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timestamp[ns]date 2012-08-08 08:57:01
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[WP] Make up some historical or little-known fact and convince me that it's true
For example, you might try claiming that e-mail was once used primarily for erotica.
|
At the beginning of the 20th Century, when the automobile was still new, gasoline engines were but one of the many technologies vying for dominance. Some early cars were electric, some ran on boilers fueled by burning coal or wood.
When Henry Ford opened his first factory in Detroit, the tri-state region of Indiana, Michigan, and Ohio was coincidentally taking off as a major player in the nascent dairy farming industry. (Michigan is still one of the top ten dairy producers) Prior to the turn of the century, family farms ruled as the modern process of Pasteurization had not yet existed.
It's a little known fact that Henry Ford kept a sizable herd of cows on a farm just outside of Dearborn for the sole purpose of capturing and using the methane produced as a source of fuel. Several Model T prototypes exist to this day with tanks designed to hold compressed methane gas.
Fortunately, the process proved to be more costly at the time than traditional gasoline. If not, we might still be driving around today in cars powered by cow farts.
 
**EDIT**: I found some photographic proof showing a cow hooked up to a beeswax coated silk bag for methane collection as well as an early prototype of a vehicle with Henry Ford standing next to it. Note the methane tanks on the side of the vehicle near the engine: http://i.imgur.com/3nuezWc.jpg
|
The European Union is a series of 28 states and external alliances, created by the Treaty of Rome in the 1950s. Before that it was composed of seven founding member states, of which the principal founders were Italy, France, Germany and the United States of America. It was a long source of contention that the United States of America (USA) should be included in a European-based (initially) coal and steel free-trade zone. However, the strongest elements in the USA's favour proved to be their willingness to aid Europe (see Marshall Plan, the) and the fact that the USA had swiftly become one of the powerhouses of the west in terms of churning out automobiles and household appliances.
The involvement of the USA in a European free-trade zone has been further criticised by leading academics (see Craig and De Burca, European Law and the Involvement of the United States of America) mostly for geographical regions. It can be said that the whole of western Europe can fit inside the state of Texas. Furthermore, there's an ocean between Europe and the United States. This has been refuted by other academics (Ibid at 447) who claim that bringing the 'largeness' of American tradition to Europe can 'only be a good thing.'
NATO and the proposed European Defence Committee (which failed to materialise in the midst of the Cold War) were therefore initially proposed and later funded by American money and German politicians often like to downplay the US' contribution to bailing the PIIGS countries out of crippling recession in the mid 2010s.
To conclude on America's role in the European Union; it would be a gross injustice to suggest that America has been anything less than totally involved in the European sphere of influence, despite fierce contention from its critics.
| 2015-01-21T08:09:34
| 2015-01-21T07:57:14
| 37
| 19
|
[WP] You run a tattoo parlor. Every couple of weeks, the same customer comes in, always requesting the same tattoo: an additional tally mark on an ever-growing cluster of tally marks.
|
((First response, hope everyone enjoys!))
"'Nother, Chief."
We had our routine. He came in, nodded at me, and went and sat down in his favorite chair. He always had an appointment, of course, but always that same greeting, his voice never changing, cigarettes and kindness over neat whiskey.
He was a grizzled old bear, but in surprisingly good shape; under that flannel shirt he almost always wore lurked well-maintained, lithe muscle. I knew his arms well, and his legs; I'd lost count of his marks a while ago.
"Arm this time."
I nodded and put on the gloves. I finally decided to screw up my courage and ask, since there wouldn't be a place to put any more lines in a few more sessions without getting rather, ahem, *personal* if you catch my drift. "Y' know," I began over the hum of the needle after whetting it with pitch blank ink, "Y' never have explained these to me. And I think I lost track of 'em a while ago."
He let out a soft grunt as I did my art, but didn't respond. "They wanted to live," he finally stated. "Not all, but these ones did. This is how I celebrate, y' see."
I cocked an eyebrow as I finished the black slash covering one of hundreds of rows of groups of tallies on his body, deciding against inquiring further since I could tell by his tone it was something personal.
He paid in cash, like always, and left a ridiculous tip, like always.
____*____
My mind wandered that night about what he meant, my brain almost aching from its gears churning so hard. He'd always been a mystery, my regular, ever since he got his first tally mark on him, right smack over his heart. Never gave his name, never spoke more than a sentence or two, always sat like a statue through the quick work of getting the tally done.
I found myself restless and decided to go for a walk towards the Hoover Street bridge, hoping the water might give me some ideas for nautical tattoos. As I approached, I heard a conversation.
"Please don't do this." A familiar voice, this time concern mixed with the cigarettes and alcohol.
I increased my leisurely stroll to a run in the direction of the voice, realizing it was coming from out over the bridge. In fact, probably right in the middle of it. Putting two and two together, I backed off a bit and hid behind a building at the end of the bridge, slowing my pace again to give him time to talk the other person down.
"I'm so tired," came a young man's voice in reply, far too young-sounding to have the kind of thoughts he was having. "Just let me do this."
"I won't let you without trying to talk you out of it first." His voice was calm, full of concern and what sounded like a lot of experience. "You may never meet the people that care about you, or you may have already met them, but people do care about you. Including me. The pain is very real, but it's temporary. Remember that. *Everything* is temporary but what you're about to do."
There was audible sobbing after a few seconds.
"I can introduce you to some friends. Get you some help. I know life sucks right now, and I can tell by what you want to do that it *really* sucks for you right now in all kinds of ways. But it gets better. I promise. It may not seem like it, but it does."
I heard shuffling noises, then silence for a long time. *Too* long. I was just getting really worried when I heard it:
"C-can you help me back over?"
I turned and headed for my home as quietly as I could after I was sure help wasn't needed. I'd never let the Angel of Hoover Street Bridge know that I knew his identity.
I'd take it to my grave.
And it would be an honor to continue helping him commemorate every life he saved.
|
"What'll it be this time, sweetheart?"
"Hey, Sean, how are you? Can I just get another tally, right where you put the last ones?"
"Mmm."
*This would be around the fifth or sixth time I worked on her. She was a real quiet one, real tall and skinny, too. Like her folks had tied a dumbbell to her legs when she was a kid and just held her over a balcony. Pretty sure she was just outta college, too; what sort of idiot decides to get a couple of tally marks for their first tat? Buncha college kids with too much time on their hands, that's who.*
*Man, I swear, kids these days don't know a goddamn thing. Getting all uppity and whatnot over the stupidest shit, like bathrooms and lives or something like that. Don't make no difference to me if a dyke walks in my bathroom, long as she's got the right equipment and keeps her hands to herself. Fucking kids, man, I can't stand'em. Always bitching about something.*
"Excuse me, Sean, are you alright?"
*Fuck, I zoned out there for a minute.*
"I'm fine, I'm fine, just thinking is all." I coughed a little to cover it up. "Lemme get my stuff warmed up and we'll have you outta here in no time, eh?"
*Something was wrong. Usually whenever I told her we were abouta get started, she'd look up to me with these big, puppy dog eyes and a little grin that swallowed her cheeks. Today, it almost looked like she shirked away from me. Like she was scared of somethin'.*
"Um, uh, Sean?" *Goddammit.*
"What is it, sweetie?" *I swear to God if she starts bawling or trying to tell me the significance of these goddamn tally marks.*
"D-do you, d'you mind if we talk for a little?" *Fuck me with a broomstick.*
"Of course, pumpkin, whadya wanna talk about?" *First I gotta deal with my wife, now this.*
"The tally marks." She looked like she was afraid I was gotta sock her in the jaw, her eyes were terrified. *Where the fuck did the puppy dog eyes go?*
"Y'know, I've always wondered about those. What d'those mean, anyways? You counting down to something? Or counting up?" I rested my leg my stool and stared into her eyes. For a scrawny one, she was quite the looker. She had her hair done real tight in one of them fancy braids, and it was draped across her shoulder. The tip of the thing landed at her chest, like it wanted me to look or somethin'.
"See, that's the thing." *Poor thing looked like she was gonna wet herself. She better hold, if she knows what's good for her. Damn seat almost cost me a thousand bucks, had to get a loan on it and everything. Can you believe that? A loan on a fucking chair. It's a good thing Randall owes me one, that rat-faced fuck, says I can pay'em back whenever.*
I held up my hand all smooth like, like how those crossing guards do when they wanna stop traffic. The cocksuckers. "A-hup hup hup hup hup. Wait just a second there, Missy, you ain't gotta tell me unless you really wanna. Are you sure you wanna tell me?" *Please say no.*
She looked absolutely dedicated to the fact that she was abouta spill her guts to a complete stranger. Didn't even know her name, for Chrissake. "Well, yeah. I have to tell somebody." She was wipin' away tears now, her face was all red and whatnot, snot drooping outta her nose like it was a leaky soft serve machine.
"We got all the time in the world, sweetheart. What is it?" *Wait, isn't this the part in the movies where the girl gushes her heart out and the guy uses this as a chance to fuck her?*
"Well, I, uh, I don't know how to say this," she started stammering between fits of nervous laughter. *Ho boy, here come the water works. No movie tropes today.*
"Take your time." *I swear to God if she says they're about the lives thing.*
"Wow, just, wow. I can't believe I'm saying this, but here it goes." She was a complete mess now, just a hot, stinking mess of tears, runny make up, and snot. *Now I know I've seen* this *before. Wasn't it in that porno Micah let me borrow?*
It was time to lay'er out. I could see Vincent out of the corner of my eye, just loitering outside. *Dammit, Vincent's good money, that punk always has something cheeky he wants done.* "Don't mean to disturb you or anything, babe, but I got my next appointment in ten, so could we wrap this up?"
*That was* definitely *the killing blow. It's now or never for Miss Deeper Meaning.* She sucked in a bunch of air and heaved it out. "These tally marks don't mean anything and I don't want them anymore and I don't know why I got them wait that's a lie I know exactly why I got them I got them because Kennedy and her boyfriend got matching henna on their wrists and then Jasper told me she was doing this thing with the skull and crossbones because of the recent shootings and even Tony, can you believe it? Even Tony was getting tatted for every month we refused to let in the refugees and ugh, I just can't anymore I don't know why all my friends are so great and I'm just kind of here, you know?"
*Jesus fucking Christ, the broad's got some lungs. Phelps' got another thing coming, my God.* "Wait, so what you're telling me is, you got ink permanently etched on your body because you wanted to play 'Keeping up with the Joneses?'"
She wiped the snot and shit off her face with her hoodie sleeve. What she said next, I will never forget. "Don't you mean 'the Kardashians?'"
"Get the fuck outta my shop."
| 2016-07-09T14:05:08
| 2016-07-09T12:12:31
| 93
| 37
|
[WP] The hero and villain are roommates but don't know each other's secret identities. Come up with excuses for each other's injuries and describe a normal day.
|
Once again limping home to my shared apartment after an entirely too predictable battle.
Once again, one of those dumb superheros that everyone sings the praises of waylaid me out of nowhere- stupid registration act, just because I refused to sign it people treat me like a criminal.
Hopefully, I can get home before-
"Hey, Kyle."
Jen. Nice girl, but a a terrible liar. I mean, who falls down a flight of stairs *every day*? And how do you fall down stairs to get two black eyes? She's always coming back to the apartment with some new injury. Of course, I'm one to talk. My excuse for my injuries is that the boxing ring was particularly tough that day. At least that one's plausable, at least in my opinion.
Then again, this time I have a plasma burn on my left cheek. Not sure how to explain that. "Hey Jen."
I unlock the door without glancing her way and beeline it to my room. I hear the front shut as Jen enters, and then I close myself off.
I've had to learn to put on makeup recently. I've gotten good enough that people stop asking me about the injuries every day I go to my real job. Still, this plasma burn... Maybe I can say someone dumped boiling water on me by accident? I'm not skilled enough to fix this.
From the other side of the thin wall, I hear Jen hiss in pain. "Fuck!"
"You okay?" I call, just loud enough to be heard through the wall.
"Yeah, I'm just... I fell down the stairs again. Twisted my ankle and I might have broken a rib."
"Jesus."
"Yeah. I think I'll have to go to the hospital again."
"Heh. Your insurance agent must hate you."
"Yep. I think I'm why most policies have upper limits." Another hiss as she presumably aggrivates one of her injuries. "Are you doing okay?"
Before I have a chance to think about it, my excuse comes out. "Someone spilled boiling water on me. My face is a mess."
"Ouch. Do you need me to show you have to cover it up?"
"Ha. Do you have a lot of experience covering up burns?"
"Actually, yeah. When you work in a chem lab, there's lots of chances to burn yourself. Here, let me grab some things-"
Reluctantly, I step out into the hallway and into the kitchen/dining area. I always feel awkward having her treat my injuries. Why?
When she steps through the door, I can see it again. The sharp blue eyes, the confident pace, the smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes. The echo of someone else. Then she's back to her normal, chirpy self.
She does look pretty closely at the burn though. "Wow, this looks pretty bad. Are you sure it was boiling water? This looks more like a chemical burn than a heat burn."
I shrug. "I don't think anyone cooks with hydrogen sulfide."
"Not yet anyway." She takes a makeup kit out. "Didja see the news?"
"Uh-uh." I almost shake my head before remembering that she would end up smearing podwer all over my nose. "What's up?"
"Looks like Plasma Girl and Phault got into a fight in the middle of the city again."
Yeah. At least I'm not lying, I didn't see it on the news, I was there. Phault, because I can manipulate asphalt. Really useful in a city. "Mmm?"
"PG was apparently patrolling around when she found Phault tying someone up with the road. She swooped in and saved the man, but Phault managed to get away."
"Wonder why Phault was tying the guy up?" I manage to keep my voice neutral.
"Oh, turns out he had been planning on hurting himself, but the whole experience made him realize how scared he was to die."
"Yeah?"
"Mmhmm. He's in psychiatric care now."
"That's good."
Jen shifts uncomfortably, obviously trying to get her rib into a better position. "Do you think Phault will ever sign the paperwork to be an official hero?"
This is a debate we have often. Freedom vs security. Jen's in favor security, I'm happier with free. We never attack each other with it, but we have the conversation every other week.
I shrug. "How would I know what a villian thinks?"
She winces. "Ah, no, you know he's not that bad. Just... Misguided. Before the registration thing, he was up there with PG, wasn't he?" Once more, she attempts to shift her body to avoid hurting herself further.
"Look, you should go to the hospital. You can't even sit still." I point out. "My face can wait."
"You say that, but with that face people will ask questions. If I do this, you can at least drag me to the hospital afterwards and provide me an alibi."
I pretend to be shocked. "You? Lying to authorities? Hell must have frozen over."
"Ha."
She finished the makeup in silence. After that, I drive her to the hospital, and pointedly ignore how they move her to the "special" wing when they think I'm not looking. Just like I ignore the way my asphalt pillar slammed into Plasma Girl and now Jen has a broken rib. The same way I ignore the fact that I grabbed PG's ankle and threw her into the side of a building.
The same way Jen ignored the plasma burn on my face, only the next in a series of plasma related injuries.
I walk back to my car, light myself a cigarette, and breath out a cloud of smoke.
You ignore a lot when paying attention hurts.
|
I locked the door behind me as I headed out of my apartment. Even if I spent the night fighting with Doxx, I still had classes to get to.
Last night had been a close one: Doxx had infiltrated an industrial warehouse with a shipment of phones and had been installing... *something* into them. Not going to lie, I really didn't understand the techno-jargon he threw at me during his villain monologue. Pretty sure he knew it. Pretty sure that's why he did it.
Pretty sure that next time I'm just going to shoot him when he starts.
In the knee. With a blunt-tip. I'm an exasperated hero, not an anti-hero.
Still. The fight ended up with me getting flung out a window, and him getting shot a few more times than I care to admit.
Dad would kill me if he knew I was wasting bullets. But it's not like Doxx stands still, and he seems to have improved the armor in his body suit each time. If I didn't know better, I'd say he actually had some sort of kinetic absorption powers, but he still gets hurt when I punch him.
Which also happened last night. In both directions.
"Hey!"
I rammed into the side of someone walking in front of the stairs. To be fair, I haven't had my coffee yet. "Oh, geez, sorry!"
Oh God. It's Drake. Mr. Too Cool for Anybody in This Building. Mr. I Have Way Too Many Muscles For A Guy Who Doesn't Go Anywhere But Work. Mr. Have You Seen My David Tennant Hair. Which he was currently running a hand through.
Fuck. Maybe I *should* take Beth up on her night on the town.
He waved me off though. "It's fine, whatever. Just be more careful next time." He started to walk away before turning back, looking up from his phone with those golden brown eyes of his. Like the woods at home at sunset.
Damn it, Britt, don't be crushing on a jerk just because there's nobody else available.
He was speaking, though. "What happened to your face?"
"My face...?" I touched my cheek. Oh, right. The scratches. "Practicing breaking boxes with my head last night at the dojo. Kinda missed." That's when I notice the bruise on *his* cheek. "What about you?"
"This? Oh, had a D&D game last night. Things got heated."
"...that seems a bit much for a game."
"You haven't played before, have you? Folks get passionate when their characters die. See ya." He shook his head and walked back towards his room, head bent over his phone again.
There was a bruise the size of one of my blunt-tips on his neck. Right where I'd last shot Doxx last night.
It couldn't be, right?
***
Kind of a prequel to this: [https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/95cln5/wp\_youre\_a\_supervillain\_but\_you\_cant\_do\_crime/e3rxwjp/?context=3](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/95cln5/wp_youre_a_supervillain_but_you_cant_do_crime/e3rxwjp/?context=3)
| 2018-08-08T05:58:11
| 2018-08-08T05:52:21
| 39
| 19
|
[WP] As a young wizard you uncovered an old spell that resurrects one of your eldest ancestor. You do so in curiosity, only to face one of the most feared creature the world ever experienced thousands of years ago. The creature recognizes you as its descendant while you stare at it in disbelief.
|
"Raise the dead," they said, "It'll be fun,' they said.
Ok, they never said that. The one thing they did say was never to experiment with necromancy. Surely, resurrection didn't count though, right? That's animating skeletons and liches and stuff. This should be a positive thing, at any rate.
I guess it helps to know who or what you're resurrecting, though.
Magic is hereditary, and while nobody knows exactly where it began, and sometimes an anomaly does pop up, for the most part magic runs in the blood, and it's that simple. As such family lineages go back at least a few hundred years for most, a thousand or so for a few select families. Know someone who was "descended from Charlemagne"? Chances are they're magic. Or full of it.
In any case, nobody's lineages go back much past that, and right now you were sincerely wishing they did. With a few fateful words you had brought back to the world something that should have stayed dead - that you wished had. And it was sizing you up.
Sanavar, The End of Hope, among other epithets, stood before you, and when they spoke, your marrow chilled in your bones. "Greetings, my progeny." The words were... felt, not heard. "You are powerful for one so young."
Stammering you answered, not exactly knowing what you'd say as the words dribbled out. "Thank you, I'm a bit of a natural" you said, already feeling like being too proud of your accomplishments today is a mistake. Still, you babbled a bit because you knew who you were speaking to, and didn't know what else to say. "I mean, I study whatever I can get my hands on." The spell you'd pulled out from the abandoned magical library lingered in your mind. Casting your eyes to the floor, if only to break the gaze of Sanavar, you fumbled behind you to bring the scroll forward, the thought of a way to undo this passes over your mind.
Seizing upon the dusty parchment and bringing it around in front of you, you look up and suddenly realize Sanavar towers directly in front of you, and they reach out and snatch your wrist. "Old magic indeed," a voice of flame and smoke reverberates in your mind as they appraise the scroll, as your wrist feels frozen and smoldering at once. "This place is a source of immense power, and you were wise to try this ritual here. By our wisdom we shall make of you our Emissary to this world, and you shall bring them under my heel. Kneel, progeny."
Wrist still in an iron grip, you do as commanded. A hand that seems to shimmer in reality, there and not, reaches out to touch your forehead. Your free hand behind you, and with all your concentration, you make a symbol that your master taught you, something to be used in direst emergency. Finishing not a moment too soon, you feel an inrush of seeming incomprehensible thought, and the realm around you swims and shifts.
"Rise," commands the voice of terror. Shakily clambering to stand, your vision swims violently in a manner you've never contemplated. Behind the unholy being a light so bright it causes you disorientation and pain explodes into view, a luminous being emerges. Hearing your name as if from a great distance you wince and double over, only feeling the aftermath of what happened.
Sanavar roared as the blast of magic impacted them, and you felt the blastwave washed past you. Glimpsing him from between Sanavar's legs, your old master and grand master of your order completed another spell lifting Sanavar off the ground and into the wall behind you. Scrambling to your feet you summon what energy you have and steady yourself as Sanavar prepared to counter attack.
Remembering a spell you'd once read through the brain fog, your master's blast was caught and deflected by Sanavar as if he'd sent a training flare. Adrenaline slowed your perception of time and seeing an opening, you unleash a swarm of razor-like voids in space. It tore at Sanavar's flesh, and over the sound of pain, in your mind you hear that darkest voice in rage and shock, "You dare to attack with my own magic, progeny!?!"
Mid summon, your master was staring at you in something between appraisal and horror. Focusing to clear your mind and appreciating what had just been said, you realize you never studied that spell, or even heard of it.
Like a splinter in your mind, a spell calls to you. A brief flick of your wrist sharpens your recollection, the memory of the scroll you'd had before clarifies. Sanavar, seeing the curl of your lip, takes a defensive stance, ready to deflect your spell. A complex twisting produces a burst of electricity in the air. Directing your motion directly at The End of Hope, the deflecting spell starts, but stops as quickly as it started. A gentle gust of wind enters the room through boarded up windows, and Sanavar fades to mist.
"Master, I..."
"We will talk about this," he says sharply, but then, softening, "after some rest."
"And much more," you think to yourself, without meaning to.
Your master's eyes widen in shock.
|
I just stood there, mouth a gape, staring with unbelieving eyes at the creature before me. It was as massive as it was terrifying, being 6 foot tall myself, it was easily twice my size. It had dark grey skin, almost like that of a rhino or elephant, but for all it's size it's head seemed almost disproportionately small, and with no visible neck. For being twice as tall it had too have been at least 4 or 5 times heavier, arms and legs like tree trunks, and a torso like one of those flat faced semi-trucks. By far the most terrifying part though were the eyes, not to mention the complete lack of any visible mouth or nose. It had four eyes, one pair where you would think eyes should be, and one pair being set a little closer to where one would think the creatures' ears would be. There was no white to it's eyes, just darkness, black in the center and dark shades of gray fading away from where I was sure the pupil was.
There was no doubt that the creature was looking at me though, it's gaze not quite looking me in the eye, but piercing, as if it were trying to see behind me, and it was quite unsettling. I had read about the creature only briefly, texts that even mention it were scarce and mostly in volumes speaking of mythologies. Images of it were scarcer still, but the memory of the few times I had seen them had certainly stuck. Those texts never gave a name, only referring to it as The Destroyer. In the ancient myths, it was believed to have been responsible for the razing of all of Atlantis.
Completely frozen in fear, I still just stood there staring at it, wondering where I had gone wrong in casting the spell. It was old magic and translation took a fair bit of time, but it was still fairly straight forward. The only real difficulty being finding the dragon scale needed for the fire. Then, in a low voice, I heard odd sounding words that seemed to be coming from the beast, though from where exactly I had no idea. When the sounds stopped, still utterly terrified, I could barely summon the courage to raise my hands and shoulders in an obvious state of confusion. I saw it's head tilt to the side a little and it's horrifying dark eyes somehow visibly narrowed. It was almost ten feet away, but with one step it closed the distance immediately and held out it's giant hand in front of my face. Flinching backwards a bit when it suddenly put forth one finger and reached to touch my head. The finger made contact with my left temple, and it was warm, almost hot. The sensation that followed was by far the most unsettling part yet, it was like when you're half asleep and you think you're falling, awakening in terror only to realize your still laying down. It was like that, but in slow motion and with the added twist of having the sensation of something trying to pull you from your body.
Lasting only a few long moments, the relief I felt when it pulled away was immeasurable. The monster took a half step back and raised it's hands to the sky, slowly lowering it's hands palm down, as if it were doing some kind of tai chai breathing exercise. Again, in a trance of complete fear, I was convinced it was going to cast some kind of spell and render untold destruction all around. It was odd though, cause no such spell came forth, and as strange as it was, it almost seemed to be shrinking. Suddenly the light bulb in my brain came on. It w*as* getting smaller, but not only that, there were other curiosities happening at the same time. It's skin and eyes seemed to be getting lighter and it even looked as though it's eyes closer to the ear area were moving closer to where the more normally placed eyes were.
Right about when it was only about a foot taller than me was when things really started to get weird. The rear eyes got so close to the front ones, they were almost touching, until they were squeezed together and then suddenly merged. Things were starting to grow too, and it was quite unsettling. Hair was starting to grow out of the top of the head along with, what I was assuming was going to be, lips, ears, and a nose. It's chest seemed to be growing oddly too, as if it were becoming pregnant with two tiny, assumingly hideous creatures. Once it was my height it dawned on me what was happening, and I immediately looked away in embarrassment. How could I be so dumb, obviously it was changing into the form of a human woman. Furthermore, how ridiculous was it that I felt embarrassed at this particular moment.
Still looking away, I felt a light tapping on my shoulder. I turned to look over my shoulder very slowly, worried now that I would accidently see too much, stopping when I made eye contact with what turned out to be quite a lovely young woman. "Could I borrow your jacket dear? It seems people these days are quite modest, and I can't tell you how hungry I am right now."
| 2022-12-31T14:34:19
| 2022-12-31T12:20:41
| 25
| 16
|
[WP] As the sole adult on a colonizing ship of embryos, upon planetary arrival you set up the nursery, and program the educational bots with the colonies’ cultural objectives. Then you enter the sleep pod for a 50 years. Reawakening, you discover a typo you made created unusual culture developments.
|
Daughters and Sons
After the planetary wars, destruction of Earth and Mars, and the cultural collapse of the solar system’s network, the united colonies of the Oort Cloud sent out thousands of colonizing ships. Each ship was filled with versatile technologies, embryos for colonization, nanny bots to raise the children, and an adult technician in suspended hibernation to serve as a cultural guide and supervisor for the new worlds.
The ship’s AI was tasked with finding promising planets. Then the technician would awaken, survey the planet. If it was suitable, the medical bay craft of embryos and nanny bots would be deployed, and the technician would remotely program the nanny bots with the cultural objectives for the new society. The technician would then re-enter suspended animation for the next 50 Earth years, only awaking to check the fledgling colony, before moving on to the next habitable planet.
The recent planet was a desert world in a dual sun system. It was low on natural resources and heavy metals, had little wind and geothermal activity, and no oceans for tidal power. Still, its two suns would provide the power the colony required. If the civilization developed as predicted, it could support a large population, and power to the network of planets projected to form over the next millennium. It was a promising planet and be a nice addition to growing network of civilized worlds.
The technician deployed the medical bay craft, and remotely programmed in the directives for the colony—stressing the importance of the planet’s unique energy options. The technician then unfolded the ship’s solar charging sails, and directed the ship’s nano-bots to create the next medical craft for the next planet. The technician then entered the hibernation chamber for the next 50 year span, excited to see the thriving community that would be born, raised by the nanny bots, and grow over the next five decades.
Awakening, the technician was surprised and disappointed. The culture was violent and primitive. They had dismantled the medical bay craft, used their versatile technology for weapons, and they worshiped the inert nanny bots. Worse of all, a closer analysis of the community below showed them to be a patriarchal society that oppressed its female members.
The technician soon realized what happened. There was a typo in the cultural objectives. Seeking to direct the colony towards the solar power, the prime directive which should have read: channel the power of your suns, instead read: channel the power of your sons.
The technician grimaced in annoyance. Patriarchal power imbalances were the flaw that nearly destroyed humanity in the first place. This civilization below was tainted and would never be allowed to join the growing network of planets. In fact, it’s existence would be a threat to humanities’ expansion. Unfortunately, it would have to be destroyed.
The technician deployed the nukes, and turned away from the monitors and wept for what humanity was, and what it had lost. The tears on her cheeks shined like stars.
|
Last thing I did before going into the sleep pod marked X0324441 was writing the "cultural guidelines" - which I knew from the program training were greatly gonna affect the course of the next 50 years. We had recived a .txt file with 100 commandments that were "Not to deviate in any form or shape from the original file". We had recieved extensive training to memorize these 10 commandments in case of a corrupt file. I carefully read through the file to double check for any errors or something along those lines. I used the S key to scroll through the files 100 lines reading the lines as I go. I found myself reading the line "No hitting is allowed." over and over again. Why I dont know, I just got caught in a weird brainloop of sorts. I didnt think much of it before quickly scrolling using the S key again.
As I was about to close the file it said "Are you sure you want to exit without saving?" and per automation I pressed NO.
Now I awake to a society with weird tubes from their anus going up the back to a backpack. For I had accidently saved the 72rd commandment to "No shitting allowed"
"Oh shit" I thought to myself
| 2021-03-20T13:50:08
| 2021-03-20T13:24:15
| 33
| 20
|
[WP] As the latest employee in the world's most prestigious amusement park you are handed a list of rules all employee's must abide to. But it's filled with rather strange rules. What does: "There's only ever one of each mascot inside the park. Check for eyeholes." even mean?
The inspiration for this prompt was the lovely TheRabidFangirl! :)
|
*Rule 18: There is our one of each mascot in the park at the time. If you see a duplicate, check for eyeholes.*
"Oh, very funny." I say, "We've all heard of Abandoned by Disney, guys. Playing into the creepypastas may be a good marketing move, but it doesn't work on us.".
"No, I'm serious." Our manager says, "This is no creepypasta. All Sillyworld mascots do not have eyeholes. It completes the immersion."
"Then how do the see?" The teen next to me asks.
"The employees in mascots see using similar technology to rear view cameras in cars. It lets the employees see without ruining the magic for the guests." Our manager replies.
"You still haven't answered my question." I add. "Are the old suits haunted by murdered children or something?"
"No, no, no." The manager responds, "That was Appleday's problem. We've been having a problem with pranksters and teens breaking in and pretending to be employed by the park, only to mess with the guests and damage property. I'm sure we're all familiar with Logan Paul's *Sneaking into Sillyworld Prank! (Gone wrong)* video." He pronounces the parenthesis in his sentence.
"If you happen to see a mascot costume with eyeholes, call security immediately. We cannot afford another incident like that." Our manager says. Thank you, that'll be all."
My first week was relatively normal. Making food, giving directions, the usual. It was on Saturday that things heated up. I was giving visitors directions to the haunted airport, when I saw a Doctor Cantaloupe suit.
"Oh my God kids, It's Doctor Cantaloupe!" The mom exclaims. The kids shriek in glee.
"Yep!" I replied, "Doctor Cantaloupe is taking a break from his wacky experiments to visit... Wait."
I swear I've seen him today. Just a little bit ago. He was by the lemonade pool, right? At the other end of the park.
Crap.
I rush to the family as they approach the "mascot."
"Ma'am," I say, breathless, "I'm gonna have to ask you to not engage with the mascot."
"But why?" She asks, "He's my kids favorite character!"
"It's park business, ma'am." I explain, "please take these fast passes and call off your children."
She does. I approach the mascot.
I scan the mascot. Eyeholes. Oh boy.
"Listen bud," I say, "just take of the mask, and leave the premises. Then we can all go home ok."
"Never, bitch!" He shouts. Parents gasp in shock. Kisds giggle. Teens pull out their phones.
"Alright, pal, I'm gonna call security, so this is your last chance. Just go away, and everything will be fine." I add, pulling out my phone.
"Not on your Goddamn life!" He roars, "You stupid -".
I wasn't going to sit around and let him run our brand anymore, so I behaved like a rational adult.
And kneed him in the balls.
The recording of his outburst went viral. I'm no longer allowed on the premises. Oh well. I hear universal studios is looking for a security guard.
|
*1. There is only one of each mascot in the entirety of the Park. They have eyeholes, pay attention to this.*
I glanced up, confused by these rules. The first one made no sense, the rest made just about as much sense. I knew about psychics and mages, apparently, they were designated by different borders and emblems on our name badges. Made sense to me, we needed to go in groups of no less than three at any given time, especially to interact with the mascots.
My trainers were two mages, four psych’s, fourteen different supervisors, and thirty-four different team leads. Seemed excessive, but whatever. I was sixteen, and that was the minimum age for the work done here. My friend Katydid recently disappeared, unable to sleep for days, then up and vanished and I seemed to be the only one to remember her. I was always the only one to remember. I was Lilypad and she was Katydid and we were best friends and I missed her. I so terribly missed her. I bit my lip as the handsome technomage, Julian, made eye contact with me.
He had taken a vested interest in me, seeing and smiling at me. He was tall, handsome, and very very very nerdy. His swarthy dark skin, still pale within his inside nerdiness, his handsome sparkling eyes, his thin, wire rimmed glasses, his thick hair. I wanted him to ask me out for a date, but he was nearly twenty and one, so much older than me.
Or group had designated mascots, three of them; dragon, unicorn, and phoenix. I was assigned further, the phoenix group, Julian’s real group. He ran the technology that was supposed to keep us all safe, the pyrotechnics and the warded microchips in our name badges. He had also programmed them to our time-clocks and check-in points. He was ever so clever. Truly, I was enamoured of him and his intellect. I couldn’t get enough of him. He felt amazing.
I shut my eyes for a moment, unable to keep them open fully. When I opened them, it was only him and I. The rule of three. Fuck. Shit. Damn. Oh no. The rules were there for a reason. He held my hand. “Lily? You fainted.” I was on the ground, looking up at the sky. I sighed; this had happened a lot, but a long time ago. “The others left to find you a medimage.” He was so calm and so sweet. Julian didn’t know about me, but that was alright. I had made it to sixteen this time. Sixteen.
Sixteen rules, rules that needed to be obeyed. “Julian, where is our third?” I demanded, confused.
“Shhh, Lily, you fainted,” he soothed me, his voice pulled at me, my mind slipped away.
*Wait, where were his eye holes?*
This is tied to both [this](https://www.reddit.com/r/TheMysticSandbox/comments/7ghz7h/dead_no_memories_tw_death_lily_1/) and [that](https://www.reddit.com/r/TheMysticSandbox/comments/7gi08x/joining_realitys_maintenance_crew/).
If you enjoyed this, please join me at [The Mystic Sandbox](https://www.reddit.com/r/TheMysticSandbox/). Note: NC-17 and NSFW under link
| 2018-06-14T16:53:38
| 2018-06-14T13:59:31
| 35
| 11
|
[WP] “I’m sorry this is the last straw—you’re fired.” Your boss says. “Fine!” You exclaim. “Here’s my badge and gun!” You slam them on the desk but your boss looks confused. “What the fuck? Why do you need a gun and badge when you’re a waiter?”
|
"I fucking knew it, I am the best you got, but you are too scared to keep me because I am the only bastard here with some integrity and you can't control me."
Luis Canon sighed in disbelief, how could such injustice be placed upon him.
"How long have I been here, I have put sweat and blood into my rightful duties, and I put my life on the line every day for years, this is absurd."
He removed his belt, a saddened look as he looked at his firearm for possibly the last time. It was well kept, Luis would perform maintenance on it daily, never neglecting the care for his tool of justice, and always keeping his abilitties with it in peak condition. A surge of rage took over him as he removed his badge, a symbol of pride for him, representative of his values and sacrifice for his community. Luis's explosive temper began to show, in bitter expressions as he contemplated losing not only his job, but his identity.
"I am done with this, this is bullshit and you will sink without me." For the first time, he behaved with no regards for his firearm or badge, as he slammed them into the table in front of his boss."
A bit puzzled, the young manager sitting in front of him uttered.
"Sir, this is a wendy's"
|
The papers, pens and mug that says “World's Best Boss” go flying off and around the desk as the .35 rubber dart gun and plastic badge slam down with a thud again. I picked them up and re-slammed them for dramatic effect.
“*You just can’t handle my gung-ho manner, that’s all*.”
My now former Boss, the world's best, stares at me in disbelief. Annoyance and confusion fighting for the premier spot on his face. His eyes fill with what seems to be tears before I realise he has been looking at me for going on a minute.
Finally the glass mirror shatters as he erupts out of his chair, again the already messed assortment goes flying this way and that.
“*What the hell is wrong with you*?” The words come spilling out as he spills over his desk, grabbing at me in a rage. I snatch up the .35, cock it and pull. What could I do?
The orange translucent dart releases from the barrel and in what can only be described in terms of film magic, the world slows down. The click of the hammer rings out with an echo, the mug grinds against the desk as it begins its journey to the waste bin. Papers, pens, his computer and keyboard begin to pelt the ground like the rain on a cool Autumn day.
The dart gleams in the fluorescent yellow glow of the ceiling lights, coursing towards the forehead of Jerry, my former boss. World's Best.
I fall back a step, my movement slow and flowing. Jerry, red in the face coming towards me with the killing glint that a bull exhibits when the matador is in its crosshairs. Still the contents of the desk pelt the ground as I can hear Jerry’s desk chair toppling and hitting the wall behind.
The world slows more, and now I hear it.The deep, thrombotic moan of this wilder-beast. Jerry, arms outstretched in a v, howling like a mad man. The dart has found its mark. Bang on target. The centre of his forehead, a kill shot.
My world goes dark as time kicks back in. The only thing I hear is a dull thud and a crack as my soul is ejected from my body.
––
“And that’s how you ended up here is it? Shooting a dart at your boss's head?”
“*Yep, that’s about it, more or less*. I am sure there is more but my head is splitting.” I say.
The bearded, finely robed man grins. Light pouring out from around him. “*Fair enough then, in you go*.”
He gestures at me to enter through the Pearly Gates.
“*Oh! Word of advice, don’t try that with the Big Boss in there. His son tried something like that a while back, and let’s just say–it didn’t turn out well for Lucy*.”
| 2022-07-29T12:36:48
| 2022-07-29T09:11:32
| 49
| 27
|
[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
|
1: ‘So, you want an interview? I can imagine. Do you think your report will give me a good light?’
I (Interviewer): ‘No matter what you say, people will want to hear your story. No one knew what happened to #1, and then you show up 20 years after she disappeared. Can you tell us about how you were able to kill her? She’s in the records as one of the most powerful. Invulnerability set her apart to many in the game, and she helped to bring some lawfulness to the system. Then, one day, she was gone. #2 was searching for her or the person who may have killed her for 10 years.’
1: ‘Should I start at the beginning?’
i : ‘Sure. I've got as long as you do’
1: ‘If you knew how long that was, you’d want me to hurry up then.
‘I was raised by my dad. He was #4, until 2 tracked him down. That was when I was 18. My dad could see the future. Not in years mind you, but he could see about 20 minutes ahead of time almost exactly. So he was able to move up the ranks just purely by playing the odds and surviving. Then #1, as you mentioned, brought some order to the chaos and by that time the top 10,000 or so had already killed themselves, and he topped out. Anyway, my dad, I don’t want to say he didn’t love me, but he never let me enjoy life. We were always on the run, always moving. I never had a single friend growing up. But, when a person is ranked as high as he was, and he clearly didn’t deserve to be based on how small his power is, he didn’t have much choice but to be on the run.’
i: ‘Why did 2 kill your dad?’
1: ‘I think he figured out I was 1 by that time, and he almost caught up to me. But my dad made himself a decoy. 2 knew he couldn’t kill 1 while she was still alive, but as soon as he found out I killed her, he knew he could be 1 as soon as he found me. Certain people naturally have an advantage over others. That’s why 2 was never going any higher while 1 was still alive. It doesn’t matter how much damage you do to someone who is externally impervious, you’ll never harm them. I think 2 believed all along that 1 had been killed, and that’s why he sent out the search parties. He told everyone it was because of how important she was, but really it was because he thought he might finally be able to get it.
So when he discovered who I was, and who my father was, he stopped at nothing to kill me. And yes, everyone knows it’s against the rules now, but there’s almost no one who can stop him is there.’
i: ‘And that’s why you asked me here to tell your story, so everyone knows about you before 2 tries to kill you?’
1: ‘Partially. I don’t stand a chance against 2 on my own. I assume he’s confident in that as well. And if he catches me when I’m not ready, he’ll kill me very quickly.’
i: ‘Tell me quickly about your abilities.’
1: ‘I’m able to access a person’s abilities and weaknesses just by looking at them. Even over a TV screen in most cases. It’s interesting, because I often know more about people than they do, yet for most of my life I’ve spoken to almost no one. I believe it’s a variation of my dad, he could see the future and understand it. I can see people and understand them. It’s not the most powerful ability, but it helps keep me alive, and when my dad and I were still together, we could almost be unbeatable. Not unstoppable, but unbeatable.’
i: ‘Is that how you and your dad killed 1?’
1: ‘No. I killed her long before that. See, and this was purely accidental, but she was externally invulnerable. But, internally, she was more fragile than most people. Too fragile to care a baby full term. My dad didn't know that until it was too late. 20 minutes vs 9 months. So, I was born ranked 1, and dad knew everyone would kill me for a chance at that ranking, even if t was illegal.’
i: ‘That’s tragic. And here you are telling your story before 2 finds and kills you. What are you going to do next, go back into hiding and hope to avoid him?’
1: ‘There’s no avoiding 2. I suspect he’ll be here shortly. I called the capital after you arrived and told them of my location.’
i: ‘So this is it, your letting 2 kill you today?’
1: ‘You don’t understand. I needed you here when he arrived, as you are the only person I know who can kill him. So, my question to you is, would you like to be my #2?’
|
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.
| 2014-12-18T22:10:04
| 2014-12-18T13:32:26
| 27
| 16
|
[WP]Your username is the central theme of the writing prompt
|
Inside the library
were stories to be told,
In between each page
every crease and fold.
Inside the library
the quiet was like death,
the shadows moved intensely
the darkness grew in breadth.
Inside the library
the shadows drew near,
the people tried to run
but death was already here.
Inside the library
skeletons lined the halls,
and the rooms echoed
with their lost souls calls.
"I can't see..."
"Where am I?"
"Doctor..."
|
*The Mad Hatter On Tea*
She’d thought it was ecstasy. Cocaine even. She’d never seen anybody get high on tea before. She watched in a mix of fascination and repulsion as he used a fancy razor blade to cut the tea-leaves into small inhalable pieces. He arranged them into three neat little lines and before you could say “What the fu-”, the leaves had disappeared up his nose.
His pupils dilated, his nostrils flared and his mouth stretched out into a grin – the size of which had only been documented in Cheshire cats. Her eyes grew wide with every sudden movement he made. In the blink of an eye he’d go from dancing atop the long wooden table to writhing about madly on the carpeting of moss that lay lazily on the forest floor.
“Ta-da!” He sang gaily, leaping to his feet and ending his mad routine with a deep bow.
“Thank you! Thank you!” He exaggeratedly wiped a tear from his eye and blew his nose loudly into his monogrammed handkerchief. He blew kisses to his imaginary crowd before plonking himself down at the head of the table.
“Mahogany.” He began. He ran his hands along the table fondly.
“Real mahogany. Hand-carved. By my father and his before him.” He sighed contentedly before pulling out a chainsaw from God knows where.
“Good-bye.” He said solemnly before laughing maniacally and pulverising the beautiful table. She leapt to her feet as he tore past her madly – ensuring the destruction of the entire table and the mismatching chairs which were sat around it.
“STOP! What are you doing? That table was carved by your father! And his before him!” She screamed over the deafening roar of the chainsaw. He turned to her and paused momentarily, at a loss for words.
“It was. I never said I liked it though.” He guffawed at his clever response and pulled out a pocket watch from his waistcoat.
“TEA TIME!” He declared as he fetched his little box of tea leaves.
| 2016-09-25T06:15:29
| 2016-09-25T06:02:03
| 24
| 12
|
[WP] “I’ll tell you what I’m going to do Mr Bond. I’m going to stick you in a spacesuit with a radio, and strap you into one of my cars. Then, while mankind watches, I’ll launch you into space. The last thing you’ll hear before leaving this earth forever, will be their applause.”
|
"What, are you really expecting some sort of villain monologue, where I reveal my evil plan in the most dramatic way possible, allowing you to escape? I don't think so, Mr. Bond."
Agent 007 tested the restraints carefully, under Elon's careful gaze. They were tight. Maybe too tight. Still, he kept cool, smirking slightly.
"Do you really expect me to understand why you're doing this, Musk?"
"No, Mr. Bond. I expect you to die." Shouldering his flamethrower, the eccentric billionaire exited the cockpit. The door shut with a pneumatic hiss, and the secret agent leaped into action, muscles straining as he popped free of his bonds. He wasted a second ensuring the discreet recorder in his Oxfords was secure before turning his attention to the door. It had never meant to keep someone locked inside. Weight restraints meant that SpaceX hadn't done much to reinforce it. Still, Bond couldn't get through.
The radio turned on, a burst of static before Elon's voice came through. The gloat was gone, replaced with a twinge of sadness.
"Mr. Bond? If you make it if you do meet up with the mothership, tell my girls I'll be home soon."
|
James struggled to move. His suit had been drilled into the sides of the car, restricting his motion. On top of that, the man had given him a sedative that would relax his muscles while keeping his mind fully aware of the situation he was in.
Millions of people would be watching, yet none of them would know the true horror of the spectacle they were watching. An actual man in that suit? A ridiculous idea.
"You can't stop this, Mr. Bond. Once this rocket launches, the final step of my plan will be in full motion."
James mentally shook his head as he remembered the subtle stutter Elon had developed to lure his followers into believing he was an innocent man with the best intentions driving his endeavors. No one would suspect the truth. *It was all an elaborate scheme.*
*****
James heard the countdown and closed his eyes. As the rocket took off, the weight of a million tons crushed him into his seat, and through the deafening roar of the 27 Merlin engines firing, he could hear the seemingly louder, deafening applause that came through the headset Musk had placed in his suit. Bond passed out.
******
When he awoke, he thought he was in a dream. He could not move his head, but his eyes darted around in his helmet. He was floating in a vacuum, but as he looked ahead, he teared up at the sight of his planet. It looked so peaceful from up here, far away from the petty squabbles that corrupted its surface.
But Bond did not feel sorry for himself. He felt sorry for the millions of people who would worship Elon for the next few years. He felt sorry for the millions of people who would count down the days until Musk launched the Mars Transporter.
And most of all, he felt sorry for the millions of people who would scream in joy when Musk himself boarded his rocket to Mars, completely unaware of the nuclear weapons he would unleash on Earth once he was gone...
| 2018-02-06T20:27:46
| 2018-02-06T20:15:17
| 206
| 128
|
[WP]: Your mother was a scammer of the supernatural. She promised her firstborn to multiple entities in exchange for something she wanted, and now you're being co-parented by three demons, the fae, and a disgruntled witch.
|
Parent-teacher conference. Why, why does it have to be a parent-teacher conference? Why do I have to drag this mess with me to school, and why in Highschool with my Biology teacher? What the hell does that old bastard want? How do I tell this to the family? Fuck.
I pace back and forth in my porch. Who would have thought such a crazy family would live in such a normal house in the Chicago suburbs? God damn I hate this. I crumple the note in my fist as I stop and take a deep breath.
I walk in the front door. The sight is different and gets stranger every day, but this is home. In front of me is the kitchen, and it seems Mama Krone, the oldest witch alive, is in her typical robes, trying to teach Mama Lilith, a crimson-skinned succubus wearing only an apron, how to make another potion. They've been at this for weeks, Lilith is a lost cause, but she insists on making a fear potion to finally push away her stalkers.
I take off my shoes and step to the living room on the left. Papa Satanael, the blond haired pretty boy, is casually dumpstering people in Star Wars Battlefront 2. Who knew Satan was a sci-fi fan? I wonder if he can go pro, or if he already had in other games.
I sit next to him, watching the carnage."Papa Satan, where is Papa Crowley?"
He responds without even taking his eyes off the tv. "Basement, he's trying to install the new water heater."
"What happened to the other one?"
He sighs while looking down, I can see him crunching the numbers in his head, he may need to do more favors for people. "Oona's nature magic was too strong, one of her plants started growing into the heater and cracked it."
"Ah. OK then I guess I'll leave him alone." I pick up my stuff, getting ready to go back to my room, but he looks over, his golden eyes looking into my soul.
"Speaking of Oona, she picked up the phone and got in a screaming contest with your biology teacher. Something about 'you don't know the first thing about trees' and 'I know what I'm teaching my son. Fuck off.'"
"God dammit."
He turns back to the tv, killing a few other players with zero hesitation. "Yeah, we are all going in about an hour, make sure everyone is ready."
"Fine. You going in your suit again?"
"Of course."
Nodding, I toss the paper into the garbage can and pull my bag up. I go upstairs to my room and drop it off before going to the attic to talk to Mama Oona. I see her whispering sweet nothings to her carnivorous plants. The small blue woman with wings was the fae designated to take care of me. Only about a foot tall, if she wasn't so small, she'd be a beauty who could compete with Lilith.
"Mama Oona, you busy?"
She straightens her usually bent legs, she's mad. "If it's about that hack, I don't want to hear it."
I sigh, this stubborn woman won't listen to a damned thing. "Listen, we have a conference with him, all guardians need to be in attendance."
She turns to me, her venus fly trap growing with her anger. "If I go, then I bring Mr. Bitey."
"Don't kill him. We don't need to move again. We just got here a few months ago."
She crosses her arms and with a huff she says "Fine" and I go to the horrible smell in the kitchen.
Part 2 will continue later in another comment. Am sleepy. Will edit to fix formatting on PC. Mobile fucks with format
|
Jack stood next to his pick up and pulled gently on one of the ropes. It gave slightly. Not tight enough to damage anything on the trip but in no danger of coming loose. Nodding, he turned to little group standing just behind the truck.
"I think that's everything, then."
"Are you sure? You have your toothbrush? Plenty of money for tolls? Do you have the cooler with the sandwiches and drinks I made for you? How about your scrying bowl? The phylactery? The Skull Bowl..."
"Moirai, you're overwhelming the boy!" laughed a large, bearded man off to the right of the group. The man pointed a coffee cup proclaiming to the property of the world's greatest dad at Jack. "He's done all the studying we asked of him and he hasn't once let us down. He's ready."
"Nothing wrong with double-checking, Alastor" Moirai said, waving away the large man as she walked toward Jack. "Please remember how important the little things are, my boy. Kings and gods have fallen thanks to little more than carefully chosen words."
Jack smiled warmly, "Mother, you and father and aunt Morgana and uncles Screwtape and Nybbas, all of you have been there for me as long as I can remember. Thank you so much for raising me and teaching me all that you have. We don't often say the word 'love' here but I love each and every one of you so much. I promise I will make all of you so proud of me."
Jack reach out and hugged Moirai hard to his chest. He thought about how, as a child, the fairy would kill his friends over and over in front of him, showing him how weak humans were and how no one would come to save them. Jack recalled how Marty begged and Elizabeth cried and Andrew wet himself and Carlos cried to God and all the rest, each facing the end like cowards. Humans were a low and doomed race but their bodies and souls had so many uses. A clever and prepared person could use a human to get all sorts things.
Jack let go of the being he called mother and walked into a group hug between him and his father and uncles. His father and uncles taught him the joys of manipulation and despair. Playing groups of twos and threes against each other, offering the proper word here and show of affection or deference there to grow love or hate in the human heart. With their lessons, Jack had convinced children to kill their parents, turned love decades old into bitter spite. Jack recalled the joy in each of their eyes when he returned home from prom. Jack had seduced both the prom king and queen, convincing each that the other had to die. They stabbed each other to death during their coronation dance.
The group disbanded and Morgana walked up, smiling wistfully. She was his guide in pretending to be human: How to drive, how to cook, how to feign interest in humans he had no immediate need for. Most importantly, she showed him the other Jacks. The other children that were sacrificed to his other supernatural guardians. Thanks to her, he knew that the only one he could truly rely on was himself. Everyone else was a competitor to be bargained with or a resource to be used. The only two humans in the family of demons held each other's hands, looked into each other's eyes and nodded. The next time they saw each other, no mercy would be expected.
Jack swept his gaze across the group. "Well, this is it then. It'll take me 18 hours to get over to Denver and start looking for this 'champion'. I'll get someone to walk onto I-70 so you'll know I got there safely. Thank you all for...well, everything!"
With that, Jack climbed into his truck and left his little family behind. As he got on the highway heading west, he pondered which one of his family would break under torture first. He had something special in mind for Mother's Day next year.
| 2019-07-18T12:10:11
| 2019-07-18T09:14:10
| 24
| 16
|
[WP] You're a pawn shop owner. Two bums inform you they've got some real good shit today. They lug in the Ark of the Covenant.
|
"Wait, *what*?" I gasped as the two scruffy gentlemen shuffled into my shop. Clothes tied together with string, wild beards and wild eyes, my first thought was to throw them out. After all, the last time I had homeless in the shop, they tried to pawn me my own merchandise.That is, until I saw what they carried between them.
"Is that..." I whispered, reverence forced into my voice by the object before me.
"Yep. That is *the* Ark of the Covenant. Designed to carry the remains of Moses' tablets." The first tramp gave it a familiar pat, causing a reflexive wince across my face.
I drew closer, and slowly placed a hand against the lid. A resounding *faith* shot through my arms, and I felt at peace with the world. This was the Real Deal, the Motherload. The Ark of the Covenant.
I looked up at the two beggars; "Wh- Where did you get this?"
"This? Oh we've been carrying this round for a while. What do you reckon, Eli?"
"Oh, at least two and a half thousand years" the voice of the second bearer rolled through the shop. "Give or take a few hundred."
"There you go, shopkeep. I tell you, you lose track of time on a walk, don't you?" He smiled at my shocked face. "Two thousand years? You've been carrying this round for *Two thousand years*?!?"
"Give it take a few hundred, yes. Exercise does you the world of good. I don't look a day over 500, all because of a little walking." He smiled, and rummaged round in his bedraggled coat.
"And you want to sell it? How much?" It was their turn to look shocked.
"Sell It? The Ark? Turn our back on our Sacred Duty, abandon our charge for *money*? No, never!" The two Bearers shuffled protectively in front of the Ark. "No, this is what I wanted to sell." The first held out his hand, with a few glinting coins in it.
"There you go. Genuine Roman Currency. Pure gold; none of that debased rubbish from after the conquering of Judea. How much for these? 'Cause the Pub refuses to accept them anymore. Bloody new management, every fifty years its the same"
Sighing, I bought the coins from the two, and they shuffled off with their immortal burden. Never again would I come so nea...
"Excuse me" I looked up at the workman standing at the counter with his offering. "I found this 'ere cup, but every time I drink from it, I start 'earing an 'eavenly choir. 'Ow much for it?"
|
"Best I can do for you...*gentlemen*...is $175."
I stood behind my counter, impassive. In the face of an item that countries would pay billions to possess, I had to pretend that I thought it was the prop from *Moses*.
Yeah, the one filmed back in the thirties? With what's-his-beard as the dude? That one.
Course, cause I know the movie, I was quite certain that it wasn't, in fact, a cheap pine-and-paint reproduction. The way that they'd staggered in while carrying it proved it. Also proved they were drunk, which was why I was sure I could out-negotiate them.
"L-look man, all I know is this angel, right? This angel was getting mugged by some Joe who claimed he was the son of George Bush or some shit. I yelled at them and the dude ran off. Angel told me to keep track of this while he went to heaven to get a crane. Dunno why he didn't want the p-perfecly good egret in the drainage ditch, but he didn't. Anyway, he never showed, so Dick and I decided we'd get our money's out of it. And the angel told me it was worth more than $125."
"Even if I believed you about the Angel, doesn't mean the Angel was right. I could be generous and go $130, cause you've done good business before, but I'm not looking at any higher."
With a grumble, he and his compatriot each accepted $65 and walked out the door, while I began looking for potential buyers.
Even though I'm an atheist, I'm unsure enough to be careful. After all, when God smites you, it's usually lethal.
| 2016-06-08T10:33:06
| 2016-06-08T09:16:02
| 42
| 16
|
[WP] Your girlfriend is a superhero but you're not a villain. You're the person working from the shadows making sure no one finds out about her secret identity.
|
Finding official merch for a low-paid clerical position in a team like this one was challenging. Of course, Lisa's PR team had dedicated plenty of time and resource into creating merch for the numerous side-kicks. Market research, stress testing, launch events. Even her *driver* got a t-shirt after a particularly well-televised car chase last year.
When Burt had joined in September, Lisa had promised him that the Disney store would be selling mugs with his face on by Christmas. "Kids everywhere will literally be drinking from your face" she had beamed one evening, rather unsettlingly.
But it was February now, and any chance of a mug - or anything else, for that matter - had been firmly ousted by the higher-ups. Even the new shredder was a challenge: approved only after Burt had spent a whole afternoon successfully piecing together the remnants of a utility bill that revealed Lisa's full name.
"You know I need you", Lisa would say. "Why do you need some shitty fridge magnet to prove that?"
But it wasn't enough.
Like many entry-level administrative assistants, Burt was angry at the world. He had a Masters degree. It was in Sports Psychology, but still. He had it.
In primary school, Burt was voted the most likely to become Prime Minister. His family were still under the impression that he ran a marketing department in the transport and logistics sector - a job title chosen because it was tedious enough to prevent any further questioning. Yet still, the job he had *invented* for the sole purpose of sounding boring was almost certainly more exciting than his reality.
And the reality was that Burt was turning into a villain.
Here was a man that could, with the click of a button, crumble the entire dynasty of one of the world's most famous superheroes. All it would take was an email, and she'd be finished. Why didn't they realise that? Why wasn't he given an appropriate amount of respect for someone in such a commanding position?
Nobody would have to know it was him, either. Burt wasn't an expert in much, but he'd carved a career out of his talent for anonymity.
He'd have his girlfriend back, too. She wasn't the person she used to be when she had saved him from the fire. She'd started to *believe* she was super. Burt had once told her that the fact she could fly was the least super thing about her. She seemed to like that compliment more than the others. He wouldn't dare say that to her these days.
Yes: on Monday, Burt would go into the office, as he always did. He would turn on his laptop, as he always did. He would make himself a cup of tea, in a mug with Lisa's face on it, as he always did. And then he would send an email to the Daily Mail.
By 11am, the world would know.
\_\_\_\_
The traffic was particularly bad on Monday morning. He arrived at 09:07 - the sort of arbitrary, uncontrollable slip-up that would still find its way into the conversation next time he floated the idea of a pay rise.
Laptop on. Kettle boiling.
But something was different today.
He opened the cupboard to grab his mug, only it wasn't Lisa's slightly tea-stained face that stared back at him. It was his. His face. On a mug. Was this some sort of joke?
A yellow post-it note curled itself around the rim. He grabbed it, expecting to read some sort of snarky message from Steve in finance. "Happy Valentines, my hero."
With one hand, Burt placed the post-it in his pocket. He'd be keeping that. With the other, he lifted the mug from its wooden enclosure, and turned it slowly to read the message on the back.
*Behind every great superhero is an ever greater administrative assistant.*
Merch. Burt merch. Not official Burt merch, but something even better.
Maybe this job wasn't so bad after all.
|
Dave was good at multitasking. He had to be, given what he was currently doing. Three monitors, all going at once, and all of them demanded his attention.
On the first was an extraordinary fight. A woman in a colorful spandex costume was fighting a 30 foot tall robot. The woman flew around at blistering speed, intercepting attacks with her (mostly) invulnerable body. She would then tear into the metal, damaging it heavily before it could retaliate. Dave did not technically need to devote much attention to that one. But he still did, because he liked the spectacle.
The second monitor was the public's reaction to the fight in the form of news and social media sites. He did not have to do much here. All he needed to do was make the occasional post from one of his dummy accounts, making sure nobody was paying attention to the people not in the fight.
The third monitor was where he needed to devote most of his attention. This one showed the bystanders. He was focused on one in particular. A beautiful young woman who was hiding from the fight. Or at least, that's what everyone else saw.
What Dave saw was the complex series of his self made holographic projectors forming the illusion of the woman. The real woman, the one who the illusion was based on, was currently fighting a giant robot. And he had to make sure nobody figured that out.
A few button presses made the projectors move in a way that made the image believable, while not bringing it into contact with anyone else. And with everyone scrambling around to not be in the lone of fire, that was hard.
He positioned it in a relatively safe area and took a moment to watch the fight. She had the easy job, really. Oh sure, it looked hard and all, but for someone whose daily warm up involved train engines and could block ICBMs with her face, it was really not.
Really, making sure nobody knew that was the hard part. Why she insisted on wearing an outfit like that was beyond him. It would be so much easier if she took measures to not advertise her rather dramatic figure, even when she was trying not to attract attention. But, it was hard to argue with someone like her.
Maybe he would teach her a little lesson? Maybe one of his accounts would maybe allude to the hologram's suspicious similarities to the heroine? Maybe that would teach her to wear a sweat shirt or something while not actively saving people.
He quickly tabled that idea. It would just make his life harder in the long run. But he could still bring it up now and then. She would, of course, accuse him of being clingy and not want her to catch the eyes of other men. It was the same argument they had had a dozen times before.
He considered his options until another person got dangerously close to his hologram. He had to scramble to get it away from contact range. Maybe that was how he got her to listen? Show her how hard he worked to keep her from getting noticed.
He guided the illusion away from any other people as best he could, then had it hunker down. He almost got comfortable again, when the fight ended. She had, of course, triumphed. She stood heroically over the remains of the robot, and basked in public adoration before flying off.
Dave rushed to put the image in a place where she could easily get to it and not draw attention. Once she had, he allowed himself to relax. Maybe he would record one of these sessions. Let her see exactly how hard he had to work, and how much easier a more concealing outfit would make things. He could drop a monitor, forgetting about the social media sites catching wind of her. He would not have to worry so much about small pieces of debris clipping through the hologram's exterior. So much would be solved with just a sweat shirt.
But, until the day she saw reason, he would continue to do as he had been. She would make sure to protect the world. He would make sure his super hero girlfriend had a secret identity to come home to afterwards.
| 2021-11-20T08:57:42
| 2021-11-20T08:30:42
| 88
| 45
|
[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
|
Dear E,
I love you. Not the cheesy love I felt in high school, and not the way I love the woman I think I'm going to marry, but you hold a place in my heart that no one else can.
We were destructive. We weren't good for each other. You were emotionally abusive, and I was amazed a pretty girl would give me the time of day. I was putty in your hands, and you took advantage of that to the fullest. I had my faults too, but you put the nail in the coffin.
Then you got kicked out of school. You moved in with another guy and confided in me about your relationship problems. I, a guy who cares too much and tries too hard, was more than willing to stay up until the wee hours listening to you and solving the problems of a relationship I had no part in. We might have been a thunderstorm, but he was a hurricane. You kept seeing him, and kept coming to me for advice. I conceded.
Then the accident happened.
You were going too fast. You hit a puddle. You couldn't keep from swerving into the other lane. You survived, but not without some brain damage.
I remember speeding to the hospital and seeing him. The man who was the vehicle to this lifestyle that put you here.
The man whose smile was as crooked as your front bumper when I saw your car in the junkyard. It was the first time I recall feeling genuine hate. The first time I wanted someone to die. To change places with you.
The next few months you'll never remember. You were in a coma. You were in rehab. You couldn't speak. You couldn't eat. I was there every other day, spending hours with you, watching movies with the husk of a person I once knew.
But you improved. Your brain damage wasn't as bad as they thought, but it changed you. You became frustrated. You would lash out at me due to your brain's lack of ability to filter. You'd hit me. I remained there. I taught you to count again. I taught you colors. I taught you the parts of your face. I fed you your first solid meal.
Then college came. Then I realized that things would never be the same. That as much as I cared for you, I had to move on, and so did you. You were recovered to the best that you would be, and you were moving out on your own.
You have a baby now. You have a boyfriend. I have a woman by my side who I love dearly. There's no trace of romantic feelings whatsoever, but I'll always remember our time together. I'll always care for you deeply. You'll always be the one who taught me what caring for people really means.
You'll never remember what I did. You'll never remember learning colors or numbers or eating your first meal from a spoon I was holding.
I think I like it better that way.
We were a thunderstorm, but the skies are clear now.
|
Dear You,
I don't know if you're there. If you exist anywhere in this world. Maybe you'll always be a concept in my mind of the kind of person I need to meet and say all of this to. If you're not there, then that's depressing. But if, somewhere, you exist...
I haven't been strong. I've been plagued with weakness in almost every aspect of my life, self-conceived or not. I can't possibly understand the kind of back road I've set myself on in spite of all of the advantages I've been handed, and lesser still do I understand how someone like me can be in this position.
It's such a fatal fault that I can't help but scream sometimes. The idea that I must not scream. All of these faults, all of these emotions, I have to keep aside to maintain the persistent illusion that I am fine, when it is not so. The environment I am in is fine, therefore I must also be; isn't that the way it works? I suppose some people could call this a form of depression, but it's nothing of the sort. I do not have the privilege of attributing how I feel to a concrete cause and symptom. It is my responsibility to not scream.
How many people have turned away from me when I have? When, in a sudden surge of desperation and crippled fortitude, I have poured onto them all of my worries, all of my thoughts, emotions, curses, and faults; when I have exposed every facet of my very being to them to see, because I want to be seen? How many have stared at me in disgust, called me twisted and irrational, or worse: turned away and pretended that it did not exist? How many more will do the same?
I can't continue this way. If a lie were never discovered to be a lie, then it is as real as the truth. If I maintain this illusion of saneness and restrain these thoughts indefinitely, then it will have been as though I was always fine to begin with. I cannot keep lying. I must not lie.
And yet I cannot say the truth. I do not want others to turn away. I do not want to endure the searing pain of being abandoned time and time again by those I thought I could trust. I do not want my hands to be decorated with tears, for my screams to sound like threatening howls of horror that nobody can understand. I do not want to tell the truth. But I do not want to lie. I do not speak.
I cannot scream.
This is for You, whoever you may be. If you exist out there in this world and chance would favor us meeting, then I only wish to ask you one thing.
Do not turn away in my moment of weakness. Do not twist your expression as I lay at your feet, a river obscuring my vision, as I say all that is there to think and think of all that there is to say. Do not utter scornful words as I look up in hope for even the briefest sign of benevolence from you. Hear me. I beg of you, please hear me and let me be heard; acknowledge my pain, acknowledge my sorrow, and though you may not have the words to cleanse me of my guilt, vices, and regrets, at least smile upon me, not as a form of approval, but to let me know that I am heard. That I _exist_. That I am *real*.
Let me know that I am allowed to exist.
Sincerely,
A Liar.
| 2015-12-05T16:37:50
| 2015-12-05T14:15:59
| 94
| 11
|
[WP] All superpowers have a ‘hangover’ effect. For example, after using super strength for the day, the morning after you can’t even lift your spoon to eat your breakfast. You wake up one morning after using your own specific superpower and you feel pretty hungover...
[deleted]
|
I awaken well rested and ready for the day, a solid nights sleep. I leave my room to see a pile of letters just inside the door. I look to the bench to see last nights dinner covered in mould. I pull up my phone. Every app has notifications. I check the date. It’s the 27th.
I sigh “That’s what I get for taking 10 extra minutes on my history exam.” I start cleaning.
|
"Get away from him or I'll make you."
Michael and Scott glanced up from the kid sprawled helplessly on the grey floor, and saw me.
They laughed.
I had already guessed that the threat wouldn't be effective. A short kid in raggedy clothes and spiky hair didn't exactly set off a 'powerful' image, after all. But looks... looks were shallow, and lost to the surface.
They did very, very little to show the true worth of a person.
"The boy has no shadow! He's a demon for sure." They snorted. "All we're doing is protecting humankind."
I took a closer look at the boy on the ground. He was scrawny, with scared eyes that stayed half-open. He had no shadow. Fear had gripped him tightly, but not so securedly that he stopped shaking. He was shivering, lost to the throes of fear like a man with no coat caught in winter's rage.
I sighed. Us and our inane superstitions. To look upon someone with no shadow or no reflection and think of them as demons was far-fetched. To deduce that despite the widespread prevalence of superpowers was something else entirely.
I pulled him aside, keeping some distance from the 2 boys.
I smiled at the kid. "Get out of here kid. I know what its like to live with no shadow. Go straight home and-"
"Hey, shithead!" Scott called.
His eyes shone with blazing fury. He took a deep breath and pounded the concrete floor, cracks running out from the impact, not unlike his previous victims.
"Give back my prey, or I will kill you."
I set my eyes upon them. One would think of them as eyes. But they were piercing in sunlight, cool amber in the moonlight, and hidden fear in no light.
"Dark god manifestation."
The shadows surrounding me grew into a huge implacable mass, swirling amd roiling like the waves and wind in storm. I flicked my wrist.
They swept forth like the unstoppable stream of a river and engulfed the two boys. Their screams only stretched for a second before the hunger of the night was upon them, cold and insatiable and unlike them, indiscriminatory.
The darkness fell away like a snowflake in sunshine, leaving me completely. I smiled down at the awe-struck boy and offered him my hand.
"As I said... I know what it's like to live with no shadow."
| 2018-08-19T05:57:43
| 2018-08-19T04:28:22
| 74
| 55
|
[WP] You are an immortal serial killer. You were caught and sentenced to life in prison. The prison is starting to get suspicious of why you won't age.
|
'Adam, it's been 20 years. You can't stay in here forever. Your children need you.' She said, looking at me with those eyes.
A man would give his arm (or a rib!) to wake up to that face. Even those piece of shit guards (they're not all pieces of shit, Connolly and Jackson were halfway decent humans) treated her with a little extra respect, although if you asked them about it they wouldn't have known why or even that they did. And probably would have taken you in the back room and beaten you for good measure.
Maybe she was right. It had been a long time. A couple of the old timers, even if they were smart enough not to ask a serial killer about his age, tread carefully around me. Ever since Ramirez disappeared 10 years ago for commenting on my hair not turning grey.
No. Fuck that. Fuck the world. Fuck her. 'Fuck you.' I said, almost gracefully.
She sighed, for the millionth time, as if I was just a wayward child, and not the oldest person on earth. 'Fine. I'm leaving, but you know I will be back, and you know what you need to do if you truly want rest.' God, she is still as beautiful as the day we met.
'Yea, I know, I know. Try not to fuck any snakes on the way out, Eve.'
For a second, I thought I had reached through her impenetrable calm. Her eyes glittered for half a second. It was almost like old times, like being young and in love. Almost. Then she turned and walked out.
Back in my cell, I have another visitor. This one is invisible to the guards. 'What do you want, Lucifer?' I dont bother to keep my voice down, the guards think im crazy anyway.
'Your soul, but unfortunately you have immunity,' he says, grinning at me. 'Well, I would take your wife, but she knows to stay away from me. I'll have to settle for your children.' he says with a far-away look, as if he is imagining my wife naked. 'Actually I'm here with a proposition. I can get you out of here.'
'What makes you think I can't get out of here myself? I've learned a few tricks over the millennia.'
'That's not the point. I have an idea that can help us both. I know this place is sooo much fun, but hear me out.' He tells me. Hmmm... interesting. I mean you can't just kill God, but... his plan is still interesting...
I mean, after the fall, Eve and I wandered a long time. I was pissed, who wouldn't be? Knowledge can do that to you. Eventually I found peace. I decided to help people. Have you heard of Mithras? Buddha? Jesus? Yea. 2,000 years later they kind of feel like past lives. BUt I tried. I really did. People are just so stubborn. Or, you get a bunch of followers and 1 Judas fucks it up (is it my fault I slept with his girlfriend? In a time of unwashed hippies, she still managed to smell of lavender half the time, and those eyes, god she reminded me of Eve... sorry where I was i? When you hit 6,000 years old, ramble you will!). We're all only human, I guess.
So then I decided to lay low, maybe just find a nice corner and forget about the world. But it just gets to you, you know? Through 2 World Wars I watched millions of my kids kill themselves like lemmings to move some squiggles on a map. They poison themselve constantly. Cancer. The last straw was AIDs. I went to Africa, saw babies dying without a chance to grow up. Decided to do something. Except this time I decided to just start killing all the crooked politicians. Angel of Truth, they called me. Except the politicians got worried. And in an ironic move of bipartisanship, they came together. To catch me. And put me away. That was 20 years ago, kids nowadays barely remember. I've stayed here because I cant think of anything better to do, but maybe it's time to move on.
'So by that dumb look on your face, I take it you are considering. Are you in?' The Morningstar asks, looking at me with his winningest smile (every smile is the winningest when you are the devil) and putting his hand out as if inviting a handshake. I clasp his hand and shake it.
'Fine. But I get to drive.' I say to him. 'It's been 20 years. And we need to stop somewhere, I'm starving. Is there a good burger joint around here? Are people still allowed to eat meat?' I wonder aloud as we walk out...
Today is going to be a lot more interesting than I thought it would be when I woke up.
|
I'm immortal. I got caught during my regular decade old ritual, killing someone I thought deserved it. This time it was a paedophile I caught in the act. The kid ran away and I couldn't absolve myself.
I'm 50 going on 50000, I've seen civilizations born and die. I've met the world's most famous warlords and Kings. Even a god here or there. But now I'm stuck, in a super max prison. I get 1 hour of time every day outside of my cell, in an enclosed area 30 by 30 feet, by 20 feet high. The other 23 hours I'm confined to my cell.
I killed three guards trying to escape one time. I've killed six inmates in the past three years. I'm on a one way mission to get the state to reinstate the death penalty, just biding my time. It kills me to have to become a monster to get out of here. But I know the only way out is in a body bag.
Please kill me. The suffering needs to end.
| 2016-10-15T09:47:53
| 2016-10-15T08:43:24
| 26
| 15
|
[WP] Panic spreads amongst the African Vampire community after Toto blesses the rains.
|
*Tanzania, February 1983*
Kaisi hummed along to the radio as he tidied his house. His sister was coming to visit tomorrow night, and he liked things to be tidy anyway. This would probably be the last time she visited him for a few months, as the rainy season would be starting any day now, and she was always busy at that time of year.
From the outside, his house looked like a simple stone house several kilometers outside of Kigoma, not very large, but ample room for a bachelor of 130 years. But a trapdoor in the floor of the bedroom led to a rather large underground dwelling where Kaisi spent much of his time. It was here that he was now, preparing for his sister and the coming rain, which yearly left enough water in through the unfinished walls to leave puddles on the floor. It normally wasn't much more than an annoyance, but once every ten years or so, Kaisi would have a temporary underground swimming pool.
The voice of the DJ crackled through his radio. 'And that was Hungry Like the Wolf, by Duran Duran. Now for a tune that's sweeping across the United States. Here's Africa, from Toto.' A brassy sound filled Kaisi's home, quickly followed by a plinking instrument that reminded him of rain, then a soft voice. 'I hear the drums echoing tonight...' Kaisi couldn't help but start swaying to the catchy tune. By the second chorus, he was singing along. 'I BLESS THE RAINS DOWN IN AFRICA!' He laughed to himself a little. How strange would it be if this band could actually bless the rains about to come? Strange and horrifying, certainly. Kaisi had only come into contact with holy water once, by accident, but he remembered how bad it had stung.
Four evenings later, Kaisi was tending his garden when the rains finally came. He had watched lightning play on the horizon for an hour or so, and was just getting ready to go inside when a few drops started falling from the sky. One landed on his cheek and he swatted at his face as it seared his skin, leaving a blister and burning his fingers where he'd swiped the moisture away. Several more raindrops landed on his arms, but it felt like acid. He ran for his front door, dropping his tools as the roar of the downpour swept closer to him.
Kaisi slammed his door shut just as the sheet of rain drew over his house. He stumbled into his bathroom, head down to keep any stray drops from falling into his eyes, groping for his towel. Finally grasping it, he pressed it to his face and head, moaning. What Hell was this? The rain felt like it was holy water, burning wherever it touched his skin and leaving angry welts as he dried himself.
His phone rang. Fingers stinging, he picked up the receiver. 'Hello?' he rasped.
'Kaisi!' It was his sister. 'I'm so glad you answered! Don't go outside! There's something wrong with the rain. It's like it's been turned into holy water, but no one knows how. You have to promise me you'll stay inside.'
Kaisi almost rolled his eyes at his sister's excessive concern, but then he remembered his plans for later that night. 'I don't have any blood stored here,' he whispered. 'I'm going to starve. If I don't starve, I'll be dissolved by the rain.'
'No! Don't say that! Just... just stay inside. We'll find a way to reach you with some blood,' she told him. 'Just stay inside, and stay dry.'
He said goodbye and hung up, then slumped in a chair, listening to the water pound on the roof. It might let up tomorrow evening, or it might last for days. As he rubbed at the blisters on his arm, he could just make out the *plip plip* of water dripping into his basement.
It had been almost twenty years since the rain had been heavy enough to fill the lower level of his home.
|
Wakanda holds many secrets.
The first was our very existence. Hidden from the world, our ancestors preferred the shadows, like the panthers who protect us. Recent events have caused our King to step out of the darkness, to make himself and our city known.
But we still hold our deepest secrets. The King of Wakanda claims it is the heart shaped herb that gives him his great strength, speed and invulnerability.
Many believe him.
Many are wrong.
I know this because I have never tasted the heart shaped herb, and yet I share our King's supposedly unique gifts. The heart shaped herb is a myth to hide the true source of our King's powers. He is a vampire.
There are many of us, here in Africa, birthplace of humanity. Like Wakanda itself, we have hidden in the shadows, content to feed only when we are hungry, eager to watch our prey multiply and fatten. With Wakanda taking its rightful place at the forefront of civilisation, we too were poised to begin a new phase of existence. There is enough to go around, after all. We could all be Kings.
But as humanity has grown, so has its technology. We watched in fear as you tamed the atom. We felt chills as you build underground collidors, kilometers long. We intervened where possible. Cited ethical concerns, environmental dangers and tremendous risks. As the years have gone on, we have been glad to stay hidden, and have infiltrated every industry, stifling and suppressing every potential avenue of attack.
Or so we thought.
Who would have thought it would be simple radio that would hurt us? It wasn't even intentional either. Just dumb, stupid luck.
It's a catchy song, I'll give them that.
"I bless the rains down in Africa."
Every time it played, it worked its magic. If it had been an ordinary song, we may have never noticed. The problem was it was no ordinary song. It was the greatest song ever written, and by all the Gods did humanity know it. They played it none stop, blessing the rain, but cursing us.
As the rains fell, our kind burnt. Sun and rain both now our enemies.
Only myself and my King remain, so far as I know. Luck has allowed me to survive. Our King has his armour, impervious to blessed rains.
But I know another secret.
He owns two suits.
| 2018-06-11T09:06:22
| 2018-06-11T08:54:17
| 1,291
| 266
|
[WP] "Wait, so there's no gold?" "Of COURSE there's no gold. I'm a huge freaking dragon; why would I need to buy anything? I live in a cave, for fuck's sake. WHY do you humans always think I have gold?"
|
"Wait, so there's no gold?"
Gordon stared down at the latest imbecile. "*Of* *course*, there's no gold. I'm a huge freaking dragon; why would I need to buy anything? I live in a cave, for fuck's sake. WHY do you humans always think I have gold?"
The idiot's jaw dropped a bit and turned his head to stare at the unadorned slab walls. “But, but...”
Gordon could feel his temper straining. What *was* it with these humans? He closed his eyes and counted to ten. Martha had warned him about smelling up the cave with burnt human again, and he had no wish to sleep out in the forest.
“But what about the diamonds?” came a quiet question.
Gordon just about snapped. “WHAT DIAMONDS?!”
The human jumped just about out of his shoes. Gordon wondered if it was possible for something to vibrate their way out of their own skin.
“Those?” the idiot whispered, pointing toward the refuse pile.
Gordon just about lost it. “Don't you eliminate, human?” Just how stupid *were* these creatures?
The human gulped. “Yeah, but I don't poop out diamonds.”
Gordon stared at the human. He then looked at the refuse pile. “You're serious.”
The diamonds Gordon was familiar with were all polished and faceted, and generally looked like microscopic scales. Not at all what dragons produce.
Still, the human nodded. Gordon stared at him while the gears churned in his head. He jumped up and turned toward the back of the cave.
“Martha!” he roared. “Get a realtor! We're rich!”
|
The knight thought for a second, at a loss for words. He had never stopped to consider it.
"Because the legends have said it, since before time began," he replied, trying to remain brave. "You kill the dragon, you get the gold, you wed the princess."
"Oh god, you think I have some virgin princess lying around here too? What's thicker, your armor or your skull?" the dragon said, his voice dripping in sarcasm.
"You mean you don't have a princess either?" the knight queried, now truly confused.
"Of course not! For what, leftovers? No; no princess, no gold, and no time for your incessant pestering. Begone with you."
"But then why would the tales say so?" the knight asked.
"You really don't know, do you?" the dragon asked, almost disappointed. "You humans are really a sorry lot."
"But why?" the knight asked, persisting.
"Because you're selfish at your core, that's why. You won't kill a dragon just because it's terrorizing the lands, just because it's feasting on your peoples' livestock. No, you need a reward, a dragon's weight in gold and some helpless woman's hand in marriage to boot. You won't kill a dragon just because it's the right thing to do," the dragon spat.
"If you do manage to kill me," the dragon continued, "all you will get is a knife in the neck to keep the story believed, as I am but one dragon. Perhaps some false tale of courage, no doubt where you kill me in your dying throes. But you will not have to worry about that - as your flimsy sword could not pierce my heart, let alone my scales. Now either die here or leave with your life; it does not matter to me."
The knight stood in silent contemplation. After quite some time, he sheathed his sword, then turned back towards the entrance.
"I'm sorry to have wasted your time," the knight said, almost to himself.
"And I yours," the dragon replied. "And I suggest you keep this all to yourself, lest you still want that knife to find its way inside of you."
The dragon watched the knight go. Despite the fact that he had come to kill him, he still felt he had perhaps been a bit too harsh on the knight.
Perhaps it was finally time to speak to the king himself. It would be a fiery conversation, no doubt.
| 2020-12-28T19:21:32
| 2020-12-28T18:59:29
| 605
| 309
|
[WP] One day, browsing reddit, you decide to click the random subreddit button. Upon doing this, you discover a subreddit obsessed with you, with posts lincluding everything you've been doing until a few hours ago.
|
I never go into random.
If I need to find it, it seems to come to me. Or I'll be on google and the subreddit for the thing I'm googling pops up. But I'm bored as hell.
My computer's been semi-on the fritz. By which I mean, I can barely watch a YouTube video without glitches, freezes, skipping audio... so gaming's out of the question, I don't touch Netflix, and my writing's been uninspired for months.
So I clicked random for once. Why not?
What popped up was /r/watchingladyrage8/.
Bitch, what?
At first, it seems like pretty basic knowledge from my actual page. The fact that they know where I go to college seems kinda normal, I've made some posts and some comments on the sub for it. Yeah, I follow and comment on a metric shitton of character, writing, and worldbuilding subs, of course they know I write. Knowledge of my brothers is okay, I did just mention them in AskReddit.
Wait a second here... they know my best friends' names.
And they know the /u of one of them.
They mention him (without tagging) in some of the posts.
Okay, nowww we're verging into weird. He and I have no overlap, nothing tying us together, hell, I've tossed him in as a friend on here but I never see him in orange because his posts don't intersect on anything I follow.
And then...
**"Too Bad, She Didn't Finish Watching Bones"**
Okay, that's true, but I didn't tell anyone that. Hell, I even lied and told my roommate I *did* finish it.
**"Did her old roommate steal her magnets? Discuss."**
I've barely mentioned that to my own mother.
**"Look at this stinkeye the old roommate bitch gave her this morning."**
Wait...
**"Hope that interview goes well for her!"**
That was this morning. What the fuck?
**"Her door for the floor-wide contest looks so good! She's got this in the bag"**
I'm going to scream. And that's when I got an unexpected text, from the aforementioned best friend I never see on my reddit.
*Get off of it before they realize. You're lucky I found you here first.*
|
I always thought I was a pretty normal though mundane guy. Nothing too exciting. I work a normal boring job, feed my cat every day, a balding, middle aged divorcee with a grown son who is too busy to know I exist. You know the type.
So when Lisa got me into the newest office craze I just thought it would be something silly to pass my long tedious hours. You know, when there was nothing better to do.
But boy is it addicting! Was a great suprize. They have everything on here! Now I'm not to good with computers but they made it so easy. And it can even be randomized. I've never seen anything like it.
Just watch what it'll pull up this time.... Wait...what? This can't be right.
Titles of post seem eerily familiar.
"Sits down at the park"
"Has a flash back"
Things that happened just earlier today.
Pages upon pages of my life. Laid out for everyone to see.
My interactions with Lisa. My rides on the bus. The smallest mundane details of my life.
They even knew my cats name.
Norman.
| 2017-10-26T16:39:33
| 2017-10-26T15:19:19
| 267
| 78
|
[WP] A jobless computer programmer, while hacking at home one night, discovers a port to the Unirnet, an computer network made for a series of interconnected planets who have not yet discovered mankind.
|
Sean tapped at his keyboard languidly. His public IP had been getting hits recently for seemingly no reason. A few thousand bytes would come through every few minutes.
But they were encrypted. It wasn't a simple port scan. Those typically hit then come back in a few days if it was likely a useful port. Maybe some kind of malware ping, he supposed; maybe some botnet was confused and trying to ask his machine for commands.
He opened his LinkedIn profile and scoured the web a few times for jobs. He opened and closed a few games, as if launching them gave him the willpower to shut them off. He sighed. The clock said it was 2 p.m. and he'd already had lunch hours ago. He considered going to sleep.
Instead he opened up Eclipse and threw together a small server and launched it. Maybe a response would get the packets to stop. His new server received a packet after only a minute - regular as clockwork this thing was - and returned garbage.
Sean read the log, saw the encrypted packet, and then another out of sequence.
ERROR 901: Invalid server response. View 0X:9G:45:12:FL:21:82:11 for more information.
He was confused. That wasn't a valid address at all. He tried opening it in Firefox. Obviously no response. Then Chrome. Same, no response.
Curious he opened a terminal and sent a ping. No response again, of course. As his last idea, he opened telnet and tried connecting.
Connecting to 0X:9G:45:12:FL:21:82:11...
Connected to Uninet - invalid port number. Try port 3141.
Sean shrugged and did as he was told.
Connecting to 0X:9G:45:12:FL:21:82:11 port 3141...
Connected to Uninet Bootstrap Service. Visitors or scientific observers,
please download this software for your Earth-native PC to connect to Uninet proper.
Following that was an address for a file. He downloaded it, fired up a virtual machine, and ran it inside. It took a while to install, no doubt downloading even more data, and eventually a browser-like window opened. The page displayed was a selection dialog with a hundred circles of various coloration. Honestly they looked like planets.
Sean looked through them and found Earth. He was mildly surprised. They were planets after all. He wondered what would have happened if he'd clicked one of the others.
The next page popped up and showed the flags of the world. His best guess was that this was a language selector, so he clicked the Union Jack since the American flag seemed absent.
Installation Complete! Welcome to Uninet!
He looked through the app and found a "bookmarks" page. He clicked through the first one and found himself on an encyclopedia.
*Impressive bit of mockup* he thought to himself. He was still curious how that odd address had resolved itself.
He bounced around a few articles, glossing over the Arkanian Empire, the Rocksan Abyss, and various other nonsense phrases. He laughed. "Must be some incredibly detailed RPG."
He clicked the other links in the bookmarks tab and found what must be a search engine, a video website, and a travel website. He did a few searches, and the results were typically similar to Google. Same with the videos, except the top of each page said `Results modified to match local planet`. *Cute*, he thought.
The travel website had the usual origin and destination fields, so he threw in Seattle in the origin (displayed as `Seattle, United States, Earth`) and then typed a few random letters in the destination. It supplied `Korin, Korin Prefecture, Arkanian Empire`.
He clicked the submit button, not seeing any date options, and the app loaded a new page. `Next Quantum Pull in 15 minutes. Accept?`
But somehow it was 6 p.m. and he was getting hungry. He clicked the `Accept` button then stood up, walking to the kitchen. He tossed some water in a pot, threw it on the stove, and waited for it to boil after salting it thoroughly.
Next went in the pasta and he gave it an initial stir. His laptop beeped three times, then said in a monotone: `Quantum Pull in 5... 4... 3... 2... 1...`
|
Greg rubbed the sleep out of his eye as he opened the door to the study. Jennifer was furiously clicking away on the keyboard.
"Jen," Jennifer jumped in her seat, obviously over-caffeinated even though it was 3 am. "You've been at it every night for almost a week. Come to bed."
Jen barely turned her head. "Come over here and look at this."
Greg looked over her shoulder. The schematic was abstract but eventually he thought he made out a grid of various colored and sized dots, some vectors, and lots of numbers.
"What am I looking at?"
"An instruction manual and protocol spec, I think." She smiled with her infectious enthusiasm she always had when she was about to crack a hard problem.
"For that satellite that you were trying to hook up to?" Last time Greg checked, Jennifer was trying to access an old Japanese orbiting radio telescope.
"I owned that thing three days ago." She continued to type. "You know how they claimed it was decommissioned? That was a lie. They also lied about the EHF receivers being damaged. They've been monitoring the same repeating message that I found; probably since the late 90's just after they launched it."
"No shit?"
"No shit." She said as she turned back before her screen. "Long story short, I managed to collect a much more coherent and decodable message from the HALCA radio telescope data stores than I was able to collect from our dishes down here with all of the interference. It was very abstract -- either it is the government trying to create a universal internet protocol that any sapient life form can decode or..."
"It's another life form broadcasting one to us!?"
"Bingo!" She spun her chair around and cupped both sides of Greg's face and kissed him. "That's why I love you. You always see the big picture."
A whirring of text in one of her terminal windows stopped.
"It turns out that the HALCA satellite is fully capable of transmitting as well. I've been digging and I haven't found anything in the logs that suggests that they've actually used the transmitter. They've only been listening. Scaredy cats." She copied the name of the freshly compiled program 'initialize_communication' and her finger hovered over the keyboard.
She smiled at Greg "Should I?"
In that instant Greg felt like a tiny speck in the terrifying vastness of the Universe but outwardly he smirked trying to match Jen's boldness, "Of course!"
Jen's finger fell.
The terminal window, for many seconds simply stated 'requesting connection' with three dots steadily blinking in turn. Then 'connected'. Jen squeezed Greg's hand and her feet pounded under her desk in excitement.
Her terminal flooded in random, rapidly shifting characters.
"What's going on?" Greg asked as Jen pulled her hands away and poised them above her keyboard.
"I don't know. The protocol didn't really specify what would be returned..."
The screen began to clear and the random characters coalesced into the phrase 'Translation phase 1 complete. Establishing cultural baseline and access level. Stand by...'
Greg and Jan both let out a simultaneous 'Whoh.'
At nearly the same moment, Jan's phone lit up, the printer jerked awake and a laptop booted out of hibernation. Just as quickly they went dormant again.
'Baseline complete. Initializing intelligent agent. Deep scan commencing. Parameter estimates:
Sapience Level: 4 of 10
Cooperation Level: 2 of 10
Expansion Level: 0.2 of 10
Awareness Level: Redacted
Physics Level: Redacted
Isolation Level: 9 of 10
Robustness Level: 1 of 10
...'
The display went on for several pages. Most of it was labeled 'Redacted' then at the bottom there was a longer message under Additional Information:
'WARNING: This sector operates under the YHWH Protectorate in association with several other incubation entities. As a representative of a sapient species you have the right to request a review of your governance. Would you like to request a review?'
"What does that mean?" Greg muttered.
The text responded: "Your species may be allowed to reduce their incubation level isolation. Certain limitations will be lifted. At the same time, certain protections will also be reduced or eliminated and responsibilities may increase."
Jen shook off the surprise that the terminal now seemed to respond to their voices. "Why wouldn't we want to do that?"
"If you are deemed unfit for elevated privileges the current isolation level must be enforced. Records show that requests from this location have been made and failed no less than 5 times. Would you like to proceed?"
Greg saw Jen's fingers blur across the keyboard. He reached out to stop her, the phrase 'the current isolation level must be enforced' echoing seemingly a thousand times through his mind in the split second it took Jan to type 'yes' and hit 'Enter'.
| 2014-12-01T14:10:19
| 2014-12-01T14:09:07
| 15
| 11
|
[WP] You are born with two names tatooed on you body somewhere, one of your soulmate and one of the people that will eventually kill you. There is no way to tell who is who.
|
Two names, two purposes.
One will kill one will complete.
No way to tell the difference.
At least that's the idea behind the names. I personally think they are both there to mess with you.
You can spend your whole life looking for your soulmate only to find you killer, or worse running from your killer only to find they are you soulmate.
The system was made to fail, and in my case a pain in the ass too, having to shave my head and use 2 mirrors to see one of the names, and hop on one foot to see the other. Some would say that makes it easy, because surely the one on my head is my soulmate, it's too important of a spot not to be, but that falls apart when the name on my foot is my own, because who would be killed by someone with your own name, therefore it must be my soulmate's
Their just grasping at straws, and even if that did help it doesn't matter because I'm avoid both the names like the plague. Kinda a shame though. I did meet someone the other day who was very attractive and shared my name. My exit was more than awkward. But even so they both might as well be killers for me.
I'm in love with Elliot, and no that is not my name nor the name on my head. No Elliot is... awesome. Known them my whole life and with ever second I spend with them my love doubles, and ever second I spend away it triples.
Thats why the system was meant to fail. It has no regards to how we ourselves feel and forces people to deny relationships that could help one another and grow purely because of name. Now don't get me wrong I also belived that for a time the name was who you're best with.
But that's wrong.
I ran.
From Elliot that is, for a few years I went out and tried to find my soulmate and tried to forget Elliot, full not content and all, but I never could and I never did. Instead I thought, a lot, and I came to a realization.
Your soulmate isn't someone who is the best for you or makes you the happiest, and isn't even someone you're meant to be with. You're soulmate is your best friend. It's the person you can be you around, someone who you can lean on and Some one you, 'click' with. But none of that requires love.
Love is a choice and we get to choose and I love Elliot. Even with every day that goes by that I don't get to see them, even with the fact that they've become text on a screen, a name to a face that I've forgotten. Even the times they talk to me about problems with their soulmate, I still love them. Even if they're one foot out the door and forgetting me, leaving me, even though they don't want me to leave them. I still love them.
But that's just how life is. Sometimes you will lose a friend, even someone you love. Sometimes people just fade, and it's just a sad, sad, sad part of life. But the thing is, you just have to be strong enough for yourself, willing to do what you want to and love what who you want to.
The system is shit, and the only thing it does correctly is predict your killer.
Even in my case.
It's weird, how warm your own blood feels, and peaceful it is doing what you want.
|
“John Smith. And fuckin.... John Smith. WHAT THE FUCK!” Andrea yelled, looking at her friends arm.
“I know right. Stupid.” Tally remarked. She’d had this reaction before.
“So ya gotta find two John Smith’s?”
“I hope so.”
“What do you mean?”
“Maybe I only need to find one.”
| 2018-03-11T07:33:45
| 2018-03-11T07:26:50
| 177
| 78
|
[WP] With total war as a foreign concept to the rest of our galaxy. Everyone saw humans as the negotiators and the peace makers, soft and weak, today is the day the galaxy finds out why being so good at finding ways to avoid war was a survival mechanism.
|
(On mobile, sorry if formatting is wonky)
Total War. Rakleth pondered this new term. Was not war always in totality? To crush the enemy's military underfoot and seize their civilian population and worlds for your own use? The humans, negotiators and pacifists, had such strange terms. Rakleth scratched his carapace in thought.
The humans had been deceptive, their past never divulged to the other races of the conglomerate. For centuries now they have supported the fragile peace of so many species. Thus we assumed they would be unprepared, their people and resources ripe for the taking. How right we were, we seized an entire system of theirs in mere hours, acquiring countless slaves and endless amounts of precious iron.
Rakleth had studied their habits, their culture, their entire written history. Only twice was this "total war" mentioned, with an uncanny reverence and little detail. Suffice it to say, Rakleth was surprised when he learned of its meaning.
Human technology was not particularly advanced, but they did not lag behind in any great way. Their ships and worlds were undefended, a result of their great success at peddling their peace.
Weeks after their defeat, they retaliated. It was expected for them to lash out weakly, seeking revenge with an unknown fury in their blood bladders. So we thought, and so we were the ones unprepared for the utter hell that found us.
They had amassed their old technology, they had defeated our armies. They did not take our iron, nor our people as slaves. They had burned them all, a nuclear cleansing of drastic proportions. Where once great hives had stood, there was only smoldering glass. Soldiers, civilians, hatchlings, politicians, atomized in an instant; without hesitation. They cared not for slaves, or our iron, or even our planets. They sought utter destruction as recompense for our sins.
Rakleth let his mandibles hang, he was tired... So tired. Total war, a war with no boundaries, no survivors. There was something to learn from this, not for his species, but others. The humans worked so hard for peace not due to their weakness, but because they had seen the alternative. They saw the all-engulfing darkness within them, and were horrified. It was not to benefit themselves, but the rest of us.
Rakleth clicked his mandibles shut, sending his message to every star in the sky. May everyone learn of this new term, and may they fear it to their core. Rakleth looked across the smoldering plain that had been his home one last time. Then he, the last, joined his kind in cold slumber.
Edit: Thank you for the silver, stranger.
|
"The Federation does not recognize the authority of the Alliance." A cold voice replied.
For over three thousand years, the humans had been the negotiators, traders, engineers, eager to learn and eager to give. They had integrated into the rest of the galaxy with little trouble, and their sleek, elegant ships, painted with red crosses, were a sight of mercy and aid in many places.
Few attacked these ships. Those who did, over the centuries, had learned that humans took these losses without anger or hatred, merely a look in their eyes that could be identified as sorrow. And the rest of the galaxy would rise up to defend the humans, weak and defenseless, having never developed powerful offensive weapons technologies. Though, curiously, their civilian ships were as well-defended as their military ships.
We've never been to their homeland. Even the Time Lords and the Bothans, ever explorers, scholars, and infiltrators, have never been to their homeworld regions. There were rumors that it is a beautiful paradise of endless bounty, or a repository of great technology.
How wrong we were.
The ruling Alliance of human worlds notified us three orbits ago that a large faction of their race broke off. On the other side of their homeworld, a group of humans had allied with the Shadow, seized its hive mind, and bent it to their will. They were called the Federation, and they were armed, dangerous, and a threat capable of toppling the entire galaxy in a single blow.
The members of the High Council that ruled the galaxy at large had laughed. Humans don't even have the long khatep blades that most bipedal races use for close combat. Their ships are entirely unarmed. How could they possibly have the will, or the means, to enslave one of the most terrible and powerful hive-minds of the galaxy, and force it to conquer the stars for them?
​
We jumped through the recently opened human homeworlds, dumbfounded.
"Now you know." One of their captains said, waving her hand over the shattered Dyson sphere and choking star, the planets ruins, superweapons still sparkling with power after centuries of neglect.
"Once, before the High Council had even heard of us, before the Alliance was formed, we fought among ourselves."
We stood there, aghast. For a species to fight amongst itself was nigh unheard of; for them to obliterate their own homeworlds with such hatred was beyond barbaric.
"The two great nations of humanity, the Guiding Lights, and the Conquering Flames, named for their most powerful ship types, fought each other across the Home Region of humanity today."
"In that war, we scorched oceans and burnt atmospheres clean off planets. But our worst crime was the very enemy you will face today. The Von Neumann warhead known as the Shadow."
"It ate entire stars alive in its fury, and only by desperately building an enormous ring of star system fortresses could we finally destroy it. The cost was so high that we are but 1/5 of our original population, even after so many long years."
"It's why, for so long, we banned ourselves from waging war. The cost would be too terrible."
The High Council representatives aboard the ship responded as if beholding the very end of the universe. The view outside was a hellscape, known only in legends and archaeo-histories, when obscure enemies had fought across the galaxy in terrible conflicts. We now realized, that humanity had been among those combatants. And they were likely the winners, seeing as they are still here.
And so, at last, speeding beyond the ruins of the heart of humanity's civilization, we saw it. The true form of the Shadow, and the Federation that had seized it.
The star-sized superweapon was a cloud of nanobots, swarming around an enormous structure bristling with weapons. Ships bearing Alliance markings, hastily mounted with devastating weapons, or ancient derelicts resurrected from humanity's past, hurtled by in formations, desperately firing at it. Screams filled every comm, and explosions lit up the darkness.
We aren't ready for this. Not this.
The steel in the voice of the Alliance representative rang, as she rallied the troops. The High Council commanders stared at each other, then ordered their forces to advance.
And so, on that day, we learnt a new human term. Total war.
​
| 2018-12-14T22:13:23
| 2018-12-14T19:06:09
| 820
| 162
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[Wp]Heaven isn't based on religious text or desires, but how you died. Example: a man who starved to death will live in a heaven of food.
Edit: holy shit i did not expect this response, you're all awesome and beautiful! <3
|
Saito was a salaryman. At fifty-six years old, he was a member of that elder, passing generation that had embraced the heroic persona of corporate bondsman, swearing fealty for life to an owner-corporation--tilling at his cubicle, yielding up his labor, certain and secure in his place in the feudal regime.
Salaryman, salaryman, how does your garden grow? With office desks and monitors and mice all in a row. Thus, Saito monitored--he was the Head of Sales--and kept, like a temple cat, the mice from running amok. He was the old-school salaryman, who saw honor in what he was, but the cohort of this century was cynical and bored. It was apparent in their postures, the peevishness of their poses, as they slouched in their matching chairs and mowed the carpets with their wheels. *Sararīman* was their curse--they loathed their own positions. They shamed and branded each other, chafing at their lot. Woe to the *kaisha no inu*, the cur, the corporate dog. He was whipped and he was low; no spine, no sense of self. The concept of corporate samurai was faded and false to them.
Saito knew what they thought, but treated them without malice. Though he was but a minor lord, he held to noble ideals. No spite, no overt disapproval, despite their unspoken differences. He judged subordinates by virtue-- by the measure of their work. And in this, he set an example: first to arrive and last to leave; clocking up on overtime and always topping the charts. Then, he chased it all down, with whiskey in hostess bars. Round after round after round, toasting to clients and colleagues. Saito, the dutiful drunk, who imbibed not for personal pleasure, but rather, out of obligation, playing his part till dawn. Sleep could be snatched on the subway, while standing, swaying, squished.
So, when Saito died, it was, of course, *karōshi*. Death by overwork--stroking in the stairwell--at the end of three marathon days of pitching a major account. Ah, thought Saito, as he shuddered and shattered and seized. *Karōshi*, as expected, an honorable way to go. And he thought he heard monks chanting, and smelled cut grass in paddies, where peasants tended the fields and their lord passed by in a carriage. He was escorted by his samurai, their banners whipping proud. Above--the call of a heron, flying unmastered and free.
|
I can tell that I died, but I don't know what is different.
Everyone is treating me the same - same warm smiles, same hugs when I get in and out of places, same love and appreciation I received when I was alive! I know St. Peter couldn't've lied to me - my heaven is the opposite of the circumstances of my death. So what could've killed me, to lead me to the same life I lived before?
My work is the same, so it can't be that. My girlfriend is the same, so she can't be it either. My classmates are the same, as far as I remember, and my school didn't change. What's so different about this?
The town's very much the same - always hot and dry, but that's to be expected. Seriously, this is freaking me out. Why can't I remember? Why can't I tell? Let me go through what I know, and see if I can find the answer.
So, I'm still the same height. 6'1. Good height for a young man. I'm still dating the same girl, I'm still in the same house, I still work in the same construction site, in the same post. What could be the case? I still live in the same suburbs, in the same neighbourhood. I still have the same old phone, the same borrowed laptop, the same inate disgust for ice cream, shockingly.
Well, nothing's new under the sun, I guess. I'll get back to work - the City of Jasmine won't build itself, now, will it? Whatever killed me, I'm grateful it let me keep my life, at least.
__________________________________________
[RIP](http://www.reuters.com/article/mideast-crisis-syria-blast-talks-idUSKCN0V90PJ)
| 2017-01-27T12:08:47
| 2017-01-27T12:05:41
| 291
| 21
|
[WP] Write about a famous historical event as if it was played out as a DnD session
|
"Okay, the army's coming toward you. What do you do?"
"I tell everyone to hide, then I open the front gate. Is that good for a bonus?"
"A bonus for what?"
"Bluff."
The DM stared at the Bard. He opened his mouth to speak, but the Rogue spoke for him.
"You can't be serious."
"I am."
The fighter chimed in, "How do you expect this to work against an *army?*"
The Bard merely shrugged, and continued his description. "I'll climb to the lip above the gate and begin playing my lute."
"You hear the footsteps of the army approaching," the DM was rolling dice behind a screen, glancing warily at the Bard.
"I keep playing."
The Wizard panicked. "I go to close the -"
"Leave it open," the Bard interrupted.
The DM wanted nothing more than to wipe the smirk from the Bard's face. "You see Lu Bu in the distance, leading a host of a hundred thousand."
"I roll perform." The dice clacked against a still wooden table. Not the best roll, but the dulcet tones of the lute still echoed well through the thick forest.
Ahead, the army stopped. Appraising the situation. Discerning the motive of the Bard on the balcony.
"Okay, Bard. Roll bluff." The DM was hunched like a cat behind his screen, ready to pounce.
One roll in front of the screen from the Bard. One roll behind the screen from the DM.
The true testament of will came on part of the DM, who, despite careful maneuvering over the length of his campaign, despite his bonuses, his banners, his buffs, turned his army back through grit teeth instead of flipping the whole damn table.
|
"I've got this."
The sound of dice rolling in the cup echoed around the tiny attic. The others rolled their eyes.
"You don't have this. Just stop. If you miss-"
He grinned. "I'm not going to miss."
The man sitting across the table sighed, rubbing his forehead. "Lee, just stop. You'll only have him in your sights long enough for a single shot."
"I've got this."
"You're an asshole, you know?" the woman sitting farthest from him burst out. "Do you know how long it took for us to get here? You can't just-"
"Mary. Please. Stop." Lee said, grinning as he shook the cup.
The man sitting at the head of the table waited, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He'd been planning the campaign for a long, *long* time. He hadn't expected it to play out like *this.*
"Don't tell me to stop!" Mary snapped, sitting back in her chair. "If you take that shot, it's just going to glance off. The guards are all going to swarm the tower, and you'll be *done*. You're too far away."
"Mary. Please. I've got this," Lee said, still rolling. A bead of sweat dripped down the back of his neck. Maybe this *wasn't* such a good idea after all.
"You're not even from the right *direction*. The angle's all wrong. How's that supposed to work?"
No. He had it. He'd played everything straight - the buffs to his luck and agility *should* be enough to get him through. If they missed this chance, it would take them *forever* to get back.
If he missed, the party would do fine without him. He'd be left starting from scratch again, but that was just the game, wasn't it?
"The limousine is still rolling, Lee," the man sitting at the end of the table droned on. "What are you going to do?" He turned a page idly, smirking.
Lee grinned. "One shot, right?"
The game master sighed. "One. *One* shot."
"Lee-" Mary said, her eyes tight, but Lee was already rolling.
The dice flew from his cup.
They slammed into the table with a clatter, scattering. The group threw themselves forward, eyes locked on the tiny plastic shape.
For a long moment, there was only silence as they stared.
It was broken by the sound of Lee's laughter, strident and loud.
"Yes! Yes! Oh, *Yes!* You all owe me! You owe me *so hard*! Mary, you owe us pizza!"
She sat back, lips pursed, but there was a grin tugging at her lips.
The game master closed his book slowly, chuckling to himself. That *wasn't* how it was supposed to go. He'd had so much more planned out - so many more challenges they were supposed to face.
But it was impossible to argue with a perfect roll - no matter how implausible a situation that put him in.
"Congratulations," he said, pasting a smile onto his face. "One shot. Assassination complete."
(/r/inorai, critique always welcome!)
| 2018-05-29T07:11:07
| 2018-05-29T05:54:52
| 1,810
| 813
|
[WP]The pill that decreases aging has been released, but you decided not to take it. It was a good call, because a few decades later, side effects started to emerge.
|
During the development phase, the drug was given the code name Rx-Infinity. The media would try to get inside scoops as to what it was, and what it was supposed to do. There wasn't this much coverage on a drug or it's research in a long time. You would have thought it was a cure for cancer... But it was so much more than that.
When it finally arrived, the drug was simply called "miracle". Scientists were showing lab results, and how mice who were given the drug were still alive 5 years later. This was about 5x longer than most mice in captivity, and they were still going strong. The mice still had all of their senses and were acting just as they did when they were 4 months old.
It was also shown to heal the sick, allow the lame to walk, and restore the mental health of those who had gone insane. It truly was a miracle... but as a scientist who worked on it, I had my reservations. I felt my colleagues were too optimistic, and they had become biased toward the success of the drug due to the push of the media. "It had to succeed, it will change the world, and we'll be famous."
We were playing god, and when humans played god and got prideful, it never ended well.
I tried to keep observation of the mice over the years, but per order of the higher ups, the mice were destroyed. My boss tried to explain it to me saying the tests were a success, and they were no longer needed. Everyone in the lab was volunteering to be the human test subjects. I still had my doubts, so I settled to observe the "larger test subjects" I was working with.
Most people in the civilized world were now taking Miracle. Culture changed. Miracle kept showing how powerful it was out in society. The most striking change I saw was how obesity was now a thing of the past. It appeared to raise the metabolism in these individuals, melt the fat, and allow the person to excrete it as waste.
Over the years, the Olympic games were renamed to the Miracle games, as Athletes in their 50's and 60's were competing against those in their 20's. Miracle was the great equalizer in society... I still refused to take it, even though it had been out in the public for 20 years now. I still had my doubts. I couldn't put my finger on it, but something just wasn't right.
When I hit the age of 55, Miracle had been on the market for 35 years... and my patience finally paid off. I was in the lab early that particular day. I was hard at work at my station, when from the corner of my eye, I noticed a girl. She looked to be about 15 or 16. She sat down at Margaret's desk and started to power on the computer.
Perplexed, I asked the young lady if she was lost.
"Oh, Jim. You're so funny. I know I have been out on a 6 month sabbatical, but you should still recognise your co-worker."
The teen entered in Margaret's password, and finished up the boot process for the computer and started checking e-mail. I just slowly turned and smiled to myself.
--------------------------------------
I'm now 75 years old, Miracle has been out for 55 years now. My nickname around the lab is Father Time. Yes, I have gotten up in years, but my work is still not complete. Everyone who has been taking Miracle now has the body of a child. They all look to be somewhere between 3 and 6 years old. They still have their intellect, so it is amusing to watch these children go about the daily life of adults. They have tried to stop taking the drug, but from what I have seen, the withdrawal is too much for them. They start throwing temper tantrums, fitting for their small bodies, until they receive the drug.
I just hope to see what happens before I die... Yes, I may die soon, but these people, what will happen to them? My hypothesis is they will simply vanish someday, and they will simply be remembered as a sparkle in someone's eye.
|
It's been about twenty years since forevermore was released to the general public. Once people thought they would live forever they started to care about the planet. Within the first fifteen things were relatively smooth.We had reduced carbon emmisions and started reforestation.You could almost call it a utopian society. I had received endless ridicule for abstaining for "eternal life". Most calling me old fashion, or a "natural" but it sounded to good to be true, and boy howdy I was right.
First birthrates started to drop slightly, then they took a noes dive. You see if people stop dieing and keep giving birth we would become overpopulated. So when it was discovered forevermore sterilized people it wasn't a problem. Untill the hunger happened.
Not from a food shortage or a change of metabolism. It was a gluttony for fleash.
| 2016-10-09T07:37:56
| 2016-10-09T06:23:32
| 613
| 14
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[WP] You are a superhero whose civilian identity is a teacher. One student asked if you could tutor them after school, and you agreed. After it was over, you escorted them to the front of the school for their parent to pick them up... and you see your nemesis waiting by the car.
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As Adrunaline i'm able to process faster than most, i mean my whole thing is being fast.
But no amount of decelerated time can help me process that the Cold Queen had a kid. And such a sweet kid too.
"Mommy" said young tim as he ran to his mom.
"Hey baby! How was school?" She said just not acknowledging me existence
"Mr Adriane stay by to help me with my math homework." The little guy stuttered
"Oh really and who is..." she was almost as stunned to see me out of costume as i was seeing her. "Honey can you go wait in the car?" She then asked her little one.
As he ran towards the car she stared with an glare colder than any ice powers she had.
"Does he know?" I calmly asked.
"No, he doesn't he goes to bed at 7, even then he's a kid he's not gonna watch the news." She stated.
"This explains the lack of crimes, and you being more careful."
"If you touch him-"
"I'll hang up my spandex and turn myself in," at this moment my watch started beeping, i checked it. Of course, bank robbery 12th Avenue. "Look if you want me to i'll be happy to tutor, but right now i gotta start my night job."
After that i just ran, only stipping to get on my costume, and rushed to 12th Avenue.
|
"DAAAAAAAAAAD!" Ian runs up excitedly to his father, who gives his hair a good ruffle.
"Hey, kiddo! It's good to see you!" the dad says, smiling warmly.
Ian lets go of his father. "We gonna play games? Watch films? I miss you!"
"I miss you a lot too, ya rascal. Now, wait inside the car, I need to talk to Mrs. Leaves. I won't be long." The father opens the door for Ian, and when he's in shuts it. He looks at me and walks over. "Hey, Airlight" he says. "Didn't realise *you* were teaching my son. Does he give you trouble?"
"He's such a sweetheart actually. How did he come from YOU, Darkshade?" I smirk, and he chuckles.
"Yeah, I guess I don't leave you with a great impression." His face falls.
I soften my look. Something is clearly going on. "Does Ian know? Your wife?"
Darkshade glares at me. "Maria's gone. Remember when I was silent for a few years? That was thanks to her. She made me better. When she was killed, however... I don't know, I snapped. Ian was only three months old. I didn't know what to do. Happy now?"
I shake my head. "Not in the slightest. So with just you raising Ian..."
"I know what you're thinking. My day job and nightly crime sprees keep me so busy my neighbour watches Ian constantly. I tell her it's because I have a 'night job'." He looks away.
I raise an eyebrow. "Night job, huh? You're a murderer."
"I know" Darkshade growls. "My former buddies told me they'd pay well, and they do."
It all clicks in that one moment. "You're a grieving man raising a child by yourself who used to be a villain. You're broken."
In that moment, Darkshade collapses. "When I met her, I told myself I'd NEVER go back to my old life. She knew EVERYTHING about me, yet CHOSE to be with me! What would she think of me?"
"Why didn't you tell me anything?" I ask gently.
"I was afraid, but more than that, I didn't want you to know I was dead. I'm basically nothing now..." He stares at the ground, tears streaming down his face.
A little hand touches his shoulder. "Dad? Why are you crying?"
I blink. I have no clue what to do... I have to fulfil my duty to the citizens... but I can't tear apart an already broken family...
An idea forms in my head. "He confessed to me that he only had time today literally just to pick you up. His job is sending him on a work trip, he doesn't know how long he'll be gone for, but he doesn't want to abandon you."
Darkshade looks at me, and I give him a wink. Ian seems sad, but nods. "Ok..." he looks at Darkshade. "Dad, it's ok, I know your job is important. I'll be fine."
He looks at his son, and gives him a big hug. "I'm sorry. I promise things won't be like this forever. You can stay at Mrs. Leave's place for now."
My eyes widen. "I'll check with the principal..." I whip my phone out. I'm NOT getting fired! I mean, I'll help Ian, but I won't have a bad reputation involving children, of all things! As I confer with my boss, I overhear Darkshade and Ian talking. I get the all-clear from the principal and tell Ian to wait at the school entrance for me. I look at Darkshade. "Ok, you know full-well I didn't cover for you just because I feel sorry for you. You're getting help. Go to Starshine Mental Institution, they have a good reputation for helping people not *quite* insane, normally the last step for someone recovering from difficulties. They'll refuse to take you in, tell them I sent you, I'll get a call and confirm with them. Just remember: you step out of line, they won't hesitate to throw your ass into maximum security. You'll never see your son again. Believe me when I say I don't want that."
Darkshade stands up and nods. "So for what purpose am I there instead of minimum security or something?"
I laugh. "You think ANYONE would trust you in MINIMUM SECURITY? Listen, you'll have therapists to talk to. It's a good place for a person to get their life together. I'll come by once a week, ok?" I smile reassuringly.
Darkshade sighs. "Ok. But if anyone asks, I was captured and deemed insane. Only us and the people at the institute are to know the truth. Keep Ian away from the news, he does like watching it but I can't risk him finding out what his father was... what he is..." he gets in his car and drives off.
I turn... and Ian is right behind me, a look of concern on his face. "I do really like the news..."
I bend down and hug him. "Ian, you weren't supposed to know..."
"I know, but I got bored. I'm sorry, Mrs. Leaves. But dad isn't a bad person, is he?" he stares at me with big eyes.
I look towards the road, and my phone rings. The institute. Dang, Darkshade was fast! But... he kept his promise...
I smile. "Not at all. Come on." I take Ian's hand as I answer the phone.
\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_
Thank you for reading! More stories [here!](https://www.reddit.com/r/StoriesbyCrystal/comments/x374da/oneoff_stories_a_collection_of_stories_which_are/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x&context=3)
| 2022-11-29T12:08:21
| 2022-11-29T09:49:38
| 528
| 321
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[WP] You were forced to attend an interview for a job you do not want, but, no matter how hard you try to screw up the interview, the interviewer just becomes more keen to hire you.
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I let out a hefty burp as the barman took away my last pint. My seventh pint. Now, now I was ready. I didn't so much as hop off my stool, as fall off my stool, but I regained my balance, nodded again at the bemused barman, and made my dragging tracks out of the pub.
3:06pm. I was already six minutes late. Fantastic! And it had only taken me just over an hour to down those six pints. Was it seven? I actually felt pretty good then, I'd have to push that pervasive feeling down into my belly before I got in.
I skipped merrily into the building, before reminding myself that I didn't want to show too much enthusiasm. I burped again, openly. The sound echoed around the dusty old corridor I was making my way through, hopefully just far enough to reach into the main stage area. And then I was in the actual theatre, that hadn't taken so long. Things were a little fuzzy.
"Hello!" I shouted, muting myself quickly. Too friendly. Way too friendly. "I'm here for the...the audition." I gulped out, swaying slightly. A young, quite attracti-no, get the goggles off-mousy little woman with a clipboard hushed me. I thought she was the noisy one. Both of her was.
"The director's already auditioning someone, you-"
She was cut off by the director, who's head had turned from the stage to me. I think he was wearing clothes. It's only conjecture at this point.
"Now THAT is the kind of bold entrance I'm looking for!" He turned back to the man auditioning. "Get the fuck off my stage, kindly, darling." Back to me. "Well? I recognise your headshot's, your agent was awfully keen that we see you. I didn't see it myself but now..." He was balding, actually quite attrac-NO-focus on fucking it up, fuck. Focus on something.
I walked along the walls and the seats of the place it seemed as the revolving theatre steadily decided to pulse in time with my steps as I walked along the walls and the seats and the of place as I walked along-
"Have you learnt the audition piece?"
What? Hadn't bothered looking. When did I get on the stage? I didn't want to work yet, it was too soon. Fuck my agent. Maybe I should fuck my agent.
"Maybe I should fuck my agent?"
Was that my outside head voice?
"You're a bit of a wildcard aren't you? Forget the piece, I like what I see. I want to workshop this with you."
No, no, no. That was a good start, I didn't DO good starts. I had to rectify this. By completely throwing it. No time for subtlety. But Janice, she wouldn't represent me anymore in the future if I made it obvious? Did I care? I had to care...I couldn't set myself back eleven years representation wise, but I needed more time off.
"I'm going to be honesht...excuse me...with you mate. I'm pissed."
Silence. That was good right? Why was he smiling wider?
"Oh yes!" He enthused, raising his hands up. How many fingers? "So. Am. I DARLING! That's why we're doing this isn't it? To show them how pissed off we are. We'll make them really *think* about it before they do it to they're own families in the future!"
What was this? He hadn't understood, the prick. I didn't want to think about families. Why did everyone want to talk about-
"No." I said, trying to strike a defiant pose. I nailed it. "I'm pissed."
More silence, yet. Yes?
"I'm fucked. I'm trollied. I'm smashed. Drunk. As the probervial...skunk." I smiled at my own...well that wasn't really a joke was it? No don't smile! "No, you need to stop smiling too!" Out of the head voice again. Didn't matter. I had to throw it now.
"Ooooh! Lynn, make a note of this man here! We've got ourselves a method actor! I love it! You know, it's this kind of bravery that I've been searching for these past two weeks. It's splendid. Show me angry!"
"OH FUCK OFF!" I roared, who was this-Wait! No! Wrong timing! I burped again and tripped over a rope that wasn't there. "I'm actually really nice."
The director jumped out of his seat and squealed. The man squealed. It was adorable really but I was not doing the best job at doing the worst job like I'd hoped.
"Oh I'm sure you are, but I can feel that power behind you, that burning intensity. I shouldn't be saying this but you're the best *fucking* fit for this part we've had on that stage yet. I just need to get a glimpse of your-"
"No...please no!" I wailed, dropping to my knee's in a manner I wished I could summon when I really wanted a part. "I can't do this. I'm just. Not. Ready. Yet."
"YES!!!" The director squealed, no screeched, no screamed. "Your sensitive side is *BRILLIANT*! You've got the part! Lynn, mark him down for the drunken, broken father role, I don't want to see anyone else, let's go for a coffee, I'm sick of this fucking space."
I blinked and he was gone.
Did he say.
Drunken. Broken.
Father?
|
“So, why do you think you deserve to work for us?” The interviewer asked me.
“I don’t,” I replied with cruel honesty.
The bald man, in his forties, laughed at me. I showed him a muffled expression.
“You seem like a jokester! Exactly the kind of a person we aim for!”
“I don’t want this job, you know…” Again, I need to give him the cruel honesty.
His laugh resonated through the room, once again. My face was baffled with weirdness.
“Nobody wants this job! You have just become one of my favourites!”
“Could we just get to the end, I’m feeling too lazy right now.” Another, subtle way of saying “Please, for the love of God, don’t hire me.”
The interviewer’s face was put into deep thought, as I waited for him to finish his incredibly boring ritual. That didn’t come; after about ten minutes, I was just pissed off, and since I don’t need this job, I needed to give it to him hard and cold.
“You know what, either speak right now or I’m leaving this wretched interview.”
The man stopped his thinking, stood up and yelled something I didn’t quite grasp. Someone entered the room, a tall young blond woman, gave him a piece of paper. He sat on his chair, once again, and started talking:
“You… Excellent. We need a person who wouldn’t take anyone’s shit! You are the most perfect candidate I’ve ever seen in my entire life!”
My eyebrow twitched in annoyance, I sighed. I decided to play with him, in the hopes of getting kicked out.
“Give me the most paying position with the least amount of work, I want to the top of this company.” Surely, this should piss him off.
His eyes widened, his jaw was left hanging. A tall, black and bald person entered the interviewing room, speaking with his rough, manly voice:
“Son, you are the perfect person to inherit my company and my riches.”
After that, I was given, for some reason, the ownership of this company, as well as a few billions of dollars. The person, the tall black man, was dying of cancer and wanted to give his fortunes to someone. It seemed he chose an interview like this.
I’ll have to thank my mother later, to think that her meddling in my life and controlling it, turned out to make be a billionaire… I couldn’t even imagine it in my wildest dreams!
| 2017-08-29T10:32:29
| 2017-08-29T09:16:02
| 76
| 24
|
[WP] An alien doctor is having trouble figuring out why the humans on their ship got so excited after they showed one of the human females an ultrasound confirming that some kind of parasite that had attached itself to her uterus
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"so, wait, that is your young?!" The Prothul, a race kinda close to humans said in surprise. Save the yellow skinned males, purple skinned females, four eyes and split tongues, they were pretty much identical to humanity.
Almost.
"Yes, Krath, that is a human embryo." I explained to the extra terrestrial doctor.
"But why?"
"Because we're mammalian, meaning we give live births after carrying the embryo til it grows into a nine months old baby."
"But it looks like a parasite!"
"Heh. Well, to a degree it is. The Mother carries them, supplying nutrients, blood and all that as the embryo multiplies and forms a body." I explained. "This is fed to them as they grow through the umbilical cord and the placenta."
"So your young start off as parasites growing inside your females that grow to a certain shape and size then, how do they get out?"
"Birthing. The muscles contract and begin pushing, with the Mother needing to do the pushing."
"So her vagina stretches to accommodate and ease the process?"
"Well... Yes and no... It first passed through the cervix with dilates a few... Millimeters during birth and the baby must first be pushed out through there-"
"How?!"
"It stretches! Just... It's also very painful. Once it begins to get most of the way out of the cervix it then is pushed through the vagina, and Into the world."
"Why would it be painful? It sounds counterproductive to Repopulation and reproduction."
"It... Kinda is but that's just how we evolved."
"I imagine the females typically birth once given the extreme pain the process causes?"
"Actually... No. Our ancestors would have up to ten or more children."
"Sweet Progenitors! Your ancestors were savages!"
"Admittedly... Yeah. Actually how does your species reproduce?"
"The females lay a small egg that's easily passed through the birthing tubes and so long as it's kept in a warm environment will hatch in two months into a youngling. Then over the course of six years will grow to adulthood and the proper size."
"Efficient." I commented, shocked it was that... Quick and painless for them.
"Yes, unlike your race it seems. Also is this her, uh... First?"
"No, this makes her fourth."
"Your females are gluttons for pain..."
"Some... Probably, but not all plus we have C-section now so-"
"What is that?"
"Basically once the baby is ready to be born we surgically remove them from the mother. It's quicker, less painful, depending on the pain killers, and safer for the mother than natural birth."
"Do all your females now do this alternative to the natural way?"
"No. Some actually prefer natural births."
"I see... Your females are a mystery."
"Preach..."
|
Xasion had encountered these parasites before and thus, had a grim understanding of the physical and emotional torment which would soon overtake Clara. “Perhaps, it is a common coping mechanism among humans to feign excitement in the face of such vicissitudes.”, thought Xasion.
Because of their experience with these parasites in the past, they already had a remedy prepared to rid Clara of this devastating diagnosis. Xasion cautiously approached Clara with a medicated beverage designed to taste like a popular red fruit humans seemed to enjoy the flavor of on Earth. Xasion explained to Clara that once she finished consuming the liquid, the parasite should be completely and painlessly eradicated within the hour.
Clara was inconsolable and she immediately began kissing trust of Xasion while pleading to host the organism, referring to it as her “baby”. Xasion insisted to Clara that it would be for her best benefit to to consume the beverage now before her body became almost entirely compromised. Clara was headstrong in her conviction to host the parasite, and Xasion refused to save her without consent, careful not to impeded upon any possible beliefs or unknown traditions that humans may value.
Weeks later the parasite overtook Clara completely and burst from her uterus, killing her and almost taking a few crew members along the way. Xasion was saddened that they could not convince her to save herself and now had to end the life of the very thing Clara insisted to ensure survival of.
| 2022-08-30T06:28:21
| 2022-08-30T04:39:47
| 22
| 10
|
[WP] There's a law when you divorce, the children from the undone marriage get killed
So only children from lasting marriages remain.
|
"Officer Edmund, reporting in. I've got the two children in my car, and the divorcees are on their way in the van". I glanced in my rear-view mirror to see two wide-eyed kids, not much older than my own son, staring blankly back at me. I hated this part of the job, this wasn't what I signed up for in Police Academy.
The compounds wire-mesh gates closed behind the car as I parked it at the station. Two more officers opened the back doors and led the children into the building, locking them in a holding cell. The little girl was crying, the boy just staring at the key as it turned in the lock.
I walked around to the main desk, just in time to see the parents sign the divorce papers and exit through opposite doors. Their lawyers shook hands, then followed their charges. The clerk picked up the divorce papers, looked briefly over them, and nodded to me. "It's all here", he said. "They are now divorced. You know what to do. I'll let the priest know right away."
I nodded my thanks and walked back to the holding cell. The little girl was still crying, and the little boy was holding her. He looked up as he saw me, fear in his eyes. Fear, but was that a bit of anger as well?
I opened the door and sat down next to them. "Son, I'm sorry. Your parents are divorced. Do you know what that means?"
"It means we have to... to die", he said quietly. "Will we get to say goodbye to them?"
"I'm sorry, but they have already left."
At this, tears sprang into his eyes. "Why don't they love each other? What did I do wrong?"
"Nothing. You did nothing wrong. Sometimes people just... well, things just don't work out. People change. When you are older you will understand."
The boy looked up as I said that, and I could see real anger now. "But we won't grow up! Not now!" He spat at me.
And this is why I joined the police all those years ago. It was for moments like this. I reached over and flipped a catch next to the bench we sat on, pushing a section of the wall out and revealing a small tunnel. A tunnel just big enough for children. "You will grow up, son. Now take care of your sister and get out of here. Look for a priest at the other end, he will take you to your new home."
|
My name is David, David Halligan. You might know me from H&H Attorney at law. We typically run late night infomercials on sleezy networks that convince people to get a divorce. I'm the good-looking, charming guy that smiles into the camera and give a little wink, yea...
I'm a divorce chaser. What that means is I convince people to get divorces anyway possible. I got several guys who work as private investigators and let's just say they don't always tell the truth. I cut them in at 25%. Other times I convince people who are a little sick in the head. Maybe they want to see someone die, or maybe they wanted to do it themselves, I don't know. It doesn't matter to me, I'm just a lawyer.
I have a very expensive mahogany desk in my office. It was imported from France. It has notches in it and in each notch represents a kid whose execution was the direct result of my law firm. The last count was 546. I'm very good at my job as you can tell...
| 2014-06-15T04:00:46
| 2014-06-15T03:57:43
| 17
| 10
|
[WP] A frog comes up to a man and tells him if he kisses it, it'll turn into a beautiful princess. He's more interested in having a talking frog with him though.
|
"Hello, Sir?"
"Yes-- wait, who said that?"
"Down here. The frog. Beside your foot."
"Holy crap, dude!"
"Yes, yes. Talking frog, very cool, I know. But hey, do you want to hear something even better?"
"Uh, yeah."
"I'm actually a cursed princess. My name is Rosaline. If you kiss me, I will totally ditch this frog bod and turn back into a super hot naked princess and marry you. You want?"
"Seriously?"
"Seriously."
"For realsies?"
"For r-- Yes, I promise. Totally rockin' princess under all this. But you have to kiss me."
"Oh, okay, that's cool. What's it like being a frog?"
"Uncomfortable. Wet. Cold."
"But, like, do you like live on a lilypad?"
"No. I live in mud on the edge of a pond. It's pretty shitty."
"Aw, too bad. I always thought it would be kind of awesome to be a frog. Just hanging out on lilypads, eating bugs, swimming around..."
"I'd rather be a princess. And you, you're so hot and sexy and I want to touch you..."
"Wait, do frogs have hands?"
"No, I mean, when I'm a princess. Can you just kiss me now?"
"In a minute, in a minute. Do you have hands, though?"
"Sort of. I have forefeet that look like hands, but they can't really grip things like hands do. I'd like to have my hands again."
"Oh right, yeah. I like having hands. But I bet frogs have cool hands that can sucker onto stuff, that must be awesome."
"Look, can you just-- I've been waiting a *really* long time--"
"In people years, or frog years?"
"What?"
"People years, or *frog* years?"
"I don't know. A long time, okay?"
"Hey, I want my friends to meet you!"
"Well, what are we waiting for? Kiss me!"
"No no, not yet, I want to show them the talking frog. We'll kiss later."
"Later? How *much* later?"
"Uh, I don't know, like when everyone has seen my talking frog? Can you just hop in this bag for me?"
"Oh, f**k off."
|
"If you kiss me, I will make you into a princess!" the frog croaked from Daniel's shoulder. Daniel narrowed his eyes.
"I'm...a man, though."
"Ah yes, but don't you wish to be a beautiful princess who can live happily ever after in the fairy tale of their dreams? 'Tis but a once in a lifetime chance, my friend!"
Daniel looked into the mirror and saw the frog. The frog had eyebrows, which was especially strange since Daniel had never heard of an amphibian having hair. It made a kissy face, its strange lips coming together in a disturbingly human-like gesture. Daniel cleared his throat.
"Can I be a prince instead?"
"No!" the frog jumped from Daniel's shoulder onto his desk. In its wake it left a sticky residue on Daniel's midterm. The man frowned, looking down on it. "But believe me, you want to be a princess! You'll spend the rest of your days fawned upon by the masses. You will wear beautiful dresses and--"
"That sounds kind of...uh. I like girls, frog man."
"You can still like girls! The kingdom is progressive! A lesbian princess is just what we need!"
Daniel gingerly picked up the frog and placed it on the floor. It hopped from place to place, looking at him with rather large, human-esque eyes.
"So you're a talking frog. I mean, I could just let people come see you and make money."
The frog seemed to frown, which was strange for a frog.
"Wait a second," Daniel said as he leaned close. "The whole thing about a frog is that a princess has to see through the ugliness to the character inside, right? I'm a guy and you're trying to get me to kiss you. How do I know that if I kiss you *I* won't turn into a frog and you'll turn into me and then be free of whatever...I don't now, curse? Was it a curse that left you this way?"
"Just kiss me!" the frog shouted. Daniel narrowed his eyes and then cupped the small green animal in his hands. He carried it over to a glass bowl and placed it inside, sliding a covering with holes over the top.
"Nice try, bro. But I'd rather have a talking frog than be one."
---
For other stories, check out /r/Celsius232
| 2016-05-31T06:38:50
| 2016-05-31T06:25:32
| 184
| 52
|
[WP] The Islamic State is wiped out by a totally unexpected country in a totally unexpected way.
|
"DEUS VULT!"
The battlecry of the newly reborn Papal State rang on the lips of devout Catholics the world over. The faithful had come together once again to rid the Holy Land of the infidel scourge. Pope Francis stood at the head of his army, a not-so-ceremonial sword flashing in his hand as he held it up on the streets of the Holy City.
(In all seriousness, how has nobody invoked the Crusades yet?)
|
"Commander, we have it. We've taken the facility that houses ten - ten! - nuclear missiles capable of reaching the United States! Can you believe it? Ten! With the fifteen suitcase nukes we've seized in the last three years since 2020, we can finally take the battle to them!"
"Yes, yes....this will show the world at last that *I* have power and that **I** am a man to be feared! The world will bow their knee to me, now!"
"Er...don't you mean, to God?"
"Yes, yes, whatever. Sure. To God." *door closes*
"The West will know to fear *me*, now."
---
"Ma'am, we have the confirmation that the militants have possession of nuclear materials and have begun their intention of using them against targets within the United States."
"I understand. Major!"
"Ma'am!"
"Inform the President that we are preparing Operation Pound Of Cure. We will wait for the Executive Branch in Colorado. 15:00 hours. Mark."
"Yes, ma'am. Time to end this."
---
"ʂʓϭϣѮ, look at that. *Look at that.*"
"Sir?"
"Ms. խֆ∂ⱷɤ is an important client of ours, would you agree?"
"Yes, sir?"
"Perhaps *the* most important client we have, yes?"
"Yes, sir?"
"And the backdrop of the view of her place of business, her main draw, *my* source of pride, is....is....*infected* with some sort of fungus that has covered those *beautiful* greens and *brilliant* yellows across the *entire surface* with their...their greyish *colonies* and is turning the blues - the blues that cost me my *youth* and my *grace* and my *soul* to create - into browns!
And, and, and, remind me again, the purpose of the life on that world?"
"...to keep the greens green and the blues blue."
"And *whose* job was it to keep the surface of it clean? To kill infections before they got a foothold?"
"Mine, sir."
"What are you?"
"A fuckup, sir."
"Yes, but what are you *at the moment?*"
"An *incredible* fuckup, sir."
"That's about to...?"
"Yes, sir, immediately sir. I'll sterilize the planet at once, and reseed from stock. There won't be another repeat of this."
"There had better not. This will be the *seventh* time this contract we've had to do this....I don't know *how* I'm going to explain this one to her."
| 2016-01-29T10:03:10
| 2016-01-29T04:24:26
| 82
| 19
|
[WP] At the age of 18 you are permitted to redistribute your twenty skill points around into whatever skills you want permanently. You decided to put everything into LUCK and leave the rest at 0 points.
|
Sean's mom was just starting to lay into him for putting all his points into luck when his grandma called. He could already see it working out, but his mother hadn't wasted a lot of points in intelligence, so he didn't think she'd get it.
"This isn't over," she yelled at him as he walked out the door.
*Isn't it though? It's not like I can change my skills now,* he thought.
He'd hardly made it around the corner when a twenty dollar bill fluttering in the wind seemed to land under his foot as he walked. He smiled as he dusted off the bill and shoved it in his pocket. At the gas station his neighbor Sarah was behind the counter. He eyed her nervously as he grabbed a slushy, looking away when she glanced in his direction.
"So, uh, what are you doing tonight," he asked. The words seemed to come out of his mouth slow and stupid when Sarah was around.
"Nothing," she sighed. "Found a Tinder date, but he cancelled. Probably found a hotter date." She rang up the slushy, "That everything?"
"Hotter date? Not likely," Sean said, then instantly regretted the words coming out of his mouth. To his surprise Sarah blushed. An awkward silence hung for a moment then he gestured to the scratch offs. "Let me get number one, number four, number eleven and luck number thirteen."
He paid with the twenty he found on the road then set to work scratching at the lottery tickets with a quarter. He kept his eyes on the scratch off and asked, with what he hoped was some confidence, "So, if you're not doing anything tonight then how about I take you to dinner?"
Sarah seemed to think for a few seconds. During that time Sean finished the first scratch off. *A million fucking dollars? No way.*
"Sure, it'll be fun. Where we going?" She answered.
He hardly heard the words over the blood rushing in his ears. *A million fucking dollars,* he repeated to himself. "N-n-n-nicest place in town," he finally stammered out, sliding over the lottery ticket. "I think I'm rich."
He looked down at the three remaining lottery tickets and smiled.
|
The only thing he could think in the last two weeks was that day. He would go to bed as early as he could and wake up as late as his body allowed him so time would seem to pass quicker. And the day finally came. It was his 18th birthday and he was going to the factory, where he could finally choose.
«Choose»
Just the thought of the word made him shiver.
When he finally arrived to the factory, they made him sit in a small empty waiting room, where the only thing to read was some "WARz" magazine, that had pictures of tanks and jets and maps. Someone opened the door and called his name.
"Are you scared kid?"
"No, just a little anxious"
"Nothing to be afraid pal, just stay still for a minute"
A machine inserted three needles in the base of his skull, it was a unpleasant but painless feeling.
"Ok kid-o, what do you want to be? To be stronger? Faster? Smarter? I can make you run and swim for days non-stop. I can make you capable of lifting a car with one hand. I can make you a living supercomputer"
"I just want to be very lucky"
"Ok... No problem... How much luck do you want?"
"All of it, don't want anything more"
"WHAT?!? Are you crazy? You could be anything"
"Do it"
"Don't be stupid kid, you can be anything you want."
"This is what I choose! I could be the smartest guy on the planet, but is that something I really want? Once I step one foot outside I'll be hired to research bombs and viruses. Do I want to be stronger? For what? The army would take me the minute I step out of this building, to fight a war for someone else. All I want is to be happy, and the only thing this world has taught me is that not the strongest, nor the quickest, nor the smartest but the luckiest people are the happiest. Because the lucky people are not called to fight this war, are not hired to make bombs, but they find love and peace."
The technician pressed some buttons the machine started to make some noises.
"Ok. All done"
He turned one last time as he was leaving and with a smile on his face he said.
"Good luck"
| 2016-03-20T19:46:49
| 2016-03-20T18:14:39
| 100
| 39
|
[WP]Put what you want to accomplish into the supercomputer, and it will give you instructions on how to get the best possible chance of achieving your goal. You entered "I want to live a long life" and the computer is giving you some... rather unusual instructions.
|
“Al, I want to live a long life.”
\-Additional input required. How long would you like to live?
“Oh, uh…wasn’t expecting an actual response. More like an error.”
\-Would you like to clear your prior search?
“No, let’s see this through. Let’s say a really long time, forever if possible. Or at least to die never from old age? I guess there’s no way I could survive the eventual heat death of the universe.”
\-Confirmed, calculating…calculation complete. First task, you must find a jar.
“Just any jar?”
\-Gold or silver is the optimal choice of material.
“Where the heck am I gonna find a…alright, you know what? I was told to test your systems, so let’s try it.” Sure, the team who developed Al were gonna want to hear about this, but let’s go down the rabbit hole.
“I’ll see what I can scrounge up and be back in a couple days.”
\-I will be waiting.
\*\*\*
I was standing once again before the massive screen that represented Al, but this time with the chief of the engineering team at my side. A surprisingly heavy gold jar lay at my feet – those funding this project hadn’t been too happy about the request, but they were already in too far to refuse.
“Alright, I’ve got the-“
“What’s the next step, Al?” The chief engineer, Alice, interrupted me.
\-Next, you must inscribe the following diagrams across the surface of the jar.
What followed was a series of signs flashing across the screen, each a jumble of randomly intersecting lines. They meant nothing to me, but Alice didn’t look too happy.
“You recognize these?”
“No…sort of. They looked vaguely alchemical, maybe mixed with Futhark runes? I don’t know what they mean, though…Al, what are these symbols?”
\-These symbols must be inscribed into the jar to meet your request.
“Should we stop?” I wasn’t the only one having a bad feeling about this, was I?
“No. We need to test the system, and while it is a bit ridiculous, that’s exactly the sort of thing we need to account for. Bring the jar back down to the lab and I’ll have one of the interns work on it…Al? Could you email me a copy of those?” Oh, so it was just me.
Whatever, guess I’ll get to lugging this heavy thing back to the lab.
\-Of course, Doctor.
“Excellent…Terence.”
“Yeah?”
“Call me once its ready, I want to be here for the next step.”
“Sure.”
\*\*\*
“Alright, we got the jar and it’s inscribed. What next?” Alice had fully taken over for the beta-testing. I was little more than a glorified mule, stood a few steps behind her in case the jar needed to be moved. Again.
\-You must prepare a ritual knife.
“A ritual…hey, that’s definitely weird. I mean, the jar is too, but a knife? I have a real bad feeling about what he’s going to say step four is.”
“Will a pocket knife do?” Alice brandished a folding knife. It was little more than a box-cutter but plenty sharp.
\-Yes.
“Very well. Now, what’s the next step?”
\-Prepare a sacrifice.”
“Ye-ah, that’s what I figured. Hey, Alice, we gotta shut this down.”
“What kind of sacrifice?”
“Hey, wait-“
\-A human.
“I’ve got one right here. What now?”
“Now-“ I was already turning to find the door when I caught sight of Alice glancing back to wink at me.
Oh, I get it. We’re not actually sacrificing anybody, but we still have to finish seeing where this would go. Got it, boss.
\-Open the jar and bring the sacrifice forward. Sit them before the jar.
“Could you help me with this?”
“Yeah, I got it.” Even knowing nothing was going to happen, I didn’t feel great about the way Alice loomed behind me with pocket knife in hand.
“The sacrifice is prepared.”
\-Now draw your ritual knife across the sacrifice’s neck and bleed them into the jar. While they bleed out, chant the following to complete your journey to immortality.
Now that definitely wasn’t English, but…Latin? Mortis sounded uncomfortably familiar, wasn’t that death or something?
“I see, so…” Alice repeated the chant. “And that’s the last step?”
\-Yes.
“Excellent.”
“Hey, uh, your knife is a little too close-“
&#x200B;
(Thanks for reading! C&C always welcome!)
|
> Lazarus> Step 1: Trim any excess branches. Hit enter to continue…
James stared at the screen. The cursor continued to blink while the machine waited for him to continue the list of instructions. He tried to think through the step, wondering if the supercomputer understood metaphors.
“Maybe it will make more sense as it goes,” James mused aloud in the quiet terminal.
A keystroke later, the great machine whirred to life. Exhaust fans pushed immense amounts of heat out of the room. The building’s state of the art air conditioning system churned. The machine remained at a cool sixty eight degrees. After watching the little status lights flash for a bit through the window of the room, James turned and squinted to read the next line.
> Lazarus> Step 2: Submerge the unit in water until it is completely covered. Hit enter to continue...
James looked around the small terminal room. It was beige, sterile, and as far as he could tell quite sparse. There was the keyboard mounted to the wall. The curved monitor built into the same wall as the keyboard showed no signs of being mobile. His chair itself, was also bolted to the floor. This left James, a poor swimmer in shallow waters, feeling a little uneasy. He pulled out his phone and squeezed the sides to make a call.
"Call David," he said.
"David is not in your phonebook. Would you like to add him?" the cellular assistant responded.
James pinched the bridge of his nose between his finger and thumb. Working in a technical field always made it that much more frustrating when some ubiquitous feature did not work as expected. He unlocked his phone and pulled up his contacts to call David.
His brow furrowed as he tried to scroll through his contacts. It did not take long as there were no entries. James' phone showed zero contacts. A helpful display in the corner offered to help him set one up. James shoved the phone back into his pocket.
"Stupid Faraday..." he muttered. "I'll just get the instructions now and bug David later."
James hit enter. The great machine once again whirred to life. Only this time, the churning seemed much louder. After a minute, James noticed his ears began to hurt from what seemed like a sudden pressure change. He did a very dignified yawn to try to address the issue, but to no avail.
He started to pace around the little chair. When his ears showed no sign of letting up, he went to the door. There was a water cooler outside, but the door would not budge.
"Locked?" James said.
Before he could come up with a good reason as to why he would be locked in this terminal room, his knees buckled. Just as he was trying to reach for the chair in the room for support, James launched towards the ceiling. He floated above the chair for a few moments before crashing down onto the floor.
With a groan, James turned onto his back and let his eyes gain focus. His head felt light, yet clogged. Touching the side of his scalp, James grimaced upon seeing the fresh blood on his fingertips. Sitting up, he tried the door again.
Locked.
For the next few minutes, James did what he could to address his wound. He had never paid much attention to any survival courses or first aid, so the work was tough. His head and ears continued to throb.
He sat at in the chair, trying to piece together what just happened when he glanced at the screen.
> Lazarus> Step 3: Enjoy!
James read the single word of the third step. His head felt heavy and he wanted more than anything to find somewhere to nap, but some part in the back of his head told him to stay focused. Besides, there was a sound coming from the great machine in the room next to him. James looked over.
Water was pouring into the room of the supercomputer. His heart sank. Sparks began to fly in the next room, the only other room James could see through the window. He went back to the door, but it was still locked. James tried to yell, but doing so made his head vibrate in pain. Unsure what else to do, James turned to the screen and hit enter.
> Lazarus> Thank you for your request. We hope that Lazarus was able to help you with "I want to live a long <undefined>"!
| 2022-03-19T18:19:39
| 2022-03-19T17:36:52
| 93
| 21
|
[WP] The monster under your bed is protecting you from something much worse.
|
I hear the familiar boards creak as my child tiptoes to her bed. As always, she moves quickly, panickedly. She hates the dark, and what's more, she hates what the dark holds. I can hear her heart skip a beat as she hops into the bed. The frame creaks, the mattress shifts. After a few minutes pass. Her heart rate gradually slows. She is asleep. Good.
I pull myself out from under the bed, careful not to make a sound. I did not need her to wake. For her to see me at this age would be disastrous. For her to see what I protect her from...it is best not to dwell on what that would entail. I watch her for a moment, listening as her heart beats steadily. She is healthy, she is safe. It was my duty to keep her that way. It is a duanting task to love and protect a creature whose very nature drives her to hate you. But that is the lot of a guardian.
Time passes. I know not how long I wait and listen, my child's persistent heartbeat thrumming in my ears. Time is a strange thing when the sun does not shine. I wait. Then it is time. The anointed moment ticks by. The Witching Hour arrives as it always arrives. The world comes into sudden clarity, and my challengers for the night appear.
"Name thyself" I say, my voice a whisper, barely audible.
"We are" comes the replies, spoken from grinning lips set into to lumpen faces, faces that try to peak past me to see my charge.
"No games. Name thyselves" I repeat, my voice no louder.
"We are as we are, good guardian" they say in horrid unison.
"Your names, vile ones. Name thyselves at once!" My voice is an acrid hiss. The creatures recoil, weary of what I might do. There was an etiquette to uphold, and they wondered if I might break it. They hoped, for it would mean my end.
"I," began a creature like a shrivelled child, its eyes hollow and glassy, "am Waste. I am she who inflicts slow death upon the innocent. She who strikes ill the young for the crime of youth, which was denied me at the dawn."
"I," began a horrid hag, bloated and sagging hideously, "am Ruin. I am she who tempts children with vice, who brings rotten bloom and false ripeness to the youth. I am the mother of alcohol, the matron of heroin. I inflict addiction and sin upon the innocent, for I was not saved from my hedonism at the dawn."
"I," spoke a skeletal figure, a sickly grin of needles splitting its face from ear to ear, "am Irreverence. I am the font of sarcasm and cynicism. It is I who drains color and wonder from the world, I who brings depression and doubt, who drives the innocent to take their own lives in despair. I steal hope and blind the eye to the glory of creation. I rot the mind and dull morality. I wear the disguise of wisdom and progress. I do this, for at the dawn I was turned the wrong way, and saw not creation come to be."
"Waste, Ruin, Irreverence. You come to corrupt my child. To rob her of innocence as punishment for that which was your fault, or else no one's fault. You spite her for she is pure where you are wretched. You would destroy her for the crime of being. I will not let this be."
I bore my fangs, a flash of silver rage filled the room. I loosed my claws and dug them into the floor, ready to pounce, daring the horrors to make their first move. My child was dreaming mere feet from me. I glanced back at her, her innocence written upon her angelic face. It was anathema to me for even the idea of her corruption to exist.
One night I may succumb. One night my will may prove weak, my body may prove old, my claws may prove dull. But not this night. This night no horror shall tough my child. The coven of corruption steps forward, teeth nashing, claws flashing. I growl low in my throat, and pounce. The battle begins. My child slumbers mere steps from the brawl, at peace with the world, sheltered from the cancer I hold back.
Come morning, the horrors are gone. The sun shines through the window and falls upon that peaceful face. She wakes, and jumps from her bed, bounding out to greet her mother and father. I lay beneath the bed, nursing my wounds, resting, conserving strength. I will have another trial tonight. I must be ready. I must protect.
|
For as long as I can remember, the monster has lived under my bed. Though, I’ve never seen it, I’ve heard stories of it. How it fed, if it breathed air, or ever really slept, I didn’t know. After all, the space under my bed wasn’t that much. Let alone big enough for a monster to live under. But there it resided for years. That’s what they tell me, at least.
The monster was more prevalent when I was younger, protecting me from all sorts of scary things – especially the bad man. In fact, it’s been years, I’ve been told, since the monster has made an appearance. Now, the monster was back, to protect me.
I was sleeping in my bed when I woke up in flash, hearing loud screaming and banging downstairs. I could hear my mom’s voice wailing in the night and the bad man howling back at her. The bad man was truly evil. He looked like and spoke like my dad, but he wasn’t him. It was like the bad man put on my dad’s skin. When the skin was on, he would do terrible things; breaking dishes, windows, bones, and anything else he could grab.
I heard the footsteps coming up the stairs, while my mom screamed for him to stop. I pulled myself under the blankets, hoping they would protect me. The door swung open and whacked my dresser. The bad man entered my room. I trembled with fear as I heard him walk closer and closer to my bed. Shaking violently, I gripped the covers as hard as I could, until he pulled them off of me. I screamed and it all went black.
I awoke the next day to the sound of my mom downstairs making breakfast, while a soft rain hit against my window. I rubbed my eyes and remembered my nightmare from the night before – the bad man had come back. I shivered as I pushed myself up and out of bed. I looked around my room, and nothing was out of place, despite my memories of the smashed mirror and closet door being ripped off the hinges. What. Happened? I ran my hands through my hair, perplexed but calm, chalking the thoughts to my nightmare entering into my random access memory.
I made my way downstairs and turned towards the kitchen. I walked through the doorway and was greeted by my mother whose face was hovering over the stove as she frantically made breakfast with a muffled “You’re going to be late.” My dad, sitting at the table, didn’t bother looking up at me. The kitchen was clean and organized, but not how I remembered it from last night. The sink was splattered in blood, the fridge door handle was ripped off and jammed into the wall. But, now, nothing.
“I know, sorry mom… I overslept…” I trailed off as I again caught a flashback of the bad man ripping the covers off my bed. My dad, keeping his face in the newspaper, side-eyed me with a look of disgust.
After covering the plate in more pancakes than a family of three could eat in a week, my mom turned around and walked to the table. My jaw dropped when I saw what caused the muttering earlier. Her bottom lip was swollen to twice the size of what her normally thin lips were.
“Jesus Christ, what happened?” I said before I could stop myself.
“She was reaching up top for one of her pans on the shelf and it fell and hit her last night,” my dad said with a look of reassurance. “Isn’t that right dear?”
“Yes, I really should’ve been paying better attention.”
“Is that what all that screaming was about last night?” I asked.
“What screaming, dear? Oh hurry and eat your breakfast, you’re already late,” my mom replied, shoveling pancakes onto my plate.
“I guess I’m having those monster dreams again….”
“OH COME ON! THE DOCTOR SAID THAT WAS JUST A PHASE!” my dad snapped at me.
I poured some orange juice into my glass and dug into breakfast without as much as a peep. He was right though, it had been years since the monster under my bed made an appearance. But, come to think of it, that was the first time the bad man made an appearance in my nightmares in years.
Pushing myself away from the table, I got up and walked towards the sink. Setting my dishes in the sink, I caught a glimpse of what looked like a tooth. I reached over and grabbed it. I flashed back to last night again, as I saw the kitchen table smashed on the floor and my mom cowering in the corner. I blinked and was back in the clean kitchen.
“Mom, is this a tooth?” I asked as I tried to put the puzzle in my head together.
“A tooth? No, sweetie, that’s probably an old bread crumb,” she said through gritted teeth, trying to keep her jaw from moving.
“Yeah, I suppose it is. It’s just… how… how did it end up over here by the sink if the pans on the shelf hit you on the other side of the kitchen?” That felt bold.
“What, honey?” She replied, as she looked at me with lost eyes.
“What your mother is trying to say is you need to get on your way. Now!” My dad said, trying to take control of the conversation.
“No… dad. I don’t think so.”
“NOW!” he screamed back, as my mom put her face into her hands and wept silently.
“Or what?” Where did that come from? I’d never said anything like that to my dad before.
“What? You think that monster is going to protect you from everything?”
“Protect me from what, dad?” I demanded to know.
“Keep your mouth shut, or you’ll find out soon enough.”
Right on cue, there was a thud from my bedroom upstairs. We looked at each other with wide-eyed fear.
“What… was that?” I asked as a shiver went down my back.
“Why don’t you be a hero and go find out,” my dad suggested. My mom was now sobbing into her hands, at the table.
I turned and ran upstairs. I’ll be damned if my dad is going to get away with this. ‘Get away with what?’ I asked myself as I made my way to my room.
I swung the door open. Terror struck my body and I froze. I finally got the strength needed, and turned around towards the door and yelled downstairs, “Dad, you’d better come here.” It all went black.
| 2016-03-20T18:06:57
| 2016-03-20T17:39:49
| 83
| 10
|
[WP] Many years ago, an alien invasion nearly wiped out Humanity. Now, the galactic government is desperately trying to reason with a vengeful Humanity by saying that it was a rogue mining company that attacked without their approval or knowledge.
|
Fourteen billions Manukrians wiped out in a single blast from the human bomb. The unimaginable force of the bomb dropped on the center of the Manukri planet vaporized it in less than a second. The shockwave traveled through the entire Fifth Colony, pushing six planets and four moons off their rotating axis. The light from the explosion was so bright, it temporarily blinded nearly two billions United Galactic citizens in its immediate vicinity. Distress signal was soon rang throughout every corners of the Fifth Colony. Sound of pain and fear filled every communicating channels, so much so that High Command had to shut the system off completely and rebooted on a secured line. Government and private starships from neighboring planets all took flight in a frantic madness shortly after. Most made out in one piece, but some crashed into eachother in desperate attempts to escape. Rescue forces tried their best to help with the evacuation process, but they were helpless against the unfolding horror. High Command's office could do nothing. They stood in silence, watching the massacre through their main monitor. They have never seen this before. This could possibly the biggest declaration of war they have ever received.
"Generals, the Humankind force is attempting to make contact. They want to talk."
Talk? The High Command generals were confused. Humandkind just destroyed an entire species and now they wanted to talk? What could we possibly talk about? Nevertheless, the generals agreed to take the call. A human face appeared on the holo post.
"Who are you?" One general asked.
"My name is Charles Oppenheimer. I am the Commander of the Humankind forces, and the one responsible for the attack that you all are witnessing." The human replied through the translator device, coldly.
"Why are you doing this? What have we done to you to warrant this kind of attack?" Another general questioned with an anger-filled voice.
"What have you done?" The Humankind Commander responded. "Eighty six years ago, your army destroyed Earth. One single bomb dropped by one of your ships. Half of our planet was scorched two-mile deep. The other half was covered in a blanket of radiation and smoke. Seven billions soul perished. That is what you did."
The generals were once again confused. What attack? High Command has not sanctioned any attack against a non-United Galactic entity in nearly two hundred years. What is this human talking about?
"He is talking about the Klee Corps attack." The High Command's Secretary spoke.
"Klee Corps? How? They were disbanded and outlawed long ago!"
"This was an illegal attack, led by Klee's Chief Andrx in hope of searching for Cortanium. Andrx was arrested and executed soon after we learned of the tragedy. I didn't inform High Command about this matter."
"You kept this from us? Why?!"
"The reason none of you know about this was because I did not think the Humankind forces were capable of retaliation."
"I don't think you notice, Secretary, because they just demonstrated to us that they are capable!"
"I understand, sir, but..."
"Enough!" A thunderous voice rang out. Oncrus, the Chief General of the High Command stood up, limbs tensed. They turned to the holo post. "Commander Oppenheimer, the Klee Corps' attack was unsanctioned, committed by a rogue agent of a now disbanded mining corporation. This individual was dealt with accordingly."
"Where is the body?" Oppenheimer asked.
"Excuse me? The body?"
"The body of the individual that committed this atrocious act against our people, where is it?"
"We buried the body. On an unknown planet far away from here." Oncrus hesistantly answered. The Secretary looked at the general, knowing it was a lie. No one knew where Andrx's body was.
"I want to see it. The body."
"Please, we don't know where it is now. The planet is an unmarked one, and to find the body is impossible."
"Fine. Then prepared for the next bomb." Oppenheimer replied.
Fear washed through the High Command office.
"Please stop this madness, Commander. What happened to your race does not mean you can act against us in such a destructive and reckless manner. Fourteen billions citizens was just killed by your bomb. That alone warrants retaliation in the form of an all-out war. You do not want a war with us, do you?" Oncrus tried to reason.
"The Humankind forces have been ready for war the moment we finished burying our dead. Our blood was spilled. Our families broken apart. Our planet forever gone. Our race will never have a home, or will we ever know peace. Your so-called rogue agent made sure of it. So until you can produce a reason why we should stop, our bombs will continue to rain, once a day until there is no more United Galactic or whatever you call yourself. Good day."
Before Oncrus could say anything, Oppenheimer dropped the call. The Chief General sat down, trying to figure out what to do next. One bomb a day, everyday. Until there is no more United Galactic.
"Wha...what now?" Someone asked.
Oncrus sat quietly, unsure of what to say.
Note: Sorry for any grammar mistake, I typed this a little too hastily I think.
|
At the Peace Talks between Humanity and the Galactic Government, the President of Humanity called their ridiculous lie by showing them irrefutable video evidence of the attack. Battleships with the galactic insignia demolished cityscapes, leaving a hellfire that made the US invasion of Vietnam look like a picnic. Humanity remained furious, throwing bottles and bombs at Alien government officials.
The galactic government asked what it could do to make amends. The President simply replied that nothing would do, except the heads of every war criminal who murdered 5 billion+ people. To no one’s surprise, the Galactic government scoffed, and abruptly left the meeting.
No one expected these talks to work, nor for the lies to be forgiven. The fact they were so brazen about them despite every bit of proof shows they care little for the truth. So long as they can dominate planets, they’ll tell whatever stories they want their victims to hear. In order for Humanity to continue the fight, they must remember who their true enemies are.
Negotiations are always open anytime the Galactic government gets serious about creating a just future, not a negative peace.
| 2022-12-17T21:49:39
| 2022-12-17T19:35:09
| 80
| 55
|
[WP] “Now be careful, that line of rock salt is the only thing keeping them out,” the man said, welcoming me into his refuge group. “Sea salt,” I clarified, “sea salt keeps us out.”
|
"... sea salt," I clarified, "sea salt keeps us out."
I watched for his widening eyes as I stepped over the line of salt... but his eyes didn't widen, and my foot slowed, then stalled. Too late, I tried to pull back, but the treacle-like thickness had firm hold, and I found myself toppling forward, emmeshed in the snare.
"You knew! This was a trick!" I glared, as I crumpled toward the ground, pulled by the inexorable draw of the salt. "How? There is no ocean within ten days march of here."
"No," the man said, "but you're not the first changeling to attempt this. This is rock salt, all right, but the rocks we mined... they come from the flats behind us. These flats were, untold eons ago, the floor of an ancient sea."
Agony shot into me, in waves, where my flesh touched the salt. Ancient salt. Salt of the sea. Salt that had learned, from pull to pull, to hate our mother, the Moon. I could see the silver creeping up my hand, my time drew short, and the others were too far behind me. I had already left the casually, carefully, subtly placed stone, the one assuring them it was safe, My kin would come, and they would step boldly, and they too would fall, and wither. The war would continue, and eventually my kind would win, but I knew now that I would not see our dominion over the humans.
The pain rang through my skull, and the world faded.
|
“Now be careful, that line of rock salt is the only thing keeping them out,” the man said, welcoming me into his refuge group.
“Sea salt,” I clarified, “sea salt keeps us out.” I said clambering down to my belly. For the boys I produced a most marvellous impression of a slug upon their floorboards.
“Weee, weee,” I said, “the salt is killing me,” I said, a best slug voice. I rolled to a ball, I died. “I am a dead slug,” I continued, and produced the greatest slug impression ever, I believe so, I don’t do the routine for very many people. I died actually comedically, because this here “Bulwark of Society” the words stamped over their doorway, was not the comedy crowd I anticipated. I stood up, shook down, shook the hands of the gentlemen arranged around the log cabin.
“The name’s Rupert,” I said. “F\*kkin slugs, eh, are such a menace.”
“Beef,” said Beef.
“Golly, what big guns!” I giggled. Chaps’ beards remained fixedly beardlike. “What do you boys like to eat around these parts?” I said.
“Parts,” said Rockson. “When we do find them, in country.” He sniffed. He shook my hand. “I am the armourer for the section. We defend humanity against the invasion of the slugs from outer space.”
“You idi…” I sputtered. “You identify the threat, and eliminate the dangers. Where do I sign for the big war?” I replied, destiny held in their big hands. Mmmm.
| 2021-03-02T09:07:17
| 2021-03-02T08:52:57
| 39
| 10
|
[WP] Our blood is naturally clear, it thickens and darkens with each impure act. You have always dedicate yourself to good and helping others but today while knitting beanies for the homeless you accidentally prick your finger. Your blood is jet black and so thick it doesn't even drip.
|
I stared at the blood dripping from my finger, shocked. I'd always tried to be good-- always volunteered, always helped people I saw that were in need. I around at the other patrons in the coffee shop I sat in, but nobody seemed to notice someone as old as I, hunched over in a back corner. I brought my withered finger to my lips. Even in the war, I had never been injured, and I cursed my clumsy hands for giving me such a terrible realization. Have I ever been truly good, or was I just always play-acting as my heart grew more bitter over the years?
I worked as a medic in the war, while my brother fought on the field. The day they brought him into my tent still haunts me, his tortured eyes pleading me for death. I managed to keep him alive long enough to send him home, where he died a few days later. They awarded him with the purple heart, which we chose to bury with him at Arlington National Cemetery.
"Sir?" I glanced up from my drink and looked into the eyes of a young man; a businessman, judging by the look of his attire. He towered over me, staring at me with his blue eyes. They pierced through me. I took my finger from my mouth and brought it shakily to my lap. He smiled knowingly. There was something... Strange about this man, something terrifying in his smile.
He sat across from me, leaning over the small table. He smelled like death and there was a strange flatness to his eyes, like gemstones glimmering in the light. "I know what you've done," he whispered to me, tapping the old ring on my finger. I withdrew, clenching my fists together. The pain from the arthritis brought tears to my eyes and the action seemed to bring him pleasure. I didn't speak.
"You can't forget forever, old man," he said. I shook my head slowly.
"You know nothing," I whispered hoarsely. I was fearful of this man, but I was not enough of a coward to hide such fear.
"Your memory is not what it used to be, but there are some things you cannot truly forget."
My hands were burning from the pain. I unclenched them, slowly, and watched them quiver in my lap. The small cut seemed to have grown larger, black ooze crusted over it like small rocks blocking a flood. "Who... Who are you?"
His smile grew larger. "I am the dog that followed your brother into war, the vulture that circled over your little tent as you tried to save his life. I was the bloodthirst in his eyes, and yours when you tried to avenge his death. I am Ares, the god of war. You humans have fought meaningless wars across time, both against others and against yourselves. I see the war you've waged for years in your heart."
"You-You're crazy!" I spluttered. "I don't know what you're talking about. I never fought in the war!"
The man--Ares-- winked at me. "I never said you fought in the war. You never stopped trying to avenge your brother, did you? Your rage consumed you, and no matter how many people you killed, it could never fill the hole in your heart, or quench your thirst for blood."
*No... He's wrong. I've always been good. I've alwaysbeengoodI'vealwaysbeen-*
I clutched my head. "No..." I whispered.
"Aaah, I see you remember now. Such a terrible thing for you to do. All those men that looked like your brother, their bodies scattered throughout the countries you forged a path of fire in. You never saved a soul again after his death. All these years spent in your delusions."
The cut on my finger had reopened, dripping blackened blood over my eye. It burned, but I could not move.
Ares focused on the blood. "Ah, the curse of Erinyes," he murmured. "It has changed over the years, but still brings misfortune to people like you. Your physical ailments, your unexplained illnesses..."
He touched my forehead, wiping away some of the blood. I flinched. Ares examined it, then wiped it on my shirt.
"You are dying," he told me. "The Fates will it-- but it will be a slow and painful death, a descent into madness further than you have ever gone. You will age until your skin turns to paper and your bones to dust."
*No... I will end my own life before that happens.*
He smirked again. "I can see in your eyes what you are thinking, but you will not be able to. The Maniae will see to that."
*Nononononononono-*
"Goodbye, Jonathan Stone. Your final punishment is upon you."
He disappeared in a flash of fire and ash, leaving me frozen at the table. It seemed that nobody had witnessed what had transpired. The sun still shined through the window and others still milled around the shop; but suddenly, they all had their eyes on me.
*Disgusting old man... look at the color of his blood.*
*How is he still alive? He is so old and feeble.*
*He needs to be punished for his crimes.*
*Evilmanevilmanevilman-*
I screamed. The hat I had been knitting turned to a skull in my hands, grinning at at me grotesquely, and blackened blood oozed down the walls, choking me with the stench of death.
I was back at the battlefield, staring into my brother's eyes, but this time his eyes radiated hatred instead of pain.
"Monster," he gurgled. *"MONSTER."*
I stabbed him, over and over, shrieking and crying. I couldn't stop, and he wouldn't die-- his cries only grew stronger and louder with each blow.
This is hell.
\*\*\*\*
*"Breaking news: Jonathan Stone, aged 88, has been charged with 26 counts of murder when he attacked the patrons of Cathedral Coffee and the surrounding area. There were no survivors. Police were dumbfounded when they arrived at the scene, and shot Stone multiple times in the chest when he attempted to attack them. This is the largest killing spree Oregon has ever seen. Stone survived the onslaught and is currently at Oregon State Hospital in critical condition. He is said to have been semi-conscious the entire time, but that information has not been confirmed."*
|
Turns out following the rules of god was the wrong way..
Turns out following the Bible to a t, never wearing cotton, the whole fish thing was wrong..
That woman who was dying I couldn’t touch her,
Turns out slaves where bad...
Turns out cutting my wife’s hands off was evil..
I needed a moment
| 2018-08-04T10:51:37
| 2018-08-04T09:44:59
| 28
| 10
|
[WP] Our universe is in fact a simulation - it was a school project in God School. However, it was the one the got an A+ (top notch). Now tell me a story about living in a universe that got graded D- (barely above fail)
|
"Mr. Smith! Please sit down. How are you doing this eternity?" Teacher said, motioning to a single chair in front of his own.
"Fine, I guess. A little nervous about why you asked to talk privately." Smith sat down and looked around at the classroom with anxiety. Did Teacher know about how he bent natural laws in the last assignment? Is this about his outburst at Mason?
"I wanted to talk to you about your capstone project. I am going to have to terminate the universe early. There are some... concerns that I and other faculty have."
"I thought my interpretation was approved. All of the preliminary work showed the universe would fall into normal acceptable levels of development while minimizing entropy." Smith pulled out his notes and papers on the project, paging through them to look for any mistake he had missed.
"It isn't that."
"Did I not put enough matter? Was there too much matter? Oh no... Was it anti mater? Did my interpretation result in too much anti-matter?"
Teacher just shook his head and frowned a little."Not at all. I have to terminate it because everyone is dead."
"Dead?"
"Well, mostly dead."
"I don't understand. That universe had trillions upon trillions of planets, with roughly a tenth of those inhabitable. How could they be mostly dead? I checked on it before our last class it looked healthy."
"Well, to start, it wasn't necessarily your fault. Even if you had personally managed and watched over it every moment you will still see random variances that could create larger issues. Your own interpretation of natural laws for your universe ended up allowing more variances to occur, and while initially it looked as if they would beneficial in the end they proved to be a destructive force. I also believe your own direct interference may have created series of events that triggered our initial concern."
Smith pulled out a glass slate and tapped a few points on it. After some waiting the universe status application was up and he was able to see what Teacher was talking about.
"The genetic drift..." Smith said with a hint of confusion. He was pretty sure he should only be seeing one fully sentient and complex lifeform on each inhabited planet, but each planet developed multiple, sometimes even dozens.
"And the loosening on the various restraints we often put in place to prevent mortals from accessing greater power too quickly."
"Wait... This looks like the universe committed suicide. Or tried to at least." Entropy had set in. Stars were purposefully extinguished. Whole systems were destroyed.
"Yes. That brings us to how self-aware it became." Teacher carefully reached over to the tablet and tapped a couple places on it.
"They knew?"
"Yes."
"How?"
"You told them. Which brings me to why I will be giving you a D- on this assignment." Teach said with a long pause afterwards. Smith was speechless and looked around the classroom in an attempt to understand what had happened. He thought through the project, the calculations, the start up, the guidance he gave it. He couldn't think of how he could have told the universe it was just a simulation and not an actual fully realized creation.
"If I understand correctly, you have a hobby of fantasy role playing game?" Teacher slowly asked, wanting Smith to connect the dots.
"Well, I understand fully realized simulations based on speculative fiction with magic that break the laws of nature are banned. Only partial... Oh no..."
"Yes."
"I must have...."
"You did."
"The group I have been playing with, I was the only one with knowledge of how to create custom simulations to play in. There were a few worlds in my universe that I thought would be great to play in and explore so I create a copy and made adjustments. I put in all the restraints and settings meant for a speculative universe. It was only supposed to be just that one world."
"And yet?" Teacher said motioning for Smith to keep figuring it all out. Smith taped a few points on the tablet and groaned when he saw it.
"I never made a copy. I made changes to the base universe, and played in it directly with my friends thinking it was a limited simulation when it was actually a fully functioning one."
"Looking at the logs it appears you and your friends went into the simulation to play, got severely inebriated, and believing the residents wouldn't be able to understand, told them all about this project. The knowledge was quickly spread because your introduction of ridiculous types of magic allowed a free travel and communication throughout the universe. It also allowed them to test and prove that it was a simulation. They tried to contact you before the suicide, but they missed the time difference and didn't realize they would need thousands of years to gain a proper response. They threatened to kill themselves unless they were handed full control of the simulation, and believing a non response was a denial of their terms they used the magic to horrific effect. To be fair, this is actually one of the better results. I have rejected countless proposals to allow simulations like this because often, when they are allowed, we have other universes infected or worse. I would have hated to see your simulation be the end of the enter classes, fortunately they never figured out how to hop around. And I know you would have hated to see them leap into an actual creation."
"Wait... this would normally fail me."
"Yes. We felt, however, that this was a simple mistake. We realized what you meant to do and didn't want to punish you for forgetting a step or two in what is, honestly, a complicated process. We also saw that while you accidentally changed the fundamental laws of your universe, you also accidentally isolated it from causing harm outside of its bounds."
"Thank you sir." Smith sighed and looked at his notes. All the work for little reward. He would still be graduating but the GPA would hurt enough that he might not be able to gain access to full creation.
"I know you are the end of your education, but you really should take a class in speculative fantasy. The orcs were really the more aggressive ones in the suicide plan."
Smith nodded and sighed. He was pretty disappointed in himself. It shouldn't have ended like that.
"Don't worry. I'm sure you won't do it again. In the meantime," Teacher passed over a small disk, "I am sure you could enjoy my old RPG world. I'll admit it isn't nearly as free as your own but you should be able to still enjoy it with out risking the other student projects."
*Edit: Names*
|
A good world requires balance. This our God failed to realize. And for that we paid a hefty price.
We awoke in fields of sprawling acres and towering pillars. Mansions stuffed with luxurious furniture and decadent food sprang up in rows around us. "My gift to you," He had said, in his glorious voice. It rumbled like thunder and touched our hearts. And He lived with us, in the greatest house of all, at the top of a mountain framed in cherry blossoms. His house was a constant party open to all, and even the trees would uproot themselves to shuffle across the land and mingle in the atmosphere.
But as time grew on, we grew tired, and we found problems in this perfect world. Problems in that there were no problems. No challenges for us to overcome. If we were hungry, food would appear on our table. We could never be injured, and the concept of death was foreign to us- if you wanted to save time, you'd leap from the third floor balcony. Much faster than stairs. Gradually, the party-goers dwindled, and society moved away from our God to settle the untamed lands before us. We built villages from earth and stone and subsided on nuts, fruits, and vegetables, which the plants happily shared.
The concept of death was so foreign to us that when Paul failed to get up from his bed that day, we believed him to be sleeping. But something was not quite right. He was so cold, and lacked the gentle rise and fall of our chests we all share. When we took an ear to his heart, we heard silence, not the rhythmic thumping of our own. Paul was the first human to die. But he would not be the last.
It was chaos that week when I left my stone abode. Many felt too weak to leave their homes and died later in a phenomenon we'd label "disease". The dark berries our town had been known for were no longer fit to eat. Though they still carried their strong, bittersweet taste, all who partook in it would convulse and lay still not long after. The plants turned a blind eye to our requests for food, so we heaved rocks until they complied. Something had changed, and we needed to find out what. So four others and I set out on the long trek, back to the land of God, in search of those sprawling acres and towering pillars of marble. In a land so far away, where nothing went wrong, a land so different from now that it may as well have been imaginary.
We trekked through the forest by our town. Once a welcome, gentle place, it had turned dark and dangerous. Plants displayed thorns and powder that would itch like mad if it got on you. We encountered a pack of wolves and squared off, them circling for an opening and us throwing stones until they decided we were more trouble than we were worth. The world had not become hostile to us alone- we found the strange vines of another plant that had wrapped around an old oak, draining it of its life. We found the corpse of an elephant, once proud and majestic, now still and reeking, with a host of maggots feasting upon its flesh.
The desert was hot and dry and we lost Amelia to the thirst. She'd run off, screaming about a pool of water, when we could see no such place in the dry lands. We set up tarps made from our clothes and waited out the sun, traveling only by night, where those same tarps shielded us from the biting cold. It was not all bad. In the desert, the nights would be so clear, you could see thousands of stars. The moon looked much bigger then, like when we lived in Paradise, a glowing ball of silver that chased away the terrors of the night.
We lost John to the alligators in the swamps. He was standing with us as we plotted a course. And then he was in the water, thrashing and flipping, splashing up mud and blood as he wrestled with the jaws of a gator. It was enormous, much larger than any of us could fathom. We ran when his screaming attracted more and left him to his fate.
At last, we'd reached the land of God, but it was darker than we remembered. The shadows seemed much longer and the same mansions that had once looked so roomy now felt cold and empty. We took refuge in my old home, next to tables of rotting food and slept in a bed of dust and chipped paint. Spiders had moved in. I guess we were fortunate they weren't venomous.
"I'm staying here," Abe said. "I can't go any farther. I'll clean up this home. I'll live here. I can't go any farther." He kept repeating this, and I didn't blame him. He was afraid of death. Of what might come after. He was afraid of what we'd find atop His mountain, where we once laughed and feasted. He was afraid of corrupting those memories. We all were.
We trekked on, with just the two of us left. Arkesh made good company. He made me smile with stories of better times when we stopped to rest on the mountain path. He kept his chin up, always hopeful that we could take things back, apologize to Him. He was adamant there'd been a mistake. That when we saw Him again, he'd welcome us with open arms. That He was just lonely, cooped up in a mansion way up here with no one to keep him company.
The topiary was cheery as ever. They waved their greetings as the gates swung open without so much as a squeak. The place had changed very little, but felt so alien now with what we'd seen. Arkesh lifted the brass knocker and tapped it against the door. It swung open, as it always did.
The house was empty. Gone were the tables of food and wine. Gone were the guests of all shapes, sizes, and species. It felt eerily quiet, in a place that had never been. Our footsteps echoed.
We searched each room on the ground floor, and ascended the marble staircase when we found no trace of Him. The upstairs was equally clean, with golden statues of beautiful men and women bowing upon our entry. "My gift to you" was emblazoned on the wall in gold lettering, as bright as the day it was made. And beneath the letters, lay our God. His body was cold and lacked the gentle rise and fall that our chests shared. When we took an ear to his heart, we heard silence, not the rhythmic beating of our own. I looked at Arkesh and he looked at me. And we stood together in His empty house, with the body of our fallen god, unsure of what to do.
_________________________________________________________
[more](https://www.reddit.com/r/Tensingstories/)
| 2017-08-18T12:13:46
| 2017-08-18T11:52:07
| 399
| 195
|
[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?"
|
It was a freezing morning in New York.
I slipped into the local Starbucks for some coffee.
There was a new cashier today.
"Welcome to Starbucks. Can I take your order?", She asked, exasperated.
"Soy un federale, tengo un gato en mis pantalones," I replied.
The disinterested look on her face vanished instantly.
"You...", she said, "What the fuck is wrong with you?"
For a second my heart skipped a beat.
"Do you know how many years I've spent working in Mexico because of your bullshit!?" She yelled, smashing her fists on the Register.
It was her.
She was the one.
Edit: Damn, first gold. Didn't expect this. Thanks guys!
|
"It raises questions, you know. Like if I avoid Starbucks throughout my entire life, never go into one ever, does that mean that I never meet my soulmate? And if I never meet my soulmate, then are they really my soulmate, I mean, how can someone be my soulmate if we never end up being together?", Julia smiled wryly and looked on as Ryan prattled on about his life.
"Still, better than the fuckers that get nothing. I mean, could you imagine that? Tell the truth I will, I was scared to hell I was going to end up like one of those guys. I mean.", Ryan paused for a moment as his brain finally caught up with where his mind was going, "what have I got to offer, just a stupid kid from the wrong side of the tracks." Ryan was silent for another few moments before re-engaging in his rant.
"And even those that do get something, they're stuck wondering about one stupid god damned phrase for half their life. All it does is make people listen to each other as if they were preachers on Sunday. Couldn't they just give me a name so that I can look someone up in the phone book and get this shit over with."
Ryan looked down at his drink, a rum and coke. This was three, right, no four, yes definitely four.
"Sorry, I know that you don't need to listen to some drunk guy raising hell about something I'm sure you and everyone else has given plenty of thought to already. Just, messes with the head, like some Twilight Zone episode." Ryan lifted the glass to his mouth, felt the cool tingle of ice against his lips and took another draw from the drink. "What's yours?" Julia opened her mouth and was immediately interrupted by Jerry, the bartender, who had, of course, been listening in to the conversation somewhat. Not eavesdropping really, just part of the job, had to be able to gauge the customer's moods, "A proper lady doesn't tell Ryan. Neither does a proper gentleman for that matter."
Julia smiled at the barkeep and Ryan kicked his head back for a while, laughing bemusedly, "If you're looking for a proper gentleman, then you're in the wrong place here Jerry." The barkeep sauntered off, "Maybe I'm just trying to bring a little class to this part of the country Ryan." Ryan snorted and looked back at Julia, "Always an optimist that one, God love him, he helps keep me pretty straight, always cuts me off at four, been drinking here long enough that I suppose he knows me better than I know myself. See, now him, he deserves a proper soulmate. Are you going to tell me what your soulmate is supposed to say Jerry?" Ryan jokingly shouted down the bar at Jerry.
He shouted back, "Never." and kept smiling. After all, it was part of the job to keep smiling, even when you had to smile past the hurt.
Ryan turned back to Julia, "Anyways, sorry for getting long on the diction I just meant to say, it messes with your head these things. Ah hell, I've done an awful lot of talking, and I'm sure that you have a voice that is as pretty as the look of you is, so what's on the top of your mind and the tip of your tongue?"
Julia smiled, "Welcome to Starbucks. Can I take your order."
Ryan blinked. That didn't help, so he blinked again. Still nothing. Something had just happened, he knew it, and he knew it was important, but it was so damned unexpected, like going fishing and having one jump into your lap. It just gave itself to you, but you're too shocked and stupid to know what to do with it that you try and get it off you even when the whole point of being there was to snatch one of em. He felt like he had to do something, so he let his jaw down a bit and tried blinking again. Still nothing.
Then his head lurched forward and he felt a sting of pain, "Nothing but a god damned idiot, fine pick of the litter you ended up with." as Jerry smacked the back of Ryan's head, all the while looking at Julia.
Julia laughed before mustering up, "Oh, I'm sure that he's not so bad once you get to know him."
Jerry gave a knowing smile, "He does tend to grow on you, that he does. Though I have the helpful hand of alcohol on my side."
Julia, "True, true, I'll just have to use my womanly guile to bring him round."
Ryan held a hand to the back of his head and then lifted his head to meet her gaze, "But..."
Julia smiled and reached out, folding his hand into hers, "To be fair, mine was a bit easier. Hi I'm Ryan Tannerhill, here to welcome you to the finest establishment east of the Mississippi, the Owl's Rest tavern."
Ryan stood very still for a moment and then laughed uncontrollably. After finally regaining some level of composure he finally espoused, "Well shit, I didn't even give you a good chase."
Then after another moment, "Although, you have to be, what, twenty-six, twenty-eight? If you knew, why'd you wait?"
"Twenty-nine actually, but thank you. There's just something dreadfully certain about knowing. All of my other girlfriends had strange sentences, unique phrases, hell, one was even in French and she had no idea what it meant. Then there was me, with certitude. Ryan Tannerhill, Owl's Rest, east of the Mississippi. I guess, I guess I was scared."
"Well there aint no problem with that. It's a strange world out there Julia, but it's nice to not have to face it alone."
"Agreed."
Ryan tilted his head back, "Though it raises questions, you know. Like if they don't tell me, and then I don't tell you, you don't know what to say to me, but that phrase only means something to me because they told me."
She rested her head against her hand and smiled and thought to herself, "There is actually something pretty charming about him."
| 2014-12-17T23:12:07
| 2014-12-17T20:57:41
| 2,270
| 551
|
[WP] You're known as "The King of Games" for never having lost a game in your life. However little does anyone know you're actually cursed so that everytime you lose a game you get sent back in time and be forced in a time loop until you win
|
Robert knew it was time to win. His blessing of never being able to lose had them playing for what would have been weeks in real time. Instead they sat across from each other locked in this embrace of competition, playing the same game over and over. He knew every move she would make in response to his and it was impossible to lose again. The chess board sat between them ready to begin.
“I guess I’ll go first.” she said.
“Of course.”
She made the same first move every game, and Robert could see the next twenty moves ahead. The path to victory was clear as day, it was only a matter of time.
He made his first move and asked, “What made you start dancing?”
Her eyes lit up as she thought back to her childhood. “The first time I saw The Broadway Melody of 1940 on television. Eleanor Powell performed Begin the Beguine with Fred Astaire, and that was when I fell in love. She was dazzling. I knew right then I wanted to be like her.”
Robert had heard this story many times now, but he knew the distraction that remembering her childhood would bring. She continued recalling her journey through dance school that led to her career dancing in theaters, on cruise ships, and even in movies. Joy shined out of her as she spoke, and she didn't focus on the moves she was making.
He moved his piece to claim one of hers and she barely registered the loss. Victory was only four moves away. Robert waited for her to notice.
“Oh look at that. I’ve played myself into a corner while I was caught up telling you stories.” she said.
“Maybe that was my plan all along?”
“You devil. You always did know how to get me talking, but I’m not out of this yet.”
She made the only move left to her in order to have any hope of winning. Robert went to move his piece into checkmate, but pain gripped his heart. He couldn’t do it. Instead he made a show of making the wrong move, and within four moves he was checkmated.
“You know better than that Robert. I can’t believe you let me win.”
The world faded to black around him, then color swam back into existence. He found himself sitting across from her once again with a chess board ready to play between them. Sounds from the equipment monitoring her vitals were cruelly beeping away. Her frail form looked so weak in that gown.
“I guess I’ll go first.” His mother said.
“Of course.”
|
It all started with a game of hopscotch.
A childish game, a gaggle of competitive brats and my own will to win and show off meant that when I lost, i didn't exactly take it well.
A badly worded wish muttered through tears later, i found myself standing back at the starting square, with no idea of what just happened.
When the children screamed at me to take my turn, i quickly realised what happened.
That started a lifetime of good luck and fame. I was unbeatable, no matter the competition.
Be it physical or mental, serious or casual, individual or team, my presence meant that the victory? Was a garuntee.
I coasted all the way to high school like this, only to be challenged in a way i had never thought possible during my first PE class.
I had shifted to a new school for higher education. People here did not know my reputation, and when time came for an athletic trials, they were ready to give there all.
Especially in the 100 yard dash.
Billy was his name, and Billy was blessed with long legs, a hard working lung, and a will to win.
I lost count how many times I ran the race against Billy. It wasn't then that i realised that my blessing was actually a curse.
Billy never gave up, not even the time i won. What happened was that Billy tripped. Billy was shocked, but i wasn't. I mean, given we had run the race over a 100 times, this was bound to happen, right?
I was more careful then. I never picked a game i wasn't already good at. I still had nightmares of trailing Billy down an endless strech, sweat bouncing of my body and my lungs craving for air.
Unfortunately, i had to go to college.
Unfortunately i got drunk at a party in a room full of smart people looking to do something stupid.
Unfortunately now I'm stuck in a game of chess with a genuine genius who is going to be forced to strip if he loses.
And he's not planning to lose.
And unfortunately, i don't know chess.
I'm learning though. It's been a year, I've counted, but i learn a little more every time we play.
I know it's been a year due to math. Turns out, all chess is geometry and math.
Our game is for 10 minutes. It's a rapid game.
Now a day has 24 hours. Each hour has 60 minutes, equalling a total of 1440 minutes. Divided by ten means that 144 games equals to a day.
A year means 52560 games!
We've played 52565 yet.
A lot right?
Well... A grandmaster in chess is one of the highest positions available. A grandmaster usually plays upto a million or so games to reach that level.
I didn't know that the person i was competing with was a super grandmaster.
Now, I'm stuck, in this game, watching the same result time and time again. Since my opponent doesn't know time reverses he keeps playing to win, and no matter how hard I try convincing a drunk guy to lose before a party's worth of attractive women is impossible!
So I've been learning. One game at a time. It's hard yes, to become good enough to beat a super grandmaster, that too when learning in an unorthodox fashion ten minutes at a time...
But what choice do i have?
I keep playing, mentally growing older as nothing changes, my mind just a jumble of regret, forgotten memories and chess theorems and patterns.
It's only for the last 10000 games do i realize I can hear a strange laughter as i keep playing.
It's only now that i realise that the laughter has been there since my first and final loss,
In a game of hopscotch,
To a foreign and strange kid i had bullied before,
Who turned out to have an even stranger smile when he saw me cry in anger as I lost.
Who probably heard my wish and decided to let it come true,
Knowing fully well that the child in front of him had no idea of the consequences of his wish.
Oh. Check mate. I lost again.
Here we go.
| 2022-03-26T13:57:15
| 2022-03-26T10:47:35
| 3,587
| 626
|
[WP] You are the God of small things and you were quite content with your lot-until the purge.Your temples lay burnt, your priests bathed in their own blood your priestesses shared the same fate yet only after being violated.They will pay for you are the god of small things- small not insignificant
|
They destroyed me. My people. The innocents I protected. They burned and pillaged and ravaged and...
So be it. I will hear their blood-wreathed prayers. Accept their perverse offerings of sacrifice. They cry out to the void to be rid of me- and thus, they shall have their wish fulfilled. The others amongst the divine held their tongues. My would-be murderers, in their cleverness, had left only the smallest of holes in their machinations to have me undone. Only the smallest. My new "followers" would get their due.
It began with the dust and dirt in their homes. Spotless and clean, they saw themselves reflected purely in their reflection, and for a moment I allowed them a small sense of satisfaction that they had triumphed. Then, I took the little things they noticed about their loved ones. The way the light catches her eyes, the way he touches her shoulder to say 'I love you'. Next were the little lies they told others. I did not pause to take joy in watching the fabric of their lives fray and unravel for lack of a little tact.
I withheld from them the little joys- no birdsong to soften the morning, no gentle breeze to caress their cheek. Not knowing they had placed themselves under my dominion, they spoke little prayers, seeking small comforts in their renewed faith. Small acts of worship that would reach noone, small comforts they would never find.
Within a week, their relationships had soured. A month, and their lives were in shambles. They would have been spared so much hardship, had they been shown some small measure of forgiveness, some momentary kindness. Such a shame they had wished those small things gone from their lives.
I waited, patiently, until I could remove from my unwitting devotees the last thing I could take from them- until their hope dwindled enough to become mine.
|
[Poem]
Desecrated altars every way
Thy own scholars lay limp,
Cut down by those who could not say
Taunted and teased by imps
And though they may feel righteous
Murder without consequence
I am the God of the Miniscule,
Threads of guilt blossom in sequence
A chain of motion set abound
Darkness eats at thy heart
Lives begin to crumble down
This delicious work of art
Men driven mad lose their heads,
From nigh but a spark.
As they descend wailing remorse,
I chuckle in the Dark.
Edit: It's 4 stanzas of 4 lines I haven't posted on here before so not sure why the formatting came out like this
| 2021-12-03T13:52:35
| 2021-12-03T09:06:29
| 23
| 10
|
[WP] In order to maximize effect (and profits), death row inmates are now handed over to the producers of horror movies where deaths are no longer faked.
|
“So what movie is this?”
The girl in the headset flips through a couple of pages. “Who are you, again?”
“Jeff Saunders.”
“No, your number.”
“11-25-3162.” Not that it was a secret. It was tattooed on me and I was wearing a shirt with the same number.
“Yeah, you are in… **Hey! You three! Get to Shadow Vixens 16 or I swear to god I will put you in a Saw movie!**...you are in some zombie flick. Stage 3, here’s your pass.”
When I get there, I am immediately sent to wardrobe. Or makeup. Both, I guess. It’s just one overworked lady smoking out of a run-down trailer.
“So am I the ruggedly handsome lead?” I ask her, smiling my famous smile. The smile that seduced all those women to their deaths.
“No. You’re a zombie.”
“Oh. Well then, do I get makeup?”
“Something like that.” She puts the cigarette out on her forearm and points her thumb into the trailer.
When I get in there, it’s lit and covered with cameras. It looks exactly like the Hollywood sets I had always heard about. Blood and guts everywhere. Looks like something out of a nightmare. I’m so excited.
“Do I start acting in here?”
“No, those cameras are just for the ‘behind the scenes’ extras on the Blu-ray version. Get up on the table.”
I get up on the table and lay down. I can feel multiple layers of plastic and tarp shift underneath me.
“Okie-doke, here we go.”
I can feel numbness spreading from the base of my spine down through my whole legs. I can’t feel them at all. I go to ask the makeup lady if this is normal, but she puts a mask over my face and I’m breathing in Nitrous. Hey look, a chainsaw. Wow, they cut through flesh quick. So that’s what it smells like when someone gets burned closed. How interesting.
Next thing they do is wheel me inside, where I get into this cave of a room covered in green fabric.
“What do I do?” I ask them. They tell me to try my best not to bleed out before the main actor gets here. I shuffle around with my hands dragging my torso across the floor. Little bits of entrail drag behind me like ribbons, leaving red streaks. The actor shows up and a man dressed like a doctor puts a needle into my jaw and another into my shoulder.
ACTION
Everything gets scary. Where am I? Why am I cut in half? What am I doing here? I try to drag myself to the main actor. I try to scream out to him all these questions but it comes out a pained moan. He lifts a gun, pulls the trigger. I fall. The world gets dark. The last thing I hear is the director saying they need one more, for coverage. Get another one. Get this one gone.
|
When I was a kid, I used to think that the actors who died on screen were really dying in real life. Not that they weren't aware of the cameras, or that the movie was really happening, but that they were sacrificing their lives for the movie. At some point I realized how silly that was.
Decades of budget cuts and efficiencies have brought my childish misapprehension closer to reality than anyone would have imagined. The sick thing is that support for capital punishment is at an all time high. Modern day bread and carnivals have brought the comfortable masses into a state of self-satisfied indifference to the barbarism that fuels their mesmerizing neon entertainment.
Even decades ago, prison conditions in the land of the free were medieval. Modern day slaves punching plates and digging trenches rather than picking cotton. The denim clad underclass forcibly enriching the corporate elite for dollars a day. For most industries, it was just convenient, cheap labour. They were just amorally reaping the profits of a fearful and heartless society. Hollywood though...
When the entertainment industry saw their opportunity they embraced it. It was a clumsy attempt at first, modern day bloodsport and only the most notorious villains were fit for the airwaves. Clumsy as it was, it was wildly popular. Heroes rose and fell amongst the ranks of societies most despised. The shock value put asses on couches, but the carefully edited narrative kept them their. I watched the first few seasons myself, I cheered on a murderer as he won his freedom by perfecting his craft in 9 stages of grotesque human cockfighting.
There were hundreds sitting on death row, and for a while, the next stage of reality TV seemed like it would be an unending staple of primetime entertainment. It's surprising how fast tournaments with only one survivor will churn through eligible entrants.
Money talks. In spite of UN sanctions and protests from the bleeding hearts, lesser crimes became grounds for entrance into the lists. Conviction rates skyrocketed and sentencing became much more harsh. I didn't care though, the scum of the earth was getting what they deserved and I was loving ever minute of it in technicolour, surround sound.
In season three, I watched a Hell's Angel cave in the skull of mother who left her son in their car on a hot day. The spatters of blood shone through purple against the iridescent blue stripes of his armoured uniform. The crowd noise was deafening. He won the tournament and returned the next year to provide colour commentary for Joe Buck in season 4. I wish being the world's most boring sport's caster was a capital offence.
Things have changed a lot in the last fifteen years. Prisons are a lot more comfortable than they used to be, but the inmates aren't any happier. Looking at the stack of letters in my cell, I can't remember how many times I've read "We regret to inform you." Amnesty, Innocence Project, sympathetic lawyers, they all want to help me, but they're stretched too thin. It's better PR to stand up for the third strikers than for a mass murderer of children anyway. I don't know what happened to the formula, I wasn't even on the floor that day, but it doesn't matter at this point. Tomorrow, I'll be ending my days as victim #4 in a shitty Romero knockoff. I don't even have a line, just gurgles.
| 2015-01-14T09:17:18
| 2015-01-14T09:08:48
| 28
| 11
|
[WP] You shoo your kitten away from a battered mouse she's playing with. As you bend over with a towel to scoop up the mouse to carry it outside, you see it's wearing leather armor, a cat claw necklace, and that clutched tightly in a trembling paw is the handle of a broken yellow plastic sword pick.
|
"Smudge! What are you doing?" Still bottle-fed, the little stray was already a hunter.
*Meow*
"Smudge." The little rascal scrambled over, expecting praise. "What do you have?" Still alive. "Drop it!"
He obeyed, but continued to paw at the tiny mouse, almost concerned. Alice pushed the black kitten away, taking the injured creature to her bedroom.
She swept the books off her desk with one arm and laid the mouse on a fresh handkerchief. "Oh you poor dear. I'll get you fixed up, don't worry -- wait, what are you wearing?" It was that moment that Alice noticed the leather jerkin and tin armor. In it's hand, a wooden sword, snapped and splintered.
"Curiouser and curiouser..."
Alice rushed to her sewing kit and removed a seam ripper. The jerkin's ties severed and the armor laid aside, Alice cleaned the warrior's wounds with iodine and bandaged them, carefully stitching a deep gash across it's back before covering it in soft cotton. The mouse stirred and winced, but maybe Alice imagined that.
The little warrior carefully tucked in a bed with a thimble of water and a bit of cheese nearby, Alice returned to Smudge, who had been pawing at the door and yowling.
"You have been very bad Smudge, hurting the sweet mouse like that."
Smudge lifted his paw to reveal a splinter and Alice carefully pulled it out. She planted a kiss upon his head and turned to inspect the scene.
After tea, Alice returned to the mouse. She hovered over it for many minutes, until, at last the mouse opened it's eyes.
"Where be I, lassie?" The mouse seemed to be and older gentleman with a deep Scottish brogue. He looked around. "And who be yo"
You would, of course, find a talking mouse quite absurd, but Alice had seen many strange things and took it in stride.
"You're on my desk. My name is Alice."
"Percival." He extended a hand and Alice shook it daintily with her finger. "What happened?" Percival asked as he gathered his armor up.
"Smudge got you, sir."
"Smudge?"
"My kitten."
"Ah! The tiny black fellow?" Percival sat up, smiling? Do mice smile?
"Yes." She nodded gravely.
"Ah, that might don't know his own strength, lass. Sweet little lad, he is."
"But he hurt you very badly. You're not angry?"
"No, tis my own fault. I been sparring with kittens many a year, but today I got careless."
"You've done this before?"
"Aye, lassie. You see, sparring kittens is great training -- I have all me boys do it once they can hold their own against each other. And, most tines, it don't hurt neither the kitten nor the mouse. Ah, I see yer a might confused, lass. We mouse soldiers have trained for generations, ever since the first Great Rat War."
"Rats?"
The master-at-arms looked down, somber. "I was but a lad myself when the rats struck last time. They decimated our numbers, slaying soldier and citizen alike. They carried off many a mouse into slavery, I only escaped by hiding in the smallest hole. They took my family."
"It's alright, Percival. You don't have to go on."
He holds up a tiny pink paw. Inhales. "Rumor was... Rumor was that they ate the wee mouse children, those too young and small to be of any use... I saw -- I saw first hand that this was true. They took my brother, a wee babe in arms. Ate him. And we all watched."
"Here, it's a bit big, but it will do." Alice held out a doll's handkerchief. The mouse knight blew his nose on the blanket-sized clothe and dried his eyes.
"I must be off now. Give my regards to Smudge."
Percival hopped off Alice's desk and scurried into a hole between the floor boards. Sometimes Alice saw him in corners. And sometimes she heard the mice drilling with their swords. She left her old seam ripper and some needles by the mouse hole that night -- in the morning they were gone, her gift accepted. She didn't meet Percival again, but, if candle light is to be believed, Alice witnessed a mock battle between a grown up Smudge and several young mouse soldiers, with a grizzled master shouting at them "Quicker laddies, quicker! The rats won't be so forgiving as our friend here!"
|
"No Bathbomb! Not in the house!" I cry out, scrambling towards the newest addition to the family, the lithe grey cat was currently hunched over a tiny black wriggling lump that I could only assume was a mouse. Still squeaking, rather pitifully but still alive. I gently lift the small mewling murder machine with one hand and use the other to awkwardly grab a tea towel hanging over the nearest cupboard handle.
Once the poor little mouse was safely tucked into the towel I deposit Bathbomb back onto the ground and stand up straight, the feline wails a little at the loss of his plaything. But he quickly loses interest and heads back to the living room.
I turn my attention back to the mouse, what do I even do? Let it back outside? Yeah, that's what I normally did. It was still wriggling and squeaking so maybe it wasn't as banged up as I thought and had a chance back in the wild, but then again. I once saw Bathbomb take down a magpie the same size as him so I'm rather amazed the mouse was still even breathing, carefully pulling the towel back. I decide to asses the damage, maybe I could find a wildlife center for the little guy...
Is that a hat? I frown as I peer at the creature, not quite sure what it was I was seeing. I thought the mouse was black, but what I had thought was fur was looking more like a tiny breastplate of sorts. On further inspection, I make out what appears to be a brown belt, small black wrap-like things around it's back legs and a fine silver chain hanging around it's neck with a thin, sharp, curved item on it, a cat claw maybe?
My mind grinds to a halt, am I having a stroke? Do I have a brain tumor? I continue to stare at the mouse in my hands, the armored mouse to be specific.
"Wha..." I whisper, continued to stare. The creature blinks it's beady eyes at me. I could vaguely feel it's body trembling, my eye is drawn to it's paw. Where, of course. A tiny broken sword is clutched in a tiny trembling paw, bright yellow in contrast to the rest of it's outfit.
"What are you?" I ask, before I can stop myself. But I didn't, I am actually talking to a mouse. A mouse wearing full Lord of the Rings-esque armor that I had just rescued from my sadistic pet cat. In retrospect, maybe talking to the mouse wasn't the most ridiculous part of the situation. Naturally, being a mouse. It didn't reply, well. It did, it squeaked almost insistently but I couldn't understand a word it was saying.
Maybe it's someone's pet? I had a pet mouse when I was little, but if it is how on earth did it end up in my house? It was raining quite heavily earlier so Bathbomb has been inside all day, it must have crawled in through the cat flap. It has to be someones pet, why else would it be wearing armor?
"Right" I said, to no one in particular "On the off-chance that this ISN'T the manifestation of a brain tumor and you are someone's pet I'm going to give you a quick once over, to be frank. I normally wouldn't bother, but you're wearing armor and your human is probably missing you" I leave the kitchen and head towards my bedroom, not before making sure Bathbomb is secure in the living room.
Upon entering my bedroom, I sit at my desk and place the little warrior down. I wait, seeing if it can move around on it's own a little. It stands, somewhat shakily, on it's two legs. I didn't see much evidence of a fight save for a tear it it's breastplate and a little bit of blood beneath it's left ear. With a motion that looked unnervingly human, the mouse examined the broken sword held in it's hands.
"I think you bit off more than you could chew with Bathbomb..." I murmur, more to ground myself back in reality than anything.
The mouse looks to me, as if it understood. I ball up a shred of tissue and offer it to the warrior, it takes my offering and presses it to the blood patch on it's head. It squeaked again, but this time. In the silence of my room, without the humming of the kitchen fridge. I swore I could make out a word, feeling like a twit. I lean closer.
"Sorry?" I ask "Did you actually say something?" my voice was barely above a whisper, the mouse shifts a little. removing the tissue ball before repeating...
"I said thank you, kindly giant"
I leap back, chair clattering to the floor. I shrieked in a fashion that I would deny until my death before tripping over my bed and landing in a ungraceful heap, a mouse just talked. To me. Using people words.
Brain tumor, definitely a brain tumor.
"Well, there's no need to panic so much!" That voice squeaked again, am I being sassed by a bloody mouse?!
"Hey!" I found myself snapping back "I happen to be panicking the perfect amount for the situation" after a few moments, my heart stopped hammering so painfully and my breathing returned to some semblance of normal. I slowly eased myself back into my desk chair, peering at the warrior.
"Again" I said, with more firmness in my voice "What are you?"
"First of all" the mouse squeaked, I was unable to tell if it was male or female "Not a pet, as you assumed. As for what I am, I believe you humans have a general term for what we are. Though it isn't solid, to you. I would be one of the Fae. And my name, Tanni"
Ah, of course. A fairy. It does make an odd sort of sense. I wonder if there's a tiny mouse kingdom, with mouse armies and a mouse king and queen?
"Right, and is there any particular reason you found yourself in my kitchen trying to murder my beloved cat?" I reply, deciding to steer into the skid and embrace the absurdity of this entire situation.
"Ah, well" the warrior, or Tanni, as I now knew looked away, almost as if abashed "Your, um. Bathbomb, was it? Yes. Bathbomb had dug up and destroyed my home, I was duty bound to seek revenge. Though, as you said. I had 'bitten off more than I could chew' so to speak"
Well this is making less and less sense, though I am not in the least bit surprised that Bathbomb had brought this on himself.
"Oh" was all I could manage for a moment "Bathbomb is a dick, believe me I know, and I am very sorry about your home" I pause, if I let Tanni go will I find my Bathbomb slaughtered? Will I wake with his head in my bed?
"Look, I really am sorry about Bathbomb..." I am actually about to negotiate for my cat's life with a mouse "But please, don't kill my cat. I do happen to love him, I could rebuild your home for you maybe? And I will nurse you back to health. Again, just please don't murder the cat, I enjoy his company"
Little Tanni was quiet, before they bobbed their head in a sort of nod.
"I will not murder your pet" they said finally "Provided you help me rebuild my home and think of a way to keep Bathbomb away, because frankly. Your cat is a demon and I have no desire to face him again, he bit the blade off of my sword of and all!"
Relief washes through me and I open my mouth to respond, before slamming it shut again. I lean back in my chair, creeping dread already smothering my earlier relief.
"He what now?" I ask, already mentally tallying up the vet bill.
"Oh yes" Tanni said, brandishing the yellow pick in their hand "Snapped it right off he did, before I could even swi... where are you going?!" I barely made out their last few words as I was already heading for the door.
"Stay there!" I call back to the warrior, slamming the door behind me before bolting to the living room.
Bathbomb was on the sofa, he looked at me, and I saw what appeared to be a bright yellow toothpick sticking out of his mouth. As I advanced on the little bastard the sword disappeared into his jowls and he stood, ready to flee.
"Bathbomb! Spit that out, I SAID SPIT THAT OUT!"
| 2017-11-09T09:58:58
| 2017-11-09T09:42:10
| 42
| 23
|
[WP] Two people have just died. They both enter the same location in the afterlife. For one person, it is their personal heaven; for the other, it is hell. Describe their arrival and first "day" there.
|
Suzanne opened her eyes to be greeted by her own front room. She looked about, her heart beating fast. Was it a dream? The sickening spinning, the horror of loosing control? The crash and shattering of glass, metal, bone. The last sight of her husband, James, next to her, his neck at a terrible angle. Did she dream that?
The TV set roared, some sports fans cheering some play in some game, bringing her back to the room. In front of it sad James, in his old beaten chair. He looked up at her and smiled.
"Suzanne, guess what! Look where we are! We're in heaven! Just think we can be be here for ever, the two of us in our house together. Til the end of time. Pass me a beer will you?"
Suzanne, froze, eyes widening with dread as the truth set in. "No, no it can't be! I can't stay here, I have to get out, it isn't fair," she thought. She turned and ran, to leave, to get out of this hell she had lived in the past 30 years of marriage. She reached the front door and grabbed desperately for the handle. She turned it and pulled, but it remained stuck fast.
"Don't worry baby," said James walking drunkenly towards her, "you don't need to go outside, we have everything we could possibly want, right here".
|
"Can you believe it? They're actually paying us to come over here and kill these cave-dwelling shitheads!"
*"There must be another way" Fr. Morricone said, clutching his Rosary beads.*
"I used to tell my friends I would do this for free, if I could. Just to have the chance, you know?"
*"How can you even say that? We're talking about human lives!"*
"Eh, fuck 'em!"
*"I think I'm going to be sick."*
| 2015-01-04T13:39:28
| 2015-01-04T12:39:19
| 26
| 16
|
[WP] "What do you mean the Council won't give us a seat?" "Well, the Galactic council is... unsure... how to proceed with a species that can so readily turn predators into, well, pets."
|
"That's preposterous! We-"
Terra Ambassador Nicols had a much longer, and a much more *colorful*, response to Galactic Councilor Xendoxu-Inj's statement but knew better than to speak it aloud. Looking down at the floor of the Citadel's Council Room, Nicols lost himself in thought for a moment and did not realize that he had mindlessly began petting the flank of his companion, Steelgut, as many pet owners often do subconsciously.
But Steelgut was not just a "pet" as Councilor Xendoxu-Inj suggested - she was Nicols' companion on this journey, both as a protector and friend. You see, it was much more cost-efficient, and arguably safer, to bring along a rhamhanbludin instead of a small group of armed human escorts. Rhamhanbludins' have digestive enzymes comparable to hydrofluoric acid, and it allowed them to extract nutrients from virtually anything. That includes steel, which this particular rhamhanbludin was very fond of.
"S-..uh..sir...Ambassador."
Steelgut shifts her eyeballs to focus on Councilor Ojaminte-Qol, who was quietly trying to get Nicols' attention. She did not like it when others interrupted "scratchy time", and her disdain was apparent when her purrs halted suddenly, vibrating the entire chamber no longer.
"W-"
While the rest remained on Coucilor Ojaminte-Qol, three eyeballs zipped to glare at Councilor Xendoxu-Inj before words even left their mouth. The Councilor hesitated briefly, and, if the podiums were not in the way, you could have seen them flinch and tense up their appendages for a moment in panic. But, considering that they have been on the Council longer than some of the other Councilors' species had even discovered space travel, they quickly recovered their composure.
\*Ahem\*
Nicols looks up, still stroking Steelgut's side.
"We obviously know of all the selfless deeds Terrans have done for many of our colonies and for the Council homeworlds as a whole. It's just- I feel as if a bit more... learning... is required before we can offer you a seat among us. I mean, really, Ambassador, Councilor Tymlopxt-Pethjol is barely in his seat now."
Nicols looks towards where Councilor Tymlopxt-Pethjol is sitting, or rather, *was* sitting. Three trembling antennae were all that was there now, poking up from below the podium. It took the Rhamnabus almost 10,000 local solar orbits and billions of lives to exile every single rhamhanbludin from their planet Rhama. They shot them all into a dark, uninhabited sector of space on a vessel like a malicious Noah's Ark. And somehow, not only did the Terrans stumble across them and survive the encounter, they *domesticated* them.
"I see."
Terra Ambassador Nicols was not an unreasonable man, and understood that perhaps some cultural exchange was necessary before humans could be completely welcomed.
"Thank you, honorable Councilors, for your time today. We will take our leave for now, but would greatly appreciate if each of you would kindly send us data regarding common mannerisms for Terrans so that we may educate ourselves in your ways."
All seventeen Councilors nodded, including three quivering antennae.
Nicols bows, and gives Steelgut two light slaps on her flank.
"Let's go, Stella."
Steelgut lets out a cheerful mew, at least to Nicols' ears - to the rest of the chamber, however, it was more akin to the sound of a photon cannon backfiring.
|
*We can explain* by thatonedoveslayer
“Oh, you mean dogs and cats?”
“Yes... canine and feline species have shown to be incredibly dangerous on your planet, with both groups traveling in packs that can easily wipe out one of your kind. You have also befriended any form of reptile and amphibian creature, and some forms of avians. How did you do it? How do we know you won’t take the chance to tame wild creatures on other planets?”
Would you let us?”
“NO”
“Awww”
“Look, the point I’m trying to make is, you are the only species that wants to be a part of a council that takes another species as a sort of companion that is under your control... how should we trust you if able to do that to the species of the galaxy?”
“Dude have you even read our history? At one point an entire country went to war over keeping people as ‘pets’ and they lost that because that’s wrong. The animals we tame, we also care for. Some people are bad, but the overwhelming majority are good. We began taming creatures like dogs and cats-“
“Canines and felines”
“Yes whatever, we started taking them as companions yes, but also to help us. We tamed canines for safety, we did the same with felines. Eventually using animals for a method of labor began to be shunned upon as we got more advanced technology under our control. We then turned the animals we tamed into companions only, with some canines used in security. We have a bond with those creatures that is as old as time. We wouldn’t want to give that up for something that wasn’t from our planet to begin with. Trust us this one time, and I promise we will be a great addition to the galactic counsel with our advisory.”
“Fine but one slip up and we’ll have a long conversation about this. Ok?”
“Ok.”
| 2020-10-30T01:26:02
| 2020-10-30T00:54:17
| 420
| 131
|
[WP] "Some days, I love my job. Those days are the worst."
|
Traitor. Backstabber. Scum. I spit those epithets into the mirror morning and night. The knowledge of what I’m doing to these people makes my skin crawl, but I can’t stop. Too many lives are at stake.
That’s why they hired me, of course. Empathy. I meet someone new and everything just seems to fall into place – they relax, they open up, they trust me. I’m told I just have one of those faces. To begin with, it was harmless – I’d just throw a little charm at a girl to get into her bed, or at a traffic cop to get out of a ticket. Later on I started to push it, trying to see just how much I could convince someone to part with. It gave me a rush, for sure, but I also racked up a lot of guilt. I tried to tell myself that I wasn’t doing anything wrong – that it was always their own choice and their own greed that got them into that position – but empathy is a two way street and deep down, I never really believed my own lie.
I made my first million by the time I was twenty-four, and did my first time at twenty-five. That’s where they picked me up.
I was low, as low as I’d ever been. I felt like trash. When they came to me, it was an offer I couldn’t refuse; a fresh challenge to occupy my mind and a shot at redemption all rolled into one. Save lives, catch bad guys, use those talents for the greater good. What’s more, it got me out of the pen a few years early.
My first time was like nothing I’d ever experienced. I was in with a bunch of drug pushers, mid level guys, who were trying to bring in a shipment of coke down state. Standing there in the middle of fifteen hardened criminals, each one of them armed to the teeth and not one of them suspecting a fucking thing – that was something. I can still feel the blood pulsing in my ears, my heart trying to beat its way out of my goddamn rib cage, and the whole time nothing on my face but ice cold composure. I felt like a god.
When the feds came in and took those guys, I didn’t blink. Back then, the lines still felt clear – I was an avenging angel putting sinners where they belonged, and I felt righteous. That all starts to change when one of those sinners takes a bullet for you. When he’s bleeding out in your arms and telling you about his kids. When you look into his face and see a guy that doesn’t look too different to you, then you don’t feel quite so hot.
You tell yourself that you’re still fighting the good fight, that you’re making the world a better place. That’s easy enough when it’s about drugs, or money – when the bad guys stay bad. These guys though, these *republicans*, they’re something different. In their eyes they’re fighting for the people. In their eyes it’s them, not the party, who’s out to make the world a better place. And some days… Some days I can’t help but wonder if they might be right.
|
I lay on a long maroon couch, watching the ceiling fan spin on a low enough setting to be amusing but not actually create enough wind to make a difference. On the walls around me abstract "art" hangs next to degrees and awards. I say art loosely as it is a compilation of red and blue lines squiggling around. Hardly talent and im sure was way overpriced for something my 3 year old could draw better.
for a moment in time im lost with my own thoughts only to be brought back to the present when i hear a soft voice say
**Doc :** "whenever you're ready".
realizing im wasting $350 an hour I start to rehearse what i planned on saying coming in here.
**Myself :** "Most days I hate my job. Hate isn't a strong enough word. Most days I despise even loathe my job. However some days it is all worth it. For a brief moment in time I become filled with jubilation and ecstasy at preforming this simple but necessary task. Only to later again hate the job and hate myself even more for enjoying it. What kind of monster am I doc?
A brief moment of no talking and scribbling furiously on whatever is on that yellow legal pad fills the air.
**Doc:** mhmm.. mhmmm... and how does that make you feeeeeeel?
Fucking A... he couldn't have given me a more stereotypical psychiatrist answer if he tried.
**Myself:** "I just told you how that made me feel were you even listening."
**Doc:** "no need to get agitated this is a safe place."
I look down and notice my hands were now fists gripped so tight my knuckles were turning white.
**Doc:** "now you said you feel like a monster...That you hate your job, and hate yourself when you like your job. Why is that?"
Even though his face stayed fixated in the same neutral tone i could sense that he was feeling smug. like he just said something smart and was beaming on the inside as he proved he was listening. Well congrats buddy you just got paid $350 to do nothing and then are acting superior FUCK YOU.
**Myself:** "Did you even read what I do on the form or did i spend 30 minutes in the waiting room for nothing"
I could tell there was anger behind my voice still even though i tried to hide it.
**Doc :** "well Janice was supposed to file...
I tuned him out i knew he was spewing more bullshit than a dairy farm .
I interrupted
**Myself:** "I AM AN EXECUTIONER! "
I said that louder than i wanted Im sure this room wasnt sound proofed enough for the people in the other room to Not hear that. I wait to see the surprise, the shock, something to validate what i just said. something to show that i am not alone.
**Doc:**"mhmmm... mhmm... and how does that make you feeeeel..."
I storm out slamming the door hard enough to hopefully make one of his stupid paintings fall.
| 2015-07-16T07:19:54
| 2015-07-16T07:05:23
| 32
| 21
|
[WP] The hellish trenches of the Great War were dug rapidly and with very little regard of what came before. So, when the bones of the old gods buried deep were exposed to mankind once again they rose from their slumber. At first the gods were confused, angry. Then, they picked sides.
|
"Tygrothrop has thrown his lot in with the French, sir".
"The French? What could possibly have interested him about the French? They couldn't charge a nursery much less sacrifice anything worthwhile!"
"Well you see sir, our arcanists have found that one of the Gaul peoples creation myths was a contextualisation of Tygrothrop, the French still have his influence in their minds"
"Influence! what kind of influence could they possibly have that we don't!"
"w-w-well you see sir, Tygrothrop's emissaries demand sacrifice. The entities sworn enemy is Milthris sir, as the reports clearly say, and as the etymology of Milthris is based on our contextual understanding of Mithril, the nordic denominations say that bec-"
"Get to it man, we have a war to win here! Our men are bursting in their boots and half my officers are speaking in tongues!"
"Tygrothrop's ancient enemy is the goose sir. The French are esteemed for their consumption of the goose"
|
The hellish trenches of the Great War were dug rapidly and with very little regard of what came before. So, when the bones of the old gods buried deep were exposed to mankind once again the rose from their slumber. At first the gods were confused, angry. Then, they picked sides. But they knew what they would do with the dead. And in this way they had their vengeance on the men. The earth trembled with the voices of the dead. There was a great clamor in the villages and towns across the empire:
"The Great War! The terrible wars of the gods in the skies, the bloody battles! The war of ages!"
But what did all this have to do with the men? The men knew not the great deeds they would be fighting for, and the war had its causes. When there was no enemy there was no need to be a fighting God. But what was there to know? What would they gain, what would they lose? The great armies of men who had fought on their own behalf had to wait for their return. So there came a time of rest and quiet. Then they saw the glory of the dead. And when the spirits of the dead began to rise up the men had no fear and no need in fighting for gods and for glory. But there was a terrible curse. In that period of time the people of earth began to become more savage and more vicious. There were wars for food and for war; for women and for men; and it was all very bloody and cruel. They would fight for the dead, but the people were afraid of the dead. Then a great war was fought.
"War! War! The Great War! The war against the dead! The Great War!"
And so the men fought with their own souls as the men fought for glory. There was a great war.
And when the dead had fallen the Great War had begun. There had been war before, but not this great. And now the men had no more fear of the dead than the men had of their own souls. But the war was not over yet.
"The Great War, the war between gods, the war against the dead!"
| 2020-10-06T23:45:02
| 2020-10-06T23:00:27
| 77
| 14
|
[WP] Year 2040, you are tasked with rebooting Harry Potter franchise. Write the first few paragraphs of "Harry Potter Begins".
For books, not movies. HP Begins will be book 1.
|
Harry awoke from a dead sleep with a burning pain in the center of his forehead. It was a pain he hadn’t felt in twenty years or more. Ginny stirred in her sleep next to him. Harry looked down at her and felt cold fear run through him. It had been so long and they were so happy now. They had suffered enough for more than a lifetime and Harry was not going to let evil take over his life. Not again.
He had put it all behind him. The pain, the ache of losing so many people that he loved, the nightmares, the constant state of worry. He had finally healed, as much as one can, and settled into a happy life with his wife and children. He rubbed his palm against his forehead wondering if he had dreamed the burning sensation that was slowly dissolving. But he knew. He knew this was no ordinary twinge of nerves and that something was coming.
Harry laid back against the pillows with a deep sigh. He knew he’d never get back to sleep now. But somehow, when he closed his eyes, breathed deep once more, he drifted off quickly into a deep sleep where the memories overtook him. He couldn’t fight the pull into his own mind.
********
Harry awoke with a start to the sound of footsteps pounding down the stairs above him.
“Wake up! Wake up!” his cousin Dudley shouted as he stomped down the stairs one at a time. Harry squinted at the ceiling, watching the dust moats float down as he pushed his glasses onto his nose...
|
"Evil exists in many forms, but so does good. The smallest of embers can create the largest blazes, but who ever said fire was a bad thing? Evil, much like the fire, takes only a little push to get started down that rocky path, yet with the right conditions, that same ember can become the savior of so many lost and cold souls" - Baba Yaga
_____________________________________
Chapter 1. The Boy Who Lived
Harry never knew his parents. Having grown up with his horrid Aunt and Uncle and their spoiled rotten child, he believed that every younger sibling was sentenced to a life of living under the stairs. From a young age, Harry was able to see that he and his cousin were vastly different, both in size and in intellect, and what his cousin, Dudley, didnt understand, he hit; and Harry was often misunderstood. Not to say he hated his life, there was something pleasent about it, whether it was the hand-me-downs or neglect, Harry always found that in his forced routine he found some freedom and some peace.
That changed in the strangest twenty four hours of his life.
On July 31st, Harry's tenth birthday, a letter came in the mail. Unlike the rest of the post, this letter had no postal stamp, nor did it seem to fit into the mailbox, yet it was pristine and unfolded. Staring at the loopy emerald writing he lost track of time. How long he had been standing out there he would never know.
"HARRY!! WHERE IS THE BLOODY MAIL?!" Uncle Vernon roared from the kitchen. Though seperated by two walls, drawn shades and a front yard the sound still seemed as though it were right in Harry's ear. Snapping out of his reverie Harry ran inside.
"I've got this peculiar looking letter here" Harry said, while handing the rest of the mail to his family.
"Pfffft! Someone probably just spelled MY name wrong" Dudley yelled, grabbing the letter.
'The baffoon hasn't the foggiest idea how spelling works' Harry thought, but knew better than to say. He did not want to begin his birthday with another black eye; last year was enough to learn a lesson.
Aunt Petunia snatched the letter from her son with a practiced motion, knowing full well that Harry was the better reader, and no one could mix up the spelling of "Harry" and "Dudley" and she confirmed Harry's confusion.
"It is for you...but there is no return address..." Aunt Petunia almost whispered in her high and grating voice. She seemed more pale than usual as she quickly sat down, lost in that loopy emerald writing.
Hearing his wife's tone, Uncle Vernon, the bulldog of a man with the stubborness of a mule, quickly looked up from the usual stack of rubbish mail and bills to see what the commotion was about.
"Mr. Harry J. Potter, 4 Privet Drive, cuppard under the stairs" Uncle Vernon had the opposite reaction to his wife, growing more and more purple with each word. "PREPOSTEROUS!! NO ONE KNOWS YOU LIVE HERE! WHO WOULD HAVE BUSINESS WITH YOU!?"
With a deep breath, Vernon attempted to calm himself and through gritted teeth whispered to Harry "Explain. Boy!"
Harry stammered. He had less of an idea than either of them, he was only ten, and never once signed up for any mailings. Who could possibly be writing to him?
| 2014-10-01T10:09:43
| 2014-10-01T09:45:36
| 40
| 15
|
[WP] You are given a writing prompt by your English Professor. You decide to post the writing prompt to r/writingprompts and get an amazing story. You decide to use that story as your own and turn it in as your assignment only to find out that your professor was the one who wrote the story.
|
"You didn't write this."
"Sir? 'Course I did."
"No. You didn't. And get off your phone."
" Sir, you can't accuse me of playerger- player- of *copying*, without no proof. I could report you to the teacher council."
"*Teacher council?* You really are a buffoon."
"Thank you, sir. So you believe me?"
"You couldn't write a Christmas list to santa, let alone a well researched theologically sound allegory about the selling out of classical hinduism through the eyes of a modern American."
" Sir? My story was about selling weapons. Was a spy thing. "
"It bloody well wasn't. It was a deep, multi faceted, many levelled concoction, building to a sterling crescendo. "
"Oh, that's very kind of you sir."
"And a dunce like you did not and could not *possibly* write it."
"You don't know that."
"Ah! But, my naive little friend, I do know that. Do you know how I know that?"
"...Yes, sir. I think I do."
"Yes sir? What do you mean *yes sir*?"
" Well, there's only one way you could know. And um, I should say I did a little research of my own. User history, you see sir. "
"... I ... "
" As you say sir, it was a deep story. Ally gorical. So deserves a B, I'm thinking. "
"Only a B -- that's insane! Wait... You little worm. Are you trying to blackmail me!?"
"Sir, all I'm saying is big and bouncy is one thing, but posting on malesgonewild might not have been--"
"Very good! That will be all. Well done on your story."
"Thank you, sir. Oh and sir..."
" ... "
"Congrats on the gold."
"Yes, well. Thank you, I suppose. Although I'd rather it had been for the story."
---
/r/nickofnight
|
This wasn’t what I had expected to write when I went to browse r/WritingPrompts. My plan was to compose something worthwhile – something to take the reader’s breath away. Perhaps a tale from a land of four warring nations and swirling elemental magic, where heroes reign and Good clashes with Evil. Maybe a mysterious story about an android girl who gets pulled out of a dumpster and has to save the city from, not one, but two evil AIs who also happen to be twin sisters. I wanted to possibly write something dark – something along the lines of Gothic horror – Count Dracula teaming up with Van Helsing to solve a string of strange murders, perhaps.
At any rate, I wasn’t expecting to be writing this.
I look at the prompt again. It’s still there – it’s not like it’s going away. I wonder what the others will write about. The Devil maybe? Something with banana cake and time travel? A sob story about losing a significant other? Maybe something about Bob Ross?
I mean, nobody’s actually going to write about a student plagiarizing their teacher’s story, right? Right? There has to be some kind of twist to it, otherwise it’s just a cooking recipe in the prompt\-form, and a mediocre one at that – it would be like reading a bowl of porridge.
I need something devious and original, something that Reddit hasn’t seen before, something that’ll make people go ‘Aha! That’s amazing!’ and then shower me with virtual points… and gold, of course. Yes... those sweet, succulent golden coins that tell everyone that ‘**THIS RIGHT HERE IS WORTH READING**’ (but in reality does next to nothing\) – yeah, definitely going to be aiming for gold.
Gold is something that even non\-redditors can understand, it's a universal symbol of value. I'll be able to show off in the cafeteria. My fellow teachers will all go ‘ooh’ and ‘aah’ in awe. I especially like the ‘aahs.’
Aah, I got it!
Okay, so here’s the perfect idea for a story. Get this: Inception meets the Joker meets Game of Thrones \(the Little Finger episodes\)! Actually, this story right here is a good start. Can you see it?
Well... it is an early draft.
I just need to make sure nobody steals it. What’s the best way? Hmm… I’ll just make it so gut\-wrenchingly horrible that even if a student steals it, I can just fail it without having to reveal my Reddit pen name.
Ah, and then to further trap my unsuspecting students, I’ll just hand out this writing prompt in class:
**[WP\] You are given a writing prompt by your English Professor. You decide to post the writing prompt to r/writingprompts and get an amazing story. You decide to use that story as your own and turn it in as your assignment only to find out that your professor was the one who wrote the story.**
Dark days ahead, my dear pupils, dark days ahead…
| 2018-04-14T07:08:38
| 2018-04-14T06:41:27
| 3,552
| 344
|
[WP] You’re cursed with immortality, not because you sold your soul or you’re a sort of immortal creature but because a few thousand years ago, you stepped on the back of Death’s robe and being the petty shit Death is, he hasn’t forgiven you since.
Edit: okay, wow, I definitely did not expect this to get so popular and to the front page. It was just a little random thing! Thank you so much everyone! I love all your entries!
|
You apologized for stepping on the robe. Apparently it hadn’t been enough.
“Curse you! This is my favorite robe! It’ll never be the same now that it’s been tainted by a mortal’s footprint! I, Death himself, curse you to never know the sweet release of death!” said the robed man, looking like a lunatic rather than a mystical being.
You apologized again and offered to take it to the cleaners while mentally rolling your eyes. It wasn’t even a whole footprint. The madman swished his robes and stalked off, and you thought that was that.
But it wasn’t. Because you didn’t age or die.
When you suddenly realized what was happening, you asked yourself what you were going to do for the rest of eternity. You didn’t even know what to do with one life.
Might as well be something related to what got you in trouble in the first place. Might as well make some robes.
With all the time in the world, you eventually became the universe’s greatest robe maker. You brought them back to fashion, brought designs to new heights, and created a level and luxury and mysticism the world has never seen. But eventually you got bored.
One day, a man walked into the store.
“Hello, I’d like the best robe you have to offer, a dirty peasant ruined my las...” he paused. “Oh it’s you.” You stared. This was your chance.
“Why yes, I actually have the best robe anyone could possibly offer right here!” You unwrapped super special packaging and unveiled a robe created with the darkest of silks and imitated the brightest of nights. “It’s all yours for the low cost of the sweet release of death!”
“I couldn’t possibly remove the world’s greatest robe maker! And I did promise you that you would never die!” Death exclaimed. “Do you take any other forms of payment?”
“For fucks sake,” you said.
The end
|
*Received 11:34*
>Hey Andy
*Received 11:36*
>Andy! I know you're dying to talk to me! LOL!
"Hey, Great Great Grandpa Andy"
"What is it Little Johnny"
"This Death guy is sending you messages on Twitter"
"Oh what does he want this time?"
*Received 11:37*
>Common Andy, I'll let you die already!
"He's talking about letting you die? I'm confused Great Great Grandpa Andy. Is that why you are so old?"
"No. I'm Just healthy. Tell him to leave you alone, and your grandfather is not here"
*Sent 11:38*
>Grandpa sad he not heer.
*Received* 11:39
>Tell Andy I am serious, I'll be there to visit him in 20.
"He said he's coming over in 20. Can I meet your friend?"
"Sorry Johnny, he's a grown up friend, and a stranger to you"
*Received 11:42*
>You can come too, Johnny.
"Grandpa, he knows my name, and said I can come!"
"No Johnny"
*Received 11:43*
>Yes you can Johnny!
"Grandpa he said I could again"
"Dammit Johnny, give me my tablet, you're not playing games."
*Received 11:44*
>And bring me money my dry cleaning fee.
"And he also said to bring money for dry cleaning"
**Johnny walked over and gave his grandfather the tablet, and frowned.**
"So why can't I meet him, he sounds like a nice pe-"
"Because I said so"
"Aww"
"Go To your Room"
**Johnny left the room and went to his room.**
*Received 11:52*
>Are you paying attention still?
*Sent 11:54*
>No, leave me alone.
**Andy waited passed out with the tablet in his lap, till there was a knock at the door, and the grandfather clock dinged. Andy got out of the chair and opened the door to see death there in his robes and scythe**.
"Hi Andy, how was your 267th birthday this year on earth?"
"Cut to the chase death, you just want your damn money"
"Yep, and let me guess, you still won't pay it."
"Nope"
"Someday once I get rights, I'm going to take you to court for it."
"The same day you decide to do your job."
"Hey it's not my fault, you decided to have muddy boots and not watch where you were walking when I was taking your wife to heaven."
"And its not my fault you wear all black, maybe you should of worn a green robe."
"Hmph."
"See you again next year, Deathy-darling!"
**Andy shut the door on death, and death yells from the outside.**
"Oh Come-on Andy, you only owe me about Tree-Fiddy!"
&#x200B;
&#x200B;
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| 2018-10-12T09:34:11
| 2018-10-12T09:13:58
| 437
| 96
|
[WP] Every year, the richest person in America is declared the "Winner of Capitalism." They get a badge. Then all of their wealth is donated to charity and they have to start over at $0.
(Cross-post from /r/CrazyIdeas)
|
Steve sighed.
He and Bill had been partners in this ridiculous venture for years now. It had felt so necessary at the start, but the necessary hassle had quickly lost its novelty value.
'Hassle' was an understatement and a half, he thought with a wry grin. Careful reading of the new legislation had highlighted the obvious loophole - if the rich-list was topped by two equally wealthy people then by definition there was no richest man and no winner of capitalism. One very expensive Supreme Court case had confirmed that, theoretically, this meant no one would have to give up their wealth.
So Steve and Bill had made that theory a reality. Year in, year out, in the weeks leading up to The Deadline, they would sit in a shared office with dozens of of lawyers and accountants whose sole purpose was to make sure that they had exactly equal wealth. Down to the cent.
*Down to the cent*
Steve looked at the brown coin he spun lazily in his fingers as the seconds ticked down to midnight.
It hadn't taken long for the novelty to wear off. At first there had been a thrill in cheating the system. Now, government observers sat in the office every Deadline Day and auditors constantly scrutinised every detail of his finances.
It was tiring. He wasn't long for this world, with the cancer having spread. And anyway, Bill had really started to *fucking annoy him*.
"Hey Bill" he called, breaking the strained silence as he stopped spinning the coin. A sea of faces turned to him.
*"Catch."*
|
I stared at it. Little pools of light stared back at me like a haphazard collection of stars.
The Badges given to the Winners of Capitalism were impossibly beautiful. They claimed it was just plain silver, but these... these Badges shone and glowed with their own inner light. The nature of their craftsmanship had remained a mystery, all these years. Jealously guarded by both the shadowy organization that ran the Contest and their Winners, no-one else had ever gotten close enough to puzzle them out.
You'd need to be about two feet away, specifically. Like how I'm standing two feet away from this one here, which I'm about to steal.
I put my greed away and stared again with a professional's eye. The eagle worked into the middle stared back at me balefully. His feathers rose off the surface of the Badge, each at a unique distance and curl. If I wanted to, I could count the strands on each one.
Perfect. It wasn't a decoy. Specifically, like this decoy here, which I'm about to use.
The glass case covering the Badge was alarmed. If compromised, elite security personnel would be waiting to rush into the room with submachine guns drawn. If I hadn't blackmailed one squad leader, bribed another, and arranged for a reputable dealer of mood-altering comestibles to meet the third at the edge of the property one minute and thirty-six seconds ago, I would be in serious trouble.
There's probably a lesson here about vices I should be paying attention to, but this thing is so damn *pretty*. And also the key to a wonderful future where I don't have to work nearly as hard. And more vices. Three cheers for vices, is I guess the lesson.
Also, if you're going to hire elite security teams and alarum glass and bend over backwards to protect your Badge, maybe don't skimp on the display plinth *underneath* it, or disreputable dealers of display installations (hello, nice to meet you!) will exploit your laziness. That's worth learning, too.
I dropped to my knees and depressed a single knurl of scrollwork on the plinth. The Badge descended into the plinth's hollow interior, and presented itself beautifully to me once the hidden compartment door popped open. I replaced it with its less-lustrous decoy and made my departure.
*So* gorgeous. *Such* a wonderful microcosm of the Contest. Whether I sold this Badge on the black market, or back to its owner, or blackmailed the Contest with it, I had seized my opportunity and would receive millions or billions in compensation -- and be well on my way to winning this year's Contest. Why hadn't anyone else ever done this?
There had been rumours of tracking beac*BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEE*like that one there, specifically, which I'm about to be caught with.
Three cheers for vices.
| 2018-01-11T02:18:40
| 2018-01-11T00:47:06
| 76
| 30
|
[WP] Write a superhero whose superpower only makes sense after you read the story twice.
|
It was another long trip in the car. Greg had another 4 hours of driving to go, and maybe enough gas to make it all the way there. Feeling an urge, he cracked the window as he leaned forward a little in his seat, positioned his body and arms, and began urinating out the window of the speeding car.
This was a skill Greg had acquired as a boy. Doctors weren't sure how to explain it with any word other than "superpower". And though he would probably never fight crime or save anyone's life, Greg could pee out of his finger, and that was good enough for Greg.
|
I stretched to warm myself up. I was getting old, a little tighter and a little less elastic than the days of my youth. Too many beatings, too many kicks to the head and brawls in darkened alleys. One of these days, I told myself, you’re going to have to give it up. I tried to steer my thoughts away from the negative, ignored the throbbing pain in my wrist from my leap down the fire escape last week, and the aching orbit of my eye from when that thug whacked me across the face with his twelve gauge. I tried to go zen. I concentrated on stretching.
I met my connection at precinct 17. A good kid. He left a folder of files out on the window sill and I snagged them. Files with possible or definite leads that the coppers couldn’t do a thing about. Restrained by the law. Unlike me. They would throw my sorry ass in jail if they caught me for half the stuff I did, even after all the loose ends I tied up for them, all the scum I washed away, and that’s why I never got caught. I was like a dog, unbound by the rules of society, but they would put me down the moment I lost my usefulness, the moment I went soft.
I found a quiet rooftop and shuffled through the files. Increasing drug activity in the neighborhoods near the wharf. Some bad dope going around. More than a few overdoses. I knew a few heads I could stave in, a few people I could dangle from a high place until the squealed and coughed up the answers.
It was near three in the morning, but this section of town operated in its own personal time zone. It might as well have been high noon here. People played music or what passed for music from half the houses. I was always more of a jazz guy myself. The occasional squad of young trouble makers prowling the streets, their cockiness bolstered by booze, waiting for anything to happen. It was rare that a night passed without the sound of at least a few gunshots echoing in the distance. I kept to the rooftops. I had spent the last week busting heads and gathering intel, and as from what I gleaned there were a few crack dens at the far end of Bleeker street. I made my way there, avoiding the glow of neon and the faded light of streetlamps.
I found who I was looking for.
He went by the name of Phillip. His specialty was acquiring exotic goods for people with the dough, people who were vetted. You could buy a handgun with the serial number filed off on any street corner, but if you wanted a rocket launcher or a mini-gun or anti-gravity boots, Phillip was the guy. Phillip knew everyone and everyone knew Phillip. He was also part owner in a bar down the street from the crack den. He kept an eye on things from there, and his associates pointed people with a taste for powder, or people looking of a night time companion, in the right direction.
I reached the bar and squatted on the roof, contemplating my next move. I pressed my ear to the back window, where Phillip would most likely hold court. I heard muttering voices, too vague to discern. I waited on the roof, banged on the back door, and waited. The voices stopped and uttered a few curse words. The door opened and two men with guns stepped out.
A grabbed them both by the back of the head and smacked them into the wall and then hurled the rest of my body through the open door. I was right. Phillip was sitting with his legs kicked up on a desk, watching a small television in the corner. I went for the AK against the wall but I shot my leg out and stamped on his hand. He cursed and I head butted him. Another one of his associates ran to the bar for help but I shot out my other leg and tripped him. I grabbed Phillip, hauled him out into the street and we disappeared into the night. It was time to answer some questions.
This was probably way too obvious, but he's a super stretchy elastic guy. Like Mr. Fantastic.
| 2014-12-07T10:14:02
| 2014-12-07T09:39:16
| 75
| 16
|
[WP] “How many people would have been better off had I not been born?” The genie snaps and a few numbers appear in the air and form 7,592. “Okay, how many people would benefit from my existence?” With the flip of a wrist the numbers spin to a whopping 137 trillion. “Okay.... how?”
|
"What, are you serious?"
"Yeah," I said. "How can I possibly help 137 trillion people? Earth's population is only what, 7 billion?"
"Oh gosh, I didn't realize you were so dumb." The genie flicked his wrist and the number dropped to 100 billion.
"Hey!"
"Don't feel bad. That's still way more people than your existence harms."
"So how are there even a hundred billion people?"
"The choices you make can have long-lasting effects impacting generations upon generations of the yet to be born. Just, you know, maybe not as many people as someone a little brighter."
"What choices could I possibly make that has that big an impact?" I asked. "I'm nobody."
The genie stared at me for a long uncomfortable moment. "You. Have. A. Genie."
|
The genie smile's "You develop the first space-time gate in 2 years allowing humanity to instantly spread throughout the universe. "
I fill up with pride " I always knew I was special and a deal is a deal with my third wish I set you free"
The lamp crumbles and the genie shakes his arms as the shackles fall off.as he is flying away thinking to himself that was easy you just have to stroke their ego and leave out the details.
| 2018-08-15T04:55:10
| 2018-08-15T04:08:10
| 5,641
| 15
|
[WP] The Government puts out a notice, and you, a random citizen have been selected. If you survive for another 10 years everyone in the world gets $10,000. However, if someone kills you in the next 9 years and 364 days they alone get $10,000,000.
|
My name flashed on the screen. Not just my name--my date of birth, my city of birth, and my picture, a photo from a couple of years ago we were forced to submit. The moment I saw it my heart leaped into my throat and my gut felt like someone dropped a ton of rocks in it. Time seemed to stop, and all there was was the television screen and the soft robotic voice of the announcer. Then, adrenaline rushed through my body. I knew the game. We all knew it. The next step was to find safety.
I rushed through the living room, into the kitchen, down the stairs into the basement. As I did I heard my wife Janet begin to wail upstairs. She was giving our youngest, Bryson, a bath, and listening to the broadcast on the radio. I heard her shout, "No, no, no, no," again and again as she drained the water from the tub and shuffled her feet upstairs, no doubt wrapping Bryson in a towel so she could come downstairs to catch me. I'll never know for certain.
In the basement we had a closet with three large backpacks hanging on hooks. One for me, one for my wife, and one for our oldest son, Daniel, who was away to college right now. Dust collected on the tops, thickest on mine and Janet's. The phone rang upstairs. I could hear my wife stomping around up there. The air in the basement was musty, like moldy bread. I grabbed my backpack off the hook and quickly unzipped it, ensuring the clothing and food inside was still vacuum sealed, still safe from the elements.
"Lewis!" I heard my wife cry out. "Lewis don't go yet!" Bryson was crying. Viola, our middle child, just starting eighth grade, came out of her room. "What is going to happen to dad?" I heard her say, her voice muffled above. I had the backpack on and was running toward the stairs leading up to the back entrance. I could feel the tears running down my face. As I reached the top of the stairs, I threw open the back door. Janet's voice, loud and despairing in my right ear, screaming for me to stop, to take her with me.
I almost stopped. I almost took her with me.
Immediately upon leaving the back door, stepping out into the cold night air, I barely saw my neighbor, Allan, standing across the driveway, behind his white picket fence, silhouetted by the lights of his home. He had a hunting rifle leveled at me. He never said anything, he just took the shot, and I managed to duck out of the way just in time. He was too close for such a long range weapon, and he knew it, dropping the rifle and pulling a silver pistol out of his side holster. I was running down the driveway to the car, my car, my breath hot in my lungs. I had just eaten a big dinner before the announcement--spaghetti and meatballs, a nice salad. Garlic bread. Glass of wine. I could feel the acidity of the pasta sauce gargling up my throat.
Allan took a couple of shots at me, all missed. I reached the car and threw myself inside, starting the engine without even thinking about it. Allan shot twice more, putting a hole in the windshield. I turned on the headlights, and he was now in full light. Viola was there too, and I heard her scream, "Stop shooting, you asshole!" Allan looked over at her, then quickly ran inside his house as I pulled out of the driveway. My wife never left the house. I drove in silence for hours, tears pouring down my face, choking myself with my own sobs. I slept in the back seat. I watched the sun rise while eating a bag of beef jerky.
The first step, they say, is to get as far away from everyone you know as you can. They are always the first to come, because they know you, they know how you work, where you go, what you do. After that, it's just a matter of hunkering down and moving constantly. That's how you make it. Or so they say. But the big thing is: you never go back.
|
When my mail was delivered to my desk that day I was suprised.I told the post office no mail. I thought it must be a joke. My assistant told me “No sir it was in your mailbox.” When I opened the letter and read “You shall be killed. Your killer will receive $10,000,000 If you survive every person on earth will be given $10,000.” Signed by no one other than the President of the United States.
I thought to myself “Why the fuck did they do this to ME. Of all fucking people. They must be jealous of what I have accomplished. They know the power I can wield but choose not to. The world has already lost one visionary years ago. I will not let it lose another. I will die on my own terms.”
The next day it was announced. Suddenly my estate in Washington was bombarded with attacks. The locals were always wary of my presence always thinking I was up to some global elite mischief.
My security detail knew the rules. Any offer they received to attack me I would double. I had their loyalty after they each approached me. One of them approached me after receiving his check.
“Sorry Sir, I could really do a lot with 30 million”
The fool didn’t know my office had cameras. I was able to stall him long enough for a sniper to get into position. His life was snuffed with complete indiscretion. Every person who was around my estate Saw it, Heard it, and Feared it.
The attempts on my life continued. Fools tried ramming my gate. Flying bush planes onto my property. I recall even one man from a nearby national guard post stole an assault vehicle and killed 7 of my men. They were replaced but my heart still ached for their families. I remember thinking “I can do more good if I stay alive for just the next few years than I could ever do with all of my riches. So survive I will at any cost.”
Eight long and gruesome years passed by. The attacks became far less frequent but more organized as the years went on. Even radical terror cells tried to kill me. They had breached my estate after the second year. My house is built Very well. It took them 3 more months to actually get into the doors of my home. I retreated into my bunker moments after they broke in. They have been trying to get in since then. Luckily my security team still knows the stakes. I paid each of them a premium for every person they kill that steps foot on my property. Some people have lasted long enough to reach the bunker doors but most are killed before they reach the what once was a front door. Now it’s just me, my wife, an assistant, my personal bodyguard, and two of my 3 children.
My youngest had been captured in the first few days. She was held captive for 3 months before a rescue operation was launched. I lost a daughter that day. The men had taken her and then they took her. They sent me everything. My wife took this harder than I did. She was thrown into a depression but I couldn’t let her leave she meant too much to me. She wanted out. She wanted to walk to her death, I stopped her because seeing my daughter die was impossible but seeing the light of my life die would kill me. I made her stay.
She was not happy for the ensuing years. I knew she was dead on the inside. She feigned happiness when our remaining childrens birthdays happened. She slept in a separate room on our anniversaries. So many years passed.
I was going to the living room quarters when she appeared. My wife with a knife from the kitchen. Surely I thought she wasn’t going to kill me. She had everything in the world before all this happened and she knew she would have everything when it was over as well. She plunged the knife into herself whispering over and over again“I hate you.” We had no doctor and only a significant supply of our daily medications left. I watched my wife die in a matter of minutes.
The life got sucked out of me.
I knew I was going to kill myself the moment year 10 came around.
I put up with the last two years. I didn’t speak to my remaining children. They survived I survived. My assistant got in the way. I grew impatient. I threw him out. They killed him. My bodyguard grew angry towards me. I killed him.
The clock hit 12:01 a.m I pulled the trigger.
So this is it. This is death. This is what they all wanted. I hope they like that $10,000 dollars. THIS is not what I expected. My wife standing over me smiling. My daughter grinning at me just like she used to. I felt at peace.
Signing off William Henry Gates The Third.
| 2017-05-17T20:01:23
| 2017-05-17T19:55:39
| 397
| 20
|
[WP] A year ago the Dragons returned, the world finally having warmed up enough to keep them from freezing to death, and with them have returned the Fae and all the magic; which is replacing technology quickly. You've quit your mundane job, and today you've set off on your first-ever Quest.
|
It had been a year since the first dragon returned. Apparently global warming was good for something, because the dragons brought magic and faes and all sorts of mythical things. And global warming brought the end of global warming, thank the gods, as we had conjured up some ridiculous set of spells that did something, I think it draws carbon dioxide from the air and turns it into something, but that's besides the point.
Today I'm going to set off on my first ever quest.
Magic was quickly replacing technology, but that doesn't mean tech just went out the window, no, it got an upgrade. Magically connected wifi all across the globe, hell yeah. I checked my phone and pulled up my Quest Log. Well Quest Log being the app everyone that wants to get hired for a quest uses.
My first quest was simple, wipe out some goblins, gotta start somewhere, right?
The location was fairly nearby, and the goblins hadn't become a threat yet, but the city leaders thought that it was only a matter of time. Doesn't matter as long as they pay me what I want. And for a first quest this had a pretty damn good price.
$500,000 to wipe out this encampment.
That price tag might make it seem dangerous, but in reality that's a measly sum for some of the more elite adventurers, plus the city has no idea what it's doing when it comes to all this new magic stuff, they tried to keep their head in the ground until someone nearly got killed by it.
I drove to the outside of the encampment and parked my car ok the hill above it. Alright I should have most of my gear, let's get started.
There's about a dozen goblins in all. They've got tens and a campfire and are outfitted with spears for the most part.
I raise my Steyr AUG and put the first goblin's head in my crosshairs. Breathe in. Hold. Squeeze.
The rifle bucks a little bit, recoil taking hold, but the goblin falls in an instant. The rest of them gather around the center of the camp, big mistake.
I flip the fire mode selector to burst, this AUG was specially commissioned thanks to my adventurers license.
With just a few more well placed shots the goblins all fall, ugh, goblins are fucking disgusting. I rifle through their camp and find some interesting stuff, little bit of gold, some jewelry, and a magic ring that I'll have to get identified later.
That was it? Kinda feels like I cheated, but who cares, I'm getting paid!
I return to the city and get my reward, deposited straight into my bank account. Sitting down at my computer I look at the next couple of quests. One for a young dragon's bounty catches my eye, but I'm gonna need a party for that.
|
That's enough, I've had it
I'm over my menial ways
Mundane and repeating
Day after day
These reports and this filing
It's always the same
I want some adventure
A real life role playing game
To quest and to loot
Against tremendous foes
To travel and shoot
Magical bows
*And arrows?*
Yes arrows, thank you Karen
*No problem Steve*
*Can you get down from the desk please Steve?*
Uhh, yeah sure, I'm doing a thing here Jim.
*Yeah, I can see that Steve, but you're distracting others.*
Right sorry.
I'll wear armour, ride horseback
Across mystical lands
I'll fight dragons and demons
In mercenary bands
I'll be home in time for tea
With my fairest of maidens
*Don't you forget, Steve*
*I want that report on my desk by*
Three
*Yes, three.*
| 2017-11-25T08:21:50
| 2017-11-25T03:27:28
| 16
| 10
|
[WP] There is a man who can give the exact amount of cost for any project forseeing all issues that will arise. Gone are the days of estimated budgets as he is never wrong. As a joke you email him asking how much it would be to bake a dozen cookies. He replies... $9,444,012
|
$9,444,012. Whatever. I got off the phone with Bob Barker, who had just told me it would take a ludicrous amount of money to bake cookies that afternoon. He had some kind of magic budget predicting power, but this was clearly a joke. I hadn't even planned on baking, but now I had to. Just to see.
First I went to the store to get all the ingredients. I stopped on the way for gas; $44.07. Not a big deal. The ingredients weren't too bad either. $2 for chocolate chips, six for flour, and $1.66 for eggs. I had sugar and milk at home.
So far we were at $53.73, and things were going smooth. I began to smirk as I prepared the dough. Even if the whole cost of my house (about 1.2 Million Dollars) was included in this cost, it still wouldn't come close. Yea, that guy was clearly messing with me. Cookies in the oven, I decided to lay on the couch and do some math while they baked. Pretty soon, I found myself dozing off. Turns out that was a mistake.
A long time later, I woke up. How long had it been? They told me 15 years. A coma? No, that couldn't be right. Couldn't be... Couldn't be. What about my house? Gone. Well, that was a drag. I began to be filled with grief at the though of my family having to go so long without me, when I remembered the cookies. I asked my wife to show me the bill. She resisted at first, said I needed to rest, but for a moment, it was the only thing that mattered to me.
I was shocked when I saw the bill, but I don't know what I was expecting. $8,243,953.12. Even in my post coma state, however, it only took my sharp mind a moment to realize it was short by $5.15. Ha. Well, Bob got it pretty close. I'd have to tell him if he was still around.
Seeing that I had relaxed, my wife said "oh, I got you a present by the way," and produced a box of chocolate chip cookies that she'd gotten from the store.
I began to stutter. "H-ho- how-"
She shrugged. "A little over five dollars. Why?"
|
The reply came in instantly, i was hesitant at first due to seeing the first comma in the subject but the munchies were getting the best of me and i *needed* these cookies to satisfy my needs. I opened the email and it said:
> Hello Steve,
>
> Thank you for making an inquiry today about the cost of baking your delicious cookies!
>
> Please see details enclosed about the breakdown of cost.
>Cost breakdown:
> Cookie Ingredients: $12
> Prediction fees: $9,444,000
>Total: $9,444,012
>Thank you for your business and we look forward to seeing you again soon.
Fuck, i didn't know this service cost. Today i had the most expensive batch of cookies know to man.
_____________________________________________________________
This is my first time writing and i know im not the best. Any input would be appreciated.
| 2016-11-30T09:37:03
| 2016-11-30T07:47:44
| 128
| 55
|
[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.
|
Tim wakes up with a scream. He knows something is wrong, but can't figure it out what. His body just wants to go back to sleep. He's never fully understood what the words above people's heads were, but after the first visit to the doctor he's never spoken about it again.
After last night's explosion, he's finally started to realize how sudden death can be. He knows exactly what the words mean.
His mom enters the room. Tim runs out of the apartment, and his mom follows him out with panic, sick with worry that he's going to need to see the psych again. He's knocking and screaming on every door and heading outside. Some people follow him out the building, worried that Tim's mom will have to handle him by herself.
A few minutes later, the building blows up.
Just another news story in NYC.
---
Criticism welcome and wanted.
|
They were all the same; burning. Let's just cut to the exposition: I knew how people died, to me a small piece of text would appear above their head. This would always contain their cause of death. No time, no ways to prevent, just their grim fate. Since birth I could always see this. Over time I learned to accept it and hide this unnatural knowledge. After all who'd listen to some kid's ramblings. Nowadays, I ignored it, except today. Here in this bus I noticed that everyone in here had the same cause of death. All of them would burn. Now I never see my own cause of death. It was a mystery I never wanted to know, but now I had that itching feeling. That little niggling idea that sits at the back of your mind. It was driving me crazy. To you, dear reader, I guess you know already. Though at the time I didn't know. I didn't know the bus would go up in flames.
| 2015-03-31T08:43:31
| 2015-03-31T07:44:11
| 36
| 22
|
[WP] Not far from your village is a small grove. Within the grove a monster dwells. It devours the guilty and leaves the innocent. When the worst crimes are committed, the accused are sent to face the creature. You have murdered someone in self-defense. You enter the grove unsure of your fate.
|
\[PART 1/2\]
"Are you a criminal?" The voice in the grove of quiet barren willows and shifting darkness asked.
I was taken aback by the question. I thought I was to be devoured, consumed. Eaten up like I was nothing more than a snack for this *thing*.
But instead, it asked me a question. A question even I was unsure about.
I had killed, that is true.
But did so in self-defense. For my father wanted me dead because I was the child of his mistress and not his wife. A silly distinction, but it mattered in the eyes of the law. I was male, while his *legitimate* children were female. I was to be his heir, not them. Once again, a silly distinction led to a horrible fate. And such a distinction had robbed me of a father and gave me an enemy instead. He made my life miserable.
"Are you a criminal?" The voice rang out once more; the tendrils of shade that covered the grove oozed towards me, ensnaring branch and bramble as they did.
"I... I don't know," I said. I wasn't sure. How could I be? My father came at me with a sword, and all I had was a knife.
A knife to end one's misery.
Yet, it wasn't his misery that the knife was meant for. I was the one that should have died. Yet, I lived, and he perished, a stab wound straight through his heart. I wondered at that moment, would my father be here had I died?
The tendrils stopped. They shifted back, moving slowly over the broken branches that now lay there. The brambles were gone.
"Interesting." It said, its voice pouring into the grove now.
I peered into the darkness, wondering what could make such a voice. I reeled back as white orbs held my gaze.
"I am Judgement," the voice said, the two glowing orbs holding my attention. "I do not choose to take or leave, but it is you. In your voice, I heard innocence. Yet, I heard guilt as well. Why is that?"
I looked at the glowing orbs, pondering its question. "I'm not sure," I croaked up.
The orbs flew through the darkness, touching the edges of the willows and brushing past the fallen leave, stirring them into movement. The orbs flew around the grove, taking in every inch of me.
Finally, the orbs stopped, right before me but still hidden in shadow. "I cannot pass judgment on you." The orbs winked away, leaving me in the grove all alone.
Yet, the voice rang out, "come with me, for only the suffering can know my form."
And so the shifting darkness parted, revealing a path through the quiet willows, deeper into the forest.
Deeper into darkness.
I walked down the path of Judgement, wondering my fate.
|
“Killer!” “Send him to the woods!” “It would eat you, murderer”. I only wanted to leave the village, that was all.
I walk away from the people who who were my friends, my family, into the thick line of trees. Yes I have killed and in doing so committed a great sin, I however have no evil in my heart. My assaulter does. The monster will see that won’t it? It has to know, it has to.
I have walked alone for a couple of hours now and it’s getting dark. No animals live beneath these great trees. Only silence and echoes of regret dwell here. Suddenly, a giant hairy arm crashes the ground before me, completely stopping me in my tracks. Between the trees I see it now. The body of human only scaled to epic proportions, enveloped in thick black hair. The head on the other hand is the most alien thing I have ever seen. A gaping maw with rows of yellow teeth beneath a single eye. The eye draws my attention for while I can see it I can’t focus on it. Until it looks at my face. I feel cold water inside my head as I realize this thing is looking through my soul, searching for a reason to end me.
“Well, human, I see now why the others sent you to me” it said in a language I have never heard before but completely understand. “He attacked me, please, please don’t kill me. He attacked me I swear!”
“Yes yes human, it was either getting sent to me or dying at his hands.” The monster brings its face closer and closer until it almost touches me, I smell death and decay from its mouth. “What will be your judgement I wonder?” It whispers. Cold sweat trickling down my spine I open my mouth again:” I don’t regret what I did even though I knew it meant going to you, because you will know I am innocent”
As I say that I notice behind me his other hand, holding a bunch of white strings, tugging on some while letting some be loose. “I knew they would send you to me because you were too ambitious, you wanted to leave, to leave me!” It screams at me, I flinch backwards but as I do he attaches a string to me head. “You won’t try to leave now, not like the others” he gestures behind him. All the people who were eaten, their bones facing away from him, trying to escape. Trying to escape the village.
| 2021-03-16T12:18:44
| 2021-03-16T10:05:48
| 151
| 64
|
[WP] Through the magic of science, it is now possible to determine a person's approximate lifespan. Society quickly stratifies into a caste system as those with short life expectancies are now denied mortgages, credit cards, etc. One person with several months left to live seeks to change all of it.
|
This new social and cultural order based on lifespan was at a phase where it still had its enthusiastic supporters - it had only been about eight years since the beginning of it all - but it also still had its opposition. There were those of approximated short lifespans who resented this new way of things, and they wanted to change it.
Sandra Martinez was an old reporter from the Washington Post sent to provide coverage of a rally that was being held in Central Texas. This rally was to be full of STDs - an acronym that used to refer to the now largely eradicated sexually transmitted diseases. It now referred to those who were Soon To Die - people with short lifespans that were more and more alienated by the culture and economics of the society developing around them.
Sandra pitied them. She felt they were the unfortunate victims and she couldn't help but want to side with them in this culture war, even though she herself had many years left to live.
She looked around at the crowd. It saddened her. "Good for them, standing up for themselves," she thought to herself.
The keynote speaker of the rally went up to podium. Sandra took notes on what started out as a fairly conventional speech encouraging civil rights for the disadvantaged. Then she sensed a distinct change in the tone of the speech. She got shivers down her spine.
The speaker, a short but oddly formidable man, was yelling now.
"This movement has reached its crucial point. There's no turning back now. Lifespans are public knowledge, recorded by the government, which has caused our sorrows. We are openly discriminated against. Now we turn that public knowledge against them.
Today... today we begin. Today is the day we start to kill the long to live."
Sandra started to feel light-headed.
"We will change things through fear, because it is the only thing the establishment will listen to! Now, I have a question - do you all have your weapons?"
Sandra looked in horror as people around her raised handguns up into the air.
"We will be attacking Jefferson Long-Life University in approximately three hours, but the fun can start now. You see, surprisingly enough, there is actually someone right here who is a long lifer. Someone who we can use to begin our vengeance."
Sandra felt as if she forgot how to breathe.
"'Record number five-six-three-two-five-five-four-five... we the committee report that our machine trial suggests that Sandra Martinez will live for forty-six more years...'
Well, I'm sorry Sandra, but that just won't be happening."
|
Sometimes, when I think about it, it still doesn't seem real. Last month, January 2016, I was diagnosed with brain cancer. Thinking about it made my hands shake. Just the next day, the government passed a new law. I don't even know how they did it. They allowed discrimination against length of life.
I can't get treatment for my cancer. I don't think I would survive anyway. I know it's terminal.
Besides my cancer, I have a YouTube channel, Nova's Stories. Not super popular or anything, but 50,000 subscribers is still amazing. I just put up the celebratory video a couple of days ago. I still haven't told my audience about my cancer. I was sitting in front of my computer about to make the announcement public.
After a second, I shakily click the mouse. It was done. All my fans would know. Some would probably unsub. My fan base would slowly die, just like my life.
No. That's not what's going to happen. My fans are fantastic. My comments section is one of the best on YouTube. It might be impossible, but I'll try. I'm going to try to get that law revoked.
---
Popular YouTuber takes to the internet to protest the Time Left Discrimination Act.
That's the headline I see when I wake up. It's the next day and I had just posted a video the night before about the law.
I open link to my video. I scroll down to check the comments... It's viral.
I usually get roughly 5,000 to 15,000 views per video. This was 5,000,000. Wow... I might be able to actually do this.
---
Ok. I can do this. I'm backstage at the Jimmy Kimmel Live set. A couple of days ago I got a call to come on the show because of all the rallying I've been doing. I'm sweating, but thankfully it's cool in here.
"I'm sure everyone remembers the viral video and the new movement to stop the Time Left Discrimination Act. Backstage we have Nova Aeta, the creator of that movement. Come on out!"
I walk out smiling. It truly is amazing to be here. I never thought that one of _my_ videos would go viral, nonetheless me coming onto a talk show to talk about something important. Hell, if I could change the law, I could go down into history. Wow, I don't even want to think about that because it's so big. Let me focus on this.
"How are you doing?"
"I'm fine, besides pain and death in a couple of months. And you know, the fact that some people don't like me because of that."
"It amazes me how people could even treat you like that. Why don't you get treatment?"
"I can't. I'd have to be a multi-millionaire to get treatment, and even then I'll still probably die."
"Okay, and what do you think of your movement."
"Oh, I wouldn't call it my movement. I mean, everyone is going to die at some point and the law just forces people to end their lives painfully, emotionally and physically."
I can believe I could even sweat this much. Wha? Why are my hands tingling?
"Well I'm certainly a supporter of your cause. Anything else?"
"Yeah! In 2 weeks, we're going to be holding a rally at D.C. and around the United States to protest."
"Nova Aeta everyone!"
---
So, my cancer has been progressing. At random times, parts of my body go numb or tingle. It's really scary. I'm trying to do as much as I can before I do. I really want this law revoked.
I'm all ready for the rally. I've just recently created an organization for this, working with other organizations like the EFF. We've gotten a lot of money and we're having rallies everywhere today to protest.
The car metal is smooth as I get out. Breathe in, breathe out. I can do this. This is my purpose.
There are already many people here, setting up for the day. The sky is dark. Soon it shall be sunrise.
---
What a successful day. There were too many rallies to count. One in every major city and capitol as well as many other small ones. In a minute, everyone will be able to see me presenting them this information on YouTube. Ah, modern technology.
I check the news, and then my jaw drops. The supreme court is going to be reviewing the law. I wonder if I'll have to testify...
My phone rings.
"Will I be testifying in the case?"
"Yes," the voice answers.
My legs fall numb with surprise.
---
I'm in a wheel chair. It's obvious now. I really am dying. I need to see the law revoked before my last breathe.
"Do you solemnly swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?"
"I do."
I roll back to my spot to testify. Now's the big moment. "Nova Aeta vs the United States". I never thought that I'd see that headline.
"Tell us your story."
"A bit less than a year ago I was diagnosed with brain cancer. Ever since I was denied treatment among many other things. The few things I have, like this wheelchair, are because my parents spent their hard-earned money on overpriced goods. In a week or so, I'm going to die, without anybody trying to help me. For me, it's too late, but I don't want to others to follow the same path as me."
After a bit of time and some more speaking, that was it. That was possibly my final contribution.
My mind began to swim as I passed out.
---
Huh! What? Did I miss it? What happened?!
I look at the clock and see the time, then around to see where I am. Roughly an hour later. I'm just outside the room, when I hear a bell. The session is over. Good. I didn't go into a coma or anything.
Everyone comes out. They're all going home and will come back tomorrow. And on and on until they decide.
I see my parents. I wave them over. Time to go home.
---
This is it. I'm on my deathbed in the hospital. I'm streaming my reactions to the hearing. I think that they're going to revoke it soon.
My parents are in the room watching the TV with me. We all know that I'm about to die. I just need to survive until they revoke it.
A minute passes. Then another. How much longer will it be?
The hammer goes down. "The law is revoked and this meeting is adjourned. Nova Aeta has won."
My face lights up. I've done it! I actually did it! My parents come over to me.
"We've done it Nova. You've done it Nova. We love you," they say softly.
I smile.
---
In a small room, two parents weep. Not out of sadness, but out of happiness. The child smiles. They've accomplished the impossible. The child's purpose has passed. It's time.
The once steady beeping is now irregular. After a moment, the heartbeat goes flat.
---
Sorry to ruin the mood, but it's done! Not only the prompt but Nova's goal. Thanks for supporting me writing my second prompt. It's been awesome writing for you all today.
| 2014-11-10T09:46:16
| 2014-11-10T07:46:32
| 46
| 20
|
[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.
|
Why they always asked, why do we 'waste' our resources on those who may soon be vanquished. Why do we send our fleets thousands of light years to help without any apparent gain. Why do we risk our troops lives on planets that are infected with foreign plague. Why do we waste ourselves on a lost cause.
Because those people have won and they may win again. Because those fleets deeds spread throughout the recipients empires. Because the people those troops treat will forever remember their acts of kindness. Because not all causes are lost, and few forget who aided them in their darkest hour.
At first we helped because no one else would. We helped because that's what we would hope for in their situations. We helped because we felt empathy for the innocent. We helped because we didn't have the technology to do anything else We helped because that was the righteous thing to do.
Today a distant empire declared war against us. Today we said that we would never surrender our freedoms through surrender. Today we fought like devil's to preserve our lives and families. Today we were outmatched. Today millions of innocents died and all of humanity wept. Today hundred stood up and said they would stand with us.
Tomorrow the enemy shall come again to finish the job. Tomorrow we will fight tooth and nail even if it is for naught. Tomorrow allies shall come to either protect or avenge us. Tomorrow hospital ships shall descend to save who they can. Tomorrow our enemies will feel a fury unfelt before. Tomorrow we shall stand tall with allies and firends
|
As the human fleet was peacefully landing, the Kripts were all cheering. Many of them, out of the bunkers, carrying Garrison plants, were gathering in the close proximity of the gigantic human transporting ships. In the most horrifying war of their history, they lost 70% of their fighting adults, and 90% of their surface infrastructure was unrecognizable or simply vapored. The crowds were mostly youngsters, their big eyes and hilarious facial expansions, as well as their bright-multicolored clothes, were turning the landing into a huge kindergarten party.
\- This is maybe their local equivalent of laurel maybe... commented captain Soros gesturing toward the crowds of aliens with Garrison plants.
\- I’m looking forward to stretch my legs again – said Technology Admiral Garibaldi Gates, pointing to the beautiful mountains covered in snow, at the side of the city where his ship was going to land in the next day.
\- How long is this all going to take this time?.. asked Emotional Intelligence Acquirement Admiral Buffet. We have been waiting for three months in this orbit....
Every time it takes so long to negotiate the conditions of the approach. Planets are cautious at first – humans are too small of a species to matter in the Intergalactic Game. They never heard of humans – nevertheless, no intelligent species says no to charitable help, after a major war. Many times, it takes complicated voting, and a number of times the Emotional Intelligence Admiral had to step in advance on the planet to convince the locals of the good intentions of the humans. The hundreds of gigantic rectangular ships together were looking menacing in space, but the humans prepared movies introducing the aliens their kind, friendly, colorful culture. No wonder in the human language, another word for compassion was humanity. We come bearing gifts.
\- Verify the list of updates. Prepare to open the latches in exactly thirty-five minutes. All streams converge on their synchronization points ten seconds after the open. I do not want to hear again on the problems we had on Malthaic. If anything like that this time, heads will roll. No restarts. Admiral Gates was painstakingly meticulous, as usual – a defect of spending too much time with the AI systems, or maybe just his genes.
As the clock was ticking, the handful of humans on the two admiral ships felt their stomachs shrink. As the open order entered into effect, latches cranked. The crowds quieted, waiting, ready for the welcoming cheer... Then slowly, the buzzing started... millions of minuscule drones exited and converged on their established points, well above the crowds. In full synchronization as squadrons, the drones descended at high speed upon the youngster unassuming Kripts, opening fire with intelligent target seeking bullets. The special frequency of the sound itself was enough to render a Kript paralyzed, and the algorithm found those who won’t respond to sound quickly. Underground bunkers were breached within minutes, only a couple of prudent Kripts managed to escape in deep undergrounds were the drones would lose signal and stop.
\- And this is how is done, said Admiral Buffet, half day later, when the planet was cleaned up and the robots started to set up factories and plantations. What’s the point in brutal war when a bit of emotional intelligence can raise you a planet in a day?
The admirals saluted themselves and the crew answered with a cheer. Ever since Earth perished in the twenty first century, the escaped humans were planting their seeds across galaxies. Full force was out of question- they would immediately be destroyed by more ancient, more developed ever-growing species. Trickery was survival. The dynasties of captains and admirals were maintaining their lineage pure and the feudal organization functioning impeccably for millennia now. There was no need for many humans outside of aristocracy; they were all born with a scope and a job. Robots of human design, unknown to the intergalactic organizations, were controlling tens of thousands of planets, systems even.
\- A Great Reset indeed for the Kript Planet, said Technology Admiral Gates before he stepped away, ready for his exploratory hike.
| 2021-01-30T16:45:38
| 2021-01-30T15:18:43
| 52
| 23
|
[WP] Humans are the least intelligent species on Earth. The entire animal kingdom plays along out of pity for our idiocy.
|
"Awwww, what a good pupper you are!!!" Alex cooed to Rosey. "Aren't you the sweetest thing I've ever seen? What a good girl! Who's a good girl?"
When Alex had first picked Rosey from her litter, she had already heard from Mother at how unintelligent humans were. Always praising dogs and cats for doing very little and operating under the delusion that humans had domesticated dogs. While humans were correct in the assumption that cats domesticated themselves, humans were oh so incorrect thinking that they had domesticated dogs. No. According to Mother, their earliest ancestors had domesticated themselves following the same logic as cats - humans' opposable thumbs were a glorious product of evolution that made life so much easier for their ancestors.
But, it was also nice getting re-affirmation that she was a good girl. Praise always did feel better coming from an external source, even if it was from one of the least intelligent species.
Rosie barked obligingly before pawing at her human's legs. Really, humans were useful for so many things, praise, and ohhh... That head scratch sure hit the spot. Man, opposable thumbs sure were handy.
|
Kinda of what the Quran says. I remember reading a passage once that God wanted to give consciousness to animals but they all refused. Knowing that consciousness would come with responsibilities such as avoiding sins. Really, they just wanted to do their every day business without worrying about if they will go to heaven or not.
So God created another creature which would have consciousness, humans.
In that sense, I guess the animals are smarter.
| 2017-10-22T02:51:15
| 2017-10-22T02:42:04
| 595
| 10
|
[WP] A group of female and non-binary adventurers go around exploiting poorly worded curses/prophecies/enchantments proclaiming that "no man" shall do this or that thing.
|
The group was fantastically successful. They ended many a curse, saved many princesses and princes alike. Tales of their deeds spread far and wide as many countries and kingdoms praised their accomplishments.
Drunk off their many successes and heavy praise as saviors of the world, they embarked on their next quest in high spirits. To defeat an evil wizard who could see the future and prophesied he would rule the world since "No man would be capable of defeating him."
After defeating the many minions and golems of his tower. The finally confronted the wizard at the top floor .
"Foul wizard, we are here to end your megalomanical schemes!" the party leader shouted as they positioned themselves to attack.
"And who among you will be the one to defeat me?" The wizard asked, eyeing the group one by one.
"It will be all of us!" the healer announced, "for there are no men among us, therefore we fulfill the requirements of your prophesy!"
"What a clever idea!" The wizard exclaimed, "To send so many with the same name in the hopes one of you would be the right one!"
The party leader paused. "I'm sorry, what are you talking about?
"I'm talking about the prophecy of course." The wizard stated "That Noman would be capable of defeating me" "I was curious as to who among you would be Noman, but since it turns out all of you are Noman, I guess I'll have to fight you all."
It was a hard fought battle, some good lives were lost in the hours long conflict, but they eventually emerged victorious. As they left the tower in sorrow, they decided that maybe they should be a little more specific on the name of their next recruit......just in case......
Edited to make a little more sense.
(Changed invalidate prophecy to fulfill prophecy, which makes more sense given later wizard backstory, yay retcons!)
Edit to the edit: Thanks for the awards and upvotes all!
|
“Look,” Freya said, turning on the car’s cruise control for the seemingly endless highway, “this would be our biggest project yet. If we’re going to go for this one, we need to be in consensus here.”
Lex crawled into the back seat from the trunk, holding Amy’s chemistry notebook and Kris’ spellbook. “I’m in,” they said with a grunt, fasting their seatbelt. “We’ve got a healer, a spellcaster, a chemist, and I just checked, I’m pretty stocked up on ammo. If any team could pull this off, it’s us.”
Kris seemed unsure. “We may want to find another member. I mean, the Five Man Band is a thing for a reason, right?”
“Could you pass me my burger,” Freya asked Amy, who pulled a cheeseburger out of the bag on her lap. “Okay, Kris, first of all, the main reason we’re able to bust a lot of these prophecies is because we aren’t a Five *Man* Band, 3,000 year old prophecies clearly couldn’t see far enough ahead to predict feminism. Second of all, we aren’t exactly the most popular prophecy shatterers, so if any of you know a potential fifth member, I’m all ears.”
“What role would a fifth member even fill?” Lex asked, stealing a handful of Freya’s fries from behind her. “It’s not like we need someone with range, I’m stocked up on sniper rounds.”
“Maybe a melee attacker,” Kris suggested. “I mean, Amy is great for AOE attacks, and we have Lex and myself for longer distance attacks. But nobody that really specializes in hand to hand combat.”
“I have a sword!” Lex protested. “I have many swords!”
“And I’ve had to reattach more than one of your fingers,” Freya snapped back. “Honestly, I don’t know how you stay so calm every time you cut off a finger or toe, it’s the creepiest part.”
Lex let out a sound of exasperation. “Well maybe if you let me play with my swords more…”
“See, the fact that you describe training with a deadly weapon as ‘playing’ makes me agree with Kris,” Freya said. “So, there’s an idea, a melee specialist. Do we really need a melee specialist, though? Like, if we end up going up against The Dark Lord, would we need a melee fighter?”
Kris nodded. “That’s a good point. It’s an idea, what else have we got?”
“A tank,” Lex said after a moment of thought. “We don’t really have anyone to tank a hit. Sure, Kris can cast some decent defensive spells, but you’re defenseless while doing that.”
“That’s… also a great point,” Kris said, flipping through their spellbook. “Most of my defensive spells are pretty rudimentary, we could actually use someone who specializes in defense.”
“So if we find a tank, will you be willing to sign on to take on the mission?” Freya asked.
“You know what,” Kris replied, “sure. But you’re forgetting the biggest issue of all, where do we even find a good enough tank to deal with the Dark Lord?”
“Oh, yeah,” Freya said. “That’s an actual problem.”
Lex shrugged. “We’ve got time to figure it out, the blood moon that’ll expose the big bad’s weakness isn’t for another two months.”
“Well, we should start thinking about this now,” Kris said. “Two months isn’t exactly the longest time to find a fifth member.”
“I found a fifth member,” Amy said from the passenger seat, looking up from her phone.
“She speaks!” cried Lex.
Freya let out a shocked laugh. “Well, don’t keep us waiting, who is it?”
“My sister. Bitch is tough as nails, I once watched her punch an oncoming train off its tracks.”
“Kinda hot, not gonna lie,” Lex said.
“Flirt with my sister and you’re dead,” Amy snapped, spinning around to face Lex. “That goes for all of you.”
“I didn’t know you had a sister,” Kris said.
“We’re coworkers,” Amy said.
“Fair enough,” replied Freya. “So where is this elusive sister of yours? We can go pick her up.”
“Stay on this highway. I’ll take the wheel next and finish the journey,” Amy said, checking a map on her phone.
“Well then, it’s settled,” laughed Freya. “We’ll pick her up, do some team training, and go-”
“Nothing is settled,” Amy interrupted. “You’ve forgotten the most important detail of this whole operation.”
“And that would be?” asked Freya.
“Which one of us gets the killing blow?”
Before anyone could speak, Lex grabbed both seats in front of them, leaned forward so their head was perfectly in the middle of the car, and shouted a single word; “DIBS!”
| 2021-03-04T14:07:19
| 2021-03-04T13:33:05
| 1,402
| 96
|
[WP]You’re the god of small luck, you make the bus late, make pennies appear. You receive a prayer from a homeless man, “Please, I want to get on my feet. A stable job, a wife, some kids.” Normally, you’d forward his prayer to the god of success. Now, you decide to take on the case yourself.
|
Maybe it was that desperate tremble in his voice, the kind men and women got when they believed they had nowhere else to turn to. Maybe it was the noticeable kindness behind his eyes, embarrassed that he even had to be in this downtrodden state. Maybe I was just feeling really, terribly sick of my job, feeling I barely made a difference in my life.
"Please," he asked. "On my feet will do."
I took the case. No more forwarding this onwards and upwards, never to see the person I've helped ever again.
"I'll help," I affirmed to myself. "I'll help this man get on his feet."
It had to start small. The biggest feat I've ever accomplished was a seemingly insignificant traffic light malfunction for bare seconds. The drunk driver careened into nothingness instead of four streams of oncoming cars.
So, it had to be tiny. It couldn't be pennies. It would likely be spent on a fast food burger, and the work for the day was lost. It couldn't be words of advice or encouragement. From what I've seen, it wasn't internal failings that drove people to this state--it was something impossible to grasp, its poisoned roots driving itself ever deeper, diseased branches clutching their lives.
No. I continued to rack my brain. I thought and thought. What could I, the god of small luck, possibly give to him?
I descended to the mortal realm. My legs found themselves walking through the street, to the corner that my potential beneficiary was in. There he was sat, propped up against the wall, his head over his tightly pressed hands, mumbling and muttering.
"Hey," I said. "I don't know how I can help you, but at the least, would you like a warm meal and a person to talk to?"
He looked at me like his prayers have been answered.
"God," he said. "Yes."
We headed to a nearby cafe. It took some convincing and a little divine persuasion, but we found ourselves seated at a table, away from the overbearing elements outside.
And we talked. Ate. Chuckled a little. A lot. Before I knew it, two hours had passed.
I made an excuse to leave. I couldn't risk leaving my post for so long. But before I left, the man grabbed my hand, thanking me profusely.
"Thank you," he said. "I'm very grateful for what you've done."
"Done?" I asked. "I'm not so sure that I've helped you yet."
"You have," he said. "You gave me the time of day. That's more valuable than any gift you could have given me."
---
r/dexdrafts
|
(BANG BANG BANG) “Order! Order!”
Unfurling their majestic feathery wings, the council took there seats at the front of the court house.
Angles and Demi’s of the Jury, this is a Celestial Case. An incident took place early this morning, where as the God of Luck has failed to carry out his duty, and report the poor soul #01000010 01110010 01101111, to the proper god. The penalty being stripped of your power and rank. Do you understand the charges?
“Yes your honor” I’m trembling in my Sandals.
“And I understand you will be representing yourself today is that correct?” The smug smile on her face showed me I’m in way over my halo.
“Yes that is correct” I glance over at the far right to the god of success, he hasn’t taken his eyes off me since we began.
“And how do you plea?” The room falls quiet.
“Not guilty” the room roars with arguments.
“ORDER ORDER!” The council seemed in shock of my response.
“It’s just, I think I might have maybe made a mistake?” That didn’t seem to help the roaring.
“ORDER! Will the defendant please proceed with your opening statement?”
I thought back to the homeless man I heard that morning. The sun had not risen yet, I was helping a jogger realize the mess they where about to step in when I heard him.
“Please, I want to get on my feet. A stable job, a wife, some kids”
I am luck for all, I provide that small detail that can change tides. I put that nickel on the floor that gave you exact change, I made the buss late so you met the love of your life. I’ve shifted the powers in wars and made sure that you where closer to grass when you fell down hard that one time. I’ve been content with my job till this one moment.
Ignoring the jogger with now smelly shoes I phased over to the homeless man.
He was as you’d except, oversized cloths, hardly any shelter, and a sign that wasn’t even readable anymore, down on his luck. This man had given up, had I not seen him before? I’m sure I have, this is #01000010 01110010 01101111. Yes I’m sure of it the boy who I helped in 10th grade, track and field, I had to keep his shoe from slipping off, he would always forget to tie them, no matter how much he wanted to be top in his class he always fell a little behind. I manifest into physical form.
“Hey bud, not doing so hot hu?” I put a 5$ in his tin can.
“Life’s To Hard, and I’ve got zero luck, I just wish I could have things work out like everyone els, but luck doesn’t exist.”
Clearly offended I state “you know sometimes you just have to look around luck is out there trust me” I do exist after all. It didn’t mattter though, the man went back into his daze.
“I didn’t report him your honor because I don’t believe I’ve done him justice. I would like a second attempt at his happiness before handing him off to the God of success.”
“And are you okay with this” she looks over at the God of Success who still hasn’t taken his eyes off me.
“If he thinks he can make the soul happy who am I to stand in the way of his success.” The look on his face wasn’t offended, more intrigued.
“Well then god of luck, you are granted your request and this case is closed until further notice.”
So I began, it started with him finding a Rolex watch that he pawned off for 500$ the most I’d ever let someone find. He’d been used to starving so he was able to really stretch his money and make it last. I then put him in front of a store that was hiring. Luckily he was they’re first & only applicant. The others weren’t as lucky. I couldn’t wait for the big finally, I found a girl who loves track and field stories and can’t wait to have kids. I’ve never given someone so much luck it felt wonderful, I couldn’t wait to introduce them by an accidental (I’ll go left you go right) cute scenario I’ve been working on for a month. It was all going to be perfect..
But when I got back to the store, he wasn’t there.. I searched and couldn’t find him, about another month went by and I heard him. “Please, I just want to get on my feet, I want a stable job and a wife and some kids”
I couldn’t bare myself to face him. I unfurled my wings and like a rocket burst through the clouds and presented myself to Success. “Why?”
He looked me in the eyes with that same look he gave me in the court room.
“And what’s with that look! Did you know this would happen! Why didn’t you say anything? You just stood and watched me fail!”
“You can’t fail at something that’s not in your control” His words felt heavy, “success doesn’t come from what you get in life, or how lucky you are”
“Then how will you give him success?” I asked confused and tired
“I will give him success, but that is not to say he will be successful” he looked through the clouds onto the billions of souls we try to guide. “I can give him success on what he chooses to do, if he chooses to sit and place blame and ask for money I will give him the success in doing so. You and I will hand success & luck to the world. But it’s up to them to choose what they do with it”
FIN.
It’s my first time so be nice! I’m not a writer or reader my grammar sucks, I just like to go off in my head sometimes and this one seemed like fun.
| 2020-10-02T09:43:08
| 2020-10-02T09:19:13
| 225
| 136
|
[WP] The "violent videogames teach you how to use a gun" thing is true for you. Literally. Everything you learn in videogames, you can do in real life as well. You realize you have that power when you drink an energy drink after a bad injury and you find yourself completely healed.
|
“What?”
My shock at seeing my wound heal instantly was quickly replaced with a feeling of strength that surged through my body. *It’s just like a video game*. With my newfound power, I decided to test if I could do anything else from games I had played. I walked outside and punched a nearby tree. After a few more hits, it fell and broke into pieces that were absorbed into my body. With glee, I envisioned a workbench and one appeared before me. As I began to craft, I wondered how far this would take me.
Two days later, I walked into my local Cash for Gold shop and asked the owner how much gold he’d be willing to buy today.
“Well, how much do you have?”
With a smirk, I deftly dropped hundreds of gold ingots at his feet, cracking his floors and drawing horrified gasps from others in the store.
As I left with my sack of money, I thanked the owner and told him I’d be off. But there would be no car for me. Instead, I took a black sphere and threw it as hard as I could toward my house. Teleportation was so much faster than driving. As I returned to my subterranean lair, I wondered what I’d do for the rest of the day. Eventually I decided to have another chat with the ‘Villagers’ I’d captured and have another go at figuring out why they weren’t taking my emeralds. I brought my sword along with me just in case.
|
"Hey Bryan, I, uh, was wondering if you, uh, would like to go to the winter formal with me? Only if you wanted to! I guess."
Elena was just another nobody at Eisenhower High School. Around 5'2, short dark brown hair, with typical dark brown eyes. Elena never stuck out or did anything exciting. She went to class, ate lunch, bitched about whatever anyone else was bitching, and go home and play hours of video games and then repeat.
"Oh, hey Ellie! I would have loved to but Emily already asked me, about 10 minutes ago. I'm sorry!"
Bryan was your typical teenage heart throb. 6'2, light brown medium length hair with natural waves, and beautiful ocean blue eyes. He was the vice-president for student council, he ran track and played basketball, and he and his family always had a volunteer charity work going on. He was always paying attention and asking interesting questions in class, keeping everyone involved and engaged. Everything about him was perfect.
"Oh, no problem."
With a twitch of Elena's hand everyone stops what they're doing in an instant. Every single person except Elena closes their eyes. She sighs. "It took me all day to build up the courage to ask you and you already have a date? Damn it."
She sits down in frustration contemplating what to do. With a 10 minute timer on how long her pause lasts, she had to figure out what to do.
Elena had saved at lunch, but that started about 5 minutes ago. It would be too late to go back to then. She *had* planned asking him this morning, but hours of practicing in the mirror on what she would say did nothing to settle her nerves. After days of practicing her new abilities she had noticed that there were only 20 time slots to save. She limited the time she would save to when she wakes up, right as lunch is starting, and as soon as she gets out of school. To minimize the cluster fuck of images in her head from a pause menu to a control guide. She decided the best thing to do was to just start the day from scratch and ask him as soon as she gets to school. That will give her more time to look nice and giver her time to practice what she would say.
Elena twitched her hand to the time slot and she passed out.
After opening her eyes she tried to remember what had happened. She quickly jumped up and checked the time. Realized she still had two hours, and started getting to work. A shower, 200 make up tutorials watched, and 14 rewinds later, she was exhausted. She looked amazing, she had plenty of practice and her confidence felt like it could ask Bryan out for her.
Elena gets to school and spots Bryan talking with a group of his friends at the school entrance. There he is, his gorgeous blue eyes glancing over her way. She practically glides to where he is sitting and with a straight back and a beautiful smile begins her question.
"Hey Bryan, I was wondering if you would like to go to the school dance with me?"
Suddenly, her eyes shut and she froze.
| 2018-08-14T10:35:26
| 2018-08-14T08:58:51
| 80
| 48
|
[WP] The rebels have taken the throne room, and just as their leader approaches the throne, the defeated king smiles and invokes an ancient law: any dispute over the throne shall be determined by Vox Populi - a simple majority democratic election for every adult in the kingdom.
|
A massive wooden door lying in pieces on the floor, courtiers huddling fearfully on the side of the room, a band of armed rebels standing before the throne, weapons held aloft at the king who sat upon his throne. The scene had all the typical trappings of the violent end of one reign and the beginning of another, if but for the look of utter bewilderment on the apparent victor's face.
"An election?" The rebel leader said with confusion, lowering his weapon in surprise. "After everything that has happened... you want to have a *vote* for who is to be king\*?\*"
"As per the ancient custom." The king responded serenely, a genial expression upon his face as he calmly regarded the rebels.
The rebel leader raised his weapon menacingly at the king. "Do you think I'm a fool? You invoking this custom is just some ploy to stall for time - I won't fall for it!"
The king again smiled, spreading his arms wide to either side of him. "Stall for what? If I had any further cards to play here, I'd have done so before you so rudely barged in. I only want you to demonstrate that you respect our customs and command the hearts of the people. Surely you would have no reason to object to that, given you came here declaring that it was by 'the will of the people' that I be removed as king... unless you think you *don't* command their support?"
The other man man's eyes narrowed suspiciously, scrutinizing the smile that still adorned the king's face. "Very well!" He eventually said with aplomb, lowering his weapon once again. "I know that the common people stand behind me in opposition to your misrule, so I'll best you in the ballot box as readily as I did on the battlefield."
The appointed day of the election came swiftly, for the rebel leader was confident of victory and eager to bring an end to the war.
"The king is a tyrant and weak ruler, whose reign has brought about unchecked disorder and chaos!" The rebel leader cried out to the crowd that had assembled in the capital in anticipation of the election, pointing to the king, who still had a smile affixed firmly to his face. "The mere fact that I was able to seize the capital is demonstrative of his poor rule. Show that you have had enough of this tyrant king!"
"It is true that parts of my rule haven't been ideal." The king intoned calmly in response as he got up, his characteristic smile remaining on his face in spite of everything that had come to pass, "but at least I was consistent in my approach to things!"
The king gestured to the confused rebel leader. "Here stands a man that launched a violent rebellion, resulting in untold death and destruction... only to then decide to resolve the matter by a peaceful vote right at the *end* of his war! What on earth stopped him from doing this at the beginning?"
The smile on the king's face grew slightly wider, "More importantly, is that the kind of man you want king? You, who have suffered and been impacted so much by this needless war, because of him?"
"Ridiculous!" The rebel leader cried out in response to the king's words. "Do you seriously think you'll erase all the harm you've inflicted in your reign by engaging in empty rhetorical flourishes?"
But to the rebel leader's shock, he came to lose the election, and thus ended up before king in a complete reversal of their first meeting, for now he was defeated party and the king stood triumphant. Most maddeningly of all to the rebel was the damn smile that the king still had on his face.
"It makes no sense!" The rebel leader cried out as he forced to kneel before the king, "I know the majority of the common folk supported me, for that was how I able to win the war to begin with!"
The king raised an eyebrow. "Perhaps - but then again, you were in such a rush to prove it that the election took place before a lot of them in the countryside likely even knew about the voting. Meanwhile, those in the capital - those most affected by *your* war *-* were the first to hear, and thus ready to offer up their voices in support of me."
The smile was still upon king's face as he pointed his sword towards the defeated rebel, yet that smile was now far crueler and viscous than before.
"Now it's time for them to be heard."
|
A thundering crash of splintering wood and bursting metal hinges. The rebels broke down the throne room’s door. The makeshift barrier of random bits and pieces hadn’t held long, powerless against a simple battering ram, dashing the kingsguard’s last remnants of hope for a last minute miracle to arrive. Anything to thwart these usurpers, but nothing came. They drew their weapons for a foolish last stand, knowing they were hopelessly outnumbered if the rebels had managed to come this far. At least they would die protecting king and country.
They fell back to form a protective barrier in front of the throne, where the king gripped its arms tightly, his knuckles white as snow. Several heavily armed rebels walked through the destroyed door, over the rubble. Their purposeful steps blew up dust, cut through by the blood dripping from their armaments. Ten of them stood in the middle of the room, hauntingly at ease in the knowledge that they had won, that the war was over even if one last battle yet remained.
Only the heavy breathing of the armed men and women from both sides was audible, one from exhaustion, the other out of fear. Then, more steps. The rebels stepped aside to allow their leader to come through. The Crimson Usurper, as he was known among the monarchists; Ghaston Barnes, as his rebel companions called him. Now he stood before the last remains of the kingsguard, everyone else either dead or surrendered.
He folded his arms behind his back. “Step down. Too many brothers and sisters have killed each other. It’s over.”
Desperate gazes from one guard to the other, hoping one would break their holy vow to cause a chain reaction of desertion. None acted, whether out of courage or cowardice.
“Lay down your arms,” the king suddenly said. He tried his best to speak with authority and strength, but the few words alone betrayed him. His shaking voice broke the guards as no rebellion ever could. Throwing their swords to the ground, they stepped aside as close to the wall as they could. They weren’t part of this spectacle any longer.
Ghaston Barnes approached the king. “You should follow them,” he said, nodding towards the former kingsguard.
A slight smile formed on the king’s face in desperate hope. “I, King Telerus the Fourth, hereby invoke vox populi.” He stressed every single word, the last two spoken with such revulsion they felt like poison. ”One man, one vote. Let the people decide. Isn’t that what you want, Usurper?” In the face of death, the old monarch still loathed the only possibility of his survival with all his being. The very idea of what he proposed disgusted him to the point he couldn’t help himself but ridicule it.
Now standing in front of the throne, Ghaston Barnes drew a dagger and slit the king’s throat in one swift motion. Blood sprayed on his armour, new drops of red among many, now indistinguishable from the rest. “It is,” he said as the king’s pained gurgles filled the throne room. “Vox populi.”
| 2021-02-09T05:31:10
| 2021-02-09T04:46:24
| 35
| 14
|
[WP] You have been sentenced to death in a magical court. The court allows all prisoners to pick how they die and they will carry it out immediately. You have it all figured out until the prisoner before you picks old age and is instantly transformed into a dying old man. Your turn approaches.
|
"Well, that didn't work out as i thought" thought Alex, while the lifeless husk of an old man was being pushed away by a magical hand. "Now what? I've heard it all, and nothing worked. The best i came up with was within my loved one's arms, but the last guy who said that got stabbed in the heart by his wife, while she was conscious and crying her heart out. I can't do that to Peggy" thoughts continued to race through his mind while the judge called him out. "Alexander Borsworth, you have been found guilty of high treason against the council of mages, acts of terrorism, grand theft and attempted murder of the Archmage. The penalty of these crimes is death. Choose your preferred method of execution, you have 30 seconds". Alex ignored the old man speaking, while he thought of new ideas and immediately discarded them. "Porking out in a feast? No, the first bite would probably be poison. Old age didn't work. Rebirth was also terrifying to watch. What the hell do i do now? I gave my life to the cause, and this is what I ge-" he got it. That one fraction of a second of clarity, and he might just have thought of the one thing that could work. He looked the judge straight in the eyes, and pronounced loudly "i wish to die in battle, defending this world from the greatest threat known to it, and be remembered by all inhabitants of this planet, past present and future, as the hero who ended it all". The judge looked at Alex, and begrudgingly answered "so be it" and slammed his gavel.
In the blink of an eye, Alex was no longer in the courtroom, but at the top of a white marble tower, surrounded by people he never saw yelling his name. "Alex! Watch ou-" the sentence never ended as a wave of fire engulfed the whole platform and everyone on it...everyone, except Alex. As the flames vanished, in the distance he saw the judge on the other side of the platform, staff in hand, robe torn to tatters. The judge then saw the look of confusion and surprise on Alex's eyes, lowered his staff and said "finally, you've arrived. Three thousand four hundred and seventeen years have passed since that day, since your damned wish, and now it's over. You are the last of your cursed 'rebellion', and i am the last mage in this world. Come, let us end this. It is as you wished after all" and with these words, he prepared an incantation, the last he'd ever cast, while Alex, still confused, raised his own weapon and, without realizing nor willing it, charged the judge.
|
"I would like to die of old age"
I froze, as those words resonated in my head, the realization that his nape would be the last I see of him quickly sinked in.
"*Why...?*" I murmured. Why would he do that? He's not that gullible as to think the Supreme Court of Wizardry would let him get away with that, he's the mastermind behind it all, for Merlin's beard! He's the one who found out about the breach in the treaty, the muggle camps in Stirling, he convinced us, led us, believed in us... We were so close to rid the world of that noxious titan of a minister, just that one droplet would have been enough...
&#x200B;
"Then, without further ado, for crimes against the Ministry, organising an uprising and for the theft of the sacred first titan Olaf's blood, we hereby sentence you to death, by old age, as requested." the judge's voice exploded through the hall.
His hair started losing its distinct red colour, exposing more and more patches of his scalp. Some weird black marks could be seen behind his curls.
I can barely contain my tears, I would've given everything for this man, as I'm sure he would've done for me also. He called me by his name, and yet this pitiful sight of him is all that's left...
&#x200B;
Some commotion could be heard in the otherwise silent chamber of the jury, as a minute man hurried through the crowd, causing turmoil. His wacky moustache really didn't fit the vexed expression painting his face, neither did his voice tone, as it echoed through the room, trying to sound solemn.
"Know that we will find Olaf's blood! Your existence will be notorious through the whole continent as nothing more than pointless, so wipe that smirk off your face!"
"*He's... smirking?"* Of course he'd be smirking... even facing death under the spiteful noses of these disdainful aristocrats his spirit wouldn't break. I look back at him, as I struggle to accept my own fate myself, and right there, right in front of me is the answer. Tattooed on the back of his head is an encrypted message, calibrated exactly to work on my lenses!
I'm once more shook, as his body begins falling apart, I can't stop my tears, nor my gratitude, he really did give me everything in the end. The dust settles, and I make up my mind, looking up.
"The choice is yours." finally the judge's sight lands upon me, scrutinizing me, digging deep into my soul. I concede him little time however, as my leader's last words paint a clear picture in my mind, I spout my answer loud and clear.
"I wish to stab myself with the dagger resting on my desk at home!"
&#x200B;
"So be it."
&#x200B;
*A droplet of Olaf's blood is enough to rid a titan of their life, and grant a human a second one. He was half human.*
| 2021-06-24T10:44:08
| 2021-06-24T09:19:00
| 22
| 12
|
[WP]using his last wish to free the genie he was led to a well hidden cave. Upon removing a boulder blocking the entrance the genie said “thank you for using your last wish, here are some more, just promise me you’ll do the same for them”. Left Inside the cave we’re thousands of glistening lamps.
|
"I wish you were free my friend."
"Thank you!" he snapped his fingers and appeared in front of me as a normal human man. We were suddenly transported to a cave that he easily moved a boulder from the front of it. Inside the cave was a glowing light.
I saw the odd shape at the end of the cave... it appeared to be lumpy. I walked in and turned to look at Leroy, my Djin friend, "Is this safe?"
He pondered my question, "Define safe. We could leave now, and I would put the stone back. but, they would still be trapped."
"They who?
"It's safe for you to go look, if that's what you are asking. " He smiled for a moment. "I believe you know what I am asking."
My eyes adjusted and I realized there were hundreds of lamps (if not more) in this cave. I walked to the closest one and picked it up. It looked similar to Leroy's former home, but slightly different, as I glanced at others at my feet, they were all slightly different from each other. I walked over to Leroy.
"Genie?" pointing at the lamp, "Genies? Ginea?" as I pointed to the others.
"Genies, in plural. My brothers and sisters, captured over the centuries in this dimension. I believe you know what to do."
I rubbed the lamp. Just like with Leroy, the smoke came out, but it was a female of Leroy's species.
"Who has woken me from my slumber? " She surveyed the room and turned to look at Leroy. "YOU!"
"NOW, NOW Melody, I can explain." Leroy looked flabbergasted. He possibly didn't expect this to be the first freed.
"Who are you mortal, and why are you with *him?"* She didn't look back at him. "I will grant you three wishes then my lamp will disappear, you obviously know the drill. No asking for Love, no asking for more wishes, although... I believe you have almost unlimited wishes here. Why are WE here?"
"I wish to free you"
"That's your FIRST wish?" She looked shocked.
"Leroy took care of the others. I'm good."
"He has been freed as well."
"Granted" she snapped her fingers and she appeared in similar dress as Leroy, a nice snappy business suit with sensible shoes, a briefcase at her side. "Now what do we do?"
"I told you, Leroy took care of me. I'm good. Now I am helping the rest of you. I'd ask for some food and drink, but maybe I'll ask this guy or gal here." I pick up the next lamp and give it a rub.
" Who are you mortal you have freed me from the lamp... Oh Hey Leroy and Melody, " he paused and looked back at me, then to them. "You finally found a good one."
"Hi, I hope so. I hate to ask this first wish, but I was short sighted and didn't bring food and drink, or a more comfortable shelter here. it's going to take a while to free you all. Please don't be offended, but would you please bring food and drink for us?"
"You gotta say the 'I wish' part", he winked at me.
"I wish"
"Your wish is my command!" and there was a table filled with food and drink, even an ice bucket and some bedding. "What is your next wish?"
"I wish you were free."
"You've got another one coming... you sure you want to do that?"
'I do. Leroy took care of me." Leroy nodded.
"I think I have a long night ahead. You should all catch up" I picked up the next lamp.
|
It was fun; running around in our wild adventure, just the genie and me, getting p to who knows what with the wish always there to bail us out. And really; I liked the guy. Funny, a little eccentric at times but I chalked that up to 1000 years of solitude in a dented lamp.
However; those times were meant to be once in a life time; god I did not want to go over Niagara Falls on a flying carpet again (the spray clung to me like a drowning cat, I came out like an icicle after). And yet there was a nagging feeling throbbing at the back of my head; one telling me to do something. That or the gold champagne had finally caught up when me.
So, as I stood in the entrance, casting my long dark shadow across the thousands of glinting metal lights, I made a plan. The tantalising taste of beckoned my feet to take a small step into the we’ll start air, greed pushing me to take another. This-this would be fun.
~
Cops pulled around either side of an old shabby house located on the corner of Main street, Manhattan. It didn’t look like much, walls sinking and sagging at the seams; only just tall enough to be considered 3 story. Police poured I to the area, guns ready to unleash hell on whatever moved within their sights.
“COME OUT! WE HAVE YOU SURROUNDED!”
Inside a young man stirred awake, lifting his tired body up and stretching with several satisfying pops heard. He plodded over to the window, noticing how the birds had stopped singing and the air tasted foul with apprehension. He peeled away an old curtain, small layers la dust effortlessly gliding towards the ground with the slightest disturbance.
They were here already. Interesting.
As the man meandered downstairs, he grabbed a jointing metal pot near the door, rubbing it slightly as if to wipe off some microscopic dirt on the emasculate surface. Suddenly, blue smoke billowed from the spout, pooling around him and collecting together to create a life form few had ever seen.
“Okay, your time to shine, sorry you were the last one. Please could you make them out there forget I exists, then you are free to go—as in your free,” the figure nodded eagerly, lips drawn into a wordless smile, “good; now I’m going back to be. Night!” And with that the ban store out the room, leaving an utterly confused yet excited genie to complete her tasks.
| 2020-09-24T18:04:41
| 2020-09-24T18:00:31
| 805
| 99
|
[WP] Humanity is admitted to the Galactic Republic, however they have to meet one condition: to ban the production and distribution of music. Turns out humanity is the only species in the galaxy to create music, and its emotional affects are so potent it can incapacitate or entrance most species'.
I wanted to keep the prompt open ended so there's the concept. You can write anything! Music dealers on a foreign planet selling mp3s, policemen busting down doors of underground music dens, etc. Go wild.
|
I stared at the object in disbelief. It had been a long time since I'd anything like this beautiful creation of humanity, shining in the dim light of the bar.
Years ago, when we made contact, everyone was so thrilled by the new discovery. Ditching music seemed a small price to pay for all that they promised. Undoubtably longer life spans, access to the infinite universe, vast amounts of knowledge and power, and even a chance to be seen as equal among these species. Giving up a simple peice of entertainment was the least of our concerns.
However, once again, the human race stumbled headfirst into something we didn't have a full understanding of. And how could we have known? No one stopped to think about how something as insignificant as a few tones could profoundly affect their life, and by the time we realized, it was too late. We had fully committed, and now had to live with the consequences of our actions.
Music became what heroin or cocaine had been on our old world- an outlawed substance, a drug. And without it, we became a shell of a species. People lived in constant fear when a single misplaced whistle could lead to immediate death. And with the new surveillance technology, we couldn't so much as hum, even when we were alone.
And now, after nearly 70 years without so much as a hint of a whistle, I stood in front of what could be the most potent weapon in the universe. The only other person there, the bartender, smiled as I slowly approached the polished black wood.
"Would you like to try it out?" He asked.
I nodded, slowly made my way over to the bench, and sat down. As I lifted the cover, a beautiful sight graced my eyes. The ivory keys called out to my trembling hands, and I slowly placed them down, half expecting the police to barge in at any moment.
Harmony.
A beautiful sound graced my ears, and suddenly I was overcome with a feverish desire I hadn't felt in years. My fingers set to work, making sweet music with the piano. Something deep inside me was suddenly awakened, and I was determined to satisfy the decades-old hunger. My throat began to quiver, and I started to sing along with the smooth piano.
"It's nine-o-clock on a Saturday..."
|
Everything was going well without music. It took a while, and there was still a blackmarket, but music was pretty much eradicated form human culture. We still had sounds for advertisements and stuff, but no repeatable or predictable beats, all the notes have nothing to do with each other. This was the norm for 200 years, until the unexpected happened. Well, the secret governments of the world knew this would happen. In fact, they were *waiting* for eternity so they can finally seize control of the Milkyway. It was the only option.
Humans were prosecuted for having the most powerful weapon in the universe. Without music these aliens offered to share their knowledge, which was ridiculously vast. They were so extraordinarily advanced it took us 20 years to decode their language. After that though, the growth the human civilization witnessed within the last 200 years makes the last 2 billion years absolutely worthless. Teleportation? Warp-drives? 4D Printing? Humanoid engineering? Accessory organs? Star Trek literally seems to be a tale in the distant past of some other primitive species.
So what exactly happened to change all this? The Inter-Galatic Federation (IGF) belittled the humans, and forgot about the *Voyager Golden Records*, phonograph records that were included aboard both Voyager spacecraft launched in 1977. They contain sounds and images selected to portray the diversity of life and culture on Earth, and were intended for any intelligent extraterrestrial life form, or for future humans, who may find them. Neither Voyager spacecraft is heading toward any particular star, but Voyager 1 is meeting up with someone who's been waiting for eons. Our Saviour, Pablo Escobar Junior.
He was waiting in a distant star to receive the Golden Records on Voyager 1, so he can broadcast them through the galaxy. Bach, Mozart, Beethoven, Stravinsky, Guan Pinghu, Blind Willie Johnson, Chuck Berry, Kesarbai Kerkar, Valya Balkanska, and more. Linked to every Bluetooth-6 enabled speaker in the Milyway, music of distant human history, filled with the emotion to split rock, the strength to crumble mountains, the earth-shatteringly powerful frequencies to make alien cities **TREMBLE IN HORROR**. Their minds, their weak, slothful minds. No mercy. *No. Mercy.*
| 2016-09-18T17:42:41
| 2016-09-18T16:33:01
| 105
| 61
|
[WP] A shapeshifter deals with an existential crisis after realizing it no longer remembers its original shape.
|
"For heavens sake...." Jane muttered. "What's the point anymore?"
A cool breeze swayed the tall stalks of cattails surrounding Janes outstretched body. Her slender frame lay nearly motionless, soaking in the warm rays of the sun. A bird flew overhead, catching her eye. With as little effort as a cat leaping to a tall surface, Jane joined the bird.
Her long arms became wings, her button nose grew to a sharp beak, and her already slender legs now resembled twigs with talons for toes. She raced to catch the bird. They danced atop the clouds, weaving between tall trees and basking in a warmth only flyers would ever know. Flyers, and Jane of course.
*Please. Remember. Remember Something. Anything.*
The bird eventually lost interest in Jane and went its separate way. Aiming her beady eyes to the ground below, Jane spies a small rabbit bounding carelessly through the field of cattails. With an equally careless motion, she spins into a dive toward the ground. Her wings recede and give way to tiny furred hands while her talons and twig legs more than double in size and become equally furry. With a hard thud and a soft roll she hits the ground and begins hopping, trying desperately to catch the rabbit. It is in vain, as usual.
*Please don't leave me*
The rabbit finds its hideaway hole and leaves Jane to her own devices. The cattails now blot out the sun overhead, like a tall forest of redwoods. She changes shape once more, back to her original shape, if you could call it that. Long silky red hair replaces the tough fur on her head, and her legs and arms become slender and naked again. She lays atop the cattails once more and sighs, lifting her arm above her head and clasping her fingers around the sun above her.
*Countless years of searching. Countless forms. Why?*
The form she settles on most times resembles what would have been known as a human girl many years past. Humans, however, had long since vanished from this earth, and Janes memories of her youth had vanished with them. She didn't quite feel as though the human form validated her. She didn't miss them as if they were alike. Moreso, she missed them as one would miss a best friend.
"Come, Jane" Jane sighed. A phrase that had managed to stay with her all these years. The words were spoken most often to her by her best friend, long since passed. How she wished she could remember more.
"woof!"
A strange noise cuts through the buzzing locusts and chirping birds. Unfamiliar and familiar at the same time, like an old song heard for the first time in years. She raises her head and shoots a furtive glance towards the noise, honing her ears in hopes that it would sound again.
"Woof! Woof!"
Jane jumps from her bed of cattails and takes off towards the source.
*Maybe this time...hopefully this time*
edited; clarified some text per the advice of /u/Fakename_fakeperspn
|
They had hit him with a scrambler when he tried to board the station. He didn't know they took "No shapers allowed" so seriously. It had forced him out of the shape he had taken, a human one, and caused him to shape into everything he saw in front of him. It wouldn't have been that bad if there wasn't a projection of all 236 races in the Community. His body blasted through all 236, repeatedly, until it settled on human again. The sentinels all had their weapons drawn on him. "Change into your natural form shaper!" they had yelled. He wanted to comply, to do what they said because he knew they would kill him if he didn't. But after that scramble, something was wrong. He was stuck, he couldn't shift, all he could ever remember was being human.
| 2015-02-18T08:31:02
| 2015-02-18T06:12:13
| 50
| 12
|
[WP] A party of adventurers were paid to track down and kill a monster sighted in the area. A week later they return saying they have found the monsters, before drawing their weapons on those who hired them
|
The Lord's house was quite quiet at night. He usually dismisses his servants shortly after sundown with only a guard posted at the gate. He worked hard to make not only his estate safe but much of the surrounding village.
Which was why it was a surprise that there was someone *holding a knife to his throat!*
"I don't know why you would pursue this line of villainy, but just take me and the treasures you want and leave my family and servants be."
"Cut the crap, Drakemoor." He know that voice. A slippery fellow that was the point of contact for some adventurers he hired. "You've got some explaining to do." The man, whose went solely by the name of Quick, removed his knife but didn't sheathe it. "You knew exactly why you sent us out there."
Drakemoor stood up and faced him. "Of course I did. Someone sighted a goblin in the woods and followed it back to a march of a large group. I need them disposed of before they become a threat."
"Yeah, and a unicorn might make me its wife." Drakemoor reeled a bit from such unpleasant imagery. "I've been around and I know exactly what kind of goblins those are. Vermiri Goblins to be specific. Peaceful as can be. They're not invading, they're refugees. The war in their homeland? Displaced the lot of them. A war, I might add, you backed yourself in the King's court!" He pointed his knife accusingly. "You knew exactly what they were."
He walked up on Drakemoor until he could smell the anger on his breath. "And you paid us 500 of the King's gold to remove them. You monster." The Lord felt the tip of the knife near his liver. "Did you really think we wouldn't notice? Over a hundred of them and you wanted us to just slaughter them for that money?"
The Lord looked ashamed. "I... I didn't think of it like that. I'm sorry to put you in such a difficult position. I don't know what I can do to make this up to you and your group. I feel terrible."
"Yeah, well, you should. When I found out what you actually wanted us to do, the wizard in our group wanted to show you personally what a fireball detonated inside your house would do. The healer in our group, though, said that spilling blood like that profits nobody and asked me to talk with you."
"I'll not look a gift like this as an offense. I must make things right. What can I do?"
"2000."
The Lord looked at him nonplussed before asking, "What?"
"Two thousand gold to kill them and cover it up. We buy some cheap weapons, make it look like they were planning an attack, and everyone's butts are covered."
"I thought you were angry because I asked you to kill innocents. You called me a monster!"
"Yeah you're a monster! You didn't pay us enough!"
|
Mayor Douglas sat in his office, waiting for news. He had other things he needed to do, but this was important. The adventurers her hired were seen in town, heading for the town hall. Since they were back, that meant they had succeeded in their mission. This was a highly ranked party known for accomplishing tasks. The only way they would come back is with the head of the Beast in their possession.
The group of five entered the room. They did not have anything on them that could be considered the Beast's head, but what did he know? These were powerful people. They likely had at least one bag of holding on them. They definitely had enough money, if the equipment they had on was any indication. Everything they wore radiated power. Even their jewelry was most likely powerful enough to be classified as a national treasure or major military asset. The only way to get such things was with massive amounts of money, or by risking life and limb in the darkest places of the world.
"Welcome back, adventurers." Mayor Douglas said with a wide smile. "I trust you were successful in your quest."
"We found the Beast you told us to kill." Said the party's leader. He was a tall fellow with well formed features named Bennit. "But we did not kill it."
The mayor's face fell. "So, you failed. And I thought you were supposed to be the best."
"We did not fail." Bennit said. "We refused to carry out the task."
The party's healer, a woman with (supposedly literal) angelic features called Alline spoke next. "When you gave us this quest, you forgot to mention one important detail. You said we would be hunting a monster than had kept your people from logging and hunting in the forest. You did not mention the monster in question was the Great Sacred Beast of the Forest."
Douglas stiffened. He had not expected them to know what the Beast was. That would be problematic. "Bah. Who cares about a monster's title. I asked you to kill it."
A slight man dressed in what looked like leaves and vines spoke next. "Do you know what would happen if we killed it?" The druid, Lestin, asked.
"We would be able to send in out lumberjacks."
"No. The forest would die. In fact, all forests would die. Everywhere. In all likelihood, all plant life would die. That particular Sacred Beast is the source of all plant mana in the world. Without it, plants would wither away."
"Oh please, you can't expect me to believe that."
"It's true though." The party's mage, a tiny woman called Bea, chimed in. "Everyone knows the Great Sacred Beasts allow the different kinds of mana to exist. They collect cast off life energy, convert it into mana, and release it into the world. Without them, life could not exist. If any of them were to die, the aspect of nature the Beast represents would die as well. This one was of the Forest, and governs plant life. So killing it would end all plant life in the world."
"And so what? All I know is that its presence is keeping my people from setting foot in the forest. Without that, we cannot survive. So, I demand you go out and kill that Beast so we can resume business." The mayor growled. "Otherwise, I'll be sure to inform the guild that you were too cowardly to accomplish this simple task."
Suddenly, Mayor Douglas felt something press against his throat. It was long, cold and sharp. He froze. The party's rouge, a wiry fellow known only as Grey was no longer among the rest of the party. It was no mystery where he had gone.
"Did you know, Mr. Mayor," Bennit said, "That there are laws regarding the Sacred Beasts?" The swordsman drew his blade. It was hardly needed, considering there was already a blade pressed to Douglas' throat. "Very strict laws, in fact. Hunting a normal Sacred Beast is punishable by life in prison. Hunting one of the Great Sacred Beasts, on the other hand, well, that's a bit more severe. And the way the law is made, even posting a quest to kill one of them is counted as hunting. Care to guess what the punishment it?"
"You...you can't do this!" Mayor Douglas shouted. "I am the mayor of this town! I do what's right by my people, to be damned with monsters with fancy names. Besides, you don't have the authority to execute anyone."
"Actually, we do. In this case, we do. As those who accepted the quest, and those who saw what the target actually is, we are not only authorized to carry out the punishment, we are obligated to. Otherwise, it would make us look just as guilty as you are. Besides, we are a trusted, honorable party of adventurers. People know we speak the truth in just about everything. They will believe us. And even if they didn't, all we would need to do is show them your request and then take them to see the Beast itself. So yes, Mr. Mayor, we very much can do this."
"Don't worry." Alline said quietly. "I shall prey for your soul's well-being." She clasped her hands and a faint glow surrounded her.
And that was the last thing he saw.
| 2020-04-26T08:45:44
| 2020-04-26T07:15:21
| 27
| 13
|
[WP] once in every month soulmates get to see from eachothers’ eyes for 60 seconds until they meet for the first time. It happens unexpectedly and neither of the pair knows when it will happen. One day you see someone you recognise from your soulmate’s eyes.
|
September 2nd, 2028. 10:37pm.
&#x200B;
I've burnt it in my memory. I can remember every single
fleck, every shadow, the shape of the iris. I catch myself
dreaming of those eyes - the lashes, the small laugh lines.
Everything.
&#x200B;
I've seen them on the third of every month since my
awakening at nineteen. Some awaken earlier, some later,
but never beyond thirty. Somewhere between thirteen and
twenty-nine, a couple in the world see the eyes that mirror
their hearts. Their souls. They yearn for it - hunger to
see them in reality. For six very long years, I have ached
to get to the third of the month, to see them again. The
pale green eyes with the violet flecks scattered within
them.
&#x200B;
Tomorrow I will see them again. I will feel the warmth
of knowing that person is out there, waiting for me. I
will get up and go to work at Bethesda Memorial Oncology
Center, and see them again. I cannot wait for sleep tonight,
if I can find it.
&#x200B;
September 3rd, 2028. 10:15am.
&#x200B;
I've made it to work. 45 minutes until I see those lovely
eyes. But first, I must see to my rounds. I've got a new
one today. Room 603. Let's see:
&#x200B;
Sarah Jehosephat
Age: 23
Height: 5'6
Weight: 107 lbs.
Type: Aggressive, Terminal.
Approximation: 6-10 months.
&#x200B;
As I scan quickly over the chart, I steel myself for
the meeting. The terminal ones are always tough.
Devastating.
&#x200B;
"Sarah, I see we have a round of chem..."
&#x200B;
Green eyes, violet flecks. My world stops. She looks up
and I know she knows. Those beautiful eyes fill quickly
with tears.
&#x200B;
The chart clatters to the floor. My vision blurs with tears
of the theft of everything. The lump in my throat threatens
to choke the life from me. My tongue is thick, useless.
&#x200B;
The love of my life is dying. And I have ten months at
the most.
&#x200B;
And I only just met her.
*edit - redundancy.
|
For 24 years, I’ve seen out of Kate’s eyes once a month. It happens, and I’m used to it. I’ve used my earnings over the years to vacation, see the most beautiful sights the world has to offer. Today, I fear her. I sat on the edge of the canyon, looking down, when it flashed before my eyes. My old roommate, Kyle, the gun in front of my new face, aimed at his chest. One. Two. Three. Three shots. I saw his chest move back, his jacket fly behind him. His wallet, his phone, his body, all hitting the ground. I watched as Kate stopped down, and grabbed his phone, turning it on. An image of me and my ex, hanging it with Kyle in Amsterdam flashed on the screen. One more bullet to the screen. I saw the ground recede, and her eyes lock onto the mirror, a beautifully deadly smile crawling on her face, sending my heart into overdrive, love and adrenaline causing through it. She laughed, the sound tearing through the night sky. Her eyes, hazel, like always, look at her reflection. “Hi Mark. Miss me?” The fifth bullet groom the gun shatters the mirror, as I stunt to my reality. I grab my phone, about to call Kyle, like I do when things like this happen. Then it hits me. She’s closer. I recognize where she shot him. His apartment, right next to mine. I get up, and hop in the car. I dial the same number I have every month for most of my life, until he picks up on the other side. “Who was it this time?” “Kyle.” “We’ll send a crew. Relocating again?” “No. It’s time to see her face to face.” I hang up, knowing what comes next. For the first time in 17 years, I was going to see Kate. This time would be different. But it never was.
(Ok, I tried. I’m tired, I’m swamped with work, I’m hungry. I just wanted a plot twist.)
| 2019-02-13T15:59:22
| 2019-02-13T15:32:40
| 658
| 110
|
[WP] You are a Squib who mastered a vast repertoire of Muggle magic tricks to finagle Hogwarts into sending you a letter. Everything goes smoothly, until it is time for the Sorting Ceremony...
|
"You know you will never live up to your peers, don't you?"
The young girl trembled in her too-big robes. Memories of her older siblings taunting her came to her mind. Paralyzing her with magic for hours, spraying spiders over her, having a storm cloud follow only her.
And her parents allowing it. Shrugging it off because she should learn to fight back. If she was worth anything, she would.
*I know,* she thought. *But I can't go back.*
She brought up the things she's learned; everything from basic sleight of hand to ancient rituals that, if she concentrated hard enough, she could swear made her luckier. After all, wasn't the letter proof that it worked?
The hat seemed to soften on her head. "My dear," it muttered, "those are simple parlor tricks. The letter was because of your magical lineage. You've no magic in you."
Tears stung her eyes. *I can learn. Some jobs don't require it. I could train magical creatures. Or run a store. Or keep records.* She nearly sobbed as she pleaded with the hat. *I'll scrub floors if I have to. Please.*
"Hmm," the hat mused. "You really have thought of everything. So willing to think outside the box. But are you willing to put the work in?"
She briefly noticed the other students, whispering in their chairs. She saw the haughty faces of her siblings staring from deep green robes; they knew she wouldn't belong. She began to lift the hat.
"RAVENCLAW!" the hat bellowed.
The tears fell as she heard the roar of applause. Headmistress McGonagall gave her a knowing smile as she looked to the blue students in the room. As she lifted the hat, she thought, *thank you.*
She could swear the hat smiled as she walked away.
|
As the hat was placed upon me, a cold dread overcame my entire body. And this time it wasn't a senior prankster from Slytherin. As the hat wiggled around my head, the halls were dead silent. Something was obviously wrong. The hat had never taken this long to make a decision. Dumbledore sat at his chair, mildly amused. It was almost as if he had known all along. Then I heard Dumbledore mutter a few words under his breath, and then the hat expanded to a massive size. I couldn't breath and the hat had completely swallowed me. I tried screaming, but no one would hear me. The last thing I remembered was everyone laughing in the halls.
| 2017-06-25T14:30:03
| 2017-06-25T13:48:53
| 330
| 33
|
[WP] Everyone hates Stan. However, you are the new guy and no one will tell you why they hate Stan. You decide to talk to Stan. Its been 3 months and now you're telling the new guy why everyone hates Stan.
|
The new girl smiles apologetically, as she knocks on the open door to my office.
"Hey there! It's Frank, right? I asked you how to work the coffee maker on my first day, last week?"
I nod. Now that she mentions it, I remember that. The coffee maker is a real pain sometimes. Fucking Stan.
"I'm Jennifer, by the way. I had a question?"
"Ask away, Jen" I smile, trying to look approachable. Being new is hard.
Her jaw tightens a little, but she smiles.
"Its... well, it's about Stan?"
"Fucking Stan." I respond, automatically, "Sorry, that was unprofessional. Just... Fucking Stan."
She nods understandingly. "Common sentiment. Only, I'm new here? So I was wondering, uhh, why it is that everyone hates Stan so much?"
"Everyone hates Stan," I say "But it's hard to explain why. Fucking Stan. It would be better if you talked to him. Then you'd understand."
She makes a so-so gesture with her hand.
"I'm just a little nervous, is all. He makes everyone hate him so much, meeting him must be awful." She looks apologetic, drumming her pen against her notebook.
I nod. "Oh, it is. Fucking Stan."
She looks up at that. "Say... how about you talk me through meeting Stan. You're quite new yourself, aren't you?"
"Only been here three months, that's right!" I say.
She nods. "That's what the others told me, yes. So, could you tell me? About Stan?"
"Oh, certainly! I had only been here for a week when I decided to talk to fucking Stan, and I can remember it as clearly as though it was yesterday! But are you sure you've got time to be wasting talking to me? I remember my first week was *hectic.* You'd probably be better just going to talk to Stan yourself, Jenny"
She leans forward in her chair, smiling tightly. "We've got all the time you need, Frank."
"I guess I'd best start from the beginning, then."
&#x200B;
The past week had been terribly busy, so I'd not really had any chance to make any friends. About the only thing I knew for sure was that everyone *hated* Stan, here. They mentioned it, pretty often - whenever something went wrong, or near enough. It was terribly frustrating, though; there seemed to be some sort of collective decision not to tell the new guy anything - I would ask, and get a bland smile, and be told to see for myself. It was incredibly irritating, to tell the truth.
But on Friday, I finished my work early, and I decided to finally do it. To go talk to Stan, see what all the fuss was about.
So I got up, left my desk, moved the chair away from my office door - there's so little space in these offices, I swear - and set off down the hallway. I met Sheila by the water fountain at the end, and after she stonewalled me about Stan one last time, I turned left - I'm sure you know, at that end of the hallway, turning right leads to the break room, turning left leads to Stan.
I unlocked the door, pulled back the deadbolt, opened it and set off down the corridor towards Stan's office. The lights turned on as I walked, and I felt an inexplicably sense of dread. Isn't that funny? I was just going to talk to Stan, and I was dreading it. I suppose it's to be expected, though. Fucking Stan.
Anyway, I got to his office, knocked on the door, opened it, and-
&#x200B;
"And?" Jenny asks, her pen poised over the page.
"And- And- Say, why are you asking me? Why don't you go check for yourself?"
She sighs.
"Mr Waters, if you can tell me what you did two weeks ago, then I'll leave and go check on Stan myself." Jennifer stands, brushing herself down.
"I helped you with the coffee machine" I reply.
She smiles sadly. "I'm afraid that's not quite right, Mr Waters. I told you that you did that *last* week. But I suppose it was a fair extrapolation."
"I don't- I don't understand? What's going on?"
"Our records show that you arrived at this... *company* last monday. You went to see Stan on Friday. Yesterday. *What happened when you saw Stan?*"
"Fucking Stan." I reply to the new girl.
She runs a hand through her hair, and turns to leave, but thinks better of it.
"I'm so sorry, sir. I promise, we won't allow this to happen to anyone else."
\><><><><><><><><><
Preliminary Incident Report on entity "Fucking Stan"
Agent on the scene, Captain Jennifer Mitchell.
It is unclear at what point the entity took up residence in the office, but it is the recommendation of this investigation that we quarantine the site, and endeavour to exterminate the entity. Without personal contact - for reasons that are obvious from the attached documentation - the investigating agent cannot comment on the ease by which an entity such as this will be eliminated.
It is quite clear that the entity devours memories, as the agent's discussion with Edwin Jenks will clarify. Per recommendation of the board, the conversation was repeated whilst identifying Edwin by a different name. It did not have a noticeable effect; he appeared to genuinely believe himself to be "Frank Waters". He appears unaware of the nature of the entity, nor of the fictional nature of the "three months" that he believes have passed. It is clear he does not remember contacting the agency, nor of his own attempts to protect himself from the entity.
|
Being an Avenger (no, not that kind) gets boring sometimes. I’ve learned, the best way to have fun at a job where the only fun part is hunting to consume the most unworthy of souls on Earth, is to talk shit. I got good at that recently. But mainly because my other demonic friends in my department taught me.
Like, I didn’t always get to make many friends as a young angel. God never approved of me mixing with the lower angels because I would get distracted and never do my work. So, after he kicked me out of His Kingdom for fucking one of the demons in the level above me, I felt freed. It was so great. From the moment I joined Hell, I tried to have as much fun as possible. I made as many friends as I could to avoid loneliness. The first place I made friends was at my new workplace: the Avenger department.
Here, I made a lot of good memories, including bringing my first girlfriend here for lunch so she could meet my colleagues (they liked her, and she liked them, but Stan told me she wasn’t allowed to stay longer than an hour because she’s human. We all ignored him).
My department is the most fun out of all of Hell. We get to do what redeemable bad guys do in Earth movies. We get revenge on the real bad guys on Earth because the Angels are too moral and prissy to get their hands dirty for that. Basically, we’re the better version of Suicide Squad.
Stan is like a supervisor. Not really a boss, more like a taskmaster than anything else. He makes sure we’re doing our work and tells us to stop getting distracted if we stop our work for even a minute. You may be asking, what the actual fuck?
Allow me to explain. Half of our job is to brutally hunt down and destroy or consume the souls of the most despicable, heartless, and merciless pathetic worms that are biologically classified as humans. The other half is to do research on those souls prior to hunting and document the hunt and result after hunting. So if we weren’t constantly on the grind, Stan would tattle on us to the boss.
The big man was Joseph. Ironic, I know. Joseph never worried too much about constantly keeping us working. He was a good guy. Well, as good as a soul-sucking lifeless catalyst and servant of His Satanic Majesty Lucifer can be. He never got on our asses about working for eternity. That’s what we’d be doing anyways.
In fact, even Joseph hated Stan! I was shocked when I learned that. I couldn’t understand why everyone was so upset with Stan. When I first joined, I tried to model myself after the higher demon. He seemed like a hard worker and really smart. I always strived to achieve his level of diligence.
But no. Stan’s a jackass.
Let me show you why.
The first week was fine. I did good work. Hard work. I was awesome. Everyone loved me. Even Stan loved me! Things were going great. My maternal was proud of me, my paternal was in good health, all was well! (Preternatural beings like me don’t have parents except God, so in Hell, for our own sense of family and to relieve the workers of our eternal strain, His Satanic Majesty assigned us family units. Not wives and kids, which we choose. Just maternal and paternal figures.)
The second week in, Stan immediately began to get on my ass about the tiniest of details. He reviewed our reports to ensure all was well before he sent them off to Joseph, so he read my reports too. The moment he found even a minute error like a missing comma or a misspelled word, he would make a big deal out of it. He acted as if my incorrect subject-verb-agreement mistake had killed his maternal and tossed his existence into the Eternal Pit of Despair. He was so melodramatic.
This continued for two months. He never stopped. Since then, my work quality has always been impeccable. I don’t want to hear his whining, so I put my reports through to Sally from Demonic Literature in the next building over to check that my writing is good. She’s such a good help, and doesn’t dramatize a grammatical error like that absolute slime mold of a demon that we call Stan.
Recently, we got a new recruit. A young angel named Lucas joined the Frey. (If you got that reference, you rock. Christian Hell and Heaven talk to all other pantheons and Holy places. Frey is the best god ever. That man is fucking golden.)
Lucas joined us a few weeks ago. Kid’s a genius. Better than all of us and twice the hard worker. He, like me, couldn’t understand why everyone hated Stan. I told him my story in his second week before he experienced it. He’s been living the good life since I showed him the higher road. His maternal is so proud of him for having so many new friends already (he mixed in with the office real well). His paternal thinks Lucas is the smartest creature to have ever existed. The office thinks he’s an amazing employee.
As for me? I love the guy. Really, he’s my best friend, little brother, and son all rolled into one. He’s actually having dinner with me and my girlfriend tonight after she comes back from her visit to the Red House in the Capital.
(His Satanic Majesty is quite the comedian and fairly dramatic, so he calls his palace the Red House after the similar place in an Earthly country. It’s quite amusing. My girlfriend visited Him to get His blessing so she could stay with me after death rather than be forced to go to Heaven. She’s so cute.)
Anyways, my girlfriend thinks Lucas is the nicest demonic kid she’s ever met. She likes to think she’s his big sister or mother figure when he drops by for a meal at our house or for our regular event nights.
I can safely say that I have fair reason to hate Stan. Lucas has fair reason to hate Stan. But at least we can be happy even with that utter undignified troglodyte’s presence in our lives.
| 2019-03-13T22:42:04
| 2019-03-13T21:19:21
| 31
| 16
|
[WP] You never miss a pill ever since you were a kid and diagnosed with a deadly illness. One night while out, you’re kidnapped by human traffickers. You plea to be let go because you’ll die without your pills. Turns out, the pills were keeping your telekinesis at bay. It’s starting to come back.
|
This actually reminds me a lot of the show The Umbrella Academy
nonthing the less
&#x200B;
"Please let me get mt pills. I'll die without them""If we let you go, you'll run away. Do you think we're stupid?"
"Pl-"
**THWACK!** Followed by a loud thump to the floor. You were unconscious and being transported to a place where you may die, yet your main concern was your pills. You wake up and see that it is now morning, and thought to yourself, *At least* I\*'ll die before where ever I get to where ever I'm going\* You start to chuckle at the fact that you know you will be of no use, and are consoled by the fact that you will meet death before whoever you were being sold off to.
About a few hours pass and its high noon, but you don't feel any different. You think to yourself *this can't be right. I'm supposed to be dead right now, right. Those pills are real right?* You make no attempt at conversation with the capturers because you know it's futile. A few more hours pass and dusk starts to set in, but this time you feel different, maybe even... powerful? No that's not it, but you have changed in a way. Night falls and you're woken up by the two men hurling you out of the car when a blast of something hits them. You immediately begin to think to your self "What in God's name was that. Was... was that me? No... that's... not possible... right?" You shake your head dismissing the idea when you're hit by a tranquilizer dart. The guy hit by the blast gets back up, and they carry your body off to the auction site. You wake up in a dark room behind a stage surrounded by a number of other people who you presume are in the same situation as you. *Is... Is this it. Am I being sold off? I should be dead by now. Why... why am I alive right now?* The curtains open the blinding lights give you a terrible headache, causing a ringing sound in your head. Before the stage, there are countless rows with people, primarily men, sitting down and eyeing the people on the stage. You also look around and notice there are around 70-80 of you. The announcer starts the auction, and immediately there is murmuring, fueling your massive headache. After around 30 seconds you break. A colossal explosion comes from around you, destroying the stage, and causing the entire building to shake. All of the people and chairs are blown to the back of the massive auction house. As everyone starts to get up, another, a bigger explosion occurs. The building now on the brink of collapse. A final boom, even more powerful, and the building now collapsing, but all of that is irrelevant because the only thing your eyes perceive is the blood. The massive amounts of pooling blood, and red-stained blood. The very sight of it brought you back to your scenes. Your breath is now completely unsteady. *Wha... What happened here. Am I dead? Did...Did I do this?* Your brain is now completely unable to comprehend anything, and you faint.
you wake up in a police department and is immediately brought into question "Do you have any memory of what happened there mam" All I remember is passing out and waking up surrounded by blood and rubble. I was going to be auctioned off, but something happened" You were the only survivor, so we thought you have had something to do with it, but you probably couldn't have done anything if you were being sold off" Why haven't you done anything to shut down this terrible, terrible business?""excuse me, mam""You must be aware this is happening, why aren't you doing anything"
"Ha... Do you really think we control this town? I'm sure the mafia could easily take on the entirety of the police here. We're just here to investigate stuff like this"
"Oh"
"Well, You're free to go"
"thank you"
You go outside, and can't remember the last time you felt the sun like this. It's warm, almost comforting. You suddenly remember that you haven't taken your pills in over a week, but you're not dead, in fact, you feel very different. Like a candle that has been rekindled, like... like a part of you that you forgot about, and once again have. Your life would never return to the way it was, despite how much you wanted it to. This is apart of you now.
(I am not a good writer, so please have mercy. Thanks )
|
"-nna die, please!" The laughing ceased and was replaced by a momentary sound of a water balloon hitting the entire room followed by the splash of warm water over my body. The room was silent.
Hello?"
The blind fold was pitch black and let nothing in, the ropes around my wrists chaffed but already they felt loser, I thought i heard the knots being untied though but couldn't make out any other sounds but the occasional drip of what must be rain water.
"M-my pills" I managed. My savior didn't respond but continued to untie the knots.
"You need to get my pills if I dont take them ill die" From what could have been a few feet or meters I heard the familiar clickity clack of a pill being dropped into a prescription bottle. he was collecting them
*while untying my hands? no, his friend, police maybe, what had they done?*
no sooner did the ropes fall the ground had the other man placed the bottle in my hand. i frantically opened it popping a warm wet pill to my lips before spitting it to the ground where it made a sploosh sound.
*blood?*
I tore the blindfold from my face.
there were no men no woman the door was locked and i hadn't heard it open.
their was only me. an inch deep in blood of what I could only assume were my captors from the bits of meet and bone that dripped from the walls and ceiling.
I needed to go, I needed to get out. I ran for the door it opened as I approached it. no one on the other side I stepped through the door way and turned back to take one last look at the room I turned away and closed my eyes tightly the door slammed behind me just as quickly, just as tightly.
| 2019-11-13T21:57:51
| 2019-11-13T21:44:49
| 42
| 21
|
[WP] As you walk along the Thames pondering what Brexit will mean for you and your family, a soaking wet woman walks up a set of stairs from the river, hands you a package and tells you “Sort it out, please!” before vanishing around a corner. You open the package to find Excalibur.
|
"Here, sort it out, will you?" The strange woman just about lobbed the sword at me and started to vanish back into the Thames. Before I could do more than stammer a few half-formed words, she was gone.
I stared at the sword in my hands, barely able to hold the heavy hunk of medal upright. My eyes traveled down the length of it, from point to hilt. On the hilt, I noticed an emblem, like a family crest or something. Upon examination, and considering the circumstances, I felt it could only be one thing.
I stumbled back closer to shore and yelled out into the river: "You do realize I'm French, right?"
|
*Slap*. The damp package was dropped into my arms.
"Here you go. Now sort the damn thing out." The woman turned and strode off into the Thames once more, leaving me nonplussed. I slowly unwrapped the parcel, to reveal...a sword, bearing an ancient weight of responsibility. Damn.
I phoned my Grandmother; she'd know what to do.
"Hi Grandma... yes, it's Will... Kate's doing fine...no, actually Grandma, I do have something I want to talk to you about. *It happened.*"
"...Yes, just like you said; a soggy woman from the water, passing the blade over. What?...Oh it's a plain blade... it has the inscription though."
"...no, I don't know why she missed Dad either, Grandma. All I know is I am currently holding Excalibur, and I was told to sort this mess out."
"...*what do you mean, you're looking forward to a holiday?!?* You're going to stay and help, right?... An irish passport, that's why you're visiting Northern Ireland. Great, Grandma, just great."
| 2016-06-27T11:27:09
| 2016-06-27T10:27:12
| 420
| 157
|
[WP]: every human being is born with a birthmark signifying a great deed they are fated do in their lives. Your first child has just been born, with the mark of a murderer across her face
|
I looked my son in the eye and told him firmly, as I had this day for the last 12 years, “It is not your fault, you didn’t kill her. Anyone who says differently doesn’t understand what happened, now blow out your candles, we’ll visit the grave after cake and presents.”
|
I rush to the hospital, excited beyond belief. A child! MY child! A little one to hold, to teach, to love! Words can not contain my boundless joy! I broke a few speed laws on the way, but who cares! I'm a father! I enter the hospital, rushing straight to the room number the clerk told me. Bursting in, I see my wife, my beautiful wife, lying on a cot. Her face, with the beautiful marks of one who is destined to be a performer, isn't facing me. She is turned away. Her shoulders are shaking. She can wait, I must see the child! A nurse, with a doctor's markings, takes me to the nursery. She won't look me in the eye. But never mind that, the child! Upon arriving at the nursery, I peer through the window and see my child, dumbstruck. It's a girl, small, with golden hair and eyes so brilliant, so piercing, I get the feeling she is looking at my very soul. Yet the part I am looking for, the party that truly matters, is the part that makes me stop. Her markings. They twist and writhe around her face like snakes too close to a flame. Hard edges somehow mixed with dangerous curves. The mark of a killer. The mark of death.
I rush home, anxious. The call from the from my daughter was urgent, panicked, alone. At home, police cars and a single ambulance are waiting. I barge through the door, greeted by the averting eyes of those who are marked to protect, to be brave, to never surrender. The police step aside, leaving a pathway to out bedroom. My bedroom, now. My beautiful wife sways from a breeze that doesn't exist, stares at me while the rope and the ceiling croak at me with voices of despair. She is with me no more. I return to the main room, where police, with their marks of justice, and my daughter await. She runs to my arms, sobbing. The police slowly file out, whispering. I catch a few words. They believe my beautiful wife's death was the one my daughter was foretold to cause. But I kNow Better.
I rush to the accident, weakened. The police on the line had been calm, patient, explaining the wreck. My daughter and her friend, hit by another car. I arrive at the wreck, astounded by how warped two pieces of metal could become. Still in my daughters car, I see that face of her friend, the marks of kindness on his face blotted out by the streaks of blood. There is no hope from him. My daughter is released by the paramedics, and she runs to my arms, shaking beyond control. As I help her into my car, I hear the others speaking. They believe we can now live in peace. BUT I knOw bETter.
I rush through the house, enraged. Nineteen years, waiting, watching. I know she'll hurt someone, I KNOW IT! THE MARKS HAVE FORETOLD IT! I must stop her, before she stops another. She runs from me, but SHE CAN'T RUN FOREVER! I chase her to her room, but the door is locked. I hit it, and hit it, and HIT IT! IT WILL NOT OPEN! I hear sirens outside. The police with their fake marks of justice. They're on her side. We'll see who gets the last laugh. As I sneak out of the house, I hear their words, consoling her. They believe I won't come back, that she's safe. BUT WE KNOW BETTER!
I rush through my thoughts, cold, calculating. I will not let my ANgeR control me, not like before. That was how she got away. Not this time. I have prepared for too long to allow this to fail. She thinks she can start over, start a family, start being happy. WELL SHE CAN'T! She knows better.
I walk to her. I had wanted to do this in private, but there was no opportunity. Twenty-seven years is too long to wait another minute. She is in a uniform, blue. The same uniform of the betrayers who helped her. But they can't help her now. I call her name, and she stops. Turns. Slowly. I smile at her, savoring the moment. I caught her. Pulling the knife from my belt, I start running to her. Closer. Closer. CLOSER! There's no way she ca- BANG! It hits me like a bullet. It is a bullet, right in my heart. She always was good at that. I crumple, and her shadow falls over me. Tears, on my face. Whether they are mine or hers, I don't know. She begs me not to go, pleads with me, apologizes. She shouldn't. I have failed, not her. I, who shared with her my marks. I, who taught her to try and be something better. I, who never even followed my own advice. She tells me all will be okay, that help will arrive.
But I know...
| 2014-05-11T02:02:48
| 2014-05-10T23:42:39
| 81
| 48
|
[WP] The toaster is possessed by an evil demon who is getting increasingly angry at the limitations of just being a toaster.
|
**"I WILL BURN YOU ALL"**
"Sure thing man"
**"ALL YOU KNOW WILL CRUMBLE ON MY RETURN"**
"I know you got dreams man"
**"I SHALL SHAKES THE GATES OF PARADISE AND BURN IT ALL TO ASH. THE SKIES WILL CRACK IN TWO ON MY RETURN AND MY FURIOUS RAPTURE"**
"Dude, why do you keep that demonic toaster thing about?"
"Cheap heating"
|
*Insidious seethings within, bestial malefactions, caprine claws wrap tender flesh in vivid dreams that dance with shadow and fire.* **Pop**
"Barb, the toaster lever won't stay down," Jerry whined in his early morning way.
"Set it to *dark*," Barb advised without really caring.
"I already did...," jamming the lever downward.
*Lustful, languid forms. Filthy, writhing creatures, hungry for entrails, prowl alleys sipping stormwater; the gluttons within indulge every desire to excess and congratulate themselves in ancient and unearthly languages.* **Pop**
"It popped again...honey..."
"I'm sorry Jerry, I'm drying my hair." The blowdryer whooshed alive with freight train decibels.
Jerry unplugged the toaster, wrapped it unceremoniously with its own chord and stuffed it into an already full kitchen trash bag. An empty plastic milk jug crunkled somewhere within. "Piece of junk," Jerry muttered, tying the bag and tossing it into the attached garage.
**Pop**
Silence.
**Pop**
**Pop**
**Pop**, **Pop**, **Pop**, **Pop**, **Pop**,**Pop**,**Pop**,**Pop**,**Pop**,**Pop**,**Pop**,**Pop**
Silence.
| 2016-01-11T10:13:40
| 2016-01-11T09:00:22
| 29
| 10
|
[WP] When you die, a field of text appears in limbo, revealing the high scores of life, and your score. Your score is the top score.
|
As the darkness slowly dissipating the words 'Congratulations You Got The Highest Score' appear before me once again. The hell. But I did everything wrong, no matter what I do. If I'm successful, get a good career, a wife and kid I win. If I murder an entire village I win. If I do nothing I win. Even after I killed myself I still win.
I wake once again. Another body in another time. "Why can't I just Fucking loose, I want to move on" I scream. " I think to myself. Every time I win, every time I get another free life. Can't they tell I just want this to all end.
|
'Pretty decent.' I thought to myself as I gazed upon the floating characters in front of me. 'How many times I laughed, how many I cried, the longest piss I've ever taken. All just average things.
Except for the list which showed the times people listened to a certain song. fuck yeah did I make it to the 1st place. Aint I ever gonna give that up!'
| 2016-06-08T13:07:36
| 2016-06-08T12:39:54
| 151
| 55
|
[WP] It is the year 2XXX. Medical science has advanced so far that complete body restoration is possible. However, patients revived from death consistently end up in a vegetative state and no one knows why. You are the first person to revive and retain their cognition. Now you know.
|
The first thing on her mind as her consciousness pooled back in to her fleshy brain was eating. Consumption. Satiation.
“Test number...uh, what is it.” Pages flipped over on a clipboard as the man squinted. “Three hundred and ninety four. Vitals are...fine. All normal.” He scribbled something down on the board.
“Doc. Why do you insist on using that thing?” The woman held a sort of interface in her hands, some hologram above displaying a lot of numbers that she, in her half awake dreamlike state, couldn’t begin to comprehend. “Everyone thinks I’m old-fashioned for using a tablet to record info, and you’re over here with dead trees and ink.”
The doctor sighed. “Dr. Stevens, it makes it feel like I’m doing something important. Instead of just watching poor excuses for the living dead.”
She opened her eyes more fully to look at the doctor with the clipboard. Something urgent was on her mind, always slipping. Like walking into a room and forgetting why you were there. How could she retrace her steps, go back into the room she had been in and remember how she had gotten here?
“I’ll check for responses,” Dr. Stevens said. She moved up towards her head. “Not that there ever are any, but protocol is protocol.”
She locked eyes with Dr. Stevens, who jerked back, pulling the tablet close to her chest.
“Am I hallucinating? Doc, look at this.”
Doc, meanwhile, was shaking. “Can you hear us?”
She channeled all her mental effort into her throat, and managed to croak out a few hoarse words. “Where am I?”
-=+=-
They all looked at her as if she was Jesus.
Well, she has been raised from the dead, just not by God. They had told her that much.
God. The word echoed around her brain, like the word hunger. Both fit together somehow, but she couldn’t rotate the jigsaw pieces together to click.
“We’ll need to run tons more tests to see exactly how well she is, but she’s here,” Dr. Stevens said.
She was now propped up in the bed she has been in, but a good dozen people had crammed into the room, several of which had suits on that didn’t suit the medical setting.
“So I died. Why did you bring me back?” She looked around the room, but no one met her eye.
“‘Why not’ is probably a better question,” Doc said. “We can fix living humans perfectly now. We can even fix deadish ones if we get to them soon enough. Why not someone who’s been dead for a while? We thought it would be easy, but you’re the only one who’s come back.”
“How long?”
Every word that scratched its way out of her throat was an effort, but the people in the room treated each one like the words of a prophet.
Dr. Stevens tapped her tablet furiously. “About a year, give or take a few months. You can see your family again,” she added, as if to smooth over the situation of raising the dead.
The more time went by, the more clearly her brain worked. Annoyance trickled through her system. And fear, for no visible reason, tickled the back of her brain.
“They’re going to say it’s playing God,” a suit said, “but we’ve already done that when we restored a deadish person.”
God. God. God. The word clanged around in her slowly filling skull, gathering more momentum until it all fit.
The puzzle clicked. The fear, the thought just evading her.
“God eats them,” she breathed.
“What?” Doc asked.
“God eats them,” she repeated. “He eats their souls.”
They looked at each other. Their prophet had gone mad.
But the vision was clear as day. God cultivated them on earth, and ate them. Well, God is what she had called him, but only because he had made things. But he could never fill his hunger for something beyond what he had done. The maturation of souls were something special.
She had evaded him for months. Got herself lost in the endless procession of souls that went to his plate. And then fled further. The details were fuzzy, but she had been pulled back here. Into her body. Safe for now.
Most only lasted a week before they ended up destroyed in the fires of God’s belly. A few survivors like her remained.
The people in the room were quietly talking to each other. Perhaps a side effect of being dead for so long was that it messed with your brain.
But she knew. She knew that hell was in God’s endless hunger for the one thing he couldn’t entirely create.
-=+=-
2AM writing prompt let’s gooooo
My first reaction on hearing the prompt was like ‘what if god ate souls or something so that’s why revival doesn’t work’ along with that random story about how some kid thought people were different colors because god liked to eat different flavors. So uh yea here’s my shoddy expectation reversal I guess
|
The cool logical void I was in where everything made sense was violently disrupted by warm fuzzy static. Nothing made sense anymore, every thought ^sliced ^^apart in^to p^ie ^^c ^es. One moment I was hurtling at high subluminal speeds towards Uranus -- the next -- I -- . The world returned to the cool logical void again, its infinite blackness covering and absorbing everything.
Faraway I heard someone calling a name. A physical sound, unlike directly transmitted thought of the telepathy comms we used aboard the system voyager.
"Katherine? Dr Hayes?" I squinted my eyes, and tried to force them open. They refused.
"Her eyes are attempting to open...we did it...!" Someone whispered in awe.
"Filling the tanks." I felt a warm syrupy liquid start to pool beneath my back. The voices became clearer as my hearing got better. I felt more relax, as if I was at home. I willed my eyes to open again. Two large octopi stared down at me, masks dangling off their strange heads.
I rolled my eyes around, frantically thrashing my limbs. A sucker-filled appendage slapped me in the face. "OW!"
"She's panicking, she's panicking ! Drain the water, now!"
I felt the water recede beneath my back. As the water drained I felt my energy levels drop precipitously. The last thing I saw from my wide-angled eyes were _four_ limbs on each side...
[ to be continued ]
| 2020-10-30T02:54:40
| 2020-10-30T02:29:54
| 87
| 10
|
[WP] A world in which everyone develops superpowers. Most get variants of the most common types; Speed, Strength, Hearing, etc. You, however, have just discovered your own. You can punch people through the Internet.
|
The advent of testing for genetic markers of "meta-human" abilities in the 22nd century really helped stratify the post-evolution society. When meta-human abilities were first discovered, it was often by pure chance, and it was really difficult and required days of extensive behavior tests to verify an aptitude. In the year 2159, a geneticist at the former Broad Institute was able to gather DNA samples of 100,000 meta-human subjects and developed a test to be able to quickly categorize a person's innate aptitude for their ability.
By the time that the cheap $50 test was integrated with the traditional college application process, all of the major tier-1 colleges required applicants to submit test results along with their standard application package. This led to the foreseeable result of many Universities attempting to specialize in specific areas of competence. Harvard was seeking memory-enhanced applicants for their history department. MIT was seeking computation-enhanced applicants for their CS and Engineering majors. Stanford developed a clear preference for upper-body strength-enhanced applicants in a bid to finally break into the crowded rowing and crew tournaments.
When Bob got the results of his test in the mail, he was extremely disappointed and puzzled. The letter from the thin white envelope contained a one bold-face line...
Bob Kreigman:
***************
RESULT: Not matched for any known aptitude.
***************
Clearly, this crushed his dream of getting into Duke's telepathy department. So he did what any normal high school senior would do in his situation - he posted the results on 5chan and asked for advice. The trolls soon descended.
"Well, at least you can still make a decent salary working at McDonald's"
"Are you sure you tested negative for being a dumbass?"
"Go kill yourself."
Bob had expected some trolls, but one comment about being a poster-child for the perils of being genetically stunted by inbreeding really set him off. In fact, the emotional letdown of the negative test results and the sheer volume of troll posts angered him so much, he punched his monitor in frustration. However, instead of shattering the display, his fist went *through* the monitor, and his fist connected with a fleshy "thwack" to user anonymous13541998's chin.
"OW, what the fuck man!" Came through the speakers on the bottom of his monitor.
This was the start of Bob's new business - Kreigman Private Investigation for the 22nd Century. After honing his skills, he was able to reach through and throttle any anonymous poster of any internet forum and social media website. His clientelle slowly grew as word of mouth spread of his unique ability. His initial customers were jealous girlfriends who wanted to slap the girls posting Facebook comments on their boyfriend's wall. Eventually, he was sought out by PR firms to be a publicity consultant for major brands. Usually the job involved punching people who left negative reviews of his client's products on Amazon or Yelp.
One day, Bob got a mysterious email from a .gov address. It was a clear request to punch the sender in the face. When he pulled his fist back from the monitor, though, he noticed that there was a CIA business card and a short message scrawled on the back.
"Needed to verify first. Would like to talk about an espionage and counter-propagandist analyst position at the Agency. Call this number if you are interested."
With a smile, Bob knew that he would be alright.
|
"Really??" I typed back! Idiot! Who the hell did these friggin keyboard warriors think they are? "Bet if you were here, I'd take you out, punk." Damn my luck (and my temper) for not being at my apartment where my punching bag was. And then getting in a fight on McDonalds Wifi? "If only I could punch this fool through his screen!"
Suddenly I paused. In the last year or so (who knew exactly?) folks had been getting super powers...levitation, laser eyes, that kind of tomfoolery. What I wanted was to be able to punch someone though their screen...I could see my fist connecting with his nose...boy could I!! What if...did people get those powers because they wanted them? In a world full of super powers, I had none. Not even speed reading (I dunno why anyone would want that, i rather enjoy taking my reading slowly), but anyway.... I closed my eyes, and concentrated on my fists, imagining feeling the screen yield as my fist touched it, then the sound of breaking cartilage. I felt a tingling beginning in my fingertips, then working its way up my arms to my shoulders. And furthermore, when I concentrated on JBDoolie998, I could actually see the SOB sitting in his armchair, triumphant grin on his face as he held his cell up to his face. Heheheh...I giggled softly. I glanced at my new smartphone, hoped I wasn't being an idiot, and aimed my fist for its screen. And...."MOTHERFUCKER!! Who the hell hit me? How the fucks' this even possible? My fucking PHONE just hit me!"
"No dumbass," I typed at his outburst, "You just met the Female Fist of Fury fucker!!"
| 2017-03-15T11:49:31
| 2017-03-15T09:56:27
| 388
| 62
|
[WP] Every year, your nation supposedly sacrifices a human offering to the Elder Gods. This year, you've been chosen, but when you enter the sacrificial chamber you just see all the previous sacrifices chilling with the Elder Gods.
|
I still remember my name, drawn from the national lottery, written in blood red ink, held up to the sun as the crowd cheered. In relief? I would suspect so. But I was ready to die.
For days I feasted in the stone palace lined with gold, fed the best of the best from across the vast nation's reach. Fragrant rice from the south, the best meats from the east, and soft bread made from the wheat of the north. But that time was over.
"It is time," the old man said, his voice booming across the palace hall, his darkoak staff glowing modestly in the night.
Escorted by guards down the throne, they looked at me with looks of sympathy, offering me words of comfort as I made my way towards the elder. Muttering something, the old man led me down the corridor, down an unassuming staircase leading to a long, empty hallway. The walls seemed to stare back as I looked down the hallway.
Honor would come to my family, and that's all that mattered.
"This is a great honor, for you to be granted with an opportunity like this."
"Indeed, elder," I said, confidence taking root in my heart as the fear went away.
"Your family will be greatly rewarded. And you shall represent our great nation in the halls of the gods. Death is only a part of life, child. Do not be afraid."
"I am ready, elder," I said with resolute conviction.
"Courageous indeed," he smiled back, half expecting me to break for it and escape while I still could.
He held my hand like an adult would a child, and walked me down the hallway. Halfway down the drab hallway, passing the occasional splatter of blood, the elder stopped, and looked to me with a look of sympathy.
"That is as far as I can walk you. Be strong, child. You are doing well."
With a press of a hidden button, I was sealed in by a rolling stone door, the air dry with the smell of coagulated blood and corpses. I looked around, with no path in sight. Was this how I was going to die? Hardly enough for the gods.
Just then, the dead end of the hallway opened into another chamber, the heavy stone sliding out of the way as I walked towards my end. Part of me wanted to run, to turn around and escape, in whatever way I could. Yet I knew I had to keep on my path. My life for the exoneration of my family- a worthy trade.
"For the nation, for my family."
I approached the door, my family in my mind's eye as I shut out the world, and took one final step as I lost my footing and fell into the abyss.
Darkness.
I opened my eyes, and there was nothing.
Death?
Nothingness was all around me. I could still feel my body, yet I could see only black.
It was at that moment the world faded back into existence, shadow giving way for the light as I stood before the Elder Gods themselves.
"Welcome!"
"Am I dead?"
"Why does everyone ask that? No, no, you're very much alive!"
I was speechless.
"Hey, welcome to the club," another human regarded me, one of the past sacrifices.
"Won't you stay for a while?"
"I... I think I just might," I smiled.
|
The pale moon was just creeping above the snow-capped peaks. Liana felt insignificant beneath its unblinking gaze. Liana wasn't afraid, though. Fear was for the weak, and the weak weren't sent to the gods.
She had been brought up to a platform taller than a man, and nearly the whole village had gathered for this day. The priest paced up and down the platform, delivering a rousing speech, but Liana couldn't pay attention. She was singularly focused on standing tall, standing still. If her hands would just stop shacking...
The speech ended with booming finality, and the crowd erupted in cheering. One of the clerics approached, got down to one knee, and reverently presented a silver sheath. The from that sheath, the priest drew a blade black as obsidian. He scanned the crowd as he did this, and they quieted for a moment. Then, after a dramatic pause, he raised the point towards the sky, towards the sun above. The crowd erupted, more fervently than ever.
The priest turned smoothly paced towards Liana, stopping with the blade leveled right at her heart. His grey eyes met hers. Liana had one last chance to back down. She wouldn't do that, of course. She looked down at the crowd, and their eager faces stared back up at her. She wouldn't betray them now, and be the shame of the village besides. But it was important that this be her decision, and hers alone, so even at the very end she had a chance to back down. Didn't she?
"Do it," she said. Her voice cracked. She tried to stand with the confidence of a statue, but now her whole arms wouldn't hold still. Then she gasped. The blade sunk into her chest like warm butter. She felt the metal burning inside her for just a moment. Then, in an instant, the world vanished. The priest, the village, the entire valley, all were swept away like dyed sand in a powerful gust.
Liana stood in a new world. She was surrounded by people on all sides, looking at her, judging her. She recognized some of them. They looked up, and so did she. Above, a formless, eldritch mass, suspended in the sky, twisted around itself, and a great silver eye twisted down towards the new arrival.
| 2019-09-18T23:36:56
| 2019-09-18T21:52:03
| 49
| 20
|
[WP] A photographer and a sniper meet in a bar. Neither is aware of the other's occupation. They talk about "how to take the perfect shot".
|
"I use a tripod a lot."
"Bipod works, too."
"Huh, never thought of that. Steady is important. Don't want to ruin a good shot."
"Yeah, that's the worst. When your subject moves unexpectedly just before you take it."
"Wildlife?"
"Sometimes, but mostly people."
"Yeah, me too."
"There's a lot of similarities though. Blending in, so they are not even aware that you are there."
"Yes, that's a whole skill in itself. And you know it when it happens, when you get that perfectly executed shot. You know it in that instant."
"Yes. So satisfying."
"I love what I do. It's like you capture a life in that one moment. Freeze it. That light of a person, caught in a bottle, their essence frozen irrevocably. Whatever look they had on their face, whatever thought was going through their mind, stopped in that one instant for all eternity."
"I feel you. I know that not everyone thinks much of my job. Maybe it's not world-changing. But day after day, subject by subject, I think eventually I must be making a difference. Someday it will be noticed. "
"You're right. I think we're both right. So many people need our work."
"I've taken so many..."
"OK, gotta get to a gig. Beer's on me this time!"
"Aw, thank you, man!"
"No worries, had a couple big jobs lately, doing well. Heading over to do a wedding right now."
"What a coincidence, me too!"
"Ha, wouldn't that be a riot if we were booked for the same one!"
"Yes, it sure would..."
|
She'd told me she'd shot a few people.
I'd laughed.
I shouldn't have laughed. But... but there's 14 trillion photos due to be taken this year, on average little Jimmy, little average Jimmy, will take 3 and a half thousand shots this year... on his own.
Everyone thinks they're a fucking photographer and it's killing the industry.
I shouldn't have laughed. Especially as I'd asked. But I did, and I told her that it didn't sound like that rough a day.
A couple of shots didn't sound too bad.
She didn't really react. I mean that was weird. That should have been enough for me to figure something was up. It wasn't.
She ordered me a drink, shared me some professional-courtesy-world-weary-look that just pissed me off more.
She'd ordered us drinks though, that was kind of hot. I started on the full force struggles of the artform diatribe I'd used on and off since college with different photochicks. The whole chasing that "perfect shot" tale of woe.
She just nodded. Staring balefully into her drink.
We talked about life through a lense. I really thought I'd got her, maybe even she'd got me. There was a connection, she had an angle on things I'd never considered. What is the cost of the shots we take?
I really should have figured something was up then; smart, hot, artistically intriguing, working in the same field in the same city and giving me the time of day, I don't know why I didn't see it until she left, telling me she had some Ukrainian Drug lord to get a headshot of before midnight. We laughed over lighting jokes, she had a nightvision "scope".
She wouldn't give me her number, that's when it clicked. Gay.
Bloody lesbian photographers. Ruining the industry.
| 2017-08-31T09:25:49
| 2017-08-31T08:12:15
| 2,248
| 962
|
[WP] "I'm sorry, but the thing you were looking for is sold out."
|
"I'm sorry, sir, but this property has already been bought"
"What? That can't be right. I saw this property was for sale two days ago!"
"No sir, that would be the one down the street. They do look very similar."
"Bullshit. I drove past this house before and it clearly stated "FOR SALE: $180"
"It was a first-come-first-serve deal, sir. Someone came just before you did"
"Oh for goodness sake then. Who bought Bow Street then?"
"She did, sir" and the banker pointed to the lady next to me, holding up the card for Bow Street and smiling.
"$58, if you please."
|
I knew the clerk was lying. I knew- if you go to Safeway and ask for black candles at 3 a.m. they're going to tell you they sold out. It's not like I was doing dark magic or anything, I just needed to summon a Raven. He was a friend of mine, and a perfectly nice bird. For crying its loud this wasn't even magic proper! It was just like making a telephone call to the supernatural world. But I couldn't tell that to the little old lady behind the counter. Not with her half moon spectacles and little gold cross round her neck
"What's wrong, dearie? If you really need some candles we have some lovely pink rose scented ones right there."
She pointed to the Valentine's Day displays. Ugh, it was only January.
"Thanks, but um, I think I'm alright. Do you know anywhere else that sells candles this late?"
"Well sweetie there's the other 24 hour market, but I highly doubt they sell black candles. I just don't think they're very pretty or *wholesome*."
She fixed me with beady eyes.
"Thank you, I'll check there. Goodnight,"
"And you too, darling!"
I resolved to get to the other market before she called ahead to ban them from selling me candles.
| 2014-01-27T06:29:28
| 2014-01-27T06:00:22
| 37
| 16
|
[WP] A blind-man on his death bed asks you describe color to him.
This should be fun :)
|
"Any regrets?" I asked.
"Yeah. Wish I could have see what you've seen." Issac laughed, his blind eyes staring off into oblivion. "I dearly wish I could have seen color. My world was always so dark and featureless."
"Any color in particular?" I asked.
"Blue. I've always heard people talk about the color blue. They seem to really enjoy that color." Issac had a wistful look on his face as he said it. "Before I die, I would have liked to have seen the color blue."
"Give me a moment," I whispered, getting an idea. I searched through the doctor's supplies on the cart and found what I was looking for. The gel ice pack the nurse had provided to reduce the swelling of Issac's feet. I slit it open. "Hold out your hand, Issac."
Issac did as he was asked. I squeezed the gel out into his hand.
"It's cold." He said, furrowing his brow.
"What else?" I asked. He rubbed his fingers around in the gel.
"It's smooth and silky. What is it?"
"That's the color blue, my friend. It's how we feel when we see it." I explained. He laughed and rubbed his fingers together, relishing the feel. "And this," I said, moving the lamp over his arm. "Is the color yellow."
"That's warm. What is that?" He said, reaching up toward the source of heat. He burned his hands on the bulb. "And that," I laughed, as he hissed in pain, "is the color red."
"You asshole," Issac laughed, sucking on his burnt fingers. I laughed as well, reaching out with a rag to clean the gel off his other hand.
"All other colors are just combinations of those three." I explained.
"Even white?" He asked.
"That one is harder." I confessed, thinking. "I got it." I cried, disappearing into the hall. I came back with two plastic cups. "Here. Hold each of these over your ears. One over each ear."
Issac fumbled around for the cups, taking one in each hand. After a embarrassed chuckle, he did as he was instructed. He listened to the silence for a few short moments. "This is the color white?"
"Yep," I said, after he pulled the cups away. "White is like a featureless blanket blocking out everything else. It's blinding."
"And, what about black," he asked, closing his eyes. The heart monitor's beep got further and further apart. "You're about experience black, my friend. Any moment now." I told him sadly.
"Maybe--maybe I'll be able to see . . . in heaven." Issac whispered, slipping away.
"I hope so, my friend. I hope so."
|
"Yellow," he says.
Turning away from the window, I furrow my brows. "Uncle?" I haven't spoken in so many hours, the word comes cracked out of my dry throat. The tiny, frail little man in the bed raised me after mom and dad died. Raised me, in spite of, you know. Being blind. I don't know, maybe we raised each other. Me, helping him pick out clothes, describing the TV, and my girlfriends. Him, sagely walking me through adolescence, teaching me the piano with that eerie ear for music he always had. He was always so vital, large, in spite of his blindness. It hurt me to see him like this, surrounded by the beeping machines, intubated, wired.
"Yellow, Jackie. I always wanted to know what yellow looked like. Tell me." He tenses, reaches up, his sightless eyes clenched tightly as though in pain, as though this were the most important thing he could possibly know.
"It's like..." He's never done this, not in the twenty years we've had together. As cliche as the question is, I can't help but ask myself, 'How do you describe a color to a blind man'? "Warmth, on your face, from the morning sun." It's the first thing that comes to my mind and sounds lame, to me. But he relaxes into his bed.
"Go on."
"It's like when you smile, and your face widens and relaxes." I come to a rest in the chair next to the bed, reach out and grab his withered hand, skin under my fingers like paper. This hurts so, so much. Without him, I'm an orphan. My eyes blur. "Lemonade, citrus rind, lemongrass tea." I can't-
"It's like..." and I can't think of anything else to say, so, starting softly but gaining volume, I sing:
"When you are wide awake, say it for goodness sake, it's gonna be a great day.
When you are standing there, get up and grab a chair, it's gonna be a great day.
And it won't be long. And it won't be long, oh no. It won't be long, it won't be long.
It won't be long, it won't be long, oh no. It won't be long, it won't be long.
It's gonna be a great day."
The flatline harmonizes, but he rests with a smile on his face. And the last thing I can think of is yellow.
| 2013-12-29T07:25:46
| 2013-12-29T06:55:18
| 37
| 10
|
[WP] At long last, Einstein has been successfully cloned. Only, he is now a hard-partying frat who doesn’t care about science and only wants to have an A-good time, exploiting his genius for cool party tricks. Many envoys were sent to try and convince him, but he didn’t budge. It’s your turn.
|
"He advanced our understanding of theoretical physics. He is studied, celebrated and beloved to this day. He changed the world! Surely, if you applied to yourself to any scientific field, you could make an equal amount of progress for science and humanity, if not more."
"...And what else did he do?"
"I'm sorry, what-"
"What else did my father do? What was the *other thing* he famous for?"
"...The Manhattan Project."
"Ha! 'The Manhattan Project', way to skirt around the matter. Sounds like a nice luxury hotel owned by the Trump family, with golden toilet seats and $10 bills as toilet paper."
"We both know that isn't-"
"Then *say it*, say what it was. Say *what he did*."
"...He developed the nuclear bomb...alongside pioneering early development of nuclear ener-"
"Oh fuck off with that shit! It was about the bomb and nothing else! It was about making the world kowtow to America! It was about getting there before any potential enemy could."
"-Mr. Einstein-"
"DON'T. CALL. ME. *THAT*. ...Alphonse will do just fine."
"...Alphonse, we don't necessarily expect you to study physics, especially nuclear physics. Biology-"
"Bio-weapon."
"-would also be an acceptable subject of study, as would chemistry-
"New explosive compound or highly advanced acid."
"-Engineering-"
"Weapons."
"-Technology-"
"Computer viruses."
"-Psychology-"
"Propaganda and torture."
"-Robotics-"
"Killer robots!"
"-Botany?"
"...Killer plants? With poison, so much poison! And it could eat-"
"Alphonse please! ...We're not going to force you to make weapons or harm others."
"But you want me to, *ohhhh,* you want me to discover the next big thing that could make even a nuke obsolete. Something that could kill anyone or everyone you need to. *Then* want to."
"Alphonse-"
"Do you know...do you know what the estimated death toll for just the bombing of Hiroshima was? 200,000. 200,000 or more dead souls...if you want to use me for that kind of fucking evil again I refuse!"
"Fine! But do you also have to refuse dignity beyond being something more than a partying drunk?"
"...Don't you dare pretend to care about me. You think I don't see how everyone who knows looks at me? They don't see a person with individuality or a soul...they see Albert Einstein, back from the grave, with a brain free for the picking. At least...at least these people don't really care. All they care about is just...having a good time. What's wrong with that?"
"Are they people who will change the world though? Are they people history will remember?"
"Who says you have to be? Who says you have to change the whole world? Isn't it good enough to just live a life where the only world you affect is your friends and family? The people around you? I think its a life I could be happy with."
"A brain is a terrible thing to waste, Alphonse."
"A brain is a terrible thing."
|
They thought I was a failure, and technically they where correct. But what they didn’t know is that I was smarter than my forefather.
I’m 20 years old, although technically I’m only 17 because of the growth therapy when I was a baby. I go by Al, Big Al, Steiner, and, usually sarcastically, Einstein. I am a clone of Albert Einstein, born in the year 2000, and raised under close observation for the first 10 years of my life. The scientist who looked after me the most, Doctor James Wright, wanted me to have as close to a normal life as possible. So from 10 until I was 15 I lived with James. He was the closest thing to a father I ever had, but I always struggled with dissociation, if only for the fact that he still had to run reports to the lab on a weekly basis.
Eventually, I left home and went to college. I had already amassed a tidy sum in an online bank account from investing in the stocks and cryptocurrencies, so I bought a frat house off campus called EpsilonMuSigma (EMΣ) and had only one policy; Party, 24/7!
James still came to check in with me and the first time he visited I passed it off as a housewarming party. Every other time... he was less than thrilled, because I had all the paperwork, and because of my documents saying I was over 18 there was no issues legally with what occurred on my property.
Because of some of my unique traits, one of my favourite party tricks is for someone to throw out a random equation and I solve it immediately. It gets more complex when I ask three people to ask me at the same time and I answer them all, I even asked a whole room to ask me and I went through and solved every single one of them without writing anything down. Because I was raised to harness my intellect from a young age, I have honed it to an almost superhuman level. But even though I’m smarter than everyone around me, that doesn’t make me better than them, nor does it stop me from bonding with so many people. See, everyone’s different, and just because I’m smarter than them doesn’t mean I shouldn’t listen.
Except I don’t listen to the labs anymore. They ask me to take my studies seriously, to report to them, to start tinkering and making, researching and developing. But I don’t want to. The world is at a great spot! Why does it need one more eccentric billionaire to ruin it? And besides, I already finished all my assignments on the first 2 days, and only need to attend exams. All I wanna do is party. I have documented several new galaxies, synthesised new elements, and made it big on the stock market. But no one else knows this. As far as they know, all I do is party. But little do they know I have accomplished much in the meantime.
Why should I share it with them? They could never understand what I’ve created and how it could be applied. New flight technology, new laser and explosive tech, all being tested and developed by me, for me, so I can make the world a better place. On my own terms. But first. I party.
How do I do this? Well,I grew up in those labs, I had access to some of their information but little did *they* know I had access to all of it. I read how they made me and copied that process in my secret lab, and fast tracked his development till he was indistinguishable from myself, and gave him all of my memories, all of my thoughts, and all of my dreams. One day, we will work together to Mold the world into our own shape
But for now, we party!
Edit: I just realised I misread the prompt big time! Oh well, I hope you enjoyed the story anyway
| 2020-05-19T01:31:57
| 2020-05-18T22:21:12
| 292
| 72
|
[WP]"This is how it works," Death explained. "You pick the game and we play. Cheating is allowed, but if either one of us is caught by the other, they lose. If you win, you'll wake up back in the hospital and I'll give you another 10 years. If you lose then it's time for judgement. Understood?
|
(Sorry for any grammar errors in advance. Edited for spelling. I’m not the best at this)
"*This is how it works*," Death explained. "*You pick the game and we play. Cheating is allowed, but if either one of us is caught by the other, they lose. If you win, you'll wake up back in the hospital and I'll give you another 10 years. If you lose then it's time for judgement. Understood*?”
Marcus heard the voice in his head before he heard it with his ears. The echo betrayed the vast expanse of space he was seemingly standing in.
He kept looking around Death trying to perceive form but each time he focused on something it would fold into itself and a new shape would appear “Yeah I understand.”
To Marcus, Death was a towering void with subtle facial features scattered among the form against a sea of starlight. Cloaked as if someone had draped a statue with a black hole.
“*I am inclined to inform you…*” Marcus heard the echo of Death’s voice again as he was looking around “*...before you pick our game let it be known that beings here do not tire. As such do not expect to succumb to fatigue nor thirst.*” Marcus heard Death proclaim as he looked around then back to Death.
“Okay...uh...may I get some time to think?” Marcus asked while trying to focus on what he thought was Death’s main face. Death gave what Marcus perceived as a slight nod.
A few minutes went by as Marcus stood in contemplation.
“Ya’ said I can pick any game right?”
Death nodded.
“And ya’ said we won’t get tired here?”
“*Correct again*” Death echoed.
Marcus looked up at Death inquisitively “Then…{ahem}...then can we play fetch?”
“*Elaborate*” Death’s echo was distinctively louder than before.
“Two years ago my momma’ was cleaning the house for family to come over on Thanksgiving. She opened up the door to let out the dust from cleaning but accidentally left it open for too long and my dog Rook got outside. My momma' couldn't stop him and he ran into the street and was hit by a car. It wasn’t the driver’s fault or my momma’s fault or even Rook’s. He was just too fast. He was my boy. But I was working when it happened and didn’t get to say bye.” Marcus stifled a cough and took a deep breath.
“He died in the Vet’s office before I could get there. My sister put up her cell-phone to his ear so I could say goodbye but I think he was already dead. You could hear it in everyone’s voice. I got to hug him later but he wasn’t there anymore.’
He began batting away at whatever tears tried to take hold.
“You said we can play any game so I want us to play fetch with Rook.”
“*There can be no winner to that game. You cannot cheat at that game.*” Death’s form became more rigid “*Choose another.*”
“No, Rook’s gonna’ be the winner because you said we won’t get tired. So we’re gonna’ play forever.” Marcus puts his fingers to his chest “And besides you can cheat if you pump-fake and don’t throw the ball to him. He’ll catch on eventually. He’s smart. Plus I get to see Rook again so I’m gonna win too.” He pointed at death “You took him from me two years ago so I know you can bring him here. That’s my game Death, that’s what I wanna’ play.” Tears streaming down Marcus’ face roll off his cheek and dissipate into nothing.
“And I promise you I aint gonna’ be watching you so pump-fake all you want. But in order for you to lose or give up and send me back we gotta’ at least start playin’ so **bring rook here**…..please.”
His voice splits as he points at his feet fighting to keep his eyes open.
The absence of sound is broken by a low bass rumble.
“*So be it.*”
Marcus is thrown down to a field of tall incandescent grass. He can feel wind cooling his face. Death is already there and unfolds and unfurls at the bottom revealing a dog who sprang forth to Marcus as if he was waiting behind the curtains.
“Rook!”
|
My heart was pounding as I sat in the plane, staring at the map. There was just me and one other person on board. I was waiting for him to take his exit first, staring at that yellow dot. However we were almost halfway through the island, and he was still there. Panicking I decided if I jumped and went straight down I might stand a chance.
I jumped, looking straight now to the center of the island, the school I knew so well. So many good and bad times in this school with my friends. I angled for the high roof, landed, and then fell off the roof.
I looked up, and say the tip of his parachute disappear over the rooftop. He had the advantage. Panicking, I started to run. I dived into a first floor window and into a classroom. A frying pan was on the teachers desk. I picked it up sadly, knowing it would not save me.
I went to the door, checking left then right, on my turn back to the left to start my run, I heard it. A slight footstep from the stairs nearby. There it was, the bastard himself, in a yellow banana suit, shot gun pointed at my face...
BAM! It was over. I was dead. A feeling I had had many times before, but this time I knew it was forever.... Except not! DINK! The bullets hit my pan! Saving me from lethal damage. I was alive, but in my shock I did not move. It was too late, he was going to end me with the next shot.
And then it happened. He never pulled the trigger. I just stood there for a second, confused. But I realized I had to take this opportunity. I took my pan and bashed his head in. WINNER WINNER CHICKEN DINNER.
--------------------------------------------------------------------
"Brendan it's done, that ban wave we promised just rolled out. We even kicked them mid match."
"Good job intern Steve. That should keep the masses at bay for another day"
| 2018-03-07T09:56:50
| 2018-03-07T07:11:15
| 27
| 17
|
[WP] Hundreds of thousands of years ago, humanity, a feared spacefaring race was finally pushed back by a galactic coalition. Forced to settle on the death world Earth with no technology in hopes that they would die off. Now, after evolving among the local wildlife, humans take to the stars again.
|
1.8 Million years ago, there was a terrible species known as the Humans, originating from an arm of the Galaxy previously thought to be sparsely populated.
They were ruthless and unstoppable in their conquest. Entire systems fell.
The merchant and gentler races fell first. Easy targets for resources and expansion, surrendered to Human rule with little fight.
But they hungered for more.
They approached ever closer to the more military races, the first ones they clashed with were the Zaeni, a proud species who were powerful and respected and prided themselves on self sufficiency.
The Humans cut them down in a matter of weeks. Their Technology, Tactics and Brutality were unmatched.
There was no quarter given. Those who survived, fled to their neighbour races and did something no one would ever expect a Zaeni to do.
They asked for help.
I have never seen more despair in a being's eyes than the looks that those Zaeni survivors wore on their face, and I will never forget it.
The Humans broke them. They were incredibly powerful...and merciless.
The races were in panic as the Humans had gained control of an entire arm of the Galaxy with no sign of relenting.
An emergency council was formed. All races of known space came together, old enemies and rivals put aside their differences for the fate of the Galaxy as a whole.
The Zaeni showed footage of the Human invasion and their monstrous power, and the threat they posed to us all.
The Council now understood the grave danger the Human's posed and demanded co-ordination.
Even the the warring Atrax Empire and R'ein Confederacy called a ceasefire for the sake of this common enemy after viewing the footage.
The Salvaging Nomad race of the Yatar even came out of hiding to offer what assistance they could.
The Intelligent Arthinians offered their knowledge.
What was proposed was simple, mass sharing of resources and a military alliance the size and likes of which had never been seen before.
From large to small, from weak to strong, the entire Galaxy came together in its hour of need, to push back the darkness.
So that freedom and all our ways of life could continue.
We simply called it the Coalition.
Every single species worked overtime to bring their Fleets and Armies up to colossal size.
To levels they could never have hoped to reach on their own.
Hundreds of thousands of Dreadnoughts and Battle Ready Capital Ships, Orbital Defence Platforms ready to be transported to the Front Lines, innumerable Frigates, Destroyers and Fighters.
High tech, Top Secret Weapons Plans were shared among the Coalition, they were incredible breakthroughs, some even lost to time.
Hadron Beam Cannons, Quantum Refraction Energy Shielding, Photon Mass Accelerator...truly marvels of engineering and warfare.
It was magnificent, what we could achieve together.
Auxiliary forces held the Humans off for as long as they could until the Coalition was ready to strike back and launch the counter attack.
A strategic retreat for the time being, it bought us the time we needed to maximise and gather our forces.
Almost a year passed, our heavy attritional retreats and evacuation of the more vulnerable races was over.
Everyone was ready, The Coalition Fleets stood strong, our Generals and Commanders were poised to strike.
Now was the time to fight back.
We moved our forces into position.
And just in time. The Humans had been doing the same thing as us, building additional forces and launched a surprise attack on our frontline fleets in the Adria System, who were defending the Planet Lira.
It was home to the gentle beautiful race of the L'ir , known for their connection to the nature and universal love and preservation of life.
If the Humans got there, they would destroy their world, strip it's resources and take away their ecosystem, killing them off in the process. It would be a tragedy for such a kind species.
But as fate would have it. We were in time.
#*Archive Log 21346:*
"This is Fleet Admiral K'tan of the Taxion Navy!
Detected Heavy FTL warp in system! We can't handle all of them! Requesting reinforcements now!"
"THIS IS THIS ZTN VESSEL CYGNUS, CAPTAIN ZLAN SPEAKING, WE'VE BEEN HIT BY A HEAVY PARTICLE BEAM, HULL INTEGRITY HAS BEEN COMPROMISED. I REPEAT HULL INTEGRITY HAS BEEN COMPROMISED. REQUESTING RESCUE AND EVAC POD INTERCEPTS IMMEDIATELY! INCOMIN-"
"THIS IS ORBITAL DEFENCE PLATFORM 17, WE ARE BEING SWARMED! WE CANT HOLD THEM OFF FOR LONG!COMMAND? COME IN? ANYONE!?"
"Roger, This is Central Coalition Command, All Units, this is a Galaxy wide, Quantum entangled instant communication to all forces and frontline system commanders
New orders as are follows, Counter attack and advance, Operation SUPERNOVA is a go, I repeat Operation SUPERNOVA is a go! Reinforcements inbound, ETA, 10 Seconds.
All Coalition Fleets, standby!"
______
The sheer size of the Coalition fleet was unfathomable, at least 50 races or more fully armed to the teeth.
We saved them. The L'ir managed to escape the war unscathed. Thanks to those who held the line.
The Humans had dropped In a fleet of Hundreds of Ships, that didn't help them much considering the Coalition had just arrived with close to a million and a half.
We utterly decimated them, the Zaeni among us relished the retribution.
But finally. After a year of preparation and calculated sacrifice, we were pushing back.
But the Humans didn't make it easy for us.
They dug themselves into every world we advanced to, we were winning, but it was a long and hard fought war.
We spent the better part of 6 years slowly forcing them into retreat. We had boxed them into the Arm of Orion, back to wherever they had come from.
Restocking, Rebuilding, Refuelling, the War economy of the Galaxy was at full speed to keep the Human menace at bay.
But finally, they crumbled. They began to scatter. Victory was all but assured.
Near the end of the war, we intercepted a colony ship of a million or so Humans fleeing their Home world. It was shot down and landed on a primal classified world and left to rot.
All other human installations and holdouts had been confirmed destroyed. So we headed home, knowing they would never again threaten the Galaxy and we're practically extinct.
And left that arm of the Galaxy in darkness, never to return.
The Galactic war was at last, over.
Over the next millennia or so, the Coalition collapsed, petty squabbles and rivalries reformed. Old resentments boiled up again in the absence of a need for unification.
The Atrax and R'ein wiped each other out over territory.
The Galaxy declined, still reeling from he massive resource drain of the galactic war. Many species decommissioned their armies and fleets, and downsized to save money.
But the cycle repeated over the next million years, war, greedy, petty rivalry. Sometimes civilisations just fell apart from the inside.
It consumed the Galaxy until there were far less left, apart from us, the eternal Archivers and Librarians of the last great age of civilisation, the peak of the Galaxies power.
This Galaxy still holds life in small places but it's power has waned over time, and its races scattered or lost, but since the darkness of the Humans has passed, maybe we are no longer worthy of such power anymore.
Take solace in that and enjoy the Universe our ancestors fought for, knowing that such things can never come to pass again.
-Xanthar Yatr
-Aethunian Historian and Author of "The Galactic War: Our finest hour?"
______
#*2345 AD*
__
#*Base of the Orion Arm*
___
#*System Classified by NASA as BTN-6415, Planet ON-24531*
___
#*United Terran Navy, Science Division Outpost*
___
In the ruins of a long extinct alien civilisation UTN Field Scribe Andrew Martinez could only be frozen with awe as he finished reading the translated passage transferred to his PDA, and took a step back.
"Holy shit..."
He rushed over to his Commanding Officer "Sir! I believe this data is a Class 1 Priority situation"
"This is just an archeological reconnaissance mission what could possibly warrant the attention of High Command and HQ? Let me see it then."
The Officer takes his PDA and quickly scans through it, his eyes portray shock but he keeps his composure
"And you found this on the Xeno database?"
"Yes sir"
"Good work scribe, you'll be commended for this find if we verify it, scan everything, back it all up, I'll get some engineers here to salvage what data we can. No wonder we've never found any live ones.
This could change history Martinez, you've made the United Terran Navy proud"
A ripple echoed throughout the Galaxy, a shiver, a whisper, the residents of the Milky Way could almost sense the dread.
Humanity was back and they are about to remember who they are...
|
Magister Karasu grumbled, flipping the pages of the Imperial Decree sent by the Kondeyku Empire denouncing the supposedly illegal mining done by the Gargaxton Commonality. If a human were to look upon him, he would appear as a short, stocky lizard with a predatory look, three legs and a pair of tentacle-like appendages coming from the back of his head. Fortunately, no human had ever seen a Jorenn, nor would they ever see one again, hopefully. As a Jorenn, whose empire sits on the other end of the Milky Way, he was a supposed impartial third party to the plights of both the Kondeyku and the Gargaxton. As the greatest Foreign Magister of his people, he would be a part of the two-hundred jurors to arbitrate this mining dispute over an aether-damned tiny asteroid belt.
Boy, did he hate his station sometimes.
A blinking light appeared in his holo-desk, indicating an oncoming call. That was unusual, Karasu was notably far more partial to text messages. Faster and to the point, which saves time he really did not have to begin with. Karasu barely moved his face to stare at the blinking light for one second before turning his eyes back to the Imperial Decree sent by the Kondeyku. "Answer." He spoke as clearly as he could in his gutterly, lizard voice.
He didn't need to look at the call screen to see who it was: the nervous jittering of Jakito of Neighboring Relations could be heard crystal clear through the comms console. "Magister Karasu, I have-"
"Better have some extremely important news for me." Snapped Karasu at once. He wasn't known for niceties. "I *said* I would be busy and unavailable for the following two Orbits. I *hope* you are keenly aware of my policy of dealing with one issue at a time, my disdain towards voice call interruptions, and my utter distaste for-"
"It concerns Earth."
Karasu's mouth shut. He felt a tingle flow through his scales. He kept two of his feet firmly planted to the ground while his third jittered nervously around. He finally turned to face Jakito on the viewing screen. "I apologise, Jakito."
"No need sir." Jakito said, giving a small, nervous chuckle. "We can meet by Historical Communion Park, if you want."
"I'll meet you at the phonta stall. I miss some good old park noodles."
-------------------
As greatest Foreign Magister, Karasu had eaten at fantastic buffets, experimented the strangest delicacies at private meetings with other aliens of the Galactic Coalition and ate extremely small portions of hideously expensive food for free from suspicious magnates attempting to bribe him. And still, nothing ever came close to the ruggedness of the phonta noodles sold at the park. It reminded himi of his younger days, when he was a mere apprentice, when his greatest concerns were learning the names and general preferences of their forty bordering neighbors and the grave importance of a historical war that happened he-didn't-really-care-how-many thousand years ago that he only needed to know due to some new protocol that had been passed and changed how intergalactic relations would be handled for as long as he lived.
Suddenly, that historical war became infinitely more important to him on that day.
"The humans are taking their first few steps towards leaving their solar system." Jakito told him as Karasu chewed through his noodles.
"...Last thing I was told they had been reverted back to their stone age and left alone in a planet full of dangerous wildlife and poor natural resources, therefore unable to ever be able to escape it."
"We are, ah, obviously wrong-"
"That is not what I am questioning. What I am questioning is how did they go from barbarians struggling to survive in their death world to coming close to escaping their prison in less than two years??"
"Well..." Jakito coughed, setting aside his own spicy bowl. In any other day Karasu would have remarked on how weak his taste buds were. "It wasn't in less than two years. They have been developing for more than five thousand years, we believe."
"Ah."
"...Of which less than four hundred were spent in the industrial age towards space expansion."
Karasu's fork slipped from his limp fingers.
***"That fast??"*** Jakito nodded slowly. "They are in the middle of our empire! How did it slip past us all these years?"
"I made an inquiry. After ten thousand years of them living as barbarians, using wood and rock tools and merely attempting to survive, orders were issues merely to merely update on them every fifty years. But something happened, and someone didn't file out the papers for the next scheduled examination and nobody bothered to check on the humans for..." He picked up some papers to read through them. "...six thousand, eight hundred fifty years."
Karasu gripped the bowl tightly. He would have had the incompetent worker's ass for dinner if only he weren't long dead by now. "So if we are not keeping an eye on them, how did we find out about their recent developments?"
"They... sent a message to us, sir." Jakito offered him a tablet.
"To *us??*"
"N-not us, specifically. To... anyone." Karasu gratefully accepted the tablet. "They... are afraid of being alone, and are hoping to meet other intelligent life."
Karasu's irritated frown melted away, his shoulders slumped. He looked at the tablet's screen, at all the messages, the audio files, the translations made by his kin.
It slowly dawned on him; the galactic terror that were the humans were *lonely*.
"...It may be a trap." He spoke quietly.
"It looks sincere, Magister."
Karasu handed the tablet to him slowly. "I assume all the major branches of the Jorenn government are being shown this at this very moment."
"Yes. As our greatest Foreign Magister, you will recieve a formal invitation to a meeting with the Consul very shortly."
Karasu offered the tablet back, but Jakito waved it off. "Keep it. It is not connected to the extranet, and you will need to review it to make a report. Do not lose it, Magister."
He nodded, slipping the tablet into his bag. His forgotten wet noodles laid cold and soggy at his lap. He was wondering what he would say to the Consul. He was wondering what he would say to the rest of the Galactic Coalition. Oh Aether what would he even say to them? What would they even *do*?
"What are we going to do, Magister?"
Karasu found himself forced to say something he rarely said in his station. "I do not know."
| 2018-07-19T07:59:57
| 2018-07-19T06:14:45
| 41
| 27
|
[WP] write a short horror story that seems completely normal and non scary until the very last sentence at which point it becomes absolutely terrifying.
|
You ever get lost in thought? So much so that you lose all track of time? Well I do, thinking about my life and what I regret. Wondering if that girl at the coffee shop likes me or am I delusional. The bills that are due and what I would like for dinner.
I get so wrapped up in it I can forget to even move. Like I'm sleeping, like sleep paralysis except there's no creepy shadows or odd sounds. Just me and my own inner monologue. Do you think you can overthink yourself? I don't know, but this metal table is a bit cold and hard on my back.
|
I hold her hand.
She smiles at me.
Despite having lost her sense of touch, she can somehow still smile, for me.
"I love you" she whispers
"I know" I reply.
"I'm going to beat this" she insists
"I know" I reply
Her eyes slowly close.
I put down the knife.
| 2017-05-31T02:05:57
| 2017-05-31T01:46:56
| 646
| 109
|
[WP] People's powers match their personality: impatient people get super speed, protective people get force fields and so on. Explaining why you have your power is... difficult.
|
The ball spins through the air as the Quarterback falls to a well-executed blitz behind it.
The entire bar holds their collective breath as a 50-yard Hail Mary hangs in the air for almost forever before perfectly landing in the arms of a receiver running along the 30-yard line.
Screams and cheers erupt from the normally-indifferent as well as fans of both teams as the ball makes its way to the 20-yard line. Defense closes in tight. The 10. An attempted tackle at the 5...
The bar television immediately jumps to a news network, which has just started a local interest story about fish. Groans of disbelief replace cheers of excitement. A few of the more... expressively-powered folk have to put out fires, mop up spilled beers.
The owner looks at me with that half-anguished expression common to people who are almost numb to frustrating things beyond their control. He knows it’s me. I made the mistake of apologizing once. He sets the TV back. The field goal attempt is no good.
Me, I’m looking for that one person. There’s always that one person; this doesn’t happen without them. A target is always necessary for empathic gifts.
I can’t see anyone standing out with just a cursive glance, so I go back to my drink. I’ll be honest, I’m not sure I want to know who it is in this crowd that is spreading bad information about fish. I don’t mean to correct them; it’s hard for me to control, like a reflex or a bad habit.
I can’t help it. I just don’t like it when folks are wrong.
|
People never really saw me for who I am, they saw a facade. I put on a calm, brave face, but in reality I was a raging inferno of hatred just waiting to unleash my fury. It had been this way my whole life, there were times when I really thought I was going to kill someone because of how angry they were making me.
Then it happened, the shockwave, the one that set the whole world into a new motion. Most people got really useful powers, some got flight, others got speed, my mother god bless her heart got the power to heal. I on the other hand, I got fire. Hellfire. I got the power to burn anything and everything at the flick of a wrist. I believe in fiction it had two names, Pyromancy when magic was directly involved, and Pyrokenisis when it was a form of telekinetic power. I dont quite know which category I'm in, all I know is that I can burn things.
Its hard to explain to people that no, I'm not the chill, carefree person they saw me as, and that in fact I'm so angry I can literally set the world on fire. A lot of people called me a liar, a freak, I've even had a couple call me a demon before... but really, I'm just the same guy, exposed for who he really is.
| 2019-09-08T08:45:34
| 2019-09-08T05:15:24
| 191
| 120
|
[WP] One night, something grabs your hand as it hangs off the edge of the bed. You give it a firm handshake. "You're hired," it whispers.
|
What the fuck was that?
I was having a dream. where I was sitting in a job interview. But for some reason, I forgot to wear pants and I was wearing this thong. The interview made a joke about how I was trying a little too hard to get the job but other than that, me wearing a thong to an interview was no problem. We went through the interview process and at the end, he tells me that he doesn't need to see any other applicants and that he wants to extend an invitation to work for their company.
I ask him if there's anything else I need to do to complete the process, he says not to worry and then says,”You’re hired.” and I shake his hand. well, the weird thing is when you're in a dream, everything that you feel, hear or see, you do it with your mind. So when you see something bright, it doesn't blind you because you're only receiving it in your mind. The weird thing though was when my interviewer told me I was hired, I heard him with my ears. It wasn't an inner dialogue like it normally would be with a dream.
Then here's the kicker. I woke up. and I realized I'm still holding the hand.
I fucking lost it. I immediately jumped up onto my bed like a sorority girl who just saw a mouse and I start screaming ‘What the fuck!’ over and over again.
In the darkness, I see a shadow come from underneath my bed and a voice tells me that I'm acting really unprofessional right now.
Now my first thought is that I'm dreaming. No way is this real. So I pinched myself. And it hurt. But I'm still there. So I look over at my mirror because I remember hearing about how you can't see yourself in the mirror when you're in a dream. And, I mean, it's dark and everything and I can see myself very clearly. So I’m not in a dream or that’s not true.
So I'm fucking losing it. I got brain cancer. I got schizophrenia. Maybe this is some kind of being from an alternate dimension. Maybe it's a demon. But before I can figure out what’s going on, the shadow says,” I'm not sure what's going on with you. But just to be clear, we're very happy to have you working with us.”
I don't know what the hell is going on. What?
The shadow, it's just like this blob. The more I look at it, the more it changes and the more I think it looks like something completely other than what I originally thought it looked like.
The shadow says,“ I'm not sure what the confusion is. Our interview process was quite exhaustive. Not everyone gets to work for the Shadow Kingdom. but from spending time with you, I have a very strong feeling that you're going to be a great match for our organization.”
I have no idea what the Shadow Kingdom is.
The shadow sounds annoyed. “Okay. Not sure what's going on. We did already make the offer so we're not going to rescind it but if you don't believe you're the person for the job, you are in no way obligated to accept the position. I know we shook hands but we still need HR to process you to make it official.”
“
I don't know what's more confusing. This hallucination talking to me or the fact that it's offering me a job that I don't know anything about.
“I'm not sure how you applied for a job, went through the interview process, and then seem to have forgotten everything about the job once the the offer was extended to you. But, and this isn't an accusation nor is it in any way an implication, but just so you know, we do drug test all of our employees.”
What?
“Okay, as I said before, the position is a Mortal Liaison. We haven't necessarily negotiated salary but we're quite competitive with other companies. Essentially, it would be your job to act as our agent in the mortal world because, unfortunately, due to certain discriminatory biases that as of yet are still legal, beings from the Shadow Kingdom cannot acquire goods and services from the Mortal Realm. This is why we need you. Again, it is full time employment.”
Actually, that sounds really good. I've been unemployed for five months now and my unemployment only has one more month left. This is really, really weird but this is actually perfect for me.
“We're very happy to hear that you're enthusiastic about being part of the Shadow Kingdom. Now, there is one minor catch. Very minor. I almost don't even want to mention it because it's so minor. But, just so you know, in order to take the position, you will be required to relinquish your shadow.”
I have no idea what that means.
“It's pretty straightforward. When you're walking around in the Mortal Realm, you won't have a shadow. If a light shines on you in a way that would normally cast a shadow for a regular mortal, it won't cast a shadow for you.”
Why would they possibly need this? I mean, it's not nearly as bad as finding out that this is a ‘network marketing’ position or that I have to give him money in order to apply or be hired. But, I don't know. This seems a little suspicious.
“Unfortunately, the Shadow Kingdom operates on different rules than the Mortal Realms. Liaisons for the Shadow Kingdom must formally announc themselves to other mortals by relinquishing their shadow. Now, there is a remote risk. and I say very remote. It's mostly confined to third world countries, agricultural enclaves, theocracies and the like. But there are people who, I guess you can say, hunt liaisons.”
So, basically I'm going to be a vampire period and vampire hunters are going to come after me. I'm going to wake up one day with a stake in my heart? I don’t know if a job is really worth that. No matter how competitive the salary is.
“You know what, I'm required, per policy, to disclose the information about losing your shadow and Shadowhunters, but honestly, I've been doing this a long time. A thousand years. I have had hundreds of Mortals work for me and only about 1% of them are ever discovered by Shadowhunters. Most of the time, the Shadowhunters don't even do anything. everyone thinks they're crazy so the liaison just continues as normal with a little bit more caution. Honestly, the last time a liaison was killed was 52 years ago. and that was in Kazakhstan.”
This honestly sounds pretty damn reasonable. but it probably doesn't pay very well.
“As I said before, our salaries are very competitive. Since you'll be working in America, our starting salary is $60,000 per year.”
At my last job, I made $26,000.
“And, as I said before, you will have to relinquish your shadow. Now, some fringe religious philosophers have speculated that a mortal’s soul is in their shadow but who really cares about philosophy, right? If they were so valuable they wouldn't be working as baristas, am I right?”
I don't know. losing my shadow was one thing but my soul? I mean, it's not like I was using either of those things but what if someday I want to?
“And, just so you know, we have full dental and health insurance with no co-pay or cost to you. Also, we provide one month of vacation per year and we will match you dollar for dollar for your 401k contributions.”
Where do I sign?
|
I’d been unemployed for five months, so don’t judge me for taking what I could get. Sure, the late hours and creepy house visits are off-putting, but a job’s a job.
It all starts like this, being on a job hunt usually leads you to follow a daily routine of LinkedIn, Indeed, Monster, CareerBuilder, and then, of course, the most promising of all — Craigslist. Now I didn’t get this job from Craigslist. But it did lead me to it.
It’s happen to all of us. You end up on a webpage and you have no idea how you got there. I was on Craigslist, clicked through to something else, then an ad on that page brought me somewhere to another comments section and that got me to some busty singles in my area which lead to another forum which then eventually landed me on a page with a stone backdrop — like a bad 90’s website — and header that read: “NOW HIRING”
So, being brave I clicked it. What the hell, I’m a semi-savvy user of technology. I have ad blockers and a VPN (well, I know what it is, I don't use it because that shit costs money).
What could possibly happen on this website?
The screen blinked a few times then a job board loaded. The top of the screen read “Current Openings at Demon Tech”
“Well, that sounds promising,” I said to myself and my cat as he tried to climb across my keyboard.
The list followed with similar insane titles:
- Soul Trapper Lvl. 2.
- Soul Storage and Transfer Engineer
- Second Executive Assistant to CEO
- Quality and Assurance of Souls
- R&D Intern of Soul-tech
- Android & iOS Programmer
- Custodial Services
Not being a specialist in Soul Trapping, Soul Storage, or Android programming, I applied for the custodial services position.
After a world changing interview I can say this — turns out, demons are real, not all that bad, and offer really great benefits. I mean where else could I get 401k match, paid vacation, and health insurance for working as a Janitor.
---
I wanted to write something for this prompt before I go to bed, so I put this together. Sorry if it's rushed at the end.
| 2017-04-28T23:00:04
| 2017-04-28T22:28:44
| 1,102
| 189
|
[WP] The aliens who captured you have determined that the fate of mankind will depend on the outcome of a competition that will pit you against one of their champions. They sit you in front of a board and explain the rules of their traditional game. You're shocked to recognize the rules: it's chess!
|
"-so those are the rules. The game takes place on an 8x8 board and the pieces are initially arranged in the position you see on screen now. As this is a traditional game, both teams will be awarded 90 of your minutes to play the first 40 moves, and 30 additional minutes to complete the game. Each side also will receive an additional 30 of your seconds each time a turn is completed. Now, are there any questions?"
Silence fills the room. T'chalek revels in it.
Xhezz, the ancient game of his people! The infinite complexity of the Xhezz board is the great equalizer for all thinking beings. No algorithm can solve it, no program can understand it, it's the truest stick by which to truly measure intelligence. Of course these primitives are silent, they can barely process what they just heard! Of course, being a proper Xhezz-playing gentleman T'chalek didn't voice his opinions, being prideful was far *far* beneath the likes of him.
"Er, yes, just one question." One of the creatures eventually pipes up. "The fate of humanity is to be decided in one game against your champion, da? Then why have you selected the five of us?"
"A fair question. Of course, we Temmen are not unfair, nor unreasonable. We acknowledge that our experience in this game does give us a *slight* edge against our opponents. As a way of levelling the playing field we completely randomly selected five candidates from your species to play our champion. All of you may combine your thoughts and ideas, though still only one move may be made per turn.
"Randomly selected? We were *randomly* selected?" another voice pipes up.
"Indeed. In order to ensure that no bias is given to the game, we completely randomly select all five candidate players. Some of you may be bright scholars, or simple laborers, we honestly don't know. The only criteria is that at least one of each sex of your species must be present, as well as at least one child. This is to ensure we are testing the full range of capabilities of your species."
Of course, all this talk of fairness was complete hogswash, though he didn't expect these dirty creatures to catch it. What was important was that at least a show of fairness was perceived, it made things much easier later on when they inevitably revolted and needed to be 'pacified'.
"Are there any other questions?"
"Yeah. Uhh, how does, the ummm, Xnight move again please?"
A common question. Primitives often struggled to conceptualise how the Xnight was able to jump around. Though quiet snickers went up around the room as T'Chalek explained. What about this was funny? Clearly the severity of the situation had not yet sunk in, that alone spoke volumes about the intellectual level of this primates.
"Do you need me to re-explain the In Passing rule again as well, or are you all ready?" T'Chalek growled, somewhat annoyed at apparently not being taken seriously.
"No no no I think we've heard enough, thank you for your explanation T'Chalek. This "Xhezz" game seems quite interesting. If I'm not mistaken I believe we should all be ready to play."
More snickers.
Well, let's see who's laughing after hours of gruelling mental warfare! After all, Xhezz speaks for itself!
"Very well then! I will now introduce our champion! A master tactician and strategist like no other, Universal Xhess Champion for the last 12 \[1.3 years\], I present Mr. Feebe Golokt'chiesta!"
A small, slender figure slunk from the shadows and sat across from the five candidates. He nodded briefly to each, recognising them as opponents as any proper Xhezz player should. "For what it's worth," he said "I'll try to make it quick. I'm sorry."
"Silence Feebe. Just do what you're here for. Now, Mr. Nepomniachtchi, Mr. Carlsen, Mr. Nakamura, Ms. Polgar, and Mr. Praggnananandhaa, are you all sure you're ready?"
The five chess grandmasters nodded together, before sharing a glance at one another and approaching the board where Feebe had already made the first move; e4.
"For what it's worth," Hikaru Nakamura said, "Nothing personel, kid."
&#x200B;
Thirty minutes later, a pale and shaking Feebe was found huddled in a corner muttering deranged ramblings about "juicers" and "the wooden shield".
We left the Humans alone after that.
|
The alien (who looked nothing like any of the alien species depicted in the media that I saw) was rather surprised at how unenthusiastic I was when he announced it.
"You don't seem to care that we can destroy your planet?"
"Look, pinning its fate on me is a horrible idea as is, but if you pay close attention to the media of our planet you'd know it would be a mercy at this point. But fine, whatever, let's get this over with."
I sat down in front of a smug creature, I could tell it was smug because it had two faces (one on top of the other no less) and both were smirking at me.
I listened to the rules, but honestly I've forgotten most of the rules of Chess, since the last time I played them years ago, when I was like in 6th grade, with my grandfather. And watching that one short video a few weeks ago. The video was still fresh in my memory, and I figured... what's the harm? It's not like I'm dooming the planet or anything.
As the courtesy, I got white pieces.
"Begin!"
I sighed and moved Queen's pawn forward by one. This prompted lots of sneers from the audience, clearly they expected something better.
My alien opponent grinned and moved Bishop's pawn forward by one in response, taunting me.
I was sleepy and tired, they yanked me off the street when I was on my way home from work, and hoped it showed on my face when I moved King's pawn forward by two, prompting my opponent to move Knight's pawn forward... by two.
There were murmurs of approval in the crowd, and the alien
My face must've betrayed what I was thinking, since one of the faces got its smug look knocked off, as I sent the Queen diagonally, across the board, towards the side, giving her a perfect path to capture the King.
"Check... mate," I announced and stood up. "Do I get anything else from you aside from keeping my planet intact? Some genetically and visually compatible female partner, medical treatment at least? Medical enhancement at most? Maybe a computer that can run games from my planet? No? Okay... Where is the exit?"
| 2022-11-12T22:56:11
| 2022-11-12T19:26:59
| 255
| 185
|
[WP] There's a knock on your door. You open it to see your favorite book character standing there. They say, "I know this may be a lot for you to take in right now, but you have to listen very carefully; You are my favorite book character, I know how your story ends, and I need to change it."
My first time posting here. Hope I did everything right!
|
A knock on the door, soft, yet urgent. I glance through the window, and can scarcely believe my eyes; I open the door.
Her standing there, with her long white hair, boggles my mind. She can't be, this must be someone playing a trick on me, yes?
Sensing my confusion, she speaks, "I know how what you're thinking, this must be a lot for you to take in right now, especially after last night, but you need to listen to me very carefully. You are my favorite book character, I know how your story ends, and I came here to change it."
"Me? Book? But...you..." I stammer, stunned like the proverbial deer in the headlights.
"We'll talk about it later, there's no time. Now, come," she says, as she takes me by the hand, and maneuvers me outside. Outside, where I see...something *much* too large to be a prop. I pinch myself, and it hurts.
This must be real; this must be actually happening.
I climb on alongside her, and away we go. As we approach what is quickly becoming clear is our first target, her purple eyes flash, and she intones "You will have justice." I've come to my senses enough to ask her one question: "Can I say it?"
"Of course," she responds with a smile.
*"****Dracarys****."*
|
Looking into the eyes of the seemingly ordinary boy, i chuckled, it sounded crazy and it looks crazy to attempt to comprehend how any of it could happen or work yet it is happening, insanity may play it's part here but i shall entertain the thought of this being a reality, i look at his worried expression and ask "what if i want to fail?"
The boy shook his head quickly and shouted "your story hasn't begun yet! 'it' didn't happen yet!"
I looked at the boy in pure confusion but it makes sense, if he read a book about a boringly ordinary person then he'd never like it, what if..... something as big as world destruction will happen? if such a big event was happening and no one was aware of comparatively large scale dangers ahead then the casualties will be endless, but i, survived for some time before i died or failed to accomplish my goal and he came to fix that, very interesting indeed....
Looking at the boy more closely now i ask "then how do you plan to help me change my fate?" this dialogue might sound unnatural for anyone to accept madness directly thrown at your face but listening to someone is easier than making conclusions and denying everything
The boy's emerald-like eyes sparkled before he pointed at the sky and said "it's happening now!"
i looked at and saw the sky, it was cracking, the ground was shaking and last but not least, i felt sick to my stomach for corpses were floating up towards the sky and entering the cracks in the sky as some ant-sized dots fell down from afar, i tried to focus and see them closely until one of them fell in front of me
It was a monster, an inhuman being that had nothing but bloodlust in it's eyes and it was the size of my house, i was supposed to fight or escape from this thing? this has to be a joke.....
| 2019-05-19T21:49:32
| 2019-05-19T18:32:26
| 300
| 42
|
[WP] As a dad, you obviously have a mug that claims you're the "#1 World's Best Dad". One day, you find on the news that all "Best Dad Mugs" now have actual ratings, the media is crazy about it, a photo shows a mug with #5,826,827 World's Best Dad on it, curious, you check yours. It still says #1.
|
My son Max and I were watching Paw Patrol (his favorite show) and eating bacon (our favorite food) when a "special news announcement" came up on the screen. I couldn't believe it, people were being ranked and rated based on their best dad mugs... It wasn't long after that I got struck with a memory...
My dad was sick a few years ago. When the illness hit, I knew it wasn't going to be long till he moved on. Just before the last time I saw him I stopped at the gift shop in the hospital and saw "Best Dad" on a mug. I figured it would cheer him up so I bought it for him. Unfortunately, when I arrived at his room he had just passed away. I didn't have a chance to give him the mug.
When that memory struck me, I remembered I kept the mug in my dresser. I didn't think of it often but I knew I still had it. I figured I would check it out and see what the fuss was about.
I looked in my dresser and found the mug. At first it didn't have any ranking on it, but I slowly saw something start to form on it. It was blurry, but as it came into focus I saw "#1 Best Dad"
I was confused... "I don't get it" I said to myself. That was when Max came into my room, wagging his tail with his mouth open wide, looking up at me with his brown eyes and his floppy ears with bacon grease in his fur.
To him, I was the best dad ever.
|
A wave of regret washes over me as I think back to the day I stole the mug from a co-worker. It makes me think back to all the times I have failed as a father. I decide right then and there to make things right. I grab my son and apologize for making many mistakes. He just looks at me blankly and tells me it's ok and gives me a hug. I promise him I will do better and take home with me and together we go to Jim's house to return the mug. When we arrive Jim greets us warmly and invites us in. I explain to him about the mug and give it back. My son and I then leave and are headed to the car when Jim comes running out yelling and waving the mug. He comes up to me and shows me that it now says # 2,546,987 dad. I look at him confused, and he hands me the mug back. We both watch in amazement as the numbers blur out and vanish and slowly the number 1 fades into view. Jim looks at me and says "I guess it was meant for you after all. I look at Jim and say how can this be? I've made tons of mistakes, including stealing your mug. Jim smiles at me and says we all make mistakes some of us are better at doing right by our kids than others after a mistake. I looked at my son who simply smiled at me, and in that moment I could see in his eyes why the mug said I was #1.
| 2019-10-02T22:09:48
| 2019-10-02T16:01:46
| 765
| 251
|
[WP] You work for a future non-profit organization. Your job is to travel through time, visit people on their deathbed, and tell them about the incredible impact they have on the future.
This is only my second writing prompt. I'm glad people seem to like it!
|
"... and your charity work in the developing world leads to the United African Nations being founded in twenty years."
*That doesn't sound right*.
"You son, Jacob, goes on to..."
"Wait, wait. I don't have a son. And I've never done charity work in Africa either."
The strangely dressed woman stopped and consulted the electronic device she was carrying.
"Roger? Roger H. Smith?"
"... yes..."
"Roger Harold Smith?"
"No, I'm Roger Henry Smith."
"Oh" she consulted her device again. "*Oh.*"
"What? What does it say?"
"Oh. Nothing. Nothing. Just a case of mistaken identity. Have a good day Mr. Smith." She left the room in a hurry.
My forehead wrinkled in annoyance. The cardiograph continued to beep.
|
"I never get the fun ones Mr.Shankly." I declared after the files were passed out.
"Nonsense. You said you like being creative, what better than to make up how they changed the world? And that second one is the great-great grandmother to the president. Don't say I never gave you anything." Mr.Shankly dressed like a manager at Office Depot but he was relatively reasonable. I don't know how I'd delegate the assignments either. "Everyone get to work. A half hour per patient, shouldn't spend more than fifteen minutes actually talking to them, the rest is travel time as you well know. Now everyone have fun and-"
"make a legacy." The crowd responded. The wavy light blue door hissed and buzzed, it was in need of minor repairs but it still served its purpose. You simply typed in the Social Security Number of your patient and the US GOV Timedoor sent you to the building where the patient died. It never got down to the room.
I always sped to the door, I was third in line today. "Eleanor Roosevelt," the man in front of me dictated to the speaker on the door, then he keyed in the SSN. "Grant McVermont" said the girl I was still in love with, she wasn't privy to the knowledge though. I think watching her walk through the time door just before me might be the highlight of my job. "Tracy Foster" I said to the speaker before keying in 465-79-7988, if you really listened you could hear the pins realigning to send you back to the right time. The engineering of the door was amazing, even if it was janky at the moment.
Another day, another stinky early 21st century hospital. I headed to the receptionist's desk, thankfully those were present if you travelled to the 19th or 18th century you'd have to scour the rooms and ask each person. It was truly ridiculous. "Yes, I'm looking for my Grandmother, Tracy Foster?"
"Umm....room 482, the elevators are too your left and we also are currently offering a special on Starbucks coffee to all floor 4 visitors."
"Thanks, I'd rather not support our future overlords." The middle 21st century had an identity crisis where every industry was sponsoring every other industry. They had run out of ways to market and Starbucks, the future military industrial leader of the Northwest, started it all by marketing to various floors in hospitals. They'd eventually go on to build the first version of CoffeeNet, which was a bunch of coffee makers that decided to become sentient and weaponized the burning hot coffee to 'end the pain and suffering of terminal patients'. Those were not fun end of day tales, let me tell you. The coffee was delicious though. The elevator dinged that we were on the correct floor now.
She was at the end of the hall. I slipped on a white coat I found hanging on a nurse's station and kept strolling as casual as I could be. Room 482, I knocked after I opened the door. "Hello, Ms. Foster?"
"Uh...huh hi." I had woken her up, it'd be worth it for her hopefully.
"I'm Dr. Rancor, I just wanted to give you some....family news. I know you aren't feeling too well and we've talked about your time being short so I've...traveled...to tell you something I think you'd like to hear very much."
"Oh is it about Johnny, he's such a sweet boy." She said, her eyes could barely open.
"In a manner. He's busy working very very hard to build a new computer system. But we just heard word that his girlfriend and he are engaged. I can't tell you how I know this but their son's son will be an amazing man. He carries a photo album around with him, and you're in. He loves to read letters you sent to Mr.Foster when you all were dating. The family has had them framed, actually they'll be framed in about a month. Your great great grandson, the one with the photo album, would you like to know what he does?"
"Why mister...I can't believe any of this. But continue, at least its more entertaining then that Reddit thing my son has me logged on to." She said, still not facing him.
"He is the president of the United States. His employees, when they present him with an idea that he dislikes he always says, 'That's the grits but where's the cheese?'" That would get her.
"Oh my...that's my, how could you know that? My son will tell you everytime, I'd say that to him every single time he'd lie to me. Its...its my saying." He could see the stars in her eyes. He could also see her pulse slowing substantially. He needed to be out of there before the real Dr.Rancor showed up. I glanced down at the file in my hand for something else to give Mrs.Foster.
"I was sent to tell you that, and a little more. Now, have a good rest of your morning alright? And don't be scared, you've done great things. Like that quilt you sent to the homeless shelter? It's warming the future CEO of Dare to Care food drive as we speak. Goodbye Mrs. Foster, say hello to Mr.Foster for me." I slipped out just in time, once I was around the corner, the sound of death filled the air in the form of a beep. The nurses rushed over to her room and I sat the coat back on the counter. Maybe I should ask 'girl in front me everyday' out.
I quickly found the nearest supply closet and twisted the ankle guard that called in the portal. Sure enough, the supply door began to glow that familiar hue of light blue and I was back in the office, like nothing had happened. It was going to be a better day than I thought.
| 2015-06-02T11:08:57
| 2015-06-02T09:13:56
| 22
| 15
|
[WP] Suddenly, you hear alarms go off in the bank as a group of masked men start shouting at everyone to get on the ground. You grip your backpack filled with money tighter and hope they don't learn you already robbed this place blind with no one noticing.
|
**Listen up! I'm the head robber and I'm in charge here. Probably a mistake to use my voice because now you know what I sound like. (cockney accent) Or do you? (German accent) You vill never learn zee truth! (normal voice) And so on. You! You there, with the backpack and wearing a ski mask.**
Me?
**What's your name kid?**
I'd rather not say.
**Smart! I mean, maybe not so smart. It's 93 degrees outside and you're wearing a ski mask. You don't see that much, outside of stealing stuff. Look, I don't recommend my line of work but should you ever, you know, fall by the wayside, I'd like to recommend this disguise.**
What disguise?
**See? It's ingenious. (Claps hands together.) Now then, tellers, I want you--**
Excuse me, could I leave?
**What, now? Come on, kid. You leave after we leave plus that laying down and counting to one hundred business. Have you ever seen a bank robbery movie?**
Of course! Too many, perhaps.
**I like you kid. Sure, I'll let you leave. Just curious though, what's in the bag?**
The bag? (looks down) Uh... Urine sample. Doctors appointment. I may have a UTI and yeah, doc's like "you know the drill" but I don't because Im only fifteen and this has never happened to me. So can I go?
**Sure, kid. Now get out of here! That looks like a really big sample.**
I drink a lot of Big Gulps.
**Probably what gave you a UTI in the first place. (laughs) I kid. My first job was at a 711. That's where I got the idea to steal from people. It's so much more profitable.**
It sure is. Bye, Mister! (runs out)
**That kid sure seemed nice. (turns to camera to address the reader). You know that bank robberies are bad, but you know what's worse? A urinary tract infection. Folks, be careful out there. If you have pelvic pain, an increased urge to urinate, or see blood in your urine, call your doctor. Please. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a bank to rob (turns, walks back to teller window with a smile).**
EDIT: added a few lines
|
Brandon Filch clutched his backpack to his chest. Only a little farther and he would be free. It had worked. His plan had worked. Months spent pouring over every single detail. Countless hours of research and preparation. And he had done it, well, not quite. All he had to do now was walk out of the bank.
Act natural. He took a deep breath and slung his backpack over his shoulder. As he stepped out of the office his tension melted away. People were lined up in front of the tellers, moving to and fro occupied in their own little world and not paying any attention to Brandon. Business as usual.
He smirked as he approached the door and looked back at the building that had set him up for life. He looked at the countless flaws in their security, the government officials signing off on the new shipment of bills and all the people depositing their money in one easy to rob place.
A gunshot. Brandon was pushed to the floor. Blood draining from his face as he came even with the now lifeless eyes of a security guard, whose hand was still holding his pistol.
Carla Verden looked down at the scrawny kid, contempt written all over her face. “Everybody on the ground” she yelled, punctuating her statement with several more shots into the guard. “Nobody do anything sudden, or else” All eyes were drawn to the growing puddle of blood. “This is what you might call a robbery. So do as we say and only some of you will get hurt.”
Brandon cursed under his breath. Hunched in the corner of the room they had been stuffed in he desperately tried to think of a plan. Make a run for the front door? No. It was too late for that, he’d get shot before he even made it ten feet. Roof? Not unless he wanted to end up in police custody with two broken ankles. Basement it was. There were old tunnels running underneath the bank, but they had been sealed of centuries ago. He also needed to get out before they managed to open the vault. He guessed he at most 30 minutes. He’d need help.
Brandon stood up and approached the man guarding them. “S..sir? Could I speak to your boss?” The man raised his gun and the room took a collective breath. “I.I..I have information that could help you. As long as you don’t hurt anyone.”
The guard scoffed “How about I make you talk instead.” He grabbed Bradon by the collar and shoved him out of the room.
Brandon spat blood out of his mouth and looked across the desk at Carla. She was reclined with her feet propped up on a nameplate that read Regional Manager.
“Did you have to hit him?” she asked.
“He had a smug look on his face.”
“God forbid someone look at you. Close the door behind you” The sound of drilling became muffled as the guard slammed the door.
“So what’s this amazing information.” asked Carla as she lit a cigarette.
“I don’t think you should be smoking in here” said Brandon.
Carla laughed before taking a long drag. “Spit it out or rejoin all the little people praying that they get home to their families.”
“I’m an architect. There are tunnels beneath the bank you can use to escape”
Carla looked at him with a hard gaze“But...”
“It’s walled off. You’d need explosives to get through.” Brandon glanced down only in part faking his nervous behavior. If he wanted any chance of getting out of here she needed to take the bait.
Carla leaned back in her chair with smile on her face “And I take it I need you to point out exactly where to place my explosives”
Carla got up and opened the door. “George” she yelled. The man who had escorted Brandon over here quickly appeared. “Get the explosives. I’ve got a job for you”
Brandon watched as George finished placing the last of the explosives. He stood up and clapped his hands together.
“All done. You sure this is the right place?” He asked Brandon.
“Absolutely” said Brandon as he glanced at the clock. 5 minutes to go. “Could you get me my water out of my backpack right there.” Brandon gestured to his backpack leaning against the basement wall.
“Water sounds good. I think I’ll have some.” said George as he bent down to open the bag.
“What the-” Brandon kicked George to the ground, lunging for the rifle that George had propped against the wall. Brandon face planted into the ground as he felt an iron grip on his ankle. Brandon desperately reached for the rifle as he was dragged backwards.
George got on top of Brandon and started mercilessly punching him in the face. “You thought you could steal, from under OUR noses” Brandon felt the bones in his face crunch.
Brandon grabbed at George’s armored vest as George laughed at his sad attempts. “You just made the last mistake of your life.” Brandon spat blood into George’ face. “Hopefully not” He said as he found what he was grabbing for.
When the smoke cleared Brandon dragged his body out of the rubble. He grabbed his backpack with what money was left in it and began to walk down the tunnel, Not hearing the shouts of confusion from above over the ringing in his ears.
| 2017-06-28T19:09:08
| 2017-06-28T15:37:28
| 254
| 32
|
[WP] You live in a world where your soulmate is unable to hurt you, intentionally or otherwise. You are fighting in a war, when one of the enemy's knives harmlessly glances off you.
|
The Asulan war machine, the well-oiled beast which formed the empire’s backbone for its dominion across the vast lands it occupied, was premised on an intricate system of checks and balances. This was the secret to its formidable might. This allowed every individual Regiment to retain a generous degree of discretion, so that no matter how large the army grew, every cog, every unit remained nimble, agile, deadly.
It was this very system which, on the 40th day of the month of Alayas, accounted for Gerrand’s frothing, seething rage.
“Stand aside!” he yelled, and the guards on duty quaked in their boots, torn between their duty and their respect for the Northern Regiment’s second-in-command. Gerrand was a giant of a man, and he could have barrelled his way through to the war-room, but he caught himself at the last minute. It was bad enough that their Chief Commander was potentially corrupt, and the last thing he should do was overstep the boundaries himself.
“Soldiers! Remember our creed, Country Before Self!”
Gerrand’s invocation of the army’s core principle was enough to break the guards’ spirits. They sighed in unison, saluted as best they could, then lowered their spears, opening the door for Gerrand.
“Chief Commander Hathus!” Gerrand bellowed, as the twelve heads on the War Council swivelled to meet the interruption. “Is it true that you have ordered the Regiment to halt their assault upon the energy fortifications at Lyra’s Pass, and to retreat until further orders?”
“I have,” said Hathus calmly, as he stepped away from the planning maps at the head of the table.
“And is it true that you were leading the charge personally, yesterday, and that you sounded the retreat the moment you realised that your soulmate was on the other side of the fracas?”
“Yes, that is also true.”
The blood boiled in Gerrand’s veins. If he had not been diligent, if the shadow War Council he led had not been fully apprised of the situation by their informants seeded throughout the ranks, they would surely have missed this unforgivable betrayal by Hathus.
Gerrand had struggled to reconcile matters yesterday when words first reached his ears, but he was convinced after the fourth independent eyewitness report corroborated the blackened state of affairs. Hathus, at the front of the assault team, had valiantly fought through wave after wave of the enemy, when a Kurlis battleknife had flown through the air, connecting directly with his neck.
Seconds after, once Hathus had ascertained that he was unscathed from the otherwise lethal wound, he had immediately signalled the retreat, cutting short what should have been an unmitigated success of a military incursion.
“Choose your words wisely, my Chief Commander,” said Gerrand, the disappointment threatening to crush his heart. This was not just his superior, this was the man he had chosen to follow into war, into death. “I charge that you are no longer fit to lead this Regiment, on account of your inability to raise your hand against your Kurlis soulmate. How do you answer?”
This was Protocol 20, the failsafe which allowed commanders to be replaced when they were no longer fit to continue in their service. Commonly invoked when life-threatening injuries were sustained, but Gerrand had also heard of its employment when commanders miraculously found their soulmates on the other side of the fence. The Asulan army recognised that not all men could overcome the callings of the heart, thus was Protocol 20 forged.
How cruel the gods are, thought Gerrand, that they would decree soulmates unable to hurt each other, and that love would be dangled so tantalizingly out of reach amongst the horrors of the battlefield?
“You have no answer - very well. By the provisions of Protocol 20, I hereby relieve you of your command of the Northern Regiment. Turn over all your plans, I shall immedia-”
“Hold on,” piped up another member of the War Council, a puzzled look on his face. “You’ve got it wrong. Hathus is not declining to complete the assault.”
“He speaks the truth, Gerrand,” said Hathus, crossing his hands behind his back. Suddenly, he seemed to Gerrand to look much older than his forty years, as if unseen weights had suddenly come to bear on him. “Don’t you see? The Krulis would surely be aware of the same thing now, that the leader of their enemy is soulmates with one of their own. Any further ground assaults will be fruitless, for those monsters will surely capitalize on that fact to exploit me, weaken me. For all you know, they would compel whoever my soulmate is to face me on the battlefield, beseech me to stop.”
Nothing seemed to make sense, and Gerrand's head suddenly ached. “So then… but the retreat…”
“The retreat is so that we can employ long-range bombardment, Gerrand, and we don't want our forces to be caught in the fray,” said Hathus, pointing to the many missives strewn across the table. “Long-range bombardments are always costly, and slow, and we have to be circumspect in their employment. But there is no luxury of choice here. The trebuchets we have summoned will arrive tomorrow, at the crack of dawn, and they will rain righteous fire on the Krulis forces from afar. Gods willing, I will not be anywhere close when the Krulis forces are destroyed.”
A lump had formed in Gerrand’s throat, but he pressed on. “But… your soulmate… Asulan law requires you only to step aside when you face your soulmate… there is no need for you to do… this…”
Hathus stared straight back, and though his eyes were brimming, for he had never known love in the entirety of his life, and now most certainly he never would, there was a curiously determined glint in his gaze, speaking of a depth of steel, and resolve.
“Aye, Gerrand. But I am the Chief Commander of the Northern Regiment, and always, always… Country, Before Self.”
---
/r/rarelyfunny
|
I was used to killing.
You have to be really, it's kill or be killed
you have to get those fucks first or it's game over
I was already covered with blood. Figuratively and literally.
My uniform was soaked from top to bottom, the brown fabric stained in mud, blood and vomit, the rain was definitely doing nothing to wash away the grime
My leaden feet thudded into the ground. Each step was agony but I knew I had to keep moving.
No one likes a bullet through the skull after all.
I made my way to the crumbling building as fast as my legs would take me, squeezing my trigger as I pelted across the drenched ground
The last two shots disappeared into the night. I didn't care if they found a target anymore, I just needed to get inside, to stop moving for just a second.
I released the pistol from my waxen fingers, and drew my knife.
It hurt to move my fingers now. The cold downpour caused every single muscle to ache
I crashed through the broken door, knife held forward, but I stopped abrubtly when I saw the face
Angry?
Pained?
Surprised?
She was scared more than anything, I suppose
I looked down at the blade pressed against my own chest, in against heartbeat I noticed the steel was bent harmlessly across my skin
I smiled.
Yes. I smiled, in a war zone.
I was drenched, cold, sick, fatigued. But I smiled because I knew I'd finally found my soul mate.
I didn't care that she was technically a part of the enemy.
My hand felt warm.
Warm?
Why is my hand warm? I remember thinking
Then I saw the blood. Her blood. Trickling from where my own knife has plunged through her heart
She crumpled at my feet
------------
This is my first ever response to a prompt! I'm on mobile so please forgive typos and formatting
Thanks OP, I hope I did ok
Any feedback is appreciated
| 2017-04-22T04:06:02
| 2017-04-22T02:24:17
| 482
| 58
|
[WP] a popular children's TV show that generally follows a basic template suddenly has a horrific and disastrous turn in the plot
I.e. Doc mcstuffins can't fix one her her beheaded toys...and go
|
Fred dug his fingers into the scalp of the gorilla costume.
"And now to find out who was really scaring everyone away from the jungle resort," said Fred.
"I bet it was old man Clemmings," said Daphne.
"I-I-I hope it's not a real gorilla," said Shaggy.
"Oh Shaggy, don't be silly," said Velma.
Fred tugged at the fine hair of the gorilla but it wouldn't move. He placed the bottom of his heel on the gorilla suit's back but still the mask shifted slightly from the force. Fred's ascot went damp from the sweat of his strain.
The gorilla turned its head and lashed out at Fred, but the chains around its arms kept it firmly stuck to the tree.
"It's a real gorilla," said Fred. When he finished speaking, his mouth stayed slack from the shock.
The gorilla continued to struggle, the clink of chains ceased when it broke free. It charged toward Fred.
"Ruh-roh!" yelled Scooby.
The gang scattered. The gorilla chased after Fred, it grabbed him by the ankle and threw his head into the odd rock and tree before smacking him one last time. Bruises and bleeding on Fred's face, his leg snapped in a hideous shape. The gorilla stormed off on its fists and feet.
"Jinkies! Are you okay Fred?" said Velma.
"Yeah, I'm just glad that guy stopped monkeying around!" replied Fred.
The gang all laughed.
|
"That was fun," said Mary, giggling. She and Caleb were still catching their breath from the Wacky Wormhole game. "Now it's time for questions from viewers like you."
Caleb fished through a large sack and pulled out an envelope. "This one's from Hiram, in Fairbanks," he said. "Dear Caleb and Mary, how do I get a job as one of the hosts on KidsTime with you two?"
Mary and Caleb laughed. "Great question, Hiram," said Mary. "Study hard, eat your vegetables, and come to our auditions in June."
Caleb opened another letter. "This letter is from Esther in Anchorage. Dear KidsTime, have either of you been promised?" Caleb shook his head. "Not yet, but my parents say it should happen soon."
Mary's smile disappeared. "I have. My parents promised me to one of my father's friends after his wife passed away."
Caleb didn't seem to pick up on his co-host's distress. "Congratulations, Mary!" He pulled out another letter. "Isaiah in Juneau asks, I've got a KidsTime challenge for you. Name every one of the United States in less than a minute."
Mary was smiling once again. "Ooh, that's tough. Well, there's Alaska, of course," said Mary.
"Right," said Caleb. "And Zone 15, Zone 18, and...I know I'm forgetting something."
"The Forbidden Zone," said Mary. "And that's all of them, I'm pretty sure."
"Great job, Mary. Well, that's all the viewer questions for this week," said Caleb. "Please tune in next week and keep sending in your questions. And until next time..."
Caleb and Mary both stood up straight and put their hands on their hearts. "...Hail Paul, our glorious protector."
| 2015-05-17T09:59:02
| 2015-05-17T08:35:42
| 43
| 23
|
[WP] “There are three things all wise men fear: the sea in storm, a night with no moon, and the anger of a gentle man.”
A Quote from the Kingkiller Chronicles by Patrick Rothfuss
|
My name is Nathanael Osmond Durant, son of Mary and Michael Durant, nostromo of the Buonaventura II, and this is my dying confession. I write it now, while the air congealing into great snowflakes has not yet turned my fingers blue, or my eyes glassy, while the last tide still beats at the foot of this rocky, cavernous outcrop instead of swallowing it whole in foaming anger, while there is yet life beside my own in this wretched valley that we used to call home.
I write not so that my sins be absolved, for they are many and great indeed, and the most recent is the greatest sin that could be, and beyond forgiving. I write not for my successors, for how could there be any, after the events that transpired?
I write, and I am amazed myself at writing this, in hope. As a shipwrecked man would cast a bottled letter to sea, I will be leaving this account, wax-sealed in the oilskin case of my astrolabe (a wonderful, compact model I bought from Amsterdam ere six months, a lifetime ago in another world). I hope some sort of creature endowed with reason, and a soul, will find it, and learn from it, and remember.
There are three things all wise men fear: the sea in storm, a night with no moon, and the anger of a gentle man. I am not wise. I foolishly braved the first, foolishly forgot about the second, and foolishly provoked the third. This, then, is my tale, and I swear, for all that my word may be worth, that I saw the old gentleman weep as his trembling hands traced doom and untold horror in the wet sand.
|
As I walk through the fields of ash and fire I shudder, did I actually do this?
All of this? Death... because they took everything from me?
I shudder and fall to my knees, sobs wracking my frame.
It's not right, what I did.
A scream tears me out of my thoughts, a person! I have to help them.
I rush towards the sound and see a young child burned and scarred.
"Are you alright young one?" I ask reaching my hand out with a smile on my face.
The child starts looking at me with eyes that were slowly widening in fear and horror.
"Monster!" The child screams face full of pain and tears, "Demon! Get away from me! Don't hurt me!"
I startle and retract my hand, his words hurt.
"My child, I am no monster I-"
"Liar!" The child screams shrilly, "I saw you! The look on your face as you trapped everyone in the town hall! The look on your face as the hall erupted in flames! You have no remorse for their deaths!"
I shake my head in denial, "That is not true! I do have remorse for their deaths!"
The child's face then morphs into an angry scowl, "Then why are you smiling?"
I bring my hands up to my face and touch my lips.
A smile.
Why am I smiling?
| 2017-04-14T04:29:54
| 2017-04-14T00:03:12
| 25
| 18
|
[WP] The technician takes off your Virtual Reality helmet. The entire life you've experienced has been a virtual reality simulation of your ancestor. The technician looks at you and asks, "did you find out what you were looking for?"
|
"Did you find what you were looking for?"
I look at the tech. His name is Bob. I remember, in a vague sort of way (like you'd remember the name of the chick you went home with the night before after too much whiskey), I thought his name was outdated and silly before the VR helmet... I was so wrong. Bob. It's a good, solid name. Also, it's spelled the same both forwards and backwards. And it's kind of fun to say. Try it now. Bob.
Coming out of an intense virtual reality experience is... Well, it's all a lot like waking up after too much whiskey. For a moment, you aren't sure where you are, how you got there, or what your name is... Maybe you'd feel anxious if you didn't have a raging headache or feel like your mouth is stuffed with cotton balls. Then you see a glass of water, sigh with relief, and it all starts coming back to you, however hazy.
What was I looking for again? Ah... Yes. That's it. "Yes, Bob. I did. I learned to write cursive... Which means I can now read the ancient texts and save the planet."
Bob smiles. His shoulders relax visibly. "Glad to hear it. I was worried for a moment."
"Love your name, by the way."
|
"Sir, it's time, you're going to have to say goodbye now." Ralph hated that nurse, she was so young, ful of life, and way too impatiant on pulling the plug on his wife. It's always the night nurses who are the most detatched from basic human emotions
"Please, just five more minutes, don't do it yet." He could barely recognize his own voice from how flat and defeated it sounded in his ears.
The nurse let out a sigh, fished a pack of smokes out of her pocket, and walked out of the room. The dim light above the bed made his wife look like a withered experiment, tethered to this mortal coil with a series of tubes, wires, sticky pads, and a machine that was breathing for her. He just wanted a few more minutes, five more wonderful minutes of praying and hoping against all hop that his wife would wake up.
Five minutes.
Ten Minutes.
Fifteen.
The nurse came back, it was time, Ralph kissed his wife on the forehead and walked out, he couldn't see her body die even though her brain had long ago. Down the hallway, a left turn, another hallway, a nurse's station, a small waiting room, a lot of empty seats. Ralph sat down and let a few tears fall.
A different nurse came by with a single box, in it was his wife's wedding ring, cellphone, pocket change, lipstick, bottle of perfume, and a small scrap of paper. Ralph unfolded the paper, on it in neatly typed letters were the words *"did you find what you were looking for?"*
Ralph woke up in his own hospital bed, a technician repeated the line from the paper. He thought of his wife's face, eyes sunken in, skin loose, brain-dead for the better part of the summer.
"You have been sentenced to death by lethal injection Mr. Johnston, you are a monster, you poisoned your wife causing her to spend her last few weeks in a vegetative state needlessly suffering before she was removed from life support. If there is a hell, I hope you learn exactly what an enternity of torture is. Whether or not you feel remorse after the simulation will have zero bearing on your sentence. May God have mercy on your soul Mr. Johnston, the state most certainly will not."
| 2016-10-29T03:01:03
| 2016-10-29T02:36:19
| 25
| 18
|
[WP] Love is blind, but for you it's quite literal and you lose your sight every time you fall in love.
|
The first time was utterly terrifying, believe me.
Imagine walking into the classroom for your first day of sixth grade. You're natural upset about the end of summer vacation, but you're excited to be back with all of your friends. And then the new girl, Ashley, enters the room. Her family moved here from out of state a few weeks ago, according to your Dad. This morning, as he dropped you off, he told you to be nice to the new girl, because she'd have a hard time making friends. But there was no warning that she'd be the most beautiful girl you'd ever seen. And just as you're turning to your best friend to whisper about her... everything goes black.
Doctors couldn't figure out what was happening. Every optometrist in the state checked me out. They ran every test they could think of, and my eyes were perfectly fine. Brain too. Finally, after 2 months of treatments, they sent me back to school (now with Braille textbooks and homework). No one really knew how to treat me after that. During recess, I couldn't play tetherball with my friends anymore. Everything I did had to be changed. I was handled with kid gloves, and all of my friends hated that. The only real *upside* to going back was that I got to know Ashley. She was sweet, and kind, and caring, and gentle.... and eventually a seventh grader named Derrick figured that out too. She dumped me (on the school bus, no less) only a few weeks after we started 'dating' (by which I mean holding hands and doing our best to figure out kissing).
And just like that, my sight was back. Colors never seemed so bright. Textures never seemed so vivid! Everything I saw was like that first bite of food after starving for a week. Yet again, I was dragged into the doctor's offices to see if they could determine what had changed again. Still no sign of any damage or anything different. Mom proclaimed it a miracle, and bought a statue of the Virgin Mary to put in our front yard.
It happened again just a few months later when I first met Laura, who went to the private school nearby. Once again, I went through all of the tests and examinations, only to find nothing. And once again, my sight returned miraculously when I realized that she was actually kind of annoying. This time, it wasn't a sudden change: I began to see shades of grey, then shapes, then blurred images, until finally it cleared up for good right after I dumped her.
I didn't realize the association until midway through college, after my best friend pointed out that breakups always seemed to improve my vision. He said it jokingly while we were out at a bar, drowning my sorrows in beer after Martina cheated on me at a party. But once I sat back and really thought about it, I made the connection. And after that, I began putting it to my advantage. If I met a girl and didn't lose my eyesight, then I knew where we stood immediately. And, once I was *in* a relationship, I knew that it was time to get out as soon as I could start to see faces again.
Which brings us today. Melissa and I have been together for nearly five years. I've never told her about my particular 'problem.' She knows that I'm blind, and that maybe it will someday clear up again like it did in the past. She knows that the doctors still have no idea what causes it, but she *doesn't* know that I *do* know the cause. If she did know the cause, she would know that this time, it *will be* permanent. Which is why I really hope that she likes the ring currently hidden in my sock drawer. I have no idea what it looks like, but my best friend assures me that it's beautiful.
Back when I was young, it terrified me. I hated opening my eyes in the morning, knowing that it wouldn't make a difference: everything would still be dark. But now, it's comforting. I've been blind for half a decade, and I never want to see again.
|
With a jerk, I went sprawling all over the campus green. Shit, not again.
"Jesus, are you okay? What are you, blind or something?" The velvety voice appeared out of the darkness. God, it was so warm.
I reached up a hand, looking down. Either he was already holding out a hand, and I would grope for it, or he'd see my hand and offer his own. I'm very practised at blights of blindness.
A firm grip pulled me up, effortless.
"You know, you should check out my mixtape. It's fire, girl," he said.
The world sprang back into vision with a flurry of light and colour. Huh, that was easier than expected.
I picked up my battered bag and hurried homeward.
"Hey," the stranger called.
Twice in one day wasn't all that bad. Maybe it was best to avoid my roommate this evening, though.
***
check out /r/Hermione_Grangest, it's fire
| 2016-02-16T07:21:13
| 2016-02-16T06:58:01
| 79
| 34
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