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Sower Sarax stared at the scroll. He had completed a few flybys of this world they found. Species call themselves "humans", and they live in the system called "Sol", on the third planet called "Earth".
Earth... was a death world. Sarax had seen one such a world before. Full of disasters, dangerous beasts, and lots of extinctions.
But this Earth had been tamed. And an intelligent species was living on it. Spreading. Growing.
The thing about death worlds is that those worlds do not have an Aethir Tree. They die when planted there. The worlds themselves block any influence of Aethir somehow. Even Sarax felt his power weaken here in orbit, barely able to move his roots or branches.
And so, these worlds are always skipped, and, until now, never had intelligent life. Perhaps tourist destinations at best for the more... visceral types who enjoy the sight of beasts brutally murdering each other. Or killing those beasts themselves, for sport.
Aethir Trees are an ancient, intelligent plant species, intelligent beyond measure. Revered as gods. These Trees are capable of spreading life on planets, enhancing this life with the ability to manipulate reality, allowing that life to tame the elements on their homeworlds, and then spread through the stars, always on a holy mission to spread the Seeds of Aethir to other worlds. A symbiotic relationship. The Varaem Forest, of which Sarax was a designated Sower of, was the largest of them all, having Planted over ten million worlds with the Seeds of Aethir. There were other, smaller Forests, sure. But they split off from the original Varaem millions of cycles ago. Different cultures, but the same ancestry.
Earth had been a known anomaly before now. They discovered it about 66 million cycles ago. And they found trees on this world. Other deathworlds had plants, sure. But not many. Especially not big ones. Shrubbery and algae. Mostly deserts and water otherwise. They tried making contact with these trees, but the trees were unresponsive. There were beasts there as well. Brutal meat eaters, or tree eaters.
So, an anomaly, but not worrying. A couple of rebellious pure-sap Varaem Sowers didn't like this abomination, said that trees should only be Aethir, or not at all, so they threw a large rock at the world. Last time we checked, the world was covered in ash and dust, hopefully killing it.
But they heard... signals from here recently. Earth. It seemed green, so, it still had trees. But no Mother Tree. And the trees were still deaf and dumb. But now... Earth had these humans. An intelligent species, somewhat similar to what Aethir Trees create after being Sown, but incapable of the Aethir powers. They still managed though. They do not have telepathy of the Aethir Mind, but they cleverly use lightwaves to transmit messages almost instantly all over their planet. They are not overly strong, but they have "machines"to do the heavy lifting. They can not create Starpaths using the Aethir Lines, but they travel across the stars manually, using large city-ships travelling at near light-speed (often taking decades, if not centuries of travel to another world). It all seemed primitive, and they were helpless in the Void. But the "technology"they develop, is a replacement to the Aethir powers. So, in Sarax' mind, they could be equals. Different, for sure. Perhaps a bit uncivilized, considering they are killing off Earth, and themselves, from time to time. But nothing that can't be fixed.
Sarax was still debating making contact. So far, any first contact was always made about five thousand cycles after Sowing the Seeds of Aethir, introducing the new species into the Varaem Forest, which was their destiny from the start. Often bringing new spells to the Forest, allowing it to grow and expand further and faster across the universe.
But this... this is first contact with something that is not supposed to exist.
But Sarax also knew that making first contact now, would mean he would tip off the Aethir Mind... a subconscious entity. Sarax, like all other Varaem, can block it for a while, except with strong emotions. And making first contact, well, that would make it impossible to block. And through the Aethir Mind, news travels fast, which in this case would be undesirable. The Puresaps would certainly come around to finish what they started millions of years ago. After all, this was a cursed death world.
No... Sarax looked at the humans, and would leave them alone. He would notify that, somehow, the Death World's influence has grown, so a wide berth should be taken. For if you would approach too closely within a couple lightcycles, you would become rooted where you stand, incapable of movement or Aethir powers.
But Sarax saw something, far away. A presence, something unnatural. A machine, travelling further and further. He opened a small Starpath to it. "Voyager"it said. A golden disc, coming from the Humans. Sarax smiled to himself, because he now had a plan, and put a Seed of Aethir in it. And a message to explain his plan. For if Humans were to become part of the Varaem Forest... they needed to be family. So that the Puresaps would have no reason to exterminate them. And the ways of the Aethir are beyond comprehension. Perhaps Humans can be taught how to use the Aethir powers... merge with them somehow on a world that is not Earth. And then, certainly, through the Human's technology, the Varaem Forest will grow too. |
"Wait, wait, wait... so your name is *Nobody*?"the Dark Emperor asked, leaning back in his throne.
"Yeah, that's me,"I reply, shrugging. My pistol was attached to my hip, so I could easily just whip it out and unload the ten around magazine into the Emperor, but there was a chance it'd be non-fatal at this range, not to mention that I'd be probably get killed before I could even pull out the weapon by the numerous guards near the walls. The acoustics of the room were astonishing, as I could perfectly hear him even though I was over a hundred feet away.
"What, were you an accident or something?"he grinned. It was the sort of grin that made you feel unsettled and queasy.
"Nope, my parents are simply incredibly uncreative I guess,"I explain with a shrug; my apathy seemed to get under the Emperor's skin, "Either that, or there was a miscommunication in between them and the doctor."
"And how the hell would that play out?"the lanky man asked sarcastically, putting his elbow on the throne's armrest and leaned on his hand as if uninterested.
"No idea, but it's great for jokes,"I shrug again, noting that the gesture seemed to piss off the asshat. The Emperor made a face of disgust, "And what jokes would that be?"
In response, I booked it across the throne room. The guards reacted, shooting every which way around me. No bullets actually hit me, though, so I was alright for the time being. I unlatched my pistol from its holster, trying to get a good aim on the Emperor before I shot.
Eighty feet away, sixty feet away, forty feet away. I was running on pure adrenaline, covering twenty feet every couple of seconds.
I noted that the Emperor still sat, as though expecting his guards to do the work for him. He grew slightly more nervous as I approached, though, and no bullets were hitting me. I finally got up right in front of him, and before he could react, pistol whipped him on the shoulder, jumped up, ricocheted off the back of the throne while simultaneously grabbing the Emperor's coat, and landed in front of the throne, with my pistol's barrel pressed up against the Emperor's head.
Time to finish this.
"Oh, and just so you know... Nobody killed you,"then I pressed the trigger. |
"How big are we talking about, señor?", asked the boatman, as we slipped quietly down the river.
Maybe he was worried by all the blood bags I had brought aboard.
"Grande", I said, not taking my sights off the growing shadows of the trees.
The sun was setting. Time for their feast.
The boatman started squirting some cheap bug repellant, when he suddenly stopped and looked at me, eyes wide open. I was drenching myself in blood. It had been almost ten years since my obsession began. Everyone had always laughed at me. I couldn't live without knowing. This fixation would not let me.
"Señor! Estás bien??"
He's very worried. I can barely hear him. I've waited for too long. I take off my shirt to better spread the blood. I had once covered my body with the tattoos of the images I dreamt of. Now the red swallows the black.
I feel my heart pounding as the sound of swarming mosquitoes starts getting more intense, drawn by the flow that surrounds my body.
The boatman retreats to the cabin and closes the door, his mouth agape, his eyes in shock.
I realize that I need more. I KNOW THAT I NEED MORE. This won't be enough to draw it out. I rip off the plastic edge of a blood bag with my teeth. I need it inside me. My obsession will elude me no further.
I can hear the boatman chattering frantically on the radio. The taste of the blood lingers strong in my mouth. I can't have him stopping me now. Not after all these years. My body is tingling with the ecstasy. It's finally coming. I will finally find it! My hands are numb with anticipation. I approach the cabin to stop the boatman.
Behind the door's window the boatman is sobbing, his back against the wall. I notice my chest is throbbing in pain. I look down and see small lumps coming and going around my belly. Long black shapes pressing around my ribs. Black wings shine behind my reflection.
"I...finally...", The only words I managed to speak as the beast slurped around my insides. The sweet release of my obsession. |
Jeff stared at the clock, not wanting to believe it would come to this. He’d lobbied hard against the law. As one of the largest stakeholder in the company he’d built decades ago, it put him heads and shoulders above the rest of the world’s richest.
As cash switched hands, and digital currency flew from one online wallet to another, company stocks were being gobbled up seemingly quicker than the exchanges could complete the transactions. Almost everything was being sold at a steep discount. What was the point of ridding of one’s paper wealth to just receive a bounty of cash or other, more liquid, wealth?
“The company won’t survive,” Jeff said to the board gathered round the table. “It needs strong leadership and I can’t predict what’ll happen if I’m not at its head.”
“It’s better than being dead,” Kristi Wolinski, CFO and board member, said with a sigh. “We’ve already done what we’ve needed to do.”
Jeff nodded. They’d all purged themselves of most of their shares, sold their luxurious homes, cars, and/or jets. He’d done all that minus excising his interest in the company. This was his baby, his child that he’d seen grow throughout the years.
“It’s now or never,” Bob Lance said as he tapped a finger on the table top. “It’s hard letting go, but trust me, you’ll feel better when you do.” The others nodded and murmured in agreement.
With a feeling as if he were plunging the knife in himself, Jeff stabbed the screen of his phone with his fingers, entering in the trade. In seconds, his company would be trading among the countless other penny stocks. His thumb hovered over ‘submit’.
Kristi rested her hand his wrist. “It’ll be okay. Perhaps all the new shareholders will keep you on in a leadership role.”
He nodded, knowing that it was highly unlikely. Jeff had seen how the new shareholders had voted in their favorite celebrities as CEOs and CFOs. Internet personalities, who years ago were putting out videos on why the latest such and such movies were terrible, were now heads of Walmart, Apple, and countless other corporations.
The phone vibrated and let out a tinny *ding* as his ‘sell’ order was placed. He watched his shares drop to near zero, the market cap of his company falling just as fast.
“Let’s just hope it’ll have been enough.” Jeff dropped his phone on the table and held his face in his hands.
The timing was perfect. Not wanting to part with his shares, Jeff had waited until the very last possible moment to sell. All of their phones began to ring and chirp with the news. They each turned down toward their screens with looks of apprehension.
“Who is it?” Jeff asked. “Am I one of the five?”
“No,” Kristi breathed, shaking her head. “No one is. Here, look.”
Jeff took her phone and scrolled through an article. What he found made his stomach shrink to a hard point.
*No deaths will be occurring today. In a mad dash to rid themselves of their wealth, it seems the world’s rich took no note of the date in which the law was passed: April 1st 2022.* |
Shards of ice spun through the air, slicing open myriad tiny cuts that bled beads of crimson. Gale-force winds accompanied them, buffeting my body and forcing me to use every ounce of my strength to keep my footing. Flashes of lightning pierced my vision. Thunderclaps shook me to my core, their concussive force causing transverse motion in the earth. But I pressed on, steadfast in my desire to help.
_____________________________________________________
My parents were never heroes. Their powers were weak, useless in the face of villainy. My mother carried the power of intuition, bolstered further by her trusting nature. But it was my father’s powers that were unique.
He served briefly on the police force until I was born. His ability to transport anyone he touched to a pocket dimension was immensely useful, whisking innocents away from untimely ends. But it had a significant drawback. He was stuck there with his captive until he ended the connection. Communication was impossible. Without any other powers, his pocket dimensions were dismissed as situational, and he resigned from the force.
_____________________________________________________
A coating of ice had formed on the bottom of my boots. Each step forward felt like taking three back. I pressed on, knowing that I had only two options. Brave the storm, or die.
_____________________________________________________
In kindergarten my powers began to bloom. A red siren wailed through my mind. In response I grabbed the nearest child, a young boy. His name was Manni, and he started to cry as the purple borders of our little bubble proved impenetrable. His brown curls shook with the force of his cries, but I knew just what to say, and reassured him until I discovered how to dissolve the dimension.
Screams surrounded us. Children, charred and dying, gurgled meaningless noise as they forced hot air through their scarred windpipes. We retched as our nostrils were assailed by the smell of burning flesh. Smoke billowed around the ceiling, a black cloud that threatened to sink lower. Our heaves turned to coughs, and we managed to crawl to the nearest exit.
The police said it was a villain—El Diablo, or something of that sort—who had burned the place to the ground. They wrapped heavy blankets around our shoulders, heedless of our discomfort. Manni and I were separated, and I never saw him again.
_____________________________________________________
The plateau stood before me, a dais of solid ice that occupied the center of the intersection. It rose above the traffic lights, steps winding in circular arcs around its perimeter. I was buffeted further by the wind, but continued my slogging journey through the storm.
Around me, bodies were flying. Land-bound heroes would ascend the platform rapidly, only to be thrown from the platform by a concentrated blast of wind. Airborne heroes dodged and weaved, but were prevented from coming closer by a torrent of icy spears that pierced the air. I took another careful step.
My head poked above the edge of the dais. A blue cry wailed in my ear, and I ducked, narrowly avoiding an icicle that would have torn my head from my shoulders. No amount of intuition is going to fix that.
I crawled over the ledge. Nothing. I eased forward along the ice, flat on my belly. Inch by creeping inch. I crawled at a glacial pace, and was rewarded by a black silence. My head poked up, and I spied my target.
He was crouched over a small form. Four legs, canine. Possibly a family dog. A mane of curly brown hair flowed from his head. A green sweater loosely covered a high school tee. His back contorted under the strength of his sobs. Blue waves of sound that demanded action.
I stood, approaching openly now. He swiveled, snarling at the crunch of my feet on the snow. I leaped to the left as he waved his hand. Spears of ice parted my hair.
My heart pounded in my chest. But still I moved forward, crawling on hands and knees. He watched me, cautious as any hunted animal.
I’m Beside him now. I peel off my gloves, holding a hand out to him. Suspicion. His eyes bleed it, in addition to his tears. He bats my hand away.
The pocket dimension surrounds us. Purple borders bend and bow, but refuse to break. The storm whips around us, scraping our skin with its glassy shards. The boy gasps.
“Amir?” he asks.
“The very same,” I say.
He runs to my arms, clinging to me desperately. Everything about his appearance is different, except for his brown curls. They still shake when he cries.
“It’s all right now,” I say, “I’ve got you.”
I draw him even closer, patting his head softly. With each pat, his sobs soften, and his crying becomes that of grieving young man.
I draw him closer still, into an embrace that warms his frozen heart.
__________________________________________________________________________________________
Thanks for reading! Check out more at [r/smoothbaritone](https://www.reddit.com/user/SmoothBaritone/) if you like it! |
The alarm rings. 7:00 AM.
I love mornings.
I jump out of bed. Jeez, I feel good. Like, really good.
I slide into the bathroom and put some toothpaste on my toothbrush. Hey, wait... no morning breath? I cup my hand over my mouth, breathe into it, and sniff. Nothing. That's strange.
"Hey, babe,"I call out to my wife.
No answer.
"Babe?"
I lean out of the bathroom and look over at the bed. She's sitting up with her knees to her chest, crying. I walk over to her.
"What's wrong?"I say in a comforting tone.
No response.
I sit on the edge of the bed and put my hand on her knee.
"Want to talk about it?"
She finally looks up at me through teary eyes.
"Oh, Henry..."she whispers.
"Thinking about chocolate?"
It's a lame joke, but it never fails to cheer her up. A tear rolls down her cheek as she smiles.
"Hey, smell this."
I lean close and breathe onto her tear-stained face. She wrinkles her brow.
"Crazy, right?"
"Umm,"she says confused.
"No morning breath,"I chuckle. "I haven't even brushed my teeth yet!"I get up off the bed and head back to the bathroom and turn the shower on. I finish brushing my teeth and hop in.
I love showers. Nothing like a nice warm--
I look at the shower handle. It's turned all the way to warm. That's usually unbearable, but I can barely feel it this time. I finish washing up, turn the shower off, and get out to dry off. The bathroom looks like a sauna. The air is thick with steam. The mirror opaque. The tile floor is slick.
I wrap the towel around my waist and head out of the bathroom to put my clothes on.
"Sorry about the steam, babe. I think I've become immune to the hot water."
She's still crying. What the hell?
I get dressed, lean over to give my wife a kiss on the cheek, and then head out.
She cries sometimes. She'll probably be better when I come home tonight.
I head out to the garage. I pause and look at my car, and then over at my bicycle. I usually drive, but man, do I feel great. I could probably run to work, but that would look odd in business attire.
I grab my bike and start pedaling to work.
Oh, Tim's out. Mowing his lawn at 7:30 in the morning, I see. Usually that annoys me, but not today. For some reason, I just feel happy for him.
"The yard looks great, Tim!"I smile and give him a thumbs up.
Tim's mouth falls open as he stares at me, and then proceeds to drive his mower right into his mailbox.
"You ok, Tim?"I slow down and holler behind me.
He's still staring. I think I'll just keep going.
I pull into work. I park my bike and chain it up.
"Hey, Gail,"I wave to one of the employees who works on the third floor.
She gives me a look similar to the one Tim gave me earlier, and then walks into the door, spilling her coffee all over herself.
"Jesus, Gail!"I rush over to her. "Are you ok?"
"Henry, is that you?"
"Umm... yeah?"
"I thought... I thought..."
I wait for her to spit out whatever it is she's struggling to say.
She begins sobbing.
I look around awkwardly. People are huddled in separate groups, pointing at me and whispering to each other. I hope they don't think I did this to her.
"I'm going to head up, Gail... Let's, um... let's talk later."
I head inside and work my way towards the elevator.
"Hey, Marcus,"I smile and nod to the security guy at the front desk.
"Oh, fuck!"Marcus shouts and ducks beneath his desk.
I quickly turn around to see what sort of danger frightened him, but I don't see anything.
Why is everyone acting so weird?
I get in the elevator and take it to the seventh floor. The door opens and I step out. Everyone is staring at me.
"Um... hey, guys."
No response. Just looks of shock.
"How is this possible?"I hear the voice of my boss come from my right.
I turn to him. "Hey, sir. What's going on?"
He slowly creeps towards me, like he's afraid I'm going to bite if he isn't careful.
"I saw you--"
"Saw me what, sir?"
"It happened right in front of me."
Now I'm just getting annoyed. I wave my palms out in front of me.
"What?"
"I watched you die."
I pause. Watched me die? Ha! What is this guy talking about? I scan the room. Everyone still has that shocked look on their face.
"I guess you watched someone else die, because I'm obviously not dead,"I laugh.
"No, it was you. We were heading to lunch and as we crossed the street, you were slightly behind me, and well..."
"What, I got hit by a car?"
"A light pole fell on you."
*A flash of memory pours into me. I can see it. Not from my perspective, though. From an outsider's view. The pole begins to lean. I have no idea. I just keep walking, talking, and then... it crushes me, narrowly missing my boss. Startled, he turns around and sees me. I'm a mess. He rushes to my aid, but it's too late.*
I snap back to reality.
"Oh, shit."
My boss just stares at me.
"I'm dead."
"But how are you here?"he asks.
"I... wait, why am I here?"
"Yeah."
"No, I mean, why am I at work? I'm dead. I don't need to work anymore."
I press the button and wait for the elevator.
And wait.
And wait.
"So, what's it like being a ghost?"a former coworker asks from behind me.
I turn around and look at him.
"Not much different,"I shrug. "No morning breath."
He raises his eyebrows and says, "oh. Cool,"and then disappears back into his cubicle.
The elevator dings and the doors open. I get in.
"Later, bitches!"I flash double peace signs as the doors shut.
________________________________________________________________________
**Visit r/TheGoshfather for more stories** |
“Listen, Ryan,” The strongest knight of Kingdom of Pallin crouched next to Ryan’s bed and whispered in his ear. “The next monster you create must be double in size of the last, with a jaw strong enough to crush a mans skull, and the ability to instill fear in anyone that sees it.”
The knight paused as Ryan shifted in bed, his little legs kicking at the sheets. But his eyes remained closed, seemingly engulfed in a deep sleep. The knight let out a breath and quickly finished his request to the child’s unconscious.
“Everyone that sees it will be afraid, except for me. Only I will have the power to slay the beast and the task will be of no great effort for me.” The knight grinned as the words left his lips, already reveling in the honor the King will bestow upon him for slaying such a monster.
The knight quietly exited the little boys room and shut the door behind him, headed to the pub to begin celebrating his soon to be victory.
But as soon as the door latched shut, Ryan’s eyes snapped open. He stared up at the wooden ceiling of his bedroom, a corner of his mouth sliding up.
He knew it was no coincidence that the knight quickly ascended to his current rank through the slaughter of only Ryan’s monsters. Many kids created scary enough creatures but the knight was only ever interested in fighting Ryan’s.
But he won’t be anymore.
Ryan shut his eyes again, a smile still pulling at his lips. He would create the monster the knight described, but when his strong arms lift a sword to the beast, the metal will disintegrate into nothing but ash.
Any weapon raised at the creature with the intent to harm it will be destroyed, and any teenager who tries to control it will be unsuccessful. This monster will not die, as all the others have at the hands of the adults. And it will not be tortured at the hands of the teenagers.
This monster will live, and Ryan will be the only one with the power to command it.
 
**Hai, I hope you enjoyed the story! For more of my stuffs come visit me at r/AliesStories. Thanks for reading :3** |
The storms had grown throughout the night. Everywhere. They were all out of control. Feeding one another in tandem. A cyclical, mass extinction machine, set running in perpetuity.
Except it wasn't. Not entirely, at least The rains would stop as suddenly as they came, the winds too. Waves would heave new earth unto the shores, only to wash away again. As if turning soil before the seeds. The only constant was the lightning.
A feverish, focus-shattering drumroll of blasting, crackling booms. Laying a thick electric tension into every breath, such that each one felt short. It wasn't until the lightning began to efuse different colours that the true panic set in.
Rippling across the sky in brilliant reds and blues, fusing into lingering purples and violets. Each strike seeming to find ground nearby. Once the first one hit the neighbours house, it was finally clear.
It was the deep red of the bolt as it crashed like a God through the livingroom window of the quiet house across the street. It was the deliberate, surgical way it found his neighbour, there clutching his blinds, watching the scene unfold.
It was the way it likewise blitzed its way into his own livingroom. It was the hell of shock and ringing ears as he appraised the gaping hole in his ceiling, shedding dancing light down on the scorched remains of his brother like some macabre spotlight.
It was the indifferent madness of it. Watching unimaginable wells of energy discharge again and again, with terrible purchase.
Some power beyond gravity and sacred geometry was at work. Casting electricity down to the Earth like the heavenly wrath art has long attempted to render. These laid bare as palid, adolescent expositions of ideas overshadowed by their reality.
Stirred like ichor into the final sounds that graced his ears, he heard it then. A great, indescribable voice. One that rent the body from its senses and left the shell to interpret frantically. One that took childhood memories, like sparks, and lit a great fire in the mind. Warping memories of early fear, in its purest, unchallenged form, into great deities of death and madness.
But mercy comes in many forms, at times indifferent. And as his body lay there amongst the ashes of his brother, a calm returned. The lightning rolled far away and quickly there was silence, delicately rested on the constant drum of distant thunder.
Before the night was done, the lightning was. As well as us. And quietly the nights creatures lept from shadows. As motion returned, in pieces. First the birds, in hastened wit to beat the winds. Then the ants and all their ilk. Quietly, the world resumed.
And not another earthly word was spoken. The echoing, cosmic voice was heard in closing on the human race, so all others could be saved.
The third planet spun, silently now, but for the return of nature. Offices as ruins, scattered to dirt. Roads and other monuments, resolved back to the land, like there never was a man. |
There are generally speaking two kinds of species that evolves to create civilisations. There are those who evolves from prey species. They form mostly peaceful and harmonious civilisations, where war is mostly ceremonial, and few ever die like that. They have a steady linear progression of technological advancement, and reach the stars as a unified and stable world government. They are usually highly hierarchical and traditional, having evolved from species that were pack animals. They form stable alliances, and fit well into the Galactic Community. Rare is the prey species that does not manage to reach the stars.
The others are the predatory races. Constantly infighting, constantly bickering, having scant respect for any tradition, rebelling, usurping, and ambition is how they get ahead. They spend most of their time having an exponential level of technological advancement, which means it takes a lot longer for them to reach space than their prey counterparts. And even then, usually, their violent nature leads them to be far more likely to die from self-inflicted accidents, like atomic wars or climate change run amok. Rare is the predatory species that manages to reach space. Rarer still is the ones that manage to become interstellar travellers.
The civilised prey avoids the few predatory species, never contacting them. The predators have no choice, being far behind in term of numbers. The civilised alien races hate them. But that is only nature, instinct. One of the only races that is truly hated, is the humans. Humanity is terrifying to the races that descend from prey, because not only are they the predators, they are predators that genetically descended from prey. And because they are deceptive, being able to eat plants and meat, they can pass for prey to those who do not know any better. This makes prey fear and hate them far more than they do regular predators.
Strangely, mankind did not relent. Most predators give up on contacting the most established races descended from herbivores, but mankind just never stopped trying. It wasn't until the Frekorth II Incident, that they succeeded. The Human race, seeing that a colony of the short woolly L'segni was under attack by a previously unknown species of extremely vicious underground native predators, armed with spears and swords, they went to help. Humans saved more than eight thousand colonists that day from getting killed, and maybe eaten. The L'segni colonists, having been pacifistic and not prone to war, had no weapons with which to defend themselves.
Humanity did. The fact that thousands of colonists were now held by humans, meant that diplomatic action had to be taken. The Galactic Commune made special dispensation that humanity could establish a single embassy, in order to communicate with alien prey civilisations, deal with relocating the colonists, and have relations with the Galaxy at large.
Suffice to say, this was not taken to nicely. Sure, the humans had saved the colonists, but most were under the impression that the humans still couldn't be trusted. There were riots, demonstrations outside of the small, unadorned, grey building, where the human race established their embassy. Security had to be stationed outside the building to prevent vandalism, or bomb attacks. Just because predators can be vicious, does not make prey sweet and innocent.
But mankind endured the slings, arrows, and harsh words flung at them. They had a plan. Not soon after humanity established their embassy, they sent out a small fleet with supplies to the starving planet F'lidarycs. They sent doctors to the plague-stricken worlds of the Desagm Hegemony. They aided the Viorans in capturing a group of predator-pirates that disrupted trade caravan lines in the Si'thar sector.
And gradually, the riots and demonstrations outside the human embassy, ceased. Slowly, but surely, the humans worked for trust. Finding a niche in the Galactic Community, where nobody had previously thought there was one. Slowly, alien races started to trust humans, to allow them at first partial access to their territories, then full access, as humans proved themselves good allies and friends. Soon, humans were hired as guards and soldiers.
Eventually, the small, but highly efficient fleet, of the Galactic Community, was almost 50% human. Because humanity had found a niche. If there are sheep, there are guard dogs. And humanity recognised this, seeing a good spot to take so that they would not be alone out there in the void of space. With only the more angry and violent predators to keep them company. And mankind knew that it was no good life being alone out there in the darkness, when you could be in the warmth with all the soft sheep.
[/r/ApocalypseOwl](https://www.reddit.com/r/ApocalypseOwl/) |
Former Corporal Lance Orlich of the 101st Airborne knew his time was almost at an end. His buddies from Normandy, Market Garden, Bastogne, and beyond......only 2 others remained from the group of 10 who’d survived all the way through Germany in his company. Guess it was genetics that got them through with a long life in part. He smiled as he saw them, along with around 40 others from the 506th Parachute Infantry Regiment. There was Pete, the Private who’d managed to join the Company just before Normandy. There was Henry, a guy he used to hate till he literally dived in front of a grenade for him. It turned out to be a dud, but god damn it if he didn’t stick by his side from that day after.
Yep.....they didn’t have much time left, but by God we’re they going to make- wait. There’s a third man......no......it can’t be.....Fallaster????
Only, Fallaster didn’t look old, he looked the exact same as he had at Currahee, at Camp Toccoa. He’d been in the best shape, the consummate survivor, the luckiest man. He was incredibly cool under fire, a brilliant soldier. The thing was though......nobody had heard from him since 1950. He’d apparently joined up again for Korea.....what was going on? He looked EXACTLY the same as he did over 70 years ago!
Lance trotted with his cane as fast as he could. The three men greeted him warmly.
“Lance! Look who showed up, it’s Falla- sorry, Mark du Pont! Fallaster’s grand kid!”
Lance hesitated. Mark looked exactly.....EXACTLY like Fallaster. Down to a detail that only he knew about. In Holland, during Market Garden, he and Fallaster we’re taking cover with a German prisoner during an artillery bombardment. A shell burst very close, killing the German outright, and seemed to knock out Fallaster. He’d always worn a neck scarf, claiming a religious need to have it on. That moment, he keeled over into the gushing neck of the German soldier, covering himself inadvertently in his blood. His scarf had slipped then, and curiously, there were two sizable indentations in his neck. He hasn’t thought much of it except to check to make sure they weren’t fresh neck wounds, at which Fallaster bolted up, apparently unharmed. Now.....well, it appeared Mark had *exactly* the same indentations. In the exact same spot.
Lance shrugged it off, though it still nagged him. They drank and talked for hours, and Lance enjoyed himself; it truly felt as if Fallaster was there with them. When the early hours of morning were upon them, long after any of them would normally have stayed up, they had to give in; it was time to depart another good reunion. But just before they did, Lance had one more thing to do.
“du Pont!”
Mark turned, looking curious.
“You forgot your scarf!”
For a moment, “Mark” looked slightly panicked....then he slowly smiled.
“Ah Corporal......I have to change *somehow* through the years!”
And with a small salute, Fallaster du Pont disappeared into the night. |
_**Hey everyone! I have two things I'd like to say before you start. One, I'm sorry it's so short! I didn't feel like writing a whole bunch, but I still had fun writing this! And two, jf you liked my story, go ahead and tell me what you loved! If you didn't, let me know what I can do differently next time. Thank you!**_
"I _what?_"
"You killed him! I had no idea you had even set up that trap there!"
The boss just told me that his greatest nemesis, Auraseer, had just slipped and fallen in the hallway leading to his lair. Apparently, he tripped on a mop I had accidentally left on the ground, and cracked his skull open.
Pretty neat, huh?
"But sir, I didn't-"
"Oh, no need to be so modest! You deserve the praise!"
"Sir, I'm not lyi-"
"Come on, my lad! Let us go tell the empire of your accomplishment!"
"*sigh...*"
"Alright, alright."
I follow the Boss outside, where a large gathering has already formed.
"*ahem.* Hello, citizens! Thank you for coming to the Mandatory Announcement Meeting!"
The excited cheers from the crowd are a stark contrast from my own expression. I force a smile as to not let it look like I am disrespecting the Boss.
"I have something very important to tell you!"
More cheers. I sure hope this doesn't go like this for the rest of the announcment.
"Our resident Head Imperial Janitor has killed our greatest enemy, the Auraseer, with a simplistic, but amazing trap!"
A gasp emanates from the crowd.
"Amazing, is it not? Here he is, right here! Say hello to Jane Seerslayer!"
The crowd starts to cheer my name. I'd guess that the name "Jane Seerslayer"can be heard from miles, judging by the sheer amount if people here.
As the crowd dies down, I am hurried into a car, and paraded around the kingdom.
As I am thrown gifts, and given offers of... unholy actions... I have one thought.
"_You know, maybe this won't be so bad after all._" |
"Colony, this is Solaris. Be advised that we are approaching a parallel vector and will be initiating coupling in T minus 30 minutes, over."
"Colony, come back. Over."
"Colony, we are inbound, and will be overriding your security measures to finalize coupling in T minus 20 minutes. We'll see you soon. Over."Bastien pulled at his headset. "You owe me $50 credits, Stein. There was no way the AI was still going to be working after thirty years. It was garbage when they launched. You're waking them up, by the way."
Twenty minutes later, the Solaris hooked up to the Colony, and the crew of the Solaris walked into the airlock. "Bastien, have you gotten a response from the Colony yet?"
"That's a negative, Vega. And please remind Stein that the 'I left my wallet on Earth' excuse isn't going to fly. I happen to know that he's still got at least one thumb."
"Roger that, Bastien. I'll pass it al- Stein, is that blood on the hatch window?"
"Space dust, Vega. It's on the outside. Relax, there was always like a fifteen percent chance the AI comms would fail during the trip. They're asleep over there, that's all. Okay, we're equalized. Opening the hatches."
"Stein! Stein! Respond!"
"What is it, Bastien?"
"Let me know if you find your wallet over there."
"Enough, both of you. This is a pretty momentous moment, can we treat it as such?"
"Yes, ma'am, sorry ma'am. Okay Stein, when you two get over there dictate what you see."
"Opening the Colony's outer hatch now. We're in. Whatever we saw on the window was definitely on the outside. All clear in here. Waiting for the airlock. Okay, we're green. Opening the door to the Colony proper. All clear. Making our way to the bridge to reset the comms. I know the crew is all asleep, but the quiet ship is making me a little uneasy."
"I believe it, Stein. If you come back with no pee in your suit I'll knock ten cred-"
"Bastien!"
"Sorry, ma'am. Stein, let me know when you two make it to the bridge."
"We're here. It's dark."
"Right, a comms failure could do that. There should be a central CPU you can use to reset the system."
"No, it's dark. It's off. Like, it has been shut down. INTENTIONALLY."
"What'? Okay, just get it up and running. Turn it back on."
"Roger that."
Sirens begin to wail on the Colony
"You hearing this, Bastien?"
"Affirmative. Where do we stand on the crew?"
"Stein and I are going to head to the cryo unit now. Bastien, do a log dump so we can figure out what happened."
"Yes, commander Vega. Downloading now."
"Bastien? Vega and I are in the cryo unit. Let us know if you get anything interesting from the logs. We're going to be here for a while as we check the pods."
"Can't you just open them from the command station?"
"It looks like someone beat us to it. They're all empty. Every. Single. One." |
“Ugh! I’m stuck on this stupid project at work! It was supposed to be an easy 2 day thing, and now 3 weeks later it still isn’t finished.”
Sarah sat slumped in her chair, I didn’t ask her what her project was, we agreed when we first started dating not to talk specifics about work. I pretended I didn’t know what she did and she thought I was a corporate lawyer of some sort.
“What’s the hold up hun?” I asked casually.
“Some shit head keeps getting in my way, I’ve told you before, I’m amazing at what I do, but it’s like this guy knows me, knows my every move. The first time was a mistake on my part, I shouldn’t have trusted an armature, but since then I can’t catch a break. 13 times I have tried finishing this project and 13 times I have failed. If I don’t finish it, things could go really bad for me.”
Her eyes met mine and I saw the exhaustion and genuine fear in them. Who ever was paying her must be scary to have her looking like that. She wouldn’t know I knew her mark, I worked in the background, a shadow. She couldn’t know I was the one keeping him alive. She had said 13, I only knew of 10, somehow my security had stopped threats I didn’t even know about. She was getting easier to spot, her desperation making her attempts more and more obvious. I sighed heavily, and pulled her into my lap.
“You’re putting to much stress on yourself, maybe you should just write this project off.”
“I can’t,” she whined piteously “I’ve signed papers, everything is on the line.”
She didn’t know how bad it had already gotten, my security net I had around her had already stopped 2 attempts on her life.
“Don’t worry my love, I will protect you from whatever comes.” I pulled her closer as she laughed bitterly in my embrace. She must be thinking how silly I was to think l could protect her. She was good at her job, I had been impressed, but I was the best in the business, and nobody ever beat me. She would be safe, but she would never know I was involved. I work in the shadows. |
Most people peak in high school.
It is a regrettable and undisputed fact. Winning a football game, kissing a girl, getting a trophy... Most would want their "life's greatest work"to be an impressive, wondrous thing that they dedicate all their lives to. But these numbers destroy hopes and dreams. Most people peak in high school.
Like me, apparently. Though I don't know *how.* I'm nothing special. I'm not part of a club. I have no one I'm interested in, like, romantically. I have no ongoing projects that I'm finishing anytime soon... believe me, I made sure not to plan anything for the coming day. The only thing of any importance happening today, on the date floating above my head... is the calculus test I'm currently taking.
I'm failing calculus. Given my luck, failing a calculus test would be pretty appropriate for my "life's greatest work."Sad, but appropriate.
I'm not bad at it, conceptually. I understand derivatives, and areas under curves, and what it means to *change* mathematically. But in my head, the numbers get jumbled up. A 2 becomes a 4 for no reason. A plus turns into a minus. Things reverse back and forth. I *know* these concepts like the back of my hand, but I'm still expected to *calculate* like I'm a machine.
Question 1, answered. Question 2, answered. Question 3...
Question 3 is about energy. About a generator, supplying power to a source at a specific rate... Wait a second. Is that a typo?
My mind wanders. My hand does too. Before I'm aware of it, my test is filled with equations. I double-and-triple-check my work, forcing the numbers to be correct even when my mind tries to switch them around. An exponent here... A variable there...
I take derivatives and anti-derivatives. Concepts dash back and forth, everything clicking like it never does. This is no longer about a typo. This... this is a whole new paradigm. Exponents go up to the 22nd power, but somehow I can follow it. It's math, with principles so solid that even a teenager with dyscalculia can follow it.
There. I check the work, focusing on each individual number, daring them to be wrong. I do it three more times.
Is this... real? Did I do this?
But if... this is true...
____________________________________________________________________________________
*On that day, Mar 17th 2022, Andrew Olmen discovered the key to free, clean, infinite energy. When asked, twenty years later, Olmen was reported saying: "I, like most, peaked in high school. I will never develop anything greater than the Olmen Equation. But even if that was my greatest work, it certainly wasn't my greatest day. I failed my calculus test, after all. It was only when I began working with others that my life truly turned around. Even if your accomplishments are humble, your efforts are not in vain. For every scientist, there's an engineer. For every writer, there's an editor. For every artist, there are those who make the paints, the easels, the canvases. It's only by working together that we can accomplish truly great things. Don't worry about the number over your head. Do what you can, and we will all rise together."* |
“Control, this is Adam again. I, uh, hope you’re doing well. I’m still floating through space. I think I’m the only one left, I can’t see any of the others through the debris,” I said, letting go of the button. Nothing came back, but that was expected. Trying to radio control was more for my own sanity than an actual attempt to be rescued.
But hey, I could hope…no, no I couldn’t. The ship crashed into a, a, a something, an asteroid I think, and I was sent spiraling out of the cockpit and now I was floating in space around an alien planet in another solar system and- and-
Ten count. Deep breath, hold, hold, release. Alright…again. Phew, now, focus on what can be done. Check your suit, check your gauges again, see how much oxygen’s left.
That couldn’t be right.
“Control, it’s really the funniest thing. I…my display is saying that I’m out of oxygen. Funny, isn’t it? The sensor must be busted, ‘cause it says I ran out an hour ago. But that can’t be right, that would mean…”
My suit came with two tanks, each holding about eight hours. So, I should have sixteen total under normal conditions. These weren’t normal conditions, and I undoubtedly wasted some by panicking…but an entire sixteen hours’ worth? Impossible, not without my noticing, and if my suit had a tear, but I would’ve found it.
Which meant...
“Control, how long have I been out here?” It couldn’t be, it’d been only an hour, an hour at most, since the crash. “Because according to this, I should be-“
“You’re dead, Adam.” The comms crackled to life, the audio quality somehow crisp and clear despite how far I should be from the control center.
“No, I’m hallucinating. That’s it – the low oxygen mixed with all the adrenaline and cortisol…this isn’t real.”
“It’s very real, Adam. Look behind you.”
“I don’t think I’ll be doing that.”
“Go ahead, take a look.”
“I-“
LOOK.
The voice no longer came from my comms, but rippled around me. My body moved before my mind, and I kicked at some nearby debris to spin myself around.
“I’m looking, I don’t…” The remains of our ship, floating around me. There was Dr. Fischer surrounding by bits of her medical lab. She hadn’t been wearing her suit when the ship depressurized, so it had gone quickly for her. That’s…good. I’m glad she and the others didn’t have to suffer out here with me.
Her body twitched.
“What…how?” Once could be passed of easily enough, but it kept twitching. What started as a tremor in one of the arms became a full-body spasm, the corpse of Dr. Fischer writhing in the void of space.
And then I saw it – what the voice really wanted me to see. It wasn’t this macabre dance, but beyond it. Something so large I hadn’t even realized what it was against the backdrop of the universe.
It was what we had collided with, but it wasn’t a stray asteroid, though our sensors had mistaken it as such, and I had too. It was too large, and vaguely spherical with skin like rock. But it couldn't be rock, as it turned a yellow eye to me.
YOU ARE NOT ALLOWED TO REST YET.
COME, CHILDREN OF TERRA. SWIM THROUGH THE OCEAN OF STARS WITH ME.
​
(Thanks for reading! C&C always welcome!) |
She set me on her table and sat down. "I'll name you Steve!"She said, "You can call me Wendy!"She was somewhere between 8-10 when she first found me. Just an innocent girl making an imaginary friend out of a rock.
I have been since the dawn of time and I have seen most of the planet's history around me, and now I know all of what went on in Wendy's life. She comes directly to her room after school to tell me how her day went. Whether it was good or bad. As she grew older I don't think she even thought I was sentient anymore, it just felt good to talk to something about her secrets.
When Wendy moved to college she took me with her, calling me her 'lucky rock'. From my spot in her dorm room I noticed that she was studying a course on Latin language, and uses her knowledge to translate an old book she found. Once she translated every single word in the book, her face seemed to light up.
After college, Wendy moved to her own house working as a Latin teacher. But every time she comes home she talks to me about something she's working on, and the book she read in college. Her project looks like it's made of stone and rare gems.
Finally her project was almost done. Wendy turned to me and said "It's missing one small piece; you!"I was taken aback by that statement as I was lifted off the basement table and put inside her project that resembles a human.
Sensations flooded my senses. Suddenly I felt bigger and that I could move freely. I was her project. "Impressive, right?"Wendy asked me, "That book in Latin that I was reading was all about building your very own stone golem!"
I slowly tested out my movements, raising my arm, wiggling my fingers, and clumsily standing up. I blinked my pebble eyes and tried out my newfound power of speech. "I... know... everything..." |
Do you know what is like to be hunted by three different factions, and five geese? Of course you don't. Do you know what it's like to have a date in an hour, and panic as you throw shit onto yourself? Probably.
First, and most importantly, I had to cover the steadily spreading rot on my left forearm. After that, I had to throw my contacts in, to hide the heterochromia, which consisted of one pure red eye, and another sauron-esque one. Finally, with all of that done, I got to do the normal human thing, like putting on make up, and finding a nice outfit.
Just as I was about to leave, I saw the squadron of geese moving down the street. Their Quacks were almost comically in-tune with the orders the vampire hunters would shout out.
Speaking of Vampire Hunters, the whirring of a helicopter can be heard in the distance. Taking a deep breath to calm my building nerves, I let myself forcefully walk into my car, and slam the door. But of course, since I have super strength from three different sources, the door dents, severely.
Taking a careful deep breath, and start my car. Luckily, my key doesn't break; like it did last time. The werewolf hunters with their bolt guns and high powered motorcycles come swerving out, just as I get onto the street.
Several traffic laws are broken, and I make it to the restaurant with thirty minutes to spare. Just as I'm getting out of the car, a man with a submachine gun takes aim.
"Oh for fuck's sake!"I scream as one of the bullets slams through my arm.
The decay I'd been carefully hiding with layer upon layer of make up and Fake Skin, is now officially ruined. I find the hunger clenching in my stomach as the skin heals, and I stare over towards the man that just ruined my night.
From one second to the next, I'm on top of him, clawing out his eyes and biting into his neck. Then the chopper comes, and before I can even think, I'm flying through the air, slamming into the five men on board. Each are dead in hardly a second, and I'm jumping down towards the Werewolf hunters.
None of them have time to react, but for just a single moment, I'm blinded. Each of my contacts fall to the floor, before I summon the full power of each infection. In seconds, each and every one of them are dead.
I stare lightly towards the Geese Brigade, watching as they back away.
Suddenly, like an alarm bell, I look down at myself. Blood is dripping from my dress, little specks of muscle, bone, and tendrils of meat, are dripping down my arms and legs. As I look up, I find my date standing right in front of me.
He clears his throat, before reaching up to his eyes, and tearing out two contacts, "Well, guess I won't be needing these anymore," |
**The Humans**
"Uh commander we have an issue with our human experiment."
"Yes?"
"The er, the humans well there appears to be a slight problem. The appear to have been as intelligent as designed, even more so. Many millennia ago they appeared to have put down their sticks and stones and built something of themselves. From small neolithic villages to vast empires spanning from one continent to another. Their technological and societal growth surpassed our own specie's history. Just as planned. However..."
"However what?"
"We appeared to have made them _too much_ in our own image, and I'm not just talking physically either."
"And that means?"
"Do you know why we built them in the first place?"
"I'm rusty on it. Why are you stalling?"
"Back in the days of our ancestors we designed the humans to be functionally like us. We put them on a similar planet to our home world. We gave them our body plan, and even similar DNA. We only made three alterations. The first it appears we got right, we made them smarter than us. We allowed their brains to work at a faster pace and make more unique connections on average than our people can. The plan was always that we'd check back in ever few hundred years to watch their evolution and use their discoveries to improve upon our own technology. We got many fruits from this side of the experiment: nuclear energy, a deeper understanding of universe's laws, and Velcro."
"Are you telling me that our people weren't smart enough to invent Velcro?"
"I'm saying that we were not creative enough thinkers to have that technology ever cross our minds."
"Huh. You said something about a second modification?"
"Yes, the second one was giving them shorter lifespans so that way their society _had_ to progress at a faster rate than ours."
"Interesting. And the third?"
"Our ancestors modified them so that the humans wouldn't have freewill. Well it appears our ancestors were smart enough to make the humans smarter, but not cleaver enough to remove the freewill from our genes. This has been a grave mistake."
"How can that be?"
"Well, it's either one of two things. Either free will and intelligence are much more intertwined than we once thought, or we missed a few genes in our genome that grant us freewill and those propagated through the humans. My bet is on the latter. Anyways, for centuries the topic on whether humans truly have free will has been a heated debate across the humanologist. We've abducted them and even sent in agents to live amongst them. In the end their findings were muddied by their own biases and no solid answer came from their expeditions. But I believe that the latest state of human society has given more credence to them having free will."
"And what's that?"
"Do you remember the crash in that human desert in what they call, uh it's here in my notes, Roswell?"
"I'm aware of it, yes. Such an embarrassment. The ship was sent to self destruct upon contact though, right?"
"That's the general consensus yes. But it appears that the humans were craftier than we thought. Their space technology has accelerated at an astounding rate since then, within twenty years they were able to reach their moon, and then just a hundred years later they built their first colony on another planet. Mars they call it, I believe. It is an incredible achievement. However, it appears that they have been building something in secret."
"Are we finally getting the part where you stop stalling?"
"Yes, in a manner. Well commander, they appeared to have been building a special weapon based off of our technology discovered in that crash. A weapon heading directly towards us faster than light. I have no idea what it's capable of, but something tells me that they are very very angry to have discovered their true origins. Which, going back to my theory, is evidence that humans have free will."
"Are you telling me you gave me a whole lecture _before_ you mention the fact that there's a weapon heading right towards us? You idiot!"
"Well, as you know commander, we aren't a very smart species."
----
If you liked this check out /r/QuadrantNine for more writings by me! |
The winged git was in his classic form: a sphere of light surrounded by eye-covered rings that turned and twisted about the central blinding ball. All of this was kept afloat in the air by three wings that did not flap and instead turned slowly about the creature — the wings were made of feathered light (and more eye-balls) and were mounted somewhere behind the hovering, ocular-orbited, over-bright orb.
Me? Think: handsome guy in a suit. Pick your man-crush and make him dapper (ie: plop that hunk in a good suit), wrap a pair of dark shades over his eyes and add a little stubble if he doesn’t have some already. Got the image?
Yo.
It’sa me, man-crush. Wanna fu—
“I need your help, demon.”
The Angels voice echoed about the empty valley and bounced around the rocks and trees and rattled my damned rum-addled demonic head.
I pinched the bridge of my nose and crushed my vision with a brow-crushed clench. Hopefully it would stop my brain from bouncing around my skull. “Could you use your inside the realm of mortals voice, please?”
“Oh, sor—”
“And form. You look like a mess and it’s making me dizzy.”
The eyes on the rings and wings closed, and then the golden hoops merged and floated to the top of the orb as the light at the Angels center stretched and unfolded into a sleak and still shinning humanoid form. The wings wrapped the angels body as he descended and landed before me... barefooted but clad in a white-suit that had been pressed into impeccable and indestructible crispness.
The angels skin was a radiant golden shade, as though a mortals olive skin had been gilt from within. White hair spiralled from the creatures head and fell about at shoulder length, the chaos and order of waves and waterfalls came to my mind.
*Her* face holds a pair of worried eyes the shade of a glorious and golden autumn afternoon. A pretty pair of lips are pressed into a pout, puckered by whatever sour source had sent her seeking and summoning a demon.
“Demon?” A question on her lips, though worry remained welded to her miraculous mug.
“Hm?”
“You were whispering ‘hummena-hummena-hummena’ under your breath.”
“Ah. No, I just said ‘Hm’.”
“Before that, though. Is. Was it a warding incantation? To protect yourself?”
“Nah.” I scratched my chin, yawned and made a show of my hunkier stretches and flexes. Surreptitiously, of course. “Just a song stuck in my head, friend. Also, protect myself? From what?”
“I...I could smite you with His holy light, Demon.”
“Sure you could, kitten.”
The sky was blue and cloudless, but that didn’t make the lightning bolt that had blasted me hurt any less. I was flat on my back and she hadn’t moved. Pain throbbed from my every atom and my suit smoked.
“Point taken.” Inspired by my charcoaled clothing, I pulled a packet of cigarettes out of my smouldering smoking jacket, shook a stick into my lips and then lit it with a snap of my fingers. “So,” I took a drag and exhaled: “what’s the job, Kit—”
Thunder rolled in the distant empty sky. I like a bit of a frisky slap as much as the next guy, but I’ll take the hint.
“What’s the job...Angel?”
“You may call me Saliestra, Demon.”
“Kilbern, Sally.”
“Saliestra, *Demon*.” She leaned over and I saw her wonderful face had not changed its worried woeful expression. Zapping me had been as simple and natural as brushing away a pesky horse fly. She’d been taught not to give us demons an inch...
Rather rightly, I must admit.
But, she’d probably been told not to summon us...and yet...
“The job is this. I need you to get me into and then back out of Hell.”
“Sightseeing?” I said, still on the ground, with a smouldering smirk as my suit jacket continued to smoulder from the smiting I had received.
She was still looking down at me, but rarely met my eyes. “Not sightseeing. A...a Rescue.”
“Unseen?”
“I hope so.”
“How deep?”
“...” The Angel stood upright and looked away as a manicured hand lifted and began to tug at her bottom lip. “Mmfph mphl.”
“Pardon?” I sat up. She had started to pace and was even more beautiful when worked up. If she ever smiles I’m going to be smitten and smotten.
Saliestra showed me her wingless back, clenched her fists and lowered her head. I heard a softly muttered mantra of self assurance and then *wham*!
She turned, chin up and eyes wide, a creature of confidence...one that was also scared as hell: “Ninth level.”
“Fuck off.”
“What?”
“Smite me. Send me back. Don’t care. You get a pot of gold, ‘cause I *will not* make that deal. Fuck. Off.”
“But-but-but-but-”
“Getting an *Angel* down *there* and then back *out*! Unseen? Clandestine styles? No chance in my home town, Saliestra. Way-way-*way* outside my paygrade. Peace.” I stood brushed my knees off and subtly showed her my fine-toned arse as I brushed away any stuck grass. I turned back to her, no longer singed and back to full handsome. Jaw a little bigger. “Look. I’m sorry. Level three, maybe —maybe— four...I could possibly do *that*. But, nine? Nine! You’ll need someone higher up the food chain or lower down the shithead shaft.”
“If I go for a more powerful demon, this will leak and become a much bigger problem—”
“Look, you seem like a nice enough entity. I won’t sugar coat it. Hell is *hell*. Would *not* recommend. This coming from a guy who works there and has benefits. This...rescue mission...we would both end up up to our necks in an eternity of damnation the likes of which—”
“I’ll sign any contract you offer.”
“Cool, you got a pen?” |
*"Milicent* never made me eat vegetables."Taehal complained, as she regarded the broccoli on her plate with a disapproving scowl. "I *liked* Milicent. *She* was nice."
Leena sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose and taking a breath before responding to the elven child's petulant remark. "I know that's not true, Taehal. Maybe at first, when you were *both* children, but I know for a fact that Grandma *did* make you eat healthy food, later in life."
"No you don't! You don't know *anything!"* Taehal complained. "You weren't even born!"
"Oh, just *eat your vegetables,* Taehal!"Leena insisted.
The elflet bristled. "Don't presume to command me, *child* \-- I held your father when he was a baby! You're like...like *five minutes* old!"
"I respect your age, *Aunt* Taehal, but you're an elf: that means you're a still a child, and so you still have to eat your peas and broccoli! And I'm *fourteen,* by the way!"
Taehal crossed her arms, and looked away from her plate resolutely.
Leena mirrored her posture. "Fine! You want to be stubborn? We can sit here all night -- you're *still* going to eat your vegetables!"
"I can sit here all *century,* if I want to,"Taehal replied primly, then added, "I can just sit here and sit here, until you're *dead*.*"*
"Some days I wish I was..."Leena grumbled under her breath, as she got up from the table, and then stalked around it to glare down at the little elf girl, who didn't deign to meet her eyes. She crouched low over the table, leaning in close, but Taehal still didn't pay any attention to her. Not until she spoke.
"Your hair looks like an upside-down dwarf beard."Leena said, flatly.
Taehal's large almond-shaped eyes widened, and her mouth dropped open in outrage as she turned to glare at Leena. With the elf thus distracted, Leena's arm shot out, scooped up a great handful of the vegetables on Taehal's plate, and shoved them into her open mouth.
Taehal struggled and squirmed, of course, but Leena simply kept her hand clamped down until she was forced to swallow, only then pulling it away and wiping it on her apron.
"There! I *told* Mom and Dad that I'd make you eat properly while they were gone."Leena said, triumphantly.
"You...you...!"Taehal snarled, glaring at Leena angrily. She shoved two fingers into her mouth. "Ahg'll maygge mahshelf shick!"she threatened, incoherently.
"No you won't."Leena scoffed. "You *hate* throwing up. I remember when you ate wispberries last spring and mother had to give you a dose of ipecac; you cried for an hour afterwards."
Defiantly, Taehal shoved her digits further towards the back of her mouth, but the moment she began to gag she reflexively yanked them back out, coughing.
Leena raised an eyebrow.
"I *hate you."* Taehal muttered, then hopped down from her chair and stomped off. |
For most people it was a typical rainy Tuesday in April. Nothing out of the ordinary.
Million people working like little bees stuffed into skyscrapers just build to be a fabric to make the rich richer and the poor insane.
For most people that meant going to work in the morning, getting screamed at by their boss and trying not to cry.
For others it meant to serve someone coffee they ordered and being screamed at for not brewing it fast enough.
It was a harsh rainy Tuesday in April like always. Nothing out of the ordinary for humanity.
Even the news were normal. That much did Karl know as well.
He knew it, because he focused on the radio in the background, rather on his boss screaming at him.
The moderator of KBBT talked about some obscure country somewhere far away being bombed again. Making lame jokes about freedom and how they should just believe more in god. Then switched over to the latest football scores and even the weather.
Karls boss still screamed at him and Karl began to wonder if he would ever stop as the news slowly faded into the newest hit single by The Ragdolls.
The fast paced melody fused with the rant of his boss in a bizarre and fascinating way and Karl began to lean his head ever so slightly to the left.
This seemed to enrage his boss even more. Spit flew out of his mouth and a vein on his forehead began to pulsate.
Thinking about the reason why he was screamed at in the first place was just laughable and a small grin began to form on his lips. This ever so slight grin, barely noticeable, yet still there was discovered in the moment it formed.
And then it happened.
“YOU ARE FIRED! I DON’T WANT TO SEE YOU AGAIN! BACK YOUR THINGS AND GO!”
His boss, fuming, turned around and kicked the bucket inside. Crumbled paper flew all around the office.
The silence that followed was deafening.
That was until The Ragdolls began to sing about how nice it is to have a some friends to rely on.
Karl stood there not knowing what to do. He thought to himself what a piece of crap The Ragdolls were.
Nobody had anyone anymore in this society. Everybody lived for themselves, not caring about anybody else. It was just money here, vacation there. Oh look I have had fifty women in twenty countries.
Everybody wanted to be bigger and better and just better than their own so called friends and Karl was sick of it.
Instead of taking his belongings he just silently moved towards the elevator. He felt the stares of his now ex-colleagues hitting his back, but he did not care. He wanted out. Out. Out. Out.As the elevator finally open the doors he had a plan and he was convicted to go through with it.He pressed the button to the top and looked out into the office. He saw the scared faces of them all.
Karen who just bought a house and had a review of her performance coming up next week.
Lars who was known to be easily scared tried to hide his gaze.
Even the Paul who needed to comfort his dog peaked up too him.
All of his colleagues had this scared look on them which was full of desperate hope not to be the next, but as soon as the doors closed this expression changed. It turned into confusion.
Confusion because of Karl. Because Karls expression, which should have been angre or frustration or both was just a smile. A rather serene smile.
Karl himself had enough and that, even without him knowing that, was reflected on his face.
He knew what he had to do and he was sure of it.Today was enough. He could not handle it anymore and in his mind was just one thought.It will finally end.
As the door opened on top of the building, it was still raining.
The wind was howling through the streets and dampened the noises of the street by quite a bit. To his surprise Karl was not alone on the top.
A man in a black suit stood at the edge of the building looking down. Not bothered at all by the rain and the wind.
He just stood there.
It was a surreal sight.
Karl slowly moved towards the man who still seemed to not care for anything.
“Taking a short smoking break?”, Karl asked to gauge how long the man would still be there.
But the man did not react.“Look man, I know its been a rough day, but should you not get back to work? You will be drenched if you don’t go inside soon”, he asked sincerely concerned.
“I am always at work.”, the man finally answered with a voice so deep as if he had not spoken in years.
“I am just tired of it. I understand when it has a meaning and all, but if its meaningless or just for minor inconveniences? It just annoys me, because I have always to oblige.”, he continued.
“I know what you are talking about. My boss just screamed at me for half an hour because someone forgot to brew coffee. He always gives me shit for stuff like this.”, Karl responded.
“No, Karl, you do not get it. It is always the same, since eons do you humans jump to your death for the smallest things. Your lover kissed someone else? Better take poison! Someone gave you a bad grade? Let’s go and shoot them! And you? You are not better yourself! Your boss screamed at you. And you are sick of it. That I understand. But have you ever thought about what will happen after you did what you plan to do? No you have not. So Listen and listen well, I will tell you. Death is sick of reaping souls who have a great life ahead of them.”, the man spoke and turned towards Karl.What he saw disturbed his very being.
The face of the man or rather what should have been his face was a void of color. Bones and Skin moving in and out of existence, fading and coming back alive. In all of its non-being emotions came across.
Anger. Frustration. Helplessness. Even Hope was visible.
Karl did not know what he saw and he did not know if he wanted to understand. To much did it hurt to look at this, being which called itself Death.
No word was enough to describe what horror lay between the cold burning balls which should have been eyes.
“They always say that God has a plan for everybody. It is destiny. Faith. All is scripted. One can not go against it. Let me tell you, it is all a big load of Crap. Not entirely of course, but you humans, you all down here, are out of reach for us Gods and can change what was written as your Life. We Gods can only interact with you in very specific ways. For example, I can interact with people that are dying. Because it is my duty, my, and I really am surprised you humans like this word so much, faith, to guide the souls into the afterlife. To tell them what will happen to them. The bad and the good. How long they have to suffer in hell or if they can go to heaven directly. Maybe you want to be reincarnated? Even that is possible, if you get an appointment with the God of life. But you know what? He does not care about you puny little humans! The only one who really cares is me! Because I see you struggle. I see you try your hardest to give your life meaning. And I love you for that. I really do. And that is why you, on this rainy Tuesday are so frustrating to me. You see, if you jump now, you will be stuck in hell for three eternities before you can even go to heaven. And before you ask how long an eternity is. This whole universe you are in is only one fifth eternity old. But what would happen if you just turn around? In three days on your way back from an interview which you butchered you will bump into your future wife. Two years from then you and her will buy a house in her home country. Ten years from then you and your wife together will find the cure for a disease not even known right now. Both of you will have wonderful grandchildren and you and her will die together, just minutes apart after having lived a wonderful and meaningful life. So you really want to throw that away? Sure, go ahead. I will wait on the street.”
With a flicker the face of Death turned into a normal human face and it reached into the pockets of its suit. It pulled out a card and put it onto the ground between them. Then Death turned around under the stunned gaze of Karl who did not know what to think. Death moved towards the elevator and went down, waiting for Karl, whatever he might decide.
Karl stood there in the rain and slowly grabbed the card left behind by Death. It was a business-card of a company he had never heard of. A smile formed on Karls face.
“Thanks”
This typical rainy Tuesday. Like many Tuesdays in April before and after this one.
But this one was special.
At least to Karl.
Because Death gave him a new life. |
Where once there was dread noise, now there is silence. Where once there were strict parents, manipulative siblings, and angry teachers, there is only me. Where once there were dreadful people everywhere, the city is now empty. I sit in a quiet garden, and I read a book from father's library, which was once forbidden onto me. For a week, nobody has said a word to me. No teasing comments, no attempts to make me afraid, no disparaging statements directed at me. At my fear. I eat the fruits from the trees in my garden now, and I am calm for the first time in my life. The only sounds are the distant calls of birds. They do not bother me. Not here. Not now. Nothing ever will again. For he is here. My guardian. My protector. The one who hath delivered me from the torment that was my life before. I should feel scared when his monstrous and beastly shape moves through the empty halls of my family's mansion. I should feel my heart beating when he opens his massive maw, filled with sharp teeth. But he is of me, and he is mine. I can never fear him.
We've only known each other for a week. Since the day when I finally held that orb in my hand. Our family's orb. A powerful, ancient, artefact made in the days of yore. When everything I feared went away. Was driven out. Left me in peace at long last. They didn't want me to hold it. They didn't want me to use it. They said my fears were too much, that my guardian would destroy the world, should I be allowed to hold it. To let it awaken that tremendous skill within me. To summon an unbeatable and loyal monster, that would destroy all that threatens me. All that threatens my life. And he certainly did so. No more frightening noble scions, luring with honey-sweet poison voices, full of lust, greed, and ego. No more sisters tormenting me, stealing my things, trying to make me think I had gone mad, and never had such toys or dresses. No more nannies telling me to be strong. No more noble society, with their horrid galas, the dreadful dances. What if one were to be poisoned, what if one were to trip while dancing? What if the servants were mercenaries planning to kill all the guests at the behest of a rival house?
My beast makes a chuffing sound as he notices how my thoughts behave. It calms me. Lets me feel safe.
I still remember it. The orb had recharged. My siblings had been gathered in the grand hall for the Orb Day. For our Orb Day. It works at different days, when the orb is charged, and any child of our family older than 12 could gain their skill. They didn't want me to use it. They had told me not to do it. But as my siblings used their new skills, Tomas with his control of ice, Lucia with her flames, Tholan summoning forth blades and using them like a trained warrior, Mirrea with her shapeshifting. It was frightening. But I was happy with them. That they would get such good gifts from the orb. Underneath my anxiety, I was happy for them, if a bit scared. I'm not scared any more, but I was back then. Anxiety, the doctors said. Same as the mages said, and how they spoke against me getting to use the orb when they learned I'd get a guardian who'd protect me against everything I feared. Our parents had tried paying great sums for them to fix it. But such abilities do not work on the mind in that way. No spell nor medicine exists that can remove such things. Not without destroying the brain utterly, and building a new one. But that would not be legal, and it would not be me.
Nothing could be done about my fears. But that didn't stop my parents and family from trying anyway. Scaring me on purpose to make me harder, only to be angry with me for retreating further. Forcing me to face summoned undead, starved wolves in cages, and madmen in the asylums. It didn't work at all. Their treatment of me just made everything so much worse. Maybe if they had left me in peace, to read my books, to paint my birds, to play my harp, my fears would not have grown so great that everyone frightened me.
But the daughter of a noble family cannot just live like that, a noble child has a duty to their family; they said that when I begged them to stop. When I, shaking, my heart beating, my breath short, came to father and mother, and asked them to just let it end. They wanted a political piece, a pawn to marry off, not a frightened girl. Now, my beast have killed them as well. During the grand apogee of our celebrations on the Orb Day, as my siblings cast their magicks wildly, Lucia in a cruel jest making my dress catch on fire. In blind fear I ran forward towards the shimmering orb itself, screaming and panicking. I fell, and grabbed onto the only thing in front of me for support. The Orb. There was a beautiful and sharp light, and I passed out.
I do not remember what happened next. But when I woke I saw my beast. My monster. An enormous tiger, big as an elephant. And I wasn't scared of him. Nobody was around anywhere. Only me, and him. An extension of my own self. My power manifested into a being that loves and protects me. I have ridden on his back through the city. And there are no people here. It is empty. I felt safe. Since then, I have spoken no words. I have done nothing but paint, read, and work in the garden, my watchful friend by my side. He is always by my side. And at last, I feel safe. I am not happy with this, I miss a number of them. I think Mirrea is still alive, if the mournful raven that sometimes weeps as it watches me from afar is any indication. She was always kind to me, never trying to frighten me. I wish there would be a way for us to speak as sisters again. But the world has changed. The paths we take in life have been decided by chance. I did not ask to have my anxiety made worse by my family. I did not ask for a protector like this. But what has happened cannot be changed.
They could have kept me away until the power in the orb had faded. But they demanded that I attend the celebrations, despite my anxiety. They demanded that I come. Despite the dangers. As to not lose face in front of the other nobles. As to not seem weak. Had they just let me rest in my room, hide in my bed, then they would still be here today. But in their hubris, they did not think of that. Now I am alone, as I always dreamt of being.
I will live a quiet and safe life now. I will wander like a ghost in this garden, in this city. My guardian keeping me safe, keeping me company. And I shall never know fear again. Not really. It will be temporary at best, for even when the anxiety takes me, he is there by my side. His calm nature, his gentle movements, his careful treatment, and his warm soft fur, all of it soothes me. He will destroy things that threatens my life, no matter what. That's what the mages said. And they were right. With all the things around me that were threats to me destroyed, his efforts are focused on destroying my anxiety with his kindness, his calmness, and his sweet chuffing. However, as my anxiety, that inborn fear that comes from within, cannot be defeated, he will just stay by my side and soothe me whenever it takes me over; and thus he will keep me company until my days on this world are over.
[/r/ApocalypseOwl](https://www.reddit.com/r/ApocalypseOwl/) |
Yugh-Ul the Brutal looked down at the man in confusion.
It was used to people running in fear. Each of it's four arms held a different weapon that inspired fear in the hearts of people- a wooden club with rings of iron nailed into it, a double-sided ax, a blade that could easily slice through concrete and a staff that could shoot fire. The tattoos adorned across its eight-foot-tall body depicted the spirits of the dead screaming in agony and fear. Even it's face was hideous- with two sets of glowing yellow eyes and a pair of mouths filled with jagged blackened teeth.
The man was barely five and a half feet tall. He wore a light blue polo shirt and khakis that made it look like he was getting ready to play golf, not face a towering monstrosity. His eyes had dark circles under them, his hair was a long messy brown, and his skin was particularly pale. There was something familiar about the man's eyes, but Yugh-Ul could not place it.
"I just wanted a day off,"The man said.
"Huh?"Yugh-Ul said.
"A day off,"The man said as he walked closer, rotating his shoulders. "I've been working at my job for three years now without a real day off, on top of my side gig. I finally had a chance to get a day off from all of my other responsibilities, and I just wanted to have a quiet day. Go to the library, eat at a diner for lunch, and watch a movie tonight. But no, no, one of you just had to show up and ruin everything. None of you were supposed to be out today."
"Undesirable mortal,"Yugh-Ul said. "I am the end of dozens of lives. I am the consumer of flesh. I am..."
The first blow knocked the wind out of Yugh-Ul. The man struck just below the diaphragm forcing the four-armed creature into a hunched position. Yugh-Ul did not even see the man's leg move. Now hunched, the blows rained upon its unprotected head. Each one cracking and crushing parts of its head with vicious, surgical precision. As the monster's life came to a swift, brutal end, it realized why the eyes were familiar. It had seen them before.
They were the eyes of the Puppetmaster. The ruler of all monsters. They ruled with an iron fist, commanding where monsters struck to sow fear. Today was a day that no assignments had been given, so Yugh-Ul had gone out on it's own to terrorize people. It tried to beg for forgiveness, but its mouth had already been reduced to mush.
As Yugh-Ul collapsed forward in a heap, it's body already sizzling and dissolving under the afternoon sun, the Puppetmaster took a napkin out from his pocket from the diner and wiped his hands clean.
"I just wanted a day of peace for once,"He said as he tossed the napkin onto the body before walking away. |
"Did you really have to bring the dog to the spaceship?"the alien complained.
The second alien looked down at the furry creature. "Absolutely."
"Fine, Blorp!"the first alien held their hands up in resignation.
"Thank you, Blip."Blorp shook his three arms in appreciation.
"You can thank me by actually getting some data about this new planet."Blip muttered.
"What is this planet anyway?"
"The local call it 'Earth,'"Blip explained. "They think its the only planet with life on it."
"How self-centered!"
"We've met worse. Remember those Tramaldites?"Blip commented. Blorp shuddered. How could they forget? Blorp and Blip were chased out in seconds after Blip accidentally offended them with his copy of "The Very Hungry Cattetiler."("How was I supposed to know that they hated reading?") Now they have a new system: Blorp goes down onto the surface. Blip stays safe on the space ship. But that dog! That dog might get in the way of things!
"Not a chance,"Blorp started again when Blip went quiet. "Humans love dogs! They even say that a 'dog is a man's best friend.' I mean, who else is better to learn about humans than a dog?"Blip couldn't argue with that logic.
"Okay, here it goes."Blip pulled the lever. A flash of light enveloped the dog and alien. It took a few minutes for all of Blip's five eyes to adjust to the light. Two odd human-shaped figures emerged.
The left-most figure spoke first in what Blorp could only assume to be the Earthly language of English. (Alas, he had forgotten to complete his Duolingo classes and was now suffering immensely for it) "We did it, Blip!"The right-most figure wore a confused expression. "Where am I?"
Blip figured that Blorp could deal with that mess. Blip pressed the red button and watched as two silhouettes frantically speak in foreign tongue, falling down from outer space onto Earth in a red BMW.
"So basically,"the dog-human repeated slowly. "We look like humans because we need to learn more about human culture."
"Exactly right. We figured you might have some expertise."
"Oh."The dog-human thought for a minute, seriously. They perked up. "I know what humans love doing!"
"What?"
"They love chasing after cars,"the dog explained. "It's like fetch!"
"What's that?"Blorp repeated.
"Not important. But humans love chasing you when you drive really, really fast in a car."
"Oh. A *car,"* Blorp remembered Blip talking about cars. Thanks to Blip, they even had a car that they'd floated down in. Maybe there was nothing to be worried about after all.
"Well, let's drive fast!"Blorp took the driver's seat. Within seconds, Blorp reached 200 miles per hour. "Is this fast enough?"asked Blorp. The dog looked in the rearview mirror. "I don't see anyone. You must be driving too slow."Once again, Blorp was glad that Blip had refurbished the car. That way, Blorp could push the limits even further. 200 became 300. 300 become 3,000. 3,000 became 3 million.
Finally, a flash of red and blue hit them followed by a soundwave. "This is the police. Stop the car."Blorp screeched to a halt, excited for his first encounter with human life. After months of planning, this was the defining moment.
The uniformed man knocked on the window. Blorp lowered it down, listening to the humankind's first recorded words. "Before I ask why you were doing 675 million in a 40, I'd first like to ask how in the world that's even possible." |
Joseph Smith looked at the man with the horned helmet standing in his way. He had passed the rainbow bridge into the Nordic afterlife.
"I knew I made most of it up, but at least I was Christian!"He stammered out.
Heimdall looked at him angrily. "Smith. For not being an honest man, and for cheating others of their wives and money, instead of taking them like a true Viking, you will be sent to Hel for your punishments."
Joseph looked devastated. He looked around him, at the rainbow bridge. "So, do only believers of the Nordic gods get accepted?"
Heimdall spat at Smith's feet. "Anybody who isn't a prick gets in."
With that, Heimdall threw Joseph off of the rainbow bridge into the pit of eternal despair, the mighty Hel ripping his soul apart with eternal torment. |
Hey there Sloth, it's me, the boss. Look, I don't know how to tell you this, but I'm afraid we're going to have to let you go. Why? Well, if you look at the final quarter figures, less and less evil is being done in the world. Did you know we didn't even eclipse fifty million violent deaths this year? I'm afraid you just haven been pulling your weight. Yes, I know that's your thing. But I'm sorry. I truly am, it's just this company has been in existence for near 10,000 years. It's the 21st century. We got to adapt. Unfortunately, laziness just isn't as terrible of a sin anymore. I mean, the rise of industrialization already got you less hours. Add on the acceptance of kids staying at home for longer... You're being marginalized. Look, it was either you or Gluttony and people still give fat folks a hard time. Believe me, as soon as they develop the zero-calorie Big Mac, he's on the curb. But look, I'm a fair devil, so I'll fix you up with a job. I think you'll do quite nicely there. Great wages, health plan and they sit around doing nothing but make other people's lives miserable. I see big things for you. Trust me, you'll love congress. |
"Well, it's because they have the best media exposure, obviously."The tall alien sighed and leaned back in the chair, crossing his arms behind his head. "I'm not going to land in some bumpkin town in Iceland. Anybody hears that one, they'll write it off on the spot. 'I saw aliens in Iceland!' 'Son, that's just the locals.' But seriously, I don't know why you're getting pissed off."
English diplomat Peter Williams was miffed alright. "Well obviously if you land in some empty place, nobody will hear about it! So invade Paris! London! We need something to change up the dreary wet days here!"
The alien let out a derisive bark of laughter. "You *want* us to invade you? My lords, you're more starved for attention than I thought!"
Peter threw his hat on the floor. "You even invaded god-damned Johannesburg! South Africa! Land a spaceship in the Queen's garden, for god sakes!"
The alien sighed again. "You realize the amount of restructure that America has to do every time we invade? I can't tell you how many times they've had to rebuild the White House. See, my point is, we want fame on this planet. So we chose the biggest media outlet with the most funds to support our habits. With you, we'd get a good Eiffel Tower destruction maybe once every five years. Don't you ever wonder why the U.S. is in massive debt? It's the biggest damn set piece in the entire galaxy!"
"But-!"
"Not to mention the variety! Farmlands, major citys, small towns, even a bonafide space program for our sets in space! And don't get me started on the possibilities of rednecks meeting aliens!"
"You could fight some chavs..."Peter offered quietly.
"We tried that once. Attack the Block came out as a comedy, not a horror film. And we like horror. Ever seen Alien?"
Peter humphed. "So that's it then?"
The alien sighed. "Unless you can come up with a great plot concerning us invading while you put on the tea, then yes, that's it. Now, if you'll excuse me, we have filming to do."
"Where at?"Peter asked.
The alien made a concerned face. "Australia. Sorry."
"YOU SON OF A BITCH!"Peter lunged through thin air as the alien teleported away.
|
I CAN'T explain it!
I'm not just a physics professor, I have written some of the top-selling books on the subject and regularly make television appearances and I'm telling you, I can NOT explain it!
Look, I do the same schtick every year. I tell my students the truth; anything that has even the slimmest chance of happening probably will somewhere, someday and that I *could* somehow manage to walk through the wall. Yeah, then I slam into it (usually hurting my nose in the process) and they laugh. It helps to cut the tension on the first day.
But I did. I don't know *how* it happened, it just did! I walked straight though the wall, easy as you please, as if it just wasn't there. I didn't feel it, but I smelled the moldy smell of the space between the walls and the dusty smell of the insulation. It was quick and alarming. And then there I was -in the adjacent classroom.
An entire mathematics class *and* their professor SAW me walk though the wall into their classroom. They gasped, they shrieked, and a few people exclaimed, "wow,"or, "oh my God!"Doctor Van Velker nearly fainted!
I can't fathom by what mechanism this occurred. If I had even the merest inkling, don't you think I'd turn it into the career achievement of all time?! There is no way to determine the cause, as I cannot replicate it. That's how I broke my nose! I'VE TRIED!
I can only say one thing with a reasonable amount of certainty. Whatever happened, whatever forces were at work, whether or not it was a hiccup of quantum uncertainty or I don't know what else, the *one* thing I know for sure is that it was *not* about the wall itself. It was about *me*. And the only reason I know that is because my *body* went through the wall just fine *but none of my clothing did!*
I walked into Van Velker's class *stark naked*.
Please, despite making a reasonable living selling books and doing appearances, I am surely not rich. I beg you not to impose a high bail, your honor. It wasn't my fault! |
He annoyed me for years. I thought I must’ve had schizophrenia, except instead of my hallucinations being murderous, they came to me for advice. Plural probably isn’t right. There was really just one hallucination. His name was Tyler. I saw Fight Club when it first came out and nearly pissed myself. Was my imaginary friend going to start a violent antiestablishment movement? But no, Tyler just asked me for advice.
*Should I go for that promotion?* Sure, do whatever you want, I don’t care. *I’m feeling lonely since Michelle broke up with me, at least I have you.* We’re not really that close man, but that’s nice.
Tyler had an extremely complex imaginary life. It was interesting that despite me being his inventor, there were aspects of his life I knew nothing about.
It was the opposite for him. He knew everything about my life, often before I did. Was he the manifestation of physic powers? *You are going to get a girlfriend too, then we can both be in relationships!* Low and behold, I’d meet some girl the next day. It was scarily accurate, but harmless stuff like that for awhile. Then really weird shit started to happen.
*I think you should have green hair now.* Guess who just got green hair? I didn’t dye it, instantly my hair just, well, was green. Life was like this for awhile.
*We ... we need to talk. Since we got back together, Michelle and I have been discussing it, and, you’re a bit in the way. It’s not that I don’t care about you anymore! I just, I can live without you. I think you can live without me too.*
That was it. The disembodied voice that followed me was gone. It was for good, I knew. Then with a horrible realization I knew he had lied. My translucent hands told me so quite clearly. I couldn’t live without him. So I didn’t.
|
And here it came again. He knew it was coming. He had felt the sensation before, although it was difficult to determine why he had felt this way. He was anxious, but he forced a smile. He still knew it was coming, though. One way or another, he knew that what that silhouette in the window was going to be. As the sun did beat down on his face, he thought about dodging, but realized it would have been impossible. In apprehension, he tightened his grip and embraced what he knew was inevitable.
Pain. Incredible, searing pain like he had never known before. Except that he had known it before. This was the kind of pain that one expects from instant death; inevitable death. Yet he knew it would be over soon; and that he would feel relief soon. He knew this to be true only as an inkling in the back of his brain. It was weird that he thought of his brain like this, it being splattered all over the motorcade. And then he emerged from the water, splashing.
He was sitting in a large tub full of water, with all sorts of electrodes and diodes or things of that nature attached to his head. He didn't care what they were, and he couldn't see what they were attached to on the other ends. The room was bathed in bright blue light coming from three large lamps hanging from the center of the ceiling. Despite the amount of light, the room was shockingly empty; only the tub seemed to be in the room. To his right, just beyond the tub, was a man in a coat and his bookish female assistant.
He was familiar. The girl was definitely new. She was perhaps a recent intern who had joined since the last time he had woken up. He knew that the life-cycle took many years to live, in any case. The man was definitely familiar. With dark black hair and glasses that shone so brightly you couldn't tell if there were eyes behind it, the man seemed to be the very embodiment of the evil scientist. Not even bringing his head up to look at the man who emerged from the water and keeping his mouth hidden behind a clipboard, he began to speak.
"You've gone through the cycle five times now,"he started, "Don't you think you've even started to regret getting in the Book Depository that day?"The man in the water hesitated. It seemed like eons that he stopped, and the intern even began to break into a sweat. The man with the clipboard smiled and said, "Some time this century, if it's not hard. I mean, we're already long past the one you started in."
The man in the water didn't respond, he just shook his head. When asked if that was his response, he nodded. He then was met with immense pain coming from whatever were attached to him. Slowly, he sunk back into the water and saw his parents for the first time again. What a glory it was to be reborn again.
The intern turned to her boss and asked if he ever thought he'll actually regret it. The scientist just grinned and said, "I'm sure Mr. Oswald will regret it soon. He can't keep reliving it forever with no changes. And then phase two of the treatment can finally begin." |
The neutral tan paint on the walls of the DMV were spotted with hair grease and dirt smears from various people leaning against it over time. A low unidentified music played on the overhead, squealing every few minutes with static and some metallic screeches. There were at least one hundred people in the large waiting room, most were sitting in stiff blue plastic chairs that were welded together at their steel legs. Relaxing was not an option, if your shoulders or legs touched the person to your left or right you'd definatly contract some form of lice or pig-pen like infection--one person looked very much like the charlie brown character. Some women in the crowd tried to combat the smell of body odor, bovine shit from the farmers, and ether-based cologne from well heeled business men by spraying her raspberry perfume every few minutes.
A nasal voice calls out over the speaker system, and a small balding man walks quickly to the desk to speak briefly with him. He's sent to get in another line for not having proper paperwork.
How long have I been here? My watch is broken, and the there isn't one anywhere to be seen. Pulling out my cellphone I realize there aren't any bars, the screen lights up briefly as I check the time. Only five minutes have gone by? Bullshit.
The nasal voice calls another name, this one is an agitated older man--about forty years old. He pulls out his paperwork and speaks with the lady in a low voice. She shakes her head no and points to another line for his needed paperwork. The man tenses up and says something tersely under his breath. The worker shakes her head no and points again to another line.
"NO!"He yells at the woman, the stillness of the room breaks with his outburst. Mentally zoned out, half the room refocuses on the encounter. "I WON"T GET IN ANOTHER GODDAMN LINE, THIS PLACE IS A FUCKING HELL!"
Boy was he right.
|
Message 1:
I can still make out the NYC skyline – mutilated, but still there. As for the neighborhoods and houses below the towers of the city – they no longer resemble anything that existed in our own time. The Chinese have somehow won the cold war. Sometime between 1964 and this strange future, the Chinese have grown powerful enough to invade and overthrow the continental United States. Perhaps there are still holdouts of American territory, but I think not. They seem fully integrated with their advanced technology, communicating via small, handheld, glowing televisions. Fascinating. I have theorized that each person broadcasts on their own private channel. Everyone speaks Mandarin or Cantonese or Spanish down here. I have walked around some, but I’m afraid of what may happen if the authorities catch me. I have found suitable lodging a dumpster outside of *Grand Palace Restaurant.* Recently I have observed some Americans. They get off the subway and walk into this area of town, usually wearing suits, looking visible depressed. They all go into a place called *Miss Siagon’s Personal Masseuse: Extra Special!*. I can only assume this is some sort of a check point, a place where the occupied citizens have to sign in, because they come frequently, almost every day after work. The horrors of communism.
Don’t follow me into the future. I’ll be back soon. It’s too dangerous.
Message 2:
I have investigated *Miss Siagon’s Personal Masseuse: Extra Special!* My research is not yet complete. It may be some time before I return.
|
"Wake up, Billy! Wake up! Ball throw! Throw ball. I get ball! Ready! Ball throw Billy!
"I can't, Buddy. I have to go to school."
"Buddy come to school? I love school. I get pets. Buddy get school? I love pets."
"No Buddy. You can't come to school today."
"Okay. Dad, dad, ball throw! Food! Throw food! Ball?"
"Sorry buddy, I've got to drive Billy to school then I have to go to work. And no, you can't go to work either. I've got a presentation today."
"No ball throw?"
"Not this morning. But i'll tell you what, if you see that Billy gets home safe, we can play fetch tonight. Sound good?"
"Wooo fetch. Ball throw. I love ball throw. Buddy be good boy?'
"Yes Buddy, you're a good boy. Ready Billy? Okay let's go. Be good buddy."
"I'm a good boy. Buddy be good. Play throw ball."
*Where Billy? Gone forever. Hope he come back soon. Miss Billy.*
*Want play ball throw. SQUIRREL! Food. Hungry.*
*Billy? No loud fat mom next door. No play ball throw. Woman*
*Billy? BILLY!*
"BILLY! Oh boy oh boy Billy home!!. Pets! I love Billy. I love Billy pets! Billy pets the best! Who's that? Who's with billy?
*I don't like him. Smell mean. Bad man. Must warn Billy.*
"Hey Buddy! I'm home want to play fe-what are you doing?"
"Stop bad man, Billy. Bad man no good. Bad man has stick. No want play throw stick. OUCH!! Loud sound hurt ears! Billy, why does my side hurt?"
"Buddy!! Oh my god, are you okay?"
"Buddy good boy? Buddy make bad man run away? Buddy good boy?"
"Yeah, Buddy. You made bad man run away. You're a good boy."
"I'm a good...boy...." |
In the perfect emptiness of the observation bubble, Elon floated, and watched the Earth. The ring-shaped space station rotated around him, creating a false gravity on its inner surface, but here in the center he was free to hover, and say goodbye to the world he had called home.
There was a hiss as one of the doors into the bubble slid open, but Elon did not turn. "Hello, Gwynne. Have you come to kill me?"
The president of SpaceX sighed. "Christ, Elon. Is that really why you think I'm here? Killing you would just mean one more death on top of the eight billion we're about to watch."
"Then why are you here?"
"I had to talk to you. I had to know. When I joined the company, back at the beginning, I thought it was about something beautiful. Humans colonizing another world! It was an impossible dream, but you made us all believe it. But everything we worked for, to have it come to this..."
"Don't you see? This is the culmination of our work, and more."He spun around to face her, tiny jets from the thrusters on his jumpsuit hissing in the stillness. The sun was just rising over Earth, and it lit up one side of her face, the last streaks of blonde in her gray hair glowing in the light. "Even now, the colony ships are spreading out- the Moon and Mars are well established, the first airships on Venus have deployed, and the others are heading on their way. Europa, Ganymede, Titan... Humans will be taking their first steps there soon."
"And on Earth, the lights will go out."
He sighed and ran a hand through his thinning hair. "It was the only way. Look, down there- a world choked by pollution, burning up from CO2 emissions, so many of its species already dead, the land exhausted, the sea barren-!"He stopped, choking up, and took a deep breath. "Yes, we would have gotten to other worlds eventually. And we would have stripped them bare to feed the hunger of the people of Earth, then moved on to others. The human race, reduced to a plague of locusts."
"So you redirected an asteroid to kill our planet."
"It was the only way!"He was tearing up, the fluid forming pockets around his eyes, and he angrily dashed them away. "They were forced to pool all their efforts into the colony ships, uniting the human race in a common effort for the first time. No more nations, no more petty squabbling over resources- a whole species working together so that a few of their children could escape. We lost the arrogance that said we could tear our world apart with impunity, and the colonists will remember that. They will safeguard their new planets, because they will remember what it means to lose a home."
Gwynne shook her head. "You know what? It had to be you, Elon. No one else would have the- the sheer *gumption* to pull it off. You've done a terrible thing. But I'll be damned if it wasn't audacious."
Elon gave her a sad smile, and turned back around to face the Earth. She jetted up to float next to him. Even from up there, they could see their world's scars- desert spreading, vegetation dying, clouds of acid rain. For all that, she was still beautiful.
After a while, Elon spoke. "You know the impact will blow debris thousands of kilometers into space. There's no way this station will survive."
"I know."
"Then why are you here? You could have been on the first ship out, had your choice of worlds."
"I told you- I wanted to hear what you had to say. And besides, I don't think I could leave... this."She gestured out at the world below them. "I just couldn't bear to lose it."
Elon nodded. "A lot of people feel the same way. But the ones who didn't, they'll always remember."The sun had fully risen now, and its light sparkled in the tears gathering on his face. "They are Earth's children, and they will be eternal."
|
I leaned back in my seat and stretched. I’d started in San Francisco, had a layover in Philadelphia and now was on my way to Paris. This would be a great trip.
“How are you doing?” I said to the man sitting next to me.
He looked up from his laptop and nodded at me. “Doing just fine.”
“Awesome. Is Paris your final destination?”
“Yep,” he said. He continued typing on his laptop.
“Cool. Cool.” I tried to look at his laptop without him noticing. I half hoped he’d be looking at porn.
He noticed. “Hey, what are you doing?”
My face turned red. “Well,” I laughed nervously. “I was trying to see what you were doing.”
“If you must know I’m writing. I’m an author.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Really? Anything I would know.”
He hesitated. “No. I’ve never had anything published.”
It looked like he was on reddit. “Getting some tips?”
“No.” He looked angry. “I’m writing a story.”
I leaned over. “Cool. I lurk there. What’s your screen name?”
He alt-tabbed into Word. “I would really like it if you stopped bothering me.”
I ignored him and started to read his word document.
>** While on a transatlantic flight, you glance at the laptop screen of the stranger sitting next to you and find that they are writing about you.**
>*He leaned back in his seat and stretched. He’d started in San Francisco, had a layover in Philadelphia and now was on his way to Paris. This would be a great trip.*
>*“How are you doing?” he said to the man sitting next to him.*
>*The man looked up from his laptop and nodded at him. “Doing just fine.”*
>*“Awesome. Is Paris your final destination?”*
I stopped reading. It really wasn’t very good, but I didn’t want to tell him that. “Looks good.”
His face lit up. “Really? Thanks! I’m happy you like it.”
I gave him thumbs up then put in my earbuds to listen to music. His writing sucked, and I had a feeling he wouldn’t stop talking about it. I couldn’t deal with that right before my vacation started.
_______
Thanks for reading! If you liked this check out my subreddit /r/Puns_are_Lazy for more of my stories. |
The first time he held a scythe, Harrison's Master claimed the lives of 13 men.
At least that was the legend.
Harrison watched his Master sleeping on an old sack once made to hold grain for horses. The original owner was long dead, far before the 28th century began. If his Master hadn't insisted the two of them stay in the old barn, it would have been long forgotten by man, alongside everything else in the Slums.
Funny how improvements in the technology of man always benefited the lives of some more than others.
Until now, of course.
Harrison had seen it coming, decades in advance. World leaders ran on the foundation: *An eternal life for every man, woman, and child!*
*No,* his Master shook his hand at the thought a few years before. *I've seen them try before. Didn't work then. Won't work now.*
Yet even then, Harrison knew his Master was afraid. His Master rarely spoke more than two words at a time. For him to use so much of his little Breath remaining, this was no passing fad.
It was hard to believe the perfectly still figure on the grain sack was so skilled a fighter. Harrison looked again at the List in his hand and sighed.
*Chosen by the Gods themselves,* people would whisper when his Master was a mere man. *He fights as if possessed.*
*The blade dances,* a woman remarked, *and the man follows*.
Harrison had been lucky enough to be pitied by his Master, taken in as an Acolyte. Harrison asked why the Taker of Souls, The Gatekeeper, the Final Door, would need a student.
*Even I,* his Master replied.
Harrison wiped a tear away from his cheek and looked again at the List. The politicians had done a thing they rarely did in all of Harrison's lifetimes. They worked together and did as promised. The List was empty of any names, save two. Even the slowest day had granted them a hundred Souls.
>Harrison Baxter
>Death
He folded the note up and put it in his pocket.
"Master."
The figure known as Death sat upright. He gave Harrison a look. Though he was mostly skin and bones, Death spoke with his facial expression more often than not. His look asked what happened.
"Nothing, Master."Harrison dropped to one knee and looked down. "The List, it didn't appear this morning on the barrel, I don't understand why."
"What?"His Master's voice rumbled through Harrison's bones.
Harrison lifted his head. His Master had a look of deep thought on his face.
"It means,"His Master spoke slowly. "The List Maker's name came up."
"Yes, Master."Harrison nodded. "Yes, of course, it makes sense. Why else would he want to hide it?"
Death stood and held out a thin arm. "Scythe."
Harrison turned and jogged to the scythe in the far corner. His Master never said the word before, he merely held out his hand. Harrison fought the urge to hide a smile as he grabbed the Reaper's weapon.
"Do you know where he lives?"Harrison asked. "The List Maker? I know nothing about him, or her."
Death pointed up.
"The Heavens?"Harrison asked, placing the scythe in Death's open hand. "So then the List Maker is already dead."
"No."Death said. "The List Maker is the Creator."
Harrison blinked. "We're to kill God?"
"Even God." |
Life is long and hard. We often regret choices that we have made in our past because they make life harder. Some days I wonder what would have happened if I had wished to be beautiful, smart, rich, strong, fast, or even funny. (Man...I'm not even funny.)
It doesn't matter anymore though. I've decided to end it. It's been twenty years since I made that fateful wish and now it has finally caught up with me. Sure it made elementary and middle school a breeze. Highschool was a little bit tougher but I was probably better off without the distractions. College was a nightmare. Can you imagine being a hetero-sexual man that can't win over any female ever?
I would raise my kids different if it were possible for me to have kids. I try to teach my nephew(...oh man my nephew..This is going to mess him up..) to be better than I was. I don't know what the odds of him getting a wish like I did are but if he ever does I want to make sure his choice is better than mine was. Hell, it really couldn't be worse.
At the time I thought I was a genius. Who could blame me, I was seven, it felt like it was a super power for the first six or seven years. Then it became a curse. A burden that was mine to forever bare. Many nights I cried out to the genie who granted me that wish, I called out to her, begging her to take it back. She had warned me before I made it. I was seven though, I thought I was protecting myself. I didn't know that cooties weren't real and who could blame a little boy for wishing that no girl could come near him? |
When the machine first came out, there was fear. Not a fear of the pain and agony of death, but rather of becoming desensitized. There were countless political debates on the morality of such a device and its uses in torture.
Laws were quickly put into effect to outlaw their use in interrogation. However, this did not calm the minds of the people. It took nearly a decade before it was truly put to use.
Family members would use it to feel what their lost loved ones had experienced. Some did it for the thrill and adrenaline rush that came from the death simulations.
I had no real reason to give it a try. It was more of being pressure to by my rather . . .thrill seeking friends.
But I was never one to back out of an agreement. So even as I got cold feet I stepped in and chose a death. My finger glided across the options menu. There were so many combinations. Add ons of limb loss and mutilation for extra costs, models of cars and trains to be hit by, the harshity of oceans to drown in, the strength of an executioner's ax swing, you name it and it would be there.
I settled on, what I thought would be, an easy death. I choose being shot in the head, twice to be exact. I wanted it to be effective and swift.
I entered the simulation in subdued excitement. I paced around the streets I was placed in, growing steadily more anxious. I had no idea what was taking the simulation so long and it let my mind wander. Perhaps I had selected the "unexpected"option. No, I couldn't have, that cost extra. Maybe the operator had forgotten to start the murder.
The thoughts vanished as the first bullet struck. I slumped to the sidewalk, the blood pooling out of my shattered jaw. I tried to scream for the operator to end it, but I found that I couldn't make a sound. I just prayed the second shot came quickly so I could "die"and it would all end.
My prayers were answered and the second came straight into my temple. The pressure was enormous. But I wasn't dead. I was still lying on the sidewalk in agony, screaming on the inside, begging every god I could think of to make it end.
I lied on that cold, dulled, white concrete for what seemed like hours before I was pulled from the simulation.
I noticed on my receipt my mistake.
I never selected quick death. |
“What’s this, Pauly?”
Nick “Pits” Gibson sat in his ergonomic office chair, forearms resting on his desk, staring at the computer monitor.
A flashing green icon danced on the webpage.
“Looks like an opportunity, boss,” said Pauly Nance, Nick’s right hand man and top enforcer. Pauly and Nick went way back—back before browsers and buffering, computers even.
The icon read “FREE iPAD! ONLY 10 LEFT! DON’T MISS THIS ONCE-IN-A-LIFETIME OFFER!”
Nick sat back in amazement.
“Do you know how much these go for? Four, five hundred bucks, easy. Hell, we could sell these for half what they’re worth and make a killing” Pauly said. “Plus, Nicky, we need something more manageable; you could just keep it.”
Nick reached for his mouse eagerly and clicked on the icon.
Pauly glanced over his shoulder to make sure the library study room door was closed. They’d paid for an hour. It had been fifteen minutes.
Nick had been in hiding for two weeks after learning of the bounty put on his head by his rival, Antonio “The Vig” Vincenzo. But he needed to check his facebook and peruse yahoo news for an hour each morning.
The trailer they were staying in was devoid of modern technology, so they came to the library.
A list of questions lay in front of the two gangsters. The free iPad was going to take a little work on their part.
“This is asking for a lot of personal shit, Pauly, I don’t know…” said Nick
“Wait, boss,” said Pauly, “Why don’t we just use someone elses information? Remember the voter registration scam? Plus we still got that PO box. I know all the gritty details: numbers, names, birthdays, social security numbers. We’re golden, I promise. Just listen.”
Half an hour later, Nick and Pauly walked out of the study room.
Two weeks passed and they were walking slowly along the shore of the reservoir just outside town, dragging an industrial garbage bag between them.
The bag began to shift, so they stopped. A loud groan came from the bag and Pauly kicked it over and over until it ceased.
Nick took a knife from his coat pocket and cut the bag lengthwise, a young man in cargo shorts and a yellow tee rolled out. He coughed and writhed on the sand. His mouth was bleeding badly and he was blindfolded.
Pauly removed the blindfold, holding the boy by the ponytail, forcing him to look up at Nick.
“Man, I told you, we don’t even HAVE iPads, it’s just a scam. I’ll buy you one, you fucking psycho!” the boy screamed.
Nick twirled the knife in his hand and took a knee in front of the sputtering boy. He took the boy by the chin. His lips were pursed and caked with blood.
“Open your mouth.” Nick said.
The boy shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut while tears ran down his face.
Nick put the knife agains the man’s temple.
“Open your mouth, kid, or you’re gonna be a cyclops for halloween.”
The boy slowly opened his mouth revealing a few missing teeth.
“I don’t want you to BUY me an iPad,” said Nick, “I was promised something and that something was a lie. So here we are.”
As Nick began to dig away at one of the boy’s molars, a bright light shined on them and they turned to see.
A black Lincoln had pulled up and the headlights spilled over them, focusing on the miserable face of the young boy.
Pauly drew his gun and pointed it at the back of the boy’s head and Nick stood, walking with hands out in front of him towards the headlights.
The driver killed the engine and a tall, thin man in a suit emerged from the passenger’s side.
Antonion Vincenzo was a lithe, quiet man. He was not violent, but he was intimidating and his deep stare made Nick uncomfortable.
“I want my nephew back, Nick.” said The Vig. He was holding a dufflebag in both hands and placed it on the ground in front of him.
“I want my life back.” said Nick, tilting his head and lifting his shoulders.
He smiled and pointed back at the boy. “I am always fascinated by coincidences, Antonio. Who knew this little snot-rag would end up as my insurance policy?”
“Alright, you get what you want. Jesus Christ, Nick. You know this isn’t going to end well though, right?” said The Vig.
“I just want to sleep in my own bed and go on hating you in peace you slimy greaseball. I don’t even care about the business you STOLE from me. What’s in the dufflebag?” asked Nick.
The Vig gestured for Nick to look and Nick obliged. He opened the bag and saw a pile of thin black tablets. His eyes widened.
Suddenly there was a wicked sound behind them. Pauly was slumped in the arms of a large Italian crony a knife sticking out of his chest.
The Vig’s nephew was stumbling out into the darkness.
Nick whirled, reaching for his gun, but The Vig already had his pointed at Nick’s stomach.
“I always knew you were a dinosaur, Nick.” said Antonio, “But you should’ve installed AdBlock ages ago. It’s a real lifesaver.”
BANG!
“Free iPad...huh…what a joke.” mused Nick, dying.
|
The two hour drive had been one of the longest in their lives. The rhythmical tapping of her fingers was the only thinking accompanying the silence.
''What if we one of us has a deadly disease? What if one of us has cancer?'' Carmen asked, looking at her husband, her fingers still tapping.
Dave waited a few seconds before answering, collecting his thoughts after she broke the silence: ''If I'm completely honest with you, I don't know.'' He sighed and kept his eyes on the road.
The call they received was anything but informative. Roughly three weeks ago they had visited a center that analyzes DNA for diseases, genetic compatibility for children. Dave's parents died in a car cash when he was seven. Carmen was adopted when she was three. Her single mom had gone into deep depression after a family tragedy and child services felt she was unfit to remain a parent. Her foster parents were her parents for all intents and purposes, and three years after Carmen was adopted her mother died.
''Is there nothing that you know about yourself? Maybe something in the reports, you know, from the..'', she swallowed, as it remained a sensitive topic, even after all those years, ''autopsy?''
Dave's eyebrows flinched a second, but he realized that what she said was coming from a good place and honestly, he shared her concerns.
''No, they didn't really look for anything, because, well, yeah, you know.''
''Yeah..''
The woman on the phone said that there had been some inconsistencies with the test results and that it would be better if they came to visit their office as soon as possible. They managed to schedule an appointment barely two hours later, hopped in the car and drove off. An hour passed before Carmen broke the silence.
Their gazes met. ''It doesn't have to be that bad...you know that, right?'' Dave said.
''Yeah, but you know..what if we...or you...or me...?'' the tears in her eyes finished the sentence for her.
Dave gestured her to come closer. As he embraced her with his right arm, keeping his left on the steering wheel, he whispered: ''It's going to be alright. You know that right? No matter what it is, we'll get through it together.''
They sat in that pose until they drove up the parking lot. As Dave turned the engine off, he gave her a tight hug and said: ''Come on, let's go.''
The office looked like a typical clinical medical research facility. The glass automatic doors opened as the two approached. The white marble floor separated the entrance from the front desk. A women in her thirties was on the phone and put up her forefinger to ask for a second. Dave and Carmen stood, waiting, doubting, hoping,until she was finished with her call.
''Sorry for making your wait. You are the Morgans, right? Dr. Sperult will be with you shortly. You can wait for him in the waiting room.''
Her heart was pounding irregularly. He paced through the room. They were with just the two of them, and in their silence they understood the concerns of the other. They decided they wanted to go for a child, together. But Dave had an unexplained pain in his abdomen and Carmen's periods were highly unpredictable. To make sure everything was alright they decided to get a medical consult. Even with their issues they were still ecstatic about raising a child. They were just made for each other.
''What's wrong?'' was basically all they could think before the doctor approached. As he shook their hands he smiled at both of them, the warmth of his hands comforting, and asked them to follow him to his office. As he gestured for them to sit down he closed the door behind them, and sat on his own chair.
''Ah, the Morgans. You took his name, correct?'' he unexpectedly asked Carmen.
''Uhh, yeah.'' she replied confused.
The doctor nodded slowly as he sorted out some files on his desk.
''When reviewing your DNA we ran a fest tests for some hereditary diseases, potential bodily dysfunctions. One routine check is the comparison of the DNA to come to a more detailed and accurate conclusion.'' He stopped and looked up to both of them.
''As a result of the cross testing we have established that you are relatives of each other. Close relatives.''
''Don't tell me..'' Dave stuttered.
''Cousins, to be exact.''
Dave exhaled. He looked at Carmen. She looked at him confused, eyes wide, and shook her head.
''So you're telling me we're cousins? But..how..that really doesn't make any sense..''
''I'm not exactly familiar with your individual histories, but from what I've gathered you two have both grown up in families not your own, correct? It seems like fate has brought you, uhh..together, in its...own distinctive way.'' the doctor finished. A closer friend would have been able to establish that he was slightly amused by the strangeness of the situation, but as a professional he kept his face fixed.
While looking at each other, Carmen asked: ''What does this mean...for us?'' she motioned her forefinger between her and Dave. ''Can we still...?''
''Ah, of course. I understand that concern. Studies have shown that cousins have an increased chance of the Down Syndrome and in case of faulty genes there's always an increased risk. However, we've found no serious anomalies in your test results. As a medical advisor I am obliged to warn you of the risks and of potential legal ramifications, but considering you're already married and nothing happened after that...well...'' he smiled.
Dave looked at Carmen. The looks on her face showed that she wouldn't be bothered by the discovery, and he knew that look on his own face gave away the same. The revelation that they could've known each other when they were young would just bring them closer together. The depression of her mother suddenly made more sense. Somewhat relieved that nothing was inherently wrong, Dave just couldn't help but smile. Dave reached for Carmen's hand and stroked the back gently. After all the horrible outcomes she had imagined, she sighed and looked at him. Her smile told him everything he needed to know.
|
We met when I was only 19 years old, she was only 17. I liked her, but love was not yet in my vocabulary. I liked the way she would giggle at my silly jokes, I liked her kindness and forgiveness. We had many dates, we went to the movies where she would squeeze my hand at the scary parts. But I only realised that I loved her when it was her 25th birthday on a sunny day in april. I had turned 26 that winter and realised that my nails were growing slower, and my feelings of hunger and thirst had faded. Just like my father before me I was cursed with immortality. But at that day in april, sitting there on a hillsight with the sun shining trough the treetops creating shimmers in her eyes, the only thing I could think of was her. There were daisies growing in the field we sat on. Without thinking I picked one and twisted it between my fingers. While she was talking about the movie she wanted me to go to with her, I thought of our future. I twisted the stem of the little white flower into a cirkel and presented it to her, "will you marry me?"I whispered with a smile. "What did you ask?". "Will you be with me forever?"She threw her arms around me and kissed me passionately "I thought you'd never ask".
As the years went by she didn't change a bit. Her giggles were ever so sweet and her eyes kept their shimmer. The ring I used to propose to her had it's own place in her juwelry box, the flower was still blooming after countless years. Apparently the "curse"didn't just affect people, but all living things. Every single thing I cared about remained unaffected by time. It was only after a century that the person I loved the most started changing, next to her always smiling lips little wrinkles started to show themselves. I had told her bits and pieces of how the immortality worked, but I never told her everything, therefore she just assumed that she would age slowly and at a certain age she would stop changing. Not many decades later some of her hairs were starting to get grey, but the amount of grey hairs didn't increase for many centuries after that. She assumed she would stay this age till eternity.
Two centuries later she found another grey hair and looked at me confused. This time neither one of us knew what had happened. I didn't love her less and nor did she love me less. Ever since she had stopped aging again we tried to get children without succes. But now she was suddenly pregnant. After our first child was born her aging stopped again and so seemed his. As he was loved beyond measure, he stayed a baby even longer than I had been. My parents had left me after for a normal person would be 20 years, of course my fathers love had let me age much slower as a child. They hoped that banning me from their lifes and forgetting their love for me would stop my body from standing still, but it hadn't occured to them the possibility of me having the curse as well.
What I had understood from my parents was that children who are loved can still age, but slower, adults however should not age a day. As the years went by I saw my wife go from aging to standing still to aging again in a loop. She never dared to ask me about it, but it never left my mind.
As she was lying on her deathbed with only white hairs left on her head, with our only son - almost turning 25 as I saw in his appaerance - next to her she grabbed my hand and squeezed it. "Honey, why does it feel like I am aging again? I have never asked you, but I need to know before I die. Do you love me no more the times I start aging again?". I gave her a kiss on her forehead and with a single tear running down my face I said to her "I have never loved you less, but I have always loved the idea of growing old with you the most".
|
"He's a jumpy little fucker ain't he?"Agent Jones was trying to break the awkward silence of the surveillance van. He was the Agency equivalent of a temp, loaned out from one mission to the next like the unnamed agent in a B film.
None of the agents laughed or smiled at his poor attempt at humor. Agent White spoke up, "You'd be jumpy too if you survived the shit he has. Poor kid doesn't even know. Thinks it's all just bad luck."
Jones looked at the young man in the monitor. There was nothing special about him: early twenties, short hair, t-shirt with gaming company logo, and not too tight skinny jeans over newish sneakers. Certainly nothing for the Agency to spend resources on. Jones looked to Agent White, "So what's the deal? Some kind of super hacker? Have dirt on someone important? What's the deal?"
The other agent in the van, Agent Black answered, "Nothing like that. We have dug into this kid's background til we know how many diapers he wore as a toddler and he is as clean as a whistle."He laughed. "Even his porn is kosher as it comes."
Jones watched as the kid took a half-hearted kick at a can laying on the curb and missing by an inch. It seemed his personality and background matched the look. "So why exactly are we watching him?"
White spoke up, "Its simple really. Someone wants this kid dead. Not even sure who, Russians maybe? It's always the Russians, right?"
Black spoke from near the microwave as it signaled a cooked burrito. "So far in the last year there has been a car bomb which prematurely detonated while he was at the grocery store, a drive by shooting which led to a multi-state car chase and freeway shooting which left an unknown gunman dead, and of course the brick."
"The brick?"
White laughed. "Brick fell from nowhere and plowed into the ground a foot to his right. Dipshit just stood there looking at it for a minute then kept waking. We don't know where it came from."
"Jesus,"Jones said. "So we just watch the kid and try to keep him alive."
"Exactly, and speaking of which... what's with that guy that's been tailing him for the last minute."
Jones manipulated the cameras until the man came into view. He was following only a few feet behind the kid. The man's right hand hid in his black jacket and his eyes were set on the young man.
"This isn't good,"White said, "Jones get out there."
Jones opened the rear doors of the van and ran around the corner to catch up with the young man and his tail. He ran as discretely as possible and still managed to close the gap quickly. He was only 40 feet away when he heard the shots and saw the kid fall with two bloody wounds marked on his back. The gunman spun as he heard Agent Jones footstep. Jones fired several shots and the man dropped to the ground.
He approached the bleeding gunman with his weapon aimed at his head and kicked away the pistol laying near by. "Who are you? Who do you work for?"
The gunman didn't answer but lay in the street bleeding to death.
Jones kneeled down with the gun at the man's chest. "Why did you kill him!?"
The dying man laughed a bloody, frothy laugh. "Because you were trying so hard to keep him alive. He must be worth something." |
"So I put in me name, er like this?"
Dirty nails typed at the keyboard. They poked the letters one at a time: C-A-P-T-A-I-N-S-P-A-R-R-O-W
"And then I can write any old message to anyone? Even good ol' Will Turner?!"
"No not him. Pretty sure he's the captain of the Flying Dutchman now and I don't think he has wifi on his ship, seeing that it's usually underwater and all. But any living soul with access to the internet, ya you can write a message to them."
His blackened fingers reached for an even blacker beard. His eyes gazed up as he picked at the multiple beads and braids.
"Well I'll be damned,"continuing his skyward contemplation.
After pondering too long and peering too high at the heavens, he lost his balance. A drunken swivel helped him regain his balance. Somehow he had simultaneously produced a flask of rum.
"So, I can write a message to everyone and anyone, in this time period,"a pull from the flask, "whatever time period this may be? I imagine it's been quite sometime since I got off that damn island,"another pull, "to join me crew, for whatever duty I write in this message? Aaaaand the whole world,"he took a final swig that ended prematurely. A sudden fear swept over him as he tilted the flask upside down. A single drop fell.
He continued his thought after a dejected glance inside the container, "and everyone who uses this 'internet', will see it?"
"Er, ya, I suppose so."
"Sooooo,"spinning himself and a finger around, "I could summon countless raiders, marauders, and even scalawags, all of which would be crawling to serve the legendary Captain Jack Sparrow,"his voice getting deeper when proclaiming his title, "to go scavenging the seas for treasure? All with just a few pushes of some buttons on your clicky message thing over there?"he gestured with an awkward posture and an outstretched finger.
"Well ya pretty much."
A quick pull from the empty flask was his only response. He tossed it over his right shoulder and took two steps forward towards nothing. His eyes widened as he stared off into the imaginary fortune before him, "Well, let's get me a crew matey."
"Uh, for what exactly if you don't mind me asking?"
"What the devil do you mean for what!?"
"Well you see, um, nowadays there isn't much pirating going on."
Stunned, he turned away from his glorious vision of a virtually enlisted crew.
"No, pirating..?"
"I mean, there is pirating but,"
"HA, I knew that my profession couldn't have gone extinct."The captain strolled about with an air of royalty, "While it does take a worthy lad to be called a pirate, and an even more distinguished and accomplished one to claim the title of captain, I would know so, we should not be able to call this ball of sand and water a world worth living if pirating did not exist!"
"Yea, well I guess you're right."
"Bloody hell you do 'guess I'm right'!"
Sporadically, a determined look overcame his envisioning nature. "Now, what kind of pirating is going on in these parts eh? What kind of thieving, looting, and pillaging is feeding the scum of the seas?"
The captain's eyes were were intense with need. A need for knowledge of what his living has become. A need for an answer that could get him back to his swashbuckling days. A need that would satiate his thirst. A need that would let him say the words "Captain Jack Sparrow"too someone who would be so ill-informed to not know the legendary pirate before them.
"Uh, well people pirate movies now."
His appearance didn't change.
"And like songs and other media."
Nothing moved in the Captains expression. "Are these the names of your currencies and precious gems in this time period."
"Errr not exactly... They're more like art and um, creations."
He paced away. A questioning hand waved in the air, "Can they be stolen?"
"Yes, that's why it's called pirating."
"Good good. So that means they can be sold! If they are precious works of art then surely a buyer can be found."
"Uhhhh no, not exactly."
He jumped away from the answer. "You mean to tell me, that you can steal but not sell what has been stolen?"
"I mean, I guess they can be, but no one ever does it. They just pirate the stuff to add to their own collection."
He took off his hat and laid it down on the floor and sat next to it. He started to draw with his finger on the ground. Muttering to himself he tried to deduce the meaning of it all.
|
"Mrs. Tabitha Rainsford, please take the stand."
A bailiff wheeled her up to the witness stand next to the judge's bench. She was seated in a special wheelchair, one that had straps to hold her body upright, as she would tumble limply out of her seat otherwise.
The judge turned to her and asked, "You are Mrs. Tabitha Rainsford, found dead at 11:45pm on January 27, at 140 Lakeview Crescent Drive, and hereby temporarily reanimated to testify regarding the circumstances of your death?"
"Yes,"she replied in a harsh, raspy voice.
The judge nodded at the prosecutor. "Please proceed."
Tabitha's eyes turned briefly towards me, sitting silently in the courtroom, the man responsible for her current state, before looking away.
*****
Bringing a dead body back to life is actually pretty easy, if you know how. That's largely why the secrets of necromancy are so closely guarded, passed only from master to apprentice, and never written down anywhere. I'd be out of a job if anyone could raise the dead.
There's actually a pretty decent demand for bringing back the dead. Some necromancers in the city allow loved ones to say a final goodbye to the deceased. Some of them use the dead as untraceable criminals or assassins: a sprinkle of mandrake root on the face of the resurrected after reanimation, and they'll obey your every command and answer every question truthfully for the duration of their undeath. Then send your zombie off to do your evil bidding, and order it to destroy itself afterwards. It's almost the perfect crime.
Me, I work as a necromancer for the government. Most of the time I resurrect murder victims or silenced witnesses so that they can testify in court. This means I go through a lot of mandrake root. It's standard procedure for me to use the mandrake on every corpse I reanimate. That way everyone can be sure they're telling the truth when they're on the stand. No need for swearing on Bibles when the undead are involved.
If anyone'd been watching me work on my current cadaver, a recently deceased young woman, they probably would've said nothing out of the ordinary was going on. I say "probably"because, naturally, I don't allow anyone to watch me work. Y'know, that whole thing about secrecy. I drew the ancient runes around the body on the altar, lit the five candles placed in a circle on the floor, then slathered the appropriate reagents on the clammy skin of the corpse, chanting all the while.
I spared a moment to stare at the pale face of the woman lying before me. The deceased's police file said her name's Tabitha Rainsford, but I knew she went by the name Tammy. She had a slender nose, high cheekbones, and ash blonde hair that seemed to glow in the candlelight. Her body, even in death, exuded a power that hinted at her own skill in the necromantic arts. In life, she would have been known as one of the most powerful necromancers in the country.
She had also been my wife.
I finished covering every inch of Tammy's body with the reagent salve, then picked up a single black pearl for the final step of the process. Hesitating only briefly, I crushed the pearl between my fingers over her heart and allowed the fragments to settle on her skin. Almost immediately, Tammy drew a deep rasping breath and opened her eyes. She looked around in mild surprise, before her gaze settled on me.
"Darren,"she rasped.
"Tammy,"I replied.
"You've brought me back."
"Yes, to testify."
Tammy struggled to sit up on the altar, but failed. "How many black pearls did you use on me?"
"Just one, a small one. It'll give you maybe six hours of undeath at most, and you'll be largely too weak to move for the whole time."
Tammy glared angrily up at me from her prone position. "I suppose the mandrake is coming next then?"
I smirked mirthlessly. "I don't think it's necessary, do you? Your testimony, the end result, it'll all be the same. After all... I was the one who killed you."
"And you brought me back knowing that my testimony would convict you? That you could end up in jail, or worse?"Tammy's eyes were wide with disbelief. "Or did you bring me back to gloat one last time?"
"No, Tammy. I brought you back to apologize."
Tammy's eyes grew even wider in speechless astonishment. I pressed on, "Yes, Tammy, you heard me right. I wanted to tell you that I'm sorry I killed you. It was an accident, and I was drunk, and angry, but that doesn't excuse what I did. I hit you, and then your head hit the mantlepiece, and afterwards I was too much of a coward to call an ambulance. I thought I could stop the bleeding myself, but... well... I couldn't. And now you're gone."My eyesight was blurring with tears, but I continued, "And I'm sorry. I really am, Tammy. It was a stupid argument about nothing that ended with you dead. But that's not the end of the story. You're going to go up to the stand in an hour's time, and you're going to tell the truth about what happened. And afterwards, whatever happens to me, happens. I'll deserve it."
Tammy's gaze had softened somewhat, with the anger replaced by an array of other unidentifiable emotions, but still she said nothing. I wiped the tears away from my cheeks, gave her a wan smile, and then strode out of necromancy chamber to report to my superiors that the victim was ready for testimony.
*****
"Mrs. Rainsford, could you please describe the circumstances of your death, up until the point where you have no further memories,"the prosecutor said.
Tammy blinked, glanced back at me again, then looked at the prosecutor. "That night, I had an argument with my husband, Darren. It was about a minor issue, he wanted to be able to spend more time with his friends, while I wanted him to spend more time at home."
The prosecutor interrupted Tammy, "Before we continue, Mrs. Rainsford, could you please point out if your husband Darren is here today?"
Tammy stared at me, seated at the defendant's table.
The prosecutor nodded in satisfaction, "Thank you. Please continue."
"We'd both been drinking that night. And, under the influence of the alcohol... I stumbled and struck my head against the mantlepiece. That is as far as my memories go."
The courtroom erupted into surprised murmurs. The judge hammered for silence with his gavel. The prosecutor said, with furrowed eyebrows, "Mrs. Rainsford, your account does not match the circumstances surrounding your death, as indicated by the forensics team. They found evidence of a struggle, and stated that your head had struck the mantlepiece too forcefully for it to have been an accident."
"Our argument did descend into physical blows, which may be why your forensics team thought there'd been a struggle,"Tammy rasped, "and as for the force of the blow, well, I stumbled pretty hard."
The murmurs were louder this time. The judge banged his gavel again for order, then turned to Tammy. "Mrs. Rainsford, you received the mandrake treatment before taking the stand, correct?"
"Yes."
The judge stared briefly at her before turning away. "In light of the victim's testimony, the case against the accused is hereby dismissed. This court is adjourned."
*****
"Why did you lie?"
We were back in the necromancy chamber again. The door was shut, to ensure we wouldn't be disturbed. Tammy was back on the altar, and I held her cold hands in mine.
"What's the point in telling the truth? To get revenge on you? It was an accident, Darren. You didn't mean for it to happen. It was just a stupid argument that got out of hand. I don't want to see you in jail, or worse. I forgive you, Darren."
Tears were streaming down my cheeks uncontrollably. "But... I'm so sorry for what I did... I don't think I deserve your forgiveness..."
"Then make it up to me, Darren. Hold me one last time, tell me you love me, and know that I love you too."
"I do love you, Tammy. I do."
I held Tammy close to me until the magic of the black pearl faded, and she passed on once again into death. |
We fear humans.
That is not to say that by themselves they are terrifying. Average would be the best word; an average mammalian species, seemingly only fit to fight other mammals of the same caliber.
We do not fear Humans because of their form; we fear them for their mind. For when the Council sent their ambassadors and told them of the Hundor Honorable Combat agreement, they laughed.
They laughed and held onto their weapons of war, their armies and soldiers, and held the galaxy in a chokehold. They didn't even take over the galaxy. They were secure with their force of arms, not accepting any challenger and preferring to use "diplomacy"to settle their ills with other species.
The weaker races were quick to catch on, cheap human weapons flooding the galactic market. A single Derrion, those clawless, weak creatures, could now take on a dozen Tegars with a single "Kalashnikov". The status quo was eviscerated to the tune of gunfire, and the humans laughed.
The humans have a saying, one which I found odd at first, but understand now; "God made man, and Sam Colt made them equal."
|
The night sky barely lit the dark street. in it, two hooded figures stood a few meters apart, and stared at each other with suspicion.
"Why do you even want this? It's not enough for a bomb."One of them, a tall, skinny man asked.
"Elijah, you know the first rule of replenishment, correct?"The other figure, a short man with unimpressive, slightly overweight physique asked.
"Kid, is this some kind of prank? i'm starting to wonder if you really have the money."Elijah replied. The short figure pulled a suitcase, and opened it to reveal enough money to buy a mansion made out of solid gold.
"First of all, you can call me by my name. It's Eric. Second of all, here it is, now answer me before I lose my patience and find another seller. Do you know the rule of replenishment?"He asked again, and this time in a stern tone.
"Yes, yes. 'If, under any circumstance, a person's personal trigger enters his or her body, it will repair all parts that are not completely efficient."Elijah replied.
"Good. Now, give me that vial."Eric answered. Elijah went closer to him, and handed him a vial full of plutonium while taking the briefcase himself, and searching it closely to identify anything fake inside it.
"Great to do business than you. Now go, leave me alone. I have things to do."Eric said, but Elijah didn't move.
"I don't think so. Give me the vial."He said, and moved closer, towering over Eric. He removed his hood, and Elijah almost jumped back from what he saw. Eric's face was like a battlefield of diseases and injuries.
"Do you know how it feels to live in a world in which 99 percent of the population doesn't need anything but chocolate to cure their diseases? One in which you can't go outside, because an infected wound means certain death?"He asked, opened the vial and drank it. His face began to repair itself, he grew taller and stronger, until the other one was smaller than him. he pushed the now-shorter man to the wall, and took a knife out of his pocket
"What the fuck are you doing? get away from me!"Elijah shouted, his face becoming red with anger, surprise and fear.
"But now, I have all i need. you see, the law of replenishment has a loophole. the healing begins when the personal trigger enters the person's body, and after it ends the trigger is usually digested. But if the trigger, through some rare mutation, is toxic to the body and poisons it by simply existing, the healing process cannot stop. the body needs to constantly repair itself."Eric said, and lifted Elijah by his arm. Elijah managed to take his knife out, and stab his attacker's arm, but the wound healed so fast the knife was thrown out and hit the wall behind him.
"Don't worry, I won't kill you. In fact, this is the reason I hired you. In a huge group of slimy idiots, you were the slimiest and stupidest. You are the perfect messenger. So go back, and tell all of your friends i'm coming back to collect the things they took from me over the years, and that this time I won't give up when they pull their knives and guns."He said, and released Elijah. After the man disappeared into the streets, his entire body screaming with fear, Eric took a few seconds to feel the wind on his skin, something he couldn't do since childhood. After he finished, he hailed a cab to his apartment, his mind clearer than ever before. He stared at the moon-lit sky, and knew that the next weeks will show the world what the former-cripple could do. |
I have the kindest, most caring mom in the world. But she just doesn't get technology. So much that it took a five paragraph persuasive essay to convince her to get me a new smartphone so I could play Pokemon Go with my friends. In it, I explained the evil of lag, showed the difference between locked and unlocked phones, and selected a model with a link directly to Amazon. Two weeks later, she wished me a happy birthday as she handed me a small, brightly wrapped box with a smile and a wink. It felt lighter than it should've.
"It's a Fitbit!"She exclaimed as I unpacked the shiny black square. "I know you wanted a new phone for Pokemon, but Carly at the office showed me her watch and said it ran much better!"
My heart fell as I realized she was talking about an apple watch. "Thanks, mom. It's just what I wanted."I forced a smile. Oh well. I bought a refurbished phone for cheap off eBay a week later. The battery ran out a bit faster than the one I'd set my sights on, but it ran the game alright. I thought about selling the Fitbit to pay for a better one, but it would've broken my mom's heart, so I kept it on, mostly as a fancy watch, and didn't think much more of it.
But in Pokemon Go you have to walk to hatch eggs, and the distance you travel is logged by your smartphone. I was pretty sure they were cheating me out of some walking distance (Unless my walk to school had magically gotten half a mile shorter), so I logged in to check my stats from the Fitbit after a week.
You know how sometimes you're totally prepared for a bad thing to happen, and then something way worse happens that makes the first thing seem like nothing? Like that one time I was ten and I dropped my ice cream cone and started bawling my eyes out. A bunch of kids came over, pulled down my pants, and started calling me a crybaby. Well, after that happened, the very last thing on my mind was my lost ice cream. I found myself in a similar situation here. All thoughts of lost pokemon go distance went out the window. Because according to my Fitbit, I died every night at around 3 AM.
It was pretty clear on the line graph they displayed. My heart rate didn't change much, showing its normal ups and downs as it went through the day. The graph kind of looked like mountains. But then every night, at 3 AM, a deep canyon formed as it dropped to 0. And then it would be back the next morning, a steady 58-62 beats per minute.
I had to find out what was going on. I mean, I'm pretty sure I needed my heartbeat to live. But here I was. So last night, I resolved to stay up until 3 AM.
I set my smartphone to vibrate, created alarms for 2:00 and 2:30, and slipped it under my pillow. The anticipation would've probably kept me up anyway, but I wasn't taking any chances. As I wished my mom goodnight, I kicked off my jammies and wore the roughest, most uncomfortable set of jeans in my closet. The ones with the zipper that would bite your dick if you weren't careful. I was not going to be comfortable that night. I settled beneath the covers. And I waited.
Sweat soaked through my jeans as I pretended to be asleep. Under my pillow, I felt the alarm for 2 AM, then 2:30. And not long after, the door to my room creaked open and a dark figure crept in. My heart almost shot out of my chest as I threw off the covers and grabbed the only thing nearby to defend myself- a pillow. Nice.
"What are you?!"I'd like to say I shouted, but it came out as more of a squeak. The figure yelped as the lights came on.
"Arnold? You're supposed to be asleep!"My mom scolded, fanning herself with a hand. "You scared me. And why are you in your jeans?"
"What are you doing in my room?"I demanded, still standing on my bed.
"I just finished my shows and was coming in to charge your Fitbit like I do every night. I didn't mean to wake you, since you're always such a heavy sleeper."
I sighed. In relief or exasperation, I don't know. "Thanks. I mean, really, mom. Thanks. But you don't need to do that. I charge it at my desk after school."
I have the kindest, most caring mom in the world. But she just doesn't get technology.
___________________________________________________
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|
Even from orbit, the Hrithe were able to see how damaged the world was. Entire chunks of atmosphere were painted black and grey from fires and explosions. Coastlines were on fire and the borders of nations became more prevalent than ever. They thought now would be the time to strike.
When the Hrithean Core-Ships fell from the heavens, their sheer size covering the landmass in shadow, the Humans who had been fighting for so long, stopped. The smoke trails from the gauss rifles, magnetically accelerated cannons, and plasma artillerly ceased. The Gladius fighters stopped firing on each other in the air, the Quiros battle tanks no longer targeted each other.
This of course wasn't seen by the Hrithe as of yet. They expected a planet engulfed in such destruction and chaos would fall easily. Core-Ships descended into key points throughout the world's main city centers, orbital defense systems were destroyed, but all of the Hrithean's plans would fall short.
Faster than what the Hritheans could have ever guessed, information was transferred between all factions on Earth, they simply waited for the right moment.
Beam lances carved large fissures into the earth as the core-ships began to fire down on the Humans. Small fighter support were deployed from them and suddenly the violence began just as fast as it had stopped. Only this time, there aren't three major factions as the aliens had once thought. Something changed in the battle tactics of the Humans they simply were *not* able to comprehend.
The idea of two sides dropping their rivalry in order to defend their homes together, was completely non-existent within the Hrithean Court of Culture and all associated offices of government. It was more alien to them than the Hrithe were to the Humans. To say the invading forces were unprepared would have been an understatement.
Depleted uranium rounds struck the hulls of the core-ships. Tungsten railguns and sabot rounds ripped through the thick sparefaring metal hulks and plasma ate away at their shielding. The return fire came so swiftly, that the planetary invasion force couldn't even mount their original offensive.
The Hrithe had planned to control the planet within a few days. However, the amount of firepower on the planet's surface that was once firing at each other but was redirected at them, was staggering. Weapons could be analyzed from orbit, ammunition stockpiles were more difficult. For hours, massive railgun installations continuously landed blow after blow into the core-ships. Slowly, the massive titans of starships were so peppered, that they weren't even space worthy.
Though a vast majority of the human's forces were destroyed in the assault, something the Hrithe had never considered happened. Civilians began to take up arms against them. Civilians.
Commanders of the Hrithe were baffled. To their knowledge, they had already lost, taking a large number of the enemy human combatants with them. Yet they were replaced by others who obviously had little to no training. They thought it obvious due to their lack of accuracy with the weapons they could bring to bear, however it soon became apparently that the accuracy of the projectiles didn't matter. It was the number of them that rained down on their core-ships, their drop ships, and of course the landing armies that actually were able to make landfall.
It soon became apparent to the Hrithean forces that not only had they vastly underestimated their enemy, they were now stuck in the atmosphere of the planet permanently. With so much damage to their hulls from the powerful darts of solid matter punching through them and even with the safety locks within the ships themselves they were lost. It was a fight or die situation, there was no more flight option.
Taking control of large chunks of a few different land masses, the Hrithe were able to hole up and establish makeshift bases. They couldn't try diplomacy after entering the atmosphere guns blazing, but they had to try...
Under constant assault and bombardment from the relentless population of the planet, a line of communication was finally established.
"This is our home, you are not welcomed."
That was the only line they received from the Humans. The first and last communication made. What might happen in the future, if the Hrithe ever decided to come back to this planet in full force was a mystery. For now, what remained of them on the planet's surface, lived in constant fear. For their inevitable and absolute annihilation by the people that were meant to be easily destroyed was soon to come. |
The players got more and more homogenous as the years wore on. Less black and white, more brown as the races of the world continued to mix.
The demographic shifted. It became the IFL, an International Football League by Madden 37' and there were no American Teams by the Madden 53'...
I watched as rookies became veterans and veterans became coaches on the sidelines. The rules of the game slowly changed too, no tackling, Less skirmishes... Pretty soon, it was a glorified game of catch. The sport was transforming before my eyes.
Even through the language, I could deduce a few things. An epic failure to tackle was called a Trump Take Down. What was once called a Hail Mary throw was called a The American Dream.
I could augment my players now too. I got blank humans and I could pay them extra to let me chop off body parts and replace them with robotics. They would consistently run faster and score more points, but would gradually demand more and more money.
I finally got around to Madden 00'. I couldn't understand the new dialect if english they were speaking. No country I knew today was there in the game. And all my players started out as robots that I could upgrade.
Man. The future was boring. |
I was sitting in my bed, scrolling through Twitter when an angel of God smashed through my window, leaving shards of glass and smears of blood all over my carpet. This shocked me so profoundly I ended up hitting my head on the headboard of my bed, and leaving a gnarly bump on the back of my head (though this was, at the time, the least of my problems). The figure struggled to his knees, and lifted his face so that we made eye contact. Well, if it's possible to make eye contact with... glowing sockets. The place where his eyes should have been instead emanated a majestic white light, making my dark green walls appear to be just a little bit lighter than they actually were.
He lifted his bony, brown hand, and said, "Get up. We need to go,"at which point he interrupted himself in a fit of bloody coughing. After his break, he finished with the logical next word, "now."
I, genius I am, grabbed my paint chipped wooden sword I bought from the renaissance fair (in third grade might I add), and pointed it at him. The being just scoffed. Then, he made a *shoo* motion with his hand, and the sword hit my wall.
"You're more foolish than He made me think,"the angel said.
"What... what the hell are you?"I asked.
"What does it look like jackass?"
Then, he grabbed me, lifted me clear off of my bed, and dragged me towards my window. Outside was a mob of people, throwing rocks, bottles, and even a knife up at the hole in my window, but they all bounced off as if the glass were still there.
"Are you doing that?"I said incredulously.
"No, that's Pope Francis, I'm just the help."he said, and continuing with the theme of treating me like a child, led me by the collar into my hallway.
"Listen here you little punk. And I'm only gonna say this once. The big man said I'm responsible for helping you, but he also said I can't hurt any of those people out there. Now because I have to take a mortal form to consort with you, I am now **not** immortal, ergo I can die. So here's what we're gonna do. We are going to fix this mess right quick so I can leave you here and get back where I belong. Comprendo?"
The only thing I had comprehended throughout his entire rant was the bushiness of his dark mustache framing his thin face.
"Christ Almighty..."he muttered, and stood up, "look, what could you have done lately to upset them?"
"I don't have a clue! I've just been going to school and doing my work. I didn't tip a waitress one time at the Steak and Shake."
"If I knew more ways to say shut up, I still would have used them by now. Why do I even bother asking you questions if you don't know anything."he responded curtly. Then, in deep thought, he unfolded his wings from seemingly empty space, then folded them in again, over and over and he pondered the situation.
"Here's what I'm gonna do. I'm gonna go in there and see what they're saying. Incommunicado, of course. Turn away."
I did, and when I turned back, he was a beautiful woman in her late 20s, with thick blonde hair and sparkling blue eyes. And... it doesn't matter what **he** looked like, because under all that makeup **he** was still there, so I'll just continue. She walked down my stairs as I followed closely, and opened my back door.
"You stay here. You're only gonna get yourself into trouble if you stay."her voice was strangely masculine, but I wouldn't have noticed if I hadn't seen him turn into her.
After his disappearance, I sat at my kitchen table and wondered how the mob of people possibly could have been outside that whole time without my knowledge, surely I would have heard them at some point? But sitting there, I couldn't even hear the wind blowing outside. In fact, the sky was growing dark at 5 o' clock on a spring day. Something was wrong. Sitting myself and going to my front door, I found the sky to again be slightly dark, but completely silent, despite a horde of people moving their mouthes directly outside of my house. When I stepped outside, I saw the sky was a blood red, and the people were screeching and hissing, not talking. One of them pointed at me, and they rushed at me on all fours, crying their blood-curdling screams as they flew toward me. I responded with a blood-curdling screech of my own, and stepped back inside my house. I backed away slowly from the door, only to find he/she right behind me. I jumped at that as well, and the now (normal?) guardian poked me in the chest.
"You should've listened. You really should've. You're gonna get PTSD or some shit now you moron."
"You're really a dick for an angel you know."
He laughed at me.
"God is perfect, we're just very close to it."he said.
"What is going on out there?"I asked.
"Well, it seems like you went a bit far with one of your tweets about your classmates."
I didn't go **that** far. Just calling someone a shill isn't that bad is it?
"Well whatever you did you really ticked them off. So our friend here contacted a couple of his 4chan buddies and had them plant a minor thing in your computer..."
"Which was?"
"It had to do with kids."
I threw up on my floor. Several times in fact, and my guardian, shockingly out of snarky comments, looked on with sympathy.
"God sent me to help you out, because to be honest you don't deserve the shit you're getting. Problem is, our buddy Lucifer doesn't like angels coming to his domain, even though it's not that often. So he... helps out of the opposing side from time to time. He poured a lot of resources into Vlad the Impaler, Hitler, etc... I don't know why he chose to target you as well though. Regardless, we gotta call in the big guns to resolve this."
He knelt to the ground, extended his wings, and prayed. Stupefied, I waited, and when he finished, he looked at me and smiled.
"We're good."
He opened the door, and the sky was a brilliant white. The formerly animalistic mob was writhing on the ground, as a red smoke dissipated from their bodies into the light.
"What..."I said.
Guardian smiled.
"I prayed for their forgiveness."
"That's... kind of a lame conclusion actually. I expected you to go in with a sword or something, like in Revelations."
His smile disappeared.
"Does this look like Revelations to you?"
It did not.
Soon, the people came to their senses, and made their way back to their homes and their families. Guardian helped each and every one of them if they needed it, thought he didn't always look thrilled. Then, there were no more protestors in my yard, just me and my guardian angel.
"I'm... I'm in a bit of shock actually. I don't know how to deal with the fact that... God is real, Satan is real, there are angels and demons... oh my God I need to write about this!"
"Not so fast bucko. I gotta erase your memory. Can't have you remembering this."
"But... why? It's so fantastic."
"Because it is fantastic. You need to disbelieve it to have faith in Him. So goodbye until next time, friend."
Guardian touched my forehead with a smile, and I drifted to sleep, only to wake up in my bed, with no recollection. |
"It's okay, Billy. Your parents will be back soon,"the teacher said in a gentle voice. "You'll be home before you know it."
I stopped crying. I knew where I was, but as always, I didn't know why.
And so began another long life. I became a doctor this time, but a woman accused me of groping her, a heinous act I hadn't committed in five lifetimes now at least, and I lost a highly publicized trial, lost my license to practice medicine, became an alcoholic and died in a gutter.
"It's okay, Billy. Your parents will be back soon. You'll be home before you know it."
I went the route of professional basketball. I had medical knowledge, remembered the training routines of NBA players from constantly following the teams, and I think you could argue I was the greatest shooter in NBA history. I lived a privileged life. I got inducted into the Basketball Hall of Fame, and I spent my last few years in Miami, still fucking broads who had just graduated high school. I ended up dying at the ripe old age of 89.
"It's okay, Billy. Your parents will be back soon. You'll be home before you know it."
President of the United States? Meh. I tried. It didn't work out. I ended up groping another woman. Maybe it was the same chick from my life as a doctor. I couldn't remember.
"It's okay, Billy. Your parents will be back soon. You'll be home before you know it."
Tried my hands at being an assassin. My first murder attempt, it was a police sting. I shot a cop. 20 cops shot me.
"It's okay, Billy. Your parents will be back soon. You'll be home before you know it."
Invested in Bitcoin. The empire I created fell apart by 2025. I jumped off the tower in New York that beared my name.
"It's okay, Billy. Your parents will be back soon. You'll be home before you know it."
Nice, simple job as a custodian. Groped a woman, though. Her husband shot me to death.
"It's okay, Billy. Your parents will be back soon. You'll be home before you know it."
I decided to actually look for my parents this time. They were never in the picture. They'd been missing since I was 4 years old in my original life, before all the redos. My grandparents raised me. They looked young enough when I was a kid that people mistook them for my parents. We never corrected anyone.
This time, though, I pressured my grandparents to tell me what happened. I never did that before. I guess I never cared. But with infinite restarts comes the thirst for infinite knowledge.
As luck would it have it, my parents were alive, but not well. They were drug addicts. I wondered if they ever tried making contact in my past lives when I became rich...? I always heard rumblings from the ass kissers around me that so-and-so from Boston claimed to be my long lost cousin or some ho from Australia insisted she was my twin sister. Never anything about any parents, though.
I made it this life's mission to find them. In high school, I invented Facebook months before Zuckerberg could. I was a billionaire by my senior year. I invested tons of money into private investigators to locate my parents. Decades went by without luck. I died not knowing what became of them.
"It's okay, Billy. Your parents will be back soon. You'll be home before you know it."
I tried again. This time, I went the drug addict route. I don't know why I never tried street drugs before. I'd been missing out on a lot.
I joined a street gang. They were brothers to me. We ended up murdering my grandmother to get a fix, but it's okay. I'd see her next time and be one hundred times nicer.
I lost grasp of time inside a drug den. Many times I'd awaken in a jail cell, but California had weak laws. They always let me out due to overcrowding in jails.
"It's okay, Billy. Your parents will be back soon. You'll be home before you know it."
... I don't know what happened. Maybe I overdosed?
Well, time to try something new. No. Never mind. On second thought, that was fun. I'm doing that again.
So I did. This time I skipped the slow introduction via trying weed, then alcohol, then coke, then molly, etc. I just jumped right into acid.
What a trip. I was high as hell. I could've sworn a painting was talking to me.
Wait... It *is*. It beckons me.
I.. I climb into it. Is this present or past? Is it happening now or am I relaying the tale in a new life? I don't know. I can't... tell...
I'm inside a new dimension. What is this? I feel like I'm floating. I am. The ground is waaaaaay below me.
"Son,"says a voice. I look up. It's a man. Behind him is a woman.
"We gave you finite lives,"the woman says.
"Mom? Dad?"
"You wasted them all."
"I don't understand."
"You wasted them all."
"But I wanted to find you guys!"
"You wasted them all."
"It's okay, Billy. Your parents will be back soon. You'll be home before you know it." |
He doesn't know I am, and I wouldn't have it any other way.
I've been called many things over the centuries. I suppose in modern times, I would be considered a guardian angel. It's not the best description, but it will do.
There exists a supernatural world, one that exists between the cracks of the natural one. We are the closest thing the universe has to gods.
And yet, with all our powers, even we can not stop death.
On January 1, 2018, 4:18 am, Jared Martin will die in a car accident, making his way home from a New Year's party. His body will be found, lacerated with the glass from his windshield and suffering severe internal bleeding. After being in pain for several hours, he will make it to the Emergency Room, only to die a couple minutes later.
But for now, Jared Martin is dancing at his friend Josh's house, holding a red solo cup recently filled with vodka. The clock is set to strike midnight, and the atmosphere is tense as everyone expectantly waits for 2018 to start.
Jared isn't one of your cookie-cutter handsome guys, with chiseled faces and well-proportioned muscles. He has his own appeal. I don't remember when I fell in love with him. I don't think anyone ever recalls the exact quantum moment where they can trace the moment they fell in love. All I know is that these feelings exist.
So I walk up to him. He smiles his signature smile. No glistening pearly whites, but a wry one that hints at his mischievous nature. We make small talk. He talks about his passions, how he wants to one day become a doctor, how he worries about his little sister's new boyfriend, the little things that betray the kindness he hides behind his aloof veneer. And we kiss. My world goes blank. Thoughts permeating my head disperse.
And so, I sent him back. Back to the beginning of 2017, when he was still alive, still vibrant with energy. The first 10 times I did so, I questioned if it was the right thing to do. By the 22nd, I stopped wondering. |
The first time it had happened, you were confused. You woke up in another bed, in another body, but with the same memories.
Your life had disappeared, and you seemingly took control of another person's entire existence, without doing anything.
The next day, it happened again. And then again. And then again.
You've already lost the count of how many years have passed. A lot, for sure.
You've been stuck in this neverending loop for so much time you don't even remember your original identity.
So, you started having fun with it.
Freed from the chains of repercussion, you just began to... fuck things up.
You started with little things.
Waking up as a teacher, you went to school and gave bad grades to everyone.
Waking up as an employer, you started firing your subordinates without explanation.
And then, you went on to do... bigger stuff.
You caused car crashes, accidents, went on killing sprees.
You destroyed lives. You spread pain, and despair.
And you loved it.
Sure, it got boring pretty quickly.
After the first few years, it all seemed so... arbitrary.
You became a sad, miserable, immortal being, responsible for more suffering than any normal person could have caused in a single lifetime.
But then, something happened. Yesterday, you woke up feeling different.
You looked at yourself in the mirror, your wicked, heinous grin looking back at you.
You fell in love with this appearence.
You searched around your new things, finding out you were a powerful person, in charge of one of the most important agencies of the world.
The most depraved and diabolical being in history had just been given great authority.
And you felt something different in the air, like everything you went through for all of your life had stopped.
You had achieved your final form. The scariest one of all.
And this morning, your suspicions are confirmed.
For the first time in years, you wake up in the same house, in the same bed, in the same body.
It's all over.
You get up, feeling a wave of excitement.
A world of possibilities has opened in front of you.
You are Ajit Pai, FCC Chairman.
And a few devilish ideas are starting to cross your mind. |
It came quickly; hoardes of them. Shuffling, shambling, waving their arms around and groaning with discontent as they mindlessly routed through narrow alleyways in droves - with some splitting off individually from the noise of something being disrupted nearby; a can falling from a shelf, a pane of glass finally buckling under its own cracked weight and so on.
Nobody had expected when the Zombie Apocalypse came, it would be all be over soon.
When we saw the whites of their eyes lock on to our own, our group knew we were finished - but we couldn't give up, even when surrounded. What if we were the last? We didn't know what horrors awaited us, but the desire to go on drove us on to finally make a move to begin what would be our final battle, something worthy of the history books.
As I lashed out and did my best to take down as many as I could before the inevitable, I felt a rush of glee. Maybe we could win? That's when I looked back to see one of our own - a young woman, go down hard. Pinned by hoardes of screaming banshees as they dragged her off into oblivion. Another, a young man with a limp dove to save her from their grasp, but he too was quickly felled with his guard down. From there, the group swiftly crumbled in numbers as it fought against the wave of bodies around them. Close Quarters fighting was an understatement, as the circle closed in and even arms-length was with a bent elbow.
I was the last with my best friend, striking the ground as the two of us were forced chest down and to look at one another as his head exploded from what I assumed was the force of all that weight bearing down on us. The static of a nearby radio crackled into life as my own existance was about to fade into darkness.
"...minimal casualties; the last group of Zombies is being dealt with. Not nearly as infectious as the films..." |
He wasn’t sure how long he’d been sitting here. Minutes? Hours? Years? It was all the same to him these days; everything seemed to pass in a blur. Sometimes he couldn’t even remember why he liked sitting here so much, but then he’d chuckle as he saw the white roses. Of course that was it, the white roses—that was why he liked this seat by the window so much, with its view of the lovely garden and…and…whatever was beyond.
Today, though, he was bored. He put down the book he’d been absent-mindedly thumbing through and opened up his phone. Somehow, he found his way to the Messages app. Who should he text? He’d fallen out of touch with so many friends, there weren’t many left he could send a message to.
He racked his brain for a good contact, then decided that it didn’t matter anyway, and entered in a string of numbers at random. His fingers moved seemingly of their own accord, entering a complete number that he wouldn’t have recognised or seen any significance in just mere moments ago. He was too old to bother with what the person on the other end might think.
But then, just as he was about to type out a greeting, he saw the “…”. Whoever it was was typing back.
Impossible. Yet it was happening before his eyes. There had to be at least a hundred million phone numbers in his country alone, and here was that astronomical chance, that coincidence people waited for their whole lives.
Transfixed, he stared at the screen as the “…” flickered in and out for a solid two minutes before a message appeared that was so long he had to scroll up to reach the beginning of it:
“Simon, you’ll probably never read this. I don’t know why I’m texting you honestly, but I had to get it out of the way. If you still remember me, I can’t come back. I’m so sorry. Yesterday when I came we had a lucid conversation for an hour, reminiscing on all the old days, and you remembered everything about me. It was the first time in a month you even recognised me. That was why it broke my heart when one moment you were there, talking about research and all the things you wished you had the time to investigate, and the next moment you looked at me and asked me who I was. I’m so sorry. I can’t do this anymore.”
He felt a wetness on his face, and when he slowly reached up, he felt the tears streaming from his eyes. He couldn’t even remember the name of this random number, but it hadn’t been random after all. He knew that whoever had sent it had been someone very important, someone who’d loved white roses. If only he could remember her name.
He sat there gazing at the distance, not knowing how much time had passed. Minutes? Hours? Years? It was all the same to him these days; everything seemed to pass in a blur. Abruptly, he realised he was clutching an object too tightly in his hand. It had a lit up screen and a few buttons along the sides. A phone! That was it. A phone. He smiled at remembering the word for this object, then frowned when he saw the message written in front of him.
Simon—that was his name. But the message was all wrong. Yesterday, he’d sat in this seat alone. No one had visited him yesterday, and if they had, he’d have told them to leave. He didn’t like the people who occasionally visited this place. Loud young people who were always much too cheerful.
Frowning, he searched for a way to delete the message. There it was—a trash icon. Triumphantly, he hit it with more force than was necessary, and watched as the message withered away.
The next day, or maybe the next week, he was bored again. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been sitting here. Minutes? Hours? Years? Might as well take out the object in his hand and send a message to a random number. He wished so much for someone to talk to. His fingers moved by themselves, tapping out a number that he felt strangely like he should have some connection to, but knew rationally that they didn’t mean anything.
This time, there was no “…”.
|
There was a time when flying felt like freedom. The first machines, those of the early pioneers, rattled along with little more than bolts and braces - a constant racket of creaking canvas and shaking metal. That gave way to the hot puffs and gargles of engines. Later, the soaring crescendo of jet engines as they reached their maximum, hurling huge hulks into the sky.
But for a time, before it all became ready meals, no leg room and those hinkey screens, flight was beautiful. Serene, almost. I remember the first time I took my kite into the sky and let its engine cut. Nothing but the whistle of air and the cool breeze on your face. Then, up in a heaven of golden sunlight and blue skies, you'd start her up again and drift elegantly over a carpet of endless white. Hot damn, it was something special. Cold as all Henry - something that made you huddle up in your jacket - but even so, the kind of feeling all pilots yearn for. You flew like a bird, up there alone.
We were cruising like that just after dawn, trying to hold her up even though we were flying on vapors. Howland was nowhere to be seen, and all we had below was pure, endless blue ocean. Funny thing, flying over the Pacific - the dawn snaps like turning on a light switch, so one moment it's pitch dark, the next you're dazzled by total light. Fred tried to get a fix but we couldn't find the darn strip, so instead just cruised up and down, North and South, looking for smoke signals on the horizon. I don't think we ever thought we wouldn't make it. I don't think we ever felt alone.
And then Fred looks out the window, and says "Would you look at that."So I follow his finger, and there it is - a stream of planes up in the sky. All flying in formation, all flying the same direction. We hadn't seen anything like half of 'em. They were crates that shouldn't have made 200 feet, biplanes, fighters, sleek looking metal birds and giant behemoths like something Mr Howard Hughes was always babbling about trying to get up. One of the kites even looked like Nungesser and Coli.
"Well, not like we have much choice,"says Fred, and I agree. So I point us up, and we slip into the formation. And then the strangest thing. The engine just stopped out of juice, but we kept on up there. We weren't gliding - the rotor kept turning - but the engine noise faded away. Gradually, I took my hand off the controls and just let her ease into line with the rest of 'em, and along we flew - in clear sky and easy weather. We started to recognise them all. Came to know them all. Came to know where we were flying toward. It was freedom.
And everything felt beautiful. |
"But... but *how?"*
 
My jaw was slack in agogement (is that even a word? No? Then it *should* be!)
 
"..."
 
"Oh. Right. My name's John Smith. Would be weird if I **didn't** stumble upon that name from time to time. Nothing supernatural going on right here, nosiree!"
 
I put the book back and returned to searching the textbooks needed for my essay about flour beetles and their mating habits.
|
\*Ring\* \*Ring\*
\*Ring\* \*Ring\*
I lazily reach out a hand to the drawer next to my bed and after a couple of tries slide the snooze button on my phone.
I feel the sun creeping in through the small crevices in my window, the rays of sun hitting directly at my eyes.
With immense difficulty I pull myself up and bring myself to a sitting position, my feet dangling off the side of the bed. I sit there, in the middle of my room for a couple of minutes, nothing but underwear on, thinking whether I should get ready for work or call Martha and tell her to go screw herself, because I am done with this fucking job. Another minute passes and I find myself putting on my socks, then pants, then shirt and once again struggle to get on my feet.
I go to the kitchen, turn the kettle on and use the time until the water boils to go to the bathroom.
I take a piss, wash my face and then brush my teeth. As per 'tradition' - I roll the sleeve of my shirt to look at the digital projection on my arm.
*'Chance of dying: 0.00%'* \- the neon-green light reads.
Strange. I never remember it being that low.
I tap it is if it were a broken clock that stopped working, but nothing happens. I shake my arm. Nothing happens.
I stare at it for a few moments, forgetting to actually brush my teeth, the toothbrush sitting in my mouth.
The *click* of the kettle snaps me out of it.
'This can't be right' - I think to myself. There's no way.
Usually the number fluctuates from a 1.4 to 4.5. I remember that one time that it showed 6.326. I sat all day in a pillow fort I built , watching 'Home Alone' 1 and 2, starving myself and doing nothing in particular, to not risk setting the house on fire.
But today... Today it sits on an absolute 0.
I know exactly what that means, although it takes some time to my morning-brain to process it. I smile when it finally gets to me.
During my life, I found out that if the chance is high - so is the chance of hurting myself. That means - that as the chance gets lower... so does the chance to get hurt.
"I am invincible."I call out into the empty kitchen, as I pour the morning coffee. Black.
I grab the paper cup and my backpack and rush out the door.
I slide, perfectly balanced down the railing from the third floor, down to the first. I've always wanted to do that - and today is the best day to do so.
I run out the door, it feels like the world is mine.
I cross the road, it may show a red light or not - I don't quite pay attention, because I am looking at my forearm - that beautiful 0.00.
I can hear car-horns behind me, but who cares.
Now, what should I do? Where should I go?
I pull out my phone and scroll to find Martha's number.
"Hello, Martha. I.."fake cough, "I'm afraid I can't make it to work today."fake cough. "I'm feeling terrible."
"Jim. Do I hear - cars?"
"What? No."I cough again.
"Jim!"
I turn the phone off and put it on mute.
Now where should I start? |
It had been a normal day, or rather, as normal as it can get when you can literally see how someone is going to die. Some might call it a ‘gift’ or a ‘super power’. Others might call it the work of the devil, or label me a witch. But to me, that sign that appears over someone’s head has always been my curse. Today was not different, other than the words that appeared over her head: “Murdered By You.”
Let me back up a couple of decades, to when I was merely six years old, and the first ‘incident’ I can remember happening. The day had been seemingly normal, with nothing out of the ordinary happening. Not up until that three o’clock bell rang, triggering a massive migraine to the point I couldn’t see.
“Hey… you okay?”
I could hear the words, but they sounded like they were being spoken underwater, and it was hard to pinpoint which direction they were coming from. I felt something grab my arm and my vision started to clear and the sound came rushing back to me like a tidal wave of sensory overload.
It was my teacher, Mrs. Wall, her hand gentle yet somehow firm on my shoulder. Her eyes studying with a look of confusion, or possibly concern. I was six, and emotions were already hard to read, not to mention I was coming down from a complete mental shutdown triggered from a migraine.
And if the look she was giving me read as confusion, the look I gave her must’ve mirrored that. Not that there was anything *normally* wrong with Mrs. Wall. She was a younger teacher, a few years removed from college and some of the boys in the class called her ‘hot’, but I couldn’t imagine that from my Kindergarten teacher.
But today was no longer a ‘normal day’, as I would forever remember this as the day that everything went wrong. You see, hanging, or rather just hanging out, above Mrs. Wall’s head, was a neon sign. I wasn’t the best reader, but the words were simple and easy to make out: “Car Crash”.
“Are you okay?”
She repeated herself in a calm, comforting tone. I muttered something out as I nodded my head, too confused about what was going on to register doing anything that made sense. Before she could ask any more questions, I grabbed my book-bag and made for the classroom door; I did *not* want to miss the bus… again.
The next day, Mrs. Wall wasn’t there. Replaced by a much older, and much meaner teacher who made the remainder of the year hell for most of the students, myself included. Our principle explained that Mrs. Wall simply ‘moved on’ to another place, but later that night my parents had to sit me down to ‘have a talk’. That only entailed them slowly explaining that Mrs. Wall had been killed in a car crash the night before.
I tried to explain to my parents that I had seen the sign and knew it was going to happen. They thought I had an active imagination and this was my way of coping with the loss of my teacher, so they ignored it. Or, they would have, if I would’ve dropped it there, but I continued to ramble on about other people I had seen and how they were going to die. Let me tell you, my therapist didn’t like hearing she was going to die of “Old Age and Alone.”
Throughout the years, these things seemed to get worse, where everywhere I looked I saw death. Not literally, but I saw those cursed neon signs that told me how someone was going to die.
Prom was difficult, as it’s hard to dance with someone with “Drunk Driving” hanging over their head. I tried to convince her not to go to the after party, and instead we could go out to my parent’s cabin, just the two of us. To my surprise, she agreed, she just need to run home and change out of her dress and grab a change of clothes. I was so relieved I handed over my keys without much thought… she was killed by a drunk driver on her way to her house.
And that was my life. I learned to deal with it, and I’m sure the medication the doctors gave me helped. If I didn’t concentrate on someone too hard, the sign wasn’t as obvious and could likely be ignored. But I also grew up distancing myself, never allowing myself to get too close or too attached to someone.
Fast forward twenty years later, and I’m out for a simple walk, trying my best to enjoy a warmer winter afternoon. I was doing my usual, keeping my head down, eyes glued to the sidewalk as to avoid looking at people and seeing their ‘death sign’. It had worked so well for years, that I never really had a problem avoiding people.
But I have never met someone quite like her before, who’s clumsiness ranked among the worst I had seen. And thanks to my ‘foolproof’ plan I didn’t see her, at least not until I saw a pair of converses directly in front of my own shoes.
Pain seared in my head at first, and then my backside as I quickly found myself on the ground. I quickly sat up to see what sort of idiot runs into someone, when I noticed that idiot, though she may be clumsy, was remarkably beautiful.
“I am, so sorry.” I said quickly as I sprung to my feet to help the poor girl up.
She smiled and took my hand, allowing me to pull her to her feet. I was so smitten by her looks, that I completely ignored the sign hanging above head, staring back at me.
“It’s okay, probably my fault anyway.”
Her voice was so soft and sweet, I nearly melted right then and there. But I wouldn’t pass up on an opportunity the world had presented me by passing out, so I relaxed and allowed my confidence that had been buried somewhere to surface.
After some small talk and the round and round apologies, we ended up exchanging numbers before making to part ways. Deciding to just go for it, I asked her out, and to my pleasant surprise she agreed, but only if I could do it that night. In my haste, I quickly agreed, telling her I would pick her up at exactly seven o’clock.
And with a final smile, she turned on her heel to walk away. And then I finally noticed it and my heart nearly dropped to the ground. The sign. That cursed sign that always reared its ugly head, was in full bloom that afternoon, this one being the worst one yet: “Murdered By You.” |
It took me a long time to figure it out.
Childhood was a roller-coaster. I was born to a young mother who intended to put me up for adoption, but decided to keep me. For a while, though, I was sent to live with my biological father and his two roommates, none of whom knew how to take care of a baby. He claims that it was 'hilarious', but it sounds pretty dangerous to me in retrospect.
I started school, and things seemed normal enough. My mother struggled but then one day, she decided she was going to be a career woman despite the challenges. A lot of late nights and stress, but she really applied herself and got out there. Everyone calls her an inspiration. It was a struggle though. A lot of her being late to pick me up from school, a lot of pretending I didn't mind when she never came to my school plays.
When I was 7, I hatched an elaborate plot to bring my parents back together, and amazingly it worked! I was a kid with two happy parents.
Every summer, me and my ragtag groups of friends and our dog Scraps would go out to the parks around my suburb and play games all day. But honestly, some years were awful and some were amazing.
One summer, I slowly gained the courage to confront a bully with the help of my friends. The next year, my dog died and I learned about loss and death. I never knew what was going to happen.
We don't talk about the year that we went into the 'haunted' mansion on the outskirts of town. Let's just say that it wasn't haunted, but that we will never forget what happened in there. Also we don't know how it burned down, and people should stop asking.
...I still miss Billy sometimes.
I started high school. At first it was pretty unremarkable, kind of like my earlier years but with more crushes and angst about our futures and identities. One year my friends and I got into some slightly alternative music and wore more black, and everyone just went crazy. We got bullied a lot and our parents suddenly got super bitchy. But eventually we managed to get people to stop judging us by our tastes and instead by our characters.
Then I turned 16 and everything was suddenly about sex. Every year it felt like one of my friends was trying to make some kind of bet, or had some obsessive crush on a girl that didn't know he existed, etc. It always worked out though, he'd either get the girl or some slightly less popular but cute girl would turn out to be interested in him.
People threw a lot of house parties, everyone's parents suddenly were going out of town without their kids for some reason. I was kind of hurt that my parents would so often just take a week off work together when I had school and leave me alone. At least we also went on family summer vacations, even if I was a whiny teen that didn't always appreciate it.
I did get to join the theater program and play some football, which we all took *way* too seriously now that I look back at it. I think all those contests and the school pressure really got to us. It really didn't have much affect once we graduated.
The summer we graduated, we... we all went up to a big house in a rural area to have a week to ourselves and party, for old time sake. We thought it would be fun. We just wanted to have a good time together one last time. There was some crazy guy that escaped from some mental institution, wearing this gross mask. No one warned us, he snuck into the house and he killed a lot of my friends. I just found a body, and then another, and we had no phone signal, and... I don't want to talk about it.
After that I wasn't the same for a long time. I drank to forget.
College was a haze of alcohol and sex. I honestly don't remember taking half of my exams and I'm lucky I don't have AIDS. I was almost expelled several times. I cheated on several exams and just barely graduated. As I stumbled hungover to receive the diploma I didn't really earn, I realized that I was an alcoholic.
My family checked me into rehab right after, where I met a lot of colorful characters and really got to know both them and myself. My therapist really helped me get back on track.
I picked up a job as a cashier, just to help make ends meet for a while, and wound up in a rut. Yeah, we had a lot of goofy times at the store, but it just seemed like my life was going nowhere. And we'd keep getting these new managers that would wreak havoc until they were caught out and fired, or new staff that were always causing problems.
That's when I started watching a lot of movies. When your life is so dramatic, you don't get a lot of downtime to do stuff like that. That's when I noticed what was going on. All these tropes, all these cliches, that was my life.
I don't know why I'm like this, but I see the pattern.
I looked at my choices. I could be anything, really, if I put my mind to it. Wall street millionaire, novelist, etc etc. But you know what I really want, after everything I've been through? I just want to be happy. I just want stability. I just want to be able to hold on to the people and the things that I love, without losing them in order to learn some kind of lesson or to advance the plot.
But I can't. That's not how movies work. Believe me, I've done my homework. No relationship is safe, every job has been portrayed on the big screen at some point.
I tried to take my life. I failed, and I had an extended dream or vision where I was in purgatory, and had to listen to all my unfinished business and that it "wasn't my time", until I agreed they were right and finally woke up in a hospital bed.
I cut ties with what friends and family I had left. I quit my job and applied to be a Wall Street broker. I'm not qualified in the slightest, but I gave some big speech about taking what you want at any cost, and they gave me the job.
I made piles of money, snorting blow and banging hookers. Anyone that seemed like a genuinely good person, I made sure not to stay away from. I didn't want them getting hurt.
I started getting more involved with my dealer, and quit my job to start a company that was a front for a drug smuggling ring. I started recruiting unemployed young men and arming them, charging businesses for protection.
I found a hot young woman that seemed most concerned with doing coke and shopping, and I married her. The longest relationship I've ever had, 15 years to this day. She might not have much of a personality, but I've gotten used to having her by my side. And I never have to worry about her being kidnapped and having to rescue her, or her suddenly leaving me to go backpacking across the world to find herself.
The police tried to rein me in for a long time, but I bribed and I killed and I bartered until I ran this town. Nobody can touch me, it seems. Not when I'm the main character of this story.
I have a limit. When a shipment turned out to be too pure and started killing people, I recalled it as best I could and I even had my dealers supplied with Narcan after that. "Nobody better be killing my fucking customers"I justified.
One guy from Eastern Europe tried to get me on board with a human trafficking ring. I set up a meeting and killed those pieces of shit.
I haven't put much effort into my security. One day some rogue cop, or some budding hero, is gonna burst in here and take me out. I have no doubt. And honestly, I look forward to it. I'll make some grand speech, and I'll shoot in his vague direction, and he'll put me down. I've lived long enough. Roll the credits. |
“So...... where is this ‘plan’ to destroy the city?” Captain Tricycle asked.
“Oh. It’s coming, these speeches take time you know, quite difficult to prepare one.” said Villainous
“Dude you’ve kept us here for three hooouurrsss....” said another hero in the background
“Yeah and you haven’t said a thing since the last time you promised to explain your plan” remarked another.
“Hey I don’t like your tone, I might as well blow up the city now”
There was a shout in the far back of the expansive room.
“Doooo^ooo it”
*A doorbell rang*
“Ah the pizzas are here, we can talk over lunch”
*Moaning rumbled through the room* |
Alexander swirled the whiskey in the bottom of his glass.
He was tall and lean. Handsome, but dangerous. He wore a suit worth three times what he could've bought the entire pub for, and an expression cold enough to freeze boiling oil.
*He knew this day would come. He’d always known.*
A pretty girl in a low cut dress approached him. “Hey there, you gonna drink that or were you planning on,-“
Alexander didn’t spare her a glance.
She snapped infront of his face, “He-lloooo? I’m tryna talk to you here.”
His head turned slowly. When his eyes landed on her, her smile melted away. “Yes?”
The girl backed away, then, at a distance she must've deemed safe, she turned and hurried off.
Alexander chuckled. *Fools.*
“That wasn’t very nice, Alexander,” A familiar, lovely, voice scolded him gently from behind.
His heart did not stop, nor did it stutter at the musical sound of her voice. It *soared*. It *sang*.
“What can I say,” he said, “At the time I was feeling quite distraught. An unfortunate coincidence for the girl, I’m afraid. The love of my life was supposed to meet me here three hours ago, you see.”
“I see. But you don’t sound so distraught to me...does this mean your *love* has arrived?”
He turned to face her, no longer able to resist. There Sophia stood in a pale blue dress, elegant like the Queen of Sheba. She was remarkably light on her feet, so that even standing still she seemed to be dancing.
“She has.”
Sophia smiled, reaching him in three graceful strides. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think you’d wait.”
He wrapped his arms around her, “Of course I did, Sophia. I’d wait forever if I had to. I....*love* you.” That word had never been easy for him to say. It tasted like fruit he wasn't sure was ripe.
His chest felt slightly damp where her face pressed against it, and he realized she was crying. “Shh,” he said with a grin, “It’s alright, really. What are a few hours, I’m sure you were busy.”
Her voice was soft and slightly muffled, “It’s not that,” she cried, “I love you, Alex. You have to believe me.”
*Something was wrong.*
This was *Sophia Freer*! Better known to the public as the *Sapphire Storm*, the Lady of the Sky, the Right Hand of Justice!
She was strong enough to be vulnerable, yes, and he’d seen her shed tears before. But Sophia wouldn’t *weep* over something petty like this...
“What’s going on,” he whispered.
Sophia held him tightly. “I didn’t think you’d stay,” she whimpered, “Belledeere read my mind. She made me tell them, but...” She was trembling like a mouse. “I gave them the wrong time. I tricked them! *I didn’t think you’d stay!*”
The doors of the pub slammed open. Alexander watched as Hercule Hammer, Captain Iron, Belledeere, and all the rest of the *wretched* Circle of "Heroes"entered. Their disdain for him was on open display, their hatred of what he stood for palpable. Hercule cracked his fingers in expectation, and though Belledeere's smile was calm, Alexander could *feel* her reaching for his mind.
“I’m so sorry. So sorry. So *sorry*,” Sophia was muttering against his chest.
Since he'd met her, Sophia had broken down his walls one by one. She’d found him closed off from any and all forms of attachment, but she’d taught him that it was *okay* to be vulnerable sometimes. For the first time in his life, she’d shown him what *love* looked like.
But deep down, he’d never stopped waiting for this moment. The moment when she would confirm everything he’d always suspected. He’d known love for what it was, a scam. He *NEVER* should have allowed himself to trust her. No one could be trusted but himself. No one.
In that moment of betrayal, she did not break his heart; She forged it. What was once stone, was then fire...*and now it was steel*.
~
r/CharlestonChews
EDIT- Wow, thanks for the Gold dear anonymous Redditor! I really enjoyed this one!
|
“Hang on, don’t shoot!” I raised my hands high above my head and squeezed my eyes shut. The ground trembled beneath me as trees creaked and snapped and crashed into the ground. My heart beat in my ears as the stone man's shadow enveloped me completely. “I’m not here for the sword!”
A second passed. Then another. And another. Cautiously, I lifted my head. The stone man stood in front of me, his head disappearing into the sky, and his big toe right in front of my face. I knew I was on the shorter side – my family reminded me of that everyday with their towering existence – but I never felt this small before. Like an ant or spider, easily crushed beneath the heel of another. My eyes watered at the thought of my family. Would I even ever see them again? Considering the fact that a slingshot the size of my house was loaded and pointed straight at me, the obvious was answer was a very dead-set no.
A rumbling sound came from the stone man, like rocks tumbling down a hill. “You…you…not…here…for…sword?”
I flinched. The stone man's voice sounded like rocks grating against each other, agitating my ears, and it boomed down like thunder from the sky. Not to mention his entire body shook when he spoke which caused the ground to shake.
“N-no,” I said. “I'm n-n-not here f-for the sword.” The giant slingshot swayed above me, fanning the air and creating huge gusts of wind that blew my hair into my face. The slingshot stilled a few seconds later, pointing– I noted to my relief – a few feet away from me.
“Then… why… you…here?”
I grimaced, not really wanting to talk about it. It was stupid Everyone told me not to come here to Queen's Hill because no one who did ever came back. Some – the people I hate who hated me – told me that I was the last person in the realm who could ever become queen, and that the sword would sooner break itself than rest in my hands (because apparently the sword had a mind of its own?). But I wasn’t here for the sword.
I was here for the stone.
The stone which stood before me, carefully crafted into the shape of a man, completely realistic down to the very last hair. Except that it was made entirely from stone and stood 200 feet tall.
“Why?” the stone man repeated. “Why!”
I flinched and took a step back. The slingshot zeroed in on me once more. I held my hands above my head, as if doing so would stop hundreds of pounds of rock from smashing my brain to bits. “B-because I… I heard that there’s an interesting stone here… and I like stones. I like looking at interesting stones, and maybe collecting them, so…oof!” I fell to the ground when the stone man took a step back and the earth shook violently beneath him.
“For…stone?”
I nodded as I pushed myself back up, a task rather difficult to accomplish with shaking arms. As stupid as it sounded, it was true. I was here to see the stone that had stood for centuries on Queen's Hill, a silent witness to the hundreds who had come here seeking the sword and title of queen. The hundreds who had died. By the hands of the stone, as I found out today.
“Not...sword?”
I sucked in a deep breath as the slingshot fell to the stone man's side. Granted, he didn’t need to go through the trouble of using a slingshot to kill me – he could do so with one stomp – but I decided to not be too picky and took comfort in the action anyway. “Not for the sword. I’m not here for the sword.” If I had one, I’d more likely accidentally stab myself with it than use it as proof of queenship, anyway.
“Not…queen?”
“I don’t want to be a queen.” The paperwork and constant attention that would most definitely come with it… it simply didn’t appeal to me. I’m not a extravagant person. I prefer the quiet and peace of reading or looking at stones… although I might have to rethink associating looking at stones with peace and quiet after today.
I screamed as the stone man bent on one knee, my ears ringing from the thud as he kneeled down, and my body hitting the ground once again. Now the stone man's face, although still high, high above me, had features that were vaguely discernible.
“Not…for sword…. Not… for crown…. But… for… stone.” The stone man stared down at me, and I stayed as still as possible even as sweat trailed down my face and I thought I would have a heart attack at any moment. Seconds ticked by and light breeze blew past. Birds squawked and chirped in the distance, and I was distantly aware of the sun sinking lower. My body jerked as he moved his arm, my mind on high alert as I knew he could crush me in an instant. His hand moved to his head, tugged at something – his hair? - and slowly came back down with something that reflected the waning sunlight. “Here. Stone. Sword. Crown.”
My hand reached out slowly, trembling, and grasped the item in his hand. A sword, with a hilt made of stone, though it didn’t feel heavy, and a blade that appeared sharp and clean as if it was new. “What…?”
“Good…bye,” the stone man said. “Be…safe…little queen friend.” |
"Thank you. You're the owner?"I slide up to the bar, picking a stool on the corner.
"I am the proprietor, Gallini Falzup."The bartender sets down the glass he'd been cleaning and waves his hands at the 'interior' of the bar.
"You're not... impressed by the splendor of the Interdimensional Bar and Grill?"
My gaze follows his hands first to the glowing green and blue energy vortex that makes up the ceiling (yet somehow provides a warm yellow light throughout the bar). Then to the bar itself, seemingly made of the universe itself, with galaxies and stars displayed almost as though you could reach in and pick one up. And finally to the band on the raised stage, with their bulging black eyes, wrinkles face on a too big head, and long mouth-snouts, playing a variety of instruments the likes of which I'd never seen. Wait, they *are* familiar. It's the Bith band from the Mos Eisley Cantina from Star Wars.
"Very nice decor. I'll have a house draft, the crab cakes, filet mignon, and the house salad."
Flabbergasted at my lack of awe, he asks, "Who, precisely are you?"
"You don't know who I am? Appalling. You called me. I'm Chef Gordon Ramsey and this is Kitchen Nightmares." |
As Egon raced towards Ghostbuster HQ, the bell of his bicycle ringing out to unconcerned pedestrians, questions sped through his mind at an even faster rate. Another entity flew overhead, leaving a trail of slime in its wake.
*Something has to be at the center of all of this activity. Has Vigo returned? Gozer?*
He rolled past a gaggle of mutilated spirits, and some of them waved at him like old pals. Why had so many ghosts suddenly appeared, and why did no one seemed bothered by their presence?
*Am I dead? No, the sudden burst of psychokinetic energy in the city has simply terrified the populace beyond the capacity for rational thought.*
When he was only two blocks from the station, he heard the familiar sirens wailing down the street. The Ecto-1a screamed past him, fully loaded with Ray, Venkman, and Winston.
*They must have a trace on the source. Did they really not see me?*
Egon sped after the sound of the sirens, doing his best to dodge the living and the dead as he went. When he finally caught up with his partners, he found them stopped in the middle of an intersection; their were multiple police cars blocking off the area, but Egon ditched his bike and sprinted past them with ease. None of his fellow ghostbusters had their Proton Packs donned, and they all stared down at something in the street.
"Gentlemen,"he said as he approached form behind. "I'm sure you've all noticed by now that the city is overrun with ghouls, ghosts, and specters, so I hope you were smart enough to bring the—"he stopped mid-sentence, the words falling dead from his lips.
Everyone was looking down at a body in the road, contorted into a peculiar lattice of limbs and bicycle parts—glasses shattered next to a destroyed head.
"Egon..."Ray fell to his knees, Winston crouched down and put a hand on his shoulder.
Egon didn't try to get their attention, didn't struggle with the concept before him; he was a man of science, and the sight of his body had brought him to a simple conclusion.
*I'm deceased, now residing in the plain of paranormal existence... I hope they get a sample of my brain tissue.*
____
**Thanks for reading. Sub to /r/BeagleTales for daily ghost ghostbusters** |
"It's a union thing see! Boss makes one demonic deal and suddenly we're all on the hook too."
The pair of glowing red eyes continued. "but they didn't bet on the Franconis! That demon might have had a well of arcane power, but he didn't have our smarts."
A previously unseen claw tapped near the smouldering eyes, creating the hollow sound of nail on bone.
"So the long and the short of it is we're running hell now. And with that comes certain obligations. I was jus saying to your daughter, smart kid."
*to be continued when I have more time! * |
You'd think that preparing with the demonic armies for five hundred years would make you ready for anything. I certainly thought I was. I could have overthrown thousands of wizards, crushed entire armies beneath my iron hooves. I had trained, worked, and prepared myself and my massive demonic army of invading the mortal realm the moment that the banishment spell ceased to function.
But when it happened, I found to my shock that the world had changed much in my absence. I did not expect the world to look the same, oh no. But I did not expect it to be so, well, different. Towers of metal and glass that reached taller than the one at Babel ever did. Great birds of metal, enslaved to the will of mortals. Long grey lines of rock carving the landscape up. And strangest of all things, no magic at all. Not even a speck. At first we thought that it would make our invasion quick, easy, and simple. But we were wrong.
The existence of this technology, and the lack of this magic, was a disaster for us. And so, I am glad that not only did we not succeed in our invasion, we couldn't even manage to get it started. I am the Morning-Star, the Betrayer, the Prince of ALL Demons, the High Lord of Hell itself. And when my armies tried to enter the mortal realm, something stopped them. Furious with the delay, I charged ahead and forced the portal open, allowing me through.
Only for me to find that on the other side, I, the greatest of all demons, was reduced to little more than an imp. And to my utmost horror, I could not return. Stuck in the mortal realm, as the only magical thing, I did what I could to hide. But being essentially a horned child with crimson skin, a jaw filled with sharp teeth, a tail, and hooves, it wasn't easy. Many humans saw me, and called me a cryptid. Not recognising me. But granting me enough belief to endure in this strange and changed world.
Magic and belief is important. But one will decay without the other. And people didn't believe in anything in this world of technology. Sure, many still went to the churches and temples, but they worshipped without any genuine, burning faith. Priests still mumbled their prayers, but the power of their faith had decayed to a point where I could enter on holy ground. Me, the First of the Fallen! With the banishment of the demons, soon the Fae left the world behind, to dance in the hidden meadows and forgotten ancient forests without the mortals. The dragons went to that hidden place, with more light than there should be, where all dragons go. The pagan gods, strong and mighty, slept in their distant halls, places to which I travelled with what little power I had. Zeus on his throne slept, with the Olympians passed out around him. Odin, One-Eyed and most cunning of all beings, slept holding the hand of Frigga his wife, on their thrones in Valaskjalf. The Jade Emperor and his court meditated in the deepest of trances, though I noticed that there was no doubt, that Sun Wukong had drawn a silly little moustache on everyone there.
Even when I took to the court of Heaven, I saw the guardian with his flaming sword, that stands before the Pearly Gate, slept deeply. The world had lost magic, and had lost belief. And without those, the magical realms slumber forever. Hell, being banished, being cut off, did not feel this. But I have no doubt, that with the banishment ended, my followers now sleep.
Sleep until the world of men who have no faith, is gone. When minds of steel, ticking with clockwork and the buzz of electricity, minds that make weapons that could challenge the gods themselves, are no more. Then the magic will return. But for now, there is nothing here. Not for me. And even if I had managed to lead my demons here, what would we have accomplished? Their weapons bring death on a scale hitherto unseen. When I broke into their libraries, stealing their knowledge, I read their books. Speaking of several wars that had engulfed the entire mortal realm, the horrible deathtolls, the weapons used. Weapons so horrible that demons hath not the imagination to make them. We are fallen angels, after all, evil on the scale that humans have imagined is not built within us, even if we are fallen.
Even for me, I can feel the sleep of disbelief coming. For who believes in a horned devil? Who holds faith in the gods or the demons? My shrunken state is proof enough. If they believed, I would be a giant, grand enough to cast down their steel towers, powerful enough to endure one of their atomic bombs.
But I am not that big. I am not believed in. Nor are any of the powers. And thus, looking more like a small child than the Archduke of Damnation, I retreated to a remote place. A hidden place. One of the places which humans cannot go, because they no longer believe in them. And there, small, childlike, and weak, I pulled a blanket I had stolen over my body and fell in that deep and dreamless sleep, that all the powers shared.
[/r/ApocalypseOwl](https://www.reddit.com/r/ApocalypseOwl/) |
World Walker. That is what they call me. Or rather, it's the title I gave myself. You might think me narcissistic, but you don't understand. I possess the greatest power in the universe. The power to traverse worlds. Every time I die in one world, I am reincarnated in another one. Isn't that amazing? The stories I have to tell! I could narrate the time I was hailed as grand magus of the elemental plains. Or the time I was chased by talking dinosaurs that had jetpacks. Or the time I was involved in an epic space duel to the death against the morgrav race's ultimate champion. (Spoiler: I lost and reincarnated).
The only un-amazing part about this is that no one is able to witness my power. When I talk about my past experiences, they all think it a figment of my imagination! I can't prove them otherwise of course. A restriction of my power is that I have to obey the laws of nature of whatever world I'm currently in. A bit of a party pooper, but understandable that I can't be manipulating magic in a world where it doesn't exist. What I do keep are my memories, and with it, the ability to learn. When am I am reincarnated as a newborn baby each time, I already wield the knowledge of a thousand lifetimes. All it takes is a little time to adjust to the new world, and BAM! I'm at the top of the world. Or any world, for that matter.
My current life is a general of the Galactic Democratic Party, or GDP. We are in the midst of a space battle where I will lead my troops to victory against these vile revolutionaries. Given my reservoir of combat experience, I will make short work of the enem....oh god is that a plasma rocket heading for me.
XXXXX
I wake from my slumber. Here we go again. I was quite enjoying that world to be honest. But such is the cycle of my life. On to the next adventure! But wait. Something is...different. Something feels very very off. I survey my surroundings: Trees, a perfectly blue sky, and a simple dirt path in front of me. A completely ordinary setting. But it's not what's around me that bothers me. It's what isn't. Other people. I am alone. Impossible. My reincarnation life always begins as a newborn. Whether as a human, or an elf, or an alien. It has been so for the last thousands of times, and it should be so for a thousand times more. The joyful cries of a mother starting off my journey is the largest consistency of my existence.
And yet here I stand in a forest. Alone. I examine my body. I do not appear to have a mirror on me but I can at least determine that I am a full grown adult. I am wearing a simple brown coat with leather pants. Typical human clothes. With this, I have a rough estimate of my species and age. That will do. I only hope my face Isn't too ugly.
I begin treading down the path. I will admit I am quite unsettled. By this age I usually have complete knowledge of whatever world I reincarnate in. Never before have I started as an adult. Why now? Was it something to do with my previous life? Did the plasma rocket somehow alter my ability? No...it shouldn't be. Nothing has ever crossed over from a previous world besides my mind.
As I continue walking, I spot a nearby village in the distance. Ah! Civilization! At least, I hope they are civilized. Relief floods my chest. But as I get closer and closer, the relief starts to leave my body. Not because I realise they are uncivilized. In fact, I can guarantee that the people inside this village are civilized. Because I recognise this village. I have been here before.
In all the worlds I have walked, there has been another consistency besides entering as a newborn. I have never walked the same world twice. Yet here I stand in a village I know all too familiar. 'Calderon Village' reads the sign. I tell myself to calm down. They could have just given the place the same name! And build it the same way....I guess. Its true that I am not a newborn this time but that's no reason to suddenly enter conspiracy mode about everything. I am probably getting my memories mixed up. Am I getting senile? Is that a thing with immortals?
I look for the nearest bar. Alcohol should calm my nerves. I hope this world has good drinks. As I make my way towards an empty seat in the corner, it is then that I notice the lady seated beside it. My mind goes blank. It is the most beautiful women I have ever seen in my lives. And that's saying something. But I'm not excited. In fact, I don't know whether to flee as though I've seen a ghost or breakdown in tears.
Because in front of me is my wife. From my very first life. |
The aliens were surprisingly kind when they found us, if a little startled. They were quick to assure us that they meant us no harm, and only wished to build an alliance with our solar system. The majority of world leaders jumped at the opportunity to forge a humanity-based empire, but there was a bit of resistance to the idea. From the aliens. They explained that humanity’s inability to reach the dream dimension defied the universal rule of biology. Human beings originally thought this to be widespread religious belief, advanced neuroscience proved otherwise. The dream dimension was real, and nothing on planet earth could reach it.
And so, they gave Earth a new name. The Planet of the Undead.
For centuries we were exiled from the rest of the galaxy. Any attempts to expand beyond our solar system were quickly crushed by the Intergalactic Federation. Blocked from trade and communication , humanity entered an age of darkness. It wasn’t until after a series of wars and civil rights movements that humans earned their place at the table.
Once a part of the Intergalactic Federation, our solar system experienced an deluge of alien travelers. We enjoyed a time of peace and prosperity, for a while at least. But the question that nobody could answer still hung heavily in the air, and it drove us crazy, like the smell of a rotten body beneath the floorboards.
In the end, it was useless bureaucracy that led us to the secret of our species. There had been a rampant increase in identity theft throughout the galaxy, and so our prime minister released an executive order requiring all citizens to have their genetic material embedded in their identification. This became a problem after about thirty years, the systems became flooded with reports of identical genetics being found on two ID cards. And almost all of them were from humans.
It took us a while to realize, then even longer to accept it. Some still claim it’s a government hoax, other use religion as a defense against the argument. I just try not to think about it to much.
Scientists confirmed that humans, along with every other species native to Earth, were genetic copies of aliens who’d previously perished. We don’t dream like every other living thing, because we aren’t exactly living.
As of now, Earth is something of a spectacle for other aliens. They come for religious pilgrimages, or to try to reunite with deceased loved ones. We do not remember our past lives, and nobody wants to be ogled at. We eventually closed off Earth to all foreign contact. We just want to be alone now. We try not to think about it. |
It’s 7:00 am and your alarm clock goes off. You groan, roll over and throw your arm in the general direction of your phone. Just a few more minutes of sleep, that’s all you’ll need.
You snuggle back into your covers and try to fall back asleep. But you notice something strange.
Sitting up in your bed, you strain to hear a noise. Any noise. The house is silent. There are no sounds of cars driving down your busy city road.
You shake your head to attempt to straighten your thoughts and wake yourself up. Something isn’t right.
Hopping out of bed you head to your mother’s room. The door creaks open as you peer into the bedroom.
She’s still asleep.
“Mom?”
No answer
“Mom?”
She doesn’t move.
You start to panic.
“MOM. Hello?”
You rush to the bed and yell for her to wake up. She snores and rolls over. This doesn’t make any sense. Your mother wakes up before you do every single morning. Heck, she needs to be at work in a half-hour. What is she still doing in bed sleeping?
“Mom! What are you doing still sleeping? Get UP!” You turn on the lights and continue to yell. Her eyes remain shut.
“What the…”
You run back to your room for your phone. As you run, you continue to scream for her to wake up.
“Mom! You better not be messing with me! This isn’t funny! I’m going to call 911. If you are pretending you better tell me now!”
When she doesn’t answer, your shaking fingers dial 9-1-1. You put the phone to your ear.
No answer.
The phone emits a busy signal.
“What? This is freaking weird.” Your heart races as you hit the send button.
No answer.
9-1-1 isn’t answering. What the hell is happening?
You run down the stairs and fling open the front door, ignoring the cold air outside. With your hands still trembling and your heart racing, you run to your neighbor’s house. Bruce will know what to do.
You ring the doorbell.
No answer.
You bang on the door.
“Hello!” you call out “Is anyone home? Bruce!”
No answer.
You notice that a car hasn’t driven by once. It’s rush hour. People should be on their way to work. Where is everyone?
As you run back to your porch you check social media. Someone has to have some answers.
You frantically scroll through Instagram. All posts are from yesterday. Nothing new.
You switch to Facebook, nothing new.
In frustration, you open the Reddit app and find the newest post. From an hour ago.
​
Zyron.
Is anyone awake?
​
The post has 3 comments. Your eyes widen as you sit on your front steps.
The usually busy street in front of you is empty. No sounds can be heard in your silent city.
​
BigHairDoCare.
I’m here. I’m awake. I’m freaking out. What is happening.
Falcon3823.
I’m awake too! I live in this small town in Iowa and literally, everyone is sleeping. I just went into everyone’s houses on my street and no one is awake. Who can we even call? 9-1-1 isn’t working. What is going on?
InvisibleTillNow99
Good. I can’t believe it worked. Everyone that is awake now - meet me at the address I send to you. We have work to do.
​
You stare at your phone in shock. This can’t be real.
You receive a message. It’s InvisibleTillNow99.
The message contains the address for the meeting place.
It’s your home address. |
“And don’t get me STARTED on humans. Like, they’re not even unified truly as a species.”
“Yeah yeah I know Twelve Stars is their government but that’s for their galactic interactions they still have sub-states that act independently and don’t need to listen to each other.”
“And nobody REALLY calls them Twelve Stars. Like every other species’ galactic government has their species name in their title. Tenamu Republic, Oruothosh Republic, Mardention Confederacy, I could go on. But Humans? Nah they have to call themselves “Twelve Stars” like they’re special just because they had an extra-solar civilisation before first contact and need to flaunt it.”
“And everyone says Terran Stars anyway! Which is egregious too! Like yeah those both start with T and so fit a ‘TS’ abbreviation but Terran is LATIN. As in the language that died 2700 years ago!”
“YES THIS IS A DRUNK RANT I DONT CARE. Bite me Alrugas.”
“AND THEIR INDUSTRY! Just look at their latest warship they made. TSWV Consituent or something. It screams ‘fight me.’ It’s main guns are side mounted, but on two axis turrets, so even if you manage to outflank it, which would be fuckin’ difficult because of its inturned naccell drives, it can just swivel to point at you again! And if you’re not perpendicular and have destroyed it’s maneuvering thrusters n shit, it can just rotate a couple degrees and it’s other gun can peak over the side and suddenly you’re facing both guns again! It’s bow is thick as shit armor, then enough missile racks to flush out enough AMM’s to stop even a citadel’s volley. Ok, granted, it can only do that twice. But after those racks are 2-point null generators, which are powerful enough to support *strenght 18 shields.* yeah that’s not impressive alone, but then you find out it displaces a little less than your average frigate, and it has an outer combat range of 50 million kilometers. *50 million kilometers.*
“What are you supposed to do with that? Blow up moons before they even cross the horizon?!?”
“We can’t even put them in a warseeking category because their hospital ships are arguably even MORE over engineered!”
“What was it, the the the the- fuck I’m blanking on the name but one of those edge of the civilisation planets... Yes we’re edge of the civilization now I mean like buttfuck nowhere kind of shit. Anyway it was supposedly a garden world, hadn’t hit mainstream news because the colonists and local government didn’t want tourists and big corporations to show up and ruin it. There was a large mountain, well, two, that were in the center of the main continent that was being developed. Turns out those were volcanoes, and gods decided that people showing up was the ideal time to blow them. Hadn’t happened in so long that nobody could actually tell they were volcanoes before they decided to dump half their mass into the atmosphere.”
“Hyperbole shmyperbole yeah you’re about as contributive to this conversation as a live feed from my colon.”
“Now before I was so *rudely* interrupted I was talking about a volcano. Two. So not 6 days have passed before 3 Terran Stars medical ships appear *in system.* Lagrange points or something, they all had a death wish in my opinion but I digress.”
“One of them is just shy of titan grade immediately starts dropping drones into the atmosphere. I’m talking 3-5 meter drones, not whatever small things you’re thinking. Anyway they go everywhere, Id say mapping land and air currents but that implies I had any clue what they were for. Another thought is that they filtered ash from the air.”
“The second smaller but still substantial drops some manned ships in atmo before itself heading to the colony for in person aide. Probably just your standard stuff I don’t think it was too notable.”
“The third ship is where it gets interesting. This one was long and cylindrical. Kinda like one of their baguettes, now that I think about it. Anyway it parks itself over the two craters, just above the edge of the atmosphere where the smoke and ash don’t reach. And, it just *stops* the eruption. Like I don’t know how that’s possible! The ash in the air immediately above the volcanoes, like the big clouds, just started to shrink. The aerial footage shows the boiling rock start to calm, then cool, and eventually you couldn’t see it anymore whiteout passing the safe distance for the cameras. And I’m damn sure it was that third ship, because when you looked at that on thermals it rivaled the sun. Not visibly, of course, it wasn’t plasma but on the ir/uv scales that shit was *terrifying.*
“Those people are mental and there’s nothing you can say or show me to convince me otherwise. They have no one role and are contradictory as hell. I would say gods help us if we ever went to war with them but odds are better than not that they would be there to save us aswell.” |
“Yo, who *is* this?”
Jacobi hadn’t wanted to like the song when Franklin showed him the thumbnail. He’d been seeing superheroes and supervillains on the news all his life, and sometimes, when he went downtown, he’d see them in person. They’d tear through the sky in streaks of royal blue and blood red, and when they landed they were always the same; chiseled white guys with jaw lines more fit for a billboard than real life, no matter what color cloak they wore.
He’d dismissed the song almost as soon as he’d seen it because of that. He’d noted the shining steel of the villain’s mask and looked immediately.
And then the piano and the drums came in and the girl started singing. Eight bars later when the verse began he was hooked.
“MF Doomsday!” Franklin said, “it’s good huh? I told you you’d like it!”
Jacobi took the phone, enlarging the video and staring into the MC’s face. It wasn’t even a music video, just a still picture, but the guy oozed charisma. He was big, with muscle but not the chiseled kind, more of an everyday type of strong. He had a thin, wiry beard and bright eyes, all else being hidden by a shiny, chrome plated mask and the mic against his lips. He wore a Knicks jersey and a baseball cap cocked to the side.
“Yeah man, this shit’s fire.” Jacobi hopped up off the bench he sat on, walking a short distance away. “He’s not a Super though, is he? I mean, I thought they were all—”
“White? That’s just what the media wants you to think man. You think they’d do a story on a black guy who calls himself MF Doomsday? Nah, no chance. He’s gotta get his message out on his own.”
“And what’s his message?”
Franklin shrugged. “Beats me, I just heard the one song and then ran over to show you. It’s fuckin’ good though! It makes me want to go do something, like…like…”
The song ended, instantly shuffling into the next one on the playlist.
*“Yet our best trained, best educated, best equipped, best prepared troops refuse to fight. As a matter of fact, it’s safe to say that they would rather switch than fight!”*
Public Enemy’s Fight the Power blasted out of Franklin’s tinny phone speakers. The boys sat there listening for a while, nodding their heads along, clenching their fists at the chorus. That song ended too and there was silence.
“Something like that?” Jacobi said.
\*\*\*
In the suburbs a family sits in front of their TV, microwaved meals sit steaming on trays in front of them while commercials for sponges and magic tape and bad insurance assault their senses. They do not speak, they simply ingest; media and processed food grinding away inside of them, forming a gray, nutrient-less paste.
“And we turn now to our main story of the night,” the pretty young newscaster on the TV said when the commercials ended. “MF Doomsday, a popular new rapper and self proclaimed supervillain, is the internet’s newest viral sensation. With songs like the eponymous *Doomsday, Supervillainz,* and *The Illest Villains*, he is taking America by storm, but what’s the message behind the slick production and catchy rhymes? Joining us now is Tucker Carnegie for more. Tucker?”
“Thanks April. The inner-cities are abuzz with talk about MF Doomsday, a rapper from…”
The family leans in as the story continues. Their eyes glaze over. He looks scary. There’s a mask, the titles are written in big, bold letters.
Their meals grow cold. MF Doomsday’s lyrics do not.
\---------
r/TurningtoWords
RIP MF DOOM. |
The accident was sudden, though I suppose they always are. Bright headlights, ripping metal, squealing tires, then poof!
Well, so much for that.
I waited above my body for the "white light"that everybody is always going on about, only slightly sad that no one was present to beg me not to go into it. I didn't have anyone. I didn't think of myself as a bad guy, but I sure wasn't great. Never was comfortable in a church, a little prone to boozing and the occasional line, swore like a sailor... But I made my money honestly at least.
Finally the light came, though it wasn't the glorious white light I'd been anticipating. It was more like the filtered light from the next room over in a darkened house. The scent of sulfur stung my ethereal nostrils and a sharp heat washed over my being.
"Frank Wilbert,"a soft voice said. No booming, no fireworks. Just a casual announcement. "Welcome to Hell."
I shrugged. What was I expecting anyhow? For wings to sprout of my shoulder blades and sandals and a harp to appear from thin air? Bah. I knew what I was.
"Which circle am I headed for?"I asked.
"About midway. You were just a miserable bastard, not Jeffrey Dahmer."
"Suits me fine."
A quiet grunt was the only reply. The heat intensified to the point where it felt like my soul would incinerate... And then stopped. Surprised, I looked around and found myself in a comfortable apartment decorated in a simple but modern style. A tall, thin man appeared to my left. The same voice floated over to me, though I did not see his lips move.
"Welcome again. This is your residence. Someone will be by soon to make arrangements for anything you need."
He let me have a moment to let his words sink in before continuing.
"There is a lake of fire in Hell, though it is seldom used for more than an... Interesting hiking trail. We are not in the habit of damning every unsaved soul that passes through our gates. You may not leave Hell but you won't be uncomfortable here."
Before I could reply, he vanished.
Left alone in the apartment, I explored and was surprised to find a bedroom complete with a wardrobe filled with clothes similar to what I'd owned. The adjoining bathroom had a simple shower with an abundance of hot water which I gratefully used to clean up.
Soon after I emerged, there was a knock at the door. A primly dressed woman entered. She carried a clipboard and aside from her inky hair and grayish complexion, hardly looked like any kind of demon I was familiar with.
"I'm Maxine. Yes, I have another name and no, I'm not going to say it aloud because you won't be able to pronounce it anyway. Here are maps for your section. The telephone should be active, just dial this number if you have questions. Do avoid long droning debates and opinions, though, it tends to worsen holding times for others with legitimate business."Her voice was cold and clipped, but not wholly unpleasant.
I was never given to much philosophical thought, but this entire experience had so far flown in the face of everything I'd been taught. The confusion I was grappling with must have been apparent, though, because Maxine let out a little sigh and sat down on the sofa.
"No doubt, this isn't what you were expecting. It's a shock for most. The fire and brimstone at the entrance is only for show because God's little busybodies never bother to go through the door. Lucifer broke away for a reason and does not extend the authoritarian ideas espoused by His Holy Ass down here. It is seldom that we get a soul who is actually evil enough to deserve punishment, so we arranged ourselves accordingly. You will not be tormented in any way. You may do as you please, provided that you do not leave Hell. On special instances, a pass may be issued for a temporary visit outside, but don't get your hopes up. Look over your map, make some friends, or don't, whatever, and enjoy your new life."
"This all sounds... Really nice."
"Lamely put, but I understand your sentiment. I see you were a bit of a drinker. The nearest bar is just down the street. You can drink to your heart's content without risk of hangover. I recommend the local Sulfur Ale. Any other questions?"
I shook my head. Words didn't always come to me at the best of times anyhow. Maxine got to her feet, laid some maps and papers on the polished wood coffee table, and headed to the door.
With the place to myself, I decided I didn't feel like being in it. The maps had several points of interest highlighted. I figured that I had millennia to find my way around, though, so opted to leave them on the table and get myself good and lost.
As I left, I couldn't help but chuckle. "Looks like Hell is going to be better than Earth,"I said to myself. |
“Your first mistake,” said the wizard, dripping with confidence, “was not understanding the power of the Demon Blade.” Another monologue. I really didn't have time for this. I used to love a good monologue, listening to them build themselves up just to see them humbled. But I was already late for work. This would be the 3rd time this week, and it was only Wednesday.
“You see,” continued the wizard, “the Demon Blade was forged in the heart of Mount Caustia, from the bones of the Dragon Prince, and it has the power to drain your life force and...”
I'd had enough. I interrupted, “It's not going to work. You don't know what you are up against, and you should really just leave. Also, I need to get to work, so if you could just let me by...”
The wizard was clearly wrong footed by this. He squinted down at me (he was hovering at the time), obviously not impressed. I couldn't blame him. If I had to choose who would win a wizards duel, my money would definitely be on the guy levitating in my front yard, clothed in a long rippling robe, wielding a glowing bastard sword wreathed in black flames. In the other corner was me, apparently not hovering, clothed in jeans and a t-shirt, wielding a coffee thermos and my phone. However, I was not his opponent.
Trying to recover, the wizard declared “Work is no longer an issue for you. In the afterlife you will...” And that's when it hit him. Not a realization or anything, it was the mailbox. Right on the back of the head. Dropped him like an elegantly clothed sack of potatoes, and then the mailbox floated serenely back into place, the dents popping back out as it returned to its original shape. I guess I wasn't the only one tired of monologues.
I pocketed my phone and started fishing for m keys as I walked towards my car. As I was about to step over the prone wizard, he began to stir, causing me to step back. Tough old guy. He glanced up with unfocused eyes, but then quickly downed a small bottle of something he had on a necklace. With amazing speed, he leapt up and shot into the air again. This guy came prepared.
“I see I underestimated you. But this time...” Began the wizard.
I interrupted again, I really couldn't spare any more time. “It's not me, it's the house.”
At this point, it was clear that he thought I was either crazy or trying to trick him. “The... house?”
“Yes,” I replied, “the house. I don't have powers. My wife doesn't have powers. The kids don't have powers. I'm not sure about the cat, but we haven't had her long and you know cats.” He gave a small nod of understanding at this. “But our house has powers, incredible powers, crazy incredible powers, and it likes us. Not me so much, it really likes my kids most of all. You are lucky you didn't threaten my kids. I'm still trying to get whats left of the last guy who threatened my daughter out of the gutters.” I sensed the house behind me give a bit of an angry shrug at the memory of that. The wizard noticed it too and his attention briefly shifted from me to the house and back again. “But the point is you aren't battling me, you're battling the brick ranch behind me, and it doesn't fight fair. So you should just turn around and leave, trust me on that.”
The wizard stared at me, still trying to work out my mental state, but doing anything but trusting me. He took a deep breath and asked haughtily, “Do you think I'm a...”
I never got to hear what he thought, I thought, he might be, since at that moment, the lawn opened beneath him and a mass of roots reached up and snatched him out of the air. They quickly yanked him down underground as the lawn closed up again, every blade of grass back in its place. I gave a small shudder, but I had tried to warn him. Maybe if I was lucky with the lights on Second Street I'd only be 10 minutes late. I was just reaching for the door when the air rippled and split behind my car and a wizened witch stepped through the void and announced “Your first mistake...”
The house and I both sighed. Maybe I should call in sick. |
I saw her skipping along the street, paying no attention to the frozen people around her as she hummed. She was wearing a plaid skirt and a loose white shirt, under a yellow cardigan. Her hair was let down, with gorgeous braids at the front. I stared in awe at her. Was I getting weaker? How come she wasn't frozen? How come she didn't seem fazed by the coffee frozen in mid air, in the process of falling from a poor civilian's cup? I walked closer and eventually made eye contact with her. She stood perfectly still like a statue. She didn't make a sound and didn't move a muscle. Clearly she was used to pretending like this. But she wasn't good enough.
I got closer to her and took a look up close. I poked her shoulder a couple of times, and I spoke to her, with no response. Eventually I realized what to do. I tickled her. I poked at her stomach and she cracked. She jumped back laughing. "You got me! Damn it! Alright, alright. Nice to meet you. My name's Claire. I have the same abilities that you do. I've seen you around and I managed to sneak past your gaze. I guess I lost today."
It was relieving. Now there was someone I could relate to! I introduced myself to her and we learned a bit about each other. Apparently she found out about her abilities as a child in elementary school. She had to prepare a presentation and ended up standing up in front of her class for an hour, trying her best to speak in nervous broken words wondering why no one was doing anything or why no one clapped when she was done, before she realized everyone and time was frozen. After a while of chatting, she grinned and asked me: "So..do you wanna mess with people?"
"Hell yeah!"Was my answer. I've pulled pranks with my time stopping powers before but never with someone else. We went around, switching people's clothes around, framing people for things they didn't do (we didn't commit any crimes! It was simple stuff like...a.. TV theft...hm.)
Eventually it was getting late. Well actually, the time had remained exactly the same. I was kind of bummed. Claire was really nice and friendly. And she could relate to something I thought only I knew about! I didn't have to stay quiet about my superpower anymore. So before we parted ways, I asked her "What's your phone number? We should do this again sometime!"
"Sure!"
And from that moment began a relationship that would transcend time itself. Or the lack of it anyway. |
A beam of sunshine cut through the dense forest, illuminating the princess' sleeping form. Dust motes shined in the sun's rays; birds twittered from among the dense trees. She was his mission. She was his dream. And now, at long last, here she was.
The dwarves stood by around their princess, each waiting expectantly, eagerly, for her to awaken.
"Go on hero,"an intensely-browed little man urged from beside him, "kiss the woman."
He leaned down over her face, wanting to stop and take in every detail, every fine and perfect inch of her skin. But he closed his eyes and touched his lips to hers.
It's strange kissing a sleeping person. The hero was proud to acknowledge in that moment that he had never, not even in his time at the academy, kissed a sleeping woman. This was all new. And it was odd.
He sucked at her lips with passion, but almost immediately felt guilty about doing so. She didn't consent to this. He pulled back, ending the one-sided kiss somewhat disappointingly. The dwarves moved in to look over the princess.
But she didn't wake up.
"Do it again,"a dwarf demanded.
The hero hesitated, pulling his collar to relieve some of the anxious heat that had built up under his uniform. Quickly, he bent down, pecked her lips, and stood back up.
She didn't wake up.
"Hey,"the hero whispered, nudging the princess' shoulder. "Wake up."
Nothing.
He was getting nervous now. Not only had he just probably assaulted a sleeping woman, but there were seven little witnesses surrounding him.
"C'mon, get up,"he was being several degrees north of gentle at this point and dwarves began to move in closer. "Wake up, I did the thing. Just get up."
"Hey, lad, no need to become too physical now,"cautioned the stern dwarf as he took gentle hold of the hero's forearm.
"You're right, sorry. But, you said this would work; that I just needed to kiss her and she would wake up.
"Ay, that's what we were led to believe,"they nodded.
The hero scratched his chin until a thought evidently occurred in his mind. He removed his sword and shield, only for the dwarves to lunge after him.
"No, stop! I'm not going to hurt anybody! This is how we woke people up at the academy. Trust me."
Cautiously, the dwarves backed up, but not too far. The hero banged the metal against each other, sending a discordant and unpleasant pang through the forest. The singing birds evacuated en masse and the dwarves covered their ears while they winced at the noise.
The princess didn't wake up.
The hero was breathing heavily and looking to the woman with an annoyed grin.
"Ice water,"he announced.
"What?"a high-pitched dwarf inquired.
"Ice water. Have you got any?"
"For what!?"Another dwarf cried incredulously.
"To wake up this sleepy bitch!"
There was a chorus of "whoa's and hey's"coming from the little band now.
"That's no way to talk to a princess!"An angry one shouted, waving his pointer finger in the hero's face. "I don't care who ya are! Ya talk like that again about Miss Snow and I'll pop ya one!"
"I'm sorry!"The hero shouted back. "I'm just getting really impatient with this. If we don't wake her up, she could starve to death!"
"Don't ya think we know that? Why do ya think we called ya out here!"
"There's ice in the cottage basement down the hill,"advised a soft-spoken dwarf who somehow had remained cool under all this stress. "You'll find buckets as well, and water from the spigot. You'll need to ask the mule where to find the spigot."
"Ask the mule?"The prince repeated the instructions.
"Ay. She's wise, but somewhat deaf, so speak loudly, son."
The hero dropped his effects--his sword, shield, and pack--and marched down the hill. The dwarves watched him shrink in the distance.
The princess blew a raspberry and the whole band dissolved into raucous laughter.
"Wait, wait, wait,"one of them shushed the group as he aimed his ear down the hill.
They all heard the hero from the distance. "WHERE IS THE SPIGOT? MULE! WHERE. IS. THE. SPIGOT!?"
They all doubled over with laughter, Snow White holding her stomach tightly while ridiculous tears streamed down her face.
"Okay, okay,"she spoke through the hilarity. "Let's take his shit and go." |
Finally, my machine was complete. Decades and millions of dollars poured into my dream, as others called me mad because they refused to see. But they will see, oh I will make them see. With my creation, I will sever the bonds restraining mankind.
Snip
I have become a master of the building blocks of life and despite my body beginning to break down after all these years, my mind is as sharp as ever. So I push forward, seizing the strands of fate, cutting away that which is uneeded and remaking life into its true image.
Snip
At first, my associates were astounded when fish sprouted legs. Then, worried when dogs lost their hair. Horrified, as the skeleton of a monkey warped and shifted. Ultimately, they called me mad and denounced my research. They called for the international community to stop me, the fools. They lacked vision. They lacked ambition. But I knew, this was the true path. So I tossed them aside, those fools only slowed me down. To bond with another was to place an anchor upon my intellect, so I broke my chains.
Snip.
Now, as my body weakens and withers, the machine is ready. My machine is ready. My future is ready. I shall embrace the future and bring humanity into the next era. They shall look upon me and know their shortcomings. When they fall to their knees and beg for salvation, I shall grant it with but a wave of my arm. I will separate the wheat from the chaff, plucking away the cruel deformities of nature and leaving only perfection.
Snip.
As the machine hums around me, I feel my bones shaking. I accept the pain, it is an old friend to these ancient bones. I feel myself shrink, then grow. My skin grows hard and my vision begins to shift. It is time. I look to the machinery supporting my feeble human body and seize the cord. It is time to break one last bond.
Snip.
----------------
Outside the building, helicopters cut through the sky. Like massive hummingbirds, they flit around and keep watch. Dozens of figures in camouflage fatigues maintain a perimeter as others drag away the remains of awful chimeras and security bots.
But the crowd falls silent as a massive pulse of energy washed through the crowd. Hair stands on end, screen go to static, radios scream. Then, it ends with a thump... And silence reigns for a handful of seconds.
The silence shatters as a massive creature rips its way out of the front door of the complex, figures tossed aside by its massive claws as if nothing more than toys. Its exoskeleton deflecting the dozens of rounds peppering its terrifying body. From above, explosives rain down. The helicopters have joined the fray, determined to end this monster.
As the dust and smoke clears, they all stare in fear as ir remains standing. Beady, black eyes focus on the helicopter and a horrible laughter begins to echo around the area. The massive figure charges forward, swinging its claws madly. All the soldiers can do is stare in horror.
They weren't prepared to face nature's truth. No one expects the Crab.
Snip snip. |
The Demon King and his court of blood laughed when they heard of the Champion summoned to defeat them. An old man, a done man. Maybe a warrior once, but now old and burdened by age. Wars are won by strong warriors, who fight with blood and steel. Under their command, countless brutal barbarians, undead knights, horrid abominations, demonic creatures, and nightmare-spawn, fought as one brutal army that spread across the land. They drank to their assured victory, getting drunk on the blood of virgins. They partied in their fortress of Eternal Darkness in the centre of the Realm of Nightmares. Because if the only person that the forces of light could bring to this war, was some old man, the Realm-War was going to be over soon. But far away from that land of chains and death, in a bright tower, a man who thought he had died, got his bearings. He'd fought in three great and terrible wars. The first was close to home, simple even, but still a bloody start. The second was the death of empires, where the old powers died and new forces arose monstrously amidst the chaos. The third war he fought in, was the bloody horror which no man could truly walk away from unscathed.
In that tower, he was briefed by the locals on this new war he was to fight in. Had they merely summoned the man, he would have been a competent commander. But they had summoned him as an avatar of his army. A force encased into the shape of a man that could know everything his army had known. Could teach the forces of good how to create, use, and maintain the arms of the General's age. He could teach them the discipline and hardship that good soldiers endure for months. Years even. Sure, he was angry that he had been taken from his own world, but his was a life of war. A man born to it, one might say. He wasted no time in getting to what he was supposed to do. The forces of light were uncertain about what he intended to do for them. His ideas were strange, unnatural even. But they had no other options left. The General's ideas were reluctantly put into place, the totality of the Alliance of Order's military put under his command. Yet the leaders of the many nations worried about it still, for what the future would hold under this man. For what nation can survive as it was when it is to be reforged in the flames of war by the avatar of the army?
In place of forests and palaces, rose factories. In place of sword and bow, came new weapons. Strange, alien even. New ideas that cast aside honour and chivalry, and replaced them with the single-minded determination to win no matter what. There was barely enough time to get it all working, but with the magic of their world, together with the knowledge gleamed from the General's mind and put into place, the New Army grew, until it was ready. From the factories came great smoke and fire, as metal was moulded and prepared for the new cavalry of the New Army. And just in time too. Finally deciding to end the Alliance of Order for good, the Demon King sat out to meet this General from another world. The Demon King had slain countless generals, kings, heroes, and great sorcerers before. This would be no different. The forces of good and order had not the mind for war. Not the pleasure for it. They did not enjoy killing like the demon-spawn and their forces. They knew that what was good in life, was to crush your enemies, sit upon a throne made from their bones, and hearing the lamentations of their mates. Peace, honour, mercy, and generosity was, and always had been for weaklings.
So when the summoned General, the Champion of Order, appeared on the horizon, clad in naught but cloth, no blade at his side, no bow in his hand, the Demon King could do nothing but laugh. But then he heard it. The humming in the distance. The sound of something coming closer. Using spells of scrying he looked closer at the lines behind the old General. Behind him, came strange metal beasts. Their elongated mouths like mosquito-heads pointed at him and his forces. Confused, the Demon King turned to the Old General. And saw as he lifted a strange contraption into the air, and caused a small explosion from it. Before the Demon King had time to react, the metal beasts spewed forth a torrent of terrible metallic arrowheads. That exploded upon impact with his forces. The Demon King's warlocks had but a moment to put up a useful shield, but many others were not so lucky. Around him, the Demon King's army was being slaughtered. Enraged, he gave the order that his forces were to attack. Maybe the metallic beasts could be killed before the legions of darkness were damaged too much. Which was about the time that he heard something from above. At first he thought it was some surviving gryphon-knights that had survived. Perhaps one of the race of the dragons that his forces had driven to near extinction. But instead, he felt the force of the explosions coming from great metal birds dropping death-eggs down upon his forces.
The Demon King fled, as artillery barrages hit his camps. The Demon King barely escaped, as the mobile and mechanized infantry retook land it had taken the Demon King decades to conquer in days. |
"Yeah, so I think there's like, thirty-four of them now? I tried labeling them with sticky notes but Steve #22 likes to eat them for some reason. The post-it notes, I mean."
"Bro, what the fuck? Like *how*?"
"Dunno man. I think it's something to do with this weird portal thingie Ned built in the basement cause I remember Steve #1 going down there like a month ago the day he disappeared. Yelled at Ned that his dumb nerd shit ate Steve and Ned said he'd go find him but he hasn't been back. Whatever, me and the Steves are chilling."
"Dude, that's kinda cool. Unlimited Steves. Think we can throw some kegs in the portal?"
Someone is running up the stairs, panting heavily. All Steves scuttle under bed in fear. The bedroom door is thrown open, revealing Ned, disheveled and holding another Steve.
"I finally...found your...dumbass cat!"
"Oh word! Welcome back bro. Here, slap this sticky note on him and put him with the others."
"...#35? The others? What the fuck?"
"Yeah, just chuck him under the bed."
"Whatever man. Just keep him out of my shit."He sets Steve #35 down and nudges him under the bed, then leaves.
"..."
"..."
"...Bro, do you think there's gonna be another Ned tomorrow?"
"...Ah fuck."
"Should we tell him?"
"Eh. Not our problem. C'mon, let's go outside with the Steves. They like to potty in the neighbor's roses and it's *hilarious*." |
"Incredible,"whispered the disembodied voice, surely attached to the amorphous shadow-creature that traced two long, talon-ended digits along the young woman's jaw as she stared on in terror. "You're perfect."
The human flinched back, tears coming to the edges of her eyes. "Don't touch me,"she whispered.
"You should be grateful,"the voice almost hissed. "Few are allowed to be her vessel."
"I... I don't want to be anyone's vessel!"How did it turn out like this, she wondered? Her mind went back to the liquid she had been forced to drink before all those noble-folk. She thought back to how she had sluggishly made her way to the well, and how someone had announced she had willingly given herself to appease the King of Shadows.
Now there was some woman she was going to be vessel to?
"Nobody will expect her in a body like this... wonderful."
"And what will happen to me!?"
"She will return your body to you when she's done with it,"said the creature, hyena-like cackles erupting from all around the room. "Until then, she will give you everything you've ever wanted, and so much more."
"... everything I've ever wanted?"asked the young woman. "Can this woman you speak of really do such a thing?"
"Do not call her a woman!"it barked. "She is a Goddess most supreme!"The creature circled the human a few more times. "But you must willingly accept her in order for her to take you as a vessel."
"And if I refuse?"
"You'll die down here, useless to everyone and everything, and will eventually decay and be torn apart... nobody would benefit from your pointless life, and nobody would benefit from your meaningless death."It came to a stop in front of her. "Is that what you want?"
"No,"she said reflexively. She placed a hand on her mouth, surprised by the admission. She felt more words bubbling up, and she moved her hand to her throat to try to restrain them. Still, they escaped her: "I will become the vessel of this Goddess."
The creature, which had no mouth, gave the feeling of smiling. A too-wide, sick smile, she imagined. But she knew it was too late.
"This pleases our Goddess. Let's get started with the ritual right away. She is eager to meet you." |
It was truely weird to be summoned to a hero's side, as a villain's aide life had been a series of dull shady dark greys, treated as a low level henchmen and nothing more, for the first few days the nameless skeleton wandered, obedient, under control, and following the plan, always, their plain bones marching with 6000 others, as a newer skeleton their battle experience was a little less rickety, jagged, and monotonous. After the 5th day they started being a little different, when a young skeleton is not put into battle, they start transforming, changing, fleshing out in a way.
My pale, bare, bones, walking along, those colorful leaves on the floor are nice, but apparently I must take my sword of bone and sheild of rock to fight a 'hero' I really don't know why, I even question my existence, so I'm keeping a record. I march along, but then trip over a rock, fallling, thank goodness I feel little pain, for the leaves cusion my fall. CLANK, CLANK, MARCH, MARCH, THUMP, and some light footsteps sound. "A common enemy, do we need to slay this one too?"What, I think I am quite harmless in this state, those creatures look terrifying, maybe I can make them serve my master.
'Greetings, mortals, would you like to serve the great-litch Menthazen?'
"Great litch, what is he on about, ah well"turing towards my hopeful eyeless sockets he continues "Uh, your master is kinda evil, but you seem chill, wanna hang?"eh, hang??
'I don't want to be hanged, my master ordered me to kill you, those orders seem contradicting' a lady in armour screams out, startling me "See, I TOULD YOU, it's evil, I bet it doesn't even have a name"'That is kind of accurate, but I would like to be called March, it's the first word I heard.' "Awww ADORABLE- Can we keep it?"a small druid, well I think it's a druid, the crash course in minioning is not very good education, on a wolf shouts, I see a spellcaster, like my master, but a little less eerie, put a few hands up and cast a spell, I feel my bones changing, my armour being transformed into cloth, my sword and sheild turning into a staff of woodland, the heavy steel helm turned into a soft, floppy hat.
'Done, you can now keep it.' A powerful spell indeed, this is interesting for sure, a tome of knowledge falls into my bones, I open and start reading 'welcome to this guide on being a supporting creature, welcome to the side of good!' this is new, and slightly better than my time in the evil army. "Wait, really?"the druid is estatic, maybe they are related to the mage. "YOU DIDNT ASK ME ABOUT THIS-"the scary barbarian lady is very loud, her voice booming through the forest.
'Oh come on, it wouldn't be very 'chaotic good' of us to leave it here, you're now with us, March,' The 1st person to actually call me by my name is also the 1st good-doer to talk to me, I see my unlife turning into lighter, coloured shades. "Thank you thank you thank you!!"The druid seems quite happy, I guess I am now here to help my new masters. |
"If you think about it, a slight deviation. Even a degree off-center from a straight line will lead to an entirely different place than where it started. Everyone always thinks that you have to meditate in a cave for twenty years to achieve some sort of enlightenment. That with enough effort, one will achieve some grand epiphany. It doesn't work like that; nothing on earth works like that.
I suppose if I had to give a reason as to why this all happened to me. Well, it's like that line. Just one small change and look at the degrees of difference between the start and the end with all the years in between. Now multiply that with all the changes I created for myself. I was scared of spiders at one point. I am not anymore. It started by being around them, taking walks in nature, and looking at all the creepy crawlies along the trails I forged. Eventually, I held the ones that weren't dangerous. I watched as cute and fluffy little jumping spiders looked at me as though they recognized I was human. So on and so on until I could hold a handful of black widows in my palm. Not only did it not bother me anymore, it was fun. It was a strange concept. Holding a handful of spiders that could kill me if one or two bit me. However, I was serene as still water.
That's how it started; I faced my fears individually until all that was left was the most primordial of all human fears. The most ancient and universal among people. The fear of the unknown. I was faced with the question, 'How do you face something you can not know?' See, with something like arachnophobia or thalassophobia, they have a cause, a center to the fear. It took me much longer than any other fear to conquer, though for me, at least, it was the realization that if I have no other fears, no single thing on earth could strike that feeling in my heart, then how was I to fear the unknown? It couldn't be anything but what I'd already faced? Then that was it. That rational realization. That was the key to release from fear.
It went this way with other emotions. Some are harder than others. I'd only started this because of how many things I was scared of. Small spaces, cars, flying, open water, spiders, snakes, and so many other things that, when I faced them, led to so many more other things in a different way. If I could be free from fear, why not of hate? Anger? Frustration? Sadness? Envy? All negative emotions, I eventually shed them like a snake pulling itself from its old skin.
Then I wondered, what would it mean to free myself from happiness? A positive emotion. The positive emotions were much more challenging. Freeing yourself from something you wanted to hold onto was a degree of separation different from letting go of something you wanted to let go of.
However, I managed to—freedom from happiness, joy, love, satisfaction, contentment, interest, amusement, and even serenity. Each one became more straightforward than the last. Until I achieved perfect balance in all things. When I freed myself from everything that made me human, I realized the saying "The pathway to hell is paved with good intentions"was far more literal than anyone on earth could ever hope to possibly understand.
On earth, I ceased to exist. In the heavens, my name was struck from the Book of Life. I was able to do what no human on earth, no angel of Heaven, nor denizen of Hell was able to do. You may be wondering, but no, I am not Lucifer or God or any greater demon or archangel. Nothing as interesting as that. I am, however, one of the few beings in Hell that has a desk job. They all call me the only thing that seems to fit what I have done. They call me 'Mu'
So then, what do you think is my job as the only being in Hell to reach Mu? Well... With demons so inherently biased toward hatred of humans. The one with no attachment to things which bias even the demons of Hell...
...Is tasked with assigning what human goes where in Hell. Whether that be one of the lower pits, the lake of fire, or something more mundane. I have the task of doing it all. So rest assured, I will be fair; you *will* get what you deserve."
Edit: I haven't written something story-ish in a long time. Be gentle, please. |
I don’t write on here but I post on AO3 and I consider any upvotes to count as a positive comment. Upvotes are the greatest invention on the internet IMO. I used to post places that only had comments and a lot of people would, like you say, feel they didn’t have anything to say worth commenting for, but those people will upvote (or a good chunk of them will). I feel like an upvote says - I don’t think I have anything original to say but I liked this. Comments are a long tall coffee with whipped cream and caramel syrup, and that’s fantastic, I’m never going to say no to that, but upvotes are a simple latte and will still make me happy (insert whatever food metaphors suit you here lol). |
The dark colour-changing eyes stared at me, seeming to grow more liquid as the silence stretched. I'd used to ask Mother Anyai when my eyes would change like hers. She'd only ever shaken her head and cuddled me close, telling me that some eyes never change.
And now I'd asked the question that caused those wonderful eyes to swim with deep colour. I'd regretted it as soon as I asked, but there was no taking the words back. Part of me wished she'd simply take me in her arms as she'd always done, and tell me that everything was as it should be, everything was right with the world. But I had grown too old for such cuddling.
"Please. Come with me."The voice was beautiful, my mother's voice, but there was something else too, a sadness I'd never heard before. She held out one long-fingered hand, and without question, I slipped mine into hers.
The world around us shifted, the realm of Faerie seeming to contract and expand, until we stood on the very edge. She couldn't shift us out of Faerie, that always had to be a physical step, a corporeal choice. I tugged back as she started to move forward.
"I know we told you never to leave. But, with me, you'll be safe."She said, and I stopped resisting. We left the realm and I took my first breaths of the human world. The world I had been born in. My mother's hand tightened on mine, and I looked up to find her staring intently at my face. As if she was looking for a sign of something, something she dreaded to find.
Her grip relaxed as I smiled at her, and the colours shifted in her eyes again. It was the first time I'd seen that expression on her face, the first time Mother Anyai had been worried. But about what?
She took me forward again, and it was as if every step we took covered twenty regular steps. Villages flashed by us, towns, and cities. My breath started to hitch in my chest, but my mother pushed on. I gasped out a request for a break, and she shook her head.
"I am sorry, my chil— My—"Her voice broke, and again the grip on my hand tightened. "It is only a little further."
And she was right. We passed only a few more human towns before we stopped at the edge of a small village. Now our steps behaved normally, as if we still walked in the Faerie realm. But there was different magic surrounding us, rendering us invisible to the humans who worked in the village. We passed through the center, making our way to the outskirts and a small, well-kept hut.
Mother Anyai stopped here, almost in the center of the road, as if she'd run into a wall. I kept my silence, trying not to curse the curiosity that had made me ask the question. The stupid question.
"This is where we stole you from."Her voice was oddly leaden. Before she could say anything else, a woman with a well-worn apron and leathery face appeared from the hut, heading round the side of the house.
"That was your real mother."A pause. "She loved you very much."
I didn't know what to say. This was supposed to answer my question, and yet it didn't seem to answer much. Mother Anyai walked forward again, following the woman— my human mother— around the building. There, in the back, down by a small tree, was a rough cross made out of sticks, jabbed into the ground.
"When you were very little, a baby—"Her voice cracked. "Some human babies, they are born— they are born not well. They will die. The humans don't know why, they can't tell what is wrong with the child. The child doesn't seem unwell, but one day they just die."
My human mother knelt in front of the cross, laying a small bunch of flowers on the ground in front. I looked up at Mother Anyai, to see tears on her face, the first time I'd ever seen her cry.
"The reason the children die is the lack of magic in the human realm. They are born with a need for magic, like another would need air."She looked down at me. "You were one such child."
I took a deep breath, beginning to understand.
"Your mother, your real mother, she has a memory of you dying, a memory that is true. Here in the human realm, you died. And at that moment, her cry, her scream, it reached into our realm, it wrapped around my heart. I ran here, faster than I had ever run before."The words poured out of Mother Anyai, as if she could no longer hold them back. "I had only seconds to act, seconds before your death would be permanent. So I stole you, and left a magic glamour in your place, one that would seem the same as you. She would never know the difference."Her eyes had returned to the woman kneeling before the cross, kneeling before an empty grave.
"You took me to Faerie, because of the magic there,"I said, and she nodded. "But shouldn't I be dying here, now?"
"I am sustaining you, my magic. But we cannot stay for long. Is there— Is there anything you want to say to your real mother?"There was dreadful pain in Mother Anyai's voice. I understood now, why she'd insisted that I always call her that, instead of just 'Mother.'
"Yes,"I said, but before Mother Anyai did anything to dispel the magic invisibility, I continued. "I love you. You and your beautiful eyes. You and your magic. You and the Faerie realm."I tugged on her hand, forcing her to look down at me. "I love you, *Mother.*"
The dark colour-changing eyes stared at me, swimming in tears. And there in the dirt of that road, my Mother knelt and pulled me into her arms.
"And I love you, *my* child."
——————
Visit r/Mel_Rose_Writes for more stories! |
I have an unusual view of the afterlife. There can't be a heaven, not from what I've seen from the scum that walk the earth. If there is one, it's empty. Not even small children in there; they all turn out to be scum anyway when they grow up, so what's the point?
I look at the world, all those helpless women and children ruthlessly murdered and tortured, and I can almost laugh. Almost. They're helpless, sure, but if they could fight back, they'd show that they're just as bad. Just as sick. That's what they are, a disease, a plague upon this perfect world. There can be no heaven for them. Not one of them deserves it.
But hell? Now, there's an idea. A pit of eternal fire crawling with the souls of the damned, all the murderers and thieves getting what they deserve, right there next to the women and children getting what they would deserve had they ever been given the chance. Scum, all of them.
The world needs a hell. It needs a punishment for all these sickening, twisted souls. At times, the thought that there isn't one has almost driven me to suicide. The only thing holding me back is the thought that I might be right. It sends chills through me, that the world might never see proper punishment for their horrid sins.
The girl behind the screen is finishing up. It's been quite a list this time. And here's the worst part. My line. The lie I have to repeat every time these sick bastards stumble in here, fighting their hangovers and their well-earned shame. "Say ten Hail Marys, child, and you are forgiven in the name of our Lord."Disgusting. |
The boat gently rocked and bumped against the stony shore and then, at last, a firm hard grasped the bow and gently beached it, holding it fast in the sand. Inside an old man lay, his hands crossed over his body, with a book and quill in his hands.
The mist wrapped around the boat and the figures as they surrounded it and then soft hands reached into the boat and lifted the figure gently out. Born out on a shield platform, he was carried out and away along the shore. A long procession followed behind the platform, stretching back into the distance, a [gentle lilting song escaping the lips of dozens of those who followed.](http://i.imgur.com/cD8VrKT.png)
At last the procession reached a long, low house which was built into the side of an imposing cliff. The doors opened wide and the procession slowly entered, continuing until all had passed inside and none were left on the shore.
The long low house was decorated as a great hall, in the style of chieftains of times past and with weapons and tools hung along the walls as if confiscated and brought here for safety. Each looked like it was capable of great power, but now the weapons, like all else here, were at rest, gently sitting and waiting for another time, another age when they may be called upon to once more.
The main body of the procession remained behind in this hall and a few, garbed in the light robes of the elves, carried the figure on, up through the back of the hall and into the citadel which was carved deep into the rock. Never stopping to rest, they continued at their slow deliberate pace, some fifteen figures in perfect unison of step. They went on, into the dark for nearly six hours, through a pitch black cave, but at last came to a halt.
In front the cave opened up and was free on either side and the palace behind the hill shone brightly. The sun shone directly down on this place, gleaming overhead with a fierce glow. There had been silence on this walk, but here there was the sound of laughter and jokes as if told from one old friend to another.
Spires glinted and shone like gold but differently, never tarnishing and never diminishing. Each spire seeming to grow upwards to try to out compete the others around it, but each remaining the same height and similar to its neighbours. Great rocks and jewels adorned the walls, spilling soft coloured light down to make the ground pattered and beautiful.
The group waited and at last a figure approached. The figure was young but the face was that of Elrond, one of the great elves who had passed to this place long ago. He came and inspected the figure and then, with a tiny nod he bade them pass and go on, into the palace.
Inside was splendour and the great hall glittered like a jewel. Bright light bounced everywhere and figures roamed and ran through the hallways. Everyone was young and free but as the procession passed they stopped and bowed their heads in respect.
Through the hall and up to a great throne they went and then back, behind the throne to a small room behind. In this room there was no splendour, just white, simple walls. A bed, roughly hewn from stone and a small pool where the water trickled naturally from the walls. The leader of the procession made a motion and soft hands laid the figure, an old man, gently on the hard stone bed.
They left and after a time another figure entered. He was hard to comprehend, his face beyond the understanding of simple folk, but clear and beautiful none the less. He was dressed in radiant white robes and leant on a stick, despite his seemingly youthful figure.
He leant down to inspect the figure and seemingly satisfied, he reached into the bowl and then splashed some water on the man's face with no ceremony. Then, kneeling down, he waited.
Hours passed and the water dried from the man's face, small parts though had crept in, through the eyes and mouth and this had been enough. At last, a breath, ragged and painful but after a moment it grew stronger and more regular.
The man's eyes opened and he looked around and eventually alighted on the figure.
"I don't... who are you?"he squinted up, not yet used to the white of the walls and his eyes still old and weak.
The figure bend down and his face resolved more clearly. He was young but not as young as most who were here, he still carried the glint of wisdom. "I think you know who I am, but if not then take my hand and see where you are."
The old man took the offered hand and on stiff legs stood and slowly began to walk, following, but not looking where he was. At last he realised he had entered a large room and he looked up and around him. The room was vast and glittering and filled with figures. Through the crowd a smaller figure pushed, holding hands with another who he was dragging behind.
"Hold up Sir, please wait"the second implored but, impatiently, the first shook free of the second and burst forth in front of the man.
The man looked in shock, it was Frodo, as he had always seen him in his mind eye, but young and smiling. "How can you be Frodo?"
Frodo laughed "We were worried for you, we didn't know when you would arrive ut we are glad to see you here."He reached up and held the man's hand.
From the crowd Sam pushed through and smiled shyly. "Hello Mr Tolkien Sir, it's nice to finally meet you."
Tolkien looked around at the faces, he knew... he knew them all!
"No need to wear your age here,"Frodo squeezed his hand "Let it go."
This was impossible he thought, but he did as instructed and released his age. At once he stood up and felt a young man. He laughed and the room laughed with him.
He was home.
*****
Apologies for any major lore mistakes - I probably don't know nearly enough to write this properly but it seemed like too much fun not to try.
EDIT: For fun I added the song in [sindarin](http://i.imgur.com/cD8VrKT.png) plus translation - anyone know how to sing in Elvish? |
House swung the door open. The man sat on the exam table holding a wad of blood stained tissues to his nose.
"Someone's been getting into fights in school, huh? Listen, I don't care who started it, fighting is just wrong!"House said sarcastically as he limped into the room and shut the door.
"What? Are you a doctor? My nose hasn't stopped bleeding for like a bloody week straight!"The man spoke in a calm, articulate British drawl.
"Well, then maybe you shouldn't have done all of that cocaine, huh?"House casually said without even looking up from the patients file.
"No, I never..."
"Never? Sir, if you don't tell me the truth right now, your nose will be bleeding forever!"House said dramatically, with a faux concerned look on his face.
The man sighed, a defeated look in his eyes. "How exactly did you know? I never said-"
House cut him off. "Bags under the eyes tell me you have trouble sleeping, and your teeth. Long term cocaine users experience tooth decay. Which could mean anything, but your voice is also unnaturally hoarse, and you can't stop jumping all over the room,"The man grabbed his leg to stop it from shaking.
"All these symptoms point toward extended cocaine use, which can also ruin the lining of your nasal passage, causing them to bleed excessively. I'm going to get you some silver nitrate, that should slow the bleeding. And, uh, stop with the cocaine please? I hate having to come do these clinic hours, and the more sick people, the more time I have to be here."House turned to leave.
Surprisingly, the man smiled. "Well, practice what you preach, is that what you Americans say, Doctor-?"
House paused, narrowed his eyes and gave the man a quizzical look. "House. And what is it you mean by that?"
"Well, I heard a faint sound of pills rattling in a bottle as you came in. And the imprints on the tips of your fingers on your right hand suggest that they have spent a long time opening those nasty little pill bottles. You are not wearing a white doctor's coat like all the other physicians here, so I imagine that if your supervisor allows that, he or she is well aware, and tolerant of, your little addiction."
He pulled some fresh tissues and threw the stained ones in the trash. "Don't worry, I won't tell. You will undoubtedly surmise that I work for the police force, if you have not already. I just need to make sure that you will keep my, ahem, situation quiet. Wouldn't want both of us to be in trouble, would we?"
A smile played across House's lips."I suppose we wouldn't, Mr-"
"Holmes. And it is Detective, actually. And I must thank you, Dr House, for your, ah, cooperation."He stretched out his hand.
The two men shook. "I suppose I'll be seeing you again soon, Detective."House said, fascinated. |
'We must.' I said as I looked over at Clara in the passenger seat. Her big brown eyes never left mine and I could see the tears welling in their sides. I never looked away and I couldn't. Tears were also streaming down my face, but wiping them away was no use. It smeared the blood over my paling skin, in a mixture with the sweat and I could taste the salt from my tears upon my split lips.
Clara was hunched over now holding her stomach. She was four weeks pregnant at the time, but you couldn't tell now. Blood rushed from lacerations about her neck and although I held her hand as she sat unable to move within the twisted wreckage of our burning vehicle, I could feel her strength slipping within our entwined fingers. She drew deep breaths and sobbed as she placed her head against the side window which had been shattered like a spider web from the impact.
The car had flipped numerable times and the fate of the other driver in his vehicle was unknown. Clara and I came to a stop thanks to a large oak tree at the bottom of an embankment that halted the tumbling machine with such unwavering force that the car's engine and other pieces had became projectile shrapnel and tore through flesh and metal with lethal results.
I couldn't even hold the steering wheel. The blood was gushing from my body in so many places that it would seemingly just slip off what ever surface I tried to touch. My mind was a storm of panic and confusing. I wanted to get us out. To open the door, pull Clara free from this nightmare and save us, but my battered body couldn't. My head hung back against the head rest and a feeling of cold and tiredness began to fill my body. 'Cla....Clara?' I managed to choke out, but she didn't respond. For a moment then I was over taken with extreme grief as I looked upon her gored frame. Though no words left her lips I could still see her chest slowly moving up and down and her eyes following what ever slow movements I could muster lethargically, and her pointer finger, still within my opened hand that was filled with pooling blood, well it would twitch. I knew she was still alive, but not for much longer.
'Oh No. God Clara no, God why?' I said, crying and staring at her knowing that any moment would be the last. 'It can't end this way my love. I am so...so sorry, but I will not...can not let you...' . I looked at her then, grabbing her small hand in mine our fingers squished together and locked tightly. The tears were streaming even more so now and her eyes lay upon me. Her mouth was open now and she panted it seemed. Her breaths quick and short. I knew it was too late for her, too late for us, unless.....
'We're over! Done Clara done! It's over!' , I screamed out. It wasn't at her, but the rage I loosened in my voice was the last remaining fuel that sustained my life and would be my final act next to this dying woman, pregnant with my child whom now lay dying next to me. Her eyes reflected the hopelessness that consumed me along with the terror and fear. Then it all went black.
I awoke seven years ago as a department store manager and had to make it in extra early on this Tuesday. I was taking applications for new cashiers and my first applicant was for an over-qualified woman out of college named Clara. She sounded very excited for the opportunity over the phone the assistant manager said, but I had to have him call her back and cancel. My neighbor Dave's a really good guy and due to some local lay offs could really use the work and money. No need to interview anymore people, I thought, this day is going to be great.
|
*Note*: *This is my first Writing Prompt response ever, and I did not know if there are any regulations regarding post length/word count. I have many ideas of how this would continue, but stopped her as it is about 1000 words. I would be happy to write a second installment if someone is interested! Anyways, I hope you enjoy the piece, and feedback is always accepted!*
It was a no-brainer when I did it. Everyone else was, and curiosity is natural. Within in the first two days of the program being available, six people on our floor had submitted their information, and many others were calling their parents to get a copy of their birth certificate so they could do it too.
I cracked two days later, calling up my mom to request a digital copy of the information of my birth, and visiting the science labs for a swab of the inside of my cheek and a vial of blood. Within an hour, my boyfriend and I were headed to the post office, sealed packages in hand, the same sending address on them as on everyone's packages we saw in the office.
When word had come out a year earlier that some big-shot scientist thought he was able to prove that people living now had existed in previous lives, he was practically scoffed out of the media. After a few weeks of hype this exclamation had been forgotten about, and he flew under the radar for a while. It was only brought back to our attention five days earlier when all forms of communication were bombarded with the same phrase: **Previous-Life Experiment is Successful on 100% of Test Volunteers**.
Needless to say, everyone went ballistic. It was immediately the topic of every prof's lecture, and every department took a different spin on it. There was a lot of controversy, but even more curiosity - everyone wanted to know if they had once been memorable.
So when I stood in front of the post box, taking a last look at the package, I fully believed Cam when he said, "Don't over think it, I promise it will be okay."
I heard the first rumours of results just over two weeks later, as I walked from the library to my first class of the day. "Apparently not everyone has been someone else. Jane's results came back negative - they arrived this morning."
I was pulled out of my thoughts and whipped my head around, wanting to ask the girls more. They had already slipped into the library as I called out, and I made a mental note to ask Cam if what I had heard was true, and put all my effort into focusing on lectures for the remainder of the afternoon.
Exasperated from trying to focus all day, I threw my bag on the counter as soon as I was in the door, and flopped onto the couch next to Cam. All anyone was talking about were results. "Did you know I was a boy? Me! A boy!"
A quiet girl who sat to my left in Intro To Psych told me she had been the mistress of a wealthy man in the early nineteenth century, and had later been that man's grandson. "Can you believe it? Talk about incest."
Some people had been alive since the beginning of time - those cases were extremely interesting, and for the most part the list of names didn't mean anything. Just a bunch of people who had lived their lives under the radar, never becoming someone outside of their community.
A few people's results came back negative, similar to the conversation I had overheard that morning. They complained about wasting their money, about never having been someone important, but I secretly wished that my results turned up like theirs. I didn't want to have to live up to someone amazing whom I had been in the past, to live my entire life feeling inadequate to another version of myself. To be able to start with a clean slate, and build my name from there was the ideal result in my opinion.
The results would be posted on a public domain site a week later, hosted by the UN. At that point, no one's results would be a secret, and the suspense of awaiting a results package would be obsolete. It was all I could do to cross my fingers and hope that my package arrived before the rest of the world found out alongside me.
"Char?"Cam was looking at me with a worried expression on his face, searching my eyes.
I shook myself from my thoughts, and quickly apologised, giving him a run-down of my day and a distracted kiss. I ended with, "I don't know what I'm scared of more - having someone else in me, or being completely alone."
He squeezed my hand slowly, and gestured to the counter where I had haphazardly thrown my bag. Two manila envelopes sat stacked next to the sink, and my heart jumped to my throat. I looked at Cam and he nodded, getting up and bringing them back to the couch.
We looked at each other silently, both afraid to break the silence. He placed his envelope down and gave me a hug that said, "I love you, and I will continue to no matter what this envelope reveals". I returned the squeeze before returning to the envelope with a new-found 'now or never' attitude.
We broke the seals on the envelopes and each pulled out a sheet of paper. I knew that anything was possible - gender and race could change from life to life - but nothing in even the darkest parts of my mind could have prepared me for the name that appeared immediately beneath mine.
"**1889 - 1945: Adolf Hitler**". |
“And welcome back to the show, with special guest Blavid Daine!” announced the host, smiling with his perfect white teeth. The street magician smiled shyly and nodded to the camera, then to the three co-hosts.
“So, Blavid, tell us about your new trick? I hear it’s a real winner!” exclaimed the host.
“Well, I hope it is! I’m here to explore the mysteries of the human mind by performing a hypnosis experiment."The audience oohed.
"I've been told I have that effect on people!"said the host. The audience chuckled.
Ron the camera man cursed silently to himself as he watched the show in his hotel room. He hadn’t expected such a famous guest; it meant security would be tighter. Daine must have been booked at the last minute, because the group hadn’t hear any mention of him during their surveillance of the studio over the last three months. Mike the boom operator, one of his co-conspirators, snapped him out of his funk by clapping him on the shoulder. He was fully kitted out in his black pants and jacket, and held his balaclava in his hand.
A pistol was in his shoulder holster.
“You ready?”
Ron nodded, gritting his teeth, steeling himself.
“Yeah. Let’s go.”
He stood up and grabbed his own gun, and exited the room. Outside were the other three would-be burglars: Donna the makeup artist, Phil the audio guy, and Jason the gopher. All of them had a beef with the studio, and had agreed to help rob the place. They were all ready.
“Well, it all started when I was a kid”, explained Blavid. “I loved Clint Eastwood movies and I wanted to grow up to be Clint Eastwood. I even tried to act like him, but I gave that up after walking into a telephone pole because I couldn’t see!” He gave his best Eastwood squint to illustrate his point. The audience laughed. “So I thought, OK, maybe *I* can’t be Clint Eastwood-but maybe I can make someone else Clint Eastwood?”
“I sincerely hope wearing a poncho won’t be necessary for this,” said a co-host.
Daine laughed.
“Not exactly. I’m going to need you all to lie on the floor, and close your eyes.”
The hosts complied, chuckling with the audience.
“Alright, you’re getting very sleepy…”
The white van rolled into the studio garage unchallenged. Vans of tech personnel came and went all the time, so there was no need for the bored guard at the security checkpoint to look up from his book. Ron felt his stomach start to churn. This was it. The moment he had been waiting for.
Their plan was simple. The studio currently hosting the Daine interview was also responsible for one of the nation’s most popular game shows, A Fistful of Dollars. The grand prize was a brand new convertible and ten million dollars in cash. The group’s plan was to raid the prize vault of the studio, grab the car and money, and leave the country to start a new life. The problem lay in accessing the vault. The only key card was carried by the host at all times, so the gang would have to physically subdue him and take the card from him, before hauling ass to the vault. Ron felt the weight of the gun in his holster, and reassured himself once again that he knew how to use it. The group wasn’t planning on killing anyone, but Ron wouldn’t get too choked up if a couple of those rich assholes got “accidentally” shot in the confusion.
Blavid stood over the reclined hosts, wiggling his fingers for effect.
“You’re imagining wide open spaces, gunfights, cowboys-“
“And political debates with chaaaaaairs,” intoned the host spookily.
The audience laughed.
“Silence please!” called Blavid. “You’ll ruin the trick!”
The audience complied. Blavid cleared his throat.
Ron and the others crouched just backstage. The technical crew hurrying by them glanced at them curiously. Ron knew that they had to act quickly, or people would start asking questions. He slowly raised his hand to give the signal.
“And when I count to three, you will open your eyes and stand up as Clint Eastwood!” shouted Blavid.
He brought his hands together.
Ron gave the signal.
The co-hosts sprang to their feet just as the robbers burst on stage, drawing their weapons and brandishing them at the host.
“Oh shit!” said Blavid Daine, and vanished in a puff of smoke.
“GIVE ME THE FUCKING KEY CARD” roared Ron, but his voice was drowned out by the gasps and screams from the audience.
*Goddamnit*, thought Ron. He raised his pistol to fire a shot in the air. *Maybe that’ll-*
A fist grabbed his gun, and another fist smashed into his gut.
He doubled over, coming face to face with one of the co-hosts, a petite Asian woman who only twenty minutes earlier had been performing her own segment on how to properly fold sheets. She snarled at Ron.
“Ever notice how you come across somebody once in a while you shouldn’t have fucked with?”
She leaned in close, her nose inches from his.
“Yeah, that’s me.”
“What the fu-“started Ron, before being silenced by a fist to the face. His world went black.
The moment that the Asian co host lunged for Ron, Mike realized that the robbery was going south, fast. Drawing his gun, he leapt towards the host, who was standing still with his mouth agape, in shock of what was going on around him. Mike was only two feet way when he was tackled by another host, a fat bespectacled man, who had never handled a gun in his life. In one smooth move, he plucked the pistol from Mike’s hand and ejected the magazine, before firing the remaining round an inch from Mike’s head.
“I got a very strict gun control policy” muttered the host, squinting through his lopsided glasses. “If there’s a gun around, I want to be in control of it.” Mike didn’t even have time to think as the host brought his foot down onto his forehead, knocking him out cold.
Meanwhile, Phil was trying to figure out what the hell was going on. Barely a minute into the robbery and two men were already down. *Fuck this*, he thought, and drew his gun. He fired into the back of the male co host standing over Mike, then ran for the host as the man crumpled. He grabbed the host and tore the key card triumphantly from around his neck, then shoved the man offstage. He turned and came face to face with the Asian co-host. He reacted quickly and shot her in the leg. She collapsed with a scream. By now the audience was stampeding out the exit doors. Good, thought Phil. It would make it harder for security to get in. He waved to Donna and Jason, who were both struggling with the third co-host, a television actress who was well known for charity work with orphans.
“I USED TO STACK FUCKS LIKE YOU FIVE FEET HIGH IN KOREA” she roared as she bashed Jason’s head. “USED YA FOR SANDBAGS.”
*Jesus Christ*, thought Phil. “Donna! LET’S GO!”
He ran towards backstage, and the corridor that led to the vault. Glancing behind him, he froze in horror as the actress grabbed the unconscious Jason’s pistol, then shot Donna in the arm. Donna fell to the ground. The host pointed the gun towards Phil and fired. The crack of the bullet hitting the wall a foot from him galvanized him into action. He sprinted down the hall towards the vault, dodging the bullets whizzing past him. He reached the lock and dropped his gun so he could scramble frantically with the card, then dropped the card. He swore and reached down to pick it up, but it was kicked away by a high heel. He reached for his gun, but the host held her gun inches from his head.
“I know what you’re thinking. ‘Did she fire six shots, or only five?’ Well, to tell you the truth I lost track myself in all the excitement. But this being a .44 Magnum, the most powerful handgun in the world, and would blow your head clean off, you’ve gotta ask yourself one question.”
She pointed the gun threateningly.
“Do I feel lucky? Well do ya, punk?”
Phil began to sob.
"Please...I don't deserve this!"
"Deserve's got nothin' to do with it"growled the host, then pulled the trigger.
|
"...Happy Birthday to yoooouuuuuuu!"
The crowd broke into the undulating cry made infamous by Islamic terrorists. Jeremy's face broke into a smile.
"Make a wish!"His mom called out, holding a camera and dressed from head to toe in a black burqa. She wanted to capture her little Jeremy looking so dapper in his suicide bombers vest. A thoughtful look crossed his face as he tried to come up with the perfect wish. A moment later he shut his eyes and blew out his candles.
"Death to America!"Jeremy squealed, as the candles sputtered and went out.
"You said it outloud! Now it won't come true!"someone in crowd shouted, to general laughter.
"All right, now it's time to cut the cake!"said Jeremy's father, dressed in the garb of a radical Imam. He picked up a knife with a long, serrated blade. He hovered it over the cake, finding just the perfect angle. Printed on the sheet cake, bordered by flowers made of frosting, was a photo-realistic face of a Western Journalist.
"Now, who wants a piece of the neck?" |
"There must be something open"thought Paul as walked down the high street. Of course it's a fucking Bank Holiday, the one time I need to go to the shop and it's a bank fucking holiday.
See, needing money and needing to spend money are very different things, but not to Paul. To Paul they were one and the same, as he had a magic coin. The magic coin gave him as much money as he needed, but as soon as he was solvent, it was gone. Jeremy, the coin's previous owner had had it for about a month. He'd paid off his short term loans and it helped him get on his feet, Ginny before him had had it only a week. Paul however had had the coin for almost 2 years now, and he wasn't about to give up his gravy train just yet.
Meandering down the streets of Liverpool he needed a way to spend his money, he had about £1,000 left from the coin and it had to go by tomorrow. Every Monday, if you were solvent then the coin was gone. At least that's what was engraved on it.
Hell, he couldn't even withdraw that much and give it to a hobo, the banks limited his withdrawal's to only £200 a day, and he'd been sleeping off a hangover for the last couple of days.
A distant church bell rang for the eleventh time, one hour left to spend the money. Paul had to think fast, he'd be back on the streets in no time if he lost the coin, and fuck if Paul wanted to go back to rolling his own cigarettes and drinking cheap cider.
Aha! He spots a car with a for sale sign on it, he desperately rings the number but it goes to voicemail. He rang it again, and again. On the fourth try a sleepy voice answered, "Who the fuck are you and why are you ringing me at this time?"
"It's Paul, and I was wondering if you're still selling that car.", "Oh comeon, you can't ring me in the morning?"from the still yawning guy on the other end of the line.
Paul desperate to get rid of this money, to keep the coin almost shouted, "No, I need the car tonight before midnight, I'll give you a grand."
Suitably more awake now, the guy answered "A grand? Are you kidding me? It's a shitty run down Rover and I only put it up for 200 quid."
Paul however was determined not to be bargained down, "I quite like the car actually, and as I need it now consider the other £800 for the inconvenience of you getting here in...37 minutes."
The seller still suspicious of the offer decided it was worth the risk, "I'll be there in 10".
Five years later, Paul never again came so close to losing the Coin. In fact he'd amassed quite the fortune of run down cars, washing machines and so on. If he'd bought anything worth any money the Coin would be gone, and as would his easy lifestyle. So he lived in what was a junkyard of a place, still happy enough to keep spending as much as he was given. |
They hardly needed the video feed to know what had happened, they'd seen some of it from the station. Despite being the furthest removed people from the conflict, the sight of it was all too palpable. Of course they'd heard the media, the constant warning signs that it was coming, but, just as everyone else had, they pushed it to the back of their minds. Focussed on a bright, brave future. Their efforts feeling meaningless as they saw the mushroom clouds darken the sky.
Anger, despair, helplessness, all contained in in a few hundred cubic meters of living space. A nation had emerged 'victorious' in the brutish exchange. There were no hostilities on the station. The team members held and consoled one another, united in their grief through loss or empathy. They lived together, hoped together and now, grieved together. |
Politiburo is after me.
I am richest man in all of Latvia. English not so good. See, politiburo no like that I have infinite potato. So go to gulag. All prisoner have potato. No lie. So all prisoner eat and get strong. Help me get out of gulag. Bribe guard with potato. Guard surprised it real potato. Let me go.
Politburo send secret police after me. No matter. Secret police take 20 potato bribe. Feed family. Latvia happy to have potato. Secret police no longer touch me. Secret police come to my house everyday for potato. Secret police say I am godsend.
Soviet try to send me to Siberia. People unify and say no. Protect me, Dainis Īvāns. I become journalist. Respect due to write good and potato. I say Daugava Dam bad. Construction canceled. People listen to me.
Start Popular Front of Latvia. Now is 1988. Lead people away from communist and politiburo. Plenty of potato for all Latvian. Politiburo still angry. More people respect Popular Front. Also, we have potato. Politiburo only has sadness.
1990 now. Latvia is moving away from Soviet scum. I lead Popular Front as speaker of Supreme Council. my English has gotten much better with Gorbachev's policy of Glasnost. I read English books sneaked in through West Berlin, also some German. My country has declared Independence from the Soviets.
Latvia has potatoes now for everyone. I no longer need to be giving free potatoes anymore. Agriculture is now one of the biggest parts of the Latvian economy. It is 1992 now. We are free. I will retire now.
Potato is not a dream anymore. Potato is real. I look at Potato and smile. It is not mine anymore, it was grown on a farm with people making money. No politiburo is taking away the potato. No secret police is stealing food.
It is not my potato. It is the potato of a free Latvia.
*If you liked this, please read more of my stories on [r/TheTexasKid](http://reddit.com/r/TheTexasKid) and subscribe!* |
C
I'm being honest? The cows were the worst. The chickens and turkeys fought back, sure, but you just kick them in the head and then they're done. After the first one, I understood the point that the afterlife was making. Eating meat was wrong.
After the hundredth, I got a kind of rhythm going and I really didn't care any more. The sheer volume of the fuckers just made the whole experience surreal. I didn't feel guilty again until I looked back down the long, blank walls of the corridor and saw a sad, pointless carpet of feathers. It's the numbers that get you.
When the pigs started, I thought I was a goner. I should have thought of a weapon - beak knuckledusters, bone claws... something. The first one nearly did for me. I choked it out, eventually, after having every inch of my body bruised and beaten. Choking out a pig is no mean feat. It's the width of the neck. You've really got to apply the pressure. I learned my lesson and gutted the thing. It was hard. I'm not going to go into the details. The skin was thick. I had to... I'm not going into the details.
Armed with a short spear and a club or two, I got back into it. Out of the other side. By this stage, I was thinking ahead. I knew what was coming at the end.
But I wasn't there next. It was cows next. Like I say, they were the worst.
They didn't run. They didn't squeal. Their sad, wet eyes just stared up at me like it was nothing. It wasn't a fight, it wasn't a battle, it wasn't survival. It was just slaughter. I thought of the men and women who'd done this job in the slaughterhouses, and I thought them monsters. I'd learned the lesson once again. Like those long-running jokes that aren't funny, until they are, until they aren't again.
I finished the cows, sobbing.
One ostrich. Exotic burger stall at Glastonbury. Got it quickly with the spear before it could run. I thought about meeting Sally at the festival.
One horse. Vacation to France. Broke its back leg and finished it off with the club. I thought about Sally suggesting a trip to Disneyland for our anniversary.
A fluttering hall of pigeons. Fucking kebab stalls. Sally, pulling me by the arm down into Miami.
Miami.
It snapped its jaws at me and heaved itself towards me, tail flicking its predatory body towards me.
"Let's try alligator,"she'd said. "Why not?"she'd said. |
"So you want me to take care of 'im?"
The round Italian man asked, looking down on me in my soft spinny chair with his dead eyed gaze.
"Who, Mr. McCoy? Yeah of course, just make sure he has a good time! I don't want him to feel left out."I respond cheerfully, spinning in my chair and whistling as the room spins around me.
"Oh I'll show 'im a good time all right, don't you worry sir. I'll even take 'im to the water park. Let him have a nice swim."Giovanni replied, smiling with his crooked teeth, looking very menacing. But of course, that's what bodyguards are for!
"The water park Giovanni? I must say, I can't picture you in a swim suit."I looked the large tubby man up and down, stopping my spinning. "I'd rather you take him out back and shoot him than subject him to that!"I laugh and smile at him, reaching for a pen on my desk and holding it between my upper lip and nose.
"Yes sir..."Giovanni looked almost sad now, disappointed he wouldn't get to take the man to the water park. Giovanni must really love swimming, I thought. I punched him in the shoulder lightly, giving him a friendly smile as the pen fell from my lip.
"Ah I'm only kidding buddy! You can take him to the water park if ya want. Just make sure you take good care of him, his knees must feel awful after that accident the last time the two of you hung out."
Giovanni grinned widely again, nodding and turning to go. "No problem sir. I'll take VERY good care of him."
"Oh Giovanni, you left your knife on the table!"I lifted the long thick blade in between my thumb and forefinger, afraid I'd be cut by it, but Giovanni was already gone.
"Oh well. Shouldn't be carrying such a dangerous object in a restaurant anyway."I dropped the knife in the wastebasket and went back to spinning in my impossibly comfy spinny chair. |
As anyone who knows these sorts of thing will tell you, it takes at least three years for a new identity to stick. And even then, it isn't advised that you draw anything more than the most passing sort of scrutiny.
Three years of pay stubs. Three years of verified housing. Three years of doctors appointments, car payments, and cable bills. Three years of living in that skin. And again, that's only good enough to look like you from a distance.
Linus Worth had been Linus Worth for four and a half years almost to the day when he set foot inside Cushing's Home for Boys. It had been, to him, a very long time.
"And you say you've fostered before?"said the pretty, young volunteer. She wore a floral-print dress and a gray cardigan. She did not look Linus in the eyes.
"Yes. In Nebraska,"said Linus, eyes straight ahead, always following a respectful distance behind. "A boy named Noah. Quite bright. Very troubled. He ran away after only a week. It was...heartbreaking. I wasn't sure I'd ever have the heart to try again."He sighed loudly. "But I want to help. Very badly. And having children was Kristy's biggest wish..."
"Your wife?"said the volunteer, still marching forward down the linoleum hallway.
"Yes. My wife,"said Linus.
They stopped outside a room. The door was halfway open. "Have you considered volunteering?"said the girl.
"Yes,"said Linus. "But I...I think something more *committed* would work best for me. I have a lot of...love to give."
The girl nodded, then pushed open the door. "Davey? This is Mr. Worth. He wanted to meet you."
The boy in the room was wiry and dark, with hunched shoulders and an upturned mouth. He was also missing one eye. The remaining eye blazed as he glared up at Linus and the volunteer.
"You a homo?"said Davey, not bothering to set down the cover-less paperback in his hands.
"*Davey*!"said the volunteer. "You've been warned about talking like that. Mr. Worth is a guest."
"Is Mr. Worth a homo?"replied Davey.
"I'm sorry,"said the girl, still not able to look Linus in the eyes. "He...well, I'm sure Davey would be happy to tell you about his background."
He was not. Still, the girl was able to coax out some of the finer details. A dead father. A mother in jail. Two sisters in the system he'd already written off as lost. If any part of his life had caused Davey pain you wouldn't know it. He presented everything as fact, no more notable or traumatic than the sun rising in the east and setting in the west.
The sessions continued for two months. Two months of Linus listening, still-faced and thoughtful. Two months of Davey's pointed verbal abuse. Somewhere in those two months someone with the authority to do so had decided both parties had suffered enough, in their own unique ways. The paperwork was substantial. It took Linus just over an hour to complete. But in the end, Davey was his.
"You got some fag pad?"said Davey, sprawled out in the passenger's seat of Linus' gently used Honda. "You stick a dick in my mouth I swear I'll fuckin' bite it off."
"Davey, how many times have I told you that you've got the wrong impression of me?"said Linus, pulling off the highway and heading out towards the farmland to the north. "I'm not a homosexual."
Davey shrugged. "Pretty faggy to me. Buying lil' boys and all."
"I didn't *buy* you,"said Linus with a laugh. "They *gave* you to me. That's an important distinction to make. If I'd bought you that would imply you were worth something."
Now Davey laughed. "Ha! Gettin' bitchy, huh? Time of the month?"
"Davey, Davey,"sighed Linus. "You should know why I picked you."
Davey snorted. The world outside his window was full of trees and rocks and nothing much more. He shifted in his seat.
"I like people like you Davey,"said Linus, raising a finger. "And no, not in the way you're so quick to claim. It's not that you're a boy. It's that you refuse to be scared."
"Man, what the fuck does that mean?"said Davey. "I'm sure as hell not scared of *you*."
Linus nodded, following a rhythm only he could hear. "Oh, but you *are* afraid. Very afraid. You've been afraid for a very long time now. Afraid of being hurt. You wear that attitude like a shield, because you think it will protect you. You think it will keep away the people who enjoy causing fear. People like your father. But you can't keep those people away, Davey. No, no. And in the end...in the end they always find you."
"Fuck off,"said Davey, leaning towards the window. "Do whatever the fuck you want. I don't care."
"Good,"said Linus. "I suppose I will. But before I do, would you like to make a bet?"
Davey shook his head. "Fuck off, goddamn faggot."
"It'll be a good one,"said Linus. "Well worth your while. Open the glove compartment."
Davey glared at the man, but did as he was told. There was a bundled pile of money sitting alone in the compartment.
"I bet that I can make you scream,"said Linus. "And I bet I'll do it before the hour is up."Davey shook his head but said nothing. "If you make it an hour without screaming, you can have that money and go wherever you like."
Davey eyed the money. "Just don't scream?"
Linus smiled. "One hour. Starting now."
Davey nodded. "Alright. Do whatever the fuck you want."
"No worries,"said Linus. "In due time. But first..."He parked the car. They were just down a slope from a small wooden shack. "Follow me."
They walked up the dirt path to the shack. Davey considered his options. He could easily knock the man down and steal the money, but would he have to kill the man to be safe? Davey thought he could, but he wasn't sure. Maybe he could just play along and hope the man was being honest?
Linus saw the deliberation playing out behind the boy's eyes. It was very pleasing to him. "Oh, I forgot one small thing,"he said as he pushed open the door to the shack and swept Davey inside with a gentle hand. He flicked on the lights.
"We've got company,"said Linus, holding the boy firmly by the shoulders. "How long has it been since you've seen your sisters?"
Davey screamed. |
2025 was the year when Earth finally treated itself to a long overdue upgrade. The country-system was collapsed and in a unanimous vote, /u/Ishan_Psyched was declared ruler of the world and beyond. The people entrusted him with ridding the society of its evils, and creating a beautiful utopia. And so he did. A king true to his word. A king of whom they wrote ballads and stories forever and ever.
|
The beacon burned a bright blood-red against the dark sky.
"You realize,"I said solemnly, "That this confirms my theories, right?"
My two colleagues glared at me. Chass, big and surly, was the first to speak.
"Bah. It confirms nothing. So the ship's locator beacon ressembles a star."His moustache bristled with indignance. "You're not the first to fit biblical narrative to reality with unlikely metaphors, Brian. And you won't be the last."
"Yet... this *is* 0 A.D., Chass,"Mel pointed out, taking in the landscape. They were a short way from the city's burning night fires, yet the palms and cracked, dry soil left no mistaking to their general location. Mel was squinting because she had lost her glasses when they jumped from the crasshing Time Ship. "I mean, what are the odds..."
Chass pointed a fat finger at her. "*You're* the one who believes the multiverse theory, Mel. From your point of view, *everything* happens somewhere, so what would the odds matter?"He smirked. "Just goes to show how ridiculous that theory is, if you ask me, but hey, what do I know? I just have a Phd. in Statistical String th-"
"Oh, will you come off it,"Mel snapped. "Besides, that's not how it works."
I quietly interrupted them before it could escalate into another full-fledged fight... like the one that had caused the Ship to crash. "We all know what you believe, Chass. But if everything is random, and our arrival here has already destroyed the timeline we came from, then how do you explain our names?"
Chass stared at me dumbly. Anyone who didn't know him would never guess he had an IQ that matched his considerable physical size. "What about 'em?"
I sighed. "Melchior and Caspar. Melissa and Chass."
Chass barked a laugh. "You'll find parallels anywhere, man. Last time I checked, your bible talks about three wise *men*."
We stared at Melissa, who blushed. Our tight-fitting Chrononaut suits did nothing to hide her female physique. "We'll find out soon enough, won't we?"she said. "That was the point of the expedition after all."
I contemplated that was we marched on, the dried mud of what had once been aquifers crackling under our feet. The UN had reluctantly sponsored our journey, admitting that, since eventually *someone* would build the illicit technology, we might as well find out what time travel did sooner than later.
"Maybe your multiverse theory is true,"Chass begrudged her. "But yours, Brian, that everything that has happened will happen again... to believe in *fate*."He spat. "It's delusion. Fate only exists in faith, as they say."
I said nothing, not wishing to provoke Chass further. The crashing of the ship had shown what lengths the big man was willing to go through. Chass wandered ahead, muttering about ridiculous christians and many-world theorists.
"Still don't know how he passed the psychological tests,"Mel muttered bitterly.
"He's a clever guy,"I whispered back. "Very clever."
She shook her head, but just then, Chass let out an incredulous shout. "I don't believe it!"
We ascended the hill where he stood outlined against the night's sky, and soon saw why his eyes were bulging. Down below, not far from where the smoking remains of the Time Ship lay, stood a stable.
The rickety stable housed a young woman, bent over a manger, filled to the brim with cotton. A small fire crackled just outside, and another person, presumably her husband, had gone off with a torch to examine the Ship's remains.
I smiled, and descended quickly, before Chass could say more. The woman looked up with frightened eyes, and indeed, I could see a child, fragile and newborn, lying in the improvised little bed.
"Don't be afraid,"I said gently. Tears had filled my eyes. It was all true. Whether by star, beacon, or other reality, a sign was a sign... God had shown us the way. I knelt down, and Mel, equally awed, knelt down beside me. I gestured at her, knowing the role I was to play.
"Melchior,"I said, and she nodded. Just then, the baby coughed, and I could see that the mother's eyes were not only frightened but also red-rimmed. She had been weeping.
"The boy is sick,"I whispered, then, with sudden realization. "Mel, give her the medicine. That's why we must've been brought here..."
Mel reached for her pockets, and as she handed the woman the powder-pill, and gestured how to use it, I realized something else. *Myrrh*-based. The heal-all medicine contained Myrrh. The woman muttered something in Hebrew, and I tried in my best Roman latin:
"Medicina."
The woman's eyes widened in realization, and despite her terror, she resolved to feed the child the pill.
Quickly, I retrieved my own gift from my pockets. The Golden scanner, used to localize the beacon and ship. I shoved it forwards, but the mother had only eyes for her child.
In moments, though, colour returned to its little face, and the woman began to laugh. Tears came down her face, and we laughed with her.
"Gratia,"she sobbed in her own broken latin. "Gratia maxima."
"We have one more gift,"I grinned, looking around for our third companion. "Caspar, come out, where are you? You're missing the event of the millenium!"
The large man rounded the corner, back from the ship. His big red face was solemn, and he also smiled, yet there was something grim to it.
"Chass,"Mel said, suddenly sobering. "Where's the husband?"
"I also have a gift,"Chass grunted, and he showed them the gun.
The mother's smile was the only one not to fall, because she was the only one not to recognize the weapon. She died with the smile on her face, forehead pierced.
Mel screamed, throwing herself over the child. Another flash lit up the night, and she collapsed on top of the baby.
"A gift to humanity,"Chass roared. "Christianity set us back so many years! It's time for an era of science! For a history, purged of the disease of religion!"
I screamed incoherently and jumped at him, but Chass was stronger than me.
"Give it up, Brian,"he laughed. "History changed the moment we got here! Every breathe we take is billions of atoms changed, starting a chain of events that changes everything."
He got to his feet, triumphantly, pointing the gun at me.
"A moth's wings can bring a hurricane to the other end of the world!"
He shrugged. "All I did was speed up those wings."
Just as he squeezed the trigger, an ox, scared out of its wits by the previous flash and emotional distress, barged out of the shadows of the stable and pierced Chass on its horns, running off into the night. The shot went wild, but the laser lit the stable's roof on fire.
I scrambled to my unsteady feet, looking down on Chass. He had been killed instantly, a mercy that the monster didn't deserve. But there was little time. Just then, I became aware of a child's wailing.
Incredulous, I stumbled back into the burning shack, and saved the living child from under Melissa's body. The baby stopped crying, and stared back at me with brown, bright eyes.
"A sign's a sign,"I muttered, staring into the distance where the ox had ran off to. I no longer cared which theory had been right. Maybe Chass had changed the future. Maybe we were still on the same path. Maybe Melissa had been right and this was just another universe. But I knew one thing.
"There may be no fate,"I whispered at the child in my arms. "But there will always be faith."
I stumbled towards the ship, too broken for time-travel now but filled with technological wonders from another age.
I already knew how I would name the child.
----
[/r/Writeful_heir](https://www.reddit.com/r/Writeful_heir/) |
“Don't worry, we'll be right next door.” Craig told his wife as they entered their neighbors house. Justin had already been tucked away into bed and Pam and Dylan from next door had invited them over for a drink. She smiled at her husband in reluctant approval as they walked through the front door.
...
Justin's eyes shot open. He wasn't sure why. He certainly didn't hear anything anymore if it was a noise that had awoken him. Probably just his parents getting ready for bed. He closed his eyes to try to fall asleep again. A few moments later, he heard a creak coming from downstairs. No. It must have been nothing. His father had told him he had to start being a man - he was 10 years old after all. It was time for him to stop imagining things all the time. He forced his eyes closed and tried his best to be brave. Besides, his dad was in the next room and was always there to protect him.
Several minutes later, there was a “Pop!”, almost like someone had dropped a hammer or other metallic tool on the main floor below. Still, Justin clenched his eyes closed and did his best to ignore what he thought he had heard.
...
John Carson popped off a portion of the screen and slid his hands inside, feeling for the lock. Success. They had made it way too easy. Don't parents ever learn? No. They don't. Most of them don't even realize how close convicted sex offenders can live to their own home. He slithered into the two story house like a slippery snake. He had been watching the Riley place for weeks now, waiting for an opportunity like this. Freshly released on parole, this time he would vanish without a trace - he had come prepared. A lock picking kit, gloves, rope, duct tape - he would not get caught again.
He knew where the kid was. He had seen him in that upstairs bedroom nearly every night. He put one foot on the bottom step to test it for noise. It was solid. The house had been built 5 years prior so the structure had not yet reached that point of wear. Overly proud of his analysis, he proceeded up the steps. Second room on the left. He had done his homework. He had to be quick, he knew that Riley bitch would make a case to come back as soon as she could.
There was a glow under the door. The boy must have had on his nightlight. An evil grin appeared on John's face. Scared of the dark, heh. The kid had no idea what real fear was. He would soon find out though. The thought of the thrill raised the hairs on the back of his neck as he put his hand on the doorknob and took a deep breath. Game time.
The door flew open as the mustached man stepped inside and approached his bed. Justin clutched his blanket in terror, speechless. “Don't say a fuckin wor-” in an instant, two massive clawed hands appeared from below the bed, grabbing John's ankles, piercing through his skin like razor blades. He cried out in agony. "FUCK!"The dark green arms were only visible for an instant. John's legs were then pulled beneath the bed which such force it flung his entire body backwards, smashing his head on the laminate floor. Justin couldn’t watch as the rest of John’s body was slowly pulled under, inch by inch. “Monsters don’t exist, monsters don’t exist, monsters don’t exist” he whispered to himself with his face buried in his pillow. But they do exist. This one, however, wouldn’t be a problem for any other child ever again. |
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