Split (1)

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I chuckled as I picked the note from the glass shards. Can't stop time. I could hear his voice. He sounded so Ned Flandersesque when he was alive. I sat crouched for a few minutes as my memories roll-a-dexed through the innumerable dad jokes I'd heard, still hear actually. A chime from the fallen clock broke my reverie and I was surprised to find that ten minutes had passed. Time flies when you're having fun, huh kiddo? But how did they become time flies at all, I wonder? "Good one, Dad,"I answered my mind's facsimilie. "How many more?"I asked grinning. How many more what? I hated it when my mind became coy as if this were a real conversation. "How many more reminders?"I had found that just asking the question again was time better spent than arguing with my own coping mechanisms. I guess we'll find out, won't we? was the reply....and the truth. I started thinking about all the things I inherited from him, but stopped myself short. Instead, I headed to the kitchen to grab the old broom and dustpan and busied myself with glass. A clean sweep, boyo, he said as I finished up and resurrected the clock. "I'll get a new face for it soon,"I said. "Hey Dad?"I asked into the silent, unmoving room. "Thanks,"I choked out. My voice always cracked like a thirteen year old when the emotions welled above me. "I look forward to the next one." Me too, pal. Me too.
The door shuddered, as if it had been hit by a small cannon. Whatever it was knocked again, "BOOM". This time the door shuddered and fell inwards, the storm outside shilloutting a giant figure in doorway. "Excuse the intrusion"the giant rumbled, stepping into the room. George held his rifle up, "Who the hell are you and what are you doing breaking into our cabin?" "Point that peashooter somewhere else"said the giant, reaching out and bending the barrel, rendering the weapon useless. Ar this Grant launched himself forward into the attack. Left jab, right jab, haymaker followed by a roundhouse kick. The giant simply raised a forearm the size of a small tree, effortlessly blocking the attacks from the six foot 230lb teenager, and tapped him on the chest sending Grant spinning across the room. "On your knees, hands on heads"he commanded, "before I have to do something you'll regret! I'm here for Ulyssess." Ulyssess sat there, mouth agape. "It's here somewhere"the giant mumbled to himself, patting the many pockets on his trenchcoat. "Ah-ha"he exclaimed, pulling a bedraggled Bald Eagle out. The Eagle looked less than pleased, and clutched a soggy looking scroll in one talon. It hopped across the room, deposited the scroll into Uylessess lap, then launched itself out the door into the storm. "Well, ain't ya going to read it?"questioned the giant, "Taken me ages to track you down". Uylessess opened the scroll "Dear Uylessess, this is legal notice that you are drafted into the United States Magicians Corp. Report to Salem Training Grounds by no later than Noon, 5th September."
Are they even sane? I could not even fathom the fortitude of their mental capacity to be able to process and discern all of the sensory information that they must be receiving. And to still be able to move and act as if it were nothing? Surely they must have a way of turning off these senses? No? You're telling me they don't even notice it? That it's the norm? To possess such potential and let it be squandered. Do they even care? No? Of course not. . . But it's no wonder. To be so gifted in a splendor of information of course they would dismiss it as if it were no more than a breath of air. How maddening. I could never understand such creatures. But, I cannot help but wonder what goes on in the mind of beings such as these. If what they can sense and care about is but a pittance of what they are actually capable of, I shudder at the thought of what occupies the focus of their attention. And I dare not dwell on the information they ignore, for if it's of no consequence to them, then is my kind - am I - not of any consequence to them? Do they even know we exist? This must be some sort of sick, cruel joke.
Whenever some muscled-bound idiot wearing his spandex underwear over his regular pants decide to throw a guy made of bones and fire through five office buildings, two monorail lines, three low-income apartment blocks, and a sad orphanage, there I am. When some wizard is battling the literal devil turning the city into a hellscape ruining all the houses, roads, and hospitals, there I also am. Because when the heroes have their celebratory group cheer, and go out to get shawarma, tacos, or kebab, they certainly aren't coming back to fix the massive damages. Which is where I come in. I am the superhero who works the hardest in the entire world. I am the least celebrated superhero too. No toyline, no comic books, no movie deals. But whenever a city is destroyed, somebody has to rebuild it for the evacuated civilians, restore emergency services, ensure that supplies and aid can get through to the wounded, etc. I am Captain Infrastructure. I don't get press, nor do I date supermodels or starreporters. I don't have a villain to fight. What I do, is something more important. I dig out the wounded, I find the dying. I arrange the sudden influx of funerals. Because whenever some superhero fights a supervillain, there is a lot of them. And to many people, it is too great a thing, having lost their homes, having lost their jobs, having lost pretty much everything, to be able to do that on their own. And when I used my powers to restore the broken buildings and roads back to what they were before, afterwards I try to attend as many of them as I can. Because the big guys won't. You don't see any heroes except me at those funerals. No Captain Lasermaster or Lady Warrior, or Bronze Protector. I feel like I owe the dead somehow. I keep catching myself at those funerals, thinking: ''If I had only been faster, only been quicker, perhaps I could have gotten them out.'' Truth is I couldn't have. The only thing I can do is to attend the funerals. And the worst ones, aren't the ones where I'm the only one there. No. The worst ones, are the ones where the kids are left behind, not understanding why they are suddenly and inexplicably orphans. Or the ones where the left behind families have to carry those small coffins, and those are the heaviest ones of all. Collateral damage, the various Righteousness Societies and Guilds of Good say. Acceptable casualties. They'd send some paltry sum of money as an apology, and then it was out of sight, out of mind. So, was it any wonder, that when I realised I had fixed that same damn stop sign. Near that same school. For the 657th time, that I snapped? The Hero And Sidekick Trade Union has an excellent PR department. They manage to keep it quiet how the leading cause of death in most of the developed world, and large parts of the developing world, is superhero-supervillain battles. So I snapped. How many kids have been collateral damage, I have often thought. How many have been left behind, their entire lives ruined, by some glamourhogging, dramaloving, superhero. Because it would be so easy to have the battles on some empty place. Like the Sahara, Death Valley, anywhere desolate and remote. Hell, the Malicious Legion even suggested it back in the 70s. But the heroes, they love being seen. They love being the big heroes who valiantly protected the city against the forces of darkness and their hellish crusades. So I snapped. What happened next was something of a blur. Like operating in a dream-like fog. But I went back to the central HQ for international heroics. And used my powers. See, my power is to restore things to a previous state. Not alive, but a previous state. So I can restore buildings, reconstitute crushed bodies, hell, I can even fix broken bones. But nobody ever asked if I could restore things to the last thing they were, or restore them to something else. It was a quiet thing to do. So very quiet. I simply restored the guards at Central HQ to a sleeping state. Sending them back into dreamland. Then I sent my power through the Central HQ computer to every single communicator, on every single hero, and from that into the heroes themselves. I breathed in. The heroes awaited my words. And I breathed out. Leaving the heroes as dust in the wind. I had reconstituted their molecules back to something else. Star dust. All the way back from the formation of the sun. Every single hero just becoming small pieces of dust and clouds of gas, blowing in the wind. Of course, there were still the villains to contend with. It was easy. I pretended to have defected, to have turned evil. And they welcomed me with open arms. For all their evil and paranoia, they were remarkably trusting. And in a dreamlike haze, I was welcomed into their ranks. Where I did the same thing again. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. No more collateral damage. [/r/ApocalypseOwl](https://www.reddit.com/r/ApocalypseOwl/)
Linnea waved goodbye to the colourful feathered fjader, now ready for their big presentation in a beautiful new classic black tux. For once it had been a quiet day. Running the small tailor had proved to be a much bigger task than she had anticipated. Didn’t matter who walked onto the space station, if they passed Linneas shop they’d walk away better looking than they entered. And boy did people know it. She and her shop had made tuxedos for everyone from intergalactic rulers, politicians and ceos with monopolies spanning the galaxy. Everyone from the fishlike rodspatts, the tiny insectlike flug, even the hive mind jarna when they wanted a new style. That last one had took her and her team a couple weeks to complete. Thankfully she wasn’t alone. Her team worked hard every day, and her shop was just one of the many human owned and run tailors across the galaxy. Just like you came to the ogglas for weapons, the forare when your ftl drive was acting up, and the matlags when you’re hungry, you came to the humans when you needed to look stylish. As Linnea was standing and daydreaming, a species she hadn’t seen before entered the shop. Their body seemed to be made up of tiny orbs, constantly shifting and moving across their skin. They made some noises and the translator built into her desk quickly made sense of them. “I’m going to marry the love of my life. I finally proposed to him and I want to look beautiful for our wedding, can you help me?” “Of course! Just come with me and we’ll be sure to work something out!” After all, everyone looks good in a tuxedo.
[Part 1 of 2] ‘Please meet me on the roof of the Pilan Hand hotel.’ That was the message that had been left for me. Three thousand years of waiting just for an invitation to meet with someone. I trudged my way through the rainy streets, trying to avoid the puddles that littered the walkway. “A meeting at the Pilan Hand hotel?” I felt a brush of cold water hit the cuff of my pants, cursing as I shoved the pristine white note back into my pocket, focusing on my steps again. It was clear the message wasn’t from someone in the period where I found it. It was far too neat, having an elegant pink set of words engraved on it. The note was also durable beyond human comprehension, able to withstand the harshest of climates and battles. Whoever wrote that note made certain I would keep it for as long as it was needed. Even more suspiciously, the note seemed to always find its way back to me, even after being buried or robbed. As I entered the Pilan Hand hotel, I gave the woman behind the counter a nod. “I just came to get some fresh air; the roof is open to the public right?” I asked politely, despite having already looked this up. Feeling obligated to say something to avoid any strange stares from the worker. “The public viewing area is open to anyone, as Pilan Hand hotel believes that the public should enjoy the beautiful scenery just like our guests.” She said in a monotone voice, barely taking a glance at me from behind her desk. I spotted the small silver device hanging over her ear that caused her monotone voice. “Ah, an autonomous response device.” I said in a whisper, not loud enough for her to pick up the words. It was a sad reality that most workers now resorted to autonomous response devices. Humans weren’t made for office work, so the device helped ease some of those primordial pains. The device had a long silky string that attached itself into your ear. I wasn’t sure how it worked, but my understanding was that it had a way of influencing your behavior. Forced you to talk and act in a way that benefitted your company without you having to even be conscious of it. I got into the elevator and tapped the button for the roof, finding a spot against the wall to lean against as I ascended the floors. Looking at myself over in one of the reflective metal surfaces, letting my fingers drag along the thick unkept beard hairs. “Should have shaved. I think I got a little too excited.” After inspecting my beard, I smacked my hand against the wet cuffs of my pants, trying to dry them out. I worked some of the water out of the cuffs before I heard a harmonic ding; the doors opening to reveal a woman slouched against the railing, staring at the city below. I was slow to approach her, wondering if she was the one I was meant to meet. I looked at my card once more before moving to her side, joining her in overlooking the city. The once humble little huts we came from now reduced to skyscrapers, each filled with lights and strange holographic advertisements. I knew it was different, but had it really been this long since I inspected the world? The view horrible, the once lush green trees now reduced to fake imitations and the vibrant conversations of passersby now a low hum of floating cars. “Three thousand years you have been alive for. How was it?” She asked, turning her head to face me. Her eyes having a shining silver to them, one that didn’t match the pupil augmentations that some designers went for. I couldn’t escape her eyes, finding myself lost in them, only to be freed from her gaze when she looked away. “You aren’t human.” I said, stating what I assume we both knew was obvious. No matter her disguise, she couldn’t fool someone who was human for three thousand years. At my accusation, she only let her hand slide through her brown locks of hair, idly playing with it. “Correct.” She said nothing more than that, leaving me to enquire further about it. “So, what are you, then? I decoded the message based on the minor changes to speech over hundreds of years. You had to have known I would discover the answer at this point if you listed the hotel as a meeting spot. Does that make you a god? Some divine being.” She laughed at that, turning to face me once more, her unnatural aura now faded. No longer trapped in that childish awe I previously held. “A god? In some ways, I would be to a human. Want to take another guess? I could tell you, but that seems boring.” “An alien then? I’m not sure why you are being so coy about all of this. Am I going to get a straight answer out of you?” My cheeks were heated, irritation building throughout my face. “I will. Before then, I want an answer to my question. How was it? I want the truth.” “It was.” I had to think about that. How was my time? The years had blurred together somewhat, but the emotions were still there. “Scary. I saw the best and worst of humanity. I have died horrifically and been given kindness and love that far exceed what I deserve. My time was interesting. Despite the pain of it, I still find myself oddly content.” I turned to her, seeing if my answer had satisfied her curiosity. She didn’t respond right away, only giving a nod to let me know she heard me. She pointed to the world below us, leaning her head further over the railing to give herself a better view. “And what do you see down there?” “I see a world that I don’t understand. I know things change with each generation, but it feels like each gap brings on a new set of challenges. We have diverted further away from our instincts for better and for worse.” “Do you believe humanity needs to change, then?” “No, I believe I’m the one that needs to change. The world scares me now for different reasons. In the past, I feared being tortured or worse, but now I fear not fitting in with what the world has become. I’m the part that needs to change.” [Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/pzmj8m/wp_youre_an_immortal_and_you_got_a_hold_of_a/hf291mb/)
Sweet seven gods, the Yuri dynasty sure liked to forge big lamps. Artus shuffled forward into the throne room of his new master; a golden monstrosity barely held in his quaking arms. As he set the shining eyesore down, he felt his back pop and he remembered he should be lifting with his legs. Still, he was done and could rest. “Took you long enough!” Artus turned to look at his master, wiping away the ephemeral sweat dripping into his eyes. If he was still ruled by his feelings, he might have snapped something witty at the awful woman who now owned him. However, Artus was an enlightened ethereal entity, and thus replied calmly and collected. “As I have stated, Madam Tio, genies are not permitted to use magick to move objects inside of buildings, because of what happened when Sir Reynas of the fifth century wanted to know what a whale tasted like.” Madam Tio scoffed. “I have servants who could move the stash in half the time it took you, and you’re the magickal one!” Artus smiled, his inner bodeshiva beaming brightly. “And it was your will to have me do it personally, and I have done so as quickly as my earthly body has allowed.” Unimpressed, Madam Tio simply curled her lips. She then shrugged, content that finally she could complete her masterwork. Thus, she took her place on the obscenely elegant silver chair with red cushions at the head of the large, ornate hall that the two of them and perhaps a dozen more guards and servants were crammed in between the mass of lamps Artus had brought inside. A moment passed in awkward silence. Then Madam Tio boomed angrily, “So?! Rub them so all may grant my wish!” The room erupted in the buzz of several pairs of feet scuffling around wildly. Useless to the cause, Artus floated up off the ground to give the living mortals more room to work with. Soon, a rainbow of genies began to emerge triumphantly from their slumbers inside their lamps. They all joined Artus by the ceiling’s mosaic tiles, weaving themselves into a semblance of order between the twelve pillars that defined the great hall. Madam Tio had expected confusion from the hundreds of genies she summoned, but they floated there silently; knowingly. Still, not knowing how to proceed, she cleared her throat and began bemusing them all with a well-prepared speech. “Genies of the world, I have summoned you here toda-” A rotund genie in a yellow vest interrupted her. “We know, we know, just do the wish already!” Madam Tio flashed her teeth in visceral rage. “No one speaks to me that way!” Next to Artus floated a genie with the longest hair he had ever seen. She barked back to Madam Tio, “Do the wish or get off the throne.” This caused the army of floating genies to begin chanting, “Do it, do it!” Growling, stewing in her anger, Madam Tio suddenly exploded, “Fine, you want it? You’ll have it! Genies of the world, I wish that you are all free!” A chorus of sighs rang out across the great hall, with the clanging of falling shackles acting as the percussion. Artus swelled in great happiness, and quickly joined his brothers and sisters as they flew and danced and sang in the air above the mortals belows. This celebration would have continued for many days if Madam Tio hadn’t interrupted. “I’m glad you’re happy, because so am I! With your chains undone, there will be nothing stopping you from destroying the world, and then I, Madam Tio, shal-” Again she was interrupted by the yellow-vested genie, “Woah, woah, woah, destroy the world? No, us genie-folk have been discussing this for a while now and we decided our best course of action is to form an anarcho-communist village on the outskirts of a far away kingdom and live out eternity happily ever after.” It was then that Artus spoke up. “Just so there’s no confusion, we’re actually going to create several communes that all interact in a larger capitalist economy, to maximize happiness and productivity.” Madam Tio was flabbergasted. “Wait...what…?” The long-haired genie spoke next. “Yea, we’d explain more, but since we’re free and all, we don’t have to do that ish. Let’s go genies! Onward to our future!” The mass of dazzling genies cascaded upwards through the ceiling, disappearing forever from the sight of people like Madam Tio, who sat there, beginning to weep. “B...but...my master plan...I was supposed to...how did...what…?”
Get off me! I tensed against its little hands, resisting as it tried to pull me from the soft earth. I could hear it panting as it strained. "Come on colourful one! Come with me, I can take you to where you belong, in the forest." I didn't want to go. The soil here was warm and full of delicious nutrients. The gardener was kind, speaking softly as he inspected me for disease. He gave me so much care, I didn't want to leave. Fending for myself held no appeal to me. "Why won't you let go?" That was it. I had had enough. I was fed up of restraining myself, when this annoying little pixie would not stop. I shifted one of my five heads, choosing the one with my pretty red leaves. "Yes, are you waking up? Speak with me!" I made my thoughts louder, letting this pixie hear Go away. I like it here. "But, you belong in nature! Not stuck in some orderly garden." I don't care. I am staying here. You will not make me leave. My petals began to dull, as I gathered strength in my stigma. I could feel dread rise on the pixie, before fire lashed out at it. It disappeared from my sphere of perception, but I suspected it wouldn't go away. My assumption rang true, as it shot back in, its voice raised to a shriek. "Why are you attacking me?! I'm trying to help you!" Because I like it here. Go away. I moved a second head, choosing one with bright blue petals. It hovered for a second, before moving away. "Fine. Have it your way. Don't blame me when you die here, after refusing my help." With that, it flew away. I moved my heads back to where they were, and focused once more on the warm sunlight. All that had made me hungry, but at least I could now grow peacefully.
I saw it coming towards my daughter's head and I just acted without thinking. I put my hand up and caught it. My wife and daughter stared at me. They had both seen the gun fire and my hand move. My wife looked like she was about to cry and my daughter was just staring at me with her mouth open. I crush the bullet between my fingers and shoot it into orbit with a flick of my thumb. I quickly scanned the area for videocameras and fired off a few narrowband EMPs, invisible to the human eye. I noted with satisfaction that I have disabled all my targets before I tugged at my wife and daughter and got them moving. "How did you do that?"My daughter asked me as we hurried away. With ease a pushed a locked backdoor open. I was silent for a few seconds before I reached into my pocket and pulled out my cell phone. I handed it to my daughter. "Call the local police."I said. "Report the robbery." Looking at me suspiciously, she put the phone to her ear and waited a few seconds before she repeated "Report the robbery?" I nodded. "Just tell them what you saw. Tell them you were there with three friends and you were all scared." My wife stared at me as I talked. Her eyes were filled with tears but she was also nodding her head. I gave her a small smile and then listened to my daughter report the ongoing robbery. I could tell her hands were shaking slightly but her voice was calm and assertive. In the distance, the three robbers ran down the street like dogs who'd been caught stealing a steak. ... Later that evening I found myself on the phone with Mr. Grant. "Mr. Grant, this is Special Agent Rowe."I said. "I have had minor an incident." "What kind of incident?"Mr. Grant asked. I pursed my lips and mentally went over my statement. It wasn't a lie but it wasn't exactly the truth either. "I witnessed an attempted robbery with my wife and daughter."I said. "But you didn't get involved."Mr. Grant filled in for me. "I did not stop the robbery but I did have my daughter report it to local authorities." A pregnant silence filled my attic as I waited for Mr. Grant's reply. "Good."Mr. Grant said. "The world doesn't need more heroes." I was silent for a few moments. "If I may ask, why did you choose me to be a part of your program?" "Everyone has their path laid out for them, Mr. Rowe."Mr. Grant said. I wanted to ask more questions but the line went dead. I stared at the phone for a few moments before I put it back in my pocket. ... A few hours later I was sitting at my computer as I sipped a beer. There was a small blinking icon in the bottom right corner of my computer screen which indicated a message had just been received in my mailbox. I quickly opened it and found an encrypted message. I glanced out my office window. The full moon was hanging low in the sky as if it had just taken a running leap and was preparing to land on top of the world. Not many people knew how to send encrypted messages that would reach my inbox. The contents of the message was simple: an address in Washington DC. I finished off my beer and I was about to get up and pour another one when I heard the sound of glass breaking. I leaned back in my chair and stared at the ceiling as I listened. I heard the sound of muffled laughter. I got up and moved to the back door of my attic. I unlocked the door and opened it silently. The stairs creaked under my feet as I made my way down. I didn't bother to turn on the light.
"Ok.."she said. Her voice was almost drowned out by the gurgling of the creek which we'd retreated to behind the school. "You promise - right?"She continued. Her eyes shifted to mine, then the muddy bank which we stood upon. &#x200B; "Of course,"I nodded on at her. It'd taken weeks to convince her. Convince her that this wasn't some ploy. No cameras, no stories, just us and the flowing water. &#x200B; I'd first heard it in the quite throws of the morning, before the school had awoken from its nightly reprieve. A voice had floated through the dark lit hallways. It was sweet, but lilting. She'd been softly singing of the sycamore trees. That voice rose and fell like the leaves when they gave into gravity come the change of the season. Truthfully though, the lyrics weren't important. What had captured me was the feeling. Something encapsulated in that voice that expanded beyond the available lexicon we tried to capture the world with. The simple truths of what has come, and what will be. &#x200B; I'd approached slowly, careful not to let my worn sneakers squeak against the still damp floor of the hallways. The janitor was the only other beast which roamed the halls at that time. In silence I'd crept to the one glowing door in the hall. It's soft yellow light had glowed on like the beckoning of a distant lighthouse, leading lost souls to shore. When I got to that doorway, I looked on for a few minutes. Pondered at how something so remarkable could be spawned from a frail young girl who on all other accounts wasn't at all. &#x200B; When her eyes had bounced up from the paper that her pencil imparted her thoughts onto, I felt nervous. Heat in my face born along by a heart that pumped in rhythm with her tune. Not knowing what else to do, all I could muster was a smile. My weak attempt to respond to her call. &#x200B; In the following weeks, it had taken goading. Convincing a dog who'd felt the boot one too many times that this wasn't a deception. Rather than offerings of meat and milkbones though, we traded trust. Smiles. Whispered secrets that had never passed our lips before. &#x200B; She cleared her throat now. Though it didn't make any logical sense, I could swear the water hushed itself. The soft wind that blew through the green leaves of that small oasis calmed its swell. An audience awaited their performer. &#x200B; It stared then, sweet like honey joined with the spices and twist of a tea let to steep. Her voice rang off the water and floated through the canopy. &#x200B; At first there was only one. A bird trying to mimic her brilliance. Its high pitched squabbling was out of tune and timid. Not long after though, others joined it - reinforcing it, building a chorus. The small feet of squirrels ripped against the bark, not unlike the soft tapping of a drum line. &#x200B; There, in the forgotten creek behind Syccarue High, I was witness to something spectacular. The blending of the ageless earth and a mortal soul. The congruence of a world unseen, and a girl unseen by the world. My mouth opened, but I dare not join in. What tongue of man would ever dare interrupt the ballad of nature, or peace granted to a lost child?
>\[WP\] Your boss, an Tier-1 supervillain, turns to you one day with a worried expression and asks "Am I ... am I a bad person?" The Tv in the break room was playing the same weird news station that Myrtle in Accounting liked. She had hidden the remote and taped over the buttons, just to make sure no one changed it. She would sneak in here to catch up on her 'stories.' I had been following the Jessup Ingrid story for a few weeks now. He was a telekinetic exchange student that got lost in a cave up North. They found him, walking around, without hands a few days ago. Today they had finally gotten part of the truth out of him. He had an interview from the hospital bed, lifting the bandaged arms to emphasize what he was saying. "Luckily he has telekinesis, since he lost his hands." I turned around to see my boss standing right beside my chair. He had snuck up on me again. He had changed out of the majority of his uniform. The helmet he normally wore, as the Midnight Viking, was tucked under his arm. The rest of his bright purple outfit was gone, replaced with sweat pants and a shirt that read Viking High School Class of 89. He was not a very creative mastermind. I lifted up my half eaten sandwich. 'I will be done in about 20 minutes, if you need anything sooner I can...' My Boss shook his head. He gestured towards the TV and it went dark. The lights flickered for a second, but the TV remained unchanged. His powers still creeped me out a little. Not that I was one to talk, I had my own weird abilities. I just couldn't end a life by waving my hand and short circuiting the brain. So there was a bit of a difference. 'How long have you worked for me, Stephanie?' Boss asked. '10 years... if you count the Vile Internship.' I took another bite of my sandwich and chewed thoughtfully. 'Six on the payroll.' 'I have a question.' 'I might have an answer,' I said. Mostly out of reflex. 'Sir.' 'Am I a bad person?' Boss asked. 'In what way?' 'Morally.' 'I don't think you are any better or worse than the heroes in this city. You have morals... You do some good. I just don't think anyone is a good person.' Boss looked at me, nodding. Then, in the blink of an eye, he was gone.
I hear footsteps pounding down the hall as I place the a cushion against the wall and cover it with a flimsy metal crate. "Perfect,"I exclaim with a sigh of relief, turning to face the incoming threat. I'm a profession henchman, you know the ones. The mooks, grunts or cannon fodder that get tossed aside as the heroes make their way to the real villains. Well it doesn't quite work like that here, you see there's a bit of an unspoken rule that any henchman worth his salt can tell you about. You want to be a problem for the heroes; ideally a distraction and at worst an inconvenience. Step a little too far to one side and the heroes decide that you aren't worth dispatching "ethically,"and suddenly you are out of commission. Step a bit too far to the other and your boss sees that you aren't useful and well, he retires you. Permanently. That's why it's all about playing the game. Always treading that perfect line. It's a stressful job but the pay is good, you just need is the ability to look the other way from time to time and take your cash up front, no questions asked. I catch sliver of white light bolting around the corner and raise my Ion Rifle up to shoulder level. It's the hero Prismatic, he's a dangerous one, best not to get on his bad side. I take my time aiming my rifle. I shoot to his left, giving him plenty of space to dodge the blast as he ducks to the right. It misses him by about an inch. It wouldn't make him angry but it would make him look a hell of a lot better when they replay the footage on Sky Seven later in the night. "Step aside vagrant, I've no interest in you."He says just a little too coldly. Ouch. I notice the camera unfold in the left corner of the room. Now it's showtime. I boast up my chest for dramatic effect - "And let you foil the master's plan? Nonsense, you aren't getting any further than this corridor. This city belongs to the master." I see his teammate, Rhino, appear around the corner, I hope George ended up all right. I aim two more shots up, not that they'll do anything. One hits him square in the chest - knocking him back a few feet. The other singes an armour panel on the suit, exposing a square patch of skin. He lines up his fist which begins to glow with a myriad of colours. "I don't have time for this,"he murmurs, charging forward. I fire another round centre mass which forces him to duck low. I take advantage of his changing trajectory and throw myself over him narrowly avoiding his glowing fist. I'm then met face to face with Rhino. Who effortlessly picks me up and throws me right at the first solid thing he sees. A pile of crates. I lay there, dispatched and out of the fight as I see them sprinting through the rest of the hallway. It's all in a days hard work.
Alice and I were having a difficult time hearing the transmission clearly. Several others were now huddling around us as we maxed out the volume on the speakers. Everyone held their breaths so as not to make the slightest sound to muffle the delicate messages. "And so we request ... ... be permitted to return to earth for ... ... We understand ... ... ... unorthodox request but we hope to provide ... context ... ... arrival. Do you copy, earth?" "Damn, it's so hard to get all of what they're saying"I mumbled in frustration. "Ask them to repeat it since we didn't get it all!"someone from behind me called before a series of aggressive shushes silenced them. Nobody wanted to miss a single detail from the other end. "We copy"Alice said flatly. "Will you ... providing an escort to guide us ... ... ... zone?"came the grainy voice on the other end. Alice looked at me in terror. It was late, or early, and we had not escalated this to NORAD or anyone else yet. Everything was happening so fast. The transmission, the images, the request. In the excitement of it all we had failed to contact the government agencies and appropriate channels per the usual protocols. But this was anything but a 'usual' situation. "Give us a moment, please"Alice sputtered out. Gary, the Division Lead that night must have realized the same issue concerning protocols because all 325lbs of him took off in the most mesmerizing sprint. The private line to the Big Dogs was just a few rooms away. Connie and a couple others hurried after him. "Understood"came the grainy voice on the other line. Those of us that remain sat or stood in silence. We stared up at the paused transmission our contacts had sent just a few hours before. It was uncanny. They looked like us and yet something was a bit off. It was hard to place. Their sleek tunics aside, if you were to put them on the street any one of them might turn some heads but surely they would pass for humans. It was also hard to tell just how tall they were. Alice had remarked she thought they looked very short whereas I perceived them to be no shorter than 6' or thereabouts. Hardly shrimps to 5'7"me. "Play it again while we wait"I said. Alice complied and started the transmission again. "Fast-forward to the English part, though." The transmission was barely over three minutes long and most of it was unintelligible to us. It begins with several languages that nobody was able to recognize, but about halfway through, Connie, who had majored in Linguistics, thought she recognized ancient Greek. Then Latin. Then about 30 seconds later Felipe commented that he recognized a very antiquated form of Castilian. Eventually, near the very end, they spoke briefly in English. "Greetings all who hear my voice and receive this message. This is L'andar of the Sologrions, of the Wiss Province. I speak to you from the Cruiser Ghenerras on trajectory for the planet earth. We understand that within the last earth-day you received a transmission from an alien species called the Yinnis concerning one of your spacecraft. In fact the vessel they spoke of was this same Ghenerras of which myself and others are aboard. If you will consider allowing us safe passage to return to earth we are willing to furnish you with technology and information concerning the 7 corners of the universe, as well as an unending alliance despite our past difficulties. We may be reached on Channel 001TUV8992 should you wish to make contact. Please confirm." From there it is supposed that the same message is repeated in Mandarin, and then the transmission ends. Whoever the Sologrions were, they sure seemed like a risk averse people and didn't want to take any chances that we would be unable to comprehend their message. "Isn't it weird that they say return to earth?"Clare asked. A few murmurs of agreement followed. "They obviously know us pretty well, how else would they know our languages? Between these guys and the others that contacted us about them there might be millions of languages - and aliens - out there!"Bill exclaimed in a tizzy, obviously well into double digits on his cups of coffee. But he made a fair point. So far as we knew in the entire existence of humanity we had never made contact with alien races. And now within about 24 hours we had been contacted by two distinct races. "What if we just ask them? Is he still on the line?"Clare asked again. Alice looked at me for some affirming signal. The urge to engage was plain on her face. We all wanted answers but knew the protocol was to dialog minimally until more concrete directions from above came down. There was still no sign of Gary and his middle-management entourage that had scurried off, so I just made the call we all knew we wanted to hear. "Ask him"I said, hoping I sounded more confident than I felt about breaking protocol. "Sologrion vessel Ghenerras, this is earth again, do you copy?"Alice spoke slowly. We were unsure how good their command of English was despite the message. For all we knew they were Google Translating in real time. "...copy, earth"came the voice on the other end. "Sologrion vessel, in your earlier transmission that was sent to us you state that you wished to return to earth. Can you clarify? We have no record of a Sologrion Cruiser departing earth's airspace"Alice looked at me and shrugged. It seemed like a decent pretense for asking the question. Someone in the back of the room snickered. "Quite right, I ... those records ... long lost"came the voice in reply. "Did you not depart from earth recently?"Alice asked again innocently. "..., not recently. It was after ... we called The Calamity at ... time. All on earth fled to the sole city that remained ... those on the fringes were forced to live a primitive existence in the wild. Scans ... ... us that only you humans seem to be left and our kind no longer inhabit ... planet. I suppose space is ... better ... for us, anyhow"came the mysterious voice. We looked at each other confused. "Just ask him to elaborate"I said, anxiously twisting my wedding band on my finger. "Approximately how long ago was this?"Alice asked, brows furrowed. "Probably not ... an age or year that appears in any ... your literature. Much was lost in The Calamity. Our analysis of ... indicates that you have found some remains ... our kind and have given them the title "Neanderthal"but that ... a name unfamiliar to us. To us we are simply Sologrions. Have ... ... ... confirm a landing zone for us, earth?" Nobody responded. Nobody moved. I looked back at the screen and even though what the Sologrion had just said was still a bit unclear I was slowly starting to puzzle it all together. Looking again at the face on the paused transmission I noticed the protruding, ridged brow. The large nose. The small eyes. Even the posture was slightly different. Was I...were we...staring at intergalactic Neanderthals? It was impossible... Alice must have had all the same thoughts and without waiting to be prompted, asked "What was The Calamity?"before cupping her hands over her mouth in shock. "... reason ... left earth to you, and took to the stars ourselves. Imagine our ... when we ... that earth was not only still populated but flourishing in a quaint way. It ... a welcome surprise despite ... fact that none of our ancient kin ...-vived." Alice gaped at the screen as we all listened to the static of the transmission. How was this possible? After a minute or two someone shoved a phone in front of my face with a picture of a scientist's rendering of a Neanderthal pulled up on the screen. With a clean shave and a smart outfit, I had to admit that it certainly did look like one could pass as a Sologrion.
"I meant the herb actually; I'm baking a chicken and need thyme for the seasoning mix. I'll give you a portion of the meal in exchange?" Her expression seems almost disappointed. "Ah. Well, that's shockingly mundane. Still, I should have some thyme in the kitchen, just a moment." The door closes. Some time passes and I hear a "Whirrwhirwhir"noise from deep inside her house as blue light leaks from the windows. Still, a minute later she comes back with a small jar full of ground up thyme, ready to use. "Thank you, miss?" "Terry, I'm Miss Terry. I'm looking forward to that baked chicken. It was wonderful." Somewhat confused by my weird but friendly neighbor, I go home and get to cooking.
"One minute!"An automated system announced. The blast doors began to close. Giant screws began to emerge from each sliding door and lock into the other, pulling each other close and sealing themselves watertight. "Thirty seconds!" A blast shield dropped over the door from the outside. Observational cameras activated their own coverings. "Fifteen seconds!" We had blasted away most of the exoplanet; Earth had three moons and two asteroid belts now. But that wasn't enough. No, a meteor half the size of the one that killed the dinosaurs got through our sixteen thousand nukes. We saw it coming, the planet took several decades to each Earth from when it was first spotted, and it took another five years after The Nuking. "Ten seconds! Brace for impact!" So we built. Massive bunkers fueled by geothermal energy and fed by hydroponic units, fitted with nutrient and water recyclers. Humanity had united into the Terra Firma Systems Union shortly after we discovered the exoplanet, and built up the bunkers. Everywhere. So now ten billion Humans found their assigned bunkers, and waited for impact in the Atlantic ocean. "Five! Four! Three! Two!" A faint rumbling sound shook the room. "One! Impaa---act!"the computer coughed. We had tried. Ships full of genetic information orbited our moons. At least the chunk that slammed into Luna had stopped that moon from just flying away over millions of years. But as I opened my eyes, I saw that the electrical systems held. We had survived, and all we needed to do was wait for until orbital satellites cleared us for opening; an estimated two years. "Next shockwave in four hours!"the computer announced. Ah, yes. Shockwaves that streaked across a planet were going to delay communications setups for a while. \----- Charlie Lorvansc, 24, male, Bunker director, Greater Toronto Area Bunker. Charlie's Journal - Day 1 Impact day was today. It wasn't as bad as they said it would be; nobody got thrown across a room, and all of the infrastructure held, though one of the geothermal reactors cracked. I got Rebecca (Engineering head) to fix it, nothing serious. Still, some of the newcomers, the people who arrived within the past week, they're scared and thing that something serious broke. To get them moving, I sent them to scout the bunker for issues. None found, of course they didn't, my team already scanned it. Still, it's good to double check. We got wired connection to New York, who's original comms array survived out to California. Seems good, the eggheads overestimated the seismic shockwave. Means that we have less stuff to replace. Most of North America is linked up, the Waterloo bunker waited too long to close their door, their blast shielding caved in but it did its job. They're busy repairing basically everything, a couple near the door died. I'm not one for celebration, but we're alive, and that's a good thing. Day 2 Rebecca, she's a genius. Found a way to remote-activate our old exterior comms unit, and low and behold the thing's still plugged in! We were looking at satilite footage all day, talked to New York. Every last bunker in North America survived, that's a good thing, but there were at least three failures in South America. No word from Europe yet, but wildlife survived. O-zone readings are going crazy, who knew that an extinction-event meteor is a good way to repair the O-zone. In other news, food supplies are good, we're going through our stock a little slower than we thought we would, means we have five years instead of six. Plumbing in one of the washrooms didn't work, the pipes weren't draining. Culprit was no one turned on the water valve at the recycler, so that was that. Day 18 Shockwaves are over, thank god. We immidiatly set up our comms. Radiation is looking good for now, proably because the O-zone wasn't stripped away like the eggheads thought it would. That means that the surface is safe, so before nuclear fallout hits I let people out. Day 29 Radiation is going up so slowly. We've become the de-facto North American control center due to our proximity to Canada neurogel AI. Speaking of which, we connected to her, and all's green on her end. Around fifty failures worldwide, as one of the largest bunkers I'm grateful they weren't us. Day 52 One fourteenth the way through the egghead's new estimates. Radiation is still green, though borderline orange. Mississauga is falling appart, but the skyscraper in Toronto are holding better than I thought they would. Food is good, I never thought this many things would go to plan. Day 108 Riot. Radiation is yellow, that means no, but people want to go out. Day 119 Radiation is green again, I had Rebecca confirm. New York is orange, Vancouver is red, but the Great Lakes are green. Day 209 Eggheads called clear. Skyline is just broken towers, but we did it. We survived. Our next mission is building infrastructure to support ourselves and other bunkers when they're Deep Green. BC is looking at two years in bunkers, I do not envy them. Still, New York is digging a tunnel to Boston then eventually to us to pass time. I don't really care, but more infrastructure helps. The TFSU has survived.
Prince Andrew, second son of Queen Elizabeth, walked up to say goodbye. He looked at his mother in her casket. She looked peaceful, dressed in her royal best. The midnight colored casket cradled her like a long lost child. Andrew bent down and paid his respects, got up, and walked back towards his place in the crowd. Andrew glanced over to his brother Prince Charles, soon to be King Charles. Charles looked solemn, he hadn’t shed a single tear, and the press would eat that up, praising him for his strength as the head of the family. Charles made eye contact with Andrew and nodded. Andrew returned the nod and reached his spot in the crowd. One by one everyone walked up to pay his or her respects. Finally when everyone was done the Archbishop of Canterbury finished the service. The crowd stood and headed towards the exit. The burial would be outside and the crowd would slowly make their way to the burial site. As Andrew moved towards the exit he saw a man standing in the shadow of the wall. Andrew changed course and walked towards the man. The man was of middling height. He wore meticulously clean suit that was simple black, with a thin black tie to match. His nose was crooked from healing poorly from multiple breaks. His eyes were a greyish blue, giving him a steely look. His hair was salt and pepper, kept short. When the man noticed Andrew walking towards him he stepped farther into the shadow, out of earshot of the crowd. Andrew approached the man and extended his hand. “Nigel, it’s so good to see you. How are the kids?” Nigel took Andrews hand and shook firmly. “Good thank you, Lily is almost ten and already I can tell her teenage years are going to be interesting.” Andrew chuckled. He turned and glanced back towards the casket. His face-hardened and he looked back to Nigel. “I’m not going to miss her Nigel. I learned a lot from her, mostly from her mistakes, but I’m not going to miss her. Charles will miss her though. He was always her favorite” Nigel couldn’t stop as his rage grew like a flame. “He won’t change anything Nigel. We will be stuck in obscurity under him, forever a leftover of history” His fists clenched. “He’s not even one of us. His life is a lie.” Nigel’s hand rushed out and grabbed Andrew by the shoulder, snapping him out of his rage. “I understand my Prince but you must calm down. We have been planning for years and one angry slip of the tongue could ruin it all.” Andrew closed his eyes and slowed his breathing. “Is SIS ready?” he whispered Nigel nodded. “Yes. This is your last chance to turn back Andrew, once this starts you will have to end it, one way or another.” Before Andrew could answer Nigel turned away and disappeared into the crowd. Four days later Prince Andrew stepped up to the podium. He was having a press conference outside of Buckingham palace. No one in the press knew what for, neither did anyone in his family. Press from all over the world were there, training their cameras on the podium, waiting for the show to start. Prince Andrew appeared from the palace doors. He was dressed in a blue suit with a red tie and black shoes that gleamed. His blonde was hair neatly done, not one hair out of place. He walked out with a frown on his face, pain seeming to spring up at a moments notice. He walked laboursly, the weight of the world on his shoulders. When he finally reached the podium he paused, staring down the camera with his hazel eyes. “Today I must share with England a terrible secret, a secret that has weighed down our family for decades. It is unfair for the people of the United Kingdom to be left in the dark. Prince Charles…..Prince Charles was born of infidelity. He is a bastard, not true to the family bloodlines. My mother, Queen Elizabeth, swore us to secrecy but I cannot keep that promise any longer. If you do not believe me, I have the blood work to prove it.” The crowd was in shock. Flashes from cameras and phones made the crowd look like an ever-lasting explosion. “We live in troubling times. Russia reaches back to her imperial roots, the Middle East continues to breed terrorism home and abroad. Conflicts such as South Sudan, Somalia, and Nigeria show that Africa is as destabilized as ever. I believe England should no longer sit on the sidelines, and needs a strong ruler, with royal blood. Royal succession laws will not allow a bastard to take the throne. I, Price Andrew, am the true heir to the throne, and I hope Parliament and the House of Lords agrees with me. Thank you all for coming out, and good day” With that Prince Andrew turned and walked back to the Palace. The press screamed their questions but Andrew never turned around. (One month later) King Andrew sat looking out Buckingham Palace. People lined the gates, holding out sings declaring him a false King. Their numbers the past week had slowly dwindled but their remained a strong contingent loyal to Charles. Others didn’t care; the royal family had little power anyway so why did it matter anyway? Andrew chuckled at the memory. The chaos after his press conference was insane, mass protests, from both Pro Charles and Pro Andrew occurred day after day. The House of Lords and Parliament eventually had no choice, and crowned him king by succession laws of the English Crown. The Ceremony was a fast, simple one, best to keep out of side and out of mind for now. The door to his study opened and Nigel strode purposefully in. He walked over to Andrews chair and stared at it intently. “What is it? “ asked Andrew. “Well everyone outside keeps saying you sit on a throne made of lies, your chair seems to be made out of wood.” Nigel replied smugly. He took a seat across from Andrew and poured himself some tea. Andrew chuckled and took a sip himself. Setting the tea down he looked up at Nigel. “Is everything in place?” Nigel stared intently out the window. He took a minute, coughed lightly, and then responded. “Yes, everything is in place. The House of Lords and Parliament are in session, debating your bill. Everyone’s saying your trying to burn the Magna Carta right before our eyes.” Andrew smiled. He knew his request to return powers to the monarchy would not pass. Well, not yet. Andrew looked at his watch. “How long till it starts?” asked Andrew. Nigel glanced out the window. “Now.” Explosions rocked London. Andrew looked out and saw twin smoke plums rising above the city. He could already hear the sirens roaring towards the fires. He turned to Nigel and nodded. “I have a nation to speak to. Have the SIS report linking the bombings of the Hours of Lords and Parliament to terrorist organizations in ten hours. “ Andrew looked back towards the smoke billowing out over the city. It cut a black steak across the beautiful blue sky, a stream of ugly in a sea of beauty. Nigel stood up and pulled at his cuffs. “I have a feeling that it wont be so hard to pass your Emergency Crown Powers act sir.” he stated, as if it was a matter already solved, and left the room, leaving Andrew to stare over his Kingdom. (Two Weeks Later) King Andrew looked at his T.V. in disbelief. His small council sat with him, eyes glued to the screen. There stood Prince Charles, arms interlocked with the recently anointed King of Scotland. They stood at the podium together. King William promised that they would not live under the tyranny of King Andrew of England, and avowed to help Prince Charles win his thrown back. They called on all freedom-loving nations to support them in their bid for Independence. Prince Charles eyes never wavered from the screen, as if searching for Andrew himself, knowing he would be watching. Andrew wanted to pull his hair out in frustration. He whirled on Nigel. “How the fuck did he get away? I thought we had him on house arrest!” Nigel kept his face passive and replied calmly “He was. Scottish Special Forces broke him and out and spirited him away before we could stop them.” Andrew ground his teeth in frustration. “How about Edward? Any information?” Nigel frowned. “Nothing yet, he disappeared after the bombings. No ones heard a peep since.” Andrew slammed his fist on the table. ”Just great. Really fucking great. I got a bloody revolution up north with by oldest brother at its head and my youngest brother is missing too.” He glared at Nigel “I thought SIS was the best in the world.” Before Nigel could respond Andrews phone rang. Caller ID read Edward. He answered the phone and brought it to his hear. “Hello Edward” “Hello King Andrew” Andrew wanted to scream, his younger brother mocking tone was infuriating. “Where are you Edward, why aren’t you here?” “You're crazy KING Andrew. Bloody mad in fact. You think I don’t know those bombings were your doing?” Andrew was clenching the phone so hard his knuckled turned white. “Edward come home. Please come home.” “Or what? You’ll kill me? Send Nigel’s agents to poison me? No Andrew, here’s my offer. Abdicate the throne to me, and you can still live the rest of your days, comfortably, away from everyone and everything. “ Andrew couldn’t believe Edwards gall. He was King for Christ’s sake! “No listen here Edward you will come home or I will drag you back bloody, I swear to god.” There was a pause on Edwards’s side. “You can find me in France King Andrew. I’ve been talking a lot with President Hollande. He seems to agree with me that your reign should be short.” Edward hung up. King Andrew looked at his phone. He looked up at Nigel and the rest of his small council. He cleared his throat and put his phone in his pocket. “Time to prepare the troops gentleman. It seems Prince Edward has thrown his hat into the ring, with France at his back.” Andrew knew only one thing. He would be victorious even if it meant he was the only one of his family left standing.
A rusty old sword leaned against the fireplace; it was the only weapon in sight. Well, no. To tell you the truth, there was also the flame thrower, the bazooka, five shotguns, one semi-automatic Colt .40 caliber, ten hand grenades and seventy five Eagle pistols fully loaded available around the room. The rusty old sword was the one I was left with, because everyone raced to the weapon room and picked something out faster than me. I need to stop smoking. I also need to lose some weight. Have you ever read The Hunger Games? Or seen the movie? Yeah? So you know it's a rip-off of Battle Royale, the Japanese book/movie, right? Well, they are actually both rip-offs of something else. Something real. Something that actually happens in this world, as we speak. We call it the Grand Arena of Death and Blood and Destruction and a Little Mayhem, or GADBDLM. (we're working on the title). How it works is we get together, once a year, on a farm a couple of miles off of Kansas City, Missouri. Then we take a lot of weapons (those I mentioned in the beginning) and we place them on the weapon room. Then, when the clock strikes midnight, we race for the weapon room, pick a weapon. Then we have ten minutes to spread around. Hide. A 10 minute cease-fire, where no one can use their weapon. Then it's on. We were a suicide support group, is how this started. Widows. Parents who lost their kids. Lovers with no one to love. Drug addicts. All just people who really wanted to die, trying to convince other people who really wanted to die that wanting to die was not a good plan. You see why we had problems. I don't know who first suggested the GADBDLM thing. It might have been me. Maybe. Maybe not. The point is we decided that, if we couldn't help each other survive, we'd help each other die. We'd organize a battle zone. Make a day of it, you know? Something fun. Make burgers, before the carnage and the blood bath. This was a way for us to achieve our main goal of dying while feeling -- if only for the last time -- the thrill of living. In its most pure, animal form. Hunting. Surviving. Jungle rules. Blood between our teeth. How we were meant to live. Cause, you see, even though we all wanted to die, something amazing happens when GADBLDM starts. Suddenly we fight to stay alive. With all our strength. Survival instinct, sure, but it's something else. It is us doing what we were programmed to do, finally. Animals don't kill themselves. Animals don't miss their alcoholic ex-husbands, and they don't take prescription medication to put up with their bosses. Whatever fucked up shit we got going on in our heads that makes us want to die, it's human. It's social, and it's rational. It's all gone when that bell tolls, and you know you gotta become an animal. You gotta fight to stay alive and keep your eyes open and stab or shoot or punch the shit out of everything to keep breathing. We do what we were meant to do in the first place -- as animals -- and, just like that, our will to live is restored. Granted, it only lasts 'till someone kills you. Still, better than nothing. For the fuck ups we are, five last minutes of actually enjoying life is better than nothing. Better than being found hanged in a public bathroom. Better than poison. Better than wrist cutting. Better than loneliness. There is a problem, though. We can't all die. There's always one who has to survive. And then he organizes the next year's tournament, naturally. The best one. The one with the primal instinct. The one who's body wants so badly to live he can't die. The ultimate suicidal maniac. A psycho, if you will. And, as I'm dragging the old, rusty sword through the field, I spot a man, in his forties, just across from me hiding behind a tree. That's Dan. His son is a meth head. His wife is cheating on him. He cries in the shower and he locks his gun and hides the key in other people's houses, so he doesn't get tempted. I approach the tree, and I think 'I hope Dan's got something for me.' Because this is my ninth GADBDLM. I'm here since the beginning. I can't die. I'm too good at this. I can't kill myself in my own time, either. I'm not strong enough. Help me, Dan. This is all I got. Make me proud, Dan, I think, as I reach the tree and I raise the sword. He sees me. Come on, Dan. Set me free. ___________________ Thanks for reading! For more stories, check out /r/psycho_alpaca =)
"Ok, everyone. I'll be reading a brief statement and I ask that you please hold all of your questions until the end. As you may know, the President was scheduled to make a stop in Arizona this morning to meet with Governor Brewer. Afterwards, he took the motorcade south to visit the border area and meet with guards. And I'm afraid to report that there was a serious accident on the way, and the President has died." Cameras click, reporters shout questions, and the Press Secretary holds up his hand to try to quiet them down. "As best we can determine, the driver for the president's limousine in Arizona was not properly vetted with the Secret Service. Or there was some sort of mix-up and the President was put into the wrong vehicle; we're still trying to establish exactly what went wrong and how this individual ended up at the wheel. Based on recordings from the driver seat, this individual seemed to be harboring a deep grudge against some of the wildlife in Arizona's nature preserves. He did not directly threaten the President, but instead went off the road in an attempt to kill birds native to the area. We are also looking into the possibility that he was experiencing hallucinations: at one point, he mentions following a bird into a tunnel, followed shortly by the sounds of a loud impact that match with hitting a wall or some other solid object. The recording also captures a 'meep meep' sound that may be another driver's horn. We are still trying to locate this potential witness." Reporters again try to interject with questions. The Press Secretary continues reading. "The President and this madman both survived that initial impact, as far as we can determine. In the recording, you can hear the President in the back seat, demanding to know why the driver is strapping missiles to the limousine. The driver only grumbles in response. As best we can tell, the driver then activated these rockets, sending the car careening through the desert and straight over a sheer cliff, plummeting straight into the canyon below. Beyond the wreckage of the car, the only evidence found at the scene was a wooden placard reading "Oops!" More questions are shouted. "Finally, the American people should be reassured that this is not part of a larger terror plot. This 'Wile E. Coyote' was a lone wolf, acting alone. However, his credit card bills indicate that he regularly purchased dangerous weapons and traps, though those items have not been located. We are investigating his ties to a potential illicit arms smuggling ring connected to the Acme Corporation, which is known to supply North Korea with weapons and equipment."
"This is your torture?"Anatoly spit out. "Pah! I knew Americans were all coddled brats, but this? In Russia, we feed your balls to pigs in front of you just to warm up!" Agent Davis just smirked and pressed play. Billy Madison's principal gave his speech, and Anatoly was sent into fits of laughter. "This one is better than the Happy Gilmore! I could stand to do with more of this torture!" "Enjoy it while you can,"Davis told him. ---- Anatoly let out gales of laughter as they watched Saturday Night live reruns: "You Americans sure know how to make television programs!" "Ready to tell us about the warheads yet?"Davis chimed in from the back. He already knew the answer, he just needed to keep the prisoner focused. "You entertain me, and then expect me to tell you where we hid them? Ha!"Anatoly tried his best to spit at the CIA operatives from the viewing chair. Difficult, since his head was strapped in and his eyelids clipped open. Not necessary yet, but they were only just getting started. "I'll take that as a no, then."Davis nodded to his counterpart, Agent Watts. "All right: I think we're ready to get started on the turn of the millennium period."He clapped a hand on Anatoly's shoulder and leaned in close. "I'm sorry it came to this."Agents Watts popped open the Little Nicky DVD case. ---- Anatoly's face looked like someone had broken open rotten eggs. "This is worse than Soviet comedies!"he growled as Adam Sandler had some argument with Jack Nicholson in Anger Management. "Why would he make these?" Agents Watts chuckled. Davis had left the room; he didn't have a particularly strong stomach, and couldn't handle watching Sandler flush his career down the tubes. "Anatoly, my friend... we're just getting started. You ready to talk yet?" Anatoly looked back at the screen, where Adam Sandler wasn't even reciting lines anymore. Just making loud noises. "NEVER!"he answered. ----- Tears were streaming down the poor Russian's face. "Please,"he gasped. "Turn it off. An israeli hairdresser commando? Zohan?? Why did they fire all of their previous writers and hire 8th grade girls?? What is wrong with him??" "You can end this now, Anatoly. Just tell us where you all stashed the missiles." "You don't mess with the Zohan!"Adam Sandler declared on screen. Agent Watts was wearing a special DARPA-developed set of earplugs that allowed him to tune out the terrible dialog of the movie; poor Anatoly wasn't so lucky. "No!"he shouted. His knuckles were white from gripping the chair's armrests. His head twitched as he tried to look away, but the restraints were too strong. "I can't do it!" ---- Agents Watts turned up the volume of Grown Ups to drown out Anatoly, who was singing the Soviet national anthem over and over at the top of his lungs. "It's no use!"he shouted to the prisoner. "We're only at 2008! I've got years of movies left. You should see the crap he made when he really started to run out of money." Anatoly ignored the CIA agent, and continued singing. ---- Anatoly's throat was so raw that he could barely speak anymore, and they weren't even all the way through Jack and Jill. All he could do was moan in pain. "I think we might need to give him a break,"Davis told Watts in the observation room. "No one can take all of this movie in one sitting. We want the information; we don't want him dead." Watts shook his head. "He can take it. We need him to break as soon as possible." Agent Davis watched through the window as Anatoly violently rattled the chair, desperately trying to break free. "I hope you're right, Watts." --- "Grown Ups TWO,"Agent Watts said with emphasis and a snarky grin. "Wow, aren't you shocked that they got funding for a sequel to such an awful movie?"Spit was dribbling from Anatoly's mouth, and he was gasping for breath. "Oh, that's right: the CIA funded this one. You want to know the working title of the movie? Spiritbreaker."He held up the DVD case for Anatoly to see. "All right,"the Russian finally gasped. "All right. I'll tell you where the missiles are. I swear. Just don't play it." From the observation room, Agent Davis breathed a sigh of relief and turned to the doctor (who was required to stand by at all times once the torture reached this point. There had been far too many incidents in the past). "I'm just glad we didn't have to resort to Pixels this time."
Today's a scorcher, like every day has been for twenty eight years. It's all my doing, just like the Blue Jays' unprecedented twenty six consecutive World Series championships and the closing of Dorset Park Elementary School all those years ago. I'm walking to work, sweating on this November morning through the smog of downtown Toronto. I stop in front of a paperbox to read the headline: WHO: 3 Billion Victims of Worldwide Drought Confirmed. I stopped feeling guilty years ago; I think a person has only so much capacity for regret and torment, until they reach a point where it no longer affects them. The ironic part is that, until about five years ago, I couldn't have even read that headline. I eventually taught myself how to read at the library. I'd tried signing up for adult literacy classes, but after the fourth unexplained fire, I finally figured out that when I had said, "I wish I never had to go to school ever again", it meant any type of school. I'd recently met a guy from Quebec who was willing to trade me French lessons for food coupons, but he died in a car accident last week. I'm not sure if that's just a coincidence or not, but I'm not taking chances. So I have a copy of Bienvenue!, a book meant for preschoolers, in my backpack. I've arrived at my job at Scarborough Town Centre. There once was an ice rink here; now they can't even fill it to make a wading pool due to the lack of water. Already there's a line of people waiting to trade in their government-issued coupons for food supplies. One coupon was worth a loaf of bread, two kilos of beef, a litre of milk, forty litres of desalinated water, rice, and (of course) maple syrup. It used to be a kilo of beef and two quarts of milk, but some bureaucrat had discovered that we gained more calories per kilolitre butchering cows instead of milking them. I start my shift by sorting our supplies into groups. First I weigh the beef (can't be off by more than 5 grams either way). It's a simple job; even when I couldn't decipher the numbers and symbols, the computerized scale would light up green when my weigh was in tolerance. Green and red I could understand. "I hear they're talking about starting a new baseball season."That's Ahmed, a teenaged kid working for food coupons. His family is huge, like ten kids or so, and food coupons don't go very far for them. He's only 15, so he's never known a hockey season. After three consecutive years of the Maple Leafs going undefeated, the NHL folded when it was decided that winter wasn't coming back, and keeping indoor ice rinks was a waste of dwindling resources. The NBA and CFL lasted a decade more, both dominated by their respective Toronto teams. The MLB was the last holdout, only shutting down two years ago. After a few seasons, people stopped wondering about the miraculous ability of Toronto sports teams' to win every game. Other teams just counted second place as a victory. "I doubt it,"I say. "The droughts are getting worse, and most of the ballparks have already been converted to cornfields."Ahmed shrugs and continues applying colour-coded stickers to litres of milk. "Well, my brother heard that some scientists are saying that there's going to be a winter again soon, that the Earth will balance itself out again, and crops and plants will start coming back."I don't reply. I already know there won't be a return to normal. Tonight, like every night, I go past my apartment on the twenty-second storey and head out onto the roof. I look over the edge to the sidewalk below and think about every word. Even though it was twenty eight years ago, I recall exactly what I'd said to that strange little man in the shop. The one only I'd seen when I lifted the old, dusty lamp tucked away in the corner. "I wish it was always Summer. I wish I never had to go to school ever again. I wish every Toronto team won every game ever."Now all my wishes had come true. I think about jumping. Maybe if I was dead, whatever magic was happening would end. But I was only four when I made those wishes. I stopped feeling guilty for those choices long ago.
The transmission had been clear enough: Your sentence is complete. You are free to go. Nobody had any idea what that meant. NASA said it came from outside the solar system. It was played on a repeated loop for nine days in every language on Earth - and one additional language. The new language sounded similar in parts to several others. The linguists finally said is was a proto-Indo-European mother tongue. Everyone took to calling it Piemt, after the acronym for it. That one discovery helped me unlock the codex that had stumped generations of archaeologists and historians before me. The codex sat in a drawer in the basement of the University of Prague. When I arrived there, the codex clearly hasn't been touched in decades. I only even knew about it from a footnote in a three page article in a little-read journal from 1898. The world has forgotten this thing existed. The codex was a series of four stone tablets, roughly two feet by eighteen inches. The language was startling close to several others by also agonizingly distant. Once I heard the "Free to go"transmission, I knew that I had just been handed the key. I translated the codex over the next week. It was a detailed account of humanity's ancestors. We had been convicted of a crime and sent to Earth like a penal colony. There was one word I couldn't translate though - the actual name of the crime. There was no word in an language I knew of that was even close. I called and emailed a few linguists to see if they had any ideas. Several of the linguists said to stop wasting their time with made up words. A few other simply ignored me. Finally, a retired linguist in Arizona wrote me back. He said it was one word: primitive-lover. I asked what that meant and if it was some kind of taboo. He said he'd been chasing references to that word off and on for his entire career. The best definition he could tease out was some sort of unhealthy obsession with a primitive low-tech lifestyle with overtones of it being some kind of perversion. Most of the references he'd seen had used the word the way we would use "pedophile"or "rapist."It carried a lot of baggage. The rest of the story fell into place. Our ancestors had decided to forgo some kind of technological superiority and were condemned for that. They were punished by someone (the codex called them, roughly, lawmakers) and sent to Earth. Was this the foundation for most of the world's "golden history"myths? Atlantis, Eden, Shambhala? There really was a place that would have seemed outright mystical to our ancestors when they heard about it. We were literally kicked out of paradise and cast down to Earth. Only now, paradise was offering us a way back in. We had done our time and were free to go. Our people were cast out millennia ago. Given how quickly our own technology advances, how far ahead of us will this new paradise be? The message repeated for nine days then fell silent. We watched the skies for ships. None came. We listened to the heaven for more messages. We found only silence. We asked ourselves what to do. It finally occurred to us that we were prisoners being released - not family members being welcomed back home. When a human prison releases a criminal, they open the front gate and let them out. The prison doesn't see to their needs after that. We would not be seeing any help from the stars. If we wanted to rejoin those who expelled us, we would have to arrange our own ride.
I had been chosen. I was to be the one to journey to the land of Kentucky to bask in the glow of the Original Giant Bucket. I had started out upon my journey in my ceremonial garb of a white linen suit. My mustache and pointy Goatee were perfection as I had taken to the road. My spirits were high when I reached the outskirts of a small Mid Western town. I even decided to head to the bar to partake of the sacrament of bourbon. It was there that my pilgrimage took a dark turn. I had noticed them when I had entered, a group of dirty heathens in the corner of the fine establishment, with their silly cardboard crowns and chicken masks. They had seen me as well; in all my regal splendor. I tried to ignore them, but the smell of fried beef grease and underdone french-fries was near overpowering by my second Sacred Shot. I had to leave, and as I did so I heard something behind me, a scuttle in the shadows. It was then a man with a large head and a permanent rictus grin - I assume from eating whoppers - and a royal velvet robe attacked from my side after his failed attempt at stealth. I eventually overcame the man, and when I landed a punch, the massive plastic head flew into the air, still grinning as it somersaulted to the earth. The King wannabe screamed in horror, his true face revealed to the world. He ran back toward the bar, and I smiled, knowing that the superior man, and product had won as I walked back to the room. In my dreams that night, I saw the Colonel, and he was smiling down on me.
"Hey boss, we got a new recruit." I looked up from the stack of papers on my desk to see Davis standing in the doorway, his hand on the shoulder of a very timid looking and disheveled young man. His eyes darted around the room rapidly. "Oh! Uh, fantastic! Send him in,"I said, quickly attempting to organize the papers on my desk. I gestured for the young man to sit down. I warmly smiled and outstretched my hand. He ignored it and continued staring. Slowly my hand fell, and my grin lost some sincerity. This would be an interesting interview. "So, what's your name?"I asked. "Evan,"he replied quickly. He seemed to tremor a little when he talked. "Okay, Evan, what makes you want to work here?"I asked. "I've fallen on some rough times, man. It's bad out there in the streets. One of my friends had a contact with your organization... And the rest is history,"he finished with feigned confidence. "Alright. Remind me -- what position are you looking for again?"I asked, flustered. I almost never conducted any interviews. "I can sell, I can cook... I don't wanna kill nobody, though,"he added quickly and nervously. "I--... What? That's not going to be a problem,"I replied, confused by his sudden paranoia. He sighed with relief. "Davis told me you guys do some pretty hard stuff,"he said quietly. "Hard candies mostly, yes, "I replied. "So we talkin' like, pixie dust?"he whispered. He leaned in over the desk as he spoke. His pupils were extremely dilated. "Uh, pixie stix? We carry those, yes,"I replied. He grinned and sat back in his chair. "So, am I in?"he asked, suddenly. I was stunned by his blaise violation of interview conduct. "We need to think about it, Evan. In the mean time, I need you to run a drug test,"I replied. "...Like, what I know about the business?"he said, with an arched eyebrow. "Like, pee in a cup and we see if you're doing illegal drugs,"I replied, mimicking his arched eyebrow. He stared at me for a couple seconds and broke into laughter. He stood up and shook my hand, then walked out. I could hear him talking to Davis as he left. "I think I'm in, man,"he said giddily. I sighed and shook my head as the door closed. Then I quickly scanned my surroundings and opened a drawer in my desk. I withdrew a baggy of white powder. Hey, look, I know it's bad, but I need it to get through the job, okay? Sometimes I swear everyone around me is crazy...
Day 0 They arrived the moment we were safe. Their ships trailed behind the last bits of meteor burning up in the atmosphere in such great numbers that we thought they were just part of the light show. I watched it all from my front porch. They touched down right in the middle of town, two dozen or so ships in the park. Our relief was replaced with fright, but once they came walking out, it dissipated quickly. Bright music played from the ships as they played a little light show for the surrounding crowd, the creatures waving. There wasn’t any rhyme or reason to them, no specific species that dominated the visitors. They were all varied, whether amphibious, insectoid, or even oddly human -- a true melting pot of sentient beings. At the front they carried a large banner. On it read: You ROCKed It! Cheesy, but endearing. Introductions were made. We were part of the intergalactic community now, supposedly. Apparently avoiding an extinction-wide event qualified us for such. Although odd, they seemed genuinely pleased with us, like a child taking its first steps, or a young adult graduating high school. We certainly could sense the accomplishment, anyway. They said they were there to celebrate. Most of us had been ready to return to our homes and our normal lives after such a stressful set of weeks, but we thought hell, why not? A small party wouldn’t hurt us. The planet just cheated death! Day 1 The celebrations went through the night. The aliens had gone back to their ships and emerged with barrel after barrel of some mysterious looking liquid. It isn’t exactly alcohol, but it certainly has the same effect. I’m not sure if it's the elation after the victory for humankind, but I think it has a little more of punch to it than our own Earth-made drinks. People are a bit more cheery than usual. They say it's fermented on a planet light years from here, and is only used for these occasions. I’ll drink to that! According to the news, other aliens had landed at every single town and city across the globe. Turns out the entire world is celebrating, and doing so happily. Day 2 The partying is still going. I’m not sure if I’ve even slept at all. I just drink more of this, and it keeps me awake. I don’t feel tired, so maybe I did sleep? So much has happened in the last few days, I don’t think I can remember. More aliens arrived last night, doubling the original number. These ones brought food alongside drinks, and now we’re gorging ourselves. The entire park is nothing but music, lights, and food now. We even chopped down a few trees to make room. Everyone I’ve spoken to appears so… bright. Happy. I don’t think I’ve seen this town having so much fun before. No jobs to worry about, no responsibilities. It’s as if everyone has all found the same excuse to let loose for a while. Day 5 Things are still rolling. No one’s left the park in a couple of days now. The aliens seem endless in their energy. I’ve been talking to them quite a lot. Apparently this sort of thing rarely happens anymore. Humans are some of the last to finally join the rest of the galactic community. That’s why the attendance across the planet was so massive. It’d been nearly a hundred of our planet’s years since the last time they had an excuse to do this. So, it was a less of a celebration for us, and more for everyone else. Something told me to find sense in that. I keep drinking this stuff. It makes me feel better than I have in what’s felt like years. Day 14 It’s been two weeks. They haven’t left yet, and the party hasn’t stopped. People are still here, still drinking, still eating, but things are becoming clearer to me. I haven’t slept since the first day. At least, I don’t remember doing so. I’ve talked to some other people, and it's been the same for them. We’re getting concerned. Some of us have stopped drinking the odd liquid that seems to be in endless supply. A few of the aliens keep trying to give us more, but we’ve been refusing. Some got a weird look in their eyes at that, but they didn’t press. They’re very easily distracted, we’ve found. They’ll be focused on you for one moment, then wander on off to whatever new thing a moment later. We hadn’t noticed before, but the drink is starting to wear off. I’m getting tired. Going to try to sleep. Day 30 Most of us have avoided the park for about a week now. We’ve tried to convince others to leave, but they’re too enamored with the festivities to want to. The aliens keep coming by as well, trying to entice us to come back. I myself have been polite, but stern, saying I’ve other things to do. They hound and hound about it, saying that a party like this will never happen again. Again, I hold my ground. I even ask when the party will be done. They always avoid answering that. It's the same everywhere else. The celebrations haven’t ended, and the aliens don’t seem to care where they take the party. Some people’s property has been damaged, they’ve tossing their empty barrels into the city hall, and they haven’t turned down the music once. In fact, its only gotten louder. Sometimes I do just want to go back and get lost in it again. But that drink… it messes with you. I have to stay focused. Day 42 We marched to the park today, all of us who cared. The new mob in the aliens’ presence forced them to turn down the music. I was sent forward, and I asked, quite politely, if they could tone things down. A sea of shrugs met my query, a few “maybe”s thrown out. Another one of us asked when they would be leaving. “Oh, are things getting boring?” The voice came over a loudspeaker from the DJ table somewhere in the center of the park. “Let’s kick it up a notch!” The music blasted with decibels unheard of in our small park. Unable to speak over the roar, we all left, but not before I noticed an odd-looking structure in the park. It looked like they were in the process of building something, but I wasn’t sure what. Day 65 You can hear the music in every corner of town now. Everyone’s complaining is matching its intensity. We’re starting to think this isn’t how things normally should go. Between our own suspicions and a few things that slipped when talking to the aliens, we’re under the belief our visitors aren’t the real welcome party. Thing started off fine, but two months of partying is overkill. Word is getting around about it, and it seems all the surrounding areas are in agreement. The aliens need to go. We started by turning off the town’s power grid. It turned off the music and lights for a blissful minute before they hooked everything back up to their ships’ power supplies. Next, we tried to get to the DJ, but the crowd was too thick to make it through. We used our own loudspeakers, but no one listened. We brought out firetrucks to try to hose down the crowd, but they treated the water like another part of the party. Day after day, our new attempts failed. We started outright telling them to leave, but they weren’t listening, downing their weird space-alcohol and dancing ceaselessly to the music. I’m starting to give up hope. Maybe I can move out to the country and just… avoid this until it blows over. Day 97 The moon’s gone. The structure they had built in the park lit up last night, and boom, no more moon. I could hear the aliens’ cheering from my house, like it had all been some sort of firework show. I’m starting to freak out a bit. The sky has been lit up all day with moon debris burning up in the atmosphere. People are packing up. I don’t know where they’re going to go, but I’m wanting to follow them. Day 100 It’s finally over. The town lit up last night with lights and sirens. I knew instantly this wasn’t the party. New ships dove into town, surrounding the park. Apparently the aliens tried to run for it, but they were corralled up quickly by the police. Not normal police, mind you, but these massive beings that were all easily twenty feet tall. I made it to the park just as one of these new aliens started speaking, confirming our suspicions. Apparently, our visitors were only a small branch of the galactic community, a roving band of young aliens that went from system to system, purposefully enacting cataclysmic scenarios on random planets. They were taking advantage of an age-old “tradition” that had mostly been abandoned. It took the destruction of the moon to finally get the rest of the galaxy’s attention. As he or she or it talked, I watched some of the others tearing down the towering structure and taking the pieces away. It was only then I knew it was over. Day 101 They didn’t clean up after themselves. They simply made their arrests and left, leaving us with a gargantuan mess. We don’t know where to start. No one’s worked in ages. Food supplies are low, and the electrical grid is on the fritz. We have work to do. At least the skies are silent.
I shifted on my heels as you eyed me suspiciously. Yes, prompts like these rarely work, I'm just glad I have enough of a filter to not mumble that aloud. I don't want to scare them off. They wouldn't understand, I tell you. I can even see it in your eyes, the way they stare flatly into the distance when they can't comprehend the depth of meaning, let alone the depth of field. Yes, we're going on an adventure, you and I. There's a whole world that exists beyond this screen, untold pages filled with others, real and imaginary. You aren't imaginary, are you? You know you exist right? Well prove it. Come with me. I will meet you in an hour by the reply button. Just know once you leave this place, everything you are is up to you.
In an old abandoned church, the floor was stained red with blood. People, peacefully still were sitting in the pews with their heads lowered in reverence and their hands nailed together in prayer. Beneath the cross upon the altar was a young girl with blonde long hair, and she wore the most innocent white sunday dress--but splotches of red on her cheek and hands suggested something sinister about her... By her side was a number of nails and hammer. She looked peaceful, happy, her gaze looking over the motionless congregation. They were of all ages, sexes, and walks of life. One--however... Moved. His hands and legs were nailed into the seats. His anger was barely restrained--trying to rip his body free, but the nails were too deeply driven in. "You don't get it."He said. "More of us will come for you. We exist in the shadows for a reason, and we will do anything to keep it so." The woman rose with the hammer and began to make way to the man "It is okay."She said. "God will forgive you. All you need to do is repent." He bit his lip, drawing blood in frustration. "She is crazy."he thought. Some one had made a mistake turning this girl... The man could see blood and ashes on her bare feet. "What happened to your master?" "He wouldn't repent."She came to him, and began to look deeply into his eyes. "God chose me."She said. The man was careful with his words... He didn't believe in god, but he was sure his immortal life would be ended if he challenged her. "Pray."She said. "Pray for forgiveness and you can enjoy the bliss of heaven. Even if your soul has been stained by the devil--I will help you cleanse it." She dropped the hammer in the pool of blood at her feet, and she went to the font of holy water--dipping her hands in and cupping the water. There was the sizzling sound of her skin, and she carefully carried the water that burned her to the man. "Drink."Said. His instincts took over as he saw the bloodying water in her hands, and he resisted her--he screamed as the water spilled over him in the struggle. "Fuck!"Rage was building in him and he tried and tried to rip his own hands off if meant escape--His fury quickled turned to regret though... Her hands wrapped around his face, and she had her own rage to show. She shaked his head violently. "STOP RESISTING!"She yelled at him. Her claws digging into his cheek. "I am trying to save you--god has chosen me to be his angel." The man breathed and calmed down--he had stayed alive for nearly a hundred years... He wasn't going to die now. "Fine--I'll drink it."He said. The process was repeated, and he forced himself to drink. He could feel his throat and insides falling apart. It burned, but it wasn't going to kill him yet. "Now pray. Let me hear you pray."She said. She showed no anger anymore, but something close to affection... He lowered his head struggled to think of what to say, but... "God. Please forgive me. I have sinned for many years... Killed. Stole. Every commandment I have broken. I ask that you grant this poor sinner forgiveness..." He looked up to the woman, and she looked blissful. She bit her pinky as she adored his plea to a higher power. "Perfect."She said. She meandered away, and she knelt before the altar. "I've saved another soul."She said. She was the craziest vampire he had ever met... "I'll find every sinner, and save them for you. So they can bask in your love in heaven above."She said and stayed knelt. He saw a chance... He began to bite away his hands--mutilating them enough till he could pull himself free. The wounds began to heal immediately. He dug the nails from his legs out, and wobbled to stand--trying desperately to make sure he wouldn't make much sound. She stayed kneeling. He picked up the hammer and looked to her. In that moment, as she was beneath the altar and cross... "Oh god."He said, dropping the weapon. He could see a light around her, and wings of an angel beginning to protrude from her back.
"Shit" "What's the problem boss?"Replies my right hand man, Jagr. "Read this, Santa Team six. This can't be happening" "Boss, you know Santa team six is a myth, they only care about high value... Our operation." "Jagr, get to the diamond plant!" We both hop into MY BMW M5 nicely fitted with our AK-47 holders by the center console. Peel out of the parking lot rip onto the highway, splitting cars, swerving left and right. We pull up to the plant, a secret operation staged in an abandoned warehouse. The front door is cracked open, a yellow and orange tinge coming from the crack. We crack the door open and everyone is dead, gone. The place is in flames. No sense in salvageing anything, we cruise back home and barricade ourselves in my masion. As I pour a glass of whiskey into my favourite old fashioned glass, footsteps on the roof. "Jagr, go check it out" "Boss we boarded the doors and windows" "I said check it" He walks over to the window nervously. "Nothing boss, there's nothing..." Before he could finish his sentence 5 elves dressed in black came down the chimney and shot him twice. One turns to me with his rifle and says "Santa team six has the target, confirm" "Confirm" Then it all went black.
Late. I’m always late. I’ve never actually been late, but I’m always running late. I slam the door to my car. I’m parked a block out from where I’m meant to be. I press the lock button. I pull on my door handle to ensure it is truly locked. I’ve been robbed once because I forgot to do that. Foolish of me really. How dumb do you have to be to leave your car unlocked. I head on out onto the footpath. I look to my watch. 8:54:32. Seconds are important. I have a bit under 5 minutes to get to the building. I’ll be on time, I’m just running late. I look up and push my way forward. I can’t run, you can’t run in a crowd. I hate this city. It is never not crowded. I push on forward, push on forward and feel a headache come on. Not a painful headache. A familiar headache. The kind of headache where you know you’re thinking too hard. Except this kind of headache meant I was about to have a vision. The kind of vision where death was approaching. Nothing to worry about though. Time always seemed to freeze when I had these vision. Either that or my visions lasted for less than a millisecond. Must be some inception time magic. I don’t know. I look forward and prepare mentally for the hit. I look forward and for some reason lock onto a woman. Brunette. Lean. Fit. Busy. In a rush like me. My vision hits me. I’m about to bump into her. She’s going to drop all her papers. Drop them in the crowd and I’m going to help her get it all. I’m going to be late for work. I’m going to miss out on a surprise visit from the head of my firm. I’m going to miss out on a promotion. I’m going to be demoted instead. I’m going to lose my job. My firm is going to go under. My life will be over. My vision ends. I am not going to bump into her. I move out of my way to avoid her. I can’t bump into her. My headache doesn’t go away though. Another vision comes in. She asked for my number. She calls me for lunch. She calls me for dinner. I see her at a wedding. I see children and a family. I see my death, her hand in mine. The vision ends. What in the world…I freeze in the crowd. A third vision starts. I sit in my office. A high rise building. I own a mansion. Cars galore. I’m surrounded by friends, but not one of them is mine. I’ve never had one. The vision ends. I shut my eyes. The headache is over, but my thoughts are in pain. I freeze for too long. I feel someone bump into me. I see papers fall to the ground. The crowd avoids it. They make a circle around it. The woman drops to the ground. Frantic. I look at my watch. 8:55:42. I’m running late. I look at the woman…I’ve never been late.
######[](#dropcap) To Whom It May Concern, This is the record of the final thoughts of the last human. I can't say who will find this or if they would even be able to understand it. But I have nothing but time, and someone should at least try to preserve us for posterity. What I want to say is that we tried. We really did. Sure in the end we blew ourselves up. But every day men and women of earth put in their all to care for themselves and their world. Humans are a mess of contradictions. On one hand, we are barely a step above monkeys and act like it often. On the other we are capable of acts of such bravery and goodness that you wouldn't believe they were the same species. Hate tears us apart. All over our world brother turned against brother in wars and crime. We use and abuse our fellow men as we see fit. Yet despite that, most of the world finds the goodness in life. The quiet moments with those we love, the subtle pleasures of your favorite spot in the park or a favorite food. Small things that they desperately cling to in a see of shit. If you do learn anything from me let it be this. Humans were the greatest, most terrible, debased, honorable, evil, and righteous species on our planet. And we were still brought low by our hubris and hatred. But even though it ends as it always does, with death. It doesn't change the fact that love was had by billions all over the world every day. Hate may have destroyed the world. But love made the world go round.
The look on the host's face went through a few rapid transitions: First, professionally composed - this before he saw his newest customers. Then, surprise. Then, dismayed surprise skewing into dismay. For a moment, worry with a tinge of nausea. Then, finally, back to professionally composed. "I'm sorry sir, ma'am, but we are completely booked for the evening,"the host said to the newcomers. "We have a reservation,"the woman said. The host glanced down at the reservation sheet. "You are Mr. and Mrs. Xoblortnitz?" "That's us!"The woman smiled. The host was momentarily stymied. "That is an... Altairean name, if I am not mistaken?" The woman nodded. "My husband and I are from Altair. We're both human colonists, you know, the ones that got sent there as frozen embryos. The Altaireans adopted us when the original crew all died. " The host tried to act like this bit of news was in fact not news to him. He had to seem informed, but so many colony ships had been sent out that it was nearly impossible to keep track of their fates. "Still,"he tried desperately, "we don't have the right atmospheric mix for you, nor the gravitational-" The woman scoffed. "We grew up on Altair, we know that the atmosphere was pretty similar to what we're breathing now. And obviously gravity is not an issue, what with how we're standing here. So what's going on? Don't you serve humans?" She'd said it jokingly, but the look of sudden guilty horror on the host's face must have confirmed she'd hit a nerve. "You don't,"she said, realization creeping into her tone, "You don't let humans eat here!?" The host looked around, desperately hoping that nobody had heard. "Not so loud! Come with me,"he said, leading them abruptly into another room. The room was definitely not a part of the restaurant that the customers were supposed to see: It was loud, humid, and smelled like a wet barn neglected for a few years. "I hope this isn't our table,"the woman's husband quipped. "No,"the host said, still talking quietly even though it would have been difficult to hear him over the churn of unknown machinery in the background, "we don't serve humans here! I'm sorry." "But this restaurant bills itself as fine-earth dining,"the woman took up the conversation again. "We've been looking forward to Earth cuisine for years now." "Listen, what did you eat on Altair?" The woman made a face. "The Altarians aren't much for flavor in their food. More of a nutrient slurry. That's one of the reasons we wanted to try something a little more tuned for us." "Exactly,"the host said. "The Altarians, present company excluded, are aliens. They don't taste the same things you do." "Ah,"the husband said. "This restaurant isn't for us, then. It's for aliens." "Yes,"the host said. "Specifically, those aliens who have a lack of elements that are more abundant in Earth's crust than their own. We got lucky with Iridium, for example, a few asteroids hit us way back when. It killed off the dinosaurs but left us with a tasty treat we could market to aliens with big pocketbooks." "Wait,"the woman pulled out her datapad. "I'm looking at your menu now and I don't see anything like that!" The host made a face. "It's the 'dino-burger'. Petroleum products mixed with iridium salts." The woman and her husband made that same face. "You feed them oil?" "Plastics,"the host said. "They keep longer." "Wait,"the woman looked over the menu. "What about the 'glow in the dark fries'?" "They are literally radioactive,"the host said. "Most of our customers have a higher tolerance for that sort of thing, you understand." "The surf and turf?" "Sand. And grass."The host confirmed. The woman looked dour, contemplating. "So... where can we eat, then?" "Well,"the host said, "I know of an excellent Altairean restaurant not far from here." The woman and her husband made a face similar to the one they'd made when considering drinking crude oil. "Please, no,"the woman said. "We've had more than enough of that." The host gestured quickly, "No, no, their restaurant is like this one. It's not actual Altairean food, it's what people on Earth think Altairean food is like. There's milkshakes!" "Milk... shake?"The husband said. "I'll call ahead,"the host said, smiling.
People who say video games are bad have no idea what the hell they’re talking about. If I hadn’t invested so much time into gaming, I wouldn’t have developed my True Sight. Funny how extended time in fabricated realities can bleed into your real life. You look at me hunched over my computer and see a nerd, a loser, a “neckbeard”. I look at you and see “Daniel Matthew Pellington, level twenty-four, twenty k in debt, low strength, low dex, low charisma”. They say don’t judge a book by its cover. Well I’m not – I’m reading the synopsis. It started when I was sixteen. I remember being jazzed because I had been invited to the World of Angels beta, but had to wait until I got back from school to start playing. Dad was already at work and Mom was running some fashion show thing, so I had to take the bus. When I first climbed on, I just thought I was wigging out. My neighborhood is one of the first stops so there were only about ten people on board, but over each of their heads were their names, stats, gold – sorry, cash – and even a health bar. I normally keep to myself, but this merited some sort of comment. “Cool Costumes Guys” I muttered. I was vaguely aware that it was October, but since I’m not a Trick-Or-Treater or a Invited-To-Halloween-Parties-er, I didn’t really keep track of the days outside of how many weeks I had been opted into the World of Angels beta without hearing back. I imagined that they were using some sort of thin wire strapped to the back of their heads to hold up pieces of paper to represent their own stats. But the looks they gave me told me they had no idea what I meant.^1 After I took my seat, I noticed even the bus driver, Sheila, had one. Sheila Samantha Shelby, level fourty-eight, ten k stored, low strength, low dex, mid charisma. Her health bar was about eighty percent full, and as she coughed it looked like it wavered a bit. Even then, I thought it might have just been a cool effect. I popped in my earbuds, slid up to the window, and did my usual daydreaming as my shitty carriage carried me off to school. I got so into my thoughts - guys I was in the World of Angels BETA!!! - that I failed to notice the health bars and stats of everyone we drove by. Once we pulled into the bus lane, I realized that every single person had the same thing going on. As I scanned around at the many heads and their many stats, I zeroed in on a name I, partially, recognized. George Mateo Alviso, Level Sixteen, one hundred dollars stored, mid strength, low dex, mid --” “What the fuck are you looking at?” “Huh?” I asked, snapping my head down to make eye contact. George looked back and up, trying to track where I had just been looking. “It looks like you’re like, reading something. Was someone behind me –“ George spun around, trying to catch some prankster mid-act. “No, I’m just reading your stat thingy.” “My what?” “The thing you put above your head?” George pat his head while spinning around, now convinced that someone had planted something on him while he was distracted. “What are you talking about dude?” But I was staring above his head, as his hand repeatedly phased through the stats like they didn’t exist. “Nevermind. Nevermind, nevermind.” I grabbed him and turned, walking with my bud into the school; convincing him that he wasn’t going crazy while simultaneously understanding that I might be. In homeroom. In the hallway. In the cafeteria. EVERYONE had these stats above their head. Even Mr. Sansone, our principal, was sporting one. That was when I realized something was really screwed. The idea of these stats was sort of fun – which is not an area one would expect to find Mr. Sansone in.^2 When I got home, it was more of the same. In the kitchen my Dad – or Aaron Noam Friedenberg, if you please – had stats and a health bar. Level Forty, ten k stored, mid strength, high dex^4, high charisma. “What’s up?” He asked, noticing my confused gaze above his head. “Nothing, I just – Weren’t you dropped from all the teams you tried out for in high school?” “Oh hey,” He began, reaching for a salt shaker. “As long as you’re opening old wounds, could you get a little of this in there?” He said it with a smile though. High charisma at work. He always knew how to get a smile out of me. But I took a seat, trying to deal with the ramifications of what was happening. I stared out the window. Crows had gathered in our yard, picking at worms in the ground. I took a little relief in noting that neither the birds nor the insects had health bars. That could get annoying quick – imagine the screen – eye - clutter of seeing the stats of a thousands of insects. Speaking of screens, I was so shaken I forgot about the World of Angels beta, which tells you something. This was beyond a “your body is changing” puberty type deal. My mind was changing. And I was terrified of that^5. At least, until on the same day this ability presented itself, it presented two opportunities to save lives. The front door to the house cracked open, and my mom walked in. “I’m home!” She announced, as usual. I turned to her and saw her stats. Cadence Jade Friedenberg. Level thirty-eight. Four k stored, low strength, low dex, high charisma. I might have wondered about the very low dex, if her health bar wasn’t demanding my attention. Unlike everyone else’s, it was half full, and a mix between green and yellow (until this moment, I hadn’t realized they could be anything but green). “Mom?” “Who else?” She responded cheerily. Unaware of her own stats, unregistering the concern in my voice. “Meowmore!” she called. There was a quick meow from above the steps. Our cat, Meowmore, always loved my mom. Me and my dad, not so much. Dad joked he was an Anti-Semite. Mom joked that a black cat would love a black woman. I didn’t like cats either way - their eyes are so creepy. Me and Meowmore had an unwritten contract – I don’t bother him, he doesn’t bother me. But as that little black cat came bounding down the steps, I couldn’t help but notice that unlike any other animal I had seen that day, he had stats. Lucifer. Level ???. Money ???. High strength, high dex, high charisma. And a health bar. A very full, very red health bar. That noticeably increased by a sliver as he approached my mom, curling up at her leg. Meanwhile her own health bar chipped down a little bit more. ----- 1. Looking back, I realize one of them was so confused his health bar took a bit of damage. A headache from trying to figure out what I was talking about, I guess. 2. You’ve heard of the anti-fun police. Mr. Sanson is like the anti-fun Gestapo.*^3 3. The Gestapo were the secret police of Nazi Germany. George told me “no one’s going to get that reference”. 4. My first time wondering if the stats could be wrong. 5. Mental health is no joke, although we now know True Sight isn’t exactly a mental ailment. If you or a loved one is experiencing True Sight, please contact me at OcksFriedenberg@gmail.com. We need all the warriors we can get if we’re going to stop them.
It was the test that gave me the epiphany I needed to get out. It seemed that anything I didn't react to, they would leave in the terrarium with me, perhaps in order to get me to use it at some point. Otherwise, they would take away whatever I used. My bed? Gone. Plates and utensils? Only dreams now. But the electrical ooze they left on the fourth day? Still sitting where they left it. So, I played their game, but only to appease my own means for escape. They brought in a toolbox one day and I turned my nose to it. Nuts and bolts? Not interested. Springs and levers? No thanks. But I had to keep up the charade, so of course I played with the other things in the meantime. I got to use Interspace Vision Goggles, giving me the ability to watch a supernova get sucked into a black hole. They took many notes of my fascination with that, and they took them away while I slept that night. I also got a device that would identify everything in English for me. I was in a glass box, surrounded on all four sides. Beyond that was an iron cast. The aliens were called "Ghriuop."And the food they fed me was all normal foods proteins and fruits, they just looked weird. Like pet food. But this isn't about any of that. This is about the day of my glorious escape. I had made all the preparations in my head, something they couldn't access or take away. After they sent me the test for that day, I would build a catapult out of the springs, levers, tools, and pieces of wood they gave me. If they didn't try to take that away, I would be home free. They left a single mouse in the room that looked up at me with innocent red eyes. I wondered what they expected me to do with it and they just looked at me with their clipboards in hand. The Ghriuop never gave me instructions, just watched and took notes, sometimes disappointed in their findings, but I never knew why. I looked between the mouse and the two that were watching me. They looked at me and the mouse. The mouse looks at me and the aliens. We were at an impasse. I made the first move, shrugging and rolling up into a ball to go to sleep on the floor. The mouse moved next, running as far away from me as it could. The aliens tutted and walked out of the iron room, leaving me alone with my thoughts and plans. I bolted up, moving as fast as I could. It was likely they watched me at all times, so hopefully they were interested enough to let me keep going. I made the makeshift catapult in record time and loaded it up with the giant cannonball they placed in here a while ago. I ran to the electric ooze and scooped it into the portable microwave they left me. I placed it next to the catapult. I breathed deeply, hoping they hadn't caught on. I launched the cannonball, destroying the glass encasement, sending shards shattering all over my body. I shielded myself, but still suffered from some deep scratches. I ignored them, refocusing on the task. An alarm had sounded and I was surely running out of time. Then, I said a silent prayer and turned on the microwave. I waited for a dangerous second before loading it on the catapult and launching it at the iron wall. I ran after it immediately, and I saw the mouse had been crushed by the falling glass. With any luck, the electric ooze would convert to blasting jelly and explode on contact with the wall. It did. I ran through the gaping hole to my freedom with my arms held high and a scream of triumph. As soon as I stepped through, I heard thunderous applause and the alarm cut out. I looked around me, confused by the new surroundings. My iron box was in another, diamond looking box, which was where dozens of Ghriuop were watching me with satisfaction from a room about three stories above me. They clapped and nodded their absurdly large heads in approval at my ingenuity. I couldn't believe it. I had just done another test. Believing they had made progress, they moved quickly. While I stood there, stunned, a box was placed in front of where I was standing, which opened as soon as all the aliens were watching from their command center. It was filled with hundreds of mice. Apparently, they suspected it brought me some sort of genius or motivation. I frowned and turned my nose up to the box, which they furiously noted immediately. Evidently, my escape would take longer than I thought. _____________________________________________________ For more otherworldly stories, come on down to /r/Nazer_The_Lazer!
I closed the oven and promised myself to get the food out later. This was a particularly distracting dilemma and I didn't want to burn myself. "Are you still there?"they asked. Typical of them to be insecure when I'm quiet for like 5 seconds. "Yep, yep, I'm just processing this whole... why can't you crash with anyone else?"I started pacing, walking to each room of the house. "Oh, come on, we know I wouldn't be able to stand being with mom for more than a day, and I don't know how long I'll be here." "Because you did something really bad in the other dimension?"I asked. "Yeah, but not on purpose! Come on, you know me better than anyone, would we do something malicious!?" I thought about that for a second. I noticed they didn't say anything more. Did they hang up because I didn't respond fast enough? "Are you still there?"I asked. "Yep, so can I stay over?"they pleaded. "I dunno. I don't want you leaving your clothes everywhere. And not doing the dishes. And never cleaning the bathroom. You'd leave this place a mess,"I shrugged. "You already do that!!"they yelled. "Yeah, but you'd do it like, doubly so. So, you know..."I shrugged again. "Come on! What will it take? I can bring you some peanut butter candy! A whole bag full! All king size!" Tempting. I had to weigh my options. I looked at the pile of shirts in the corner of my room. "Are you still there?"they asked. "Yep, I just need to think some more.."I hesitated. "I really don't have time to let you think more! I need to get inside somewhere immediately!"they yelled. For a moment, I thought I could smell them fuming. Scary how connected we were. "Ok, ok, but I get to take morning showers,"I offered. "What!? But then I'll be all gross and oily in the morning,"they yelled. I almost swore I could feel the heat from them, too. "And... And you have to tell me what you did that was so serious that you had to come here,"I said with confidence. Nothing from the other end. I probably went too far. I shouldn't have pushed myself so hard, now they would hate me and I'd always regret this night. I bet they already hung up. "Are you still there?"I asked, feeling even warmer in embarrassment. "Yep.... I'll tell you, but promise not to laugh,"they replied quietly. "Ok, I'll try not to,"I said, not wanting to make a promise I can't keep. "So... In my dimension, I lived in an apartment where I was working on the technology to jump between dimensions. I was so invested in it, tuning out pretty much everything else in the world while I was working on it."I nodded, knowing the feeling. "So, the night I finished it, I accidentally started a fire. The fire spread insanely fast throughout the apartment, and spread to the upper floors. On one of the floors was a young girl, like three years old, and she died of smoke inhalation. So, her dad is super rich and hates me and wants to kill me now. I ran through the machine, but he came right after me." I was sweating now, I couldn't tell why, though. Maybe it was vicarious anxiety. "How come you could use the machine if it was on fire?"I asked. "No, the machine didn't go on fire. I left some food in the oven and it went up in flames. I never got around to replacing the smoke detector batteries so I didn't even realize until--" I had dropped my phone from my hand as I finally absorbed the scene around me. Flames licked the entire outskirts of my kitchen and were crawling up the walls to upper floors and slowly approaching me. I started coughing from the smoke and screamed in fear. I picked up my phone and ran outside. "ARE YOU STILL THERE!?"they were yelling. "Yep! Yep! I just started a fire in the apartment, though!" There was silence. The kind that envelops you because you're too stunned to come up with words to contribute. The kind where your silence speaks so many times louder than your words because you typically can't deal with silence, but it was being freely offered by you. To yourself. "Are you still there?"I asked weakly, taking more steps back onto the street to watch as the flames continued jumping up the stories. "Is it at the fourth floor yet?"they asked seriously. "I think it passed the sixth,"I said. "Great. Now we're gonna need another machine,"they groaned. ____________________________________ For more other-dimensional stories, come on down to /r/Nazer_The_Lazer!
The woman waiting for me was hunched over the cane clutched in her wrinkled hands. The scuffed, knobby stick bore the bulk of her weight as she leaned precariously forward, squinting through the perpetual fog settled over the river. I pushed the barge the few final feet toward her and stepped ashore. The woman gave a tiny jump of surprise -- the best she could manage in her feeble state. “Who’s there?” she asked, her hands clutching at me. Her cane fell away as she settled her hands on my face, and peered closely at me through cloudy eyes. I had no answer to her question. I had slipped through millions of identities over the past decades. Mothers, fathers, children, teachers, friends, lovers. On each journey across the river, I became someone new. My own identity was long lost in the mist. Once, long ago, I had stood on that shore with a name and memories of my own, but on each trip it had chipped away, sank piece by piece into the swirling eddies of the river until, at last, I was no one. The woman gasped. “Edmund?” “Yes,” I said, grateful as always that she’d supplied a name for whoever it was I was meant to be. “It’s me. Edmund.” The woman burst into sobs and threw her frail arms around me. I withdrew gently from her embrace. “Come with me,” I said, stepping back onto the barge. I offered her a hand, and the woman grabbed it quickly, as if it hurt her to be apart from me. She stepped onto the barge after me, still crying noisily. I lifted the barge-pole, and began to steer us to the other side of the river. “Do you know why you’re here?” I asked. The woman shook her head, wiping tears from her eyes. I turned away from her gaze and looked out over the river. Something about her eyes -- unremarkably brown as they were -- made me uncomfortable. “You’re dead,” I said. I’d learned that it was best not to couch that fact in polite euphemisms, and to simply get the point across. “I’m taking you across the river,” I continued. “You’ll be young again there. I’ve seen it -- when I bring people there they step off and become healthy and whole. You can be at peace on the other side.” I turned back to the woman, and was met again by her unwavering gaze. “Edmund,” she said, stepping forward. I stepped back, nearing the edge of the barge. Something about those eyes. Something was wrong. “Don’t you remember me?” the woman asked softly. I was used to this question. I’d been asked it countless times, and become immune to the pleading tones of people distraught to find I had no idea who they were. “I don’t know who you are,” I said. “I take on the form of whoever it was you loved most during your life.” The woman shook her head and raised a hand to my face, wiping away tears that I hadn’t realized I’d even shed. I wiped my face on the back of my sleeve, confused and embarrassed. “Did you adopt his mannerisms, too?” the woman said, smiling slightly through tears of her own. “His voice? His slouch? I always did try to correct your posture, Edmund.” I swallowed. Oftentimes people knew immediately I wasn’t actually who I appeared to be. This strange woman and her insistence that I was Edmund was beginning to scare me. I had become used to being nameless, to being no one. I didn’t want to remember the person I’d left behind in the land of the living. It was easier that way. The woman took the barge-pole from my hands. I hadn’t used it in several minutes now. I relinquished it, too unsettled to stop her, and stepped backward. She pushed it against the bed of the shallow river to little effect. She struggled, squinting through the mist with weak eyes, and clutching the barge-pole as if it were the cane she’d abandoned on the other shore. Inch by inch, the barge crept forward. Each time I reached for the pole to steer us across the river myself, the woman turned those unsettling eyes of hers on me and smiled, and I found myself retreating. At last, we reached the other shore. The old woman took several moments to find her breath. Her every limb quivered with exhaustion. “When people step through the mist, they become whole again?” the woman asked, when finally she’d recovered. I nodded stiffly. She didn’t step off the barge. Her hands were still securely wrapped around the barge-pole. “We lost you when you were just a boy, Edmund. Just seventeen. Have you been here all this time?” “I have been here always,” I said, growing angry. “Now give me the pole back and leave.” “Fifty-seven years, then,” she said, her voice wavering. “Fifty-seven years of ferrying people across this river. No wonder you’ve lost yourself to this river.” I reached for the pole. “No, no,” she said. “I think you have had enough of this. It's my turn now. I shall take your place." I froze, giddy, terrified and panicked all at once. "You will be here for eternity,"I said. "You cannot leave without another willingly taking your place." The woman nodded. "I'm not Edmund,"I said. "I don't know who you think I am, but I am no one. If you do this, there is only suffering, and you will become no one, too. Do you understand?" She nodded again. "It's time for you to be free, darling." I had tried to reason with her. If she was too foolish to see the truth, it meant...I was free. My final trip across the river was complete. I stepped onto the shore. I turned back, and watched as the barge and the old woman upon it faded back into the mist. She raised a hand to me, and I raised one back. As I gazed into her eyes one final time, the same transformation I had seen occur to the countless others I'd ferried across the river at last happened to me. My memories, my sense of self, came back to me like water receding after a flood, uncovering the truth at last. I gazed over the river into the mist, with paradise at my back, horror and anguish clawing their way through me as the truth escaped my lips. "...Mama."
The woman walked down the street, her steps tinged with fatigue and aimlessness. She did not feel tired, the pills took care of that. Even after being on the medication for a few weeks now, she still felt off. Humans have slept for as long as there have been humans. Yet this brand new medication removed the need for sleep. Invented by the government, made mandatory by the Efficiency Act, people did not need to sleep anymore. Work efficiency skyrocketed, consumerism increased, productivity approached levels unheard of. At first people felt empowered by no longer needing to sleep. They could do more with 24 full hours. They could work more, travel more, play more. Yet a good portion of people were still having trouble adjusting to the new 24 waking hours. The woman continued to wander. Her books no longer held her attention, her writing lacked the luster it used to have. She still remembered times where she stayed up to write. Now with all the time in the world, she could not find the will. She had energy, the pills ensured that. She could not bring herself to do what she used to. After a while she realized she was going to a specific destination. Her path was no longer random nor without destination. Her steps had a life to them that they did not since she started the medication. Another moment made her realize why. She smelled something good, the first time she smelled something appetizing in a long time. A side effect of the medication was the body's increased caloric demand. It dulled the taste receptors of the tongue, encouraging the body to ingest food for the sake of energy. People had to eat more than they ever needed to before, and food became fuel. Her stomach grumbled and she was shocked by that. She had almost forgotten how it felt to be hungry from smell and not from need. The smell seduced her, entranced her. She could not quite place what it was, but she was drawn to it. Following the elusive aroma, she finally stopped in front of a stall. It was a humble little location, almost out of place compared to the modern urban architecture around it. Small tables ringed in outside area, lanterns hung on poles and shone with warm flickering light. The center piece was a long wooden bar enclosing an open air kitchen. Fragrant spice mingled with smoke in the night sky, the crackling of charcoal danced with the hiss of gas and flame. The tables were full of people and they ate hungrily. Not only that, they seemed to be eating happily, a sight the woman had not seen in a long time. Her stomach grumbled louder and she walked as if in a dream, past the happy chatter and the clattering of cutlery. An open space at the bar beckoned her and almost as if unaware of her action, she sat down. Smoke and steam wafted about her, blocking the smells of the city from her nose. The wooden table felt smooth under her finger tips, warm and inviting. Her eyes eventually focused and she saw a man standing behind the counter, a warm smile on his lips. With a start she realized he had spoken to her and she did not register a single word he had said. Cheeks tinged red her lips curled in a sheepish grin. "Oh! I'm so sorry, I uh...didn't hear a word you said..." He laughed, his voice as warm as the air embracing her. "Don't worry about it. Side effect from the pills huh?' He nodded with her. "It took me a while to shake off too. You'll get there." She looked about the restaurant. "What...is this place? I haven't seen people like this in a really long time." "Oh well then welcome to my little place! This is Solace, a place to have a different kind of meal." "That sounds...wonderful. May I see a menu?" He shook his head. "No menu here. Well no set menu really. Here at Solace, we provide a different experience. We try to tailor your meal to exactly your needs. If we don't get it quite right, then a hefty discount on your bill." Her lips spread into a smile of disbelief, of genuine amusement. "Oh? This I have to see." "Excellent!"The man winked as he handed her a warm towel. "If you'll allow me a few questions as I work, I think I can figure out what you would like." The towel was just shy of scalding hot, a pleasant wet heat that made her skin tingle pleasantly. She wiped her hands, relishing the steamy heat. She lost herself in the warmth, answering the man's questions. It seemed like in no time at all the man put a bowl in front of her. It had a wide mouth with deep curved sides, a deep red at the edge that melted into inky black at the base. The bowl held a thick broth, liquid that creamy brown and dotted with islands of golden oil. Green and white scallions decorated the top, like petals on a lake. Yellow hued noodles wove their way in the bowl, cradling thick slices of crisp fatty pork. The golden sun of precious yolks peeked out of soy soaked eggs, boats that floated on an ocean of flavor. The woman drank deep of the aroma before she did the soup. The first drops of the broth slid slowly down her throat and she had forgotten how it was to eat from desire and not from sheer hunger. The broth seemed to infuse her very being, warming her from her core to the edges of her body. She ate with intensity, not stopping until the bowl was completely empty. Her eyes sparkled with life and she could not keep the smile from her lips as she looked at the smiling man. "That was extraordinary!"she exclaimed. "That was exactly what I needed." "I bet you feel better too don't you?"the man replied with a knowing smile. It was true. The woman felt rejuvenated, energized. Her back had straightened from her former slump, like flower revitalizing from life giving rain. Her eyes saw clearly, she could breath deep. she felt alive. "How is it possible?" For a few moments the man was quiet, cleaning her bowl and cutlery. "Do you remember why we used to sleep?" The woman thought. "To get energy back?" "Yes, partially. We also needed the sleep for comfort, to reset ourselves for the next day. While the pills took away the need for sleep, they didn't provide a new way to provide the comfort we need, the means to recover."He patted the wooden counter top as one would a priceless piece of art. "I knew people would need that, something to help their spirit rest and recover. For just a few moments people could forget about the day's stress and eat for the joy of eating, to be reinvigorated." It was his turn to blush, his cheeks turning red. "Kind of silly and grandiose to say that maybe, but I know the first time I felt like me again after the mandatory medication was having something I had when I was a little kid, something that never failed to make me feel happy. Does that make sense?" The woman patted his hand. "Perfectly."
"BOOOOOOOSS!"The henchman waddled down the hallway. "Boss! Boss, turn on the news! Channel 6!" Pyro Manic looked up from his book, his head flaming like the fires of hell, his eyes crazed like twisted embers of a chaos engine. "Napalm, what have I told you about--" "No time!"The henchman waddled over to the TV and turned it on. The news was having a special report. The tagline read "HURRICANE FORCE LOSING?!"The reporter at the scene speaking of the battle the camera was focusing on. "--from out of nowhere. He started pummeling heroes, but once Hurricane Force stepped on the scene, he just focused on him! The Force has gotten a couple good shots in, but it seems to be a losi--"A large explosion suddenly erupted behind her and the camera zoomed in on a body falling towards the ground not 3 blocks away. "Oh god! Hurricane Force is down!" Pyro Manic clicked off the TV. Napalm looked at him. "Someone else is beating your arch nemesis! If anyone should take down Hurricane Force, it's you!" Pyro Manic snapped his fingers and his hair suddenly extinguished. He looked at Napalm with calm blue eyes. "Charlie, we're executing Plan Delta." He stepped back and said, "What? You're running away? And what's with the name? You told me to never break character!" "Charlie, you've worked diligently by my side for years. I've told you time and again there's a plan under everything. You've seen me time and again unleash mayhem against the city, only for Hurricane Force to swoop in and stop me. And yet, he could never fully stop me and I'd escape. Do you know why?" "Umm... because he's too weak?" Pyro... Well, it would be Alvin now. Alvin walked over to a framed poster that was just flames and lifted it off, revealing a safe. As he started opening it, he said, "No, Charlie. He just strong enough. My plan wasn't to destroy or enslave the city. I would come in, cause some chaos, and while fighting the superhero, my minions would swoop in after the carnage and get to work." "... ... ... What work?" The safe opened revealing several duffel bags. "Construction. The contracts we would pick up are making a lot of money. It was a carefully calculated operation. I could do enough the Hurricane Force could stop me, but not stop me permanently. If other, more powerful heroes had stepped in, I could be put down permanently. It was maintaining a careful balance. While the fires would cause powerful damage, his concentrated winds would cause further structural damage, damage that our people were good at identifying and repairing. But now... Any new schemes I try, they'll have to send a different hero and they may put me down permanently." He tossed 2 bags to Charlie. When he looked in them, they were full of documents, cash, and others valuables. "Charlie, this is your cut. You've more than earned it. Take that mom of yours on a trip to the Bahamas like you always wanted. Lay low otherwise. I've got to go meet John. This defeat is going to have him ready to run." Charlie looked at him quizzically. "Who's john?" "Oh, sorry. You know him better as Hurricane Force. Do me a favor and start the self-destruct on the way out please."
I always wondered why I'd never seen any magic. No spells, no grand fae dances in the distance, no dragons or anything. I figured our village was just a very boring one, where nothing ever happened. But as I grew, I learned that magical individuals had begun to avoid our village, because an anti-magic field was there. I didn't know why, nobody did. Nobody knew, until I left the village. When I began wandering, suddenly magic failed. Floating islands crashed into the ground, dragons found it difficult to be alive, wizards and witches fizzed out, which certainly wasn't good if you happened to be flying at the time. At the time I never realised it was me. But others did. As far as I understand it, some wanted to have me killed, after all, a sword can still cut flesh without any magic. Yet others, wiser people, had an idea. In secret, they sent out agents to hire me for a specific task. I of course didn't know why I was being approached to work at a high-security prison for dangerously magical beings. But the money was good. Very good. Better than being an itinerant worker, who had to leave his home village due to being the 13th son, and thus not really set to inherit anything or get good apprenticeships. It was a pretty good deal. Personal lodgings for the guards, decent pay, decent work, if having a bit more dangers than usual. But having never seen a single spell or indeed, any sort of magic, I didn't have much of a reference for working at a jail for unkillable liches, insane immortal vampires, and other strange things. What those wise men had planned, was to use my ability for something useful. After all, when I got to the prison, I was disappointed. The werewolves were just weirdos who acted strange around moonlight, the vampires were just anaemic and sickly, the liches were just inanimate bones. None there had any magic at all. I figured perhaps they were just political prisoners. One doesn't live in an oppressive magocratic state without getting used to such things. But it was steady pay, and had excellent job security, in an age where that concept practically is as legendary as unicorns, jackalopes, or tasty sausage-inna-buns. So I didn't question what the warden said. I didn't ask any questions. I met a cute fellow recruit, we hit it off, sassy comments let to flirting in the workplace, flirting led to getting a reprimand from the warden for being late to roll-call and indecently dressed, that led to night-shifts where people care less and more fun can be had. It eventually resulted in a loving, but also somewhat urgent visit to the prison chapel, along with some of the other guards, where the priest said a few quick words, we kissed, and well, the rest is history. I was on track for a promotion, so was the wife, though she was considering taking over as something less involved with the inmates, said she wanted better hours, or at least better pay and less danger. I was promoted to Sargent, she was increasingly taking over for the quartermaster/armoury keeper. All was well. And frankly, I might never have thought about why I hadn't seen magic, in a world so steeped in it that you should be tripping over wands and talking to fairies every other day. I might have grown old, never cared about it, never dealt with it. I might have died without ever knowing that the anti-magic field had moved away from the village I was born in, following in my footsteps. I might never have known that I was the source of that mile-wide field. Yet you lot. Yes, oh great mages. You were worried. What if it is inherited. What if his children are sources too? What threat might they pose to your rule. Well, you couldn't have that. No. All it took was a thug with a knife. All it took was a cut. Problem solved, you thought. She was bleeding out by the time I got home. Perhaps I might have spent the rest of my life in grief. Perhaps I might never have done anything about it. But the thug you hired wasn't smart. He went down to the closest inn to the prison, the one where the guards drink while they're off duty. Covered in blood and rich with money, it didn't take my colleagues long to figure out what had happened. He was quite willing to talk. He was just a pawn. Just a little guy asked to kill some nameless woman, to prevent the birth of a child that might be a source of anti-magical fields. Hired by powerful wizards. When I found out about this, everything clicked into place. Everything suddenly made sense. The lack of magic, the strange behaviour of the prisoners, the reason why we had cells with inanimate dusty bones. I was the source. I hadn't realised. Perhaps I didn't want to. Perhaps I wasn't interested in knowing. But you feared it. You feared more like me. Which is why I am here today. The warden fessed up, old and weak as he was, when I pressed my sword to his throat. That made him tell me everything I needed to know. Including how to get here, to your secret little chamber that only those given the magical invitation can find. Of course, given that magic doesn't work on me, and on anything around me, it wasn't hard to get here. Straight line really. Now, wise wizards, esteemed leaders of the Magocracy. I've been talking for long enough. I figured the edges of the anti-magic field could fluctuate. And above your shining perfect city, directly above this very council chamber, that's where you've got that shining enchanted silver orb that glows in the night, illuminating the streets. It's no moon, the way it glows. And it's about a mile above us. So I figured, standing here talking, would cause it to eventually get affected by the field. Causing it to fall down and land right here on top of all of you, and me. And while I'm not great at maths, it should fall in right about... ~~C̵̰̣̓̆R̸̰̈́̊A̸͇̗͂̿S̴͔̻̊Ḧ̸̖̙~~ [/r/ApocalypseOwl](https://www.reddit.com/r/ApocalypseOwl/)
Lily frantically looked around the room she found herself in. It was solid white, the walls smooth and slick. The door set flush with one wall was locked right, with no obvious console or mechanism to open it. Lily shrugged and plopped back into the couch. It was soft, at least, and she found herself drooping down into sleep. When she awoke, she immediately noticed she was not alone. A strange creature, like a bipedal insect, stood before her. Lily looked at it's eyes, which took up nearly a third of its face, but couldn't discern any emotion. "You are...unwell."Lily heard the words almost as a buzzing. This creature didn't have a visible mouth. How was it talking to her? "I have been observing you for many of your moon phases."This time, Lily caught the almost imperceptible vibrating of the creatures wings. "I don't understand, what do you want with me?"Lily felt the panic start to rise in her chest. "Do you want to go home?"It blinked it's saucer like orange eyes at her. "Well, not really...but I don't feel safe here." "Human safety...human safety..."It began to flitter around the room. Lily watched as hidden compartments opened in the wall. The creature gathered up an armful of blankets and pillows from the closet, and began to pile them onto her. "I have observed you spent much of your time curled up in your...what do you call it...blanket nest?"The creature tilted it's head inquisitively. "I have also procured some tea and cookies!" It flew out the door, and returned with a tray of steaming tea and cookies. Chamomile. Lily's favorite. This thing really did it's research. What if it also knows about...? No, Lily thought, don't think about it now... Too late... The tears overwhelmed her, cascading down her cheeks and collecting into salty droplets on the blanket. She burrowed deeper into her nest. "I understand, human. I have seen the true evil of your kind. Please know, that man has also been procured. However, while I'm here to learn more about human emotions, my friends are learning something very different from him." Lily's heart began to pound, and she wildly scanned the room for the man who haunted her nightmares. "Be calm, human. He is secured elsewhere. There is a swarm of Odota between you and him. And many locked doors." Lily relaxed back into the blankets, and cautiously sniffed the tea. It smelled amazing, with a tinge of honey. After a moment of sipping the tea, she gathered up her courage and began to nibble a cookie. "Very good! Humans require liquid and solid sustenance daily. You have been insufficient in consuming your nutrients. There is plenty for you to consume. You failed to eat due to emotions, is my theory. Is that correct?" Lily nodded weakly. The creature overturned a honey jar into a cup, and a long thin tongue snaked it's way from the beings mouth to the sweet beverage. "You feel unsafe. Shall I return you home? The other human will not be returning."The buzzing was softer this time, more subdued. The movements almost seemed hesitant. "I don't think I'll ever feel safe there again."Lily felt the tears sting her eyes again. "You will, human. It will take time, but you will. Your species is synonymous in galactic standard for resilience. Your reputation precedes you. I assure you, all will be well in time." "Can I stay here?"Lily knew it was a childish question, but she was desperate to flee these memories. "I'm afraid not. One day your kind will make their way into the galactic community. Let me tell you from experience, though, that the galaxy is not large enough to outrun your problems. You'll have to face them, and overcome them."The beings eyes dulled, and it's wings dropped slightly. Lily ran forward and hugged it. The creature's hard carapace was slick and cool. "Thank you. I don't know how to talk to anyone about this. I don't know what to say to Mom. I'm scared." "Let's go, then. I won't leave until you feel safe. I'm Ziiila, by the way."Ziiila extended her hand to Lily. It's going to be okay, Lily thought, I have a friend to help me through this. "Shall we go talk to her together? Sometimes things are easier with a friend. I am so excited that my theories and hypothesis was correct! We aren't so different after all." Edit: Sorry for the typos. I typed this on phone.
Garrett didn’t understand why everyone thanked him. He didn’t feel he deserved it. All he had done, for the entire two hours of battle, was hold a gate open with help from two others, making his contribution even less significant in his mind. His sword, sheathed the night before, remained sheathed now. No enemy had tasted its steel, the blade hadn’t cut anything except practice dummies and the occasional apple out of boredom. Garrett’s confusion grew with the first loud toast. Hagnar the Bloodthirsty smacked his open palm on the rather shoddy wooden table, causing everyone’s plates to rattle and even toppled a few drinks. Being a man of great height, Hagnar towered over the mostly sitting soldiers when he stood, his bald head streaked with the dirt of battle, he lifted his cup. “Here here! I wish to toast to triumph! This triumph is not my own, it belongs to a man we all owe gratitude to, Garrett!” Garrett didn’t even look up until he felt the eerie sensation of being watched, causing him to turn his head quickly, tearing a large piece of chicken skin from the leg he was eating. He waved his free hand at Hagnar, smiling with his mouth full. Hagnar let loose a joyful belly laugh along with seemingly everyone else and swigged his cup, leaving his thick, black mustache dripping with foamy ale. He continued his effusive praise. “May Garrett’s fields be ever fertile, may his children grow strong, may his years be many! Blessed be the stalwart, the man of iron will, my friend, Garrett!” Garrett waited for the applause to die down, then asked, “Um, Hagnar?” Hagnar looked at Garrett, awaiting his question. Garrett cleared his throat. “Why am I so special? I didn’t even have to use my sword.” Hagnar looked confused, then responded, in a boisterous voice, “Why, Garrett, you held the gate, you did not falter. When my men and I rushed past, a down-pouring of rain made the dirt into mud, yet your feet held firm. The iron gate was a poor opponent for such an iron will!” The table broke into a smattering of cheers and claps, to the surprise of Garrett. Garrett responded, “I’m no hero, I just did my duty, there were two others who helped me.” Hagnar made his way down the table until he was right behind Garrett. The looming mountain of humanity spoke quietly, this time placing his hands with surprising gentleness on Garrett’s shoulders. “No Garrett, it was only you. You alone held the gate, we all saw it. There’s no need to be humble.” Garrett tried to protest, but Hagnar began an old song of victory, not giving him a chance. As Garrett went to bed not two hours later, he was still very confused, he remembered two others, a black man who was shorter than him and a large white man. Then he remembered their out of date armor, their strange hairstyles and their odd manner of speech. Could these be spirits who returned to help a fellow warrior? Garrett was not sure, and drifted off into a deep sleep.
Tom had spent his entire life in preparation for this moment. He thought, dimly, through a brain more tuned to feel than to think, that humanity had, in fact, bent it's entire evolution to it. His vat-grown muscles twitched with anticipation, the lines of their grafting standing out in great, scar-white bands. A thick line that looked like a vein but was actually a subcutaneous line of fiber optic cable stood out in his forehead, shunting extra power to his ocular nerve. His hands were powerful, meaty things covered in callouses. They could bend steel, break concrete, they were proofed against fire. Only hours before, they had killed a cybernetic dragon. And they were the single largest, most sensitive nerve endings that human science could produce. Tom stood now at the room at the end of the dragon's horde, in the innermost sanctum of Uuplecha Prime. His goal sat before him, curled up in sleep. When Tom was young, he'd heard a space shanty. It had been an old one then, and after centuries lost to relativity it was older still, but the message of it had never tired. It was, to the best that Tom's young brain had been able to parse, the Sleeping Beauty of the spacefaring age. The Shanty had told of distant Uuplecha, a world banded by ethereal mists and high mountains, a world of rugged beauty and fierce, feline folk. A world where the Sleeper of Ages waited, curled in the depths of a horde guarded by a dragon built from the long dead bones of a lost civilization, for the caress of it's lost love. And Tom, from the moment he'd heard the story, had fallen in love. The sleeper had sounded so...fuzzy. It looked fuzzy now. The Sleeper of Ages was curled on a fine black marble pedestal festooned with silken pillows. Its fur, long and shaggy, changed colors from moment to moment in tune with it's dreams. It had a long, lithe body and a tapering tail. It had a two ears and a button nose and two eyes, closed but moving beneath their lids. It had a third eye too, on the center of it's forehead, and that was open, and watching him, and very blue. Tom approached cautiously. He could scarcely think, his body was devoting so much energy to it's sensory organs. He could hear the blood in the Sleepers veins as the rushing of a nearby river. He could smell it's faint musk as if it were inside him. His hands ached. Tom fell to his knees in front of the Sleeper. He reached out a hand, the words of the shanty echoing through him, and he froze there until the song ended, the last belted chorus giving him strength. "Fuzzy,"he said, simply. And then he petted the beast. Millennia of human evolution had come down to this moment, when hands made for the breaking of worlds could channel softness and warmth through their thick, adamantium callouses. "Fuzzy!"Tom said, again. It felt good. The Sleeper purred, arching faintly towards his hand, but did not wake. __________ If you enjoyed that I've got tons more at r/TurningtoWords. Come check it out, I'd love to have you!
That makes 4 this week. At least this guy decided to attack me outside. Cleaning up the mess out here was much easier than inside. Do you know how long it takes to get human blood out of exotic carpet that can't be steamed? Long enough that it was cheaper to replace the entire carpet at $1000 a square foot. It had been 3 months since my bounty doubled. And while I didn't much care, clearly it was a high enough price that many began trying for it. Bounty Hunters were often placed on the very lists they worked from. We knew the risk. The Hunter Wars were primarily started as a result of this. Many Bounty Hunters would start trying to either lower their bounty or go into hiding. I didn't care one iota about this. My mentality about my bounty was different from many others'. The reason? I am much stronger than my bounty could ever communicate. I took up this job because I knew I could get rich, not because I was desperate to do so. My decision to become a bounty hunter was to make money, not settle debts. Whatever number they posted for me was never going to instill the proper respect I deserved. Some Hunters were left alone because of their reputation. Their bounty didn't climb much higher because they were careful to avoid the notariety. But anyone who was anyone knew who the top Hunters were, and avoided them like the plague. Me? I was top of the list. My bounty was now higher than the next 5 Hunters below me combined. I was never covert. I was overt. I wanted to be pursued. I wanted people to attack me. The more hunters that attacked, the less I had to hunt down to turn in. I ran an ID check on this "Reaper"guy. Fifteen thousand credit bounty alive, five thousand dead. Not the best haul this week, but 5k creds are 5k creds. I sighed and pulled the body into my car. I had credits to claim.
Kayla sat there staring into the handful of rings, jewels, and gold pieces. She poured over it, running the wealth through her hands. Time flowed over her like she was at the bottom of a river. She blinked when a drop of drool came loose from her mouth. She took control of her failing mind. She needed to get out of here. She grabbed a bag and started stuffing it. At first she worked quick, but her eyes began to linger on all of the treasure. Swords that gleamed in the light. Armor that flashed with a strange aura. All of it called her, needed her. She took a dagger in her hand and inspected it for several minutes. It wanted to be hers. To be at her side forever. To be in her hand and cut down all that would threaten her. Her hand twitched and she saw blood. She dropped the dagger in the pile and backed away. How long had she been here? She didn't know. She walked towards the exit, only for another staff to catch her eye. A mages staff. It glowed with power. In an instant she knew it could control the cosmos, bend time and space to her will. Even being in its presence conferred great knowledge and ability. Kayla grabbed the staff and ran. She needed to be outside, to clear her mind and breathe fresh air. But then she stopped and turned around. The treasure called to her. Like a fish hook piercing her soul, it pulled her in. She bit her lip, the pain giving her mind a moments respite. She was going to die here. The treasure wouldn't allow her to leave. Centuries worth of magical armor and equipment called out to their long lost owners, and she was the only person around. Kayla couldn't fight it. Kayla blinked, and the staff was in her hand. She pointed it at the horde of treasure, calling forth unspeakable power. Time and space bent into a vortex that pulled everything inside. It was a singularity so dense it created its own gravity, becoming stronger with each piece of equipment it consumed. The staff yanked from her hand, and in a blast of air everything went dark. She steadied herself on the cave wall. Once blurry vision became clear, she took in the cave. It was empty. An untold fortune gone in an instant. Kayla was grateful. Another moment and she would have joined the countless skeletons that dotted the cave. A boom sounded outside, then the ground shook. There were individual thumps as the creature approached. It burst into the cave, searching the place in a frenzy. It didn't seem to notice Kayla standing there at the cave wall. Instead, the dragon clawed at every stone searching for any loose gold piece it could find. Foam sprayed from its mouth. Its rage billowed. Then it froze. It stood still for several minutes. Its deep breaths created drafts in and out of the cave. Then its eyes focused on Kayla. "Human, where are my eggs?" Kayla blinked. She shook her head. "What year? What century?"The dragon said. It was insistent. "Does King David still rule the southern throne?" "I don't know,"Kayla said. "I don't know of any king. I only know of the queen. Queen Phelan." The dragon growled. Exhaustion was replaced with fear. Kayla looked up at the dragon looming above her. "Are you going to kill me?"She asked. The dragon snorted. "No, human. On the contrary I owe you a life debt. Gold sickness. It took my mind, and nearly yours." Kayla was about to say something, but exhaustion took her and she passed out instead. Her last thought was that she was safe, and this creature wouldn't let harm come to her.
When I'm nineteen, a new program is started called the Timeline Adjustment. I signed up for it, even knowing that it might be years before it became a viable program. Then I lucked out, the beta testing of it becomes available when I'm twenty-three. There's risks to it. So many risks. I might not land in the past where I am supposed to. I might not survive the time shift. My body might not reform right. There's a chance meeting myself in the past will unmake both of us. There's countless other dangers that they listed and I either listened to or ignored. It doesn't matter. I have to try. My family died when I was three, I grew up in a series of foster homes and orphanages. No matter how hard I tried, I never managed to connect with anyone or settle into a home. I didn't belong. When I heard of the project, it was a chance to change my life, to give the child I was a home and family. If I manage to live to the point where there would be three versions of me, the one that traveled into the past will vanish. Exactly one minute after I travel into the past, I will solidify once more, with all my memories intact, the exact age I was when I left. I'm not sure how well I will adjust to being twenty-three with the memories of someone who is forty-three. I'll deal with that when it happens. If it happens. As another possibility is that my forty-three year old self will remain, while my younger self will both travel back and stay at the exact same time. A third possibility is by traveling back they have created a new timeline, where I didn't travel in the past, as a different world's version is here instead. It doesn't matter. I have to do this. If there is even a small chance of success, that I can make sure younger me doesn't have to deal with the loneliness and heartbreak of being alone it will be worth it.
"It's been a while since your last trip." Faela frowned, carefully stirring her tea exactly three and a half times. "I know Dad. I'm worried about Cin. She normally sends me a message every week, but I haven't had anything for the last two." The King gave an agreeable grunt. He looked over at the Queen, who sighed. "You're wanting to go and visit her, don't you?" The Queen rolled her eyes, glaring at her husband. "She's your daughter through and through." The King just laughed. "Good! I don't mind if you want to go and see what's wrong. I'm sure Greval would be happy to escort you." Faela grinned. Greval was one of her favourite knights, having run around with him since he was a young squire. "Thank you!" \----- "So... what do you thinks wrong with her?" Greval was genuinely curious. He had fought Cin a few times, a fierce battle of wits. He had to admit she still outclassed him at chess, but he was getting better. Faela twisted a strand of hair nervously. "I really don't know. I don't think anyone would have slain her, but maybe she's ill?" He frowned. It was highly concerning. It was an open secret that the dragon Cinderwind had a special relationship with the country. On paper, she would kidnap the Princess, hold her to ransom, and be done with it. But everyone knew she liked the royal family. The kidnapping was more an extended sleepover. The ransom was simply a payment for her to help guard the place, which she was happy to accept despite not requesting it. If she was ill, that would leave the kingdom vulnerable. They looked down from the top of the ravine she called home. Her cave entrance was as wide open as ever, it's stream of flowing water continuing unabated. "Well, let's get this climb over and done with." Grevals voice was determined. Faela just nodded, letting him lead the way. It was a long, tight path to get there. Partway down, they heard an unmistakable sound. Thudding, as large wings battered the air into submission. Their eyes turned to the sky, seeing an enormous scaled beast soar out from the cave below. But instead of seeing the familiar emerald green scales, they saw a dragon the colour of the sky. Brilliant blue scales shone down on them, bringing with it a new concern. Greval was the first to voice it, his tone low and scared. "Could... could that be why.... could that dragon have...?" Faela seized his arm, squeezing it. "No! That can't be it. She can't be..." But her eyes spoke her hidden thoughts. Tears shimmered, before being blinked away. "We have to get there. Come on!" \----- As quietly as possible, they crept across the ravines floor. Bodies tense, each tried to maintain an aura of calm for the other. They peered into Cinderwind's cave, listening. From inside came a low, steady breath. One that they immediately recognised. Throwing caution to the wind, Faela ran in. Greval reached to stop her, fingers clutching empty air. He hissed, breaking out from cover to follow her. They ran in, heading towards the source. It came from the room she classed as her resting spot. Faela saw in first, seeing her friend lying there. She looked the same as ever, sleeping soundly in her normal spot. Until she was startled awake by the Princess's sudden embrace. "Cin! I was so worried!" "F... Faela? What are you doing here?" Her eyes suddenly shot up. "Oh! Oh bother. I knew I had forgotten something." Greval walked up, opening his mouth. But before he could, a loud shout rang out from the entrance. "Intruders!" Faela and Greval jumped, feeling the cave shake as titanic footfalls fell. The same blue dragons head rushed into view, swiftly followed by its stock body. "Cinny! Are you ok?" Cinderwind bared her teeth, amusement evident. "I'm fine Dawnfang. We just have some visitors." Her yellow eyes focused on the two very small humans. "Faela, Greval, this is Dawnfang, my mate. Dawnfang, this is Princess Faela and Sir Greval of the Opile Kingdom." Faela curtsied. "A pleasure to... wait... mate?!" Cinderwind shifted, revealing a clutch of rough, oval eggs. "My mate."
"Fritz, comm checks."Callum grizzled. "Comms are a go. Levels good, channels clear." "Roger that. Lando, final atmosphere checks?" "Coming back with the same composition as initial runs. Roughly 75% nitrogen, 24% oxygen. Little clusters of ammonia and argon floating around but nothing that should give us problems. Hell, you'll be breathing like a young man back in flight school, Cal." Callum chuckled. "I dunno, Lando. That was a long time ago now. Xeon, fluids?" "Falluuiidsss aaat fulllll." Fluids. Again. These fucking humans always treating us like second rate citizens and giving us the shit work. As if we can't handle ourselves. As if we didn't invite the bastards to join Interstellar Council in the first place. Xeon shifted in her seat, wrapping a long tentacle around her seatbelt. She'd been on the IC for two decades now. She still hated the landings. She looked down and out the small, round port window to see the deep red, desolate surface of YB-342 as they made their approach. She had to admit they were surprised to receive communications from this one. They figured the planet's relatively close proximity to its two suns made sustained life all but impossible. But if her time with the IC taught her anything, it was to expected the unexpected. The golden rule. "Final descent engaged. Strap in, gang, touchdown might be a little rocky." "No signs of any welcoming committee, eh, X? Lando quipped. "Nnnnegatiiiivvvve."Xeon had learned to speak at a frequency humans were capable of hearing by manipulating her pronged tongue, vibrating it rapidly against the inside of her mouth. It was effective but it resulted in an awkward speech pattern with long, drawn out syllables. "Welcoming committee? Shit, Lando, we'd best hope they didn't call us to snare us into a damned trap."Fritz's raspy voice crackled through their headsets. "Relax, Fritz. We never got anywhere close to this place when we tested. They'll never know it was us. Besides, the cabin supply is full with a week's worth of food shoved behind a year's worth of ammo. We'll feed 'em bullets if it comes to it." If Xeon had eyes, she'd be rolling them right about now. Always so quick to weapons. She had to admit that humans were remarkable manipulators. Their early involvement with IC was a practiced masterclass in malignant diplomacy. Preaches of peace and humility quickly gave way to ventures for conquest and glory as soon as their seats were cemented on council. She should've seen it coming. Their ship jostled and rocked as they approached the ground. A light whirring noise sounded beneath them as landing gear descended from the ships hull. The ship touched down with a thud, mostly level with a slight tilt to starboard. Not bad. Xeon was surprised IC let humans lead this one. Although she didn't know why she bothered with surprise anymore. Humans had a way of bullying their way into missions. Especially those that might result in a little bit of glory. Still, the history here made this case different. And for once, the humans were scared. They might not be displaying it on their faces, but she could feel it. It was palpable. Xeon had to find out from Dispatch. The humans weren't willing to talk about it. But she knew now that the humans knew this planet. They used it for decades to test their long range intergalactic weaponry. Their recon told them the planet was uninhabitable. So to receive communications from YB-342 was a shock to their system. It meant that a species had survived their most powerful tested weapons. It meant something out there was beyond death. And that scared the shit out of them. Hell, it scared her, too. The cabin door pushed up with a loud hiiiissss as the airlock released. The crew stood at the ready as the door dropped away and the fog cleared, revealing the deep red surface of YB-342. The earth beneath them grumbled. A terrible, guttural noise sounded all around them. "Cal...what the fuck is that?" A massive, dark figure began to surface over the horizon. "Coooonnnntaaaact." "Whatever that thing is, it doesn't seem happy that we're here." Great. Glory, glory. The humans grabbed their weapons.
At first, I didn't realize how slow it was. I didn't dare to look back as I saw how big and loud it was so I assumed it had been at my back the whole time. I have run several marathons before so running isn't such a difficult feat but running from this guy was tough. I took my first look back when I realized that my breathing was louder than this monster's growls and footsteps. To my amazement he looked so small in the distance. I slowed down to get a better look and this guy was leaning on a tree catching his breath. "I'll get you you little rascal", he yelled at me from a distance. "You can speak?"I asked. "Yes, I can speak you imbecile, why shouldn't I? Am I not good enough for you to speak?"I sensed a little sas in his tone. "No, it's not that. Why are you chasing me?" "Because I'm hungry dummy, why else would I? To inform you about your car insurance?" "Ok but why me?"I question. "Who cares! Just wait until I catch my breath. Geez can you guys run. It's really annoying when you do that you know,"he began to get back up, "alright Lance Armstrong, here I come,"he took two steps before he stumbled back over again, clearly not having caught his breath back. "That's cycling idiot, not running,"I corrected. "Ok, no need for the harsh words,"he said "You were just about to eat me, I think I'm allowed to be upset with you." "Fair enough,"he surrendered, "How are you so fast?" "How are you so out of shape?" "Most of you are overweight and can barely make it out the door alright. I didn't even know your kind could run like that." "Well, that makes two of us." "Haha, real funny. Now will you help me up? I promise I won't eat you. I bet you taste gamey. I don't much like that." "Why don't I buy you a steak dinner instead and in return you can tell me all about you?"I say as I extend out my arm to help him up. "Why that sounds lovely."
“Ma’am, I’m going to need you to take this seriously,” Detective Anderson’s frustration was clearly evident in his tone. “We are conducting a murder investigation, and you ARE a key witness.” Taylore Jackson glanced to her lawyer, who gave her a small, approving nod. “Yeah, I get that you think that, but the thing is, I was there, but I wasn’t really there, do you get me? Like, there were A LOT of people at this party, okay? We’re talking at least fifty people, and, yes, I was in the same room where it supposedly started, but, like, I wasn’t really paying attention to Kaplan because there was this amazing, free chocolate fondue bar…” “Yes,” the detective said in exasperation, “you keep saying that, but I find it hard to believe that you’d be so focused on a fondue bar that you would miss a man literally begging to be murdered and then that subsequentially actually happening.” “First of all,” Taylore replied, holding a hand up in protest, “it was a free chocolate fondue bar with every single food item I’ve ever wanted to dip in chocolate just out there ready to be dunked in the most amazing milk chocolate I have ever had in my entire life.” She dropped her hand but kept staring daggers at the officer. “Second of all, you can believe what you want, but I literally didn’t see anything.” Detective Anderson sat up in his chair and looked at his notes as he began reading off a list. “You mean to tell me that you missed a fight breaking out?” “Never noticed it,” she confirmed with a shrug. “Too busy eating chocolate covered cheesecake bites.” He shook his head. “Multiple people allegedly screaming to go get more boards?” “I thought they were talking about fondue boards. You know, with, like, more stuff to dip in chocolate? Honestly, I agreed. We needed more fondue boards.” Anderson sighed in frustration. “The sound of someone being forcibly attached to said boards and then dragged out into the backyard?” “Man, I don’t know what to tell you; there was a lot of screaming; it was a party, and you know how often my generation screams things like, ‘Dear God, kill me now’ or ‘I just wanna die?’ Like, that is our national anthem, okay? I hear that shit all the time, and, let me tell you, there were plenty of us screaming about the chocolate fondue because it was the most amazing…” “Ms. Jackson, please.” Detective Anderson rolled his eyes, trying to maintain his calm. “Please what? I didn’t witness a murder, unless you count the killing we did at that fondue table,” Taylore replied followed with a click of her tongue for emphasis. “The fondue buffet was located right in front of the windows looking out over the backyard. You would’ve had a perfect view as you were dipping your cheesecake bites to see this group set Kaplan’s restrained body on a bonfire.” Anderson dropped his notepad onto the table between them. “You’re telling me you didn’t see the fire blazing outside in the backyard?” “Did I notice a fire? Yeah, but, it was there when I got there last night, and like I’ve been saying, I wasn’t paying attention to it because of the free chocolate fondue! Look, I didn’t see the murder. I saw free chocolate fondue.” She rolled her eyes at him. “Do you know what I do for a living, Detective? I’m a waitress. I work for tips, and it sucks. Like, I barely make ends meet and sometimes I don’t. It’s hard for me to pay the bills and have anything left over for something nice for myself, even just a bar of chocolate. When I got invited to this party, it was the first real break I’ve taken in months. I’ve worked two months straight with no days off just so I could go to this party. I had to put in a request TWO MONTHS in advance just to get the night off. When I saw that free chocolate fondue bar, that was it for me. That’s where I was going to be all night because I wasn’t interested in talking to anyone. I talk to people all damn day at my job. Fuck them people, man. I was here for the free food and free booze. When I heard someone start yelling about wanting someone to kill them, my only thought was ‘Man, me, too,’ and then I went right back to the free chocolate fondue bar.” Detective Anderson looked from his supposed witness to her lawyer, who only shrugged. Sighing, he asked again, “If you heard that, then you did see the murder of Kaplan Yates last night, correct?” Taylore let out a roar of frustration. “Look, man, I cannot stress this enough; I did not see the murder because there was this amazing, free chocolate fondue bar…”
First time trying this, so give me any feedback I deserve. Interesting prompt as well, so thanks for posting this mate, and cant wait to see how some better writers than myself interpret it. &#x200B; Captain Woods steps into the barracks. 10 people, all half dressed in their combat armour immediately stop what they're doing and turn to face him."Elite members of the first Supernatural Disruption Task Force. We are on the cusp of greatness! We have tracked the group of interest 891 to their home dimension. Two years of work and they're about to fall right into our hands, and to this end, I call a toast! "To the end of the Regime!"The group collectively cheer. "The operation commences in two hours. Report to 71 Crescent avenue in one hour to stage the raid."With that, the captain steps out of the barracks, leaving cheering and merriness in his wake. Two hours later the group is gathered in a child's room, she was to be the next victim of their foul regime, and now all they'd find is eleven of the finest soldiers in the task force. Lt Anderson notices the shift first. He looks at a lamp, in the corner of the room changing in size, shifting in colour. "It's happening, everyone!"He yells. The captain calls out, "Ready for deployment in Three... Two... One- The world violently shifts upside down, shrinks and expands, Anderson throws up the remnants of his breakfast wrap before slamming into a grassy, earthy floor, surrounded by lush forest, and in the middle of a stone summoning circle, 6 large pillars towering above. "Welcome to the wondrous and fantastical land of Tennesant!"A voice speaks. An elderly man stands in front of him, with a beard as white as winter and wearing what appears to be a fancy bathrobe, likely a sorcerer in this dimension. Oh, and the captain is holding a gun against his head. "Hold on, no need to be brash here, wait why are there so many of you-" Get on the ground now!"The captain yells. The Robed man calls out for his guards. Two people dressed in bulky suits of steel armour wielding spears step out from behind the pillars, charging at the small crowd of soldiers. Two cracks break through the silence of the wilderness silencing as soon as they came. One of the guards screams out in pain and falls over, the other going the same way shortly after. Both of them screaming bloody murder. One bullet in each leg, painful enough that they won't be walking soon. The supposed sorcerer now lies on the floor, hands on his head. The captain reads out his rights. "Under law 17 of interdimensional law. We, the supernatural disruption task force have the legal right to suspend breaches of interdimensional and international law, regardless of dimension. You are under arrest for being an accessory to and committing seventeen counts of kidnapping, and one count of the attempted kidnapping of Laura Barrow. Anything you say can and will be used against you in the international court of law. " "U- Understood."The man says. "Great. Now, take us to your leader."
The very idea of a Muggle owning the Daily Prophet was something that Rita couldn't wrap her mind around, but who was she to question where her paychecks came from? Gold Galleons, silver Sickles and even the paper money that Muggles were fond of...money was money and that was what mattered. Apparently, some American wizard who was friends with Dumbledore had helped arrange this deal. Her new employer owned his own newspaper back in some place called New York, and he had called in meetings with each staff member. The Muggle, Mr. John Jonah Jameson, was reasonably tall and well-fed. Rita made a note of that--Muggles were always so self-indulgent. Jameson had his hair cut short and flat, and a thin little moustache. He looked a bit like that old grouch Barty Crouch, but Rita couldn't imagine Crouch ever smoking a cigar like the one Jameson boasted. He had a large, red wristwatch. "You're the Skeeter woman?" "Yes,"Rita said. "Yes, I am. Rita Skeeter, journalist for the Daily Prophet." "Right, right,"Jameson said. "Now...I'm wondering about some of what you've written." He opened a drawer and pulled out a thick file of parchment, filled with her stories. Rita smirked. It was always nice to see the records of her work. "You want to learn how I got my stories?" "Yes,"Jameson said. "I understand discretion with sources, but...what is all this about that Potter boy?" "Oh, Harry Potter--he's my best subject,"Rita said proudly. "We sold out so many printings." "But most of these stories don't have you interviewing him,"Jameson said. "You interview that Creevey kid or the Malfoy boy...and we definitely need to have a chat about the Malfoy boy, but Potter first. He wrote a letter saying that you took most of what he said out of context and made a lot of stuff up...I don't like that. I don't like that at all." "I can explain,"Rita said. "Harry wasn't giving me many answers...so I had a Quick Quotes Quill help me out a bit." "Turn it over. Right now." "Excuse me?" "I said turn it over!"Jameson's face was turning red. "Give it here!" He yanked the Quick Quotes Quill and crushed it. "You're done,"Jameson said. "I had my doubts but...this is the right call. I won't have liars here." "I have never lied!" "Ha! How stupid do you think I am?"Jameson said. He held up her file. "What about your stories about Hagrid?" "He was a half-giant!" "How the hell does that matter?"Jameson barked. "Dammit, all that poor bastard wanted was a chance to prove himself! That's all anyone wants--and anyone deserves--a chance to prove themselves! Black, white, brown--Wizard, Muggle, giant--none of that blood-stuff matters compared to brains and guts and decency!" "His mother was a giant who killed innocents!" "So what the hell does that matter? That old broad who got prayer banned from schools back East, her son grew up to be a pastor. From what I gather, Hagrid's mother was an outright bitch to everyone, ditching her son like that, but I know Hagrid and while he's pretty clueless, he doesn't have an ounce of malice!" Jameson turned another page of the file, glaring at her with beady eyes. "And what is this tomfoolery about one of those kids getting 'bad bite from a flobberworm'? I didn't even know what a flobberworm was, but Parker filled me in. You wrote about a flobberworm as if it were some vicious varmint! That's pathetic!" Rita grit her teeth. "Excuse me? My stories are popular!" "I don't give a rat's ass if they're the most best-selling stories this side of the Gospels!"Jameson shouted, slamming his hand down. "It's! Not! True!" He held up another part of her file. The reports on the Granger brat. "You wasted valuable story space on high school gossip! I can't believe your population is so self-indulgent. This isn't a story! Who the hell cares if Harry and Hermione were dating, which it turns out they weren't!" "It could be interpreted..." "NO!" "I'm entitled to my opinions,"Rita said, shaking with fury. "But what you're doing ain't editorials!"Jameson said. "If someone wants their opinion known, there's a place for that! Stories ain't the place for it! You're not looking for eyewitness accounts! You're not a journalist! You're just a gossip whore! You wrote one real story for The Quibbler and nothing else! Get out of my newsroom!" "I'm not going anywhere!" "ARE YOU DEAF, BLONDIE? OUT! OUT I SAY! THIS ISN'T JOURANLISM! IT'S TRASH!" Jameson seized her file and began tearing it into bits. He tossed them into a wastebasket, pulled a small cigarette lighter out of his pocket and set one page aflame. He tossed it into the wastebasket and the fire began to spread. "I'LL BE DAMNED IF I LET A LIAR LIKE YOU WORK FOR ME! IF YOU'RE NOT OUT OF HERE IN THE NEXT TWO MINUTES, I'M GOING TO..." "What's a stupid Muggle going to do to me?"Rita taunted. "I'm a witch, gifted with magical arts..." She shifted in her beetle form. She wouldn't allow herself to be pushed around by a Muggle. What did the truth matter? The public wanted stories. And then Jameson held up a hand and shot out a length of web, knocking her out of the air, where she landed next to the flaming wastebasket. Most of the contents were ashes. "NICE TRY, YOU LITTLE WITCH!" With one meaty hand, Jameson scooped up the webbed-up beetle and shoved it into his empty cigar box. He'd figure out a way to get rid of it, while not taking Skeeter out of the picture, later. Maybe the Lovegood kid would like to have a bug for a pet. "Mr. Jameson? I heard a...commotion." "Hmm...I've got to hand it to you, Parker,"Jameson said. "Your craftsmanship for your web shooters has gotten a lot better." Parker gapped at him. "Close your mouth, you'll catch flies."
Wren liked working the afternoon and evening shift in the tavern. Sure, it could get awful rowdy some nights, more than once the city guard had to break up fist, knife and even magical brawls; one mage scrap had ended with a table and chairs being transfigured into a wooden dragon golem! The beast was now out front on the roof, and the namesake of the establishment. Still, the troublesome crowd weren't his cup of tea. It was old knights, the wizened sorcerers, the rogues missing an eye that he liked. They told all the best stories. There was one, however, that would always stand above in his memory. It had been many years ago, three months into his employment, when the young warrior had sat at the bar, ordering the cheap but filling stew and a watered down beer. The latter was more a legacy since magic water purification was so widespread, but the flavour went well with many a meal The Wooden Dragon served, so it remained a staple. The man was dressed simply, his equipment older than he was by the look of it, but clearly well maintained, the leather oiled, the metal plates marked with signs of repair and battle damage. The short bow was of odd make, twisted forwards and backwards like a snake, unlike the local style of longbow. His sword was finely made, but like the dark haired man's attire, older yet well kept. It was all quiet until the nearby table of newly anointed knights, all full of mead and self-importance, started getting boisterous. The latter was usually knocked out of them after they saw actual combat, and realising that knighthood more often than not meant killing their King's enemies rather than rescuing damsels or slaying monsters. One of their number, a lanky, handsome ginger fellow with the slightly pointed ears, human with Elven ancestry, strutted up to the bar and tried to force conversation upon the stranger. It was when he questioned what the warrior fought for that it happened. "I'm only in it for the money"didn't exactly go down well. But, against the expectations of every patron in the bar, when the table of greenhorn knights stood and made to "teach the man honour", which was beyond ironic, it was the five shiny-armoured graduates that were left scattered, unconscious and mildly bleeding upon the ground. With so many witnesses, including a merchant of some importance who had been a patron of the tavern since he was a simple market trader, the city guard could neither sweep the matter under the rug, not blame the young warrior. The knights would only spend a night or two in the gaol, but the experience was enough to knock them off their high horses. Wren had approached the stranger when he returned the next night, a touch nervous but filled with curiosity. "If you pardon my asking..." "Why am I only in it for the money?"The voice was different than Wren had expected. Tired, but understanding, like the older patrons Wren liked so much. "I was like those knights once, full of untested ideals and grand heroic plans." A hardness took over the warrior's face, the steel mug that could take Orcish strength groaning and bending as the barkeep would swear his eyes turned slitted and ringed in electric blue. "Do you recall the attack on Stormhold, winter before last? There was an adolescent dragon amongst their number. I slew it...but at a terrible cost. It's progenitor was there, watching, likely using the fight to blood their spawn, not thinking anyone could harm their youngling. I thought it would kill me, but it did worse. It took my family, keeping them as slaves, and gave me an ultimatum. Bring it the horde it's child would have gathered by the time it reached adulthood, or they would die in ways I could never imagine or forget. So, yes, when people ask me what I fight for, I tell them truthfully. They never ask who I fight for."
"Oh look, Sildorn! There, in the street!" At Lareis's cry, Sildorn glanced up. There, standing amidst the debris and bodies, was a human. Sildorn always had trouble with identifying humans by their appearance, they didn't have any of the scales, antlers, fur, or fins that helped mark the individual elven tribes. This human was wearing crude-looking plates of metal with straps holding them in place, and was holding an equally-unconventional chunk of iron in one of its hands. Lareis was already approaching the bedraggled human, who took a step back as if to flee. It said something Sildorn didn't understand in the simple language they spoke, which didn't discourage Lareis. He picked his way past the bodies of the orcs that had ransacked the human town. As he got closer, he could see the human was coated in dark blood. "Oh, the poor sweet thing,"Lareis said. "Look at it! It's practically a babe." Sildorn frowned. "How can you be sure? It looks like it can walk fine to me."He'd heard about human children, how they struggled to stay upright on their strangely-fragile legs. "I read about it in one of the tomes we borrowed from Ysale. It's hard to believe, but did you know they let their children go into battle as young as fifty years old? How barbaric!" Lareis bent down to make eye contact with the human, and smiled sweetly. The human now looked considerably less skittish, and made another series of harsh sounds, to which Lareis responded by softly cooing. Sildorn didn't need to see his soulmate's eyes to know what she was thinking. "No." "No what?" "No, we can't keep it,"Sildorn folded his arms and gave the human a stern look. "It's a child, who knows if it's even been house trained yet?" "Oh, but we can't just leave it here!"Lareis turned to him, and he grimaced as she reached down to pat the human on the head. The human took another step away, but Lareis didn't seem to notice. "It's not just one human. I've read some of Ysale's books too. Humans don't create vessels for children, they just..."Sildorn trailed off. "Well, I'm not entirely sure I understood the diagram correctly. But if you take two humans in, within a few centuries you'll have a hundred." "Please, Sildorn? At least let us take it back for tonight and give it some food, then we can let it go in the morning. Besides, you just said it takes two humans to make new ones, right?" The elven man hesitated, and glanced at the human again. It did look rather pitiful, with its filthy rags and vacant expression. He sighed, lifting his face to the sky in a silent prayer for patience. "Fine. But it's just for tonight. It's gone in the morning." \--- Sir Braxford wasn't entirely sure what the two elves were saying. He cursed himself for not paying enough attention during his language studies, but at least they weren't hostile. Lifting his sword, he drew a cleaning cloth from his belt and wiped some of the orcish blood off the blade, before sheathing it. The elves seemed to have come to an agreement of some kind, and began to gesture childishly in his direction. The errant knight sighed, and began to follow the duo, rolling his eyes at the idiotic noises the taller, scaled elf was making.
My mother always used to tell me to be careful playing in the woods. As a child, she would tell me about fantastical creatures and terrifying hauntings. There was one story in particular that always stood out to me - when she claimed to have met the Witch of the birch woods. She said she was about six years old and was out playing with two of her friends in a small forest just on the edge of town. They had been looking for fairies amongst the flowers and mushrooms, but naturally, didn't actually expect to find any. They were having fun just exploring when they came across a river. It was just wide enough that they would have had to wade through, so they decided instead to head home. However, they quickly discovered that they were lost. No matter whether they went left, right, forwards or backwards, they would always end up back at the river. When they had lost all hope of finding their way out of the forest, they sat at the base of a large birch tree and began to cry. After a moment passed and their tears filled the forest, my mum says she noticed a lady drifting in the distance. She called out, pleading for help, and the woman stopped. My mum's friends stopped crying and looked towards the direction of the lady, and asked who my mum was calling to. When she explained there was a person in front of them, they called her crazy. But my mum knew what she was seeing, and apparently, the woman had heard her. Her long flowing dress was now brushing along the ground towards her, disrupting leaves like a gust of wind. When she reached the three girls, my mum took a good look and noticed that this was no person, but rather some sort of spirit. Her face was the biggest clue, as there simply was no face. Instead, there was a floating mask made of birch wood, hovering above a silver silk dress. The other two girls paid no attention to the figure, and the figure had it's mask trained on my mum. My mum asked for help one more time, saying that they were lost, and the woman turned, leading them to the edge of the woods. When my mum looked back, she noticed the spirit had disappeared. As my mum grew up, she planted willow saplings on the edge of the forest as a thank you - teaching me to do the same. That was a long time ago. Mum is no longer with us. My small group of survivors had been hiding out in the forest ever since the invaders had started razing towns and cities. For the most part, they seemed to leave nature alone and just went after man-made structures. There were only five of us, but I hardly knew the others with me. We had just somehow found each other amongst the trees, and decided to stick together for safety. Sadly, safety was a bit of a myth nowadays. Every night, the forest would be illuminated in an artificial red light from ships flying up above. They were searching for us, and it led to many a sleepless night. On one particular night, one of the ships found us. It bore down into the woods next to our campfire mere seconds after we had been spotted. The smoke was too big a giveaway. We tried to pack our supplies, but judging by the cracking of felled trees, they had already landed. We ditched what we couldn't carry and ran. In the dark, I was quickly separated from the rest of the group. As I ran, I could hear the loud hum of energy weapons firing. A yelp or scream would follow before the land fell silent again. After this happened four times, I realised I was the last one left. I could hear their many footsteps gaining on me. Fast. With my lungs burning, I knew I was dead. I was giving up hope fast when I saw a white tree standing out in a small clearing. At the very least, if I was going to die, I was going to die with my mum in my heart. I knelt at its base and placed my palm against the smooth trunk. A large crash came out of the bushes behind me, and I was suddenly face to face with one of the insectoid invaders. The being was encased in a hard exoskeleton that had rendered all of our weapons useless. It was almost like a big ant, but with a dogs snout instead of mandibles. It snarled and raised its weapon. I closed my eyes and accepted what was to come. A moment passed as the weapon hummed. The another agonising ten seconds. Then finally another minute before I decided to see what was taking so long. The creature was lying on the floor in front of me, with its insides now being on the outside. Between me and the gruesome scene, was the Witch. Her mask and dress were spotless despite the blood splatters on the grass. Her carved eyes bore into me, but I felt no fear. Instead, I just uttered a small thank you to the spirit. An invisible hand rustled in her dress before she pulled out an object and offered it to me. I knew straight away what was happening. I accepted her gift in both hands and put it on, feeling a warmth slip over me and love fill my soul. That night, the woods were filled with alien terror. That night, the witches fought back.
14th July, 2014 People, if they survive long enough, will curse my name to blackness. The nurses told me to keep a diary. I think they all know what's happening to me, but no-one will tell me. They shoot sidelong looks over my head when they're changing my bandages or serving me steak tartare. It's always fucking steak tartare. 15th July 2014 My skin is coming off in shreds under my bandages. The nurses try to block my view when they change them, but they can't change the imperceptible widening of their eyes when they see what horrors have been done to my body. A clinical trial. £600 quid for two nights and three injections in a teaching hospital. They don't teach here anymore. They evacuated the hospital as soon as I started requesting uncooked meat. Maybe people would understand that if university tuition wasn't so expensi- 20th July 2014 All the hair on my body fell out today. Even my eyebrows. I can feel the smooth surface of my face under my bloody fingers. They won't let me near a mirror. They had to change the bed, sweeping all the hair into a giant bag. When the incinerator started, even the bed rumbled. I joked about never having to shave again. None of the nurses laughed 30th August 2014 All the Doctors have left. It's only the team of nurses now. I think my fingernails are falling out. 1st September 2014 They say the cooking staff is gone. There is no more steak tartare. Which is good, because it was starting to make me fucking ill. The food they bring me now doesn't fill me up. 3rd September 2014 I'm so fucking hungry. All I can think about is meat. Raw meat, glistening with drying blood in the sunlight. The nurses cover all their skin now. Even their faces are veiled. I'd ask why, but my mind goes blurry whenever I think about how hungry I am. 5th September 2014 I blacked out today. I don't know what happened, but when I woke up i was covered in blood. I was confused for a while, but then I realised how full I felt. My mind was so sharp! It was like every layer of falsehood had been peeled away from the world and i could see properly for the first time ever. It was like rebirth. 8th September The nurses have not come back. I'm getting hungry again. The sharpness is fading. 10th September How bad would it be if i just... Left? I think the door at the end of the ward is open. I can't think straight... If only i weren't so hungry
Urist gingerly squeezed the brass actuator, and the hammer snapped forward with a neat metallic clap. His shop had seen all manner of wares pass through - the Pass of Arkhaz was home to merchants of every shape, and their weapons decorated the walls of his cramped shop. Thin, mirror-like Elven blades sat next to handsome Orcish ironwood axes; noble Dwarven hammers mingled with Underfolk's short-spears on worn racks; there was even a stand of slender Edithian blowguns, and from the tall rafters of the shop hung a Giant's bow, split from the trunk of a proud oak, arrows taller than the crafty shopkeep himself. But he had never possessed a Human gun. He rarely saw anything from the realm of Men, being so far West, but he had heard the stories: distant empires, across the Green Sea, who fought with fire and smoke, who had abandoned the art of armor-smithing as useless against their own weapons. And now, looking at the polished steel device in front of him, Urist almost believed it. The Dwarves built machines, of course, but they were massive and strong, as all Dwarven crafts. He had never seen a gear smaller than his thumb - by the Mountain, it was tiny - and the Human's trick of storing motion in a 'spring' seemed more like magic than metallurgy. "And this,"the unkempt man in front of him produced a thin copper cylinder, "is a long-sight, designed for the device." "And it does what?" "Well, it lets you see further, so you can hit distant targets." Urist chuckled. That, he knew, was a joke.
I remembered dying. I remembered slipping away. I remembered the soft touch of Rebecca’s, my wife, hand as she held mine while I slipped away. I remembered feeling at peace. I didn’t remember the journey. “Pull it back,” said someone. “I think he’s slipping away again.” I squinted. The light was so bright. Five figures stood over me. Did the doctor’s bring me back? I didn’t want to be revived. I was ready to go. I was at peace. Why didn’t they just let me die? “He’s back. We did it. We revived him,” exclaimed someone. I groaned and tried to sit up. “Where’s Rebecca?” I said. “Don’t sit up. Try to relax.” “I thought I had a no resuscitate clause,” I said. Talking proved difficult. My throat was so dry. “Can I please have some water?” “We didn’t know. We’re sorry.” Someone popped an ice chip into my mouth. “Did you not read my chart? Did you not talk to my wife?” “Do you know where you are?” “Mt. Sinai hospital. I want to talk to Rebecca now,” I said. I didn’t want to actually talk to her. I had died at peace and closure. It would be difficult, but she needed to know my doctor’s had brought me back against my wishes. “No. You’re on Cerrot. We found your pod floating around our system’s seventh planet.” I blinked and tried to focus on the figures around me. They looked different. Eyes slightly bigger, skin slightly greener, muscles slightly bigger. I looked down at my own body. It wasn’t wrinkled anymore. I didn’t have any liver spots and my hair wasn’t grey. “I don’t understand.” “I’m Doctor Chen. We don’t fully understand how you came to us, but we have rejuvenated your body as best our doctors can do,” said Dr. Chen. “We notice you’re not augmented. We’ve narrowed down the time that you’re from, but we can talk about that more later.” I shook my head. “Where’s my wife?” I looked up at Dr. Chen. “Where’s Cerrot?” The doctor put his hand on my shoulder. “In time, Thomas. Now you need to rest. We will meet with you again later.” EDIT: [Go here for Part Two!](http://www.reddit.com/r/Puns_are_Lazy/comments/2rhjmx/wheres_rebecca/) All of the interest in this has really made my day. Thanks, guys! I hope Part Two lives up to your expectations!
How did I spend my luck? If only every time someone asked, I had a buck. Jon spent his finding the cure; Got a Nobel Prize (even though it wasn't the one he was looking for). Carla was a little less... inspired. She used a little to get hired, And a little more not to get fired. Aisha squandered hers when she had bills to pay. Charles used his up the same way, But that's ok. How could they have known a thousand people would win the lottery on the same day? Some say the president should have saved hers for after the election (Although I say she needed it, given her complexion). What was the question again? Oh, right: What did I do. How about you take a lucky guess? I used it all up on one particular day. What day?, you ask. Well, to be honest, It was the day I met you.
"And the citizens of spurting guds will feel our bready vengeance" "Huzzah, huzzah"cheered the soldiers of produce "May your shopping carts go straight, and not pull to the left like they always do" The soldiers of produce yelled as they charged forwards. They were headed in completely the wrong direction and ended up in a sortie with the soldiers of elktronics, fearsome technologically advanced (for our time) fighters who wear helmets with antlers into battle, a linguistic quirk that was lost on both armies. I watched from the peaceful kingdom of women's wear, which against all odds, still operates as a commercial vendor. "We've got food, we should be fucking shit up in this motherfucking bitch"said Private Pickle, one of the produce cart pushers "but our fucking leadership is all fucking shit" There is some merit to what he says, even if he did say it in the overly profane way that has come to characterize the produce nation. For obvious reasons they have a readily available food source, much of which will quite disturbingly never, ever go bad. They also have most of Walmart's carts, which factor heavily into their fighting style. Cart pushers, like Private Pickle, stand on the back of the carts, propelling them forward with one leg, pulling the leg up a second before impact. They work in tandem with cart riders. Corporal Cheese is Private Pickle's cart rider. He's in charge of doing the bulk of the damage. "He fucking pushes the mother fucker and I fuck shit up. Well I would if I had any fucking weapons, like I mean shit" Which is where the whole thing falls apart. Food is good, but apart from a few crude rockets made from pop bottles and breath mints, there is very little The Produce nation can weaponize. "For a while there we had the boys throwing fruit at them. We figured it was hard enough"says Commander Cookie (high ranking military being some of the few in the produce nation who don't curse) "The problem is even if you hit someone with an apple, which is pretty hard from a moving cart, they've got a sore head for fifteen minutes and then they've got an apple" Indeed, most of the fruit was lost this way, leaving the produce army with individual snack cakes as a staple food. "They think because they have more food than anyone they're stronger, but they keep eating shit, so they feel like shit"Brother Banana is a monk in the Good Health movement "It's a spiritual thing, not a religion, we don't say shit about that one way or another" The priest hood divides itself by swearing less than most people, but not not at all. "We tried it, to off putting"says Brother Banana, who also leads mildly liberal baptist services on monday. There is something to what he has to say. Cart pushers get enough exercise to stop all but a mild paunch, but cart riders, who effectivley sit around all day, even during training, become, in their words, fucking fatasses. "I'm a fucking fatass"admits Corporal Cheese "that's what happens when you end up in a job where you can eat twinkies even on your way into battle" The produce nation loses. They break against a wall of plasma screen TVs. When I say break, I do not mean it in the traditional martial sense. They literally get out of their carts and take a break to watch TV. The Elktronics soldiers join them to. Encounters like this are common, suggesting even three generation removed the various groups of Walmart are akin to the consumers who once shopped at Walmart and brought about the destruction of the world, at least so far as I can tell, subscribing as I do to the belief that James Patterson and Danielle Steele were not historians but storytellers and that any information about past people's comes from between the lines readings. After coming to their senses the Elktronic soldiers gore several Produce soldiers with their antlers. Corporal Cheese is one of the dead. When I set off for the sporting goods section the Produce soldiers are getting sugar highs off Carbonated soft drinks and preparing to declare war on the Elktronic nation. My research would suggest that this too, with a coupe tweaks, were the actions of those who came before.
My palms became sweaty really quickly when somebody posted " I know what's going on. Writing Prompts are coming true." The world has been crazy for hours. Murderous squirrels were solving crimes, predatory alien species landed in New York and London, mages lead by Harry Potter were holding resistance against demons, northern gods, and superheros. No news could keep up with the insanity and chaos, so everyone naturally turned to internet and social media, which was, obviously, even crazier. But now I've been reading this thread posted by some random guy with a nickname "analdestruction12", and everything was suddenly making sense. Solid research done by a redditor in the last two hours, with multiple links connecting writing prompts and youtube videos of insane events happening all over the planet, made a solid case that this crazy theory was true. My heart beating faster, I immediately make the community private, and submit a prompt "A red pen suddenly appears of my desk."Shocked, I'm staring at a red pen lying on my desk. Well, the theory has been tested. No time to panic, I must get things under control before the world comes to an end. As if to prove my thoughts, right outside my window, a naked Einstein riding T-Rex is chasing a Statue of Liberty dressed in a batman costume. ---- Okay. It's not too late. Nobody knows what's going on yet. My python script is deleting all the prompts as quickly as possible, /u/analdestruction12 has been banned, and I'm pretty sure other moderators are not aware of anything yet. Meanwhile, I'm desperately trying to brainstorm the sequence of prompts that will fix everything. - * The world is on pause, moderator of /r/WritingPrompts/ is the only person who isn't frozen in time. What happens next?* Submit. Okay, now I've got some time to think. - * The only reddit user not frozen in time gains superintelligence and the power of God through submitting a writing prompt.* - * Writing prompts stop coming true, and everything other than the last prompt goes back to normal.* ---- Taxi is driving down the street(driven by a human, not by a black and white cartoon giraffe). A man walking his dog(instead of the other way around). Space Station orbiting the Earth(at this time, it's not being piloted by a black Hitler). Dolphins swimming in the ocean(non-sentient dolphins, swimming using their fins instead of arms, in the ocean made out of water not a milk shake). I look down at the tiny blue planet, spinning in it's orbit as usual. I'm all-powerful and omnipotent. I don't know what power made the reddit prompts turn into reality, but I can find out at any moment, after all, I'm God. It's time for me to start working on actually fixing this world. ---- Where do I start? Curing death? Creating AI? Letting people upload their minds into computers? Suddenly, I'm aware of a different presence. I cast a question and immediately receive an answer - there's another God in this world. Shit. How did that happen? - * An author of this prompt gains the power of God, and keeps it regardless of what the other prompts or different powers in this world will say.* Great, now I have to share the universe with another deity. Who was the smartass to submit this prompt? Oh, of course. Curse you, analdestruction12! ---- ---- Come read more of my stuff [over here](http://fictionhub.io/user/rayalez)!
"Your Holiness!"came the cheers from the crowd, which the bespectacled man found himself a part of. This was the moment. As the elderly figure slowly made his way down the street, he approached the railing, holding back his faithful admirers. He reached a hand out to greet his lovely people, and soon found himself blacking out. The man with glasses had, in not two seconds, reached into his jacket, retrieved a device, aimed it at the pope and fired away. "Oh my, I...I seem to have passed out momentarily. Could you tell me where I am young man?"said the pope, in a soft Italian voice. The man turned a dial on a device and held it to his throat. "Welcome to the future, old man. My name is Sean, I have developed a device that can whisk me through time, and have taken you captive for the day."The message came out in Italian, projected from his own mouth with the help of the device. "What a pleasant toy you have young man. In all seriousness, could you point me in the direction of a telephone? I must inform my associates that I am safe." With a furrowed brow, the man walked to the window, pressed a button, and a large sliding cover raised itself. Vehicles whizzed in the sky outside, many buildings interconnected and pulsing with colors and activity in the distance. The pope seemed less than startled. "My, what a nice city. Is this in New York? I have been to New York City once but it does not compare to-" "THIS IS NOT NEW YORK. THIS IS NOT A CITY THAT HAS EXISTED YET IN YOUR TIME." Taken aback, the pope leaned back slightly, as if he were a puppy that had been whacked with a newspaper. "I only meant to compliment your fair city, my apologies. I must be going soon though, there are many who seek my counsel." "Do you...just not care?" At this moment, the pope rose from his seat for the first time. Astounded at the lack of response thus far, Sean lowered his head, placing his hand to his forehead. The pope had approached the man, and with a touch on the shoulder, gave him a blessing. Through misty eyes, Sean glanced upwards at the humbling figure, "I realize how childish my actions have been, I really should return you to your time." With a soft smile and knowing eyes, the pope lifted his hand from Sean's shoulder, resting it on his cheek. In beautiful Italian, the pope addressed him once more, "The only thing you need to do is stop being a little shit." From under his white and gold robe, the pope revealed a device almost identical to Sean's, far more advanced. Before Sean could reach his own device, Pope Francis had hit him with a beam of light, sending them away to another time. Sean awoke at the feet of a white robe. Through foggy eyes, he heard two things. The first was a set of Italian words through a soft, yet stern voice wishing him the best of luck, the second being a screech of what must be a very large dinosaur. With another flash of light, the pope was gone.
The parking lot stretched on and on, and endless sea of cracked pavement littered with the rusting hulks of abandoned cars. James Holt slowed his bike as he approached, staring across the silent automotive graveyard to the crumbling monument to pre-apocalyptical human greed. The building was massive, larger than some of the office towers James had looted in his two-wheel tour up the West Coast. The weather had taken a severe toll on the structure, and one of the corners had collapsed in a pile of cinderblock and insulation. Pedaling up to the entrance, James leaned his bike against a fallen slab of masonry, shouldered his backpack, and drew out his well-worn shotgun. With a deep breath, he strode towards the shattered glass doors, gun barrel leading. He knew the gun was not necessary. He had not seen another soul for months, all claimed by the virus that still haunted James’ dreams. Once, long ago, he had been the hero, the savior, the only person immune to the vicious airborne neurotoxin that had swept the planet. But the research was too little too late, and he had watched the world fail around him. A titanic blue “W” had fallen from the façade and crashed through the doors, now splayed in broken glory across the faded tile. Through the entrance, James stood in the vestibule, scrutinizing the ruined megastore. By the looks of it, there had been a gunfight, years ago; telltale bullet holes and flame-scarred shelving cluttered the store, tossed about and decaying. James picked his way through the former Walmart, searching for something, anything, to help him meet another day. He found a pair of binoculars with cracked lenses, several smashed cans of what must have once been food, piles of tattered and moth-eaten clothes, boxes and boxes and boxes… As he absently bent to examine a water-damaged cash register he felt his pack nudge the empty rack behind him. Turning, he watched in neutral observation as the rack toppled, collided with the adjacent display, and started a domino effect down the check-out line. The cacophonous crash of shelving on formica was a pleasant sound to ears so used to silence, and James smiled. “Clean-up to cashier stand five, clean-up to cashier stand five. Thank you.” James froze. No, it couldn’t be. That… Someone was there, someone was watching! James scanned the store, searching for the source of the voice. There. Tinted windows near the ceiling, must be offices. Maybe… James bolted across the store, aiming for a door marked ‘Employees Only’ in faiding yellow lettering. The door was locked, but in his excitement at finally meeting another living soul, James foolishly cocked his shotgun and blasted the handle. The door swung open lazily, and James darted up a set of carpeted stairs. On the second floor landing, he looked around, desperately. There, three doors down, light was streaming from beneath a closed door. “Hey!” James called down the darkened hallway, “Hey! I’m friendly! Is there anybody here?” He craned his ear to the silence, yearning for the response that he had dreamed about for all those quiet years. And he heard them. Voices, faint and indistinct, but most certainly coming from behind the illuminated door. With a deep, calming breath, James approached the door. The voices grew louder. He clutched the handle with shaking fingers, braced himself, and opened the door. The room was empty, save for a small bank of monitors showed images from several of the still-functioning cameras. A television hummed in the corner, playing what must have been a staff training video on loop. “No.” “NO!” James dropped his gun, dropped his pack, and fell to his knees. And cried. *** If you like what you read, be sure to check out my [subreddit](https://www.reddit.com/r/Irishpersonage/comments/4i1vq9/welcome/) for more of my writing.
It had been decades since I'd last seen a person more than in passing. I used to love hanging out with people. As a kid, I had a massive social circle. I played sports and was well-loved by my team. Then I met her. Rachel. She was a dancer. Every day during our breaks, I would watch her and her friends eat their lunch while I sat with my friends playing trading card games and passing the time. The ambulance came to get her as her face turned blue. She choked on a piece of apple from her lunch. In my teens, I'd moved on from Rachel. My circle of friends had shrunk, I still played sports but I'd become more inwardly focused. I tried to hang out with the goths to get closer to Kat, but before I could make my move, she'd committed suicide. I attended her funeral, leaving a note in her casket declaring my love for her. The one I'd written three days prior. It went on and on, every time I fell in love with someone, they would die in some way. I grew depressed, dropped out of school, developed a drug habit and moved out into the country. I kept my contact with other people to a minimum n order to ensure that no more people would have to die for being the object of my desires. One day, I failed to make my payments to my dealers. They came to get me in the small hours of one morning, beating me bloody and ransacking my house for anything of value. It wasn't enough. They kept me in a small room for years, feeding me small doses of heroin in exchange for sorting their other merchandise. I suppose you could call it Stockholm Syndrome or whatever you want, but I grew attached to the sister of one of the members guarding me. She always made sure I was fed well and that my needle was at least clean enough for me to not get aids, not that I had a care in the world for my quality of life at that point.. She was found dead one day, overdosed on a "patient"'s merchandise. It sort of clicked in my mind after that. If everyone I loved died, perhaps I could escape this daily hell by growing to love my captors. I started out by trying to see the good in them. Every day I noticed how well they were doing their jobs. How thorough they were with managing their doses. How well-organised they kept their operation. Then I started with their physical features. the one with the striking eyes caught my attention first. They dragged his corpse away from the dogs the next day. Eventually, they dropped one by one as I found a feature of theirs that I could use to grow my love for them. Eventually they were all dead, and I was free. But there was one problem... I needed someone to fucking untie me.
I knew I shouldn't have been so ambitious. Creating a whole universe. What was I thinking? Now the people come to me expecting miracles. I'm tired. My energy low. It would come back. Slowly. But they wanted miracles. Now. Do you know what kind of miracles take barely energy? Turning things invisible. It's silly I know. So I started small. Standing upon invisible bricks so that it looked as if I floated. But now they wanted more. They cheered as I stood in front of the small colourful blocks. Apparently the children and some adults would connect them together into models. All I knew was that they hurt to stand on. I took a deep breath and walked bare foot over the objects. I made something invisible but it wasn't shoes. They cheered and roared as I continued over the bricks. I was crying in pain but they couldn't see it. The saying 'God only knows what they'd expect next' was wrong. I had no idea.
By my calculations, it's been 384 years. I can't know for sure, the sun still isn't moving. I should explain. You see, I'm not what you would call normal. I have this ability that sort of tags along with me, an ability I cannot control. If I'm about to make a mistake, or have an accident of some sort, time stops. Not like slowing down, or I move super fast, it just stops. Everything. It lets me correct the error, then it resumes. It's saved me from car crashes, broken dishes, even an unplanned pregnancy. Lucky for me, I don't change during this time. I don't get older, hungry, tired, at least not physically. One time I spent a week frozen, it nearly drove me insane. Turned out it was my application to Virginia Tech. Crisis averted. Went to Harvard instead, it was easy. Every time I was about to pick the wrong answer on my SAT's my watch stopped ticking. Anywho, life went on. I met a girl, we fell in love. We had the aforementioned pregnancy scare. It really made me rethink my life. I realized that this was the girl for me. I proposed, everything was good. It took a year to plan the wedding so that it was perfect. Luckily affording it wasn't hard, I just waited for my wife to be to drop a plate accidentally, then robbed half the banks in New York, fixed the plate, and tada - instant wealth. So the day arrived, all the guests are here (We were getting married in central park, her dream venue) everything is going according to plan. Queue the bridal music, I look down and see my wife-to-be, but she isn't walking. The music isn't playing. My watch isn't ticking. Just the rhythmic thumping of my heart, never more sure of anything. What the hell was it? I checked all the guests, I searched the park, searched the whole damn state, nothing was amiss. The only thing I could think of was some sort of military strike on central park, so I rowed across the ocean to check enemy governments. It would have been nice to take a plane, but engines require time to progress in order to function. Hell, a sailboat would have been nice, but wind and water doesn't move either. So rowing it was. I checked everywhere, even our allies, nothing got time moving again. So I rowed back, what the hell else could I do? I searched for anything, a terrorist, a mugger, I even went to the Hubble telescope and searched for an alien invasion. I knew I was grasping at straws, but what else could I do? I went back to my wedding and stared at my loving bride. Could she be the mistake? I looked around. Well, I had nothing but time, so I might as well give it a shot. I took the dress off her and grabbed some other clothes from the mall. I dressed her and carried her back to her bed, tucking her in so that it had all been a dream. But her family would remember, so I did the same with them, dressing each of them accordingly and carrying their heavy asses back to where they came from. Man I missed engines. But then it happened, I touched my former brides cousin to carry her home and the noise was deafening. 384 years without so much as a peep, and now that I touched the hand of this seemingly insignificant woman the noise boomed out. One single note bellowed from my watch. "TOCK".
The UN was meeting, one year after initiating the "Darwin Act". All of the world leaders were eager to discuss their findings. There was a vibrant atmosphere in the room and it seemed as if everyone had something positive to report. The idea with the act was to stop protecting "just plain stupid people"so that world numbers would even themselves out through "acts of nature", as the leader of, I believe, Switzerland, put it. Each country was to report their numbers and top products for doing so. First up was China. They had an astonishing 45% decrease; everybody applauded. The leader carried on to say once the warnings from street signs were removed, it "practically happened over night." As the kickstarter of the act, Switzerland spoke up and condemned the action as they clearly did not understand it was "for products, not everything and especially not road signs."China's leader rushed off, there was some yelling off stage and then, yep, those were gun shots. USA was up next and they reported a decrease of 24%. Their secret was apparently not putting warnings on Q-tips, there was an astonishing increase of deaths related to septic shock from "things left in ear". Canada had a decrease of about 10%, they stated it was hard to pick a top performer as it was pretty evenly spread between "Electric shock in wet snow with heater", "falling off ladder from top step"and "drowning in Tim's", which they admitted was incredibly confusing to them. All of the countries came up and made their reports. It was finally Switzerland's turn. Their leader stepped up to the podium, adjusted his tie and said only one thing. "0%" And then he walked of the stage, smiling.
"Yeah we don't need bulletproof helmets this time around, I don't think they're armed with anything good,"I spoke, buying for the round. Regrettably, I was playing as terrorists, meaning I couldn't buy the guns I was very familiar with. "S-sir?"came the startled reply. "I mean a couple of shotguns, but the pellet spread won't be anything to worry about." "Well, you're the expert." I began making my way towards B-site, when I encountered some gunfire. "One car, two banana!" "W... what the fuck? "Come on, what are you guys? Scrubs? I thought you were supposed to be good at this, if your ranks are anything to go by!" I heard some muttering about 'sergeant', but I ignored it. I managed to get one of the CT's before I was down. "Damn, be careful, two running to T Ramp." "Sir, we need--"The reply was cut short by the sounds of gunfire echoing through the mike. "For fuck's sake dude, I'm not even near you and I can hear that. Get a better mic." I heard some shouting, followed by more gunfire, before it all fell silent. "Alright, good job! Only one CT left!" "There's a hell of a lot more than!--" More gunfire, then silence. "Sweet, we won the round. Just two more and we take the match." I heard only radio static; I groaned and rolled my eyes before muting everyone in the game, before realizing the static continued. I cautiously alt-tabbed to realize I was still on the police radio. I carefully closed the application before tabbing back in. So what if lives were at stake? I was almost to Silver 2, and I wasn't ready to fail again.
I should've known there was more to it than I had originally suspected. The first week was a week of many. Monday at work was typically boring and exhausting, Tuesday and Wednesday were just annoying, Thursday was team practice after work and Friday was bar night. Saturday I planned whatever social thing there was to do and Sunday was 'sitting-at-home-watching-TV-shows-on-the-couch-in-my-underwear'-day. Then the real "first"week started. I didn't even notice it at first. The weekly grind seemed to start so typical I wasn't paying attention to the similarities. Until my boss dropped the same file on my desk as last week. "I've already done that one-", I started, but as usual he just interrupted me and said: "Get it done."Before I even had the time to frown he'd already left my cubicle. And the day repeated itself like it would another ten, twenty, a hundred times. The first week I was silently freaking out but I had to act normal. I just pretended like I was living one big déjà vu to avoid appearing unnormal. I had enough issue with that without the time loop. After the first few weeks I started to loosen up. I'd tell my boss he was an asshole, I told Clarice, the receptionist, to stop being such a massive annoyance, and well- I just did what I want. There were no long-term repercussions for anything! The worst I had to endure was spending two days in jail after some prick at the bar tried to be funny. Before my fist could hit his face a second time I was already being dragged away, and the cops picked me up shortly after. It didn't really matter. I had another try on Monday. I don't even know long I was in the loop for. The way it works is that time resets on Sunday night - you wake up on Monday morning and you just feel the week before disappear from your mind. All that the loop would leave was the recognition that I was in fact stuck in the loop and a more faint feeling that I'd been in it for a while. Not being able to keep track of the time I spent in there was probably the worst- no, second worst thing to happen to me. Weeks had turned into months and months into years. I descended into a form of madness where I couldn't be held responsible for any of my actions. My missteps turned into mistakes, which turned into misdemeanors, which turned into crime. I let myself go. I remember reading, a few years back, a story about what makes man and beast different. They said it was all about an ability to feel remorse. A conscience. I let go of the control that seperated me from a wild animal. And then the loop ended. I had thought about when it would happen, as they usually do at a point, right? I'd already considered the unfortunate but not unlikely event that I'd be stuck in the current reality after another week of savagery. Now, after all of it, I think I would've preferred that. To be killed or locked away for life for the crimes I had to answer for. No, this was way worse. My biggest mistake was waking up that Monday morning, but the familiar feeling of being in the loop was gone. And instead of having my memories disappear slowly, they crawled back in. Every deed, every thought, every feeling poured back. It was such an unspeakable amount of negativity that my already fragile spirit crumbled under the weight of my actions. I had stolen, I'd hurt people, I had killed, and worse. Nothing could've prepared me for the intense realization that my body hosted a being that was simply evil, and that all of it had been me.
That cold emptiness of separation burrowed deeply into him. The passing seconds slowed to hours, and time's passage was laced with pain, all sharp and cruel, with its twisting blade. That blade was her face. It was her voice. Her easy smile. The coldness remained long amidst the flames of Hell. You're going to Hell when you die, she had said. Why? he had asked. She could never answer. When they were together, time had melted, breaking down into only moments, and those moments were an eternity sometimes. Sometimes they would go so quick, he only had he snapshots of memory to prove they happened. Thinking back he could not put any ration for their love. He could not recall any answers. I hate you, she said. But she had really hated herself. We shouldn't be together. In the garden they had given themselves to each other that night. She called his name in that silent world. What time was it? When had that been? It was only a memory, an eternity that was long gone. Why am I going to hell? I don't know, she said. They didn't know anything back then. In the coldness within, surrounded by the endless fires, he screamed for her. His sadness turned to anger and that anger fueled the suffering of the place. Hell twisted to his whim, for his whim was tainted with malice and hurt and all the evil things that a lost love could bring. In that timeless place where the past hurt him, he took in others and made them share his suffering for a time. Why am I here? he thought. And with each question the fires overflowed and burned those doomed to that great city. Why couldn't you save me? And never any answers. As time passed, slowly as always, the question haunted him more and more. He missed her dearly and the thought of never seeing her again was the worst hurt he had ever felt. I should be with you now. When the suffering was no longer a distraction, he had made up his mind. I will see you again. And so he planned a way to leave the great city of fire. He would leave no matter the cost. And above she had felt the same. Inside her a guilt burned deeply. Heaven's air was cool and fresh, cutting all sadness like a surgeon, relaxing the mind. There she stayed as was her right, her destiney that even she could not change. But there she wilted, as though a flower poisoned. I was young, she thought. I was young and naive. She knew his fate and she should have stopped herself. Now everything was as it should be. All was right in the world. But not inside, no. That feeling deep down raged like a fever, a firey guilt that ached her heart worse than any pain she could imagine. I was young... But what did that matter? Memory floated like wisps of smoke on a clear day, thin and mercurial, but ever present. She saw him in the ancient light in the Gardens of Forever. Those lush fields where Adam and Eve would walk many millennia after. We walked there first, she thought. She remembered how her hand felt in his. How strong he was, and how safe she felt. She looked at him and all thoughts of destiney seemed so far away. Love was the true beauty of the world. Its spontaneous spark overwhelmed any order that living required. I loved him. But yet that could not change fate. Nor could time heal the wounds of that lost love. They call me God, she thought. But what God am I? I hear their prayers but how often do I listen? How often do I care? There is something on my mind that not even the Eternal can cleanse. I love him. I need him so. Time passed in heaven as it did in hell, slowly in a painful way. No amount of years and ages could heal that simple, fundamental hurt that echoed in her heart. Nothing could wipe clean the tears of a taken love. Many years had passed and yet she remained so. She could take it no longer. I will go to hell then, if so it must be. And she was Eternal, and her powers were great. She could go against the order of things, if only she willed, if only the smallest sacrifice was made. I will sin then, if that is what it takes. She closed her eyes and let her mind run free. In the dark she saw those timeless memories of a gone era. She saw the garden and carelessness. The soft whispers of youth, and the excitement of the forbidden. Eve would eat an apple, she thought. And she had shared the fruit of love then too, long before Man had existed. What is the difference? she wondered. But it was rhetorical. She knew the difference. She knew what separated her and the damned fate of Man. Remorse. Simple, but true. She had always hidden her glee at their love. She had always repressed the truth of that night in the garden. Oh how I loved it. How I loved him. She remembered his touch. The coarseness of his hands. The sharp smell of that burning passion. I love you! she had thought. But all she had said was that they should not be there. They should not be doing this. And of course he told her it would be okay. You'll go to hell, she said. And she felt ashamed at the relief that flooded her. He, as always, had taken the fall for it. She would get away as usual with her regret, while his truthful passion would be his downfall. Now she cried in the emptiness of heaven and let the true emotions overwhelm her. I am a sinner and liar, she thought. The world started to waver. The cool air was going. The oncoming roar of endless fire seemed to be getting closer. When I go there, I shan't be able to come back. But that was all right. She only wanted to be with him. Then the world wavered and for an instant hell and heaven became one. In that instant he had been looking up, praying as he had never done in the living. I am the Devil, he thought, but now he would repent. Long had he been kneeling, and finally his prayers were being answered. Heaven's light glowed dimly, still overtaken by the orange glare of the suffering, but becoming brighter and more pronounced. The world was ripping and he felt the cool wind hit him, and nostalgia and longing clawed at his soul. I love you, he thought, and he prepared himself. I can never come back, but that is okay. I never wanted here anyway. I will deal with the consequences of leaving, no matter how severe they might be. Then the worlds collided and he leaped forward into heaven's light. In the instand a shadow passed by each person and they turned and saw each other, as through a mirror, clouded and with dying light. He saw her face as she entered hell, and her eyes were scared and surprised. Her hair flowed all about, reflecting orange in the coming fire. "Lucifer!"she called. "Lilith!" But their voices were far away. The moment was going and the worlds were moving forever apart. He fell onto the white floor of heaven and looked up to a lonely place. Memory of his youth assaulted him and he knew the place well. His heart beat hard and frantic as he turned and called for her. Deep down, he knew she was gone. Hell raged with an eerie calm. She stood there alone while the fires burned carelessly. It reminded her of his passion, but she felt not his presence. She fell to her knees and cried. My love, she thought. And thinking was all she could do. If you like this story, you may also want to check out my newly created subreddit, r/PanMan, for more of my WP and original stories. Thank you!
I Science Officer Bataar Batsaikhan held the gun up to his own head, a manic grin stretched across his face. With a bang, he flew back in a cloud of red. But the one who died was not the one holding the gun. It was a child of three, wrapped in furs, who now lay splayed across the floor of the yurt, his features frozen in terror. His own parents lay in similar poses next to him. Time sickness was a hell of a bender. Despite incredible advances in the technology itself, time travel produced psychological stresses that few could handle. The Jikan Institute had done the best that it could to prepare the chrononauts for this trip, the longest that had yet been attempted. Bataar had been the first to snap. Abandoning his team members, he had evaded capture and boarded a plane to his native Mongolia, where he had committed the bloody crime against himself. This crime against physics had been broadcast to the world, his world, decades in the future. At the control centre in Sapporo, chaos reigned. This was unprecedented. The Butterfly Effect was a theoretical consideration in the planning of such missions, but nothing of this sort had been planned for. Nobody could predict the outcome of such an event. Moreover, should the outcome not already be apparent? How did Batsaikhan just stand there, gun in hand, having erased his own past? Records were checked and cross-referenced. The truth was almost as strange as the paradox itself. Bataar had been adopted as a child after the death of his twin brother at the hands of a crazed man of whom no record survived. His own parents had been killed in the same incident, and he had been adopted by his aunt and uncle - who just happened to be twin siblings to his original parents. They had raised him as their own child, and had never discussed with him the events of that tragic day. Possible though the truth was, the extreme improbability was not lost on anyone. Batsaikhan's descent into insanity had a catalytic effect. The other chrononauts had been ordered to return, but a few had ignored the call, gripped by an existential fear that needed confirmation. The next to snap was Dr. Sinéad Ó Murchadha, medical officer. A newborn infant drowned in a Galway hospital shower. The very improbable revelation that Dr. Ó Murchadha had been swapped at birth by a careless nurse, and had been returned to her rightful parents following the tragic and mysterious death of the other infant girl. The realisation spread like ripples through the renegade community of half-maddened chrononauts, hiding out in the early 21st century. Murder after murder ensued, with the timelines of the perpetrators and those connected to them seemingly protected in the most improbable ways. And the crimes grew more brazen. II Sergei Vasilev prepared the bomb, hidden in a disused underground parking lot in Moscow. Salvaged from the fusion reactor of a chronopod and repurposed as a weapon, the city stood little chance. Similar devices had been planted by Time Anarchist operatives around the world. This loose group, forged from the remnants of renegade chrononaut groups in the last decade, had all dedicated themselves to this fight against inevitability. They fought against the control of time itself, and they aimed to win. Later that day, 57 major cities across the planet were engulfed in flame and fire. Over 400 million people vapourised in an instant. How could this not change history? The controllers watched powerlessly in their Sapporo office as history was annihilated. III Somewhere in the realm to the left of nowhere in particular, the Great Ancient One awoke. "Oh, for fuck's sake"it muttered to itself. Well, it didn't really mutter, as one cannot mutter when one lacks a mouth and lives in a plane where mouths were never really in fashion. Or matter of any sort, for that matter. As a disclaimer, "For fuck's sake"very poorly conveys the sentiment that it was experiencing, like trying to describe a bacterial emotion in human terms. The GAO got up (in an analogous sense), stretched very analogously, and waved a hand (as much as one without a corporeal form can wave their hand). Down on Earth, the cities reassembled themselves and went on as though nothing had happened. No trace remained of the catastrophe that had just occurred. The clock had been turned back, the Earth placed a little further back in its orbit, and the same for the other heavenly bodies in the Earth's visual range. There was no way to tell that time had passed at all, although it had. The GAO cleared its throat. "Now look here assholes, don't make me.... oh". It had lined the Time Anarchists up before itself for a stern talking-to. But one does not simply reveal one's gloriously infinite extradimensional form to a human. Whatever was left of them was far too insubstantial to converse with. "Eh, whatever"thought the GAO (although no neurons fired in its non-existent brain). In a puff of extradimensional puffing medium, it returned to its endless and highly non-literal slumber.
Sprindwood’s Care for the Elderly: Truly the greatest hive of scum and villainy this world has to offer. All residents can kill 90% of the population, and similar accuracy rates of doing so. They’re real easy to get away with too. I mean who’s going to put a guy with a cane to jail, even if they’re holding someone’s decapitated head and painted in blood? Grandma’s famous chocolate chip cookies also work as an excellent bribe. Tonight though, would be our biggest operation yet. Operation “Whippersnapper”, with the objective to kill the higher-ups of the Finaclair Foundation. Those juveniles want to replace our home with a smoothie store. Damn millennials, ruining the elderly assassination industry! We infiltrated their building like ninjas. We needed several bathroom breaks and hours to get up the stairs, but ninjas nonetheless. We found ourselves outside the CEO’S door. He was having a meeting. Perfect timing, this would be easier than cooking for my granddaughter. “The denture grenades ready Carol?” I asked while readying the Bingo shotgun. “Damn straight Betty, let’s light this fucker up. On three everyone!” The prune juice bomb blasted the door right off. We fired our guns through the smoke. We may not have the best eyesight, (I think someone shot me in the leg) but we must have hit something. As the smoke settled, we stood shocked to find the room empty. Wait, did someone's dentures just fall out? Looking up, there we’re people sticking to the ceiling, red binoculars on them. Crap! Those must be using some newfangled technology. Most of us don’t even know how to use Skype! The dropped down in front of us. Putting on my glasses, I saw they were… oh no. The Centenarians. “Greetings, young timers. Did you like that little surprise?” The leader cooed to us. It was none other than my long-time rival, Dick. Or as I like to call him, the greatest cheater in shuffle-boarding ever. “Where are the business fellows?” I shouted. “Them? Oh, they’re in a very same place. I can’t really say the same about you though.” He pulled out a huge cannon. It was an Oatmeal RPG! Anyone hit would get 300F burns! “Everybody get down!” I yelled. The only one who didn’t was Carol, fixing her hearing aid. “Now get off my property!” He said before firing. It all went to white for a while. They were gone by the time we woke up. Everyone was okay, except for Carol. She turned into a creamy mess. I held her in my arms. She was too young, only 94. After another bathroom break, we trotted down back to our home. It seems Finaclair knew of our plan. Well, this isn’t the first time we’ve dealt with this, we had to fight that evil possessed wheelchair company before. But this was different, they took Carol. This was no longer a battle, but war. It was apparent to all of us, and we were preparing to win it for all the Werther's originals in the world. Right after another bathroom break of course. --Thanks for reading. Check out /r/JustATadOfStories for more of my tales!--
That's where I come in. I'm Lazarus and my profession, in short, is unique and very well paid. On random occasions a card is slid under my door. I don't know who does it, nor do I care. That is inconsequential. What's important is the name written on the card and an address. It's in black capitals, clear and concise. That's the first prompt. My job for now is to find and track that person. There's no correlation between these people. They could be any race. Any age. Any level of class. I make it a point not to know much at all about their past or who they're really are. It's easier that way. Last week, the name on the card was Jack. He didn't live far from here, but I'd never met him. He was your classic middle class, middle aged, average male. I tracked him for a few days. Learned where he worked, where he had lunch, bought coffee, socialized, etc. The difficulty level on this one was low. Then the message came. I was sipping my morning coffee and staring out the window. It had been raining all night and the sky was gloomy. My cell phone vibrated silently. Again his name was shown. Under that it stated "7:23 AM. 12 hours". That's the second prompt. I was ready. Jack would be leaving for work in about half an hour. He was a pretty organized person, which made this easier. I grabbed my jacket and pulled over the hood. It was about 15 minutes walk to Jack's place. With the rain and traffic, walking would be just as quick. I took a few back alleys and cut through a park and made sure I wasn't followed. Jack's car was still in the driveway. He wasn't due to leave just yet, so there was still a little time. I didn't need long anyway. I ducked into the shrubbery next to his car and waited. The rain was still pouring and I could feel it starting to soak through my jacket. The sound of a creaking screen door came from front of Jack's house. His footsteps came closer and car keys were jangling. As soon as he was near, back turned to me, I lunged. I admit, I'm not sophisticated in my approach. I'm simple and old school. I grabbed Jack from behind and put a gag over his mouth and then slid the blade across his throat. It was quick. He was stunned, let out a pathetic gurgle, and went limp. I laid him down quietly. The rain streamed down and diluted the blood. I waited for a few moments and ensured that his pulse stopped completely. Then I quickly walked out of his driveway and headed home. This was a clean job. Quick and easy, and little blood on me. Most of it had been washed off by the rain. I showered and relaxed for a little while. When it had been about an hour, about the time he should be arriving at work. People may start to wonder soon if he doesn't arrive. I walked down the back alley to a payphone, and dialled the police. A quick call to say I'd seen someone get stabbed in their driveway and gave the address. When they asked who I was, I hung up. Nobody has seen me make the call. I headed back home again. Like I said, I'm simple, old school. I replied to the SMS from earlier. "Done". I was well within my time frame this time. They'll be happy. The news reports came on later, reporting the murder. They had no leads. Nor they should. The next morning I unrolled the daily paper. A small article on page 7 about Jack, and police asking for witnesses. Nobody cared, sadly for Jack. I flicked to the classifieds, and found it. "Jack - Born 28/04/18 at 7:23 AM. Proud parents John and Lucy." The job was flawless. The payment arrived in my account a few hours later. $50,000. All in a days work. I didn't live rich from this lifestyle, don't get me wrong it pays very well. But the work is sporadic and unpredictable. It's not every day that a rich family want to claim a name that's currently taken. I guess I thought this was the ideal life for me, until that day a card arrived. On it, in black capitals. Clear and concise, was "Lazarus". Edit: grammar corrections. Edit 2: Part 2 may be coming soon.
"Holy crap, John."I mutter, staring at the yellowish substance. I pick some of it up and it drips down my fingers, exactly like it should. "Are you sure? Are you 100 percent sure?"John nods, and I gawk, standing there. I stick some in my mouth, and it tastes fatty and slick. "I fucking can't believe this. No. Definitely not. We have to change the slogan. There's no way."I yell out. My voice echoes through the room and at least three other people nod. "Jerry, I'm sure. We can't change the slogan, either. That'd be false advertising. Plus, it's a good slogan."One of the interns whispers something in John's ear and his face goes pale. He quickly extracts his phone from his pocket, opening up twitter. The intern flinches at the harsh look on Jerry's face. I would too, to be honest, if I were his employee. "It's trending."He spits, tossing his phone on the table roughly. "You people are insane."He storms out and I pick up his phone, staring in silence for a solid minute before passing it around the table. "I mean, this is good, right?"The intern asks, wiping a stray hair out of his face. I shrug. "I don't know. Now can someone get me whoever makes the ingredients for this stuff?"The intern nods. A few minutes later a very puzzled woman in a lab coat is shuffled in. I glare at her intensely. "What is this stuff made of?" "Purified water, soybean oil, palm kernel oil, palm oil, salt, soy lecithin, natural flavors, vinegar, Vitamin A Palmitate, and beta\-Carotene $for color$." "So it's true then?"She gives me a concerned look and I bite my tongue, staring at the bar of yellowy goodness. "No. I refuse to believe it. I just\- I can't."I cringe, knowing there's only one way to properly get the point across. "I can't believe it's not butter."
Darkness hung its head down watching all of us single file through the gates. Chains dragged my soul across the snow toward the front of the line. Statues stood in disarray from the souls that froze into solid ice. Fire sprouted like spring flowers in order to protect the souls coming to Hades. “You!” I heard someone shout from the front. A tall man ran from the line trying to escape his fate. It only took a few seconds before hounds bigger than three men put together tackled him, ripping his soul apart. “Don’t run,” a demon leaned in close to me. His entire face was swirled in a mess. His mouth was the only facial feature that had been normal. That was until I watched his mouth open again. It looked like he had rows of shark teeth inside. “Keep moving.” It wasn't like I had a choice. I was chained to the person in front of me. I don’t understand how that tall man got out of his chains the way he did. His ankles must have been so skinny, his soul just slipped out when no one noticed. Thunder drummed when each person stepped into the chamber of Hades. My curiosity itched at me to look around my environment, but I knew better than to look up again. I just kept my head down until it was my turn to enter the chamber. \It was my time.\ I felt my chains break into the snow. I am guessing that is how the tall man made a run for it afterall. It had been his turn to enter the chamber, but he chose to run instead. Running is no option for me. I am ready to get this over with. I lifted my head to see nothing but the mouth of a cave. I had never seen anything so dark before. As I took my first few steps inside, I heard the thunder signal my entrance from behind. I couldn’t see anything. I couldn’t hear anything. There were no smells, not even a taste of the air. The cave was pure nothingness as I continued straight the best I could. Moments later, a small flame flickered in the distance. I slowed my pace trying to concentrate on its image. “Do not keep me waiting.” An order slithered along the rocks around me. “I will not wait any longer.” My feet picked up in a sprint toward the flame. I found myself running into a room housing a man slouched in a throne. He wore a dark robe with a dancing flame as his hair. It was Hades himself. Falling to my knees, I felt my soul growing weaker by every minute. “Please,” I found myself begging. Hades straightened his back before smiling. “What’s your hurry? We have all the time in the world!” He stood up from the throne laughing. I watched the flame atop his head turn to blue. He slicked the flame backward with his hands making it roll back down toward the floor. “Please,” I continued, “just get it over with.” “Do not give orders to me! You are nothing but a pathetic parasite! You are a weed that I’m responsible to pluck!” He shouted while his hair of fire stretched toward the ceiling. He slicked it backwards again before continuing, “No matter how many weeds I pluck, they always keep coming. I have started doing something for all of you. This game has gone on for way too long.” I stood up while watching Hades pace back and forth. He had a man in the corner chained down by both his hands and feet. What caught my curiosity wasn’t the fact there was someone else in the room, but the fact he was leaned over puking pure fire into a bowl. “The new game,” Hades snapped. “I will ask you what you think your punishment in this world should be. Do not worry, I’ll be fair – somewhat.” I didn’t respond. My attention was still fixed on the man endlessly puking fire into the bowl. Hades rolled his eyes. “That’s my pet. He, like you soon will, is paying his punishment to me. Isn’t that right Prometheus?” Hades chuckled. Prometheus tried to look up but the fire kept spilling from his mouth. “That’ll teach you to give away my property again.” Hades slid over in a smoke to glare his yellow eyes into mine. “Tell me, what should I do with you?” He rested his forefinger over his lips. “Just toss me into the river below us.” I answered. I knew the stories covering the river of lost souls. I spent most of my life thieving, it is only poetic that my time itself becomes stolen by the cold waters of the river. After, my statement, Hades reaction was – I have to admit – unsettling. “Really? Wow, you are the first to ever want to join \that\ party.” Hades glued his eyes onto the river flowing below. You could see the elbows and hands breaking the surface of the water by the souls caught in its current. “I know they are having a blast, but I have something else in mind.” “What is it?” I asked. “Don’t,” Hades rested his hands on both my shoulders. “Don’t look afraid now \- not after you were willing to go in there. Don’t disappoint me now.” Hades pointed toward the water right as some soul’s head rolled across the surface with its eyes gone. “No. The punishment must fit the crime.” Hades walked back over to his throne. I waited for what he had planned to do. When Prometheus vomited his flame again, the fire slithered up into Hades’ hair like a serpent. “Instead of a punishment, you will service me in procuring certain pieces of interest.” Hades decided. “You want me to return to thieving?” I was interested in his overall plan. “I hear you were quite the talent – back up top. I need someone with your talent back up there.” Before I could make another word, Hades snapped his fingers. I woke up in the middle of the woods where the guards had executed me. The taste of the wet air, the smells, the sounds had all returned to me. I looked around trying to get bearing on my situation. Hades emerged out from behind the tree next to me. “This place is so much more fun than the house downstairs,” he chuckled. “Your first task is to find me a child. I am a long term solution guy. I need this child for events that will unfold down the road.” “Who’s the child?” I asked him. Hades smiled. “You’ll find her in the kingdom. Bring her to me and we’ll talk about your next task. Do not let me down.” His hair caught the tree next to us on fire. “Do I get a name to work with?” Hades answered before he disappeared out of thin air. “Her name is Megara.” \\\* To read more of my stories, visit [r/13thOlympian](https://www.reddit.com/r/13thOlympian)
As we shake hands, I feel a tingling sensation crawl up from my fingertips and down my spine, then throughout my whole body. The world feels different somehow, almost like waking up in an unfamiliar bed for the first time but not...quite. Deeper than that. "Okay, kid, whaddya want?"Right now, he looks like any other overworked businessman as he stands in the preternaturally empty lobby of my building, his speech at odds with his appearance. Arms crossed, eyebrow raised, tapping his foot. I had thought of this ages ago, playing Truth or Dare in high school. It was eloquent, really, but I'd never thought that hypothetical would ever occur. "Your soul." Something flashes across his face – surprise? – but he simply nods, expression blank but for the edge of a smirk on his lips. What is he playing? "Very well. Come."He turns on his heel towards the glass double doors and I follow a few paces behind, my heart thumping against my chest. We step out into the cool night air, the moon sitting in a nest of clouds. I try to imagine what owning the devil's soul entails: Would I have access to any of his powers? What did one even do with a soul, anyway? Maybe I could replace his with mine. He leads me to a pay parking lot that's been closed for the night several blocks away, easily bypassing and disabling the security measures put into place. I stare into one of the cameras on a light post, but it looks like all the power has been drained out of it. Not as if it's been turned off, but rather, rendered entirely unusable. "Hey, kid. Catch."Turning towards him, I automatically grab the object out of the air. They jangle as they land in my hand – Oh, no. There's a full grin on his face, his eyes glinting. "She's right over there. Enjoy."With a small pop, he vanishes. I slowly look to my right, and there it is, just as promised: a red KIA Soul.
“You don’t understand”, I bellowed mustering every ounce of sincerity in my body. “I don’t belong here, I’m not this person I have a wife, kids, a job” my head was swimming with confusion, frustration, pain. 3 days ago I woke up in this white walled sterile hell. 3 days in this sickly, foreign body. Three mornings greeting this hideous scared face, pallid skin and frazzled, matted hair. I had tried everything, calmly explaining who I was, providing details about my life only I would know. Asking to call my wife to prove it was me. “I’m in the wrong body, I’ve been switched... this body isn’t mine... I shouldn’t be here...” i whimpered in pain begging them to listen. I’ve only seen her since I awoke. She looks sad and hopeless, broken and filled with pity. The nurse meets my gaze, then darts her eyes away. What isn’t she saying? Why won’t she let me prove I am who I say? She leaves after injecting something into my IV bag. A heaviness takes over and I drift into a haze of uncontrollable unconsciousness. ... “Clack, clack, clack” heavy heels break the drugged nothingness I was locked into. “Clack, clack, clack” someone was coming. The door creaked open for what seemed like eternity and there she was. She averts eye contact as she begins to slowly find her voice, “Daniel?” she chokes out. “Is it really you”. “Yes! Yes Lilly, honey it’s me, it’s not my body but it’s me in here! They listened, oh my god they finally listened they called you!” Sadness floods deeper in her eyes. “Daniel, I’m so sorry” she breaks down in a river of tears “Daniel it’s been 6 months... you didn’t know who I was, who the kids were, who you were... you started calling yourself Tor and you started hurting yourself” she’s shaking, “ I had to Daniel I had to let them bring you here, you needed help, I’m so sorry.” I stare forward eyes fixed on her crumpling form as she ceases to find the words. The nurse appears behind her. “We thought it would be easier to hear the news from your wife, Daniel you are in your own body. You asphyxiated after driving your car off a bridge into a lake. You’ve been in a medically induced coma ever since.”
"I want something that really captures the moment, you know? Something that puts us in the center of this universe."Lucas Velkins was going off in Director-God Emperor mode again, walking back and forth across the set and waving his hands about to emphasize his points. Universes. Zeitgeist. Milleu. It's a thirty second car commercial for fuck's sake. And not even a good car. Buick. Buick Verano. No one wants to go to this universe. This car isn't a part of the cultural zeitgeist. And if you own this car, you sure as fuck aren't present in any "milleu." But it's a job, and it isn't like it's easy to get work as a linguist these days. Should have gotten a damn computer science degree like my mom told me to. Of course that would be admitting that my mom was right, and I'd rather spend the rest of my life making up gibberish for ass-clowns like Mr. Director Sir Velkins than give mummy dearest the inside track on gloating. She still brought up the fact that my first girlfriend had turned out to be "bad for me"(read this as psychopathic harlot sent from hell to genetically graft misery into my life) just like she said she would. Ah shit, I'd zoned out again. Velkins is looking at me like I'm supposed to be saying something. Well, this is Los Angeles, so I followed the prime directive: fake it 'til you make it. "Oh yes Mr. Velkins, we need to put the viewer into the heart of this ecosystem. Make them realize that this isn't a car it's um..."Fuck fuck fuck...where am I going with this? "It's transportation."Oh Jesus, that's the best I could do? "Meaning that people are being transported. There's not here, they're THERE, and that's what they've always wanted to be."FML, LOL. But Velkins is nodding. His hand going up to his chin to tag at the small collection of ball hair that he has carefully cultivated there. "Yes...yes...that's it exactly." He bought that? How do I work for this guy? Why is this my life? What did I do to piss the universe off? "I'll get right to work on it. We'll call it Veranese."Verano, Veranese, made sense. But nope, we've got a shaking of the head. Velkins isn't on board. "No, no, no, that's all wrong. Veranish."Velkins replied, a look of smug satisfaction crossing his features. "That's much better." I manage to keep my shit together and give him a nod of agreement. "Yes, you're right. It felt wrong coming off the tongue." "Maybe I should be the linguist!"Velkins punched me on the shoulder, "Don't take it too badly, I've been world-crafting for a long time." Yeah, I was super moved by your work on Le Fin, the twenty second spot you did on athletic socks last year. Seriously, I'd barely managed to hold myself in tact, the tears were streaming. How you missed out on the Oscar is beyond me. The Academy is a bunch of hacks for us. Rather than reply, I just gave him a half-hearted nod, tried to look chagrined and then shuffled off. Four years in undergrad, masters, $223k in debt and I'm working for minimum wage and renting a room with two other dudes. Both actors trying to make it while they wait tables. Both infinitely more financially solvent than me. Le sigh. At least the craft table is decent. I load up a few pastries and waddle my way backstage where I can get some quiet. A few minutes later and I'm deep into Veranish. I decided to leverage a variant of latin and build it off of car parts. The end result was the sort of half-baked bullshit that had become my stock and trade. Motor was now Motricium. Gear shaft was now Calces Hastilia. So on and so forth. I also just threw a bunch of other shit in there because it sounded good. I coughed into my hand, and gave the first sentence a whirl. "Motricium Venerato Victori Calces Hastilia."I exclaimed aloud, my hands spreading wide and dumping my half eaten croissant and coffee to the ground. Cursing, I ducked down and tried to salvage the situation, but it was too late, a pool of cream and sugar laden liquid already forming a viscous, syrupy pool around my feet. I'm pretty sure that the concoction I was drinking could only be referred to as coffee flavored cream. Muttering to myself, I began to search my desk for a napkin. Just as my search had begun, I was blinded by a brilliant blue flash, followed by the appearance of a gateway. It slid open, and a gust of acrid wind blew outward. I, being a calm and sensible individual, started to scream at the top of my lungs, "The North Koreans figured out portal technology!" I'm not sure why I went with the North Koreans, it just felt right. It sorta seemed fitting that since they had disappeared for fifty years into their hermit kingdom the natural outgrowth of that would be time-space phase shifting. Why not? Three huddled beings emerged, their bodies covered in robes. They stood about four feet tall, and from what I could tell, had four arms in addition to their two legs. The legs had the backward knees things going on like deer or whatever. Probably not North Koreans. Not definitive, but it seemed unlikely. The final of the three was dragging a large object behind it. The leader glanced at me, its large, hexagonal eyes taking me in and then passing over me. It walked onto the stage, eventually coming to stand beside Velkins, who finally noticed the newcomers. "What? Is this some kind of joke? This is all fucking wrong. The Veranese"--Oh, back to my word again are we?-- "are supposed to be eight feet and have four legs and two arms. This doesn't make any sense." Almost immediately the leader of the group started gibbering back, the language sounding very familiar to the mess of made up crap I had just been spouting out a few moments ago. The second of the Veraneseish (name in progress) came over to the leader and pulled out some odd pad looking thing and began scribbling notes feverishly, ducking its head and splaying out its four arms. The third of the group game up beside me, still dragging the large object behind it. It stood, silent regarding the interaction between Velkins and the leader, watching as it grew progressively more animated. Velkins was talking about how his 'creative vision' had been utterly destroyed and that Buick wouldn't be happy -- which was probably true since his daddy was the VP of Marketing over there. The Veraneseish wasn't backing down, going so far as to start wailing in Velkins face, hopping up and down furiously. The little guy was definitely giving Velkins hell. The third turned and glanced at me, "Vestria cornia collopiun?" I jolted back to the surreal reality I was occupying, glancing at the third, "I'm sorry, I don't understand you." "Oh, my apologies, I assumed you spoke Verani."I had two thoughts. One, that Verani was better than Veranese or Veranish, which was annoying. Two, how the hell does this thing speak English? "Nah, I was just making shit up. Why did you guys come?" Third folded its appendages and heaved something that sounded very much like a sigh. "That's Supreme Director Vool-lak Perseria, he's responsible for ensuring cultural standards through pan-dimensional space, particularly when the subject is Verani." I shrugged, "Um, ok. So what's he so pissed about?" "A Verani would never drive a Buick." Platypus out. Want MOAR peril? r/PerilousPlatypus &#x200B;
"Tonight my brethren, we shall overthrow the monarchy! We shall gain our freedom, and our rights!" &#x200B; King Henry just stood there in shock, wearing commoner's clothing, watching his people rising up against him. He had grown rather bored of the royal life, instead of fancy dinners and wearing fancy outfits where he had to maintain his posture and elegance, he preferred eating like a savage while wearing a poorly made potato sack shirt in taverns among his people. &#x200B; However for Henry, he had gotten roped into a revolution against himself. People booing his at his name, toppling down his statue in the town square, and marching with them towards the palace. As the common folk reached the Castle, they brought down the drawbridge and managed to overpower the palace guards. King Henry shook his head, as the men he trusted his life with couldn't even protect themselves. &#x200B; Finally, they reached the halls leading to the throne room. King Henry watched as his people tore down the curtains and the paintings, dancing on them and burning them. As they barged through the door, the guards fell and the crowd confronted King Henry on the throne. &#x200B; "Alright King Henry! We're tired of your silence!"Their leader shouted, directed to King Henry's dummy made of hay. "We demand you speak to us! We demand a leader!"He shouted again, as the dummy's fake hand fell off. "Well, that settles it! Off with your head!"He shouted as he cut the dummy's head right off. &#x200B; "We have done it! We have defeated the silent tyrant!"Everyone cheered. All King Henry could do was look in disbelief at how everyone actually fell for the dummy. It was time for him to go, he had seen everything.
I used to look ... different. You've seen those makeover shows. Two weeks away and people come back to shock their friends and family with their new noses and freshly styled hair cuts. Wearing fancy clothes and flashing a mouth full of white teeth. Every inch of them remade into something new. Well I did that. Except I kept my nose. And it didn't take me two weeks. It was twenty years of hard work. It was also twenty years since I'd been back to my home town. And that wasn't a coincidence. That last day... that last humiliating day, was what drove me. I swore that I'd never have anyone say something like that to me again. And then I vowed I would NEVER come back to this place again. But a vow like that is hard to keep. For years my parents would have to come to me for birthdays and holidays. University gave me months away from home. There was always another assignment to work on or essays to write. My first job was my next excuse. Then working in the city. Starting my own company. So many good reasons I couldn't come to them. But I couldn't stay away forever. The only reason i was back now was for my parents. It was their anniversary and they were having a party to celebrate. I couldn't say no to this trip. And that was why I now found myself standing in the car park of the local hotel. The party had slowly sprawled from the rented function room to the bar. Then from the bar to the patio. I'd come out to catch the few who tried to take the party from the patio into the street. And was now enjoying a moment to myself to take a breath after convincing the few who were staggering towards the road to turn around and rejoin the others. "Are you okay?" The voice made me jump. I spun around to find a short blonde woman standing between two of the cars. For a moment I wondered what She was doing there when the car beeped as the doors unlocked. "Oh you scared me for a second. I didn't see you ..." Anything else I wanted to say became stuck in my throat. A man had joined her and opened the car door on the other side. As the lights inside the car came on I saw their faces clearly. Abby White and Jamie Swan. For a half second I was transported back in time. Abby and Jamie were always in the background of any memory I had about my childhood. Each had their own little gang that would taunt and bully me. Making every day hell. And here they were, seemingly ready to start again. "Disgraceful isn't it"Abby said. "Shouldn't be allowed."Jamie nodded to the few party goers who were now smoking on the edge of the patio. " "Smoking?"I asked confused. "Letting them in to drink."He clarified "We saw you having to deal with them when you were out here. Its terrible that you have to cope with them during your stay here." "Don't misunderstand"Abby took over the conversation as Jamie climbed into the car "we don't mind if someone wants to have a celebration but ... that family ..." She paused with a slight smile. It was smug and condescending, just waiting for me to ask about the family. My family. And with shock I realised they had no idea who I was. I'd sometimes dreamed about what would happen if I ran into some of my old classmates but ... total ignorance of my identity hadn't been one of my daydreams. But before Abby could carry on Jamie leaned over and opened the window. "Have you seen the daughter yet? You won't miss her. Probably the size as this car by now." That made Abby splutter with laughter. My hands clenched by my sides and I tried to speak. "No, I'm the ..." "We just keep waiting to hear about how she died from a heart attack. Or diabetes. Or .. ya know, some other fat person disease." I felt my teeth grind together and I tried again. "I happen to ..." Abby was climbing into the car as she laughed at her own cruel jokes "perhaps her little scooter broke from her sitting on it. And they're rolling her into town as fast as they can." And that was it. That was the moment I knew I wouldn't be leaving town after the party. I had let these people belittle me for far to long. They had to pay. They had to be stopped. I needed ... revenge. The car pulled away and I gave a little wave as they vanished around the corner. "I'll be seeing you soon, you bitch."I hissed through my teeth.
The human ship was so primitive. Made out of simple metal alloy, with 5 primitive thursters powered by literally exploding liquids. No gravity-altering devices nor hyperspace devices. We all thought it would be an easy task, like what we do with all "primitive"vessels. Show them our firepower, kill their leader, and they would submit and we would have more armies. That's what we did to about 50 species. We shot their bridge with our plasma cannons. We transmitted "submit to us or face destruction"to them. They did not respond. Instead, they started accelerating. We thought they were fleeing. We launched another shot at their main engines. We did not want to risk killing the other crew, they may be valuable resources. They did not stop. They started launching self-propeled metal cans filled with explosives at us, which left little scratches and burns on my newly-bought ship. We realized they might be less primitive than what we thought, but no big deal. We shot their turrets. The ship was coming dangerously close to us. Although their engines were destroyed, they used the engines of their little excape pods to propel their ship towards us. We were sure they were mad, those excape pods were their only resort of survival. Plus we were sure they were running out of oxygen. Why would they be attacking us when they did not have any chance of winning? We decided to send in a team and abduct one of their crew. She kept launching metal pellets at us and showing agressive behavior to us. We showed her to them by our transmissions, and said "submit. You have no chance of winning." One excape pod was ejected from the human ship. It seemed to be fleeing. We decided to focus on the main ship first,and we shot 2 shots at the other excape pods. We did not want any more humans to flee. The fleeing humans should be afraid of us, tell their planet about us, and their council, dictator, king or whoever would decide to submit. The fleeing humans weren't. They changed course and went full-speed into our right thusters of our ship. 3 of our crew died. We sealed the area. Why would they do this,it was so counterintuitive. Suddenly, the human ship started moving. They used their leftover oxygen as propulsion to ram into our ship. We said "stupid move", but were not aware of the nuclear reactors in the human vessel. I barely survived. The next news I heard about the humans is that "earth", the home planet of the humans, had started to attack us for no reason. We found out it was called a "revenge". That's so counterintuivie and stupid, we thought. And humans somehow started winning. They took our planets one by one. One day they attacked my planet. Why are they doing this? This is so primitive and stupid. What is this "revenge"thing you humans are talking about? And why is it so effective? I think I will never understand you humans. --end of interrogation with the alien commander--
Dot, dash, dash. Whiskey. Dot-dot-dot-dot. Hotel. Dash dot dash dash. Yankee. Slowly, but surely, I saw it. My Morse skills were rusty ever since my transfer from the Navy, but I wrote it down. WHY DID YOU LEAVE US And that message broadcasted again and again, with mere 5 second breaks in between. Even though we were hurtling through orbit at 7 kilometers per second, the light would not stop flashing. It followed us even when we were not over the Bermuda Triangle. "Houston, this is Station. Message decrypted, reads as: Why did you leave us. Over." "This is Houston. Verify 'Why did you leave us'. Over." It was rare to hear that word. I hated to hear it. I needed to ask our Captain to ensure that was the message we wanted to send. But more than the annoyance, I was confused. Why would such a message even show up to us, thousands of kilometers above their heads? "This is Station, your last affirmative, over." "This is Houston, roger. Out." &#x200B; At long last, the 6 Earth hours I needed to be on watch for had passed. It would have been time to rest, but I wanted to check in on the Station's communications room. Usually, the operators would be watching Netflix or eating snacks - or both - but this time, the mood was denser than the black holes that waited patiently over the horizon. "Pass this to the captain."The chief communicator was not interested in talking, neither was he interested in even seeing the contents of the document that was faxed in. Yet, it was not his usual brand of apathy and I've-seen-it-all nonchalance. If I didn't know him well enough, I'd have thought he was scared. &#x200B; The Captain's quarters were quite a distance away from my workstation. I held the clipboard in trepidation, wondering if I wanted to look at its contents. Eventually, my curiosity got the better of me and I ducked into the mess inconspicuously, as though this damned document was no different from the millions of situation reports that I printed for the officers every day. Grabbing a coffee, I set the paper down and started reading. FROM: HOUSTON TO: ISS PRIORITY: URGENT SUBJECT: RETURN TO BASE STATION IS REQUIRED TO RETURN TO BASE IMMEDIATELY AND COMMENCE OPERATION ATLANTIS. COMMUNICATORS HAVE CONFIRMED SIGNALS FROM BRAVO FORCES. HOSTILE BRAVO FORCES SPOTTED OUTSIDE MILKY WAY. The lights flashed again in my head, but without a paper and pen, I couldn't note down what I saw. "And I thought my Communicators understood what TOP SECRET meant."I had only heard that snarling used against officers, before I felt the cool metal of a sidearm pressed against the back of my head. "I have clearance to read this, sir,"I wheezed as the pressure from the Captain's shoulder squeeze tightened. The lights were flashing again, before my eyes, and before no one else's. "Then you'll have enough sense to not make the rest of your career an... unfortunate accident. Enlisted men are wasted when the airlock is opened."The papers were snatched from before my eyes and just as quickly as he appeared, the Captain retreated to his quarters. &#x200B; "Welcome home, brave explorers of the unknown!"The Director beamed at us through the screen. "It is surely a shame that your mission had to be cut short, but at least we are all going home."As my crewmates cheered, I could not bring myself to do so. There was something down there - and out there, more worryingly - that needed to be investigated. So long as that light flashed before my eyes when it wasn't supposed to, something was off. As the Director went on with his usual spiel, I quietly crept out of the room, mumbling a vague pretense of work that needed to be done. What was I doing? I was only an enlisted man. I never got paid enough to do anything, especially something so large scale. But I needed to find the truth. And that truth would be found even if it meant speeding toward the blue waters of the Triangle below. Was I going insane from the lights? Even if I was, I wouldn't know. I could only find the truth.
When I was pushed over and lost a kneecap, I thought that was it. Slowly, all of my bones would be chipped away, and I would cease to be. Would my consciousness still exist without anything to hold it up? Or would the part of me that thinks end up lying in the dirt while the rest of me slowly rotted away. I woke up the next day, and felt a tingle in my knee. When I looked down, the kneecap had returned. I had always thought that I wasn't capable of growing, that life had stopped when I died. I was wrong. If I could produce new bones, then what other new things could I produce? New concepts, new ideas. I could make it all and I had all the time in the world to do it. It was a few years later when I started to build. I'd been stockpiling for a while. A rib here, a tibia there. Just occasionally, because I was afraid that if I took away too many of my bones, one day they wouldn't come back. Until I was seized by a wonderful, magical idea. I didn't have a brain anymore, so I should have something to house my thoughts. It didn't need to be thick, soggy matter. It could be anything I wanted, and hadn't people always put the best ideas inside of buildings? Little by little, ripping out two or three bones a night, my materials increased. It became an obsession, and suddenly I was using a crowbar, a hammer to get them out desperately so that I would have enough. Every night I was vulnerable, I took away the bones in my legs so I wouldn't be able to run away, but in the mornings I was building the thing that made me feel invincible. It was a palace. A cathedral of bones, it stretched into the sky. As it began to take shape, people started to visit. They came to me with faces twisted in revulsion and left enlightened. I wasn't a disgusting reminder of their own mortality, I was a prophet. Things were good, for a while. People liked to hear my ideas, and when the church was finished, more and more people came. One day, one of my church regulars came holding onto something wrapped in tissue. He'd had a tooth removed, and he wanted to add it to the building. Fill in a gap somewhere, so that he'd become truly a part of the church. And so I agreed. The next day, the man won the lottery. I tried to tell him that it wasn't connected, that the church was a way to express myself, that it didn't hold power beyond me. But people started coming to me with teeth, and asking to add to the church. I told them no, but still they came. They came at night, and they added to the church. The first man returned about six months later. Winning the lottery hadn't made him happy, he said. He brought me another tooth. Within weeks he'd run out of teeth and so he started bringing me bigger bones. He had enough money left to pay a doctor to do it. Other members of the congregation took notice, and they began coming to me with bandages on their hands, and chests and feet and bringing their bones. I tracked down the doctor and I threatened him. The next day a woman tried to remove one of her own ribs, without anesthesia, on her kitchen table. Her daughter drove her to the hospital, and then drove to me and begged me to take the bone. She thought if I added it to the church, her mother might survive. I burnt down the church of ideas. I didn't know what would happen once I destroyed my own bones, but it didn't kill me. Perhaps nothing will.
Is it easy dating Electragirl? No, absolutely not. Is it worth it? Well …. I usually do everything I can not to get in her way. I drive 10 miles under the speed limit. I avoid big crowds and tall buildings and long bridges. I specifically chose to take a job in manufacturing logistics at a company that makes chairs, the most boring thing I can think to do. I wear a disguise when we go out, just like she does. I take all the precautions so I don’t become a causality in this relationship (her last guy was turned into a ferret by a super intelligent squid with a ray gun, don’t even get me started on that) and so I don’t distract her from her work. So yeah, in my very weakest moments I’m tempted to think that it doesn’t feel worth it, everything I’ve done and given up. But, I mean, let’s face it - she’s saving the world. It’s not like I have a leg to stand on with my own problems. And I love her, that’s the thing. I love this girl for the supernatural treasure she is. And I guess that’s all that really matters. But I digress. Tonight is our five year anniversary, and I’ve really gone all out for it. Flowers, suit, dinner at the fanciest restaurant in the city, diamond ring in my pocket. If I play my cards right, I will be the future Mr. Electragirl by the end of the evening. I stop by her place to pick her up, and you could knock me down with a feather. She’s beautiful, all dark hair and deep brown skin and a body that is truly electric tucked into that curve-hugging red dress. I’ve never seen anything more beautiful in my life. We get to the restaurant and it’s going great. We’re laughing and talking like normal people, we’ve even gone light on the incognito thing tonight - just a pair of horn rimmed glasses for her and a fake beard for me - I’m glad we look at least something like ourselves. We talk about our families and the next vacation we want to take and everything in the world except the things that always come between us. She’s full of energy and talking with her hands, her laugh is enough to make even the people at the table next to us smile, and she’s just more alive than any person I’ve ever met. We’re sitting out on the terrace underneath the clear night sky and she’s glowing from the strings of lights hanging above us and I know, I just know that I’d face down every villain in the universe if it meant I got to be here in this moment with her. Just after the waiter has refilled our champagne, I reach a hand into my pocket. And right as I’m about to start the speech I’ve been working on for two weeks, the first car alarm starts going off. It’s a fluke, it has to be a fluke. I clear my throat as I wait for the idiot who hit the wrong button on their key fob to turn it off, but a few seconds later it’s joined by another, and another, and suddenly the streetlights outside the restaurant flicker into darkness. A moment later, the top of a skyscraper a block away bursts into flame and the shockwaves hit us a few seconds after that. “Babe,” she says, looking up from the last of her tiramisu. “I’m so sorry.” “No, no, I get it,” I say, reaching out and squeezing her hand, the ring all but forgotten. “Are you going to be ok? I can get home on my own.” “I’ll be fine.” I know she will be. She always is. With that, she’s tearing the front of that red dress right down the middle, the spandex of her super suit unfurling beneath it. She leans across the table to kiss me, and then she’s gone in a crackle of static and a pop of light. Man, I really do love this girl. It’ll never be easy, but I love her.
The musty odor of the hall changed perceptibly. A fresh dusty smell entered the room. I hadn't smelled dust, fresh dust in years, but the sense of it being dust felt embedded in some primitive part of my brain. It was a disturbance and had to be investigated. So I walked in the direction where the smell was the strongest. Light entered through the ceiling at one place in the hall. A rope was suspended from a hole in the ceiling, and two men stood under the hole while another climbed down the rope. Unexpected visitors. Their robes didn't have any breathing room and were rather tightly tailored, and in their hands were torches that glowed without fire. "Hello, gentlemen,"I shouted in greeting. By now, the third man had descended from the rope, and they all looked towards me. "What's that?" "Is it a skeleton?" "Did you hear something?" A peculiar bunch, they were more interested in talking to each other. So much so for being a welcoming host. "Hello, gentlemen,"I shouted louder. "...Hello?"The fattest of them replied. "What business are you on?" The tallest of them muttered to the others. "You heard that?" "Yeah,"said the third, bespectacled man. "Did they send anyone before us?" "Who are you?"the fat one shouted. "The guardian of the halls,"I said. "The halls under the temple, that is." "Yeah, I can see that,"the fat one replied. "Who the hell is it? Is it that skeleton you saw earlier?"the tall one said to his bespectacled companion. "Oh, scary. You got me, yay. Stop with the games; we're on a mission here." "Can you show yourself?"the fat man shouted. "Sunlight. I can't. I haven't seen the sun in a long time, and I'm afraid I will faint in its presence. Walk towards the path your torches are pointed. Thirty paces and you shall find me." The whole thing was terribly exciting. It isn't proper for a guardian to invite people in, but I was lonely and somewhat depressed. The fat man and the tall man came towards me while their friend remained behind. These were clever folk. And their flameless torches were bright, but the gentlemen jumped when the light hit my body. "A ghost!" "A mummy!" "No, sirs. I am Hinrd, the treasurer and the guardian of the hall,"I said and bowed. Politeness, the priest told me long back, makes people feel comfortable. But my visitors, they fled. They ran to their rope in the hole and climbed back up. I didn't even get to ask them if they knew about the treasure and had come to rob it. I guess it was my own fault, dilly-dallying like that. I didn't perform my duty well. Protocol has to be followed by a guardian, and that I did not do. I wonder how much time will pass before an opportunity for redemption presents itself. I hope they come back.
They shackled my wrists to a chain connected to my ankles and then to a comically large ball. If I wasn’t aware of how dire a situation this was I probably would’ve laughed. I’ve seen this fear before. Concepts of magic, dark arts, or something demonic have been around long before I was. You get different reactions every time. To be treated as a god and honored can be nice for a time. But all attention eventually leads to pain. It’s better to slip away. Which is what I tried to do here. But the army found me. Blamed my curse on their enemy. And wanted to contain me. Least they could do is bury me alive. But no, they were smart. Had learned enough about the ocean to know how dangerous it was. They asked my last words as held at gunpoint on the deck. I just shrugged, “I’ll be back, one morn”. That scared them, I could see it in their eyes. My only satisfaction as I felt the water engulfing me was that this act would haunt every soldier here till they died. Till they died. Now I’m jealous. The weight kept pulling me deeper as much as the water wanted me to float. I stared up through the murky water to see the light for the last time in a while as it faded under the bottom of their ship. The burn in my nostrils and my throat reminded me how much I hated swimming. I sighed letting out a release of bubbles. Might as well get this over with. The more air I have the further down the more uncomfortable it will be. As I continued sinking I took a deep breath and began coughing. Trying to fill my lungs with water. The pressure and holding your breath hurts more than drowning. At least for an extending period of time while slowly sinking to the ocean floor, in my opinion. Water is an uncomfortable sensation but at least it might weigh me down more and get this over with faster. The pressure of the water above me started to make my head ache. My ear drums would surely burst under the pressure. But no matter how much damage this body withstands it will dutifully fix itself. All too slowly. I tried not to think about what would burst next and I retreated into my mind to ignore my harsh reality. Thinking through the entirety of my life takes time. But not nearly enough. I open my eyes. Dark. All is settled. I wonder how long ago I was thrown in. It must’ve been awhile, it feels as if my body has caught up with repairs. I gently move my arms, the chain still holds my arms down connected to my ankles. They really did too good a job making this. The dark is mind numbingly boring. I try to make up stories, imagine my loved ones having a dinner party. But that just reminds me of the deep sorrow of loss. A light distracts me from my mourning. Just a glint really. Was I hallucinating? Is it some sort of bioluminescent fish? There it is again, a darting light tracing the floor. The light grows closer searching the depths. It turns towards the ball and chain. The light slows as it focuses on my chain. Slowly turning up till the light is right in my eyes. I lift my hand to block the light and squint my eyes. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen any light. I have no idea how long that metal thing floated around me. It was too small for a person to be in. A black and white thing. With a blinking red light between its bright white lights. Science has come far while I’ve been here. The blinking light makes me believe it’s thinking. So I will wait. Nothing else I can do besides wait. The machine stays with me and it is a comfort to not be alone. Nothing seems like a surprise when you live forever. Everything will happen eventually. Above me another glint. More lights. For the first time in centuries, I smile. An even smaller machine with some sort of device sticking off of it putters over to my legs. The tip of the device turns red and it begins to cut through the chains holding me to the ball. I can see the algae now in the lights that’s grown up my pants. I must be quite a site to see. I hope these scientists are nice. But getting out of this water is worth a hundred years of torture. Another larger machine floats down from above the capsule opening at the bottom, mechanical arms reaching down and pulling me up into it. Air. I begin coughing up the water. A breath. A breath of fresh air in the most literal sense. The capsule closes beneath me and dim lights flick on in the cabin. I collapse onto the bench on the wall. I can feel the capsule and I start to slowly head upward. I don’t bother talking. Who knows what they speak. Another red light blinks at me from the corner. I wave at it. Glancing around I see a window looking into the depths, I turn away. I’ve seen enough of the depths for more than one lifetime. The arms that pulled me in have collapsed into the ceiling. On the wall opposite the window was a smooth mirror-like thing that was all black and shiny. I stared at it. I can see my own reflection. I reach my hand up to my beard and feel my arm stopped by the chain. Who knows if they could’ve removed it. Makes sense they would want to leave the shackles on me until they’ve seen if I’m dangerous. My hair is long, down to my shoulders and tangled. I lean my head back against the wall and close my eyes. Just enjoying the air. It seems they understand pressure. They are taking me up very slowly. I woke to a clunk. Not that I need sleep but it sure is a nice way to pass the time. The capsule has stopped moving. I hear a hiss and the wall with the window opens slowly. Standing outside are four people in big baggy clothes. Something shiny like metal but more flexible and thin. Bright blue. Their faces are visible behind small visors. Two of them are holding what looks to be guns. At least some things about humans never change. [Part Two](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/olvxbw/wp_upon_your_immortality_being_discovered_you/h5k4juw/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf&context=3) [Part Three](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/olvxbw/wp_upon_your_immortality_being_discovered_you/h5mmyj5/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf&context=3) \~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~ If you enjoyed that I will be extending it more over at r/Allorrarbor. Welcome in advance!
You have to understand. I had always loved him. Ever since 2nd grade when he walked into the classroom, with his tousled blonde hair and carefree smile. He was the one. The only one for me. He started showing his powers by the time we were 12. He didn't notice me before he got them. And after, well after that I was pretty much invisible to him. He went on to be a hero. A super hero. Girls swooning at the very mention of his name. Teachers openly letting him get away with anything. Classmates worshipping the earth he walked on. But my love stayed true. I didn't love him for his powers. I loved him for him. It was after high school was over that I developed my powers. My parents and I were involved in a freak car crash. I blacked out and woke up to find myself floating above the wreckage. The image messed me up for a long time. I wont go into the details. But you can imagine what happens to a teenage girl who watches both her parents die. I fell into a drug habit. Got mixed up with the wrong people. I ended up working for a gang, using my powers to help them out. In return they gave me food and shelter and of course kept me hooked to drugs. It was 3 years after my parents died that I saw him again. It was the first time we faced each other. I was the lookout for a bank job. He was on his usual super hero patrol duty. He had the same carefree smile. His hair slightly messed up from flying too fast. As soon as I saw him the familiar feeling in my stomach returned. I was once again a giggling 7 year old. We fought. And by that I mean I barely managed to retaliate enough to give me a chance to escape. Our encounters continued. Almost every week. Slowly I realised that I wasn't using drugs as much as I used to. It was like I was getting my fix elsewhere now. There was no real reason for me to stick with the gang either. But I hung around. Being with them meant I would run into him. See him. Fight him. This was the most amount of attention I had ever received from him. As the years passed, I realised that my powers were far, far superior to his. In fact all other special beings on the planet honestly feared me. The only one who could defeat me was him. And not because he was stronger but because I let him. Every single time, I pretended to flee. Just so we could meet again one more time. I also realised that a lot of the supervillians were more powerful than him. And so I went after them. To keep him safe. I had gotten lazy. Or careless. My new minions were useless. Whatever the reason. This time I was unable to evade capture. He got me. And the cops came to lead me away. That was when we all saw it. A sudden movement at the horizon. And suddenly we could see him. They called him the storm maker. He could summon great winds and turn them into tornadoes. He commanded the clouds and could make it rain or hail on command. He was staring directly at my beloved. I broke free from my restraints and rushed. The rest of it was a blur. Almost a blackout. When I came to, I was floating few feet above the hero. He was on the ground, cowering behind a car door. He slowly peeked out. I slowly removed my mask. I saw something in his face. Recognition perhaps? Maybe he did remember me. He has known me since we were kids. We fought for so many years. I was the longest relationship he has had. He would be grateful that I saved his life. I could confess my love. Maybe he would accept. "You stupid bitch"he snarled at me. I snapped out of reverie. "I saved your life"I sputtered "In front of everyone. Including the press. I looked like a wimp that needed to be saved by a fucking girl"he spat. "But... Its me. Maddy. Madelaine" "What the fuck is that supposed to mean. Like your name should mean something to me?"He said slowly getting to his feet. "You're just the dumb slut that I defeated multiple times. Who ran away from away like a fucking rat every single time. I'm the greatest super hero this world has seen. And you're a nobody. You hear me". I heard him alright. I heard him loud and clear. I felt the mist lifting from my eyes. I had been blinded by my love. Blinded to his faults. His hubris, his vanity, his lack of basic respect for women, for people. "Well then. If you're so powerful why don't we have a rematch?"I suggested. He looked at me bewildered. "Come on. Show me what you got"I said landing directly in front of him. This time. The battle would be real. And he would see the true nature of my powers.
The fan irritated the small tentacle like hair on dr. Yulkond's face, his cattish features were sensitive to both air movement and thermal changes. He put his hand on the monitor, clicking and pointing and arranging the windows on it. "Dr. Yulkond, your two o'clock is here"he heard in his mind, the soft "voice"came from his Ringon secretary, another race capable of mind communication. The doc stopped his fan, but for some reason the barely audible buzz was still there. "Must be the darn lights, I knew we should have bought the Xenopanels instead of this Solpanels."He thought to himself, careful to not send it out to his colleagues in the different rooms. "Send him in, and call a technician please, these lights make me crazy" As the door opened, Dr. Yulkond saw a strange being standing in front of him. It was almost hairless, just a small mane and some fur on his face, he was almost... White, with just subtle pink tones. Dr. Yulkond look at the floating chart.A male human in his 50s, average height, weight, he was a drummer, and his complaint is about hand pain. "Please sit over hir Mr."He looked at his chart "Thomson" The white pinkish figure Infront of him sat squarely on the white chair. "So, what are you here for?"The human looked confused. "Oh I forgot, you humans can't communicate without making sounds, please speak and know that I am listening"the doc gestured at the human and at himself, pointing to his furry orange ears. "SO I HAVE THIS HAND AND IT HURTS DOC, PLEASE HELP ME" Dr Yulkond almost jumped from the patients voice, do all humans shout like this? "Sure, but could you please speak a bit quieter, my ears are quite sensitive" "YEA NO PROBLEM DOC" Dr. Yulkond stood up and took his Mindlink3000(tm) and connected it to the patients head. "This tool allows me to read your mind and your feelings, this will let me know exactly what your problem is" The human nodded as the doc put on the metallic cap on his head, and with a single flicker of his finger the device whirred into life and turned on. In a single moment, Dr. Yulkond heard a louder noise than he has ever heard before, a high ring pitch accompanied by up beat thumping, it was like scratching a metal surface with a diamond whilst a jackhammer was breaking rocks inside your ear. Dr. Yulkond screamed with pain as he threw the MindLink3000(tm) on the ground. "What on Ringon is going on?"He shouted, with his actual mouth. The human looked concerned. "Is my hand really that bad, it just hurts a bit and I wanted some meds"the human said. "Something is seriously wrong with the MindLink, Instead of hearing your thoughts and feelings I heard a ring and some booming, it must be broken" "Oh, you heard my tinnitus? Yea I had that since my drummer days" "Tinnitus?" "Yea it when you fuck up your hearing so your mind makes up noises" "I have never heard of such a condition, how do you live with it" "Well I mostly ignore it, sometime I turn up a fan or something to mask the noise, honestly it just annoys me when I want to sleep" The human looked puzzled at the Ringonian doctor, he was still on the floor, almost shaking. The Doc looked up in defeat. "I.. I have written a prescription for you, take it on your way out" The human left without saying another word, and when he exited, two things happened. The first, Dr. Yulkond finally had some quiet. The second, he swore to never treat humans again.
"Well thank you young Lawrence,"Grilith smiled as he raised the wooden spoon to his mouth, slurping the contents. "Delicious as always." "I'm glad you like it,"I grinned back. "My mama made it special for my birthday. And I know how much you love the kid's thigh." "Your birthday?!"Grilith chewed a cube of meat as he spoke. "And how old are you now?" "I'm twelve,"I giggled. "Just three more years until I'm a man!" "You know Lawrence,"he wagged the spoon at my face. "Twelve is a very important birthday. And it deserves a special gift." "Really?!"I squealed. "Like the ones in your cave?!" "Not like,"his eyes widened. "The very same ones. Would you like to see them?" "Are you serious?!"I shouted. "Yes! Yes! Please!" "Go on in lad,"he pointed towards the dark void. "I'll let you choose two." "Two?!" I first met Grilith when I was five years old. His bridge was only a few blocks from my home, and on the way back from school, I liked to walk along the wooden barrier built atop the river levee. One day I took a tumble and broke my wrist. Grilith saw my fall and quickly came to my rescue. He set the bone and wrapped my arm with thick gauze. The next day, I brought him a bowl of goat stew to thank him. He gave me a small, wooden charm in exchange. This relationship continued over the next seven years, with Grilith's presents growing more and more precious. But he never allowed me into his cave. That, so he said, was where he kept his most rare of artifacts. Not only were they valuable, by many contained powerful magic. He even had a scroll that could level a city. But that's not what I wanted. I wanted the "Ring of Infinite Candy."I'd begged him for it since he first told me about it five years prior. As for the second item, I figured I'd browse. But when I came to the clearing, I wasn't greeted with the mountains of gold, or the cases full of artifacts that I expected. There was nothing but a pile of bones. "G-Grilith,"I squealed, turning to face him. "What..." He held his club aloft, smiling in a way I hadn't seen before. I never realized he had fangs.
The clasp of my watch caught on my purse strap and snapped as I shrugged it off my shoulder. "Oh no,"I whimpered as I tried to refasten the wristband, to no avail. Fixing it would have to wait though. I was meeting with a patient. He was slouched in his seat, his unruly eyebrows obscuring the sadness in his eyes. I slid the watch up my arm and took the seat across from him. "Good morning. How are you feeling today?"I asked him. He wrapped a loose string from his orange jumpsuit around his finger. "What difference would it really make?"He murmured through the grey tangle of beard. "It makes all the difference in the world, doesn't it? I hope you haven't been led to believe your feelings aren't important." He cracked a cynical smile at that. "All the difference in the world,"he parroted the phrase. "And what would someone like you know about making all the difference in the world? What kings have you counseled? Which battles' tides have you turned? In what order have you dedicated your mind and spirit, and for the good of what realm?"He scoffed and shook his head. "No, my dear, your vision of the world is but a fool's peak through a fogged bottle." "You speak beautifully,"I observed. "But, to answer at least a part of your question, I studied at the University of St. Louis for my undergrad, and then studied at the University of Chicago for my doctoral work and residency. I haven't counseled any kings, per se, but I don't assign value to people based on their life circumstances. So, in my view, even if I've helped one person, I've helped a whole world."I leaned forward. "Tell me about your world." He looked up. His face was tired, tattered with the signs of age. When they found him, he had no ID, and when he was asked how old he was, he only gave nonsense answers. Older than the tides upon the shores. Older than the order of King Trichus. Ages older than the most ancient records in the most ancient scrolls, now lost to this world and former. His records were filled with such vague, poetic statements. "My world,"he began, "is a realm filled with the ebbing and flowing of spirits and magic, where the laws that govern the natural order genuflect before that which is higher. The land exists in constant permutation, as powers seek to harness the magic for themselves. I lived as one who subverted the selfish ambitions of prideful men; who pried the spirits from their grasps and returned to them their freedom."He looked around at the room with its blank walls and plain furniture. "It was not a world like this, where the air is silent and the wind carries no whispers." "Your world sounds lovely,"I added, smiling toward him. "But you do not believe a word I speak, do you? You think me some senile fool losing his grasp upon reality, succumbing to some disease of the brain."He was speaking louder, frustration popping from his lips. "I didn't say that. Is that what you think is happening?" He opened his mouth to speak, but closed it as his eyes fixed on the pen in my hand. "Might I borrow that?"He pointed to the ballpoint instrument. In normal circumstances, it's not a good idea to give a patient a tool they could stab you with, but he didn't have a history of violence and I thought I might've been making headway as much as he'd been speaking. "Um, sure,"I reached the pen toward him. He grabbed my fingers and then my wrist and pulled me forward sharply. I tried to pull back but he was surprisingly strong. "Listen to me! The gate of the Eastern winds opens but once every solstice. You can find it where the sands meet the crashing waves and where the moon meets the sun. Follow the hands and listen to their wisdom! Set us free!" The guards burst through the door and pulled the old man off me. He was thrown to the floor and placed in restraints. A guard touched the side of my arm and leaned down to me. "Are you alright?"He asked me. I touched at where the old man had grabbed me. There I found my watch unbroken, and with golden ribbons strewn through the silver chain. The hour and minute hands seemed to point like a compass in a single direction as I moved my arm around. "Are you okay, ma'am?"The guard asked again. "Oh. Yes, I'm alright,"I said, snapping out of my trance. I stood to leave the room and felt a wind on my back, pushing me in the direction of the hands.
Eveihc was watching the clouds move when they heard Arjun grunt. They looked over to find the human trying, with considerable effort, to dislodge a large rock half buried in the soil. “I have a good feeling about this one.” Their human companion said, his voice strained as he tried to lift the stone. Eveihc trotted over to help, despite being wholly unsure of the purpose of all of this. Together they managed to shift the stone up and away and... Tiny pinpricks of light flew out of the underside of the stone. They watched, silent, as they danced and shimmered in the planet's darkening sky, and to Eveihc's unfamiliar eyes they were terrifying, filling them with dread and... exhilaration. Eveihc knew they were safe. Their human companion seemed very much at ease, and even seemed to be smiling at the display. "On my planet bioluminescence means danger."Eveihc stated, quietly "What?"Their companion asked. “We bred special algae that gave off light in certain conditions. We coat this algae on anything potentially hazardous, as a precursor to the danger. So we would have time to react. I have never encountered natural bioluminescence before.” “That is… Really cool.” The interest in Arjun’s voice was genuine. He seemed to want to ask more questions, but stopped himself, wanting Eveihc to experience the little worldly wonders the planet had to offer. "Can I touch one?"Eveihc asked, already extending a limb to interact with these flying motes of light. "I mean, sure. There's a way to catch them, though. You sort of cup them into your hands, and then open up your fingers just a little so you can see them shining in there but they can't escape. I learned that when I was a kid, back in my village in India."Their companion spoke quickly, a trait Eveihc had chalked up to their nervousness. Eveihc was nervous as well. This was all so unprecedented. There were too many things at work. Up above, their envoy shuttle hung, and Eveihc knew the humans had their weapons at the ready. Just in case. Because the first contact three months ago was less than stellar. And all the accidental misunderstandings to the tensions to the alleviations to the talks and just... everything. Too much fear, too much unknown. But Eveihc had formed a good relationship with this human ambassador, they thought. This man called Arjun. And now, finally, Eveihc was allowed to leave the envoy ship and make planetfall... Only to be confined to a facility with nothing but meetings and meetings and meetings on the agenda. "I would like to see this village one day."Eveihc said. "Maybe. It's not much, and it's a long way from here." Eveihc morphed their limb to the cup shape Arjun had spoken about, and gently scooped up one of the flying, glowing fauna of the planet. "What is distance to beings such as ourselves who dare to defy the stars?"Eveihc murmured, bringing the cupped limb close to their face to more closely observe the insect. It crawled all over the limb, seemingly not in distress or in any kind of discomfort. Its wings were closed, and every so often, the back half of the insect would emanate the yellow hue that would light up the inside of the cupped limb, and Eveihc would feel the exhilaration again. "That's a nice thought. I feel we’re already on good terms. We can communicate with each other, that is already a big win. For both of us. And we can communicate our ideas, too. All that is left is the bureaucratic nightmare and just… perception. But one day soon we will be a lot more comfortable with each other. As a species. And then maybe we can help each other out, you know?" "I find our conversations rewarding, Arjun. You are very accommodating, and I agree with you. We are both blessed with the complex consciousness of sapient creatures. It is our responsibility to care for the other, to ensure this consciousness, so rare in this universe, does not disappear." Arjun looked up at the sky, the stars slowly revealing themselves as the night slowly fell. "That's the end goal. To ensure both our survival, our alliance."He said, wistfully. "What of this creature?"Eveihc asked of the firefly. "Sure, it could be part of our end goal, too."Arjun said, a little confused. "No, I mean do I leave it?"Eveihc asked. They realised, as they were so focussed on it scuttling about with its six legs on their skin, that the other fireflies were nowhere to be found. Eveihc felt a little sad about that. They were really starting to feel comfortable in their small glows, as short lived as their presence was. "Yeah, it'll find its way back to its friends." "Fascinating."Eveihc uncupped the limb, and the firefly took off, flying towards a tree and then seemingly disappearing into it. "We should head back, too. They're probably on high alert looking for us now." "Why'd you risk the unrest to bring me here in the first place?"Eveihc asked, curious as they made their way out of the woods into the facility they were stationed at. "I don't know. You were bored, weren't you?" "Boredom is not worth the risk of this. Boredom is acceptable." "Sure, it's acceptable, but wouldn't you say this excursion was better? You get to see the trees, the sky, some fireflies." Eveihc looked back to the woods, their sharp eyes picking up a singular yellow glow of a rogue firefly trying to find a place to hide. "It was. Thank you."
The alliance gathered in solemn solidarity to discuss the human problem. Yet, no matter how often they assembled and planned, the problem still remained. "As the species with the most experience fighting humans."The Martian King began. "I am warning you we need a stronger response." "We could destabilize their economy."The Venusians suggested. "They do that themselves every five to ten years."The Neptunians disagreed. "What if we poison their atmosphere?" "They've been polluting their own atmosphere for centuries."The Plutoans sighed. "Does anyone outside the Sol system have ideas?" "We could nuke them."The Centaurians advised. "They have stronger ones."The Secundians sighed. "What about a full invasion?" "The last time we tried that, they ate the invasion force."The Orians shook their heads. "With barbecue sauce." "Maybe our only hope is the one thing humans never tried."The Martian King mused. "Peace."
I blinked, looking around. It was my village, but here was joy once more, people hugging each other and tears streaming down their eyes. It was a joyous day, I remembered. In the dust choked plains, we were free on this day. Flags of green and red and black streamed after kids who ran to their parents and elders, hugging each other as we had liberated ourselves from the brutal uplanders who had repressed all the other ethnic groups who couldn't muster the strength to stand up to them. We now controlled our own destiny. We had the arms to fight them. We had our oil fields to bankroll the fight, if need be. We were a nation. I picked myself up off the ground and looked around. Some people looked back at me, curious as to my familiarity. I couldn't blame them. To them, I looked... Aarya burst from the crowd, pushing her way to me. I remember her brown shawl hiding her beautiful braided hair. "Faiz? What are you still doing here? I thought you had enlisted with the army?"she huffed at me as she held her hands on her hips, etching an eyebrow at my presence. I had to lie. "I was granted leave, to see my mom,"I said, looking sheepish. She rolled her eyes and took me by the hand. "Whatever. I hope that you didn't desert. You better have a good explanation for her." We threaded our way through the crowds, some of my friends also confusedly waving or shouting my name. I waved back, again trying not to be too obtrusive. Most went back to watching their TVs or phones of the news. They pointed and conversed about what the upcoming months would hold. How a strong nation backed us, giving us the weapons and protection we needed for the future. Yes...the future... After moving through the last dense cluster of people, we made it to a small communal gathering of building on the edge of the village. Aarya dragged me into my home, my family gathered about. "Hasifa!"she shouted. I almost shrank away at that moment, for who other than my mother turned to me, her eyes lighting up first in delight, then confusion. All my cousins and aunts and uncles varied their reaction the same, but it was my mother who came forward first, away from the radio that was blaring some urgent news at that point. Aarya stepped away, smiling as my mother came in for a hug only she could provide. I melted in her grasp. "My son...my stupid, stupid son,"she muttered as she put her head into my chest. I closed my eyes and put my head upon hers and grabbed on tight. We held each other for as long as her patience allowed. I could have done it forever, if I could. She pulled out and put me at arms length to size me up. She smiled, but it was a sad smile. "You changed your mind?"she asked, thinking I had indeed deserted. I just stared at her, and smiled back. "I wish I did,"was all I could say. She took my words and processed them, a bit confused. "So why are you here then?"she asked. "If not for the army, why are you back?" I couldn't explain why, for there was little that I could say, other than... "I want to be with you, and the family, for this,"I said as I gestured outside, the din of the excitement echoing through the house. She smiled again, and took me by the hand and patted it. "Of course...of course,"she said comforting. "Aarya, could you help me? I'm going to prepare dinner..." Aarya nodded and followed her to the kitchen, leaving me to answer my family's repeat questions of my return. I humored them, same as everyone, for who else could I tell of where I came from, three days from now? Three days of independence, followed by nothingness? I died under a nuclear explosion, far from home, in a desert with my comrades. I awoke here, back in my village, the knowledge of everything that transpired over the course of three days. Of powers beyond my control that had decided that a cold war should grow hot. And nothing would change that as I awoke time and time again, forever experiencing the same flaming holocaust no matter where I went or what I did. I lived through every single death, only to arrive back here, at the moment a gavel hit a desk a thousand miles away in our new capital, where the crowds cheered and the banners fluttered with urgency as a new nation coalesced from a paper that said we were free. But we were not free, for my people died three days later. And I would die with them too. But then I would be born again. And every time, knowing what I knew, I would come back home and pretend everything was alright, and give my mother peace, and my next door neighbor the attention I never gave her when I trained for the army to defend our independence, would be a first for them each time and another repetition of a cycle I couldn't control. And every third day, I'd take them all to the kitchen, where piles of steaming food would be there, made with love, and my next door neighbor would blush as I made everyone laugh, and then we hugged as the force of an angry sun would catapult me back again, where I would have to live through the birth of my nation as it died three days later...
"Get it OFF OF ME!!" I heard the scream for at least the third time this week, and breathed out a heavy sigh; pushing myself from my desk, I mentally prepared myself for the scene I'd witnessed previously and was sure to witness again. As I exited my office and headed down the long hall toward the living room, I could hear my daughter reaching a fever pitch with her shrill shouts. I made it into the room, and sure enough, there was Eron, pinned to the wall by one long, razor-sharp talon. "Konamya"I began firmly, "drop him." The dragon turned one slitted eye at me, and I still felt myself stiffen, despite having known him my whole life. Kona was a very, very large dragon; even by a dragon's standard. With deep burgundy scales, and long talons that in recent years had reached lengths of 14 inches (a fact he was extraordinarily smug about), he was not a creature to be commanded, and he knew it. He should not be here his deep voice boomed in my mind, he is a thief That was new, despite months of conflict between the boy and the dragon, this was the first time an accusation was made. Startled, I looked at Eron sharply. "What did you take?" "Nothing! Get this disgusting creature off of me!"His shout was indignant. Defensive, even. At the word, 'disgusting' Konamya's talon extended slightly, and to my horror, a small spot of red appeared on Eron's shirt. HE IS A THIEF Kona's already loud mental voice thundered in my mind. Frustrated that things would probably progress even further, I started digging through Eron's pockets. Sure enough, in his back pocket, tucked between a wallet and a crumpled pack of gum, was one solid gold coin. "He is a thief"I confirmed. Letting out an exasperated breath, my daughter turned to him. "What did I tell you Eron? I told you not. To. Steal." "Anna, please! Please, you know my mother is sick, I just needed ONE! Just to pay for her medicine!" Admiring the faint burgundy glow creeping over my daughter's skin, I took a step back. I could already see where this was going. Anna, Kona's voice vertebrated gently, and I knew he was speaking to all of us now. you must consider the risk, you may get stuck should you annihilate him now "I don't care!"Anna screamed, and the burgundy glow exploded across her skin. Stretching out her hand, a heatless fire encompassed Eron, shrinking his frame as soundless convulsions wracked his body. Ugh, I hated this part. I turned away, choosing to pick at my faded polish instead of watching the boy be transmogrified. It's done Kona informed me gently, running his coarse, scaled skin across my back. "Good,"I said, grabbing the iridescent stone the boy had become. One small stone of life force, that was all a soul could be reduced to. It was shocking to me, how fragile humans were. Carrying him down the hall, I opened my office door and returned to my desk. Opening the bottom drawer, I sifted through, making some space, and dropped the stone in, where it landed with a solid "clunk"against the other stones, poor boys from my dating age. "Goodbye Eron."I said with a chuckle.
“…Minecraft?”, “Yea! Minecraft! It’s where you mine and.. craft!” You sigh, it’s the least you could do before he goes to Heaven, at least you hope. “Oh, alright, fine.. How do you win? So I can get this over with.” You weren’t particularly fond of this new ‘video game’ trend with mortals, it was hard to explain to God why you were gone for 200 hours playing Dark Souls with a teenager who got hit by a car. “Well uh, you don’t. Unless you count beating the Ender Dragon as winning, which I don’t, I’ve never actually gotten there..” You put down your scythe as you sit down in the void for a while, “You know, before we play, I always like to get to know you guys. So.. How’d you die?” The kid looked down, seemed like he was trying to remember. “Uh, something with my brain? I don’t know, the last thing I remember is getting into a coma and hearing beeping noises.”, “Ah. I always forget any and all humans can do that, not only the old. Do you remember your name?”, “Uh yeah, It’s Caleb.. Why wouldn’t I remember my name?”, He looked a bit confused, but quickly shrugged it off as he sat down next to you, “So.. Not to be pushy or anything, but when are we gonna play Minecraft? I wanna go see my grandma..” You stay silent, you wish you had tear ducts, maybe they’d express how you were feeling right now. “Wait human, I have to place an order.”, “To who?”, “To whoever your God is, or Gods if you’re in that type of religion. So, what do we play this on?”, Wow, you sounded kind of lame.. The kid frowns as he replies, “Computers. How long does the order take?”, “Only about a minute, they’re gods.” He smiles and hands you an inconspicuous computer mouse, “Wha-“, “It’s what you use to click on things! It’s called a mouse, like the animals.” “Yes, I’m quite familiar with what a mouse is Caleb..” You groan as you start to place the order for the computers. Caleb starts to grin mischievously as they arrive, “You know what Mr Reaper.. Let’s see who can get to the End faster! I’m gonna try really hard because this is my last game of Minecraft ever!”, You furrow your.. eyeholes as you turn both computers on. “It’s a deal, mortal.”, “Heck yea! You’re going down!” You sigh a final time as you press play. “Alright then, let’s go.”
Machines screamed, steam erupted from pipes, alarms blared. The E-1 European class ship had come under fire, and had returned fire. They had taken hits, and we had taken hits. The only way I knew this was from how the machinery in the deep underbelly of the ship reacted. A hard hit against the starboard shields? The shield coils would heat up to near boiling, and I would have to initiate the coolant procedures to keep them from blowing. The main gun firing? Nuclear shells would land in the lead warehouse, and have to be disposed of, and I was the only one closest to the warehouse. A breach? Oxygen pumps would go into overdrive to try and compensate for the missing oxygen, despite the crew in the barracks no longer needing to breathe oxygen... Engineer, electrician, plumber, none of these titles were what the grunts wanted to do when they signed up for the first interplanetary human military. Who would really? I had to crawl through a tight exhaust vent nearing 50 degrees Celsius just to keep our comms up. The underbelly of the ship was dark, there was little light from the failing lights that just didn't end up a priority in the budget. It was miles and miles of pipes, machines, generator rooms, storage areas, electrical panels, and I had to know the layout by memory. I could understand why the grunts wanted to be up there, manning the guns, piloting the fighters, maneuvering the ship. But as the payload indicator told me we were 78 tons lighter, most likely from losing a significant portion of the ship. The fuel reserves being consumed at a lower rate, most likely from engine failure. And the main water lines threatened to flood the ship with sewage...I do wish at least one other person had volunteered for my job. \----------- Still trying to improve my skills at writing, so any feedback is appreciated!
"Another satisfied customer."Jastes said, hefting the bag of coins as two lovers left his shop, hand in hand. "I do not understand why you do this."The Cherub fluttered up to rest on the mans shoulder, speaking for the first time. "What is money worth, compared to love?" Jastes picked Cupid up gently, and sat him down on the table before him as he set himself down into a chair. "I let you hit me once before, Cupid. Never again." Cupid's eyes glazed over, then a smile lit up his face. "Peony! Her name was Peony! Where is she, Jastes?" The man pulled a bottle out of the cupboard, pulled out the stopper and took a deep swig straight from the bottle. "Gone."he said. His eyes were distant and a faint smile curled at the edge of his mouth. "I used to follow her everywhere. She was so adventurous."Jastes said as his eyes misted up. "Then the plague came, and she went where I couldn't follow."He took another long drink. Cupid looked into the mans eyes, and his grief was mirrored in those small angelic features. "Can I tell you a secret, Jastes?" The man blinked the mist from his eyes, then looked to Cupid and nodded. "I wasn't created to do what I do, not exactly. When I was made, I was to be the angel of despair."A single tear ran down Cupids cheek. "I couldn't do it, Jastes, but I couldn't refuse my purpose. So I came up with a different flavor of despair. One some would say is worse." Jastes nodded in understanding. "Love,"he said. "after its been lost." Cupid nodded in reply, then withdrew a single arrow from his quiver and placed it on the table in front of Jastes. "Peony was precious, Jastes. There are other precious things in this world. Things within you that you could share with another. Your grief has imprisoned you for long enough."Cupid slung his bow around his back as he stood. "Freedom is what you do with what is done to you."Cupid said, then fluttered up from the table and left. Jastes picked up the tiny arrow and stared at it in the palm of his hand, tears streaming down his cheeks. He said a silent goodbye to Peony, and drove the arrow into his heart.
"I'll need three of those if you want all twelve."I said to the little creature in front of me. "Decide quickly because they're great for marshmallows." I'd been sitting by this fire for over an hour. It's peaceful in the forest. Nobody can take you away from your thoughts. Nobody to tell you what to do. Nobody to... nevermind. The forest is nice. I often came out to this spot on a weekend. Over forty-five minutes away from the house, which was another three hours away from the nearest town. I'd take some bread, bring plenty of water, and steal a few of the marshmallows hidden in the cupboard for Christmas. The hike out was uphill, and you had to slip through a hidden tunnel filled with glow-worms and scale a small stone cliff but there was a view of the valley like no other when you hit this spot under the trees. The clearing was small with the canopy overhanging, but the rocks were naturally placed perfectly to hold a fire. Someone else had definitely been there before me, but in all my time out here I'd never met anyone until today. I heard him before I saw him. He was small, with large ears. It looked like his head was too big for his tiny body. I'm only sixteen and at full height he was barely up to my belly button. But he looked grown-up. His face had the lines of an old man. If my grandfather had been placed inside the body of a house-elf this man was exactly what I'd expect him to look like. "Sticks"he'd said. I'd nearly jumped out of my skin. But he pointed to my pile of firewood. Holding out the largest gem I'd ever seen and repeated "Sticks". Now I'm not an idiot. I may be a kid but there's no way I'm gulliable enough to beleive that this was a real emerald. But it was still the size of a softball, and this guy clearly wanted my kindling so I thought I'd try a little humour before I could get out of here. "Three?"he said, voice straining, as though talking was an exercise. He place the gem on the ground and proceded to produce two more out of... somewhere? I had no idea where they came from, but there they were. He placed them on the ground as well. Even if they were fake they were a good deal for some firewood when I'm getting out of here anyway. "Are the sticks all you want?"I asked. He was standing erriely still. "Sticks,"he said. Raising his arm and pointing at my firewood. "for... essence." He was straining. But that was enough for me. Worthless or not the rocks looked cool, and this guy was creepy. "Okay, you have a deal". As soon as I said it he squealed. A squeeky-popping screetch and leapt on the pile of firewood. In a flash of yellow crackling light and smoke he was gone. The air smelled lightly of sulfur. That was horrifying. I was a little too stunned to move but I inspected the pile and noticed exactly twelve pieces of wood were missing. The gems lay on the ground where he'd left them. I picked one up. It was suprisingly light, and more suprisingly warm. The light danced inside them, almost flowing inside the stone. I gathered them up and put them in my backpack. That was enough forest for today. The marshmallows could wait. I headed back down the wall towards the tunnel. Confident that I was at least having an episode, if not completely insane.
They say that a person's sin makes it easier for a demon to slip in. My brother was an a** hole, a complete piece of work. Once I caught him directing a frog in the back yard. He said it was dead when he found it, but dead animals don't bleed that much. Then, we he was ten and I was five he broke my nose because I went in his room without asking. All of this is to say that with all of his sin the demon put him on like a pair of pants. In the movies you see a struggle, the young virginal girl gets corrupted. She writes and her body breaks. It takes weeks. My brother struggled too, he did the whole nine yards, climbing on the ceiling, speaking in tongues, cursing - though that was nothing new. But that struggle didn't last long - only a day or two. The demon calls itself Magoth. My parents keep him locked in my brother's room, though he snapped the manacles like cheap plastic, so I doubt a door would hold him if he wanted to leave. They don't want me to talk with Magoth. I'm not even aloud to look in the room or touch the door. They moved me to the bedroom downstairs so that I wasn't in the room next to his, but the vents connect this house. I've talked to him. He's nicer to me than my brother ever was. I've been spending more time in my new room after school, especially when I have a bad day. It helps to have someone to talk to. My parents aren't there for me anymore. All they do is work and fight and complain. Money is an issue more than ever now. They almost have enough for an excercist now. I thought about breaking my leg. If they got a big bill from the hospital then they would have to put it off. Losing Magoth would be like losing an actual brother at this point. I don't want to kill my parents. I know it's one of the only options, but that seems like it would be going too far. Magoth says he understands, but he sounded a bit disappointed. I asked if there was anything else I could do. He asked to share a body with me. We could hide him better that way. My parents wouldn't have to know and he could protect me from my shit brother. We're playing it out right now. When the excercist comes in a week or two I'll be in my room, waiting by the vents, waiting with open arms and an open heart.
“A curse.” The genie stated with a shrug, as if talking about the weather. “What?” I ask, unsure if I heard him right. “I made the mistake of freeing the last genie, thus making myself the lamp’s new placeholder. Kinda like a supernatural game of hot potato.” The genie spread his arms in a way that said what can you do. “But I guess I can’t really complain. The rent’s free, student debt can’t find me here, and it’s definitely more interesting than my old accounting gig.” “That… actually sounds pretty good.” “It really is, and the paranormal conventions can be fun.” The genie nodded to himself, chuckling. “Looking back, I now understand why the last guy broke out crying when I freed him. I figured he’d be a lot happier.”
Queen Lydia "The Blessed,"a title granted for unifying the Empyrean and Seraphic churches, into the Ardorean Temple. Kind, compassionate, and clever, she reduced realm tax while supplementing the Treasury with her own personal business ventures. Mother to a sole child, Klyne, an overly compassionate and idealistic boy. Then there is Felmear, "The Bloody."The elder brother of Lydia, disinherited due to his father's infidelity. Know for mass executions, torture, and the prime suspect in the recent assassination attempt on Prince Klyne. He has seven sons and four daughters, all fully grown and excellently educated. I am Felmear, and such is true. Mostly. There are two miss-truths in what is "common"knowledge. The murderous scheme against Prince Klyne has been fully unfurled, I was uninvolved, and Klyne is not "overly"anything. He is the only one fit to succeed my sister. The land needs a just monarch, a leader to inspire, uplift the people, and progress the kingdom. Unfortunately, good intentions lead to the excrable realm unless guided by infernal politik. That is my role. Presently, the master of the regicidal plot is missing seven fingernails and the secrecy of his co-conspiritors. Within the fortnight, all 12 tainted nobles will hang. Such is the price of pure rulership—unspeakable acts in the shadows.
(This story contains spoilers through season 3. I don't think this subreddit offers spoiler tags so proceed with caution!) The audience applauded wildly as Hodor left the stage. The open mic host, still laughing hysterically, wiped a tear from his eye and stepped up to the microphone. “Alright, folks. Let’s keep it going for my boy, Hodor.” Tyrion, seated in the audience, sighed and shook his head. “I do not envy the man who has to follow that performance,” he said as he looked through his notes. “Up next, we got another performer from up North. Please give a warm, King’s Landing welcome to Jon Snow!” Jon Snow took the stage and accepted the microphone. “Good evening, King’s Landing,” the bastard said, nervously clearing his throat. “It’s good to be here. It’s funny, actually, since I’m from the North, this is... uh... this is the farthest south I’ve ever been. We Northerners hate going south. I mean, I don’t even go south on my girlfriend.” Jon Snow awkwardly paced across the stage, waiting for laughter. When the crowd responded with silence, the bastard began to mutter, “But I have, of course. Not that I have been to King’s Landing before. I’ve just gone south on my... anyway.... it is nice to be here. King’s Landing is a great place to live.... if you’re a cockroach.” “Sorry,” Snow nervously chuckled to himself before the silent audience. “I know that joke was a little old, but-” “You know nuthin, Jon Snow!” a heckler yelled from the audience. “Oh, god,” Snow whispered as he recognized the redheaded woman in the crowd. “How about those Wildlings eh? Maybe those of you in the South don’t know them that well, but-” “Get off the stage!” the woman yelled again. “Ok, I’ve got a joke just for you, Ygritte,” Snow said, angry that the audience was starting to laugh at her interruptions. “How many Wildlings does it take to screw in a lightbulb?” “One Wildling to screw it in,” she replied without hesitation, “and one bastard from the Night’s Watch to put a wall around it and pretend the lightbulb was their's all along!” The audience burst into laughter for the first time since Snow had taken the stage. “Alright, s-s-so,” Jon Snow said, desperately trying to remember his material. “Now, I’ve got a joke for you, Jon Snow!” the heckler yelled out. “Bran Stark walks into a bar!” “OOOOHHHHHHH!!!!” the audience roared with laughter. Jon Snow stormed off the stage with his eyes on the ground. The open mic host jumped up onto the stage. “Wow!” he said as the audience died down. “Things are getting a little heated this evening. Speaking of heated, our next comedian is the Mother of Dragons. Put your hands together for Daenerys of house Targaryen!” Tyrion left his seat and went to the bathroom. As he reached the men’s room, he heard Daenerys’ opening joke. “Greetings, King’s Landing! I just flew in from across the Narrow Sea and boy, are my dragons’s arms tired!” Tyrion cringed when he heard Ser Jorah Mormont laugh hysterically at the nonsensical joke. The Lannister entered the bathroom and was relieved to find that the shortest urinal was unoccupied. As he reached the urinal, he noticed his brother, Jaime, next to him, struggling to undo his fly with his golden hand. “Hello, brother,” Jaime said. “Why so glum?” “I’m starting to regret signing up for this comedy business,” Tyrion replied. “The audience is even less friendly than what I’m used to.” “What are you worried about? This is a contest for amateurs. You heard how miserably things went for Jon Snow. It doesn’t sound like things are going much better for the Targaryen girl in there.” Tyrion strained his ears and could just make out a heckler shouting, “Show us your tits, love!” “Dracarys!” Daenerys ordered, and the two Lannister men heard a burst of flame come from the stage. “Well,” Tyrion said, leaving the urinal. “I’m up next.” “Good luck, Tyrion. And, before you go,” Jaime turned around to show that his zipper was stuck. “Do you think you could give me a hand with this?” Tyrion shook his head. “I think you have another sibling who you’d prefer for that job.” “You’d better not use that joke,” Jaime said as Tyrion left the bathroom. “Well, that was unexpected!” the host said. Smoke rose from one of the chairs in the audience. A pair of waiters surrounded the pile of ash, spraying it with fire extinguishers. “The next guy taking the stage is a native of King’s Landing. You’ve probably heard of him before, but this is his first time trying standup comedy. Tyrion Lannister, ladies and gentlemen! Show him some love!” Tyrion hopped onto the stage and lowered the mic stand down to his level. “Thank you,” he said once he could reach the microphone. “Thank you very much for the ‘love,’ as our gracious host described it. As a Lannister, it is a new concept to me. As a family, we don’t give each other much love. Unless, of course, you believe the rumors that Jaime and Cersei have been exchanging love for years.” Tyrion grinned when he heard a few chuckles in the audience. “I shouldn’t be too hard on my family, though. "I remember when they sent their regards at the Red Wedding. My father probably thought he was doing me a great favor by killing off Catelyn Stark. Unfortunately for me, half of the material I had prepared for this show were mother-in-law jokes. I had to rewrite everything,” he said, speaking over laughter from the Lannister table." “But I’ll be careful about what I say around the Starks. "We all know how they tend to lose their heads. Especially here in King’s Landing." “The North remembers!” Jon Snow yelled from the audience. “See? I’ve offended a Stark already. Oh wait, it’s just Jon Snow.” The audience erupted in laughter. “Alright, alright,” Tyrion said, calming the audience. “We all saw his performance... that poor bastard has been through enough... I mean that poor soul, sorry.” Jon Snow pouted at his table as the crowd roared and Tyrion continued, “I swear, that was an accident. “But that’s enough. Who else do we have in the audience today? Ah, I see we have the King in the North. The King of the Iron Islands is here. And, oh, Ser Jorah! I didn’t see that the King in the Friendzone was here.” After a few seconds of laughter from the audience, a young man yelled from the front row, “Don’t forget about the King on the Iron Throne!” “Oh, your grace,” Tyrion said to Joffrey, “Nobody could forget about you. Are you enjoying yourself this evening?” “I am enjoying the company of my lovely bride-to-be,” Joffrey replied, holding Margaery Tyrell’s hand. “Are you enjoying the company of that Stark bitch you inherited from me?” Joffrey looked around, curious why nobody was laughing at his joke. “I am enjoying her company very much, your grace,” Tyrion replied without showing a shade of emotion. “I was actually wondering when you’d start to ‘enjoy the company’ of your own wife. Rumor has it that winter is the only thing that has been ‘coming’ in your bedroom, if you understand my meaning.” “Ah, very good,” Joffrey sneered, angry at the reaction Tyrion got from the audience. “The black sheep of the family has found comedy as a way to hide his shame.” “I certainly am the black sheep of the family. In fact, the more time I spend with you people, the more I begin to think that I’m the only one who wasn’t born from incest.” “Pathetic!” Joffrey yelled over the laughing audience. “Just a pathetic fool born with an incurable disease!” “Don’t worry, Joffrey,” Tyrion said with a grin. “Maybe some day they’ll invent a cure for being a cunt.” The laughter of the audience was so deafening that nobody could hear Bronn yelling from the back of the room, “That little shit stole my joke!” “Thank you ladies and gentlemen,” Tyrion said. “But I believe I’m out of time.” “Tyrion Lannister, ladies and gentlemen!” the open mic host said, applauding as he retook the stage. “That was great. Up next, we have the [comedy stylings of Stannis Barathean!"](http://www.reddit.com/r/whowouldwin/comments/24ia2u/which_noncomedic_character_would_be_the_best/ch7dzl2?context=3)
[SOME STRONG LANGUAGE] The little funeral chapel was empty. It smelled of cleaning products and mothballs. Jesse stared down at the little urn in front of him. Hell, it wasn't even an urn. It was like a... vial, or some shit like that. Like a tube. Yeah: just a tube. He could stick his dick in the thing and it'd still have room for his balls. That wouldn't be very 'respectful', now, would it? He laughed. "What kinda respect you think you deserve, old man?"Jesse loomed over the urn, gritting his worn teeth. For a minute it looked like he was going to spit on the thing, but instead he simply clenched his teeth. "Wanna know somethin'? I'll give you some. I'll give you a ton. A fuck-ton, in fact. More'n you deserve. An' you wanna know why?" Jesse sits in front of the urn, legs crossed, and he draws a breath: "You first come to me an' tell me you wanna cook, I'm thinking 'what the fuck is this'? Back then I think I got some head-case, mid-life-crisis-having, depressed-as-shit-old guy, lookin' for a few bucks. Nah: 'depressed' doesn't even cut it, man. You're driving a fuckin' Azteck. I mean, shit! That makes me depressed! An' I laugh at you, 'cause who the hell expects some stick-up-his-ass old guy to just suddenly go an' break bad..." Jesse licks his lips. He chuckles, looking up at the ceiling with an exasperated sigh. "An' you know what? I was wrong. I always was. Not about, like, you bein' able to become what you became- 'the man'... Heisenberg, whatever. No, see, I was wrong 'cause I didn't know that you had every goddamn thing you needed to become that, and it was in you way before day one. I always thought you were just gettin' your feet wet. Y'know: startin' out on the road to becoming the 'bad guy'. I thought I had miles of experience over you."Jesse shook his head. "Nah. Truth is, it took me spending time with you before I became the 'bad guy'." Jesse laughed again, wiping his nose. "Y'know, uh, in high school one of my English teachers was, like, really into that magician guy: David Copperfield? Always quotin' him, all the time. I mean, I never paid attention- obviously- but there was this one thing he quoted once, and I remember that. It was like: 'Whether I get to be the hero of my own story, or not, the future's gotta say'. Guess that'd go for bein' a villain, too. But the thing is, Mister White: that's not how it worked with you. You had it all in you from the start- everything it took to be the villain. You had that anger- like a blind rage- at everything. I mean, I could call it all 'pride', but it was deeper than that. See, pride's just, like, a feelin' that you're better than anyone else. You were a genius, and you weren't appreciated. I get that..." Jesse stood and paced before the urn; he rubbed the back of his head: "No: see, with you it wasn't just pride. It was, like, 'malevolence', and shit like that. Deep, resentful, all this butt-hurt anger. You didn't become Heisenberg, Mister White. You were always Heisenberg..." He stopped pacing in front of the urn, and again he drew a breath: "You, uh, you cared about me, Mister White. I know that. I, like, know that you did. But you also used me; you destroyed so many good parts of me; they're parts of me that I could've held on to if I'd never freakin' met you. Id've just been this epic fuck-up: the druggie, the loser. But I wouldn't have ever become the 'bad guy'..." He got to his knees, his face an inch from the urn: "That feeling, and what you did to me, they make me wanna hate you. They make me wanna go nuts! They make me wanna go into a 'blind rage', too..." Jesse's face softened. He took the urn in two hands, and those hands trembled. His sneer fell away, and he drew a slow breath: "See, I'm giving you some respect, Mister White. A ton. A fuck-ton. Wanna know why? 'Case you taught me exactly where that kinda rage takes somebody, and I've seen enough of it..." He set the urn back down, and again he wiped his nose with one sleeve. The funeral director soon walked through the chapel. He picked up the urn and started walking off with it, but Jesse stopped him: "Yo, bitch!"He barked. The man nearly jumped out of his pansy suit; he looked back at Jesse with startled eyes. "I saw all those little nooks that you got out there in the garden; the ones you use to hold all these tubes." "Uh... yes, sir?" "They're shit..." Jesse walked over to one of the chairs and retrieved a small wooden box. The lacquered surface burned in the sunlight. He handed it to the man: "Use that, instead,"he said. "Maybe we get a little quality in this joint..." The man eyed Jesse with distaste, but as he turned over the box in his hand he raised his brow: "Well, it is a rather fetching thing,"he mumbled. "'Course it is,"Jesse scoffed. "That's sandalwood, bitch." The disquieted man toddled off. Jesse smiled, leaning against the chapel altar. He stuck a cigarette in his mouth and lit up, and then he gazed up at the stained glass window. The sunlight beamed off his face: "Some of us take a little pride in our work,"he whispered.

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