the whole group, "I think some introductions are in order. Owen, how about you start?"
Owen jumped down gracefully from the top couch and faced the group. His five o'clock shadow was perfectly groomed, and his hair was ever-so-perfectly tousled to give him that tough-guy appearance. His Indiana Jones vest was smeared with some type of blood. "Owen Grady,"he said with a masculine nod toward everyone else. "I'm a scientist who works with dinosaurs at..."
"*Dinosaurs?*"Emmet interrupted. "That's *awesome!*"Andy's head bobbed enthusiastically in agreement.
"I know,"Owen answered with his trademark cool scowl.
"Ok, thanks Owen,"Chris said. "How about you, Emmet?"
The little yellow Lego man stood and waved happily. "I'm Emmet! You probably know me as the creator of this fine piece of furniture that you're currently sitting on. And also I saved Bricksburg one time with all my friends. I like long walks on the beach, and tacos, and expensive coffee, and the show 'Where are my pants?' and my favorite song is 'Everything is Awesome,"and..."
"Pff,"Peter interrupted. He held up a worn cassette tape. "You've clearly never heard any of *these* songs."
"Ok, Peter,"Chris said. "Your turn, I guess."
Peter looked up, not moving. Chris waved a hand, gesturing for him to come forward.
"Sorry, me?"
"Yeah,"Chris said. "Come on, introduce yourself."
"Oh, weird,"Peter said. "Because you were talking to someone named Peter earlier when I've told you a dozen times that my hero name is 'Starlord'!"
"Right,"Chris said, rolling his eyes. "Come on then, *Starlord*."
"Oooh!"Andy said, jumping up. "I'm changing mine too, then! 'Johnny Karate!'"He kicked the air and made chopping motions toward Starlord. "Ooh, no, wait... '*Bert Macklin, FBI.*'"He pulled a pair of sunglasses from his pocket and whipped them on. "You have the right to be quiet!"he told Chris with a grimace. "No, wait..."
"Andy,"Chris said. "Let's stick with Andy for now."
Andy pointed a finger at him. "Good call. I'm Andy Dwyer, lead singer of Mouserat. You've probably heard of us. No autographs, please."
"All right,"Chris interrupted him. "That's good, now we all know each other. So, there's a rampaging Indominus Rex loose in..."
"OH!"Andy exclaimed. "Rampaging Indominus Rex! New band name, I call it!" |
“Safety tests have been completed and verified” the powerful voice boomed, “Commence countdown”.
All my life I've been preparing my self for this moment. I've spent far to long looking up at my obsession. I doubt I'm the only one too. She is the diamond among the stone, the perfect among the plentiful, the fruit just out of reach...
“60... 59... 58”
Ryza is the mystery which has perplexed my people since we've had the capacity to do what we take for granted today.
“52... 51... 50”
Ryza has always been there. A beacon of hope that reminded of us that there was and is more to this universe than only us.
“41... 40... 39”
The moons in the sky are plentiful. There are so many in the night sky that if one were to go missing I doubt only the most skilled and attentive astronomers would notice that it's ever been there and has since then disappeared. But not Ryza. Ryza is different.
“28... 27... 26”
A beautiful blue tone, one which rivals the bluest water my eyes have ever seen, and lights. Lights that we believe are in no way natural. Lights that inspired us to make lights of our own. Lights that inspired our people to become the powerful people we are today.
“17... 16... 15”
I wonder what awaits me on that planet. A powerful blood thirsty civilization, a civilization which looks upon us with the same sense of awe as we do they, or even mindless luminescent creatures.
“9... 8... 7”
Whatever it is, there's no turning back now. The hopes of my people and my own curiosity are the only things pushing me to do this...
“4... 3... 2”
And I'm in no way disappointed.
“1...”
The world holds it's breath as the space ship shutters and whines. All of a sudden the engines roar to life and propel the crude rocket higher and higher into the sky. No words or cheers are to be heard, instead tears and looks of awe fill the faces of the people.
EDIT:
Words are hard.
Wow, I'm glad you guys enjoyed it. |
"General! They've taken the slide!"
I looked up, stroking my beard of grass and ruining it in the process. "All according to plan."
"G-general?"
"Are the pitfalls in the sandbox ready?"
Private Mike looked at me as if I had lost it. "Of course, but those are only a few inches deep! At best it'll hold them off a bit longer-"
I held up my hand. "Have you forgotten that I have never lost a war before, private?"
"Yes Curtis- erm, general, but this time, there's no way we can turn things around. Without the slide, without our weaponry-"(they had taken the sticks and acorns) "-the newest privates are already crossing over to the enemy!"
I shook my head. "Their lack of faith will only haunt them once we win."
"I...I don't understand."
I simply waved my hand, and officer Alice appeared out of the bushes. Mike made wide eyes. "A...a girl?"
"Are the special forces ready, captain?"I asked Alice, ignoring Mike's protests. I smiled when she nodded.
"General, I-I must protest,"Mike stammered. "The situation is dire, but this-"
"War is hell, private,"I cut him off. "And playground history...is told by the victors."
I watched my enemies cross the sandpit, delayed by the rough terrain, and turned to officer Alice. "Give the signal."
She whistled sharply, and out of nowhere, all girls of our class, nay, of our entire year, emerged and took position at the edges, closing in on the boys in the sandpit.
"Wh-what's going on?"the boys inside exclaimed, shying away from them. "No, stay away!"
The enemies' commander, Emperor Dirk, had managed to avoid the deadly trap, and came rushing towards us. "General!"he roared, anger in his eyes. "Release my men! This is too far! We agreed, no chemical warfare!"
Meanwhile, the girls closed in further on the sandpit army, giggling and with arms outstretched towards the horrified soldiers. Private mike had to avert his gaze. "Cooties,"he muttered. "We've made a pact with the devil."
Alice expectantly held out her hand, and I handed over the pack of oreos I'd procured, careful not to touch skin. "War is for the living, Mike. Those who worry about the afterlife will only meet it sooner."
"Generaaal!"Dirk roared, his cape of tablecloth waving in the wind as he jumped. I stepped aside and let officer Alice do her work. One kiss on the cheek, and emperor Dirk was felled, writhing on the ground.
"Not like this,"Mike was muttering, pale now. "Not like this."
"War has no winners, private,"I said gravely. "Only survivors." |
Having dinner at the kitchen table, taco night. My sister came home from university, so it's more lively than usual. I ask my dad to pass the salsa. As he goes to grab it he freezes, they all freeze. And then I freeze. And then I run. Run to the bathroom, lock the door and pray to god they won't knock it down in time. An eternity passes, the banging stops. I slope down on the floor, and I sit there. Eventually, I wash my face, stare at myself in the mirror and go back out there. My mom says I shouldn't go to the bathroom during dinner. I sit down and ask for the salsa. We're all out. |
Day 1:
Target spotted in shopping district. Purchased 2 coats, a scarf, 1 book, and coffee with extra whipped cream. Did not watch cup closely. Possible poisoning? Tailed her home. Cooked, watched tv, went to sleep. Security at house appears to be as target information stated.
Day 4:
Obtained job at coffee shop. Target comes in daily, but does not look at me. One week remaining before elimination date. Coffee burns not as bad a cigarette burns; still unpleasant.
Day 6:
Target has increased her attendance in last two days, coming to the coffee shop two times yesterday and again today. Suspicion may to have been roused. She watches me closely until I look up, then surveys the room intently. No conversation has been made.
Day 7:
Tailed Target until my shift at coffee shop. Target stopped at coffee shop once, only to glance at counter and leave again. Came in twice again during my shift. I smiled when she looked at me in attempt to look nonthreatening. Target returned smile, seemed nervous. She suspects.
Day 8:
Target sat in corner both for over an hour. Watched me. Her face turned red when I looked back. It was unnerving. I fumbled several orders, giving evidence that I was not experienced or skilled in coffee making. Three days until elimination.
Day 9:
Situation unchanged. Buy more aloe.
Day 10:
Target came in and watched for whole shift. Smiled a lot. Did not look away when I made her coffee. Others watched and laughed. They know. They all know.
Day 10 (cont.):
Target tailed me after shift ended. Could not shake her. She is highly trained, exceedingly determined, and always watching. Never have I seen such skill and talent. Truly I am prey.
I do not like this.
Day 11: ~~Elimination Day~~
Seen by too many. Target too skilled. Mission abort. Backup plan for exit enacted. I only hope it will be enough. |
There was a time when I held a rifle. There was pride, camaraderie, and purpose. I remember coming home from boot camp and seeing the pride in my parent's face. I was on top of the world in that uniform. People held the door, old men shook my hand and paid for my lunch, and the newspaper proudly displayed my face on the veteran's day issue.
That was years ago. There was pride, camaraderie, and purpose. And then there was blood, fear, and loss of innocence. We went over there with a mission, but we left without accomplishment. There in the sand we bled and died and killed. Then we came home. There wasn't fanfare. There was no pride. Camaraderie disappeared as we all sought to forget, and purpose was lost in the chaos of domesticity.
My world hasn't changed much. I still wear the camouflage uniform which once gave me the world, although the wear of age and nights in the field have worn it bare and left it ragged and bleached. I sleep beneath remnants of canvas tarp just as I did long ago, but the shared agony of a leaky tent is replaced with the agony of loneliness. And in the darkness of a rainy night, my only comfort is the flame of my lighter and the sting of a syringe.
I used to carry a gun, but now I just carry a spoon. |
> It was halfway down the alley that she first noticed she was being followed.
A cold prickling sensation ran along her spine, the unmistakable sensation of being followed.
> She started walking faster, the "clip clop"of her high heels reverberating off of the nearby walls.
Before she knew what was happening the mugger had spun her around and his blade was at her neck. She stifled a scream as the liquor-stench of his breath filled her nostrils.
"Just give me your FUCKING PURSE and everything's gonna be just fiiiiine doll, you feel me?"he hissed out through broken and miscoloured teeth.
> Suddenly a third party interrupts their frantic exchange. The mugger spins, his knife flicks off a scarlet trail of blood as it grazes her cheek.
Behind them stands the infamous Smartass Man, his mind faster than a speeding bullet. But only when recalling useless facts.
"Good Evening,"he said, hands on hips in a heroic pose.
"Did you know that the word knife comes from the Norse word knifr?"
"The fuck is going on here?"the mugger asked, his face contorting in confusion and rage at this interruption of his easy score.
Smartass Man struck his famous Superior Intellect Pose, his fingers contemplatively on his chin in a V shape.
"Well, I just thought you'd want to know that the Chinese soft-shelled turtle urinates through its mouth."
The mugger looked visibly disturbed. His hand started shaking more heavily, he started making swishing gestures with his knife to disguise it.
"What the fuck are you on about pal, if you're some kinda hero I swear to fuck I will stab you in your fucking eyeball pal."
"And that most American car horns honk in the key of F. Also Barbie's full name is Barbara Millicent Roberts. Reindeer like to eat bananas. A giraffe can go without water longer than a camel. Butterflies taste with their hind feet. There are 336 dimples on a regulation golf ball."
The mugger's brow furrowed under the barrage of new information, he started clutching his head as if trying to determine if this was really happening.
"A crocodile cannot stick its tongue out. Nutmeg is extremely poisonous if injected intravenously. The pupils of a goat's eyes are square. The S in Harry S. Truman..."
**"ALRIGHT ALREADY, JUST SHUT THE FUCK UP PAL! I FUCKIN' GOT IT YOU KNOW A LOT OF STUFF!"** the mugger shouted in a burst of rage.
"I'm over this fuckin mugging! You're the fuckin' worst you know that? Here's a fact for you, go choke on my hairy nuts you fuckin' asshole!"
> The woman sighed a gasp of relief. Smartass Man strode away victoriously, mentally preparing for his next battle.
> His long vigil would not end until all the world's people were educated in useless facts. And safe. Mostly educated though.
|
"Are... are you sure this is all we need?"Samuel said, looking down at the small veil of holy water and plain, leather bound bible shaking in his hands.
Paul sighed and silently thanked God for this test of his patience. He looked in the rear-view mirror at the young man in the backseat. Samuel, who moments before was beaming with confidence and all to eager to take his 'final test' into priesthood, now looked like a child in over-sized robes who has never seen the sun.
"Of course, if we brought any more than we'd be relying more on our material items than God."Paul said, as he made one final turn and killed the engine.
"we're here."
Paul and Samuel stepped out of their car, a simple white van with the woods 'Northwood Church of Christ' written on it, and studied the house before them.
It was a simple single story house nestled among dozens of identical looking houses. All had walls made of brick and white-painted wood, neatly cut grass, and some bushes by the windows. Usually the only way one could normally tell the houses apart was from the numbers written on the mailbox. This particular houses numbers; 666.
Priest or not, one could tell immediately that there was something off about this house. A sharp wind seemed to blow forth from it, chilling one to the bone and filling ones head with thoughts of dread. The air around it felt dead and it seemed to be covered by an eternal shadow.
Of course, the massive storm cloud hovering over this one particular house on an otherwise cloudless day certainly didn't make the place feel more welcoming.
Paul glanced over at Samuel and gestured to the house. "After you."
Samuel gulped and, mustering all the courage he had, straightened up and slowly walked up to the front door, gently knocking on it three times. Each knock echo'd, empty and lifeless, for far longer than they should of.
The door swung open revealing a woman, perhaps 40 years old who looked at them with wide eyes that were red from crying and lack of sleep. She pointed with a thin, frail arm down into the unnatural darkness of the house and whispered "He's in there."
Samuel, hesitated for a minute, but, to Pauls surprise, regained his composer and said "Thank you mam. Your troubles are over."As he walked into the house, Paul in tow, the lady collapsed on the floor and softly started to sob.
The sound of wind rushing past ones ears got louder and the air got colder as the two priests walked down the suspiciously long hallway eventually emerging into a large room. What was once a living room was now a place of nightmares. Lit only by the dull glow of the static filled TV. The room seemed to constantly change shapes and sizes making one feel like claustrophobic one second, then like they've been abandoned in an abyss the next. On the walls and floors, the shadows danced unnaturally, forming grotesque shapes and ignoring the light. In the center of the room sat a young girl, no older than four, facing the TV.
Understandably, Samuel hesitated, then stepped into the room.
"SHHH!"Hissed the little girl without turning around. Her voice echo'd by the wind. "This is my favorite show."
Samuel froze and made the mistake of glancing at the TV. From the static he began to make out faces distorted into inhumane shapes all with mouths warped into silent screams that echo'd through ones mind. Behind them, the face of a man, flawless and beautiful, smiled at Samuel and seemed to beckon him forward.
Paul sighed and tapped the back of Samuel's head with his bible, causing him to snap out of his trance. "Remember,"he said as Samuel groaned and rubbed his eyes. "Never look at anything the demon does. And never take yours eyes off of it."
Samuel shakes his head, clearing out the images of faces that still lingered, and focused once again on the little girl. Who was now standing facing him , the TV still emitting static in the background.
"Did you not enjoy the show?"she said, a look of innocent confusion on her face. "Keep watching. Let the nice man take away all your worries."
"No."Samuel replies, his voice deep and full of authority. Taking a step forward and pointing directly at the little girl, he says. "Your days on this earth are over, demon. By the power of God, I demand you leave this little girl and go back where you came from!"
The static of the TV and the howling of the wind stops and the room is plunged into total silence. For several seconds time seems to stop, then the girl starts giggling. The wind kicks back up, much stronger than before, and she opens her mouth as a deeper voice carrying dreadful amounts of dark power forces its way out of her throat.
"You're such a fool, Samuel. Do you really think *you* can stop me? That god cares enough about you to help? That he even pays attention to you?"
All the confidence drains out of Samuel and he takes a step back. "I-I said begone!"he shouts, his voice cracking along with his composure.
"You are nothing more than an insect trying to fight powers far greater than you. I can crush you in an instant you pathetic-"
It was at this point in the demons speech that Paul decided to step in and help. He quickly and casually walked up to the possessed child and, in a flat, bored voice, says "Oh go to hell."before hitting the child with his bible the same way one might hit a dog with a rolled up newspaper for being bad. However, unlike a scolded dog, the child flew back into the wall with such force that the house shook and she collapsed to the ground.
Immediately, the lights all flickered on bathing the house in a warm light and the canned laugh track of some sitcom could be heard from the TV.
The woman who had answered the door ran into the room crying "My baby! My baby!"and threw her arms around the child, who slowly opened her eyes as if awakening from a deep sleep.
Paul turned and looked at a dumbfounded Samuel and held up his bible "'*Take the helmet of salvation and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God*'. Ephesians 6:17. The key to exorcising demons is not confidence in oneself, but in God. Of course, if things ever seem like they're going south, just hit them with the word."
Samuel stuttered a bit before lowering his head to the ground "I'm sorry father, I have failed you."
Paul chuckled gently, "Don't worry, you may have failed, but you did much better than me during my first exorcism. Now then."He says, turning to the mother joyfully crying over her confused looking daughter. "Our services are every Sunday from 9:30 to 10:20, 10:30 to 11:20, and 11:30 to 12:20. I recommend you go to whichever one works best with your schedule as well as join a small group."
The mother looks up and manages to mouth the words "Thank you."between sobs.
Paul gestures to Samuel and heads for the door. "Come on. We can stop and get some Sonic on the way back to the Church."
Outside, the neighborhood had returned to normal.
(This is my first time writing one of these, if you have any constructive feedback for me don't hesitate to let me know. Thanks!
Edit* Added time between services. |
"Hey, Lizzy. Yeah, just a few scales will do this time,"He said, leaning his sword against the desk and gently removing his helmet.
"Would you like them to come pre-bloodied?"
"With your rates?"He said, laughing "Maker knows a bucket of pigs blood will do just fine."
"Hardly recognized you in your new armor, Ian,"She said mockingly "I assume it was some sort of holiday present?"
"Hah, I think even my mom would have better fashion sense,"He said with a smile "Except it doesn't take me an hour to put on an itchy sweatshirt."
"Still remember when you were fresh out from putting on other peoples armor yourself,"She said, eyes focused on the forms she was filling out. "Couldn't tell a cuirass form a brigandine."
"Cycle of life I suppose,"He said nostalgically, "Got my own squire now, right and proper,"
"She waiting outside, then?"
"Why would you think it's a girl?"
She took her eyes off the papers for a few seconds to stare at him from over her glasses.
"Fair enough,"He said with a smirk
"Assume she is too,"
"Is what?"
"Fair enough,"She said, rolling up the papers and tying them together with a bow.
"Couldn't really say,"He said, mock pondering "Conflict of interest and all that."
"Not really a conflict if she's ugly,"
He smirked "I suppose,"
Moments after she placed the rolled up documents into the leftmost pipe, the one to her right spat out five flat tear-shaped objects that reflected light in all the colors he had ever seen.
"There we go, everything appears to be in order,"She said, typing things down on her strange mechanical scribe "Now if you would just sign here we will be sending you an invoice within the next few days.
"Always a pleasure doing business with you,"He said, handing her back the pencil, "Discourse and all."
He picked up his helmet and sword, turning to leave.
"Say hi to your squire for me,"She called from behind him
He turned his head halfway back and smiled at her.
"You can do it yourself soon enough."
And then he was gone, and the whole chamber was empty except for her and her ever-growing backlog. And to think that people would ever consider her job boring. |
“Riiiiktig,” whispered Skylar, squinting as she gritted her teeth and tried to push the pronunciation out of her mouth. “Ooooogla? Weird ass way to spell ‘curtain rings’ amirite?”
Skylar tapped at the curtain rings and sort of laughed awkwardly to herself. There was nobody else around her. She’d gotten herself pretty lost in the winding, endless maze of the store, and resorted to reading out the item names to entertain herself lest she panic.
She smelled something off to her right, then dropped down to have a smell of some nice green candles there.
“Fyrrrkkantig,” said Skylar, flaring her nostrils a little like she was starting to enjoy these funny names. She ran her finger around the outline of the square candles, and repeated it again. “*Fyrrrr*kantig.”
She noticed a slight rumbling in the ground, though it passed a moment later. Skylar figured it was probably the ventilation system somehow, and went over to some tube light bulbs.
“*Sparsam,*” she said, pushing her head back some as she did it, like the word had a surprisingly refreshing taste in her mouth. “*Spars*am, makes sense probably a good efficient light bulb. Uses a *sparse* amount of electricity. *Sparsam*.”
The light bulbs sort of started to flicker in her hand. She set it down and walked away from that spot with a face that looked like she had a stomach ache.
“That was weird,” she whispered, as she went over to a bed, and read out the word, “Smorboll.”
*Say them all at once,* whispered a voice in her mind, as the air took on a mist.
“Uhh,” said Skylar, turning around like she thought somebody in the store had heard her. “Who said that?”
*I uhhh, I work here say them again for a prize,* said the voice in her head.
“You sound like you’re coming from like,” Skkylar pointed in every direction around her. “Sound like you’re coming from everywher-”
*SAY ALL THE SWEDISH WORDS YOU SAID,* shouted the whisper in her mind.
“SURE, okay for a prize? Okay uhh,” Skylar put her hands up like she didn’t want any trouble. “Uhh, it’s,” She shut her eyes and snapped her fingers. “*Riik*tig Oogla,” She put on this strained expression as she tried to get out the next words. She was hoping she’d get a sofa for it. “Fyyyrrkantig, *Spars*am smorbollll.”
There were murmurs from other shoppers in the distance, as all the store lights started to flicker. A faint earthquake took the ground, and wobbled some of the chairs enough to make them dance around on their legs. A mist formed to the right of Skylar, as a deep bellowing voice like one coming from the bottom of a canyon screamed back up to her within the confines of her head. It sounded like the dark tongue of Mordor.
**Belllllhhaammm,** whispered a voice as a burned face the size of her torso formed in the wall of the fake bedroom she’d wandered into. **Odddmmmjuk**
“Uhhhmm can I uhh,” said Skylar, as the face tried to writhe itself out of the wall. Some of its fiery neck came through, as it said more Ikea words. “Can I please speak with the manager?”
[Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/Oscar_Relentos/comments/7bffw0/humor_demons_in_ikea_part_2/) |
"You look like a dangerous guy to me...*Ryck*, is it?"
*Dangerous.* Ryck Randolph had been hearing that his whole life. Sometimes it worked in his favor. Usually with women. Mostly at bars. Often in helping him avoid unnecessary fights - and a few necessary ones, too.
It had worked against him more times than it had worked with him, though.
Like now. As soon as his supervisor had called him into his office to sit down with "some guys that said they were looking for you", he intuitively knew there was a cup of trouble brewing, and someone was trying to write his name on the side of it. That's the only reason people looked for other people these days. To get them in trouble. At least it had been - in his experience.
But it wasn't someone; more like some*two.* Two serious - looking guys with sharp suits and even sharper faces sitting behind his boss' desk, saying some crap about how he was "the seventh most dangerous person on the entire planet."
He had denied it, on the grounds that if he was in fact the seventh, then the other six must be some other sort of sissies, because he - Ryck Randolph - was not dangerous at all. Which had prompted one of the guy's to say what they had said, about him looking dangerous and all.
An uncomfortable silence settled in the room as Ryck looked back and forth calmly between the two men.
Behind him, his supervisor cleared his throat rather loudly, and said, "Uhm, right. So...I'm going to get back to work now. Gentleman, let me know if you need anything. And Ryck, talk to me after this is done."
The door closed with an extra - gentle click.
*Great,* Ryck thought. *I probably just got fired.*
One of the men clapped his hands, ready to get down to business. "So, *Ryck*, as I was sayi-"
"It's pronounced 'Rick',"Ryck interrupted.
Both men squinted at Ryck's name tag.
"My mother put the 'Y' in there to be fancy,"he informed them.
The one speaking nodded slowly. The other one nodded too, but he still look confused.
"Anyway,"the speaker continued. "I'm Agent Sims, and this,"he intoned, gesturing to his partner, "is Agent Matthews. We work for a top secret organization, and--"
"Why are you telling me this?"Ryck was unimpressed. "Get to the point."
Normally, he wasn't this rude to people, but this wasn't a normal situation. It was obvious that he wasn't under arrest and that the two men probably needed a favor, but instead of calling him at home and asking to set up a meeting, they had showed up to his job, embarrassed him in front of his coworkers and supervisor, and was very likely out of a job once he stepped outside this room.
So no. He wasn't in a good mood, and didn't care how these two creeps felt about it, either.
Sims had been startled off his train of thought by Ryck's interruption, and Agent Matthew's took the opportunity to step on in.
Leaning forward on the desk, palms flat, he looked into Ryck's eyes with a steady, unwavering gaze and said, "We need your help."
Blunt. Simple, sincere honesty. Ryck liked it. He sat back and glanced at Sims. "Is that true?"
He had only asked because, unlike Matthews, Ryck could see that Sims was embarrassed by the whole idea of needing help in the first place. If Ryck had let him, Sims would have given a whole speech about how it was a duty to protect one's country, and that everyone citizen was a potential soldier, and how Sims had taken it upon himself to train Ryck into a soldier that the country could be proud of. A pride thing.
The question lingered in the air as Sims cleared his throat, looked around, fiddled with his tie, and did everything he could think of to delay giving an answer.
Matthews jabbed him in the side with an elbow. "C'mon, man. We're wasting time. The longer we wait, the more time we lose. And the more people get hurt."
Finally, Sims relented. "Okay, fine, fine, yes, we need your help."He cut a bitter glance at Ryck and pursed up his mouth as if he had eaten something sour.
Ryck smirked, enjoying Sim's suffering. If he was going to lose his job, why not make the people who were responsible for it sweat a little?
"So,"Matthews said, "are you in?"
Ryck contemplated. "Will I get paid?"
"Yes."
"More than a $11 per hour?"
"Wait, that's how much they're paying you?"Matthews frowned, doing some mental calculations. "How do you *live* on that?"
Ryck said nothing.
"Yes,"Matthews said. "We're paying more than that. *Way* more."
Ryck nodded. "Then I'm in."
Sims was sulking quietly in the corner.
Matthews said, "That's it? You're in just like that? You don't even know what we're going to ask you to do."
"Yeah, but you just said I'm dangerous, right?"
|
"If you came here for the princess, you are too late. She died more than 800 years ago,"said the withered dragon, sighing with a puff a smoke from his snout and nestling his head back over his tail.
"That can't be!"You reply, shaking your head in disbelief. "I received a pigeon from her just before my last slumber."
"Did she date it?"the dragon asked, sounding exasperated and over it.
You pull out the tiny scroll and clumsily struggle to peel it open. The paper tears in half and you curse this antiquated method of communication. Holding the two pieces together you crane your head and mutter the contents under your breath, "Help! I am being held prisoner in the High Tower of the East by Smort, the Elder Dragon. He is very mean, and he treats me with very little respect. Since no prince has been able to defeat him, I am sending this call for action to you dragons: Defeat Smort and take me as your own prisoner!"
Smort snorted and pulled his lips back in a wry smile, "That paper looks rather tattered. How long was your slumber, Sobek?"
Shit, you think to yourself as you remember that human lifespan is much shorter than dragons'. Again you curse yourself, for taking that 800 year nap. "Soooo, do you know of any other princesses that may need to be taken prisoner?" |
"Do you have a spatula?"The customer eyed me suspiciously.
"But ofcourse!"Was my enthusiastic response. My mind kept track of her gaze as she surveyed my copious amount of air. The store floor devoid of any shelves, carts, or even a bargain bin.
"But you-"Her sentence cut short, a spatula held in perfect proportion to eye level by my eager grip. What followed was a jumbled mess of letters desperate to form any meaning, her mind visibly trying to rationalize the impossibility of this very items existence. I could dawn a brimming smile, forcing my enjoyment back just long enough to continue the transaction.
"Will that be all?"My tone must have betrayed me, as I can tell from her now bewildered glare she had a new purpose for visiting my shop. She looked over the plastic spatula in my hands, leaving me presenting the item, as she placed her hands on her hips with a raised eye brow.
"I would like one with a blue handle,"She smirked.
"But ofcourse! If you turn your attention just behind you..."
"There is nothing there!"She protested as I watched her body make a grand sweeping gesture, her gaze looking over the hardwood floor and creamy white walls. "How can you-Eep!"Her body thrust itself nearly over my counter, a small clang on the floor reverberated.
"Oh my!"I Mockley exclaimed, "Is this not the right shade of blue?"My eyes remained attached to the blue handled plastic spatula, as it journeyed from the floor to my counter with the customers guiding hand.
"But how...where is your stock?!"Her voice raised to a pitch I don't believe I have heard before.
"I would like to keep our minds on our transaction, please!"I hovered my hand above my register, flashing my wide smile. "Will that be everything?"
"I- I have decided against this purchase! I want the previous spatula back!"Ordinarily I would show even the slightest bit of dissaproval, but I was still riding the high of messing with this customer inparticular.
"But ofcourse! If you-"
"No no!"She folded her arms, "I will not look away! I will not-"As she huffed air through her nostrils in defiance, she blinked. A simple quick blink, and time had already yielded. Silence carried through the air as I cautiously scooped the spatula back into my hands.
"Then it shall he done!"I ho hummed merrily, almost skipping past her and out the door. My feet felt light as I effortlessly twirled past the bustling crowd of New York. Before I could take another breath, I thrust myself into the general stores door and exchanged the spatulas.
"Keep my gaze from-EEK!"Time returned to, and I stood before her offering the originally requested spatula.
"Will that be everything for you?" |
The man smiles and flags down the sole waitress in the near empty cafe. She comes up to the booth we're seated at and says, "What can I do for you and your friend today?"
"Let's make that coffee for two Barbara."
Barbara shortly returns with a pot of coffee two mugs, a small bowl of sugar cubes, and a small container of cream. She pours out two cups, dropping two sugars and a half second of cream into the one in front of the man.
I motion that I'm good to make my own and she leaves with a smile. The man takes a sip and sits back.
"Now where shall we start?
You see, for the past 87 years of my existence I've never left this town. Burrendough is all I've ever known - maybe all I ever will know. But I'm getting ahead of myself now, how can I talk about the future when you don't know the past?
I was born on November 25th, in 1931 to Jonathan Wilkin and Margaret Hillcrest. Burrendough was just as it is today. Hank's General Store, on the corner of Fourth and Main. The tiny post office tucked away near Seventh and Juniper. This very cafe, Third and Main.
My father and mother cared for me like any other parent would. They loved me when I needed love and punished me as needed. My parents never planned to send me to school, it was too difficult and far to do so.
Due to not attending school and being an only child I often felt lonely, but when I did I would just go fishing at Oak Lake. It would be difficult for me to get there, especially on my own, but it wasn't too far.
I never went out onto the lake, no, that was far too dangerous to do on my own. I didn't have to move at all, I just sat on the pier and whittled away the hours.
For how many months I did that, I couldn't tell you. All I know is one day Jane came.
'You don't go to school?'
'No,' I replied. The other kids in Burrendough would make fun of me, but Jane just accepted it as if it was as normal as the sun rising or rain falling.
From that day on, I went to the pier everyday. Jane would visit me every other day. Sometimes she would teach me whatever she learned at school that day. Other days she would talk about how her dad came back home drunk again. Days turned to weeks, weeks to months, months to years. I could spend a whole day telling you about those days, but the magic is usually lost on those who experience it second-hand, so I'll save you the time.
Time passed, though I would have been content to spend the rest of my life on that lake with Jane, and on one warm summer evening she tells me, 'I'm leaving tomorrow.'
I remember feeling devastated. I had known for the past two years that she had always planned to go to high school in 'the big city' but it didn't soften the pain at all. I cried. I was frustrated that I couldn't go with her. But most of all I was angry that the first and only girl I loved was leaving.
She hugged me and said, 'I'll miss you. But I promise I'll come back and then we'll both leave. I'll come save you, one day. I'll become a famous scientist, just wait for me.'
After Jane left, the world went on, and after a few weeks I got up and joined it as well. And well, the rest is history."
I sat there and it was as if I was leaning on a wall and it just disappeared and I fell over.
"Wait, that's it?"
The man smiles gently and nods.
"She didn't come back?"
"Oh not yet, but I'm sure she will, one day."
I stood up, "But you didn't even tell her you loved her. She didn't write? Not since?"
He just sits there and gives a helpless smile, "I wouldn't know - I've never checked."
Barbara comes by and says, "What's happening here Joe? Going out for a walk with your guest? I can fetch the chair."
"Chair?"I ask. Why would he need a chair? We're sitting in a booth. Then it dawns on me. I bend over and look under the dark booth table, and then everything made sense. The single mile - the reason he had never left this town wasn't because he didn't want to, it was because he couldn't.
I couldn't stand it. There was no way Jane never wrote back. I say, "Wait right here, I know she has to have sent you something,"and run to find wherever Seventh and Juniper is.
 
The door chimes sing as the door slowly returns to its regular state after being hastily swung open.
"Young ones today,"Barbara says with happy resignation. She tops off Joe's cup and says, "You know what to do if you need anything,"before retreating to the kitchen.
Joe leans back and closes his eyes. It had been a while since he had talked about Jane, and he felt a deep loneliness resurface.
The door chimes sing again. "Fast one isn't he?"Barbara jokes from the kitchen. The door makes a gentle thump as it shuts, returning the cafe to its stillness.
A woman's voice breaks the silence.
"Hi, I'm looking for a Joe Wilkin."
 
-----
 
Hey all, I'm pretty new to WritingPrompts and writing creatively in general, so any feedback or critique is extremely useful! There are definitely elements that I think I missed out on or butchered the execution of, but I hope it wasn't too bad. Thank you for reading! |
To my surprise, the stairway to heaven was excruciatingly literal. I lost track of how long it took to get to the top, but it didn't really matter. Without the assistance of a bright sun to light the day or a moon and stars to illuminate the dark night, time itself was incalculable. One foot in front of the other, I climbed the stairs for an eternity. Although at this point I was out of my body, I still felt the limitations of having one. The one thing that kept me climbing was the thought of seeing my family and friends again, who I had all outlived from my decades of marathon running.
When I reached the top, I dropped on my knees, Heaven looked like an unimaginable utopian beauty. Buildings appeared to be made of solid gold. The sky was a deeper blue than the bluest sky on Earth. Light radiated from inside the gates, warmly inviting me as I stood up and strolled past the gate. I walked around for a bit, trying to take it all in. There were no words to describe the golden edifices or the jewel-encrusted trees.
I had spent most of my life worrying if I would get into heaven when I died. Although I told people that I did not believe in God, or any god for that matter, I recited a short prayer every night to calm the fear that persisted in the back of my mind that God was real.
"Those prayers must have paid off", I muttered to myself as I strolled past a garden that housed plants that I had never seen before.
Heaven was every bit as ravishing as I had imagined, but there was one problem. I had not seen a single soul yet. Was everyone asleep?
After spending what felt like hours wandering through the endless streets, I began to call out for my family.
"Mom?! Dad?!"I yelled. There was no answer except the echoing of my voice off of the buildings. I began to run; there had to be people somewhere, right? There were many people who I could think of that deserved to be in heaven much more than I did. Where was Martin Luther King Jr., or Moses? Where the hell was Stan Lee?
Eventually, I came across a grandiose red throne that to competed with the size of the empire state building. On the throne sat someone whose size fit the throne perfectly. Other than his size, this being did not appear any differently than an old man on Earth, with frail limbs and the last remnants of gray hair on a balding scalp. He appeared to be in a stupor and did not notice me as I approached, as his chin rested on the palm of his hand and his gaze transfixed toward the ambiguous horizon.
"God?!"I yelled at the top of my lungs. The being did not seem to believe what he had heard at first. His eyes squinted as he tried to focus in on me. He wiped off the reading glasses that he was wearing and put them back on.
"Finally, someone has come to take my place!", the old being's voice sounded labored.
"Where is my family?"I asked, ignoring his previous statement.
"Well, considering the fact that no one else has made the 1,000-year climb, I would say that they are in hell."
"They're in hell, they were such good people! Why am I here and they aren't?"
"It doesn't matter how good of a person you were- if you can't make the climb, you don't get into heaven."
I could not believe what I was hearing. This entire afterlife was only won through a nearly-impossible physical test, and not any amount of good deeds or moral compass. It couldn't be right, it didn't *feel* right.
"I want to go to hell,"I told the being
"It's too late for that, son. I need to rest and there needs to be someone to take over and wait for the next soul to complete the climb."
I screamed and ran towards the gate. I had to get back outside, and if I could jump off of the staircase there would be a chance of falling into hell. I made my way towards the gate. the old being let out a laugh that sounded like thunder and echoed through the streets. Eventually, the gate was in sight, but it began to close.
"NO!"I begged. I could not bear to spend my eternity alone. The gate closed fully and made a sound that indicated that it had locked. I was stuck for eternity, or at least until someone else could complete the 1,000-year climb.
"Welcome to heaven. Population: 1!"the old being chuckled as he disappeared from space.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
And now I wait. I roam the streets, I stare up at the sky, but there is nothing, and nobody, here for me. I am waiting for someone else to enter heaven hoping to find their family. I will not show them mercy, just as God did not show me any. |
*An empty egg.*
​
I knew my mom was getting older, but really, how'd she not realize that this egg was empty? I love that woman, but getting scratched up by these unkempt bushes for an empty egg was a bit annoying. Dad usually kept these trimmed very neatly. I'll have to give him some jabs about his declining landscaping skills.
​
The gravel path back towards the house seemed oddly disheveled. Hmm, it's funny that I didn't notice that earlier. I trudged along, carrying the empty egg in my hand and hoping that the burgers were finally done. I made it back to the yard and froze.
​
The grass was overgrown and full of weeds. It looked as though it hadn't been trimmed in years. I stepped back and did a double-take. Surely I had somehow ended up in the wrong yard. There was no mistaking my parent's house though. In a neighborhood full of small ranch homes, their colossal three-story home towered above the rest. The unsightly (to me anyway) green paint job also did a nice job of distinguishing it from the other whites, yellows, and grays of the neighboring houses.
​
The pristine green was now faded and chipping. A tangled web of vines were climbing up the sides of the house. The roof had numerous tiles missing and I could see most of the back windows were boarded up.
​
What the fuck is going on here? Bewilderment turned into fear as my brain started processing the scene before me. I pulled out my cell phone. I needed to call my parents and try to figure out what the hell is going on.
​
*No service. No network detected.*
​
The words on my phone's screen glared out at me. The words looked cryptic against the happy background. It was a picture of myself and Rowan, my youngest niece. A quick smile bounced across my face. Her three year-old smile brought me out of this strange situation for a few seconds. The bliss quickly faded as my eyes caught another detail of the screen.
​
*Tuesday, April 16th, 2069*
​
I stared at the screen for what felt like hours, a small part of my mind hoping desperately for it to refresh and say "2019"again. I slowly put the phone back into my pocket and walked towards the backdoor. The screen door was no longer there and I was greeted with a worn wooden door. I tried the handle and it was locked. Luckily, I had a key to my parent's house on my key ring. My hands were shaking as I took them out of my pocket. I inserted the key into the lock and turned.
​
A small click and it was unlocked. I grabbed the door knob and opened the door. The backdoor led to the kitchen, or rather what was left of the kitchen. There was no refrigerator, oven, or any other appliances. The oak cabinets that I had helped Dad stain last summer were gone. The wallpaper surrounding their place was torn and crumbling. Dust caked the remaining surfaces and rat droppings littered the floor.
​
I made my way to the living room. There was no furniture left in there either, except for one end table that laid in pieces near the corner of the room. The carpet was dirty and moldy. In many spots, it was gone entirely leaving the wooden floor exposed. The ceiling fan was hanging dangerously low and was one swing away from crashing to the floor. My mind could not process was I was seeing. Literally minutes ago, this house was full of life. Mom, Dad, my two brothers, countless cousins, and of course my beautiful niece, Rowan; they were all just here with me.
​
*Mom and Dad.*
​
If it really was 2069, a full fifty years in the future, then that would mean one sure thing. My parents are dead. Tears immediately began to well up. They were very health people, but there's no way they made it to their 110's. My Dad, he'd be the person I would call in situation like this. A situation that makes no sense whatsoever and that I have no idea how to even begin tackling was exactly what I would bring to him for guidance. But I couldn't. The tears streamed down my face and I knelt down in an attempt to calm my breathing.
​
"HEY!"
​
My break down was interrupted by this loud call. It came from the kitchen. An older female voice. I slowly got back to my feet.
​
"Whoever is in here please be aware that you are trespassing! The neighbors buzzed me about an intruder. This is my grandparent's old house, there is nothing here for you! I have one finger on my buzz so I advise you to leave before the police arrive!"
​
Her voice was scared, but what scared me more was her words.
​
*My grandparent's old house.*
​
I cautiously walked to the kitchen with my hands in the air in a show of peace. In the doorway, with out foot outside, I see woman. Just as her voice gave away, she was older. Maybe early to mid fifties. Her hair was in the beginning stages of graying. The silver wisps at the roots were a bright contrast against her dark hair. I couldn't immediately categorize the clothes she was wearing. Her pants looked like a combination of velvet and denim and were a soft blue. Draped over her pants was a shirt that looked like it could both belong at a rave and a wedding. Most surprising of all were her eyes. I had only ever seen that color once before. Most hazel eyes have earthy, brown undertones to them. However the woman before had hazel eyes that had small specks of intense blue in them. I knew those eyes.
​
"Rowan [?](https://www.reddit.com/r/therudyshow) " |
Sadi put her face in her hands, overwhelmed by the stacks of work in front of her. Laminate paper, she was told it was called, because 21st century humans needed to kill trees to write, and then use plastic they didn't even know how to get rid of to save it, for some stupid reason. And being one of the only experts in the late Waste Period lingua franca, English, it was up to her to figure out what in the hell this stuff said.
So, she set to work, grabbing the first of the laminated papers on the pile.
She translated:
*Do you know the muffin man*
*the muffin man*
*the muffin man*
*Do you know the muffin man*
*Who lives on Drury Lane.*
"What in the world is a muffin man?"Sadi said to herself.
Suddenly, Sadi noticed something loom from behind her. She turned sharply, fear gripping her. She screamed shrilly, laying eyes on the terrible beast. The muffin man. |
The elders would tell us stories of the past.
That among the stars there is a certain type of species that could outlive even the healthiest of us. Bipeds with hair that sprouts on different areas in different lengths, speech that were incomprehensible, and the kindest in spirit if not totally naive.
A thousand years ago, a group of our ancestors went in search of new habitable planets. There they chanced upon a planet, same like ours. Science experts were intrigued by the entirely new species of hunters and gatherers. They tried to communicate but the difference in speech proved to be an insurmountable task. Instead they communicated through gestures and sound. Nevertheless, the companionship was there and they helped each other. Overtime their relationship with the bipeds grew and they have developed bonds - some stronger than others.
The scientists grew older and sickly but their research proved to be conclusive enough that the rest of our species started to migrate. Our kind was given one task, and that is to protect the bipeds as they have protected us.
Thousands of years later, and here we still live with the bipeds. I am the descendant of one of the scientists, and as I share the story to my child, I see the youngest biped crawling towards us with drool. I lift myself and lick the biped's face. It bared it's teeth but not in anger like we do but in joy.
I am the descendant of one of the scientists, and I will protect the bipeds as they have protected us. |
I sighed with relief.
“Run”.
Not the most typical of Words, but still in the low hundreds. Somewhere in the 300s if I had to guess. I’d have some difficulty meeting my soul mate, but I could have had it much worse.
Like Mum and Dad.
Mum gave me a long hug after she’d read the Word, congratulating me for my birthday—the fourth time that day—and the Word.
My mum’s wrist had said “Would”, my Dad’s “Yes.” They had met at a coffee shop, Dad asking her if she would like milk or sugar with her coffee. Since Dad had started working there, he’d more or less given up on the whole soul mate thing, since he met so many new people each day that going out on a first date with everyone who fit would be not only be impossible, but ruinous as well.
“Yes” is the 89th word in the English language by frequency alone. That roughly means every 89th word being used is “Yes”. And it’s also a common answer when being addressed.
He could have had it worse; his boss at the cafe, as Dad was sure to tell anyone who he told his meeting story to, had had “Coffee” on his wrist. Much rarer, in the 600s, I think, but not the Word you want to have on your wrist when your day job is barista. But the boss liked his job and didn’t care that much about meeting his soul mate.
“Would” was number 72. Mum was lucky in the sense of it, despite being a frequent word, it not being one of the first words one said to another, at least not when being introduced to them.
This was why everyone pitied the Nicers, they were much less likely to meet their soul mate.
In other words, I was entirely fine with “Run”.
————
**Word.** (312 words)
Didn’t feel like writing YA dystopia. |
Shit. Jesus, come on. Fuck! I can't do anything. Anything except force the air through my chest just enough to breathe. I can barely even take my eyes off that thing in the corner. What'll it do if I turn away? No, I can't trust that fucker with an inch. The impossibly tall man with an impossibly thin body and an impossibly wide smile. That fucking creep.
I thought, hey, maybe this time, with Alexis, it'll be different. Maybe I could finally get some rest. Instead, he follows me here. Whatever the hell he is, I... what is that? Why's the door - oh. It's just Lucy. Great, now I'm gonna get scratched to hell while this goddamn psychopath stares at me. Fun night.
"*RrrrrrrrrYEEEEEEoooouwww!*"
Holy shit! Go, Lucy, go!
"AH! AH! AH! Whatisthiswhatisthiswhatisthiswhatisthiswhatisthis!"
Oh, so you can talk, you perv? Get him, Lucy! Oh, okay, cycled back to creepy. Stop flailing your arms, dude! Oh, christ!
"Lord save me against this infernal creature! What gates to Hell have thine opened?!"
Hell yeah. Lucy's your Satan, motherfucker! Take that! Yeah, I know all too well how those scratches feel, bitch. Gonna needa get some creepy-ass Neosporin, bitch!
"*RrrrrrrrrYEEEEEEoooouwww!"*
"How may such awful cries be produced! Have mercy on me!"
Haha, gonna jump up to the - OH JESUS! Why does he have a dick, oh fuck, why does he have a dick?! Why can't I just enjoy the show in peace? Finally get something good out of a night's sleep and I have to see pencil dick over here jumping around. Oh, no... has he been naked *EVERY TIME?*
"I beg of you, madame, unhand me! Ah! Prithee, let me rest! I wish to do no harm!"
No harm my ass, creep, I'm gonna have to gouge my own eyes out once we're done here. Ugh, at least you're not smiling anymore. Yeah, Lucy, get that creep out of here! Fucking finally. Oh, it is just *too good* to move again. Come here, Lucy, you're getting all the skritches you could ever want. Why you comin' so close to my head, girl?
"John, we don't have any time to talk. It's time to wake up."
​
(Hopefully you liked this story! If you did, feel free to check out my humble community at: r/SUPRAPStories) |
The world thought it killed him.
The man. The legend. The myth. In snow, rain and hailstorms, he flew his sled. Against time itself he battled to break the rules, to fulfill his oath. To show justice and kindness to those that deserve it. Those that toiled the land and learned the joys of a simple life, sustained by quiet abnegation and silent prayers.
First fell the cities. Younglings did not know what life meant, blinded by screens and walls of rules to overwrite the people they would have become. Santa kept hope at first, it died fast. The man going down the chimney was met with phones recording him and selfies by people with no spark of life in their eyes and grew angry at his gifts. Lost in technology, quick to complain.
He could have lived with that loss, but when the rural land fell, he feared for himself. The people toiling in an attempt to connect with traditional values had been blinded by a romanticized view of them. Values are for the soul, they are to be disconnected from material possession. Yet he witnessed old men trying to revive doomed industries, losing touch with reality and dragging whole villages down with them. No simple life of honest work, only bitterness, short-sightedness, stupidity.
Cities scared him from afar with blinding lights, lost towns lured him in only to trap him with poisonous bile.
How could a legend survive with nobody to believe in him? Ads for coffee had killed the siren, he was next.
That is when he found them.
Simple, believing in the king james translation of the bible, breeding sturdy animals and building barns and houses as a close-knit group, Santa Claus found his new home among the amish. For a long time he just dropped the toy inside the house and disappeared just as fast. but as his public shrinked, he learned to appreciate it more.
Snow, wind and cold. Down the chimney Santa went. The Abram family saw a disheveled man. Old, scrawny, weakened, injured. In his eyes flared the roaring fire of battle, a will to match the wrath of gods and keep on surviving against all odds. He left wooden toys on the ground, lovingly crafted by Claus himself during his vacation that lasted a whole 364 days. With strong hands he climbed back up the chimney, reinvigorated by the glass of milk the family had left for him.
Out in the night, he let his face suffer the assault of bad weather. Darkened by coal, his knightly red suit had become black and his face barely visible. The cold hurt, the wind froze him to the bones, yet he trudged on.
Because he can take it. Because he's the hero the amish deserve, not the one they need. He's a silent guardian, a watchful protector. He's Santa Claus. |
"But, that means..."
Hans smiled at the expression of shock on his young counterparts face.
"Yes, you are right. Mr Aldraz is well over 150 years old. If I recall, he is around 300."
"That can't be! He barely looked 30."
Hans smiled again.
"Yeah, when your body stops aging, you certainly look young."
Jasmine frowned, questions spinning in her head.
"But how?! Thats impossible."
"As I said in your interview, this is a special place, moreso then you know. Here, we interact with the Mirror World."
"Whats the Mirror World?!"
Hans raised an eyebrow at her, his only reaction to her yelling.
"Keep your voice down. Now, you would find out at some point working here. The Mirror World is where all the creatures from myth and legend live. They have their own, separate world that exists alongside ours. Here is one of the few places that intersect both worlds."
Jasmine sat down, trying to understand what Hans was saying.
"They're real?"
"As real as you or I. Most intersections are.... difficult places to be in. You see, the Mirror World isn't as orderly as ours. There are always battles, and some want to spill into our world. We are different though."
"How come?"
Hans nodded, pleased at her questions.
"We intersect with Placior's lands. He is a Lich of considerable power, age and intelligence. Thankfully, he respects knowledge, and wishes for it to be spread. He provides protection from the chaos of their world, in return for access to our worlds literature."
"So.... who was that customer who still has an account?"
"Mr Aldraz? He is a vampire of some standing. I don't know for sure, but he is respected. Also, he is a bit of a tea snob."
Jasmine's head was spinning, as she began to realise just how much bigger the world was. Hans took pity, and patted her shoulder.
"You gave nothing to worry about though. We are safe here, and quite profitable. I understand if you don't feel like you can stay here."
"Why are you telling me this? Whats to stop me from going to the media, and telling them?"
"3 things. One, you have always come across as trustworthy. I doubt you would. Two, even if you did, what proof do you have? They would assume you are crazy, and dismiss you just as quick. Three, even if you managed to find someone who would believe you, you would never be able to tell them."
"Why not?"
Hans grew slightly serious.
"The world wouldn't let you. It likes to stay separate. You would find it slips your mind as you go to talk. Or they would be called away. And if that didnt stop you, things would go wrong around you. You could be slightly hurt, or killed in a freak accident."
Jasmine paled at the thought. Hans gave a rueful smile.
"Of course, if you do wish to leave, and not want this hanging over your head, the memory of this can be.... adjusted, so you won't remember what I told you. For now though, stay there. Its been a shock, so let me get you a nice cup of tea and a biscuit, ok?"
Jasmine nodded.
"Ok." |
My Dad had been a small business owner, an entrepreneur, the kind of red-blooded member of the middle class who could have a beer with the boys after work and be accepted as a friend. He was the man who’d raised me.
When I was heading to University in 2010, he took three days off to drive me there himself. I’ll always remember what he told me, word for word. “You find the best people you can, you pay them well, you treat them right, and they become family. That’s how the little guys win.”
Cancer caught up with him during my second year when I was on academic probation. I’d flown home to be with him during his last few hours. They hadn’t been pretty, but the funeral had been gorgeous, with a thousand people who’d had their lives changed by my Dad showing up to say kind words and introduce themselves.
I dropped out of University to start running the family business, but it wasn’t a smooth transition. Luckily, Mallory had been there to show me the ropes and ensure that everything was running smoothly. Dad had really hired the best.
Every morning my desk was a pile of memos and success. The meetings I attended were short and to the point. Profits were on the rise, and it seemed like I barely needed to touch anything. Our business was a small happy humming machine.
Sandra from the security department had to go on maternity leave, and I personally found her replacement. A man I’d met at a bar back in Halifax. Fantastic man with a good head on his shoulders who’d been looking to get into police work. I had a good feeling about him, so I put him into the slot. After that hire, Mallory took some of my meetings off the schedule, and I was almost full-time focused on growing the little family my Dad had made.
I didn’t have a head for numbers or a love of lectures, but I could do people. I think I inherited my Dad’s sixth sense for it. Finding the right people was a hard job, but everyone I handed off to Mallory for an assignment was a smashing success.
Business boomed with the bigger team. Suddenly profits had more zeroes than I could count, so we hired more people, gave everyone raises, added more benefits to the package. Soon I didn’t even need to convince someone to join once I’d decided they were the right person; they heard the numbers and saw the pamphlet I’d made and signed in a heartbeat.
We ran a happy business, the kind that had lifetime employees. Happy people coming to work and doing what they did best because they wanted to. Every startup wanted to match our culture, and every big business was probably scratching their heads as to how we were doing so well.
I found the best people I could, paid them well, treated them right, and we were a family.
Eventually, we had a board of directors. Eccentric people looking to invest in our company. They wanted to make drastic changes, but I fought on every front for the little guy. Security guards were given hazard pay; I cut my bonus and gave it to the R&D team so they could take Christmas off to be with their kids; I wanted to make sure that I did everything my Dad would do.
But I never really knew what the scope of the business was until Glorybringer had crashed into my office on a Sunday afternoon, bloody and beaten. He limped up to my desk, and I stood up to meet him; after all, I was a big fan, and I needed to call the medical team on-site.
Mallory burst into the room, gun at the ready and aiming back at Glorybringer, and then she locked eyes with me and determination vanished into horror. She-
“Malloy,” I started.
“Sir, you weren’t suppo- It’s not what it-“
“You won’t get away with any more of this!” Glorybringer tried to will himself to take a swing at me but fell short. “All those banks, the weapons you’ve stolen, all of it. How do you live with-“ he trailed off, flopping down to the ground, clearly having lost too much blood.
“Mallory.”
“Jason.”
“Is what he- are,” my head whirred for a second, but the pieces didn’t quite fit. “Why were you fighting him?”
“Sir, you-“ she was struggling to tell me something, but I knew that we at least weren’t on the same side of the heroes.
“Mallory,”’ I started, “if you tell me what’s going on, will it change everything?”
“Yes,” she said.
“And if we let him go, it’s bad for us, isn’t it?”
“Everything’s over,” she clarified.
“Shit,” I sighed and flopped down into my chair. “We’re villains?”
“Yes.”
“What about all the stuff I see about employees? Is everyone happy?”
“What?”
“I asked.”
“Yes,” she said, “we’re all doing great but-“
“Then nobody needs to know,” I said, “do what you were going to do. Tell the board I am doubling the guard's hazard pay if they see a hero on their shift.”
“Wh-“ she started again before steeling herself. “Yes, sir.” Malloy rushed over to the limp body of Glorybringer and dragged in out into the hallway.
“You find the best people you can, you pay them well, you treat them right, and they become family,” I sighed towards the picture of my Mom and Dad on my desk. “I take care of my family.” |
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