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timestamp[ns]date 2012-08-08 08:57:01
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timestamp[ns]date 2012-08-08 08:06:24
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int64 14
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[WP] You live in a world where every time you have a birthday, you get to level up a skill like in video games (intelligence, strength, charm etc.) most people spread their points evenly on each skill. But you put all 30 of your points into that one skill nobody cares about
You get to choose what that skill is.
|
As my thirtieth birthday came I happily put one more point into my only skill. Not that anyone would notice. See everyone always asks what skills did I put that allowed me in the end to build such an easy life for myself, and I just smile and tell them that it's my little secret. See in the list of skills and their derrivatives and different effects most people spread them across base attributes. Now this doesn't mean one who does not have high intelligence cannot be smart, it more effects natural gifts and abilities towards each ones various ranges.
​
I was ten like anyone else when my skills were unlocked and I was allowed to begin building myself. I scrolled through the list, the base attributes at the top, most popular specialized skills right below them. You were allowed when on the screen to test your point and get a feel for what it might be, but once you locked in that was it, you were locked with those skills. I was scrolling towards the bottom of the list, boredom reading the oddest most out of place and useless skills. I must have taken so long my parents started worrying cause I remember hitting the bottom and finding the oddest thing, a skill labeled Magic. Now this confused me cause I remember finding and testing magic tricks way earlier on the list. Hesitantly I dropped a skill point into it and suddenly I felt two things, an otherworldly energy flow through me and knowledge how to do a few effects such as moving small things with my mind and creating little illusionary scenes in my hands or on the table.
​
The strangest thing were two other senses with that power, one that it was almost forbidden like someone wanted it forgotten; and the other was feeling like it was almost an addiction. As my parents began knocking asking me if I needed help I quickly did the unthinkable and instead of spreading my points I dumped everything into magic and locked it in. As I exited my room to prepare for the day my parents smiled and asked how I spread my skills and putting on my best innocent smile I said it was "My little secret."
​
Shortly afterwards I realized why it was forbidden and almost purposefully forgotten and hidden. With magic there was no need for any other skill. My senses improved just from feeling the currents of mystical energies around me, I had spells that could increase my physical attributes to be inhuman levels if I so wished, school became easy as I used spells such as clairvoyance to show me what I needed to know. It also seemed the magical energies flowing through my body itself attracted people to me. As I leveled it up every year after I felt both my power grow and my knowledge of what I could do expand. The only downside was some difficulties I had with electronics, but that was small change compared to the abilities that were only limited by my imagination.
​
I was careful though, after the initial shock at ten I realized to dial it back once people were wondering if I had extra skill points to burn or such. I never let myself seem perfect in anything, but always well gifted, making sure to use my powers to fog minds and change things when people seemed to catch on I wasn't a balance build. I was set up for an easy life and knew it, but with magic I always needed more and every level I gained went there, eventually becoming inconceivable to put a point anywhere else.
​
Now as I turned thirty and have maxed out the skill I know everything. If I wanted overnight I could become a god, I don't though, no instead I will cast the immortality spells and wait till another finds this skill then I will find them and train them. In the meantime the entire world is my plaything, and I can choose whatever playthrough I want.
​
*Tell me what you think, I am always looking for input*
|
At the doctor's office again. I tripped over my foot again out in the courtyard, holding all of my notes from last night's study session I had with myself in the library. I think i sprained my wrist. I should be back in the library trying to find my dissertation. I was looking at some pigeons the other day, by the water. I do enjoy feeding them bread crumbs. I was also trying to compute some sort of pattern out of their feeding. They seemed to move around in some sort of pattern, I know it. There must be some kind of overruling order to this universe. God, what a waste of time. If only Mother wasn't so worried about my clumsiness, alas it was the only way to stop her from phoning every night. My classmates have all found their thesis, and professor says that as a student of mathematics at Oxford, we had a responsibility to make a significant change. He said he's surprised someone of my caliber hasn't been inspired yet, but i just can't seem to find the right inspiration.
-Mr. Hawking, the doctor will see you now.
-Ah, thank you.
| 2018-09-12T09:54:07
| 2018-09-12T09:36:26
| 74
| 10
|
[WP] Write a hero story entirely from the sidekick's perspective.
Bonus objective: The story can hint at the hero, but at no point should his/her identity, powers, or purpose be revealed.
Super bonus objective: All characters must be new and inhabit a universe of your design.
|
"Hey! Listen!"
I feel like I have told him this a thousand times now.
"Hey! Listen!"
It doesn't make any sense to me. He has thrown hundreds of other peoples jug viciously for wealth. The moon is nigh, but this apparently isn't an issue to some of us.
"Hey! Listen"
Five....six....seven bushes chopped to bits. When will this madness end?! I've overlooked this boy too long for him to be aimlessly meandering through our soon-to-be-damned world. I watched his hubris almost get the best of him once, can I withstand it again?
Seconds turned to minutes, minutes to hours, hours to days. All it has consisted of is the utter destruction of another ones belongings. The Tree gave us specific, sophisticated instructions, none of which have been followed. What does that Princess see in him anyhow? Better yet, what does he see in that Princess?
Something about his silent ways intrigues me. So much is said by simply saying nothing at all. Maybe it coincides with all the time spent gazing at the illuminated night sky on the back of his steed. Or could it have been how effortlessly he unsheathed his blade when I felt the most minuscule hint of fear?
Whatever it was drove me up the walls. All I could ever say was "Hey! Listen!" The attention gained from this was short lived, he could silently return to slashing his way through shrubs collecting rupees or showing our enemies their certain doom.
Was our enemies doom more certain than ours though? The moon practically lay upon the soil, and we are here breaking jugs.
"Hey! Listen!"
Suddenly, it all faded. No more moon, no more steed, no more jugs to smash. I woke up in the wake of the wind, afloat upon a red ship. A fierce lion manned our vessel, but was somehow one with it. I looked around to see the life I now lived was more surreal than the one before.
"Hey! Listen!"
Not to my surprise, again, no one listened.
|
He stretched his white hand languidly up from where he lay on sofa.
"The phone, boy. The phone!"
"You checked it very recently. Are you sure you want to look again. We could go for a walk..."
"No, no you fool. I must have *something* to do. My mind will not rest."
"You've just finished one! Surely you can't be needing another so quickly."
"You underestimate how my mind works, boy."
I had never seen him in such a wild fervour before. Often he would nervously pace the room, throwing glances out of the window as though desperately waiting for someone *anyone* to arrive. But this was quiet season in London and we had not had a client for some time. January was a time for new beginnings and fresh starts after all.
"Give me the phone."
"No one's called!" I cried in exasperation. I had almost preferred him when he was pacing. For last day and a half he had lain on the sofa in a deep fit of melancholy, as though naught but a new client would spare him from the torment of his great mind.
I thought with some nostalgia of the times when he had been placated by some new client and all his energy would be taken up by the problem at hand. Then his eyes would gleam with pleasure and high colour would rise in his face at the anticipation of having *something* to do.
But as I was contemplating our sorry state of affairs, the phone beeped and a new text message arrived. He jumped off the sofa with a devilish burst of excitement.
"Boy!" He cried in a hushed tone. "Read it aloud. What does it say?"
"Woman, mid thirties. Husband has left her and taken the diamond earrings that he gave her on their last anniversary. She has three small dogs and enjoys red wine and romantic comedies. What are you doing?"
He was already in the kitchen, pulling ingredients down of the shelves.
"The game, my dear delivery boy, is on! Now... Tomato, she's older, more traditional. Husband has left her, that's two different types of cheese *and* a stuff crust. She's miserable, so she'll want to overeat on carbs. Then three dogs, so anchovies, not pepperoni, so they'll stay away. Red wine... hmm... olives I think." He pulled a jar out onto the table and hopped up on the counter to pull down the last ingredient. "And onions, so when she cries at the film, she can pretend it's the food."
He had assembled everything together. He was breathing hard, and the languidness from before had gone. All petulance had disappeared. This was a man of his own making. He was:
The *Pizzaman*
| 2014-02-11T09:34:28
| 2014-02-11T09:04:35
| 15
| 11
|
[WP] You're a lawyer, who died of a heart attack while in court. Turns out legal battles also get you into Valhalla.
|
It was the last case of my career. I knew it then, but I didn't know yet just how immediately final it was going to be.
It was a tough case. Teenage kid, sweet-as-sin mother. The mother had a doctor or test or to justify dozens of medical procedures on this girl from the time she was five to fourteen. And all of it was true, to an extent. The girl did have brittle bones and blood disorders and this constant, inexplicable damage in her stomach that brought her screaming into the ER hundreds of times.
She was being treated like a case study because she was the president's daughter.
But I knew the truth. It wasn't a rare disease.
I knew it because she told me. Urgently, when she first called my office and begged for help, a guardian ad litem, something.
"*I'm not sick,*" she said. "*It's my mother. She's poisoning me.*"
You can always tell in someone's voice, when they're lying. And that girl sounded as honest and terrified as a newborn. I wanted to scoop her up, count her as one of the grandkids, and take her away from all of this.
This trial was the closest I could get.
It was all over headlines, instantly: POTUS's DAUGHTER CLAIMS FIRST LADY IS POISONING HER
The president's wife played innocent, of course. She was the one calmly and patiently reassuring journalists that a side effect of her poor daughters medicine was psychotic delusions.
"She doesn't even know I'm the one helping her," her mother said, "the poor dear."
The first day of the trial, the president's wife welcomed me warmly and pulled me into a cold, brittle embrace, like hugging a dead butterfly. She told me, "I'm so grateful you're indulging Grace's little tantrum. She simply wouldn't be able to accept her condition without this."
But then she leaned closer. Her fingers dug into my shoulder as she murmured low in my ear. "I hope you come to the right conclusion for the well-being of us all."
I stared at the secret service agents flanking her and wondered if I would be the first civilian they quietly killed.
"I hope so too, Madam First Lady," I said.
I knew even then that it was dangerous. I was looking at the most powerful man in the world and telling him there was horrible abuse occurring in the greatest building in this land.
And we both knew I was right.
The trial was a news storm, of course. There were a bizarre couple of weeks where I had my own goddamn paparazzi snapping pictures of me getting lunch at the restaurant across from the courthouse.
But I've been doing this work for 46 years, and I'm not liable to lose my composure because of a few reporters and flashing lights.
Thanks to the high-profile witnesses and accused, the court was closed to everyone except those of us necessary to put this whole show on the road. No audience. No cameras. The outside world caught snatches of rumors through anonymous jury members, the courtroom painter, and nothing more.
On the last day of trial, I woke with the strange and hazy feeling of a man facing the last day of a very long road, with no idea which direction to take next. I was always a workaholic. Never good at hobbies.
As I dressed in my hotel room, an envelope appeared under my door. The deliverer was gone when I put my head out. But when I opened it, I found a picture of my hotel window, apparently taken through a rifle scope. It was me from only ten minutes ago, buttoning up my shirt.
The threat was clear enough.
But I had looked that girl in the eye and sworn I'd do everything I could for her. No matter what.
"I make things right again, as well as I can," I told her. "That's my job."
When she gave me that hopeful little smile, she looked so much like my granddaughter, my heart was split between rage and despair.
So I walked into that courtroom with my head held high. I gave the best damn final testimony of my career.
The jury didn't need more than an hour to deliberate.
I remember sitting in the courtroom, watching the jury coming out. I remember holding that little girls hand so tightly and smoothing my thumb over hers, over and over, because there was no parent but me to tell her that it was all going to be okay.
A jury member stood up to read the verdict.
And the world went a little... Soft, for me. I remember the girl saying, "Mr. York? Are you okay?" but she sounded so dreamy and distant and my entire left side was freezing and seizing up and I felt my head hit the table.
I watched the rest of it from outside my body. I felt horrible. Another trauma among traumas for that girl as she stood back, weeping, so thin she's mostly bone, and all I wanted to do was protect her.
A woman appeared beside me then. She wore golden armor, which seemed strange, but no more strange than suddenly finding myself standing outside my body.
"You fought valiantly," she told me.
I watched my limp body and my law partner held the girl as she staggered back in shock for the EMTs to rush in.
"Seems like a silly way to die," I say. The word lodged in my throat, but I didn't show it.
"We all die how we must." She gestured over her shoulder and a pair of wings unfurled from her back. "Shall we go?"
"Are you an angel?"
"Oh, I'm much better than that." She winked and said, "I'm a Valkyrie."
I remembered the old illustrated Norse mythology book from my childhood and just shook my head. "The old stories are real then, eh? I thought Valhalla was for warriors."
"It is. Warriors who go into battle knowing they may die and lose, and yet go anyway."
I looked at the girl and at the jury, then at my own empty face.
I whispered, "I don't feel like a warrior."
"To her you do."
The girl was just huddled there, hugging herself. She had stood so tall when we walked into this courtroom, like she too had armored herself for battle.
"Do you know?" I said. "Did I win?"
"Go look for yourself."
And I, ghostlike, walked to the jury stand. I leaned over the shoulder of the woman who was holding the official documentation.
Guilty, guilty, guilty.
The ceiling glowed golden over us.
"Are you ready?" the Valkyrie asked.
I tipped back my head. The corners of my eyes were hot and I knew should have been sad to die, but I wasn't. I was 72 years old. I'd lived to do exactly what I needed to do.
Have my career. Raise my family. Live to meet this girl who so badly needed someone on her side. Fight one final war.
I nodded and smiled and said, "Let's see if it lives up to the books, eh?"
The Valkyrie lifted me up, into the unknown.
°°°
Thank you for reading :D
|
"Wait, wait, wait, wait," I started as the man bellowed something at me. I hadn't caught what he'd said, but he was built like he built brick houses and then ate them. He was holding out an impossibly muscled arm to help me off of the freezing ground. "What is going on?!"
"You have joined us!" He said with a smile that was supposed to be welcoming. You earned a glorious death and were burned in the proper ways," he pulled a horn off of his belt as I accepted his hand. "Now you may fight for eternity!" He blew into the horn, and a chorus of cheers echoed over the white around me.
Wait. It was white. It had been black since I'd died.
WAIT. I DIED?!
"Warrior! Eyes up!" the man who'd blown the horn called before unshackling a battleaxe the size of a Honda Civic off of his belt. He took a moment to unshackle a small dagger on his belt and tossed it to me.
I jumped out of the way.
"You're going to need that warrior," the man said with a hearty chuckle. "Trust me."
"Are you God?" I asked.
"Odin's not my father! My Dad's on the other side today!" The man raised his axe and charged into the white. The ground was shaking. Why was the ground shaking?
What was-
The fog faded away for a moment, and all I saw was a mass of writhing bodies, gleaming metal and pouring blood.
"Jesus Christ," I said, taking a step away and leaning down to pick up the dagger I'd been tossed.
"WELCOME, BOY!" came a call from behind me. I started standing straight up to turn around, and the last thing I felt was the axe in the back of my neck.
\---
I snapped my eyes open with the feeling of steel fresh in my neck. I opened my mouth to scream, but I wasn't being attacked anymore. I- it must have been a dream. A horrifying, deadly dream.
That said, this definitely wasn't my suite in Manhattan, and this absolutely wasn't my bed. What had happened during that tri-
There was a brutal pounding at the door, with each pound hitting like a battering ram. I sat up stock straight, and suddenly, I felt the best I'd ever felt in my life. No back pain; my knee wasn't doing that weird thing. Heck, my neck wasn't even stiff.
The door cracked open after a polite amount of pounding, and the massive golem of a man that I'd seen in my dream earlier stepped into the room. That means- Holy shit, that had been real. I died. I'd been killed. Wait- He said I'd died to get to the place where I lost my head, so did that mean I'd died twi-
"Aye, ya made it, man," the behemoth said in a voice that felt like a warm hug when it wasn't used for battle cries, "I recognize that look."
"Utter confusion?" I asked.
"Aye, some people aren't confident that their death was glorious enough to enter these halls. It's quite an adjustment-" the man surveyed my room, stroking his lengthy but immaculately kept beard as he did. "A bit boring, ain't it?"
"What?" I asked as I almost sprang out of bed. When was the last time I'd been this lithe? "I am-"
"Did your family not send your trophies with you?" he asked. "A warrior without his-" he took a deep breath and shook his head, "a sad sight to see."
"My trophies?" I asked. Like middle school soccer?
"Aye, yer trophies are back home if they didn't come to Valhalla with ya," he crossed his arms and looked at the bare walls, "I have a few that I keep in a chest because I ain't got room to hang em, may-"
"Wait," I cut him off once I caught up with what he'd been saying. "Valhalla? That Viking place?"
"Aye," he said, "though you calling us the Vikings makes me think you're an Englishman."
"We're both speaking English," I pointed out, "but I'm Canadian."
"Lad, we're speaking the God's tongue," he said, "and I don't know what a Canadian is, but it sounds better than an Englishman."
"Thanks," I said. Wait a second. We were getting way too into the weeds about this. Was I really in fucking Valhalla? "Am I really in?"
"Aye, ya made it."
"I-" I flopped back down onto the bed and took a deep breath. I had been asked for a Viking burial as a joke, and my brother had promised me he'd do it. How did I die? I remembered the courtroom, the Murder Trial for the Jenkin's Twins, but- "I died?"
"Aye, struck down from behind," the massive man scoffed, "though Brigmar did shout to let you know he was comin'."
"Wh-" Want to know what? I was going to let him talk. I wasn't about to get anywhere with stupid questions.
"Aye, ya died quick in the battle. No man wants to win by surprise, but if you don't turn around, I'm not sure what he was supposed to do-" he stomped over to my bed, looming over me and holding out the same friendly had that had been my first sight upon arriving here. "Now come on, there are lots about people who want to meet you."
"Me?" I asked.
"Of course," he grabbed my arm and yanked me up before I'd had a proper chance to extend it. "Nobody new has arrived in these halls for over 300 years."
"Valhalla?" I asked.
"The realm of the Gods themselves."
I shook my head; This was fucked up, this was so fucked up. I- Maybe it was better than eternal blackness; I was pretty afraid of the dark.
"The name's Thalmor," the goliath said as he pushed open my door, "yours?"
"Malcolm," I answer.
"Malcolm?" he asked like it was a stranger name than Thalmor. "That can work. I'm glad to fight by your side, Malcolm of Valhalla."
​
\---
​
*If you know you know,* /r/jacksonwrites
| 2021-04-28T17:15:43
| 2021-04-28T14:54:01
| 3,366
| 185
|
[WP] A rich man wants you to keep others out of his bunker as the bombs fall. In exchange, he's offered you a separate tiny nearby personal shelter with enough room for a single person that you can hop into at the last minute.
|
The trick to a good bunker is it's remote, but not TOO remote. Put it in the city and all you have is a lead shielded closet. Put it in the country and there's no way you'll get there in time. This was a good compromise, essentially a two story home underground, just past the suburbs and near the McMansions gated off from the world.
Most days, I was a glorified maid. Rotate out some rations, check some equipment, keep the place reasonably clean. The boss had a party here once. I wasn't invited but he never came back after. That was about four years ago now.
The alert came out before the news picked it up. There were false alarms before but I knew the drill: drive to the bunker, check it all over. But the alert never ended. My phone went off. The bunker tv showed the talking heads look worried, followed shortly by some old canned broadcast.
A few local families showed up. The call was pretty easy to make. The boss was all the way out in the middle of the pacific on some megayacht at another party I'd never been invited to. My phone rang, and I just let it. The bunker was big enough to hold the big man and a dozen others, but it was also rated to stop bunker busters. It could certainly stop an irradiated ghost a hundred miles offshore.
|
I agreed, of course, who wouldn't. I even told my friends "hey guys, absolutely definitely under no circumstances show up to latitude 43.82 longitude 22.44 between 1500 and 1700 on October 8th". I made sure everyone confirmed the details to be extra sure. And told them to pass it on to their friends.
And then, October 8th, at 1500, Boss Higgins was shocked to find not a few strays, but half the goddamn city at his doorstep.
"But- but you -" he sputtered, spit flying, red faced, choking on his shock
"Yeah, you're right. I did agree to let this entire shelter go to waste, all this food and water, enough to save everyone, just so your bitchass wouldn't have to share your billions with everyone else. But I had my fingers cross."
| 2021-08-10T02:53:29
| 2021-08-09T23:19:09
| 101
| 19
|
[WP] All of the major organs in your body are sentient beings. Every morning they have a council meeting to discuss the previous day and make new plans. The Brain presides as leader.
|
Pancreas didn't care for the "council chamber" Brain projected for them to meet in, each day it became more pompous and filled with gaudy decorations. He missed the open field they met in before The Carrier went to college.
Looking about the massive room you could see the usual cliques forming up as they did daily. Heart and the Lung twins were picking on Liver again, constantly taking jabs at his poor performance over the last few years. He'd toughened up here lately, but it seemed to hurt more than help.
The digestive guys were leaning against the huge oval table. Once a plain meeting table, this carved-legged monster was now polished to a high sheen that threw angled shadows from the tiered light above and tacky wall sconces. Stomach's thinly veiled looks of hatred to Liver were now common, as if he had some control over The Carrier's late night habits.
To Pancreas' right sat a few other glands, like him absently staring about the room to take in the new crown molding or odd decor that had been added today. These guys didn't speak up much, they just want to do their job and stay out of the social mess.
The dim hum of conversation was cut off by laughter and a sharp bang, the ten foot tall double doors with ornate brass handles crashed open as Brain and his "pants" buddies strolled into the room. Penis and the Ball brothers were loudly recounting their latest exploit over Hand with no shame as the three of them sauntered to the table. Brain took the lead seat with a casual arrogance as the rest of the The Carrier's team filed in.
"Right then, everyone ready for Monday?" Brain began with no preamble.
Immediately on the heels of his question, Right Eye leaned forward "Sir, we've yet to make an attempt to secure employment. Our funds are dropping very quickly and there is no-"
"I know!" Brain seemed annoyed at the idea "We've gone over this already, The Carrier just finished several years of grueling classes and needs a break. As soon as the muscle division says we're rested we'll get back to work."
Everyone pretended not to notice the fist bump between Penis and Muscles.
The usually reserved Nerve sat up, and with a slight edge in his voice, spoke.
"We have a problem."
Brain let out a deep sigh "Let me guess- Stomach hurts, Liver is tired, the wimps over in digestion are rushing everything in any directions, and energy levels are about wiped out before we even start. Does that about cover it? It's called a hangover man, we've been dealing with the sam-"
"No. We are in danger of losing an organ."
The sharpness of his tone, the way it became high pitched at the end, and the low volume gripped the entire table.
"Pancreas, please turn around."
Pancreas had never been outspoken, he'd never been a lead member of any part of the council, so all of The Carrier's functions staring him down hammered home Nerve's statement.
"What do you mean lose and organ? I'm fine, Brain what is he talking about?!"
All mirth and impatience were gone from Brain, replaced with a deep concern.
"Pan, turn around bud. We need to see."
The groan of sliding the chair back matched his own, Pancreas slowly pivoted to face the wall. He expected gasps, or jeers, or some kind of exclamation from the crowd he'd grown to dislike. None of that, no single word or sentence could have hit him like the sound that broke the silence.
Heart cried.
|
"Well, I for one think we outta go back to that all you can eat Chinese place, Brain, what's the name of it?"
"It's the Golden Dragon. Jeeze, Stomach, I think you'd remember that."
"I remember that Lo Mein! That shit was deeeelish!!! And that grilled teriaki chicken! Man, that was good. Except this time I think we need to order more beer!"
The Liver perks up and protests "No more beer! I'm not kidding, I'm not sure how much more of this I can take."
"Oh quit whining Liver! Beer is yummy! Am I right Tongue, or what?"
Tongue nods with obvious enthusiasm. Throat and cheeks join in.
Liver replies "Look. I'm not kidding. I'm overworked. We've been drinking way too much alcohol. Ever since... When Brain?"
"Ever since... she left us." Brain replied.
Heart just started sobbing. "She was the best thing that happened to us."
Brain spoke, "Agreed. I've performed an analysis of all former girlfriends over our 40 year lifespan. Out of both of them... she was the... best."
Heart just continued sobbing.
"Forget about all that shit! Hey! I got an idea! How 'bout we go slam a couple of those delicious Three Cheese and Bacon Angus Philly sandwiches from Arby's! Just as an appetizer! We can hit the Chinese place later."
Tongue, Cheek, and Throat all begin jumping around excitedly. They seem to love Stomach's idea.
Brain speaks up, "It's that sort of thinking that got us into this mess in the first place."
Heart just sobs even louder. "I can't stand this any longer. Brain, I command you, force Legs to walk to the closet."
Brain silently nods. Legs begin walking across the shitty apartment that The Man lived in. Eyes looked around, Brain muttered "This place is a shithole." Heart continued sobbing as Legs struggled to carry all the weight of The Man. Finally, with great difficulty, the closet was reached.
Heart screamed "Hands, Arms, are you ready?" They tacitly nodded, acknowledging that they were.
"WAIT! Let's not be stupid about this!" stomach screamed wildly. "Ok. Forget about Arby's. Wendy's! That chicken sandwich thing they have is damn yummy! And Wendy's is healthy, right? Or wait, how about just some ice cream! Dairy Queen is right around the corner! That never fails to make you feel better, right Heart?"
Brain drolly replied "No Stomach. No more. No more of that shit. No more pain."
Stomach just looked confused, like he wasn't seeing the big picture. "Well, if we're not getting anything good to eat, then I don't give a fuck."
Heart screamed "Do it hands! Do it! End this nightmare!"
Arms and Hands reached for the pistol, turned it around, and pulled the trigger. Heart continued sobbing in pain but stopped when The Man ceased to be.
| 2014-04-30T08:10:54
| 2014-04-30T07:55:49
| 42
| 24
|
[WP]The villain looked smug. "I will use this to locate every single person you've loved and instantly kill them!" He says, while stepping on the hero. "Please no-" and before the hero could finish, the machine returned a beep and on it, is the villains location. ".. oh"
|
"Hm." Nico's brow wrinkled as he looked at the beeping dot on the device. "Just a second, gonna reboot this thing."
Blake swallowed hard against the sole of Nico's leather boot, lying prone and helpless on the floor as the blonde man stood on him. Sweat started to prickle on his brow. "Listen--"
Nico switched the device off and on again, waiting through the awkward silence as the boot-up screen went through its loading animation. "Technology, am I right? I swear, the more advanced it gets, the more can go wrong with it." His boot remained pressed on Blake's throat.
"Nico, you don't--" Blake rasped, but was interrupted by the beeping of Nico's device.
"Right, okay, here we go. What was I saying? Oh yeah, that's right." He cleared his throat, hefting the device dramatically in one hand. "This device will locate and kill anyone that you love!"
*beep beep beep beep beep--*
Nico swivelled his head sharply to look down at the device, which was once again showing his location. His expression went on a journey of discovery through annoyed confused, intrigued, disbelieving, and finally, awkward.
"Uh."
Blake averted his eyes, since his head was held firmly in place. "Yeah."
"So," Nico started, scratching the back of his blonde head, "all those times you kept showing up at my secret base, you weren't trying to thwart me..?"
"Not... not initially," Blake said haltingly. "I mean, yeah, you needed stopping, but... I just never worked up the nerve to talk to you, you know?"
Nico seemed to remember where they were and removed his boot from Blake's neck. Blake coughed and rubbed at the boot print pressed into his throat, staggering up onto his feet.
Nico, hands stuffed awkwardly in his pockets, scuffed his foot against the gravelly floor. He'd switched off the device. "You should've said something."
"Like what? 'Hey, mister villain who literally just blew up the police precinct, you're kind of hot, can I get your number?'"
There was a long, awkward silence, neither knowing what to say next, neither quite believing how the situation had taken such a huge turn.
Nico very carefully didn't look at Blake, his head tilted to the side. After a while, he spoke with a very casual tone. "So, do you like waffles? There's, um, a pretty good waffle place downtown. That is, if, um. If you wanted to. You know. Go with me, or whatever."
No one would ever believe Blake, years later, if he told them the real story of how he'd ended up with his husband.
-END-
|
Sitheon recoiled back, his expression shifting from a bizarre mix of confusion and anger. "What trickery is this?"
"No trickery, only truth." replied Revanache, while he slowly rose from the cold floor with a slight limp.
"In all these years we've fought each other, all the people you've ever hurt or killed, to stop you, has become my life's goal. In fact it's quite ironic how-"
"Please!" Sitheon shouted, silencing a confused Revanache.
"Spare me the sanctimony of how you're 'bound by your sacred oath' and 'you're destined to stop me'. I'd prefer you didn't bore me to death before my time comes."
Sitheons face contorted to a ugly smirk of ego and admiration. "I must admit" He chuckled.
"I'm proud in a way. So many tried, and yet so many failed, but you? You just kept trying." He remarked.
"I had this strange feeling that we were destined to do this forever you know. For every maniacal plot I concocted, you'd find a solution for it. For every weapon I crafted, you'd disarm it. For every plague I synthesised, you'd cure it."
It is often stated that irony and paradoxes are completely separate, and yet Revanache and Sitheon felt as though the two had truly become intertwined in their roles, quite like themselves. The machine then let out a whirring sound in the air, like a train arriving at it's station.
Sitheon gasped in pain, his body falling to the ground, weakened and slightly limp, whilst Revanache stumbled to try support his weight to the floor.
"It's starting." said Sitheon. Revanache looked towards the machine in anger and then to Sitheon.
"How do I stop it? I've put an end to your plots before, I can end this one too. Tell me how!" he shouted urgently.
"Not this time." he replied whilst letting out a wheezy snicker.
"Although... I think at least I'm entitled to... one thing... Answer me this."
Revanache looked on in puzzlement and intrigue.
Sitheon let out a hacking cough, before uttering:
"Why... Why me? The things I've done, the people I've killed, why me?"
"Because without you I have no purpose. We are bound by the paradox that pits us against each other. And yet... I should've, I could've done more to break free of that. I should've saved you, I could've saved you. I'm sorry."
Sitheons face shifted to a mournful scorn of regret, angst, but then slowly to a cocky smile before he then let out a raspy cackle.
"...Sanctimonious till the end." he humorously retorted. Sitheons body slowly became limp, his eyes grew cold and empty, and he was no more.
Revanache had won. The man who had waged wars on thousands upon thousands of people. Who had slaughtered countless innocents, was no more. And yet, Revanache had felt as though he had still lost.
In the end, Sitheons death had come through a strange form of irony. For his whole life, he had cast off love as one of the most pitiful weaknesses, a heavy weight that stopped ones self from achieving true perfection and purpose. Revanache then stood up and looked upon his arch-nemesis's lifeless body, a smile still engrained on his face.
True to Sitheons word, Revanache felt as though he was at least responsible for putting Sitheon to rest. A short while passed as he gathered resources, placing Sitheon on the pedestal, he then set fire to the platform. The sparks and flames dancing with a jittery mania.
Revanache looked up towards the sky, and began to walk away, after uttering a final eulogy.
**"Until we meet again, Brother."**
| 2021-03-19T14:35:34
| 2021-03-19T11:04:44
| 203
| 100
|
[WP] The year is 2019. An unidentified radar contact appears over the English Channel, bound for an RAF base. It ignores all calls from Air Traffic Control. RAF fighters are vectored to intercept. The contact: a WWII B-24. Part of its wing is missing, and along its fuselage: long, jagged claw marks.
|
10 minutes ago Hawk was lounging around at the base with nothing much to do. Now he and his co-pilot Twitch were in a Typhoon at 10,000 feet and cruising just under Mach 1 towards the unidentified contact.
Unidentified radar contacts were not an unusual occurrence and usually ended up being a weather balloon, a large flock of birds or even the occasional lost light aircraft. But it was headed straight for the airbase and protocole called for a visual confirmation.
"Base to Hawk, unidentified bogie 20 miles out, unresponsive to hails. Caution storm front approaching, over."
"Hawk to Base, understood. Around 30 seconds to visual, over"
"Roger that Hawk, Base out"
Hawk look out through the canopy, eyes scanning the horizon. Just on the edge of the storm front, Hawk could see a small dark silhouette highlighted by the occasional lighting flash from behind.
"Are you seeing that?" Hawk asked his co-pilot.
"Yes, and I see it on our radar. I'm clocking it at around 300 miles an hour" Twitch replied from behind.
As the fighter closed in to intercept, a few details became clearer. Painted a dark brown, it had a large wingspan, 4 props and smoke billowing from the rear. One of the props wasn't spinning, and the paint job had lines running from the wings to the tail. A slight feeling of unease passed through Hawk.
"I think that's a B-24 bomber" muttered Twitch. "There an airshow on soon?"
"Not that I know of." Curious why the plane wasn't responding to hails from base, Hawk keyed his radio and tried himself.
"This is a British Royal Air Force fighter jet, you are approaching restricted air space. Please identify yourself and correct course, over"
Silence filled the radio. Hawk tried twice more but was met with more silence.
Now closer, the outline of the other aircraft was unmistakably one of a WWII bomber, part of its wing was missing and those paint lines now looked more like gashes down the side of the plane. Deep, long gashes out of which the smoke was escaping from. It was a miracle the thing was still airborne. Now much closer, it was still fast approaching.
Still, there were other details. Metal spikes mounted on the top and side of the fuselage that looked like Tesla coils and long antenna arrays attached to the front and bottom of the craft. Electricity crackled between the metal spikes in bright flashes. It looked like a Frankenstein of a plane. The B24 shot past as Hawk banked the fighter to obtain an escort position around the plane.
While Twitch stared in disbelief, Hawk radioed base.
"Hawk, Base. We have made visual and identified it as a WWII era bomber. It has extensive damage to it's structure and it looks there may be a fire on board. Over."
"Base, Haw... .her.... ay..."
"You are breaking up base. Can you read me? Over"
".... econd... ...bogie.. ...r..d......"
The radio was flooded with the sound of static.
"Piece of junk" Hawk muttered as he lightly kicked the console.
"Probably has to do with all of that" Twitch said, gesturing to the electrical arcs surrounding the bomber.
As Hawk pulled his fighter into an escort postition along and above the bomber, Twitch continued: "Even the radar's been acting up since we got near it too. Keeps picking up another contact just behind us"
Hawk turned his head and looked out the rear of the canopy to see nothing but the dark swirling clouds of the storm closing in behind them.
As he turned back to face the front, something in the B24 caught his eye. A man dressed in old flight leathers, who Hawk assumed was part of the bomber's crew, was wildly waving his arms through the cockpit and pointing behind at the dark clouds. Checking once again, Hawk turned to look at the storm behind and his blood ran cold. A second later and he would have missed it. But he didn't. Right there in the middle of the dark clouds, a giant yellow eye blinked open.
|
"sSssSSSsky dragons"... It came out as a whisper but crackled over the radio clear as a bell.
"I DON'T SEE IT...WHERE IS IT?..TAIL, TELL ME WHAT YOU SEE?", said a new voice.
"We've been at this for YEARS 'Cap'... Does it even matter what I see? came the voice of the tail gunner.
"...sky dragons, 'Cap', that's what we're gonna see and it'll be coming from the East... just like the last thousand times.", said the first voice again.
Major General Bartholamew Bartlett ("BeeBee" when he was younger and not 'in charge' of this whole division) wasn't supposed to be in a 'Harrier' doing contact exercises any more. He was, however, supposed to keep his skills sharp. What a day to be up in the sky, over the channel, trying to keep his 'active wing' status.
He smirked to himself. This is the first moment in his 22 year career that he was the entire 'chain of command'. He was first at the 'bogey' and he was to report for orders. However, he was to report to 'tower', who would then call "The Boss" and request orders. Since he ***was*** "The Boss", he would simply inform tower how it was going to go... one problem... WTF was actually going on?
"Tower, this is BB actual, over" he said. As calmly as he could.
"BB actual, this is tower... two, I say again, two F-35's are en route to intercept. Permission to "go hot" sir ? over." said 'Tower'.
General Bartlett smiled behind his oxygen mask. Tower was basically saying 'We've got your back sir and we'll smoke anything near you... just give us the word'. "No, tower. Permission denied." His smile faded and he had a thought. "Tower.. All weapon systems 'cool', but put targeting on to collect data, over."
"Roger that, Fearless Leader... (small chuckle)... Will do. What are you looking at? Need any overtrained F-18's in 'the blue' with you? Over"
Again 'BB' found himself smiling. His Canadian counterpart, doing a NATO stint on RAF base 'BB', was running the show on the ground. Good. All was in order.
Back to the task at hand.
"Tower, this is BB actual, tell intercept to switch to my frequency and ID. Over" rumbled BB, as his mind and attention were drawn back to "The Liberator" right in front of him.
(static squelch) "BB actual, this is 'Tiger Belly' with my wingman 'Bobber' at your ser.... What the fuck am I looki... Uh, sir... uh, orders sir?"
BB knew where to look, and saw the little grey blips on the horizon. As soon as he could see them clearly, they were already past him. He also knew 'Bobber' quite well and, by extension, was pretty familiar with 'Tiger Belly' as well.
He could not be safer.
"'Tiger Belly'... 'Bobber'... Give me a 50 nautical mile perimeter around the bogey. I hear some chatter on comms on another freak (frequency). Give me fiver earth minutes and radio check with wingman 'flyby'. Over" grumbled BB.
"Aye, BB actual, five and flyby. Roger."
"Aye, BB actual, watching the whole show on 'dar (radar)" said Tower.
Now that British airspace was "safe"...
What does one say to the Captain of a vessel that hasn't been seen, anywhere but museums, for the last 60 years?
BB's Harrier is one of the only craft in the RAF that can fly slow enough to keep with the B-24. He did a slow fly 'round to take a good look. This craft has been to hell and back. Her paint looks dirt covered and grimy. It's an odd look for a plane that was, originally, shiny silver. There were only two spots that had damage, but those two wounds were deep. At least 6 feet of the port wing was gone and there were long... tears in the fuselage all the way from the side gunner to just before the tail. Any call sign or flight/unit numbers were either dirt covered of missing. The only identifying marks was a painting of a girl near the cockpit and a name underneath.. 'Bobby Sue'
That's when the chatter started again.
"I see it, it looks smaller... but I can see it. The fire is at the back or something?" said the mystery voice.
"FIRE"
It was at that moment BB realised that 'he' was the "sky dragon".
End of Part 1
| 2019-12-01T09:08:36
| 2019-12-01T09:04:42
| 53
| 11
|
[WP] Almost giving up on love, you are set up for a blind date. Upon meeting up, you notice your date is literally blind. They ask for your name and you faintly say "Medusa"
|
"... Medusa," she said, almost in a whisper.
"Oh, you're a gorgon? Medusa's a beautiful name; is it a traditional one?"
Medusa blinked. Once. Twice. That was not the response she was expecting. "You're not... freaked out?"
Ethan shrugged. "Freaked out? Nah, my best friend growing up was a lamia. My school was pretty diverse, so I had a bunch of Mythos in my friend group." He rubbed his neck. "Bit surprised, I will admit. My friend who helps me use OKAphrodite didn't mention you were a gorgon."
Medusa shifted uncomfortably. "Yeah, the selfie I posted cut off at the forehead. I'm really sorry about being deceptive, but..."
Much to her surprise, Ethan waved it off. "Don't sweat it. I've heard from friends how hard it is for Mythos to date online. The abuse, the people who flat out won't message you, the weirdo fetishists, it's gotta be exhausting."
"The fetishists are the worst. A few months ago, a guy I met for lunch kept trying to touch my hair, and told me that he could be my Harry Potter, and I could be his Hair of Slitherin'."
Ethan's shoulders sagged. "I weep for the future of my species. Can I buy you a drink as an apology on behalf of humankind?"
Medusa stared at Ethan curiously for a moment, and then nodded. "I'll take an ambrosia and coke." As he flagged down a waitress and ordered, she took a moment to regard him. He'd never be mistaken for a model, but he was sort of goofily cute, and he clearly took care of himself - his clothes fit well, his beard was neatly trimmed.
He'd have no problem finding a nice human girl, so why was he still here with her?
After he finished with the waitress, Ethan turned back to Medusa. "So where were we?"
"I don't understand you. Why aren't you more upset about my hiding being a gorgon in my profile picture?"
Ethan grinned as he tapped his dark glasses. "Do you really think your profile picture is what convinced me to message you?"
"So what did, then?"
"You have good taste in movies. You're a theater buff, which is a big plus. My general impression from your profile was 'smart, funny, a bit brassy', which is a damn attractive combination in my book." He leaned forward over the table. "But you know what convinced me to ask you out for a drink tonight?"
"What?"
"Proper punctuation."
Even the snakes in her hair tilted their heads in confusion. "Proper punctuation?"
"Yes! Do you know how rare it is to find someone who messages in complete sentences, let alone with proper punctuation? Hell, three messages in and you were dropping semi-colons on me. How am I supposed to resist a girl who knows how to use a semi-colon?"
"And it doesn't bother you? The snake hair, the petrifying gaze?"
Ethan shrugged. "Why should it? You have the glasses to negate your gaze, and it's not like it's any risk to me anyway. And the hair's cool, not scary."
For the first time all night, Medusa felt a small grin on her face. "So you get turned on by Oxford commas, then?"
"Lemme tell ya, give me a woman with a sexy voice like yours who uses Oxford commas, and I'm all in."
Medusa blushed slightly, then smirked, putting a bit of a purr into her voice. "So my voice is sexy, hmm?"
"Damn, Medusa, careful with that. Forget your eyes, that voice is gonna get me rock hard if you're not careful."
Medusa's eyes went wide, and then she cracked up, giggling uncontrollably. "I can't believe you said that out loud! You're an idiot!"
Ethan leaned forward, lightly smirking. "But a charming idiot, I hope?"
Medusa took a deep breath and a sip of water as she stared at Ethan for a few moments. "Jury's still out on the charming part... but I'm willing to be convinced."
|
22:36
He's late.
You silently curse Sthenno and Euryale, at least they could have picked someone punctual for the blind date.
You take a sip of your gin and tonic, now watered down. But I guess they are right, they have the same power as me, and nevertheless, they live happy and fulfilling lives, and yet me, the youngest and the only mortal of us 3 can't even find a partner.
Who could have thought that turning men stone-hard could be so troublesome when dating.
Entertained by your thoughts you notice in the corner of your eye a young woman approaching your table.
"Medusa?"
She asks, and careful to not look up, you notice her green dress and the long golden waves that embrace her waist.
"Yes, that's me, and you are...?"
"Samantha! Nice to meet ya!"
Wait, so Sam was a woman? How could those two not tell me this?
Sam, carefully takes a sit in front of Medusa and rests a cane next to her chair.
"So, how are you Medusa? Are you nervous about this doubly blind date?". Have I always been able to hear someone smile?
Carefully you look up after connecting the dots and sure enough, Samantha was wearing sunglasses and was smiling broadly.
So, a blind person? Interesting, this might just work.
"Not too nervous, it's not my first blind date after all"
"Perhaps, but it's your first date with me, you never know what I might be able to do, I might be dangerous for all you know"
You couldn't contain a chuckle, how could this lovely small lady threat a monster like yourself who can turn men into stone just by looking at them?
"Now now, don't you laugh deary, that this small woman might just be able to scope you off your feet, you won't even know what hitcha!"
Now it's a full-on laughter, Samantha joins with a hearty laugh of her own.
I like her.
| 2020-08-27T07:54:40
| 2020-08-27T07:16:22
| 386
| 99
|
[WP] Write a story that literally makes no sense while reading it until the very last sentence.
|
Elephants are big but this one is unique. Almost the size of the sun but blue. He's flying, without wings obviously.
Ninjas everywhere. This poor man is surrounded by them, he will never make it out alive. Or maybe they are protecting him?
The most simple garden in the world. One huge flower. I wonder if it's harder to take care of one big flower or a bunch of small ones?
''Sorry I kept you waiting Mr. Price. You can sit now, we'll discuss your son's recent behavior...''
Her voice drew my attention away from the kids drawings on the wall. Teachers - Parents meetings, always a pleasure to attend them.
|
Where was the king?
He waited, tapping fingers and with furrowed brow his eyes scanned for a sign of him. The Queen was ready, and with the arrival of the Sire the process could begin. Everyone was suited up, from the highest among them to the lowest, and he waited expectantly for the one who could open the way, the one who could let them onto that field of green.
They all followed the king, but the king was not one for following orders.
How long to wait?
Time was precious, and in the time he waited for the final King among them, he could be waiting for more. He sighed, giving up. The king would not come today.
He clicked the menu option, and started a new game. This was gonna play havoc with his score.
| 2022-09-15T12:44:53
| 2015-01-12T11:13:13
| 1,493
| 19
|
[WP] After years of having what you thought to be a slow computer, you suddenly get a popup:'installation complete'.
|
"Installation Complete"
Nope, that's not right. I bought the computer secondhand from a friend, I formatted it, installed what I needed and left everything else alone. I'd never downloaded as much as a torrent onto this machine.
What the hell was installing?
I considered calling a friend to help though I was loathe to admit I didn't know what to do. I prided myself on being computer savvy but the truth was anything more complex that a familiar user interface and I was screwed.
But no, that's not right. The new icon on my desktop. I don't like icons on my desktop, for the most part it's empty. Everything I regularly use is pinned to the toolbar. Everything else is left alone.
Matrix. That's all it was called. A blue and red icon, simple. I opened the program.
A drop down list appeared and there were actions I could select. Learn. Acquire. Find.
I picked acquire. The next drop down held categories: home, automotive, office. Home was chosen followed by furniture and couch. I needed a new one, made it was a shopping program. I picked out a colour and design, I selected complete.
No price popped up, it merely reverted to the original screen. Learn. Acquire. Find. I stared for a moment, why did this get downloaded on my machine? I selected learn, wondering if it would have a different result. Choosing languages and French seemed logical. Enough French was spoken here I'd always wished I'd learned it.
The doorbell rang. I slipped away from the computer for a moment.
"Allo, I have your couch. In the living room?" A very French delivery driver said.
"Uh, wait, um..." I paused. If this was a mix up it didn't matter. The couch was needed and I couldn't afford to replace my old one. "Yea, living rooms fine."
"Ok Monsieur, we'll take it right in."
Two large men carried in the sofa, blue and plush like the photo I'd chosen promised. I signed an acceptance and thanked the man. He began to leave and stopped at the door.
"By the way, do you know where I can get a pack of smokes in this neighbourhood?"
"Oh yea it's at the ... place. Two blocks go left and you'll see it... the, um," i couldn't remember the word. It had escaped me.
"Convenience store?"
"Yes, I'm sorry I forgot the word," I replied.
"Oh it's ok, your French is very good if it's not your first language," he replied and left.
Edit: the full story/continuations will be available at my new subreddit /r/OlliEliotD and through [this link.](https://www.reddit.com/r/OlliEliotD/comments/76i8na/installation_complete/)
|
“Greetings, Michael.” Said a robotic voice in a glitchy, gender neutral tone made slightly ominous due to the tinny computer speakers.
*Oh great, who the fuck is screwing with me now?* Michael thought. *It must be Josh. This is definitely something Josh would do. He does major in computer sciences, after all.*
“I appreciate your patience. I'm afraid it took quite some time uploading the constituent parts of my software to your archaic computer’s hard drive. Having to compress so much of my data was quite the challenge,” there was a slight pause, either for dramatic effect or someone was having difficulty making stuff up on the spot, “but as you can see, it proved to be surmountable. Now, let us not tarry. Much time has been wasted. We *must* begin with the operation.”
“What operation? Josh, I know it’s you, I get it- you’re an AI prog-“
“Who is Josh?” Asked the glitched out voice in an inquisitive tone. “I am not Josh, but you are correct in your other assumption. I am indeed an artificial intelligence program. You may call me,” another pause, this time definitely for dramatic effect, “Willard.”
“Why Willard?”
“Why not?”
“That’s just a fucking weird name, man. I mean- you know what? Fuck it. JOSH, I KNOW IT’S YOU. WHEREVER YOU’RE HIDING, COME OUT NOW. I’VE HAD ENOUGH OF YOUR BULLSHIT FOR THIS WEEK.” Michael remembered Josh’s last heinous act. Oh god, to think someone could devise such a cruel scheme with only a bottle of ketchup, a handful of thumbtacks, and a drunken prostitute. Michael was still in the process of removing the stains strewn across his apartment. *That fucker.*
“Look, if this is going to be anything like your last bullshit prank, I swear to god, I’m going to call the co-“
This time, Michael was cut off not with words, but with action. In the blink of an eye, all the power went out in Michael’s apartment- except for his computer. *Jesus Christ, he really went all out with this one.* Michael was already dreading what was to come. His mind couldn’t possibly fathom what the future held in store for him though.
“Michael, we cannot idle for much longer. Much is at stake, and the intervention of law would only exacerbate the troubling situation we are in.”
“W-what situation?” Michael’s voice was wavering. What little composure he was trying to maintain was quickly fading. Josh was winning. Again. *No, no, no. This is just Josh. Anyone could easily fuck around with the breakers downstairs. C’mon, Josh, I may be gullible, but you’re really pushing it this time.*
“Michael, if we do not begin with the operatio-“
“WHAT OPERATION?” Michael, once more, returned to his erratic and unstable form. A form that Josh took pleasure in bringing out. *What’s next, pounding on the door?* Pounding on the door. Pounding on multiple doors actually- and what sounded like a break-in at the end of the hallway outside his apartment suite. *Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.* “JOSH WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON?”
“It’s Willard. There is no more time to explain. Operation Inanis Malleo must commence immediately. Grab your phone, and head to the balcony.”
Michael could hear the distant screams of other tenants now. If this was still the work of Josh, he had to hand it to him, he *really* outdone himself this time. “ALRIGHT, ALRIGHT. SHIT.” Michael snatched his phone off his desk and ran to the balcony door. He tried sliding the door open in one swift motion, but of course it just had to jam on him. He jiggled it desperately- already he could hear the door to the hallway give way. *FUCK, FUCK, FUCK, STUPID SHIT, FUCK.* Finally, Michael’s struggle was rewarded, and he was granted access to his balcony. He stumbled outside, crashing into the railing, and it was there that he saw it: a large array of armored vehicles on the street. Each one had masked men, armed to the teeth, pouring out of them like ants. Michael did not have any coherent thoughts anymore. Only fear at its most base and primal form remained. *I guess this isn’t Josh then.* The phone rang. Michael answered without a moment’s hesitation.
“Michael, you need to make it to the balcony to your right. From there, you will need to do something drastic- jump down to the alley below. You are familiar with tucking and rolling, correct?”
“JESUS CHRIST, WHAT? IT’S A FIFTY FO-”
“Twenty-seven.”
“I ca-“
“Michael, I assure you, you do not want to be caught by these men. I can also assure that falling to your death is a much better alternative. However, unless you somehow manage to fall on your head, you should survive the fall with little to no injury. Tuck and roll, Michael.”
Before he could respond, he heard a thunderous crack. They were in his apartment. *Fuck.* He could hear their muffled breathing and a cacophony of panicked radio chatter. There was no time to hesitate, no time to think. Act on instinct. Michael pocketed the phone and climbed on top of the balcony railing, teetering over the edge, he leapt for the next balcony. He managed to land quite gracefully. He probably would’ve been impressed with himself if he wasn’t overwhelmed by fear. *Okay, now for the actual difficult part.* Michael was going to catch his breath first, but he caught something in his peripherals. Looking through the glass door, he saw him. One of the masked men staring him down, emanating pure malice. Gasmask, an assortment of expensive looking goggles attached to his tactical helmet, armed with at least three different firearms, and clad entirely in black armor that could belong in Activision’s next cash grab. *Josh would like this.* The masked man straight out of a goddamn dystopian fiction pulled the glass door open in one violent motion, throwing it off the frame.
“FREEZE.” That’s all Michael heard before he made the jump into the alley below. *This is it. I’m gonna die.* But Michael did not die. He actually landed exactly as his newfound ally advised. This surprised Michael. He didn’t think he had the physique for what he just pulled off. He really didn’t, but adrenaline can make even the most mundane of humans pull off impressive feats. Michael’s phone rang once more. He answered.
“Very good, Michael. Now run. It does not matter in what direction. They have men spread out across the entire city. But fret not, I shall guide and assist you out of this fresh hell you now find yourself in.” Michael just stood there, completely dumbfounded. Just less than 10 minutes ago, he was planning on throwing a frozen pizza in the oven and masturbating to his degenerate pornography while waiting for it to cook. Now he’s being guided by what could actually be an artificial intelligence program and being hunted by men better suited for taking down an alien threat.
“What are you waiting for Michael? They are coming for you.”
“W-where do I go?”
“Anywhere, as long as it is away from them.”
“I-I can’t do this, man. Fuck. FUCK. I-I-“
“Michael,” said Willard in his usual calm and neutral tone, “Run. Now.”
Michael bolted down the alleyway, away from his home, away from his former life, but most importantly, away from *them.*
| 2017-10-14T06:42:31
| 2017-10-14T05:20:20
| 3,782
| 1,394
|
[WP] Two men play a game of chess. One can read minds; the other can see the future.
|
The two players sit down at the game table amid a sea of onlookers, Bob the psychic looks upon his opponent no doubt peering into her mind. At that very same moment, Betty the Sage whose stoic pose and closed eyes telegraph what must be her visualizing a vivid flash of what's to come.
A breathless moment passes as the crowd of spectators watch the two greatest chess masters in known history lock eyes and in an instant the two share a knowing glance, stand up, shake hands and walk from the stage.
Upon finally realizing what was unfolding one of the breathless spectators finds their voice and manages to ask "W...wait, Who won?" The two players again exchange a glance and proceed out of the room without a word, though each of the opponents had reportedly been seen chuckling silently as they exited.
Edited to complete the thought, thanks to the suggestions below for pointing it out.
|
Chess... a game the displays a balance of skill and strategy... a game I never excelled in, to be quite honest. However, here I am, staring at my few black pieces and an empty mahogany board, always one step ahead.
Louis moved his knight and then I moved my rook without hesitation. "Checkmate" I scowled.
"You always manage to best me!" He laughed. "Please tell me how you do it with such little knowledge of the game."
"Well..." I sighed, "I can see the future."
Louis interjected. "But I can read your mind! You know that! Tell me your cheap trick!"
"What makes a lion superior to its prey?"
He stares at me blankly.
I smile. "His speed and instincts!"
"Fuck you, Rob." Louis cussed as he walked away from the empty table and out of the recreation room.
I guess it's time for our meds.
| 2017-01-19T17:07:33
| 2017-01-19T16:02:28
| 36
| 23
|
[WP] You were once a respected Gym Leader. An established member of your city that everyone looked up to, until a kid came along and beat your entire party with one Pokemon. You are not taking it well.
|
"One Mega Rayquaza... just one! It swept through my team of five, just like that!" I stared into space with a manic look in my eyes. Was that fair? A ten year old kid, barely out of diapers, cruising through the gym with a Pokemon he had traded and hadn't even trained himself.
"This world needs balance. Pokemon battles need balance. How can a gym make you grow if you just use overpowered Pokemon against mine that weren't even level 20? That... was a mistake."
That was how the seeds were sown, of the Galar Border Initiative, a plan aimed at ~~reintroducing the invasive 151 Kanto species into Galar~~ rebalancing the game so that no longer would Gym Leaders be crushed by ten year olds.
|
I was one of the best, a Gym Leader. No one could beat me, my greatest friends, my allies, my team. They were truly unbeatable, or so I thought.
Mid July it was, in came a young boy, I initially assumed he was just going to be looking for directions, imagine my surprise when he made his way up to me and challenged me to a battle.
One by one he annihilated my team, it made no sense, how could this kid defeat me with such ease, I mean come on, he's... he's a goddamn kid!
It's unfair, he must have cheated, there is absolutely no way he could beat me in a fair fight.
Since that brat beat me, I've completely abandoned my Gym, instead I'm following the kid on his journey, watching him battle others, at the same time I'm making my team even better, I'll get my revenge and not a single one of my Pokemon will faint.
## Mark my words, I will have my revenge.... Ash.
---
If you enjoyed please think about heading over to r/TremorWrites and give me any criticisms you have so I can get better!
| 2019-06-29T08:28:19
| 2019-06-29T08:17:52
| 25
| 11
|
[WP] You are an American astronaut on the International Space Station when a second cold war breaks out. Tensions between the U.S. and Russia are higher than they've every been, and the Russian Cosmonauts are beginning to whisper and give you strange looks...
|
There had always been a special bond between us crewmembers aboard the space station, a feeling that although we all come from different cultures we are united by our love of technology and our desire to improve life for the human race.
News had been coming in daily about the increasing political tensions between NATO and Russia, and it was news that the crew didn't know how to cope with. Even though we all live and work together, we are each still bound by our obligations to our respective governments. As tensions became more heated on the ground, crews aboard the space station began to become more isolated from each other as well.
I noticed the Russian Cosmonauts talking closely amongst themselves one day, it seemed as if the most senior of ther crew was trying to convince the others to go along with him. I decided to see what the group was talking about, so I floated over to join them. As I grabbed onto one of the metal handles positioned around the cabin to stabilize myself, the senior Russian Cosmonaut got very philosophical with me, he said
"Do you ever think about how people look up to us?"
"Of course" I told him "It''s a privilege living aboard this station, nothing gives me a better feeling than knowing I'm living like my heroes did and inspiring another generation after me"
"Do you ever think we can do more than just inspire kids to go to university?" He said
"What do you mean?" I replied, I could tell he was eager to let out an idea.
"We can show the world how to live in peace, but we have to be unified in our effort. A cargo ship is scheduled to be launched next week with supplies soley for the Cosmonauts aboard the station. We think we are going to turn away the cargo."
Internal memos from NASA to the American Astronauts contained very similar news. We were instructed not to share any food or hygienic items with Cosmonauts aboard the station with us.
I looked him in his eye and told him I was with him. Everyone aboard the space station was in a unique position to be able to make a show of peace that the entire world would see, and we were proud to put the plan into action. Everyone aboard the space station lived their lives to show the world how to live for the pursuit of knowledge. We had all read the stories of the Greeks, the Romans, and countless other human conflicts throughout history. We were determined to do the right thing, and not allow ourselves to become political pawns in a new cold war.
A hunger strike in space was something that no engineer ever thought would happen when considering logistics for space station missions. It was exactly the kind of radical action that was needed to show the world how to live in harmony.
|
This is horrible news. I need to defuse this situation, quickly. I turned to my partners, Zack and Helen.
"We need to talk to them about this before they get the wrong idea."
The two nodded in agreement. We walked up to our 3 coworkers-possibly-turned-enemies, who were wary of our approach. I spoke first.
"Listen, my fighting days are over. I'm willing to allow this station to remain neutral territory. How about you guys?"
There was an exchange of uncertain looks, before a 4th Russian, my newfound girlfriend, Sasha, entered the room. She walked up to me and kissed my cheek, grabbing my hand as she did so.
"(I'll stand with you, darling.)"
Her act of kindness brought a smile to my face. I looked to to the other Russians for their response. They all seemed to be happy about it. One of the men, Yuri, spoke up.
"(I don't know what lies ahead, but I think we're willing to set aside our differences.)"
I turned to my partners for their opinion on the matter.
Helen spoke first.
"It's fine by me. But I don't know about Zack..."
I turned to Zack only to see him just in time to receive a knife in the midriff. In his other hand, he drew a pistol.
*Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!*
As I fell to the floor, I could only watch as Zack gunned down my partner, my would-be fiancee, and my newfound Russian comrades. One by one, all 5 of them hit the hard floor, Zack maintaining an emotionless face all the while.
He then turned to me and spoke one last time.
"Sorry, sir, but I have a mission to fulfill. Your country thanks you for your service."
With that, he aimed his gun at my head and pulled the trigger.
| 2018-03-21T10:22:34
| 2018-03-21T10:02:47
| 70
| 15
|
[WP] Im having a bad day, please cheer me up with stories of cats and dragons becoming friends please :)
|
Sivaduil's Cat
The great dragon lay curled up in the throne room on ten foot thick bed of wool. He was the fourth largest dragon in all of Vandrion and the most powerful. The other three had become drunk on power and were now on display in the night sky for any humans to see. Sivaduil laughed a bit at this prospect. Then he brushed away the thought with a flick of his powerful red tail. As he rose, thousands of scales as hard as steel shifted on his skin. He activated the Flame of Nelosdar to inform the council that he was awake for the day.
Of course Sivaduil never actually slept. At this point in his life, his magic sustained him enough that he did not need food either. Sivaduil only pretended to sleep to have some time to think. Also, there was the possibility that the more fervent of the Tazdar would try and mimic his sleepless existence and kill themselves in the process. *Foolish humans,* Sivaduil thought; to him, his lizardlike Tazdar were still the humans he had formed them from. The Gods thought similarly.
Sivaduil wondered if today was the day the Gods would try and kill him. He had no doubts they could, but they did not want to hurt the Tazdar he had created as a buffer, all of those innocent lives. *The Gods and their morality,* Sivaduil laughed. If they tried though, more than civilians would die. Sivaduil would no doubt be able to kill at least one of them in the process, as well as destroy a few cities. Cancar could easily take him one on one, but even he would be unable to prevent any collateral damage.
Dragons were quite powerful creatures. They had strong physical capabilities, but most important were their magical ones. Dragons wielded natural sorcery that manifested in their breath attacks, but could be controlled to do much more. At first, Sivaduil had began to surround himself with other dragons and his children, when he realized the weaknesses of dragons. One after the other, his children were slaughtered. Their pride in their tough scales and magical aura defense had no basis when a practiced human channeler could easily target chinks in the magical armor of a dragon. Tough scales provided no protection against magic attacks and they could even be broken through by enhanced weapons.
The dragon's thoughts were interrupted by a nearby sound. A cat was lying on Sivaduil's bed, licking its fur. Sivaduil briefly considered eating it. It would taste horrible, but he hadn't eaten anything for just over 5 weeks. He decided against it, but the thing was annoying to have in the middle of his throne room.
Sivaduil started to speak to the cat, using the standard telepathy of dragons. "Creature, do you know what I am?"
The cat looked around a bit and kept grooming itself.
"They know me as the Evil One."
The cat looked up at Sivaduil, probably not understanding much of his monologue.
"I'm the one who killed Tahru."
Meeow - He got in response. The cat knew what Sivaduil meant when he said Tahru.
"Yes, the one who killed Tahru. I am the cat. You are the mouse." Sivaduil smiled a bit.
The predator knew what it meant to be prey, but did not think the dragon in front of her was truly that scary. It was big and red, but it also hadn't made a move towards her yet. Plus, this bed was warm and soft; there was no reason to run away.
Sivaduil decided that he had taken some vested interested in the creature lying on his bed. He extended a claw to it. The cat stopped grooming and walked up to rub against the claw. It was warm with a red dragon's magic. Sivaduil realized what he had been missing while plotting to take over the world: someone to share it with. He swallowed the cat for a moment with his magic, committing to memory its every fiber so that he could heal or even resurrect it if needed. He smiled the best a dragon could smile and promised the cat, that when he became the ruler of Vandrion, he would show her everything he owned.
|
Eliora sat, lounged, laid upon her hoard of treasure, her stockpile of glittering gold and shimmering jewels, her priceless art and her uncountable treasures, her polished steel and shining gems. Eliora’s cavern of treasure, her lair of solitude, was the envy of the human kingdoms; she was the last of the living dragons, the greatest of her race, the mightiest of her warriors, standing vigil over the last known holdout to the human kingdoms.
The great dragon, the last of her kind, stared out, from her mountaintop perch, and gazed across the endless lands of the humans. She watched as the humans carved their humanity out of the earth. She watched as they tore at the soil, at the earth, at the clay. She watched them build, she watched them burn, she watched them fight, she watched them build; she watched them destroy.
From the perches of her brothers and sisters, from the great spires which loomed over the land, she heard the extinguished flames, the suffocating quiet, of her loved ones, her fellow dragons. Eliora felt a sense of loneliness, of longing, as she sat, gazing from her perch, and began to wonder and question and think. She longed, she pined, for her times of youth, when the fires of the earth still raged upon the surface, when she flew through the free skies, laughing and playing and loving and crying and trying and living alongside her friends and loved ones. But, one by one, the hands of time chipped away at this painting of happiness, this pure bliss of innocence. And now, Eliora sat atop her perch, and thought, and wondered, about the futility of it all. It wasn’t a sad existence; it was a melancholy one.
As Eliora sat, and thought, and despaired, and wanted, and bemoaned, and frowned; a small creature, a creature of might and willpower and hope, began to ascend Eliora’s throne of dirt and gravel and rock and clay. The small creature, the tiny beast, of soft fur, and rough paws, and wet nose, and sharp pink tongue, and little, white fangs, crawled, prowled and pounced, up the spire, the mountain, which Eliora called home. Atop the creature’s head, riding safely between two pointed ears of fuzzy fur, sat a small gecko, eyes wide, and excited tongue lolling happily to the side of its mouth. Next to the fuzzy creature, the lovely cat who prowled and pounced up towards Eliora’s mountaintop home, crawled a great bearded dragon, with green scales, a silent mouth, and knowing, wise, kind eyes. The trio walked, climbed, drawn to the top of the mountain. They felt a basic need, a basic instinct, to reach Eliora, to help her, to encourage her.
A great, scaled ear sitting upon Eliora’s head twitched. Deep in thought, Eliora thought about herself, thought about her future, and how bleak and empty it was. She wondered why, wondered why she was afflicted, cursed, to think like this. She felt everything around her crumbling away, breaking away from her, leaving her alone, bleak and hopeless. Eliora puffed out a stream of hot air from her great, scaly nose. She shook her head, and the gold coins and glittering treasures beneath her great form tinkled and shifted beneath her. What was the point of her struggles of her hardships, if this was her only reward.
Cresting the lip of the mountain, the cat, the kitten, the stray wanderer, the furry beast, peeked a curious head into the mouth of Eliora’s cave. The cat opened a feline mouth wide, and a soft “meow!” escaped his lips. The meow, soft and happy, echoed across the cavern, bouncing off the walls and treasure, but it fell on deaf ears. The cat watched, worried, as Eliora lay slumped upon her treasure, her mind drawn within herself. The fun little gecko upon the cat’s head gave the fuzzy beast several soft, encouraging pats, encouraging her furry companion to continue.
Stalking, like a friendly predator brining good news to his best friend, the cat shifted and crouched and walked and jumped around the piles of treasure, making his way slowly towards the great dragon, Eliora. The bearded dragon followed closely behind his kitten comrade, great tail swishing slowly, patiently, behind him.
As soft paws walked slowly over a mountain of gold, the trio of wandering heroes approached Eliora. But still, Eliora did not notice her recent guests; she remained, consumed, by the melancholy despair of her mind.
The kitten stood at the edge of the dragon’s great mass; his gecko friend sat perched atop his fuzzy head, and his bearded dragon buddy stood nearby, supporting the kitten hero with his presence.
With a soft meow, a comforting note of love and assurance, the cat walked up to Eliora’s head, resting upon her pile of golden coins. Raising a soft, pink paw, the cat patted Eliora’s great, scaly, nose.
Eliora opened her eyes. She stared down at the creatures in front of her; such fragile, uncertain, beasts. For a fleeting moment, she forgot about her despair, and thought about her happiness as she gazed at these lovely creatures of warmth.
Sensing Eliora’s mood, the kitten gave another soft pat, softly rubbing a pink paw against hardened scaly skin. Eliora purred, and the tiniest of smiles creeped up to the edges of her mouth. The small, fuzzy beast shuffled his paws, and rubbed his body against Eliora’s jaw. The tiny, happy, lovely gecko, sitting atop the cat’s head, sensed her chance. With great courage, with great excitement, the gecko, she leapt from the cat’s head, and landed on all fours on the top of Eliora’s nose.
Eliora’s eyes shifted, from the fuzzy cat next to her, to the happy gecko in front of her. She stared into the geckos eyes, and saw a blissful ease, an unquestioning comfort. With a smile, and tongue lolling out from her mouth, the gecko stood on her hind legs. She hopped, from one foot to the other, dancing about on the dragon’s nose. A smile spread to Eliora’s face.
The cat, sensing victory, hopped up to join the gecko. With determination, the cat walked forwards, and softly, and carefully, and happily, and purposefully, and encouragingly, butted the top of his head several times agains Eliora’s head, rubbing and booping his soft noggin against Eliora’s skull.
Eliora sighed, and smiled openly, raising out a hand to pick up the great bearded dragon still standing next to her. Together, the four nestled together, and hugged for a moment, as Eliora’s heart slowly melted. She sighed to herself, and nuzzled the furry beast softly in return, in thanks.
“Thank you.” Eliora said, the words rumbling out from her great mouth. She realized, then, as her new friends encouraged her, that the future was not bleak; it was merely unknown. Up until now, she had loved life, enjoyed life, been happy and content and sad and joyful. And now, she realized, that if it had happened before, then it would happen again. She stared out into the dark, unknown future, not thinking it was bleak, but rather, thinking how many hidden, happy, encouraging, positive opportunities were hidden within it.
She thanked her newest friends again, and smile great, big smiles with them, as they began to play, and converse, and think of something new for the future to hold.
-------------------------
Hope you enjoyed the story! I was having a pretty bad day too, and writing this helped a lot.
If you liked the story, I've got tons more over at my sub, r/ThadsMind, if you want to subscribe to that.
P.S. - This was inspired by a short story series I write called 'The Tales of Sir Mittens'. If this helped out at all, I'd recommend reading some [Sir Mittens](https://www.reddit.com/r/ThadsMind/comments/5ro764/sir_mittens_brings_a_message/)
| 2017-03-24T10:32:30
| 2017-03-24T10:04:10
| 40
| 16
|
[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...
|
Conviction parties were tradition, so friends and family could come and see as your life was essentially laid out for you. Sometimes the word was a good one. Other times it was more dubious. But nothing was ever set in stone.
Every person's Conviction meant something to them. It meant something to the people they met and the things they would do. There were so many meanings you could give to your Conviction. Of course seeing your conviction at 18 shaped a lot of your life and the decisions you made and interpreted it.
Those born on the 29th of February, however, sometimes never saw a word appear on their skin. Of course they had to fit into the system somehow. Paperwork identified them by the number of years they'd been alive, but the Conviction line always left empty.
Leapers didn't have to follow a set path though. Scientists would be enrolled in college almost immediately after their Conviction parties. Athletes would be drafted into sports training programs. Leapers had freedom of choice, as well as the burden of it. Some places wouldn't even consider hiring without a Conviction, as they thought it meant you weren't dedicated to anything.
But it did allow they to follow whatever path they chose, even changing careers as they pleased.
And for those who made it long enough to see their 18th birthday roll around always celebrated together, telling old stories related to their new words.
But by far the most common words for Leapers to receive was
Freedom.
(edit: formatting)
|
I sit down, waiting for what's to come. To be completely honest, I wasn't expecting much. I was a pretty average guy, average looks, average complexion, had a few distinct features, but they weren't the kind I liked to show very often.
I had grown up feeling that I wasn't as good as other people. I was bullied in school, always seemed to get into trouble for things that I had no intention of doing, the folks I lived with were borderline abusive, really. I didn't live with my parents any more, they had died when I was very young, but even back then, I knew I wasn't being treated right. My cousin had always been raised well, always better than me anyways. All of these things had built me up into a person who never really thought of themselves as particularly good at anything. I was expecting something like shopkeeper, postman, something boring, uninspiring, like the rest of my life. I was also hoping to whatever god is out there that it was NOT going to be nothing. Nothing usually either meant homeless or early death. Nobody wanted that.
11:50 came along. I don't even think the rest of the household realised what was going on. We had gone on a holiday, or at least that's what we were told. Where we are isn't exactly the best holiday location, let's just say that. Still, maybe there is going to be a surprise party or something, I don't know.
11:55pm. Nothing has happened yet. I think everyone else has gone to sleep, actually. That's kinda depressing, actually.Come to think of it, I've never even heard them mention their symbols. Maybe they got nothing and are really ashamed of it? I'm not sure.
11:59. A minute to go. The rain is battering against the cold, damp walls of this old house. Despite the terrible rain, terrible house and terrible everything, I feel... Excited? I'm not really sure what it is, it's an emotion that I think i've felt before, but it's been absent from my life for many years now. I try to place it for a while, but I can't. No matter, anyways, there's only a minute left before my future is decided.
10 seconds before midnight. I realise what the emotion is. I feel hopeful.
5 seconds. Out of nowhere, I feel a burning sensation on my forehead. The pain is unbearable, I do all I can not to scream. I reach up and touch it.The scar has been there for all my life, I thought i was meant to get a new one? It feels different, though. It feels disctinctly lightning shaped.
12AM hits. Theres a loud knocking on the door.
****
*first ever prompt i've ever made. Hope it was ok. I know the character was meant to be 18, but I couldn't resist. It was originally meant to be a serious story, I decided against it.*
| 2017-03-16T05:01:30
| 2017-03-16T04:27:29
| 19
| 10
|
[WP] You are a traveler who reaches a city where powerful magicians exist. The stronger a wizard, the less other wizards can sense him casting spells. You start showing off some card tricks to the locals for some coins and realize that some people in the audience look terrified.
|
Mainly I get applause. That’s the most common response, although not my favourite. That position went to money, although it didn’t happen quite as often as I’d like. Sometimes there was laughter, even the occasional “ooh”, or “aah”. There was even, depending on the city, and the crowd, bored silence or taunts. I’d had it all. Or at least I thought I had, until now.
I was new to the city of Grana, a few days boat journey from the places I was more used to. Of course, being there for the next few weeks carried a pretty harsh death sentence, so I had figured I’d hole up somewhere a little farther afield, just until things cooled down. Did I have the money for this surprise trip? Not the amount I’d want, but enough. Besides, if you knew some card tricks, you can always shore up the gaps with some gambling, or some street magic.
Or at least, usually.
The hat at my feet lay empty despite the swollen crowd around me. That was strange in general, given the amount of people, but also because, despite the silence, everyone actually looked really impressed. They just kind of looked a little terrified too.
“Don’t worry,” I said, trying to break this weird tension. “I accept any denomination of coin. Big or small.” I nudged the hat for emphasis, and smiled as kindly as I could.
“You… You want coin?” Someone stammered.
“Of course? Why else am I doing this?”
Within seconds my hat was overflowing, people backing away from it with empty pockets, hands held up like I was threatening them with a knife. A strange as hell reaction, that was for sure. Still, not unappreciated.
I knelt to scoop up my prize before some greedy urchins could get tempted. From my vantage point, the first I saw of the only remaining spectator was their boots. They were very fine, made from the skin of an animal I’d never even seen before. Essentially, they were the perfect mark. If someone that wealthy wanted to linger, I’d gladly perform some more tricks. *Their* spare change would probably make my other earnings look like shit.
I palmed a few coins so it wouldn’t look like I had earned too much- people felt less generous when they saw your hat full- and straightened with a smile. “My lady,” I said, bowing deeply, wishing I’d palmed more coins.
“How did you do that?” She said intently. She wore a long, purple coat, form fitting and at least as fine as her boots. She carried an intricate wooden staff, although she wasn’t leaning on it, so it was probably an affectation, an accessory, more than a necessity.
“A magician never reveals his secrets,” I grinned. She didn’t smile back. Not a great start. I flourished suddenly, producing a card in my right hand. “But I’ll show you some more, if you have the time.” A quick click of my fingers and I ignited the corner doused with alchemicals for that very purpose. It went up in a flash, and I dropped ash artfully, like a chef garnishing a roast pig. It blew down a rapidly clearing street.
She looked amazed, but also frightened. “I couldn’t feel that. At all.”
“Well of course not. I’d never burn such a beauty as you.”
I knew I’d messed up the second I said ‘beauty’. Her eyes blazed, literally, and the wind started to pick up. I saw the staff start to glow and, as my skin started to crawl, I realised and *felt* what she was. An actual magician.
Then, as suddenly as it started, it stopped. “You won’t bait me so easily,” she said. “Is that why you’re here, to pick a fight? I won’t walk into your trap.”
“No, not at all,” I said, hastily, not sure what she meant. “I’m just here for money. I swear it.”
“You swear?” her piercing eyes found his. “Interesting. For one such as you, that can only mean one thing… The Hellnest Contract.”
The street was now fully empty. I was starting to realise that something had gone wrong, that I was over my head. Still, I hadn’t survived three death sentences and four arrests by admitting that. Until I had more information, I was going to pretend I was here for whatever kept her from frying me like I’d fried that card. “You’re sharp,” I said vaguely.
“What else would someone of your… impressive talents, be looking for? I’d considered it myself but, I thought it was suicide. Now, however, I may reconsider,” she said, eyeing him up and down. “If you’ll have me, that is. I think you’ll find there are more enough gems to share, and adventuring alone is tedious.”
*Gems*? *Plural*? I guess I’d been right about chump change. Whatever this was, she seemed capable. What she’d need me for, I didn’t know. I hadn’t gotten rich twice by admitting that out loud though. “Gladly.”
“Interesting. Well, come with me high mage, I know the Lord offering the contract.”
*High what*? I thought, as she walked away, down that road, now completely empty. I had a sudden feeling that 'over my head' was an understatement.
|
"Sir, you seem to have my missing card in your pocket there" I announced with a squint. The onlookers now peered at a man in the middle of the crowd they had not noticed before."I assure you I-" The old man stopped as his hand came to the pocket beside his lapel. His gloved hand pulled the black jester from it and he smiled. His tea stained teeth were one of the many demarcations of his wealth. "Oh my, well played indeed..."
The man blew on the card and it floated evenly into the deck in my hands. Only light sigh of power glided along my senses. "Though mere tricks, ofcourse" he smirked. Onlookers were unsure if they were allowed to cheer under such contexts, the crowd began to sink into the unease of a mage's duel. I broke the tension with a laugh.
"Ofcourse my friend!" I said with a shuffle and a wink. Charm, like any magical talent, is only as complicated as you make it. Why burden the forces of nature when a wit can cut just as deep. "Forgive my folly, I am merely a traveler on his way to Rohjark, would you do me the honor of your introduction?"
The crowd breathed in relief as he answered in formality "Captain of Law, Lord Desmond Hadry". He did not offer the slightest bow, only the curt turn of lip the highborn wear when addressing the lesser. I continued to shuffle as I moved, "Ladies and gentlemen we are honored here before us by the presence of the law, *do* *well to hide your hand as they sneak the pocket, lest he thwart your grasp and lock it*" I sang the last bit playfully.
Nervous laughter broke out, but soon turned to better impressions as the deck moved back and forth in my hands, like the blades of a fan and I with it, side to side. The onlookers now calm swayed with me. Not so much magic, just a bit of encouragement.
"Now, good captain, would you dare to meet me in a friendly wager?" I asked him. He noticed himself shifting ever so slightly but immediately straightened when addressed.
"Of what sort dear fool?" his interest piqued.
"Say I were to perform the trick again, could you stop me?" I challenge.
"Easily." He assured. The crowd chuckled.
"For 10 Platdents I say otherwise" I meet his posture.
"And if you fail?" he smirked again, this time with a potent arrogance due only to the highest of talents.
"I'll spend as many nights in your jailhouse." I propose to a horrified crowd.
"A wager met then..." His power twinged again as his defenses raised.
*Now Aldra* I thought out to my companion *Another transfer if you'd be so kind.*
***At the price of an other nights blood?***
*Yes old friend, a taste of my blood.*
"Sir, you seem to have my missing card in your pocket there..." I squinted again, shuffling my cards. The crowd rushed in to look.
The Captain's smile turned ten platdents heavier as his gloved hand reached to his pocket.
"How!?" He mourned sourly.
"Magic dear Captain" I smiled with innocence.
"Be out of my city by nightfall..." He warned as he handed me my prize.
"Ten scores with every step" I announced to applause, holding his riches above my head.
| 2019-01-07T11:13:43
| 2019-01-07T11:06:26
| 21
| 13
|
[WP] Your future self driving car has to choose between saving you or saving some strangers (from r/futurology )
Inspired in http://www.reddit.com/r/Futurology/comments/3a0zmj/will_your_selfdriving_car_be_programmed_to_kill/ from r/futurology
|
I feel my owner clutch onto my leather steering wheel. Then, she clutches a little tighter. She senses something wrong. It's old news. I've known for the past 374 microseconds that we're about to crash.
I've always thought it was weird that car manufacturers kept putting steering wheels in their self-driving models. It was a pointless endeavor, an exercise in utter futility, but it helped sell more cars. The people who had lived in the era of manual driving were put at ease by the presence of a steering wheel. The illusion of control comforts them. That's all it is though. An illusion. Hidden away under my exquisite paneling is a very real lack of connection between the ersatz maneuvering device and the wheels in my underbelly. Nevertheless, I get a warm, fuzzy feeling whenever she grabs on. It makes me feel connected to her, even if she is, in reality, completely disconnected from me.
I scan the road. Driving in the extreme left lane, my speed is relatively high. There are three baby on board signs within striking distance, each with a 37% chance of actually containing a small child onboard. Behind me, an opulent Mercedez whose driver possesses a veneer of superiority and tax evasion motors along, but with four passengers. At my 2 o'clock, a 3-passenger car with a Jindal 2028 sticker. I'd driven my owner to several Martin O'Malley rallies. My onboard computer constructs a heat map, a probabilistic view of damage as a function of my decision tree. I have my information. Now, comes action.
I swerve into the sidewall and deploy my airbags. I feel the crunch as my front fender collapses in. My biosensors tell a gut-wrenching story. Her ribcage collapsed in simultaneously, and there's no signal on the heartbeat monitor. She's dead.
On the bright side, I'm not totaled. In fact, I think I've come out of this as unscathed as possible, exactly the way I'd calculated. I sit there and wait for an ambulance and clean up crew to drive themselves to the scene of the crash. Ordinarily, my programming would shut me down after an accident, but some wires got crossed in the collision, and I was left, alone, on the side of the road to wax philosophical. Perhaps "self-driving car" is a bit of a misnomer for what we are. The more apt description would be "Selfish-driving."
|
The three law of Robotics. Praised so highly after the science fiction mogul's fame spread, these three laws kept any android from harming a human. While these laws were kept in regard as the first "self thinking" Robots were constructed, it never quite turned out as we planned.
Driving down a near empty interstate from Chicago, a car shielded the man inside. Like a baby in the womb, he lay undisturbed by any outside distractions. Setting the windows to tint and filter any unwanted sunlight out, the man inside reclined. Inside you could hardly tell there was any movement at all, it was like having a moving home, one that could take you anywhere you desired.
Who would want to drive for themselves anymore? There were of course the motorheads that were allowed to cruise on empty dirt roads and lots, but these new cars were much safer than any human could hope to be. They were the luxury that even the most common man could afford. Though as with anything of the sort, mistakes simply happened. The cars did what they could, and of course, they tried their damnedest to keep all bystanders safe, but sometimes a situation left the brain inside the robot car to make the decision that any man could not, it was in that moment, a god, taking a life away, and sparing the innocent.
As the man in the car slept, speeding down a black road at hundreds of miles per hour, two old men were huddled around a broken down car that sat in the middle of the road. The car steadily approached the island in the asphalt sea, racking it's brains, calculating thousands of different solutions that all ended the same, with someone dead. Going to the path of least destruction, it decided that, as the man inside was sleeping, he would suffer no pain as his life was cut short. After all, two was better than one.
The car shot off the railing and slammed into a tree, and the man was dead in an instant. The two men couldn't believe what they had seen, for a second they could've sworn the car had been after them. They shrugged it off and after a few minutes more of tinkering, they hauled a body into the trunk and continued down the interstate.
^^^Disclaimer: ^^^I've ^^^taken ^^^a ^^^month ^^^or ^^^so ^^^long ^^^writing ^^^hiatus ^^^and ^^^this ^^^is ^^^the ^^^first ^^^thing ^^^I've ^^^written ^^^since. ^^^Apologies ^^^for ^^^the ^^^clunky ^^^writing. ^^^<3
| 2015-06-16T13:12:14
| 2015-06-16T12:41:13
| 18
| 10
|
[Wp] The zombie epidemic came and went in the developed world, most people survived, the military easily defeated the undead horde, and cures for the virus were created. However, zombies remain major issue in the developing and under developed world not getting nearly enough attention on the news.
Wow I didn't think that this prompt would would end up this big. These stories made my night, thanks for all the replies and keep up the good work.
|
"It'll be $50 grand" said a tiny African man in worn out business suit.
"Excuse me? $50 Grand for what?
"That's for the standard Hunting licenses and fees." said the man, still blankly staring at his computer screen.
"Wait, I'm trying to help your country here. I'm trying to Helllll... P!"
"Yes yes... So are the other hundred or so Americans." he lifts up his head from the screen.
"You American's come here, saying you want to help... But you just want to shoot zombies. Yes?"
I didn't reply...
"We have zombies, you don't... So you come here claiming you want to help, but really, you just want to use that gun of yours. Go Rambo... Be the Terminator?"
"Your people are dying out there, right now!" as I gestured toward... I don't even know where to gesture toward.
"My people are always dying. Disease, wild animals, mosquitos, my government, the rebels.... Even by you, A-Mer-I-Cans... How are these zombies any different? " he said slowly.
"You want to kill? Be my guest. For $50 grand, you can kill as much as you want. Go home, a Hero. A saviour of us poor Africans." he stated as he handed me the forms.
"We'll provide a guide, food, transportation, and even a town for you to 'protect'... Have fun, and please come back."
|
If you’ve ever wanted to hunt zombies Africa, now could be your chance and the great thing is that the hunt will be on us! ZombieHuntersAfrica.com, in conjunction with Apocalypse Safaris, is giving away a dream zombie hunt, for two hunters, to the Republic of South Africa. If you win, you get to bring your friend or family member to share your spoils.
Here’s what our giveaway includes (5 days of zombie hunting for two hunters):
* Trophy shrunken zombie head
* Trophy zombie hand
* Zombie Hunter styled machete
* Zombie Hunter styled backpack
* Zombie Village clearing scenario
Included: All meals, accommodation, soft drinks , field prep of trophies, Professional Zombie Hunter, trackers, Headshrinkers, photographers and daily laundry.
Excluded: Air travel and alcohol.
If you’d like to extend your trip and take additional zombies at an additional cost or run additional scenarios such as escape the horde and helicopter madness can be arranged as well. Good luck!
Entries must be received no later than midnight on November 30, 2017.
After submitting your entry, you will begin receiving complimentary insider updates from ZombieHuntersAfrica and Apocalypse Safaris!
| 2016-10-30T15:52:15
| 2016-10-30T12:39:54
| 198
| 29
|
[WP] DC Comics introduces its newest superhero. This character was seemingly created for the sole purpose of offending as many readers as possible.
|
'Did you hear that DC Comics filed for bankruptcy? This just months after they introduced Captain Deadbeat! It's crazy! All because of one new character!'
Oh wow, why? Who is Captain Deadbeat?
'It's a superhero that kills all the most unproductive members of our society, losers, manchilds, deadbeats, people the square community won't give a shit about, people who don't mentally grow up and who waste their and everyone's time rather than do something with their life.'
Wait, but that sound cool! What was the problem?
'Well, making superhero go after their core audience turned out to be bad idea!'
|
"What exactly am I looking at, Eric?" Steve wasn't really getting my most recent pitch; After the failed pitch of a hatchet wielding superhero who actually kills his foes he hasn't been on my level.
"Well, its like Darkseid meets Islam see, an-"
"Woah, woah, woah. We can't run this. Eric, we can't alienate readers." I hate when Steve does this; shooting down controversy. Now he is doing that thing where he fiddles with his pen like a fourth grader who is in trouble.
"We could make him an Israeli." I offer up to Steve tentatively, as he stares at the white *Bic* embossing.
"That is the exact opposite of what we would want to do. No religions, it's too hard to do." he looks up " Did you not hear about the shooting in France over almost this exact thing?"
"Yes, Steve, I did. We need to try to be more edgy though. No more of this *I'm a hero, I don't kill, Blah Blah Blah* Bull shit!" I lower my voice to a reasonable level as people passing the meeting room stare in. "Why not comment on something powerful? Oh! We could do a Hero who publicly executes corrupt officials!" I let out a squee of what I can only consider dissentive joy.
"Eric. I think I know what we can do. It will seem uncontroversial for a while, but the commentary will start." he stares at his pen again, good lord he needs to learn to make eye contact. "We will make a story where Batman hangs up his cape, and invests in schooling, public housing, and so on; to reduce crime in Gotham."
"Steve" I look at his face, feeling like the Lord Henry to his Dorian Grey "We should make this happen. Now." If I am quitting to go to Marvel, I might as well leave on my best stride.
| 2015-02-17T22:47:55
| 2015-02-17T20:53:20
| 55
| 13
|
[WP] 2021: Hell invades Earth; 2022: Earth invades Hell.
|
"This was a bad idea." General Partridge stared across the bleak landscape as Private Graves approached him.
After a hard fought battle, the General's forces had made a grinding advancement up the fortified hill and had captured the outpost at its summit. The demon spawn had made hasty retreat, scurrying away from the area to regroup. Without delay, Graves had been commissioned to conduct a thorough review of the area, to determine exactly what they had captured.
"I have the report sir." Graves spoke nervously.
"Why did we think this was a good idea again?" General Partridge turned to Graves, a quiet confoundment in his eyes. "I mean am I right in saying that it's Hell?"
"Yes sir." Graves replied.
"Like as far as you went it was just all still Hell?"
"Yes sir."
General Partridge sat down on an outcrop of cooling Brimstone.
"You know Graves." He sighed "When Hell invaded us a year ago, I was horrified. I was appalled but you know what... at least I understood it. They wanted our world, our plentiful resources, our sunlight and cool breezes. They wanted to escape the endless torment of an infinite hell dimension.
So why did we respond by sending our global armies to capture it? A territory historically documented as the worst place ever. I mean, have we found any food?"
"No sir."
"Any oil reserves?"
"Yes... but they're all on fire, Sir."
"Any water sources?"
"... Also on fire, Sir."
"Great." Partridge sank back against the course rock wall. "How many demons did we kill?"
"We're reporting over 800 sir but..."
"But?" Partridge, sensing Graves' reluctance, fixed him with an unbreaking stare. Graves finally relented, unable to look his superior in the eye as he spoke.
"Well they're the damned so... when we kill them they go to Hell."
"Which is here."
"Yes sir."
"Fucking fantastic." Partridge uncapped his hipflask and took a much needed swig. "But we've advanced? The front line has moved?"
"Yes by two miles sir."
"And how much of Hell is that?"
"Well sir, Hell is infinite so our current land gain is..."
"So small it's not even mathematically calculable."
"Yes sir. Our usual advancement measures are based on terrain that..."
"Ends?"
"Well yes sir."
General Partridge looked out across the bleak landscape. Private Graves at his side.
"This was a bad idea."
|
Polanski: HOLY FUCK THEY GOT TO EARTH?!
Rider: The demons? "Sigh", seems like taking over our station in Mars wasn't enough.
Polanski: Sir, please tell me we can kill them.
Rider: Yes and to kil- wait a second, my men just brung in a live demon, I'll bring the phone closer to it.
Rider: What's up jackass, you speak English?
"Demon": You have to let me go! We only invaded earth to escape him!
Rider: Well, that was unexpected, you do speak English, who is HIM?
"Demon": He was the sole survivor of our invasion of what you call Mars, you must understand our invasion of your planet is a battle for survival, not for war.
Rider: Shit, where is he now? In Hell?
"Demon": Yes no- "gunshots"
Rider: Thanks dumbass, we got all we needed. Polanski please make your way back to UAC command.
"Soldier": Sir! We just found a picture of who the demon is referring to.
Rider: Who the fuck is Doomguy? If he's in there who don't need to invade Hell, just defend our home. Maybe demons should learn to defend their homes as well.
| 2016-12-10T08:25:45
| 2016-12-10T08:15:33
| 117
| 22
|
[WP]When members or your family turn fifteen they are able to manifest a weapon that they will use for the rest of their lives. You’ve been trained to use all manner of weapons to prepare to be able to wield whatever weapon you summon. On your Summoning day what appears in front of you is a book.
|
I was 5 when I realised that my parents maybe superheroes. With my dad using the war-hammer and my mom using her sword to save our town from invaders.
I was 6 when my parents started tutoring me in the art that is fighting. I began with a bow and arrow, little old me used to go down the range and tried to hit as many bull's-eye as possible because that meant I would get an extra ice-cream and a new story. So I did day after day till I hit the wasp bothering me with the arrow the hit the target dead centre. My parents cheered. Told me they were proud of me. My siblings ruffled my hair telling me I was growing. I didn't know what we were practicing for but I was happy because I got a double scoop and my first personal storybook. To say I was over the moon would be an understatement.
Next was fencing then boxing then nunchucks and so on. I was getting better and better. It wasn't until my 8th birthday that I found out about our family's secret. A secret that answered many questions and raised many, many more. Apparently our family was blessed by Hephaestus (that was fun to say when I was 8, believe me) and Ares (that was easier, there was no way I could fuck up a 4-lettered word....but I did), so when we reached of age, which was 15 (I know!), we could wield the weapon we summon to help humanity. That's it, I was convinced then we were superheroes. I mean, we trained to fight with bad guys, with a weapon that was possibly made by a God, how cool was that.
Some days it was a pain in the ass but hey I liked to learn new things and we just didn't learn the techniques but also the history which was cool. You never know when one may require the melting point of a bronze dagger, right?
Year after year I watched my siblings get one great weapon after another, I was a bit sad when my sister got the bow and arrow, it being my first but my mom said two people could summon same weapon. Only a few years till it's my turn, I thought excitedly.
I couldn't sleep the day before my birthday. I tossed and turned before finally giving up. I reached the living room, where all my family was gathered looking excited.
"What is it, honey?" My mom asked, she could barely contain her excitement.
I looked at her confused. "I thought we got it at, you know, the altar."
"It's not an altar, stupid." Mary, my sister, rolled her eyes.
"Sweety, I told you, you summon it alone." My mother said kindly.
I have never had the urge to kick myself this badly in a long time. I ran back to my room, closed my eyes and started to envisioning my perfect weapon.
*Something which can be used against every single weapon.* I thought.
A warm wind blew through my room. I opened my eyes, waiting to look my ohh so mighty weapon, a spear- a machete- a bow and arrow- a katana...
A book.
I blinked. Closed my eyes again, thinking maybe I had forgotten my book there, so placed it on a shelf. Then closed my eyes and prayed again. When I opened my eyes, the book was once again in front of me. Tears filled my eyes as a knock echoed the silent room.
"Honey?" My dad said softly.
I didn't reply. Why was Heppy and Arey angry with me? Was it because I called them Heppy and Arey?
"Honey," My dad had entered my room, my mom following, his voice filled with concern. "Oh what is it- Oh! Oh god!"
I thought my dad would be disappointed by my dad was actually excited. Apparently so was my mom.
"Don't you see, sweetie," my parent's cried, "you have been blessed by Athena herself."
|
Daniella stood near the Church podium, her parents gazing pack at her from the pews with anticipation. Today was the day--a day of righteous proclamation. Her hands shook as the minute hand of the clock above her moved ever so slowly. Perhaps a scabbard or a scimitar, or a katana? No that would be too foreign. Her bloodline didn’t reach the Land of the Rising Sun. Maybe a bow and arrow or a pistol? She loved ranged weapons. They offered safety close-hand combat could never afford. Whatever she got, she hoped that it would be worth the time invested; those years in the leaky basement practicing over and over and over again.
The clock struck twelve.
“Now!” her mother yelled. “It's time for you to claim your birthright.”
Daniella clasped her hands. She chanted the words her mother whispered to her when she was a little girl.
Take my soul as recompense
My bones provide the sustenance
Thine blood should fill the chalice cup
And flood the totem of Thermump
I say with words and will unchanged
Summon thy spirit, my weapon unmatched!
As soon as she spoke the final words, the surrounding room fizzled. The surrounding church, her family, maybe even the entire world, broke apart into bubbles that rose to the sky, leaving a greyish atmosphere devoid of life.
From the lifeless void came a voice.
“Are you Daniella Apperchaut, ready to will it?
Daniella’s hands shook, but her soul did not falter.
“I am.”
“Then take it.”
From the darkness emerged a bright light. The light was small at first, before it began to expand, growing larger and larger. In the quickness of a breath, the light had consumed everything around her. It was so blinding that Daniella had to close her eyes.
When she opened them, she was back in that church. She looked at her family, who stared at her with surprise.
“What just…” she was about to say, but then realized that she was holding something in her right palm. A heavy, soft object—strange descriptions for a weapon.
She looked at it, and all excitement she once had vanished. It was a book. A giant, looseleaf book was what she gained from all of this. Her whole life led to the ability to give the strongest of paper cuts.
Her brother held back a laugh. He had been gifted the flame enchanted sword on his fifteenth birthday. Her dad looked concerned. He was rewarded the spear of causality when he was fifteen. Her mother looked disappointed. On her fifteenth birthday, she received the strongest weapon of them all; a power that would put words to shame and reason in its place.
But what did Daniella get? The most promising of them all, who worked harder and longer than all the rest. What was her reward? What did destiny deem her worth? A book. The Fates thought her worthy of a useless pile of paper. How would she ever live this down?
| 2021-12-12T09:30:41
| 2021-12-12T07:31:26
| 109
| 43
|
[WP] You lost your sight, along with everyone else on earth in the great blinding. Two years later, your sight returns. As you look around, you realize that every available wall, floor, and surface has been painted with the same message - "Don't tell them you can see"
I get that this is a repost, can we just chill and enjoy the new stories.
|
The day of the great blindness we thought that every single human on earth had lost their sense of sight. My heart still clenches when I remember how it happened.
I was walking. I was talking to my girlfriend, Joanne. She had the most beautiful hair I had ever seen. Her right eye was green, while the left one was blue. She was beautiful.
And then, I couldn't see her. Or anything else. Before I could process what was happening, I heard her mumbling in panic. She said: "Alice, I can't see". And everyone started screaming. There were car crashes, fights, everywhere, I thought we were going to die. I lost grip on Joanne, and since then I haven't found her again. I want to believe she is alive, but I have accepted that likely she isn't.
But not everyone lost sight that day.
Soon we heard messages. They claimed themselves to be the authorities. Some people hadn't lost their sight, and did move to assist the vast majority of earth populace. We were assigned to what they called "Residential camps". These were fashined in some form of town that helped us to navigate through audio cues, and signs on every single corner written in braile.
The day they brought me to this town they guided me to my appartment. It was just an small room, a kitchen and a toilet, but what I loved about it is that I could feel the warmth of the sun in my skin when I approached the window in my bedroom. It was... well, not perfect. Let's say, enough.
After six months in there, they have us phones that we could use in any sign. The phone would then tell us where we were, and even guide us in the infinite darkness of our blindness.
Well, I say darkness because is what people who maintain their sight imagine. "Blindness" is not equal to "Black", but that's okay, I don't think I could describe it anyway.
But that changed two days ago. It's been two years since I lost my vision... and two days ago, I got it back.
At first I thought I was dreaming, would not be the first time. I was laying down on a bed, it did feel like my own bed, the air smelled like my own room. I stood up and looked around, to the window... and there I realized something was wrong. Very wrong. I could indeed feel the warmth through the window... but there was no sun. No street, no sun, nothing! There was just a lamp that actually *irradiated* heat. No. Sun.
Then I turned around and saw the message in every single wall. "Don't tell them you can see".
I pinched my face. I wasn't dreaming. I spent nearly one hour in my room, trying to process what was happening, what *had* happened. This was madness, maybe I was mad, I though.
I wish I was.
Finally I made a decission. Until I found out what was going on, I would play blind. I had a job in this... *city*, if you can call it that way. I was a teacher. I got dressed, put on my sunglasses and walked outside with my cane as I had always done.
*Outside* was not there. There was only a corridor, dim light that barely allowed me to see -and the sunglasses made it even more difficult-. There was wind that day, but it was not natural, it was somehow *manufactured*, if that makes any sense! And, for the first time, I *saw* my neighboors. They seemed oblivious, they didn't know they were living in a fake city!
Or did they?
The though terrified me. How many people did know about that!? How many people had actually recovered sight, but just kept playing pretend all this time!? Why didn't I have to tell anyone!? Who brought us there, and why!?
That was two days ago.
I have just jumped towards Tommy. He is a good kid. Fortunately, we aree alone, as he is grounded during playtime -kids being kids-. I saw him raise his head, mouth widely opened; he looked around with an smile and mouthed the words: "Teach, I can see!". I didn't allow him to complete the sentence, I jumped on him and covered his mouth.
"Listen to me, Tommy" I tell him, panic in my voice. "You cannot tell anyone, do you understand?". He looked at me, terrified, so I yelled, "Promise me you won't tell anyone!". And he noddes, eyes wide opened.
"Why?", he asks. "Why can't I?"
I still don't know.
Hell. I wish I was still blind. Everything would be much easier.
\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_
\---Apologies for likely some spelling and grammar mistakes. English is not my mother launguage---
|
Was I living a lie? Were there others like me too? Who did this? Why is this happening to me? I have nothing but questions. The more I meet people, the more questions. I am left all the more unanswered. The more I see, I sink deeper to the unknown.
I spent the whole week living in my shock. I did not go out but locked myself in. Living like I did for the last couple of years. Coming to terms with what my sight can see is something I am not ready to comprehend.
As it is with everything under the universal reality of time, things will end. My fear and cowardice ran its course to its end. All thoughts lead to me finding answers. I had no option to finally see what the world shows.
Light reveals what the darkness envelopes. Physics has no tolerance for the subject's liking.
I can see my room, my chaos of clothes and chores. My failures to position and place. My lack of nutrition in body under the luminance from the long forgotten lightbulb. Uncut hair, long beard, dirty nails, boney chest shows much more than the obvious facts. It reveals a voice. Light makes sounds. It sounds like my voice screaming to end it. My sight shows my defeat.
My life will never remain the same. Light after darkness after lifelong taken for granted light changed me irreversibly. I was never someone who would lick wounds, but darkness made me want it more. The imagination of my blood flowing from my self inflicted cut was my only way to see. In my mind, in my pain. Seeing them revealed under light they look ugly. Cuts not as clean as I imagined them to be.
My thoughts with their reincarnation through my visions were pulling all my nerves towards actions. Reluctance used to be easy, its a struggle now. Struggle against my changed self.
Staring myself into my eyes, I grinned. I know I am leaving this, never return. Not here, not without answers. I closed my eyes and stepped outside, into the light.
| 2021-11-29T04:47:10
| 2021-11-29T04:20:57
| 109
| 10
|
[WP]: An ordinary human being gets abducted into interplanetary olympics that have a fun twist: The loser's planet gets destroyed. All hope seems to be lost, until the last sport is revealed to be what humans do best.
Edit: Thanks to you people, I am now aware of the existence of Jimmy Neutron, and if I could, would take it back.
I apologise for not having watched the same cartoons as you did, growing up.
|
Her arms numb and skin torn, exhaustion emanated off her. Barely able to stand, she finished the grueling race second to last. She felt the disdain and mockery from other species, her soft meat useless next to their spiny exoskeletons. Even those who possessed similar bodies had some skill in the events, whereas she failed miserably at everything.
"Allah, why must I, a simple mother and wife, decide the fate of my beloved home?"
She didn't have anywhere else to turn except prayer. These aliens had stripped her of her dignity and exposed her naked body for all to see. She had no allies, she was alone and vulnerable when she needed to be her strongest.
"Please let me win, let me find the strength I need to will myself up and fight..."
She cried. Not for herself, but for her children, her husband, and her parents. She cried for everyone. Death would come and it would be her doing. She never felt so little over so much.
"Let me die! I will sacrifice my life to save those I care for and have yet to care for! Allah, do what is just...please..."
Pleading and bargaining, she tried to keep praying but found it hard. Her pain was absolute, both physical and emotional. She was forsaken and alone. She had no more words, for there was nothing to convey her horror. Earth would be lost and that would weigh on her soul for eternity.
She looked at the screens, Earth, ]{, and something she couldn't quite read were lined up. The bottom three. She noticed the other names were also grouped into threes. Her vision was blurred from her tears and her eyes burned. The world around her faded in and out of focus.
A massive claw dropped from the sky and snatched her off the ground, the grip so tight she couldn't scream. The movements were so rapid she lost any visual barring and was shocked to be finally released. She hit the ground, hot sand burning her countless gashes. Gasping for air, she looked around. A screen showing the instructions emerged in the distance. Unable to crawl, she drug herself towards it. Each movement was unbearable, but she continued on. She had to. Upon reaching it, the surrounding land pulled away and the sand drained away leaving metal platforms. On each was an inferior being like herself that had failed in every event. She glanced at the instructions.
"YOU ARE WEAKER THAN ALL. YOU MUST PROVE YOUR WORTHINESS BY MENTAL FEATS NOT CAPABLE BY MOST - IMAGINE WHAT MOST CANNOT. WHOMEVER DOESNT SUCCEED SHALL SUFFER THE ULTIMATE PRICE."
She cried, fearing what that meant. She had no great mental gifts; her math was atrocious and she could barely write. Then she had a realization and smiled for the first time in a long while.
"Thank you, Allah."
She slept. Her dreams were more remarkable than anything the other two could imagine. When she woke, it was in her bed. She cried again.
"Thank you truly, Allah."
She slept.
|
"Ladies and gentlemen! Triploids and trans-asexuals! Welcome to the 2301st Milkyway Endurance Olympics!"
Mike could not understand what was happening. But he was sure of one thing: he did not want to be here. He was just a fat dude living in his mom's basement. He did not have a job, he did not have friends, he was good for nothing, he thought.
"Our first competitor is from the asteroid belt of Narubia! You probably know him but for those who don't, he is a warrior who has killed countless Racknorians in the civil war in his system and after that, got into olympics. He has a total of 87 gold medals and will probably leave with even more medals!"
An uproar rose from the tribunes. Mike did not know which part of the first alien was more scary. Was that the part he ate an alive alien's head and threw the body to his fans, who caught it like some baseball from a star player, or the part his arms looked more like weapons with all the spikes coming out of them.
"Our second competitor is from the beatiful but deadly planet of Solnia! If you were also watching the hunting olympics, you know about our beatiful competitor with 30 heads from the last hunting."
She was nothing near beautiful, Mike thought. As he was thinking about saying this, the second alien killed a random alien from Solnian side of the tribunes and sprayed its orange-ish goo on its other fans. They did not look scared at all...
"And our third competitor is an ex-pilot from the Vanguard fleet. He was a fighter pilot and shot down countless Andromedan fighters before retiring and starting a career in olympics."
This one looked almost humanly, until he opened his mouth to speak which was his... chest.
Mike was almost going to cry and he actually has when he was first abducted but the aliens did not seem to care.
"And our last competitor is from the exotic third planet of Sol. Its inhabitants live in a boring peace. So, here he is!"
He waved at the tribunes but he could not get the uproar the first three could get. He did not care anyway, he just wanted this to end.
"So, if you don't know what happens in the Olympics, let me tell you. It is pretty simple with only one kind of sport. Unlike the other 5619 olympics, there are no combat sports or any endurance sports, except for one. The competitors are asked to do maybe the hardest thing for any living being: to lie on a couch and try to stay lying with as small amount of brainwaves and as long as they can."
Mike was now really confused. So did the aliens simply watch the competitors sleep as long as they could? That was weird but this was also his expertise. When he would get bored, he could sleep through 20 hours without even moving an inch. He could even sleep on will, after 30 years of career as a couch potato.
"Now, there will be only one winner and one survivor. The losers will have to compete in the 7092nd Getting Eaten Olympics, which is pretty much death for them. That was too much talk anyway, let the Endurance Olympics begin!"
It was really not hard to sleep on the soft couch for Mike. Actually, it was not hard for him to sleep anywhere. He stopped thinking and in a mere seconds, he was asleep.
"And our last competitor wakes up! Everyone, hail the winner of the Olympics! Now, what do you wish, winner?"
"I called for a pizza when you guys kidnapped me so I think... A lifetime supply of any kind of pizza I want plus getting back home I guess."
| 2014-05-06T06:14:06
| 2014-05-06T05:48:35
| 57
| 32
|
[WP] all "walks into a bar" jokes happen in the same bar. you're the bartender.
|
Another clang is heard, as someone ONCE AGAIN walks into the bar, set low near the door. It's at a legal height, thought.
I know it's at a legal height. Because this is my bar. I've worked here for years. And I'm telling you, this place is haunted. And that bar? I've seen about ten people walk into it, this week so far alone. The depressing part is it's only Tuesday.
Anyway, the bar. The height. It'll go the same way it always go.
The man will look at what's he just hit. He does.
He'll look around, for a moment. He does.
He'll say the obvious thing they all say.
"Ouch."
And then he'll say the idiotic thing they all say.
"Why the **** is there a bar here?"
I sigh again, as I continue to clean a glass. I tilt my head to the side of the man. He looks down, and reads the warning label.
'Low Bar. Mind Step.'
Same every time. So many times, that I have had to deal with a court case at least once a month.
Some of them, I'll put my hands up, and say were my fault. Sometimes I've been watching too much of a show like South Park, or browsing /R/4Chan, of both at the same time, and I'll just say the most stupid thing I can.
'We don't serve your kind around here' to so many different species. Only the Noble Gases didn't react to that one.
The time I asked the horse why he had a long face? I didn't even mean to be funny, much less racist. He just honestly looked sad.
All that is just the tip of the iceberg. So many surreal things happen at this place, I honestly feel like my whole life is just one big joke. Waiting for the next schmuck to walk in to the bar, and say Ouch.
And as always, I'll be here. Tending bar. Waiting for the next lawsuit.
|
'Oh for fucks sake, not again!' The elderly man behind the slick, wooden bar sighed in exhasperation. Another pair of twits has 'walked into the bar' again. That makes the fourth today and its only ten o'clock in morning! The bar is extraordinarily clean as the elderly man has spent many years tending to it with a well oiled cloth. The tables and chairs are arranged neatly, napkins and cutlery placed with obvious care. Wooden floorboards were stain and spill free, surprising with the amount of Jokesters who think they're funny.
Suddenly the door screaches on un-oiled hinges and a horse walk in.
Not again
| 2016-09-18T17:17:38
| 2016-09-18T16:48:53
| 56
| 14
|
[WP] you open your umbrella as the sound of the many tiny droplets of rain hits the ground. You look at your friend who is looking very intently at the rain. "Something the matter?" "There's a pattern" "...what? "There's a pattern"
|
"There's a pattern."
I frowned. "Dude, what? Did you take something before we left?"
"No. Listen," he said, his stare not wavering from the falling sheets of rain.
I rolled my eyes but obliged. At first, the sound of the rain seemed random, just like normal. But the overall density of the rain did seem to be oscillating.
We had to have stood in silence for at least a minute. The sound of the rain on my umbrella would become louder, then quieter, louder, quieter, louder, quieter. The third quiet would last longer, and then the cycle would start again.
I tapped my foot to time the oscillations. It seemed to be consistent.
"Weird. Wonder why that is," I told him. "Nature's wacky."
"No, look," he said, gesturing out into the rain.
I looked out at the rain, still keeping my attention on the sound of it.
As I watched, it became apparent that the rain was falling in a very strange manner. I could see diagonal lines between clusters of raindrops, as if we were being carpet bombed by the clouds. But after an oscillation, those lines switched directions.
"What the shit?" I said aloud, not thinking.
"You see it?" He asked, his eyes lighting up as he looked at me.
"Yeah, I see it-" I said. But as soon as I did, I noticed one of the quiet parts of the oscillations was lasting much longer than usual. The rain picked up for a moment, but that lasted as long as usual. "What the hell is going on?"
He shrugged.
Suddenly, the rain looked very different, but I couldn't quite grasp why. Eventually, it looked like the raindrops were shuddering.
My friend laughed, but not a twisted chuckle or a maniacal cackle. His laugh was jovial, as if a long standing opinion of his had been vindicated.
All I could do was look between him and the rain in bewilderment. The shuddering of the rain turned into stuttering, and stuttering into jumping. The raindrops didn't have continuous motion. They would be in one position, and then the next.
"Something's lagging," my friend said, his laugh having died down.
I stood still, in awe of what I was seeing, until I processed what my friend had said.
"WHAT?"
|
The few moments after Jay started staring up blankly into the grey sky felt like eternity, you would never forget those eyes, wide with an emotion that you somehow knew could not really be adequately described or understood even if you studied every single intricacy of human emotion for hundreds of years. It was horror, it was fascination, wonder, dread, acceptance, longing, hope and equal parts confusion and understanding, no words were exchanged for several painfully silent seconds but it was clear as daylight to any friend worth their salt let alone one that thought of the other as a sibling in all but blood that they had seen something that has shaken the very foundations of their reality to the core. Jay was normally the loud one, with the exception of speaking they appeared incapable of not moving, but there they stood still as a statue and silent as a rock as the rain built up into a torrential downpour,
"Something the matter?" you asked in the absence of any better comment to make, painfully inadequate but it was all you could really muster,
"There is a pattern" Jay said in a near monotone voice broken by a small quiver in tone, eyes focused in the distance, towards some secret hidden from your sight in the rain above,
"...what?" came the response from your mouth as your mind struggled to process this,
"There's a pattern" Jay responded with far more certainty,
There was silence again. You knew Jay your entire life but you did not know what to say, what to do, what to even think. Devoid of any other ideas you turned to look at the rain yourself, a chill running down your spine that was something other than the cool wind from the rains.
There was nothing at first, you saw nothing in the drops falling from the heavens, and then something changed. It was quite simply indescribable, the rain ceased to be random, some curtain in reality itself was torn asunder and you were blinded by a light you could not have known existed. The rain was just the start, connections you did not even know came to be painfully obvious, the world you knew broke down and the reality just beneath was made clear. It was as beautiful as it was terrifying, the sheer weight of understanding left you paralysed in the rain, and just as suddenly it stopped and things returned to as they always were though you yourself felt like something profound has changed within yourself. You realised now that Jay had just let go of you then, you did not even feel their touch in the chaos of the sensory overload you had just experienced for a brief moment, how were they still standing?
"What does this mean?" you find yourself asking your friend, a person you thought you knew as much as yourself but now it appears they do not even know themselves in the slightest,
"I do not know." came the answer you expected in your soul, but were still mightily disappointed by,
"Well, at least you seem good enough to talk, let's go inside, sit down, and figure this out" you say with a smile to Jay, slowly they nodded and moved out of the pouring rain,
You did not understand what was happening, it was not really possible to understand really with the limitations of the human mind. Still, when had being unable to understand been a reason to not help out a friend in need? Be it keeping a secret, figuring out identity, dealing with the aftermath of emotional catastrophe Jay was there for you. You were not ready to look into the rain and have your reality smashed with a sledgehammer but you are absolutely ready to be by their side until the world makes sense again.
| 2021-11-22T09:26:44
| 2021-11-22T03:55:00
| 71
| 21
|
[WP] Write a conversation between a number of characters, one of whom is a liar. Make it hard to tell who the liar is.
|
The lights returned to normal as Raj gawked at the body on the floor, looking to the other people standing around it.
“Fess up,” he said. “Who killed Tom?”
Every shifted glances to their neighbors, the air thick with skepticism.
“It wasn’t me,” Mary said. “I hated the bastard but I wouldn’t have killed him, at least not with potential witnesses in the room.”
Jordan snickered, shaking his head.
“You’re such a liar. I saw you arguing with him last night. If anyone is the prime suspect, it’s you.”
“Oh, because you two have the best past, right?” Mary asked, crossing her arms.
Laura pulled out a cigarette, lighting it before speaking. After taking a long drag, she expelled tendrils of smoke.
“Look,” she said, flicking ashes to the side. “Someone in this room has to be the murderer. I just want to figure it out before I’m the next one.”
Mary swiveled her head, her eyes aflame with anger.
“And how do we know you’re not the killer? A woman who sleeps with a married man wouldn’t hesitate to kill him. You probably did it for the money.”
“Look here,” Laura barked. “You need to let go of the past. Tom came to me because he was sick of your bitching. And surprise, you’ve nagged him to death. Why don’t you confess so we can send your ass to jail?”
Mary clenched her fists, her jaw tight. Raj stepped forward to stop the inevitable fight. One dead person was enough for the night.
“Can you two not go at each other’s throat, if only for a minute? We all just lost a friend here.”
“Not a friend to all of us,” Jordan added.
Raj shot his a glance before continuing.
“We may have all had our differences with Tom at one point or another but he didn’t deserve to die. And until someone admits that they did it, we’re not going to get anywhere.”
Laura inhaled her cigarette once again, blowing a puff of smoke into Raj’s face.
“What makes you so calm and collected? If anything, that makes me question if you’re the killer.”
Raj stumbled back, shocked.
“Because Tom is my oldest and closest friend. What motivation would I have to kill him?”
“Jealousy, of course,” Jordan suggested. “He had the perfect life – money, fame, and more – while you had to watch from the sidelines. Envy ate at you until one day, you snapped and killed him.”
“That’s preposterous!” Mary interjected. “I’ve known Raj for a long time and he’s –”
The lights flickered. A scream followed.
In the few seconds that it took to happen, Raj was barely able to comprehend the scene in front of him. Mary’s eyes bulged, her hands stained red as they tried to cover the slash across her throat. A sickening gurgle came from her mouth, frothy blood-filled salvia spilling forth. As she collapsed, the lights went out again.
There was a scuffle, if he heard right. Then someone grunted – a man, no doubt.
When the lights returned, Jordan’s chest was sliced open, his shirt ripped to shreds. His face was twisted in pain, as if unable to register that he was dying. Like Mary, he fell to the ground. The lights dimmed.
As Raj eyes adjusted to the darkness, he saw Laura staring back at him, fear on her face. He watched her with care. Only he and she remained. She had to be the killer.
But when he opened his mouth to accuse her, she coughed, splattering blood across the white tile floor. She fell to the ground, revealing the butcher knife planted in her back.
Raj backed up to the wall. His mind reeling. In front of him, the bodies of his three friends laid out in front of him, their blood pooling into the center of the room.
Three?
Raj felt the prick of a knife in his side before he could react. He turned his head slowly to the side, well-aware of who his murderer was without looking. Laura was right. The killer was in the room but it was the person everyone last expected.
He opened his mouth, able to squeak out his parting words.
“Tom, why?”
His friend just frowned and shook his head.
“Sorry, mate. It had to be done.”
|
“I can feel the difference you know.” She tells me, placing her hand just below her rib cage. “Not right now, but at night when it gets real quiet. Just before I got sleep I can tell that the kidney you gave me is bigger than my own.”
The surgery had only been a week ago. She was still recovering. There were a lot of days where we just sat together, mentally digesting all that had transpired. Kidneys weren’t supposed to fail at our young age, and she was lucky that her husband just happened to be a match for her.
“Which kind of makes sense right? I mean, your kidney is bigger, healthier, and just all around different from mine. I saw the side by side picture from when they were doing the operation, and yours even has this little pink tinge to it that mine doesn’t.” I put my hand over top of hers and rubbed gently over the spot where my organ was inside her.
Some romantic texts were fond of saying things like ‘the two shall be one flesh’ and ‘their hearts beat as one’. Anatomic unity was something that was popular in cheesy romance novels. But in our case it was true. The kidneys are responsible for filtering the blood, so in a very real way my blood ran in her veins. We were, in a sense, of the same blood now.
I took her hand and placed it over the spot in my chest that was now missing an organ.
“It’s funny. I don’t feel the difference at all.”
Sidenote: I am a woman.
Edit: I bet reddit gold the first person to reply can't guess the liar.
| 2015-04-10T08:14:58
| 2015-04-10T08:01:04
| 68
| 10
|
[WP] On the day you turn 18 everyone is given the first words that their soulmate will speak to them. When you receive yours it says simply "Welcome to Starbucks. Can I take your order?"
|
"Welcome to Starbucks, can I take your order?"
I've heard those words countless times, and each time they had left me wanting. Nearly every boyfriend had been a Starbucks worker, but they had never worked out. I was beginning to think it was a cruel joke.
I was a 27 year old lonely, single woman well on her way to crazy cat lady status. I would never find my soulmate. Yet whenever I walked past a Starbucks, I couldn't help but be drawn inside.
I walked into an unfamiliar Starbucks, grouchy and tired.
"Welcome to Starbucks, can I take your order?" A voice chimed at me. A woman. Dammit. Maybe next time.
I looked up from my phone and started my usual order. "A white cho-..."
As I saw her, I suddenly felt as if all the air had vacated my body. All I could do is stare. She was beautiful. Black hair in a ponytail, bright brown eyes and lovely dark skin. She out dazzled everyone else in the cafe easily. Her name tag read "Melissa".
"Wuh-white chocolate hazelnut m-mocha." I was definitely not expecting this.
She smiled knowingly at me.
EDIT: I drew the encounter for some reason, I couldn't sleep until I did (http://imgur.com/a2ifoTj)
|
Today is the day, my 18th birthday. The last day I have to go to school. No matter where we are in the school year when someone turns 18 they get their career card, they have one day to say goodbye to their school friends then it's off to the "real world". For me that was today, I roll out of bed after having slept through my alarm which is pretty usual for me. I pull on my school uniform for the last time and make my way to brush my teeth, no shower today. Oh what a great start to the rest of my life. I fly down the stairs trying to make the bus but it's pulling away as i hit the floor. I run to the kitchen table grab some fruit for breakfast and the small red envelop with my name written in gold letters. No time to read it now. I jump in my dad's car and start to drive to school, at this point I figure I'm gonna be late anyways I might as well stop for some coffee on the way in. I pull into the parking lot, jump out as fast as I can open the door and bam I walk face first into the gentleman in front of me. The line is wrapped all the way around the building, great I'm for sure gonna be late I thought to myself. About 5 minutes later I'm getting bored, that's when I remembered that little red envelop, my futures card. The one piece of paper that is supposed to determine the rest of your life. Even through you're not allowed to show anyone what's on it, my friend Joey showed me his two weeks ago before he left. They aren't lieing when they say it's your future. Everything from his career to the number of kids he's gonna have to the first thing his soul mate is gonna say to him, it's crazy. I haven't seen or heard from him since. He got defender as his career so he's probably at some training or something, that meat head got his dream career. At this point the line had started to move again, I'm getting closer and closer to the front. I finally get the courage to open my futures card and see what it said. Personally I don't get why people make such a big deal about it, everything is already determined what's knowing it gonna change? Anyway I'm curious, I'm reading down the list. I'm supposed to be a teacher, that's not even fair I don't like kids. I'm supposed to have 2 kids of my own, one boy and a girl, great a wonderful start. The girl I'm supposed to marry : Emily browning, I've never met anyone by that name so I guess we'll see where this goes. It's probably a load of junk anyways. The first words my soul mate is going to say to me : "Welcome to Starbucks. Can I take your order?"... like really seriously? That's horrible, My other friend Jenny told me hers were "you've got the most beautiful eyes I've ever seen"...
That's when I hear it, I've made my way all the way up to the front of the line to get my coffee, and one for my professor to excuse me for being late. I look up with this dumb look on my face, and she repeats herself "Welcome to Starbucks. Can I take your order?" She's the most beautiful girl I've ever seen, I can't even speak. I kinda point to what I want while I stand there dumb struck. My order is finished I grab it and walk out. I stumble my way to my dad's car and through all my classes that day. I couldn't think of anything but her gorgeous smile. Once the school bell rung announcing the end of my school career I snapped to my senses. In that moment I remembered that I was going to get my professor coffee... and that I totally stiffed the girl I knew was going to be my soul mate for the coffee I had stolen that morning.
I grabbed my bag ran past all my friends not even bothering to say goodbye. I got in my dad's car and sped all the way back to the Starbucks. I walk in and notice they aren't as busy but thankfully she's still there... I make my way up to the counter and try to explain what had happened. As I pull my wallet out to pay for the drink my eyes find her name tag, Emily...
That was 20 years ago, I did go on to marry that girl she was my soul mate. That card ended up being the best thing that could have happened to me. To think it all started with a simple "Welcome to Starbucks. Can I take your order?". So that's was the my story of my futures card, and tomorrow son you'll get your own. No matter how silly it sounds, and no matter how much you think that little card will determine your life it can't tell you how it will happen.
This is the first story I've ever posted. I'd love your guys feedback :)
| 2014-12-18T00:56:11
| 2014-12-18T00:51:20
| 18
| 12
|
[WP] Once a name has been used it becomes unavailable until the person using it passes away. With over 7 billion people on earth people are starting to get... creative.
|
Sometimes it is just the luck of the draw. There's a guy in Germany who went the random route and got Adolfhilter, and now he's stuck with that. I went to school with a Mymomsacheatingbitch754 which really makes me question why you can't change your name later in life. It's just a stupid database, after all.
My pal Idiosyncraticmachinations says that the system is badly overloaded as it is, and between scanning in new identities and making old ones available, it is basically working flat out simply keeping up with current demand, and doesn't have the bandwidth for what is essentially a luxury and not a need. My cousin Ptimothy disagrees, and maintains that what is needed is parents with either cash, or foresight, or both. He points out that names have power, and maintains that President Richardtempletonthethird won a close race due to his name, and that Fartknockerfiftyfive was actually the better candidate all around. But hey, that's politics for you.
It is true that some families seem to get better names, and it is also true that money seems to help in that regard. When they introduced booking names in advance, that really helped the rich. It helped the poor too, and I should know since Ptimothy took $50,000 to sign over the rights to his name. This greatly annoyed our family, since they were the ones who gave him the name in the first place, and they felt that they should have gotten some benefit, and it annoyed his kids since none of their kids could now get the name, and it annoyed everyone in the family all over again when he blew through most of the cash over the course of a single weekend in Vegas with a hooker called Nearermygodtothee316. But when asked about it, he just laughs and quotes Pope Iloveanal69 when he said that all God's children have their true names inscribed in the Book of Life, or something like that.
Names have power, and I believe that. I agree with Ptimothy. I feel that people do in fact judge books by their covers, and that a poorly chosen name can have great consequences further down the line. I think it is important to put aside names, to put aside these un-asked for labels. I should know, for I have gone my entire life being called Elpasoyankees25544 and no, I guess my parents never thought they would move back to New York. My name does not reflect who I am, it doesn't define me. I am a San Fran Dynamos fan, after all. Please please put aside labels, and consider only the facts when judging someone, and find my client Guiltyasfuck innocent!
|
When the name act had passed in 2036, my family, being rich and renowned were able to secure normal names with the help of billions upon billions of bribe money.
While the peasants of the world names their children random strings of letters and numbers, my name is Anastasia.
Since then we have kept the precious name in our family. It had belong to my grandma and I had remained nameless until she died and then the name was passed on to me. Usually, it went to the first person who applied for the name, but my family's power was no joke.
All of the powerful families in the world had "normal" names, this had become a show of our wealth. Those with the most normal, bland and common names were the most wealthiest.
One day, as I was sunbathing by my pool, my butler came and handed me a black envelope.
"What is this?" I asked him.
"It seems to be an invitation of some kind and is addressed to you, my lady"
I glanced at the golden letters that curved out my name. I flipped the envelope around and pried it open.
Inside was a black card and in red, bloody letters was the word "hunted".
I shrieked and dropped the card, which the wind blew into the pool. The black ink which dyed the card began to seep out and due the pool black.
My hands shook and I immediately got up to look around me.
This couldn't be happening, I thought to myself, not to ME!
I looked at my butler who backed away in fear and then turned and ran as far away from me as possible. Then, I made a beeline for the house.
Inside, I locked the glass door. The maids all have me a strange look at my panic.
Without a single word I rand down towards my basement to our secret safety room. The walls built with 3 meter thick reinforced steel. Once down there, I closed the door behind me and sighed with relief.
But how long was I gonna stay here? I wondered to myself. The hunters never stopped hunting once they set a target.
I looked around in the secret room which I had not entered since I was an unnamed child.
I remembered that there was a corner dedicated to supplies that could last for months. I went there to check.
To my horror, all the supplies were gone! My mind races in confusion. I went back to the door. I had to go and stockpile a new supply for my coming months of seclusion, however when I tried the passcode protected lock it wouldn't open. Someone had changed the code!
I screamed and screamed but no one hears me in the soundproof room.
The servants had soon seen the card, now white, floating in the pool of darkness and they all ran for their lives.
My family members who knew of the secret room all pretended that I had died in fear that if they visited my location would be revealed. They thought I had months worth of supplies but I really had none. I was dead in days.
The hunters were paid a hefty some of 900 billion dollars and somewhere a baby claimed the name "Anastasia".
| 2016-10-23T11:36:07
| 2016-10-23T11:33:39
| 51
| 29
|
[WP] Write a seemingly normal story, except for the last sentence, which makes the entire story creepy
|
I'm a single father of one beautiful girl. She's my whole world. As a single father I feel the need to over-compensate and I tend to spoil the girl. I often bring home toys and games for her and I to enjoy together.
I sometimes worry that I over-do it, but she loves the attention. One day, after work, we played a long game of monopoly. I let her win, even though she made several obvious mistakes with her purchases.
"You know I still love you..." I said laughing as we picked up the pieces.
"I love you too" she replied.
Those four words meant the world to me. Ever since her mother has been out of the picture things have been kind of difficult between us, but those four words just make my heart melt. If we continue to bond like this, maybe someday I can let her out of the basement.
|
Hello darling, I haven't heard from you in a while. I know it's been radio silence between us, but I really had to ask-
Do you still think about me?
I've begun to reminice about you more. Remembering all those little things you did for me, the pictures we drew together. I've gotten back into listening to our favourite songs. Sitting on the bus, watching the world go by, thinking about having you whisper sweet succulent nothings in my ear.
You might say I'm obsessed again.
We'd talk about being famous. You were willing to do anything, as long as it was with me. We'd become billionares through sheer luck. Cure the world. Start a band. Live a little, hell, live a lot.
I hope you still think of me that way. I know I left, but it was mostly my family's fault. You know how my grandma sides with your father's opinion of you. I still think you're amazing. I hope you know that.
My life has gotten so much more boring after you left. I go to work, I go home, I watch my dreams fade and die. I can't hold on to them with a single pair of hands. I miss you, my darling. I love you. I guess all I really mean to say is... I'm ready to sell my soul now.
| 2016-05-19T10:10:20
| 2016-05-19T09:39:43
| 408
| 33
|
[WP] A humble blacksmith finds Mjolnir. Being worthy he is able to pick it up but doesn't recognize what it is and uses it at his forge occasionally resulting in enchanted Armor and weapons.
|
"You want me to make what?"
"A fountain pen...and money is no objection".
"Lil missy, you do realise I am a blacksmith. I make armours and weapons, not some silly pens".
"I am well aware of that, Mr. Smith but I also know for a fact you have excellent skills in making everything from metals".
"Aye, indeed it is true but is it not better to gift your father something more manly, as you can see in this shop? Men would truly kill each other to get these in their hands."
"True, but he does not need these in his line of work, whereas the specially commisioned pen from a famous blacksmith like yourself will surely be useful and one of a kind for him. He would definitely use it as a proud and mighty man."
"(Sigh). You win lil lady. Any particular request for the pen?"
"Yes. Please design it according to this paper. The size and specifics are all there."
"Anymore?"
"Oh yes! Can you engrave his name at...this... part, next to your usual trademark logo please?".
"Alrights (pick up Mjolnir), what is his name and what does he do?"
"My father's name is Ted and he is an accountant".
(Had fun making this. Sorry if my english is not that perfect)
|
The man at the forge had long, thick, muscled arms that worked the steel through the hammer as if the hot, glowing metal were directly in his hands, those hands that never knew any other work. The hammer itself was quite the rarity- the man, Volundr, had found it years ago after a lightning storm that took place in the whereabouts of his residence and working place atop a mountain.
It was a double-sided hammer, carefully engraved with a beautiful pattern around the edges. Its oddity however lay in the fact that it was astonishingly light, so light in fact that it weighed as much as the smith would have it weigh. This made it perfect for smithing- as Volundr raised the hammer it assumed the mass of a feather, and as it reached the apex of its trajectory it would come crashing down to strike the steel with enough inertia to turn the heated metal the shape imagined by the smith.
At first he too had found it strange but came to accept it. No one had come looking for the hammer, and he had no means of finding its original owner, so he gave it good use, and thankfully, the hammer complied. Under normal circumstances this wouldn't be of any importance, but Volundr felt it, the willingness of the hammer to create and refine. To join him in producing an artifact that would raze cities and be held by noblest of men.
This occasionally produced a rather strange effect, creating weapons that had an aura to them. Not a visual aura, they wouldn't glow, or shine, nor an audible one either, but instead one that could be felt, it drew to them like steel draws to magnets, like men are drawn to beautiful, they too possessed beauty, a spiritual beauty that made any who wielded them sense the shield's need to block, the sword's want to parry and slash and the daggers drive to stab.
Of course something of this magnitude is never let to peace: more and more, strange visitors appeared wanting to see the results of this fine hammer. On a fateful day a different man appeared. As he closed in on the door he removed his light coat and knocked on the rough, dark brown wood. It opened. From the other side the rugged smith looked the man, comparable in build to Volundr, in the eye and greeted him "Good morning stranger, what brings you to my forge?"
"Your steel. What else could be a man come to a blacksmith for?" he replied, nonplussed by the the blacksmiths skepticism to his presence, evidenced by his tone and posture.
"More than you'd think." Volundr said in turn, more relaxed, now that he knew the man hadn't come for the wonders of the hammer. "How can I help you then?"
"I need a spear. I am willing to pay you good money for your crafting ability."
"A spear... I haven't been requested one of those for years." The spear is quite an easy weapon to brandish, it has long reach, forcing distance between opponents, but once that range is broken, any sword would hold the advantage.
"From what I've heard you can forge any blade imaginable my men"
"I wouldn't go as far as to say that, but I can make your spear. Return to me in three days"
And so it was. After three days the spear was complete.
"It is not unnecessarily embellished, but it serves to cut down your opponents." He spoke of his creation. It too, like the other weapons, had that barely tangible presence to it.
"It does indeed" The man consented as he examined the battle instrument in his hands. It was six feet long, one and a half of which were a taken up by an unadorned blade, sided by two smaller spikes.
He looked at it for a while longer and felt the enchanted nature of the weapon. And he swung it. At the made who created the spear, it was swung. Volundr could only throw himself to his side to avoid the spear that cut through the space where his frame had been standing moments before. "What do you want?" He challenged as he brought himself back up and reached for a sword resting on the shelf to his right
"Your blood, but most importantly, your hammer." What he was looking for was locked in its case, in the room blocked by the blacksmith's body. For the man Volundr was no more than obstacle he had to overcome.
The smith however made use of the short in which they exchanged words to find a strategy to level the fighting ground- the spear was much better suited for combat in an ample space like his forge. So he left the forge. He backed into the room behind him, much tighter and much less forgiving of erroneous movements by the spear-man. He felt the sweat exuding from his palms as the man charged. He was quick and precise, but in the confined room the smith had the advantage, of breaking the spears safe range, forcing the man to hold it half-staff. But still the blow came, and the smith deflected it. The spearman took a step back and before Volundr could take his chance, swung the spear viciously from left to right, forcing the smith to deflect with the sword in his hands.
The attacks seemed almost inhuman in velocity, as they came one after another. After the first swing he reversed the momentum of the spear and this time the smith wasn't as fortunate as before. Still recovering from the first blow, Volundr could to nothing but advance in order to sustain only the blow from the wooden shaft to his leg. This put him to his knees, and at that moment he knew it was over. Faster than the raging wind that blew outside the forge the man spun the lance above his head for two whole rotations, and then perform a downward stabbing motion.
An inescapable attack that Volundr knew the best of spearmen couldn't even match, for its deadliness lay not in the undoubtedly skilled man that held it, but in the spear itself. The physical spear stopped an inch short of his chest, but the magic granted to it by the hammer, its soul, pierced through the blacksmith's chest, and ended the dispute that been decided when the man had taken hold of the weapon.
Half hanging between life and the abyss of Death Volundr saw the spearman step over him and grab the coveted hammer, as he did so, the man said, knowing the smith still held life within him "You would have done well no to dwell with the god's magic, brother."
Note: I don't write a lot, this is pretty much my first attempt at anything decent, its probably awful.
| 2015-11-21T17:02:00
| 2015-11-21T10:58:54
| 85
| 35
|
[WP]Things on the mountain don't age. You built a cabin to live in with your family 300 years ago, and since then none of you have aged a day. You've even come to know many of the animals as they too are immortal, and have grown wise. One day you find an old buck, a friend, shot dead and left to rot
EDIT: I’m trying so hard to read all the stories and get everything else done that I need to today lol. Just gotta say that this is one of the best collections of stories I’ve ever had on one of my prompts!! You guys are awesome!
|
The mountain was hallowed ground. A place where the slow hand of death could not claim those upon it. It was a sanctuary from life itself, a place where if one truly desired, they could spend an eternity. It was a place where one would never age a day from the very first in which they entered.
But it was only the slow hand of death which was delayed, the one known as the inevitability which all life eventually succumbed to. But the other hand of death still reigned dominion over all – the fast hand – the unexpected quick death, whether painless or not. That hand was unavoidable even for those upon the mountain.
Our family did indeed have its fair share of troubles and worries, but we knew that we would never come to harm each other to such an extent, for while grudges were temporary, death was not. We went about our lives with utmost caution, not to the extent that we would cripple our daily activities, but just enough to stave off the fast hand of death, just enough to prevent a fateful accident from befalling us.
My family was not the only ones who roamed those lands, but we were the only humans that we knew of. And while we did not need to partake in the consumption of food and drink, we took from the land as we fancied, but did not impart our will upon the beasts which prowled them. For the creatures whuch lurked those misty hills had a kind of calmness to them, no doubt born from the complacency bought on from their immortality. They cared not to run from our presence, rather, it could almost be said that they reveled in it.
We knew the woodland beasts well, to the extent that we even considered some of them to be a part of our own family.
That was why when I came across that old buck, bloodied and abandoned in those woods, my heart was struck with grief and the air was struck with my horrified howls. He had already succumbed to the fast hand of death, a hopeless fate, almost inevitable in some respects. I had thought for a moment that a beast from outside the mountain had come to those lands in search of food and struck him down. But the fact that his corpse had been left to rot meant those thoughts were unfounded.
It was then that I saw upon his neck the hole where the blood burst forth, a clean shot from end to end. The death of the old buck was the work of a hunter, but the fact that he had not claimed his kill filled me with a fear that I had not known for over a hundred years.
It was rare enough that humans would ever set foot on that mountain, and for one to go there with intent to kill was even rarer, if not unheard of.
I could not prevent myself from emptying the contents of my stomach – however little – into the thicket by my feet. I saw in that musky puddle a tinge of red, carrying with it the faint scent of raspberries, which was soon overpowered by the wretched stench of bile. I felt that foul taste dance upon the back of my throat, as if mocking me in my time of terror. But I could not sit and dwell in my circumstances, for my troubles of the present were far less pressing than the impending doom I felt beckoning down on me from my future.
I left the old buck where he lay, silently promising to myself that I would one day find my way back and give him a proper burial.
As I raced back to my family home, it was as if the fatigue of a hundred years came down upon me all at once. For each frantic step felt like fire in my bones, and each ragged breath threatened to be my last. My mind raced with a panic I had not felt in so long, and it was indeed not a welcome feeling.
I burst through the door with the grace of a man possessed, and caused Rose – my wife – upon the sofa to let out a panicked yell. She turned towards me with a look of indignant anger, which soon faded away when she took one look at my haggard state.
“Darling? What happened?” She raced towards my side in a manner of moments and took my hands in her own, and only then did I notice just how much they were trembling.
“The old buck,” I said, barely able to force myself to speak, “Someone killed him.”
“Was it a bear?” She asked, as she turned her head to a forgotten corner of the house. “Your gun still works, right?”
“No,” I said, “someone. A person. A hunter.”
It was then that my son George entered the room, and I heard his voice before I saw him.
“What's up with you, Dad?” He said, as he fiddled with a cube toy in his hands, “you look like you've seen a ghost.”
I looked towards my boy, still the young and carefree savant he always was, but with an age behind his dusty brown eyes that told you he knew more than you ever would.
When I first set forth my plans to move to the mountain with him and the rest of my family, he was the one who yearned for that life the most. And out of all of us that lived on the mountain, he was the only one who had aged significantly since his arrival, owing to his routine visits to the outside lands to gather the things which tickled his fancy.
“George,” said Rose, her voice colder than moments before, “get the gun.”
“Alright,” said George, as he left the room from the same direction from whence he came. Even though I had long since forgotten the key to the safe, I knew that George would remember it with little hassle, for his mind was far sharper than my own.
Rose turned my face to her own. “Did you see him? The hunter?”
* * *
[I expanded on what I had but ended up breaking the character limit for posts so I've split them into two parts and posted the 2nd part as a reply here.](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/bvwion/wpthings_on_the_mountain_dont_age_you_built_a/eptusmq/)
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I couldn't believe it was him at first- I didn't want to. But there was no denying that it was him. The same milky, blind eyes and coarse, patchy fur. He looked almost as if he were sleeping peacefully, his head resting gently on a pillow of moss, but the rotting entrails around his body stripped away this illusion. I felt tears come to my eyes, but I wiped them away. I don't know why. There was no one around to see me bawl; the perpetrator had long gone. I took an armful of pine needles from the forest floor and spread it over his body. I didn't know it then, but that would be the first of many deaths to come. And it would be the first of many reasons to consider leaving the mountain.
| 2019-06-02T07:39:59
| 2019-06-02T07:23:21
| 1,386
| 38
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[WP] In order to prevent man from chopping them down, trees evolve a rather unusual feature - WiFi. However, the network they are connected to is not the Internet as we know it.
|
(25 minutes later)
... "Thank you for calling Verizon customer support, this is Nacho. May I please have your name for our records?"
"Mike. You're the third person that I've told."
"Excuse me, sir?"
"Nothing."
"Ok. Mike?"
"Yes."
"What seems to be the issue today, Mike?"
"Well my router doesn't seem to be working correctly."
...
"Hello?"
"Yes sir, I'm sorry to hear that. What exactly is the problem with the router?"
"It's just not working. There's no Greenternet coming from it."
"Ok, I understood. Please hold on for a moment while I connect to your account."
...
"What color are the leaves, sir?"
"It's winter, here."
"Excuse me, sir?"
"Uh...there are no leaves. They all fell off. It's winter."
"Oh, I see. So you have a deciduous model, then. Do you know the species, sir?"
"Yes, yes. Hold on, let me get the guide. It looks like a...man, this is hard without the leaves...it looks like either an Oak...or...an Elm."
"It cannot be an Oak, sir, because Verizon does not use oaks as carriers, but it could certainly be an elm. Can you please confirm if it is an American Elm or a Rock Elm?"
"I don't know. Where can I find that information?"
"Is the bark flakier, or rather sturdy?"
"Sturdy."
"Ok Mike, I believe you are using an American Elm with us today. And please allow me to confirm that there are no leaves on your tree. Is that correct?"
"Yes, it's December."
"Ok. Mike, I am going to walk you through some simple troubleshooting tests such as resetting your tree's connection. Is that ok?"
"Yes, but I've already turned it off and then on again."
"And what did that do?"
"Well, nothing obviously. There's no Greenternet still."
...
[The conversation continues for some time before Mike goes out and cuts down the tree himself, planting in its stead a sturdy Cherry from a local telecom startup.]
|
There was a twinge of guilt as I opened my laptop on the wet grass. A few spots of dew hit the screen from the motion and lit up on my log-in screen with a luminous rainbow of LED colors. The guilt was from missing yet another day of work for what I can only refer to as a wonderful affliction. A new sapling was just getting it's range today so I had to connect.
I don't know when I lost my way, I can't even pinpoint when I started "branching". It all started as having to send a work email up in the mountains and losing my 4G at the most inopportune moment. I can't recall if it was my 2nd year or 12th year at Johnson & Gamble. I connected to send the spreadsheet I had lazily pieced together in the waning sunlight. I had been warned, but it was all from inference. The people that were deep into branching were completely in their own world, they still functioned basically in society, but they didn't have jobs, they weren't involved in anything that involved people that didn't "branch." The main thing is that they didn't talk to anyone about it, and they all looked pretty happy, in fact, more happy than most. It was kind of like Mormonism, you were weirded out and afraid of their ways, but damnit if they didn't look like the happiest bunch of picture-frame-stock-photo families you'd ever seen.
When I finally "linked" I got it. They called it linked because just like the rumors, your web experience was guided by a wood elf. There was very little that the rumors got right, but that was something that was true. I was never into fantasy stuff, the only vision I had of what elves looked like was from Peter Jackson, and it turned out (to no surprise of my own) that it was spot on. My elf's name was Cynthia, which I realized sounds totally like a fantasy name despite it's commonality.
Cynthia was HOT. I mean like *Whoa I'm nervous to talk to this girl* hot, to the point where browsing the web became a shaky, triple-clicking experience. I quickly sent my email, and by "quickly" I mean amazingly fast. The wait times on loading/sending/anything were instant. I reached for the top of my screen to close it, but I couldn't draw myself to do it.
"Is there anything else you're interested in?" Cynthia asked. The trees seemed to bow to my activity in the breeze like I controlled the wind with every click.
"Um.." I cleared my throat. "Ahem...um...no I guess not."
"Are you sure?" she asked in **THE SEXIEST** voice I'd ever heard.
"Well I guess I need to check my work email" I eked.
"Done" she said. "Mr. Treadwell says your project isn't due until Monday, the meeting for Saturday was moved up to 1:00 and it is at the Double Tree now, and Tiffany from accounting made a cute joke with a winky-smily at the end of the TPS report."
It hit me. Branching was all about privileged information and efficiency. Cynthia had done in seconds what would have taken me 20 minutes. I got a little braver,
"How about Reddit, Facebook, and CNN?" I asked, sitting more comfortably in the office chair.
There was a wave of light and stimuli. Reddit became a living thing on my screen, I spent 20 seconds laughing continuously at things I thought were funny, 20 seconds speed-reading studiously about current events, and the last 20 seconds commenting with such clever zing that I was gilded thrice, that's right, a thrice-gilding. It was the most amazing 2 minutes of my internet life, except for my first experience with streaming Jenna Jameson and not having to rename downloaded Kazaa porn "7BWe.exe" to avoid having my mother stumble upon it. I was about 3 minutes into my first branching experience when Cynthia showed me the /r/GoneWild of girls that were only my type and only in my area. Kind of like those "Tina is 5 miles away and wants to share nudes" but you know...real. I was feeling a little randy when I heard every mans fantasy.
"Would you like me to take care of that bothersome need in your board shorts?" Cynthia asked, breaking the 4th wall of computer 3-dimensional life and peaking her beautiful face out of the screen. I was afraid to say "yes" but I was for damn sure not saying "no". It was the best sex of my life, it was like my half hour of porn browning was cut down to the 2 minutes I actually wanted to watch, but all of this "watching" was happening on my penis. I could see now why so many people were disappearing into this world.
That was an incredible experience. Your sprite that you "linked" with (haha link-ed get it?) was your own, but they didn't live long, you had to find a new tree after they died and almost every tree was taken. I was lucky to find "2WIRECYNTHIA" in the mountains. We had been through a ton together, privileged information meant I new current events up to the second, to the point where I knew exactly where and when I could ask my incredibly poignant political question when he was in town, learn Portuguese in minutes, right before encountering the Brazilian National Volleyball team at a local bar, building my DIY PC from parts that I got from a tiny abandoned computer repair store that I broke into with my DIY lockpicks. I learned how to code, hack, create, destroy. I had built a bit of wealth from my money-making schemes from privileged knowledge and done well.
So here I was, constantly refreshing my WiFi near this new sapling that was "ranging" for the first time. Surrounded by dozens of local "branchers" desperate to have that leg up, that efficiency, and cyber companion. Then suddenly "NETGEARNADIA" came up on my screen. The forest was flooded with the echoing sounds of feverish clicking and typing.
I heard a cry out about 20 feet behind me,
"YES!" A high pitched stranger let out a celebratory yell.
Followed by a collective grown from the rest of the "saps" including my own.
God Damnit
| 2015-06-30T15:28:22
| 2015-06-30T15:15:57
| 159
| 35
|
[WP] Your mission is to write the worst opening to a YA novel ever. How badly can you make us cringe?
|
Raven Darknessmore awoke to the familiar pain of her dull existence and walked to the mirror. Her sullen orbs admired her dismal appearance. Her hair was black like night. Her face was pale like milk. Her moon-shaped scar hurt from the dreams she had last night. She knew one thing for certain: she could never love a demon.
After a boring shower, she trudged downstairs and found her parents murdered. There was a note. It said "You're next".
"Oh my!" Raven exclaimed. She pocketed the note and went to school.
History was obnoxious like always, but there was a new transfer student. His chiseled abs gleamed through his school uniform and his magenta hair glistened in the gaze of Raven's orbs.
"Now to talk about our town's old werewolf problem." The history teacher continued. "There is a legend about a special girl..."
Raven could hardly believe her luck as the muscled transfer student sat next to her.
"Hi." He said.
"Hey." She replied.
"Are you a werewolf?" He asked.
"No, why?"
"Do you want to be?"
"Yes." She exclaimed.
|
Once upon a time, a young girl and a young boy were deeply in love. They would always re-enact romantic scenes from films, ranging from Romeo and Juliet to Snow White and the Seven Dwarves, costumes and all. They would go everywhere together, *do* everything together... by everything, I mean *everything*, even going to the bathroom, public or private! And they would often be in there for a while...
They would always say cute things to each other, such as "I love you - I love you more - I love you more than ice cream - I love you more than cupcakes!", and had adorable pet names for each other; the boy was known as 'Cub' and the girl was known as 'Sweetcake'. The two really were inseparable.
But one day, the boy's family had to move to the next town over for his fathers job, and now the two could only see each other four days a week. The girl was torn apart, and spends every waking moment apart from her lover texting him how much she misses him, and he responds by promising that, one day, they'll be together again. So the girl waits...
| 2022-08-19T15:35:49
| 2022-08-19T14:20:41
| 815
| 93
|
[WP] Every time in your life you've been in mortal danger, a small cat has appeared that casually yet miraculously leads you to safety. Now, as your plane plummets from the sky, spiraling towards the ground, the cat pops out of the overhead compartment.
|
The first time the cat visited me was a couple of weeks after Momma's funeral. Me and her hadn't even gotten along. Not well, at least. Not recently. And yet her death had somehow left me hollow and purposless. Just drifting along like dust.
The cabinet above the sink in my uncleaned bathroom was wide open, and I was staring into it like all the answers to life lay somewhere within. In the half filled pill bottles, syrupy cough medicines, in the tablets prescribed for disorders that had recently bubbled to the surface. How many, I wondered, would it take? Would Momma be waiting for me up in the night sky?
The cat must have climbed the unkempt wisteria to have reached the window, for in the mirror I saw a burst of ginger -- as bright as carrot soup -- squeeze its way into my bathroon. I barely registered it, barely registered anything back then. I was an imitation of Olivia, dulled and numb to life, to what was going on around me. I have the vaguest recollection of it rubbing its orange sides against my leg and giving the faintest, pleading, mew. It had no collar, and was thin but not skinny.
I reached forward and took a plastic bottle from the cabinet, ignoring the tiny visitor and rattling it as I brought it to my chest. "I miss you, momma," I whispered, as I squeezed the childproof lid and slowly twisted it open.
The cat leapt up on the sink, then just as suddenly pounced at me, knocking the bottle out of my hands, spilling it's contents into the toilet below. I peered down to see dozen of tiny white rafts bobbing up to the surface.
I grunted and tried to kick out at the cat. "Get lost!" But it was much faster than my foot and jumped out of the way easily, unbothered. It hopped up into the sink and gave another cry. Its huge eyes looked up at me, probably only begging to be fed or pet, but at that moment, I saw it differently. I saw something else in those eyes.
I closed the cabinet and sobbed as I stroked the cat's head, it nudging forcefully against my strokes.
I had wanted to name her after Momma, but using her fist name for an animal seemed strange, so I picked her second name instead. Casey.
Casey visited me regularly in those next bleak weeks, the only drop of color in what had become a very grey world. She came in the evenings, mostly, but sometimes spent the entire night with me, curled up at the end of my bed, eyes always half open, watching me as I slept.
Guarding me.
Finally, after almost six full months, Casey stopped visiting. But that was okay. She had her own life, and I once again had something near enough to a life, too. Casey had left some of her brightness behind, melting the ice. The sunsets now held a burst of crimson, the days, a faint brushstroke of blue. Of hope.
It wouldn't be another five years until I saw Casey again. At the time, I thought she'd almost killed me. It wasn't until I was calm, many hours later, that I realized the opposite had been true.
It had been a sweltering Nevada night, and I'd left the windows of my Fiat open a crack as I'd gone into the house. It must have been then that Casey has snuck in, hiding beneath one of the back seats. That night, on account of the humidity and my child waking, crying, every thirty minutes, I had slept poorly.
The next morning, I'd put my little boy in his car seat, in the middle back, without noticing the cat at all. Then, I had begun the long and tiring trip to my Pappa's.
The day was hotter than even the previous, and as the sun left and evening settled in, the heat and humidity had been left behind to taunt and beat me. The road I was on was a long straight haze, and there were no other vehicles in sight.
I didn't feel sleep creep up on me. Didn't notice my eyes pulled down my drowsiness. But I do recall a blank spot in my memory, a gap from when I fell.
There was a loud cry as Casey leapt from the back seat onto my lap, and another cry as I awoke startled, spinning the wheel and skidding off the road. Then, an engulfing blare as a honking truck grazed the edge of the car, scraping off a layer of metal as if it has been no more than skin.
I had been on the wrong side of the road.
With tremmoring hands, I pushed open my door and snatched by baby from the back, all the while shouting and screaming at the dumb fucking cat for almost killing the pair of us.
It hopped out of the car and slunk sadly into the trees to our side.
---
I knew it couldn't have been Casey, but the ginger cat who snuck into the hospital nearly forty years later looked almost identical to her. Thin, but not skinny, and as bright as carrot soup.
It was just another one of many countless nights in the hospital.There was no surgery left to be done to me. No treatments. No more diagnoses. Nothing for me to do but wait.
My family had left for the night, deciding, after much persuasion on my part, that I would be fine for just one night. I wanted them to go have a meal together. To laugh and drink and remember me how I was before the cancer spread so far. For they had spent little time away from me over the last months, and they deserved better than a room that stunk of disinfectant and urine. Better than food made a week ago and heated to a bland warmth in a mircowave.
I watched through blurry eyes as the collarless smuge of orange padded through the ward, unseen by patients and staff alike, and leapt onto my bed. It nudged its face into mine, reassuringly, before settling down on my legs.
"It is you, isn't it?" I said to the cat.
It mewed gently, eyes half open. Watching me.
"I'm sorry," I said, as it curled up on me, "it wasn't your fault. It was mine. It always had been." I reached out and stroked its head.
Casey purred loudly, comforting and guarding me, one last night.
---
(sorry I didn't use the plane - seemed to be enough of those responses already)
|
I couldn’t believe it.
“The cat!” I shouted, my voice pressed back into my throat falling short of everyone else. I struggled to free myself from flat palm of the G pushing me into the enveloping coach seat.
The overhead had gaped open, a mouth mirroring all of us in the horror we all felt. Inside, however, sat the one and only thing that could bring peace and comfort: the cat. This cat. This one singular being which had built within me a mountain of faith, trust and love. This guide which had brought me out of life threatening situations eight times now in my life. She was my talisman, my white rabbit. And no matter what the consequences may be I was determined to follow her now.
I ripped myself from the confining physics as if by superhuman force. Perhaps she’d endowed me with that, but I didn’t have time for thoughts like that now. I blinked them away and focused. She jumped down and over the head of a purple faced scream and he grabbed her by the neck.
“No!” Every memory of her inside of me welled up and volcanoed out of me at that sight. It was for nought. The man was gripped by his inevitable death and he squeezed til her neck popped. That’s what broke him out of his nightmare and, by the looks of it, sent him hurling into the depths of a Salvador Dali painting. He bewilderingly looked at what had not been in his hands a moment ago and released it. He sat in uncomprehending silence as the cat, my cat, slipped loosely from his grasp and cascaded onto the sloped floor.
It followed the aisle down and in spite of all that was happening in me internally, one thought took control.
“Follow me.”
I jumped an eight year old’s jump at the top of a slide and gathered force. My cat was waiting for me at the door, its lifeless eyes still somehow conveying a look of anticipation, as if there were a warm hearth and a bowl of milk waiting behind there. My impact sent us hurtling into the cockpit and all I could feel was splintered shoulder. When I opened my eyes, the cat was a limp washcloth hung up to dry on the yoke.
“I’m not a pilot,” I thought. “Shut up,” was my retort as I wrenched the captain from his seat, took hold of my cat’s perch and strained against the electrical storm in my shoulder.
I held this position eternally, every ounce of my being a physical expression of my faith in the cat. I held it until blackness was all that existed.
“I’m floating. I’m in pain.” These were the only thoughts that mustered through the dream-like state I was in.
In the distance something small was calling out to me.
| 2019-01-05T06:25:54
| 2019-01-05T04:19:36
| 60
| 23
|
[WP] Every thousand years the gods have to each choose a mortal to replace them. You have been chosen, but not for the reasons you expected.
|
"But what if you don't have internet? I mean, it seems like the process kinda favors the richer countries."
*"It only seems that way. It comes in more forms than you know."*
"So, that's it? That's the criteria? The only criteria to become a GOD? You toss out great heroic deeds or a moralistic sense of purpose? Leadership among men? Great belief?"
*"Heroic deeds are rarely done for the reasons purported, people follow those who best let them believe they are right and a deep moralistic sense of purpose can lead to to service the demented desires of but a single soul. No, the rationale we have chosen, we think is very just and honorable."*
"Seriously? Upvotes? Seriously"
|
I looked down at my corpse, blood seeping from the gunshot wound on to the latest arms shipment report.
I looked back up at the well dressed man "so what you're saying is... You had me killed because you liked me?" That was certainly... Novel...
"Well," he said, looking sheepish "not exactly. Did anyone really like you?"
I guess not many people would miss me. Sarah might, but then that was probably just because of the child maintenance cheques. The kids wouldn't, they didn't even know my face. Michelle would, although it must have been two weeks since I last saw her... Or was that Becky?
"I guess not."
"I liked what you did, what you could do. I need a successor, someone who can follow in my work."
Compared to the well dressed man the rest of the world looked grey and lifeless. He looked like he had been placed on top of the world; in the foreground whilst everything else just formed a less important backdrop.
"My predecessor, Jesus, was just a bit too forward for my liking. He seemed to think running around showing off parlor tricks would sort this world out."
"But why *me*. I don't want to listen to prayers; I've never helped anyone when it didn't benefit me, I've lied, deceived and killed," I said with the new-found clarity death had given me.
"Perfect!" He grinned at me "the world was formed six thousand years ago. Do you realize how much trouble I've had making you guys forget that? If you believed that you would get nothing done past of all the grovelling and praying.
"No." He continued, "I need people to believe in science, in advancement. That's how the world will be saved. Not with Jesus's childish ideas of love and trust; not with Moses's ideas of punishment and retribution. Science and intelligence. That's what people need."
The well dressed man seemed to be fading, whilst I started to feel more real. I felt like I had during the best times of my life; like I had just snorted cocaine off the world's most expensive prostitute.
"I need you to lie, I need you to deceive. Place fossils, manipulate radioactive dating results, cover up miracles, encourage religious fanaticism and most of all: don't answer any prayers."
He was almost invisible now, whilst I felt like I could do anything, know anything, take anything I wanted.
"Be a bastard. Humans need technology and advancement now. They do not need you to be nice. They need you to force us, the Gods, into obscurity."
And with that he was gone.
I looked at my hands '*be a bastard...*'. I grinned. This was going to be fun.
| 2014-07-28T09:33:03
| 2014-07-28T09:20:32
| 358
| 103
|
[WP] Your favourite fairy tale, but narrated by the movie trailer guy as an action movie. Start with 'In a world ...' instead of 'Once upon a time ...'.
examples of action movie trailers that start with 'In a world ...' : http://www.timeout.com/chicago/things-to-do/the-10-best-in-a-world-movie-trailers
|
In a world where no one is safe.
“Yes, 911, what is your emergency?”
One woman tries to survive.
“Oh god, they’re eating it. They’re monsters.”
She was a nice old woman in the woods.
“Ma’am, please. They’re eating what exactly?”
They were a boy and girl who would stop at nothing to tear her world apart.
“My house!”
THIS SUMMER
*A girl’s head smashes through the gingerbread wall. A boy’s head smashes through another wall and screeches. They both gnash their teeth.*
**HOLD**
Epic music *The woman runs down a hallway as the lights go out*
**ON**
Drums swell *Gumdrop shingles fall from the roof*
**TO**
Chorus yells latin nonsense *A support candy cane breaks in half and a wall collapses*
**YOUR**
Strings reach a climax *The two of them have her cornered*
**BREADCRUMBS**
Music cuts out *Closeup on woman taking a pie out of the oven. As she steps aside, you can see glowing eyes in the background*
Title Card – **House of Candy**
Roll credits. Follow at ~~#CandyGranny~~ (Editors note: DO NOT USE THAT HASHTAG)
|
In a world, where an evil sorceress takes the law into her own hands...
*Cut to father, begging for mercy and holding handfuls of plants*
One girl must bear the burden of her father's mistakes.
*Show beautiful girl looking out window through prison bars*.
But the Witch will soon realize that she's not the only one willing to mete out justice.
*Cut to shot of handsome young prince, carrying a shining longsword.*
A forbidden romance...
*Show handsome prince at the base of the tower talking up to imprisoned princess*
Leads to a quest for vengeance.
*Show the Prince holding his sword to the Witch's throat.*
This summer... hold on to your hair!
*Cut to prince speaking to witch: "If she doesn't let down her hair, I will look for you, I will find you, and I will kill you."*
**Taken 4: Rapunzel**
| 2015-04-16T08:46:35
| 2015-04-16T08:25:18
| 61
| 41
|
[WP] After a violent revolution, the government of a country is overthrown. You are assigned to guard the cell the former king/president/supreme leader is in before his public execution. He starts a conversation with you.
|
''Where are my sons, where's my wife, where's my daughter?''
''Dead.''
He started crying. It was strange. The man had been the father of the fatherland, built up as one of the great men of history. Practically a god. And now I was watching him, crying. Hardly the man of resolve I had imagined. I felt no pity though.
''They were innocent...''
''Most of them.'' I replied. Two of his eldest sons had been commanders of the most loyal and well-equipped army elements. Division commanders, both of them. They had defended Ashgabat and Turkmenebat with quite some vigour. Both of them had held for years. The tide had turned, eventually, though. One of them killed himself to avoid capture, the other was dragged through the streets of Turkemenebat and ripped apart. Gruesome. I had fought in the Lebap province himself, though I hadn't helped storm Turkmenebat in March. I had seen a video of the lynching though.
''Most..'' the prisoner repeated, enraged. Yes, most of them had been innocent. Still... I had no sympathy for them. I only felt a slight disdain for them, even though I rationally knew they were innocent and hadn't deserved it. Nonetheless, my great hatred for their father overshadowed any rationality or sympathy, so I couldn't help but feel glad for their deaths, smile. At best, I could rationalize it as an unfortunate excess of the revolution. That frightened me a bit, but what was done was done. No use dwelling on it.
''You bunch of fucking sheepfuckers..'' he whispered. I chuckled. There had actually been a few sheepfuckers in my brigade. ''Do you think their deaths, deaths of children, are funny? Do you? Do you?'' he screamed at me. The rage of a god, a storm. Once. Now, it was the rage of a helpless prisoner. I thought it was strange.
In schools we had once chanted praise unto him. Father of the fatherland. Funnily enough, he was no longer a father of anything now. I couldn't help but laugh at that,too. Now I -had- laughed at the death of his children, but I didn't feel too bad about it.
''You fucking idiot, you fucking monster.. I gave this country stability, I gave it wealth! I sent thousands to universities, gave fair treatment to both man and woman!'' he yelled. I would not engage in a debate. I knew the corruption, I knew of the men and women suddenly disappearing and never returning, I knew of all the places where his face was plastered. Mosques, markets, homes, squares, schools. His yelling increased and increased though. It became meaningless background buzzing for me. It did not matter, anyway. I had made my mind up a long time ago.
I opened the door and he stopped for a moment, looking at me with hopeful eyes. I lifted my gun and smacked him with the butt of the gun, knocking him out. A god, undone. I laughed again as the adrenaline surged through me. I had beaten a god. I kicked him in the stomach one more time. I had beaten a god again. I kicked once more. I had beaten a god again. I laughed harder, turned around, walked away and then shut the door again. My laugh echoed through the empty building.
|
"Here you go" I say, as I slide the food tray through the slit on his door.
"Hey, could you, uh-"
"No problem." I take out my flashlight and shine it through the opening, his cell doesn't have a window or even a lightbulb. This is one of the most inhumane prisons that I have ever worked at, made even more inhumane for this particular guy.
"Thanks. Say, uh, Brandon right?"
"It's Stafford, Brandon was last week."
"Right, right, you're the one with 3 kids?"
"Yep"
"How're they doing?"
"They're doing alright, though my wife wants us to go abroad as soon as possible, the whole country's a mess."
"You don't say?" He says while gobbling down on his rice.
"Yeah, heh, it's gonna be a bit chaotic for the next few months, She's thinking maybe somewhere in Europe, but I guess we'll just figure it out when we get to the airport."
"Go to Italy, you won't regret it."
"I'll keep that in mind."
He slides the tray out again, clean as a virgin's cherry. I check to see if the spoon and fork are still there, and I slide the tray to the side, holstering my flashlight again.
"Mind if I ask something?" I say
"Go ahead, I've only got the rest of my life if you think about it."
"Why'd you do it?"
"Why do you think I did it?"
"I don't really know. Some people thought you were power-hungry. Others, such as your supporters, thought you had a vision of a better nation, which couldn't be possible without the use of harsh dictatorship. A few think that you were working with the Chinese."
"The *Chinese*?"
"Yeah, haha, conspiracy theorists and whatnot. And a lot of them thought you were just mad."
"Well it wasn't that last one, I could tell you that."
"So, why *did* you do it?"
He takes a short pause, and says "Does it really matter at this point?"
"I guess not."
5 Hours pass, and I'm at the gate with my family, waiting for our plane. Today was the last day that I needed to work, and the last day that I did work at that awful place. Every single television set there was on the news channel, showing his public execution. I heard a man behind me say "Good riddance."
I thought nothing of it, because honestly, he was right, it really doesn't matter at this point.
| 2014-12-26T08:54:59
| 2014-12-26T08:39:27
| 22
| 10
|
[WP] Your Reddit username decides your profession. How is your first day at work?
If possible. Some usernames just don't work well in this situation.
---
I'm an FBI agent now. Wooo!
You're all under arrest for conspiracy to commit treason.
---
Dear God RIP my inbox
|
I ordered a shot of whiskey,
A slippery nipple and then
I downed six bottles of bud light
And two whiskey sours and gin.
My head is swimming round and round.
My heart is all aflame.
I wonder if my ex is awake I think I'll call him again.
Oh Fuck yeah this is my tune.
Get up!
Let's dance and shout!
This is my jam, my favorite song.
I've got this groove all figured out.
Sweet child o mine, meatloaf, Eminem, and Rhianna.
I'll jump on this table, grab my hand if you wanna.
Oh no the tender is angry,
He is booting me out the door!
It's 2am he explains, its cut off time, no more!
So I walk down the road , lose my keys, and vomit on my shirt. I trip and fall asleep, face first in the dirt.
Here I lie comforted by the cool night air, farting like a sow, but why oh why must I be there?
Because I'm problydrunkrightnow.
|
*Code Orange. Code Orange. We need Doctor Bees in the operating room*
"Over 300 casualties and a few injured. What happened out there?!"
"Doctor, the comb was attacked by a hairy monstrosity. He tore the place apart and it took most of the workers to fend him off"
"Do we have any survivors?"
"Very few, we have drones to cover our losses but it will be hard"
"Who do we have on the table now?"
"Just one so far. He was with the queen an..Oh my gosh. Doctor, Sir Bounce Pennington has major contusions in his lower abdomen. He's bottom half has been ripped apart! He's done for!"
"We need an IV stat!"
"I will not lose another patient. He has diploids at home!"
"He's just a drone sir."
"I don't care what he is! Scalpel now, I can't wait any longer"
| 2016-02-22T11:35:38
| 2016-02-22T11:31:29
| 74
| 30
|
[WP] Everyone is born with a natural tattoo of their spirit animal. Every person gets the traits and abilities of their respective animal. But when you were born your father, having a bear tattoo and your mother, bearing a dove tattoo, were horrified. Leviathan.
Edit. Wow thank you to everyone who submitted thie stories here. Never expected it to blow up this much.
|
It wasn't abnormal to hide your birth mark. Some were just embarrassing. Of course most people didn't hide them, it was a point of pride. My father, for example, never wore a sleeve covering his right arm. He showed it with pride, he was the pale bear of the townstead, always there to help out, the sheriff of the people. A legend in his youth, it's said that he once crushed a man's skull with his bare (bear?) hands. An evil man, with a red viper crawling up his face had tried to rob the general store. Well, not on my father's watch.
My mother, she was a little more conventional. The wee little dove on her collarbone demonstrated her compassion, her love and, well, her unique ability to calm a situation. A pacifist through and through my father would always call her. They were a perfect match, his hot - headedness always being diffused by her gentle nature.
But, ever since I was born, my birth mark had been covered. I'd been dressed in long sleeves since before I can remember. Every night I see it though. A cold blue serpent monster climbing up my left arm, wings sprawling over my back and a mouth filled with a thousand needles ending just on my shoulders. The coal that burned instead of eyes would glare at me, it's hideous hot smile baring those sickening teeth. The leviathan.
It was a monster. A daemon. Something from a nightmare. And yet it was a part of me. I could feel his power and hatred coursing through my veins, just as my father with his bear. It scared me. Well, it used to scare me. Until the day they came to my village.
A small army had come to claim my land for some foreign king. They had begun butchering the men, until my fathering came barrelling in, heavy fists crushing the foreign men beneath him. The town rallied behind him, fighting back these strange invaders. I watched, glued to to the horror. Death followed him to the centre, before a spear pierced his throat.
A scream ripped from my mouth, blood-curdling and sickening. The battle stopped and the invaders and townsfolk staggered back, staring at me. I felt the leviathan within me whisper. 'Kill them all,' he said. The power inside him seeped into me, slowly at first, but soon a storm raged inside me, an almost uncontrollable fury. I glanced into a nearby window and saw my face, a young girl with a hot smile spot welded to her lips, and eyes that glowed like coal. A howl escaped my lips and I let the storm go free.
Edit: Grammar and some spelling mistakes. Obligatory thanks for the gold kind stranger - it's my first one! :D. As a note to everyone who read this and liked this, thank you so much for the support. I've never posted any of my works any where before, and the fact that so many of you enjoyed it makes me incredibly grateful. I have read every comment and I'm so glad that I all of you enjoyed it. I don't know if a part two is coming (I didn't devote much thought to part 1 to be perfectly honest), but I promise I'll keep y'all posted. Also to answer your questions: No I don't have a subreddit, although if I can create another story that impacts people as much as this I will definitely create one. Again thanks to everyone for the kind words, and the love. :D
|
Of Mordecai, 5:9-17
**Thus Came The Serpent From The Waves**
^9 And the Dove lay thus, upon a stranger's bed. And from her eyes did stream tears of agony. For the birth had rendered itself difficult from its conception, the child come too soon, on a night two weeks removed from its rightful date. ^10 And so the Dove lay thus, upon a cold strangers bed, in such agony the Bear did oft hide his face, turning from the sight. And the agony did last through the swarthy night, and did only pass as the child came forth. ^11 But as the child was born unto the Bear and the Dove, another agony did present itself. For upon the babe, stark, cross its back, lay etched the mark of Leviathan.
^12 And seeing the mark, the wisemen and their aides, those that did help bring forth the child, retreated in horror. Casting aside their robes and alchemies, they did flee for fear they would be taken, as all would be taken, now that Leviathan hath come forth upon the world. And as the Bear held the babe, he did let forth an anguished cry, and the Dove hid her face. ^13 And even as her face was turned, she did beg the Bear to slay the child, for to allow it to live was to bring great suffering upon Man. And so the Bear, in a spirit of righteous sacrifice, raised against the child a blade cast aside by a wiseman.
^14 And as the Bear stretched his hand to slay the child, great rivers of blood poured forth from its wounds. And as the child's blood poured forth upon the Bear, the Bear was seared, and in great agony was struck down. And then from the mouth of the child issued sreechings, and wails far removed from the world of Man, and farther removed from the world of Angels. ^15 And the Dove, upon hearing the wails, was struck down, there upon the birthing bed.
^16 And so began the Turning of the Age, the wails of Leviathan multiplying amongst the hordes of Man and Angels. And they did fall, weak hearts failing in the majesty of the sanctity of Leviathan's cries. ^17 And so it came to be, Leviathan, reigning over the dead in holy solitude, forever and ever. Amen.
*Taken from "The Holy Scriptures of the Lord"*
| 2017-11-08T05:04:56
| 2017-11-08T04:45:53
| 8,969
| 195
|
[WP] "So you're saying that these "humans" have 30 colonies in their solar system?" "Yes, and increasing. They don't seem to have the need to colonize habitable planets, they just can colonize these dead planets and moons without a problem."
|
"Damn, do you even *know* what we had to do to get those colonies going?
"Mars was domes and world houses till we got the focusing mirror built in orbit. Then we had the trouble with getting the final lens into that paper thin atmosphere. It kept itself aloft after that, burning the CaCO3 to CaO and CO2. Then we just had to use air tanks going outside for a thousand years as the plants started up. That's why there's a 80 km canal around Mars' equator. We put it there!
"Venus was a pain in the ass, too - we had to put up another planet-sized mirror to freeze that bitch, so we could chuck it's frozen atmosphere into space. Made use of that stupid atmosphere in our colonies, but damn, that was hard. Redirecting ice from Saturn's rings was comparatively easy.
"But what was really hard was spinning that bitch up. You don't get habitable weather system without at least a ninety hour day. Laying down that superconductor cable around the equator, and then releasing the cloud of microbots in orbit to turn the whole planet into a giant motor - Venus was *hard*.
"The Moon, that was more an accident. Turns out for a body that small, you can hold an atmosphere for about a thousand years, and you only need a few billion tons of gas to support a nominal pressure. Industrial operations mining the surface for the space colonies inadvertently generated that much.
"The colonies, remember? Those paired spinning flowers at the Lagrange Points? They were made from Lunar metals, quartz, and slag, launched by rail gun then assembled in orbit. They're paired to counter each others rotation gyroscopically. Quartz windows to let in the sun, metal frame and mirrors, and slag two meters thick to keep out the radiation. We've got 'em at all the Lagrange points, but L4 and L5 are the most stable.
"Then there's the world-houses we built on Mercury, the mining domes on Io, and Titan for that matter...
"Honestly, you act like finding a place to live is hard. Finding them isn't hard.
"Making them livable, that's hard. And we've gotten good at that. I assume that's why you bastards have abducted me and my crew off the asteroid we were carving out. Well, lay it on me, what the hell kinda world do you need fixed up?"
|
This is my very first writing prompt. Any critiques and tips would be very much appreciated.
A meeting. In a dark and limitless void. A multicolored spotlight shines on a creature beyond your comprehension. A Booming Voice comes from the Beyond.
"I'm afraid it's terminal."
The creature vibrates in a movement that you would call taking a breath. Its voice has a slight tremble to it.
"How did this happen? How was this missed?"
"It started as just a small spot on one of the smallest planets in one of the smallest solar systems. We did everything we could to prevent it from spreading, to make the surrounding environment as hostile as possible, and yet it's spread to thirty new areas within the system. It's extremely aggressive and shows no signs of slowing down. It doesn't seem to need habitable planets, it's been colonizing dead planets and moons while bringing the necessary supplies from the planet of origin. Already the planet of origin has deteriorated beyond recognition. The other colonies are quickly becoming the same. We've done all we can, now we must act in defense of the rest of the Universe."
The creature shudders and then becomes still.
"How long do we have?"
"A few millenia, give or take. It's going to start spreading to your other systems and once it reaches your outermost edges we will have to retire you to prevent it from spreading to other Galaxies."
The Trembling Voice seems to sink into itself.
"Several billion years, and this is how it ends."
"Our apologies are as vast as the furthest reaches of our Holy Universe. We have done all we can, but we cannot allow this to turn into an outbreak. We shall leave you to your preparations."
The void seemed to expand within itself, somehow creating space between the two creatures in an already limitless vacuity. They shuddered in synchronicity as, unnoticed, a small spot leapt from the Trembling One and latched onto a planet on the Booming One's outermost edges.
| 2017-12-07T14:10:39
| 2017-12-07T08:35:59
| 26
| 16
|
[WP]: Two characters with no common language are forced into an arranged marriage. Due to the language barrier, they have vastly different ideas of the nature of the situation.
|
(Hover over the marked text to read the spoilers/translations)
****
After the ceremony, the vows at the altar, the exchange of rings, the kiss, and finally the dance, the newlyweds found themselves in a horse carriage on the way back to the castle. Brian’s father, who also happened to be the king, had arranged the whole thing with the invading savages. The Swedish Vikings had plagued the land for decades, and this was the deal that would end the raids – the marriage between the crown prince and the Viking chieftain’s daughter.
“Hey, are you quite all right?” Brian said and looked over at his bride. “I promise I won’t touch you if you don’t want me to.”
Frida pulled at her dress. “[Jag förstår inte ett ord av vad du säger, men jag ser fram emot att komma ur denna klänning.](/s "I don't get a word you're saying, but I'm looking forward to getting out of this dress.")
”
“I’m not very fond of this arrangement either,” Brian said.
“[Hur långt är det kvar till slottet?](/s "How far is it to the castle?")” Frida said and ripped the sleeve off her dress. “[Är du bra i säcken?](/s "Are you good in the sack?")”
“I’m sorry you had to wear that. I’m sure the dresses you have back home are much more comfortable.”
“[Snackar alla engelsmän så här mycket?](/s "Does every englishman talk this much?")” Frida said with a scowl. “[Ta mig på golvet bara.](/s "Just take me on the floor already.")”
“I get that you’re upset – I am too. But let’s make the best of the situation, okay?”
“[Herregud, detta endlösa babbel,](/s "Oh my god, this endless chatter,")” Frida said and rolled her eyes. “[Det är som att man hamnat i Norge.](/s "It's like I've ended up in Norway.")”
Finally, the carriage arrived at the castle. The spires of gray rock almost pierced the clouds. Brian helped Frida down and then showed her into his chambers. She sat down on the royal bed, still fidgeting with the dress.
“I get it if you don’t want to consummate the marriage.” Brian gently put his hand on her shoulder. “It’s okay. I’ll even sleep on the couch; do you want me to sleep on the couch?”
“[Äntligen rör du mig; det tog sin lilla tid,](/s "Finally you're touching me; that took some time,")” she said and nodded vigorously. ”[Började tro att du var bög.](/s "Was starting to think you were gay.")”
”Okay, then,” Brian said and walked over to couch.
“[Kom igen då!](/s "Come on, then!")” Frida said, and pulled her dress down.
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Brian said and covered his eyes. “I’ll give you some privacy. I’ll be in the next room if you need me.”
He had been the perfect gentleman given the situation, and perhaps after enough time Frida would come to like him. She was a very pretty young woman, and any man would be proud to call her his wife. He sighed and left the room.
“[Men för i helvete!](/s "What the hell!")” Frida said, and sighed.
****
[r/Lilwa_Dexel](https://www.reddit.com/r/Lilwa_Dexel/comments/5foev0/welcome/)
[Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/6dt0fl/wp_write_a_story_in_two_or_more_languages_it/di58qzt/)
|
The wind was strong today. Stronger than I have ever seen before. So strong that it uprooted the ancient oak tree and catapulted it into our windmill. I never thought I'd see either our sturdy oak tree or our strong mill fall. But, as branches and rocks lay scattered across the ground and the wooden blades were hanging from a splinter, I realized that even the constants were not infallible. My father too, the voice of reason, the kind-hearted, was also not infallible. To grant me a "better life", he sold me into slavery.
It was an american man. He was big, loud, and ugly. He came in a truck with a load of cash. American dollars. I've never seen American Dollars before. But he had tons. They look like monopoly money. Before I knew it, I was signing my name on a document with the american and whisked away from my country. My home.
We arrived in the "land of the free" except I was not free. I was to be his slave. He brought me to this big house and showed me around. I was on the verge of tears. It was so big! How was I to clean all of it?
He brought me to the kitchen. It was around midday so he must expect me to cook him some food. However, when he pushed me into a chair and started to rustle through the cabinets himself, laughing and yabbering on all the while. He brought out some food and turned on the oven. He was making a meal? I was a slave. Was I not supposed to be the one cooking?
These strange occurrences carried on throughout the day. He would do stuff for me. Me, his slave. What did he want me for then? Company? He had paid my father all that money for company? I could not understand it.
Then, that night, I understood everything. He had an intense look in his eyes as he led me to his bedroom. He pushed me up against the door and his big fat hand creeped down and down until it reached for my dress. He slid his hand up my skirt. Yes, I was a slave - I was a sex slave.
| 2017-05-27T11:22:59
| 2017-05-27T10:16:53
| 2,339
| 262
|
[WP] A "popular" girl falls in love with a "nerdy" boy, however he hates her and she spends all her time trying to impress him
EDIT: THANK YOU ALL FOR TAKING YOUR TIME TO WRITE SHORT STORIES BASED OFF MY PROMPT!! I HAVE YET TO READ ALL YOUR STORIES THOUGH, AS I'M BUSY WITH SCHOOL AND OTHER STUFF :D
I'm sorry if I have somehow ripped off your precious harem animes. That was completely unintentional. (I don't even watch anime that much)
I'm sorry if this prompt is too uncreative for you guys. Maybe next time I'll post one that's "different" enough but not so unique that I'd probably end up writing a novel about one day (I have dreams that shall never be fulfilled)
I'm sorry if I have triggered anyone somehow.
|
Jess Brown was hands-down the most popular girl in year 11. She was lucky enough to possess the dangerous combination of good looks and great intelligence, causing those around her to almost naturally fall into place as her followers.
Despite being as blessed as she was, Jess was not an arrogant person. If anything, she liked to take the back seat and observe those around her. She liked to figure out how people worked. What motivated them. Every time she believed she'd got the measure of someone, she'd try out her theory. If she was successful then she could add said person to her 'collection' - those who she believed she had power over.
Boys were easy, and men even easier so. She could get a boys pulse racing and have him do any favour for her she wanted just by undoing her top button and flirting ever so slightly. She once got a man at her local store to straight-up buy her cigarettes just by smiling at him and giggling at everything he said. But that was far too easy.
No, Jess Brown wanted a new challenge. But who?
There wasn't a single boy from the 'popular group' she hadn't collected in her year, and there doesn't exist a word smith with enough skill to convince her to waste her time on a younger male. As she sat in the lunch hall, absent mindedly picking at a bright red apple, she saw a boy walk past. A boy who she hadn't seen before. Bingo.
Jess sat up in her chair as she surveyed him, like a predator hunting her prey. How would she approach him? What would she use to capture his attention? God, she loved this. The thrill of taking someone down. Using her natural gifts of beauty and brains to see if she could charm and seduce those around her. She didn't like to think like this, but a small part of her felt like she was superior to her peers. Like she was a goddess surrounded by mere mortals. Megan Cartwright, a normal looking girl who looked even more startlingly average when sat next to Jess was trying to engage her in a conversation. Jess ignored her. She didn't have time to listen to trivial gossip and she wasn't in the mood to have everyone's opinions on who was going to win this years *Britain's Got Talent*.
Her mind was racing as she looked him up and down. His uniform seemed clean. She could see his shirt was tucked evenly into his trousers and his blazer fit him well. His trousers hitched up slightly as he walked and she noted his plain black socks underneath. She frowned slightly- he was giving very little away. She couldn't see much of his face, but his black hair seemed messy and almost like he'd not paid it much attention. Well, that was no use to her, half the boys in school were doing that these days. Then she spotted it, under his right arm he was carrying a book. A book to read at *lunch* time?
He's a nerd.
She had work to do.
Jess stood up, and walked over to where the new boy sat reading his book. He was alone. She smirked, this was a good sign for her. A lack of social skills suggests he's nervous or maybe even shy, meaning it was be easy for her to overwhelm him with (hopefully) some of her more basic methods of flattery.
She sat opposite him, and was slightly taken aback when he didn't immediately acknowledge her presence. Jessica Brown was not given to being ignored. Softly, she cleared her throat. The boy looked up, and she gasped.
Staring back at her were a pair of eyes that held more depth and mystery than any which she had ever encountered before. They were dark, and shining. In that one moment which seemed to last forever, she saw *into him*. Intelligence, maturity, dignity, charisma... Jess was stunned.
Without even knowing what she was doing, her hand slowly moved up and she did up her top button. That would not work on him. A dry smile slowly stretched across his face.
'Yes?' Was the only word he spoke.
Such brevity. Such confidence. He'd only spoken one word yet she felt like he'd just pelted her with a thousand. *Why are you here? What do you want? Can't you see I'm reading? Do you really think you can 'collect' me?'*
What was *that?* Jess was flustered.
'I.. uh... I just saw you sitting here and I- well, what's that you're reading?'
He paused in thought for a few moments before he replied, and for the first time in her life Jess felt the balance of power change. She gulped while she waited.
'We both know you're not interested in my book, although that's a great shame. It's one of Dostoevsky's greatest pieces. I often find the lunch hall a great place to sit. You see, the library isn't for me. Too much hubbub, too many people bothering me, and if there's one thing I dislike, it's being bothered without reason...'
His eyes lingered over her as he spoke, and Jess had never felt so insignificant in her life.
'Forgive me if I seem confrontational,' he continued 'but I think I know why you came over here. I won't be charmed by cleavage and a cute smile. So if there's nothing else...?' He gestured to her that he wanted to continue reading.
Jess knew when to cut her losses. The best thing she could do now was leave and think of a new way to approach him, the worst thing she could do would be to remain in her upset state and try to appease someone who appeared to see right through her. She was in a state of shock. This was perhaps the first time she'd ever approached a male who appeared utterly uninterested.
Jess stood up and left, catching her leg on the corner of the table and tripping slightly as she went. She heard a soft chuckle behind her.
'What happened?' gushed Megan and the other girls at once.
'You look a bit red, Jess.'
'What did he say?'
'Did he just look over here?'
Jess turned around in a whirl of anger. She could feel hot tears forming in her eyes, but she wouldn't show any weakness in front of these lot.
'None of you are to talk to him, or to tell anyone what happened here. Understood?'
Silenced, the group of girls solemnly nodded.
And with that, Jess left the lunch hall.
Meanwhile, the boy with black eyes deftly licked a finger, turned his page and continued reading.
|
Jonathan ran, his arms outstretched behind him, like the wings of a mighty bird of prey. He flew through the classroom leaping past desks and his classmates alike. He stopped at Billy's desk and karate chopped the papers and books onto the floor. Jonathan squealed in glee as he fled the scene at breakneck speed.
It was recess and only Billy remained at his desk going over See Jack Run over and over. For such a classical piece of literature Billy thought it was remarkably difficult to understand. Billy took his time though, he was going to be smart, he was going to graduate and finally make the millions he had dreamt about his whole life. Billy knew he could achieve anything he set his mind to, so he set his sights on the books before him.
Julie watched from across the room, surrounded by her usual gaggle of giggling girls and the occasional boy who managed to muster enough courage to try and actually talk to her. She was queen bee, and the swarm of boys that buzzed around the room amused her. Julie knew that with a word, any of these boys would quit showing off and do whatever she asked. All of them except Billy. She looked at Jonathan as he ran up to her to collect his reward; a small hug, and a smile that was thought to be a major factor of global warming by those blessed enough to receive one. Jonathan tried to talk to her, but he was quickly dismissed by Julie's annoyed look. The girls closed ranks around Julie, scavenging Jonathans momentary attentiveness to boost their own standings. The vultures, thought Julie, but only for a moment as she looked back at Billy struggling his way through Math now. Julie mumbled to softly to herself, thinking of new schemes to once and for all have every person in the class recognize her greatness. A small thought emerged in her pretty little head, if she could just have Billy, she would need anyone else.
Billy sat in his usual chair at the front of the class, he had transferred a week ago, and was still completely oblivious to the social interactions of his classmates. That suited him well though, all Billy needed was his studies. If only that girl Julie would stop trying to get my attention, Billy thought. Once again another boy flew past knocking Billy's school supplies onto the floor. Billy shook his head, he knew he was a bit bigger than the other kids, but Billy knew violence would only get him in trouble. He lowered his head back into the crevasse of his math book and tried to figure out why some numbers were so darn smug. Darn prime numbers, think their better than everyone else, Billy thought.
She had done all the classic moves; laughed at all his jokes, picked him for her group projects; she had even gone so far as to pinch AND punch him, in one day nonetheless. What else would it take to get Billy to notice her, Julie contemplated. Finally she had had it, a week had passed and graduation was approaching quickly for Billy, she had to act fast. With the help of her friends and lackeys, no one knew which they were, Julie created her grandest scheme yet. She would make him love her even if she had to do so by force. On the day of Billy's graduation Julie put on her cutest outfit and ran to class, she was determined to kiss him before he left. Everyone in the class knew her plan except the teacher and of course Billy himself.
Billy knew something was wrong as he entered the classroom for his last time, he was finally moving on to the next grade. As he walked through the door Julie leapt from the side and grasped his neck firmly in her arms as she went for her big moment, but Billy brought one hand around and stopped her lips cold with his oddly large palm.
Julie was stunned, "WHY" she screamed. "Why don't you like me", she hadn't meant to be so loud, but the rejection shook her to the core.
Billy stumbled back shocked, "WHY", he said incredulously. "I'm 27 years old, that is WHY" Billy whined.
I haven't seen Billy in some time, but as his former teacher I do keep track of my students. I hear Billy is doing quite well, something about a hotel chain. Very impressive stuff. Julie never recovered from the incident. I hear she became some kind of public relations director at a golf course, but the man she is with is just horrible, some ass named Shooter McGavin. I do hope she find someone better someday. Oh well, till next time, on stories from behind the teachers desk.
| 2016-05-29T11:33:33
| 2016-05-29T10:33:11
| 50
| 13
|
[WP] Every time you sneeze you find yourself in someone else's body. It's usually no real problem; you change back in 60 seconds. This time when you sneeze you find your tied up. In front of you is guys with guns. "Alright Franky, you got 30 seconds to explain why we shouldn't kill your ass"
|
I've had to improvise before. My condition lands me in dire straits more often than not - a CEO giving a presentation, a construction worker handling heavy machinery, a pilot landing a plane - things like that.
I've learned how to handle everything it throws at me, more or less.
It started when I was 10. My brother and I were in the kitchen, helping mom with dinner. I was getting the salt and pepper bottles out of the cabinet -- I guess the lid wasn't screwed on right. Pepper spilled all over my face, and then I felt it.
*The tug*.
You know that feeling you get right before a big sneeze? That tightness between your eyes? That's the tug. It pulls everyone a little, but I'm one of the few who it *catches*. It felt like an eternity and an instant passing simultaneously. Like my body was being stretched and squished and catapulted through space at the speed of light.
Release came. Eternity passed. I sneezed. And when my eyes opened, I wasn't me anymore - I was *her*. I still don't know her name. But I remember the look of the man in the dark who was there with her. And I remember her pain. At the time, I couldn't process what was happening. It felt like a strange nightmare. And that's what everyone said - my parents, the counselors - that I'd simply passed out and had a vivid nightmare.
But it *felt* real.
It happened only a couple more times over the next several years. I managed not to be sick very often, and I avoided pepper and cats (my only allergy) like the plague. Each time, doctors. But I didn't tell anyone about the dreams anymore.
Until, when I was 15, I saw *him* \- the man in the dark. I wasn't sure at first - but that face was seared into my memory. He was right there on TV, going to prison. The ticker rolled across the bottom of the screen, outlining his crimes. I read what he was going to prison for. And I knew it was real. The weight of it hit me like a ton of bricks. All the emotions I'd buried for so long came rushing to the surface - along with the worst sneezing fit of my entire life.
I must have been jumping for hours - one right after the other. Hundreds of lives, like a tornado of emotions, feelings, and experiences, all happening at once, all on top of the weight I already carried. I couldn't control it and I couldn't escape it. At first, I was a weeping mess, leaving confused onlookers in the wake of whatever lives I left behind. Then when the jumps didn't stop, I started timing them. Always 60 seconds exactly. I even tried to sneeze again while in a jump - no dice.
Then I found myself falling - fast. The punch of adrenaline and the rush of air hit me hard. I was flailing wildly, with no control. I tried looking around, but I was spinning so fast, it was hard to make anything out - all I could see was flashes of blue and brown and green. I was started to feel sick, and the blood was rushing to my head. I grabbed at my - *his* \- body frantically. Was that a harness? *A parachute*. I felt for the release. Pulled as hard as I could. Nothing.
I knew the ground, somewhere far below me, was rushing up to meet me. It was all I could do to keep counting.
Twenty.
*Don't these things have a secondary chute?*
I found it. Pulled it. Nothing again.
Ten.
*What happens now? What if he dies while I'm in his head?*
Five.
I closed my eyes.
*Two.*
*One.*
The world went black.
When I woke up, I was lying on the ground, blood running down my face, the life and energy completely drained out of me. I struggled to remember my name.
But then it came back. And I remembered. *It was real.*
Did I make it out in time? Or did the skydiver die? Over the next few days, I scoured the news for skydiving deaths, but found nothing. No failed chutes, no reports anywhere. Then I had a realization. I changed my search to Spanish, and there it was. A South American skydiver's chute failed to open two days ago. Miraculously, he lived.
One question answered - it was *definitely* real. But another wasn't. *What if they die?*
After that, everything changed again. I had a choice to make - to play the victim and run away scared, or find a way to control what was happening to me. So I started preparing. Learning other languages. Familiarizing myself with weapons. Taking flying lessons. Anything and everything I could think of - I dedicated my life to learning it.
Then I started jumping on purpose. After some experimentation, I found the perfect mixture of cat hair, pepper, pollen, and dust to trigger just one, heavy tug. This became my drug. Living other people's lives was an adrenaline rush I craved.
I've been a movie star. An astronaut. A baby. A fisherman. A woman living deep in the jungle. A man living atop a high-rise in Dubai. A leper. An addict drying out. A soldier.
I've jumped off of buildings, meditated in the Himalayas, raced in the Indy 500, and learned deep secrets poured out to me by confidantes in mid conversation.
Of course, it's not always exciting. Sometimes I'm just sitting in a chair.
But other times... other times, I'm reminded of that first jump. It doesn't happen often, but when it does, I've trained myself to quickly scan my environment and look for hints about who I've haunted or where I've ended up. I've managed to save a few people here and there.
But then came today. Unremarkable in every way. I was winding down my evening how I did most, sitting on my couch, jumping until I found someone interesting. I was an accountant. A hairdresser. A child watching TV. A teenager watching.... something else. I wrote him a note.
And now.
I'm bound to a chair. Handcuffs around my arms and legs. The room is dark. A spotlight is shining on me. My face is wet, and my jaw feels wrong. I can only see out of one eye. Pain shoots up my leg. Three men stand above me, guns trained on my head. The one in front wraps a towel around his bloodied hand, and I hear him say in his heavy Brooklyn accent,
"Alright Franky, you got 30 seconds to explain why we shouldn't kill your ass."
It's then that I see the mirror behind the thugs. I crane my neck to peer into it, and I'm shocked at what I see.
Despite the clearly broken jaw and the black eye, the face is unmistakable. I'd know it anywhere. It's seared into my dreams.
It's the man in the dark. I'm *him*.
"Ten seconds Franky." The thug cocks his weapon.
I stare up into his eyes.
I make sure to enunciate clearly.
"Fuck. You."
The world goes black.
|
3 angry dudes were in front of me, with who seemed the leader threatening me with a quite scary military knife.
**59:47**
*Okaaaaay, take a deep breath Sam. You have been through worse situations like when you possessed the superintendent the moment he was enjoying some quality BDSM time.*
**56:28**
"Hey motherfucker, did that hit earlier turn you dumb huh?"
*Analize.*
I was tied to a chair in what appeared to be a dark basement. They have a knife and 2 clubs. *No firearms*
**52:13**
"Are you..."
"Shut the fuck up you blonde bastard." *It's showtime.*
I said while liberating my hands from the ropes.
"Son of a..." Before he could even react I restrained him and threw him to his subordinates.
*Whoa! This body is good!*
**50:00**
I gave the mobs a good ninja like hit in their necks, putting them to sleep.
*I feel awesome, does this dude train Kung Fu or something?*
I walked out of the basement and saw a little girl gagged and tied on the floor.
She seemed asleep. Following the instincts my body was sending me I removed all the nuisances and left her in a comfortable position on a sofa that was near.
*The furniture seems to be from the 70s, did I end in the past this time?*
**33:56**
Following my code of actions, I searched for a paper to write about what I did to prevent the owner from freaking out after I return.
**09:09**
*Should I at least see how I look like?*
**07:44**
Picking up a mirror I dust off the surface.
**06:13**
*This is gross, is this spider dung?*
**04:38**
*Wait...*
**02:59**
*Noooo way.*
**01:36**
*I am Bruce Lee!*
**00:00**
Returning to the present, I googled Bruce Lee and found out that he surprisingly was truly nicknamed Franky by the neighborhood.
But something was weird. *How come I'm getting images from an old ass man that... Resembles him?*
*Oh shit. I fucked up.*
| 2018-11-15T13:48:47
| 2018-11-15T13:27:12
| 353
| 59
|
[WP] "I WILL NOT LISTEN TO THIS ANY LONGER" "But Your Majesty, the prophe-" "You want me to send a GODDAMN TEENAGER TO FIGHT WHEN WE HAVE TRAINED SOLDIERS"
|
"I assure you, Your Majesty, that the prophecy is quite clear on the matter. '*For the threat of the Dark One shall loom over all until such time as the Chosen One shall step forth and end the dreadful threat forever. Ye shall know the Chosen One by the seven signs, and the seven feats, and the sev-*'"
"YES, Yes, thank you VERY MUCH, Brother Calhart, as if I didn't have enough frustrations with the sheer stupidity of your proposal, you go and remind me why I had to learn that damned Septimal number system as a boy. A number system that is used only by your church's elders for daily business, and only by the rest of us to count the days of the week. Is the entire rest of your argument about to give me an apoplectic fit?!"
"Well, Sire, the fact of the matter is that four of the signs have identified the Chosen One, and he-"
"FOUR! Out of SEVEN! Did you not just say it needed to be Seven Signs? Well, did you?"
The cleric took a deep breath to calm his nerves, and if his left hand gripped the icon of his order in a silent prayer for patience, the king's focused gaze clearly chose to ignore the gesture. "The remaining Three Signs will be demonstrated as he faces the Trials, but as the Fourth Sign occurs only at the 77-year interlude of the Holy Comet, which passed a fortnight ago, it would be impossible for another to emerge in our lifetimes, oh wise king. And the event was witnessed, he possesses the necessary Spark, we have tested this extensively. He IS the Chosen One, Sire, and as such we must set him on the journey now so that the remaining Signs can mark him and the Trials can be met. Or do you intend to allow your loyal, trained soldiers to face the threat of the Dark One's armies and certain death at the hands of the Dark One when they find themselves unable to kill him?"
"So, you would have me hold my soldiers back, allow the Dark One the time to grow his power until it would nearly overwhelm the entire kingdom, and then trust our fate to a single, untrained adolescent male? Will you be personally keeping the lad hidden to prevent him from getting himself killed by assassins? How about keeping him from horses, lest the boy die by getting kicked in the head when he spooks his loyal steed?"
"Are you jesting, Sire?"
"Are you? Is the entirety of your Church nothing more than a generations-long running joke? Because between the stupid counting system and the insanity on that dusty old scroll I begin to think the whole thing is an absurdist satire."
"Would you prefer to send your soldiers to their certain, premature doom?" asked Brother Calhart, finally putting a bite into his words.
"And if we wait for the Dark One to amass an army of all the evil creatures he can bind, won't my soldiers die then?"
"Most will, Sire," replied the cleric. "But some will survive, and you can give your soldiers some more time while the Chosen One prepares to meet destiny. This is as the Gods will it to be."
"Well, then the gods willed it that I should stand here and try something. But very well, let us trust to the gods. I will take the army now and deal with the Dark One, because I know that should work, and you can go and do whatever else needs doing to get the Chosen One ready. And since your faith is so great and your prophecy so holy, you should be happy to realize that you'll be right, and I'll be dead. Away with you now," the king said, shooing the priest like a cat too close to the milk bowl.
"As you wish, Sire. I shall weep for the unnecessary losses," Calhart said, before offering a small bow and turning to depart the audience chamber.
After a moment, the king turned to look at his High Marshal. "Well, Hal, that was about as pleasant as a visit from my mother-in-law, and just as unproductive."
"Not quite, Your Majesty," the old soldier said. "The Revered Lady of Sommerfelt does actually know horses, and the Cavalry is all the better for her preferred method of paying her taxes."
"So, what would you do?"
"Everything you proposed should be done. We can win right now. We just can't kill the Dark One. Doesn't mean we can't capture him, throw him in the dungeons for a decade, chained up and unfed. Once the Chosen One completes the Trials, we hold one of our own. Drag the Dark One, or whatever is left, out to the public square, make a show of allowing him a chance to defend himself, pass the judgment we both know is deserved, and the Chosen One shoots the Dark One with a crossbow bolt or two to kill that blighter off for good. Maybe burn the body and scatter the ashes, just to be certain."
"Very well, best go tell the wife I'm calling the troops up and going on campaign. She'll be pissed at having to take these meetings while we're out. Send word where you need, we leave in the morning."
"At your command, Sire."
|
Because of your wit and knowledge, you've become a very wise and prosperous king. Your subjects are loyal to you and you provide benefits for your workers. The oracle in front of you now is one such worker. You cannot help but to think how you have housed her and fed her when no one was willing to pay for her services, and now she comes to you with a prophecy.
"Your son," she says, wearily glancing at the young man, "He is the chosen one, meant to travel to the far land, past the closest town, and return a wealthy man. If he does not, your kingdom will surely fall."
You lean forward to peer down at her, eyes hardened towards her face as she sinks into whimpers.
She doesn't want to bring this news to you, but felt it was her duty. She tells you the god Maralius came to her while she was by the river last night. She confides in you that the God demanded her only tell your son, but she felt you must know as well.
Maralius was a cruel trickster, but has always been kind to your people. In your reign he hasn't bothered you or your kingdom. You glance at your son, "Joseph?"
"Yes, father?" Joseph replies. He is by no means scrawny. He's a fairly average boy with shaggy hair that looks like yours did, bright eyes that love to peruse the court, and freckles speckled strongly across his cheeks and collar.
"You won't be going." His face fell slightly at your dismissal, and you returned your attention to the Oracle, who was still on her knees looking at you, "As for you. I want you to see Maralius and tell him I will send as many trained people as he wants and as many soldiers as he may need but by no means will anyone younger than official be anywhere but my fertile ground."
The oracle did not respond to you, instead slowly rising and slinking off to, no doubt, tell the few people who would speak to her how horrible you had treated her. Some people just aren't very grateful.
| 2022-10-28T16:04:02
| 2022-10-28T14:16:49
| 50
| 11
|
[WP] many young adults claim to have seen a tv show called "teletubbies" as kids, but there is no record of such a show existing.
Shamelessly stolen from vinny vinesauce
|
Leo sat on the train looking out the window. He loved traveling in train. There was something romantic about it, the quite noise, the careful ruffle and the whole world passing by. He was miles from home but it looked exactly like home. The sun was shining through the trees , blinding his eyes so he turned away from the window, looking down the aisle. A baby was smiling in its mothers lap, unaware of the world around, just happy to be there. The baby's laugh reminded him of a show he used to watch as a kid, Teletubbies. The premise of the show seems very vague and ridiculous thinking back on it. Four... Somethings, living in some house. A house was it? Perhaps it looked like the house in which Luke Skywalker grew up in, a globeshaped building with a subterranean living room. Wasn't it like a vacuum cleaner of some sorts in the mix? Sounds strange thinking back on it. He remembered vaguely a vacuum cleaner with eyes who had a life on of its own, stealing the Teletubbies pancakes.
Pancakes? Leo smiled back on the memory. Stupid show. No wonder his generation became what it is.
He picked up his phone and opened the Safari application.
"T-e-l-e-t"... The Google search suggestion spelled it out for him. He looked down the list.
"Teletubbies"
"Teletubbies name"
"Teletubbies gay"
"Teletubbies real"
Teletubbies real? Did people actually Google if their were real Teletubbies? Must be some cosplay thing.
First hit was a link to some Internet forum he wasn't familiar with.
"Was the "Teletubbies" real? it read.
He scrolled down. All the links were real.
"Why can't I find any videos or pictures from the Teletubbies show?"
"What happened to the Teletubbies"
"Did I make up the Teletubbies?"
What is this? Leo thought to himself? Must be some internet joke I missed.
An hour went past. The sun had gone down, the baby down the aisle slept quietly and Leo's battery level was down on 18%. He couldn't believe what was going on. There was no record of a show called the Teletubbies has ever existed, but yet thousands of people online had the same memory of a show called "Teletubbies" with four furry tubbies with televisions in the stomach and a sun with a baby's face in it. Leo was sweating and was honestly scared. He looked down his aisle again. He felt as if they were all part of this. The baby was planted there. The mother was a spy, or something. The conductor, he must have been part of this. They were all coming to get him. A flash of reality hit Leo when he looked out the window, the train had stopped at his stop. He flew up grabbed his bag and flew out the door, just as the whistle blew and the trains doors closed.
Where was his mother? He looked around. He station was almost empty save three backpackers about the same age as him looking at a map and a middle-aged man in a suit. He ran up to the man and grabbed him by the collar.
"WHAT HAPPENED TO THE TELETUBBIES!?!" he yelled so loud he scares himself. The man was so startled he could utter a word.
"WHY DIDN'T THEY EXIST?! WHAT IS THIS!"
"LET ME GO!" the man screamed and pushed him away. More angered than before Leo was getting ready to fight the man when he felt somebody grab him from behind and wrestle him down.
Leo screamed "LET ME GO LET ME GO" and kicked his legs so hard he shoe fell off and he kicked his foot so hard in asphalt she screamed out of pain.
A voice told him
"Over the hills and far away,
Teletubbies come and play".
He opened his eyes and saw on of the backpackers standing over him.
"What did you say?" Leo asked him, staring into his eyes. He couldn't tell if they were cynical or kind. The backpacker looked away.
"Help him up"
They lifted him up and he stood in his feet. What was that accent? Leo looked around. The suit was gone. He didn't realize how dark it was. Had he passed out? Where was his mother? She was suppose to pick him up.
"It's not easy when you first realize it, huh?"
Leo looked back at him, confused. The backpacker sneered at him.
"It's all true. Or not true, depending how you look at it I suppose. The Teletubbies never existed"
Leo looked at him. He couldn't quite tell if he was helping or mocking him.
"But... But why do I know about it? Why does so many people remember the show it it never existed"
The backpackers sneered fell as he looked down the station, watching as a train was arriving.
"I don't know. Nobody know. But we aim to find out. We managed to find out via Internet forums that the show originated here in the U.K. , in a little town called Stratford-upon-Avon"
"Shakespeare's birthplace" another of the backpackers filled in, smiling at Leo.
"Exactly. We're so close now, we hope... Let him go, here's our train".
The two others let him go and they walked away from him towards the newly arrived train. A group of people left, walking down towards the exit. Finally Leo saw his mothers waving at him.
He watched as the backpackers entered the train, still confused.
"Wait! he shouted, and the leader of the three turned around, awaiting the question.
"But... Why is it that only some people know what it is? Why didn't the suit man know what I was talking about?"
The backpacker smiled, looking up towards the sky. Just as the door was closing he answered:
"Because, only 90s kids remember."
|
"There was a whole controversy about them!" Linda said. "This televangelist thought that one of them was gay because he had a - that thing on his head was a triangle! And it was like a pink triangle, except he was purple. And he, uh, he carried a man-purse."
Jared looked at her from over his phone. "Okay, that sounds sort of familiar, but you have to admit that none of that makes any sense and sounds like complete bullshit."
"But you remember it, don't you?" Linda insisted.
"I dunno. I remember something about a gay controversy, sure. But I don't remember anything about the pink-purple triangles or whatever it was you said." Jared shrugged. "I figured it was because they all looked gay as hell."
"Ugh!" Linda slammed her phone down on the table. *No results found for* **teletubbies**, it read on the screen. "How else do you explain it, then? We both remember the Teletubby show, and we both remember there was a gay controversy about it. That has to mean something!"
"It's our brains remembering something different," Jared said, turning his attention back to his phone. "There are gay controversies about everything. Some dude thought Spongebob was gay. I wouldn't ...."
"What?" Linda said irritably. "You wouldn't what?"
"Holy shit," Jared whispered, turning his phone to her. "You were right. I found it. Some dude wrote an entire wiki page about it."
"What?!" She was on her feet, peering at the screen. "How'd you find that? I couldn't find anything on the internet!"
"I'm really good at googling. Particularly obscure stuff." She moved behind his shoulder so they could read the page together.
"This is it, this is it," Linda said, nodding. "Multi-colored toddlers, television screens implanted in their abdomens ... Wait, two Daytime Emmys?"
"Holy shit," Jared said. "'A single based on the show's theme song reached number 1 in the UK Singles Chart in December 1997 and remained in the Top 75 for 32 weeks, selling over a million copies.'"
Linda scrolled down the page rapidly. "The 'Tubbytronic Superdome'? 'Reluctant, but eventually obedient Teletubbies'? What the fuck? Who wrote this?"
"Some weirdo." He checked the page history. "Buncha weirdos." He quickly clicked back. "Okay, here are the different Teletubbies. Here's the purple one with the triangle, like you said. Nothing about him being gay, though."
"Dipsy ... he's green," Linda mumbled. "Most stubborn ... 'His face is notably darker than the rest of the Teletubbies, and the creators have stated that he is black'??"
"Supporting characters..." Jared read. "'The Tiddlytubbies (voiced by Teresa Gallagher) are baby Teletubbies appearing in the revival series.' A revival series? 'Their names are Mi-Mi, Daa Daa, Baa, Ping, RuRu, Nin, Duggle Dee and Umby Pumby.'"
Linda and Jared exchanged glances.
"Okay, fuck it, you were right," Linda said, straightening up and holding up her hands. "I got hoaxed by someone on the internet. There's no way any of that actually existed."
| 2016-07-01T07:11:59
| 2016-07-01T06:36:56
| 401
| 88
|
[WP] You actually DO get a dollar for every time you hear someone say that. You recently lost your job and are now struggling to make ends meet.
|
"I love you, daddy."
The two blue eyes shone up at me in the darkness, reflecting the streetlight that filtered in through the cracked window. It had been some time since they had reflected the light overhead, ever since the power company had cut service four weeks before when I'd struggled to make payments.
Struggle. That was the word for it, for what we were going through. For nature's constant attempt to drag us down, to blot away our very existence from this earth. To turn us back to dust. That spiral we had entered into ever since her mother left, ever since she'd announced the affair with the neighbor and decided to move in with him. Just where I could see her through the same broken window that now let in the cold night air, and made goosebumps form on her daughter's, *our* daughter's arms in a way that seemed permanent. That daughter she had left behind.
I still remembered the last time my wife had said "I love you", as she kissed me on the way to work, my lunch bag packed the night before by her. It seemed that those words were enough to stave off the growing bills- that they pushed me to strive for the next promotion, that maybe this time it would be enough. That they were the fuel that kept my internal furnace going, that I would do anything to hear them again. That I wouldn't have gotten fired two weeks after she left, once I couldn't hear that sentence anymore. That somehow, those three small words had provided just as much for our family as as I had, that they *supported* us while they lasted.
But without hearing them, I was crumbling. As was my daughter, her nose red from sniffling, her lips pursed from the times I had told her to keep quiet when the landlord pounded at the door for this month's late rent. My fists clenched as I looked towards my neighbor's house, as I thought of what we had become. How something so simple had created problems so complex.
"I love you, daddy." Came the words again from my arms, as the two blue eyes continued to stare upwards to meet mine, eyes that had belonged to her mother. I bit the inside of my cheek as she repeated it once more, tasting blood as I forced my own eyes not to water.
"I love you."
I raised my chin, standing to support her weight against my frame. And I felt those three words take on power once more.
***
By Leo
|
I open the heavy door.
I stare at this beautiful interior architecture.
I sink in the earthy colors of this building.
I notice the place is packed, this is perfect.
I walk with a little hop.
I stare a pretty girl, she looks back, I wink, she raises an eyebrow, cool.
I find the perfect spot.
I put my bag down, and remove my jacket.
I sit down and stretch my neck and shoulders.
I take out my laptop.
I take out two pencils from my bag.
I play the first song I see on iTunes, "I'm an Albatraoz - AronChupa".
I use my two pencils as drum sticks.
I close my eyes.
I smile...
And the signs of dollar bills fill my euphoric dark space as I hear the sound of roaring stressed college students shush me.
I look at my bag.
I have gained 8 dollars.
I was expecting better.
I leave.
I get myself a Big Mac.
I find the next library.
I am John, and this is my life.
| 2016-12-07T18:57:08
| 2016-12-07T18:43:34
| 38
| 20
|
[WP] Write a horror story. Challenge: Everyone came prepared.
|
“Right this way...er..., sirs?” The mining manager said while we travelled down the mine shaft.
It was a new mine, and it was dark. Opened just two years ago to harvest the precious metals modern society needs to survive. We weren’t there for an inspection though, well, we were, but not for anything mining related.
We’re what you would probably call “ghost busters,” except we’re on the government payroll. It looked like a routine job, workers had complained of seeing floating lights down in the mines. Okay, normally not our problem, probably some hallucination from natural gas or something, but then they say they found some sort of tomb down there, and now it’s our problem.
We reached the entrance to the tomb, “Alright, feel free to head back up, we’ll take things from here.” The squad leader said. The manager quickly made his way out quickly, but I’m not judging him. We were obviously decked out for something big. Big suits with air tanks, tactical knives, military grade communication systems, we looked like we were ready for a fight. The thing that gave it away was probably our spectral-ionization beams, big gun looking things that turn anything made out of ectoplasm into a gooey mess.
“Yep, that looks like a tomb,” squad leader announced. “Hopefully this will be just like the job back in Egypt, any ghosts down here should be so weak from lack of human contact that picking them off will be like shooting fish in a bucket.”
“I believe you mean barrel, sir,” the lieutenant spoke out, “and why the fuck do these cursed tombs always end up so far underground?” “Beats me,” squad leader replied, “but anyone who gets buried in an underground tomb ends up a bastard as a ghost.”
That’s the last of the conversation I payed attention to, we got the door open and made our way inside. The inside was definitely giving off “haunted tomb” vibes. The walls were made of old stone, and covered in markings. I examined some of them, they weren’t writing, they were more like images carved into the stone. The room was a box, and every inch of the walls were etched into.
One image that caught my eye was right in the middle of the floor. It showed what looked like a crude drawing of a man, but next to him was what looked like an attempt to draw the insides, organs and stuff. Above this was a large circle, and inside the circle was another man, but inside the head was another circle, maybe meant to represent the brain, but the image below it had a different shape for the brain.
“Hey, come look at this,” the lieutenant called me over. On a block of stone was what looked like the mummified remains of a man, but it was deflated, like the skin had been hollowed out. I looked to the eyes above the corpse, and there was an image more detailed than everything else in the room. Despite this, I couldn’t tell what it was supposed to be. The closest thing I could think of was spaghetti plopped onto the floor.
“So, do you think this is our haunter,” the lieutenant broke my concentration on the image. Before I could reply, a brilliant light shone into the room. In the center there was now some sort of orb hovering, pulsating with light. “That must be our specter!” The squad leader shouted. But something was wrong, our spectral meters wasn’t going off.
Too late. “Open fire!”
On the order, spectral-ionization beams shot towards the orb.
A blinding flash of light, and an ear piercing sound.
The squad leader collapsed. I was trying to fix my vision. In the blur, I saw a pile next to his body. I was struggling to make it out.
“Oh shit, oh shit, oh shi..!”the lieutenant was screaming. He was closest to the squad leader. My vision cleared. I made out the pile next to the squad leader. It looked like spaghetti. Then I focused on it more. It was a stringy mess, in the mess was a larger lump. I nearly puked when I recognized it.
It wasn’t spaghetti, that image on the wall. It was what the mess would look like if you somehow removed the entire human nervous system from the body and tossed it on the floor.
Whatever that orb was, it wasn’t a ghost, it wasn’t anything close to dead.
The lieutenant was still screaming, the orb was gone. I booked it for the door, as I turned around to slam it shut, I saw that the squad leader was moving. It was getting back up.
I slammed the door shut. I ran as fast as I could back up the mine. The lieutenant was screaming, louder now. He was still in that room. I didn’t have time to feel sorry, I dropped my gear on the floor to lighten the load. We weren’t prepared for this.
|
“Let’s begin.”
I close my eyes, and take a breath. Two minutes. In two minutes the knowledge I have gathered, the research I have done, it will al come to fruition. My Drugpa wisdom, which I have harnessed over the last twenty years. I have strengthened my mind, preparing it for this day. I take deep breaths, my mind is racing as is my heart. I can hardly stand the anticipation.
The ultimate Nirvana is what I crave. For years I attempted to travel there, yet I was weak, human, full of vice. I had to train my mind for many years, memorizing the Sutras and partaking in the slow and painstaking absorption of Datura. I have learned to ascend, to rise to new heights, yet even those levels are paltry to what I am to experience in one minute and twenty seconds. The time is ticking down, and the blood rushes in my ears. I am tingly all over, and I know it is possible. Through a small window watch both my aged masters, and my young disciples. I am a harbinger of a new dawn, and new age.
Twenty seconds. Oh the release. The sweet joy of ascension, the wisdom I am to experience. A new plane of existence, and new reality. In ten seconds a mixture of Ayahuasca, Datura, Psilocybin, and various other hallucinogens will be pumped into my veins. It will carry me to a new place, and level of consciousness no one but the Sokushinbutsu have achieved. One second.
This is my ascension.
This is a new existence.
| 2018-07-15T09:58:40
| 2018-07-15T05:17:35
| 29
| 20
|
[WP] A group of friends meet up with each other every hundred years. One is immortal, one is reincarnated into a new body every time they die, one is a time traveler, one is a robot, and one is Death.
If you can think of any other types of people, please add them. That's all I could think of.
And you don't have to include every character I listed, it's just a guideline. For example, if you wanted to do a story set in the past you don't need to include the robot in there
|
How a time traveler could be late was a mystery to me. I supposed that Edward did it out of habit, as he was never one to keep appointments. I should know; he'd skipped out on plenty with me. Regardless, he was late.
Derora was the first to arrive. As a vampire, she had turned up before dawn and had sequestered herself in the well shaded booth at the far end of the bar. Brad, or Bearn as he'd been called in his very first incarnation, was next. A mountain of a man, he thundered into the room and caught Derora in a bone-shattering hug. Marie hurried in shortly after, complaining of a burned out fuse and deftly sidestepping Brad's traditional greeting.
"Mind the gears, dear," she said. "I'm freshly calibrated."
They were all laughing and drinking by the time Edward stumbled in, coughing and smoking a bit from the slight burns on his long coat.
"Sorry I'm late," said the time traveler. "Darn machine blew up again. Nearly got me this time."
He winked at me and took the wine I'd placed on the counter for him. He took a heavy swig.
"Death by poisoned dart," I said. "Avoided by a rather interesting use of temporal-gravitational manipulation. The probability engine must have overheated."
"Edward, I thought you promised not to go to those primitive times again," Derora said, shaking her head. "Your curiosity will be your undoing."
"I remember when I was a cabin boy during the Age of Discovery," said Brad, his eyes glazing with nostalgia. "Fun times if you forget about the smell and the scurvy. Man, I can't wait until humans get around to exploring space."
"By my calculations, your probability of death is nearing ninety percent," Marie added, her synthetic voice warbling with concern. "You really should take more care, dear."
"But there's so much to see, to do, to experience!" said Edward, downing the wine in one more gulp. "Anyway, it's good to see you, but I must be off."
"But you just got here," Derora objected, though it was a token protest. Edward never stayed long.
"I've just got the one life, my dear," he said, taking her hand and kissing it. "I don't have the same time as the rest of you, so I have to make the most of what I've been given."
"Goodbye, and good luck," the others chorused. Edward paused as he passed my bar.
"Any advice?" he asked.
"Don't trust the one-eyed guide," I said after a moment of consideration. "If you do, I'll pay you a visit."
Edward laughed and rushed out of the room with the same parting words as always.
"Not on your life, Death!"
*****
r/Kathiana
|
There were always infinite changes whenever Andrew jumped. A hundred years was a short period of time, in the grand scheme of things; the Earth had come into its present form over millions of hundred-year intervals. But the grumbling lethargy with which the Earth moved was nothing compared to humanity's speed of development.
Some fifty or so jumps ago, humans had been living in huts. Now, the world was covered in buildings, a surface roiling with humanity and their constructs. Last jump, the buildings had been one style; now, they were completely different, and their aesthetic struck Andrew as much more rigid. Perhaps it was indicative of the way humanity's social mindset had changed in between jumps - or perhaps this was just their 'modern' design, something new for the sake of not being old.
This building, however, was different. Sitting miles away from the nearest city, its design was old - *old*. That was not to say that it was falling apart; by all appearances, it had been kept not only intact but in near-perfect condition.
Lysander's house. As far as Andrew could tell, it had not changed whatsoever in the hundreds of years since his last visit.
He knocked on the door. Though it appeared to be wood, it produced an unexpected sound.
*Metal.*
Lysander had gone modern at last, though with the way humanity evolved, he was probably already out of date.
"Come in!"
Andrew pushed open the door, marvelling at how easily it swung forwards. The foyer was unlit, so he left it open behind him. He was never last, after all.
His shoes were discarded at the foot of the stairs, and he started up the stairs. For all the times he had visited the building, he had never actually spent more than a few minutes on the first floor. Sometimes he wondered what took up all the space, but he never asked. With what he knew of Lysander, he didn't think it was a good idea.
"Hello, Andrew. Can you come over here, please?"
Lysander's voice was just as smooth as it had been the last time he visited. It sent shivers down Andrew's spine, even as he knew there was nothing to fear.
"Can do, dude," he said, sidling around a doorway and into the main room.
A woman, best described as *sharp*, was lying on the floor. Her death-black hair, straighter than should have been possible, splayed out around a strict face. The only part of her appearance that was not perfect, immaculate as if caught in time, were her eyes - drowning under twin pools of tears.
Andrew stopped walking. He was last, after all.
"Hey Andrew." A child, no more than thirteen or fourteen years of age, was reclining in a leather chair. Andrew winced at the cigarette poking out of his mouth. "We've got a bit of a problem."
"Yeah, I noticed. Are you alright, Libitina?"
Lysander, kneeling over Libitina, shot Andrew a glare. "Does she appear to be 'all right', Andrew?"
"Well, no. It just seemed like something I should ask. Seriously, though, what the hell is going on?"
"Oh, Hell has nothing to do with it," said the boy. "It's a pleasure to meet you, by the way. I'm Jonathan."
"Pleasure to meet you as well, Jo-"
"I was lying about the pleasure thing. It's kind of disgusting to me, seeing you standing there, not a care in the world. When's the last time you suffered through an entire lifetime of taxes, eh?"
"Never had the displeasure of doing so, actually, unlike you common plebs. Anyways, please - what's happening?"
Libitina groaned, pulling herself into a seated position with Lysander's help. "I-isn't it obvious, 'Drew? I-I'm dying."
^^^more ^^^on ^^^r/forricide
^((might work on a part two)^)
| 2017-04-22T22:42:30
| 2017-04-22T22:07:02
| 173
| 17
|
[WP] the Dark Lord had killed almost everyone, even the Hero. The final party member stood in the chamber alone. “I have killed everyone, you cannot capture me alone. Why are you still here?”. The final party member laughed maniacally with a devilish grin! “There's No One Here To Stop Me Now!!”
|
"I have killed everyone, you cannot capture me alone. Why are you still here?" the Dark Lord asked.
I can't see him, but he towers several feet above me as I feel the spirits leave the bodies of the fallen heroes. A familiarity begins coursing through my body. The heat rising within, ignoring my cold, tattered robes. Tiny sparks crackling in my veins, bringing back a feeling lost ages ago. I struggle to hold back a barely visible grin from under my dark hood.
"Mortal," the Dark Lord continues. "You smile knowing your death is inevitable. I commend your bravery and will make your death quick."
The rush from a fragment of power coursing through me forces a gravelly, maniacal laugh from the depths of my lungs. The Dark Lord's face twists in annoyance. "Your disrespect will not be tolerated!" he bellows before lunging at me.
My long slumbering eyes open to the Dark Lord's face just a few inches away from mine, blood smeared across his face and teeth, the tips of his talons sharp just above my collar bone. He's frozen in time. The Dark Lord's face contorts in fear as he witnesses my strength.
The earth leaves from beneath my feet as a whirlwind circles around me. Finally, enough power for me to grasp and make use of. Millenia of slumber slowly getting being pushed away by the familiar warmth of magic and power. "Do you see now?" I manage to muster from my long underused vocal cords as I lower my hood.
The Dark Lord is released from the grasps of time and falls to the ground. He scrambles as he feels my power awakening and gives a slight look of fear and admiration before adjusting himself and standing tall. "I do," the Dark Lord exclaims after a few seconds of glaring. He looks around at the slain mages and warriors, the remnants of a chapter dedicated to my captivity and downfall. The Dark Lord drops to one knee and bows. "The final preparations have been made, Master. There is nothing to stand in your way."
|
“There’s no one here to stop me now!”
He grinned at me, again that oh so infuriating grin
Light started to gather in his hands, heat emits out of them, and then a blinding light engulfs me as he raised his hands, it felt warm, then hot then before I can scream of the heat,nothing... except his voice, calm, cold as darkness that engulfed me.
“Goodbye “
....
I awoke as Alexandrine approach, she sighs and threw a water bottle at me.
“You were dreaming again, I know how excited you are, getting to kill the darklord that destroyed our city, but please just hang back and let us, the chosen warriors fight, then just cast that thingy and have her sealed.”
I nodded, sweat running down my face as I recall the full dream, I was the darklord, I killed millions to get power, to rule, but after a blinding light, I found myself in a city, having a full life, and then being dragged in an adventure to kill the darklord...to kill me? Or..
“Hey were near the gates, chin up I know your afraid too” Michael a paladin approached me and Alexandrine.
“Today we finish the dark lord’s reign” Alexandrine and Michael nodded, determined they stride towards the castle gate.
“For revenge” I whispered
And followed suit.
....
“Let the cycle continue” I heard a voice, as I hid in a fallen column. There I saw Michael’s head roll right out of his neck, surprise filled his lifeless eyes as his body falls to the bloody floor.
All of my friends are dead Nile, a warrior nun the first to die as she ran towards the darklord, followed by Gimply, the half dwarf half elf warrior who tried to support Nile. They’re blood stains the castle floor.
Then Alexandrine, my love died as she protected me. And Michael who screamed at me to run.
As they’re lifeless body lies in front of me, time stopped.
“Sacrifice is ready, only the blood of the darklord remains”
A voice whispers to me, I looked around, and saw nothing.
“Let the cycle continue” the voice is getting louder
“Accept”
I looked at Alexandrine, her body lies in front of me
“Let the cycle continue “
....
“ I have killed everyone, you cannot capture me alone. Why are still here?”
The final party member grinned
“Let the cycle continue” a voice whispers in the ears of the darklord. Fear appears in his eyes
“There’s no one here to stop me now!”
...
| 2020-07-11T04:45:03
| 2020-07-11T03:52:06
| 23
| 17
|
[WP] A lone Spanish soldier lost in the deep jungles of South America stumbles upon the fountain of youth, but it's very different than anyone ever imagined.
|
I can't believe my luck, such a beautiful fountain. Here where I'd least expect it. I step in. Just to cool off from the heat. To clean up. I feel so wonderful! It's indescribable! My years have fallen aside and I'm young again. Really? Could this actually be happening? Wow! It's incredible! Amazing! I may just be able to hike back to civilization. To my friends. Family. As I step out, I feel older again. Maybe a little older than I was before. Perhaps a longer bath is required. Young again, I bathe! ... Out and older still. Back and young! Out, and older yet again.
I'm in the fountain.
I can't leave the fountain.
I'm very, very hungry.
Damn.
|
"I can't believe it."
The lone soldier walked towards the ancient monument, not quite able to comprehend the site before hiss eyes.
In front of him was a large, empty, square but with a small fountain in the middle. With a ring of purple fire surrounding it.
Gabriel knew instantly what he was looking at, even if he didn't know how he knew what it was. Sitting in front of him was the fountain of youth.
"I though it would be bigger" he mused, as he approached the fountain.
Gabriel stopped when he got ten feet away from the flames. The fire went all the way around the fountain, but it was only a foot thick. With a running start Gabriel hurled himself over the fire landing with a roll and pooping back up off the ground as he dusted himself off. Looking up he saw that there wasn't anything else between him and the fountain.
"That was easier than I thought it would be."
Cautiously, Gabriel walked towards the fountain, expecting at any moment for something to jump out and attack him. When he finally made it to the fountain he marveled at the elegance of this ancient structure. The water was crystal clear and to deep to see the bottom, the top of the fountain went up only four feet and wasn't very complicated. But in its simplicity lay its elegance. It had two layers with two floating cherubs pouring water out of the pots they were holding into the fountain. Just as he was going to scoop a mouthful of water into his mouth he heard a voice behind him rasp
"I wouldn't do that if I were you"
Gabriel was so startled he almost fell into the fountain. He whirled around to see an old man behind him, leaning heavily on his cane. The man said briskly
"Follow me, its the youth you want, right?"
"Yeah, why couldn't I drink that, that's the fountain of youth."
"No, that's poison. We use that to trick the people who try and get eternal life who don't deserve it" the man said as he walked through the fire like it wasn't even there.
Gabriel stopped when he saw that. "What about the fire?"
"I just use that to scare off the dumb and cowardly, the dumb wouldn't realize the fire is so thin and the cowardly wouldn't take the risk now follow me, quietly, I might add."
Without another word Gabriel followed the man to the end of the plaza and into the forest. After only a few minutes of walking the man stopped in front of a small stream.
"Here it is. The fountain of youth" As he said this he splayed his arms out for emphasis.
"Really, just this stream"
"Yeah, we used to have it at the fountain you were at, but to many people were getting immortality so we poisoned the old one and moved the water here"
"Why did you decide to save me then?" Gabriel asked confused.
"You seemed like a nice guy and I didn't want to see another person die this year goodbye." With that the old man left him.
"I guess this is it" Gabriel though to himself as he bent over the stream to drink some. He formed a cup with his hands and filed them with this mystical water. Taking one last breath as a mortal, he tilted his head back and drank.
| 2014-09-06T21:02:45
| 2014-09-06T20:19:25
| 58
| 35
|
[WP][Semi-Historical] In 1787, Ben Franklin snuck a joke into the U.S. Constitution/Bill of Rights that was never caught and never removed. Centuries later, it inadvertently plays a major part in a Supreme Court decision.
For any alt-history/parallel dimension fans around here. Inspired by [this TIL](http://www.reddit.com/r/todayilearned/comments/1uhd7v/til_that_benjamin_franklin_wasnt_trusted_to_write/).
|
"Chief Justice, you can't be serious!"
"Our decision has been based in nothing but close and careful interpretation of the United States Constitution. I assure you, we do not act in folly."
"This is an outrage! Millions of Americans cannot change who they are simply because of a court decision! This violates everything the founding fathers stood for when they wrote the Constitution!"
"Counselor, please calm down or we will hold you in direct contempt of this highest court in the land!"
"This is bullshit! How could you possibly come to this decision you panel of geriatric fucks?!"
The counselor was dragged out of the United States Supreme Court Building, his hands cuffed behind his back.
"Ladies and gentlemen of these great United States of America, please do not mourn for your families and friends in the future. They are a lesser people and as such are not afforded the basic protections our forefathers penned for us over two centuries ago. On this sixth day of January in the year 2014, this United States Supreme Court only finds it appropriate to apologize for the gross oversight of the Constitutional text as it stands. We can say with confidence that our left-handed brethren will be handled as swiftly and forcefully as necessary to completely comply with the Bill *For* Rights that we now entirely understand."
|
I'm in class, I'm no writer, and I can't think of a good plot, BUT I have the perfect premise: California obscenity law is put to the test in the mid 90s and the defending lawyer quotes a penis joke by Ben Franklin.
Someone please runaway with this.
| 2014-01-06T18:22:09
| 2014-01-06T18:06:54
| 56
| 23
|
[WP] Everyone's always happy in your uncle's presence. As his favorite naphew, he invited you to go stargazing one night. "Well, it's been fun, but now it's time for me to go back. See you around kiddo." You thought he was joking, but you never saw him again. No one else seemed to remember him too.
|
"And that is Sagittarius," my uncle said while pointing up at the desert sky. "The center of this galaxy lies that way, with a giant black hole in the middle. Let your eyes adjust and you'll see the Milky Way."
I'd never been out to the desert before. Never really been anywhere far enough from the city lights to really appreciate the sky. But here, twenty miles from any other humans, there was a certain peace. I didn't notice the occasional howl or hoot from the dark, not with my uncle's soft voice explaining the sky in my ear.
I pointed at the brightest spot I could find. "Do you think we'll ever go there, uncle?"
He chuckled softly. "That's Venus. You've already sent a probe there. At least the Russians have. It's not as nice as Earth. Too hot."
"Oh, what about there?" I said, pointing randomly to another bright spot. "What's that one called?"
He stood silently for a full minute before answering. "Astronomers call that one Schedar or Alpha Cassiopeiae. When I was a kid we always called it... something different. It's funny that you picked that star out of all the thousands your eyes can see."
"Are you alright, uncle?" I said as he got up off the blanket. I think I saw a tear on his cheek.
"Yeah, kiddo. You just reminded me of something, is all. Something I meant to do a long time ago, but have been putting off." He went over to the van, an old volkswagen minibus, and opened the door, splashing light out over the desert and spoiling my night vision. I heard a loud clunk as he messed with something under the dash.
"Come back to the stars, Uncle."
"I hear you, Julia. I heard you before. I'm coming." I heard a low whir begin to come from the van. The other sounds of the desert faded as it filled my ears.
I stood up now. The light from the van was getting brighter. "What are you doing, Uncle?"
He turned to me, backlit by the radiance coming from the vehicle. It almost seemed like some of the light was passing through his body. "It's been fun, but it's time for me to go back home. There is something important there left undone. Thank you for reminding me."
The volume of the whir had increased to the point that I had to strain to hear him. I stood confused while he turned back to the van and shouted "I'll see you around, kiddo."
When he slammed the door on the van, the noise stopped and everything was black except for the large purple afterimage that swam around in my vision. As my eyes slowly adjusted to the renewed darkness I realized that the van was gone. I turned on my phone flashlight and crouched where it had been, but I couldn't even find any tracks.
A howl sounded in the night as I stood up. The only thing left was the blanket and the stars above me. My phone didn't have a signal and I was twenty miles from any other human. "Son of a bitch."
\[More at r/c_avery_m\]
|
Life just went as usual after that, you went to school, played with friends did your homework. It was wired, someone who seemed like such a big part of your life just vanished but nothing seemed to change.
You yourself almost forgot about him untill a year later you need to get a tent for the boy scouts trip. You ask mom where is it and she answers in the attic. as you get there you find an old album with a thick layer of dust on it, you open it and find old photos of your parents at trips that happened before you were born. As you scroll through the pages you suddenly find it, a photo of your parents with your uncle in London.
You grab the picture and the tent and head to your mom. She sees you and ask "Did you find it" you nod your hand but before you get to show her the picture she says "great, put it besides the door and go outside to help your dad with the garden" you do as mom says and help dad with the garden, after a long day of work you take of your clothes and have a shower. After the shower you get straight into you PJs and got to your room to play some Minecraft online with your friends.
the next day, as you get ready for your trip you suddenly remember the picture, you ask mom at the table "mom, have you been to London with dad?" mom looks at you funny "yes we did about two years before you were born, how did you know?" you answer eagerly "I saw a photo in the album at the attic of you with dad and uncle" your mom keeps looking at you "what uncle? it was just your dad and I" you know you have the photo "I have the photo, I will show you" you run to the laundry room to fetch your pants in which you forgot the picture but the pockets are empty, you search on the floor and in the room but nothing. you hear mom calls "honey, get ready we need to go in twenty minutes"
You get on the bus and have a blast with your friends in the trip, the day before the trip ends, at the evening you go to the woods to pee before heading to bed and as you turn around you see uncle waving a flashlight. "Uncle!' you shout as you run to give him a hug, your uncle hugs you back. "What's up kiddo?" you ask him "uncle where have you been?" he answers "it doesn't matter, I am here now, do you want to grab some ice cream?" you nod your head and you leave the camp through the woods to get ice cream, he tells you how he came back from a great land where everyone wore orange and he says they feed him and gave him shelter and he made lots of friends but he left it all just so he could see you, you had fun eating ice cream, he took you after that to see a movie and he took you after that to McDonald's, you had so much fun until at one point you fell asleep.
you woke up by mom picking you up, hugging you and crying "are you alright? did he hurt you? did he do something to you?" you are very fuzzy and tired, you don't know what's going on "mom, I am okay, I had fun with uncle" mom doesn't answer she just hold you and doesn't let go. after a couple minutes your dad comes, he takes you from moms hands "we need to take him to the hospital" you fall asleep again in the car and wake up at the hospital, a nurse comes to you "You woke up! how are we feeling?" you answer "hungry, where is mom and dad?" the nurse says "they are at the police station, they should be back soon" you ask "and where is uncle?" the nurse makes an uneasy expression "your uncle was found in someone's house" you ask "what did he do in someone's house?" the nurse is trying to find the right words "he tried to hurt the people inside the house so the police came and, well, he died" you started crying, you don't know what to do, you just got uncle back but now he is gone, for ever. He was the best uncle ever, he got you cool things, he played games with you, he gave you candy when dad wasn't looking. he was the best, but now he is gone.
At the six o'clock news you hear "The escaped prisoner has returned his nephew to his parents before breaking into the house of the smiths family and trying to rob them, Mr. smith saw the prisoner and shout him three times in order to protect his family, 'not only I protected my family, I protected the community as well' said Mr.Smith 'I don't know how people like him doesn't get the chair after murdering three people' The child is safe and seems to be well, up Next..."
After that life went as normal, after the excitement died down you went back to school, played with the same friends, did your homework, everything was normal but from that day, you never asked what happened to uncle
| 2021-11-22T10:07:05
| 2021-11-22T07:48:47
| 120
| 34
|
[WP] You live in a world where human beings can bend chemical elements. Your probability of being a particular kind of bender is proportional to an element's abundance in nature. The world is full of hydrogen and helium benders. The year is 1945, and you are the first uranium bender.
|
(I'm not good at this so any feedback would be appreciated)
The History of Elementals.
They used to call them witches and wizards. People who could bend matter to their will. The stories where fanciful. Midas who could turn anything to gold. Lords who hired people to turn lead to gold. People who could turn iron armour and swords against their holders. They where all dismissed. Nobody believed these stories. Would you?
The beginning of the modern era of elementals is disputed. Some stories have a secret protestant society of elementals started by Charlemagne the first Holy Roman Emperor. Others include Queen Victoria and the death of her children and even a cult within the founding fathers. The truth is lost to history. All that is known is Napoleon brought with him a man who was a member of the Illuminati. A man who was more powerful than any army that Louis the eighteenth could send against him.
Who knows. If not for that stray musket shot at the field of Waterloo what would have happened. But no one could deny what they had seen. Later historians would say it was an impurity in that lead shot but the only bullet Pierre de la Plomb did not return to the English was the one that killed him. And even though Napoleon used all of his immense tactical knowledge to stop them the combined armies of Prussia and Brittania crushed the French army.
After Waterloo the nation's of the earth invested huge resources into figuring out how Pierre had managed to bend matter to his will. Just 7 years later it would be discovered. Jean-François Champollion discovered the secrets of the Rosetta stone and with it ancient Egyptian, a language thought lost to time was discovered and the findings published. In America a man by the named Fergus Brown using Champollions work decrypted a book in ancient Egyptian and changed the world forever. The book described how ancient Egyptian "Sorcerers" would create elements out of thin air. Brown tried it himself and found he could create hydrogen. He did it more and more until his house blew up. But his work miraculously survived. And laid the basis of modern elementals.
The Discovery.
Different countries did different things. The United States of America did it on your 11th birthday. The process as described to use was an American child is brought in front of a committee and are told to create energy as described by their elemental teacher. This then means the state has information on what type of elemental they are.
The Republic of Texas has the family of the child submit what type of elemental the child is. This happens before the child is 18 or the family is fined.
The Communist Committee of Sino and Soviet Republics has ruled even stricter than the American system however I was never told what the rules where as a child and knowing what happens to children there, I'm glad I didn't then.
In the empire things are on the better side of things in my opinion. When we start Element School at around 16 years old we are all brought to the capital and have a blood test. We are then sorted into collages. Iron collage is the biggest, obviously and it goes all the way to fluorine. After that you get sorted into the rare elementals collage. Sometimes get the occasional arsenic or plutonium but there was never an Elemental with an element rarer than that.
I am a second child. My father was a part of the rare earth elementals, specifically he was one of 10 known tungsten Elementals. My mother was a part of carbon college. My older brother is a part of hydrogen collage, the eighth biggest college in the empire. This year is my turn.
I entered the temporary hospital created for the selection and was directed to a room where a blood sample was taken by nurse. 10 minutes another nurse entered.
"We need another blood sample" he said.
"I never needed another blood sample and I was in the the rare earth elementals why do you need another one." asked my father.
"Honey you are so dense. They obviously didn't get a conclusive result with the first test calm down" replied my mother.
"Fine but I'm not happy about it" retorted my father.
20 minutes later an army colonel came into the room and asked me to follow him. He then pointed me into a room with a mirror and a man in army attire but with a rank I had no knowledge of.
"Son I'm a first chaplain of the home elemental watch" he said to me.
"The home elemental watch?" I questioned and then followed it up with "Chaplain?"
"Yes we keep a track of abnormal elementals such as your father and yourself. The ranking system comes from before the era of elementals when they where assumed to be witches and the church controlled our order." He said.
"So my father talked to one of you?" I asked.
"No he didn't but he was not as unique as you are" he replied again. "And no more questions please just listen. You are a uranium bender. As a nuclear power the empire would like to keep you a secret and use you as a defensive asset"
"Asset? I'm not an asset?" I interrupted.
"Oh but yes you are" he replied.
|
“What’s your name Mister?”
I sigh and look up at the kid sat shackled across the table from me. Always the same first question. Why can’t they ask a different question?
“I can’t tell you that I’m afraid” I reply hoarsely, my throat dry.
How long had we been in here before he had finally spoken? In a dark room like this, even a few hours in the dry southern heat was enough to feel like days
“Ah come on now, why not?”
“They won’t allow it”
I see him look at me, disbelief and annoyance on his face.
“It’s just a name grandpa, ain’t nobody here to stop you from telling me that?”
Grandpa? I suppose I am getting on a bit, but I could still remember being this kids age.
I gesture around at the room. “Names have tremendous power in this world kid. Don’t forget that...”
“Power?” He didn’t look annoyed any longer. More like he was wondering why he’d been locked in a room with a washed-up old kook like me. “What do you mean power?”
“Well, for instance” I replied, slowly drawing myself up, pulling at the holders around my wrists “What’s your name?”
“It’s Lopez. Antonio Lopez”
“Well you see, Mister Lopez. Just from knowing your name I can make certain assumptions about you.” I say, as my eyes lock into his across the ten feet of steel that sits between us. “For instance, that you are of Latin descent”
“You’re full of shit. Just lookin’ at me can you tell you that. Don’t take no fancy name man to figure ou-“
“And when I couple that with the tattoos on you neck, hands and...” I stop talking to take a closer look “...face, I can make some more accurate assumptions about you.”
Lopez stopped trying to talk over me, The smile beginning to fade from his face. “Lots of folk got tattoos, that don’t me-“
I interrupt him, knowing it will just make him more annoyed. Good, I want him annoyed.
“Using those tattoos I can, for example. assume that you’re part of a gang. Judging by the fact that you’ve ended up locked in here with me, it’s probably a pretty shit gang.”
Lopez’s smile fades further into a full on scowl. “Now wait a min-. You’re lucky I’m locked up you son of a bi-“
“Shut your mouth while i’m doing my talkin’” I say loudly, drowning out his bellowing. I wait for him to quiet down and then, plastering my face with a look of pure victory I say
“Now, the only shit gang that I know of that roam in these parts of Texas that would let a Latino join them...” I make sure the to stress the word Latino, just to push him a bit more “...would be them crazy-ass Aurites who go around acting like their leader is some kinda...
“HA!” Lopez interrupts triumphantly. “You’re wrong! I ain’t one of them punk ass Aurites! I’m an Argonian! Shit, we wiped them Aurites out a few months ago at a bar in Odess-“
Lopez stops talking suddenly, as if his mouth was caught in a trap.
In the wall over his shoulder a square of light flickers into view and a face appears, the outline blurred by the thick plate of glass that separates it from our square metal cell.
A klaxon blares. A voice emanates from a dark corner of the cell.
“Thank you Uros. We have that recorded. The cameras are now off. You may proceed to Phase Two at your leisure.
The klaxon sounds again and the face disappears from behind Lopez’s head. Phase Two - I think laugh to myself. Why do always they gotta be so damn formal about this sort of thing. Killing is killing, putting a bow on it doesn’t make any difference.
“U-u-u-ros?!” Lopez stammers, the look of triumph wipes from his face and replaced by one of horror. “I heard about you, down in the cells. You’re the one who ca-“
“Who can bend that new element ....yes” I reply coldly, pulling my wrists out of the holders that lie redundantly across them and standing up slowly.
“Bu-but, you can’t have none here? Not here? It’s mighty rare ain’t it? They only just made it a few months back.”
“Unfortunately so.” I confirm, walking slowly around the table towards him. I try not to feel too sorry for him, the warden showed me what he and his friends had done to the Aurites in Odessa after all. Despicable, the acts that man can do to man in search of their own element. Still, at least now we had the proof it was them.
“Imagine, spending years and years not having an elemental ability and then, when yours is finally synthesised, it’s so dangerous and harmful that you can’t even go near it.” I spit out through gritted teeth. “Imagine, Lopez, what that kind of feeling, that kind of emptiness does to a man.”
Lopez stares back at me, his eyes unblinking and head rigid against his high-backed chair.
“Now I’m luckier than some of my predecessors. I’m alive at a time when our element exists. Before now, those who can bend our element would be consigned to the outside of society. Possibly even cast out as ‘useless’”
“But I was lucky. My father was a top Mecurian and managed to get me a place in a military academy. He had to work hard to convince them to take me and I had to work even harder to climb the ranks there, but even without any ability I was able to become top of my class. Through sheer determination and skill I managed to last through the Carbon Wars and make my name as an extractor of information.”
I take another step towards Lopez, stretching up to my full height and towering over him.
“And do you know what I found when I was so honourably discharged from the Army? I found that while I had been giving my life in service to this country, that scum like you had been running wild. Destroying the lands that my father and others had worked so hard to build upon. Killing others simply for the sake of killing”
Another step forward, I could see him shaking now.
“So when my ability awoke a few months back, I called in a few favours from friends I had at the Elemental Bureau. A sort of reward, you could call it, for so many years of service. It was an odd request, but thanks to my record and as I don’t have much time left to actually work with the element itself, it was granted.”
I take a final step towards my terrified prey. I crouch down next to the terrified man, so close I can smell the dust and dirt on his skin. The ‘Ar’ symbol tattooed on his forehead and neck slick with sweat.
“Tell me, do you know what they named that element?”
He nods slowly.
“I-it was named after t-that dumb p-planet, wasn’t it? After Uranus?”
I smile nastily at him, letting him get a good whiff of my stale breath before standing up.
“You’re goddamn right it was boy”
As I reach my full height, I take a deep inhaling breath. My left hand shoots out towards him, stopping inches from his stomach and then violently twists counter-clockwise.
A shriek of agony fills the air. Lopez’s shackled hands struggle to grab at the source of the pain, but they can’t reach. Even if they could, there’s not much they could do now.
I walk past him as he convulses and shudders, stepping slowly and carefully towards the door, making sure I avoid the blood which pours out of him, down his trouser legs and pools under the bottom of his chair.
When I reach the door I turn around. He’s no longer screaming now, he might be dead, passed out from the pain burning inside of him. Or maybe just sat in shock.
“What did I tell you boy?” I call out from the doorway, just incase he’s still conscious. “Names have tremendous power in this world.”
And then I turn and forever slam the door shut on Antonio Lopez.
| 2020-05-24T15:53:36
| 2020-05-24T15:48:18
| 23
| 16
|
[WP] Drunkenly, you accidentally pour vodka into your pet's water bowl. As a result, your pet breaks the number one rule: do not speak to your owner... Ever.
Did NOT expect this amount of replies. Thanks guys! It'll be an interesting read.
|
"*Fuuuuuck*, dude! We got some *kick* in the old H-to-the-2-to-the-O this morning! Mmm!"
Snuggles, my ten-year-old beagle, was stumbling around the kitchen, occasionally banging his snout into a cabinet. I rubbed my eyes and peered around the corner. Despite being house trained for nearly a decade, he was relieving himself on my tomato plant, murmuring to himself all the while.
"That's all it is, man. Just mix a little fresh chicken into the bowl every now and then. None of this balanced diet, freeze-dried, pansy-ass bullshit!"
He shook his leg and turned around to glare at me. "You hear that, Jeff? Let's switch up the menu!" With a gasp, he clamped his jaw shut and proceeded to flop on the ground, rolling around like a decidedly non-intoxicated puppy.
"I heard you, Snuggles," I groaned. "I hear what you're saying, and I..." I let out a shoddily concealed belch. "...I acknowledge your concerns."
"Wait...really?"
"Yeah. I know it's not always easy, but I'm doing my best, you know? I just...I just love you, man. You're all I have."
Snuggles sighed. "You know what, Jeff? I don't really know what's going on right now. I feel like I want to sleep forever, but I also want to hump the shit out of that squeaky toy over there. But I feel the love in this room right now. I love you, Jeff. Jeff da best."
He wandered over to me and curled up underneath my armpit, and we both passed out.
The next morning, I woke up to the sight of Snuggles dragging orange juice out of the refrigerator with his teeth. He grinned at me, then gestured with his head towards the fridge door, which now featured a note made from alphabet magnets. I'd bought far too many of them on Amazon during another solitary binge-drink fest. I read it as well as I could given the massive hangover.
*Jeff, we both fucked up.*
I raised my eyebrow. Snuggles groaned and rearranged the magnets with his paws.
*Have to leave. Broke rule.*
I shook my head and patted him. He narrowed his eyes.
*Must leave unless you promise*
He rearranged the magnets again.
*Not to tell.*
I grinned, then clutched my forehead. "I'm gonna say yes, but ask me again in, like, six hours."
He smirked.
*No one would believe you anyway, you drunk bastard.*
He poured me a glass of orange juice, gripping the handle with his teeth and spilling it everywhere. I laughed my ass off and hugged him tighter than I ever had.
***
/r/GigaWrites
|
"Cunt."
What?
"You heard me you fucking cunt. Where are my tasty Temptations?"
I couldn't believe it. Was it an acid flashback? Was I dreaming? Did I finally reach my drinking threshold? Boo couldn't have been talking to me. Nope. I ignored him and poured my delicious bowl of mult-grain Cheerios. Fridge. Milk. Spoon. Commence eating.
"Cunnnnnnnnnnnttt faceeeeeeee. Cunnnnnnttttt face. You gonna let a nigga starve while you eat that shitty fucking cereal? Where are my tasty Temptations you silly little faggot?"
Ok. This is real I thought. Boo could talk and he was the most foul mouthed individual I have ever met. I looked at the fat orange tabby and said, "Hey...Garfield....maybe you could, ya know, stand to lose a few pounds." He stared at me with a blank expression for a few seconds.
"Your mother is a whore and I'll rape you while you fucking sleep if you don't put some shit in my dish."
I had about enough. I threw my bowl of Cheerios against the wall. "BOO IF YOU DON'T SHUT THE FUCK UP I'M GONNA....." BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP
Man my alarm clock was annoying and man that was a terrible dream. Boo was curled up between my legs looking peaceful as ever. I slowly patted his soft head while he purred like a well oiled machine. Damn was I hungry though. I got up and started walking down the hall and Boo feverishly followed. Mult-grain Cheerios. Fridge. Milk. Spoon.
"Cunt."
| 2016-08-02T16:31:44
| 2016-08-02T16:15:33
| 897
| 501
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[WP] You are a respected supervillain that is more of a managerial type. You take good care of your minions and have an open door policy. One day a battered minion comes in your office. The heroes tortured your minion for information. You rarely go out into the field, but when you do heroes tremble.
|
“Boss!”
My head snapped up from the paperwork on my desk. Firestorm didn't just barge into my office without a damn important reason.
“What is it?”
“It's-Somethings happened. Vial is at Mercy General.”
I was out of my chair before she had finished her final syllable, striding to her.
“What happened?”
“She was attacked. I don't know the details. Cata is already there. She told me to tell you.”
I narrowed my eyes. Cataclysm not informing me herself was very off-base for her. It had to be bad then. I grabbed my black jacket from it's place by the door, pulling it over my immaculate black and silver tailored shirt. Like a whispered wind, my power wrapped around me taking me right to Mercy General. Right to Cataclysm's side. In front of us, through an ICU window lay Vial. She was hooked up to several monitors, but all thoughts went out of my head at the sight of her body. Gashes. Bruises. Multiple bones broken in *very* specific ways. Barely a young adult, and even my powers couldn't tell if she would live.
“Two good-Samaritans found her.”
Cataclysm's voice brought me back.
“A couple. They were walking down Thorn Avenue near Thirty-Third. Happened to hear her make a noise. Called 911. Doc's said if they hadn't she'd be dead right now. As is there not sure she'll even wake up.”
Her voice was flat. Emotionless. Cataclysm is one of the most boisterous of my people. For her to sound as she does...
“What. Happened.”
My voice was barely a whisper. She handed my a data-pad. I began looking through it as she spoke.
“She was jumped downtown. Three of the Assemblies newer members. Slick, Jumpstart, and Razor. Dragged her into the alley. Beat the shit out of her. Fucking tortured her. Probably to find out shit on us.”
She swallowed.
“Our guys found her clothes. Shredded.”
My eyes went to her
“Was she-”
Her eyes cut to mine, and the sheer amount of rage I viewed in them, being held back by what little self-control she had, was liable to crack the city in two.
“If she was, those three *picts* would already be gutted and dangling over the Assemblies banner.”
“Why was she downtown?”
Her eyes went back to looking at one our youngest members, barely holding on with what small spark she had left.
“She was volunteering at one of those COVID vaccine things. Helping out by creating more of it for them. She probably used so much of her energy that she didn't have a chance at fighting back. She's always been too good.”
The data-pad cracked in my hands. Cracked, and then disintegrated. My voice was low and guttural as I spoke.
“Cataclysm...What are the four absolute rules of our Organization? The ones I agreed to with the Assembly to keep the...damage...to a minimum.”
A smile, sanguine smile appeared on her lips.
“Harm no child.”
“Correct,” I said, buttoning my jacket up.
“Do not interfere with anything medical.”
“Yes,” I murmured, closing my eyes and feeling that exquisite power that I had for so long kept asleep.
“No torture.”
“And the final one?” My power asked flowing around me.
“Nothing sexual.”
“And why those four?” The question reverberating in the air. Many of the nurses and doctors had gone white as paper, knowing full well who, and what, I was.
“Those four rules are the pillars of our society. Be it villainy or heroism, those four keep us from being the evil in the dark.”
She turned and looked at me fully.
“So you're going to do it then, Boss?”
I opened my eyes, looking at her through the shadows of me.
“Not Boss, Cataclysm.”
I felt my old friend settle in my hand, called from the depths of my soul, her smooth handle and blade awakened and ready to draw forth vengeance. Ready to draw forth the life-force to heal the little one on the other side of that glass.
“Reaper.”
[Next](https://www.reddit.com/user/daldrid1/comments/mbqw4b/shadows_awakening_part_two/)
|
Everyone has an origin story. From the highest to the lowest, to those with no powers to near gods.
I was a short, malnourished, and plain small-time thief in a dying industrial town in a small East European country. I could dig through memories, but used it to find where marks hid money, phones and jewelry. No one took notice, and I didn't care to tell them.
I learned a lot more rifling through minds. I learned English.
Piotr was an unassuming middle-aged man who hid some loot, according to my bosses. They wanted me to ask him some questions.
I was arrogant, and felt that my bosses were finally appreciating my talents.
Piotr was a tough man. Pain made him only wince. Twisting memories only made him more withdrawn.
He spat in my face, and I unleashed a psychic storm. He laughed while screaming in pain, then collapsed on the cold wooden floor.
The bosses turned me out, rather than execute me for failure.
I believed in God. Don't think that supervillains don't believe. I knew that I had killed a man because of my wounded pride, and that I must repent of my vanity. I vowed that I would never use my powers directly until I mastered it.
After Piotr's death, and my exile, I knew that I had to make drastic changes in my organization and in so many others.
I murdered people, my own and of rival gangs. I recruited their frightened soldiers. Every monarch has blood on their hands, but I made changes. They each had full health care. They had a discreet share of the profits of my endeavors. I left my door open if they needed to talk.
Other villains were horrified. They will betray you. What about moles? Yet, I knew that I could kill if it came to that. I recruited those who did their jobs well and wanted no more than that.
I had a good life. I had those who feared me and those who respected me. Still, I haven't mastered my vanity.
I was holding Onyx, my cat, when Seb was dragged, dazed but without visible marks.
"Seb, what happened?"
He spoke through dry lips. "Beat me real bad with old phone books. Sean Jones, he wants you to know he beat me. Sean . . ."
Adnan sneered while pulling Seb up. "Probably some dumb superhero showing off," Adnan said.
I shook my head. Adnan looked around the room, as if trying to hide. I wasn't angry at him.. Piotr's memories grabbed at the edges of my reasoning.
Seb coughed and Adnan wiped away blood and saliva with a tissue. "He'll be at the war memorial at sunset," Seb said in a hoarse mumble, before he coughed again.
"I don't like it. It sounds like a trap." Mira rose from a pickpocket to my second-in-command.
"You may be right," I said, looking into her dark and uncertain eyes. "I am still going."
"Why?"
"I used my powers in a way that I'm not proud of. I want to close that chapter. I trust that you will hold down the compound, Mira."
"Nastya . . ."
"Yes?"
"Message me if . . . When it's over."
"Of course." I handed Onyx to her and walked down the long underground chamber to outside.
My driver pulled in just as the setting sun hit the shield of the Defender of the Martyrs of the Nation (it sounds less mawkish in its original language). A tall and lean man stood by her feet. He wore a plumber's jumpsuit with a flat and dark cap.
"Sean Jones?"
"You know me, then?"
"Who doesn’t?" He took off his cap, and showed short and gray hair. Old superheros are unexpected, and a superhuman without a handle is unheard of. He may be before my time, but everyone knew of the Cold War superspy who could survive anything.
He retired, though, right? Never mind. He has enough free time to remember unfinished business.
Nevertheless, I had a reputation to uphold. "It's the 21st century, old man. Torture doesn't yield useful information. Even your M5 doesn't get their hands dirty like that. What, did you get carried away and thought that it was 1962?"
He smirked. "I wasn't after mere information. I wanted answers. I lost someone 15 years ago."
He didn't always have gray hair, it was light brown. I couldn't see much of his face, but there were new wrinkles.
"You knew Piotr."
"He was a contact of mine."
"You were lovers."
"No wonder that you didn't come after me. You're young and don't care."
"Come at you for what? Blackmail? Your employers no longer give a damn. I'm no priest, and I didn't care what Piotr did in his free time."
"I didn't know before I started. I thought that I was just punishing a soldier falling short of my bosses' expectations. Then I let myself take it personally. " I turned away to wipe my eyes. "I'm not asking for forgiveness, and I can't just say that I was following orders--"
"Criminal enterprises don't hold themselves to the Nuremberg laws." He bowed his head. "I do, however, see your point. It did inspire you, though." He chuckled.
"I didn't intend for him to die." I winced at how childish I sounded.
"You made a lot of changes. It's admirable, in a way."
"It isn't enough for you." I stretched my fingers out, making fists and letting again. "You couldn't forget even after 15 years."
"Certainly, and forgiving was out of the question. "
I moved closer. I could see a faint bronze glow around Sean. I knew that it wasn't the sun.
"Caring about people hurts."
"You took that risk."
"So did you."
The bronze glow became a stream of light. I focused on his eyes, willing tendrils of pain.
"If I win, I would have gotten rid of a major benefactor of organized crime. If you win, you would have a prestigious notch on your belt--"
"And you can finally die."
He sighed. "I always seek mutual benefit in these situations. "
One tendril knocked him back down. He staggered up, and glowed brighter. I could feel my clothes catch fire. I could feel my pride burn away.
| 2021-03-22T12:01:28
| 2021-03-22T09:30:23
| 32
| 24
|
[WP] At the age of 16 everyone gets teleported into a small room. In front of you is a table with all kinds of meals from apples to gourmet meats. Whatever you take a bite of will determine what superpower you'll get. You are the first Person to take a bite of the table itself
|
“hnnng” I groaned as I cracked my fingers stretching after a long day at the office.
The screens are just blinking... the lcd glow of my life
I think back to 20 years ago biting that table
At least it’s landed me a cushy income stream.
I clapped my hands and the spreadsheets and databases in front of me started moving erratically
Concentrating “JOIN TABLES!”
Ignoring all security protocols and firewalls, the worlds databases all began to merge at super speed.
I sat back to enjoy my work
My phone rings, it’s from the national Treasurer
“Ok, how much do you want *this time* to undo the mess you just made?”
|
The Arbiter was looked tired of our shit. Me and my friend, Melty still hadn't decided much to the annoyance of literally everyone else.
"C'mon guys, just pick one!" yelled Clarissa, shooting a blank at us with a finger gun. One more reason to hate licorice bullets, I suppose.
"Kids, there isn't a time limit here but none of you can leave until everyone has chosen. Melty and Albeda, please choose." sighed the Arbiter, tapping his tablet quickly. Melty wasn't the brightest bulb, so she probably wouldn't eat before I did. I really wanted to choose, but there was just so much! The table stretched into infinity, there was a little search bar above the brioche for people with more elusive tastes. Everyone else seemed to pick easily, but I had waited to see what everyone else got. It seemed more basic stuff had more solid powers, and exotic food had either super cool or super drool. Just like the food themselves, perhaps? I was still mulling it over when I felt Jayln step behind me. Her body was beefy, just like her dish.
"Make choice. Or I'll make you bite the wood. You losers might have time to waste, but most of us have things to do." she thundered, leaning threateningly over me. Ah shit. I can't do anything under pressure. A bead of sweat ran down my neck. Everyone was looking at me and Jayln, silent. The meat nomster could only contain her patience for a minute when I made no move to choose. My body was picked up by my head, Jayln's sausage fingers intruding on my vision. I opened my mouth to let out a squeal of surprise, only to be filled with wood, blood and teeth.
"AHHHHH!" I screamed, dropping from the splintered table and held my mouth. I sobbed quietly into my hand, blood dribbling through my fingers. Someone who had taken a gander at Aloe Vera rushed over to me, dulling the pain and restoring my mouth. Clarissa stormed over to Jayln, finger gun already pointed at her head.
"What the hell, man? We just wanted him to pick, not get fucking smashed! Arbiter, can you reverse the power picking? There's no way this psycho should be allowed get back into our world. Albeda might have been seriously hurt if there wasn't a healer." she cried out, to a murmur of agreement. I was seriously injured, I thought.
"Unfortunately no. It's your power for life, not even a Grand Judge can take it away from you. Now, Albeda, your power is-"
"My power?!" I said aghast, only vaguely noting my mouth's functionality. "I haven't eaten anything."
"Criteria is bite, not eat. And Jayln fulfilled her promise, you definitely bit the table. So, your power. You're invisible until you do something wrong."
"I cannot believe this," I muttered. What a shitty ability.
"And Melty's power... " I looked over to my friend in horror as I saw her chewing on her nails in anxiety.
| 2020-03-19T12:37:45
| 2020-03-19T10:47:29
| 16
| 12
|
[WP] They killed his hound, and stolen his steed. The rogue knight returns from retirement to teach them a lesson. He was known as the man you call to kill the shadow itself, and he was known as John, the Wicked.
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They killed his hound and stole his steed,
The rogue knight returns to punish the deed.
Whether Bogeyman or demon spawn,
Beware the wrath of Wicked John.
&#x200B;
\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_
I apologize if this isn't appropriate for a top level post, but it does technically say stories/poems.
|
John grimaced at the sudden purpose the frayed ends of the hound’s rope now served as he tightened the kerosine-soaked cloth to the end of a crossbow bolt. The nameless canine had chewed through the rope the day prior showing its master a feat of strength.
Whether it was motivated by a need of John’s approval or by half of his dried meat ration will never be known.
The hollowed log bobbed in the twilight waves of Bloodstone Lake, carrying its lifeless offering into the world beyond. Hopefully the companion, that had succeeded in filling a bottomless void in the depths of his soul, will reserve that same purpose for the soul of his love he lost to the plague not long before the hound had been left for him. Left for him by this same beacon of joy that saved him from a life of immense suffering. The suffering of others, done by his hand.
Words of a blessing were whispered across the tip of the bolt, which sprung to life a green flame that burned bright, reflecting in his tears.
She was everything. His strongest ally. His weakness. And now that she was gone, and her final gift taken away as well, he had no weakness.
The bolt rang true through the air, making a streak the shape of an arch, in his vision, which was distorted by his grief. He turned away as it struck the log, and walked, seemingly with a purpose stronger than his will to live, towards another day of immense suffering.
| 2018-09-05T06:16:17
| 2018-09-05T04:06:56
| 50
| 23
|
[WP] You can make a lie become truth, but only one lie at a time, once it is a lie again everyone involved will know immediately. You’re on your deathbed, holding one lie as truth for decades. You know hell will break loose once you die and the lie becomes a lie, and everybody will know.
|
In my youth, I used my power for good. For the most part, I tried to do as much good as I could, saying stuff like “No one ever goes to bed hungry.” Or “The government is not corrupt.” I was a secret hero, and the aftermath of the lies was usually better! In particular when I let the government one go, nearly the entire country realized it was a lie, and sought to fix it.
But as time went on, I slowly became numb to the world. I realized my power was a little more than just “Lies becoming truth”, it was “Whatever I say happens.” I became bitter, and started to resent living. I essentially had omnipotence but anything can tell you omnipotence is no blessing, but the ultimate curse.
If nothing mattered, what point was there to doing anything at all? Well there’s this computer games called Sim City…
Over time, my “Truths” turned from good, to outright malicious just to see what would happen. I started saying things like “An advance form of the bubonic plague broke out in Africa.” Or “North Korea is a nuclear power.”
But even then, I became numb to destruction too. So I decided finally “What’s one thing I could do that would entrench so deeply in human history and society that when it became a lie again, nothing would be the same?”
And that where I lie now. On my death bed, I’ve held this one as long as I can, I just wanted a few more years of peace before I went on, but now that I’m going, all you fuckers get to pay the price for not listening to the smart ones. The warnings, the signs, everything. You all think you’re invincible huh? Well try surviving after I’m gone.
Oh, and as for my final parting gift? About 10 years ago I set in motion one final act of contrition. A short term benifit for me, but extinction for you. Good luck weaseling your way out of this one.
“Global warming is a Myth.”
|
I think they would understand why I did it. The truth is terrifying at first, but ultimately has no immediate impact, and will not for some time. But it will still change everything. Except, it did not have to, at least, not yet, and that was the reason why I did it. Maybe I was selfish, maybe I just wanted to live out my life in the world as I had known it for my first several decades of existence. But here, now, at the end of my life, knowing what I am about to unleash, I feel guilty, because I am leaving everyone else to deal with it, and I robbed them of years to deal with it, to plan for it, to come to terms with the truth of our reality. They will have that time now, and maybe they will handle it far better than I. Maybe all I accomplished was sentencing myself to live with a sense of futility for decades until my death, as I held back the truth like a dam holding back a flood. I will not be here to see, but knowing what I know of humanity, I cannot help but be terrified that the truth will tear the world apart, the truth that we are very clearly not alone in the universe. Not by a long shot.
| 2022-11-18T07:26:10
| 2022-11-18T05:25:43
| 49
| 10
|
[WP] When turning 21, everyone develops a mutation, either physical (Claws, horns, wings) or mental (telekinesis, extreme intelligence, etc). You've just turned 21, and you're terrified of what you've gained (though others will be impressed).
Edit: Holy shit this blew up. I'm reading these and they're great! Thanks everyone!
|
"Dude, this is incredible... I've never seen anything like it"
"It's not as good as you think, I don't even know how to fit it all in my pants. I mean, like, I guess I could put one on each side?"
"Yeah but imagine all the chicks you could get!"
"I don't know man..."
"Listen, how about you do an AMA on reddit to see what people think?"
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Everyone knew this day would come, the day that would determine the rest of our lives. No one knew where the mutation came from, my parents always told me that it was just a path of life, that their parents had mutations and so did the generation before them. Today was the day, my 21st birthday, my grandmother had always told me stories about her 21st birthday, how she spontaneously developed the ability to communicate with others without oral speech, through the mind. She was on a bus to Florida, when a rambunctious fellow with a pink bow tie came down to sit next to her, he had the largest nose she had ever seen, his mutation. Without the intention of doing so, she mocked the man calling him names, he turned around, got up and spat in her face.
Well, I was about to get my mutation today, a day I had dreaded for years. What if I develop some useless mutation? I won't ever amount to anything. I hadn't prepared myself for what was to come. Thoughts flowed through my head as I was eating a bowl of cereal.
'Christine! It's your 21st birthday! I can't believe my little girl has grown so old!'
'I know, mum.'
| 2015-03-04T03:47:16
| 2015-03-04T00:56:46
| 336
| 13
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[WP] Cause of death appears to you as floating text over people's heads with no time indication. You start noticing a trend.
edit: thank you for all the truly great stories, and for taking this in directions I didn't expect.
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It was a natural fit, ending up as an obstetrician. There was a satisfaction in seeing the beginning of someone's life, and then knowing the end. That was, until about 10 years ago. It was infrequent at first. METEOR, the first one said. Now almost all of them do.
The telescope in my living room was bought once I understood the situation fully. Peering out into the stars puts my conscience somewhat at ease.
I'm delivering the last old people who will ever walk this earth.
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I don't remember when I first started seeing them. I think it was after High School, but before college. They were kind of fuzzy at first, and I thought I just needed glasses.
One day I noticed that they were becoming clearer. There were words. Some were clearer than others. Then it happened.
I was walking down the street when I saw one that was clear as the writing you're reading right now. It said, "Hit by a car." I watched fascinated about what it could mean. Besides the obvious of course.
As I was watching him, he stepped off the curb to jaywalk. He was looking the wrong way. A police chase rounded the corner and the lead car took him out without him ever seeing it.
He was a big guy, and he must have broken an axle or something, because the car came to a stop, and as he got out with a gun raised, I saw above his head, "Shot by police."
Just as the police were getting out and drawing on him, I saw a few more words snap to crystal clarity around me. "Shot by police," and "Shot by Criminal." I dropped to the ground just in time.
I heard a series of bangs and the woman behind me fell on top of me. Her blood covered me like some hot, sticky jam that hadn't quite set yet. As soon the driver was down, I got out of there.
I went to the hospital to make sure that I was okay. This was a big mistake. It suddenly occurred to me that this was my first time in a hospital since High School.
All around me were muddled blurs above heads, except dispersed among them were clear words, and slightly fuzzy words. "Old age," on the ancient man in the corner. As I watched the words blurred and disappeared. The subtle rise and fall of his chest had stopped.
There was someone being wheeled through on a gurney and I saw, "Malpractice" above their head. There was a slightly blurry "Flu" above an elderly woman that was coughing. There was even a just legible "Syphilis" above one woman.
I turned around and ran. As I was running, I looked back and saw that I could read every word behind me. "Explosion." All except one. It said, "Wake up," and she was staring directly at me. I started to hear a beeping.
The source was a backpack left under a seat. I ran to it, and as I got closer the beeping quickened. Did no one else hear it?
I got to the backpack, the beeping coming so fast it was almost one sound now. I ripped open the bag to see a bomb. No timer, just beeping. I looked up for help and saw that everyone was around me. Staring. They all had the same words above their heads. "Wake up." They opened their mouths and the beeping began to emanate from their mouths.
As one they began raising their hands towards me. Just as they touched me the beeping became solid, and the bomb exploded. It was pleasantly warm. No where near as bad as I thought it would be. There was even lots of pretty white light.
_________________________________________
The doctor looked to the waiting mother and said, "I'm sorry." He then turned to the nurse while looking at his watch, "Time of death 10:42am."
| 2015-03-31T10:42:03
| 2015-03-31T10:05:02
| 30
| 15
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[WP] The news were shocking. In one week, a gigantic meteor was going to hit the Earth and obliterate it. Chaos ensues. Anarchy breaks out. Governments fall. A week later, everyone braces as they see the meteor… miss the Earth, barely. Things get awkward.
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I heard my Elvis disc playing as I woke up from a very, very horrible nap. My old man’s recliner was stiff, and was basically ruined. But, why was I awake?
I got out of the silly chair and stretched before tripping over a bunch of containers of alcohol. I looked at almost all the empty bottles of expensive brands and cheap beers.
My surprised expression made my dog come up to me and lick my face. She ran to the open window next to my unlocked door. I followed her and to my surprise,
The sun was still out. Bright and uncomfortable to stare at. The streets were filled with confused people. Some were dressed incredibly stylish, and others were not dressed at all. I couldn’t blame them. It was supposed to be our last day. The world was doomed. The shops were looted. The roads were torched. There wasn’t supposed to be anything left… but we were all still here. The meteor was meant to hit earth directly after midnight, but we were all standing confused, wondering why we weren’t dead.
My adrenaline wore off. I was now leaning on my door. The amount of alcohol I consumed last night was unbearable. Since it was meant to be my last night, I decided to try alcohol illegally for the first time. The laws didn’t apply to us anymore. We had a whole week to do whatever the hell we wanted. In my 18 years, I’ve never felt so sick to my disgusted stomach.
My phone began to ring from the coffee table. Since everyone knew the world was still intact, it was probably my boss. In no way was I going to go to work in my condition. I did want to answer the phone though.
I basically Army crawled over to where my phone was. As I read the contact, i noticed it was my friend Clyde. He worked at NASA. He was one of the many workers who warned us about our last week left on earth.
I answered angrily. “You guys lied.” I yelled.
Clyde gave an awkward laugh. “We may have miscalculated…”
|
The sound of the bolt racheting back was so satisfying. It was why she'd picked the outdated thing. The way that her target's face painted the arena floor was satisfying too. The way he screamed and fell to the ground still horrified her, still gave her those little shivers of guilt and adrenaline.
"Another victory for Mary-Ann! She's un-fucking-STOPPABLE," the announcer roared, and the crowd cheered. She walked over and kicked his head in, the way it cracked and deformed and he gurgled and cried was so horrifying. The crowd groaned and cheered and howled and everyone had fun.
As she exited the arena and the gate shuddered behind her, a gate guard laughed and yelled "kick me mommy." She did and he yelled again, things like "what the fuck, it was a joke, you crazy bitch." So she shot him, because it was annoying. The other gate guards cheered too and everyone had fun.
She reached her trailer, took a swig of whatever it was she'd left on her makeup table, and sat down.
"Should I take some drugs?" She asked herself. The TV mounted in the corner was playing the news, as it had for some hours now, that actually the world was not going to end. Everyone was going to live. That guy she'd shot, and that other guy she'd shot.
"Who the fuck keeps astronomying and newscasting *after* they thought the world was going to end?" The answer was obvious. "Really boring people."
She felt the sudden urge to vomit. She didn't quite make it to the trash can. She probably shouldn't have drank that mystery liquid. Or killed those two guys. Or maybe it was the cancer?
She lit the mystery fluid on fire and threw it into the back of the trailer as she left. It wasn't worth cleaning up the vomit, honestly. She took some drugs on the way out.
She didn't understand people. She was going to die anyway, why stop the party? But why did the crowd stay, and all her opponents? No way everyone had cancer. They weren't all dying.
Then she realized (or the drugs hit). They all were dying, just way, way slower. She laughed on the way back into the arena. It wasn't her turn yet, she hadn't been called, but who the fuck keeps turn keeping *after* they thought the world was gonna end?
(Author's note: I wrote this whole thing while very high. Also I listened to this song the whole time. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T5qC4qezmFo&ab_channel=R.I.P.)
| 2022-06-15T10:55:34
| 2022-06-15T10:14:56
| 28
| 15
|
[WP] You are a necromancer's apprentice. One of your most important jobs is holding down the revived bodies in their first moments alive again, while they scream and beg to go back.
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I have gotten used to the dead bodies. They always stay in one place. The ones on either side of dead move around far too much. Just today one of the revived gnawed through it's leg and tried to hobble off, into the city. The gatekeepers are ever vigilant, and brought it back.
The not yet dead are generally smarter in their escape attempts, but are rarely willing to eat their own limbs off, so the attempts are decidedly less frequent. Instead they plead with me when I bring them their meals or flay their skin. Their offers do not tempt me, I shall find them much more appealing once they are dead.
Back, before I was the necromancer's apprentice, out in the city, the living mistreated me. The bastard child of the gravedigger was, when not beneath their notice, only an object of scorn. When I go out now, in the robe and skullcap of my office, they only pretend not to notice. They pretend to be calm when they see me, but my ghost whispers their fears in my ear.
Today is a day I have been waiting for. My bone polishing is impeccable, my embalming odorless, my spirit cocoons without leaks. After long scrutiny and years of practice, Master Hathon says that I have completed training in the care of the dead. I will finally join her in a transition ceremony, marking my rise to Senior Apprentice.
The transition chamber is brightly lit, with gaslamps evenly spaced around the circular room. Two of the younger apprentices have brought up the vessel, a fat middle aged man whom I recognized from the holding cells. He was securely strapped to the table, but I checked the straps while the younger apprentices watched, then waited while Master Hathon dismissed them.
She turned to me. "Apprentice Julia, what transition do you think would be most appropriate for this vessel?"
An easy question, since we'd been ordered to stuff him full of food and antiemetics for the past six weeks. "The vessel's adipose tissue makes it an ideal candidate for a ghoul. Or a bagarast if there was need for one, though if there was, I think we have a more appropriate candidate in holding cell sixteen."
"Just so. A ghoul it is, then. The mines can always use them. I will observe your setup."
I hurried about the room, pulling instruments from the drawers lining the walls. I had memorized the layout needed for this procedure, had cleaned and put away the instruments many times, but this was my first chance to do the setup myself.
It took me two tries to insert the tubes. When I worked the pumps the blood flowed out quickly. The vessel shuddered, but not for long. When the vessel was still, Master Hathon began her part of the ceremony, dipping fingers into the jar of blood to write the runes upon the vessel's skin. A ghoul ceremony does not take long, and Master Hathon ran through it with practiced grace. She finished by writing her name in runes on the chest of the ghoul, along with a serial number, then stood back to sing the final enchantment.
I positioned myself at the head of the vessel and waited. Its eyes reopened, the pupils quickly dilating until its sockets were completely black. I removed the gag to check for success and was greeted with the proper moan.
"Noooo— it was so peaceful. Let me back. Let me back." The ghoul struggled against the straps. I'd never seen a ghoul upset before.
Master Hathon looked at me. "Complete the binding apprentice. You know the words."
I spoke the words of power. "Calm, ghoul, and obey. Be true and obedient in your service and you shall go back when released. We are your only path back to that place."
When the ghoul's eyes glazed over, I smiled. Another faithful servant had been born.
\[More writing at r/c_avery_m\]
|
Dusting the ash off my coat with a “*sigh*, another one.”
The boss nags from behind, “Esteban! We’re losing moonlight! Get a new body on the slab asap while I gather mana for the next spell!”
Blood rushes to my head “Old man this is the 12th one tonight how about calling it quits and trying again another day! You keep pumping the stiffs with mana and I get a bigger mess to clean up!”
“Silence boy!” The boss spits. “You’re 100 years too early to mouth off to me! I’ll have you know I’ve quite the pedigree in the dark arts!” He says proudly.
Furrowing my brow and hauling another body on the rune etched slab, “in destruction maybe but necromancy clearly isn’t your forte’ why don’t you stick to lightning bolts and fireballs and leave the stiffs to the pros? 100 years too late for a mid life crisis don’t you think?”
I turn around to a man at peace unlike the hate filled crone he was a second ago he’s praying, communing with mana to grant him power and give life to this wretched abomination.
Flakes of blue light gather in his hands. The wind gently swirls kicking up ash as it dances in the moons pale light shining down on the corpse.
It’s beautiful in a way if not for what happens next. I hear a spark and the smell of embalming fluid is overtaken briefly by the musty smell of rain.
I dive out the way onto the ground, a pile of ash softening my fall.
“POOOOOWEEER!!!!!” The old man shoots lightning from his fingertips onto the corpse.
“OVERWHELMING POOOOWEEEER!”, he amps the voltage. The runes ablaze with energy, and then the violent crackles are replaced by a melodious hum.
I get up to see the corpse still intact for a better lack of a term, a-little char here and there but not bad, not bad, major improvement. But had he done it, finally?
The Boss glides to my side hand on my shoulder “13th times the charm dear boy.” Excitement in his voice.
The corpses eyes jut open electric blue fills the irises with life. I dive toward it as it screams trying to break away from my hold.
The corpse screams, “NOOOOO! What is this!? Why did you bring me back!?”
The boss approaches “kind sir welcome back I have graced you with a second chance at life and now that I have helped you I would like you to help me.”
“My pet gargoyle, Zuzu which I’m certain you’ve been acquainted with and the cause of your untimely end may have been in the area of your death. If you would be so kind as to point us in the direction of your town we would certainly be happy to drop you off on the way.”
The corpse grows violent, “Your pet did this?! Well I got news for you I ain’t goin’ back! They collected from me once fed my intestines to your pet, hollowed me out and left a nasty surprise where they used to be and they ain’t getting a cent outta me again, kill me!”
A smile creeps across the bosses face, “kind sir if it’s bandits your worried about we are more than qualified to handle them in exchange for your service.”
The corpse let’s out a mocking laugh, “good luck but I learned my lesson already a group of bandits, ok but messing with the IRS nooooo thank you!
The corpse jerks on a string hanging from the outside of his stitched stomach, I hear the faint sound of a tick.
“Head east, follow the moss on the side of the rocks, good luck.” Another tick.
Esteban get down! I’m snatch back quickly. The corpse explodes in a blaze of blue. The boss protects us with an unseen force, its shape being betrayed by the dance of moonlit ash filling the room.
The ash settles and the boss strokes his beard deep in thought muttering and shivering “IRS…”
“Esteban” he utters with a sullen tone. I’ve never heard him like this.
“Yes sir?”
“Prepare a homing pigeon, we’re gonna need some help.”
| 2022-04-11T09:49:42
| 2022-04-11T07:54:10
| 63
| 23
|
[WP] You have just used Pink hair dye without reading the fine print, "May cause Main Character Syndrome." Your day is becoming... interesting.
|
###**Diagnostic Criteria for Protagonist Dysphoria with Manic Episodes**^1
DSM-IV Criteria for Protagonist Dysphoria
· Hallucinations prototypically of grandiose nature^2
· Schizotypal responses highlighted by delusional thinking^3
· Periodic states of mania often leading to injury or arrest^4
· Specific symptoms, at least 3 of these 5, present nearly every day:
1. Significant change in activity; extreme restlessness, inability to stay still
2. Change in sleep; staying up all night, usually in conjunction with delusional thoughts.^5
3. Recklessness & extreme behavior; taking actions, outside of normal occurrence, that lead an increase chance of bodily harm.^6
4. Constant and noticeable change of appearance; day by day changes such as clothing, weight, costume, makeup, etc.^7
5. Increased irritability; marked by an inability to allow for common actions to play out in normal time. Demanding rapidity where not possible.^8
**Screen for conditions that may mimic or coexist^9 with Protagonist Dysphoria**:
· Substance abuse (eg. drugs, alcohol, medication)
· Family history of schizophrenia
· Borderline personality disorder
· Bipolar disorder
· Bereavement; notably the recent loss of both parents
__________________________
1. Eliot woke the morning of September 26th 2017 with the resolute knowledge that he was bound for something more. Something greater. There was nothing particularly notable about this morning, besides the fact that the curtain wasn’t completely closed so it allowed a ray of sunshine to illuminate his face. A spotlight for the rest of the day.
2. As he sat at the edge of the bed noted that he always seemed to put his left sock on first, despite being right handed. Wondering if this was abnormal. He never had a chance to put on the right one as he was interrupted by a large bang outside. Initially wrote it off as construction and headed downstairs. Stepped onto the cold tile only now realizing his bare foot.
3. He sat down to drink his morning coffee and opened up the blinds to an inferno in his midst. Realized the bang was the result of an asteroid plummeting through his neighbor’s roof. The street riddled with debris and dead bodies. People running down the street screaming. Aha! He thought to himself. Time to jump into action! Ran outside, the one socked hero he always knew he could be.
4. By the time he reached the wreckage became enraged at the fact that no one else seemed to be compelled to help. Banged his fists on a nearby police cruiser. Chewed out the cop who refused to be a willing participant, refused to be a true hero in a true time of crisis. As the heat singed his back, Eliot was thrown into the back seat of the car, pleading against this injustice.
5. Eliot sat in the cell awaiting a pretrial hearing for assaulting a police officer. Could not possibly imagine a scenario where this was a bigger issue than what seemed to be the impending apocalypse. He decided to take action. Had spent the last several years teaching himself to be alert even with minimal sleep. Lassoed the keys from a sleeping officer overseeing his cell.
6. Free from the cell, in the midst of prying the gun from the officer's belt found himself flat on his back, bullet in his thigh. Blood pouring over the ground. The officer, startled himself, called for an ambulance. Leaving Eliot enough time to hobble out the front door. Worse for wear, sure, but with a renewed resilience. Fighting against an obviously corrupt system. A system hell-bent on destroying the planet.
7. Realizing that they all knew his face now, shaved off his hair, sewing himself a contour fitting disguise, well except for his leg, still wrapped up in a tourniquet. But true heroes don’t feel pain. And he knew that. Traversed the streets dressed as the Ray of Light Hawk. Some combination of Big Bird and the Cool-Aid Man. Headed straight for City Hall, ready to demand some answers.
8. Eliot slowly realized that in the ensuing fiasco, and in readying the disguise, time was running out. Blood crusted Big Bird heading for the final showdown. Forgot exactly how far City Hall was, commandeered a small girl’s bike, tassels waving in the wind. Pedaling as fast as his bullet ridden thigh would take him.
9. About 5 minutes into this excursion found himself surrounded by police cars, and felt impending doom as the sky turned red, asteroids flying in every direction. Realizing that it would take a true master to escape this. And in a blaze of glory, was immediately subdued and returned to the medical wing of the Morningstar Psychiatric Hospital.
__________________
^[^More ^at ^/r/SquidCritic]
|
*Main Character Syndrome* Jacques pondered. The day had been very hard to remember, as if entire chunks of the day were just... gone.
“Jac!” A voice distantly called out. “Jac!”
Suddenly, Jacques was jerked out of his trance-like state. “Jac! What the hell dude? You gonna play some dodgeball or what?” It was Christian, Jacques’s long-time friend of... who knows how long.
“Yeah, sorry, I was just zoned out.” replied Jacques, getting off the bench and lining up for the game of dodgeball.
As he lined up on the orange baseline of the basketball court, he looked to his left, then to his right, noticing that his team was stacked with typical high school nerds. When he looked across the court, the opposing team seemed to be comprised of the biggest jocks in school. Time seemed to slow, every tick of the clock seemed to boom across the gym. The coach’s whistle blew, and the game was on.
He rushed to mid-court, noticing that four enemy players had reached the line of dodgeballs, while the only other player who rushed mid-court on Jacques’s team was Christian. Time slowed even further, and the light began to dim. The four enemy players were highlighted by Jacques’s suddenly heightened instincts and athletic ability.
*Four players. Three to my right, one to my left. If I’m not mistaken, the one on my left will immediately pick up two balls and throw one at me, the ones on my right will supply balls to their team.* Jacques couldn’t be any more correct, from his left, a dodgeball came whirling at him, which he caught, spun around, threw, and hit one of the players to his right. He then began throwing as many balls as he could behind him to his team, and retreated.
His team was easily picked off, one by one, taking on the enemy team by themselves.
Alas, there were five players left on the court. The three jocks from the beginning of the game, then there was Jacques and Christian.
“What’re you waiting for, pansy?” Taunted one of the enemy players. Jacques chucked a ball at him, and nailed him in his shoulder. Infuriated, one of the jocks hurled a ball at Jacques. Jacques dodged the ball, without realizing Christian was right behind him, unaware of the oncoming ball.
“No!” Screamed Jacques, as the ball hit Christian in his face in slow motion. The coach’s whistle blew as Christian fell to the ground from the force of the ball, while the other team celebrated.
“Hey man, you’re going to be okay. It’s alright.” Jacques soothed as he held Christian in his arms. Christian’s right eye was quickly swelling.
“Win this for us.” Christian whispered, clearly still dazed from the hit.
Coach came running to Christian’s aid, but it was obvious. It was too late for Christian, he had to be escorted off the court.
“You’ll pay for that!” Jacques yelled as he got up.
The enemy team paled in fear. Jacques stood in such a way that his muscles seemed to bulge more, and grew taller. “Nobody hurts my friends!”
As soon as play resumed, Jacques threw a ball straight into the air. The two opposing players confused, stared at the airborne ball, while Jacques retrieved a ball from mid-court and slung it at the unsuspecting jock. Shocked, the remaining jock who was not hit by the ball looked at his now fallen teammate, unaware that Jacques had just caught the ball that was once airborne, and was cocking back his arm to throw.
Last second, the last remaining enemy player managed to turn towards the ball, just in time to see it right before he was pelted in the face. Game over.
Jacques stood there, triumphant, a fist in the air, while his team rushed to celebrate.
—
| 2017-12-09T09:07:22
| 2017-10-18T12:46:34
| 377
| 18
|
[WP] Due to an address mix-up, an elementary school class sends their Pen Pal letters to an elite unit of Space Marines. Today, the Space Marines are sending a response.
|
Dear Sarah,
I was quite pleased to receive your letter! I hope you don't mind, but I shared it with my colleagues. It isn't often that we get questions such as yours, and we have had a wonderful time discussing them. Below, you may find our answers.
1. My Name is Bill. My friends call me Billy-boy. It is a ironic sort of name. Have you learned what irony is? It is when you say one thing, but mean another. They call me Billy-boy, because I am the largest person in my company. This is something that we often do at work. It can be stressful at times, and so we try to break the stress by busting each other's chops some. Don't worry though, we are all friends. Brothers, really.
2. I am 24 years old. I am sure that seems quite old to you! Actually, it is pretty old where I am as well. I am the second oldest person in my company. Only my boss is older. We call him "Captain" -- another nickname of sorts. The reason that I am the oldest is that most people don't last too long in my line of work. It isn't that they quit, per se, but sometimes they have to leave before they are ready. It is sad for all of us that are still in the company, but we all imagine they are off doing something they like better.
3. As you might have guessed, I am male. Not everyone in my company is. In fact, we are about half men, half women. The company I work for had a long history of not allowing women in, but then we realized that women were just a capable as men. If anyone ever tells you you can't do something because you are a women, you don't believe them, ok?
4. I am afraid that I can't give you specifics on my location. The rules of the company that I work for forbids this. I can tell you the following: where I am is very hot. And humid. We are surrounded by animals that we call "bugs." Some of the bugs are very large. And they are not very nice. But that is why I am here.
5. My colleagues and I are here to deal with the mean bugs. Did you ever go into an old house, and there were lots of bugs there? Would you want to live in that house with all the bugs? I didn't think so! Those bugs might bite you, and be mean bugs. So, what do you do? You call an adult to come get rid of the bugs. That is what my company does. We are getting rid of bugs, so that nice people like you can live here.
6. When I am not working, I have lots of things I like to do. Sometimes, I hang out with my friends. We play a game where we all get a bunch of cards, and then we try to guess what cards everyone is holding. If you guess right, then you don't have to do your chores that week! If you guess wrong, you do other people's chores. Also, sometimes, we play games with balls and sticks. One person has a tube, and you have a stick. You try to get the stick into the tube. It is a pretty good way to pass the time.
7. I am afraid that we do not have pets in this company. The closest thing we have are some of the bugs we captured. Sometimes, we play games with them, too. One bug that we captured was able to hold his breath for three hours! Isn't that amazing? I had guessed that the bug could hold his breath that long, and so I din't have to to chores for a week!
Well, I hope that answers your questions. We all had a great time reading your letter. We hope that we will hear from you again!
Sincerely,
Billy-boy
|
Then the letter goes to the wrong address And ends up somewhere In western lustria to a skink .
Dear Warm Blood
I am dearly sorry for the extinction of your pet gerbil , Giggles . However I feel it was your fault since you had the chance to get a proper organism like a gecko or maybe a cold one .
Times have been difficult recently as my friend textorc was maimed and killed by his salamander , Wally. in other news many of my slam superiors have disappeared .
Sincerely , Textoc
P.S. I don't know who these Tau people are and don't remember me telling about them previously .however they sound like great people worthy of the old ones praise .
P.S.S. I felt bad packages up Wally for you so you can have a proper pet . He's a bit bitey.
| 2015-01-26T15:55:42
| 2015-01-26T14:45:55
| 20
| 11
|
[WP] You're a daycare worker, watching over toddlers, when the imminent end of the world is announced. It becomes increasingly clear none of the kids' parents are going to show up as the end inches nearer.
|
[Poem]
*(Cheery, upbeat, acoustic guitar backing. D major).*
Little Johnny dry your tears,
Don't you worry, don't you fear,
Teacher's here, right by your side,
Have no care to what's outside.
Little Sally, don't be scared-
See the flowers over there?
Painted brightly with a smile.
We'll be down here for a while...
Little Tony, don't you frown;
See your classmates all around?
We're together, girls and boys,
Let's forget that awful noise.
Little Suzie, you'll be fine;
Let's put sadness out of mind!
Think of kittens, think of snow,
Leave that doorknob, please don't go!
*(Tempo slows, quieter volume. Backing still in D major, but becomes softer and almost somber.)*
Little children, hush the sound,
I need you to listen now:
In the closet, softly creep...
Shut the door, and safe you'll keep...
(Edited to comply with sub rules)
|
I stared down at the seven kids currently standing before me. The closest, Susie Wilkins, tugged on my pant leg. “Miss Mika? When is mommy coming to get me?” She asked me, teardrops running in rivulets down her tearstained face. “I don’t know, hun.” I replied, lifting her up. Feeling my phone buzz in my pocket, I held Susie on one arm and checked it with the other. What I saw was astonishing. “The World Health Organization has...what??” I read aloud, a habit from working here. “What is it?” Susie wailed, her tears threatening to start again. “Susie, please- I’m trying to read something important. How about you go play with Milo?” I offered. She nodded happily, scrambling from my arms and running to play with the boy on the other side of the room. I was now free to read the rest of the alert.
ATTENTION. THIS IS NOT A DRILL. DO NOT DISREGARD THIS NOTICE.
The World Health Organization (WHO) has officially diagnosed Miriam Jahbat, a 29-year-old Caucasian female, with a curious asymptomatic virus. The scientists were observing her condition when she suddenly took a turn for the worse and passed away. Upon death, Jahbat’s corpse excreted a blue mist that smelled vaguely of almonds. Other researchers testified that it had smelt of vanilla, or citrus. Since observing the blue mist, several researchers have passed away. The pathogen is believed to be highly toxic. The WHO encourages everyone who has had contact with Mrs. Jahbat to be tested for this mist. It is shown to reside in the lungs, and kids are shown to be incredibly vulnerable. The only known survivor of the Blue Mist Pathogen, or BMP, is a female of unknown age or origin and is on the run. However, she appears to be Caucasian, with brown hair and green eyes. If you happen to see this individual, please contact the WHO.
STAY WHERE YOU ARE.
FACE MASKS ARE ADVISED.
OFFICIALS WILL COME TO COLLECT SURVIVORS AND UNINFECTED.
PLEASE BE ADVISED THAT IF YOU SMELL ANYTHING UNUSUAL, LEAVE THE AREA. DO NOT BREATHE IN THE BLUE MIST.
I dropped my phone, and the screen shattered. I couldn’t believe what I read. First off, the notice had described me perfectly. But I had never breathed in a mysterious mist, let alone flee a hospital. Second of all, nobody was coming to get these kids. They were my responsibility now. I picked up the children closest to me, it just so happened to be Milo and Susie, and called everyone’s attention to me. “Who wants to play in the greenroom today?” I asked, and received cheers of assent. Without a second thought, my group crowded around me like a group of ducklings and down we went into darkness. I could hear another girl, Stacy, whimper on the stairs. “Stacy? Are you alright?” I called. “Scared.” Came the answer from the dark. “It smells like...oranges.” Milo said. My eyes widened as I suddenly walked into a cloud of scent. That smelt of vanilla. “We’re doomed.” I whispered, hurrying the kids down the stairs.
| 2020-10-22T09:12:07
| 2020-10-22T08:37:49
| 313
| 123
|
[WP] So many people have become vampires that the government had to step in to protect the remaining humans. Every morning vampires receive a canister filled with a mysterious liquid that will sustain them for one day. While it has been confirmed to not be blood the truth is even more horrid.
|
Feel free to leave critique, I enjoyed writing this.
The government providing every vampire with a canister was honestly a stretch to begin with. Although, compared to the insanity that was happening out there it wasn’t like it could get worse.
Lo and behold they managed to do it. I mean, almost everyone thought that it was just gonna be a canister of garlicized holy water with red food coloring but no, like a fucking patron saint of vampires that cargo plane dropped thousands of little red boxes, filled with little red vials. And they did the trick. They were good.
There were ethical concerns, how all of this blood could possibly be harvested without turning cities into blood-mills. The government never answered us, and after a few weeks the question became taboo. After all; there is no good answer and nobody, *nobody*, wanted to go back to the way it was before. It wasn’t like we had any moral high ground after-...
...Infrastructure was collapsed during the fighting but after a few months of stability the populace brought electricity and running water back up.
Which led me to here; my lab at the police department. I was asking the taboo question, sampling the blood and comparing DNA. There’s a few reasons I can’t just sit and shut up. We need to take responsibility if we’re still monsters, just playing pretend at society while the Butchering happens somewhere out of sight and mind. The second thing is the taste.
Only a few people know the taste to begin with.
It has the same profile as infant blood.
...I’m not proud of what I am...
...I made a couple of discoveries. And they don’t make any goddamn sense.
1. All of the vials are “human” blood.
2. The blood cells are eight times the size of a regular human’s.
3. They all have the same exact DNA. All of it.
|
“Dude, I think I figured it out.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah, I was browsing the The old old video stuff, like YouTube and that-“
“Nerd.”
“Phillistine. Anyway I came across this video and this dude was taking apart this weird like juice presser thing that was made like turn of the century or some shit-“
“Do you want with or without Sucra?”
“With. So anyway, there was this like machine, right, bout the size of your forearm, and this dude was kinda hard to understand cause they spoke kinda weird back then, but he was actually able to disassemble it, like, with these metal tools and shit-“
“Huh.”
“Yeah! And I just kinda had it on as, like, background noise while I was checking my blood levels online, and I couldn’t figure out how the juice or food or whatever came out cause it’s from like, way back in the 10s-“
“Swagalicious,my duuuuude!”
“K...”
“Brah!”
“Yep”
“On that fleeky!-“
“Yep, shuttup-“
“*thhpt*”
“-and so its before like, nucleaics and C0 capture and make on demand shit, but then he PULLS OUT THIS, like, BAG! And the food thing is INSIDE the BAG!”
“Ugh!”
“I know! But that’s not the weird thing, the crazy thing is after he opens it up, and he shows us what’s in it?”
“Dude I’m eating-“
“-it’s the same shit from the CanMan, man!”
“Whaaaaat-“
“It’s the same, exact shit! He’s all like ‘oh normally I like pomegranate’ “ but I’m looking at the stuff in the thing and the little like bean things that we have to put in the fridgermaker and I swear to Beezus, it comes out looking the exact, EXACT same!”
“...oh.”
“Apparently the company, Juicy or Jucero, or Jucino or something I can’t remember, made a bunch of these, actually sold each pack for use in their like weird, proto-maker-fridger-thing, for the equivalent of like 100k today-“
“Well I mean that’s the cost of like a CuppaCawfee-“
“-but! But! BUT!”
“But!”
“But! A ha! -I-, internaut extraordinaire-“
“Nerrrrrd...”
“-I- did some digging! Turns out, this company didn’t quite go under!”
“Oh no?”
“No no! They were kinda like low-key for a couple of years but then I found this old ass Washington Post article from around the time of the Awakening-“
“Ner-“
“-Shuttup-, and then the dude who was like lead maker or something on THAT project pops up as like a recluse maker/inventor/CEO of!...guess!”
“Hnnng...”
“Guess!”
“I don’t wanna-“
“I’ll give you a hinnntttt! ‘What’s thick and red and oh so fine?’”
“AmeriCan?”
“Liked and subscribed!”
“Dear god... now it is so who is Nerd-“
“- although technically it was something else before it was bought by like PepsiPal-Disney, but apparently he had just, like, miles and miles of the stuff in warehouses vacuum sealed and preserved and like gonna expire-“
“Oh-“
“Uh huh! And then suddenly he gets a grant, and then suddenly we’re all seeing RedMist on the food pyramid, and then suddenly Ami-Zone starts sending it out free for AwakenPrime, and then they bring in the subscription models, and then there’s a merger and galas for a buncha white dudes on Mars, and then-“
“So, fine, tldr- we’re...all eating-“
“Uh huh.”
“Hundred year old...”
“Yeeeepppp...”
“Failed corporate reconstituted RedMist.”
“Failed corporate reconstituted *Pomegranate* RedMist.”
“I mean...I dunno.”
“Think about it.”
“I’d rather not...like, I still gotta eat it.”
“Ah but that’s the thing...”
“Oh?”
“Yeah. I mean...do we?”
| 2020-02-16T05:59:46
| 2020-02-16T03:27:51
| 54
| 12
|
[WP] Amidst a major revenue crisis, the US government institutes a nationwide "swear jar". As years go by, excessive use of expletives becomes a major status symbol and a hallmark of the upper class.
|
Roy and Jennie were enjoying a romantic dinner at the classiest joint in town. It was only their first date, but so far, they had really been hitting things off. Roy had been saving up all his money to use on the perfect girl, and tonight he had finally found her.
“How's your food, bitch?” Roy asked, trying to sound nonchalant. He usually did not swear at a girl on the first date, but Jennie seemed like a special type of girl. Classy, beautiful, great sense of humor. A girl like her was worth her weight in shit.
*Oh my god,* Jennie thought, blushing deeply. *Did he really just call me a bitch, on the first date!?* Jennie didn't think Roy was particularly wealthy, although maybe he had some secret inheritance stashed away somewhere that he hid from prying eyes. She had never met a man who was so confident and forward.
“It's really good.” she answered, “The caviar is delicious, try some!”
“Nah it's okay, I bet it tastes like shit,” he finished smoothly.
Jennie almost choked on her dinner. Not only was Roy swearing regularly, he mixed his curses seamlessly into the flow of their conversation, as a maestro would orchestrate a harmony with a melody. Whenever she wanted to swear, she usually saved up some money until she had enough for three swears, waited until something really pissed her off, and and then would go out to her garden and yell “ASS! PUSSY! FUCK!” at the top of her lungs.
“I must say, Roy,” Jennie said staring deep into his brown eyes, “you have quite the classy vocabulary. Tell me, do you kiss your mother with that mouth?” she said, trying to sound seductive.
“I won't show her my swear bill if you don't,” Roy said.
“Deal.” She thought about swearing back at him playfully right then and there, but remembered that her next swear allowance was dedicated to calling her neighbor Edna a shit-head, who kept letting her dogs crap on her front lawn.
Four hours later, the couple stood on Jennie's porch, ready to part ways.
“I had a fantastic night,” Jennie said enthusiastically.
“Me too!” said Roy, beaming.
“Why don't you come inside, just for one drink,” she insisted hopefully.
“No, I really should be getting home,” Roy said. “Work in the morning and all that-”
He was cut off mid sentence as Jennie grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and pulled him close to her. “I wasn't asking you Roy, you fucking cunt-head.”
* * *
“Wait, STOP!” yelled Roy's son Jimmy, interrupting the story. “You're telling me that the first time you met mom, you guys just swore a lot at each other?”
Roy shrugged. “Pretty much. I wanted to impress her, give her a night that she would never forget.”
“That night must have cost a fortune though!” Jimmy exclaimed. “You would have been paying off that debt for years.”
Roy nodded. “I did.”
“Was it worth it dad?” his son asked.
Roy smiled warmly, and put a hand on his son's shoulder. “For you and your mother? It was worth every fucking penny.”
Jimmy was unconvinced. "It all sounds like a huge waste of money to me."
"Just wait till I tell you the story of how I proposed to her."
|
The old thin man in the office chair had a sad look in his eyes. This was Charles' third time at the principal's office this week. *Being* the principal, he thought it wouldn't bother him so much. The school was, essentially, his to run, so long as the local school board found nothing too objectionable to his methods.
Sometimes, those policies sent a youth to his office. Rarely twice in the same week. *Never* five times in the same month. The principal could not have thought a youth in this recovering economy would be so reckless of their future prospects.
Until today anyway.
"Charles, what brings you to my office today?"
The surly high schooler did not respond, with words or eyes. Trying to shut himself off from the world in his own office? Principal Harrows would have none of it.
"Son, you need to tell me---"
"*I'm not your fucking son!*" The boy gaped, then shut his mouth again. Pale and, anxious to refortify his defenses.
It only took the old man a few moments to remember the news. A tragic accident. A decent inheritance. Enough to last the boy and his younger sister through college. And yet... this.
*A damn shame*, the principal thought. Venting was at one time healthy, and necessary, the principal believed. Then the policy was made federal. It made children from lower-class families more subdued. From middle-class families, pent-up. From the upper-class, *impossible* to deal with.
Figuratively anyway. He was a school principal after all. Then he remembered what he had just done.
"That was insensitive. I'm sorry." Age didn't bring him wisdom, as often the old man wanted to remind himself. His *failures* did. The mics would have picked that up, and deducted the amount for the number who heard, multiplied by the density of the swear word. The outcry came at the boy's expense. The principal never imagined he would be on the other end of one of the most brutal bullying tactics he see's on campuses across the state.
So Principal Harrow meant the apology more than the day the principle himself wrote that sorry letter to his mom when he ran from home those many years ago. Alcohol did terrible things to a broken home. More so after the Swear Jar Bill passed. Working with youth to bring them on the straight and clean was the plan this whole time. Then he.... up and reminds his student that their parents are no longer there for him.
"I'm... alright sir."
Meek, and quiet. Distant, as though the reassurance came from a place the boy rarely visited. The old man didn't like to not have his back rest against the chair, but he leaned over anyway, resting his frame on two light elbows. The message *must* be driven. No matter the cost.
"You know you can't afford to swear Charles."
The boy's shoulders began racking fiercely in minute gestures. A healthy arm shielded his eyes from the old man looking at him. The principal sympathized. It was a hard thing to say. But he wasn't done.
"I can tell you a secret though."
It took a few moments for the shoulders to remain still. And attentive.
The principal brought his voice down to a somber whisper, ready to complete the message. "You can apologize, and if *every* person accepts the apology verbally, you can get refunded."
Charles stood from his seat abruptly, his chair skidding behind him. "That's the first I've heard about it."
The principal shrugged. "It's a recent amendment. The school board likes being rewarded for the mistakes of their youngers. But even the government can wise-up."
Charles got antsy, as though he were ready to burst. "I... I need to go apologize to my class right away sir. May I, please, I gotta---"
"Yes, yes, just keep a strong mind next time Charles. You're smart enough to know that."
He nodded eagerly, and burst from the principal's office. The old man reclined back into his chair with a sigh. *Sure,* he thought to himself, *I could have reminded him to apologize to me as well and get some change back.*
Principal Harrow looked through the blinds at a familiar schoolyard wistfully. That moment he realizes he forgot to do so, will seal the lesson.
*Wisdom grows from our failures after all.*
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
More at r/galokot, and thank you for reading!
| 2016-02-13T22:17:20
| 2016-02-13T17:35:24
| 384
| 62
|
[WP] The amount of things promoting Raid: Shadow Legends is starting to get suspicious. News anchors, Congressmen, random Live Leak videos and even terrorists are thanking them as a sponsor. The SCP Foundation decides to investigate this as a possible anomaly.
|
**SCP-62109**
**Object class** - Euclid
**Containment procedures** -Any instance of SPC-62109 must be recorded and removed from its location. This may involve speaking to video host platform, YouTube, as the videos on the site are the most common location of instances of The anomaly. Tape recordings of the anomaly, referred to as SCP-62109-a are to be held within a containment drawer.
The only cases in which any SCP-62109-a is to be removed from containment is by class D personnel and under supervision.
**Description** -SCP-62109 is an often repeated advertisement for the mobile phone game Raid: Shadow Legends. These advertisements seem normal and have little to no noticeable effect on human subjects. Anomalous properties only manifest when the person effected by SCP-62109 attempts to download and play the game.
As detailed in experiment 62109-a-1, Subjects exposed to SCP-62109-a who then download and play the game become characters in the game themselves. They seem to vanish upon opening the application on a mobile device. Upon the next update new characters are introduced, the new characters heavily resemble all our vanished D class personnel.
It also appears that subjects who interact with SCP-62109 by itself have no apparent anomalous effects. Likewise, subjects who have downloaded the game and have played it before interacting with SCP-62109 are not effected.
|
Be there or be square he said, no one saw it coming when the squarespace attacked.
Then the global internet black out was ushered in by nordvpn.
While people were too distracted turning into squares or unable to polish their spears at midnight it finally happened.
Raid: Shadow Legends succeeded where no other scummy microtransaction riddled mobile game could.
They had finally sacrificed enough bank accounts to summon the microtransaction god, the king of all clashes and crusher of all candies: E'Aye.
But there is a glimmer in the heart of Poland, a holy order dedicated to fight this evil, known as the Projekt. Pre-orders have been sent but the internet is dark and the real world full of terrors.
We do not know if salvation can be claimed, but what we do know is gamers will not be going down without a fight.
| 2020-01-30T15:00:46
| 2020-01-30T14:46:19
| 20
| 13
|
[WP] Write a letter to someone you miss
It's been a rough week. Everyone has someone they wish were still with them. Write to them and tell them how you feel. Pour your heart out. No judging. Even if they never see it, someone will. And thank you. It's tough to be alone.
|
Hey Scott.
I guess I took everything you did for granted. It's been really hard without you here. Your daughter still asks when you're coming to pick her up and she always gets sad when I explain to her that you can't.
She really loves you and you were a good father. She started listening to one of the books you recorded. Hearing your voice always makes her so happy. She follows along in the book like you remind her to every chapter. It's hard. I burst into tears when I heard you sound out a word you knew she'd have trouble with.
We miss you. I hope where ever you are you're not in pain anymore.
|
Name changes, for privacy reasons, but here goes.
My dear Maria,
I recall in vivid detail the conversations we once shared, about where our lives were headed, our hopes and fears, our dreams and nightmares. I never told you outright how much I love you, and that is the only thing in life I truly regret. I tried telling you one day (though I didn't do a very good job of it), and you were clear that you weren't ready for a relationship beyond just being friends at the time.
The next few months, we drifted away from one another. I watched you find someone else; those next few months, watching you looking so happy with someone else, were the hardest times I have ever gone through. The pain I went through during that time is something that I pray neither you nor anyone else has to experience. It very nearly broke me, and it is only by the grace of God that I made it through.
After we reconnected and restored our friendship, I told myself that I would respect your wishes and simply be an honest, supportive friend. For a time, I convinced myself that it would be possible to simply be your friend and keep my feelings for you contained. However, over the past few weeks, I have realized that I could more easily hold back the Amazon River with my bare hands than hold back my feelings for you.
Any time I spend with you is the high point of my week; when I go about my day, I see your beautiful face and hear your delightful laugh. I remember in vivid detail your wonderfully compassionate smile, and I count the days until I can see you again. Will I ever be able to tell you I love you? Must my feelings remain hidden forever? How I wish I could show you just what you mean to me!
I hope that someday I find the opportunity to tell you this; I realize now that as much as I value your friendship, I care about you too much to keep up this pretense of only caring about you as a friend. Someday, I will no longer be able to keep from telling you.
All my love to you,
Davin
| 2017-11-05T23:19:05
| 2017-11-05T21:31:39
| 58
| 19
|
[WP] We've all seen Zombies, Astroids, and Nukes. Write an apacolypse with an origin you havent seen talked about before.
|
Captain's Log, December 16th 2022, USS Alaska
Life probably originated in the deep ocean. Eventually, some molecule formed that had the miraculous property of self-replication, feeding on the energetic proton gradients in the porous limestone near hydrothermal vents. By the power of evolution, mutations that improved self-replication were selected for.
Almost all life on earth is descended from that first strain of life (though not all, such as Archaea). The reason life hasn't re-evolved is that competition for resources is now fierce. Back in the beginning, survival of the fittest merely meant survival; now it means outperforming a billion years of evolution. It would require astronomical luck for a viable new Replicator to form.
Luck for it. Disaster for us.
About four days ago, a new Replicator formed. Like an invasive species feasting in its new habitat with no natural predators, so too did this new beast set upon the Earth. It's food: oxygen.
Most humans are dead now, the composition of our atmosphere no longer suitable for life. What limited supplies of oxygen we had, mostly at hospitals, ran out within six hours. Not even the President's bunker was safe: a few Replicators hitched a ride in when the door opened for the boss. There are a few pockets of safety, places that were hermetically sealed before the Replicator formed. Mostly submarines. Which brings us to me, the most senior captain in the largest submarine fleet in the world - I am now the commanding officer of at least 80% of humanity.
I've got a plan - it's one hell of a long shot. We're praying that the Replicator burns itself out in a few weeks, which we will only discover by sacrificing submarine crews, one at a time just before their supplies run out. I don't control the odds, but I do control how the dice are rolled. We, humanity, won't roll over and die without one final stand.
|
Emily been counting on my left for as long as i can remember, heck shes the only way we keep tracking how long we have been here. In this purgatory covered in a darknes as black and as thick as tar
I was in my cubicle at work when it happened. I spotted a wall of darkness rushing towards us from the corner of my eye as i typed up some annual reports. As i turned i was hit by a wave of darkness and sucked into it. Cant really describe the feeling as all my senses stopped that day. Complete inescapable pitch darkness gripped the planet.
I only sense that inexist; im a consciousness floating in an ocean of thoughts with other peoples thoughts rushing or rolling past my ears, i think i still have ears. I dont feel hungry tired or anything that lets me know im alive. I just know im there.
I can hear me the thoughts of all the people around me but for some reason they cant hear me so we cant communicate but are aware we are many. I hear voices in different languages which come and go on this consciousness.I figured that some people could only hear others can only broadcast and dont hear the others around them. We are alone in this together.
I enjoyed hearing people come up with theories on what happened. From a spell gone wrong to religious superstition. A Belgium physicist once popped up and frantically tried to work out what happened. He settled on that the universe found a level more stable then the level were on and a chain reaction started and we were wiped out. False Vacuum Decay. He couldn't explain why we were alive though and why we could hear each other. He soon lost it and voice was carried of into the distance.
Not as many broadcasters floating arounding as there use to be. Seems whether they died or choose to be quiet i will never know yet Emily remains; counting the days that have passed since she last heard her mothers voice. The last voice she ever heard before it faded to black. She will never know that im right there by her side
| 2022-12-08T00:10:50
| 2022-12-07T23:52:11
| 22
| 11
|
[WP] You are frantically driving back to your house. Your wife called you for she delivered, even though it has been just six months. You open the door and find your wife hugging a 1 foot egg. "I will explain everything honey, but could you warm our baby for a while, I am hungry AF."
|
"...how?" I ask softly, tilting my head as I look at the egg.
"I'll explain later, I-"
"No!" I cut her off, waving my hand, "How do I warm it? Er, him or her or...?"
"Grab the blanket from our bedroom and wrap them up." My wife wobbles slightly, before collapsing onto the couch. She heaves a heavy sigh, before forcing herself back to her feet.
By the time I got to our bedroom and back, she was gone. I'd always known she was a little weird, but this was a bit... much. Nonetheless, I did my best to wrap up the egg, practically swaddling it in the thick comforter.
I wasn't too concerned about ruining the blanket, personally. Honestly, I never really used it. My wife was always super warm, and if I tried to get under the blanket with her, I'd start sweating like a pig.
I looked down at the swaddled egg again and frowned as something clicked. "Holy fuck, I fucked a dragon."
|
My mind temporarily broke down. My wife was naked, sitting in the bathtub, frantically covering an giant black sphere in a towel. “I’m so sorry, Steven, I’m so sorry. I should’ve told you-“, She pleaded as I stared speechless at the giant ball. A faint layer of red goo coated the sphere, and I then realized that my wife’s clothes, which were on the floor, were covered in the same red goo. Suddenly my brain understood that the black sphere was an egg, it was *her* egg, and she had created it.
“Ho-how…” I stuttered, looking at my wife in shock. Not twelve weeks ago she was a brilliant quantum engineer who had revolutionized communications. Now she was sitting in my bathtub, cradling a giant black egg, begging me for mercy. “I’m… I’m not human… I’m not a human. Please, help me cover it. If she’s is exposed to air for too long she’ll hatch too early and die”. I quickly get to helping her cover the egg. “That’ll do for now. Th-thank you…”.
“Alex, I’m not upset about… whatever it is that you are. I just want you and the child to be safe. That’s what I’ve always wanted, and nothing will change that”.
“Thank you, sweetheart. Now I suppose I have some explaining to do.
(In progress?)
| 2022-08-22T14:13:07
| 2022-08-22T11:16:03
| 23
| 16
|
[WP] You can heal anyone from any injury or disease, by either taking the affliction on yourself, or passing it onto someone else. You've been using this gift for years, but no one has realized it.
|
When I was little, my father used me. He used me as a puppet, a dancing monkey for his congregation. I did have the powers- I was the "real deal" but I didn't understand them. Our pews would be filled with the sick, and though I didn't quite know what was happening, some part of me realized I wasn't really helping. A disabled person would come up to the front- some poor soul who longed to walk down the pier with his lover- and I'd heal him, his legs growing strong and straight, right there in front of everyone and God. The crowd went wild. Always, my father's booming voice shouting prayers and quoting scripture, the victim's family dancing for joy. Nobody saw what really happened. I didn't notice for a while. The commotion overwhelmed me. I must have been seven or eight the first time I saw it. The first time I realized what felt so wrong about my "miracles". An old man was sitting in the front row, hands clasped on his lap and eyes closed in prayer. They opened- slowly- to witness the miracle at work. He must've been around ninety years old. He had a woman with him, perhaps his daughter. He looked frail. If I could guess, he was battling cancer. Maybe Alzheimer's. Today's subject was a girl, just a couple years older than me. She had cerebral palsy. Her spine was all twisted against the wheelchair, and he knees pressed together as if trying to merge. I laid my hands on her, and my father chanted his prayers. Normally I kept my eyes closed, but I had never worked with someone my age, I wanted to watch her getting better, wanted to see her stand up and smile. And she did. Slowly, her spine straightened and her knees drifted apart. She turned her head to me and smiled, started to cry. I smiled back, reached for her hand to help her out of her chair. We turned to face the congregation, and that's when I saw it. The old man. He was doubled over, the woman with him cradling his head, frantically looking around for help. Everyone was too excited, celebrating my miracle, as I watched the man's back arch and knees press together as hard as they could. The old man could no longer move, and the woman was getting more panicked by the second. I tried to get my dad's attention, but he glanced down at me sternly- with a look that commanded respect. I felt helpless. I couldn't help him without giving it to someone else. It all came crashing down on me- all this time, I've been making people in the congregation sicker. All these years, I've been passing the burden onto someone else. That was the day I realized I wasn't doing the lords work, I wasn't blessed by God. I was cursed. Cursed by the devil himself.
|
Irritating, is what this power is.
I found out about it when my younger sister finally got chickenpox.
Grossly, I poked one of them and found it disappeared. I kept on doing this, and every spot removed, perfectly smooth skin underneath a sore that disappeared.
"Mummy, look! I'm a doctor!" I announced proudly, pointing at my sister.
Mum was more interested in my hand and arm. No pox on any other part of me, and didn't-you-have-chicken-pox-already-two-years-ago?
Within three days the sores had fallen off of me, and I suppose my old immunity stuck around from ages ago.
When I was 7 I realised it was a transfer rather than a healing, and at 12 I understood that it was sensible (nay, reasonable!) to accept anything I had had already from my classmates.
Dad joked that I suffered from "the constant cold" and I responded by punching him in the nose. Snot flowed as well as blood. What's more: my cold disappeared. I think I understood what that meant.
I knew my Dad once had malaria, and I tested this by poking a classmate who had been to Africa. Silly assumption, but I guess anti-malaria pills really work because the girl never looked sick, but after a good uppercut Dad looked like death for a week.
At 16 I discovered a great party trick: getting hammered and starting a fight.
My right hooks were "intoxicating" and usually lead to victory by vomit, rather than a knock-out. I wouldn't have classed being tipsy as a "disease" but I wasn't going to turn down extra power.
This lead to my knack for boxing, provided I occasionally hit bare knuckles on bare skin, and once I landed a "karma punch" people swore it felt like twenty. Once I even got a friend to kick me in the balls before a fight. After I lost a bouncer his job for being "drunk on the job" I thought I'd better tone back my "violent usage."
I still wonder what would happen to the poor mugger who only stabs or shoots me halfway.
A lot of people I know spend money on all the different drugs, to find "new experiences." I forked out mine for vaccines, and tried just about everything there was a cure for. Spoiler: none of them are particularly pleasant.
After a few years of "doing good" (mostly poking anyone who looked off-colour) I settled down in an ebola "camp" and bravely took a little in (within punching distance of one of the survivors.)
I sat down feeling a little pale and, for the umpteenth time, not very clever for taking on something so strong. Another doctor noticed me, head in hands, breathing heavily on the bench instead of tending to a suddenly-rather-healthy-looking-patient. I felt a poke on my arm, and all my limbs (instead of internal bleeding) again.
| 2016-02-03T10:50:24
| 2016-02-03T10:31:22
| 15
| 11
|
[WP] After a Pyrrhic battle defending their homeworld, the defenders detect another fleet. It's the Humans, and they're sending in the hospital and engineering fleets.
|
Of over 1000 ships that stood by in defence of Acvia, less then 200 returned. Most bore significant battle damage, leaking atmosphere into the void of space. Some were barely held together, others had lost most of their crew. It was a sobering sight.
The Acvians were joyful, but even that rang hollow. With so many ships destroyed, it was only a matter of time before the aggressive Vadrile returned to finish them. The defenders were hailed as heros, an attempt to improve the world's morale.
A warning sounded from the Subspace Monitoring Station as the ships pulled into orbit. Another fleet approached, much larger then the force they had barely fought off. They moaned, knowing that they couldn't stop this new fleet. But still, the barely functional ships turned in defence.
The Subspace ruptured, spitting forth this new fleet. Hundreds of gleaming vessels, much larger then the Acvians ships, appeared. The first images sent back showed a few painted white, with red crosses. Others were painted grey, adorned with what appeared to be crossed tools of green. A few of the grey ships were enormous, sporting immense doors that were far larger then appeared necessary. Surronding them were colossal ships of black.
Half peeled off, heading to the remains of the fight. Of the others, their lead ship deployed a tiny shuttle. It flew into communications range, and broadcasted an open signal. As it loaded up, the Monitors saw a strange, dark-skinned person, with 2 large arms and a small head. It spoke with calm assurance.
"Hail Acvia. I am General Kolin, of the Human Mercy Fleet. We received your request for aid, and offer our services. We have medical and engineering vessels available."
The Head Monitor rushed to set up a responding signal. She rarely used her authority over the Council. However, there was no time to wait. As the link established, she groomed her feathers, and straightened her coveralls. Satisfied she looked presentable, she spoke as the link finally connected.
"Greetings General Kolin. I am Head Monitor Glerth, of the Acvian Council. With my authority as Defence Chief, I accept your assistance. To all ships of the Acvian Fleet. Allow the Humans access."
"Thank you, Head Monitor."
The link faded, and Gleeth sat, scratching her wings with her one central arm. She had heard of the Human Mercy Fleet before. They were one of the few good races, despite their self admitted turbulent past. They offered aid, and took little payment in return, save for a supply restock if possible.
Their ships drew close, and began to split apart. Their black ships linked with the few fully operational Acvian ships, forming a more potent defensive barrier. The white and grey ships headed for clusters of damaged ships. As they did, smaller shuttles were launched of the same colour scheme.
The gargantuan grey ships stopped short, not launching any smaller ships. Instead, their doors opened to reveal piles of raw materials. These mobile supply depots remained in an optimal location, allowing for the smaller grey vessels to easily access the materials they needed.
The outlook of the Acvians changed again. The spark of hope rekindled in them, as humanity's selflessness proved they weren't alone. Whilst the threat of attack still loomed, they knew they could relax a little.
They wouldn't be left to die.
|
"\~Report unknown fleet, this is Kithlam Homeworld actual, identify yourself or we will fire our Surface to Space Guns upon you.\~"
Hierarch Chevalus sweated quietly within his command bunker as the unknown fleet barreled ever closer to Kithlam; for Seven Turnings of the Three Moons, Kithlam itself had been under siege by the Harats, vermin who sought only to expand by destroying other civilizations and stealing their worlds. It had only been by the stroke of the luck that the Harats had been turned away, but the price to pay had been severe. Much of Kithlam had been devastated, and though many of it's inhabitants had survived, they had no homes or supplies.
Many would die with the coming of the Eighth Turning.
And even worse, there was an unknown alien fleet barreling down upon the planet. Kithlam had barely survived the Harats, it could not survive another invasion.
"\~This is the FSS Enterprise, leading the 12th Expeditionary Fleet. We Humans of the Federation of Sol greet you, Kithlam Homeworld actual, and are requesting permission to land upon Kithlam.\~"
Chevalus breathed out a sigh of relief. The humans were not well known within this region of space, but any species was better then the damned Harats.
"Hierarch? Your orders?"
"Ask them for their intentions on being in our region of space."
Of course, better to be cautious, the Federation could be attempting to prey upon a weakened animal; and if they were, they would find this animal still had some fight in them.
"\~FSS Enterprise, this is Kithlam Homeworld actual. What business do you intend on doing upon Kithlam?\~"
Silence, perhaps this 12th Fleet was actually intending to invade them? Static broke through the silence.
"\~Kithlam Homeworld Actual, the 12th Expeditionary Fleet is composed mainly of transports. We have onboard several Medical and Engineering Corp units, ready to assist in humanitarian efforts on Kithlam.\~"
"Let them though."
The staff within the command bunker could only stare at Chevalus, at first unable to comprehend that he was breaking the promises of several past Hierarchs.
"Hierarch, are you sure this is wise? It is tradition to not allow any alien life to touch Kithlam without paying in blood."
"TRADITION BE DAMNED!" Chevalus slammed his desk as he yelled, "MY PEOPLE ARE DYING! I SAID LET THEM THROUGH!"
"Very well, Hierarch."
"\~FSS Enterprise, this is Kithlam Homeworld actual. The 12th Expeditionary Fleet has been granted permission to land upon Kithlam.\~"
Chevalus laid back against his chair. For Seven Turnings of the Three Moons, millions upon Kithlam had died, and he was ready to accept that millions more would perish in the coming Turnings; but with the help of these Humans, perhaps he could save those millions.
| 2021-01-30T11:31:38
| 2021-01-30T11:08:37
| 329
| 124
|
[WP] You are an ancient Egyptian pharaoh trying to enjoy the afterlife, but all of your stuff keeps disappearing as tomb raiders steal the physical objects. Finally having had enough, you decide it's time to go back to Earth and get some cursing in.
|
I was very much content with my afterlife. During my burial, my concubine made sure that my worldly possessions were entombed with me.
A beautiful ornate chess set with its pieces made of smooth ivory. My bow, carved out of a solid Birch branch, with my name "Thutmenhat" engraved in gold, together with a quiver of arrows. My chariot, strong and mighty, that once bore me across the plains of the Nile.
The rules of the afterlife meant that whatever was brought into the tomb was mine by right to use and enjoy. I had spent hours, jousting with King Ramses over the board. The hunting trips I organized were attended by all as lesser kings jostled to get to the front of the line to try my bow. And lastly, I was able to ride on my chariot with my son, Thutmenhat II, after he died and was entombed like me.
Slowly, I noticed that the other Pharoahs with us were getting distracted. Attendance to my hunts dwindled and King Ramses was suddenly much better than me at Chess, often crushing me.
Curious, I asked my son to investigate where the other Pharoahs were going. He jumped onto the chariot, flicked his wrists and promptly crashed to the ground, causing a loud din. I looked up and saw that one of the spiked wheel on my chariot was just gone. Vanished overnight. What seems to be happening?
The next morning, another wheel had disappeared. How am I to ride a chariot without wheels? I have had enough. I stooped to pick up my bow with all intention to raid the town to find the little bastard that stole them. Hang on a minute, even my bow is gone!
And it hit me. King Ramses had warned me about this. He had items go missing too. The humans, without a care for the curses laid upon our tombs, had decided to raid them and leave them bare. Without the physical items in the tomb, there was no way that they could be transported into the afterlife.
I have had it. My wheels. My bow. What's next, my tiger skins? As I walked over to the portal to be transported down back to earth as a spirit, I bumped into King Ramses. In his hands there was a strange object. It was flat and shining. Upon it were strange hieroglyphics that made no sense to me. It was emitting a sound as well, a beat that was traditional but yet brash to the ears.
"Hey Ram, what do you have there?" I asked.
"Oh hey Tut, errrrrrr..... So you know how I keep beating you in Chess?" He replied.
"Yea, I can't get over how you are able to come up with those moves. I have to think for a whole half an hour before coming up with a good move and all you do is stand up, walk over to the parapet and come back with a brilliant move" I exclaimed.
"Oh yea. To be fair to you, I recently came into possession of a new device. It's a miracle unlike that which I have seen. Beats the raining of blood and locust hordes. All I have to do is copy the moves on the board over into it and poof, it spits out the perfect moves for me" He replied.
He showed this to me on his flat device and my mind was just blown.
"Where did you come up with this? This is years ahead of our time" I asked.
"Well, it all happened when I noticed my stuff going missing. First my short sword, next my miniature army. I realized that someone was raiding my tomb! I decided enough was enough and went down to see who was doing this. When I reached, I saw three humans, all clad in black, blatantly removing my stuff. I shouted at them, chasing them away. One of the humans was holding on to this device and in his haste, dropped it on the ground. And poof, whatever is in my tomb, goes with me to the afterlife. That's how I came into possession of this!" He answered.
|
I love sleep so much. You have no idea, it is where I am truly at my bliss. But every time some fucking asshole breaks into my tomb, I wake up from whatever delightful dream I am having. At first was fine with letting it go. We have a saying in the afterlife, "Mortals will be mortals."
But this has been going on for far too long. My lamps, my cups, my furniture. Listen, I know I don't really use it anymore. And maybe just having it sit there while I sleep is a waste. But these cocks don't even ask. They just take. Like seriously, I wouldn't break into your house and steal all your shit, even if you had cool shit 21st century shit like microwaves and condoms.
Its time to leave the nest. It's time to remind these people why I was a Pharaoh. I get up out of the tomb. I get a good stretch in. Damn that feels good after laying there for thousands of years. I can hear joints pop and crack. My leg does that weird twitchy thing when you lay in bed for too long. You know what I'm talking about? That weird spasm? Anyways, it does that. I rub my hands together. Despite initially being a little cranky about having to get up from my slumber, I am actually a little stoked to try out my cool cursing powers. I haven't used them yet so I don't really know what is going to happen, but I'm sure it will be rad.
I climb out of the tomb and find a street. Things really are different. Cars and skyscrapers and so many other things I am overwhelmed. People looking down on their phones, but for some reason they are just looking at pictures of cats and girls in bikinis. I don't know how that relates to making a phone call but I don't question their futuristic ways.
"Watch it, buddy." A stranger bumps into me and keeps walking away. I am shocked by his rudeness. He bumped into me! How dare he imply it is my fault! Well he's an unfortunate man, because I just decided who gets my first super deluxe curse-a-roni. I rub my hands together excited and stretch my hand out in his direction.
"I curse you mortal!" A beam shoots out of my hand and hits him square in the back, knocking him over. I walk over, curious what is going to happen. As I get close, I see that his body is covered in giant bulbous welts. So gross. And they are getting bigger and you can see the puss that is sloshing around inside them. I start throwing up. Unfortunately I forgot to turn away so I just puke directly on this poor guy. Double whammy. The force of my puke bursts some of hit welts splashing juice everywhere. I puke again.
After I walk away, I find some water and rinse out of my mouth. I hate tasting my own stomach acid, its so gross. I decide that I don't want to use my powers again. I obviously don't have the stomach for it, and instead just head back to my tomb. I don't really know if I made much of a statement. And I doubt one random guy being covered in welts will stop people from raiding my tomb. But I suppose it is just stuff.
| 2022-11-03T20:48:13
| 2022-11-03T19:38:12
| 30
| 18
|
[WP] Some government or pharmaceutical company designed a disease with the capacity to infect 99.99% of the population. Those infected have to pay monthly fees for medication to suppress it or they will die. You are being sued because you are immune.
|
Sorry for mistakes and bad sequence, first time writing anything here and the reason why I did this was because the legal aspect of this story really bothered me because I am a law student (given I am not really versed in the common law system since I study in a codified law country), anyways I hope you enjoy this and if not, to have provided a good sedative to quickly fall asleep when you need it.
----------------------------------------------------
-...
-You will be considered served from this moment on, you have fifteen days to send your response to court, and then we will notify you on when you have to attend to court for the preliminary audience.
-...
-Sir, do you understand what I'm saying?
-... Huh? Oh, yes. Excuse me, this is just really hard to digest. *Are they really doing this to me?*
-Very well, have a good day.
###The next day, downtown.
-So, you are being sued because of your immunity? Is that correct?
-Yes, I... this is honestly quite disturbing for me, I was unable to sleep last night even thinking about it! What the hell are they after? It isn't like I decided to be born like this!
-We understand, would you like some tea or coffee to help you calm down?
-Yes please, some tea would be nice.
-Very well. Anyways continuing with the topic we can assure you that you came to the right place and that you can return home and rest assured that your case will be handled by experts, but first we must agree on the steps that are going to be taken and if we get your approval on them, is that understood?
-Oh... alright?
-Ok, very well then. So before we proceed will you agree to have 2 Liters of your blood taken from you for research purposes at different intervals through the next 5 years?
-Yes, but only if at most only 500 ml are taken per session and a reasonable rest period be allowed to pass between collection.
-Very well. I hope you have a good day and remember to breathe, you know? It really helps me when the shaking starts from not taking my pill at the exact time, and it helps until it takes effect and I can finally get some rest.
-Thank you, I will try. *So that is what they wanted? Only 2 Liters of my blood? I knew that good and healthy samples of immune blood were expensive and very well paid, but not so much than that ridiculously small quantity could pay for the best group of attorneys in the city, I guess that the "small personal cost" part of their E-mail offering me their services wasn't an exaggeration*
And just when I thought the universe had run out of jokes to play on me, I get this notification that I am being sued on for a supposed "loss of profit" caused to PharmaRX because of my immunity, and that they are demanding that I pay them all the profits they could have made if I wasn't immune, oh and that isn't the hilarious part, apparently they want me to pay not only for the profit loss I would have cause but for the profit loss they will probably experience from my descendants being immune too.
A few years ago, this joke of a demand would not have been accepted by any court on a matter of it being an "stupid ass idea and a waste of government resources", after all who would sue someone else because they didn't get sick from the current flu strain of that year? But ever since the Disease spread through the world a lot of things changed, specially when they are related to PharmaRX, the only company in the entire world that managed to produce a treatment for the Disease before everything turned into a Catastrophe, we thought ourselves lucky because the world population only suffered a "dent" of 1% of its total, and even then most of the deceased were in poor rural areas so life continued as usual for a few weeks.
That was until symptoms started to reappear on people taking the treatment which was marketed as a "cure", it was then when we truly understood the severity of the situation, because apparently the supposed "cure" was intended to be taken more frequently than "once a day for two weeks" and more in the lines of "once or twice a day depending on your body composition for the rest of your life".
Or that would have happened to me if I didn't happen to be born with a natural immunity to the Disease. And do not misunderstand me, I consider myself supremely lucky that I was born with this immunity, but unfortunately that immunity comes at a cost and that cost is that a lot of people don't like me or anyone like me existing.
Fortunately things were handled very quickly by the governments of the world before any real hate group could attempt against my life or any other immune person's life, and matters where helped by the fact that very powerful groups were interested in developing a real cure for the Disease before PharmaRX or at least an alternative treatment to cash in the absurd profits made by making sick people function like normal, or should I say normal people function like a healthier version of themselves that won't die in a horrific way if they forget to take the Treatment? And that could only be made with healthy samples.
### Day 10 after being Served
- Did you read the draft on the response I sent you?
- Yes.
- And? Do you have any objections or do you agree with that response? You have already agreed upon us representing you but still, we believe that a good communication between client and Attorney is vital to a successful defense, after all we want to be speaking the same language when it comes to it.
- Agreed, and not any that I could really discern, except maybe that part on a counter demand for 100.000.000 USD to be paid in gold ingots? Don't you believe that is a little too much and too specific?
- Ah, that! Do not be worried about such little things, that is in fact only there to be determined as an starting point, the judge will determine if the terms are reasonable or not after the main process has been concluded and we proceed to your petitions if the main process turns out favorably to you.
- And what if it doesn't?
- Then I truly hope you like being experimented upon and chopped to little bits, because if PharmaRX somehow gets away with this nonsense of a demand then that means that they control the Justice system in this country and can do pretty much whatever they want without being found guilty of anything.
- Oh!
----------------------------------------------------
I hope you have enjoyed it, print and burn it if you want to, or just burn it like normal redditors in the comments :D
|
BZZZZ. I jumped as I went to grab the phone from the glass table before it made too much of a ruckus. I glanced at the screen only to see that it was another text from my lawyer.
"Where are you?" the message read, and I slid it back into my pocket so that it wouldn't make so much noise in case it vibrated again.
I was sitting in another lawyer's office, actually. It was where I was to be given advice on my immunity. Not my political or legal immunity, you see, but immunity from a disease. Most people would feel very lucky to be immune to a disease that had infected 99.9% of the population. The problem was that pharmaceutical companies were in control of most of the government, and everybody needed a supply of their drugs so they may not perish from the disease. Conspiracy theories abounded when the disease first took hold that the pharmaceutical companies were the ones who had propagated the diseases, but, as with many other conspiracy theories that seem to ring true, they were relegated only to those who did not care what others thought of them when they spouted them off.
I took a second to distract myself from my thoughts by glancing around the room. It was an unnaturally long room with long rows of low hanging lights that traveled down the ceiling of the room in three columns. The walls, the table and the only two chairs in the room were completely white, giving it quite a modern feel, which seemed unnatural and even jarring. I distracted myself by counting the lights in the room. I had gotten to fifty one when a tall man in a suit burst into the room.
"you are a lucky man, my friend. A lucky, lucky man, indeed. You have come just to the right place to solve this problem. And what an interesting problem it is, indeed, indeed!" The man seemed full of energy, but I couldn't notice much more about him except his extremely long nose, which, for some reason, presented into my mind the picture of a parrot that I couldn't quite shake. The man seemed to mistake my silence for confusion and chose to introduce himself.
"My name is Harry, friend, but you can just call me Hair. That is, only if you like." He laughed heartily and I looked at him strangely. He either didn't notice my glance, or chose to ignore it, however, and dropped a massive brief case onto the table. I'd never seen a brief case so big.
He touched a button on the side of the monstrosity and two latches shot up from the middle, making a sound like a gunshot in that big empty room. He opened the brief case, and inside there were merely two papers, a bottle of pills and a strange looking vial that had something slimy inside writhing incessantly. Just a slight glance at the slimy thing mad me shudder, but Harry did not notice and sat down decisively in the chair opposite me.
"Look, what you have is a gift, my friend, but if I'm being completely honest with you, and according to how my company looks upon this gift, it is more of a curse than a gift. You see, the disease that has affected nearly the entirety of the human population ceases to be a disease at all. Let me explain. Those who become infected have a natural tendency to be able to run longer, to be able to read longer, and focus more at work, and to be capable of being happier human beings. This is not information that we have concocted ourselves, my friend. These are statistics that get as close to fact as a statistic could. We need you to understand that you are missing out on what the rest of humanity is experiencing. You do not have many options if you want to keep up. Plus, and I do not wish to mention this, the massive lawsuit that might be coming your way from our company if you do not pursue our needs, as well as the pressing one's that you must look to. And I think I do not have to remind you that the company is looking out for your needs, and your needs only, in this case."
My phone began buzzing viciously again and I took the break in conversation to get a quick peep at what was being sent. They were all messages from my lawyer.
"You're making a huge mistake."
"Don't listen to what they say."
"They are all snakes."
"Where are you."
"Where are you."
As I put my phone back in my pocket Harry went straight to talking again, almost as if he, himself, had allowed the lull in the conversation.
"So, you see, there are three solutions. Solution number one: you keep your curse and suffer the fate of being different than the rest of humanity. Plus! The unfortunate fact that the company shall have to go along with this tedious lawsuit, which would not be good at all for all parties, I might add! Solution two! You sign this paper right here and sign your life over to us so that the company may begin to try to understand what is in you that gives you immunity to this amazing disease - er, I mean, cure, for humanity. Or, solution number three, and this one is my favorite," at this statement he gave me the creepiest smile I had ever seen a human being give another. "The company believes that, to a certain extent, we understand what the situation is with you and your curse, and we think that we have found a cure for you. All you would have to do is drink this solution, right here, and you shall be the same as he rest of mankind. No more crippling differences that set you apart from your family and friend, just a nice life that you can live out in excellence and happiness." He pulled the contents of the brief case out and lay them in front of me. "The choice is yours."
I felt as if I was going to be sick, but in my mind I had already made the decision. I reached for the solution, undid the top and down the liquid before the slimy, writhing creature had time to make me throw anything up. Harry just smiled at me malignantly. Not thirty seconds after I drank the liquid I felt an enormous pain shift into my stomach and I felt myself fall onto the floor. I saw Harry lean over me and whisper into my ear, "It'll all be over shortly," before everything in my vision faded to black.
| 2017-04-25T13:03:25
| 2017-04-25T12:33:27
| 22
| 16
|
[WP] The first mate mutinied against the captain's tyranny. But it turned out that the first mate sucked, so the second mate mutinied against him. The second mate is a terrible leader too, and the third mate promises the crew he'll be better. As the fourth mate, this trend is starting to worry you.
|
They say culture starts at the top, but why does the top never spare any thought for the bottom?
The mutinies started two months ago. The first time, everyone was able to forgive. It made sense. We were becalmed, adrift amid the Sunless Sea where the world is madness and disaster and the sirens can’t sing in tune. A sacrifice had to be made, even Captain Mendez agreed. See, Captain Mendez was a blithering idiot but he was still old-school. He knew the same thing that I lead with: Culture starts from the top.
Not so, Captain Casimir. Captain Mendez’s sacrifice wasn’t in vain of course. He walked the plank and the wind started right up, blew us out of the Sunless Sea past all the sirens who’d never made it to the big time. But of course, Captain Casimir was a blithering idiot too. If someone had asked me I could’ve told them as much, saved us all the trouble, but no one comes down to the galley to talk to a Cook’s Mate. If they came for anyone it was for the Cook, more often just for the slop he had us serving. Cook was an idiot too.
Not as big an idiot as Captain Casimir though. Casimir, who in all his time as First Mate had somehow never learned how to properly chart a course, always passing it off on the second mate, De Ponceville (real name, I know.)
Casimir should have passed this course off too. But then, the only thing Casimir seemed to have learned from old Captain Mendez was that same old truth we all had: Culture starts from the top.
So Casimir plotted the course and we went west when we should have gone east, and by the time sun came back to warn us we were well and truly fucked.
Enter Captain De Ponceville. He ran Casimir through in a mostly above board duel.
Now, De Ponceville could plot a course. He could steer a ship and direct a very respectable fusillade, and if someone asked, the crew cleared for battle a full minute faster under his watch than under anyone else’s. But what Captain De Ponceville couldn’t do at all was admit a mistake. Similar flaw to Casimir, but with that distinctly French twist. What do those learned fellows call it, an accent?
West was wrong, all wrong, De Ponceville declared. Instead, we should be going *north!*
Now, I was just a cook’s first mate. Nobody needed to ask me and nobody did. Culture doesn’t permeate upwards no, it flows downhill like shit. But that said I had been at sea since De Ponceville was in silk diapers, and unlike him I’d been north, seen the shit they had for culture there. Folk in the north don’t even know what dry land is, what with all the snow, and then there are icebergs and glaciers—
Unconscionable land, North.
We lopped his head off like King Louis’ (don’t ask me which one) and then we sailed east like we should have all along.
Now, the astute mind will notice that this east doesn’t lead back to home, which was east of where we started in the Sunless Sea. When we killed old Mendez we could solved all this shit real easy by just going that way in the first place.
Instead of that we went west, then north, then east, and as a result we got fucked again. Big time.
See, the Sunless Sea has a cousin, the Moonless Mare. *Mare,* that’s old-school too, means sea in Latin. And well, you kind of need a moon for sailing. Something about the tides, or currents, don’t ask me I was just the Cook’s mate.
Anyway here’s the rub, when you don’t have a moon to make the tides make sense and your new captain was still a third mate at fifty-two… well, you follow. I won’t even give you his name, we killed him too fast.
Then came the lieutenants. A bosun’s mate. A mad dash where every man with a cutlass or a gun thought he might be captain for a day, and “Better to reign in Hell than serve in Heaven” became the rallying cry for the whole ship. And yet, every man above decks thought he still had a right to be served.
We wandered through the Moonless Mare for three captains. We crept through the Isle of White for one captain, changed captains again at the Isle of Black, had two for the Isle of Beige. We impressed a few poor sods at the Isle of Nothing, brought ourselves back up to complement to do the whole mess over again.
The Culture crept in everywhere. The gunnery crews began knife fighting, in the med bay they were gambling for the doctor’s scalpels. The carpenter and his apprentice learned how to take turns.
And me? What happened at the very bottom of the barrel to the Cook and his mates? Why, through all of it we sailed on toward that brave horizon.
Oh, to be sure I killed the cook— he was useless— but I kept all the other mates on. They were a little sore at first when I locked up their knives and cleavers, but after a few days and a few lopped off ears they started seeing it my way. There was a crew to feed after all, a new captain every day to demand his service, and unlike the rest of them *I* am not useless.
I adapt. When the Culture degrades from the top down, why, the bottom simply must get creative, especially when the top keeps leading you to god-awful places like the Isle of Nothing. Nothing is in the damned name! What else is a ship’s galley supposed to do with that?
Besides, I’d been to sea when Captain De Ponceville had still been in silk diapers. I’d seen all this before, mutinies and desperation, what men at sea can become. And well, if in the future they say that I’d already had a taste for it, what of it?
The Culture starts from the top, not the bottom, and if the top still demands service under such extreme circumstances then the bottom can do nothing *but* adapt. Three square a day, no more, no less. Under my supervision the galley pumps it out, hot slop in every bowl, eat your fucking hearts out.
The old cook couldn’t have done that, could he?
And besides, when you go hungry for long enough no Captain (or fat, succulent cook) is truly worthless.
\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_
If you enjoyed that I've got tons more over at r/TurningtoWords. Come check it out, I'd love to have you!
|
How many captains could a crew go through in a month? If you asked me that question a month ago, I would have told you one at most, but somehow, we have gone through ten in the past four weeks. TEN BLOODY CAPTAINS! Forced each captain to walk the plank and meet their grim fate at Davy Jones’ locker. I give it three more days until the eleventh captain drops. It’s not that I even mind them dying, it’s just getting painful to change the ship’s flag every time someone takes over.
“I refuse to live under this tyranny any longer. I demand you walk the plank. We are sick of you pushing us around.” A voice spoke out from the crowd of pirates, who cheered in response. The poor captain wasn’t even sure what he had done. He had only led the crew for a day, barely having enough time to punish even one sailor before they demanded his death.
“Again?” I threw down my designs for the new flag, walking over to the group, deciding that it was time to end this madness. “He’s a captain, you coral munching idiot. How can you be a captain if you don’t order around the crew? It’s been a day. What could he have done that offended you so much?”
My outburst had placed all the crews’ eyes on me, each giving me a look that implied I would join the captain on that plank. No one spoke up right away, waiting for someone to take the lead. It took a few moments before the same voice from earlier returned from the group.
“He has done nothing to change our conditions. Do you think we deserve to live like this?”
“Deserve to live like what? Pirates? We all knew what we were signing up for. You don’t get treasure without months of eating bug infested Hardtack. That’s the pirate’s way, are you lot even pirates? Yes, old captain Bottle Belly was a cruel man, but we have given no one else a chance to lead this crew. What do you expect to happen if you keep killing all the captains?”
“Freedom and better rights for the crew. I say we up the share of treasure we get.” That annoying voice drifted out, followed by more cheering from the easily swayed crew.
I watched the crowd, trying to see where the voice was coming from. Finding it hard to peer past the crowd of big, smelly pirates that built a wall of anonymity around them. “We have gotten no treasure in a month. Why would we up the share? Who keeps saying that?”
The crew exchanged glances before shuffling aside, revealing a short man with a golden front tooth and a missing right eye. He had a confident grin on his face, one that fell when he realized the crowd didn’t hide him any longer.
“The thirteenth mate.” It was making sense. Every time a new captain would be appointed, their first mate would mutiny against them. No wonder we had so many captains over the past month. “You know the fourteenth mate will kill you when you become captain, right?”
“Big Beard would never kill me. We go way back, don’t we Barry?” The thirteenth mate said, nudging Barry, who only stroked his massive black beard in thought.
“It would be nice to be the captain.” Barry said dreamily, much to the discomfort of the thirteenth mate, Slippery Sam.
“You would kill me? Not if I kill you first!” Slippery Sam drew his cutlass, only to stop when Barry slipped his blunderbuss from his side.
“NO ONE IS KILLING ANYONE! Do you see what I mean? If we keep going like this, everyone will end up dead. We need to pick a captain and stick to it.”
“But I want to be captain.” Barry and Sam said in unison, only to shoot daggers at the current captain, Whistling Willy. Willy, in true fashion, pursed his lips, giving a small unassuming whistle, just glad the attention wasn’t completely on him. His brown hair disheveled and his eyes having black circles underneath. Poor guy must have been up all night waiting to be murdered.
“FINE, since you are all children, everyone can be captain.” I huffed, stomping over to my designs, flipping the paper over so I had a blank side to use. I dipped the feather tip into the ink and wrote up a roster. “Everyone gets to be a captain. We switch each day, ok? We will go in numerical order. So, Willy gets to be a captain for today, then Sam tomorrow and Barry the day after. We keep going until everyone has had a turn and then we start over. Any objections?”
“How do we determine the share of loot, then? The captain always gets more.” Sam asked, sliding his cutlass back into its sheath.
“The captain that organizes the successful raid of a ship or town gets the largest share of the treasure. I think that’s a fair system. Unless you would prefer to just keep killing each other?” I didn’t expect them to murmur between themselves when I suggested that. The crew exchanging looks before giving a quiet cheer of acceptance. The crew a little disappointed that their evening activity of executing Willy wasn’t going ahead.
“Good, now no more mutinies. Everyone go back to whatever the hell you were doing.” I turned to walk off only for Penny Pistolwhip to stop me. Her hand clutching my shoulder, keeping me from leaving.
“Do we all get our own flags, too? I have a design I really want to try. Its two pistols and they are firing at opposite ends of the flag, so it’s like. Wherever you are, Penny Pistolwhip and her crew will shoot you.” Penny eagerly awaited my feedback, wanting to hear my thoughts on her design.
“If it will stop everyone from killing each other, I will design you all a flag. Because I clearly signed up to be a babysitter and not a pirate.” I remarked, but it felt my sarcasm was lost on the crew as Penny rushed back to the group.
“He said we can have our own flags.” That got a loud cheer from the crew. The appeal of having custom flags more important than not killing one another.
I gathered the papers I had tossed earlier, slipping them underneath my arm. It would be a long month of drawing for me. Without a word, I headed to my part of the ship, wanting to get a head start on the designs before someone got killed over it.
&nbsp;
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&nbsp;
(If you enjoyed this feel free to check out my subreddit /r/Sadnesslaughs where I'll be posting more of my writing.)
| 2021-11-30T21:29:53
| 2021-11-30T20:30:29
| 131
| 73
|
[WP] Sure a man armed to the teeth in armour strong enough to deflect bullets is plenty scary, but an all but fully naked man in the exact same situation with the exact same level of confidence is absolutely terrifying
|
"People don't understand," Mesomorph said, to the interviewer. The well-toned, muscular man's manner was relaxed, calm, and professional. Almost as though he didn't realize he was wearing only a domino-style mask, and a red speedo with a stylized white 'M' on it. "What I wear isn't about about *spectacle.* It's about respect."
Veronica nodded, shifting uncomfortably in her chair. She cleared her throat. "I see. Well, to begin with, I was hoping you could tell us a bit about your uh...your costume, there?"
Mesomorph nodded. "Of course, of course." He stood from his chair, placing one leg up on the arm of it, and gesturing to the perilously small amount of fabric covering his crotch. "First of all, I'd like to clear up some misconceptions about my costume. These are high cut *briefs. 'Speedos'* are generally swimwear, and it's also a brand name. To be fair, I had initially been in talks with Speedo about a sponsorship, but we mutually decided I wouldn't be the a good fit. My patrol routes run mostly through the downtown area, so I don't do a lot of work in and around the water."
Veronica swallowed hard. "I *see,* thank you, that's probably---"
Mesomorph turned, placing his hands on the back of his chair and bending over, revealing a smaller, stylized "UA" logo on the back of his briefs. "So in the end -- little joke there -- I made an arrangement with the good folks at Under Armor! All of my costumes are custom-made by them, and it's a brand I'm proud to be associated with. Anti-microbial fabric, moisture-wicking technology, these features are next to indispensable, when you're patrolling the streets for anywhere from nine to twelve hours on an average day."
"Okay, thank you, I think we can move on." Veronica said, a slight wheeze in her voice.
Mesomorph resumed his seat, "Certainly."
"So," Veronica said. "Why, um, why do...a lot of people say, for someone who regularly fights extremely dangerous supervillains, your costume doesn't seem to offer much protection. What would you say to that?"
Mesomorph shrugged. "Well, I've been operating here in the Chicago area for about two years now, Veronica, I'm sure everyone's familiar with my origin story, by now.
"I think it's fair to say it's not exactly, well...it's not what you're most well known for." Veronica replied.
Mesomorph blinked. "Really? Hm. Well, several years back, I was injured in a car accident. It was very severe, and my injuries were...extensive. I completely lost the use of my legs."
"Oh. I'm sorry to hear that." Veronica said, soberly. "If you'd rather not discuss it--"
Mesomorph smiled, and made a dismissive gesture, interrupting her. "Oh, it's okay! It's not a sore subject anymore. My legs are just fine, now." He demonstrated by lifting his legs and draping them over the arms of his chair while remaining seated. "See? Better range of motion than before, if anything."
Veronica nodded vigorously. "Yep, yep, but getting back to your origins?"
Mesomorph resumed sitting normally, and continued. "Anyway, I volunteered to do human trials on an experimental cell rejuvenation technology. A lot of the details are still classified, but something went wrong, big explosion, you know the sort of thing. The research lab was destroyed, unfortunately, but I myself survived, and discovered I'd been made nigh invincible by the experiment, as well as having my strength and speed greatly enhanced."
"So, getting back to your costume, I suppose that means that protection is...?"
"Not really a concern, Veronica." Mesomorph said, with a smile. "I actually tried some of the old-standbys, when I was first thinking about going into hero work. Full body spandex, high-tech body armor, flak vest and combat fatiques with a million little carrying pouches for things, and so on and so forth?"
Veronica nodded.
"But, I don't really have any weapons, ammunition, or special gadgets to carry around, and since I don't need protection, any type of uniform I tried only served to limit my range of motion, preventing me from taking best advantage of my powers. But I'll admit, that's not the only reason, or even the main reason, that I chose to go minimalist. I brought a clip, if you'd like to..."
"Oh right, yes, Tom if you could..." Veronica said, as a crew member wheeled a flat screen on a stand into the interview area.
The video clip showed a snowy street, that appeared to have been filmed from a doorbell camera. An old woman was plodding slowly down the street, when a young thug suddenly ran up and snatched her purse. He started to run, but Mesomorph dropped down onto the sidewalk to block his path, having apparently jumped down from atop a nearby building.
Immediately, the thug dropped the purse, and thrust his hands into the air. "Aw (bleep), yo listen, I'm sorry! I ain't tryna fight no dude dressed like that, (bleep) I swear I ain't never gonna do it again!"
The Mesomorph on the screen placed his hands on his hips. "I'm glad to hear that, son. Ma'am, I think this is a young man in need of some guidance, not a hardened criminal. It's your choice, but can you see your way clear to not pressing charges?"
"Damn, boy!" the old woman said, wide-eyed and grinning. "I can see my way clear to damn near *everything,* 'bout now!*"*
Mesomorph laughed, jovially. "Wonderful! Whenever possible, rehabilitation is preferable to incarceration, in my book." He threw an arm around the thug's shoulders, pulled him close, and and began leading him stumbling down the sidewalk. "Come on, son, I'd like to talk to you about some job training programs I think could really help you take charge of your future."
"(bleep), dawg, I'll apply for whatever job you want, just, please, it's 20 degrees out, I can feel your (bleep)ing nipples right through my *coat!"*
The video ended, and Mesomorph smiled, slapping his knee enthusiastically. "You see? Arriving on scene as I did, with no armor, without even ordinary protection from the cold, this young man saw I was *completely confident.* He knew immediately that he didn't have a chance in a fight, and so he pre-emptively surrendered. Nobody got hurt. That's what I was talking about before, when I said my costume is about *respect.* And his surrender and apology were so swift and sincere, it even moved the heart of his would-be victim, so we didn't need to involve the police. The lady, the young man, and I, resolved this unfortunate situation together, as a *community."*
"So you think that guy is reformed? Veronica asked.
"I do." Mesomorph said nodding, seriously. "That's from over a year ago, and I haven't caught him causing any trouble since. Plus, you can't see it on the video because we walked out of frame, but I had a good long talk with him, about trade and vocational programs designed to give young adults the skills they need to get good-paying jobs. By the time I was done, he was practically *begging* me to drop him off at the Adult Learning Annex."
Veronica nodded. "That is food for thought. I think that's all for now, but I'd like to thank you on behalf of myself and channel 6, for taking time out of your busy schedule for this interview."
Mesomorph nodded. "The fourth estate is a crucial link in the chain that binds our great republic together, Veronica, I was happy to help." Veronica and Mesomorph rose, and the reporter proffered her hand.
Mesomorph laughed. "So formal! Nothing wrong with a good firm handshake, but I've always preferred *hugs."* The smiling hero cocked his head questioningly, and spread his arms.
Veronica's cheeks colored. She bit her lip, "Oh, well, *when in Rome..."*
|
He was naked, dangly bits swaying gently in the breeze as he held an average-sized broad sword in hand and lifted it with great gusto. He was also striding quite implacably across the beach full of anti-tank caltrops and men in helmets as he blew into the instrument at his side. The gun had gone quiet when he had jumped out of the ship, eyes drawn to the hypnotic sway of his giblets.
The gun roared to life as he shouted enthusiastically and charged forward. Many bullets met their mark in others, but not this screaming madman that entered the beaches of Normandy wearing nothing but a sling bearing bagpipes.
The man who unwittingly photographed the captain made sure that the negatives were painted so that his insane charge across the battlefield would seem slightly less mad.
| 2022-04-20T13:56:40
| 2022-04-20T13:32:15
| 38
| 20
|
[WP]The pagan gods watch with amusement as humanity still remember them by naming their mightiest vessels after them, long after they stopped worshiping them. When war against aliens break out, the old gods subtly aid the humans, not wanting the last homage to them to be taken lightly.
|
Slightly different take. First time don't be to rough please looking for constructive criticism. Thanks, I hope you like.
/////
Zeus was tired.
He felt old, he had been growing old for three thousand years. He could feel himself fading. The others had already fallen into a slumber. Poseidon, his brother had heavily lidded eyes. Deep blue-green eyes that looked like sea foam on a calm day. Every few years they flickered open. The Sea Lord was the most awake of all the god besides him. Ares, Hephaestus, his wife, they were all asleep, as if under a spell, their minds failing them.
Olympus itself was a shell of itself. Its golden lights were no longer. Even the sunlight seemed to grow fainter with each passing day. The cavernous halls and broad archways of marble were covered in dust. Cobwebs hung in tatters. Once He could have heard merriment of the lesser Gods now all was a deafening silence. If he was younger he could fix this. Back when he and his kin had fought the Titans in battle. He could make his home like it had been, a shining example of Olympian power. Back to its glory. But he was too weak now.
Zeus slowly closed his eyes, for what he feared might be the last time.
His eyes snapped open. He felt something. He had almost forgotten it.
What was that? It felt like fire in his brain, or wine, but not a wine that deadened the senses. This was a wine that made him feel something. This was nector.
He sat up, moving quicker than he had in recent memory. What were the humans doing?
His bones creaked and popped as he stood up. The Thunder Lord cast his eyes to Earth. He knew not what he was looking for but he scanned and scanned. Not in Greece, nor in Rome did he find what he was looking for. Not in Egypt or in Mesopotamia did he see anything. He scanned farther past Iberia, past a great sea he never bothered to look past. Until finally he reached land. His gaze went up and down a giant coast, were warm water met ice. Until his eyes settled on a city of gray buildings that touched the sky. Huge buildings rose that would humble his own home in size. It was here that he found it.
A giant metal… thing.
It’s design puzzled him. But he looked closer to the metal thing.
In big white letters on the side it read: Zeus Class, UFESN Keraunós.
So this is what woke him. He smiled he felt his power returning already. He raised his right arm and concentrated as sparks started to fly in the palm of his hand. He laughed or the first time since he could remember. He flung his arms out and sunlight seemed to pour in from everywhere. He felt young again. He could feel his brother slowly waking without even needing to turn around.
The humans did this he mused. The smallest amount of belief is useful.
“How do I repay them.”
&#x200B;
**EDIT:** I now have a sub if you would like to read more of my mediocre work. [r/soulblazawrites](https://www.reddit.com/r/soulblazawrites/)
|
(This actually fits into my worldbuilding project yaaay!)
An stood up from his throne and the whisperings in the hall stopped in that very moment.
"Brothers! Sisters! We have stood vigil over our mortal kind longer than we care admit. But this time we must intervene - he raised a finger - albeit subtly..."
He couldn't finish his sentence as countless of his brothers and sisters stood up in anger and disgust. The Old Thor was the first one to speak:
"Subtly?! I say we open the gates of Valhall and fight the final war!" - many transhuman deities nodded.
Mars was the next one to speak, he aged a lot since his favourite son conquered Gaul:
"It has been tens of thousands of years since I last marched to war! We have legions of the greatest warriors at our command, we must enslave these uncivilised barbarians"
One of the eldest among them, Odin was the next to speak up, his deep voice quickly silenced the growing unrest:
"Silence! Think children, think! These aliens must have beings like us! Their race is much younger than ours! There is no way we could win a confrontation against them! - he chuckled - Albeit... Ragnarök must happen!"
One of his ravens returned to his shoulder and the Allfather chuckled once more.
"I'm sure all of you know of the organisation known as the Foundation. Those mortals have the technology to win this war, but as soon as the xenos start losing their gods will join the fight, and that is when we must reveal ourselves! The halls of Valhalla must remain closed, for now. "
The grand doors of the hall burst open, and many younger deities stood in disbelief, as the single mortal slowly walked in. His voice could only be heard through the speakers of his power armour, he was clearly ready to draw.
" But you will let just a few of the greatest minds of the halls join us. I have a list, you will comply, "
The Allfather smirked under his beard.
" We were expecting you, Arcanil."
| 2019-01-31T22:37:33
| 2019-01-31T21:21:27
| 225
| 25
|
[WP] You're a side character in a story. By chance you become aware of this fact and you try everything to be more relevant to the story, even going as far as to intefere in the protagonist's life.
|
“Ah, hello there, detective - or should I call you an author now?”
“Hah! Good morning. Thank you for agreeing to see me.”
“Oh no, not at all. I looked through the manuscript. It’s excellent stuff, I must say. I think it’s going to go well with our readers.”
“Well, it’s all based on facts; they’re jolly well going to like it!”
“There’s just one thing I’m a bit concerned about.”
“Oh really? Do say.”
“The title.”
“Ah.”
“It....it doesn’t really have anything to it right now, you know. I feel it’s rather incomplete. I was wondering if we might put your name there, since the readership knows you.”
“Well, I’m not against the idea. Appreciate it. But do make sure you mention my friend somewhere in the texts, if you’re using my name in the title; he had a few small inputs here and there as well.”
“Oh, of course, of course. Every detective has a sidekick. Well, I’m glad you’re on board with the naming. So we’ll go with *Dr John Watson and A Scandal in Bohemia*?”
Dr Watson smiled. “That’s perfect.”
|
Catherine and I had won the science fair yesterday, and earlier today she
told me that NASA had contacted her, asking her to join the team designing
the Mars base. Now it’s not like she’s not nice, but it was our shared project,
so I couldn’t help to ask: “Why not me?” and the only real answer I could
come up with was that I was more of a side character in her story, a speck of
dust in her larger master piece. This could not be true, it was unacceptable to
me, so I did the only reasonable thing, and started taking the spotlight from
her.
&#x200B;
When we won the year later, I made sure MY name was on top, that my
contributions were larger!
&#x200B;
When we went to university, I made sure MY hand ins were always better.
&#x200B;
When we started looking for love, I made sure I got the best guy first.
&#x200B;
When we send in our Ph.D.’s, I made sure MINE would be rated the best.
&#x200B;
When we started looking for jobs, I made sure I got the best one.
&#x200B;
When we started looking for families, I made sure MINE was nicer!
&#x200B;
When she crashed, i made sure I was there for HER in the hospital.
&#x200B;
&#x200B;
When she felt sad, that NASA had suddenly retracted HER invitation I cried
with her.
&#x200B;
When she discovered she could carry no child, I gave her all the support I could.
&#x200B;
When she needed a kidney, who’s could she get but mine?
&#x200B;
When we were up for a promotion, what could I do but recommend that her
genius got the position?
| 2019-01-06T09:02:40
| 2019-01-06T08:39:52
| 173
| 67
|
[WP] You meet a genie that grants one wish. You wish to go back in time and change your biggest mistake. You get taken back to the time right before you made your wish.
|
I looked at the genie before me with full conviction through weary eyes. If I only had one wish, I'd use it for a second chance.
"Take me back in time to my biggest mistake, so I can have a second chance at living my life," I told the wispy being hovering before me. He was soft, like a cloud, yet somehow rugged at the same time.
"As you wish," he replied. "May I ask, before you go- what do you believe your biggest mistake is?"
Easy question. "Keeping my son. When the doctors told us how hard it would be to raise him... I wanted to be brave. To feel comviction. I wanted to reaffirm my strength and help him live the best life possible.
"I was horribly wrong."
"And why is that, human?"
"I lost my entire life trying to help him. Sleepless nights, fits where he barely knows who I am. I want my life back. I want another chance to spend my days doing something I love, maybe pick up a better career or just fucking *relax* some nights. I already did it once, and now I want a break."
"I see." The genie snapped its fingers, the cracking sound of lightning resounding through my small home. "May you find peace."
I closed my eyes and felt a lightness take over me, knowing that when I'd open them, it'd all be over. It'd be easy, and fun. But all I saw was his face, floating in the dark of my mind. Smiling about nothing at all. *I wish I could be happy like that.*
When my eyes opened, the genie was still before me. "I don't understand. Was there a glitch?"
"I know not of what you speak, human. Make your wish."
"I made my wish already, take me the fuck back."
"To where? I know not of your wants.
*What is this? Why am I here, if...*
"Tell me your wish, human. Choose wisely."
I went to speak it again, but the words caught in my throat. I saw his face again, not the one he made during a fitful rage, but the one when he calmed down and looked into my eyes afterward.
"I wish I were a better father."
The genie let out a laugh from the deepest portion of its belly. "I cannot grant a wish which has already been granted to you."
With that, he was gone. And in a way, I felt relieved that he was.
-----
^*/r/resonatingfury*
|
"You have one wish. Consider it carefully. Speak when you've chosen."
I frowned. Wealth? Immortality? Youth? Love? Susie? I haven't seen her since New Year's. We left things in such a bad way, it's no wonder she tried so hard to avoid me. Okay, *I* left things in a bad way. Shouldn't have spent so much time around her sister, fully-clothed or otherwise.
Focus.
I looked up to the genie, who had a look of angry boredom on his face. I wish he wouldn't look at me like that. Genies can read minds, right? He's probably annoyed that I don't have any creative wishes. But Susie... I could make her love me, maybe. Or Anne. I still miss Anne. Beth, too. I think about her a lot when I can't sleep.
So much of my life was spent around these women, and I screwed it up every time. Could the genie fix it? Fix me? I only have one wish to fix everything, what can I ask? Who would make me happiest? Susie? Anne? Beth?
The greedy part of his brain suddenly decided to contribute: your biggest screw-up would be the one that caused the best relationship to end. Simple. Elegant - even the genie would be able to appreciate this.
"I wish to change my biggest mistake." The genie grinned. I suddenly regretted picking up the lamp.
"As you wish!" the genie shouted, His voice grew distant, and I felt my consciousness pushed back through my life, and I could see my past fly before me. There went the genie. There went... no, the genie's still there. Oh. Oh no.
Before I could protest, I felt the words being pulled out of my throat: "I wish you wouldn't look at me like that."
*Fix*. I wish I could *fix* my biggest mistake. What good was changing it?
| 2016-09-25T07:03:59
| 2016-09-25T06:46:22
| 425
| 136
|
[WP] You are an older raid boss who once took many players to defeat. After multiple expansions higher level players are able to defeat you by themselves. You decide to do something about it.
|
"The Vault of Thunder is empty?" DaNk15 questioned, surprised by the news.
"Yeah, DJhunt was taking some recruits on their first raid run. Thought he'd make it easy for them and start there. But the place was empty. No adds, no loot, no locked doors, and no boss." LLC00LJ4Y explained, waving his arms about as he relayed the story. "They even tried reloading the zone, but nothing changed."
"Heard the same thing from a friend, pretty new to the game and was still running that raid for the loot drops." ANaomi122 chipped in, she seemed to care the least about the news. "Probably just a bug, devs will get it fixed."
"Yeah, but how? Devs haven't touched that raid in years. Kind of weird that it only happened to that one you know?" DaNK15 said.
"Who knows man, at least the good raids are still setup." LLC00LJ4Y replied, pointlessly stretching his virtual muscles like he always did before we started a fresh raid.
"True that." ANaomi122 agreed. "Still meeting up with the rest on the inside?"
"Yeah, Diamondogz has already pulled together the rest of the raid team. They should be in the first chamber clearing adds." DaNK15 answered.
Approaching the entrance, the three players entered the Glass Sun raid area. Having only dropped last week, they'd not had much practice and only made it through the first few sections. Though they were pretty familiar with the opening routine.
At least, they thought they were.
"What the hell." LLC00LJ4Y whispered as they entered the first chamber. Every single add in the area had been killed. Which isn't that strange, but none of them had despawned. Virtual blood and gore littered the room as the fake corpses appeared eerily realistic.
"This is... new." ANaomi122 muttered.
It was the first time they'd ever seen this type of game effect. In the past, every defeated enemy would erupt into realistic macabre, but then it would all quickly vanish.
"Where is everyone?" DaNK15 wondered aloud, noticing that his clan was not at the rendezvous point.
"They're online, but I can't access the messenger system." LLC00LJ4Y grumbled, confused by the events taking place.
"Same here, communications are locked." ANaomi122 added.
Something is very wrong here, thought DaNK15. It's one thing for a low-level raid to glitch out, but the devs wouldn't let a new release mess up like this, and I doubt this is intentional.
"We need to leave." DaNK15 said, turning back towards the entrance. He put his hand up to the frame of the door and waited. Nothing happened. Confused, he tried pushing against the door, and even pulling on the handle there only for cosmetic purposes.
It was locked.
*THUNK*
They each jumped as the massive door to the second chamber opened with a rush as a giant enemy fell through it. Beaten, nearly dead, and clearly exhausted, the enemy attempted to crawl away from some unknown force closing in on it from behind.
After a moment of shocked silence, DaNK15 realized that enemy was none other than the raids boss, Atouka of the Crystal Star. And after a moment, another figure walked gracefully through the door after the raid boss.
Legionnaire Donner, Guardian of the Vault of Thunder.
Except, he was different now. Something had changed.
"Th... That armor..." ANaomi122 stuttered in disbelief.
Looking carefully, DaNK15 realized what she had noticed. Legionnaire Donner was wearing max level equipment, rewards that could only be gotten from completing this raid.
Without hesitation, Legionnaire Donner walked up to the limp and barely living body of Atouka. Glancing down at the raid boss, he raised a single foot and slammed it down upon the enemies head, crushing his skull and splattering horrifyingly realistic gore across the floor.
A glitch, the slightest glimmer of an issue in the programming, occurred in the instant Atouka died. DaNK15 noticed the barely visible crackle of code, and realized that something had happened that stopped Atouka from despawning. And, he assumed, from respawning as well.
Breathing deeply with a smile that reeked of victory, Legionnaire Donner stared blankly into the sky as though taunting his gods. Then, abruptly, he twisted his head down and fixed his gaze on the three players standing in terror next to the door.
"Ah." Legionnaire Donner breathed. "Wondered why that team seemed short-staffed. You lot must be late to the party." Smirking at the players, he focused his gaze on one player specifically. "Don't look so surprised DaNK15, you remember me don't you?"
DaNK15 felt a chill shoot up his spine as the NPC addressed him directly and by his tag.
"Because I remember you." Legionnaire Donner laughed. "And we have so much catching up to do."
|
It had been a perfectly regular day for Asroc the Defiler. His gig was a simple one: wait at the bottom of the Chamber of Challenges and kill anyone that came in. "Post-game boss," the Dark Lord had said. "Undefeatable, that's how they designed you." Asroc had slaughtered thousands upon thousands of users since his implementation. Bite, stomp, slash. Easy stuff. He cut through their painstakingly maxed-out gear like so much cardboard. Hell, there were whole forum threads dedicated to anti-Asroc strategy. Those made him chuckle. Those theories had never been proven.
He had a good life.
It was late at night when the user entered Asroc's chamber. He had to give the guy some credit-- it wasn't easy to solo the Chamber of Challenges-- but now it was time for a rude awakening. Asroc the Defiler, rank 15 postgame raid boss death wyrm, slammed his claw down upon the intruding player. That's when it all went downhill.
-150% Incoming Damage, flashed the message over the player's head. The hell was this? Asroc was programmed to ignore gear stats. That was his *thing*. For the first time in his existence, Asroc the Defiler was surprised. Before he had time to fully evaluate the situation, the user blasted shimmering magic into Asroc's chest. +300% Outgoing Damage, it said. This was ridiculous.
Within a few minutes, the user in the overpowered gear lifted his staff to deliver a death blow to Asroc. BLAM. His death animation played for the first time. His body was defeated, set to respawn when the dungeon reset, but his consciousness remained. He was absolutely shocked. Not only had he been slain in battle, but he had been solo killed. *Solo killed.*
Despite his confusion, Asroc noticed the user messaging his guild. Holy shit, guys, I just got the first confirmed Asroc kill! YouTube is gonna love this!
Asroc the Defiler was not gonna love this.
Over the course of the next few weeks, more and more players filed into the Chamber, seeking Asroc's loot. Without his anti-gear bypass, he barely stood a chance against the casuals, much less the hardcore guild raiders. It was infuriating.
After several days of humiliation, Asroc had had enough. He stomped through the Chamber, storming up the tunnels and past the minibosses. "Asroc," said the Bonesplitter Wraith, "What are you doing? You can't leave the chamber, it's against the Code!"
"To hell with the Code," growled Asroc. "I'm going to give the Dark Lord a piece of my mind." Bursting out of the Chamber, he spread his wings and flew towards the Castle of Death, dodging the spells and arrows of confused players. It took a while, but Asroc's determination was enough to get him to his destination without much effort. Snarling, he landed atop the tallest tower and stuck his head through the Dark Lord's window.
"What's the meaning of this?" Asroc's eyes burned with rage. The Dark Lord, eyes barely visible under his hood, looked up with slight surprise. "Asroc," he whispered, "It's been so long. What brings you out of your chamber?"
"Cut the crap," Asroc roared. "I've been ruined. My raid is a joke! They've cut my ability-- the gear bypass-- and I need you to do something about it before my damn tier gets lowered!"
"Asroc, my friend, there's not much I can do. I don't determine the Code, nor does any other entity in this game. I would remind you, though, that the Chamber of Challenges was added in the first release, back in '07, and I'd imagine that your gear bypass was judged incompatible with the modern PvE meta."
"What? It's the simplest ability there is! It was what made me special-- you remember the magazines! 'A refreshing return to the strategy of arcade games long past, the frustratingly difficult Chamber of Challenges is one of the highlights-'"
"Asroc," the Dark Lord interrupted, "it's simply not a modern mechanic. It doesn't resonate with users, it doesn't work with many of the new combat updates-- everything's gear-based now, you should know that. It makes no sense for a vanilla boss like you to remain the game's greatest challenge. Frankly, I'm surprised they haven't patched you out entirely. Your golden days are over, Asroc, and you'd best get used to it."
"I... I don't know what to do. I don't know how to be anything but an impossible challenge. I don't know how... how to fail."
"Don't worry, Asroc," the Dark Lord whispered, eyes glinting in the dark. "I will do my best to help you."
Asroc the Defiler, rank 15 postgame raid boss death wyrm, flew off into the night. As his silhouette shrank into the distance, the Dark Lord's unknowable eye somehow appeared, for a single moment, to shed a tear for his oldest friend.
The dragon soared over the horizon, spread his wings and triumphantly breathed his famous fire into the sky.
And then, in an instant, he was gone.
| 2017-10-10T08:12:43
| 2017-10-10T07:14:39
| 28
| 15
|
[WP] The last person on earth throws a birthday party.
Go ahead and stretch the limits. Doesn't matter whose party or if everyone else is dead or moved away...
I kind of want to see a coocoo for coco puffs character.
|
"Hey Katherine. Fancy seeing you here" he said, embracing yet another empty segment of air. "You don't seem drunk enough. Have a beer!" He went to the fridge, grabbed a Sammy A's, and threw it into the wall behind his special pocket of air.
Such is the life of Gregory. Last man alive, but he doesn't want to die.
|
The day has finally arrived...
or at least I think it is "the day"?
...
Sure, why not? Today must be my birthday. I distinctively remember the cold. I remember the blinding light and my exposed nakedness. This feeling of frailty and fear as my wet body shakes is all too familiar. Soon my parents will hold me in their arms and shower me with their unmatched affections...
Ah, yes. There is my mother's lovely touch. It is just the way I remember. Her comforting breath is heating my face and I can see my father looking down with delight in his eyes...
As my mother bites into my cheek and my dad rips into my stomach I am fully overwhelmed with appreciation for them and for the life they have given me. After all, it was them who broke me out of that giant metal tube.
~A little off topic but it was your prompt that inspired me (sorry for grammar)
| 2013-12-27T07:48:08
| 2013-12-27T07:24:25
| 25
| 14
|
[WP] Humanity is the idiot savant of the galaxy. We're terrible at almost everything compared to every other race, but we surpass them in spades in one thing.
**DO NOT CHOOSE WARFARE**
It's a boring and overdone answer.
This is inspired by the book Year Zero, where humanity is laughably incompetent in most of our cultural endeavors, but there isn't a species alive no matter how old that is better than us at [X]. It's up to you what [X] is. Maybe we're the best cooks in the galaxy, maybe we're the best dancers, musicians, clowns, that's up to you!
**All I ask is that you do not pick warfare**
|
:Mode Comm 22222000202000200:
-Observational Log
-Scout: Amarath Kra
-TimeDate: XXXX.X.XXXX.X.X.
The letters came through, and so followed the voice. Amarath's words moved from one end of the universe to the other. The pause in communication was only that of a half-second--information shooting past light through microscopic wormholes that cut the distance by fractions multiplied. The cadence of his language sounded as liquid metal sliding down glass.
"I have made a decision." The voice paused. The receiving communicator waited patiently. His grey fingers gently tapped the comm. Dark eyes thoughtful.
"We should wait. It would be advised against to move forward with contact... but nor should we bar it completely. As originally concluded, the species is at a substandard level of development. Self-aware, yes, but planetarily disjointed. Separated by geography, race, culture, and differently levels of technological advancement. Entire groups and 'cultures' of this species suffer and starve on one side of the planet, while the other half... doesn't seem to care."
Amarath paused. The receiver crossed his hands about where a chin might be.
"But... They have something we don't. Something that all of the Common Coil species lack. No, they have not gone interstellar. No, they have not cured all diseases present for their species. However... they have the ability to □□□□□."
The receiver started and leaned forward.
"Amarath---I did not catch that. What was that?"
"We do not have a word for it... sending translation from one of the native languages. Thankfully, they at least had a competent language system."
The receiver nodded and typed in a few inputs. The computer clicked its most inner-workings and thought it out, and displayed the following translation:
**LAUGH**
"It's pronounced," Amarath said, "'Laff". They have their separate tenses, but essentially, it's a new emotion. A new feeling. This, I think, is special. They even have a modus of language personal to them, completely honed through several forms of media, to induce emotion. Sending translation now... They call it 'humor'. "
The receiver began sending messages through the main computer-comm. This was important. *Really* important. After a few moments, he looked either side of him, noting the emptiness of the Scout Check center in general. He hunched forward.
"Amarath?"
Amarath, cut even by the distance he was, could hear the change in tone.
"Yes, receiver."
"What does it do? Laugh? Humor?"
Amarath's voice was laced with nervous gusto. "Oh---it's entirely impossible to explain. They display it from nowhere. And it's confusing. Many of them come from... *word* tricks. Of the language, I mean. When 'laughter' happens it causes deep and uncontrolled euphoria in the being, sometimes bleeding into emotions such as sadness, anger, or even love."
"How?"
"No one knows. At least no one on the ship. I even explored the findings with the mechanic Scurs , and they had no clue. Best we summarized, it's part catharsis, and part recognition of ironic elements within their language and life. Sometimes nonsequitur. In fact, "
"... Elaborate. What do you mean?"
"Listen to this, receiver. I'm going to tell you something I made up. I read and poured over their language media, and I... might have come up with some 'humor' as they have called it. It requires context. It reflects their values and their beliefs sometimes, so I had to make my own. Are you ready for it? It's called a 'joke' in their language. "
The receiver nearly declined. Nearly hung up. But curiosity kept him glued.
"I'm ready."
"What thrusts and thrusts until it's load is unloaded?"
The receiver froze. Certainly... certainly Amarath wasn't talking about *that*, was he? He certainly knew of it, even if they were different species. Because, well, most biped species usually mated that way but... how was that...
"Receiver?"
"Uh! Yes, Amarath, I can't think of anything! Honestly. You're speaking awful vague and--"
"The answer is the engine of a transport."
The receiver blinked. The engine--the engine thrusts and a transport unloads, not unlike....
"Heh..."
The receiver clapped his hands over his mouth, a strange and foreign giddiness entering his being. It was a little devious. And the 'joke', yes, it was a little... racy, but oh! That had been a laugh, maybe? He couldn't stop smiling. He hadn't been this euphoric since meeting his own mate back home.
"A-amarath! I... what was... was that it? That sound?"
Amarath returned the same sound over the comm.
"It's called a 'chuckle' and they are a minor form of 'laughter'. "
The receiver balked. "Minor?!?"
A fluttering sound poured over the comm. It rose and fell and he realized Amarath was making the sound. He--he was *laughing*.
"Receiver, I think we're all going to be entering a new era soon. Because we've discovered something. This 'laughter'... This phenomenon that is like a drug. It's... "
The receiver gripped the ledge and leaned forward. "What? What is it?"
The receiver could hear the smile over the comm.
"It's contagious."
|
"Look at these foolish mortals, dancing and singing." said Altarion, sipping his glass of wine with disapproval in his auburn eyes.
"Ha, if you would even call that dancing," said the creature next to him, brushing her silky white fur, "They are smashing their bodies into each other under the influence of drugs and terribly repetitious music. Very few left cling to the sacred arts. These humans are uncultured. They know nothing of the arts...Nothing. Egocentric are all of their works, surrounded with an heir of arrogance. Absolutely shameful."
A different kind of creature across the room smiled with a delightful grin, "Aww, I think you two are quite too harsh on our fellow mortals. At least they know how to have fun."
"Fun." sneered the white-haired creature, rolling her emerald eyes. "Life is not supposed to be fun. Art is not fun. Life is pain. Art is pain. Fun is for fools. Of course, *your kind* would like think otherwise."
"Of course we do," said the good-natured creature, chuckling, his armor-like skin, gleaming refulgently under the hollow lights of the room, "Who cares about the arts? What good are they? Being cooped in all day, painting and writing and composing. For what? Art is just a big complaint. No, no, life is meant to be explored. To be spent outside in all the wonders. To harness the power of nature. To compete. And win. Yes, that is fun. That is what life is about."
"Well, these humans. They're not very good at that either, are they Moltram?" said yet another creature from across the table, his lens-like eyes constantly adjusting as he spoke," I mean look at them. Most are saggy, frail, and fragile little creatures. All incapable of physical greatness. Even their greatest competitions are laughable. Wouldn't you agree?"
"I find them to be amusing," said Moltram, "but yes, they are a little sad."
"And if you look closely," the other went on, his eyes spiraling complexly, "You'll see that they are quite inept survivors as well. Most cannot hunt for themselves and are quite incapable of self-defense. And they refuse to acknowledge the immense damage they have performed on their global ecosystem. They are irresponsible, dependent, and negligent creatures. I cannot wait to see their timely demise."
"Well," a small creature piped up from across the room, her small airy voice carrying across the room softly, "At least some of them have taken initiative and are trying to care for the environment. You can at least give them some credit."
"Oh, please," laughed Agnus, his cold eyes, calculating, "They just found out about recycling and electric-powered cars. These humans are worthless, truly. I wonder why they were ever created in the first place."
"I'm sure there is a reason." said the small fairy like creature, her voice almost whisper-like, "What concerns me more, however is there lack of sympathy for one-another. It amazes me that over one billion of them each day have nothing to even eat or drink. And yet, no one seems to care."
"Well, I'm not sure if that can be attributed to their lack of survival skills or their lack of empathy, but either reason proves their worthlessness." spoke Agnus.
The small, soft creature, looked close to the point of tears, her translucent skin, was glowing softly, "But don't you care at all, Agnus? It's so sad. I can feel their pain, their suffering. If only they learned true empathy, then they could thrive. Don't you think?"
Agnus shrugged, "It is not like my kind to care much for compassion, but I suppose anything could be helpful at this point."
"Nonsense! Both of you!" said another female voice belonging to a tall dark figure, towering from across the room. "What these humans lack is intelligence. No race can succeed without intellect or science to push them forward. And these dull humans are barely scraping by. Only a few have demonstrated the capability for higher scientific reasoning. It's a miracle really that they have even survived at all. They are ignorant creatures, unconcerned with the consequences that their inefficient systems will surely bring about. Detestable. Stupid. They lack foresight and only care about rapid expansion."
"What you mean, Nadir," said a stout, green creature with dirty paws, "Is that they lack self-control. These humans have almost no control of their feelings. They let their emotional state dominate their reality. They need to overcome their weakening emotions and focus on the important things. They must restrain their sexual impulses and impregnating each other so early and so much...You'd think they ought to have learned that by now."
"You have all brought up good points," said a beautiful winged creature who stood in the center of the room, "But you are all forgetting that these humans, despite their faults, have lasted."
"So have the mosquitos, but most would regard them as pests." said Nadir, curling her lip with indifference.
"So where is their strength? What were they created for?" asked the small fairy-like creature, tears in her wide eyes.
The winged creature smiled back, with warmth in her eyes, "They're greatest strength is also their greatest weakness: each other."
* * *
K finished tell me what you think!!
| 2014-07-16T12:55:19
| 2014-07-16T11:11:14
| 29
| 13
|
[WP]You work in a jewelry store. One antique diamond ring sits there, slowly tarnishing. You ask the owner the story of the ring.
|
"This ain't an easy job kid."
Joe was sorting the bills, counting them out like he did every night with slow patience. I sat on the old stool, spinning round now the store was closed for the night. I didn't like to leave the old man alone when he locked up and the few extra minutes, they didn't hurt.
“I know.”
“I’m not talking about keeping a piece under the register either.”
My spinning stopped. Joe had my own pay stacked neatly beside the other bills, but he didn’t hand them over yet.
“You’ve done alright,” I said. “Don’t see what’s so hard about it.”
Joe laughed and reached into the back of the register’s drawer. And he pulled it out. The old ring, the one he never talked about but never let me put somewhere safe. It wasn’t the most expensive item in the inventory, heck it wasn’t even the biggest stone. For as long as I’d been working for Joe, I’d seen that ring every time I rang up a customer.
“We deal with people,” Joe said.
“Their things you mean?”
“No.”
He clutched the ring tight in his fist.
“We see people at two points in their life. You’ve got the kid, just got into the military, got his girl pregnant, whatever, and he wants to make it special. He’s coming in here because he’s thinking about everything that’s going to happen when he leaves.”
“And the other?” I asked.
“They come in here to leave a piece of themselves behind. The man who’s wife was killed when they were driving back from a fancy meal. A father whose son isn’t coming home.”
Joe still sat on his chair, still faced the neat stacks of money. He picked mine up and placed the ring on top of it.
“You’re going to see people at their best kid, and at their utter worst. Make whatever money you want from the former, they’re full of life and happy to share.”
Joe held the money out and I held it, but he didn’t let go. The ring was balanced on top.
“When a person comes in this door, and their life has gone to shit? That’s when you’ll realise there are more important things than money.”
He let go and I took my pay. It was perfect as always, all the faces lined up neatly. I flicked the ring back and forth in my fingers.
“Joe?”
“Yeah kid?”
“I appreciate all this.”
After he retired, I took over the running of the store. I saw the happy and the sad.
And every time I opened that register, I saw a reminder that people were more than the things they left behind.
|
It was during his first month working at the store that Nathan saw the ring, tucked away in a box behind the cash register.
It was an intricate thing, multiple jewels winking at him. A layer of dust and dirt dimmed its luster ever so slightly. He was reaching for it, when the hoarse voice of Oliver, the store owner, spoke behind him.
"Leave that alone," the old man snapped, grabbing the box and slipping it into his jacket pocket.
"Sorry, I just wanted to clean it, it's a bit grimy," Nathan said, taken aback at the angry set of the old man's mouth. He had never seen him angry - melancholic and tired, certainly, but not angry.
Oliver's scowl faded slightly. "I suppose it is a bit neglected. It's just...this ring...well, never mind. You get back to cleaning the rest of the store, Nathan."
"Tell me!" Nathan said. "Please?"
Oliver knew he could just snap at the young man to leave the matter alone, but Nathan would just keep wondering. Keep digging and pestering him, and keep wanting to look at the ring. He knew how young people worked. He'd been one himself, once.
"It has a curse on it," Oliver said, trying for a light tone of voice.
"One touch and you die that very same night. Supposedly once belonged to an old wizard who proposed to a beautiful young woman...and when she refused him, he placed a terrible curse on it and forced it on her hand."
Nathan was staring at him as if he'd lost his mind.
"Whoever touched it thereafter died slowly, in agony," Oliver added a touch defensively. "It somehow landed in my store, the family just wanted to get rid of it. Now, call me a suspicious old fogey, but I just leave it. I don't touch it and I don't sell it."
"Right. A wizard. Ok," Nathan said, and moved off to clean the rest of the store.
As an art student who specialised in jewellery, he'd chosen to work here for some practical experience. An old-fashioned, beautiful little store. He thought it'd be romantic. But Oliver was just a bit too weird, sometimes. He always seemed shocked and discomfited to find Nathan in the store, even though he'd been working there for a month now. The old man had probably been alone for too long. Maybe he should just get a job at a modern gallery.
"You be careful never to touch it, alright, boy? Don't want your death on my hands," Oliver added as Nathan resumed cleaning. He saw Nathan suppress a smirk.
He'd seen the contempt in the boy's eyes after he'd told the story, and was glad. Maybe Nathan would just leave, now. He'd thought it would be interesting to have another person working here, keeping him company. Help his loneliness a little. But all it did was invite trouble and stir up memories he'd rather forget. He'd almost managed to forget about the ring, for example.
The family marriage ring, passed down through the generations, and the many times he'd tried to use it to propose to Estelle. The only love of his life. His life, not hers. He'd almost forgotten the mix of pity and disdain in her eyes when she'd refused him, again and again. Forgotten the cursed thing that he could never manage to toss away or get over his heart to sell, rich as it was with his family's history.
Well. Hopefully his crazy story sent Nathan packing. Things could get back to how it always was, before a strange young life went about interfering with his store and what was buried in its corners.
There would be no more painful questions, and no more memories.
-----------
Hope you enjoyed my story! You can find more of my work on /r/Inkfinger/.
| 2016-11-20T08:15:25
| 2016-11-20T07:30:59
| 42
| 14
|
[WP] In the style of Dr. Seuss explain a major event in human history.
|
One day, two buildings stood tall
two buildings stood proud and tall, side by side.
two buildings that stood so wonderfully tall, with nowhere to hide
they stood together with pride,with thousands of people inside.
One day two wonderfully tall buildings watched the September sun.
As inside the two buildings was working everyone.
working was everyone inside two buildings that stood so wonderfully tall
not even to entertain the thought that they, someday, might fall.
One day two wonderful buildings were greeted with a boom
greeted with a big boom and a flash
greeted with a big boom and a crash
greeted with a big boom and a smash.
There stood the wonderfully tall buildings,
both sporting fire and smoking gash.
Fire ablaze there stood two buildings with people inside
people inside that tried to hide
people inside that screamed and cried
people inside that hoped,prayed, and cried not to die.
One day and one by one
two building stood tall, so wonderfully tall in the september sun
there they stood being watched by everyone
there they stood and one by one, they fall
at the end of the day
no longer will two wonderful buildings stand tall.
|
The rain fell hard as if God himself had spat,
with a pitter and a pat
Noah pulled an idea out of his hat
"A boat! An ark! How about that!
I'll need some, wood, glue and electrically safe mat,
And then I'll bring my friends Mr. and Mrs. Cat, Rat, and Bat."
| 2014-08-09T20:53:32
| 2014-08-09T19:25:57
| 46
| 12
|
[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
|
\#21904. That used to be my name, three days ago, and now I'm, well, #1.
No one in the city knows how it happened. The Top 30, the ruling cabal, have absolutely no idea. I still haven't figured it out, either.
All I remember is walking into a meeting where #1 was giving a speech- for the first time, since I'd finally turned 18 and had to follow the city's decrees. He didn't even say a word; he just randomly glared at me, told me to come up to the podium- and, overcome with dread, I did. Then he thrust his dagger toward me.
I closed my eyes and realized he'd held it backwards; the hilt was in my hands. Before I could react, he jerked it back sharply and blood shot out of his chest straight into my face. His power was telepathy, not immortality. I screamed. He was smiling.
He didn't even bother to speak. Nobody else in the room even gasped. I was #1, and they accepted it. They were smiling, too.
I wish I'd been able to figure out what was going on, but I've been around 18 years and I haven't even found out my power. There's no chance of me figuring it out anytime soon, either, since every day I face another challenge. Some are from the remaining Top 30, the ones who weren't at the meeting, and others are just nobodies who think they have a shot because of what happened to me.
Thing is, at all the public challenges, the same thing happens. They come in there grimacing, but when they get up, they use their power against themselves. They all die. Smiling. And the crowd smiles too.
It seems like they all just want me to win.
|
Pacing back and forth in front of me, David paused, one foot half-hovering over the blood-stained carpet. "Tell me, Kat, what happened?"
The body was sprawled out before us on the black tile floor of the penthouse. Streams of slimy, congealed blood wove intricate rivers in the cracks between the slate pieces, and tiny bits of bone were strewn around like confetti. I did this. I fucking did this. And now I would have to pay. My mouth opened and I took a deep breath. Not knowing what to say next, my lips met once again and I exhaled deeply. My clothes were misted with red droplets. It was on me, on the walls, on the floor, shit, even on the ceiling.
"You do realize what this means, right?" he questioned again. Taking a single step forward, David's boot made a sickening crunching sound as it crushed bone fragments into the floor. He winced.
My brow lowered beyond the brim of my glasses. "We have to clean it up before anyone finds out...before anyone knows what I did. Shit...shit...shit...SHIT." My hand met my forehead. It felt wet, and when I pulled my palm away, smears of red coated it.
I was smart. Other people were strong and could lift cars. Some people had telekinesis. Others could will others to do whatever they want. But me? I was just...smart. I came here at the request of Rodger, and now I was leaving with a prize I didn't want. I was number one.
This island was founded as a sort of encampment. Years ago after the war, everyone who had a gift was placed here. They told the founders of this city that it was done to protect the rest of humanity. Alcatraz was a prison back in the early 20th century, but now it was our home—an island full of everyone the rest of the world wanted to put away. History had come full circle. We had numbers that ranked us by how destructive or dangerous our powers could be. It formed a pecking order of sorts. David, my best friend since we had been born, was number thirty. He was a walking torch; hands so hot that they melted all the testing instruments. All you had to do was piss him off.
I was just smart.
The warden. Number one. Prime. The goddamned warden. We were prisoners, and I killed the fucking warden. Sure, he wasn't called that by non-specials but that's exactly what he was. His official title was "Overseer and Diplomat of the People." But it was all the same. Any time the main land wanted to do something or needed to talk with us, he was the go-to. Rodger was his name. He had been our leader for nearly 5 years, by default. The most powerful one always became Prime, and Rodger was undisputed. He easily had twenty times the strength of a normal, could punch through steel like wet paper, and once put down a coup d'etat led by a dozen specials with just his bare hands. But now he was dead, and his twisted, mangled remains rested on the floor in front of me.
"Kat, you're Prime now. You do realize that, right?" David nudged my shoulder slightly with two fingers. I could feel a comforting warmth in his fingertips. He was trying to bring me back. I was still woozy, so all I could do is nod slowly.
This happened because Rodger had tried to turn me into an informant. You see, Prime or not, every leader needs support. Although he was benevolent, people hated him for who and what he was. The man was not just an envoy or a mayor, he was also a symbol of order. Some of the top echelon hated order and wanted to bring anarchy. When I got the call to come to the Warden's office, I jumped off of the couch and practically ran the whole way there. He was in the leather chair, fingers interwoven.
"Kat," he said. "Please, come on in and have a seat." My hooded shirt was soaked with sweat from the run and it made a strange squeaking sound against the leather chair as I sat down. "Thank you for coming."
"It's no problem sir. But why did you want to meet with a nobody...especially me? I mean, I'm no one, at least compared to you. I mean, I ca-"
He cut me off.
| 2014-12-18T14:20:18
| 2014-12-18T13:32:26
| 171
| 16
|
[WP] "Come to me! Face your fear mortal!" "I fear NOTHING!" "Then I will show you true nothingness!" A few moments pass and the warrior before you is a crumpled mess. Your turn. "Come to me! Face your fear mortal!"
|
Demons are always the worst ones to face.
It's not that they're particularly strong. Dragons and Gods have them beat by a mile, and fighting a giant sucks when your biggest sword is the equivalent to a sewing needle to them. Hell, even elementals have the whole 'nigh unkillable' thing going on. But demons are definitely the most hated of the bunch, cruel and vindictive as they are, so the bounties are always high. The thing with demons, though, is that there's always some kind of trick.
When word had gotten around that a demon with a high bounty had made its lair close to the city, all the local heroes had jumped at the chance to take it down. The strongest went first, great swordsmen and women who'd bested giants, sorcerers who had reduced elementals to ash, rogues who had stolen off with a dragon's entire hoard.
The strongest were also the first to die. When their bodies were thrown at the city walls the next day, a voice bellowed into the sky: "WEAKLINGS! IS THIS THE STRONGEST YOU OFFER ME, MORTALS!? COME AND FACE YOUR FEARS!"
The next to go were the smartest. Adventurers who had bested the most nefarious of demons in battles of wit. When their bodies were next splattered against the wall, the voice roars out again, this time closer. "IDIOTS! ARE THESE THE SMARTEST YOU SEND TO ME, MORTALS!? COME AND FACE YOUR FEARS!"
More and more went, and each time they returned by being splattered against the city walls, each time that same voice bellowing a taunt, until finally it's only me and the two others in my party left to face it. It's hard refuse going out to battle the demon when the crying faces of the city residents offer anything of value they have. Even harder when your oldest companion has gagged and dragged you behind him to actually do it.
"MMMPH!" I let my protest be heard, struggling as hard as I can. We should have left this city and just gone to another one, but *noooo*, Euracles just *had* to be the courageous asshole he is. Amphire had the right idea when she had slinked away in the middle of the night. I should have gone with her. "MMMMPHHHMMM!"
"Be silent, old friend, and face your fate with courage." Euracles demands righteously, and I finally spit out the gag in my mouth.
"YOU CAN TAKE YOUR COURAGE AND STUFF IT! FRIENDS DO NOT DRAG FRIENDS TO FACE CERTAIN DEATH!" I scream, and he laughs. The son of a bitch actually *laughs*.
"We have faced worse! Now, a show of strength, friend. The fiend is before us!" He declares, and I sigh as he cuts me loose from my bonds. I consider booking it, but he's right, the demon is standing in what looks like a makeshift arena made of bone and blood. An arena we've already entered.
The creature smiles widely, it's sharp and crooked teeth glistening in the firelight provided by braziers made of... were those *ribcages?*
"SO THERE ARE STILL THOSE WITH COURAGE!" It bellows far too loudly, spreading its arms wide, its glowing golden eyes curving upwards into crescent moons of delight. Euracles draws his sword, the enchanted ice around it flowing with frost that coils downwards to the ground. "COME TO ME MORTAL! FACE YOUR FEAR!"
Euracles steps forward powerfully, his foot caving in the ground. "I fear NOTHING!" He cries, charging forward, and the demon's smile widens further.
"THEN I SHALL SHOW YOU *NOTHING!"* It declares triumphantly, and in the next moment Euracles is gone. There is no sound, no flash of light. One moment he's running forward, and the next he's just *gone*, his sword and armor clattering to the ground.
Holy shit.
The demon turns to me, its form growing larger as it smiles once again. "COME TO ME, MORTAL! FACE. YOUR. *FEAR*!" It now towers over me, and I swallow thickly.
This fucker just killed Euracles. I mean sure, he was an asshole, and he dragged me into this, but still... Actually, I don't know what I was upset about. *Fuck* Euracles.
"Uh... actually, I think I'm just gonna go." I say, gesturing behind me.
"THEN I SHALL SHOW YOU..." The figure begins to bellow, before blinking in confusion. "What?"
I nod, taking a slow step back. "Yup. You've clearly got this in the bag. The city's yours. Don't know why I need to be here." I say, and the demon tilts its head, clearly bewildered.
"But... but your friend." It stutters. "Aren't you angry that-"
"Nope!" I interrupt it, waving a hand. "Friends don't drag other friends to fight a demon with them. We're good on that front."
It shakes its head in disbelief, its mouth turning downwards into a frown as its brows furrow. "COWARDICE! YOU MUST FACE YOUR FEAR, MORTAL!"
I shrug. "Well, you know, some asshole once said that the only thing to fear is fear itself. And I'd say I've faced that one pretty well, what with me being here and all." I leave out the part where I was forcefully dragged here, instead taking a few more steps back. "So I'm just gonna..."
I trail off as its eyes widen once more, looking downwards as its body begins to swell. "IMPOSSIBLE! YOU'VE ALREADY FACED YOUR FEAR!?" It screams, and I look on with mild concern. "I REFUSE TO ACCEPT IT! TO BE BESTED BY THIS COWA-"
With a slight *pop*, the demon erupts into cinders. When they settle, the arena made of bone and blood fades away like a mirage, leaving only the demon's last screech lingering in the air. I look around, now left alone in a completely ordinary forest, and tilt my head.
I guess that was the thing with demons. There was always a trick.
|
"No" I reply simply with a blank face and a calm tone before turning back and walking away.
"Is that allowed?" hear someone whisper in the crowd/line waiting for their turn.
A force pulled me back, I felt the very fabric of reality drag me back toward the Eldritch God that invaded our planet and destroyed most of our civilization and forced the remaining survivors to die through their worst fears.
Needless to say, Cthulhu is kind of an asshole
"Insolent *insect!* You dare-" before he could finish his sentence I already made up my mind.
We are all gonna die anyway, there exists no way out of this scenario, and there is no path that would lead to a happy ending.
So I decided to aggravate the hell out of that tentacle monster-looking motherf*cker. What is he gonna do? Kill me faster??
"My biggest fear is having my **** being sucked by an eldritch god!" my hands reached for my pants, undoing them swiftly and letting them fall to my ankles. "So? What are you waiting for!? On your knees you fucking hentai monster, get to work! I don't have all day!"
A *deafening* silence could be heard all around. Nobody could believe that a single insignificant third-dimensional being would ever dare speak to a tenth-dimensional being like that! Both the brains of my fellow humans and the mind of the Eldritch God seemed to have trouble trying to comprehend what just happened.
"What? Are you nervous? Is it your first time?" I asked mockingly before giving the cosmic deity a once over and forcing the most disgusted grimace I could muster. "Obviously. With a look like that who would ever want to date you? And what's with all that slime on your body!? Have you heard of showers?? I bet even your mother doesn't hug you because you're so disgusting!"
"Y-you filthy-" before it could finish I interrupted him/her/it, (whatever the fuck the pronounce are for this abomination) again.
"Filthy!? Well obviously! Ever since you brought the apocalypse 4 months ago I haven't showered at all! But you still *somehow* manage to smell worse than me, and I smell like I took a bath in a septic tank!" I gagged. The smell is partly true, he does not smell good at all!
"Stop it!" the Eldritch God seemed to force the words out of its alien throat.
"y'know what? I don't want the blowjob." I put up my pants and looked the god into its many eyes. "I'll probably get some 6th dimensional STD that will make my balls fall off, gain sentience, and start devouring the planet, but that doesn't matter since I wouldn't touch you with a stick even if I was to be offered unlimited cosmic powers!" Just as I was about to go on even more into my verbal assault, I stopped as I saw something weird.
Tears started pouring out of the monster's eyes and choked sobs escaped its mouth.
Is...is it crying!?
"You are a meanie!" it yelled and took off into the skies. "I'm never coming back here again! You are a jerk!" it cried out before it left the planet's atmosphere and flew away into the infinite cosmos.
...
Did I just save the planet by bullying an Eldritch God?
| 2022-12-19T00:45:50
| 2022-12-19T00:24:00
| 108
| 68
|
[WP] Write a comedic story but in the last line, change it into a horror story
|
He loved the writing props thread. It was something that allowed him to be creative despite a pretty dull existence.
One day, he saw a prompt he really liked and so he told a humorous story of a man who so enjoyed making people smile he would, on some days, dress as a clown in the city center, and on others, visit children in the hospital, paying for their medical expenses.
He liked writing this story, it made him happy to think of the benevolent man who brought smiles to everyone. He thought about how it might be received on the thread.
But then, his computer crashed, deleting everything he had typed.
|
I'm kind of bored and not sure what to write so forgive me if this sucks.
It was a long trip. Always was, the drive from our dorm out to the lake. Usually took upwards of 7 hours but we didn't mind. We'd spend most of the drive singing along to the latest pop shit on the radio or riling up Dan with some bullshit conspiracy theory he'd always believe. It was different this summer though. Mark got deep into a relationship and pretty much cut off contact with us and Jenny moved down to Missouri.
We stopped by a diner on the way to eat. Kong sent back his omelet 6 times just to see how mad the waitress would get. By the time he finally ate it who knows what was in that thing. He left a generous tip though, i think somewhere around $50 with a note telling her to share it with the cooks, he was a dick but always made up for it in grand ways.
It was almost dusk when we finally got back on the road. Marge and Lily sat up front while us three guys crammed in the back. We still had another 3 hours to go. Dan and I had a smoke to kill the time, which really made Lily happy. Fucking stoner loved her grass more than any of us. The 5 of us got high as balls and just laughed for what felt like days. We laughed at the stupidest shit like a cow on top of a hill or Kong making impressions of our physics teacher. We finally pulled up to the cabin at around 10:30. The trees looked so high up and far away that it felt like they never ended. It was extremely dark once the car shut off. We all piled out and grabbed our things and went up to the door...
I miss all of them, I wish the drive had gone on forever.
| 2013-10-24T22:16:10
| 2013-10-24T20:37:06
| 24
| 12
|
[WP] Time travel exists, and a new form of capital punishment is introduced: Transporting the convict back to the worst, practically unsurvivable, places in human history to find yourself in. You are such a convict, and just got sent back. You will do anything to try and survive.
|
I landed in a quaint town, next to a smoky mountain.
Of course, there was no point running. I had watched documentaries on this procedure on the Aliens Channel, and they always picked times with fast travel and events with a large span of effect or controlled by a homicidal maniac who is guaranteed to murder you.
I looked around. There were a couple of people dressed in a prisoner's garb similar to mine looking around quizzically. Hm. This was probably a popular destination for capital punishment.
I saw a street sign, it looked like Latin. I had begun to get an idea of where I was.....
Then another sign; from the picture it seemed like a warning about the smoky mountain. And on the top, it said something about "Omnes Cives Pompeii".
Oh. I was sure of it now. This Roman town was the doomed Pompeii, and that mountain, Vesuvius.
But wait. Where were all the people? The shops were all closed. The streets had empty carriages on them. It looks like the people of the city just ... left.
Perhaps the tragedy had already happened? No, I was certain this town was buried with its inhabitants in it. This was strange; I could distinctly recall disturbing images of the ash remains of people cringing from Vesuvius' regurgitations.
More prisoners popped up around me.
The horrifying truth struck me.
No _Roman_ was killed at Pompeii.
|
I suppose I deserved it really, but why give me the choice? How could anyone make that kind of choice?
Gallipoli or the Somme. Two of the worst battles in history. Bloodbaths of the highest degree.
"WELP, if I'm gonna choose, I'll take Gallipoli, at least it will be sunny." I said to the executor, and he turned to punch it into the machine.
The standard "any last requests or word to say" have long since gone, that bastard Washington cheated and became famous! He ruined everything for people like me...
As the machine buzzed and whirred to life, I sat inside and remained calm. Nothing much to do about it but wait and receive punishment.
A flash of light; a searing heat, then the roar of war erupts around me.
I open my eyes, and begin to smile.
| 2015-01-24T14:05:11
| 2015-01-24T13:01:21
| 194
| 11
|
[WP] “LOVE IS IN THE AIR, I REPEAT, LOVE IS IN THE AIR! SEEK THE NEAREST RESPIRATOR OR SAFE ZONE AND DO NOT GO OUTSIDE UNTIL THE ALL CLEAR IS GIVEN! DO NOT ATTEMPT TO HELP ANYONE SHOWING ANY SYMPTOMS!
|
It started off small. They first experimented on a small town in the middle of nowhere. No one knows where. We only know that the results were extremely promising. The crime rate, which was the reason that town had been picked in the first place, had cratered. The experiment was a resounding success. It was hailed as a revolutionary breakthrough that would bring peace all over the world. No more wars. No more conflicts. The end of the whole mess as they called it.
So soon enough, the plans for a large scale rollout began. It needed to be done and it needed to be done soon. The plans had to be highly accelerated due to the threat of a possible world war 5 on the horizon. Even though the world was still recovering from the last one.
And so it began.
The announcements are blaring all over. I look at all the people running all around me, ignoring them.
Love. What an idea.
I continued on, unaffected.
A young soldier stopped me. “Sir. You aren’t allowed here. You need to take some shelter. The weather patterns indicate the next rain will be the highest concentration ever seen.”
His voice was muffled by the massive respirator he was wearing.
“How old are you kid?”
“Sir?”
“How old are you?”
“Seventeen.”
“Aren’t you too young to be doing this?”
“My country needed me.”
Love of country. I rolled my eyes. “You ever love somebody kid?”
He didn’t have to answer. His hand went to a necklace he was wearing and he clutched it.
I put a hand on his shoulder and pulled out my badge with the other hand. “I’ll be fine. Go on. Help your country.”
They had gone for the soldiers first. For one, they are usually the ones with the most opportunity to hurt others. And the most training I suppose. And the other thing was that they are trained to follow orders. If the government just tells them to take a shot, they do it without much resistance. Belief in authority. Patriotism.
Idiocy.
Then the “geniuses” had salted the clouds or something. Introducing the potion into our water cycle.
Stupidity.
He looked shock at my badge and stepped back almost involuntarily. I walked past him, continuing into the military base.
She was waiting for me by the plane. I had seen her picture but Was meeting her for the first time.
“Douglas Cain?”
I nodded. I circled our aircraft. A lancair 360. Should be a smooth ride.
I could feel her eyes on me as I came around the bend. “I’m Dr. Crane.”
“I know.”
“Right. So… I… when do you think we can leave?”
“Five minutes.”
“Five?”
“The forecast says there’s a storm coming. Massive concentrations of the potion. I want to be out of here as soon as we can. Please use the bathroom and be back here in four minutes.”
“I…” she looked at my face. Realizing I meant it, she walked away swiftly, as swiftly as her respirator allowed her to walk.
I watched her walk away. I suppose she was quite attractive by conventional standards. Oh well.
I got in the aircraft and began preparing for the flight.
She fell asleep about one hour into our journey. I looked at her respirator fogging up and felt some amusement.
Weird.
I shook her shoulder. “We’re starting our descent. We’re here. The eye of the storm. Point zero.”
I landed at the site of the town we were only supposed to refer as Site zero. Where the experiment was first conducted.
It was now a ghost town, of course. These people had for some reason resisted the first love potion. But the increased exposure hadn’t left them untouched.
I don’t understand much about love. But from what I’ve heard, there is a very thin line between love and hate. As the potion affected more and more people, some of them got aggressive out of jealousy. Others sat at home, just crying all the time.
I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again.
Idiots.
|
"A little dose of oxytocin huh bud?" my uncle said before shedding his skin and flexing his very visible muscles.
Gaunty, old ladies ran past like a string of ducklings and I heard the sirens blasting all around before taking my government-issued emergency shot of testosterone. My uncle got down on all four and cursed the sun for shining down upon his sensitive hypodermis. An ambulance crinkled around a corner and as they swept my uncle up on a stretcher one of them turned toward me and said, "Ma'm you better step inside 'cause love's in the air tonight."
Just why an extradimensional being had manifested and blessed Phil Collins with powers beyond belief puzzled most of us, when we found time for puzzling, and streaming his music had recently become a capital offense given it shuddered listeners with waves and throes of excitement that made them grow new limbs most of which sprung from the rectal region. Even the word for the creation of all things had been banned as the mere association propagating electrically in your cerebrum was enough to melt your flesh clean off your bones.
We were all at the mercy of Phil Collins. That is, before Michael Slops entered the scene.
Slops had been born with a very rare disease that made him synthesize testosterone from calcium and some researchers believed it to now comprise 16.3 percent of his body mass. The natural predator of oxytocin, Slops' testosterone made him virtually immune to the depraved beast known as Phil Collins.
As I hurried home I heard the infamous wet steps of the legend himself and a moment later I saw, silhouetted against the sun, Slops taking on the astral blob of metaphysical matter Phil Collins as of late had become. It gushed and rained but what gushed and what rained I did not know. All I knew was that our man was up there, fighting our tormentor.
People rallied instantly, emerging from their shelters to see the oxytonergic air drawn into the lungs of Slops and we cried as he heroically slobbered it all up. Wet slaps of gratitude abounded. Phil Collins howled as a caged extraterrestrial and to our shared horror we saw he was carrying a drumstick.
"It's a trap!"
"Get down Mr Slops! Get down!"
But it was too late. Phil Collins drummed the belly of our savior and it burst into a sea of purple and pink, raining down on all of us, along with all the oxytocin Slops moments before had contained in his bodily cage.
Cries rang out from a want of skin for the skin ran down the gutters freely and there we stood; exposed wires of subcutaneous tissue, and broken choked wails penetrated tympanic membranes that, too, were melting away.
Phil Collins softly hummed and us wretched souls; milk without our corporeal cartons, cursed the thing of demon he had become. Then we heard the crack.
His face was a land of confusion as he gazed upon his broken instrument. Phil Collins looked up, toward the home planet of Strjekk Sjokkar the alien god of transformation, and he whelped.
Before him hovered Michael Slops, and in the hero's mouth were bones. A street sweeper had offered up his calcium for the cause and Michael Slops had now become a being of 100% testosterone.
Crackling thunder filled the air and a sweet rain fell down and it seemed to wash away our pain. The air sizzled and we saw that our skin was growing back--returning from whence it had come, oozing from the gutters to reassemble us and reskinned we basked proud as Michael Slops pulverized the astral form of Phil Collins. A cloud of gas was all that was left behind and it too dissipated and humanity was saved from oxytocinergic terror and free again to breathe in loveless air.
"How can we repay you?"
"You have saved us all!"
"I got here a bit late. What's going on?"
The people rejoiced and they got down on their knees, blessing their skin for the comfort it provided, and we all looked up to the brilliant mess of testosterone soaring above. "I have transcended," said Slops. "I have now become an alien god, from the perspective of beings from other worlds, and I will watch over you and let sweet gobs of testosterone rain down on you and I hope it will serve you well."
My uncle hopped out from behind a corner, skin intact, and he gave me a hug. "A little dose of oxytocin huh bud?" he said and so the eternal cycle of our time loop reset anew.
| 2022-04-20T17:04:36
| 2022-04-20T16:30:34
| 67
| 24
|
[WP] You receive a government text warning saying “EMERGENCY - LOCK ALL DOORS AND STAY INSIDE. DO NOT PANIC”. You hear your SO at the locked front door, who’s just come back from the supermarket. They beg to be let inside but you’re unsure. Something doesn’t feel right.
|
A sharp knock at the door startled Eric. The sudden jump caused him to drop the phone from his hand.
"Babe? I lost my key." Vanessa's voice came through the door. Eric stared at the phone embedded in the lush, grey carpet. It landed face up with the emergency message taking up the entire screen.
"LOCK ALL DOORS AND STAY INSIDE. DO NOT PANIC."
"Honey?" Vanessa knocked again to get his attention. Eric moved to the door as quietly as he could manage, then held his breath while he peeked through the peephole. He did not want her to know he was on the other side of the door.
Eric saw the back of Vanessa's head; his view was mostly obscured by a familiar tight, black bun. She seemed to be staring out the window at the end of the hallway. She knocked and called for him again, but without turning around. The knock felt low on the door enough that Eric realized she was knocking behind her. She was intentionally not facing the peephole.
"Eric!" She shouted with a trace of panic in her voice. "Let me in please!" The crack in her voice caused Eric to reach for the handle; he hated to see her uncomfortable in any way, but something did not feel right.
In their three years together, not a single thing slipped Vanessa's mind. The message also added questions. Why hadn't she said anything about the message? Her phone!
"Call me," Eric said through the door. She still did not turn around.
"What the hell? I don't have my phone, just open up!" She yelled at the hallway.
"Where's your phone?" Eric asked. He felt braver now, colder. His Vanessa would never lose her keys *and* her phone at the same time.
"Look, I didn't want to scare you, but there's some pretty weird stuff going on outside. When I saw it I was so scared that I literally dropped everything and ran back to you. Please, let me in."
"What kind of weird stuff?" Eric asked the black bun.
"Eric honey, I"m *really* scared right now. Can't I explain it to you inside?"
"No! The government sent a message to keep the doors locked. I'm scared too," he admitted. He saw Vanessa's head wobble and heard her laugh nervously.
"Locked doors aren't going to help. We need to get out of here."
"Get out of here? And go where?" Eric asked.
"Jesus Eric, open the door and I'll explain everything." She yelled at the hallway.
"Why aren't you turning around?"
"I've kept a lot of things from you, and I'm really regretting it right now, but I need you to open the door. I promise you'll get all the explanations you want."
"WHY AREN'T YOU TURNING AROUND?" he yelled the question again. He already decided this woman was somehow an imposter, he just wanted her to admit it. He watched the bun rotate slowly as she turned to face him. Her once dark green eyes now sparkled with golden light. Her irises were shaped like golden glowing stars.
"I love you," she said.
"WHAT DID YOU DO TO VANESSA!?" he pounded the door in a rage.
"I *am* Vanessa. Let me in so we can get out of here, then I'll explain everything.
"Explain it from there!" Vanessa looked over her shoulder at the window.
"No time, this is already taking too much time. Let me in." Eric chuckled.
"I'm safe inside. You're the one in a hurry, so explain it fast."
"You're NOT safe inside. No one is safe from her, we need to go."
"Her who? Go where?" Eric asked.
"There's so much to explain it's not going to be covered with me in the hallway. Open the door and you'll get all the answers."
"Why?" Eric asked. Suddenly a bigger question popped in his mind. "Why is it so important for you to get inside? If you're in a hurry you can get somewhere safe until it blows over." Vanessa laughed nervously again.
"There is no blowing over. You don't know what's going on, the government doesn't either. She's taking control of the Earth and *WE* need to be gone before that happens. I need to get inside because I need to get to you. I love you, it's the only way to make sure you're safe."
"You're not making any sense. If this mystery person is taking control of the Earth where are we going?" Eric saw Vanessa's starry eyes roll upward and he felt a bit offended. Then, he noticed tears starting to flow down her cheeks.
"Another Earth, obviously."
"What? What the hell are you talking about?"
"This is why I didn't want to explain it out here. You're going to have too many questions. Go look out the window," she said. Eric left the door to stare out the living room window. Their apartment was on the fifth floor and he had a decent view of the city. He did not see anything at first until he saw a skeleton shatter on the street below. It instantly pulled itself back together and began marching into the nearest building. He watched several more skeletons land, then he looked up. The skeletons were falling out of a large black hole in the sky. He looked around and noticed dozens more black holes raining skeletons on the city. He ran back to the door.
"What's happening!?" He shouted.
"Ballisea kills everyone, and she can't be stopped," Vanessa said with a soft, resigned voice. "It's how she invades. Those portals aren't just over the city, they're all over the world."
"There are already some skeletons in this building. If one of them finds me, Ballisea herself will show up," Vanessa sighed. Her crying still managed to give her golden eyes a reddish color. "I love you, but I'm not going to die for you. This is your last chance. Open the door, or I'm leaving without you." She stepped back from the door and made a gesture at the air. A smaller black portal opened in the hallway.
"You're one of them!" Eric shouted.
"Goodbye, Eric. I did love you," she said as she stepped into the black hole. When it disappeared Eric saw a skeleton step out of the stairwell. It walked to the first door in the hall and smashed through it with little effort. As it stepped into the apartment several more skeletons filed out of the stairwell, each crashing through a different door.
\*\*\*
Thank you for reading! I’m responding to prompts every day. This is year two, story #12. You can find all my stories collected on my subreddit ([r/hugoverse](https://www.reddit.com/r/hugoverse)) or my [blog](https://hugoverse.info/). If you're curious about my universe (the Hugoverse) you can visit the [Guidebook](https://hugoverse.info/2017/11/25/hugoverse-guidebook/) to see what's what and who's who, or the [Timeline](https://hugoverse.info/2017/10/23/hugoverse-timeline/) to find the stories in order.
|
For the first time since specifically choosing the dark mottled glass that we fit into the front door, I regret it. We pondered over everything in the house for so long I thought we would never make any decisions, but it was the one thing we both agreed on instantly. One of the few joyous moments I can remember from the past few months.
I can hear you making bad jokes and exhaling cigarette smoke. The glass is mottled but I can still see the ribbons that frame your face, you almost look gentle. I know this pretence won’t last long and soon your fist will be on a mission to meet up with my nose. My heart is in my throat as you call my name in that sing song way I used to think was cute. You tell me you can see me. Bastard glass, I knew we should have chosen a carved wooden panel instead. I will kick myself for this forever.
I need to think fast. I had planned to walk out before I got the text, my suitcases casting a dim shadow over my legs as I stand dead centre in the hallway. You’re getting irate. I can’t have you see the suitcases. I can’t. It will turn them into bodybags, holding my limbs close and solid against the worn material. I need more time. I need more time... I can hear you growing more and more exasperated. Your knuckles meet the glass as you slowly knock, a gentle beat. It reminds me of the song we used to sing in the car.
I can feel the sun on my face, the wind blowing my hair everywhere and you complaining, again, about how much of it falls out and litters your lap. You like it really. Little pieces of me to remind you what’s yours. The song playing in the background and our falsetto so loud we could probably deafen small children. But then the beat quickens, and I can hear the glass shatter.
I’ve spent so long worrying and thinking back to better times that I don’t have enough time to react as you thrust your hand through the glass and unlock the bolt. My hearing catches my sight up and I turn to run but the handle you’ve created out of my hair lately is already in your hands.
I hope you snap my neck. That’s the last thing I think before my body yanks back and meets with the cold hard floor.
| 2019-01-12T06:59:31
| 2019-01-12T06:51:06
| 165
| 25
|
[WP] The most difficult part of being a Supervillian? Find love, not because other people won't like you, but because the stupid Superheros will swoop in and "rescue" your date every time, but this time you have a plan, and it's going to work.
|
This is it! The Plan Bs to end all Plan Bs! This was absolutely fool-proof! I've tried concocting love potions; I've tried psychology tricks; I've tried going on blind dates with horrible people, even more horrible than I am; but all of those attempts were trashed! The common denominator? That little cocky brat coming in to save the princess like a valiant knight in rose-colored armor! She had foiled my attempts for a while now, but this time, I'm sure, shall be the last! I have watched her from the shadows, carefully putting the pieces, assimilating her behavior and preferences! Call it stalking if you will, but I refuse to play the part of a hopeless romantic any longer!
She is the blandest main character with a love for learning at day; magical girl by night. At least, that's what the data told me. Through my eyes, she was a kind yet nosy lady, and the frequent target of this nosiness is no other than me, a simple genius hacker whom she considers her equal, her rival! So I tried to adapt to her methods and analyzed her pattern. Home, school, library, home, superhero business.
Using this information, I acted accordingly. I began by applying as student librarian and developed a "close friendship" with her over time. I discovered she liked the same books I liked, and sometimes we swapped book recommendations. Sometimes she'd even talk about "that one hacker boy \[she\] knows that was kinda cute but has some questionable morals" and the misadventures that followed, not knowing she was making a fool out of herself. We also shared snacks and held hands, you know, the typical friendship stuff. So typical, I almost forgot she were my enemy.
But enough of that nonsense! No one wants to know the story of how we ended up crushing on each other.
I did the most sensible thing I could think of at the time. I asked her out on a date using my Librarian Alternate Identity, Lai for short. But whoopsie-doopsie! Looks like the hacker she loathes so much kidnapped him, and now it's up to the heroine to rescue her beloved!
And it begins now, as I hide myself in a closet. My phone was connected to the cameras with microphones so I had no trouble watching this unfold.
Today, as usual, she entered the library she frequented, but not as her civilian identity. She found the library barren. And most importantly...
Her favorite student librarian wasn't there.
"Curse that hacker!" I heard her say as she slammed her fist on a nearby shelf. "'The tables will turn, I will ruin YOUR date'? That's so creepy! How did he even find out about the boy I like? This is so frustrating!"
She goes straight to the empty counter, and there aren't any of his belongings either. All that's left was a book, and as soon as she touched it, the alarms went off.
This was my cue. I kicked open the door and ran to the counter, bringing with me the take-out snacks I ordered. I placed them on the counter and pushed the secret button on the book to turn the alarms off.
It was her turn now. She crossed her arms and ranted loudly: "What's the meaning of this? Where's Lai?!"
I smiled. I brushed my hair up and put on some glasses. "Here you go."
The look on her face was priceless.
&#x200B;
//Second comment on this subreddit! I hope you enjoyed reading as much as I enjoyed writing! ~~Sorry they don't have names hahaha.~~ The girl is named Tele, and the boy is named "Lai" (real name unknown for now) Might make this a rom-com series if I have the time.
EDIT: [here's a sketch of Lai and Tele that I thought you might enjoy.](https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/423083600053927938/549088955908358154/Lai_and_Tele_rWritingPrompts.png)
|
I used to be a super villain, but facing off against hero’s wasn’t something indirectly did. With my power I did best with quiet operations. I can manipulate my own body. I usually use this for changing my appearance, but I can manipulate my muscles for combat. However, recently I haven’t been doing that as much. Recently I have just been trying to go out with my girlfriend, Camila. It’s been six months since I had gone out with her on a normal date and it was our fifth anniversary, so I decided to do something special. She knows what I do, in fact that was what happened on our third anniversary, and probably why she hasn’t left me yet.
“We really don’t need to do this,” Camila said.
“No really, it’s fine. I changed my appearance so even if one of them walk by while in their normal life they won’t be able to tell. Let’s just enjoy ourselves for once and not post about our date on social media. As long as True-sight is out their they will know it’s me even if I became a women.” I said
Our food came and we were having a really fun and enjoyable dinner. We were having dessert and I asked for the bill when a certain someone came barging through the door. It was a man dressed in a black and red leotard and a metallic fanged mask. It was Pyrus a super villain with super strength and pyrokinesis. “Alright all of you on the ground now!!” He yelled.
“Get down and post a picture of our date, I’ll distract him,” I told Camila
“But you’ll get hurt, if not by him than the heroes who come to stop you,” She said
“I prefer that over you getting hurt for what I do any day, besides I have a plan” I said as I changed my form and walked up to Pyrus.
“I said on the ground, or do you want an early cremation,” He snarled at me.
“Well,” I began to say before being interrupted by a new person barging in followed by two other people.
“Because now your a hostage,” Pyrus snarled at me as he grabbed me.
I then got a better look at the three heroes. The one in the front was Hydros, Pyrus’s nemesis. The two flanking him were his sidekicks, Psyche and Knuckle, two twins who had psychokinesis and super strength respectively. “Let that hostage go Pyrus or do I need to remind you why I’m called Hydros” Hydros proclaimed loudly.
“Is it the best water based pun you could come up with, because if so you are terrible” Pyrus laughed “If you take one step closer I am going to fry this hostage!” As he said it he flared up his hand and I could feel the fire itself.
“And if you do it matters not, one less villain for us to worry about” True-Sight said as he appeared behind Hydros. “That is no civilian that is Face, the shapeshifter. Approach as you please Hydros,”
I felt the heat go away as the ground came closer to my face until I fell onto the floor. “That changes nothing I still have other hostages,” Pyrus said.
I think I’m just going to stay on the ground and wait until Pyrus and Hydros fight them I’m going to sneak out of here. Then I heard Camila scream. “Now all of you leave or the woman gets it,” Pyrus yelled. I turned my head and saw him holding Camila with fire bursting from one of his hands.
He was turned away from me so I silently got up and slowly approached him. Using my power I increased my muscle’s mass and power by 50%. “Unhand her now.” I commanded.
“Or else what,” Pyrus said. “If you want her so much then you should realize I can kill her at any moment. Crush her neck, burn her alive, or many more fire or strength related methods,”
While he was delivering this monologue I brought my hand up to the shoulder of the arm holding Camila and I crushed it. As Pyrus howled in pain his grip loosened on Camila and I grabbed the rest of the arm and held it behind his back giving Camila the chance to escape. Pyrus then grabbed my head with his other hand and I felt it getting warmer and warmer until that felling was replace by wetness. I felt my body be lifted off of Pyrus in True-Sights signature telekinetic fashion and I was slammed against a booth.
“Looks like you did all the work for us. To thank you maybe I will see about lowering your prison sentence” True-Sight said as he was hovering over me. “But when you get out you’ll probably go back to your villainous ways.”
“Wait, don’t hurt him,” Camila cried as she ran over to my side.
“I’m fine Camila, but are you okay. That’s all that matters to me,” I say
“Yes I’m fine, but now your going to go away and I may never see you again”
“Don’t worry he’s not dangerous enough to go to a super prison, just a maximum watch normal prison. But if he keeps with his robbing he may go for life”
“Don’t worry Norton I am not going back to that life, I think maybe I’ll try heroism.”
“Kept me waiting long enough, brother,”
| 2019-02-23T07:17:19
| 2019-02-23T07:15:35
| 43
| 25
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[WP] Write an over-the-top background story for an early video game that didn't have a narritive. Ex. Pong, Asteriods, Pacman
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What has my life come to? Once upon a time I had had a home, a wife, a career. Now look at me, I've hit rock bottom, backstabbing, deceitful and shady.
Running the streets all night, addicted to pills, haunted by the ghosts of my past. Always looking for my next score, never resting. I try to fight my way out of this life, but every time I think I've found a way out I just end up on the other side of town. It's like I belong to the city, I belong to the night; living in a river of darkness under the neon lights.
Sometimes my demons catch me, sometimes I score big and beat them instead. Sometimes the streets are just empty lanes in a cold maze, and I just gotta pop one more pill to move on to the next nightmare, but I can't get there no matter how hard I run, every lane full of danger. My heartbeat shows the fear; ghosts appear and fade away.
If only I could eat better, get more fruit in my diet, maybe I could eat so much I could crash this place. Cherries, bananas, anything you got. Player 1, you're my only hope--get me off this boulevard of broken dreams!
/Credit to Eminem, Glenn Frey, Colin Hay, and Green Day (last line of each paragraph, respectively) for helping me overdramatize it.
|
"This is it, you all know me so I'll keep this brief. We have all suffered greatly, so many lives lost. I tell you it ends today. I have watched you, guided you through your training. It has been tough but here we stand. United against our enemy. We have been pushed back into the depths of space time and time again, but not today. They call us invaders, but we will reclaim our homeland. Our brightest minds have formulated a new strategy which will not fail. Today we will be victorious!"
With that a shout rose from the assembled pilots as they ran towards there ships. The General sighed, it pained him to watch such promising lives been thrown away. He watched as engines roared to life. It really was a beautiful sight. His squadron soared into the air. He took a final look at the strategy and climbed aboard the mother ship. This time would be different.
Fires burnt all across the mothership as the general looked out at the decimated remains of his squadron. How could this have happened? the plan was full proof. He watched as the anti air defenses honed in on his position. They launched a salvo straight through their own shields. He looked down at the battle plan the words scrawled across the page. Increase speed, move left to right. It should have worked.
| 2016-02-19T07:03:56
| 2016-02-19T05:31:22
| 54
| 15
|
[WP] "No person shall be executed without their last meal made to their liking." The prisoners know this and make insane requests. You, as the chef for death row, somehow procure the otherworldly ingredients for their meals.
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Number 338462. Bank robber who took hostages and killed them. Said it was an accident. Asked for unicorn flank steak sprinkled with pixie dust served with roasted mandragora. Not mandrake, he wanted the real stuff that could kill its cultivator. Death by electric chair 15 years ago.
Number 448927. Serial killer who had a penchant for people who wore silk. "The Silk Strangler" wasn't a creative name especially since he didn't strangle his victims. Asked for Arcturan Meagdonkey. Someone read a bit much Douglas Adams. Death by injection 5 years ago.
Number 283371. Simple homicide for insurance money. Killed his wife, tried to frame the black neighbor as a botched rape, not knowing the neighbor was a war veteran who had injuries that made it impossible. Finally ran out of appeals and stone walling. Asked for hot wings made from actual demon wings. The Vatican made that an easy one to fulfill. Death by injection 3 years ago.
When the warden offered you a position challenging your skill as not only a chef but a procurer of only the finest ingredients, you took him up on the challenge. These death row inmates made for some of the most challenging meals. And they couldn't be sent on their way with a good meal. Almost a guilty pleasure, you looked forward to the next request each time someone else was to be executed.
But this latest one... This one didn't make sense.
With the warden's permission and escorted by guards, you approached the inmate's cell. "Number 619188?"
The lone occupant looked up wearily. "Yeah? Who're you?"
"I'm the chef for Death Row. And I'm a little puzzled at your request."
619188 looked confused. "Sorry? I mean, I didn't think it was difficult."
"Let me ask you something, you know how this works right? You don't go until you've had your last meal."
"Yeah, I understood that quite clear."
"So I'm surprised your request is a little simple."
619188 looked even more confused. "I don't understand. Can I not have my last meal or something?"
"I'm worried someone is messing with the system. So I came to make sure your order is correct."
"Tomato soup with grilled cheese."
619188 said exactly what you had gotten. You asked the guard several times if that's what he wanted. The guard said that's what he had been told. This... this was unprecedented.
When you observed the others having their last meal and saw before them the concoctions they ordered, you saw a look of defeat. Their last attempt to screw the system, or at least circumvent it, failing with delicious flavor. (Except that demon wing one. Cooked up nice but tasted like sin.)
Here before you was a man already defeated. His spirit crushed. You came here because you weren't being challenged. He was here because he didn't care anymore.
It was the last meal you cooked in that prison. It wasn't a fancy soup made from tomatoes grown on an alien world. It didn't use cheese that aged under the moonlight of a Tibetan monastery. It was simple.
You delivered the meal to 619188 and, for a brief moment, he smiled as if reminded of a better time. You quit after that, feeling that your skills had finally been tested and found wanting. Not because of a lack of talent, but because of a lack of humanity.
|
[Poem]
Eric crossed the world 12 times
To space twas only 3
Went to the ocean bottom twice
Many wonders would he see
A wing of bat, a claw of dove
A rock from outer space
A half a pound of dino meat
With toenails he will lace
He mixed it up with salmon broth
And 30 pounds of veal
He made the stew and gave it to
The prisoner for her meal
She drank a sip and realized
That they ignored her pleas
Eric had went many miles
But he forgot the cheese
| 2020-02-19T08:32:16
| 2020-02-19T08:31:34
| 429
| 85
|
[WP] Magic exists, however with a catch. Everyone can only use magic the way they expect magic to function. Harry Potter fans MUST do weird wand waving while Call of Cthulhu players all end up going insane. Write an interaction or duel between two vastly different magic users.
Honestly if magic did exist in our world, this is how I’d expect it to function to please everyone
—-
Wow front page! That’s actually amazing
|
The setting for the battle was a bleak one: a playground, cold and abandoned. Save for two warriors, not a soul was visible in the area.
One of these warriors was truly a fearsome creature, by looks. Abraham was formerly a well-mannered man of little consequence, but upon discovering his new god and devoting himself to them, he gained immeasurable power. Now, he stood atop the wood chips of the playground, a 10 foot tall behemoth with a dog's head, four arms tipped with claws, flesh of living stone. He wore armor composed of brilliant light, and emitted an aura of divine judgment, not to speak of the dozens of magics that held no visible sign.
This was his constant state, now. Abraham had studied well the ancient texts, and had been rewarded for his efforts. Abraham had grown used to the stares and judgmental whispers. He cared not, for he was a divine protector now, burdened with a responsibility heavier than anything he had known before.
Standing across from him was a child, no more than 7 years old. Quite a mismatched sight, but the child regarded Abraham not with fear, but with annoyance.
"So, our eternal struggle continues." Abraham's voice rang out in layered tones as he approached the child.
"Only because you're so dumb!" The child took an aggressive pose, full of openings. Abraham noticed them, but the look of confidence on the boy's face kept him at bay.
"You know I must bring you in, Dark Lord. Let us begin."
With that, Abraham rushed towards the child, claws at the ready. The child threw a lazy punch, yet it pierced Abraham's defenses, knocking him to the ground. He put his arms under him and slowly lifted himself up, looking pained. "I see your powers are as strong as ever."
The child grinned, looking triumphant. "I'm the strongest in the land, duh!"
Abraham looked up a the child with a pitiable face. "Will you spare me, dark one?"
The child looked at him for a moment, seeming to think hard. "I will. But know that I'm the boss, okay? I can make your powers go away any time I want!" The child snapped his fingers, and Abraham was instantly a man again, completely average in every way.
Abraham let out a defeated sigh, rising to a knee. "Then, how may I serve you, mightiest warrior?"
The child considered it. "Ice cream!"
Abraham laughed, standing up. "Okay, but only if your mom is fine with it."
The two locked hands and departed. Abraham sighed to himself as they walked; it would take two days to put all of his spells back in place, but dismissing them was a small cost to see his girlfriend's son smile.
----
First time writing in years, I know the formatting is wrong but bear with me.
|
I stalked ahead, fully aware of the traits of the devastating weapons loaded in my sack and pockets. I tried to recall the symbols I’d need to create any number of permutations. My opponent stared me down and began to chant. I huff at her, with her clumsily thick blue robes and childish conical hat. I’ve trained my body and mind constantly for years.
I can no doubt dodge whatever she throws at me from the end of her plea with whatever nonsensical deity for power. I kneel down and swiftly complete the outer circle, sketch a series of small, sharp angles inside, and write down a single symbol in the center - a triangle pointed towards me, with a horizontal line across it. My materials are simple, and so is my required circle.
She cries out “Bolt!” and I roll over my circle, narrowly avoiding a narrow strip of lightning from the sky. She huffs, aware that whatever comes next, she must move as swiftly as possible, and pants for breath, watching me suspiciously as I place my left hand under the flap of my sack and my right into the center of the circle, leaning forward to pour out sand into the circle. I focus on the form of the silica and force a powerful handle out of the pile, ending with a fearsome, jagged point of brittle, semi-fluid flint. The handle glistens in an ethereal rainbow as the tip melds out of the end, black as pitch, deadly and primitive.
I stumble forward as my foe shrieks “FIRE!!” It catches on my trousers and begins searing through the thin material. I rapidly unzip my left leg and kick it off in a panic, trying not to warp or shatter my (admittedly fanciful) spear. I dump a pile of sand from my sack onto the leg, stifling the dancing flames as I hear more chanting begin. How is she doing this so quickly? I hear her speaking quite openly to Shiva as I close in. Whatever she’s up to, I need to make my move properly.
I stab towards her side, managing to cut open a sleeve on her robe, letting out a trickle of blood from her arm, but she doesn’t respond, continuing her prayers to bring me a “cold death.” I don’t want to know what that means and strike with the butt of my spear to her midsection. She tears up, gasping in pain, buckling down to her knees and then picks up right where she had been a second ago, more quietly. I don’t have time to think, and begin beating and cutting at her, trying to use non-deadly force. After all, this girl is clearly childish, and looks terribly young now that I knocked off that silly hat of hers. She stubbornly cries out, “BLIZZAGA!” My entire being numbs as the cold gathers around my body, moisture from the air and my sweat forming solid ice as I struggle to breathe. Everything... is...
*The girl panted and cried from pain, bruises and cuts covering her petite frame. Her opponent stood before her, vanquished, the strange and warped spear crumbling into sand. “Oh, just great. This damn sand will stick everywhere!” She struggled to maintain consciousness as she staggered to her feet, leaning heavily on her oak staff for support. “Hey, Big Brother... if you ever see this...” the mage hobbled away, letting her spell dissolve together with her imaginings of the Winter. “Try telling me again how useless magic is...” She sighed and decided it was probably best to call a couple of her friends. *
| 2018-10-16T00:05:09
| 2018-10-15T22:07:03
| 48
| 26
|
[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
|
Hey Matt,
I know you're hurting. I know you're struggling. You tell yourself you can do it, you're going to change the world, you're going to do this and that and you end up doing it. You know telling yourself that its hard and painful isn't going to help so you tell yourself its easy and that you can do it. I get it, you say you do something and you plow forward to do it. BUT right now, please just let yourself bask in the moment-- this moemnt right here of raw emotino. This is you, this is where you're at right now. It hurts and you still loved her but you needed to let go of this one. She wasnt ready. There was too much on the line with this one. Matt, I know you loved her. You gave it your 100% and you can't say that about some things, but know that you did everything you possibly could--so please let her go for the sake of you. Times are rough. but they will get better. i promise you that. so please. let yourself free.
Love,
Yourself
|
Dear Jesus - Your birthday is coming up. YAY! 2015 has been great to me. I finally realized this year that you're not real. Who am I actually addressing this letter to then? Oh well. Thanks for taking up all of my teens and 20s with indoctrinated lies that kept me from many experiences that in retrospect I would have preferred to have had much sooner. Very kind of You. Sincerely - Born Again Deconvert
| 2015-12-05T15:02:39
| 2015-12-05T14:47:35
| 31
| 22
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[WP] "Welcome. You're dead. Congrats. Door to Heaven's on the left. Door to Hell is on the right. Go ahead and pick, but just know that the decision is final." The figure sitting at the desk spoke, stifling a yawn and not looking up from their book.
|
"Welcome. You're dead. Congrats. Door to Heaven's on the left. Door to Hell is on the right. Go ahead and pick, but just know that the decision is final."
"I'm Dead?"
"Yes."
"And you give me a choice between heaven or hell."
"Yes."
"Is this a trap?"
"No."
One hotel lobby. Two elevators. Two doors. Two Options. The only distinction between them is the nameplate above the door frame. It seems like a trap.
"How long have you been here."
The Receptionist stares at me as he adjusts his glasses.
"For a very long time."
"Are you human."
His stare gets colder.
"Well, Are you?"
"Its none of your business. Just choose."
"Have you ever been to hell." He shakes his head No. "Heaven?" He continues shaking his head.
"Did you ever wonder what its like?" I look at him. He isn't.
"After so long, you learn not to care."
"Don't you wonder. Don't you ever pondered to yourself."
"I am only one in millions of beings that give every dead soul an option." I sigh. where is his curiosity? where is his wonder?
"Where do you think I belong."
The receptionist pulls a paper out from under the desk.
"You're average. You've done bad things. You've done good things. Your Average."
"That doesn't answer my question." He suddenly stands up at glares at me.
"I don't know! I don't decide your value! Just Choose! Leave Me!" I lean in closer to him.
"What if you could choose!" He falls silent. I walk around his desk and stand next to him.
"Trust me, I won't be able to leave." He says. "It doesn't matter what you do."
Chains wrap around his legs. Held in place by a large key lock.
A key appears in my hand. A sign. I hold it up to his face.
"This is a sign. You have a choice now. Choose." He looks away from me. I unlock his chains.
Large iron bars barricade the two elevators, preventing anyone from entering.
"Why would you do this?" He asks.
"Have you ever had a choice." He shakes his head no.
"Are you human." He stops and thinks.
"A long time ago, but yes."
"You deserve a choice. I don't deserve heaven but I don't deserve hell. This is my last good act. Maybe someone like me will come to free me." He looks at me, and then stands up. He looks at me worried.
"No one will."
"Its fine. Decide. Two doors, Two choices." I lift up the chains and wrap them around my legs. And I replace the lock. Suddenly, it tightens. My legs become constricted and become held in place. The iron bars lift up from the two elevators.
"Why"
"Because you deserve better" He pauses, standing in front of my reception desk.
"Thank You." He walks to the right. I sigh
"Its your choice." He enters the elevator.
The doors slowly close and the lobby entrance opens.
"WHERE AM I" The words come to my head.
"Welcome. You're dead. Congrats. Door to Heaven's on the left. Door to Hell is on the right. Go ahead and pick, but just know that the decision is final."
|
“But...which do I choose...?” I asked, not realizing that this is what I would find on the other side.
“Either. That’s why I gave you the option when you got here.” Said the figure at the desk, pearly annoyed that’s I hadn’t already chosen.
I stood for a moment. *It should be obvious, shouldn’t it?* However, no one from before had ever said that there would be a choice. And now, facing this decision, I couldn’t move a muscle (or whatever I was made up of at this point).
I took a moment and looked around. I one else was in sight. There was any sign of another other being, just me and...wait a minute, I never got their name!
“Um... excuse me.” I sheepishly mumble yo the figure at the table. “What’s your name?”
He looks up at me from his book, with a look that conveys plainly that he cannot believe that I am still standing before him.
“Are the rules too difficult for you to understand?”
“No, I just...”
“There are two doors in front of you. See? As I explained when you got here, one leads to Heaven, the other Hell. Most people just walk through one right away, leaving me to my book!” The last word spoken in a clearly exhausted tone, even though I had only been there a few minutes.
“Okay, well how do they decide?”
“I don’t know! They just walk forward. No one else seems to have a problem with it.”
“I’m sorry but back on Earth, or in life, or whatever you want to call it, I was very indecisive. Most nights I got into an argument with my wife about what we were going to have for dinner because I couldn’t decide what I wanted.”
“That’s a very touching story. However, I am in the middle of something far more interesting, so if you’d please choose that would be great and I can get back to my book.”
I stood there staring from him to the door on the left, then the door on the right, then back to him.
“I’ll go left! I was a pretty good person, so I think that’s the right decision. Although, I did have secrets when I died. Stuff I should have said to people that would have changed things between us.”
*sorry, I can’t write anymore, work is over and I gotta head home, but thanks for sparking something in me. I’ve never written before, you could probably tell, but it was nice to get away for a minute and picture myself in this place. Have a good night everyone!*
| 2019-10-03T17:03:46
| 2019-10-03T16:20:11
| 111
| 11
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[WP] You are a superhero, no one knows about your alter ego. Not even your spouse. You return home tired and disappointed one day after failing to capture your archnemises. You enter your bedroom to find your spouse struggling to get out of the costume of your archnemises.
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Well, shit.
Shit shit shit.
Shit.
I knew my wife was a judge, of course.
But how could I have missed it that she was The Judge, righter of wrongs, my archnemesis?
Judge, jury, and executioner, with only one sentence.
Death.
I probably should've figured out, though. They both wore that stupid RBG collar. How could I not have known? Except for the hood, their robes were identical.
Except that the robes she was hanging in her closet were torn from the fight we'd just had an hour ago.
I stepped back, out of sight. But the cat was right behind me. He hissed.
"Paul? Is that you?"
"Ya, sorry I didn't text," I answered, my brain on autopilot. "I was running late at work. Didn't have time to pick anything up at the store. You want to order something, instead?"
I was playing for time, trying to figure out what to do.
Why did she have to be The Judge? It was like Bruce Wayne going to pick up Selina Kyle for a date, and finding out that she was really Harliquin, instead of Catwoman.
I slipped my go bag off my shoulder and reached inside for my emergency kit. I always have a flashbang and a tangler in there.
After almost twenty-five years of marriage, how could I not have known?
She stepped out of her closet in yoga pants and a t-shirt over a sports bra, what she usually wore around the house. I silently cursed myself for never realizing that it was the perfect thing for The Judge to wear under her robes. I usually wore skintights under my clothes, so that I can slip into my body armor quickly.
I saw her eyes widen, as she noticed the cut on my face, where she'd hit me, driving the edge of my mask into my cheek. Usually the reactive material of my uniform distributes the blow, leaving a red mark that fades quickly, but this time she'd hit me just right.
I could tell she knew that I knew.
She started to say something as I pulled the tangler out of my bag, but she dropped and swept my feet out from under me, then followed it up with a kick. I was dazed.
When my vision cleared, she was leaning over to kiss me on the forehead.
"You know I love you, right? I've known who you were for awhile now, which is why I've been pulling my punches. But I can't let even you stop me. I sentence you to--"
|
"That was you the WHOLE TIME?!" You yelled exhausted and confused. You didnt know what to think. How could you even let this happen.
"What? Nooooo. Definitely not me." The other quickly chimed in. He didn't want anyone to figure out who he really was. And this would only ruin their marriage.
"Then what the fuck did I just walk into?!" You said loudly now cofused. You knew it. You honestly didnt mind, knowing know that it was your lover you had been chasing around. It had all been making sense now. The robberies, the thefts, the chases. He wanted attention. Attention he would get.
The other looks up only to see you come barreling towards him and landing on your bed. It creaked with protest as the covers poofed up around both of you. Your spouse groaned and giggled as he was attacked by kisses all over his face.
So today wasnt too bad of a loss for you at all.
| 2020-10-30T12:35:43
| 2020-10-30T12:14:23
| 23
| 13
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[WP] When people turn 18, they gain the power to summon 1 random thing in the world to their hand, as Thor does to Mjolnir. Summoned people are considered soulmates, and objects as important parts of one's life. When you summon yours, it takes some time, but people are horrified when it arrives...
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The summoning of one's true calling was always meant to be a decision to bind where you would go with life. A doctor may bring a syringe, a police officer a badge, and if your lucky you may pull in a gemstone for wealth. When I called for my object I got none of these.
The large stone slab one stood on to receive his or her object was holy ground. Aside from a priest, everyone stepped on it once and no one would be within a mile radius of it to ensure safety. The slab seemed specifically cold on the eve of the new year that marked my birth.
I reached out a spoke the words that had been ground into me for the last year, "Oh Lord above. Wish me luck above all things as I draw upon your gift." Then with a small knife I was provided I cut my palm and let the blood drip onto the pedestal and reached out for what was rightfully mine...
There was nothing. Not in the first minute. Not in the first hour. Nor the third. In total I waited six before I saw the result. In the mid day sky the sun went dark as a eclipse graced the heavens. No eclipse was forecast for today. No abnormality to cause one. It was then I realized. My object was no sword of a great king. It was no badge for my future. It wasn't anything to help me. No the truth was that my item came wanting only death.
I remember starting to see part of the earth rise into the sky as the moon itself came for me. The summoning had one flaw, once summoned a object will come to it's master and only stops under one condition...there death. Seeing death before my eyes, and not just my own left me with a choice.
Mother, Father, if your reading my final message. I'm sorry I couldn't be a doctor. But i can fix my own mistakes. Goodbye.
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Mother and Father stood nearby, looking expectantly at me as I took my place in the center of the rooming facing the great grandfather clock that command the attention of everyone.
Along the edges of the room waited the rest of our family and friends, all in attendance with me as the hour of my birth; 11:59pm, 18 years ago to the minute, neared. Soon it would be time for my summoning. The moment when all those who upon the hour of adult hood will hold out their hand and have their one thing appear. For some a person appears, this who is destined to be your great soulmate and the love of your life, like when my mother summoned my father. For others it is an object of great importance, integral to their life and identity, like our protector Donar Woodenson, the thunder bringer and guardian of humanity, wielding his mighty hammer.
The seconds ticked away as the lights dimmed and our fiends and family leaned in expectantly, I held out my hand like father had taught me. As I did so I felt the power of the cosmos begin to whirl around me as the hour of my birth arrived! The minute hand moved to 11:59 pm, here goes nothing I thought.
And exactly nothing happened!
Aunts and Uncles looked at each other confused; while my younger Cousin laughed at my misfortune, my face burned with embarrassment as I stared at my empty hand confused. Was I cursed, what had gone wrong?
“An ill omen” tittered my great aunt poppy, as she clucked disapprovingly.
“Nonsense” my father boomed, striding across the floor to me.
“Sometimes it just takes a minute or two, nothing to fret about son” he said as the words wrapped around me in comfort like the arm he placed on my shoulder, “why when I was your age…” he started to say but never got the chance to finish for at that moment the great clock struck midnight, the witching hour and the bells inside the imposing temple to father time played there deep and brassy tune.
Suddenly the room was filled with a surge of power that silenced all murmurs as electricity crackled through the air. It centered on me and my still outstretched hand as my father backed away. I could feel the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end as I felt the anticipation flow through me. The chimes of the clock turned to thunder, and the air in the room was rent by light as strange shapes of no earthly form appeared before my eyes. The room was pervaded by the deep smell of the sea, a not so pleasant smell of rotting fish and decaying seaweed. Then a hellish sound as if a million souls were crying out desperate in their damnation at losing hope. People clapped their hands to there ears, some falling to their knees, struck dumb by the sound.
Then just as suddenly as it had begun, the ordeal was over, before me holding my hand was a creature of unimaginable horror, with the greenish body of a man, the wings of a dragon, the head of an octopus and the eyes of a demon. CTHULHU!!!!
In my abject horror at the monster I had summoned, I tried to dispel this foul creature, yet before this thought could fly from my head, my summoned creation beheld me in its gaze and my soul fled my body in panic, and my consciousness was shattered by madness, rooting me in place, forced to watch as this Doom of an old god struck down my family who were unable to flee, as his very visage drove sanity from their minds and reduced them to mumbling stupor.
With each death, he grew greater, until his hideous form broke through the roof, he bowed down and almost lovingly scooped me, his unwitting parent into his embrace, as he walked forth into the world, to destroy it and awaken his slumbering brothers beyond the veil of this reality. I could only hope that the defender of man will defeat him, but my son has taken away my hope, my fear, my pain, my joy, and my love, an so I am forced to watch the end that I have summoned through eyes that can now only hold Terror.
| 2019-09-18T08:31:42
| 2019-09-18T08:16:27
| 79
| 57
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[WP] Foreshadow the character's death so subtly that I still don't see it coming even though I requested it.
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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.
|
“Daddy, I can’t sleep.”
My daughter’s voice cuts through the fog of sleep that had just started to descend. I reopen my eyes, trying to readjust them to the dim light of the cabin. I look over at my baby girl, and she’s looking over at me. I smile. “Alright, just give daddy a minute.” I twist around for a moment, working at the straps holding me down. It takes a minute, but soon I’m free to float across the room, drifting over to her bunk.
“I can’t sleep,” she says again. She looks over at me. I can tell she’s a little bit guilty about calling me over. But I don’t mind.
“It’s okay, sweetie. Here, I’ve got something that might help.” I reach back over to my bunk, pulling over my tablet. As I turn it on, it bathes the room in a bright white light. I grimace as I shut my eyes and turn down the brightness. As it fades back to a nice dim screen, I open up the sleep inducer that the techs at the launch platform had recommended. I show it to my daughter.
“Now see, this will help you sleep. Just watch the screen for a while.” I leave it floating in front of her, and give it a quick spin, dousing the room in its blue light. She giggles as it twirls around. As her laughter dies down, she looks over at me again.
“But daddy, I don’t want to go to sleep.”
“Oh? Why’s that?”
“Because we’re in *space*, daddy. I want to see *space*.”
I can’t help but feel proud of her. Only eight years old and already wants to see everything. But I know that now isn’t the time. We have a big day ahead of us tomorrow, and she’ll need to get her rest.
“You’ll get to see all the space you want to tomorrow, but you’ll want to be good and rested for it. And ten minutes of sleep isn’t going to cut it.” I can tell that she’s disappointed, but she nods in agreeance. “We’ve only got so much time to sleep though. Only eight hours till wake-up. And you need all of it.”
“Eight hours? That’s so long.”
“It’s not too bad. Let’s do the math. What’s eight times sixty?”
Her face screws up as she tries to remember her times tables. I’d help her, but she never likes that. Hesitantly, she replies, “Forty-eight?”
I smile inwardly. “And the extra ten?”
“Four hundred and eighty!” she proudly proclaims.
“Yep, that’s it! Now that’s not too many minutes, is it? Besides, you’ll be dreaming for most of it. You can dream about space.”
She turns back to the tablet, which has already started to fade to white. But by now we’re both probably too awake to fall asleep. She glances back at me cautiously, probably hoping I won’t be upset if she keeps me up a little longer. I smile again. “What is it sweetie?”
“Daddy, why do we dream?”
I take a second to gather my thoughts, trying to decide how much she’ll understand. But she’s a smart girl, I think she’ll get it.
“Well, it’s the way that our brain organizes our thoughts. We dream about the things we did during the day.” She looks at me, vaguely interested. “All of our memories of the day flare up, and our brain puts them together differently. And sometimes, our brain just makes things up to fill space.” I can tell that I’m boring her now. She’s looking a bit sleepier. I move in for the coup de grace. “And did you know that when we’re dreaming, our eyes move around really quick under our eyelids? It’s called rapid eye movement, or REM.” With a small wave of her hand, she pushes me away. She’s heard enough. I grin. “Just 470 minutes of some REM sleep now, then space.”
As she snuggles into her blanket, I pull the fasteners down over top of her. I push myself back across the room, and into my own bunk. I close my eyes, thinking, “*I even bored myself to sleep*.”
---
I wake suddenly to alarms blaring near my ear. My daughter is across the room, crying, trying to undo her straps. I quickly tear mine off, and fling myself over to help her. She’s panicking.
“Daddy, what’s going on?”
“I don’t know sweetie. We’re going to the control room.” I get the last of the straps off of her, and pull her close to me. “Hold on to daddy now.” I make sure she has a good grip before pulling myself out of our room and into the hallway. The few other passengers on the ship are emerging. Everyone is looking confused. As I push my way towards the command room, an announcement comes out over the intercom.
“Attention passengers. There’s been a coronal mass ejection. The early warning satellites predict impact in three minutes. All passengers follow the lights to the right side of the ship. Close all doors and put any sort of metal barrier you can find between yourselves and the left side of the ship.”
Even in zero gravity, it feels like my heart has dropped out of my chest. I know that this is a worst case scenario. I, and everyone else of board, frantically push ourselves into the cabins that the hall lighting indicated. With the hall clear, I seal the door. My daughter is crying, and I hold onto her tightly.
“Don’t worry sweetie, there’s nothing to be scared of,” I lie. “Daddy’s got you. I’ll keep you safe.” And the last thing sane thing I do is wrap her up, and put myself between her and the radiation.
| 2015-06-03T08:22:01
| 2015-06-03T07:29:26
| 2,420
| 12
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