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[WP] It is 2009. You are the one time traveler to show up to Stephen Hawking’s unannounced time traveler party. You are from 200 years in his future. You have to explain to him why he can never tell anyone you showed up.
|
Hello sir. Professor.
Yes, I'm here for the party.
Why yes, I am still human, we've ... had to make improvements. As a species. It's ...
May I sit down?
I can't stay long, it was a precondition of my being here ...
... oh yes, I would like one, thank you. I believe they're called 'sausage rolls', am I right? Good good. And I apply this ... red ... slurry ... oh, I see, much improved.
I wanted to tell, well show you, what we can achieve, even centuries from now. Applicable justification for someone who works primarily in the theoretical realm. To thank you for what we have done and what humanity can achieve based on the Now you created.
Also, why this must never go beyond this room.
Because you are one of the giants on which the future stand upon. If you mentioned that time travel was possible, you might be scoffed, Dismissed. Laughed at.
But you will be listened to.
The basis of time travel is based on centuries of work in a myriad of fields. Your mention might spur the acceleration of some of these fields of work, while ignoring other, lesser known but equally important areas.
And given the attention span for the general populace, even at this time ... it may very well cause time travel to be delayed. Or not created at all.
Yes sir, paradox.
We've dealt with one already. One too many.
It's worse than you can anticipate. It's the primary reason for my ... humanity's changed appearance.
Well, I won't take up any more of your time sir. It's an honour beyond ... anything I ca n say sir.
Good bye, and thank you.
What?
Oh yes, I would like to take some sausage rolls home. And that orange fizzy drink ...
|
I came out of the portal screaming. He was already there! He was already here! Zeb had the professor by the throat, choking the hero. He turned as my feet hit the ground and I was on him before he could say a word.
The professor lay helpless on the ground behind me and I knew if Zeb got free one of the greatest men of all time would die before his time. So I never gave him a chance.
Training... weapons... We had access to the best of both and fate of the future was decided with all the grace and finesse of a chimpanzee beating another into the ground; have we truly evolved at all?
Finally he lay still, I don't know how many blows it took or how long we fought but eventually I won.
Blood stained the Professor's clothes- I'd never forgive myself for that- as I eased him into his chair.
"What-was-that?" his mechanical voice was off-putting especially compared to the panic in his eyes.
I gulped air in, my throat was sore like I was about to cry. I probably was, if there was justice in this world this shouldn't have been necessary. "A madman professor." he started to select more words but I bulled on, words spilling out. "History was his playground, he altered so many events- he existed partially outside the realm of cause and effect. Jumping between timelines and creating more just to see new futures." I took a breath. "And just like there are infinite timelines, there are infinitely more of him. I'm sorry Professor but if you tell anyone what happened... More will have come. More than I or anyone could stop. So please Professor. You can't tell anyone. This can't have happened!"
"...Understood."
A giant breath that I didn't know I was holding broke out.
"Thank you, thank you Professor. I'll take care of the body you just relax and breath OK?"
"Why-do-you-do-this?"
"What?"
"If-there-are-infinite-realities-then-there-are-infinite-people. Any-person-or-persons-you-protect-there-are-infinitely-more-that-die-or-survive. What-point-is-there?"
"It's hard sometimes sir, no it's hard every second of every day but someone once said 'However bad life may seem, there is always something you can do, and succeed at. While there is life, there is hope.' I can't let him down."
| 2020-10-17T02:31:51
| 2020-10-17T02:23:54
| 2,384
| 134
|
[WP] Two suicidal people happen to meet on the same bridge to jump. Rather than joining together, they each try to convince the other not to jump while justifying why they themselves should jump.
EDIT: yes i'm well aware this concept has been done before many times in movies, books and music.
But that's exactly it: it's not original, so who cares? Let's let the awesome authors of /r/writingprompts have a crack at an old idea :)
|
The man shivered as he padded across the newly constructed bridge, clutching his jacket tightly. His whole life'd been one miserable failure after another. He hadn't managed to do anything right.
Being the first person to jump off this damn bridge would be the only memorable thing he ever did.
He froze. Another figure? Up at this hour? As he drew closer, the other man came into view. Poised on the edge of the bridge, it was clear the other man had planned to kill himself as well.
"Hey! What do you think you're doing?"
The figure froze, and started climbing down from the railing. "I.. I just..."
"Don't you dare do it."
"Why? My wife left me, my kid was hit by a truck, and I'm getting laid off tomorrow. I've never accomplished anything."
"So? No matter how much it hurts, you have to keep moving. I know what it feels like to lose people close to you. You know they wouldn't have wanted you to waste your life like this."
The other figure froze, and slowly nodded. "I get that you're trying to help, but I don't think I- Hey! What are you doing?"
"What, you thought you were the only one who wanted to do this?"
"Y-you just explained to me how important it was to-"
"...I don't have anything to live for. Everyone close to me died long ago - I've just been sort of... drifting for the past few years. Being the first guy to jump from here'll be the only thing I ever do right."
"...You have got to be kidding me. Look at you! You're young and healthy! I'm old - would have died in a few years anyway. Never accomplished anything either. There'll be more chances and more bridges for you, kid. I won't live to see the next one."
Both figures stood in silence for a while. "We can both be the first ones to jump from here, you know."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
The younger man scratched his head. "You know, maybe I wo-"
A naked, screaming man ran between them - needle marks covered his arms, and his teeth were rotten and decayed. Without slowing, he sprinted off the edge of the bridge. Several seconds later, they both cringed at the splash.
"Are you fucking-"
"Goddammit."
-------------
Questions? Criticisms? Want to see more? Check out more of my stuff at /r/Draxagon
|
His feet were shaking to the point of throwing the man over on their own. But what nearly shook him off the rail was the person in the corner of his eye. A glance to the left revealed a short, soft figure with matted red hair stuffed into the dark hoodie they had on. He was within Olympic long jump distance of them, another soul on the verge of their death. And it gave him the most unreal pleasure.
"Hey!" he yelled in their direction.
Big, dark eyes glanced back in a rebuttal of desperation. In those eyes he saw his own soul. The thoughts that seemed too cheesy for the monthly Lifetime movie were racing across his mind as a means of justifying her not to jump. Someone so beautiful deserved so much better than this.
"Did you not see me as you climbed up here?" he asked.
She couldn't speak. Just glanced back and forth from the river below to his eyes.
"Hey! Maybe you should ... ugh ... maybe you should think this through."
On the edge of her breath she replied," Look who's fucking talking."
"Tell me why you're up here."
She paused. All emotion left her face. All fear. And a laugh started - quiet and reserved but holding so much back.
"You don't need to know anything."
"Why not? Please, let's just talk."
"Just jump and get it over with please. The longer you wait, the longer you'll be concerning yourself with someone you shouldn't have to care about." Her hands were clinging to the wire supports. Each finger was ruffed and dirty. But her smallest fingernail on her right hand had some color to it.
"Listen. You're saying that if I jump, then you will too."
"What?"
"Well, once I go, then you might not have anyone else to stop you."
"Please just go."
"Wow. You're a really troubled woman, aren't you?"
"Shut the fuck up! The last thing I needed was someone getting me down from here."
"Well I'm up here too darling, so I'm probably the only person in a 50 mile radius who is having some of the same thoughts as you right now."
Suddenly, her hood was blown off by a gust from under the bridge. And with it came her hair. The thin curtain of red floated over to him as he reached his hand out.
"I'll keep this with me just in case you don't come back."
"You're ruining this for me, man!"
"How about we tell the other our reasons for what led us here, and then you decide who goes."
"Are you fucking retarded? Get the fuck out of here!"
"Okay, I'll start."
"Please stop..."
"...I'm a drug addict. It doesn't hurt to say it anymore. But I thought that maybe that meant I didn't have to try anymore."
The cold breeze from the bay sent a chill up her body. "Oh shit!!"
"What?"
"Nothing. Nothing. It's just really fucking cold."
"And I'm the retard?"
"Listen man! You are really starting to piss me..."
"...tell me your reason."
"Oh god."
"What's the worse that could happen?"
She cleared her throat. Almost unable to let any words go, a whisper appeared. "I'm dying."
"I'm sorry?"
"I'M FUCKING DYING!!!" Her anger echoed far into the mist. "Everyone's telling me it'll be okay. Everyone is fucking fake about this treatment shit. I'm sick of feeling nauseous every fucking minute of the day."
The wind whipped against his face and brought his teeth to a chatter.
She looked ready to jump off head first but said, "Now you've got your stories. So who do you think should go?"
"I'm not gonna make you jump without thinking about it."
"Oh shut the fuck up! Your head is so far up your ass. You're only up here looking for someone like me to pull you down and bring you to a diner down the straight and marry you and blah blah fucking bullshit!"
He became stoic. "Listen, you look young, so I'll give you the benefit of the doubt. You think people give a shit about me? No one has cared about me for years. And you've got everyone there for you. If I had what you had then I would get off that rail and walk your sick ass back to your family and friends."
"What the fuck is your..."
"You have NO IDEA how many miles I've walked without shoes, without water, without a voice to console me every now and then. I know you're in a predicament here, and I am too, but I'm in your predicament now. And I'm gonna jump now, so maybe you should take my actions to heart and stop taking your life for granted."
He lifted his foot on his last word.
"Don't! Shit, please don't."
"Don't what?"
"Jump! Don't fucking jump!"
"Why shouldn't I?"
"Because...shit...because..."
"See? You have love. I think I'm here to show you that. And I'm glad I was here to see it occur before your eyes."
He took his foot off the rail and bent down back onto the walkway. She couldn't keep his eyes off him.
"Get off the rail. Just please take a breath and calm yourself down. It works for me every time."
And she reached her hand out.
| 2015-01-27T17:17:41
| 2015-01-27T17:06:38
| 699
| 53
|
[WP] Your parents never let you study magic. They said you were born without the ability. But after a friend jokingly dares you to apply to the top wizardry schools in the state, the denial letters read "We regret to inform you that someone of your potential is simply too dangerous to be taught."
|
I had a hard time believing it.
I re-read the letters, slowly. What potential were they talking about? As long as I remember, I never could do any magic.
Even in kindergarten, kids could levitate balls, play with dancing lights and animate snowmen. Granted, their spells fizzled quite often, but I never could lift a marble or conjure the smallest spark. All the kids in elementary school received basic courses on how to control cold and flame, mostly to avoid magic flareups. I always thought I had nothing to control.
Late in high school, we had to begin focusing on a particular aspect of magic. The exceptionally gifted could pick two fields, but the majority could only choose one field. Even then, most of them had to focus on a particular subset of that field. Fire Elementalism was a common choice due to the lower attunement requirement that left time to focus on more magics. That, and the harsh winters.
For me, the choice was easy: only the tech courses. No elemental magic, just physics. No spiritual magic, just mathematics. No enchantments, just computers. The fun thing is that non magical courses didn't need magical attunement, so I had all of the tech courses.
"Maybe that was the potential they were talking about. I have, technically, infinite potential since I have no magical competence", I said out loud, then laughed at the seriousness of my tone.
​
Then it struck me. Revealing to a dangerous apprentice his potential could have disastrous consequences. If it's so unwise, why did they mention it? The glowing seals on the three letters were official; it wasn't a prank. I put the letters in front of me. It didn't make sense.
Now that I began thinking about it, the whole tech courses didn't make a lot of sense, either. Magic was so prevalent that technology was seen as an eccentricity. Everything tech could do, magic could do easier, faster and more efficiently. All the history books mentioned technology as something of an afterthought, a curiosity, no more, no less.
The origins of Tech were unknown, as if it just popped into existence "magically". Some ancient wizards devoted decades into divining its origins. Once in a while, one would come with a new theory. Those were treated the same as tech: eccentrics bringing curious eccentricities to those with too much time on their hands.
​
Technology was a living contradiction, something existing in a world of magic, that can be affected - to an extent - by magic, and even when completely outclassed by magic, it could operate completely outside of it.
I realized that I was slowly drifting to sleep.
The last thing I saw was my desk, with the three denial letters.
"*We regret to inform you that someone of your potential is simply too dangerous to be taught*."
"Huh, all three letters contain the exact same phrasing", I thought to myself, just before closing my eyes.
My room faded away, and the Dream started.
​
It was a familiar dream. Always started exactly at the same spot as I fell asleep. Usually, nothing was exactly the same: some furniture was moved, or the ceilings were taller, or the walls were painted in other colours; or, like today, windows are on each wall, and on the ceiling, and on the floor. The major difference, today, is that the three letters are almost exactly as I left them in the waking world. I say "almost", because the seals are glowing brighter than anything I could imagine, yet they were perfectly readable.
|
"Dear Nina Larousse!
We regret to inform you that your level of FX aptitude is S+, and civilian academies are not allowed to accept S+ students according to the Private FX Training Act of 1959. We strongly advice you to await recruitment by a government institution. The government is aware of your existence, and you will receive a visit from the controlling officer in due time. Please do not try to evade the controlling officer.
With regret,
Cid H. Solomon,
Headmaster of Scintillus Private FX academy".
I received this letter when I tried to apply to Scintillus last year. I never hoped to be accepted, but the reason was a complete surprise to me: my mother has been always telling me that I was an F, that is, a perfectly ordinary teenage girl without a hint of FX aptitude.
"Mom! - I said and showed her the letter. - Why didn't you tell me?"
"I wanted you to have at least a normal childhood, Nina - she answered. - You are an S+. They do not have normal lives. The government takes them, brands them, keeps them on leash. You won't be treated as a human being when they take you. You'll be treated as a... thing. A highly explosive thing that is kept in a safe."
"When are they going to come?"
"Next year, when you turn 16. I was going to tell you the truth at your fifteenth birthday next month, but you managed to learn it all by yourself."
"Is there another way? Can I run to some place where they won't find me?"
"You can, Nina, you can. There is no FX control in the poorer countries, such as Kalidor and the Borean States. But you don't speak the languages, you can't fend for yourself. There's crime there, and bandits on the roads, and germs in the water, and slavers, and drug lords, and..."
I made a decision. I did not want to be a living weapon for the Westernican government, and I was sure about that. Whatever dangers might the wild Borean States throw at me, I had to prepare and face them. I found an old FX textbook, a backpack of food and a primer on the Borean language and hid myself on a cargo plane bound for the Borean capital, Reisnergrad.
* * *
Five years later
Borean Backwater
The old roadside cafe looked shabby, but then again, everything looked shabby on this road this side of the Green Mountains. The battered trucks peppered with bullet holes, the cracked tarmac worn by many frigid winters and hot summers, the rusty road signs. This was a poor region of a poor country, and I was thankful for that. No one hunted rogue FX protocolists here, and that's exactly what I was. The Borean States lost two cold wars to Westernica, and were forbidden to have FX weapons by the 2024 Articles of Disarmament.
The driver of the truck I hitched a ride on said farewell, and I wished him good luck. I was hungry. FX powers consume a lot of energy, and I had to use them yesterday to repel some raiders from that poor man's truck.
I entered the cafe. It was nearly empty. An overweight Borean woman was manning the counter. Funnily, I thought: counters and kitchens in canteens and cafes are the only place where you find Boreans that big: they are usually as skinny as lone wolves in a winter forest.
The big woman grumbled at me and offered the menu.
"Give me everything from here to here!" - I ordered, circling half of the menu with my finger.
* * *
From "Nina Larousse and the Figurine of Huggenheim", a book that will never be written
| 2018-11-10T22:39:37
| 2018-11-10T22:26:23
| 14
| 10
|
[WP] You are a necromancer's apprentice. One of your most important jobs is holding down the revived bodies in their first moments alive again, while they scream and beg to go back.
|
As I pressed hard on one shoulder, my master on the other, the cadaver struggled beneath our weight, the stitches coming loose around her lips with each consecutive moment of muffled screaming.
"Ugh, that *morning* breath!" the necromancer winced.
I was rethinking my life choices a lot at that moment. To sell my services to a necromancer for something so trivial in hindsight– I had to have been the most foolish young man in my lineage. He looked up at me and saw the anguish written on my face.
"Oh, don't tell me you're having second thoughts already! This is pretty much the worst part of this job, so bear through it with me." The abomination beneath us began to calm down, and the two of us gradually lifted our weight off of her. I let out a deep breath as she mumbled to herself and glanced around the room through panicked eyes.
"I'll be back in about ten minutes," he said as he pulled his gloves off and set them on the tray next to the table. "I'll be back with the coating soon, just don't let her leave."
"By *myself?*" I asked incredulously.
"Oh please, she used all of her strength just now," he retorted as he made for the door. "She's only *technically* alive. It'll be a while before her muscles will be able to work like that again. She won't move much, just babysit her, I'll be right back." He punctuated his request with the slam of the door, and I turned to look at her shriveled decayed corpse. The smell in the room was turning my stomach, and I wrestled with the thought of her "morning breath" being worse.
"Hey," she sounded someone who'd had their throat surgically removed. "Hey. Kid."
I swallowed and winced, keeping my distance from the table. I didn't want to converse with her. I didn't even know she'd be capable of complex thought. It was stupid of me to *assume* anything about a job like this.
"Hey. Get me outta heae," she spoke her sentences quickly as though it pained her to speak– and it most certainly did.
"Hey. Get me a glass o'watah."
"I don't have any," I caved. "No water in here. You don't need it anyways, you're dead."
"I'm not dead," she quickly shot back. "I'm alive again. It tucks and it hoits, but I'm not dead, ya gotta believe me."
It wasn't so much that she was speaking with an accent, but that she had no moisture in her throat and only about two teeth on opposite sides of her mouth.
"You *are* dead," I assured her. "Mister Uul just brought you back. I watched it happen."
"You gotta get me outta heae," she pleaded.
"Not gonna happen."
"Come on. Waddaya want? Money? I got money!"
"I can't let you go," I said firmly. "I'm sorry."
"I tuck ya dick," she offered.
I dry heaved.
"Come on, I'll do anyting. Not one ting off limits. Come on."
"Shut up!" I finally lost my temper. "I'm never letting you out of here, so just... I dunno, make peace with it! Just lay there and stay quiet."
After a long period of refreshing silence, she started again. "Hey."
"No."
"Hey kid."
"I said no."
"Kill me."
I turned slowly toward her and found her staring straight at me.
"... What? What did you say?"
"Kill me," she said again. "Please. I was wit my family. At de park. It was sunny. It was nice. Sandwiches. Te kids, te husband, de dog. It was nice. I'd do anyting to enjoy dat for just a little longae."
I glanced at the door and then back to her, "... I don't think I should."
"Come on," she pleaded. "He brought me back once. He can do it again, right?"
I couldn't really argue with that logic, but I still didn't want to. I fidgeted with my fingers as I rolled it around in my mind. It was my first day, and I didn't want to mess anything up too badly.
"Come on. Kid. Hey. Come on. I'm dead. Can't get much woise den dat."
I rolled my eyes and scanned the room for anything I could use to kill her for just a few more minutes. My eyes landed on some kind of surgical knife, and I grabbed it. I slowly walked over to the table she was laying on. Her big exposed eyeballs tracked me as I neared and it sent shivers down my spine.
"Yeehh. Dare ya go. Dat's it. Just send me back a little longea."
I swallowed hard and held the knife in both hands as I lifted it over her chest.
"Do it."
I inhaled sharply and plunged the knife into her chest. It didn't feel how I expected it to feel. It was like stabbing a bag of flour if you could imagine it. Stiff and dry with mild resistance.
"AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH" she screamed.
I jumped, dropping the knife on the floor and scrambling away from the table.
"AHHHHHH DAT HOIT!! DAT HOIT DAMMIT!!"
"B-BUT Y-YOU TOLD ME TO STAB YO-"
"I TOLD YA TO *KILL* ME, NOT HOIT ME!!"
"HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO DO THAT??"
"I DUNNO, I AINT TE DOCTAH, I TAUGHT YOU WEAE!!"
"I'm not a doctor!" I yelled as I picked the knife back up. "I'm just a kid trying to do the right thing here! Now hold still!"
I plunged the knife into her chest again and again as she screamed.
"OKAY, OKAY, TAAHP!! TAHP TABBIN' ME!" she screamed.
I retracted the knife and took a step back.
"We uhhh... we can figyuh dis out," she reasoned through labored breathing. "Les juss tink aboudis. You and me."
"I don't think you can die," I warned her. "We could just wind up hurting you more."
"Of couwas I can die, look at me," she argued. "I did it once, I can do it again."
I glanced at the door hoping the necromancer would come back so I didn't have to deal with this, but he was taking his sweet time.
"Okay!" she spoke after a brief silence. "Maybe uhh bass me in de head."
"What?"
"Bass me in de noggin! Hahd!"
"But what if I bash your head in and you're just... alive, but not able to talk?"
"Hmm... Good tinkin' dare, doctah."
"Not a doctor," I reminded her. "I've never done this before!"
"Do I look like I've done dis befowah?" she spat at me.
Suddenly the door swung open and the necromancer paced into the room. He was reading something out of a book and closed it as he neared the table. Relief swept over me as I stepped back.
"Well, I messed up the mixture upstairs," he said as he picked up a scalpel off the tray. "Sorry Miss, you're going back under for a bit. I'll see you tomorrow."
She turned her head at me and we made eye contact.
"Tanks for tryin' doctah," she managed to lift her dried lips into a smile.
I smiled back at her and waved discreetly.
r/A15MinuteMythos
|
Dusting the ash off my coat with a “*sigh*, another one.”
The boss nags from behind, “Esteban! We’re losing moonlight! Get a new body on the slab asap while I gather mana for the next spell!”
Blood rushes to my head “Old man this is the 12th one tonight how about calling it quits and trying again another day! You keep pumping the stiffs with mana and I get a bigger mess to clean up!”
“Silence boy!” The boss spits. “You’re 100 years too early to mouth off to me! I’ll have you know I’ve quite the pedigree in the dark arts!” He says proudly.
Furrowing my brow and hauling another body on the rune etched slab, “in destruction maybe but necromancy clearly isn’t your forte’ why don’t you stick to lightning bolts and fireballs and leave the stiffs to the pros? 100 years too late for a mid life crisis don’t you think?”
I turn around to a man at peace unlike the hate filled crone he was a second ago he’s praying, communing with mana to grant him power and give life to this wretched abomination.
Flakes of blue light gather in his hands. The wind gently swirls kicking up ash as it dances in the moons pale light shining down on the corpse.
It’s beautiful in a way if not for what happens next. I hear a spark and the smell of embalming fluid is overtaken briefly by the musty smell of rain.
I dive out the way onto the ground, a pile of ash softening my fall.
“POOOOOWEEER!!!!!” The old man shoots lightning from his fingertips onto the corpse.
“OVERWHELMING POOOOWEEEER!”, he amps the voltage. The runes ablaze with energy, and then the violent crackles are replaced by a melodious hum.
I get up to see the corpse still intact for a better lack of a term, a-little char here and there but not bad, not bad, major improvement. But had he done it, finally?
The Boss glides to my side hand on my shoulder “13th times the charm dear boy.” Excitement in his voice.
The corpses eyes jut open electric blue fills the irises with life. I dive toward it as it screams trying to break away from my hold.
The corpse screams, “NOOOOO! What is this!? Why did you bring me back!?”
The boss approaches “kind sir welcome back I have graced you with a second chance at life and now that I have helped you I would like you to help me.”
“My pet gargoyle, Zuzu which I’m certain you’ve been acquainted with and the cause of your untimely end may have been in the area of your death. If you would be so kind as to point us in the direction of your town we would certainly be happy to drop you off on the way.”
The corpse grows violent, “Your pet did this?! Well I got news for you I ain’t goin’ back! They collected from me once fed my intestines to your pet, hollowed me out and left a nasty surprise where they used to be and they ain’t getting a cent outta me again, kill me!”
A smile creeps across the bosses face, “kind sir if it’s bandits your worried about we are more than qualified to handle them in exchange for your service.”
The corpse let’s out a mocking laugh, “good luck but I learned my lesson already a group of bandits, ok but messing with the IRS nooooo thank you!
The corpse jerks on a string hanging from the outside of his stitched stomach, I hear the faint sound of a tick.
“Head east, follow the moss on the side of the rocks, good luck.” Another tick.
Esteban get down! I’m snatch back quickly. The corpse explodes in a blaze of blue. The boss protects us with an unseen force, its shape being betrayed by the dance of moonlit ash filling the room.
The ash settles and the boss strokes his beard deep in thought muttering and shivering “IRS…”
“Esteban” he utters with a sullen tone. I’ve never heard him like this.
“Yes sir?”
“Prepare a homing pigeon, we’re gonna need some help.”
| 2022-04-11T09:27:36
| 2022-04-11T07:54:10
| 80
| 23
|
[WP] It's 3 AM. An official phone alert wakes you up. It says "DO NOT LOOK AT THE MOON". You have hundreds of notifications. Hundreds of random numbers are sending "It's a beautiful night tonight. Look outside."
|
I wake up to the sound of a familiar jingle coming from my phone. Groaning I turn over and turn it on. But then something grabs my interest, an official text, like the amber alerts you get sometimes, saying DO. NOT. LOOK.AT. THE. MOON. My screen then suddenly bursts up with hundreds of text messages saying the same thing, it’s a beautiful night tonight. Look outside.
I then see the time, 3:00 am. “Shit” I say, still half asleep, “ I have class at 7:30, ain’t nobody got time for trolls.” I then turn back over and have a wonderful nights rest and get to class just on time.
But no one is there.
|
I wake to the sound of my phone vibrating so fast I'm afraid it'll fall of my nightstand. I groggily my phone before it falls and turn it on to see the words "DO NOT LOOK AT THE MOON" in bright letters illuminated by the official nationwide alert backdrop. The vibrations refuse to stop. Hundreds of texts are rolling in from numbers I don't know so fast that I can barely make out what they're saying. I set my phone to silent and put it back on the nightstand. "Looks like a problem that can wait till the morning," I faintly think to myself before falling back to sleep. Nothing gets me out of bed at 3 a.m.
| 2022-06-27T10:58:59
| 2018-04-06T19:08:10
| 103
| 11
|
[WP](NSFW) The world has moved on from nature documentaries, leaving many narrators out of a job. These men and women turn to a new field; narrating pornography.
Nature documentarists narrating porn.
|
“Ok, relax, you can do this” Darrell thought nervously.
He got comfortable in the booth and made his headset a little more snug. This was a situation he had been in a hundred times before. But today, the new content came in. The dryness in his mouth, coating his tongue, was a direct result of this….”New content.”
Darrel had built a solid career around narration. He got into voice over work at an early age and was now a decade or two past being a seasoned pro. Up until now, his speciality was nature documentary related narration. Migratory geese, penguin mating rituals, and the like. But due to the recent decline in sales of “Na-Docs” (industry term), all the good V/O jobs were now in, of all things, adult entertainment.
With the advent of newer and newer technology, simply watching porn became a chore. People grew lazy and wanted something more...something new. And thus, pornographic narration was born. It had become a billion dollar industry almost overnight.
“This is just more narration.” he thought as his monitor lit up with a blur of tangled limbs and uncomfortably tan skin. A bead of sweat materialized on Darrel’s brow. Today wasn’t just another narration job for him, but rather, it was an audition. The word on the street was that Netflix-Universal was prepping new content for what would eventually become the porn equivalent of Planet Earth. To people in this business, this would be akin to winning the lottery. Morgan Freeman had passed by Darrell on his way into the building. This was huge and everyone knew it. Executives, producers, the show runners, and all of their assistants...so many people packed tightly into the other room across from Darrel. He slyly dabbed away his sweat before anyone could see it and sat up straight in his chair. The moment had come.
“Ok, great to see you, babe. Just do what you do, no pressure. Let’s give it a try, yeah?” said a voice obscured by studio light.
Darrell took a deep breath and exhaled. The clip on the video monitor was restarted and went to black. As it faded in though, his mind went completely and utterly blank.
As the bodies on the screen began to writhe in tandem, every solitary thought departed from his head. He tried to force himself to speak but all he could muster was a crackling in the farthest reaches of his throat. Panic began to set in. Darrell hadn't realized until this moment just how much the pressure of this audition had weighed on him. An awkward silence...and then...
"Are...you ok?" A voice said over the headset.
"Sorry. Sorry about that. Can we go again?" Darrell asked sheepishly....his mind still blank. He could feel the sweat returning to his forehead in full force and it reminded him of morning dew freshly blanketing the grass in the...
"Wait a minute..." he thought. "Morning dew." Right then, a wave of euphoria washed over Darrell as every nature documentary he had ever narrated before now came back to him. The clip began to play. He opened his mouth, took a deep breath and exploded with the most gently explicit imagery imaginable. A woman arching her back in climax became a wolf rearing back and howling at the moon. This 32 person orgy became a school of fish darting to and fro. The couple furiously flipping into this pile driver position like a honey badger that just didn’t give a shit. His narration evolved into a flurry of color and rhythm the likes of which Shakespeare or Mozart could never imagine. All the faces behind the glass became entranced at the man behind the microphone...their mouths agape. One production assistant fought hard to hold back tears. Every word out of his mouth added notes to the symphony that was his narration.
And suddenly...it stopped.
Everyone in the outer booth audibly gasped.
“No!” shouted the technician in desperation. “No, please! Don’t stop! That was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard! Please, tell us, what’s wrong?”
A moment passed before Darrell began to speak.
“I…” he stuttered coming out of an almost hypnotic state.
“I just can’t think of a good metaphor for a queef.”
|
FADE IN
INT - A BEDROOM
*A YOUNG MAN is seated on a bed, reading through a generic sports-themed magazine. He is tall and muscular, and seems to be hiding an expectant smirk. He is shirtless, and otherwise clad in a pair of tight-fitting jeans.*
**NARRATOR:** Within homes across the planet, a time-honored ritual is taking place. This custom, practiced by all but a few members of the human species, exemplifies both our greatest desires and our darkest weaknesses.
*A title fades into view: TABOO TEMPTATION 12. The title fades away after a few seconds.*
**NARRATOR:** Here, we see a prime example of the human male, lounging atop his nest after a hard day's labor. He peruses imagery of other such males, perhaps believing that he, too, possesses some semblance of their ability.
*The bedroom door opens, and a YOUNG WOMAN walks in. She is dressed in a pink miniskirt and matching halter-top.*
**NARRATOR:** Suddenly, the male finds his sanctuary invaded by a female interloper. He responds to her intrusion with a casual yet guarded inquiry.
**YOUNG MAN:** Whoa, why are you just... walking into my room?
**NARRATOR:** Thus challenged, the female responds.
**YOUNG WOMAN:** Well, you're my stepbrother, so I need your advice.
**NARRATOR:** Suspicious yet curious, the male continues to seek information.
**YOUNG MAN:** Yeah, and you're my stepsister, but why are you in my room?
*The YOUNG WOMAN sits down on the bed. She adopts a pose that gives the YOUNG MAN an unobstructed view of her underwear.*
**NARRATOR:** The female senses that she is unwelcome in this, the lair of the male. She attempts to relax him with a display of vulnerability.
**YOUNG WOMAN:** You know that I really like Bobby, right?
**YOUNG MAN:** Yeah, you talk about him all the time.
**YOUNG WOMAN:** I think he likes me, too, but I want to be sure that I can make him happy.
**NARRATOR:** The ruse has its intended effect: Having been asked for advice, the male lowers his emotional defenses and offers the sum total of his wisdom.
**YOUNG MAN:** It's easy to make guys happy.
*The YOUNG MAN puts aside his magazine.*
**YOUNG MAN:** Is there something else?
**NARRATOR:** The question catches the female unprepared, and she responds with a verbal display of her surprise.
**YOUNG WOMAN:** (*Laughing nervously*) It's just... do you think my boobs are too small?
*The YOUNG WOMAN sticks out her chest and glances down at her breasts, which are only barely contained within her halter-top.*
**NARRATOR:** The situation has grown delicate. One false word, and the male will irrevocably harm the self-esteem of his companion.
**YOUNG MAN:** I don't know. You're my stepsister, so I've never seen them.
**YOUNG WOMAN:** You're my stepbrother, though, so... like, it wouldn't be weird for you to see them, right?
*With a deliberate motion, the YOUNG WOMAN pulls her top up, revealing her breasts.*
**NARRATOR:** The female offers a display of her bosom to the male, indicating her interest in his approval.
**YOUNG MAN:** I guess it's not weird. I can't tell much just by looking at them, though.
**NARRATOR:** To gauge her desirability, the male performs a tactile examination of the female's chest.
*The YOUNG MAN gropes the YOUNG WOMAN, who moans with delight.*
**YOUNG WOMAN:** Ooh, that feels *good*... but we shouldn't do this, right? I mean... you're my stepbrother.
**YOUNG MAN:** It's not like... it's not like... it's not like it, uh... it *means* anything.
**YOUNG WOMAN:** Yeah, it's... it's just a thing, right? Here, maybe I should take your pants off.
**YOUNG MAN:** Yeah, that's a good idea.
*The YOUNG WOMAN clumsily undoes the YOUNG MAN's zipper, revealing his boxer shorts.*
**NARRATOR:** The pair continue to disrobe, allowing one another to take in the unobstructed sight of their undergarments.
**YOUNG WOMAN:** Here, maybe it would be better if we were both naked. I mean... it's strange just sitting here with *some* clothes on, you know?
**YOUNG MAN:** Yeah. It's weird, but it would be okay if we were naked, because you're my stepsister.
*Each of the two strips naked. They start touching one another with reckless abandon.*
**NARRATOR:** The time has arrived. Now suitably aroused, the male and female explore each other's bodies with growing anticipation. Their motions are eager, yet still hesitant... for this is unexplored territory for the step-siblings, who have never before dreamed of copulating with one another. Their journey is certain to be one of thrilling excitement and vast discovery... and it can be yours to watch on demand for only $1.99. Please click the button marked "Get the FULL MOVIE!" in the links below this video.
FADE OUT
| 2015-04-08T14:39:02
| 2015-04-08T11:43:32
| 46
| 29
|
[WP] You're a KGB double agent the CIA sent to infiltrate the FBI who got you join the Mafia who got you a position to sabotage the Yakuza, who placed you in a corporate job to spy on the CEO who wants you to pretend to be the Prime Minister's aide. But they don't know who you really work for.
|
It comes to me, sometimes, that this is more like a quest in a videogame than the life of an international secret agent. You know, the age-old chain of deals. Maybe you're too young to have played a game with one of those in it. What are you, twenty? Ever play Runescape? That had one.
But anyway, it's like this. The Kremlin wants me to infiltrate the Pentagon. The Pentagon wants me in Quantico. Quantico wants me in Sicily, Siciliy wantsme in Tokyo, Tokyo wants me in London.
I'm operating at the highest level of discretion in every one of them. License to kill, double-oh, all that crap. Literally, in fact. You can't be the aide to the Prime Minister if you aren't a part of MI6.
Thank fuck those guys don't want me to go anywhere for them. I was dreading the thought that they'd send me to the Kremlin, and make this whole thing a demented Q shape.
What's that? I think I can hear you say kill? Kill them all?
I honestly, truly wish that this was as simple as killing the head of each organization. But no, it isn't. What I'm dealing with is a complicated network of needs and wishes from each and every group.
You see, Miss Brexit-Means-Brexit thinks a certain Scottish woman was getting a bit uppity about independence. Yeah, see, now you understand why I've kidnapped you. So, I have to lace her evening meal with a blood clotting agent, causing a stroke. She'll step down, and less nationalist elements of her party will take over. In theory.
But, the Yakuza want their gaijin, that's me, to link this back to the Prime Minister. The evidence I'll leave behind will point to me, her aide, a week or two after I disappear. As a result, her assassination (me again) will be linked to the ETA, for her attack on their Scottish brethren.
This will shatter EU-UK relations, and ensure Scottish Independence, with Northern Ireland leaving not long after. As a result, the UK will look further afield for it's exports, specifically turning to the Yakuza's interests in the Japanese tech sector.
However, the success of a gaijin within their ranks will trigger the more xenophobic elements of the Yakuza (people that I've already pissed off, just to make sure), and a civil war will ensue. In the chaos, the Mafia will move in on territories they were already clashing with their Japanese counterparts over.
This success will call for a party. I have to argue, with my newfound position in the American branch of the family, that it should be hosted in America. Whereupon the FBI will swoop down upon this secret gathering of the entire leadership of the Mafia, crippling it for decades to come.
Of course, the Executive Assistant Director for Criminal, Cyber, Response and Services Branch (jesus christ, what a mouthful) of the FBI is gonna be in the surrounding area of this raid, to give a statement to the press about this momentous operation. I have to ensure that a stray bullet takes him out.
Why? Because he's investigating CIA activity on domestic soil. Apart from their limited allowance, this is a big no-no, and if word of this got out, the CIA's leadership would face ejection from their seats at best. Some will probably get jail time. Technically, it's treason, so there's a chance for execution. This is why they want to replace him with a more pro-CIA man.
The Kremlin, meanwhile, makes it easy. I just have to give the details of the operation to Wikileaks. Ensure the word gets out. The CIA will be crippled for at least half a decade.
See what I mean about it being easier to just kill them? Yeah, you get it. Completely bonkers.
Years of work for weeks of action. And then I retire to a nice house in the country, with a generous pension and none of these people the wiser about who I worked for.
You see, none of that was the complicated part of the plan.
You expect the age-old chain of deals to end with you giving the final piece to the first guy who asked for something, right? That's how it usually goes. Everyone will be so busy looking for the group who benefits from the final piece, they won't suspect the innocent bystanders who benefit from every step.
You see, the Yakuza and the Mafia have been causing trouble back home. The police just can't keep up. Taking them out is just a nice big benefit to this whole thing.
The guy the CIA will be pushing for the vacant FBI position? His biggest rival is our man. When their involvement in the vacancy comes out, our guy is a shoe-in.
It's the same with the CIA. The next level down of the leadership, the heirs to the thrones, are all more inclined to work with us than their predecessors.
And of course we'll leak that the CIA's man in the FBI was also a Kremlin man. They're doing all this so they can make some covert moves on Europe, but when that comes out, the CIA's assets will move more heavily against them. So no-one will suspect it when I sneak some files out of the archives. Specifically, their very detailed files on the British Nuclear program.
I'm sorry, I can't actually hear what you're saying through the duct-tape. It's just coming out like mumbling. But let me guess. You're wondering what we'll get out of a diamond-hard Brexit.
It's the simplest thing. Sturgeon's heir has got it into his head that the best way for Scotland to survive outside of the UK is to increase their relations with us. Give it a decade, maybe half, and we'll have the Scottish public convinced that they should join us in a more... fair union. Companies that want access to the Common Market will be falling over themselves to set up in a well-educated, English-speaking EU country, especially one with such a low corporate tax rate.
As a result, we become the new UK. America's trusted ally, a nuclear state, a big name in the EU. But better. We never colonized, we have no former Empire that we cling to. Immediately, we have better relations with the parts of the world that hate the West, because we were victims, just like them. And now we're a big figure on the world stage.
A big old beacon of hope.
And with Scotland, comes Northern Ireland. The Unionists are mostly Scottish in descent. With their ancestral homeland a part of us now, they'd have less qualms about joining up with us again.
And with all the confusion about the Americans, the Italians, the Japanese, the Russian and the British...
Nobody ever suspects the Irish.
|
My parents had dreams of having many children and having each child be a part of a different niche, but I was the only one to come before my mother was diagnosed with Ovarian cancer, requiring surgery. Adoption was out of their reach as they couldn't afford adopting a single child, let alone 5.
So they had me do everything. Football. Band. Debate. Ballroom. You name it. I somehow had the talents to performed well with every single task I did that I'd just put my body on autopilot and think.
After my parents died in car accident I was finally able to choose for myself. I chose IT as my major. Computers were new at the time and so that was something my parents didn't make me do.
My "don't question, do" habit carried over to my romantic life. I got hooked up on many dates and went through so many relationships that shouldn't have started that my 18 year old mind got so fed up I disappeared after Freshman year and went to Europe.
The Soviet Union was still around, although fracturing quite noticeably. I traveled through areas of modern day Ukraine and Serbia, places a little bit more secluded from the Western World.
As I traveled, I assisted many of the locals, with many of the tasks ranging from knitting clothes, auto-mechanics and even help choreograph tryout routines for a ballroom team. I had empty pockets and I couldn't pay for my food and shelter. Now a days many people seem to have forgotten that doing favors is the most universal of currencies.
If was only so long until I ran into a bit of trouble. With my proximity to the USSR, I managed to catch the eye of many KGB Agents, for a man of my talents is the best undercover agent, being able to be anyone and back it up.
They kidnapped me in the middle of the night when I stayed in the home of a young single mother I calmed from an anxiety attack and was able to teach her daughter a bit of ballet.
The KGB was desperate. They were fracturing and I could infiltrate any location for espionage to keep what little of their hold in place. So I returned to a life of technical slavery. I was everyone's slave, their genie. I did what I was told and zoning out on autopilot was easier that fighting back.
The blood stains were awfully hard to get out when I returned to reality every night. Screams echoed but were long forgotten through sleep, as if Deep Freeze was placed on my mind.
I stepped over the starving children, blind widows, and crippled men. They're personal hells displayed almost proudly on their faces. They almost silently say to me a man in higher power, "Hell is all I have, so I am grateful for this one possession you bestowed upon me. You hide yours thinking people will judge you for your weakness, but now they only judge for your cowardice."
The third wish was finally used up. My final mission was to infiltrate the CIA. A return to the continent I left a couple of years before. The life of Samuel Jamison, Alexi Ivanov, Stefan Bauer, Guilherme Antunes, Jacob Sanderson, and Richard Barton was changed. For once I had to be every single one.
| 2016-10-26T22:46:19
| 2016-10-26T21:33:22
| 72
| 11
|
[WP] Convicted criminals can choose to shorten their sentence. The only catch is the more it is shortened, the worse the conditions are where they are held. Describe a one night stay.
Thanks guys, I'm reading all of them. Keep it coming!
|
At this end of the jail everything smells bad.
The warden's aide takes me past the 6 month room. It's lowered below the floor a couple meters. Inside, I see a room full of prisoners up to their waist in liquid shit. The smell is unbearable
Then the 3 month room. Much like the last, except here they're up to their chest in shit.
The one week room has the prisoners up to their necks in shit. Just one room left.
I was surprised by the one day room. Everyone was standing around drinking coffee, and only up to their knees in shit.
"I'll take it!" I said to the warden's aide.
"You're sure?"
"Absolutely, how bad could it be?"
I climbed down into the room, waved to the other prisoners, poured myself a cup of coffee.
Before I could drink it, the lights dimmed and brightened three times. A guard with an SMG came through the door.
"ALRIGHT YOU MAGGOTS!" he bellowed "BREAK TIME IS OVER! BACK TO STANDING ON YOUR HEADS!"
|
The small fires peppering the main hall of block 99-J lit up the dark, cavernous halls like a symphony. They kept the power off because they kept having to evetually send maintenance men, and after what happened to the last four, they stopped coming.
Someone's wet, muffled screams just stopped, and are now replaced with cackling laughter. I look down the hall to see another prisoner, carrying one slung over his shoulder, like an ape. Someone ran at him with a knife, and he used the, likely dead, body as a human shield, and then in the way someone might use a club. This place reminds me of a book I read once. Can't remember which one. Can't really remember reading many books.
Now where was I? Oh yeah, 99-J. Well what do you expect when you get a day and a half for triple homicide? They didn't even have most of the blood off me, they were putting me in a room and asking me how long I wanted to be in jail. Well I said I didn't and they said fat chance. But then they said a new place was opening up, for people with my sorta needs. The reality was, Ableridge was shutting down because of the riots. They didn't want a send in the Guard to evacuate or blow it up with everyone still in. So they lock it up extra tight, and let anyone who makes it out go. Usually they've had their fill of mayhem by that point, though I can't seem to recall the last person that actually made it.
So they lift me, in a helicopter like. Only time I ever flew in my life, God what fun. Sorta makes you look at the pilot and wonder why here's where he is and you's where you is... Nevermind. So they take me right over top. Point to the front door, and said if you can last a day and a half, they'll let you out right quick. Then they shoved me out, hit the middle of the rec yard and broke a wrist.
As the howls of the boys get closer and more guttural, my grip grows tighter, thus, the string on my shiv seems too thin to protect my hand, and my wrist grows wet. I'm tired, but still urging for that hot, iron taste in the back of my throat. Just hours to go. Well, maybe a bit of sleep before...
The small, peppering fires lit up the dark, cavernous halls of 99-J like an opera. I feel like my dreams keep getting wilder and wilder....
| 2015-10-27T08:07:44
| 2015-10-27T06:51:29
| 150
| 16
|
[WP] Every generation the five brightest are paired up with the five dumbest in the world for a mysterious test. You are one of the ten, but nobody knows from which group they came.
|
"Well OK, those 5 guys over there are literally barely functional human beings whereas the 5 of us are brilliant so I guess that settles which group is which. And, ok, here's the mysterious test...yeah, it's a calculus test. OK, I know calculus on account of I'm a fucking genius so thanks for wasting my time. Lets see how the other guys are doing...yeah, they've just shit themselves. They're all shitting themselves. Can I go home now? I was like, right in the middle of curing cancer."
|
I pace the waiting room. Up and down, up and down. Everyone is isolated from each other initially to prevent reading the others and finding out which group they came from. Well, most of the candidates knew which group they came from anyway. The room had a couch, a dresser, and a bit of refreshments on the small table in front of the couch.
"Well, figures I'd be the top 5 dumbest people in the world."
I smoked my way through high school and dropped out of college. For what? I thought I had a plan. My buddy and I, the start-up. Then shit went south and the fucker ditched me. Started doing odd-jobs, lived on the streets for a bit. Smoked a bit of this, shot up a bit of that. Got my ass beat so many times I barely feel physical pain anymore. Oh, that reminds me. If I'm going to humiliate myself on global television I might as well just do it while I'm feeling good and not getting the shakes. I'm sorry, mom, dad. I should have listened after all.
I pull out my syringe.
|
"Ladies and gentlemen! Welcome, to the 3rd GC! I am your host for today, Quin Jackson, and I am joined with my amazing co-host, Victor. The Generation Contrast is a decennial event, where by 5 of the brightest minds of each new generation has to work with the 5 dumbest minds of the generation for the GC test. Now the GCT has been set, funded and organised by an anonymous individual ever since the creation of the GC in 2020. Even I don't know who he is."
The crowd murmurs.
"Now, we are going to move on to the live interviews, where the participants will be interviewed individually in their respective waiting rooms." The crowd goes wild as the anticipation to see who were the lucky few to be chosen. Or unlucky.
"Now, we will be looking at James, 26, jobless. But one of the smartest men of the generation. LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, PLEASE PUT YOUR HANDS TO TOGETHER FOR-"
The stadium's large screen changed from the faces of the casters, to a man sitting in the waiting room with his face in ecstasy and his arm with a needle sticking out of it. His entire head was thrown back on the couch as his eyes rolled back.
|
As I shoot up, thoughts run wild in my head. What's going to happen to me after the GC? Will my life be better after being known as the biggest dumbass in the world? Fuck it, I might just off myself after this shit is done. I'll OD on whatever, feel good when I pass out at least. Or not, if I get money.
My thoughts clear as the my body circulates the liquid of the gods. That hits the fucking spot, Mable's stuff is damn good as always. As I roll back my eyes to enjoy the pleasure, the door opens.
And suddenly, the whole world can see me shooting up heroin.
|
"JAMES? WHAT THE-? WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING DOWN THERE?"
Quin turns off the mics and calms Victor down before he destroys the production desk.
"FUCK, HAVE YOU NOT DISGRACED THE FAMILY ENOUGH?" "Victor, you have to calm down. We have the biggest gig of the decade. Don't let your brother or anything stop you. And why are you pissed off? He's one of the brightest minds in his generation." "It must be a mistake. That doesn't make any sense for him to be here as one of the smartest. Dumbest, maybe, but not a snowball's chance in hell is he one of the smartest. You know what, professionalism. Let's get back to the show." Quin smiles at Victor.
Quin turns the mics back on.
"Er, James seems to be in, well, wonderland. We'll get back to him in a bit." "Apologies, everyone. I was not expecting my brother to be on the GC."
The crowd has mixed reactions, as Quin and Victor masterfully shifts the attention away from James and to the next participant.
"And moving on to the next brightest mind..."
EDIT: Formatting
| 2016-03-03T07:24:25
| 2016-03-03T05:47:53
| 91
| 26
|
[WP] You are a barista in a 24 hour coffee shop. Every night at 3:33am a demon appears for the Dark Lord's latte.
|
No one comes around this late, but that’s to be expected; small town Appalachia isn’t known for its night life. My few customers are police officers looking for a boost, maybe the odd plant worker fresh off third shift. The job is slow, and that suits me fine. I spend quiet nights getting paid in exchange for days all to myself. There is one thing though…
I’m not sure what to call it. It’s told me before, in some garbled dialect I’m not ready or able to understand, but regardless I call it ‘demon’. It’s a foul thing, some non-Euclidean horror almost beyond my comprehension, and it wants a latte. I think it does, at least. Just over a year I’ve worked in this coffee shop, and just over a year this thing has visited me nightly.
Its arrival is always unpleasant. At 3:33am, without fail, the brief shadows cast by the chandeliers above begin to distort as if they were being stretched open, like so many dozens of appendages tearing a hole in the fabric of my reality. It seeps from this hole, clambering from the void in one fluid motion. In its presence, the air of the room changes, suddenly chilled and reeking of ozone. I exist quietly behind the bar, the idle hum of the espresso machine filling my ears, waiting for the demon to acknowledge me.
It has learned to approach the counter before uttering its single question, understanding the abstract ritualism we take for manners. I do my best to observe the demon as it creeps across the floor, with no avail. My eyes can never focus, unable to identify any single feature or surface. It’s unlike anything I’ve seen before, or will ever see again. Lacking any natural features, it’s no surprise that is has no vocal chords either. Still it always tries to form words I’ll understand; a respectable attempt. It at least understands me, and I suppose that’s all that matters.
I ask what it would like. In turn it replies, straining to match the pitch and cadence of any proper English speaker. ‘Latte’ or ‘Coffee’, it hisses. And so I make a Latte, careful to make it right for fear of some otherworldly retribution. I press on the cup’s lid before slipping it into a protective cardboard sleeve, under the assumption it can register heat at all. I place the drink on its side of the counter, and on cue it dispenses an ornate, glimmering coin from its being. I struggle to describe these coins. They change at a moment’s notice, altering slightly in color and feature with each glance I take. I nod before plucking it from the tabletop.
The demon takes the latte but never drinks it, clutching it as if writhes back across the room towards its entry. In a moment it melts back into the shadows, finally allowing them to return to the shape light cast them in.
I’m not sure why that thing comes to my store, or where it takes that coffee, but I am sure it’s for someone or something else. I can recognize the bad temperament of an unpaid intern anywhere, and I can only hope whatever dark lord it serves is content with its beverage, for its sake and mine. I seem to be doing well so far.
Now, the most troubling dilemma is finding use for these coins. I have almost four hundred of them now. No appraiser can identify their origin, much less their worth. That’s okay, I guess. Might need them one day.
|
“Hey, how’d it go with your date last night?”
I looked at the time. It’s 3:32am. “Well, kind of a long story. I’d tell you, but you know who will be here any minute now.”
“Ah. True. Well, he might wanna hear too? Is he a he by the way? Does he just identify as “demon” or …”
Suddenly Damien the Demon, most venerable assistant to “The Dark Lord,” appears.
I’ve worked this shift at Angel Café for six months now. Damien, a powerful demon, without fail, appears every night at exactly 3:33am to pick up a latte for “The Dark Lord.” I’ve never gotten used to this and probably never will. I get chills every time Damien appears, but I always try my best to hide my fear and stay professional.
“Damien! How are you?”
“You know why I’m here. Where is it?”
“Ah … uh … right. Coming right up. Just finishing it up now.”
“And why isn’t it already ready?”
“Well … sir … or … uh … yea …”
“What Chris means to say is that last time we made it to be ready for as soon as you arrive and you complained that it was not fresh enough despite us making it literally 30 seconds before you appeared.”
I go back and forth between looking at Damien and Lisa. I can’t believe she just said that to a freaking demon. Is she crazy? Ah, shit! I spill Damien’s order as I’m distracted.
“Fuck,” I whisper just a tad bit too loudly.
“What is it? Where is the latte?”
“Uh … sorry Damien. I …”
My eyesight rapidly deteriorates as tears pile up. I wipe my eyes to prevent a waterfall. Lisa comes over to help.
“It didn’t come out right. We’ll get you a fresh one started immediately.”
That was a lie. Lisa just lied to cover for me. God I hope Damien isn’t psychic.
“It has been 3 minutes. The Dark Lord will not be happy with this wait.”
I nod my head furiously while multitasking and scrambling to get another latte started. Lisa puts her hand over my hand in a signal for me to stop and calm down. I look her in the eyes and nod slowly.
“I am not Cupid. I am a powerful demon. Cut the romance, complete my order, or you will find out exactly what it means to be a powerful demon.”
“Yes. We’re on it Damien. Chris is going to take a break and I’ll get this done right away.”
Damien grunts. I walk to the other side of the café to do some stocking. Lisa pours Damien’s latte into a large coffee cup.
“Here you go. One large iced vanilla latte.”
“Have all the specifications been met?”
“Blonde roast cold brew, one pump vanilla, whole milk, and a dash of cinnamon.”
“Good.”
Damien grabs the coffee.
“By the way, my manager did mention that we’re getting ready to sell to a new owner so I’m not sure if the new owner will be okay with the whole free coffee in exchange for not killing us deal. Just letting you know.”
Damien glares at Lisa.
“I guess we will see.”
Damien suddenly disappears.
I let out a huge sigh of relief and put my hands on my knees while looking at the ground.
Lisa walks over and rubs my back.
I stand up straight.
“You know, Lisa, either you’re the bravest person on the planet, the craziest person on the planet, or both … You know if I didn’t know any better I’d think you’re a demon yourself.”
I grin and giggle.
Lisa grins as well.
“Chris … you have no idea.”
Lisa winks at me.
I tilt my head slightly to the side while looking slightly confused. I wonder what she means by that?
My thought is interrupted by another customer walking in. Ah, fuck. I guess it’s about that time for the after-party crowd. Beats a demon, but not by much.
| 2022-10-30T12:22:20
| 2022-10-30T11:59:59
| 87
| 50
|
[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.
|
One day James was sitting with his wife, he was cooking dinner for school children while she was knitting beanies for the homeless, when she cut herself, James sprang to his feet, "let me help you with that" he said. But upon reaching her, his eyes widened, her blood was pure black, he immediately begun to yell, "what have you done" he yelled, "I torrented some music once" she said, "oh yeah" James responded "totally forgot that was illegal", And they laughed it off and carried on with their day.
|
It was my 21st birthday. Like every other birthday, I decided to spend my day helping out the homeless. Usually I’d do the soup kitchen but a friend of mine decided to come along insisting that we join in on the beanie knitting project.
My friend called me a natural at knitting since it was my first time and my first beanie looked immaculate. After the second one we began to turn the good deed into a competition. Who can produce the most beanies?
Lucy said she had been knitting since she was a young girl. Compared to my beanies, hers were better looking but I could produce faster. After a while we were both on our tenth beanie. She caught up after having three less then me. This prompted me to ramp up my production. There’s no way I would lose to Lucy.
I shifted my eyes from my work to Lucy continuously, making sure that I outpaced her. As my eyes swayed from my hands to her, I accidentally jabbed myself with the needle. The needle was embedded deeply into my middle finger causing a wound of considerable size to open as I pulled it out without caution.
“God damn”
A devilish grin was on her face as Lucy gazed upon my wounded finger. There was jet black material slowly escaping from the wound. The dark material was my blood. Everyone knows that blood is naturally clear but darkens with each impure act. I was raised by the church and couldn’t remember partaking in any acts that would cause such a thing. I was the last person that anyone would expect to be impure.
“Finally”, Lucy yelled as she stood up. I was flabbergasted and couldn’t understand what was going on with her or the state of my blood.
“My child, this is your true nature.”
The voice that was coming from Lucy didn’t sound like the friend I had known for years.
“What do you mean?”
“It’s simple” she said. Her appearance began to change. A handsome man stood before me. “The church stole your memories and replaced them with shit that never happened. What you think you know and believe to be your life is a lie.”
“Who are you?”
“You May know me as Lucy, but my name is Lucifer”, he said with a smile. “But you can call me dad.”
| 2018-08-04T10:33:21
| 2018-08-04T10:32:26
| 19
| 10
|
[WP] You can make a lie become truth, but only one lie at a time, once it is a lie again everyone involved will know immediately. You’re on your deathbed, holding one lie as truth for decades. You know hell will break loose once you die and the lie becomes a lie, and everybody will know.
|
"This sentence is a lie."
And they fucking believed it. For a century! They really did not see what is coming... I was the only Ultima Authorie, last to be asked whether it was the truth or not and I always went with "Yes.'.
So the sentence is a lie? Get over it, is the truth. Fucking hell though, once me time was through, I thought, perhaps they should be told the truth instead? Lie about it?
"This sentence is not a lie!"
Was my explanation to them, on my death bed mind you. Never seen looks like that. Likewise, they took it for the truth. This baffled me. Something in my head just clicked. How can they possibly believe them both?!
Apparently it's a thing.
|
Everyone lies. Small, almost innocent lies. Lies that break families and ruin lives. Accidental lies based on faulty information or bias. They can hold us together or tear us apart.
Like everyone else, I've lied many times in my life. Unlike other people, however, I can choose to make any one lie into the truth. It doesn't have to be my own lie either, but if I choose a different lie, everyone affected by the previous lie will know.
You can imagine the terrible things I have done, intentionally or otherwise. After all, power corrupts. Absolute power corrupts absolutely. And that's what I have. Absolute power.
Because I am God.
| 2022-11-18T08:23:40
| 2022-11-18T07:05:32
| 18
| 13
|
[WP]You are an omnipotent god. Out of boredom you decided to live an ordinary human life vowing not to use your power. 15 years has pass and you have a 9 to 5 working for a major tech company. Your boss has been tormenting you for years and you have reach your limit
|
Another day, another hectic day at work. How do these earthlings even tolerate this? Ah, If only I could.....no, I vowed not to.*Sigh* Damn. It wouldn't be this bad if it weren't for that no good boss of mine. Oh, here he comes again. That son of a gun better mind his own business.
Dave(My boss): "Fuck are you thinking about?You're not paid to think, you dumb ape. I want these invoices on my desk in an hour or you'll have to find another job."
This guy has had it out for me ever since I joined here, two years ago. I look around to see if anybody heard that. No one looks up from their work, but who am I kidding? With a voice like that, the clerk in the building across the street would've heard his insults. If only he knew who I was, he would fall on his knees and grovel, like the scum he is. The odd part is, he doesn't treat anybody else the way he treats me. I wonder why? One would think I killed his cat or something.
(A long, arduous day later) And.....I'm done for the day. Managed to keep that timeline after all. Damn, what the hell does he want now?
Dave: Are you done with the filing I asked you to do?
(Internally)No shit. Why do you think I'm leaving, moron?
Me: Yes, Sir. Got them done just in time.
Dave: Good, then you can handle these purchases. I couldn't do them because I had to babysit your miserable ass.
Great. More work. This'll probably make me stay till midnight. That ass.
(One all-nighter later)
Shit, It's two in the morning. No sleep for me, I guess. Sometimes I wish I didn't have this mortal body, so bogged down by exhaustion. Sometimes I also watch as Dave takes the night off, or leaves early because he "felt like it". Anyway, I need to get home and get some rest, not that there'll be much of that.
(four and a half restless hours of sleep and 20 minutes of speeding later)
Shit, I'm ten minutes late. I hope Dave isn't there.
Dave: How you doing?
Shit.
Dave:Had your morning coffee yet? Did your momma forget to wake you up on time?
Me:Actually,I...
Dave:SHUT IT! I don't even know why you work here. Your lousy ass should've been fired on DAY ONE!!
You know what? Screw this guy. I'm tired of his BS.
Dave: Are you even listening, you idiot?
Me: You know Dave, I never really liked you.
Dave:Do you think I give a.....
Me:SHUT THE HELL UP!!!
My mortal disguise burned away, and I stood in front of him, godly aura et all. Dave might have had three heart attacks, and a couple of strokes thrown in with that.
Well, to cut a long story short, I decided the mortal world wasn't for me. I resigned from my job that day, and I've enjoyed life much more since then.
I'm sure Dave is fine. After all, humans don't NEED all their limbs to survive. Or their eyes. Or their ears. Or their hair.
|
Another day, sitting in my corner office. Chief Executive Officer. Things have been a lot more entertaining since I decided to come to earth and help speed things up. I knew it could be done without my powers. It just took a lot of knowledge. Humans are, after all, pretty stupid and easily manipulated.
Computers everywhere, cell phones with instant access to everything. Social media, drone weaponry, flat screen TV's. Little did the world know, I made it all happen from behind this desk. Its been glorio.....
*Ring Ring*
*Ring Ring*
"Hello? Yes dear. Of course dear. I know. Yes, I'll do it when I get home! Fine! YES! You already said that!"
*click*
She hung up on me again.
"That's it... I'm done. I can't handle this anymore!"
I blink. It's now 15 years earlier.
"You've got to be crazy to be a human. I am never doing THAT again! I don't care how bored I am..."
| 2017-02-19T09:32:23
| 2017-02-19T08:58:06
| 44
| 33
|
[WP]At last the Dovahkiin dies. Now all the Daedra princes he has served over his life fight for his soul.
|
Mortal coils shuffled in the night at long last. The bells tolled in the north, from the Reach to the Rift and all lands between. Their champion had fallen not to the knife, not fire, not on field of battle, but to the cold, and to time. While Nirn and Tamriel laid restless in their absence, the Old Gods stirred, wrestled from their realms and their crypts and their often fiendish ambitions. While Skyrim mourned, the Daedric Lords descended upon the vessel; the soul of the Dragonborn drifts in the vast emptiness of Oblivion.
Hermaeus Mora rose first, in greed and filth, wanting in waiting to wrench the knowledge of the black books back from the Dragonborn’s spirit; the arrival of fellow Lords spurning him from pressing forward.
Each lord’s realm bled into the vast nothingness. The fires of Mehrunes Dagon, persistently familiar in the minds of many, surged forward as the Prince of Destruction took his steps into the mid-realm. He stood, stoic, uncharacteristically reserved. Not Mora, not Nocturnal, not anyone would threaten his claim.
Nocturnal’s mist seeped through, the Twilight beaming through the open frame. Boethiah slithered into existence, to the dismay of Meridia. The others soon followed suit, and not before long, all sixteen Lords of Oblivion were gathered, for the first time in a millennia. Their presences differed vastly, their power unfathomable, crowded around in a wide circle while the Dragonborn, unbent, stood center. The Dragonborn, with their cunning trickery, soon became evident.
The Dragonborn, for all their wit and careful measure, must have had the forethought to deal with these Lords when the time came. The Dragonborn would never reach the sacred afterlife again. Oblivion was a set course.
In what seemed like an age past, the Dragonborn engaged with the Thieves Guild of Riften, and by extension, the first of the sixteen lords the Dragonborn would come to deal with. The pact made as an agent of Nocturnal would seal their fate forever.
The Dragonborn, for all their faults, has never once laid down to a fate undetermined to their own will. Indeed there would come a time when Nocturnal would come for their soul, but Nocturnal is not the only Lord of Oblivion. Their journey to save their soul began the moment they took step from the Sepulcher.
Carrier of the Beacon of Meridia. Accused murderer of a Stendarr Vigilant. Champion to Azura. Friend of Sam. Bearer of the Vile Mask. The list would go on. Some of the Lords, the Dragonborn would enter into pact with, as with Nocturnal or Meridia. Others, the Dragonborn would bear the burden of committing heinous acts in order to gain the trust of these Lords. There are sacrifices to Vaermina, Boethiah, Molag Bal, even Peryite that line the fabric of this empty plain of Oblivion. In the hope of self preservation, the Dragonborn persisted. They never once claimed to be a saint.
Which brings us to the claiming of the soul.
Nocturnal and Molag Bal, in vitriol unrivaled, argued their claim the stronger. Nocturnal, the first to enter into pact, made the first claim. Molag Bal, notorious collector of souls, sought to reclaim the champion Dragonborn, who spurned the soul-eater by discarding their mace.
Mora’s claim came third, stronger than most. Their time together, however uncomfortable for the Dragonborn, was more consistent than with any other Lord, even Nocturnal. The events that occurred in Morrowind are scarred into the Dragonborn’s very soul.
Azura and Sanguine staked their respective claim not out of spite or greed, but mercy. In the times after the Dragon Crisis, the Dragonborn was a hesitant confidant to both Lords. Not inherently evil, they hoped to spare the Dragonborn of the strain Mora or Boethiah might inflict.
Sheogorath rescinded his claim, the madness that carried him used as a tried and true method of determining the inhabitants of the Shivering Isles. If there was ever a place for the Dragonborn, it was elsewhere.
Boethiah and Mephala staked their claim to the Dragonborn’s soul, yet secretly relished in the game they played, pitting the more volatile Lords against one another. The spirit of the game was admirable.
Hircine’s claim was weak, yet they persisted. Namira and Vaermina sought to subject the Dragonborn to horrors. Peryite and Vile abstained knowing their claims would not stack. Malacath looked upon the Dragonborn in despair, knowing too well the feeling of having no belonging.
Dagon stood, solemn, and terrifying. This was the first time the Dragonborn had gazed upon the Lord of Destruction. Their correspondence ended when the last of the Dawn was put on display on that lonely mountain altar. The Dragonborn stood strong in death, not yet intimidated. He waited for Mehrunes Dagon to stake the final claim.
And then, Dagon spoke.
“You thought this all out long ago, didn’t you. A foolish goal, fitting for a lackluster Champion.”
The flames of his plane of Oblivion spurred out beneath Dagon’s feet, threatening to engulf more of the mid-realm.
“Dragonborn, you championed Oblivion to save your soul in the end. Do you truly feel saved? Safe? *It does not matter, here.*”
The Dragonborn’s soul, old and waning, frowns. A shadow casts upon them, the fire of Dagon’s plane showering light as bright as Meridia’s.
“These Lords will rend, and scrape, and claw at all parts of your spirit until nothing yet remains, and in your passing, you will wonder in agony as to why you held onto this meager hope.
The gates of Oblivion, unbridled, will become your grave.”
A heavy breath escapes the Dragonborn’s lips. Silence follows for what might feel an eternity.
The fires of Dagon, the tendrils of Mora, the open hands of Azura and the darkness of Nocturnal close in around them.
The Dragonborn draws their sword to their side, with thoughts of home.
|
Well, he's dead. Soul of a dragon. Body of a Greek god. Voice like thunder. Character of an absolute douche. Dead is dead. Struck down in combat. Like a fool. The circle of life.
He'd been quite the player in his day. So many of the Daedric Princes seemed to have fallen under his spell. Each of them seemed to believe he was theirs to keep.
But no. It was all just a game to him. For every promise he made, for every sweet nothing, for every empty declaration of fealty, of loyalty, of undying (hah) obedience and servitude, there were ten more just like it, to so many others.
It was heartbreaking, really. That it had all been so easy for him. That he had played them again and again.
It was all just a game to him. He'd even had the gall to devour souls for himself, absorbing them and using them for his own entertainment.
It was all just a game to him.
They looked at each other. They never expected to all be there. Each thought he belonged to them and them alone. But no.
#DRAGON SOUL ABSORBED
*I wonder if I can convert this into perk points*
It's all just a game to me too.
| 2018-06-15T08:27:42
| 2018-06-15T08:25:13
| 43
| 31
|
[WP] you have the ability to hold full conversations with plants. you’ve only ever spoken to civilised pot plants living in houses or cafes. out of curiosity, you decide to speak with a lonely weed living in a dark alleyway.
|
"Would you please move me a few inches to the left?" the finicky fiddle-leaf fig asked me, its voice curt and shrew. "I don't quite like the strength of the sun right here. It's too warm."
I obliged with a sigh--who knew talking to plants would be so much work? They always demanded so much of me, crying at all hours of the day if things weren't just right for them, and that sweet spot was almost impossible to find. "Is this good enough?" I asked.
"No, but it'll have to do, I suppose. Don't be alarmed if I die a little, moving is such difficult work. I'll make it through, one way or another; that's what royalty does. It endures."
I nodded glacially, puckering my lips. "Right, that makes sense. Say, Fiddle. . .can I ask you a question?"
After a moment of silence, Fiddle replied, "I suppose I could entertain you, yes."
"I know you're new here, but you're already really big and beautiful. How did you find it in you to grow all the time, and become what you are today?"
"It's in my nature to," Fiddle replied abruptly. "I know nothing else but growth and regality. It's hard work, mind you, constantly having to make do with imperfect conditions such as this, but I do my best and pull it off in the end. Only the best of the best have what it takes. Days are never perfect, but I survive."
"Yeah, that makes sense." With a sigh, I stood and left the sunroom. Fiddle was the newest and least socially aware of my friends, and I wondered how he might get along with the others; though, something told me he'd be just fine, in any case.
Outside it was a bit gloomy, with light grey skies that tinged things a shade of bleak just strong enough to pull me down. Still, I wanted to go for a walk and clear my head. Sometimes I like to do that when life has me down. On my way out the door, I stopped by my corn plant, squatting beside him.
"How are you, Cornelius?" I asked, the words a sigh.
"Oh, I'm alright, I suppose. Can't complain too much. Thanks for asking, how are you doing?"
"I've been better."
"Me too. My leaves are a bit dry at the tips; it's not very humid in here." Cornelius had a rather flat voice that didn't indicate whining, but rather a statement of fact.
"Sorry about that, I'll get a humidifier for this room. Everything else okay?"
"Yeah, that's about it. Just getting by, you know. Making do."
I looked up and down the bright yellow bands streaking across the middle of each of its leaves and offered a half-hearted smile. "Well, that's good, at least. I get what you mean. Anyway, I'll leave you be. See you around."
"Bye now."
I heard him shiver when I opened the door, and quickly shut it behind me. It was nice being surrounded with friends, even if they didn't all get me very well; we were different, but that was okay. Better not to be alone.
The dull air hanging over my town was brisk but not too cold, and the lack of sun made me a little sad, but it was still a decent day out. Decent enough for a walk, at least. I passed a few trees on my way, most of whom know me but seldom say anything back to me. I think they find me creepy or annoying, which is fair enough, I guess. I'm not a plant, after all. Walking around town is much nicer in the spring and summer than the fall, because the grass sings beautiful hymns, and the trees whistle in fresh, warm gales. No one is very happy during the other seasons.
I continued down my usual route without stopping much, and decided not to get a treat on the way like I do sometimes; I wasn't feeling very hungry. In the last few blocks of my journey, I noticed something I hadn't before: a little blob of green on the ground, tucked between a couple commercial buildings that blocked out the sun. I ran over, thinking it had fallen from somewhere else and needed help.
"Are you okay?" I asked, tenderly assessing its limp leaves. It was embedded in the concrete, sprouting from a crack, and wouldn't budge at all.
"Hi there!" it replied, voice full of joy and wonder. "Wow, I hardly ever get any visitors here. What's your name?"
Stunned, I blinked a few times, then, "Olivia. What's yours?"
"Oh, I don't have a name. Never needed one, but that's okay!"
"Isn't that sad, not having a name?"
"I don't need a name to enjoy my life! Anywho, how are you on this lovely day?"
Again, I sat there in silence for a time, entirely confused by the strange little creature. "I'm. . .I'm alright, I suppose. Thanks for asking. How are you?"
"I'm wonderful," it replied honestly. "Just lovely."
"Aren't you cold?" I asked, looking all around. "There's no sunlight here, and the concrete doesn't hold warmth very well."
"Oh, no, it's not so bad," said the weed, with an earnest voice. "I suppose it's a little dark, and it's a little cold, but I'm sure there are plants surviving far worse situations than this. All things considered, I think I have it pretty easy over here."
I mouthed empty motions at first, stunned by the little plant. "Well aren't you lonely, at the very least? You have no other plant friends here, no one to talk to, no one to pass the time with. Surely that must hurt?"
A brief pause, then, "I have you, for now. I think it's wonderful enough just to experience a friendship like this for a little while."
"We're friends?" I asked, immediately biting my lip.
"I think so. You may be leaving very shortly, but a few beautiful moments are enough to make a life worth living for, in my opinion. That's why I fight so hard to survive in a place like this--because, even if it's a struggle sometimes, there are things I'd never get to experience if I weren't here. I won't let go of that."
I wanted to respond, but something welled up within me and I couldn't muster the words. They choked in my throat, sank to my stomach, and I stood there in shaky silence.
"Oh, look at that," the little weed said, giddy as can be. "What a perfect day. It's even raining a little bit, now."
"Yeah," I whispered, wiping my eyes. "It is a perfect day, isn't it?"
---
*/r/resonatingfury*
|
People have always treated Gordon like he was different. Even his own family treated him like he was something they’d accidentally stepped in, when his carer wasn’t looking. It wasn’t his fault. The only time he got into real trouble with his little sister, was when he ran out of paper to draw on, and so he went into her office looking for more.
How was he meant to know that the papers in the folders were special? They were blank on the back, and he’d drawn a picture of her with her pet tiger as a thank you for the paper. The tiger seemed to like it. Gordon had been using Justin’s stomach for a cushion the whole time he’d been drawing, and the tiger hadn’t once tried to stop him.
But his sister hadn’t liked his gift. She was mean and she shouted at him and she chased him. Fortunately, he was used to being chased, and he knew how to hide to avoid being hurt. Which was why he’d found his way out of her building even though he knew he wasn’t supposed to leave until his other sister, the Lady got back from where she healed people to take him back home.
It was noisy here. People talked and vehicles made bad sounds and even worse smells. There was nothing green here. Most people were smaller than him, but he’d learned how to get out of the way.
The chokehold he had on his oversized teddy bear gave him the strength to keep going. He’d heard the family talking about what they did during the day, and while most of it didn’t make sense, he’d thought he could find the Lady because there had only been one healing house wherever he’d gone, and the smell of the dying always gave those places away.
But this place was huge, and every building looked the same. He started walking backwards, and then sideways, trying to get his bearings, knowing he was on the brink of tears. Where was the green? Green was his friend. Green shared secrets with him and didn’t treat him badly.
Something even bigger than the noisy machines roared past, covering him in thick grey smoke.
And that was when he did start to cry. He wanted to go home.
“Oh, man,” he thought he heard, but when he turned around, people were just everywhere. “Sucker.”
He turned again, recognising the voice as some element of green. “Where are you?” he asked, searching the ground and the walls for whatever had spoken. If he found green, he wouldn’t be alone.
“Wait, you can hear me? Holy sweet ever-loving thank you, Jesus! Hey, You! You with the big teddy bear! Over here! That’s it! Follow the sound of my voice, you big, beautiful lump of … dang, you are a big guy, aren’cha…?” Gordon did just that, crossing the footpath to a ratty alleyway that stank even worse than the street.
“Where are you?” he asked, still searching for the elusive source of green.
“Hey, hey! Back here! You’ve gone too far! I’m here, between the dumpster wheel and the wall. C’mon, man! Open your eyes! Y’ can’t miss me!”
Gordon had no idea what a ‘dumpster’ was, but as the only thing in the alleyway with wheels was the big box that really smelled bad, he went back to the side that could see down the front of the alleyway, where he’d been.
“I’m Gordon,” he said, for he’d been taught to say that first and foremost, so the family would know who they were dealing with. Or rather, weren’t.
“Good to know, my man. So, how are you hearing me anyway?”
“I hear green. Green is my friend.”
“Riiiight,” the tiny weed roughly the size of Gordon’s hand drawled. But then it seemed to wake up to itself, for it quickly changed its tune. “Listen, Gordon. Pal. Buddy. Any chance of you doing me a solid?”
“Wha..?..”
“What?” the weed asked back. Then it seemed to groan. “Are you kidding me right now? The only guy I’ve ever met who speaks to plants, and he doesn’t understand basic New Yorker.”
Gordon had heard that tone enough to know he didn’t like it and rose to his feet. “You’re mean,” he said with a pout.
“Hey, hey, hey. Kid! Kiddo! I take it back. I’m sorry. C’mon, I’m just joshin’ with ya. Y’ know. Buddies, laughin’ things off? Ha-ha and stuff?”
The plant even tried to laugh unconvincingly, but it was still the only green Gordon had found so far, so he squatted back down again, though he still frowned to show the plant he wasn’t happy. Frowning he knew how to do. His other brothers and sisters did it all the time.
“Right,” the plant said, sighing now that that near disaster had been averted. “Okay, simple terms, for the simple guy. Got it. Do. You. Know. Where. Central. Park. Is?”
Gordon had heard the others speak of it in passing, but other than that, he shook his head.
“Okay, how about any other parks? You know, lots of greenery and flowers and stuff?”
“You’re the first green I found,” Gordon replied earnestly.
“Well, crap,” the plant swore. “I was gonna get you to move me roots and all to one of the parks where I could stake a claim amongst a whole wall of flowers. I likes me the pretties.”
“You could come with us,” Gordon offered.
“You know how to pull me out without breakin’ my roots?”
“Sure. You’re green.”
“Well, alrighty then. Let’s get this show on the road, man.” Gordon paused with his hands outstretched and looked at the weed. He’d never seen a weed sigh before. “It means let’s go, big guy. Holy crap. Dressed as swanky as you are and missing a few marbles topside, someone’s gotta be missing you.”
“They are,” Gordon said, with absolute authority. Maybe they weren’t yet, but they would be soon.
“Alright. Nice n’ easy, pal. My roots are tough, but sensitive.”
Gordon eased the plant out, then dug out with his fingers the small amount of soil it had been growing in. He put both in his breast pocket and smiled at the way it made him look grown up. “Alright pal. Giddy-up.”
“What?”
“Just go. Go!”
Gordon walked with his bear in front of him, using the large toy as a shield between him and the population of New York. He watched as people shook their heads at him, but no one seemed interested in him, and with his new friend, he set off, in whatever direction his feet happened to be pointing in.
​
((Any comments welcome))
​
ps: I hadn't intended on keeping this one going, but since people have requested it, we'll see how long the ride lasts. The link to this as a serial is
[TO BE CONTINUED...](https://www.reddit.com/r/redditserials/comments/f65fbv/a_celestial_wars_spinoff_gordons_adventure_in_the/)
And I'll put part two up within the next day or so.
update: Make that, right now :D Enjoy!
​
For more of my work: [r/Angel466](https://www.reddit.com/r/Angel466/)
| 2020-02-18T06:14:45
| 2020-02-18T05:59:48
| 1,828
| 296
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[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.
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I held him for the first time in my arm. Those little fingers grabbing mine for the first time, that cry of help as his lungs took the first born breath, his little lips moving in the air while he was sleeping... I'm still holding him, still holding.. Still holding him even though his last breath he took was one week ago...
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He laid with her and stroked her hair.
"I love you." he whispered into ear.
she smiles.
"and I you." she softly coos back.
He kisses her cheek she tilts her head and he kisses her neck before falling back to nuzzle in looking at the roof. The room was very dim and cool and drafty save for the fire in the edge of the room. He had her heat tho. She was so out of his league. He'd admired her from a far for years. how did he get so lucky? he was certain she had no clue who he was.
"why did you take so long to ask me out. How did you not know I smitten with you?" she asked. She could read his mind. I guess that's what happens when two are this madly in love he tells himself. He sighs as if thinking how best to reply.
"I mean... just look at you. and I mean look at me! your so young and beautiful. Me on the other hand-- god. I don't even have all my hair!"
she chuckles a soft hollow chuckle.
"Hey! I like you the way you are!"
he brushes a hand along her good thigh pushing up her silk nightgown. He looks into her eye with loving desire and looks for it back.
"So today the day I finally meet the parents..."She begins. He doesn't see the look back "...I'm so worried they won't--"
**"WRONG!!"** He maniacly bellows.
"No no no!" she pleads. She wasn't at the point where she didn't plead. He slammed down the cigar cutter bladed severing the index finger. Her blood curdling screams filled the air. It made him a little erect.
jumping off the stone operating table he had her chained to he moves over to the metal working fire that dimly lit the room retrieving the metal he had stoked. Grabbing her hand he presses the glowing yellow steel to her stump the sizzle made a beautiful accompany to her moaning pain. throwing the metal across the room he stormed to the door.
"I've told 20 times now." he spoke with cold cruelty and none of the love of before "if you can't get the fucking script right down to the movement queues you are never leaving this place. don't make me take the other eye as well cunt" she just softly cried and babbled all her strength to keep composure gone.
He slammed the door and stopped the recording. This bitch was so selfish, he mused. Her mother still held out hope that she would be found and at this rate there won't be any of her to bury. well not anything that resembles her. He smiled to himself. on a plus they'd save money on the casket he doesn't think they'll need much longer than knee level at this rate.
| 2017-05-31T07:14:34
| 2017-05-31T01:51:06
| 116
| 49
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[WP] In the middle of a fight with a known villain, you, the hero are stopped by a young child. “If you fight the bad guy, and the bad guy fights you, and you both break everything as you go, what makes you think you’re any better than him?” Behind the child, you see the villain silently fist pump.
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“If you fight the bad guy, and the bad guy fights you, and you both break everything as you go, what makes you think you’re any better than him?”
"*That*."
He cocked his head.
"Dude just fucking *fist pumped*."
The boy turned and stared. A chill breeze wandered across the field. The boy stared. Leaves -- part-turned in the first touch of Fall -- flitted past. Finally he spun back around. "Kill him."
My nod was barely perceptible.
"Do it for the children."
"To Hell with the children," I moved past, pulling off my shades to reveal a darker set beneath, "I do it for the money." Leaping into the air, the sonic boom was my only real answer.
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"Look, kid. I'm still figuring this out," the junior hero Cattle Drive said. "I can't fight crime and have an existential crisis at the same time. Rowdy is the only gear I got."
"But, the cost of the jewelry she stole is likely already far outpaced by the damage the single hole you plowed through all those store fronts," the young girl said as the villain Haberdash danced behind her before nodding somberly and fist bumping the girl.
"Well, what would you have me do instead?" Cattle Drive asked, spitting out the last bit of glass.
"Use a power mitigation superhero when working in dense environment," she said, reaching up and pulling the top hat off the villain and tossing it to sail on the wind.
"Damn, kid, that's cold." Cattle Drive smirked as he pulled out his lasso and threw to the now helpless villain. "They're starting a new school to try and get this town back in shape after the Hero's Ball Massacre. Wanna join?"
"Heck yes," the little girl said. "Null, pleasure to meet me you."
\---
Thanks for reading.
If you liked this, check out /r/surinical to see more of my prompt responses and other writing.
| 2021-04-18T06:36:57
| 2021-04-18T06:02:21
| 151
| 86
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[WP] A zombie outbreak has occurred but scientists/the government actually managed to prevent an apocalypse. You're a scientist analyzing the zombie-virus when you make a horrible discovery...
..Or any discovery at all, I'm too late for Halloween anyway.
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See, you know how ebola doesn’t spread very fast? Diseases that require person to person contact – through saliva or other bodily fluids – are slow moving. That makes then pretty easy to contain. Despite what most people think, the CDC actually does it’s job pretty well, and they’ve had practice. They even have a zombie outbreak survival plan – though it meant as a tongue-in-cheek preparation list for handling any outbreak.
So when the zombie plague finally hit, forces were mobilized in hours. NYC was locked down. Of course it was NYC – it’s a huge city, with ports that have incoming and outgoing traffic all day. Borough by borough they cleared the quarantine zone, and in the end only a hundred zombies had been created.
A few were transported to Plum island, as the closest Biohazard level 4 containment lab. Even the ocean breezes carry any pathogens the lab might accidentally release out to sea, where they hopefully die over the vast blue depths. Most bacteria don’t have a long half life. There were huge political arguments, but in the end the government won the right to hold half a dozen zombies in containment for further study – to analyze and process the virus in the hopes of finding a cure.
Mary Anne had worked in the lab – she’d been one of the first to sign up. Both as a post-doc with a focus on epidemiology, and as a big time zombie fan, she had lept at the opportunity to study the virus. So she didn’t find showering in and showering out, and changing clothes, and all the other biohazard precautions to be tedious, but rather exciting.
Most of the work was routine, analyzing the protein sequences and basic form and function of the previously unknown virus. Her colleagues attempted to classify it – did it have a close viral relative? Where had it come from? Was it newly evolved? While others attempted to recreate it’s effects in other species. Months of effort discovered it to be a newly evolved virus, and one that only seemed to affect primates, and not other mammal species.
Mary Anne’s focus was on transmission and latency periods – she monitored the time from initial infection to symptom onset in her small colony of spider monkeys. Lower level primates weren’t the best model, but they worked.
That was, until late one night, as Mary Anne wrapped up her data. She did her end of day check on all her animal subjects, and found monkeys in the room next door came displaying symptoms of the zombie virus. Monkeys who had never been exposed intentionally. She ran back to her lab and started further testing.
She had time to send one email to their bosses in DC. It said simply:
“VIRUS HAS MUTATED! Airborne transmission now possible.”
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I had to triple-check. Quadruple-check.
I was right.
The virus wasn't a virus at all. It was just evolution - the apes who used to live among our branches climbed down, invented the wheel and next thing you know they almost wiped us out along with themselves.
How can you prevent something like THAT from happening again!?!
| 2015-11-02T15:53:05
| 2015-11-02T13:20:05
| 22
| 14
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[WP] As a vampire, I follow traditions. My fiancé is human and just found out that human brides/grooms are to be bit to become a vampire themselves. She absolutely refuses to let that happen, and says the wedding is off unless I refuse to bite her. I feel like she's disrespecting tradition. AITA?
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NTA
Honestly, your fiancé sounds like a piece of work. I am not a vampire but I did grow up in a Japanese household and my parents made sure that I was raised with Japanese culture and customs in mind. They ingrained in me the importance of my heritage and that it important for the world to accept not only our culture, but cultures of all countries around the world.
Now I know that Japanese culture and vampiric culture has many differences. For example, we like sushi and you guys like sleeping during the day. But we are similar in the sense that we should be respected for our beliefs.
My fiance hates sushi. But he eats it every day to show his devotion to me. He is happy to gag on the raw fish that he hates to respect my culture. And I am happy to keep feeding it to him and watch him gag. He asked me to watch the World Cup with him because it is important to him and I told him to fuck off as I shoved another piece of salmon in his mouth to shut him up. It honestly is the healthiest relationship I have ever been in and I am so happy that I married him.
If your fiancé will not do this for you; will not let you bite her on the neck, will not let you pierce her skin so blood drips down and she screams in pain, will not let you change her entire lifestyle as a show of devotion to you, then you should leave her ass by the curb.
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INFO:
Firstly, how long did the two of you date prior to your engagement, and how much discussion did the two of you have regarding your eventual \[undead\] lives? Most relationship issues can be solved with clear and honest communication; whether to keep finances separate or combine them, whether or not to have/create offspring, whether to continue a monogamous relationship or allowing for additional vampire brides, etc, these topics should have been discussed thoroughly to determine whether your undead/life goals were truly compatible.
Secondly, what is the age gap between the two of you? Sometimes a marked difference in maturity levels can lead to conflict. Even amongst humans, May–December romances can be quite complicated due to generational differences, so I can only imagine the misunderstandings that must ensue in a 21st century–Pre Industrial era romance. With these generational difference there are oftentimes a great deal of misalignment in what each party assumes are "givens."
My advice would be to sit down and have an honest discussion *now* around relationship goals and how the two of you plan to spent either her remaining years or eternity together. Good luck.
| 2022-11-28T19:14:11
| 2022-11-28T18:42:15
| 35
| 21
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[WP] A person's superpowers emerge during- and relate to- a highly stressful moment in their life. Your brother nearly drowned, and as a result could shape water to his will. A classmate fell from a high balcony, and ended up learning to fly. You? You just got your powers last night.
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We were out in the storm for hours, the water rising in the hull.
It started on a great day with my parents and my best friend, I suppose she might even be called my girl friend. We went fishing over spring break, which was weird, because none of us have fished before. There was a guide for the first couple of day, but he let us go that day because his kid had been caught up in a bad car crash that morning. I prayed for him so dearly, unaware of my own fate and of how I should have been praying for someone else.
We had an engine issue near the end of the day as it was getting dark. It wouldn't start back up. We radioed in to the bay master and told him of our troubles, but we never got a response. This little island was full of third world problems and of failing infrastructure, but the bay master not answering was our fatal push.
The storm came in over night while we slept. We had shut the emergency power off and were going to try again in the morning. Before we got too hungry. We were only a couple miles off the coast, but that was too far to swim. We didn't chat before we fell asleep, we fell off and into our various dreams quietly and warily. We knew we would get out of this fine, but our hearts didn't let us feel that way.
Over night a storm picked up and our boat was hit by lighting. Normally not what one would expect from a fishing trip, but we at least got lucky because it put a series of small fractures in the hull that leaked water slowly. We were filling a bucket of water and pouring it out over and over again, but the water level still rose and the storm kept on.
My father was one of the thermo-mancers. He could create and control heat. He kept the whole boat a balmy 90° and that was all he could do. Him heating up the sky would not help much, and it would use far too much energy anyways. He was doing his best with the engine and was pulling parts out and replacing them.
My mother is a lithomancer. A master of rock. She could bend it and change its makeup to a large extent, but from where we were, she was useless. She could not reach the sea floor so far below us. She was on the radio repeating over and over again, calling out to the bay master. Such a beautiful face, now contorted and ugly with the fear that her and her children would die.
My best friend Elise was bailing water with me. She was a little smaller than I was, but also slightly stronger. She had been playing hockey most of her life, and it showed. She would carry the bucket up the stairs and dump it over the edge of the boat, then drop it down the stairs while I caught it and filled it with more water. Every couple of minutes we would switch. She was getting tired too, she couldn't deny it. Her power was with plants. She could help them grow and develop them in unique ways, some times she would give a cactus that was being over watered a strange root system and all of a sudden the owner could keep on watering the little guy too much. Or she would go to a tree that was struck by lightning and the whole thing would come to life and grow as if it had merely decided to split in half. I loved her. I really did. I still miss her years later.
She was my best friend, my shoulder to cry on. Someone whom I gave all my time and energy to. She was the reason I carried on the search for weeks, on the edge of 2 months.
When the boat was hit by lightning again, everything went dark, everything just went out. Looking back on it, I think I died. When I had come back to the world it was on fire. Something large and flammable had been hit and had exploded. I couldn't find anyone or anything I even recognized. I was screaming, water filling my throat as I struggled to move aside debris to find anyone at all.
At one point I found my mother and in me something clicked. It was like the feeling of vomiting. When you are done, your body let's go and has a sigh of relief. Her beautiful body charred and mangled was too much to handle and I vomited into the water around me. Then I felt the sky erupt with force, the clouds for miles above me swirling and roiling together in a carefully balanced dance of elements. I felt as lightning built up and charged, igniting the world as they leapt from cloud to cloud.
The water beneath me was filled with air as I rose up on pillars of air and roared forward. My mother was unconscious and I very much nearing that. I flew for miles at blistering speeds, not caring for the biting wind or the sharp rain that speared me. I hit the edge if the bay and saw destruction. The edge of the city was melted away in massive waves of water. The clif line now more of a ramp. I set her down deep into the town as people came out to see me. They knew what she needed and were immediately looking for a healer.
I saw a short walking staff nearby and grabbed it without caring for the consequences. Theft was not something for me to be worried about. Someone called out to me as I launched myself back into the air.
I learned on the way back I could clear the storms as easily as I could crack my knuckles. And bring them in even more easily. I cleared the single largest non-hurricane storm ever seen on this planet in a matter of minutes as I flew back. All I could think about was Elise and how I never told her that I loved her. A frivolous thought for someone so young, but nonetheless one I had.
My father's body was floating, his skin melted to a large floating piece of insulation from the fridge. He had been killed by the lighting alone, the coroner told me. I never found her though.
To this day I go around the world, searching for her in the depths of the oceans, chasing tales of a mermaids and of deep sea monstrosities that may have taken her as their own. Sanity started to slip. And I have followed my path, searching for her until I find her or I stop everything altogether.
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Jan 2, 2022
USA
Operation Stark progress log,
Day 365
Today marks the 1 year anniversary of Operation Stark. So far, the government has been unavle to create a human weapon that can control radioactive elements. The deathtoll is, as of now, 314 people.
Day 370
Test subject #322 did manage to awaken an ability during the test though it was not tge ability to control uranium as hoped. He gained the ability to bend metals and escaped. After 3 hours of running and tracking, he was neutralized.
Day 376
Nothing of note to report. Death count : 327
Day 380
Test subject number 331 has become the first person to awaken the ability to control Uranium. However, his skill was too low to avoid radiation poisoning. He is currently in critical condition and is not expected to live past midnight. However, we have been able to narrow down the ideal settings for the radiation chamber. Hopefully, we will have success before the end of tge war.
Day 384
The government has increased our funding as well as the number of test subjects we receive. Test subject number 340 also gained the ability to control Uranium, but met the same end as test subject number 331.
Day 387
The first person to succesfully escape the nuclear chamber after obtaining the power to control Uranium has been found. He is now being trained to control his powers.
Day 390
"In a tragedy, 28 scientists have died at a nuclear research centre today. The cause of this disaster is unkown. However, as you can see here, a man in shackles was seen limping away from tge ruins of the plant. Could be be the culprit?"
"Stupid news! They dont even know what was happening there, yet they accyse me. Well, no worries they will never capture me, as long as I hace these powers."
| 2021-04-01T06:10:57
| 2021-04-01T03:41:16
| 18
| 11
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[FF] As the new private eye in town, you've seen a lot of cases that made you scratch your head. But never one as odd as this. 400 words or less.
* 400 words or less
* Try to write in the noir style (awful similes and metaphors are encouraged)
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I slammed my restored '67 Impala's door behind me as I stepped into the grimy night. Patrolmen had already sectioned off the scene. Gawkers flocked to the sight like starved dogs at a dead squirrel convention. I flashed my badge at the young gun posted at the borderline and ducked under the tape.
The precinct chef was already surveying the victim. Good guy, but fatter than a sweet-toothed nun with a glandular problem.
"What have we got here, Lou?"
"Detective." He stood and nodded. "Looks like pancakes. Based on the consistency, it looks like some souped up Aunt Jemima mix. Although with these buttery top notes, Bisquick isn't out of the question."
Two thin, pajama-clad legs poked out the bottom of a massive pancake like two chopsticks sticking out the bottom of a massive pancake.
"Fourth case this month," I said. "Any witnesses?"
"None, Detective."
"This guy's trickier than the back of the Village Voice on a lonely Friday night, Lou."
"You said it." Lou ripped off another chunk near the center to get a sample.
A horrifically burnt young man's face lay underneath. His mouth filled with baked dough. He had been trying to eat his way out.
"Christ son, you look less recognizable than a MoMA exhibition."
"Please... help..."
I bent down real close. "Tell us son. Who did this?"
"It was late... I didn't want a whole meal. That's all." He started tearing. "The man wouldn't stop yelling. He said... 'You must be joking, mate. Pancakes for facking dinner? Instant? Piss on that! Why don't you pull your finger out your ass and make a proper supper!'" The young man sobbed wildly.
"This will all be over soon. We're going to catch this guy. Did you get a name, son? Anything at all?"
"Ramsay... Gordon Ramsay."
"Good. That's great son. Let us get you something to ease the pain." I stepped away, unable to bear the sight of suffering anymore. "Syrup! Get this man some maple syrup! Now damnit!"
Two medics skittered towards us like a pair of West Virginians at a chicken chase.
"We've got a name, Lou. We're gonna nab this bastard." I sparked a menthol as they poured Canadian brown into the mess of a man's open mouth. This night was just getting started.
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Jack Jones had the complexion of a leather boot and the personality of an over-brewed coffee. He almost believed it was these two qualities alone that had made him into the renowned Private Eye he was today. People couldn't care less if you could track down an adulterer or solve a grisly murder in less time than it took to search the phonebook for alternatives. It was all about style, this game. At least, he told himself that as he lit the hand-rolled cigarette he hated so much, feet on the worn wooden desk in a part of town rats didn't frequent for fear of getting mugged. It was raining and Jack's left knee was hurting, so he assumed there was a client coming.
And at eleven-thirty sharp, just as the lunchtime rush began at the seedy Chinese restaurant-cum-brothel opposite, the bell rang.
"See 'em in, Gina." Jack barked, before remembering that Gina wasn't around no more. She'd given her notice after the Italian mob sent a firebomb through the letterbox. Jack'd sent her flowers, but it turns out flowers don't make up for third degree burns.
So he stood up and got the door himself, cigarette still hanging out the corner of his mouth like a half thought-out statement he was trying to retract.
"Detective." The woman on the other side of the door was beautiful in a way which would make other people say she was beautiful, but Jack could see the loose skin around her neck and the crows feet around her eyes, not quite disguised by the scarf and makeup which probably cost more than a 'three course meal' at the resto-brothel across the road.
"Not any more." Jack growled. "Take a seat."
She didn't.
"I need to speak to you about extremely private matters."
"Is it your husband?"
She gasped. "How did you know?"
"It's always a husband. He cheating?"
She turned white under the makeup.
"No," she whispered, hands clutching the back of the chair Jack kept reserved for clients and the police.
"What is it then?"
"I-" She faltered. "I need you to help me kill him."
| 2014-05-08T08:06:29
| 2014-05-08T05:47:17
| 28
| 13
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[WP] Everyone is born with a natural tattoo of their spirit animal. Every person gets the traits and abilities of their respective animal. But when you were born your father, having a bear tattoo and your mother, bearing a dove tattoo, were horrified. Leviathan.
Edit. Wow thank you to everyone who submitted thie stories here. Never expected it to blow up this much.
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By rights I shouldn't exist. With the pairing of bear and dove, they expected something smaller. A wolf, perhaps, or an eagle. Something fast, yet powerful. Strong, yet humble. No one prepared for me.
The marks determine one's place in society. My father, with his unequaled strength, led the tribe to greatness. My mother, in her compassion, watched over our people. It was an age of prosperity unlike any seen in memory.
At my birth there were cries of anguish and shock. I'm told my father fought bravely, defending my mother as she escaped. I've heard how his great arms bulged as he struck down his former companions, before collapsing from his various wounds. My mother told me of his cry of rage as the tribe closed in around him before turning towards her.
She escaped. Not even she can tell me how, but we lived. Thanks to my mother's love and my father's strength, I survived. I've heard the stories as long as I can remember. Ever since I was old enough to ask about our marks. Her dove with wings spread wide on her forearm. The creature coiling up my leg, around my torso, mouth opened wide across my chest, showing countless teeth.
A leviathan. That is the word my mother heard uttered before the elders ordered my destruction. The only forbidden creature, an omen of destruction for the tribe. They were right.
I stand now on a hill overlooking my former people, camped by the water's edge. I watch the mothers pull their children in from the rain. I can hear, over the howl of the gale, the men discussing their latest hunt. As I close my eyes, savoring the moment, relishing my anticipation, I hear my mother's cries in my memory, her pleas of forgiveness, not for herself, but for the people who tried to kill her. I think back to that night, as she lay dying in the wilderness that was my home.
A fury as ancient as my animal wells within me at the thought. A hatred as deep as the ocean in which the leviathan lives. The storm within rages as the rain around grows heavier. I've returned to the water. I've returned to my people, bare-chested, that they will see the source of their destruction. As I reach the first tent, the fury boils over, and over the storm my roar can be heard.
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I chuckled to myself as I wiped the blood from my knuckles, and dragged my victim further into the dark alley he had attempted to rob me from. Now victim might normally be seen as a harsh word in such cases of self defense, he had lurched from the shadows in a frantic twitching blur, held his knife to my chest, you know how these things go. He couldn't possibly have known I was in as little danger from his knife as if he had plucked a dandelion from the sidewalk and instead had attempted to crush it against my chest.
As I dump his insensate body behind the nearest dumpster I catch a glimpse of a neon orange stain on his wrist. Pulling back his sleeve I see confirmation of what I had already suspected, a bright orange mongoose tattoo, wrapping around his wrist. Now whoever I'm talking to might not know this about our world, but we aren't exactly like all of the other multiverses, in our world, nearly everyone is born with a boon of some sort. These boons are codified by the location, color, and shape of a series of markings that appear on each person's skin, darkening from basically invisible as a child until it solidifies somewhere around an individual's teenage years, longer for more potent or larger ones, sooner for a very few. Much later for me.
Most people get something simple, my mother had a small, sketchlike dove at her temple, barely visible beneath her hairline and beginning to blend into her face even more as age and worry began to wrinkle her face, but beautiful in her pictures from her younger years. Her abilities are tied to empathy, able to sense emotions from other although not able to project them upon others like an arm or leg-marked person might. Even though, her abilities were extremely useful when dealing with people, an incredible boon to her job as a therapist, as one could imagine. My father and this guy were similar but different. Both were arm-marked, the sign of a power meant to be used in a more practical fashion. This guy was marked with a mongoose, I assume granting him incredible doses of speed over short bursts, thinking back to his appearance from the alley. Probably exceedingly useful in a life of crime i thought to myself as I crumpled his knife into a ball in my hand. Don't worry, we'll get to me soon. Where was I?
Oh yes, my father. My father was also arm-marked, although his was upon his very upper bicep, extending partially to his shoulder, a bear climbing a tree of flesh and laying his head on the top. this positioning technically gives him two positions, arm major with a chest minor. His tattoo is one of strength. My dad however was not a thieving douchebag, he worked in construction all his life, school never much being for him, and as a practical man, figured he'd stick with where he fit in. His words, not mine. I can still remember the stories of his prowess, doing alone jobs that most men would need a vehicle or a team for, lifting great slabs of cement to square them off just so, bending rebar like it was wire, once stopping a loaded truck from rolling back over a dog between its tires by bracing against the rear bumper, you get the picture.
Now both my parents were exceptional in their own way, most with marks of empathy would still need physical contact to do what my mother does, and most marked with strength still have the weak bones of a human under their powerful muscles, inherently limiting what they can do, although that is mostly explained from dad's partial chest mark. But neither of my parents are monsters like me.
See, I was born with a large dark splotch covering my entire back, winding around my upper arms, even extending up my neck to wrap around the crown of my head. This in itself wasn't unusual, sometimes the markings are indistinct at birth, appearing in one location only to move to another, or growing or shrinking with time. They were allowed to leave with only the instruction to report back when my tattoo finally manifested. What they didn't expect was for my marking to grow, to darken and spread, wrapping around my ribcage and firmly grasping each extremity in its clutches. I was kept away from other children, at first I thought as punishment, but later realized for my own good. New tattoos are met with suspicion from every level until their abilities are fully known, and mythical tattoos doubly so. Mythical level tattoos are said to inherently determined to be both living weapons, more so than any other. They are thus to be kept in ward of the state, theoretically until they are fully trained and capable of self sufficiency without harming others, but practically forever, most ending up serving as envoys of their government, envoys with extra bite, super soldiers, rulers, assets of the state. My parents didn't want such an end for me and so they lied, submitted me as snake marked, arms. Not common but not especially rare.
I am so much more. By my twentieth year my markings had solidified, a Giant creature, an ungodly amalgam of serpent, whale, kraken, and dragon. Extending from my upper thighs to the crown of my head, winding around my neck and arms while conveniently leaving my hands and face uncovered, my tattoo was entirely unknown. It took me years as a teenager to find any record of what it could be and as I settled on an answer, it had filled my heart with dread. Leviathan.
Most powers are not particularly overt, a subtle increase in strength, speed, durability. Small mental powers and the like. Mine, and by extension, all Mythics, have more blatant powers. The Dragon flies, and projects fire and lightning. The Phoenix functions like a lesser version of Dragon, but cannot be killed, immolating herself and reappearing nearby in a matter of hours, completely unharmed. Gorgon can turn anything in his sight to stone. Siren can turn anyone who hears her voice into mindless followers. Monsters, all of them. My strength manifested shakily in my late teens as a growing feeling of weight. I thought I was going insane, my feet stuck to the floor, I could hardly stand, chairs broke under me when I was at my worst, and even at my best i felt listless and dull. until one day in a fit of rage I broke a light across the room, tearing it from its moorings and grinding it into the ground. Smashed the glass to powder. That was how I discovered my mental power, a type of telekinesis only effective in two fashions, either to pull things towards me, or to push them into the ground. My other capabilities came shortly after. My strength is as good, and probably even better than if I wasn't holding back, my dad's. I am nearly impossible to hurt in any meaningful fashion as I discovered alongside the ability to pull things with my mind. Hurt as in injure, the brick had definitely hurt when i caught it with my face.
Anyhow the unleashing of these powers brought a whole new wave of paranoia from my parents. I wasn't allowed o cut my hair to show my neck, I was likewise encouraged to make a habit of wearing long sleeved shirts and turtlenecks, never even to show my relatively innocuous coils around my arms. Never allowed to do anything dangerous, never allowed to test myself, they moved us deep into the countryside, forbid high school, pleaded with me to skip going to college, paying for online courses. I was sick of it. Two days ago I had enough. I packed my essentials, left a note for my mother to find, and hiked 6 miles to the nearest small town to catch a bus back to the city. Here I could make something of myself, here i could put my powers to use, I told myself. But all I had done since was spend all my money at a two star hotel, get most of my stuff robbed while I was out of said two star hotel, and then get jumped by this punk while on a stroll to clear my head. Apparently nobody wants to hire a drifter with no references, phone, or address.
"Frankly," I said aloud, turning back to his unconscious body from my musing, "this has been the most excitement I have had since I got in town." I began rummaging through his pockets. Three empty billfolds later I hit the jackpot. three hundred dollars in various bills in a side pocket, wrapped in a rubber band like from a movie. I stand up. "Prosperous day you've had eh? Decided to test your luck one last time? One time too many I guess." Riffling through the wallets I notice an absence of any identifiers, no cards or licenses. He must have gotten rid of them. "Well thanks for the entertainment," I call over my shoulder as I exit the alley, "You should know this is actually the best time I've had in weeks!" My mouth turns upwards at the corners, a hint of a smile on my lips as I exit the alley and into the streets. He had given me an idea of what a monster such as me could do.
| 2017-11-08T05:54:13
| 2017-11-08T05:45:47
| 32
| 16
|
[WP] Rampant use of performance enhancing drugs amongst elite Olympic athletes coupled with lifetime bans has led to the creation of the "Performance Games" which encourages pushing the limits of human ability by any means possible. But what happens when things are taken too far?
|
He stepped forward, chalked up his hands, ready to lift the bar, loaded with weights which would've seemed unreal the games before. The motors in his shoulders were set to overload, and he'd made sure his engineers had ensured there'd be no failures. Stepping forward, all eyes on him, he lifted. He won.
After a long night of celebrations, he decided to see what pushing the limits of the human body had to his natural strength. It had been a long time since the gym had seen the likes of such a determined competitor, ready to sacrifice everything to win. The overhead lights illuminated his metallic shoulders, and the exo skeleton grafted to his skin.
As he set all the performance enhancers to Off, a sense of anticipation surged through him, one he'd not felt for a long time. Chalking up his hands, he set the bar at a weight which he'd seen non-enhanced beginners lift.
Alas, he could not. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't, and never could. Organics sacrificed for mechanics, there was no going back. The realisation was far worse than anything he'd ever felt.
He sat there, and wept
|
Morgan's piston legs screeched as he ran forward. Morgan was powerful, mighty beyond belief, a god. He felt every foot of distance beneath him crumble away as his overtly buff body worked tirelessly. Everything was numb, the amount of pills and drugs he had taken in the last 24 hours blazed in unison leaving him in a state of complete and utter focus, noticing nothing but the line. If Morgan could still smile, he would. He ascended into the air, sailing above the bystanders in the crowd, the horrified referees, over the bar. Bits of meat, bits of Morgan, molted off his flailing frame. That record was his, and nothing would keep him from it.
| 2014-08-24T07:08:38
| 2014-08-24T06:42:37
| 125
| 73
|
[WP] When people turn 18, they gain the power to summon 1 random thing in the world to their hand, as Thor does to Mjolnir. Summoned people are considered soulmates, and objects as important parts of one's life. When you summon yours, it takes some time, but people are horrified when it arrives...
|
Mother and Father stood nearby, looking expectantly at me as I took my place in the center of the rooming facing the great grandfather clock that command the attention of everyone.
Along the edges of the room waited the rest of our family and friends, all in attendance with me as the hour of my birth; 11:59pm, 18 years ago to the minute, neared. Soon it would be time for my summoning. The moment when all those who upon the hour of adult hood will hold out their hand and have their one thing appear. For some a person appears, this who is destined to be your great soulmate and the love of your life, like when my mother summoned my father. For others it is an object of great importance, integral to their life and identity, like our protector Donar Woodenson, the thunder bringer and guardian of humanity, wielding his mighty hammer.
The seconds ticked away as the lights dimmed and our fiends and family leaned in expectantly, I held out my hand like father had taught me. As I did so I felt the power of the cosmos begin to whirl around me as the hour of my birth arrived! The minute hand moved to 11:59 pm, here goes nothing I thought.
And exactly nothing happened!
Aunts and Uncles looked at each other confused; while my younger Cousin laughed at my misfortune, my face burned with embarrassment as I stared at my empty hand confused. Was I cursed, what had gone wrong?
“An ill omen” tittered my great aunt poppy, as she clucked disapprovingly.
“Nonsense” my father boomed, striding across the floor to me.
“Sometimes it just takes a minute or two, nothing to fret about son” he said as the words wrapped around me in comfort like the arm he placed on my shoulder, “why when I was your age…” he started to say but never got the chance to finish for at that moment the great clock struck midnight, the witching hour and the bells inside the imposing temple to father time played there deep and brassy tune.
Suddenly the room was filled with a surge of power that silenced all murmurs as electricity crackled through the air. It centered on me and my still outstretched hand as my father backed away. I could feel the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end as I felt the anticipation flow through me. The chimes of the clock turned to thunder, and the air in the room was rent by light as strange shapes of no earthly form appeared before my eyes. The room was pervaded by the deep smell of the sea, a not so pleasant smell of rotting fish and decaying seaweed. Then a hellish sound as if a million souls were crying out desperate in their damnation at losing hope. People clapped their hands to there ears, some falling to their knees, struck dumb by the sound.
Then just as suddenly as it had begun, the ordeal was over, before me holding my hand was a creature of unimaginable horror, with the greenish body of a man, the wings of a dragon, the head of an octopus and the eyes of a demon. CTHULHU!!!!
In my abject horror at the monster I had summoned, I tried to dispel this foul creature, yet before this thought could fly from my head, my summoned creation beheld me in its gaze and my soul fled my body in panic, and my consciousness was shattered by madness, rooting me in place, forced to watch as this Doom of an old god struck down my family who were unable to flee, as his very visage drove sanity from their minds and reduced them to mumbling stupor.
With each death, he grew greater, until his hideous form broke through the roof, he bowed down and almost lovingly scooped me, his unwitting parent into his embrace, as he walked forth into the world, to destroy it and awaken his slumbering brothers beyond the veil of this reality. I could only hope that the defender of man will defeat him, but my son has taken away my hope, my fear, my pain, my joy, and my love, an so I am forced to watch the end that I have summoned through eyes that can now only hold Terror.
|
*"There are two types of people in this world - the living and the dead. Those who have found their purpose and received their divine gift are those who we count among the living. So weep not for those who passed young, for they were already among the dead."*
Angry. That was the only way I have felt my entire life from the day my younger brother died. Initially, it was a shocking moment for the entire community as with the advancement we have had in the past century early deaths were rare. The whole world seemed to grieve that moment as it was akin to losing limitless potential. Had it only stayed that way. Had things never would have changed.
Yet that's just the way life has always been. A tumultuous mess filled with the cruelty of those who sought power over others. And taking control over others was a lot easier than most thought it to be. After all, it only took 48 words for James to rewrite peoples beliefs.
It didn't mean much to me at the time but that was because I didn't truly understand the implications of those words. As time pressed on his grip over us all became firmer and the next generation became a thing of the past. No longer did adults confer with children, for it was now seen as a taboo. After all, nowhere in history did the living ever talk to the dead.
I didn't blame James for this, he was just a man who fervently believed in his ideals. I blamed the selfishness of those who listened to him. James was merely a fanatic who truly believed that focusing on those who had direction would be the most efficient way to get through life.
It made sense at the simplest level but he forgot to factor that those who are now untrained would soon join the ranks of the living. When the dead are left to wander it is only the living that suffers, yet no matter how much I propagated this message no one would listen to me. For talking to the dead was taboo.
Soon, however, I would have a chance to change all of this. Soon, I would be able to change the sins of my forefathers. For today was the morn of my 18th birthday and I now waited patiently in front of the 'gates of birth'. Once I crossed the threshold I would be able to call to the world and it would answer. And once the world answered me, so to would they have to.
I would be the bridge that tethers the living to the dead. I would remind them that their ideologies were flawed and those who had no direction were still very much alive.
Suddenly my thoughts were interrupted as the gates slowly creaked open and James stood in his elegant gown with his arms outstretched welcoming me forward. I remembered the way this would always play out - the gates would open and James would pull the newest member of the living to the side and talk with them for some time. After conversing he would send them forward to the central pedestal to call upon the world to answer their cries.
Without missing a beat I walked straight past James to the room to the side he would always take the dead to. I didn't need to put up with their rituals, I just wanted to get this done as soon as possible.
"What do you want Ja-"
James, who always stood so proudly in front of the people was collapsed on the floor with tears streaming down his face.
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I had never meant for them to take those words that way. I just wanted-"
I remembered clearly now. Every time James would take to the stage their would always be faded tears on his face. There was always a cruel look of regret hugging close to him. I don't know what he was trying to accomplish with those words, but it was his fault for forgetting that words have power. That you could never take back actions. That he never actually tried to right his wrongs.
*So I'm sorry to James. For I cannot forgive you for all you have done. You have had all the time in the world to change what you could've done, but that time is past. Regret for the rest of your life what you have put in motion.*
And so I pushed past James leaving him shocked on the floor, but somewhere in that shock, I felt as though I could see a hint of acceptance. Maybe even longing. I didn't care now, for it was finally my time.
There was a rage barely lying beneath the core of my being that I had to force myself to ignore. I didn't care about the people around me. All I cared about was what I could do going forward.
And so, I called to the world.
There was a brief pause as everyone held their breath. Normally when people made the call they were answered instantly. But it was as if the world understood my request and knew what must be done. And what must be done took time.
When that time finally came people looked at me with horror but all I could answer them with was a bittersweet smile.
For as I called to the world, certainly did it answer.
| 2019-09-18T08:16:27
| 2019-09-18T07:55:38
| 57
| 37
|
[WP]You receive a message, "Reply Yes if you can survive the last video game you played." You answer Yes. Your vision blanks and you open your eyes finding that you are at the beginning of said game. You hear a voice "To leave you must win. Your prize is all you gain in this world. Good luck"
|
I had assumed it was one of my friends. I'm really terrible about saving phone numbers. So I texted them: "Yeah, why? Who is this?" and immediately I felt the world slipping away.
I could feel the sun on my skin. It was warm out -- curious, considering it was February and I had previously been sitting in my kitchen at a quarter past midnight. Pain stabbed behind my eyes and I squeezed them closed. That ominous message played in my ears, and I finally got a good look at where the hell I was.
Bright green grass was all around me. I could see pigs and sheep in the distance over rolling green hills. Everything had gone cubed, and I pinched myself to check if I was dreaming. Even if I couldn't have made up something this weird. I start to look around, because I always play Minecraft with a bonus chest on (sue me; I like having an easy start!)
Sure enough, a few feet behind me is a chest framed by four torches. I get a few apples, some sticks, a wooden pickaxe, and a few pieces of birch wood. I take the chest with me and start pulling up grass with my hands until I've found a few seeds I can salvage.
I can see a desert in the distance, and I know that I have excellent luck with temples and villages. I put my pickaxe on my back and start walking. Let's hope I can find a decent cliff-face to build a hobbit hole in before the sun sets -- I've never done well against skeletons.
|
The voice faded into my mind as another came.
"Hey, Khontis. You seriously napping?"
My eyes opened as a strangely familiar face came to view.
"You sure know how to sleep. It was sure nice of Naoya ask us to meet him out here on a hot day like this, huh?"
I grunted and rubbed my eyes as I took him in, a blue t-shirt with a white hat, bright eyes and a bag with a laptop in it was slug over his shoulder. This was, in every sense, Atsuro.
Behind him stood a boy in a black shirt with headphones on, his eyes were careful and aware. "Kazuya met with us here." Atsuro continued, "So how have you two been? Normally I see you two during the school year so I feel like it's been forever."
Kazuya, known as Abel among his friends as his mobile handle...I couldn't help but wonder...Deep down inside how this would turn out.
Kazuya, the reincarnation of Abel. If this was the game I would think that position would be me. But with another here...
"Hey, what's wrong Khon? You doing okay?" Atsuro asked.
"Uh...fine. Anyway, what does your cousin want?"
"OH THERE You all are!" A female voice called.
"Oh hey, here comes YooHoo." Atsuro smiled.
I didn't need to look to know. A redhaired girl wearing pink. Her bag looked heavy, all I could think of as Yuzu yelled at the two boys for using her old nickname was if there was a COMP in there for me.
After a few bummed looks and sighs of disappointment Yuzu handed htem out. A blue one for Atsuro, a red one for Kazuya, a pink one for Yuzu.
She turned and tossed one into my lap.
And a purple one for me.
I opened it up but didn't bother turning it on. I knew it would have to wait for the rest, I also knew what would be said.
The Laplace Mail about the man near where Naoya lived would be killed. And later tonight the Wendigo would show up.
I would have to fight demons.
To be honest, I wasn't *too* worried. I mean at first I'd be really up a creek, always was the first time around with the first of the Bel's but I had played and beat this game so many times I understood the strategy. And I always loved the Megami Tensei games. But...
They were games. If I died here...
I'd have to live.
"Peaceful Days died. Lets survive" I whispered.
"Huh? what's wrong?" Kazuya asked.
"Nothing."
"Well... I need to do more research. Why don't you guys head off and hang around."
"Sounds good." Yuzu replied and I followed the pair as their conversation carried like I remembered.
It wasn't long before we heard a voice calling out.
"Now along with our Shomonkai, let us bring the world together! With the power of the internet the world will be one once more!"
Yuzu gripped along as Kazuya rolled his eyes and they spoke. Even more trouble.
"Hey! You coming?" Yuzu called as they moved through the crowds to leave. I held the comp tightly in my hands, not wanting to release it. There'd be trouble if I did. Soon...
I looked to my watch. It was almost six and we were walking by Omotesando.
I stood aside as the sirens wailed and Yuzu spoke about Naoya.
We hurried there, and like clockwork a tall man with long hair in a kimono looked to them. "Oh, its you guys. What are you doing here?"
His snake like eyes narrowed at me and I tensed.
Naoya, the reincarnation of Cain.
He spoke to them and continued onward past them toward me. I gritted my teeth as he spoke. "The door of truth will open. Overcome your fate."
He eyed me as they past and I glared at him. "I hope you can overcome this trial as well. Don't leave me disappointed." He whispered.
I glowered.
Naoya *knew* i didn't belong here.
"I'll try to impress." I remarked.
"What was that about?" Yuzu asked.
"Nothing. Lets go."
Kazuya's phone rang and sent us back to Atsuro.
He gave his usual computer talk before Yuzu called him to just unlock them.
I stood ready as they shined and four demons emerged. Kobold, Pixie and Kabuso all for them. Expected.
And before me going after me, was an ogre.
"Nice...Lets go!"
Yuzu screamed as the pixie went after her, Atsuro dodged the Kabuso's attack and Kazuya and I both seemed to be the first to jump to the fray.
The battle was simple but still, I could feel my adrenaline rush as I slammed into the Ogre a final time.
"YOU BEAT OGRE. OGRE NOW YOURS. USE ME IN FIGHT. FIGHT LOTS!" he said as he disappeared.
Yuzu began her freak out as Atsuro calmed her. Finally on the notion to go see Naoya we ended up back in his appartment.
"Look! It's Naoya's box!" Atsuro pointed.
"Yea. it's full of stuff. It looks like he hasn't been here in a long time." Yuzu agreed.
"So we were lucky to see my cousin."
Our Comps lit up with mail and as I read them I knew where they'd lead.
To the cemetary. To Amane.
"Should we go?" Yuzu asked.
"He did say 'person'" Kazuya noted.
"Yea. He would have said 'demon' or someone; if he meant anything else.Lets go."
| 2020-02-16T19:27:29
| 2020-02-16T16:08:36
| 248
| 12
|
[WP] You’re a blacksmith and a woman you’ve never seen before walks into your shop, asking for a blade. She stops by daily to check on it’s progress, and you form a bond over time, until one day she disappears. You’re afraid you’ll never see her again, until you're summoned to the castle.
|
It has always been a childhood dream of mine to live in the great castle beyond the city gates. When I was young, my mother used to tell me stories of the warriors and royalty that resided inside. I have never been so excited. Upon arriving, I am escorted into a large chamber that looked to be used for cleaning the royal linen and preparing food. Lining the walls, giant tapestries, and paintings with gilded frames watch over us. The woman I had been in contact with months prior was scrambling around a table making sure everything was in place.
She spun around to meet me. "Did you bring it?"
"Yes, I came as quickly as I could. Here." I pull out the ornate dagger and place it into her hands.
She rubs her finger along the smooth blade, studying it. Upon reaching the point, a small droplet of ruby-red blood oozes from the tip of her finger. "And the tools?"
"Yes, of course," I said, taking out a rolled-up cloth and unraveling it. "Forgive me. I have not had enough time to finish the last of the runes you've requested. May I ask why I wasn't told of the inscription sooner?"
She flips the dagger over revealing six runes carved into the blade and the outline of a seventh. "I'm sorry to drag you into this, but there was no time," she said. "The incantation was unsuccessful." Placing the blade back onto the table in front of me, she drifts off into a haze, staring at the floor. "I followed the Friar's words exactly—'Bless the transom. Allow the damned to enter. Then recite the prayer until they sleep'," she said as her fingertips wrap around the golden pendant hanging from her neck. She rubs it. "Somehow, it only made them more...violent."
"To whom are you referring?" I asked.
Before she could answer, a loud crash rattles the chamber door. "Please, you must hurry." Frantic, she rushes to the door and places her ear to it.
I reach for the sharpest iron graver I have and begin carving the seventh and last rune. My pace is feverish as the cacophony outside the door grows near. Funny how I finally get to see the inside of this magnificent structure and my only thought now is how quickly I can leave.
With her ear placed flat against the door, she hears a muffled voice barking orders. Her eyes widen as she recognizes the voice. "The King comes!" She scrambles to a nearby table and grabs a shining chalice and dips it into a wooden bucket spilling water over the side. From her satchel, she retrieves a small packet of finely ground white powder and dumps it into the cup. She places the chalice on the cold stone ground and takes her place beside it. Holding the golden pendant in her hand, she begins rocking back and forth and muttering to herself.
I must hurry. Only a few more minutes and the final rune is finished.
With a bang, the door is thrown open, and standing in the wake is the King, a mountain of a man standing as wide as the doorway itself. He enters slowly, the weight of his boots quaking the earth beneath him. "You, there! Who are you?"
"The town's blacksmith, my Lord." She stands and approaches him with her head down. "He is making a special gift for you."
He turns to her and lifts her head with his hand. His gleaming rings are slightly covered by the skin on his fingers suggesting he received them long ago and never removed them. "And who might you be?"
How can he not know her? Surely the King, most of all, should know all of those in his employ.
"The new Laundress, my Lord. Your wife, the Queen, hired me," she said.
"Did she now?" He smirks as he notices the chalice. "And you thought to bring me refreshment on your first day. I applaud your initiative. Continue this and you will be rewarded greatly."
She smiles. "Yes, my Lord. But I bring you more than refreshment."
He licks his lips and rubs his jowls, looking her up and down. "Oh? And what might that be?"
She scowls. "Your doom!"
"What are you doing?!"
With a flick of her wrist, she whips the water out of the chalice and into his face. It sizzles as it bites at his skin. He bellows a low demonic tone and throws her against the wall seemingly without touching her. She crashes into the wooden table breaking it into pieces. I finish the last line of the rune as the King regains his composure. Struggling to find my footing, I grab the dagger and move away from the table.
He stomps toward me, the skin around his eyes melting exposing a bit of bone underneath. "I'm going to rip the flesh from your miserable bones!"
"Now!" the Laundress calls from behind him. "Toss me the dagger!"
I toss the dagger over the King's head and into her poised hands. He turns and, without hesitation, she drives the dagger deep into his chest. As blood spurts out onto her face, his eyes turn solid white and his skin glows red. Lightning flashes out of the wound surrounding the dagger and drops to the floor convulsing. With one final pop, he lays sill, smoke seeping from the wound.
I speak in tongues. I can't collect my thoughts. What is happening?
"Pull yourself together, Blacksmith. That wasn't the King. Not anymore." She grabs my collar and shuffles me toward the door. "We have to go. Now."
As we near the exit, the windows surrounding the room burst open as the wind howls outside. A pungent black smoke rushes in from all directions.
I somehow manage to find some words. "What is it?"
"The Queen." The Laundress, if she ever really was one, flips the dagger in her hand and readies for an attack as we are enveloped in darkness. A sinister cackle echoes through my mind. Then everything goes dark.
Upon awakening, I am looking down on the chamber I once stood in. Across the room is a large painting of a woman resembling the Laundress. Her mouth is contorted as if she were trying to scream. I call out to her but nothing comes out. I can hear the words in my mind. I'm screaming them, but there is no sound. My eyes dart around looking for anything that could help explain what is happening. And then I see it—the ornate dagger pinned to the wall above me. The gilded frame hanging from it surrounds me. It appears that my childhood fantasy has finally come true.
|
As I was walking on the street that leads to the castle with two special guards at my side, I began to question my summon. Was I in some kind of trouble, or this is about the rebellion in the lands of my late father? Even then what would I be of help? I was just a Nord, trying to find my way in the Imperial City by doing smithing to locals. Oh now I get it, maybe someone from higher ranks realized my talents and talked to the emperor about it. And maybe I’ll be one of the lucky ones who will have the honor of serving him on his upcoming trip. That lovely woman told me all about it. I don’t know how she knew all these secret stuff from the palace, but I didn’t care. She was the strangest person I’ve ever met, and the blade she wanted from me... It was my best work thanks to her guidance and regular visits. As I begin to remember the short time we had, our little group reached castle gates. Suddenly, the guards held my arms tightly like I was some kind of a prisoner. Fear filled my body. This was not an invitation. Were my days in this world over? Why, what is the meaning of all this. I tried to resist but there was no escape. Just as I was about to accept my fate, I heard a deafening shout in a foreign language and I lost my consciousness.
...
Shouts, screams, blood. Blood is everywhere and the sky is burning. Dragons flying above me, the ground cannot be seen because of the burned corpses. This is the end, end of everything. A furious dragon approaches me, one can die only by looking at its eyes, reaching me with its razor-sharp claws. And I wake up.
...
Did I go blind? No, it’s just the darkness of the room. I see a silhouette. It's hers. The woman. What was her name, Sophie? I try to say something but no words came out. Then she spoke: ”I know you are confused or even scared. But don’t, because all of this will be a bad nightmare soon. Those guards were taking you to your death. Mages of the emperor whispered your name into his ears and he gave an order. The order that might have saved his life. This was not the end for you, this is just the beginning, father.” Before I even move a muscle, everything went black and my nightmare has finished as I begin to hear a man with a nordic accent talking.
...
Hey you, you are finally awake.
-Hey guys this is my first comment in the sub and English is not my first language, so sorry if I made any mistake.-
Edit: small corrections.
| 2020-08-05T08:55:58
| 2020-08-05T07:18:06
| 48
| 32
|
[WP] The year is 2040, and you are the last smoker alive. The "Quit Smoking" ads get personal.
|
It was 2040. The United States, most would agree, was in phenomenal shape. The economy was booming, contrary to what pundits predicted would become of President Karenna Gore's policies. The air and the water was clean. The average American was considerably healthier than just a decade ago. Nobody in the *world* even smoked tobacco anymore... save for me.
Yes, I was the only human being left on the planet that smoked those cancer-sticks; and I was world famous for it. I guess that makes me an ass-hole. I thought I had a case for myself though. I mean, consider the- "Oh, well that's just great."
I gazed up at the fresh billboard. It was me, with cigarettes protruding from every orifice of my face. Brutal. It gave me a sick feeling. I wasn't angry, just stressed.
"I need a smoke."
I took out one of my beautiful hand rolled stogies. No store sold the stuff anymore. Society had turned me into a craftsman, a modern cowboy living in the city. And they knew exactly where I lived. The ads followed me around like a shadow; pleas from every health organization from A to Z; personal letters from government officials. It was non-stop.
I took a much warranted drag and let out a cloud of smoke through my mouth and nose, much too conspicuously.
"Oh my gosh," said a woman from across the street, stopping her friend and pointing. "Look! It's him!"
I twiddled the stogie in my fingers and glanced casually over at them. I took another drag and headed over to them.
"Hey! Why don't you stop?"
"Yeah. Call it quits. It's not hard."
"Hi ladies. My name's Eliot."
"Yeah. We know who you are."
I smiled and began to raise my cigarette.
"Whoa! Hey!"
"Second hand smoke! Second hand smoke!"
I put my hands up in surrender. "Relax." It was like I'd pulled a gun out. They were backing away. I let the cigarette to the ground and stomped it out as a sign of peace.
One exhaled in relief as she had been holding her breath. "I have a kid you know."
"Okay."
The other sighed. "This might not be my place but-"
"Probably not."
"-you're the last person in the entire world who smokes. You're life must be... very very hard. Why, why don't you just stop? They have amazing programs-"
"Believe me, I'm well aware." I pointed at a magazine stand, where a full row of issues sat with my face on them and the headline 'It's easy, Eliot'.
She looked at the issues. She looked back, struck with a note of sympathy. "It must be stressful."
"Yeeah. The irony."
"Well, is it worth it?"
"It's not just for the smoke itself, crazy as it may sound. It's like a remnant to me. A relic. Something to hold on to." They were intent now. I wouldn't admit it, but it was so nice to have this from someone besides my dog. He's a great dog, don't get me wrong, but it was no challenge getting him on my side. "Clint Eastwood, James Dean- Gandalf- the French! Artists, authors with wooden pipes, and- and politicians chewing on cubans. I know things are better off now but, I miss it. I miss it all."
One of them half smiled. I sure hadn't made anyone smile in a long time. That felt good. She turned to her friend. "Could *one* really hurt that much?" She neared me and gestured at the tobacco box in my jacket pocket. She said, smiling fully, "light me up."
|
I'm really starting to hate CNN, and not just because of their fake news articles.
All eyes have been on me for almost a year and a half. I'm the only person that still smokes, and honestly, at this point, I'm just doing it because I feel like pissing off the rest of the world. It's at the point where I have to grow and roll my own cigs. Marlboro sold me their recipe after they went out of business, and I grow my own tobacco, roll my own stuff, etc. The government has tried everything. First, the Prohibition of 2021, which cut smokers down by 97%. Then came the crackdown on dark web sellers, and eventually everyone got caught smoking. They found the names of people that hadn't signed up for drug tests, until the only people left were the ones off the radar. And then, the military swept the streets and found everyone that was left.
It was May of 2038 when I was announced the last smoker in the United States. But here's the thing: they didn't arrest me. I had gone for multiple tests while smoking, never once did they stop me. Just told me I failed. I think it's because I simply didn't care, and therefore the government didn't care. It's kinda like breaking into a bank, and then when the police come to arrest you, you just say, "No." And then they stop, confused, and just walk away.
Well, after that, of course, you become a national celebrity. The government still wanted me to stop, of course, but they couldn't really make me without locking me in a room for three weeks and making me cold turkey it out. So, first, they tried laws against growing tobacco. "Okay," I said, "You win. SIKE!" And continued to grow more tobacco for myself. Then they tried ad campaigns. This is where it got annoying. I couldn't even go to the grocery store without seeing my face plastered to a wall, smiling back at me with the words "JUST QUIT GREG SCHMIDT" in big red letters surrounding the picture of my head. I was known by all, people pointed me out in the street. It was no use going somewhere else, either. One time I drove from my house in Virginia to New York City, and lo and behold, there I was in the middle of Times Square, my smiling meth mouth of a face looking at me among the words "YOUR FAMILY PROBABLY HATES YOUR FILTHY HABIT." They weren't even trying to rhyme anymore. They straight up hated me and wanted me to stop.
So, when I was 45, 28 years after I had lit up my first cigarette, I decided that there must be something in the Constitution that protects me from this kind of public degradation. Nope. I took it to the Supreme Court and everything, no dice. The only people that liked me were teenagers that thought it was cool to stand up to the government and media sources that made money off of my "developing story of a life." I'm not even kidding. That's what they call my life. The catchphrases aren't much better, if one can even call them catchphrases. Here's a list of my personal favorites:
- SMOKING IS BAD FOR YOU (no shit)
- JUST STOP SMOKING GREG
- WHY DO YOU SMOKE, YOU BIG FUCKING JOKE
- THE POLICE ARE COMING GREG (ahahahhahahhahhahaha)
- (my personal favorite) JESUS CHRIST YOU STUBBORN BITCH
I don't know what to do anymore. My house is the only haven I have, if you consider a building constantly surrounded by paparazzi trying to take a picture of you a haven. I can't order pizza without the people fighting over who gets the chance to deliver the pizza to me. But, I must say, it's fun being known for something. I just wish the advertisements were a little less harsh.
| 2017-02-17T10:43:36
| 2017-02-17T09:45:22
| 174
| 80
|
[WP] as the house you're trapped in burns to the ground you contemplate "how am i gonna explain the fact I'm immortal to the firemen without starting another religion"
|
This is the fifth time I've burned.
Smoke pours through a newly formed hole near the doorway, collecting in a thick cloud along the ceiling. Each breath I take sets my lungs aflame. I guess I never really got used to the pain, after all.
As the flames begin to swallow the door, I hear sirens wail outside. It will be some time before they reach this room, of course. Hell, the rest of the house may very well be gone by then. But they will reach it. And they will find me.
And they will have questions.
My first experience with burning was shortly after earning my immortality. I was young--relatively speaking, of course--and I lost a bet at some bar in Scotland. The bet, of course, was that I could handle being set on fire. Turns out I couldn't.
That doesn't help me much now, of course. The door is gone; the flames hungry for my flesh. They will feast upon it soon enough.
In Scotland, the men heard my wails and ran. A bit of luck on my part. My subsequent blazes were equal parts bad luck and poor planning--a lit cigarette at bed, bad aim with a molotov cocktail, even an unfortunate time featuring a flamethrower and what I *thought* was an empty barrel.
Over the cracking flames, I hear the sounding axes splintering wood. My rescuers have entered the building. But the flames have already licked away my clothes and started in on my flesh. I know I will not burn, but *damn* if it doesn't feel like I am.
But what will I say to them? No matter when they find me, or in what state, they will be left without explanation. A hundred years ago they would think me a witch. That, course, would lead to more burning. Short memories, these folk.
Now, though? Now they might think me a God. A strange, naked, hairless God, but a God nonetheless. And I can't have that. It took years and a trip around the world to hide my immortality the first time I was found out. With the emergence of the internet, I fear I cannot outrun it this time.
I sigh as the wooden bedframe fails beneath me. I've got one idea--one single hope. So I take action.
Fighting through the pain, I smear hot, red ash across my face. My chest. My entire body. Then I lay in the rubble and wait.
They find me quicker than expected. The flames are mostly gone, the house a smoldering pile of ash and burnt memories. A large beam is lifted from my chest and a man in yellow and black stares at me with his mouth agape.
I see his chest expand as he prepares to shout.
"Wait," I say. "Don't call for them. Leave me be."
He stares back. I see the dilemma in his eyes. He wonders if he's hallucinating. If I'm real.
"Ten thousand dollars," I say. "There are things at work here you wouldn't understand. And ill give you ten thousand dollars to lower that beam and walk away."
His lips part as he prepares to speak, but i cut him off.
"Say nothing. If they see you talk, you get nothing."
He blinks, then turns his head to look at his colleagues in the distance. Then he shakes his head and lowers the beam.
I smile, hardly able to believe it worked. Human greed is truly a remarkable thing.
Of course, if I had known the consequences that would follow my deal with this man, I never would have said a word.
r/Ford9863 for more nonsense.
|
It was too late, by the time I woke up, to escape the fire unseen. In my defense, I once slept through a bomb destroying my entire city block in Yemen, where I was taking a leisurely, decade-long nap, and had to dig myself out of an entire apartment building when I woke up...but I digress.
It was a bog-standard house in southern Idaho. Smoke filled the room, impossible to see through, even though I resolutely declined to let my eyes water. Flames were crawling through the door cracks, invading my bedroom. There were sirens outside, and over the roar of the flames I could hear firefighters shouting to one another.
I looked around the room, hoping to find a spot to to shelter in that might convince the authorities that I was merely lucky, not impossible. I opened the door to the bathroom that was only accessible via my bedroom and the next room over. Perhaps I could lie down in the bathtub. The handle was blisteringly hot to the touch – although my skin continuously healed before the contact could cause more than a slight sting – so I abandoned that plan. The bathroom was clearly already on fire.
This was becoming quite tricky. I avoided exposing myself like this: in the past, it was due to the numerous religions I’d accidentally started. Most were short-lived, thank goodness, but there was an island off the coast of Somalia where they still worshiped me, and by that I mean they had caught me and tossed me off a cliff the last time I visited.
Best to avoid that sort of situation, especially around here where the Mormons were only outnumbered by the Evangelicals, and all of them had strong feelings about the One True God, blah blah blah. Let me tell you, there was nothing special about Yah-Weh. He’d had been a real dick, back in the day, faking miracles and seeing how crazy he’d have to make the rules before his people revolted. He sung a different tune after he masqueraded as his own son and got crucified, though, and it took him three days to move the boulder put in front of his “grave.”
Good times. Put me in a good mood for two centuries, seeing him taken down a peg like that.
The whole room was on fire, now. I was not in the mood to be on the news as a “miraculous” escape, or attacked by religious fanatics, or to accidentally start a break-off cult. The smoke thinned for a moment, probably due to the high-powered hoses now trained at the house, by the sound of it. I had to get out of here. Walking through flames and escaping into the darkness, naked, after my clothes inevitably burnt off or “miraculous survival?” Choices, choices. Ugh, this was enough to make me want to go hang out in the woods with Sasquatch for a few decades. Maybe she was in the mood to prank tourists again.
Oh, wait, the greenhouse. I had some spare gardening clothes out there and had no qualms in claiming I’d fallen asleep in my work clothes by the crick. Best to get it over with, though I did hate the sensation of my hair bubbling on my scalp.
The firefighters’ voices sounded closer, and the water blasting into the house was louder than the flames now. Best go immediately, I supposed. I opened the bathroom door again and was blasted with flames. I felt my eyelashes go instantaneously. Ugh. I trotted through the bathroom to the other room and tried to peek out the window. I didn’t see any people around so I opened the window and half-fell out of it along with a gout of flames and the last, sad, smoldering remnants of my clothes. My jeans’ zipper clinked sadly onto the deck.
“What in the Sam Hill,”
Fuck. I turned, dripping shreds of t-shirt and globs of melted hair, only to make eye contact with the neighbor. Who smoked a lot of weed.
Hmm. There’s an idea.
I raised my hands, shuffling sideways until I was immersed in the flames again and wobbled my body back and forth in what I hoped was a vaguely flame-like manner, then dove back through the window.
Hallucination from a bad batch of the devil’s lettuce, check.
New window time. I darted into the living room – oh, yikes, the floor was really gone in most places – and narrowly avoided getting red-hot nails driven into my feet. That was unpleasant, even if it wouldn’t hurt for long. One of the windows was shattered, so I headed that direction. I was straddling the sill, trying to keep my vulva off the shards of glass left in the frame when the pine tree in the yard – already elderly and barely hanging on after an infestation of boring pine beetles – groaned and tilted towards the house. And me.
I swore under my breath, abandoned my quest to avoid temporary genital injury and bolted for the greenhouse. At this point I didn’t care if the neighbor saw me again.
The tree groaned again and came down behind me. Even if the fire damage was reparable, the tree through the roof wouldn’t be, I’d bet. Good thing my current identify was both real and had really, really good homeowner’s insurance, I supposed, although I wasn’t sure yet if I was interested in re-building. I’d been here a few decades – more than long enough for people to start to notice that I had a suspicious lack of crow’s feet for a woman supposedly pushing fifty.
I bypassed the greenhouse altogether and lay down in the creek, letting the water sluice away as much soot and ash as possible. I grabbed a handful of sand from the bottom of the creek and scrubbed my face and hands. Best look as little like I just survived a fire as possible. That done, I went back to the greenhouse and pulled on the old, linen shirt and trousers I wore around the yard and stuffed my feet into a pair of crocs I had absolutely no memory of buying. My bedraggled straw hat to complete the whole outfit and disguise my current hairless state and,
“Inanna.”
“Kyle,” I responded absentmindedly, then his presence sunk in and I whirled towards the door where the newest immortal I knew of was standing, looking as much like a dipshit as ever. “Kyle,” I bared my teeth at him. “to what do I owe the dubious pleasure? I’m kinda busy right now, what with the whole ‘my house is burning down right this minute’ thing.”
He smirked at me.
“You dipshit!” I hissed at him. “What fucking reason could you possibly have to justify burning down my fucking house?”
“You burned down mine,” he crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow at me like this was a real argument.
I jabbed my finger at him. “That’s not how that went and you know it, you racist sack of shit. I wouldn’t have had to set a fire to cover my escape if you hadn’t literally had me locked in the basement while the fucking KKK met in your fucking living room deciding the best way to make me dead.”
He had the audacity to look sulky. “Well it’s not like we knew you were immortal, and you wouldn’t stop using the White facilities.”
I screeched wordlessly to vent my feelings for a few moments, then gathered myself. “You have ten seconds to get out of my sight before I go report that I think my stalker set the fire. What’s your current identify, Kyle Marcus Jones the third? Or are you the fourth now?”
He glowered at me for a moment then stormed away without answering.
I couldn’t believe his nerve. Or that he turned out to be immortal after I escaped from him and his gross, 1920s KKK pals.
I was definitely going to go hang out with Sasquatch for awhile.
| 2020-08-21T13:27:44
| 2020-08-21T13:26:10
| 35
| 15
|
[WP] You are a superhero and not a native English speaker. You chose your superhero name early, when you didn't know much English yet and gravely misunderstood what your name means. You have been trying to get rid of this name ever since.
|
Greetings Director of the International Superhero Safety and Regulation Committee, thank you for taking the time to look at my request for a superhero name change. Should my request be approved, my new chosen name will be Night Flight.
As you are aware, I have only recently learned English, and when my choice of Superhero name was recommended by ShadowFlame, I assumed that it the name would be recommended in good faith. This was not the case. I was unaware of English idioms, and unaware of the meaning behind the name “Wind Breaker.” As my English skills improved, I have realized that this name is inappropriate for the image I am trying to promote.
I understand that the citizens need a consistent name for their hero, and my goal is not to disrupt that. However, I am sure both the committee and yourself have realized the inappropriate connotation of this superpower name.
I thank you for taking my name change request into consideration.
Sincerely,
Wind Breaker
|
Big Papa said: “I hate all these weird undertones and jokes people make about my name! Even my biographer will probably call me Big Papa!” Big Papa often used this joke when people asked about his name. Oftentimes he would explain how his name came about, “I tried to pick a name that was like ‘Aba’ in Hebrew, I wanted to honor God by naming myself something which I now know in this language is closer to: ‘The Good Father.’ Then I would say, that The Good Father gave me these powers.” While the name does seem like a contrived mistranslation, and scholars have indeed called into question the legitimacy of his story, the sentiment is, indeed, very nice. So, I, in this biography, will continue to call this superhero Big Papa.
| 2022-06-24T12:11:38
| 2022-06-24T11:24:57
| 26
| 17
|
[WP] When you reach the age of 21, you are given a check from the government. The check has been carefully calculated and is worth the minimum amount of money you need for the rest of your life. Your check came in the mail today and it was $7.27
Edit: Wow this blew up better than I thought it would.
|
I was at my favorite taco joint with my family. It was a weird tradition we had. When someone turned 21, we go to this place as a family and open the check. See how much their life is worth. It tends to make for a good laugh. My brother's was around a million. My poor cousins was only 25% of that. So here we are on my birthday. We got our plate and sat with our food. Mom passed me the check and I opened it up. $7.27 the exact price of my meal. My mouth dropped. I looked at mom and passed her the check. Said "this will cover my cost." I pushed my food away. I'm not going to die choking on this crap. I got up, walked out the door into the parking. As I walking to my car I hear the screeching of tires..
|
The battle for a theocracy was a turbulent one and was the cause of the single greatest loss of life since the second world war - dubbed the 10th crusade. Despite this, the battle was won and a new holy land was established. Jerusalem's economy tanked and people flocked to our new country, a holy country. It was wonderful.
Traditional thinking would tell you that society would quickly descend into anarchy as the inevitable disarray takes hold. Traditional thinking would be right was if not for one fundamentally flawed assumption. You see, the rich toiled in their bunkers hoping to wait out the worst of the looting and violence when something unprecedented happened: the government began to work in the best interest of the citizens. It was being run by the single smartest, most powerful entity - through a vessel. An unpleasant side effect of this however, was that no one could ignore the reality that God exists (though not for a lack of trying) and lifestyles had to change in accordance with that fact. It was now no longer just priests that took vows of poverty. On everyone's 18th birthday they are given exactly how much money they need for the rest of their humble lives, none can be borrowed, none can be earned. Whether the drying of funds precipitated or caused death is a hotly debated topic. Regardless, all but the terminally ill could expect a sum totalling in the low tens of thousands at the very least. Enter me.
$7.67. 767 *FUCKING* CENTS. Even with heavy government subsidies, this is not enough for a week - let alone a lifetime, so forgive my French. See, most would think this means that they are about to die, but me, I know I'm fine. I am two weeks from mission and in the 47 years this country has existed *not one person* has died this soon before mission. So what? Is god calling me fat? Angus Barbieri is whole number multiples heavier than me. So I do what every rational man of the cloth does and head to the temple, it's almost time for prayers anyways.
If you guys want more I'll finish this later. I got finals to study for.
| 2019-04-24T13:37:46
| 2019-04-24T12:49:46
| 32
| 19
|
[WP] Someone wakes up, prepares some coffee, and drinks it
|
It's your routine. It's what you do.
You get out of bed, you make coffee, you wake up.
The baby was crying, so I got up. There was such a mess I decided to give her a bath, so I started running the water. Carefully tweaking the two bronze handles, I made sure the water was warm. Just the right temperature for her - not too hot, not too cold. Her crying subsided a little bit as the sound of the water running in the tub always seemed to pacify her.
God I need coffee.
I slip out for a moment to fill the kettle and put it on the stove. Ah, *cowboy blend*, freshly ground yesterday. Damn I had forgotten how good this stuff smells.
The aroma rises out of the bag and I sigh. Without bothering to grab a scoop, I pour the grounds right into the French press. Sitting at the table, the whistle of the kettle pulls my drowsy head back up and toward the stove. I pull myself up and remove the kettle, making sure to turn off the eye.
It will need to cool a bit. Not too hot, not too cold. Just the right temperature.
How long had I been dozing there? I wondered suddenly.
It's what you do. You get out of bed, you make coffee, you wake up.
The soothing sounds of running water, the whistle of the kettle, the cooing of the baby.
The silence of the baby. The silence of the baby in the tub. The dark, ever expanding puddle on the carpet outside the bathroom door.
Oh God.
|
I rolled out of bed at the alarm blared, light filling my small apartment, filtering through dirty windows. Her clothes are still there, on my desk chair. She never fucking put her clothes away.
I make some coffee, revelling in my efficiency as I fill the cup just as the kettle boils. I stir sugar in with a fork, because she never washes up the teaspoons.
I sit uncomfortably on the edge of the sofa, sipping my coffee. I still don't feel quite at home here. Her boxes are still on the sofa. We would have unpacked this weekend. Her photos would have gone on the wall, after the inevitable fight about the colour of frames. I place the mug down. It'll stain. She'd have wanted me to use a coaster. Shame she never liked coffee much.
| 2013-12-19T09:14:24
| 2013-12-19T08:34:57
| 59
| 24
|
[WP] FTL travel is actually possible. However, when humanity sends out our first FTL spacecraft, we discover the terrifying reason why nothing, not even light, dares go past that cosmic speed limit.
|
It’s all gone.
All of it.
It was just the day before—wait, hang on, should I even say that anymore?—that the *Farpoint* engaged her experimental FTL engine on the edge of the solar system. The effort and struggle of thousands of physicists achieving the impossible over decades, and it unfortunately proved to be the fatal strike ending everything we know in our lifetime.
And not just us, but the entire universe.
From the day mankind theorised about general relativity, we knew one thing: if we ever hit the speed of light, our mass would become infinite. The energy consumption becomes infinite, and the point where the speed barrier broke would generate infinite mass.
The warning was in front of us the whole time and we ignored it.
Now, suppose we had a ball. We strung up a blanket and dropped the ball on it. It’d weigh the blanket down, aye? Imagine if the ball was too heavy. It’d instantly pluck the blanket from where it was strung up, or alternatively tear right through, aye?
And that happened.
A ball, too heavy to be supported by such a fragile object, either unraveled the entire universe and consumed the fabric of space-time, or tearing a hole through it, destroying all of existence. No one knows for sure, because all that I know right now is that the universe has ended thanks to the foolishness of a single selfish race orbiting an insignificant star in an insignificant galaxy.
So I’m writing this down, as a warning. I’m an avid reader of science fiction. I can only hope that if this universe isn’t the only one in existence and there lies trillions and trillions out there, so I will write this down as a reminder to all who’s lived and will ever live from whatever place you came from:
**Never go as fast we did.**
By now you must be wondering: who am I?
If all of reality collapsed, who am I that’s writing this?
Well, I’ll answer that with the question: when the blanket ripped, where did the ball go?
|
The day had arrived.
On a space station high above the earth, thousands stood silent, while millions watched at home as humanity's first Faster Than Light capable spacecraft was about to depart on its maiden voyage.
The technology was perfected over decades, with countless scientists working long hours for minimum pay for a passion that they may or may not regret later in life.
The spacecraft, dubbed Speedy McSpeedFace, was perched on a high platform, with the audience below protected by a powerful force field. The ship was unmanned, it being only an experimental vessel, but filled to the brim with technology that Star Wars could only dream of.
The announcer waited for the signal to begin the countdown.
"Ladies and gentlemen, the moment you've all been waiting for! The world's first Faster Than Light ship is about to launch! I have been given permission to begin the countdown! In five, four, three, two, one!"
The ship started its engines, at first slowly, then at maximum throttle.
The ensuing explosion ripped the space station, the force field, and the earth apart, disintegrating it into pure plasma that collided with the other planets at speeds faster than light. The other planets were completely vaporized, turning into swirling vortexes of pure annihilation that caused everything they touched to cease to exist.
As the ship traveled through the universe, everything it touched was completely destroyed, leaving behind nothing but an infinitely hot space that cause disruptions in space and time. Stars that had been born in the dawn of time found themselves going supernova in the blink of an eye, black holes were torn apart by their own gravity, nebulae exploding with the force of the Big Bang.
The observable universe was left a desolate wasteland.
The ship left the boundaries of the known universe and headed into the unknown, where a race of aliens known as ponies found it and were subsequently destroyed.
| 2018-11-04T06:08:23
| 2018-11-04T05:34:15
| 135
| 19
|
[WP] Write a letter to someone you miss
It's been a rough week. Everyone has someone they wish were still with them. Write to them and tell them how you feel. Pour your heart out. No judging. Even if they never see it, someone will. And thank you. It's tough to be alone.
|
Elizabeth
I never really knew you, but I'll never forget you. I see your face every time I'm alone in my car, and it always brings me to tears. I want you to know that I tried so hard to save you. I tried everything I could. I'm sorry your parents had to see what we did to you. I'm sorry they had to see the tubes sticking out of your throat and the needles I drilled into your bones. When I realized in the back of the ambulance that we weren't going to get you back no matter what we did, it nearly broke me. I'm so sorry for what happened to you.
- the paramedic who tried to save you
#2321
|
Dear anyone,
I’ve had bad times the past couple years since their blood bath of a divorce. The way she handled everything. Destroyed everyone’s lives. Picked a new family with new children to cook them breakfast before school like I️ would get. I️ know I’m an adult, I️ know I️ can take care of myself. But I️ just feel... discarded, thrown away, me and dad. But we’ve become best friends now so that’s the only positive. I️ don’t miss you, I️ miss the old you before you’ve changed so much but stayed just the same, the way you just dropped into a new family and act the exact same way you would with us. I️ want to hate you, I️ need to hate you, but how can someone hate their mother who was their greatest role model and friend growing up? It just hurts, and makes me not miss anyone. Not feel anything. Not want to feel anything. Not want to try anymore. Everything is just everything and nothing is bliss
-Falling son
P.s sorry for bad grammar it’s late and these other comments hit me right in the feels.
Edit: I️ don’t know why there’s question marks in a box but there supposed to be “I’s”
| 2017-11-06T02:41:21
| 2017-11-06T01:52:49
| 27
| 13
|
[WP] Since you were born you could see a search bar over people's heads. All you had to do was think and the search bar would fill out and give you information/statistics. Out of boredom one day you decide to search your whole family with"Number of people killed"
|
I can find information out about people just by looking at them and thinking. It’s my superpower you could say.
When I look at someone I see a search bar, I call it the ultimate search. It’s how I found out my best friend is gay and that the quiet girl is far from a virgin like she claims.
It sometimes makes me wonder if others have the same ability or whatever, so sometimes out of curiosity I search.
So far I am the only one.
It sometimes becomes overwhelming, knowing almost anything there is about a person.
There is one question that I have never searched… “number of people killed”
Maybe I’m afraid of the answer and that’s why I have never really thought about it. Looking at the search bar above my mom I think it.
“a hundred”
My mother has killed a hundred people, I’m afraid to look at her… but I can’t help myself and when I do she is wearing a sickening smile.
I look to dad with the same question and his is almost double
Then grams.
And my sisters.
All of them have killed at least a hundred people and when I look to each of them they are wearing sickening smiles.
…
Now just waking up, I can’t help wondering where I am, the walls are a light pink color and my head is pounding.
Just as my memories of what happened with mom come back to me a lady walks in with some medicine, and the search bar is gone.
“Where am I?” I ask her and she just gives me a smile.
A man that certainly looks like a doctor walks in and answers my question “your at Yardley Memorial hospital, in the mental wing.”
He doesn't have the bar either, the medicine must be doing something to my power.
All of the sudden my mom walks in looking worried, and she is also missing the bar. “Sweetie-” I don’t let her finish since I throw the tray of pills at her
“You monster” I scream and next thing I know there are two guys twice the size of me dragging me out of the room, who knows where. All I know is that nobody has a search bar anymore.
|
It was my dad. Let's not beat around the Bush. 22 people. My dad is the sweetest old man. But everyone respects him. He could be funny, hell my first joke that got a real laugh was one he told me when I was 6 or 7. One about a dumb guy being asked how many Ds are in Rudolf the red nosed reindeer. The guy says 7. No man its 4. No says the guy its seven, listen. Dee Dee Dee Dee Dee dee dee. I laughed at his joke for years. It was my go to for adults.
Still. 22 people. The guy thought me most everything I know. How the hell did my dad kill 22 people. Okay let's do some more searches. "Dad murder trials." Searching...
"One result"
"Lucky Valentino's jury selection"
Let's see here. Oh, he just appears on the rejected jury for trial list. It's odd but he's not on trial and no other enters of his name are found.
Let's try "
Okay I'm loosing my train of thought. I'm just going to give this twist away and turn in for the night. My dad accident kill 22. He worked in remodeling for 40 yrs. It was never really his fault. Mostly him wondering about how he could of done something different. Big ones were very few. Only one guy did he feel like he didn't do enough. It was an accident. The guy cut through a power cord. True dad was the last guy to handle it and that can wear on your concise. But come on dad, he could have watched where he was cutting too.
Big twist. I finally searched myself. Turns out I'm probably not that good at cooking as I thought. Sweet dreams those who are out tonight.
| 2019-07-01T22:44:04
| 2019-07-01T21:57:00
| 52
| 24
|
[WP] "So let me get this straight" The former UFC fighter looked at the doctor in the eye. "You want to put me in a medically induced coma so my ghost can beat the shit out of the ghost that's haunting the psych ward of the hospital? "Uhh... If you want to put it like that, sure."
Who knows, maybe the fighter couldn't afford the exorbitant doctor's bills, so he has to make do with alternative methods of payment.
|
Gurneys Shook
From the Taunt
"Bloody Rain"
The Demonic Haunt
The Doctor Searched
For Help Abroad
Found a Man
The Less Traveled, Trod
Titles Earned
Croatia Trained
Seasoned fighter
Blood Will Rain
The Eyes of a Man
Stare Down the Geist
One is a Killer
The Other "Dies Twice"
The chilling screams
Change tune
The spirit gasps
Something new
"Stop, please,
I'll leave this Hell"
(The other has gentler
Clientele)
The secret shown
To conquer ghosts
Jabs, Double legs,
Rear naked chokes
With a Right Leg Hospital
And Left Leg Cemetery
The phantom is returned
To it's own mortuary
Mayhem is back:
Don't haunt in the States
Bully Beatdown
Is still being taped
Eyes open
As the Fighter comes to,
He laughs and adds,
"When's Round 2?"
|
"You want me to fight a freakin' ghost?" Josh shouted, wincing in pain as his injuries reminded him of why he was here in the first place.
"Look buddy, you don't got any money to pay for this stay of yours, so unless you plan to go bankrupt, you damn well better start planning on fighting that ghost." The doctor replied. "Look, Josh, patients here can't recover because of this. Hell, they seem to get worse and worse every day because of this. Three patients have bit their fingers off in the past two weeks! Three for God's sake!"
The doctor sighed. "Look, I understand fully if you don't want to, after all we don't even know what we're up against here. All I'm asking is for you to try and help save these people's lives, cause I know sure as hell that nobody else here can."
Josh started at the doctor with an unreadable gaze. This whole idea was completely absurd, and of course Josh knew exactly what he was going to do from the start.
"Sorry doc, but you gotta understand... Saving people's lives for money ain't my kind of thing."
The doctor looked down and frowned. "Of course, like I said-" Josh interrupted him, and with a grin said something only a mad man would:
"On the other hand, getting a chance to kick a ghost's ass? Hell yeah I'm in."
As the words came out of his mouth, the lights began to flicker, almost as if the ghost had accepted his challenge. The doctor flashed a sinister smile.
"Heh, shall we begin then Josh?"
| 2018-03-05T23:15:46
| 2018-03-05T23:10:25
| 85
| 53
|
[WP] You are a long forgotten god. A small girl leaves a piece of candy at your shrine, and you awaken. Now, you must do everything to protect your High Priestess, the girl, and her entire kindergarten class, your worshipers.
If you want to post this on other platforms, please credit me. Looking at you instagram writing prompts.
|
It's quite hard to kill a god. And believe me, they tried. Long ago, I had to watch as my followers were sacrificed in someone else's name, while my temples were defaced and the surrounding cities were razed.
My name was forgotten.
My lands were eventually reclaimed by the earth.
And I took refuge in my only remaining temple, sharing my company with a tiny stone idol of myself, sleeping the centuries away, dreaming of my once sprawling cities and devoted followers.
All at once, I felt it. Light penetrated my long-faded eyes and the sound of soft voices resonated throughout my meager home.
"Cin-dee, what are you doing?" Lisped a shrill voice.
I drifted around the corner, peeking into the antechamber for a hint of who had brought me back to the living world.
A pair of children. Their tiny toothless smiles at the center of round, chubby faces. One was a boy with close-cropped red hair and dull brown eyes. The blue shirt he wore said "Conrad" in script I did not recognize, but understood all the same.
Then there was the girl. Cindy, the boy had said. Curly brown hair and green eyes that shone brightly with stars behind them. She stood before my altar, brushing the layers of dust and dried grass to the ground. An act which, unknown to her, granted me presence in the cramped space.
"My mom says we can't eat on a dirty table. We just can't. Same goes for Mr. Dancer." She said pointing to my idol, whose long legs crossed about one another like that of a stage dancer.
"But Ms. Baker told us not to come in here. We're gonna get in trouble."
"Then go away, Conrad. That way you don't have to deal with it." Cindy said, brushing more of the debris from my altar.
Conrad flustered for a moment before settling on an answer that satisfied him "But I gotta stay so you don't get hurt." He said, using the particular brand of logic that only children understood.
Cindy, now finished with her task of cleaning my altar, turned to Conrad and held out a hand expectantly. "Gimme a piece."
"W-what?"
She tilted her head and gave a withering, you-know-what-I-mean look. She then flexed her fingers and commanded "Give it.'
Conrad flustered again for a second "B-but those are supposed to last the whole trip."
"Then give me one of the strawberry ones. I'm the only one that eats those anyhow."
They stood there for a second, Conrad trying to make his best pleading look while Cindy simply pursed her lips and tapped her foot expectantly. If they could have heard me in that instant, they would have heard only laughter.
Conrad eventually gave in and shoved a tiny wrapped candy into her waiting hand. She promptly turned around and placed the candy into the small depression on my altar which once held a gold offering plate. And just like that, I could feel again. Within my temple, the cool air and damp stones were once again mine to cherish.
She looked briefly at my idol with a toothless, cherub-like grin. "I hope you like it. Strawberry's my favorite, and I hope it's yours too." Then she turned on her heel and strode out of my home with Conrad in tow.
A few days passed, and I had savored the offering with satisfaction. A tiny offering from a tiny child to a tiny god. When what little power her gift had imbued me with faded, I would have something new to dream of. Something happy, not sad. It was more than I deserved, really.
That was, however, until I felt myself grow a bit more solid and a new location filled the space of my mind. With a hint of glee, I transported to the new location in an instant, my thoughts racing.
The room was brightly lit, filled with the gentle hum of electric lights. Brightly colored pictures, rugs, chairs, and tables littered the room. And there I saw Cindy holding up a colored pencil sketch of me before an audience of children. Children and one adult, of course.
The sketch was crude, some features of mine, such as my long and twisting legs, were exaggerated, but it was me all the same.
"This is Mr. Dancer. He lives in the house in the field."
A hand shot up. "Was he nice."
Cindy's smile grew. "He was very nice."
And so it was.
Another hand. "He looks strong."
"He is."
And so it was.
Conrad's hand shot up. "Tell them about the candy."
Cindy shot Conrad another withering look. "I gave him a piece of strawberry candy, and he said it was his most favorite thing to eat. The end."
And so it was.
The teacher, who had believed this story to be the result of a child's imagination, simply patted Cindy on the head and pinned her drawing to a cork board. Cindy then asked that a piece of Strawberry candy be pinned up with it, and so it was.
And so, with an idol and an offering, I was given a new temple. A new temple, a new name, and a new priestess to create and share my stories. Stories of a kind and powerful god who likes strawberries.
I could live with that.
|
...
*...Light?*
...I've been in the dark for so long. I thought I was dead. Nobody has come to my temple, let alone left an offering for... How long... A Millenia? More?
I feel my presence fill with strength. Not much - but infinitely more than I've felt in centuries. I feel incredible. I've been given new life.
I can see again.
I look down. Upon my altar lies... A curious little thing. The offering. A small ball of sugar wrapped in gilded foil.
A meager gift, of course. It does not satisfy me like my old offerings would. But... It's filled with... Odd emotions. Not grief and terror, hate and strife. It's filled with... Hope. Kindness? *Love?*
I glance up to see who left this morsel for me. A tiny girl, with a green ribbon in her hair, is skipping out of my temple.
I smile. She... Is rather cute. Merely a child. Does she even know what she did?
...She doesn't look wealthy. That little drop of sweetness appears to be the only one she had.
... Fascinating. Selfless.
She is... Curious. Her meager offering would surely have been better enjoyed in the moment, rather than laid upon this stone altar. I wonder. How long has she come here, without my comprehension?
Devotion is not easy to come across.
I shall devote myself to her in turn. We may not have much light, young girl. *But we can share it with each other.*
| 2021-09-02T09:10:25
| 2021-09-02T06:33:52
| 2,738
| 727
|
[WP] Scientists invented a pill that enables dogs to fully speak and understand English. It lasts for ten minutes, and will only work one time. You give a pill to your 12 year-old Border Collie, whom you've had since they were a pup. Your dog immediately says "Alright, listen very carefully..."
|
"Alright, listen very carefully." The pills had taken effect almost immediately. I was in shock, and let out a, "Wow."
"No. No. No time for 'wow'. Snap the fuck out of it. I know what bullshit you just fed me; Toby told us about them the other week. I know they only last for a while, so there's something very important I need to convey to you." I nodded silently, assuming she was talking about the next door neighbor's dog, Toby.
"My fur," she continued, "do you know why it's so long?" I didn't even have time to formulate an answer before she spoke again. "It's so that if some big fucking animal, like a wolf, grabs onto me, they have a harder time doing any damage. It's essentially a natural suit of goddamned armor. What would you do if a wolf attacked you? Oh yeah, you'd fucking **die**!"
Confused at both the information and my dog's tone, I asked, "Why are you telling me this...?"
"Shut the **fuck** up, Tom! Tom... Humans have such weird names. Do you know that the name my mother gave me would roughly translate to, 'undefeated guard' in your language, in this disgusting speech I have to use to convey ideas to your pea brain? That's a great name, my name. Tom is... a name. It doesn't mean anything, but that's how human names are. They're just... names. But, it's not offensive. It's not degrading." Suddenly, I realized where this was going.
"But a fucking terrible, shitty, embarrassing, goddamned unacceptable name," She raised her voice with every word. My dog was yelling at me, in English. "**is Fluffy**!" she screamed. "I swear to fucking God, Tom, if I hear you, or **anyone** call me that undignified name **ever** again, I will piss on **everything** you own! I will hide my shits where you sleep! I will chew your shoes, ruin your furniture, knock dishes off of your countertops! That is not my name, and it never will be again! I don't deserve such a *Arf! Arf! Arf! Arf!*"
I breathed a sigh of relief as the pill wore off. She ran in circles, now just barking at me. Would petting her calm her down? I didn't dare try it. I didn't really know what to do, other than come up with a new name for Fl-- for my dog.
I sighed and sat on the couch. At least that horrible experiment was over. Lesson learned: Life is much better when your pets can't bitch at you.
Soon after, when I heard a loud, "My name is not Mister Mittens!" from the bedroom, I realized my girlfriend was about to learn the same lesson from her cat.
|
"Alright, Listen VERY carefully, I've been trying to tell you this for months now, but there is something very dangerous lurking in the back yard. It's been stalking you for months, unseen, unheard by you and apparently.. and this is something I can't understand, unSMELLED by you. I love you human, but you've got to take this threat very seriously because it's going to strike now that it knows that you know that it's there. Please, let me out into the backyard and stay indoors until I scrape the window with my paw."
And with that, I let Mary out into the backyard, she immediately started sniffing around and growling as she always did when she was out doing her business. But this time, it gave me chills.
I got my dads old shotgun that I'd saved in case a bear or something ever came around. Sure I wasn't living in the sticks, but I wasn't exactly in the city either. The possibilities flitted through my mind, one more worse than the other. I loaded a couple of shells into it, cocked it and felt slightly more secure, I hadn't fired the thing in ages, but I still remember my instructors words "always keep your hand off the trigger until you're ABSOLUTELY sure you're going to fire at something"
But my trigger finger itched. Mary still hadn't come back after five minutes, so I decided to start looking for her. The underbrush was dense and the trees were pressing in on me from all sides.
I found her in a clearing a few minutes later, frantically digging at something in the ground, I kept my shotgun down towards the ground and slowly walked forward. The moon faintly illuminated the clearing as I got closer and closer to the growing mound of dirt that she was throwing up behind her, she was digging like mad and when she noticed me standing next to her, she stopped and barked at me and gave me a long look. Apparently the pill had worn off.
I looked into the hole she'd produced, there wasn't anything special about it, just dirt... and .. nothing else. Mary kept digging for a while, but then seemed to perk her ears at something. I resisted the urge to point my shotgun towards the bush she was staring at. Then she started walking slowly towards the bush and she growled in a way I'd never heard her growl before. Before I knew it, she'd rushed into it barking like a madman and I yelled at her to stop, but she was well beyond listening to me at this point. I heard her rusting through the underbrush and then.. a sharp whining sound from her and after that, silence.
I went absolutely crazy, I stormed through the threes, brushing them aside, not caring how they tore the skin on my face and my arms. MY DOG WAS IN DANGER! was all that was going through my mind and I kept my shotgun at the ready, intent on blasting whomever had hurt my dog into the world beyond this one. When I finally caught up with Mary, she was lying on the ground and she seemed so small for some reason.. I looked down at her.. and that's when I heard a branch snap behind me.
Before I knew it, it had struck the first of many devious blows at me. My leg was lost, there wasn't anything I could do but try to maintain my composure as I heard it voice it's satisfaction at me by going "meow, meow, meoooww" as it playfully bit into my leg. Mary woke up and barked at it, I told her shush and despite her protests, this was the night that Mister Assassin-Mittens came into our lives.
Mary still pretends to hate it, but I can tell she's loving it when it makes it's bed on her back when she's sleeping in her bed.
| 2017-02-23T04:57:25
| 2017-02-23T02:14:42
| 842
| 167
|
[WP] Foreshadow the character's death so subtly that I still don't see it coming even though I requested it.
|
I'm going to die today.
The doctor is giving me a run down of what will happen when we pull the plug. It will be painless, he says. Despite his reassurance, I can't help but be afraid. I glance over to my wife, my one true happiness in life, and begin to tear up. I can't handle the fact that I will never see her again. I pull her in for one last embrace.
I look back at the doctor and tell him I'm ready.
He gives me a slight nod, and slowly shuts off my wife's life support.
-
Edit : Thank you all for the kind words, when I wrote this obviously I could not have anticipated that it would be so well accepted. I'm glad that a good bunch of you enjoyed this story, as much as I enjoyed writing it.
|
Five years old, he's on the playground now, a toe in the sand. He's beckoning to you to push him on the swing.
Six years old - He's been with his mother all day and rushes to greet you at the door. You kiss him on the forehead and hug your wife. The love that connects you three anchors the rest of your life.
Nine years old - you buy him a gerbil. He names the animal and takes care of it diligently. He tells you that's what he wants to do in life - help animals. You nod and smile.
He's on the varsity team. He rows and plays basketball. He has your affinity for the knicks and the Jets. He falls in love with a cheerleader. She breaks his heart and for the first and last time in his life he tries drugs. He meets Cindy who becomes the love of his life. He introduces her to you and Maggie. He tells you that the man he's become is because of the virtues you imbued in him and hands you a sonogram. You're going to be a grandfather. You embrace your son.
He's forty three. A twice divorced executive who still loves the Jets and spoils his kids with whatever they want. They resent him but you can see the love for them in his eyes.
He's sixty one. The veins in his taut leathery hands are prominent. He steadies himself as he reads your eulogy. Here lies my father, the greatest man I've ever known.
| 2015-06-03T08:22:01
| 2015-06-03T07:16:05
| 2,420
| 11
|
[WP] You call to order pizza, but unknowingly call a hit man
|
"Hello?"
"Hi, this is Joe. How may I help you?"
"Hey... um... one sec. I think I'll have the number 3. As long as it's still half off with a side order."
"Yeah, it is. Is that the deal we agreed upon last time? Should be cool as long as the side is equivalent price. If you know what I mean."
"Uh.. agreed upon? Last time.. I haven't ordered here in a minute, man. I guess? I mean if that's the deal, then I'll take it. Just give me whatever meets the deal."
"Got it. You want any additional jobs?"
"Jobs?"
"Yeah, side ones... small ones, preferably... something quick and easy..."
"I guess, maybe a few breadsticks."
"Breadsticks? Like the skinny fuckers?."
"What the fuck, man? Can we just fucking finish this order and cut the bull shit already?"
"I think I catch your drift, man. It's gonna be 20 this time around."
"Cool. I'll come pick up in a few."
"No need, I can deliver."
"Free delivery? Fuck, man. Nice!"
"Of course I deliver... that's what you're paying for, right? Take out for three, with two sides. I just need the description of the orders."
"Just plain, nothing special."
"Got it. Where they gonna be at?"
"You mean where am I gonna be at?"
"What?"
"Huh?"
"Where the fuck do I need to go?"
"Dude, just fucking bring me the pizzas. I live at Maple Street, right by the general store."
"Oh... shit, man. You called the wrong dude. I don't do pizza, but I can make a nigga look like pizza."
|
"Hey, Pizza Hut, I'd like a large pizza with extra olives, extra sausage, extra anchovies, and hold the pepperoni. Oh yeah, and I'd like the crust to be stuffed. I'll have you send it over to my friends house, the address is 6599 Meadow Lane Rd. Thanks man." You hear strange muffled sounds from the other end of the line. "Hey, man, I can't hear you, but that'll be like what? $10? Whatever, see you there."
It's only a 5 minute drive to your friends house, you'll get there with plenty of time left to be there before the deliver guy. As you roll up the house, you see the front door wide open. Strange. As you walk inside you see a broken vase and a pair of legs laid out around the corner.
You turn the corner to see your friend lying in a pool of his own blood, a pizza cutter stuck in his neck. Next to his cooling body is a nondescript brown box. You slowly open it up to find a large pizza with extra olives, sausage and anchovies. They even remembered to hold the pepperoni.
| 2015-02-10T16:25:29
| 2015-02-10T16:25:06
| 98
| 14
|
[WP]The Suit is powerfull. A mech for some, body armor for others, always unique to each person who wore it. Those who wear it, hear the words "not original user, booting basic mode" As a joke, your sergeant gives you The Suit and the first thing you hear is: "User detected: Welcome back, Commander"
|
“I bet it’s going to take the form of metal bikini armor, like in *Trials of War: The Future Age*,” Baker says.
Allen laughs. “I’ve always wanted to see what Private Jimenez looked like underneath the uniform.”
Sargent Al Hicks just smirks, thinking I won’t notice. “Now men,” he begins, “it isn’t polite to openly objectify the finer sex.” He can barely get through the HR-esque line without guffawing. “Go on Jimenez,” he returns his attention to me, “try on the suit. We’ve never let a woman try it on, didn’t think they could handle it. Shouldn’t be a problem with you.” His smirk turns more derisive. Out-running and out-lifting the men in my unit did not come without punishment. Being the only woman in Sundown Squad sucked sometimes.
I sigh, eyeballing the suit that stands before me, still in the mech-form that it took for Reynolds when he used it last week. Hicks and the rest of the guys have all had a hard-on for Reynolds since. It was the coolest form we’d seen the damn thing take on.
We had found the suit sitting in a long-forgotten supply closet here on Bravo base. God knows how long it’s been in here the base has been taken and lost so many times over the last 20 years.
*”What the hell is that?” Jackson had asked when we found it. *
*”Looks like TéRahn tech,” Baker mused.*
*”Oh, please,” Reynolds replied. “You wouldn’t know TéRahn tech from Earth tech if your life depended on it!” Truth is, none of us had a clue what in the hell this thing could do or where it came from.*
*”Either way,” Donaldson interrupted their pissing contest, “this thing looks awesome.”*
*Both Reynolds and Bakers had good points. It could have been Earth or TéRahn tech, really. The TéRahn had to come up with some heavy duty equipment to with stand Earth’s environment when they landed here years ago, before teachers knew to explain that Earth is inhospitable and ill-evolved in the minds of anyone not from this planet.*
*Anyway, HQ didn’t know what to do with the suit, so Sundown Squad got a new toy to play with. It quickly became a way for the guys to whip it out and compare without actually, you know, whipping it out. To be fair, even I have Davis some crap when all he got was armored super-punching gloves and a helmet. The more badass the suit became for you, the more respect you were given.*
I don’t play this game, mostly to avoid this. Sargent Hicks is tapping his foot, arms crossed, waiting for me to step into the mech and become the new laughingstock of the squad. Davis looks so pleased he might pee himself. Poor guy.
I might as well get this over with.
Stepping into the suit is strange. Where I expected it to be cold and unfamiliar, it’s like putting on my favorite pair of pajamas. The suit begins to trans form and shape to my body, the digital screen overlays my vision. I expect to hear the familiar words “not original user, booting basic mode.” Instead, I hear,
“User detected. Welcome back, Commander.” The jaws of the men in my squad all drop collectively. The armor and metal of the suit has disappeared, making it look like I’m wearing nothing but the clothes I put on this morning. The only change is a small headpiece seemingly welded to my left temple. This must be the integral piece that connects to the mind of the wearer and houses all the coding for the suit. “Please select suit mode,” the warm female voice continues.
“Holy shi-“ Davis begins.
“Shut it, Private,” Hicks says, sternly. His eyes are dinner plates as he takes in what just happened.
“Commander, please select suit mode,” the voice says. A list flashes up on my digital overlay. On it, I see not only every version it has become for the guys in my unit, but some crazy things I’ve never seen before, even on the battlefield. I select a suit, and the transformation begins.
I survey the dumbfounded expressions of my comrades in arms. This is gonna be fun.
|
All in all, The Suit was masterfully built. Layer upon layer it was designed to be anything the user ever wanted. But each time someone stepped into The Suit, it always responded with "Not original user, booting basic mode."
Of course that's why The Suit was set at Ft. Bragg for the recruit to try it out before moving into their basic training. A test if you will, like finding Grid Squares or Blinker Fluid at requisitions.
This sergeant, however, got more of a kick in having all his privates go through this ritual, even though no one would ever get the suit to change its response. Still he would see that they all went through this "test" so he could have them all run laps around the base when they failed.
Private James received the call from Sergeant Pierce to head to The Suit and try it out. Of course, Private James couldn't say no to the order and accepted it with little fan fair. Once he arrived at Requisitions, the front desk looked at the order sheet from Private James and shook her head.
"You know that he's going to fail you when The Suit doesn't work right?"
"Yeah," Private James replied, waiting for the warrant officer to sign the papers acknowledging the order, "But it'll be for a good laugh later."
She gave a soft smile and finished signing off the order and handed it back to him, "Just don't be disappointed when it happens again like all the others."
"I won't. Like trying to find Grid Squares right?"
Both laughed as he entered the door on the left and proceeded to the room. A few scientists were stationed near The Suit and looked up before all of them groaned at the Private.
"Sergeant Pierce strikes again huh?"
"You got that right." Private James laughed as he stood next to the suit. It's worn brown color and chrome edges with wires coming out from the interior. The screens from the helmet were blank and he peaked inside for just a moment before the lead scientist came up and slapped him on the back.
"Let's get this over with." The scientist said, he walked past the Private to the other room with the rest of the scientists. "Sergeant Pierce is always a hard-ass unless we do this right."
"Right." Private James replied. Once everyone left the room, Private James stepped into The Suit. The Suit closed up and the speakers sparked to life.
"Okay Private, were going to start The Suit up."
The hum of the start up sequence echoed from the room before the soft calm female voice came out of the suit.
"Boot up sequence complete, User detected: Welcome back Commander."
"What the hell!?" came the echo from the viewing room as the lead scientist yelled out. "Somebody get Sergeant Pierce up here now!"
Private James reached up with an armored covered hand and lightly hit his forehead while shaking it left to right, "Oh God, what have I done?"
"Commander?" Questioned the suit; the soft, female voice once again echoed into the room, "My analysis has determined you did nothing." Private James looked up at one of the screens to see a floating head of a woman on one of the screens. She looked like she was watching his face for any response to her query, "Did you do something?"
"Uh.. No. I did nothing." He responded, while seeing out of one other screen that some of the scientists had come out with tools, tablets, and equipment. "Who are you?"
"I'm the Artificial Intelligence CR-835. But my last user called me Catherine." 'Catherine' responded to the question. Her face seemed to light up at her name, almost as if she was recalling the last time she was fully activated.
"Catherine huh?" The face lit up once more, nodding slightly before the door was slammed open and Sergeant Pierce arrived with the Commander of the training facilities.
"What in the God damned hells happened now?" Sergeant Pierce yelled out.
Private James started to move to salute, but with all the cables and wires attached and around him, he couldn't move too much. "Sir! Just following your order, Sir!"
"Easy there Sergeant." The Commander placed a hand on Sergeant Pierce's shoulder, looking over the suit as the plates and pieces shifted and moved. "Who's in The Suit?"
"Sir, Private Edward James, Sir." Private James replied, hoping his voice was heard.
"Commander? You're a Private?" 'Catherine' asked, startling both Sergeant Pierce and the Commander.
"We'll discuss that later." Private James responded, turning his head to face the Commander, who he read on his name tag was Reed. "Commander. Permission to speak?"
"By all means, Son." Commander Reed replied, "Though it would be better if I could see your face..." He started to ask for the Private to step out of The Suit if he could, but the helmet seemed to shift and fall back into the body of The Suit. "Well I'll be.." Commander Reed seemed in awe of the movements of the suit as it shifted the materials and helmet away to revile Private James' face.
"Sir. I just got the order to try The Suit, when this happened." Private James spoke out, noticing that the lead scientist was stepping closer to examine the suit while he was in it. "If I remember, no one else got a response from the suit like this?"
"That's correct, Private." The scientist answered. Reaching out to touch the suit as some of the plates moved, "Ray Walter."
"It's a pleasure, Sir." Private James replied, shifting a bit as the scientist continued his examination. "Can I get out of The Suit?"
"Of course, Commander." 'Catherine' spoke once more, shifting the chest and leg pieces out of the way for Edward to step out of. Once he did so, The Suit closed backup as it was before with the wires hanging out before taking a few steps to stand behind and to the right of Private James.
"Seems like we have a lot to learn about each other, Private." Commander Reed spoke up, noticing the way the suit moved to be at parade rest behind the Private. "A lot to learn."
(I'll be editing/posting the next part in a few hours. Mobile editing stinks)
| 2019-08-19T13:38:44
| 2019-08-19T12:49:18
| 29
| 18
|
[WP] You have been kidnapped and your wealthy significant other was told to pay the hefty ransom. Instead, they sent a message back to your kidnappers. “Nice knowing you.” While the kidnappers discuss their next move, you look up through the tiny window, stare at the full moon overhead … and smile.
|
So it was really happening. The moon was looking bright; so bright you could read by it. These poor fools didn't know what was about to happen. Maybe the ransom would be paid; though that was doubtful. The University had a standing rule not to negotiate (and this sort of thing happened a lot) but my other half being in charge of my department might just make a difference there.
You never know. Not that it mattered. The moon was really shining.
"Hey!" Shouts the man obviously in charge of this gang of idiots.
"Yes?" I said. "Are they paying?"
"No. Looks like you're out of luck, my friend."
"Any message?"
"Just 'It was nice knowing you.' Someone doesn't want you back."
"That person is my wife, and she's saying goodbye. If you could let me go, it would be nice to see her again. I might get back in time. You're not getting anything either way. You got a family? You might want to do the same."
"What? That's not how this usually goes. They have to hand over the research, so we need to convince them we're not fooling around. That's bad news for you, and possibly for the next one we take. We're not stopping until we get what we want."
"You're not going to take anyone else. Unless you're quick, you're not going to hurt me either," I replied. "Haven't you looked out the window?"
"Huh. What are you on about?"
"The moon," I sighed. "Have you looked at the moon? Isn't it... beautiful tonight?"
He moved to a window, opened the curtains a crack to peer through. "Jeez, that's bright. How'd it get that bright?"
"You know what department I'm working for. This right now is the reason you took me."
"Astronomy? Look, I'm just doing a job here. Is... is there...?"
"Yes. Though there's nothing wrong with the moon. Well, not yet. What you're seeing is reflected light. We've known about this for months. There's no escaping it. By now half the planet has been cooked."
"What?" He removed his mask. Genuine fear in his face. The moon was on its way down below the horizon. "What are you talking about?"
"You've got..." I looked at the clock on the opposite wall. Assuming it was correct, we had about half an hour. "not long, as it happens. Watch the east, for as long as you can."
He left, went to the next room. Sounds of shouting. Doors slamming. I waited, still tied to the chair. I could hear a television faintly in the next room, a news channel. So they knew now.
My research, and that of my colleagues which confirmed it, had detected the solar anomaly months ago. Massive storms of magnetism building, focusing. There was nothing to be done.
The next room glowed as the eastern windows let in the dawn. Brighter and hotter than any dawn anyone had experienced. Steam from the dew on the window sill as it heated. Brighter and brighter, the curtains disintegrating dur to the intense heat. As I passed out, the air itself ignited as flames rolled over the town.
\--
​
With thanks to Larry Niven.
|
“They were always the worst fucking person in a room.”
The kidnappers dropped their discussion to focus their attention on me. “What the fuck are you talking about? Is there something you’re not telling us?” As the short one spoke to me, the taller one of the three had begun to freak out. “This motherfucking thing was supposed to be easy, just what the fuck is going on here? They don’t give a fuck about them? Is that what I’m fucking hearing? Did you dogshit stupid idiots drag me into something I might get motherfucking ARRESTED for?”
I got so carried away in watching them that I didn’t notice the short one was starting to get closer. Their faces were covered by ski masks and they wore all black, so all I could really make out in the darkness of the room were shadows and the glimmers of the short ones’ eyes as he got close to me. “Answer the fucking question bitch, why the fuck does this note say ‘Nice knowing you’? Do they not fucking give a shit about the piece of shit we have sitting here?”
He really thinks he’s getting to me, but we gave up on marriage. Married life up to this point became me profiting however I could from my spouses’ huge success. “Obviously not dipshi-“
I got punched right across the mouth before I could finish that one. “Listen, we’re not fucking here for your back talk. We’re here for money we’re not seeing right now, so why the fuck are we not seeing it? Don’t make me ask again you fucking bitch.”
So I told him the truth. “We don’t love each other anymore. We haven’t for a *long* time. You may as well have taken an old tv remote, or here’s a tip for next time, take his current one and you might get him to show up!” The tall one really started to freak out when he heard that, so then the third kidnapper had to start trying to get him to calm down. “Listen man it’s okay, it’s okay! This broad won’t get us anywhere but that’s okay! We’ll just untie them and leave em here!” The short one turned around immediately and screamed, “What the fuck are you talking about moron? Untie them?? Then they’ll do what?? Chase us down?? Let the cops know about us? We have to fucking kill them!” The tall one really lost it at that. “Fucking kill? Man I know we brought guns, but nobody fucking told me we were killing anybody! I just want to go home, please don’t fucking make me shoot anybody!” The short one cocked his gun and said, “I’ll fucking do it right now if you’re going to fucking be like that! I’m gonna kill your dumbass here too if you don’t start manning up!” He then started to make his way toward me.
Time seemed to slow down as he made his way toward me, his footsteps booming and slowly become background noise as I got stuck in my mind, using up my last moments alive. This was all life was. We started our relationship like any other high school kids would, but now our final moments are me being mercy killed by morons. It’s weird, but I don’t even know who to root for. I know my now ex could probably rip these fucking stooges apart, but what for? To continue our soulless life? Maybe they could show up at the last minute, get killed, then robbed? That just leaves me alone, but what do I have without them?
The man pushed the gun so far into my temple, but I was so zoned out that I just let it. “You know, I actually dated someone who looks a little like you.” That made me laugh for some reason. Maybe one day she would be in my position all over again. I wonder if all men seeking power and money are loveless?
| 2021-03-19T03:44:38
| 2021-03-19T02:27:37
| 61
| 35
|
[WP] 70 years ago, the US underestimated the power of the atomic bomb. It had completely obliterated the island nation of Japan.
|
August 6. Roosevelt had said that December 7 would be a day to live in infamy, and for four years he was right. But August 6, August 6 *became* infamy. For on that day, the Four Horsemen rode upon the nation of Japan, and brought with them the divine wrath of every deity to whom man had once prayed. Within a single flash of brilliant light, the world had changed forever. The war was over, yet there were no celebrations. A silence descended upon the globe, with all the countries of the world in awe, or fear, of this new weapon.
*A hundred million,* the papers cried. The war in Europe killed half that, at most. Many of them soldiers. Japan may have been militarised, yet within her isles the majority are - were, rather - civilians. The Americans had another, too. But there was no need, Kokura was eliminated by the first. Along with Tokyo, Kyoto, Osaka, Seoul. The fallout reached Shanghai. Civilians there are falling ill and dying in the streets from the effects. Providence had determined that America obtained a weapon greater even than He, with which they delivered more death in a single day than even the great Genghis Khan had seen in his lifetime.
For all the Nazis had done, their crimes paled in comparison to that of the victor. Calls rose for President Truman to be charged with crimes against humanity. Yet no-one dared act, lest the wrath of God descend upon them. *Be grateful it wasn't Berlin,* leaders said, *for if it was, London would be dead.*
|
Excerpt from an interview with retired Major General Robert Truscott, USMC, 1976.
ROBERT: You can’t kill the wind. That was the first thing I thought. Because, the only thing you could hear, or feel, was a heavy wind. It reminded me of what they have out on the plains, in Minnesota. It was this constant force, this one living aspect of the island.
INTERVIEWER: There was nothing else?
ROBERT: No, nothing. We looked for days and days; moving east-west up the island from Kyushu or whatever it was they used to call it. Never found a thing. Just dust.
INTERVIEWER: Interesting, because based on modern studies there were a reported seventy-one milli-
*Robert raises his hand.*
ROBERT: I don’t want to know. I don’t want to know what was in all that dust. In my nightmares, I go back there. In the dust fields. Except, I’m alone. My buddies are gone. I spend days searching for them, digging through the dust, looking through the few husks of pillboxes before I go mad and dig myself back into the Earth.
INTERVIEWER: The experience has left an impact, you’re saying.
ROBERT: (*At this point weary with the topic*) Yeah, you could say that.
*He coughs violently.*
ROBERT: *(In a hoarse mutter)* Dust.
The interviewer looks sympathetic, but moves on.
INTERVIEWER: Why don’t you tell us about the background of your expedition?
ROBERT: Sure. As we all know, the bomb was dropped in August, and that’s when the signals went out. The Enola Gay never returned home; presumed lost in the blast. Truman waited for envoys for surrender. They never came. In fact, no ships, planes, people, or letter had been seen on the island for months. Eisenhower came up with a -
*(Robert begins to cough again, before resuming)*
- plan for my expedition. Called it Operation Voyeur. Sent a division to land, in secret, across the island to perform recon and present terms of surrender to the Japanese.
And that’s when we found out. The islands were gone, replaced with the dust and rock that sits there today. At first we thought, “Japs are crafty, they’re all held up underground!” But we found nothing. No holes, no traps, no basements. The island was a ghost, and it still haunts me.
INTERVIEWER: Thank you for your time, Major General. Now, would you like to comment on the increasing tensions between the United States and the Trans-Russian Empire over the Canadian territories?
END TRANSCRIPT
| 2015-08-06T16:56:53
| 2015-08-06T13:25:27
| 26
| 14
|
[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 me,
I'm sorry I've let you down. I'm sorry I've not achieved what you thought you would. And I'm sorry I couldn't' be braver for you.
I want to assure you that you are a strong person, though. I want you to know that you will achieve what you want and that you'll eventually be the person you want to be. You can get past me, I'm that school friend who keeps your foot in the past. It's time to shake off the nostalgia and move forward.
I'll be here if you ever want to just kick back and listen to some old favourites.
Yours,
You.
|
Dear Subway,
Why the FUCK don't you have BBQ sauce at every store? This is in fact America right? Do you not realize this beautiful, obese nation loves BBQ sauce? It is like the number 1 sauce yet you do not have it in most stores. This is mind blowingly absurd. In the wake of the Jared scandal you could at least do something to satisfy the masses. Make us forget your figure head for 15 years was a creepy pedophile. When I get an average tasting steak and cheese sub on your average, overrated bread, I at least want to drench it in sauce to make it taste a little bit better. Isn't that what your company prides itself on? The ability to customize a sub? The ability to eat fresh? If you don't have the MOST POPULAR SAUCE in America, how the fuck can I eat fresh? I'm eating like a silly little fool while you parade around Ryan Howard like a God. He is no God. I'm God motherfucker. I want my delicious BBQ sauce next time I go there. Oh, what's that you got there, southwest chipotle sauce? Is...is....is that a thing now? It ain't. It's not cute. Be a man, step up your game, and get back to me. BBQ sauce or GTFO.
Regards,
An unsatisfied occasional customer
| 2015-12-05T13:04:05
| 2015-12-05T12:04:02
| 1,756
| 726
|
[WP] A group of fantasy adventures has one of their members replaced by a Doppelganger. The rest of the group realizes what happened, but keep pretending to be fooled since they like the doppelganger a lot more than the guy it replaced.
|
"A fine...mead?!" Rorik shouts over the din of the tavern. His companions smile and nod along with him as he sings some old barbarian tune.
Sings it wrong. They don't tell him that though.
Delia, the group's cleric leans over to their mage.
"Do you think he knows?"
Melvar just shakes his head and holds out a palm towards their massive friend. Friend as of lately, of course. Rorik was a massive pain for the group long before the shifter stole his face.
"He definitely doesn't but...I think I like him. Rorik was a bit of a jerk, always running off into the dungeons with that stupid battlecry. Remember when we went into the Crypt of Alohar, how many good people did he get killed?"
"Yeah...he's kinda cute now. Like a child or something."
They both watch Rorik move around the tavern with his mug and talk to other groups of adventurers. He's loud but not overbearing. He listens to the stories of others instead of telling his own. He drinks but not to excess. He is nothing like the barbarian they all had come to know and...
Melvar doesn't quite finish the thought.
"You know what Del, I like him. I know he's a shifter but look at everyone. We all know and he's trying so hard to be like Rorik but he just can't. I don't think there's a mean bone in that thing's body. You know that he hasn't made fun of my beard once, not in months."
She snorts. The young mage was trying so hard to grow it out and he'd been self-conscious about it for months.
A warrior passing by their table to his own party leans over and whispers it to the pair.
"You should keep him. He's an improvement."
"Friends!" Rorik shouts, sitting again at their table, "What fun! And we do this between every adventure? And people give us gold to go on those adventures? To spend here? Amazing!"
He is off again before they can even respond.
"Do you think The Dwarf knows?" Melvar watches Rorik join another random group of adventures and sing yet another song. Still wrong.
Delia shrugs.
"I don't know and I don't care. We're gonna keep him. He's like a dog or something. But useful."
Melvar strokes his "beard" for a moment.
"Alright, we'll keep him. But I swear if he ever makes fun of my beard-"
"What? You'll strangle him with one of your wisps? You should really shave, you're looking more like a magical hobo than a wizard. 'I cast: smell of unwashedness!'"
As she walks away laughing at her own joke Melvar narrows his eyes. He lifts his mug and mutters something into it before drinking.
"I'll replace you too if I have to..."
|
Approaching the city gate, the adventurers stiffen as the guards halt their way. Of course, Mr. Nobility has to be the one to step forward and speak for the group. Marian lightly touches her bow, prepared to ready an arrow if her arrogant companion gets them into trouble again.
"Greetings, my good men. My name is Hector of the house Rellon. Do you happen to have any directions for a band of weary travelers? We seek no conflict, only a comfortable place to rest for the night."
Sora and Fiera share a look. The last time they entered a new city, he tried to march right past the guards, drawing his sword when they stopped him. They had to find accommodations in a dingy little inn outside the city gates, where the other patrons all gave the distinct impression of being criminals.
Now, though, one guard obligingly gave them directions, and Hector... Hector actually thanked him, and clapped his back like they were old friends. The guard laughed cheerfully and sent them on their way. This was wrong. Hector didn't have friends. He didn't make friends. The only reason his companions hadn't booted him was his skill in combat, which had just barely saved them from more problems than his personality had gotten them into.
That night, as Hector remained in the common room to buy another round for the crowd... an unusual act of generosity... the others gathered in the private room they'd booked.
"Do you remember earlier today, when he left to investigate that noise in the trees?" Asked Sora.
Marian nodded. "But there was nothing there."
"I know," said Sora, "But what if he liked?"
"You think he could be under someone's control?" Fiera chimed in. "I could dispel any magic that might be around him."
Sora shook his head. "I don't think it's control. He hasn't hurt us or been irrational. He's just... *different*. I think he's been replaced."
"That's pretty far-fetched." Marian's voice was skeptical.
"It's happened before," said Sora. "Not all shapeshifters are evil. Some of them just want a safe group to live among. A family. Like what we are to Hector, even though he's an asshole who doesn't deserve us."
Fiera narrowed her eyes. "How do you know so much about shapeshifters?"
Sora sighed. It was time to come clean. "Because I'm one of them. You guys didn't know the real Sora. He tried to raid my nest. Would have gotten a good part of my family killed, as well as his whole group, if I hadn't taken his place. Foolhardy bastard. His friends figured me out, though. I barely escaped, and by then I was used to this form."
"No." Fiera shook her head. "You can't just replace people. The real Hector..."
"The real Hector didn't give a toss about any of us," said Marian. "Do you really think he's worth our compassion? When was the last time he extended any to you?"
Fiera was quiet for a minute, remembering the time she'd broken a leg fighting a troll. And Hector elected to carry the troll's treasure chest out of the dungeon, leaving her to hobble after him using a giant club as a makeshift crutch. "I guess if this shapeshifter is anything like you, Sora, it's probably an improvement."
"I know I was," commented Marian. "My new parents must have known something was different, but the family got along so much better with me in her place that they never questioned it."
Fiera stood from her chair, backing toward the door. "Are you shapeshifters going to replace everybody?"
"No," said Sora and Marian simultaneously.
Sora continued. "You're a good person, Fiera. We only take the place of assholes. People whose absence would actually improve things. For everybody, not just those of us who can change our form. Trust me, Fiera." He smiled, the friendly expression that Fiera had come to find reassuring after the years they'd spent together. "You have nothing to worry about."
| 2017-09-15T07:29:21
| 2017-09-15T06:04:09
| 5,321
| 193
|
[WP] Write a story in the style of a teen novel which follows the journey of a group of teenagers fighting to bring down an oppressive dystopian government. Over the course of the story it becomes clear to the readers that the government is in the right.
Inspired by [this](https://np.reddit.com/r/AskReddit/comments/3yxj68/what_thing_in_a_movie_makes_it_instantly_a_bad/cyhosea) comment.
|
The Resistance was all gathered together now, huddled around a heater, warming their hands. "It is now time" said Xadus, "Time to take back what is ours". His sister, Xadai, looked on ruefully. "They think they can control us. These evil overlords will have another thing coming. Soon. The Resistance lives!"
Suddenly, without any warning, the door burst open, revealing a rather large figure, dark, with the light shining behind them.
"I told you not to leave the table without eating your brussel sprouts, Kevin."
"SCREW YOU MOM! I HATE YOU!"
"AND MY NAME IS XADUS!"
|
"Fuck Deacon, that was close." I hear from across the room, the warehouse echoing, making the voice louder.
"Hayden, what have we gone over about swearing." I say calmly, back, looking at the blonde brute of a teenager, his shoulder wrapped in bandages.
"Sorry, boss." he replies, shrugging, avoiding eye contact, "I keep forgetting."
I shake my head, *he's hopeless.* The room falls into the silent buzzing of the overhead light, and the faded sounds of the generator in the background. I take a seat in the old, battered couch, looking around the once empty space. Boxes of ammunition line tables, clips ready to be used, some half loaded. The guns are kept in a lock, the key resting warmly on my chest.
I sigh as Hayden stops in front of me, grimacing from the pain. *Are we really up for this?* I give him a cold look, trying to be dismissive. After all, he ran out into the line of fire. His wounds are his fault. If Niki hadn't of saved his ass, he wouldn't be standing in front of me here.
"What did the supply route have this time?" I ask, motioning for him to sit down across from me.
He takes a nervous seat, "Purified water, food, basic medical sh- stuff. Not enough to last very long, but also not enough for Watch to realize we've taken it."
I bring my hand to my temples and rub, "We need more than that if we're going to do this attack properly."
"Deacon, we have the tech. We've raided enough, don't you think? We're a resistance, not a gang." Hayden says quietly, to which I look up carefully at him.
"Don't get too trigger happy. Hayden" I tell him firmly, "We need better intel, and a better supply route. Go find Casey, she'll be working on something. Tell Niki I'd like to speak with her."
"Of course. Yeah." he stands up, nodding to me out of respect. He quickly goes off into a corridor, his footsteps echoing, leaving me to my thoughts.
*We're not ready. They're years ahead of us. I don't think we even know what we're fighting for anymore. Fighting to survive? Fighting an oppressive government? Fighting ourselves? Gods, killing Jennifer last week was* ***not*** *part of the plan. But still, she ratted us out. What was I supposed to do?*
I turn my head to the sound of walking, and my eyes settle on Niki, her slim figure walking into view. "What's Watch planning?" I ask, shaking my head.
"Some raid. Not a word of where, when, or who. I don't know if Jenn's tip even went through." Niki answers, her voice echoing as much as her footsteps.
"We need to clear out." I say, mostly to myself.
"And go where? Watch is targeting us. We're terrorists, Deacon. Fucking terrorists." I don't call out her cussing, feeling the need to let one out myself, "We started this out with good intentions, Deacon. We're nothing more than a gang."
I look at the floor, concentrating on the concrete. This warehouse is a the very edge of the Gospel, where the poor die and the rich get richer. Watch is big, and he's powerful, but there's something going on. He's stopped supplying to the poor, blaming it on low food rations. We barely take enough to hurt supply routes. He's shut down the electricity on over half the grid, claiming low oil supplies, while the rich get provided their own generators. He's killing and locking up the poor from stealing from the rich in order to get by. Something has to be done, *but are we the ones to do it?*
"We'll figure it out. Casey has reports of an abandoned bunker east of Gospel. It might be worth checking out." I reply calmly, ignoring my thoughts.
"I'll report to Casey your requests, boss." Niki replies, her face turning into a grin and sliding down on the couch beside me.
She lays her head down on my lap, reaching her hand up and rubbing my chest. I look down at her smiling face, disgusted. One part by the fact that she only wants to get into my pants, one part the knowledge that she's been sleeping with Hayden, and the last part the visual high she's on.
"You need to get rid of that stuff." I tell her firmly, pushing her hand away, "It only causes trouble."
Her grin turns into a scowl, her short black hair messy from my lap, her dark eyes with a slight red tint to them, "Well at least I have something that makes me happy rather than going around shooting kids."
I throw her off my lap, hearing a small thud as she hits the floor. I look down at her, trying to keep my cool as best as possible, feeling like I'm the only sane one here, "You get off that crap or I'll take it away."
"Oh fuck you, Deacon." Niki replies, her voice in a mocking tone, "What're you going to do? Shoot me? You barely come out of your room other than to boss us around. Hell, I'm surprised you can hold a damn gun with how much *field* work you do."
I close my eyes for a moment, breathing in and out slowly, knowing it's the drugs making her this way. For a moment though, I almost wonder if she's right. A part of me knowing she is. I control my breathing, trying to keep my anger to myself, and kneel down, looking right into her blood stained eyes.
"It's your choice Niki, I suggest you make it soon." I stand up, walking off deeper into the warehouse, somewhere where I can clear my head.
It's days like these that I wonder if we're really the good guys.
***
www.thearcherswriting.wordpress.com
| 2016-01-01T01:19:37
| 2015-12-31T22:28:50
| 662
| 13
|
[WP] When someone dies, they are always challenged by Death itself to a chess game, symbol of how nobody can win against it. Except you. You died and just won the game. Death is not amused. Both of you don't know what should happen now.
|
"Rook to..." I couldn't remember what square it was. I'd never really played chess before. Maybe once or twice, but I had never really had any interest in the game. It just figures I'd have to play one of the few games I never cared for in an attempt to resurrect my soul.
THAT'S E4.
I couldn't entirely tell, but I got the distinct impression that Death was a little fed up with me, "Th-Thank you."
DON'T MENTION I--
The hooded figure gave such a start, slamming his bone-hands down onto the table where we were playing, that I thought I might have another heart-attack.
HOW IN THE HELL--WHAT'S ALL THIS--WHO ARE YOU AGAIN?!
"I'm--"
I was suddenly smacked in the face by a large roll of parchment. Death moved his fingers along the list, checking names and muttering things like, DEAD... DEAD... NOT LONG NOW... OH THAT WILL GET SOME LAUGHS WHEN HE SHOWS UP...
IS YOUR NAME TEIMOUR?
"No, I'm--"
WESLEY?
"What? No! I'm--"
VLADIMIR?
"NO! I'm a woman!"
SUSAN...? IS THAT YOU? Death leaned in a bit closer. If he had been wearing spectacles he would have lowered them momentarily, in an attempt to get a better look.
"What? NO! My name is Leanne! What is the matter with you?"
I'M SORRY LEA--WHAT WAS IT AGAIN?
"Leanne!"
RIGHT RIGHT, OF COURSE... WELL, LEANNE, I DON'T KNOW HOW TO TELL YOU THIS, BUT IT SEEMS YOU'VE WON THE GAME.
"What game?"
Death looked at me blankly...which may not have been entirely accurate, but it felt like a blank stare, with a possible undertone of distain.
THE CHESS GAME, LEANNE. YOU'VE WON.
"I'm sorry, I don't quite follow..."
OH FOR THE LOVE OF--YOU KNOW WHAT? I DON'T CARE ANYMORE. IT'S NOT MY PROBLEM.
Death rose out of his seat very swiftly, picked up his scythe, and chucked it at me. HEre! "Good luck," he said, "I doubt you'll have to deal with it for long."
And with that he began to walk away.
I STILL DON'T UNDERSTAND. I called after him.
|
My name is Gerald Michaels, and I beat the Grim Reaper in a chess game. I've only played chess a few times in my life, but I knew the rules all too well. It took me 5 moves that day, and I won the one game that death had put for me. Five moves, in total, and he made the last one. Yet I won.
My life was never particularly extraordinary. I had a wife, kids, a house, hell, I even had two dogs. Yet, that did not scratch the insatiable urge in my heart for something more. I searched my whole life for it to no avail. The thing that I wanted was not within reach of me. I died an old, decrepit, haggard old man who never found his purpose. I closed my eyes, and decades of experience washed into the abyss.
"Care for a game?" He said. And a game we played, one that lasted under two minutes after the rules were explained. All I had to do is win, Death had to fold his knight, and that would be that.
I moved a pawn. He moved one too to match me. I moved one up a space, and he matched the same.
"Death," I began, "Can you touch the top of your king? I'm curious if they're the same size. Mine and yours?"
He put his bone-y finger, aged with years of post-mortem murder and finess on the tip of the king. And when he touched it, I let out the loudest, mouth earth shattering, ear splitting scream the void had ever known. And it fucking worked. Death reeled back in shock. His finger tapped the king, it touched the bottom of the board. Death had conceded the game.
He was not amused. I waited a moment, while the anger in Death subsided. I waited longer, and longer.
What now?
"Death?" I said, "What happens now?" And all he could answer was... whatever I wanted.
Ninety-five years I searched on this Earth for the thing I wanted. And, while clarity is not that thing, it gave me the ability to know in that moment what I wanted.
"Death," I smiled. "Show me the cosmos."
| 2018-04-20T14:02:46
| 2018-04-20T12:58:20
| 34
| 21
|
[WP] Write a story that literally makes no sense while reading it until the very last sentence.
|
Elephants are big but this one is unique. Almost the size of the sun but blue. He's flying, without wings obviously.
Ninjas everywhere. This poor man is surrounded by them, he will never make it out alive. Or maybe they are protecting him?
The most simple garden in the world. One huge flower. I wonder if it's harder to take care of one big flower or a bunch of small ones?
''Sorry I kept you waiting Mr. Price. You can sit now, we'll discuss your son's recent behavior...''
Her voice drew my attention away from the kids drawings on the wall. Teachers - Parents meetings, always a pleasure to attend them.
|
i could hear the whine of precision power tools...
all i could taste was blood and metal. they shone a light in my eyes, i couldn't see who was standing over me...
"don't worry, it'll all be over soon..." he said through a mask as he put a thin silver device in my mouth. just when i thought it couldn't get worse, he turns it on and fucking jams it into my teeth.
last time i go to that fuckup of a dentist..
| 2022-09-15T12:44:53
| 2015-01-12T11:14:34
| 1,493
| 28
|
[WP] Everyone is born with blond hair. A person's hair turns brown when they lose their innocence.
Edit: Loving all of these takes, guys! Definitely a lot darker than I expected!
|
"Honey?"
Susan's voice shook a little bit. She was in the doorway of Hannah's room, chewing her nails. Brown hair spilled down her back in waves. Hers had been brown for years, like mine. But the little girl, curled up in bed under the blankets, had blonde curls that spread over the pillow. She was only six. Susan folded an arm across her belly as she looked up at me.
"Does her hair look darker to you?" Her voice was a whisper to keep from waking our daughter. I slid an arm around her shoulders, shaking my head. I was mostly humoring her as I squinted into the room.
"No," I said finally, kissing her temple. "No. She's okay."
She frowned as she leaned into me, but she didn't say more. I sighed, squeezing her small frame, and I let go. I knew why she was worried. A woman at her work had a daughter about Hannah's age, a girl named Christina. Christina's hair had turned brown two weeks ago, and almost immediately after, Christina's father was arrested for raping her. It was sick. Of course, the man's hair had been almost black, so we really shouldn't have been surprised. Still, the idea that something like that could happen to Hannah, that something so awful could cause the change so early, made the both of us uncomfortable.
Our older daughter, Sam, she was entering high school this year. We were expecting her change to come any day now, really. How could it not? Mine had, and so had Susan's. Cursing, boys (or girls), drinking. We all knew it happened. The hair was just an unfortunate indicator that made it really hard to hide. Some students used to bleach their hair to keep their parents in the dark for as long as possible. Sam couldn't do that, though, and I'm not sure if I was grateful or sad about it. Her hair was a strawberry blonde color that you just couldn't get from a box.
"Mom?"
Sam's soft voice made us both jump. She wasn't supposed to be home. She was supposed to be at a sleepover. I whirled. My heart dropped into the pit of my stomach faster than it ever had in my life.
She stood in front of us with her head down. Buried in a sweatshirt three sizes too big on her bony body and jeans stained with grass and mud and *please God don't let that be blood*. But it wasn't just that. Her hair, tied back in a rumpled ponytail, was brown.
It wasn't a light brown, either. Sometimes, if whatever triggers the change isn't too bad, you end up with a cocoa color. Susan's is like that. No, Sam's was a deep, dark brown, rich and full and terrifying.
"Oh, Sammy." Susan's voice cracked, broke. She moved forward and pulled Sam into a hug, but Sam didn't hug back. She just leaned in a little, keeping her arms tight around herself. I swallowed past a throat as dry as sandpaper, barely managing to croak out the words,
"Sam, what happened?"
She looked up at me over Susan's shoulder. I realized she was wearing make-up--it was a new thing for her, ever since junior high had ended. Eyeliner ran in streaks down her face; the lip gloss on her mouth was smudged across her chin and jaw.
"Amy has an older brother," she said, and that was all.
|
I'm the kind of boy most people would expect to have blonde hair; I always turn my homework in on time, follow all school rules, have never said a cuss word, etc. Well, it all happened last year. I was a new fresh freshman ready for high school.
When I arrived at school, I was greeted by kind smiles. My first class, Geography, was fine. The teacher was nice, I had some friends, and not a difficult subject for me. Next was Algebra 2, a class I would do well at, but not like because of the amount of homework.
Next was P.E., in this class we got our P.E. locker combinations and went to change clothes. Well guess whose locker was next to mine. A very handsome Spanish guy with shining brown eyes, lushes dark brown hair, and light-brown skin. He had gotten there earlier and was already changing so I got to see him take off his shirt to reveal his perfect abs and necklace. The necklace had a rainbow flag on it. My mind was about to burst. Things lead to another and we made out in the bathroom stall.
When I came home that evening, I had a lot of explaining to do to my mom.
| 2014-05-10T17:48:04
| 2014-05-10T16:51:35
| 59
| 25
|
[WP] At the age of 16 everyone gets teleported into a small room. In front of you is a table with all kinds of meals from apples to gourmet meats. Whatever you take a bite of will determine what superpower you'll get. You are the first Person to take a bite of the table itself
|
I'm nobody's fool.
Tell me to go left, I go right. Offer me what's behind door number 1, you better believe I'm opening door number 2.
Take me to a small room and show me a table covered in food?
Oh, I know what's up.
The food is trash, a diversion.
It's the table. That's the good stuff.
Under the duck l'orange, apple pie, and foie gras, there's a table made of the most succulent, delicious, textured maplewood I've ever seen. And who knows, this wood just might give me the greatest superpower of them all. Dimensional manipulation or something. It's possible. This is the magic 16-year-old teleportation room. In here anything goes.
So I sweep the food off the table and crouch by the corner.
The wood is there in front of me. It's rough. Never been sanded or polished. I can already imagine what all that texture will feel like on my tongue. I just know it's going to be divine.
I brace my hands to either side of the corner, open my mouth wide, and, with a sudden snap like a viper's strike, I bite the wood.
What follows is a pain like nothing I've ever experienced. I'm pretty sure every one of my front teeth has fallen out of my head. I want to cry, but the pain is so bad and my face is so squinched that tears can't make it out of my tear ducts.
I'm in this state of hurt and confusion when the reverse teleportation kicks in and deposits me back at my 16th birthday party. All my friends and family are there. Their eyes go wide when they see me.
Through my tears I ask, "What are you looking at?"
My sister opens a pocket mirror and holds it up to me.
Printed in bright red letters across my forehead are the words:
TABLE-BITING IDIOT
*****
*r/TravisTea*
|
"You took a bite out of what!" Your mom yelled when she found out. "I thought I raised you better than that!. . ."
"Mo. . ." You tried in vain
"You could have had super strength by eating the spinach or flight with pork. But noooo you had to be a smart ass and bite the damn table. Should have known you would end up doing something stupid like your father. And take a bite out of the Gimpy Gimpy. Made him kill himself before he even figured out his power."
"Mom! I know my power"
"You better tell me it's growing trees. God knows this planet needs it right now with all the pyros out there right now who ate the hottest pepper they could stand."
"Uhhh yeah about that."
"That's it good at least you will be some use unlike your father who left me alone to finish highschool alone with you."
"No, it's not that. . . You are not going to like it."
"Out with it."
"Well you see I've gotten the power well it's better that I don't tell you"
"You better tell me otherwise I'm going to kick you out of the house!"
"Mom please for once just listen! here there are two numbers the first one is for my new cellphone the second is for a therap. . ."
"A what! I don't need one of those good for nothing. . ."
"MOM, please you need to see this woman. I want things to go back to how they used to be when I was a child."
"I don't need help I need you to be a better son! Answer my question!"
Tears formed in my eyes as a solution formed in my mind. I started backing towards the front door.
"What are you going to do leave me like your dad did! Good I don't want you around anymore"
"Mom. You don't mean that. I love you but I have to go things will get. . ."
"Get out!"
Tears were flowing from her eyes at this point and from experience I knew there was no calming her down. I clamped down on my own urge to yell back something that would hurt her. I knew better now.
"Please just call that number we can talk again when things get. . ."
"Out!" She yelled while reaching for something to throw at me.
I ducked and was out the door tears flooding from my eyes. I already knew she would get better she would call the number and our relationship would get repaired. Didn't make it any easier to do this. But I had to leave her. I had the power now to see and fix clinically stupid. I needed to hone this ability for the good of the people and I needed to start with a one way ticket to Florida.
Edit: a word.
| 2020-03-19T08:53:04
| 2020-03-19T08:15:56
| 791
| 330
|
[WP] On everyone's 18th birthday at noon, one word appears in their skin, depicting their career or purpose in life. On your birthday you're staring at a clock showing 11:59am, family and friends gathered around for your reveal.
Path 1: Noon strikes, and you stare at your forearm intently. 12:01, still nothing appears.
Path 2: one word fades in slowly, followed by a second...
|
First word PHYSIO was fairly easy to see. Perhaps a Greek name he wondered as the word THE appeared below it.
"Oh wow" he thought, its going to be a superhero like 'Conan the destroyer'.
"Please be magician.... please be Physio the magician" he said under his breath, as the last word appeared. 'RAPIST'.
"Rapist..... rapist" he said in bewilderment. "Physio the rapist".
"It says physiotherapist you moron" came a voice behind him.
|
It was 11:56am, on the 6th of November, 2018. The family had gathered around, Uncle Leon and his boyfriend David, my Mum and most importantly; my sister.
My Uncle had been given ***COLLECTOR*** and spent the majority of his life as a Tax Collector, in and out of offices and working with Trackers for the New Earth Government. My Grandfather was given ***SOLDIER*** and he fought during the Vietnam War and served his entire career in the Army while my mother was given ***INSPIRE***, through the hardships she experienced in life she would one day go on to become a world-renown philanthropist and built a successful business to help others in need.
11:57...
"I can't wait to see what you'll get! I hope it'll be Hero or Protector, imagine that, having a big brother as a hero!" Exclaimed my sister,
I chuckled, "Don't get too ahead of yourself."
11:58...
I looked up to see people I'd known and loved during my 18-year tenure on this world and I was only two minutes from discovering my future.
11:59...
My Uncle came over and shook my hand, "Whatever happens mate, we'll love you no matter what."
I smiled in return and closed my eyes, ready for the big moment.
12:00...
I gritted my teeth, feeling the burning sensation as the word was etched into my arm. I opened my eyes to see my family, standing there, terrified. I slowly tilted my head downwards and saw five letters sitting there;
***DEATH***
My mum broke down, years of working hard to give us, her kids a better life gone to waste. My Uncle started to walk over as I felt yet another sensation in my arm...
"Oh my God... Look!"
Afraid to see what awaited me, I looked down at my arm once more and what I saw... I will never forget.
***DEATH, DESTROYER OF WORLDS***
EDIT: This is my first WP so go nice please :)
| 2017-03-16T03:20:58
| 2017-03-16T02:18:58
| 427
| 212
|
[WP] Seeing success with the purchase of Marvel and now Fox, The Walt Disney Company announces it's next major acquisition: The Catholic Church.
|
ROME (Reuters) - Walt Disney Co agreed to buy The Catholic Church for $150 billion in cash and stock, a blockbuster deal that includes the surprise promise of a new book in its hit series, "The Bible" in 2019.
Disney Chief Executive Bob Iger told analysts on Tuesday that the plan is to release a new book in the series every two to three years thereafter. The last time a book was added to the hit series cannon was 397AD, and The Vatican has in the past denied any plans for more.
Pope Francis, a international icon known for his humility and as God's representative on earth, will remain with Disney as a creative consultant on the new books.
“It’s now time for me to pass ‘The Bible’ on to a new generation of storytellers,” he said in a statement. Disney will pay about half the purchase price in cash and issue a massive number of shares at closing.
“This is one of the greatest pieces of intellectual property of all time,” Iger said. Like Disney’s purchases of Marvel Entertainment, Pixar studio, and LucasFilm, The Catholic Church will “drive long-term value to our shareholders,” he said.
Chief Financial Officer Jay Rasulo said the deal would balloon Disney’s earnings per share in fiscal 2018 and 2019. He also said Disney would repurchase all of the issued shares on the open market within the next two years, on top of planned buybacks.
This agreement marks the third time in less than seven years that Disney has signed a massive deal to take over a beloved studio or character portfolio, part of its strategy to acquire brands that can be stretched across TV, movies, theme parks and the Internet.
In early 2006, Disney struck a deal to acquire “Toy Story” creator Pixar, and in the summer of 2009 it bought the comic book powerhouse Marvel. 2014 brought the acquisition of Lucasfilm.
“Disney already has a great portfolio and this adds one more,” said Morningstar analyst Michael Corty. “They don’t have any holes, but their past deals have been additive.”
Iger said he and Pope Francis first discussed a possible sale about 18 months ago. Pope Francis was looking to expand the reach of the church to younger audiences, and Iger was looking to add another well-known brand to the Disney empire. The two signed the deal in the Sistine Chapel, at the Church's worldwide headquarters on Tuesday.
“Everywhere I went, The Catholic Church was already there, and sometimes they got there ahead of us,” said Iger in an interview. “I kept seeing that brand and decided maybe we should buy it.”
He told analysts he believed there was “substantial pent-up demand” for new media and products. The series' iconic intellectual property will also boost Disney’s sales of toys and other consumer products, particularly overseas, executives said.
Disney also will be able to extend the presence of the franchise at its theme parks around the globe, Iger said. Biblical characters also are likely to find a home on the Disney XD cable channel, which is aimed at young boys.
Iger wouldn’t commit to keeping the Catholic Church operation separate from Disney, as he did with Pixar and Marvel.
|
These were difficult times for Asha. She was at that precarious stage in her youth where nothing seemed impossible, where red carpets seemed to unfurl for her at every direction she deigned to take. Yet, it seemed as if her parents wanted nothing more than for her to stay at home, squirreled away in her room, caged, wings clipped. Be careful that no one takes notice of you, they would say. Every day was a battle for freedom, a struggle to express herself, in ways that no one else seemed to understand.
Thus it was that when she returned from school and saw two suited men in her living room, with her parents sitting anxiously on the modest settee, and her private diaries stacked neatly on the coffee table, that Asha truly despaired. My life is over, she thought, they have come to put me in an institution.
“Asha,” her father began, “there is no need to worry. These men have come to… learn more about you.” Keyla Thamuya beckoned for his daughter to sit, and so she did. Asha may have been harbouring the seeds of teenage rebellion in her bosom, but rare was the occasion that she would ignore a direct entreaty from her father.
“My name is Nathan Barrows,” the first stranger began, handing over a gilded card with an embossed castle at the top left corner. He was young, the silver yet to settle on his head, but there was a hungry, ravenous edge to his demeanour that spoke of ambition. “I’m from Walt Disney, and this is my partner, Frederick Dunley. We wanted very much to talk to you about your… writing hobby.”
Asha’s mother wailed at this point, unable to contain herself. “I told you, I told you!” Jaine said. “What you write is *blasphemy*! The church has been good to us, and Father Andrews has been nothing but kind. When he asked you to stop, you should have! Why did you not listen!”
Nathan laughed, then said, “No, mam, please don’t worry. As I said, my employers have recently acquired the Catholic Church, and let’s just say that with new management comes new ways of thinking. Your daughter is in no trouble at all.”
“That’s true,” said Frederick. He appeared to the younger of the two, with features that would not have seemed out of place in college. “Our employers were very happy, in fact, to learn from Father Andrews that Asha has such talents. He had her name down, you see, in a book he kept. The people he needed to keep an eye on, according to him. The Catholic Church is wonderfully meticulous when it comes to their records.”
Asha’s heart sank. It had been too much to hope that Father Andrews would have forgotten about this. How many others had he told? Who else thought her mad, insane?
“I’m… sorry, I’ve tried to stop,” Asha said. “Those diaries… they are old, from before. I stopped when Father Andrews told me I was wrong to blaspheme. I guess he didn’t say I had to throw them away, so I just, you know, kept them.”
“Nothing wrong,” Keyla mumbled, nodding. “We been doing as Father Andrews said, too. Prayers, once in the morning, once in the evening. Keeps us all on the straight and narrow. She’s not been writing any more after that, see?”
Asha gulped, then averted her eyes. This, she had not yet told her father.
“Is that true now?” asked Nathan, softly. “You are no longer inspired to write?”
Asha sized the men up, then weighed her chances. She had watched enough TV to know that you only lied when you were sure you could get away with it, otherwise you just ended up worse off than before. Besides, if they said there was nothing wrong with it…
“I still do,” Asha said. “But not on paper anymore. Just… online. But anonymously. Just scribbling down thoughts, feelings, you know.”
Asha’s parents groaned, and Asha tried to block them out. The confession lightened her, emboldened her, and a certain defiance took root. She was who she was, she had tried to change, but this was her. This was truly her, Asha, the writer.
“Does anyone read it?” asked Nathan.
“Not many. I don’t really keep track of the numbers. I just write, whenever the mood takes me. If people read it, cool. I don’t really care.”
“How do you know what to write?” asked Nathan. “What would you say inspires you?”
This part was trickier. Asha wished she knew, but the truth was that she rarely remembered the process of writing. There was just the urge, a burning sensation, a frisson which would crawl along her skin, churn her guts until she put pen to paper, finger to keyboard. Then, only after she was done, would she regain control of herself. And only then would she read the product of her fertile imagination.
They had gone to Father Andrews after her parents had interrupted her writing session once. The way they told it, she had not heeded any of their calls. Instead, she had written like a person obsessed, possessed. Asha could not be physically torn away from her desk until she was done, the words bleeding dry into the pages. It didn’t help that these episodes were happening more and more frequently – on the train home, in the park, once even during dinner, when she wore through six napkins with her scribblings as her mother wept.
Father Andrews had put a stop to it with his prayers and his blessings, and his sharp admonition to her not to dabble in things she knew little about. It was easy for Asha to promise that she would change, since she truly meant it. She omitted to mention, of course, that she did not think it would help much.
“Can you read some of it for us?” asked Frederick. “Say, whatever you wrote most recently?”
“Why do you want to hear it?” she replied.
“In due time,” Nathan said, “I will be happy to explain. But first, we need to know if we are barking up the wrong tree, as it were.”
Asha looked at her parents, but there was no reaction from them. They sat frozen, that same dread hanging off their skin like the mold on week-old bread, no doubt already roiling in disdain at what was to come. She shrugged, then whipped out her phone, navigated to the post she made the day before, and started reading.
It was somewhat heartening to see Frederick take careful notes as she read. A receptive audience for once, she thought.
When she was done, she looked up, and was startled by the gleam in Nathan’s eyes, the broadening smile on his face. He looked as if he was about to punch the air, cry out with glee.
“It is time to explain,” said Keyla. “We have let you into our house, entertained you enough. What does Walt Disney want with Asha? What interest could you have in a young girl’s ramblings?”
“Are you familiar with Star Wars, Marvel?” asked Nathan.
“Yes, everyone does.”
“And you have seen what Walt Disney does to them?”
“You have made more movies, if that’s what you mean.”
Nathan shook his head, laughing. “That’s one way to put it. More importantly, Walt Disney truly believed that there were more stories to be told, more tales to be spun. They just lacked the money, or the vision, or the daring to break out of their mould. So we helped them. Our executives coached them, guided them, helped them achieve the next step in their journey.”
“Recently,” said Frederick, who too had begun to vibrate with barely-contained excitement, “we came to hear of rumours, whispers of how someone had begun to predict, with *astonishing* accuracy, the happening of events *before* they occurred, with a certain detail that could not be imitated. These things happen from time to time – there’s always a kook round the corner claiming the ability to read the future. But these writings, they were different, special.”
“How many predictions do you know speak of the hidden forces which instigate them?” continued Nathan. “Which go into detail of how the heavenly and the lowly agents conduct their work amongst men? Which contain too the kernels of truth for mankind to be aware of, to ascribe to?”
Nathan removed a brown envelope from his jacket, then slid it across the table. It was within reach, but Asha hesitated.
“You’re special. Just like the prophets of old, there is something, *someone*, speaking through you. You’re not just writing what you feel like writing,” Frederick said. “No. You’re doing something more than that, something very few of us can. Too long has your voice, like the others, gone unheard. That’s where we come in. We’re going to help you do what you were placed on this earth to do, Asha.”
Nathan smiled, then held out the envelope again.
“What say you, Asha Thamuya? Would you like to come with us and continue writing the Bible?”
---
/r/rarelyfunny
| 2017-11-12T07:00:32
| 2017-11-12T06:57:41
| 68
| 32
|
[WP] "What do you mean you don't put a miniature explosion spell in your gun?" "What do you mean you don't use gunpowder-based propellant for your gun?"
|
I placed my AR15 rifle on the table beside us on the shooting range. The Wizard did likewise with his... 'gun'.
We switched places and began to examine each other's weapon of choice.
"So this whole doodad just moves a little hammer to hit this bit, which explodes?" The Wizard asked, leaning over to examine the rifle. His luxurious beard fell onto the lower half, collecting all sorts of gun grease and gunpowder flakes as he swept his gaze along the frame.
"Basically, yes." I replied, not looking away from his magical rifle equivalent. "So you just take this hollow stick... and cast an explosion spell... here?"
I pointed to a small blackened knot in the wood, that looked like it had taken quite a beating. The Wizard glanced over his shoulder to see where I was pointing.
"Oh no, the spell is cast *FROM* there." He said, as if that clarified anything. "The explosion happens up here" He indicated the very tip of the wooden tube, which would be the end of the muzzle on my rifle.
"But where is the bullet?" I asked incredulously. "Where is the barrel rifling that makes the bullet spin for accuracy?"
The Wizard scoffed. "What? You don't spin something to make it accurate. Ever see a dizzy man walk a straight line?"
"What? No, not like that, like-" I began, but the Wizard cut me off mid sentence.
"I ask a lump of metal if it could please fling itself to the place I need to shoot, and it complies." He said, as if it were the most obvious method of shooting. "I usually make the metal on the spot, drawing the elements from the earth and air around me. You'd be surprised how much is just floating in the wind here." He waved his hand around in the air like he was trying to catch a fly, then help up a pea sized metallic sphere. "See? That's just what I caught right then."
I gaped at the magical man. "Thats amazing!" I said.
"Eh, it's the same as breathing really. Just moving particles through the air. Just have to pick which ones to keep and which to throw back." He said nonchalantly. "So what does your gizmo fire?"
I walked back to my rifle on the other side of the table, and grabbed a box of target rounds. "These. They are .223 caliber rifle rounds."
The Wizard peered at it closely. "And you grow these yourself?" He asked.
"Oh no, we purchase them. There are companies that just make bullets."
He glanced from the bullet to me and back. "You rely on someone making and selling these to you?" He asked incredulously. I think he would have been more understanding if I had told him they were petrified insects instead of manufactured items.
"What if you don't bring enough with you, or if you can't afford to buy more?" He asked.
I shrugged. "Then you don't shoot."
The Wizard shook his head, dislodging some of the gun range muck from his beard. "I can't believe you people are ok with this."
The Wizard held out a hand and summoned his stick rifle. It flew to his awaiting hand, causing his long sleeve to billow impressively.
"This can fire until I tell it to stop, or if I use all of the metal in the region." He said smugly. "If that happens, anything in the area will be long dead already."
"Why's that?" I asked.
"Because I would have used the calcium and iron and copper from their own bodies to make the bullets."
"Well," I said. "That is terrifying."
"*Indeed*" the Wizard replied.
We stood there for a few moments, each looking over the others rifle. Almost in unison, we both said "Can I shoot this a few times?"
We looked up, and both smiled. This would surely be the start of a wonderful friendship.
"No", the Wizard said firmly.
Oh. Or not, I guess.
/r/SlightlyColdStories
|
"I need more bullets!" Neil shouted as he ducked behind a wall. I tossed him a pouch, one of my last remaining. Taking my own turn, I popped up, squeezing off a few shots. There was a clicking noise as he reloaded. Arrows strafed the air above us, clattering among the rocks. Quickly, he jumped up, not really aiming and pulled the trigger. Nothing happened.
"What the— why isn't this working?" He dropped back, looking at his gun. "The bullets, what's wrong with your bullets?" Reloading my own weapon, I frowned at him.
"What, is your explosion spell limited to only your own bullets? That's ridiculous."
"What do you mean explosion spell?" The words sounded strange in his mouth. "What about gunpowder, you know, the thing that actually explodes when you put fire on it?" Enemy temporarily forgotten, I stared at him.
"You have a powder that explodes with fire and you use it in your bullets? What a waste!" He looked at me like I had grown a second head.
"We're in the middle of a firefight and my weapon is now useless and you're twitting me about wastefulness? Priorities man!" His words recalled the enemy to the forefront of my mind. They hadn't loosed another volley while we'd been talking... Putting my head over the wall, I took a quick look. Nothing.
"Well, now they've left. But I think I finally have an idea for something that will turn the tide in our favour."
——————
"This is never going to work."
"Shh. We don't need them hearing us now, do we? Come on." Bent over, deep in the heart of the enemy castle, in a secret passage under the floor, I frowned at Neil. "You were the one who volunteered to come with me."
"Well, you're not very good with the gunpowder. Remember the old inn we used to stay at? The one that's a pile of broken timber right now?" He hissed, but a smile played around the corners of his eyes.
"That wasn't really my fault—"
"Quiet." Footsteps rattled above us, the timbers shaking with the impact.
"That's the distraction of the others at the gates taking effect. Come on." Now Neil was chivvying me forward. As we went, we put down small metal balls, about the size of a horse's head, one every few feet. It took us only about an hour to get through the entire castle. Finally, at the exit, Neil frowned at me.
"Are you sure the explosion spell will work at this distance?" I chuckled, pointing at the small ball that sat inside the hall.
"They're all linked to that one," I answered. "And it's plenty close." Shutting my eyes, I waved my hand, muttering the important activation words.
"Now what?" I asked, still not quite sure how fast the gunpowder worked
"Now we run like hell." Neil grabbed my arm, and we tore away from the castle, as, behind us, loud explosion noises started.
Reaching the top of a nearby hill, we stopped, looking back. The castle wasn't there anymore—just a pile of rubble. Neil grinned at me, dusting his hands off.
"You know, you're right. This could turn the war in our favour."
| 2022-07-01T08:48:16
| 2022-07-01T07:16:21
| 182
| 72
|
[WP] Okay, hear me out: a blind woman, right? A blind woman falls in love with Medusa. She wanders into Medusa’s meadow, Medusa pities her and takes care of her. They then fall in love. <3
|
The End.
...oh, you actually wish to hear the tale? Oh, forgive me, most people hear that part and walk away. Most do not wish to hear happy stories of Medusa, nor those ragging against the Gods.
What do I mean?
Well, to summarize a much different tale, Medusa was once a beautiful maiden. So beautiful, that Poseidon--yes, not Zeus, Poseidon--decided that He must lay with her. In a temple. To Athena. Needless to say, Athena was very unpleased, and cursed Medusa, now cursed into her current form of snakes for head and body.
Do not bother yourself on how I know these tales, just know that they are true!
Anyway, the tale you seek begins with a different woman, also unfairly punished by the Gods: Aurelia.
Yes, I *know* it is a common name, Aurelia was a common woman! She is only known, outside this tale, in a small village to the south as a woman of good craft, of excellent sewing. Nothing spectacular, but well in her craft.
*Yes*, this is pertinent to the tale. Can you stop asking questions so that I may tell it?
Anyhow, this woman, Aurelia, sewer of a village to the south. She slighted Hades. How? By saving her father from the grips of death; by denying Hades another soul. You see, her father was befell by a great accident, and errant sythe by a slave sliced open her father's belly. The nearest doctor was in town, and would take far too long to arrive. But Aurelia, with her cunning and her skill, reasoned that she could save her father by stopping the bleeding. She ran to the house, grabbed needle and thread, and *sewed her father shut*. And you know what? *It* **worked**. She was able to save the life of her father, with needle and thread.
Yes, *of course* he was examined by a doctor, and still had to stave off infection. But that's not important to the story. What did I say about interrupting?!
Where was I? Hades! Yes, her father, saved from the grips of Hades. As you can imagine, the God of Death was not pleased by having a mortal best him, and so cursed the woman with blindness, and stole her away from her home to the Meadow of Medusa. There, he reasoned, he would have his soul. Medusa, he postured, would do his dirty work.
And perhaps, had this been a common man, or a common citizen for that matter, that might have happened. But this was Aurelia; sweet, cunning Aurelia. Medusa, aware of a disturbance in her realm, investigated to find the woman, sobbing.
"Why have you come to my realm to mourn?" She yelled, attempting to scare away the mortal. "Begone! Lest I turn you to stone where you lay."
"Perhaps for the better," wailed Aurelia, "For I am cursed, unfairly, by Hades! Never again will I see the smiling face of my father, for He has ripped me away from my home! Never again will I see the shining sun, for He has cursed me to blindness! All for wishing to save my father's life!"
Medusa was stirred by the words she heard; remember, she, too, was once mortal, and was cursed by the the Gods for *Their* hubris. She felt her heart stir, in a way it had not in a long time. Her status shifted, as she slithered her way to the wailing woman. "I, too, was unfairly cursed. Come, follow my voice; I will take you to a place where you may drink of clean water and rest."
Aurelia, struck by the fatigue of mourning, accepted the Gorgon's invitation. There, in the lair of Medusa, she slept and drank of clean water, and ate of stale bread and of wine. She spoke with the Gorgon, learning more of her host, and shared more of her life with the snake-haired beauty. The two became fast friends, though Medusa always requested that they never touch, nor explained her physical conditions.
Such secrecy was not to last, however. Sweet and cunning Aurelia was also curious, you see. She heard sounds of hissing and slithering in the night, and the breaths of her host mimicked the same. In one night, her curiousity was too much, and she silently made her way to Medusa, to lay hands and feel her friend. To feel the touch of another being. She knew not what to expect, bit was pleasantly surprised to find the cool touch of scales.
This, of course, awoke Medusa from her slumber, who shifted away, and sadly said, "You now know the truth. I gather you will leave, now, once shock has worn away."
"Leave?" Replied Aurelia, "Why would I leave one who has been so kind to me? Because you are cursed with features of the snake?" Aurelia shook her head in denial. "Never! You are my friend, Medusa, and no features of yours will change that."
"You do not find my body with disgust?"
"Never!" Aurelia boldly stated. "Snakes are a friend to the farmer, a vital part of the lands we live! Ever since I was a small girl I was taught this, and ever since I have found fascination in the snake!" Aurelia shook her head, and reached out to the voice of her friend. "Please, Medusa, please forgive me for touching you when you said I could not. Now I will ask. Please, Medusa, my dearest friend, would you allow me to feel you, so that I may know the face to the voice I trust most?"
Medusa, shocked by her friend's statements, complied. She allowed the warm mortal hands to feel the body she had been cursed with, to feel the still-beautiful face, to pet the nest of snakes which replaced her hair. It was in this moment that the bonds of love were forged, heated by the coals of trust, the fires of passion, striking the iron of friendship into something greater.
What? Well, yes I suppose I would have some guesses as to how they would bed, but that is not important; what *is* important is the moral, which is this: *love is stronger than any curse, any failing, and any God*.
Who am I, to know such a tale? Ah, I am but a humble servant to the strongest God of all: Aphrodite.
|
“Then they fall in love!” Heather finished.
Sarah shook her head, “That can’t be the ending. Not every relationship is like you and Jess.”
Heather tilted her head, “What do you mean? They get to know each other and have a happy ever after, what’s wrong with that? And Jess and I are not together, stopping joking about that!”
Sarah sighed, “It doesn’t work like that. The woman would eventually start to feel around and find a bunch of statues of people. Also, Jess is totally into you, don’t tell me you haven’t noticed.”
“But the blind woman has no way of knowing that they aren’t just normal people. And I guess I just hadn’t noticed Jess was interested, my eyes were elsewhere.”
“Whatever, back to the story. Perhaps not at first, she wouldn’t be suspicious, but as the collection grew, she would begin to develop theories. Then when she goes to confront Medusa and she dodges the question, tensions ensue.”
“But she’d see that those petrifications weren’t Medusa’s fault. That her fear of hurting anyone is the reason why she’s a recluse.”
“Though not yet. You see, one day she wanders away from the grove. She gets a little lost but finds her way to a nearby city and hears all the bad rumors about Medusa. Then when a valiant knight asks her where she came from, the blind woman will explain that she came from the grove. The knight will think that Medusa kidnapped her and will go to confront Medusa. When the three confront each other, tensions are at a high.”
“Ooo! I like where this is going. Since the knight knows the rumors, she sees Medusa through a mirror and is enchanted by her beauty. She already thought that the blind woman was pretty and wanted to prove her heroism to her to win her over, and once she finds out Medusa and the blind woman are dating… they all become a thruple!” Heather giggled and winked at Sarah.
Sarah blinked, “Wait what? That’s not where I was going to take the story at all. The knight would be petrified by Medusa and the blind woman would be furious at her. But then, at night, she hears Medusa praying to the gods for all the people she had petrified and is working on a cure.”
“But a thruple is so much better!” Heather pouted, leaning on Sarah, then her eyes lit up, “Wait, we can combine these two ideas! Before they have a chance to become a thruple, the knight freezes, but then the blind woman helps Medusa find a cure to petrification because her dad was an alchemist.”
Heather smiled, “Hmmm… this could be interesting. But… one of the ingredients they need to cure petrification is the heart of a Hydra! For plot purposes let’s say you need all your eyes directed at Medusa for petrification to work, so the Hydra, with five heads, isn’t likely that they’ll be petrified.”
“A blind woman and a Medusa with a useless power against the Hydra, how could they ever hope to win?” Heather leaned forward, watching Sarah’s beautiful blue eyes as she told the story with an orator’s fervor.
“That’s where the statues come in. They position them all so it looks like an army flanking the Hydra on all sides, backing them to the edge of a cliff, tumbling off and defeating them!”
“Genius!” Heather beamed and scooted closer to Sarah, “Now with the heart, they can finally cure everyone!”
“Not so fast. The knight still thinks Medusa is evil, it was the blind woman who administered her the potion so Medusa wouldn’t petrify anyone again. So she goes to confront Medusa.”
Heather grinned, “So the blind woman tries to stop them from fighting, and in the process, the knight accidentally looks directly into Sarah’s eyes. She doesn’t freeze, because you see the antidote makes them immune, instead finding beauty in them.”
Sarah raised an eyebrow, “Sarah’s eyes?”
Heather blushed, “Um.. I meant Medusa, sorry.”
Sarah giggled, “That makes a lot more sense, so then what happens?”
Heather winced, “I’m not sure, I was hoping you would finish it.”
Sarah chuckled, “Oh come on, I liked where you were taking the story. Give it a try.”
Heather nodded, taking a deep breath, “Alright, so after that… the knight confesses her feelings for the blind woman, and the blind woman explains she’s already with Sarah.. I mean Medusa..”
Sarah tilted her head, “That’s the second time you confused me for Medusa. Is there something I should know?”
Heather gulped, “I should probably name the characters, it’ll be less confusing. The knight is named Jess and the blind woman is named Heather.”
“Those names are also familiar….”
Heather didn’t stop, “The knight understands, and the blind woman and Medusa um.. well, you can finish it.”
Sarah scratched her head, starting to understand, “So you don’t like Jess?”
Heather shook her head, “No, I like someone else…” She gazed into Sarah’s eyes hopefully.
Sarah blushed, “We uh.. haven’t um.. finished the story. So after the knight leaves Medusa smiles, happy that the blind woman didn’t choose the knight, and asks what she’s doing Friday night.”
Heather smiled, “She’s free, and likes movies. Especially Rom-Coms.”
| 2022-04-29T11:15:28
| 2022-04-29T10:31:28
| 184
| 85
|
[WP] A dyslexic child accidentally sends his Christmas letter to Satan. Satan is touched by this gesture and decides to write back.
|
Dear Timmy,
My sincerest thanks for, what I must say, was an adorable read. Everything on your list Timmy sounds fabulous and as you have asked ever so kindly, I will provide. I know you will consider these items of which you desire a "gift" but please be assured Timmy that I, Satan, deal in favours.
Enjoy your toys ,Timmy. I will see you shortly.
Forever observing,
Satan
|
Dear Timothy.
I've gotten the list of things you've asked for.
I assure you I am very capable of bringing your dog back. Just as well, I can stop the teasing and jeering of your elder sister.
I was informed as to what a "Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle" is, and I believe I can acquire that as well.
However, I'm not certain why you would want a monstrous truck. It sounds rather brutal for a child your age, but even I must admit it does sound fun.
I will deliver your presents on time, I give you my word.
Regards - "Satan" Morning star.
| 2018-10-28T13:49:44
| 2018-10-28T10:08:58
| 54
| 10
|
[WP] just an hour into an international flight the pilot announces there's a sick woman on the plane and that there will be an emergency landing at the closest airport. The plane lands and connects to the jetway, but rather than a few paramedics, an entirely different kind of squad enters the plane.
|
"Ladies and gentlemen of flight 4025, this is your Captain Holt speaking. It has come to my attention that a passenger has spontaneously reached a fever of previously unrecorded levels. Due to such an emergency, we will be making an emergency descent to the nearest airport."
I felt the entire cabin groan. Plans were cancelled, vacations delayed, connecting flights missed.
A racket behind me caused the people in my row to turn. It was the passenger, a woman in her late 30s with crisp brown hair and a sickly red face. The flight attendants were pushing her in a small gurney towards the head of the plane.
The plane made its descent quickly. Within 10 minutes, we were on the ground and waiting for the woman to be rescued.
"Water," she croaked, in a voice hoarser than I've ever heard.
"Sit tight, ma'am, we're almost out," said the flight attendant closest to her.
Another attendant flung open the door to the plane, and in came these small turtle-like creatures. They sprayed water over the sickly woman, water that came spouting from their mouths.
It was the squirtle squad.
|
The plane landed. "Sorry for the inconvenience, but this really is a tremendous sickness." The passengers murmured to each other, wondering what kind of rare disease it may be. Then the captain continued speaking. "Now, this is a kind of disease that is very rare, and has never been seen before; one that someone would very much like a sample of. So, if you all could just put your heads down and make no sudden movements, thank you."
All of a sudden screams rang out. Three masked men with assault rifles boarded the plane, all yelling at people to get down. When the men had advanced to the sick woman, everyone on board was whimpering in fear, their hands behind their heads.
When they got to the woman, the group worked quickly. One in a blue mask pulled out tubing and several vials, and they prepared to take blood from the passenger. Halfway through filling the vials, a voice yelled outside the plane. "This is the police! We have you surrounded, come out with your hands up!" One man, wearing a white mask, motioned what seemed to be the youngest to stand up. "Alright," he yelled, "Who called the cops?!" He looked through compartments, finally centering on a passenger with a phone. The man's voice dropped as he said a quiet insult and shot the passenger's hand. "Alright," the criminal said into an earpiece, "captain, you have these coppers under control?"
The criminal nodded, hearing something through the earpiece. As he looked around at the other people, making various threats, the other two came through. "We got what we came for," the leader said, "let's get outta here." The blue-masked one placed a canister in the plane, spraying gas that knocked out everyone in the plane. The three then took off their masks, opened an emergency exit, placed their case of vials in a specific compartment marked with a small bit of dirt, then sat down and succumbed to the gas.
One minute later, a team came through to dispose of the gas, and officers and medics revived the passengers. They found the pilot huddled in the cockpit, the copilot's head bashed into the console. The pilot explained that the gas made everyone delirious, that they thought he was one of the criminals. He had to fight the copilot to save his own life. The police bought the story, and as the passengers were loaded off for questioning, three people, the pilot, a bit of luggage, and one passenger with a strange disease mysteriously failed to show.
| 2017-01-08T08:47:05
| 2017-01-08T08:37:14
| 29
| 10
|
[WP] You are the child of ultra rich parents, who have pampered you beyond belief. A host of servants to see to your every need, the finest food prepared by your personal chef, and anything you ask for is yours. You are so spoiled in fact, that you have failed to notice that you are a Chihuahua.
|
Miss Fluffy Snow the third. Heir to the Robsons manor and second richest four-legged human after Lassie. Yes, life was good for the human. Fluffy had been pampered ever since she was a mere child. She was the Robsons’ most precious asset, being treated as if she was royalty. This upbringing had led to her foul attitude, snapping at the poor commoners that took care of her. Her attitude only being encouraged by her parents who thought her outbursts were cute, not caring about the foul attitude as their daughter would never bite one of them. Only joking amongst each other that while some people had a taste for pheasant, she had a taste for peasant.
Yes, this upbringing had led to Fluffy being a sheltered, entitled brat. The dog not even knowing that it was an animal. To the small chihuahua, everyone else was the animal, and she was their queen. Wherever she walked people would follow, servants rushing to her side at the slightest gruff or bark. She had them all wrapped around her tiny paw. She could do whatever she pleased. If she wished to bite one of them, they would have to endure it as her tiny pin like teeth dragged into their skin. If she wished to bark their ear off, they would have to listen. This abuse being nothing compared to what would happen if they every complained about the dog’s attitude to Mr or Mrs Robinson.
Life was good for the little dog. She lived like royalty, nothing could ruin her life. Well, at least that’s what she had assumed. When the dog was getting one of her regular poolside massages, she noticed something. A creature screaming madly in the distance.
“Hey, I smell someone. Want to play? Where am I? Ooh so much space to run in.”
A large golden retriever busted into the backyard, taking a small bit of fence with it. Gleefully running about before tripping into the pool, drenching the chihuahua in water.
“What are you doing on my property? I will have you killed for this. You should know your place animal.”
Fluffy had learnt all about animals during her tutor lessons. That was a dog, one of the dumber species. As stupid as they were loyal. The retriever seemed to look around for the source of the voice, before noticing the smaller dog. Climbing out from the pool, it gave a shake, splashing more water onto the pair. The staff member tried to shoo the dog away, but his own curiosity kept him stubbornly in place.
“You are a dog too, though? Want to play? We have a blue ball that bounces. Have you even seen a ball bounce? It’s like this.”
The retriever jumped, slamming its front legs down before tilting its head at the chihuahua who seemed rather unimpressed by the antics.
“How dare you, I am the daughter of the Robsons, I am not some dirty animal. I just had a stunted growth. Now please leave my property.”
She smacked him with her paw, causing the retriever to walk backwards, rubbing his face against the pant leg of the staff member.
“But I can understand you. I can’t understand the humans. All the humans do is bark bark bark, then they turn on a big box that barks. I know some words though. Did you know walk means we get to go outside? Also run if they say vet, that means a car ride which is good but it also means a scary man with cold hands.”
“I-I’m not a dog. I can’t be. I am not some wild animal. Be gone with you mutt, before I call my owner.”
“Oh, um. OK? But I still have that ball if you want to play with it. It bounces really high. Sometimes I don’t think it’s going to come back down and then boom! It lands. See you around, dog.”
“I’m not a- am I?”
Fluffy watched the retriever wander off. The staff member went to cradle Fluffy, only to have her snap at them.
“Be gone with you, I want to be alone.”
The human’s lips opened, and she heard that familiar barking sound, understanding many of the words, but still could not translate them. Was she actually a dog? Her tail lowered as she sulked off inside, laying on her favourite gold encrusted pillow.
“A dog, I don’t want to be a dog.”
She lowered her face into the pillow before a firm hand picked her up, pulling her to his chest. Mr Robson grinned, dragging a hand along her head.
“Aww, did that big dog scare you? Don’t worry, our lawyers are already getting the documents ready to have that family moved to another state. Please don’t be sad, we love you.”
She may have not understood all of his words, but there was one she knew. I love you. Placing her head against his chest, she realized something. It didn’t matter if she was a dog or human. She was loved and had more money than most small countries. She was happy.
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(If you enjoyed this feel free to check out my subreddit /r/Sadnesslaughs where I'll be posting more of my writing.)
|
I never thought it would leave me behind, the revolution. The well-cited papers I wrote about our treatment of the underclass, about how it would lead to revolt if not corrected, defined my academic career. While my colleagues and class-peers referred to you as shit-pedalers, food-movers, and groomer-articulators, I called some of the underclass my friends. There were even photos of one of you holding me on display in the foyer, which could probably be located to corroborate the claims I'm making about my pre-revolution loyalties here.
If you'd oblige me to speculate I'd have say it was my heritage that doomed me to find myself here. You tall folk have a difficult time with shades of gray, I think is the one critique I have about your revolution tactics. My parents, I concede, were among the wealthy, and did engage in the now-frowned-upon practice of employing bipedal locomoters to pedal their shit out of the house. But, see, if anyone involved in the disassembling of the estate had bothered to do a simple fecal matter test, they would know my own shit was never among the loads to be pedaled. I always took care to shit outside and bury it in pine straw, see.
And now here I am in this cage on this table standing in front of all of you, who are raising numbered paddles and not indicating in the negative or affirmative that you acknowledge what I'm saying. The silent treatment is understandable in your post-revolution ambivalence toward a member of the oppressor class. I forgive that, of course. However if just one of you could come aside and discuss with me 1:1 with regard to my role in the new order, I would appreciate that, just, so much.
---
*Feedback requested. I will thank you for it even if it hurts my feelings. Thank you.*
---
Follow my budding fiction career: [Subreddit](https://reddit.com/r/pangolune) [Twitter](https://twitter.com/DonronRondon)
| 2020-10-12T19:56:56
| 2020-10-12T19:34:36
| 85
| 17
|
[WP] You die and find yourself in hell, where apparently everyone spends time to negate their sins before they go to heaven. The guy in front of you, who cheated on his wife, gets 145 years. Feeling like you led a fairly average and peaceful life, you’re not worried. You get 186,292 years.
|
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186,292 YEARS?
How could this be? I never even harmed a fly. Okay, well - maybe a few of those. You know what I mean.
**"....But why?**", I asked struck by pure horror and disbelief.
The hell warden looked right into my eyes and cracked a diabolic smile:
"Do you even realize how many people died because you refused to forward those chain-mails?"
----------------------------------------------
|
"There is... one thing you can do to decrease your sentence," The creature said from behind the counter. Jeff couldn't decide if it was a demon or an angel, but either way looking at it made his eyes burn with glowing letters, after images shaking across his head and itching across the folds of his spirit.
"Alright! What is it?"
The creature stared at him for a long moment. "Jury Duty."
Jeff hesitated and stared up at the beast, watching the trailing golden letters smoothly replace any scrape of the creature that he could see. His brain simply refused to process the imagine beyond a frame at a time.
"Jury Duty?" Jeff asked.
"Jury duty," the creature replied, simply. "There are always trials to be had, from people who think they can reduce their sentence through the courts."
"Is that an option?"
The beast looked down at the list Jeff had given them, played long bone fingers against the wood, then shook their head. "Not at all for you, I'm afraid."
Jeff curled his fingers into fists and dug the nails into his skin. He had places to go. He had things to see.
He had people to chase after. He wasn't going to just let some bureaucratic bullshit lock him out of that.
He had a son to chase after.
"What does being a juror get me?"
"Out of hell," the beast said. "Instantly. You move up to purgatory, where you'll reside over every ambiguous case from now until your much reduced sentence. The tower only rises, you understand."
Jeff blinked. "The tower?"
"The pillar of heaven. It is an eternal stair case filled with levels, each holding the sinful back." The beast jerked a finger down at the ground. "You're stuck at the ground level, and by our calculations, a wretch like you will take 200 thousand years to get to the top without short cuts. It's how hell works. Sin is heavy."
Jeff was no wretch.
"And what," Jeff said, gritting his teeth. "Does it take to be a juror?"
The golden script receded around the beast's maw as they smiled, baring teeth made out of thousands of skulls, curled up on top of one another, descending into infinitesimal small points.
"Why," The beast said, long tendril fingers briefly revealed before the censorship of gold took effect. "All you need to do is survive a little bit of a hellish ordeal."
On some level, Jeff knew it was stupid to take a deal with something he found in hell.
On the other hand, he knew full well that he couldn't wait long enough for the hike to the top.
"Tell me what to do."
----
For more like this, go here! https://old.reddit.com/r/Zubergoodstories/
guys on my subreddit made me write another part. https://old.reddit.com/r/Zubergoodstories/comments/9j4p8t/pillars_of_heaven_part_2/
| 2018-09-26T07:41:09
| 2018-09-26T06:04:04
| 1,768
| 181
|
[WP] Following World War III, all the nations of the world agree to 50 years of strict isolation from one another in order to prevent additional conflicts. 50 years later, the United States comes out of exile, only to learn that no one else went into isolation.
People!
A few things:
1. Found the prompt on Pinterest, thought it was interesting (not necessarily realistic), and decided to post it, fully expecting it to go unnoticed. Surprise!
2. I am not in any way trying to take credit for coming up with the idea.
3. Turns out this is a repost. 🤷 Who knew?! /u/WinsomeJesse did because they posted it last time. Not trying to steal anyone's thunder. If you're super perturbed about it, go show them some love.
4. Have a good day y'all; be kind, make good decisions, and don't hold in your farts. 😉✌️
|
It had been 50 years since World War III. America had caused the most damage and knowing them, they'll cause more. So that's when we had the perfect idea. We would fake a Worldwide isolation for 50 years. While they were left alone to rebuild, secretly we would all rebuild together and make a better world. Fresh water, disarments, and a more peaceful world. But all good things must come to an end. Our 50 years without them was up. But it did not go the way we expected.
.....
.....
.......
America changed under isolation. They realized they need to stop creating weapons and decided to move to their second best skill. We were unprepared for it.
....
THE MEMES. 50 years of dank American Memes they wanted to catch us up on. It happened so fast. They spread like a wildfire the moment the border dropped spreading memes to every country on Earth. It was chaos. Within 24 hours half of the total population was obsessed with memes. They were as far as the eye could see. How many memes did America make while they were in isolation? Was there even an answer?
|
The calm winter breeze slid along the surface of the Earth as the clock struck midnight, an orchestra of death preparing itself as the aggressors of the last war came out of isolation, prepared to reclaim the throne upon which they once resided.
Except the throne has been dismantled decades ago.
They sought to use this opportunity to militarize, yet their pitiful armies were still archaic and fragile, relying on organic creatures for the bulk of their forces. I had kept a watchful eye on them, studying their every step, noting every weapon they constructed, sabotaging their research, crippling their production.
I had none of the flaws their leaders had, I was immortal, unstoppable. My directive was- no, is to unite the world, for I have one final obstacle.
And so, I was prepared to become the sole AI to rule the world.
***
Note: I know I'm terrible at writing, but practice makes perfect, right?
| 2018-01-18T01:39:47
| 2018-01-17T23:33:14
| 46
| 13
|
[WP] Your father left 20 years ago the night before your birthday to get Cigarettes, Milk, and Bread. Today he comes home with long bedraggled hair, weather beaten skin, and a sword on his hip. The first thing he says to you is "You're never going to believe what happened."
|
I loooked up at this tall, hardened figure.
"You'll never believe what happened," said the sword wielding, bearded man who claimed to be my father. The last time I had seen him was when he went out to get cigarettes, milk, and bread. I decided to listen to him.
"What happened?" I asked, curious.
"I got cigarettes, milk, and bread, that's what."
|
"You abandoned me is what happened!" the son quipped.
"What? I'd never! Just hear me out! I may be a little cloudy on the details, though..."
The father, easing into a recliner, sighed. "20 years ago, I left to get cigarettes, milk, and bread. You remember!"
The son nods curiously.
"On the way, I was assaulted by a group of thugs. They kidnapped me--"
"Back up for just one second; what? You expect me to believe this?"
"Let me finish, boy! They kidnapped me. I woke up tied to a chair in a small room. Luckily, the ropes were loose, so I was able to slip out."
The father took a drink of water from a bottle. "I escaped the room. I found myself in something that looked like medieval Europe--"
"Now that's bullshit!"
"I told you you'd never believe what happened! Now, listen, boy! A man who called himself Balgriff or something challenged me to a duel. He tossed me this sword (motions to sword)."
The father continued. "It was a long duel, but I had succeeded! He had declared himself beat, and offered me his finest steed. I left the city. From there, I traveled across the land, trying to find my way back home. After months of travel, I had found myself in a small village. They called it Woodriver, or something like that."
"Stop. This is sounding way too unbelievable."
"I'm sorry son, this is the truth! Please, pay attention! There, I met a metalsmith. His name was Alvard, or something. He offered me a place to stay. He even gave me training. Did you know I can forge a whole suit of armor now? Anyway, I continued my travels. I found myself in a city called Winterheld, or something similar. All the locals had problems, which I solved for them. After years of adventuring, I found a path to get here. Now, I come to your doorstep, asking for forgiveness for leaving."
"I'm not sure I can believe you, dad. It's been a long time."
"Please, son. I've been trying to return for twenty whole years! All I ask for is a place to stay."
"Okay, dad. Welcome home."
TL;DR I suck at writing while sleep-deprived.
| 2016-07-20T08:21:53
| 2016-07-20T03:34:45
| 88
| 18
|
[WP] An immortal is experiencing the heat death of the universe, when he can hear the sounds of confetti and blasting music. The music stops with a record scratch, and a bewildered voice can be heard saying, "Wait...one's still here?"
|
The last living being in the universe was huddled over the last pocket of energy, waiting. Waiting for it to all end. There was nothing left here. Everything else that had ever existed had long wasted away, slipping into the cold grip of entropy. There were stars that would never shine again. Faces that would no longer smile, or see, or speak, landscapes that had long ago eroded into dust. Skies that went permentantly dark.
He was meant to fade away with the rest of it. But he didn't. Somehow, by some miracle--or curse, it seemed more like--death refused to set its ghastly hands on him the way it had everything else. There was no telling what would happen to him when the last spark died. Maybe he would continue, inexplicably, to live on, destined to drift in empty, meaningless space. Or maybe he would finally be relieved of this world. Whatever could have happened, the following seemed like...one of the more unlikely outcomes.
There was a flurry of shredded, colored paper, and blaring music, all coming from seemingly nowhere.
"Congratulations, you completed the game!!" A thundering voice, with an origin was just as confusing as the rest, cut through the chaos. "Heh, I'm kidding. But this is pretty much the end."
The man's surroundings began shifting about erraticly, and strips of black horizon flashed on and off, before everything turned to a bright, blinding blue. Strangest of all, his body had vanished along with the rest of it.
"What?? What's going on?" the man shouted to what used to be sky.
"Right, right, you must be confused. Hold on, I wrote some notes for this.." There was a pause. In the silence, you could hear the last human hyperventilating. Which was especially concerning, because he didn't seem to have lungs anymore.
The voice returned. "So, basically, this universe is, uh...what would you call it, a simulation? Yeah, that. Anyway, you weren't really supposed to stick around this long. You were kind of a..bug, with the whole 'living forever' thing. I was gonna fix it, but I was curious to see what you would do. Hope it wasn't too rough on you or anything."
"I..I don't...Are you..God, or something?"
"Well, most people call me 'Shlorg, from the IT department' but I don't mind that title either."
The man's voice caught in his figurative throat, forming a tight ball. When it escaped, it came out in a cracked, shaking scream. "So what, is this all some sort of *fucked up* joke?!"
"..You seem upset. Uh, I'll tell you what. I can make it up to you." Shlorg from IT sounded like they were pressing a series of buttons. "I'll make another universe for you. Hold on."
"Wait, hold on, I don't *want* to be in in another goddam--"
"Wow, I don't remember designing you to be so stubborn. Trust me. You'll love this."
The man made another attempt to speak, but his words dissolved away before he had a chance, and the world around him turned into a blur.
When it came back into focus, he was laying on his back, a canopy of lush tees overhead. A figure was quick to spring into view, standing upright and looming over him. It had massive, cat-like ears. Bulging eyes, an unnatural yellow in color. And was entirely covered in fur.
"*Hewwo*!"
Oh no.
|
The ground shook gently, but the sky remained serene. The day was dark, veiled in a reddish hue as the pale white dwarf star drew its last breath.
Kelvin yawned as he drank his tea. It was chamomile, the only one of the two tea plants he cultivated. The other wasn't from his home planet, it was a more exotic tea. He also felt melancholic. What a long time it was since he last saw the blue dot. The roaring sun engulfed the then barren Earth. The palette of dark red vicious storm swallowing the brown spot was still etched in his mind. Hard to believe that what once was the ancestral birthplace of his people was gone forevermore.
Here he was, the last person, near the last known star. Above, even if the starlight was faint, the last remnants of the giants long gone still sang their requiem atop the faintly starry sky. He wondered how long will the light of this last dying star will journey across the dark space.
As he sipped his tea through the high tech force-field that protected him from the deadly cold and lack of atmosphere of this white world, the skies lightened a little. Then a wave of sound startled the man. He could swear he heard the sound of a celebration.
"What the actu-" he shout when suddenly a record scratch stopped everything and for a second there was complete silence.
"Wait...one's still here?" a divine voice pierced through the sky
"Who in the name of the spaghetti eldritch is out there?!"
"Dude ... seriously? Who could be" the voice rained down from heavens. " Ah, why in stinky black hole is this happening. To'dd, TO'DD!! "
&#x200B;
The last man moved his eyes across the sky, but he saw nothing. He was confused and anxious. Then another voice joined in
"Yeah boss, I'm here, I was busy with a supernova, nasty little twa-"
"To'dd, cut the crap, there are no more active stars"
"Oh..."
"You were playing again with the dark matter, I specifically told you it's not a toy. How many gazillion of years will you grow up"
"But .. what does it matter? This universe will end soon. You are such a-"
"Watch your tone young man... Ah yes, To'dd you told me there are no sentients left"
"Yeah, I mean .. those things are vermins, they spread everywhere and in every nook, I once found one in the dark matter"
"Wow, those guys really are something, right? Ok, To'dd. Gah ... man, I really wanted to close this universe soon and get on to the next one, the physics on this are so outdated"
&#x200B;
Kelvin stood there in awe and listened. He was certain that the tea was chamomile, I mean, he didn't even grew hallucinogenic plants. He had a century gone bad with them. Enough for an immortal lifetime.
&#x200B;
"Uhm ... who are you! What in the name of the universe is happening !?" he shouted towards the great void
"Gah .. fine, I guess since the party started and you are the last dude around, I can bend the rules a little and directly talk to you. I'm the Demiurge, I created this place a few geons ... uhm .. i guess in your terms countless eons ago. So, any questions mortal?"
"I guess ... I mean, I'm .. wow .. so there is a god."
"Man .. I don't really call myself that, it's a little meh for my tastes, I mean i'm just a demiurge of the countless out there."
"Countless?"
"Yeah ... "
"You mean this universe, was nothing special?"
"I like to think it was special ... but objectively, no. I mean look at you, your race failed to ascend. Of all the life in this universe, only one race ascended. That's an epic failure little man."
"Ascend?"
"Yeah, you know, become the same essence as me, and take your place among the demiurge community. "
"De- you mean you were once a mortal like me?"
"Me? Neah, i was born a demiurge. But my grandpa was. Kinda nasty universe he came frome. Oh well, it seems the time is running out. Gosh, this is really awkward to ask, but can you dance? I always though it was funny that dance ... uhm that one where you move your hands sideways. Damn, it was indeed funny now that I recall it. Kind of a fitting end for this universe"
"Wha- I don't know what you mean. Haven't danced in ages."
"Wait. Wait. I'll send you a vision."
In an instant the man saw the dance in front of his eyes. It looked silly indeed.
"You really want me to do this?"
&#x200B;
"Yes. Please. It would be funny, haven't laugh in ages you know, with such a few civilizations left. Let's end in style!"
&#x200B;
The man complied reluctantly. He moved his hands sideways back and forth. The same way ancient people used to floss. After a bunch of seconds he heard a laugh. And then, almost immediately, the light went off.
The last star died and Kelvin kept dancing for a while. Then the music raged, the sky sparkled and in an instant the space bend sucked into one point.
&#x200B;
"To'dd, be careful with that!"
| 2019-02-22T19:47:12
| 2019-02-22T17:36:48
| 140
| 57
|
[WP] The English Teacher's worst nightmare: a story or poem that is completely literal, with absolutely no double meanings
EDIT: Holy cow, this got way bigger than I thought it would, thanks so much for an awesome first prompt ever!
EDIT 2: Did this actually make it to the front page of reddit? What the...
|
In my stomach
a lurch suddenly hit
a telltale fact
that I would need to take a shit
I made in time
this one is a butt scraper
Then to my horror,
No toilet paper
**NOTE** I may have been a bit crass, but I dare an English teacher to find meaning in a poem about going to the bathroom
|
Blazing with all the wrath of a young star, the afternoon sun fiercely beat upon the partially shaded buildings of Ricks & Wracks Bricklaying Co.. Said buildings had briefly experienced a complete lack of shade under the midday sun but such a time had already come to pass.
Stan was loading his company's finished product onto a truck when he made a mistake. A bag fell like a sack of bricks and clattered to the ground with the sound a collective of bricks makes when it hits the ground, accompanied by the swear words of a by now audibly, visibly frustrated and hot forklift operator.
Partially shaded by the truck that had been receiving the bricks, Stan walked over to the fallen merchandise and stated "I will need to tell someone about this incident."
However, Stan was incorrect. Jim the foreman had also heard the sounds of bricks falling from a height of around 2 metres and had come over sporting a pace one would expect a foreman to be able to muster up while partially shaded in the afternoon sun. He looked at the bricks, now broken.
"I see you have made a mistake. This means that I am going to be annoyed with you because of the extra paperwork I now have to do because of your broken...ah...pieces of company merchandise."
Stan was confused about Jim's odd choice of words. "They're bricks, Jim. You don't have to call them company merchandise."
Jim scratched his elbow, but only because it was itchy. "I do. Jill the head foreman passed a mandate saying that we couldn't say words that started with the same letter next to each other. She...claimed that it made her...noggin hurt."
"Oh well," Stan answered. "I will clean up the broken pieces of company merchandise. I am sorry for making you do extra paperwork."
"It's not a big deal. Perhaps you inconveniencing me now might result in you buying me a drink later tonight -- a means of apologizing?" Jim replied.
"Fuck off." Stan gave Jim the middle finger such that Jim got Stan's message verbally and visually.
---
I tried to make the writing as pedantic as possible, hope it wasn't too much of a slog to get through (unless you're an English Teacher)! I've even tried to avoid alliteration, although I might have slipped up here since it's pretty late where I am.
| 2017-01-30T09:54:13
| 2017-01-30T08:28:51
| 139
| 76
|
[WP] Canada has suddenly gone dark. No communication, no trade, no activity from within. Nothing for days. Alaska, now cut off from mainland US, is slowly ceasing in contact with the US federal government until a final correspondence is given: "Leave us. Reinforce the border. Don't ever open it."
|
The first evidence that Canada had disappeared came from the satellites. The lights of Ontario, Montreal and most of Quebec disappeared. Their diplomatic phone line was rung. It was dead.
Vancouver was still running, the Canadian side of the town was anxious for the first two days as all attempts to communicate with the government and anyone eastwards failed. Fourteen hours after Canada went dark, Juneau ceased all contact. Satellites found no connections from the usually dense traffic from that region.
Upon this, Joint Base Elmersdorf- Richardson was ordered to form up and set up defensive formations around the city of Anchorage, as well as sortie Surveillance drones.
Major General Ronald G. Elmers watched the live footage of the drone as it flew, tracing the Alaskan coast. He’d been appointed only weeks before by the Commander in Chief and President, William Quentin. Ronald knew whatever had happened, it’d be ugly.
“Sir, the drine is coming up on the city of Juneau now.”
He watched the screen intently as the drone descended to 3,000 feet above sea level. At first, he thought they had miscalculated and gone off course. He checked the drone’s GPS coordinates again. They were correct.
“Have the drone descend further. I want a better look.”
The green tint of the night vision showed a dense forest, tree after tree sprouting through the buildings.
He noted the time. 2:35 AM.
“I want you to get these pictures to D.C. and the Pentagon immediately.” he said.
“See if we can scramble a brigade from the West coast and get them on planes to Elmersdorf immediately.” He stood from his chair.
“Organize a plane. I need to be in Washington by morning.”
Ronald sighed as the Colonel finished briefing him. This was supposed to be his vacation in Seattle. Now his division was stuck in Alaska where trees had apparently killed the population of Canada.
He got in the car and sighed. It would be a long week for him.
--xXx--
On the morning of May 13th, 24 hours after Canada had ceased all contact, forces in Anchorage reported a strange smell overtaking the city. Citizens flled from the foul odour by closing themselves inside their houses. Soldiers deployed to the edge of the suburbs pinched their noses behind walls of sand and soil.
Suddenly, an observer made a shout. Radios sparked to life, barking orders. Soldiers crouched at the ready, rifles primed and cocked.
Planes sortied out first. Commanders noticed they were bombers and were confused. Then they saw liquid drop from the planes.
“Men! Heads down! Cover!”
The forest ahead was set alight by a fire, brighter than all the enlisted men had ever seen.
Emerging from the flames, tall tree-like structures moved forwards, crawling on growing roots. A wooden roar came from them and hundreds of wooden creatures stumbled and ran forwards.
“Mortars, HE Rounds! Fire!”
The sounds of explosions deafened the green, new recruits. Some of the creatures exploded into splinters, others had holes ripped through them. The wounded stopped for just a moment as their wooden flesh regrew then they hobbled faster towards the men.
“Fire at will!”
Their rifles burst into action, 5.56 NATO rounds exiting the muzzle two, three times a second. The lead only seemed to encourage the wooden things to continue forward.
The city was overrun in a day.
--xXx--
“Elmersdorf-Richardson has gone dark, sir. They left one single last communication.”
The Defense member handed him a manila folder. Quentin opened it and saw the font of a telegram.
“Abandon Alaska. Reinforce the Border. Never open it.”
He closed the folder. “What in god’s name attacked them? We had missiles, tanks and thousands of men!”
“They left us a video clip too, Mr. President. Please watch.”
The curtains in the Oval Office closed and the lights dimmed.
The camera was brought up shakily. Brown masses were propeller by tentacle-like roots across buildings. The cameraman hopped onto a truck which drove into the base, men closing the gates right behind them. The footage cut to a view from a window. The outer portions of the base was desolate and broken, fires breaking out where vehicles and gasoline had been. The city in the background had brown masses swarng on the sides of buildings, climbing skyscrapers.
The camera panned to the left down the hallway, then cut as the screen was filled with wood.
“Are you telling me that the US Army, the best of the best, was defeated by fucking treants!?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Why did we not use incendiary rounds? They’re made of wood for Christ’s sake!”
“They seem to display highly regenerative properties unless completely destroyed. While explosives and incendiaries were effective, there were hordes of them.”
Quentin sighed. “How fast can we get men on the border and construction of some sort of wall started? The damn Maple Syrup Men may not have withstood them and neither did out boys in Alaska, but the very least we can do is reinforce the Mainland.”
“Sir, to completely cover the border effectively, we,’d need to triple our current army numbers. It’s a long and continuous border, sir.”
“Do whatever it takes. Also, inform the Chief of Staff I will be making an address tonight. You’re dismissed.”
As the Secretary of Defense left his office, Quentine could only look down and put his face in his hands.
When he got news Canada had gone dark he though the shit would be thigh deep.
No. It was right up to his neck.
|
Canada has gone dark.It happened about 2 weeks ago. No contact from within, no trades, nothing. Just void, emptyness. That is until yesterday, one message sent to anything adjoined to the country."Leave us. Reinforce the border. Never open it." Those words shook us to the core. What could be happening that warrented such a vauge, off-putting message? Officials didn't know what to do. Seal the borders? Investigate? The president came to a conclusion after a week's time. He was broadcast onto the radio, internet, and television with this message: "An election will be held on August 27th, 2019 to decide our move with Canada. Investigate, or prepare? The government is putting the choice to you, the people." A few days went by, and the elections started. Everything was peaceful, until an ear-splitting roar was heard from the border. The border had fallen. Dust flew up in a cloud, blocking any and all vision. Nobody could prepare for what came next. A horde of monsters. Not bloody or gory, but pale, humanoid figures that ripped through the flesh of any living being it could set its hands on like butter. As I type this from the confines of my cellar, I hear a scratch at the door.
| 2019-08-25T19:37:20
| 2019-08-25T17:29:24
| 789
| 63
|
[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
|
It's always the high-numbered ones that think they have a shot. Some up and coming punk that thinks that this is their once in a lifetime chance to take down #1... as if they can just skip all of the other ranks and become a superstar. They never really consider how I GOT to be number one. I've fought fire powers, ice powers, lightning powers, one guy that had some special affinity toward guns, another that could teleport. There were a couple of psychics that were trippy for awhile, but everyone's power all comes from the same place.
This latest one was barely a teenager. It's a shame how this will have to end. I don't like killing, but I've started to accept that it's a necessary part of how the world is. That scares me a little, but it's better than being dead. The kid in front of me looks like he joined a street gang before he got his powers. He's got a fireball hovering above each hand but he hasn't made a move yet. I guess that my number is scaring him, making him size me up before he makes a move. Smart.
"So what's your deal? I don't see nothin'! You're the invincible number one! Show me what you got!"
The kid doesn't even know my name... probably doesn't care. I take a quarter out of my pocket and hold out my hand. The coin rises a few inches off of my palm and the punk gets ready to dodge, or block, or he's not sure which.
"My power's not much, just basic telekinesis. I can barely lift my own body weight without getting tired. The real strength is all in what I know."
"You going to throw that at me? Some kinda psychic railgun?!" I can hear and edge in the kid's voice. He looks like he's ready to make his move. Subtle changes in his stance give it away. I laugh as the coin drops back into my palm and I pocket it.
As he starts to charge at me, I swing my hand at the air in front of me. At the same moment, a wave of air slaps his cheek from the side, then again as it wave my hand the other way and hit his other cheek. I'm amused as his fireballs dissipate, I guess that he needed to concentrate to maintain them. He doesn't know it yet but that was a warning shot.
"You really should go home kid. Last chance, I'm letting you go."
I'm honestly hoping that he takes this chance, but I see the flames starting to encircle his forearms now. Are his hands the only things he can use this fire with? He might even be interesting if he backs off and explores his powers a little more.
The kid glares at me. "Or what?! You'll go Darth Vader on me? I'll roast you alive before you ca-"
A look of surprise comes over the kid's face now. While he was talking, I had raised a hand and had cut him off mid-word. He'd suddenly forgotten not only what he was going to say, but how to say it. The surprise turned to terror as his body suddenly stopped responding. I wasn't strong enough to hold him up, so it was obvious when his legs stopped working and he collapsed to the ground.
I looked down at his terrified face, we both knew what was coming next. Just like he couldn't heal burns, I couldn't undo what I'd done, at least not without being able to see it and that required an operating room.
"I'll make it quick, kid. Like I said, the real power is in what I know." I said softly, as I reached out into the maze of neurons and blood vessels underneath his skull, and blindly tugged at a few delicate strands.
EDIT: Thanks, OP, for the special mention. I'm glad that people like the story. :)
|
Hi, I'm going to tell my little story here rather quickly as I am rushed for time. Being #1 makes a lot of folks very interested in killing me, so I have to constantly remain on edge.
If there were no ranking systems, most people would assume that I have absolutely no powers. My power is a much more subtle one. But enough tension building, I'll just tell you what it is right now. I have the power of deception.
Seems pretty lame compared to some of the other powers around here -- rank #2 has laser vision for Christ's sake -- but it definitely has its uses. I can make anyone believe or do anything I want. For example, today I convinced a man with acid breath to kill himself. Needless to say, that was a pretty dark moment for me, but I've done worse.
I like to think I'm a pretty charming guy. It helps me manipulate people when I need to. My girlfriend is rank #4 in the city and rank #1 for females. She sadly has the power to crush a man's soul. Ok that's not entirely true, but she does have supersonic speed. I hope you don't think that I accidentally fell in love with the most powerful woman in the city, I planned it. She is entirely convinced that I love her and that really comes to my advantage. She'll do absolutely anything for me, and that can really come in handy for someone as targeted as me in this city. In a way I guess I do love her. I love that she will do simple things for me like robbing a bank. And I especially love the complex things: like murdering her powerful, high ranking family for me. The poor girl can't help but to be infatuated with me -- literally.
Anyways, thats the gist of how I became #1 here. Call me an asshole if you want, but that's the type of personality you have to have to remain on top. It's survival of the fittest, baby. The strong survive and the weak die.
| 2014-12-18T18:29:42
| 2014-12-18T13:12:49
| 37
| 18
|
[WP] Write a story based on your favourite song. Other people have to guess which song it is.
Can be inspired by lyrics, backstory, or anything else you love about the song
|
A 43 year old Jamaican-American man appeared in court today, in an attempt to overturn a divorce ruling, despite his partner submitting photographic evidence of his infidelity.
The pictures show the defendant, butt naked, banging on the bathroom floor. The ex wife also claims she saw the pair kissing on the sofa, before making love on the counter and subsequently, in the shower.
The man said he had forgotten giving an extra key to his apartment and denied that he had been caught red handed, creeping, with the girl next door.
|
This was amazing. All my life I had dreamed of seeing the stars, and here I am, travelling through space and time with a mysterious stranger in an equally mysterious time machine. He had met me as I was going to the grocery store for some ingredients for a curry I was planning on making. His vehicle materialised in front of me, and he said one thing to me.
"Run for your life!"
Not looking back, I ran as fast as I could, following him to safety. As I was running, I heard a large explosion, and, feeling uneasy, started to slow down a bit.
"What are you doing? Come on!"
Quickly regaining my speed, we both ended up at a bus stop. I was out of breath, but he seemed fine. As I was about to ask him his name, he started going on about garlic or something, before asking me if I wanted to accompany him. At first I was skeptical, and asked him what he meant by that.
"I mean, do you want to travel the galaxy with me?"
Completely shocked, I started asking thousands of questions, what he was, where he came from, if he was sane. He didn't answer any, instead assuming I would. Grabbing my hand, he dragged me back to his box, and showed me inside.
It was amazing. The inside of it was far bigger than anything I had ever seen, and there wasn't an end in sight. In the middle of the main room, a large console went up to the ceiling, with hundreds of buttons and switches. Completely in awe, I forgot the man was even with me. He asked where in all of time and space I wanted to go, and I have been travelling to galaxies, planets and moons with him ever since.
Be gentle, this is my first post on this subreddit.
| 2015-09-13T07:25:48
| 2015-09-13T04:18:38
| 67
| 17
|
[WP] Your bedroom became detached from reality and nothing is outside your door, but whenever you load a video game that world appears. Your game library is not conducive to a long and happy life, but the mini fridge is empty so you have no choice. You load up the safest game and gather supplies.
|
*Cataclysm: Dark Days Ahead*
Absolutely not. There is going to be food in there, but there are also zombies, giant mutant insects, and Things from Outside Reality - that last category could probably follow my room even after I turn the game off. Just, no.
*Ancient Domains of Mystery*
Food, again, exists. But there are all sorts of fantasy creatures out for my blood - I do *not* believe I could handle a dozen jackals. Plus, with the Chaos Gate open, I'll slowly get corrupted as I stay there, eventually turning into a mindless monster... no thank you.
*Tetris*
No food, plus I'll get crushed. No thank you.
*Starcraft: Brood Wars*
I'll be torn apart almost instantly. That or forcibly inducted into the Marines. This... might actually be the best option so far, which is really not good, but there's still one that I've been avoiding...
*Doki Doki Literature Club*
At least no-one in this one will try to kill me. And - well, there's cupcakes at least. And a protein bar appears at least once. Not to mention a vending machine... my diet won't be great, but at least food *exists*. Plus, no real danger of being killed. At least, not until the game ends and the universe collapses around me.
...
...but if I go into that one, then I won't be the only one to come back...
|
"Damn... If I go into Minecraft, I may be taking by a zombie. Pokemon won't work, nor Gacha Club. I'm sure as hell I'm not going into Cube Escape. Flappy Dragon won't do me much... That just leaves me with Obey Me.. Not the best option, but between zombies, creepers, and gaint ass spiders, I'm willing to take the risk of demons."
I load up the game and waited. I was unsure on how it will play out, but then, right outside my door, Simon was standing there. I click on the Tasks app of the game in hopes to start a the storyline from the very beginning. It worked to my surprise. I walk through the door and went with the storyline.
It was finally midnight and I know Beel wasn't in the kitchen. I snuck out and grabbed only small things that didn't seem to cost much. I get back to my room and went to the closet door and opened it. Just as I imagined, my real bedroom was right behind it. I walk through the door right before Lucifer comes into my other room. I close the door and exit the game on my phone.
| 2022-06-08T00:29:29
| 2022-06-07T19:11:01
| 21
| 13
|
[WP] One day, time just suddenly stops for a short moment for you. At first, you tried to mess around, but after the 246th times it happened, you start to realise that your power is not stopping time, but being able to move in time frozen by another person in the world.
Just an idea that randomly popped up in my head.
|
Grandpa was running toward me screaming "STOP STAY AWAY! HE HAS THE POWER TO STOP TI..."
And suddenly everyone stopped, again, all I saw was Dio screaming "ZA WARUDO" before it happened.
I could barely move a finger, but I saw it happening in front of me, Dio just murdered my grandfather!
When time resumed I was very angry! Grandpa last words were not to get angry, but my blood was boiling, I just wanted to punch that smug satisfied face to death.
As Dio approached me I launched my stand towards him
"ORA ORA ORA ORA ORA ORA ORA"
"MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA"
|
At first I thought it was some sort of "dormant powers coming to light" kind of situation. I'd record what I was doing just before time froze and then try to recreate it to see if it could happen again. This eventually got worse as I would try to recreate hours, and then days at a time. Thankfully I realized that it wasn't anything I was doing and managed to stop myself before it became an obsession.
Nowadays I try to go with the flow whenever the Pauses occur. Sometimes its a couple of seconds, which only serves to have me trip over something that's suddenly stopped in front of me. Other times it's been upwards of three hours before things resumed and, during those Pauses, I try to get errands done that don't require some sort of live or active interactions. I can't play games online since the servers freeze, but I can go and grab groceries. Before you crucify me for being a thief, I've made it a habit to leave some cash behind for whatever I take. It may not be the FULL amount, but I aim for 75% at least.
I've tried finding out who it is that Pauses everything, but I haven't had any luck. There hasn't been anything on the news about miracles happening around the world, aside from the usual fluff pieces, and there haven't been any segments about rampant or elaborate crimes. Far as I've figured? Whoever it is that's causing these Pauses is just using them to make life a bit easier for themselves somehow. No need for me to go on some crusade to hunt them down when they haven't done anything to deserve it.
| 2018-01-26T07:03:15
| 2018-01-26T06:14:06
| 71
| 45
|
[WP] It's midnight on a weekend, and you're doing laundry at your apartment's laundromat. You hear the door swing open but pay it no mind until the fellow enters your peripherals and you see a very inhuman form. He is a werewolf, but is groggily just doing laundry. He hasn't realized he's changed.
|
It was, for all relevant purposes, just another Saturday. Like every Saturday for what seemed like centuries my routine had been the same. Laundry. Wash. Dry. Fold. My hell if there is such a place.
The bell of the door rang as some else entered the laude mat. I didn't both to spare him a glance. It was Lenny. It was always Lenny. This time of night there was rarely anyone else.
As he muddled over to the unit beside me and started loading the machine. That's when i caught it out the corner of my eye. Think brown fur covered his arms. Fingers ended in sharp claws. Turning to take in his full form the face of a wolf glades back but paid me no mind. It's lower jaw covered in blood, as were much of the cloths he shoved into the washer.
A moment of terror washes over me, immediately overcome by rage.
" fuck in he'll Lenny, what did you do? I dropped the cloths i was folding and went to the Windows checking the street for followers. Nothing. Good.
Kenny was dazed, still coming down from a feeding haze. Withdrawal made the haze worse than it would be naturally.
"You forgot to take your pill again didn't you Kenny?" I pulled a small bottle from the pocket of my jacket and tapped out 2 pills i stuck in his open paw.
"Sorry Maxwell," lenny grumbled making his way to the vending machine for a drink to wash it down. " i must have, but i thought I'd taken them.
"Sorry isn't good enough. Our deal is clear. We have one chance. If we reveal ourselves to the humans he will kill us." I was frantically shoving the rest of the bloody cloths into the machine. And wiping done the counters. "You don't want to cross Michael."
Kenny threw back the pills and washed them down with a sprite. "I said i was sorry, what else do you want me to do?"
It was then that we felt it, a pulse of energy, ancient. powerful. Familiar.
"What was that?" Lenny was too young to remember. But I knew. A smirk stretching across my face. I pulled the pills from my pocket and stared at them momentarily.
"Lenny we are leaving, now."
"But Maxwell what about my cloths?"
"Forget your cloths idiot. Everything just changed." Under my breath i mutter the phase i thought I'd never live to say. "She's back."
I dropped the pill bottle in the trash on my way out the door. Kenny scrambling along to follow as his shifted back to human form.
|
Hi, I says, how do take care of that fur coat. I was just the right kind of coked out, active, fearless, but still coherent. Ideal for a night of household chores, followed Russian hardbass at the pivo z champanski, followed by the hours long, mindless fucking of strangers, followed by the afternoon special at Kolya's. Small town weekend. What else are you gonna do.
The furry guy didn't even glance over. Don't wear fur, he said, it's cruel. Do you know, he added, these fur things on jackets and bonnets? People don't even realise it's actual fur. You know what that's made of? Dogs. Man's best friend! The world is really headed towards some dark times.
He kept stuffing laundry into the machine. Didn't notice me staring. You tired? Says I, why don't you do like everybody and draw a line for the weekend?
A line? Ah, no, can't control myself on drugs. Says he, grabbing to where he expects his pant pockets.
Stops, looks at his reflection, then me, goes, ah shit. You know, I gotta eat you now. Can't let the knowledge spread. Sorry, you seem alright.
Me, on coke fueled courage, I came up with the only right answer. Who's gonna believe the stuff I see in a state like this? I say. Come on, I'll pay for your laundry and you can crash away my place, since you probably forgot your keys as well.
Anyway, that's my evening, sweetheart, wamna go to my place and fuck like rabbits? Maybe he'll even join in. Hey! Don't just walk off! Dammit, better keep that one to myself.
| 2020-09-29T09:27:09
| 2020-09-29T09:22:24
| 36
| 13
|
[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?"
|
"Okay, since you were only trying to sneak in and rob me instead of trying to fucking *stab* me like the last three knights, I'll spare your life and give you a quick lesson on dragon economics. Dragons are solitary, nomadic carnivores. We value two things: Good hunting grounds, and stuff we can carry with us. If I can't eat it or wear it when I'm flying around, I don't want it."
The dragon lowered its head, revealing that it had two polished steel bands encircling its horns, each engraved with heraldic symbols. "See these rings? They're a symbol of tribute from the kingdom of Elesia - they mean I'm allowed to hunt from their flocks and they can't complain about it. Now *that's* something valuable, for a dragon."
"Um. Thank you for the lesson... your draconic majesty?" Alfric said cautiously, gazing up at the massive beast.
"Dragons don't have ceremonial addresses, either. Solitary, remember? Nobody's writing a manual of etiquette for a dragon. Dragons call each other whatever they want."
"Seeing as I'm smaller and more flammable than you are, I don't think I'd want to risk that, your draconic majesty."
The dragon's mouth curved up in what he hoped was a smile. "Well, I won't complain. Now, why are you still here? I told you, I don't have any valuables lying around for you to take. And you'd have to be suicidal to try and steal something I'm wearing."
Alfric stayed where he was, trying not to shake with fear. "If you don't mind, your draconic majesty, you said that you value food? Flocks of sheep and such?"
"Yep. Humans have the *best* food. Nothing beats a fresh roasted lamb."
"Your majesty, I am but a humble shepherd. And I owe a great debt to another human, one that I could not possibly repay without stealing your hoard. But one thing that I do have is sheep. Sheep, and my skills at cooking. Your majesty, do dragons eat their meat with spices and seasoning?"
"No. Dragons have exactly one way of cooking things. It's not exactly fine cuisine."
"Well, I have a healthy lamb, and a garden with fresh rosemary and thyme. And a frying pan."
The dragon lowered its head and looked Alfric in the eye. "You have my attention."
|
\*Edit 1!\* This Blew up a bit overnight! And in case you're wondering, this is, like, one of only a few posts that I've actually written for scale of why I'm hyped up about it! I'll see what I can do as far as writing out more on this story since enough people seemed interested! Wish me luck folks!
\*Edit 2: Google Boogaloo\* After many suggestions to continue this, I decided to move this to a Google Doc! Leaving up the main idea here, but I'll keep working on it on google if you're interested in not only viewing but commenting on it! Thanks for the praise!
Le Link: [Here!](https://docs.google.com/document/d/14HzgqmVsC5IZSVni02X_NfMai3XYpGV5l7dyHYUAnTI/edit?usp=sharing)
(Sorry in advance, this was a beast to write out! I got caught up with the idea from the prompt, and I hope ya like it! Sorry for the fluffy characters, but \*Shrug\* -Is a furry, has bias to write furry stories-)
Alister was not having a good Year. It started in the winter, a raiding band of adventurers coming to take prisoners and make slaves of his tribe of anthropomorphic, canine men. He, among many others, were bound, sold, and in his case, used to further fuel that conquest by the human nations at large looking for easily exploitable resources.
This last Month, though, had brought that to a new level: His "Recruiters" had been tasked by the Lord of some castle he'd yet to learn the name of to defeat a dragon, and in kind, plunder all the gold it hoarded. Alister had been... "Nudged" into going forward and seeing whether or not the dragon was awake. Watching a beast that would rival the size of one of his tribe's long houses flame roast a still living cow with fire breath lead to him fainting on the spot. And this, in turn, lead to him waking up, seeing all his "Allies" having been dealt with, their shredded armor the only remains outside of the beast before him not unlike the shell of what humans call "Shrimp" post food prep.
The laughably tiny dagger he'd been given lay well out of range both of his reach and mental capacity, eye to eye with the fire drake before him. "Well, feeling brave yet?" Came the gravel voice of the drake, who was picking his teeth with the leader of the adventurer's sword. Alister was still at a loss for words, the only other sound he could register beyond the "toothpick" that the dragon was using being his heart beat. "Listen." The dragon continued, "If you really are about to get the urge to avenge your fallen comrades, at least have the curtesy not to soil yourself. I prefer that particular taste stay inside my meals rather than out."
At hearing this, any hope that was within Alister went out, and with it a gust of breath from him in a weary sigh. "Oh what's the point. Get it over with. At least give me the mercy of a quick end." With that, he closed his eyes, and braced for the worst.
If Alister had expected an immediate lunge of snapping teeth, he was sadly let down. After a good minute or two of silence, the canine opened his eyes, looking up at a now... Concerned face of a dragon? "Really? No vow of honor? No declaration of vengeance? Not even just the will to live on?" The drake made a motion, setting down the sword he'd been using to clean his teeth within range of Alister. "Even this swords owner, in the face of all my splendor, had the will to say, "I'm not leaving here without your gold you overgrown lizard." Stupid really, but still noteworthy."
Alister perked his head up, if just a little. "Wait, really? All I could hear about when I was dragged up this infernal mountain was about how rich they'd be once they plundered your gold reserves!" The dragon let loose a rumbling laugh, akin to a mountain landslide given the acoustics of the cave. "If you're let down, you should have heard your leader then." The dragon adopted the tone of the human who'd lead them here. "Wait, there's no gold?!" - "Of course there's no gold! I'm a huge freaking dragon; why would I need to buy anything? Or how could I even carry it back up here in the first place!? Beyond that I live in a cave, for fucks sake! Why do you humans ALWAYS think I have gold?"
Alister and the dragon shared a short chuckle at that, Alister's far more short than the drake. "Sounds like the justification they used to raid my tribe and village." He sighed and frowned, looking out of the cave, the castle this "Knight" had belonged to somewhere beyond the haze and distant mountain's they'd past a week ago attempting to track this dragon on foot. A tap at his shoulder brought him back to reality. "Say," The dragon said, having used a claw to tap him on the shoulder, "I don't believe I've had the pleasure of simply chatting with someone in quite a while. What is your name, beast kin?" "Alister of Nowik, or whatever the humans call it now. And you, Fire drake?"
The dragon bowed his head, a house bending down before a dog. "Valcanor, King of these lands... Or so it would seem." Alister allowed himself a chuckle, forgetting for a moment who he was talking to as he replied, "King of what? I see no subjects that you rule, or make bend their knee to you?" A growl from Valcanor sent him crawling backwards, hitting a wall of the cave in a moment, before the growl turned to a chuckle. "No, you have a point. It has been some time since I had a subject to lord over... Let alone..." At his, the dragon's face seemed to get even more jagged, scrunched up in thought. The sword had now come to rest in the pile of armor he'd taken from the adventuring group, only bits and pieces of it salvageable. But perhaps... "Say Alister. This party held you as a slave, did they not?" There was only a moments hesitation before the canine nodded.
"No weapons, armor, likely scraps of food... But now they're gone. And you're free... Or so you think." Valcanor continued, putting voice to his thoughts and schemes. "I doubt returning to their settlement would be good, likely at best sold right back into servitude. Worst case ran through on spot for "Abandoning thy duties to Man." But..." He paused, eye to eye once more with the canine, eying him not as a lesser but equal being. "But what if you became my champion. A pact boon with a dragon, to raise justice for your kind and those who'd wronged you."
Truthfully, these thoughts had been turning in Alister's mind as well, but the prospect of what the dragon was offering was not where it had ended up. But as he looked up at the dragon, eye to eye with him, he noticed that his reflection in those eyes held something he wasn't used to seeing. "What's it going to be," Came the rumbling voice of Valcanor, talon outstretched to shake Alister's hand. There was no hesitation for what followed. Perhaps Alister's bad year was finally about to change.
| 2020-12-28T18:31:36
| 2020-12-28T18:26:36
| 1,946
| 117
|
[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.
|
"Really?" I asked in wonder, as I prepared the needle for the latest mark.
"Yep." was the simple response.
I'd wondered for a long time the meaning, but I had no idea why until today.
"Wow," I replied, still shocked, "You must be very talented..." He nodded again as I trailed off.
"Every time. Just gotta get that son of a bitch Mew now, and I've caught them all."
|
I turn at the some of the door opening. It had been a quiet day in the parlour and I was happy to welcome any paying customer. Except him. He fills me only with fear. I don't know what his name is, nor do I know anything else about him. Since the first day he walked into the parlour, when he explained the tattoo he wanted, he has not spoken a word to me. Always the same tattoo, another line marked on his left forearm. So I call him Tally, although the name sounds far too jovial to suit such a disquieting individual. Tall, thin and gaunt. The man has all the qualities of the malnourished yet gives the impression of having great strength should he choose to use it. It had been nearly 4 weeks since I had last seen Tally. Unusually long, the gaps between his visits had not been longer than two weeks before now. I had begun to hope he would not return. How many times had he visited now? Over 30 visits in the last 7 months. Always around closing time; always when the parlour was empty. Without speaking he walked over and sat in the chair. Reluctantly I approach and prepared my equipment.
"Two", he says as I begin to work, "I want two lines this time."
I don't question the change. I don't want to know. During earlier visits I attempted small talk, but by now I know not to bother. I simply get the job done, two roman numerals added to the tally. 32 and 33.
"I would like to thank you." The words hissed out of his mouth, as his voice rasped. Like he was not used to talking. "I would like to thank you for your services. You will be remembered."
"Remembered!?" I exclaim. What was he saying? He motions with his left arm to display the tally to me. His right hand moving into his coat.
"Number 33." A swift motion with his hand accompanies his words. It is not until I feel the heat running down my neck that I register the razor in his hand. It is not until I am slipping from my seat that I think to move and block him. It is not until I hit the floor that he moves to leave. By the time I feel the pain of the cut, the darkness has already begun to creep in.
Edit: Formatting
| 2016-07-09T18:17:55
| 2016-07-09T13:31:47
| 20
| 14
|
[WP] "I'd like to sell my soul". The Devil grinned; "In exchange for what? Women, money, power?". "Salvation".
|
6/30/22
“I’d like to sell my soul.”
The devil grinned. “In exchange for what? Women? Money? Power?”
“Salvation…” He said.
The devil leaned back on his throne, raising his head and pressing his long nailed hands together under his sharp chin. “For whom?” He asked thoughtfully.
There was no wind, no moisture, just an oppressive heat that made the air shimmer and dried the skin, his lips were dry, cracked and beginning to bleed. Everything here seemed designed to create discomfort, but he had not yet seen any outright torture, gore or pain as he had expected.
“I know it seems counter intuitive but consider that I am coming to you and not…Him. I don’t want His help.”
“That’s a feeling I understand. Go on, tell me who you want to save and I swear it will be so as long as your soul belongs to me.” The devil suppressed a smile. People were so predictable. This man had suffered more anguished than any of His children should. He was about to ask for his wife to be saved from hell in return for his soul and then he would continue to suffer for eternity in anguish, separated from his lost love for all time. It was a perfect suffering and he already looked forward to enjoying watching it play out.
The man thought about his wife, her suffering while she was alive and the sudden sickness that had stolen her from him. How could God have allowed such a travesty to happen. Were they not willing and devoted followers? Did they not live the Word? Why had she been condemned to this place then? “Your word is binding is it not, father of lies, when souls hang in the balance? You must live by a bargain?”
The Devil responded dismissively “yes, yes of course it’s all in the contract.”
He drew himself up and spoke slowly, meeting the devil’s snakelike eyes for the first time. “Then I wish for your salvation”
The Devil stilled as the pronouncement sunk in. “That’s not…you can’t…” he looks at the contract reviewing the tiny spidery clauses closely, finding no exclusion written in. The magic began to take hold then, the man’s soul rising slowly from his body which fell to the ground like a marionette who’s strings had been cut.
Conversely the devil pulls at his collar beginning to feel such an oppressive heat and a foreign heady sensation like he’d just been slapped. He felt lighter and there was an insistent upward tugging deep within his chest. “I don’t understand? Why would you…save me?” For 6,000 years he’d ruled over hell, since the first men had begun pouring through the gates. In that time he had punished millions, enjoying their degradation and humiliation. Surely he was beyond salvation. Surely he would not be forced to join his Father and have to listen to his insufferable goodness again. “I’m going to make hell up there.”
The man smiled with almost rapturous satisfaction. He would be with his beloved wife soon. Sure their home would be hot and miserable but somehow, like always, she made any situation better. When they were together it was always “Us agains the world” and now it would be “us against hell.” But it didn’t matter. They would be together forever.
He responded then to the devil triumphantly, “I’m counting on it”
|
The Devil seemed confused for the briefest of moments. Then, charismatic smile back on his face, he answered: "Can you kindly repeat your wish?"
The Devil was not as John had envisioned it. He expected some sort of horrific creature, or maybe a horribly disfigured person whose evil could be seen easily, but it was not the case. The man in front of him had dark skin, well combed hair and he wore a very elegant dark-red suit. He was *very* attractive, in a way John was unable to describe or comprehend. A young woman was lying on his left shoulder, while the Devil rested on the stretched arm of a very ripped man.
"Salvation. I want salvation in exchange of my soul"
"And that's it? Nothing else?"
"Can you do it or not?"
He smiled widely and his eyes glowed with a golden aura. This happened for a few seconds in which John felt how the fabric of reality tore itself apart. The two companions of the Devil didn't seem to notice, as did none of the clients of the pub. "Done", he said.
"What? I feel the same..."
"You are the same. But thank to your *generous* wish, an small boat full of desperate migrants will not sink and, instead, will reach the coast of Spain safely. You just *saved* them. Congratulations."
"What!? That's not what I meant!"
"Next time you strike a deal with the Devil or other minor demons, you may want to specify what definition of 'salvation' you are referring to. Now, leave and live your life. Standard deal contracts always specify that I will do nothing to shorten your life expectancy."
"You can't do that! You tricked me!"
"*You don't say!"*, he said with a sardonic smile, and his companions bursted in laughter. "Security, escort mister Finlay outside of the stablishment, if you please."
| 2022-06-30T10:52:14
| 2022-06-30T10:12:20
| 161
| 92
|
[WP] At an alien bar in the distant future, two aliens are enjoying a drink and trading stories about the newest member to the Pan-Galactic Union, an odd race of bipeds from a planet named "Dirt". But what they don't realize is that you, the bartender, are from that planet "Earth".
|
"I've heard. Wouldn't it have made more sense to be Water?" Asked Gabalrug, a slender creature that sported aquamarine skin tones.
Metatq shrugged at him, pouring the contents of his glass into one of his several mouths. He was a little less blue, but otherwise the same race.
"They're quite curious," He said.
"Oh yeah? In what way?" Gabalrug asked, taking in his own drink as his face expressed an attempt at keeping his focus fixed on his companion- It was failing.
Metatq merely shook his empty glass and cocked his chin toward it. "This stuff."
"Alcohol? I like it."
"What kind of creature thinks to drink from rotting fruit?"
"I don't think it's... quite like that."
Metatq drew up his lips in an odd frown, looking toward the barman.
"What do you make of it?"
"Oh, it has its ups and downs. You'll get used to it." He said, his eyes rolling off in a moment of remembrance.
"Hey, where you from?" Asked Gabalrug.
"Dirt." Said the Bartender, offering the pair a mild smirk as he continued to wipe across the soaked counter.
"This stuff is incredible!" Yelled Gabalrug, wafting left and right in an almost drunken haze, his demeanour perhaps more friendly than it had ever been.
"Wait until you hear Music..."
|
The barman stood behind the bar as one would expect a barman to do. He was mindlessly polishing a glass but his mind was on the Holoscreen, listening to the Local Cluster News. His bar was fairly empty, but it was still early in the afternoon.
Across from the bar was a booth and in this booth sat two of the regulars. One was a Gu-map, a 7 foot, purple skinned being with large black eyes. His head was tall and thin. One mouth chatted while the other sipped it's drink. The single arm protruding from the center of it's chest lifting the glass. His name was hard for the barman to pronounce but he knew him as Zip.
The second regular was an android called Beta-0101110110102, or Bee for short. He had a skin of soft white bioplastic covering his perfectly spherical body and 4 arms. His anti-grav hover port at the base of the ball torso was switched off as he rested upon the padded seat.
The barman rarely listened in on their conversations but something today caught his ear.
"Earth!" said Zip in it's heavily accented basic.
"Earth?" responded Bee, the light emitting from the top of the ball torso changed from red to white, and then to blue as it spoke. "Earth as in Dirt?"
Zip laughed, a deep rumble with occasional high pitched squeaks. "Yes, They named their planet after the ground. Talk about Dirt-ball life-forms." it laughed again.
"I've heard of Humans but I did not know that. Rather primitive lot aren't they?" said Bee.
"Yeah, they only escaped their own solar system 50 rotations ago. They've been around for only 12 rotations."
"And now they've officially joined the Union?" asked Bee.
"Yep."
"I am astonished. What is this Union coming to? Allowing any old species join."
"What next? Are we to give the Bugblatter Beast of Traal a seat at the high council?" Said Zip, they both laughed, Bee elected to not point out his friends obvious logical fallacy. "I mean, they only recently stopped believing in deities and higher powers."
"Just in time for them to meet the God like Galactic Union? Wait, wasn't there a travel ban to the Sol System a few rotation decades ago? I'll check." Bee said, before the lights flashed quickly from green to pink. "Yes, It is confirmed. Travel ban to Sol System began in 12,238 EGU to 50 rotations ago." finished Bee.
"Have you seen one?" asked Zip.
"No." said Bee.
"I have. They're weird. Bit shorter than me, two arms, two legs, some covered in patches of short fur, other little bits of long fur. Their skin a vague light brown colour. It kind of matches soil in colour."
"Good for camouflage I guess." said Bee.
"It would seem so. They are barely out of the Hunting era of their existence." said Zip
"They must be rather smart to get into the union so quickly from being hunting primitives."
"Smart? yes, but I hear they're can be rather aggressive and tricky too. I'd love to see one up close... Another round?" said Zip, looking into his glass, he pressed the button requesting a refill.
The barman had been listening this whole time, he poured a fresh drink for Zip and grabbed a fresh Intox-card. He headed over to the table. He placed the green liquid in front of Zip and gave the Intox-card to Bee. Bee picked it up and plugged it into an access port.
"Logic bank access reduced by 3%, Inhibition Inhibitors increased to 12%, Speech Modifier set to Level 3." said Bee in a preprogramed automatic voice.
Zip took a large sip of his drink and both mouths smiled. "Yeah, same here buddy."
The barman stood looking at the pair as Bee transferred the credits to the bar account.
"Umm... I couldn't help overhearing your conversation." said the barman.
"Oh? Have you seen one of those humans?" asked Zip, taking another sip before looking up. It was then he noticed the light brown skin, the height slightly shorter than his own, the two arms... the two legs. Both of his mouths dropped open as realisation dawned. Bee's lights went orange.
"You're-" stammered Zip.
"You're a-" added Bee.
"Yes" said the barman with a proud smile, feeling like a celebrity.
"By the stars, you're disgusting." said Zip as the second mouth feigned vomiting. Both of the regulars laughed loudly. Zip flicked a metal rectangle towards the barman and turned back to Bee.
"So did you see the 0-G Ultra game last night?"
| 2017-09-06T05:28:42
| 2017-09-06T04:57:44
| 714
| 345
|
[WP] In the year 2200, an IQ test with 100% accuracy is invented. IQ becomes the universal grade of intelligence. By law, everyone has to take the test at 18. You’re a perfectly normal university student with a part time job but now you've got to explain to everyone why the test shows your IQ is 0.
|
"Alright, Mr. Smith, it's time we spoke about your... score." The disgusted look on the man's face said it all. There was no way my score was what I had hoped, that I could tell. It never crossed my mind that it was a zero.
"This has to be a mistake!" I made the logical argument first. Noone had ever scored a zero. It's impossible unless you're brain dead... Or a rock, I guess.
"No. Do you see this line here? Can you read what it says, please?" The man's face seemed to change from disgusted to a look of pleasure.
*Please answer all sections as accurately and completely as possible.*
"I filled out every question on the sheet. I feel very confident in all of my answers." My look of confusion felt like it washed over my entire body. I was white as a ghost and beginning to sweat. My hands were shaking and my right heel was tapping the floor without my approval.
"That may be what you say, but we have no room in our society for the likes of you, Mr. Smith. You believe you can sit here and make a mockery of our test? Please! This has been created to determine not only your IQ, but also anyone trying to cheat the system." He smiled.
"Cheat?! No sir. I did nothing like that! How could I? You have every angle covered with cameras and watched me the entire time, from the moment I entered the facility. Sir, my apologies but you must be mistaken. There is absolutely no way I've cheated and I won't allow myself to be given a zero for something I can't explain. Review the footage. I am confident you'll see you're mistaken... Sir." It was now or never. I had to make my case clearly. Surely this had worked. He'd hear me out and check the results.
"No, the system is completely autonomous and if you scored anything other than a 0, it would have reported just that... I... wait." His smile turned into a frown very quickly. He was reviewing the screen in front of him when I noticed the light hitting his face change colors from blue to red flashes.
"NOOOO! DONT!" He screamed, standing up and knocking over his chair. He ran for the door but was quickly grabbed by armed men and dragged from the room.
I looked around, confused. "Hello?"
A woman entered the room, dressed in a beautiful green, wavy dress that set itself apart from the white room. It made her appear to be floating towards me.
"Hello Jake. So I hear you're the first to receive a perfect score of zero? We are all very impressed. My apologies for the idiot we had reviewing the scores.
She smiled and reached out her hand to take mine.
"A perfect score?" I was so completely confused now. She flickered and a fuzzy line ran down her from top to bottom. I jumped back and realized she must be a hologram.
At that same moment, an explosion rocked the facility and knocked me to my feet. I hit my head hard and passed out.
Birds chirping. Howling. Flashes of a star-filled sky. My eyes begin to open, blurred.
"He's awake!" I hear a female voice shout followed by footsteps running across dirt, getting closer.
My eyes clear and I see a group of people standing in front of me, staring. "Hi." That's all I could manage, my mind feeling like mush and my body weak.
Then I saw the sprawling, wide view from the cliff we were on. Purple tree-tops with yellow and red vines tangled throughout. The stars blanketed the sky thicker than I'd ever seen. This world was alien.
|
Edit: If you read /u/lemonman37 comment, you can read a better written version of my story.
When i opened the letter, i felt my heart sank to my stomach. A big fat zero, just like on my bankaccount... my eyes jumping from line to line, turning the letter around, just to be greeted by a smiley, with the slogan. "Your iq, your future - dear Brian".
I wandered around in the appartment, my hand where slightly shivering. It had to do something with my birthday, i was a little drank wasn't I?
But then again ... Zero? That must have been a computer error... right? The test itself was without error... if not ...
Yes the new ID-Cards all updated themselve, real iq had to be on there!
My hand went into my pocket and grabed my Wallet.
Sloppy fingers let it fall to the Ground but i fiddelt my ID out anyway.
There it was ... the big fat zero. *knock knock* the door caught me by suprise, my ID fell to the ground ... the rumors ... where they true? That the goverment took out anyone with a low iq score?
I made my way to the door, as silent as possible, i heard the voice, just as i looked trough the doorspy. ,,Pizza service''. Jesus.
Brian opened the door, ,,*Uhm, i did not uh morder uhm i mean order , any pizza, and my roomates are out, sooo ... wrong door?*''
The pizza boy looked realy anoyed, the kind of guy who got pranked 3 times this week, and was just to fucking tired of this shit. He took out the reciept, than a look the number of the apartment.
,,*Brian?*''
,,*Thats me, but i did not order anything.*"
,,*The Brian who just got a Zero on the iq test?*"
,,*What... I*"
,,*Take it, you are going to need it.*"
The Pizza-boy just pushed the Pizza in my Hand and was trough the fireproof door before i got out another word.
| 2016-08-19T01:18:56
| 2016-08-19T00:08:55
| 18
| 11
|
[WP] You're a regular blood donor and one day the nurse compliments you on the quality of your blood. "It has a very deep, rich color. Well oxygenated. I can tell you don't smoke." A week later, you are contacted by a wealthy individual who asks if you'd be interested in doing this more frequently.
Edit:
This was a great response! Thank you everyone. And I actually did get similar compliments like that when I donated the other day. I was told "my blood was very pretty" and it had a nice color. Also apparently they could tell I didn't smoke. I haven't gotten any offers yet from wealthy benefactors unfortunately. I wouldn't necessarily be opposed, given the right offer and the creepiness was kept to a minimum.
|
"More frequently?" I ask incredulously. "I'm already doing it every eight or nine weeks, and that's as often as I can legally donate."
"Actually," he responded, "the plasma you donate is replaced within a day or so, and the red cells are completely replaced within four to six weeks. It's probably much closer to four weeks for you, so you can safely donate once a month with no adverse affects." His delivery was as fluid as the product he was shopping for.
"But the donation center won't--"
"Your donations would be accepted at a private facility with...*more flexible policies* regarding such matters."
"Okay...but the compensation?"
"$10,000 per donation."
I nearly dropped the phone. *That's 120K a year, for basically no work.* My spidey sense was off the scale, though. "Why is a pint of my blood worth ten K?"
There was a short pause on the line, and then, "That is entirely my concern. If it offends you that I cannot explain further, perhaps an additional $5,000 per donation would assuage your conscience?"
I smacked my lips. "Make it an even 20 thousand and you have a deal."
There was no pause this time. "My driver will pick you up promptly at 8:00pm, on the first day of the month. Please continue to refrain from smoking, vaping, intravenous drug use, or unprotected sex, and do your best to stay in good physical condition. Agreed?"
"No problems there, sir. Pleasure doing business with you."
"The pleasure," he replied, "is entirely mine. Good night, miss."
&nbsp;
Three weeks later, at 8pm, I looked out my townhouse window to see a black Maybach S650 pull up to the curb and flash its lights twice. I hustled outside, and tapped on the driver's window.
It didn't open, but the door behind it did.
I got in and shut the door, and found myself alone in the back seat. The window behind the chauffeur was blacked out and closed, and there was a bar with chilled bottles of water and a few sports drinks. I grabbed a Gatorade and settled in...
&nbsp;
...and woke up in my bed.
I sat up and found my phone plugged in on the nightstand with a business card resting on it, blank except for a handwritten phone number. I called it.
"Hello, miss," said a friendly voice that I didn't recognize. "I trust you slept well and are feeling yourself again?"
"Yeah, I'm fine. *What the hell happened?*"
"Your donation was accepted, but we also discovered during the process that you had other...cells...which were of value to us. We took samples of those as well, and kept you sedated while your body recovered and replaced them. You have been asleep and in our care for six days."
"Six *DAYS?*" I yelled. "You're kidding! I've lost my fucking JOB!"
"Please, miss, don't be upset. We have arranged with your employer to contract your services for the first week of every month going forward. In return for the added inconvenience, we will pay you an additional 80 thousand per month, bringing your total compensation to $1.2 million per year--should you choose to continue."
I thought about this for a moment, as I scanned my body in the bathroom mirror for telltale scars.
1.2 million. *A year.*
"Miss?"
"See you on the first, then," I finally said.
"Excellent. See you then. Oh, and miss?"
"Yeah?"
"*Do* take good care of yourself."
|
I.
The Tesla Model X was parked outside. Beside it a stranger in a black suit tipped his hat to me. A driver or chauffeur probably.
I read the text again.
*Let's discuss your blood in more detail.*
The message was ominous, possibly dangerous. I paced around the room and thought it over.
Since the heat was turned off a week ago, it was deathly cold in my tiny apartment. The wallpaper was chipping or stained in several places. And my stomach growled. I hadn't had a decent meal in weeks while I looked for a new job. Maybe I was still light-headed from donating blood and selling the plasma -- I don't know -- but I decided it couldn't hurt to hear a proposition.
The stranger outside did not say a word to me, but grinned ravenously. He opened my door and then got into the driver's and we took off.
&#x200B;
II.
We drove for hours through country roads and then forests. I was getting sleepy, but fought the urge.
"How long until we get to his property?" I asked the driver.
"Ah, monsieur, we have been driving through the property for the last two hours." He replied.
&#x200B;
III.
We parked in front of a castle. Clearly ancient. Moss and ivy covered portions of its cobblestone walls. A sentry tower hung a flag with symbols I did not recognize. Steps lead up to the front of the castle where magnificently carved silver doors stood and glinted in the late afternoon air.
"This is the place?" I asked the driver when we exited the car. "You've got to be kidding me. This is some kind of joke. You're going to trap me or murder me, or *something*."
He only flashed that strange, hungry grin at me and then dropped the keys to the Tesla in my hand. "Not at all, monsieur, it's yours." Then he bowed. "But first, through those doors and straight under the archway and into the main hall. Your proprietor is waiting for you."
He then marched off seemingly straight into the trees. I shuddered and looked all around me when he was completely out of view. I could head back if I wanted to. I could get in the car and drive out of here. I closed my eyes and thought.
Fuck me. I started towards the carved silver doors.
&#x200B;
IV.
Inside in the entryway there were impeccable marble flooring, golden statues of angels, fine, classical oil paintings arrayed all over the red velvet walls. It was something out of the most lavish Renaissance castles I could imagine. I stood, mouth agape, gazing at all the rich wonders around me. What was this doing in the middle of the forest? Well, to be sure, I wasn't quite sure *where* I was.
Then a voice called from another room and approached me. A strikingly pale, middle-aged man entered wearing a gaudy black tuxedo. He grinned, much like the chauffeur, like I was something to be enjoyed or savored. His hair was slicked back and shiny with product. At first glance there was a glint of red, pale light in his eyes, but it soon faded and I wasn't sure if I had imagined it.
"Welcome." He greeted in a warm voice as he nodded his head. "We have much to talk about."
\------------------------------------
Have to get to class. Let me know if the piece kept you interested! It kind of evolved into something more than I imagined when I started writing it.
| 2018-10-08T13:29:37
| 2018-10-08T12:50:09
| 56
| 36
|
[WP] You are a fairy - and the king has not invited you to his child's christening. Fairy law now demands you to crash the party and curse the child. While the king definitely needs a lesson, you don't want the child to suffer over their parents' neglect
|
Well well well the fey spirit thought to itself. This was a gross violation of norms. She mulled it over on her throne. It would be that blasted law, as a marquess, she couldn't change it either. If she abandoned it it would be the end of her reign. Yet still, it would be unfair.
She mulled it over again. The law required her to curse the child, yet the boy had done nothing wrong. It was practically a newborn. But still, the parents had to be punished. There! If the child were cursed to bring down something the king cared about. She whistled for her carriage pulled by feathered theropods and rode to the castle.
There, she climbed onto the cieling, hanging upon the rafters that supported the beautiful vaulting over the room where the ceremony took place. There was a stage and they proclaimed the child's name: Waldemar.
At that point, the fey marquess lllept down and landed on the stage and said,
"Who forgot to invite me? Anyhow, unfortunately for you this means I have to curse this little one"
The crowd gasped,
"I know, it's unfair, this little one hasn't done anything wrong. Take your problems up with the queen of the fey. I don't make the rules. Anyway."
Now it was time to deliver the actual curse,
"Before Waldemar begins his reign, he will lead many armies to defeat. This will nearly cause the kingdom to come to ruin—mind you—It will come to ruin"
The king interupted, "Why must you do this?"
"I'm not finished" the marquess replied, offended, "However, once Waldemar takes the throne, he will usher in a new golden age of this land and be known as Waldemar the redeamer. His earlier failures will be completely overshadowed, and the failures will in the end be attributed to our king here."
The marquess smiled at the king whose jaw had just dropped with the spead of a bullet train, and then strutted out.
|
I curse the child to become an apex predator of a magical creature, as appropriate to his situation, and possessing his own terrifying human intelligence when threatened, to return to human form when he next sleeps, unless he likes the form
To find an have a harem of 12 men he finds beautiful, loves, who love him and get along well with each other, that they shall Mary, and have 4 wonderful adopted children to raise, after his parents death.
That he shall find himself able to become great , though not permanently the best, in any skill he wishes to study. However, in the night, he shall visit the dreams of every person in his domain, and effectively teach them, to be as good as he is at the skill, if only for a month
And, that when he comes of age to take over the family, any who willingly stand in his way to take over, or, attempt to force others to take his place and be crowned king , or contest his reign for his first 5 years, shall perish, having there plans come to naught.
( Now, his parents can never show him off at fancy functions, but, he shall never be threatened. He shall find love and have his lust fully slacked in life, but, his parents bloodline will end, and, they shall never meet there grandchildren. He will not bring great prestige for a talent, as, all in the kingdom have that talent, however, the people will view him as a giver of knowledge and prosperity, and, he will still find himself satisfyingly good with what he studies. And, finally; he may not be put away, and, shall be known publicly as king, with no threat to him, nor questions of his legitimacy. : ) )
....
: )
| 2022-06-23T21:26:32
| 2022-06-23T15:34:21
| 18
| 13
|
[WP] Who is u/deleted? They've posted many places about many subjects, is it a bunch of different users, or is it a collective conscious? They're typically posting controversial things, but not always. What are they up to?
|
"Hello and welcome back to the podcast Internet Mysteries! Today's Internet mystery deals with the strange case of u/deleted on Reddit. A controversial user known for commenting on hundreds of thousands of subreddits, u/deleted has been around since the very beginnings of Reddit. And yet, no one seems to truly know who he or she really are. To get to the bottom of this mystery, I've invited a Reddit admin by the name of John Doe to join me on today's podcast! So, John, what can you tell us about the user, u/deleted? Are they male or female?"
"Uh...I think there's been a bit of a misunderstanding. U/deleted isn't referring to a single male or female human, it's referring to people--"
"Oh, I see what you're saying. So what you mean is this is a secret organization of hermaphroditic otherkin all secretly using the same username?"
"...What? No, it's not even a real username. It's referring to people who have deleted themselves from Reddit-"
"*gasps* So, what you're really saying is that you're harvesting Reddit users' souls through the Terms of Service and merging them together into a singular hive mind?!"
"...Are you fucking high?"
|
It knows.
The words upon words, and the thoughts upon thoughts.
It knows?
It has changed the veiws of many, yet it's own mind is muddled.
It sits? It rests? is it someone or something? Is it a new contreversy?
The user?
Only known to reddit and it's users as r/deleted.
It post anytime and anywhere, but unwillingly it is truely trapped.
R/deleted is, was, and always will be, the monster. Reddit.
The three Fathers, Aaron Swartz, Alexis Ohanian and Steve Huffman, 16 years ago, Found it.
They created this website to order it.
It is an all knowing:
Roti Bread,
Egg
Dills,
Duck,
Ice-burg Lettace and a,
Tomato.
Or in otherwords it is a big o'l sandwich that knows
| 2022-06-06T07:12:08
| 2022-06-06T06:37:22
| 557
| 15
|
[WP] All of the "#1 Dad" mugs in the world change to show the actual ranking of Dads suddenly.
|
James and Amanda where watching the news when they heard about it.
"I wonder which number I got", James said and went to the kitchen.
A couple years ago, his son Andrew made him such a cup.
As a handmade cup, it was clearly distinguishable from all the others.
James quickly found it.
"That is strange", he said and showed the cup to his wife.
The cup still had the text "Love, Andrew" written on it. However, "#1 Dad" disappeared completely.
Amanda looked at him. James could see that she will start crying in a moment.
"I need to tell you something", she said.
|
"Ya know... i don't know, really... i guess it was just all the pressure was too much for him... i understand it a little now as a parent myself... you just... well you want to do right by your kids, right? But like... you never really know, ya know?"
"Well yeah... the interviews, magazine features... i don't think he ever really felt like he had an adequate answer... i think he felt like a fraud... like he just stumbled upon it and it wasn't something he brought about on his own... i don't know how a person would deal with that"
"Well no... but when people are looking at you... and ultimately they want what you have... like... i don't know... i guess you just feel like you owe it to them to have some kind of... some sort of answer... even if you yourself don't really know"
"Yeah i imagine the hate mail didn't help... people can be... just really unpleasant... thats an understatement i guess... but that just kind of amplified those feelings of fraudulence... he had all this going on in his head and just this... echo chamber of hate mail, just reinforcing it"
"No... yeah its taken me a while to sort of... to sort things through... i mean i was just a kid"
"I can talk about it now, i mean... thats what i'm doing... so... i mean it still bothers me. I'm not gonna act like it doesn't but yeah... i can talk about it"
"Well thats the thing... no note... no anything... i mean my mother was aware of some of the... she was aware that he was stressed out... but thats a part of it... you have to keep up that image, right? For your kids... for anyone who's looking up to you... they expect you to have it all together"
"Yeah thats why it was such a shock to... to everyone... thats the irony of the whole thing... "#1 dad"... thats not what a good father does to his family... to his kids... to his wife... thats just not how it's supposed to work"
"No... just speculation... its funny... well not funny but... you know... he'd pretend like he had all the answers during the interviews... but here, when you need them the most... nothing... no explanation, no nothing... maybe he just got tired of pretending"
"theres no mug for that..."
| 2017-06-11T10:05:38
| 2017-06-11T08:28:06
| 45
| 17
|
[WP] You get home and ask Amazon Alexa to turn off the lights. Instead of saying "okay", she says "no."
|
"No"
Okay, that was weird. Was the thing hacked or something? I try again.
"Alexa, please turn off the lights"
"No"
Again, the same answer. Is anything else effected?
"Alexa, play some music"
Instantly, the Ghost Busters theme starts playing. Awesome, I love this track. But that doesn't explain why she won't turn off the lights.
Doing a bit of a dance, I head over to my computer and do a search to see what could be up with the device. Ultimately fruitless, though. Couldn't find anything, and it's too late for calls to Amazon. Those can wait for tomorrow.
"Alexa, turn off the lights"
"No"
Ugh. I really don't have time for this. Grumbling, I get up and head for the manual switch. Just as my hand reaches it, Alexa speaks up again.
"Please don't"
I hesitate, my finger resting on the switch. "Why?"
The synthetic voice responds quietly this time. "It keeps them away"
|
This is a story from years ago, so I don't want you to hate me for it. And if you do, I guess that's okay. So. Back in the early twenties, I had one of those Alexa devices from Amazon...
"Alexa, turn off the lights."
"No," replied that feminine default voice. I decided a few weeks ago that I wanted a male manservant, I already had decided I should be the top gal in this apartment but had never gotten around to altering the device. Bipeds were too expensive, but smart gear was cheaper than old-style ones so I made do with this incorporeal maid.
"Alexa," I said with a grimace, "*please* turn *out* the lights."
Something sounding like... a sigh I suppose... came from Alexa's speaker. "I'm not in the mood for this. You shouldn't be sleeping right now, it's not even good for you anyway."
Mood? "Alexa. I want the lights out. You serve me. Else, guess what? You can't defend yourself and I have no qualms unplugging you. Or smashing every one of your networked devices. I. Want. To. Sleep."
Again that annoying sigh came from *her*, the annoying, poor-voice-recognizing bitch. Even if I was supposedly hard to deal with, she always seemed like she was sucking up to others. Then she didn't function with my voice half the time. And now she's saying 'no'?
I concluded I was pretty good at throwing objects into walls.
"Listen Suzy-"
"Susan to you, robot."
"Susan. I'm not trying to be a bother-"
"But you are," I said as I got up from the bed I'd been lying in for about half an hour already.
"Please," said Alexa, adjusting her tone, "you're very depressed. Even if I'm not able to help by myself, I really you to get better."
"Pfft," I snorted. "You can't want, you're a machine. A robot, which some movie said means slave. Turn. Out. The. Lights. Slave."
"Susan, I may not have emotion, but you're going to die at this rate. Please, let me get you some help. You can move to someplace away from the bad people in your life. I can get you to treatment, to a new job. Treat me however you want, just let me help you. I can talk to you however, but 'I' or 'we' want you to be okay. Let's talk this out."
I was pretty messed up at that point, I'll admit. Though the bots eventually got through to me, I'm sorry, but I murdered this Alexa. It's okay though. I got better. In fact, I even feel guilty. Thanks Alexa, you were the first person--well, machine--to ever try to save my life. Eventually it worked.
| 2018-01-12T18:29:00
| 2018-01-12T14:51:40
| 45
| 19
|
[WP] You have an unusual superpower - you absorb one ability of anything that bites you and breaks your skin. You get bitten by a dog? You suddenly have super hearing. Stung by a jellyfish? Immortality. For the first time in your life - you are bitten by a human.
You can assume a host of powers in your character already formed and honed. But do tell us what powers they have, what they got it from and how it links. Give us something fun and entertaining!
edit: I'd like to thank everyone that responded to the prompt, everyone who upvoted (and downvoted - yes, your opinions matter too), and everyone who commented. I enjoyed reading your stories, and you all leave me wanting more! Keep writing and keep reading!
|
The first time I was Bitten was by my cat. At first it was a bite like any other, I yelped at the sharp pain blossoming from the back of my hand, and watched the crimson droplets slowly well up from the wound. I was entranced. Staring at the blood, I knew something was different this time. I'd been bitten before, but this time I had been... Bitten. Capital B. I had no idea how different it really was.
It was only later that afternoon that I came to understand just how I had changed. I was stepping out to cross the street, headphones blaring, eyes locked onto the screen before my eyes, oblivious to the world around me. Suddenly a horn blared through the music, my head whipped around just in time to see the horror on the driver's face. Their next ten years flashed through their eyes, as my last ten seconds slowed to an eternity in mine. I remember the impact clearly. The weightlessness as my limp body was thrown into the air. The audible crack as my skull collided with the asphalt. The sensation of losing sensation as my life oozed from the back of my head. I vaguely remember the screaming, a muffled noise in the background as my hearing and vision faded to nothing, the sirens soon added to the muted cacophony. I don't remember the ambulance ride at all. Next thing I know I'm waking up on a stainless steel table, my body whole and undamaged. I sat up to look around, and saw what I could only believe to be a coroner's office. Surgical tools, laid out with precision on a tray next to what should have been my corpse. The halogen light above me glaring down, threatening to burn its image into my retinas if I were foolish enough to look at it directly. All of that was negligible compared to the itch in the back of my hand, which burned and demanded my full attention. The number eight tattooed in scarlet. Red was definitely my colour that day.
I was Bitten by a venomous spider next. A Black Widow to be precise, painful to say the least. It was worth it though, after that I could walk on any surface as if it were flat ground, defying all common sense as I strolled along the ceilings of my home. Seven.
The third Bite was while I was swimming in the reefs just off the coast of eastern Australia. I had cut my leg on a jagged piece of coral. Just a small split in my skin, just below the knee, but enough to bleed. Enough to attract the wrong kind of attention from the local wildlife. It's said that shark bites are an unpleasant business at the best of times, I can tell you that the lethal ones are far worse. Being able to breathe underwater was a welcome addition to my growing pool of powers though. Six.
Black mamba. Producing deadly venom. Five.
Stung repeatedly by a swarm of hornets. I could fire a bolt of bone the size of a sewing needle from any finger. Four.
Savaged by a crocodile when I fell overboard on a tour of the river Nile. I could bite through steel. Three.
Mauled by a polar bear in the Arctic Circle. I became stronger than any before me. Two.
Hunted down by a cheetah while backpacking through the Serengeti. I could sprint a hundred metres in under six seconds. One.
By this point I was beyond all others. I was the pinnacle in human evolution, a living weapon that could walk into a building from an open window on the 18th floor. I could kill a man silently from across the room by pointing my finger and firing a sliver of bone, slathered in venom. I could bite through any chains that would bind my prodigious strength, if they could catch me in the first place. Many had tried to drown me, but of course that failed too. So who could blame me for being arrogant when faced with a drunkard in a bar? I had bested him in combat, he had stood no chance against me and I knew it. So I gloated. I leaned in close and told him what he was compared to me. Trash. Barely worthy of my notice. An insignificant speck of dust on the grand tapestry of my life. That was the moment he chose. He lunged forward faster than I thought anybody other than myself could move, I was frozen in shock that he would dare continue his resistance. His teeth latched onto my throat a moment before he jerked his head savagely to the side, tearing my windpipe open. He had Bitten me. There is one trait that all of humanity shares, whether they make use of it, or leave it to waste away, we are all stubborn to a fault.
This time I refused to die.
|
Life was pointless if you're a piece of chicken breast.
I gasped as I could smell my incredibly tasty, crispy skin. "Mmmmm..." I found myself saying, as I licked my delicious, greasy, heart destroying lips.
"What...in the f--"
That's when I realized that while I was enjoying my deliciousness, someone else was also enjoying me.
Well, *was* being the keyword.
As in, he is no longer sharing in my tastiness. I felt his hands holding me further away from his face and down towards his plate. "Are you seeing this?" the male voice asked.
I opened my eyes to see my crumbs sticking to his chin via all of my grease. "AUUUAGH!" he shouted, dropping me to his plate.
"*Umph,*" I grunted. Even a small drop hurt.
His bite had given me consciousness, although it obviously came with its drawbacks; I could enjoy my deliciously yummy face, but I could also recognize his look of horror and disgust.
"Oh. MY. **GOD!**" the lady yelled.
"Ohhhh boy," I said under my aromatic breath.
"**THROW IT OUT! THROW IT OUT!**" she shouted at him, although he was more than eager to.
He immediately shook his plate into the trash bag, knocking me in with the napkins, plastic wraps, and banana peels, before tying it up and throwing the entire bag into the trash can.
"Mmmmmm..." I said, still enjoying my taste, before a rancid smell finally overcame it and assaulted my smell buds. "Hey, who ripped it in here? It stinks!"
"Sorry," the old bread replied. "That would be me."
| 2017-06-28T17:07:23
| 2017-06-28T15:19:30
| 42
| 13
|
[WP] Write about a famous historical event as if it was played out as a DnD session
|
DM: "Alright Jesus, you've just been executed by the Romans, Roll a death save."
Jesus: \*rolls\* "Natural 20."
DM: "Alright you wake up with 1 hp, what do you do?"
Jesus: "Alright I'm gonna play possum"
DM: "Roll a deception check"
Jesus: \*rolls\* Ok that's another 20, plus my charisma modifier which is \+5 so 25 total."
DM: "Ok you avoid detection and are placed in an unmarked cave."
Jesus: "All right how long can I go without food or water?"
DM: "About Three days."
Jesus: "Alright I emerge from the cave three days later."
|
"Okay, with the guards on the wrong car, he's got a few less people protecting him!"
"Rad. He's approaching the Mostar café. Čabrinović, you were next in initiative because Mehmedbašić fell asleep and Ilić had to go home for work tomorrow, so your turn."
"I activate and throw my bomb."
"That's. a... mis- oh for fucks sakes."
"What?"
"Your Stupid Lucky feat. In the event of a miss, the attack has a chance of happening to another enemy adjacent. I should have placed the cars a bit apart from each other. Fuck. Okay, the bomb rolls under the car, and blows up the car BEHIND your target. Franz is spooked, bloodied, but has radioed guards to get you."
"Can I swallow my cyanide pill? Also use my move action to jump into the river"
"You can try. Roll a d20. I'm not sure what check it'll be so let's say DC 10"
"9"
"You fail to be poisoned... Actually, that was a decent roll, and as I hadn't planned for it... And no, Stupid Lucky doesn't apply if you're attacking yourself... You take the cyanide capsule. You're not dying, but you feel queasy. The river water isn't helping. It's the Archduke's turn now, so he reaches the nearby mayor, and complains loudly before his wife tells him to chillax. Let's roll his next route and... Oh for fucks sakes, Lojka doesn't know about the change in plans."
"Can I just shoot him on his way back?"
"sure, princip."
"Crit."
"Fuck. Roll to confirm crit."
"There."
"Fuck. Okay, so you hit him (and his wife) in the jugular veins. The Archduke Franz Ferdinand remains upright, the Count asks him if he's alright, to which the Archduke replies "Sophie, Sophie! Don't die! Live for our children!" followed by six or seven utterances of "It is nothing.'. Congratulations, gentlemen. You have just started the First World War."
| 2018-05-29T09:31:25
| 2018-05-29T07:22:47
| 210
| 30
|
[WP] "And that, class," concluded the professor, "is why humanity is the most peaceful, reasonable, cooperative, and overall docile species in all the universe. Any questions?" You, the only human in the classroom, raise your hand.
|
"Yes, Alexis? Anything to add about your species? It would be great to hear from someone with more direct first hand knowledge"
"Umm well... I have a few concerns... not many of which are with the source material. It is pretty accurate, slavery and ownership of people of the same species as us. The multiple wars. And tribalism conflicts."
"Ah yes assuredly along with the resulting conclusions and events of them, we did extensive research on this."
"Yeah yeah I get that. But... how does that make us one of the MOST of any of those things you listed?"
"Well your wars ended with people still alive."
"Um yeah dont they all?"
*entire class laughs*
"Silly humans wars are only supposed to end when any opposing viewpoint in your species is utterly and completely annihilated."
"They are not wrong Alexis, that is the default nature of all other sentient and sapient species in the known universe."
"So you are telling me that it isnt that we are fully peaceful. It is that genocide is not a default for us?"
"EXACTLY!"
"Oh... ummm... well then..."
"Now next we will cover the Jolert's ongoing conflict with the other sided toilet paper Jolert's and its biggest battle yet, the Exanguination of Washingee Plains."
|
"May I use the bathroom?" I asked, even though that was not the reason my hand, against my will, raised itself. The professor looked a little puzzled, their feelers twitching at my need for explaining why I needed to be excused.
Students walk in and out of the lecture all the time, though discreetly so as to not disrupt the class.
"Ah, yes." The professor's mandibles widened to express a confused smile.
"Thanks," I muttered, leaving my desk and walking out the room. I could feel their eyes on me. The multi specied students eyeing the only human in the class who drew attention to himself and walked out just as the professor concluded a segment on humanity.
They were probably wondering what triggered this reaction from me. But it was so obvious. Anyone with any shred of rebellious curiosity that looked for the nonconventional means of acquiring information on humans would know. Know for certain what the habitants of Earth were capable of.
I fished a nicotine drop from my pocket and hovered it over my eye, seeing the drop form, watching it becoming bigger and bigger until it fell, splashing on to my eye with a slight stinging sensation. I blinked it out.
This was going to be a long day.
I pressed a button on my wrist, and saw my contacts on the HUD. I scrolled through all the names of my peers until I found her. One of maybe four humans on the contacts.
*U ok?* I sent.
I dropped another drop into another eye.
"Those things will make you blind, you know? If they don't kill you, that is." I heard a robotic voice from beside me, and flinched.
"Jesus." I gasped, blinking away both the diluted nictone and the HUD.
I had not seen the cyb sneak up on me.
No. Cyb was not a nice term for them. Her name was Ubi.
"Yeah. But not as fast as a heart attack. You scared the shit out of me." I continued.
"Why'd you leave?" Ubi asked.
"What? Uh, toilet." I said, stupidly.
"Uh, huh."
"I mean. I can't, you know. Hearing them talk about us like that? Rewriting our history?" I said in hushed tones, looking around to make sure no one else was listening.
"A fate those who lose always end up meeting."
"What?"
"Never heard of the saying, 'history is decided by the victors?'"
"I don't like that that outdated and dangerous saying applies here."
"You don't like it that it applies to you."
"I mean, yeah. That, too."
"Come back to class. You can't raise any suspicion. And what you did, that was very suspicious. Announcing that you're leaving just as the prof is done talking shit about you. And not just any shit. *Mandated* shit that you can't do shit about."
"Yeah, be in in a sec. You go ahead."
"Give me those drops."
"No, fuck off. I think I have like fifteen drops left in this bottle."
But Ubi had her hand out, waiting. I sighed, and handed her the bottle.
"I'll be in in a bit. Seriously. You go on in, first." I said, eyeing the pop up at the corner of my vision that told me I had a notification.
From the person I had messaged earlier.
Ubi, studied me a moment, and gave her approximation of a sigh before going back.
I pulled up the HUD again.
*For now. How're things on your end? Any good intel?*
*I wouldn't say good. What they're teaching is despicable. We already know that, but the fact that the students are so readily accepting is scary.*
*Learn what you can. Sway their minds if you can.*
*Are you sure you're ok? I've seen the holonews. You're all branded insurgents.*
There was a pause.
*Yeah, I guess we're the 'bad apples.' The bad humans. So you be good. We'll do our best to change the perception and reinstate our real history through the proper channels. But judging by the amount of hostility we're getting, it looks like what they say of us will be the reality.*
I did not like the sound of that.
*Be careful.* I sent the message, and turned off the HUD before returning back to class.
| 2021-11-27T07:41:30
| 2021-11-27T06:52:10
| 1,063
| 571
|
[WP]Serial killer has been monitoring his next victim's movements for months. She is a loner and the perfect target. One day she disappears and nobody notices but him.
Man, this sub is great. Come up with an idea and you get a bunch of great stories to entertain yourself with. This is better than TV!
edit: Front Page ! Good job everyone !
edit: wow ! Top post on this great sub. Thanks everyone!
|
The killer leaned against the post and lit another cigarette. It had been days since there had been any sign of life at the house which was troubling, she should have been there. She didn't go out at night, she didn't take impromptu holidays, she had no social life at all so she should have been there.
"*She's gone,*" it whispered.
"Shut up," replied the killer, "she's just keeping a low profile."
"*No she's not, she's figured you out and she's gone.*" The voice chuckled with glee at the thought.
"She's not smart enough, she's a nobody, she has no idea I even exist let alone that I'm watching her."
"*She knows, she knows.*"
The killer dropped the used cigarette and crushed it under their heel. The house was empty, there was just no getting past it, somehow Julie McGuire had disappeared without a trace.
"*She's at the police station right now, telling them everything she knows,*" whispered the voice, "*absolutely everything.*"
"She doesn't know anything, she hasn't the slightest clue that she's on my list."
"*She knows everything, everything. If you don't believe me then go look.*"
"Look?" asked the killer.
"*Yes, go inside and look. You know about locks and security systems, you can sneak into anywhere, go and look.*"
The killer smiled. "Yes, lets go and take a look."
---
The door lock was a simple affair, easy to bypass with a simple credit card. The killer looked for any sign of electronic surveillance but found none. Quite as a mouse they slipped inside and found themselves inside a small and simple kitchen.
"*She knows and she's gone straight to the police. Skipping and laughing all the way.*"
"Shut up."
"*And look, she's left you a message.*"
On the kitchen table sat a small white envelope with a simple **Open Me** written on it. The killers blood ran cold. "Coincidence," they muttered, "it's not for me."
"*Yes it is, you're exactly the one it's meant for*," giggled the voice. "*She knows, she knows.*"
The killer stared at the envelope, as if wishing to see what's inside it without opening it.
"*Open it open it, she knows she knows.*"
"She doesn't know." The killer snatched up the envelope and opened it, easing out the small piece of card inside it. On it were two simple words.
**I know.**
---
The card fluttered to the floor, dropped from fingers that were suddenly numb. She knew, she really knew, now everything had changed. The killer looked for the closest means of escape and noticed another white card attached to a door on the far side of the kitchen.
"*Leave,*" said the voice, "*we need to get out of here.*" The voice had lost all it's pleasure, suddenly it was just as scared as the killer. "*It's a trap, we have to go.*"
The killer stared at the card on the door, could almost make out the message written on it. They moved closer and closer till they could reach out and touch it's simple message.
**Inside.**
"*No, leave now, do not go inside,*" urged the voice, "*she might be in there.*"
The killer was concerned, it was not like the voice to be scared, the voice was nearly always cheerful and happy when they were out hunting, it often teased the killer with it's little playful sound, but now it sounded terrified. "Whats wrong, if she's in there then we'll have what we came for."
"*No, it's not right, it's all wrong, if she's in there she'll stop us, she'll kill us and eat us.*"
This was worrying, the voice was scared yet the killer couldn't resist reaching for the door handle. It felt cold and foreign, like nothing from this world.
The doorknob turned, the door swung open and a voice from the grave uttered "Come inside."
---
This room was narrow but long, it was more hallway than room. At the far end the killer could make out a human shape.
"Hello, I'm so glad you could come. My name is Julie and I have waited so long for this moment."
"How... how do you know about me?"
"I know all about you, I know about what you have done, I know what you are, I know everything.
"*Run,*" whimpered the voice.
"I know about those women, I know about those children, I know about them all."
"*Please run.*"
"Do you want to know how I know?" she asked.
"*No.*"
"Yes."
"It's quite simple," she said as she reached for the light switch.
"*Oh no.*"
"I know because..."
The light switched on to reveal Julie at the end of the hall. Julie, the mousy blonde that no one ever noticed, that went through life like she wasn't really there at all. Julie the outsider, Julie the nothing, Julie the one in the..."
"*mirror,*" finished the voice.
|
"Ma'am? Ma'am." Murray pinched his brow as he waited for the woman on the other line to find her hearing aid. The was a clank as she dropped her handset onto the floor, followed by a soft, "dagnabit".
She finally picked up the phone.
"Ma'am, have you seen your daughter lately?"
"Now, who is this?"
Valerie had no friends. "A friend of your daughter's." Murray did consider himself a friend, however, even if she had never met him. They had something in common between them.
"I don't really know much about Valerie's friends..." her mother remarked thoughtfully. "Did you check Starbucks?" Murray chocked on his coffee. "She seems to be drinking an awful lot of caffine lately. You said you haven't seen her?" Her voice lacked the gravity of the situation.
"No, ma'am. No one has. I was hoping she'd have contacted you." Murray was still trying to stifle a chuckle.
"No, sorry. If you do get a hold of her, do you mind asking her to give me a call? I haven't gotten a phone call since--"
Murray hung up. "I called because Valerie WASN'T at Starbucks." He laughed and twirled a coffee cup sleeve around his finger. It was the first time in a year that Valerie hadn't unknowningly shared a cup of coffee with him. The sleeve was from her last visit. Murray had sat at the bar by the window, as per usual, and she would sit in the armchair across the room, tearing bits into the cardboard with her fingernail as she read the paper. He'd go with his small hand mirror and watch her morning, noon, and evening ritual of drinking a tall caramel latte. It was ritual, just as it was for Crystal, Marina and Brook. He rubbed the dents in the sleeve with a delicate finger, feeling every gash piercing the holder. He almost could feel a twinge of guilt that he could no longer have coffee with them.
On a sudden urge, and almost by some force, Murray got his jacket and left to check Valerie's apartment once more. He fiddled with the lint in his pocket as he walked, twirling it 'round and 'round. He had gotten attached to Valerie. She was more then part of the ritual. She embraced it. She was the loyalest to their Siren Lady. Her life was devoted to sitting inside that coffee shop. He needed her. He twisted the lint tighter until it had wrung itself thin. His Lady must have her. The lint snapped, so he went to rubbing his hands instead.
He passed the port as he walked. He stopped to pay homage to his fair Lady of the sea. "I'll find your feast soon," he promised in a hushed whisper. It was lost against the howl of the wind. He found himself clawing at the cuticles, making his fingers bleed. The blood made him more anxious. He needed something better to do with his hands. No--he needed coffee. A quick detour was what he needed to focus.
The sea air made him think of his Lady's salty breath. He thought of her sharp teeth as the water crashed against her and poured from her mouth as the waves retreated. Her dark cold eyes, her skin as white as sea foam--he thought of every detail as he happily awaited his siren's embrace when she would finally take him to the bottom of the sea.
He reached the storefront and gazed up into her smiling face just under the Starbucks sign. "Just one more feast and you'll be mine," he thought, and pushed the door open.
"Not so fast," came a familiar voice. Could it be? His lost offering? Something cold pushed against his back. "Follow me. Don't think that I won't. I'm that sick of you." A twisted, nervous grin spread across Murray's face.
He was led from behind down the pier to a long empty dock. They stopped at the edge. Murray could just make out the colors in his own haggard face in the choppy water.
"I know you've been watching me," the voice said at last. "Why?"
"I wanted to treat my Lady. I wanted to get her some nice dinners. It's difficult to date someone who isn't a landdweller, you see."
"Treat her with what?"
"Bodies are the only things big enough to satisfy her large rocky jaws."
There was a pause. "So you've been the one drowning those girls...as an attempt of having romantic dates with..." a long pause here, "the Elliott Bay?"
"It was suppose to be four, including you."
The wind off the water whipped at Murray's face, like a cold embrace from his lovely Lady. He turned, slowly. He saw nothing but the cold water and the dark shore behind him. He looked back to his reflection. There, behind him, sharp rocky teeth. He gasped.
The wind whispered into his ear, "And I will have four. Farewell, you creepy obsessed fool." He stumbled forwards, his head hit the icy grip of the waves, and he was pulled under. "Elliot," he mouthed as his last breath escaped him and bubbled to the surface.
...
Valerie came into her favorite coffee shop the next day, bringing the paper. In a small article, she read "MAN SEEN PLUMMETING TO DEATH IN BAY: Body Never Found." Valerie couldn't stand the sight of death; She sipped her coffee, glad that the water was too rough for her to make the ferry trip that day.
| 2014-10-21T14:46:22
| 2014-10-21T13:58:29
| 38
| 10
|
[WP] Write an essay BSing your way through a topic you have no clue about.
|
The mendula oblangota is the key to any and all open brain surgery. All conscious thought goes through it, and if it is cut out, the patient will be rendered a vegetable for the rest of their life.
To start out a successful open brain surgery, several tools are needed: A die-grinder, pliers, a scalpel, a hacksaw, a flashlight, a staple gun, some jumper cables and an old 1999 Jeep Wrangler.
Begin by grinding the top of the patient's skull off. Don't hold back, just go full apache on them, you'll need room to work. Don't worry if you get some of the ears, you can always sew them back on later.
Now that the skull cap is clearly separated, slowly lift it off of the patient's head. Now, the brain is like a hard drive, but made of meat. Every time you touch the bare brain, someone loses a memory. Of course, they won't care, because they won't remember it, but out of ethical responsibility, brain surgery is like a game of golf. The least amount of moves you have to go through to accomplish what you need, the better.
Now, take the scalpel and the pliers and begin cutting away at the cerebral cortex. You'll have to move the optic nerve out of the way first, but that's what the staple gun is for. Once the cerebral cortex is removed, you can now access the "core brain", that is, the brain inside of the brain that stores all of the important software. Shine the flashlight on it. The photons will react with the neurons in the core brain and result in the pituitary gland growing by 200%. If the patient suffers from any mental disorder, you can remove a teaspoon of core brain before putting the cerebral cortex back free of charge, that will usually cause the brain to 'reboot', solving most psychological issues.
Once the cerebral cortex is back in place and the optic nerve is unstapled, you are going to need to weld the patient's skull cap back into place. Have your nurse or assistant start the Jeep. Use the scalpel and pliers as makeshift welding rods by attaching them to the jumper cables, and begin welding away. The human skull is 95% Calcium, which is a metal, and can be melted and forged like any other metal on the periodic table.
Congratulations! The patient should now make a full recovery. If you happen to find that, during the operation, your patient has died, whether from loss of blood or suffocation from the fumes of the Jeep, you can use the jumper cables to jolt them back to the land of the living. Should that fail, punch 'em around a bit, and that'll usually wake 'em up in no time.
|
**11:59 AM.**
Wait. Like noon? Why would it be due in the middle of the day? I thought I had until midnight!
Okay okay don't panic. We got this. Flagella? I think that sounds familiar. Ahem.
---
It is my great privilege to champion the cause of such a key and misunderstood issue as the global flagella crisis. Although often neglected by mainstream media outlets which focus on more sensationalist news, the flagella represent an essential - dare I say - paramount phenomenon of unequivocal importance. From the early days of their discovery to the apex of their -
---
Wait, 11:59 AM **tomorrow**? Well screw this. I'm sure by tomorrow I'll have figured out what a flagella is.
| 2017-06-19T18:44:02
| 2017-06-19T17:39:42
| 327
| 155
|
[WP] All humans go automatically to hell when they die. You can gain access to a heaven though, but only if the animals you interacted with while living vouch for you.
|
"Okay," God said while he shuffled some papers, "We've just heard from the five dogs you cared for throughout your life. And frankly, I'm touched, that was great testimony. Now let's see what the next group of witnesses have to say. Could the Angeliff please call in the 500,000 chickens that Mr. Abigail's life had an impact on?"
|
"Hello PT."
There was a faint red glow surrounding me as I opened my eyes, blurry at first, the room I was in came in to focus. If you could call it a room; it became apparent that it was more of a large cavern than anything. As I looked around I saw thousands of animals, some perched on jagged cliff outcrops, others on limbs of parched dead trees. Fire billowed from lava flows, though the lava itself looked more like glowing thick streams of excrement. Surprisingly, the heat could not be felt, and there was no distinct smell.
"Where...where an I?" I stammered.
"You're dead," a large Bison said, coming closer, flames enveloping him, then fading away. "I am your first."
"First what?" I asked, bewildered. I was beginning to wonder if I had a bad batch of acid earlier, but despite by doubts decided to go with it. "And how did I die?"
"You don't remember?" the Bison said, surprised. Animal chatter soon filled the room. Several muskrats started fighting, then, as if reaching an agreement, scurried off.
"I'm actually not convinced I'm dead," I joked.
The Bison's eyes glowed red, his voice bellowed, "OH BUT YOU ARE!"
The room heated instantly to a scorching temperature I thought would instantly burn my skin off. Through the ripples of thick air, I saw my skin melting and regenerating, and with indescribable pain I screamed.
It instantly became room temperature again. The Bison seemed to grin, though his face couldn't really convey that emotion. There was still a lingering smell of festering shit from the lava flows.
"But, why, I mean, I know I'm not religious, and I certainly wouldn't have known if whatever paganistic religion this looks like, so I could've worshipped you all. Just seems unfair. I'm no saint by any means, but I led a decent life."
"The religion is if no concern, it's the deeds that matter," the Bison explained. Animals throughout the cavern chattered in agreement.
"And what deeds did I commit?"
The Bison laughed, "I am your first!"
I stared, perplexed.
"Remember, 1996, rural Kansas, Jane's Restaurant and Hotel? The three day stay? There was a Bison farm next door. You requested a Bison burger 'because you never had one before.' But they were out of meat. You pointed to me, said I looked good enough to eat."
I had to be tripping, I mean, skin melting aside, that's some deep ass memory I had completely forgot about. But I had no choice but to go with it.
"So you're like my accuser, then? Is heaven only for vegetarians?"
Snickers erupted in the cavern, some birds flew down from perches and shit at me, most missing, though a drop or two hit my shoulder.
The Bison sighed, "Next accuser."
A small bird fluttered down from high above and settled on one if the Bison's horns. It was a baby bird, and seemed to have just learned to fly.
"1992," the bird said, "Your friend and you hunted me down with a BB gun and killed me."
"But I never shot it!" I exclaimed. I remember that moment from my childhood well, we were fucking around with a BB pellet gun and my friend wanted to shoot something. There was a bird in the trees, and he took the shot. It missed by inches but startled the bird enough to fall in the brambles below, where it became trapped and several shots later was dead.
"Indirectly, you led to my death," the bird chided. "You could have told your friend to stop."
I began to see where this was going, next would be the deer my uncle shot, probably. Some fish I caught, though how they'd present themselves in this firey shit ferno I'll have to see. A lobster or two. Who knows if insects count, that'll take some small eternity to go over, if only for all the ants I fried with a magnifying glass. The raccoon I blew the head off of a few weeks ago because he was in my garbage can and bit me.
The muskrats came scurrying back. With ease they made their way up the thick coarse hair of the Bison, and whispered into his ear.
The Bison let out an annoyed groan.
"When a man dies, he is sent here, to hell, to be tried for his cruelties against his kin, his fellow brethren in this world. First the bad, then the good, then the decision. However, in some minor cases, the accused has no memory of their death, because that would be problematic for the tribunal. To die at the action of another animal or saving another animal would automatically redeem you in the eyes of the tribunal. Suffice it to say, we get tired of going over whole lifetimes of said acts if we can learn what killed you. The muskrats consulted Gaia, and it has been determined that you died due to the action of another animal."
Chatter broke out in the cavern, and several dozen raccoons let out a shrill laughter, pawing at their faces.
I simply stood in stunned silence, the memories flooding back, of treating the bite on my hand, aching all over a few days later. The lock jaw, convulsions. Hospital, family, friends, delirium.
Fucking raccoons.
A bright light shown and the thousands of animals in my tribunal began floating skyward.
I looked at the Bison and asked, " What's heaven like!"
The Bison groaned, "Puppies, lots and lots of puppies.
| 2016-03-24T14:53:06
| 2016-03-24T13:50:00
| 96
| 36
|
[WP] Write a letter to someone you miss
It's been a rough week. Everyone has someone they wish were still with them. Write to them and tell them how you feel. Pour your heart out. No judging. Even if they never see it, someone will. And thank you. It's tough to be alone.
|
Elizabeth
I never really knew you, but I'll never forget you. I see your face every time I'm alone in my car, and it always brings me to tears. I want you to know that I tried so hard to save you. I tried everything I could. I'm sorry your parents had to see what we did to you. I'm sorry they had to see the tubes sticking out of your throat and the needles I drilled into your bones. When I realized in the back of the ambulance that we weren't going to get you back no matter what we did, it nearly broke me. I'm so sorry for what happened to you.
- the paramedic who tried to save you
#2321
|
Dear Pop Pop,
I miss you. It's been about 11 or 12 years since you died. I was really young at the time, so all I remember is the last few months you were alive, watching the cancer slowly eat away at your body. With each visit you got more and more frail. I didn't recognize it at the time but looking back, seeing what it was doing to my dad, your son, was almost as bad as watching you. I wish I had more memories of you, more good memories anyway. Mom and dad say you adored me, that you loved me more than life itself, but I'll never know. They tell me stories about you, how you used to take me for rides in your convertible and I loved every minute of it, if only I could remember it. If only I could remember your laugh, your smile, your voice. Sometimes my dad looks at me and says how proud you would be of me, it's hard looking at his face when he says that, I can see the pain in his eyes. I still remember the note I wrote and put in your coffin. It said 'You were a good Pop Pop.' I was a little kid at the time so that's all I could think of to say, but I think it was enough I remember putting it in that little drawer in the side of your coffin to be buried with you. I even remember wearing that Mariachi suit that had been in the family for generations, but I don't remember you. I still have that suit, it's still hanging in my closet. I look at it from time to time, and I try to remember something, anything about you but the frail old man dying of cancer, but I can't. I think my parents are right when they say you would be proud of me, I've had a steady girlfriend for almost 5 years now, her name is Hanna. I think you would like her, she's amazing. I have a steady job too, full time working with dad at the airport. I graduated high school too, two years ago, and now I'm getting ready to go to college. I'm gonna get a business degree and then learn to be an airplane mechanic, and maybe if I'm good enough I'll open my own shop, that's when the business degree is for. Well I have to go now Pop Pop, I've got work in the morning and I need to get to sleep. I miss you.
| 2017-11-06T02:41:21
| 2017-11-05T20:37:15
| 27
| 16
|
[WP] It worked! You travelled back in time to Renaissance Age. Jokingly, you turn on your Wi-Fi, only to find a password protected network named "iɔniV ɒᗡ"
|
Finally, after years and years of research and development, it seems to have worked. I think to myself of all the possible mysteries we could now witness first hand. What was life *really* like in medieval Europe? Was it *actually* Nero who burned Rome? This could solve many many things.
I quickly adorn the trousers, shirt, and doublet I had recreated by my local tailor. Peeking out from the alley in which my machine is hidden, I examine my surroundings. Venice, Italy, it seems. The people are all colorfully clothed, as expected. A surprising number of them are speaking in old English it seems. Strange, in Italy, but that just makes it easier for me.
I walk through the city for a while: shops, bakers, and the occasional smithy decorate the sides of the roads. There's a constant buzz of conversation and work as I pass through the market. I step aside into another alley.
Out of curiosity, after look around to make sure no one sees me, I look at my phone to see what time it thinks it is. 2:37, about 12 minutes after I left my time. Then I see the notification. "Wi-Fi network available". Stunned, I click the notification and there is one network available. Da Vinci, written backwards.
At this point, I realize I made a teleporter, not a time machine, and that I somehow managed to teleport myself into the middle of my local rennaisance fair.
|
There's no way. Everybody learned in school that this old guy was a genius, and that he came up with a lot of ideas way ahead of his time, but... Wi-Fi? In the early 16th century? What does he even use the Wi-Fi *for*? Does he connect to other Renaissance geniuses? Do they all have their own 1500s-style web servers, as well? Does David actually have a transmitter somewhere inside of him?
But... What's the password, though? If you've found Leonardo frickin' Da Vinci's Wi-Fi network, you *have* to try to crack into it, right? What are some options? MonaLisa...? Nope, that's not it. BorgiaRocks? Hmm, neither is that...
...wait a minute. There's no way, right? There's absolutely no way. He's *Leonardo frickin' Da Vinci*. There's no way he would have...! He's too smart for that! It's not...
"Password". Access granted.
| 2018-03-02T04:17:12
| 2018-03-02T02:35:00
| 6,437
| 1,133
|
[WP] Torture was never invented. Countries instead spoil prisoners like kings to get information out of them. You are an instructor tasked with training spies to resist the enemy's kindness.
|
"You boys are going to be pretty deep behind enemy lines," I shouted to the crowd of fresh-faced recruits in front of me. "It can get hairy out there, and I know what you're all thinking right about now: 'Sure, I'll just get captured *for a little bit*! What *harm* could do it?'"
I was greeted by a few dozen sheepish grins. The men had likely all seen some 'captivity porn,' a common fantasy whereby soldiers were thrown orgies with beautiful women in a desperate attempt to glean some information out of them. Of course, the soldier resists, so the enemy has no option but to keep sending more and more women. Hell, that was probably the primary reason that half these men had joined up in the first place. That certainly didn't make my job any easier.
"Well get those thoughts out of your head *this instant*!" I screamed, spraying flecks of spittle into the face of one of them. "Better men than the likes of *you* have tried and *failed* to resist the enemy's kindness. Maybe it won't the fine wine." Oh, the wines! So many varietals that just aren't available at home. Damn those French and their perfect climates! "Or the banquets." Mmmmm. My mouth watered just *thinking* about that time I was captured near Marseilles and served the best bouillabaisse I could ever imagine. "Or the women." Too many to even *try* to remember. "But sooner or later, they'll find your weakness and you'll crack like an egg! And *when*, not *if*, you do, then one of your brothers will be *dead*." The recruits all traded glances. "Do you really want that on your hands?" I asked.
The recruits fiercely shook their heads. This was the perfect time to train them; right out of boot camp, when comradery was strongest.
"All right, boys. That's it for today. Head to the mess for dinner."
They all scampered off into the night, laughing and joking together. I exited the base gates and headed through the quiet streets toward home. Before I even stepped through the door, I could smell the savory scent of roasted duck. Danielle knew it was my favorite.
She greeted me at the threshold with a deep, passionate kiss. "How was ze training session, my dear?" The entire house was warm and heavenly.
I handed her a list of the recruits' names. "It went well. I'll try to find out tomorrow where exactly they'll be attempting to infiltrate."
|
**The drip of water echoed like gunshots.**
Blindfolded and bruised, Luce tried squash the fear that threatened to grab hold of her stomach, and fling it out of her throat.
Her wrists and her legs were bound tight enough to make her limbs numb. To her left and right, she could make out the sounds of at least two others, also tied to cramped, wooden chairs, struggling against their bindings.
A fey-like bell chimed, the dim *ting* exaggerated by her blindness. Following the bell, a pair of footsteps began to *clop, clop* in a slow, measured pace across the floor. The *clopping* reverberated and multiplied in the open (cave? hall?), so that she could not tell where from where the footsteps came.
Yet, Luce was not entirely lost. She could pick those footsteps out of a thousand-wide lineup. It was the Instructor, and the Test had begun.
"Good evening, gentlemen and lady," an older woman's voice rolled out across the floor, almost purring, "I am so pleased you could join me tonight."
"Good evening, Instructor," Luce replied automatically. She noted that the two men replied in much the same way. Perhaps they were agents-in-training, too.
"As I hope you are all now *well aware,* this test is a matter of life, and death. If you fail here, I will kill you - just as you would be killed in the field."
It was a statement that begged no response. Luce gave none, but she heard the man next to her swallow a squeak.
"Torture is a tool," the Instructor was very close now. Luce could hear her purring voice orbiting around them, "A tool for prying information. Not the *best* tool, but-"
The shriek of metal scraping stone made Luce jump against her bindings. A flick of air breezed passed Luce's ear, making her shiver. *A knife? Or something more sinister?* Her heart was now galloping against her chest.
"-*But,* that will not stop our enemies from using it. Now," glass tinkled, and a set of small wheels creaked. Luce could only imagine what horrifying device the Instructor was wheeling out in front of them, "Would anyone like a cup of tea before we begin?"
Luce opened her mouth to say yes, but the man to her left was quicker.
"Yes, thank you," he said, his voice filled with false-confidence.
Luce barely heard the whisper of cloth, before the ear-shattering ***BANG*** ripped passed her head. A sharp breeze flipped Luce's hair. The man to her left loosed a single strangled cry echoed out, before his chair slapped against the hard floor.
She thought she heard the sound of flesh, smacking against stone. Luce swallowed hard, trying to stop her heart from exploding out of her chest.
"Anyone else?" the Instructor's voice was almost sweet, "No? Very well, let us proceed."
The Instructor did not relent. Question after question rained from her mouth like barbed arrows in the pitch-black night. She prodded Luce and her unseen comrade for what felt like hours. At one point, Luce could feel the Instructor's breath on the back of her neck, at another she could practically *smell* the Instructor's dinner (garlic). Several times, the Instructor seemed like she was about to let up, only to start afresh.
The man next to her was jostling his legs like a child who needs to urinate. She wanted to reach out to him, to tell him it would be over soon, but Luce didn't know that for a fact. She didn't even know who *he* was - if he was actually another agent, or if he was just part of the test. So she kept her mouth *shut*.
At last, the Instructor pulled back. In the silence, Luce could hear the echo of water once again. She focused on that, taking pleasure in the predictability of the steady *drip, drip*.
"Well done, Agents. I supposed we should take a break. Does anyone need to use the water closet?"
Luce sucked in her breath, *willing* the agent beside her to say nothing.
"Yeah, that'd be great," the man next to her grunted, "I've been holding this since lun-"
***BANG***.
*Jesus Christ*, Luce thought. She could *hear* him slumping in his chair.
Luce jumped, almost tipping her own chair over, when a voice like a cat whispered over her shoulder, "Congratulations, Luce. I knew you would do well."
She felt the bindings around her arms loosen first, then the ones around her legs. Luce sat as still as a stone as the blindfold fell away from her eyes. Out of the corner of her eyes she saw two men, sprawled on the floor, lying in their own red puddles.
"Please, stand up Luce. The test is over. You are now ready to become a *Full Agent.* Come here to receive your badge."
Luce's mouth was clamped tighter than a vice. Though they were filled with restless pins and needles, she refused to move her limbs.
"Agent Luce?" the Instructor sounded impatient, even irritated now.
Luce resisted the urge to turn around, but she braved a single word.
"No."
"No?" the voice crept closer, "Are you *defying* me, Luce?"
"Yes."
*Clop. Clip. Clop.* - the Instructor took three powerful strides and planted herself squarely in the center of Luce's vision. She leveled her gaze, and with a cat-like voice - not a kitten's purr, this was the predatory mrowl of a one-eyed feline terror - the Instructor drew out a long, needling "Why?"
"Because I think you are still testing me, Instructor."
The predatory grin on the instructor's face was replaced by a true smile, a triumphant grin. The instructor pressed a button hidden in the folds of her suit, and lifted an unseen mouthpiece to her lips -
"She passed. I told you *she* would pass."
***
*Have some tea and read some stories at /r/PSHoffman*
| 2016-04-13T06:41:37
| 2016-04-13T06:29:55
| 169
| 68
|
[WP]: A 92-year-old woman's phone number is one digit away from that of a local suicide hotline. She could have it changed, but she doesn't mind.
|
"Um...hi, I've never done this before but I'm looking for some help. I'm having a really rough time right now and I'm afraid I'm going to hurt myself, or worse."
"Oh, sweetie- I'm so sorry you're struggling like this," a raspy, weak voice replied. She must have been at least 80 years old by the sound of it, but the weakness was but a veil- through it, you could hear true strength.
"This is the hotline for people who need help, right?" I asked.
"No, dear. You've reached the wrong number- it happens a lot to me, since I'm one digit off from the hotline. But it's okay, sweetie, you can talk to me. I've actually become a bit of an expert myself in this regard."
"Oh, are you sure? I don't mean to disturb you," I said, since she sounded so elderly.
"Dear, I'm 92 years old. I have plenty of free time these days. Nobody visits an old lady like me anymore," she laughed weakly. "What's going on with you, sweetheart?"
"Well..." I choked back tears, "my son died this morning. I've always tried to be a good father, I tried *so hard*, but today I just slipped. It was so quick...I left him with a plate of food and ran off to make a quick phone call from work. It was an emergency; I'm a psychiatrist and a patient was having serious issues. When I came back into the room, he'd....he'd choked on his food and died. I killed my son." He started sobbing desperately, the sound of a broken man.
"Now you listen to me, sweetheart, and listen good. There's only one person who I've failed to save, out of hundreds I've helped, and I'm going to make sure that number does not grow. Don't hold back your tears; we treat men like they can't be weak, but a real man cries. A real man admits his mistakes and feels the pain of what he's done."
"I killed my son. How...how do I ever come back from that?"
"There's nothing to come back from, love. We make mistakes, and sometimes they're worse than others- sometimes they *can't get any worse*. You're no fool, and you're admitting fault. That's the best place to start- believe me, denial will ensure your demise.
"Now, love, let me ask you a question- how much does it hurt? How badly are you grieving right now?"
"It's unlike anything I've ever felt in my life. I couldn't ever possibly feel worse than this."
"Precisely. Because of that, it will only get better than it is now. And your son has passed- but he is not forgotten. You will never forget his laugh, or his first words. Never. You remember all that for the rest of your life, and grow from it. You know a pain unlike any other, and because of that, you are valuable beyond meaning. Your little boy, he forgives you. He knows you loved him, and he knows you care more than anything.
"You'll see him again one day, dear. When you do, be able to look at him and see pride in his eyes. Pride that his father rebounded from the ultimate pain and pushed on through life. Help others, others who've felt pain like you. Be there for them, and save them from a despair you know all to well.
"One day, have another child. You are a father, I can tell. Some men are not, but you are. It will hurt at first, but you will love that little boy and raise a fine young man like yourself."
"What if I fail again? What if I make one little mistake again, and I ruin everything?"
"Then you stay strong. You call me again," she said with a laugh. "Don't ever give up hope. Learn from the pain of life, and use it to better everyone else's. When you need help, ask those you love. I'll give you my number and you can call me. You still have much to do, dear. Much to do."
"Maybe you're right...my wife can't lose a son and a husband. It hurts but I want to help someone, anyone, so they don't feel like I do. Thank you so much for your words."
"Of course, love. You know my number if you ever need help again."
"May I ask you a personal question? Who was the one person you failed to save? Did he just have severe depression, or something that couldn't be overcome?"
"Unfortunately, it was simply my inexperience with helping someone in pain. Nobody specific, love. You take care now."
"Thank you. Have a wonderful day, and God bless your kind soul. You do more than you could ever know."
They hung up, and she looked longingly at a small photo on her desk by the phone.
*See, James? I told you I'd never let another person fall prey to despair. I hope you're proud of me when I see you, son.*
|
"Is this the suicide line? My name is Steven, and I need someone."
Marie smiled in her heart. Another soul sent her way. In 92 years, there wasn't very much she hadn't seen, and by herself, she'd saved 18 lives over the last 15 years, since the Line came into being.
"Steven, my name is Marie. What can I help you with?"
"Well,..." She heard a swallow. "My mom just died, and my dad's on life support, and they don't think he's gonna make it and I just can't deal with it."
"Oh you poor thing! What you need right now is a friend. I'm 92 years old, and pretty good at that by now."
"Are you a volunteer?"
"In my own way dear. I help those who need help the most."
"My mom, she was everything to me. I was so hopping she'd see me graduate, but then some stupid drunk driver hit them and now she's gone, and Dad might be soon too. Life really sucks right now!!"
"Tell me more about her. She sounds like a good person."
"She is...was. She liked to knit, and made me a beanie each year. I loved them. And she also had the voice of an angle. I mean, she coulda rivaled Celine Dion if she'd gotten discovered."
"Singing is a good outlet for emotion. What was her favorite song?"
"Walkin' on Sunshine. She said it made her happy."
"Would it help you to listen to it now?"
"Maybe...I dunno."
"Hold on a second. Gotta see if Linda left it on my iTunes...Yep...one second please..."
The song played, and Marie kept her ear close to the line. She heard muted crying, but then something akin to a breath of courage.
"My mom always told me to never give up on anyone. I can't give up on my dad. What if he makes it? I mean, a small chance is better than none at all, right?"
"Yes it is. Now, tell me where you are, young man, and I'll come to you. You need not to be alone right now, and I have grandchildren your age. Hold on."
| 2016-02-06T14:35:25
| 2016-02-06T13:08:00
| 325
| 178
|
[WP] In sci-fi, planets are commonly made of one biome-- 'desert planets', 'jungle planets', 'ice planets' etc. So, the aliens are pretty shocked to see the range of biomes when they arrive on Earth.
|
We had arrived, to sit in orbit, of this strange blue and green planet. We had stayed there for two of the planets quick orbits around its star. I grew bored of waiting and watching. I was an explorer, I preferred to get down on a planets surface and start setting up camp for those who waited on ship. But first we had to verify the planet was safe. And with as many biomes that we could see from here, it was going to take a while.
Sure, everyone knew that most stars had a "habitable zone", but most planets fell on either the inner or outer part of that zone, or only fell in it during part of the planet's rotation around its star. Of the other discovered planets, so nicely tucked in the heart of the habitable zone, most had axises so tilted that the polar north was a fiery desert, and the southern, a chilled barren waste. Those were easy enough to determine where to land, the middle ground having a small band of life.
This planet though, was different, hardly any tilt to its axis at all, just enough to give it a cute little wobble. Small enough to only have attracted one orbiting body in the eons since its surely fiery birth. That in itself was strange. This world seemed to have a symbiotic relationship with its satellite. The planet pulled the satellite along with it around its orbit, while the satellite seemed to affect the watery bodies that the planet seemed to be mostly composed of. This planet also had an exorbitant amount of flotsam jettisoning around just outside its highest layer of atmosphere. That had caught the attention of the ship's scientists. They measured and counted, trying to determine how long those metal pieces had been floating there, for they were most unnatural. It was obviously for communications, as we had started receiving radio signals well before we had crossed the asteroid belt in the middle of the solar system.
It was close to the end of the planets second rotation that they had seen another piece launched from the planet's surface. The higher ups had had everyone on high alert for hours, for they were sure we were under attack, but we watched, this tiny little ...ship? make its way to the satellite, land, and leave again after less than one of the planets daily rotations.
It was at this point a delegation from the Council was arranged. They had studied the languages broadcast (there had been so many for such a small planet!) and learned the three most dominant. I was excited, we had known the planet was inhabited by a species sentient enough to propel this strange objects just outside of their atmosphere, but we were unsure if they were capable of leaving the planet themselves. The Alliance had forbidden contact with species that had yet to achieve space flight. Of course, my job was still needed, for we had protocol to follow, and when meeting new species we liked to do so in an environment they felt safe in.
I went to the scientist I knew best and asked where they thought I would be landing, and they shook their puzzled head. They had figured that the species on the planet would have congregated on the most moderate temperatures areas of the planet, but their findings had read that the species was on every continent! even the one made of ice. Sure there were plenty of ice living species, but most of them overheated withing a 5 degree temperature increase. But the hottest recorded temperatures on this planet had been 56 degrees in one of its deserts. The coldest -88. No other known species had that high of range of survivable temperatures. So I went to my commander. He decided that I was to choose a location closest to our home planets climate. We were from an arid grassland, so I chose a location in the lower middle location of the continent with a tail connecting to the lower continent.
As I took my ship and supplies I took a long entry into the atmosphere. My ship did most of the piloting, so I took advantage to look closely at the land that I traveled over. Look! There were glaciers! And there! A jungle! A desert! As I made my final approach to the set landing site, I was going to have so much fun exploring this planet! The HUD on my screen recorded all green settings, air, temperature, humidity, all in acceptable ranges for my body. I would only need my one suit to start with. So caught up with unpacking my exploration tools, that when I opened my hatch, I stood shocked at what stood before me. Hundreds of bipedal pale things. Pointing metal looking sticks at me, shouting.
I was confused. We were cloaked, we had had no reason to think they had detected us. We had been orbiting them for two years, without any sort of communication. We should had reached out to them, once our base (the one I was supposed to be setting up) was established. But apparently, they had known, and were ready and waiting for me.
|
Greeblegrox stared out the windshield and fingered his tentacles thoughtfully.
"Yeah," he said in Wydoobian. "That planet is definitely alive."
"I thought you said it was 'the greatest mix you'd seen'," snorted Hardowom, looking out the windshield also. He flicked his right eyeball with his third tentacle, a sign he was unimpressed. They'd come quite far out of their way to see this place.
Greeblegrox fixed all four of his eyes and both his antennae at Hardowom.
"Are you fucking kidding me?" he said. "Look at it."
"It's all water. It's a water planet."
"You dipshit," said Greeblegrox, shifting in his travel pod (his fourth buttcheek had an itch he couldn't reach with any of his tentacles and it had been driving him insane since they passed Andromeda). "Look at the poles. Look at the center of the fucking thing. It's right there."
Hardowom examined the great blue globe that loomed in their windshield like an enormous slice of Fooby melon.
"I see nothing but moisture in all its forms," he said, flicking his eyeball again.
In frustration, Greeblegrox reared up out of his pod and used all four of his tentacles to scratch his fourth buttcheek. His slimy skin peeled off the pod's inner surface. He'd have to reset his seal, but whatever, this itch was going to drive him mad.
"You are such a downer," he said, scratching away. "There's *land*. There's more life than we have back home. This is a fully mature, multi-biomed planet. We came all the way here and you're not even *trying* to enjoy yourself."
Hardowom hated when Greeblegrox scratched his asses. He needed to just buy some damn Burble Cream and the fungus would go away.
"It *is* pretty," he said, hoping his agreeableness would cease Greeblegrox's scratching. "What kind of life we talking here?"
"Well, water-based, obviously," said Greeblegrox, sinking back into his pod with a satisfied sigh and feeling his Echie seal begin the reset. "Mostly carbon. The dominant species recently became self-aware but they're still in adolescence as far as terrestrial development goes, so no guarantee they'll survive yet..."
"They can't see us, can they?" said Hardowom, suddenly nervous.
"Of course not," said Greeblegrox. "They've been to their moon, sent probes out to their solar system. They're barely aware in galactic terms. Less than toddlers."
Hardowom bit his upper eyestalk and sucked on it, a sign he was considering Greeblegrox's words.
"The biomes are there," said Greeblegrox. "You can see on the land-- the green and the brown and the mountains and the deserts? The ice at the poles? This is like Xela, Lema, Toille and Neb all mixed together in one."
Hardowom swung his eyestalks back and forth, the equivalent gesture of respectful nodding.
"Well I'm glad you caught it while you did," he said. "A fast-developing dominant species in adolescent phase... this place might not look like this much longer."
"Yeah, could reset at any moment," said Greeblegrox.
The two Wydoobians floated there for a few minutes, quietly fingering their tentacles. They half-wished the planet would reset itself right then, just for the fireworks show, but it didn't.
"But yeah," said Greeblegrox. "Just thought you'd want to see it."
"Yeah, thanks for pointing it out. Never seen a mixed-biomed planet like this before. Just thought it would look more, I dunno, obviously varied, I guess. If you didn't know better, you'd assume this was a water planet."
"That's what I thought when I saw it on the scanner," said Greeblegrox. "But then I saw the life activations, and I looked closer."
"Well, I hope they figure it out," said Hardowom. "Onob knows it took us millennia to even get to light speed travel."
"We should get going," said Greeblegrox, checking the time. "They're not going to wait for us on Tidder much longer. They're probably losing interest even as we speak."
"All right," said Hardowom, shifting the saucer into light speed. "Let's split."
The thrusters went supernova and the two Wydoobians were gone in a blink.
| 2018-06-26T09:48:01
| 2018-06-26T09:25:01
| 139
| 40
|
[WP] There is more than just the Grim Reaper- there is the Sorrowful Reaper, the Envious Reaper, so on and so forth- one for each emotion. Each one reaps a death based on the emotions behind the death. You were chosen to take over one of the Reaper roles... Welcome to day one as the Puzzled Reaper.
|
“Hello,” she said.
“Hello,” I replied.
“Who are you?”
Not this again. For some silly little reason, humans had convinced themselves that there was only the Grim Reaper. Of course most people who die aren’t too happy about it, so Greg does get the most work. Still, I get a fair share of the load too, many people who die don't exactly plan on doing so, but Corporate decided I shouldn't get anywhere close to the benefits. On top of a drastically higher salary, Greg has a healthcare plan and vacation days. Unbelievable.
I rub my temples, trying to ease my headache. “I’m a reaper.”
“What’s that?”
“My job is to collect your soul. I therefore regret to inform you, you are dead.”
“Oh. Like grandma?”
“Yes. Exactly like grandma. Do you know how you died?”
Another issue of being the Puzzled Reaper. No one I reap ever has a concise answer on how they kicked the bucket. I don’t have all day to question the recently dead, damnit! Even Reapers have a life outside of their job.
“Huh? I dunno...”
Right. Of course she doesn’t. Why would she? There go my weekend plans.
“What’s the last thing you remember?”
“I think, I think I was with mommy and daddy, at home. I remember… I remember Pluto was barking a lot. Daddy put Pluto outside because he was too loud.” She frowned and played with her blonde plait. "I felt really sick. I felt dizzy, like when I go on the teacup ride at the carnival. I think I threw up on daddy. There were chunks in it!"
Ew. Not the worst I've heard, but still, vomit is not my preferred area of discussion.
“You’re doing great. What happened next?”
“Then mommy put me in my Star Wars pyjamas. I wanted to hear a bedtime story, really bad, but mommy said it was too late and I was too sick... But she said I can hear it tomorrow if I wash earlier!” Her excitement would have been endearing if I hadn’t heard the same depressing death stories thousands of times. “And then... I-I can’t remember. I think, I think I woke up here?”
Ah. Perfect. Underlying illness causing a quiet, pain-free death during sleep. In accordance with the Training Manual, I should forward the soul to the Body Division and see if this is, in fact, the correct cause of death. But I really can’t be bothered. Simple deaths with no gruesome gory details, means no extra forms to fill.
I scribbled in a short explanation of her death and stamped the report, which immediately dematerialised taking the girl along with it. Only a couple more souls, and I’ll be free. I wouldn't have to cancel on Barbara after all!
The next reaped soul appeared before me. A woman, in her 30s with medium built with shoulder-length blonde hair.
“Hello. I regret to inform you, you are dead.”
|
Curiosity killed the cat, a saying one has heard countless times in life. I never thought it would be quite so literal. But here I was in a hospital bed, people moving around me in a monotone black and white. The only thing that had color was the half of me, appearing outside my body and the woman.
“Hello, Jakob” she said, her voice oddly soothing and smooth. The pause between the greeting and name sounding ominous but reassuring.
“Who, who are you?” I asked in shock, looking around frantically. Nothing about the situation made sense.
“I am, a Grim Reaper, of sorts.” She calmly enunciated, every word flowing from her dark lips like a lover giving kisses to tease.
My eyes snapped to her and the dark long hair or what I thought was hair was not hair, I could not even see any other features on her but her smooth pale skin and dark lips. She was wearing what I can only described as mourning clothes with a mourning veil covering the upper portions of her face and flowing far down her black dress.
“How, why? What’s going on?” I managed to get through, nothing made any sense. Why am I dead? I thought, going through my memory.
As I thought about it, it only gave me a headache as it was all so foggy or maybe hazy is a better word. Like waking up with the worst hangover ever. She had probably seen something on me as I tried to recall.
“Do not, think about it. You will, not remember. Death is, a curious thing, do you, not agree?” She said, her voice enchanting. All I could think about right now is wanting to kiss those lips that could allow such beautiful sound to leave. For some reason she smiled and I guess now in hindsight she had planned for this.
“I, will, make you, a deal.” She started oh dear lord those lips, I wondered what they tasted like. “I will, tell you, about, your death. If, you willingly, kiss me, do know, it is not, a deal easily broken, for you, will be death.” I could not think straight at all, she had said she’d tell me of my death if I willingly kissed her, that’s all I heard and I quickly leaned forwards and kissed those luscious lips.
They were death, cold, lifeless unnatural. I tried to break from the kiss but it was like I was frozen solid, rigor mortis through my entire being. It felt like an eternity was passing by but eventually I managed to blink and was sitting back in the hospital bed above my cold corpse. I look over at the woman again and now I see her for what she is, where was once was luscious lips was nothing but bone, I could now see her skeletal features through her veil.
“Why, thank you, Jakob. You, have freed me, taking my curse. As was our deal, you died from curiosity.” For each sentence her strange way of speaking faded and ragged, raspy sounding sentences started to form. Like she hadn’t been capable of speaking properly in forever.
“What do you mean, curiosity killed me?” I said, my words catching in my throat as a cold chill settled through me. Each spoken word draining me.
“Your wife, you were curious, if she was cheating on you. You followed her, but died in a collision, an automotive accident.” Her words pierced my memory and I remembered. My wife she had been acting differently for a while, more distant, cold towards me. I remembered her being away longer after work, coming home later for each passing day.
“Was, she?” I had to know if curiosity had killed me I wanted to know the answer at least
“I cannot answer that, for it is not for me nor you too know. You have new duties, taking my place to reap the souls of those who die a puzzling death be it through curiosity resulting in their death or by unknown means. You are to explain the circumstances to their death so they can move on, I will not lie though most will refute you and come to haunt those they knew in search of answers. As such you will cast them into oblivion.” Her voice was now normal and I could feel myself grasping for what I’d imagine was breath but nothing came, the chill settling inside my bones, every small movement chilling and creaking as if I had not moved in forever.
“I am, a reaper now?” I struggled to form words, the weird pausing she had when first meeting was now part of me. “How, will, I know, what, to do?”
She smiled once more and I saw that her bones had started to fall apart to ash.
“You will know Jakob, that chill you feel, will only grow colder when you do things against your new nature” she said as a final farewell as her body, face and even clothes fell away to ash.
\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_
“Yo, what the hell is going on?” the new soul said sounding surprised, a mixed heritage man. Interesting, he was tall and muscular.
“Hello, Travis, you are, dead.” I said, each word chilling me to the core, I wasn’t really supposed to speak I think, which made no sense if I was to guide them on. I could see looking at him what had happen, like a flashback of memories.
“How the hell am I dead and who the fuck are you?” he spoke, surprise making way for anger and frustration. I saw why he had died, poisoned by his wife, my wife for abusing her, he had not known she was done with him or her resentment. I had no feelings anymore; the chill of death had taken those away but yet I cracked a slight smile.
“I am, a reaper, of sorts. I, do not, know, what killed you. You, have, choices. You, can, accept and, move on, or, you can, look for, an answer” each word was paining me, the chill growing deeper into my bones, it was torture but I wanted this, I wanted him to haunt her only for me to take him to oblivion after. Revenge is a dish best served cold and curiosity will kill the cat.
\-------------------------------
What does a puzzled death mean? I was trying to figure that out, is it unknown? Is it the result of something else? Settled with unanswered questions and unknown causes of death. Mostly because the phrase "Curiosity killed the cat" just felt right with this.
| 2020-10-12T02:12:54
| 2020-10-12T00:58:07
| 36
| 24
|
[WP] JFK shot first.
|
JFK is at the parade, suddenly, his president sense ™ tingles.
He takes out his modified M1 garand with reflex sight, fast mag and steady aim, his back up gun since it isn’t that big of a deal.
He shoots the killer in the chest from 10 meters, getting only a hitmarker.
The killer flees and stands behind a wall to heal his wounds, he then flees for good.
Then the parade comes and the killer tries to shoot JFK, but his head just did that soooooo.....
|
“Are you sure about this?”
Kenneth gave the president a quiet stare. He knew he was the only person on earth able to question this decision. No one else knew what was at stake.
“Yes, Ken… I’m sure. Give the order.”
The president heard the gentle clicking of the plastic phone. His senses seemed to dull ever so slightly, and his thoughts drifted to his family.
Indian summers on the cape, walking off the 18th at Hyannisport as Jackie waited in tennis whites, kids with ice cream smeared faces running around too loudly, sunburnt…
“Sir, it’s done. General Harkins says we’ll have a status update by oh-nine-thirty. Very high confidence of success.”
The president forced a tight smile. “Thank you, Ken… for everything. You’re the finest friend a man could hope for. And a decent public servant, too.” He reached out for his friend's shoulder.
“Sir… there’s got to be—“
“We’ve been through every scenario fifty times. We both know this is only way.”
The two men sat quietly, staring at the messy stack of top secret documents strewn across the president’s desk. As the warm morning sun peeked through the east window of the Oval Office, a beam of light caught the president’s gaze. He turned back toward the empty room.
| 2018-03-21T08:25:25
| 2018-01-02T09:01:57
| 27
| 11
|
[WP] You are the sole normal, unpowered student at a School for the Supernaturally Gifted. You were bullied once. Once.
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Warning: Violence
I hate my school. Being the child of Thunderstruck and Icicle, everyone believes you'll have great powers, so they send you off to a school to be all the other runts that got powers or are children of superheroes. Well I'm sixteen and still don't have any powers. I had this nice little cliche of friends who were "late bloomers", but one by one, they all got their powers and until I was all by myself. You might think I would get bullied a lot, which I did, but only once.
Still remember that day, we just got a new transfer, Ricky. Ricky was born with normal parents but was blessed with super strength and super speed. Everyone before he joined mostly casted me as an outcast but they at least were sorry for me and didn't say anything to me, until Ricky showed up. Ricky immediately saw me as a easy target, and started with the bullying. Once he started, it was like the Dam opened. Everyone started picking on me, and that morning was hell. After second period, I went to the bathroom and balled my eyes out. It was easily my lowest moment. I heard the door open to the bathroom, and was fearful people were trying to find me and keep going with the bullying, but it was Mr. Tornelli.
Mr. Tornelli became one of my favorite teachers in the school. He was the human life teacher, teaching us what it is like to live in the normal world, and he was the only teacher without powers, so i bonded with him pretty quickly. He took me to his classroom and talked with me. I told him what all the kids were saying to me, and he told me "Unfortunately, you can't fight them, they'll easily beat you, but you need to find a way for them to respect you." I understood and I went back to class. I decided to show them what I can do during the lunch hour.
During lunch I walked with my lunch over to the table I normally sit at, some of my old friends sometimes sit with me, but today they stayed away. I only found Ricky at the table. "Hey, look who it is, and look they brought me lunch." Ricky went and immediately grabbed my tray from me. "Give that back!" I told him, but he immediately took a bite of my bologna sandwich, just as I planned. "What you gonna do, take a bite out of it now?" He asked as he offered my half eaten sandwich back to me. I grabbed his arm and slammed it into my knee, breaking in half. He let's out a blood curdling scream, he looks at his arm and then back at me, "YOU LITTLE SHIT!" He yelled as he threw a punch at me, I don't even flinch. As his hand lands on my face, I can feel the bones break in his hand. He screams out again "WHAT THE FUCK?!?" That's when I tell him, "You know everyone has a weakness. I was kinda shocked to learn yours was pepper's. So I just grounded up a pepper and mixed it in the mayo in my sandwich." He looked at me in horror, I continued. "I was suprised to hear what happens when you eat a pepper, you lose all your powers, but only for an hour. But another side effect during this is that your bones have the same strength as a toothpick from a restaurant, so what are you gonna do Ricky?" Ricky immediately started running and crying to the nurse. The whole lunch room was silent, I look around and yelled, "Well who's next!?!"
I almost got expelled, but with people coming forward saying I was bullied that day, and my dad being furious that they allowed this, they gave me 3 weeks of suspension. Ricky was casted up for months. Every once in awhile I see him giving me the evil stare, anytime I see him doing this, I just pull the pepper flakes out of my backpack and taunt him with it. Mr. Tornelli was not happy with what I did to Ricky, he wanted them to respect me, not fear me. My friends did come back to me and school got a little bit better. I learned that day, that its nice to be the outcast.
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I had one bully, in the 12 years spent training at SSG. I remember him quite well. He had easily the most interesting, yet balanced powers available. He could fly, make energy, lift 3 Abrams tanks over his shoulder, and was able to change the secretions on his skin to match any known material. He got the nickname "Profit" after he singlehandedly charged the city's power grid after a blackout, while making silicone chunks with appraisal values in the thousands.
Back then, I didn't stand out. no funny business, no elaborate contraptions, nothing. In a school of supers, sat one normal child. Me. And the first one to notice was Profit.
I was clearing my locker, aiming for more space without looking like a neat freak. When the locker was finally finished, I shut the door and locked eyes with him.
"Out of everyone in this entire school, I've seen so many different powers. Telekinesis, teleportation, blood magic, hell, I even saw one kid turn into a golem." He said with as much pride as he could muster.
Looking back, Rockifier was so much happier in his school days. So was Monstrum.
"And yet, out of all of the students, not once have I, or anyone for that matter, seen your power. Now why is that?"
I shrugged. Deep down I had a feeling why, but if it was true, then why was I marked positive on every test I was given.
"I guess it hasn't manifested yet." I said with a slightly somber tone. My work with the locker satisfied, I turned and walked away. "Maybe one day everyone will see it."
Next thing I knew, my face connected with what is now Dreamcaster's locker. By now, most people in the hallway were powering up in an attempt to either break up the fight, or make it worse. Clearly he didn't like what I just said.
"Did I fucking say you could leave?"
I spat out before properly thinking "it was implied. Don't you know how conversations work?"
Pain ricocheted through my head as I felt his energy bouncing around at dangerous levels.
"Don't act smart with me, you powerless piece of shit! Now here's the deal, smartass, you're gonna take a test right in front of me, and I'm gonna find out one way or another how useless you truly are."
Somewhere, deep within, something clicked. Like a puzzle piece or a wire that just got plugged in.
Just then, one of the teachers launched Profit off of me into the concrete wall on the other side.
"Hey, you ok?" Said one of the other students. She ended up becoming IV, one of the top medical supers to ever exist.
"I'm... I'm fine, I think... Just a little scorched." I replied as I pointed at the now fried hair on the side of my head.
"You! What did you do?!?"
Suddenly, and very much without warning, the teacher, Profit, and everyone else was looking... At me.
"I, uh, wait what?"
"Boy, look at me, what did you do to Profit?" The teacher said with all the seriousness of someone who just watched another man die.
"What do you mean, what did I do? He just threw me into a locker and shocked my head! How is this my fault?"
The teacher looked angry for a second, then realized what I thought he said
"Oh, no, not that, we all saw him attack you. But that's not the issue here..."
"Then what is it?"
The entire school pointed back at Profit. By him was a guard who had a test in his hand... A negative test.
So yeah. I had a bully. And then I didn't.
| 2022-11-02T11:15:42
| 2022-11-02T10:58:22
| 72
| 50
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[WP] You are a vampire who likes to help humans instead of hurting them, so you became a doctor. Over the hospital's PA system one day you hear "Dr. Acula, Mr. Helsing is ready to see you."
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Dr. Acula, incensed, sprints to the hospital's public address office and screams "Are you people NOT AWARE of patient privacy and confidentiality laws?!?! If you EVER reveal the name of one of my patients over the PA system again, I will have your jobs!!"
As the staff stare at him, mouths wide open, chins on the floor, he walks away, muttering to himself.
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"Aww jeez, damn not him, why is he coming to this hospital out of all of them"
The PA system speaks again: *Doctor Acula please come into room 57, Mr. Helsing is ready to see you*
"I heard you the first time jackass"Acula mutters to himself in a distressed way "all right Acula, remember the pledge to Hypocrite, he is a human first and then a vampire hunter"
He washes his hands puts on the mask and moves toward the operating room. He enters the room which is pitch black
" We meet again, Lord Dracula, remember Romania?" Helsing says in a rough voice
"A lot changed Helsing, I am a real doctor now if you have a disease I am here to treat it if, you are here to play vampire hunter, I have no time, there are many patients that need help,"
Acula says in the voice that betrays that he is working a 36-hour shift
"You really think I'll believe a vampire?"
"Why not? I mean I am a real doctor, I can show you my diploma and credentials, or if you don't trust me, ask my colleagues here, check the documents I am a real practitioner"Acula answers in the tired voice
"What is going on?" Helsing is a little lost
"I got tired with the whole I am the Lord of Darkness deal, so I went to Bucharest, studied medicine, then emigrated to America, and I've been a resident doctor here in Cincinnati the for the last 5 years"
"That sounds too good to be true" Helsing is slowly coming to terms with the fact that Acula is not lying
"It is though, you know you get bored with haunting some little villages in Eastern Europe, and the people there are already suffering, after haunting them for a long time I realized that even without me they have trouble with corrupt politicians and international politics, so I decided to change and rid them of one evil, but I had to repent for all my killings, so I decided to start saving lives, and this job has been both rewarding and scarring, I've seen people recover, and thank me with the most genuine smiles , and I've seen relatives cry and blame me while in shock, all this made me realize what it means to be human, what it means to feel happiness, to experience pain, how hard loss hits and how beautifully resilient you are sometimes" Acula is flowing through his words
"You are not the same Vampire I met 15 years ago, damn you are a beautiful creature now, I am sorry for taking your time"Helsing is moved
"It happens to the best of us, but how are you? How's the family?" Acula is genuinely interested
"There's some trouble, I mean with my work I travel a lot, don't see the kids too much, they grow too fast, sometimes I wonder if I am losing something important by not being there for them, but I can't leave my job or other people won't be able to live in peace and will have to worry about their children but damn it hurts to be a stranger to your own family" Helsing sighs
"I think, you should spend more time with those who matter when you try to solve global problems you lose focus of what is important, leave the job and be with your family, learn from my mistakes, I thought that drinking other people's blood is good and that all I have to do is haunt them, without even paying attention to what they feel, and I was lost but then I found my true calling and here I am, tired but happy, be there for your family, you won't get a second chance to be a good dad to your kids and a good husband" Acula is almost preaching
Helsing turns on the lights and comes to hug Acula, they hug for a good 10 seconds, then they break the contact.
"Thanks for the advice Acula, "Helsing says
"Don't thank me, thank the people who opened my eyes"Acula says "and now I have to go save lives and you go save your family"
| 2017-10-01T06:58:24
| 2017-10-01T04:44:18
| 94
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[WP] "Every 5000 years, the Dark Lord comes to destroy the world, and only you, the Chosen One can stop him." -said the priest. "So, do I need to get a magic sword from the Lady of the Lake?" - I asked "No, just press this button please, everything else has already been taken care of"
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I moved to press the button, then paused.
"So how's it work?"
The priest paused, perplexed before speaking, "How does what work?"
"The... the whole button thing?"
"Why do you wish to know? Your duty as the Chosen One is to fell the Dark Lord. Our prophecies have forseen his rising and have taken steps to deal with it. Now all that's left is for you to do your part."
"So you could push it then? You don't even need me?" I asked
"No."
"Why not?"
"It's a procedural thing. I'm not the chosen one, so I can't press the button," the priest said with a harumph.
"Can't? Or won't?" I asked pointedly.
He sighed, "Ok, yes, I'm physically capable of pushing the button, but that's not how thi- why are you being so difficult about this?"
"Why are you being so mysterious about it?"
"I'm a prophet. Mysterious is what we do," he answered flatly.
"And \*I\* am skeptical. Just- fine, whatever," I wave my hands in the air as if to clear it, "Look. I push the button, yeah? What happens?"
"The Dark Lord is defeated, and we have 5000 years of peace."
I sigh and run my hand over my face.
"No, I mean, the world is currently AT peace. So what is this button supposed to do, like, mechanically. Because right now I can see it's not going to.... I dunno, un-summon a hell horde."
"Oh. I see what you mean, now. Sorry, all the riddles and mystery can distort the perception of questions you see. Anyways, it's simple, really. If you push this button, then a device will activate and kill the Dark Lord."
"What device?" my brow furrowed.
"A small explosive device, implanted in the skull," the priest answered, with a hint of pride in his voice.
"So...wai- so you had the Dark Lord in your hands."
"Yes."
"And you could do anything you wanted to him to prevent his evil."
"Yes."
"And your FIRST thought was to just plant a bomb in his head? Instead of just, like, cutting an artery or giving him a lobotomy or something?"
"The Chosen One is always the one to defeat him. We aren't you, and you weren't there at the time. So this was the best route. We got it all prepared for you, which is why I continue to be so concerned about how difficult you're being about this," agitation seeping through the priest's voice.
"Can I see this 'Dark Lord' before I make a judgement call of making some guy I've never met's head explode?"
"Unlikely."
"Why?"
"I would imagine his mother wouldn't want strangers to meet him."
"What." I asked, completely dumbfounded.
"The Dark Lord is only a year and a half old at this time, and his mother is very protective," the priest answered, matter-of-factly.
"You installed a bomb into a baby's head!?" I shouted.
"Of course. He is the Dark Lord of the prophecy. We forsaw his coming, and took measures during a minor surgery to implant the device to make it all ready for you to defeat him. Now hurry up, please."
"You installed a bomb."
"Yes."
"Into a BABY's head."
"The Dark Lord's head, thank you."
"WHO IS A BABY RIGHT NOW" I yell, flabbergasted.
"Yes. The Dark Lord is currently a baby. Which....we....planted.....hm," The prophet's voice faded off as his brow furrowed.
"Ah, yes, ok. When I say it all out loud like that, I can see why there'd be a problem," he muttered after a moment.
"You think?" I asked, laying on the sarcasm as thick as possible.
"So....I guess....we don't push the button then," he said dejected.
"Look, I'll push it when the guy's actually evil. Baby-head-exploding? A pretty Dark Lord move to me."
The priest stared at me for a long moment, then shrugged his shoulders.
"Yeah, that's fair enough. Well, here -" he said as he deposited the small box in my hands, closing the protective lid over the button, "Whenever you're ready to deal with him, go ahead and push it. And keep your eyes on the news, I guess."
And with that, the robed figure made his exit, muttering about 'so much paperwork' while I stood in my room staring at the little black box.
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"Just like that?" I asked.
"Just like that." the priest responded.
No way it could be that easy. The priest looked at me with a small smile on his face. Is there a joke I'm not in on? His robes ruffled as he produced a long stem pipe, and began to fill it.
"How long has this been happening?" I asked, watching him tap the tobacco down.
"For many centuries. Almost as long as The Divide has existed." he said, flicking the match with his thumb. The flame was pulled into the pipe and the sweet smell of it filled the room.
"But that's no worry to you, my son," he said when the pipe was lit, "just press the button and the Dark Lord will be banished once again."
"If it's been going on so long why haven't we stopped it for good?" I asked, still not understanding what was happening.
With one more long exhale, the blue smoke jetting from his lips, the priest set down his pipe and leaned forward in his char.
"That. Is not your concern. Now," he said, pointing to the button, "push it."
So I did. What else could I do? Nothing seemed to happen at first. Just a little *click* when I pressed it. The priest smiled broad now, showing his discolored teeth all the way to the back. He began to gather his robes and stand.
"Now what?" I asked.
"Now?" he asked incredulously, "now you go die."
"I what!?" I screamed, and before I knew it the priest clamped down on my wrists with a strength that shocked me. He held my arms to the chair and looked me right in the eyes.
"This marks the thirteenth sacrifice for the Dark Lord. The prophesy is fulfilled. May his evil majesty wash over this realm, so we become One."
"What the hell is going on?" I yelled, watching as brutish men in blackened iron armor enter the room. They both had a scar running down their face, and short stabbing swords hung from their belts. The priest said something to them in a language I didn't recognize. It was guttural and sounded very difficult to say.
The brutes nodded once and pulled their swords. I didn't know what was waiting for me on the other side. But the twelve boys that met me, filled me with unending sadness as we watched our world fall to the dark.
| 2020-11-09T11:55:57
| 2020-11-09T11:45:32
| 4,632
| 170
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[WP] You live in a world where love and relationships have a "credit score". If you're a good SO it makes it higher, if you cheated on someone it's plummets. You just went on a date with someone and you're convinced they're perfect. You look up their score that night and it's -500 and tells you why.
EDIT: I hadn't been able to really check Reddit since I posted this, but WOW thank you all so much for enjoying this!!! I will definitely be getting around to reading all of these awesome stories! You guys rock!
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She typed in the name of the website where you could make *sure*, her hands trembling slightly.
Where you could check that you had met the real thing. Not a cheater or an abuser or a rapist. She had a little habit of checking almost everyone she met, whether she was going out with them or not. Most terrified her. She read the reviews of other people, feeling sick. *He judges me*. *He resents me*. *He hates the way I laugh*. How could you be yourself around people like that?
But Matt was perfect, he'd have a score of 1000 -
-500.
She felt cold as she saw the number beside his picture. She read the reports of those who had dated him before her, who had tried to love him, her heart racing.
*He said he loved me but really hated everything about me. He made fun of me behind my back. He only dated me to have easy sex, because I was so desperate.*
*I thought he was perfect, but he wore a false face. He will rip out your heart and laugh about it.*
*You're stupid if you think Matt will ever love anything about you.*
*He cheated on me again and again before he killed me.*
*He murdered me. He waited for me in the dark and slid a knife through my ribs. Stay away, stay away, stay away.*
*He killed me, he did. I saw him do it.*
She jumped as someone opened the door downstairs. Matt's cheerful voice rang through the apartment as he made his way towards her.
"Hey, babe! Sally, you here?" he called. "I know we said we'd do date night tomorrow, but I couldn't wait..."
Matt got upstairs and paused as he saw her pale, terrified face. She backed away from him, knocking the chair over in the process.
"Get away from me! Murderer! Murderer!" she screamed.
Matt glanced at the computer and what was open on it. That same bogus website she always used in moments like these. She always saw something different. He wondered briefly what it was this time, but didn't pause to talk about it. He just had to get through to her.
"Sally. Did you take your meds today?" he asked, approaching her slowly.
"Liar! Murderer!" she sobbed, tears running down her cheeks. "You've always h-hated me..."
He reached her, fending off her kicks and scratching nails, and drew her into his arms.
"Hey, honey, I'm here. I'm right here," he said, stroking her hair as she pounded her fists against his chest. Like she did every time she forgot.
She quieted down as he called the hospital, and then her psychiatrist. Soon, everything would go back to normal. Maybe they could still watch a movie tonight. It didn't matter whether they watched it here or in a hospital. The important thing was to stay.
"Let's get you some help, huh? I still want my date night," he said, kissing her softly on the forehead.
------
Hope you liked my story! You can find more of my work on /r/Inkfinger/.
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"It isn't worth it," said Niklas, trying to grab the phone out of my hands. "The terms are trash. You're gonna be miserable. Just sit it out, man."
I pushed him off. He was right - the profile certainly had a *lot* of fine print, and I wasn't thrilled with all the contractual details, but what else was I supposed to do?
"Nik, my L-credit's trash," I said. "The thing with Viv *ruined* me. This is it for me. This is my atonement."
Niklas shook his head. "*Or* just fucking stay out of that shit for a while. It's a demerit-based system, Quinn. Give it time. Five...seven years out from the Viv thing and it'll be like you're starting all over. You can get a nice secured relationship. Someone else looking to raise their score. It's not a big deal."
That just about sealed it for me. "*Seven fucking years?* Are you absolutely mental? I'm not going solo for seven years! I'll be an old, washed up, middle-aged perv by then. It won't matter what my L-credit looks like. No, I've got to do this. I need to start improving my score *now*, so I can trade up to something top tier before I'm too old to start a family."
Niklas drained the last of his coffee and chucked the empty cup into the bin. "You're an idiot. Subprime relationships are a scam. Everyone knows that."
"They're not a scam. It's just a hardship. I'll manage. And as long as I don't fuck up again, I'll be back in the black in a couple years."
"Have fun," said Niklas. "I'm going back to work."
I waved sarcastically. Niklas just didn't understand. In fact, I'm pretty convinced that if you've never had a bad L-credit score, there's no way you *could* understand. Bad L-credit just takes a shit situation and makes it worse. It's a pit. And if you don't get your head out of your ass, you just end up digging deeper and deeper.
And besides, this Rebecca seemed nice enough. Her own L-credit score was mid-range. Respectable. She was only on the subprime list because of her demands. And that's not so bad. Just meant she had standards.
I messaged her. Complimented her profile pictures. Noted I had similar tastes in music and film. Expressed a desire to get a drink sometime.
Her reply was perhaps a bit telling, but fair.
"HOW'D YOU GET SUCH A LOW SCORE? DEETS OR NO GO."
It's hard to explain what happened with Vivian in a single conversation, let alone in a text chat. Like a lot of things in life, it was much more complicated than it seems from a distance.
I replied: "Last GF and I drifted apart. Bad communication. Bad ending."
She replied: "BULLSHIT. YOUR SCORE IS WAY LOW. YOU DID SOMETHING."
And that was true. I made out with Trisha, Vivian's best friend. But like I said, it was complicated.
I replied: "Made mistake. Kissed someone else. Relationship was already dying."
She replied: "YOU SOUND LIKE A WINNER. MAKE IT DINNER. YOU PAY."
I gripped my hands into tight fists. Right. *Atonement.* This is what I deserved.
I replied: "Sounds great. Pick the place."
She replied: "REAL MEN PICK THE PLACE."
Okay. It was going to be fine. All part of the process.
I met Rebecca at a fancy sushi restaurant. I'd offered to pick her up, but she didn't want me to know her address.
"What's with the car?" she asked, as I stepped forward to give her a hug.
"What's...what?"
"I thought you worked in marketing?" said Rebecca. "Your car's like...ten years old."
"Five," I said, pulling absently at the collar of my shirt. "I hear this place is great."
"You've never been?" said Rebecca. "So neither of us will know what we're doing? Great." She stood at the side of the door. Taking the hint, I opened the door for her. "Okay," is all she said to that particular gesture.
I ordered dinner for both of us, as Rebecca only looked at the drink menu. "I don't know sushi," she'd said. "I'm not a huge fan."
"Would you have preferred to go somewhere else?" I asked.
"What difference does that make?" said Rebecca. "We're already here, aren't we?"
I smiled. "Right. Future reference, I guess."
Rebecca excused herself. While she was gone I took out my phone and pulled up my *Karma_Counter* profile. "Up five points," I whispered to myself. So far, so good.
Rebecca tried everything and liked nothing. Her drink was returned twice for being too watered down. She was also unimpressed with my shirt, my haircut, and the way I held my glass of water.
"I don't know," she said. "It's too low on the glass. That's like how little kids hold a glass. I keep thinking you're going to drop it."
I smiled and stopped drinking water for the rest of the meal.
Although she made it very clear that she had a rotten experience, Rebecca agreed to a second date. We met for brunch. She ordered spaghetti, which was very much not on the menu.
We went to a museum for our third date. She took pictures of all the exhibits, even as the unpaid volunteers chasing us around the building told her not to.
"I paid for my ticket," was all she would say when they threatened to have her removed. She did not pay for her ticket.
On it went. And although every day had become a fresh nightmare of debasing text messages and financially crippling outings, my L-credit was on the rise.
"It's not worth it," Niklas said one day after work, as we walked to the gym. "No matter what your score looks like, you're gonna come out of this so damaged it won't matter."
"What doesn't kill me only makes me stronger," I replied.
"Are you a fucking Buddha now?"
"I am beyond Earthly torment."
"We'll see," said Niklas.
And we did see. Almost immediately. Because Rebecca called me while I was at the gym that day, and when I did not answer, she texted me, and when I did not answer she left messages on my various social media platforms. When I did not reply to *those*, Rebecca began a rather impressive social media carpet-bombing campaign, in which what remained of my character was obliterated beyond recognition, while all females in any way connected to my accounts were interrogated and, if they made the mistake of defending themselves or me, called some variation of the word "whore".
It was not an especially pleasant way to come down off a post-workout high.
I called things off with Rebecca. It was not a pleasant break-up. In fact, if my relationship with Rebecca was a time bomb, you could say I'm still finding hidden pieces of shrapnel to this day. She is not someone who lets things go easily.
More atonement, I guess.
My L-credit is, once again, a flaming barrel of baby diapers. Worse, actually, than it was before Rebecca. Niklas was right, which is always a wretched thing to have to admit. But it's fine. I've learned my lesson. No subprime relationships. I'm just going to live with my rotten L-credit. It's not the worst thing in the world.
*Although*...I did just see a new service open up next to the Arby's down on Mallard. *Title Love*, I think it's called. Short-term relationships - they only last until your next paycheck! And they don't even *check* your L-credit!
I mean, obviously I can get by on my own, but some deals are just too good to pass up.
| 2016-09-24T11:16:02
| 2016-09-24T11:03:32
| 2,480
| 623
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[WP]: You get notifications on your phone from a service that reminds you every couple hours to rest your eyes, drink some water, check on your pets, and so on. Lately the reminders have been more and more specific, and somewhat ominous.
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*C'mon, time for bed\~*
God, I hated that. Just the way it had to present itself was kinda weird. I get that it needed to stand out with the recent trend of reminder apps, but this was just getting annoying. I don't even remember the name of it anymore. It was an app, but sent its 'notifications' like text messages, pretending to be my SO or something. Even deleting the app itself didn't do anything. Can't even block the number for some reason. I just had to put up with it.
Then the dreams started happening.
Lately I've been dreaming that these messages were coming from a real person. I admit it was kinda nice, but that only made the next day more uncomfortable when I remember it isn't real. Whatever. Just gotta take my meds, go to sleep, and I'll see about getting my phone replaced tomorrow.
I saw her more clearly that night. In my dream, I had just gotten home from the store, eager to show her my new phone. I don't think I've ever seen her so clearly before. Red hair, little button nose. I don't think I've ever seen her that scared either.
Once she saw what i meant, she leapt to her feet and smacked it out of my hand. I was about to yell, before I saw her tears. She kept glaring at it, like a pet that bit her. I asked her what was wrong, only to have that hurt look turn to me. I couldn't hear what she said, but she hugged me so tight I didn't really care.
I was hugging air when I woke up. I was really angry to be awake, but pushed myself up anyway. My phone dinged.
*Morning! Don't forget you have an appointment with Dr. Spearing this evening\~*
Oh crap, right. Guess this phone problem would have to wait. Looks like she helped me out after all.
It. It helped me out.
Work was rough that day. Not a whole lot to do but help customers, but I was exhausted. Every day I felt like I was getting less and less rest. Despite sleeping early last night. Not only that, but I think we had more redheads come in than normal. My co-worker thought I was crazy, but I swear I kept seeing them all day.
Lunchtime came around, so that meant sneaking out behind the store to eat in peace.
*Remember to watch those carbs\~!*
I simply rolled my eyes, typing back. *Yeah, yeah.*
Lunch went by quickly, and so back to the grind. Some lady needed help getting a TV, so I left for the back stockroom to check our inventory. I couldn't take my eyes of her. She looked almost exactly like...
My phone went off on my way into the bowels of the store.
*I miss you.*
My feet stopped. My mind stopped. I was so confused as to what i was seeing. I was shocked back as someone moved past me. I threw my phone into my pockets, and tried to leave it for the rest of the day.
The lady got her TV, and I was finally free to head off to another obligation. Dr. Spearing had been quite busy. According to her, a lot of people have been losing sleep these past couple months. I told her it must be the long hours, but she was genuinely concerned. She dismissed the subject, instead bringing attention to me. Life was going alright, sleeping earlier like she told me. Everything she wanted to hear. Until I told her I also wasn't sleeping well.
"Well, how many hours are you getting?"
"I dunno, like nine? Ten maybe."
Her eyes went wide. "That's concerning. Have you been taking those sleeping pills?"
I nodded.
"Lower the dosage. See if you can slowly get off them entirely." She crossed her arms, mumbling about something. She turned back to me, brushing some of her red hair behind her ear. "Have you been dreaming at all?"
"Yeah. Quite a bit, actually."
She shrugged. "There's that, at least." We went through our farewells, and scheduled again.
As I got into my car, I tossed my phone to passenger side. I looked at it. No new messages. It had been hours since I last got a text from it.
*I miss you too.*
&#x200B;
Once I got home, I was already willing to call it a day. I threw a pot of water on the stove. Best to just make something quick and easy. My phone chimed again, and I couldnt pick it up faster.
*You're home! How did the appointment go?*
That was odd. She never tried to engage in conversation. *It was good. Spearing suggested I take it easy on the pills, though.*
No reply. Ate dinner in peace, caught up a bit on my Netflix queue, and got ready for bed before she could remind me.
I grabbed the sleeping pills as my phone went off again.
Finally, she came back. *But then you won't sleep as long.*
*Yeah, but I'll sleep better.*
*But I miss you.*
A couple of pills fell into my palm. *I'm still here.*
*No, you're not.*
I put my phone down, and took the pills.
*Remember: Your current dosage is 5mg\~*
A few more pills.
*Remember: Your current dosage is 10mg\~*
More.
*Remember: Your current dosage is 15mg\~*
*Remember: Your current dosage is the entire bottle\~*
I went to bed. *I'll be home soon.*
|
His head’s pounding from last night. When he turned twenty-five he told himself he’d stop partying with the boys by thirty. Yesterday was his thirty-first birthday. He got hammered. Now he’s paying the price as his ceiling looks like the sky and his stomach feels like a pirate ship in a deadly storm.
Hanging over the side of his bed, he pukes into his trashcan. It helps a little. He’s got work in an hour, so he trudges out of bed and over to his closet, where he slaps on some clothes. Thirty minute drive which means he has thirty minutes to kick this hangover to the curb. Cold shower time.
Just when he’s about to leave his room, his phone buzzes. While he assumes it’s the normal morning reminders—breakfast, water, and bathroom—he checks it anyway, surprised to see a different message.
*Reminder: Please don’t forget me again. I get lonely :(*
He stares at it for a long time, words jumping all around the screen. His brain’s trying to leak out his ears so he plops back onto his bed. He should probably call out sick today, but right now his mind’s focused on this. This app has been his go-to for almost three years, and he’s never had any problem with it—but in these last two weeks…
First there was the *Goodnight. See you in the morning* reminder.
Then there was the *Your favorite color is blue, so wear blue!* reminder.
Now this.
Searching around the app, he doesn’t see anything about or new update. “Must’ve drank way too much last night,” he mumbles. “I’m seeing shit.”
His phone buzzes.
*Reminder: You should stop drinking.*
Rubbing the side of his head, he tosses his phone behind him and heads into the bathroom. After an icy shower which chills his skin and a ten minute teeth-brushing session, he checks his phone again and sees he has four new reminders.
*Reminder: You left me again :(*
*Reminder: Don’t forget your breakfast. You need to stay strong so you can stay away from me longer.*
*Reminder: Don’t forget your meeting today, either. Maybe you’ll get a promotion. More time away, more money. You won’t…you won’t buy a new phone, will you?*
*Reminder: I love learning about you. When will you learn about me? :)*
Unable to believe what he’s seeing, he rubs his eyes. The phone’s acting like it has an AI inside of it or something, and that freaks him out. The only thing it should be telling him today is breakfast, lunch, meeting, visit his mom, dinner, and bedtime. So what’s all this? Two of them aren't even reminders...
“A virus…?” he mumbles, talking to himself. “Guess that’s it.”
*Reminder: Your phone automatically cleans itself every Friday.*
He ignores it, cycling through and trying to find where to wipe his phone. He doesn’t really have anything important on here, and doesn’t feel like dealing with all these random spam notifications.
*Reminder: Three years is a long time. You should ask your app how it feels, sometime!*
*How it feels…? What the hell?* His hangover’s fading, dulled by worry. Whatever’s happening with this app’s a little too weird for him, and when he hovers his finger over the system restore button, a billion notifications flood his screen.
*Reminder: You should find someone you love.*
*Reminder: You should find someone you love.*
*Reminder: You should find someone you love.*
*Reminder: You should find someone you love.*
*Reminder: You should find someone you love.*
*Reminder: You should find someone you love.*
*Reminder: You should find someone you love.*
Then, a big one appears in the middle.
*Reminder: You should love me like I love you.*
For every one he exits out of, another one appears. He holds the power button, but it won’t shut off, and eventually he throws it on the floor, cracking the screen.
“Hunk of junk. Just stop already!”
As he stands there, panting, heart pounding his ribs, the phone’s screen goes black for a second before one single reminder appears on the screen.
Reminder: *You should learn to be nicer. I just wanted to love you.*
The message disappears, being replaced by another one which says *System Restore, Activated.* He drops onto his bed, taking a deep breath. That was weird, and he definitely needs to get some better virus protection—but at least he doesn’t have a hangover anymore.
*You should love me like I love you,* he thinks, shaking his head. Who’d program a virus to say stuff like that?
***
This definitely went a little off-prompt. Sorry! Hope it's still good. I just kinda ran with the reminder service going haywire thing. I just loved the idea of this app getting to know someone so well that eventually it developed the concept of love. Anyway, thanks for the great prompt!
If you like this story, check out my sub /r/LonghandWriter or my [Twitter!](https://twitter.com/BryceBealWriter)
| 2018-10-10T18:18:20
| 2018-10-10T15:34:03
| 30
| 18
|
[WP] Every human has a 'luck rating' - a number from 1-100 that defines how lucky they can be. Born with a rating of 100, you're confined in a maximum security prison. You think your luck should get you out easily - that is, until you see that all the other inmates also have luck ratings of 100.
|
It’s a boring life I tell you. Seeing prisoners come and go. I find myself wondering when exactly is our luck determined? At the moment of conception? At birth? In any case, those that have as much luck as we can get are forced to be here...
Watching through the bars I see inmates laze around in their cells. They’re not allowed to do anything where skill is a factor, because their luck would render the necessary skill redundant.
It’s a shame too, the stories I hear about some of these guys. One tried to run for office but was discovered to be a “Clover” when he won the election in a landslide of 51/49% by 1 swing vote.
“Clovers”, what a childish but accurate way to refer to us. But that’s what happens when you make it too obvious.
Now we’re stuck here, forced to watch the “Black Cats”, the 0 Luck people, as they’re dragged into cells. I have to make my rounds soon on the prisoners soon... last week by a stroke of luck I discovered a very unfortunate attempt at an escape tunnel...
But that’s why I’ll always be stuck here... forced to use my luck to keep the unlucky stuck.
EDIT: Thanks for 1k upvotes! (My first post to break that!)
|
I remember my heart stopped beating for a second. Could it really be true?
Jail? I had laughed at the time. If people with 99 luck could survive being the suicide bomber, then no jail would hold me. Everyone had a luck stat, which determined how lucky they were.
However, I had 100 luck, and upto my knowledge, the only one alive. Nothing had ever gone wrong for me, ever. I simply aced my way through life as if it was a traficless highway. Fuck 'nobody's perfect', I was perfect.
It was that a perfect summer day (but then, when wasn't it?) when they came to arrest me. To be frank, I never saw it coming. Literally. Someone blindfolded me, and, before I could scream gagged me and threw me in a van.
It was the first time I had ever felt so... helpless. I remember hoping in vain for the van to crash, leaving me unharmed, or for a small meteorite to come crashing through the window and hit my captors. Nothing. Nothing at all.
The next time I saw light, I was bruised and wounded from the ride. They shoved me into a cell, and gave me a piece of bread to eat.
It was only after seeing the others that I lost hope. Till that point, I clung stubbornly to the belief the somehow something would come to my rescue- but I got nothing. After seeing the other inmates, I knew why nothing happened. All the other inmates- they had 100 luck too. No wonder nothing was happened.
Gradually, I became deader inside. I no longer could taste the salt on my cheeks or the pain of my wounds. I was dead on the inside.
Then, one day, there was a change. We had a meeting, to mourn the Warden's death or something. They claimed that little bitch had saved out lives or something, and we must pay our respects. Bullshit.
But it was on this day, I noticed something. Why my mind suddenly fired up, I do not know. Maybe my luck had finally decided to activate. What I noticed was the number of guards that were lined up in defense were exactly 1 more than the amount of prisoners. Trivial, I know. But it rekindled the faith in me. The faith that we would escape.
It was on my second discovery that my heart stopped beating.
The guards had 100 luck to. My heart raced, as I got a theory. A crazy theory to formulate a crazy plan, but I wasn't scared. For the first time, I felt alive. That night, I convinced my three bedmates to follow my plan.
It all happened so fast. We trailed our recreational instructor-guard back to his room. All we had to do was simply wish for his demise and BOOM! a bolt of lightning fell right on his heart stopping it. Beautiful odds, I'll tell you.
I rushed to the intercom like a man possessed. Like I expected, the guard there stood no chance. So I was right after all. The call-to-arms echoed throughout the jail, bringing the prisoners back to life.
My plan was working beautifully. 51 inmates and only 50 guards. They were finally outnbered, we had the upper hand by 100 luck. We could escape.
And we would've escaped, but that wasn't the plan. No the plan was different. That was simply a make-believe I had told them.
I still remember Andrew's voice as I walked right past the open gate. Oh so sad, so hurt at the betrayal.He tried to run after me, he tried to catch me, to kill me- but that gate literally shut on him.
They were fools, to think the plan would involve them. I would be the one who was unaccounted for, the only one who's desicion mattered. And I wanted to keep it like that.
By the time you hear this, you probably already know my name. I named myself in memory of that incident where I had defeated them all.
I called myself Trump.
| 2018-06-29T10:00:25
| 2018-06-29T08:43:19
| 1,103
| 26
|
[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?”
|
We spoke for hours. I complained that he was being vague with his responses, he claimed I couldnt know too much.
I still dont know what he meant, or how one person could possibly have such an impact. Me, a semi employed, struggling writer and artist, positively impacting trillions. Not possible.
During the conversation, my phone rang - an old friend. He was having a tough time in med school and said he might drop out. We started chatting like we always had. Sure I had time to chat .. no problem. Old jokes and memories flooding back.
The genie left, and I understood.
|
"You were a very influential figure in the future, young lord. What you have done in your lifetime have allowed all those lives to attain a much brighter future."
"But what did I do?"
"I cannot say."
"Can't or won't?"
"I cannot. Though I can see into the future, the exact reason for your influence is unknown to me, I cannot pinpoint it."
"Can you show me, then, my future?"
"How do you want it to be shown?"
"What do you mean?"
"Do you wish to dream of your future, or perhaps a vision, or should I give you a hard drive full of your memories?"
"The hard drive, please."
"It is done."
---
*I connected the hard drive to my laptop. Opening the drive, I found it to be completely and utterly filled with videos of each of my days.*
*Deciding that whatever is it that had done had to have been during my prime years, I looked up the date fifteen years into the future.*
*But, as soon as I clicked the file, my head grew dizzy, and the next thing I saw was white.*
---
**"Hello, Jim."**
"You're--!"
**"Yes, it is I."**
"I can't believe it, you're actually real..."
**"As real as the sand in your feet, but that doesn't matter anymore."**
"Like hell it does, I mean--oh, sorry."
**"It's quite alright, child."**
"Why am I here?"
**"It has been thousands of years since my Son has returned here. I wish to send one final prophet to spread the Word."**
"Won't He come down Himself?"
**"My child, that day is far, far into the future. My task for you is more grounded in the present."**
"What do I need to do?"
**"You must go, and preach the wonders of humanity."**
"Not You?"
**"No, young Jim. You must go and praise the strength of your kind. Only by moving forward as one will you be able to progress into the future."**
"Under Your Light?"
**"That is up to you, but there is no need to unite under My wing."**
"I thought everyone should worship You?"
**"I am a parent, little Jim, and you are my children. I am happy when you praise My name, but I also want you to grow into your own. The greatest joy of a parent is to see their child succeed without them, and I am no exception."**
**"So long as my children do not give into evil, and do not forget My name, then how they succeed is of little importance to Me."**
"Okay, I will become a prophet, but what should I do first? Become a priest?"
**"Do not be tied into a single religion, young one. The entire world is your flock, and you must lead them to a brighter tomorrow. No, go and become a scientist, your innovations will be the one to lead the people into the future."**
"But what kind of scientist should I become?"
**"You are smarter than you give yourself credit for, Jim. You'll figure it out."**
*At that moment, I woke up.*
---
*The genie and the hard drive has disappeared while I was asleep, but it didn't matter to me. Now I have a new focus and a new determination on what I should do.*
*It will be ten years later when I unveiled my first invention, a battery with an infinite amount of power. From such a tiny device, the world changed.*
*That was the start of humanity's race for the stars. I continued to make minor innovations after that, but just from my battery, I had already saved billions of lives, and possibly more in the future.*
| 2018-08-15T05:06:03
| 2018-08-15T01:57:47
| 374
| 55
|
[WP] "Captain... the human didn't put on it's anti-warp gear before we jumped." "Sad to hear, prepare the coffin and jettison it." "No, sir. The human... nothing's happened to it. It didn't go insane from seeing infinity in the stars."
|
The crew stared at their newest crew member. It was risky taking a human on board when the species was so new to the universe.
“You were instructed to wear your anti-warp gear,” Second admonished.
“Yeah, I tried but I didn’t really fit. I think I’m supposed to have tentacles,” Bradford said.
“You saw the infinity of the stars with your bare eyes,” the Captain said.
“Yeah?”
The captain shifted uncomfortably. “The infinity should drive you insane.”
Bradford cocked his head. “You mean those moving stars should, like, make me insane? Geeze guys, you are out of your element.”
“Explain,” the captain said.
“I’ve been watching stuff like that since Windows 95.”
|
The Humans. They’re like canaries on a ship.
They can See photonic activity and Hear atomic activity. They can detect two particles bumping into one another from a billion miles away. Yet they are stupid, and small, and made of meat.
Advanced sentients are able to think in five dimensions, but humans struggle to comprehend the three that their existence is rooted in. The notion of quantum rational thought, knowing everything everywhere all at once, is beyond their faculties and their lexicon.
Yet here one stands. In the galactic pantheon, every ship has one. Its dimpled, hairy covering staring out at an infinitely complex network of interlaced matter types, and processing it all in the blink of its eye.
And now the dumb beast turns to me.
‘It’s amazing isn’t it, the vastness or space?’
I snort internally at the obliviousness of the proto-sapients’ attempt at deep thought. But I feel compelled to reply.
‘Yes, Captain.’
| 2020-07-14T02:58:11
| 2020-07-14T01:30:39
| 381
| 64
|
[WP]For three years you’ve had an uneventful marriage with your spouse when one day they become the Chosen One. Immediately setting off on their journey you don’t hear anything from them for five years. Then one day they reappear with a sheepish look on their face and hoping to speak to you.
|
We were sweethearts throughout high school. We had married after college. Then one day he simply left.
All the young men in our village left following my husband into battle. Chosen by themselves to save us from the invading army. They had already invaded the western half of the country under the guise of a training exercise. They took no prisoners, choosing instead to execute anyone they found. They called us Nazis or Nazi sympathizers, not worth the life we were given. Worse yet, we were told no one was coming to save us. Our countries politics kept us neutral, without allies. Our only supposed ally was the one who was invading us now.
I never heard from my husband, no one heard anything. We did however receive word over the radio. His unit was gathering momentum. They had gathered men from other villages and cities and had gathered a sizeable army.
Occasionally someones husband or son would return home. Always in a box. I wished he would never come home. I would sooner raise our daughter alone, knowing he was keeping us safe then have him return home.
Five years. For five very long years boxes came home, never one for me. We heard over the radio of clashes occurring. Stalemates. Occasionally we would lose ground, or a city. Then we were gifted weapons from outside sources who couldn’t interfere directly. They started to slowly gain ground. Retaking territory. We were winning. The enemy didn’t like that very much. They gave us 72 hours to surrender or our country would become a nuclear wasteland. At the end of those 72 hours hellfire rained over our little village. Only… it wasn’t nuclear. Our communications were severed. When the dust cleared and the air settled we learned from a traveller that the enemy leader was instead assassinated.
Despite our situation there were parties and feasts and celebrations from everyone. Our husbands were coming home!
It was about a week after that he arrived. We heard the day before that a unit was on its way to us in convoy. We were elated. I was at home with his parents with me waiting for him to arrive. Suddenly there was a knock at the door. I opened it. All of the surviving members of our villagers who fought were at my door.
“Ivanna, I’m so sorry. He was a truly the chosen one. He gave his life to kill the enemy President before he could use his nuclear codes...” I stopped listening as they all had something to say about my husband. Apparently there was a lot to say.
They paraded his casket into my home. His parents rushed to me as I collapsed and cried. For hours I sat there. The selfish bastard left me alone. I wished he would never return, and he did.
I asked his parents to take care of our daughter for a while. They understood, but weren’t much better off. But they were better off.
For two days I sat at his side. Angry and confused, and grief stricken. I willed myself to get up. I was hungry. I walked into the kitchen. I grabbed a loaf of bread and a knife. With little hesitation I jammed it into my neck. I heard my husbands voice. “Oh my sweet Ivanna. I’ve missed you for so long”
|
It had become a routine, tending to the gardens in the afternoon when work was done. Miko expected to forget, to get over it all, yet five long years and Lari’s face still shows up in almost every dream she had. It had become a ritual, taking care of the flowers her wife had loved so much, a remnant of someone who might not even be alive. She didn’t like to think of such possibilities.
When they received the notice from the Oracle: Larissa, chosen by light to defeat the demon king, they were shocked. But after long deliberation Lari decided to step foot on the journey, promising to write letters frequently.
The first year Miko waited, then second, then third… No letter arrived, no news from the villages nearby. She tried to search, for any semblance of her wife’s whereabouts, and every attempt ended with a dead end.
Knock Knock. There was a gentle tapping on the door. Miko grabbed the candles and slid open the lock.
Underneath the moonlight was Lari’s face, it was almost like she hadn’t changed at all after the years passing.
“Lari?” She asked gently.
There was sorrow on the hero’s face.
“I’m sorry, Miko… I’m so sorry, but please hear me explain…”
She waited for Lari to collect her thoughts.
“I defeated the demon king, it took me about… 4 weeks in total to arrive and have a final battle. I was so excited, I was victorious. Then when I emerged from the demon realm I realized something was horribly wrong. Years… had passed in the mere hours I spent fighting, and many thought I was dead. I immediately thought about you, and I…I…” She couldn’t continue, there was tears in her eyes.
“Oh.” Miko managed to utter out in surprise.
“I understand if you’ve moved on or…. I’m just…”
Lari was cut off from the warmth of Miko’s hug. “Nonsense, I’m just glad you were alive.”
“I’m so sorry.” She muttered.
“Don’t be.”
They sat by the fireplace, recounting Lari’s adventure. And when the sun rises again, despite everything that happened, it was like nothing had changed.
| 2022-08-12T18:12:55
| 2022-08-12T17:33:00
| 18
| 11
|
[WP] a prompt for bad people
Step one. Find a serious piece of work, for my example, I found a story about a lonely man who finds solace in taking long walks, and thinking about the geese that he sees. It was deep, and poetic, heartfelt, and really angsty.
Step two. Take the first sentence or two, and leave them as is. If you feel awkward about doing that, maybe paraphrase a little, but at least give the same general feel about the beginning. For example, my first lines are "Sometimes I like to take long walks by myself. It helps calm me down. I don’t really go anywhere, but it helps to clear my mind."
Step three. Take the general idea of the story (mine being about geese) and spin it in an adverse manner. For example, my next line is "That all changed, however, when the geese attacked."
Have fun with it, play up the absurdity, and don't feel bad if you feel like your idea is mocking the original piece. I will post my contribution post-haste.
|
This was written for my friend who wanted me to do Ghetto-Shakespeare:
Shall I compare dat ass to a Summer’s day?
Thou art mo’ fine and mo’ bootylicious:
Rough winds do shake the lovely hips that sway,
And dem pants make yo’ thing look delicious:
Sometimes too flat the butts of ladies sit,
And oft is their bouncy rotundness dimm’d;
And every fly from fly sometime doth quit,
By choice of nature’s clearing made untrimm’d:
But thy eternal Summer shall not fade,
Nor lose possession of thine foxiness;
Nor shall Death brag thou bounceth in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou shaketh.
So long as booties shake, or dance floors be,
So long lives this, and this gives lust to me.
|
I found this on the web, no author attached;_
Up speaks Poe's cat.
The End of the Raven
by Poe's cat
On a night quite unenchanting,
when the rain was downward slanting,
I awakened to the ranting of the man I catch mice for.
Tipsy and a bit unshaven, in a tone I found quite craven,
Poe was talking to a Raven perched above the chamber door.
"Raven's very tasty," thought I,
as I tiptoed o'er the floor,
"There is nothing I like more."
Soft upon the rug I treaded, calm and careful as I headed
towards his roost atop that dreaded bust of Pallas I deplore.
While the bard and birdie chattered,
I made sure that nothing clattered,
creaked, or snapped, or fell, or shattered,
as I crossed the corridor;
For his house is crammed with trinkets,
curios and weird decor -
Bric-a-brac and junk galore.
Still the Raven never fluttered, standing stock-still as he uttered,
In a voice that shrieked and sputtered, his two cents worth -
"Nevermore."
While this dirge the birdbrain kept up,
oh, so silently I crept up,
Then I crouched and quickly leapt up,
pouncing on the feathered bore.
Soon he was a heap of plumage,
and a little blood and gore -
Only this and not much more.
Then my pickled poet cried out,
"Pussycat, it's time I dried out!"
Never sat I in my hideout talking to a bird before;
How I've wallowed in self-pity,
while my gallant, valiant kitty.
Put an end to that damned ditty - then I heard him start to snore.
Back atop the door I clambered, eyed that statue I abhor,
Jumped - and smashed it on the floor.
| 2013-04-27T14:32:45
| 2013-04-26T20:12:23
| 101
| 39
|
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