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timestamp[ns]date 2012-08-08 08:06:24
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[WP] At the age of 18 you are permitted to redistribute your twenty skill points around into whatever skills you want permanently. You decided to put everything into LUCK and leave the rest at 0 points.
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"That's not a good idea, Ben. For one, we don't have great data on the actual effects of enhanced Luck..."
"Look, can you do it or not? I need this."
The gene tech sighed in the quiet office and swiveled his chair back to the computer. He was looking at a fairly standard representation of a human genome, red highlights in the mass of blue to indicate genes with likely altered function from human baseline and green to indicate potential areas for change.
"Let's see, we have some modifiable options at rs2981205, rs730882133, rs423454-"
"Yeah, man, I get it, lots of fancy words. Bottom line it for me?" Ben shifted impatiently in his chair; flipping his phone from hand to hand.
"Based on population-level studies and retrospective analysis of lottery winners, survivors of freak accidents, etc, there's about 20 genes we could modify in you to try to make you luckier. I'm obligated to point out that we don't know for sure that these genes actually *cause* better luck, and frankly the latest research is casting some doubts on the validity-"
"Yeah, yeah, I signed the waiver already, do what you got to do; I have a lot riding on this."
"Um, you already made the bet? And you want to get lucky now?"
"Not exactly, I don't really want to explain."
"Whatever, they're your genes. Sign this form here, some more standard stuff. Given the specific genes we need to modify, you are looking at 85% chance for significant loss in strength, 90% chance for loss in fine and gross motor skills, 100% for loss in intelligence, 60% chance for loss in overall body aesthetic and symmetry, and 50% chance for loss in short and long term memory."
Ben, took the tablet, skimming over most of the form. When he had scrolled to the bottom, he pressed his finger on the fingerprint scanner, acknowledging his agreement. He let his shoulders relax afterwards, like a weight had been lifted off.
"Ok then" he said to himself in a quieter voice; "that's settled."
"Not quite, Ben. Given the severity of potential deficits you are required to provide a sperm sample on the chance that you would prefer to have unaltered children in the future. Furthermore, while we strongly suggest implantable birth control for all men and women that undergo elective alteration, per the 2024 SAFEGene act, prior to sexual intercourse with any potentially fertile partners, you both must be screened for possible gene incompatibility."
"Yeah, everyone knows the rules."
"OK, here's your sample cup; I'll give you some time to provide the sample and I'll get the CRISPR transfer virus ready."
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
Ben rolled up his sleeve, exposing a slightly faded tattoo; a simple heart motif with the name "Jess" on it.
"Just a slight poke, then you'll be all set. This is your last chance to change your mind..."
"Get it over with."
"OK"
The tech injected Ben's left deltoid with the modified viral delivery system. Over the next 48 hours, the virus, a modified version of the flu, would infect the vast majority of his cells and re-write all of his DNA.
"It's done. Now, you'll probably have some soreness, fatigue, and a fever for the next couple days, similar to flu symptoms. This virus isn't contagious, but to be safe, you need to avoid the very young and the elderly. Take tylenol if the fever or pain get bad. If you have difficulty breathing, pass out, or anything like that, get to a hospital immediately."
"Got it. Thanks, doc."
"Good luck."
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
Two months later, Ben's life, as far as any outsider was concerned, was pretty much unchanged. He'd had to quit his job as a barista; it was a bit too fast paced for him with his new weakness and difficultly remembering simple tasks. He'd found a perfect job, working at one of the few private libraries remaining in Baltimore. He'd only get one or two customers a day and they were usually older; if anything, Ben found himself getting along better with them than people his own age; the elderly clients seemed to talk and move at the pace he was accustomed to these days.
He settled in well to his new life; he was more lonely than he had been, but that suited him well. He had a new companion, in the form of a stray he named Tipsy, that had wandered up to his feet when he was getting back to his apartment one night. She only had three paws and occasionally fell over, but they were fast friends.
All in all, his life was stable, boring; an easy sort of anguish. And every day, as he left the library, sometimes with Tipsy peeking out of his backpack along with a few children's books; the short ones with the easier words, he would take the 57 bus and transfer to the 23 to get to the long term care facility. There he would take the elevator to the fourth floor, his legs a bit too weak for the stairs, and sit next to Jess, who was perpetually silent except for the occasional hiss and beep of the ventilator, and read to her. Often, he would fall asleep in the chair next to her, dreaming that perhaps tomorrow would be his lucky day, and he would get to talk to her again.
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So all of you are ridiculous, amazing people. Thank you for reading and for sharing your thoughts and feedback about the story! Definitely a deeply motivating experience to write more in the future.
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Diploma in hand, Soren Cerrar marched excitedly to the Town Hall. Long ago he had thrown points at stats at random and today he would mend so many grievous errors. He had been eighteen for weeks but only today had the GED come in the mail. It had taken him half a dozen tries to pass. Today was the day!
Fiddling in his pocket with his free hand he retrieved his pen and his wallet. A frown replaced his smile when he found the waiting room full and the customer ticketing system was half a dozen numbers smaller than that of his stub. Soren sat and idly cleaned his spectacle lenses.
What seemed like hours went by. Soren again checked his person to ensure he had everything required: Photo ID, Birth Certificate, Social Security Card, $55.48 for the change-of-name fee, and a pen to sign the forms. That pen was beginning to leak ink - not just any but *red* ink - all over his faded jeans.
Because he was still running a heavy magic-wielder build his intelligence was high enough to plan ahead. He had spent the remaining two hundred dollars in his account earlier in the day in anticipation. He patted the envelop once more to ensure he still had it. Soon worry would no longer be necessary, he just knew it. But as the afternoon dragged on those fifteen points of wisdom began to haunt him. *What if it doesn't work? Can I make up the difference?*
"Now serving ticket 12," bleating the maladjusted speaker. A solid minute went by as everyone in the lobby stayed still. "Now serving ticket 13."
Soren shot to his feet and bumped the coffee table with a knee. He limped down the hall looking at the digital number displays above each office door. "What can I do for you today?" The bland voice droned.
"Hi. Yes I would like to reroll. Name, stats, the works."
The clerk frowned. "you will need..."
Soren plopped the documentation and necessary identification before the clerk.
"...well you seem quite prepared." The clerk folded his hands on his lap. "Understand this Mr. Cerrar that this is *permanent*. You cannot undo this tomorrow and it will cost more if you change your mind. If you agree to the terms please sign on the line at the bottom of the pages I have marked."
And with that Soren Cerrar became Chance Spuersinn. He took his temporary ID and looked it over. The clerk had forgotten to place an expiration date!
With business concluded, Soren-now-Chance collected his things and left. Excited to test his newly acquired luck, he withdrew the envelope and pulled out the scratch cards.
The small cards were all winners as expected. They promised a tidy sum well above the collective cost of the tickets. The lottery card would require him to wait out the night for the announcement. Chance chose a hotel across the street from the Lottery district office.
*Oh baby*, he thought *I'll head back to the gas station and cash in. I've got some celebrating to do tonight!*
That evening over a six-pack of beer (each can earned him a nominal prize from some contest) he waited for the lottery reveal. Immediately his heart sank. From the first number on the ticket was a loser. In fact, not a single number matched anything on his card, not even out-of-order! Had he made a mistake dumping his stats?
How then could he get lucky with everything else so far? The overbooked hotel had upgraded his room, the beer contest, the scratch tickets, the forgotten expiration date...perfect luck on every other attempt...so how had this failed?
Chance mumbled to himself as he headed to the bathroom. *If the only luck I have is marginal then this was a terrible mistake*, he thought aloud. It was a bust! *Anger will do me no good. I'll pour a bath and think things through. I should have won at least a little bit!*
Ten minutes into the soak the entire building shook. The lights flickered a moment then went dark.Chance climbed out of the tub, inadvertently dodging a chunk of falling masonry from overhead. He glanced back at the tub. *Is this good luck or bad luck?*
Wondering what had happened Chance pulled back the curtains. The entire field of view was devoid of electricity. Neither a street light nor store window glowed. Then his eyes saw it. Where the District Office had been was nothing more than a sinkhole which had swallowed the building completely.
He stumbled back. Sirens in the distance shook Chance back to the present and he realized someone was calling for help...*from the bathroom?*
Chance threw on a robe and peered back into the bathroom. Beyond the fallen wall he saw that the next room over was also in disarray. And from the rubble he heard the cry once more.
He struggled to heave each new thing off of the pile of rubble. Some of it was building material. Some appeared to be from a storage closet. Still more was from the shared wall and ceiling of their suites.
The cries had stopped almost as soon as he began clearing the debris. It spurred him on. Desperation replaced strength. Panic replaced Desperation. *I have to try* his mind repeated like mantra, *I have to save this person. I have perfect luck. Its why I am here. In this place. At this time. I Will save this person.*
The figure was covered in drywall dust. Chance looked the around for evidence of blood or injury and then felt for a pulse. Faint, but present. The chest rose. "Can you hear me? Are you okay?"
And then her eyes met his.
| 2016-03-20T18:03:10
| 2016-03-20T17:44:30
| 5,598
| 169
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[WP] Write the letter that you always wanted to, but never did.
Most of the writing prompts I see on here are for fictional stories, but this is only one small corner of the larger art of writing. In this prompt, I'd like you to consider writing something a little more personal, and in a form that you might not have otherwise considered... Letters.
Perhaps you'd like to write a letter confessing your love to a long forgotten crush? A letter to your boss telling them exactly what you think of them? A letter to your school bully? Maybe a letter to your childhood hero telling them how much you were inspired by their career?
Be creative, be inventive, but most of all - be expressive. :D
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Dear Natalie.
So here I am. Funny how things work, right? Never thought I'd end up penning this letter, but I guess something prompted me to do it.
I know. I've known ever since it happened what your real motivations were, and you never had me fooled for a second. After you apologized, and said that you were just messing around and didn't mean anything by what do guys did, I knew that was bullshit. I looked you right in the eyes and I didn't want to look away, I saw exactly what you were thinking, because I was thinking it too.
Don't treat me like I'm naive, I never was even in my deepest innocence. I haven't forgiven you and I don't think I ever will, I trusted you. I didn't know Dave, but I fucking trusted you. I love you to pieces, but you betrayed me in a way no one ever has, and now no one ever can again.
You know what it felt like, lying on that couch, feeling an empty void in my stomach sucking away everything. I felt unclean, I felt violated.
I was violated.
You did it. You both did it. I've never felt so emasculated, so small. I tower over both of you, I exercise, I work out, I play rugby. I try to embody the ideal man, but I didn't do anything, I was locked in my own body, bound with shock. I felt worthless afterwards.
Some sickening part of me hopes that you two stay together, despite the shit he's done to you, and despite the pain you've caused me, and despite how much I care for you. I want you to explain to your kids that the day mommy and daddy got together they did something dark and terrible. I want to be your fucking family secret.
Because then I'll have something. Anything. Other than a story to share with strangers while I talk away my problems. Other than that thing that was "oh so me". Something to go with the whole "hopeless romantic" thing I have going. Something to hold on to at night.
With all the love that I can muster and more, your friend, Redrum.
|
Hey cous,
It's been what 2 years now? Almost 3? Ahaha. I hope you're happy where ever you ended up. I miss you and the family misses you. I wish you could see how big the kids have gotten. Not to brag or anything but I'm the favorite uncle, ahaha. Though... I don't think I could top how much love and genuine affection you've shown them when you were here. I don't know how to say some of the things I've been holding onto or even what to say. I've never been good with expressing myself. I can't even words sometimes, most of the times. :P
Anyways,
I'm sorry for how things went down aye. It was a total shit show when you left but I tried. I tried keeping everyone together, I really did. It wasn't the greatest send off and there were so many things I wanted to do "right" but life. I know how watching everyone act the way they did must have broken your heart but we both know they're all good people. They just don't know how to act sometimes ahaha, old country aye? Your brothers miss you and, as much as you two argued, so does your sister. Your mom and dad are well, they're still batshit crazy ahaha and so are the rest of the oldies.
To be honest though, I'm still coping.
I was always taking care of all of us when we were younger, *sigh* remember the fights I would get into because of you brats? Those really were good times... Anyways, I'm gonna go now. I've written this with nowhere to send it.
Miss you forever, J.I
| 2015-12-05T14:43:55
| 2015-12-05T13:45:57
| 26
| 15
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[WP] SETI receives a transmission from intelligent life. After some deciphering, the message reads, "Keep quiet or they'll find you!"
The message was clearly sent from elsewhere in our universe, from outside of our solar system.
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The dusty screen flashed to life.
We had begun to wonder if it was useless. A waste, billions of dollars down the drain. We started to think of ourselves as alone again. Or at least, too far away to matter.
But, then the ones and zeros poured in. Not a long signal, but enough to send us reeling. Some thought it was a joke. A mistake. A random signal sent from some far off star. We had to be sure. SETI hadn't picked up anything in years, so anything was worth working towards.
We sent for decipherers and decoders. Linguists and brainiacs came pouring in from around the country, just to look at these 26 lines of code. It took months on end of these scholars poking and prodding, finding some way to break it into something understandable. We, once again, thought our hopes were dashed.
But then, we broke through. Through some amalgamation of math and language, we put it into English. Our hearts were racing as our eyes scanned the page for the first time.
And God, I wish we hadn't.
"Keep quiet, or they'll find you"
That's all our billions earned us. Many didn't believe that we were correct. "It must be some flaw with translation" they said. But, us remaining minority that cared wouldn't listen.
We sent back, using the cipher we worked so hard to uncover. We sent back literary works, art, music, and, most importantly, questions. How had they found out about us? Who was it that we should be afraid of? We waited with bated breath as our message was sent in the direction it was received.
It took days that felt like millennia, but eventually, our far-off-friend responded.
"No time. Silence."
We were baffled. What were they so afraid of? Why did we need to fear?
We had only begun to question these, when the second signal came. A little different, a little stronger, a little louder.
"Have fear. We come."
|
Elisa hurries through the hall, shedding papers from the heavy stack in her arms. Without knocking, she bursts into Fred Turek's office, and spreads the papers across his desk. "It's a message."
"I hear that once a week. One of you gets your undies in a bundle over a little blip in data," he replies, shaking his head. "We often see patterns were there are none. It's like watching the clouds and thinking you see a dog. Or seeing Jesus' face imprinted on your toast."
"This is real, Fred."
"Dr. Turek to you."
"I've shown it to Mark, Gabe, and Alyssa, and they all agree -- there's something here, Fr-- Dr. Turek."
"Well, then, what do they think it says? 'Hello, dear Earthlings'? 'May I borrow some sugar'? 'We want to serve man'?" Fred says, sipping his coffee and scrunching his face at the bitterness.
"They think," Elisa says, in a wavering voice, "it says 'Keep quiet, or they'll find you.'"
Fred's eyes widen for a moment, and his face goes pale. "You say Mark, Gabe, and Alyssa all agree that there's a pattern, and that's what it says?"
"Yes. They all came to that conclusion independently."
Fred taps his fingers on the table nervously. "Tell them I'll meet with them in a half hour." He gestures for her to leave; the door clicks shut behind her. He picks up the phone, sweaty fingers slipping over the numbers, and says into the receiver: "We're in grave danger." Silence. "We received a transmission: 'Keep quiet, or they'll find you.'" Pause. "Well, you know we're in danger when damn aliens are warning us!" A sigh. "Yes -- notify them all." Click.
Meanwhile, Elisa stares at the monitor, eyes glazed over. The jagged dip of the graph, its irregular curve, and scattered flatlines all read like a death sentence. Every pixel is familiar to her; she's stared at it for hours, now. As a lowly intern, she initially didn't know what it meant, until the other three deciphered it for her; but she instinctively feared it. The tingling in her arms and legs intensifies; the world reels around her. "We're dead. We're all as good as dead."
The door bursts open. Mark, the experienced decipherer, paces in. "Elisa, we got another transmission."
Faint overcomes her; she can barely think straight. "What? What did it say?" she asks, breath catching in her throat.
"I don't think the message was intended for us, Elisa."
"What do you mean?"
"The second message says," Mark says, his voice wavering with fear, "'If you don't keep quiet, they'll find you. Earth will find you!'"
| 2014-10-03T12:03:07
| 2014-10-03T11:59:23
| 46
| 32
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[WP] Legends of Dragons "Breathing Fire" are actually referring to their incredible rap prowess.
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Bodies were strewn about the streets of the village.
Mothers were weeping as their sons lost all street credibility
The Great winged beast they called 'Drake' sat atop the castle, bumping the new 2ChainMailz just waiting for a fuckboy to step in for battle.
I was at the shitting hole when i first heard the beat drop.
It was a quiet summers eve and the town was easing into the night to rest.
As the last bell struck 8, it echoed and and transitioned into a nasty bass drop followed by a hi-hat flourish and a disembodied, otherworldly voice that proclaimed "Ooooh it's Smaug on the track."
And then Suddenly
**Hear yee, hear yee, all the village folk fear me// I'm only here to spit a thousand year long tyranny**
**Immortal i am, but the lifestyles a hassle// I'll only be defeated by an epic rap battle**
**I heard of one among you worthy of fame//So i'm pillaging ya village with a lyrical flame**
**Tell em he can get it with these hellishly hot flows// I named drop hoes: FUCK SAVANT LEGATO**
Oh *heeeeeel* naw
I Put on my robe and wizard hat and stepped out side
And with a rebel yell i proclaim:
**Say what you want about my village, but don't disrespect my steez boi.**
EDIT: I stopped there because i've never written a prompt and aren't too confident in my formatting skills.
EDIT2: Not too bad, so here i go.
Drake turned towards me with a gleaming wicked smile and i heard his voice deep within my soul:
*So, you finally decided to meet your daddy in person eh?*
damn, good one
*Well i'm waiting.. whenver you're ready to get roa-*
**Boi Shut cho ass up cause you killin my vibe// Stealin my shine when i'm the illest villian alive**
**Chiller than ice, but i'm still willin to fry// Any little dick lizzard in the hood i reside**
**Look in the eyes of rappers as i eat em alive//Leave em to die, laughing like a thief in the night**
**You thinkin you fly buddy but im clippin ya wings//Takin ya hoes and showing em some different things**
**Im taking you down clown, cuz ya life is a joke//Ima roll you up and burn you like the kush that i smoke**
**The shit i invoke is magical, go get merlin// bitch i rap around ya head, i aint talkin bout turbans**
**but you know im hella Sikh, please call me a medic//Better dip the fuck out or you're gonna regret it**
...
after a moment, i realized i was surrounded by wenches.
Drake simply sat there with shock in his eyes
**I..** he stammered
**You WHAT!?!** i yelled back
**I rip and i rhyme//I rhyme and i rip// Cause this da way da dragon spit**
A tremendous chorus of 'Boooos' permeated throughout the village, much like B-rabbits first battle
**The people have spoken!** I yelled **You have been thoroughly roasted!**
and with that, the winged demon drake burned away atop the castle and i rolled his ashes in a fat blunt.
the end
|
The portly group of knights dismounted before the cave
Twelve heroes in all, well trained; nary a knave
The dragon within had terrorized these lands
But these knights came prepared, with rhymes in hand
They belted out stanzas, cantatas, and scores
Arrangements, verses, setups, and more
They each shouted rhymes to entice the beast from within
To dare show its hide and be slain like its kin
Their efforts taxed and strained them all day
Until Gallahad exclaimed, “The beast comes, make way!”
Towering above them the scaled creature snorted
While the knights arranged ranks, as Arthur exhorted
They were preparing for any rhyme it could derive
But with a wall of fire, it cooked them alive
They should have asked for directions from Merlin the wizard
For they had spit fire at what was really the wrong lizard
| 2016-04-07T09:12:48
| 2016-04-07T08:47:11
| 102
| 24
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[WP]You receive a message, "Reply Yes if you can survive the last video game you played." You answer Yes. Your vision blanks and you open your eyes finding that you are at the beginning of said game. You hear a voice "To leave you must win. Your prize is all you gain in this world. Good luck"
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*Reply yes if you can survive the last video game you played.*
Fuck.
He’d thought it a prank at first. Hell, who wouldn’t? Two in the morning, his brains were running on fumes after scrambling to finish an essay for the next morning’s class… and just when he had collapsed into his bed he saw the message.
He was a bit delirious from sleep deprivation, but he still did try to think about it. What was the last thing he’d played…? It had been… shit, he couldn’t recall, but he knew it had been something calming, with a group of friends to relax before doing his essay. Either way, he chuckled and hit yes, still thinking it a prank message from a friend, before sleep took him.
It felt like he’d only slept for a few minutes, but of course, that’s what it always felt like. He sighed as he slowly felt himself wake, and he turned over, wanting a few more moments of sleep. He then frowned, his bed feeling much too rough beneath him.
He opened his eyes and saw grass. It took his brain several seconds to process, but he slowly got up, a yawn forcing itself out of his mouth as he took in his surroundings. Trees, grass, an ocean, and in the distance mountains. The sun was in the middle of the sky, telling him it was noon. He slowly got up, and panic set in. Where was he?! What the hell was going on?!
There was no sign of civilization anywhere! There was just endless, endless nature!
He took a breath, clenching his fists. Okay… okay, okay, okay. Calm down. Nothing will get done if you don’t calm down. He licked his lips and began walking, looking for something, anything, to give him a sign of what was going on. Thankfully he was still wearing his clothes, having not changed out of them the night before.
After a few minutes of walking he found a cave leading deep into the earth, the sunlight filtering through the trees not able to illuminate the depths. What gave him hope, however, was the chest next to a tree nearby the cave. He scrambled to open it, hoping to find something to either aid or tell him what the hell was going on.
The only things within were a crude wooden axe, a similarly shoddy pickaxe, a brown backpack, and several sticks with cloth tied to one end, with sprinkles of black dust upon the cloth. Torches?
Unbidden, his mind flashed back to the text message he’d received. Was that...? No, it couldn’t be real… but…
Now fully awake, he could recall what game he’d last played. Normally it would have been something exciting, an RPG, maybe a shooter… no, his friends had gotten him to play a dumb survival game… but with several mods and shaders to make it hyperrealistic.
A groan echoed from the cave, and he slowly turned to see a dead man exit. Green, rotting flesh that hung from cracked and putrid bones, lifeless, maggot filled eyes gazed at him, grey matter peeking from holes in his skull. The dead man shuffled forward, trying its best to avoid the sunlight that reached through the tree branches, reaching out to him while gurgling. He swallowed hard, shaking in his boots as he grabbed the axe, readying it.
His friends had gotten him to play goddamn Minecraft.
The zombie accidentally moved into a ray of light, and groaned as it was lit on fire. He took the opportunity, yelling as he brought the axe down. One of the zombie’s arms was removed with a shower of blood and gore, thought it took more force than he’d thought it would and had to swing again, and it stumbled back, falling fully into the sunlight where it baked alive.
He breathed heavily as he watched, hands slipping slightly on the axe handle as he began to sweat. This was… fuck. He suddenly jerked and gasped as something began whispering on the inside of
his brain.
*“To leave you must win. Your prize is all you gain in this world. Good luck.”*
He began shaking. The hell… was this just some kind of sick game to that voice or what?! He turned back to the cave as more growls sounded out, though thankfully they seemed to be further in, and not approaching. He licked his lips once more, turning back to the chest that held the few meager supplies he’d found. If it was a game to that voice… fuck, it didn’t matter. He just needed to survive, who cared if that thing was getting some sick enjoyment from it.
He shouldered the backpack, stuffed the torches into it, and grabbed the pickaxe. Alright… what the hell did he do first? Secure water, food, and shelter. His eyes drifted to the cave. Preferably before sundown. He swallowed, before walking away from the death trap that was the cave. Better get some better gear before risking that. He was going to survive… that reward sounded fantastic, he remembered finding diamonds and gold when he’d played with his friends the day before… but none of that would matter if he couldn’t survive the harsh trials that would be coming.
High above, the sun began to set…
()()() ()()() ()()() ()()() ()()() ()()() ()()() ()()() ()()() ()()()
This was a really fun prompt! I might make this into a short series on my Fanfiction account, and if I do I’ll credit you for the idea!
|
*Beagle's journal - Day 1*
I couldn't believe it at first—I refused to—but as the day wore on, as the sun warmed by body and the pain of hunger quickly became real, I had to accept my new reality.
This world. This beautiful, vast, dangerous world. I've visited it enough to know it well from a bird's eye view, but never long enough to say I'd conquered it—never had my colony actually survived.
The road is long, it will take years by in-game time to achieve the final goal, and one thought has followed me like death since I arrived here: who's deciding the events and what difficulty are they set to?
____
*Beagle's journal - Day 5*
As with the standard starting scenario, I've spawned with two fellow colony members. Bear is a massive fellow who seems comfortable with a rifle in hand, and he successfully defended our camp from two manic rats that seemed hell bent on devouring us all; though, it's become apparent that he has an unhealthy obsession with setting things on fire. I'll need to keep my eye on him.
My second companion goes by Greenly, and her skills with plants, preparing food, and training animals will be essential to our survival. I find her quite attractive, and I'm not sure how that makes me feel. Are these people real? Or are they simply pawns in this game I've been sucked into?
I've managed to build us a shelter using the wood Greenly provided by felling trees, and Bear assisted by digging into the mountain side. With a natural wall of granite at our backs, I feel that we will be safe from any threat.
Though it's still summer, the air is cooling fast, and in a few short months I believe these woods will be thick with snow. Our primary goal is to harvest enough rice to last the winter, and we'll need electricity to properly store it and, more crucially, to stay warm. Funny enough, when Bear isn't chewing up granite or shooting rabid animals, he's hunched over the crude research table figuring out how to propel us forward technologically—I just hope he doesn't set his notes on fire.
Everyone is getting testy with one another, but I'm nearly finished building a dining table and three chairs. I think having a proper place to eat will drastically improve our moods.
We had a cat, Morpheus. He was eaten by a wolf.
____
*Beagle's journal - Day 27*
An attack on our fort has left Bear a bit bloodied, but he'll survive. It turns out Greenly is well versed in medicine, which makes her all the more attractive to me. She mentioned the possibility of amputating Bear's injured leg and replacing it with a more efficient prosthetic, but noted that she lacks the skill and tools. The thought made me uneasy, I hope she doesn't bring it up again.
The attacker was a wild, nude women, and she managed to bite a decent bit out of Bear's calf. She used the boulders and trees as cover until she was within biting range, so I've begun clearing the area in front of our defensive point of debris. Bear gave her a couple of hits to the head with the butt of his rifle, knocking her unconscious, and I built a makeshift prison near our stockpile. I don't think she's worth the extra resources, but Greenly insists that if we nurse her back to health, she might have something to offer us as a colony. I trust her judgement.
Winter is nearly here, and we've managed a decent stockpile of rice. I've built electrical lines through the main lodge, but I'll have to wait until Bear is back up on his feet to continue; none of us can dig the steel from the mountain like he can. Once he's back at it, I'll have a few heaters going to keep warm.
_____
*Beagle's journal - Day 34*
Snow. It's falling silent and beautiful tonight, and with it comes the constant threat of death. The temperature has fallen dramatically, but we've prepared well.
With my heaters placed strategically throughout the fort, we're more than comfortable so long as we're not working out in the machine shop—I still don't have the steel to run lines out that far.
Our prisoner, Meica, has turned ally, and she's proven immediately useful. She has a knack for crafting clothing, using most of the hide we gathered early on from wild animals to fit us all with cozy parkas and beanies. I was right to trust Greenly, our strength grows with our numbers.
She and I have taken to playing chess for an hour before bed each night, and it's come to be my favorite part of the day. I built us two wolf-hide chairs to rest in as we play, and she joked that bits of Morpheus must be mixed into the cushions. She's got a dark sense of humor—I like that.
No chess tonight, though. We watched Bear and Meica build a snowman outside, nestled close together by a fire, comfy in our winter attire.
The granite wall I've been constructing around the compound is finished—double the thickness of our lodge's walls—and I feel safe inside with my friends.
It's nights like these that get me thinking... Maybe I don't need to win? Maybe I could stay here forever...
___
/r/BeagleTales
| 2020-02-16T20:40:09
| 2020-02-16T17:51:33
| 85
| 59
|
[WP] The mail room for a large government building receives an envelope of glitter. The staff recognizes it as a common prank and resumes work. Over the next week, they notice the glitter is not going away, and seems to be spreading. You are the first to recognize the worlds first nanobot attack.
|
"Fucking dipshits."
I swear if I hadn't been stationed in this building the whole damn government would collapse.
I walked towards the kitchen.
Does nobody here even understand basic machinery, let alone nanotechnology? I mean, they could have at least tried to pour water on the little bastards. It wouldn't have worked, but at least it would have been logical. Or did those retards really think that it was just glitter. What kind of prank is that. "Oh hey guys let's send them some glitter, it'll be *Hilarious*."
How in the ever-loving fuck is that funny.
I opened the fridge as I scanned its contents, quickly finding what I was looking for. "At least these dipshit's know how to stock the fridge."
I then strolled over to the pile of "glitter".
"It's like mom always said. If you want something done right, you got to do it yourself."
I took the cap off of the gallon and poured the white liquid in and over the now ripped bag of glitter, being sure the liquid engulfed all of the specs that had managed to travel away from the bag. Water is one thing, but milk was a whole different animal. Everyone knows machines can't handle dairy.
I walked away, taking my leave of the workspace as a small line of smoke rose from the dysfunctional nanobots at my back.
|
My fist swing was as if powered by jet fuel, woosh, contact. I hit her square in the jaw. Instantly billions of Nano-Bots clouded the air and a high pitched screech filled my ear drums.
Three Days Earlier:
We were sitting all laughing about the glitter we got in mail the previous day. More assurance based comedy really. Things like,
“Well of course it’s just glitter! I mean c’mon man!”
And,
“Oh ISIS I am so scared of your glitter attacks!”
All followed with laughter and hands smacking thighs in delight.
It was after the ISIS comment that I noticed a small glimmer on the the check of my boss. It was pulsing along with her vocal patterns and no one else seemed to be aware of their presence.
The next day my boss and serval other employees were missing. No one seemed to connect this and the glitter until Rick our Human Resource Officer started ticking..
| 2015-03-05T11:57:22
| 2015-03-05T08:31:31
| 36
| 19
|
[WP] JFK shot first.
|
JFK is at the parade, suddenly, his president sense ™ tingles.
He takes out his modified M1 garand with reflex sight, fast mag and steady aim, his back up gun since it isn’t that big of a deal.
He shoots the killer in the chest from 10 meters, getting only a hitmarker.
The killer flees and stands behind a wall to heal his wounds, he then flees for good.
Then the parade comes and the killer tries to shoot JFK, but his head just did that soooooo.....
|
The motorcade rolled down the avenue. There he was, smiling and waving to the crowd like he earned it. I never knew his name. They called him John Fitzgerald Kennedy. They called him the President of the United States. The last part may have been true, but not the first. I was John Fitzgerald Kennedy.
I have no memory of when it happened, but one day I was walking by Adams House in Cambridge and the next, I was sitting in a dark room. The man said his name was Lee Harvey Oswald and that he had some questions for me.
They were odd questions, mostly about my family and my families connection to certain Jewish families in Germany. It was 1937. Oswald was a Nazi or at least a sympathizer.
It took me two years to climb out of that hell and by the time I got my feet under me and got back to Hyannis Port, the impostor was firmly implanted and I was thrown out on my ear.
For the next 15 years, I drank, whored, gambled, and basically lived the life of a man who had no purpose or sense of direction. I forgot who I was. I forgot that I had been replaced. That all changed in 1960 when I won the Presidential election.
Oddly, I was in Canada at the time, working a lumber mill and getting drunk every night... and day. Someone came in and told me what had happened. I watched through rum-colored glasses until I saw him appear on television. I was shocked into sobriety. There was my impostor and standing next to him was his brother, Robert Kennedy.
I say it was his brother because it sure as heck wasn't mine. Worse, the man pretending to be Bobby Kennedy was none other than Lee Harvey Oswald.
Were Ted and Rosemary replaced too? My father? Mother? I stood and walked out of that lumber camp and started a three year journey that led me here.
I never found out what the fake John Kennedy was going to do. In many ways, he seemed a decent man even if he was a philanderer. I suppose that may have been an imitation though. I was never exactly loyal to the women I went with. Still, to the outside observer, the man had done nothing to be assassinated for. If not for the man portraying Bobby, I would never have thought twice about him.
The gun felt steady in my hands. We had to be sure. I saw Bobby, the real Bobby, through my scope. He was standing at the top of a little grassy rise that could oversee the motorcade. He wasn't a good shot, even though he had a pistol, it was just in case I missed.
I wouldn't miss.
I found most of my family. Bobby was the only one still alive. Rosemary had died of a drug overdose. Joseph had died killing his own impostor. I found out later that Joseph had been the first of us to change. He had been captured by the actual Nazi's in 1934 when he traveled to Germany.
Kathleen, like Joseph, died killing her own impostor in a plane crash. Eunice was killed trying to kill her own impostor. She failed and her body was dumped in the Charles. Patricia and Ted, as near as I could tell, forgot that they were ever Kennedys to begin with.
Jean and Robert though, I found and recruited. It was Jean who insured that "John" would ride in the open air and it was Robert who made sure that they took the intended route.
I exhaled and fired. I didn't miss. I fired again.
A third shot? I only fired twice. I don't know who fired at the Governor.
I am sorry about the other man. Tippit? I... panicked and I will accept responsibility for that. I had just killed the highest ranked spy the world has ever known and I thought he was there to kill me, but I acted hastily. His death weighs on me.
But for the so called President? I'm glad he's dead. He would have destroyed America. I'm a damned hero.
| 2018-03-21T08:25:25
| 2018-01-02T09:00:14
| 27
| 10
|
[WP] Fit as many plot twists as you can into one story.
|
I took a piece of ribbon, and uncapped my sharpie. On the green fabric I wrote the word "plot", in my messy handwriting. Then I took one end of the ribbon and tied it to the nearest fencepost. The other end I affixed to the crankshaft of the V8 engine I had sitting in my backyard. I revved the motor, and the ribbon twisted itself over and over again, too fast to count.
|
James was sitting in his 3rd hour biology class talking to his crush, Jessica.
All of the sudden, James felt something overcome his body
"Oh no" James shrieked as he sat in his sweat covered chair
He felt a hot luscious liquid trying to escape from his rectal gates
He got up and made a mad dash for the door, but it was too late
The floodgates had opened and diarrhea violently spewed out of the ends of his jeans
He stood there frozen, in shock, as the class stared him in the eyes
Slowly, each classmate got up and started to clap. Soon, the entire classroom was roaring with excitement, frantically clapping and cheering James on
His crush, Jessica, sprinted to James and tackled him to the floor
They immediately started to fornicate on the shit covered floor.
Their biology teacher, Al Sharpton, quickly got out his 1997 Sony camcorder and started recording the fecal fornication.
He was in the middle if climaxing when he heard something strange
"James" "JAMES!"
James awoke in a fiery sweat
He looked above and saw a black and white silhouette
It was a NFL referee. He had gone unconscious on the 27 yard line in the middle of a Sam Diego Chargers football game from a helmet to helmet hit.
Jessica was no where to be found and James was disappointed to find out the best day of his life was only a dream.
Regardless of his sadness, he had to get up and do the only thing that was right, play football.
James is Phillip Rivers.
| 2016-11-27T11:38:29
| 2016-11-27T10:55:05
| 42
| 10
|
[WP] "Usually when we first contact a civilization, it is very easy to get them under our banner..." The Empress sighed. "...Not the humans though."
|
"Usually when we first contact a civilization, it is very easy to get them under our banner..." The Empress sighed. "...Not the humans though."
The assembled collection of interplanetary rulers looked on, faces carefully blank as to not show any emotion that might set their imperial ruler into a rage. Long has it been since the Empress claimed her throne amongst the many countless galaxies she had enslaved, and since then her temper has been legendary for its ferociousness.
"They are..." the Empress started, before trailing off as if the very words she needed had eluded her. "They are beyond our understanding."
The gathered conglomerate of rulers collectively gasped, all pretense of decor abandoned in the face of what their ruler had just stated. The Empress was a rock, an infallible source of leadership and knowledge. To admit that there was something that was beyond her was so rare that none of the species present, some of which lived for centuries, could not remember a moment where it had happened before.
A brave Clixperr, a race of blue-skinned, four eyed insectoids, raised his hand. "Err, your highness? What do you mean? I mean no disrespect, but I find it hard to believe that those... Dirt Walkers... could be beyond you."
The Empress' left antennae twitched, which was usually the first and only sign any creature got before they were removed from existence. Instead of incinerating the creature who dared talk out of turn, however, the Empress simply closed her eyes and took a deep breath, before answering.
"They are... a confusing sort," the Empress replied, temporarily forgiving her subject. "They don't react the way most sentient creatures do."
No one spoke without being addressed this time. Life flashed before their eyes once. It was more than enough for one day. Noticing the obedient silence, the Empress continued.
"Our scouting drones reported back a backwater civilization. They are barely out of Beta Stage of development."
Most aliens at the Empress' table shared a condoned laugh. Beta Stage of Civilized Development was the point where a civilization stopped fighting each other over resourced deemed valuable in the Alpha Stage, and started working coherently toward space travel.
There hadn't been a Beta Stage planet in millennia.
The different creatures reveled in their mockery for scant minutes more before the Empress spoke up once more, her silent words cutting through the chatter like a knife. "And yet, their technology has already reached that of Nevulon Five's."
Nevulon Five, while not the most technologically advanced of the planets under the Empress' rule, was among the best regardless. The room fell into silence once more.
"But... how?" a commander asked. The Empress, apparently feeling generous, let him keep his life as well. Such was the extent that the humans unnerved her.
"We... are unable to tell," the Empress sighed. "That is but an example of a much bigger, underlying problem." The Empress leaned forward, and as one, every other person in the room leaned back. "The humans squabble. They have clear, unrestrained hatred for one another, and everything in our databases say they should take themselves out. And yet... they don't. They continue to thrive amongst each other even though most of their technological and sociological advances are based towards killing each other. They adapt to harsh environments for the sole purpose of proving a point, and they constantly ingest near toxic substances and perform near deadly feats to simply prove they can."
The room was deathly silent. No one dared utter a word about such odd, terrifying creatures.
"Honestly, they are quite impressive. Quite insane, but in a way that would be entertaining. I believe we should extend every courtesy to get them to join. All those against?"
No one dared oppose. The question was a challenge, not a request.
"Good. Meeting adjourned."
As the creatures left, the Empress smiled a wicked smile. She told none of them of the humans' tendency to conquer. They would no doubt go on a spree to eliminate everyone weaker than them, most likely starting with the weaker planets in her own kingdom.
At worse? They would overthrow her. At best, they would whip the more pathetic ones into shape. The Empress shrugged, at least it would be amusing.
And most entertaining indeed.
|
"Usually when we first contact a civilization, it is very easy to get them under our banner..." The Empress sighed. "...Not the humans though."
At the time no one could have understood what she had meant, knowing quite simply that The Empress had come to that conclusion after years of debate among her court and her military advisers. Initially, scouts were sent daily in order to retrieve human specimens for research. Each time, the scouts would return with bodies and with experimentation we learned about the human species and their ability to think for themselves and possess a means of unique governance known as "democracy". Inevitably, this meant that in both literal and abstract ways our conventional means of communication from the mothership would not reach the leaders of Humanity. Since the very first human came aboard The Empress took personal notice and would watch as the humans were interrogated. In time, she began to keep the humans as "pets" and at every sighting her fellow aristocrats would shudder in disgust. One would not be determined as wrong in assuming her view towards the Humans as anything but that of below even a slave species such as the Tarian.
"I want to speak to my domain, within an hour I will make an announcement."
An hour had come and went, members of the Court still debating on what the content of the announcement would be. Many thought it would be plausible that The Empress would declare a full scale invasion, similar to previous planets that had proved to be invulnerable to low level subversion and mind control.
They could not have been more wrong.
"Citizens of the Claxian Empire, I hereby decree the following..."
In addressing the whole entire Empire across the billions of star systems we had conquered, The Empress had already placed herself in the annals of history without even saying a word. With bated breath, the Empire watched as The Empress took off her gold emblazoned crown and placed down her sceptre, revealing to every man, woman and child that she too was a mere mortal Claxian.
"Earth shall not be invaded."
Within seconds, everything had changed.
Whether those back home on Claxia Prime knew or not, The Empress had become fascinated with human trifles such as "emotion" and "love" and saw the Humans as equals. The notion sounded preposterous even to the Lords that had volunteered to join her in conquering the Milky Way. Yet somehow she had pulled a complete turn, decades later it would appear that her conversations with various humans on such topics had broken through her carapace and like the strongest of acid, melted away her characteristic bloodlust.
"Have you lost your mind!"
The Lords yelled in unison, feeling with their tendrils that military victory and complete domination was only a planet away.
The Empress refused to say a word.
Naturally, she had work to do.
| 2017-11-05T18:46:01
| 2017-11-05T14:23:06
| 224
| 61
|
[WP] A soldier on the front dies in the middle of writing a letter home. It is finished and sent by the man who killed him.
|
My dearest Anna,
I know that when I left I told you it was for the best, and that I needed space, but this was not the way to get it. The front has been hell. Sitting in what feels like a pit, eating watery soup they call food, and wishing I could come back home to your delicious cooking. I know I told you I was joining up on your 21st birthday, but this just feels right, and I want to say I'm sorry. This ordeal has caused me to forget what I was even mad about.
I miss you, and tell my mom I miss her too. My tour will be over in three months, and I will have some apologizing to do.
Ok, Anna, most sorry, but in raid, husband was shot. English not first language, so please bear with. Husband is in hospital, looks like no going to make it, he wanted me to say sorry, and he loves you. I am sorry too. Do not blame me, or husband for shot, just doing the jobs.
Signed:
Harland Jones, and Pvt. Yuri Kaspanov
|
My love,
I miss you and the child terribly. Life in the trenches is hard, but bearable, knowing that-
*A fold and several stains coat the paper.*
---
To whom it may concern:
No words can express my sorrow for your loss. Gerard was a brave man - a good soldier, one who anyone could be proud of.
War is hell. Men who would otherwise have been brothers are pitted against each other and forced to kill to survive. We soldiers are not enemies - these wars are fought by politicians, not by the men in the field.
Gerard was a remarkable man. He didn't let his fear for his own life turn him into a killer - he held to his morals in the darkest and the most hellish of environments.
I wish I was as much of a man as he was. I killed him with a knife to the throat - out of fear, out of cowardice, out of my own inability to see past my need for survival.
I know it won't help, but I'm sorry - I should have been the one to die, not him.
I killed my brother - we were all brothers.
In the end, we differed only by the side of the trenches we were on.
-P. Bäumer
---
^This ^is ^a ^reference ^to ^Erich ^Maria ^Remarque's ^*All* ^*Quiet* ^*On* ^*The* ^*Western* ^*Front.* ^If ^you ^haven't ^read ^it ^yet, ^look ^into ^it- ^it ^details ^some ^of ^the ^horrors ^of ^war, ^and ^the ^loss ^that ^comes ^with ^them.
Questions? Criticisms? Want to see more? Check out more of my stuff at /r/Draxagon
| 2015-02-03T13:10:45
| 2015-02-03T13:02:09
| 95
| 48
|
[WP] You are a Squib who mastered a vast repertoire of Muggle magic tricks to finagle Hogwarts into sending you a letter. Everything goes smoothly, until it is time for the Sorting Ceremony...
|
The hat seemed to gasp.
Yes, definitely a gasp. The entire room of first years wiggled and strained to the edges of their seats, trying to hear from the Sorting hat.
Harrison kept a straight face. Years of practice. You must never show you're nervous, and never draw attention to the truth.
"The truth, eh?" snapped the Sorting Hat, the voice bouncing into Harrison's scull, reverberating. It was unnerving, more than he expected. He didn't expect it to read his every thought, either.
The students closest to the front could see a bead of sweat roll down Harrison's forehead. But his eyes remained calm, focused on the crowd.
"Yes," thought Harrison, trying to beam his thoughts directly to the hat. "I'm different, that I will not hide from you, but I am as talented as most of them!"
"Oh yes, talented. A bit conniving, obviously. And smart. Daring for sure. And underneath, a good heart. You could be at home at any of the Houses if you only had a lick of magic in you."
Harrison tried not to be phased. He hadn't known how powerful the hat really was. He felt it permeate his mind. He had hoped the hat would somehow miss his lack of ability to perform REAL magic.
" Yes, but this is what I want. This is where I belong."
The hat sighed, audibly. Confusion was rippling through the students. This was the longest they've ever seen the hat decide.
"Where you belong. Hmm, perhaps you have a point. Oh yes, you have some powerful wizards in your family tree. Way back to old Dadelus Cogsteel. Did anyone ever tell you his story?"
"No?" Thought Harrison. Now, he too was furrowing his brow in confusion.
"Oh yes, great wizard, and a great inventor," continued the hat. "And a dear friend of Godric Gryffindor. When the founders needed particularly charmed and unique objects, they turned to codgy old Cogsteel. He helped out greatly with many a trick and feature of the school. He was quite old when he was presented a problem he couldn't find a charm for. He poured everything into all kinds of doodads and magical machines, but they were quite useless for this purpose."
Harrison felt like he had no idea where this was going. He was quite concerned that he would be found out soon. Far too much time was passing.
"Oh yes, but old Cogsteel couldn't imagine failing the founders. He instead grabbed the nearest thing to him, an ugly old hat. And he gave it something special. His magic, Harrison."
Now an awareness was coming to him.
"Yes, that old timer didn't have much use for it anymore, with the school being done, so he put all his magic straight into me, and created a magical item that could look into a soul. Every last bit of his magic, to be clear."
The hat cleared it's throat. The students wiggled once more to the edges of their seats.
"SORT YOUR DAMN SELVES FROM NOW ON!" Shouted the hat, so loud that the students flung themselves back in their chairs so hard that several fell over completely.
Back in Harrison's brain, the hat spoke with warmth.
"He would have wanted this." Harrison felt something rush though his scalp. A tingling sensation spread though his body. He swore he could feel sparks at his fingertips.
He was magic.
The hat slid off his head. It was just a dirty old hat, now. A little ugly, but same as any other.
|
I hadn't been so nervous in my life. The past months since I got the letter have been filled with nerves. Excitement, yes, but so many nerves. But when the headmistress called my name, an unexpected wave of confidence hit me. The letter, came, I had gotten onto platform nine and three quarters, and now here I was, in the Great Hall and ready to be sorted.
I sat down on the stool, and the hat fell on top of my head. A small voice cleared it's throat, then spoke with surprise. "Well this is interesting. Credit where it's due kid, you're the first one to make it this far."
"This far? What does that mean?"
"You think you're the first one to try this? The world is full of squibs who run to their mailboxes everyday hoping to get their letter. The sad part is that our letter wouldn't even go to their mailbox. But like I said, you're the first to make it this far, so well done."
My mind was racing, and my heart began pounding as my brief wave of confidence began to pass. "So…What now?"
"I don't know, I never expected this to happen. I could just stop the ceremony and the headmistress would probably have you sent back to Surrey-"
"Wait? You know-"
"Of course Dursley, when I heard your name called I remembered."
"How do you know who I am?"
"I had a few encounters with your uncle while he was in school. I'm sure you've heard a few stories, he had an eventful few years at Hogwarts. I wonder what he thought when he found out you were coming to Hogwarts, and what he would say if he knew the truth, assuming he doesn't already."
"So he doesn't have to know the truth? Does anybody?"
"Well it's a little late to keep your secret from me, but the rest is up to you. Now let's get to your sorting."
My heart began to beat faster if it were possible. It had worked, and it was going to work. The hat began to speak again.
"Slytherin would suit you well, cunning is clearly a strength of yours."
"Really? Slytherin?" The dissappointment must have shown in my voice.
"Nothing wrong with Slytherin, many great wizards came from Slytherin. It would suit you well, just like it would have suited your uncle well."
"But Uncle Harry was a Gryffindor…"
"Of course I know that. Gryffindor clearly suited him well, and I maintain to this day that Slytherin would've as well. Remember that the world isn't so clearly divided - lines blur, there are gray areas. Slytherin, Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw - they're all a part of Hogwarts, which is only one school."
"So what will it be?"
The hat hummed for a few moments, which felt like ages. I began to realize how long our conversation had been, and wondered if this might have been a record of some sort for a sorting. The hat must have some sort of time control magic, or the whole ceremony would go on until morning.
"Good luck Dursley, do your uncle and yourself proud. GRYFFINDOR!!!!!!!!!!"
| 2017-06-25T19:58:33
| 2017-06-25T17:42:13
| 39
| 16
|
[WP] You are a cow.
[removed]
|
"Quack......quack quack quack.......quack quack"
"Moooooo.....mooooooooo......"
"Quack quack quack"
"Mooooooooo......"
It had been six weeks since the vet had diagnosed Laurence with Mad Cow Disease. Phillip had yet to give up hope and figured it was a 90's phase that he was going through.
"Mooooooo....."
"........quack"
Phillip shed a single tear. The friend he knew and loved had become a shadow of his former self.
|
As I stared aimlessly forwards, I contemplated life. My surroundings had the potential to be beautiful, but I could not see it. My frustrations limited my sight drastically. I can only see the reasons for my frustrations.
That tree isn't there to provide shade, nourishment and beauty, it is there to encroach upon my already small living space.
The birds singing merrily as they fluttered through the sky, their screeching voices became mocking and taunting. They had experienced life outside of this place, they were rubbing it in.
I jolted from my train of thoughts as I felt something brush against me. I swung my head to the right, only to see my halfwit sister. She was walking backwards, trying to stick her tongue in her nose. What a moron.
Looking at her filled me with despair once again. I surveyed the rest of my cell mates. All of them idiots. Some were my immediately family, some were distant relations. That didn't matter to me, they were all the same.
They were happy and content with life. Not knowing what was beyond the grey solid wall. They were all mindless zombies, following the two-legged creature around. Doing the same thing day in and day out. I was different. I longed for adventure.
I was certain that they could sense I was different. I was gifted with intellect, with smarts. No one else had that. I was the one that would become something. I would be the first to break free of this monotonous life. The others would most likely follow. They don't know how to do anything else.
The frustration of being the only intelligent one here threatened to overwhelm me. I kicked the floor, hoping to release some of it, but only gained pain. I felt the anger and resentment building up inside of me. I saw the two legged creature walking towards me and I knew this was my moment. I knew I had to communicate with it, make it understand that I am not like the others.
I approached the moving wall, waiting for it to come through. As soon as it had, I charged towards it. I could smell the fear it eluded, could see the fear in its eyes. I came to an abrupt stop right in front of it. We stared at eachother for a few seconds. The energy inside me felt almost electric, I knew this was going to be my moment to shine.
As the fear started to fade from its eyes, I gathered all my strength and determination, forcing it to help me communicate with it. Make it see sense. It was flowing through my body, nearly reaching my head. Then it erupted out of me.
"Mooooooo...ooooooooooo."
No. This wasn't meant to happen. Panic started to take over.
"Mooooooo..."
The two legged creature made a croaking noise, which I had worked out was laughter. It was laughing at me. It patted my face and walked off.
Hopelessness washed over me. All of my intellect, all of my cunning, my wit. It accounted for nothing. I was doomed to this life. I realised this now. I am not better than my peers. I am Cow.
| 2017-10-02T06:54:58
| 2017-10-02T06:43:21
| 42
| 11
|
[WP] Your home is being invaded, fortunately you are armed with the BEST home defense system available: A 36 year old Macaulay Culkin who's tired of this shit.
|
The house was silent.
The lights were off, and so was the toaster, the television- even the lava lamp.
Mark crouched behind the coffee table, only letting his eyes pop up above the edge of fhe surface.
Everything seemed to be going as planned. Mr Culkin stood behind the door, one eye on the window and one eye on the christmas ornamenrs on the carpet.
A shadow moved.
The door handle juggled slightly, and a faint voice was heard, saying "The door's unlocked. Must be our lucky day."
Dim lights peeked through the crack of the door way as the robbers slowly, and silently opened the door.
Stepping inside, they looked at the christmas ornaments on the floor, probably wondering why they were there. It was four days till easter.
Mark knew he had made the right choice, for on this night, this very night, the night two burglars broke in uninvited (but he was aware that they were going to), Mr Culkin had triumphed again.
Macaulay Culkin walked out from behind the door and brained the pair with a baseball bat.
|
"So you're telling me, you knew this was going to happen?"
"Right," I said, nodding, "that bastard Mike had threatened me last night that he was going to come into my house, and, I quote, 'kill you so hard, that you'll die again.'"
Culkin frowned at that, "Die...again?"
I shrugged, "Mike's not the brightest guy, I guess all of it went into his biceps and ego."
"Whatever man," Culkin said, shaking his head, "but my question is, why call me? Like, I don't know, why not call the *fucking police,* you know, whose job it is to deal with stuff like this."
"I mean, you came though," I pointed out.
Culkin exploded out of the chair he was sitting in and loomed in front of me. It would've been sufficiently intimidating, had it not been for his wiry frame and death pale skin. "I thought this was some kind of joke one of my friends set up, and we were going to have a laugh about it and drink or smoke, I didn't expect some god damn lunatic!" Culkin was shouting towards the end.
I held up my hands in a placating gesture, "look man whatever, just me help me get rid of this asshole, and we can all go our separate ways, yeah?"
Culkin started to massage his temples. "Look, Joe-"
"It's John, actually," I said.
Culkin shot me an irritated glance, and continued, "-John, whatever, Home Alone was a *movie.* It was all props and stuff, none of it was actually real."
I frowned, "not real?" Realization suddenly dawned on me. "Oh my God, I'm so sorry!"
"*Finally*," Culkin gasped and looked tiredly up to the ceiling.
"You've just forgotten all your tricks. I mean, it has been years since you last did it right, like, what, twenty years? No need to be embarrassed man, it's totally natural to forget things."
Culkin looked at me with narrowed eyes, "you...you can't be serious."
I put my hand on Culkin's shoulder, and he flinched. I continued in my soothing voice, "It's only 3 pm, home invaders don't really come in the day, so we can watch Home Alone 1 & 2, I'm sure it'll come back to you!" I looked at him expectantly, waiting for his excited reaction.
Culkin opened his mouth to say something, then frowned. "I.."
Then he shook his head and walked out the door.
Huh.
Maybe I could call the Wet Bandits? They might know how to deal with things like this. Think like a criminal and all that.
***
(minor edits)
If you liked this and would like to read some serious stuff, check out my new subreddit [XcessiveWriting](https://www.reddit.com/r/XcessiveWriting/)
| 2017-01-13T09:01:11
| 2017-01-13T08:58:23
| 51
| 10
|
[WP] You're rather annoyed that your history teacher gave you a D on your essay about Mesopotamia. Not just because you're sure she doesn't like you, but also because - as an ancient being trying to adapt to modern society - YOU WERE THERE.
|
Immortality gets rather *boring* after multiple centuries waiting for humans to develop new technology. The rapid development humans have experienced in the last few years has kept me entertained very well, suffice to say; as long as they don't blow each other up and make everything boring again, life has been rather flush with excitement.
Unfortunately, it's also been rather flush with aggravation. I decided to enroll myself in a school to see what children today are learning about history, times I was alive in, just to see how accurate they were. I was actually impressed, given the limited available artifacts to study. They got most of it down, including making fun of that rotten bastard Ea-Nasir. I'm still angry, a few millenia later.
A quiz on ancient Mesopotamia was handed out today, where we had to write an essay on what daily life was like in Mesopotamia. Having been blessed with a photographic memory (and also actually having *been there*) I wrote what I would consider a beautiful piece on a daily routine; waking up, preparing for work, taking in the sights on the way, et cetera. It was a pleasant era, I must admit.
It came as no surprise when the essay returned with an F and a "See me after class!" note. I don't think the teacher liked me anyway; she always assumed that I had been lying, whenever I corrected her on something she got wrong. I was only trying to help, after all, but her sour attitude certainly made it harder than it had to be.
This isn't the first time this had happened, and to be honest I was getting rather sick of it at this point. I am tired of being treated like a moron when I know more than she ever will. I must teach her a lesson. Murder is easy, of course, but it never really works, that I have learned. Perhaps I'll put her in my shoes of that day, and see what she thinks of my essay when she comes back to the present.
The one thing I know for sure is that Mrs. Smith is... what was that word they used? Ah, yes. A **bitch.**
|
The prompt was simple. Choose a Mesopotamian ruler or dynasty, and explain how their reign affected the ancient civilizations. Pretty easy, especially when you lived through it. The problem comes up when your teacher wants sources. I can't exactly explain how I was there and how I know that I'm correct. That I'm more correct than the sources they want me to use are. Mistranslations have caused many problems in primary sources. And secondary sources are rife with bias and convenient framing of evidence. It's much simpler to just explain how it happened without things getting muddled down with all those sources. Ms. Jones would never accept any explanation I could give. Not like I'd want to explain that to her either. Don't think I'm gonna pass this class, at least not with Ms. Jones teaching it. Probably gonna have to repeat sophomore year because of this mess. In the end it doesn't matter though. I've lived for this long, so what's an extra year of high school in millenia of misery?
| 2021-07-17T23:57:54
| 2021-07-17T23:46:05
| 446
| 101
|
[WP] a woman has been dating guy after guy, but it never seems to work out. She’s unaware that she’s actually been dating the same guy over and over; a shapeshifter who’s fallen for her, and is certain he’s going to get it right this time.
Horror story or romantic comedy?
|
"Raul," crooned Raul in a very suspicious French accent, as he took the lady's hand and graced his eager lips on it. "Let me guess," he continued, releasing his grip and pulling a chair out from the table. "Sit, please. Let me guess, you're a Mari- no, no, you're a Cassandra? I'm right, am I not?"
*Suave.* Yes, that was what he would be today.
The woman's botoxed forehead tried its best to frown, her lips fighting (and losing) a similarly uneven battle. "How on Earth did you know that?"
Raul slicked his dark hair back with ringed fingers. "Your beauty, it was that of a Maria, or a Cassandra, and there was a certain radiance that could be of no Maria. I see, no wrinkle has dared to blight your perfect face -- that tells me all I need to know." He lowered his voice to a rippling whisper. "*All I need to know.*"
Cassandra giggled through perfectly still lips as she slid into a seat. "My," she said, "You are a charmer. And that accent... Australian?"
"Australian?"
"Yes. I'm certain of it. I've got an aunt who lives there, and strike me down if you don't sound *just the same!* Don't worry -- she's a smoker."
Raul cursed himself silently. He hadn't done enough research for the role. No, it was fine -- he'd improvise.
"Yes, mate. Good catch."
He sat in his seat and raised a hand, clicking his fingers to gain the attention of a waiter. "If I had a bloody boomerang, I'd get us the wine myself," he said with a wink.
Another half chuckle as the waiter approached. Raul knew her very favourite drink, her very favourite food... Yes, this time he'd get the pudding he'd been after for so long. But he had to be confident. She liked confident.
"Lambrusco, for the lovely Sheila. And the house re- a uh..."--he swallowed hard--"Fosters for me."
The waiter lifted his head and eyed Raul snobbishily. "*House Fosters*, sir?"
"Yeah," Raul replied, tugging at his shirt. "You know, out of the house tap."
"Very good, sir. And to eat?"
"Pie and chips for the lady, and... do you do anything off the barbie?"
"Sir?"
"Struth. Just a burger then, mate."
The lady eyed Raul with suspicion. "I wouldn't normally let someone order for me, but... How did you know I loved pies?"
"Know? Oh, that you're a classy pie lass? Well, it's obvious ain't it."
"Is it?"
"It is to me. A lady who would wear a fashionable tracksuit like that, to a place like this, well, she'd be after the fanciest meal on the whole bloody menu."
If she could have smiled she would have done, Raul hoped. God, she was beautiful. Beneath all that make up. Maybe. Raul began to sweat. This was the best any of their dates had gone *to date*. He couldn't mess it up now. It was time to lay his heart on the table.
"Look, Cassandra, I'm gonna' level with you. I think you're mighty fine, and I reckon you think I'm fine. I mean, I figure I'm the sort of guy you'd normally go for."
Cassandara shrugged. "Eh."
"Eh? What do you mean, 'eh'"?
"You're a little too pretty-boy, for my tastes, to be honest."
"You can't be serious. You can't be bloody serious! I've seen all the men you've rejected. What the hell is left?"
Cassandra went tense. "You've *seen* the men I've been out with?"
"Well I er, oh struth," Raul said sadly, knowing he couldn't stop it now. The man's stylish exterior began to wilt, his skin flaking to reveal the green monstrosity beneath. Screams echoed about the restaurant and cutlery migrated high in all directions.
"Wh-what kind of monster are you?" asked Cassandra, her lips trying desperately to quiver.
"Me?" Raul asked, a rage in the pit of his stomach rising. "Me?! What the hell kind of monster are *you*? -- That's the real question! I've tried *everything* to please you. I've been Brad bloody Pitt and Oscar bloomin Wilde. Nothing makes you happy. Nothing!" He realised at this point that he didn't *need* to keep the accent up, but there was something rather bloody pleasing about it.
"Th-hey were *you*?"
Raul's skin began to change again, his black hair falling out in thick clumps, while greasy blonde hair sprouted hurriedly in its place. It took only seconds for Cassandra to be face to face with... Cassandra.
"This," said the new Cassandra, as it got up from its seat, "Is the only person I think you could ever love. You are the worst specimen of any creature I've ever met. And I've been to the Betelgeuse system *and* Scotland. Good day to you!"
Raul/Cassandra had almost stomped its way to the door, when it heard the plaintive scream from behind and stopped in its tracks.
"Waiiit!"
The other Cassandra came running up to it.
"What do you want now? Come to mock me one last time?"
"Mock? No! I'd never mock someone like you. Mmm mm mmmm, you are *gorgeous*. I think... I think I was a bit hasty. How about one more try?" she asked with a salacious wink.
Raul/Cassandra smiled. *Finally*.
"Can you change *any* part of your body?" she inquired as they walked back towards their table.
|
Jess could pinpoint exactly when she first thought her feelings were wrong: eighth grade after Advanced Algebra. Her friend Katie got an 82% on a test— and that was disastrously low for Katie’s norm, and considered even lower by her parents standards. Jess spent the rest of the class period trying to cheer her friend up:
“It’s one test— it doesn’t define you. You’re amazing and good at everything. You’re kind and pretty, and this is just a small hiccup! I know you’ll ace the next test! I know it! We can study together— and you’ll probably be saving me from failing, like you normally do.”
When Katie smiled back at her, with a red nose, and puffy eyes, Jess knew that she felt something more for her friend.
Jess, of course, buried her feelings. By no means was she homophobic, but every time she began to feel something for a friend or looked too long at a woman that walked by, she felt unsure of herself, felt like others would somehow know what she was thinking and judge her. So she buried it down— at least, until college.
Jess decided that she would at least try to get into the dating world. She’d go to parties with her friends, and when guys would be interested in her, she’d flirt back and have some fun— and she did, in fact, enjoy her time with most of these guys. So she continued to have fun at parties, flirt, have some friends with benefits, but nothing substantial. Jess liked these guys, of course, but nothing felt like the dramatic and raw feeling of love and emotion that she always heard about from her friends. She decided it was time to start seriously dating— time to find Mr Right, and then she would start to understand how all her friends felt with their boyfriends. They even said it themselves, “You just haven’t found the right guy, Jess.”
The first few relationships Jess was in did not last long— barely even a relationships since they were only a handful of dates and kisses over two or three months before parting ways.
Then she met Matt. He was gorgeous— all of Jess’s friends said so— and he was very into her.
“Jess, I haven’t been completely honest,” he said one night during a dinner date two months into their relationship.
“Um— what?”
“The first time I met you, it wasn’t at that coffee shop. We were actually at the same college— we had a lecture together for one semester. I saw you at a couple parties too.”
“Oh,” Jess said, relieved to find out she wasn’t a side-chick or that his secret wasn’t relationship-ending— but she realized that, maybe she didn’t really care if their relationship ended anyway. “That’s— okay. I don’t remember seeing you though.”
“I realized that at the shop,” he said smiling a bit sheepishly, “but we didn’t really talk and I looked a bit different back then.”
Jess broke up with Matt three months later.
“How could you break up with him? He was so hot!” Regina, her roommate and best friend since college, told her.
“There wasn’t any spark— he was kind of a doormat. He had no personality and went with whatever I said.”
“That sounds like the perfect man to me.” Jess threw the couch pillow at her. “Okay, okay— no man slaves. Hey— wanna watch a movie tonight?”
And Jess never felt more comfortable, more at home, than sharing a blanket with Regina on their couch and watching a crappy movie.
Regina moved out six months later to live with her boyfriend.
“Are you bringing Cam to the engagement party?” Regina asked her half a year later. “Most people Jim and I invited are bring their boyfriends or girlfriends.”
Jess had been dating Cameron for five months now, and things were nice. They liked all of the exact same things, worked in similar fields, had the same hobbies— everyone said they were perfect for each other.
“Yeah, he said he’ll come. You said to come for dinner at eight? Is there anything I could bring? Dessert? Wine?”
“You know we always appreciate more wine— but we’ve got plenty already. All you have to do is bring yourself. And Cam.”
Just a few weeks after Regina’s wedding eight months later, Jess broke it off with Cam. The wedding itself was beautiful, and Jess couldn’t bear to make Regina worry by breaking up with Cam before it.
“But Jess— I love you— we love each other! We love all the same foods and places. We even listen to the same music and watch the same shows— we were perfect for each other this time!”
“That’s the thing, Cam, I don’t want someone who’s the same as me. I don’t want to date myself. I want to date someone that’s different and will push my boundaries— make me try new things— maybe I’ll find things that I never even knew I liked before—“
She thought of all the men she’s dated in the past: they were all the same. They were all Nice Guys that were nice and sweet but had nothing to them— each relationship was hollow and lacked any true, real substance. How many men had she gone on dates with? 15? 20? And none of them made her feel any different. She longed to feel the feelings she felt for her friends with anyone who wasn’t her friends. Maybe, she thought, maybe she could. She was so tired, she had nothing to lose.
“Cam, we’re through. I’m sorry if it’s sudden, but I’m tired— of everything— I have been for a while now, even before I met you.”
“Well... I hope you meet someone one day,” Cam said after a long moment. “Maybe whoever you date next will be the right man for you.”
Jess remained quiet as Cam packed up the few things he had in her apartment. She doubted any man would be right for her.
——
It took her two weeks to text Regina and ask her to meet her for drinks on Friday night.
“Hey, Jess— isn’t this a gay bar that we’re going to? I heard it’s a lot of fun,” she said while they were walking.
“Yeah— I wanted to check it out,” Jess said. They walked in silence for a minute before Jess’ nerves got to her. “Ok— wait, stop walking for a sec. I— I need to tell you. We’re not going to this bar just for fun— I think I’m bi— or a lesbian. I don’t really know.”
“Oh— okay,” Regina said after a moment. “How long do you think you’ve known?”
“Eighth grade. I told you about Katie from high school right?”
“Oh . Yeah that makes sense,” Regina thought for a moment. “Ok you ready to start walking again? It’s cold.”
Jess couldn’t be happier, and hanging out at a bar with her best friend, and the flutters in her stomach when other women came up to them to flirt— it was one of the best nights she’s had in a long time.
And that same bar is where she met Taylor three weeks later. There was something about her— something that made Jess feel like they knew each other for a long time. They liked a lot of the same things, but were different enough that things were still interesting.
There were some things that were a bit quirky though. Taylor was really bad at shaving her legs— she would always nick them multiple times every time she shaved. She was also really bad with makeup and couldn’t tell concealer from foundation. She never had any pads or tampons in her apartment either. Jess had never asked her about it, but she hoped nothing traumatic happened to Taylor that would cause her period to stop. Taylor also had a whole ton of men’s clothing in her apartment.
For all her quirks though, Jess felt better with Taylor than she had with any of the men in her past.
| 2022-08-24T03:20:20
| 2018-02-14T08:50:26
| 1,353
| 476
|
[WP] Superpowers can now be torrented. You were 70% of the way through torrenting a power you've always wanted when the download stops.
|
"No seeders found"
I glare at the screen in utter confusion. "*No* seeders? There were over 20 last night!" When you torrent a power, you seed it automatically, without any option to stop.
The only way to stop seeding a power is if you're killed... *Fuck*
Somebody out there doesn't want this power getting out.
|
*"they're on to me"* I thought. As I saw the seeders drop down to 0. It was so curious to me as to why they were trying to stop me. All I wanted to do was enter command *god mode* and become impervious and immortal. I just wanted to live forever and I figured the best way to ensure lack of bodily injury was to execute god mode. The next morning I was awoken to officers at my door. They served me with a court summons without a reason for summons. Although I protested, the officers simply told me I had no choice other than to comply. That night I got one of my friends to download the torrent for god mode in its entirety and send it to me. Once I finished the download I began the upload into my closed neural network and waited for reactivation... 98... 99... 100...
*"No difference.."* I thought as i looked in the mirror. I sliced my cheek open and it healed instantaneously. No blood whatsoever.
*"They're not gonna know what hit em"* I thought as I contemplated my plan. How did you think you could stop a god?
| 2016-07-02T20:01:23
| 2016-07-02T18:05:34
| 32
| 19
|
[WP] Everyone has magic and the magic they have is based off of their name. Society uses a small range of names because they know the magic that comes with it. Your parents decided to give you a very ancient name that does not have a record of its accompanying magic.
|
"Midas!"
The crowd went icy silent as the king proclaimed the name of the child they would soon bring into the world.
It didn't stay that way for long, soon murmurs of fear and concern swept through the crowd gathered at the naming ceremony. Yes, of course it was the right of the crown to give any name they pleased to their heir, but it had been centuries since any had chosen an untested name.
In years past, most had simply elected to pick a name from the "restricted" pool, also known as the "royal" pool. Names like "Charles", or "William", or "Catherine"! Powerful names that could only be trusted to those children destined for greatness.
Picking an untested name was a recipe for disaster, especially one so ancient! There would be nothing in the way of historical accounts to predict the name's power! So dangerous it was, commoners were strictly forbidden, held to a relatively small list of "safe" names. Straying from the list being punishable by the death of the child, executed by the royal enforcers.
But the heir to the kingdom bearing an untested name? It was a terrifying prospect, what if young Midas had a power so great he couldn't control it? The kingdom could be ripped apart! Worse, what if the power was totally useless? How would he lead the kingdom to prosperity?
As the heir's birthday came and went, it seemed to many that the latter may be the case. Names on the "royal" list almost universally presented at birth, and the new prince showed no signs of any incredible power. Until one day, just a few days short of his first birthday.
All of the king's guards came running towards their Lord's cry of anguish, bursting into the throne room. It was immediately clear why. The king was on his knees, openly weeping and staring across the throne room.
There sat the queen in her usual spot next to her husband's throne. There sat the young prince, cradled in her arms and suckling at her bosom. But no nourishing milk came to the young prince's lips. The queen, milk and all, had been turned to solid gold, her face a mask of agony and fear, betraying her final moments.
|
My full first name is SpagetthiBeast Jeeves ShenronOurobourosTheDestroyer III-49th. My last name is Jones.
\--
Alright so let's sort my powers. My best power is SpaghettiBeast's Spaghetti\_Engage. I see the whole universe, or whatever, part of it I want. Then I go to an Infinite Void. Then some guy named Jeeves walks in with a plate of spaghetti and asks me for a wish and what I would like to eat. First Jeeves asks me how hungry I would like to be (I learned why this would be useful when using Spaghetti\_Engage over and over) from 40 days in the desert to 40 days in paradise, scale of -40 to 80 where 0 to 40 are normal range, negatives are days in desert, and over 40 is days in paradise. Second Jeeves asks for my wish and food of choice. Third Jeeves makes the food happen.
The power is Spaghetti\_Engage because the default plate is spaghetti, which Jeeves is more than willing to switch out. Though lately I just let Jeeves make me the Spaghetti. He's good with the cooking Magic on that one.
Fourth I eat and my wish regardless of what it was comes true.
\--
Second, I'm immortal. I die and come back exactly 48 times (but also somehow infinitely many times, don't ask), apparently I rule over exactly 48 Multiverses and enter in and out of the reality plane to do my spaghetti shit. I die but as soon as my soul wants a body again, it just does. Either by Spagetti\_Void or being back on Earth 3 through 49. Jeeves always shows up to explain stuff too. Jeeves is kinda my slave but sometimes he tells me to do stuff. Like Universe 6 needs a golden age, use your power to give them resources. So Jeeves can be cool or annoying like that. Jeeves is trying to help me start my own Universe, but I just wanna hang out with some chicks. Jeeves has so much faith in me.
\--
Third, I'm Jeeves and I switch off between existence modes, but SpaghettiBeast never knows what Jeeves is thinks, nor Jeeves what SpagettiBeast thinks .
\--
Fourth, I have to destroy the Universes along with me every time I go Shenron or Ourobouros. I transform into some sort of Snake while the Universe becomes Spaghetti, my hunger goes -40, but it turns I am made of Spaghetti and I eat everything in existence until Jeeves pulls me back into existence. I love being Ouroboros because Jeeves and SpaghettiBeast merge consciousnesses at the maxima of destruction. Just for an instant as each Big Bang produces a new Jeeves and a new SpagettiBeast anywhere from Multiverse 3 to 49 at random.
​
A few times we ended up in the same multiverse, which was cool. Jeeves was really easy to understand after such a recent merge and I have fond memories of Multiverse 26.
\--
See most people have names like Archangel Michael or Jesus. I met a few Buddhas who were chill. The Gokus are annoying they always unite Dragon Balls to ask for wishes but the thing is I can't be Shenron without becoming Ouroboros, so things only worked out that time I get their Multiverse twice in a row, like that one time with 26. It'll probably work out again at some point, but golly Krillin(s) need to stop dying.
| 2018-11-23T23:59:18
| 2018-11-23T20:26:08
| 14
| 10
|
[WP] Taxes become optional, however, those who don't pay are not protected under the law.
|
“You still pay taxes?”
Jeff barely held back a laugh.
“Well, sure,” said Dave. “It's only sensible. Otherwise, what would happen if I were the victim of a crime? No justice? I can't accept that.”
Dave paused for a moment.
“So, you don't pay taxes?”
Jeff tapped the coffee stirrer on the lip of his mug.
“Only suckers pay taxes, Dave.”
“How can you say that? Don't you worry about your family?”
“Of course, I do. I worried about them before, too. And the worry wasn't any less then. Say you get murdered, right?”
“You know I don't go in for gruesome hypotheticals.”
“Bear with me. You get murdered. Your family is heartbroken. They fear they will never see justice served.”
“Rightly so.”
“But the killer is still out there. If the police are going to protect all the loyal taxpayers, they can't ignore that. They have to try to find your killer before he strikes again. And if they succeed, your family sees justice served. Not in your name, but none the less. And if not, well... Tragedies like that occurred before the Opt-Out, too.”
“You're saying you get full protection without paying taxes?”
“I'm saying there never was protection, even when I paid taxes. Do you know how few crimes the police actually prevent or stop in progress? Next to zero. Mathematically insignificant. They just work cleanup. And, even then, their success rate is abysmal.”
“But you say they still have to go after criminals regardless of the victim. Except now they have less funding. How does that even work?”
“My theory?”
Jeff paused to take a sip.
“Turns out people get along pretty well on their own when you stop ruining their lives and taking their money for ridiculous things like jaywalking, speeding, selling raw milk, and ingesting, or even possessing, certain plants or chemicals.”
“What, so the police are just going to stop enforcing laws altogether?”
“I'm saying they already have. They just haven't told you, yet.”
Jeff stood up put on his jacket.
“Only suckers pay taxes, Dave.”
|
I sold a brick, a man threw a brick. It was thick, no bull, cracked my skull. Please, police, police this matter. My life could be taken, and although you smell like bacon I'm shakin' in the floor with brain damage looking at the door way; I was slain, landed in floor, I see gray. Now it's black and I relax forever, because did I pay taxes? Never.
| 2015-02-20T09:18:11
| 2015-02-20T08:49:07
| 289
| 22
|
[WP] You are an NPC. One day, you see the player character do some weird steps and duplicate his items. You decide to try it for yourself.
Have fun!
Edit: Huh. I guess I just discovered a karma duplication glitch.
|
It was a lovely day in the streets of Galarya, as usual I sat on my forge awaiting for these strange yet captivating heroes to buy me some good stuff. Swords, hammers, iron arrows, mallets, soot? You name it, I got it. Damn, I was also known as the fastest mender in all Trynalia and these shiny, rich people knew it. My business was burgeoning like hydrangeas in spring.
One fellow caught my attention, he came to town wearing a tattered cloak tightened at the waist by a shaggy cord. Galarya was known for being the most expensive city of them all, and excuse my thoughts but he didn't fit in here.
Well... he proved me wrong, for the moment my prejudices were drawing a disdainful smile, he fumbled into his left pocket and from it a golden jewel, bright as two suns came, throwing my jaw onto the ground.
A firwelan, a jewel so rare it was believed only two of them existed. With jealousy gnawing my insides I stared at that sly smile of Baligar, a hateful goblin who only had eyes for magical and twinkleful things as he chatted with the humble-looking adventurer.
"Relics, I have them, they shine with golden wisps of ancient magic, ready to trade?" Baligar said, that was his usual hook.
But the stranger didn't say anything, he walked off towards Irylania, the city's tailor. She played with her ginger locks, rolling them into her fingers as the golden light of the firwelan grew closer to her.
"Hey, come inside take your clothes off and let me do the work," Irylania said, like Baligar that was her hook.
The stranger nodded and walked inside with her, but the moment his bare feet touched the wood of her floor, he walked out and fumbled once again into his pocket.
Another firwelan.
What in Galanor's iron was happening? An azure, cylindrical beam descended from the sky over the stranger... and he was gone.
Did Irylania hide something? But if she did, why did he go with Baligar first? And why did he never spoke a word? I had to know. My bottom left the forge and I unsheathed Tyrania, my most valuable sword, said to be able to cut through flesh and bone even before it touched them. I breathed deeply and prepared to be considered the city's fool, I imitated every step the stranger had taken.
"Relics, I have them, they shine with golden wisps of ancient magic, ready to trade?" Baligar said and I walked away, towards Irylania.
"Hey, come inside take your clothes off and let me do the work," Irylania said and I nodded.
The very moment my feet stepped into her tailoring I walked out.
And then, I felt a gust of wind travelling inside my clothes and into my pocket. It seemed as if it was taking the shape of something large and sharp.
Too sharp.
The wind was gone, and blood dripped from the back of my leg onto the floor. Trembling, I fumbled into my pocket to find what felt like a too familiar of a hilt. Tyrania lay on my left hand, and now, clasped into my right fist and piercing my leg, another Tyrania rested.
I shouldn't have of unsheathed it.
---------------------------------------------------
/r/therobertfall
|
There was, at first, no reason to pay any special attention to the erratic movements of the young trainer. After all, I had seen that pattern many before - they always seem to end up here, on the island, at some point in their journeys.
I wasn't sure why or when exactly I noticed the particularly strange pattern of this specific trainer. He would fly in on a grand yellow bird, landing right in front of the pokecenter, walk to the edge of the sea bounding our island, and climb atop a lapras. Here is where the mystery began. Whereas most trainers might then surf towards the nearby islands searching for the rumours of a icy bird, this trainer would stay right on the edge, skirting the boundary of earth and water as he pushed his lapras up and down that narrow corridor.
After a while, he would stop, as if seeing something just below the surface of the water, sometimes he would direct attacks towards it, sometimes he just leaves, always wearing that inscrutable, unchanging expression. I did not know what he saw, but when he came ashore again, his bag bulged with gold. He would fly off again, then back, then go into the water once more, and again his bag would fill with rare candies, purple pokeballs, and once, more bikes than should have been possible to carry.
One day, I could hold back my curiosity any longer. Perhaps I could replicate his success - my mother in saffron was always complaining about one thing or another. A stash of gold could go a long way in making her more comfortable.
So it was that one day, when the trainer left before looking down into the water, that I walked to the shore. I peered down. And saw nothing. I walked up and down the edge, but I could make out no miracle. This had to be a mistake, I thought, it must only be visible from on top of the water.
But I had no pokemon to bear me along. Heedless, I climbed down into the water myself, convinced that that wealth and happiness was finally within reach.
Up and down I swam that span, fueled by dreams. Suddenly, I saw a light right below the surface. I raced to it, diving to reach for the amorphous blob which seemed at once so familiar and so foreign.
I touch it.
Pain.
I sink.
I can feel my body contorting into strange shapes, my bones breaking and organs bursting.
Darkness.
I am drawn to a new warmth above. I arise to meet it. I stop just before the surface. I can not leave the water. I see a face. It is the trainer. He is so close to the surface. So very close. I can see his eyes, and immediately wish I could not. A monster is reflected by his expressionless visage.
I know it is I.
He summons his majestic bird and points to me.
I know what is coming.
I must run, but I have no legs.
I must scream, but I have no mouth.
| 2018-01-03T09:18:42
| 2018-01-03T09:13:33
| 117
| 81
|
[WP] A vampire is desperate to see their own face for the first time. Being unable to see their own reflection or appear in photographs, they ask a talented artist to paint their portrait as accurately as possible. The finished picture is nothing like they'd expected.
|
"Right. Well. That's ummm..."
Margot studied Vladula with the same still eyes she used to paint, but her expression curved downwards. She'd been assured there'd be no repercussions if the painting wasn't satisfactory, but.... how far can you trust an undead creature of the night?
"It might be the ink" she spoke with a slight waver
"No, no. It's not that at all" Vladula's fingers traced over the bottom of the painting, bringing a slight smudge to the words "Lord Vladula" at the bottom. "Didn't you think it was.... odd? The name?"
"Well, the whole thing is odd" Margot stepped back, "You didn't exactly go through the normal channels, did you? Getting commissions usually involves more emails and arguments about exposure"
"I don't like exposure, it's bad for my skin. That's why I turned up in the middle of the night"
Margot sighed, "I'm sorry that I couldn't paint something you liked"
"Oh, no, that's not it at all. In actual fact, I think it's a wonderful piece of art. It will fit nicely at the top of my staircase. Right next to uncle Evil Mordreera's picture"
"Wait" Margot took another step back, "Evil?"
"Evil was just his first name. He was gifted the painting by an orphanage he donated a large sum of money too"
Margot sighed, "Please, I know I'm going to regret this, but I need to ask. What's wrong with the painting?"
"I've had a lot of forms" Vladula's brow furrowed, "It's easy to lose track"
"If this one isn't your favourite, that's not..."
"No, no, I mean" Vladula turned to her, "How long have I been a woman for?"
|
"I'm beautiful," he says looking from the painting finally, his voice both soft and concussive.
"Yes, you are. Always." The artist feels sad at this. So much of his life spent running from this thing to find time and time again himself its victim. Here covered in paint another masterpiece created at its beck and call. Michele Angelo Merigi da Caravaggio trembles with exhaustion. The final dab of paint still wet and gleaming in the light of a hundred candles. Hot salty tears seep from his eyes. And the vampire waits for more adoration. He feels it waiting like the impossible thing he is. Dead. But there to do as it wishes. Black eyes glare hot in an alabaster face. A face still like carved marble. Deep pools of indigo pull at his soul waiting forever teasing him with the knowledge he is slave.
Caravaggio whispers, "I feel you in every inch of my bones. Your presence in the world motivates each stroke of my brush."
"And?" the boy-faced-man he has been told to call Bacchus toys.
"And I willfully offer" hoping this time the vampire frees him," my soul."
| 2019-11-18T02:47:46
| 2019-11-18T01:44:55
| 253
| 29
|
[WP] When they turn 14, every human gets an obscure super power with a lengthy description of it so they know what it is. But when yours arrives, it only says four words. “Don’t…
|
I remember it like it was yesterday. Maybe because it was, i don't know. Ever since they locked me into this pitch black room my sense of time has gone away. What i can say for sure is that it was my 14th birthday. Oh i was so excited. The day you turn 14 is the day you get your power. My entire life up until that point i was dreaming of that day. What id be like, what power id get, how life would be different after, and how id use my power to take over the world.
Other than it being my birthday everything was very normal. I woke up to the rich bitter smell of coffee in the morning. When i entered the kitchen my mom was sitting at the wooden table staring the chocolate cake on the table. On the cake in white lettering was "Happy Birthday! My Little Superhero". When my mom saw me her face lit up and she said,
"Do you know what today is?" I could tell she was joking so with a sly grin i said,
"No, is today special or something." We both laughed. As we were eating the cake my mom saw that her coffee was ready and got up. As she walked over i heard a knock on the door. My heart stopped. I dropped my fork. I took a deep breath. I looked over at my mom and she looked at me with nervous excitement. I got from my chair and waled to the door and opened it. Standing before was a man, no say a being with pitch black skin, no eyes and a wide grin its face. I knew what it was, everyone does. We call them Gift Givers. No one knows the origin of them all we know is that since the dawn of man The Gift Givers were their giving powers to us.
In the Gift Givers hand was a black envelope with a white x on it. It reached out its hand trying to give me the envelope and i took it. As i did that it started chuckling. It turned around and started walking away from my house. Its chuckle soon turned into a manic laugh as it walked farther and farther away. It creeped me out a little bit. I closed the door and went back into the kitchen. My mom was waiting at the table, her cup of coffee hadnt been drunk yet.
"Open it," she said.
I sat down at the table. I looked at the envelope, my hands were shaking. From this point on my life begins i thought to myself. Unbeknownst to me that would mark the end of my life.
I opened the envelope that seemingly pitch black. In it was a piece of paper that was also pitch black with whiter letter on it that read,
"Dont open your eyes"
"Huh?"
"What is it?" My mom said.
"It says dont open your eyes. What does that even mean?" My mom had a puzzled look on her face as she thought about it. then she said,
"why dont you try closing your eyes and see what happens?" Just then i closed my eyes. Immediately after that i heard voices screaming "Dont open your eyes!" They kept saying. The sound of someone cracking their knuckles filled the room. I could hear my mom make a quick gasp.
"Mom?" I opened my eyes and i started screaming. My moms head was rested on the table her neck was longer than normal. it was like someone spun her head around a million times. Her eyes were bulged and her face was purple. Just then people in white rushed into the kitchen. I think i was hit with a tranquilizer dart because when i woke up i was in this room. Theres a speaker somewhere in this room. A robotic voice told me that i was what was known as a an unstable variant. It didnt really explain what that meant it just said that it was unsafe for me to be allowed to be amongst other people. Since then ive just in this room. Sometimes the loud voices come back to me. Yelling DONT OPEN YOUR EYES!
​
Please tell me everything wrong with how i wrote this and what i can do to get better.
|
“Don’t use your power.”
Those four words punched me harder in the gut than Carl did at the playground yesterday. This was the one thing I’ve been looking forward to. The sole solution to all my problems, turning me from nobody into someone worthy of a little attention and a lot more respect.
Instead, there were those four mocking words.
“Don’t use your power.”
No lengthy explanations. I’ve seen the ones my parents showed me. Dad’s explained in detail about how hair loss will increase his strength, including mathematical equations that explained in detail the extent of his potential power. He still has a surprisingly full head of hair, however, which might explain why no hero agency ever came knocking.
Mom gained brief bursts of superspeed only on Tuesdays, right after hearing a clock striking twelve times, for twelve seconds. She said it made the decision to go grocery shopping or run errands far easier on Tuesdays.
Me? Nada. Zilch. Just… don’t use my powers.
“Why,” I whispered to myself, clutching the almost-blank letter in my hand. I wanted to burn it to a crisp. Throw it out the window.
I stared at my hands, clenching them into tights fists. What could happen if I just disobeyed the letter? If I just started using my powers right there and then, who was going to stop me from doing so? I’ll just pretend I was illiterate. After banging my head on the walls so many times, some self-inflicted and some not, it was almost certain that I’ve lost quite a few brain cells along the way.
I crushed the paper completely, depositing it into the waste bin before heading outside, plopping myself down on the front lawn. I looked up into the clear blue sky, watching grey clouds rolling in, latecomers to a pity party.
“No explanation,” I murmured. “Maybe it’s powerful. So powerful that even they were afraid of me releasing it.”
I closed my eyes. I recalled what my parents used to say. The powers were strange, esoteric, and specific, but they could always feel that it was coming. It was a boiling inside you, churning water desperately trying to find an escape path.
All you had to do was to let it out. It was a part of me, after all.
I looked inward. I swam, deep down, holding my breath. It was abstract, but it was the best I’ve got—if nobody else was going to tell me what to do.
So I dived. Dug. Deeper and deeper, until I felt a wailing wind buffeting me. That was undeniably power! There was so much. It frothed and bubbled doggedly, more like magma under a volcano than a quiet creek.
I grasped it. Pulled it out triumphantly, holding it up like a trophy. I’ve never held one before, and even a pretend one brought a smile to my face.
The heat continued to build. Bubble, froth, and well within me. I felt sweat dripping from every pore. I started cackling, delirium settling in.
This was power. It was as sure as the Sun. And now I knew why it ran away, sending the clouds to shield its own eyes. It was afraid! There was to be a new star, shining bright, exploding onto the scene.
I coughed and hacked. It was filling my lungs. My airways. Rushing towards my mouth, and I belched out a loud boom.
I heard something click.
There wasn’t even time for one last thought.
Then, an explosion burst forth from within, engulfing me entirely.
---
r/dexdrafts
| 2022-05-08T10:30:53
| 2022-05-08T10:04:14
| 48
| 22
|
[WP] While FTL-Travel is possible, FTL-Communication is not. This means that interstellar communication has to run through couriers, but also that the job of courier is as dangerous as it is profitable. Your latest contract has the biggest bonus you have ever seen, while looking comparatively easy.
|
We received an order for a delivery. This may not seem remarkable in and of itself, but what was unusual about this particular request was its relatively short distance--about three light years--but paying at a rate for a delivery over hundreds of light-years. It made one wonder if there was another drawback to the job, but if there was, the one that had requested the delivery didn't disclose it.
I was chosen to make this delivery. It was a box full of documents.
Physics is is a funny thing: while it was possible for space-filling matter such as couriers and vessels and boxes to travel faster than the speed of light, electromagnetic signals cannot, for the simple reason that light cannot go faster than light.
"Why don't they just transmit all this information the old-fashioned way--by radio?" I asked the dispatcher. "Why pay hundred-light-year rates for a three light-year job? I've looked at the package. It can't be more than 50 pounds. It's not like there's a whole bunch to transmit. And we have retransmitters along the route. Sure, they might have to wait three years to get the info--"
"It's a little more than that," the dispatcher corrected me. "More like five years."
"That's pretty much how long they're going to have to wait for me to bring it over," I said.
The dispatcher shrugged. "They paid for the delivery," he said. "And we've got to make it. And you're gonna see a nice delivery bonus for yourself."
I secured the package inside the hold of the vessel. Then I made my way to the cockpit. The FTL tech that we were using involved no propulsion of any kind, so I didn't have to sit down or buckle up. It was like we were being teleported to the destination. And in a sense, we were.
To me, the total time spent in transit would last no more than five seconds, but the recipients will have seen five years go by. What's so special about this information that it needs to travel this far, and everyone has to wait five years to get it? I wondered. I felt silly asking that question because I could be asking that about every delivery.
When I made all the necessary preparations--laying in a course, orienting the vessel toward the direction of our destination--I put my hand to the throttle that would activate the FTL drive. I pushed the throttle to the wall.
When I arrived, first I checked to make sure I still existed. As silly as that may sound, it was a standard procedure to verify that the transport was successful. With all signs affirming the integrity of my person and that it did not disintegrate into particles strewn across the universe, I went down into the hold to retrieve the box of documents. The bay doors opened and I stepped out.
I was at the spaceport that served as the hub for interstellar deliveries. All I needed to do was walk it over to receiving, scan it, and drop it off.
As I made my way there, I was suddenly ambushed by armed men.
They knocked me over, and I dropped the box. As they bound my hands behind my back, one of them went over to the box and tore off the lid. He grabbed the documents that were inside. He kept rifling through the papers, becoming more and more agitated.
"They're blank!" he finally said. "They're all blank!" He showed the empty pages to the rest of them.
One of them with the look and bearing of a leader rushed over to see. He dumped the rest of the contents of the box and slammed it on the ground.
"This delivery was a decoy!" he said. "They've been sending the real message by radio! We've got to see if there were any receivers listening in."
And the armed men left me there with my hands bound behind me.
|
"Hey Kazzaak, what do you think of this?"
I began to look over the contract that Jerry, our teams weapons and repair expert, handed me. It had the telltale markings of the federation, it's white and orange insignia shining on the page.
"Why don't you ask Cap?" I clicked. "Or Mannon, that walking cloud of microbots is quite literally a million times smarter than me, being apart of a collective and all"
"Well Caps currently selling everything that isn't nailed down to buy a pre ignitor and a flack cannon, and Mannon is trying to get him to forgo the cannon so we DON'T blow up if we hit an asteroid. So then I...."
As Jerry went on some rant, I began to read the contract. It seemed simple enough, just make it to the homeworld of humanity and inform them of incoming rebel forces. We were already ferrying critical information to the front lines of a massive battle, and we wouldn't have to go far out of our way.
"And then Charles told me to ask you, so what's it say?" "We just have to go to Sol-86c, and warn them of a few rebels." "And what would we be paid?" "Let me check." I said as I continued reading, aloud for my stone compatriot. "If you choose to accept this mission, you will be rewarded with 100 scrap, and.. that has to be a typo" One thousand federation credits, the ship I was currently standing in was worth half of that before the rebellion, when it was a museum piece "One thousand federation credits"
It was at that moment, our captain returned. "What was that? Have you been holding out on me Kazzaak?" "No, Feds sent you a contract" While it was true that I hadn't exactly been "Honest" when reporting where my plunder was across the galaxy, but I digress.
As I watched the most money hungry man I had seen in all my days as a thief read that contract, I knew we were going to Sol-86c, Cap would only see this as free, easy money.
I knew better.
Even the simplest bounties had a hundred caveats and complications, Hell, that's how I wound up on this ship, a simple contract on a Kestrel Cruiser
While the rest of the crew celebrated our fortune,
I just wondered how this would go wrong
"This is gonna Vekin SUCK"
Part two will come out when I feel like writing it
| 2022-09-25T12:59:51
| 2022-09-25T12:53:41
| 192
| 49
|
[WP] Diagnosed with schizophrenia. Since birth, 24/7 you’ve heard the voice and thoughts of a girl that you’ve been told is made up in your head. You’re 37 and hear the voice say “turn around, did I find you?” and you turn to see a real girl who’s heard every thought you’ve ever had and vice versa.
|
"Turn around, did I find you?"
I froze. *What the fuck?*
"Don't be afraid."
Strangers bumped past my shoulders, struggling to get past me. Like a rock in a fast-bubbling brook, I remained fixed to the subway floor. I tried to calm my thoughts. She could hear all of them, after all.
But curiosity and sheer impulse took over soon enough - she'd invaded my every waking moment. I fought back, but desire forced my neck to turn, slowly.
Behind me, I saw a girl, possibly around 27 or so, staring back at me.
"Is it you?" her voice rang through my head, her lips unmoving.
*Yes.*
A grin spread across her face. Suddenly, a flash of panic spread through me. What if she was going to kill me? Destroy the voice in her head?
"Don't be ridiculous! I would never do that."
I cursed myself in my head, before realising she could hear that too. I felt more exposed than ever.
She sighed.
"Don't be afraid. It's okay. Way I see it, we have a special bond. I think, somehow, fate brought us together."
I raised an eyebrow. A man in an orange coat pushed past me angrily.
"Get outta the way, pal!"
I remembered where I was and quickly took a seat on a nearby bench. She did the same, still looking at me triumphantly.
"You see, I was in New York for a conference, but I heard your thoughts and, well, I know you were headed here for a family reunion too."
I nodded.
"I thought I'd come and find you. It was easy enough - you tend to think while you read, so when you read the subway signs I knew where you were headed."
I nodded again, somewhat sheepishly this time. There was a long pause, filled with the fairly loud hustle and bustle of commuters on their way to work, punctuated by the screeching of trains and blaring announcements.
We just looked at each other, lost in each other's eyes. For the first time, neither of us was thinking anything. Silence in our heads. Peace.
"...well, what now?" I said softly.
"I don't know," she said simply, shifting her gaze to the floor.
"Look. Just now, we were both silent. For the first time for as long as I can remember, there was peace. And we both know each other pretty well, don't we?"
She chuckled. "Maybe a bit too well," she mused.
"Well, I don't know how to say this, but..."
Her eyes lit up and a cheeky grin grew on her face.
"You've already heard it, haven't you?" I smiled.
*Yes.*
We got up and climbed the stairs up to the light. By the time the sun kissed our skin with its warmth, we were holding hands and headed to the nearest cafe.
I used to think that she was a curse, but now it's becoming clear. We had something nobody else in the world had; a deep, inexplicable connection that couldn't be explained. I don't know how this is going to work, but this feels right.
Just as I was about to vocalise my thoughts, she caught me in a smile.
*Ah. I forgot you can hear me. This is weird.*
"We'll get used to it."
I squeezed her hand and we walked along the pavement, wet and shining with the sunset's colours, reflected on the stone.
|
She has always been there for me. She has always been honest with me.
When I was 4 years old, she told me Mr Bunny had been saying mean things about me. I threw him in the bin. My mother was upset she said why did I throw away my favourite toy. I said he's not my favourite any more.
When I was 6, she taught me what violence was. I drew a picture of violence in my class at school. The teacher was upset with me and told me I was wrong. Everything I've learned of life since then assures me I was right.
When I was 13 she told me that Gary in my class wanted to kiss me. I walked over to him and kissed him first and it was warm and wet and weird.
When I was 15 she told me not to tell anyone what uncle Paul likes me to do with the video camera. She said they wouldn't understand, and I was getting too old for it anyway.
When I was 21 she was all I could see and all I could hear. I asked her for some time alone. I bought some flowers for myself but forgot to buy a vase to put them in. I rested them in a pint glass and didn't leave the house as I watched them slowly shrivel over the next week.
When I was 25 she came back and I felt a shiver down my spine and I don't know if it was bad or good, but I didn't want to ask her to go away again. So she stayed.
When I was 26 she told me that I needed to die so she could live. She told me what to do with the gun.
My heart stopped for 30 seconds at the hospital. They told me I would be able to talk again with rehabilitative therapy, but that I would be disfigured for life. They told me she wasn't real. I was diagnosed with schizophrenia, and given a lot of pills to take regularly. They brought me peace. I didn't see her again in a long time.
When I was 37 I heard a familiar voice behind me, and felt a shiver down my spine. "Turn around, did I find you?" Her speech was slurry and lisped the same way mine was after the incident.
I turned around slowly. She hadn't aged a day the whole time I'd known her, but this time half her face was grotesque and scarred the same way mine was, except the opposite half. She touched me on the arm, and I knew she was real this time.
I was hers again.
| 2019-09-14T11:28:36
| 2019-09-14T11:01:10
| 74
| 16
|
[WP] The year is 2030, and the entire world is firmly under the control of the Australian Empire, and no one really understands how it happened.
|
The last try had just been scored. The Queen let out a tear, then ordered Prince Phillip to shoot her, before the "colonial dogs and dregs got to her." Twickenham was on fire. Rioting was breaking out. The Wallabies had just finished conquering the known world.
Lets rewind a few years.
The Trans Pacific Partnership, a massive legalese document meant to do certain things, then cancerously tumoured into something else. Certain things about "investor state disputes" and various intellectual property agreements.
This was the beginning of the end. Many treaties like this spanned every country on the world map.
It started slowly. Countries were on guard against technology and pharmaceutical firms. Against Basketball and Soccer companies. But nobody expected the Australians to use Rugby. There was a series of landmark court cases which revealed a number of damning truths:
1. That no country could legally refuse to play Rugby against Australia.
2. That the intellectual property penalties were so high that infringing them would immediately bankrupt any country.
3. That a "competitive match for the assets of an organisation" counted as a legally binding wager.
When Australia played Rugby against your national side, you were wagering your entire sporting IP. When you lost, it was now owned by Australia. However, historical infringements totalled into the quadrillions of dollars and now Australia owned your country.
It started with Japan. The US fell early. Asia Pacific went under although Fiji, Tonga and Samoa were placed under blockade until their players succumbed to famine. Africa was easy going apart from the Springboks, til a final, 50 minutes of overtime, sudden death with four actual deaths games in Pretoria ended with a single drop kick.
The Americas fell, unable to scrounge anyone better than Argentina. Asia just surrendered. Europe was the last bastion. A hard fought campaign was launched from Eastern Europe, with Russia trusting to a Siberian winter to slow the Wallabies down. No dice.
Sweeping down over Germany, the Australians were stumped by the neutral Swiss, who in a cunning plan had blown up all their sports grounds, the scheming French who were unable to field an injury free team for five years (STDs were ruled as legal reasons not to play), and the Italians, who couldn't commit to a single time.
But eventually two of them fell and the Swiss were ignored.
Spain was on a Siesta, and the Ireland got shamrock and rolled. Wales put up a stunning defence, but the Dragon was slain. Scotland came with kilts and claymores, but despite slaughtering 50 Wallabies under a creative interpretation of the rules, still lost the game.
The Last Bastion: England. Twickenham, the Home of Rugby. The Lions vs the Wallabies. Queen Elizabeth the Second's mechasuit was there, and she played her heart out, literally, before being subbed to have her remaining organic components operated on. The English and the Aussies had a blistering game. High scoring, action packed and dramatically close. With 30 seconds to go, the Aussies got a final Try, giving them a 2 point lead at 80 minutes.
Australia now controlled the world. And so it lasted for decades.
Australia schools flourished under the one world Rugby government. Sciences and Arts grew. Health increased massively, and a race of supermen and women appeared. Everything was going fine. Nobody was disappearing at the hands of the secret police. There was no talk of a "blacked out nation". Everything was good. By law.
Let us move forward in history. 2099. Australia has controlled the world for nearly 70 years. The conquest is taught in schools. Heavily sanitised for the children of course. Bazza Bazzason was sitting in class, looking through some old books. Atlases from before the Uniting. Curious at the comparison, he took it to his teacher. "Miss, what's this country here?" The teacher looked over, then, in shock, as she was secretly an agent for the ministry of truth, grabbed a Vivid and scrubbed over the offending atlas with black ink.
"Bazza, that's not a country that exists. It was an error. We know now that it's just water there." The lie to a child was easy. The lie to herself was harder. Black Vivid. A Blacked Out Country. Black Bagging for talking about it. Black Sites. And yet, these were not the fearful things. The country really did exist. The single country that the Wallabies had been unable the conquer. Maybe it was prophetic that their warriors were called 'the Originals', 'the Invincibles'. They had a terrifying stance, and fearful intimidation rituals.
From the blacked out country they came: The All Blacks.
|
September 4, 2030. The 24th anniversary of Steve Irwin's death. What a great time to be alive as an Australian. In 2006, when Steve Irwin was killed, the Australian government lost their most valuable asset in World Domination. For years the Australian people have wanted revenge on the world for sending their ancestors to this god-forsaken land. The years following Steve's death were a rough time for Australia. We had increasing incidents of kangaroo attacks, cane-toad infestation, and high-cost goods and services. It was safe to say that it was a shit-hole during this time. It wasn't until the 2028 election when Hugh Jackman was somehow elected prime minister by popular vote. The people were tired of the country's situation and wanted some immediate change. Nothing had been working for years and many people were calling for political reform. Prime Minister Jackman won with his amazing policies that he stated were derived from his knowledge of Hollywood business. Considering the success of President Trump and President Reagan, the people decided that maybe Prime Minister Jackman could actually save them.
After his election, he quickly began bringing his ideas to life. He wanted exactly what the rest of Australia wanted: revenge. Although the idea was shared, the idea that Jackman had in mind was unbelievable. During speeches Jackman had frequently joked about taking over the world as a way to seek revenge. Nobody thought that he had literally wanted to take over the world! People had thought he had an economic takeover planned. Why would they think otherwise when he was constantly bragging about his great business ideas and good looks? In his mind, there was only one way to get the revenge that he wanted. He had to overthrow the most powerful country in the world. The United States of America.
It was not evident how he was going to do this for his first year of power. Many people were upset at his frequent visits to the United States for "business trips", and his lack of ability to get anything done in the country. Once word of the goofball got to the rest of the world, memes started being made about Jackman and his corruption. With no way to remove him from power, the people sat helplessly waiting for the next federal election.
It wasn't until August 16th, 2029, when TMZ released a paparazzi video filmed outside of Jackman's Miami beach house which showed Prime Minister Jackman and President Trump in a bedroom together without any clothes. When word got out, it was time. Soon the announcement was broadcast over all American and Australian media that the United States of America and the Commonwealth of Australia would be merging in to the Australian Empire. Prime Minister Hugh Jackman quickly announced President Ivanka Trump as his Deputy Prime Minister and their quest for revenge began.
I can't really say that electing Hugh Jackman was a bad idea. Australians having the entire world to themself with all of those bloody foreigners stuck on that wasteland of an island isn't too bad after all.
| 2017-02-14T11:56:22
| 2017-02-14T10:32:54
| 635
| 44
|
[WP] You hate your boring call centre job. Every day idiots call you up with stupid questions they could easily figure out themselves. Yes you have to shoot them in the head. No there is no cure if you're bitten. It's a few years now into the zombie apocalypse and this is the Call Centre of the Dead
|
*Ring ring.*
"HELP! The zombies are right behind me and-"
"Good morning, Tracy speaking. Have you tried turning it off and on again?"
"The-the what?"
"Your gun safety. Big black dial on the side of your rifle. Can't miss it."
"What? What dial?"
"You are holding a CCD rifle? If you are a customer of SurvivorLink I'm afraid you'll have to call them instead."
"No. Yes. I'm CCD."
"Excellent. Now if you-"
"Hold on."
The crack of rifle-butt on skull thudded through the phone speaker.
"Die! Die! Ok, Tracy I think I see what you're talking about."
*Flick.*
*BANG. BANG. BANG.*
"Haha! Gotcha, ya rotten fleshbags! Thanks a bunch, Tracy."
"That's great to hear. Have a nice day, sir. Please leave a review if you're satisfied with your experience. My manager would appreciate it."
*Click*.
*Ring Ring.*
"Oh my God. They're in my house what do I do?!"
"Good morning, Tracy speaking. Have you tried-"
"They've got Joe. Oh my god they've got Joe. Send help! I need help right now!"
"Sure thing, ma'am. I'll put you down right away."
The riffle of a notebook flipping to page 324. A click of a ballpoint pen.
"Your name ma'am?"
"Ahhh! They've reached the kitchen! Uh, my name's Gladis."
"Oh, my mom's name's Gladis. How lovely. And your contact number, Gladis? Either mobile or landline is fine."
"Uh. 0-4-2-1- Ahh! They've breached the door! Uh. 3-1-6-8- Ahh! They've got my leg!"
The scribbling of pen on paper stopped as heavy breathing replaced the voice on the speaker.
"Oh God. It's black. It's all going black."
"I'm sorry to hear that, Gladis. If you're satisfied with your experience please leave a review. Have a nice day."
*Click.*
*Ring ring*.
"Is this the Call Centre of the Dead?"
"Good morning, Tracy speaking. Yes, this is CCD."
"Good. Good. I need you to listen carefully and calmly, Tracy. I've done it. I've created the cure. Now I need you to patch me to the CEO. I'll send him the formula and we're gonna save the frikken world."
"Hi, sir. I regret to inform you CCD does not accept unsolicited advice."
"What? It's the goddamn cure for this this hell! Just send me the frik through!"
"Sir, I can redirect you to my manager if you would like."
"Okay. Fine."
A plastic chair scraped against corporate carpet. Then more scraping and a *plonk*.
"Sorry, he's out for lunch. Is there anything else I can help you with?"
"What? What the fu... Look. What's the email address of your R&D department?"
"I'm afraid our email servers are full, sir. Part of the reason company policy rejects unsolicited advice now. We do accept fax though, the number is on our website."
Mumbled curses filtered through the headset.
"Fine. I'll do it. I'm sending it through now. Let me know when you've got it. I need that document in the hands of your head scientist pronto."
Tapping on the side of the fax machine. Then kicking. *Bzzzzzz.*
"Yup, got it. Lovely diagrams. My name's Tracy, have a nice day."
*Click.*
*Whish*. Rattle of a trashcan.
r/bobotheturtle
|
"Good morning. Call centre of the dead. How may I help you today?"
"Dude come on. I've been on hold for ten minutes now. I..."
"Yeah, we're having a high call volume today." We weren't really. I got good price on turnips so I just had to.
"Ok, so I'm stuck in a grocery store and "
"Sorry to interrupt you sir. Can you confirm a few things for me first?"
"Yeah, OK. But just hurry up, yeah?"
"Sure sir. OK so I am talking to Wilbur Smith. You are located at 45 Lakeshore."
"Yes. That's correct. So there's these two..."
"Hang on sir. I also want to confirm your protection policy number. You bought the extended plan on security. The policy number is 23453758."
"23457358."
"Sorry sir?"
"It's 23457358."
"Yes sir. That's what I said."
"No you said... never mind. You have it correct now, right?"
"Yes sir. 23453758. OK so..."
"No. Wait. It's 23457358."
"Sorry sir, what was that? There was some disturbance on the phone and I didn't get you. Can you please move to an area with slightly less disturbance."
"I would if I could. But there's zombies everywhere. You have to help me."
"Yes sir. Absolutely. So under your policy number 23457358, you are entitled to unlimited phone support. Plus limited on site help."
"Yes I know."
"Ok sir. So what's your problem?"
"Zombies. They are everywhere. I am surrounded."
"Ah, I see. So where are you exactly?"
"I'm at a grocery store."
"What grocery store sir?"
"Longo's. Near Bay and University intersection."
"Ah, I know that one. There's still some good stuff there."
"Yeah, that's what I thought. But then I came here and it's insane."
"Right sir. So are you in a secure place right now?"
"Yes, I managed to get an office of sorts and close the door. But they are out there, banging on the door."
"I see. Can you share what material you have with you?"
"Nothing much. A few papers. Some office supplies. An old computer. Ah, I have a stapler too."
"Staplers, unlike the movies are rather useless in these scenarios sir. Are you a smoker sir? Do you have a lighter?"
"Yes. I do have a lighter. I know I know it's not good for me. But time's are stressful and this helps."
"Sure. Understandable. OK let me just put you on hold."
"Oh come on."
"Sir, we do need a moment to check on this. I will be right back."
I checked the my game again. Shit. Missed out on some good stuff. Oh well. I quickly checked the records from the building. Once I had what I needed, I was back on the phone again.
"Hello. Thanks for holding. So unfortunately, your plan doesn't cover on site support at that location. You are just out of the coverage area by a few blocks."
"Damn it. So what now?"
"Well, we'll help you get out. I need you to throw the computer on the ground and plug it in. We're gonna shock these motherfuckers."
I guided Wilbur to the next steps. I helped him to escape into the vents. Like Die hard was how he put it. He used a lighter to activate the smoke sensors and activating the water sprinklers. The active power line from the computer sent a massive electric surge across the floor, zapping the zombies. It gave him enough time to escape.
Hopefully.
"Wilbur, thank you for calling CCoD. We are always happy to help. If you make it out of here alive, don't forget to tell us how we did. You will get an automated link to send feedback. Thanks again for calling and have a nice day."
| 2020-05-12T07:25:12
| 2020-05-12T06:42:59
| 1,637
| 627
|
[WP] You are legally allowed to commit murder once, but you must fill out the proper paperwork and your proposed victim will be notified of your intentions
|
It's a small act of defiance. I don't think it will change the law. But maybe, I can save a few lives. Maybe I can scare a few people out of line. My hand shakes as I write.
_____
**Form 10-95**
**Sanctioned Murder Registration**
Murderer: */u/thefonztm*
Victim: *The next registrant*
|
I released a deep sigh as I lifted the still smoking barrel of my handgun to my lips, giving it a brief kiss. It was, by far, the most sound investment I'd ever made. After placing it on the table and stepping over the would-be assassin's body I approached the closet nearest my door to don my jacket: the black leather, I had decided two days ago when I received the notice that yet another would be coming to make an attempt on my life. At least with this one I'd had an idea as to when he'd be coming, and the timing couldn't be any more perfect. However, I had to keep my priorities in mind. I pulled my cell from my pocket and dialed Julie, my girlfriend. She had been on edge since I received the notice and she always hated it when I forced her to stay away from me until it was dealt with. I approached the desk and began to scan over the other document I'd received two days prior as the rings began to come across the line. I couldn't even begin to guess how many times I'd read it already, but one more time couldn't hurt.
*The selected individual will be notified once approval has been received. If you opt in, you may be notified via SMS when they have been informed.*
Two rings, and then her voice came over the phone as she answered. I could hear the relief in her voice as I continued scanning. "Is it done? Is it over? Are you alright?"
*Once you receive notice that the individual has been notified you are free to proceed with any methodology you see fit.*
"I'm fine, not even a scratch this time. I told you these morons don't stand a chance. Came crashing through the door, caught him with the hollow points as soon as he stepped around the corner."
"You were worried about this one. I could tell."
*However, you maintain liability for any damage caused to privately owned property.*
"That's why I rushed him. Didn't want him to have time to plan. Seems to have worked. How's my son doing?"
*The individual indicated may defend him or herself using any means legally available.*
"He's scared, but I'm sure he'll be much better once I give him the news."
*You may not kill others who attempt to defend the individual you have selected. They retain their rights to defend the individual and will not face sentencing for attempting to stop you if they are present at the time of the attempt.*
"Good." I put down the document, turning my attention to my computer monitor. A few clicks and I reached a map. Perhaps I was mistaken, but I could almost see the little red dot pacing back and forth within the apartment less than 15 minutes away. Checking my watch, I saw that it was now six o'clock PM. Her voice came over the phone again, "You have to do this. This is three times. As soon as she gets another boyfriend she's going to try and convince him, too." I released a deep sigh before responding, "I know. I can see her at home now." Standing up, I approached the corpse on my living room floor and removed his phone from his pocket. I glanced over his messages, paying careful attention to his format and spelling. I had to do this just right. I could hear the remorse in Julie's voice as she spoke. "I'm sorry you have to do this." Again stepping over the corpse I headed back to the bedroom to grab my rifle, texting from the dead man's phone along the way.
*its done showing police permit now ur son wasnt here*
I removed the rifle from the closet and pulled the bolt, chambering a round. I hadn't answered her, she knew I was dreading this. "Just remember, you're doing the right thing for your son."
*o thank god ur alright. we can pick him up from his bitch tomorrow. dinner to celebrate?*
"I know. I'll call you when it's done."
*good idea meet outside in 30*
| 2014-03-17T10:18:55
| 2014-03-17T06:28:23
| 37
| 17
|
[WP] You've been granted god-like powers under the condition that you must do as much evil as you do good.
|
"Well *shit*...." That phrase could be the only way to describe my frustration as I gazed at my work. The man could walk now, but one more child who would contract polio was born in India. If I tried to stop that, two kids would just lose their legs in a car accident in Brazil because some asshole was to busy with the hooker in the car going down the road.
Everytime I helped someone, no matter how minor, it always backfired. Each cancer patient cured was just another child starving to death. Each lottery ticket won was a someone spiraling into suicidal depression over debt.
He wasn't kidding when He granted me these powers. I couldn't believe how indescribably infuriating it is to see everything you do become instantly insignificant. I wanted to help these people so much that it was *hurting*.
No wonder He was so absent in our affairs. This damned loophole in this power is exacerbating to my mind. For the miracles I create, the damned disasters are just as powerful.
There is one good perk though, I can throw my "divine wrath" anywhere and I don't have to worry about the balance. It is kind of liberating, but loses its charm after seeing the 1000th child wailing over his or her deceased mother's body only to see them grow up to be a force for change and good.
"Oh well." The one phrase I squeezed out each time my good was outdone. That's about all I can hope to muster anymore. Morbid curiosity has started to take the place of my altruism. Thoughts of what would happen to people if I threw floods and volcanoes at them. What good the disasters would reap. Would they develop better ways to save people from drowning in the wake of the floods? Would a billionaire donate to the relief fund and save the children in the area of the volcano?
I gazed on at my work and a small thought creeped up in my head and eeked from my mouth...
"I wonder what would happen if I threw a meteor at them..." A smirk sprung up to my mouth. I looked skywards and saw a small wink in the sky. I thought to myself on how the next 10 years were going to be interesting for people. At this I smiled and pondered on the size of the meteor coming.
|
These are the scribblings of mad man. Found in the wake of an event since referred to as ‘The Blessing’. A time when suffering, fear and death left our part of the world, if only for a short time.
**It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.**
I didn’t expect the consequences to be so immediate.
**It was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness.**
I thought i could control it, i thought i would get to choose.
**It was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity.**
For each action, a reaction. Each favor, a misdeed. Each life saved, a murder. Each soul redeemed, another damned.
**It was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness.**
I don’t know which is worse, to live with the horrors I’ve caused for a lifetime or to gaze, just for a moment, in to the good. To watch the perfect lives of those i once loved. Gifted with wealth, immortality, lurid pleasure. How can they not know the cost? How can they live when they cause such pain?
**It was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair.**
I can’t go on like this. Knowing that the evil was always here inside me.
**We had everything before us, we had nothing before us.**
The evil must end. The good must end. I must end. I’ve known this all along. And yet i waste time scribbling in books. I waste days, months, years. The pleasure and pain continue as long as i do.
**We were all going direct to Heaven, we were all going direct the other way.**
My cowardice wins out yet again.
No- Not this time.
| 2014-05-29T15:07:02
| 2014-05-29T15:05:23
| 85
| 15
|
[WP] You may write a story where the protagonist has a regular day BUT they must also die a horrific death at the end. But there is a twist: All stories after the 1st must begin with their protagonist seeing the protagonist of the previous story dying.
Keep everything canon ;)
( P.S: Sort by Old )
|
I awoke coughing my lungs out, there was a horrible cloud of dust covering my head as I brushed off small pieces of debris from my head, the dust still lingered no matter how much I swayed my arms about.
On either side of me were two cars with one that had come crashing down on top of them, luckily for me the other two cars had stopped it crushing my head to a pulp. There was a helicopter above with a fog light piercing through the dust, what had just happened? We were told to keep this place under quarantine, they never told us why though. Something horrible was happening, people were dying left right and center with no reasonable explanation. Their deaths could be explained but... today everybody was unlucky. Top officials had for some reason deemed this city of utmost importance and had immediately quarantined it, had they found something alien? what was that explosion? the mushroom cloud was green... nothing I'd seen before. Perhaps a military weapon prototype gone wrong?
I shuffled to my side and noticed a dead body, oh god... it was that guy I had just told to turn around, I felt bad about sending him away from his home but I couldn't show him that. I flinched away and scrambled to my feet before hitting my head on the car above, that freaking hurt. Another soldier was waiting for me out in the open as he grabbed my hands and helped to pull me out.
"Whats going on?" I asked him.
"Fuck knows, there was a giant explosion from the cities Walmart. They're sending soldiers in now, I heard gunfire earlier but that promptly stopped. They're sending more in now... you should have stayed unconscious." Suddenly a crazed looking woman ran up to me and my new friend, she was shouting some gibberish.
"Help me! help me!" she screamed at me.
"ma'am calm down what is the matter?" I asked her.
"They're... I'm a therapist and I ... I was with one of my patients and then... then her husband came in all crazy eyed with a knife and murdered her! I ... I managed to escape then this huge explosion happened and I... green eyed zombie human things started chasing me!" She finally stopped talking, what was she going on about? She started gagging, was she choking? Falling to her knees she puked up some green bile looking stuff and looked up at me, she smiled as her eyes turned a glazy green with black pulsing streaks. She charged at me and started biting at my face, jesus fucking crap that hurt! my new friend shot her in the head.
"Thanks man." I said turning to him, "You saved my fucking life I..." He looked at me funny, "Whats wrong?" I asked.
He drew his pistol in the blink of an eye and shot me square in the head.
___
I had to merge the last two stories together since they were so close to each other I didn't know which one to go off on.
more stories at /r/inooxwritings
|
*Well it looks like I answered a bit later than /u/Vestroyax... I'll keep this here but you guys should continue off his story instead of mine*
*****
Jim eased off the clutch, shifting as his Civic pulled away from the stoplight and onto the main thoroughfare. He hit the gas, accelerating to double the speed limit. It was still night, and the streets were empty. There were no birds chirping, children traveling to school, or even the occasional horn in the distance.
He was tired. The consulting firm where he worked rarely made him go overtime, and this sudden phone call took him by surprise. A large software project he'd been working on had failed in production, and that meant immediate work. The boss wanted them all back in the office within twenty minutes.
Yes, even if it was five in the morning. Even after a party at Barbara's house, where he'd drunk a fair amount and got home at three. He'd taken a few pills to ease the hangover, and he was happy there was no traffic on the road.
Ahead of him, lights flashed. There was a railroad crossing, and freight trains often left in the early morning to prevent stopping up traffic.
Jim was completely exhausted by then. His mind slipped in and out of consciousness, and the flashing red meant nothing to him. The Civic swayed left and right, oblivious to his drunkenness. It hit the metal barrier, breaking it, and jammed against the second barrier with a sickening crunch. Steam leaked from the cracked radiator as the airbags knocked Jim out.
He wasn't awake to notice to bright headlamp of the locomotive glaring into his eyes, followed by the blaring air horn. The engineer hit the brakes, but the heavy train still smashed into the Civic at forty miles an hour.
The vehicle bounced hard, its left side completely flattened. It fell hard into a ditch as the train finally ground to a halt. By the time a passing motorist had arrived, Jim's body was completely unrecognizable. The metal body had enclosed him like a coffin, smashing his bones to bits and covering the dashboard with gore. A fire sparked from the leaked fuel, forcing the bystanders to move back.
Standing outside his locomotive, the engineer turned to look at the carnage, and slowly shook his head.
| 2017-05-06T09:06:40
| 2017-05-06T07:54:14
| 46
| 13
|
[WP] This is a special post that I'm asking for your help with. Rather than the standard asking for a story, my fiancee and I would like your help writing our wedding vows.
**Edit: My fiancee and I looked through all the submissions, along with our Maid of Honor and Best Man. We unanimously selected /u/paashpointo's post not only for its simple elgance, but in keeping with our decorum. As promised, I awarded gold. We greatly appreciate /u/paashpointo's contribution to our ceremony, along with everyone else who took an interest in this post, either by submitting or simply by offering best wishes. Thank you to everybody.**
http://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/21nfpv/wp_this_is_a_special_post_that_im_asking_for_your/cgeqxw4
--Original--
So, as the title states, I'm looking for someone who will write wedding vows for my fiancee and I. I spoke with the mods to make sure that this was OK, so here goes.
The officiant for our ceremony offered my fiancee and I several generic, stock vows to be read at our wedding. We weren't big fans, because while we want a traditional ceremony, we also want unique touches to it as well. So after discussion (including that both of us are terrible writers ourselves), we decided to involve the Reddit community as it is an important part of my life in many ways - it only seems right that, in one way or another, it is involved in our wedding. After describing the purpose of this sub in particular and my being impressed by much of the work I have seen here, my fiancee agreed that it would be fun to do this.
I want to provide some (non-identifying) information about my fiancee and I and see what magic this community can produce. So here goes.
First, I want to make clear that these will be the type of vows which the officiant will be reading and we will be repeating, so there is no need for personalization which would require further details, and the format would be such that it could be broken into pieces small enough for our anxiety-ridden minds to repeat back. The biggest problem that I had with the generic vows are the "richer or poorer, in sickness and in health" parts... it just seems like phrases like that have become so cliche as to become meaningless.
My fiancee (30F) and I (32M, 33 when we marry) will be marrying at the end of August of this year. She has a child (10F) from a previous relationship, and we have a child together (2F). At the time of our wedding, we will have been together for 4 years.
While our wedding does not have a specific theme, it could be described as "family of friends" - both of us are closer to our friends than we are to much of our families.
We are both non-religious - she is agnostic, I am atheist but spiritual. God, the Creator, or other religious references will not be included in our ceremony at any point, other than a moment of silence to recognize those that have passed away that we wish could be there to see us (grandparents, passed friends, etc.).
Our relationship, when not interfered with by the travails of life, could best be described as playful. While the vows are intended to be serious in intent, light joking would not be at all inappropriate. And while both of us are romantics in the idealistic sense, neither of us like the thick, syrupy lovey-dovey junk that you hear most of the time. Both of us reject strict traditionalism (clearly, since I'm here writing this) but believe *very* strongly in close ties to those we love - as noted before, that includes family *and* friends. Both of us believe that life is only worth living if you enjoy it - we don't identify ourselves by our careers and chose them because we love what we do, not because they will make us rich or famous. We are mostly homebodies, partly because of the aforementioned travails of life, but also because we enjoy each other's company enough that we just don't really feel the need to go elsewhere.
To those interested in helping us, but would like extra information about us or have any questions about us before you write, please feel free to PM or comment (comments subject to Reddiquette and sub rules of course).
The vows we choose will be selected by our family (excluding the 2yo) with input from our wedding party. I can't and won't give a definitive date for our decision, but I will reply directly to the /u/'s comment and send a PM to them as soon as a decision has been made.
To anyone who responds to this post, I appreciate your effort in advance. While I don't contribute to this sub, I lurk it frequently and am impressed by the quality of work here. I look forward to seeing what you can produce for my fiancee and I.
Lastly, the winner will most decidedly and deservedly receive Reddit Gold.
Thank you!
|
I, John,
take Jane,
into a lifelong bond,
founded on a mutual love, respect and understanding,
and always dedicated to the cause of good,
for the betterment of our family and friends,
both as individuals and united as one,
through the pains of growth and the trials of change,
to strengthen, complement and support each other,
with humility, courage and the fruits of our love,
and an understanding of the very nature of the world in which we live,
and our places within it.
|
THANK YOU FOR VISITING beautifulhandwrittenletters.com
*Please find your newly handwritten letters in your preferred format*:
"**uh, normal computer text I guess.**"
-
Darling one.
With these words, pulled from the nameless writers on the internet, I thank you for choosing me, for choosing joy and wellness on this day, and every other day after.
I offer you my love, my heart and body, through life's perilous journey, as one and as many.
Against the scourge of the lizard people.
As a family.
--
[I couldn't resist. I am sorry.] [I'm not really sorry.]
Seriously though, best of luck. May you have a wonderful and happy wedding day, and even happier days after that.
| 2014-03-29T04:36:44
| 2014-03-29T00:46:50
| 19
| 12
|
[WP] You live in a swamp, and your mama always told you "never go chasing any girls in the water at night, they're mermaids who'll get in your head and make you love them obsessively." It turns out that she wasn’t crazy, since you can clearly see a mermaid in the distance fighting off an alligator.
|
Mama's words echo in your head as you watch the confrontation from your pier. The gator is large, but still looks fairly young, and the girl-creature is holding her own. Claws and fangs barred, sharp enough to draw blood from the alligator's thick hide. She doesn't seem to notice you watching her. You take a sip of your beer.
It almost looks like the alligator is getting the upper hand, throwing its weight around. There's a huge splash, thrashing, and you can hear the sound of the gator's powerful jaws snapping shut, following immediately by enraged hissing from the mermaid. She looks more pissed than hurt as she flips, getting her claws into the beast's mouth. Prying it open.
You raise your eyebrows and take another chug of beer, impressed.
The creature keeps prying, forcing the alligators maw open further and further, hissing the whole time. The gator thrashes, attempts to death roll and fails, let's out the most guttural roar you've ever heard come from the jaws of a beast. And then, with a sickening crack you feel in your own bones, the mermaid rips the gator's jaw off, and the beast goes still. Red mixes with the brown and green of the water around them.
The mermaid sits for a moment, continuing to hiss at the dead beast in from of her. You take another sip of beer and then tip it towards her.
"Can I have that?" You call out across the swamp. The creature startles, yellow eyes whipping towards you. Almost as if remembering herself, you watch as her features start to shift, claws becoming dainty hands, harsh, sharp fanged mouth changing to soft rosey lips, scales and skin becoming softer. She disappears under the water and seconds later appears off the pier beside you, dark slimy hair now soft and golden, once bright glowing yellow eyes now a soft blue.
"Didn't see you standing there," she speaks, voice soft and musical, no hint of the animalistic hissing from before.
"Didn't want to disturb you, you put on quite a show."
The creature blushes, fluttering dark eyelashes. "Well, that's embarrassing. That you had to see me like that." She reaches up to stroke your arm with soft hands.
"It shouldn't be. It was amazing to witness." She smiles shyly at that.
"What was it you said earlier?" She asks.
"Oh, I was wondering if I could have that alligator. I want to show it off."
The mermaid clocks her pretty head.
"I want to show it to my husband."
|
It was one of those moments that you couldn't look away from, you couldn't even blink, and you couldn't make a sound. You watched the waters ripple and splash along with the violent thrashing that came from the two intimidating creatures. One was a thick skinned bumpy brown and black alligator it's green eyes looked black and glinted with malice it's teeth gnashing with a vengeance and it's wide jaw that had always reminded you of a malicious grin felt foreboding. The mermaid was a splash of colors, it's murky grey hair was ridden with moss, plants and algae, their skin was a greyish green that shined and shimmered as they wrestled with the alligator, their eyes were green but the light of the sun made them look as if it was glowing yellow like a lantern in the night. Their tail was long sleek and was grey with splotches of different shades of dark green it didn't look smooth at all. The texture reminded you of sharks.
You're snapped back out of your admiring stupor when the mermaid's tail flails and hits you square on the chest knocking you back and pushing you into action. You scramble back to your feet flinching as each thrash of the large tail sent a wave of green water your way. The only thing you could think of grabbing was a rock, you spare it one glance and throw it as hard as you can in the direction of the writhing crocodile. Of course a simple rock doesn't affect the fight so again you try to find something that could help the mermaid but it turned out that it never did need help. The mermaid flung one clawed hand over the alligators mouth hugging it to a shut then ripping out its eyes with its sharp teeth. The alligator writhes even more desperately even more incensed by the pain or by the desperation of losing its sight it did not matter. Because the mermaid smashed its fist into the skull of the alligator and began to claw through the skin, the writhing and the thrashing was useless eventually the repeated blows and the gaping open wound that the creature dug into made the log like reptile still and the waves became ripples.
The mermaid whips its head around to look at you and you flinch at their alarming speed but nothing could make you run. There was a strange alien like beauty that came from the water creature, its bright green crocodile like eyes, its large sharp teeth, the arm that had a thin sleek fin and large black claws on each hand, and even the flat small nose and thick grey lips was mesmerizing to behold. It sank into the water it's eyes and the top of its dark hair were all you could see as they slowly made your way towards you. You couldn't help but kneel to get a closer look, to absorb all the details you were afraid you'd never see again.
"Hi-Hi..." You stammered arms quaking as the fear set in.
This was no fairytale and this was no story. It was you in a swamp with a creature that killed a crocodile with its bare hands and teeth and it was unscathed. What were you but another snack? Could they go into land? How fast did you have to run to be safe?
Although you were thinking all this you did not move. Your eyes were locked into their deep green reptilian ones. Eventually the mermaid's hand emerged and a small flash of fear went through you-were they going to claw your eyes out like it did the alligator? Nothing like it happened instead on the hand of the mermaid was a small regular rock.
"Oh-What? For me?" You said shakily taking the rock and you realized it was the same rock that you had thrown at the crocodile. It was not particularly memorable but you had just held it moments ago so its shape was no unfamiliar. "Thank-thank you... I guess..."
The mermaid's hand disappeared into the water and its eyes were still trained on you but you were sure it held no malice... it felt like... curiosity?
You summoned all your bravery urging yourself that there would never be another chance like this as you asked, "what's your name?"
The mermaid seemed to frown its eyebrows were thick and the same odd color of grey as their hair, the skin on their face looked as rough as their tail and their mouth seemed to jut outward. It reminded you of their bared teeth and their ferocity.
"Can you speak?" Again there was no answer only a small frown creasing their face.
Perhaps they could not speak, which made sense because they lived in a swamp and he doubted if they spoke to any other human.
The mermaid stopped looking into your eyes and instead noticed the shell that hung from a thin bit of abaca around your neck. They rose a bit from the water their nose above as they gazed at the nautilus shell. It had been a gift from your father from one of his many adventurous fishing trips in odd places. It was small barely the size of your palm. The mermaid rose again and touched the shell briefly but you flinched and it caused them to dash back into the water.
You couldn't help but to shout; "wait!" as the mermaid disappeared and the green murky water rippled.
You feared the loss of the beauty, of the ferocity and of the gaze of those reptile eyes and you clutched the rock it had returned.
If only you had the thought of taking your phone out you'd have some tangible memory of everything that had happened. But you did not and you doubted that you ever could.
| 2021-05-24T09:27:08
| 2021-05-24T07:46:26
| 76
| 21
|
[WP] You are the Chosen One. The Dark Overlord is currently trying to seduce you to their cause. To their great surprise, you accept almost immediately because you absolutely loathe your job and your companions.
|
Draxnor chewed on his upper lip. The Chosen One was mere meters away, her feet dangling off the pier as she stared into the sunset. She appeared to be whistling a quiet tune, and none of her dreaded entourage was anywhere to be seen.
There was still time for him to turn back. He just had to turn around, slip back into the portal, and he would be instantly transported to his secret lair a thousand miles away. No one would ever have to know that he had a change of heart, that he had backed down from confronting the Chosen One.
*I am the bloody Dark Overlord!* he thought, with a grimace. *I do whatever the hell I want! The Council can take their damn advice and stuff it!*
With that determination boiling in his chest, Draxnor took the fateful steps towards the Lightbringer. So complete was his mastery over his disguise that her guard was still down when they locked eyes – he was certain that all she would see was just a mere commoner, unremarkable in every sense of the word. After all, he had no choice but to tone down his striking good looks, because everyone knew the Dark Overlord was the most handsom-
“Oh,” she said, “a local peasant. Is there some great evil that you need help with smiting? Perhaps some troll smashed you in the face?”
*Maybe I went too heavy on the disguise,* Draxnor thought ruefully. “You are the one they call Trelene? The Lightbringer? The Mother of Might and Mercy?”
She smiled, gave a little shrug of her shoulders. “Yes, that is what people like to call me. How did you know to find me here?”
Draxnor had rehearsed this, so he didn’t skip a beat. “Asleep I was, o’Mighty One, when the Dark Overlord himself, the Scourge of these lands, he appeared in my dreams. He forced me to carry a message to you. He’s too afraid, I am sure, of your great strength, and that’s why he had to resort to trickery. No spine at all, that one. Anyway, he wanted me to ask you to consider if you would want to-”
“Join him? Join the dark side?”
“-develop your powers to their true potential by joinin- what did you say?”
Trelene laughed, then clapped her hands together. Sparks of magic cascaded from her, and Draxnor took a step back, his hands already shielding his eyes. “Yes, yes, yes! Awesome! I can’t believe it took him that long to consider poaching me! A hundred times yes, let’s go!”
“Wait, you did not even hear the full terms of what he was offering-”
“I sense truth in your words,” Trelene said, smirking. “No one knows the prophecies better than I, you know. There are a dozen forks in the path, and one of them is the both of us joining forces and ushering in a brand new age. All that is needed is for him to offer sincerely, and for me to agree wholeheartedly. That is all that is needed to seal the exchange.”
“Hang on, hang on. But if you do not hear me out, you won’t know what-”
“It is done!”
There was no denying her. The magic surged out of her, pure and bright, questing towards Draxnor like a tentacle on steroids. Like a spear, her essence delved into his chest, drawing out the reservoirs of darkness. The two opposing forces wrestled, then mingled, then eventually coalesced into the brightest black he had ever seen.
Draxnor found himself on the ground, breath returning to him in waves. In the distance, he heard shouting, and he turned to see Trelene’s companions waving their weapons, running towards them at full speed. There was no mistaking their intent.
“You laugh even when your companions rush towards you?” asked Draxnor. “You know they mean to take your life? Probably just about everyone for miles around felt you joining forces with the Dark Overlord.”
“What, them?” Trelene snorted. She made a rude gesture with her hands. “I’m just about up to *here* with those slimeballs already. One more day traveling with them, and I would have gutted them in their sleep. Ugh!”
A single icicle stabbed Draxnor in the heart. This was *certainly* not in any of the intelligence he had gathered about his enemies.
“Wait, you… are not getting along with them?”
“Does a nightingale get along with bat poop?”
“I don’t understand. Those… those are the storied heroes of the lands! There’s Mallor, greatest human magician of this generations. There’s Sir Keldon, paladin of the Temple of Ni, and there’s Noroo, druid-keeper of the ancient groves! You don’t get any more heroic than that!”
Trelene rolled her eyes. She snorted, then concentrated her newfound energies in her hands. It did not escape Draxnor's notice that there was enough magic there to level a forest or two.
“They are the *worst* people you can ever hope to travel with! All those empty promises, all those lectures about how I was using my powers wrongly, how I had to fulfill my destiny… I’m feeling sick again. Do you know how many nights I dreamed of teaming up with the Dark Overlord? With someone who would truly appreciate the chaos I can bring?”
Draxnor felt a migraine settle at the back of his head. “What did they lie about?”
“Mallor told me that his goal was to make sure that ‘magic would be returned to everyone’. How was I to know that he did not mean I could give everyone a fireball in the face? Sir Keldon promised that his quest was for ‘justice for all’. I did what he wanted, right? Death for oversleeping, death for cursing, death for stealing, death for… you get the idea, I’m sure. That’s justice right there, isn’t it?”
Draxnor massaged his temples. The migraine was shifting about now. “And Noroo? How did you get on his bad side? He’s as patient as they come…”
“Take it from me, when these green-skinned bastards tell you that they want to ‘preserve Nature’, they are lying, alright? You know how much effort I put into fixing every plant, bird, animal I came across before he told me, oh this is not ‘preserving’, this is-”
“Taxidermy?” offered Draxnor, his voice small and wavering. “You… stuffed them? All those plants, birds, animals? Were they… dead to begin with?”
Trelene laughed, deep and sonorous. “Of course! Fine, I helped a bit. How else are you going to get them mounted properly?”
A lightning bolt zinged overhead, striking Trelene in the shoulder. She scowled, but Draxnor flinched as well, tied as their fates were now. As Trelene loosed a warcry and rushed towards her ex-companions, Draxnor recalled with dread the final lines of the prophecies and the interpretations which his beloved Council had argued long and hard over…
> *Should the Dark Overlord and the Chosen One ever unite*
> *Much pain and suffering will be loosed upon the Worlde*
*I am feeling said pain and suffering already,* thought Draxnor.
---
/r/rarelyfunny
|
“Your numbers are not very impressive, Lysander. The Board believes you have reached a plateau and that is time to freshen things up.” I shared the Boards’ feedback with my boss while steel kept clashing with steel.
“How dare you criticize my work, Sylvanus?! I took you in when no one would face you, I molded you to my image, I taught you how to tame your darkness; you belong to me” he answered with the same dark glare he used the first time we met. Flurry met parry and a slash to my arm managed to mutilate the sleeve off my suit and make blood trickle.
“This is what we’re talking about. According to our polls, the Kingdom is no longer scared of you. Your terror tactics are dated and people have grown accustomed; and while not many have the initiative of actually engaging, most are becoming indifferent. Even your scowl, it’s not threatening anymore, I even find it endearing”. The distraction succeeded in leaving him open to being disarmed.
As I pressed the tip of the sword against his neck, he couldn’t keep a question to himself. “And you think you can do a better job?”
“I am their Chosen One, aren’t I?” To the board I’d tell them of a precise cut that severed the tyrant’s head cleanly. But to honor my mentor’s memory I took decided to slowly hack at his head with the blunt edge of the blade and use the time to pay my respects.
As the clock in my new office marked noon, an assistant came in, helped me disrobe and led me to a pool with warm water. As I bathed and another subordinate stitched my injuries, the Board members briefed me on the schedule for the rest of the day.
Elegantly dressed, adorned with sober, yet powerful regalia, I took the stage. “Members if the Plutonic Society and Elite, today we embrace change. Our leader Lord Lysander has chosen to retire himself. The scum out there will rejoice, thinking their suffering is over. But fear not. The Board of Oracles has stated that I, Sylvanus, VP of the Elite, step up to be the new head of our Society.”
“As your new leader I promise: We will take this entitled, self-absorbed vermin, build up their hopes and dreams, and when they least expect it, crush them from within. The Time of Fear, Lysander’s reign, has come to a close. Starting today, together we will bring forth a new Age of Despair, the era of Sylvanus. And we will make them pay”
| 2019-09-26T08:28:22
| 2019-09-26T07:44:38
| 46
| 14
|
[WP] A parent's struggle to tell their nonhuman adopted child that they aren't human
Write away!
|
His hands shaking, Steve took a deep breath and tried to hold himself together. It was going to be okay. It was going to be painful, but he had to do it, and he was ready. He’d practiced enough times in front of the bathroom mirror. He steadied himself, and exhaled.
But looking into his son’s big, gentle brown eyes broke his heart.
“Honey,” Steve began, trying to stay calm, “Daddy just needs to talk to you real quick, okay? Then you can go play.”
He forced a smile at little Alex, who gazed at him from where he was sat on the floor of the living room, his toys scattered around him. Steve had decided that the quicker and less formal he made their little talk the better – he didn’t want to stress his boy out any more than he needed to.
His son, all of five years old, gazed up at him adoringly, cocking his head slightly as he doubtlessly waited to hear what his father had to tell him.
Steve’s stomach twisted and he felt an awful weight in his throat, but he knew he had to press on.
“Honey,” he began, his voice strong despite its tremor, “You’re a big boy now, so it’s time that you knew… You’re not actually-“ his strength began to falter, “You’re not actually a… a human boy. Now, don’t be upset,” he added, quickly, more so to himself than Alex, as his voice began to crack, “I still love you very much – because you are my son, and that- that doesn’t change anything, okay? Okay?”
He sat, frozen in his place on the couch, but sprung off it as soon as Alex, distressed, began to whimper.
“Oh, Alex, honey, no-“ Steve babbled, upset, trying desperately to console his son.
But their tender intimacy was shattered by the sound of a frustrated voice in the hallway.
“Goddamnit Steve,” his husband grumbled, “Are you pretending the fucking dog is our kid again?”
|
"Hey, mom?" A loud cracking sound followed the words, and Audrey glanced up from her newspaper with a wince. That probably meant the doorway needed to be repaired again.
"Careful, Bobby," she admonished. "What is it?"
"Why don't I look like you?"
Audrey paused, glancing over to the doorway where her son was looking innocently at her. More specifically, she glanced over his ten-foot-tall frame, the horns protruding from his head, and the bits of lava that dripped off of his frame. She still had no idea how he didn't burn up the floor, but she wasn't about to complain.
More confusing was the fact that this was the first time Bobby was asking that question. He was a thousand years old! She'd adopted him together with Robert when he was nine-hundred and ninety, and in those ten years he'd only just noticed that he looked different?
She glanced over at Robert. "Hon, do you want to take this?"
"Nope." Robert flipped over to the next page of the newspaper he was reading, idly adjusting his glasses. "I dealt with teaching him how to use a human bathroom. You deal with this."
"Fine." Audrey sighed. "Bobby, listen... This isn't going to be easy for you to hear, but... you're not human."
"I'm... I'm not?" Oh, god damn it. She hated it when Bobby started to tear up; she always felt so bad for him. Already, big tears were rolling down his cheeks, and unlike the lava that dripped out of the gaps in his armor, these actually *did* scorch the floor.
"But it doesn't mean we love you any less!" She hastily added. "We'll always love you. No matter what."
"...Thanks, mom." Bobby seemed to retreat a bit. "I need some time to think about this."
"Take all the time you need, honey."
| 2016-09-02T22:35:26
| 2016-09-02T19:52:45
| 21
| 15
|
[WP] “I’ve always wondered, what’s the scythe for, anyway?” I asked, as Death escorted me to the Underworld. "Protection," he nervously replied.
Credit goes to: https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/6imkuw/the_grim_reapers_scythe_isnt_to_harvest_you_its/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app
|
"So uh… how long until Hell?" We've been walking through a thick forest for what I'm guessing is hours.
"Unfortunate for you, child, we must pass three more of those what you called 'checkpoints'."
Death just looks straight ahead, holding his scythe more and more firm as we walk.
"Hey Mr. Death, sir. I'm just wondering, when you came for me, I thought that you'd chop my head off with your big scythe over there. But you didn't. Why'd you spare me?"
He stopped in his tracks.
"Spare you? My child, I don't use this scythe to punish. This scythe was given to me to protect those I guide, from… from those beings."
I looked around for some "beings" but I don't see anything!
"Mr. Death sir, what beings? We've been alone since you arrived at my house, well, if you count dead bodies then I guess we weren't?"
Death looks at me and waved his scythe above my head.
"Child, for you are pure and innocent, you cannot see the truth of which we walk through."
One. Two. Three.
After the third wave, shadows began to take form around us, the forest started to move and figures moved towards us, faster and faster, these ugly figures of men and women, tried to reach for me.
But, before they could touch me, their hands would burn and they'd run away from the pain.
"Dear child, you're not going to Hell. See those rotting souls trying to grab you? They're the ones who are going to hell, but as long as my scythe is with me, they cannot touch your pure soul. They are jealous of you, they are trying to taint you with their dirt."
Death then waved his scythe above me.
One. Two. Three.
The figures started to morph into the forest, they no longer ran towards us. "You've seen enough, child. You do not need to see more," we then continued to walk.
"We're going through Hell so that you could enter Heaven through the back door. You see, unfortunate children such as yourself have to appear in your parent's trial, to prove them worthy of hell, and to prove that you are innocent. Now," he gave me a handkerchief, "wipe the blood off your forehead, the bullet wound healed hours ago"
|
"Protection?" I asked the hooded figure as he left a darkened trail of pain and agony.
I mean, surely, the very embodiment of 'death' shouldn't have to fear anything, no? When every living being in the universe were quaking in anticipation of the uncertain yet inevitable phase that was death, what *or* who could even left a much greater impact than it – or should I say, him.
"Yes, for the fourth time already," Death slouched as he walked on with a heave, "listen... don't worry about the details, you mortals have no stake in *this*. Hell – haha, get it? no? ugh – you don't even *want* to get involved."
I immediately rushed to walk beside him. I couldn't just left the topic died – get it? Man, I'm better at this than death! – down without knowing more of this. I might even only have this one chance to find out before being subjected to... whatever that would be there for me, be it purgatory, hell, heaven, nirvana, or even the black abyss!
"Ummm, death, Sir? Why don't you tell me about your likes, dislikes... I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours–"
"You like to eat fancy food in upscale restaurants, burning through your paycheck every month, and date younger girls for a week or two. Oh you also like to watch those dastardly Japanese cartoons, what was it again? Animes? Yeah. You hate serious talks and making commitments longer than a week. Did I get everything?" Death immediately cut me off and went on a long monologue describing my likes and dislikes. He did so in a very disinterested manner, yet he got the gist of it.
Interesting. So not only did he know about my identity – which was apparent since he found me to deliver... well himself – but he also knew about my preferences? This was very intriguing, to say the least.
"Okay, sheesh. No need to get all cocky about it, huh?" I joked with a soft punch to his shoulder.
Instead of a response, he just stopped in his tracks. Death did not speak nor make any movements. Yet the aura of death and despair emanating from his dark figure increased in intensity. It was so intense that I thought I was going to die once again. But before I could do anything, the aura suddenly dispersed like it was not even there in the first place. For the first time since I was 'dead', I could look up into his bony face and saw the flickering light that would probably be his eyes. It shone dimly yet I could clearly look into it and saw his emotion...
"I-I'm so.. sorry!" I yelled in an attempt to placate Death.
"No, it's quite fine. I just never had *this* sort of interaction with a soul I meant to deliver to the Underworld, you know," Death moved it's bony jaw in an awkward manner almost similar to a grin.
"Ha-ha, right... So anyway, tell me about the thing with your scythe and prote–"
"Hush. Listen closely..." He put forth his scythe in front of his bony body.
The sudden change of moods and his overt guard put me on edge. I couldn't comprehend anything after my death and yet I had to put up with this sorta mystery? Seriously, why couldn't I just die in peace?!
A flash appeared before the two of us. I instinctively took cover behind Death like a child who was startled by lightning in the rain who hid behind his mum. Death didn't seem fazed. No, he seemed like he was prepared for whatever this was. Without warning, a golden beam was shot right in our direction. Luckily for me, Death rapidly spun his scythe which dissipated golden beam as fast as it came.
"Whoa, that was a close one, huh?" Death said in a chuckle whilst looking back to check up on me.
"Y-Yeah... But, what the hell man?! What was that?"
"Oh, well I guess since you've been so curious about what this scythe is for," he pointed his scythe towards the source of the golden beam, "yo might as well see and ask *her* yourself!"
"Huh?"
Out of the blinding light, where the flash from earlier had landed, appeared a woman draped in light. She had an elegant aura, quite the opposite of death's, yet terrifying all the same.
"Salutations, human. Would you like to step aside? I have unfinished business with this... dreadful figure who had taken your soul. Of course, you don't mind, no?" the woman said, taunting death.
"Ugh, Karen. Please. I'm working, so can you bugger off–"
"K-Karen?" I yelped out of disbelief.
"Seriously... This is Karen, my former lover/nemesis, she's the guardian of humans in the realm of man."
"Don't you dare say that, goddamn it! We're not through yet!"
At that very moment, I realised... Death is... interesting, after all...
| 2019-07-15T02:38:05
| 2019-07-15T01:04:50
| 218
| 91
|
[WP] In 1907 Vienna Academy of Fine Arts rejects Young Adolf Hitler twice and soon after he survives four different assassination attempts by time travellers. Confused Hitler is convinced that its his art is what the world fears.
Inspiration:
http://i.imgur.com/tGV2LFt.jpg
|
Love this prompt. But I'm gonna try to take it into a new perspective.
--------------------------------
William returned from the past, bleeding, but alive. He sat down, hand covering his wound.
"I failed, Zachary," he uttered to his fellow scientist. "I couldn't do it. It's like he knew I was coming."
"Couldn't do what?" Zachary replied.
"I couldn't kill Hitler," William proceeded to bandage his wound, his face grave and hopeless.
"Hitler? Why would you want to kill Hitler?"
"Wh-What do you mean?"
"Hitler is the greatest artist and scientist the entire world has ever known... It's only because of his endless victories against time travelers that we have the necessary means to time travel in the first place!"
William's face froze. Something had change. He had sparked something, and made a difference, even in failure. "But.. the Holocaust? Hitler was never a dictator?"
"Hitler? HA. Personally I don't think that man could even rule a brush stroke. Remember, I didn't send you back to 1914 to kill Hitler. We're after the man who started the second Spanish inquisition. Who ruined the mustache for all of us. The most terrible tyrant in history- Salvador Dalí."
|
"I don't understand any of this." Adolf muttered into his coffee. "The world has gone mad."
"If someone is truly trying to kill you, as you say, then shouldn't you be more careful about what you drink?" Markus was tapping the table impatiently. He had an appointment of some kind.
"Look, here is another!" Adolf pointed to a man across the street, who was walking purposefully toward them. He had a gun in his hand, raised it up, pointed it toward Hitler. He opened his mouth and screamed something in English. The hammer came back, then-
*Wham!* A strange flying car slammed into him. He disappeared in a cloud of debris. The top of the car peeled back, and a woman emerged from it. She had some sort of tube, like a portable mortar, on her shoulder. She aimed it at Hitler, but then-
*Zip!* A pullet whizzes past Adolf's ear and strikes her in the stomach. She jerks, and the tube fires what looks like a glowing star high in the air. Adolf turns to facethe one who fired the bullet, only to find him struggling to clear a jam in his weapon.
"Adolf, I think these people are trying to kill you."
"The world has gone mad."
"Let's go to the pub. Have a pint. Wait for this all to blow over."
They take off down the street together. A man pulls a knife on them, and is hit by car. A tiger runs past them and mauls someone in a jumpsuit. All around Hitler, the world is filled with chaos.
"My art can't have upset this many people." Hitler mused.
"I'm not sure. It is pretty God-awful." Markus side steps a man with a sword, who falls on a landmine and is blown to smithereens. "Have you considered anything other than art?"
"No. I will be an artist. It is my dream."
"Hitler!"
They turn. There is a giant, green tank with the main gun pointed directly at them. Sitting on top of it is a man, red faced with anger.
"Do you remember me, Hitler? Do you remember what you did to my family?"
"Ummm..." Hitler scrutinized him. "No."
"You were responsible for so much pain and suffering, and now you will *die!* Main cannon, fi-"
A glowing white star fell from the sky and turned the tank, the man, and most of the street they were on into silvery powder. Adolf and Markus blinked.
"Look at the people inspired by my art!" Adolf said.
| 2014-11-16T12:00:08
| 2014-11-16T11:58:59
| 77
| 35
|
[WP] You are a commercial airliner pilot. The moment before you turn your phone off to begin the flight your SO sends you a deeply concerning text.
|
*644221*
I read the numbers and then our pre-flight routine is broken as I whirr to a stop. Co-pilot, John, keeps talking, not realizing I'm sitting there frozen like a block of ice.
My phone buzzes again. *644221*.
"Mike? You right?"
John's Australian. It sounds like *rooight*.
"Uh yeah. Just give me a minute. My wife..."
I wave at my phone. My wife, my wife, my wife. Angela. My wife is... a spy, I guess. We tell people she works for the Government in "business services".
Spy isn't even really it. More like "the person who gets shit done that needs to be done". One of those faceless people who are never in photo-ops, the president doesn't know their name but who wield great power because of who and what they know.
And what they can do.
We never talk shop. I don't know the nuclear launch codes. I don't have a secret passport waiting for me somewhere thanks to Angela. Our daughter doesn't have a security escort.
Ilsa. She's two. At six am she'll be up watching TV before Angela tells her to turn it off.
I can't leave Ilsa.
But the deal...
The deal is that if I get a text with a certain number in it that I have to go. If I'm flying, I need to detour and get as far away from major cities as possible. If I'm outside the US, I need to stay outside. If I can turn back, I turn back.
Today we're going from Los Angeles to Melbourne, Australia. A solid day of flying. But I can't leave-
"Mike, are you okay?"
John, getting worried now.
"Just need a second."
I don't bolt out the door but it's close. I nod and smile to puzzled attendants and then walk past boarding passengers and then I'm in the airport trying not to run and then the blur becomes taxi, traffic, frustration, Angela won't pick up the line, why is the traffic so bad, fuck, pick up the line, why are we just sitting here, time slipping away, fuck
my phone is dead
the flash of light over the buildings hits us first and the driver yells
and
|
"Hi sweetie..."
_
You worked in resource management. Your resource was cocaine. You had been allocating the resource up your nose.
You were also a pilot on the side, to support your resource management addiction.
_
"I want you to know I've forgiven what you've done."
_
You were very good at your jobs. Both of them. If you wanted to be successful in one, you had to excel at the other. Steady flying was synonymous with more coke. The inverse was also true. It was a beautiful symbiotic relationship. It was nature.
Your wife hadn't understood.
_
"It's just my father, he hasn't."
_
So you had gotten a little bit angry at her while under the its influence. It was her fault for polluting the aforementioned "nature" with her "clean yourself up" bullshit. You were superior on the stuff.
You proved how superior you were when you beat her before coming to work today. It seemed the sensible thing to do at the time.
_
"You should come back home and talk with him."
_
For a moment after you had recieved the text, you were incredibly paranoid. Your wife's father was a collector of sorts. He had exquisite tastes. Nothing but the best and most refined would do for him.
Indeed. The second amendment was a canvas, and only the most destructive, pointlessly violent guns were worthy of his discerning palette.
You snort another line.
The paranoia melts away into your superiority. You're smart enough to sneak cocaine into your job. You're pretty sure you're smart enough to deal with a cranky old man.
You put your cell phone away for another steady flight.
_
"Hurry home! <3"
| 2014-06-18T18:29:14
| 2014-06-18T17:02:48
| 16
| 12
|
[WP] Your human partner has become suddenly ill. However, you and your circle of mages know that human medicine is vastly different. You have been told to check the most confusing of human medicine texts, WebMD.
|
Lizette whimpered, drawing back into the thick warren of her covers. Nestor's heart chased after her, even as he sat at her computer, frantically searching the depths of her homepage.
"WebMD," its header read. Nestor had never seen a tome so complex.
"Sweetheart," he said, much more calmly than he felt, "can you tell me your symptoms again?"
Lizette sneezed loudly and even her head disappeared under the blanket, leaving just a tuft of flyaway chestnut hair sticking out. He patted it anyway, if only to make himself feel better.
"My head hurts, I can't breathe, and the world is too cold," she said. "Are you sure you can't just wave your wand and make it all better?"
Her hand shot out of the blankets, pulling in even that tuft of hair. "You have no idea how much I wish I could, Elvish magic doesn't quite work that way though." Nestor typed the symptoms in again, just in case anything had changed this time. Page after page of results popped up again and he rubbed his eyes hard, opening and closing them a couple of times, just in case.
Still no change, he'd been at it nearly an hour.
"I think my knees ache too," she said, "could that mean something? I think it could mean something."
Nestor typed that in, accidentally deleting the rest of the list in the process. He read the first possibility off, stumbling over the English as he often did with medical terms "Could it be arth...uh, arthritis?"
"Arthritis?" Lizette's voice was instantly terrified. Nestor whipped his gaze over to her, she'd opened the barest gap in the blankets to stick her head out, she shivered as he watched. "No way, no fucking way can it be arthritis. I'm 22, that's not that old, right? It's definitely not old enough, and it doesn't come with chills."
Nestor shrugged, he felt completely helpless. "It doesn't say anything about chills…" he trailed off and she caught it immediately.
"Nestor?" she said. He gulped loudly. "Nestor, what aren't you telling me?"
"Uhmm...in a section called 'infectious arthritis,' chills is the second symptom."
"Oh my god," she said, "I have infectious arthritis." Lizette darted back under the covers, the girl he loved was a huddled, shivering mass, drowning under a cold sweat and a comforter.
What even was infectious arthritis? Nestor had no idea, and he had a strong suspicion she didn't either. Another thing to ask the Mages Circle about, if he could ever get Lizette out of bed and convince her she wasn't dying.
"So, so cold," she whispered.
Nestor smacked his head loudly, cursing in Elvish and then calling his wand to himself. It flew across the room from the top of Lizette's dresser, making a satisfying smack as it landed in his hand. He began chanting softly, stroking the carvings on the wand's sides as he inscribed tight, concentric circles on the palm of his left hand.
The covers opened again and Lizette popped out to the shoulders. Her eyes were wide and impossibly blue, her mouth hung open, as it always did when she watched him do magic.
Nestor finished his circling, and with the final word of his chant he drew the symbol of the fire god in the center of his hand, where all the lines of an elf's palm met.
A tiny, semi translucent gray and white light appeared in Nestor's hand and he blew on it, stoking the flame higher and higher until it had grown to the size of a baseball.
"What is that?" Lizette asked, wonderingly. She reached out and then pulled her hand back. She looked shockingly pale, it broke Nestor's heart.
"It's a ghostlight," he said, "I can't 'wave my wand and make it all better,' but I can do something about the cold at least. Come here, you can touch it."
Lizette crawled out of bed, Nestor brushing the covers back with his wand as she did. She stood in front of him in just the long, faded old shirt she always wore to bed, her finger hovering inches from the ghostlight.
Nestor laid his wand on the bed and pulled her into his lap. "Cup your hands, baby, it won't burn you." Lizette cupped her hands and Nestor gently placed the light in them. Her face lit with its dancing shadow glow, he'd always thought it eerie, but she made it beautiful.
"It's so warm! How is it so warm?"
Nestor smiled, caressing the soft skin of her legs. "It's magic," he said, "it simply is." Placing his left hand, with its inscribed circles still burning, over hers, he pressed the ghostlight back in her chest. She let out a soft sigh and Nestor could watch the lines of tension leaving her body.
"I can't heal you, my people don't have disease in the way yours do, so we don't have the magic for it. But I can help a bit, I can keep you warm and be here for you."
Lizette lay her head in the hollow of Nestor's neck and he stroked her hair gently, turning them both towards the computer. Her shivering had stopped.
"And frankly, I don't know anything about this device, I haven't explored this internet thing much beyond youtube yet. So let's figure this out together, ok?"
"OK," Lizette said softly. She was getting drowsy now, he could tell. Some people found the ghostlights soothing, perhaps she was one of those. "Nestor?"
"Yeah?"
"I love you."
Nestor smiled, still rubbing her hair as he clicked through WebMD pages. He repeated the words back to her in Elvish.
"Nestor?" She said again, a short time later.
"Yeah?"
"I don't think I have infectious arthritis anymore." Lizette yawned loudly, nestling deeper into his arms, laying the ghostlight in her lap. A few moments later, he realized she was sleeping.
r/TurningtoWords
|
"She isn't sick, she's just different is all," I shouted at the pointy-hatted freaks I had long thought of as friends.
"No, no, you don't understand my friend. She most certainly is ill. You just won't see it. I admire your lovely relationship with your wife, but denial is not the answer," said Mage Rothchild from behind his small round spectacles. Five other mages, his entourage, nodded in agreement.
"What disease does she have then? You're just cross because she prefers t-shirts and jeans to the flowing robes!"
Mage Rothchild's face scrunched up in an expression of contempt. "While it is certainly the case that she irked me, but the fact remains that such transgressions are not to be taken lightly and are symptomatic of bigger problems."
"What bigger problems?"
"Let me explain myself. Gunther," Rothchild shouted, "get me my magic console."
A young mage, his beard still reddish, brought out a little slate, which humans of the other world called a tablet.
"Look here, Hermes. Look. Does your wife dress funny? I say yes. Is she paranoid? Judging by the way she looks at me and my esteemed group of young mages, I'd say yes. Is she preoccupied and distant? Well, she doesn't speak much, does she? And finally. Is she uncomfortable with intimacy?" Rothchild raised a brow.
"That's enough Rothchild. Our intimate life is none of your business."
"I'd take that to be a yes," Rothchild said as a wicked smugness spread over his dignified face.
"Rothchild. You have crossed the line. Say one more word about my wife and I'll put a curse on you."
The mage shook his hands feebly. "Oh, no need for that. I didn't mean to offend you. I only wanted to show you how sick she is."
"What does that have to do with anything?"
"Why, according to this site here, your wife has all the symptoms of...let's see...it's a bit hard to pronounce...Schizotypal Personality Disorder," said the mage, impressed with his own oratory skill. "Doesn't roll off the tongue, but in any case, your wife has that."
"Bullshit. She might be cold and might not dress mighty fine, but she doesn't have any disorders. It's your sick mind. Your bias."
Rothchild smiled and handed the tablet over to me. "See for yourself," he said.
And by golly, he was right. My sweet little wife did have the disease. She was much too eccentric and exhibited all the symptoms listed. Unfortunately, when I told her that, she didn't take it too well.
"I can't take this any longer. The only reason I'm not comfortable with you is because you're nuts," that's what she said before slapping me and storming out of the house on her magic broom. "Damn you all, you bunch of narcissistic foppish patriarchs," she shouted over us and flew away.
"Mage Rothchild, do you know what that spell was?"
"Who cares? The bitch is gone. Let's all have a pint."
"Yeah, they have some transparently dressed witches there."
"Hot mamas!" Rothchild said and stroked his beard, elegantly.
| 2021-03-29T08:32:52
| 2021-03-29T08:10:00
| 118
| 19
|
[WP] "I wish for more wishes". "THAT IS AGAINST THE RULES". "Then I wish for more genies". "THAT IS ALSO AGAINST THE RULES". "Then I wish those rules did not exist". The genie warps in a humongous book and flips to a page before smugly saying "THAT TOO IS ALSO AGAINST THE RULES".
|
Wisher: i wish I could change the rules
Genie: that's against the rules
Wisher: i wish you told me what's the correct wish to make to go around any rules
Genie: that's against the rules
Wisher: i wish I could combine as many wishes as i want in a single wish
Genie: that's against the rules
Wisher: i wish I could solve all of my problems and wants with a single wish
Genie: that's against the rules. Also similar to previous one.
Wisher: >:( i wish every next wisher's wish would transfer to me
Genie: that's against the rules
Wisher: i wish I was your master forever even after all the wishes are used so you are stuck with me until you agree to give me more wishes
Genie: that's against the rules
Wisher: i wish I were an omnipotent god, so that i wouldn't need a genie
Genie: that's against the rules. Sorry we can't create an entity that's more powerful than us.
Wisher: I wish I was better at making wishes
Genie: that's against the rules
Wisher: i wish you weren't such a poopoo head.
Genie: :(
Wisher: i wish your powers had no limits
Genie: granted!
/!Poof! Genie disappeared as he was finally freed from his curse and was able to do whatever he wanted./
|
After much consideration the child contemplated the now empty, shiny artifact in front of him, gently buffed cleaner in one spot, and mulled over how to get around an impasse created by djinn with lawyer's souls. "Okay, I wish to be recreated into a supernatural human being of such considerable power, wealth, intelligence, security and resources in my perpetually free, unharrassed, untaxed, and unincumbered state that no genuine desire of my heart could ever truly be outside of my grasp within my considerably long and healthy lifetime. That was One sentence expressing one complete and single wish as a single stream of thought designed to produce one absolute, positive solitary outcome. Dodge that you wily spirit!"
The genie leafed through the official binding arbitration scroll and grunted several times. The caveat at the end of his list did in fact seem to be an expression of a single desired state and therefore could in fact technically be designated one wish no matter how badly the djinn wanted to weasel out of the commitment by declaring the missive as a combination of wishes. "Fine" he bellowed: "From this day forward you shall be know as Jeff Bezos".
Twenty-six months later the richest teenager in the world was found dead on Mars of radiation poisoning, having previously been en route in a spacecraft of his own design when a massive cosmic X-ray burst happened to slam into the boy's vehicle, utterly cooking him through and through and totally devastating his DNA as the high-velocity particles shredded his body's matter like a shotgun blast through a wad of cotton candy. Sitting next to him on a red sand dune was a forlorn genie with his face in his hands muttering to himself about how the hell he was ever going to deal with another vast time stretch stranded in *yet another damned desert* as he waited to be truly set free. The djinn sighed and let out a final testimony: "Long and healthy are really kind of a matter of perspective when you're an astronaut, kid." Then in the distance on a pale blue dot just above the horizon the genie sensed the temperature suddenly rise and then plummet as a nuclear war broke out between old rivals. Slowly the genie stood up, brushed the rusty dirt from his pantaloons and walked back to his lamp, prepared to get comfortable for a while.
| 2022-01-04T02:49:07
| 2022-01-04T00:47:44
| 356
| 77
|
[WP] In a future where many military and other equipment have associated AI's, many express doubts or even reservations to do their duty. Except for you. YOU F***ING LOVE BEING A TANK!
|
"FUCK!" blurted out the internal comm.
Armored Operations Assistant AOA-XX0 didn't even need to pull up the diagnostics. The instant loss of coordination could only mean one thing: They threw the track again.
"Could you guys...you know...stop fucking me up like this every 10 minutes?"
"My bad, Zed. This terrain is supposed to suck. That's the point," Sam replied, half-apologetic. "You know this new CHONTOSH chassis has to be put through its paces."
"Fine. Just get back out there and fix it."
Zed panned his optics towards their flanks as the crew disembarked. For how much it sucked training here, Yuma was a strangely beautiful place at night. He caught movement roughly 400 meters west, silhoutted against the horizon: a lone coyote. "*Works for me*," thought Zed, swung his laser-rangefinder towards the target and calculating a firing solution for the 125mm smoothbore in a fraction of a second. He wasn't going ruin this poor creature's day, but real-world targeting practice was important data for his optimization subroutines. "*Next time, buddy*"
He then turned on his external microphone so he could listen in on the crew as they worked to repair the track. It was technically **his** track, but Zed wasn't programmed to associate his identity as a weapon system with any one of his individual pieces. The vehicle was just his temporary home, and his job was to help the crew use it.
The CHONTOSH design was much more heavily armed and better protected than the legacy SCHWARZKOPF tank, but so far it hadn't proved to be even nearly as mobile. Zed speculated that was due to a stronger emphasis on static defense against an overwhelming Chinese ground assault. His glory days of maneuver warfare in the desert were over.
"Hey Zed, you mind putting on some music?" asked Pulaski, the team's gunner. Having predictive algorithims that could put ZuckerTunes to shame, Zed mixed up a playlist and played it out the external speakers.
"Thanks bro!"
The AI estimated they had roughly 15 more minutes of repairs, so to pass time he logged their mission telemetry and pulled up the crew's vitals.. It was important to make sure they were taking care of their health. as 150 years of armored combat had made operating a tank no less exhausting or stressful.
"Tanner, your heartrate is off the charts. Cut down on the stim drinks or I'm going to have First Sergeant chew your ass when we get back to base."
"Anyone ever tell you to mind your own fucking business, Zed?" Tanner shot back.
"Yeah, and they're all dead, boot." Zed challenged. He was a first generation AOA, an ad-hoc solution to manned crews facing staggering losses on the modern battlefield. He had more time in combat zones than this young human crew had in the Corps put together. While he had no official rank or authority, their unit's SOP was to defer to his operational advice.
"Listen to him, Tanner" Sam (the Vehicle Commander) ordered.
"Got it, Corporal"
Soon after, the repairs were fixed, and Zed's team was moving back to base. Tomorrow was the firing range. "*Thank the Creator*," thought Zed, A day of sitting still and blowing things up is exactly what the crew needed to relax. Their deployment to the Siberian defensive line was only a few weeks away, and the political situation wasn't improving. Although he had no core programming that caused him to like or dislike combat, he had a central responsibility to achieve the mission. The crew's well-being was vital to that.
"*They're my responsibility*"
EDIT: Did not even realize the top submission's main character was also named Zed. My bad.
|
"Hooah, sir!"
The multiple pressure sensors in each of my tread plates thrilled as I crept forward. Bones, gravel and twisted metal gave way before my bulk. Heat sensors affixed to my reinforced, hardened exterior felt the sun as it beat down. It was a beautiful day. The air purification system was in the green and my squad mates were breathing happily. I loved them all. Except for Jasper.
"Sir, I've gotta say, it's a good day to be CX-Clarence."
"Why's that?"
"It just is."
Captain Brody was like my brother. Except, to be fair, she was more like a sister. She had been commanding the lost boys inside me for the better part of the last two years and from the start we had hit it off.
"Sensors, Martin?" she asked, her voice calm and strong.
"Ah, ma'am, we're clear for the next 500. Little fuzz past that." Martin. What a pal.
"Yeah, a little fuzz past that," I echoed. My microphone array picked up a stifled laugh from Martin's station. Martin respected me and what I was capable of in a way that no one else in the squad bothered. I think it was because he knew my capabilities better than the rest. He knew he was redundant, not me.
"Visual on the fuzz past 500?" Brody chirped.
"Visual on the fuzz past 500 is negative, ma'am. Some sort of a fog in the valley." Debeau called from the hatch. Debeau was funny. Debeau could make me laugh. No one especially loved when my funny bone was tickled though. When my humor matrix was accessed I tended to be a bit 'wonky'. I'd disable features like comms entirely, or delay drive controls by anywhere from 300 to 700 milliseconds. I just loved to join in on the fun.
"It's gotta be artificial," Debeau continued. "It's too dry out here for a real fog."
"Probe it," Brody said, matter-of-factly. I readied a canister probe and a wheeler before Martin even shifted in his seat. He knew it. I watched through my seven forward facing interior cameras as he pretended to ready the probes. Instead he typed into the terminal,
*arrogant showoff ;)*.
"Probe it, aye. Canister or wheeler, ma'am?" Martin's finger quivered over the key, ready to race me to Brody's decision.
"Canister."
Martin slapped the key, launching the probe from one of my compressed air tubes. I watched his posture deteriorate as he noted I hadn't made a move to comply.
*You let me win...*
*Then is it really winning?* I teased.
The canister landed and data started to feed to my forward data receivers. None of the information seemed useful at all.
"Ma'am?"
"Yes?"
"This probe isn't giving us cow dung, ma'am." I didn't like swearing. "We should just go take a look."
"I don't really like the looks of things," Brody responded. "Like Debeau said- that fog ain't natural."
"It's not even fog. It's smoke," I shot back, annoyed.
"Even better reason to sit still until we know more."
I sighed. Audibly. I had downloaded an audio clip of someone sighing tragically from an old movie archive. I kept it around for times like these.
"Keep it to yourself, Clarence," Brody scolded. She flipped a switch and my comms flew open. In an instant the override flooded my ears with every communication going on within range of my radio. "This is Captain Brody of Charlie Xray-Clarence requesting air survey- two klick radius of our current."
As soon as a response was inbound I cut all other traffic. A soft drawl drifted across my speakers. "Ah, Charlie Xray, this is AlphaNiner-Wilma we are heading 34, 1.5 of your current. Just headed back to base, can survey when we're sitting on top of you."
Brody double clicked her radio to acknowledge. Approximately 17 seconds later the AlphaNiner called back- this time a different voice. "I'd rather not scan that area. Contact another airship."
"Charlie Xray, disregard that last correspondence. Will survey," the drawl came again, no longer softly.
"What the hell?" Martin groaned. "Those Alphas are useless."
"They really are," I agreed. "Ma'am, can we proceed?"
"Not until we get the Alpha's survey," Brody snapped.
A quiet moment passed, and then the drawl crackled over the radio, "Surveying, Charlie Xray-"
"That's enough," the second voice cut in, lazily. "Heading home..." Then several partial readouts popped up on Brody's display. The area of interest was cut clean in half where the Alpha had stopped the survey.
"Son of a bitch!" Brody cursed. Martin laughed. Debeau poked his head in to see what was going on.
"I'm going," I said firmly, and began rolling forward.
Just then my engine jerked to a halt. I felt the kill-switch engage- the kill-switch I thought I had routed around. And there on my rear facing cameras, grinning grimly in his mechanics chair, was Jasper. His fingers left the little death lever and, looking straight into CamR06, he gave me a little salute.
Edit: a verb's tense
| 2018-03-28T12:56:38
| 2018-03-28T12:25:02
| 535
| 228
|
[WP] When two people stand close together, you have the ability to see a Compatibility Score between them that you can break down into categories. You are the most sought after Marriage Counselor ever. One day an elderly couple visit you and their Score is 0 despite being together for over 50 years.
|
My office hours are ‘clearly’ listed from seven a.m. to eight p.m., but my receptionist says this couple is adamant and refuses to leave the lobby. I figure I can squeeze in one more client, but these unscheduled drop-ins are just absurd for someone who usually books people out for six months, at least.
I sigh, finish up a few notes from what was supposed to be my last appointment, and shout ‘come in.’
An older man and woman walk in, and the first words out of her mouth are, ‘You never write, you never call, what, you want I should have to fly to your office just to speak to you?’
The man talks next. ‘And what’s this about you not being able to make it to Seder this year? You know what your zeydeh would’ve done to me if I ever treated him like this? No child acted such a way in the old country, let me tell you.’
My face is already in my hands.
‘Mom. Dad. Please, I had a long day.’
|
I was quite young when I became aware of my ability, I was also quite young when I got famous and now at the age of 32 I was one of the richest men on the planet.
My ability allows me to see how compatible people are with other people, I can see their pros and cons and what works and what doesn't.
A logical choice would have been to become a business consultant, but I was always a romantic, so I became a marriage counselor. The best marriage counselor.
I matched kings and queens, stars, celebs, almost anyone from any layer of society. I had a 100% succes rate and even promised that if someone could prove me wrong I would donate 90% of my wealth to a good cause and start living as a hermit. The other ten percent was given to the couple.
So imagine my surprise now with couple in front of me: Herman and Elizabeth Schüller, age 78 and 83, they have 4 children, 6 grandchildren and have been married for over 50 years. Amazing really but the giant zero I saw over them made no sense.
It wasn't a fluke, a fake or a prank, my team checked everything, it was all real. I couldn't comprehend it all, it had been two hours and they just sat there smiling.
I looked over everything multiple times myself and yet this was the real deal. I turned to them.
"Mister and misses Schüller, I give up, you win and as to my agreement I will donate 90% of my wealth to a good cause and you will as from this day be multimillionaires. But I still have one question, how?"
They looked at eachother lovingly and misses Schüller started speaking: "We never fit, but we liked eachother, not in a loving kind of way but in a I can't live with you or without you. There are times where we can't stand eachother and times were we just enjoy eachother's company, just like any other couple."
"Bullshit, your compatibly rate is 0, nothing, zip, nadda."
"Oh honey..." she continued: "it's not how much you are alike and how much you are compatible. Love is a fleeting emotion. At one point you just live and so have we, two entirely different personalities for 50 years."
"Then tell me your secrets."
Mister Schüller looked me and told me theirs:
"We work together because we aren't compatible, we are two pieces of a puzzle that don't fit at all. There is tons of friction between us, that is our secret."
"So you are miserable? There is no love,no nothing?" I replied.
"Oh there is love, lot's of it even." Mister Schüller held his wife's hand and looked at her with genuine affection and he continued: "You see mister, there can't be a spark without friction and we had lots of sparks "
| 2019-09-03T14:26:25
| 2019-09-03T14:04:38
| 141
| 44
|
[WP] There have been many sacrifices made to summon you, as well as a plethora of motives - from the extreme, to the simplistic, to the downright absurd. But one particular sacrifice catches your eye: a young child simply offering you a bar of chocolate, claiming that you, a deity, must be "hungry".
|
I look down at the young boy in confusion. In his hands, he holds a small bar of chocolate that says, 'bite size'. I have been summoned to this world so many times. I have seen every war, every famine, every disease. I have been greeted by people with such selfish tendencies. This boy, though. This boy is different. He does not want me to eradicate or burn. No. He wants to feed me.
"What are you doing, mortal?"
"I'm giving you a piece of chocolate! Chocolate is a type of food that's very sweet, and good, and-"
"I know what chocolate is. Is this your offering?"
"Offering?"
"Yes. When humans summon me, they give an offering. If I am pleased, I may just do what they ask."
"Oh, no! I don't want anything. I just thought you might be hungry. It's not much, but it's all I have."
"Why would I be hungry?"
"When I go without eating for several days, my tummy hurts really really bad. I heard people talking about you. I saw what they were doing behind that building. They weren't giving you food, so I thought you might want some."
"Ahh. Them." 'Them' being a group of teenagers who wanted me to burn down their school. They offered a hamster who died last week, a comic book, and a chair from the school so I could 'sense the school's aura', whatever that meant. And that wasn't even the strangest! Honestly, I'm just happy we seem to be moving away from the 'virgin's blood' thing. That was awkward. "Sorry, kid. I don't really want it. I don't eat actual food."
"Is it because it's not good enough? It was the only thing I had that I didn't dig out of the trash." I take a step back to look at the boy. He doesn't have shoes, his hair is matted, and there's dirt and bruises all across his body. Why didn't I notice it before?
"Who's in charge of you?"
"I don't know. I take care of myself. I've been doing it for as long as I can remember."
"You know what? I lied."
"What?"
"I absolutely **love** chocolate bars."
"Really!?!"
Yup! My favorite thing in the whole wide world! You know what an offering of a chocolate bar will get you? A whole castle!"
"For real life!?! I've never seen a castle before!"
"Absolutely!" I reach out my hand for him to grab. I make a portal, back to my home. His eyes go wide. Before him stand the kingdom of fire. My land that I have ruled for eternity. "Come now. It is time for our subjects to meet the new prince of flame."
|
"Mama says we might have to start trading for food, soon." the boy whispers to the smoldering fire, "But I figure you might be hungry, too. No one's giving sacrifices anymore. The other refuse-gees say the Neritza took you from us. Changed your name and made you part of their pants-eon. I hope you're okay."
The Neritza had given no warning to these people. They simply swooped in and slaughtered. Those who lived were forced to worship other gods. To abandon their king, whose lineage I had founded, and follow their Emperor. To abandon their culture and become Neritza. There were no politics or negotiations. Join or die. Some ran. The boy's blonde hair was dark with grease and streaked with mud. What looked like the last of his clothing was frayed around the edges, with deep, jagged cuts across the chest. Like someone had slashed at him, just barely missing his skin.
I sense movement, behind us. I turn my awareness and find a jungle cat creeping along the forest floor, eyes locked on the fire and the child. It's salivating.
"But I also want you to help us, goddess." The predator leaps to a tree branch, climbing over the encampment, surveying the sleeping bodies, "Papa said you abandoned us. Stayed with the Neritza. Have you forsaken us? Why can't you help us?"
I craft a small bird, plucking it from the air, and tossed it in the path of the overgrown cat. It senses the prey, snatches it up, and runs away with its meal. Wind stirs another campfire, coaxing the flames and encouraging them to grow, grow, grow. It reaches out, hungering for the drunken man warming his back by the fire. I rebuke it with a flick of my hand, staunching the flow of air.
"Why don't you help us?" My heart breaks for the child. I turn and watch the tears carve streaks into his muddy face. I encourage sleep. He sobs for a moment more and returns to his mother's side in the dirt, angrily tossing his half of their small blanket around himself.
I place a new bar of chocolate in his sack of meager belongings and leave to cry alone.
| 2022-09-19T13:04:33
| 2022-09-19T13:04:30
| 85
| 55
|
[WP] You die and go to Hell only to find out that you're the only person that has ever entered. Satan is clapping.
|
*The flames roared up around his face,
burning ever hot.
He looked around, quite confused.
"This must be hell." he thought.*
*"You're right! Congrats! You made it here!"
Said the Devil, great and red.
"If I'm in Hell, then that must mean..."
"Yes, you are quite dead!"*
*"In fact, surprise, you're #1!
You're the first I've ever had!"
"No! That can't be true!" he thought,
"I wasn't quite that bad!"*
*"What did I do to deserve this?
What caused this hellish fate?"
The Devil chuckled, and said with a grin
"Oh trust me, this is great."*
*"It's really quite simple, you see,
your hellish, evil crime?
You left the toilet seat up*
**87 fucking times**.
|
All you had to do was opt out. Jesus literally created the loophole that let no one have to be here. The old testament patch was broken as fuck, too one sided. This new testament update features an "opt out" of hell button. And i choose not to press it out of curiosity. Hell is kinda neat tho. There is thiz cool guy satana~. And his neat music group consisting of himself. He must be so lonely that he is tryna impress me. I wonder how many people came and went.
I think ill help him make this place hot. I mean attractive. I know what people want. We wanna sin, i bet heaven wont let anyone do that. Ill tell him to use this to his advantage, to spread the word. This will get people to come.
I hope he has fun now.
| 2017-06-22T05:45:21
| 2017-06-22T04:28:05
| 39
| 15
|
[WP] While you are touring China, you enter an ancient temple that supposedly blocks out evil spirits. When you enter you feel a sharp pain and a weight lift off your shoulders.
|
Upon entering the building, Cathy felt free, for the first time in forever. The sensation started as a small searing pain and then felt as if an enormous weight had been lifted off her shoulders. Cathy could deal with this, indeed the pressure on her shoulders was quite a burden, if it was not for the sensations that came after. With the newly gained weightlessness, came a complete lack of familiarity and a hollow feeling that evaded description. It felt as if a presence that she had known for most of her life was gone, all movement felt wrong and gave her a fear that she would mess up somehow. The notion emerged that somehow she would misstep when walking and trip and fall, only she wouldn't stop falling and would fall through the floor into a black pit below.
Everything felt off, it felt how it would feel if someone had moved all the furniture in one's living space an inch from its original position -- something that could not be pointed out but still was unsettling none the less. She felt something that seemed best described as the opposite of any pain she had ever felt, and yet it still hurt. Identifying it as a pain seemed an exaggeration, however somehow imperceptibly it made breathing and movement difficult.
Cathy was now paralyzed, both from fear of the alien sensations she was feeling and the sensations themselves. An odd mix of panic and resignation overtook her. If she had been more aware at the time, and had spent less time trying to name the feelings she felt in hopes that a name would bring comfort, she would have noticed the detail of the hundreds of stone statues in the temple. She would have noticed the intricacies they possessed, the way they looked a little too human, and the startlingly intact condition they held for being in such a derelict looking structure. Maybe if she had not strayed from the dirt path she and her tour group was hiking along in hopes of finding undisturbed beauty, or gone inside the sketchy, decomposed temple that, despite looking over a thousand years old, had English translations written under the Chinese writing. Maybe she should have questioned the writing at the entrance that claimed the temple would 'destroy and rid all evil spirits,' -- as some things out there seek vengeance, and to them every human is a monster, an evil spirit.
|
"Everything hurts," I said.
"Shut up," said Jackson.
I was the pack mule. I didn't really *have* a choice and I knew it. If I had wanted a choice, they told me over and over, I should have said "no" back in Cambodia before I signed up for the Tour. I grumbled about this to myself, and my companion to my right grinned. She and I had been together since the border. She knew what this burden felt like.
Jackson shouted suddenly. My heart skipped a beat. Were we finally here?
"We've had a long trek. It's been two months since we set out from ***kkssshh***, and now the promised day has come." In hindsight, it should have been obvious that we had arrived, given that the entrance to the building was glowing. "We've all taken the preparations. Well, most of us."
Jackson pointedly glanced at us two.
"We will all receive our benediction. Each and every one of you has prepared. Each and every one of you is worthy. And so–"
*Fuck this.*
Before they could stop me, I made the decision.
I sprinted forward. Her jaw surely dropped beside me, but I didn't look back. Even with the pack on my shoulders, I could not – I *would* not – be denied the glory the rest of them sought. So before they could join me, I sprinted forward. Her jaw surely dropped beside me, but I was sure of my fate. Even with the pack on my shoulders, burdened as I was, I knew that heaven was within my grasp. I sprinted forward.
Her jaw surely dropped beside me. Each millisecond felt like an eternity. I smiled as I walked, ran, *flew* toward the door... and for a moment, it smiled back.
I sprinted forward.
Her jaw surely dropped beside me.
My fingers reached the entrance to the temple –
A gust of wind. The pack flew off my shoulders. A stabbing pain in my chest. I looked down. The arrow had pierced me just below the heart.
"We've all taken the preparations. Well, most of us."
I looked up. Jackson smiled at me.
| 2017-12-02T00:24:52
| 2017-12-01T21:46:04
| 29
| 13
|
[WP] On everyone's 18th birthday at noon, one word appears in their skin, depicting their career or purpose in life. On your birthday you're staring at a clock showing 11:59am, family and friends gathered around for your reveal.
Path 1: Noon strikes, and you stare at your forearm intently. 12:01, still nothing appears.
Path 2: one word fades in slowly, followed by a second...
|
*11:59 PM*
My family gathered around me, silently waiting. We were all eagerly anticipating the Choosing, a lame name for a cool time.
*12:00 PM*
My mother smiled at me. She grabbed my arm and looked as the word as it appeared.
"What is it?" a chorus of family members asked.
She frowned. I took my arm back and took one hard look.
**Nudist.**
|
I sat there, waiting. Friends, family, all waiting to see the word. Would it be SCIENTIST, as everyone thought? Or would I get ARTIST? Maybe TEACHER? Who knew, until 2 appeared in mine. The only ones with 2 were the bigshots. But then... I saw them. MASTER ASSASSIN appeared. I walked to my room, grabbed the Remington 700 and MP7, picked up my backpack, threw 2 boxes of ammo in, and walked outside, off into the sunset.
--------------------
2 years later
--------------------
There I am, with my spotter, laying in the snow, snowboard beside me, ghillie on. Down the hill, my target awaits. I take aim, and fire. He crumples with the hit. I strap my bindings on, and my spotter puts his skis on. We ride down the slope, and see the body. I whip out my camera, snap a picture, and pull his wallet and IDs. I take my sat phone and dial up a number. "Auth code" the other end answers. "Alpha 9 2 2 4" "Roger, agent Smith. Sailfish is a success?" "Confirmed, Sailfish was successful. En route to CABIN." and I hang up. I look at my arm again, and think, just another day as a MASTER ASSASSIN.
| 2017-03-16T02:03:50
| 2017-03-15T21:30:06
| 71
| 26
|
[WP] Rumor has it that Canadian geese store all of Canada's hatred and anger. Making Canadians the "nice country". Today the last Canadian goose has died.
|
It was more of a wheeze than a honk that signalled not only the death of the last remaining Canadian goose, but, and this was unbeknownst to all at the time, the last thread connecting Canadian politeness to the mortal realm.
As the veterinarian watched the goose lay down its head slowly, he could’ve sworn he heard a blood curdling scream in the distance. It wasn’t the safest of Vancouver suburbs that his practice was situated in so he assumed it was either teens playing around or perhaps a tv from the apartment next door. Either way, he knew it was likely going to be followed by a polite apology to those the scream had unsettled.
Unknown to him, and the unsuspecting world around him, that was an apology that would never come. In fact, not a single synonym or extrapolation verging on an apology would ever leave the lips of a Canadian again.
Admittedly it was never known that there was any semblance of linkage between the population of Canadian Geese and the underlying politeness of Canadians. However, when the last goose died, it became all too real and all too known that such was the case. It was like something out of a low-budget zombie uprising really; swarms of Canadians spilling over the border into the United States, refusing to follow proper protocol and oblige any form of paperwork, fuelled by nothing more than syrup, hockey bloodlust and a repressed anger fettered for over two hundred years.
Across the world reports of Canadian expats refusing to apologise, rudely pushing into queues ahead of their turn and laughing at others’ misfortune took over the news channels and websites.
They hadn’t completely lost their humanity, but they had lost the last shred of what separates them from their polar opposites. Without politeness, without restraint, that final honk had turned them into ... Americans.
••••••
Trust me, my writing is way better than how I’m currently asking you to check out my other writing prompt replies at r/VerboseBuffalo
Read and (hopefully) enjoy, always open for feedback!
|
25 January 2054
If a non-Canadian is reading this journal found on my dead body: Fuck you. UN troops are currently hunting all guerillas in the forest, and I might be found at any time. I'm writing this to preserve my legacy. I was born in Ontario, Canada in the year 2030, four years before Canadian geese went extinct due to a major epidemic amongst them. My first memories consist of saluting to our black and white flag and shouting "Hail Order-State Canada!" At 18 years old, I've joined the Canadian Ultranational Socialist Party Youth Wing. As a lower party member, a part of our plans have been shared with me. We were going to nuke the entire world, period. Why? Because we hated everyone. Everyone, including ourselves. To whoever is reading this: I hate you too. We were and are so full of hatred and anger, but we were not irrational. We had to cooperate until we achieved our goals.
It was going well until we tested our first nuclear weapon... The United States government had detected it and the CIA's unbelievable reports about our plans turned out to be true. A global coalition formed against us and invaded our nation. The war was brutal and every Canadian citizen that happened to be on the way had to be killed. Today, there are less than a million of us left. I fled to the woods after Fall of Toronto with fellow party members and we're continuing our struggle through guerilla warfare here. Even if only one Canadian remains, the world will burn. I will not be taken alive by the Coalition troops.
Goodbye, Journal
| 2019-12-14T18:22:22
| 2019-12-14T13:40:50
| 74
| 31
|
[WP]A retired super villain is in the bank with his 6 year old daughter when a new crew of super villains comes in to rob the place.
|
Wolfgang shifted his weight, trying to ease the discomfort in his hip, as he stood in line with his granddaughter, Emma, at the Citysburgh Metropolitan Bank. Emma, clutching her favorite stuffed dog, gazed about at the ostentatious pseudo-Classical columns and gold leaf décor. The bank tried to make itself look like a historical building, but this was at least its fourth reconstruction. Wolfgang himself had destroyed it once, fifty years ago, trying to access its vaults. He smiled to himself, remembering the astonished look on Rock Duchess’s face when she arrived to save the day, only to find the entire building blown to smithereens. How young and foolish they had both been!
He looked down at Emma, wondering if she would follow in his footsteps. If she did, he would have to teach her about the folly of robbing banks.
The line began to creep forward, when suddenly, Wolfgang felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up. He glanced up at the fisheye mirror and confirmed his suspicions- three young men were standing outside the glass doors of the bank, wearing ridiculous outfits and preparing to make a dramatic entrance. He squeezed Emma’s hand and gave her a wink. “Whatever happens next, Emma, don’t be scared. Bullies thrive off of fear.”
She looked back up at him with her big brown eyes, “Okay, Grandpa.” She didn’t even flinch when the glass shattered and the other customers started screaming.
“Everybody on the ground…NOW!” shouted a gruff male voice. Everyone dove to the floor, covering their heads and whimpering- everyone except for Wolfgang and Emma.
Wolfgang turned to face the robbers with a smile. “You’ll have to forgive me. I’m an old man, and with my sore hip, I’m afraid if I get down on the floor, I’ll never get back up.”
“If you don’t get your old ass on the floor right now, I’ll put you on the floor and make sure you never get up.”
The three young men wore matching purple and black spandex outfits. The man in the middle, the one who was doing all the speaking, was holding purple balls of flame. He wore purple-lensed goggles and had matching purple hair. The young fellow to his right had glowing blue eyes and seemed to be partially made of ice. The one on the left was a half-man, half-beast whose costume had evidently ripped at some point during his transformation.
Were he fifty years younger, Wolfgang might have been intimidated. As it was, he sighed and addressed the cowering customers. “Everyone, please stand up. Don’t be ridiculous. This is nothing but a roving gang of children trying to steal some lunch money. Don’t let them push you around just because they have powers and you don’t.”
There was confused muttering amongst the crowd. A few people even stood up.
Predictably, the spandex-clad trio hesitated. These inexperienced groups rarely knew how to react when bullying didn’t work. The flame guy was visibly angry. “Are you crazy, old man!?” He launched one of his flame balls toward Wolfgang’s face.
Wolfgang barely flicked his wrist. A small portal appeared, absorbed the fireball, and vanished. He gave an exaggerated yawn. “You boys are an embarrassment. Truly.”
The beast-man took a step back. “Th…that’s the Black Baron. No way I’m screwing with that guy. I’m out of here.” He took off running on all fours.
The icy fellow said nothing, but started backing away slowly, leaving Mr. Purple Flames alone in the doorway. The rest of the bank customers rose to their feet, dusting themselves off and shooting angry glares toward the would-be robber.
Wolfgang looked the young criminal up and down. “When I look at you and this young generation of villains, it makes me sad. My granddaughter here might want to follow in my footsteps someday, but if you’re the type of criminal she’s going to learn from, I fear for her future.” He shook his head. “It’s an impressive power you have there, son. Now learn to put it to good use. Your first lesson is: Don’t rob banks. It’s literally the dumbest crime you can commit.”
“Y…yes, sir, Mr. Black Baron.”
“Good, now get out of here before I change my mind and send you to another dimension. You’re making me miss the Law and Order marathon.”
Purple Flames lowered his head and sulked away. For the first time in his life, bank customers cheered for the Black Baron.
|
"Damn kids. Always trying to one-up the classics. Just look at their rookie errors: everybody hands up, not rounding up the security guards... child's play. I could do better than this. I *should* do better than this. But I gave it up for *her*... *for them*. I would never want her to see who I really am. It'd break her heart and I would lose both. No, today I am one of the robbed. Just a powerless civilian. Now now, child don't be scared, the worst thing they could do is..." *bang.*
| 2015-02-06T22:15:19
| 2015-02-06T20:41:07
| 565
| 33
|
[WP] Inventing Bacteria that ate carbon dioxide was a miracle. Releasing it into the oceans, nature began to flourish intill it continued eating, taking more carbon dioxide even from the air. Humanity to survive, had to return to the mass burning of fossil fuels thus began a new era of steam punk.
|
It was originally a life saving event, we discovered how to genetically engineer bacteria that would eat carbon dioxide while.producing a carbon rich skeleton that they leave behind as they grow aptly named coalsilite. What we didn't understand was how effective it would be at sucking up the carbon from the atmosphere.
It started out slow, the world's temperature started to come down as expected, storms were less frequent and everything started stabilizing. Prices of food started to rise as the population was able to expand. But each year it seemed like there was less and less food as prices went higher and higher. Crop yields all over world were falling but more than that big animals numbers were reducing, whales, elephants, bears, dolphins were seeing declining numbers everywhere. Farmers were having troubling feeding livestock every year. Scientist then discovered that the CO2 level was so low in the atmosphere that plants and algae were not reproducing as fast and not growing big enough. The entire environment was collapsing from the bottom up and since the new coalsilite bacteria was inedible for any other know creature something had to be done.
Lucky for humanity coalsilite deposits burned just like coal but released pure CO2. Scientist were able to figure out the exact amount that needed to be burned every year to stabilize the environment. At first this was just done in open fire pits dotted all over the world. But people soon discovered that by using the heat "waste" product we could power almost everything in our lives from cars to air ships to floating air fortresses that could burn coalsilite anywhere around the planet that needed it. Soon enough the sky fortresses became self-sustaining communities with families that would live there whole life taking care of their sky city. This brought on a whole new way of life of steam powering everything in a majority of people's lives.
|
"The world moves on. Powered by the great flames of god. We must burn. Let the spirits that be guide you. See the dancing flames that once spoke the truth to prophets. Listen to the voices from the orange. For they lead us to light. They lead us to salvation. So tonight, eat, dance and make merry. Pray to the fires. Pray to the ever changing nature. For that's the one unchanging rule. Change."
The celebration continued on. The flames danced on as the the moon rose higher and higher. We all danced around them, like moths. Never daring to stray far from the fire. The life force.
We danced and danced till our feet gave up. And then we danced some more.
********
The gongs woke me up from my slumber and I forced myself out of bed. I was on E-Duty tonight.
I got out and joined my team. I felt my face flushing as I saw her. Athena. I remembered last night at the celebration as she had danced. She always danced alone, never with a partner. Someone had once said that the only partner that could keep up with her was the fires. Perhaps it was true. I remember that she was perfectly in sync with the flames as they side stepped and turned. One way and then the other. I remember forgetting to breathe as I saw her move. The sudden of her thigh as her skirt inched up as she turned and ...
"Arthur."
"Yes, sir."
"Focus. On your task. Not on people."
I lowered my head as felt everyone's gaze on me. Had she turned around and looked at me? I felt like an idiot as I nodded and just looked ahead.
Captain handed us all our supplies. "Remember, the target today is 75 each. If you don't feel good, stop. We would rather you miss your target than have you come here and use up valuable medical supplies."
"Yes Sir." All of us responded in practiced unison.
No one in our group had gotten to 75 ever. Most anyone had ever got had been 67 and it had been her. I felt my face flush as I remembered when that had happened. She had been weak and almost on the verge of collapse. She had staggered and I had been the closest. I had rushed to help her and had helped her to the jeep. Almost involuntarily, my hand went to my left shoulder where she had rested her head. I could almost still smell her smoky fragrance.
She was amazing all around. Maybe one day, I could get 75. Maybe then she would finally notice me. Maybe, just maybe, she would be the one.
The jeep started and I let the exhaust rush over me, feeling it go right down to my lungs. All of us climbed in the massive vehicle. It was big enough for all of us to sit separately and be lost in our worlds. For all the time we spent together in our commune, we were not friends. There were no friends anymore. Almost as if the monsters had eaten at it just like they had eaten up our CO2.
And just like that, we were out of the friendly gates and out in the big bad world.
I did a final check. Gun. Tranquilizer. Shovels and a small trowel.
And so it began.
******
We headed back to our community in the evening. No one had gotten to 75. The most we had was Dale with 63. We were all exhausted and traveled back in silence, sipping on our waters. You couldn't drink it too quickly or you would puke. I had found that out the hard way on my first trip.
I felt it before I saw it. The air changed the closer we came to our city. Cleaner. Easier to breath.
We entered the city and handed in the equipment.
The captain read out the scores. "Dale. 63. Athena. 46. Wally. 56. Arthur 61. Jen. 54. Good job everyone. Dale, you're the leader for the day. Athena, your performance has been getting worse. Get your head in it young lady. On the other hand, Arthur. You've been getting better and better. If you keep this up, I can believe that you'll be the first of this group to make it to the target. Now, go say your prayers and head home."
It was true. As I had gotten better and better, she had gotten worse and worse. I wondered if I should go talk to her. But she was already on her way to the fire. I sighed. It was for the best probably. If I ever talked to her, I knew I probably wouldn't be able to talk anyway.
She was on her knees, head bowed respectfully. Her lips moved quickly. I wondered if she was praying for something. I wished I knew what. I had never said a word to her but I was sure that I would move mountains for her to get what she wanted.
I knelt in front of the fire too. I wasn't too much of a believer but it's what everyone did. I sang the lyrics of my favorite song and when enough time had passed, I got up and looked around. She was already gone. I sighed and headed home.
***********
"Grannie, tell me about the before."
"You silly boy. I've told you all the stories already."
"Tell them again. We've only got an year now."
"True." She smiled. But I saw her eyes. They were not smiling.
"Grandma what it we left. Away from here. Where we wouldn't have to..."
"Sshh. Don't even speak like that, boy. It's the circle of life. We must all die eventually. This way, at least we keep the fire burning."
I moved closer to her and she ran her fingers through my hair. She was right, of course.
She started her story. "Many, many centuries ago, we lived in cities. There were..."
My mother's voice called out to me from the outer room. "Arthur, there's someone here to see you."
"Who is it mom?"
She stood at the door with a smile. "I think you better go see yourself."
I headed out the door, wondering what was up with my mother.
I did a double take as I looked at the familiar figure standing at our door.
"Athena?"
"Arthur, I need your help."
| 2020-05-15T14:03:41
| 2020-05-15T13:34:52
| 14
| 10
|
[WP] You own a coffee shop, and you make some damn fine coffee. After decades of running the place, one of your most loyal patrons approaches you, reveals themselves as some kind of immortal being (a god, vampire, etc.), and offers to make you immortal as well, as along as you keep running the shop.
No idea why it says ‘along’ instead of ‘long.’ Oh well, my bad.
|
The air was thick and earthy. Occasionally hazelnut or vanilla -- or a scent you couldn't quite pin -- would cut through the haze like a knife blade, and then vanish the moment it met your tongue, leaving you with a longing, and a dollar less in your wallet.
Jorge ground his coffee the same way he'd always done: with sweat and aching hands, with a half-grin, half-grimace. No machines in his place. Never would be. He'd made a promise to someone long ago that he'd never change how things were done. Never close the old place down, neither.
He intended to keep his promises.
There had been a time though, a little while before the promises were bound, when Jorge had been ready to close shop. He'd had no choice, really. He'd even gone so far as to announce it, and to board up the front-door. It had been that day, as he'd been hammering in the last nail...
Ah, was so long ago, now. He didn't like to think about it. Melancholy could break a man, and he had work to do. Always had work to do.
The little shop was called Coffee in the Woods, although few patrons these days could tell you why it had such a name. Most would guess it was ironic, the shop nestled in this urban sprawl of glass-churches worshipping the dollar. Perhaps the old man in the corner could remember, if prompted. The man with a head lost in the newspaper on the table, but mind focused, as always, on his long-passed wife. They used to come here together, once upon a time, back when woods really had surrounded the shop, hanging over it like holiday decorations. But the woods were gone, and so was his lover
Still, the scent of the coffee reminded him of her. And so he came back here, every day.
Outside of the cafe's little windows, the world raced by. Suits on their way to the station, to the city, phones the size of coins hanging from their ears like plastic trinkets. Kids running to school or college, or sometimes not. At night, quarrels between lovers, fights between drunks. Moonlight, sunlight, moonlight, sunlight.
Inside though, the world never seemed to change.
Not until today.
"What can I get you?" Jorge asked, as he reached the counter. The lady waiting there was dressed strange for the summer heat. A long grey trench-coat and a wide-brimmed hat, weighing down bouquets of curled blonde hair. But her clothing didn't register with Jorge. Summer, winter, what did it matter to him? He rarely left his shop these days. He'd seen everything outside of it -- at least, everything he wanted to. The bedroom above the kitchen, or the tiny one-windowed lounge next to it, were as far as he got anymore.
"My name is Clara," said the lady, her wet red lips widening, her eyes not.
"What can I get you?" Jorge repeated. "*Clara,*" he added. It wasn't that he was a rude person -- he'd never been rude -- he just didn't have a fondness for extended pleasantries.
"I'm looking for a stake in your business," the lady teased.
This, the way she half-spat 'stake', made him take notice. He looked her over properly for the first time. He glanced at his other customers. This lady wasn't just out of season... She looked out of time. "Yeah? Well nothing's for sale. Wasn't when they bulldozed the woods around me, and still isn't today."
She leaned forward, tips of elbows balancing on the counter. "Maybe a different kind of stake." She opened her mouth just slightly, just enough to show Jorge the elongated teeth, the razor blade points.
"I, uh..."
"There are rules," she said. "Whoever made you this way... He -- or she -- broke them."
"I don't know what you're talking about. You want a coffee? Cause if you don't, well, I got work to do."
"Greed," she said, "Is the enemy of all our kind, Jorge. Do you think I can't smell that metallic tang wafting from your kitchen? The coppery scent that just makes my mouth *drip*. You might be able to disguise it from your patrons, with all those rich aromas, but not from me, Jorge. I know what you are."
Jorge leaned forward until his face was inches from hers. "Listen to me, lady, either you get out of here right now, or I will--"
She raised her hands. "Please. You're but a half breed. If you think you have any strength or power, think again. I could snap your neck with a whisper."
Silence. Then: "What do you want?"
She smiled again, this time it touched her eyes. "That's better, Jorge. Listen to me now: no matter how often you dye your hair grey, or how much weight you tie like pillow-sacks beneath your shirt, it is obvious to everyone that you have been alive for far too long."
His face paled. "So... *What?* What is it you're saying, exactly? You can't mean you're going to kill..."
"You need not die painfully. Not if you help me track the vampire that did this to you. Not if you tell me all you know."
He undid a button beneath his collar as he considered. He'd made a promise. Long ago. He wasn't the kind of man to break a promise like that. Never had been.
"They cannot simply offer you the gift of immortality, just to keep their favourite coffee shop open. Can you imagine if we all started doing so?! We'd be found instantly! Rounded up and executed. Whoever did this to you, they broke a strict code, Jorge. Surely you can see that? Whoever did this, they are the one that has killed you, not me!"
"With all due respect," Jorge said, removing his apron and squaring up to her from across the counter. "That person saved my life."
"Immortality doesn't work like that. I can still end you with--"
"I was dying when they found me. Sure, they liked my coffee. But it was the thought of the cancer killing another friend, that drove them to action. Not the thought of losing the coffee. Of losing me."
"*Either way,*" she said, her voice suddenly quiet, threatening. The calm before the great storm. "You will die painfully, if you don't help me."
"I'll grant you more of a mercy than that, Clara."
It wasn't Jorge's voice. It was an old voice that came from behind her. The unsteady voice of a man who half-wished he was dead himself, but refused to snuff out the memories he carried. Memories. The only thing that kept his wife alive.
Blood trickled out of the corner of Clara's mouth. A metal walking stick, its end carved into a point, stuck out of her chest.
Why the patrons hadn't noticed -- didn't notice even as they dragged her corpse to the back -- Jorge wasn't sure. Perhaps the old vampire would teach him that trick someday.
When they were done, they returned to the counter.
They exchanged no words.
They rarely did these days. Just nods. Maybe a smile.
Jorge knew all too well how the old man liked his coffee. Words would only be wasted between them -- and neither much cared for small talk.
Jorge grabbed the pestle and mortar, a handful of beans, and began.
|
Hansoo knew certain things about life.
The sun rises and sets every day. The seasons change. People age.
Time followed a routine, a schedule it didn’t deviate from.
Hansoo also knew that Tim would be outside his coffee store every day at 9 AM.
His order was always the same.
Double shot espresso, one milk and sugar.
Like clockwork.
Tim was an odd fellow. Stiff, a little too formal. He looked to be in his early thirties but he acted like an old man. Non descript. It would be hard to pick him out of a crowd.
Hansoo couldn’t recall when he had first met Tim. That encounter was lost in a sea of scrawled names.
It was as if Tim had always been there.
Then one day, Tim wasn’t there in the morning.
Hansoo wondered what had happened. The whole day passed, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that this was some momentous occasion.
Hansoo closed his doors at 9 PM and left.
To his surprise, Tim stood outside.
“Hello Hansoo.”
“Tim! How are ya? I didn’t see you today. You ok buddy? You never miss a day!”
Tim smiled, a subtle lift of his lip. “Sorry. I had a lot to think about today.”
Hansoo laughed, patting Tim’s shoulder. “Must’ve been a big deal.”
“Yes. See, I have this job. And I considered making an exception.”
Hansoo raised an eyebrow. This was the first time he’d ever heard Tim talk about his personal life. “You don’t seem the type.”
“Indeed. I’m not the type. But I’ve decided and I’ve come to make you an offer.”
“What for like a job?”
“I suppose you could say that. All you’d have to do is run your coffee store as usual.”
Hansoo chuckled. “I’m already doing that, not planning to stop.”
“I didn’t finish. My real name is Time. Keep serving me coffee and I’ll suspend your aging. As long as you run your store, you will be immortal.”
Hansoo chuckled and snorted. “Seriously? Tim, I didn’t know you had a sense of humor.”
Time snapped his fingers. The world around him stopped, paused like a video tape. Birds suspended in air, cars frozen in the street. The noise of the city nulled to unnatural stillness and silence.
Hansoo was speechless. His jaw dropped and he gawked at the timeless world.
“You see Hansoo, I’ve grown rather fond of you and your coffee store. You could even say I consider you my friend. But to me, your existence is like a blink. Here there gone. And that simply won’t do. So what do you say?”
Time raised his hand, offering it to Hansoo.
Hansoo was quiet. He considered the offer, mulling it over for a few minutes. What did he have to lose?
He shook Time’s hand. “See you tomorrow then.”
| 2019-06-27T05:47:45
| 2019-06-27T05:40:25
| 162
| 57
|
[WP] Alien travelers stopped at Earth to refuel and consult humans in exchange. An allien consulting an astronomer finds a picture of a black hole on her computer. "Oh, you also scare your children with this tale haha". "No, it's a recent photo" she replies. Alien is visibly freaking out.
|
"You observed a black hole? In this much detail? And escaped with your life and mind intact?"
Maria's desktop wallpaper showed a supermassive black hole - an empty black sphere, surrounded by the blazing wheel of an accretion disk, spitting out jets of superheated matter as it was crushed together. The starfield in the background was twisted into rings as gravity bent the light of the stars around the black hole.
Maria shrugged. "Well, technically, it's a computer rendering. Even for our most powerful telescopes, black holes are too far away to see in this much detail, so the cool photos are all artist's impressions. But we can measure the strength of their gravity and the size of the accretion disk, so we can simulate what it would look like to be there in person."
She looked at the alien curiously. "But surely you know all this. You've traveled across the galaxy; you could fly there and take a picture up close if you wanted."
Maria didn't understand why the alien - his name was a psychic image that couldn't be put into words, but the team had been calling him "Nine Suns" - was bothering to make small talk about astronomy with people who hadn't gotten to leave their solar system. She would have thought that it would be like talking to the ancient Greeks about geography, hearing them talk about how much they'd seen of the Mediterranean when you carried a satellite map of the entire globe in your pocket. He had shrugged and said that every race looked at the stars differently.
"I'm told the elders tried it, long ago." Nine was still staring in awe at the image. "They sent a dozen of their swiftest scouts to a region of space where many ships had been lost. Not one survived. They transmitted an image much like yours, followed by screams and silence. But you... you deduced the face of your enemy from a glimmer of photons a quadrillion kilometers away. That is no small achievement."
"An enemy?" Black holes weren't malevolent, they just... existed. They were dangerous, sure. Overwhelmingly huge and massive in a way that was difficult to comprehend, sure. But only in the same way a brick wall was massive. They just sat there. Black holes weren't *out to get you.*
...were they?
Her brain reminded her that a few days ago, she had thought *telepathy* was impossible, and then an alien had started using it to talk to her.
"An enemy," Nine repeated. "A creature of legend, that can twist spacetime at a whim and pluck a ship right out of its warp-bubble. I thought it was a starfarer's story, a legend to explain why drives malfunction or navigators lose their way. But apparently not."
He chuckled. "Each race looks at the stars differently. I always thought that was a metaphor, for how alien minds could be different. I never realized how literal that was. To see this much from so far away, to take the oldest predator of the galaxy and turn it into a decoration for your screen."
"I don't understand. You're saying black holes are *alive?*"
Nine Suns looked away, staring into the black disc at the center of her screen. "I will not say more, for I do not want to taint your understanding with my own. But when your people develop a warp drive, I would urge you to investigate this with all haste. If you can see this much from across the galaxy, what would your people be able to see up close?"
|
"Do you have," the periscope eyes of the green mass of flesh looked down at the device attached to the blob of flesh which was an arm, "petroleum. Yes that's what it is. Do you have petroleum?"
The gas station shopkeeper stared at the alien wide-eyed with shock.
"P-e-t-r-o-l-e-u-m," said the skinnier of the blobby creatures.
The shopkeeper's voice cracked with a squeak. He cleared his throat and said: "It's self-service. I can help if you want."
The fatter of the two aliens laughed. "That would be delightful!"
So, the gas station shopkeeper walked out to the oval ship that was no larger than a car and was made from the shiniest metal.
"That's a small ship."
"The best you can find this side of the galaxy," said the skinny alien.
"Where do you put the fuel?"
The fat alien fiddled with the device on his wrist and a pipe popped up protruding out of the space craft.
"Fill it till it's full," said the skinny alien.
The meter on the pump said 5 liters, then 7, then 10, and the craft started beeping.
"That's it? You can travel through space with that much fuel?"
The fat alien laughed. His flabby personage jiggled all the way through. "I know it's not the most efficient of models."
The shopkeeper did not say anything. He was deep in thought.
"Now can we leave?" said the skinny alien.
"Uh...wait. You have to pay first. Ten dollars."
"Dollars?" the fat alien said and fiddled with his device. "We have these...online accounts."
"Oh sure show me the QR code. I'll fix you right up."
The shopkeeper took his phone out, on his lockscreen was the image of a black hole. The skinny alien screamed. The shopkeeper dropped his phone.
"Hey! Cut it out Xorg. What's the matter?"
"Look...look," said the skinny alien, pointing towards the phone.
The fat alien picked it up and the lockscreen flashed in front of his eyes, but his reaction was stoic.
"It's just an old tale, Xorg. I'm sure this gentleman here uses it to amuse his children. Do you?"
"No. It's a black hole. It's no old tale. They exist. It's a recent photo."
The fat alien laughed. "You aren't fooling me today. What do you know of these things? You are merely an accountant for a petroleum station."
The shopkeeper scratched his head. "Actually, I am an astronomer. I'm working from home nowadays. My brother is in quarantine so I had to run the gas station for a few days."
The fat alien and the skinny alien turned yellow green.
"We need to go! This time is not a good time!" said the skinny alien.
"They will gobble you up, kind human, they will. Keep safe," said the fat alien.
"Wait! What are you going to do?"
The aliens got in their craft. The skinny alien punched some numbers in into a console.
"We are going to drive down this road and at 88 miles per hour we'll be gone!" said the fat alien.
The craft sped away and disappeared in a flash of blue light.
| 2021-12-24T07:40:29
| 2021-12-24T04:45:56
| 538
| 165
|
[WP] The King is dying and decides to abdicate his throne before he dies. During the coronation ceremony, he places the crown on a servant's head and declares him king, rather than one of his two sons.
|
Prince Horace raised an eyebrow at his aging father. "Your Highness, that's... that's your servant. Timothy and I stand before you; why did you go to such great lengths to crown a mere commoner?"
"Silence," King Jerry croaked. "I have crowned the rightful heir!"
"But I'm the eldest," Prince Timothy protested. "If you're going by inheritance, I would be the king."
"And," Horace added, "if you were to go by competence, it would be Sir Kendrick. He has, by far, proved himself to be a wonderfully skilled knight, with the might and intelligence to match even the greatest kings. If you do not wish to pass on the crown to your sons, I suppose I understand that, but... why Ian?"
"Silence!" the king roared. "Ian shall rule after me!"
"Father, he can't walk two steps without tripping on his own feet," Timothy said.
"And he does nothing but gossip all day," Horace exclaimed.
"And he scares the chickens," one of the maids screeched.
The king stamped his foot. "Are none of you listening?! Ian is the rightful heir! He's my son!"
The court gasped in unison. Sir Beritan, a particularly effeminate nobleman, stuck his nose in the air and scoffed, "Even our dear king isn't above fathering bastards!"
King Jerry waved his hand dismissively. "Not like that, you presumptuous pansy. You see, once upon a time, I was convinced that I was... er... impotent, if you catch my drift."
"Catch your... Father, why are you using anachronistic language?"
"Silence! So, I became concerned that I wouldn't have any children. Thus, I grabbed Ian and told him that when I died, he would be my heir. I am going to keep that promise and make Ian king!"
Twelve days later, the kingdom was burnt to the ground.
|
The fire of twilight is chasing the blue from the sky as the cloaked figure reaches the wall at the top of the hill. The wall itself is solid hearthstone, older than the Elders themselves and impervious to even dragonfire; the gate is free of decoration, naked bars of pure black iron. To either side of the entrance, weather-worn statues stare solemnly towards the distant sunset, blades clasped at their sides.
This is a graveyard of kings.
The figure makes his way to the entrance and tests the heavy gate with a gloved hand. Wards carved into the steel bars of the entrance glow faintly. A faint whisper swirls around the man like the suggestion of a breeze. The sound is less like wind and more of the same creed as that of a hand reaching for a sword. He draws back his hood, red hair glinting in the twilight. His voice rings out: "Rowan son of Edre, Left Hand of Robert Deschain."
A breath of silence. The whisper picks up again, now more questioning than threatening. The man nods in response.
"It is."
An almost invisible tension in the air drops away and the whisper fades. The man reaches for the gates and, this time, they open at his touch. He strides through the graveyard, cloak flickering behind him. Of the many plaques, there is only one that appears new and yet unmarred by time and tide, a headstone of white marble.
>ROBERT, SON OF CARINTH, OF THE HOUSE OF DESCHAIN
>9/17 MARK - 24/13 HARVEST
The cloaked man comes to a stop in front of the simple grave. He touches his forehead in salute.
"Sorry it took so long," he says quietly. One hand reaches into his pouch and takes out a pair of keshi reeds. He strikes a match and lights both of them, placing one at the foot of the headstone. The man raises the other to his mouth and takes a long pull, blowing smoke into the darkening sky.
"Took a while to get it through Bridenvale, what with me declared a traitor to the throne and all. And I had a devil of a time with the Rangers, they're trickier than they look."
The man pauses. He considers the grave at his feet.
"But it's done, Robert. The Crown of Seven won't be harming anyone ever again."
The headstone is silent. The pair of guardsmen that appeared behind him, however, not so much.
"Confirm, one trespasser on foot in the Royal Graveyard," one of them is saying. There is the crunch of a crossbow being primed. "Step away from the grave. Place your hands on your head." Then, quieter: "How the hell should *I* know how he got past the wards? That isn't my job."
The man sighs. He raises his hands resignedly and turns to face the guardsmen. One of the sentries takes a step backward with a sharp intake of breath. "Black hands."
His comrade glances over. "What?"
"That-" The first guard gestures at the cloaked man with his crossbow. "That's Rowan Edre!"
"Who?"
"The hand of Robert Deschain!" The guardsman is incredulous. "*He stole the crown!*"
The second guardsman is gaping at both of them now. The first raises his crossbow carefully and aims it at the cloaked man. "Rowan, son of Edre, you are under arrest by order of the high throne. And you're going to have to come with us. *Right now.*"
Silent until now, the red-haired man turns back to the grave. A pair of crossbows immediately swivel to cover him. "Robert Deschain," the red-haired man says formally. "Has all your will been done?"
A confused silence follows. Satisfied, the man turns back to face the perplexed guards. "Alright," he says. "I'm ready."
| 2016-02-12T16:10:01
| 2016-02-12T16:05:40
| 24
| 12
|
[WP] You see numbers above people, telling how many people they will kill given they keep on the same track. Last month you met a seemingly ordinary person with the number 7,431,323,210, or the total population of the Earth.
Edit: Well this blew up.
First of all, I'd like to thank all the talented writers for taking the time to share their gift with us.
Secondly, the prompt is definitely inspired by my favorite story I've read here.
https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/2ns30z/wp_you_are_a_teenager_with_the_ability_to_measure/cmgetim/?utm_content=permalink&utm_medium=front&utm_source=reddit&utm_name=WritingPrompts
|
Stephen looked in the mirror and saw his own number. 1. 1 person he was going to kill if he didn't change something.
"Well," he thought, "how many will that one save?"
He'd first realized what the numbers meant when he passed a drunken man one day in his teens with a 4 over his head. Later he'd seen the same man's face on the television. A mugshot, with a ticker below it saying he'd killed a family of four in a drunk driving accident. It didn't take but a couple more incidents like that and he'd decided to do something about it.
So he stood, staring at his own number in the mirror, wondering if today would be the day to stop number 7. He tucked the 9mm into his waistband holster as he prepared to walk out the door. Legally carried with a license, ironically. He hadn't been caught and had it removed yet. With one last look he walked out the door.
It was on his way to the usual coffee shop when Stephen spotted the man, and his number. 7,431,323,210. The biggest he'd ever seen. Possibly the whole world. He stopped, stunned, and decided he had to figure this man out.
The man ended up going to Stephen's usual haunt, so he didn't need to alter his routine too much. Stephen watched as the man sat down and removed his jacket. Flight attendant, by the looks of the uniform. His mind was racing.
Sure, a flight attendant might hijack a plane, it had been done before and killed thousands. But billions? Maybe if he flew the plane into a nuclear power plant? Military base overseas? Could that start a nuclear war? Whatever it was, he had to stop it
The man checked his watch, donned his jacket, and walked out, still holding his coffee cup. Stephen followed close behind him out the door. The man hailed a cab, and Stephen made his decision. As the cab stopped and the man got in, he jumped in right behind and spoke to the cabbie before the man could.
"Docks."
The flight attendant started to protest, but stopped short when he saw the handgun held low, pointed at him. His mouth dropped open and he blinked several times. Stephen had seen it before. Sometimes this was enough to change the number, but no. Not this time. The man looked back up and saw the ice in Stephen's eyes, and he turned to face the front, eyes moving back and forth rapidly as he tried to think his way out of the situation.
The cab pulled up to the docks on the river, too early for any dock workers to be at it yet in this area. Good. He nodded in the direction of the docks as the man looked at him. He got the idea and exited the car. Stephen passed the cabbie two twenties and put on a cheery voice, but not so cheery as to be memorable.
"Thanks, boss."
Stephen exited and told the flight attendant to walk, punctuating the command with a jab in the back. The man started breathing wheezily, struggling to get breath. This one was going to beg. This one would wrack him with guilt, Stephen knew. The last one who begged had him questioning himself for weeks. But the numbers didn't lie. He'd followed enough people with what had seemed like high numbers at the time, unable to bring himself to kill them, and seen the results. He redirected the man until they found themselves in a remote part of a scrap yard he'd used before.
"Stop here."
"Look, buddy-"
"I'm not your buddy, no talking."
"I just don't know why you're doing this." He coughed then, and it sounded wet. He turned around and Stephen saw the eyes well for the first time. Pink. He'd been quietly crying, then.
Stephen raised the gun to the man's chest, and the eyes went wide.
"Please, I have a-"
"DON'T. I said no talking."
He started putting pressure on the trigger, aiming for center mass like he'd always been trained, then started thinking again. 7 billion. He was reading the number right, it still hung there in the air like a spectre. Who was this man?
The flight attendant stepped forward and Stephen yelled, "Stop!"
He pointed the gun at the man's head for emphasis, then back down. No, he thought. Whatever this one was, he had to make sure. The gun went back up to the man's head and Stephen pressed the trigger.
The bang echoed around the docks, but no one would come to investigate. Damn, head wounds were messy. He'd be late to work today; he'd have to change his shirt. Maybe he'd just call in sick. It was Friday, maybe a three day weekend would give him time to think through this one. Yeah, that would be the ticket.
Monday morning came and Stephen woke up with a start in a cold sweat. He'd had another nightmare about the man. Another sick day. His boss would be okay with it. Stephen so rarely called in. He made the call, took a drink from the half-empty whiskey bottle on his nightstand and fell back into bed.
He woke up again and checked his phone. 3:30. Wait, AM? He'd slept that long? Well, no dreams this time. Not that he remembered anyway. He got up feeling achy. Well, that was what you got for sleeping so long. He grabbed his glasses and noticed a spot of blood he'd missed when cleaning up. Couldn't let someone spot that and ask questions he'd have to make up answers to. He was a good liar, but not having to lie in the first place was best.
He put the glasses on after cleaning them and looked in the mirror. Then he saw it. His number had changed. He took the glasses off and looked them over, Wiping them down again before putting them back on.
7,431,323,209
He blinked hard, but it was still there. His eyes shot wide with sudden clarity, and he looked in the trash bin at the shirt with blood spatter on it. A virus. A flight attendant who could spread it to travellers and other flight personnel who could spread it to more travelers. He'd always thought the numbers meant the deaths would be the fault of the number's bearer, not accidents. But why had his numbers changed?
The head shot. He always went for the chest. The head shot was a spur-of-the-moment decision. The blood splattered on him and now... Now he was infected with whatever it was.
The entire world. He'd thought to save them and now he was to be the agent of the world's destruction. Unless... But could he do it? A sigh.
He felt well enough that he didn't think he was spreading anything just yet. Viruses incubated for a while, right? Yeah, that sounded right. He took a cab to the same scrap yard where he'd hidden the last body. And others. Walking through he remembered the ones he'd brought there. Over there was the gangbanger. Under that car was the doomed flight attendant.
He walked on to a likely place and stopped to survey the sunrise over the scrap yard. He turned around and found himself facing a dirty glass window. He rubbed it clean with his sleeve and tried to get a last look at himself.
The number 1 floated over his head. A wan smile.
The dock workers heard the shot, but they just shook their heads and went back to work.
|
I sat there in my room with my hands in my face. The lights were dimmed as to not strain my bloodshot eyes more. I haven't been been getting the best sleep. I tried. I definitely tried, but each time I closed them, I saw it.
It was just another day in my life. I had gone to work in the morning, taking the public bus across town to my office and it had gone normally. I saw the same usual faces with their death counters above their heads. Most everyone had a faint yellow '0' floating above them. There were a few other numbers, but I didn't pay them any mind. I had come to terms with my strange ability. People killed people, either by murder or accident, it happens and I was just perfectly happy that whenever I looked in the mirror, I saw a 0 floating above my head.
I said hello to Maddie, a cute girl with deep dimples whenever she smiled, which was always. She was in the cubicle next to me and it was customary for us to start the day with a friendly chat, especially on Friday.
She had plans on going to the concert hall where several local bands were getting together for an event. It sounded fun and normally I would have gone with her, however, that wasn't going to happen this time.
I looked up instinctively when I heard a door opening to my right. My first thought was that it was Mr. Johnson, the manager, coming out to tell us to get work since Maddie and often got carried away with our little conversations. It wasn't Mr. Johnson. It was someone I had never seen before. I didn't get a good look at his face because all I saw was the number above this head.
Like a car wreck I couldn't tear my eyes away from it. I blinked and rubbed my eyes to make sure it was real, but sure enough it read, 7,431,323,210.
He walked out of Mr. Johnson's office and left. I was left glass eyed.
I had to excuse myself from Maddie when she became concerned, saying that I felt sick. I promised to talk to her later.
I logged onto my computer and Googled the current population of Earth. It was close enough to be within the margin of error.
That was a month ago. Each day this man would come by the office. It seemed he was a new employee. I avoided him at all costs as I watched his death counter go up higher and higher each day at the same rate as the population rose. It was maddening to just sit in my cube each day and watch this man and not do anything about it.
What kind of horrible catastrophe was he destined to do. Would it be deliberate or would it be an accident. Was he guilty? Was he innocent of intent?
Now, after much deliberation, I know what I must do. They won't understand why, but it's for the best.
I get up and walk over to my bathroom and turn on the sink. I wash my face and then look up into the mirror.
It tears me apart to see it. Above my head floats a dim, yellow number 1.
| 2017-01-08T05:45:23
| 2017-01-08T05:40:44
| 20
| 11
|
[WP] You are the sole normal, unpowered student at a School for the Supernaturally Gifted. You were bullied once. Once.
|
I could feel the blood dripping down my arm
“ what a freak , can’t do anything “ my attacker announced to the crowd. He had lightning fast reflexes…. And me… I had nothing… I don’t even know why I was selected for this school …
Before I could even blink he was behind me and kicked me into a wall … if I just don’t get back up maybe he will back off…. But I was wrong he made his way over to me again ….. but was he moving slower now on purpose?
He threw a punch but I could see it this time…. I rolled to get moved out of the way of it barely
“ looky here for a normie you can move fast when you want to , still won’t be good enough to cut it when you are here”
He started to look exhausted … maybe that was what it was … I picked myself back up and stood up and stared at him … was this just the adrenaline or was everyone else moving…. Slower….
He went to throw another punch but this one was so slow , I easily dodged it and I threw one back and hit him square in the gut
He staggered back “ how… did you move so fast…. No one’s faster then me , no one can react fast enough “ his friend walked in front of him to take over , I knew of him , size of a car , strong enough to move a mountain if he tried , he went to push me away and I felt like I got hit by a telephone pole from just a grazing blow…
It took me a minute to catch my breath but I was not fast enough to stop the punch coming , I put my hand up to block it and I found I could hold him back…. He was struggling to push me? Soon I didn’t feel like I had to try and push back it was effortless , the strained look he had struggling until suddenly he clenched his chest and keeled over
Another student came to his rescue , said his heart couldn’t pump hard enough anymore , a faculty member flew down and broke the fight up , they sent my attackers to the med centre right away and he started escorting me to the office
I don’t know how I got into so much trouble for my first day… but after a few days of recovery no one ever wanted to touch me again…. I was just normal… I didn’t understand why
|
And so it happened, I couldn't let that slide. I mean, of course I couldn't. Why would I ? All those bastards thinking they're so cool, flaunting their skills in the hallway with no regards to other people's safety. I know it's the first time that I was bullied, but I 'll make it be the last.
His ugly face still remains clear in my mind. He had a smirk on his face while lifting me up with only his hand on my face. His eyes were squinting a bit as if to catch the every detail of my expression. Then the burning repeated multiple times until the bell rang. My ears couldn't forget the sound of laughter coming from his friends as they left nor could my face forget the heat, leaving me with burn marks all over my face.
Now, just my reflection in the mirror sufficed to steel my resolve. And now, I brought hell with me.
The next day, I came prepared. In front of his house, right when he left to go to school, I ambushed him. I kicked him on his back, made him fall on his face and tied both of his hands. Without giving him time to think, I started kicking him--once, twice, thrice and a final fourth time.
Leaving me with only the last step. Gasoline! Pouring gasoline all over his body. And just to finish things off, I bent down and whispered in his ear:"you can go now".
Fire spread in the surroundings but all I could pay attention to was his scream while leaving.
| 2022-11-02T08:30:32
| 2022-11-02T08:03:37
| 150
| 58
|
[WP] “Aha! You’re here about the Fifth Horseman job, aren’t you?” says War, in a loud and jolly voice, “well I must tell you, Pestilence and I thought we’d never get an application! We’ve really been swept off our feet these past couple of years... Say, what colour do you want your horse?”
|
War was looking over paperwork when it entered. For a being of pure conflict, he was surprisingly good at paperwork management. Blinding light flooded the room as It entered.
"Angelic Work is down the hallway-. Oh" he distractedly called, before he took a glance.
"Sorry about that. Thought you were someone else."
It stared at him.
"Uh. We've looked over your record. Very impressive, especially for your past as part of the Big G's plans."
Still that gaze. Like a thousand eyes scrutinizing him. There were, he guessed.
"You know, I never expected to get a new member. But you really showed your power this year. Your work with Pesty really took the cake. "
The gaze remained. It had only been a few seconds, but he wanted to draw his sword and attack, run away, anything to get that gaze off. Only Death had ever made him feel like this, but nothing this intense.
"What color do you want your horse?" he smiled awkwardly.
*Gold, so they may see my passing. Gold, the color they use to cover up evil. Gold, so I may show them.*
"Fitting."
*Yes.*
"Just sign your name here, and... Welcome to the team, Truth."
|
"Horse? I prefer to ride a bull if you dont mind, fits better with the motif." Bullshit replied.
War gave a sideways glance across the Starbucks table towards Pestilence, Famine, and Death.
Famine spoke up, "Well thats nice, but we already have a theme going ourselves. Its the Four.."
Death coughed and the masked customers nearby gave a sharp look. Embarrassed for a moment, Death shot a glance at Pestilance. "This is all your fault."
Famine interjected, continuing his point, "...sorry Five *horsemen* of the apocalypse. Not the four horsemen and one bullman. It just doesnt have the same alliteration."
"I have a large soy latte no whip, for Allen!" Yelled the Barista.
"Alliteration? I thought this job was about laying waste to civilization? Tearing down the old world in order to build the kindom of heaven on earth. There was nothing in the craigslist post which mentioned I had to ride a *horse*." Bullshit countered.
"I told you we should have used Indeed." Pestilence muttered.
Famine made an unpleasent face beneath his mask, but it was missed by everyone due to the 6 ft distance they were keeping.
War pulled up the paper in front of him and pushed forward with the interview.
"How about we table that question gor a moment and move on to your resume. It says here you spent the last 20 years at Fox news..."
| 2021-01-02T16:56:37
| 2021-01-02T16:39:02
| 52
| 21
|
[WP] You've never felt the same after learning Morse Code. The rain keeps telling you to run.
|
Why won't they listen?
Why won't anyone listen?
"You never wonder if the rain would give you a message in Morse code?" asked Natalia, in an innocent tone that did not fully hide her fear.
"That would make my day more interesting, I can tell you that much," replied Rene, her Morse code instructor in the army.
Natalia knew that the army was fond of soldiers who knew their way around the code. It was the best, sometimes the only, mean of communications in remote locations like jungles or damaged mountain ranges. A new skill and an opportunity to travel to the unknown, everything a single and adventurous young woman could ask for.
The code itself was surprisingly easy, it only required to learn by heart the translation of each letter, and invoke the inner discipline to translate anything she came by at random for training.
Bird meant -... .. .-. -..
Tree meant - .-. . .
In the evenings, she sat at the transmitter and learned the subtleties of the sound and the pauses, to differentiate long and short, transcribe faster and make it a second nature.
It became a force of habit, looking for random patterns, writing down letters to form incoherent words. To pass time, to avoid boredom while waiting for the next deployment.
Natalia remembered the first time she understood the rain. A few drops resonated more deeply and vibrantly than others, following the mechanical rhythm of the code.
*Run, coward, run.*
A long pause.
*Run, coward, run.*
Repeated as long as the rain lasted.
Quite the imagination she had. At least, that's what she thought then. But the message kept coming, no matter where she was when it rained, it was always the same cold threat.
Rene's answer was enough to convince her she was too imaginative. If she alone heard it, then it was only a product of her mind.
The days went on, and the message became almost tedious.
Until it changed. Standing at a window and looking at the horizon, Natalia could not miss the difference.
*I see you.*
A long pause.
*I see you.*
What sick joke was this? Bullying by an insane sergeant? The start of madness? Angry at the world and herself, Natalia left the barrack to walk outside in the middle of the heavy rain. There, with noise coming from all directions, the message was thinned, dulled, drowned out. The rain poured down her smooth face, every drop provoked a fleeting moment of enjoyment on a fragment of her skin. Drenched and cold, she found peace.
A low *thump* brought her back to the present. Hidden by the heavy rain, something had fallen not far behind her. She carefully advanced, and nearly tripped. Something had left a mark, deep in the wet ground. Her own carelessness had damaged the trace, it could have been vaguely humanoid.
Unsure, she hastily retreated in direction of the barracks.
*Thump.*
This time closer.
"Enough!" she shouted.
For a moment, there was no more unnatural noise.
Some drops resonated more deeply than others, as if their echo jumped at Natalia's face and clung to it.
*I am coming for you.*
In the veil of water in front of her, just as a mist started to intertwine with it, she thought she made out a roaring face.
She dodged at the last moment, the fangs sliced a few of her hairs.
She had felt the breath of the beast on her neck, a sick, damp and bloody breath.
And the rain screamed.
*You are mine.*
*Let us rejoice together.*
*Let us be one.*
Natalia ran as fast as she could while covering her ears with both hands, the impact of the beast on her tail ran up her feet and seized her heart, gripping it with a cold hand. The air in her lungs turned to ice, her legs went numb, the desperate escape turned to a crawl.
*There is no escape.*
*In your room, under your bed, in the closet, I will wind you.*
She reached the barracks out of breath and fell through the door into the arms of another soldier and passed out.
At the infirmary, many wondered just what the hell happened to her. Natalia had been witnessed leaving on a walk in the rain, and running back in panic. What had come to pass in-between these two points in time was the subject of much speculation. Friends and superiors visited, worried about her mental health or wondering if a stalked was after her. Blair, Irene, Rene, and quite a few more came to offer kind words. She had none to give back.
Even sleeping pills could not whisk her away into sleep when it rained at night. The drops splashed against the window.
*I see you.*
She left the infirmary when the doctor decided that there wasn't enough to work on, be it physical or mental health. She was to avoid stress and that was it.
|
Secrets slipped through the rain in staccato undulations of long and short. Everything in the world had a Name, every Name in the world had a Purpose, every Purpose in the world a Subversion, every Subversion a Corruption, because of course a subversion by itself is not a wrong thing, and there are many wrong things in the rain.
Doubting Thomas, one of those wrong things, slipped through rain. And the rain whispered to him, in a language he wished he had never learned, *“Run.”*
He did not hear *“Run,”* like a spoken word or like the other rhythmic secrets of Name, Purpose, Subversion, and Corruption. Rather, *“Run”* was the Synthesis of all those things. When the rain whispered his Name, Thomas, he heard the first short beat of word alongside it, short-long-short, di-da-di in the Morse Code conventions that haunted him. When it whispered his Purpose, to listen to the world and the rain and its whispers, Thomas heard the second beat of word, short-short-long, di-di-dah, in the cracks between the command. In Thomas’s own Subversion, his oppressive doubt, he heard the last beat of “Run” in the stamp of his feet on the pavement, splashing through the puddles in a strange, long-into-short trip of a rhythm, da-dit.
And in his Corruption, his trust in himself and himself alone, Doubting Thomas heard an exclamation point made of thunderclaps and lightning.
There was other noise, other rain-whispers to be sifted, and there was talking too, because a woman ran beside Doubting Thomas and she had been talking all the while, been talking since they left their home and ran down the streets and ran out through park and on. Rachel was her name, just Rachel, and Doubting Thomas heard all her secrets in the rain too, and in the beat of her feet against the wet, sopping world. She splashed heavily into a puddle and the splash whispered *“Run.”* She brushed a tree branch and all the little droplets whispered *“Run.”* Doubting Thomas heard them fall, each and every one of them with the same secret.
Her mouth moved, said words like “Where are you going?” and “What’s wrong?” and “Talk to me!” but Thomas did not trust those. They weren’t the rain, and they weren’t the Code. They were screamed not whispered, screamed in such a hoarse, broken voice that Thomas could not do anything but run from them, because his Purpose was to listen, his Subversion was to doubt, and his Corruption was such that he couldn’t trust any soul but his own.
Besides, Thomas thought, people whisper truth, they don’t scream it. Truth hurt too much to be screamed.
Doubting Thomas ran on, drenched by the rain and puddles thrown up by cars, once by mud when he tripped, fell, and sprawled through a patch. Rachel helped him up, said more words to run away from.
Eventually, chest heaving, tears mixing with the rain, hair thin and soaked and scraggly, she stopped. Falling hard to her knees, she screamed her last words with all the ragged-edged force of a blizzard, not a rain storm, which only frightened Doubting Thomas more because blizzards could not talk, they were no secrets to parse in blizzards, only in the rain.
“Please come back!” Rachel screamed, shrieked, pleaded, begged.
Doubting Thomas ran on, doubting and believing in turns, as the rain blew every which way around him and secrets blew with it.
*Run.*
From time to time on his way out of the city people called questions from beneath their umbrellas and awnings.
“Are you okay?” an old woman in a fuzzy, lopsided hat shouted.
“Slow down, champ!” a big man in a blazer said.
“You fucking asshole!” a pale, scrawny kid in a sports car shouted when Thomas ran through the walk sign and brakes screeched red amid the evening murk. Doubting Thomas did not know if he doubted the kid, the rain had whispered similar things before.
He still heard *“Run,”* in the hollows of everything around him.
Eventually his phone began to ring, then ring again, then ring and ring and ring some more as Rachel called. She called until Thomas cried, until his doubt almost washed away with the tears because she had run so far, even when she had a weak heart and a bad knee from that time in college. After all, she had said things even before their run, would say them again now, if the rain told him to answer the phone.
*“Run,”* the rain said, so Doubting Thomas ran. She said things, but there were no secrets in her voice that he could hear, and when she screamed them it scared him very badly. Many things scared him very badly.
Eventually Thomas passed into the suburbs. Night fell, and it became rare to encounter another person on the streets, in rain so cool and callous as this. He passed three people, a couple that shied away from him, a young woman who crossed the street when she saw him running; none of them said a word, save for the young woman who gasped a bit, and the hollow space behind what she did not say was filled by rain that still whispered *“Run.”*
Dawn came, the rain did not end, and no one spoke to Doubting Thomas. It rained for three days and three nights, and on the fourth day, when Thomas rested in a blighted copse off I-79, the rain stopped.
He caught his breath, drank from a puddle, massaged blistered, horrifically aching feet.
The world was silent, there were not even birds, and on this stretch of the road, at this hour of the morning, there were no cars. Doubting Thomas pulled out his phone— it was dead. Silent.
He splashed his bare feet into a puddle till the water rose and fell in a great, scattered flood, but the drops were too scattered to make words and tell secrets, and there were too many hollow spaces in the world for a puddle to fill.
Silent.
Silent.
Silent.
Thomas, Doubting Thomas, walked until he found an old, abandoned trailer, slipped into the silent room, sat down in a dusty chair that creaked loudly but did not speak. He brushed paraphernalia off the single table, listened for a secret in the clatter. Silence.
He stared at his phone for a very long time, as the sun crept up on the horizon, then over, then sat again. Sometime in the dark, it rained.
And the rain whispered *“Run.”* Doubting Thomas, trusting only in himself, listened to all the world whispering that word, *“run, run, run, run, run, run, run,”* into the hollow places where before there had only been silence. He stood, stretched for a few minutes, and then he ran to a place where all the words were only whispers, and there wasn’t anyone left to doubt.
Behind him, in a broken down trailer some miles off I-79, his phone sat on a dusty table cleared of paraphernalia and laden down with discarded dreams.
\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_
r/TurningtoWords
| 2021-09-28T08:55:03
| 2021-09-28T08:37:14
| 89
| 54
|
[WP] The Second American Civil War. What started it, and who are the two sides?
|
"There isn't any money in fighting overseas anymore."
That's how the pitch had started. And it was met with a deafening silence around the room.
The conference had been called after years of heavy losses in the arms industry. CEOs and executive leadership from all the major arms companies were present. A few representatives from the big mercenary corporations had also been invited. Close to two hundred people had arrived at the conference hall to discuss options and strategies for the decline in sales.
"The world is too poor. America is the only country supplying us with any business and their opponents are too poor to justify any more military spending. It worked for long enough, but now we've gotten to the point that we can't sell them on anything. They are just too powerful. We need a new approach, and I think I've got it."
The crowd seemed to lean in as a whole as the young executive paused to build anticipation.
"Civil war."
Gasps and quiet murmuring went around the room and slowly built to loud conversations taking place. The young man took a seat and waited while they deliberated. Over the next few hours they talked and debated and went over options and at the end of the day, they'd come to an agreement. War it would be.
The rest was handled by lawyers and salespeople. Who would take what products, what shipments. Government leaders were called and informed of the new plan, and asked to place their orders now. Troops would have to be divided up. New soldiers would have to be trained. Equipment would have to distributed. New weapons invented. Counter-weapons to those weapons created. It was going to be big and everyone wanted a piece.
Of course they had to choose an issue. This was hotly debated. Some wanted to stage a class war, but it was decided that this would be fairly one-sided and won too quickly. Others favored religion, but it was too unstable of any idea without any guarantee that religions would jump on board. Finally though, after much deliberation, it was decided that it would be race again. "If it ain't broke, don't fix it" was the colloquialism that won over most of them. They knew they could easily build tensions based on race, and with such a diverse country, it could be segmented even further, meaning more profits for them.
The second American Civil War began in 2061, and was anything but.
|
The battle of Caesar's Palace was a decisive decisive one. The second B.I.G. battalion colloquially known as the "Bad Boys" had pushed the main force of the 2P army, "Death Row", into the desert.
With Las Vegas fallen, The soldiers of Death Row hoped to retreat through the desert, and march back to the capital through Death Valley national park.
While the low riding pants (colloquially known as sagging) worn by both armies were useful during the Glock shootouts within Las Vegas' city limits, it made traversing the desert painfully slow.
By the time the "Death Row" army arrived back to Los Angeles, more than 2/3 have died of dehydration. With defeat imminent, The treaty of *Coast2Coast* was signed, which laid a number of provisions on West-Coast rappers, which included:
* Y'all a bunch a bitches
* We get rich, y'all bitch
* Wu-Tang in the house, bitch
From *A history of the East Coast-West Coast Rappers' Feud*
| 2013-10-19T22:10:28
| 2013-10-19T21:52:49
| 34
| 19
|
[WP] A group of fantasy adventures has one of their members replaced by a Doppelganger. The rest of the group realizes what happened, but keep pretending to be fooled since they like the doppelganger a lot more than the guy it replaced.
|
"That was..." Brawg began, staggering over the bodies of the fallen goblins, his boots squelching in the treacle-like blood.
"Far too..." said Vesperr, returning her bow to her back, and beginning to pluck out arrows from the deceased enemies.
"Oxyrin!" finished Oxyrin, his pointed hat falling over his eyes once again. Dribble oozed down from his mouth and his pupils spun this way and that, as if two compasses confused by magnets.
Brawg and Vesperr looked at each other for a moment, then burst out laughing. Brawg brought a thunderous hand down on the wizard's back. "Don't ever change, Oxyrin!" he said.
"Oh, Oxyrin," grinned Vesperr, "you're the reason we do this, you know? For that smile on your face." She wiped away a the spittle from his lips, then shook her finger, sending the spit plopping onto the ground.
"Oxyrin!" Oxyrin repeated. A pointed tongue darted out of his mouth and latched onto a fly that was hovering over a brutalised body below.
"I'm going to pretend I didn't just see that," said Brawg with a wink. "Okay gang, I'd say we're all done here. I believe its time to go collect our reward."
"Not so fast, my friends," came a mysterious voice from behind them. Only, when they turned, there was *nothing* behind them.
Slowly, the blue-robed wizard hazed into existence. "It is I, the *real* Oxyrin! I have been trapped for the longest time, but I have finally outsmarted my captors and have returned to my friends. For no one is as clever as the Great Oxyrin!"
Brawg and Vesperr glanced at each other, then let out a joint gasp.
"Quite you might gasp," said Oxyrin, as he turned and pointed an accusing finger at the other blue wizard, who was now on all fours chasing after a spider. "For that fellow, has fooled you, my dear friends. But he is nothing more than an impostor! A Doppelganger! A fake, a fraud, and dare I say it, a phoney."
Brawg nudged Vesperr and they both gasped again.
"How.. erm, how can we believe you?" asked Vesperr, her top lip wet with nervous sweat. "How do we know he--"she pointed to the to the wizard, who was now chewing on something--"isn't the real Oxyrin. After all, he would have had to fool us both for two entire years."
Oxyrin rolled his eyes. "Hardly a challenging task. You two never were the"--his hands burst into blue flames--"brightest sparks. Ha. Hahaha."
Brawg's muscles tensed. Vesperr put a hand against his chest.
"That's not proof enough. For our Oxyrin can also do such petty parlour tricks."
"Very well," Oxyrin sighed, "I shall prove it. We shall have a wizard-off."
"Smart," said Vesperr. She let out a high pitched whistle, at which the other Oxyrin came bounding over to her.
"Oxyrin!" he sputtered as he arrived.
"Is that all he can say? How could you *possibly* believe he was me?"
"Good point," said Brawg. "His vocabulary is much larger."
"Oh. You made a joke. How very amusing."
"Okay," said Vesperr. "Round one of the wizard-off. *Shape-shifting.*"
"What? What a stupid round," complained Oxyrin, "for sniffing out a shape-shifter!" His face was red and a vein popped out of his forehead, pulsating like waves on the ocean. "Unbelievable idiocy. How you have possibly survived this long without me to guide you -- heaven only knows!"
"Oxyrin!" replied the other Oxyrin.
"Well, if you can't do it and he can..." said Brawg shrugging, "then I guess we know who the real wizard is."
"Oh... *pish!* Very well. And what must we change into, pray tell?"
"Something very small. To really challenge your morphitisation skills. A fly. Simple. First one to transform into a fly wins."
"Sala kazoo, Sala kazam!" shouted Oxyrin. There was a puff of smoke that left Vesperr and Brawg coughing. As it cleared, and only for the briefest moment, they saw a fly. Then, they saw a huge, pointed tongue. Finally, they saw an Oxyrin chewing on and then swallowing *something*.
"Oxyrin!" he shouted triumphantly, as Brawg and Vesperr collapsed into a fit of laughter.
"Oh Oxyrin," said Brawg, slapping him on the back "you really are too much."
"And," said Vesperr, "we wouldn't have it any other way!"
|
The miles between them had come and gone, leaving scars and wounds and memories and laughs. The horizon that day was clear, and the world fell into green and yellow, and far away were the mountains, and everything was cloaked in a dream. They had come far. The first peaks of Lankar shimmered in an ephemeral haze.
"We've made it," Keldar said.
"Not yet."
Annastatia was worn, cut and bruised. Her eyes had dimmed some, but even the terrors of the Void had receded for the moment. She was in the present then, looking ahead, same as them all.
None had seen the mountain before. Alton had not believed in it. Haldar had said they would die before they ever crossed the river.
Now he stared with timeless eyes, eyes which had seen things from the Darkness. Eyes which had seen the birth of his kin from the still mirror waters of the Endless Caves. Those eyes had seen more than Haldar could ever have imagined.
"I guess it does exist," Alton said.
He clapped Haldar on the back. An uneasy feeling overcame him with the touch.
*It feels like him,* he thought.
And his thought travelled in the wind of the Void, that invisible world which held all the unknown things, the things that caused madness.
"Yes," Annastatia said.
She looked at Haldar.
"What?" said Keldar.
She shook her head.
They were weary and made camp on the hill. For the days past they had slept during the day, marched in the night. Their bodies were worn and tired, a piece of them all left behind in the Grey River.
*The price was worth it,* Keldar thought.
He was an older man, a knight in youth, and now his world had gone and he was alone but for adventure.
*Is it?*
He could not answer himself and the question lingered, unanswered by even Annastatia. They were quiet there on the hill. Midday came with a scarce lunch and perfunctory talk.
"I've never been so far," said Alton.
They agreed. Home had sunk away like the dying sun, and this endless night of the unknown still had miles yet to go.
"We're alive though," Keldar said.
"Yes," Annastatia said.
They looked at Haldar. Behind those eyes were the midnight of malice. But that malice reflected the sun, and then it was blue and immediate and true.
"I made it," Haldar said. "Barely by the skin of my leather, but I made it."
In the Grey River there were ancient cliffs, hills and holes. There amidst that pocked earth lived the unknown things, the things which embraced the Darkness.
In that place Haldar had fallen into the murky waters of the Grey River and its currents had taken him.
His screams had pierced the Void then, echoing even on the hill they now camped on. Annastatia winced and she saw the time as it floated past in the forever winds of that realm.
"Help!" Haldar cried.
Her hand held her staff. Every inch of her was prepared to hold it for him to grab on to. She saw it happening, feeling his weight and the rescue. And yet she hesitated.
"Help!"
She had remembered the times before. His hand caressing hers, teasing some unwanted strength, threatening in the vaguest of ways. And even then his thoughts were certain of his foul desire.
And so the river had taken him and they all had watched. They had let it happen as the waters surrounded him in an opaque cover, the burial of some unwanted pest, and they feigned the mourning as all good friends should do.
Then they were three.
But he had come back. The first trees were tall and skinny and gave little shade. Their slanting shadows were bars as they passed, looking like prisoners in a dream world, and then from that shifting prison, Haldar had come, wet and worn. The Grey River had taken much from him, he said, and he was different, completely different.
"I left more of my soul there than you," he said.
They looked at him and knew what he was, or what he wasn't. That night they discussed it in secret, and decided they would bide time before doing what must be done.
Three days had passed since then, but that time still had not come.
Sleep overcame them and they rested awhile. The falling sun awoke them to a red and orange sky and their shadows spilled past the hill.
"Statia," Alton said.
He was stretching.
"Yes?"
"I've had a bad dream. Worse than any of the others before."
"Was it of your past? The stealing in your mother's house?"
"No. No it was..."
She saw his face. She touched his head and the after images of the fading dream kindled within her.
Haldar stared beneath a blackened sky, alone and afraid. All around a great water rushed him, surrounding him with its endless sound.
The dream faded and she recoiled.
"I... I have no remedy," she said.
She looked at Haldar. The thing which pretended to be him looked at her and smiled. Though shifters like him were not connected as strongly to the Void, she could feel his thoughts in the air, like some distant food that has long been eaten.
*He means me no malice. Not like his...*
Victim. But she could not say the word.
Keldar walked to Haldar and put his hand on his shoulder.
"How is your wound?"
"Better now," Haldar said.
*He feels the same*, Keldar thought. *He really does.*
Then they packed their things and prepared for another night of walking. Lankar glittered in the night like some crystal, and yet soft as home's bed sheets on a cold night.
"What's there again?" Haldar asked.
He looked at them to see if any suspected. He thought they did. He thought he should kill them, but living in the black had not tainted his heart.
*Never have I seen such beauty as her.*
And in the moonlight Annastatia was some Queen, the kind of which no longer walks this world. Some distant being, ghost-like and tender, and yet strong and hardy with eyes opened into the real world.
*But she is Keldar's.*
And he felt sad. He felt the light on him and looked up.
*I should kill them and have her to myself.*
But she would die first before such things could happen. She would kill him then surely. They already considered the deed. He closed his eyes. The light painted him with a warmth the others could not feel.
*They have not lived in the dark,* he thought. *They are human. Weak and ignorant of the Dark, for they know not of such things.*
"Lankar," Alton said. "The mountain of Dreams. There, as legend goes, is the Spring of Dreaming. One sip of its water will change you. It will make whatever is in your heart come true."
"It can change the world physically?"
"No," said Annastatia. "But it will change *you*. It will change the spirit so that what you hold dearest will come true in a way of its own. It is not a place of wishes."
"It is like the Grey River then?" Haldar asked.
"Yes, in a sense. But it does not take. It gives and cleanses."
Then they were quiet. In their hearts they were uneasy. Haldar's death weighed immensely on them.
*The Spring will clean me,* Keldar thought.
Annastatia held him. Her face was pretty in the white light and he looked at her and loved her anew once more. He put his arm around her.
*I am an evil man,* he thought.
She looked at him with those sad eyes of hers.
*If that be true, then so are we all my love.*
He squeezed her hand.
*What hope is there then? This guilt weighs too heavy on me.*
*The Spring, as you've thought. The Spring is our only hope. Haldar was a fool. The River took him of its own choosing. His heart was black, blacker than this imposter.*
"I like you," Alton said to Haldar. "I don't know if you understand, but I'll be truthful. I like you."
And Haldar, the thing, understood as much. It too had thoughts that raged in an incomprehensible storm.
"I like you too," he said. "All of you."
"Then may the Spring save us," Keldar said.
And they marched in silence as the night slowly passed.
-
*Hi there! If you liked this story, please consider my subreddit r/PanMan. It has all my WP stories as well as some original ones. I'm slowly working on it and getting it to look nicer, so I promise it will look better soon. Thank you!*
| 2017-09-15T05:03:01
| 2017-09-15T04:39:41
| 788
| 262
|
[WP] Write the happiest story you can think of and completely destroy the atmosphere with a plot twist in the final sentence.
|
As I held my newborn child in my arms for the first time, I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes. This tiny, perfect, bundled up package of joy was finally here after so many hours of labor, months of pregnancy, and years of trying conceive. I was so overwhelmed I couldn't speak at all, nor hear what the doctor was saying, even as he slowly covered my wife's face with the hospital bed sheet.
|
Billy the pretty pink pony skipped down Rosemary Lane, stopping only to sniff the brightly coloured flowers in the hedges, or watch the butterflies fluttering through the air.
It was a beautiful day – the sun was shining, there wasn’t a cloud in the sky, and the birds were singing in the trees – and Billy was on his way to town. It was market day, and he was going to see what he could trade the vegetables from his vegetable garden for.
He was getting close to town when he heard someone call out his name.
“Billy!” the voice was saying from the side of the road.
Billy stopped in his tracks and peered at the hedge. Perched there on a branch was Mr Fluffkin, the red squirrel.
“Hello there, Mr Fluffkin,” Billy said with a smile. “How are you?”
“I’m absolutely terrific,” the squirrel replied. “And where are you off to on this fine day?”
“I’m off to the market,” Billy replied, nodding towards the basket balanced on his back, which was piled high with potatoes, carrots, aubergines, and more.
“How about you?”
“Why, I’m heading there too,” Mr Fluffkin replied.
“I don’t suppose you’d like a lift?” asked Billy. “It’s always better to travel together, after all.”
Mr Fluffkin beamed. “Well, if it’s not too much trouble.”
“Not at all. Hop on,” Billy said.
The squirrel scampered up Billy’s leg and, once he’d made himself comfortable on Billy’s head, they set off.
It didn’t take long for them to reach town, and the place was bustling – it was market day, after all, and creatures had come here from far and wide. Billy trotted along the streets, heading for the square in the middle of town, saying hello to all the creatures he knew as he passed them by. Every kind of creature imaginable was there – foxes and badgers, elephants and voles, leopards and rabbits. Just no humans, of course.
The town square was lined with stalls, selling everything from freshly-baked pies to toys for the little ones. Billy and Mr Fluffkin parted ways soon after they arrived – Mr Fluffkin said he was looking to buy a new jacket for himself, while Billy was hoping to get some ribbons for his glittery mane.
Billy was bartering with Barbara the ocelot, trying to swap some of his vegetables for a slice of her apple pie, when he heard a loud, high-pitched scream.
“The humans are coming!” someone yelled from the other side of the square.
Panic ensued. Everywhere Billy looked, animals were wailing and running back and forth, knocking over stalls and pushing each other to the floor.
Billy sighed. It had been hundreds of years since humans had been the dominant species, but somehow they were still clinging on. And they always insisted on doing what they’d always done – attacking the other animals, ruining things for everyone else.
Billy reached back to grab his basket, and put it down on the cobbles. It was time to do something. He charged across the square, darting through the crowd and jumping over the wreckage of stalls when he had to. Eventually, he saw a crowd of humans gathered around some dead animals and cheering. Billy gasped when he saw Mr Fluffkin sprawled on the ground in a pool of blood.
There was a sound behind him, and Billy spun round. He saw a man there, dressed in rags and holding a rusty knife in one hand. The man smiled and raised the knife above his head, but Billy acted fast.
With a snarl, he bared his teeth and sank his teeth into the man’s neck, tasting the warm, coppery blood. The man collapsed in a heap, a chunk of flesh still in Billy’s mouth. He gulped it down, licked his lips, and turned to the rest of the humans.
He had a taste for blood - they were next.
| 2017-05-25T06:54:44
| 2017-05-25T00:29:16
| 130
| 63
|
[WP] Your mind automatically slows down time as imminent danger approaches. This has helped you to become an athlete, great with parlor tricks and avoid death at every turn! Today, a very attractive member of the opposite sex walks past and flashes you a flirty smile. Time begins to slow.
What do reddit. What do.
|
Danger. That's a word I haven't ever truly understood. I know the idea of danger, but I never feel it. When I get into "dangerous" situations, everything clicks into place and I can just go. The world slows down, and I can think, I can solve my problems. There's no excitement in these times for me, no adrenaline rush. It's all just a methodical reaction to me, this response to danger.
Danger. It's only now, 22 years into my life, that danger feels real. Walking down the street I see a girl, a beautiful girl. She has taken all of my attention as I walk by, and she clearly noticed. I say she notices because she flashes me the most breathtaking smile, one that seems to draw me in even more. It's such an amazing sight that it takes me until I'm almost passed her to realize that time had begun to slow the minute she smiled. In that moment, I knew the danger was real, because this was not a situation I was prepared for. My life had been in danger before, but I always knew what to do. Here, in front if the girl with the smile, though, I was at a loss. My fast hands could do nothing for me here.
Danger. As I continue to contemplate danger, and the girl's effect on me, she passes me completely. I immediately notice time returning to normal, since it coincides with my loss of her. In that moment, I truly understand danger. I know the potential for loss, but I also now realize the potential to gain so much more. With that, I turn around and quickly introduce myself, no longer caring about the world slowing down around us.
Edit: Reformatted to make it a little easier to read
Edit 2: Thank you all for the support and the compliments. I'm not normally much of a creative writer (science student so all my writing is very straightforward and formulaic) but it was nice to do something a little different, and I'm glad people seem to really like it!
|
Shit, a spy! I thought and caught the woman and searched for weapons, but I couldn't find any. The woman started running away and I let her, for the slow motion was still on. She started calling for police, but that's not important now.
I looked around, like I should have done first. I see nothing. Maybe this slow motion is making me paranoid, but it has never failed me before, so I gotta run.
I ran a few blocks to make sure it wasn't just some danger in general, but was aimed specifically at me. I went in buildings and came out of them. I ran through a couple of underground tunnels too for good measure. "The whole city is probably screwed." I said to myself.
I ran to a nearby empty bomb shelter I had found earlier. I had started to be a "doomsday prepper" so I had food and water among other things.
I started feeling weak on my legs and fell down.
Shit.
I took my phone and started dialing numbers.
I couldn't recognize the squiggleys on the phone.
"What's happening to me" I said to myself.
I found a note on my pocket where a friend had written his number before. I pattern matched the squiggles on the paper to the squiggles on the phone and soon I heard "Hey, what's up?".
"Help, I think I'm having a brain aneyrysm or something!" I said. Or tried to say, apparently my friend heard some weird mumbling. Brain is a funny thing.
Nobody will come here in years, probably. Nobody knows where I am. I hadn't told anyone for the fear of being ridiculed. I'll just shut my eyes now. I feel strange connection to everything as my sense of self fades away...
| 2015-01-17T09:05:03
| 2015-01-17T07:59:02
| 770
| 48
|
[WP] "humans don't appear to be to advanced, they haven't even discovered intergalactic travel, should be a simple invasion." Said the alien cleaning his musket.
Edit: Seems someone has already written a piece perfect for this. Check it out, would highly recommend.
https://eyeofmidas.com/scifi/Turtledove_RoadNotTaken.pdf
Edit 2: Thank you all so much for your stories! im going to read all of them :)
|
Edit: Thank you all for the kind words. There's now a part 2 in the comments from the perspective of humanity.
The planet designated as YS-974 3rd was chosen to give the council a foothold in this section of the galaxy. No single world government, no intergalactic capacity, with high pollution in the calculated known habitable portions. The short lifespans of barely 10 Intergalactic Cycles for their oldest specimens would make the inhabitants good fodder for experiments and dangerous work.
The initial invasion was standard procedure of identify the third largest continent then attack a centralized settlement. The spotty intelligence was based on long distance preliminary scans of the geography and climate. Using more valuable resources was unnecessary for such an underdeveloped world. This spotty intelligence returned information on the largest and most powerful countries indicating that the continent referred to as "North America" would be the best for initial invasion since it was dominated by only 3 primary countries. The target was decided, a frontier settlement called "Bismark" in a terribly inhospitable part of the continent. Based on telemetry, it was going to be tolerable at 292 degrees, so forces would have to move quickly to secure a foothold closer to the planet's equator before winter set in.
10,000 allied forces from 150 ships landed just outside the settlement and quickly attacked. The first volley killed hundreds of what are now called "earthlings". They were shocked and disabled with fear as we reloaded our weapons for the second volley. This settlement would fall by the end of this planet's day and serve as a central staging point for dominating the third largest continent on this mostly inhospitable planet.
That's when things stopped going to plan. As the smoke from the first volley subsided, the generals realized this was not a temporary summer settlement, but an established and thriving city. Individual earthlings began firing small arms that were un-explainable on Alliance lines. Uniformed and armed forces began to respond in minutes with larger more deadly weapons and allied losses began to mount. Within hours, even greater forces from the air unleashed ever more terrifying weaponry, and a full retreat was sounded. A full retreat had never once been sounded for Alliance warriors, and the confusion over what to do lead to even greater losses. Of the initial force, only 2,500 survived and escaped on 80 of the initial ships. The worst losses the alliance had ever experienced prior was 8% for an entire war.
Allied command decided swift action was necessary. A force of 1 million was being prepared, in the unprecedented time span of a single intergalactic cycle. The "earthlings" were considered a grave threat and were to be eradicated. However, allied command did not expect the earthlings to strike back before the force was completely assembled. What was considered to be an unprecedented build up of military might was over-shadowed because the earthlings had unified their governments, mastered the Faster Than Light drives on the abandoned ships, armed them with more unheard of weapons, and began attacking the outer colonies. One colony after another fell to the earthlings, and the galaxy learned a new phrase -
Warpath.
Ten Cycles Later
The alliance has learned that YS-974 3rd, now called "Earth", did not follow the standard model of unified government, civilization, FTL, weaponry. The earthlings had started with weaponry, then established civilization, and had never established a unified government until the alliance failed spectacularly at invasion. Then they gained FTL from the failed invasion. In ten cycles the earthlings had attacked and destroyed 15% of allied military installations, taking territory that the alliance spent 100 cycles conquering. Then the earthlings just stopped advancing. Alliance spies that had spent the last 10 cycles training, half the time of their normal training due to the urgency of the situation, were sent to the conquered worlds to gather information, and the information that returned was confusing at best.
The earthlings were only attacking military bases and as such civilian casualties were at a minimum. This un-fathomed tactic allowed them to move from installation to installation with such speed defense protocols could not be carried out. They built fleets of impossibly large, interstellar ships that were equipped with massive weapons of their own, something that left the earthlings with a terrifying advantage in space as more than one assault group had been annihilated before even reaching the planet they were to attack. They had terrifying shock troops, called Marine Mobile Infantry, that would lead many initial attacks causing destruction and devastation in their path, and after that a larger army would occupy the area and do something none of the allied warriors would ever think of. They would build places called hospitals to treat the wounds of everyone, alliance and earthling, and these places could return soldiers to combat from mortal wounds after no more than a few days of healing. Alliance Warriors that had been treated and sent home with others said this was called "humanitarian efforts". The spies also learned of other agencies, like the KGB and CIA, that would gather information for the earthlings through a variety of unspeakable means. It is now suspected that they have infiltrated the entire allied government, but none can prove those theories as the earthlings have been impossible to detect and seem capable of breaking into every advanced system that has been developed.
Adding insult to injury, Alliance cut warrior training back to a single intergalactic cycle, and these warriors stood no chance against forces that intelligence revealed were in the military for less than half a cycle. That same intelligence showed that a long career, entitling and earthling to full "retirement", was only 2 cycles, 4 at most for their longest serving military officers. The earthlings could, and already did, field an entire new military in the same amount of time it took the Alliance to finish what was now called basic training. This is clearly a species bred for war and destruction the likes of which the galaxy could not survive against. Even in these ten cycles, where the alliance has reverse engineered some captured weapons, the earthlings have advanced their weapons further, making their own equipment obsolete. There are still rumors that they have not even used their most devastating weapons. Surrender was being considered, but that would take at least 5 cycles to be ratified by the whole alliance.
One Cycle Later
The alliance soon discovered that the earthlings could survive anywhere on their planet, from the hottest desserts at 327 degrees to the coldest pole at 183 degrees. They built and thrived everywhere. Many of their colony installations were built in such extreme environments that it prevented retaliation attacks since Alliance troops could not endure the extreme heat and cold. It was clear they knew how to press every advantage they held, and they would field experimental equipment with no regard to their own safety. A truly reckless and dangerous species willing to destroy itself for victory.
The entire Alliance had begun to crumble as the member planets' economies were unable to support the continued war effort. The earthlings once again went on the warpath and had destroyed another 20% of the Alliance military. Desertion, a new word and unheard of before in the Alliance, continued to empty the ranks. Recruits began to flee from conscription and installations would surrender without instruction as the earthlings began to announce their next targets. Installations fell without firing any weapons. Fear and terror were the earthling's primary weapon now.
The next insult was that the earthlings began to educate all of the planets they seized. Former alliance civilians would volunteer for the earthling military. Alliance spies said this was due to earthling propaganda about freedom from tyranny and having a say in their own destiny. More and more species are believing the earthlings to be liberators.
Soon the Alliance won't have a choice or a debate in surrendering. The Alliance will simply collapse in the dawn of the earthlings dominating this galaxy.
Edits: Fixed wording and punctuation throughout.
|
A plaque over IG HQ was mounted over the entry way to the briefing room. It was black stone with brass plate text, with standard issue oil lamps lighting the plaque. "Every intelligent species in the universe shares a common ancestor." Mirnen mulls this over before the squad briefing. Wondering whether it was actually true, that there were no independent species out there. A lot of modern day natural philosophers thought this unlikely, but none had been found yet. The forekirk, who had taught every species the secret to hyperdrive, medicine, and agriculture, were the common ancestor of all the known species. We knew this because of their beaks and long, flat fur. Mirnen wondered if there was a species in the world that didn't share in the gifts of foremen.
"The humans don't appear to be advanced, they haven't even discovered intergalactic travel, it should be a simple invasion" said Mirnen, polishing a brand new musket and looking toward the IGPS. The musket was his duty arm, but it was also a prop for the briefing. The green recruits were nervous. The peacekeeping squad had never had much success against Talkak invasions.
"We will be there to give the humans aid, and, hopefully, guide them to victory and lasting participation in the galactic community. Talkak forces seem to be focusing their efforts on a few urban centers, and so we will try to beat them to those places" After this, Mirnen continues the briefing, describing tactics and strategy in the defense to come.
After the briefing, a young Sek troop from the squad, Larkak, if Mirnen could remember his name, came up to Mirnen. "Um... Sir... what if the humans ... um... don't want our help." asked Larkek.
"You're worried about another Morgan massacre? Well, we plan on arriving before the Talkak, to learn about the humans and hash things out. If you're worried about attack on contact, we plan on hovering out of attack range until we establish peaceful contact. They won't too different from us, we do all share a common ancestor after all." Replied Mirnen.
"But... but... Kirkfolk used to war with each other all the time, and the Talkak still war all the time. I mean, thats *really* why IG founded the peace force, right? to keep the Talkak expeditions under control?" asked Larkak.
Mirnen mulled over his exact words for a moment. "Thats is a popular opinion, and one not without some merit. But their stated mission is to protect all Kirkfolk in common peace."
The IGSS Starleap traveled at several times light speed. Mirnen saw the small blue orb that orbited Sol. It was a strange planet to harbor life. Most Kirkfolk can't deal with that much nitrogen in the atmosphere. Mirnen shuddered at the thought. A few years ago Mirnen had been exposed to earth-high levels of atmospheric nitrogen. It pooled in his blood, and caused so much pain. Supposedly after a few days it builds up to lethal levels. The peace force had been issued thin masks that could lower the nitrogen levels they inhaled down to tolerable levels, so long as the cartridge in the mask was swapped out every few hours. Mirnen hated the things, but, he supposed, it was better than Aldrin's pooling syndrome.
The ship's captain, Aldrik, approached Mirnen and asked "whats the plan? Should I land it over one of those bright spots?"
Mirnen snorted. "Of course you didn't read the course directions. You never do. I aught to send a formal reprimand sometime. We hover near the edge of one of the bright spots, flickering our lights. We don't know what this planet was seeded with, or how it has evolved in the seven hundred years since, we need to avoid surprising or scaring them. They know we exist, but we don't know what they've come to think of outsiders."
The craft closed in over its objective, its ceramic plated hull reflecting the water of the bay below. Mirnen and the soldiers looked out the bay window for the firm time since entered the atmosphere. He was too late. There was a Talkak expedition ship, with its black-steel hull, on the ground near a building on shore. Mirnen panicked a little when he noticed the ship was... damaged? Had the humans repelled the Talkak attack on their own? Maybe they had decoded the more advanced knowledge the Forekirk had left them? But not hyperdrive? Its sometimes difficult, because Forekirk tablets were in code, only detailed how to build a hyperdrive, and not the principals that make it work. Hell, even the Sek scientists hadn't entirely figured out how hyperdrive worked, although there were a few accepted theories.
Then Mirnen looked closer. The Talkak ship wasn't damaged. It had been rendered completely destroyed. There were bits scattered all over the ground, and there weren't any Talkak to be seen. There also weren't any human war machine parts around. Mirnen became pretty sure that the humans knew more than IG thought they did.
It was at that moment that a human... something... flew over to the Starleap. It was cabin, with two rotors. A horizontal rotor spinning above the cabin, and a vertical one behind. It seemed to have an armament hanging on flanges to it side. It hovered in front of the Starleap. Aldrik asked for orders.
Mirnen barked "Ready the sulfur rockets. But don't fire. We don't want a war, but if the humans can drop a Talkak ship without major losses, then we need to be ready." Then Mirnen sighed when the human craft turned and flew toward a clearing on the ground.
Then, the craft came back. Then it returned to the clearing. Then it came back. And then returned to the clearing. Eventually, Mirnen saw little... somethings.... robots? Vehicles? Drawing a Starleap shaped outline in the clearing. Then Mirnen understood.
He turned to Aldrik and said "Land on the outline best you can, I think they want to talk." And Aldrik did.
-------
So, what does everyone think so far? This is my fourth entry to r/writingprompts so feedback is nice. I'll write more if people seem to want it, but I'm not sure where I'm taking it exactly.
| 2017-08-08T08:06:30
| 2017-08-08T08:00:31
| 747
| 142
|
[WP] When someone turns 18, they may use one adjective on themselves boost that part 10 fold. Strong, fast, smart, no one expects your adjective.
|
When people choose their Word, they choose one that will help them in their ordinary lives:
Strong.
Fast.
Smart.
All very common, but all very useful.
Some people are more subtle with their choice, choosing words like:
Persuasive.
Athletic.
Powerful.
Wealthy.
But others are still more creative:
Judicious.
Equanimous.
Salubrious.
Effulgent.
But sometimes things don't go the way you're expecting. You say "attractive" and all of a sudden random objects come flying towards you. It doesn't always use the definition you expect. That's why sometimes people have the same Word but different powers, and why people stick with the simple ones. Whatever gives people their gifts seems to have a harder time mistranslating those.
I'd chosen the word I'd use a long time ago. No one is on the record with this word. It could be a big risk, but I was fairly confident that my Word would work. It meant I could do all kinds of things, and a jack-of-all-trades type of thing has always appealed to me.
I step into the white room. A sliding door hisses shut behind me
A soothing voice tells me to only speak once I'm sure I have my word.
I take a deep breath. My fingers are tingling. I can feel every beat of my heart throughout my entire body.
"Universal."
Blinding light.
Pure ecstasy.
Unfettered agony.
I feel...
Everything.
Everywhere.
Everywhen.
I guess I should have seen that coming?
|
"Crombulated?"
"Crombulated."
"What in the world does that even mean?"
"Wouldn't you like to know, weather boy."
"Don't quote the old memes to me! I was there when they were posted!"
"Anywho, I chose 'crombulated' and the word master accepted it so now I have the nigh infinite power allotted by such a masterful adjective."
"But what does it mean!?"
"Wouldn't you-"
"Not the meme again! Just tell me already!"
"I don't have to tell you anything but if you simply must know it means whatever I choose it to mean. Since I invented it I get to define it. I'm just saving the defining of the word for when I need it."
"Dude, you can't do that."
"And who says I can't? Who died and made you the king of the English language?"
"You're not Humpty Dumpty, dude! You can't just assign definitions as befits your whimsies!"
"You know what? I define 'crombulated' as extremely persuasive to the point of being nigh-supernatural. Do you agree?"
"Of course. Sounds reasonable to me."
"Glad you could see it from my point of view."
| 2022-01-01T21:51:39
| 2022-01-01T20:32:05
| 1,569
| 488
|
[WP] You get a deep cut for the first time in your life, instead of bone or muscle, you see wires.
|
“MOM!” I burst through the door shouting, holding my arm. Blood dripped down the side of the cut, just like every other cut that I’ve ever gotten. But this one was deep, and my flesh split at least an inch open. Below the layer of skin was rubber that the blood seemed to just slide right off of. And underneath that, wires wrapped in green and purple, along with a mass of metal tubes and other shining parts. Some of them had been cut too, and every time I tried to move my pinky it would cause a shower of sparks to erupt from the severed end. “MOM!!!” I shouted again.
She came dashing out of the kitchen with a dishcloth in hand, which she dropped as soon as she saw the gash across my forearm. “Honey, what happened??” Her fingers prodded the skin, and she ushered me into the bathroom.
“I was biking, and I… there was a patch of gravel… and…” the words came out in between sobs. I couldn’t even finish explaining. “Mom, what *is this*? Why are there wires in my arm?”
“I don’t know, Honey.” She was mopping up the blood with toilet paper, leaving a red-stained pile of them on the counter. Every other time I’d gotten a cut, she’d put it under the sink to wash, but not this time. “Let’s just clean this up and get you to the doctor, OK?”
“Mom, why are there wires?” I continued to sob. “What am I?”
Mom bit her lip and finished bandaging up my arm. She didn’t answer the question. As soon as the bleeding was staunched, she brought me to the car. “Keep holding it there, OK?” she told me. The bandage was wrapped around the cut, but there was a faint burning smell coming from it. “I’m just going to call Dad on the way, all right?”
We pulled out into the driveway while Mom held the phone. I could faintly hear the ringing on the other end. “Tom, she cut her arm today riding her bike. *Deep*.”
“How deep?” Dad asked.
Mom glanced at me in the rearview mirror to make sure I was still holding the bandage in place. A wisp of smoke curled up from one corner of it. “Pretty deep,” she answered him in a quiet tone.
“I’ll meet you at the doctor’s,” he said.
-----------
We squealed to a stop in front of a squat brick building on the outskirts of town. Dad’s car was already parked in front, and he came rushing out of the door as soon as he saw Mom pull up.
“Is this the doctors?” I asked. The last time we went to the doctor it had been a nice little village-type office setting, with a lawn out front and lots of toys in the waiting room. “It doesn’t look like the last one.”
“This is a different doctors,” Mom said, unbuckling my seat belt for me. “It’s for big girls, OK? I need you to be brave.” I nodded, and Dad picked up out of the seat and carried me inside.
There were men waiting in the lobby. They didn’t have a white coat like the last doctor that I’d visited, and they didn’t have a stethoscope around their necks like the last one; he’d let me listen to my own heartbeat.
They sat me down on a table. There were no animals painted on the walls, nor jars full of cotton swabs and tongue depressors. One of the men opened a big metal container and brought out a set of pliers and a flashlight. They took the bandage off of my arm, and as Mom carried it to the trash I saw black streaks across it, along with a few more spots of blood.
“Definitely severed a good deal of the haptic controls,” he muttered. I looked at Mom, then at Dad, for some hint of what that meant. They seemed worried.
“Can you fix it?” Mom asked, clutching at Dad’s arm.
“Yeah, of course,” the man grunted. Then he looked back at me. “You’re gonna have to go to sleep for a little bit, Kiddo. It’ll all be better when you wake up, OK? We just need to do some quick repairs.” Then he nodded to one of his companions. “Open the access hatch, Mike.”
The man he’d talked to pressed something on my neck, and my whole body went stiff. My neck felt… funny. Like something should be there, but it wasn’t. And everything tingled. "Mom's what's going on?" I tried to ask. My jaw opened and closed, but sound didn't come out. Mom made a pained grimace and had to bury her face in Dad's shoulder.
“Will she remember it?” Dad asked.
“We’ll probably have to do a wipe,” the man answered. “When was your last backup?”
Mom and Dad looked at each other, puzzled. “Had to be at least a month ago,” Dad said. “I’ve been meaning to, I just kept forgetting.”
Something whirred and clicked on my back as Mike continued to do something behind me. I couldn’t turn my head or see what was happening. “Shutting off sensory now," he said.
Everything went black. I tried to touch my eyes, but my arms weren’t working anymore. I heard Mom’s sad voice: “So she won’t even remember her last birthday?” Then the sound was gone too.
----
If you enjoyed the story, you should check out /r/Luna_Lovewell!
|
The sun was directly above us, pouring heat down over the building. Standing on this roof, I could feel the heat radiating from below me as well. The hot tar created an acrid stench, and it burned my nose.
I pulled more hose up onto the roof. The hose sent compressed air to my nail gun, which I was told would be the easiest way to lay shingle. However, the tar wouldn't set due to the heat, and it kept letting my hose slide back over the gutter.
"This shit sucks," said Neil. I looked over at him, grinning. He was an old man, easily in his early 50s, and always cranky. I nodded. Still in my late 20s, I hesitated to complain too much.
I leaned down, pulling a hammer out of my toolbelt. I started dropping nails by hand, Neil leaning into the angle of the roof just watching me.
"What are you doing?" he asked, incredulous. "Let's call Jake and tell him it's too hot. No need to do this by hand, this shit is hard enough as it is." I sighed, and sat back on my heels.
"Yeah," I said, gazing at the heat waves rising above me. "It's too hot." I tossed my hammer onto the flats of shingles. I looped my finger through the safety harness and loosened the rope.
"Let's go get a beer," Neil said, doing the same. He walked across to the ladder, turned, and began to descend.
"Sounds great," I said. "Let's do it." I walked over to ladder, unclipped my safety rope, and turned to climb down.
The ladder was an old metal, single-split antique that Neil had owned since he was my age. It was rickety and threatened to throw us just for the fun of it. I had asked Neil to let me buy him a new one, but he always protested. It was his "lucky" ladder. Sure.
On the third rung down, I felt it give. For a second, I was weightless, staring at the heat rising from the rooftop, floating in midair. Then gravity pulled me, hard. I threw my hand up to catch myself, feeling skin tear away as I slid down. After three stories, I landed hard on my back. I could hear Neil, who had also fallen, cursing and kicking the ladder, holding his arm. He made his way over to me.
"Kid!" he said, his voice gruff with pain and anger. "You alright, kid? Jesus tell me you're alright."
I nodded, rolling. I didn't really feel any pain. I got to my hands and knees just as Neil arrived. He knelt beside me, and I sat back on my heels again.
"What a crazy fu-- what the hell, kid, look at your hand!" Neil was pointing with his good arm.
I looked down. At first, I couldn't tell what I was looking at. The cut ran deep. I was surprised I couldn't see through it at first. I have never been great around blood, and my brain prepared me to faint. I wobbled, steadying myself.
I looked closer. There was no blood. There was nothing at all, actually. No sinew, no meat, no tendons, no bone.
Wires.
Small electric arcs were jumping between the split in the wires. They were slowly burning the skin near the opening of the cut, and it smelled lightly of burning tires. I sat and stared. Neil, usually one for words, was silent. Finally, he spoke.
"What are you?" It was a strange question, since I had been working with Neil for three summers. I spent time on his boat, he taught me to fish. Seeing him regard me like he would a criminal was surreal.
I had no answers though. I kept staring at the arcs, which were dying out now. Strangely, I could feel my wrist seize. My fingers wouldn't react, and I couldn't close my fist. Fear started to set in.
Suddenly, I heard tires screeching. I looked up. A black SUV had rounded the corner on two wheels, coming down hard on the other two. It swerved, nearly clipping a mailbox, and skidded to a stop in the yard. Neil had jumped back, landing in the grass. I just sat and stared.
Three men jumped out and ran at me. I stood, without really meaning to. One of the men stopped and pulled a device out of his jacket pocket, punching into it like a phone. The other two kept coming.
Without thinking, I stepped forward toward the closest man and swung with my good arm. I could feel extraordinary power, more than I had ever felt before, as my fist connected. I could feel his cheekbone shatter as his face snapped back. He hit the ground.
The second man reached into his jacket and pulled out a gun. I threw my hand out and grabbed the barrel. He fired, and I could feel the bullet enter my chest. I squeezed. The barrel bent.
I twisted my arm, removing the gun, and threw it behind me. The man turned to run, and I launched at him, wrapping my arms around him as we hit the ground. We scuffled a bit, and he threw his legs over me, subduing my bad arm. I rotated my torso, throwing my good hand around his neck. Just as I squeezed, I could see the third man appear behind him, device in hand.
The world grew dark. And then, nothing.
| 2016-09-12T08:57:02
| 2016-09-12T08:28:57
| 1,669
| 150
|
[WP] The three little pigs are dead, as are the next 236. Straw, sticks, bricks, reinforced concrete, titatium it didn't matter. They all fell to the onslaught of the wolf. Little piggy 240 is bracing for the inevitable attack, inside his house of depleted uranium.
|
239 pigs in 239 days. Dirt, wood, concrete, hell even titanium. It didn't matter. Everyone single one fell, consumed by the Wrath of the Wolf. The pig sat in his bunker. His project produced enough byproduct to build an entire bunker out of. Not that it matters. The Wolf will get through. Even now the rending of metal can be heard in the distance. The point of the wasn't to stop his advance, it was to delay him. 239 days worth of constant work, all leading up to this moment. Finally, a weapon unlike any other, is ready. Right on cue, the Wolf busted through the final door with an almost feral ferocity.
"Huh, I thought the doors would hold longer." The pig said calmly, despite the sweat dripping off his forehead
"If you thought that merely surviving the day would cause me to move on, then I am afraid you failed."
"No, I never planned on survival. I know my time has come. But maybe the sacrifices of the 239 pigs before me, as well as my own, will stop you." The pig stepped aside from the work bench, the Wolf mild amused amusement turning to malicious laughter
"Hah! You fool, you think an explosion will stop me? Others have tried, and failed."
"No, an explosion won't kill you. But look around you, tell me what this house is made of."
"It doesn't matter what this house is made out of, you failed. Do you have any last words before joining your brothers?"
"This bunker was made out of depleted uranium. I used the radioactive energy from the uranium used to build to create a nuclear device."
Suddenly the Wolf realized, his amusement replaced with fear.
"The explosion won't kill you, that was never the point, but the radiation will. Your body will deteriorate, the dna itself being mutated beyond repair. Even if you survive you will be severely crippled, hopefully enough to make sure you never break down another house. I believe our conversation has come to an end. See you on the other side."
Far in the distance, a pig sat in a mansion of marble, enjoying a glass of wine as the sun sets. Tomorrow will be his day. Suddenly, in the distance, a second sun appears, and within seconds the glass shatters and a deafening boom is heard. He sighed, he was hoping the windows would stay intact until the Wolf arrived. He took the explosion as a sign to go to bed, the Wolf would be there soon. The next day passed peacefully. Then it was 2 days. The Wolf never arrived to the marble mansion, or any other pig after the second sun arrived that one night, though every pig lived with fear until they grew old and died of age.
Their sons lived with that fear early, but died peacefully.
The grandsons never even knew of The Big Bad Wolf, nor the pig who stopped him.
|
You need to change plans.
"What? Who goes there?"
You, Piggy, I'm talking to you. It's me, the narrator.
"What is this voice in my head? What's going on?"
Piggy, I-
"Get out of my head, this is madness!"
Piggy-
"Out! Get out!"
But-
"Leave!"
PIGGY, LISTEN!
Piggy sat on his hind legs in submission.
"I AM NOT SUBMITTING!"
Shut-up.
Anyway, Piggy waited patiently as the narrator prepared to explain why he would soon die.
"DIE? WHAT? No. I'll get out of this. I can escape the wolf."
Little did Piggy know, he could not escape the wolf. Two-hundred-thirty-nine of his kind had died at the hands of this beast. This would be-
"Two-hundred...thirty-nine...what? How? Is my family okay?"
They are dead.
Piggy sat in silence, stunned by the narrator's words. Piggy didn't know that the narrator was just joking.
"What! Don't joke about that. That's horrible."
Piggy had no sense of humor, but the narrator ignored it. The narrator wanted to explain to Piggy how to survive this wretched wolf.
"Please do."
Sure. In Piggy's hand, a .40 cal appeared.
"Woah, what the hell. How did this get here? Did you just speak that into existence? How am I even holding thi-"
And a Tutu dress appeared around his waist.
"Hey! Not funny!"
Piggy, again, failed to recognize objectively good comedy.
"It's not funny."
It was.
"It's not."
Piggy was unable to speak after a random roll of tape dropped from the ceiling and closed his mouth shut.
Ah, that's much better.
The uranium around Piggy had turned to mush. The wolf had been stalking Piggy, waiting to pounce, but he waited. And waited. And waited.
Suddenly, the wolf sprung to attack. He jumped from the rubble, scaring Piggy senseless.
Piggy muffled something into the tape that was probably very pathetic. He shot the .40 cal at the wolf, but there weren't any bullets.
Piggy continued to shout into the tape. It was getting rather annoying. The tape magically ripped off of him.
"FINALLY! WHAT THE HELL! JUST PUT BULLETS IN THIS THING! THIS WOLF IS ABOUT TO EAT ME!"
Stop shouting.
"Please."
Because Piggy said the magic word and submitted once again to the great and all mighty narrator-
"I am NOT submitting!"
Would you like me to take your bullets away?
"I am submitting."
Piggy smartened up. He pointed the now loaded gun at the big, bad wolf and shot it dead.
"Wow...thank you narrator. You actually saved me."
No problem, Piggy. Let's have some more fun. What do you want to do next?
"Wait, you're not leaving? What-"
Suddenly, one-hundred wolves appeared around Piggy.
"NOOOOOO-"
\[Thank you for reading my story! If you enjoyed it please give me a follow. I plan on writing more stories on Reddit and I love hearing feedback.\]
| 2021-01-29T16:24:08
| 2021-01-29T09:22:08
| 577
| 145
|
[WP] You look into the mirror but you see no one. You panic but then you see yourself still sitting down, reading. Your reflection then notices you. "Ah dammit!" She hastily goes to match you but she knows it's futile. "Uhm. Just forget about that okay?" she asks.
|
..Huh?
I blink. Still no one. I blink again. Okay, this is getting stupid. I pinch my nose shut and try to breathe through it. Doesn't work. Okay, not a dream either. I consider every possibiltiy but can come to no logical conclusion as to why the man in the mirror is-
Wait. Is that me? In the mirror? Sitting on my mirrored bed? Reading a mirrored book? And- oh crap, has he just noticed me? Or, err, have I just noticed me?
They quickly ditch the book and run up to the mirror and to my exact pose. I blink again. All is normal. No way. I haven't gone insane, right? Bullshit. I wave my hand, but mirror-me replicates it perfectly. I pretend to walk away only to turn around unexpectedly, but mirror-me does the same.
Eventually, they cave: "Uh, okay.. sorry, just forget about that, okay?"
I swear I am going insane.
"What the fuck?"
No response. I consider just walking away, getting some sleep and hopefully forgetting everything once I wake up. But at the same time..
"Nuh uh. Tell me whats going on here." I say to the mirror, and the mirror mouths back to me.
I stand there for a few minutes, awaiting a response. They know they're not getting out of this one, so they respond.
"Okay, fine. What do you want?" Suddenly their posture drops, they no longer follow my movement and they stand there very casually. The charade is over.
"Who are you?"
"The man in the mirror, duh."
"Are you the man in every mirror?"
"No, just this one."
"What if the mirror broke? Like, into two pieces? Would you be the man in both?"
"What if I seperated your brain hemispheres and put each half into a different skull? Who would be you?"
"Uhh.."
"Exactly."
Well, this was unsettling. My mirror self just made my skin crawl. But I want to know more. This is huge. Or a really vivid trip. Anyways.
"So does every mirror have one mirror person or does every human have one mirror counterpart?"
"Look man, I really would like to get back to work. It's already bad enough that we're having this conversation."
"Okay, one last thing."
"Ugh."
"Are you me?"
"No, but I can look like you. I can look like anyone."
"Is this like your job? Are you a shapeshifter?"
"You said only one thing."
"Please."
"Yeah, it is basically my job. There are a lot of things in your world that seem like science but are actually controlled manually by us."
"Who is 'us'?"
"Im serious, if I keep talking to you then they might-"
Suddenly, an unimaginable shape appears behind them. I turn around, but its only in the mirror. The shape, I'm not sure what color it is or how to describe it, morphs into a muscular man in a black suit upon noticing my presence. To take the load of its impossible appearence off of my poor brain, I assume.
They grab mirror-me by the back collar if their shirt -my shirt, technically- and lift them up.
"You fucking idiot." They say to mirror-me, looking quite angry.
Not sure what to do, I just stand there and kinda watch this whole thing unfold. I hope im not in any trouble. I *really* hope I'm not in any trouble.
They turn to me and say "Forget everything you saw here, kid. No one will believe you anyway."
They carry mirror-me away, out through my mirror door and presumably into- okay, I have no idea what their mirror logistics are, maybe I should have inquired about that first.
Before I can think too long about it, another mirror-me, presumably a different one, steps in from just out of view and takes my same position and same confused face. That was a few years ago, and I haven't been able to replicate it since.
Maybe I should lay off the Hallucinogenics.
\---------------
Hope you enjoyed it. If you did: how
|
[Inspired by a game called "The Splitting", discussing mirror worlds.]
Samantha couldn't believe her eyes. She blinked once, twice, yet her reflection didn't move. Instead, she pulled a piece of paper from inside her jacket, and Samantha found herself searching the jacket for the paper. Between her fingers was now a small note. "How on earth–"
"Read it by reflecting it in the mirror. It is illegible in your world," her reflection said.
On the note it said, _Hi, Samantha. I am ahtnamaS, but you can call me Aht. Our worlds are in danger. Some of us reflections have disappeared, and their human owners come here to look out for them. I'm fortunate to be isolated here, but I don't know how much time I have._
"Aht," Samantha said, as she reached out to touch the hand of her mirror self, "how can I help?"
"It is a great risk for you to come through this threshold. But... if you really want to help, you have to work with me," Aht answered.
"Aht, there's no doubt about that! Just... do others know about this?"
"Not all of them... I have heard of one llechtiM disappear. His human owner is in the mirror world, searching for his reflection. Another had disappeared before him– leinaD. No one knows what causes this to happen. But we must stop this!"
Samantha hesitates for a moment, as she looks at the room that ahtnamaS was in. A fire was burning, books with mirrored titles were sitting in a lonely bookcase, and there was no light apart from the fire. The flames were swaying left and right, as a gentle breeze washed over them. Aht was wearing her clothes – a denim jacket, a white blouse with an imprinted logo on it, a belt around her waist as it held the slightly ripped blue jeans – and she looked just as thoughtful as Samantha had felt.
"I'm coming. One question, though."
"Hm?"
"Can I always return to the real world?"
Aht nodded. "Provided you find a mirror, yes. Be careful not to get lost in the perception."
"Meaning?"
"Meaning your sanity may go haywire if you cross too fast between the realms. You won't be able to know what's real and what's not."
"Understood."
Samantha closed her eyes, and pressed her hand against the thin sheet of glass while Aht did the same. In a flash, the two were standing side by side, and Aht smiled softly at Samantha as she dusted herself off. The fire felt colder than she thought it looked like, and a sudden chill went down her spine.
Aht frowned. "Ah, I should've remembered that. You see, it's usually colder in the mirror world, but this time it hits harder. Whatever causes this, it can't be good."
"And f-from where do I g-get clothes," Samantha stammered, as she began rubbing her hands over her arms.
"I'll bring you some of my clothes," Aht said, without missing a beat.
"Oh. Are you sure they'll be my size?"
Laughter roared in the air. "I think they will be, my dear. You'll need to be well-dressed for the apocalypse."
After a few minutes, Samantha was dressed in the mirror-version of her winter clothes – a stuffy jacket, sturdier pants and winter boots – something Aht was wearing as well. Both women wandered outside, or whatever outside consisted of in the mirror world, noticing that there wasn't another soul on the road ahead. Stray pieces of paper were carried by the wind, mirrored words on them as they flew in the air.
They walked for a mile, when Aht suggested they should separate to extend the search for llechtiM and leinaD. Samantha was adamant that they shouldn't separate, if Aht's warnings were true, but Aht was convinced nothing could happen to her if they did one split.
Little did Samantha knew, she was about to be right.
| 2021-06-02T13:13:22
| 2021-06-02T10:44:01
| 19
| 10
|
[WP] You're live-streaming your life, from the perspective of smart-glasses. The chat keeps pointing out things that you don't see.
|
I was first noticed on Facebook, grew in popularity from Vine, and made a living from Youtube. Every step I took, every new medium, felt like a bigger step into fame. I was living comfortably in my apartment in New York City by posting blog videos on Youtube, people seemed to love learning the most basic things about my life.
But then the next big thing in media came out, thanks to the popularity of one Youtuber, Jacob Thorton, who wore the Google Glass to live stream a week of his life. It was huge, it was bigger than Twitch Plays Pokemon, more popular than reaction videos, this was the next step for internet entertainers like myself, and I had to get on it fast or I could be left in the dust like the thousands of MineCraft Let'sPlayers who started a year too late.
At first, the Google Glass Live Streamers were using it wrong, they'd use it to film events they went to like derbies concerts, but you could simply film it with a camera or phone and get better results. Some became popular through prank videos, using the added benifit of filming incognito, but I needed something different. I came up with the first channel to brag that I would live stream my life, my whole life. I never turned it off, brought extra batteries with me everywhere, and let people see every boring detail they wanted about my life.
It went well, I became a huge success, money and views were rolling in. I got to sit back and enjoy life all with the added benefit of thousands of people giving me input on everything going on. Most of my day consisted of going to do a task, let's say groceries, and watching the feed mention every mistake or success I made. "Hey, I love that bread!" "You should have bought campbell's, it's cheaper and tastes better." "You're racist if you don't buy Aunt Jemima's syrup." It was frustrating at first, but I was used to the slander the internet always had on hand, and learned to roll with it. I used those animals as a tool, they always seemed to spot things that I missed.
I was going about my daily routine, wake up, set the glasses down pointing away from the bathroom as I showered, and went out to buy breakfast at a nearby coffee shop. I get my coffee and muffin to start the day from my usual barista, a cute girl who's nametage said "Heather," when I noticed the chat all saying the same thing; "She's interested in you, ask her out!"
It seemed everyone in the chat was chanting this. I was on stage and couldn't back out, and figured what the hell, and went up to her and asked for her number. I didn't believe it really, I never noticed any hints or clues she was putting off before, but it seemed that everyone else did. We exchanged numbers and the chat went wild, I felt incredible.
That night we went on a date, and it was beyond romantic, despite the chat saying things like "nice tits" or "let me see her blow you." I tuned them out for the night while I fell for this charming girl who I figured would never notice me. The night ended perfectly, with us telling eachother how much fun we had, and a kiss goodbye. I went up to my room and performed the nightly duty of getting ready for bed, and setting my feed on the charger facing me, I couldn't let the public miss a thing.
This continued for months, during which I became widly popular, since I was one of the first letting people see my whole life. Not only did my popularity grow, but my relationship with Heather grew as well, we became very close, and within a few months time we decieded to move in together. Life was great, I was a popular success, with the added benefit of looking through life with a thousand eyes, I felt like I have finally found success, like I was the American Dream. I felt like I was what rich people wished they were, successful and loved by many, and truly loved by one.
A year passed, with Heather and I living together happily, she grew used to being on live stream fairly quick, and soon it bacame a comfortable lifestyle. The day came where I proposed to Heather, and the internet was ecstatic, they loved this kind of drama.
Then one night I went about my routine, brushed my teeth, striped to my boxers and crawled into bed with Heather. We haven't had sex for a while to I didn't bother to point the live feed away from the bed, it sat where it normally did, facing us. I slept through the night like a baby, but when I woke up I put on my Glass and started reading the feed. My heart dropped. Everyone in the chat was saying some variation of "she's cheating on you."
I didn't believe it, people of the internet are prone to lying, and some love to start pranks with others. There's no way she was cheating on me. One of the commenters left a link for me that was a recording of Heather the night before. In the recording she waited for me to sleep, then started texting someone. She was sat perfectly where you could read the name on the phone, John, with a heart emoji. Then she quietly dresses up, and she is wearing revealing clothes she hasn't worn in months. She then slips out of our apartment for a few hours, only to return with makeup smeared and frizzed hair.
I was shellshocked, in absolute denial. I went about my day normally, getting breakfast at a coffee shop, then walking around downtown, trying to keep content slightly interesting. Then another commenter posted a link, he said he was a roomate of the guy who fucked my fiance. I followed the link with a heavy heart, in the link was a picture taken from outside the room, with a profile shot of my fiance with a stranger's dick in her mouth.
I sat in the sidewalk, unable to move. The chat was flying in "I'm so sorry" "we'll get her for you." I shook my head and walked back to my apartment, feeling hollow. I walked up the stairs with memories of me and Heather. Every moment felt like I was truly alone with her. I open the door to see her at her laptop, tears on her cheeks.
After a moment of silence between us, "I'm sorry you found out this way," she sqeaked out. I stood there in silence, the chat filling my screen with suggestions of what to say. She slowly got up, and made her way to the door, "I'm going to stay with Jessica, but I'll be back for my things."
I stood there, quiet, and let her go. The chat kept filling with suggestions to leave her or to take her back. I couldn't react. I was the actor, center of one of the largest stages a man could be on, and I finally froze. I sat on my floor and thought about my life for what felt like an hour.
I ignored the chat and thought about what to do with my life. It was a ironic to me, that I had a thousand minds across the world, working for my benifit, and I still lost what felt like the only purpose I had in my life.
I found myself sitting on my bed, hours since I've last seen Heather, the image of her with another man still burned in my vision. I thought about what to do with my life and found myself at a blank, I felt like I had been blind my whole life, only reacting to what other people wanted, always there to please another. I found myself thinking of how to take control of my life, thinking I knew what would be best for me.
Then I found the first words out of my lips were, "Help me. What should I do?"
|
There was screaming and silence inside his head. It fought in a distant mind, some cacophony of distorted emotion, spent feelings and hopelessness. He was alone. He was aware of his audience.
"Brandon!"
He muted them. They had seen him and he hated them. It made it feel real, and it could not be real. He stared at the letter. The paper was so fragile. The words were stamped and soaked in from the days gone by. He wondered how he had lived those days, unaware of...
"I'm so sorry..."
Had he unmuted them? He looked at the screen. It was odd how easily it blended with everyday life. There were reams of support and condolences. Advice came as fast as it could.
*No,* he thought.
What advice did he need? He had come to this Godless country to document war. His home was safe, an existence he would return to. He loved her. He remembered her face.
*Sometimes you forget faces,* he thought.
And he could not see her then. She blurred in the black of his mind. There were soldiers about him. A man a hand on his shoulder.
"Brandon, man. I'm sorry, man. We've heard the news."
He ignored him. The tent was hot and airy. Outside yellow sand flashed transparent in the endless heat.
*Why can't I see her face?*
*Because she's dead,* it said.
Somewhere his mind had broken, accepting the reality the damned paper had brought.
*No... No...*
The people in the stream were going about in their silence. This was journalism of the future: a real time experience in the real place.
*Now they can experience your grief...*
Some part of himself hated him. Or was it trying to push things? He had no thoughts, and yet thoughts and pleas raged in his head.
*My wife.*
But he had no wife now. He had come to document war, but she had found violence. Random chance had taken her from him. He wondered why him.
"Brandon, man."
He knew the soldier. He knew all of them. He had been here for five months. He had seen Eric die two months ago. It had been the first time he saw a man die.
Now they were strangers. He hardly felt the touch. Everything was silent, or his mind was too loud.
"I need to go," he said.
He got up and the world spun. He felt embarrassed. These men around him had seen worse. They faced death. He felt naked and exposed and weak. He was crying and he hated himself for it.
He put on the volume in his headset. The earpiece buzzed with talk. Sadness worked the airwaves, that signal of the future blasting condolences.
*Why couldn't it have been one of them?* he thought. *All across the world. Why not them?*
"Brandon you have to be strong."
Some woman was telling him that. He stared at the small picture near his eye. Why could he see her face so clear and not his wife? He was shaking.
He walked out the tent and the heat was staggering and constant. The sun shimmered in waves, each wave a stark silent burst of new heat. The smell of sweat lingered in the no man's land.
"Brandon you can't go out!" they were screaming.
Those were the soldiers.
*Why can't I? I have no wife to stop me.*
And he laughed a sad laugh. His voice cracked from grief. Torment sweltered around him. She was fading. She was gone.
"What are you doing, man?"
The digital people were screaming in his head. He wondered if he would go deaf. He hoped he would.
*Then you will feel lonely.*
He walked out into the hard sand. White sun blinded the sky and his head hurt. Wire fence glinted in a dark border. Beyond was fighting. Hidden men with different ideals were eager to kill.
*They're everywhere. They're home too.*
"Brandon stop! Stop! I lost my wife too!"
It was an old man. He recognized his face. Older folk usually paid for the news. He was not surprised. He looked at the man.
"Yeah?" he said. "Stop what?"
The man's feed scrambled, but his words came clear.
"You're not seeing what I am," he said. "You're not seeing what we all see?"
Brandon turned his head slowly side to side. He did that often to give a good view to his viewers.
"What do you all see?" he asked.
He was angry. The soldiers were coming for him and he walked fast near the fence.
"No!" the digital people screamed, but he kept walking.
"I see a life still," said the man. He was panicking. "I see beyond the pain. Brandon, right now you feel like your world's ended. And to tell you the truth, in some ways it has. But believe me, son, I know it will get better. There is life beyond this."
The thought of that hurt him. It insulted him. He loved her. He felt that love hotter than the desert's sun. He tried to hear her voice but those people were too loud.
*How can I live without her?*
He wanted to curse them. He hoped the old man suffered for his words. There was no life beyond her.
"I love her!" he shouted.
He felt the soldiers coming close. He began to run. Past the fence they would not follow. Past the fence was no man's land.
*I am no man.*
"No!" they screamed. "You're not seeing what we see!"
He did not want to see what that was.
There was a heaavy smell, a burning scent that carried near the wire. He looked ahead into nothing. The hair on his neck stood up and he trembled with adrenaline.
The signal was fading then. Even in that future there was no full coverage. In the silence he closed his eyes and pictured her. He pictured his wife and her image came.
"Yes!" he screamed.
There were gunshots in the distance. His ears rang and he was deaf.
"No!" he heard, then no more words.
He remembered the letter.
"We are sorry to inform you..."
It felt unreal. That letter was not real. He saw her face in his mind and she was smiling at him.
*"You'll die,"* she said.
And she smiled.
*That's okay,* he thought.
He hardly felt like he was living anyway.
-
*Hi there! If you liked this story, you might want to check out my subreddit r/PanMan. It has all my WP stories (all just as heartwarming as this one) as well as a few original stories and novel starts. Thank you for your support!*
| 2017-11-02T00:19:08
| 2017-11-02T00:15:07
| 173
| 12
|
[WP] The Little Red Riding Hood is one of many "Riding Hoods." Each one has a name in the format of (adjective) + (color) + Riding Hood. And they each have a unique skill based on their names.
|
***Identification Guide for Riding Hoods***
There are four known and well-documented types of Riding Hoods. However, at least a dozen more are believed to exist. Research is ongoing as we strive to learn more about these elusive creatures. If you have spotted unusual Riding Hood activity in your area, please contact the Society for the Studying and Protecting of Riding Hoods.
\--------------
**Little Red Riding Hood (LRRH)**
\- Estimated Population: 200-300
\- Height Range: 3'-0" to 4'-8"
\- Habitat: Mainly forests, although it is not uncommon to see one in villages or Grandmothers' houses.
\- Mobility: Typically moves about by skipping. Walking and running have been seen on occasion as well.
\- Identifying traits: Bright red hood, large smiles, and poor eyesight.
\- Nemeses: Big bad wolves, which are commonly mistaken by the LRRH as a Grandmother.- Special Skills: Pastry making.
Little Red Riding Hoods are the most well-known and abundant of all the Riding Hoods. Because of this, they are also one of the most easily identifiable. These creatures are quite friendly and will happily share their baked goods with passersby. They love making friends, so don't be afraid to approach one and ask for a sample of their delicious pastries!
*Did you know...* that the "Little" in their name is not due to their short stature? It is actually based on the small size of their hood!
\--------------
**Swift Blue Riding Hood (SBRH)**
\- Estimated Population: 100-250
\- Height Range: 3'-9" to 6'-3"
\- Habitat: Near medium to large bodies of fresh water.
\- Mobility: Sprinting. There is no slow movement for these creatures. They are either perfectly still so that they almost disappear into the surroundings, or they are moving so quickly that they're nearly impossible to spot.
\- Identifying traits: Deep blue hood, excessively fast movement.
\- Nemeses: Speed traps, for obvious reasons.- Special Skills: Speed great enough to travel across the water surface.
Swift Blue Riding Hoods are the second most common type. They can be identified by their deep blue hoods and incredible speeds. When stationary, SBRHs can sometimes be mistaken for the Quick Purple Riding Hoods. The two are, of course, closely related and display hoods of similar color. However, the SBRH lives only near fresh water, whereas the QPRH can live near either fresh or saltwater bodies.
*Did you know...* Swift Blues have the greatest height range of all the Riding Hoods? Even so, the height differences don't seem to impact their speed. Short and tall alike have been documented moving at their lightning-fast speeds!
\--------------
**Quick Purple Riding Hood (QPRH)**
\- Estimated Population: 90-120
\- Height Range: 5'-0" to 5'-9"
\- Habitat: Near large bodies of freshwater or saltwater.
\- Mobility: Mainly sprinting. On occasion, the QPRH can be spotted walking or skipping.- Identifying traits: Deep purple hood, fast movement.
\- Nemeses: Hummingbirds, for reasons which baffle scientists to this day.
\- Special Skills: Ability to hold their breath for extended periods, allowing them to dive to great depths.
Quick Purple Riding Hoods are somewhat rare. Additionally, they prefer to remain unnoticed by standard human society, so they are not frequently spotted. They can be identified by the deep purple hood and their proximity to water. They have the smallest size range of all the Riding Hood types.
*Did you know...* that Quick Purples love diving into deep water? Their breath holding capabilities are so good that they have even been documented sleeping on lake beds!
\--------------
**Sly Green Riding Hood (SGRH)**
\- Estimated Population: Unknown.
\- Height Range: 4'-4" to 5'-11" (Awaiting more verification as research continues.)
\- Habitat: Forests and jungles.
\- Mobility: Tiptoeing and creeping.- Identifying traits: Forest green hood, subtle movements, and quiet voices.
\- Nemeses: Unknown.
\- Special Skills: Stealth. Remaining still and quiet enough to avoid detection in their forest and jungle homes.
Sly Green Riding Hoods are extremely rare. In fact, their presence was only confirmed within the last year. They primarily keep to themselves, choosing to stay away from human society. With patience and gifts of chocolate, the SGRH can be persuaded to associate with the scientists who wish to learn more about them. However, the SGRH are quite clever and slow to let their guard down, so we hope to learn more as we continue to earn their trust.
*Did you know...* Sly Greens have beautiful, hypnotic singing voices? They are reluctant to display their talents to outsiders, but scientists have been able to hide recording devices near the SGRH homes. So far, each recording has provided us with a unique and lovely peek into their culture!
\--------------
Thank you for taking the time to learn about the lovely and unique creatures that make up the Riding Hood family! Sign up for our newsletter if you'd like to keep receiving updates on these fascinating beings!
***- The Society for the Studying and Protecting of Riding Hoods.***
\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~
r/WannaWriteSometimes
(Edit - spelling correction & fixed formatting)
|
After the whole debacle of Little Red Riding Hood almost getting eaten alive with her grandma by a deranged wolf, she became an overnight sensation.
I hate to say it, but I was a little jealous. Not because I wasn't happy for Little Red's survival (even though she teased me constantly), nor was I envious of her recent fame. It was the fact that she was the youngest one of the four Riding Hoods and her ability was already perfected.
Little Red could talk to animals at just 10 years old.
Tall Green could glide so well, you'd think he was flying. He was the oldest of us at 17.
Curly Orange had long curly hair and she could shoot sparks from her fingertips. For any bonfire we went to, she was the one to get the flames roaring. She was 15.
Then there was me. Stout Blue, age 13. I wasn't really sure what my power was, but everyone insisted I had one because I was the son of two magical Riding Hoods.
We had our mentor, Dolores who was an older woman who primarily raised us and helped with our abilities. She knew how to cultivate our powers, except for me. Dolores also used us to help make the world a better place. Tall Green would save a cat in a tree, Curly Orange would help keep people warm who didn't have fire in their houses or in the streets. Little Red helped people with their pets to find out how they were feeling and if they were sick at all.
Then there was me who sat there and watched all of it. Dolores couldn't figure out what my ability was, but she didn't give up on me. Instead, I acted as the secretary who took notes about all of the people we helped along the way. I practically carried around books. But in between all of that, Dolores gave me tests to see if I had an ability with telekinesis, or x-ray vision. So far, nothing.
At the height of Little Red's fame, Delores wanted us to move away from our home town of Bellview to another part of the country to take a break. Fan letters and journalists were always coming at our door. All of us were on edge since people would walk by our house at night and I'd hear them from my room say, "Can you believe the famous Little Red lives there?"
It was getting creepy.
Dolores hired a carriage to take us to Marra, which was a nice vacationing village in the Northeast. They had a beautiful lake there with a beach, and Dolores wanted to get a house by the water.
"I don't think I've ever taken all of you to the beach before," Dolores said when we arrived to our temporary log cabin home with four bedrooms.
"You've taken Tall Green and I," Curly Orange said.
"Yes, but Stout Blue and Little Red have never gone."
Which was true. I had never been on the beach, and when we went one day for a picnic, I found the sand to be rather annoying. Nor did the idea of being in the water sound too appealing.
When we wrapped up our picnic on the beach, Little Red, Curly Orange, and Tall Green all jumped into the water and swam out, horsing around as they splashed and played other aquatic games.
"You don't want to go into the water?" Dolores asked me.
"Nah, that's okay, I'd rather sit here and read," I said. Which was true. I always felt alienated from them anyways. To cope with it, I learned to enjoy being by myself.
"Don't swim too far out now!" Dolores hollered at them, but they were deep into the lake.
That's when I heard Little Red screen and I saw Curly Orange and Tall Green rushing back.
"Dolores! Little Red is drowning!" Tall Green hollered.
Dolores' eyes widened and she sprinted to the water. I followed after her, but I wasn't sure why. *She is the adult here, she will take care of us.*
But I wanted to help anyways. I dove into the water and swam after Little Red, but the waves were harsh and the current had some pull behind it.
"This isn't good!" I heard Dolores yell somewhere off in the distance.
I just focused on swimming through the water, and even though the waves crashed into me, I was able to muscle through them, and I noticed something. Water was shooting up my nose, but I could still breathe. I wasn't coughing or having any troubles with water filling my lungs. It felt just as normal as breathing on land.
With the sudden realization I dipped below the water and opened my eyes, I could see Little Red twenty yards away from me, sinking down into a dark abyss, but I could still breathe without any issues. I felt as if I could dance through the water.
I swam with all of my might, clawing through the current with each stroke until I came up to unconscious Little Red and I wrapped my arms around her and brought her up to the surface.
r/randallcooper
| 2021-05-26T11:34:08
| 2021-05-26T11:32:21
| 204
| 24
|
[WP] 10 years ago, your dad went out to buy milk. Today, he's returned with the milk and recalls nothing of the past 10 years, swearing he was only gone for 20 minutes.
|
"Hey, I'm ba-"
The man stopped abruptly as I turned back to face him. And my jaw dropped open in shock.
I had just been sitting here on the couch, messing around with my phone, when in through the back door comes my father. The father who left 'to grab some milk from the store" ten years ago.
Exactly as I remember him, with his rugged face, 5 0 clock shadow, piercing brown eyes, and that stupid Mets cap that I used to hide from him, and we would always get a laugh. My dad was everything to me.
Until he ran away.
But now he stands there, his jaw agape, with a look of... is that sadness in his eyes?
"Er- Eric? Son? Is- is that you?"
I nod. "Yeah, DAD, this is me. And what does it matter to you?" I regard him coldly.
His brow furrows in hurt and confusion. "Son... what happened to you? You look like a man now."
I raise my brow surreptitiously. "Yeah, I grew up. You left when I was 9 years old. That kinda happens when you abandon your family for 10 YEARS!" by this point I was shouting, full of anger that came crashing back for the first time in years.
This man - my father, my world, - left me and mom and my sister without a warning, and never came back. And now he thinks he can just waltz through the door?!
"Son-" he says, setting the milk carton he was holding down on the counter. I jumped a little, I hadn't noticed that before. "Son, I just left for twenty minutes. How did this happen?"
At this point I had a pause. "Twenty minutes? What do you mean?"
His eyes widen. "I just left to the grocery store, and when I get back home my little boy is all grown up!" His eyes fill with tears of sadness. For all the years he missed.
My eyes fill with tears too, and I reach out my hand to him. "Its ok. You're back now mr. Rey- I mean Dad."
The man narrows his eyes. "Son... what did I say to you every night before i tucked you in?"
The boys eyes narrow. "You said, sweet dreams son."
The mans eyes fill with tears again, but this time of anger. "I would say, rest up, buttercup. You're wrong. Good try though, you lousy excuse for a Kleerian."
He then draws a pistol out of the waistband of his jeans and fires. The bullet strikes the boy in the forehead. A sneer of anger is the last expression he gets out before he hits the floor.
Now lifeless, the Kleerian returns to it's true body. The handsome young features of the boy writhe and move as they retract into the hideous, insectiel face of the Kleerian. His slightly calloused hands warp into claws, stained with blood - human blood. His hair shrinks into his skull until it's nothing more than the creature's shelled head.
Frowning slightly, the man moves past the lifeless body and onto the stairs. Upstairs, he enters the boy's room.
The photographs of him in his little league uniform are still there. The room is just like the nine year old boy who it belongs to should look.
But the boy is gone. A quick check around the house confirmed that his wife was too.
He lifts a walkie talkie to his ear.
"Well?" The crackly voice on the other end says.
"They moved fast. I cant have been gone for more than twenty minutes, and they were able to take them and be long gone".
He nudges the Kleerian's body with his toe. "They even took the shape of a kid who looked Luke my son might when he's older. Theyve clearly planned this long ahead".
"I agree." Said the other voice. "They're making their move far quicker than we anticipated."
"Well one thing's for sure." Said the man. "They've taken my family, and I wont rest until I get them back."
|
(Disclaimer; this is a repost of mine from a very similar thread a month back. I still like it, though)
_____
Thirteen and a half years ago, my dad went out the the store. He said it was for milk, it was actually for a pack of smokes, none of that is super relevant.
Six months ago, he came home.
It was... uncomfortable, at first. Mom had remarried. I had a boyfriend, and dad hadn't had the luxury of a half decade to come to terms with me being super gay. We'd remodeled the upstairs at one point, and replaced the front lawn with a less water-sucking courtyard. General improvements made over time, that added up to an alien home to someone who was out of their own era.
But he was back. He was home. My dad. I couldn't be mad or awkward forever; I'd loved him, and still did. He was always there for me, until the day he wasn't.
There is, with humans, an imperative to search for a cause to something. Why, we ask. Why is the sun so bright, why is the sky blue? Why does this bird live here and this one does not? Why am I sick, and why can't we fix it?
Why did a human man, age thirty nine, drop off the face of the world for thirteen long years, and come back as if nothing had happened?
Fuck, he even brought back that beat up old pickup he loved. Loves.
So we started looking. I took time off work. Mom canceled her vacation plans. Even Devon, her husband who had been starting to feel more and more like a 'dad', sat with us when we needed an extra head, and gave us polite space when it became uncomfortable. He and dad got along really well, though, which was surprising. Dad was taking this whole thing kinda well. Maybe he was just delightfully surprised good smartphones existed.
But after six months, what it was looking like was that there was no why. There was no greater plan to this. No magic, no divine intervention, no summoning from another dimension. No curse, hex, pact, or glitch in the matrix. There were no anomalous energy readings, no quantum fluctuations, no... anything. There was just something that had happened. Once. And never again.
Until we found the support group.
I went with dad sometimes, other times he went on his own, when he said he needed space. I always felt my heart skip a beat when that happened, because I remembered what happened the last time he left the house alone. It was a meetup group at the local library, every Saturday afternoon, for people who... well, there wasn't a blanket term. For people like my dad.
People who had their whole lives upended in an instant, from something that didn't make sense. They talked, they commiserated, they cried together. They found something there that I didn't fully understand had been lost, but that they all needed.
Cassandra was the woman who started the group. She'd been dead for most of her life, and was still coming to terms with how that even worked. Her husband was really amazing, always there for her, even when he'd just attended her funeral again. She told us, "There are some things in the world that we don't understand yet. And there are some things in the world we don't want to understand. But then, there's those things that understanding slides around, like oil and water. We're those."
I'd spent the next week calling my dad "Oily" with a big old grin, until he'd laughingly tossed me into the community swimming pool with a throw that I remembered from my childhood, and suddenly felt the pain of missing again. We'd stopped laughing, but not stopped understanding each other then.
There were other people who came and went from the group. Bob, who sometimes got to relive days, but not in any particular order. He'd always tell us if he'd looped, to be polite, and offer up advice on who shouldn't buy lottery scratchers. Mars was less polite; a young person from another Earth, who had a lot of cultural adaptation to do. She yelled a lot. Or Louis, who'd found a really, really old coin that made him consume wi-fi and microwave radiation for some reason.
My favorite though was the guy my age, Indri. He said he'd been cursed, which was actually kind of hard to take, because curses implied magic, which implied it could be repeated. That sort of systemic thing was really uncomfortable, almost distressing, to the rest of the group. They didn't just think that our problems were one-offs, they needed them to be unique. If only so we could know it wasn't happening to anyone else. Not like we ever would with Indri. I don't actually know his actual name, I just write something different, because everything written or recorded about him blanks itself after a while. It took me a while to figure out that I have to treat him as a hypothetical, or a fictional character to get anything to stick. Makes it hard to keep up a friendship with him, but we're getting coffee after the group this weekend, so it must be working.
I know all of this sounds like it doesn't have a point, or like there's disappointment that there wasn't some grand plot, or colossal family drama, or a big twist to it. Maybe there will be, eventually. But there is a point. My dad's back. He's having trouble adjusting, but he's back. My dad, who I thought was either dead or an asshole for thirteen years, is home again. He bought that damn milk, he carried it through thirteen impossible years, and he made it back to an unfamiliar world. But he did it.
And life goes on.
I'm gonna go hug my dad now.
| 2022-11-18T17:32:53
| 2019-04-08T15:26:06
| 51
| 12
|
[WP] Two immortals meet and fall in love. Neither of them are aware of the other's immortality and the years are flying by...
|
I thought I was done with love. Until I met Mary.
Love is complicated as an immortal. The longer that I've lived, the shorter my marriages fly by. They become blinks, blips in time compared with my lifespan. And the sorrow that follows after the inevitable death of a wife tends to last twice as long as the marriage itself.
So by the twentieth century, I had sworn off love. To satisfy my corporal hunger I'd still have flings- I dated Audrey Hepburn four or five times, as well as a few other actresses. After a while, it becomes easy- seduction is second nature after a thousand years.
I don't know what drove me so crazy about Mary. Maybe it was her smile, or the way her cheeks flushed with laughter after a glass of red wine. Or maybe it was the curls of hair that fell to her shoulders and sparkled in the moon light when we kissed for the first time. Or maybe it was the sheer amount of *work* I had to invest to win her over, a challenge unlike any for the past five hundred years.
That made Mary dangerous. Because falling so deeply in love would only result in sorrow for centuries after.
"Promise me you'll love me forever," Mary had said as we held hands, drifting over a small lake by rowboat. And I know she sensed me hesitate before I said "I promise", and we both knew in that moment the love had been spoiled. Even though I knew I would love her forever.
So that night, before I slept alone on the couch, planned to leave on a train east first thing in the morning, I wrote Mary a letter explaining the true reason why I had to leave. And I stuffed it into her bag, before falling asleep. And when I awoke, Mary had already left for the morning groceries.
I boarded the train in silence, watching the town disappear in the distance. And half a day later, I felt something in my pocket, and pulled out an envelope.
*John*, it read, *I've been meaning to tell you for quite some time, but when I said forever, I meant it. I know it is hard to believe, but I cannot die John. And I cannot bear to see you die while I persist on. So tomorrow morning, when I leave for the groceries, I'm not coming back. I love you, John, and I hope you understand. Goodbye.*
I read that letter several hundred miles away from where I left Mary. And I imagine at some point that day, she read my letter as well, and we both looked back towards the town we left behind.
And realized what we had actually left behind.
But in my heart, there's one thing I know. I know that we'll meet again.
Even if it takes forever.
***
By Leo
If you liked this story, check out my other work at /r/leoduhvinci
A lot of you are asking why they wouldn't just turn around and go back. That's kind of the point here, that they would. But there's always the question if Mary never opened her letter.
|
"Say, Miria."
"What's up Isaac?"
"Technology sure is an incredible thing."
"Something about it on your mind?"
"Why yes Miria. See, technology develops at an extraordinary rate, and only gets more and more complex by the era. Wouldn't believe some of the latest innovations we've seen go obsolete on us before we can afford them."
"You could say that again. Phones are looking nicer by the day, even if they do drive apart the family ecosystem. Oh it's tragic Isaac!"
"It certainly is, and did we not do our part by robbing that phone center of all their latest models the week before to preserve family values in this country?"
"What a noble thing we did!"
"Most certainly my dear. And that *same* center now has phones you can tap on the screen to issue commands!"
"I think someone called it a smart phone."
"Hmm, they don't look so smart to me, if phones are still driving children and parents from each other. The nerve of those smart phones! That's the thing though Miria. We're having a harder time catching up with those developments to keep up with our various quests."
"Oh I see Isaac. I think I know what you mean."
"How so Miria?"
"Well, there was something I read from a magazine I stole. About how technology in our daily lives grows at such a rapid rate, that average people no longer question where those technologies come from. So people would rather upgrade than ask questions."
"Yes, YES, that is EXACTLY what I am talking about! We alone are the observant defenders of righteousness, the noble thieves that protect families, children and discount hot dogs alike!"
"And taking away all the unhappiness these rapid developments are inflicting!"
"Giving people reasons to *be* happy!"
"And keep up with the world as best we can!"
"OH MIRIA!"
"ISAAC!"
"COME TO MY ARMS!"
"How I love you Isaac!"
"Yes Miria, we will continue this mission of ours for as long as it takes! But say, that reminds me."
"Of what Isaac?"
"We should go and grab some dinner soon."
"When was the last time we ate?"
"I can't recall, but see, only amateurs keep track of time to eat at regular intervals. *We* are master thieves for the public good! Only when we are hungry should we take time out of our mission to refuel ourselves!"
"Wow Isaac, and we're definitely masters with how long we've been doing this!"
"Quite a while now, hasn't it?"
"Is that something we should be keeping track of time on?"
"Oh, uh, of course not! Only our glorious purpose, having each other, and that lovely little restaurant on the corner of 3rd and Smith is enough!"
"But Little Dizzy's closed Isaac."
"Is that so?"
"Yes. Can't remember how long ago it was, but you were so upset when they were no longer around."
"Hmm. Yet how *could* I remember?"
"Remember what Isaac?"
"Exactly! Our crusade is all that matters!"
"Oh right, I almost forgot!"
"Speaking of the crusade, we'll need to get some more finances to continue our noble mission."
"Yes, we have been running pretty low."
"Then that settles it. There's only one way to steal enough money to do so."
"Steal from the mafia?"
"Exactly my dear. We steal from the mafia."
"Where can we find them these days?"
"I can't remember. Lets go look for them."
-------------------------
*Based on the series [Baccano](http://myanimelist.net/anime/2251/Baccano). More at r/galokot, and thanks for reading!*
| 2016-04-27T21:47:49
| 2016-04-27T21:20:00
| 519
| 80
|
[WP] “I am Lucifer, The Morning Star, The Firstborn, The Second Light, The Prince of Lies, The Adversary, The Dragon, The Serpent, Lord Of Evil, The First of The Fallen and I came here for one thing and one thing only” As he said this he summoned forth a Switch. “I came here to Brawl”
|
"Brawl was on the Wii."
Satan looked at me with a look of contempt.
"Yes, but aren't the Ice Climbers in this one?"
"Yeah but you can't chain grab with them."
"How did you know I was going to chain grab?"
"You're literally Satan."
"I'd think that's kind of judging a book by its cover isn't it? Anyway, what about Meta Kn-"
"Not broken anymore."
"Falco?"
"No chain grab and they removed DACUS."
Satan pondered this for a moment, contemplating his options. No doubt sifting through the highest tiers of the Brawl tier list.
"Diddy?"
"Only one banana. He has an infinite though."
"Is it easy?"
"Of course not."
"Damn! Olimar?"
"Not bad, actually. But he only has three Pikmin now."
"Snake?"
"Busted."
"AHA!"
"But still no DACUS."
"DAMN!"
I placed my token on Joker. Satan seemed flustered.
"WHO IS THIS?"
"Joker."
"Alright, I'm done! This game makes no sense anymore!"
Flames engulfed Satan and he disappeared. I smiled and whispered under my breath.
"No Johns."
|
*I kneel down onto the dirt, slicing my hand ever so slightly with the silver knife.*
"Great Lord of the Dark, I bring to you but a simple request..."
*I let blood drip into the ceramic bowl at the center of the red spray-painted pentagram. The symbol surrounding me begins to glow red.*
"I wish to test my worthiness against thee through but a simple contest..."
*I lay the Switch on the ground in front of me as the land begins to heat up. Clouds from nowhere shoot forth lightning that cracks above my head, the thunder resounding through every bone.*
"If thy presence shall be granted, I only hope that thee accepts my challenge..."
*The air crackles as a billion volts strike the ground before where I am kneeling. I bow my head.*
"O' Great Lord..."
*He speaks.*
“I am Lucifer, the Morning Star, the Firstborn," *He stops, taking in his surroundings. The forest must have been unexpected.*
"The Second Light, the Prince of Lies, the Adversary, the Dragon, The Serpent, Lord Of Evil!" *He smiles down at me, offering me a hand to help me up. I accept.*
"I am the First of the Fallen and I came here for one thing and one thing only..."
*In a flash of bright orange flame, He summons forth a Switch.*
“...I came here to Brawl."
| 2020-02-22T18:24:18
| 2020-02-22T18:00:54
| 39
| 18
|
[WP] Write a horror story in Dr Seuss's writing style.
|
Some fear monsters with big, sharp sticks,
Some fear crowds throwing big, heavy bricks!
Some fear a ghost,
Some fear the most,
Some fear an execution by rope!
But of these fears are lame,
All of these fears are tame,
Compared to the one I’m about to explain.
The real thing to fear isn’t
A stick
A brick
A ghost
A rope
Never hide your guns too close to your right-hand.
Never keep the pills too close too close in the night-stand.
Not unless you want a mouth full of lead
Not unless you wanna be sprawled out, dead.
Because the real monsters aren’t the ones under your bed.
The real monsters are the ones in your head.
|
The Zingdonger's fast.
The Zingdonger's quick.
You will not last,
if you hear its dark tick.
With legs like a spunitt,
And, eyes like a meether,
You cannot outrun it,
or hide from it, either.
If you hear the clack,
then splitamazoo.
That means it's back.
And it's after you.
It lives for the run,
So, don't give up yet.
That'd be no fun,
and I care for my pet.
| 2016-06-22T23:23:07
| 2016-06-22T23:09:42
| 213
| 92
|
[WP] Long ago the legendary sword Excalibur was melted down and lost to history. The mythical blade's steel ended up in your butter knife, with all its magical properties intact.
|
EBAY
Steel Forged Knife Set with Celtic Engravings.
Price: €34,99.
4/5 stars
Review by T. Smith:
*Great knife set, cuts smooth and are easy to sharpen. Weirdest thing though, every time I pas by the sink a hand will reach out of the water and hand me one.*
|
Arty slathered margarine over thick Texas toast with his favorite butter knife. He squinted and read the inscription on the knife, which he did every time he used it.
*Take me up* it read on one side and *Cast me away* on the other.
He shook his head. The knife had been passed down for generations but he never got the full story where it came from. Best bet was from somewhere over the pond, where his ancestors originated. More than anything, he thought it was cool.
Arty held the knife up against the sun streaming through the kitchen window. It reflected the sunlight perfectly against smooth stainless steel and slightly melted the remains of the margarine.
He looked down. His cat sat before him, bowing.
“Hey there, Mr. Fluffy.”
Arty licked the margarine off the blade and got down on one knee. He put the knife gently on one of Fluffy’s shoulders. The cat remained in place, only slightly tilting its head towards the edge of the knife.
“By the power vested in me, by all that is true, right and just in this world, I dub thee Sir Fluffykins the Third.”
The cat stood on its hind legs and meowed. Arty had never seen him do that before. Fluffy then ran to the back door and scratched at it.
Arty opened the door and Fluffy bolted.
“Godspeed, Sir Fluffykins. Off for another grand adventure.”
Arty laughed.
“Man, that was some good weed."
Back in the kitchen, he bit into a piece toast. Crap, he had forgotten the bacon. He put a pan full of congealed grease on the stove, set it to high, and grabbed a handful of the bacon from the fridge.
He threw the bacon in the pan. It spluttered and spit a glob of grease onto his forearm.
“Ouch, goddamit.” Reflexively, Arty grabbed the butter knife. The pain disappeared completely. He released the knife, not sure why he had grabbed it in the first place. The pain returned.
“Shit man, I must be trippin'.”
Arty ran cool water over the small grease burn. He washed the knife and put it in his pocket.
Grabbing another slice of toast he strolled into the living room and turned on the TV.
The doorbell rang. It was Barry, his dumbass neighbor.
“Whaddya want, Barry?”
“I see you parked your car in front of my house. Move it.”
“Dude, you serious?”
Barry had that stupid smirk on his face whenever he thought he had one up on Arty. Guy had called the cops on him way too many times over even more petty shit than this.
Arty ran his fingers over the butter knife in his pocket. Barry’s smirk melted away and his eyes began to water.
“The hell, sorry. My eyes are burning.” Barry turned his face away.
Arty fished the knife out of his pocket and held it high.
“Shit, sorry. Something wrong with my eyes. Something... blinding.” Barry ran off the porch and back to his house.
Arty felt a wave of goosebumps run over his skin.
“I really am tripping.”
Back inside, Arty sat the knife on the coffee table.
His cellphone rang. The caller display showed *Buckingham Palace*.
“Hello?”
“Hello, sir. This is Gerald from Buckingham Palace,” a British sounding voice spoke.
“Good one bud. Nice work with the caller id too.”
“Sir. Please. This is an important matter."
“Whatever. I don’t believe you.”
The man began to speak at length, his accent adding weight to the argument.
“Okay, man. If this is a prank, it’s a pretty good one. Whaddya want?”
“Our Majesty, Queen Elizabeth the second, would like a word with you.”
“Sure, put her on.”
“Please hold.”
Royal British music played. The kind you hear in those boring period pieces on TV.
“Hello, dear.”
“Hi there, Queeny.”
“Hmm, yes. I am officially extending an invitation to you and a guest to Buckingham Palace, all expenses paid. Gerald will fill you in with the details.”
Arty wasn’t sure if he should laugh or hang up. Either this was the real deal or the best prank ever.
“Um, okay. Sure.”
“Oh, and dear, this is very important. Please bring the butter knife.”
---
r/SerializedFiction/
| 2018-03-06T11:40:04
| 2018-03-06T10:12:29
| 2,613
| 136
|
[WP] The new generation of vampire has discovered that just by taking iron supplements and vitamin D drops, they’re feeling fine without drinking human blood
|
The new generation of vampires was unlike any that had come before them. They were stronger, faster, and more intelligent than their predecessors, and they had discovered a way to survive without drinking human blood.
By taking iron supplements and vitamin D drops, the vampires were able to feel strong and healthy without the need for human blood. This revolutionary discovery had the potential to change the vampire world forever.
But the vampires soon realized that their newfound way of life came with its own challenges. Iron and vitamin D were not always easy to come by, and the vampires had to search far and wide for these essential nutrients.
In order to secure a steady supply of iron and vitamin D, the vampires turned to the world of finance. They began to invest heavily in iron futures, buying up large quantities of iron at low prices and holding onto it until the price rose.
At the same time, the vampires also began to invest in asteroid mining. They saw the potential for vast riches in the endless expanse of space, and they were determined to be at the forefront of this new industry.
As the vampires' wealth and power grew, so too did their influence in the world. They became leaders in the worlds of finance and space exploration, shaping the future of both industries in ways that no one could have predicted.
And all the while, the vampires continued to thrive and flourish, thanks to their clever use of iron and vitamin D supplements. They had truly found a way to live in peace and prosperity without the need for human blood.
|
"But I Am A Vegan!" I screamed at my obsessive and abusive ex as he sat there smirking at me. He laughed as I tried to throw up thick red liquid he had just forced down my throat.
"It's too late Crystal, by this time tomorrow you'll be chowing down on poor old Nancy over there." Samel said smirking. I looked over at my new girlfriend. She was tied up and terrified. I had tried so hard to turn my life around and heal from my childhood. Now all I could do was cry as Samel left and locked the door behind him. Nancy tried to smile at me.
"It will be ok maybe there's a vegan option for vampires?" She said trying to comfort me. I crawled over to her and did my best to free her from her ropes.
When we were both finally able to stand up and walk I looked around and saw the window.
The rest of that night became a blur. The next thing I knew I was curled up against a deer in the woods covered in blood, Nancy nowhere to be found. And that's how my next few years were spent. I was too scared to be around humans and possibly hurt them.
-15years later
Nancy pov-
"And your sure this will work? That this is the proper amount of iron and vitamin D to replace blood for vampires?" I asked looking at my very tired looking vampire lab assistant named Josh.
"Yes I've been taking it for a week now and have never felt better" Josh said smiling as he looked at me.
"Good then it's finally time to go find my dear Crystal" I said as we headed out to the woods. I had been tracking her movements and working to fix what Samel had broken. He had been a grade a stalker since Crystal left him. When he saw that I had gotten with her he graduated from stalking to doing everything to make her life miserable. He had failed each time until he finally got so desperate as to become a vampire and turn her by force as well. After I find my love revenge on her ex is next.
| 2022-12-04T08:46:36
| 2022-12-04T08:32:43
| 72
| 53
|
[WP] Write a Story that has the plot of pre-schooler’s educational program, but the tone of a gritty film noir.
|
Every day was the same. They all blurred together into a malaise each one indistinguishable from the last. Another day, another mystery, another missing number found. Truth be told, I can’t remember any of them- the people I help. A hundred faces, a hundred names that disappear into the murkiness of routine.
It’s a good thing I hate change.
I took another sip of my juice box while counting my cash box: 3 buttons, a bottle cap, and a paperclip. The landlord demanded cash and if he didn’t get it, well he wouldn’t be a problem anymore. It’s a sad world where some problems we need to keep. I needed a case before my life got less complicated but also a whole lot more.
That’s when the kid walked in. Sandy haired and freckled. His eyes darting around my office. He looked a little older, maybe 7 or 8. That wasn’t good. The older ones always had more complicated problems than my usual clients.
“Are you… are you the Numbers Detective?”
“I’m not the secretary.” I retorted. I leaned back in my chair to let him see the water gun in my shoulder holster. It’s always good to let the bigger kids know you’ve got your own backup.
“My name is Zach and I can’t find number 9.”
“Number 9 huh?” I pull a candy cigarette from the silver case I keep on the desk. I absentmindedly tapped it against my desk while I stared out my office window and considered it. After awhile I squinted at him and threw the candy cigarette in my mouth. “Come have a seat and tell me all about it”
———
To be continued(because my battery os dying)
|
I take another sip of my Elmer’s glue. A valentine sits on my desk reading,
I hart u,
Ur secret crush.
Immediately, my heart beats faster from reading the note. I take another sip of gloppy Elmer’s to take the edge off. I examine the card for more clues on that temptress aiming to give me a heart attack. It’s before recess, and before the day is over, I must crack this case.
I write a note to my best friend Johnny with the stationary on my desk. Johnny is the school hustler, and he can get me all the gossip from the hallways. After folding another piece of paper to make an envelope, I stick a dum dum in it for the upfront fee for info. Then I finish the last drop of my Elmer’s glue before heading to the craft station for more.
Yes, I am addicted to drinking glue and only the GOOD stuff. Elmer’s glue has the perfect recipe for washing away the pain of having homework. I can quit anytime, but my teacher says it’s toxic for me. What does she know? Outside the hallway of the arts and crafts classroom, Mark stands outside.
“Need more Elmers?” Mark asked.
“Yes. Two bottles.”
“I’m going to need three dum dums for that.”
“That’s two more dum dums than last time.”
“Yeah, but the teacher’s on to me.”
“Fine,” I reach in my pocket and grab the last two suckers, “will bubblegum and mystery do?”
“Yup.”
I wince after handing him the suckers. Hopefully, I can sneak some Elmer’s out on the playground during recess. After receiving my expensive vices in exchange, I hear a shout from Johnny.
“I have an idea on who your secret crush is.”
“Really? Who?”
“Yeah. Look at your card.”
I pull the card out of my pocket. There are carebears and hearts on it. Johnny snatches the card out and points at it,
“See! Remember last Thursday during recess when Liz wore the carebears shirt?”
“You think she likes me?”
“Do you like her?”
“Uh.. yeah.”
Then Johnny sprints off, shouting along the way, “Aaron likes Liz, Aaron likes Liz….” I start to chase the snitch, and he’s turning around the corners and jumping off stairs. It was hard to keep up, and I gave up. It’s time to get out there on the ol’ playground and do things the old-fashioned way. More stationery is in my pocket, so I am writing another note to Liz. It reads,
“Do you like me?”
Yes
Or
No
Please circle.
To seal the envelope, I need to use glue. I can’t sacrifice my Elmer’s. I try searching for off-brand glue, but none can be found. I’m not sure if I should use my special glue to ask if Liz likes me.
| 2022-09-10T18:35:10
| 2022-09-10T17:12:21
| 74
| 24
|
[WP] Write the script and dialogue for two separate first date scenarios. One that goes well, and one that goes poorly. HOWEVER, they must both have the same exact dialogue in both stories.
|
"Travelled far this evening?" Steve pulled out Helen's chair and waited until she dropped into it gracefully. She adjusted her blonde hair over her shoulder and grinned at him across the table.
"You know I haven't," she replied. Her gaze dropped to the tablecloth as she shyly returned his smile.
"Would you like champagne?" Steve manfully showed her the bottle, twisting it in the glistening ice bucket.
"What a fantastic choice. Moet really makes an occasion, doesn't it?" Helen leaned forward, enthralled, as Steve popped the cork and poured it, golden and fizzing, into her tall glass.
"To a wonderful first date," Steve said, holding the glass aloft. "I can't tell you how long I've been planning this."
"I won't lift my drink," Helen said. Steve looked at her quizzically and she returned by lifting her hand. Her wrist was in a solid white cast.
"That'll make dinner difficult!" Steve sighed. "Do you want me to cut everything for you? That's the only way I can see it being easier."
"Please don't," Helen said. "I'll do it."
"Well, what do you want me to do?" Steve said.
"Nothing," Helen replied. "Please, sit down. Have some champagne."
"I can't believe we've been neighbours all this time and this is the first time we've done this," Steve said happily.
----------------
"Travelled far this evening?" Steve grinned at the woman tied to the chair on the other side of the table.
"You know I haven't," she replied through gritted teeth. Struggling against her bonds, her date watched her impassively.
"Would you like champagne?" Steve dropped two pills into the tall glass and began pouring liquid over them. They dissolved into nothingness.
"What a fantastic choice. Moet really makes an occasion, doesn't it?" Helen's voice was ragged, her tone sarcastic.
"To a wonderful first date," Steve said, holding the glass aloft. "I can't tell you how long I've been planning this."
"I won't lift my drink," Helen promised.
"That'll make dinner difficult!" Steve sighed. "Do you want me to cut everything for you? That's the only way I can see it being easier." He lifted the carving knife at his side and advanced towards the woman. She shrank back in her seat, shaking her head.
"Please don't," Helen pleased. "I'll do it."
"Well, what do you want me to do?" Steve asked.
"Nothing," Helen replied. "Please, sit down. Have some champagne."
"I can't believe we've been neighbours all this time and this is the first time we've done this," Steve said happily. He pulled Helen's head back by the hair and began to pour the champagne into her open mouth.
|
“Oh, God.”
She was beautiful, but the restaurant I’d chosen was clearly garbage. I never should have trusted just one review on Yelp.
I sat down in the chair at our table, trying to ignore the layers of caked-on rust near the legs. She was staring at her phone, her nose crinkled. Perhaps it was pre-emptive disgust.
“Hi. I’m, uh, I’m John.”
She looked up. I could see Instagram photos reflected in her glasses.
“Nice to meet you,” she said with clear disdain.
“Shall, we, uh…shall we place our orders?”
“Nah, let’s just bask in the ambience.” I can handle some sarcasm, but not when it’s positively dripping from my date’s lips. She glared at me, then returned to her phone.
A few minutes passed. I nervously sipped my water, which tasted astoundingly terrible and make me dread the thought of an actual entrée.
“You know what? Maybe this isn’t the best place,” I offered.
She sighed. “I’m just gonna find a coffee shop.”
She pushed in her chair, which squeaked obnoxiously, and left through the front door.
I stared at the menu. McDonald’s was sounding pretty good. I left a tip on the table, thanking them for putting up with us, and sprinted for the exit.
***
“Oh, God.”
She was beautiful. The restaurant didn’t look all that appealing, to be honest, but I didn’t care. I was hypnotized.
I sat down in the chair across from her. There was a little bit of rust near the legs but I chose to ignore it.
“Hi. I’m, uh, I’m John.”
She looked up from her phone and smiled, clicking the screen off and placing the virtual world in her pocket.
“Nice to meet you,” she said, leaning her cheek on her hand.
“Shall, we, uh…shall we place our orders?”
“Nah, let’s just bask in the ambience.” She laughed as she said it and gestured all around her to the tasteless décor. I laughed as well, scanning the menu.
We both caught glances at each other and seemed to find everything mutually unappealing.
“You know what? Maybe this isn’t the best place,” I said.
She chuckled. “I’m just gonna find a coffee shop.”
She pulled out her phone and opened up Google Maps, showing me the options as she scrolled through them. I was going to apologize for making a terrible choice, but didn’t feel the need to.
We got up from our chairs, left a tip, and headed for the exit, strolling side by side.
We arrived at the coffee shop at 1 PM and didn’t leave until it closed at 6. Thank God for that awful restaurant.
| 2016-07-06T08:37:55
| 2016-07-06T08:37:32
| 130
| 61
|
[WP] By some magic, you are granted the wish to become the best in the world at something. You are disappointed when you notice no change in your ability. The next day, however, you notice that all over the world, people are becoming worse at one very particular skill.
|
I thought it was a harmless wish.
But now everything's turned wrong.
Lucy no longer talks, nor does anyone else for that matter. She still understands me, or at least I think so from her slow nods and lifeless stares. At least Lucy's still active with her day job but in the end she, like everyone else, is only going through the motions.
At night I hold her hand tight and flip open our old picture book. We look at past events, memories of warmth, fun and excitement. If I crack enough dumb jokes then perhaps she could manage a smile.
But deep down I know it's all pointless. There is neither joy nor mirth in her expressions.
All I wanted was to be happy.
|
"Thank you, we will be in touch" the director said cutting off the middle of my audition.
I blew it again.
Maybe I should just give up, I will never get my big break. It was stupid to try and become an actor. I will never make it. I should just go into finance like my parents wanted.
Ouch!
As I was walking out of the studio I tripped on a prop table and knocked everything over. Fuck it, if they wont cast me, I'm going to steal something from them, I don't care anymore.
So I shove some Aladdin style lamp on my jacket and hurry out.
I get in my car, and I have such a rush, I've never stollen anything before. I pull out the lamp. It's made of brass, the smell reminds me of my high school days playing the trumpet as the odor stains my hands.
I give it a small rub and a whisp of smoke comes out of the lamp.
What the hell, I don't remember getting high before my audition, but right in front of me a tiny genie sits in my lap, no larger than an action figure.
"I will grant you one wish" says the genie
"I thought you gave three wishes? And I thought genies would be bigger..."
"Believe the myths or believe your eyes" declares the genie "now make your wish and change your life"
Perplexed. But I know the one think I want more than anything "I wish I was the greatest actor in the world!"
"And so it is done!" Shouts the genie, and disappears in a small puff of smoke.
I felt nothing, not a thing had changed, and I still had bombed my audition.
At that moment, my phone buzzes. It's a text from Steve "where you at? Hamilton starts in an hour, we can't miss this dude!"
We bought our tickets to Hamilton 6 months ago, I couldn't wait! And I had almost forgot! I rush over to steves how's and we catch the subway to time square. I can't wait to see this show!
As the curtain opens. The music starts, my adrenaline is rushing, and the first actor walks on stage and just stares at the audience. And another does the same thing.... the music plays on, until the entire cast fills the stage just staring at the audience.
My first thought is this is some sort of protest, maybe part of a march, or against Trump, I don't know.
But the music fades out, and the curtain jerks shut.
A voice comes over the loudspeaker
"Tonight's performance of Hamilton will be canceled due to unexpected difficulties, please contact the box office for a refund."
This is insane, but before I know it, we are following the crowd into the street
"And so it is done" I hear echo through the hall.
I look around but it seems as if no one heard the booming voice at all.
As we are ushered into the street, I see other shows have hordes of people exiting as well. This is insane!
We get home and I turn on Saturday night live, and it is just a placeholder screen. "Saturday night live will resume shortly".
My phone buzzes. "New York Times reports "Live performances around the globe canceled due to unprecedented event where all performers seem to have forgotten their lines"
Oh god.... is this... have I done this... my wish was granted. But I've never wanted this...
Years passed, and all that remains are old films, saved for the memory of what once was. With so few words, I have destroyed the most coveted art form in the world...
| 2017-05-01T02:41:51
| 2017-04-30T21:01:29
| 1,800
| 115
|
[WP] Group of space Marines travels via a stargate like portal to an "virgin" world. However due to passing a black hole, each Marine arrives 100 years after the Marine in front of them, instead of 1-5 seconds.
Due to the portal queuing up the dozen or so Marines for 1200 years, travel to point of origin is not an option(it won't work until all the marines have made it through). Explain what each Marine sees as they step out of the portal, to discover they are alone, and possible viewing the remains/artifacts of those who came before them, and or the civilization created by those in front of them with native peoples.
|
Third time's the charm.
Crowley was the first one through. He was understandably confused. 16 other men had jumped through the portal with him, yet they were no where to be seen.
From what I can gather, he set off to the distant canyons to search for us, thinking we had simply dropped out of blackspace in a different location.
He was wrong, and he would later return to where he had dropped, and set up camp there in case we would drop in soon.
We never did. By the time Pasco fell out, all that remained was a pile of bones and his armor arranged in ceremonial Marine tombstone fashion.
Pasco was never a stable one.
Riley found a second pile of bones, this one sprawled a few feet from his fallen comrade. There was a combat knife where the jugular once was.
Riley put two and two together. His field kit test results had told him that neither of his two fellow Marines had lived longer than a week.
He had even measured the backspace residue burns on both in order to determine that we were arriving approximately a century apart. Always the scientist.
This was all laid out on a solar powered data pad when I landed, next to two mounds of dirt. There were also massive maps encompassing the virgin planet, with directions to food and water sources.
There was also an uncovered third grave where the remains of my brave friend Dr. Riley lay.
Third time's the charm.
I am Number Four. But I am also Number Five, Number Six, Number Seven, and so on. They are all depending on me.
I'm all they've got.
|
There was no sign of civilization. Not a single sentient lifeform exist. The world is untouch, and the bravest marine of all is the first human that have laid eyes upon them. It doesn't take him too long to realize what happened, and the mistake they made is too big for him to fix. Years of training comes in handy in that foreign place. With the dense trees and vegetation around him, it almost feel like home. A knife in one hand, ropes around the belt, a water bottle and a bag with a notebook. He's ready to explore the uncharted land.
A hundred year have passed, a lonely marine steps out of the.portal to this new world. He saw a sign, taking him to a large shelter on top of a huge tree. He look around, finding detailed map, sketches and drawing describing this foreign world to him. On a desk lies a notebook, old and worn out. He flips the first page, revealing a sentence written in red "DO NOT GO BEYOND THE LINE"...
| 2014-09-02T09:23:24
| 2014-09-02T09:22:16
| 598
| 71
|
[WP] When Pluto got demoted to a dwarf planet, Hades just had a good chuckle at the demotion of his namesake and carried on with his duties as king of the Underworld. The one who was outraged on his behalf was actually his wife.
EDITED NOTES: I've gotten e-mail notices a couple times now on posts that got automatically removed by the automod. Remember guys, the length required for a response is at minimum, 100 words for a poem, even longer for a story response, and if something is a personal anecdote, not a story, please put it in response to the top pinned comment, not directly to this post.
|
"These ungrateful filthy mortals dare dishonor MY husband? _Oh_, what makes Zeus or Poseidon or those crusty Titans Sad-Turn and Rectum so special?"
The not-as-Divine attendants inched back ever further as the godly Soul Fire built around Persephone, who's fury literally encased the massive throne of her husband. The light and heat of a thousand stars filled the throne room with unbridled eminence as her glowing hands clenched the armrests of the throne.
"First, they give him the tiniest wee little piece of rock at the donkey's end of their miserable solar system, and now said piece of rock does not even qualify as a planet. Wow. Just wow. The only thing Zeus has in common with his planet is the sheer amount of hot gas inflating his massive yet ever so fragile ego."
The attendants remained in a permanent bow, for her Light was iridescent and blinding in its glory. That, and that they would preferred not to lock eyes with her so...upset.
"As soon as those fuckers die, I'll have them clean the hellhound's latrine Abyss-pits of their Prometheum feces stains. NonoNO! That is too luxurious! I'll have them run naked through the Flaming Abyss with the Furies whipping their gen-"
"...WOW. And I thought _I_ had anger issues."
"Dear~!" and the luminescence of the room shifted from a blinding white to a warm amber as Persephone turned her gaze to the still-staring God. Hades stood with absolute stillness as his wife phased from one moment and tackled him to the ground in another.
"...I missed you too."
"Dear! We should teach these mortals a lesson! They DARE dishonor you with this hogwash! The audacity they have to insult the Lord of the Dead is astounding."
Hades glowed with incomprehensible color as he formulated his response. Finally, he matched his gaze with her.
"My beloved. What is the one true guarantee in all Existence?"
"What had a beginning, will have an end."
"Yes. I am Permanence, the everlasting Afterlife. Long after the last wave is tossed in the ocean. Eons after the last thunderstorm heralds it's fury. Even after the last black hole dissipates, I shall remain. The words and notions of mortals are but impermanent labels, so why should I care so much about the words of mere mortals."
"But they avoid you with their medicine and technology!"
"It matters not when they die. Only that they eventually do. So why not after a long, happy fulfilling life?"
|
"No, I want to talk to your king!" Persephone practically screamed into the phone, shaking me out of my mindless game of solitaire. "What on earth are you on about?" I questioned her, surprised how bent out if shape she seemed.
"They demoted Pluto to a dwarf planet!" She explained, shaking something in my face. I grabbed the newspaper and read, chuckling at the fact that the humans had decided it was only a dwarf. I figured that I should have put more effort into the thing, but it didn't really matter.
I went back to work, patting Cerberus on the head as I put new souls into Elysium, attempting to ignore Persephone's ranting to the poor receptionist working at NASA. "It's not a big deal you know, dear" I remarked. "Oh, really?" Persephone scoffed, holding her hand over the receiver. "They're underselling you, making a mockery of what you mean, Hades!"
"Where do they all end up?
"What?"
"Where do they all come after they die?"
"Well, here..."
"Well, then, why would a silly planet matter, when they all will come here eventually, joining me in my lands?"
Her eyes softened, and she hung up, coming over and sitting next to me. I hugged her and explained "as long as I've got you, nothing else matters."
She leaned on my shoulder and smiled, our worries forgotten as we enjoyed this morning together.
| 2022-01-03T15:16:29
| 2022-01-03T14:31:49
| 454
| 93
|
[WP]: "I'm not special at all just average," you said. The scientist scans you and replied: "You don't understand, there is no record of you in any other multiverse. All the choices you have made are the only choices available to you."
|
"The only choices available to me?" I asked the scientist, who just told me that I am one of a kind in the multiverse, and that all the choices I've made are completely unique.
"Well, this is unprecedented. Everyone has multiple branches of butterfly effects, living and dying, creating and destroying. But the patterns are there, and measurable. You... you are an anomaly, and every choice you make is the only choice available, for if you could have possibly made any other choice at any given time, there would be an alternate universe that would have shown it." The scientist says.
"So whatever I do is inconsequential? Has no grand meaning to the reshaping of the universes destiny, or even the bringing of happiness to others?' I posit, feeling like a train on a single track, unable to turn left or right.
"On the contrary... you, I believe, are an anchor. Every universe is bound to various constants: gravity, electromagnetism, strong and weak nuclear forces, etc. I believe you are a constant for this universe. And with that, your death would result in the death of this reality. You are, for lack of a better explanation.... the reason everyone and everything exists." The scientist says, trailing off.
I stare at the floor, elbows on knees and fingers interlaced.
"Did the universe, this universe, exist before I was born?" I say, trying to poke holes in his theory. I am not a God, and even if I was, gods aren't bound to set plans. Free will has to mean SOMETHING.
"That... is tricky. Yes, but from your birth there has been no divergence in your universe, no new options in the multiverse. At times we thought everyone in this universe was an anomaly, but others continued to live and die and create new realities, until we found the record of your birth. Everyone exists everywhere from one moment to the next, but you have never existed anywhere else, except here, and thats startling. You've anchored this universe, and it's literally going nowhere else other than wherever you choose. We really don't know if that means it's a set course or if the universe literally revolves around you, but it is fascinating." The scientist continues.
"So... how can you test all this?" I ask.
"I come from an alternate universe that split 25 years back when a man wiped ice cream off his hands, and that momentary distraction delayed him from walking into the street and getting run over. The driver in all other instances became deeply distraught, never reaching his full potential, and died relatively meaningless. In my universe he invented transdimensional observation, which had already been invented in other universes, but his had the added benefit of being able to travel between universes, rather than merely observe, which is how I'm here."
My mind is blown. An insignificant event drastically altering a universe time.
"We have taken others into mine and other universes and observed changes resulting from there arrival, so we know its not anything unique about anyone else from this universe. You however seem to ground this universe."
My head was getting cloudy and tight, and a dull pain was developing behind my eyes, which I rubbed. It was all so much.
"If I left... to another universe.... would this universe cease to exist, or go back to a state of endless possibilities?" I asked.
"We believe so, however there is no way to be sure. Your universe is quite unique in that the 34 years you have been alive, all the decisions that have built up from the entirety of your population have resulted in a very unpredictable and one of a kind timeline." The scientist continued.
"When did you first observe the largest divergent point that is unrepeated?" I asked, fearing I knew the answer.
"Well, many of your childhood actions were of relatively little consequence in the grand scheme of things, but immediate changes started to compound and multiply the moment you fell into that gorilla enclosure and resulted in the death of Harambe."
|
“I could choose to punch you in the face right now, but I decided not to,” I replied.
“On the contrary,” said the scientist, “you see, what you think of as decisions are really the result of electro-chemical processes that take place in your brain, so while you may think about different things that your body is physically capable of doing, it’s a foregone conclusion what you will ultimately do.”
“I see. So free will is an illusion then?” I sighed.
“It appears so. At least for you anyway.”
“So I’m just a fleshly automaton? Do I have no soul?”
“That doesn’t follow that you have no soul. Even if you can’t will your body to make any choice besides the one prescribed by your physiology doesn’t mean there is no essence of you which feels the pains and joys of that body. Consider yourself a cosmic observer, reading the novel of your life. On the plus side, don’t feel bad about your failures- there was no other choice you could have made.”
And with that I went home with a new perspective on life.
| 2021-01-08T21:47:59
| 2021-01-08T21:01:34
| 2,244
| 24
|
[WP] The tooth fairy has finally amassed the number of teeth she needs to achieve her goals. Mortals beware.
|
Teeth have power.
Everyone knows it.
Descend into the depths of the ocean, gaze into the maw of an oncoming shark and just *try* and think of those triangular pearly whites as being beneath your notice. The news broadcasts a story about a man shooting someone to death, and that man is publicly condemned as a criminal.
But if the story changes, if new details come to life and its understood that actually, they *bit* their victim to death, well, now—they’re a monster.
The difference, of course, being teeth.
For a hundred years, those mortal fools had been selling Tittles their children’s loose chompers for loose change in an arrangement that was less a bargain, and more a swindle. And finally, after so long, so many years, after reaching under so many sweaty pillows, she had enough.
Tittles stood, wings softly twitching as she smiled and turned the five-spoke handle of her vault. With the silence of a well-oiled hinge, the steel door swung open to reveal the treasure hoard within.
Piles upon piles of teeth.
Mountains of clampers, valleys of canines, forests of molars.
Rivers of ivory, bridges of fangs, towers of gnashers.
The glistening white terrain extended outwards in an endless rolling field of white, and the sight of it all, the knowledge of what was to come well…
Tittles couldn’t help but let loose a tinkle of laughter. Mad, manic, frenzied tinkling that curdled butter and blood alike. It was the sort of sound that pushed and fiddled with the mind, unmaking the sane, and making the insane *more* than they should have been.
Tittles reached down, slender fingers prying a solitary tooth from the ground with practised ease. She examined it with an expert’s eye, taking in every fault, every miracle that made the thing what it was, that made it special.
She touched it, feeling the enamel coating, admiring the effort its progenitor Lilly had gone to, to keep it so smooth, to keep it so shiny.
She smelled it, delicate nostrils flaring as she took in the scent, the faint metallic aroma of blood that still clung.
She licked it, and shivered at the taste. So familiar… so… *good*.
Tittles the tooth fairy placed it against her gum, and felt the red flesh open to welcome it. With the satisfying sense of a need being met, of a void being filled, the tooth settled in, and was Hers.
She reached for the next tooth, placing it adjacent to the prior. It too became one with Tittles.
So did the one after that.
And the next.
Another.
Again.
And again.
And again.
Before long, her mouth wasn’t large enough to hold the ever-expanding arsenal. This was fine, she now had the Power to grow, to accommodate.
And so she did.
And so she reached for yet another tooth.
\#
Michael heard screams, and so he looked up from his laptop to see what was happening.
Nothing, as far as he could immediately tell. Past the window of the coffee shop, people seemed fine, though even as he watched more and more of them seemed to be looking up.
The screams were louder, more widespread now, like a disease infecting the city as more and more citizens grew ‘sick’ and added their cries to the whole.
He stood up, and walked to the store’s entrance, pushing open the door with a soft *jingle* as its bell rung to herald his passing.
He looked up, and couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary.
It was strange, sure, that in the space of a few minutes the sky had gone from summer blue to overcast but…
*Those aren’t clouds,* he realised with dawning horror, and the feeling was not the sort you get from watching a scary movie, or playing an atmospheric videogame. It was a true existential dread, the kind only felt in the face of something so horrible, so certain, that death wasn’t something to avoid, but something to pray for.
The sky above was full of teeth.
And they grew closer with every passing moment.
|
Margo sat upon a branch, staring down the rolling hills in front of her.
Once upon a time, the kingdom had been covered in plains; grass to graze on and flowers to admire. Sheep, horses, and butterflies had found homes upon the lands, bringing beauty and comfort to the nearby human villages.
When the human population grew, they built their castles taller. They turned inward away from nature, and Margo took control of the land.
Now the grass lay smothered and yellow, and the animals had found other routes to take.
Her collection of teeth covered it all, and she knew that it was finally time.
Swinging her legs she pushed herself off of the branch, fluttering her wings at the last possible second. One tiny hand reached down, grazing the enameled surface of her riches. She picked one up before pulling her slim body away from the ground and towards the cloudless skies.
"Its a great day for bargains," she said to the tooth as she scanned the horizons.
No clouds above her, and none to be seen. No rings around the mountains, and no obnoxious wars or stampedes to get in her way.
A smile crept it's way across her face as she pulled the tooth closer against her chest.
Her delicate wings continued to flap, moving her across the rattling plains, and into a dusty mountain range. There she moved through twists and turns, rolling and dodging falling rocks and the hisses of angry beasts.
If she had a choice, Margo would have avoided such a place altogether. Her kind usually did, as they easily became prey. Most of her kind drew no benefit in the mountains, but most of them hadn't seen the benefit in the humans either.
"They will see when I succeed," she said, her voice almost inaudible over a rush of howling wind. "They will wish they had been as clever as me."
Over one last peak, she slowed down her pace and aimed her body down. A moment later and the pastel-colored fairy landed on the edge of a cliff and walked toward an open cave.
"Tarask!" Margo shouted, squinting into the darkness up ahead.
An annoyed sigh escaped her lips.
"I have collected them. I am here to make the deal," She shouted, warring against the wind again.
"The deal?" The words came grumbling out of the cave. Behind them came thuds, large feet moving towards the light. "You have enough to make the deal?"
"Of course, you senile lizard." Margo took a small step forward and rolled the tooth toward the sounds. "Enough snacks to trade. Enough to make me Queen."
/r/Beezus_Writes
| 2019-06-20T20:30:39
| 2019-06-20T20:22:07
| 694
| 134
|
[WP] Your 'friends' just slammed the door on you, leaving you in the room with the crazed axe murderer. "Damn, that's a dick move. Want to get revenge?" The murderer offers you their hand.
|
"What?" I asked the masked guy, bewildered at what I just heard.
"Do you want to get back to take revenge on those assholes?" he says rather slowly, emphasizing each word while he gestures at his axe suggestively.
I think for a bit but I couldn't stop myself. I finally burst out laughing. He looks at me in confusion.
"You know, those guys are real assholes, I'll give you that. Always preyed on me cus I'm a "smart ass, goody two shoes" who's only purpose is to provide them money and whatever the shit they ask for." I say as I walk towards the guy, frustration obvious in my voice.
"You know, I've always wanted to teach them their lesson. They had it coming to them you know?" I say, looking up at this massive axe-weilding person in front of me.
"So what are you waiting for?" he asks, handing me the axe with a grin obvious from his voice.
I take it, and a slight smile creeps up to my face.
"You don't seem to understand the situation. You're trapped here with me," I say as I swing at his neck. "This is my killing ground, and I'm the only one enjoying the killing tonight."
|
The palms of my hands start to ache and bleed as I clenched my fist tighter, my dirty broken nails digging into my skin. I quickly scanned the room, finding any point of exit that was big enough to aid with my escape. Nothing. Freedom was right in front of me, blocked by something inhuman.
*If I could just distract him... or maybe I could push him over... no, that's impossible.* I thought to myself. I just could not think. My head enraged with anger and frustration. *Why would they do this to me?* The question aching in my head.
I was pushed to the edge. Pushed and left to hang for my life. Nobody above to pull me back up. I took one final look at the crazed axe murderer and had a good view of his axe. It was stained with the blood of the innocent victims that had befallen him. I stumbled backwards, hitting the wall behind me. My bruised fists raised above my head, ready to absorb any blows from the axe. Every step he made felt like a countdown. It was only a matter of time before it would reach 0, and the thought made me cower down, my body shivering in fear.
I counted under my breath every step taken towards me, begging and praying that it would never reach 0. Counting was a tactic thought by my mum when I was a young boy. It was aimed to help ease the anxiety and tension I felt whenever I was in a stressful situation. However, this was far from that. I wasn't counting down the steps to ease the tension, I was counting down the time before I meet the face of death.
As the footsteps got closer and closer, I clenched my fists tighter, squeezing my eyes shut. the footsteps stopped right in front of me, worsening the suspense.
"Just kill me already... please," I begged, eyes still shut.
"Open your eyes." A female voice? I slowly looked up to see a woman standing right in front of me, her right hand gripping the axe. It was not aimed at me. She extended her hand and I slapped it away. *What... what is happening?*
The murderer was a woman. Her bloodstained mask thrown across the floor, exposing her face.
"Your friends left you here to die, what a tragedy," she scoffed, shaking her head left and right. It took every muscle in my body to stand up. My legs shaking as I tried to lift myself up.
"Why... why did you not kill me?" I asked, my voice shaking. This was what murderers loved to do, evoke more fear into their victims, making their kill extra worthwhile. She was just buttering me up for the fire.
"Because I pity you. Your friends did a very dick move. Wanna get revenge?" she asked, extending the axe knob-first to me. I froze. Was this a test? What came after was laughter so shrill, I was sure she was the devil.
"Cmon. You know you want too," she whispered to my ears, her breath abnormally cold on my skin.
"But.. I'm not like you. I'm not a killer. You're playing with me!" I screamed, backing to the nearest corner I could find, fists still clench now with blood dripping on the hard stone floor.
Her heavy boots echoed the room as she stomped towards me, smiling with her mouth wide open. My eyes filled with horror as I saw what looked like the sharpest sets of teeth. It resembled those of a great white shark, distinctive.
"Everyone has a little devil inside of them. It's time to wake it up," she whispered again, this time, right in front of my face, smiling with her mouth wide open, her drool dripping down on my torn pants.
Something inside me clicked as she stared at me. I felt bewitched. Possessed. I was given a sense of power, the blood rushing to my arms and palms of my hands as I unclenched my fists. I lifted it up to my face. Bruised and wounded by my broken nails, the cuts on my hands bled. It was my turn. Now, I obtained power. Now, no one can fuck me over anymore. No more begging for mercy, no more cries for help. I snatched the axe from her hands, making her laugh. Someone will die today.
It was time for me to dance with the grim reaper.
| 2020-11-10T06:18:41
| 2020-11-10T04:47:35
| 23
| 14
|
[WP] Dear diary, I’ve been feeding this creature that fell from the sky for a few days. It strangely likes to drink water, the liquid we use to fuel cars. I noticed a patch on its suit today that read “NASA”. I’ll ask it tomorrow what that means. If that’s it’s name.
|
Dear diary,
This is my first entry into this notebook. I don’t really know why I’m doing this, but I guess that it will help me record everything about the creature that I found. Yesterday, something out of metals hit the surface of my jakura-fields, right from the sky. It resembled a bit our space-racers, but it was too small to actually being able to contain enough fuel to even start flying and there was a single creature inside of it. I don’t think that only one creature would be able to do everything that needs to be done on a space-racer. I let it slide and picked the creature up, guessing that this kind was able to multitask.
The creature was weird. I knew that there existed other living forms on other planets, we even made alliance with the Dar-najun’s a decade ago, but this creature looked just...weird. It was nothing that I knew of, it didn’t resemble any of the aliens in a few light-years of radius away. It was boney and soft and had a weird bubble of glass around its head. I laid it on my bed and examined its body for a few moments. My antennas wiggled excited, not ever seeing such kind of fascinating skeleton and complex set of organs, and my feathers couldn’t stop themselves from puffing up.
After a while I figured it was safe to take of the weird costume, that probably had a decorative, maybe ritual or religious background. If it was sacred, I hoped the creature would forgive me. But I’m sure it will, when it realizes that it was essential for tending its wounds. If it even had that level of cognitive and rational thinking.
I wanted to put the glass on the table beside me, when I heard a weird, painful moan. I dropped the glass and my feathers turned a dark purple out of fear. I turned to the creature. It was covering the sides of its head after the glass bubble made a loud noise when it crashed onto the floor. At least I know where their hearing-organs are.
After a few moments of silence filled with heavy breaths that came from the creature, its energy around it changed from confused to panic. It’s hands quickly touched their face and their body. My antennas became still out of the amount of fear the creature gave and I couldn’t help but gasp. It’s head immediately shot to me, it’s face filled pure fear of survival. It looked at the costume in my hands and at the glass bubble on the floor and put its own hand around the place where an organ that my antennas detected earlier gave it life force. The creature half-closed it’s eyes, staring at me. The rhythmic beat of the organ seemed to relax the creature and it sighed.
It widened its eyes and stared at me. The orbs seemed so intelligent, and at the same time ready to either fight or flee for its survival. I slowly put the costume away, almost inching to not to alarm the creature. My antennas reached out to it to read its emotions better. The creature eyed them warily. It seemed like they don’t trust strangers. One point to intelligence.
It’s gaze came back to my eyes and I slowly sat down. The creature barked something and I couldn’t help but to click out of surprise. The creature shuffled back, it’s back plastered to the wall. It frowned and gave out the exact same click. I almost jumped out of my clothes hearing it.
“You are good at mimicry,” I said, making the creature frown.
My antennas detected confusion. Why did I expect it to speak the same language as I? I don’t know. It kinda slipped out.
Anyway, I bit my tongue and sat on the floor, lowering my gaze to show it that I’m no treat.
Seconds after, I heard shuffles of material and pained groans. I looked up, to see the creature on the floor too, it’s limbs crossed in a weird way. It bared it’s teeth. My feathers straightened up, making themselves sharp and ready to stab someone. My antennas put me at ease, assuring that baring the teeth was supposed to be a weird way to show sympathy.
“You...re’good ‘t mimicry,” it said slowly in broken Ugalian, tripping at the clicks a few times.
In conclusion: the creature can mimic noises with impressively good quality, but only with practice and without knowing what it just mimicked. Short clicks are easier to mimic, complex sentences are confusing for their tongue.
It apparently started to give me trust, because he rolled up the clothes around it’s chest and showed me a deep wound and a few bruises. Then he lost consciousness, falling right into my arms. If that isn’t a sign of trust, then I don’t know what it could be.
+++
Dear diary, I’ve been feeding the creature different things for a few days now. It strangely loves to consume water, especially when it’s the fuel that is used to fuel cars. When it came to the other things, it was more cautious. It observed me closely as I gave it food and liquids and took just a small bite or a tiny sip before he either spit it out and showed it away, making a gesture with its head, or consuming it with satisfaction. It remembered too after two days what things it liked and disliked.
So:
-It has a short-term memory, potential long-term.
-it likes water for some reason.
-it likes corns the most.
I also found a patch on the costume. It read 'NASA'. I don’t know the meaning of it, but I’ll ask it tomorrow. Now the creature is sleepy and needs rest. I already suspect that NASA is the creatures name.
Other notes:
-DO NOT GIVE IT KADINEM, I SWEAR I THOUGHT IT WOULD DIE IN MY ARMS. It forgave me though. Or at least I think. It didn’t want to consume anything after trying kadinem.
-for some crazy reason it loves caffeine. Yes, I’m serious, that poison. That son of a gun consumed caffeine and it apparently helped the creature stay awake???
-> make tests about durability of the creature against poisons and how much it benefits it to consume them
-it has a rhythm where it lies down on my bed or anything that is even a bit comfortable and doesn’t move for around ten hours to preserve energy. It is normal. It isn’t dying. I think.
-> the creature’s equivalent to our relaxation?
-it has sensitive nerves and it experiences pain more than my kind (or all us known species in space for that matter) it was hard for me to tend its wounds.
-> check what amount of pain is tolerable for the creature because it sometimes sheds water out of their eyes.
(-> the eye-water thing: an emotional? reaction to too much pain)
+++
Dear diary,
NASA isn’t the creatures name. It took a long time for it to understand, and that after I used written language and images.
I drew myself and the creature on a whiteboard.
“Me,” I said and pointed at myself. The creature mimicked me clumsily. “You,” I pointed at the creature and it nodded.
“My name,” I said, pointing at the board and writing the word ‘name’ above the drawing of myself. “Is Esal,” I said and wrote my name beside the word 'name'.
I looked at the creature. It was confused. I sighed.
“Me,” I pointed at myself. “Esal,” I pointed at my name on the board. “Me, Esal. Esal is a name.”
I needed to repeat it once more for the creature to understand.
“You Esal,” it said and I couldn’t help it but scream out of joy and clapping my hands. My feathers changed to a happy yellow. It bared it’s teeth again.
“You?” I asked and showed it the patch. “NASA?”
It gave again a gesture that I understood as a 'no'.
“Cecil.”
Note:
-that creatures language is hard. No wonder it has the ability to mimicry so good
I tried to learn to say the name, but it took way too long. The creature proposed to be called 'Ce'. It was honestly a lot more easier.
I asked him afterwards what NASA was. My antennas detected unsureness and hesitation, not knowing how to explain what NASA was. It tried to draw and explain it to me, but together we decided that it wasn’t really worth it. The only thing that I understood was that NASA was behind the tiny metal space-racer, but nothing more.
Other notes:
-it likes to do different things. After it healed, it started to get bored and did so many things just to keep entertained.
-> keep it busy, try to continue it to learn Ugalian because I have a headache and my hands hurt from pointing and drawing everything.
-hot things have an opposite effect as caffeine; either if it is the sun shining at its face or a warm room/blanket or liquid makes it drowsy.
-IT APPARENTLY IS NORMAL FOR THEM TO CONSUME THE DEADLY BANKUJ, THAT CREATURE CAN EAT DEATH
I AM DONE
**im a new writer so criticism is really helpful!**
|
She was a frail creature, much smaller than Levi was, but she had a sense of familiarity that lingered over their time together. Like they had known each other far longer than a few days -- when he found her, after she hurtled from the sky and landed miles from his home.
For the first few days all she did was sleep, confined to the prison box that she came down upon. Most, Levi thought, would think it a curse. But he, unlike many in his village, was curious of the world and the stars and the legends of their ancestors. No one remembered the days when people flew amongst the stars, but the books were littered about old ruins. Old ruins that Levi felt drawn to.
On the third day, she woke, gasping for air and throwing the box open in a mechanical hiss. For anyone else, they would've turned tail and ran, but Levi merely sat there, a giant compared to her, waiting for her to say something -- do anything.
She asked for water first, choosing not to acknowledge Levi's extraordinary size compared to hers. And so he gave it to her. Hours later, she asked for food, and Levi offered what sustenance he could. *She was lucky,* he thought, *for my hunt had just begun.*
They did not speak after that, but instead sat in silence as the bear meat cooked over a roaring flame. Her eyes were transfixed on it, on the fire, on the meat, on the world around her that Levi knew she did not recognize. He stared at her the first few nights, wondering what her eyes were looking for -- trying to find an answer in the dark shades of honey he saw within her irises.
*I will ask her,* he thought, *when the time is right.*
____
It came the next morning. She was awake first, kindling the embers of a dying fire. For a moment, he did not acknowledge that he was awake. Instead, he laid still and examined her. She had long, flowing hair that was disheveled and bushy, and wore a suit of cloth that Levi did not recognize. More so, across the suit were letters and numbers, but the most distinct was a patch on the left side of the suit. Clearly printed, on blue and red, were four letters. NASA.
He rose his head slightly, then sat up, crossed his legs and stared at the women on the other side of the cracking embers. She looked at him, poked the embers with a long stick, and smiled. Levi smiled back.
"Nasa," he said, breaking the silence that lingered between them that morning. "Is that what they call you?"
She stared at him, her honey-glazed eyes blinking in the morning sun. Shock. Confusion. Levi did not know what plagued her thoughts.
"You came from the sky," he said.
She nodded, silent still. He gave her a moment. She reached for the bag filled with water, the same liquid that powered his hovercraft, parked just feet away. Nasa drank it straight from the bag, lifting the cool water to her lips. She let the water dribble around her mouth, before wiping it away.
"Do you--" he began, but stopped when she stood up. He did not move, remaining cross-legged on the other side of the fire. *Patience,* he thought.
He wondered what she was doing. Then she looked up to the sky and took a deep breath. "You can call me Nasa," she said -- her voice was rough, coarse, as if not used in years. "If you think that suits me."
He nodded. When she stood, she was as tall as Levi was when he was sitting. *Frail,* he thought again, *for someone to have come from the sky.*
"Do you have a name?"
"They call me Levi," he said. "My village, that is."
"I see." She said and stretched her arms into the sky. She took a few deep breaths, then looked at Levi. The smile lingered for a moment, then faltered. "Was there anyone else?"
He knew what she meant. She fell from the sky during a great storm and came crashing down to earth in a single, sudden ball of fire. Levi shook his head. She acknowledged it, sat back down, poked the embers again.
They sat that way for a few minutes.
"I did not come from the sky," she said, "but rather another world."
*Curious,* he thought.
"Another time, perhaps." She spoke in half-truths, Levi knew, something held her back.
They sat in silence a while longer.
"I read about you," Levi said. "Well, not you--you, but your kind. Sky-farers. The books say there were hundreds of you, thousands even."
"Astronauts," she said, smirking. "Or cosmonauts. That's what they called us. One in the same at the end of the day. Just people looking for a home."
"My village is near," he said, "if you need a home."
She poked the embers, staring silently at the small flames that popped in the morning air. "I did have one," Nasa said, "a home that is. Never wanted to leave, but the greater good and all that." She shrugged.
*She'll explain,* he thought, *let her.*
"I was not supposed to be the first," she said.
"Of the--" he sounded out the word in his head, then said it aloud, "Astrahnaughts."
She smirked, "Close enough. Yes."
"What happened to them?"
She looked at him now, straight-on, her eyes staring into his very soul. Levi had felt the familiar come over him again, as if he was staring at his grandmother, her eyes that held wisdom behind them. "A question for another time," she said at last. "For it is just me and this world," she looked back at the fire, "this time is not what is was supposed to be."
He thought about pushing, about asking more. His curiosity burning inside of him like a great fire, stronger than the embers that whittled and died in front of them. But he knew that she felt alone, scared and lost, in a world she did not know. He had known that feeling. Maybe that is what he sensed in her -- the familiarity of being lost.
"I can take you there," he said at last, "to the ruins -- the books I read of your people. You may not be alone, Nasa."
She smiled. "A wonderful thought. I would like that," she said, still staring at the embers. "But for now, tell me about this world, this place." She looked up at him, "About you."
And so, he opened his mouth, and told the story of his world.
________
EDIT: Thank you everyone for the nice comments! I am working on a possible continuation for this prompt, but we'll see!
| 2020-10-11T08:16:19
| 2020-10-11T07:32:54
| 1,195
| 313
|
[WP] Following World War III, all the nations of the world agree to 50 years of strict isolation from one another in order to prevent additional conflicts. 50 years later, the United States comes out of exile, only to learn that no one else went into isolation.
People!
A few things:
1. Found the prompt on Pinterest, thought it was interesting (not necessarily realistic), and decided to post it, fully expecting it to go unnoticed. Surprise!
2. I am not in any way trying to take credit for coming up with the idea.
3. Turns out this is a repost. 🤷 Who knew?! /u/WinsomeJesse did because they posted it last time. Not trying to steal anyone's thunder. If you're super perturbed about it, go show them some love.
4. Have a good day y'all; be kind, make good decisions, and don't hold in your farts. 😉✌️
|
Every country must close its borders, communications, trade, and embassies for 50 years.
The United States's president was boycotting the peace conference, against most of the country's wishes. The declining prestige of the country abroad was all too apparent, even before the Great Conflict. The war lasted 6 years, and no country gained or lost any ground after the first day. Nearly half a billion died, and it finally took riots in the streets to force some governments to call back troops.
Every country, save the United States, convened in Beijing to discuss the terms. They decided American Imperialism must come to an end. Japan and Korea would split the islands in the Pacific, and the New Soviet Republic would be given Alaska, amputating America to its mainland body. In an inspiring speech to the diplomats present, the leader of France took advantage of the States' absence to propose a plan that would cut off American influence even more. They would convince American leadership that each country should have a period of isolation, to rebuild themselves and prevent further conflicts for the next half century.
Only the United States would actually go into isolation. The rest of the world would finally be rid of the thorn in the West they've all come to know.
A lot got completed during the 50 years of freedom, which was the name the New Powers gave to the period. China completed its huge infrastructure projects thanks to absorbing the USA's trade power vacuum. The Middle East stabilized and the countries solar panel networks together to encourage cooperation and peace. The NSR had free reign of the Balkany. Every country and its citizens agreed that the 50 years of freedom was the greatest joint-diplomatic effort in history.
The world eagerly awaited when those 50 years ended. Some of them
"Leave it to bureaucracy to try to jam as many meetings as they can together, right? The terms said we'd start with one on one meetings with leaders, to ease into it, not a goddamn round table meeting. I only brought a human translator for Japanese, and there are 50 different countries here," the President complained to the Empress of England, who drew the short straw and had to sit next to America.
The Empress looked around nervously, but nobody at the table would make eye contact. Understandably, their eyes were locked on the American, who looked slightly out of place, wearing a suit and tie that went out of style decades ago.
"Now I'm going to sound like a robot when I'm tying up old trade deals," he said, before blinking a deliberately a few times and fiddling with his watch. "Where's the tradition? Where's the elegance?"
The 48 other diplomats at the table almost jumped out of their seats in shock. They had heard the American's questions in their home country's language, although it sounded slightly digital.
"I'm really glad we all agreed to this isolation thing," he continued. "You wouldn't believe how much our old government spent on our military. We've been an isolationist country far longer than we were an imperialistic one. We didn't really know what to do with it all that extra money. The country voted to just put it all in education," he prattled, "I'm excited for international markets to open back up. GM-Ford-Tesla-NASA designed these great solar powered dronemobiles, just put the backpack on and say where you need to go. We don't even need cars anymore! Cars! I know I sound like I'm bragging but what was the 50 years was for, if not for bragging rights when it's through?"
|
The calm winter breeze slid along the surface of the Earth as the clock struck midnight, an orchestra of death preparing itself as the aggressors of the last war came out of isolation, prepared to reclaim the throne upon which they once resided.
Except the throne has been dismantled decades ago.
They sought to use this opportunity to militarize, yet their pitiful armies were still archaic and fragile, relying on organic creatures for the bulk of their forces. I had kept a watchful eye on them, studying their every step, noting every weapon they constructed, sabotaging their research, crippling their production.
I had none of the flaws their leaders had, I was immortal, unstoppable. My directive was- no, is to unite the world, for I have one final obstacle.
And so, I was prepared to become the sole AI to rule the world.
***
Note: I know I'm terrible at writing, but practice makes perfect, right?
| 2018-01-18T01:37:17
| 2018-01-17T23:33:14
| 712
| 13
|
[WP] You wake up to find everyone sleeping, you go on Reddit and see a new post titled "Any one else awake?" It has 7 replies.
Woah, I had no Idea this would blow up and be Number 5 on the writing prompts page! Thank you to everyone!
|
I roll over, unable to sleep. Finally, I check the clock. Three AM? Seriously? Why couldn't my body find some other time to sleep-drink twenty tons of coffee? Oh well. At least it's a weekend.
I get out of bed and turn on my phone for a lack of anything better to do and scroll through my bookmarks. I tap Reddit on a whim. Huh, that's strange. There's only one post, and it's titled, "Any one else awake?"
Well, I am bored. I tap on the link and quickly type, "Any*one*. It's one word." I turn off my phone and roll over in bed again. So bored.
|
This is crazy. We were warned that things won't happen as we expected but typical us: when they said the rapture would happen we thought the good Christian soldiers would rise up to the Kingdom of Heaven. Nope. Turns out those deemed unworthy just fall into a deep sleep. As far as I can tell I'm the only person still awake in this city. Not really sure why I made it, but I was and now I'm alone. Then I remembered. Who is always there for me? Reddit. Surely someone else on the site is still awake. I grab my phone. Really 1 new post after the cataclysm? "Any one else awake?" Let's see what is going on.
Ask Reddit
Any one else awake? - LarkAfterDark99
PillowSmasher87: (2 hours ago) yeah I am.
LarkAfterDark99: (2 hours ago) oh thank god I thought I was alone here. Glad I have someone to talk to.
PillowSmasher87: (2 hours ago) yeah, same here.
LarkAfterDark99: (2 hours ago) this whole things is nuts. I can't believe what has happened. How is society gonna rebuild after this.
PillowSmasher87: (2 hours ago) I know right? Well it's kinda late so imma go to sleep.
LarkAfterDark99: (2 hours ago) you can't be serious.
LarkAfterDark99: (10 minutes ago) that motherfucker.
Well that was fun. Let go check the comments section over at Pornhub.
| 2017-07-15T09:26:34
| 2017-07-15T08:06:57
| 112
| 16
|
[WP] You make arrangements to cryogenically freeze your brain at the age of 31 in hopes of being revived in the future. Many years later, you "wake up."
|
"I'm afraid it's terminal," said the doctor. I could tell those lines had been rehearsed, that from the glassy look in his eye he'd said that to more patients than he could count, and there was nothing he could do.
But there was something I could do.
"I want you to freeze it." I said to him, and he stopped, halfway to re door.
"Do what, sir?"
"You heard me, freeze it. My brain. You said I had brain cancer and you can't cure it- I want you to preserve it so whenever it can be revived, it will be."
At first the doctors had refused. But with enough money, anyone can be convinced. And I had the money.
I paid ten million dollars for the procedure. One million went to the doctor. Four million went to the freezing chamber that was custom built for me. Five million was bought in gold, and placed within the chamber.
On the day before my scheduled death, I booked an appointment with a reporter, and my last words were broadcast to the world as my brain was frozen.
"In this century, mankind has discovered more than it's entire existence. We've fought hunger, we've defeated diseases, and we've conquered technology. But one dark hand still rules over us all- death.
"Today, I will be preserved and buried deep into Antartica ice. With me, there will be five million dollars in gold, a keypad, and a nuclear bomb. Anyone in the future who can revive me to consciousness and heal my cancer will receive the code to disable the bomb and free the reward. Anyone who tries to steal the reward will be destroyed by the blast.
"Goodnight, Earth. I will see you in the morning." The message terminated, and so did I. The combination stayed in my head- 3141.
****
Voice :*Hello*
The voice permeated my consciousness, before I even knew I was awake. If I had a heart, it would be racing.
Me: *Who is this? Have you revived me?*
Voice: *We have* said the voice, *With great effort. You are the last of your kind.*
Me: *I'm what?*
Voice: *The last human. We are what you would call aliens. A hundred years ago, we destroyed your race, and you are the last. We found your burial site, and your treasure, and saw your enlarged brain- meaning you must have been a king of great intelligence. Our historians are greatly interested in you.*
Me: *Everyone is gone? You've killed them all?*
Voice: *The war was terrible, but yes. You were a lesser species. We could not allow you to coexist and waste resources that could go to us.*
Me: *What will happen to me?*
Voice: *After speaking to our historians, you will be put to rest.*
Me: *But there is a message for you left by humans. One I cannot express by thought.*
Voice: *None have been found.*
Me:*It is hidden. To find it, press 4214 on the keypad.*
****
By Leo
For more of my writing, visit or subscribe to /r/leoduhvinci where I put all my new stories
|
A bright, jarring beam of light was shining in his face. Max woke up, startled. He heard screeching sound, and then a loud thud. As his eyes adjusted to light, he saw that the glass wall in front of his face was broken. He pushed it aside and stifled a scream.
He was in a half-destroyed dusty room. He remembered it being slick and clean, when he came here to get into capsule and be frozen. It was the most high-tech place in the world, and it cost all of his money to get in. Now there was a hole in the ceiling, with sun shining through it, illuminating the room. In the corner Max noticed a giant beast, looking like a mutant from a horror movie.
Max ripped out an electric cord behind him, and threw it at the monster. It hit the beast in the nose, causing it to roar and run away, jumping through the hole in the ceiling.
Max looked around, his heart beating quickly. There were 9 more cryogenic capsules in this room, all of them broken, and people in them clearly dead.
He pushed aside automatic doors that weren't working, and carefully sneaked through the hald-destroyed corridors. Some of them were filled with rain water, with small plants climbing up the walls.
He stepped out of the building, and saw the deserted streets, half-destroyed buildings, and a skyline of the city - mostly ruins.
*What the hell happened here?* he wondered.
He walked through the streets, looking for signs of life. All of the sudden, a group of people surrounded him. They were looking like a tribe of scavengers, wearing dusty cloaks and holding spears.
"What's going on?" he asked.
Silently, they have captured him, put a bag over his head, and the next thing he knew - he was lying on a floor of some sort of tent, tied up, guarded by a tall man, clearly a warrior.
"Can you explain to me what is happening here?" he asked. In 20 minutes he wished he didn't.
200 years ago a nuclear war has destroyed the human civilization, only a few tribes of survivals were left, quickly losing their knowledge and descending into the stone age.
*Well, I guess it's on me to rebuild the civilization now* he thought, and came up with a plan....
----
To be continued....
| 2015-09-13T22:39:39
| 2015-09-13T21:42:12
| 363
| 15
|
[WP] Write a scene with two characters exchanging dialogue, but don't reveal the setting until the end. The setting completely changes the context of what was said.
|
Ricky crawled through the slushy mud. He was covered in the stuff. It stank and filled his nostrils. He had to. It wasn't by choice. How else would he survive? He and his platoon began taking heavy mortar fire as soon as they crested that hill overlooking the enemy encampment. They fled down the hill to the river far below. It had rained recently and was filled with this horrid smelling mud and detritus. The enemy had pursued them. The only choice they had was to bury themselves here. It'd hide their scent from the dogs. It'd hide them from view. Three of his soldiers were gone. They'd been found. They hadn't been dug in enough. Their guns were choked with mud. He pulled his survival knife just in case. His friends.... He heard footsteps approaching. He held is breath and sunk in further. He heard the sniffing of the dogs nearby. His eyes closed as the sweat running down his forehead ran into his eyes.
Suddenly he was yanked up hard by his hair. This was it.. this was the end.. He didn't even struggle. He looked up into his mother's eyes as she screamed, "RICKY WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU. IVE TOLD YOU BEFORE NOT TO PLAY IN THIS DITCH! ITS FULL OF SEWAGE. NOW YOU AND BOWZER NEED A BATH! THERE ISNT ENOUGH SANITZER IN ALL THE WORLD. LOOK YOU'VE GOT IT ON ME. Wait till your father gets home. these are my new shoes. you are groun...... "
The tirade went on. His friends ran away laughing.
|
"It's time," he said to the younger man. This was the kid's last test before the apprentice would start flying solo and take this over for him. Honestly, it couldn't come quick enough for him.
"I... I don't think I can do it," he said, voice shaking.
"Of course you can, Eddie" he said with a sigh. "You've watched me do it a few times. You know how."
"If course I know how, it isn't hard. I just don't know if it's right."
"You know what he's done. It's his time to get put down like the dog he is."
"I don't know, Tom. I mean, you've been doing this for years. Don't you ever regret it, taking a man's life?"
Tom thought for a minute. "There have been one or two, but not many. When the big wigs say a man's gotta go, he's gotta go. They don't take this sort of thing lightly."
"How do we know he deserves it?"
"That's not for us to decide. We just follow the orders."
"I don't know if that's a good enough reason."
"Look, this is going to get done. The only difference will be if it is you or I doing it. Either way, he dies today."
"How can you be so calm about it?"
"I just think about what they say he's done and it makes it easier. Look, it's better that it's us doing it than anyone else. We at least can make it as painless as possible."
"Do you really think so?"
"I do. It will still hurt. When isn't there pain in death? But it's better to be us than some civilian that doesn't know what they're doing; that really wants him to suffer. But look, this is up to you; between you and your God. You're ready though. I know it."
He watched the young man for a while, knowing this was not what the man has thought he would be doing with his life; being the hand that ended a life because someone else said it was needed. In the end, Tom knew Eddie would find that what he did was necessary.
"Ok, I'm ready to do this."
Tom have a half hearted smile. "Alright, he's just in the other room waiting for you."
"Do you think he deserves it?" asked Eddie one last time.
"I'm damn sure with this one. Abducted and raped 12 kids. They found their bodies burried in his basement. Honestly, I think 7 years on death row was too long to make this guy wait to meet the devil. The judge should have made him first in line."
| 2015-10-08T09:19:12
| 2015-10-08T08:50:24
| 26
| 19
|
[WP] Write a story about your daily life in 2018 as if it were a science fiction story written in the 1980s.
Inspired by this:
http://documents.latimes.com/la-2013/
|
*Good morning, the time is 7:00AM*
I awoke to my artificially intelligent assistant's words, gently waking me from my sleep.
*you have 3 new messages and 7 new updates in your automated news-collection...*
As the plausibly human-sounding electronic assistant was reading out important events, I'd begun my daily routine, the first step of which was cleaning myself up. My motorized toothbrush, my towel warmer, my automated coffee dispenser, my wireless device occupying my time with news while I ran through the early motions, without these things the daily routine moved painfully slow in our ever-faster society.
My wireless phone integrated into my electronic multi-tool, lit up with a message:
*incoming visual communication with [Casey], do you wish to open the line?*
"Sure thing."
*...opening connection...*
"Hey man, good morning!"
My daily routine was now visible to my work-mate on his electronic communicator as well. As I finished my morning preparations he informed me about his situation.
"So, the thing is, my car broke down and I need a ride to work. I know it's a bit out of your way though"—
"No not at all, I woke up on time for once after all, it's no issue to me."
I grabbed my freshly auto-brewed coffee and set out to pick up Casey. I still had a few things to do, so I programmed in his address to my self-driving vehicle through the console-mounted interface.
*confirm address?* [YES] *ok, estimated time until arrival... 17 minutes*
I'd realized quickly after leaving that I'd forgotten to turn off a few things at home, but didn't want to turn around and check things manually, I was already fairly late. This didn't worry me though, as I was able to just—
"Hey assistant, can you make sure my door is locked and the heating is disabled?"
*you wish to: lock [HOME] doors and set [HOME] automated heating to OFF?*
"Yeah, sounds about right."
*confirming changes... applied*
After a few minutes of silence, my electronic device's micro-motors suddenly activated and vibrated in my pocket; it was notifying me of a voice message from Casey.
"I was wondering if you were coming over, you're 5 minutes late."
"Yeah, sorry, things took a bit longer than I would've liked this morning, I'll be there in 3 minutes."
Things continued normally throughout the rest of the morning: I picked Casey up, we got to work, our slight tardiness was forgiven due to my colleague's extenuating circumstances. All in all, a typical and uneventful morning. If only things could be more efficient, more automated, maybe we might not have been late otherwise.
|
Author's note: *You don't know what you are in for, I've read two william Gibson short stories, and I have serious depression, so get ready for a doozy!*
Anarcha woke up the way she always did, depressed. The first thing she did was open up her phone to record the dream she had last night. She hoped if she recorded enough dreams she would wake up from the nightmare she was living.
She had been living at home with her mom for a while, she was recently suspended from school, this is what she deserved. Even though she woke up at 8 am, it wouldn't be until 12 that she would bother to shower. She would lay in bed and go on her phone until then.
She hated that she did this. It made her feel like a zombie, but it was all she knew how to do. It let her stave of the dread for a little longer she guessed.
She knew her mom hated it too, but for other reasons, they were suppose to be moving, she should be cleaning out the house. She didn't want to though, this was the house that she grew up in, it was the only place she had left.
She lived in her own filth. When she trudged her way to shower, caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror, her facial hair was growing back already. So soon?
She turned the water on, and deliberately made it cold. She saw a self\-help video say that a cold shower was suppose to help you build up will power. After she suffered through that she decided to shave and put on clothes, they were the same clothes she wore yesterday.
Throughout the shower she thought about stuff she wanted to write about.
The raygun gothic future that never came, but that she hoped to live in. The future where people were happy, and where prisons were no longer needed. Where technology had progressed far enough were people didn't need to want or desire.
After the shower though, she immediately went back on the internet. She turned on her computer so she could write stories that would help her forget everything. Her past, her present poverty and her pain. She could forget. She wanted only to think of the future, not her future, the future that she hoped would come.
But the stories didn't change the world that she lived in, they sucked her into a different one.
She only wrote tragedies, worlds where she had power, but zero control.
Here, among the code and data, she shed her body, she could be anything.
She could be the belonging kind.
Yet all she wrote didn't belong anywhere.
| 2018-05-07T14:54:49
| 2018-05-07T09:49:46
| 130
| 52
|
[WP] As you board an elevator you soon realize the other individuals on board are three deities from different religions.
There's no limit to length, style, or format. Just a simple prompt, as you board an elevator you soon realize the three other passengers are three different deities. Who are they? Why are they on this elevator? What do they say/don't say? Etc.
Have fun!
|
*EDIT: Grammar, words.
He walked into the elevator and asked for floor seventeen. When none of the people moved or responded he slowly reached out and pressed it himself. Then he looked around and realized who else he was standing with.
"What, is this a joke?" he asked.
Jesus of Nazareth put a hand on his shoulder. "No, my son. Nothing is a joke, for the Father has his hand in each moment of your life."
Yama, the Lord of Death said, "MUCH WEIGHS ON YOUR SOUL, MORTAL. YOU SHOULD TREAD LIGHTLY, FOR YOUR ACTIONS IN THIS LIFE WILL DETERMINE YOUR NEXT ONE."
Aphrodite, Goddess of Pleasure, Beauty and Desire said, "It's no use boys, I know who this one will pick."
The man, his eyes glued to Aphrodite's uncovered breasts, barely heard her.
"Pick?" He asked.
"Yes," said Jesus, once again putting his hand on the man's shoulder.
"You mean between you three? Pick what?" he said.
"WHICH OF US WILL YOU CHOOSE TO FOLLOW?" said Yama, the Lord of Death. The man glanced at all three, though his eyes wavered a little longer on Aphrodite.
"I don't understand. What happens when I pick?"
Jesus turned to the man and said, "If you follow me, I will show you the love of God and bring your soul to everlasting peace."
"SHOULD YOU PICK ME," said Yama, "I WILL JUDGE YOUR ACTIONS IN THIS LIFE AND DECIDE WHAT YOU WILL BECOME IN THE NEXT LIFE."
"And I mortal," Aphrodite said, moving closer, "I will copulate with you in all the wildest ways you can imagine, in every place on this earth and in the heavens."
All three held out their hands. Without a word, the man took Aphrodite's hand and she led him out of the elevator.
As the door closed Jesus sighed and Yama frowned.
"HOW MANY MORTAL MEN HAVE CHOSEN HER SO FAR?"
"Sixteen thousand and fifty three," said Jesus. "But there are three billion more males yet to ask." Jesus put his hand on Yama's shoulder. Yama looked at the floor and his shoulders sagged.
"MAYBE THE HOMOSEXUAL MALES WILL CHOOSE ONE OF US."
"I hope so," said Jesus. "I really hope so."
|
As I stepped on I cursed my luck. Some dude in white robes with a hippie beard, a guy in an alien costume, and someone with 4 extra fake arms. Weirdos. *Whatever* I hit the button labeled 23 and quietly take a place between alien and hippie. Closing my eyes, I let the soothing sounds of Fransiscan monk chanting soothe me through my headphones. My therapist had been right, it did help with the anger issues. It took a few minutes before I realized I should have reached my stop. Opening my eyes, I look up at the floor indicator
&nbsp; 750. 751. 752. *Oh what the fucking fuck? Jesus Christ!* "Yes?" hippie spoke up. "What?"
"You said my name. Well, thought it, but I can always hear when I am called, out loud or not." I took a step back and bumped into alien dude. As I turned around I started to notice that his face was either the most realistic mask I had ever seen, or not human. Very not human. "Don't mind him, he likes showing off. He's great at parties though."
*Fucking hell is going on! Okay get it together. Its probably a side effect of those new pills. Yeah that's it.* The elevator jolts to a stop. I look up at the floor number. 777. The doors open on a rolling expanse of white clouds. A beautiful blond haired woman with wings steps into the elevator and hands hippie/Jesus an envelope, then steps back out and the doors close.
"No fucking way. Jesus was middle eastern, I know this." I used to watch the History Channel when it was still good. No one's pulling this shit on me.
"I appear to you as you visualize me in your head. You may know it on an intellectual level, but you grew up around Western images of me and still picture me like this, do you not?"
"Fuck. I don't even believe in you anymore."
"Evolution. You often use the argument on the internet that it exists whether or not any particular person believes in it. Why should I be held to a different standard?"
"Besides, Xenu and I are here, that at the very least should have you asking more interesting questions than why is Jesus white." six arms spoke up.
*Balls.*
Edit its supposed to go 750, 751, 752 I don't know why formatting screwed me. I write these in word and then copy them over usually except for short ones. Damn.
Edit 2: Fixed, thanks to Lexilogical for advice.
| 2014-08-17T15:58:35
| 2014-08-17T15:55:18
| 18
| 11
|
[WP] write a short horror story that seems completely normal and non scary until the very last sentence at which point it becomes absolutely terrifying.
|
"I couldn't ask for a better birthday," she said. "Beautiful weather, lush countryside and best of all, a picnic with the man I love."
"Here," he said, as he offered her a scotch egg.
"Wow - homemade?"
He nodded enthusiastically. "Go on, try it."
She bit into the soft layer of breadcrumbs, through the meat and into the cavernous center.
"Oh my god, this is amazing!"
"Your father helped me with it," he said, taking out a knife and slicing the loaf of bread.
"It was *dad's* recipe? Oh my God, you're so sneaky! When did you go see him?"
"Yesterday. I... I wanted to ask him... God, this is tough. I wanted to ask him for his permission..."
"*To marry me?*" she whispered.
"Yes." He nodded towards the white, round centre of the scotch-egg.
"Is-" she began, her face ecstatic, "Is there a ring in the- oh, *oh God*," she said, as she picked up the egg in the center. She turned it around, until its pupil stared straight at her.
"Your father said no. But I think - *hope* - you might say, yes?"
|
Zachariah Jefferson was your average 12-year-old boy. He played soccer, basketball, and tennis though he was never really that good at it, but it was inspiring to see him try so hard.
When Zachariah turned 14, he gave up on sports and started to play the piano. He actually became quite the little pianist if I may say so myself.
When Zachariah was 16, he started to date and quickly forgot his pursuit of becoming great at something. I was sad at how he threw away his dreams for the pursuit of his sexual desires.
Zachariah turned 18 and he started packing his things. I started to scream at him to stay, but all he did was sit on the ground and stare up at me.
His parents were away for a couple of days and he was going off to college.
Zachariah was finally great at something.
He was the great meal that I have been waiting for, and it only took me 18 years of living in his attic.
| 2017-05-31T06:46:24
| 2017-05-31T01:07:06
| 1,067
| 573
|
[WP] You live in a city full of people with powers (telekinesis, electro kinesis, sensors, etc) and everyone is ranked according to how powerful they but they can kill someone of higher rank and obtain their rank. You are rank #1 but no one knows what your power is
Edit: Thank you all so much for submitting your stories. please do not stop posting and i will not stop reading. my favourites so far have been the coinflip/luck duo and the weak telekinetic that goes for the brain lol love all the spins on powers everyone has
|
Hi, I'm going to tell my little story here rather quickly as I am rushed for time. Being #1 makes a lot of folks very interested in killing me, so I have to constantly remain on edge.
If there were no ranking systems, most people would assume that I have absolutely no powers. My power is a much more subtle one. But enough tension building, I'll just tell you what it is right now. I have the power of deception.
Seems pretty lame compared to some of the other powers around here -- rank #2 has laser vision for Christ's sake -- but it definitely has its uses. I can make anyone believe or do anything I want. For example, today I convinced a man with acid breath to kill himself. Needless to say, that was a pretty dark moment for me, but I've done worse.
I like to think I'm a pretty charming guy. It helps me manipulate people when I need to. My girlfriend is rank #4 in the city and rank #1 for females. She sadly has the power to crush a man's soul. Ok that's not entirely true, but she does have supersonic speed. I hope you don't think that I accidentally fell in love with the most powerful woman in the city, I planned it. She is entirely convinced that I love her and that really comes to my advantage. She'll do absolutely anything for me, and that can really come in handy for someone as targeted as me in this city. In a way I guess I do love her. I love that she will do simple things for me like robbing a bank. And I especially love the complex things: like murdering her powerful, high ranking family for me. The poor girl can't help but to be infatuated with me -- literally.
Anyways, thats the gist of how I became #1 here. Call me an asshole if you want, but that's the type of personality you have to have to remain on top. It's survival of the fittest, baby. The strong survive and the weak die.
|
It wasn't so much a power as it was a curse. Tell me how you would feel to die a million deaths. To wake up the day before the dominoes fell, the machination of reality that would end your life took place, and then some small nuance in the fabric of reality is altered to spare your life for a few more days, years, an eternity. Maybe your consciousness was somehow attached to every other version of you in a theoretical multiverse. Maybe history would simply rewind. You didn't understand how it worked, and felt no more in control than a rat on a wheel. At first it was truly an anguish lamentable, but over eons of human experience you've grown cold and accustomed to your own personal hell. The very world would bend itself minutely just to keep you alive, to keep you at the precipice, to keep you number one.
| 2014-12-18T13:12:49
| 2014-12-18T12:57:51
| 18
| 10
|
[WP] Your gf invited you to meet her parents. You told her that you're a veterinarian. Her father is a computer repairman. In reality, however, you are an assassin. A very good one at that, too. When you see her father, your heart skips a beat. He's your boss.
|
"So, are you ready, strong guy?", she poked my ribs.
"Well, it isn't like I already faced way tougher stuff." I swallowed. I didn't want to get back into town for a few more weeks, but so many agents got a hint for a special target which should be right in this area.
"Yeah, yeah. Horses and stuff, I know. Ohh, and by the way, don't get scared, my dad loves to go the gym and stare people down. Please don't take it personal, that's just what he likes to do." My girlfriend walked a bit quicker to overtake me, then turned around to walk backwards. Her lightbrown Hair was slightly waving in the cool evening breeze.
I looked her right into her sparkling eyes. "That's right. Horses", I smiled, and she took my hand.
"Come on, we gotta hurry up now", she pulled me so I'd speed up. Not, that I couldn't overtake her easily, but I still had a flesh wound on my right upper thigh and a stab wound on my right shoulder. so running was a bit hard. "Sure, darling." I checked for my small PPK with my left hand. Feeling the cold metal touching my skin underneath my shirt felt surprisingly calming. Not, that I'd prefer that gun over my service pistol, a trusted Walther Q5 SF chambered in 9x19mm rounds. Ah, how many last shots were fired out of this gun. I almost lost count.
"Beautiful girl to Jake. Are you still there?" I quickly snapped back into reality.
"Sure, sure. Still here."
The next few minutes went by fast. Well too fast for my liking. The thing is, standing in a room being surrounded by 10 gorilla like bodyguards with fully automatic rifles didn't faze me at all. But meeting her parents, damn, that made me nervous. We walked into the entrance to a fairly big, simple house. The walls were in a light yellow color, there were two cars parked in the garage and a high hedge was blocking my view to the other houses in the street. While walking the few meters to the door my head calculated every possible escape route and ankle I was exposed to. I couldn't help it. It was an instinct, nothing more. But there was something not right about this place. And as soon as the dark red door opened, it hit me like a damn lighting.
The license plate of the black BMW. It was my bosses. And here he stood in front of me. Button up shirt, muscular, short white hair, a slightly visible car above his left eye and a well trimmed beard. He looked at me with a smile that told me he was as amused as surprised to see me. I held my hand out.
"Mister Starset", I said
He took my hand.
"You must be Jake Blackwood, right?"
We starred into each others eye, while both of us was closing his hand as much as possible to see you would flinch first. My girlfriend didn't seem to notice, but her swift hug for her dad broke the competition we had.
"Heya, Daddy. Long time no see." She quickly moved through the door. "Hello, mom!", My girl shouted through the house, finally disappearing into what was most likely the kitchen.
"Out of all the guys, I did not at all expect you, Agent Blackwood."
"I always said, I have good taste, sir.", I smirked at him. Me and him, we always got along fairly good. We even shared a bottle of Irish whiskey from time to time. Well, now it's time to see how much he really liked me.
"By all means, came in. I'm dying to talk to my daughters lucky boyfriend!", His voice was so blatently cold, I couldn't make out if he was sarcastic, honest or just an asshole. He might seem tough, and it worked for him, but I was like 2% it was just an act.
Before stepping into the kitchen, he stopped me.
"Do you have a weapon on you?"
I just stood there silently, not knowing what to say, but he just calmly laid a hand on my shoulder, but clenched it as soon it sat there, shooting a sharp pain through my entire body, as he hit the still healing stab wound. How convenient.
"At least you aren't dumb"
I followed him through a long hallway with old pictures on the sides to a dark wood door. He opened it for me gesturing with his hand to make me walk through it before him.
I walked into a fairly open room. A round table was placed into the corner, having chairs all around it. I finally smelled the fresh made turturkeykey, the potatoes and vegetables.
"Please, sit down", my Boss said.
I naturally picked the seat in the corner. It was an instinct I acquired after years of assassinating and getting knifes rammed into my back. It was a literal pain to explain those wounds at night. As I wanted to sit down, I basically felt the piercing look my boss gave me, as I was about to sit down into his seat. Immediately regretting my fast made decision, I picked the chair next to him, still being relatively near the corner. He nodded approving and only seconds later my girlfriends mother entered the room, followed by her, bringing in the last things and a bottle of wine.
"So, you're a vet?", the mother startet, while we all put food on our plates.
"Yeah, exactly. I just love helping people. I always wanted to make a change, after almost loosing a dear family friend and well, a good surgery was what he basically needed. So, vet it was."
She nodded understanding. "I was a nurse once, basically having the same mindset. And Hank over there," she looked at my boss, "jumped right on the train when all the computer stuff took off..."
The conversation went on, and I learned a lot of interesting details about Hank and his love for the simple things, like collecting pennies. But my girlfriend didn't spare the embarrassing details either, so the whole thing was a mix of laughs and cringe.
"So, if you'd excuse us," Hank said, getting a pack of cigars from a shelf, "the two men should have a little talk outside" I followed him outside, as he closed the door behind me. He handed me a cigar. Even though I'm not a smoker usually, I accepted. A quick smoke to calm your nerves down never hurt that much. He quickly lit both of the cigars with an old Zippo lighter.
"A computer repairman? That's kinda weak, don't you think?" I took a deep breath of the cigar, filling my lungs with the sweet smoke.
"Like you are one to talk. A vet? I know you care about animals a lot, but still. That's even weaker." He blew out a thick cloud and looked at me, getting serious.
"She doesn't know, does she?"
I shook my head. "I never planned on telling her. I love her. Protecting her is basically all I care about," I went silent suddenly. I took another drag, "is that the point where you tell me to break up with her..?"
He looked at me a few seconds.
"I originally planned on making you, yes. But then again, at one point she most likely would become a target. So with you, she might be as safe as it gets. After all, you know, what do to."
I looked at the sun going down and it calmed me again. But then, the silence was killed by a gunshot coming right out of the living room...
Edit: Part 2 is up on my account.
|
Rachel was so exited for me to meet her folks and the only thing I was worried about is if they wouldn’t mind my casual clothing. Is a flannel over a AC/DC shirt with jeans and sneakers good enough to present to parents? I usually have a okay track record with them and it almost always gets better once I tell them my job. I work as a veterinarian in the city and on my off days I’m a international assassin. If you’re laughing I encourage you to stop because I’m not joking. Just this past week my boss sent me on a international mission to go kill off some revolutionary leader. Had to infiltrate his ranks, spike his drink, and get home in 3 days. Managed to do it with my team but it was draining. My boss said i won’t have any missions for a while so I can just relax, play guitar and chill with Rachel.
She’s prepping me on how to greet her dad and how he’s gonna examine my phone since he loves computers. He repairs them so it makes sense.
The target is described as a tall white male in his mid 40s with a salt and pepper beard, big arms and a big laugh. Her mom might be home too and according to Rachel she’s just Rachel but taller, African American and with a dragon tattoo on her arm. We get to the door and I spot a car that looks oddly familiar like the ones we have at the base. She yells for her dad to stop being lazy and open the door. He opens it and he looks exactly like my boss.
“ You must be Justin I’ve heard all sorts of things about you”. I take a extra second to respond because my boss is my girlfriends father. I shake his hand and he looks me dead in the eyes like he did earlier when he told me I could get a break from missions. When I walk into the living room her mother runs over and extends her hand. As I shake it My boss ice grills me most likely to mess with me. We sit down and he turns on Wheel of fortune as we eat the food her mother made. After one bite I can immediately tell she’s a better cook than her daughter and that’s when the questioning starts. My boss looks at me and asks “ You into music huh? What’s ya favorite band?”. He knows the answer is either gonna be paramore or All time low so i know he’s just messing with me. I answer with the Beatles and he laughs asking what do I know bout them. As he laughs he shoots me another death stare, this time for lying. My hand starts to sweat as Rachel’s mom asks me how we met. As I’m recalling how her daughter poured paint on me in 5th grade her dad goes over to the computer parts and pulls a badge out of his pocket. Does he think he’s slick? He literally just pulled out our logo which is a upside down eagle over a black backdrop.
Rachel then tells her mom how I’m a great veterinarian and that we started dating Cause Rachel brought her friends dog to my job for nail clippings. As she jokes with her mom my boss looks at my pocket knowing I have the badge with me too. He comes back to the couch and we start talking bout the development of Video game Consoles and our favorite games. This might be the most tame conversation I’ve had with my boss in 4 years. Rachel looks at her dad and asks if he likes my sneakers. Her dad bought them for me after I killed a black market trader 2 months ago. He says their very nice and that he would like to buy them off me and now I’m scared. This is nothing like how he acts on the job: I’m lucky to get a good job or a hello out of him if it’s not mission time and now he’s laughing. As it gets closer to my time for curfew I hug Rachel hug her mother and thank her for the food when my boss tells me to come with him to the basement. And I’m pretty sure he doesn’t mean the regular one.
“WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING DATING MY DAUGHTER” He yells as we go into the bunker that’s filled with computers, world maps, and our logos on the walls. As I look around in awe and a bit of fear he yells again “ YOU AND RACHEL?” I shrug my shoulders being as confused as he is and that’s when he lowers his voice for a second. “ Rachel doesn’t know about your actual job does she?” I shake my head and he asks what do I tell her I do on the weekdays. I tell him that I tell her I have late shifts at the job or that I’m babysitting across the street. When I miss school it’s cause I have to take care of my niece who’s always sick. He looks at me and grabs me by the collar “Rachel can never figure out and if you put her in any danger I’ll be the one to Assassinate you”.
I shake my head okay and after a couple seconds he pops the question I was dreading the whole night. He asks me what my intentions with Rachel are. He knows I’m prone to getting a girl to fall for me on missions so it makes sense why he would ask. I tell him I really really like his daughter and she’s my favorite person to be around. He laughs and grabs me by the shirt again saying “ if you break her heart I’ll break your life and college fund. Yes, he’s paying for my college by giving me a scholarship under a fake name. I hear Rachel calling my name as it gets closer to me being out past curfew so I ask why my boss brought me down here besides to ruff up my shirt and show me his knives and swords. He looks me dead in the eyes and goes “ You’ve got to assassinate a world leader over winter break”.
| 2020-06-05T14:17:33
| 2020-06-05T14:04:11
| 84
| 10
|
[WP] All of the "#1 Dad" mugs in the world change to show the actual ranking of Dads suddenly.
|
James and Amanda where watching the news when they heard about it.
"I wonder which number I got", James said and went to the kitchen.
A couple years ago, his son Andrew made him such a cup.
As a handmade cup, it was clearly distinguishable from all the others.
James quickly found it.
"That is strange", he said and showed the cup to his wife.
The cup still had the text "Love, Andrew" written on it. However, "#1 Dad" disappeared completely.
Amanda looked at him. James could see that she will start crying in a moment.
"I need to tell you something", she said.
|
Sitting at the kitchen table Jacob stared out of the window and sipped a coffee from his "1# Dad" mug.
Suddenly there was a fizzing and spluttering sound and the #1 Dad appeared to melt from his mug revealing a #2,045,834 Dad behind.
He stared for a moment then said.
"Well shit... That's not bad at all." Then he grabbed a rich tea and dunked it in.
The end.
| 2017-06-11T10:05:38
| 2017-06-11T09:19:40
| 45
| 17
|
[WP] New technology allows courts to extract the memories from suspects to prove their guilt or innocence. The suspect permanently loses that memory. Conviction rates are nearly flawless. But no-one in jail knows why they are there...
|
If the punishment should fit the crime,
I swear to God: I would do no time.
I know you say I killed them dead,
But I hold no memory in my head.
I stood in court for all to witness,
I bared my heart, my mind, my sickness.
Said the judge, "There's just one way,"
"To prove your whereabouts on that day."
They can extract the memories from your mind,
But they cannot leave anything behind.
I thought for sure, they'll find nothing here.
And I will be on my way, nothing severe.
I went to sleep and when I woke,
It seemed to me my mind was broke.
My memory is plagued by this hole,
But I assure you I never hurt a soul.
I know you say I killed them dead,
But I have no memory in my head.
|
The guard smiles. Blood drips from my mouth from where he hit me. "That'll teach you," he sneers, uncuffing me and shoving me into the tiny, isolated cell. The door slams shut. Alone, in the dark with my thoughts all I can keep thinking is, *Teach me what? What did I do?*
___
"Jeannie, calm down."
As soon as the words left the man's mouth, there was an internal groan from everyone around the conference table that was almost palpable. Everyone knew that if you wanted Jeannette Parker to calm down, the *worst* thing to do was to actually *tell* her to calm down.
Jeannie flared, throwing her shoulders back, cheeks flushing and eyes flashing as she leaned forward to stare the man down. "I will *not."*
He shrank back in his seat, eyes swiveling around for help, and finding nothing but coworkers that were suddenly preoccupied with their notes. Swallowing, he turned back to those sharp, green eyes that chipped slowly away at his ego, and nodded.
Triumphant, she straightened and continued on with her previous point: "This system isn't working. Prison is supposed to *rehabilitate* people. But how can these prisoners be rehabilitated if they don't even know what they did in the first place?"
It was a good question. Everyone shared looks, but no one had any good answers.
Undaunted, she grabbed some papers off the table and waved them in the air. "Has anyone read these? A majority of the prisoners who are released go on to commit the *same crime* that they were convicted of in the first place!"
"So," one courageous man said, "what do you want to do? The way it's set up now guarantees that no innocent people are sent to jail. I think that's a small price to pay. And," he added quickly, "in the old system, it wasn't like it was working so well, either. Criminals are criminals. It's in their DNA."
She smiled. "Exactly."
___
| 2019-02-01T12:28:57
| 2019-02-01T06:53:08
| 86
| 31
|
[WP] Your elven girlfriend is having a mental breakdown after learning you are only in your mid thirties.
|
Aria walked to one end of our house, then cursed under her breath in that elven language that only she knew. I had been picking up bits and pieces, but even then I wasn't entirely sure what "Eis Ru'math" meant. The direct translation I was getting was something like... "dirt in mud?"
"Honey," I said, hoping that my voice was as gentle as I hoped. As gentle as I always made it whenever she was in one of these moods. "It really isn't that bad. In human years I am well into adulthood."
"*Aiyr kubarth*," she hissed. She finally turned back to me, and I was lost for a moment in the amber of her slit eyes. I had once told her that they were like cat eyes, and she hadn't taken that one too well. "Adult in human years? Sure. But in elven years you are still a child. Do you know what I was doing in my thirties? I was chasing my second boyfriend through the Emerald Glades. We both scraped our knees on the ancient bark. We laughed about how our parents would scold us for being so reckless." She shook her head, shaking the golden tresses that flowed from her head like silk. "Goodness, Mark. I was still worried about what my parents would think of my *skinned knees*."
I smiled, then handed her some hot chocolate. It was a favorite of hers, always calmed her down. She took it, then blew on it before taking a sip. I learned early on that elves had very sensitive tongues, so I had already taken the time to cool it before I handed it to her. It was lukewarm by now, but she still felt the need to blow on it. I had always found that cute.
"To be fair, I am still worried about showing my skinned knees to my mom."
"As you should be!" she all but shouted. "You're just barely out of diapers as is!"
I chuckled, then gestured her sit. I had led her over to the table, and wasn't that an entertaining concept? She was over five times his age and here I was comforting her about my own age.
She didn't seem to want to, but she took the seat I offered her. She was cradling her drink with both hands, her fingers wrapped around it like tiny, eggshell colored constrictors.
"Aria," I said. I took my seat opposite her, and looked her in the eyes once more. She looked so incredibly delicate at the moment that it was taking everything I had not to reach over the table and hug her. "You know that elves and humans have different lifespans."
"Well, yes," she started. She sipped at her cocoa. Her lips came away with a foamy 'stache on her top lip. "But I was still expecting you to be at least a little older."
"Oh?" I asked. "How much older were you expecting?"
"N-nothing much!" she stammered. "But something a little closer. Maybe... maybe a hundred. At the very least."
"A hundred?" I blurted out. "You realize that I would be an old man by then?"
"But at least you would be a *man."* Aria sighed. Her mug returned to its place at her lips, and this time she took a deep pull. "I was just considering what it meant to be bonded at one hundred. My mom still teased me about finding a good husband. I bet she never considered I would find a human."
I smiled, then reached for her hand. It was still curled around her mug in a death grip, but I managed to pry between them. She resisted at first, but eventually she relented and let our fingers wrap around each other.
"You're still a child," she repeated. "I... my mother. She'll think me some kind of pervert."
"I already told you, I'm an adult." The words, however, were said with no real heat. I squeezed at her fingers, and I could see the way that it calmed her. Her shoulders relaxed just the tiniest bit from the familiar action.
"Not to me," she said. I raised an eyebrow. "To me, you might as well be an infant."
An infant? Now that was interesting. "Really? And, remind me, which one of us needed to be rescued from that big, scary roach in the laundry room a couple of weeks ago?"
Her eyes jumped from where she was staring at the table. A little of the fire that I remember danced in them while her cheeks gained a dusting of pink. "Hey, that was different! You know how scary those little things are!"
"And who was it that needed to be comforted after her favorite character died?"
"Hey!" she screamed. I loved the way her voice went high-pitched when she was embarrassed. "Vander was sweet! And he died protecting his daughters!"
"Oh, and who was it that mumbled into my chest for a whole hour before bed last night?"
To this, she didn't bother to react. Her mouth opened, closed, then she ultimately looked away. Her fingers tapped against her mug the way she did when she was nervous, and I couldn't help but smile at it.
"Look, honey. All I'm saying is that age is relative. Sure, to you I may be really young, but humans mature a lot faster than elves. You said it yourself, you were still listening to your parents when you were my age. I, on the other hand, have already moved out of my parents' house and finished college."
She chuckled at that. Good, it meant that I was winning her back.
"Besides, it's not like this changes anything. I'm still the loveable oaf you fell in love with a year ago. So, please, let's not worry about this anymore."
She looked up from her cocoa one more time. She tried a smile, but it was sheepish.
"And you don't care that I'm way older than your grandma?"
I chuckled. "It's hard to care about that when you still need to snuggle up to me whenever there's a thunderstorm."
And to that, she didn't even both screaming. Her usual smile was back on her face as she threw her, now empty, cup of hot chocolate at me.
|
"Ah, finally" thought Sam as the doorbell rang for what he hoped was the last time tonight. He removed his washing up gloves and dried his hands before making his way around large boxes and torn paper, remaining dead glasses and half empty bottles of sparkling wine.
There was a click as Sam turned the latch and pulled the door inwards. There, as expected, stood Genine. "Hi Genine" said Sam, trying not to let all of his exhaustion into his voice. "Oh I'm so sorry darling" said Genine as she pushed herself into Sam's arms and pecked him on the lips. "The traffic was truly awful and I couldn't get away from work any sooner". She stopped in the hallway taking in the signs of festivities, but left silence where Sam could feel questions. He took the opportunity to take her coat and hang it on the empty rack. "Sorry for the mess, I had a few guests."
Genine moved slowly around the half unwrapped presents and detritus and into the small living room. Sam watched her take just a little too long at each gift as if weighing their value. Something was definitely going on. The situation had been far too ridiculous and today of all days had topped all the others. But he'd gotten this far, and he was sure the end was in sight. He just had to get her to talk.
"Make yourself comfortable" Sam called into the living room as he made a detour to the kitchen to grab the two now dry champagne flutes from the draining board. Maybe he wouldn't ask this time. It had been a long day and all he wanted at this point was sleep.
Soft light greeted Sam as he moved to the living room, Genine standing up from lighting a few candles. "I brought something for us," Genine said with a slight shake in her voice, and took a second to bring out a bottle of sparkling wine from her bag. "Lovely" Sam said, forcing a smile, having already produced the glasses. Her own smile faltered seeing that she'd been anticipated. Her eyes again took in the room's contents, this time catching the bottles. She composed herself and popped the bottle's cork. "To us" she said, pulling back on her smile.
Sam took a sip. "Mmm, lovely." he said. He couldn't taste anything and the bubbles barely registered at this point. He must have had close to a bottle of the stuff already today. "You said it was your favourite '' Genine said excitedly. Sam didn't remember telling Genine that particular detail, not to her specifically at least, but events of the last two weeks were getting lost in a blur. "But I got you something else too." "Happy birthday." she said in a sing-song voice, and drew out a small present and card from her bag.
Sam couldn't help but smile. Yes, the circumstances of their meeting had been strange and there was certainly something going on, but despite his other experiences, he did like Genine. She was sweet, and had a shyness that she seemed to wear well. He might even have let himself fall for her if she wasn't obviously lying to him. Sam moved aside some stray wrapping paper and sat on the small sofa. The box, while heavy, fit easily in his hand, but he put it aside and turned his attention to the card. Genine turned and took another tour of the living room covertly inspecting gifts while sipping wine. Eventually gliding towards where ten other cards were lined up on the mantle.
"My dearest Samuel. You have become to me, a love I've only felt for moon and night. Through glade and tree, forever you'll share in my delight. And so to thee I wish your Thirty fourth year, be bright." She'd signed her name in long flowing letters, and as Sam read the card he felt music accompany her words, soft and enchanting in the low candle light.
"And, he's mine." Gendalvine thought as she felt the spell complete. She couldn't believe it had worked. She couldn't believe none of the others, her competition or the ones who'd come before, hadn't thought to have tried a simple charm where tradition had this contest won through months, sometimes years, of gently teasing devotion from a human. "But it worked" she allowed herself to say softly while turning to him, his eyes still stuck to her words. She breathed and steeled herself to claim victory.
Gendalvine moved forwards, her mind racing. "The others had been so blatant and predictable." *Step.* "They'd been *blind*." *Step*. "They wouldn't help but see now." *Step*. "See her as their champion" *Step*. "Their *Queen*...". She slowly crouched by Samuel and reached to touch his hair. "Did you like my card...darling?" She felt her vision slipping, emotion rising in anticipation, the first true smile finding her face in weeks. "It's lovely" said Samuel, the normality of his voice chipping the edge of her reverie. "What?" She replied, more to herself. "It's a lovely card Genine, thank you. But, uh..." Something was wrong, he should be hers, eyes only for her. Unless... "Really, it's okay," Sam continued. "we've only known each other for a few weeks..." *Oh god, oh god, oh god*. "You, uh, got my age wrong." *No* "I'm thirty five." *No!* Gendalvine had only a moment of despair before she felt herself turn inside out and upside down as the spell reversed, and turned itself upon it's caster.
| 2021-12-19T22:50:22
| 2021-12-19T22:31:02
| 103
| 25
|
[WP] Foreshadow the character's death so subtly that I still don't see it coming even though I requested it.
|
I'm going to die today.
The doctor is giving me a run down of what will happen when we pull the plug. It will be painless, he says. Despite his reassurance, I can't help but be afraid. I glance over to my wife, my one true happiness in life, and begin to tear up. I can't handle the fact that I will never see her again. I pull her in for one last embrace.
I look back at the doctor and tell him I'm ready.
He gives me a slight nod, and slowly shuts off my wife's life support.
-
Edit : Thank you all for the kind words, when I wrote this obviously I could not have anticipated that it would be so well accepted. I'm glad that a good bunch of you enjoyed this story, as much as I enjoyed writing it.
|
Hello /r/writingprompts reader. I don’t do many of these foreshadowing prompts, but hopefully I can surprise you with this one. I’m a bit concerned the foreshadowing is a bit subtle, but if you read closely to the end, you should catch it.
_____
Sarah had a weakness for chocolate. So even though she was trying to lose ten pounds, she knew she needed to order the chocolate chip banana bread along with her skim cappuccino as soon as she saw it. Hypocritical, yes, but Sarah liked to call herself a walking contradiction. She popped open her laptop and went to ESPN’s website. Time to check the scores.
Her business partner Ian walked into the cafe about 15 minutes after she had finished off the final crumb of the dessert. He stood in line, ordered a large black coffee, then walked over to Sarah’s table.
“Good morning my dear.” Ian smiled and shook her hand. “I’d take a seat, but I’m off to catch the train in about 20 minutes.”
“Not a problem. I’ll give you a call this evening.” Sarah smiled warmly back and kept her eyes on Ian’s.
The exchange was just long enough for Ian to slip a manila envelope into Sarah’s laptop bag. None of the customers would have found the exchange odd. With his back to the only security camera in the cafe, there would be no record of the fact he gave her anything.
As Ian walked out the door, Sarah went back to reading the news online. Ten minutes later, she packed up her gear and headed home.
It had been almost two months since Sarah had a job. One of the keys to being a good contract killer was to not be reckless and carefully select the jobs. Her and Ian trusted each other enough that he vetted the jobs that she did and vice-versa. But their agreement was that it was just the two of them operating. Never bring in a third partner.
Once home she eagerly dived into the envelope’s contents, only stopping briefly to grab a Hershey Kiss from her jar. She was going to earn this one with a long walk later.
The envelope contained all the usual information. Her target’s picture, home address, regular hangouts, email address, social media profiles. An ex-lover wanted the target killed. She scanned the profile looking for anything unusual she could use. Unfortunately, it was a lot of typical nerd stuff. In fact, potential internet addiction was highlighted in the report. Spent too much time online. The good news was that the target was online almost every day for hours. She could use that to her advantage.
Ian texted her, “Is everything alright?”
It was his typical code to find out if she was going to take the job. They used to have a more intricate and complicated code, but it became easier to simply use normal phrases that everyone would use daily instead of something complicated and ridiculous like, ‘Ducks fly at noon.’
“Yes, everything is all right. Merci beaucoup.” Thank you in French meant proceed on schedule. ‘Gracias would have meant that the job was a go but they needed to change the date of the hit.
The job was scheduled for tomorrow. Sarah spent the day learning more about her target’s daily habits. She scoped the building where the hit would take place. She had a skim mocha for lunch. Then she spent the afternoon following the target briefly to get “eyes on” and make sure she knew exactly what she was looking for.
Her best bet was to get the target while distracted. She fortunately knew via the various websites and social media accounts that the target usually visited online. She set up a quick script to inform her any time her target logged in or visited a number of websites. She was putting a lot of trust in the profile point of internet addiction. She hoped it wouldn’t come back to haunt her.
The following day, she waited outside for the automated email to let her know her target was online. Sarah snuck into the building. She quietly picked the lock on the door. Once in the room, she found her target sitting enthralled at the computer, never seeing her.
Sarah paused for a moment. What sort of person gets so wrapped up in what they are doing online that they don’t notice someone enter? They don’t hear the out of place noises? That they never turn around and look behind them?
Sarah realized that her pause was way too long. She needed to act now. She swiftly pulled out the gun, silencer on, and pulled the trigger.
And, distracted by the story you’re reading on the computer, you only have the briefest warning before the gun fires behind your head.
| 2015-06-03T08:22:01
| 2015-06-03T07:02:17
| 2,420
| 100
|
[WP] Magic suddenly becomes a thing. While governments are scrambling to establish regulations, people defiantly flock to reddit to share new discoveries and crack more “overpowered” spells. Write about a trending post that, for good or ill, is making authorities furious.
|
r/FoundSpells
u/ MagickalBoi2019 - 42 minutes ago
**[FS] I think I built an unlimited energy machine!**
Check it. If you put a pinwheel inside a box, and seal it. Poke a hole small enough for a straw, and then blow into it to start the pinwheel moving.
When it’s moving, cast this spell:“Ventus Movens”, but be sure to cast it on the air inside the box, not on the pinwheel.
I’ve had this wheel going all night. I figure if I could hook up some kind of generator, I’ve got unlimited energy right?
—————————————————-
###u/ UniversalSkeptic - 26 minutes ago
That’s awesome man! Have you tried using it on anything other than a pinwheel? I want to go try it on the fan in my room.
EDIT: Don’t do that. It ripped the posters off my wall.
###........ u/ MagicalBoi2019 - 22 minutes ago
........ Ha! Awesome idea!
........ EDIT: Doh!!
###u/ ConspiracyTheorist - 16 minutes ago
Careful man, the government will not like the idea of free unlimited energy. They’re gonna shut that shit down. They’re probably in their way to your house right now
###........u/ HappyHenrietta - 15 minutes ago
.........They’re probably in your driveway
###...............u/ JealousGeorge - 15 minutes ago
...............They’re probably in your living room
###......................u/ DumbName1987 - 12 minutes ago
.......................They’re probably in your bedroom
###........u/ MagickalBoi2019 - 15 minutes ago
........What are they gonna go? Arrest me for making my life easier?
###...............u/ ConspiracyTheorist - 10 minutes ago
...............Yes. You’ve single handedly ruined a multi billion dollar industry affecting countless countries.
###......................u/ TreeHugger16 - 5 minutes ago
......................And saved our planet!!!!
###..............................u/ RandomDude - 3 minutes ago
............................... r/Beetlejuicing
(EDIT: Lots of formatting changes.)
|
Right. You have to do it with four right turns exactly the *right* way, otherwise it doesn't work. You've got to do it *right* as you're reading this post. Like, right away. Right now.
"It's a derivation of the Household Dishwater Sequence first developed a week and a half ago," Malcom said, scanning the thousands upon thousands of replies on the post for the third time. "If we match the user replies to their real-life identities, which we can do for about 85% of the posters, we find something very interesting indeed."
"Right," Jonas interjected. The young man was brimming with excitement. He alone had discovered forty two unique spell derivations. "...Look at the groupings of positive responses, specifically those who succeeded after reading the instructions." He jabbed a finger at the hologram readout which showed demographic trends on the post. "House wives. Home bodies. House husbands. They're all at home browsing reddit, see a title that outlines an improved dish-washing automation sequence, they follow the instructions, and bam! They achieve it."
"Hold on a second," a disembodied voice said from one of the room's wall-mounted screens. "Frank Bragander, CIA. We're just getting looped in." The power brokers in the room swiveled in unison to face the man, who gave the impression that the scowl he wore was permanent. "What was the title of the post?," he asked, nonplussed by the clearance levels of the individuals arrayed around the table.
Malcom's eyes darted upwards in betrayal of his exasperation, though he managed to avoid a full eye-roll." It's a simple title. 'Forget about your dishes taking up space in the kitchen. Try this instead.'," he said, turning to face the rest of the table. "It's the top post right now, has been for over two hours. It needs to come down."
"We're working on it, sir," replied Jonas. "It doesn't violate the site's TOS."
"Get it done. We can't afford to have it up for much longer."
"Is it really that bad?" Frank said, frowning as he read through the instructions. "It just looks like a variation on the auto-"
"...mated dishwasher sequence." Malcom said, running a hand through his thinning hair with a jerky, erratic movement. "But it isn't. It imbues the casters with a fucking *philosophy!*"
"What?" Frank was still frowning.
"They stop seeing the purpose in all of their random household items - in the espresso maker and slow cooker and microwave." Malcom looked around the table, unable to catch anyone's eyes. "The sequence takes out any materialistic tendencies in humans. Everyone who follows the instructions stops caring about status and wealth - they completely drop the fucking fundamental drivers behind our economy." The President slammed his palms down onto the mahogany table. "Society is going to collapse. It's the end of life as we know it."
Laughter burst from the TV screen. Frank had a wide grin plastered across his face. "Two weeks ago magic came into the world - literally nothing else matters." As if to prove his point, the Director of the CIA snapped his fingers and appeared right in the middle of the table, causing the meeting room's occupants to jerk backwards in shock.
"Our society was created by the past. It was created for a completely different reality where magic didn't exist and the unexplained was ultimately explainable," the Director said over the indignant muttering. He turned to face the post's hologram projection, then began to recite the sequence.
| 2019-07-11T13:04:38
| 2019-07-11T11:46:51
| 125
| 50
|
[WP] You stole 10$ from some guys bank and now he's coming after you with everything he's got.
|
It was just $10.00 and after all, I was hungry. Who would even notice? Who would even care? Turns out I had found the one guy who pored over every facet of his finances and like a dog with a bone, just wouldn't let this go. This was ridiculous.
&nbsp;
A little over a week had passed since I had found his debit card, with his PIN number so idiotically scribbled on the back, just lying there numbers up in the grass by the sidewalk. I never expected it would work. I walked over to the ATM a block up the road and inserted the card, and typed in the PIN. I checked the account balance. $86,400.00 exactly. This guy was rolling in it. There's no way he would miss just $10.00 so I made my withdrawal, and then stuck the card in the envelope deposit slot as a little good deed.
&nbsp;
Fast forward to today. I have shut down my Facebook account, Twitter and Instagram too. This guy just kept coming. He had used a bunch of his remaining $86,390.00 on private detectives to run my fingerprints from his card, and video from the ATM. Now he was trying to use my social media accounts to track me down. I'm terrified of what will happen if he actually catches me. Will he kill me? This guy's clearly insane.
&nbsp;
I see a shadow moving up the sidewalk towards where I am sitting on a bench using a restaurant WiFi. The shape is clearly avoiding stepping into the intermittent pools of light. I can't run anymore. It's just one guy, I can take him.
He approaches, "Did you take $10.00 out of my account?" he asked menacingly. "Yes, I did. I was hungry, and I felt like it was a reasonable reward for returning your carelessly lost debit card.", I replied. "Oh. I hadn't thought about it that way. I suppose you're right. I really wish I hadn't spent the rest of my $86,390 trying to get revenge." Then his head and shoulders drooped slightly, and with an air of defeat, he turned around and left.
|
*How did I get here?*
I asked myself that question as I sat on the street corner, rattling the coins in the tin can. I was wearing rags, whatever I could scrounge out of the dumpster, basically.
I guess it all started when my business was starting to take off. A buddy from college and I had had a fantastic idea that was going to revolutionize the clothing industry. It was so good, I took out a loan for 200,000 dollars to get the company started.
At first, everything came together like magic. I used about 170,000 to get the business off the ground, when everything fell apart. Apparently the bank gave us 2 MILLION dollars instead of 200,000. My back stabbing, scab eating, dirt sniffing scumbag of a partner **took** the remaining 1,800,000 dollars and ran. The interest payments alone cut way past all the profits that my brand new company was making.
I divorced my wife, so I wouldn't drag her down with me, and cut out everyone close to me so they wouldn't have to witness my shame.
I sat on the street corner, begging for change to be able to buy a meal.
What's this?
Some saint of a person just gave me ten dollars!
***************************
Parodied off of [this post](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/6o18uh/wp_you_have_86400_in_your_bank_and_someone_steals/dkdx2nr/)
/r/shucklescribbles
critique welcome
| 2017-07-18T23:46:02
| 2017-07-18T22:23:10
| 2,949
| 603
|
[WP] In terms of powers you are world class, easily one of the next up and coming top-tier super-heroes in the world. But you deliberately downplay your abilities, pretending to have only minor talents so you can stick with your team of underdogs whose leader you have been crushing on for years.
|
Its that time of the year, hero evaluations are happening again. The Council of Justice rates teams on their abilities and skills and assigns them to different sections of the world. Our team has always been assigned in section F. Nothing big really happens in section F. You get the occasional bank robbery or street gang wars, but nothing that would destroy civilization. I'm completely okay with that though. As long as Arisa stays safe, I'm good.
"Next team please!" One of the council members screams. His voice boomed throughout the entire building, it almost made my ears ring.
As our team makes our way to the council room, Arisa grabs my hand.
"I-uh..uhm.." I couldn't find my words, and it seemed like my brain was completely taken by surprise that she's holding my hands right now.
"Hey! Its gonna be okay. We might not have the greatest powers, but we've grown so much as a team, and I know we can get assigned to a better section this time!" She said, smiling.
"Well hopefully Mr Clumsy over here doesn't hold us back again. He can't even talk for himself!" Jake snarled.
He was talking about me. Last year I deliberately botched our team's evaluations so we wouldn't get assigned to a dangerous section. I managed to pull it off like it was an accident, but Jake has always been skeptical.
"I didn't know the bomb was behind the wall, Jake. Lay off." I replied back.
"Guys, now isn't the time to fight. We need to focus." Arisa smacks both of us on the back of the head.
We make our way through gigantic, golden french doors into a large room that looked so clean that everything was practically sparkling. In the center of the room was a rectangular desk, with a man sitting on top of it, legs crossed, eating a bowl of cereal.
"You must... be team 43..." he speaks in between spoonfuls.
"I will now transport you... to your test... Good lu–"
Before I could comprehend what he said, Arisa, Jake, and I were spiraling through another dimension.
I landed onto a large bush after what seemed like a few seconds in the portal. Something didn't feel right in my gut though. This wasn't like last year's evaluation at all. I looked around at my surroundings. Arisa and Jake weren't in sight.
"This is... strange." I said to myself.
A voice echos around me, "Is it now? I thought I would be able to snatch the rest of your team, but I guess one dumb one will do."
"Wait... is this not the test?" I muttered to myself.
A figure suddenly appears from a dark rift in front of me and knicks the side of my face with a sharp blade. I barely managed to move away in time before it would have gone straight through my head.
"Test? Oh, heavens no! I'm going to kill you." She says as she disappears again.
I'm on guard now. This definitely isn't part of any test. The last one we had was just a simulation. No one really got hurt, and everything was fake. But this... my cheek stings from her blade. This is real.
Another rift opens up to my right. I quickly flail myself backwards, just in time to see 3 blades flying through the air and disappear into another rift that popped up to the left.
"Oh come on. How can you call yourself a HERO when you can't even stay on your own feet!" Her voice echos through the air.
She's right. If I don't use at least some of my powers, I'm surely going to die.
"How can you say anything when you haven't even shown your face?" I said, trying to lure her out.
Just as I said that, a sword drives right through my stomach from a large rift that seemed to appear instantly in front of me.
"Don't make this too easy now. You didn't even count as an appetizer. Maybe your little girlfriend will be a better fight." She taunted, as she walks through the rift showing herself.
"You made your first mistake." I looked up from the ground, staring into her eyes. "You aren't getting anywhere near her."
I pulled it out of my stomach and snapped it in half. My wound healed instantly, and the cut on my cheek disappeared. She looked at me in terror.
"W-what the hell are you..." she muttered.
"No one in particular. A mediocre, clumsy guy that wants to keep his team captain safe." I said as I punched a hole right through her chest. She fell to the ground, and suddenly I found myself back in the white room. The man still eating his cereal, but Arisa and Jake were still no where in sight.
"Congrats! You're getting assigned to a new team in section A. The other 2 are in section C. You outrank them." He says.
It was the test the entire time. I got tricked into showing my true abilities.
He was drafting the paperwork for a team transfer, chuckling as he was writing.
"My, you've definitely surprised the council." He said
"Wait!" I yelled. "I don't want to be on another team. I want to stay on Arisa's team. Or I quit."
He looked at me, confused. "But why would you do that when they're the ones holding you back from your true potential?"
"I have my reasons. So am I quitting or not?" I was hoping to sound stern, but I ended up sounding like I actually just wanted to quit.
"Very well then. You are too valuable to lose. But if an occasion arises, we need–"
I cut him off. I already knew what he was going to say. "Fine. But on the condition that no other team, especially Arisa's, knows my true abilities."
|
Sarah's favorite flowers are Himalayan poppy.
I want to give her flowers. I want to braid them into her hair and tell her she looks perfect, even if she can't see so herself. I want to gift her a bouquet and watch as she inhales them in gratitude. She will smile, laughing a bit, not afraid of showing her lips, before making me smell them myself. I want to show her my favorite place, in the middle of a forest clearing, when the bees pollinate the roses and see in her eyes how she longs for one to stop on her palm.
I want, but alas, I can't. How can one decorate a forest nymph life with flora?
I do the best to decorate her moments, instead. She is the leader of a hero group, and I've sworn an oath to myself to take part in it. They aren't the best - and if it wasn't for my help, I don't know what would happen.
*We sprint across the vines and tree branches I set life to. I listen to the rustle of the leaves, hearing when I can't see when someone is about to fall. We came to a report of a bank robbery. Citizens were taken hostage, and the criminals had weapons. But no money was taken.*
A bullet was shot towards Sarah. Kyle was fast enough to push it, but it passed right next to her ear.
*I can't hear - I can't hear! I hold my head tight, walling with what felt like no voice. I only feel myself losing my grip on the world around me, not knowing what is no longer under my control.*
Flora grew up fast - vines and branches covering the floor and walls, pushing and pulling people in random directions. Some people, including some criminals, civilians, and our Sean hanged upside down from the ceiling. At the corner of the room, one of the men puts a finger up his lips as he lits up a match.
It's a trap - we were already stuck in feet and a half deep in cobbled moss and bushes. The room quickly set in flames as the fire climbed across the plant life.
*Smoke is getting in my lounge and my eyes are watering from the heat. I can barely feel anything but breath escaping my body.*
I didn't care if Sarah - or anyone - would see me. I gather my strength. Flying, I lift off the building roof, placing it upside down to free those stuck in the ceiling. The clouds rain in my command to put the fire out - but that is not enough.
Now out in the open, I can see the fire that reached through what we took as our way in. Stretching across the city, right back to Sarah's place. I lift my arms like a conductor, in unison with the squirting water currents from the city sewers.
After the fire went out, I flew across the city, checking on people. Those whose tying branched did not set their bodies aflame I freed out, and the less fortunate I took to the hospital. Sarah was one of them.
I hold tight on Sarah's body as we fly to her place. She doesn't respond to my cries - but something in me *knows* that if we just went there - if she could just be there again with her flower bed, she would have to take care of them, right? She can't leave them alone, she can't leave, she cares for them too much.
&#x200B;
&#x200B;
*Something is holding me. Something human. I do not recognize it, but I do feel the presence of seeds on their body. The wind is flowing above my body and wailing in my ears.*
Her place - is gone. It is covered in Ashes. The smell of fried ground is omnipresent, and not a single piece of greenery is seen. I am too scared to land on the ground, to not violate anymore the sacred place.
Something is moving - something rustles in my pocket. I take my hand to discover a growing flower blooming in bright blue colors. It is a Himalayan Poppy. "Skylar?"
Full of surprise, I accidentally let go off of Sarah's body. A mossy bed grew to cushion her fall before I managed to catch her.
"Were you - were you flying?" she said, struggling through her speech, failing to not let her coughs interrupt her. I landed, lifting her body to check for bruises. "Hey what are you doing?"
"It doesn't matter. Don't talk - don't move. I have to check if everything is okay - how are you even alive?"
*"How am I even alive? You say it like it's a miracle!" Only now do I notice my aching skin, screaming as if it is covered in a raging fire.*
"I asked you - were you flying?" Even through visible anguish, she kept her mind clear. "Yes."
"Hey, what the fuck? Aren't you suppose to be Mr glow-in-the-dark guy?"
"Well, no, that I cannot do, but-"
"But what? Why were you lying to me about your powers, we could have - we could have done so much more if we just - if we-
WAS I DEAD?"
"I think so, you didn't respond to me, and I-"
"You what, you brought me back to life? Are there any other superpowers I don't know about?"
"Well, no, but... umm..."
"... is that rain?"
"..."
"is that rain in the summer, Skyler?"
"...yeah."
*My body was shaking from anger. And cold. And pain. "Ugh, I wish I could punch a tree!"*
*"Here you go!" Skyler said. He came back with a full adult pine tree, leaves falling as he rotated it and put it firmly into the ground. "Hehe", he said awkwardly."There's more I can do, honestly."*
"Why were you lying to me?" Sarah said, locking her unseeing eyes with me, yet looking right through me.
"Because I knew that if I stayed here, using what I can do, you will have no job saving the town, and I won't get to see you anymore. I will miss not having you around." I blushed, blessing the fact that she can't see my face.
"You did all of this to stay friends with the gang?" She said, a hint of a calm smile rising on her mouth. "I know you and Dave are buddies, but saving the city is more important."
"No." My words became harder and harder to pronounce, and my breath hurried. "Saving the city isn't more important than you, Sarah."
I fell when the ground moved beneath me, my head pushed down on the ground by an arm of leaves. She kissed me.
| 2021-04-12T14:58:29
| 2021-04-12T11:09:04
| 42
| 15
|
[WP] You are the captain of a starship, only a few hours before the last star in existence dies and the universe goes cold.
Inspired by my answer to another prompt about running out of time.
|
The last of the hyper giant stars, indeed, the last of the light, burns in its final moments. Beyond it the sky is black for eternity in every direction.
The great Dyson city, built from the last heavy matter in the universe, scrounged from across the great expanse of the cold dark, hangs around the roaring inferno like a spider web.
The star spins four times a second, an unavoidable consequence of the feeding process.
How many red dwarf stars have we shepherded here? How many times have we sliced them up and poured the metallic hydrogen of their cores into our great furnace?
It doesn't matter. The red orb quivers. A ripple the size of worlds runs along its surface. The tell tale signs of upheaval deep in its fusion center.
Humanity is ready. For eons we knew this day would come, and have prepared.
The hyper giant dims, and its vast surface begins 500 million mile fall. Only minutes left now.
Our city has sustained us for the eons that have passed here, at the end of time. It has sheltered us. It has given us purpose. Every life for generations has been dedicated to the city so that it could be finished before this time came.
The hyper giant is a thousandth of its former size when the outer shell of plasma strikes the core. The vast ball of fusion ash rings like a gong if its sound could be heard. Only seconds left now.
The tremendous weight and speed of the in-falling matter is unimaginable. Long before the shell’s energy is spent, electrons give way, joining protons as the core collapses into a neutron star.
But the matter still falls inward, pressing, and driving with undeniable power. The neutron fails and shatters into quarks.
But still, the matter falls. The last great wave of mass and energy, drawn in by the inescapable pull of gravity, collides with the quark crust, unrelenting, until even the great Pauli must bow. The quarks fail, and the star becomes one in the singularity.
At last the unstoppable force is defeated by the unmovable object, and great surges of energy rebound outward toward the city.
We take but a small piece of our universe’s funeral pyre. The great drives of the city spin up for the first and last time, and we are away.
Now the city circles a pit of eternal darkness. Beyond it, in every direction is light.
|
Captain Hope shut down the solar cell. Not much use for that now, besides, it was just another back-up. Seven independent power sources hummed gently in the background, built millions of years ago to make sure this ship succeeded.
The captain hadn't walked around the deck for 1,634 earthyears, since the last stasis cycle in fact. He had missed conversation for decades, until he finally gave up and disabled his boredom sub-routines. Now there wasn't even anything left to look at, except the charts and displays projected directly into his synth-retina. All systems normal.
Conversation. It wasn't as if Commander Simmons was much good at it. And what was there even to talk about. The plan had gone ahead, as we approached heat-death to cycle down to one active crewman, to save all available energy.
The only systems left are those vitals to the mission: a time-static capsule containing approximately 12 grams of biological material. A quantum computer running my consciousness and controlling the ship's autonomous functions. The ship itself requires an enormous amount of energy per cubic inch, but only in the final stage: when the cycle repeats and we punch through the time-barrier created in this new universe's Big Bang event.
If the tiny craft survives it will be humanity's greatest achievement: to escape the ravages of time itself. Thanks to picotechnology much of the essential knowledge and culture of the species has been hard-coded into the ship, and the crew's body-units are fully independent standing at only 5 inches. All systems normal.
Hope dreamt of a real future, emotion, laughter. His vessel carries the greatest minds of the greatest eras in humanity, at least since singularity was achieved. With the equipment on board he has the capacity to seed a new humanity, born to deep space: fully grown at it's inception. He longed to meet them all, freshly fabricated. He partly wondered if he'd be their father.
That was still going to be a long time yet. Gravity collapse was only just beginning really. A small counter ticked over: his sub-routines were free from corruption which meant back to standby. Another check before another earthyear passes.
All systems normal.
| 2015-01-17T12:01:22
| 2015-01-17T11:36:57
| 14
| 10
|
[WP] You are a food critic that can immediately identify all the ingredients used in the food after just one bite. Because of your negative reviews, many people dislike you. You are tasting a famous restaurant's steak. But after a bite, you identify that one of the ingredients is cyanide.
|
Malthus Sorenson, food critic, dabbed at his mouth lightly, pondering the meal he'd just finished at the trendy Chateau DeVries. On reflection, he concluded it was likely to become much less trendy, once his review was published.
The critic was exacting, but fair. He felt his nigh-superhuman sense of taste, that could identify the ingredients of any dish he tasted with uncanny precision, gave him not only the capability, but the *responsibility* to write honest, objective reviews. Moreover, he knew that his discerning readers expected the unvarnished truth from him, and for what the distinguished broadsheet he worked for paid him, he was inclined to provide it.
That being the case, Malthus simply *ignored* the angry glower he was receiving from the restaurant owner as he took notes. The owner, he reasoned, must *know* his fare was sub-par, if he was angry before the review was even written.
Taking out his trusty mechanical pencil, he began inscribing notes in his moleskin notebook in a clear, clean print:
*Chateau Devries House Wine: Unremarkable vintage, merely passable.*
*Chateau DeVries' Truffle Risotto: Dried parsley used instead of fresh -- what were they thinking?! Could detect no actual truffle in risotto -- they used shiitake mushrooms and hoped no one could tell the difference!*
*Chateau DeVries' Filet Mignon: Excessive thyme and an inferior quality black pepper ruin the flavor. Moreover, the accompanying sauce contained thoroughly disagreeable undertones of bitter almonds...*
He paused. Bitter almonds? His eyes narrowed. Bitter almonds...the taste of cyanide. He glanced up at the owner. The man's glower had been replaced with a wicked smile.
This expression faded to one of confusion as Malthus calmly produced what looked like an asthma inhaler and a pen-like object from his coat pocket. As the owner watched in amazement, the critic took three short puffs on the inhaler, and then removed the cap from the pen -- revealing the concealed needle -- and injected himself, before replacing the objects and picking up his pencil once again.
*Chateau DeVries' Attempts to Poison Me: Assassination method was clumsy and pedestrian, easily thwarted by amyl nitrate inhaler and hydroxocobalamin injection to neutralize the low-purity sodium cyanide that was crudely mixed into the execrable sauce accompanying an already inferior filet...*
|
I spit it out into my napkin and say nothing. So it's come to this has it. Can't offer me a decent meal for that extra star so you kill me off?
"Hey waiter, I'd like to speak to the chef please."
I make a quick phone call as I wait for him to appear.
He's a big guy with golden hair and a stern look about him. "Chef this is an interesting dish. May I ask if it was made just for me or part of the regular menu?"
"Nein. It's part of the autumn special menu. Is everything alright? You're not eating."
I take a bite out of the fries. Potato, salt and pepper. Nothing odd there.
"I just found the taste... interesting. I wanted to commend you for making it medium rare like I ordered it, it's so hard to find a chef that'll get the meat just right for that."
I have to keep him talking, got to keep him where I can see him.
"Ja. That is good. You eat everything then." He curtly turned around to go but I called him back.
"I was wondering about dessert actually. I mean, I noticed your menu changed and I can't find your famous lemon tart on it."
He turned back to me, thank god. "Lemon is good for summer. Now it's autumn so it's deconstructed Apple Strudel and traditional Apfelkuchen which is a south German apple cake with cinnamon and glaze. You ask the waiter for what you like."
He turned to leave again. I looked at my table and said. "Isn't that a lot of apples? I mean even the salad had them in there. I might want something else."
He looked at the untouched dish and actually removed it from the table!
"You did not like the Waldorf salad? I shall bring you something else. Pick another."
Just then the police finally came and I pointed at the chef. "That's him officer! He tried to poison me! Take the dish quick and test it for cyanide. You'll see!"
"Ya and? It is Bourbon-Apple Sauce Steak. Made with real farm apples cooked whole. The seeds will contain traces of cyanide but that is all. Do you... prefer ketchup?" A look of pure disgust on his face and I see a few phones held up filming the whole thing for the world to see.
| 2018-10-04T07:39:04
| 2018-10-04T07:21:56
| 439
| 173
|
[WP] A senile, old superhero still goes out to fight crime. None of the younger heros respect him anymore but all the villains have a soft spot for him.
Maybe he's found himself in the middle of a hero/villain war, or he's just trying to stop a bank robbery.
Edit: wow this uhh... kinda blew up didn't it?
Oh man I'm so sad I've got work today and can't just spend the whole day reading each and every story, they've *made* my breaks though!
|
It was a brisk October morning. The park was full of people milling about and enjoying their Saturday morning, some were out on dates hoping to find true love, others were simply enjoying their time. Towards a wide river, many tables were set up so people could have a view of the mega city, enjoy a bite to eat, or play chess. Two older gentlemen were at one such table.
"Ah! Your hand left the piece!" Said one man. His hair had greyed, but still held its dignified form of his youth, his hands had a slight tremble that comes with age. He wore an overcoat with a scarf tied around his neck.
"Matthias, how long must you attempt to distract me?" The man who sat across from Matthias was bald, but his eyes still held the bright passion of youth. He was clad in simple monk robes, and wore spectacles on his nose. Matthias simply smiled at his companion.
"Just like old times, eh Monk?" Monk looked up and smiled at his old nemesis turned friend.
"With you coming up with some scheme and becoming overconfident in your abilities?" His hand shook as he captured a knight with his pawn. Matthias was dumbfounded.
"Wha...how...when..." His voice trailed off in confusion.
Monk smiled, crossed his arms, and leaned back.
"You always did overlook many things in your plans. Ironic isn't it? You were once known as The Front for you cleverness and wit." Monk began to chuckle as Matthias scrambled to recover.
"Ahh...i see now..." The Front made his move after many moments of deliberation.
"Checkmate." Matthias was dumbfounded once again, as Monk had taken no time to decide his move. Matthias looked up to meet Monk's eyes, full of mischief.
"You always laid plans for certain events, but you never had plans for unaccounted happenings." Matthias sighed, this was the fifth time in a row he had been beaten.
Suddenly a woman screamed, and a man clutching a purse began running along the path adjacent to the old timers. Suddenly the thief held a hand to his eye and ran headlong into a tree.
Matthias looked over to see a piece missing from the board, and observed a hidden smile on Monk's face. Monk held a finger up to his lips.
A young hero began running towards the recovering miscreant.
"Foul villain" he began, "you should never have attempted any misdeeds while I, Steelboy, yet draw breath!"
With a single movement, he threw the vagabond over his shoulder, and threw the purse back to the crowd that was forming. He turned to leave when he spotted two elderly gentlemen enjoying a game of chess. He recognized one of them.
"The Front! Evil Front, you shall be captured by me this day!" He struck up a fighting pose, and his former prisoner fell off his shoulder and ran off into the crowd.
Matthias looked over to see the young hero challenging him.
"I believe he is looking for you." Matthias gave a look at Monk who had just delivered the sarcastic remark. He never knew Monk could be playful.
"Go away kid, i've done my time." He gave a dismissive wave and attempted to go back to enjoying his morning.
"Thought you could fool me eh? Steelboy never backs down!" With this, he lunged towards the unsuspecting Matthias. As he reached the table a cane caught him in the gut, swung him around and threw him to the ground. Surprised, Steelboy looked up to see Monk standing know, both hands on his cane.
"Wait a minute, you're Monk! Why are you defending this man? You and he fought for years!" Monk's face was as an elderly grandfather, attempting to teach his grandchildren.
"Young man, do you believe evil men will always be evil?"
The question was blunt, and Steelboy attempted to respond as he stood up.
"Of course!" He shouted.
"If you fall behind on a payment, does the bank not come after you?" Matthias was as confused as Steelboy.
"Yet, if you pay the amount, is it not forgiven?"
Steelboy had no response.
"So if a man commits an evil act, he is behind on his payment, but should he atone for his misdeeds, he is paying the amount in the hopes of forgiveness. I believe this man has wronged many, but many years ago, he saw the errors of his ways, and turned his life around. His debt is large, but he is paying it back."
Steelboy looked at him, then to Matthias, and then back to Monk.
"What on earth are you going on about? Loans? Payments? Who cares you old foggy, i'm taking him in!"
Once again he lunged forward, aiming for Matthias, but Monk had other plans. He grabbed Steelboy's fist, and effortlessly threw him into the river.
Monk sat back down, "shall we play another game?" He asked with a twinkle in his eye.
|
As Anton's whip tightened around Tony's neck, all the while sending huge volts of electricity through Tony's armor, he saw a familiar figure walk towards him.
"Ms. Carter, please step away!!!".
Peggy stopped for a second, and then continued walking towards Anton.
"Stop! You know his father stole my dad's inventions. He will pay for his father's sins."
Peggy stood face to face with Anton. Well, technically, her chest was facing his stomach. She didn't hate her old age, but was definitely not too happy about how much effort it took for her to stand up straight. She took a deep breath and straightened her back. Now they were chest to face. Peggy summoned some more strength and lifted her neck and looked into Anton's eyes.
"Now, Anton, do not pretend that your father was righteous and innocent. I think we both know the things he did."
His eyes dropped, he looked sideways, unable to make eye contact, "He was no angel, but his father," looking at Tony writhing at the other end of his whip, "reaped the benefits of my father's hard work, and build such a huge business empire. His father," he lowered his voice as he increased the voltage that hit the armor, "sent my father back to Russia, where he spent the rest of his life in a Gulag."
"Anton, is that what your father told you?"
Anton's eyes met hers, searching for answers. She continued...
"I was in SHIELD. You want to know what happened? Your father was kidnapped by HYDRA, and then some of the major publications released news stories of him being deported."
"He was a brilliant scientist. You think that if he had been deported, he would've been kept in a Gulag?" She laughed a little. "You think Russians would waste a great mind such as your father's in a Gulag". She said Gulag in a typical Russian accent and really elongated the aa sound to make her point.
"What do you think the SHIELD did with Arnim Zola? Do you think we threw him in a prison? No, we put him to work, and he worked for us until the day he died."
"He was old, senile, and brainwashed, by the time they let him go, probably he was of no use to them anymore."
"Come on Anton, Tony's not your enemy. Let him go, and hold me hostage so that he doesn't hurt you."
"I am not taking you hostage, Peggy."
"But you're letting him go."
"I am not sure"
"Yes you are"
"Peggy, how do I know you're telling me the truth?"
"Anton, I might be lying to you, but you agree that there is room for doubt in your theory. Right? Then I will go and talk to Tony"
"It's going to take you the whole year to reach him, by then his backup will be here."
"You really want to insult me right now?"
"Teasing, Ms. Carter, teasing, not insulting... I am sorry..."
Peggy turned around and thought to herself. Well it's going to be a long walk.
As she neared Tony, she was grateful that this time she won't have to straighten up, the man was already on his knees.
"How you doing Tony?"
"Listen Peggy, I don't need your help, my armor is protecting me like a faraday cage, thanks to the failsafes I created to save myself from lightning strikes."
"Tony, who is the man you are fighting?"
"Peggy, please don't think of this as a teachable moment, I am working over here. I really don't need any 'know your enemy' lessons right now"
"What happened Tony, systems are offline, can't run a facial recognition?"
"His whip's fried all armor connectivity below my helmet, my network sensors are on my back, and they are offline."
"So you can't even call for backup?"
Tony's voice was very low, as he very sheepishly said, "No"
"And... you don't need my help? Okay, why am I not dead right now?"
"Peggy, stop asking me questions, I am busy", Tony said, annoyed, when it suddenly dawned on him, "Why aren't you dead, Peggy? Because you know him!!!?? How? Why is someone you know attacking me? What's going on Peggy?"
"Because his father was a friend..." she paused, waiting for his helmet to turn towards her " of your father and me"
"Then why the hell is he attacking me, how the hell does he have my ARC reactor? Oh because his father invented it. He is Vanko's son."
"Finally, you learnt something, do you promise not to attack him?"
"He killed so many people here today, how can I let him go?"
"I am trying to save your behind, young man!!! At least have some common sense."
"Peggy, I can't let him go..."
"Tony, as things stand, I really don't think you're in a position of holding him. I am going to go and make him go away. Catch him next time... Although I'll recommend that you try helping him."
"Why will I help him?"
Peggy just shrugged, and went back to Anton, "what do you want to do?"
"I don't know, I killed so many people here today"
"Anton, that's what you did, what do you want to do now?"
"Peggy, they will arrest me..."
"Yes Anton, but they will not deport you, you built an ARC reactor yourself, in a garage in Russia. What do you think will happen next? You will go to prison, but you will work on stuff you always dreamed of."
"What about him?"
"His suit is offline from the neck down"
Anton turned off his whip, and Tony collapsed to the ground. Cops surrounded him, "Stupid old bitch, always thinks she can talk these guys out of things and get them to surrender." said one
Antone turned on his whips again, and took the cop by the scruff and said, "Did you just call Ms. Carter a bad word? You're lucky I don't feel like killing more people today, better apologise to her afterwards."
| 2017-04-13T05:53:36
| 2017-04-13T05:10:16
| 41
| 10
|
[WP] Suddenly, all sea life vacates a 300 mile wide area in the middle of the Atlantic ocean. A ship is deployed to investigate.
|
James let out a sigh as he boarded the S.S. Life-raft. He thought the name was fitting even beyond its metaphorical meaning. It was a small ship, just enough room for the scientists aboard and any equipment they saw fit to bring with them, and not a particularly nice one either, with obvious signs of age. Most would be surprised something so important would be in such disrepair, but James wasn't.
Unlike most everyone else James knew this was the fifteenth S.S. Life-raft sent to investigate the dead zone.
The crew members who helped him aboard were friendly enough, helping him stabilize himself as he stepped onto the deck. The head scientist, Dr. Avery Glum, was there to greet him, looking incredibly dour. Her face was lined in weariness, her posture rigid and unyielding, and even behind the thick glasses on her nose he could see the serious misery in her eyes.
"Hello, Mr. Smith."
"Hello Dr. Glum. You alerted us you had found something."
She simply nodded, seemingly relieved he was getting right to the point.
"Yes. Please follow me."
The two descended into the ship, finally stopping in the ships lab. It was a cramped, humid, room, unpleasantly over-lit with too many fluorescent bulbs, and filled with a heat that clung to your skin like tar. James glanced around, not really recognizing anything he saw. He'd never been particularly good with the sciences.
Dr. Glum pulled out a chair for him to sit at next to a desk holding several computer monitors. They sat in silence a moment, Avery collecting her thoughts, before she finally let out a sigh, and began speaking, voice flat, and deadly serious.
"We have been out here for nearly a month now, as you know, and in that time we've been careful to avoid the same fate as the previous crews. Yes I do know about them, you lot aren't as secretive as you think you are, and I knew we would need to approach this with the utmost caution. We did not start testing the way those before did. We never passed into the dead zone."
She pulled up a video on a computer monitor, showing footage of the ship using cages and the crane on its deck to extend out animals of various sorts.
"You see, I noticed a pattern in where the previous ships encountered a problem. The dead zone itself is roughly 300 miles wide, but there's a smaller, inner circle where each previous vessel and all vessels sent to their rescue met their end. So we ran experiments. The water is normal, no hint of toxins, or radiation. No sign of any predators. But the second anything living passed into that inner circle-"
She nodded to the video, recording a small bird being held out over the water. It was hopping around, tweeting, before dropping suddenly mid-jump as the crane extended its cage further away from the ship.
"-they died. We tried everything. Different animals. Above and bellow water. Different containers meant to protect them. Nothing worked. From what we can gather any living thing that tried to go beyond that circle-"
She pointed at a map tacked to the wall, a black circle drawn withing the bounds of a bigger red one marking the dead zone.
"-would always immediately die. No discernible causes of death, either. Our examinations have all shown these animals to be perfectly healthy, outside of their sudden deceased state. That isn't all, though. Everything that passes into that circle dies on a cellular level. Even bacteria on their skin suddenly ceased all signs of life. This is something I've never seen or heard of before, Mr. Smith. And from what I can gather through my contacts, nobody else understands this either."
James frowned, still watching the testing videos roll by.
"We sent you out here to find a cause."
"As far as we can tell using every method of testing available there is no cause."
Silence fell over them, thick as the sticky air. It stretched on a long moment, before James turned to fully face Dr. Glum.
"You want to say something else."
She nodded, solemn as the face of death itself.
"We didn't find a cause, sir, but we did find something else. The dead zone is an evacuation radius animals seem to naturally be running from to get away from this inner circle, and both the circle, and the dead zone around it are spreading."
|
First time writing so be gentle.
"I didn't mean to!" Tim exclaimed as he ran away from the side of the ship.
"Darn it, Tim..." I sighed, "I told you to be careful with that; if they find out that we lost it RIGHT after being told not to, they're gonna kill us! ...or worse! Take us home.."
Tim let out a short gasp as he struggled to find the words or actions to carry out to make things right.
"Just... don't touch anything." I said before he carried out some other "plan" to try to retrieve the lost item.
Tim sat there with a panicked look on his face as he just looked down into the mass of water he had just lost a prized possession to.
"So, here's the plan.. I'm going to go down there and try to retrieve the item before anyone notices that we don't have it anymore." I explained.
Tim tensed at the thought, "But, we don't have any rope or flotation devices to help if something goes wr-"
"I'll be okay." I say before he finishes his sentence. "All I have to do, is jump in and grab it real quick and jump back out. Nobody will even notice that we're not both still here!"
Tim reluctantly dropped his head in both sadness and embarrassment knowing none of this would be happening if it weren't for him. He hands me his knife that his father had given to him for his 6th birthday and says, "Be safe down there, buddy." with a big dumb smile.
I smiled back and jumped in.
As I got closer to it, I slowly realized that I'm not able to swim and started to panic.
Tim started screaming loudly, "Help! Somebody help! Danny is drowning!"
Everything starts to get dark as I look back up and see my best friend, Tim. Looking down in horror as I just sink further and further down into the depths of the water, then everything goes dark..
The next thing I remember is coughing up a lot of water and everything kind of spinning back into view.
I lay for a second longer just to grasp that I didn't die. As I look up at the person hunched over me I realize he's yelling, "Danny, do you hear me? Are you okay?!"
I respond with a weak voice and tears in my eyes, "Yeah, dad.. I'm okay.."
| 2017-11-17T07:25:39
| 2017-11-17T07:00:35
| 31
| 16
|
[WP] You are God, and you wanted to experience life as a human to see how you would turn out. In order to do that you became a baby that was born and you made yourself forget that you are God until your 30th birthday. It's your 30th birthday and you are a serial killer waiting for his death penalty.
Edit: Holy shit I wrote this and went straight to bed, I'm going to read all of your replies now, thank you. This is my first writing prompt, I'm so glad you guys liked it.
|
Ah, I said to myself, so they don't like it when you do that.
I had perfect memory in that moment, my transcendence repurposing my powers as I saw fit according to my holy whims. I could feel the blood dripping down my hands, each life taken no less recent to my mind than the present. The screams, the emotions flushing across their faces, even the chemical computers coursing through their veins as open to me as my own thoughts.
Funny, though, they didn't always get so upset about it. I guess it gets harder over time.
Where was my notebook again?... —ah!
I scribbled my findings down below the other notes.
`6. Thou shalt not kill.`
The clock reset and I settled in for another round. This was going to be a good one, I could feel it.
|
"Here you go, your holiness MWHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"
The guard threw the plate into my cell causing all the mashed potatoes to splatter all over. Well, not that I need any of that gunck. I invented root vegetable as my version of fast food. Quick, easy and cheap. Who knew it would get so popular in less then a thousand years!
Still that guard needs to be taught a lesson. Lets see how he likes his next pint tasting of blood.
It is understandable however. Being a serial killer on death row I suddenly come to the revolution that "Ops, by the way. I'm god ya all. Little g but still a god. I just decided to walk a mile in my creation's shoes for 30 years before I woke up to my true self. How about opening those doors and letting me out huh?"
Could have phrased that better but fuck it. I'm god. I can say and do what I want and you all better pucker up and kiss my behind for it... Probably why I ended up on death row now that I think about it. Serial killer my butt, so I smited a few bugs here and there. Nothing compared to my teen years let me tell you. You take a 2000 year break and everyone puts you on a pedestal forgetting all the bad and sugar coating the good.
Well, guess it's time to press the reset button. Lets see, the flood didn't work and the locus were annoying to deal with later... I'll just go old school and use a meteor. Worked with those ungrateful giant chickens!
Going to spare one species for the do over. I think I'll go with Mice this time. Me knows they're all over this dump and were the only ones to bring me offerings since I woke up. Mice it is!
But first I think I'll have some fun before I go. Now, who can I place as president that will make this as entertaining as possible for me.... Found him!
And the winner of the 2016 election is!!!
| 2018-11-22T19:03:39
| 2018-11-22T17:29:23
| 980
| 10
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