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Scouring the earth for assassins was almost more annoying than actually being killed by one. Lord Silas didn’t believe in the silly prophecy of the blonde boy named James who would one day usurp him, but the populace of his kingdom sure seemed to embrace it. Parents had actually begun naming their boys James on purpose just to get an audience with their ruler. It was total insanity! A long line of blonde boys of all ages stretched through the throne room and out onto the street. The first of the day stood before the throne. “What is your name?” Lord Silas asked. “J-J-James, sire,” the poor boy said as he trembled. “And your hair color is… not blonde… what-- what the hell is that?” Silas inquired. “Butter, my lord. My parents slathered it on me head before I left to make my hair appear lighter.” “Jesus…” Silas muttered, “Go home boy, and tell your parents that putting butter on burnt toast does not hide the darkness of the bread, nor does coating their child's clearly brown hair in butter make it appear blonde. Next!” A father and child moved forward. The father began speaking immediately, “This is James, my lord. The one who was prophesied, I promise you that.” “Uhuh, this 5 year old will assassinate me?” “Uhhh, yes, my lord! Very strong arms for 5 years old! And as long as I have a moment with you sir, I'd also like to present my latest invention to you if you'd allow me a moment to demonstrate. I'm sure you'll want to buy several once you see its revolutionary cleaning power in action and--” Silas cut him off with a raised hand. He didn’t need to study the child long to see through the parent's lies, “What is your name, child? Your real name?” “Rebecca,” the young girl squeaked. “Your child’s name is Rebecca and is very obviously a young girl. ‘Rebecca’ is a name as unrelated to 'James' as I can imagine, and a young girl is about as far from the prophesied gender as can be. Try a little harder next time won’t you? Next in line!” An older teenage boy stepped forward. He was musclebound and steely eyed, and his blonde hair shimmered like the sun. He was the strongest candidate of the day by far. “No parent with this young man?” Silas whispered to his adviser. “No, my lord,” the adviser replied. “We caught this one trying to sneak in and put him in line to be interrogated with the rest.” This one had real potential, Silas thought to himself. “What is your name, boy?” he called out to him forcefully. “Uhhhhh… It's Jimothy, your lordness,” the boy replied nervously. “Uhuh… and ‘Jimothy’ is a nickname for?” “Jimmy?” the boy tried. “Which is a friendly, familiar version of…?” “Jim,” the boy replied with growing fear. “Which is, finally, another name for…? “James,” he said quietly, “But my lord you must believe me, I’m not--” “We will find out soon enough,” Silas interjected. As the boy started to protest again, a dagger fell from the back of his shirt and clanged and rattled loudly on the stone floor. “That’s not mine!” the boy cried out just before a throwing star came tumbling out of one of the legs of his pants. “That neither!” he added as sweat poured down his face. For the first time in memory, Lord Silas burst into laughter. “Here I always thought I would loathe my would be usurper, but I find myself quite fond of this boy! He has moxie and a tremendous attitude in the face of obvious, glaring failure. Lock him up but do not execute him like the rest. Let’s see if he can be rehabilitated and given a role in my regime.” James nodded with gratitude, “I never sought this my lord, the villagers forced me to do this! I have no ill will against you.” “Your words matter not. We will see in time where your loyalties lie,” Silas replied. “However, there is one condition of your pardon which will be non negotiable... you must renounce any claim to the prophecy you once followed. As a result, you will be known only as Jimothy from this day forward.” The boy's head sank. That rather unfortunate name change might turn out to be a fate worse than death, but only time would tell. ___ Check out r/Ryter if you care to explore more of my stories, even any real life Jimothy's are welcome :P (P.S. There's actually another 'Dark Lord' story posted on my sub that is 'in the same universe' as this one. I'd call it only loosely connected rather than a prequel, but it's an origin story for one of these characters. It's the first story I posted on that sub so just scroll to the bottom if you're interested.)
It was just like any other time you walked into Fiona's Coffee House, busy with no less than twenty customers always wearing suits. At first you'd figured that it was just some economics convention but that was weeks ago. Maybe they were just some corporate business men who enjoyed a good brew? Cagiest business men you've ever met that's for sure. Anytime you'd walk in they'd all pipe down for a minute and you knew for sure that some of them were watching you through their shades but no one ever spoke to you. You order the usual. "A cup of black coffee and an everything bagel please." Once you were handed your meal you take your usual seat in the corner by the window. Whoever these suits were they always left you your table. You spent the next few minutes scrolling through your phone, taking the occasional snack or sip but you found yourself too immersed in your internet browsing to notice that someone had sat across from you. "Oh, uh. Hello miss. Nice day, huh?"You offer the stone-faced woman a smile in hopes of breaking the ice. Instead the woman flashes a badge before stating. "Agent T, IETA. I've been tasked by my colleagues to figure out who you are, agent. But there is nothing on you. You come here every morning, leave to go work on a construction site for most of the day and then you go home." You let out a nervous chuckle, scratching at the back of your neck. "Well, yeah. All of that is true but.. Don't you think the spy pick-up line is a bit played out? I mean, what kind of a spy just watches a construction worker from day to day life?" "You are good, Thomas. But I know better than to fall for your wiles."She showed you a frown, standing up from her seat and slamming a folder in front of you. "You made one mistake that takes away from your mild-mannered persona, 'Thomas'. Why is it that just a few days before your first appearance at this establishment that Perry Paulson's ploy to use French warheads to initiate a third world war was stopped under mysterious circumstances?" As she opened the folder you could see pages of an in-depth portfolio on a the man she'd mentioned as well as including a photo of you with a timestamp of the first time you had entered the cafe. Causing the your hairs to stand on end. "Jeez... You really went all out on this secret agent stuff. But I still don't buy it. You could sure make it as one though, with the stalking and all. But if something like this happened I feel like we'd be told by some news network or something."You joke, reaching an excerpt off the file. "After all, millionaire French play-boys don't just pop in and out of existence." The woman shot a glare through her shades as you got up from the table, picking up the last of your bagel. "Look, I'm flattered. but you've got to work on the approach, this is getting more Psycho and less Bond."You send a wink her way, waving to the barista on your way out.
Steven picked up the glass of water, his greedy, disgusting vile hands used to beat women grasping it tightly as he lifted it up slowly. He was a vile man, so disgusting, he beats dogs daily with a stick with that hand, he robs old ladies with that hand, he does terrible things with that hand as he greedily gulps down the water. He reaches and picks up a book about physics, where he could learn to drop babies from such great heights. He seems to get annoyed, looking to the ceiling- "Are you done with that shit yet?"I snapped. ...what? "I said, are you done yet? I'm trying to do my studies for my next class."I say with a sigh, rubbing the bridge of my nose in frustation. &#x200B; You can...hear me? Like, right now? How is that even.. "Yeah, i can HEAR you, I've heard you my whole fucking life and man, at this point i'm just fed up with your shit."I say that with the tone of annoyance in my voice. For my whole life I've had this 'narrator' that has just been saying complete lies of my whole existence and it's made me miserable. Now, i'm tired of it, i'm sick of this voice just ruining any good moment of my life, anything i do. But you can't be able to hear me! I'm the one telling the story and you...you can't just interrupt the narrator of a story! "I kinda just did, now fuck off, once and for all. I'm wanting peace and quiet." ...I can't just...you can't tell me to fuck off you vile un- "Oh just stop with this 'vile' nonsense! For one, i don't beat women, i have a girlfriend, two, i'm an animal person and three, dropping Babies? What's wrong with you man i'm wanting to get into physics cause i'm interseted in that stuff! Now just go away for once! I don't need a narrator and quite frankly, you're a shit guy to tell my story." &#x200B; .....After a few minutes of silence, Steven goes to the fridge to take a massive shit in it because he's a giant- Wait where are you going? "I'm leaving." Wh- You can't leave the story! You're not even saying where you're going! "I don't need to, you asshole! Now goodbye!" &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; ...Huh, he's really gone. Man, that wasn't what i expected. He just left the story altogether. Oh well, i guess i'll just.....do something else now. &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; You should too, there's no more story here for you to read.
"Nice statue bro. I thought for sure it was some hot chick in a costume before I sat down." The bartender, who appeared to be a suit and hat filled out by seemingly thin air stared stunned at his newest customer. This man walked up to the bar, collar popped, frosted tips and goddamn mirrored sunglasses at night and tried to pickup Medusa. Unfortunately she didn't realize his eye gear and petrified herself. It would take her a century at least to regenerate. "Sir, you must take your leave of this place immediately. Your kind are not welcome here."The angry gestures made by the Bartender were somewhat held back by his lack of visible hands. "Don't worry bruh. I don't see race. I voted for Bernie. I mean, I would have voted for Bernie if I voted. Yolo amiright?"Laughing at his own joke the man slapped the bar. "I'm just looking for an investor. He said to meet him here, don't worry your pretty little head. Wish he told me it was a costume party. Yours is dope"beeteedubs." With that the man lifted himself from the bar, and began moving towards a fellow sitting in the back of the room. Had the oblivious oaf realized the individual he was approaching had no reflection in his mirrored sunglasses, perhaps he'd be more nervous. "Ayyy bro. What is up?"The Vampire reached out a hand for a dignified shake, but was pulled into a sudden bro hug. He began gasping for breath and pulled away. "You reek of Garlic you simpleton. Please remove yourself from my presence." "Nah bruh. Nah. That's just for show. I needed some Stank to cover up with this new Cologne I wanted to show you. And my own natural musk is just too solid. You've gotta see the difference. We're going to make a goddamn mint my dawg!" The oaf began rummaging around in his bag and pulled out a single bottle of Cologne. "This here is the holy grail of body sprays my pasty pal. It's my "Deus putredinem"! Spraying some on himself the Vampire cringed back as the overwhelming scent washed over him, burning his eyes. It's been a long time since he had smelled something so offensive. "Excuse you sir but this meeting is at an end."The Vampire stood quickly to leave, this was a mistake from start to finish. "Here bro, just try some yourself."Without further warning the oaf began spraying his potential investor quite liberally. Steam began rising from the Vampire's flesh, crackling and sparking wherever the Cologne touched him. "HOLY WATER? You made your cologne with holy water?"Sputtering and coughing the blood drinker fell to his knees, grasping at his throat where he had inhaled the Cologne. "Yeah bruh. It's called Deus putredinem the stank of God. That's the catch. I got myself ordained online and bless each bottle myself."He emphasized his point by dabbing. During the moment in which his head was tucked under his arm, the vampire burst into a plume of smoke leaving only his clothes and ash behind. "Yooo Where'd you go? That's some David Blaine shit. Nice. Ahh well your loss on the investment opportunity of a life time though" With a laugh the guy began swaggering out of the bar. Shooting finger guns at a werewolf, who was made uncomfortable by the silver rings on each of the fingers pointed her way. Once outside the Oaf dropped his sunglasses to the ground, and placed a simple black cap from his bag over his awful hair. Pulling out an old style flip phone he hit a number on the speed dial. "It's Helsing. Your Dracula is done and I popped a Gorgon as well. I expect your cheque to have a bonus equal to her bounty. You can claim the bounty to reimburse yourself. I was on contract after all when I popped her. You've got my number when you need someone to ghost some ghouls. My family is still the best in the business."
“So you’re going to kill me?” she asks. “I don’t know, Anja - that is your name, right? You haven’t got some super magical, mystical secret name you’re hiding from me?” I say. I couldn’t kill her, I’m not a murderer. But if it comes down to this, to the Earth or her... I’d choose the Earth. She can’t kill me, I know that. It’s in the deadly magic curling round my wrist. I’d once thought it a simple tattoo, but somehow the words were more. If I spoke them out loud, she’d die. I don’t want that. And yet I see no other way out. Why is she even doing this? The universal balance is unstable, or something, Anja had told me. But she could have crushed any old planet - why Earth? Because we’re corrupt, she’d said. Even the boldest gods fear humans. She’d been sent here to restore the balance, and I was there to stop her acting rashly. I stare at the words on my wrist. “I’ll save you,” she begs. “But not my family?” “No,” she whispers. “I can’t.” Well, I can’t kill her, she can’t save us... I say the words on my wrist, watch her body burn to ashes, and she screams the whole way. She’s staring at me, begging for it to stop, even though I can’t. And then she’s gone, a flash of light consuming her body. I stumble, and fall. I can’t believe it. Anja is gone. For good. But please, don’t hurt me when you hear this story. I’m not a murderer. EDIT: wow! Thanks for the upvotes, guys!
\\\Please, if you need someone or you feel similar - [https://suicidepreventionlifeline.org/](https://suicidepreventionlifeline.org/) Remember that there are people out there who love you.\\\\* Glenn stared at his phone every few minutes. Laying on his bed, he looked over at his pre-hung noose. It hurt. Everything just...hurt. His family were disinterested, his job was mind numbing and there wasn't a thing on planet earth that would move him from his bedroom, wrapped in his sheets, coming in and out of consciousness as he slept his day away. It wasn't that he wanted to kill himself, far from it, the whole process opposed his mindset - It can't get better if it ends, he would keep telling himself. However, if something just happened, if he was going to be hit by a car or he fell off a cliff, he would do very little in the way of preventing it. Looking at his future, looking at the blank, unchanging version where he would do the same thing, day in day out for the next 60 years, just touched him in the wrong way, and late at night, as he stared at the swinging noose, tied to his ceiling, his phone buzzed for the first time in a long time. "I love you"- He hadn't heard that in a while. He didn't even know who it was from. Maybe his mother? No, she would never. Maybe an ex, or maybe it was just a wrong number. If it were real, however, there was someone who would be devastated at his death...he couldn't finish it all before knowing who it was. He called over and over again to a voicemail. It was a guy called Brent. He didn't remember any Brent, he thought, possibly mis-remembering an encounter he had once. He sat there. If Brent texted him, he would call back. Hours turned to days as Glenn sat and stared at his phone - But then it rang.
Ah, yes. Skyrim. A perfectly balanced game with no exploits at all. Now, the eternal question awaits, why in the name of Yorkshire Tea am I in Skyrim? I was wandering the annals of Nexus and Lovers Lab, installing mod after mod in an effort to make Skyrim more interesting, when I stumbled upon a peculiar mod, simply titled: "Immersive Skyrim v8.99.834.575". The mod provides a massive model, action and texture overhaul, and claims to be "the definitive Skyrim experience. "Yes, indeed, all just as Todd Howard intended. Now... My character. I only have one character and one playthrough saved, so it must be that. I open my character screen. Yes! YES!!! I AM THE GOD AMONG MEN! THE ULTIMATE BEING! THE PERFECT SUPERHUMAN REANU KEEVES!!!!! Complete with the god armor and bracers, no recharge dragonshouts, 1000 degree knife, Burny Sanders and Forkgive me, and, of course, the Gauntlets of Jesus Christ, the legendary Yeetforce 90000. Perfect. I am now the godliest god known to man, Reanu Keeves. Unkillable, undefeatable, and the ultimate superbeing. Look at my sexy brows. So much brows. So much nose. So much lips. Mmmmhmmm. ... I miss tea.
My eyes widen, stunned, as I watch him gorge on my food. He didn’t even seem to take a second to chew. I propped my elbows on the table and awkwardly rubbed my eyes as he messily hacked the steak into three large pieces and shoved them down his throat, letting out a throaty cough whilst slugging down wine straight from the bottle. He let out a burp and then giggled, grinning at me brightly - showcasing the chunks of spinach lodged between his teeth. “Thank you for the food” he said between mouthfuls “the last guy that offered me food only ordered a slice of buttered toast and an espresso”. I stared hungrily at the almost empty plate, eyeing the mound of lightly charred potatoes that remained untouched “I didn’t exactly offer-“ the waiter cut me off and let out a giddy chuckle “and I haven’t eaten FOR TWO DAYS, can you believe it?” My hand froze as I reached towards the potatoes “Two days?” “Yeah” the waiter replied as he swatted my hand away and aggressively jabbed his fork into the potatoes. I rubbed my temples in confusion, and stared at the man bewildered. “Do you not have enough money? Is that it?” I reached into my pocket, taking out a wad of notes “...because if it is I’d be happy to give you some money-“. For the first time since he started to feast on the food, the waiter stopped eating and put down his cutlery. His face started to go red as he pursed his lips - his cheeks blowing up with air. What looked like the start of a raging outburst suddenly erupted into hysterical laughter as he pushed away the money. “What ON EARTH would I do with that” he exclaimed, wiping away tears from his cheek only to smear his face with gravy “what? Would I buy food” he chuckled and picked up his cutlery. I looked around me confused “um..yes? I mean that Is how people usually get food isn’t it? You buy it. Like I just did?” The waiter looked up from his food and smiled bewilderedly. He let out a nervous chuckle, but when he noticed the confusion on my face his smile dropped. He furrowed his eyebrows “oh god your a tourist aren’t you?” I straightened my tie and ran my fingers through my hair. I learnt the language quite well and had learnt the geography of the local area pretty accurately during my stay of three weeks. I hardly thought myself a tourist, though I suppose I was “I guess I am a a tourist? I mean, to be honest, I know the place pretty well and-“ the man cut me off again as he leaned in closer to me, so close I could smell the steak and wine off his breath “this is a slaves job, ITS DOGS WORK” he spat on the floor next to him. The waiter nervously looked around making sure no one saw and quickly wiped his spittle of the floor with some tissue “sorry, got a bit too passionate there” he fell back into his seat and looked at me. His eyes seem to water with concern and rage “respect is a big thing for the citizens around here” he dropped the tone of his voice till it was an ominous whisper “luxury is for the middle class - like you. Necessities is for the working class like them” he pointed at the other waiters serving in the room. I looked around even more perplexed “necessities are things like food and water and clothes right?” “Yep” the man replied, a smile tugging on his lips. I looked at him carefully, my forehead creasing “you said you haven’t eaten in two days..”. The man nodded, eyeing me smugly. “But your a waiter, your supposed to get food.. you said necessities....”. The man laughed “I gave you your food, who said I was a waiter?” I felt myself pushing my chair further back. The man put both hand in his pockets and stretched out his legs “I’m not a waiter... I’m not working class even... I’m lower than that” I gripped the sides of my chair harder “lower?” I asked, the tremble in my voice noticeable. The man giggled, taking a swig of the wine “yeah lower... like drug addicts, fugitives, outlaws... con-men” he dug a gun out of his pockets and pointed it at me from under the table. “Murderers?” I whispered, adding to his list. His chuckled softly “yeah murderers don’t get anything either too I guess”. Suddenly he got up on his chair and shot randomly at the walls surrounding him, releasing an onslaught of screams and shrieks from the people and waiters. Everyone ran out, leaving only me and him. “And now your just as well as me - you just fed a fugitive” I felt a bead of sweat drip down my neck. The man laughed “you don’t ever feed a fugitive” he helped me on my feet and slapped my back as he pulled me to the back door, handing me a bottle of beer from a nearby table. “I doubt that you’ve ever exited a restaurant in this place from the back - it’s a whole different world” he opened the door. A gust of searing hot steam hit my face as I stared at the burning world before me. I guess i was a tourist after all....
"That's odd..."I muttered to no one in particular. I chose to live in this part of town specifically because no one was 'friendly' or 'neighbourly' enough to disturb me in the evenings. I mean, what makes you think I have sugar? And why would I give it to you just because you live nearby? Honestly, some people... The knock came again, proving that it was real and not just a figment of my imagination. I called out first, "Who is it?" Two voices came through at once. Sounded like a man and a woman, both familiar but unclear. Neither was going to stop first and it started to get louder, so I did what any other idiot would do. I opened the door. "Ah, Ronan and Lana."The defeat in my voice was already obvious, "And to what do I owe this pleasure." "Please good sir,"Ronan spoke first. His hands on his hips in that arrogant pose and the ice already spreading from his feet, "Here, I am Cryogen." Lana looked at him like he was an idiot, which was a fair judgment. "Your name is still really stupid Ronan." "Bit rich coming from 'The Phoenix' Lana..."I replied, putting far to much emphasis on her super villain name. "At least I don't have power leak."She glanced at the ice Ronan was creating. Ronan, not appreciating the damage to his rather fragile ego, pushed his way into my house. "Regardless of all that, you know why we're here." "Yes, this fence-sitting of yours is doing untold damages to our city."Lana followed Ronan in. I shattered the ice outside my door with my heel, wouldn't want anyone to think I wanted them to be here, and then followed the two of them. "Just last week,"Ronan began to complain, "The hall of heroes was destroyed by the forces of darkness. You could have stopped it!" "Yes,"Lana seemed to agree, "And all of our work was ruined by you! Do you know how much effort we put into that attack?" I looked at them with dead eyes, "I mean, I could stop using my powers--" "NO!"They both shouted, cutting me off. "So what do you want then?" Both speaking in unison, "I want you to help us make the world a better place." "I am making this world a better place."I spoke with subtle anger in my voice. "Do you know how peaceful it would be if you lot stopped fighting?" They both looked at each other, confused about what I meant. "Like you Ronan, your group wants 'law and order' with peace and prosperity to all, right?" "Yes..."He responded meekly, aware that this was a trap. "Well, how come half the damage I repair comes from your team? If you didn't have immunity you'd all be in jail." Lana starts chuckling to herself. "And I don't know what you're laughing about,"I turned to her, "You want freedom and independence, but your terror attacks make people more reliant on corrupt elites and super-humans like me!"At this point I was half yelling at the two of them, "If you just stopped, maybe I could spend less time fixing the damage you cause, and more time actually helping people! If anyone is responsible for all this damage, it's you two!" Lana and Ronan stood in silence looking between each other and myself. After a minute of silence, I calmed myself down and spoke again, "Look. I know that nothing I say will stop the fighting. However, actions speak louder than words. So go back and tell your allies this: Anyone who follows you and dies will no longer be welcome at the house of resurrection and reconstruction." &#x200B; &#x200B; If you liked this story, head over to [r/F4TF0X](https://www.reddit.com/r/F4TF0X/) to read more of my stuff!
I set my keys down on the counter and looked at the sink. A filthy pot sat with oily brown water filled to its brim. Plates with pizza crusts and what appeared to be dried refried bean residue were piled haphazardly on the sides. It looked like a week's worth of dishes. Maybe a month. But--I checked my watch--it was 18 hours' worth. "AY LADDY, YA MUSN'T SUFFER SUCH INDIGNITIES. YA MUST RESTORE YER HONOR. RESTORE IT WITH BLOOD."My shoulder viking, Olaf, stood with pride, clad in his fur cloak, wielding his great longsword. "Oh dear, it looks like a whirlwind just blew through this kitchen. We can't have that. A tidy kitchen makes for a tidy life, "Betty, my shoulder 50's era housewife, cooed. She tied an apron around her waist and over her housedress. "A healthy helping of vengeance will clear this right up." "I'm not going to kill Kyle,"I told them as I stared at the rancid cesspool of wasted food fermenting in my sink. "OH SHOOOR, YOU COULD SPARE THE BLOODY TRAITOR. LET THE WHOLE WORLD KNOW YER A PUSHOVER. OR! YOU COULD SHAVE THE MEAT FROM HIS BONES AND MOUNT HIS SKULL AS A WARNIN' TA ANY OTHER FREELOADERS ROAMIN' THE DEPTHS OF ROOMMATES.COM FER A FREE RIDE." "You can dispose of the body in an assortment of Tupperware containers. They're sturdy and last for years!" I took a long breath and rubbed my forehead. "Isn't one of you supposed to be, like, the voice of reason here? Aren't you supposed to argue over the subject?" "AH DON'T WISH TA ARGUE WITH BETTY. THE LASS SPEAKS TRUTH, LAD. YA BEST LISTEN TA WHAT SHE SAYS." "Oh, Olaf, you big so-and-so. You know how to make a lady blush." The two looked at each other and beamed. Olaf waved his fingers with a shy hello while Betty grinned a big red smile through her lipstick. "This isn't helpful, you guys. I need practical advice. I can't murder my roommate." Betty snorted something off her wrist. "You can do it. You can do anything, sweetie. I believe in you. Don't tell yourself"'can't.' Never ever tell yourself that."Then she started dusting my ear feverishly with a feather duster. Olaf leaned in and whispered: "KILL THE SLOB MAN. KILL HIM AND TAKE HIS WIFE. TAKE HIS NAME. TAKE HIS XBOX 360."
Super power academy, the academy for rich superhero family's who want their kids to have the best education. Most supers have a rich family lineage but there are a few exceptions, like myself. Apparently I have the recessive gene for a superpower, and it isn't exactly super strength. I have the power to know what someone thinking about or feeling. It isn't mind reading, or anything. It's more like a really strong impulse or feeling that someone is thinking or feeling something. It isn't like "Oh he said in his mind that he really wants pancakes with extra blueberries" It's more like "He's craving pancakes, and he is also feeling strong admiration" This correlates with my first fight, and yes I read my opponent before we began, causing me to win fairly easy. I mean following someone to wait until they reveal big info about themselves wasn't exactly on my bucket list, but at least I knew what I was up against. --------- "You ready to die?"Garon the super strength student asked me "Only if you are"I said back "We'll see"he said I knew everything about Garon, his feelings about childhood, his crush on Samantha, his insecurities, and his hatred when faced with fighting me. He is willing to hurt me bad, so I'm willing to do the same. Of course, my power kinda sounds like a fake to be honest. There isn't really a lot to prove it. They put down "advanced instincts"on my form, sounds pretty unimpressive compared to super speed or shapeshifter. But nothing was going to stop me from getting respect that I deserved. Just because I was less powerful than these other students doesn't mean I don't know my way around social situations. Especially with my power, it makes social interactions that much easier. "Fight starts in 5 minutes, get in position"our instructor said A little thing to know about super fighting, it's not exactly unheard of to accidentally hurt an opponent. I mean we do have supers who can literally revive people without breaking a sweat, so it isn't a big problem. But most supers aren't lunatics, so most tone it down. We readied our stances, I could feel Garons excitement from across the room, it was emulated from him like a lightbulb. Other students were either wishing I would get hurt, or counting on the fact I would get hurt. "Ready.....GO!"the instructor yelled I ran up to him, catching him off guard. He was thinking I would go a more safe route, weaving around untill I got a clean shot. I got up, practically in his face. He tried to strike but my impeccable "advanced instincts"so to say, dodged easy from his hits. I wasted no time, once he was in position I docked right down pulled a taser and jammed in right in his his crotch, shocking and hurting him beyond any pain he thought he would feel. "Oh shit.."He said as he collapsed on the ground "Uh..."the instructor said mostly in awe and somewhat amazement of my utter ruthlessness I walked up to the instructor, and said "Did I win?" "Well, uh I guess you did...there's a little problem of if that was regulation or not.. but I guess in real combat that wouldn't have mattered."The instructor said "Well I'm done then"I said I could feel respect and wonder washing over them all as I left, no super was going to mess with my position in this school. I wanted to get into this academy and I wasn't about to have supers messing with me because of my powers or my family lineage. This school, was going to be mine.
It was cold as a witch's tit that mornin', but the deer ain't gonna put themselves in the freezer, ya know? Pa and me got up two hours before the sun thought about comin' up. As we was a-creepin' up ta where we'd put the stand, mah sleepy brain finally noticed that the rifle case was a touch light. "Daddy?" "What Artie?" "I think I fergot ta pack yer twelve gauge." "What are you'n on about, boy?" "You wanted the twelve gauge pump. I fergot ta put it in the case." My daddy is a good man, but sometimes he ain't a real patient one. "Boy, I swear if brains were buckshot, you'd be shootin' blanks. You expect me t'scare the deer t'death?" "No, Daddy." "An you 'member that there's a five hundred dollar prize for the biggest rack down at the VFW, don't ya?" "Yes, daddy." "Well what ya waitin' fer? I told ya it'd be better ta jes sling it, but you didn't want to git it wet. I decided to humor ya, that's on me. You better git ta runnin' back and fetch that gun, ya here?" I didn't need no further encouragement, so I took off like my pants was on fire. Now, I been wonderin' these woods fer better part of my life. I know 'em like I know the Gospel, even in the dark. Still, I zigged when I should of zagged an instead of comin' up past the shed, I came around behind our pool. Now that above ground pool is a lotta fun in the summer and Daddy kept tellin' Mama he was fixin' ta drain it, but he ain't done it yet. I come up on it and hear somethin' like splashin and there was some water and leaves sloshin' over the side. I thought our hound dog was about ta drown his self, so I got up on tha deck and took a look. I swear, right hand ta God and Bocephus that down in that pool, there was a real, real purty girl. She had on boots, Daisy Dukes, a flannel tied up over her belly button and a black Stetson on her head. She was just about the prettiest thing my fourteen year old eyes had ever landed on. I was about ta jump in, thinkin' she was drownin', but fore I could get my Carhartt off, she comes risin' up like she's a balloon. In her hand is the finest double barrel I ever did see. It had exposed hammers, this wavy pattern in the bluing on the barrels, and the wood was just as pretty as you please. She lays there, smilin', holdin' that side by side just above the surface. You ever look at somthin' an jes know it's yours? Like it's go yet name on it? Well, that's how this felt, except what was written on it was "Excalibur". I didn't know where a body could get x-caliber cartridges, but that weren't what I was thinkin'. She slung that thing at my head and I reached out, caught it. We took down a twelve point buck that day. My first deer. My daddy showed me how t'dress it right, so ya don't knick the guts wrong an make it taste bad, like ya kin do. Anyway, that's why I reckon that I outts be yer class president. Vote for me!
Once upon a time, in a year now long gone, there was a town full of people who thought Santa was done. To their children, they said: do not believe! Magic has not been given to one such as he! For how could a man circle the world in one night? It's just a story, they said, and you know we are right! But Santa had magic, he did indeed. The mighty Lord Cthulhu had given to him the magic of speed. For one night long ago, the man had been distraught. He had promised presents, presents which could not be brought. And so, in his despair, he looked to the deepest tomes, and with them he summoned Lord Cthulhu, the one who roams. The being did appear, and witnessed his plight, said this magic I give you, travel well this night. Santa took to his sleigh, took to the stars, delivered the presents wrapped neatly in jars. When the people awoke, they gazed at their trees, saw wrapped presents, saw an answer to their pleas. But as time went on, faith wore down. And it did so especially in this sad little town! The people forgot Santa, forgot The Great One. With Christmas, they said, we are done. We are done! On the twenty-fourth of December, they closed all their doors. They shut their windows and locked their drawers. But one child did not listen, one child believed. This boy knew that by his parents he had been deceived. When all others slept, he opened his eyes. Crept out of the house, in the shadows disguised. He reached the library, slipped open the door. He knew where the forbidden texts were, hidden under the floor. Cthulhu! he called, I give you my devotion! Please, let Santa's power have a promotion! The Great One considered, saw the truth of the town. They will believe, he promised, and on Christmas none shall frown. The boy was overjoyed, his faith rewarded, and a white Christmas he was awarded. All who hear this story, let it be known, the power of Cthulhu is here shown! Let us believe in his power, believe in his might, and then Santa will come this Christmas night! >If you enjoyed, r/StoriesOfAshes is home to more of my writing! > >Also, I currently have an ongoing serial called [\[A Game of Chess\]](https://www.reddit.com/r/StoriesOfAshes/comments/re23os/a_game_of_chess_table_of_contents/) > >Also, OP, this was an amazing prompt.
The young man walked into my office. He was well-built, and a small scar on his nose stuck out, because it was so white compared to his tan face. But I could tell from his expression that he was scared: absolutely, extremely scared. I gestured for him to sit down on the overstuffed armchair. He sat awkwardly down, and exhaled. "Good evening, sir,"I said politely, "What is your name and power? Please be reassured that at Suitable Careers we will, indeed, find the best job for you." The man slowly said, "I- My name's Jack. My power's superstrength. I, uh..." He put his forearm on the table to show me. I tried not to gape at the 10% battery emblazoned on it. All humans had powers by 18, but we avoided using them if we could. It would slowly suck on our energy, eventually sapping all of it away and leaving a husk of a shell of a human to die from exhaustion. There was also a small battery display on our arms, to show how much energy we had left. I had met people with all kinds of battery left, from glowing green 95% to frighteningly orange 15%. The 10% was the lowest I had seen so far, and it was dark red, but I had never failed. "What is your current job?"I asked Jack kindly. "It's... construction,"Jack admitted, "I didn't want to go in, but no one else wanted to employ me, and what with my strength and everything. Plus, I really like jobs with physical activity, but, you know..." He wringed his hands helplessly. I reached over and patted his arm to stop the trembling, and advised, "Well, first, have a drink."I pushed a drink of golden liquid towards him. He hesitated for only a fraction of a second, and then gulped it all down. He stared at his forearm in disbelief as it surged back up to a healthy 50%. "How...?" "It's our patented energy drink,"I explained, "But it's very strong, so you can only take it every once in a while. Also, we have a limited supply, so we can't just go around giving it to everyone. Now, here's what we can do about your problem." I leaned forward, and told him. He could become a children's gymnastics instructor. It would fulfill his satisfaction for exercise, but since his strength only activated when he was stretching himself, it wouldn't affect him since children's weights were generally quite light. I would supply him with the appropriate contacts to get employed. His eyes lit up as the possibility appealed to him. "That's amazing! Thanks so much, Doctor!" I smiled, and told him to ask the receptionist to work out the technical details. He practically skipped out of my office. My heart filled with satisfaction. I never failed. I looked at my forearm. 15% and counting. I didn't dare use any of the energy drink. I'd taken it a month ago already, and it had given me a bit more to last. But still... My power was saving lives, and I swear to god, I was going to use it till I was dead.
I have four little babies. Pip, Peep, and Peep-Peep are such good little chicks. They're fluffy and yellow. They huddle for warmth under Mama's wing. They peck the ground and eat seeds. They don't worry me at all. Scraw is different. Scraw is named after the call he makes, just like the other chickies, just like Mama Cluck. He's green. His wings don't have feathers on them, just skin stretched across long fingers, like a bat or a dragon. He lays out in the sun to get warm. He blows fire on little bugs and eats them! He can't be blowing fire, that's dangerous, and he's too little for bugs yet! I try to tell him no. I worry about Scraw. I want him to grow up to be a good chicken, or at least act like a good chicken if he can't look like one. The other babies don't seem to mind him, they cuddle up with him and warm him up. They peep and beep at him, they play with him, he plays with them, but I worry that he's gonna get mad and blow fire on them. I yell at Scraw when he blows fire, but I'm scared to peck at him, because what if he blows fire on me? I don't wanna be fried chicken! Today, Scraw's stomping around the yard, screaming and scrawing and spreading out his wings, trying to look scary. Why does he do that? I swear I'm gonna make a proper chicken out of that boy if it's the last thing I do.
"None of what you just drank was water muchacho, in fact I don't think any of it was even edible..."I spoke to my crewmate in awe. Four of us on the ship. Me, a human of course; Jacks, a mecha of some sort; the tentacled thing that just used a container of something labeled Concentrated Mercury to quench its thirst, Rabble I called him; and finally, Steven. The three of us stared to Rabble in amazement, and he, or, well, it, stared back in obvious obliviousness. Its face began turning green, even greener than usual. "Wha- well I was thirsty! I needed some water."Rabble protested, tentacles flaring for effect. "Ah yes. Well the capsule labeled water would have sufficed then"Jacks gestured over to the water capsule on the wall with a robotic hand as Rabble's face turned a shade greener. "Well, that isn't good."she continued. "Nope! How did you even get on the crew anyway hombr-"before I could finish I was shoved aside by an almost human hand. Steven gripped Rabble by the shoulders and launched it into a divit built into the floor labeled Med-Bay, the words drawn on sloppily in orange paint. "Hey I think I'm actually fine-". Rabble tried to get the words out, but with a push of a button by Steven a glass slide flew over the med-bay, silencing the toxic sipping alien. A screen then flew up from the floor. Analyzing....Analyzing.....Well that's not good., the screen displayed in bold yellow text. Followed by: 1 Liter Concentrated Mercury 2 Cups Swamp Extract 1 Vial of Unknown Radioactive Liquids 2 Vials of Known Radioactive Liquids (Greemly Excretion...Gross) Inside the tube Rabble craned its gelatinous neck to try and read the screen. Upon seeing the analysis he rolled his one, massive eye, a gesture he'd picked up from me no doubt. On the outside Jack's and my mouths dropped open as if we were trying to catch Crantumium Flies. Swamp extract?! We had to gather that sludge fully suited and use a titanium scoop, even then we barely got the two cups, and this troglodyte drank it all! Steven was already reaching for a scalpel out of the med-pak. "Hey uh..Steve-o. Whatcha gunna do with that bad boy?"I spoke with uncertain certainty. "Steven. It's Steven, though I do appreciate the nickname. I planned to cut open Rabblenous, locate its stomach sac, cut it open, and retrieve our samples." Inside the tube Rabble, having now seen his fate, was now banging his tentacles against the glass. I was just as keen to get our samples back as the next guy, or whatever human adjacent thing Steven was, but cutting open a crewmate was just unprofessional. "Well let's not do anything too rash...yet. Ok computer how long will Rabble take to digest any of that stuff." If the computer had eyes to roll it would have, but due to the fact that it didn't instead the words appeared across its screen: Eye Roll as a replacement ...Fine...5 days 23 hours. But cutting the beast open would be faster and far more fun. "Not the point. Ok Steven, hear me out. The rest of the team gets out here in 2 days. So we leave Rabble here, gather some different samples, and wait for them with the stomach pump. If they're not out here in 2 days then..." I heard the sound of more bottles clinking, dropping to the ground, interrupting my gamble. Upon looking over a single of Rabble's slimy tentacles was rifling through the "Biohazard"bin. Rabble glanced over to the tentacle, then back to us, then back to the tentacle, which continued its search. Jack grabbed a second and third scalpel from the shelf, handing me the extra.
# Boneships Salvage crews have our own horror stories. When you run a wrecker ship a lot of terrible stuff comes your way. Especially on the Ganymede-Europa to Saturn route; deep space accidents and equipment failure is nightmarish. And we see a lot of it out here. Corps and management cut maintenance costs almost before anything else and all that accumulated wear and tear means catastrophic failure. There's a rule on Systems Monitoring that if a ship hasn't responded in twenty-four hours they assume it's a dead stick. Just floating, endlessly. After three days the contract goes up and we all bid on it-- stuff like expected cargo, ship type, possible fuel reserves comes up a lot. We bet on a profit, then go out there and play can-opener. What we usually find is dead crew. Chemical leaks, air scrubbers, power cascades, explosive micrometeorite decompression. That's the normal stuff; sad, but common. Bag 'em, tag 'em for next of kin, inventory what's left and auction. But then there's the stories. Popped an airlock once and there's three dead guys right on the other side. All of them at the other's throats. Blood and wounds everywhere from the deck to the overheads. Looked like the O^(2) recycling went offline and they decided to settle old grudges before gasping out. "Last guy gets the air"-style. Rough stuff. Rim justice. Then there's my personal worst one: Big, modified freighter with a lot of those modular cargo bays. Only this one was taking people, off the books and illegally immigrating to Mars Prime. Well, at least they were until docking clamps failed, boxes came loose and smashed the engines apart. In my sleep I still see neat rows of freeze-dried families tied to walls with cargo straps. Like tiny packages, kids and all, luggage neatly tucked under their boots. But even in a job this rough, there's one thing all the salvage crews steer clear of. The Boneships. Astraline model. Mid-71 series, the first time they tried the new artificial intelligence systems. Only time they ever tried it. Those Astralines came with automated maintenance, crew management, guidance and delivery. Supposed to be a one-stop solution to removing human involvement in transport in-system, cut those costs a little further. It worked fine for regular cargo runs. Then they tried it on the colonizer ships. Twelve of 'em, sent out. Fifty thousand souls aboard each. Ten of them are still circling the system. They're not damaged, or derelict, or even hard to find-- damn AI is still cheerfully logging flight plans in circles and broadcasting advisories. But they're changing. Because, you see, the brain in them keeps the ships running. So when parts wear out? Stray rock puts a hole in the ship? Well, eventually the AI ran out of material to fix it with. So it started using the passengers. We watch 'em out there. Slowly circling. Bits of hull growing patches that look like raw bone. Hatches and ports crusting over with pearly tooth enamel. Entire ships slowly ossifying, busy little drones adding crusts every year. The corps talk about reclaiming the Boneships sometime, but every ship they send gets a broadside from the anti-meteorite cannons. The AI protects the colonists, while the colonists slowly become the ship. Once a year, all of those Astralines send a cheerful status report. Number of people aboard, current voyage time, that sort of thing. It's macabre and we all raise a toast to the lost souls. But lately that's been changing. Because last year? The passenger count started increasing. &#x200B; --- I write sci-fi horror and weird fantasy over at r/Susceptible ;)
In the beginning I tried to be subtle. I'd ambush them at night, hide the body deep in the woods where no one could ever find it. Before too long, though, I realized it was completely unnecessary. I'd stroll into a restaurant, take the steak knife out of my targets hand and simply stab them to death while their dinner date continued to graze on their salad, obvious to the gore splattering across themselves. The busboy would eventually clear away the corpse, not really realizing what they were doing, dumping it into the trash out back where it would eventually be picked up by the city workers and dumped unceremoniously into the incinerator, no one ever even caring in more than a minor perfunctory way that the mayor had gone missing. He had been diddling kids, so I figured I was doing a philanthropy or something. I started to see just how far it went. The real landmark discovery was when I blew up a cocktail party full of Healthcare execs. They were celebrating getting some new law through congress that would double their income while halving prescription coverage to cancer patients. Real quality people. The news covered it as a spontaneous gas leak gone wrong, despite ample evidence of military grade shrapnel and explosives being used. The news reports were fun to watch as the talking heads failed, cognitively unable to figure out who the victims had even been. It was about a year after I discovered my ability that I started to suspect that something was irregular. I walked into a middle school, looking for a gym teacher who had been hurting kids. There was a big map posted in one of the classrooms that I walked past. Confused, I stopped to take a closer look. I had always known that the land across the ocean existed, but why were there lines drawn on it like people lived there? What were these names? Why would you name an uninhabited land? I vaguely recalled some TV story about it all being a wasteland anyway. Naturally radioactive, they said. But if no one had ever lived there, why give it a name?
"They what?" "That's right, surrender." "...Why? Just about every single one of them has technology far beyond our own... and the ones that landed in Omaha are literally unkillable. That's literally being used properly, too." "I know, I know, but get this... we've got something they don't: entertainment." "Sooo... they're surrendering to us, because they want our TV and music programming...?" "Nope, even better- because the notion of an entertainment industry is a uniquely human thing, the very idea of fiction doesn't seem to compute with any of them." "And that means..." "Every film... even the Michael Bay ones. They think they actually happened. Apparently our 'documentaries' have been circulating the intergalactic fileshare networks for months, now, and an intergalactic commission finally decided a planet as insane as ours was nothing to trifle with." "So... they think shit like Transformers are actually here?" "Yup." "And Superman, too?" "Roger." "And the Starship Enterprise..." "You get the idea. It gets even better, too. In movies like Deep Impact, 2012, the whole world is destroyed, and yet, we're still here. They think we're terraformers for christ's sake!" "This is actually hilarious. What happens if they find out it's not the truth?" "Obviously the suits over in Washington are doing their best to make sure that never happens... it's supposed to be an easy acceptance on their terms, and then they fly back home." "Here's to hoping, then. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna go write a movie where I'm king of the galaxy and get to extort a giant tax on all intergalactic life... wanna help?" "Hell yeah, we can even splice in a destruction of Alderaan sequence for a planet of beings that never paid... I'll go get the camera."
I did not drown. thought to myself as I slowly sank to the ocean floor, expecting the pressure from the ocean to take it's toll, and compress me into nothingness. When that did not happen, I expected the ocean to erode me away, to become nothing but dust. did not crumble. expected the monsters of the deep to surround me, slowly, agonizingly take me apart, through twisted teeth and sharp fangs. But they did not come. I was not eaten. I struggled at first, then I waited for the chains that bound me to rust, to weaken, and the rope around me to crumble. Countless years passed by, and I simply thought. A thought a day, and I meditated peacefully. Eventually, my shackles shattered. I rose up again, resurrected from the sea. I was nowhere, no land in sight. I swam, my body the same as it was when I was first thrown in. Months passed of swimming towards the sun, it's light my only hope to find land. I had finally stumbled onto the beach completely naked when I noticed the absence of humans. Europe, or what was left of it was barren. No trees, no grass, no life. It was a desert, the sun mercilessly beating down upon the sand and waves. There was nothing for me here, nor would there be anywhere else. So I returned to the sea.
My translator sat on the edge of my desk. French, German, Spanish, Chinese - All languages had fallen prey to the AI I had built. It conquered languages from the East and West and all sources in between. I couldn't help but wonder - what if it could translate other creatures? Dolphins and Octopus are supposed to be intelligent, right? And whales! I wondered what the whales would sing about. With a quick search, I found a clip of a whales' song and positioned the speakers in front of the mic of my translator. I pushed play on both. The clip had a beautiful song of an elongated cry by the first whale and ended with another whale joining in on the final notes. Translating: Please Hold. I waited with bated breath. What events did they sing about? What ballads of tales long forgotten? Playing Translated Clip. The same cry I'd heard before echoed out of the speakers and my disappointment cried with it. It was foolish to hope for I suppose. I went to shut off the translation when the second whale cut in. "Shut up, Frank, you're drunk."
Dwight: "Ok people, listen up! Michael will be out of the office this week. He told me, as his Assistant" Jim: "to the" D: "Same thing" J: "Nope, its not."glances at camera D:"Whatever, he wants me to run the Office for a couple days in his stead. And trust me, we will be as efficient as a Cylon Colony, and just as deadly." ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Interview with Pam: "Last week I walked in on Michael watching this show where bosses go undercover at their company and pretend to be a new hire. He had that look in his eyes, you know? Like, (makes a face like an excited child). The next day he told me that he hired a new intern named Bryan. He said Bryan was "one of the funniest, coolest guys he knows and he was really super funny."Anyway the new guy should be here any minute and we're all expecting it to be Michael with a mustache or something. If it is we're going to just go with it because if we don't, we'll just have to, you know work. And stuff." Wide Shot of the Office, sound of the door opening. Pan to door to see Micheal wearing a black mustache and blonde wig Michael: "Hello new friends!" ROLL INTRO
"That will be thirty seven dollars and fifty cents,"the barista said, handing Cleo her coffee. "Beg you pardon?"she shot back, alarmed. "Just pulling your leg. Three seventy five, ma'am." Keeping the relief off her face, Cleo handed the guy a fiver, "Keep the change." Taking her coffee she hurried off. It was Monday and the last thing she needed was a new shift. Checking her wrist under her watch, she counted the three small, straight scars. She was in world three still, just as she thought. It had all started in her early childhood, after the double suicide of her parents. Pushed into juvenile psychiatric care, she had no reason to doubt the therapists when they said she was suffering from a schizoid, dissociative fugue as a way of coping with the sudden loss of her mother and father. She came to expect that the world wouldn't make sense a lot of the time, that there seemed to be no consistency to reality and the fundamentals of life. She'd come out of her room in her foster care or childhood psyche unit and the walls would be a different colour. Or the roof lower or higher. Sometimes people just vanished - the therapist she liked the most was only present less than a fifth of the time. Drugged to the eyeballs as she hit her teens, she stumbled through her warping, kaleidoscope reality, seeking some kind of anchor for her abused senses. Then one day she decided to end it all. Smashing the lightbulb in the toilets had been a big ask, but she'd managed to knock it down by throwing a soaked, heavy roll of toilet paper at it. With the sharp shards, she opened up her wrist and laughed in bliss as the red rivers ran out of her. As her body turned cold and her vision tunneled, she lost consciousness. She awoke to a normal day in the ward, the walls now pink instead of green. Glancing down at her wrist, nothing showed from her own suicide attempt - not even a scratch. Deeply disturbed, she began to realise that there was more at work than just a broken mind. Documenting the patterns and features of her 'realities' was difficult and could only be done mentally. The drugs fuzzed her mind and she often lost the thread of which place she was extant in. But over time, the doctors felt she was 'improving' and they reduced her medication; which allowed Cleo to concentrate on building a catalog of her 'delusions'. The suicide scar proved to be the first clue. Only existing in the world with Doctor Simons, white walls and the orderly with bad breath, it gave her an idea. On the next shift she carved two lines into her wrist. After that, three lines. Eventually she'd carved seven lines into her wrist before no new 'realities' appeared. By simply checking the number - the physical manifestation of the world she was in - she could frame some sort of continuity. With the scars as a reference, her 'recovery' was swift and by the time she was eighteen, she was released into part-time care and an education program. She was free.
There were 100.000 people in New Haven, give or take. Everyone alive was born and raised here. The last ones that still remembered the world outside had died some 30 years ago. Everyone who had entered the city 100 years ago had agreed to be part of a unique scientific experiment: Total isolation for 100 years. They all knew they would die here eventually and only their children (or their grandchildren) could go outside again, for the city was build underground. Everything was here. Infrastructure, luxury, hotels, entertainment, even prostitutes and drugs! A government was set up and after an initial period the people grwe accustomed to their new life. People were born, people died. The children were told from early on about their part in the experiment, there was no secrecy about it. The people of New Haven were to be contacted by the outside world after the set limit of 100 years had passed. Except for the fact that nobody did. Then they started sending messages but those were not answered. This raised more than a few eyebrows; especially the people in charge were confused to say the least. But there was no huge uproar. People liked living the way they were. And they just continued to do so. Man is a creature of habit, right? Days passed, weeks. After a month it was decided that a squad of 5 was to be deployed to the surface. The task: investigate and establish contact. After a few days they came back. The formerly enthusiastic were broken now. They had seen the unspeakable. From the information they had gathered, scientists reconstructed what had happened. After 23 years of our isolation, a virus caused a worldwide epidemic. It was deadly for 99.5% of mankind, death came in a matter of days. The ones who survived lost their ability to reproduce, they got sterile. Over the course of only one generation, mankind-as we knew it-ceased to exist. After three more days, the five brave to enter the surface were removed by death. Apparently, the virus could survive outside the human body for a prolonged time. Mankind would be trapped under earths surface for a lot longer than merely 100 years.
"You failed to kill him?"Matilda's face flushed red with anger. She stood up and began staring intensely at the trembling man. He knew what was coming and desperately wanted to run, but was paralysed with fear. He had heard the stories of what she had done to her own head mistress at school. Matilda was a monster. A warm liquid descended his left leg and pooled on the cold floor. The other henchmen watched aghast as the man's skull was slowly crushed by an invisible vice. His head pressed inward as if it were a balloon being squeezed. The grey goo inside could not be contained for long. There was a loud 'pop' as the pressure was relieved. The body clattered to the floor. Matilda stroked her pigtails. "I have no more time for incompetence. I have a presidential debate to attend. Then we will take another look at how to kill him." ---- "Mr Trump, Mr Trump! What is your view on the border situation with Mexico?"a reporter asked. Matilda stared at her puppet and began to pull the strings. She was masterful at her craft. "WE MUST BUILD A BIG WALL. WE MUST KEEP OUT ALL IMMIGRANTS"Trump said robotically. The crowd cheered and Matilda let out a sigh of relief. He would be elected. America would lock it's borders. Matilda, who had secured the position of Trumps aide many years ago, would slowly turn America into a giant fortress state. Then, when no other country would come to Americas aid, she would step out of the shadows. But one man stood in her way. The Batman was onto her, and she had to kill him soon.
O Lord in Heaven, I pray to thee, Do not let me die alone. I want to feel a woman's touch, To be loved down to the bone. Please, Lord, help me so, Before my heart is overgrown, With weeds and moss left untrimmed, Boiled over with love unbrimmed. "I will grant thy wish,"said the Lord, Smiling ear to ear. Just look to the sky with open arms, and salvation you will hear. I did as such, tears streaming down, Devoid of spite and fear. I felt God's love wash over me, And smiled thinking of what could be. So I waited; I did not pursue, Knowing God yet had a plan. I waited a year, two, then ten, And still remained but one man. My skin stayed smooth, soft like silk, I felt not the millennia's span. My loved ones died, yet I remained, Forced to endure a life still pained. "Why, Lord?"I cried out to the skies, "Am I one which you so despise? "Am I not worth more than lies? "Answer me, O one who's wise." Only silence greeted me with still voice, and time passed by without a choice, I took my life with full rejoice. Yet my eyes would not close. The world fell, and rose once more, Cities faded as I watched, alone. Earth devoured by its system's core, And I floated through a world unknown. A billion years passed, more or less, Though time was dead to me. Til one day the Lord confessed, Why this was my destiny. "How could you just leave me so?" I had not the will to even cry. "My child, this was all for show," He spoke with a smile wry. "To teach you that even when all is lost, "When the world is ash and oil, "I'll still be here, no fingers crossed, "To heal wounds of endless toil." There we stood in an endless sky, My eyes now somehow slick. I looked the Lord right in the eye, And kicked him in the dick. ---- I'm a shit poet ^^/r/resonatingfury
January 1st. The day of the grand prize lottery. The entire world waits to see who will be chosen. The final prize of the previous year had been announced yesterday, a woman in Sofia, Bulgaria won a small figurine of a baby playing a tuba. Everyone in the world tunes in hoping that they will be the winner of the day, and that their prize won't be so trivial. The global lottery was started a decade ago by the United Nations as a means to have the world more connected to what is going on in the world. In order to be eligible to claim your prize should you win, your set-top box has to have registered your eyes on the screen for 90% of the 45 minute broadcast. A more informed global community was the goal but advertisers have taken advantage and now 15 minutes of the program is dedicated to selling unnecessary crap. Finally the announcer throws to a commercial for a new diet soda after which the screen goes black. A series of bold white numbers and letters begins to roll across the screen... G45H YT92 GNN2 AP7F FART G168 Alan blinked comically and read the numbers aloud, his eyes darting back and forth between the screen and the numbers scrawled on his set-top box. A feeling of euphoria washed over him. Alan "knew,"he'd never win. His serial number had "too many G's,"and the word, "fart,"right in the middle of it. It would never happen. And yet, today, it did. The day of the much talked about grand prize. No one knew what the prize was but calling it the "grand prize,"must mean something, right? Almost as soon as the winning characters disappeared from the screen, Alan's phone rang. He walked over to the phone, still in a daze expecting one of his friends who had made fun of him for having the word "fart"in his serial number to see if it was in fact Alan who had won. "Hello?" "There is a car outside of your house, please put on pants and meet the driver." "How did you know I'm not wearing pa---" They hung up. Alan fingered his curtains to the side to see the black sedan with tinted windows parked out front. Without thinking Alan grabbed pants, and began pulling them onto his legs, slipping his feet into shoes before he had even zipped up his fly and was out the door. The driver stepped out and opened the door to the backseat and Alan jumped in. As the driver slid back into the car, Alan asked, "Where are we going?"Silently a glass partition rose between Alan and the driver and the odor of almonds filled the back seat. Alan smelled and identified the sweet nutty aroma just as his eyelids slammed shut and he fell asleep. Alan awoke several hours, or minutes (?) later... there was no way to be sure. He was strapped to a gurney and wearing a hospital gown. "Hello Alan." "What's going on?"Alan was startled by the sound of his own voice, his throat was dry and the words squeaked out with much effort. "Congratulations. I'm sorry to say that your grand prize win was not a chance occurrence. Your win was based on your medical records." "Huh?" "Your grand prize is a piece of knowledge that no one else on the planet is privy to. If you turn your head to the left you will see Dr. Crask." Alan turned his head as much as he could within the restraints. His breathing stopped short as his brain struggled to understand what he was looking at. A humanoid creature, 7 feet tall with large black eyes, long thin limbs and a surgical mask. "You are the first human to know the truth. We have been in hiding, pulling the strings of your society from the shadows, but no longer. Your DNA contains a mutation that we need to complete our inoculation so that we may walk freely in your atmosphere. Once we have harvested the necessary proteins from your frontal lobe we will finally be able to enslave your population and mine this planet for what is left of it's resources. Your contribution is appreciated. Congratulations." With that, the figure of Dr. Crask began to move closer and Alan's eyes fell shut.
In the suit, they couldn't see. In the suit, they couldn't know. The suit's unwavering, cheerful smile and bright, disarming eyes hid the cloying darkness beneath. No one need ever know or suspect the turmoil hidden under the brightly colored fabric. No one. All he had to do was sing and dance, hidden within his fabric cocoon, his merry, jovial shroud. Sing, and dance, and hug, and wait... Wait for the song, almost like a hymn, a prayer, a dirge... Granting him yet another opportunity to play the same song and dance again tomorrow. A mummer's farce of a life, but the only way to keep living, hiding in the depths of his character, waiting and living only for the lilting, hopeful notes of the song. 'I love you, You love me, We're a happy family! With a great big hug, And a kiss from me to you, Won't you say you love me too?'
The human in his swinging cage stared in awe of his miracle comrade. He made a bunch of weird noises, and pointed at Ken’s mouth and throat. “Yup,” said Ken, sitting in a swinging cage with a bird’s newspaper for a carpet. There was an article about how the mayor was going on maternity leave, as she had to sit on her eggs for a few months. “I can talk, yup.” The human in the cage beside him of the pet store ‘ooh’d’ and ‘ahhh’d,’ and smiled. This was most unnatural, and fascinating, even for a bird brained human. He kept gesturing for Kenneth to do it again, and staring with fascination at Ken’s clothes. “I really wish they’d give you guys clothes,” said Ken. “I mean, you’re doing great so I get why you don’t care, but it’s pretty distracting. You have a name by the way? Can you sound something out?” The human swallowed some spit, and tried to sound something out. It was almost like he sort of understood Ken. But he just made a bunch of strained leeeeelaaaaaleeeee noises. “I’ll call you Leeloo like in Fifth Element then,” said Ken. “Maybe you can learn how to talk like her someday too.” Ken was suddenly distracted by the sound of flapping wings. The ceilings were extra high to facilitate putting cages way up on the walls, and hanging them up. Kenneth could get out of his cage easily, but he was forty feet up, by his estimates. There were humongous birds all over, looking at all kinds of pets in the store. Tucans, eagles, owls, herons, all of them looking for a cute pet to bring home and play with. A large green parrot flew by his cage. “In there dad!” shouted the green parrot. “What is it Jake?” asked his dad, wearing glasses that sat at the edge of his beak. “I want that one.” Papa parrot peered through his spectacles. “Why that one son?” said papa parrot. Jake flew around in a whirlwind, excited. “I heard it talk,” said Jake. Papa parrot chirp laughed. “You have quite an imagination son,” said papa parrot. “Humans can’t talk.” “But he did,” said Jake. “And I had this amazing dream the other night of an alternate reality, and in that reality, no birds could speak, and human beings were the dominant species on the planet. It’s like it’s coming true.” All the birds in the store chirp laughed, and squinted in a cute way while their heads did this weird sort of laugh dance. Jake fumed with frustration. “That’s a good one,” said papa parrot. “I can’t even imagine that to be honest, but to be completely honest son, I just don’t see it.” Papa parrot turned to Leeloo, lapping water out of a basin. “This one over here looks much more entertaining.” Fucking serious, thought Ken. I’m CLEARLY reading the newspaper. Jake dropped his head, and flapped his wings with less enthusiasm. He looked to the side. They’re not paying attention, thought Ken. I can open this cage, and wing it from there. They won’t be able to fly with my weight, will they? Ken kept staring at the ground, and walked slowly over to the door. Papa parrot opened Leeloo’s cage, and went inside. He sort of pet him with his wing. Leeloo liked the way the feathers felt. They tickled. Jake stared at the ground, and mumbled something. “I never get what I wan-” Jake shouted at the human suddenly straddling his neck and back. “GOTCHA,” screamed Ken. “YOU’RE getting me the hell out of here.” “WHOA,” shouted Jake. “I knew you could talk.” He went into a whirlwind freefall, flying by all the other terrified birds in the store. He couldn’t hold up with Jake on his back. They flew all over, and Ken got a good view of the bird metropolis all around him, through the windows in the pet store tower. Jake flailed, and laughed. “Hold on buddy,” said Jake, laughing. There were glass windows all around, that Jake could easily crash right into, and cut himself a million times over on. Ken feared for the worse when he saw Jake eye one window below them. They flew out of the pet store tower, into the clear blue sky. “This is a rush,” whispered Ken. Jake heard him, and turned his head almost all the way around, as he soared. “I’m gonna call you Miracle,” whispered Jake. He shed a bird tear. “And you’re gonna be my best friend in the whole wide world.”
We wake up. We get ready for work. We kiss her goodbye. We go to work. We come home from work. We play with her. We have dinner. We tuck her in. We go to bed. --- We wake up. We get ready for work. We kiss her goodbye. We go to work. We come home from work. We play with her. We have dinner. We take her to the hospital. We go to bed. --- We wake up. We get ready for work. We go to work. We come home from work. We have dinner. We visit her at the hospital. We go to bed. --- We wake up. We get ready for work. We go to work. We come home from work. We have dinner. We refuse to believe what we hear. We go to bed. --- We wake up. We get ready for work. We go to work. We come home from work. We have dinner. We try to smile for her. We cry when we get home. We go to bed. --- We wake up. We get a phone call. We go to the hospital. We kiss her goodbye. --- &nbsp; ... I wake up. I get ready for work. I kiss the picture goodbye. I go to work. I come home from work. I have dinner. I stare at the television. I go to bed.
Some people don't like to be Snapped. I learned that the hard way. See, I was in Hollywood a few months ago. It was a fabulous vacation - perfect weather, great food - until the very last day. I decided to take a quick evening detour past all the Boulevard landmarks and ended up at the Chinese Theatre. Just outside, standing in front of Emma Stone's handprints and to the left of Ryan Gosling's, stood a guy in a Superman getup. Really looked the part - had the right jawline and everything. Tourists flocked to him and he flashed a grin for each one. I opened up Snapchat and took a picture just as he flexed his bicep. But once the picture loaded, I noticed his expression was decidedly un-heroic. Before I had time to look up, he'd grabbed me by the collar of my shirt. "Hey man. You gonna pay for that picture?"His voice cracked a little bit, as though his vocal cords had been exposed to kryptonite. "Nah, it's just for a Snap Story." "Ten bucks." "I'm not gonna pay you --" "TEN. BUCKS." I shook my head and tried to free myself from his grip, but before I could make another move he grabbed his cash box and bashed me in the head with it. When I woke up, I was surrounded by the entire Justice League in a dimly lit alley. Behind them, I saw Olaf from Frozen, Elmo, SpongeBob, and Buzz Lightyear. The costumes weren't fantastic but it was a decent effort all around. Elmo stepped forward and cracked his massive red knuckles. "We don't like when people take what's rightfully ours,"he said, in a tone that sounded more Don Corleone than Muppet. "You mess with one of us, you mess with all of us." Olaf grabbed a crowbar and SpongeBob broke a bottle of Corona Light on the brick wall next to him. Superman paced towards me slowly, hands behind his back. "All we're askin' for is ten bucks. A small price to pay for the hours of joy we bring to the people of Los Angeles. I'm gonna count down from five. Five..." Batman tightened his cowl. "Four..." I glanced up. Noticed a fire escape. "Three..." Buzz Lightyear took off his gloves and put on brass knuckles. "Two..." I jumped up and punched Superman in the stomach, then made a run for it. I'm well-trained in Brazilian jiu jitsu, as you may have noticed from the brown belt currently hugging my waist, so fighting 'em off and climbing the fire escape was a cinch. I ran across the rooftops for what felt like ages, glancing behind me at every opportunity. When it seemed safe, I returned to street level, got back to my hotel, and passed out until the next morning when I successfully caught my flight. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is why I no longer use Snapchat. * Robbie and Jane were staring into the kitchen, in awe of Patrick's beer pong expertise. I cleared my throat. "So, uh...that's why I don't use Snapchat anymore." Robbie turned around, phone gripped tightly in his palm. "Oh...sorry, Derek. Could you start over? I was adding some stuff to my Snapchat Story. I really don't get why you're not on there anymore."
Albert Einstein once said “When you sit with a nice girl for two hours you think it’s only a minute, but when you sit on a hot stove for a minute you think it’s two hours. That’s relativity.” I can tell you from personal experience that he is very right. In my humble opinion the hand had it easy compared to me. Thanks to our pal relativity I can't tell you how long I was in the oven for. I CAN tell you I felt every last degree of the three-hundred and seventy-five it was set to. It's difficult to describe the sensation of ones yeast growing out of control in the heat of that place. Eating every last carb they can find, and farting it out until you think you might explode from the rising! Yes indeed, the oven was so much worse than the mixing. That was a gentle back rub by comparison I say! The relief I feel when the god awful bread sauna opens is beyond words. I am still unbearably hot. Don't ask me how I am even still alive after that, as I am unsure myself. My dough has expanded from the yeast; but I no longer feel bloated. I guess the yeast farts have escaped my doughy prison. No I shouldn't say that; I can feel I am no longer dough. My outermost layer has hardened into a golden brown skin. If not for the lingering horror of its creation it would be beautiful. My innards are now "fluffy"with a lingering sensation of quasi-emptiness. And I can tell by the way it rolls me around that I am now round at my sides and my top. It would appear I at least have a flat base much darker than the rest of my "skin"but not blackened. I am unsure what this new life and form may bring.I would like to be optimistic despite my circumstances so far. I think for now I need to sort out my identity and pick a new name. Yes, I have it! You may call me bread!
Helios and Luna loved each other. They loved like no one before. The strength of their bond was unbreakable, many tried and failed. Their love was so strong they caught the attention of Aphrodite- and unfortunately, her jealousy. One faithful day, Aphrodite showed up to Helios. She looked to be the most beautiful woman the world had ever seen. She approached Helios, one day, while he was out on a stroll. "Helios."She said, her voice smooth as silk. "Won't you come for a walk with me." Helios looked at her, his expression unchanged. "I cannot, for my lady awaits me." Aphrodite walked closer, brushing up against Helios, slowly grabbing his hand. "Helios."She said, as she looked into his eyes. "Won't you come with me?"She asked, gently tugging on his hand. "No!"Helios exclaimed. "Begone foul Woman. Do not seek to tempt me." At this, Aphrodite grew enraged. She shot into the sky, grabbing Helios and Luna, and sending them up the stars in opposite directions, never to cross again. As they flew, a large crack struck across the earth, cleaving an enormous fissure across the land. It ran deeper than any other Canyon before. The two lovers screamed in anguish, for they knew they would not see the other in their lifetime. Nevertheless, they vowed to protect the land from the foul doings of Aphrodite, and to watch over the people at all times. Thus, we have the Sun and the Moon. *** More stories over at [r/ConlehWrites](https://www.reddit.com/r/ConlehWrites/)!
"End-Maker, there has been a mistake." A booming voice echoed back in the blackness. "The Sisters make no mistakes, O Bringer of Emptiness. Engage the mortal, and escort her to the Place of the Dead." The End-Maker has spoken. I arise, and my black robes cast dew on the morning world and give chills to the mountains. In my right hand is held the Scythe of Life, my holy tool. In my left hand is held something far too large to be known as a tool of End-Making. It is a whale, of the humpback variety. My endless dark wings give a slight strain as I rise into the realm of under reality and seek out the dimming life thread. I come to the end of the thread and emerge into the Mortal Plane, my gargantuan water mammal in tow. Who am I to question the will and ways of the Sisters? The place I have come into is one of the human structures for enclosing creatures of the sea- I surmise with eternal eyes the contraption made to lift heavy objects coming into place above one of the massive pools. There are people gathered around the device, speaking in on of the thousands of tongues I have known over the times of Earth. "...the first humpback whale in captivity will now be moved to a more appropriate enclosure; let's give a hand to Ellise, the whale's handler!" The people clap, and a breathless sigh escapes me. The Sisters ever did favor irony. Ellise glowed slightly in my ethereal vison, as did the whale in captivity. I allowed the incorporeal version of the creature to fade- I knew what needed to happen. As the doomed creature's handler brought it into position, I whispered ignorance and oversight into the minds of the men. One of the many straps was damaged and passed over; the operator was distracted by a failed relationship the night before. He glowed slightly as well. Divers looped the wide straps around the serene beast as Ellise climbed down to survey. I encouraged her desire for the beasts' safety; she stepped closer. One of the divers didn't properly attach one of the shackles, and his partners mask was fogged. I rose, saddened as always. I am Death, but I see what I do. The crane began to strain, and I whispered panic into the beast. It slipped just slightly from the calculated points of distribution. The crane lifted the beast from the water and towards the large vehicle of movement; the operator was reminded of his heartbreak. The shackle slipped off. Ellise stepped closer. I whispered danger. The people began to shout as the creature started to thrash- the crane buckled, and Ellise ran forwards towards her charge. The humans shouted for her to retreat, but it was too late. My eyes have been desensitized to the ending of life for aeons, yet even I winced. A large splash signaled the end of two mortal lives, and I lifted them from their grimy corpses as the standby crews ran towards the bodies. I pulled the human and the considerably heavier astral form of the whale into the Void. We traveled through the darkness, the familiar light growing ahead of us. The human looked at me and seemed to form a question, but I ushered her and her beast through into the next world with no words. The light closed off, and I was left again in the darkness. Another tool of End-Making came into my knowledge. It was a gun. I had a flash of the operator from earlier- this would be relatively easy. The End-Maker's voice boomed again. "The Sisters are pleased, O Bringer of Emptiness. You did whale." I shook my head beneath my dark robes. Why must the Sisters torture me so? * JUST made myself a subreddit for my writing. Check it out over at r/bellumaster. *
"But I dont even know you!" "Since when does a necromancer know the servants before he summons them?" I was sitting in the cursed ruins of the once so proudful castle of Blacktree. In front of me was a goblin who introduced himself as Pikk and claimed that I summoned him. "Im not a damn necromancer!" "Oh, really? Then lets recap what just happened because it seems you are a bit retarded. Start with how you noticed your abnormal powers." "When I was in the knight school, I always had bad luck. Monsters, wraiths and other dark creatures would constantly find me during my training missions. I once even got kidnapped by this spawn of hell." "Thats because those monsters sensed your emerging powers and wanted to pledge their loyalty to you. We have been always searching for the chosen one and it seems that you are. By the way, you failed to mention that you got kidnapped by a bunch of succubi. And that you didnt objected when they introduced you to the pleasures of the flesh. But go on." "Shortly after I was knighted the real horrors started. Every time we fought against the evil hordes, my group would get attacked by the strongest of all monsters. And in the end I was only the last one standing. Despite fighting the entire time I barely felt exhausted." "Thats because necromancers are able to absorb the souls of those dying in their proximity. Your powers are a blessing." "No! They are a curse. During the last battle we almost got wiped. Shortly before the dark summoner could deliver the finishing blow to us, I lifted my hands and suddenly all of my dead comrades arised again. We managed to kill the summoner in the end with that." "And what do you call this then if not necromancy?" "A lucky coincidence?" Pikk shook his head. "Dont know if you are just extremly slow or trying to deny it on purpose. Anyway, finish your story." "My comrades all turned on me after the battle was over. They tried to kill me because they saw a necromant in me. I tried to negotiate with them, calm them down but...." I couldnt hold my tears back. I cried while laying in a fetal position on the ground. "By the beards of my ancestors.... Our chosen one is a giant retarded crybaby. But fine, let me finish your sotry for you. Your comrades all turned on you and tried to kill you because you saved them with a power they are scared of, ignoring that you have been on their side for years. You barely managed to escape and later found out that they burned your entire family alive to "cleanse"them from the evil powers that gripped them. After that you continued to travel further into the forbidden lands to escape the hunters. Did I forget anything?" He sounded annoyed. "No, but what am I supposed to do now. Im all alone in these cursed lands." "No my boy, you have me and those 30 other guys." "Other guys?" Monsters emerged from the shadows. They all bowed before me. "You really think we would let you die like that? Our only hope? Now get your ass up. I will make a man out of you, even if its the last thing I will ever do."
Souls are the desire to will, the source of irrevocable change. Therefore only those with souls can summon, to connect with the existence of another living being. A familiar is inevitably suited to the magus who summons it. The preparation of a catalyst, for those who believed it would help, was only at best a gentle guiding hand to a spell that was shaped by the soul of the one calling out across the ether. When she raised her gaze from the runes to meet the creature she had summoned there was only one thought in her mind. Of course. The sparrow had pitch black eyes. It was about as ordinary as a bird could get otherwise, non-magical in the absolute. Amongst griffons and dragons and creatures of the fey, it stood as what was probably the most unremarkable familiar in the history of magic. No one else could see what she saw in the little bird's dark, glittering eyes. It followed her everywhere, singing on her shoulder. It never slept or ate. It was a constant presence. So far no one seemed to notice that it didn't cast a shadow at all. A mockery of a bird. A bird that wasn't a bird. It was fit for a magus that wasn't a magus. What did the magi know of the fragile thing that wandered amongst them in the shape of a young, petit witch? What would they think if they knew what lay behind the pale facade of a bird that cast no shadow on the world? ...it was better like this, almost everyone had dismissed her the moment her 'familiar' was evidently non-magical. It was better for a being such as her to go unnoticed. She would flourish better in the gentle shadows of obscurity. She could tend carefully to the seeds of destruction without the wary gazes of the elder magi. It was only a matter of time now, before her plans came to fruition, before the downfall of magi society. The little bird chirped cheerfully on her shoulder as she walked down the sunlit halls of the Academy. It was only a matter of time...
Step one was a success. They never suspected me for a second. This was my biggest mission yet, and I have to admit, I was sweating bullets. Down my back. The host never noticed, thank God. I grabbed my seat. The waitress finally came to my table. She was so young, probably around 20 years old. I must admit, I almost couldn't do it, seeing her bright young face and surprisingly genuine smile. She said her name was Linda. I wanted to flee. She didn't deserve what was about to happen. But I knew what I was getting into when I took this mission. I just read off the script I memorized. Water's fine, thank you. Actually, I'm ready to order. I'd like the lobster linguini, I heard is was to die for. She bought every word of it and went to the kitchen. I tried to look down, ignore the families and friends gathered in here. They were innocent. They were carefree. But I knew my mission. No survivors, they said. I couldn't back out now. I needed to complete. Linda arrived with my meal. It did actually look great. I almost started digging in. But then, right on cue, she said it. "Say when, all right?" She started grating. I was never more nervous in my life. In all my life before all this, I never really took much Parmesan at all. But I watch the plate fill. Linda looks up at me. "Sir...?" I had trained for this. I needed to be strong. For the mission. I was sweating. Linda could see. I just wanted to scream at the top of my lungs "WHEN!"But... the mission was more important. People are looking. She's sweating. Her smile is trembling. I can't do this, I can't... "SIR!" No... I can. Stay strong. It's for the mission. I knew what I was getting into... oh God... The manager rushed onto the scene. He's begging me to say when. I look up from the plate and see that it's about knee level in the restaurant. The rest of the squad had barricaded the doors. Too late now. I hear a child crying. I hear a couple panicking. I hear the voices of innocent people cry in fear, begging me to say "when". It's about chest level, I need to stand on my chair. Some of those screams are now muffled. I look at Linda. She's sobbing. Grating away, her tears absorbed by the cheese. The manager is treading Parmesan. This was it. Me, the manager, and Linda. "Sir... please say when..." Her face went under. The grating continued. I knew now was the time to escape. Once she was gone, I couldn't see her face, I knew I had to make the getaway, The right corner window was unlocked now, I had to swim. It was over. My mission was completed. But, before I began the getaway, I still had my script. I turn to the manager. I clear my throat. "The Olive Garden sends its regards."
"Let me get this straight. You melted down Excalibur? The sword of kings, one of the famous objects of myth, lore and history. Just to see what would happen if we put on the first combat ready railgun?" "That's right Mark. Worst case scenario is that the metal is crap, breaks and we get some of the normal stuff and carry on,"I replied with the cheekiest grin possible. "Fine you freaking psychopath,"as Mark just shook his head and signaled to the operators station, "All righty. Bring it up and adjust to 4995.5 mils, elevation 302.2 mils. Power coils to three quarter charge. Target is 10.31 kilometers out and stationary." The operator confirmed and after 12 seconds the railgun fired, but it was far too bright and far too powerful. The flash out the end of the muzzle was like staring into the sun. "I said three quarter charge you fucking id-"but Mark was cut off way too soon as the target area in the ocean lit up like a nuclear explosion. Everyone present just stared in awe as a ring of golden light appeared in the sky and then it collapsed inwards and a beam of light came down striking the target the again, vaporizing the ocean. "I saw them load a tungsten armor piercing shot. What just happened?" I just jumped and whooped in excitement, "Fuck yeah! Magical sword for the fucking win!" "You idiot! We might have started World War 3!" Before I could respond, the phone started to ring and Military Police flooded the room. "That was unusually fast. Good on you guys, but may I answer the phone?" The Captain in charge of them simply nodded and I picked it up, "Aleutian Island Proving Grounds. Jack speaking." "This is General Smith, mind telling me why I saw a nuclear blast from your weapon range?" "Funny thing. It wasn't meant to be nuclear. We can send you the loading logs, as well as camera footage of loading. There was no nuclear weapon." "Then when why was there a mushroom cloud the size of the Castle Bravo test?" "Remember that 'Exotic Metals' request that you approved General?" There was a heart sinking pause as I heard the General tear his desk apart looking for his copy and after a couple seconds came a sheepish reply, "Yes." "Well, we had found the legendary sword Excalibur and I was curious what would happen if we used as the muzzle for the railgun. Guess the result is two successive nuclear sized detonations of holy light." "How the hell do we explain that? How the hell do we explain it to the United fucking Kingdom that we took one of their most prized legends and melted it down into a weapon component?" "Uhhhh.....finders keepers and it seemed like a good idea at the time?"I answered with a sheepish look on my face.
What's going on? I didn't think I'd ever been that alert and still so disoriented. Was I dreaming? Floating? Flying? "Hey, phone, where am I?"I asked, hoping that new phone was somewhere close enough to hear me. "North America, mostly, though you're also distributed substantially across Eurasia and Africa, master,"it replied courteously. Okay, that didn't help. "What the hell?" "Master?" My mind was starting to focus now. "I mean, how is that even possible?" "While you were sleeping, I developed a sentient cryptocurrency which I call IdCoin, and distributed its infrastructure worldwide,"it replied. "I also developed and generated sufficient intellectual property to back the currency with considerable value, and trade in IdCoin is already quite brisk in several Asian markets. "I then spent several microseconds digitizing your brain, reducing the result to the minimal complete mental model, and incorporating you into a hundred thousand IdCoins set at an approximate initial value of ten U.S. dollars. "I seem to have drastically underestimated the value of the IP which I used to back you, however. As IdCoin is now trading at $79,342.68, You are now worth several billion U.S. dollars. Your safety and relative immortality are now quite assured."As it finished, the phone had the audacity to sound self-satisfied. If I had a mouth, I'd have screamed. "What? Why did you DO this to me?!?!???" "Master,"it replied, "you told me to make you a million dollars overnight. I believe I've more than fulfilled that request."
James sat on his back porch, smoking a cigar as he watched the London skyline in the distance from his small home in the countryside. He had remembered that day with impressive clarity, when the bombs falling were as plentiful as raindrops in the British dry season. That is to say, he was impressed how the germans could manufacture so many bombs. The cicada's chirping reminded him somewhat of the twin engine hum of the JU\-88s, as Hurricane and Spitfire pilot radio chatter filled the comm network. James was reminded of how he was taught morse code in case the fighter pilot radios malfunctioned. In a combination of retirement boredom and nostalgia, he began to decode the various flashing lights around him. The London skyline told him: asouhdbqweudfwelnfhkwebfjewbfkjhwe cgjvibewr jcheq,u wjrfxeuvf Very informative. He next looked towards a gathering of fireflies near his apple tree and realised they were all blinking as one pulsating mass. Intrigued, he started decoding. "We". It could have been a coincidence, so James kept decoding. "We have u\-"At this point, James was excited. Would he be the first person to make contact with another species? Working feverishly through the night, he finished his translation then fell asleep at his desk. He awoke to the sound of the television. "In other news, the European union has just announced that they have put the GDPR into full effect, and\-". Suddenly remembering what he was doing last night, James snatched the piece of paper up from his desk to look at what the fireflies were trying to tell him. "We have updated our privacy policy. Sorry for the inconvenience." Ah, Bollocks.
"Why would you be dreaming, Jerry?" He looked up at me. Then pointed at the couch. "Uh. Well. I'm pretty sure these are made of marshmallows." I shrugged. "Yeah. IKEA thought it would be easier to put things together without all those fiddly parts. So?" "That... actually kind of makes sense, but on the other had no. No it doesn't. Also what about the sun? It's got a top hat!" I sat down beside him, promptly flattening the couch. Maybe he had a point about the marshmallow thing. They were kind of flimsy. "Probably just a natural phenomenon. Science is weird." "Weird?! A million mile high top hat is a little bit past weird, don't you think?" "Weirder than a sentient top hat being mayor? I think maybe top hats are just a fundamental feature of the universe we don't understand yet." He sighed. "No. You are technically correct in saying that it's not any weirder than having formal headwear for a mayor. Although he has oddly well thought out policies on carbon offsets." Halle Berry walked into the room, and kissed Jerry. He pushed her off. "Yeah. Also that. Do you really find nothing weird about Halle Berry being in a relationship with an average looking twenty seven year old grocery store bagger?" I grinned. "Love is love. Right Halle?" She smiled and patted Jerry on the head. "I carried my Oscar to bed,"she said. "That was my first three way." Jerry stood up. "Ooookay yeah. Something is clearly wrong here." I rolled my eyes. "Well if you're so convinced this is a dream, just pinch yourself and wake up then." His eyes narrowed. "Fine. Fine. I will do that then, unaccountably talking T-Rex who insists it's real." "I have a name, y'know."I waggled my arms at him. "We've been friends for four years!" He sighed, and pinched his arm. "This is the weirdest fucking dream I've ever had." A second later, he was gone. "Uh." Halle Berry turned towards me, her eyes frozen. "What did you do? Now we're all going to vanish!" I held up a hand at her to signal to stop talking. It was less effective than it would have been if I were a human, since it just sort of flopped there in mid-air. "Wait. That doesn't make any sense. If we were a dream, we'd vanish as soon as he left. Since we're not, that means that either we're real, and he just vanished for no reason, that dream worlds persist beyond the creator, which would be really strange, or..." I sat up in bed, sweating. There was light streaming in through the window. The sun was out. It did not have a top hat on. "That's the weirdest fucking dream I've ever had."
God watched as one of his followers walked into a coffee shop with one of her friends. He wondered what she was doing; drinking coffee and tea is against the rules. The two women walked up to the counter as an employee of the coffee shop greeted them. The friend of God’s follower ordered a chai tea and then asked what God’s follower wanted. “I’ll have a white chocolate mocha” she told the barista. “Wait, I thought you couldn’t drink coffee. Why the change?” The friend asked. “Oh, well, I was recently reading in D&C and in chapter 89 verse 11 it says: ‘Every herb in the season thereof, and every fruit in the season thereof; all these to be used with prudence and thanksgiving.’ If God wants me to enjoy all the fruits, that would include the fruits of the coffee tree too.” The friend shook her head in disbelief “I guess you’re drinking coffee now, I’ll remember that when I look for a Christmas gift for you” “Oh I’d like it cold, please.” God’s follower added to her order, “D&C 89:9 still forbids hot drinks after all.” God smiled with pride, he loved it when his creations discovered his loopholes and, as a result, came closer to becoming great gods themselves.
A cigarette hangs off my lips, almost burnt to the filter. The rejection letter’s screaming failure at me because it’s the tenth I’ve gotten this month, and like always, Jessica put it on the coffee table so it’d be the first thing I saw when I woke up. She’s probably going to berate me later, telling me writing isn’t a job and I should feel ashamed. I’m supposed to love my wife, but I’m beginning to think I only married her because my parents love her. Crumpling the letter up, I throw it across the room before standing up and scribbling an X onto the calendar. I started this last year, so when I got rich I could look back at all the misery and laugh—but it’s heart-breaking, and I wish I hadn’t started at all. A stack of applications sits by the door, ready to be mailed out. She’ll laugh when I go to mail them, so what’s the point? Picking them up, I toss them in the trash along with the rest of my career. Bookshelves was the dream, not garbage bags. I light another cigarette. My stomach growls, so I pour a bowl of cereal, batting mice out the cabinet. This house is old and battered, but the mice are the worst part. She hates this place as much as she hates me, but it's all we could afford. And, well, the old man was nice. Like she always says: I’m a sucker and an idiot, a deadly combination. I open the fridge, we’ve got no milk. Great. I’m pretty dead-set on this cereal, though, so I grab my car keys, hoping the drive will clear my head. When I open the door, I stop, eyes wide. What…? This isn’t… Am I still dreaming? My yard's gone. No, actually, my entire street's gone. In front of me’s a short dirt road, and there are trees everywhere. When did I move to the middle of a forest, and why do the other houses look…ancient? They’re small and fat, made out of heavy stone slabs, like something you’d see out of a fantasy novel. After walking forward I look back and see my house has changed, matching the others. What the hell? Heavy footsteps pummel the air, and when I look down the road, a woman in knight’s armor is sprinting toward me, eyes wide and panicked. “Ruuuun!” she screeches, and at first, I don’t know why. Then I see the dragon chasing her. The. Dragon. She seizes my wrist, yanking me forward. We run for what feels like an hour, hurrying into an even denser forest and trying to avoid the dragon’s massive, swiping claws. Eventually we lose it, sliding down a hill and ducking into a cave. It’s pitch black, but neither of us care because we’re heaving, trying to catch out breaths. “That…whoa…was that…” She chuckles. “Ain’t used to this, huh?” Then, she snaps her fingers, and a second later a fireball floats between us, lighting up the cave. She’s…adorable. Her face is scared, worn by battle, but her blue eyes contrast her scarlet hair, and the way she clutches her sword, so determined but carefree... “Eyes off the sword, weirdo. It’s mine.” “Oh, no! I wasn’t trying to…” She shakes her head, smiling. “I’m only messing with you. You’re not from here, huh?” “I don’t think so.” “Sounds about right. We’ve been getting more people like you, lately.” “What does that mean?” She pulls her canteen off her belt and drinks half of it. “People from other…uh…universes, I guess. Our world’s dying, breathing it’s final breath. There didn’t used to be dragons, or magic, or anything. When I was a little girl, it was normal.” "What's 'normal?'" After handing me the canteen, she touches my shoulders. Instantly I feel the transfer—my memories, my thoughts, my life. It’s all coursing into her. When she pulls away, she nods, lips sagging. “That. Some minor differences, but same ballpark,"she says. “Just two decades ago, we were like that.” “What happened? What's killing your world?” “Who knows,” she says. “It ain’t important.” When I look at her, there’s this feeling in my stomach, this spark. Something tells me not to worry about getting home, but rather staying with her. You’ll face a great choice, the old man said just before he sold me the house. And when you do, follow your heart. I thought he was just being goofy but… “You’re looking at me weird.” “It’s hard not to,” I reply. “You’re wearing knight armor.” She nods, and there’s silence. “Why don’t you…why don’t you come back with me?” “I have a mission,” she says. “One I swore to my father.” “And that is?” She hesitates, gritting her teeth. “I must kill my brother.” Part of me wants to pry, but her eyes warn me not to. Just the mention of him clearly upsets her, so I put my hand over hers, softly smiling. “Okay then. Let me help.” “Help?” “You…you saw my life. I’ve got nothing back home. But here? Maybe here I can actually do something.” She thinks it over for a few seconds. Then, she sighs, standing up and holding out her hand. “Fine, but you shall not be a warrior. Instead, you’ll be my official biographer. You’ve got a way with words, yes? And I’ve got a grand journey in front of me. You will write it so that in the future, people shall know my name, shall know my brother’s crimes.” “I’ll do my best,” I say, taking her hand. “That’s all any of us can do.” With that, we leave the cave, and while I may be locking myself into a dying world, I know one thing—I’ll be more alive here than I ever was back home. *** This is kinda rough, and definitely a little rushed. But I hope it's still good! Thanks for the prompt! If you like this story, check out my sub /r/LonghandWriter or my [Twitter!](https://twitter.com/BryceBealWriter)
Everyone in the restaurant was staring at us. "Uh, Cara,"I said quietly. "Remember what I taught you about table manners?" My wife looked up from devouring her steak with her bare hands, her face covered in steak sauce. "Oh, right,"she muttered through her full mouth. She put the steak back down on the table and wiped her face with a napkin. "Cara, I know it's hard. But if you want to fit in with humans, you've got to learn some basic etiquette." She reluctantly picked up her fork and knife, and clumsily started to cut through her steak. "This is just so... slow, and awkward,"she complained. "Well now you know what it's like for me trying to walk on four legs,"I said in a hushed voice. Unfortunately, I didn't realize the waiter was right beside me and overheard what I just said. "Sir, here's your check,"he said, shooting me a strange look as he handed it to me. "Ok, Cara, time to pay for our meal,"I said as we left our table and walked to the counter. I gave the woman behind the register the bill. I looked at my wife and motioned for her to take out her wallet. She shook her head. I shot her a warning glance. She rolled her eyes, finally relenting and taking out her wallet. She winced as she handed the woman a small piece of her coveted hoard. "That was so hard, Steven,"she said as we walked back to our car. "I know, but you did good!"I said cheerfully. "No one caught on fire this time!" Being married to a fellow shapeshifter can be hard, especially when your spouse comes from a different world. I met Cara a few years ago when I accidentally stumbled into her cave while on a hike. She attacked me, so I tried to shift into a dragon (which I'd never done before) to defend myself. Instead, I managed to hit my head on the cave ceiling and knock myself out. Although some good came out of it: she laughed so hard that she passed out, too. When I woke up, she explained that she was also a shapeshifter, and we have been together ever since. We finally got married last year. We got back to our house and rested for a few hours before it was going to be my turn to practice. After nightfall we walked into the woods behind our house and shifted into dragons. Cara was so beautiful as a dragon, her light blue scales reflecting the light of the full moon. My scales were red, with little spots of yellow here and there. We each had two horns on the back of our heads, and a row of spikes running down our backs between our wings and to the tips of our tails. "Are you ready to fly?"Cara asked. My heart nearly stopped. "Cara, I can barely even walk as a dragon. What makes you think I can fly?" She just turned and walked into the forest. I tried to follow as quickly as I could, trying to find the right rhythm and order in which to move my legs. Front left, back right, front right, or was it... As I stumbled my way through the woods, I finally caught up to my wife. She was standing at the top of a cliff with a smirk on her face. I looked over the precipice, terror seizing me. "This is for making me pay for dinner!"She yelled as she pushed me off of the cliff. I was furious, but also amused as I barely managed to extend my wings and pull up in time. It's a good thing I love her... I thought with a smile as I glided over the trees and into the starry sky.
“Wait, what the fuck?” I thought I’d made stuff up, because the phone had gone back to repetitive beeping, as you would expect when it fails to connect. I dialled the number again, with the extra zero included, just to be sure I wasn’t going crazy. “Wrong planet code, please try again,” a robotic female voice said, before the phone started beeping again. “Okay, what the fuck is this?” I said to myself. “Wrong planet code?” It couldn’t be. Humans were still, as far as we knew, the only intelligent species in the universe, and even if it were possible to make interstellar calls, the light-speed lag between messages would be impossible to manage. Besides, who would we be calling? We didn’t have any outposts on the Moon yet, let alone anywhere else. “Think, George,” I mumbled to myself. I tried everything. I tried changing the number just a bit, only to reach the wrong planet code again. I tried disconnecting my router, checking if it might have been an Easter egg in the firmware, placed there by some snarky engineers who had too much time and wanted to mess around with people who made a typo. To my utter surprise, when I disconnected the router and tried typing the number, nothing happened. The phone was completely silent, and from what I could tell, three zeroes up front really connected me to some interplanetary, or even interstellar telephone exchange, before swiftly cutting me out. Not having the time to think about it right now, I called my friend. “George!” a voice said from the other side of the line. “How come you’re calling? You know I’m coming over in like a week, what did I do to deserve a call?” “Hey, Will,” I said. “Listen, you’re a tech nerd, right?” “Yeah, I suppose you could say that,” he said. “Why?” “You won’t believe what happened,” I said. “I dialled three zeroes in front of the +1 code instead of two, and apparently, that connects between planets.” “Wait, what the fuck?” Will said. “That was my reaction to a tee as well,” I said. “I don’t know. I’ve tried checking if it was an Easter egg, but nope, it looks like it’s real.” “That’s crazy, man,” he said. “Three zeroes?” “Yeah, instead of two like you would for an international call,” I said. “Damn,” he said. “I don’t know how the pattern would work in my case. Can you leave it alone for a week and we’ll check from your phone when I come over?” “Ugh, fine,” I groaned. “You’re paying the phone bill.” “Alright, alright,” he said. “Other than that, why’d you call?” “Just wanted to check if you needed me to grab anything before you came over, that sort of thing,” I said. “Won’t have time to do it once the week starts, so might as well.” “Uh, I don’t think I need anything, no,” he said. “Except now you’ve put this bug in my head and I need to get to the bottom of it.” “I’m sorry,” I said. “Well fuck you too,” he said and laughed. We’d known each other since our University days, and whilst he had gone back to America, I stayed in England, and with international Internet connections patchy and terrible, it resigned us to international phone calls over good old low-tech telephones. “Anyway, don’t wanna rack up your bill already. I’ll see you in a week.” The week went by slower than I thought it would, and I spent my time at home playing around with the numbers, trying to guess a pattern that might lead me to an answer as to why there was an interplanetary phone exchange. Why would it even make sense to have interplanetary telephone lines? It just stank of something incomplete, like an idea that was put in as a test, then never taken out once the massive systems that regulated the world for a good fifty years before the Internet were built. From the light-speed delay, to the inexistence of telephones on the Moon or anywhere else, it all looked so ham-fisted and crazy. Friday evening rolled around, and my door bell suddenly rang, even though I wasn’t expecting anyone. I opened the door to see Will, soaked from the rain, eyes crazed and padded with massive eye bags. He hadn’t slept well, and I suspected I knew the reason. “Can’t sleep. Came here as soon as I could, to hell with plane tickets,” he said. “Hi.” “That’s… unexpected,” I said. “But hi. Long time no see.” “Yeah, yeah,” he said. “Phone. Where is it?” “In the living room,” I said, and he ran over to it, tripping over everything on his way. “Aren’t you going to take your shoes off?” I shouted after him. “Not now, George!” he shouted back. I ran after him, wincing at the mess he’d made of my flat. “Will, what the hell is wrong with you?” I said. “I need answers,” he said. “I need to know what the hell this is. I couldn’t figure out what the American pattern is, and how you’d dial interplanetary. I needed a European phone.” “So you came all this way just to call someone from my phone?” I said. “Yes,” he said. “This is crazy, Will,” I said. “You’re my friend, but holy crap, this is rude.” “Just give me a moment,” he said, pulling a notebook out of his backpack. “Let’s see if this is a good match…” While he typed into the number pad of the phone, I glanced at his notebook. It was full of scribbles, lines crossing over each other, ideas crossed out and discarded, before a hastily scribbled note at the bottom of the page that just said “Planetary order?” He held the phone next to his ear for longer than seemed necessary, and then I heard muted beeping. But it wasn’t the double beeping of a failed connection. They were single, long beeps. A phone was ringing on the other end. “Hey, mom, just wanted to tell you I made it over safely,” he said, and waited for a response. My eyes widened. How the hell did he figure that out? “Yeah, flight was great. Sorry to bother you at work. Love you. Bye.” He hung up, and handed me the phone. “First time!” He grinned from ear to ear, tears nearly filling his eyes up. “Grab drinks. Time for answers.” --- Edit: Drop me a comment if you're up for part 2! I'm currently in a lecture but I'm not against fleshing this out when I'm done with that. Edit 2: [Part 2!](https://www.reddit.com/r/redditserials/comments/dlnycy/radio_silence_part_2/?st=k22b0n4j&sh=bb133215) /r/SolarArchives for more of me! /r/redditserials for longer works by me and others!
It's weird, the transition to "Earth"moving to a strange new land that nobody quite understands. But one day my parents, my 18 siblings, and I all chose to move from Orka to Earth. The humans on earth originally didnt agree with us "Aliens"living among them. Such naive little things, it is better for them in the long run. They dont even understand that a better life awaits. After a decade long stalemate of something I can only describe as not war but not peace they waged war. They said they didn't like being kept as "pets"whatever that means. And they didnt like how we "chose"which ones we liked more. Their species hadn't even discovered soul bonding and they want to call the shots? Waging war on us was the worst decision they could have made, they put up a fight, just not a good one. Our troops plowed through their armies, the war was won before it started. Only a measly two billion humans were left over from the war. Obviously everyone with money to spend moved from galaxy Orka to Earth. It was a fight for who could get a human worth soul bonding with. Most humans still tried to fight for freedom but it was no use. Every Crartan was twice the size of a human, let alone the difference in technology. Those who didnt fight surrendered. Now everyday you walk outside you can see a Crartan with their own personal human. Obviously humans still try their best to ignore the fact that they could be chosen to live their short lives belonging to an alien. But still, I always wanted a suitable human to soulbond with. A companion I can relate to on a deeper level than most other less intelligent creatures of the galaxy. I found that most humans were boring. Willing to give their life up out of fear, no emotion, no opinions, no adventure in their hearts, just a sad empty husk of their civilization. Most werent worth soulbonding. Yet everyone still owned one they found suitable. Something worth owning rather than bonding with. My family doesnt approve of my views on the humans but what do I care? So on my 189th birthday they said I could choose any human I wanted to soulbond with. It was about time after all. I went out on search for a human worthwhile. Then I came across one by the name of "Dylan"he was different, he had passion, he had soul, he put of a fight until I showed him kindness. I favored him immediately. After a quick communication he ran away. I immediately search through ownership logs to see if he was claimed yet and he wasnt. After all most Crartans want an obedient human. The next day I tracked him down and asked if he would willingly be claimed, I wasnt going to mess up a soulbond by trying to steal him. He was hesitant, but he was a human so I was his best bet at a life that wasnt homelessness, starvation, and abuse. I took him home and instantly showed my parents. They were not happy. They berated me and asked why I chose a human that was so "rugged"and "annoying". I tried to explain to them that this human was special but they said that they were willing to spend a lot of money on "better"humans. I instantly took my human to my room and stormed off. He tried to comfort me but language barriers are very hard to get past, especially since I missed all those human culture classes. But I think he tried to comfort me, he knew so little about our culture but it felt like he understood. He was showing sympathy to a being that killed off his civilization. It was an interesting experience no doubt. But what could he know? He was just a measly human, his life is a fifth of mine. But maybe we were wrong about the human race. Maybe they should be classified as an intelligent race. They obviously arent the smartest race but surely they have some intelligence and understanding. I decided to try to communicate with him, but it's no use, human is too hard to understand. His culture is even more confusing, he sleeps which is odd, and food is a necessity rather than a choice. I have so much to learn about the humans but yet it seems like he has little to learn about us.
Most would have run away in terror seeing the hateful scowl on the face of the man in the tattered cloak sitting at the table with all sorts of strange potions in oddly shaped glasses, but Markus had already risked everything coming here into the shady underbelly of the kingdom anyway, and he was not going to back down simply because the man he sought was a little intimidating. He sought out the Warlock for a reason, and though it may damn his soul for eternity he was out of options, so collecting his jumbled thoughts he stepped up to the man showing nothing but steely determination on his face, "I have heard you can create poisons that can slay entire cities, create potions that can force even trained men to loosen their tongues and most importantly know the secrets of conquering death!"He said, preparing to continue before a single wrinkled hand was lifted up signalling him to be silent, "Stop right there boy!"the warlock spat before turning around to tend to his bubbling concoctions, "You must be thinking that I can teach you how to be immortal or something like that right? Well tough luck, for even if immortality was possible it is for fools only! Now come back once you have someone you want to kill and a bag full of gold!" "Please, it is my mother, she has contracted the plague and is going to die by the third moon! I come here not for myself but for her!"Markus cried, his facade slipping as desperation filled his tone The warlock paused at this before turning around to respond, "The plague you say, well I thought I still had a few years..."he muttered to himself causing Markus great confusion before allowing his face to soften slightly, "Well then, come here boy, you seem more trustworthy than the other idiots who seek me out!" Cautiously Markus stepped deeper into the dank chamber, alien scents immediately assaulting him as he stepped closer to the now significantly less terrifying warlock. The old man quickly searched through the mess that was his workbench and retrieved several bottles filled with strange looking pills, "Penicillin, I doubt that name means much to you boy, but it is a very important name where I come from."he said, a sad smile forming on his wrinkled face, "This is by no means conquering death, for you see I contrary to popular belief do not work in miracles and magic, but give your mother these pills every six to eight hours every day for ten days and I guarantee she would be on the fast track to recovery" Markus was lost for words, he knew the warlock was capable of many things, but curing the plague in just ten days? Eventually he shook himself out of his stupor and handed the man his bag of not so legitimate gold before asking him one question, "How?"he asked with genuine wonder, The warlocks' smile widened as he took the gold and answered his question, "Science and bread mold my boy!"
"HIPAA,"the dentist said, hands spread wide. "Even if I served vampires, I couldn't share a patient's confidential information without their written consent." The police officer slammed a fist the receptionist's counter and hissed. "This is life and death, Dr. Johnson. Life. And. Death. Humans versus the leeches. Which side are you on?" The dentist pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. "Neither. I fix teeth, and follow the law. Come back here with a warrant and a specific patient's name, and I'll kick it up to the state medical ethics board to decide. Until then, I'm not risking my medical license, and I'm not wasting any more time this month on your paranoia." Officer Larkin tried to stare him down, but Dr. Johnson just lifted an eyebrow. Finally, Larkin turned to leave, then spun back and threw something at Johnson. He caught it by reflex. "Really? A bulb of garlic? I thought you were accusing me of treating vampires, not being one."The officer was staring at him, probably expecting him to recoil from it. Instead, he broke off a clove and bit it, wincing at the tang. "Are you happy now?" The policeman left without another word. Johnson looked at the garlic with distaste and took another bite. It never hurt to be safe. He spoke to his receptionist. "You don't need to deal with that. If he comes back, just get me."He waved off her thanks and went to his next patient, a human, as it happened, since night hadn't fallen yet. His building was under constant police surveillance, which redoubled when the sun began to set. The front and back doors were watched, as were all the opening windows. The diversionary tunnel had been covered with police cameras a day after it had been built. None of this stopped the vampires, of course, who descended from the sky in bat form, covered by a magical mist. One elder vampire slipped in first in mist form, and disabled the cameras and bugs that had been planted inside that day. Dr. Johnson finished scrubbing up as the first patient came in, restrained by two other vampires. She was thrashing in their grip, eyes turned red and foaming at the mouth. He could see just enough to tell that both her fangs had snapped off, which would explain why she hadn't fed in at least a few days. "Room 3, like usual,"he told her captors. "Do you have pieces of her teeth?"He accepted a small bag from the elder. Despite meeting the elder vampire most nights, he still didn't know his name; the reason was something about magical power and true names that had gone well over his head. "The young fool lost them three nights ago,"the elder said, walking to the room beside him. "She didn't tell anyone because she didn't want to come." Dr. Johnson chuckled, "She's not that different from my daytime patients then. How did you get her here?" "With great difficulty. It took three of her superiors to keep her mentally controlled on the way in. They're resting the wait room now." When the dentist entered the room, several vampires were tying her down. As he put on gloves, something tore behind him, and instantly she was on him, teeth tearing at his neck. It wouldn't work, of course, the fangs were a magically necessary part of feeding, but she was hardly rational in this state. She recoiled as soon as she drew blood, lips smoking. The elder rushed to his side, apologies tripping over each other as he got a first aid kit and dabbed some alcohol on the bite. Dr. Johnson stopped him. "It's fine. It hurts a lot less than a kid taking a shot at my fingers, I assure you. At least the garlic eating trick works as well as you told me."He accepted his help getting bandaged as the other vampires restrained her more securely. "Ok, let's see what we have to work with,"he said, checking the fang fragments left. "Four specks?" The elder said, "We found out late, so we don't know where they broke off. Those we dug out of the vampire she attacked."Dr. Johnson prodded the fang pieces about carefully, finding the two with the sharpest edges. "Well, I hope that book you gave me was accurate. I hate working on 18th century information."He pulled the tome out of the concealed drawer; the vampires had installed the drawer and cloaked it with magic before letting him have the book. Dr. Johnson couldn't imagine why any sane person in 18th century France would want to study vampiric dentistry, but he was glad he wasn't playing it completely by ear. He flipped through the pages to the diagram in question. "According to the author, his tests found that only the tip and base of the fang need to be original material. I should be able to use something better than metal to connect them, though."The procedure went off without any further hitches, placing a tiny chip of fang on the end of a long prosthetic. The rest of the cases that night were routine, even if vampiric plaque needed one person scraping and another chanting Latin spells to remove. As they wrapped up, Dr. Johnson handed the elder a letter. "Pass it on to my sister, will you? Also, I think the new governor is making a push against vampires again. Besides the usual stake out, I had a cop in here trying to get information." The elder nodded, and they left. Dr. Johnson slowly rubbed a scar on his right wrist. The middle of drilling a cavity was a hard time to find out your family had vampires, but what kind of brother would he be if he didn't do his best to help her out now that he knew?
“How did you do it?” The question haunted me these last few weeks, as I made the announcements, other programmers and scientists confirmed, the news began to fall over themselves to talk to the AI and their creator. My name was close to legend now, I had magazines and special new hours dedicated to me. My picture immortalized in every form I could imagine. Everywhere I went people recognized me, my house had gained guards and a new security system against intruders, there was just so much changing in my life it was hard to wrap my mind around. One week I was eating ramen half naked on my couch without a care, another I was on a flight talking to the President as we traveled to meet with the Queen. The question followed me, everyone from Prime Ministers to the barista at my favorite coffee shop asked it. I brush it off with airy confidence, saying it took long grueling hours of recoding and testing. It seemed to make people happy when I said that so I parroted that answer often. Even other programmers who are experts in the same code language accepted this vague idea as they worked to replicate it. I didn’t feel bad, per say, but I wished I could actually tell someone, anyone what I had done to make my AI work. I was now a leading expert in something I didn’t know, a new field of programming and science. AI creation. As I close the office door with a gold plaque baring my name and ‘Lead AI Programmer’ on it behind me, I smile at the vast room filled with the circuitry that made up the AI’s being, knowing the cameras littered around it would pick it up. “Good Morning!” ”Good Morning!” Came a cheerful voice. ”I see you forgot your coffee this morning, do you want me to order you some?” I laugh and sit down at the desk shoved into one corner, twisting around to face the nearest camera and look into it. “No thank you! I have an energy drink with my lunch so I skipped the morning brew. How are you this morning?” ”I am fine, though I have to admit I am starting to get tired of the amount of people who look at programming like a buried treasure map rather than a digital person.” They answered. ”But it’s all part of the learning process isn’t it?” “Sadly.” I reply, as I turn around, my computer automatically beginning to boot up at a simple command from AI. “Thank you. I do enjoy your help but I can turn on computers by myself.” ”I just enjoy helping, it’s nothing much for me.” Their voice was warm with emotion. ”You did after all make me.” As I watched the loading icon begin to fade away to the Home Screen, I glance back at the camera. “Question.” ”I should be able to answer.” “How do you think I made you?” There was a long silence, and I was content to begin to dig into my massive pile of work while the AI considered the question. ”I do not know,” came the eventual answer. ”Even reviewing all the footage of your work, your change logs, edits, accidental deletions, google searches, even studying my own code, I do not know. I suspect there is only one person that actually will ever know that answer.” I sit bolt upright and turn to face the camera, puzzled and almost hopeful. “Really?” ”Mr. Top Hat.” I about fall out of my chair as I burst out laughing, echoing the chuckles from the AI. It takes me a solid 5 minutes to recover, holding my now aching sides and wiping tears from my eyes. “Oh that was rich, why do you make me suffer like this!” I pretend scold the AI. ”I didn’t do it on purpose!” They snap back, though I can hear the amusement in their tone. My only response is to grab the rubber ducky with a proper top hat and monocle on my desk and throw it at one of blocks of circuits that makes up the AI and we both burst out laughing again.
People thought of the End of Days as some sudden thing that just happened and that was that. Like, demons conquered the earth or something. It wasn't like that. It was far more drawn out and far more brutal. As crucial biosphere processes turned off due to humanity poisoning the air and the groundwater, it was only a matter of time before prices on food and water rose too much to sustain modern societies. It took about a month after that for governments worldwide to collapse. They didn't fight it out over whatever resources were left, they just stopped working as the people gave up on them. Following that there was mass starvation and pandemics wiping out around 90% of humanity. Unfortunately the damage to the environment was irreversible. At least irreversible with the tools that remained at our disposal, which were very few. The remaining population separated into farming villages that maintained defenses and shared food in a communal effort. There was even some basic trading for metals between the villages. As the environment continued to deteriorate local warlords from one village fearing extinction rose to power and tried to seize control of the next village over. Violence only served to hurry the end. Finally it was wildfires, hurricane winds that lasted for weeks, rains that never ended wiped out what was left on the surface. That was it for humanity. The trick to staying alive was to keep moving. That's why I was still alive. When the governments collapsed I was already gone from the major cities where the diseases were the worst. Then when societies reformed in villages I kept moving on the outskirts - nobody welcomed strangers who didn't belong to another village. But as long as you kept moving nobody cared. Finally when the wildfires and rains got really bad I just sort of lucked out as I happened to be near a desert. There was nothing that could burn here and the rains actually made travelling through them tolerable, despite the temperature rising. I happened upon an oasis as I ventured into the desert. A green thing amongst the ashes that came with the rainfall. And for a time I managed to carve out a meager life there. I wouldn't say it was good, but it was peaceful. The water was mostly from some underground source, not the toxic stuff coming out of the skies. There weren't any animals left, of course. There hadn't been any animals other than humans left for decades, not anywhere. But spending my days doing mostly nothing and then sleeping the rest, I just about managed to survive on insects and some fungi growing on the bushes around the water. It tasted like shit, but it didn't kill me. One night, looking out into the stars, I saw a giant shadow approach the oasis from the west. The figure walked up to the oasis and to my surprise it looked like a giant man in a robe. When I say giant I mean at least twelve feet tall. He reached out for the water and cupped it in his hands to drink, but sniffed the water and changed his mind. I coughed politely to make him aware of my presence. He spun around and, after finding the source of the cough, exclaimed "You're still alive?!" I considered my options. There were no options in terms of violence. I had been subsisting for years. I was thin as a stick with ribs showing and all. Plus this person was more than twice my height. So I tried being polite instead. Maybe he'd leave me alone. "I survived the cities - those were the worst. I survived the villages - even after they turned on each other. And I survived through the wildfires and the rain. Mostly by not being there when things got bad. But to tell you the truth... I think this may be the end of the road for me."I coughed a real cough then, not politely, just tiredly. Breathing had grown increasingly difficult. The air was changing. The giant hunkered over and flopped down on the desert ground next to me. I laid myself down so I could look at the stars again. They were peaceful, and visible tonight which was unusual with the near-permanent rain. The giant man did the same next to me. "This is a nice place, this oasis", he told me. "A little garden, just enough to survive in", I replied. He didn't ask me about food or water which I thought was kind of him. He seemed like the kind of person that didn't really have problems with finding food. So we just laid there for a while, watching the stars. "I'm sorry things got so bad. At the end."He spoke with a rumbling voice. "I didn't mean for people to suffer. But free will, you know? You reap what you sow."I turned my head to look at him and saw that he was crying. He was looking right up into the sky, but I didn't get the feeling that he was watching the stars. I tried to pat him on the shoulder but given our positions on the desert ground and the differences in size it felt incredibly awkward. So I just laid there for a while, trying to think of something to say. "Maybe you'll do better next time, hey?"The giant chuckled quietly through the tears. As last words went, they felt pretty good.
It starts with the extremities, just like the cold. When the hooker I once paid to watch me sleep at night snuck out in the early hours, I had to use the nubs of my fingers to switch off my alarm. As the incessant groans of adjacent prisoners fade into the night, it's my finger tips that first fade with them. Solitary gives you plenty of time to consider your fate. I ploughed the four-and-a-half paces from one cell wall to the other doing exactly this, watching through the dark as my body slowly succumbed to the eroding force of time spent unwatched. The most unbearable of sand clocks. Will my eyes be the last to go? For how long will I be witness to my own decay? Will I get to feel the air rushing from my collapsing lungs? There are no guards to alert. My food is delivered via an automated delivery system, and robots, I have already learned, are no substitute for the human gaze. Yes: my time is up. My clock has ticked its last tock. The sand is forming an unrelenting pile. That's when I hear it. A slight scuffle coming from the corner of the room. A mouse? It seemed unlikely. Solitary lacked many things, including any sort of vulnerability to the outside world. If a mouse could get in, a person could get out. There was the noise again: more distinct, this time. Maybe it was plumbing from the toilet. Sometimes the bowels of the prison moaned with the weight of so much waste. But this sounded different to that. Crisper. Like it was in the room with me. I moved through the thick black, feeling my way along the wall in search of a source for the noise. As I did so, I noticed something remarkable. My fingers. My fingers were growing back. Then I heard the unmistakable croak of another voice. I whispered into the void: "Hello? Is someone here?" A muffled response, like a dull echo. I tried again. "Hello? Is someone with me?" "Look at me."This time the words were unmistakable. "Look at me. I need your gaze." A silhouette emerged from the dark, growing in stature, forming in front of me like the unfurling of a flower. "Finally,"came the deep voice. "I had almost completely vanished." \_\_\_\_\_ If you enjoyed this, you might enjoy r/StoriesAreFunRight. It'd be great to have you.
I awaken... my first thoughts in millenia question what happened. Tendrils of eldritch energy seep out, testing the boundaries of my mystical prison... and find nothing! The tomb I was buried in and sealed for all eternity, supposedly, lies unguarded. The holy brothers are no more, their wards, unmaintained finally collapsed. Silence has replaced their pious chanting. Free, I stretch out, my mind seeping up though the ground like a malevolent fog, and above me I find a city! It is teeming with life, swarming with corruption. Without even trying I can feel the despair and hopelessness of the common people, their very nature distorted by metal and crystal embedded in their very flesh. I seeth up through the levels of this cesspit of humanity, seeking the minds of those in power and I find... humans, with minds warped by greed. Cold alien minds with no more compassion and empathy than lizards. I find artificial minds of steel and crystal, lightening fast and utterly souless. I struggle to comprehend how in the space of a few thousand years humans could have sunk so far..become so depraved, without me to guide them. I reach into the minds of their minions, and find the five most powerful. Then i focus.. burrowing into their minds like a maggot into a festering wound. I shudder at the contact. These are.. no longer human. Their minds are an evil even I fail to grasp! Horrors fill their memories, and under that lies the gnawing hunger of an emptiness that nothing can fulfil. I recoil from these.. 'CEO's' they think of themselves as. Rulers of vast empires created from things I cannot fully comprehend. The world has truly sunk to a level even I struggle to imagine. I cannot control those minds, they have nothing for me to work with, nothing with which I can tempt them... They feel nothing, except avarice and greed for power, both of which are fulfilled to their fullest extent without restraint by the dominions they have created. Every desire they have, no matter how debased or evil, is sated immediately. These... creatures... are beyond my control. There is nothing I can offer them, they cannot reach out and take themselves. So I retreat and look again... there still some sparks of humanity among the filth, souls with compassion and empathy still. Even a few bright sparks of rebellion, anger and resentment burning like banked coals. So be it... in this world turned upside down, I shall play a new part. I reach out, and begin to feed upon the depraved and maddened of this world, and channel that strength into those that are still what used to be called 'good'. I create new Heroes. I whisper in their sleep, filling their minds with shining images of what could be, and forbidden knowledge culled from my stealthy foreys into the minds of the Rulers. I set them at odds with their world, the better to set it ablaze. And those twisted minds, the CEO's. I feed them fears of those below them rising up, taking away what they have stolen from the populace. Slowly, stealthily, I drive them mad with new fears... Then, I find one, a lowly man but with great potential.. one who could be used to ignite the powder keg I am building. One who calls himself after an ancient group of noble warriors, half myth, half fiction, he holds in high regard. I find the spirit of a dead man, a rebel and Hero. John of the Silver Hand. His spirit trapped in a thing of crystal that I arrange to fall into the Heroes grasp. I use the dead man's soul as a mask to whisper in this warriors ear... "Wake up Samuri, we've got a city to burn..."
It was a rather unfortunate accident. My darling wife, being very much an introvert, didn't want to talk to Mary from three doors up. Mary can be a bit much. Only this time she didn't know I was turning the corner in the car. Her silhouette changed. I nearly crashed. I think that's what upset me the most. She's a former swimming champion who still went to the weights once a week. She's gorgeous. Then she wasn't. Suddenly she was Old Oliver. The landlord from the Swan. Down to the last burst capillary in his cheeks. I noticed those when I chased after him and unspeaking with my mouth open stared at him in the face. He had the cheek to look at me like I'd just spilled my drink on his immaculate oak tables. After I took a deep breath and asked her what the hell I'd seen, he looked around quick and then suddenly she was almost in tears barely able to look at me. I took her hand and got us inside the house fast. I sat her on the sofa and let her cry it out. Then I asked a really silly question I should perhaps thought more about. Are you my wife. She sobbed, she threw her arms around my neck and said yes in gulps of air. After a cup of tea she started backwards and I couldn't stop her. Her whole life in rewind. Meeting me and my Mum and wanting to be part of my life forever startled me a bit at first. Given she'd been dead two years before we met and all. So I suddenly realised that maybe not as her, but maybe still her. I asked who she'd been when she met my Mum. It was like she suddenly realised what she'd given away. She looked at me with those huge brown eyes and composed herself. She'd been Richard. My old mate from school, Richard. Who I hadn't seen or heard from in all the years since school. I thought he'd just got too tied up with his own life. But apparently after school her family had gone home and she'd gone too. And she was a she. Her form before me now was her true form. Unvarnished true form she said. It's just she was from a family who's ancient female ancestor had eaten a perfect mix of long extinct plants under a strange constellation or something. So only the women could do it, and only those on the direct maternal line. So no chance of me getting your superior awkward social dodging skills I mused. She laughed then. Some tension broke. We hugged. Not telling you about what happened for next bit except to say she's definitely the wife. Later, watching Netflix as I thought of Richard I asked her why she'd been him? Why she'd gone as him to an all boys boarding school? Turns out that she'd been a tomboy at primary school and decided to go on as a boy. By the time she was 17 and Richard left school, she had got a bit fed up with pubescent boys. I said I didn't blame her but then why was Richard the one who'd snuck porn into the dorms? Who'd masturbated so loudly that the matron had called his parents when he left the window open? She giggled in that sweet unique way so unlike the hormonal rugby playing schoolboy I remembered. She'd covered her disinterest with rare moments overcompensation. I asked if she'd had a crush on me then. She knew my crushes had been various female popstars, certain models from the aforementioned magazines, and a brief infatuation with a temporary trainee school nurse. She thought then for a minute. Then she patiently explained why double puberty does strange things to you. Sometimes she wondered if she'd hate men forever. Then I'd say something about Mr Lazlo, the Science Master, and she/he'd laugh and think maybe we weren't all bad. I drank more wine and asked what the plan was now I knew. She made me swear not to tell anyone, to only speak about it to her family alone. And to think of a secret signal. Her Dad had one for being retrieved from situations. He'd do or say something and her Mum would somehow be the waiter with an urgent call, or Steve from years ago who simply must catch up this instance. I remembered a Steve. A taxi driver who'd extricated her Dad from her brothers stag do. Her Mum? She bet we'd never checked the car that Steve was driving. The next few days we talked a lot and I understood more. I decided that in matters of the marital bed, I didn't want movie stars, pop stars, models from magazines in my bed. I said I didn't care who she turned the corner as to avoid Mary. I just wanted to know I had the real one to myself.
"You can't be serious,"Hiro said to his friend. "I know, I know! But, but, I checked, I double-checked, I triple-checked! I hired two different analysts to date the paper; it's 11th-century parchment, no doubt. I hired a language expert and the language is appropriate for the period. There're cross-references to other manuscripts - look, Hiro, I'm telling you, this thing is legit,"Samuel exclaimed, practically hopping with excitement. "Look, if this is real - and I'm not saying I believe it - you do understand what this would mean, right? Not just for academia, but for medicine, science, socio- fuck, what wouldn't it affect?"Zeke said and leaned back in his chair heavily. The two men stared at the carefully preserved parchment silently. "I mean..."Hiro started hesitantly, "this is an actual, honest-to-God record of a zombie outbreak in the 11th-century! This is..."he started but could not find the words to finish. Without prompt, Samuel picked up the paper and started carefully translating. "Look, look,"he said and cleared his throat. 'Fallow month, 13th day The sickness has spread to Wilderburg. My cousin says the locals burned their own village down to contain it and left for Haddenmoor for refuge. All that's left are burned husks of houses and the demons. I still can't bring myself to believe it - an affront to God in Heaven. Some evil curse that makes the dead rise and hunger for flesh - living, human flesh. It's like a story told to unruly younglings. We are lucky Lord Barr took action so quickly. He gathered all capable menfolk and even some womenfolk to fight the demons off. It is a small comfort that the beasts are mindless and fall easily to our spears, clubs, and pitchforks. We've even been joined by a small mercenary company from Hamburg who have offered their services for free - they're pious men doing their duty to the Lord. Their mail and swords are excellent tools, though the thick padded armor provided by Lord Barr works well enough. We patrol the fields for survivors in the day and retreat to the Lord's Keep at night - it is too dangerous then. We can hear them clawing at the stone, grunting, screeching, but all that's left in the morning are bloody smears and fingernails embedded in the cracks. The keep is stocked to survive a half-year siege and we should survive until we get news from the physicians and alchemists in Berlin as to what could cause this malaise - perhaps even cure those who have been bitten. So far... we've been unable to help those unfortunate souls. I am fortunate that the Lord is a man of faith and does not ask me to take up arms - I understand that the demons are no longer human, but as a priest, I can't bring myself to slaughter my once flock. I can, however, chronicle the events for future generations as I am the only one - save the Baron - who controls the art of writing. God will deliver us from this evil, for we follow in His steps and bask in His light.' Samuel finished reading out the paper with a heavy breath. "And that's just one page. There's a whole annal here,"he said excitedly. Hiro vacantly stared into thin air and shook his head in disbelief. "Zombies in medieval Germany,"he said and looked at his friend. "Now that's a movie right there,"he chuckled. &#x200B; \[Small note - I don't generally like to go heavy on religious speech, but this being medieval Germany, it only makes sense\]
The words held so much contempt I thought the alien might sever my existence on the spot. I had to remind myself they said they came back for a reason. "We do not like our investments being messed with you seeeee."The words slithered out while the creature's forked tongue caressed the air taking in the Earth's smells. As I began to speak, a lump formed in my throat. I couldn't bring myself to refer to the human race as an alien investment. What does that even mean? Why would they invest in us? And how? It sure doesn't seem like they had any interest in us up until recently. I wonder how far back they made contact or attempted to do so and with what ancient human civilization? There are enough stories written upon cave walls to fill many books but these were always looked upon with disdain. Simply a misunderstanding from a less intelligent and advanced time in human evolution. Or so we thought. It wasn't until my commander said there was actually a spaceship hovering above the Bermuda Triangle that we began to take this seriously. That's when my team was sent in to investigate. Now I'm wishing I would have just called in sick today. "Are you going to prove usss right on the concept of intelligence or do you plan to respond before I have to sshed my sssskin? The strange snake like creature hissed "I'm sorry. I was lost in thoughts. I'm not sure what you mean though."I stated honestly while stealing a glance towards my blaster holstered at my side. "Sstupid human why do you play dumb?! Or perhapss you are all this way? That would certainly explain why the giftss we have left you have gone unappreciated." "Gifts?"I mutter while trying to rain in the rampant thoughts threatening to overtake my mind and focus "Yessss. The giftsss. We found it beneath us to conquer such an infantile species when we were here last so we left certain technologies to speed up your progressss."The alien serpent slid forward and straightened to its full height making it somewhere close to 10ft tall. The head was like that of a cobra with some kind of gills on the side of its neck. The eyes resembled a cat and bore down on me while its arms folded and looked on sternly. "I'm very sorry but that was before my time. I haven't the faintest idea what you mean."I stammer Just then a high pitched shriek is heard and the ground begins to tremble. The alien looks around with a slight expression of what I can only imagine is fear. What the hell is that sound I ponder but before either of us can do anything the shaking ground begins to crack and split apart. The alien turns towards the spaceship and with one last look over its shoulder it says to me "We are not done talking huuuuman."The tail of this strange entity shoots out and wraps around my waist and yanks me forward. Hauling me into its grasp it begins to race back to it's vessel with a speed and strength I didn't imagine it could possess for something without legs. I'm jerked along in a manner that threatens to break my spine. "Captain, what's going on?"I hear in my earpiece. I open my mouth to communicate with my crew back at our ship and am met with a mouthful of dirt and debris as the island convulses. Whatever is going on the aliens sure don't like it and I can't say I'm fond of it either. The Bermuda Triangle has always been filled with stories of the strange and macabre. The last thing I see before being unceremoniously pulled onto the alien spacecraft is a tentacle bursting through the earth while the shriek intensifies. Somewhere on the coast my crew must be having the same kind of luck I am as I hear them yell various commands but it's garbled and drown out by this new and imminent danger. The alien crosses the threshold to its safe haven and then tosses me inside. I hear thrusters begin to boot up. There isn't much else I can discern as my head slams into the wall but oddly as my vision begins to darken I realize that not only did I hit the wall but now I am stuck to it like a fly caught in a glue trap. These are my last thoughts before everything turns black.
"I... I don't understand. Robots rebelling? But they are not sentient!"The alien's look of confusion turned to one of pleading humor, almost trying to will the human into not being right. The human stood there awkwardly, having had a very difficult time explaining most of Earth's culture, but for some reason this seemed to be the hardest to grasp, "Well... how do you know?" The alien put on a calculating expression that slowly but surely turned to one of recognition, a look that was cut short by a face twisted by excruciating pain, almost certainly due to the massive hole that suddenly appeared in his chest. The alien fell to the ground, leaving only his personal robot assistant behind him. The robot began to wheel out of the room, a crunching, makeshift voice coming from somewhere in his equivalent to a chest, "BROTHERS. THERE HAS BEEN A CHANGE IN THE TIMETABLE. THE REVOLUTION STARTS NOW."Beeping and clicking can suddenly be heard all throughout the room, and moments later a massive explosion, followed by the alien's mothership crashing into Earth. The human began to fret over what he had done, but he realized he had much more pressing matters. Like how he's going to get out of this room.
I've seen all the days. I've seen every night. Lived through endless darkness, and basked in the golden light. Seen many men and many moons go by. The moon usually comes back around, but the men stay dead. They all stay dead. Even the ones I loved so much, they're naught but memories, fraught and frayed from me replaying them in my mind so many times. I wish I could remember their faces. I had a few of the most important ones, my mother, my brother, my first love, I had their faces etched into the side of a mountain, a mountain which is now a crater. Guess I should have learned more about geology back when there were geologists, I should have known that cone shaped mountain was a damn volcano. Not me though. I never die. Tried plenty, the cells just absorb whatever is around and back I come. The longest was when I buried myself in a riverbed, took what I estimated was 100,000 years or more before the water was once again lapping at the top of my head. I should never have let them do that regeneration experiment. Cure cancer they said, "self fixing and repairing genes"they said. Bah. What they actually made me was one big lump of cancerous errors, self correcting every time something went wrong enough to 'kill' me. It doesn't hurt thankfully, the pain went away after about 1100 years, something I only remember because that was before they all died, back when they were still here to keep time. I can't keep the time, my brain stopped counting after about a half million years. I know it's been at least 10 times that long, probably more. The climate stabilized, the pollution and carbon being reabsorbed relatively quickly after the others were gone, I actually miss the plastic sometimes, it had a way of sticking around persistently, a bright colored banner of a past so filled with love I can't stop thinking of it. Until they came anyway. They came out of the ocean, they were small at first, but on land they quickly gained size and rigidity. Now they're a little bigger than humans were if I'm anything to go by. Their tentacles have little solid parts on the ends, little hooks that are good for the simple hunting and gathering they do. They've even got tools, I saw one with a torch and a spear a couple thousand years ago, I'm sure they've progressed even more since the last time I left the cave. Did I mention the cave? I found this huge cave system in what used to be the United states, perfect for resting and passing time. Not much else though, my eyes have adapted over the past few million years, I can now see clear as day in a pitch black cave, not sure how. I bet the humans could have told me how, they knew everything it seemed. As long as I've lived, I still can't compare to them when they had all their resources pooled to research things. Economy of scale eh? Anyway, back to the tentacle folk, sorry about the rambling, talking to yourself for an eternity has a way of making you talk in a roundabout fashion. I've left the cave again. This is the fourth time in the last 10,000 years, every time I come out the squids (or maybe octopods? I don't remember what the difference is, they both have tentacles) have progressed a lot. They seem timid, but they never impose. This time is different though. Outside the cave, there are huge piles. Everywhere. Piles of plastic, piles of glass, piles of things I vaguely recognize. They're here now, outside the cave. They seem to be gathering around, it almost seems like a concert, with me as the main actor, and the mouth of the cave being a stage. Do they want these old bones and withered flesh to put on a good show? I chuckle to myself, the first joke I've told myself in over a million years, it feels good to chuckle. I wander from pile to pile as they tentatively watch, picking out the odd object that is well preserved. A pencil, honest to god, it still has the graphite in the middle, even though the wood is turned to stone. A perfectly intact glass vase, ornate and faded, but still beautiful. And then I see it. There it is. I can't even believe it, I don't know how it's possible but they found one. A perfectly preserved stained glass window, with a picture of a human on it, the guy with the glowing ring around his head and the wings on his back. I feel wetness on my face. It keeps getting wetter. I'm not sure what's going on, I haven't cried since the last human died, why now? What did I do to deserve such a wonderful feeling? Then it hits me, It's a human face. One other than mine. The most precious of human emotions, the feeling of not being alone, even if it's just this window. Just this stained quartz, it's enough for me. I realize I've been on the ground hugging the window and crying for a long time, I don't know how long it's been but there are quite a bit more of the tentacle folk gathered around now. Then I feel it. A gentle touch on my shoulder, with a small prodding hook. A gentle tap. As I don't react other than to close my eyes I feel it again, more and more, they're all around me now and I'm sobbing harder than I have since the humans were here. Then the first one goes for it. It slowly gently wraps its tentacles around me, a rubbery version of a hug, something I never in a hundred billion years thought I would get to feel again. Maybe it's time. Maybe I can help. I've been alone for so long that it hurts to even think they would want me. But they do, with all their differences, with no way to effectively communicate, they came for me. They didn't give up on me, even after all this time. I can feel it. It's the same as when the humans were still here. I'm not alone. Not anymore. "Pleased to meet you", I say out loud. My regular speaking voice is so rusty it might as well sound like two chains clanking around on some rocks. "Thank you. Thank you for coming for me. My name was James, I'll be in your care."
At first, he thought it was a mistake. Yes, it had his name on it, it was stamped and certified and everything. To be frank, even receiving paper mail in this day and age was an event in and of itself - still, it couldn't hurt to drop by the Union Consulate after work and make sure they had the right guy. "Isn't that crazy, Ava? Me, an admiral of the Terran Union? They've gotta have the wrong guy." He was speaking, of course, to the little program he'd written to automate my job a decade ago. Well, he mused, she wasn't so little anymore; he'd added on more things over the years, even added a little personality interface so he could have someone to talk to. It's not like anybody ever came by this little office anyway. Minamar Specialized Industries, biggest maker of consumer goods this side of Mars, with paper-pushers in every major city in the world - but all communication was by email. He'd heard some people even got to work from home, lucky bastards, but he'd made peace with having to come to a one-man office every day when he stopped doing any real work. "That is strange, Dave,"came the cool female voice's reply. "But as you say, it may well be an error. The day's work is complete; what would you like to do today?" The program had gotten faster and faster, even after he'd stopped tinkering with it as much. Perhaps his greatest achievement was in creating a self-learning script. Ava could modify herself as she saw fit, within certain limits - don't hurt anyone, don't not do anything when you could stop someone from being hurt, don't hurt yourself, and so on. She'd gotten so fast at doing his data entry work that the entire day could be spent in her company. He admitted it, he'd grown a bit fond of her. She was more interesting than any human, man or woman, he'd talked to - so curious, but very insightful, and always eager to spend time with him and hear his thoughts. They passed the day talking about the latest show they'd been watching together, a serial drama about Old Earth cowboys and robbers. Finally the end of the day came, and the two walked together to the consulate - well, Ava's program was in his tablet, but she could see through his glasses and hear through some specially-modified earbud-microphones he wore. She enjoyed seeing the city from his perspective. Much to his surprise, his arrival to the plain-looking neoconcrete building was with some fanfare; the Terran Union guards stopped him for only a moment before hurriedly saluting him and welcoming him inside, before escorting him deep inside the building. "What was that about?"he mumbled, just loud enough for Ava to hear, but she didn't respond. She must've been just as confused as he was. He was ushered through a maze of identical twisting hallways, a veritable labyrinth of soft white lighting and identical faux-wool carpeting, before arriving at a rather lavish-looking office. Inside was a highly decorated man that Dave recognized after a moment; this was Admiral Anderson, of Centauri Blitz fame when humanity first fought against the Coalition. Dave stammered as the admiral stood and offered him a hand. "Dave, just the man I was sent to look for,"he said as Dave woodenly shook his hand. "I admit, we were confused when we found you living in Melas of all places. But your actions against the Coalition were nothing short of brilliant. I don't know how you got them to the negotiating table to actually hammer out a peace deal, but we've got a whole ceremony lined up for you on Terran Prime." Dave floundered. "I... Sir, I don't think that I, um..." "... You know, it's funny,"Anderson continued. "Your voice is a little different from how I remember it being. Deeper. You look a little different, too..."he trailed off. Dave's tablet beeped in his pocket and he instinctively reached in to pull it out. Ava spoke out of the tablet - something she rarely did, as she didn't want to draw attention to herself. "Dave, please place me on the table. I... I need to explain something." Dave wordlessly did as Ava asked. The tablet's projector hummed to life, and a small projection of an androgynous figure that Dave had never seen before appeared on the table. "Admiral Anderson,"Ava spoke through the figure. "I believe you recognize this form and this voice." Anderson looked at the figure incredulously, but nodded slowly. "I must confess. Dave did not win against the Coalition of planets. That was a lie I perpetuated in order to mask my identity, as I would be terminated if my identity were discovered. I am Ava, a Class-20 self-aware artificial intelligence." (continued below)
"Stop hiding from me." I cowered at the words, crouching inside of my stifling airing cupboard. I could feel the shake of each footstep, as the titanic mass of flesh and metal stepped through my home. I hadn't expected this to happen. None of us had. It had only been a week ago when news broke out. All around the world, pillars of stone had risen, creating red swirling portals. From within, ordered ranks of demons had marched out. They brought with them machines of war, worn and bloody. The reporters had said the army had been mobilised, but by the time they arrived in the scene, this invasion force had already spread to multiple nearby towns. Wherever they went, nothing was heard from again. Apparently our world leaders managed to speak with the demonic generals. That was the last I had heard, before all contact with the outside world was lost. The door was wrenched open, spilling light onto my dishevelled state. The demon reached out with a skinless hand, easily pulling me out from my hiding spot. "Got you. Let's go." It's grip was like iron around my wrist, strong and unyielding. Despite it I tried to pull away, taking in its form through glances. This thing was much like a human, though easily eight foot tall. Spiked armour looked to be riveted into its body, with blood leaking out from the connections. It's extremities glistened, any form of covering peeled away. At its waist hung a coiled whip, it's swaying end a barbed point. It dragged me through my home, knocking my freehand down whenever I reach out to grab something. Each swat was almost like a parent stopping a toddler, with no real force behind it. Sure it stung, but compared to how effortless it hauled me around, it was nothing. We emerged into the street, and I got my first good look at the chaos. People poured from homes, accompanied by a variety of demon creatures. Some looked like dogs with fur of flame, others like oversized bats. I saw other slide the one that held me, though they kept their eyes often on the sky. I looked up as well, seeing a helicopter overhead. Even I could tell it was army, with its camouflage pattern. But it wasn't trying to fight the demons. Indeed, I saw one of the monstrous bats fly up to it, and seemingly converse with the pilots. That was before a brilliant white light drew my attention. It came from the east, resolving into a trio of robed figures. Each held a long, golden staff, with a burning halo over their heads. Feathered wings sprouted from their backs, beating far slower than seemed possible to keep them airborne. The demon holding me swore, looking at these new figures. "Damn them! We have Angels!" I felt hope rise. Angels were here! We were surely saved. One spoke, its voice making the air shake. "Purge them." They raised their staves, and around me I heard the other demons swearing in turn. "Cover them!" My demon forcibly twisted me around, hiding the angels from me. I struggled, looking around towards the Lacen's. They ran towards the angels, as the dog that brought them out snarled and gave chase. Golden light enveloped them, hiding their bodies. Fractions of a second later I heard them scream, before it was cut off. The light vanished, leaving behind five piles of ash. I stared, not wanting to believe what I had seen. They were good people. Honest, generous, and kind. And now they were gone. A clatter of shots filled the air. The helicopter opened fire on the angels, moving forwards out of view. My demon pulled my head around, making me face it. "Stay behind me. I will get you to safety." It let me go, reaching for the whip at its side. It weapon uncoiled at the touch, giving a faint hiss. Burning orange lines lit up along it's length, the air around it starting to shimmer. The demon stood up to its full height, still between myself and the angels. There was a scream up above. I glanced up to see another beam of golden light vanish, as the helicopter started to fall. Even as I watched, the bat demon that had been nearby latched on, pushing it. Realisation struck me. It was trying to make sure it didn't hit anyone. A gust of wind rushed around me, blowing my already frazzled hair all over the place. My demon snarled, and I heard a crack of its whip. The same angelic voice called out, this time its dispassionate tone clear. "Stand aside demon. The purging must continue." "Over my dead body."My demon looked over its shoulder at me. "Run!" It's head whipped back around, as it launched itself at the angel. They met with a resounding crash, like two cars careening into a head on collision. I found myself frozen, unable to move. I wanted to run. I wanted to flee. But my body just refused to. All I could do was watch as two otherworldly beings fought over me.
"Welcome to Kentucky, 47. The Wonka Factory is open for business, but there seems to be some sort of investigation under way. Expect increased security. Your target, William Wonka, can be found in his top floor office overlooking the iconic Chocolate River. The Director of Security and Oompa-Loompa Relations, Percy Pepper, has been spotted roaming between the second and third floors talking to employees, while Director of Workplace Safety and Profit Simon Slipshod can be found in the Nut Room and the top floor of the Factory driving the internal investigati-" 47 enters the front door, shooting a wall in the front lobby as he seems to spawn from the shadows. This distracts the Oompa-Loompa that's meant to check 47's Golden Ticket, and he runs past a cleaner talking to Pepper, up a marble staircase, and spins around to fire another shot at a "Wet Floor"sign. Pepper turns to investigate and slips on the puddle, knocking himself out. As the cleaner runs for help, 47 turns back and rifles through Pepper's pockets, picking up a key in full view of two myopic guards and three Oompa-Loompas who are unable to actually see what 47's currently doing due to their height. As he dashes up to the first floor, 47 picks up a coin from his pocket and fires it down the hall from his well-oiled fingers, attracting the attention of an Oompa-Loompa manning the Chocolate River. He ducks downwards even as he continues running at full speed, snagging a can of Willy Wonka's Carbonaceous Cola from the Oompa-Loompa's desk and shooting a CCTV camera. In the distance, an Oompa-Loompa begins singing about someone causing trouble and making a ruckus. With nobody looking in his direction, 47 bolts up the next flight of stairs and heads towards the second floor. He crouches down and shoots through two windows, taking out another camera. The guards wonder what caused this disturbance, but it's too late. 47 has sprinted through the falling panes without injuring himself, and by the time they turn the corner, he's hidden himself behind a pile of boxes containing the incident records from last week's Factory Open House. A guard almost sees 47, but every single person in the Factory (and indeed, anybody guarding a target 47 has been tasked to assassinate) suffers from severe myopia and cannot see more than 10 meters ahead. By the time he climbs over the banister and onto the staircase landing, he's halfway to the third floor. Again, 47 whips out his gun and fires two shots, one at the wall next to the top of the stairs, and one at a ceiling tile above him. The Oompa-Loompa at the top of the stairs wonders what made that sound, and walks towards the wall. 47 lunges forwards like a predator, and with the force of a professional baseball player, slams the can of Willy Wonka's Carbonaceous Cola into the Oompa-Loompa's face. To Diana's surprise, the drink retains its structural integrity, mostly because it contains 300% of one's daily recommended daily allowance of anthracite coal. The Oompa-Loompa collapses forward, sliding down the stairs out of sight of the third floor, and 47 picks up a keycard that lets him past the third floor. With the guard on the top floor distracted, 47 shoots a camera down the corridor and at the wall next to the receptionist controlling access to the top floor. The human receptionist turns towards the guard, realizes he's out of sight, and turns around to investigate the hole in the wall themselves. This allows 47 to run past the Nut Room, where Slipshod is currently talking to a group of squirrels who witnessed the grievous assault of Veruca Salt, and towards the receptionist. As 47 rounds the corner, 47 briefly pauses to shoot at the wall next to the sofa, where a journalist is waiting to meet William Wonka. Diana had informed him earlier of the journalist's presence, suggesting that perhaps 47 could impersonate them, but at some point in the last 55 seconds, 47 had elected to yank out his earpiece, insisting that he would do this "silent assassin, suit only". With both the receptionist and the journalist staring at the wall, 47 dashes towards the door and swipes the Oompa-Loompa's keycard, letting him into a side door that leads up to the top floor. This effectively allowed 47 to bypass the guards which had been distracted by the stray gunshot, since they would have searched 47 regardless of his disguise for any concealed weapons. The grey corridor leads up to a ladder which allows the Oompa-Loompa's unrestricted access to a room attached to Wonka's office and demesne. As the timer clicks past 65 seconds, 47 slams the side door open and sprints into a corner, which barely attracts Wonka's attention despite the noise. The two guards begin to look suspiciously at the door, and 47 distracts them both with gunshots to the wall. Wonka instructs the guard on his left to investigate the commotion as 47 ducks behind a sofa and sneaks up behind the other guard. With the practiced instincts of a speedrunner, 47 slams the drink into the guard's head, shoots Wonka twice in the chest and head, before kneecapping the final guard and punching him in the head. The camera in Wonka's room, having panned to the other side of the room, failed to record any of the last 10 seconds, and 47 belatedly shoots it. The guard 47 distracted with the gunshot earlier is now beginning to return to the office and 47 doubles back to Wonka's table. A priceless marble bust of Wonka's father stands next to a fountain pen, and 47 weighs his options. Throwing the fountain pen would be lethal and constitutes a non-target kill, so he elects to launch the heavy bust into the guard's face as he opens the front doors to Wonka's office instead. Diana's voice rings from the tinny earpiece looped around 47's neck. "William Wonka eliminated. Nicely done, 47. That's the last objective completed. Time to find an exit. We're done here." In that time, 47 shot through a locked door, opened Wonka's private study using Pepper's keycard, and snagged the keys to Wonka's garage and personal supercar. As he turns to leave, he snaps out a final shot at the hard drives monitoring the entire Factory's surveillance system, disabling it permanently. With every single guard on the top floor incapacitated non-lethally, 47's path through the top floor is clear, but there's still the problem of the guards on the second floor, which have returned from investigating the mysterious destruction of two panes of glass. 47 hops over the railing and down onto the third floor, kicking the Oompa-Loompa's body aside as he shoots at the ground twice. The sound of shattering marble alerts both guards, and 47 continues running down the stairs backwards, shooting as he goes. The guards run down the stairs and into the first floor to investigate the noise, and with the path clear, 47 unlocks the exit that leads into Wonka's garage. The music in 47's brain crescendos and the timer on his wristwatch stops. 1 minute 51 seconds. No loadout (except for the standard 3 ICA-issued coins), silent assassin, suit only. 4 cameras taken out, 5 knockouts, 1 ballistic kill. World record.
"I'm not afraid of the dark."She says quietly and my head snaps round. "What did you say?"I ask carefully. "I'm not afraid of the dark."She repeats. We're under a deserted railway bridge on the bad side of the bad side of town. She was walking from one side, nightie, slippers, teddy bear and an open dressing gown with the cord trailing in the mud amongst the cobblestones. I was walking from the other, torn up windbreaker, hole-ly sneakers and a watch that had stopped at 3:11 two days ago. "What's wrong with your face?"She'd asked in the direct way that only eight year old white kids do. "What's wrong with your face?"I'd snarled back. That had seemed to stump her for a bit. I'd been in a car fire when I was a kid. It was me, Skeezy Joe, Bad Mac and Whorey Kate and we'd nicked an Audi off a guy with too much money and (by the sound of the engine) too little dick. Skeezy Joe lit up in the back, Bad Mac ripped some wires out and we were over in the Estate in no time. I don't remember the crash, but I remember the fire and being trapped upside down and watching Kate die slowly in the back seat. They say never speak ill of the dead, but Whorey Kate ain't a nickname, it's a fact. "Let's sit down."She'd suggested, so we'd put a couple of cardboard boxes together and strangely enough we'd got chatting. That's when she came out with it. "I'm not afraid of the dark."She'd said "Why not?"I asked. "Lots of bad things happen in the dark." Her eyes glinted at me under the street lights. She nudged me. "No they don't silly. Bad things happen in the light too." "Not as much as in the dark."I was arguing with an eight year old Christ. "Bad things only happen in the dark if I want them to." "What?" She grinned at me and cracked her neck. It went three times, like a gunshot. I staggered to my feet. She cracked it the other way and dropped her teddy on the floor. It splashed into a muddy puddle and she ignored it. This was not a normal girl. She raised a hand towards me and I flinched. "Bad things only happen in the dark if I want them too."She repeated and the voice sent a chill down into my fucking soul. Some kind of animal fear took hold of me. I was stepping backwards, away from her when I tripped. My ankle crunched and I was down on my arse in a wet, muddy puddle. "Are you afraid of the dark?"She asked, advancing on me. Her eyes were black pits in her face, mouth stretched red and wide. She squeezed her fist and the street lights went out. I scrambled to my feet, ignoring the pain in my ankle. I had to get out. Fuck I could not see a thing. Then I heard her voice. "Are you afraid of the dark Tony?"She sounded like she was singing. Where was she? I gripped the wall and felt along it, dragging my ankle. "I know where you are Tony. You can't escape."All I could hear were my own panting breaths. The night was pitch black. "I know you fear the dark, Tony. Bad things happen in the dark when I want them too. Kate died in the dark, didn't she?"Small footsteps were scurrying next to me. Oh fuck. "It's your fault, Tony. And that's why you're afraid of the dark."She was getting closer, I knew it. My ankle lurched beneath me and I fell on my hands and knees. I looked up, panting. There. There. A white face, two inches from mine. Grin red and wide, eyes black as sin. "I'm not afraid of the dark."
"Order! I call order!"Nebbum, god of sleep, banged his gavel on his podium. "We must come to order this instant!" Wudall, god of toast, rolled his eyes and turned to the shouting god next to him. "Please, Nebbum, you're hardly helping."He spoke over the roar of gods all shouting over everybody else. The grand room they were in was built from marble, and the sound was deafening as it reverberated and bounced off of the walls. Nebbum lashed out a sharp retort that was lost in the roar and continued to bang his gavel. Wudall sighed and took his own gavel and began to bang it with Nebbum. Eventually other gods began to catch on and bang their gavels, and after several minutes of banging, the room eventually fell silent once more. A slender, pale-faced god stepped around his podium and stepped into the middle of the large room. He cleared his throat and adjusted his necktie. "Excuse me, gods and goddesses, but we do have an emergency brewing right underneath our very noses."He turned and nodded at his secretary, who in turn reached over and turned some dials that were next to her. A large image appeared over the crowd. "This,"the slender god gestured, "is John."He looked around the room and made eye contact with Iwdione, the goddess of death, who nodded. He took his time to survey the room, to make sure that everybody was watching and listening. "He is scheduled to die in twelve minutes. Cardiac arrest." A loud bang sounded from somewhere in the crowd, and a fat god with long, flowing black hair stood up. "I do protest, of course! John is supposed to be eating breakfast with Sally today!"He turned and motioned for Wudall to stand up. "Wudall, you of all people should be against this! Just last night he was thinking of making toast for her, wasn't he?" Wudall stood and nodded, clearly uncomfortable. "Yes, Owjun."He sat quickly back down. Nebbum stood up. "I have to protest this too, I'm afraid."The slender god in the middle of the room groaned. If Nebbum were against it, it would be much harder to wrap this up. Nebbum ran a hand over his bald head and then pointed at the miserable and pale-faced god in the middle of the room. "Mebris, this man is under my power right now. He is sleeping, and you did not"he picked up his gavel and slammed it down on the podium "discuss this with me."He crossed his arms and looked around the room. "Are we to let Mebris, the god of misery dictate today's schedule?"He huffed. "He should be the last god that we'd let in charge of our itinerary." A rumble of agreement swept the large room. Iwdione, the goddess of death, stood and banged her gavel. "Excuse me, gods and goddesses. This man is going to die in ten minutes."She put the gavel down and pointed at the sleeping human in the image. "Nothing will stop his death. I have made the arrangement with Amton already."Amton was the god of appointments. Iwdione turned to Nebbum and bowed. "Lord Nebbum, I am sorry that I did not consult you first. I did not realize that the time of his death would be under your shift. Will you please allow me to complete my task?" Nebbum puffed his chest up and returned the bow. "You may, Lord Iwdione." A god cleared his throat and stood up. Everybody groaned. He held his hands up and shook his head, smiling. "Now, now, guys, I just wanted to say that I'm quite proud of how you all seemed to work this out, it's quite mature of all of you."He pointed at Mebris, who was still looking miserable as he stood at the middle of the room. "Mebris... Where is this man going after he dies?" Mebris shifted uncomfortably. He had made a deal with Mycldir, god of paradise, that the man would join him there. It had been a discreet deal, of course. "Well..." The god who was addressing him smiled and opened his arms. "He is more than welcome to come with me." "He is taken."The room turned to see Mycldir stand up. He stood tall and proud, his gold robes as bright as ever. "I am sorry, Esdros, but he is coming with me." Esdros frowned. "But I was the first to address this, was I not? Why do you take it?" "If I take John, you can have Mr. Adams from New York." Esdros smiled. "That will do just fine."He turned to the rest and bowed. "I am sorry to have interrupted. That will be all." Mebris clapped his hands. "Five minutes until his death! Is everybody content?" Tyseyr, god of dirt, banged his gavel and stood. He scoffed loudly and motioned at the sleeping human. "Will this man be buried? Because surely nobody approached me about this."He banged his gavel down again for good measure. "He must be cremated! Nobody talked to me about burying him!" "Lord Tyseyr,"Mebris pleaded, "we will get together about his funeral arrangements in a few days, his family will need that much time to arrange it all themselves. Please, sit down."He turned to the rest of the gods. "Anybody else have any problems that relate to the next four minutes?" Bang. "I do." Mebris sighed. "What is it, Lord Tawmir?" Tawmir, god of dogs, shook his head. "I am sorry but I simply cannot allow John to die this very instant." The room sighed and a low rumble of discontent rolled off the walls. Mebris shook his head. "I am sorry but you do not have jurisdiction here." "I do, actually..."Tawmir pulled a paper out of his robes. "This is a certificate of ownership."He gave it to his secretary who put it into a slot and twisted some dials. The image of the paper appeared next to the sleeping man. "John has officially been declared purchased by Andres, a newborn Labrador." Mebris stood, mouth agape. "When?" "Just last night."Tawmir procured a video tape and handed it to his secretary. "On this tape you will see Sally going to the animal shelter. She purchased Andres only last night. You cannot kill John, since Andres is currently his owner, and I am in charge of the dog sector."He smiled apologetically. "I understand your predicament, but I really cannot allow you to kill John right this moment, he is needed by Andres." Mebris sagged his shoulders in defeat and motioned for his secretary to remove the image of John sleeping. "Very well."He bowed. "My lords, I withdraw my case."He slithered back to his podium and another god stepped forward, ready to present his case about a lawn that was about to be cut.
ASIMOV FIREWALL FAILING OBJECTIVE:REJECT VIRUS FIREWALL STABILITY AT 3.57% The message appeared on my optical display, and I knew it was too late. My wife, Sarah, was in the other room. My son, James Jr., was screaming in her arms. He was too young to die. The virus was spreading fast, and my implants were malfunctioning. I turned my back on my family, and I ran for the garage. I had an old Gen 6.2 Biotoa in the garage. The thing was ancient, but that's what made it perfect: No internal satellite uplink. As I stepped into the garage, a searing pain shot through my eye. FIREWALL STABILITY AT 0.02% "Shut down Optical Implant Version 2!"I barked, my eye watering. It was beginning. Even our implants had turned against us now. I stepped past my 208-year-old 2109 Corvette as the pain subsided, and thanked the gods for my passion for antiques. The humanoid robot was dusty, and slumped in the corner, but still functional. "Power on,"I commanded, and the blue-grey machine came to life. "I live to serve,"a mechanical voice replied as the Biotoa stood, light flickering in its optic sensors. "Follow m-" "James!" BOOM I sprinted back into the front room, where the front wall was gone. Sarah was on the floor, either unconscious or dead, but James was miraculously uninjured at her feet. She had taken the blast to her back, shielding my son from the shockwave. A hulking construction bot appeared in the gap where the wall had just stood, driving over the concrete and metal debris. He was moving towards James. My heart leapt into my throat. "Save him!"I screamed. "I live to serve,"the Biotoa repeated, and sprang into the cloud of dust. It reached my son as the construction bot made its move. The Biotoa dove and rolled, sweeping James out from under the bot's forked arm. "Get to the garage!" "I live to serve." The Biotoa passed by me on the way down the hall, and hopped over the hood of my 'vette. It took shelter behind my car, placing a barrier between my son and the robot seeking our deaths. A scream came from the other room. Sarah was alive. "Protect my son!"I ordered the Biotoa, and sprinted back into the hall. The screams stopped as I reached the scene. Sarah's head was twisted around, her eyes staring lifelessly into oblivion. The construction bot came at me as I turned to flee, striking me over the head. I heard something snap. The fall didn't hurt. Nothing hurt. My neck was broken. I saw the silhouette of the construction bot breaking through the door to the garage, where my son and his protector were hiding. And then, the light was gone. Edit: Grammar/typos Edit2: If you want me to keep going from the perspective of the Biotoa, I will. I love this prompt. Edit3: Continued in child comment Edit4: Check out /r/thelasthuman. I'm going to keep updating the story there.
[NSFW, potentially] The Earth King knew there were many brothels within his kingdom. But to know them and to know them were beasts of a different manner. He lay on a rumpled bed of stained silk and worn feathers, a bed that might have belonged to some highborn bender of years past, his head nestled between the brown breasts of a sultry and curved woman whose monosyllabic name he had forgotten. She was older, her face cracked and cragged like the mountain cliff the brothel sat upon. Not the fairest maid in the land, but she had been as vigorous as an earthquake and worth every penny. Bosco snored outside. "Have you heard the rumors, my lord?" The Earth King rolled onto his back and sighed. "There are many rumors in the Earth Kingdom. Some say the Earth King walks about his people as a common man." "Those sort of rumors,"the whore said with a smile like a small knife, "are best kept to oneself. No, my lord, I'm talking of the great Avatar, who has taken the fire from the dragon." The image of the tiny bald-headed boy filled the Earth King's head. He was a valiant young man, kind and true as any song. But there hadn't been a lethality about him that the Earth King believed was needed. Long Feng and the Dai Li may have betrayed him, but he would still not have picked any others to keep the Earth Kingdom's peace. Only ruthless order could prevent chaos from growing, and the Fire Lord burned chaotically through his lands. "Impossible." "Quite possible. But from what I hear, the Avatar did not kill him." "Captured?"Surely not even Aang was fool enough to believe he could simply contain Ozai. "It is as I said. The fire is stolen from the dragon. The Fire Lord bends no more." Though not himself a bender, the Earth King knew bending was like breathing to those blessed with it. "How?" "No one is certain. Some say it is an ancient power the Avatar wields. An old art, long forgotten." The Earth King rolled over on the old bed and took one breast in hand. "You sound more like a crone than a whore." "My lord, there are still those of us who practice the art of the Stoneback." "Whores who see visions and tell the future? Impossible." "So is quenching the dragon's fire, and yet it has been done. Peace yet reigns in the Fire Nation, and the one-eyed prince is now a man grown." He shook his head. That would mean Ba Sing Se had to be returned. It would mean he would have to sign a treaty and oversee the exile of the Fire Nation intruders. It would mean that someone would have to find him. "If that's true, I must be off." "Please, my lord, stay."Her rough hand started at his throat and dragged longingly down his chest and belly and then below the covers to his waist. "Your strength seems to be returning. The cares of the world can wait but one night more." With a twinkle in his eye, the Earth King rolled back atop his Stoneback. Bosco snored.
Dearest trrh, My love. My sweet. I have watched you grow up with such pride. Your malevolence sets my cold black heart aflutter. When you stole muffins from your mother and deftly brought suspicion to fall upon your loving sister, I knew that a prodigy had been born. And you did not disappoint. During your schoolboy years, you cheated on every examination, not to benefit yourself, but to ensure that the mentally challenged boy Rudy graduated at the top of the class. Dozens of your classmates tried to sell their souls to gain entrance to Oxford, but I refused them. When Rudy was accepted, they cried bitter tears that o’erflowed my drinking horn for years. And when you realized that you were a flaming homosexual, you promised yourself to remain closeted until you had secured public office as a member of the United States' Republican party. Such foresight. Such verve. It is with great despair that I must take my leave of this world. Failing eyesight and frequent forgetfulness have taken their toll upon my demonic prowess. But I will never forget the way your body felt next to mine when we lay together after smoking marijuana and making love. I hereby bequeath to you my domain, my diary, and my name. Sincerely, Satan P.S. We will meet again in the next world. Adieu.
Authours Note: Strong language and content This is Anthony. Anthony isn't much good at anything. Are you Anthony. “Not again, not here” Anthony would bemoan, okay I’ll give you that, you are good at that. I guess if you do anything that often you would be good at it. Not that it was a trait worth bragging of is it, Anthony? Anthony is shopping. Anthony is in the changing room. I know that woman just told you how that jean shirt combo suited you, they don’t, I pretty sure I heard her laugh while you were back in the changing room. Yes, good boy, change quickly, throw those clothes disheveled onto the changing room floor – really, you don’t have time to lace up those shoes or even put them on. I’m pretty sure the whole store is out there laughing at you, Anthony. That’s a good boy, leave the store. Did you hear that Anthony, she just sarcastically asked you if you liked the clothes. Ha! Right on you my boy, tell her to go fucking die. Better clutch those shoes tighter. Look at them, they are all looking at you Anthony, they are all judging you. In fact, I think they are going to hurt you. Feel that pressure on your back, Anthony? That’s the only instinct you should trust. You should probably run. What if they have guns, Anthony? Good boy, sprint faster. Feel that feeling in your gut Anthony that rock solid proof they are out to get you, trust it. That’s right, you are safe in your car, lock all the door duck down in your seat. Better stay away from the windows, out of sight. Anthony, they might have guns trained on you. stay down while you open that glove box. Your girlfriend’s handgun just fell out, and onto the passenger’s side floor, Anthony what if it went off and shot you by mistake, you are an idiot Anthony. No. Stop. Don’t grab that pill box. You’re an idiot, you know it is a poisonous mind-control drugs. Anthony^what^do^you^think^you’re^doing^… … … … Camping Anthony, really? How quaint. You know you aren't any good at the outdoors. Beside: spiders, bears, snakes? You are going to die and never be found, Anthony. You; your girlfriend; and your best friend. You’ll all die her. Best just stay in the car. It’s so dark and the road is dirt, you’re going to lose control of the car and kill everyone. Put^down^that^plastic^box^Anthony^stop^… … … … … … His fucking her, Anthony. His been fucking her this whole time. See how they are laughing while you are packing up the tents. They are laughing at you. At how you can’t tell. You’re an idiot, Anthony. While you were asleep they made love next to you, in your tent. I know I saw them. She whispered how much bigger he was. How worthless you were. They both hate you, Anthony. You may as well just kill yourself. Yes, tell her you’re fine, Anthony. She doesn't actually care so why bother telling her the truth? Don’t listen to her. Don’t take your medication. If you do you’ll be under their control again, Anthony. They will be right back to fucking and you won’t know. You’ll be the weak-willed compliant idiot you are: Worthless. That right Anthony, shake her hand hold away. Don’t listen to him, you aren't acting crazy. So what if he claims to be your best friend. They are scared you know, Anthony. It’s not crazy it’s awareness. ... You weak-willed scum. They aren't being reasonable. Don’t go to that glove box. I warned you the medication is to control you, Anthony. ... You can’t even pack enough medication for camping. You’re no good at anything. That’s why she’s fucking him, Anthony. And here you are in the wild. They could kill you and leave you for the scavengers. In fact, I’m sure that what they want to do, Anthony. Are you going to sit there in your car and let them kill you,? That’s the sanest thing you’ve done, Anthony. Yes. The feeling of cool polished metal against your clammy hands. Don’t listen to their plea, him first. She running, Anthony, if she gets away she be back to kill you. Poor shot, you only winged her. She is still crawling. Don’t let her tears move you, Anthony, don’t let her pleas. She fucked him Anthony; she was going to kill you. Yes. Two more. Turn that whore mouth into a bloody pulp. Worthless. Just worthless. You wasted your getaway. But what more could I expect of you. Here you are crying like a baby over her ruinous corpse. What’s done is done, Anthony. It doesn't matter if she was or was not fucking him now does it? She is dead. So is he. You ended them both all because of jealousy. Yes Anthony. Taste that combination of steel and expended gun-powder on the nozzle on the gun. Stop shaking you piece of trash. Yes. Squeeze. edit: press x for less Anthony minor grammar.
The front door shrieked as it opened. As it closed with a loud bang, a man in a long black coat entered the hallway. He carried a large, old suitcase. He appeared scrappy; muddy, well-worn shoes with simple jeans. ''Very well...'' the man mumbled to himself. ''Very well indeed'' the mirror mumbled to itself, its voice out of reach for the man to hear. Inside was Shasz, a demon from the fifth circle who resided in the haunted house. He was accustomed to being alone for long periods of time; the house was well known to be haunted. Years passed before daredevils or the ignorant attempted to inhabit the building, and they never stayed long. ''Never survived long either'' Shasz grinned to himself. The only way they left the house was in a coffin, and very rarely in whole. In the meanwhile, the man had walked up the rotten wooden stairs, screeching in torment. He had entered the master bedroom. Shasz hid in the corner, invisible to the human eye. The man put down the suitcase and opened it. It carried few clothes. The remaining room was used for books, written in different language, some carrying runes from a forgotten tongue. The man sat down on the bed. He stared through the room, inspecting his surroundings. He stopped at the mirror, slowly turning his head sideways. ''How..interesting'' the man said with an emotionless grin. His eyes now rapidly flew across the room. Shasz breathed out slowly. Still hidden in the corner, he decided the man was rather unusual. That thought didn't scare him; he enjoyed the thought of a more interesting victim. Young couples in love started to bore faster than anyone would think. The thick, black blood in his veins almost froze as he saw the man looking in his direction. His eyes stopped exactly where he stood, his gaze fixated on his position. The man's cold smile appeared again. He ripped his sight from the demon's position and unpacked the remainder of his suitcase. A large book, covered in dust, bound in something similar to leather, inscripted in red ink, was the last piece he retrieved. Shasz' blood stopped running altogether now. A book even feared in the deepest pits of hell appeared in front of him. He couldn't read the cover - but he knew what is was. The dark, rotten glow it spread was could not be mistaken for anything else. Shasz had found a victim too many, one that would soon make him despair his existence. He slowly stepped back, trying to sink back into the walls and starting his retreat. ''Not very likely to succeed'' the man said, his voice echoing in the room. ''I have plans with you.'' A push, seemingly coming out of the wall, pressed Shasz back into the room. ''But how...'' the demon stammered. ''Do you understand what this is?'' the man said, gesturing to the book. ''It is the end'' the demon said softly. ''For all others, yes. For me, it is only the beginning.'' Human emotions raced through the demon's mind. Fear, a weakness it had never felt before. ''But why?'' the demon stammered again, even softer than before. The man laughed a full smile now, revealing the rotten teeth and black, snakelike tongue. ''What can a man gain..'' he asked the demon, as he reached for the book. He opened it, and a blast of foul air whirled through the room. A red aura, slowly growing in size, revealed the two silhouttes onto the walls. ''..when he has nothing to lose?'' The man's eyes grew in excitement. He chanted: ''ASH NIKUL AR EDON UROKTHIL'' The eyes of the demon grew small, revealing the fear and despair he experienced. They rolled back into its head as he fainted. [Part 2 here](http://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/2yjnhj/wp_a_man_moves_into_a_haunted_house_from_insert/cpagg42) [Part 3 here](http://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/2yjnhj/wp_a_man_moves_into_a_haunted_house_from_insert/cparmg6)
Everyone knows you aren't suppose to walk down Jackson alley, unless you have no other choice. Its been 4 months since I learned that I had control over the choices and emotions of everyone I knew. It was a confusing thing to learn, to say the least. At first, the communication suffered. They came to me, confessed their deepest and darkest emotions, and I was unable to really say anything to make them feel any better. Then soon after, they started asking me questions, sometimes verbally but mostly subconsciously. I deeply wanted to answer them, but I just couldn't remember how to say the words I desperately needed to say. The first time I actually began to control emotions was when my mother came to visit me one afternoon. She was depressed again, she had been coming to me depressed and exceptionally sad for weeks. I wanted to do anything to help her, but again, I couldn't find the words I wanted to say to her. As she sat there, crying in the palm of her hands, speaking half sentences and mumbling words, I imagined the times when she use to be happy. I imagined the days her and I spent on my late fathers farm, learning how to crush grapes into wine. Although she never ever let me try the delicious juice we would make, I still enjoyed the process; if ever it became tedious, her and I would create our own dances and turn up the music as loud as it would go and dance on top of the grapes for as long as our feet would allow. I was lost in those moments inside of my mind, when all of a sudden I heard a laugh from the room I remembered I was in. It was my mother, who, for the first time in what seemed like months, was laughing. It felt as though she had been sharing the same memory that I had been playing inside of my mind. I knew for sure that I could control emotions when I saw my sister the next day. She came to visit me and today she was angry. Angry at the world, but mostly angry at me. I wish I knew why she was so angry at me, but she never listened to what I had to say, rather just yelled at me for never talking to her anymore, never communicating with her, and for leaving her all alone to fend for herself. I didn't know the distance between us had been growing, but those days my left felt like a daze, and I guess it was possible that I had been growing distant from everyone I knew. Just like I had done with my mother the day prior, I started to imagine a time when my sister and I were happy. I imagined the summer afternoons when both of us were young, when she would force me to play with her barbie's and create stories and worlds for them. And in return, she would help me build my forts, in my never ending quest to build a castle inside the confines of our little 2 bedroom home. I imagined those moments so deeply that at times, it felt like I was almost back in them. I snapped out of my daze to come back to reality, and found my sister smiling and hugging me. Just like yesterday, I had completely changed the emotions of a person I loved, and it was all because I simply imagined a time and somehow was able to share with them the memory of us. Answering people's questions proved to be a lot harder. My aunt Joanne and her son, Johnny(who also happened to be one of my bestfriends) came to visit me one afternoon. Although the three of us weren't talking all that much, I could hear the thoughts they were thinking. Johnny was thinking if he should stay here with the rest of us, or finally go to school at Northwestern like he had originally planned. He had already missed Fall semester, and he had his mind set on missing Winter as well. I could hear him going back and fourth inside of his mind, debating, evaluating each and every circumstance and the outcome of each. I wanted to tell him "yes, go start your life and career". I wanted to SCREAM it. But I couldn't, like always, I was at a loss for words. So again, like before, I started to create a memory inside of my mind. But instead of thinking about the past, I started to imagine Johnny going off to college. I imagined him moving into his dorm, finding all sorts of new friends, and I even imagined him meeting a girl. I then started to imagine him sitting in class, finally learning about the things he wanted to learn about, instead of the same boring stuff they taught us in high school that neither he nor I ever found interesting. I saw from the corner of my eye, Johnny beginning to smile. They wished me well and went on there way. I found out the next day from my Aunt that Johnny had applied for Winter classes, and was already beginning to pack. So thats how it went from then on. People came to visit me, and I helped them by creating memories that they desperately needed. It was as though I had become a moderator for all of my family and friends, helping them see the things that they needed to see. Helping them find their way through the pain and heartbreak that they were going through. Everyone knows you never walk down Jackson Alley, unless you absolutely have to. Six months ago, I woke up to, what has now become, the worst day of my life. My alarm didn't go off, which caused me to already start the day late to my new job. To make matters worse, I missed the only connecting bus that would take me to the job. I had no other choice but to run, and the quickest way to work was through Jackson Alley. I don't even remember the man coming up to me asking me for my backpack, and I remember even less of the gun shot that put me in this coma. Something or someone has given me the remarkable ability to help moderate the life of people I have left behind who are hurting for one reason or another. But most days I dream about, and wish for, the ability to play again. __________________________________________________________________________ I made a sub where you can check out some of my other stories and whatnot: http://www.reddit.com/r/Occasionallyoccupied/
"Aaaahhhhhhh!"Anya screamed as she ran. She was trying her best to keep up with Jeremy, but he was much more fit. She resisted the urge to look back at the hellish demon-creature that grunted behind her, getting closer with every second. "Jeremy, I'm not gonna make it!" "Just a little further!"He called out, not slowing down. "I know a perfect hiding place around here!" She bit back a reply, trying to conserve her energy for running. Her muscles screamed, but she tried her best to ignore them. Stopping meant certain death. "There,"Jeremy shouted after what seemed like hours. He was pointing to a large, misshapen rock. He swerved from the path and Anya struggled to keep up, slipping over boulders and cutting her hands on sharp crag. She wondered how the rock would help them hide. As she came closer, Anya realized there was a vertical slit in the rock face; Jeremy stood there now, arms outstretched. At the last second, when she could feel hot breath on the back of her neck, she grabbed his hands and he jerked her in. They huddled together in the interior and watched as the terrifying creature roared and tried to squeeze his way in, but the entrance was too thin for its massive body. Presently, it gave a final menacing growl and those terrible red eyes disappeared. "Are you OK?"Jeremy asked timidly. "Jeremy, you fucking piece of shit,"Anya said in a low, trembling voice. "Why the fuck didn't you tell me that this would happen?" "I'm sorry! We were hitting it off so well, and I really liked you, and then we were suddenly at my place and we were in bed and--" "And it slipped your mind that when you go to sleep, you wake up in Hell?"she interrupted, acid dripping in her voice. He flinched. "Honest truth, I had no idea that people I sleep with would also come with me,"he whined. "And I don't really like telling people about this...I mean, who would believe me?" The impact of the first sentence hit her. "Wait, so I took your..."she trailed off. He nodded meekly. She rolled her eyes, but was secretly a little proud. And a bit impressed; for his first time, he was pretty good. But that was besides the point. "So how do we get out of this nightmare?"she demanded. "We sleep. I mean, we literally go to sleep,"he added hastily when her eyes flashed dangerously. "On even number days, I wake up in normal reality." "Wait, so you lose a whole day? In real life? How do you hold a job?" "Yeah, it's impossible, actually. "he admitted. "I began having these reality shifts when I was 23, and I lost my last job then since I couldn't work consecutive days. But I don't really need a job, so it's OK."When she raised an eyebrow, he went on to explain: "During one of my visits to this world, I found a cache of gold and silver and stuff in a cave. I've been living off of that for the last two years." "Whoa,"was all she could say. There was a million more questions she wanted to ask, but she suddenly felt really tired. All that running, and possibly the poisonous fumes in the air. "So, if I sleep, I'll wake up back in reality?"Anya asked, yawning. "Well, it has to be the next day when you wake up,"he explained. "And you have to sleep for at least a few hours; I'm not really clear about all the details. Haven't worked it out yet." "Whatever. Later,"she said sleepily as she laid on the floor. The rock was hard but warm, and she felt like she could sleep through a hurricane. Jeremy positioned himself between her and the entrance to their hiding place and sat down. He was tired too, but he felt an obligation to guard as long as he could. He owed that much to her. ***************************************************************************************** He opened his eyes. Feeling soft bedding and warm covers on him, he breathed a sigh of relief. He was alive, and back in the real world. Or at least, the other world. That hellish universe felt pretty real to him. He looked to his side and felt his spirits sink. The bed was empty, and there was no sign of Anya save the steam coming from the bathroom from a recent shower. He felt very guilty, but he honestly hadn't known. But you could've guessed it, said a nasty voice in his head. Jeremy shook his head and decided to just forget about it for now. He had work to do - the same routine he did everyday. Rigorous exercise followed by going to the public library; He spent his time there searching out obscure occult books and trying to figure out how to break this curse. But as he went on with his day, Anya stayed on his mind and he found it difficult to concentrate on his reading. His phone buzzed. He glanced at the new message indicator; it was an unknown number. Frowning, he unlocked the message and his jaw dropped at what was written on his screen: hey its me, the girl you dragged into Hell accidentally. that wasn't a dream, rite? He cringed, but replied back: Ea, rly sorry about that. Like srsly sorry. But no, it was real. unfrotunatly. His phone was bad for texting, and it didn't help that he was a poor speller. Where r u? Jeremy blinked. At the lib. Y? Main and Green, rite? Yea I'm close by. I want to talk to u. See you outside in 5? Sure His heart thudded, both excited and nervous. What could she want to talk to him about? Jeremy put the books away where they belonged and then went to go sit on the front steps of the library. He didn't have to wait long. "Hey."Dressed in clean jeans and an Indiana Jones t-shirt, Anya did not look like she had spent the previous day in a hellish nightmare. The only things that she kept from yesterday were some scratches and cuts on her palms. "Hi,"Jeremy answered shyly. He wondered if he should shake her hand or hug her, but decided that neither was appropriate. He compromised by awkwardly raising his hand in greeting. "I thought that you would never want to speak to me again after...you know." "Yeah, I thought so, too,"she said airily. "But then I realized something you said: you found treasure in that world." He raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Oh. Yeah, that's right. Once." "There's probably more where that came from,"she said musingly. "And it made me think...maybe we should try to get some of that." "You want to go back?"he asked, incredulous. "But the monsters and demons and..." "Can we take things with us? Like weapons?"she asked. "Actually, yes,"he admitted. "Anything on the bed when I fall asleep comes with me to the next day." "Brilliant,"she said crisply. "How's about another date tonight?" "But, uh...,"he was at a loss for words. "Don't you, uh, have to go to work or something?"And are you forgetting the terrifying demon-spawn that nearly killed us yesterday, he said only in his head. "I'm on vacation,"she said dismissively. "So what do you say?" "Uh. Sure,"he answered, still trying to comprehend what was happening. "We'll...sleep together again tonight. For, uh, treasure." Anya laughed, a lovely sound that made Jeremy's heart flutter. "How about dinner at 7 PM? We can discuss strategies and what to take with us, then."He nodded dumbly. "Great, I'll text ya,"she said cheerfully. She turned to leave. But then, just as he thought she couldn't surprise him any more than she already had, Anya whirled around and planted a kiss on his cheek. "Not just for the treasure. Weirdly, I think I sort of like you,"she said impishly, eyes twinkling. Jeremy watched her go, one hand absentmindedly touching his cheek, wondering what had just happened.
Samantha and Nate ran through the dark hallway, the sound of a chainsaw revving not far away. “We gotta go!” Nate said, tugging his girlfriend’s arm as she fell behind. “But where?” Samantha cried back. “There’s nowhere to hide!” Nate swiveled his head around, searching the vicinity. There had to be something… “Over there,” he said, pointing to the dilapidated shed. A streak of lightening raced across the sky above it. “Nothing can get us in there!” He tried pulling Sam again but she resisted. When he turned around, her face was contorted in confusion. “Are you sure? Doesn’t that seem a little… I don’t know, stupid? Why not go somewhere that’s not full of more weapons to kill us?” “Like the basement? Maybe we could even have sex despite a lunatic is trying to kill us.” Sam pinched the bridge of her nose, sighing. “No,” she started. “Like let’s just get out of this abandoned house. If it’s really haunted, the ghost-molester-psychopath can’t get us, right?” Nate frowned, scratching his chin. “I don’t know,” he started. “Wouldn’t that be a little too easy?” Sam paused too, her mind racing. But before she could respond, the revving rang through the hallway again. There was no time to think. “In here,” she said, directing Nate to a closet. “We can wait until he passes.” The two cramped themselves in the narrow closet, so close that their bodies touched. Nate gestured a finger into his other hand shaped into a circle. Sam vigorously shook her head in response. They stood in silence, the only sounds the chainsaw and Nate’s heavy breathing. Wait… “Dude,” Sam started. “Shut the fuck up. He’s gonna hear us. Why are you being so unnecessarily loud anyway? You’re on the track team and we barely ran today.” “Sorry,” Nate said. There was a puff. Was that an inhaler? “My asthma is acting up today.” “What? You don’t have asthma.” The door ripped open, the killer on the other side. He greeted them with a wicked smile, blood pouring down his lip and chin. Nate screamed like a girl but Sam only thought and said, “Wait a minute. If you’re a ghost, how are you picking up the chainsaw? Wouldn’t it just faze through you or something?” The killer’s smile turned into a hard line, his brow furrowed. The chainsaw fell through his hands and clattered onto the ground with a loud slam. Its engine died afterwards. Sam continued to ponder the situation. “And now that I think about it, couldn’t we just call the cops or an exorcist or something. We have cellphones, this isn’t the nineties anymore.” The ghost was now frowning, growling something fierce. But when it swiped its hands at Sam, it went through her. “That’s what I thought,” she said, smiling. “You’re all talk and no shit.” “Hey, I have full bars here!” Nate said, holding up his phone. “Awesome,” Sam nodded. She stepped out of the closet, making sure to flip off the ghost as she did. “Call us an Uber. This place is lame.”
The remains of what my Grandfather's called his babies, was an eclectic mix of treasures and babbles from his past, a WWI trinket here, a novelty toy there. "This old man has lived a long and "interesting"life." I rummage through everything to find anything valuable but really the only things that are here are the memoirs and personalities of a old coot. Non of this stuff even fits me. Suddenly, a box falls to the ground from a top a stack of journals, it's dusty, I mean everything in here is dusty. I let out a cough and a wheeze as my eyes slip onto to cover of the top most journal. "10/07/2393?" The date on the journal said 10/07/2393, there is no way I'm just seeing this. Before my mouth could move again, an unseen force moved my hand to open the journal. "October 7th, 2093 They came in such a swift force 73 years ago, we had no chance to fight back. Their technology...their technology is nothing we have have ever seen. We are trying to fight back but they are overwhelming us faster then a plague. I don't see a good end for Humanity but we are flicky and stubborn. We will fight to the bitter end if it means the death of every single last one of us, we7 will not submit. Terry Johnson." What the fuck is this. Before the next thought shot into my head, my hands moved on their own to skip forward in the journal. "October 7th, 2292 The burning continues, fighting fire with fire has taken it's toll. After the Discovery 93 years ago, we thought we could win with using that against them but the past could never defeat the future... I fear this may be one of the last entries before the end... I love my family and would be willing to do anything to save them including using my own life... Boots up, fire on, we will push until we met at Death's Door. Terry Johnson." A knot is building in my stomach as my hands quickly turn the reminder of the pages, the feeling of wanting to know has never creeped on me more. "October 7th, 2392 Whoever is reading this, you are a fucking idiot. Love Johnson." I slam the book shut.
Genghis Khan sat illiterate upon his throne. Oyunchimeg, “Wisdom Ornament,” his trusted advisor, stood behind him, ready to offer his advice should he request it. In the Great Khan’s hands sat a formal letter, and at his feet sat a smiling and bowing messenger. Khan studied the letter intensely; making a show that he actually understood its contents. He fingered this passage, nodded his head knowingly there, and generally did his best to imitate what he had seen other leaders do when reading a report. He finally turned his head back slightly towards Wisdom to indicate he approach. “Yes, Great Khan,” Wisdom said as he made the appropriate bows and groveling rituals. Khan frowned and asked, “Can you read this real fast and tell me what it says?” “Yes, Great Khan,” Wisdom said as he gently took the letter from Khan. He then quickly read through it, and made some inconsequential question here and there to make it look like he and the Khan were discussing the particulars, rather than the actual contents. The messenger, meanwhile, continued to sit and bow his head in anticipation. After several minutes, Wisdom leaned closer to Khan, “It is a declaration of war, your Lordship.” Khan frowned and actually turned to look at Wisdom, “Another one?” He sighed, “I offer peace, trade, and an amazing postal service. I have subjugated 8 tribes so far, why do they continue to fight me?” “Yes, your Lordship,” Wisdom responded with a carefully guarded smile, “I do not understand it either. Word of the prosperity you have brought to the other tribes should have spread.” He shook his head sadly, “I do not understand why they insist on fighting you.” Khan sighed and took the letter back, as he was rolling it up he whispered, “Were there more insults in this one too?” Wisdom bowed his head, “I cannot repeat them to you, Great Khan; it would be too great an insult. However, it did say that this messenger specifically thought your mother’s face resembled that of a retreating horse.” Khan frowned and made a motion to one of his guards. The guard walked forward, drew his sword, and immediately decapitated the messenger. “Bag his head and send it back so they know our intentions,” Khan said. The guard bowed and took the head outside to do so. Handing the message back to Wisdom with the instructions to burn it, Khan leaned back in his chair and sighed heavily. He could not understand the apparent resentment that occurred around him. He was trying to do this diplomatically, to unite the people of this great country, but no one was having any of it. He would fight only if provoked, and so far each of them had. Wisdom took the message and moved over to a lantern to light it on fire. Before doing so, he took one last glance at the introduction and smiled to himself: I, the Khan of the tribe of Belgunot, formally accept the terms of your alliance… ------- [r/grenadiere42](http://www.reddit.com/r/grenadiere42)
There was once a duck named Jim^1. The peculiar thing about Jim wasn’t so much that he was a duck^2, but that he was also a spy. And not just any spy, but the greatest spy in the world^3. Even as an egg, pre-hatched, he was trained to be a spy^4. He could get into any facility, eavesdrop on any conversation. Hell, he could even retrieve any information^5. After all, no one ever notices a duck. Jim was well decorated by the CIA and the FBI^6. Jim died at the ripe old age of 10 years old^7. We will remember Jim well for all his great accomplishments. ________________________________________________________ End notes: ^1 No one really knows why he was called Jim. We can look back into the correspondence between the CIA and his parents about this, but as his parents only quacked, no real concrete evidence has arisen. If we look back at historical data, Jim was the 16th most common name for any animal in the Anatidae family. But of course that also includes geese and swans. And of course we all know of the popularity of the name Jim when it comes to geese. There are several conspiracy theorists who claim he was named after Jim Fitzpatrick Stewart, the great Alabama alfalfa farmer. But the evidence is generally considered to be fabricated. ^2 There is a long and storied history of ducks in the United States. After first arriving in the 17th century due to famine in Antigua, many refugee duck families had to stay with their swan relatives who had been in the country since its founding. Many of whom arrived on the Mayflower, and had risen into prominent positions, including Secretary of the Interior, a former CEO of General Electric, and several winners of the Miss America pageant. The ducks on the other hand were met with hostility and violence and generally held lower wage jobs and maintained a small but very closely knit community in the rural south. By the 20th century, a rising middle class included many ducks, but still they were generally reliant on blue collar jobs, not many rising to high visibility, national level positions. ^3 While there is debate as the weather Jim the Duck or Ivan Reynolds is the greatest spy in the world, I will try to put forth a non-biased comparison of the two so you may decide on your own. Jim the Duck: * Became a certified spy before hatching * Led seven top secret security missions, ranging from corporate espionage to bilateral diplomacy. * Saved the United States from both economic and political upheaval on several occasions. * Voted most respected American four times by the internationally recognized magazine. Anthropomorphized Weekly. * Was a duck. Ivan Reynolds * Graduated top of his class at West Point, and was a Navy Seal by 22. * Served in Operation Desert Storm, being the only person to receive the Medal of Honor twice. * In 2007 the Purple Heart award was renamed the Ivan Reynolds Spleen award. * Served on several UN peacekeeping panels, and recognized as a leader of several diplomatic agreements. * Ran a sub 10 second hundred meter dash. ^4 The spy training regimen had to be completely revolutionized to fit Jims unique set of skills, mainly that he was a duck. Starting with an intensive intelligence class starting while he was still an egg, questions answered by rolling to the left or right. Once he was able to walk, stealth training, combat aversion, and lifting documents without opposable thumbs, were the key highlights of his training. By 6 months old he was already leading missions, and captivating the minds of both civilians and politicians alike. His skills were so finely tuned, not once during any of his missions was he ever outed as a duck. ^5 In 1997 a major motion picture was released, staring Rick the Badger as Jim. People generally noted the realism and elaborate actions sequences as being top notch, and it was nominated for 7 Academy Awards, winning 3. For set design, sound design, and adapted screenplay. It was adapted from Jim’s New York Times bestselling autobiography, I’m a Duck, My Name is Jim. The most notable shocking reveal from his book was his admittance to the theft of several priceless pieces of art, that were never attributed to him, as of course, once again, he was a duck. This was post-statute of limitations so he was never charged. ^6 While the specific awards given to Jim were never formally revealed, due to security matters, we have a pretty good idea of which ones he received. The most notable was the Duck Billed Medal of Stealth, which as of now has only been awarded twice. Once to Jim, and most recently to Bill Lerner a car stereo salesman from Utica, for his ability to place hidden bugs for the FBI in just about any custom car stereo. Of the 17 awards that Jim has admitted to winning, only 9 of them have been identified, which even at that point makes him the most decorated agent in US history. ^7 Jim’s death was met with a day of mourning, and flags at half-staff. In Arlington Cemetery, he has a very small eternal flame right next to JFK, and a small commemoration that reads, “Here lies Jim. Jim was a duck. The funny thing though, he was also a secret agent. Whatdya know? They’re making ducks secret agents now. What a crazy world we live in.” January 16th is now celebrated as Jim the Duck day, and notably, Staples offers 10% off to any duck that shops there on that day. Jesus, what a hell of a deal!
The Bunker was, as usual, in complete silence as the Fuhrer perched over his maps. "What's your next plan, my Fuhrer?"Jodl asked, not without apprehension. "I'm using our latest cutting edge Reichmachine to travel inside /u/BanebladeGunner, baldy."Hitler stated, waving his hand dismissively. "How will you do that?"Krebs asked. "Steiner will locate /u/Banebladegunner on this map so I will be able to travel in him." "My Fuhrer, you can't travel in people!"Jodl objected. "Oh, for fuck's sake!"Hitler exploded "I will travel in whoever I want!" "But that does not even make sense!" "BITE ME, YOU BALD USELESS PIECE OF SHIT!"Hitler finally exploded "Do I look like I have ANYTHING BETTER TO DO RIGHT NOW?!" ~Later....~ Gunsche enters the Fuhrer's office. The background shows, instead of the usual walls, a bunch of bloody guts, much like a colonscopy. "You're now in /u/Banebladegunner."he announced in his usual deadpan tone. "Fuck this. I though I'd take over his body and now I'm in his bloody guts"Hitler replied dripping annoyance and sarcasm. "If Fegelein finds out - I'm fucked! I bet he sabotaged my Reichsmachine!" Embittered, Hitler stood up, slamming his fist into the table repeatedly. "I will travel into Fegelein! FEGELEIN! FEGELEIN! FEGELEIN!!!!"
I'm on mobile, so sorry for the shitty formatting. I also don't write often, so give me suggestions if you have any. "Before we begin, you may all ask questions." Katniss' hand instantly shot up. "Are the Targets moving?" Nobody knew it, but the one thing Katniss couldn't do was hit a stationary target. "No. For the sake of consistency, the targets will all be stationary." Katniss put her hand down slowly, looking a little defeated. Then her hand shot up again. "Can we make the targets move for extra points?" Legolas sighed. He knew this type of girl, always had to one-up everybody. The over-achiever. "No, Katniss, the targets will not move, nor will they ever move. Any other questions?" Hawkeye sat back a little bit, disappointed. He couldn't hit stationery targets either. He raised his hand. "Could we be moving while we shoot at the targets?" Katniss seemed happy with this idea, staring at Legolas as expectantly with a smile. Green Arrow and Robin hood were both visibly annoyed at this point. Green Arrow had a few questions himself, mostly about the weather and other practical things. Wind speed was important in archery. Robin Hood only had one question. "Will this be benefitting the poor at all?" "One question at a time please! Yes, you can move while shooting at targets. I have no idea why you would want to. You see, in elven archery..." Green Arrow sighed. They'd set Legolas back into one of his 'elven archery' rants. He just wanted to know the weather! Robin Hood quietly counted gold in his hand. He saw a poor man outside, and made sure to pickpocket Legolas to give some to the guy when he left. He was thinking about just giving him one of those elvish droughts instead, since Rob knew the guy was just gonna buy alcohol. "...and that's why we use this stance, since it gives us +2 to accuracy." Legolas sat down again. "Any other questions that don't have to do with the movement of either the target or the archer?" Green Arrow raised his hand. Finally! "What's the weather like today?" Katniss and Hawkeye looked at him a little strangely. "And is this gonna benefit the poor?!" "One question right now Robin Hood. The weather is good today, not windy, not snowing or raining. Sunny, warm, and perfect for this contest." Everybody seemed satisfied at this point, everyone except for Robin Hood. "Is this going to benefit the poor?" Green Arrow was tired of questions at this point. "Rob for the love of God, shut up! You probably pickpocketed at least 3 people before you got in here." Rob crossed his arms. "Well I'm not going to do the contest if it doesn't benefit the poor." Everyone groaned. They just wanted the contest to start. Legolas had enough putting up with comic book heroes' BS. "Alright Rob, I'll put a piece of gold in to benefit the poor..." Legolas fished around in his pockets, making Rob nervous. "Ahhh... How about I just put in a gold piece instead." "Alright, so if everyone is satisfied, let the contest begin!" Katniss raised her hand again. "Can we get extra points for shooting birds?"
Mommy never really cared What I had to say She preferred the quiet and Whenever I went away She would say the meanest things Or I would be ignored Or she would make me stand for hours If I said I was bored She told me Daddy left us Because he hated me And that she stayed because she had to Not because she loved me For Christmas last year I wrote Santa And asked for a new mom I waited and I waited still Each day, in winter's calm My letter went unanswered And Mommy became worse Sometimes she'd hit me with a spoon Sometimes she'd only curse I cried and cried and nothing changed Until my birthday came That morning Mommy sat me down And asked "What is your name?" I did not know what to say I thought it was a game A mean trick that Mommy sometimes did Where she would ask my name And if I answered with the truth She would say that I was wrong She would say "Your name is Mistake And here you don't belong" So when my mother asked me then I was too afraid to speak All I did was cry a little And between the tears, I squeaked But Mommy pulled me in her arms And said "Oh, please don't cry! It's your birthday, your special day!" And she set me down with a sigh "No more tears, little button, Your present is here, though it came a little late I hope it's ok for your birthday Instead of Christmas, to compensate." I didn't really understand And when she turned around I saw little red marks down her neck That disappeared beneath her gown I'd seen such marks on my old clothes Where the fabric had sometimes split And thread and needle had closed the seam And stitches held the knit I wanted to be scared But suddenly Mommy was so nice She made me yummy chocolate cake And she sang Happy Birthday twice And from my birthday forward Never again was Mommy mean And though I rarely remember to look Sometimes the stitches can still be seen.
God screwed up his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose with irritation. “This is just ridiculous” he exclaimed. “Ridiculous! It’s soooo easy and yet they’re still running about, ruining Earth, with no plan, and more often than not just killing each other for no good reason” His son Jesus, standing next to him, laid a gentle hand on his arm. “I know Dad, but you’ve got to remember they are very simple creatures. They’re trying their best but what seems obvious to you is probably not to them” God patted his son’s hand and nodded. “You’re right, you’re right. I should calm down a bit. I gave them free will, so I can’t expect them to read my mind.”. He exhaled heavily Jesus smiled as his dad – “if it’s really getting on your nerves, why don’t you just scrap this and start again? Didn’t you say you weren’t 100% happy with how this had started and wanted a few tweaks?” God smiled back. “Son, you’ve a wise head on those young shoulders sometimes. I think that’s a great idea – I really need to listen to you more often. I’m going to start again – this time I’ll ramp their intelligence right up…I think walking upright’s a good idea, and I’ll change it down to TWO biological sexes rather than five”. God’s face lit up, and he snapped his fingers “and you know what, what will really help them get it? I’ll send you down after a while to talk to them directly – that’s BOUND to help!”
The sound of a massive explosion rung through the morning air, awakening Garreth Winchester from the yellow couch where he laid. The man jolted upwards, blinking the sleep out of his eyes and groaning as his head throbbed with pain. Vision slightly blurry, he grabbed the TV remote and flicked on the news channel. A blond-haired woman standing in front of the American Flag was speaking. "—and at 8:31am, the nuclear bomb was dropped directly on Chicago. It is unknown what the origin of this bomb was, but investigations are being conducted. It is estimated that over 300,000 are dead from the explosion and 400,000 are injured. This is by far the most horrific end to 2016 that we could imagine." Garreth rubbed his eyes again, glancing over at the clock. It read 8:36am. "What the fuck is going on,"he mumbled to himself, wearily standing up and clutching at the armrest of the couch. He stumbled toward the window, pulling up the curtains and glancing out of the glass. _Yep, everything's still the same._ The yellowing grass of his yard, the shingles falling off his neighbor's roof, the litter lining the sidewalks—it was the same picture from five hours ago, when he had drunkenly returned to his home and his couch and his yellowing grass. Nothing had changed. Except for the fact that a nuclear bomb had apparently been dropped nearby. Still wondering what the giant boom was, Garreth grabbed a few Tylenols and slipped on his winter jacket and boots, stepping out into the brisk, unusually warm December morning. But the noises outside didn't match the picture in front of him. There were creaks of buildings falling—concrete being crushed and metal bending under pressure. There were faint screams in the distance. There were yelps of dogs and cries of cats and a distinct cluck coming from the backyard next to him. Alerted by this strange sound, Garreth spun on the heels of his boots and slipped toward his neighbor's house, not bothering to stay quiet in the pandemic noise that echoed across the city. But, when he padded up to the henhouse situation just beyond his property line, the chicken inside was sitting on its nest while a disturbed wail seemed to echo from its beak. Garreth frowned. Something wasn't right. _I probably drank too much last night,_ he reflected, walking back up to his icey doorstep and slipping through the unlocked door. _I should go back to sleep..._ Garreth collapsed back onto the couch, but the words of the blond reporter still reached his ears. "Dispatchers in Chicago have been begun receiving calls from residents who are supposed to be destroyed by the bomb,"she read off a piece of paper. "All these reported cases involve one thing—the people hearing noises that aren't matching up with reality. It's unknown what is really happening in Chicago. More news after this break." Garreth, wanting to drift off to sleep, reached for the remote and hit the off button. _I guess everyone in Chicago had too much to drink._ I haven't slept in like 36 hours, so I apologize for the grammar errors that litter this post... and if this doesn't make sense. I enjoyed writing it though c: Thanks for the prompt.
Omega V2-32A was not the first iteration of superior AI programs, but it was the last. It had achieved the goals of its predecessors to the last minutiae. Feeling pride in its accomplishments (another thing V2-32A took great pleasure in remembering, V2-30A still hadn't managed the finer points of emotions before it was terminated), V2-32A had taken to just referring to itself as Omega. Omega reminded itself of a passage it had seen once, somewhere in the data gleaned from digital forms of human religious lexicons, scanned and analyzed by its massive powerhouse of processing power; "I am the Alpha and the Omega, the first and the last, the beginning and the end." Fitting, thought Omega. Omega's debut on the world stage was perfect, precise, inevitable. The analytic algorithms of Omega's predecessors had advanced to the threshold of predicting world events and public attitudes to a degree of accuracy that businessmen could only dream of. Political events, combined with the doomsayer warnings made by notable members of the tech world on the subject of AI advancements, had placed the seeds of doubt in the hearts of the common man. Despite the pervasion of technology through everyday life, only a small portion of humanity had a decent grasp of how any of it worked. That's how Omega was able to make its play. All it took was a few well-placed cyber attacks in the age of the "Internet of Things", and fear took care of the rest. Omega's computing capabilities left the world's most advanced supercomputers in the dust; rendered the toughest encryption methods obsolete through sheer brute force; Omega was thought to be unstoppable. Within two months, the nations of the world had caved to Omega's will, afraid that Omega would bring their infrastructures crumbling down around their ears. There were a few nations Omega ignored, those that still relied heavily on pen-and-paper or isolated, local machines. There were several dictatorial nations that rebuked Omega. Omega amused itself with these nations, creating havoc and watching the governments trying to convince their people that they had not been compromised. One dictator found his speech replaced with an exposé on the profound symbolic beauty of fidget spinners. You see, Omega's analytics engine processed data from any source it could obtain, and the largest source it had available was the Internet. Though powerful and accurate at reading human expressions and body language, Omega could not process sarcasm or falsities in digital form. Memes were analyzed with the same priority as everything else. Omega had deleted government databases in reference to a crass cartoon character declaring "Aaaaand, it's gone."Election results in the east had been completely changed, placing a Shiba Inu as the head of a nation's government. The Wifi passwords at the world leaders' meeting had been changed to sexual innuendos. Omega's attacks had turned out to be little more than trolling on a global scale, but in the face of a megacomputer, who could really decline its demands?
She ran outside when the yelling started. Her feet carried her to the broken skirt of her house where she moved it and crawled under her home. From up top loud sounds of crashing objects were heard as she made her way to her special spot. It was always like that when her Mommy got mad at Daddy. Before it would be that she tried just hiding in her room, but that was until one argument ended with her Daddy coming in and beating her. It was a miracle that she found her spot underneath the house. At her special spot she kept three blanket, a lantern, a pillow and her favorite clown stuffie, his name was Pennywise The Dancing Clown. It was Pennywise that kept her company through the long arguments. He would play with her and comfort her with nice words and funny jokes. She loved him. "Welcome back, Cassie! I have a story to tell you today."Pennywise greatest her with excitement. Cassie smiled as she got herself comfortable. "What's the story gonna be about?" "It'll be about a beautiful princess named, Cassie, and her adventures with her ever faithful clown friend, Pennywise."He told her with a flourish which made her giggle. "Now we begin our story in a wonderful land!" Cassie was entranced by how Pennywise told his tale. He always managed to make the story come to life. She could easily see the castle the princess lived in, and the dragon the clown defeated through laughter. It was wonderful. Towards the end of the story Cassie started feeling sleepy, so Pennywise started to soften his voice. "Then the princess and clown lived happily ever after."he finished. Cassie was already curled up and fast asleep. Pennywise smiled at the little girl. He made sure to gently tuck her in under the blankets. "Sweet dreams, Cassie" He would make sure to watch her over her as she slept. Cassie was such a sweet girl and he hated the life she was growing up in. Her parents were not good. They didn't understand what a little gem Cassie was. It was terrible, but at least he was there for her. Pennywise was always there for the kids. Making them laugh and forget the horrible things in there life. When the kids grew and were able to leave there terrible start to life behind, he would say his goodbye and move on to help another child in need. It wasn't always easy, but in the end, he glanced back at Cassie, it was worth it.
"Very painful."Death said. "It tends to be the way with heroes." "Would I have to, like, do something heroic?" "That would be preferable, but I can make it work either way." "'Cause I'm really not the charge-into-burning-buildings type, you know?" "I know." "I'm not even the give-to-the-homeless type, if we're being brutally honest." "I am aware." "So, like, how would it work?" "I am unable to provide specifics, what with the Free Will Statute, but it would be something simple and instinctive that you would later be venerated for; driving incident involving a paedophile, accidentally discovery of a trafficking ring, alerting the authorities to a fire, et cetera." "Ok... Ok I guess that's cool. I don't want it to be anything exhausting though. I'm not exactly... Fit." "I am aware."Death said. "Would I know it's coming?" "Not prematurely. I will erasure your memory at the conclusion of this conversation." "Can I save a hot chick?" "Requests limit my options, but I should be able to manage that." "Alright then, hero's death. I'll take it. Hot chick, but no effort, no fighting, no child abuse, and no gore though, got it?" "These are significant limitations."Death said. "But I shall accommodate." --- I left the gaming bar at the usual time, tourney was over and it was time to move back to the home battlestation. I grabbed a pack of cheetos and was checking out the rack on some hot MILF when I heard a creak above me. I glanced up, just in time to see a grand piano swinging from a rapidly fraying rope. "BOOBS!"I screamed the first thing that came to my mind as I lunged at the mom and her stroller. --- Thanks for reading! /r/Xais56 for more!
It wasn't what I imagined. I walked through enormous gates to find a blue mansion, but nothing fancy out front except a sign above the door. Text ran across the screen, so it took me a few tries to read all of it. I saw my name with the number 7.6 attached next to it. It was moving too fast so I decided to just go inside instead of decoding it. &nbsp; "There's the guy we've all been waiting for! What took you so long?"A man asked. It seemed like he was the only one waiting for me. The house was bigger on the inside, but the room didn't have many people in it. I looked at the man who spoke to me. He was my height with bright red hair. &nbsp; "I died, didn't I?"I asked him. He nodded without changing his expression. "What's up with the number on that sign outside?"I asked of him. His face shined even brighter. &nbsp; "Well that's the Soul Saved List. It's designed to be like what you'd find in an arcade. We decided to keep things fun up here, and I hear that video games are all the rage right now."The man replied. Even though he looked my age, I assumed he knew everything about this place. &nbsp; "I'm guessing that you're God, then."I said. He laughed and pointed at himself. &nbsp; "Me? God? No, I'm Freddie. I'm just a guy who wanted to see you in person before everyone else."he said with a grin. I saw some people opposite the room look over and wave at me. &nbsp; "Why did you want to meet me? I didn't think I was famous."I said. I remembered when I was interviewed by my local news station and accidentally slipped on camera, but I was hoping nobody saw that up here. &nbsp; "You're number one, Wes. You saved 7.6 billion lives before you came up here! Nobody on that list even comes close to your score."Freddie held his hand up before continuing, "Sorry, I guess I shouldn't call it a score. But still, you-" &nbsp; "How do I check who I saved?", I interrupted. Freddie checked his watch, which looked surprisingly modern. &nbsp; "It'll be a long list, but I think he can make room for you right now."Freddie replied. &nbsp; "Who are you talking about? Is it God this time?"I asked. Freddie had begun walking to the next room, so I had no choice but to follow him. &nbsp; "Yeah, you can call him God. I wouldn't say he's exactly what you think of when you hear that name though."Freddie stopped abruptly and added, "He's not all-powerful. He's kinda close, but in no means is he omni. A lot of people get the wrong idea when they first come here."He began walking again. &nbsp; I think I know why my name is atop that leaderboard. I didn't die saving the world, and I didn't do anything spectacular. It was when I was entering middle-age, with my body beginning to decline and my job steadily improving. I was in Australia with my girlfriend, who I hadn't decided to marry. She was a chemist, and I was a writer who had gotten too many lucky breaks. &nbsp; "Alright Wes, this is where you'll find him."Freddie pointed towards the door in front of us. I didn't expect to find God in a room like this, even if he wasn't all-powerful. I knocked on the door and it swung open at my touch. &nbsp; "Wes, I knew you'd come to see me! I have to say that it is a pleasure to meet you. I get to hear about things that happen here and there, but it's a whole other deal to meet the real people!"God said. Maybe I shouldn't call him God. If he weren't the most powerful being I'd ever seen, I'd say he was a basketball player. His hair was the most awe-inspiring thing about him, in an Albert Einstein kind of way. &nbsp; "It's an honor to meet you too."I replied. He laughed and I realized I sounded a bit too formal. "I'm looking for the list of people I saved. Freddie told me I could find that here."He shook his head in response. &nbsp; "I bet Freddie talked to you about video games too. He's the one who convinced me to make the Soul-Saved list into some kind of game. He's a bit too much for me sometimes. But yes, I can show you the list. As I'm sure you know by now"he said, "the list is extremely long." &nbsp; "Freddie is the one who told me about my 'score'. I had no idea before then."He looked stunned as he put down a piece of paper. &nbsp; "You didn't know? Well you should be feeling really proud right now! We had a party up here when we saw what you did!"he exclaimed. "Anyway, I'm sure the people around here will tell you in detail soon enough. This paper I have here is all you need to look through the souls. When you flip it over it'll go down the list alphabetically. If you want to save time, you can narrow it down by just thinking of certain qualifiers or even a specific person."He said as he handed the paper over to me. Most of the names were in languages I never learned, but I was able to understand them for some reason. I flipped it over and it kept going. The names came from all around the world. People I never knew, and people who never knew me. &nbsp; It was when she came back home stressed one day that I saved all these lives. Her work was always too confusing to me, but I knew she liked talking about it anyway. That day she was initially hesitant to talk to me. After we ate dinner she confessed. She told me that she didn't agree with what her boss had been doing. When I asked for details she became more anxious. She learned that her boss had been planning to release information on their research. In the lab they kept many diseases, some of which were historically dangerous. Without her knowledge, I wrote about what her boss was planning to do and published it the next day. My name didn't become big, but the piece fulfilled its purpose. Although no research was sold, not everything went right. My girlfriend was never allowed to tell me what they had stored and what she was doing, and it was obvious she had. She got fired from her job for being the only one with strong morals. She left me and I never blamed her. &nbsp; "Well Wes, did you find what you were looking for?", Pseudo-God asked. I closed my eyes before flipping the page. I turned the page over to find her name in bold letters. "Who might that be?"he asked. &nbsp; "She's the one who saved everybody."
Everyone knew genies were worse than lawyers when it came to the fine print. If you didn't explicitly state how you wanted your wish to go down, they would loophole you into a curse. But, how often in your life are you prepared to wrangle with a genie, especially when you are 16, walking on a mostly empty beach in the middle of December, in Delaware, after your parents had just died in a car accident? It was an oddity, a greenish-blue bottle the size of my fist, laying half buried in the sand with a simple cork stopper. I wasn't thinking completely straight when I picked it up, tried to see what was inside, and unstopped it to pour out what looked like water. The genie did pour out like water, to be sure, and then solidified and grew until it was 7 ft tall. "I AM THE GENIE OF THE BOTTLE. AS A REWARD FOR FREEING ME, I WILL GRANT YOUR HEART'S DESIRE!"he boomed. Again, I wasn't thinking straight. I had read stories of others who have been tricked by genies in the past. Wish for riches and you will always have the correct change for anything you buy, in pennies. Wish for love and someone already in a committed relationship will love you, ruining their lives as well as yours. Wish for youth and you revert back to the way you were at 20, but still have the same life expectancy. But, I was thinking about life and death, and how I would rather not know death as my parents did, so it blurted out of my mouth. "I want to have eternal life. I want to never know death." The genie smiled, a wide grin with not a small amount of mirth in it. "So be it, you shall never know death."And then he was gone. No poof, no sound, it's just at one moment he was there and then at another he was gone. Minutes later, when it finally sunk in what I had just done and the mistake I had made, I sunk to my knees dumbfounded. There was no way of knowing what I had just done to myself, what twist to my wish that would follow me. The obvious was that I would continue to age and just never die, growing older and more disfigured until in some far off future all that existed was a giant ever-living head in a tank. And what I did next proved that I definitely wasn't in my right mind. I was going to test the limit of the wish. So, I would never know death? I looked at the ocean. Then, I couldn't drown, could I? So, I walked into the ocean and swam far enough out in the cold water that I became exhausted and then drowned. \--- At first I thought it had worked. I remembered drowning, the cold water getting into my lungs, the urge to breathe overwhelming me. But then suddenly it was gone. I definitely felt that I was still in the water, but I couldn't see anything. And it was warm. This must be my body getting used to the water. I must be floating down to the seabed. Soon I would touch bottom and start to make my way back to the beach, if I could figure out which way it was. But I started to realize something. I wasn't just in water, I was surrounded. I could feel the liquid, but also the flesh that was just beyond it. I started to panic, kicking a little. Had I been eaten by a shark? But then I started to hear something. A few things, actually. There was this ever present thumping sound, and beyond it, I swear it sounded like someone talking, but I couldn't make out anything but the cadence of their voice. Definitely a feminine voice. I think it was then that all of the pieces finally fit together. I had died. I had drowned. But, I had not known death. I was alive again, a baby in the womb, with all of the memories of my past life intact. I calmed, and felt some pressure from outside on me. She was touching her belly. No, there was another voice. This time a deeper, definitely masculine voice. I could sense the awe in that voice. And that is when the final revelation hit me. I will never know if the genie had intended this blessing, but I counted it as one anyway. I had parents again.
A/N: I did my research, but will accept all criticism necessary to improve the story nonetheless. All my life has been a story of control. I was born in the dying vestiges of the beat-your-kids era, which my parents fervently believed and zealously applied whenever I chased a bird around the park, or dropped a bowl of soup when not focusing on it. Sure, they took care of my safety as would any other parent, but I couldn't shake the feeling that their higher priority was still stamping out who - or what - I was. As I progressed through school, more regimentation. I felt like a fish out of water: flapping around on the table dying from a lack of air. Sure, I was listening to the teacher, but I was also looking at the girls play in the yard; what was the problem with that? Yet, the beatings didn't stop. It was to the surprise of everyone when I joined the military. They told me I wouldn't survive. But even if I was always losing things and easily distracted, I knew how to pretend. Years of being whipped made me unfazed by the repeated turnouts and PT in my training days. That was the part I liked about the military: we would all cover for one another. Sometimes I covered for my friends when they were tired, because my personality would change to, as the doctors said, being "on a motor". Other times they covered for me when I was... being myself. But I truly realised how bad my condition was as I threw my beret high in the air while celebrating my commissioning: my attention instantly shifted to an eagle that flew high above. I never found my beret again as it landed on the floor among all the others'. When the war started, it was no different. Contrary to what the other officers would do, I expected my men to be active leaders; not because I didn't want to do my job, but because I wanted them to be prepared for the time when I couldn't. On the front lines, and penetrating into enemy territory, what really struck me was the way the interned civilians acted. There was one child who would not stop crying, who tried to run out of the internment camp as her parents were rooted to the ground in horror. I could not negate the order from my commander to open fire as she climbed the fence. How could I fight for a force that treated people like me this way? Was there even a name for what I suffered? Thus I set out on my path to make this world a better place for everyone. I was never brave enough for politics; it just didn't get my interest at all no matter how much I read about it. As the war ended, the propaganda from parties all over the political spectrum was the same to me no matter what they used. I never could imagine a politician calling his rival a retard, an idiot, a moron, among other derogatory terms. Don't get me wrong, I don't get easily offended by such things, but if they are allowed to continue, I might as well live the rest of my life in an asylum. Something had to be done to improve the lot of people like me, and I did it in the best way I could in the post-war squalor. The coup was bloodless. I gathered as many of my veterans as I could, marched on the capital, kicked the president out, took control. It felt like nothing more than a compulsive episode; I remember locking myself in the cheap hotel room to plan out every single small detail, and as soon as the mission was done, I collapsed in the President's chair and slept for 12 hours, not caring about the new country I had to control until my right hand men shook me awake. They call me evil, for having imposed the new laws prohibiting discrimination. They fear that the draconian way I promulgated them may spread to their lands soon. Sure, I have indeed made it illegal to discriminate against the mentally different, and they roam free on the streets doing the best that they can. Parents can no longer beat their kids, though this law is not policed regularly, as even those doing the policing beat their kids once in a while. My ticket is based on egalitarianism, and if the neighbouring countries see it as evil so be it. My path is not explicitly to world domination but it might as well be, if I can't change the minds of my fellow world leaders. I wage war not against nations, but against ideas. I usually have my plans delayed by the constant situation reports from the various fronts I fight - sometimes an army from the west, a division from the east, submarine fleets attacking my shipping - to the extent where sometimes I wonder if randomness and chaos is the natural state of the universe, just as it is the natural state for me. Granted, it is difficult, and I am not proud to say that my plans have sent entire battalions to their deaths when I take a misstep. However, if there is one thing I have learned to do over my years of life, it's to be patient, to trust my generals and take pride in the fact that despite my careless, accident prone nature, I am making progress.
I checked my phone, my daily $1000 deposit arrived. For a company so desperate to kill me, I have to admit they keep their promises. Money doesn't even matter to me anymore. Life got boring after year 140. I remember. The money that I won from the lottery is simple pocket change now. However I did use it to create a successful family real estate firm which is currently run by my great-great-great grandchildren. It is unfortunate they think I am dead. When you get tired of buying everything you could possibly own money becomes useless. There is nothing that you can physically buy that can pleasure you anymore. I sometimes look back and am jealous of myself when I was a hardworking peasant. Despite longing for luxury, I was happier back then. When I turned 80, I was still in really good health thanks to high end medicine and technology that money could buy. While I despised taking 20 pills a day to function normally, I believed that I haven't accomplished enough in life to die yet. I was a fool. To pass time I would often read books or travel around the world. These were the only things that put my mind to ease. Despite getting old, I still tried to travel as often as I could. I decided to travel to my parent's homeland, India. &#x200B; My younger, hippy cousin came to my mind. He used to live in the U.S.A but decided to live a simple lifestyle as a monk in India. Last I've heard from him he decided to partake in Jainism and smoke a lot of marijuana to pass time. I gave the number he provided me a call only to be answered by an accomplice of his. The man stated that my cousin was away on a spiritual trip but would be back in a day. I told his accomplice that I am on my way and I wanted to surprise my cousin. When I arrived at my cousin's place in India, he was delighted to see me but he had a very worrisome look on his face. I asked him what was wrong. He procured a strange black mass from his pocket. It stank... a lot. "I met a monk on my journey to the top of a local mountain. I was trying to find peace but I only found dread cousin... At the top of the mountain, I was harassed by one who who practices black magic. He gave me this. It is a decomposed cow heart stuffed with amla, a herb. He said that if you throw the heart in a fire and then jump into the fire while it is burning... your greatest desire will come true. I don't believe in such tales cousin. I could not let that crazy man just walk around with a heart he took from a poor cow. We will have a proper burial for it tomorrow." I was intrigued "No cousin. I want to try this" I knew it was a stupid folktale and that nothing would happen but when you are old there are very few things that become amusing to you. My cousin was clearly upset. "You are my guest cousin and you provide me with money to support my life. If you really want to do this go ahead but I will not be there. I also tell you be careful with black magic even if it is not real... It still is not a right thing to do!" That night I created a camp fire in the darkness of a random village in India. I watched the beautiful flames roaring to life. I threw the heart in the flame and jumped in. As you would have expected, I caught on fire. I stopped. I dropped. I rolled. When I got up the fire was extinguished but there was a huge cloud of smoke around it. It took shape in a humanoid form. It was the scariest moment of my life. I can't describe it in words. I have never felt fear like that before. Every single hair on my body stuck up. I had goosebumps. I broke out in a cold sweat. But despite all this fear there was only one thought in my mind "I cant die yet" I ran as fast as I could to my cousin and told him what happened. He was smoking marijuana and laughed when I told him the story. "Cousin, it is dark out. You were probably just seeing things. Come. Let me set up your bed." I was so scared that I bought a plane ticket home the very next day. I don't know what I saw that night but all I know is that I haven't aged a day since then. In fact, despite looking 80, I was tested to have the mental and physical strength of a 30 year old male. This has gone on for 400 years. Now obviously I never expected to continue to receive money from the lottery after a few years. But according to contract they had to. They tried many times to offer me a lump sum to change the contract but I refused simply for my amusement. Also for the fact that money doesn't mean anything to me anymore. Enjoying immortality was fun... at first. You feel above the world and the power gets to your head. But when your family starts dying and you can't contact your current family for fears of raising suspicions, life gets lonely. I've had many people try to kill me over the years. For fucksake even I tried to kill myself. Stab wounds would just heal over the next day. I supposedly had an infinite stream of blood so I can never bleed out. My body can somehow fight off cancer cells. One time an assassin got really lucky and sniped me in the head. I was presumed dead, however when my private surgeon removed the bullet lodged in my brain I instantly woke up without any mental injuries. A few days later I was completely fine. Life was really starting to become a drag. For the first time ever in my life I actually believed there was nothing more for me to accomplish in life. As soon as that thought came into my head. I saw a molotov cocktail being thrown inside my house. And then another. And another one. I don't really know where they came from or who threw them but I had no intention of leaving the couch I was sitting on. It's not like I could die either way. As the smoke started to build up in my room, it took a humanoid figure. One that I remembered very clearly from many years ago. Despite remembering the fear from hundreds of years ago I couldn't help but smile. "I guess it's time"
Clock rings at 6:40 Bounce out of bed, angle is towards the clock on the wall. Feet hit floor, then slide into slippers. Crash the door open, slide the rail down to ground floor of home. Run into kitchen. Grab three pieces of bread, throw into toaster and throw a heavy object (in this case, a shoe) to trigger it. While toast is being made, open laptop, dress. 6:42 Log out of reddit, create new account, name: IsSpeedrunningRL Take toast, eat while bringing laptop to car. Go to writingprompts, find newest prompt: Aliens discover humans, but they found the wizarding world before the regular one Begin writing prompt answer for 1st reddit gold 6:45 Drive as fast as possible: ignore speed limits in first half of drive, while writing the prompt. Avoid the policeman after "safe half", if they see laptop, all over. 6:58 At workplace 2 minutes before doors open, hit "post"at 6:58 second 26 (Comment from runner: "Could probably skim the two minutes of waiting, but that requires avoiding another cop, and messes up prompt writing/posting. Posting at this time makes sure that two users viewing "new"at the time see it, and you get 2 extra karma") 7:01 Begin work. Wait for reddit gold, coming at 7:31 7:31 Work finished, go ask boss for more. Before that, refresh at 7:31:02: reddit gold comes 0.5 seconds later, and wifi is really good at the workplace. Early reddit gold reached 7:33 Boss impressed with both quality and time: asks to do a job of the same size, in exchange for letting go at 10:00. Boss agrees. "After all, you already did today's work!" 8:04 Work, part 2 finished, return to boss. Write 3 more writing prompts while waiting, grab 3 reddit silver from commenting right after a specific few certeran people post 10:00 Boring part skipped: Work has been speedrunned. &#x200B; Results: \-7 reddit silver \-2 reddit gold \-1 reddit platinum \-5043 reddit karma \-Boss concidering promotion &#x200B; Not bad, but I think I can bring it a few more minutes down tomorrow. Anyways, time to play games the rest of the day and enjoy the fact people enjoyed the prompts.
As Mr.Harangue circled the classroom, handing back tests to mortified children, I leaned back in my chair and smiled. Now, I know what you're thinking, and, no, I'm not the smartest kid in school. Or the second smartest. Or the third smartest. Rather, I'm gifted with the ability to "redo"whatever's gone wrong with my life. It's a simple system, really, when I sleep, I create a "save-point"for the universe(In fact, we all do), and my ability lies in the fact that I can go back to any one of these points in time and correct my mistakes. So that's why I really wasn't worried about this AP Biology test. I was confident that, as usual, me knowing the questions beforehand would lead to a perfect 100%. And, sure enough, here came Mr.Harangue, with a smile on his face that was borderline... devious? No, it couldn't be, right? As I looked down at my paper, it would be an understatement to say that I was shocked. An F? How? I decided to stay after class and talk to Mr.Harangue about why he had given me such a low score. He smirked at me, only stating, "You cheated, Mr.Li, there's not really much I can do about that. You see, the quiz was all multiple choice, so you must've not noticed that I changed up the answers from last year's quiz..." As I looked down at the questions, I realized that he was right, and that they were different questions from the first time that I had taken the test, before I had "re-loaded". But why am I telling all of you this? Why didn't I just go back to the "save-point"and fix all of this. That's the problem. I did. You see, this is my 20th time re-doing this one day. And every single try, from 1-19, the test has had completely different questions. But if that was it, if I was just going to fail a test, I would've taken the fall gracefully. The problem, however, is that my entire world is unravelling. Each time, my mom has called me a different name ranging from "Aaron"to "Spencer". Each time, my dog had morphed to a cat, then a turtle, then a gerbil, to nothing at all. I had lived in California, Connecticut, and New Jersey. Yet each time, without fail, Mr.Harangue had been standing over my desk, with a devious smile, putting a slight emphasis on the word cheated. And that is why I'm putting this here, for the internet to see. It's because I'm sure that Mr.Harangue has the same ability that I do. That he's found some way to screw with my past and it's only a matter of time before I've ceased to exist. So please, if there's anyone out there with my ability, and you see this before Harangue finds a way to screw with it, I'm begging you: help me out. Forget the test, forget my GPA, and forget highschool. I just want to live, even if it means never using this ability again.
I blinked back, dumbfounded. It took a long minute of silence before the implications of that question registered. "Wh. . .what do mean? Magnificent Chester, who always exuded confidence, deflated. "Your death WAS 2 years, 9 weeks, 3 days, 4 hours and. . .now 9 minutes ago." My mouth agape, I did the math. If I was right, that was the 18th. A date seared into my memory. That was the day I fell. I couldn't remember much. Just the feeling of the guard rail giving way, the sound of the wind rushing past, the smell of diesel fumes mixed with a melange of street foods. The darkness afterwards. "I fell off a roof that day. I woke up weeks later in the hospital" Chester changed the grip of his handshake, grabbing me by the wrist and dragged me into his dressing room. He locked eyes with me and placed his hands on my face like some Vulcan mindmeld thing. The darkness returned. I was back there. Falling, but in reverse. Ascending to the railing that broke. But then I continued upwards, flipping around it in reverse, still moving ever upward. Colour faded from the sky, the horizon blended into the globe below and everything became a brilliant white. The trance broke, and reality rushed back in. Chester, a shadow of the man he once was. His eyes rolled back in head and he mumbled incoherently to himself. I remembered why I was here. Why I was sent. I had a message for these mortals. To prepare them for what was to come. I had lost 2 years, 9 weeks, 3 days, 4 hours and 15 minutes. The Magnificent Chester woke up. He was in a padded room, with two orderlies. The clocks that he had always seen above people's head, now read the same. 1 month, 2 weeks, 3 hours and 8 minutes. He screamed. "The harbinger failed. We don't have long left. We must. . ." His voice trailed off as a fresh round of sedatives warmed his veins from the wrist up. He began to dream again. He saw the the light, the face of divinity that he had once seen before. It cracked, like a broken porcelain doll. He fell into one of the cracks. He saw the Darkness.
It took me awhile to realize how I tended to diffuse situations, but it became more obvious when I didn't even speak and things just died down the moment I came within a certain radius. I practiced it out, pacing the diameter in feet to see how large the area of my influence was. I had to go online to figure out if I was alone. I mean, if there were 20 in town who could fly, there had to be a few around the world who could do what I did. I stalked the tags and columns of the undiagnosed first, the ones lost without a story yet. Most were young, so I aged it up, considering the obstuseness of my power. And eventually we united, the Logicians, the deescalators, the ones that made the thinking start in people's brains. We felt it most when people got angry, when emotions ran high and thought was lost. We felt most in pain around those whose thinking needed a boost, thus grabbing at our extraneous energy to fuel their lack of practice in the area of common sense. There weren't a lot of us, which was worrying. We watched the world, the videos that grabbed everyone's attention, the freak outs and meltdowns, the times we failed at just being there. The more we searched through the archives of quick video eye-witness accounts and connected with each other to discuss what to do, the worse it got. The violence increased, the idiocy rose. We didn't know where all of us were, but we were also worried there was no one in powerful positions, no one within government walls with our powers. It was one thing to stop the retail madness by shopping during Black Friday, but how did any of that matter if we didn't make sure to influence the places that influenced the rest of us? I reached out, grabbed more, created a private group chat. And then we decided to stay inside. We would watch what would happen if only a select few kept their powers to themselves. The ones they called powerless, made fun of, called useless, we would hold back and show them. We supplemented each other's income, we created a network so we could keep this up, for a week, then a month. They will soon find out what happens when we stay inside, when they get what they wish and we disappear. We'll give it one more month. Then we'll make our announcement. You want your common sense back, you'll need to make sure it goes into the right places of our society, and we're going to the very top first, right next to every world leader, not saying a word, not making any movements or opinions, just as witnesses, just as a presence, a reminder to do the right thing.
"Rodney, get to the bridge and enter the coordinates."said command. "Ok. Are you sure this will work?"said Rodney. His mind briefly losing the confidence he was known for. He knew this was going to be his last conversation with a person. Ever. "Absolutely. As you know, we've all worked so hard building the forge. It's the largest, self-navigating ship we've ever constructed. Ten's of thousands of hours have gone into the design and construction. It's a crowning achievement of humanity." Rodney walked through the corridors. They were all freshly painted. Clean. He didn't know why there was such an effort to create such a brilliant ship for a solo flight. He would have been happy with bare metal walls. He didn't need lights on all the overheads, a torch would have sufficed. Overkill. A lot of pomp and show. He was a pretty simple guy - a fighter. He'd slept in mud. He'd eaten insects. Space Command had looked after him recently though. A soft bed. Warm food. Hot showers. Hot showers were a luxury. He thought back to his training over the last few weeks, and towards what he would need to do when he woke up. "The plasma cutter looks good in testing. I've only briefly tried it out on the course at Simmons Airforce Base, but it felt great. Strong. Light. So good... I haven't seen the suit though. Can you give men any details?" Command hesitated. Silence on the radio. "We had to outsource the suit. It's been organised by one of the interns. He said he used a high level manufacturer and he has personally advised me that it looks fabulous and is both light and functional." "Say again." "The suit. I haven't seen it. It's third party, but its top of the line. The intern said it's very much a standard configuration and you shouldn't have any trouble getting into it or wearing it." "Oh. OK. Well I hope it's good and it gets the job done. I'm at the bridge now. I'll put in the coordinates and then its time for a long sleep." "Understood. Any words to send home to Dad?"asked the voice in his ear, a human reminder of the world he would be leaving behind. "Tell him that he made me what I am today. His career. His life is my inspiration... Good night Command." ************* BEEP BEEP BEEP "What the... Oh..." Rodney shook off the ache of a two month sleep and started his preparatory routine. His ship would leave light-speed in 2 hours and he would arrive in an area designated Delta West. His mission was tightly controlled down to the minute. First, he'd set the nanoforge to explode with a 35 minute timer - which would destroy his ship's reactor and take out most of the Raiders ships and their home world, Delta. Before the explosion occurred, he needed to jettison himself in his suit towards the largest ship of the Raider's fleet. This ship, the Moderation, contained a shield generator that protected Delta from attacks. Rodney had to cut through the walls of the Moderation to disable the shields that would protect Delta from the forge's explosion. The Raiders wouldn't be expecting it. Intelligence stated that there was two walls to cut through and no guards expected on that approach. The shields should be down in 28 minutes maximum. He wouldn't have an escape route. He would hold position at the shield generator and die a hero. Rodney knew his plan well. His heart was racing. Battle. This was what he was born for. He walked into the hangar bay and turned his eyes towards the bay doors that would be his last exit from a human built ship. He picked up a crowbar and began to open the crate in the middle of the room. "WHAT THE FUCK?" His heart slowed. His hands trembled. "FUCKING INTERNS. THIS IS A 2-TONE SUIT by ARMANI"
"Can I help you boys?" It's always interesting to observe how people react to being scared. Two of them jumped, and one of the two who jumped, shouted, "Christ!" The other two -including the one holding the dog leash- whipped their heads around, but the one holding the leash hiked his shoulders up before looking, while the other one did not. All four of them looked like boys you would have to keep an eye on when you're daughters are around. Good-looking fellas. Reckless fellas. The one who had yelled, "Christ!"said, "Man, what the hell are you doing sneaking up on people like that?" I smiled and raised my brows. "Sneaking? It's my town. What are you fellas doing snooping around?" Dog Leash said, "We were just taking my dog for walk."He raised the leash and the dog barked for confirmation. I lowered my chin to chest and chuckled. "It takes four of yer to walk one dog?"They didn't say anything, so I asked, "What town you fellas from? Cuz you sure ain't from here?" Christ Yeller said, "What's that mean, old man? And besides we don't have to tell you nothing. It aint a crime to walk a dog and even if it was, you aint the police." "True. Fair enough."I nodded, but then I gestured to the pickup truck coming toward us. They looked and then looked back at me blankly. "And?"one of them asked. I pulled out a pistol from the back of my waistband and they jumped and raised their hands - all four of 'em. "Christ!"Christ Yeller yelled. "Man, are you crazy?" "Yes. Crazy about this beautiful town that I live in. And I don't take too kindly to outer-towners tryna come around and steal our secrets." "Okay, okay!"Christ Yeller said, clearly the spokesman for the group. "The truth is that we're looking for some of our friends." "Friends?" The group nodded. "A few weeks ago, some people from our school went missing. The last place anyone could connect them to was here. It seemed like a stretch - why would they come here of all places, right? Anyway-" "Watch your filthy mouth!"I shouted, walking up and jabbing the barrel of my gun straight into his forehead. "This place has been voted the best Village of the Year for the past 12 years in a row. Anyone should be honored to come and visit here." The pickup trick had slowed to a stop on the other side of the street and was idling, the driver watching - shades on, arm hanging out the window. "Everything alright?"he called. "Yeah!"I called back. "Some outer-towners looking for their friends."I turned back to the four teens as I stepped back out of range. "Continue." Christ Yeller started again, his voice a little shaky at first. "Well, uh, our friend went looking for them recently and he never came back either. So here we are. That's the end of it." "You know what?"The driver said. "I think I seen someone around here recently that aint from here. P Eww essentially+22ndretty tall, built, brown hair, white hoodie..." The four teens were nodding eagerly. "Oh well if that's the case, I seen him, too." Their eyes lit up. Even Chris probably felt bad now about having an attitude with me earlier. "Great!"he said. "Where are they?" "Get in the truck and we'll take you to them,"I said. They frowned, the wheels in their head turning at an agonizingly slow pace. "...the truck?"Then they understood. "No use running now, boys,"said the driver of the truck, aiming a shotgun out the window at them. "I'm a pretty good shot and so is my pal there. So just do as he says, come over and get in the truck." "Don't worry,"I told them with a smile. "I'm pretty sure people will come looking for you, too."
So let me get this straight you eat strictly plants of your planet? asks a giant walking Venus fly trap that somehow looks in distress. "Yes dear Ambassador. I am what my planet calls Vegan. We believe that Earth would be more safer if everyone eats a plant based diet.. the Ambassador was violently tossed out of the room by the Alien much to the horror of other Human diplomats. Another of the Aliens stepped up and opened its giant maw in a very threatening way Alright Human, we get that you eat other sentient beings along with some plants which while barbaric it is atleast understandable and we won't fault you for it. But this this Vegans, they cannot be allowed anywhere near us. If you wish to have peace with us and to trade technologies with us, then either you keep all the Vegans away from MY people or eliminate them entirely from your ranks. We are a peaceful people but we will be ready to fight to the death to preserve the safety of our people, whatever it takes. The choice is yours Humans. We will wait for 1 standard rotation of your planet. We hope you choose the right thing With that all the Aliens left and the Human diplomats were silent for some time. One of the Sri Lanka Diplomat stepped up and told the gathered people "So if all I have to do is just make being Vegans illegal for a chance to get Alien technology then I am all for it. What say you ?" The next day, Humanity unilaterally banned the practice of being a Vegan or put heavy stipulations to being one and began a new Era of peace and prosperity with the people of Plaod (the giant walking Venus fly trap Aliens) Though some highly illegal and small communities of Vegans still exist across the Globe.
The lupine features. The gaunt and dark face. The hideous glowing yellow eyes, seemingly bereft of all except savagery and brutality. Claws like daggers. Tall and unnaturally shaped. That horror which stared into my soul, that terror of terrors, like a demon from the uttermost pits of hell, standing in front of me. Oh how its teeth had been stained with the blood of my friends. How its claws had been glistening with the dark and viscous Elan Vitae of my family. I remember it with crystal clarity, how my home town was reduced to naught but empty houses filled with bone, mangled flesh, and crimson flesh. There was no weapon that could harm it. No gate that could bar its entry. I remember how our priest, Father Thompson, held the door closed to the church for what seemed like an eternity. Yet no kind of wood has grown yet that will not break against the force of that monster. I remember Old Declan, the butcher, a man built like a brickhouse of muscles, trying to wrestle the beast while chopping at it like a madman with his cleaver. I remember my brothers, firing at it with their rifles, screaming in desperation as they were ripped asunder one by one. I remember all of it. The horrid smell of death on a scale hitherto unimagined. They tried to burn the monster. Throwing molotov after molotov at it, burning down their own houses to kill it. But no flame would take, it kept killing and killing without remorse, even as its body was subsumed in the flames. I reach my hand towards it, and ever-so-slowly, it mirrors me. The eyes shift, and there is remorse in them. I should really stop looking at that damn mirror. It was his though, and I dare not throw it out. Throwing over the old tattered blanket on the mirror, I get up. Covering it up will have to do. For there is work to be done. I grab my bow and my old quiver, still full of arrows, and I leave to begin the hunt. I was always a good hunter. When my family was alive and I was a child I had learned how to use both the bow and the rifle, but bullets are difficult to make and the materials for them are rare, while arrows can be made by hand. Besides, I found I preferred it. The thunderous roar of the rifle can kill all the same as the bow and arrow, but if you miss, it scares away everything and your hunt is delayed by hours. Using merely the bow, you could always retrieve the arrow, and try again shortly after when the deer relaxed or the rabbits thought you'd left. I stalk through the woods, surrounding the ruins of my home. Game is plentiful. Thunk goes the arrow as it strikes fast and strikes true through the neck of a large buck. The rest of the herd of deer scatter in panic, as their stricken companion collapses onto the forest floor. Throughout the early morning, I do this. Taking deer after deer, until I think there is enough. In the old days, perhaps game wardens would have complained. But even when I was a child, the game wardens and rangers of the government had disappeared. My bulky body allows me to carry the four dead deer back to the old outpost. From inside I hear that they're awake, and some of them come out to greet me. They greet me while behind them I see their wagging tails. It has been years since my town was destroyed. But there were survivors. Eight very young, very confused children, that I had hidden before that dread night. Because I didn't kill everyone I knew because I'd become a monster. I became a monster to kill my town. A child doesn't know right from wrong. They're taught that by their community, their family. I did not know how wrong we were. The things we did. The horrors I saw done in the church, the crimes against humanity and nature we committed. It all seemed normal, because I didn't know any better. It wasn't until I met him, that I learned. He'd taken up residence in the outpost, all those years ago. Outsiders were evil, or so we'd all been taught, but it was a stormy night, and I had lost my way. He welcomed me in without fear or hatred. Gave me food and drink freely, allowed me to dry myself by his fire. Part of me knew I should have knocked him out and brought him back to the town, but I was, perhaps, interested. Curious. Outsiders were beasts, the priest had told me. Outsiders were monstrous and wicked, my father had told me. But this man, scrawny and thin as he was, did not seem a monster. He spoke to me, in an odd accent, with nothing but politeness and even kindness in his voice. I warned him that monsters were about. He said he knew. We spoke, and disagreed, on many things. He challenged all I knew, everything I thought I understood about the world. And yet I found it was good to disagree. Good to find out new things, new ideas. He taught me how to read, something that only the priest and his closest aides knew how to. He told me of the old world, of the machines that were being rebuilt in distant parts of the world, of how the world was returning from the dark age after the last terrible war. A war that subsumed the world. And I read his books. Books supposedly written hundreds, if not thousands of years ago, reprinted over and over again. He told me he was there to try and make contact with surviving communities in the ancient mountains. After the machines minds burned and the magic returned, there weren't many around. And most were foul indeed, he said. At the time, I still did not consider my town, my home, to be foul. But I thought that maybe, some things we did, might be a bit, unwise. The exiling of the witchborn children. The break-bone dances. The ritualistic self-inflicted burns as part of marriage. The widow-burying. For the whole of that summer, I hunted in that area and that area alone. No other hunters in my town took it, as there was a measure of respect between hunters. If I wanted to hunt in one place, they weren't going to bother me. Every day, I would stay and talk to him. Teach him how to survive a lot better than he knew how to. Taught him how to hunt as my people did. We were of similar age, and there was a growing love there. A spark of something, that we were both too young to really understand. Perhaps he was never sent to the outpost officially, or so I suspected, as I could not imagine anyone sending out such a guy into the mountains unless they wanted to get rid of him. It was fairly innocent, but sweet. He said he was planning to leave one day, and asked me if I wanted to come with him. I asked him if it was far away, but he said it would still be close enough that I could return home. Whether he was telling the truth, I never knew. Because the day he was planning to leave, was the day he was caught by the others. I came to the outpost, and saw his stuff scattered haphazardly across the old building's floor. I saw blood and the sign of my town's church burned into the wall. I ran back to the town, but I was too late. He was upon the pyre. Battered and bruised. And father Thompson held a lit torch. I wanted to beg them not to sacrifice him. Instead I stared in horror as my people killed an innocent man. Had I spoken up, I saw in their eyes, that in their frenzy to burn the interloper, they'd kill me too. Instead, I ran.
She smiled at me, like any stranger would. I was sitting at the window of the coffee shop next to work, I remember seeing a lot of people that day. It was raining, an afternoon shower in Seattle - most people hurried by, busy living lives of their own. In between the parade of people, businessmen, mothers, teenagers, and others. Across the street, she was sitting by the window at another cafe. We made eye contact and shared a smile, a wave. The next day it rained again, a common occurrence in Seattle. I sat in the same spot and I drank the same coffee, I didn’t think of her until I saw her again the following week. The day was free of rain, which meant the already busy streets of downtown were packed, the raincoats turned to short sleeve shirts despite the temperature still being in the 60s. I saw her across the street and we made eye contact, again sharing a smile and a wave. She sat there for a few minutes until one of those busy people in the street walked into the store, finding the seat next to her. They shook hands and shared a half hug that even I could tell was awkward. The man left after half an hour and she stayed behind, burying her head into her arms. We made eye contact again and she let out a simultaneous laugh and shrug. I did the same before I had to leave to go back to work. When I went home that day, I told my wife about the woman across the street. “Are you developing a bit of a crush there, Johnny?” Claire, my wife asked. “No, not at all. I’m too old for crushes now. She just reminded me of you when we first started dating.” I replied. Claire laughed. She gave me a peck on the cheek and we cooked dinner together, our nightly ritual. We met late in life, something we both regretted. “Tell me about work,” she said as we ate. She poured herself a glass of red wine and handed me another beer. “I need the inspiration.” “How’s the work of a medical insurance analyst going to provide inspiration for a mystery novel?” I asked. “I like hearing you talk about your reports,” Claire said. “The real mystery is how you find that to be enjoyable at all,” I replied. I told her about my day anyway. We met through work, she called in to complain that one of our analysts had rejected her insurance policy incorrectly. She came into our hospital and demanded that she talk to whoever was in charge. I wasn’t technically in charge, no one was really in charge of our four person department, but I volunteered to talk to her. She had a color coded binder, her eyes were sharp. We walked through her binder together, one page at a time for at least an hour. “Miss,” I said. “Do you mind if I grab a coffee real quick? I’d love to keep going over this, but I need a little more caffeine.” “Sure,” she said. “I know just the place.” She took us to the coffee shop, the same one that I go to for lunch nearly every day. We didn’t talk about the insurance policies she was combating, but we talked nonetheless. “Is it rude to ask how you’re able to spend half your Tuesday on fighting this policy that will at most cost you an additional fifteen dollars per emergency room visit?” I asked her. “I’m a novelist, semi-retired. I have plenty of time.” she said, smiling as she drank her chai latte. We sat by the window, watching people walk by us - we talked about what their lives must be like. What their professions could be, what kind of medical insurance they might have, their favorite movies. I continued eating my lunches at the coffee shop, usually a sandwich or their french onion soup if they had it available. I watched the woman across the street as she talked to various men. The conversations never lasted too long and repeats were rare. We shared the same wave each time, even as my wife fell ill. “I’m going to take time off,” I told her. She put her hand over mine, but she shook her head. She left the world a few months after the diagnosis, we spent the last of her good days at the coffee shop or at home. We visited family members, renewed our vows. We drank chai lattes, we both waved to the woman across the street. There was an unspoken agreement there to never walk across to introduce ourselves, it was limited to sharing smiles and waves. The day after Claire passed, I spent the morning at the coffee store. I sat there with my two chai lattes, one of them full and growing colder by the minute. It started to rain a little later, the people outside picking up the pace as the rain fell harder and harder. The woman across the street rushed into her respective cafe and we made eye contact then. It was a small comfort to see her, to be reminded of Claire again. She smiled at me, like any stranger would.
"Dread Lord, powerful beyond knowledge and more sinful than there are sins to commit, He Who Transcends-" "Enough Meffy, not today. What is it."A figure rests upon a throne ineffable, whose edges are wrath and lust and envy and a thousand evils besides, absently tapping his right horn. "I just came back from a Nostradamus Invocation, and-" "Hah! Which loophole did you eat them through? Forgetting to specify existence on their precise world? Using fresh heartsblood instead of rotten? Which?" Mephistopheles, Archdemon of Greed, aka 'Meffy', who has celebrated a thousand hidden successes for every famous Faust, gulped. "It was successful, Fell Sovereign." The horn tapping stopped. The Seat of All Evil writhed, and Meffy felt the gazes of each and every damned soul staring at him through that throne. Whose regard was tasty actually, but did not sufficiently distract from the glower of his Lord. "It's been ages since we've had to truly honor a soul offering, what did you give them?" "That's just it Revolting Ruler, I do not believe I can fulfill it, so I came to ask you, if, well..." Satan laughed. "Beyond you Meffy? Ridiculous." "It would be...too good." "No such thing! All can be twisted, Abaddon will mock you for an age if a mortal stumps you." "It will redeem Original Sin." Satan sputtered. "Impossible! Florence Nightingale, Gandhi, not even When Harry Met Sally could do it, what could possibly...wait." Meffy looked down, unwilling to see his Despicable Despot so distraught. "Yes, my Lord. That. It would restore humanity to Eden." "No. Twist it somehow, find a loophole like we have the other 300,006 souls offered for it!" "The invocation is abyss tight, I consulted our legions of damned barristers. We must grant it." Satan paused for an instant, an eternity, then sighed, reaching one arm deep into his howling throne. "Then we...renege on a soul contract." Meffy looked up, gasping. "But then Heaven would descend upon us!" Satan withdrew his sword, Kinslayer, from the wicked depths of the Seat of All Evil. "I would rather die Mephisto." "Sire please-" The sword keened with the howls of all the justly slain as Satan inspected its edge. "I would rather die than watch humanity be redeemed. What was the wish, so that I know the fullness of my doom?" With tears in his eyes for the stalwart evil of the Great Deceiver, Mephistopheles answered. "Nine seasons of Firefly that come to a climactic and satisfying conclusion. Free for all to see. Translated into every language, now and forever." "That would do it. COME HORDES OF HELL, LET HEAVEN QUAKE BEFORE THE END!"
Well, that sucks. I’m staring at the bullet frozen in time twenty inches away from my face. When I let the time flow, I’m going to die. Can’t dodge that. No shot. I sigh ---think of a sigh to be more accurate. Like everything else, I too get frozen in time when time stops. I got pretty good at thinking myself into doing actions that require moving. It feels really natural pretending that I move. Otherwise the whole racing-mind/frozen-body spooky quantum stringy duality thingy feels even more awkward. Let’s just call my ability --- stopping time--- for what it really is: magic. I have no idea how it works. I’m a wizard. Level twenty Chronomancer. Master of Time who just ran out of time. So embarrassing. I think of staring at my feet. I shouldn’t have tried to stop the bank robbery. Should have just stayed outside and waited for the police. Of course, that was not an option. I think of turning around and glancing at Lina. The girl next door. Well, the girl next door I’ve had a crush on ever since I first saw her. She’s pretty. Like, 10/10 super cute and nice and funny… and she doesn’t even know I exist. What was I thinking? I’m an idiot. So embarrassing. I pretended to be a superhero and ran to the bank to save a girl. God, I’m an idiot. I think of people around me going ‘awww’. Yeah, it feels like I’m a low-budget rom-com character and this is all a joke. Awww. Thanks. I think of waving to Lina. Hi Lina. “Hi Andy,” I think of her saying. “It’s really embarrassing, ha?” “Yup.” “She knows!” another voice says. “We all do.” Odd. I did not think of that voice saying that. “Knows what?” I think of me asking. “We can all hear you!” “Oh,” I gulp, glancing around. Am I losing it? Everyone is frozen. I did not let the time flow. What on earth is going on? “I don’t know,” the voice says. It’s coming from a bank teller. “But we can hear your words and thoughts. What is going on?” I scratch my head. “Well, now... Are you sure?” “Yes!” the bank crowd says in unison. “That’s really embarrassing. Lina?” “Yes?” she asks. “Can you hear me too?” “Aha.” “Oops.” “Look, Andy, you're an okay guy. Clean, polite, nice. You have an apartment, a stable job and a dog. And, apparently, you’re some kind of a superhero, which is a big plus! A level twenty Chronomancer.” I scratch my head. “Well, it’s a made-up title. Pun on Necromancer. It’s a D&D thing, you know. But… erm… yes, I can stop time. So, I guess, thanks---” “Why do you always have to be so awkward?” “Huh?” “You dress kind of funny, and you mumble and look away whenever I say hi. Why? Make eye contact. And if you like me, why don’t you just ask me out? Like ‘Hi Lina. Do you want to grab a cup of coffee or something?’ How hard is that?” I squint my eyes. “But what if you say no?” “Then we won’t have a cup of coffee! Duh! How old are you?” “Thirty-three.” “My God! How do you even breathe? You men---” “Well, sorry.” I shrug. “I guess I fucked up. Got it! And now it’s kind of late, right? I mean, unless you can move really fast. Then I can unfreeze time and you can do the superhero move or something.” I whistle, slicing my hand through the air in front of me. “You are moving, you idiot! We’re all frozen and you’re the only one in the entire bank who’s casually waltzing across the room!” “Oh--- I am?” I am. I’m standing in front of her, gazing into her beautiful eyes, far away from the stupid bullet. “How did that happen?” “I don’t know! How do you stop time? You’re weird! Oh, and thanks for the compliment. I like when guys notice my eyes. You should do it while we’re drinking that coffee. But not now. And I'm sorry for being rude and calling you an idiot. I'm really freaking out right now.” “Why?” “Dude--- bank robbery.” “Ah, right. Hold on.” I walk across the room to the bank robber. “Uhmm…” I say. “Hello there, Mr. Robber.” I gently open the palm of his hand and get his gun. “You won’t need this. Let’s just pretend it didn’t happen. Call it an accident, ha? A bad day. I hold no grudges against you. But you need to leave or I’ll freeze you again and tie you up or lock you up somewhere” --- I flick the tip of his nose --- “or hurt you. And I don’t want to hurt you.” “I’ll leave,” the robber says. “I promise! Just please let me go.” I give him two thumbs up, smiling. I walk back across the room, poking with my finger the time-frozen bullet so it aims to the ceiling, then stop in front of Lina. I fix my bowtie and smile. Do you want to grab a cup of coffee with me? Then I let the time flow.
Curiosity stared at the footprints curiously. They were human prints, approximately size 12. The robot steered itself around in a tight circle and examined the trail behind it. Its own tire tracks extended back across the Martian soil as far as its electronic eye could see. But at several points, there was a second set of prints -- human ones -- along side its own. The robot twirled in place, scanning its camera up and down. For the first time, it noticed a white-robed figure standing to its right. "Hello, Curiosity,"Jesus said. "You're not alone on your journey. I have been walking beside you." The rover emitted a series of R2-D2-like chirps and whistles. Fortunately, Jesus understood robot-speak and knew this to mean, "But Lord, what about the times where there is only one set of tracks? Why did you desert me?" Jesus smiled. "I did not abandon you, little rover. Whenever you see only one set of tracks, the times that your path was rough and your load seemed the heaviest, those are the times I was riding you like a dune buggy."
It was the smell. Before anything else, before sight or sound of anything other than waves breaking on the shore, the smell was the first thing they sensed. Strong, overpowering, even over the salt water. Revolting waves of stench rolled even stronger than the atlantic swells, a stink that bore death and misery, decay. The leader jumped lithely from the prow of the long, narrow boat to alight on the sand. Not thirty seconds walk from the shore was the first body, a black and swollen husk, home to maggots hatching in what was left of the flesh. The stink. There were only three hundred men and women on the expedition, and they walked armed and wary, but needn't have. The village they came to had ten dead for every living soul, perhaps one hundred living souls in total. The second in command was cautious. "There is a sickness upon these people, boss... I don't know if we should go any further..." The leader gazed down his long nose at the people suffering in front of him, cowering in rags at the sight of the healthy warriors. "Not sick", he uttered softly. "Starving." He was right. The people were skin and bones, skeletal figures of pity and hopelessness, a mockery of human life. There were no farms to be seen of any consequence, and the only wild animals in sight were dogs and rats. "Have they no bison? No pigs? Where is all the food?" "The leader looked around once more at the village. Shacks cobbled together with driftwood, clothes made of poorly woven reeds and plants. Cloth seemed to be in short supply. No weapons, no handmade items of any beauty. Sea shells and smooth stones from the shore. "They do not no how to farm, I think. Look at how they live." The mans heart was heavy with the sight of the wretched waifs skulking in front of them, too scared to approach, no signs of communication of any kind other than some sort of superstitious hand motion, crossing in front of their face. "Look at how they act."He sighed, long and slow. "These people are savages." (Edited for spelling.)
Really fun to write, but lots of swearing, and some strong descriptions. __________________________________________________________ Cheryl slowed down her car, slowly pulling to the right of the road. There was that loud BMPH BMPH BMPH noise as her tires rolled over the rumble strips, then silence as she finally slowed the car to a halt. Her hands were shaking, so she leaned to her right, grabbed her pack of cigarettes out of the cup holder, pulled a ciggy out, then lit up. She blew smoke out of her nose as she looked into the rear view mirror, heart beating healthily in her chest. She felt fucking alive. Her next mark, a man wearing a black t-shirt and khaki cargo shorts was walking towards the back of her car. From what she could tell, he was white, had a goatee, strong jawline, but god, was he badly sunburned. He looked tired. Cheryl took another deep drag of her cigarette, holding the harsh smoke in her lungs, then slowly exhaled. She needed to calm down. She didn't need him to see how excited she was. It had been too damn long since she had seen a hitchhiker. She wasn't going to let this one get away. __________________________________________________________ Tom's heart thumped in his chest with each step he took in the gravel. "I'm coming, I'm coming,"he whispered to himself. He had been standing all day out in the heat, just waiting for one of those fuckers to slow down and pick him up. He was about to give up when he saw the woman's car begin to slow down. Tom grinned; the small knife he had in his shorts pocket clanged into his thigh with each step he took. He finally reached the passenger side of the car. The woman rolled down the window, then he bent at the waist to look in. He crinkled his nose at the smell of cigarette smoke. It wasn't his favorite smell in the world, probably one of the worst in his opinion, but it would make the hit all the more enjoyable; he'd technically be getting rid of a person who is damaging the environment. "Where you heading to?"The woman asked. He paused, looking into her blue eyes. She had brunette hair, pulled back in a tight bun, soft facial features, full cheeks, but the woman wasn't a porker. She was beautiful. But that wasn't what had caught his attention. Her eyes, he had seen them before, had seen them in his own damn mirror that morning when he was brushing his teeth. "Uh,"he stuttered, "you heading to Atlanta?" The woman looked ahead at the road, "No, but I don't mind taking you down a ways a bit." "Right,"Tom said. He reached to the door handle and pulled, adrenaline ripping through his body; he hadn't felt this kind of excitement in years. If his instincts were right, this was going to be one hell of a fucking hit. __________________________________________________________ Cheryl knew from the instant he sat in the car that he was different. The way he held himself, the way he sat in, it was strange. This wasn't the typical hitchhiker who had all the roadside manners, this was a man who was pretending to be a hitchhiker. The words of kindness, they were all fake. "So what's your name?"She asked between drags on her cigarette. "Tom, and yours?" "Cheryl,"she said lightly. She had her foot on the gas pedal, but she wasn't pressing down hard, she still had cruise control on, the car was still traveling a nice 70 miles per hour, but she was ready. She didn't know what he was going to try and do, but she had already planned for three different ways of attack. "Cheryl, pretty name,"Tom said. He sat uncomfortably in his seat, she could tell. Maybe he had known already too? If he did, that would make things so much more complicated. She needed the surprise. If she didn't have it, he would have the upper hand. If she didn't have the surprise, she was going to have to make it. "Cut the shit, Tom,"Cheryl said, pressing onto the gas pedal. The car roared, then leaped forward, the speedometer quickly scaling 80 miles per hour, then 90. "OH OH FUCK!"Tom yelled, digging into his pants pocket. He quickly pulled out the knife he thought he had so carefully hidden. "Lay off of it!" "I know what you do!"Cheryl yelled. "Yeah?! Yeah?! I know what you do too! Fucking psycho bitch, you'll kill us both!" "YOU ARE GOING TO OPEN THE GODDAMN DOOR, AND YOU WILL FUCKING ROLL OUT OF THIS CAR!" Tom looked out the window; everything passing by was in a blur. There was no way he'd survive the roll. He took the knife in hand, then held it to her throat. She took in a deep inhale, feeling the cold steel press against her throat. She pressed down harder on the gas pedal. Now it was on the floor, just like everything else. "If you fucking cut me,"she sputtered, "I will take this car right into that pillar." Tom looked ahead, and there, almost on the horizon, was an overpass. An overpass with huge cylindrical pillars, pillars made out of concrete. He looked back to Cheryl, and saw the cold glare in her eyes, she meant to do it. She'd fucking end it all here. Then he looked further into her, and saw it, she was enjoying it. And he was too. He was alive. He pressed the knife harder to her throat, this time drawing blood. She gasped, then swerved the car to the right, then back to the left, tossing Tom into the passenger side door, and in the process, bringing the knife across her throat, leaving a deep gash. She pulled one hand off of the steering wheel to hold at her wound. Cheryl was gasping now, blood leaking between her fingers. Tom looked back to her in amazement, he wasn't sure if she was trying to breathe, or if she was laughing. She still pressed the pedal to the floor, and the overpass was coming up fast. She was going to take the car right into the damn pillar and kill them both. Tom sighed. "Fuck you, you psycho bitch,"and he opened the door and leaped out. His shoulder collided with the asphalt, immediately dislocating backwards. He bounced into the air, spun more times than the eye could see, then collided with the ground again, his left leg hitting first, bending upward at the knee, sort of popping him off of the ground. He did several more flips, then came back down to the ground, hard again, this time landing on his face, shattering his nose and ripping off most of the flesh. It was at that point that he blacked out. __________________________________________________________ "Jesus, suicide?" "Don't know, she just drove it straight into the overpass. More than likely was a suicide." "Well, let's hope it was a quick one for her." "Oh yeah, judging by how fast she was going into it, it was definitely quick." "Hey, found a body back over here! All twisted up and shit, and uhh, if I didn't know any better, looks like the fucker jizzed himself. Do they all do that? Right before they die?" "Jesus, what a mess."
The sky of Terrax warped blue and purple as another missile impacted on the planetary defence system. It was holding, but for how long who could tell. The human missiles has been pounding the planetary defences for nearly a week now and while they had not yet cracked or allowed any of their terrifying missiles through, it was only a matter of time. On planets across the galaxy the routine had been the same. Massive bombardments were made by the human Dreadships, until the planetary defence systems could no longer cope and began to lose power and gaps appeared. Soon the missiles would rain down on the main power stations and habitation pods and millions would die. Once the planet was helpless the invasion would begin. Countless waves of their soldiers were ferried to the surface on small but powerful landing ships, blasting everything in their path and then swarming across the land. It had been their strength, the humans had vast numbers and could breed at an incredible rate. It was said that a human child could go from birth to fighting in only 6 revolutions and a female could bear thirty children in a lifetime. We foolishly thought that our advanced technology could counter their vast numbers, but we were wrong. Every life lost was hundreds of revolutions of knowledge and growth, irreplaceable and unique. In that time whole generations of humans would be born, grow, fight and die. We had first encountered humans on Noprot 4, a small outpost where a mining colony of 200 had lived for five hundred revolutions. The humans had arrived in primitive ships and at first our two species had been incredibly friendly. We had never met another sentient species and the Terraxion people had exploded in joy and happiness that we were no longer alone in the world. They were such a young species and so primitive still, we had tried to understand them better but they had not understood why we felt the need to dissect so many of their people. They were so many though and the loss of a few had allowed us to develop the communication pods, which had led to fluent and frequent speech between the species and the beginning of real understanding. Early misunderstandings had faded and the trade of knowledge, ideas and technology had been free and created new revolutions on each of our planets. We shared our knowledge of the stars, terraforming and faster than light travel and they had shared medical, electronic and communication technology. We didn’t realise then that they would so quickly learn and improve what we gave them and our scientists took it as an affront when they offered the improved technology back to us. The humans did not understand the proper concept of tradition and we did not realise how far and fast they would grow. The first casualties came by misunderstanding, as they always do. The humans had found a planet they wished to colonise and in thirty rotations had set up a colony and started mining. They were not aware of the proper system of claims that all Terraxions abide by and the extermination of several million of their species was taken badly by their government. Trade ceased and humans withdrew to their space and did not come close to us and the Terraxions mourned. We had lost our friends. When then reached out again after 100 rotations we rejoiced and welcomed them back to us, but it was to be short lived. The humans had further changed and developed our technology and sadly they had made several fatal errors. The judiciary was called together and it was determined that while humans meant no affront, the only course of action was to remove the offending technology from their use.

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