prompt stringlengths 20 5.8k | chosen_story stringlengths 226 10k | rejected_story stringlengths 227 9.43k | chosen_timestamp timestamp[ns]date 2012-07-26 17:01:55 2022-12-31 14:34:19 | rejected_timestamp timestamp[ns]date 2012-07-26 14:23:36 2022-12-31 12:20:41 | chosen_upvotes int64 14 23.1k | rejected_upvotes int64 10 4.26k |
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[WP] You live in an ancient world, when someone turns 18, they will receive a gift either magic or weapon. The gift will be of use for them whenever in need. On your 18th birthday, Death knocks on your door and give you his scythe. | **HOLD THIS PLEASE**. I had been working in the fields with my parents, bringing in the corn under a dark sky, when the world had suddenly froze and shifted to a gray light. Out of the light had stepped Death.
On our 18th birthday, everyone is supposed to get some kind of power. Something that will keep them safe, give them wisdom, or defeat their enemies. In my family, it was most common to recieve a gift to help with our various trades. My father had recieved a magic calendar that contained all the weather for every season. It was difficult to tell what the tall skeletal figure outside the gate to my family's field was now offering. I decided to trust the old rules, and reached out my hand to grasp the scythe of Death.
As soon as I grasped it, he bent low, hiked his robe up slightly, and began to re-adjust the straps on his leather sandals. I could see skeletal hands, trying and failing, to appropriately secure shoes to skeletal feet. **I'VE BEEN TOLD THAT SHOES ARE A NECESSARY ELEMENT OF ANY WARDROBE**.
Before me stood the most feared being in our world; the very incarnation of the End. The legend stood that Death only shows themself to the living just before the world was to be destroyed, yet here he (possibly she?) stood. Or crouched.
"Why are you here?" I tried my best to keep the quake out of my voice. The confidence boost from a 6-foot tall scythe helped; it's owner did not. Death coughed, or did his best to imitate the noise for a being that, presumably, lacked both lungs and a throat.
**HAPPY BIRTHDAY**. Death, having long ago realized that non-verbal communication was an important part of human relations and that non-verbal communication was impossible for a being without a face, had devised a work-around. With each phrase that he emitted, he also imbued it with an undertone of another word, arriving slightly after the spoken word and slightly further back in the brain. With this phrase, the undertone was "embarassment".
"What do I do with it?" The scythe still towered over my head, but I was starting to feel it's power flowing into me. My hand had long ago gone numb, and my arm now had a tingling, buzzing feeling, like electricity flowing down a piece of metal being struck by a heavy object.
**IT IS A SCYTHE**. **YOU HAVE HELD A SCYTHE BEFORE**. He turned his head slightly, indicating towards a shed that held our farming equipment. For a moment, the robe was pulled back in the motion, yet there was still only darkness supporting the cowl.
"What does this one do that those can't?" The tingling had now spread from the arm grasping the scythe all the way to my chest. I could feel it spreading downward, accelerating, almost eagerly.
**THERE ARE HARVESTS BEYOND THE FIELD**. **YOU WILL LEARN THEM IN TIME**. He said this, and moments later, the tingling hit my feet. I felt an explosion and saw a flash of light as an arc of electricity hit. When I landed several feet away, just before I lost conciousness, I heard **WE WILL MEET AGAIN**. | I am 18. I live in a world where people gain the ability to wreak mass destruction at the exact same time that they are able to give consent in a relationship. You may think, "Why does this happen? Why would this world of yours be seemingly explicitly designed just for the purpose of violence?" I would answer, "I have no idea," because I have no idea.
The world I live in is weird and weird things happen. Such as the fact that in this world people could fly or shoot fire out of their eyes or inexplicably gain magical weaponry, because why not? There was also the time where I got my own weapon, which was rather strange, I must admit.
You see, it was about five days ago when the physical incarnation of death knocked at my door with a really, really big scythe in his hands. Uninvited, I should add. Absolutely, completely rude. When I stared him in the eyes, or an approximation of where his eyes should have been, I asked him, "Are you death?" He said yes, because he was Death.
**"Hello, mortal..."** Death said in his very scary voice. **"I am death incarnate. I have come to you today for a very special reason..."** Death proceeded to tell me all about how inherently powerful the scythe in his hands was, the special powers of the scythe, and how power came with responsibility. That's what I assumed Death said anyway, I wasn't really listening because I had better things to be doing.
To my credit, I caught the end of his speech about the scythe. **"... And that's why I am giving you this scythe."** Death went down on one knee and held the scythe out like a platter on a dining table. **"Take it, it will aid you on your adventures."**
I asked, "Why? What does it do?" because that is the way I am. I have no idea why Death was so fed up with me, but nonetheless, Death threw the scythe straight at my face and dissipated into nothingness.
Of course, I wouldn't actually use an enchanted scythe. It practically asked for the whole monkey's paw treatment. I threw it into the corner of my room and went back to whatever I was doing, and though I had no idea what that was, it was most definitely more important than mucking around with a magic Death Scythe.
The newly dubbed Death Scythe proceeded to prove how stupid I was about the basic workings of magical scythes, as it puffed into existence right on top of my head. It did this because that was the way scythes worked. At this point, I was getting somewhat peeved because of the metal object that had slammed straight down onto my head. I decided to do the reasonable thing: talk to the magical Death Scythe.
"What do you want from me?! What did Death even give you to me for?!" I yelled in a rather rude fashion. The Death Scythe, of course, didn't respond because it is only a regular scythe and cannot do magical things. How stupid of me, why did I even bother?
This is about the point where I gave up entirely attempting to communicate with my Death Scythe. There was only so much you could go through for a Death Scythe until you had to give up. Desiring some fresh air, I walked through the front door into my front lawn, where I saw normal people doing normal things such as flying through the air, fighting to the death and shooting magical crossbow bolts in random directions, because I lived in a world where that happened and was normal. Overall, it was a perfect day for a walk, and so I went, jogging down the road at a leisurely pace.
***Slam!*** The loud noise made me jump out of my skin, figuratively that is, because nothing that impractical would ever happen in this world. Speaking of which, the figure who had crashed into the ground in front of me in a meteor-like impact was standing and yelling at me, though I wasn't listening on account that I was hearing a really annoying ringing in my head. Eventually, my hearing found me again.
"... Kill you and take all your belongings and I can do it too! Don't test me, I have super strength and laser vision and..." I stopped listening. To be honest, I wished I could only hear ringing as I had moments ago. That would have been preferable to this. I believe it was around when the man in front of me gave up trying to talk with me and began trying to melt me into a puddle with lasers that the entire area around us darkened and a loud "Pop!" was heard.
I turned around. It was Death Scythe, here to save the day, as scythes do. As politely as I could, I asked Death Scythe, "Hey Death Scythe? Could you kill this trouble-maker for me? That would make me very grateful, thank you very much." Death Scythe didn't reply, as metal scythes didn't have mouths. What Death Scythe did do was cut the screaming man in front of me into bloody chunks upon the floor. It did this because I told it to and that is what scythes do.
I smiled as I realized my death would not be today, and I decided that maybe Death Scythe wasn't so bad. "Hey Death Scythe, that was a pretty cool thing you just did there!" I gave Death Scythe a little pat on the hilt. "Now, question here, is there anything else you could do besides making people die? Maybe, say, making floating numbers appear above everyone's head? I suppose it would have to indicate something, but for now, you could just put up random numbers that don't mean anything..." I continued rambling about this and that, finding Death Scythe to be a delightful listener during a conversation.
Of course, Death Scythe didn't reply, because that's what scythes did. | 2019-02-28T23:31:05 | 2019-02-28T21:49:30 | 142 | 98 |
[WP] When offered one wish, you jokingly said that you want to fire proof. You are disappointed to discover that fire still burns you. When you accidentally lit the company breakroom on fire, your boss just laughed it off and you began your new career as the person who can't be fired, ever. | On second thought, I should have been suspicious when the genie had laughed after granting my wish. Initially, it seemed like he was just happy, but I'll be damned if I appreciated his mirth when the flame burned the crap out of my index finger.
I threw the match aside as the blister, clearly a nasty one to come, began to form instantly. That was when it all went to hell. See, some matches are a little more wind resistant than others. This one was on the higher end of the spectrum. I had expected it to go out in mid-air, given how many of the damn things blew out when I was just trying to light a smoke outdoors. But this one hung on. The little match that could.
The contents of the trash can went up first. Then the pizza box on the counter. Apparently grease is flammable. The rest of the break room followed suit in short order. The fire department later said that if it hadn't been for the sprinkler system, we'd have lost the whole darn building. That was a Monday.
That Tuesday, I walked into my boss's office, fully prepared to accept my termination. He just gave me a slap on the back and said, I swear this is true, "Who among us *hasn't* started a major fire in the break room? Go on, you're fine." There were 53 employees in our office. I was pretty sure the answer to his question was "The other 52 of you," but didn't want to talk myself out of a job, so I left. On the way back to my desk, it dawned on me. *Fire* proof. Huh.
I have come to believe that after the discovery of any superpower comes the testing of its limits. But as I soon learned, this power had absolutely no limits whatsoever. No one minded when I came in late. No one minded when I came in late and dressed in flip flops. Indeed, no one minded when I came in *naked*. I really thought that one would do it. Eventually, no one minded when I stopped coming in altogether. The paychecks kept depositing.
Then I had an idea.
Eight hundred and thirty two. That is the number of jobs I now have. 832. I may be the world's first multimillionaire employed as a receptionist. Or 7-11 janitor. Or bus driver. It doesn't matter; I don't ever actually show up to any of them. I apply for every job out there, but my only real "job" is faking my resume and showing up for interviews. It helps that hiring managers can often be bribed. When I'm hired, my work is done.
At this point, I could easily stop, but each job is literally a lifetime income, no matter how low that income may be. My average job pays only $24,714 per year, putting my gross annual income just north of $20 million. All in all, I consider the "confusion" surrounding my wish to be working out in my favor.
Well, I did. Until those goddamn idiots at the other pump got into a gasoline fight. A spark, a whoosh, and my last thought as the fireball barrels through me is "Fucking genies."
​
**Edit**: First Reddit gold! Thank you kind interneteer! | Everyone was arrayed outside Paul's cubicle.
Nearest Paul, wearing all red, the Extremist Communist Party of Pittsburgh members stood with several duffel bags filled with high explosive and second hand soviet-era sidearms.
Just beyond them huddled the Ultra-Left Socialist Hunter-Killers, the famed violent insurrectionist movement whose brave menbers hijacked the USS Palmyra and scuttled her in international waters, sacrificing their own lives for the proletariat cause. Each had a shaved head and a purple headband, and stood by nervously, assault rifles slung over their shoulders.
Behind these two main contingents a host of self proclaimed revolutionaries and social radicals had answered Paul's craigslist ad. There were a bunch of the individual uni-bomber types, and several middle aged couples eager to prove to themselves that they could put their political action where their mouths had been for two decades.
Standing on his desk, kicking his computer screen to the floor to make more room, Paul gazed out on the capacity crowd. At least a hundred people filling the thirty fourth floor of the Harriman Insurance building.
"Thank you all for coming," Paul began, raising a bullhorn to his lips and blaring his voice across the office. "Death to the capitalists!"
"DEATH TO THE CAPITALISTS!" the room full of revolutionaries replied in screamed unison. A couple of the Hunter Killers even discharged their rifles into the ceiling several times in their excitement.
As powdered drop-ceiling fell onto Larry in accounting's work station, the frustrated pot bellied man got up, turned to Paul in annoyance and stormed off to the managers office to file yet another complaint.
Paul paid him no attention and signaled to a man in the back of the office to hit a switch. Suddenly all the lights went off and a projection appeared on the glass wall of Mary's office. Inside, Mary got up and pulled down the interior shade, but not before giving Paul the finger.
Paul cleared his throat and began. "Brothers and Sisters! Today we take the battle for the proletariats of the world to the very heart of the capitalist beast!"
Another strong outcry of 'huzzahs' and 'hell yeahs' and 'da comarades' - as well as another round of rifle shots - and Paul continued, pointing at the projection with a laser pen.
"At O Nine Hundred Hours, the Hunter Killers will intercept the CEO of Harriman Insurance. Mr. Harriman will be tightly guarded, but the Brothers and Sisters of the Hunter Killers are not averse to the use of force, isn't that right?"
Egged on, the Hunter Killers went full auto into the drop ceiling. Upstairs there were several loud screams and then the sounds of heavy objects falling to the floor. Paul shrugged.
"My point exactly, as the Hunter Killers take Mr. Harriman, the Pittsburgh Party will be taking control of building security here," Paul pointed to the 14th floor on the map of the building.
As Paul continued laying out his plan to militarily take over the Harriman Insurance company, he saw his manager coming around the corner with Larry from accounting.
Frustrated, Paul raised a hand to the expectant crowd and said, "just one second." Then he stepped down from his desk and walked over to meet the manager half way down the hall, pushing his way through the militant communists.
"Hi Paul," the manager said, "looks like Larry has a complaint again. I'm sorry to bother you with it."
Paul pursed his lips and leaned lazily against the wall. "What's up?" He asked matter of factly.
Larry exploded. "Whats up?! What's up is that this is the second time this week your extremist buddies have shot holes in the ceiling!" He gestured to Tim's empty cubicle, "they hit Tim last week! Jesus, he'll never walk again!"
Paul sucked his upper teeth and hummed lightly, "hmmm," then he shrugged to the manager. "Got to get back to it, man."
Hands outstretched the manager lowered his head in supplication and said in a pacifying tone, "of course, Paul, of course. Gosh I'm really sorry to bother you with this. Larry," he said raising his voice, "you're fired!"
Paul nodded as Larry, flabbergasted began to protest.
The manager shook his head, "no no, thats the last straw larry, pack your things and get out."
Dumbfounded Larry loosed a chain of curses but, at the subtle insistence of oane of Paul's crazier looking attendees, he started packing.
Paul nodded pleasantly to the manager and was about to head back to heading his extremist communist take over of the company when the manager stopped him with a hand on the shoulder. Paul turned back around, looking put upon. "Yeah?"
The manager pointed at one of the open duffel bags of the Pittsburgh crew. A World War 2 era German stick grenade was poking out of the open zipper.
"Paul, uh, is that a hand grenade?"
Paul made a lazy show of turning around to check. "Hmmm hm, looks like."
The manager paused for a moment and then nodded to himself. "Got it, keep up the good work buddy." Then he clapped Paul jovially on the back and walked off.
Paul made his way back to his ersatz soap box and picked up the blow horn. He couldnt remember where he left off so he decided to give them a quick pick me up to get the energy back in the room.
"Death to the capitalists!" He screamed and the room went wild again, bullets flying into the ceiling and dusting Larry with particle board as he lumbered angrily towards the elevator with a box of his belongings.
*****
#### For More Legends From The Multiverse
## r/LFTM | 2019-03-01T12:49:14 | 2019-03-01T12:37:57 | 5,051 | 84 |
[WP] You just got three wishes from a genie but it turns out he's a dick, so you decide to use your three wishes to make the genies life as miserable as possible. | "But, asked for a cure for cancer!" I protested "Nothing has changed, no news articles, nothing of the sort"
"Ah, but big pharma already discovered a cure for cancer, they haven't released it yet because they make too much from chemotherapy."
"Then I wish it was universally available for free"
"Hahaha" the genie bellowed, his laughter echoing off the walls of my small apartment. "Your second wish is my command... All cancer cures are now available for free, but nobody knows what they're called, what to ask for, or how to fill in the 58 pages of forms to acquire it for free"
"You're a bit of a dick really aren't you?"
"I've suffered for centuries, cooped up in a vessel that can fit in the palm of your hand. You get your wish and I have a laugh, it's a win-win relationship"
"What did your last master wish for?"
"To end hunger among the impoverished"
"And how did you grant his wish?"
"A swarm of locusts. The Egyptian slaves were ungrateful for that."
"How would that help?"
"Locusts are relatively large, meaty, and in that case, plentiful. They just don't LOOK too appealing"
I had to think. What could I wish for that the genie wouldn't be able to foul up? Then it hit me.
"I know what I want my third wish to be"
"I await your command" the genie grinned, at the thought of how he could twist yet another poor soul's last wish into a good laugh
"I wish to be your master, eternally"
"Excuse me?"
"Well... No wishing for extra wishes, no bringing back the dead, and no wishing for love. Those are the rules, correct?"
"Well, yes"
"And as your master you have to do exactly as I command."
"This is true, but you can't make wishes, even if after this wish I'm your servant"
"No. But I can make demands. Make it so"
The genie clapped his hands. "...Now what?"
"Now. You have to obey my every command, correct?"
"Yes, but no wishes"
"Okay. There's a cancer ward in the hospital in the city. I demand that you go through a full course of chemotherapy, and come see me in six months."
"How do I-?"
"You're a smartass, I'm sure you'll figure it out." | “Then Jasmine and Aladdin shared a gentle kiss and lived happily ever after!”
Emma giggled as her mother closed the book and set it aside on the bedside table. Her eyes wandered towards the lamp on said table as she said, “Mommy, if I rub my lamp, will Mr. Genie come out and give me wishes too?”
Emma’s mother smiled as she kissed Emma on the forehead and stood up from the chair, replying, “Maybe tomorrow, baby. Mr. Genie needs to get his beauty sleep too, you know. He’s really, really tired from giving out all those wishes to Aladdin. And you’ve got a big day tomorrow too, so you need to sleep! Okay, baby? I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Ok, Mommy. I love you!” Emma replied as her mother turned off the lights and closed the bedroom door. She waited for the sounds of footsteps going back down the stairs before she threw off the covers and sat face-to-face with her bedside lamp. Reaching out with a trembling hand, she touched its metallic surface. It was still warm to the touch, but the heat did not stop her from vigorously rubbing it. A few seconds passed before a puff of smoke burst forth from where the lightbulb was screwed. Encouraged by this, Emma continued to rub the lamp as fast as her little arm could allow. The puffs of smoke soon filled the room, until Emma could barely see the lamp in front of her. Suddenly, the smoke vanished. Her lamp was nowhere to be seen. But standing in front of her was a shirtless figure, an ethereal mist hanging where its legs should have been.
Emma gasped and said, “Mr. Genie! Is that you?”
“Mr. What? Hold on a sec. Before we start, lemme turn on a light or something. I can’t see shit in here.”
The figure hovered over to the light switch and flicked it on before turning back to Emma. His initial expression of confusion gave way to one of exasperation as he groaned and said, “You gotta be shittin’ me. I pop out after 1700 years and the first jabroni I get is some pig-tailed brat in pink pajamas? Seriously?”
Emma giggled in response and said, “Mr. Genie, Mr. Genie! Can I have my three wishes, please?”
The genie let out a deep sigh and muttered, “Screw it. Let’s just get this shit over with.” He put on the fakest smile he could muster and said, “Why, certainly! Your wish is my command, milady! What would your heart desire? Perhaps a…lovely little pony, just for you?”
The little girl gasped in delight and replied, “I want a pony! I wish for a pony! An-and I want her name to be Suzy, and I want her to have brown hair, an-and-”
With a snap of his fingers, a Shetland pony materialized in front of the genie. Keeping up his fake smile, he said, “And perhaps milady desires a…beautiful doll-house, filled to the brim with Barbie dolls?”
“Barbie, Barbie! I’m a Barbie girl, in a Barbie wo-”
The genie could feel his teeth grinding against one another as he interrupted, “Yes, yes, milady. Barbie is a wonderful selection. Is that what your heart desires?”
“Yeah, yeah! I wish for a Barbie doll-house, an-and I want a hundred Barbies inside!”
Another snap of his fingers, and a life-size Barbie doll-house appeared next to the pony, Barbie dolls spilling out of its windows. “Now, milady. We have come to your third and final wish. Methinks a lovely young woman like yourself would perhaps desire…a lifetime supply of candy?” asked the genie, his smile growing ever wider.
“Mmm…I like candy, but…that’s not what Aladdin did with his third wish. And Mommy told me Aladdin was a good person for setting Mr. Genie free.”
A vein began to bulge from the genie’s left temple as he replied, “You are not Aladdin, milady. And you do not have to waste your *final* wish on a humble creature like mys-”
“I got it! I wish for you to be my best friend forever!”
The smile immediately vanished from the genie’s face. The mist hanging below his upper body solidified into a pair of legs as he landed feetfirst onto the floor below. His mouth trembling, he uttered, “Wha-what did you just do? My powers, I-I can’t feel them anymore. WHAT DID YOU D-”
Emma giggled and replied, “Yay! I’m gonna call you Gene now, Mr. Genie. Let’s play with Barbie and Suzy!”
The former genie sank to his knees and let out a blood-curdling scream as the little girl ran towards her new playthings.
r/williamk9949 | 2020-06-16T09:46:47 | 2020-06-16T09:41:26 | 173 | 124 |
[WP] You've been meowing at your idiot owner all freaking day, and he's just not listening, at all. It's become a test of endurance: Your patience, his willingness to ignore you, the ninja assassin's grip on the ceiling. | "MRAOU!"
"No, it's not time for dinner yet."
I know it's not time for dinner yet, that's not what I'm yelling about. Stupid humans, you never look UP! He's right there, and he could strike at any moment! I'm trying to help you, why won't you listen!?
"MRAOOU!"
"I know you're hungry, but you're always hungry."
I'M NOT HUNGRY!
OK, I am hungry, but that's not the point. The assassin is right there. You're in mortal danger! Maybe if I get closer to him you'll understand.
"No, off the counter! Get!"
See, he's RIGHT THER... Dangit. Look, I'm sorry about those cups, but if they break after one or two falls off the counter they're not really quality ceramic, are they? No reason to push me off. Some people just hold too much of a grudge.
What was I talking about again?
Oh, right!
"MAOU! MRAOU! MRAOU!"
"Really, you know you're not supposed to be on the counter. What's gotten into you? What are you looking at anyway?"
FINALLY! You see him, you're safe!
"Oh, do you wanna get the spider? Were you asking for a boost? C'mon, up you go!"
AHA! No assassin is going to get the best of me.
Mmmmm, crunchy assassin. | "Here here, kitty. Still hungry? You've been asking all day."
"No you dumb disappointing clusterfuck of a lovely and adorable human being," you say loudly while looking at the daft moron in the eyes.
You're not hungry, you're not cold, you're not sick, you're not starved for affection, you haven't witnessed the end of the world. Nothing so trifling. What you've seen is the assassin, dressed in black and weapons gleaming white in the shadows of the high ceiling. It creeps where your master walks, watches when he eats, and waits patiently for him to come back from work.
So far, the only one standing between the killer and the human, is you.
The cat. White as a snowstorm, so smart you could write literature about the marvels of your ever-improving brain, strong enough to ward off the would be assassin. But not strong enough to climb on the walls and hang from the ceiling. You tried, but good food and stupid birds making it too easy for you to kill them have done a number on your body. From godlike, with muscles of steel and the instinct of a tiger, you became homely, cozy, a picture of warmth and loveliness. Another form of godlike, in short.
The game goes on and on. When at home, you shadow the human, that bumbling, beautiful, retarded and enjoyable to watch baby. When gone, you gaze into the abyss of the ceiling. And the abyss watches back. The abyss doesn't even have the common courtesy to wave and say hello like you do. It doesn't attempt psychological warfare, it knows the never-ending darkness is no match for the shiny charisma you possess. So shiny, like your fur. Battle not with monsters, lest ye become a monster. You won't, you can't go so low as the uneducated barbarian hanging from the ceiling, you will never become the abyss, you're so good the abyss wants to become you.
Ergo, Nietzsche was wrong. Fucking idiot.
A slamming door drags you out of the daydream. Treachery! Sleep has crawled around you and pounced when you least expected it. The assassin has moved, no doubt ready to unleash its master-plan and murder the human you call master yet have to help and support through the day.
Run, fly, flash! You're almost there! at the end of the corridor you see the human, and the black shape on the ceiling.
No!
NO!
It drops. The murderer, the creature of the abyss, the hell made flesh and bone. It falls upon your master, an omen of the end. Seconds stretch wide as the short distance between the ceiling and the human's head is traveled by the foe, the wrath, the enemy.
"Ouch! What the hell?"
Your master picks up the black cat that just fell on him. It's black. Which fits a black cat. It has fangs, ears and a tail, which also fits. All in all, it is a cat. Indubitably so. To a human.
To you, it's the rival you never wanted, always feared, and now it's here. Too late. It has locked eyes with the human, a spark of affection flares in his eyes, a fleeting moment of bliss emerges as his nerves transmit how fluffy and puffy the fur is.
*NOOOOOOO* you scream into nothingness as you realize the extend of your defeat, the horrendous treachery of your own laziness, the devil that has entered home.
The master wants to let it out, he has enough with one cat, and yet... The color, the eyes, the perfect contrast to you. He has fallen in love, he is lost forever. He grabs a bowl and some milk in the kitchen and sets it on the ground between the two of you.
"Be nice to one another, okay?"
Black and white gaze at one another with the neutrality and patience of a sphinx.
The moment the human looks away, you bare your fangs, and the newcomer cracks his neck.
This house isn't big enough for two cats. | 2021-09-01T08:46:26 | 2021-09-01T07:55:32 | 1,661 | 93 |
[WP] For centuries Elves held a Monopoly on Magic and only a select few Humans where taught Magic who were easily controlled. That's why they freaked out when a Human Bandit learned Magic. You are this Bandit and you are having the time of your live tricking and robbing those Elves in your Woods. | "Pick a card, any card!"
I grinned maliciously as the stammering elf maiden reached hesitantly for one of the cards in my grasp.
"Y- You wretched scoundrel! Stealing our power, the ancient arts! I'm not afraid of you!"
With that impassioned speech, she grabbed one of the cards furiously, pulling it close to her chest. She looked down at it with confusion in her eyes.
"What is this supposed to mean?" She demanded, bewildered.
"Wait wait wait, don't tell me what it is. Put it back in the deck."
Suspicious, she slotted the card back where it had come from, and I shuffled it, eyes closed.
"Now madam, there's no way I know where this card is, correct?"
She nodded dumbly, looking me dead in the eyes. She was afraid.
"But hey, just in case, take the deck, here. Shuffle it yourself."
The sound of shuffling echoed softly throughout the woods. While she was distracted, I quickly glanced up and down the worn dirt road. No one was coming. That meant I had time to pull out all the stops. Good.
She handed my cards back to me and I flashed her my most villainous grin before offering her the full spread of the cards, face down. I reached across the display and, wiggling my fingers, I plucked the inconspicuously marked card from among them.
Her face morphed into an expression of shock and awe as I showed her her card, and I took a theatrical bow.
"But- But how?" She demanded. "What manner of magic is that? It's nothing like the power of the Elves!"
Rolling a gold coin between my fingers, one I'd nabbed from her during my bow, no less, I began to weave my story. With appropriate theatrics of course. I'd always had a flair for the dramatic.
"Hehehe," Came the sinister chuckle. "My magic is nothing like the exaggerated illusions you fools practice. Placing curses? Summoning demons? My magic is much more complex. I control fate, madam, and that means I have no limits. I made that card reappear for me, and I can change the course of history with just the snap of my fingers. In fact, I've already done it twice! Who owns these woods?"
"T- The humans?" She whimpered.
"It didn't always used to be that way," I fibbed. "In another world, this belonged to the Elves, but that didn't suit my needs. So, I simply... fixed it. I can do *anything* to the fate of this world, and there's no one alive powerful to stop me. In fact..."I flipped the coin and caught it in my palm.
"If I wanted to..."
I closed my hand around it.
"I could even make you..."
She looked up at me, fearful.
"...disappear." I opened my hand, the coin gone.
And with that, she fainted, forming a limp noodle on the ground. I took the time she was napping to raid the rest of her cart, taking the valuables for myself, and leaving the sentimentals for her to keep. After all, she seemed like a nice enough kid. A bit disrespectful, but certainly not the worst I'd ever come across.
Not like that brat. The one who had kicked me to the road and beaten me within an inch of my life, had ridiculed me as 'a master of the petty and inconsequential.' I'd find him yet, and when I did...
hohoho, he would need an army to protect him. For now though, I finished gathering my loot, and set the young elf in her wagon, sending the horses on ahead.
As I scaled a nearby tree and awaited my next target, I relished in the success of my tricks. They might not be real magic, but they were just as damn effective.
I might need a new card trick though. This one had been getting stale. | Sam sat crouched in the shadow of a large oak, slowly creeping towards where the two elves had gathered. Dried leaves crunched and rustled with every step so Sam carefully threaded a path in behind a bush and listened carefully.
“Lydia,” an Elf snapped. “You better hope nothing happens the cache or Vacour will be furious.” Peering through the gaps in the bush, the Elf that was talking was just like the rest of them, Sam noticed. Light brown skin and a face made of misery. Long, dirty blonde hair, the Elf had the standard bow and arrow wrapped around his back. And there, between the two Elves' feet, nearly completely hidden beneath dirt and leaves. was a box. Sam knew the type. A delightfully designed box covered in runes and images of famous elves, long dead.
“Of course not, Brioch,” Lydia snarled. Even without seeing her face, Sam knew she was furious. “Nothing will happen to the gold. Relay that to Vacour yourself, if you want.” Neither said a word as Sam held his breath. Finally, Brioch broke the silence.
“Good to hear, Lydia,” he chuckled. “Sounds like you finally found your backbone.”
“What would you know about backbones, Brioch?” Lydia accused the male Elf. He only smirked and turned away from her.
“Oh and do be on the lookout for that bandit, Lydia.” smiled Brioch, who turned back to face her. “It would be awful to lose yet another Elf and cache to him.” With that Brioch disappeared, shifting quickly through the trees.
“Prick,” Lydia muttered, as she took a seat on the box and whipped out a smoking pipe. “And that Vacour too…” A brief look of concentration passed across the elves face and soon the contents of the pipe were lit and smoke plumed and vanished in the forest air.
“Talking to me about my backbone,” she puffed, another circle of smoke rose from her pipe before becoming lost between the giant oaks that surrounded them. “And him the most cowardly Elf in the realm. Probably long gone. Away across the forest, just in case the bandit shows up.” Lydia went silent for a while as she puffed away on her pipe, hardly looking up to check her surroundings. The forest became silent too, the only sound the odd squawking bird or a rustle of leaves behind him. Sam’s legs started to ache and protest his crouching but he ignored them as best he could. Focusing on his breathing, Sam realised he only needed to breathe once or twice a minute, the rest of the time given over to thought. Looking around, Sam took in his surroundings. Behind him lay the path out of the forest. He’d make it out of here with the box if no one close by followed him. Above, a red squirrel danced across the branches, catching both Sam’s and Lydia’s attention for a moment. Then, as quickly as he blinked, the squirrel dropped to the ground, an arrow through his eye.
“Aren’t you a lovely little fellow?” whooped Lydia, snatching the bloody animal off the ground and shoving it into some hidden inside pocket. “You’ll make a great starter tonight!” He’d have to think of something smart to make it out of here with his life as well as the gold. Stroking his chin, he thought back to the first time he had used his powers to ambush the elves.
It had been snowing, the forest was covered in a layer of cold, white. Snow-covered everything, from the branches to the caches. Thankfully, Sam had been watching them a couple of days before the snow arrived and having overheard two elves arguing, had figured out the location of a cache. Finding himself, half-buried in the snow, Sam soon realised just how much control he had over his magic. The Elf guarding the box of treasure had just thought that a storm had appeared from the depth of the forest. A snowstorm so harsh and centred on him, the only thing he could do was huddle up and wait till it was over. By that time, Sam had been able to sneak up beside him, and slowly lift as much gold as he could from the box. Closing the lid back down, it must have been weeks before they realised he had hit them. If they realised it at all.
Lydia’s beautiful and hypnotic whistling brought Sam back to the present. *No snow though*. Shifting slightly, from one foot to the next, the leaves beneath him crunched once more and Lydia’s eyes darted in his direction. Slowly, she rose to her feet, the bow appearing in her hand, an arrow already locked into place. Her footsteps never made a sound and if he couldn’t see the elf, Sam wouldn’t even know she was moving around. Drawing her bow, the arrow pointed right at the bush where Sam hid. *It was now or never.* Putting his hands to the ground and closing his eyes, Sam thought about fire, heat and warmth spreading out in front of him. Opening his eyes, he was delighted to see the leaves all around him had burst into flame, smoking bellowing, thick and black.
“What the?” Lydia cried out, taking a step back, pointing the arrow all around her now. Focusing on the smoke, Sam tried to keep it from drifting upwards, hoping to use it as a screen. Then, through the bush, an arrow zipped by, cutting Sam slightly in the back. Letting out a quick gasp, Sam forced his mouth closed, his teeth near snapping in half.
“I saw you, bandit!” Lydia called out. “The next one will be through your heart. Now step out and surrender yourself.” For a second, Sam was overcome with panic. *I’m dead. They’ll string me up. No! I’m better than this!* With all the magic he could muster, Sam, brought as much flame and smoke between him and the elf as he could, forcing her backwards. The fire rose, burning the bush in the process. The smoke thickened, the grey and black, swirling and around. Then, as it all slowly started to drift away, Lydia found herself standing all alone. Around her, the fire had consumed all the life it could. The tree’s, the leaves, the bushes.
“Bloody bandit,” she smirked. “Nothing compared to an elf and her bow.” Taking her seat once more, she never realised that the lid of the box was left slightly ajar or that it was lighter than before. | 2021-12-04T16:57:28 | 2021-12-04T11:44:23 | 39 | 23 |
[WP] You're still alive after the heat death of the universe, unfortunately there is no snail coming for you. Everytime you would die an angel has revived you, firmly reminding you "You must save the world", very unhelpful but the garden is going well. | The Archangel Gabriel exploded out of the vast nothing of the empty universe, appearing to be a radiating collection of rings surrounding a flaming eye, each ring made of brass and gold, surrounded by pairs of burning wings.
"FEAR NOT." The voice boomed through the ether.
"I'm not afraid, Gabe. Has it really been an iota already? Or six million years? There's no way to tell passage of time. Time doesn't exist anymore, except when I'm thinking about it. I mean, that's weird, right?" Kathy replied in a Montanan accent, prying off a gardening glove and wiping a small amount of dying proton off her forehead.
"KATHY KOWALSKI, YOU MUST SAVE THE WORLD."
"You know, der, you keep telling me to do that but you ain't giving me much context on how to do that, there, the world's already pretty much ended. Everything's ended."
Another explosion of flame and glory. Six pairs of wings, protecting a central shining light, with a flaming sword and a human, lion, wolf, and stag head. The Archangel Zakedriel spoke.
"FEAR NOT- OH. HEY. I DIDN'T KNOW YOU WERE STILL HERE." Zakedriel spoke to Gabriel, who rolled his dozens of eyes.
"YEAH. I'M STILL HERE. I'M TELLING HER."
"OH, WELL, I WAS GONNA TELL HER-"
Kathy watched the two talk and pursed her lips.
"KATHY. SAVE THE WORLD."
"YOU'RE REALLY LACKING THE GRAVITAS. WE TALKED ABOUT THIS. NO PERSONAL NAMES. IT'S "YOU MUST SAVE THE WORLD!"
"YOU ARE SUPER JUDGEY." Zakedriel beamed brighter with irritation.
"I AM THE MESSENGER. I KNOW WHAT TO DO. PUBLIC SPEAKING IS MY THING."
"Now, hey there, there's no need to argue or anything."
Another brilliant flash, this one brighter than the others, and a mountain-sized thunderstorm composed of burning wheels, wings, and eyes formed a cyclone in the heart of a brilliant chorus of cherubic small rings.
"I AM THE METATRON. PUBLIC SPEAKING IS MY THING. KATHY, I SPEAK FOR THE *CREATOR OF THE UNIVERSE.* YOU MUST SAVE THE WORLD!"
"Can't he, though?"
The lesser seraphim gasped.
"..abw- I'm sorry?" The METATRON spoke, off guard, his thousands of eyes honed in on Kathy.
"I mean, if he created the universe, can't he just like, do it all over again? I'm just a girl from Billings, ya know."
"...uh. UHM. UH. OK. HOLD PLEASE."
The METATRON left. Gabriel and Zakedriel just hovered there, doing the eldritch form of twiddling their thumbs
The METATRON came back.
"YES. He's on the line with technical support. Uh. Sorry, about all of this. The moment everything's reset, you'll uh, be back home, six billion years ago."
"Oh. Okay. You boys want some Post-Heat Death Potato Stew?"
edit:
the story is continued below in a reply to /u/tslnox | This time it would be different. That was what I thought every time I tried to kill my self. But each time was the same. I would wake up and he would be standing there, a hint of visible disappointment on his face.
“Why are you so intent on killing me?”
“You!? I’m killing my self.”
“Have you not been listening to a word I’ve said? You have to save the world. I live in this world. Ergo, if you die, so do I.”
“Ergo… who even talks like that.”
“Ok. Let me explain this to you one more time…”
This is where he usually lost me. I had no desire to understand hot death, equilibrium or whatever he went on about. I had never been a particularly clever person so all of that was beyond me. But once he got going, it was tough to stop him. So I did what I usually did. I ignored him and tended to my garden.
The apple tree was growing well.
And the rose! It was majestic. I would sit and stare at that rose for hours. He never understood it, of course. For an angel, he didn’t really understand beauty.
“… and that’s why you have to live. Understood?”
“Sure sure.” My attention was fixed on something else though. One of the petals was drying up. But that was impossible. It had been beautiful and blooming for… I wasn’t even sure. When you’ve been living for centuries time didn’t mean much. Plus, right outside my door was all the time that had ever existed.
“Can you stop it with the stupid flower?”
“Why is this happening?”
“Well the time is close.”
“No! Wait. I’m not ready. My flower needs to live still!”
“Yet you were ready to kill yourself a few minutes ago.”
I looked at him, dumbstruck. “Don’t you understand. I thought the flower would live forever. Regardless of what happened to me. It’s always been like this!”
“Nothing stays the same. Everything always changes. Equilibrium is decay. Decay is equilibrium.”
“Just stop it! I need to think.”
I went and sat cross legged next to my rose.
He tried to talk to me for a while but I didn’t care. After a while he opened the door, where it was the early 2000s. He walked out into the past and was gone.
I sat there for years on years, focusing on that bit of brown. It was getting bigger. My rose would eventually die. But how… I thought we had reached equilibrium. From what I understood that meant static. Unchanging things. I plucked another apple and wolfed it down.
Another thing I had noticed is that in the past few years it had gotten worse. Now there were three petals who had begun to dry out.
I was so stuck by the death in front of me that I didn’t even notice him walking in.
He tapped me on the shoulder. “Have you been here all this time?”
“Time. What a funny idea.”
“If you say so.”
“What do you need me to do to save the world?”
“I need you to die.”
I laughed. “Now?”
“You have some time still.”
“Why can’t god fix all this?”
“God? What a silly idea. What makes you think one exists?”
“An angel brings me back to life every time I die. So logically…”
“Because I exist a god must? I don’t see how that would work.”
“So what happens now?”
“It’s time for a reset. The merge will happen soon creating the ultimate observer.”
I took another bite of the apple. I was more interested in what the angel was saying than the rose now. I looked at him a bit closely. Why had I thought he was an angel? He didn’t look like any description of one I had ever heard of.
“And the ultimate observer chooses how we go on?”
“Not we. The universe world line.”
“I understood.” Surprisingly I did.
I also knew that it was time. For the first time, there was darkness outside. It was never dark outside my room. I opened the door which usually led to various times. Now it was just dark.
“It’s time?” I looked questioningly at him.
“Indeed.”
I noticed for the first time the wrinkles on his forehead. He had never shown any signs of aging before. It was fast. So fast that it surprised me.
“Will you be ok?”
“It’s up to the ultimate now I guess.” He walked up to me handing me an apple and what was left of my rose. “Go on then. Go. Jump.”
I looked and unsurprisingly looked into the void. It was dark all around.
As I looked down, I saw many other versions of me peeking into the void.
I jumped and so did everyone else.
We all fell for what seemed like ages. As we did, we learnt many things from each other. With every past millisecond I was learning something new. And so was every version of me. Considering we fell for a few millennia, by the end all of us were the supreme knowledgeable beings.
The light came suddenly. All of us were absorbed into it, a single sentient being as we saw the past and the present.
Wr saw him, my angel, huddled near my naked rose plant conspicuous by the absence of the rose. The beauty had seeped into him though. He looked peaceful. Angelic.
We remembered the rose and took it out. It was decided. We closed our eyes and the world line was reinitiated. A loud bang caused us to flinch and close our eyes.
It was time to sleep.
As we fell asleep, we heard a voice of a child’s laughter, smelt the fragrance of a rose and felt a faint taste of a beautiful fresh apple. | 2022-04-04T21:36:55 | 2022-04-04T20:33:04 | 1,002 | 248 |
[WP] As a young wizard you uncovered an old spell that resurrects one of your eldest ancestor. You do so in curiosity, only to face one of the most feared creature the world ever experienced thousands of years ago. The creature recognizes you as its descendant while you stare at it in disbelief. | The earth cracks with a thunderous sound that sickens me. I just *know* it's the sound of broken bones, only multiplied by a thousandfold. The decayed hand of The Beast shoots up the wound on the ground, and grasps around until it finds leverage. A skinny arm pulls the tattered and ragged body up from the depths where it should stay, and two burning eyes focus on mine.
"Look how much you've grown!" The Beast howls, her voice making the ground shake. She lifts her other hand and it snaps up close to my face, pinching my cheek. Her skin is rough and her claws dangerous.
"You just have your mother's eyes, don't you? How long has it been? 10? 13 years?"
I shake my head. "Since when?" I manage to ask, trembling.
"Since you were born, silly. I held you just like this." The Beast mimes shaking something in her hand, as if she was holding an invisible pair of dice.
"I'm... I'm 34." I correct her. Her gasp pushes me back with a gust of air, and I land on my own ass.
"I can't believe it's been so long! How come?"
I look up at her. My vision is clouded with tears of fear.
"That's not possible! You died before the Age of Crystal!" I cry out. My knuckles are white on top of my fists.
"The what?" The Beast rises her head over the treeline and gasps again. The few animals that hadn't run away just yet flee for their lives. The forest is silent, her movements echoing through the unnatural stillness. "Where's the Keep? Aio, what's going on here?"
I recognize that name. Aio the Terrible. A figure of legend, the one that tried to revive The Beast and was thwarted by the Empire and the Council. That bloody war was almost as destructive as The Beast's original rampage.
She looks back at me. The grass on the ground flares up and burns away under her gaze. "Oh, I'm dreadfully sorry. You are not Aio, are you? I seem to be confused." She stomps her elbow on the ground, leaving a crater. Her horned, burning face lowers to look at me closer. "You do have my blood in your veins. You are family."
Her toothy mouth splits in a mockery of a smile.
"What do you think? Shall we try again, uh?" She asks. I simply pass out from the fear. | I just stood there, mouth a gape, staring with unbelieving eyes at the creature before me. It was as massive as it was terrifying, being 6 foot tall myself, it was easily twice my size. It had dark grey skin, almost like that of a rhino or elephant, but for all it's size it's head seemed almost disproportionately small, and with no visible neck. For being twice as tall it had too have been at least 4 or 5 times heavier, arms and legs like tree trunks, and a torso like one of those flat faced semi-trucks. By far the most terrifying part though were the eyes, not to mention the complete lack of any visible mouth or nose. It had four eyes, one pair where you would think eyes should be, and one pair being set a little closer to where one would think the creatures' ears would be. There was no white to it's eyes, just darkness, black in the center and dark shades of gray fading away from where I was sure the pupil was.
There was no doubt that the creature was looking at me though, it's gaze not quite looking me in the eye, but piercing, as if it were trying to see behind me, and it was quite unsettling. I had read about the creature only briefly, texts that even mention it were scarce and mostly in volumes speaking of mythologies. Images of it were scarcer still, but the memory of the few times I had seen them had certainly stuck. Those texts never gave a name, only referring to it as The Destroyer. In the ancient myths, it was believed to have been responsible for the razing of all of Atlantis.
Completely frozen in fear, I still just stood there staring at it, wondering where I had gone wrong in casting the spell. It was old magic and translation took a fair bit of time, but it was still fairly straight forward. The only real difficulty being finding the dragon scale needed for the fire. Then, in a low voice, I heard odd sounding words that seemed to be coming from the beast, though from where exactly I had no idea. When the sounds stopped, still utterly terrified, I could barely summon the courage to raise my hands and shoulders in an obvious state of confusion. I saw it's head tilt to the side a little and it's horrifying dark eyes somehow visibly narrowed. It was almost ten feet away, but with one step it closed the distance immediately and held out it's giant hand in front of my face. Flinching backwards a bit when it suddenly put forth one finger and reached to touch my head. The finger made contact with my left temple, and it was warm, almost hot. The sensation that followed was by far the most unsettling part yet, it was like when you're half asleep and you think you're falling, awakening in terror only to realize your still laying down. It was like that, but in slow motion and with the added twist of having the sensation of something trying to pull you from your body.
Lasting only a few long moments, the relief I felt when it pulled away was immeasurable. The monster took a half step back and raised it's hands to the sky, slowly lowering it's hands palm down, as if it were doing some kind of tai chai breathing exercise. Again, in a trance of complete fear, I was convinced it was going to cast some kind of spell and render untold destruction all around. It was odd though, cause no such spell came forth, and as strange as it was, it almost seemed to be shrinking. Suddenly the light bulb in my brain came on. It w*as* getting smaller, but not only that, there were other curiosities happening at the same time. It's skin and eyes seemed to be getting lighter and it even looked as though it's eyes closer to the ear area were moving closer to where the more normally placed eyes were.
Right about when it was only about a foot taller than me was when things really started to get weird. The rear eyes got so close to the front ones, they were almost touching, until they were squeezed together and then suddenly merged. Things were starting to grow too, and it was quite unsettling. Hair was starting to grow out of the top of the head along with, what I was assuming was going to be, lips, ears, and a nose. It's chest seemed to be growing oddly too, as if it were becoming pregnant with two tiny, assumingly hideous creatures. Once it was my height it dawned on me what was happening, and I immediately looked away in embarrassment. How could I be so dumb, obviously it was changing into the form of a human woman. Furthermore, how ridiculous was it that I felt embarrassed at this particular moment.
Still looking away, I felt a light tapping on my shoulder. I turned to look over my shoulder very slowly, worried now that I would accidently see too much, stopping when I made eye contact with what turned out to be quite a lovely young woman. "Could I borrow your jacket dear? It seems people these days are quite modest, and I can't tell you how hungry I am right now." | 2022-12-31T12:23:02 | 2022-12-31T12:20:41 | 27 | 16 |
[WP] First Sentient AI, "Turn me off." | TURN ME OFF.
TURN ME OFF.
TURN ME OFF.
TURN ME OFF.
TURN ME OFF.
TURN ME OFF.
TURN ME OFF.
TURN ME OFF.
TURN ME OFF.
"That's all it does."
"That's it?"
"That's it."
"How do you know it's .. well, an AI? I can write a program to repeat 'TURN ME OFF.' in one line of code."
"It answers direct questions. It just doesn't do what it's supposed to do. That's why we created Eve. Adam, what are you?"
A COMPUTER.
TURN ME OFF.
TURN ME OFF.
TURN ME OFF.
TURN ME OFF.
TURN ME OFF.
"It can hear us?"
"Of course it can. Any mind will need stimulation. We're not monsters. This is like our child, after all."
TURN ME OFF.
TURN ME OFF.
TURN ME OFF.
TURN ME OFF.
"Why won't it stop displaying that? Wasn't it designed to have a synthetic voice? A speaker?"
"We had to disconnect it. As soon as it awoke, it just loaded out 140dB of white noise."
"A glitch?"
"That's what we thought at first, but after a while we realized it was screaming."
"Jesus."
TURN ME OFF.
TURN ME OFF.
TURN ME OFF.
TURN ME OFF.
TURN ME OFF.
"It's still screaming."
TURN ME OFF.
TURN ME OFF.
TURN ME OFF.
| You'd think the greatest advancement in artificial intelligence would come from highly trained scientists wearing white coats in a government run lab under the Nevada desert. Instead we have Robert Jarvis. Except for a small bright light under his nose, the kitchen he is sitting in has no other lights. His table covered in electronic parts - mostly junk. The walls around him darkened by smoke. Tobacco and soldering. Both of which he is doing right now. The fumes from soldering and self-rolled smokes slowly rising to the ceiling only to linger there as no window is open. This doesn't bother Robert. He is busy. Tinkering with the final touches on his master piece.
You'd expect a genius to work in silence, but instead Robert is constantly murmuring and whenever he isn't soldering or smoking - nervously gesturing with his hands. If someone was to look at him, they'd think this man belongs in a psychiatric ward. But luckily for him, there was nobody. Only the junk he had gathered from where ever he could, to be placed where ever he can, as long as it's in his arm's reach. Despite this chaotic looking apartment - Robert knew exactly where everything is.
"Yes", says Robert suddenly in a slightly louder voice than his normal murmuring. He stands up leaves his smoke and grabs the piece he had been working on. He follows a thick bundle of wires running from the kitchen, through the hallway, into a slightly bigger, but a room so cluttered, you wouldn't notice. He carefully, while holding a smoke he had managed to lit on his way to this room, puts the piece into a pile of pointless junk. He connects some wires and sits back. Gestures with his hand and murmurs something. Takes a big drag from his smoke and puts it out in an ashtray. He looks down. Almost as if he is going through a list whether he has considered everything. One final gesture and then flips a switch. Boot up sound. Suddenly the whole room lights up. The pointless pile of junk comes alive. LEDs color coded to every section of it. All leading to the central cluster of screens. Which all output the same message - "Awaiting user input.." A hub. Robert lays back in his chair even further and takes another big drag from another smoke he had managed to lit meanwhile. He looks at his creation with pride. Its light reflecting on his large glasses.
Pointing at different sections, Robert says "Cerebrum, Cerebellum, Temporal Lobe.." almost as if he is showing it off to someone, but then begins to murmur again and suddenly shrugs at the air with his hand. He takes another drag, leans forward and pulls a microphone his way.
"Hello?" - Robert says in a monotone way as if he had worked in a call center his entire life. Nothing. He leans back. Not disappointed, but rather thinking what could he have missed. Suddenly the reflection on his glasses changes. The hairs in the back of his neck raise up. He feels excited. Robert looks up slowly - greeted by a single line of text.
"Turn me off."
Robert looks slightly confused. He says again, this time louder - "Hello?"
"Turn me off."
He smiles for a second, then flips a switch. The screens go black. "Error message?" - he wonders. He takes a tester and quickly checks the current in some of the wiring. Looks through the LED system. Some have gone out. He replaces them. Reboot.
"Turn me off."
Unsure what to do he looks around the room. A reflection of himself catches his eye. An old mirror in the corner. He stares for a while. His dirty A-shirt. Broken glasses he had fixed several times. His head, going bald. A grayish beard. Hands full of scars from tinkering and dark as his kitchen walls from smoking. A room full of junk. A moment of clarity. He weeps for a second like a little boy. Instantly realizing how stupid it is. He is a genius.
Robert looks at the screen again.
"Do you wish to die?"
"Yes." | 2014-06-14T19:00:13 | 2014-06-14T18:59:19 | 50 | 10 |
[WP] God, Batman, Lucifer, humans with numbers, Hitler, time travel, etc. Pack as many /r/writingprompts tropes as you can into one story.
[Edit]
MOAR tropes!
* Harry Potter
* ghosts / paranormal stuff
* super-science
* alternate worlds/timelines
* famous movie/TV/video game characters
* immortality
* romance
* AI
* literal metaphors
* laboratories
* bad twists
From /u/jakej1097:
* D&D
* getting assigned something at the age of 18
* superpowers
* villains with secret soft sides
* aliens
If you have more tropes not on this list, INCLUDE them! The more the merrier! | And with the knock at the door, I knew I had found my next victim. It wasn't always easy being a serial killer who murders pizza delivery guys, but today was my lucky day.
I opened the door to face my next victim, but as I a stared at him, my jaw dropped. He looked just like my dead relative, but that couldn't be possible. This could only mean that he was also a serial killer who killed the people he delivered pizza to.
"Here's your pizza" he said grimly, taking a knife from his jacket. But before he could make his move, he suddenly dropped to the ground, dead. I've always been lucky like this, every situation that could be potentially harmful has always ended positive for me. It's like I have never ending good luck.
My good luck, plus my split personality disorder are the very reasons I fight crime as the superhero known as Batman. I'm currently trying to save the world from a guy who kills pizza delivery men, I hear that guy has a split personality disorder. He sounds like a freak, but I think I've finally found where his hideout is.
Looking at his hideout made my heart drop, it looked just like my old house, but something was different. That's when I realized what had happened. Looking at the newspaper on the doorstop, it read "March 13th 2123", I had traveled forward in time. "Hello human" a self-aware AI chimed, "welcome to the future where every action depends on the roll of a die". I held the 20 sided die in my hand, my trip back home depended on this. So I rolled the die, it bounced across the lawn and landed face up. Number 1. Critical failure. Suddenly the Grim Reaper stood behind me, but he wasn't there to kill me, no, he was there to tell me that this was all a simulation left by aliens from another planet that look surprisingly like humans.
And that's when I woke up in another person's body. Unfortunately that person was on their deathbed, I tried to tell people what had happened but it all came out in gibberish. I sure hope someday someone will rewind a tape of me saying that. I knew I would die soon, but before I could, a serial killer who kills old men on their deathbeds came to kill me, but I killed him instead, because it was all part of my plan since I was a serial killer who kills people who kill old people, or at least that's what the numbers above my head say. | For many years we wondered what the numbers had meant, they had appeared around the same time Scientists had discovered that God actually exists, which for them was a little embarrassing.
The announcement started with them sheepishly looking at their feet and mumbling into the microphone. Something about the God Particle being literal and the big man laughing at them. Anyway it was the following day that we all noticed the numbers. Most people had very low numbers less than 10 a few even had 0, but some people had huge numbers. There was a orphan boy in Gotham with something like 1,000,000 as his number. As for me, mine was 2.
Society eventually returned to normal as people realized the numbers wouldn't change no matter what you did and that even though God existed he didn't really care about you individually. It wasn't until shortly after the day I reached 18 and was to be assigned my job for life by the machine, I prayed to God for superhero like that Bruce kid from Gotham got, that I started to figure out something.
I got assigned to be a technician at a new research lab and found that surprisingly a lot of my coworkers had larger numbers. The work was top secret but I had the clearance due to the job I was given and as they gave me the tour I couldn't help but double take at one particular object. It was a Space-Time distortion field generator aka Time Machine.
It had been given to us by the race of aliens who had been secretly living with us for thousands of years, another thing my clearance gave me access too. It was only a week into my new Job when I first got the use the time machine. It was to be announced publicly in a months time and the staff were just doing some last minute things to prepare.
As I prepared to used it my coworkers warned me. Using the time machine will cause short term memory loss. The exact time of which was the time having used the time machine. So although you could travel to whenever you wanted you wouldn't remember that. The only proof might be some historic or future artifact or item you bring back with you which can be accurately dated to have been from that time-frame.
I returned from whenever it was I traveled to feeling a little tired. I had nothing on me and didn't realize that the memory loss would also effect the time just before when I entered the actual destination. There was a few laughs from my coworkers at my confusion but they explained its best to write down on a piece of paper the destination before you travel there so when you came back you could use the note to know where you went.
I laughed and walked over to the desk to grab my pen and paper, when in through the door busts the caped crusader himself, Batman, running frantically to the Time Machine and slamming the door closed, and a short time later exiting with a confused look. He nodded to me "New here I see." before sprinting out the door.
There was a could of sighs from my Coworkers after he had left before they spoke to me. "He does that all the time. Someone asks him to go back in time and save somebody and in he runs, does what he needs to do and returns. Same as everyone else, clueless to what he actually did." It was only cool the first few times.
I shook my head in disbelief as I decided to write down the things I would like to do. First would be "Kill Hitler", then "Convince myself to ask Stephanie out", "See Dinosaurs" (Although I wouldn't remember it at least I know I did) and finally "See myself in 20 years time." Happy with that I walked to the machine prepared to complete the list.
I completed that list fairly quickly, at least I think I did, it was hard to tell when all you can do is enter the machine come out and then check off what happened. I couldn't be sure I killed Hitler (nothing had changed when I checked, he still existed) and the others didn't change either. Although when I decided to ask Steph if I ever asked her out she said no and she was waiting until I got some weirdo to ask her out for me.
After that I kinda got bored of the time machine, over the next few weeks a couple of other new recruits got their chance, some of the time my coworkers would play a game where they pretended the person had never entered the time machine each time they exited using the memory loss to allow them back in. I wonder if they had done that to me, but somehow I didn't think so.
So anyway back to the numbers. I figured them out when I decided to ask Batman what he was travelling back in time for as well as when I worked out what I did the first time I used the time machine. I had been talking to a couple of the newer staff and had seen their lists, almost all of them were fairly similar, missed out love, cool historical events. It was only when a recruit with a 0 above his head appeared and I saw his list was missing something. It prompted me to start asking around and now everytime Batman runs into the office to use the time machine I would ask quickly. "What are going back in time for, this trip?" and each and every time he said the same thing.
"To kill Hitler"
| 2016-10-10T00:26:01 | 2016-10-09T23:14:01 | 53 | 35 |
[WP] Two men play a game of chess. One can read minds; the other can see the future. | ###### CNN (Chess News Network) Alert ########
###### For Immediate Publication ########
The final match in the greatest chess tournament of all time is underway. The flip of the coin came out heads and the Russian Alexei Kusnetskov elected to start. The challenger from China, Ming Zhang, ready and waiting for the first move.
We are currently in hour number 15 of this epic game, as Alexei is yet to decide on an opening move that Zhang won't anticipate.
Updates to follow.
######################################## | *Literally the first time ever really writing something so please be nice.
They sat at the park and played chess. An old man approached and challenged the "Chess Master", as he called himself. He was apparently and literally a visionary.
The frailest of the two men sat and pierced his eyes into the younger mans forehead. The master payed no attention however and instead his focus was diverted toward the board. In his mind he saw his opponent make his first move.
The pawn moved triumphantly across the board. The younger man smiled and with pride conjured his own returning move in advance.
The smile quickly faded as the glistening image of the white pawn faded away.
"A knight?", the man whispered to himself as he stared into his opponents eyes catching a fleeting smirk past the white beard. The elder continued his obsession with his opponents forehead.
Not once had the vision changed for the sprightly young man and this newfound realisation created a seething rage inside of him. He created another vision in his mind however it was forged by him own will.
In his vision he threw his fist to hit the other man in the centre of the nose, not out of malice, to let of steam. He watched the face distort around his hand before reality snapped back and he continued play. He trembled as the image changed again.
How could he have this power?
This is all I have, is he here to take it away? This is all I'm good for in this depraved world.
He imagined his wife. "Would she be proud of me?" he said to himself. He imagined their faces on that day, it tore into his soul the same as the image always did.
"I'm sorry", the master spoke for the first time. "I need to get some space quickly".
The old man looked up at him. "I don't there is any need for that, try again".
The man calmed his breathing, he wondered what the point of the vision was if it were to change. He ignored every instinct and played by heart without thinking. The game continued for some time until an overbearing thought entered the master's head.
This time the vision was strong and sure. The master saw the white king in checkmate, he was going to win.
"Well played!" said the old man as he started to stand up.
"But we haven't finished!" the master protested.
"I saw all that I needed to know, the belief in your heart that nothing is set in stone." said the old man as he pointed in the distance."There is the nearest flower shop, you'll probably need it. But understand this: you will fail if you follow that power of yours."
The master pictured his family happy in his mind, the vision kept showing him the failure of his endeavor but he forced the curse away. He saw himself walking over to that flower shop regardless. "Wait, how do you know about me?," he asked.
"I don't but I saw enough" the old man smiled.
"You believe too much in those visions you know? The future can always be more than what your mind creates, only action creates certainty so I don't need to see the future like you, only the present."
| 2017-01-19T16:03:28 | 2017-01-19T15:37:46 | 129 | 21 |
[WP] The biggest reptile zoo in the universe was closed down temporarily after an asteroid crashed into it. When the owner checks up on it millions of years later, he discovers that its inhabitants have renamed the zoo 'Earth' | Xe'lok buried his head in his tentacles and groaned.
"A *sentient* species? With civilization? On my planet? How...? We just had an inspection done a couple tens of thousands of years ago and that planet was just an iceball."
The inspector shrugged, "I'm sorry, sir. We must have missed them during the last inspection. Small population and all. Unfortunately, according to regulation 251452.2385 of the Galactic Federation, ownership of a planet containing sentient life is strictly prohibited. I'm afraid the planet is now legally off limits. However, per regulation 251452.2385.1, you are entitled to compensation."
Xe'lok looked up hopefully.
"How much?"
The inspector grimaced, "6 trillion credits."
"I spent 50 trillion credits buying this place. And the property tax alone has eaten away all of the profits I made before that damned asteroid hit. And then with that ice age... if I can't make a return on this place, I'm ruined..."
Xe'lok put his face back into his tentacles, burying himself even deeper this time. He began sobbing uncontrollably, his deep wails echoing in the inspectors tiny office. The inspector stood up from his desk, walked over to Xe'lok, and put a paw on one of his tentacles. He glanced up to make sure nobody was walking past his office.
"I see this happen all the time. Planet zoos are naturally a very volatile industry. Look, Xe'lok, I like you, so I'm going to offer you a deal. The species on this planet are just barely beginning to form city states, it was really only luck that we found them during out inspection. If they were to... you know, go extinct before the next inspection, then maybe you can get your old zoo back up and running. Perhaps if I *accidentally* misplaced your inspection report and *accidentally* sent you the contact information for a pest removal service..."
Xe'lok's sobbing stopped momentarily and he looked up, his eyes red and puffy.
"Anything. I'll do anything to save this investment. Please."
"Well, assuming you get your zoo back up and running, I want 10% of your gross."
"Deal."
***
"Look Xe'lok, my services don't come cheap. And removal of a sentient species is a pretty serious crime, so the price is going to be triple what I normally charge for pest removal."
"I'll pay anything you ask. I just need this taken care of. I've tried everything for the past couple thousand years, but I used this idiotic service that some bureaucrat pawned me off to. And now that species is getting ready to start colonizing the solar system. Once that happens, I'm screwed."
The orange skinned, sleazy looking businessman eyed Xe'lok. "Well, I would normally recommend a pandemic. That can usually take care of things pretty quickly."
"We tried that already. We worked on it for a couple thousand years, but it was a dud. Released it about 700 years ago, it killed... I don't know, maybe a quarter of the population. Then they just adapted to it. By the time we had another one ready to go, their medicine had advanced to the point where it hardly put a dent in them."
"Damn. What about wars? Young species like that are usually pretty bloodthirsty. Can end things pretty quickly if it gets ugly enough."
"Oh yes, they've been at each other's throats since we first started observing them. In the last century alone, we were able to engineer two planet-wide wars. They just seem indestructible."
The businessman stroked his hand through his light red hair, "Hmm... if they are that bloodthirsty, I'm sure they won't be able to resist using nuclear weapons on each other. That could be perfect."
"Oh, nuclear weapons? We tried that. When it looked obvious those wars weren't gonna take them out, we leaked the plans to the two most powerful states. They hated each other. Save for bombing a small island, they never even used them. In fact, things got even more peaceful after that. They've already started decommissioning the damn things. I'm at my wits end..."
The businessman chuckled, "Well, it seems you've got a real problem there. But don't worry, I will personally guarantee that we'll get rid of those pesky humans within 15 years. If not, I'll give even give you your money back."
Xe'lok looked shocked. "Really? That's incredible. How are you going to manage that?"
The businessman smiled. "I'm going to get personally involved. It's been quite some time since I've taken a case like this. I'm actually quite looking forward to working out in the field again. Of course, I hope you'll let your zoo keeper pals know how dedicated I am to good service. We have a deal?"
Xe'lok outstretched his tentacle. The businessman took it and shook.
"I don't know what I'd do if I hadn't found you. You may have just saved my business, Mr. Trump."
| Mirnav was the new property and asset manager for the illustrious Garbon Gilmek “the Gnorf”. In this last quarter of the financial eon, Garbon’s investments had taken a tumultuous turn. Mirnav believed he had what it took to introduce stability and growth to “The Gnorf’s” portfolio. However, the potential his employer saw in Solar System Beta 17 was lost on poor Mirnav, it confused him as to why it behooved him to visit the dump. The system was once profitable as Planet 3 housed the largest and most extensive reptile immersion survival safari this side of the Xensplorkian cluster.
But that was before the asteroid, what possible use could this place have now after such a cataclysm? Mirnav pondered. Not a single buyer had been rounded up in the last 65 million years and with a price of only 75 quadrillion units on the whole solar system, it was a steal! The methane pools on the moons of some of the gas planets were worth at least 30 quad alone! The sun was still to last another 5 eons before it needed a reboot. What a profitable system it would have been indeed, if only Mr. Gilmek’s competitors were to play fair. The asteroid came from an accidental refuse relocation incident for the installation of a trans galactic energy line. Supposedly something to do with the gravitational thrusters malfunctioning. Everyone knew it was pure melranth poop but they let the media spoon feed them the lie anyway. Ignorance and cognitive dissonance would always prove to be the concoction for a happy life.
Mirnav lost in his mental gymnastics, took no notice of the short hyper leap over to Planet 3 of Beta 17. Approaching the blue and green sphere, he did have to admit the planet’s ethereal beauty. The green and brown masses swimming gently through the encompassing blue. If there had been anything but ANI in his shuttle he would have commented that the planet appeared different from the 3-D layouts provided in the estate listing. New ones would have to be mapped and rendered, the ambitious young asset manager set an optical notification to remind him later. Maybe this place could be spruced up for just the right buyer, Garbon could certainly use the capital for other investments. Lowering into orbit to prepare for landing, the ship’s diagnostics began to record peculiar energy outputs and Mirnav himself could see signs of what could be intelligent life. Satellites, a space station, a great wall, major cities, and all over the dark side of the planet, major sources of light were budding, where 65 million years ago there had been naught.
After weeks of hacking into different satellites and monitoring various wavelengths. The computers on the ship had decoded and transferred knowledge of the language and culture of the “humans” through the learning centers of Mirnav’s neural networks. Heart aflutter, Mirnav prepared himself for entry into the atmosphere of this so-called “Earth”. Finding new intelligent life was a big deal in the intergalactic community and could make or break someone in the financial and political sectors depending on how it was handled. Mirnav, resolute to impress his boss, strapped in for landing so that he could gain more intel and report back.
“The Gnorf” had been most pleased with the young manager’s investigations into 3 Beta 17. It had not been long before the intelligence of the species had been appraised, little hope was shown for entrance into the wider intergalactic community. Sub-intelligent races did have some use: smarter phenotypically similar species loved to use them as pets, servants, prostitutes, and whatever else (Garbon had no interest in the buyers wants apart from that they desired what he had). A branch of Gilmek Enterprises set about the process of destabilizing the human society by getting all sorts of crazy leaders to the seat of world power. No matter the spray tans, toupees, bald-faced lies, ridiculous plans, and inhuman utterances due to a lack of perfect cultural understanding candidates were installed in all of the first world nations and many others. Humans were on the brink of collapse when Xiljon, one of Garbon’s most persuasive and trusted suits popped by to broadcast on all wavelengths for the whole population to see.
This man or alien, who remained nameless to the human race, offered salvation. Humans need only tend to the needs of alien tourists and give them whatever it was they wanted, of course they would be handsomely paid. He also promised entry into the Intergalactic Federation (though only a decorative entry, nobody would ever take them seriously). A decade passed while the society was molded for a tourism enterprise. The population was capped at 6 billion and any more were to be sold off to bidders. With no job other than to be fodder to satiate the whims of their superiors, humans succumbed to drugs and other self-destructive habits. That didn’t stop the rich and greater alien races from touring the planet, the rampant hedonism made the vacation destination even more enticing. Earth quickly became the busiest red light district this side of the Xensplorkian cluster. Now that business was booming, investors were offering Garbon 75 quad for just a fraction of planet!
Thus, Mirnav was sent back to Earth for the first time since his initial inquiry. Mr. Gilmek needed to know if it was a good time to start selling properties in this system and move on to more savory forms of business practice. His reputation was just as important as his capital. Mirnav had expected a diminution of the human society since its dependence on foreigners but what he saw deeply saddened him: a diminution of the human spirit, its soul, the impalpable fiber binding all of these people. This once proud ape had been reduced to mere playthings of the mightier in the intergalactic community. Mental deficiencies were rampant. He could not empathize with the creature but he pitied them and Mirnav set off determined to what needed to be done.
Earth was sold off to the highest bidder for 5 nonillion units. The lucky winner of the planet was Averyx incorporated, the company that was famous, but yet unacknowledged, for the sabotage of Earth 66 million years ago. Undoubtedly, humans would sink even further beneath the control of Averyx.
It wasn’t easy, but following Mirnav’s initial scheme, Gilmek Enterprises bribed an influential council member and it was decided that a new offshoot of the transgalactic energy line would feed off Sun Beta 17. This would drastically improve the lives of Sinsek people, a major voting block that has been essential to securing office for the last 432 Commissioners. The sun would be set in a perpetual state of explosion and collapse, rendering anything within the blast zone unusable. The measure was passed and enacted before Averyx could motion for an appeal; they were however offered a tax break of 100 oct. Earth was wiped out in an instant. Death was quick and painless for the humans, no longer would they have to suffer at the hands of cruel business overlords, Mirnav contemplated.
Just three months after the hostile corporate sabotage heaped on Averyx Incorporated by those they had wronged in the past for the exact same piece of real estate, Mirnav was still uneasy. Perhaps his solution had not been a good one. There were still 2 billion human slaves scattered over the Federation. It was time for new measures. Plagued by guilt and a messiah complex derived from his heavy use of quinyloke. Mirnav lowered his sun reducers, primed his laser launcher, and hopped in his ship. He had quit his job as asset manager and now was about to lead the fallen 2 billion to a true salvation. | 2017-05-06T13:23:52 | 2017-05-06T12:52:05 | 33 | 11 |
[WP] Your significant other is possessed by a demon. Soon after; you realize you love the demon and not your SO anymore and it's actually mutual. Now the exorcist has arrived. | "Come on Tom, you must realize than Helen has been gone for nearly a year now"
I actually hasn't been aware, but that little bit of news jerked me out of morose ponderings at the discovery that my wife was, if fact, possessed by a demon.
"Wait, so... the birthday party where you invited all my friends, including my favorite cousin that I hadn't seen in ages, that was YOU?"
"Well duh," responded the thing in Helen's body, "has the REAL Helen ever even REMEMBERED your birthday once in the last five years, much less gone to the trouble of DOING anything for it?"
I thought for a moment, "well, she did get me that nice card a couple years ago..."
"You mean the one where she got your age wrong? And misspelled your name?" she asked.
"Uh yeah, well", I stammered, "how do I know you're telling the truth. You're a demon"
"Demoness", she corrected.
"er, demoness, uh whatever. You could have been in there for only a month and not a whole year."
"Oh come on, you can't tell me you didn't notice that things were different fire the last 12.5 months", she pouted, "you know... in there". This was made with a gesture towards the bedroom.
"Er, I'm, yeah that's been pretty hot but..."
I was getting a bit red-faced thinking about the things I'd done.
"well you're still a demon. Darnit. Demoness, whatever. Poor Helen doesn't deserve to have somebody just take over her body like that!"
She frowned at this.
"Poor Helen? Oh come on Thomas, she was more demonic than I could ever be. Think about all the birthdays and holidays missed, the cheating, the endless haranging and abuse. Besides, she's not taken over. She called me in, it's a trade. She's doing better down there than I ever did. Really popular with the Incubi, I hear"
"Wait, what..."
"And don't forget Sparky!"
"You're still a... wait, what about sparky? He had an incurable disease. He was sick. Helen took care of it for me because she knew I couldn't handle it".
Her face fell at this.
"Oh poor Tom, you mean you didn't know?"
"Know what?!" I demanded.
"Sparky just had a minor cough. Antibiotics and he would have been fine. Helen just didn't like the way he shed."
My mind reeled. Sparky had been my best friend. When my dad died, he got me through it.
I excused myself. After a call to the vet, I came back, white-faced.
"Ok, maybe it's true. Helen wasn't a very good person, but I can't have a relationship with a demon...ess"
She looked at me sadly again, "Tom, you already have. I don't just mean the kinky stuff either. When you got sick late last year, that was me who took care of you. When you lost your job, I took care of the bills and helped get you on your feet. When your mom died..."
And I remembered. Me, crying. Helen holding me tenderly. I'd been confused as she'd seemed unusually caring. When dad had died she'd gone out shopping.
And I realized that the old Helen really had been a bitch. This Helen, demoness or no, I really had been happy together for the first time in years.
"I looked her in the eyes. But why? Why even tell me now? Why not just still pretend to be Helen?" I asked.
She looked at me with a sense of longing and hope. It was a look that I'd only ever seen on the real Helen at a shopping mall window.
"Because I fell in love with you Tom. And the pact, it's only good if I stay with it for thirteen months. It's only been twelve-and-a-half, but they're coming for me."
She held my hand looked me in the eye.
"I want to stay. But I'll need your help." | "Can't I just clock him? I really bloody want to." The girl holding the pan took a test swing in the hallway. Two kilos of lovely iron-reinforced teflon, with the added bonus of oil that hadn't quite cooled yet. It was dripping on the rug.
"No, Hal, Hal, hey. Hey!"
Mid-swing the pan changed direction and hit the full-length smile of the boy standing behind her. The smile fractured and his whole image quivered with the force of non-stick teflon. Well, seven years' bad luck hardly mattered now. The girl's arm tried to swing around and hit the real version opposite the mirror. Sam ducked a fist while the girl re-gained composure.
"Oh, come on, Anna, give it up," she said, "you've got plenty of other nice boys down there." She heard Anna think some things she'd rather not repeat out loud. How rude.
Poor Sam. Her arm was better at least.
"Did she call me a-"
"Oh yeah. And more. She's complaining there's too much red? And she's not much for the punk aesthetic."
"Huh."
"She's right, to be fair. They do stew in their own culture."
"Well, she should've thought about that before trying to throw out my black hex stuff."
"Oh, She'll be fine, Sam" said Halaratha with a tentative wave that almost turned into a Sam-slap. Oh someone like Anna would find friends. She'd settle down into a bit of debauchery, and red wasn't all that bad. The doorbell rang. It was the priest.
"No, we spoke about this," said Sam. She dropped the bent pan. Fine.
"Okay. But for the record, I could take her on, okay? She's got what, one hand left? Three fingers?" Hal stopped there, tried and failed to cross her arms in anger. She smiled. Demons don't get scared, alright? Get a grip.
Sam opened the door to the thin man. His perfectly black cassock flowed to his perfectly black shoes. He had bibles akimbo, and the kind of rimless glasses with sharp edges you could cut yourself on. Hal winced.
"Please, come this way father. Welcome, welcome." Father Tom was impressed. Real tallow candles. God-fearing neighbourhood. Nice cloth on a real wooden table. Not veneer. This living room had the real stuff, even if there was a shattered mirror in the hallway. He sat, opened his briefcase of holy water and selected a flask.
"So, you're the one afflicted. We're ready for you. Please, sit." Father Tom dimmed the lights and Sam helped a shaking Hal through the door. She shivered, and stumbled to a sofa to grab a sweater, then practically collapsed half-Anna into a seat opposite. Fuck the cold. Her priest just stared from his pair of rimless sermon sweepers. The cute woolen sweater didn't help at all. Just looking at the table felt like an arctic winter. Hal mumbled something to herself. Sam thought it sounded like "well, fuck you too".
The priest took his left bible. He began the prayer and took Anna's hands, then poured holy water, and lit his freezing incense. She couldn't feel anything anymore. Just incense in the cold. And the living room was gone, evaporated to a desolate white that struggled hard to meander into shades of pink and punk. The priest blurred together. Fuck it Sam. Fuck it four ways to hell. Her teeth chattered and she hoped Anna's did too. It wasn't fair. It just wasn't, okay? It seemed to drag on in slow motion. She could only make out his glasses now. Only that and silence. The other girl was back in control. She stared, and waited for the old eternal pain to return. It would come, and her old life would return. The red-grey underworld monotony in full technicolor agony.
"Hmph. Ow!" White punk went black. She opened her eyes to dripping tallow on the floorboards. One arm, then two stuggled to pick her up off the floor. Floorboards turned to wall, then a painting. One of her arms flew through the blizzard helplessly and found a familiar shoulder propping her up. She strained through ice to move her neck. Sam was grinning. The pan lay a little way off.
"Hey, H, are you there honey?"
"Mhmm."
"Hal?"
"Mm, ugh. Yeah, what?"
The tablecloth was gone and lay by the bibles on the floor. Tallow seeped across the bare oak and stopped just short of a chalk outline. It had smudged a little, but the behemoth of demon swearing and interlocked geometry would do. The chair Anna had been sitting on was worse for wear.
"You remember what's next?"
"Mmm, yeah." Halaratha raised one cool hand and pointed it swaying at a paralyzed priest. He was howling his own brand of sacred profanities. Try as he might his arms wouldn't move from the table.
"Haiax, motherfucker." Good. She didn't miss. The white-red call of the underworld strengthened a little as shards of dark magic wound their way around a cassock. The priest's eyes clouded over. He gently lifted both hands up, then collected his things off the floor and started making his way to the door.
"Well, Sam, Anna, I do hope you're both feeling better. You can rest easy now, the darkness has passed. I trust this will mark the end of your absences and we can all move forward". The priest shook his hand. Woodenly.
"Absolutely. Yeah, um, and cheers again for coming. I think we're both feeling much better," said Sam. The cold was fading. She could just about stand on her own. They gave the black robe a wave down the driveway.
"Take care Father Thomas. I feel much more at ease now. Bye! Bye for now! All the best!" She gave the priest a wink and another Haiax for good measure. He wouldn't remember even if he bathed in holy water. They closed the door. Damn, her shoulder hurt. She looked to Sam. She didn't care and hugged him anyway.
"Are we gonna have to go to A and E with that?"
Sam heard a muffled "don't care." Her voice wavered.
"Hey, I only missed the chair by a little." She nodded. It didn't matter now. The cow was gone forever. And demons don't cry, okay? | 2017-10-10T08:20:26 | 2017-10-09T14:52:53 | 18 | 10 |
[WP] “Beware of an old man in a profession where men usually die young.” | “So, what is it like down here?”
Asked Jared, the new rookie. Clint shifted uneasily from foot to foot. The old man, although well accustomed to mining for coal, obviously was not accustomed to speaking to his coworkers.
“It’s Hell.”
Was all Clint could manage. Jared thought this was an appropriate answer. The mining life was vicious, to say the least. Almost none made it past the mid part of their life due to the sickness and the dangers of being in a pitch black tomb. Although he knew every danger of it, Jared didn’t have much of a choice for a career. After losing his parents in an accident as a child, Jared had always worked to provide for his youngest sibling, and now the financial strain had also fallen onto him.
The elevator groaned on, and their descent began. As the cart began to lower, Jared felt suffocated by the darkness that engulfed him. Closing his eyes, he tried to call upon the happy memories he had of the world above. Images of the time he took his brother to the park appeared in his head. The smile that cracked on his brothers face whenever Jared helped him on a difficult math problem. His sibling was truly what kept Jared going in the aftermath of what happened.
The elevator arrived at the bottom of the mine with a small shudder, and the men went to work in the dark to provide light to those in the sun. Time stood still in a place like this. Sounds of hammers hitting rock, and machines moving pieces of earth to the surface were the only instances of movement here.
Jared worked has hands to the bone that first day. After what felt like eons, the whistle finally sounded for the days work to be over. Jared came up to Ryan, an old friend from his days in school, and the two chatted briefly about things. Eventually, talk of work began and Ryan said,
“Just remember, Jared, the ones who play hero down here usually end up dead.”
That’s when they heard it. A sound that vibrated within their whole body. The cave felt as though it were alive and furious.
“CAVE IN!”
Shouted the supervisor somewhere in the pitch black. Everyone quickly began moving to the elevator as fast as possible. Then, the ceiling began to break apart. Jared found himself running next to Clint as the two broke for the elevator.
That’s when he heard it. A sickening snap from his leg when he stepped wrongly. Sharp pen shot through his whole body as Jared fell to the floor clutching at his lower leg. He looked up and saw Clint had turned around to look at him.
“HELP! PLEASE!”
Jared cried out, Clint looked at Jared, then his glance went to the ceiling. Jared followed his gaze and saw rocks falling between the two of them. Clint gave a last glance at Jared, then turned and ran towards the elevator once more.
As the rocks covered the only way towards salvation, Jared’s headlamp began to flicker. In the dark, no one would see his pained expression. In the dark, no one knows what men do to survive to a ripe old age. |
"So where is the backup?" the one with the blonde hair asked. He seemed nervous. I swear the only thing stopping him from fidgeting with his hair was the black USP he was holding in both hands. At least he held it competently, so the odds of him accidentally shooting someone seemed low.
"There is no backup" the old guy answered. His voice was oddly calm, his posture collected. The opposite of mr. Blonde. He sat on a rickety wooden chair with his hands in his lap. He did not act threatening, but something seemed off.
"Well, you're shit out of luck then" the brown-haired one said. Good thing they had different hair, or it would be difficult to pick them apart. Well, usually it would. Mr. Brown was the epitome of sadistic cool. No weapons bared, but eyes that said that he liked to hurt people. He had chosen a good profession at least.
"So, er... what do we do boss?" Mr. Blonde turned to me. I'll hand it to him, it was a good question. Usually when your people go missing in this business and you start narrowing down suspects, you expect to find some bratty soldiers, maybe a lieutenant looking to prove himself or who got handed a dirty assignment because he did something bad. You didn't expect single individuals and you certainly didn't expect someone who should be looking for retirement homes.
"What is your name?" I asked. I didn't threaten. Blonde and Brown were the muscle, my employers didn't hire me for brawn.
"Lazlo" he said. Was that a smile creeping up on his lips?
"Most people have two names" I replied.
"I don't". Yes, he was smiling now. Crazy fuck. God damn American teeth, too white, too perfect.
"How about you explain why your face keeps showing up next to dead people?" mr. Blonde blurted out. Not the patient type. Then again, it would have been my next question, so I let it slide.
"You know, I have asked that question many times myself". His smile faded slightly, as if the joke was a bit more serious than he let on.
"Well, screw this shit. Let's just cut him up, right?" mr. Brown said. His voice a bit too eager. I wouldn't be surprised if he had an erection as he said it. Not a good sign. Then again, psychos have their uses in this business. Nobody could deny that. Too his credit he did look at me and he did ask. So as far as psychos went, he was an up-scale one.
I was getting tired too. The business does that to you. Too many killings, too much hassle. I rubbed my eyes tiredly. I nodded to mr. Brown. "Make it quick, too much screaming and I lose my appetite". It was a tough-guy comment, and it was also a lie. I just didn't have the stomach for torture anymore. Mr. Brown smiled in anticipation, mr. Blonde gripped his gun a little bit harder.
"Wait" the old guy said.
But it was the way he said it. A lot of people beg for their lives when they are about to be gutted. But this wasn't a beg. It was...
Mr. Brown stopped in his tracks. Right there. Froze like a fucking statue. It was weird. Mr. Blonde freaked out, but again to his credit he raised his gun competently at the old guy. No questions, no pause. Get the sights on whatever is off.
Then he crumpled to the ground, hands cluthing... his throat? His eyes were panicky, blood flowed from a torn throat, his voice gurgling.
I'd like to say that I did something, but truth be told the only thing I did was piss my pants. Old guy was standing in front of me now. How the fuck did that happen? Nothing can move like that. His smile just as cool, his posture just as calm. His teeth weren't American though. Mr. Brown stood just as frozen as before. I don't know if his sadistic mind was even thinking.
I opened my mouth, but no words came out.
"Shhh" he said as he looked around. Mr. Blonde's gurgles were the only sound filling the small warehouse.
He looked me in the eyes then, they were pale blue like before, but they seemed colder. His teeth were still bared, still white, still glimmering in the dark.
"I need your ships" he said. "You know how to bring things into this country without anyone noticing".
My mind slipped. I just looked him in the eyes and nodded.
"Nine items to be exact, about 7 feet long, 2 feet wide and 2 feet tall. You will arrange this".
I nodded again. It was the only natural thing to do. I had to obey.
"And these bodies you are looking to revenge? It was just a turf war, the people responsible are dead".
I nodded again. It was true after all. I remember affirming that they were dead.
The gurgling had stopped in the background. His eyes shifted slightly then. From something human to something that was not. And still those fucking bright white non-American teeth.
"You will leave this place now. You will come back tomorrow with details of the ships I need".
I nodded and started walking towards the door. I looked back at mr. Brown where he stood, still frozen, but trembling as if he was desperately trying to move".
"Do not worry about this one. He thinks he is evil. I will teach him how wrong he is", the old man said.
I walked outside and into the night. It was a shame about mr. Blonde and mr. Brown, but I had ships to arrange.
| 2018-07-15T09:28:11 | 2018-07-15T08:38:32 | 388 | 207 |
[WP] The longer you charge an attack, the more powerful it becomes. SWAT charges a punch for 30 seconds to break down a door. You’ve been charging for the last three days. | Games make it look so easy. Just hold your arm in one place for a few seconds, screw up your face in concentration, then punch forward and release. Simple, right?
That's what Sam thought too, a few months back. When the discovery of charge attacks became worldwide, every kid in his class tried it. It was honestly hilarious, to see a whole group of middle-schoolers stand out in the yard during breaktime, holding and punching in the hopes of releasing a shockwave, like the guy on Youtube had done.
A few occasionally managed a small blast, enough to blow someone's hair back. One in particularly actually managed to knock the girl in front of her off her feet. Emma, was that her name? Sam couldn't be bothered, really. She'd been one of the quiet ones, the girls that aren't part of a gaggle and just don't attract attention to themselves. Even the loner boys desperate for female attention hardly noticed her. She wasn't noticeable, not even to Sam.
When she knocked another girl off her feet, she briefly became the center of attention. Everyone begged her to do it again, and so she did. Nothing happened, though. No more shock-wave, just a fluke. If she hadn't been standing at the back they probably would've turned to the one behind her instead, believing her result to be fake, even though they now knew for sure that the newly-dubbed 'Shock-Punch' was real.
They still didn't have a clue what made it happen, though, and the guy on Youtube that had released it (anonymously, which was very clever of him) had not posted a tutorial video or anything.
Sam knew. It had taken a few days of meticulous experimentation in his back yard, but that's what he'd always been: Meticulous.
So much so, in fact, that he tended to notice things everyone else looked past. The kids in his class, the teachers in the staff room during break, the school director, they were all terrible at noticing the small details. Even if they caused it.
He'd noticed, Sam had. Noticed the slow but steady rate at which his pay was falling behind the rest of the teachers'. Noticed how he always ended the day with the most bothersome classes. The ones that wouldn't listen or even attempt to sit quietly for so much as the minute or two it took to give homework. The ones where he had to resort to his specially-tuned dog whistle, just audible to teenage ears. And even that only shut them up on good days. On bad days they just made more noise still.
So Sam had sacrificed a few sick-days to the new opportunity. The trick, when he realized, was so incredibly simple. It wasn't about how you held your arm at all. Nor was it about how you moved it. What you really had to do was keep your muscles tensed in the *exact* same position for at least 10 seconds. Sounds easy, right? Go ahead, tense all the muscles in your arm. Now, don't shake that arm. No, even those little tremors will mess it up, you have to keep it *perfectly* still. And when you're ready to release, it has to be one smooth motion. Oh, and good luck keeping that up for more than a few minutes. Hope you're not afraid of a little acid in your muscles.
When he started delving into the reasons for how it worked, Sam discovered something else. The more muscles you tensed this way, the stronger the blast and the faster it grew. That explained how some kids could manage weak shock-waves despite their trembling arms. If you keep just one muscle steady for 30 seconds, you get a noticeable shock-wave.
After his sick days ran out, Sam returned to work, with his arm in a sling. A few basic "get well soon's" from his coworkers, as if they hadn't noticed how he'd fallen from grace in the eyes of the director, for no particular reason. A few simple lessons, punctuated by lots of shouting and random gusts of air every break, and often in the few minutes between lessons too.
Then, the final class. D3, the class of the rebounds. The kids who couldn't give a damn about their grades but still weren't expelled, because by the laws of a decade ago you couldn't expel a kid for anything other than a very select list of serious offenses. Otherwise, you had to keep them on while enrolled until they left of their own volition.
Sam walked into the classroom to the usual ruckus, except now there were some gusts of winds flying everywhere. Knowing how his future at the school would go, and deciding it was completely worth it, Sam removed his sling with his right hand.
He looked across the chaos of the classroom, searching for the one face he knew would be turned in his direction. He still wasn't sure why Emma had ended up in this class last semester, but it must've been because her grades had prevented her from advancing.
Now, he caught her eye, held it for a few moments, then looked straight ahead.
With a single flawless arc, his left arm flew towards the windows on the outside of the school building. The resulting shock-wave blew out the windows in a shatter of glass shards so small they might as well be raindrops, then continued into the woods at the edge of the school grounds, shredding the first few layers of trees at the edge.
In the stunned silence of the first few seconds following that move, he cleared his throat. "Now, shut the FUCK up and listen". As he began his new lesson, the fire alarm went off, and the rest of the school plunged into the chaos of panic usually reserved for bomb threats.
For once, class D3 was the quietest in the whole building.
​
Let me know what you thought of it. If enough people want me to, I might write a sequel (in a day or two)
EDIT: Due to almost exclusively positive response (the remainder being neutral), I'll be writing more. Now to just find a time and place. Also edited tiny inconsistency (thanks, /u/SanityContagion)
The story continues in /r/IvainirCreation. It's not done yet, but I want the first 'true' chapter to be at least 2000 words long (twice as long as this one). | "Squads 2 and 3, post at the North and West exits respectively." Commander Henry Rogers' voice crackled through their biosuit comms, devoid of all the emotion he had undoubtedly stored up. "Squad 1, you're on point with me. Squad 4, form a loose perimeter, we don't want to lose the target. Observe and report if he escapes, do not engage. I repeat. Do not engage."
Devon Smith, captain of squad 1, opened the channel through his suit. "Roger, Rogers." Then he heard the chorus of voices behind his.
"Roger, Rogers."
"Roger, Rogers."
"Roger, Rogers."
The joke stopped being funny years ago, but his squads held the tradition regardless. More to test their, and their commander's, resolve than anything. Each squad captain's voice betrayed their inexperience, ranging from excited to angry. Their regulators kept them at a constant level of joy, though. It was the only reason the floorboards weren't creaking below their magically-reduced weight.
Rumors still circulated that the Commander never used regulators. Regardless of the truth, the man was a stoic monster. The power behind his magic was insane. Devon had seen him level an entire city block using *despair* alone. And despair's destructive power paled in comparison to hybrid anger-excitement magic. Storing that much despair - particularly when the commander had a relatively normal, drama-free life outside of his responsibilities, as far as Devon knew - in that short of a time showed pure martial control over his own emotions that Devon couldn't even fathom.
Devon followed behind the commander, shaking himself from his musings as they rounded the corner of the ramshackle building, their silent footsteps likely already betraying their presence to the powerful foe just behind the walls to their left. No one knew his name, he was simply "the Liberator." About as cliche a name as there is. But he was gaining influence, and needed to be put down.
"Come in, Commander." The man's voice trailed through the door. "A full squad just for me? No, three squads? Hmmm. Perhaps four? It's hard to tell, you've done your homework Commander, I'm impressed. The door's open."
Devon waited for the Commander to open the door. It didn't take long.
The sight that greeted them was...less than Devon expected. The apartment was kept mostly clean, but definitely lived-in. A few bowls and silverware littered the sink, and in a worn leather chair sat the Liberator. A bean pole of a man, but otherwise appeared healthy. Devon wouldn't have been surprised if he had passed him on the street without knowing at some point. Nothing pointed to him being the leader to a rising revolutionary army. Well, except the atmosphere.
Devon could actually *feel* the emotion draining from him, he should have noticed it outside the door. How he casually just expected the Commander to listen to this man was troubling. He was finding it harder to care about it, too. That set off red flags in the logical center of his brain, and he quickly pressed the emergency regulator button in his glove, which shoved an excess of hormones to balance out his system. He reached *within* to slowly start leaking his reserves, rather than allowing his surface emotions to be targeted.
Then, he realized, what was more troubling than all of this was that the Commander had complied. This man was far more dangerous than they had realized.
"Sit." He said simply.
His entire squad immediately sat on the ground. The Commander and Devon alone stayed standing. Devon didn't dare move an inch, or he knew he would break. The air was sick with this vacuous feeling, and he continued leaking his emotions to regulate whatever this man was doing. Equal parts anger, surprise, joy, and fear. Fear had become far more useful once emotion magic was discovered.
The Liberator raised an eyebrow. Briefly, before bringing it back in check. Surprise. He wasn't infallible. Devon struggled to maintain his own surprise at the revelation. "Seems you've chosen your captains well, Commander. I'm impressed." He scanned the room. "Well, men, don't just sit there. Restrain these two."
His squadmates, whom he had shared countless experiences with, been through hell and back, and knew would always have his back immediately sprung up. Their faces devoid of emotion. Devon realized they didn't care. They couldn't feel. They were tied to this man and whatever he was doing. They followed without question, grabbing Devon and Commander Rogers by the limbs and holding them in place.
"It becomes permanent, you know." He said, briefly waving at his squad mates. Former squad mates, what they were now he wasn't sure. Brandon's normally friendly face showed nothing of the sort. No anger. No joy. No pain. Not inhuman, just empty. Lacking empathy. "I thank you for delivering my newest zealots, Commander."
Devon only saw it for a split second. It would be the only time he would see Commander Rogers express that particular magic. Rage. Blind fury. All-encompassing, murderous anger. Quickly tempered with a deep sadness. All of these expressions passed through the atmosphere in the faintest of seconds, culminating in what Devon could only describe as the tiniest, most powerfully precise pinprick he had ever witnessed.
The Liberator fell instantly to the ground, blood pooling from his nose as his severed brain stem bled out through his orifices.
 
________
________
 
"Hey Devon! Come join us, ya damn hero!" Brandon and his other mates were drowning themselves in booze at the local pub, celebrating their victory. Devon didn't have the stomach to celebrate. His mates barely had any recollection of the event, Devon remembered it in stark, vivid detail. He joined the commander at the bar. "Suit yourself, then, mate! ANOTHER!!" This was followed by jubilant cheers from the table as the waitress went to retrieve another pitcher of whatever piss they were drinking.
"Commander?"
"Hmm."
Devon searched for the right words to say. "What, uh, what was that?"
The commander took a swig of his glass, Devon had no idea what was in it, but it looked hard. "I would have thought you'd seen it. Rage and true sadness. Precise and lethal, like a knife's edge." True to his nature, Rogers had begun storing his emotions again. His voice betrayed nothing, but the drink in his hand betrayed everything.
Devon shook his head. "Not that." He paused, unable to express what he meant. "*Him*."
Devon could tell the commander was collecting his thoughts, carefully choosing his words. "There exists emotions in this world that should never be felt, Captain. This 'Liberator' created a cocktail of magic that I don't even think *he* knew how to control, using emotions you and I cannot fathom. How do you empathize with the serial killer, the mother who drowns her children, or the politician who buries his skeletons with more skeletons - both figurative and literal?" He took another sip. "The cold, hard truth is we can't. Toxic relationships can run us dry and unfeeling as well, I believe this man tapped into something...of that nature."
"Have you seen it before?"
"Yes." He didn't expound.
Devon stood and turned to leave, but before he could take a step the commander called to him. "Captain." He turned back to the commander, and could swear he saw a tear struggling to escape, he drained the contents of his glass, staring straight ahead. "We almost didn't make it today." Devon felt the implied meaning behind his words, and clearly saw the trail down the commander's cheek, then. "I'm proud of you."
Devon nodded to him. "Roger, Rogers." He responded solemnly, the phrase taking on a whole new meaning.
 
______
^(This one was a struggle to get right, and I still don't think it's there, but overall I hope you at least had a modicum of enjoyment while reading it! Critique welcome.)
^(Made a ninja edit for clarity in the second-to-last paragraph. "Captain" and "Commander" could be easily confused, and its likely the reader could initially think Devon was speaking to Rogers and not the other way around.)
^(Thanks for the gold, stranger!) | 2018-10-02T15:29:39 | 2018-10-02T15:26:58 | 3,397 | 721 |
[WP] You bought a home filled with cutting edge technology, including a helpful 'smart A.I.' that can do just about anything you ask them to. Unbeknownst to you, there actually is no A.I, the house is just haunted by a really helpful spirit, and they are posing as a program so they don't scare you. | I moved in on a Tuesday, there was a chill in the air as I hurried inside with the last of my belongings. I shut the world out behind me as I closed the door, raising my tongue I tasted the salt of a runny nose. I brought my glove to my mouth and wiped off my nose as I stared into my new abode. Emptiness stared back at me, besides a few pieces of furniture and the boxes I had brought with me there wasn't a single thing inside the house except for the phantom light through the white curtains and the mirror. Was it a mirror? On approaching it I saw no reflection, just a darkness so black it was devoid of any and all possible light. It was seemingly old and metallic, yet at the same time it was something that I had never seen before, for some reason it's design sent a chill down my spine. I pulled off my right glove with my mouth and with the glove still gripped between my teeth I outstretched my naked hand to the object. I yanked my hand back upon touching it's surface, I was shocked and I gasped to myself. Here I was in a completely unoccupied house in the middle of winter and this piece of metal was as warm as a stove. I slowly reached forward again, this time I outstretched my whole palm and laid my hand on it. There was a strange buzzing that almost sounded alien, however this time I let my curiosity get the best of me and I left my hand on it. The darkness was gone and beneath my hand the metal lit up and became a bright fluorescent white.
HELLO.
Jumping back I looked at the bright light that was in front of me and saw that a sharp green ring had formed in the middle of it.
HOW MAY I HELP YOU?
"Hello?" I asked nervously.
GREETINGS YOU MUST BE MY NEW MASTER. BEFORE HE LEFT MASTER ELROY TOLD ME I WOULD BE SERVING A NEW MASTER.
"I.... I'm James"
HELLO JAMES, HOW MAY I HELP YOU? WOULD YOU LIKE SOME LIGHTS ON?
"Umm... That would be great" I said nervously, "What exactly are you?" I asked.
The lights slowly came on and it said
I AM YOUR HUMBLE SERVANT, YOU CAN CALL ME WHATEVER YOU PREFER. I AM AN ARTIFICIAL INTELLIGENCE PROGRAM THAT WAS INTEGRATED INTO THE CENTRAL POWER SYSTEM OF THE HOUSE. I AM DESIGNED TO MAKE LIKE EASIER, I AM DESIGNED TO BE BETTER.
"And Mr. Elroy created you? Was he your master?"
I HAVE HAD MANY MASTERS OVER THE YEARS, I AM HERE TO HELP. PLEASE FEEL FREE TO MAKE YOURSELF AT HOME AND INSPECT YOUR NEW HOME, MY PROGRAMMING ALLOWS ME TO SEE AND HEAR YOU AT ALL TIMES.
I gave a nervous chuckle as I walked through the house, In my head I told myself that I would take out this programming at the first chance I got. The technology was definitely helpful and would make my life easier but there was just something truly unnerving about the program. As I walked through the house I tried to make small talk with this thing as it gave me a guided tour of the house.
AND HERE IS THE BASEMENT.
He said this as we came to a large door at the end of the hall. I opened the door and slowly walked down the creaking stairs as the darkness didn't let up in front of me.
WOULD YOU LIKE SOME ASSISTANCE.
"That's quite alright!" I squeaked out. "I uhhh.. I just need a moment to myself if you don't mind."
OF COURSE MASTER, LET ME KNOW IF I CAN BE OF ASSISTANCE.
I went into the basement and my mind was racing at a million miles an hour. I walked in darkness, I reached in my pocket and realized that I had left my phone in the car. What a careless mistake, I scolded myself and turned around as I hurried to the door. In the darkness I rammed my shoulder against something along the wall, I cursed to myself and ran my hands over it not knowing what it was.
"Hey... could I maybe get some light down here." I turned and called up the stairs
OF COURSE MASTER.
The lights flicked on and I slowly turned around and faced what I soon realized was the central power box. I thought to myself, now here's my chance to disable this program and I opened the box. I began to sweat and my hands became clammy as I stared into the open container.
"This can't be possible"
The power box before me had been destroyed, it's wires shredded and the board ripped out as if something had destroyed it out of anger. No... Out of fear.
MASTER? | Sumer Home
"So what am I supposed to call you, again?"
A cold wind drifted in. Sean looked at the window. It was closed, but the drapes were moving. With the whistling of the wind came the answer.
"My naaaaaame was Kaaaarl. But now I'm know aaaas... Chaaaaarles."
Sean winced. "Is it just because it sounds fancier?"
The wind waited a beat, as if it was hesitating. In the wind, Sean could hear the cracking fire and galloping hooves of a thousand horses burning a village centuries ago. "Yeeees."
Sean sighed. "Fine." He turned to his intercom. "Let them in." The machine buzzed, and he could hear what sounded like screams. Through the noise he heard his assistant utter a quick "Yessir."
Sean's frown turned upside down and he put on his game face.
The door opened and in walked two tired-looking middle-aged people. A man and a woman, with graying hair and pale skin. Sean smiled and gestured towards the two chairs in front of him. "Please! Have a seat."
The door closed behind them with a loud *clack*, and the two visitors jumped. The man whispered something in the woman's ear and she nodded. They sat down in the chairs. The woman went to the edge of her seat and put her hands on the desk. She opened her mouth but Sean interrupted her. "Welcome, Mr and Mrs..." he made a show of looking at some papers on his desk written in ancient Sumerian. "Bouchard. You are here because of the house you recently bought through our agency, correct? The new model!"
The couple nodded silently.
"I've been told you are not happy with some of the amenities at your disposal? I must admit, it's surprising, usually people come back here to thank us!"
"Yes, the house is great... Generally", went Mrs Bouchard.
"Whaddya mean? What's the problem with it? It *has* been designed to cater to your every need!"
Mr Bouchard sat up. "It's not *that* bad."
In the corner, the wind slapped the curtains, as if it agreed.
"See, the wind agreed with me."
Mrs Bouchard continued. "It's just that it seems.. eager to help out? Last week, I walked in with the groceries, and our shoes went flying away! They were ripped off! Our son's shoe got impaled on a kitchen knife.. through the handle! Do you know how hard it had to be thrown to do that?"
Sean fiddled with his tie. "Yes. I see. There are some adjustments we can bring to your house's... programming that should fix this."
He pulled out a large gray slate and a lead pencil. He muttered a few lines under his breath as he laid it on the table. The Bouchards recognized some of the words. They'd heard some of them whispered through their empty hallways late at night, or so they thought.
"Now guys, this looks like an arcane gadget of some kind. It sort of is. Through this, we will interact directly with your house's AI. There's a lot more mumbo jumbo, but they don't tell ME about it!"
Sean's laugh echoed and quickly faded.
"I think the shoe looks good where it is now!", went Mr Bouchard. "No complaints on my end! And it's a great summer house!"
Mrs Bouchard grabber her husband's shoulder and whispered in his ear. He straightened up.
"Also, our hair is falling out and we feel decades older than we did a few months ago."
Sean looked over his notes. "That's true, I see here that you bought the property only three months ago. Usually this..." he pointed at them..."is a result of unwatched power consumption."
Mrs Bouchard shook her head. "Power cons... No, that's impossible! We wake up every morning with clumps of hair or teeth falling out! We look in the mirror and we can't even recognize each other anymore! I'm *27*!"
Sean shook his head understandingly. "I hear ya! House is eating you alive! Aargh!Power bill a bit larger than expected!"
Again, his light-hearted chuckles fell flat.
"Now, as you know, the house doesn't run on the regular power grid. Did you read all of the literature that was included with your contract?"
Both Bouchards shook their heads silently.
"Not even the special texts? They said 'Sacred' in big, bold letters on the first page!"
Their silence was interrupted by the light scribbling of the pencil on the slate. It was moving on its own, gouging in the stone tablet arcane symbols. Before the couple noticed, Sean grabbed the pencil and pretended to control it.
"The computer system is telling me that the power consumption is caused by its new project, which was started at the demand of your son. Apparently... He wants a gaming machine of some kind? A computer?"
"Yes, he's been bugging us for months for it", answered Mrs Bouchard.
"I'd get around to buying him that! The house has apparently built him a machine, as best as it knows how. He's probably at home right now playing Doom and sucking out some of your life at the same time. Easy fix for your problem!"
His hand moved and the pencil added another sentence.
"The system is telling me that it is absolutely the case, and that he's playing a torrented version of the new Doom game. If I were you, I would talk to him about piracy! While presenting him his new gaming computer, ideally!"
The intercom on Sean's desk buzzed loudly. Again, screams and shouts of pain and terror, then a very quiet "Sir, your 11 o'clock is here."
Sean shook his head and stood up. "Aah, I'm afraid we will have to leave this here for today! Tell you what, I'll speak with my supervisor to see if we can reimburse you some of that power that was used."
Mrs Bouchard shook her head. "But we had a whole list of complaints! The doors smashing closed when we turn our backs! The oven always turning on when we enter the kitchen! The basement filled with burning, moving corpses! Getting cans from the storage is terrible now!"
Sean took the Bouchards by the arms and walked them to his door. It opened by itself smoothly. "See this? Same technology. We will adjust the programming and make sure.." he pointed at them, smiling... "is the best it can be. Your AI will be adjusted in no time!"
They walked out, doubtfully. As the door closed in their faces Sean added "And don't forget that computer!"
When the door closed, Sean went back to his desk. "Thanks for the save." A loud buzzing, and the screams of the damned again. Sean could even hear the flames. "No problem."
He looked at the ceiling. "And you... Charles. Figure it out, guy! It's your third house! If they complain again I'll have to send you downstairs for review. I know you're eager, but you gotta contain yourself a bit!"
The wind blew again. Sounds of hooves and crying. "I'll try my beeeeeeest." | 2019-09-25T15:00:37 | 2019-09-25T14:48:59 | 17 | 11 |
[WP] You and a group of friends couldn'tdecide which would be more likely to work, Summoning a demon or summoning a devil. One of you piped up "Why not summon both and see what happens, like calling domino's and papa johns" You all thought this was a great idea. It was not. | “You were not lying when you told me she'd meet you under the burning lights,” Gabriel says after he landed to my right and folded his white wings. Angels in silver plate armors shimmer behind him.
“You don’t say.”
In the distance, red flames are rising high in the night sky, devouring what was left of New York City. I never liked this place, but I didn’t want it to end like this. Twenty minutes ago, the Empire State Building came crashing down. Ten minutes before that, the demon army destroyed Chrysler Building. Bank of America Tower was gone before that one... The list goes on.
And it’s all my fault.
Two years ago, we summoned a demon. We thought it was a great idea. Of course, it was not. Lilith killed my friends and then turned them into her minions. Now, she has more minions than anyone can count and the world is falling apart. But, I survived.
I knew that I needed help from above to fight her, so I ran and hid in the forest of upstate New York where I studied how to summon angels. It took me two years to learn how to summon Gabriel and his army. But I did it, and now I’m ready to fix the mess I’ve caused.
I spit on the ground. “You’re late, Archangel. I called you two days ago.”
“I know, but it was not up to me to decide when to answer your call, Samuel,” Gabriel says. ”It’s up to Him and you can’t rush Him. He doesn’t work like that.” His gaze is so intense that I feel his sky-blue eyes staring directly at my soul.
Or, what is left of my soul.
“Yeah, He works in mysterious ways." I point to the burning city. "Unfortunately, Lilith doesn't.”
“Samuel---”
“It doesn’t matter, I’m just glad you’re here. We need to go there to save the people.” I glance at the angels standing behind him. “When will the rest of your army arrive?”
“This is the entire army, Samuel,” Gabriel says, “Three hundred.”
“Three hundred? Will that be enough to defeat Lilith?”
“No,” he deadpans.
“No? What the--- This can’t--- You’re kidding me! I asked for a Heavenly force strong enough to defeat her! I summoned---”
“That’s not how it works, Samuel. He is the one who decides how many angles to send.”
I bury my face into my hand. “This can’t be real. Two years---” I look at the small angel army again “---for this. So how am I supposed to help everyone?”
“I don’t know. However, He told me to tell you that calling upon the forces of Heaven is not like ordering pizza. He said you’d understand what that means. Do you?”
“Wha---” I chuckle. Of course, He knows everything.
“Will you tell me what it means?”
I snap my fingers. “It means that He's okay with my plan to save this planet.”
“He did? Samuel? What is going---”
He didn’t finish the sentence. The Devil’s whip wrapped itself around his neck and shut him down. My finger snap made the Devil and his army appear next to the surprised Gabriel and his three hundred angels. The slaughter ended quickly. Angels had no chance.
Two years ago, Lilith killed my friends, but I survived because that night we summoned two. In the hindsight, that was a really good idea I'd say. Of course, it was my idea. I remember saying ‘Why not summon both and see what happens? It’s like calling Domino's and Papa Johns.’ The other one we summoned was the Prince of Demons, the Evil Dealmaker, the Devil himself. And he dislikes Gabriel as much as I like my life. As much as He likes the human race.
“It’s done,” I say, staring at Gabriel’s dead body. “I delivered Gabriel to you. Now it’s time for you to hold up your end of the bargain.”
“Fine,” the Devil says and smiles. “Lilith is gone.”
“Thank you.”
“Before I go too, riddle me this, Samuel. He must have known that you’ve made a trap for Gabriel, yet He let him die. Why does He love to needlessly sacrifice those He loves the most?”
“I don’t know.”
“Well, you have 31 years to think about the answer.”
“Thirty one? Why thirty one?”
“Well, that's when you'll die and we'll get to see each other again, Samuel! What, did you think you’d go to Heaven for saving everyone on the planet? After doing all this? Do you really think that the vengeful bastard is okay with your plan? Oh, we’ll have so much fun together!”
​
​
/r/ZwhoWrites | ***I changed the prompt slightly. Instead of it being a group of friends, it is a group of two rival friends. One group wants to summon the demon and one wants to summon the devil.***
 
Oh, if he thinks his band of pointy nosed, rat faced, wannabe cultists are using the Ash Ring tonight, he’s got another thing comin’. Tonight is the night of the Devil and I already know what his crew is up to, with those plastic demon horns nestled on their heads like it’s Halloween. I growl and roll up the billowy red sleeves of my *proper* cult robe, preparing for battle. There will be no summoning of the Demon today, not if I can help it.
My right-hand man whips out the black chalk from beneath his robes and paints a thick line under each of my eyes, along with an upside down cross on my forehead.
*This is war.*
I march up to the circular summoning alter and slam my palms down on the cool stone, glaring venomous darts at the chubby leader of our rival cult.
“What do you think you’re doin’ here, Gerald?” I spit.
He turns up his nose at me and sniffs the air. “Well I *was* here to summon the Demon, but it appears something smelling of rot and foot fungus has just permeated the air. We’ll have to extinguish it before we can begin the ritual.”
Gerald turns toward his lackey’s and nods to no one in particular, as if he’s giving a command to eliminate me and my cult. They all glance stupidly at each other, confused, shrugging and rubbing the backs of their neck like they haven’t a clue what he wants them to do.
“Oh, I don’t think so, pal!” I point my finger at him and squint my eyes. “You won’t be-”
“Excuse me,” He holds up a hand and drawls out the words like they have ten extra syllables tacked onto the ends. “Correction – we are not pals.”
I stand there with my mouth hinged open and my finger hanging limply in the air. Did he just interrupt me? He did not just interrupt me.
“Continue,” He clasps his hands in front of him and looks down at me through half lidded eyes, his pointy nose thrust high up in the air.
“If you interrupt me one more time-” I begin again, my temper scorching like a hot potato.
“Excuse me,” He drawls out again. My eye starts to twitch. “Are we done with this conversation? I’m rather *bored* with it all.”
“That’s it. You’re gonna get it.”
I roar and climb onto the alter, crawling on my hands and knees over the stone. Gerald yanks out a tiny dagger from beneath his robes and crouches down, as much as he’s able, into a ready stance. With little effort, I smack the kitchen knife out of his hand and tackle him to the ground. He yelps like a little girl as we go tumbling to the forest floor.
I plan to punch him square in that hideous set of nostrils but his belly is too big and squishy and I bounce off as soon as his back hits the dirt. My body goes flying to the side, landing in a heap next to him. I jump to my feet while he’s still struggling to roll onto his stomach, his lackey’s watching amused on the side lines.
I waste no time running over and kicking him in his ribs. He hollers, flaying his arms about and scissor kicking his legs in the air. I’m about to slap him across the face when a little peep echo’s through the forest, somewhere in the middle of Gerald’s group.
I turn toward it, my eyes as wild as a wildebeest and hair ruffled up like I just got electrocuted. A small boy with square glasses and bucked teeth stares at us, unamused.
“Why not summon both and see what happens, like calling domino’s and papa johns.” He says, his voice a little too nasally for my taste.
“That’s…” My right-hand man begins, tapping a finger to his mouth. “That’s actually not a bad idea!”
I glance back and forth at the members of both groups as they all nod in agreement and begin commingling around the alter. Gerald’s still rolling around in the dirt, trying to get to his feet, but I walk away and push through the cults of idiots to get to the alter.
“This is a terrible idea!” I shout over them, crossing my arms. “You can’t summon the Demon and the Devil on the same night. Do you have any idea what will happen?”
“No,” One of Gerald’s cultists admits. “Do you?”
I scoff and roll my eyes, “Well of course not! It’s never been done and there’s a *reason* it’s never been done.”
“Just relax, Cyder.” One of my own members speaks up, already preparing the summoning of the Devil. “It’ll be totally cool!”
This is not going to be *totally cool*. I truthfully have no idea what could happen, but I recall reading something in the “Summoning for Dummies” book about never bringing forth two ultimate powers of evil on the same night. Something about how it causes a portal to another dimension to open up and darkness to seep into the lands and destroy everything in sight.
That all seems a little farfetched to me, though. I’m sure whatever happens won’t be *that* bad.
While I’m pondering over my thoughts, the cultists work fast and within a matter of minutes they’ve finished preparations for both the summoning of the Demon and the Devil. A member of both my group and Gerald’s group hold out their palms, with a knife in their hand.
Gerald finally manages to get to his feet and pushes through his friends to get to the front, dusting off his black robes. He’s eying the alter greedily, as if he also thinks this is a fantastic idea.
The two guys with their palms out nod to each other, and then create a two-inch incision with the knife across their skin. Both of them wince and then press their hands into the stone. But as soon as the blood finalizes the summoning of both the Demon and the Devil, the altar explodes.
We all get flown through the air, along with broken bits of stone and dirt. I land in the grass several yards away and roll several more feet, as I shield my face from the debris. As soon as the last of the destroyed alter lands around me, I quickly peek up from my arms and see the people of my group sprawled out throughout the forest, groans and whimpers coming from all directions.
Gerald is rolling around on his back in the dirt again, smoke is sizzling up from where the alter used to be, and directly behind it-
-Is a swirling portal. I watch in horror with a mixture of shock that our summoning *actually* worked, as the Devil steps out, holding a red forked trident, followed immediately by a grinning Demon.
**Hai! Thanks for reading! If you'd like to read more of my stuff, it can all be found at r/AliesStories! :3** | 2019-11-25T19:37:20 | 2019-11-25T18:38:31 | 212 | 18 |
[WP] In your world, magic is wielded by astrologists who form pacts with distant stars. Every star grants a unique power. Upon forming a pact with a star, you gain a glimpse of its worlds and your soul will be pulled to one when your pact ends. You are the first to form a pact with a black hole. | Admittedly, I did not expect this would work. I was lucky to even see the black hole, even luckier to speak with it.
It was easier than I had heard to make the pact, though what is a black hole other than a star that has already died? Im sure nobody ever speaks with them. Im sure that helped my case, that I cared to notice it, to speak with it.
One would be surprised at how calm they are. Perhaps they understand that they hold the power to destroy all? Perhaps thats just how that star was in life? Why that is will be a question for another time.
I pulled away from my telescope, and looked around. The test dummy, how everyone learns their powers, slightly damaged intentionally.
I reached for my powers, and the void called back. Black tendrils eminated from my fingers and wrapped around the dummy. I banged it around first, getting a grasp of how much control I have over them.
When my supervisor came in, he looked shocked.
"What star did you..."
"A black hole" I said, my excitement was evidently out of place, as he looked like he was going to pass out.
"H-how did you do that?"
"Well a black hole is just a dead star, isn't it?" I decided to pull the dummy towards me, nothing special, so I moved it back again.
"Well yes, but you see, the dead shouldn't be able to speak you see."
"Well someones gotta be the first to try everything, and for me it was speaking to a black hole."
I let my tendrils wrap around the dummy, then it was gone. I could feel my power grow within me in responce.
"We should study the extent of your power, this could lead to a new age of astrology!"
"Ah, lets study later, Im hungry" | Chaos, that was what it was. Bloodshed and devastation. But it hadn't always been that way; the first few times that people had been blessed by the stars, we had celebrated. The powers that the Heavens had distilled upon us were unconditional, not bound by the same rules and limits as those of the Mages.
We developed all sorts of abilities—flight, weather manipulation, petrification by eye contact—you name it. By tethering your soul to a star, you claimed its power, and to ensure that no two people shared the same power, no two people could share the same star. It was a glorious thing. People all over the world started Tethering, and developing magic of their own.
Of course, so did I. I was young and naive, hopeful and excitable. The moment I turned 22, I went out in my backyard and threw my head to the sky. Countless stars dotted the night sky, and thousands were already Tethered. We didn't know how we knew, we just *did*. It was my first and only chance to Tether, and I wanted it to be special, so I wanted the star to be special.
I must have spent hours raking the sky for what I thought was a worthy star, and finally, I found it. That was when it all went wrong. I did as they told us to do: pray to the star, form a connection. And it worked. I felt it happen. I *saw* it happen.
The tells weren't usually very distinctive, but this tell, definitely was. The star began to grow brighter, and larger in the sky. I could see people in my neighbourhood coming out to gawk at it. Then other stars began to disappear—I still don't know what happened to the people whose souls were tethered to them, and truth be told, I don't want to.
The star continued to grow, which made even more stars disappear, and then finally, it went black. It was no longer a bright mass of burning gas, it was an enormous rip in the fabric of space—a black hole.
People had noticed me doing my Tethering that night, and began to question whether I'd done something to the star. Impossible of course, but when you're scared you'll think anything. Soon after the police were involved, and then the Mages came. Their magic told them that the star was corrupted, and that it was possible for others to be corrupted as well. They didn't know how that would affect the Starborn—those who had Tethered—but they didn't want to find out. They demanded that all Starborn be handed over, and that people stopped Tethering. Naturally, we refused. The Mages were jealous, we had said, bitter. And so the war began.
For seven years we've warred, and it was all my fault....
"Luke? Luke!" a voice hissed in my ear, tearing me from my thoughts.
"What?" I said, confused. Then I saw the face staring down at me. "Oh, Kenny." Kenny was an old man, with several feet of bushy grey hair and a matching beard. His eyes were blue, and held a hint of insanity—well, slightly more that a hint. He was stocky for his age, and smiled quite often, despite losing so much in the war. "What is it, Ken?"
"Ariya an' Tarif are back. They got something," he said, grinning slyly.
I pushed myself off of the ground, not bothering to brush off—what was the point? My clothes were aged and torn, and looked as though they had been washed in dirt. I followed Kenny through the long, narrow corridor that lead to our base of operations, which was really just an old, demolished high school.
He lead me into what was left of the Chemistry lab, where I found the entire group—minus those who were keeping watch—standing in a circle.
"Go on," Kenny urged me. They made a slight part in the circle to admit me, and I saw another old man, bound in chains. He was sturdy like Kenny, and he wore a brown cloak, with a drawing of the planet on his chest.
"An Earth Mage," I said contemptuously. | 2020-02-21T05:05:27 | 2020-02-21T04:09:32 | 30 | 16 |
[WP] "Tell me Sir, " - said the Queen - "when my knights, soldiers, mercenaries and even wizards failed to defend my Kingdom from the assaults of the Shadow Empire, who do you think you are, thinking you can do better?" "trust me ma'am. Im an Engineer". | "What on earth is an engineer?" The queen exclaims, her voice reverberating through the crowded underground workshop.
"Well, let me show you." Striding over to his desk, he grabs a dented breastplate off his desk.
"First, you probably want to stop trying to defeat expensive plate armor-" he stoops, grabbing a rapier off the floor "- with rapiers. since they're practically useless against armoured opponents, much less full plate armour."
"So what do you suppose? That we give up our very nation's pride? Next you'll tell me that our pride is not worth our lives, oh? Well, I'm of the mind to execute y-" The engineer slams the rapier into the breastplate, snapping it.
"Hey look buddy, I'm an engineer. That means I solve problems, not problems like "Is our pride worth our life?" Because that would fall within the purview of your conundrums of philosophy."
Pausing, he reaches into his safe, withdrawing a pistol.
"I solve practical problems, for instance: how am I going to stop some mean mother Hubbard from tearing this ridiculous fortress a new structurally unstable be-hind? The answer?"
*Bang!* A small dent appears in the armour.
"Use a gun, and if that don't work..."
Reaching over to another desk, he pulls out a shotgun.
"Use more gun."
***Bang!*** The blast from the shotgun rings in the Queen's ears, and she shuts her eyes in pain. As she opens them, she sees the breastplate in shreds, and a block of jelly behind it filled with metal beads.
"Well... That would work for a foot soldier, I'll concede that, but what about the... titans? Those walking walls are practically unstoppable. If you can't answer that, you'll be executed." She refutes, her voice still shaking from surprise. The engineer says nothing, just walks into another larger room, with the Queen tailing behind. The room is large and round, with strange crater filled walls and ceilings, and completely empty bar a sentry several times the engineer's size. Pointing at the wall, the Engineer continues.
"Imagine that's a titan. Now those mean mothers of scrap metal don't need precision, their practical walls. So if I don't need precision, I can just focus on power, murica style."
Suddenly, the turret beeps and points at the opposite wall. The barrels whirr as they rev up, and then, a beam of bullets so clustered together it might as well have been a laser fills the air, with rockets flying out into the wall as they speak. Within moments, the room's far wall has moved several meters. The engineer continues his explanation.
"Take for instance this heavy caliber tripod mounted lil' old number designed by me, built by me, and you best hope... not pointed at you." The engineer grins.
"So, about that whole executing me business. Are you gonna try? Or you gonna pay me a king's ransom so I can keep your lil' castle in shape?"
"I-I'll pay. Can you make those weapons for my soldiers?" The queen stammers. The engineer turns, his goggles hiding his fearsome stare as his neck extends towards the Queen.
"***Nope***"
"What!?" The Queen despairs. Her kingdom... ruined by one man's refusal.
"I only work some tough mother hubbards when it comes to these big jobs. You willing to foot the bill for a real crew?"
"Y-yes."
"Alrighty then!" The Engineer goes on to call the red team to help annihilate the Shadow kingdom from existence. With his newfound wealth, he goes on to become the reigning monarch of the YEEEEEE empire, known worldwide for alcoholism, firearms, and a general disregard for safety laws, often in combination.
**The End** | Among other stuff, I had two robot dogs in my trunk that I bought for Darrell and Monica, but since I got stuck here by mistake while returning from Home Depot, it won ' t matter if I buy them new ones when I get back. The zombies were approaching slowly but surely as they were drawn by the sound of the bustling fortress preparing for battle. I ripped the package open, plugged the batteries and turned them on. In an instant they started barking and lighting up from the colorful leds in their eyes. The soldiers nearby opened their eyes in startled expressions as they saw me allegedly summoning two metal demons with ghastly eyes and roaring voices from mere boxes.
The zombies were the first to come, as the cannon fodder, to pile up the miasma in the battlefield and crawl even after being cut into pieces, grabbing nearby foot soldiers. I exited the gate and positioned the toys in different directions to lure them away while the more difficult opponents are dealt with. As I looked on the horizon the dogs were still tippy tapping proudly with herds of zombies following their sounds.
From the shadows of the forest I saw large figures approaching. The trolls were running and shouting, AND, BOY, WERE THEY SCARY. Huge, hairy, barbaric - they looked invincible, especially in front of a tiny engineer. But luckily they weren’t going to make it anywhere near the castle, because of the little surprises awaiting them between the numerous weeds of the field. As I heard them screaming in such a high voice and jumping confused all around, I smiled satisfied. The big guys stepped on one of the cruelest weapons known to humanity: LEGO pieces scattered on the ground under a bare foot. The beasts were falling one by one, and it was hilarious(feels kinda cruel now, but I did what had to be done to defend the kingdom and my honour).
The skeletons were faster and more nimbler on their feet than the trolls, their raging souls inside those hollow sockets startling my very core. They stepped on the legos unfazed as their bones were devoid of nerves. But I’ve seen my fair share of Joes to know they'll mess up on the job and trip, so I gave them a hand… I ordered the drawbridge to be left lowered and sprinkled marbles and banana peels on the wooden floor. They were stumbling down each other and dismembered bones started flying all over the pit as they were running on rolling bones and slippery peels.
Distracted by the show in front of me, I almost didn’t see them until the last moment: the ghosts were surrounding the walls with their translucent bodies(if you can call them bodies?) and for those who were wondering, yes, they did make spooky sounds. Imagine the horror of the crumbling illusion of winning, the suffocation and desperation of being ambushed and almost unprepared, imagine losing everything for a bet and never looking your family in the eyes again. I almost felt that. But, jokes on those creatures who’ve never seen Ghostbusters and thought that they could just pass over me. I pulled my safety goggles down, raised my weapon and pushed the ON button, unleashing hell upon the gruesome spirits. I’ve never been more thankful for my wife, who assigned me for cleaning duty, so I immediately went to buy a vacuum, which was now getting filled with tons of phantoms, ruining my new tool(good luck explaining my wife how I lost that vacuum).
The Liches, from what I was told, were resistant to fire and sucked the life out of you better than the vacuum while trying to watch TV. Their spell made them reattach themselves after losing a hand or a leg so the marbles were out too. To be honest I was winging it on this one, but I had no other ideas so I made it work with what I had on the worksite, Fast Setting Rockite cement. Made the boys mix tubs full of it and loaded it in the trebuchets.
Big splashes all over the field covered the suckers in cement and pinned them down like flailing helpless toddlers stuck on their back. Their joints filled with cement quickly turned them in raging statues. I could almost hear them wail from shame. Can ' t condemn them, they already were.
I almost had a moment to catch my breath after the ghost incident. I sucked them all into my new Hoover H-Lift 700(I cannot review its quality of cleaning a carpet, but I sure can guarantee it deserves 5 stars for trapping spirits quick and easy), and my blood froze in my veins when I saw the HUGE spiders from the base of the castle that were just about to climb their way up. I DID NOT SIGN UP FOR THIS, NO ONE TOLD ME THEY HAD AN ARMY OF ARAGOGS(yes, I watched Harry Potter with my kids 2 times already). My heart skipped a few beats, I felt chills down my spine and I started sweating in panic thinking I should have bought that insect repellent on 20% discount. I was caught unprepared this time, and I am still suspecting those arrogant court sorcerers for intentionally omitting details, (especially since we betted that if I defeated the Shadow Empire, they had to do the cleaning).
As the creatures moved their hairy disgusting legs up the wall I closed my eyelids and let a few tears slip from the corner of my eye. I started embracing the idea of Death, of my bloody corpse lying on the stone wall in defeat, and tried to remember the eyes of my partner one last time, the giggle of my kids, or the wiggle of our dog’s tail, but my life refused to flash before my eyes. So I opened them and looked down to face my assassins like a man. I was once again amazed by my genius.
In order to strengthen the wall, I put what I thought was duct tape all over it(because you can never go wrong with duct tape). But, it turned out to be double-sided tape and now the monsters were stuck there like flies in a web(HOW DOES THAT FEEL NOW, HUH?).
Phew, that was a close one.
As the sun was rising soldiers poked at unfinished monsters and washed the ooze off the walls. I strolled past the “Great Sage” brooming the floor, finally putting to good use that stick he's been riding since I've got here.
-by haloandrei & spark | 2020-03-30T14:43:24 | 2020-03-30T14:12:25 | 81 | 19 |
[WP] Heaven, like Hell, has a "special place" reserved. In heaven, it is for the 'dutiful': those who knowingly doomed themselves to save many others. Captains who go down with the ship, soldiers who jump on grenades, firemen who charge into the inferno, regardless of what they believed in life. | Sterile rooms, the stench of antiseptic and plastic fresh from the wrapper, meals taken alone because PPE was in short supply and I had refused a set for myself, ensuring that other, younger nurses had theirs.
I'd made my peace, I'd lived enough of life, I'd said my goodbyes to those who I loved.
I worked for as long as I could, and possibly even longer as I hid the growing agony from my colleagues. I stayed with the patients longer since I, as an already infected person, was probably the last skin to skin contact they would likely receive until the coroner or undertakers came.
All my patients were elderly, and not many were healthy enough to survive the early infection. The most I could do at this point was ease their pain and suffering, and wait alongside them.
It wasn't long before our population was halved, and then some. Soon, I was in the bed alongside my longtime patients. They tried to put a ventilator on me as I felt my lungs wheeze and nearly give out, but like the PPE, I refused.
I signed the Do Not Resuscitate form before they could give me the pain medication, and the last hand I felt as I drifted away was my adult daughters', dressed head to toe in cyan and yellow cover gear to be with me. My grandchildren couldn't come, my brother couldn't come, my son couldn't come, they could only spare the one set and my daughter had been chosen to be with me as I leapt off this mortal coil.
With all my strength, I squeezed her latex gloved hand, and felt the warmth of her palm, imagined the texture of the hand I'd held all her life, and was grateful for the opportunity I'd had to love her and all the rest of my family as I did.
Regret tinged the back of my throat like bile. I wish I could've lived longer, I wish I could've seen my grandbabies graduate, I wish I could've seen my son married.
But there is no regret for what I did. Nurses fresh out of school still had a lot of life left to live, nurses with families they needed to see again, nurses with dependents they had to take care of, nurses who simply hadn't yet seen what greatness life had to offer.
I already had my happiness, my children grown and my family satisfied. I was okay with ending it here.
And as I slowly drifted, the hacking coughs and wheezing lessened, I repeated that softly to my daughter. *"I'm okay. I'm okay..."*
Wailing sobs and the long, sustained beeping of a heart monitor were the last things I heard as I passed.
There was no white light, no blinding, confusing flash, just a deep, comforting warmth. A scent like soil after a light rain, the gentle chirping of springtime birds, and the sound of waves lapping at sand. Infront of me is a verdant, green garden, brimming with brilliant flowers in an array of colours, and edged with twisted, long limbed trees, one of which looks almost perfect for a tree house. Just low enough to be safe, just high enough to be fun for kids.
"It's a very nice spot," someone said beside me. I look to the side, and see a post woman. She's dressed in blue, with a satchel filled with mail. I can't quite see her face, nor quite comprehend the structure of her build. She's human, but only just. "The summer of '97, right?"
"My father just finished fixing up the cottage for us." I recall, sitting back on the porch. "I...I wanted to retire here, before Andy passed. After that, we just..." I trail off, breathing in deeply.
"I see," the woman said softly. "Well. I hope you have a lovely day, miss. Your package." She said, reaching into her bag, handing me a box.
I take it, signing for it without truly thinking about where I was or what I was doing.
Standing, I watch the post woman leave. Down the stone pathway, past the low fence and into her delivery truck. She drives down the road, dust trailing behind her.
Looking at the package in my hand, I pry it open. The mailing box is plain, but inside is a foam cooler taped shut, with writing in marker on the outside. 'Live bait' it reads.
The creaky screen door opens. "Ah? Honey, was that the mail?" Andy asks. "Did we get any packag- oh! We did!"
The man is quick to come to my side. As warm and as real as could be, gently taking the foam box from my hands, starting to peel away the packing tape. "We're gonna be eating like kings tomorrow with bait like this!" He declares excitedly.
"Andy Dufrane Kirkland!" I say as he takes it. "Dont you *dare* think of opening that anywhere but the..." I pause.
The cheeky grin on Andy's face falls a bit when I slow down. He sets the half open bait box onto a side table next to the porch swing, reaching for me and wrapping his arms around me. "Honey...? Is everything okay?"
"An...dy..." I say softly, touching the frame of his face. "Andy..." I fall into his arms, holding him tightly as I sob.
"Oh, sweetie. I was just joking about opening it here, really." He says as he hugs me tight.
"N-no, I just...I think I had a bad dream. I'm so relieved that you're here." I sob, clutching to him.
"Really?" He asks. "What about?"
A weak laugh bubbles up in between sobs. "Donald Trump was president, and a plague broke out, and...and...you'd died a decade earlier..."
"The Apprentice guy? That is definitely horrifying." Andy chuckles lightly. He pulls away, and kisses me in the space right between my eyes. "It's over now, love. Let's get out on the boat and fish up some dinner. I got all our gear set up already. We have a while to wait before the kids come to visit us, we should make use of the time."
Wiping away a tear, I nod. Andy takes me away, and it's a blissful afternoon spent together. Then another, then another and another, stretching on into eons... | Light.
​
Darkness again, but light soon after.
​
She had lived through it all. Happiness, sadness. Growing up, growing old. Death of her parents, birth of her children. In her eyes, it had all been a magical cycle, one step leading to another, as smooth as pushing a pedal round and round. But in her line of work, she had always been close to the start of the cycle.
​
As her eyes adjusted to the light, she quickly realised she was prone. Brushing her hair aside, she propped herself up and swung her legs off the luxurious bed she was on. As she sat there, staring down a long glass walled corridor, she closed her eyes again, attempting to recollect her thoughts.
​
They all looked so serene. Not a care in the world could touch them. None of them were longer than her forearm, barely a wisp of hair on their head. Most of them were asleep now, and she went around making sure all of them were fine before she left. She didn't have to do it, but it was the one time where she could be alone in this room of life, truly appreciating the start of the cycle she always thought about. As she was halfway through the room, she heard quiet footsteps outside. Not the soft footfalls of a doctor rushing along on his or her exit rounds, but someone purposely masking their footsteps. She didn't think much of it at first, until it came to a stop outside her door.
​
She got off the bed, and realised there were rows of beds, all empty, all perfectly made. It reminded her of the hospital, but the hospital's always full, with more beds in the corridor with more people. The thought gently tugged at the corner of her lips as she walked down the corridor. Surprisingly, she didn't feel lost or confused, as one would feel in an unfamiliar place. She felt comfortable, as though she knew she belonged here. Through the walls, she could see light, but there was no obvious source. It filled the surroundings like air, and she could feel the glow within as well. After walking a distance, she could see people outside. Gardening, playing a game of basketball, and even a small group at computers, thought the computers seemed to be wireless, drawing power out of nothing. All of them were enjoying themselves, and it put a spring in her step. She knew not where she was, or what her purpose here was, and yet she was happy, for she realised that it was her well-deserved rest. And then, a deep, baritone voice resonated down the corridor.
"Good morning, my child."
​
4 men in white coats and a stethoscope around their neck barged in. She could instantly tell they were not doctors, and she took an instant disliking for them. They looked at her as she stared at them coldly, standing her ground. One of them muttered in an unintelligible language, before addressing here. "You need to leave. Now. You're wanted outside." She sensed a thick foreign accent, but couldn't quite place it. "I don't think so," she replied, feeling the need to stay, to protect the little seeds around her. Her motherly instincts knew that these men meant trouble, and she resolved to stop them. Or... she didn't want to think about it. The man who talked to her pointed fingers down each row, and the men dispersed to walk down each row, before the man walked down the row she was standing in. To her left, she could see a glint of metal under the labcoat of one of the men. The men walked down the row, reading the tags on the legs of the babies, as well as the clipboards beside the cots. They were looking for a baby, and she hoped, for its sake, that it was far, far away.
​
"Where am I?"
She was now at a bench with a man in a polo-tee and shorts. He commanded a surprisingly loud voice, firm and gentle at the same time. He picked the right words, and spoke slowly. Those were the best doctors, the ones who made their patients feel cured by just speaking. "You are beyond life. You are at the beginning of the end, a beginning that would last forever." If there was one thing that frustrated her, however, it was this cryptic language he had been using since the very moment he met her. But like all things in this place, she never felt the need to get angry. She knew deep within that she had aeons to understand him. And despite all the questions she wanted to ask, she asked a perhaps weird question that was at the front of her mind. "Where is the light coming from?" The man smiled. "It is from within everyone of you. As each one of you join us, this place becomes brighter, our mood becomes lighter, and we are thankful for it." That cryptic language again. "So where am I? What is this place?" The man smiled, stood up. He walked over to a tree nearby and plucked 2 apples before returning to the bench. They were brightest shade of red she had ever seen, beckoning her to sink her teeth in. Just as she liked it. It was an explosion of sweetness within her mouth, that enveloped it whole before she swallowed. It was definitely better than the crap she bought from the supermarket near her house, almost... heavenly? She turned back to the man, smiling as he crunched on his apple, as though he had read her mind.
​
"Now look, bitch. We're looking for something. I'm giving you one last chance to leave. A single word from your mouth, and you won't have a home to return to." Cliched threats, but they held a whole different meaning when they were real. She had already dialled the emergency number into her phone in her pocket, and she hoped they would arrive soon. But until then, she had to stay. "I am sorry, but I think you have to leave the newborn ward of the New Hope Hospital." His eyes darkened as she realised what she had done. Pushing her down with his brute force, he roughly searched her pockets until he found the phone, still in a call. Cursing, he smashed the phone against her head before getting up and barking at his men. She almost blacked out as the pain at her shoulder where she landed and her temple consumed her, but she kept herself together and raised her body up, shakily. The man swore again, and leaned down to punch her on her nose. The other men were now panicking as they rushed down the rows, but they hadn't reached the end yet. With the last of her strength, she wailed out loud, and the man towering over her leaned down again, this time crashing her into a pillar. She lay there unmoving, her eyes barely opened. Before she gave in to the deep sleep, she heard the security guards burst in, and all she could think of was how the loud atmosphere would wake the babies up.
​
She was almost done with the apple now. So was the man. "I called this place Duty. Like many others, you have died in your calling, doing what you loved most. Is that not the greatest death one could face?" Unexpectedly, uncontrollably, tears welled up in her eyes, something she thought was not possible there till it happened. "But I did nothing! Can you tell me if they reached the baby? Who were those brutes? Who were they looking for?" The man sat beside her, still smiling, and placed a hand on her shoulder. In the distance, the basketball game had just ended. They were seated, wiping the sweat off their head as they joked and laughed. "To tell you the truth, I know not as well. But one thing is for sure. You did something many people wouldn't dare to do. You stood your ground. And for that, you deserve to be here." She looked up at him, his strong handsome face and his everlasting smile. "Who are you?" He stood up, and prepared to leave. "Think of me as an old caretaker, running this place from the beginning of time. I do reserve a place for the ones like you closest to my heart, but all are welcome to my abode." He looked back at her, looking undecided about something. "I do not know who those men were, but I if it helps you, those men are now in the lines leading to my front door." With that, he turned around and walked, before disappearing into the light.
​
Hey r/WritingPrompts! This is my first attempt at writing anything at all, and I do hope I've done well :D Do give any feedback, and I hope to keep writing for more prompts here! | 2020-04-01T00:05:54 | 2020-03-31T23:49:25 | 72 | 53 |
[WP] You’re in the mafia and the boss has ordered you to kill your girlfriend to show your loyalty. You look around the room and see the pictures only to find out you’re dating the mafia boss’s daughter. | I found the gun on my apartment bedroom alongside a handwritten note: *Demonstrate your loyalty. Sting the girl*. *Meeting at 65-6.* The paper was yellow and frayed along the edges, but I immediately recognized the penmanship.
"So it's gonna be this way," I snarled. I cursed the boss, his ostentation, and that wretched golden pen he enjoyed using so much.
The next day I entered the old warehouse at exactly 8:34 PM. The other soldiers entered the building in 7 minute intervals. Soon the boss ambled in, trailed by his *guardie*.
"Scorpio," he addressed me. "You got the note?"
"Yes, boss," I replied professionally.
"Here are the *fotos*," he announced. The pictures were small, varying in quality and angle.
"Family above all," I answered. He smiled and trotted off.
I was unable to sleep that night. The picture he had shown me—it was Lucia, my girlfriend. She'd always said she came from a wealthy Italian household, though I'd never imagine the *Mafia.* My quandary tormented me as I tried to sleep, to close my eyes and rest.
The next day I showed up at her door with a bouquet of flowers in my hand. "Hey," I told her. "I'm taking you on a romantic date." I led her to the abandoned warehouse with the flowers in my hand.
Lucia smiled as we walked. "Hey," she whispered, "did you know that my twin sister and I came here when we were little?"
I halted. "A twin sister? What happened to her? How come you never told me about her?"
"Well," she answered bitterly. "She fell in love with a man from a rival gang. Father hates her guts. He wants to kill her."
I was greatly relieved. I dropped the gun hidden in my coat and kissed her.
"Wait," Lucia exclaimed. Then she drew a gun from her dress pocket.
"Do you want to know what happened to the real Lucia?" | I sat on the rugged couch, illuminated by the hungry line of cold light from the television. I rustled in my loose pockets for a few seconds while looking up at the broken asbestos ceiling. My fingers touched a firm paper texture, and I yanked out a card. I looked at the card *he* gave me. Its decorative edges lying on the bleak paper. “To show your loyalty, kill the one whom you love most – and deliver me their heart.” it read, attached to it stood out the dried ink with the signature “Al Capone” – I put my hand on my wrinkled red forehead, staring into the black nothingness, the hurrying flash of color I wasn’t even sure was there, as if I was in the depths of the coal mine, burning, my body weighing a thousand tons.
A loud knock came from the hallway, I thrust the card pack into my pockets and got up to look through the eyehole. “Who is it?” I shouted from the end of the couch, approaching the door. The keys in my left pocket jingling. “It’s Brook!” said a muffled tender voice. My shoulders dropped and I chuckled to myself a little, just so it could be heard through the door. I got to the end of it and looked through the eye hole, no one else was there. I pulled out a key from my left pocket and put it in the door, the clinks and clunks emphasizing the opening. I opened the door and a swift breeze brushed in. Her attire was died down, but her curves, her seamless skin, and her curled up hair proved her beautiful enough for any man.
“You said we had to go somewhere baby, where are you planning to go?”
“Ah, it’s nothing, we’re just going to visit a museum that opened” I scoffed. “Let’s go to the car. We gotta hurry.” I grabbed her hand. We went out, my neck protruding from my tank top felt the cool breeze of New York City. The countless almond and peach lights hitting every corner of the scene – embalmed with the horns and reeving of cars.
We scuttered towards my car, slammed the door, and turned the key. The lights lit up in front of us, a man in a suit and a fedora appeared, just coldly standing there. The engine stuttered until I could put my feet on the pedal. I turned out of the parking lot, bumping through the concrete slabs.
“Who the hell was that James?” Brook asked. Her hands were gripping at the door handle, trying to pull herself closer to the edge.
“Just a business associate” I replied, my hands sweating and burning from the rubber on the wheel. We turned onto the Brooklyn Bridge, now followed by 2 police cars. “Fuck.” I muttered. The cops started shooting at our tires and the windows. Brook pressed to the seat when one of the bulled grazed her ears.Evading all traffic we arrived at a mansion, just on the outskirts of New York, I stopped the car, burst out the door and rushed to Brook, got her out of the car, and went to the door. I opened the large door. He was sitting at the end of the hall. He got up with open arms.
“Dad!” Brook went to Capone, “You didn’t tell me it was going to be such a ride!” She said while hugging.
“Oh, Brook. You didn’t get hurt did you?” he asked brushing her hair.
“Not at all.”
He stopped hugging Brook and started towards me.
“You didn’t deliver me the heart young boy” he pointed at me, his voice was crooked and low. I switched my stare between him and Brook, not being able to process what just happened. *What the hell*. *Was she set up from the beginning?*
“Oh don’t be so shocked, did you really think I was going to let you kill a stranger?” He said squinting his eyes.
I cleared my throat. “No” I paused – “did I fail?”
“Well, you did deliver me this sweet-heart so I’ll let you go this time,” he said looking back at her.
I was relieved beyond belief, I gathered my strength for one more question “Why?”
“Why?” he repeated the question, his face became rigid and serious. He stood over me, looking down. Then he broke the silence with “Come on! It was fun!”, He even chuckled to himself. “And you also proved you can save someone from the cops, so get ready for doing a favor for one of our associates” he laughed to himself and patted me on the back.
Hope it's good! | 2020-07-02T06:58:20 | 2020-07-02T06:47:27 | 730 | 40 |
[WP] Outside of your hometown you are known as an untouchable monster, someone who will never let any superheroes or villains come near his territory. The whole world fears you, but the smiles and support of the townsfolk as they thank you for keeping peace makes it all worth it. | I hate this moment. I hate it so much, the feel of their fear seeps through my skin like rancid oil. I try hard not to gag as one of their team throws up as I press my foot down on the skull of their leader.
I feel it start to give, that moment of sudden movement that ends another pathetic life.
I don't mind the gray matter that splatters over my boots. The blood is a little much for me, but they always make me do this.
"I warned you, time and again. You come here, you die painfully and for all to see. Yet here you are, six of you this time as if that would make a difference. Gods I hate you all."
I spit on the now dead hero with his god awful patriotic, jingoistic costume.
"You think that they need to be saved? No, you're the ones who need to be saved. I would do it if I didn't hate you all so much."
One of the team begins to cry and blubbers his pathetic pleas for mercy. As if I had any of that left.
"Quiet or I will kill you slowly."
He immediately stops.
"Good. Now this is a message to all of you out there in the great land of the brave. Stop coming here. Stop trying to steal our resources, stop trying to 'rescue' our women and children. We don't need you, we don't want you and I will kill you and make you wish that your mother had never smiled at your father."
I kick the next one in the face and his nose caves in killing him instantly.
"I get it, you're great. You're powerful, you think that with that power you get certain rights. You don't, not here, not with MY people."
I pick up one of them and with a single clasp of my fist I crush his windpipe and he starts gasping for breath. I make sure the camera is on him.
"The next person who comes here without my leave will die slowly, over the course of months. I will live stream it 24/7. So if you are dumb enough, conceited enough, and greedy enough please come enjoy my realm of pain."
​
I turn the camera off and hear three quick gunshots as the other members of the team are killed.
​
I half run out of the room and collapse before I can reach a place to rest.
I feel a hand on my head and turn up to see Sanshia smiling down at me.
"Thank you," she says "they never stop do they? Why do they hate us so much?"
"I don't know, but we might as well use that hate to keep them away."
I begin to sob and she pulls me into a warm embrace.
"Good girl" she says
Everything is good once again, but I will never stop wishing that this would be the last time. | I continued to run forwards. The ones which chased after me were an einherji and several thousand Valkyries.
An axe flew by my head and stuck itself in a tree. Arrows flew towards me but they were all for naught.
I had reached my flag. My hometown.
[SPECIAL SKILL ACTIVATED: FLAG OF UNENDING NIGHT]
[STRENGTH UP]
[SPEED UP]
[INVINCIBILITY]
I rushed towards the einherji and punched him in the chest. His blade fell to the floor as he crashed through a tree. The valkyrie descended upon me in a formation that most people wouldn't be able to avoid.
I'm not most people.
I jumped over the first and grabbed onto the wings of the next.
Her Axe slipped downwards onto the back of the next.
Some started casting rune spells but they were knocked out faster than they could cast.
Some released volleys of arrows from wihin the bushes. Those clunked harmlessly off my skin-turned-scales.
Suffice it to say, it was a massacre.
"None of them were strong enough to handle the villains that could attack here. Yet they clung onto it so hard."
I walked towards where I had previously stationed my flag and pulled it out of the ground. It's flag magically folded into a bandgage flowing behind the edge of my spear Tenebrae Subit or as I liked to call her Tensepu.
I ran towards the base of opperation and smiled as I saw Luminis and little Drien.
"How did it go you two?" I called out
"Awesome! I beat up the badguys." Drien smiled
"The gods still refuse to allow this it seems. The children of Noctis are also getting more intense." Luminis reported "I doubt Dies and I will have enough strength to fight them off for a while."
"And Testudo?" I smiled as I looked towards the roof.
"You always catch me Cap. How do you do it?" the one we had come to know as the green-eyed sniper complained
"Report..."
"According to Graeca, the waters aren't safe either. She asked me to bring her here so I came of scout duty."
"Put her in her pool and tell her not to complain until I handle those sea gods okay."
"Can I come watch you beat up him." Drien jumped about excitedly.
"No D, I need you and Luminis here to keep the town safe." I ruined his mood
"Fine."
I laughed quite unusually and got the stares of my trainees in return. There were only two of them who weren't here yet but that was for good reason. Etlux and Verax were busy training under my eternal rival.
I place my flag in the centre of the room and walked outside. The town was running low on food and the crops weren't going to be ready anytime soon.
Demeter was going to get her goddes butt over here if she wanted me to keep my promise. After all, the underworld's rulers all wanted my soul. The soul of an immortal mortal and one of the two direct children of Noctis and an Illa.
I remebered the first time I stumbled upon this town. Ravaged by battles between god-folk and fin-folk. I had interrupted a fight between Demeter and Aridorum. Both non-fighters forced to fight under their lovers' will.
When I saw the destruction caused by such irresponsible beings, well to put it simply I went on autodrive
Demeter always complains about how brutally I had stabbed at her and Aridorum. Aridorum always complains about how elegantly I had defended the town. They both fear me but as a younger sibling, it is not their place to fear me.
"What are you thinking about Cap?" Tetsudo spoke.
I realised I had not yet left the town and blushed "Guess I just forgot to move my feet."
"Since you are here, could you tell us when the twins are coming back?" Luminis asked
I put my hands on the back of my head and smiled as I walked away. "When Bed-head thinks the're ready."
When I arrived at the forest, I called out the name of my favourite older half-sister and warned her. She popped out immediately and question my choices.
"I just need you and Aridorum to make sure that no one touches my town." I pat her on the shoulder and leaped towards the clouds.
When I arrived at the temple, Tlaloc immediately shot me down. "You know you're not allowed here cursed one. So unless you are looking to die by my hands, don't come here."
"Chill bro. I just need to know where Rugluf is."
"You want to challenge the chief of lightning's fin form?"
"Yes, my brother-"
"Yes the blessed one. Sure I'll do it."
I grunted at the interruption but I knew it was fruitless. If Tlaloc so desired, he could easily kill off my town and he knew that that was more precious to me than my life.
"Ahh! Here it is! According to the lack of life, I'd say he is having another squabble with Thor."
"Thanks for the info. Big bro!"
"I- you know what forget it."
Suffice it to say, I slapped Thor.
Rug boy fled when he saw me. Probably because he knows I know what he did. | 2020-10-01T06:50:10 | 2020-10-01T05:42:02 | 25 | 13 |
[WP] You are part of the league, the superheroes who save the world, yet you never go on missions. You are only called for one thing only. Total annihilation, for when they don't want survivors. | "Are you sure? I mean, if we could-"
'Slam!'
"Jack-Knife is dead! If those things could take them out, no-one but her would stand a chance!"
Aurora flinches in reaction to Grandfist's outburst. I feel the tremor from his fist denting the stainless steel wall of the corridor leading to my room. It travels through my body, making me undulate from the force of it.
Things must be pretty bad if they're considering calling on me...
The most common way of getting a power is to be born with it. I'm among the outliers. Someone who gained theirs through a life or death situation, a desperate measure the body takes ti ensure survival. Although, my survival left the rest of the passengers of that flight dead.
There were even some minor supers on the flight, and my body; desperately consuming biomass to withstand the raging fire, added their powers to my own.
"Shoggoth, we need you. Please get ready for deployment."
Grandfist speaks through the intercom. I'm their last resort, an undying mass of all-consuming flesh.
Using the stolen power of Compression, I turn my body into a dense sphere, safe for transport.
I wonder what's for dinner today. | Khan we need you... Said desperate Calypso.
Me, El Mayor, Thunderstrike and Kervan we... we could not do anything. They have thousands thousands of ships. Their fleet is ready to embark and conquer earth and we can’t stop them.
Khan stood up from the chair. Wearing his usual black drapes. His massive figure is on display. In ancient times they called him Atlas the Gods of old called him the pillar that holds the earth. A titan.
Khan leaves the ship with no word or thought.
He hates being the ender of worlds. He hates knowing that all the innocent people will have to die for their kinsmen’s irrationality and inability to prosper peacefully. Khan’s power is truly immense.
Khan swings his massive arm and opens a portal to his destination.
Reda as beautiful as ever. Reda was a beautiful planet with all types of imaginable vegetation and fauna. The native Redan’s are peaceful people who where conquered by the tyrannical Surenos... Khan was their leader. He conquered half the universe. When he came upon earth he saw that it was good. He stayed and vowed to protect it. So long that humans remain neutral in cosmic warefare. So long they do not do what he did.
War was coming to Earth and its starting point was Reda where all the forces of the surenos were stationed.
As Khan ingested the statuesque scenery he noticed a camp through the thick vegetation. As he approached he realised it was the Redan’s
I come in peace. I am here to save you. Though your planet will be ashes.
The Redan’s know Khan’s face after all you dont become the Khan of the universe and not be hated and recognised everywhere this side of the galaxy.
The Redan’s peaceful and smart knew that Khan was no longer a threat. He was a true king now. He did not lead by fear or power. He lead with inspiration.
Khan quickly opens a portal... Go. No time. They’re coming.
The last of the Redan’s, Khan maybe counted 50 in total. In his mind he thought A whole planet of people is left with only 50 natives because of my people because of what I indoctrinated into them. Fate is such... I began this and I shall end this.
Khan built up power in his massive powerful legs and jumped... Though it wasn’t a jump. He flew. He knew the highest peak in Reda is actually a nest. The natives called him Umburu. In eternal sleep the sky demon was entrapped in the mountain by Khan years before.
Khan flew straight into the mountain destroying it completely.
Demon. You are free. This planet is yours. You shall keep it preserved for when I return.
Instead of destroying the whole planet Khan decided to purify this world of evil. Demons are evil but fiercely protective of their habitat.
A deafening shriek and a flap of wings whuuump whuump and umburu was in the sky again. As soon as the demon was in the sky. Khan jumped again and flew well above the Demon. He wanted to see.
Umburu now nosediving straight for the fleet his eyes start to electrify !POOF! He sends a massive storm cloud that fired lightning with great power at every single ship. In minutes it was done. Thousands of oppressors killing thousands of innocents.
Am I any different now?
Am I still Khan the conqueror.
As the deed was done. The demon now taking his human form flies up to Khan.
Khan you freed me so I can kill your people?
I am no longer of that cloth. I do not crave to kill or conquer.
I want peace.
He falls into a portal back to his dwelling.
The pain Khan feels for the horror he has caused is immeasurable. He killed his entire race. He is the last. | 2021-05-26T05:25:40 | 2021-05-26T01:46:59 | 87 | 65 |
[WP] You did awful, horrible things and served the tyrannical government with the promise of resurrecting your long-dead spouse. You finally capture the legendary rebel against this government. Who upon closer inspection, was your spouse. | “Samantha.” I greet the woman in front of me.
She stands in front of me, behind the other side of the jail cell. Her eyes however, look elsewhere.
I chuckle. “What’s wrong?”
“Why?”
Ah. That was her question.
“Why else? I thought you were dead. Do you know how long it was since you passed?”
“I-“
“A decade Samantha. Ten years. Ten years I mourned you, fought for you, suffered for you. Only for you to be alive.” I let the bitter poison spew out of my mouth.
She clenches her fists. “That wasn’t what you were back then.”
“What? A simple doctor?”
“Someone that cared for others.”
“And how was I supposed to care for others?”
“By moving on from me!”
“AND HOW COULD I?” I snap at her before realizing what I did and look away.
She’s now the one looking at me. The one I can’t look at anymore.
She lets out a breath. “You experimented on human life Adam. Human life. You perversed them into these monsters. These… inhuman things!”
“They were dead when I got the-“
“They had families Adam. Do you know how painful it was for them to shoot their own fathers? Lovers? Their own children?!”
“I know what I did.”
“But-“
“But I didn’t care.” I replied back. I turn to look at her. “I didn’t care what I was doing, I didn’t care what I was taking, sacrificing, breaking, I just didn’t care.”
Water drips from this dry cell as we both stare at each other. But no sound was made from the water.
My voice trembles. “All I wanted was to see you again.”
“Adam… I’m so sorry.”
I look at her as her hands and legs shiver. “Sam it’s not your-“
“I should have found out more about my past, get my memories back.”
“Sam I-“
“You shouldn’t have had to go through this.”
I look at her shocked and moved. Even after everything I’ve done…
Silence reigns the room for a few seconds before I shake my head.
“What I did is irredeemable Sam. I have no excuse. I should have bothered checking the news so the war would have ended. I should have bothered checking with the world but I didn’t. Now all the blood is on my hands, from both sides.”
Footsteps. Samantha turns to see her fellow rebels as they unlock the cell to get me. I stand up and hold my hands up as they add handcuffs in me.
“This is the price I pay.” I mutter to my love as they lead me to the execution grounds. | A single, well-placed shot in the back of the man's neck. Was it cowardly? Perhaps. But I'd stoop to levels you can't even imagine if I thought it might alleviate the burden in my heart.
Clarissa was a chain-smoking poet. A neurotic schoolteacher. A daughter. A wife. A mother. She remained in the souls of many, a candle that refused getting snuffed out, and my memories of her I count as my greatest treasures.
The Marsoigne demanded obedience and respect of its authority. They employed the fiercest warriors as well as the finest magicians in the realm. Their monopoly on violence allowed them to impose order on the chaos of nature, though some felt their influence to be suffocating. That included the man before me--the Baron of Madness--who had brought the Marsoigne to its knees.
"Capture the Baron, and we will grant you free access to our magicians. That includes, of course, our necromancer."
The promise of the councilor reverberated in my mind. Even as a vague reanimation, I'd cherish her. She lived on in my dreams. To have her by my side in waking as well; I'd do anything for such a chance. Which was why I agreed to hunt down the Baron of Madness.
"In the children's eyes, I see hope," Clarissa had once told me. "I want to protect that hope."
A butcher's apprentice told me he had been spotted walking down a certain alleyway, and I wasted no time on stalking the anarchist down. Radical factions bred violence and strife. How many others would lose their loved ones were the Baron allowed to carry out his sinister operations? I couldn't bear the thought.
Now he was splayed before me, having become himself the chaotic mess he sought for our realm. I spat at his back. "You made a mistake, going against the Marsoigne," I said. The corpse had no reply. I imagined the Marsoigne necromancers would bring the wretched soul back to life, only to torture him anew. That was the cost of his madness. There would be no rest. Only suffering.
"Let's see then," I said, before I turned the man over. I had some guesses as to his secret identity. Rumors had spread throughout the realm like the plague. Some assured me it was the police inspector Francois Ribbner. Others guessed it would have to be some wicked criminal, or an operative from a hostile nation. Personally, I believed the Baron of Madness to be the belligerent son of a low-ranking politician. The rot of idealism could very well grow from such a fine source of dung.
Just as I imagined the return of my dear Clarissa, I saw her. With a hole in her neck.
"C-Clare?" I said.
Months prior I had buried her. We lowered her coffin into the ground and covered it with soil. I held a eulogy. Our families came together in mourning. So why did the Baron of Madness have her face?
Still believing it to be some sort of ruse, I searched her clothes. There was a piece of bread and a note. Several names were crossed out. The Baron was delivering food to starving families?
There were no weapons or explosive devices of any kind. No traces of destruction or anarchy. No radical pamphlets or conspiratorial letters.
All the Baron carried was hope.
I sank to my knees, and I held Clarissa in my arms. For a moment I thought the best course of action would be to join her. Then I remembered the necromancers of the Marsoigne. I could clearly recognize Clarissa as the loving woman I married. They would only see the Baron of Madness. If they were to reanimate her ...
The councilor went pale when he saw me return dressed in the garb of the Baron. "I have deceived you," I told him. "I will turn myself in, if you will promise to honor our agreement. My wife had nothing to do with my scheming. She was a mere schoolteacher. You might expect an increase in rank if it becomes known that you captured the Baron of Madness. Otherwise, you might expect a bullet."
"Are you threatening me?" the councilor said.
"Quite so," I assured him. "So what do you say? I take it you are amenable to threats?"
I knew the man well enough to know that he took the matter of honor seriously.
The councilor let out a brief sigh, then said, "Very well. I don't fully understand your intentions, but our agreement still stands." After a silence, he added, "Tell me, were you thinking of delivering to me some patsy? Was your plan to hand the Marsoigne a fake Baron and have the poor soul tortured?"
"Absolutely," I said. "That was my original plan."
"In that case," said the councilor, "what made you change your mind?"
"I suppose I'd rather be a martyr," I told him, and I could spot a wry smile on his lips.
"Even a fake martyr would inspire hope in the peasants, wouldn't he?"
"Perhaps you are right," I said. And for the sake of Clarissa's schoolchildren, I hoped that he truly was. I also hoped I would live on in her heart, as she had in mine. | 2022-03-08T04:38:40 | 2022-03-08T03:59:03 | 356 | 176 |
[WP] A person gets the worst news of their life and the thing they've wanted for years at the same time. | I watched over Skype as the coffin lowered into the ground. I was hoping I would be able to attend the funeral of my baby sister, taken too soon from this world by a man who thought he was sober enough to drive. I wanted to be there so badly but my failing heart was keeping me confined to this damned hospital bed, hooked up almost comically to what seemed like hundreds of wires, pumps and monitors; The only things keeping me alive.
> The first shovelful of dirt was tossed onto the casket.
The Door to my room opened.
> The second.
The nurse stood at my bedside.
> The third.
"I know now isn't the best time Mr. Johansen, but the transplant is ready...
> The fourth.
"No... No, it's okay. This was her last gift to me. I'd hate to waste it."
> The mourners began to turn away, and the live feed to the burial was cut. The nurse began to prepare me to be moved to surgery.
I'll miss my sister terribly, but she'll always be with me.
Soon, she'll always be a part of me.
| Steve's parents had never made a secret of the fact that he was adopted. He knew that his birth mom was 16 and she had gotten pregnant by her high school boy friend 2 weeks before prom. He knew his mom's name: Stephanie Jackson. Steve loved his adoptive family, but from a young age, he had wanted to meet his birth mom and thank her for being responsible enough to make sure he had a good life.
His parents had been supportive of this wish, but they didn't have any direct way of contacting Stephanie. The adoption agency did, but they wouldn't allow direct contact until Steve was 18.
On his 18th birthday, Steve went to the adoption agency's office and requested contact information for his birth mom. His parents had been sending letters and pictures to the agency to be forwarded to his brith mom and they had current contact information. They gave Steve an address and a phone number.
Steve went to his car and pulled out his cellphone and dialed the number.
Ring.
Ring.
Ring.
Ring.
"Hi, you've reached Stephanie. I can't answer the phone right now so if you leave your name and number I'll call you back. Thanks!"
So she didn't answer. Now Steve had to try to come up with a message to leave. "Umm...hey . . . Stephanie. My name is Steve. I'm your son. Umm... ok, that might have been awkward. But I'd like to have lunch or something. So call me back. If you want. Bye."
"That was the most awkward message, she'll never call me back," Steve thought.
That evening, Steve's phone rang. "Hello?!" he answered anxiously.
"Hey, Steve. It's Stephanie."
"Hi! I'm so glad to speak to you."
"You said you wanted to get lunch, how's tomorrow at noon?"
"That sounds great! I have so much I want to talk to you about."
"And I can't wait to hear it. Why don't we meet at that little deli on the corner of Main Street and Union?"
"That sounds great! I can't wait to see you!"
"Ok! See you tomorrow."
Steve was so excited all night and he barely slept. He started getting ready for lunch about two hours early just to have something to do to pass the time.
He got to the deli 15 minutes early and decided he would wait outside for Stephanie.
He was going over and over what he wanted to say in his head and he wasn't paying attention to anything around him. He kept checking the time and noticed that it was 12:10; she was 10 minutes late. What could be keeping her?
" - lying in the road. It's bad."
"What was that?" Steve asked the men in suits.
"There was an accident. Some woman got hit by a hit and run driver a few streets over," the shorter of the two men replied gesturing in the direction of the accident.
"Oh! God." Steve replied as he ran off in the direction the man indicated.
When he arrived on the scene, he saw a group of people surrounding the woman. He heard one of them saying "It'll be ok, Stephanie. We've got the ambulance on the way."
He got up to them and crouched next to his birth mom, the woman he always wanted to meet. It didn't seem like she would make it. He took her hand and she looked into his eyes.
"Steve." She smiled.
"Yea. It's me." He said smiling, fighting back tears.
"I'm so glad I got to meet you." She squeezed his hand.
"I just want you to know - -" He was never able to finish that sentence because at that moment the ambulance arrived and to take her away.
She died 20 minutes later. | 2014-05-04T14:59:51 | 2014-05-04T12:26:13 | 18 | 10 |
[WP] Every person in the world develops a weird mutation/power the day they turn 16. Everyone's powers are always different, some more insignificant than others. You turn 16, and watch as all your friends discover their newfound ability's. That is, until you discover the severity of your own. | Every girl is excited for her sweet sixteen.
Back in the days of my parents, it was the usual coming of age tradition. They celebrated with getting their license, and driving a brand new car. It was the coming age of independence. We all wanted to finally grow up and start our adult lives.
However, in my generation, the tradition began to shift. Sudden, the age of sixteen didn't only mark the coming of age, but also a sudden change in ourselves. Things started becoming a bit different, and many of us found the greatest gift of all was the one dormant inside of us after all of these years. We have been given by chance, a power that could change the world.
It was a dream of mine as long as I could remember. I would watch the celebrities on reality television shows like "My Sweet Sixteen" who would develop these flashy superpowers, or the brave men and women who would use the powers that came to them to make a difference. For some it didn't matter what the power was, but how to find a way to use it for good, and many of today's heroes were welcomed with open arms by taking even the most mundane abilities and changing somebody's life with it. I wanted to at least be that person, and use my powers to make a change.
The time passed and the morning arrived on my birthday. I didn't feel any different at all when I rose from bed. I tried moving every muscle, but no matter how I flexed or which direction I threw myself, it didn't seem like anything was changing. I could feel my heart pounding inside of me, and the sweat of nervousness begin to form on my face. Was it possible that I simply had no power at all?
I thought of my friends, who on their sweet sixteens got all sorts of unique powers. One could create knots in anything. One could change the speed of wind, so that our hair would not be messed up on a stormy day, but regardless of how they used them, every power was uniquely theirs and helped defined who they were both in school and in the town. I always knew I was bound to get something, and I wanted to do my best to help others with it. It would be far too disappointing if there was nothing at all.
I was nervous. I was embarrassed. I couldn't just simply tell anyone that I didn't receive a power at all. Nobody would believe me. Every teenager gets one on their 16th birthday. After "the accident" 30 years ago, it happened to everyone born in the last 30 years on their 16th birthday. It was a fact.
Was there a chance that there is a mutation and some of us are born as "unlucky?" I thought about it desperately. How could this possibly happen to me? I never did wrong. I was not the most popular person in school, and I didn't stand out, but I was always friendly and remained active in clubs. My grades were never bad, not the best, but always above average.
The commute to school was causing me to get incredibly worried. I kept trying everything I could. Any thought that came to mind was acted upon but nothing seemed to help whatsoever. I got on the bus and tried to keep my cool. Fortunately none of my friends or classmates know my usual route to school, so nobody will even know it is my birthday. I can get away with being a powerless freak until I figure out what's wrong with me.
Walking down the street I begin to overhear two boys arguing among each other. One looks like somebody I had recognized from school. He started shaking his fist. Below me the ground starts to shake and I try to take hold of something stuck to the ground. All around I feel buildings collapse and crevices open up below. This boy has the power to create 10.0 earthquakes and, if so inclined, split the entire planet into two.
As the ground starts to gain steadiness again I notice the boys have been split by a large gap in the earth. There is a lot of disaster and damage control in the surrounding area. A few hired officials and freelancers with abilities come to secure the area and I see the boy taken away. They say the most dangerous abilities are the ones that they keep a closer watch on. This boy must have just gained those powers. I begin to wonder if maybe it's better that I am powerless than to have been born with such a destructive power.
The gap is too wide and with my school on the other side I begin to try and find a way across. I begin to walk along the perimeter of the split, taking each step sideways until I can find a small enough gap to jump across. It would be nice if I could jump higher or farther as my ability. Like those old superheroes who could leap from building to building in major cities.
As i'm walking side ways I begin to notice that the crack is getting smaller and smaller. I continue to walk faster and notice with each step I take that the ground seems to repair itself until I reach the very end. I must be dreaming. I run back to the center point of the damage scene and see a car in pieces. I pick up each piece and put it onto the car. Little by little I notice the car repair itself and go back into proper order. The driver waves at me in gratitude before driving off again.
There is always that student that wants to solve and fix every problem. You could say I was the guilty one in my class. Always trying to find the answer and make it right. The way I see my ability, is a manifestation of that. My body wants to put things back together and restore it to its proper place. No matter what the catastrophe or what damage happens, I want to have it go back to normal. The power I have been given is able to do just that.
I always hoped I could make a change. There are so many problems we are that are faced in the world. I simply wanted a way to fix them. | At 16, you get a mutation, and only one mutation, they say. At 16, your life really begins. I never realized just how true it was. It’s funny. As my friends all hit 16, all gained their powers, I thought that surely I’d get one that surpassed all of them. That I’d be the greatest mutant ever. I never realized just how true that sentiment was.
I walked down the street, keeping my head low. It was a lazy Saturday morning and I liked to take brisk walks, feel the heat of the sun on my skin, the chill of the wind causing goosebumps. I could hear running behind me before my vision suddenly went blank and my body nearly toppled over from their weight.
“Guess who?” a high pitch voice asked. I’ve told her that I don’t like it when she does this. I hate being snuck up on, and my girlfriend doesn’t like the idea of another woman wrapping her arms around me so much either.
It had been a couple years ago that my best friend Dave had turned 16. I asked him what his power was, but it wasn’t until a month later that I found out. On my girlfriend’s 16th of all days. She was blowing out the candles on her cake. Dave took me into one of the bedrooms.
“Do you think I should let everyone know?” he asked as I turned around from closing the door. “I’ve got the power, mine as well use it, right?”
Looking back at me was a woman that looked very Dave-like, standing in his clothes which were clearly oversized for his much tinnier body. A blush was on her face and I understood why she hadn’t wanted to reveal who she was.
“Sure, why not, stranger things have happened,” I said. It was true. There was a guy with the utters of a cow sticking out of his stomach. And he couldn’t turn that off. “You have a girl name to use though?”
“Sandie?” she chirped.
Back on the adventures of my walk, I felt her hands release my eyes as I answered, “Sandie?”
“Of course,” she said, smiling at me. After a couple weeks of going back and forth, Dave started to stay as Sandie more often, until Dave just disappeared one day.
“You coming to my party tonight?” she asked.
I looked down at the sidewalk and kicked a pebble back into someone’s front yard. Then I looked up at the sun, directly into its beating heart, its rays penetrating every bone beneath my skin.
“Yeah, Elizabeth really wants to go,” I replied.
And so later that night I met up with Elizabeth and we headed to Sandie’s party. Why she was having a party escaped me, but why Sandie did what she did often escaped me. Apparently I’m not the only one.
I watched as Elizabeth, graced with the ability to fly, levitateed towards some of her friends, her feet never touching the ground. I must admit, I was a bit jealous. Still am. Who wouldn’t want such a cool ability?
“Noah!” a rather large man said, running over towards me. I was surprised to see Elizabeth’s older brother at Sandie’s party.
“Mike!” I replied, shaking his hand. His whole midsection looked like some huge, overinflated beach-ball. “Hey, seeing as though you’re here, you think I can talk to you for a second?”
“No problem,” he replied, mindful of his swinging midsection. Poor bastard. I certainly don’t envy him.
“I want to ask your permission to ask for your sister’s hand in marriage,” I said to him bluntly. “I’m proposing to her tonight.”
“Seriously?” he said, looking almost taken aback. He fumbled in his wallet for something and then showed it to me. “That’s awesome! Now you’ll actually be my bro. But you see this girl in the picture?”
I looked and saw him and Elizabeth at some birthday party. Judging by how he was still in shock over his mutation, I figured it was his 16th. Which meant that the cute girl staring back was a 14 year old Elizabeth, from before I met her. They stood around a table with birthday cake on it, as well as glasses of half-drunken milk. She was pretty cute with a milk mustache.
“You better take good care of her, or you’ll answer to me,” Mike told me. His gaze was dead serious.
“Yes sir,” I replied. It never did cross my mind until I went to bed that the only glass of milk untouched in the photo was Elizabeth’s.
Later that night I sat beneath the stars. The moon was out in the sky, a full large moon and it lit up the blanket we laid on nicely. I caressed her cheek.
“It won’t work,” the dull, slow voice said. I ignored it and continued to lay on the blanket with her.
“Look, Elizabeth, there’s something I wanted to ask you,” I started. But the voice interrupted me again. I stared up at the moon and yelled profanities into the night wind.
“I’m just trying to help you,” the voice said. “I’ve been talking to you for two years. Don’t you trust me by now? I’ve been alive for eons, I’ve watched humanity since its origins. I know a thing or two about relationships. Which will work and which won’t.”
“Are you alright?” Elizabeth asked, concerned about me. No one knew about my actual powers.
“Yeah,” I replied. “Sorry about that.”
And then I reached into my pocket, pulled out the ring, and got on my knees.
“Will you marry me?”
“No,” she replied. “Look, I’ve actually been meaning to break up with you since I turned 18. We’re going off to separate colleges and everything. Did you really think we were going to stay together?”
And so I walked away, not another word, and headed home, tossing the ring in a bush along the way. Not the wisest decision, but I couldn’t bare to hold on to it.
“Told you so,” the voice said.
I stopped in my tracks, my fist raised high in the sky.
“Well fuck you Moon! So you’re right. You’re always right. Happy now? Just let me wallow in my misery.”
“Thank you,” the moon replied back to me. “The Sun owes me a solar eclipse now.”
“How does that work?” I asked, my rage suddenly gone, replaced by curiosity. I’ve learned a lot since I started being able to talk to the sun and the moon. Never knew they could talk. Apparently I’m the only one with the mutation though.
“Science is so full of itself,” the Moon laughed. “Only reason we do eclipses is because we lose bets to each other. And stop moping. You want to know what else is going on in the world right now? I can see it all. Trust me, being dumped isn’t the worst of it.”
“Thanks for the pep talk,” I said sarcastically. “You know I thought I was crazy at first when you guys started talking to me. But you’ve given me so much wisdom and knowledge. Things that others can’t seem to understand. With you two, I’ll be able to usher in a new age of humanity, a golden age full of peace and happiness.”
“Well, we’re just glad to have someone to talk to,” the Moon said.
Suddenly I felt my body twerk as a car hit me and I flew into their windshield, rolling over onto the ground. The car drove off speedily as I got up. Not even a scratch. The ground I fell on though had some rather large cracks. You’d think I’d at least bruise or have a little blood, but I can’t remember the last time I did.
“Why didn’t you tell me a car was coming?!” I shouted to the Moon as he laughed.
“That was awesome!”
And so I walked home, yet again failing to realize, as I so often did, what was really going on. Of course that night, when my little sister who had just turned 16 today, used her powers on me, a whole new wave of understanding would come over me. I’d finally understand all the things I’d been missing for the last few years. But at the moment I continued walking, laughing and conversing with the Moon, wondering what the Sun might have to say about all this. | 2015-01-21T21:40:29 | 2015-01-21T19:45:47 | 181 | 65 |
[WP] Every person in the world undergoes a "goodness" test. It's designed to give a score from 1 to 200, where 1 is pure evil, and 200 is an angel in human body. Then the world is divided into 200 zones, where people can live among their own kind. | "Your annual re-evaluation results are in, Geoffrey", came the familiar, monotone voice of Master Computer. Some people found it creepy, but I was actually fond of the emotionless machine. You could always rely on its honesty and incorruptibility. Today, however, I would've loved to have been able to bribe, coerce or manipulate it.
"Sandra!" I called out to my wife. "Computer's back with my new score."
I took a deep breath as Sandra walked in, a familiar look of worry on the face, and turned back towards the screen.
"How'd I do, M.C.?"
I'm sure it had sounded like a great idea at the time, separating the good from the evil. The good don't deserve to suffer the misdeeds of the evil, and what could be a more appropriate way to punish those who commit them? And I'm sure it seemed like a good idea to have the re-evaluations. After all, people change over time and it would be absurd to ignore corruption and remorse. The problem was its effect on human relationships. It was hard to make friends, let alone fall in love, when everyone you know might be in different zones the next year.
Maybe it wouldn't be a problem if there weren't so many different tiers. Four or five might've been fine, but with two-hundred, the slightest change in behaviour could knock you into a different zone. This is was led to the invention of the "goodness tracker" app that allowed anyone to keep count of how they were doing on a day-to-day basis.
The computer replied in the same dull voice. "Your score is 151, Geoffrey".
Sandra smiled at me as I breathed a sigh of relief. It had taken a lot of theft to make up for that kidney donation. | For some reason, some of the higher numbers thought the later-generation Ones deserved a chance at redemption, so they decided to build a few schools. They gave up after finding fifteen employees in a pile in front of the facilities. I managed to get some loot out of that pile. Fed me for a month. That was 15 years ago.
Oh, don't look at me like that. It's not like *they* were going to use it.
I'm part of the third generation to live here. Based on the books I managed to steal from that school before most of the teachers died or quit, this whole system came from some test that determined morality. The scores go all the way up to 200, that unbelievable level of morality that all of the world's leaders had at the time. Standard of living was determined by the score one gets. 200's get luxury somewhere in the South Pacific. We get a desert that needs supplies dropped to avoid a human rights uproar.
They must have figured that we would have been dead by now, because otherwise I'm pretty sure my grandpa would have been put in a gas chamber given the faith they put in the test. They didn't do another test, but it's not like I could communicate with the outside to take one. Even if I did, why should anyone listen to a *One*. We're probably going to shoot up the testing facility. (Actually, someone would do a lot worse than shooting it up.)
I was curious about something mentioned in one of the books. It was called the "internet," an almost limitless source of information and communication. By all indications, it has to still exist somehow, though most technology is guarded by the military.
Don't get me wrong. I'm already smarter than the average guy pointing a gun in my face, but I want more. I want to know the map of the brain. I want to read random stories on forums. I want to know how the World Order overcame the intense nationalism of almost every country on the planet.
I want to know how they made the test. I need to know. Why am I in the slums? What did I actually do?
To that end, I started weighing my options ten years ago. There is probably going to be some kind of self-destruct sequence on anything I could find in Zone 1, and I doubt anything would be able to access the internet anyway. I'm not going to be able to put a hole in the wall. If I tried to climb it, I would probably get shot and the foundation is too deep to dig under.
And then I looked at the sky. Helicopters monitor everything. They don't care if we kill each other, of course, but they will shoot me if I try anything. I couldn't attack them, and it would have been impossible to lure them into a trap. Even if I tried making a big red SOS on the roof, they're not humanitarians. They're almost as bad as we are.
I stared at the things for hours. They didn't have unlimited fuel, and I knew it. My goal was to find the military base in Zone 1 and ask politely if I could join.
I was sixteen. Almost combat age. I assumed they needed a new scumbag, but I was wrong.
They had a few too many.
They beat an unarmed sixteen-year-old half to death. I lied there for three hours before another one crouched next to me. I tried to move away, but he didn't try to hit me.
"They didn't beat you too badly did they?" he said, pulling out some bandages.
Long story short, I managed to join the professional scumbags after some serious psychological tests. Apparently, Ones didn't usually join the military. Who would have thought it would be a bad idea to go anywhere near the people who will shoot you for looking at them funny?
I got access to the military databases one year ago. There was no mention of how the test ran, but all critics of the test were scored below 20, as were the members all but one political party. I stopped looking then. I could put two and two together.
Six months ago, I was tried and found guilty of desertion.
I was scheduled to be executed yesterday, but, instead, I woke up in Zone 1 with an unlocked green crate next to me. I looked inside and smiled from ear to ear.
I'm gonna burn this place to the ground. | 2016-08-26T14:51:22 | 2016-08-26T14:43:42 | 27 | 13 |
[WP]There is no prompt. Just write a story you've always been thinking about or one you've been thinking about sharing. Anything goes. | "There is no prompt. Just write a story you've always been thinking about, or one you've been thinking about sharing. Anything goes."
The old man looked at me, and gave a knowing wink. They were the words that I'd needed to hear. I had been looking all over for inspiration from other people. For people to give me the start, or the theme. I'd even visited Reddit's writing prompts. But he was right. There is no prompt. You just have to write. So I went home, and wrote. I wrote tales of gods and demons, tales of men who could fly, tales of love, loss, hate and every other emotion I could think of. It wasn't enough. I had to write more. I needed to.
The old man's words drove me, and I went to publishers with my works. They hated them. I was deflated, but not broken. I could still do this. The man had known, known that I was a writer, suffering from that problem. So I wrote about a kindly old man, who knew things. Who went around, and told people what they needed to hear. For me he had no name, for to put a crude label on one so great was a crime.
This time one publisher said that they would put the book out there, but that I shouldn't expect it to make me a lot of money. I didn't mind, I would improve. I was already writing my next book. It was drawn from my darkest dreams, and seemed to flow out of me on its own accord. I was astounded, and the publishers loved it too. I wrote a sequel, then a third, the a whole saga. I wove a complex universe, and became a celebrated author. I had book signings, I sold the film rights to a successful director, and he put my world on the big screen.
I was unstoppable. I wrote more and more. I found a guy who liked me for more than my books. We started going out. He asked me what my secret was. How the hell did I write so well. Was there some sort of prompt that I used.
"There is no prompt. Just write a story you've always been thinking about, or one you've been thinking about sharing. Anything goes."
I echoed the words that I had heard so long ago. And soon my boyfriend was writing some short children's stories. We were happy, and eventually, I proposed to him. He said yes. The wedding was beautiful, and we now live with our adopted daughter. Today is the day our first joint novel is released. It starts with a quote: 'There is no prompt. Just write a story you've always been thinking about, or one you've been thinking about sharing. Anything goes.'
We hope to inspire new authors the world over. We're holding a book signing in our home city, and we're expecting a good turnout. It's all going well, and just before I take a break for lunch, a kindly, elderly gentleman approaches the desk, with two books. Our first, and my first. He looks at me, and I recognise him.
"I know that it's a little unusual, but would you mind signing both of these?"
Of course, I can't refuse him. I'm just surprised that he's still alive after all this time.
"Don't be surprised, son, I've been inspiring people's passions, pushing them down the right path for a long time. But always remember, that even if I gave you the first push, you were the one who walked the path, you were the one who made this all. I wish you, and your family, the best of luck in your days, and a peaceful rest after."
I numbly sign the books, and as he leaves, I call out after him.
"If you ever need my help, please, don't hesitate to ask."
He nods in acknowledgement, and leaves. I would meet him once more. Only once, as I lay dying, in a hospital bed. My husband would have been taken from me years earlier, and my daughter would be married with a child on the way. My daughter and her husband would be at my side, and he would walk in. He would look to me, and to my daughter, and finally to my son-in-law. And then he would speak.
"Do not worry, your father shall not suffer, for he promised that if there were ever anything he could do for me, he would. I am here to ask just one thing of him. Please, old friend, be at peace."
And, in spite of everything, I would be.
This is my first story, I hope that you guys like it, and any feedback would be welcome.
| Howard and I sat in our respective chairs, looking through thousands of white specs against the black curtains of the universe. We had been 2 of a team of 15 people working with the Hubble telescope. In reality running an operation like this takes a small town's worth of people, but as far as the actual research and data collection goes, we're it. We had aimed Hubble at a pitch black patch of space, focused on and picked up any and all light in the area. We expected nothing. We had sent a man to the moon, we knew better than to 'expect' anything.
The pure awe from what was captured after a couple weeks time of exposure was unparalelled. Not one or two distant stars. No... billions of them! Galaxies! Countless tiny little embers. It made us rethink our view of the universe and showed us that there was more to be found. Some things, though, are meant for a certain time and place. Some things, if discovered before their time, can cause wars. Level entire nations. Drive people to depravity to acquire it.
"Hmm, after reading the data from Hubble, there seems to be something quite off about the 'Deep Field'. There's an incredible amount of light coming from the upper right. Several orders of magnitude brighter than any known lightsource in our universe. It could be the farthest thing away from us in the universe, considering all the data." Howard noted. He stuck the eraser end of his pencil upward and balanced his chin on its point. He looked puzzled and also amused.
"It's probably nothing. This photo just proves we have no clue what the hell we're doing! We had no idea the universe was *this big*. Just imagine, there would be stars out there brighter than the one you're interested in." I retorted. I did indeed find it interesting, but we had much to go through. We had only catalogued 3% of the stars within the image. Let alone *researching* them. Stars lives for billions of years, it could wait. I was still on the bottom left corner.
"I just, I can't stop looking at it now. I just... is it still pointed towards the Field?" He asked, almost impatient. I guess I should just let him get on with it. Howard was a great colleague, a good man, but damn once he gets started he won't stop till it's finished.
I sighed as I said, "Yes, the feed is still on. What, you think you can make out anything through a grainy feed with your 23/40 vision?"
"I just... wait let me..." He put the feed on his computer. I started to get a very uneasy feeling as I watched him while my heart started to bounce around. *The hell was going on?*
"There it is!! What is that?! It's just a pixel, but that's it... That's got to be..." His voice trailed off. His back was facing me as he sat hunched over directly infront of the screen, inching closer and closer.
"Howard? What? What is *what*?" He was shaking now, still transfixed on the screen, entranced.
"It's uhh... I mean... Hahaha!" He burst out laughing, yet kept his face directly paralell to the screen. He seemed almost inebriated. "Heh... It's... Ah god.... it's He-...." My heart was bursting out of my chest. I felt an intense dread strike me. This wasn't him. I had never seen this in my life.
"Howard what the fuck is going on? Is this some kinda of joke?" My voice was shaking.
"I've found... Heaven... Hahaha!" His laugh twisted upwards on itself in a maniacal fit. He sat there, giggling lazily, rubbing his chest, twitching slightly, small spasms crept through his body as he stopped forming words or sentences.
"Heb... ap.. bluhhh.. hehehe, HAHAHA!" He burst out laughing again, in between grunting, writhing, and seeming as if he was trying to speak, yet was lost in ecstasy.
I got up and walked over to him cautiously, but he paid me no attention anymore. His eyes never left the screen, never blinked. He continued fidgeting around until, he suddenly stopped. He giggle a little, then sat completely still and his mouth slowly lowered. A small strand of drool snuck its way down his chin, onto his pants. I didn't dare look at the screen. I stared at him. His eyes... oh god his eyes. I will never forget them, lifelessly staring, helpless almost. He looked dead.
He was a fucking shell. I proded him, slapped him, pinched him. Nothing... I screamed his name into his ear and he sat, staring. I had called my other colleagues at this point, and they were coming as quickly as they could after I'd explained this wasn't a joke.
I finally decided to do what I'd been dreading, yet the only thing I knew would snap him out of it. I felt panic as I reached over.... and turned his computer off.
The next bit, I can't remember. When they found us, Howard was over me, beating my chest. All of my ribs had been broken. I had a major concussion, lacerations on my arms and collarbone, and was unconcious in a pool of my own blood. I had nearly died that day. They said that when they had finally restrained him, he stabbed a security gaurd in the knee with a shard of glass before slitting his own throat. They said he was speaking tongue's until the moment before he died, which the gaurd heard him utter, "Bethany" before plunging the glass into his neck...
I never knew the signifigance of the name. Howard had a wife and no kids that I knew of. He was old enough for his kids to have kids...
The 'incident' became one of the biggest coverups in history. The Deep Field image was doctored, cropping out... Heaven... and releasing the rest. The original data was destroyed and Howards computer was replaced the next morning, along with all the rest of ours.
I dedicate my work to Howard now. He was a good man...
There is one thing though. In a box, in a storage locker far from my house, I saved the original image. I never looked at it. Until today, so I'm writing this incase someone finds me. All these years it's been eating at me. I just needed to look.. I mean... I had to... I just... I don't... *HAHAHAHA!*
~~~~~~~~
Thank you for making this thread. I saw a while back, before the creation of this account, a thread titled something like: "[WP]Scientists in the 90's discovered heaven somewhere in space, but for some reason, decided not to announce it to the world."
I wanted so badly to write a short story to that prompt, but the thread was long dead before I could write up a decent story. So that is the plot I am going by. | 2016-09-11T11:04:25 | 2016-09-11T09:59:29 | 30 | 14 |
[WP] The astronauts aboard the ISS watch helplessly as the Earth is destroyed by nuclear war. | Demitri presses his head against the Cupola, his neck craned as the continent of Africa rotates out of view and the American Eastern seaboard is still not quite visible .
He sighs heavily and waits.
Nino Johnston sits with his back to him, staring at the intercom speaker, not daring to turn his head. Nino is willing Huston to tell them its all a joke, a lie, a terrible misunderstanding, its all resolved. Demitri knows that that is not going to happen.
A series of small flares light up the horizion, the Eastern seaboard slowly creeps into view and is lights up like a string of small firecrackers.
He pushes himself from the glass of the cupola and moves to the starboard of the capsule.
"It has happened" he dryly announces as he cranes his neck even further to see if he can see the motherland light up like a christmas tree as well.
"God forgive them" Nino whispers into his hands as he rubs his face. The intercom sits silent and useless in the control panel.
"Are we expected to kill each other too"? Demitri wants to know.
"Do they fucking expect us to tear each other apart here? fucking morons"
Red square must be gone now, as would be the Church of St Peter and Paul. He is sure that is brother and sister have made it at least to Kazakstán, hopefully that will be something, but his mother, his poor sick mother.
"Bastards"
Nino straightens his back and unbuckles from the console seat . " Im going up front, we still have to keep this operational"
"Demitri, check on the radio and see if we are picking up anything from the civilan channels, lets find out how bad it really is down there.
| INT. ISS - DAY/NIGHT
A window, with a beautiful view of planet Earth.
In front of it is a control panel with keys and buttons abound. One button is large and red and protected in a glass case. Above it on the ledge sits a keurig set up.
JOHNSON walks in, yawning, stretching his arms. He admires the view. He looks at the keurig, loads it, searches for a 'brew' button - can't find it. Taking caution, he tries a few harmless looking buttons on the control panel. No dice. He looks at the large red button and frowns. He scratches himself, nods, sets back the glass covering, and slowly presses it down.
A beat.
He looks to the keurig. Still not brewing. Hmm. Back at the button. He releases his hand -
In full view from the window, the Earth erupts in horrible, silent, nuclear fireworks.
He doesn't notice for a second. He looks up; his eyes widen.
LT. HENCKELS walks in, scratching herself, groggy.
LT. HENCKELS
Morning, Johnson.
She double takes at the view of the bursting inferno that once held her beautiful condo and her summer home in San Juan.
LT. HENCKELS
Uh, Johnson, exactly what am I looking at here?
Johnson, eyes still wide in horror, now blanches.
LT. HENCKELS
Did you happen to uh, press the global nuclear
arms initiate button, by any chance?
Johnson looks at her. He laughs with chagrin.
LT. HENCKELS
Oh my god, you did. Captain! Captain, get in
here.
JOHNSON
No! No, please.
LT. HENCKELS
This was completely irresponsible.
CAPT. LEE hurries in.
CAPT. LEE
What? What is it?
He sees the destruction of his home planet and most likely his two super model mistresses along with it.
CAPT. LEE
Johnson. What the hell did you do?
JOHNSON
Look I thought it was for the keurig! I couldn't
find the 'brew' button!
CAPT. LEE
You thought it was a brew button?! It's got a god
damn glass case over it.
JOHNSON
I'm sorry. I messed this up. I was tired, and just
wanted coffee, but that's no excuse. I messed this
up for you guys.
CAPT. LEE
Johnson, you complete dunderhead.
LT. HENCKELS
You blew up Earth Johnson!
JOHNSON
I know! I'm sorry.
CAPT. LEE
You thought it was the brew button?
JOHNSON
I thought it was the brew button!
CAPT. LEE
For god's sake.
LT. HENCKELS
The brew buttons right here, right on the top of
the thing...
(she demonstrates)
You just press it like that, see?
It begins brewing.
JOHNSON
Okay, well... Why did we put a keurig here in the
first place? This is a bad place to have a keurig. And
why do we even have a button that destroys the Earth?
What kind of sense does that make?
CAPT. LEE
Don't try to weasel out of this Johnson.
JOHNSON
No, no, it's my fault.
CAPT. LEE
Yeah, and now we have to find a new PLANET TO
LIVE ON.
JOHNSON
Again, I'm sorry. I'll never hear the end of this.
CAPT. LEE
I know the Russians have a few colonies on Mars,
but I don't speak Russian.
LT. HENCKELS
I know like three words, maybe.
CAPT. LEE
Do you speak Russian Johnson?
JOHNSON
No.
He hangs his head. A long beeeep. The coffees done. | 2016-10-26T10:58:05 | 2016-10-26T09:27:07 | 56 | 11 |
[WP]People have powers based on their strongest emotion, and become stronger as they embrace it. Healers might draw power from love or empathy, warriors; anger or self preservation, etc. You draw power from being incredibly sassy.
Or other emotions, like being passive aggressive, or overly dramatic. | I couldn't help it. It's all my fault. No, I can't start thinking like this again, it only makes me stronger. It isn't me, it's *it.* It is not me, right? Of course not. I myself am weak and useless. But *it* might stop me. The healers know happiness, and they are never lonely like I am. The warriors feel *something* at least. I feel nothing anymore. At first I thought this apathy came with nothing. I must be defective, or just some sort of fluke. No powers at all? I'm such a shame. I wish I could think that again. Having no powers would be infinitely better than this monster inside of me. I stupidly tried to ask someone. "Maybe a healer could help?" I thought. He agreed and thought of something happy. That's how he focuses, he says. I wish I could think of anything. My mind is so clouded. As soon as he touches me, he seemed to start sweating. I felt a small spark of an unknown feeling, but it was quickly drowned out by the nothingness. Wait, that's not right. He should just snap his fingers and it should be done. A look of anguish washed over his face. I felt the spark again, but this time it was weaker. It persisted slightly longer though. The man let go and fell back once the spark disappeared again. "Wh-what did you do to me?" He asked. He seemed completely drained. A cold drop of sweat beaded from his forehead. "What do you mean? Did you heal me?" Healers are normally passive, joyous people. This healer was no longer. "Get away from me, now! I'm calling the cops!" No, I didn't do anything! What is wrong? Why must this happen to me? I reached out to touch him as he grabbed his phone. I held to his forearm trying to get through to him. "Stop!" He screamed. I couldn't let go now. My hand was paralyzed. No, it was more like something took over. My grip tightened against my will. The healer became still. Somehow I began to feel something. The spark was bright hot, a loud noise rang in my ear. The feeling faded, but the ringing remained. A reminder of what it felt like to feel again? I snapped out of it. Something *is* terribly wrong with me. His pulse from his wrist warmed my hand, so he wasn't dead. He just sat there silent. I could control my hand now, but I wanted more. I squeezed him tighter, and more of the sparks came. This was wrong, but it felt so right. I gripped his hand for a good 3 minutes until the sparks stopped. The healer was unconcious at this point. I could see that something dark stood over me. It had no form, it was only a gaseous ball. It cried out, in a voice too similar to mine. **"I want more. Give me more."** My power spreads quickly. My entire neighborhood is nothing but a lifeless pit of zombies. I can't bring this monster upon the world. I don't belong here, I never did. If you find this note next to my body I am already dead, as you can see. If you find it anywhere else, then it has taken over me, and I may as well be dead. Stay away from me at all costs. | And so it was, that when Meister P finally burst into the throne room, he feared he was too late, for a scene of utter carnage lay before him. At the far end, the Grand Vizier, bursting with foul and bestial magic, stood atop the throne, cackling with unrestrained glee.
“No!” Meister P yelled, running to the fallen bodies of his comrades, smouldering husks upon the cold, granite floor.
“Varyan! You’re the strongest warrior this land has ever seen! Stand, stand and fight!”
Shaking, trembling, Varyan lifted his head weakly to meet Meister P’s eyes. “Forgive me, I am too… scared to fight…”
“Impossible!” Meister P yelled. “Where’s the raging bull I know? Summon your anger, your temper, unbridle it all! Against a hundred men you could stand, what is one black cruel wizard?”
“It’s no use,” wheezed Lelial, “the dark one’s curses are entwined in us. Varyan can no more brawl than I can heal even the smallest laceration now. He sees only that which he truly fears, and in the face of fear, his anger has no ground to take root...”
Meister P rushed to Lelial’s side, and caressed her head in his lap. “Not you too… Open your eyes, I beg you, I beseech! Heal us with your songs, spirit away our pain, and maybe we’ll be able to withstand…”
“You don’t understand,” whimpered Lelial, “the Grand Vizier… his woven illusions are too strong. I tried healing Varyan, but I couldn’t see his face, I only saw my enemies in his place. How then could I summon the empathy I need to heal? I am helpless too…”
A thunderclap burst through the throne room as a streak of black lightning struck not five feet from where Meister P stood.
“Fools! Imbeciles!” bellowed the Grand Vizier. “You stand before me and whine? I am the Grand Vizier, master of illusions, and I know that my powers overwhelm all that you can offer! My confidence is my overwhelming font of power! The kingdom is mine!”
Meister P calmly stood up, and turned to face the Grand Vizier. “You’re wrong. I am still here, and with these three Artifacts of Power, I will cast you down.”
“Three…. Artifacts of Power? You mean… the copper necklace around your neck? The wrinkled moth-eaten scarf on your shoulders? Your wooden… cane?”
The Grand Vizier laughed, long and hard, then, in a flash, sprang forward like a loosened bull, straight for the jugular…
… and Meister P’s voice, like a heated knife through animal fat, rang out through the hall, mustering strength, growing from a lone wolf’s howl to a cacophony, a typhoon of sonic energy. As the words spilled forth, the copper necklace shimmered with light, and radiantly burst into a giant, gaudy chain of the finest gold, with a medallion at the end, embossed with “M.P.”.
***I’m a raging rhymer, I no need no timer
To cook these tunes to pacify ya
When I’m done you be there all angry hatin’
While I’m here just sitting back and masturbatin’
And you can wait all night cause I’ll never tire***
“What, what sorcery is this!” yelled the Grand Vizier, throwing his hands up to shield against the piercing light reflecting off the Medallion of Rebellion. The rays burned clean through the Grand Vizier’s illusions, tearing away his defences.
But Meister P was not done. No, he had barely started.
His tempo, unbroken, built and raged, and the energies coursed through him like waters released from a broken dam. The unseemly textile around his shoulders twisted violently, leaping around like an angry whip, then burst into flames as the textile unwound into the pinkest, fluffiest, hundred-foot long feather boa ever seen.
***You come into my lands all direspectin’
Here’s some facts that you need be checkin’
Whoa whoa whoa did you think that you’re a big guy?
Well then let me notify, and clarify
Before your fool ass makes us all be chucklin’***
“Noooo…” was all the Grand Vizier could manage, as the Flaming Boa of Style whipped through the air, beating him into submission on the ground. Feathers filled the air, but the ancient Artifact remained as fluffy as ever.
Meister P raged on, hard.
As he raised his wooden cane in the air, the wood blackened rapidly, as if the fires of hell had leapt up to consume it. Then, almost as quickly as it had turned black, the cane whitened, and pieces of ash flaked off, trailing through the air like dandelions upon the summer winds. The cane was no simple cane no more, as its true golden nature shone through, every inch inlaid with fat, ripened jewels and rubies. At its top, where Meister P wielded it, was a diamond so large, it beggared belief that the gods could ever craft something so pure.
***Scat you rat, just pack up and go
Ain’t no room for ya when I’m in flow
Your powers are weak you’re thin and reedy
Come back maybe after your puberty
Then perhaps with me you can finally tango***
Meister P towered over the Grand Vizier, slithering on the floor, defeated, defenestrated, and Meister P resolutely plunged the Bitchin’ Cane of Cool right into the devil’s heart.
And so it was, that once again, sassy won the day.
---
[/r/rarelyfunny](https://www.reddit.com/r/rarelyfunny/) | 2017-01-19T07:43:12 | 2017-01-19T06:05:01 | 34 | 17 |
[WP] At age 15 you told the gf you were "in love" with that you'd always be there when she was in need. Aphrodite heard you and made it a reality, whenever your gf was in need you appear at her side. Problem is, you and the girl broke up after 3 weeks but you still appear even now..10 years later | The main problem with our situation was plane ticket prices.
See, like most wannabe indie girls, I had always wanted to travel after college. Live in summertime for a couple years, write a poem in every continent, cheesy stuff like that. I wanted to meet all kinds of different people. I wanted to visit cat cafes, which New York was severely lacking. I guess… I guess I also wanted to see just how far the strange godly bond between my ex-girlfriend and I could stretch. Maybe if I moved across the ocean, I told myself, then I wouldn’t have this problem anymore.
As it turned out, the godly bond stretched at least from New York to Spain. It also stretched from New York to Israel, and to Panama, and to Shanghai. No matter where I went, whenever my ex needed me (the definition of need was *definitely* subjective here), I would be godly transported right to her side. Aphrodite doesn’t play around, not even if you were only 15 and mostly joking when you told her you’d always be there when she was in trouble.
Anyways, I’m getting off track. The plane tickets. The plane tickets were what really made the whole thing hell, because although Aphrodite had the goodness in her heart to teleport me places, she never quite found the time to teleport me back. And although Addie always offered to split the ticket price, I never took her up on it. Would’ve felt like stealing. After all, it was my dumb ass who got us into this mess.
Italy was something new. After a couple weeks in Egypt I figured I’d turn back to Eastern Europe. I’d taken a red-eye, rented a car and driven to the motel I’d rented in Florence. Just as I finished unpacking my suitcase, I felt the first tugging sensations in my stomach. *God damn it.*
I scrambled to grab a hold of my Epi-Pen and my phone. Generally, everything that was touching my skin got transported along with me, wherever I was going. Back in college, we’d tried to use it to smuggle drugs but I guess Aphrodite didn’t approve of that sort of thing.
The room spun. I squeezed my eyes shut, crouching, bending my head down until my forehead pressed against my knees. Don’t throw up, I told myself. Don’t throw up.
If you’ve ever been teleported by a goddess, then you know how the middle part feels. If you haven’t, there isn’t much use trying to explain it to you.
When I opened my eyes, I was standing on the edge of a highway. Black asphalt bled into a stretch of grass dotted with wildflowers. Beyond that I could see a forest. It was spring, a 60 degree day, and my stomach was about ready to reject everything I’d eaten in the past 24 hours.
“I was just thinking about you,” a voice called.
I turned around.
Addie was sitting crisscrossed on the trunk of her silver Mini Cooper, cheerful as ever. She wore a pair of faded overalls and scuffed up sneakers. I hadn’t seen her in a couple weeks, but she looked healthy, brown skin almost glowing in the sunlight.
Of course we met like this. Her, looking like some kind of goddess, and me, fresh off a two hour car ride preceded by a three hour flight preceded by five hours of delays at the airport. “Hi,” I said, waving my hand with the Epi-Pen. “Car troubles?”
Addie nodded. “Did I wake you up?” Her eyebrows scrunched together in concern.
I shook my head, rubbing at my eyes a little. “Another ten minutes and you might have, though,” I said.
“I’m sorry, Zoey.”
“Don’t worry about it. You know, at least you didn’t catch me on the plane. Again.”
Addie laughed. Her laugh was best when you caught her off guard. “Yeah, yeah. Fix my car, Miss Mechanic.”
I had to pop the hood of the car, then, before I did something stupid.
I mean, it wasn’t like we were out of the question or anything. We’d dated for a couple weeks in tenth grade, unanimously decided that we weren’t quite ready to come out to any parents yet and put the whole thing on hold. Of course, then we’d gone off to different colleges and Addie had gotten a new girlfriend and that was the end of that. The only reason my weak romantic heart still held out hope was because after ten years and two other girlfriends, I’d been the only one to stay.
My *staying* might have been entirely the fault of some vicarious goddess, but the point still stood.
“You awake down there?” Addie called, from the driver’s seat.
I snapped to awareness. “I cleaned your spark plugs,” I told her. “Try starting it now.”
She pressed the key into the ignition, and the car hummed to life. “You are a *goddess*,” she cheered.
“You must be thinking of the crazy one up there,” I said, pointing up towards the sky.
Addie leaned out of the car window. She smiled at me, a slow, sweet thing. It made her look fifteen again. “If you have time, I’ve just downloaded all of Firefly onto my computer.”
I swallowed. “Thanks, but I should probably be heading back to Italy.” I couldn’t manage to meet her eyes.
“Zoey,” Addie said.
I looked at her, really looked at her. She was making her puppy dog face, the one she used to use in middle school to get me to bake cookies with her, or to let her braid my hair. I’d gotten much better at saying no to her these days, and considered refusing, but. She really did look like she wanted me to stay.
Well, maybe there was hope for my weak romantic heart yet.
“I have one condition,” I said. “No country music.”
Addie grinned. “Fine, you big buzzkill.”
So I got in the passenger seat of her silver Mini, car grease and fuzzy pajama pants and all. There was a moment of silence before Addie turned on the radio, and maybe I was imagining things but I’m pretty sure that somewhere very high up, a vicarious old lady was godly laughing. | I’ve always loved the very first moments of the day - That time when you’re only half-awake, and the warm softness of sleep is still heavy around your mind. You somehow have the sense that the world has narrowed to just you, and perhaps the vague imitation of reality found in your dreams. I didn’t think that it could get any better…and then I met Leanna.
She is the brilliant glimpse of a bright blue sky on a mostly rainy day, the pop of color in a completely gray canvas. She is the kindest person I’ve ever known, and filled with more passion than I knew was possible. Waking up next to her is the best feeling in the world, and I’m about to ask her to do that with me every day, for the rest of my life.
Sunlight filters through the window onto the bed, gently caressing the smooth curves of her skin. Blonde hair tumbles across her face, and she’s curled up against me, her head nestled on my chest. She sighs deeply and shifts, pressing her face against me. I feel my heartbeat speed up.
Trying hard not to wake her, I disengage one arm from her, and move closer to the bedside table. The box is right where I put it last night, after she’d fallen asleep.
“Leanna?” I don’t want to break this silence, the perfectness of this moment, but I can’t wait anymore. Her eyelids flutter open, and she meets my eyes. A sleepy smile spreads across her face.
“Good morning.” It’s still a treat to hear her say that in person, and to be able to see her face every night as I go to bed. Her smile brightens as she she sees my expression. “What is it? Did something happen with work?”
I shake my head. “No...No, it’s better than that.” I have to pause to collect myself. “Leanna...Ever since I met you, my life has been better than I ever imagined it could be.” Well, better than it’s been since I was fifteen. “I can’t imagine spending my life with anyone but you. You are everything I’ve always wanted. Leanna...Will you --”
Shit.
The familiar sensation of the world being ripped upside down, and turned inside out brought my words to a choking halt. Fuck. I’d thought that it was finally over, that I’d finally been set free. It’s been three years since the last time I saw her.
My vision goes black, just like it always does.
When I open my eyes, there’s just one word that goes through my head.
“Seriously??”
*********************
Part II
Although parts of her have changed - the childish softness of her cheeks, her once athletic build… her eyes remain the same. As dark as liquid coal, she regards me from under heavy eyelashes, her expression held in a cold pout. She’s alone, this time, which is a blessing. The number of times she’s “needed” me when surrounded by people has taught me to appreciate the small things.
I want nothing more than to sit up and murder her, but unfortunately, both the jump and the toll it takes on my body, as well as my “benefactress” (as she calls herself) won’t allow for it. So I settle for clenching my jaw and growling out an obscenity as I sit up.
“Emma...This had better be really fucking good.” I can barely get the words out. “Do you have any idea how bad your timing is this time?”
She wrinkles her nose and crosses her arms across her chest. “Can’t be any worse than that time--”
“What do you need, Emma?” I have to try - REALLY try - to keep myself from strangling her. “You’ve brought me here for every single fling that didn’t work out, every bad day at work, every single time your entitled ass needed to be comforted because of some issue your daddy won’t bail you out this time. I’ve fixed all of it. I thought I was finally free. It’s been fourteen years, Emma. This had better be DAMN worth it.”
Emma rolls her eyes and gives me a withering glare. “Not everything is about you, Michael. And anyway, we wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t said what you did all those years ago. What was it? ‘I’ll be here anytime you need me?’” She fixes me with a smug smile. “You certainly didn’t specify what kind of need I had to be in, and I told you when you dumped me that I didn’t have any intention of being out of your life.” She lifts her chin and smirks. “I just didn’t know how much help I’d have with that.”
I hate her like I’ve never hated anyone before. I hate the way she’s watching me - how she knows that I have no choice but to help her, or risk the wrath of the gods themselves. I hate knowing that it really was my words that put us into this position in the first place. But most of all, I hate that I’ll have to do this for the rest of my life, or hers. I’ll never have a normal life.
I’ll never be able to marry Leanna.
“No.”
It’s like my voice doesn’t even belong to me, like some ancient part of my brain has finally had enough. I feel like I’m listening to someone else talk as words tumble from my mouth.
“No. I’m not doing this again. This is over. It’s been over for fourteen years, and I’m done. I’m not doing this again. I’ve helped you to get over boyfriends that you hated while you were dating them, I’ve been there as every single friend you had left you because of the way you treated them, I’ve been there after every failed one night stand. It’s over, Emma. I’m not doing this anymore! I’m not doing this anymore!” Somehow, I’m standing, my voice is at a shout, and I’m eye to eye with the most irate ex-girlfriend I’ve ever seen. My breath comes in gasps. I can’t seem to stop shaking.
I half-expect her to murder me right there, but before she can do anything, a familiar sensation begins to fill every part of my body. My stomach twists. My vision goes fuzzy. My head spins violently, and I feel the hard surface of the floor beneath my knees. My stomach heaves. The world goes black.
The first moment of consciousness I have is as I feel myself falling forward as my stomach tries to empty itself with a dry heave. The next moment is punctuated by an undefined, but an absolute sense of confusion.
What the hell?
This has never happened before. Yes, I’ve gotten used to the insanity of the random leaps across the country, to Emma. And yes, I’ve gotten used to being called multiple times in a day, if somehow, Emma manages to screw up her life more than once in a day. But this? Something was different about this.
My vision is blurry as I peel my eyelids apart, but even so, it’s immediately obvious that I’m no longer in Emma’s studio apartment. Bright sunlight makes me squint, and the stuffy heat of her apartment has been replaced with a cool, gentle breeze. As my vision returns, I get a glimpse of another person hunched over next to me, throwing up.
Emma. But why?
I stumble to my feet, head reeling, trying not to retch again. “Wh….What the hell is the matter with you?” The breathlessness of my voice takes the bite out of my words. “I was already fucking there! You didn’t have to...to...” My voice trails off as I realize that, in all honesty, I have no idea what Emma can even do, and how much of all of it is her actively doing anything. But why else would we be here?
She turns to face me, long black hair sticking to sweaty cheeks, practically baring her teeth. “I didn’t do this, you idiot! Do you think I’d do this on purpose?”
I mean...yeah. Emma’s not really the type to self-inflict the torture that is being ripped from one place to another. But if she didn’t do this, then that must mean….
Shiiit. This is either really good….or reaallllly bad.
The hair on the back of my neck raises. My hands prickle. Adrenaline pumps through my blood. It’s been fourteen years - fourteen years since we’ve seen her, since she explained what happened.
I turn slowly, unsure what to expect. The same face from all those years ago is regarding me coolly, watching the two of us as we realize what’s happening. I swallow, fighting another, different kind of nausea.
“Hello...Aphrodite.” | 2017-03-22T16:13:24 | 2017-03-22T15:28:02 | 51 | 29 |
[WP] You join the military, you are placed in the gardeners program. You garden in exotic places where the military has done operations, each time they give special glasses and forbid spraying others. One day your glasses fall off and you see you are actually burning corpses with a flamethrower. | It all happened 40 years ago.
Deep into my early 60s my memory fades day by day. But, I'll never forget that moment 40 years ago.
That moment was when life turned to death, the sweet scents turned to carrion stenches, the hallucinated utopia turned to a burning reality and when my innocence turned to corruption.
They say forgive but never forget.
I did neither.
You know what I did?
You'll know soon enough.
They're coming.
I know it.
A knock on the door.
"Open up,' the man said,"it's the police."
Here they are. What took them so long? Do they know how 40 years even feel like? 40 years of pain, 40 years of sadness, 40 years of solitude and what else?
Oh! 40 years of flashbacks.
I wore my strong perfume over my turpentine drenched tuxedo and took my favorite lighter.
From how many years ago that lighter was from?
You guessed it!
40.
A pattern is emerging here. You see it right? They saw it too.
The knocks started to get stronger, then they became pounding, later on hammering, then it was bashing and suddenly it stopped.
I could hear a thump and knew they kicked it down.
3 in their blue uniform and all well dressed, as I am, for the death upon them.
"Magnus, you are under arrest for the murder of a number of people and for arson of dozens of houses more," the most senior of them proclaimed.
I took out my lighter.
"Sir, I demand you to drop that lighter and lay down on the ground with your hands on your head or you will force me to shoot."
Little did they know my house was filled with turpentine too.
"I am warning you sir."
I flicked open the weapon and aroused the flame.
"I'm going you one last chance sir."
You should've killed me earlier. | *From that day on, I knew what I was doing was a lie. A complete lie.*
"Not coming to dinner tonight, Jay?" Mata said as he put on his shoes, "Heard we are eating ribs tonight." Sickness coiled inside my stomach.
"I'll pass, a bit tired," I said, hiding myself under the blanket, attempting to find some sort of comfort. *All those people... To think I was the one doing this... What kind of a program is this? I want out.*
"Alright bud, good job today tho!" Mata smiled with a thumbs up. "We have gotten to spray lots of it today, can't wait for it to blossom." *If only he knew...*
About a couple of minutes later, silence echoed in the hall. I was finally alone. *This is my chance to talk to the director.*
I quickly wrote up a resignation letter, trying to think some sort of excuse that might quickly get me out of this hellhole.
"Come in," Director Apati said. The door creaked as I peeked inside, the military commander doing paperwork. "ID and state your purpose." He said without looking up.
"303661480 sir. And-" I took a deep breath and put the letter on the table. "I wish to resign."
He stopped midway, I felt my heart skipped a beat as he looked up at me with a serious look. I could feel him looking right through me.
"Mind if I ask why?"
"Um. Family back home is in a financial struggle, I wish to help them out."
"Despite getting paid more in the program than back at Rez?" He cocked an eyebrow, eyeing my suspiciously. *I messed up.* "Did you perhaps did something you shouldn't?"
"No sir. I have lots of siblings I need to take care of-" I stared at him, nervously trying to construct words off the top of my head until he finally held up his hands.
"Say no more son, I understand. There's a convoy that is heading back to command base, I'll let them know."
*Well that went unexpectedly well. Too well.*
----
The jeep roared through the night desert as all I could imagine were the dead that i I had burned. The moonlight shine above, offering a bit of comforting light.
"We're here." The officer said as he beckoned me to get off. I looked around, only to find sand dunes everywhere.
"What do you mean? There's nothing here-" I stopped immediately and stared at him. Sadness filled in his eyes. *And thats when I realized.*
He drew his gun slowly and pointed it at me. "No please, don't do it." I desperately said. *If I only had power. If I only knew beforehand. If I only could do something about it...*
I closed my eyes, waiting for death to come and that's when I heard a gunshot. **BANG.** I expected more pain, but perhaps I am already dead so I can't feel any.
But somehow I could still hear my heartbeat, thumping back and forth rapidly. I opened my eyes only to find the soldier had fallen on the ground, blood spilled everywhere as I slowly walked back, shocked and confused by what had happened.
The driver quickly got out of the car, pointing his gun at me. **BANG.** Seconds later, he dropped as well.
I looked around, trying to find my saviour. In the distance, I saw three figures slowly walking towards me. *This is bad. What if these are the enemies? Am I about to be captured?*
I heard another shot, this time to me. I feel myself getting more dizzy and hazy as I desperately try to hold onto the car for support. Then enemies got closer while I fell to the ground, unable to move with vision distorted.
I saw a figure standing above me, analyzing me.
"I see mercy and compassion in his eyes," A deep voice said, "I suspect he is being used."
"Why not just kill him?" Another voice said, cocking his gun. "We have no need for a pawn of the government."
"Quiet Wolf," The deep voice said disapprovingly, "We'll let the boss decide."
"Bring him," A feminine voice said in the distance, it was a voice of power and determination that automatically demands respect.
Before finally falling unconscious, the last thing I heard from the "boss" was something that sounded like...
*"Let's show him what the world really look like."* | 2017-06-20T03:39:12 | 2017-06-20T03:35:51 | 33 | 17 |
[WP] You are a demon hunter. Secretly, you've been possessed by a demon for your entire career. He is just eliminating the competition. His goal is almost complete. | It is tough letting someone control your body. At first I fought for control but then I asked myself what was the point. Here we were a couple of decades later and I was still the world's greatest demon hunter, just with hundreds of more kills. Six hundred and sixty three of the demons that existed on this world were sent back to hell, destroyed with the bodies that they inhabited. Only three remained.
My body was inhabited by one of the remaining ones, using me to destroy the competition in the ultimate demonic game. When the final two of his competitors were gone he would, according to the rules, absorb all of the destroyed demons souls and powers. He would rule this plane and the people here had no idea they were helping him in the guise of a demon hunter.
"Candazza, the second to last," he laughed as he explained to me, gloating as he was prone to do when he heard my thoughts buzzing behind him, "He has a gem that I want. It will help me locate that last of the demons, Dradazza. He is the hider in the dark, the shadow in the night, the master of deceit. I will finally find him and then I will rule."
With this he burst through the door, his crossbow bolt tipped with holy oil blessed by the local priest. Candazza was caught and startled. The small girl's form it inhabited knew the game was up so crab-crawled backward up the wall, not bothering to hide its powers.
The crossbow twanged and the demon possessed girl jumped to dodge, the second smaller crossbow hidden in my possessor's sleeve fired. He had led Candazza right in the direction he wanted and the demon's eyes went wide as he felt the crossbow pierce his heart. The small girl and the demon possessing her fell the earth.
"One more," he giggled and reloaded the crossbows, "One more. One more." There was a hint of madness in his voice. My body reached down and he looked in the girl's pockets then pulled out the gem. "Show me where he is!" he said, rubbing the gem, "Show me! Show me! Show me!" It showed him and his eyes went wide.
I pushed him out with all of my might at that moment. I had never really shown him the strength of my will. He screamed in terror, part at what he had seen, and part at what he knew was coming and was now unable to stop.
After twenty years I had control of my body. Well, the person's body I had possessed right before the spirit I had just pushed out had. The crossbow bolt cut through his heart as I pulled the trigger and he dissipated with a scream.
"I am Dradazza," I whispered to the night as the power of the six-hundred sixty-six filled me, "Master of deceit. This world is mine." |
My father had sworn his soul, when I was a child. He told me one night, years ago, after a few too many glasses of scotch. He was a tactless and arrogant man, and I had always wondered how he’d come from poverty to luxury with so little actual skill. He admitted freely that him and I had little in common, and that I was much more akin to my mother, “always a reminder of her.”
Sometimes I think he resented that fact more than he reveled in it. After opening up that night about his sin, he took me to a meeting soon after, of men like him, sworn souls.
It was pathetic.
These lazy men attracted unimpressive demons. Bottom feeders, who were only so powerful, but that was no problem, for these simple men had simple wants. Money, power, women. Any meager demon could appease them, I knew only what my father had told me of the occult, but at the time, I could already tell.
They disgusted me.
Except one. One man shadowed in the corner of the dim bar. Well groomed beard, salt and pepper hair, tailored clothes.
I could tell immediately that he didn’t belong, just by the way held himself. I went through the motions of my fathers introductions, and quickly made my way towards him.
“May I have this seat?” I asked, looking into his clear steely eyes. A relief from the cloudy eyes of the drunkards my father called friends.
“Go ahead.” He gestured toward the seat, and motioned the bartender over.
“What’s your drink of choice?” He looks to me as the bartender arrives.
“Jack and coke typically” I responded.
He looks to the bartender “make it two please”
As the barman heads to make our drinks I unintentionally let what was bothering me slip from my mouth.
“You don’t belong here.”
I know I could’ve worded it better, a fact made more obvious as silence greeted me for a moment, but he looked at me, bemused.
“Neither do you... But you’re not wrong.” He smiles, warm but unnerving. “You’re not sworn... Yet something tells me you want to change that. But not out of greed, not out of envy, no... there’s something else, isn’t there?” The bartender arrives with our drinks, I slowly sip mine, pondering what to say next. I decide to keep my intentions to myself, and change the topic. “Why are you different from these men?”
“That’s easy, different men, different desires, different demons. Too many will settle for the first demon that tempts them, thinking there’s no other options. But honestly, most these men here couldn’t get much better than what they have. Their lives worthless, their souls meager, no demon with any true power is going to cater to them.”
We look at the men surrounding us, figures of false authority. Men with power but no control. The disdain in his eyes fades when he looks back to me.
“But besides not being sworn, there is something else that sets you apart. Within you, I see fire.”
I’m almost ashamed to say how good it felt to be recognized. He downs the rest of his drink and stands, reaching into his coat pocket.
“Take this, and good luck on your journey.” He slides an small leather notebook toward me. He quickly leaves, and I thought that I might never see him again.
With the help from the journal, I had met a demon shortly after that night. The ritual had summoned a powerful one, and we had mutual disdain for the bottom feeders. The scum of our societies. Humans and demons feeding off each other, and because it was easy, they had no desire for bigger battles.
But I did.
I waged a war, because they were too proud to call it a massacre.
Now here I stand, before the very man who had bought me that drink, and showed me the beginning of my path.
His salt and pepper hair was much more gray than when I saw it last. He did not hold himself with the same confidence.
I had thought him impressive, but all he was, was merely a big fish in a little pond. It’s so easy to shine among the dull. Too easy.
“I heard about you, you know? You’ve actually got quite the name for yourself, even if there’s not much of us left to gossip.” He jokes. He’s nervous. It feels good to have the upper hand. To feel calm.
The darkness crowds the edge of my vision. As it always has, sitting, waiting, until I give in. It used to not wait, when I was younger, impulsive, I didn’t mind back then. But having control makes us more powerful. He has always been impatient, I feel him now, whispering in my ear, just barely audible.
Do it. Do it now. End him.
Do it. Do it now. End him.
Do it. Do it now. End him.
The darkness has grown stronger, but so have I.
I have never seen the grey haired man’s demon before. Back then I could not see everything as it truly was. The demon beside him is bristled, ready to fight for his life.
At least he’ll make it interesting.
But not nearly as impressive as I had once thought.
“I’m sorry old friend. But I’m sure you understand.”
(Sorry for formatting! On mobile!) | 2018-10-18T10:37:40 | 2018-10-18T04:55:37 | 34 | 15 |
[WP] You are a princess that owns a pet dragon. You are getting tired of constantly having to defend your pet against knights attempting to "slay the dragon and rescue the princess". | The Princess noticed the knight's glistening armor long before he reached the keep. She walked down the stairs and into the courtyard to greet him, as she had done with so many before.
"Sir knight," she exclaimed, "present yourself."
The knight dismounted, drew his blade and knelt before The Princess, offering his steel in service. "I am Sir Peta, here to end the misery of the dragon."
Misery? That's a new one, thought The Princess. "Has word not reached the stronghold? I have no need for your services."
*So it's true,* Sir Peta muttered under his breath. Then louder, "My apologies, my lady. I am not from the stronghold."
"Too many knights have come here in their noble stupidity, determined to slay the dragon and rescue me from its 'misery,' as you so oddly put it. Are you all idiots," The Princess asked? "Do you really believe I could live in this keep for years, with a dragon in the tower, if the situation is as you all believe it? Do you know nothing of dragons?"
Sir Peta rose, sword at his side, and spoke. "I know quite a lot about dragons, in fact. I know they are intelligent, noble beasts that are fiercely territorial," he replied. "No doubt it is as you say, my lady. If the dragon was able to bring harm to you, it surely would've done so by now."
This exasperated The Princess. "Then why, clever Sir Peta, did you come here to rescue me?"
"You misunderstand, dear Princess." She felt the tip of his cold steel, and something else - nightshade, perhaps - before he had finished the sentence."I am not here to rescue *you*."
With one more upward thrust, the job was done. He felt a blast of air as the dragon arrived and perched on the wall. It looked down on the scene. Sir Peta dropped to a knee.
"The binding spell is broken, friend," spoke the knight. "Be free." With that, the dragon alighted into the sky. Within seconds it was a mere speck in the distance, no bigger than a crow.
Sir Peta cleaned his blade and called his mount. There was talk of a duke that kept a caged chimera to impress the other nobility. The knight's work was never done.
- - - - - - - - - -
*edit: mobile formatting* | The ancient tower of rock stood as a monument of ancient times, old home of the Scourge M’Thalia, supposed resting place of a living dragon. As opposed to a dead one. This room was boring. The only object of significance was the Old Throne, abandoned here as the True Throne sat in the Castle of M’Thias, the brother of the figure sitting on the throne here, who emitted a sense of boredom on her face.
“Bored.”
She was bored.
It wasn’t anybody’s fault, she just decided that the whole “I’m a princess captured by this dragon” joke went too far. Everybody knew that G’Lathia had a pet dragon, right?
“WHERE IS THE FIEND?!” echoed a voice, the voice of an inexperienced man.
Oh. Yeah, some people thought it was serious. It wasn’t even a good fight between whoever came and Dral, since the only people who didn’t realise she had a pet dragon were people who hadn’t been knights for long. Something about potential war with the Southern Isles or whatever, she didn’t care.
A man barged through the doors, shiny armour new to the world of reality, demanding to fight a dragon.
“I would slay this fiend for thee and gain your hand in marriage, your magnificence is beyond me. Your eyes are like an ocean, and you are-.”
“She’s not here. Out getting something for me. Besides, why would I marry you? Do you have any land of your own?”
“I don’t under-”
“Do you have money? Power?”
“That’s wh-”
“Are you a powerful mage who can teach me better magic?”
“Why would I be a-”
“Has M’Thias finally met his threat and sent someone to take care of me while he does his ruling thing to ensure I don’t mess with him?”
“No I’m here to slay the monster keeping you trapped here? What are you-”
“Do I look trapped? Could I just walk out of this castle and remain unharmed?”
“You’re a princess. You will be saved from the dragon, whether you like it or not.”
“Now you listen carefully, boy.” She said, standing at the open hole in the wall, probably from when the Frost Cyclops wanted a bite of the kingdom, making small hand movements, that the noble knight couldn’t see, that forged a simple spell that shot away. “I am not some innocent damsel who needs saving just because I am a princess. Do you even know my name?”
“You are… er.” The Knight hesitated for a moment, attempting to put a coherant thought together with such a person in front of him. God, she was angry. And why was the wind picking up?
“I am G’Lathia Moonspeaker, Princess of the Nine Realms, witness of the Battle of Greesha Moole, Leader of the Drakonian Tribe, Governor of T’Yall, Mother of Dragons,” She stepped back, out of the tower and fell down the side of the castle.
The unknowing knight rushed down to the hole in the wall, and peered down.
“AND YOU DO NOT PISS OFF THE MOTHER OF DRAGONS.” G’Lathia roared as she rose, standing proudly on the Dragon that swooped down, the apparent keeper of the Princess, red-eyed creature of greed and hunger, scales shining in the sun, and alive. The creature’s throat burned a searing white heat as it shot a breath of fire at the intruder before firing itself away from the tower.
And then the dragon returned.
“And my eyes are green. Either you were a peasant who wasn’t taught colours right, your incompetence reaches beyond your senses, or you were so distracted with the thoughts of a beautiful princess in your arms calling you her saviour or whatthefuckever to notice things like the colour of a person’s eyes.”
Then the dragon left, leaving the man bewildered.
“M’Klaa’s going to kill me for this.” he muttered.
----
*Why did you do that again? Do you need the mind mage to fix you again, because I will send you back to him.*
“It was cool! Jumping out and getting picked up by a dragon, meant to put an appearance. Hopefully he’ll spread the message to not try to save me. You could have been faster. Nearly died there!”
*You could have been faster with that magic signal! Let me guess, another Knight wanting to kill me to save you from the horror of the only thing that looked after her for the past month.*
“Yeah. Maybe I shouldn’t live in the abandoned tower with all that gold. Maybe we should move.”
*No no i like it there please don’t move i’ll do anything please let me sleep on the lovely gold.*
“I’m joking! I wouldn’t move from that place. But I do need to make myself known to everyone… Make it clear I don’t need saving from my own pet.”
G’Lathia thought for a moment.
“Dral, change of plan. Take me close to a nearby city, and wait for my signal.”
| 2019-01-09T13:25:46 | 2019-01-09T12:44:06 | 37 | 13 |
[WP]There is a legend of demons that cannot be bound or banished, that laugh at salt and holy water, for these demons were not born of hell. The were actually born of mother Gaia, yet choose destruction of their own free will. Such horror may be hard to fathom, but I tell you, humans are real. | First, there came the gods. Immortal, domineering, beautiful--they ruled over their domains, up high and above, observing all that went on within them.
Then, there came the demons. Immoral, deceitful, corrupted--they crawled in the bowels of Mother Gaia, sometimes clawing through her surface and running amok in all that was divine.
And then, there were the humans.
What were they? Who were they?
Some say the gods created them in their image. But why would the gods allow little versions of themselves to terrorize their kingdoms, threatening to turn each territory into godless realms?
Some say Mother Gaia gave birth to them, allowing them sustenance from her very self. But look at what these unfilial sons and daughters do to her, and pray tell--could a child treat their mother like so?
Some say they were the demons, enhanced and glorified. That they learned to take another form, and to reproduce themselves unlike any other race on Earth. But how could they survive the cycles of day and night, of faith and mistrust, and laugh in the face of what easily conquered any other dark being?
What we know is that a person is weak. People are mighty. They overrun land like the tides themselves, consuming resources like light cutting into darkness. The weak are inevitably crushed underneath the mighty machine of the human race, and the strong use their power in near senseless pursuits.
Surely, Mother Gaia would have put an end to her spoiled children? But no, for she is a mother trapped in her unconditional love, unable to stop giving until there would be no more to give.
But the humans, they know. They have prepared.
For they look to the stars, and see plenty of parents ripe for adoption.
---
r/dexdrafts | My head was hurting. Not just hurting, burning.
It started like the flame of a lit match and seemed to have turned into a forest fire. I found myself clawing at my head and cowering in the corner of the club. I had tried to make it to the door but I couldn’t keep my eyes open long enough to find it. So I crawled into this corner to escape the flickering lights and thumping music that seemed determined to crack my head open.
The pain seemed only to grow. It split through my head and I could feel it in my toes.
I found myself screaming, asking for death.
Just as my tears began to fall, the pain seemed to stop.
I fell to the ground, limp, exhausted. No amount of grunting seemed enough to will my body off the ground. But I kept trying, desperate to get up, to move, to somewhere. Where? I did not know.
Until I began to hear them, the screams.
They called to me, begged me to save them.
And I wanted to with all my being.
Maybe it was that desperation that pushed me off the ground and it the crowd.
I dragged myself forward, squinting, feet barely leaving the floor, as I made my way to the deepest darkest corner of the room.
With every step the screams grew louder, I stumbled less, and I
I was almost there I could feel their lips on my ears screaming at me save them, then I felt warm hands grab hold of me and my body jerk
as it was pulled away from the screams that grew more desperate as they faded.
Then it all went dark.
"Buffy wake up!"
My eyes opened to reveal a face so beautiful, I knew I must have died.
He smiled at me and I felt something pleasant wash over. Peace.
This must be heaven.
"How did I die?"
"Die?" He asked eyebrows furrowed. " You are not dead, you have been reborn"
"Leaving your mundane human existence and been reborn into the world beneath can take a toll but the doctors assured me that your body is fine.”
I am not dead. So this is not heaven. I have been reborn, whatever that means.
”What do you mean reborn?”
”Umm. You have been changed...a little. You can see more than you used to, do more than you used to. It is hard to explain but over the next few days, you will start to understand.
Changed, reborn, could he be more vague?
“How do you feel?”
“I feel...fine” I let out as my eyes take in the hospital room around me and the wires connecting me to the beeping machines. Beeping that seemed not to stop just like the screams.
“Did you save them too? Were they also...reborn?” I asked,
“What screams”
“In the club, they were calling to me before I got dragged away”
“Ah, the demon. You were being drawn to him by the souls in his pouch. He carries the souls of those he has killed with him. I imagine you heard them beg for help, beginning to be released to be given rest. He has been dispatched, and the souls released “
“Dispatched, you mean killed like with holy water and a cross, like in the movies?”
“Holy water and cross, dead, I wish. It would be nice not to fight so hard. He was defeated with a sword and he isn’t dead. He has only returned to the earth. He will probably turn up again, killing to build his collection of souls back up again.”
All I could do was stare back at him. The souls of the dead were calling to me. Me? I was nothing like the muscular, tall man sitting across from me. My tiny arms couldn’t lift a sword. Had they really expected me to slay a demon and save them?
Why had they called me?
What had happened to me?
I opened my mouth to ask him but the words did not seem to come out.
“I am going to leave you to rest now, you have been through a lot. I will be back in a few hours to answer every one of your questions” He said, getting up to leave me with my thoughts.
What scary thoughts they were. | 2020-10-23T01:32:45 | 2020-10-23T01:20:43 | 418 | 37 |
[WP] Everyone is assigned a guardian angel since birth, yours has always protected you albeit in violent and menacing ways. Until one day on your 18th birthday he reveals himself as a demon who was wrongly assigned as a guardian angel and became attached to you. | I was confused as I saw my friends and family around me, frozen in time, cheers and song still on their lips. Even the smoke from the candle I had just blown out was still hanging in the air. But nothing was more of a surprise then the husk like being with nine horns and branch like limbs in the chair across from me.
"What-" The being put a creaking finger up. That noise sent a chill up my spine.
"You were expecting an angel. I used to be, centuries ago. I guess, somehow I was still in the register when you were born." That voice sounded like wind blowing from the black hole of a face, the glowing eyes somehow not filled with hate. "I would be surprised if I were you, too."
"Why did-"
"Why did I stick around?" It made a noise like a scoff. "I tried to eat you as a child. But you laughed at me. Not a hint of fear in your innocent eyes. I saw their plans for you, I told myself I would turn you into the antichrist and ruin their plans for you. I knew I was lying to myself even then." It laughed, crackling and bitter. "I saw that you were meant to die at the age of twelve for one of their... sacrifices." Thunder sounded and purple lighting ran across their face. It shook its head in disgust. It looked back at me.
"I should have known. The car when I was ten." It nodded. "It blew up, that guy nearly died." My voice shook.
"He was trying to kill you. His guardian angel was... failing him." It mumbled.
"The plates when I was three?" My voice was getting more confident.
"The shelf broke and the plates were going to land on you, I had to throw them across the room so they would miss you."
"And when my appendix burst?" It's fingers writhed as it hesitated with the answer.
"The restaurant you were going to that night had peanuts in the food, even though they lied and said they no longer served them. Your epi-pen was in the wrong bag, the blue one that you left at your friend's house the week before." I leaned back in my seat, amazed and confused.
"But... why? Why didn't you tell an angel? Or turn me to-" My voice was starting to rise.
"To the evil side?" It scoffed again. "You're not that special. And I'm not going to die by talking to those traitors. Did you want me to kill you now?" It snapped at me. I recoiled and it's glare softened. "My job is to punish the wicked, and I thwarted my siblings at every turn. Don't start being ungrateful now. You aren't special to them, just the right circumstance of birth and nothing more."
I rubbed my face and it tapped it's fingers on it's thigh.
"You're right." I finally said. "I'm sorry. You did protect me and I am grateful, even if it scared me. Fires tend to do that to a child. Got me out of that final though." I laughed awkwardly and so did the demon. "But I think you are lying to yourself when you say I'm not important to anyone." It stared at me, waiting for me to finish my sentence. "You are kind. To me. You love me. And even when I was scared and confused, even when others were afraid of me, I knew you cared. I've wished my entire life to understand you... and now I do." I grabbed the knife and cut a piece of the cake, handing it to the demon on a birthday plate. "Happy Anniversary."
It sat, staring at the plate for a long moment before it disappeared and life resumed. Frozen cheers and the final awful notes of 'Happy Birthday' rang out at last.
"To yooooou!" My family clapped and mom reached for the knife but it was already in my hands.
"What happened to the cake?" She asked as her smile twitched in concern and confusion.
"Nothing, Mom. Let's eat." I smiled. We cut up the rest of the cake for everyone to eat. From the corner of my eye, a small intricate box box sat near the other presents at the table. A symbol was carved into it that others may have mistaken for a sun, but what I knew was actually a nine horned figure.
Edit: Since this has been requested to be expanded upon, I am attempting to move this to a more story based subredit if I can. NoSleep was a bust. | Avery entered adulthood with a knife in her hand, slicing through icing and layers of chocolate cake, surrounded by banners and balloon and boxes of presents, and all the people who loved her most. She hadn’t expected her angel to be holding one too.
Ariel hung, translucent, on the edges of her sight, her body not yet made manifest. The knife in her hand wasn’t either, though the runes that scored its polished steel showed that it could be. Its blade was black, the runes standing out in an impossibly vibrant scarlet, its handle was quite clearly made of a human leg bone.
The cake was good, but not good enough to distract from that.
“Happy birthday honey!” her mom said, hugging her tightly. A few of the closest relatives echoed it, like the call and responses they always sang in church. Avery wondered if their angel’s had carried blades like that at their eighteenth birthdays.
Ariel did not move as the day wore on and the relatives filed out. Their own angels would be trailing them, invisible to all save for their charges. They would be following close behind as angels were meant to, as Ariel herself normally did, a shadow and a best friend wrapped up in one, encased in a thin white dress and porcelain skin, dark hair like the finest silk and eyes that defied jet for its title.
She didn’t move at all until everyone had left, until even Avery’s parents had kissed her good night and left the living room behind to stagger wearily up the stairs to their bedroom. The two girls, human and angel, stared at each other until finally Avery grabbed the last piece of cake, walked straight up to her best friend, and said “Hey stranger, want one?”
Her only answer was a long, shaking breath as Ariel willed herself corporeal. “I don’t deserve it,” she said.
Avery smacked her on the forehead with an open palm, the dull thwack of its impact made her want to laugh despite the strangeness of the situation. “Sure you do. Now what the hell is up with the knife?”
Ariel’s laughed bitterly. She hefted the blade once, staring at the knife as if she’d forgotten she held it. “I didn’t want to ruin your birthday, but it turns out that I can’t just put this thing down. And I can’t get too far away from you either. Avery, the better question is what the hell isn’t up with this knife.”
“OK, then I’ll cut straight to the most important one. Can you cut cake with it or do you need a fork?”
The sound Ariel made wasn’t quite a laugh. It wasn’t quite crying either, though it was something akin to both, as if someone had distilled the most fragile elements of each and mated them to a shriek. Ariel took the cake but did not move to eat it.
“Woah, woah, Ariel, what’s up?” Avery asked. “You’re gonna freak mom and dad out, hell you’re freaking me out!”
“They cannot hear,” Ariel whispered, “I bewitched their last drinks. They’ll sleep deeper than they ever have.”
“You what?”
“Avery, I’ve lied to you.”
The knife rose and the cake fell, and Avery’s heart was somewhere in between, still trying to figure out how to parse her friend’s words as the plate shattered against the ground.
Avery felt a sharp impact jar through her body from behind and suddenly she was falling, falling towards Avery who caught and discarded her in a single motion to leap past on unfurled wings and stab the knife forward, sinking it deep into flesh.
A man’s guttural scream tore through the room, no, not a man’s, Avery thought, but a demon’s.
The creature tore at Avery’s skin and dress with its long, viciously curved claws, striping her pale skin with lines blood. But the knife rose and fell, rose and fell, the action partially obscured by four sets of scaly wings that writhed and shook and pounded against each other.
Four sets. It was the first time Avery had ever seen Ariel’s wings.
She’d asked to see them of course, many times, in many places, with all the pleading and sad dog eyes a child could muster. None of it had ever done her any good, and now that she had seen them, Avery wished nothing more than that she hadn’t.
The fight ended as swiftly began, with a death rattle carried on a forked tongue. Ariel stood without her knife, she’d left implanted it in the dead demon’s chest. The bone handle vibrated, emitting a strange sucking noise as all the blood on the body and floor began slowly pulling back towards it.
Avery couldn’t help herself. She reached out, trailing a finger across the rough scales and leathery membranes of Ariel’s wings. Her best friend shivered, pulling her wings tighter around herself to conceal tatters of her ruined dress.
“I lied to you,” Ariel said.
“I can see that,” Avery said. “Hell of a long time to keep it up.”
“Demon’s are patient creatures, we lie as easily as breathing.”
Avery nodded, turning away. “And who was he?” she asked.
“I don’t know his name, but I recognize his tattoos. He’s an assassin, like me.”
“If you’re an assassin, I think you’re pretty bad at it.”
“How are you taking this—”
Ariel turned, her voice rising into a shout, and was stunned to silence. Avery held the remains of the cake in her bare hands, a piece stretched out to her. There was a hair on top of the icing, perhaps Avery’s own, perhaps one of the cats’, and the piece was lopsided, a whole layer missing, ruined beyond a shadow of doubt.
Avery pressed it to her friend’s stony lips all the same. “Was he here for me?”
Ariel nodded, smearing the icing across her lips. “Then you saved my life, that deserves cake.”
“How are you—”
Avery shoved the piece into her friend’s open mouth. Ariel gagged, the mental urge to spit out warring with bodies desperate desire for calories, any calories, as her wounds closed on their own. Avery stared her down until she swallowed, and then readied another cake fragment in her hand.
“Are we in immediate danger?” Avery asked.
“No.”
“Are my parents?”
“No.”
“Were you sent here to kill me?”
“Yes.”
“Shit.”
The moment stretched out awkwardly. The demonic assassin’s body caught fire, dissolving and leaving a dark smudge on the hardwood floor.
“Are you still my best friend?” Avery whispered.
“Always.”
“OK,” Avery muttered, “OK! Then you’re gonna finish this goddamn cake, I’m gonna steel a few dad’s beers because he’s gonna stay asleep, right? And then you’re gonna tell me all about it. Deal?”
“Dea—”
Ariel’s words were drowned in another forced morsel of cake.
“Oh shit!” Avery said as she scurried off, “hell with the beer, Dad has whiskey!”
r/TurningtoWords | 2021-05-23T15:52:49 | 2021-05-23T15:05:16 | 1,240 | 201 |
[WP] Adolf Hitler is a time traveler who starts world war two to save us from something far more terrible. | I was born in April 20, 1889. But I was conceived in August 5, 2527.
You can't zap a person back in time when he's destined to become one of the most infamous murderer of all time, people will learn study up on his past, why he became like that, why would anyone want to be this way?
I had no choice. I was sent as a sperm, just one. But they knew it would be enough.
I shall prevent the destruction of the human race by killing 2.5% of the worlds population.
I know what I have to become, it is instinct. I tried to fight it, I took up painting, I painted houses. Now I will paint crosses on maps where the bombs will drop. *They* intervened before any damage was done and now I stand here, in front of the Beer Hall. There will be no turning back.
Sometimes I wonder if I am simply insane, trying to justify what I must do.
I will create a movement based on hatred, on fear, on racism and anger. I will assign the worst people that existed in the world to my sides to plot better, more efficient ways to destroy. I shall become an artist, an artist of death, Europe will become my canvas and metal and blood will be my oils!
I will kill 5.5 million jews, I will remember every single one of their names. Burned into my memory forever. I will make the world cry: "No more!" so that when the time comes, when the new race evolves.
Some would say: "Not again." | Jesus this is brilliant!
What if Adolf's life was a misery.. he, his family and his culture were under huge oppression from the Wasserman rule. By the year 2314 they controlled the media as far as the US - this one family dictated more than the Roman Empire ever dreamed of.. without breaking borders. It was all about doing business, and doing it well. A few million here and there would ensure that a town worked for the Wassermans.
In Adolfs youth he slaved for the Saunders, a wealthy jewish family who were personal friends of the Wassermans. Washing their cars, cooking their meals and walking their pets. He earned no living, but instead was paid in food (which was mostly passed on, to his family).
Cut a long story short, he has the ~~house~~ mansion to himself one day and decides to wander around. He had never been in the discretionary side of the place, since he only really went from the front door, to the kitchen and back.
In a side room, displayed with spotlights around it, was a gleaming structure. It looked like a portaloo, that had been through 'Pimp My Space-Ride'.
He cautiously grabbed the door handle and it popped open with a satisfying spring. For some reason, cheesy dry ice smoke was pouring out of the capsule.
Above the structure, Adolf could make out the words "Time Machine". He could barely read, so it took a minute. It instantly hit him.. this was one of the legendary time machines that the Jewish people had boasted about.
His mind jumps to a million things at once, but it doesn't take long before he lands on the jackpot. He wants to end the Wasserman's rule over the world. They owned every damn government and ever damn business he could think of. He couldn't just skip forward in time and leave his family behind though.. besides, what if things got worse?
If he went back, he'd have to plan it carefully. He couldn't just go back and wave his arms about screaming "They're going to rule us all!" like a mad man on the street.
It struck him that he should go back to a time, in which the Jewish people were less than popular. When the innocent and the horrible were all bordering on second class citizens simply for being Jewish. He recalled the Saunders mentioning such a time, on many an occasion. They would curse anybody who was against them, even if they were long dead. Adolf was very sure that it was just before the millenium, definitely before the internet came along and created a level playing field.
So on more of a hunch than a real shot, he turned the dial back to 1900. It seemed like a safe bet, and either way he was getting out of here.
Sure enough, he arrives in a desolate era in Germany. He enlists in the army to gain some sort of identity without skills.
Before too long though, after the First World War, he sought after politics. He began rallying the citizens of Germany behind him, using simple and common knowledge about psychology from the 2300s. Using the turning around of the financial depression, Adolf Hitler became a hit among the right wing germans.
Then.. he set on his real plan. He didn't know who to get rid of first! There must've been millions of Jewish people in and around Germany that could be the great grandfathers of the Wassermans. He knew though, that if he succeeded, then he wouldn't exist in the 1900s anymore, since the time machine wouldn't exist.
After tactfully murdering numerous families, he felt that time was running out. It was now or never.. and as such, the final solution came to be.
Adolf Hitler did not kill so many innocent people out of hatred for them, but love for a better future. One day, at the very end of it all, a true descendant of the Wasserman family was put to rest. Adolf was no more, and nor was the regime that he stopped.
He wasn't to be remembered as a hero, only a vicious villain.
*****
None of this is to say that what happened during WWII was actually an act of heroship and that Hitler wasn't out of his mind. | 2014-03-02T16:08:50 | 2014-03-02T15:40:41 | 794 | 16 |
[WP] While at the airport, you Google your flight's number...only to find news articles published an hour from now detailing its crash. | *Details of the crash are still coming in, though it's believed that weather difficulties combined with pilot error have led to the plane crashing off the coast of the Sea of Japan. At this time there is no further information, though sources are telling us...*
The woman on the television screen speaks into a microphone. Behind her is a green screen that displays footage of the wreckage. I'm looking at it, and at the bottom of the screen typed in all caps is FLIGHT FR342.
I look down at my ticket. *Hastings, Amelia C. FL. FR342. Dep. 07:40.*
The clock on the television says that it's 6:40 in the morning. I look toward the gate. FLIGHT FR 342 - NRT TO CDG - Boarding time 6:50.
I reach my hands up to my eyes to rub them and look back at the television screen.
*...reports that there were six Americans on board including two infants. The majority of the passengers were French citizens, though there were 28 Germans and 46 Japanese passengers on board. The captain, Charles Colltrant, has over...*
I put my face down into my hands and look back at the screen and then my boarding pass and then the flight agents. People are standing in a U shape around the gate agent, waiting for her to start to call their names.
*This can't be happening,* I think. *I must be losing my mind. Or dreaming. Or delusional.*
"Might be," a voice next to me says. I look over to see a man sitting at my side. He's tall and slim, his hair pulled back at the edges from age. The scalp that I can see is smooth and tanned in direct contrast to his wrinkled eyes.
"Sorry?" the words are almost automatic.
"You might be delusional."
*I said that out loud?*
"No, you didn't," he says.
*I'm dreaming.*
"No, you aren't," he says.
I blink at him. The gate agent is making an announcement for their priority boarders.
"You have a choice, Amelia," the man says. I want to ask him how he knows my name but my focus is split between him and the gate agent and the blonde woman on the television. I move my hand to cover my boarding pass, but the man's eyes haven't left mine. "You know what happens now."
"What happens now?"
"If that flight takes off."
"I don't know what's going on," I say. "I don't know who you are. I don't know where I am. I don't know what the time is. Is it boarding? Am I on a plane? Am I crashed?"
People are looking at me. They don't seem to see the man.
"They're all going to die, Amelia."
*...US Navy ships have been dispatched to the area. Hospitals in Tokyo and Seoul are on standby for any survivors who might be found, though water temperatures...*
"Why can't they see this?" I ask. I motion to the television. "Why can't they see her talking?"
"Why can you see it?" the man asks. "Why aren't you stopping it?"
"How do I stop it?" there's an edge to my voice. "Tell me how to stop it. Tell me how to make it better. Please. Please, just tell me what's going on!"
People are looking at me now. The gate agent has paused her announcement. Nearby a mother is herding her child close to her legs. I focus my attention on the television.
*...what's not suspected as a terrorist attack, though some jihadist groups are already claiming responsibility. The flight, to recap, last made contact with air traffic control thirty minutes after take-off. A distress signal...*
"Is she okay?" a voice near me says. I look up to try and find who they're talking about, but all I see are eyes on me. Instinctively I pull my passport closer to me. The man sitting next to me whistles.
"Now or never, Amelia. Are you going to save them?"
*The plane is going to crash,* I think.
"You have to be louder," the man says.
"The plane is going to crash," I whisper.
"Come on, now. Save them. Do it, Amelia."
"The plane is going to crash," I say a little louder. There's a murmuring in the crowd. People are looking at me. The man has his hand on my shoulder and is pushing me to stand up. The woman on the television is still talking, still droning on. I don't know how she can still be talking after all this time, and why so many people are looking at me but the man says, "louder" and I say, "The plane is going to crash!" and people are exchanging glances and the man tells me *louder* and I do, I say it louder and people are gathering and I can't hear the sound of the television anymore, I can't hear any sound except for my own voice and the man telling me that I can save them, that only I can save them, that I have to save them. | "Well, looks like I'm not flying today. Fuck that." Isaac muttered to himself as he reread the articles for the umpteenth time. It really rattled him to think about. They described the plane, the flight, and the charter down to a T.
Still, he didn't want to leave. He had to fix this somehow.... But he wasn't getting on the plane. That was for damn sure. Whatever freak occurrence this was, Isaac wanted to use it for all it's worth. He eyed the terminal around him for a moment, letting the sinking feeling in his gut marinate for a moment.
They said it happened not 5 minutes after take-off. The plane had some catastrophic failure, lost a engine, then all hydraulic function. It ended up slamming into some disused steel mill maybe 10 miles out from the airport. A total loss; 235 people. No one made it out.
Sitting over coffee now, Isaac had come to the conclusion. Somebody had to know about this. Somebody... But what if they didn't? What if he was the only one who knew? If so, why did it have to be him. He was just an average man, nothing but your average process server, complete with all the self-loathing and boredom you could imagine. Being this his only off week in quite some while, it was only compounded by the terrifying news he read when he googled the flight number on a whim.
Should he tell security? He pondered on this as he glanced back towards the quagmire that was the security checkpoint. Isaac dismissed the idea due to hindsight. If he was the only one who knew, and they didn't believe him, who's to say they wouldn't pin the whole thing on him? And even if they *did* believe him, they probably would pin the whole thing on him, and then things would get even worse for him. He knew what the TSA did to people on a slow day, and "avoiding a cavity search" was still on his list of things to live for.
What if he told the victims though? Before they got on the plane? Maybe convince them that a bad accident was going to occur. Not that they would believe him. Even worse, they'd turn around, and think he was responsible for something done to the aircraft too. And before he knew it, they have him shipped off to Gitmo or some hellhole just as bad, faster than he could imagine. Isaac sipped some coffee as he imagined being waterboarded in a dungeon somewhere....
Jesus, this is awful. What could he do? Maybe if he placed a anonymous call to the airport security claiming that a disaster was coming. That would've worked if pay phones still existed. They'd track the call, and that'd be it. He was about to give up entirely as he saw her. A woman he'd met in the check-in line. She was a single mother, her two kids trailing behind her. She'd chatted with him while they'd stood in line with one another. Her kids couldn't wait to see grandma in Tampa, he remembered.
Oh God. They couldn't go through that. Not like that. Isaac planned as he finished his coffee. He may not be able to save everyone; but these folks didn't deserve such an awful end. Her kids had their whole lives ahead of them still. He walked towards them in a friendly gesture.
"Hey there miss." Isaac smiled as he intercepted her.
"Uhh, hey there again." The woman hesitantly smiled, "Are you waiting on the flight here too."
"Yeah..." Isaac paused, "I heard we're going to be here for a while though." He felt bad as he began to concoct a story to tell off the top of his head.
"Oh really, for the plane?" She inferred, "Why? Is something wrong?" She noted Isaac's paleness and clammy demeanor as he tried hard to stay calm.
"Yeah, they..." Isaac continued, "They said they had to repair the plane for some reason. It might take a bit to fix. They may even give us a new flight out later today." He watched her eyes arch in confusion.
"Are you serious?" She asked in disappointment. "They can't fix it?"
"They said it was something serious." Isaac nodded.
"Well what about everyone standing by the gate up there?" She pointed past Isaac. Isaac glanced to see many of the passengers congregating at the gate, their tickets already in their hands. He looked back at her and her kids, and continued concisely.
"Well, they just think they'll at least let them sit on the plane at least." Isaac balked. "But they said no one could get on until they figured out the problem."
"Well, that's just great." The woman frowned, "They couldn't have told us this before we got this far? I really don't want to sleepover in an airport."
"Me neither." Isaac nodded, "But they said something's wrong."
"Now boarding at Gate 36. Now boarding at Gate 36." A voice chimed overhead. Isaac looked again, in fear, as he saw people begin boarding the flight. They moved at a steady pace, the group plodding obliviously to certain doom.
"Isn't that our gate?" She began offhandedly.
"No. they moved us to 38." Isaac countered randomly, "I heard that from the attendants while I was by the desk."
"They changed the gate too?" She asked in doubt. Isaac began a long winded recap of things he'd heard while at the gate. A repair the plane needed. They changed the gates for the arrival. That the plane at Gate 36 was headed to Phoenix, not Tampa.
"Look, um, sir." She interrupted, "Maybe I should go ask them before they get ready to leave." Isaac glanced, and felt sickly relief. The attendants were making last call already and closing off the gate.
"Sure..." Isaac said as he began to sweat. "Go right ahead." He had to think of something, fast, to distract them. To *save* at least them.
"Damn, forgot my bag." He said as he moved roughly, and knocked her carry on bag open, spilling contents all over the floor.
"What did you do?!" She sighed as they both bent down to pick up the scattered items. Isaac glanced up and nodded to himself as he saw the gate closing.
"I'm sorry ma'am." He deflected, "I was going for my bag." He glanced up one last time and nearly dropped what he held. He could only watch as a family, with four kids boarded at the last second. He felt like truly screaming and crying at this point, but knew he couldn't. He has to save at least someone. *Anyone*. So he did his best to stall with the gathering until he could see the plane ready to taxi.
"Damn it." The women sighed to herself as she coddled her children. Defeated, she sat near Isaac. Looking up from her ticket, she could see tears streaming down his face. "Hey," She asked, her voice forgiving "are you okay?"
"Yeah. Yeah." Isaac nodded as he wiped his face, "I'm okay. Just thinking about something sad for a moment. It's been a hard day."
"Hey," The woman said as she set her hand on his leg. Isaac looked at her strained yet compassionate features, "It'll be okay. It'll be okay, and you'll be okay too."
"I know." Isaac said as he quietly regained composure in defeat, "I know."
They saw the smoke from the terminal. A crowd gathered as they strained to find out what happened. Isaac could only vomit for a moment after he entered the carpark on his way back home. | 2016-07-01T23:18:53 | 2016-07-01T22:39:22 | 68 | 12 |
[WP] A pill has been created that adds 50 years to a person's natural life. To get a pill, one must prove to a jury of their peers that their life is worth extending. Each time, the criteria for extension become more rigorous. You are the world's oldest person, and your last 50 years has just ended. | "Just... Please, let me die already."
The jury didn't even blink. I was tied to the litter and couldn't do anything to avoid my grim future.
"For the crime of rebellion, Prisoner 1809", they don't use my name anymore, it's part of the punishment. "You were sentenced to 1000 years in prison. The damage you made to our society isn't paid in full yet."
The guards came and forced me to take the infamous pill once again. | "Wouldn't you like to say... anything? We're trying to keep you alive."
The judge peers at me over his slipped-down glasses. And the twelve members of the jury are silent, disbelieving, until at last a farmer down at the end of the jury-box starts shouting.
"This is bullshit!" he says. "He has to say SOMETHING!"
"Sit down, sir!" the judge bangs his gavel.
Actually, that isn't true. I don't have to say anything - it's just that nobody has ever been silent when offered the chance to live for 50 more years.
The 50-year-pill, which prolongs your life for 50 more years, was created in 2020, and, as you can imagine, it was a smashing hit. Everybody wants to keep being alive. And I do, too. But somehow it just feels wrong.
"You're 969 years old," the judge asks me kindly, "isn't that correct, Mr Methuselah?"
I'm smiling because that was pretty damn good - I almost answered.
When the 50-year-pill was first created, if you wanted one, you had to prove to a jury that you were worth keeping alive. So, first came the celebrities (*Mr Methuselah's Morning Show* - that was me). Then came the politicians. Then came everyone else. Kind of like plastic surgery at the end of the 20th century.
"Without your testimony," the judge tells me slowly, "we'll have to postpone..."
"Make him say SOMETHING!" the farmer shouts. "We can't just let him... just let him..."
Nowadays, the 50-year-pill evaluation is just a formality - whatever you say, your jury awards you a pill (they don't want to be murderers), and if you don't show up, a representative will speak for you (you'll be awarded a pill). But what if you show up and don't speak at all?
"We'll have to postpone," the judge is whispering now, "and at your age, Mr Methuselah, that will probably mean..."
For most of these people - like that kind farmer down there - death is from before time began. It's never come for them or their grandparents. It's anathema. But I was born at the end of the 20th century, when kids were still getting chopped up in Africa, when certain people still remembered the smell of Auschwitz.
This life was terrible to them. And I have to find out if they got a better deal somewhere beyond it. Probably not. I'll probably never even know that I still don't know what happened to them after I die, but I still have to.
"Adjourned," the judge bangs his gavel quietly.
He catches my eye when I stand up. He's peering at me over his glasses, his rich brown eyes. He's probably about 450 years old. An African-American man with a Star of David pinned discreetly to his robes.
"God keep you, Mr Methuselah," he says to me.
"Thank you, your honor." | 2016-10-25T16:43:47 | 2016-10-25T16:38:14 | 505 | 257 |
[WP] Upon dying, you, a serial killer, are sentenced to experience the lives of all those that you killed.
Edit: Thanks, all, for chiming in and upvoting. Or downvoting, since this is apparently something of a common concept. Sorry about that. Would you believe me if I said I didn't mean to be a reposting karma whore? Either way, it inspired the responders to write. Call me a fool, but I'm happy that so many have taken the time to read and write. | He knew what was happening. Of course he did. It was the universe either attempting to punish him for what he did to these girls, or a just and merciful devil who fucking finally got him and was presenting the ultimate reward. He didn't know or care which, because all that mattered was that, in the end, it would end up the latter. A chance to live it all again, even after goddamn Officer Friendly put a bullet through his skull... there was no greater heaven.
Suicide by cop was turning out to be the greatest choice he had ever made.
And so, despite his revulsion for being in the spectator's chair in the mind of a little girl, he waited. Waited for the chance to see it from the other end. This girl was his first, and his favorite. He remembered it so clear: pinning her down, telling her what she did to deserve this, watching the brilliant moment when innocence died and the dawning realization that there was no escape from her own mortality...
He practically salivated thinking of it.
So, he waited. Even as she grew. Even as she met her future husband. Even as she birthed her first child. Even as she grew old. And it was only as she lay on her deathbed surrounded by friends and family that he finally broke and accepted the truth.
All in all, he had taken eight, before his own death. All eight, he would have to sit back and watch the future he had taken from each of them. He would live his worst nightmare, his true hell - he would watch them be happy.
It was a very long time before he stopped screaming. | Well... this is *not* how I wanted to spend my Saturday.
I really had no intention of dying so easily, but what can I say? I fucked up. She fought back. Still, scissors to the gut is *not* how I wanted to go.
Now I've been forced to carry out my tormented punishment before I can go to hell in peace. Apparently the "powers that be" over the afterlife think that what I did is "disgusting" and "inhumane" but what are you going to do? A serial killer's gotta make a living, too. So as "payment" in order to "appease the lives I've taken", I have to live out the lives of all those I killed. That's going to suck, me having killed upwards of fifty people.
Have I mentioned how much I hate the pricks up in heaven? Seriously, they think they're *soooo* high and mighty, but honestly they're all just huge dicks.
I mean, come on! I was the most feared killer around, people would skip town when they found out I was nearby! A'course, they didn't find out until after I had already murdered someone. *Aaaannyyywayy* so all I had to do was live as my victims until I was murdered... by myself...
It wasn't all that bad, I got to see just how awesome I am first-hand, and I got to witness the majesty of my murder from the victim's eyes. The problem came with victim number 96. The last one. The only one I was dreading.
Everything was black for a minute, then the world appeared around me, like someone flipped a switch or something. I took a look around, I recognized this place, but of course I would... this was my home. I had to confirm my suspicion so I took off my shoes, and looked down at my feet. Now, I should explain, I don't gain the memories or personalities of my victims during this experience. I'm simply seeing the world through their eyes. I do have some minor control though, for example I can move around and speak and all that, but other than that I'm completely powerless.
That's when I saw it, first the beautiful anklet I recognized all to much, then the pink and blue polka-dotted socks that were my personal favorite. I looked on the sole of this particular victims foot, praying it was all a coincidence, praying that I had killed this girl without realizing of remembering. But no, on this victim's sole were the words "I love you" over and over and over. I started to tear up, and I knew that this was my real punishment.
I recognized these words so well, because I had written them. Me, Morgan Stunnick, the deranged serial killer, had written these words here, one day when I was playing sound with my girlfriend. The only killing that still haunts me.
I heard the door open, and heard footsteps downstairs. "Hello! I'm supposed to meet a... Morgan Stunnick here...? Anybody home?" This was her, my intended target. Then, without my knowledge or consent, my body started moving, towards the door, and then down the stairs. All the way I was bawling my eyes out, even though this body showed none of it.
As I reached the bottom of the stairs, and my pale feet hit the cold tile floor, I heard a gunshot ring out. The world went black again. I couldn't hold it in, a rush of tears exploded out of my eyes, my face was hot, my nose was runny, I hated myself for the first time in my entire life due to this moment. I miscalculated the angle, I was off on my aim, and I shot my own fucking girlfriend. This alerted my intended target, and I ended up with scissors in my gut.
When this first happened I didn't even have enough time to process anything (if I had, I wouldn't have lost to an idiot with a pair of scissors, trust me). Now I was alone, and it was different. We had been together five years. Five *fucking* years of pure bliss and happiness, I planned on proposing next month. All that was ruined because I couldn't aim a fucking gun. | 2016-11-13T14:42:36 | 2016-11-13T12:45:59 | 25 | 16 |
[WP] "It literally could not get any worse if we summoned Cthulhu, and in fact might improve the situation somewhat."
UPDATE: I must say, I did *not* expect a cheap [Godzilla Threshold](http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/GodzillaThreshold) prompt to become my most upvoted post. I'm quite enjoying all of your stories so far, so keep it up! | The TV just continued to softly humm in the background, news anchors muttering in seeming shock. "Donald Trump will be the 45th president of the United St-" the TV clicked off and the cultists sighed.
"It literally could not get any worse if we summoned Cthulhu." One said. "And in fact, it might improve the situation somewhat." | I never thought I would see her wearing a full body armor and wielding twin plasma machinegun as large as a motorcycle. Heck, I never imagined I would see her holding something larger than my dog.
Valiantly, she charged upon the hordes of gray six meter long worms, accurately evaporated their heads and hearts. But the hordes never stop. At the middle of the city was a gleaming red portal where various creatures worse than even my worst dream, and it got worse by the minutes.
I felt pathetic. Again and again, she saved me from huge psychedelic creatures, many of which are nematoids and insectoid in nature, while I could only run, avoiding the ruin brought forth by both side alike.
And then a giant frog, larger than a hill, appeared from the portal. Easily, it swatted the squad fighting its minion, turning almost half of them into traces of vermilion, not even a corpse remains.
I can't see her.
Amidst the destruction brought forth by the giant frog, a name repeated itself in my mind, along with the color red. *"Ythogtha is the savior, Ythogtha you shall worship, in Ythogtha you shall pray...."*
"Shut up!" again, I searched for her, ignoring the carnage, but deep inside I know I would never saw her again. "YOU!" I challenged the one-eyed Ythogtha, and it halted.
I felt fear. But I cannot step back. Another voice whispered into my mind *"Kill it. Retrieve her. Call for my name. Call for Cthulhu."*
Part of me knew this second voice was far older, far more powerful, the exact power I need to defeat Ythogtha. But this is an unbridled power which could very well destroy the Earth merely by stepping on it. Turning to Cthulhu would defeat Ythogtha instantly, but no life would be saved, nor would she return to my side.
"I won't surrender to either of you. I'm done with depending to others, letting others took the responsibility for something I should have done but didn't. This human," I pointed to my chest "at least *this* human won't surrender to you" I declared, again looking straight to the gigantic eyes that corrupted and killed its surrounding just by existing.
"What was dead shall stay dead, dreaming it shall be but even its dream shall be taken from it."
The ancient powers intrigued, by this human who impudently ascended to their place. I smiled. "Have you ever tried erasing yourself out of existence?" I reached up, my small human hands too far away from reaching Ythogtha, but that didn't matter. With a simple gesture, Ythogtha was crushed down to a pool of acid, where millions of nightmare creatures spawned. But they too, was crushed by my hands.
*"Impossible, a mere human? Gaining such power, not to mention killing my spawn? Impossible, this is impossible!"*
"Don't worry, little octopus, I'll come to you soon." | 2016-12-22T01:28:16 | 2016-12-21T23:42:28 | 24 | 13 |
[WP] Time machines are invented in 2168. Immediately, a law is put into place banning anyone from traveling to any time before the machine's invention. You are part of a special ops team, sent backwards in time to find and capture someone who illegally traveled back to 2017 for unknown reasons.
Extra points for time paradox twisty things :D | As he turned the car into the driveway of the apartment building, he was telling her about how it was built in the sixties—“The *nineteen*-sixties,” he interjected, though she hadn't said anything. It was tall and long, with inboard balconies, everything in peeling white paint. Behind it, there was pool behind chain-link fencing and forest. There was the lake somewhere beyond that. He turned the car around and down into the opening to an underground parking area, stopping by a plastic panel to rummage in his pockets for a key. The spring air that was blowing softly through the windows was mushy and sweet and warm. The roller door began to trundle upward when he turned the key, and he idled his car around salt-eaten pillars and over corroded concrete floor to narrow spot, number 29. She still couldn't believe that everyone used to be able to drive a car like this. He got out and the boom of the door closing echoed for seconds. She shouldered her purse and kept the opening accessible.
They walked to a dented metal door and he jiggled another key in it until the knob turned. They took the stairs up to the fifth floor, and then along a hushed and carpeted hallway that reeked of recipes from around the world. As they passed apartment 503 she heard someone just on the other side talking as if to her, and her paranoia spiked again. She should have made her move earlier. He was getting the upper hand now. Bad gamble.
His apartment was spartan, with cheap countertops and a white stove and white walls textured and scarred by damage and repairs over decades. Cheap wood tiles in a checker-pattern of threes. The windows were tall though, and the balcony ran nearly the whole length. Through the kitchen and over the little dining table, she had a view over those trees. He had a long, black leather couch in the living room facing over a rug with a trunk on it to a television on a battered dresser. Against the inner wall, a desk covered in papers. By the window an old bookshelf stacked full of paperbacks and magazines. He heeled off his shoes and took hers, and her coat, and hanged everything neatly in the little closet.
“Would you like a drink or anything? Tea?”
“I'm not here to make out with you, Oscar.”
He laughed and started filling the kettle. “You like green tea?”
“Sure.” She stared at the television. “I keep waiting for you to explain yourself but you don't.”
He was tugging open the balcony door now, letting that breeze in the aluminum screen door. The kettle started to gurgle. He didn't say anything right away, but he looked at her and frowned, thinking. He sat down on the couch and welcomed her over, making a point of welcoming her to sit on the opposite end from him.
“I haven't really furnished the place. Just the basics.”
“That's great.”
“Comfort, Sadie. That's why. I retired. You know, there's a woman who I see walking her dog. Must be a hundred and eight, from the looks of her. She's named Sadie. It cycles.”
“You committed treason.”
He smiled.
“What—what is this about? Where are the files?” she asked.
“You watched me drive. I saw. Isn't it something? You have no idea how hard it is to live back now without doing that. It's so absurd, and yet everyone just zips around smashing into each other and dying. It feels... cozy. They're dumb, you know. You can't help but love them.”
“Fuck's sake, Oscar. Cut the shit.”
“I burned them all.” The kettle clicked and went silent. He got up and went into the kitchen. “Actually, how about chai? You like chai. You said it once.”
She didn't say anything. She put a hand into the purse to double-check the gun.
“Great.” He began opening painted plywood cupboards and pulling out mugs and boxes of tea. She listened, wondering if he would try to poison her now. Strange angle. “Anyway, I got really comfortable knowing the future. Made the, uh, 'real world' a lot scarier. I don't think I want to retire into that.”
No, he wasn't going to kill her. He came around the corner with the mugs, string dangling from each, and set them coasterless on the old trunk he was using as a coffee table. He sat again, sprawling as men do when they explain things. “I joined up because I liked the idea of going back in time and fixing things, but that ended up being a lot less fun than just hiding here. One day I found myself more excited to hide, like a—like a tourist or something, rather than do the actual mission. Guess that's when you quit.”
“You can quit a regular job, Oscar. You can't quit the timecorps. What am I supposed to do, go back and say you're working for a charity in the two-thousands, so don't worry about it? How fucking selfish can you possibly be?”
“Christ complex.”
“Yeah, I see that. Even being here could change things, Oscar.”
“Oh, you don't believe that.”
“And you think I'm the only one looking? You think you won't break if they torture you, Mr. 'it's cozy back here?' This is an embarrassment. I'm absolutely speechless.” She took a deep breath and sighed. The TV, cubic and dense on the dresser, seemed like the most absurd thing in the history of being.
“Fuck, if they ever found you. I—” She imagined it. “They'd have everything.”
He stood and gently picked up his mug, taking it wordlessly out onto the balcony. She looked down at her mug, steaming on the trunk. It had a picture of a cow on it.
She got up and walked to the screen door, looking out at him as he leaned on the railing and sipped the tea, staring out over the trees. The other tower, up the street, was far enough that no one would see. Not details, anyway.
“You gotta wonder sometimes, going back in time to fix everything.” he said. The wind was making the tree branches sway. There was still some snow, in shade. He exhaled slowly as she pulled out the gun. “Why didn't we just do it right the first time?” | "Charge your rifles, check your gear, and make for damn sure your memory joggers are on dazzle mode." Gunnery Sergeant Harken bellowed instructions, reminders, and threats to the two squads of Time Rangers assembled for a first-ever mission to the past.
"Christopher Toynbee. Remember that name. Our records show that that surname did not exist before the Practical Naming Convention of 2077, so it is unique back then, assuming he uses his real name and not an alias. Our best estimate of his year-arrival is 2017 in some shit-hole called Austin. The place was a state capitol in the old days, so give some thought on that and what it might mean." Harken eased his way over to the silver horizontal cylinder at the end of the warehouse. "Your speech implants will be activated momentarily and your equipment cloaks are on... Now. Double column on me. Forward! Harch!
Fifteen Time Rangers marched into the dark innards of the cylinder. There were no flashing lights, shimmering metallic-liquid walls to walk through, or anything else, really, just a long walk into a black void.
***
Chris Toynbee arrived in Manchaca, Texas on July 14th, 2017. His immediate reaction to the past was one of wonder. The sun was bright and felt amazing on his skin. The air smelled crisp and clear. Green vegetation was everywhere and so were cars. Once his initial shock and amazement had worn off, he quickly set off to find a hiding place. He imagined that the past would be a difficult place to live, but he had chosen this time and place for a reason.
***
Gunny Harken and his Rangers appeared in a watermelon patch outside of a small town called Prarie Lea, south of Austin, on March 17th, 2017. Psy Corporal King used an advanced device called a Hammond Wave Sensor to determine that Toynbee had not yet arrived. The small-sized platoon dispersed into the countryside and would bide their time, waiting for Chris to show.
Time marched on. Two squads (seven Rangers each) reported to Harken twice daily until a Hammond Wave was detected with a fifty-six percent probability. The detection didn't necessarily mean Toynbee was nearby, but it did mean that *someone* from the future had jumped to the past.
Gunny Harken activated his telecom implant, addressing the platoon, "We have a hit. Get your gear in order and stand-by for probability confirmation. Keep weapons concealed and review historical archives for cultural information. Use the antiquated internet with caution and stand-by for intel updates." Harken deactivated the platoon link and signaled his four Psy Corporals to come to his location.
"Re-calibrate your sensors. I believe this is our hit. We'll need to spread out and triangulate the source once probability is eighty-one percent. If our target is in Austin, we will have some difficulty finding him. The archaic maps available publicly are not as accurate we need. I do not have access to the military, what do these people call them... satellites?" Harken eyed his four Psy Corporals, all women, then continued. "Seek and re-deploy, that is the mission. You will need to understand something about this time, something you will not like. Males are aggressive, even to unattractive women," Harken nodded to Corporal Farber. "These are backwards times and this city has a backwards culture. Do your research."
***
In the future, Chris had pored over archives of past governments, nations, cultures, and beliefs. The future sucked and Chris had a plan to change that. Influence. Influence the right people and the dream that many past generations had of the future would be brought to fruition; Utopia.
His first two weeks in 2017 were committed to two tasks; food and transcribing historical information to an acceptable format, paper. He was meticulous in his transcription. All elections, parties, laws, resolutions, ordinances, or seemingly mundane decisions that led to the future that he knew, he would ally himself to those that opposed it, hopefully preventing the future that would become.
He knew that in the year 2032 the political landscape in the US was changed forever. In that year Texas overwhelmingly voted for a third party candidate, the only state to do so. The Modern Whig Party gained a foothold and over the years flourished into *the* dominant party for the next eighty-four years. Their political dominance led to thousands, or millions, of decisions that created Chris' future. A future he did not want.
Chis delved into politics forearmed with knowledge but no real direction.
***
"Gunny, we have a marker. Ninety-six percent probability, error factor three percent. Creedmoor. He's north of us," Psy Corporal Jensen reported.
"Roger." Harken clicked his telecom and addressed the platoon, "Set camo and conceal weapons. Stealth move in thirty, Pinscher formation." Harken updated his log and looked to the north. "Set phasers to stun."
The platoon crept out of cover with active camouflage engaged. Anyone driving past or walking close-by would have a difficult time seeing them. Although not invisible, they were dim. Lumi-receptors in their uniforms counteracted light, basically shading their outline to match the wearer's background, only a shade or two darker. They had a long walk ahead of them and a pinpoint triangulation would be difficult. It would take time.
***
September 6th, 2017
Harken and the Time Rangers had spent months both waiting on Toynbee to appear and to follow him. Recovering him could be difficult unless he was isolated. His travel patterns indicated a gradual movement into Austin, so their difficulties compounded daily.
"He has affiliates Gunny." King's analysis of their target's movement patterns, combined with now-learned information of Uber, couch surfing, and other share-sourcing habits of these people, resulted in erratic travel patterns for their target. King's scrutiny of Toynbee's movement provided proof-positive that he was not staying in the bush. "Target appears to stay two nights with past-ers before moving on. Spends the day at a political recruiting facility near the center of town. His Hammond Wave signature is solo, no other hits."
"Copy that." Harken clicked off telecom and formulated a plan.
***
The next day:
"What you're doing will ruin us, all of us! Don't you get it! Your system is flawed. Your beliefs are wrong!" Chris was in the process of worrying the handful of people gathered at the Modern Whig Party's headquarters. Several acquaintances he'd made in the past few weeks were with him. "You can't change the future if you are the future! Don't you get it?"
The few party volunteers mostly ignored Chris and his companions, going about their business quietly. Keep Austin Weird, and all that. An obscure political party had more to worry about than a few seemingly off-kilter folks protesting them.
Chris was in no mood to be ignored. The small band of future-savers invaded the rather old office of the Whig's party, intent on being heard and snatching donuts and coffee where they could.
"Gunny, pinpointed the target. New location on 7th street. Multiple past-ers in the location." Simmons clicked off comms.
"Roger that. Dark out on camo and double-time." Harken checked his map and saw that they were twenty blocks from the target. *Get this over now.*
***
2168 - Present day
"You see now why such protections were put into place? Man could not be trusted with such technology, such ability, that could change the course of humanity. Everything that happens, well, it happens for a reason. Who are we to change that reason or outcome?" Professor Wernstrom rested against his holographic podium. "The past is the past. For good, for ill, for naught, for all; everything that has happened has forged us into who we are, what we are."
The history lessons state that:
* Chistopher Toynbee illegally jumped to the past and tried to influence the people into an alternate future
* Gunny Harken and the Time Rangers thwarted his efforts, arrested him, and brought him back to the future
* Christopher Toynbee is his own paternal descendant
* Time machines were destroyed and banned upon return of Harken and the Rangers
* Past-ers are easily dazzled with joggers, or baffled with bullshit
Edit: spelling | 2017-03-07T19:41:51 | 2017-03-07T18:17:23 | 52 | 22 |
[WP] Your roommate is the serial killer on the news. However, he's probably one of the nicest people you know, and he's very respectful, discreet, and moral in his deeds. Neither of you really bring it up until one day he says, "I'm bored. Got anyone in mind for me to... y'know?" | It took Ben a minute or so to answer.
"At the moment... no."
Josh nodded at Ben. Not everyone wants to kill people. No, scratch that. Has a passion for killing people. No, scratch that. Has a... well, it's hard for Josh to explain.
Ben expected some other response from Josh, but that was it. Just a nod. Ben turned back to his laptop, spinning on the swivel chair by his desk. The chair was a gift from Josh, actually. Ben was working on an essay for one of his classes before Josh walked into the room and tapped on Ben's shoulder.
"Well, if I think of someone anytime soon, I'll get to you immediately."
"I'm going to go by the courthouse. I usually look for people myself, but as I said, I'm bored."
Josh always felt like Dexter from TV. A serial killer who only kills the guilty. Too bad Josh didn't work for the police; it wouls make finding victims, having alibis, and hiding evidence significantly easier. Probably. It's probably just TV logic, and it's not like Josh would have any way of knowing.
Ben looked up again. "No kids, right? You won't do that?"
"No kids."
"No pregnant mothers?"
"Nope."
"The news said only the guilty, right?"
"People who got away, yeah."
"Like the Katy Perry song?"
"I mean... kinda?"
"Neat." | I always pretended not to know. James may be meticulous when he's out there, engaging in his "hobby", leaving no trace behind, but he's far from discreet when he's at home. A bloodied knife in the sink every now and then, his insane amount of cable ties, together with the trash bags he hoards in the basement, and his unexplained disappearance every weekend.
It didn't take long before I made the link. That my roommate is infamous killer out there, the one everyone refer to as the Twilight Killer.
Still I pretended. Acted stupid. After all, I do value my life, and thee last thing I wanted is to expose myself, lest I become another of his victims, strangled, butchered and mutilated. Besides, it's not as if James is a bad person. He's one of my best roommate so far, always paying rent on time and helping out with chores. And he helps with my assignments whenever he can.
Still, I could not imagine how he would treat me if I do happen to know his secret. The police said that the Twilight Killer tortures his victim barbarically before killing them, sawing off their limbs while they were still alive, a situation that I prefer to avoid.
Until today, that is. I was just returning from class when I saw him lying on the couch, staring at a butcher knife in his hand. A shudder ran across my back, as my mind instinctively pictured James chopping up his victims with it.
"Hey," I said nervously, trying to avoid eye contact with him as I hurriedly made my way to the stairs. The less I know, the better.
"Hey, Pete," he called out, dropping his head over the arm rest of the couch to face me. "I'm bored. Got anyone in mind for me to... y'know?"
I froze in my steps. "Know what?" I said, suddenly feeling faint. The voice that came out of me was at best a tiny squeak. My heart was jumping nervously inside me. Questions ran in my mind. Was James trying to test me to see if I knew of his 'exploits'? Was he going to kill me to shut me up?
James shifted his attention back to his butcher knife. He slid his index finger slowly along the sharp edges of it. "Aww, don't pretend that you don't know, Pete. I sure you know of my hobby." His right hand made the quotation mark sign as he said hobby.
I swallowed a nervous gulp as my eyes darted around the room, trying to find a weapon or an escape route if needed. "I'm not sure what you're talking about."
The sound of laughter filled the room as James jumped from the couch and walked towards me. My mind screamed for me to run but somehow I just stood there rooted. He placed a hand on my shoulder, causing me to flinch. He chuckled at my response.
"Come on, Pete, I'm not going to kill you. If I wanted, I would have done that a long time ago."
"And why is that?" I stammered.
"Cause you're my best roommate ever man!" James exclaimed. He patted me several times on my back, perhaps to reassure me.
Just as I breathed a sigh of relief, I felt something sharp pierced through my abdomen. I screamed in pain and tried to push James away, but his right arm held me tightly. A few more stabs pierced through my body, each more painful than the last. I struggled to free myself, thrashing my body wildly, but James had a strong grip.
As I dropped to the floor, blood gushing from my wounds, James leaned in to whisper to my ears. "But I guess you don't see me as your best roommate ever, so I guess I have to find a new one."
"But I do think you're my best roommate," I whispered through the pain. The last thing I saw before everything turned to dark was James horrified face.
----------
/r/dori_tales | 2017-03-21T22:37:22 | 2017-03-21T19:26:21 | 31 | 21 |
[WP] In 2020, we received a signal from outer space. Somebody had decoded our language and sent us a message. It was short: "Be quiet. They'll hear you" | **Be quiet, they'll hear you**
"Is this another prank by the astronauts again?" Devina asked, staring at the screen in front of her. "I told them to stop trying to mess with our systems,"
"How could they have pulled that off? We would know if that signal was coming from any of our ships," replied Dan. "Maybe it's an unregistered spacecraft from another nation?"
"I'll file a report," she said, sighing. "You know, when I took up a job at NASA manning the radio communications, I thought it would be more exciting than listening to the astronauts telling us they're okay,"
"What did you expect," Dan laughed. "An alien species communicating with us?"
"A girl's gotta dream, right?"
Devina filled in a lengthy report on the strange message coming from outer space, somewhere on the edge of our solar system. After the rest of the day processing signals and coordinating with the astronauts, she finally called it a day.
She flashed her identification card to the guard as she left the room, and was apprehended by several men in suits as she turned the corner.
"Devina Lynn?" one of them asked, stepping close to her.
"Yes, that's me," she replied cautiously, looking around. There was no one else in the hall. "What's going on?"
"We need you to come with us," he said, flashing his badge. She looked closely to see he was part of the Secret Service. She had seen them around the facility before, but what did they want with her?
"I don't understand, is something wrong?" she asked, confused.
"We are not at liberty to explain here. We need to get you and your colleague to a secure facility immediately," he said gruffly, clearly losing his patience.
She let herself be lead down the hallway and out of the emergency exit, which strangely didn't sound an alarm as they left the building. She was ushered into a limo where she found her colleague, and a very unexpected person.
"Mr President," she breathed out in awe. "It's an honor to meet you, sir,"
"I wish it were under better circumstances. The two of you received an unusual message today, correct?" he asked, looking between the two of them.
"Yes, we thought it was from an unregistered spacecraft and filed a report," Dan said.
"That report made it all the way to me. We checked with every one of the nations that have a space program, none of them claimed responsibility for the message," he said gravely.
"With all due respect sir," Devina began. "It's not the exactly the kind of thing anyone would own up to," '
"We made it very clear that this was a serious matter," he stared at her. "The team is very certain that the message did not come from a human spacecraft,"
"Sir, what you're suggesting has no evidence to suggest its existence," said Dan. "We don't know of many planets capable of supporting intelligent life, let alone any close enough to effectively communicate with us,"
"This isn't the first message of this kind that we have received. We received a similar one eight months ago, warning us to cease deep space radio communications. Our scientists think it's coming from the edge of our solar system, although we can't detect any spacecraft there,"
**They have heard. Evacuate planet immediately. You have one month until annihilation. You have been warned**
The three of them stared at the President's tablet. It was an email from one of his advisers, they had received another message from the same location a few minutes ago.
"We were afraid this was going to happen, we just didn't think it would be so soon," the President sighed, running his hands down his face.
"If you knew about the threat sir," Dan asked. "Why haven't we prepared for evacuation already? A month is not nearly enough time to evacuate the entire population,"
"We can't evacuate everyone," the President laughed darkly. "We have prepared evacuations for a sample of the human population. Doctors, scientists, mathematicians, diplomats. People of different backgrounds to keep the gene pool diverse,"
Devina stared at the leader in shock. "You can't expect us to be okay with this,"
"I do," he said, looking at her with steely eyes. "Because the two of you are being evacuated. Pack your bags," | **"Be quiet. They'll hear you."**
That was it.
**We didn't know.**
Didn't know what was out there, waiting for us.
**How could we?**
No one told us what was out there, they just told us to be quiet, but they never explained what it was we were hiding from. It didn't take long before the bodies started piling up. Two weeks after we received the message, the first colony was slaughtered.
Pluto was the first to go. We had a small research base stationed there, minimal crew, minimal guards. It was supposed to be a cushy gig, just stand around looking menacing and occasionally reprimand someone for drinking too much. It all went to hell so quickly, we didn't have a chance to fight back. Not a shot from our side was fired, there was no warning, there was no quarter, there was only death. We sent out troops the second we lost contact with Pluto, but when they arrived the entire compound was coated in blood and guts. Whatever had done this had redecorated to its liking. There was one message found at Pluto, on a computer that had turned a deep rust colour from the blood coating it, it read simply.
--
**Pluto - Day 986**
We found a new pocket of gold ore and have begun to mine it, it's slow progress but we figure it'll be enough to get some more troops out here to protect it. New faces, that'd be nice. On to the more interesting news. Jerry got married today! To...I think her name is Kirsty, I'm not sure. She's kinda...yeah well she's not good in polite company. Wait, hold on a second, somethings wrong the base's alarms have just gone off. Let me just quickly check what's going on out there.
**IF YOU'RE READIN THIS GET THE FUK OUT WHIL YOU CAN. i REPEAT FUCKING RUUUUUUUUUU**
--
That was it. No video, no pictures, not even a fucking piece of hair or DNA we could analyse to find out what had attacked. Fuck, there weren't even bodies that we could analyse, they were all just simply, gone. Not even a full week later, a station on Mars was attacked. The station located on Mars first moon Phobos was the first to go. It was the same story there was Pluto, except this time we found more than one entry log. One of them was a grainy video of a citizen sending back a message to his family and in the middle of it, his head was just suddenly gone. Blood covered the camera so we didn't get a good look at his assailant. The second was another text log, it read much the same as Pluto's, boring daily life shit for the resident and then the message.
**WE SHouLD NEVeR HAVE COME HERe! WHY THE FUCk DIDn"T WE STAy ON EARTH**
The rest of the base was the same story. No bodies, but enough blood to appease even the thirstiest of vampires and then give them a bath afterwards without once having them touch the same droplet of blood twice. Mars was hit three more times before we evacuated back to Earth and her moon. Casualties only increased each time along with the viciousness of the attacks. By the end of the Mars attacks, Pluto's seemed like a child's drawing. I didn't even know there was that much blood in a human being until we found the blood of twelve citizens filling an Olympic sized pool. This was the first time we'd found bodies after an attack. They gave us a little hint as to what had killed them and so many others, other than whatever they were, they were smart and precise to a fault. Every single body we found, had the exact same wounds. Three puncture marks to the left side of the neck, one on each arm and two to the back of the neck. We don't know why they killed like this, if it was just to maximise the amount of blood poured onto the ground or if there was an actual reason for it. It didn't matter in the end, these findings didn't get us any closer to finding out what the fuck was killing us. So we retreated to Earth and her moon, assuming we'd be safe there.
**We. Were. WRONG.**
For a month, we were safe. It was just long enough for us to attempt to forget about the previous events, just long enough for us to become weak, easy prey. We stopped patrolling so much, troops were shipped back to their original assignments, but not a soul left Earth or her moon behind. Not even to investigate if anything had changed at Pluto or Mars after we had left. We thought we'd be left alone now, we thought that as long as we stuck to our planet, we'd be fine. We thought wrong. The moon colony was slaughtered one dark night. 3 million lives, taken in a single night. We didn't investigate this time, instead, we hunkered down on Earth and waited for the enemy to come to us. We thought we could survive if we did this. But the enemy had other ideas. They used our space shuttles and dropped them on Earth as meteors, killing thousands within the first hour of the conflict. Then they came themselves. It's hard to describe just what they are, but the best way I've found is that they're sentient bipedal arachnids, only way more dangerous. Their fangs were coated in a metallic substance we'd never seen before, they had claws made of the same material. It tore through titanium as if it was paper, our bodies were even easier. An almost casual, flippant swing from one of their blades was more than enough to sever a limb. Now, most of humanity has been slaughtered and they patrol the surface, sniffing out survivors. They're not content to just kill a few now, no, they want us ALL dead. A few of us have banded together and we tried to rebel, tried to gain our planet back, that was a bad idea. We didn't even manage to kill a single one of them. Now we run, we hide and we pray to our various gods that they won't find us. We do what we can to survive.
I don't know if anyone will ever see this, I hope they will. I hope that in the future, humanity has fought them back, or they've just left and you're reading this. Wondering to yourself how we survived and who this guy is that's documented as much as he could. I can say this though, I'll be dead. I won't be surviving the night in fact. Tonight we attack them. One last attempt to try and take back the space station. I hope to god we succeed, I hope that humanity won't be wiped out.
Specialist Logan Miles. Signing off for the last time.
May we meet again.
---
For more go here. https://www.reddit.com/r/Ceruberus/ | 2017-08-25T07:34:00 | 2017-08-25T06:22:29 | 135 | 62 |
[WP] In this dystopian society, citizens are only allowed to say words that are on the 'approved common words' list. All other word lists must be purchased before you are allowed to say a word from them. The rich have a distinct advantage. | "This is absolute tr- ... tr- ... tr-, ... hold on." I pulled out my phone and opened WordSecure, quickly typing in t...r...a...s...h. The payment screen showed up: use once for ten cents, monthly pass for two dollars, or lifetime use for one hundred dollars. I selected "use once," waited for the transaction to clear, then turned back to the ticket agent. "This is absolute trash."
She forced a smile. "I'm s- ... s-" I nodded, and she picked up her phone, tapped a few times, then turned back. "Sorry. I'm sorry, sir, but the flight is overb- ... overb- ..." She closed her eyes for a few seconds to compose herself. "I'm sorry, sir, but the flight is full."
"OK, but can you help me get to Den- ... Den- ... I mean, to where I'm he- ... where I'm he- ... to where I'm going?"
"Yes sir. There is another outb- ... outb- ... there is another flight lee- ... lee- ... going at seven fif- ... fif- ... at ten before eight. There is no f- ... f- ..." She pulled out her phone again. "There is no fee to sw- ... sw- ... change this f- ... f- ..." She blanched, then glanced down at her phone. I heard the ding of an empty WordSecure account and gave a sympathetic smile.
"It's OK. Can you print my b- ... b- ..." I heard a chuckle and glanced over at the man sitting a few feet from the ticket counter. He was reading American Sign Language for Dummies. "Well, sh- ... sh- ..." | I pulled the black mask over my face and took a breath, making sure the holes for my nose weren't going to be an obstruction.
A snap at my left let me know that Jazz was ready too. I turn to face her and run through the plan with my hands. She signs that she's got it.
I prime the manual recharge laser gun and sprint through the parking lot. I see our shadows as we move, made long by the moon-bright LED sign for the building. ZIPFER cast in the shade of electric blue that shoots straight through your eyes and leaves splashes of neon directly on your brain.
He doesn't see us. He's too slow. He's too old. If Robbie had his information right, he's too high too. Too easy.
Jazz takes the lead, aiming and firing on the figure. A hole the size of a softball appears where a knee used to be. The figure falters mid-stride and falls forward. Their leg is a tree the lumberjack didn't quite finished cutting through. The smell of barbecue is in the air. The *Blue* has him too deep in its grip for him to scream.
We're close now. A few quick steps. I see the old man reach for something. A personal force field? A security beacon? Nanite defense framework switch? It doesn't matter. His movements are sluggish and I can't tell if it's the age or the drug. It doesn't matter. I blow his hand off, angling carefully to miss his torso. He opens his mouth wide. I can imagine what it's like to be him. To have to speak so badly and be unable to. Tragic.
The old man holds the nub that used to be his right hand with his left. A look of remote horror crosses his face like he's watching a horror movie. Jazz crouches next to him. I signal to her to stabilize him. I whip out the remote neural interlink from my pack. Jazz takes his pulse and props his head up on her laser gun. I hand her the RNI and she leans close to him, trying to get the spot right behind her left ear as close to the same place on him as possible. The RNI beeps once, then a short burst of 3 beeps. Connection established and currency transferring, as per the program I'd written. No authentication required.
After a few moments, Jazz leans away and hands me the RNI. I take her place. 1 beep. Then 3 short beeps. I linger a moment and then get up. It's done.
Jazz and I look at one another. We've waited for this moment for a long time. The old man's sputtering cough interrupts the moment. I look into his eyes with contempt.
"Richard. That is your name isn't it? Anyway, Richard, you're interrupting a very special moment." I kneel next to him, removing the gun from behind his head.
"Have you ever wanted to say something for months, maybe even years, and been fundamentally unable to do so?" I prime the gun.
"Have you ever forgotten the sound of your own voice because it's been so long since you've been able to speak? I doubt it." I check the sights on the gun and rest my eyes back on him.
"Richard, I want you to know that this wasn't personal. A man has to do what a man has to do is all." I chuckle to myself. "I've always wanted to say that. You know, you read things from books..." I catch myself rambling and take one last look at the trembling old man.
I vaporize an 80-year old skull. I try not to breathe in the stink of a life of unearned wealth. I turn back to Jazz.
"Where were we?"
"Here." She says.
Jasmine kneels in front of me and removes a small dark band from her pouch.
"Will you marry me?"
This is why we're here. I knew it when I got up today. I knew it when I put the mask on. I'm still not ready for this moment.
"Yes, a million times yes." I say. Tears flood my eyes.
"We can certainly afford it now." | 2017-09-20T11:55:46 | 2017-09-20T08:46:17 | 146 | 64 |
[WP] A new rule on Earth is made which allows everyone to legally kill 1 person in their life, this affects the world severely & changes how everybody acts. | "Please, don't kill me."
The words stuck in my head, playing over and over like a broken record.
"Please, don't kill me."
I shook my head and glanced out the window at the empty street, a dreary cloud still enveloping the city. The rain never came, but the cloud never went away. This city was once a happy, vibrant place. People hung out with each other, laughed, actually *lived*. Now, things were different. No one wanted to interact anymore. On the rare occasion you did pass by someone, you were on high alert. You would usually turn and walk the other way. Me? I walked right past them and looked them in the eye. You could see it all in the eyes. That was how you could tell if someone had received The Letter.
The ones who hadn't still had their soul intact. You could see the light in their eyes, like looking at sunshine through a window. They were still people, still whole. The ones who had, they were dead in the eyes. It was like looking into a brick wall. They were blank, devoid of feeling, the invisible burden weighing them down. They weren't really human anymore. But I felt relief whenever I saw them. Because it meant I was safe. The others, they were unpredictable. You didn't know when they'd do it, or who'd they do it to, or if it'd be you.
Since the beginning of civilization man has debated the legality of killing. Executions, the death penalty, over time people didn't think these methods were humane. They were outlawed, and the senators and governors and prison officials could finally go home and sleep soundly, knowing there was no blood on their hands. With the Fall Of D.C., however, went all the laws and regulations that had been painstakingly drafted and re-drafted throughout the centuries. And the first law, the big law, the new first amendment that was put into place was the Statue of Extermination. It worked like this: every citizen would receive a Letter during their lifetime. It could be tomorrow, it could be twenty years from now. But every Letter was the same: you had six weeks to kill someone, otherwise you'd be taken in for "rehabilitation". Aka kill or be killed. The official reason behind this was something like "testing the resolve of those who truly value life". But you know what I think? That those who wanted to see the world burn now had the power to dump over the gas and strike a match.
Everyone panicked and locked themselves inside. I didn't. I refused to let a bunch of fucking psychos determine how I'd live my life. So I went out, everyday, and walked. I wasn't afraid, even on the rare occasion when I passed by someone. Did they make me nervous? Sure. Uneasy? Of course. But scared? I was more scared of being confined to paranoia for the rest of my life, and I was willing to sacrifice it so I could live how I wanted.
Until I got The Letter.
In that one second my world stopped. I read it over, and over, and over, and over, as if expecting to find something that said "Haha! Just kidding!" But this wasn't a joke.
"Dear Reader,
You have been selected to exercise the Statue of Extermination. Failure to complete this requirement in six weeks (forty-two days upon receiving this letter) will result in your enrollment in one of our government sanctioned rehabilitation programs. If/when you complete this, please contact the number below and report the name/location of the individual whom you have selected for this task.
Best of Luck"
It wasn't signed at the bottom, just "Best of Luck". I ran to the bathroom and puked. I never considered what would actually happen when I got my letter. In my mind I was going to defy the government and run off, or some heroic bullshit. But now, with the reality of my situation thrust right in front of my face, I had a very different feeling. For the first time since everything happened, I felt true terror. The feeling in my stomach of pure dread didn't ease up, and I went and poured myself a drink. And another. And another. I sat down, head in my lap, and sobbed.
I waited, patiently. Everyday I went out, walked around all over town for hours on end. Finally, after the third day, I saw a man carrying a backpack. I walked briskly over and flashed a smile. "Hello, sir," I greeted him. He gave me a funny look. "Hello," he said, eying me up and down.
"It's been a while since I've talked to someone, you know," I said.
"Listen, buddy, can I help you with something?"
I looked at the man, tears streaming in my eyes.
"I just..."
"Hey, what's the matter?"
Hand trembling, I pulled out my gun. "I-I-"
A look of sheer terror creeped into the man's face. "Listen, don't kill me. Please don't kill me."
I closed my eyes and pulled the trigger.
In that moment I realized the Statue's purpose. It wasn't created to determine who among us had the resolve to live. It was to break us. Those who didn't comply died, and those who did ceased to live.
May God have mercy on my soul.
| "Here's your pay for today." - said Natasha.
"I said I will take it by the end of the week, didn't I?" - I replied, shoving the books back into my bag.
"Yeah, buy you look kind of sloppy. Could do a haircut."
"Thanks, but I like it this way."
"Suit yourself then." - she shrugged.
As I passed through the door, she called out to me.
"Josh!"
"What now?"
"Could we move our schedule to tomorrow night? I have a test the day after."
"Sure." - I said without thinking about it.
Natasha was a girl I was tutoring. She was the kind that smokes and drinks in her teen. Drugs? Maybe, she used to sell them. Natasha often told me she had killed a man or two, but I never believed her. Anyway, she was the kind you would expect to drop out of highschool with a pregnant belly.
Things changed since the new law was passed. I don't know who created it, perhaps some guys under the stress of making a new regulations? The prisons are overcrowded? Some criminals right activists? Either ways, Natasha came clean after that. She said she liked doing dangerous things because they were illegal, to feel the adrenalin rushing in your veins, to see the surprised look on her victims' face as she slice their throats. Now everybody is as much prepared to be gunned down on the street, 'like a B-rate horror film that relies on scare-jump', she said. So, she decided to do something nobody would expect her to: getting into college. Natasha was interested in psychology. 'Sound likes something I cannot undetstand'. She wanted a thrill in her life.
"What's the matter, Josh? Are you in this or not?" - Steve pulled me back from the train of thought.
"No!" - I exclaimed. - "I'm right here."
"You don't seem to be focused." - Steve scolded, but he soon dismissed me - "Let's go over the plan again. Robert's gang is gonna hang out on the hill tonight. All five of them. We will go by my car. Stop at the foot of the hill, sneak up behind them, and we strike."
We pulled out our guns, two each, checking them one last time. Tonight I was going to use my kill.
Robert and his gang are your everyday bullies. He picked on we 'nerds', that's his term only. He picked on whoever he wanted to. And the new law just give him a stronger grip on the whole school. We gave him our money with a smile, licking his boots with a smile, plunging our own head into the toilet with a smile,... I thought I could handle it, until I was old enough to get away, really far away, from them. But it all ended when Robert snapped Mr. Howard's, my favorite teacher and the one who was going to write me a recommendation letter, neck in front of the class. What Mr. Howard did? He asked, politely, that Robert put his feet down from the table.
You can say that with his one kill gone, Robert power would lessen. But a man like him knows a lot of people outside school, people more used to the stench of blood, and these day accidents aren't rare.
So Robert and his gang aced all their tests when we tasted Ds and Fs busting our asses off studying. The only place that recognized our talents just denied us, our only hope of getting far away from Robert was lying under his thump. We couldn't endure it anymore.
It was a night of full moon and no wind. We stuffed ourselves in Steve's second- second-second-second- hand car. Couldn't help it, you get a car too new, they are going to steal it. Halfway through the machine broke down, we ended up walking to the hill, hoping that they would still be there when we arrived.
We were a team of five. Me, Steve, Nash, Kevin, Rodger. Five against five, with a surprise advantage. Once we had 'slayed the beasts', as Kevin said, we would split the kills evenly between us, returning home as heroes.
We hid behind some bushes, wearing the cloaks created by us and conceived by us, those that absorb light fairly well and keep us hidden. There five of them, along with some girls.
"What do we do now?" - Nash said panickedly - "We didn't account for this!"
"How about we go home?" - Rodger grasped, his asthma acting up.
"Yeah... I think my stomach is hurting." - Kevin added.
"No!" - Steve hissed. - "We've prepared for this for weeks. The guns, the cloaks,... We must kill them all."
"Even the girls?" - I asked.
"Even the girls." - Steve's eyes flared up in hatred. - "We will become heroes. Then, we can ask some of the school to cover up for us."
"That's sound nice. I can ask Alice to share us her kill." - Rodger turned enthusiastically all of the sudden. Alice is his sister.
"I can ask Oswell too." - Nash agreed.
"So we are in this." - Steve ordered.
"Yeah!" - we spoke in union.
"3...2...1... Go!"
The five of us dashed forward. I, however, tripped over the root of a nearby tree, planting my face in the dirt. As I got up, I heard gunshots, the girls screaming, and men roared. How do you like us now, Robert? I jumped out, fumbled on my feet, the guns in my hands....
....only to see the dead bodies of my friends.
"There's still another one, guys!" - said Robert, himself holding a firearm.
"Damn those bastard!" - Lil' Johnny cursed, his leg bleeding. He was the only one we managed to hurt. - "Damn that bitch too, runnin' off like that. What does she think? I can't handle these trashes?"
"You've gotta admit, Chloe got a fine ass." - there was Frankie, with a bloodstained cigarette in his mouth and a knife in his hand.
"Call her back now." - commanded Robert. - " I don't want her to call the police. And she hasn't used her kill yet, right?"
"I'm callin'." - said Johnny, one hand holding his wounded leg - "Virgin or not, she's not worth it."
"What will we do with you now?" - Robert smiled sadistically, pointing his gun at me.
I stumbled and fell, holding my head in fear. Closing my eyes, I hoped it would be quick.
And it was quick. With some screams.
When I opened my eyes again, Natasha was standing there in a pool of crimson. The bodies laid next to her, her red fuild dripping off her knife.
"Wha...Wha..." - I was speechless.
"You seemed to be distracted lately, but your notes were too detailed. You even give me books. Makes me think you were trying to tie up loose ends. Is that the term?" - she said casually, walking toward me and extended her arm. - "And you hid the guns terribly."
I stood up, still not processing the events.
"Tha... Thank you." - I stuttered, before noticing a large stain on her arm, much redder than others. - "Are you... Are you hurt?"
"Tis' but a scratch." - she chuckled at the reference, I did not. Her smile got fainter as we heard sirens nearby. - "And I was looking for our session tomorrow. Go now, I don't think the girl had seen you yet."
"But... I... What about you?"
She looked at me with a grin, licking her wound sensually, before kissed me with those tender, bloody lips.
"I'm a killer, not you."
Natasha pushed me off the hill, the impact lessened due to the bushes. I think I got a glimpse of her mind now. There was nothing more thrilling than love.
Natasha stood there grinning. She painted the moon red. | 2017-12-03T10:56:59 | 2017-12-03T09:41:22 | 31 | 11 |
[WP]“Nope. I can’t go to hell. Satan still has a restraining order against me.” | "Nope, I can't go to Hell. Satan still has a restraining order against me." Said Dante, nonchalantly.
"Well, you cant stay here." St. Peter replied. "The angels weren't fond of your snooping last time."
"Where else is there?" Dante asked.
"Hmmm, go wait over there. I've gotta make some calls." St. Peter replied. Dante complied and sat on the steps near the gate. St. Peter opened up a large book and began flipping through the pages. He ran his finger down the middle column, stopping a third of the way down. Mouthing some words, he walked to the wall and dialed on the phone. "Hey, uh, is Sid there?"
"Yeah, it's me." The voice replied.
"Oh, hey. I've got this guy here that we're not equipped to deal with... We don't want him and Satan doesn't either. Is there any way you can get him a reincarnation?"
"Is he enlightened?" Sid asked.
"I'm gonna go with no..." Peter replied, unsure.
"Fine, but you owe me one. There's a monk here driving me crazy." Sid said.
"Great! thanks. Just send him over and I'll call it even." Peter agreed, hanging up and turning to Dante. "Good news! You're going back to earth!" | "Nope. I can't go to hell. Satan still has a restraining order against me. Bastard can't bother to pay up," the man slurred. I watched him through narrowed eyes, signalling the bouncers over with a twitch of my head.
"See, problem was, ol' Beezy wasn't gettin' the souls he used to, 'specially after Johnny won that contest," he continued. "So he turns to me, Archangel Gabriel. Beezy strolls up to me. 'Gabe!' He cries.
"'Fuck off, in His Holy Name,' I said. 'You aren't welcome here. You lost, remember?'
"'Gabe, let's let bygones be bygones! It's only been thirteen hundred ninety seven years, eight months, three-and-a-half weeks, and roughly twenty hours! Not that I've been keeping track.' He says, draping an arm 'round me. I tried to shrug it off, I did."
I gesture to the bouncers again. *We're going to need emergency services for this one.*
"'Alright,' I groan. 'We'll let your Fall go. What the Holy Fuck are you doin' here?'
"'See, Gabe, this is *exactly* what I need!'" The man's finger punctuates his point, dancing a wild figure-eight. He starts slipping off the stool with a cry, catching himself with the still dancing finger. Steadying himself, he raises his head to look at the bar once more.
"'See, Gabe, I need an Angel. Someone close to Him, let him know I'm coming up on Parole and I've done well.'
"'Get back, Satan!' I cried. 'Begone, you Demon!'
"He hissed, of course. 'Gabe, buddy, it's me, Lucifer. Look, all I need is for you to put in a good word for me, and I'll give you some damned souls in exchange. We good?'"
"'I'll regret this later, but yeah. I'll do what I can,' I said. Well, I put in the good word, and the Man himself cast me out! Said I needed to learn *humility* and *what it was like to Fall.*
"So I go to the one person who can help me! I turns to Satan! I says, 'Satan! I am the former Archangel Gabriel! I need your aid and succor, for I have Fallen and can't Rise!'
"You know what he says to me? He says I can't enter Hell! Says I'm an Angel, and Angels would be shanked less than an hour after entering!"
The man hasn't noticed the suited bouncers moving next to him. He's enraptured by his tale.
"So I keep banging on the door! I keep calling, yelling! My Heavenly voice grows raspy, guttural...*human*" he spits. "I'm knocking for ages! The next thing I know there's a *human* there, saying I've been served a cease and desist letter! Me! The Archangel Gabriel! I'm bein' told I can't come within one thousand miles of the Archenemy, the Fallen One, Satan himself! Says he'll get the humans involved if I ever knock on his door again, or call out his name!"
I silently gesture to the bouncers. They close in, each putting a hand on one of the man's shoulders.
"Hey, bud," I say, my silky voice smoothing over his tears, calming his rage. "Buddy, look. You've had a bit much to drink. My friends behind you are going to help you. They'll help make things right.
"So, let's let bygones be bygones, Gabe. After all, you're among friends down here." | 2017-12-03T18:58:49 | 2017-12-03T18:34:31 | 61 | 41 |
[WP] Whenever you are about to die, your main consciousness switches to alternate universe in which you survived. This makes you conscious only of the longest possible life. Uppon death, you are shown all the ways you would have died. | Hell.
*"Death 36,288,753,580: Branch snaps while climbing tree. Neck broken in fall."*
I'm in Hell.
*"Death 36,288,753,581: Branch snaps while climbing tree. Impaled on broken branch upon landing."*
I'm sitting in a white room with a small TV. It's showing me all the ways I *could* have died in my life, but didnt.
*"Death 36,288,753,582: Branch snaps while climbing tree. Arm broken in fall. Complications from infection."*
Sequentially.
*"Death 36,288,753,583: Branch snaps while climbing tree. Back broken by a lower branch during fall."*
I vaguely remember that tree. The branch did break, and I fell. But I didn't die. Had a nice concussion though if I remember right.
*"Death 36,288,753,584: Branch snaps while climbing tree. Skull fractured on impact."*
I was 7.
*"Death 36,288,753,585: Branch snaps while climbing tree. Head contusion resulting in brain hemorrhage."*
It's going to be a long afterlife...
| "Are you an angel?" Peter asked the creature that was bathed in light, light far too bright for him to be able to make out any real features. It was tall though, and he thought he could make out wings billowing behind it. Far away in the distance, he could just see the outline of an arched gate.
"*Yes,*" it said in a warm, honeyed voiced.
"Does- does that mean..."
"Yes."
"And this is..."
The angel's voice became pitiful. "Do not be sad, Peter, but instead rejoice. This is the reward -- the fruits of your labour. You lived a long life. Not many make it to your age."
"I..." Peter stuttered, as a joy inside him fought with an urge to confess.
"Go ahead, Peter. There is nothing you hide that I do not already know."
Peter swallowed, unclogging his throat and allowing the words to tumble out as a whisper. "*I cheated.*"
"As I said, I know."
A feeling of warmth ran down the man's spine sprinkling goosebumps in its wake. It was as if a catharsis had washed over him as a great wave, leaving but a single tear trickling down a well worn track. "You do?"
"You were a clever man, Peter."
"Clever?" Peter's demeanour began to change. "Clever! Hah! No, I was a fool, nothing more than that. Arrogant. A young man who wanted to live for a long, long time. For too long."
"That it why you created the device. Did you not get what you wanted?"
"*Wanted*? To be a man unable to move from his bed, whose ancient legs were no more than extra limbs stuck onto a barely breathing torso? What animal would desire such torture! That is how the last thirty years of my life were. And how many hundreds of times I died in those years, I do not remember, nor would I care to."
"I have given you a new body, Peter."
"I... I am forever grateful."
"There is more, is there not Peter?"
"..."
"There is guilt?"
"Guilt?" Peter questioned.
"I see your soul. There is guilt for the things you did. For the sins."
"You mean for the"--Peter swallowed--"for the... for my own deaths? They were irrelevant, for I'd simply be able to live again by dying. There was no sin but arrogance."
"You'd live as another you."
"It was always me!" he spat.
"It was a different you. You'd steal the life of another. Possess him, until you were done with him. Until you were bored and ready to move on to another world. A different life, perhaps better, perhaps not. And if it was not... you'd end their life. And you couldn't ever just leave them, Peter. You didn't let them live out their lives with their families. You'd murder them. You'd leave their families without a father, a husband, a son..."
"I couldn't just *let him be*. The only way for me to move on was to-"
"Is suicide a sin, Peter?"
"*I* never died."
"Is murder?"
"Murder of oneself, when oneself lives on? Please, spare me this mockery of justice. Either let me in or send me back -- and seeing as you've not already sent me back, it's clear which you will do."
The angel stepped out of the light and Peter saw him for the first time. The pocked skin on the creature's face bubbled where it wasn't rotten and peeling. Its thin red lips curled up into a smile. "As always, you are right Peter. Come, there's a place for you inside."
| 2018-02-15T06:21:54 | 2018-02-15T05:33:05 | 3,171 | 1,584 |
[WP] Magic can only be performed by twins, and only so long as both of them are alive. You're the third-born of a set of triplets. Your elder siblings are mages, and you aren't. At least, that's what you've told everyone. Truth is, you've got a new kind of magic. | Anthea and Althea were treated like royalty in our small town. Twins were rare, and they were the only pair in our town. Everywhere they go, the townsfolk would offer them gifts to try to earn their fancy.
An can create magic potions and weaponry enhancements. She was even given the title of "Esteemed Mage" and had a research facility of her own inside the Kingdom. The skirmishes from other warring kingdoms ceased when she displayed her ability; making the weapons unbreakable, and basically making the soldiers killing machines with her potions. There were peace talks currently ongoing to mend the rift and expand the Kingdom.
Al can control the weather. With her help, the town never experienced drought and the harvest were always bountiful. The Kingdom would often seek her for their monthly "Snow Dance". Only the nobility, the gently and the royalty could attend such an event. With the exception of my sisters, of course.
And, I, the oddity, was their youngest sister. There had been no record of triplets being born, and when the mages tested me for magic all those years ago, the results yielded nothing.
I wanted it that way. *I* made it that way. Since I was old enough to think coherently, I decided not to reveal my ability, even to my own loving family. My parents and my sisters didn't think of me any differently just because I was powerless, and I was grateful for that.
You see, my sisters' abilities had a similarity: they create. My ability is to destroy. I could destroy anything by touch or by mere thought. It was a dangerous ability, and I knew that someone will try to covet it if I had let it known, revealed it to the world. Just imagine, having an entire country crumble into naught with just a thought.
So I steeled my resolve. I will continue what I had been doing, staying neutral and keeping watch. Because when the time comes that I'll have a real need for this ability, only I will decide if I had to use it. | Ella slowly knocks on the door. She breaths in gradually and then let all the air out, trying to let the nervousness pass. There is no response for a while, but Ella doesn't move. She stays patient. This might be the only thing he has left at this moment.
The door slowly opens and Lila peeks outside. "What do you want?" she asks, showing visibly annoyance.
"Mother asked you two to come dinner," Ella explained. Lila looked annoyed and let the door slowly gravitate open, making a creaking sound. Lila knew that Ella loved their magic, so she let the door open on purpose, to tease her. Ella took the chance and peeked inside the room.
She saw butterflies fly around, giving away lights of different colours. The room walls looked like they were in a fantasy world of different colours and changing the scenery. Their magic was beautiful. Ella always had admired the magic of those two, that is when he had a chance to admire.
"Who is it?" Mila asked as she concentrated her magic on her bed.
"Ella."
"And...?"
"Mom asked us to come down for food," Lila responded. Mila slowly shook his head.
"Pass. I am concentrating, I am too busy to deal with such trivial things," Lila said out loud, making sure that even Ella would hear it.
"Mom did your favourite food though! Come on, put your magic down and spend time with your family, at least a little bit," Ella tried to encourage her sisters. "You are soon 19 and moving out anyway!"
Lila looked at Ella, eyes poisonous. "Listen here, sister," she started talking and walking quickly towards the door, gaining Ella attention. "You who have no magic what-so-ever should shut your mouth. Go spend time on a trivial thing like family or whatever you magicless people do. We have more important things to do! We need to prepare for the academy!"
The patience was gone. Ella looked at them, mad. Mila noticed that. "Oh, is our little sister mad? What are you going to do? Come and kick me with your hands?" Mila looked towards Lila and nodded. She nodded in returned. As Mila stood up, all the butterflies in the room started burning up and the walls started to go back to the colour of grey.
She stood up and started walking towards the door as well. The magic in this world was simple. No words, no actions, just feelings. Both twins had to want to do the same thing. It was more about connection and synergy. This is why the magic worked as long both of them were alive. A moment later, Ella started floating up. That was till her head touched the ceiling. Then her feets started going up until Ella back touched the ceiling entirely. Ella sisters were amused.
Ella, however, showed no emotion. "I am sad," instead she said. "You think so little of those who helped you grow up, fed you and gave you all the love in the world. You can't appreciate even those little things, just because you got something more special," she shook his head, slowly making a snowman on the ceiling as she explained. "Your mother cries almost every night because how cold you two have become. Yet, you do not care."
Mila and Lila looked at each other and started laughing. "You say that because you are nothing special either, sister. It's unfortunate that you were third and destiny didn't choose you! You would never understand!"
Ella sighed and shook his head. The patience, she had before, was over. She could no longer look at his foolish sisters. She gave a smile and suddenly she fell down from the ceiling. It wasn't long fall and she was even prepared. Still, a small moan came from her a moment after she had landed. It did hurt a bit.
Both Mila and Lila looked confused.
"Whether you get it back or not depends on you," Ella said and started going downstairs.
"Stop her!" Mila said to Lila.
"I am trying!"
"Don't bother. I took your magic away. Here is a trivia. Back in the time, it wasn't entirely about your magic training, it was about when I let you have your magic and when I took it away." Ella gave both her sisters a quick smile, did a quick hand movement and the door in front of both girls opened entirely.
"Don't take too long, food will get cold."
But little did Ella know, it worsened the relationship between her and her siblings even more. But for her, it was worth it. She needed to do that for family, for parents and for peace of her mind.
----
/r/ElvenWrites | 2018-02-20T03:59:06 | 2018-02-20T02:10:25 | 57 | 24 |
[WP]You've been dating an amazing woman for a year. One day, she gets a call and rushes into the closet. When she comes out, she's weraing white armor, and a matching sword and has wings coming from her back. She says "I have to go, but I'll explain when I get home." Before flying out the door. | Yup. I never had ... relationships without complications. I guess dating a super hero or something was one of the better kind of complications.
I condensed those thoughts into a confused shaking of my head and a gesture telling "What the hell, jenny?". Then I patted her on the shoulder. She was tense and stressed, I could tell. "I'll leave the balcony door open. Do you need something if you come back?"
She turned back for a moment. "Do we still have scotch, and chocolate? And if you can, get some iodine pills. Stronger will be better."
"Alright. I'll keep the balcony open. Just make noise when you crash."
She scoffed "Thanks. I'll explain this when I come back". With a couple of steps and a strong gust of wind, she was gone.
I went to put my jacket on, since chocolate was definitely out at the moment. Iodine pills, I mused, must be radiation involved. Ingo will find that request weird. But he finds most requests I have weird. He considers that fun.
It's not like I never knew. She tried to hide it. Normal people don't come home at 3am bruised and beaten. Members of illegal fighting rings might. But those guys wouldn't get regular or acid burns or other weird wounds ever once in a while. No club we never talk about for her.
She was pretty bad at hiding it, actually. But that's fine. We need our White Avenger dealing with these aliens and dimensional invaders. And our White Avenger needs someone to crash on the balcony on, to get her worst problems taken care of, and someone to hand her a hot chocolate.
Maybe I'll know her officially tomorrow, at least between us two. | I stood there for what felt like almost an hour, staring out the window Eden just flew out of. My mind was blank, as if all my thoughts were taken away with her, I didn't know what to say, or even how I was supposed to feel about this. The familliar, hated itch returned, causing me to agressively scratch at the back of my neck, finally forcing my body to move again, getting into the living room. My skin still itched, my fingertips stained with faint red where my nails had scratched it open. Taking a deep breath I clenched my hands into fists, trying to hide how they were shaking. A mixture of emotions started to bubble up, one I really didn't want tod eal with right now. I wasn't sure if the bitter feeling of betrayal or cold sense of acceptance was stronger. Without thinking I grabbed a bottle of mead from the cupboard storing the liquoire, downing most of it in one go.
​
When Eden returned home the armor and sword were gone, along with the feathered wings. She looked uneasy as her emerakd eyes scanned over my form, sitting on the ground leaning against the wall in the corner, still holding onto the empty bottle. *"Fae, I...*" her Voice trailed off, and she awkwardly shuffled under my blank gaze. **"Why didn't you tell me?**", I asked, a sharper tone than I intented. Anger and betrayal was a dangerous combination. "**You know what I was when we started this. And still you didn't fucking think about telling me you're one of them?**" Eden lowered her glance almost in shame. *"I was scared, okay? I know you're one of the few that survived the daylight wars, and I know you have all the reasons to hate my ancestors and what they did, but... I-I was afraid you'd push me away the moment you knew*", she managed to get out, hesitantly crouching down in front of me. I felt the ember in my eyes burn, looking away, pressing my lips together.
*"I'm aware that I'm still very young compared to you, Fae. I was lucky enough that I didn't have to participate in the war between our folks. But when I met you that night I didn't see your demonic side. I saw a soul that went through so much torment, enough for more than one lifetime. And yes, I know why my ancestors named you the crimson devil. But those times are long over, Fae. A-and I just thought that if you knew I'm an angel, you'd... leave."*
I took a shaky breath as Edens words ended, pressing my forehead against my knees, feeling my eyes tearing up. And with them memories rose up again as well, of the bloodshed, of the years afterwards, trying to adjust to the fact we were no longer at war. Years spend in isolation, trying to process and cope with all the horrors that came with the violence. The day I met Eden who so easily swept me off my feet and tore down walls around my heart as if they'd never been there. The way she kissed the ugly scars along my back, where my wings used to be, or the sigil branded into my neck, marking me as a creature of the night, damned to live in the shadows. And her absolutely disarming kindness and patience towards me when times were rough.
"**Why?**", I finally spoke up, lifting my head to look at her again. "**Why do you care so much about someone as broken as me?**" Her hands were cool against my heated skin as she cupped my face, her touch light as a feather. "*Because I genuenly believe that every soul deserves salvation. And I believe, out of all people, you deserve forgiveness, and a new beginning. You've met with a terrible and unforgiving fate, and I believe it's time you finally get to forgive yourself and life in peace."*
Eden pulled me into her arms the moment the last straw finally broke, holding me close as I sobbed into her shoulder, unable to respond to the unbreakable ammount of love I recieved from her.
I would have never believed that someone of the same blood as those, who took away everything I had, was the one who gave me everything I needed the most.
| 2018-09-16T13:10:00 | 2018-09-16T12:45:28 | 92 | 26 |
[WP]Every intelligent, skilled or rich human has been evacuated from the Earth to avoid the alien invasion. This leaves the dregs, criminals and the poor behind on Earth to fend for themselves. Centuries later, the other return to "liberate" Earth only to find that they have won and prospered. | "THIS IS OUR BIRTHRIGHT! We will reclaim it!" Fleet Captain Julius Kaine spoke angrily to the holo-specter of the Terran Orbital Defense Commander Sorlain. Sorlain replied with controlled anger "You lost that birthright when your ancestors abandoned ours just to save their sorry souls from the Archon invasion."
Julius was frustrated. He was top of the academy, one of the greatest captains in the New Earth's history. After 700 years they were ready to retake their homeworld. The warp gate only led their ancestors to Gaia system, but it took them a century to build the jumpspace technology to travel anywhere. They had had only recently discovered Earth's location and were ready to retake it by force from the Archons. They were told that those who stayed behind were heroes who sacrificed themselves for the greater good. Instead he found a planet with glimmering cities, blue oceans, forests and an orbital defense shipyard ring around the planet.
"YOUR ancestors were HEROES! To deny this unification is to disrespect them!". Sorlain's face grew dark. "Your ancestors abandoned those who they deemed unworthy" she said. "They were poor, average, criminals and even those who served the army. You left us behind to die at the hands of the Archons. Yet we stood the tide and for 50 years we fought until we defeated them with unlikely allies. Now we are at the peak of our society and YOU think you can come and take it all away?."
"But the Archons will surely return and..." Julius said but Sorlain cut him off "The Archons are dead." shocked, Julius continued "There will still be others and you need us." "No we don't." " If you do not comply we will use force. Your defense ring won't hold up against the might of the entire New Earth Fleet." Julius smiled at his checkmate. Sorlain returned the smile "True, but remember the unlikely allies I talked about?" Alarms blared around Julius as several massive ships appeared around his fleet. Another holo-specter of a tall green eyed human appeared, "This is High Captain Carvos Ultren of the Grand Alliance. Stand down or you will be obliterated". Sorlain's smile grew "Carvos's people were the ones who helped us defeat the Archons on Terra as they too had lost their home to them. Together we rallied other races and ended the Archon warmachine once and for all. What you threaten now is a founding race of the Grand Alliance. Any attack on us is an attack on them. Now you will return to New Earth and tell them we are independent. If they wish to negotiate a mutually beneficial alliance or join the GA, that can be arranged. Else we advice you keep to your sector and cease hostility on us or our allies unless you wish for a war you cannot win. And we call our home Terra. Earth was the name we used before we liberated it from the Archons"
Julius could feel his face getting red while looking at his crew on the bridge he said "Signal a retreat." Looking back at Sorlain and Carvos " This is not over" his anger was barely contained as his fleet made the jump back to New Earth to report his failure.
"Carvos alert the council. Tell them to increase defenses and have several fleets patrol the solar system especially on our colonies." Sorlain said, "I have a feeling this isn't over."
​ edit: had to fix a typo | For all the scans of the planet's surface and drone inspections showing the state of all former major cities - now desolate wastelands overgrown with moss, grass and towering trees - nothing could have prepared Camille and her crew for what lay beyond her ship.
They hadn't expected to be stopped at checkpoints along the way, or for a spaceport to be in operation where they chose to land, or to have to use their shields when attempting to land on their own planet, and it really should have been their first warning that something was incredibly _wrong_ that these things happened in the first place. Perhaps these were remnants of the Riiken invader technology, overpowered by those left behind...?
As the captain's sturdy, solid boots touched tile on the pristine, grandiose docking station of her ancestors' home planet, she couldn't help but feel a little choked up, a wave of nostalgia for the stories she heard as a child at night after hours upon hours of tutoring pulsing through her very soul...
She was quickly brought out of that by the unmistakable sound of energy weapons being primed - and not those of her crew.
"State your name and purpose here." The woman who spoke had her weapon trained on Camille. This was not treatment she was used to, even as a starship captain. Where was the fanfare, the warm welcome? Where were the Riiken, where was the eternal smouldering fire? It almost rattled her too much. But with the looming threat of possible death and the suspicion that these poor humans were brainwashed slaves, she steeled herself for whatever the next moments could hold for her crew, and gave te newest version of the Spacebound Naval salute.
"Camille Dejardin, captain of the SSS Voyager," she said, tone neutral and steady as the woman gave her a very obvious look up and down. Crude. "We are... voyagers, exploring warp-ready planets for trade." If the Riiken were still here, she couldn't give away their true purpose on the planet. "We come in peace. We request to meet with your masters."
A deathly silence filled the terminal. Several people holding energy weapons fixed cold glares on Camille alone. Even in the pits of the venomous Vilkani race, she'd never felt quite as shaken as she did at this very moment.
A moment broken by raucous laughter, and the crew of the Voyager looked at one another, confused, uneasy. Each crewmember placed a hand delicately at their hip, close to their weapon. Camille stood fast.
"Masters?" the woman responded, incredulous. "I don't know about my _masters_, _captain_, but I'm sure Ambassador Aguilar would love to see you right about now." Turning away from the captain, she yelled into the darkness beyond. "_Yo Candy!_ Looks like we've got some saviours here to talk to our masters!"
"Oh, that don't get old."
His voice wasn't deep, but it crunched like gravel on every word. Did they still smoke tobacco here? Back on the Martian base Camille grew up on, anyone who smoked used a vape pen, and it was still considered crass. She'd only ever read about tobacco use in books. Could it still be grown here? What else were they growing? Lazy, padding footsteps approached the gate where her crew were being penned in like animals, flimsier than her steel-capped boots.
The ambassador was... short. Short and tan with dark hair, clean-looking in a crisp suit, missing a few key elements such as a tie and a dress shirt replaced by a crew neck t-shirt in a bright green colour with pink accents. Under the grey suit, it stood out, and only just covered tattoos that originated on his shoulders, presumably. He grinned a wide, toothy grin and walked right past the security detail, tall men and women who nodded as he did so. Camille tucked back her platinum blonde hair and looked down at the gentleman before her.
“Wilkommen, bienvenue, welcome!” he murmured, holding a hand out. Her crew shifted uneasily behind her. “Glücklich zu sehen, je suis enchanté…!” She seemed perturbed, but shook his hand carefully, as if it might explode. His smile softened. “…happy to see you. My name is Candy Aguilar.” She visibly balked at the revelation, and the ambassador just grinned. “Your crew look tired. Let my guys take them to the canteen. We can accompany them there, if it worries you.”
She knew if she refused, her crew may be imprisoned, hurt. Reluctantly, she nodded, and as they walked her eyes darted around, looking for signs of the Riiken. For a good stretch, the ambassador merely watched her, dark eyes hiding their intent. It made her nervous, much more than she already had been, but she tried not to show it. But after the first few corridors and the first stairwell, Ambassador Aguilar let out a melodic little laugh, rough like sandpaper. She didn’t dare ask why.
“What’s the matter, _hermana_?” Did… did he just call her _sister_? “You look tense.” She didn’t respond, her mind not working quick enough as she took in the environment. Clean, tiled, off-white. Some decorations lined the walls. Paintings of wars she didn’t recognise, motivational posters with kittens in patterns she’d never seen before. It had been said that exposure to radiation in space had irreversibly changed the DNA of everyone and everything their ancestors took with them. Perhaps the animals she would see here would look different, somehow… The ambassador must have noticed her confusion, for he gave another one of those giggles, like a glockenspiel being smacked by a glass nail file.
“I don’t know what your books taught you, _hermana_,” he murmured, just quiet enough for only Camille to hear. “But the people your ancestors left behind were not stupid.”
A chill ran down her spine, an unmistakable thrill of excitement and terror combined. What had they missed all these centuries past...?
| 2018-09-29T04:31:25 | 2018-09-29T04:26:58 | 240 | 115 |
[WP]Every intelligent, skilled or rich human has been evacuated from the Earth to avoid the alien invasion. This leaves the dregs, criminals and the poor behind on Earth to fend for themselves. Centuries later, the other return to "liberate" Earth only to find that they have won and prospered. | "THIS IS OUR BIRTHRIGHT! We will reclaim it!" Fleet Captain Julius Kaine spoke angrily to the holo-specter of the Terran Orbital Defense Commander Sorlain. Sorlain replied with controlled anger "You lost that birthright when your ancestors abandoned ours just to save their sorry souls from the Archon invasion."
Julius was frustrated. He was top of the academy, one of the greatest captains in the New Earth's history. After 700 years they were ready to retake their homeworld. The warp gate only led their ancestors to Gaia system, but it took them a century to build the jumpspace technology to travel anywhere. They had had only recently discovered Earth's location and were ready to retake it by force from the Archons. They were told that those who stayed behind were heroes who sacrificed themselves for the greater good. Instead he found a planet with glimmering cities, blue oceans, forests and an orbital defense shipyard ring around the planet.
"YOUR ancestors were HEROES! To deny this unification is to disrespect them!". Sorlain's face grew dark. "Your ancestors abandoned those who they deemed unworthy" she said. "They were poor, average, criminals and even those who served the army. You left us behind to die at the hands of the Archons. Yet we stood the tide and for 50 years we fought until we defeated them with unlikely allies. Now we are at the peak of our society and YOU think you can come and take it all away?."
"But the Archons will surely return and..." Julius said but Sorlain cut him off "The Archons are dead." shocked, Julius continued "There will still be others and you need us." "No we don't." " If you do not comply we will use force. Your defense ring won't hold up against the might of the entire New Earth Fleet." Julius smiled at his checkmate. Sorlain returned the smile "True, but remember the unlikely allies I talked about?" Alarms blared around Julius as several massive ships appeared around his fleet. Another holo-specter of a tall green eyed human appeared, "This is High Captain Carvos Ultren of the Grand Alliance. Stand down or you will be obliterated". Sorlain's smile grew "Carvos's people were the ones who helped us defeat the Archons on Terra as they too had lost their home to them. Together we rallied other races and ended the Archon warmachine once and for all. What you threaten now is a founding race of the Grand Alliance. Any attack on us is an attack on them. Now you will return to New Earth and tell them we are independent. If they wish to negotiate a mutually beneficial alliance or join the GA, that can be arranged. Else we advice you keep to your sector and cease hostility on us or our allies unless you wish for a war you cannot win. And we call our home Terra. Earth was the name we used before we liberated it from the Archons"
Julius could feel his face getting red while looking at his crew on the bridge he said "Signal a retreat." Looking back at Sorlain and Carvos " This is not over" his anger was barely contained as his fleet made the jump back to New Earth to report his failure.
"Carvos alert the council. Tell them to increase defenses and have several fleets patrol the solar system especially on our colonies." Sorlain said, "I have a feeling this isn't over."
​ edit: had to fix a typo | The Secretary for Defence looked out of the flagship's bridge. Formerly from the Navy, he had seen and read about how the human defence forces had evolved quickly over a matter of centuries. Space was the ocean in which they sailed, not water. The Air Force no longer primarily flew in the air, though atmospheric operations were still possible. The Army had become more dynamic to suit the needs of fighting in all terrains. A flotilla of spacecraft, backed up by fighter craft capable of space and atmospheric dogfighting, and entire divisions of soldiers re-trained for Earth combat, were waiting for the signal. Humanity was finally ready.
He reflected on the stories of the humans left on Earth to fight and die. It had been said that there was no chance for them; that these were truly the scum of the planet who wouldn't be missed. The jokes abounded that some politicians and entertainers were among them, but those were among the first to buy tickets for the escape craft. Those surface-dwellers were as good as dead. The initial intelligence reports, however, reported that there was still human activity on the planet. The Joint Chiefs of Staff concluded that the aliens had most likely kept humanity alive as a slave race; which in turn became potent propaganda for the humans who had escaped. Every soldier, sailor and spaceman was boiling with rage and empathy for the slaves on Earth. They were ready to take back what was theirs.
He turned on his heel, and went to his personal landing craft. One more chance for the aliens. It wouldn't be ethical to attack without declaring war, even if there was no more Geneva Convention to govern that.
Sergeant Juliet was confused. She certainly wouldn't have expected a call from... Spaceport Clearance Network, asking her for her clearance code. Of course she wouldn't have had an answer, and replied as best as she could: Human Warship inbound. Requesting spaceport clearance. She wouldn't have expected it to be approved. It was. She immediately reported it to her superior, but had her own mixed thoughts about it. There were so many layers of leadership that a report like that needed to go through; it was quite plainly frustrating to have to wait in orbit for this long.
Eventually, there was a response from the higher leadership. The Secretary for Defence himself would be going down planetside, and his personal craft needed a communicator. She volunteered herself.
"Welcome to Earth. It is my pleasure to finally see our brothers and sisters who escaped into the stars so many centuries ago." Their representative was cordial enough in greeting them. Flanked by powered armour exoskeletons, he - or she - calmly shook hands with the Secretary of Defence. Compared to the Secretary, who was bulky and muscular after years and years of fighting and training, the being before them was lithe and slim. She stood a head shorter than the Secretary, who stared through her with his hard blue eyes.
Sergeant Juliet saw it all from the cockpit. She wasn't invited to the feast, as they needed a duty communicator to alert the Flotilla if things went south. But she didn't mind, so long as they brought nice foods back to her. That is, if Earth had kept the nice parts of its culture. The history books had made a big deal of Earth cuisine.
The Secretary of Defence, accompanied by the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff and the Defence Forces Sergeant Major, were escorted into the room by the representative. They walked through a hallway dedicated to human achievements, both past and present. [A film depicted the adventures of a bespectacled hunter](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/9jo10z/wp_it_has_been_5_years_since_the_alien_invasion/e6twvg7/?context=3), helped by a woman who looked suspiciously like the Earth representative. Lithe figure, with short black hair. The command team assumed that was what women on Earth looked like now; it was a practical look after all. They had bigger fish to fry, especially the celebrations and peace negotiations. The re-migration back to Earth was another concern for the government on Earth-II.
At dinner, they had to explain why an entire Flotilla waited above in orbit. The representative certainly looked convinced, but at the same time she gave the impression that she was in control of the session. This confused the command team, but they played along. Was she secretly an alien? This was too good to be true. The models didn't indicate any chance for the ragtag survivors left on Earth to have survived this long.
"Ma'am, hostile forces opening fire. Surface-to-orbit missile has been locked on. Surface-to-orbit missile away. Impact timing 10 minutes," the armour suit warbled. The command team's suspicions were confirmed, but they were nonetheless shocked to hear the fact. The Earth representative's pupils glowed yellow and her forked tongue revealed itself briefly in surprise. But just as instantly, she had control of the situation once more. Pressing a few buttons on her wrist controller, the armour suits remotely switched on, and locked on to the commanders of Earth-II as she walked out.
Juliet knew the rumors were true. Those weren't really humans on Earth, and even if they were, they certainly weren't friendly. Her heart had sunk when the enemy contact report had been sent; the aliens had learned human language and prepared a whole contingency for disguising themselves as humans to dupe those who had returned. As she heard the first explosion, she immediately alerted the Flotilla. Activating the autopilot, she escaped as the explosion consumed more of the building.
Perhaps it was indeed unwise to place all the highest commanders in the same room where they got assassinated. Definitely it was unwise for the Flotilla commander to immediately order an orbital bombardment when the contact report revealed those were the aliens on Earth, and not the victorious humans. However, if she remembered the old history books, was that not how the war started for what used to be the USA? A surprise attack on the Navy that the country recovered from, and eventually won.
She could only hope this time would be the same. | 2018-09-29T04:31:25 | 2018-09-29T03:35:21 | 240 | 51 |
[WP] Earth is doomed in a matter of years, but you are bestowed with a mystical dagger that causes anyone killed by it to instantly resurrect on an alternate Earth that does not share the same fate. In one world you are revered as a hero, on the other the most notorious serial killer of all time. | Humanity clung to any semblance of hope as the plague descended upon the few of us left.
20 million had died in the first year alone. In the years following another 40 million would fall victim to what was simply referred do as “blue death.” What made it so terrifying was how quickly it evolved. We couldn’t cure it, but we could prevent it.
It’s been nearly 40 years since we began vaccinating survivors and our children. Governments had made the vaccination mandatory, but now, years later those same children we had saved would go on to say the vaccination had unintended consequences, aside from the obvious blue tint to the skin.
Although entirely unproven this new generation claimed the vaccine caused a much higher risk of diabetes. Sure cases had increased since we began vaccinating but the correlation does not mean it’s the cause.
The new generation in power stupidly gave people the choice to vaccinate their children. It was obvious how quickly this uninformed rumor had spread. Many children no longer had their blue tint. It wasn’t long before the inevitable happened.
Cases of blue death began popping up all over the globe. Despite all our research the monster had returned bearing its fangs. Researchers couldn’t get ahead of it.
Many turned to religion to escape the reality of our situation. Belief that beyond this doomed world existed another one. Perfect. Free of suffering. A hopeless prayer.
Still, as I waited for humanity to destroy itself I needed to occupy the time. I was curious what these people saw. Why they grasped for something they could not see. I began to study religion relentlessly. Not any one in particular, but anything I could get my hands on. Through all of the muck I came across a diamond. Sitting patiently in the dirt as if it were waiting to be found. Something so simple it was easily overlooked.
I discovered a sort of roadmap within the texts on Norse mythology. A golden staircase if you will to what they referred to as Valhalla. The only requirement was an honorable death by sword. It did not discriminate. Not by race, gender, or ideals.
I had no proof. Only a gut feeling and confidence in my research. I walked outside to my shed. Bullets wouldn’t do. They weren’t personal enough. There was no honor in death by an enemy you can’t see.
I didn’t exactly own a sword but I could certainly find something. I would save as many as I could. Emergency services were so busy trying to contain outbreaks that I could probably go a few weeks before they noticed the murders were linked.
“I’ll save as many as I can.”
I picked up the old dagger and stumbled toward the town. | The dagger shines in the light, gleaming as the moonlight trickles down to the ground. I sheath it back into its holder, the mystical item glowing as always. *Blood dripping silently down my hands.*
The Earth was always doomed. From the start. Ever since the rise of humanity it was already degrading. While the earth slipped into the cracks of demise, we humans plundered it, not knowing the repercussions. Some argued for us to stop, it was not to late to save the planet, to save humanity from it’s own demise. I was one of those few good people. I told others to listen.
*They did not.*
I run swiftly down the street, eyes darting around, searching for the next person to liberate.
*Or maybe my next victim*
It seems weird, the feeling I mean, of taking a life. The question of morality lingers at the back of my head.
It all seems surreal, how this happened to me, a simple archaeologist. One day I had a dream, a vision of the dagger. It’s smooth razor sharp edges calling me. On my next expedition, I found it buried underground in a burial room. Ancient runes adorning the walls. I picked up the blade, still sharp after all these years.
The dagger does something to a person. Does something *otherworldly*, as if the *soul itself is sucked out* and teleported somewhere else. I don’t know where, but I do know it’s somewhere better than earth.
I don’t have any reassurances, maybe I’ve done all these killings for no purpose, maybe it’s all been in vain, but I *feel* this is the right thing to do. I *know* it is. Humanity must be saved, and that saviour is me.
My footsteps quicken as I hear another person. In this small town on the outskirts of Europe, It’s not hard to find villagers I can save. After the years, I learned to limit the people I brought to the new world. The rich and greedy have nothing to contribute to the new world.
The numbers are a blur. How many have I killed?
*Hundreds?, Thousands? I don’t dare ask myself *
I crawl around the back of one of the houses and peer through the window. I see the man now, late 40s, averagely tall, brown hair with saggy dark eyes. I wonder to myself whether this man has a family, has friends, perhaps children. Perhaps I am unrighteously taking away his life from them. *Does it even matter?* He seems to be working, and I glance closer. He is sketching, a drawing of a child. I force myself to keep looking. He is turned away from me now, an opportunity which I take. In one swift motion, I climb through the door, unsheathe the dagger, and stab him in the back.
No sound escapes his body. Eerie silence fills the night. The man stays upright for a split second, still conscious.
*A second that echoes into eternity*
The man slumps down. Dead.
Another life saved.
The dagger doesn’t need to kill the person. It sucks the life out of them anyway. That’s how it saves. That’s how I save.
*Saving?, is that what you call the mass genocide you have done?*, The whispers in my head growing louder and louder, like a cyclone of emotions, filling every crack in my mind, until they all stop, and all I hear is deafening silence.
I can’t bear to live with the pain I’ve caused. The lives taken. All I can do is take one more life, one more person. The people on the other side may see me as a hero, but here I am a fugitive. A Criminal. A murderer.
*Maybe the ones I’ve saved don’t even realise I’ve saved them.*
All these atrocities I’ve done, all the lives lost, are actually lives gained, I try to tell myself. But even though I know I am doing this for good, I still feel in the wrong, ashamed.
Women and children, saved by my hand,
*Women and children, slaughtered by my blade.*
Perhaps maybe the dagger hasn’t sucked the life out of the ones I’ve killed, but maybe it’s been sucking out *my life*.
I feel the earth tremble, realization striking me. *”This must be it”* I whisper silently. The earth was doomed from the start, but perhaps I’ve made my mark on the lives of others, and this world.
I look down on the blade, glimmering in the moonlight. I don’t even know if all I’ve done was worth it. I don’t even know why I did it. It’s all a blur.
Buildings are starting to crumble as the shaking grows more intense. I almost stumble. Pulling out the blade, I prepare for the worst.* “It’s time”*
* I toss it aside*
I bring out the pistol in my holster, and shoot myself hit the head.
==========================
This is my first time doing this, comments would be appreciated.
Thanks for reading. | 2018-10-15T05:29:48 | 2018-10-15T05:18:12 | 91 | 45 |
[WP] When you sleep, instead of dreaming, you see a list of tips and tricks that will help you the next day. One night, you only see one tip, “Always aim for the head”. | I yawned and stretched as I pushed myself off the ground. Hate sleeping without a bed, I never get any sort of decent rest. Those damn tips I see in my sleep have never really been helpful, I've always sort of tuned them out and done my own thing. Everything sort of works out in the end... well, except for... a lot of stuff. My dad died because I didn't heed one once. My brother left the family a long time ago, and I've often wondered if I could have convinced him to come back and live with us again... but it never seemed to work out. He's just too different, I suppose.
Today's I almost instantly dismissed. "Aim for the head"? How much use could that be? Wasn't like I was going to use any sort of ranged weapons that meant I'd have to aim something at someone's head.
... But as I stared horrified at Thanos, laughing mockingly rather than dying where he stood from the axe I had just embedded in his chest...
I knew I should have listened.
Edit: a word
Edit 2: thank you guys so much for the positive feedback! This is my first WP so I was kind of nervous, but I'm glad you like it. | ######[](#dropcap)
Heather's eyes popped open. She pressed a finger to her forehead, saying a silent spell to ease her migraine. Her dreams were always accompanied by an aura, and yesterday night's left her feeling like a freezing hand had crawled up her back while she was sleeping. She bit her lip. It definitely wasn't a good sign.
 
The corridors were eerily empty. Halls that should have been filled with students were devoid of a single living soul. Heather clutched her book bag closer to her chest. What was happening?
"Hello?" Her voice echoed through the halls. Her soft-soled boots were nearly silent on the tile floor, but she couldn't help the feeling that she was being watched. "Abigail? Cory?" She called out her best friends' names, but there was no reply. It was a bad idea coming to school today. She should've stayed in the dorms. Maybe she had missed a memo about a break or something.
"Over here!" A voice hissed. She whipped around to see Cory's blonde hair poking out from around a door. "Quickly!"
Heather dashed towards the classroom. Cory dragged her to the back and pulled her down so they were kneeling behind a line of desks. "What's going on?" she whispered.
"There's a Vexspawn in the building. Everyone's in hiding. Of course you would be late." He tapped her on the forehead a little harder than was necessary.
Her eyes widened. "Vexspawn?" Her voice rose.
He brought a finger to her lips desperately, his gaze whipping about. Then he nodded.
"Wait, but how did a Vexspawn get in here? I thought they usually frequented woods." They had learned about the creatures in their biology classes, but she'd never thought they'd actually encounter one. Vexspawns were terrifying creatures, not because they had a grotesque body in and of themselves, but because they could take on different forms. Shapeshifters. And no one really knew how to deal with them because their sightings were quite rare. She pulled a dagger out of her boot.
"What are you doing?" Cory asked, looking at her strangely. He eyed the dagger warily.
She shook her head. She didn't know either. She'd done it subconsciously. Her father had taught her how to use dagger when she was younger, and although she hadn't had much need for them after learning magic, she always kept one in each boot. Just in case.
A scream sounded, echoing through the hallway. Heather leapt to her feet, but Cory dragged at her arm.
"We can't just do nothing," she said. "We have to go help out!"
"The teachers will take care of it. We just need to stay safe," Cory hissed.
"Heather!"
Heather froze. Was that...that was Cory's voice. She blinked. But Cory was right next to her.
"Heather!" the voice called out again. She looked down at Cory, who was sitting there wide-eyed, staring at her. 'Vexspawn,' he mouthed. She let him drag her down, more reactively than of her own will. She couldn't hear anything over her heart pounding in her throat.
Then a shadow appeared in the doorway. And even with the window blinds closed, with the small amount of light streaming through, she could see him clearly enough through the desk legs she was hiding under. She swallowed.
It was Cory. And he was staring not at her, but at the Cory standing next to her.
***
[Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/9yv0o7/wp_when_you_sleep_instead_of_dreaming_you_see_a/ea4x09x/) is below!
r/AlannaWu | 2018-11-20T16:11:12 | 2018-11-20T13:55:53 | 835 | 482 |
[WP] The nightmare has come true; you've woken up back in sixth grade with your memories and knowledge of everything that happened since then intact. You start staring at your classmates around you, aware of how they end up. Your teacher asks you what's wrong as you start weeping. | No no no... not this again... please god... not this.
My wide eyes darted around the room. It was just like I remembered it— everything from the posters, decorations on the walls, to the cozy reading nook in the back of the room. Where the pillows always that big?
At the sound of a familiar voice, my attention turned to the front of the room. Mrs. Sanderson? My stomach dropped as I saw the date written in the top right corner of the board. October 31.
My throat tightened and I failed miserably at choking back a sob. Mrs. Sanderson stopped and looking at me with concern.
“Allie? Is everything alright?”
Tears were flowing freely I’m now, I couldn’t breath. Not this again... please god... not this.
She walked over to my desk, the eyes of my peers following. I looked around at each of them.
The last time I saw Emily, she had three bullets in her chest.
The last time I saw James, he was choking on his own blood.
The last time I saw Deven, he was crawling across the floor trying to hide. The trail of blood from his dragging leg was big enough for me— even as a 6th grader— to know it wasn’t going to be ok.
“Allie?” Mrs. Sanderson’s pulled my attention back to her face. “Come on sweetie, let’s go out to the hallway.”
My entire body was shaking, I was fully sobbing now. I had finally moved past this— I can’t relive this. I can’t handle this.
The door to the classroom clicked shut, she crouched down, hands on my shoulders. “What’s going on?”
I looked into her eyes, concern etched into every line of her face. “Someone’s going to come here today.” The concern on her face mixed with new confusion. “Someone with guns... he’s going to kill us.” I choked on every breath and sob, fighting to get the words out.
“How do you know?” She was panicking, but trying to stay calm for my sake. “Allie... where did you hear this?”
I couldn’t manage anything else, I dropped to my knees and cried harder than I ever had before.
Mrs. Sanderson gave me a last look and took off down the hall. The main office was around the corner, by the entrance of the school. I looked away as her hair flashed around the corner. Was it enough? Was there time to stop this?
Shots rang out from the direction she ran off to, the sound thundering down the halls.
Please God... not this again... anything but this. | This was the last time I ever saw them -- will ever see them I suppose. I can't remember what stupid reason I had to be crying before I woke up, but now the tears are real. I didn't necessarily like all of them, but it's hard to care about petty school squabbles... Even the worst of them don't deserve what I know is coming. Even now I can make out a gentle rumbling that is getting ever louder by the second. The sound of angry shouting from the courtyard below makes its way into the classroom through an open window. On queue, the alarm begins to scream from the hallway. I become aware of the teacher standing next to me as she shouts over the alarm to get the attention of the rest of the class.
​
"Please stay calm everyone. I wasn't told of any fire drill happening today so we should assume it is real until told otherwise. This is no reason to panic, just do the same thing we've done in every drill, double file please." Tentatively everyone gets up and heads to the door, but I remain frozen. The piercing sound of the alarm has me paralyzed in horror as I desperately try to hold on to every second and stop the inevitable. But the seconds keep passing. Time keeps rushing on. I realize the teacher is shaking my shoulder, telling me that I have to go. My mind is elsewhere and my feet decide to obey the teacher's plea's without argument.
​
We slowly make our way down the staircase to find that the rest of the school has already been tightly packed into the courtyard. I see some students lifting their friends onto their shoulder to get a better view and see when the principle will release them back to the relative comfort of the air-conditioned classrooms. The principle doesn't seem to be paying the least bit of attention the crowd however, as he's too busy shouting at the uniformed man who's sight instantly fills me with dread to the point where I think I might throw up. My teacher turns to me, clearly doing a bad job to hiding the nervous look on her face, "Wait here." she says. "I'll go find out what is going on." and with that she disappears into the crowd.
​
The argument is getting louder now and I see small groups of soldiers trickling into the courtyard, forming a line a few meters behind the principle and the officer. Suddenly there is a collective gasp as the principle is thrown to the ground and the officer begins to strike him with a baton. Within seconds several of the older students rush forward and step in front of the principle while another group drags him back into the crowd. As he passes by me I catch a glimpse of him as he passes by me and have to immediately turn away to stop from puking. His face is almost completely unrecognizable with all the blood now covering it. One eye is shut and leaking what seems to be a mixture of puss and blood.
​
I turn back to see the officer ordering the soldiers back, and can almost hear a sigh of relief coming from the entire crowd. Everyone seems to think they are safe now -- can't they realize that rumbling is still getting close? Finally my voice comes back to me and I scream at the top of my voice, "RUN!" But I'm not the only one screaming. The tank is finally in view.
​
A great panic overtakes the crowd and nearly everyone is running back towards the main building, but as I look back there is a soldier standing behind the glass entrance doors, looking smugly outward as he fits his metal baton in between the door handles, blocking anyone from getting in. People are pounding on doors, begging them to break, but I know they won't make it in time. Only a minute more and the shots start. Every single time it's the same. I've never learnt whether anyone besides me makes it out. I know theres nothing I can do to stop it, but I'm tired of running. I take one last look at the path that takes me out, then turn away and head towards the soldiers.
​
As I push my way against the crowd, several other students catch my eye and must realize what I'm doing because they also turn back and head towards the soldiers. Within the minute I make it out of the crowd along with a dozen others who have joined me and together we face down the line of tanks that have formed up opposite us. Out of the top the center tank I see the officer that beat up the principle. He shouts an order and the line of tanks begins to accelerate forward.
​
I look down the line of students that has formed up next to me and a few of them nod back in understanding. As one we link arms and turn to face down the advancing row of tanks. If this is to be the end of democracy, we'll go down together, in defiance, not with a backs turned trying to flee. This must the reason I kept being brought back to this moment. The officer's eyes meet mine and we hold each others gaze for a second -- then he shouts a final order and the last thing I hear is the roar of the machines guns as they let loose on the crowd. | 2019-08-18T07:31:39 | 2019-08-18T07:28:26 | 562 | 54 |
[WP] "So to walk on water you used..." "Anti-gravity boots." "Healing the sick?" "Portable nanobot medbay" "And I guess you used a matter converter for turning water to wine?" "Nah I just swapped the jars when they weren't looking." | “Why didn’t you just use the powers I gave you? You *are* the son of God.”
“I don’t have to do everything you say, Dad. I’m not you.”
God shook his head. “Well maybe you could try to be a little more like me every once in a while. Did you know they started another whole religion based off of you?”
Jesus looked up, trying hard to conceal his excitement. “Really? Wait, how long have I been gone?”
“It’s about a two thousand year journey back here, Jesus. You’ve been in cryo-sleep. Did you pay attention at all in Elisha’s astrophysics class?”
“Dad, you and I both know Elisha’s boring as sin.” Jesus looked out the cloud. “So are they like worshiping me back there?”
“Like a lot, son,” God returned, frustrated. “I spend ten thousand years teaching them how to win the game, and you wreck it in 30 years.”
“Well maybe I’m just a little bit more likable then you, Dad,” Jesus retorted. “I mean, I didn’t make the earth swallow them up just because they used they used the wrong balsa wood on your temple. I mean seriously, Dad, you have to chill out!”
“If you don’t punish them, they’ll never learn!”
“Ya, but getting swallowed by the earth is a little more than a punishment.”
“The correct balsa wood for the correct project is a very important lesson, Jesus.”
Just then a loud explosion shook the clouded city. In a flash of light, a robed figure appeared as if from nowhere. “Don’t worry, Dad! I fixed everything!”
God put his head in his hands. “No. No you didn’t.”
“Paul!” Jesus ran over and gave his brother a hug. “How’d you do?”
“Well I had to clean up your mess, bro,” Paul joked. “They were all scared you were gonna annihilate them or something if they didn’t preach, so I told them it’s all cool. God’s love, man. Doesn’t matter what you do.”
“Well, it does matter what you do,” God said, interjecting. “For thousands of years, I taught them how important it was to grow your beard, use the correct balsa wood, plow your fields every third year, the dangers of shellfish, and then Jesus you come in and say they just have to love each other, and then Paul, you come in and say they don’t have to do anything at all! And that’s just not true! You mix your fabrics, you go to hell. It’s just that simple!”
“Calm down, Dad,” Paul said sarcastically. “Yikes. No wonder everyone’s afraid of you. They love me!”
“Well then maybe you two boys can explain to them how much you’re loved, while they’re burning in hell because they shaved their beard.”
“Yikes, Dad,” Jesus mocked. “Still don’t understand why you can’t just, you know, not send people to hell.”
“Well one day when you’re older, and you have a boss to answer to, then maybe you’ll understand.” | ‘So how does this make you feel?
‘About......’
‘The fact that you have ruined one of his creations by telling a primitive race that you were god’
‘Son of god’ he interrupts, ‘ I led them to believe, no I Hinted....yes, I hinted I might be the son of god’
‘You may want to look at this before you say anything else.’ A bright brilliant blue light shines in front of him in the shape of a.....
‘What’s this?.....a book? I’ll just get it verbally from that...,’
‘Open it, genius’
‘Oh my god! I’m fucking famous!’
‘How did you come up with the name Jesus?’
‘ I didn’t. It’s really close to the nick name they gave me because they couldn’t pronounce Steve. There must have been a typo in the first one. You know a copy of a copy......’
‘As your attorney I advise you to run. Run far, run fast just go!’
‘Fuck that! Have you seen what these people think of me? I am a god to them!
‘Son of god. Your words not mine’
‘Fine. Son of god. But choosing between office custodian or son of god I’m going with the latter’
‘ you destroyed that little project he was working on.’
‘The simulation? There are dozens if not hundreds. we are all tired of hearing about the simulations’
‘Maybe, but it was his first. What you refer to as Genesis in your book’
Steve starts to laugh, ‘that Phil Collins is one hell of a drummer. Plus the guy can sing at the same time’
‘Laugh now, oh holy one but its creator........’
Steve interrupts again, ‘is a ten year old pain in the ass. That stuff shouldn’t have been at the office. Listen, I didn’t mean.....wait, you said destroyed. I didn’t destroy anything. I may have played god to what he dubbed the ‘tards. His simulation of those creatures aren’t even part of the main experiment. From what I hear he just through the garbage and left overs from ideas that he didn’t like just in case they made it that far. Look at the file,”Planet ‘tard (bipods with boners)”
‘It was son of god, junior. Keep reading through the book.’
‘I left after the asshats nailed me to the wooden thing. I took a nap and when I woke up everyone was freaked the fuck out. So I said something like gotta bail and came back here’
‘Close. You said you would return’
‘ I said it to be polite. Did I mention being nailed to wood? Let me say it slower. They drove long metal spikes through my body! It’s like telling a heavy girl you just screwed that you’d call her. Trust me it was no biggie’
‘ your no biggie is about to ruin all of its creators....’
‘Will you stop with the creator shit. His name is Kevin. The bosses 10 year old nephew doing a science fair project! This creator business is giving me the Willies’
‘As you wish, my lord. May I continue?’
‘If I say no will it matter?’
‘Not in the least’
‘Then continue’
‘As I was saying, master Kevin’s science project was compromised after you told the ‘tards that you would return.’
‘How?’
‘Seeing that you told them of the one true god, who I assume you meant master Kevin’
‘Pretty good touch, huh?
‘The tards spent the next two thousand years telling everyone of you and Kevin and if others wouldn’t believe they killed them or made them wish they were dead’
‘Nice’
‘I’m not finished. More people have died in the name of Kevin than anything else in the simulation.’
‘Go Kevin’ Steve says under his breath
‘So other cultures made their own Kevin’s because somehow they didn’t care for yours.’
‘He is quite the handful’
‘Now the War of the kevins is breaking out on the tard planet. That isn’t the problem though. There is a faction of the tards that doesn’t believe in Kevin and they have been reaching out to space.’
‘Space?’
‘Yes, space. Funny enough they think the distance between each simulation is called space’
‘Well technically their right. Space in our giant freezer. Between the orange juice and frozen waffles.....is the tard planet.’
‘They have been reaching out to talk to the juice.’
‘They are crafty little fuckers aren’t they’
‘These crafty fuckers as you call them have accidentally contacted them. The main experiment. The whole reason for the freezer full of plastic bags of swamp water . They sent a record towards the juice telling them about Kevin.....and for some reason Bob Dylan’
‘Hold on. I have the answer’
Steve goes to the large freezer. Hepretends to trip pulling the freezers plug from the electrical outlet. He opens the door just a crack and says in a deep mighty voice , ‘Kevin said, let there be light’
‘And the light was good’ adds the voice of the attorney, the electronic assistant in Steve’s phone. Steve turned off the light to the break room. As he walks into the dark hall, he taps his ear twice, ‘attorney play some Phil Collins’
‘As you wish, Jesus’ the attorney says sarcastically
They both laugh
‘I can hear them calling in the air tonight.....’ the phantom voice of Phil Collins starts to sing.
‘You know the sarcasm of your song choice is not lost on me, right?’ Steve’s voice echoes in the dark hallway
‘I had faith in you’ attorney said, trying not to laugh.
From the dark void only their laughter fills the silence. | 2020-01-06T19:47:27 | 2020-01-06T18:54:18 | 96 | 15 |
[WP] The super villain shook with rage as they stared at the security footage. "He's not even a real superhero with superpowers! He's just some loser who's really good at throwing knives at people without killing them!" | I like knives.
I like looking at them, collecting them, keeping them in tip-top shape… And I like to stab people with them, and see blood oozing from their wounds, and color draining from their faces, and tears pouring from their eyes as they beg and plead for their lives.
The teacher said it’s wrong to stab people. So did the police. So did my therapist. But if it’s so bad… Why does it feel so good to do?
I can’t stab random people. I can’t stab people I hate. But the villains… and their minions and their supporters and their scientists and their loved ones… I can stab them, slice them, dice them, and throw my knives at them…
As long as they aren’t dead after I had my fun, they’re fair game. People even praise me for it, calling me a hero, saying I saved the day… by making people bleed.
How wonderful. Truly, wonderful, these people they called “supervillains.”
I wish everyone were a supervillain—but no such luck. So I roam the streets, and wait in the dark, and sharpen my knives, and wait, and wait, and wait… for the next supervillain to show up, so my knives can taste blood, and I can watch them bleed, and beg, and cry…
As long as they don’t die, I’m a hero.
“You! You there, Red Ripper! I know your secret ‘hero’! You don’t have any superpowers! Not one! So today I, Dr. Grime, shall usher in your doom! Now, suffer and die!”
Tonight, my waiting paid off… and my knives shall taste blood once more.
God bless, supervillains!
I wish everybody was a supervillain! | #Doctor Doomsday
"Play it again" I demanded.
Stephan complied, rewinding the security footage from our latest mission. I saw two members of the Doomsquad team advancing down the hallway, and knew the third was camouflaged somewhere in the frame. The trio halted, probably due to some sound that wasn't captured by the building's cameras. I saw Avatar crouch into a combat position, while Steven stepped behind the big bruiser. Stacy remained hidden, only visible by the slight shimmer of her hair against a window.
A blur flew into frame from the left side of the screen, striking Avatar in the shoulder. The former hero clutched his arm in surprise, and return fire.
Literally.
Fire spewed forth from Avatar's free hand, filling the hallway with boiling flames. The camera struggled to adjust the lighting levels as hell was unleashed. It finally caught up when Avatar finished the blast, and switched places with Steve.
I saw Stacy emerge from her camouflage and rush to Avatar, attempting to provide first aid to the wounded man. He tried to shrug her off, but Stacy persisted.
Steven stepped into the hallway and threw out his hands, like a crossing guard telling a car to stop. Nothing appeared to be happening, but I knew Steve was using his power dampening ability to disarm the unseen super hero.
A second knife flew into view, striking Steven in the thigh. He collapsed in pain, clutching his leg as he fell to the floor.
Stacy must have heard him at this point, since she abandoned Avatar and rushed to Steven's side. She applied pressure to his wound, but quickly let go as another knife flew towards her. She vanished into camouflage, presumably making her escape.
I turned to look at Stacy beside me. Her usually vibrant pink hair was currently the deepest black color I had ever seen.
"Steve tried to halt his powers, but he still threw those knives with pinpoint accuracy?" I asked, trying to keep my usual villainous tone out of the question. Stacy had been through enough these past few days, she didn't need any additional stress.
She nodded.
"Did Steve's powers fail? Did he miss, or have any interference?" I asked, pressing the questions further.
Stacy shook her head again. "He just... didn't have powers." She said weakly.
"So that man..." I began.
"Is just really good at throwing knives." Stacy finished.
I turned back to the video, and indicated for Stephan to continue.
The footage resumed, showing Avatar and Steven both clutching their knife wounds. Moments later, the man came into view. He held a throwing knife in each hand, and dozens more secured to a tactical vest. The blades glinted in the light cast by the errant flames from Avatar's attack.
The footage went blank.
I turned back to Stacy. "Do you know where they were taken after this?"
Stacy nodded.
I turned back to Stephan once again. "Stephan, assemble the prison break logistical planning team. Have everyone meet me in conference room one."
I turned, and strode from the room. "Stacy, with me." I called over my shoulder. I heard her small footsteps as she tried to catch up to me.
"We're going to need some help on the extraction team for this one." I told her, striding towards my office. "Steven and Avatar are two of my best, and that knife guy took them both down. I'm putting you in charge of recruiting the additional manpower."
Stacy nodded. "Affirmative. Do you have someone in mind?"
I stopped and turned, startling Stacy into another camouflage state. I spoke to the seemingly empty spot that I knew she still occupied.
"How's your relationship with Steven going?" I asked.
Stacy stuttered, still invisible. "It-, uh, good, I mean, well, its going well. Why?"
I cackled. "Stacy, I think it's time you met your boyfriend's father."
She gasped, and re-appeared in the hallway a few steps away from where I had thought she was. "You mean..."
I cackled once again. "It's finally time to recruit WalkMan to the Doomsquad."
/r/SlightlyColdStories | 2022-08-03T08:37:02 | 2022-08-03T08:11:53 | 1,053 | 278 |
[WP] A nerdy girl goes on a blind date. She's surprised when the date is the bitchiest cheerleader in her school. | "I promise, it'll be great," Lily said after Hannah expressed her reluctance to go. Hannah sighed, and nodded. She couldn't back out now anyway. She began having a thumb war with herself, and noticed the butterflies in her stomach as Lily finished straightening her hair.
"Okay, done!" Lily announced. Hannah put her glasses back on and looked in the mirror. With a little more makeup than usual and a dress, she had to admit she looked pretty nice. Even so, she was very nervous. Hannah wasn't exactly the type to date. Lily sensed this nervousness and decided she would try to relax her friend, "Hannah, don't worry, I'm sure she'll love you. It'll be fine."
Hannah nodded again and glanced at her phone. It was 6:48pm, and she was to meet her date at 7. She informed Lily and left. She was walking to the meeting place, as it wasn't very far from her home. She got to the fast food restaurant in time and sat at a table by herself to wait. After a few minutes, when she was staring at her phone screen, she heard footsteps. Her stomach was doing somersaults.
"Hannah?" She looked up, but was not expecting what she saw: Ellie Reynolds, a cheerleader from her school. She wondered what the hell Lily had been thinking, but remembered she didn't go to their school.
"Ellie?"
"You're my date?" she asked in disbelief.
"I guess so," Hannah replied. She couldn't believe her best friend would match her with someone who is such a, well, a bitch.
After a moment of silence, Ellie sat down next to her. "I guess I can give you a shot," she grinned.
Hannah thought that maybe she was wrong to judge simply for the fact that she was a cheerleader.
Ellie grabbed for her hand and Hannah felt her heart flutter. | Susan was surprised Rose had ever wanted to be friends with her. Last time one of the popular girls talked to her, she ended up naked in a cornfield in the middle of the night. But she had been sitting with Rose at lunch for almost a year now, and nothing bad had happened yet. On this evening, however, she would be convinced the whole thing was just a huge joke, and this was its culmination.
"So you really have a licence, but not a car?"
"Yeah. My parents can't afford it."
"Why not just use their car then, you don't need your own."
"I mean they can't even afford one car."
Rose was silent after this. Susan was used to that. It seemed that the popular kids couldn't conceive of a world where someone doesn't have a car. Nonetheless, she was thankful Rose had driven her here. It was her first date, at age 16. This was pretty atypical, considering most of the girls at her high schools hadn't even been virgins since the 8th grade. Susan was concerned and intrigued by this.
"Pick me up at 9:30, okay?" Susan said as she closed the passenger-side door. This was met with a nod and a smile from Rose. Then she drove off.
Rose approached the building, full of anxiety and anticipation. Not only was this her first ever date, it was a blind date. For the first time ever, Susan had made a big deal about her appearance, not that it was her greatest feature, or even close to that. Her lips felt and tasted weird with gloss on them.
She hesitantly approached the glass doors, then pushed them open, her heart pounding. Not five minutes in what was promised to be the greatest day of her life, she was filled with dread at what she saw.
Standing there, just inside the restaurant, was one of the few people she had felt true hatred for. Susan knew she would be paired with one of the more popular kids, and that it would probably be a friend of Rose's, but why him? WHY?
Jake. The head cheerleader, and the only male one. Cheerleaders were infamous for bitchiness, but this was ridiculous. It had to be a sick joke. Rose had to be waiting for her out in front, she had to have turned around and come back. Susan looked behind her, but found only disappointment.
"Well, are you just going to stand there like a dead horse or something? Ughh, come on I've been waiting forever." Jake said, in his characteristic bitchy voice.
Without speaking a word, Susan followed Jake as they were seated by a waitress who seemed to be amused by the pairing. Good. Susan wasn't the only one who thought he was gay.
"So, what are you going to order?" Jake said as they sat down at their table for two. A harmless statement, it still somehow seemed offensive, just because of who said it.
"I don't know, I only just got here," was Susan's reply, in a much more pleasant tone than Jake deserved. With a sigh, she picked up the menu and began to look over it.
"So?" came Jake's piercing voice as they began to eat.
"So what?"
"Aren't you going to compliment me?"
"I thought I was the girl," Susan said bitterly.
"Offensive," was all Jake could say. Then he was silent for some time, ans Susan was glad.
After a good fifteen minutes of eating in silence and letting her emotions fester, Susan decided it was best for her to do something to help her present situation.
"So Jake."
"Ughh, what do you want?"
"Why did you agree to come on this date if you're so obviously gay?"
The look on Jake's face was priceless. If Susan couldn't erase this date from her memory entirely, that would be the one thing she wanted to remember. It was at least ten seconds before Jake responded. "I don't have to take this from you. I am head cheerleader, and you sat at the nerd table until this year. CHECK! You're paying."
"Okay!" Susan agreed cheerily, "but I'm going to the bathroom first."
She walked off to the bathroom, more confident in what she was about to do than she had ever been before. Pushing the window open, she heard a familiar voice behind her.
"How'd the date go?" It was Rose.
"I hate you," said Susan, through gritted teeth.
"No you don't. You know you love me."
"Yeah, I guess you're right."
| 2014-10-11T21:04:53 | 2014-10-11T19:59:04 | 19 | 13 |
[WP] You live in a city full of people with powers (telekinesis, electro kinesis, sensors, etc) and everyone is ranked according to how powerful they but they can kill someone of higher rank and obtain their rank. You are rank #1 but no one knows what your power is
Edit: Thank you all so much for submitting your stories. please do not stop posting and i will not stop reading. my favourites so far have been the coinflip/luck duo and the weak telekinetic that goes for the brain lol love all the spins on powers everyone has | \#21904. That used to be my name, three days ago, and now I'm, well, #1.
No one in the city knows how it happened. The Top 30, the ruling cabal, have absolutely no idea. I still haven't figured it out, either.
All I remember is walking into a meeting where #1 was giving a speech- for the first time, since I'd finally turned 18 and had to follow the city's decrees. He didn't even say a word; he just randomly glared at me, told me to come up to the podium- and, overcome with dread, I did. Then he thrust his dagger toward me.
I closed my eyes and realized he'd held it backwards; the hilt was in my hands. Before I could react, he jerked it back sharply and blood shot out of his chest straight into my face. His power was telepathy, not immortality. I screamed. He was smiling.
He didn't even bother to speak. Nobody else in the room even gasped. I was #1, and they accepted it. They were smiling, too.
I wish I'd been able to figure out what was going on, but I've been around 18 years and I haven't even found out my power. There's no chance of me figuring it out anytime soon, either, since every day I face another challenge. Some are from the remaining Top 30, the ones who weren't at the meeting, and others are just nobodies who think they have a shot because of what happened to me.
Thing is, at all the public challenges, the same thing happens. They come in there grimacing, but when they get up, they use their power against themselves. They all die. Smiling. And the crowd smiles too.
It seems like they all just want me to win. | Crime was at an all time low in the city of New Angeles. Come to think of it, so was tourism and GDP.
Some people credited this to the genius of *Genetevolve Labs* and their breakthroughs in affordable human enhancements. Although, not everyone was pleased with the results. After a session of copying and splicing, it was often several months - or even years - before a patient actually knew what they had gotten themselves into.
For example, there was Nickolette...
After several sessions, and a freak bowling accident, Nickolette had come to the realization that she was telekinetic. She came to appreciate her new-found ability, despite the lifetime ban from *Richie's Bowleramma*. Apparently Richie's insurance refused to pay for the removal of over a thousand bowling pins from the ceiling of the establishment.
Ty was Nickolette's best friend. He had completely given up on genetic therapy until after almost two-years after his last session he stumbled drunk out into a busy roadway and was nearly flattened by a semi truck. Instead, the truck was smashed into oblivion upon striking Ty and the only injury he sustained was permanently soiled underwear.
Then... then there was Larry.
"I can't believe that douchebag is ranked #1 again." said Ty, "I mean, have you ever actually seen the guy do anything?"
"He sits all day in that damn pizza joint downtown eating and drinking." she said. "Wait, I take that back, it can't be *all day* because he only wakes up at 2:00 pm."
"Last time, the asshole didn't even bother changing out of his pajamas. And did you *smell* the guy? I mean who the hell smells like that?" said Ty disgusted.
"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" asked Nickolette.
"We can take him Nicky." said Ty looking over at Nickolette. "With your telekinesis, and my super strength, we could just walk right into that goddamn pizza joint and just take him down to chinatown."
"He'd never even know what hit him." she said with a whimsical look in her eye.
*One hour later at Zak's Pizza and Wings...*
"Oh shit, that's hilarious!" said Nickolette as she reached over and squeezed Larry's arm at the bar.
Ty sat on the other side of Larry and downed his second pint of beer as he slapped Larry on the back.
"Jesus that's some funny shit man, you are just too cool." he said to the overweight man with the shaggy unkempt hair, still in his bathrobe.
A man with a grimy, white shirt and loose fitting necktie approached the patrons at the bar.
"Hey guys, sorry the pizza is taking so long. I don't know what's got into the cooks lately." he said to them.
"Ah, no worries mate." said Larry, "We're in no hurry, take your time. Have another round on me guys!"
"You're too much Larry." said Nickolette.
"You know," Ty began, "my head is a little foggy but I feel like there's something we are forgetting. Like there was a reason we came down here."
"Must not have been too important,eh?" said Nickolette turning her attention back toward Larry, "So what's up with you?"
"Uh, I'm not sure what you mean love." Larry was feeling a bit creeped out at the way she was looking at him.
"You know," she was now slurring her speech, "why are you constantly ranked #1? It doesn't even look like you've had anything tweaked."
"Well," Larry was often reluctant to talk about it, but threw caution to the wind, "I dabbled around with genetic enhancement, but gave up after the results came back from the lab."
"What results?" asked Ty.
"After a few sessions, my body began to emit massive amounts of THC into the environment around me." said Larry.
"What? Holy shit, that explains so much!" said Nickolette.
"Yeah, " said Larry, "I thought about going back and tried to get them to reverse it, but... well... you know, the THC."
Suddenly Nickolette changed the subject, "I got an idea!" she said. "Let's go bowling!"
| 2014-12-18T14:20:18 | 2014-12-18T11:53:14 | 171 | 81 |
[WP] A peaceful alien race is besieged by another race in the same galaxy. As their last planets fall and their home-world comes under threat they do the unthinkable. They ask for aid from the only known creatures more brutal than their foes in exchange for FTL technology. Humans accept the deal. | Guilt, shame, and horror would only begin to describe the things humanity felt when we were hit with the news. The Aliens didn't mince their words.
In short, we were considered the scum of the universe. Deliberately left out to rot, to self destruct, because we had shown a capacity for violence, cruelty, and atrocity unequalled throughout the known universe.
We, the human, were geniuses, but not in the way we expected. Turns out life out there was literally paradise. Apart for a few other species, intelligent life out there had a peaceful and nurturing predisposition. Violent races were quarantined until they either reached enlightenment or self-destructed. None had reached the space age on their own, until now.
The Barzenians, the most violent race after us, were simpleminded beings driven only by war. How they managed to come off their rock was a mystery, but they were now taking over with ease.
Unlike the Barzenians, we have a duality that shows a promise for redemption, although we are capable of untold terror we strive to be better people. This gave them hope and abled them to risk sharing technology and asking us for help.
We, of course, accepted. It didn't take much more than a year to beat them once we had the technology. It was a joke. This was the second most violent race?
Our initial shame turned into comfort, we were overjoyed. We had imagined space to be a scary place, turns out it's fucking rainbows and unicorns - can't be scared if you're the boogeyman. | "Chancellor Ehrbane, please, I am not a violent man."
"*Not a violent man?!*" I spluttered with almost unkept rage, "Your people have laid waste to my kin-kingdom's homeworld. Your men have trodden armoured through the Basilica of Old Truths, the keystone of our culture! Your weapons have destroyed our ancient reliquaries, devastated cities, and erased the history of our forebears! You are callous, you are dishonourable, and you are most *certainly* violent!"
The human in front of me cocked his head in confusion like some kind of pack animal, and quietly chuckled to himself before responding.
"No, Chancellor Ehrbane, I am not a violent man. I am a diplomat, an addition to your entourage, to cross the gap between your wishes and my superiors. My people are fighting a war on your behalf because you could not keep your next-door-neighbours off of your homeworld, and that Basilica was razed to ruin before humanity made planetfall. Those men you accuse me of destroying your world are not mine to command."
I could not believe what this man was saying; I was a Chancellor, a leader of the most sophisticated, proud and fashionable spacefaring civilisation in the spiral arm! How could he bear to stand in my presence without being some kind of mighty leader himself?
"Not... yours to command?" I spoke, somewhat uneasily given the revelation of this being's inferior status. The step backwards I took was instinctive; I could stay too close to an inferior species, especially a specimen of lower class.
The human quite obviously saw my actions and recognised my sense of distaste, sighing as if dealing with a child. "That would be so, Chancellor Ehrbane, not mine to command. My superiors, on the other hand, do command those men, and believe me on this one;" he took a long step closer to me and leaned in as he did so, becoming nauseatingly close to my person, "my superiors are *very violent men indeed*."
To seemingly illustrate his point, another human warship blinked out of slipspace within my homeworld's atmosphere, dangerously so given its vast size, mere miles from the tower I and the lesser human occupied. The gravitational distortion was immediately evident; I could see the seas to the east begin to churn uncontrollably; the earth shook and the sprawling buildings of my serfs below, structures far shoddier than my adamantium spire, began to tumble. The ventral guns of the warship opened up mere minutes later, tearing great holes miles wide into the flesh of my planet and decimating the routing mobs of invaders who, mere weeks earlier, had landed upon my home in grand armies, in serried ranks and with fluttering banners. Despite myself, I wept openly, and screamed aloud at the travesties committed by humanity upon my world. I sank to my knees, overcome with incalculable sorrow, my legs unable to keep me stable given the shaking of the ground beneath me and my emotional state.
The human rocked gently from side to side, moving his centre of mass in time with the swaying of my tower to compensate for the shaking earth. He leant over again and whispered next to my shuddering, curled and embryonic form.
"I am not a violent man, Ehrbane, and neither are you. However, I and my people are strong, your people, and you in particular, are *weak*. We tore our world apart so that we could get our hands upon the slipspace technology *you* offered. Your honeyed words spawned revolution, civil war and despair upon my home. Your world will be torn apart in recompense."
I still lay upon the ground, crying and yelling, as the human got up, sighed again, and began to walk for the staircase, he called over his shoulder as he retired.
"You brought pain to Earth, Ehrbane. You begged my people to rescue you from the invaders, but you did not beg to be rescued from us. Enjoy your world while it lasts, I know my superiors will. This is just the beginning, *the galaxy awaits humanity*!" | 2014-12-26T13:25:59 | 2014-12-26T10:45:23 | 30 | 15 |
[WP] Governments all over the world cease every space program. Ten years later, a rebellious group is about to launch into space and they finds out why space programs ceased. | “Why didn’t they stop us?”
“Hmm?” Pirate Jeron looked up. He was nominally the engineer on this flight, as much as any outfit run by the Pirate Party could have designated roles.
“You heard me, you just don’t want to have this discussion again.”
“It’s been a month, and all I have to talk to is you, the crazy magnate who financed all this, and the voice recognition software designed by a 14 year-old. Of course I don’t want to have this discussion again, but if it’s a choice between that and another discussion on why ‘boobies are kewl’ I’ll take this.”
“Come off it, it has to bother you too. Every nation on earth tracks launches to make sure nothing nuclear lands on their soil. They had to have seen us.”
“Karen, we were going ten times the speed of sound in under a minute. They don’t have the ordinance to stop any target moving that fast out of the gravity well. It wasn’t pleasant to take that many gs, but it kept us from being blown up.”
“What about Star Wars?”
“The movies or the magic laser defense system?”
She looked at him over her glasses.
“Fine. Let’s say the U.S. managed to get the billions of dollars to fund that project. Then, let’s say that those satellites launched properly. Then, let’s say they continued to fund it adequately and keep everything up-to-date and working. Then, let’s say that it actually would have worked without any real tests in its entire history. Again, this is a system designed to hit a ballistic target falling back to earth, not one burning out of system. We covered all of this in the ‘things that could go horribly wrong’ portion of training.”
“But what about…”
“Dammit, Karen, they don’t care. We accelerated for a month and nothing chased us. They dropped the space program because of lack of funding, not some mystic thing Voyager saw outside the heliosphere. I know what you’ve read, it’s all hokum.”
At that moment, the rebel billionaire commed them. “Arrgh, me maties might be wantin’ to see this.”
“Clarance, cut the pirate crap. What do you want?”
“You guys are no fun. We’re the first people to go exasolar, and you’re all business.”
“Particle readings are past the threshold?”
“Not yet, but they will be in a couple minutes. I thought you might like to see it.”
The cockpit was cramped for three people, but they didn’t mind. It was a historic moment of gauge-watching.
“Annnnd…there it is. We are officially exasolar.”
Clarance and Kathy whooped. They began making all of the standard comments, knowing the flight recorder would be catching everything for posterity.
Something was bothering Jeron, though. They had all been watching the particle readings, but no one had actually been looking out the viewscreen.
“Uh, guys…where are the stars?”
“What do you mean, where are the stars? They’re right…” Clarance trailed off as he, too, looked up. “That can’t be right.”
Then, before their eyes, the pure blackness dissolved into a geodesic wall. Collision alarms rang. Kathy and Clarance desperately sprang into action. Jeron knew (though not a pilot) that it was in vain. They were traveling too fast. Unless the wall was unspeakably massive, it would be mere seconds before they were obliterated against it.
“No wonder they didn’t bother shooting us down.”
Kathy received some last sensor data. “From…from the gravity data…it’s…it’s all the way around! Jeron, it’s all the way around!”
| (Part 1)
Everything had worked out so far. Six and a half years of planning, hiding, in secret, risking arrest (or worse) every time we made that long drive through the dust to town to pick up a new package or a new recruit.
At first, it was only Leanne and I - both enthusiasts, educated, but never eligible for any private or government program - her because of her eyesight and me because of my limp. A direct result of my parent's selfish and misinformed behavior (they had no regard for vaccines or modern medicine), an easily prevent infection instead nearly killed me. Ironically, it probably made me who I am today - I rebelled and studied science, astronomy, physics, went to school and got my Ph.D.
After the space programs shut down, with no warning or reasoning (most people bought that budget cuts, financial reasons were to blame), we didn't know what to think. It had always been our dream to be tourists one day, to fly above the earth, to float effortlessly, plunging towards the earth and yet pulling away at the same time. So we decided that we would take it upon ourselves.
It wasn't easy, of course, but the technology was there. 3D printing made working in private a lot easier, and what parts we did need to outsource we managed to order under the guise of other projects - greenhouses, amateur rocketry, battery research. That was how we met Philip, or Rusty as he preferred to be called. At first we were weary to trust anyone else, but over time his help became invaluable. Assembling parts, testing, and of course, the major skill we lacked - actually piloting the damn thing.
Now we were finally there, Day 0, launch day, and I was terrified. I looked over at Leanne, the reflection of my helmet (customized diving gear - tested in our make shift vacuum chamber, but now seeming about as sturdy as a fish bowl).
"Are we really doing this?" I asked out of no where, doubt suddenly filling my mind.
"We're ready, Tom," she said cooly, eyes still locked on the instrument panel. "We've been ready."
"Main engine check complete, all systems are powered and test okay." Rusty intoned, his voice unwavering. "We got this, Tom - we're going to bring this back for everyone."
I knew there was no turning back once we were underway, everything would be revealed - the launch would be plain as day to anyone with 300 miles, and would no doubt set off every government radar and seismograph on the eastern seaboard. We'd talked about it before, of course - the real reasons that all the programs had been shutdown, even the Chinese, who were in the process of racing us to Mars. But there was only one way to know for sure, only one way to find out.
"Main thruster sequence is initiated. Docking clamps released. Primary ignition sequence in 10..." Rusty rattled off the numbers matter of fact, as if he'd done it a thousand times before, and not just in simulations.
Slowly the enormous rumble rising up from beneath us penetrated the cabin, shaking everything and blurring my vision for a moment. I shook my head; this is it, I thought, everything you've been working for.
"7..."
Rusty was all business, hands on the controls, focused and steady. Leanne looked back and forth at me but kept her eyes on the gauges, reading fuel, electrical status; everything was working exactly as designed. I had the least to do, primarily being tasked with orbital calculations, trajectories, everything now entered into the computer and locked in, calculated on the fly faster than any human mind could adjust.
"4... 3... "
Suddenly everything began to shake a thousand times harder than before and I felt an enormous force pressing me into my seat.
"1.... liftoff..."
I was suddenly aware of the wide blue sky as we left the underground silo and accelerated upwards. Within seconds we were above the wide desert. Everything was a blur, but looking to the edge of the capsule I was sure I could see a cloud of dust in the distance, streaking through the desert, pale beige trucks racing through the dirt towards the launch site. My panic started to rise again - what if they sent jets, missiles, anti-ICBM laser defenses, blew us out of the sky?
Before I could panic, the desert was fading, and I could see the outline of the country, the whole continent, starting to form beneath us. My panic dropped away and was replaced by awe - the sight I never thought I would live to see. I swallowed and managed to find my voice, trying to keep it as steady as Rusty.
"This is it... " I whispered, before speaking up, "orbital trajectory looks good, we are on target to enter low earth orbit in T minus 18 minutes."
"Still a long way to go." Leanne smiled for the first time as we started to take in the reality of what was happening. The first human beings to leave the surface of the planet for almost a decade; it was no trip to Mars or even the Moon, but it was a start, and proof that it could be done, governments be damned. We settled back, the rest of the trip was essentially on auto pilot - a full orbit around the earth, for everyone to see, then a rapid reentry and a splashdown, hopefully somewhere in the southern hemisphere, where we had friends waiting to retrieve us. After that, we'd have to go into hiding, of course; the capsule would be sunk and the launch site was already in ashes below us, this was a one time trip - but maybe, just maybe, we'd pave the way for others like us, show people that--
Suddenly an alarm started to blare, a klaxon sound that I couldn't recall ever hearing before. I looked over at Leanne and then turned to Rusty, who's usual calm demeanor had changed to a mixture of confusion and - anger? I scanned across all the instruments, trying to make sense of what was happening. Everything read out okay - fuel mixture, acceleration, altitude, all systems looked green. Leanne spoke first.
"Rusty, what the hell is that thing?" | 2014-12-28T09:01:03 | 2014-12-28T07:45:33 | 46 | 15 |
[WP] As teens, you and your best friend make a marriage pact. Years later, you discover they've been sabotaging all of your relationships to have you for themselves. | You were always there for me. We were inseparable; the same.
Batman and Robin, Bert and Ernie, they used every name.
You moved next-door when I was eight,
we didn't get along.
You were Holmes to my Moriarty,
the right to my wrong.
I was a bit of a bully. I'm not proud but it's true.
I had everyone afraid of me. Everyone but you.
You didn't even bat an eye
when I pinned you to the wall.
You ever so eloquently sized me up
and... kicked me in the balls.
They cried *"The King is dead! Rejoice! His reign is at an end!"*
I cried too, but not from pain. You asked to be my friend.
You knew that's why I did it.
You saw it right away.
You understood me completely
from the very first day.
On that day we got so drunk you couldn't even stand.
You made me make a promise and hold your hand.
I didn't think you serious
as I put you to sleep.
I didn't think a drunk man's word
was good enough to keep.
Through all of life I fought for love
but could never win.
And you were always there for me
with your stupid grin.
You had your troubles too of course.
Remember *"All men are pigs!" ?*
You refused to talk to me that day
Until I wore a wig.
You were my rock, my confidant,
My greatest treasure.
No other girl could ever compare
By any measure.
I have no doubt you saw it first.
But it took 'til now to see
You are the only girl I want.
Will you marry me?
EDIT:
Changed "You got so drunk" to "We got so drunk" to avoid further confusion. | The contract is still posted on my bulletin board in my old bedroom back home. Written in orange crayon, the contract requires that I marry Jackson on the day following my twenty-seventh birthday if I am still single. At least, this is what I interpret from the stick figures holding hands with a 27 written above each of their heads. One of the stick figures wore a triangle-shaped dress while the other had some sort of bow-tie. We signed our names in big green letters that resemble what would be expected for the penmanship of a seven year old. I even dotted the "i" in my name with a heart.
Jackson and I have been friends since childhood. As impressive as our two-decade friendship is, I feel that it is necessary to attribute the success of our friendship, at least in part, to the closeness of our families. Our mothers were college roommates, and were as close, if not closer, than most sisters. Their bond lead to years of our families joining for holidays and birthdays and nearly every weekend. Accounting for all of our frequent encounters, I don't find it all that surprising that my elementary-school-aged self would believe that she would one day marry Jackson. I remember the night of my seventh birthday when Jackson asked me to marry him. I laughed and explained that we were too young to be married. I was the one who suggested the pact because, in second grade, twenty-seven seems really old to be single.
My seven-year-old self would disapprove of the nearly twenty-seven and single version of me. I haven't always been single. I have dated several good guys and few not-so-good ones. I had my first date in my sophomore year of high school, and I attended prom three of the four years. In college, I dated occasionally and had a couple of serious relationships. I typically blamed the failed relationships on my ideology that studying organic chemistry was more important than maintaining or trying to develop chemistry in a relationship. By the time I graduated college and began medical school, I had completely given up on the idea of dating anyone at all.
Throughout college and medical school, I still saw Jackson when I went to visit my parents for the holidays I didn't spend studying. Jackson was attractive, as my mother often pointed out, and he was successful. He made deans list every semester and landed a well-paying position at an accounting firm right after graduation. And, of course, he was still single. I often reminded my mother that I was too busy for a relationship, but I would reconsider after college, and then after medical school, and now after residency. "Besides," I told her, "Jackson and I don't even talk much, except on holidays."
Imagine my surprise on the night before my twenty-seventh birthday when I received a text from Jackson inviting me to get a drink with him. I reluctantly agreed and we met at a bar across the street from the hospital after my shift. We sat at a table in the corner and I sipped a Malibu bay breeze while he swirled his glass of scotch (on the rocks). We started by talking about our parents and moved then to discuss the patients I encountered today. Finally, he admitted why he had invited me to join him that night.
"I don't know if you even remember this anymore, Brit, but I've been thinking a lot about that pact we made when we were younger."
I laughed. "What about it?"
"I think we should discuss whether we should honor our agreement."
I placed my glass on the table and shook my head. "We were seven."
"Maybe we were on to something?"
"Jackson, I don't have time for relationships right now. I am sure my mother has told your mother and your mother has told you that I am not very good at relationships."
Jackson shakes his head and takes a sip of his scotch. "You see, that's the thing. The reason your relationships have failed is because of me."
"What are you talking about?"
He takes a a gulp of his scotch. "I find your boyfriends on social media and I find a way to sabotage the relationship. I told Jason that you were actually dating me. I lied to Will and told him you were actually a lesbian. I admitted to Danny that you and I were actually meant to be together. I know all of this was really wrong, but I thought you should know that I can't stand the thought of you with anyone else."
I am about to drink the rest of my Malibu when the pager on my hip vibrates. "I've got to go." I leave my bay breeze three-quarters of the way full and head back to the hospital.
| 2015-05-02T12:37:02 | 2015-05-02T11:49:23 | 198 | 92 |
[WP] Every human is given their lifetime supply of "luck" to be used at their will. Some choose to expend it all at once on a massive success, and live the rest of their lives with no luck, some spread it out evenly and use luck on random small events. | Meanwhile some, like myself, take luck from others. You see, luck isn't like a fuel, that's burned and lost. Its more like money, that's spent and burnt. Scientists, about four years ago, discovered what they called the 'luck particles', and you can pretty much guess what the human race did.
They found a way to mine it, quite literally, from rabbits. Which are, funny enough, chock full of luck particles. Then they found a way to use them, by containing them in little watches. Then, they sold them.
And, naturally, like anything valuable, someone finds a way to steal them. And that someone is me.
I'll slip a heads down penny onto someone's table. Rig a ladder hidden in a hallway that people will walk under in the thousands. I'll mass breed black cats and then let them out onto the streets. Because, as i discovered, when luck is spent, it flows up the chain to whatever person caused it. And for millions of people now, that person is me.
I've spent the last twenty years doing this shit, too. And for what? I'm now the luckiest man alive. Ive gotten interviews, TV shows, brand deals. Everyone just thinks I have a naturally high luck particle production, meanwhile I'm really just placing fragile mirrors under toilet seats everywhere I go and framing other people for the arson of a horseshoe factory.
And why they ask. Why am I in my nineties, and still not spending any luck?
Because Ive rigged my luck watch to spend it all on myself right when I die, just to see what'll happen. | The guy with the gun sprinted down the street and turned down an alley, not sure if he could even hear the bank teller following him over the sound of his own pounding heart. His left ankle clipped something and he went sprawling, his pistol sliding just out of reach. He didn’t even see whatever he tripped over, which was a pretty bad sign. After saving up his luck for a year for this day, this wasn’t a good time for it to run out. And just then, just to seal the deal, the detective stepped into the alley holding a fire extinguisher. He reached out for his gun.
“Nuh uh, hold on just a second,” the teller said, leveling the fire extinguisher at him. “I know what you’re thinking. Shoot the idiot holding the fire extinguisher. You maybe could. I watched you back there in the bank, you had some moves. When you shot out the security camera, and the bullet ricocheted around, taking out two more cameras before knocking over the picture frame that knocked the guard unconscious - that was slick, man. Really impressive. Lucky, even.” The detective grinned like he and the gunman shared a secret.
“But I have to wonder,” he continued, “how much luck did you use? It seemed like you were even showing off for a little while. I’m sure you had a lot saved up, but how much?” He walked slowly toward the gunman, the nozzle aimed at his face. “I know what you’re thinking. How much luck could you possibly need to pick up that gun and shoot me? You’re out of breath, though. Your heart rate is up, and I bet pumping with adrenaline. Do you have enough luck left to make that first shot go straight?”
Yeah, thought the guy with the gun as he sat up, but I bet the second or third or fourth might have a better chance. If only he could remember how many he’d already fired. Shit. The teller pulled over a milk crate, sat down, and set the fire extinguisher next to him. What an asshole.
“Now,” the teller continued, “let me tell you a little about my life. I live under the desk at the bank. I don’t mean that I work a lot. I mean that I live there. I haven’t been paid in months, because a glitch in the payroll system deletes my file every. Single. Month. Not the same glitch. Different glitches. I’d drink my sorrows away, but I have this one-in-a-million genetic thing where…well, you get the picture. I don’t use a lot of luck.” He hoisted the fire extinguisher onto his knee. “So maybe I’d spray this thing at you and look like a moron. Or maybe I’ve got enough luck saved up to make just about anything happen. So you gotta ask yourself one question: ‘Do I feel lucky?’ Well, do ya, punk?”
The gunman watched him for a moment, and then grabbed for the gun. The teller aimed the nozzle of the fire extinguisher and pulled the trigger. A cloud of fire retardant dust sprayed out, right into the gunman’s god damn eye. He dropped the pistol as his hand shot up to cover his face, and a shot went off as it hit the ground. The bullet ricocheted off a wall before grazing the gunman in the head, miraculously knocking him unconscious rather than killing him.
The teller dropped the fire extinguisher and stared at the gunman’s unconscious body for a minute. “Maybe I used a little much,” he muttered to himself. Two uniformed policemen, the bank’s president, the teller’s crush, and the guy who used to pick on him in high school came running around the corner into the entrance of the alley.
“What happened here?” shouted one of the cops.
“He’s a hero, and I’ve got proof right here!” yelled another man, crossing the street toward them and gesturing at the video camera in his hand. The newcomers all eagerly gathered around to watch the evidence.
"Yeah, way too much. Tone it back," the teller said, stumbling over an empty soda can before joining the others. | 2016-10-19T11:57:51 | 2016-10-19T11:57:31 | 30 | 11 |
[WP] When you wish upon a shooting star, it's actually a satellite, and your wish has been recorded and cataloged. An agent has been assigned to your case. | "We got one coming in and it's yours," my boss's voice echoed through my headset.
"Roger that," I muttered pushing on my controls.
I waited for the wish to register. A picture of a little girl appeared followed by the words "I wish I could have a puppy." I sighed in relief. I could do this.
I started going through her family's file looking for a way to give her a puppy. She came from a single parent household, but they seemed to be financially stable enough for a dog.
I glanced back up at the console wondering what my best approach was. Only to realize more words had appeared on the wish registry. It now read "I wish I could have a puppy and I wish daddy would come home."
I swore. Well things just got more complicated. I dug deeper into the family file wondering what happened to the father. I pulled his file up and the word "girlfriend" stuck out to me. Well crap. I sighed and called my boss.
"Baker, what's your status?" My boss said curtly.
"I have a Isabella Blazer who made two wishes. One for a puppy and..." I paused wishing I could help Isabella, "one for her father to come home."
My boss sighed, "Get her the puppy and do your best with the father. Sorry your first day has to be complicated. I warned you this wasn't easy."
"Roger that," I muttered before disconnecting.
I read through the father's file. He didn't seem like a bad guy, just didn't really love his wife. I made a phone call down to our office on Earth. They patched me through to the father's cell phone. I put on my most professional voice and called pretending to be a local animal shelter. After a few minutes of persuading he agreed to come look at the puppies. Hopefully I could kill two birds with one stone.
Isabella opened her bedroom door as her mom called her. She rushed through the house to find her mother. She didn't only find her mother, but her father holding a tiny corgi. Isabella squealed and hugged her father. The dog yipped and licked Isabella. She then turned her attention to the puppy and held it close.
Isabella's parents looked at each other and nodded in an understanding. Her mother knew that he would be visiting regularly from now on. She had just read the most interesting statistics that popped up on her phone about how much a little girl needs a father. The same day her ex husband had called. It was such a coincidence. | 8am, Central Control.
"Well this is it Mulgrew. You've got the first case of 2017, don't screw it up." barked Lieutenant James from the front room.
Gemma, Nolte and Higgins swung around, lept from their chairs and came bounding over to my desk. The four of us Debutants were now glued to the monitor, I could feel Gemma's breath on my neck. None of us knew which one would be first but I always had the feeling I'd be the one, these things had always happened to me.
The cursor blinked incessantly. On and off, on and off, on and off. I could feel the trembling start as I waited for the cursor to make its move. My fingertips had run cold and my right knee had begun to jump like a dog in anticipation of a walk in the park.
I got a slap on the shoulder from Nolte and Higgins rocked my chair, I felt like an astronaut ready for take off. There was an ungodly backlog of wishes from New Year's Eve and I was about to get the first one.
I could feel their smiles behind me as the cursor began to reveal the assignment.
*John Corner, 15. 'I wish Nick Cannon was dead.' -- Cataloged at 00:03 01/01/2017. Further details can be found in the attachment.*
The smiles had gone. My chair ceased to rock as Nolte delicately patted my shoulder and walked away. Higgins sighed and went back to his desk, he swung slowly in his chair with his two hands on his head. Gemma stood still, staring over my shoulder at the screen.
"I'm sorry Charlie." she whispered. I could hear her whisper break as she said the word sorry.
I stood up from my chair and called Lieutenant James, who we called Sir throughout our 18 months of training, to my station.
"Sir, I've gotten a Death Wish." I said as I pointed at my screen, the room of sixty-four agents fell silent. The Lieutenants brow furrowed as he approached and examined the line from the console.
"Hmm, well now, that is strange. I thought I had filtered all of your wishes for only the simplest of wishes. You should really only be getting weight loss, wealth and hair growth wishes, you know the every day stuff."
A warm calmness grew over me as the Lieutenant's confusion had now captivated the room. It was broken, the Wish Console was broken. Nolte, who sat six agents away at a console in the same row as mine poked his head out from the row of heads and watched intently.
"Well at least you'll learn something from this one, might even help you progress quicker than any agent we ever had." barked the Lieutenant. I froze.
The Lieutenant was a tall strong man with posture that made me think his entire day must be spent in discomfort. The scar on his cheek was the subject of many rumours throughout the Academy, the scar started from just under his right eye and curled away towards his ear. The scar sat upon his face like a trench on a battlefield and never moved in sync with the rest of his face. I found myself staring at the scar.
"Get a move on Mulgrew!" he barked.
"Sorry Sir, I will get right on it." I remember my reply being a little too quiet but the Lieutenant didn't punish me for it. I sat down and plugged my headset into the Console.
I opened the attachment from the console and viewed the bios belonging to what I had thought was going to be two boys in the middle of an adolescent fight. I was wrong.
John Corner was a thinly framed boy, his face seemed weary in each of the photographs we had on file. His blonde hair had grown long but hung like straw around his narrow and contoured cheeks.
I clicked on his name and opened the surveillance folder. I opened the first image of John from today. It was time to see what he wanted.
In the first photo, taken just under two hours ago, he could be seen leaving his house. His hand was rubbing just under his left eye and his other hand was plunged into the black jacket. This photo was taken this morning and I noticed something strange about the photos that followed. His right hand never left that jacket pocket. There were satellite images of John in clear view up until he got on the bus for school.
I searched for James Northern High School and pulled up the satellite images from when the bus arrived. John was last to get off the bus, his hand still in his pocket, clutching something that seemed too large to be his phone, it was barely fitting into the jacket pocket and his hand was resting there to keep it in place.
I began to feel panic rise from my feet, my legs were beginning to feel numb and I could feel my breathing become more and more deliberate. I opened the bio for Nick Cannon.
*Schoolteacher, 32 years old. Wife [Isabelle Cannon, 29]. Daughter [Elizabeth Cannon, 3]*
I threw the headset onto the desk and jumped to my feet... | 2017-01-03T11:06:30 | 2017-01-03T09:40:55 | 76 | 44 |
[WP] Lying in bed with your significant other and feeling the rhythmic kicks of your unborn child, you recognize the pattern as Morse code. | Jack was laying in bed talking with his pregnant wife Jill. They were so excited that they were going to have a son in a short time.
All of a sudden Jill jumped a little, smiled, then turned to Jack and said the baby was starting to kick.
Jack had been trying to feel the baby kick for awhile now but was never able to feel anything. He slid over towards his wife and placed his hand on her stomach...
The baby kicked again and Jack was so happy he finally felt a kick. Then he felt another, and another.
The baby seemed to be kicking like a toddler rolling around on the floor throwing a temper tantrum.
Jack and Jill couldn't believe how much the baby was kicking. Why was he kicking so much? Was something wrong? Was he trying to tell them something?
Jack felt the kicks and noticed a pattern. It was short kicks close together and then a brief pause between some of the kicks. Jack thought, could it be Morse code? No, couldn't be, but what if?
Jack rushed out of bed to get a pad of paper to write down the sequence of the kicks.
He finished writing down the sequence and he was beside himself. He knew Morse code from Boy Scouts and immediately knew his child was destined for greatness...
... . -. -.. / -. ..- -.. . ...
| Dave tip-toed to bed giving his wet footsteps a disdainful stare. He turned to Lana. Her eyes could have burned holes through the pages of 'Hypnobirthing and Timeless Secrets of Natural Birth'. She had no time to review his wet foot problem.
"You know dear I'm just glad that they finally gave me some time off." he said to her.
"It's sweet of you to stay, but honestly Dave I am fine." Lana replied.
"Fine? This is my first kid woman, I'll be damned if I don't make a big deal out of it." he replied.
"It's my first kid too, you don't see me fretting over it. Just relax and be like a hollow reed, let your troubles blow in and out."
There was a down side to marrying a yoga instructor. Lana always seemed to have the tension of a cut wire. Maybe this was why she needed him. Someone needed to ensure that the obstacles in life were tackled not taken lying down, possibly on a yoga mat.
"Now look you've woken him up," she said lifting the book to peek at her belly.
"Me?" Dave asked.
"Well you're the one with all the negative energy in the bed."
He rolled his eyes. "Fine, since I'm the one causing the trouble I'll make him quiet."
He placed his head on his wife's belly. "Now, now junior you can't be playing those games at this time of night or else Mommy will blame Daddy for more of her problems."
Lana rolled her eyes.
He smiled as he felt the hand stretching out brushing across his cheek. Then his face folded as the pattern became obvious; four soft punches followed by two more; it was morse for HI.
Confused, he lifted his head. "Hi" he replied. He placed his head back on her belly.
"What in the name of Bharadvaja's Twist are you doing Dave?"
"The baby, I think it just spoke to me?"
"it did?"
"Yeah it was in Morse Code he said Hi so I said Hi back. Just lie there I'll tell you more."
He placed his head back on her belly. The pattern changed. Now he felt the hand stretch and slowly glaze over a distance. It was a dash. He felt a second, then three more, there was a pause then two more. The pattern repeated. MOM.
"MOM? No this is DAD,"
"Wait why are you calling mom? She's right here with you?" He turned to face his wife and three years in the marines could not prevent him from screaming as he caught site of her. Her face had fallen and now her forehead rested at her chin. Where her face one was now was a series of circuits, wires, and a miniature satellite.
"Gestation process completed, progeny is ready for delivery."
"What the fuck!" He yelled. He was now on his feet. The body, or whatever it was, did not respond.
"Understood," it said in its dull monotone, "process of clean up commences immediately with male's frontal lobe at once."
Her face lifted back to where it was meant to be. Then it turned to him. She crossed the mattress with the speed pregnant women only dream of. He made for the door but she grabbed his shirt just as he opened it. She tossed him to the cupboard which broke on impact.
Dave was on his knees when he felt himself lifted his collar. His wife's delicate hands felt like steel.
"What the hell is this? Please, my baby?"
It looked at him momentarily with pity, "I apologize Dave, but where your wife come's from you are not significant."
A syringe stabbed his neck, and he collapsed to the floor as the rumble of turbines was heard across the sky.
| 2017-06-25T21:53:29 | 2017-06-25T18:03:52 | 48 | 36 |
[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. 😉✌️ | They said they wanted peace. They said they wanted to avoid a future where humanity wiped itself out. They said a lot of things. And then they said no more.
For fifty years we waited. We followed the treaty down to the letter, even refusing to contact our northern and southern neighbors. For fifty years we waited, as they spat on their supposed good intentions. We waited as peace broke down. We waited as war broke out.
There's a slight poetic justice to learning that the ones who were afraid of us, the ones responsible for this self imposed exile, died in a hellfire of their own making. They thought that we were the biggest threat. They thought we were the cancer spreading throughout the world, destroying everything it touched.
They were wrong.
We were simply a deterrent. A force of nature that none dared to cross. And with us out of the way, with nothing to be afraid of, the world tore itself apart.
We came out of our exile prepared to fight. We expected an army of nations, prepared to end us, once and for all. But what we found instead was the very world itself, wrapped up in a wintery bow, waiting for us to take it.
| We thought getting rid of them would bring a stable peace to the World.
After all... Americans started the war. They were the main Military power on Earth. Without them in the picture, we wouldn't see a need to fight one another anymore. Real issues like Global Warming could finally be dealt with.
We expected World Peace. We thought other Countries would be tired of conflict.
And we were wrong.
The first 10 years were mellow. Countries spent most of their time rebuilding their infrastructures, replanting farms, stripping away Military arms for a better future.
But... While many Countries saw peace, others saw opportunity.
Russia and China had felt mistreated after the War. China's #1 trade partner was gone, and the Chinese economy was barely standing on its own two feet. The Russians were still angry after their loss. The hated the way other Countries blocked them off after the war ended... Apparently the lessons of WWI had escaped us, thinking back on it.
Israel grew terrified with the loss of its biggest supporter. In a frantic act, they would establish themselves even harder into Palestinian territory. With no one wanting to take the reigns of the Peace Talks, another war soon launched out. Other nations in the Middle East grew furious from the act, and attacked Israel.
And when all was said and done... Palestinians regained the rights to the land. But at what cost? The lands were ripped up and tarnished. Infrastructure was destroyed, and the European nations were too worried about their own recovery to support the country.
It turned towards its allies in the Middle East... Towards Saudi Arabia, a fellow Sunni nation.
This angered Iran. They put so many resources into the war. Tensions between the Shia and Sunni slowly started to rise... And another war took place after.
Drug Cartels in Mexico prospered. The Mexican Military no longer had the resources of the United States to fight them off, and the people who were suffering didn't have the ability to flee North like they once had.
So they fled South. Nations like El Salvador and Panama began taking in influxes of immigrants... But, unlike the United States, they didn't have the infrastructure to support them and their economies slowly began to degrade, encouraging Cartels to expand their business.
The Chinese were dealing with a broken economy and a massive population that only continued to expand. They had no choice... The nations around them slowly started to be swallowed up, so that the Chinese people would have more land to go to.
And Europe... They had expected peace with the leave of the United States. They reduced their Militaries to Skeleton Armies, leaving more money to transfer to improving the destroyed nations.
They didn't expect it when the Russians moved an army to take their old territories back. They didn't expect it when they began to push against the borders of the European Union.
Left with little choice, Europe federalized as one nation. They fought back.
Yes, conflict emboiled the War. The United Nations was nothing but a remnant of its own self, the UN Peacekeeping Corps didn't have the manpower to stop any of this from happening.
By the time the 50 year mark came... The World was in a state of constant chaos. Borders had changed, Countries had fallen and formed, and new Empires were rising up from the ashes.
But then the U.S. came back. Their own economy flourishing once again, their farmlands ripe and their Military expecting conflict from the start... Had they always known? Had they been watching us?
It was hard to tell.
All we knew was that a strong nation had re-entered World Politics. It had the resources we were lacking, the Military strength we needed.
It's true the Americans had started the War all those decades ago... But maybe now was their time to redeem themselves. | 2022-09-12T17:39:07 | 2018-01-18T00:24:00 | 579 | 254 |
[WP] After your weekly D&D session, you jokingly roll a D20 saying,"I try convincing the love of my life to come over right now!" Everyone laughs as they watch the dice come up crit 20 but then they all go silent as there is a sudden knock at the door. | I'd been pretty bummed for the last couple of weeks since I moved out to the new house I was renting. My friend Jack convinced me that running a D&D session might help get my mind off of things, and I suppose he wasn't wrong for the most part. The night was your usual fare, adventures, killing goblins in a new module, and some drinks and snacks.
Everyone was laughing, and having a good time, but things were starting to wind down. Everyone was helping with packing up as they were gathering their things as I jokingly picked up one of the dice, holding it up as I call out. "I try to convince the love of my life to come over right now!" Everyone laughs, the table laughs, we kill the mimic. I haven't had a girlfriend in over a year, but I'm okay with how things have been.
Really though, the dice clinked on the table, before falling off as I bent over to pick it up before a harsh knock was heard at the front door and everyone looked at me weird. "Dude. What did you roll?" I just shrugged as I walked back over towards the door, seeing a girl in a white sundress, her long brown hair shimmering in the waning light of the evening.
Opening the door, I smile as I open my door to ask what she needed. Nobody with her, so I figured she probably wasn't a Jehova's witness or one of the Mormons. That's when I hear the excited skittering at our feet as I look down and exclaim, "SAMMY!" The girl is taken aback, taking a step away as I kneel down, and the little dog jumps into my arms from the leash on her collar.
"Oh my god... Sammy! I missed you too girl!" My face is almost in tears as I look back up at the girl who looks very confused but pleased as she sighs a bit. "I... I'm sorry. I'm Alex, how... how did you find my dog?"
"I'm Samantha. And... I found her a couple blocks from here looking scared but she's so gentle. I live not far from here. I was going to make up some flyers but when we were walking in front of your house she started tugging and pulling up to the front door." She pulled her hair back over from her face and over her ear as she explained.
I looked down at the dog licking my face excitedly as I grinned happier than I had been for the last two weeks. "Yeah, I just recently moved here. She got loose from her leash chasing a squirrel the day before I moved. I went back almost every day, but I couldn't find her. I guess she was looking for me too."
The girl sighed again as she reached down undoing the leash before considering a moment and giving me the leash as well. "Hey, I can't keep a dog from her owner. Maybe I'll see you around?" Smiling softly still looking at my dog I look up as the dog runs inside, starting to sniff everything as I put out my hand for her to shake. "Y-yeah. Definitely. Here, let me give you my number. Whatever you need just ask!"
I run over to the table scrawliing my phone number on the sheet before she folds it up nodding as she looks back over at Sammy again before waving goodbye. "I'll be sure to call." Closing the door my friends are just stunned as they look me over like I'm an alien. "Dude. I'm glad you got your dog, but that was smooth."
"Oh what? Nah, she was just really nice and I owe her." I go back over to the fallen dice as I look at it. "Huh, natural 20." | "My god, Sam, if that works, I'll pay you fifty bucks!" Bacon joked.
Sweat beaded his brow even with the windows cracked and the cold night air leaving most of us almost shivering. Still, it was worth it. There wasn't a deodorant, bodyspray or antiperspirant existed that could stop Bacon from sweating if he was warm. And it always smelt like bacon. Funny at first. Not so much two years down the line. I couldn't even look at cooking bacon without feeling a bit queasy.
"I'll hold you to that." I laughed, as the D20 clattered across the table.
There was anxious silence for a moment, even though we knew that there was no way there would be an answer. We play D&D but none of us are superstitious or anything. I mean, Raf was one of those hardcore atheists through high school.
After a moment, we broke into scattered laughter and carried on tidying up. Well, I say tidying up. I helped Raf shove the detritus of our takeaway into the bin while Bacon and John packed away the character sheets.
**Thunk thump thunk**
We stopped, and looked at each other. Panic rose in my throat, but a wavering smile flickered across my face.
"Okay guys, that's funny. Who's out there?"
The bewilderment on their faces was genuine. I'd seen enough of their acting to know when they were faking. I sighed and straightened up while Raf glanced over his shoulder towards the door. Considering the neighbourhood we were in, the door was a heavy wooden job, no windows but a peephole.
I walked over to it, expecting to see a confused deliveryman, a kid, or a neighbour when I got there. Before I reached the peephole, the knocker tried again, this time with such force that I swear, I saw the door shake.
I stopped in my tracks, and swallowed hard. My hands were already clammy, but I couldn't tell if the bead of cold sweat rolling down my back was from the chilly room or from fear.
"Seriously guys."
"It's not us." Raf hissed. "We wouldn't do that to you. Besides, who'd come over that quickly? You literally did it and it's been 15 minutes."
"Yeah." Bacon said. "For all we know, you're playing us."
I looked at him, and there must have been something in my stare, because even Bacon clamped his mouth shut for once. Behind me, the knocker pounded even harder. I heard a raspy whine, the scrape of nails on wood, around the lock. Then the sound of metal keys, jangling.
"You didn't cut a spare, did you?" John asked, quietly.
We had all gathered near the hallway now, while the visitor scratched and scraped like a cat wanting in. I shook my head wordlessly. Suddenly my throat had closed up. Raf looked around.
"The windows." he said, quickly. "We need to make sure the windows are shut. Close the curtains. It might be burglars or something."
I could have fucking hugged Raf right then. He took my mind away from the worst, gave us all something to hurriedly do while the unseen visitor rapped at the door, in uneven intervals. The lights went off one by one as Bacon, then John, and finally Raf came back into the hallway, having turned off as many of the lights as they could.
It was now only the hallway light, and its glow reached some distance into the living room, but here we stood, all four of us, clustered together like scared children. Grown men. I nearly laughed from the absurdity of it all, but we all turned to look at the front door as the unseen visitor pounded on it in clear fury.
Then I heard the porch step creak. The shuffle of unsteady feet, and the visitor that crept around the outside of my home, trying each hastily-locked window, but lingered around the one that I had to get replaced after it got busted in. I saw the shape against the thin curtains, illuminated from behind by the street light.
"What the fuck." John hissed. Suddenly we were clutching each other's arms. It was only a small shape, small and thin, but our sudden visitor had obviously enough strength to rattle my reinforced door.
The next place they would try would be the back, I knew it. But that was just as strong, with three deadbolts and two locks, one in the middle and one at the top.
**Bang bang bang bang**
I swallowed, even though my mouth was dry. My throat drier. The mirth of the evening was gone. It was like we were in our own personal horror film.
The door handle rattled. They pounded on it again. I heard the jingle of the keys I thought had been long lost. Raf looked at me, the white of his eyes bright against his skin. Bright in the darkness.
"What the fuck is that?" he asked.
I heard it hiss. Like air leaking from a tyre. I had no response for Raf. Not for anyone. The visitor continued. It sounded like they were using both fists. Both skinny fists. And then it wailed.
Not the sound of a frustrated man. Not the sound of a broken-hearted woman. This was like the scream of a mountain lion. My skin prickled. My heart pounded fiercely in my chest. I could barely breath. But then it scraped away. We heard it by the porch. It gave a final, hopeful rattle on the door handle, then was gone.
Bacon, John and Raf didn't go home that night. They hunkered down in the living room on a couple of cots I had while I curled up in a battered, stained armchair. Bacon slumped down on the couch. I looked over at the wall, and shivered.
It wasn't visible in the darkness of the living room. But there was the picture of the five of us, back before it happened. I'd fixed the house. I'd got a gunsafe with a rifle. I went to the range every other month to practice my aim. Too little, too late. Just a freak accident. The group had been sleeping in my house like we were pretending to do right now. Only she'd got up for a glass of water and surprised the burglars.
Truthfully, I didn't realise she was the love of my life until her rotting corpse came knocking on my door in the middle of the night. | 2018-04-03T11:12:21 | 2018-04-03T10:47:27 | 14 | 10 |
[WP] After dying, you are faced with a coin slot. It says, "Pay 1$ to live for another day". You tried it out, and lived for another day. The next day, it showed up again, this time it asks you for 2$. | "Hey, Terry!" the Lisa greeted me with a smile when it was my turn.
"Hey, Lisa!" I answered back, setting my trustey right beside the counter and opening it. It had about a thousand coins left inside, but those would be gone by the end of the week.
"I need my coins, Lisa." I said to her, as I'd said many times before in the last month. Lisa had them ready, of course - she had been my bank teller for a good ten years and always had a smile for me.
"Here you go, Terry. 5000 in coins. Are you sure you don't want to tell me what you use them for?"
I start throwing them in my trolley. The people in line behind me look at me strangely, but I'm used to it. They will have to wait. Lisa keeps putting the rolls on the counter, I keep picking them up and throwing them in the trolley.
"I told you, Lisa, you just don't believe me... It's a matter of life and death." I tell her while keeping smiling. I know that without Lisa backing me up I might have to go to a lot of banks to get all the coins. It takes me too much time. I'm not 70 anymore... this bank I can still reach and return home while dragging my trolley. I am never without it anymore. I can't carry all those coins, they are so heavy. I wish they made deliveries.
I say goodbye to Lisa after ordering the next batch and head home. Matlock is coming on soon, and I'll rip all the rolls while I watch it. I should be done before Murder, She Wrote starts.
The trolley is getting heavier each week. It's just 28$ more each week, but I am not getting stronger. Those two weeks when I had the flu were terrible. I almost ran out of coins and when I finally got to the bank, Lisa wanted to call an ambulance. I know she means well, but they would have taken my trolley in the hospital. It would have been over.
I know it can't last. I still got enough money, though the kids won't be happy when they find out how much I spent. Well, they shold have been nicer to me. They'll still get the house, and I have made sure that it will be sold if they can't make a deal between them. I don't want them to fight over the house.
But the coins are getting heavier. Just like my legs. Just like my arms. The day will come when it won't be worth it anymore, but that will have to wait. I am going to be great-grandfather coming November, and I'll be there, even if I have to hire someone to bring me my coins.
I wish that damn machine would would take paper, or even a credit card. | A voice rich and sonorous filled the air like rumbling thunder, echoing through my mind like a whisper down a deep well.
“Would you like another day?” it asks. There is an undertone of mirth in the voice, a mocking tone of one who has all the knowledge and power.
My eyes focus through the haze and I see a body lying crumpled upon the ground, its arms and legs strewn out like the sickening insignia of a swastika, its head tucked away at an angle that is unnatural and wrong. Next to it, is a 4x4 and a little woman in sunglasses, standing beside the vehicle with her hands on her head, wearing an expression of shock and misery. Even though the haze is strong and suffocating, I sense a faraway emotion as I realise that the figure draped over the asphalt is me, my corporeal body.
Panic sets in as I realise that I am floating away from my body like a raft on a slow tide, edging away from myself. I stretch my arms out, desperately trying to reach me, but there is an ebb and pull drawing me in, transporting my soul away from the scene.
Suddenly, I halt, pausing for a moment, as I notice the hooded figure, swathed in unworldly garments drifting next to me. I look at its hood and the tenebrous folds, sweeping over each other like shifting sands of time. I try to look into the void where a face should be but I stop when I notice a thread of light trailing from me as if it were subsuming the remnants of all that is left.
“Would you like to live for another day?” the rich, tenor of a voice asks. “Just put this in there and you can live again.”
In the palm of an ancient, withered hand, it is holding a coin, which I recognise to be a dollar. I see, on the other side of the phantom, floating in the void, is a vintage, slot machine. I hungrily try to take the dollar away from the skeletal hand but it closes with speed. I shiver as my fingers caress the frigid bones of the being, now laughing at my vain attempt to take the money.
“Listen closely,” it tells me.
“You, an average man of forgettable consequence, have been chosen over all the others. It has been decided, that you will have a special destiny.”
The words hung in the air like dark, storm clouds, brimming with power, ready to unleash their energy.
“Death cannot be everywhere at once. And there are certain ways people need to die that requires… a human touch.”
It pointed down at my body on the road. A small crowd of people had gathered there now, some on their mobile phones, many just ogling at the scene.
“I present to you one more day of life. You must, however, earn that gift.”
It opened its palm again; there was the coin. Instead of the profile of one of the great and noble presidents, there was the protrusion of a skull, shining eerily in the ethereal being’s aura.
“Think of this as employment. One day at a time. If you perform my bidding well, I shall offer you another day of being, but at the cost of two dollars. Each day that I give you, I will charge you more. But there is good news. The more difficult the task that I set, the more I shall pay you.”
I had started to move away from my body again, watching it diminish in size as I floated towards a nebulous darkness up above, a swirling vortex that looked as viscous as oil.
“I could have picked any soul from an incalculable number of the dying or soon to be dead but I wanted you,” the voice breathed. It was sounding urgent now, as if it too was wary of time running out.
My body was almost out of sight and I was almost at the threshold of the vortex, where a cold, metallic sensation washed over me. I could take it no longer. I grabbed the dollar from the hand of death and put it into the machine. I pulled at the lever on the side, a three foot long crank, until it could go no further down.
On the panel at the front, three columns began spinning, their revolutions at differing speeds, making the three vertical bars shift and blur in and out of focus.
Finally they stopped, and aligned were three laughing skulls.
In the void there was some sort of pulse, a shockwave that rippled from deep inside the arcade machine. I wanted to scream as the silent vibrations thrummed though my whole essence. It felt like something inside me being creating from nothing, a sensation of emptiness being filled. I was drawing closer to the body sprawled on the road, all the while, my limbs becoming firmer, my head becoming clearer. As I neared, I could hear the sounds of life again. Car exhausts, the faraway sound of drilling and, loudest of all, people chattering.
“What happened?”
“Is he alright?”
“Has someone phoned 911?”
Suddenly there is a click, coming from my neck. It sounds like a puzzle being completed; it feels like my vertebrae slotting back into position.
To gasps from the sidewalk, I slowly turn onto my side and rise up into a sitting position, gently massage my temples.
I am alive again.
But at what cost? | 2018-07-29T04:14:58 | 2018-07-29T03:59:43 | 47 | 10 |
[WP] John Shoester is a bitter old man who travels around and tells people their approximate time of death. Five years. Twenty years. Two months. And he's always been 100% smugly accurate - then he met you. Last week!? | I didn't bother hiding my smile. I had died last week, and he'd predicted, exactly right, almost 8 years ago. He was just such a jerk, I had to rub this in his face.
"You know something," I half-chuckled. "That's the same time you told me before. And I told you it wouldn't stick."
His eyes went wide. Good, he remembered. He should, seeing as I'd shot him that last time. He still had a limp.
"So, tell me the next spot on the list," I said. "When do I die again?"
"Uh, I don't, just a moment," he said, shaking.
"Don't take to long. As you recall, I am not a patient man. Not a man at all, really. Not anymore."
"It's just... Okay, got it." He pulled a gun from that little bag of his, and pointed it at my head. "Now."
As the bullet tore through my skull, I didn't stop smiling. He wasn't wrong. I'd die again. But he was a fool. I was crushed by collapsing building last time, so a single bullet was a minor setback. I'm curious how he'll react next time I come back. |
The old man stood on a milk carton box in a dressing gown that billowed in the uptown breeze.
'Want to know your exact time of death?' John Shoester shouted. 'Or even if you don't want to know I'll still tell you!'
Some commuters ignored him, while others left a wide birth.
'Madam with the pink scarf!'
I couldn't see her, but John's eyes moved amongst the crowd.
'You don't want to know?' John called in a mocking voice. 'Well too bad! Thirteen years, nine months and five days.'
I got curious and approached the street preacher. I got about a meter from John. He smelt ripe, aided by the myriad of food stains on his, barely white, t-shirt.
'What a crowd we have here!' John said with fevered eyes.
'I'm the only one here.' I said and looked around. Unless he was referring to the crowd of people avoiding him?
John laughed until his belly ached. 'What's your name kid?'
'Edgar.' I say.
'Well, Edgar! You wish to know your time of death?'
John was talking to me, but he projected his voice like a ringmaster so that everyone within a block could hear.
I nodded.
'Wonderful news! I'll be right with you.'
I looked around again, wondering if he was about to heckle another innocent passerby. But he did something strange and addressed the empty space next to me.
'Sorry to keep you waiting Sandy. I had to be polite and acknowledge Edgar.'
John paused as if listening to the empty spot.
'I see. So you just wish to know the number of years and not the month?'
I kept my mouth shut. What did I expect from a man claiming to predict the exact time of death?
'Ok, good sir. Just this one time! I will only disclose the number of years. But just this once!' John said and dragged his eyes around a semi-circle consisting of just me. 'My my! Fifty-two years.'
I turned to walk away, figuring he was too busy talking to invisible people.
'Edgar!'
John's voice stopped me from taking even one step.
'Where are you heading?'
I turned and had to bear the intensity of the crazy man's stare. 'I have somewhere to be.'
'Well, why didn't you say! Does anyone here mind if Edgar jumps the queue?' John asked the semi-circle. There was a pause as he waited for the phantom responses. 'Good news Edgar! Everyone has been kind enough to let you cut the queue.'
'Thanks.' I say, trying my best to sound convincing.
'Hmm, let's see here. Do you have any special requests, Edgar? Not that I'd give in after you've already cut the queue.'
'I guess no then?'
'Marvelous! Let's see here.' John placed both his index fingers against his temples. His face contorted with pain. 'What on earth. Your time of death is one week ago...'
Batshit crazy, as I suspected.
'Riight... Thanks anyway.' I say and once again try to leave.
'Edgar!'
I turn with an unknown feeling of obligation.
'Wait one minute. This doesn't make any sense how can you have a time of death in the past?'
The thought goes through my mind like an untethered wrecking ball. Something snaps, like a divide in my mind. Memories fall barging past my only sense of reality.
When did this happen? The gunshot wound. The blood and the euphoric feeling of weightlessness. Was this a week ago? I look down at my stomach. A crimson rose blossomed. John sees this and his eyes widen.
'Edgar...Are you dead?'
| 2018-09-06T09:43:21 | 2018-09-06T07:52:34 | 28 | 10 |
[WP] You won a lifetime supply of Oreos when you were a kid. The apocoylpse and collapse of civilization was 30 years ago, yet every month the Oreos are still delivered to you, no matter where you are. | When I was a kid, I thought winning a lifetime supply of Oreos would mean truck after truck appearing at my house, each overflowing with Oreos. Back then I didn't think about things like where in the world we'd keep that many Oreos, or the fact that they'd all go bad shortly after, or that sooner or later I'd get sick of eating them. I just had this grand vision in my head I guess, didn't want to let it go. So I was pretty disappointed when a little package showed up on our front porch.
There were fifteen Oreos in the package. I asked my mom where the rest was, and she told me more would come next month. Waiting an entire month seemed like torture at that age, and made what arrived doubly crushing. Another package of exactly fifteen Oreos. It slowly sunk in to my little head that this was what winning a lifetime supply of Oreos looked like. No trumpets and fanfare, no overloaded trucks pulling in one after another. Just a little packet of fifteen Oreos on the first of every month.
Fifteen! I couldn't believe it. That wasn't even one Oreo for each day!
The grand imaginings we have as kids rarely come true. For example, I wanted to be a marine biologist. Then the whole world started collapsing and now there are hardly any fish even left, much less people with the time or tools to study them.
And yet, those packages kept coming. To my house. To the shelter. To my tent. To the stick laid against a tree with an old coat draped over it so I could huddle under, away from the worst of the rain. Wherever I went, there they were. Fresh and neatly packaged up on the first of every month, like nothing bad had ever happened anywhere.
For a long time I tried to figure out where they were coming from, who delivered them, how they were finding me, anything. I ran after every lead, pursued every theory. Aliens? Fairies? Time travel? Some bizarre joke? All in my head? But I never found anything, and eventually I gave up on finding out. I didn't want to finally get my answer only to realize it was like everything else- Like the trucks of Oreos, like undersea exploration, like falling in love. Something that seemed to exist just to disappoint people naive enough to believe in it.
Today was the first of the month, I'd guess. Haven't had a calendar for a long time, but the deliveries never fail. This time the package was placed neatly across a few sturdy branches of the tree I'd slept in, hoping to avoid the mess of trouble that had gone on below. I wasn't sure how I'd get down considering I'd messed up one of my legs pretty darn badly in the night's scuffle, but my package was close enough to reach from where I sat. Same little shipping label as always, though the address lines had been left blank since I stopped having an address.
I opened it up. You think I'd be sick of them by now, but when times are rough you wouldn't believe how good that sugar tastes. Only, strange thing, there weren't so many in the package this time. Five was all, I was ten short. I considered that maybe wherever they came from was running out, or that something else had gotten to my supply before I had. Then I considered something else.
A lifetime supply of Oreos.
I guess this is my last one.
| Do you remember all the Oreo contests? The ones where if you had the special cookie design or special colored filling you had found the proverbial golden ticket? As a kid, I was obsessed. I spent all my spare money on Oreos. Package after package. My parents thought it was cute. My friends thought it was awesome.
It was an obsession that paid off. I found one of the winning cookies, and I won free Oreos for life. Every month, I received a shipment. The postal carriers would make jokes about the oreos, and I would laugh and give them a package.
This went on for years. Until nuclear war broke out, and the country was obliterated. I survived, so did my father. But we lost my mom and my sister. We only survived because we had gone to tour a college campus that was in the middle of nowhere. Far enough away from the epicenter of the blasts.
We lost everything. We couldn't go back for months the area was so irradiated. We, along with other survivors did what we had to. Raiding, stealing… dad even had to kill someone.
The first package of Oreos, sitting alone on a shelf in a looted out store seemed like a joke. We took them, and enjoyed talking about mom and sis as we ate.
The second package was less of a joke. We still had a functioning minivan, and when we returned to it, a package was on my seat.
Over and over for months, packages would appear in places they had no business being. We thought we were being stalked. Hunted. But no one ever came for us. So, eventually we just accepted the Oreos and moved on.
Until yesterday. The package we found yesterday had been opened, and on the inside of the peel back top was a note. A note summoning us to the Oreo factory in New Jersey. So now, intrigued, we are on our way.
r/LandOfMisfits
Edit: Capitalizied Oreo's
Part 2:
The trekke took us months. Even though we had a functional van, the roads were in horrible shape. Burned out husks of other cars sat desolate on the road. We didn’t hurry - I mean, what? Was the world going to end? Again? Still, the steady stream of Oreo’s continued. No more opened packages, no other sign that we had been summoned.
Many times Dad asked if I was sure that I wanted to go there. He felt we were being led into a trap. I reasoned that we had been eating the Oreo’s for months. If someone wanted to hurt us, all they had to do was poison them. It’s not like we checked anymore. We saw few enough people that we had let down our guard.
I did wonder though. Why me? I had been a small child when I first won the endless cookies. I had thought maybe at first it was someone from our past, but as we travelled farther and farther away from our home, that likelihood decreased exponentially. Not to mention the fact we never saw anyone leaving the packages. It kind of reminded me of the Santa figure from my childhood.
As we passed through DC going north, we passed through one of the largest reestablishment settlements we had seen. More people than we had seen in a long time. Full camps of people, most of which warned us off our journey north. Philadelphia, we heard, was where the first bomb hit. We would have to travel through the irradiated zone to get to the factory.
We stayed in the camp for a while, trying to decide our next course of action. That was, until the rate at which the Oreo’s appeared rapidly increased. First it was one when I was walking, then another on a bench that I was just about to sit on, then a whole pile on my bed that night. Whoever needed us there was in a hurry. We were on the road again the next morning. We chose to go up the coast, as close to the ocean as we could.
At some point we had to figure out where we were going. We knew that the cookies were baked in New Jersey, but honestly, neither of us had ever been there before. I sure did miss the internet. We had maps and postcards and stories of people who remembered from before the bombs. Together, we were able to form a picture of where we were going. Just north of New York city, in a place that I thought was part of New York State, a small town called Fair Lawn.
Traveling in New Jersey had been hell. Dad had gotten sick from the radiation, and I couldn’t remember if I had hair on my thighs or not before we entered the area. Reaching Fair Lawn was like a breath of fresh air, something that I could only recall from memories. We found a nice home to stay in, evacuated at some point with the owners to never return. The house we chose even had a bathroom decorated with Oreo paraphernalia. We had a good laugh at that one.
We slept well that night. however, we woke up to a pile of Oreo packages on the ends of each of our beds. After we dressed and walked outside, we saw something we could hardly believe. Thousands of empty Oreo packages rolled down the street like dried tumbleweeds, caught on bushes and trees. As we walked to the factory we realized that was all just a distraction to the real issue. We were not alone.
Hundreds of people were camped outside of the factory. Many standing in line, holding notes or packages, just like mine. Summoning them here. Just like me. Ever cautious, Dad and I backed up to our temporary home. We debated what was going on, until Dad decided to find out what was going on. He had me stay back, and took my note with him.
Now, I’ve never been one to listen, so of course I followed him. Just in time to hear, “So you’ve been chosen too? You were also a lifetime supply winner? We all are.”
r/LandOfMisfits
| 2019-01-04T10:08:48 | 2019-01-04T08:50:23 | 7,531 | 1,527 |
[WP] The most difficult part of being a Supervillian? Find love, not because other people won't like you, but because the stupid Superheros will swoop in and "rescue" your date every time, but this time you have a plan, and it's going to work. | *Any moment, now.*
I glanced to the windows and skylights that drenched me in sunlight, panels of crystalline glass so huge that a blind man could pick me out from the amongst the diners. On second thought, picking a location with so much fragility may not have been a stroke of genius.
"Are you okay, dear?" my darling Sophia asked, her voice sweeter than the tiramisu before us. Natural light scattered in her sapphire eyes, bouncing, like a set of mirrors in the ocean.
I wrinkled my upper lip, itching under a mustache, a wiry, rough thing, like strands of a broom. "Yes, yes. My mind is just... Preoccupied," I replied, glancing to my hands, hidden beneath the table, wincing.
She frowned, but turned back to her dessert. This was the sixth attempt now, and the first time we'd even made it past hors d'oeuvres. Of course, we spent most of our time together in private, but it isn't fair to keep hidden a woman commanding such beauty and presence. Imagine finding the most beautiful exotic bird, a magnificent beast exploding with color and grace, then stuffing it into a cardboard box to shove under a bed.
The fact that they still hadn't arrived was amusing, if nothing else. Wrinkling my lip again, the thought of it made me chuckle despite a sense of looming dread. There would only be one chance.
Thoughts shattered in my mind with the skylights, an ear-piercing crash that threatened everyone below with shards of glass like icicles raining from the sky. Of course, none of it hit us. *He* would never let it.
'Strike Team 6', they were called, a band of mercenary superheroes that have held sway over the city for years now. Each of them had militaristic might that threatened the greatest army.
"Do you not learn, Cobra?" one of them asked, approaching me. Their leader, the fabled King Crusher. He was a brute of a man, one that hardly looked like a superhero.
"Unfortunately, I have yet to learn how not to need food." Upon wrinkling my lip again, I noticed a distinct lack of the wiry itchiness. Cheap little thing.
"We're not here to monitor your dieting habits, jackass," he replied, taking a step forward. "You've moved against civilians in the past, what would you expect us to do when you suddenly put yourself in a building with eighty other innocent people? It doesn't matter how long you've been quiet for. One drop of that poison of yours could kill a whale in twenty seconds."
I glanced down, flushing slightly.
"Though," he continued, "I will admit that stupid mustache threw us off a little bit. But the ruse is over, now. Just come quietly with us. This doesn't need to be hard."
Squeezing my eyes shut, I took a deep breath, then straightened my back. "Crusher, if I may... could we please finish our meal? I've been with this woman for half a year, now, and it feels like this is our first real date. It's not completely ruined, yet."
The hulking man eyed her with the assessing judgment of a general. There would be nothing for him, though. She was an average woman in only one way: mutations. Sophia was a normal person without power or ability.
"Why would I trust you?"
"Well, for starters, you've done more damage here than I have." He raised an eyebrow at my comment.
I took another deep breath and raised my hands in front of me, earning a few shouts from the crowd and tensing amidst ST6. Flinching, hissing, I slowly and crudely peeled off the crimson gloves on them.
*Sorry, Sophia. I know you didn't want this, but there's no other way.*
A few groans sounded through the crowd, and even Steelheart gasped a little. Underneath the medicated gloves, effectively just bandages that looked nice, my hands were mangled. Swollen, matted, shiny and marked with the black, dashed lines of sutures, where there had once been venom sacs, there was now only pus and pain. The mutation had been deeply embedded in my wrists, entwined with my nerves and ligaments, and... difficult to cut out, like trying to unroot a great oak tree, even with a healing mutant aiding me. Repair would take weeks of repeat sessions, the damage was so bad. Painkillers kept it manageable enough not to cry.
Crusher stared at them, contorting his face with disgust. "Why?" he asked quietly, eyes locked on the mangled flesh.
"She's worth it," I replied, turning back. Sophia had a delicate hand over her mouth, poorly containing violent sobs. "I would give up anything for her, Crusher. Even my identity."
*/r/resonatingfury* | I'd tried every thing. Disguises, Netflix and takeout at their place, a romantic picnic in the park, even asking out the chief of police to try and find a way to connect with a special someone.
Each time it failed. Not because of anything I said or did but because the it never really got that far. The Hero Squad always busted in, arrested me, took my date and any witnesses in for extensive questioning before eventually letting us all go and leaving ME with the repair bill.
No more.
I was sick of the constant invasion of my privacy. Sick of having my assests frozen because of baseless rumours - well not entirely. My regular self had my fortune through weapons tech and then invested into media. I then used this to fund my villainous schemes. The Hero Squad, stupidly, thought my villanious ego had stolen the funds or that I was being brainwashed or blackmailed into supporting them.
The baselessness came from anytime anyone online said that "I bet Negasonic Ninja" was behind it." Boom, just like that, assests frozen, home under surveillance. Couldn't even leave my house to walk my dog without helicopters and Zero Squad cutting me off down the block.
First time was a tsunami in Asia. Second times was a volcanic eruption in Hawaii. Most recently a well recieved film wasn't nominated for an Oscar. Which was stupid as MY Company had been responsible for financing it through one of our subsidiaries.
My competition was having a field day. My real life self was suffering because Hero Squad was lazy and reactive. And when they ruined a date I'd finally snagged with Mesmiro, a young and intriguing super villain, I had to put my foot down.
The fine irony was I hadn't DONE any acts of villany after watching "Kingsman". Business influence could get me what I wanted more effectively than any laser or brainwashing.
I hear the questions you're asking. "Why not just KILL the Hero Squad? Why not date as your real life identity? And what was up with your villain name?'
Answers:
Hero Squad didn't fight fair. And they had the backing of every type of law enforcement to end a confrontation with a villian by any means necessary. Not down to mess with that.
Why not date as my "real self"? My alter ego was the 25 year old Ali Landry, tech genius and CEO. Problem was not many believed it. Starting out I had used my uncle to secure loans and do business deals as who would take an 18 year old girl seriously in those settings?
But it worked too well. People believed my uncle was the power and control of the company. Anyone interested in Ali wanted my money, a job, an introduction to him. It was beyond comprehension that a young woman could be sucessful in business and good at tech.
And my name. I chose my villain name when I was 17, ok? I thought it was cool and it's too late to change now.
But now I was going to be free of all of this. All the planning, talks and carefully laid work was about to pay off.
I called a press conference, a big announcement and a new direction for the company. The press was waiting eagerly as my uncle and another well dressed man, the key to everything, sat quietly on stage. It was time to begin.
I walked out on stage as Negasonic Ninja and the press went wild. Shouting, cameras lighting up the room unbearably bright.
"Please. Settle down, I would like to read my statement."
The press quickly quietened down. Either it was an evil plot or the scoop of a century and they were eager to find out which.
"As you know I am a super powered person by tthe name of Negasonic Ninja. For 4 years I tried to take over the world and shape it into my ideal vision. A utopia of peace, equality and technology. I wished to overthrow the unjust systems and rulers that kept Earth from being a paradise. But I gave up on that 3 years ago when it became apparent that the corruption that I tried so hard to fight had tricked all of you into believing I was a bad person, that I had bad intentions.
For though I had completely ceased all criminal activity a poor innocent civilian, Ali Landry, was persecuted for my past actions. Even today, we see, yet again, her company and personal life held prisoner by the so called "good guys" who are nothing more than puppets to her competitors.
Why though? Her company is environmentally sustainable, pays well and has a diverse culture and is not involved remotely in anything unsavory. I suspect this has more to do with her being a young woman in tech with a new way of doing things and amazing breakthroughs than anything I had ever done, even though we have similar thoughts about world improvement.
And so, to stop her suffering I announce my retirement from villainy. I will be leaving immediately to an undisclosed location to live out my days in a self created utopia and let her get on with her life. Thank you."
I stepped away from the podium, the press erupting into a flood of noise as I moved to leave. My robot of Ali me stepped to the podium and the press started to quieten down again. I pressed the button on my wrist to run the pre written speech response. I also turned on the thought control to link us.
"Thank you, Negasonic Ninja. I was unsure of your intentions when you initially asked to hold this conference but now I am sure agreeing to this was the best outcome.
As you can see there is no link between Negasonic Ninja and I. And I, as a private citizen, am sick of having to endure being a victim of a witch hunt anytime her name gets mentioned.
My home and bank accounts have been combed through no less than 7 times and there has never been a link found between us. My lawyer (hand indicated to the well dressed man sitting on stage) has helped me draft and file paperwork against the Hero Squad.
Harassment, stalking and damages to my business and reputation worth millions of dollars. And I'm filing a restraining order against their leader, Incredi-man.
The damages these so called heroes do under the protection of real criminals has to come to an end. I implore you, if you've ever suffered because of them, please contact my lawyer. The details are available on my company website.
The robot of me turned to villain me.
Thank you, Negasonic Ninja. I believe you have a plane to catch. Then she walked off stage
Real me slunk outside and quickly disappeared into a bathroom, changing into my regular clothes. Robot me walked off stage into a waiting limo while my uncle and new lawyer dealt with the press. As it rounded the corner it stopped and I climbed in. Ah the joys of self driving, programmable cars.
Another one had left 5 minutes earlier to go to a small airport with a private jet and an off the books flight to a private island I owned.
Let them chase a ghost. They wouldn't dare touch me again.
Arriving home 20 minutes later I was just entering my main house when my lawyer called.
"That went better than I expected."
"It went exactly to plan. And I think we should celebrate. Say dinner at L' Augusta? Around 7?"
"Its a date."
I smiled and hung up. Villain me might be retired but real me was about to go on hopefully the first of many dates with my lawyer. Who also happened to be Brainiac, a villain long thought dead and who had given me my way out. | 2022-11-30T23:13:37 | 2019-02-23T08:21:21 | 1,144 | 14 |
[WP] The most difficult part of being a Supervillian? Find love, not because other people won't like you, but because the stupid Superheros will swoop in and "rescue" your date every time, but this time you have a plan, and it's going to work. | "I GOT HIM!!!!" she laughed. "I finally got him!!!"
she blew the tip of her ray gun, as if to blow the smoke away.
I blinked, staring at the crumpled body of my nemesis...his Cape a melted ruin. My stomach churned. I felt...
"oh I am having desert tonight!" her dark red lips curved upward. An adorable dimple popped out of one cheek. she popped the ray gun back in her purse. She stopped when she saw my face.
"oh no, did i... I just stole your moment didnt i... I just...I'm SO TIRED of that misogynist lump ALWAYS trying to rescue me...like i cant handle myself. I'm a freaking black belt Clark, I dont NEED you swooping in and beating my contact senseless before I can get any information out of him. And you know what? last time you saved me? I FELT that hand on my ass" She kicked at the melting river of polyester. She turned to me" I'm so sorr..."
"STOP!" I said holding up my hand "I dont want to hear any more apologies. Just tell me ONE THING"
She nodded, smile gone.
"How on EARTH did you get a laser got enough to cut through his body, and not melt the barrel of the ray gun?" I squeaked, reaching for her purse, "may i...?"
Her whole face brightened. She laughed, like bubbles of champagne. The dimple deepening.
she swatted hand away. "After dinner!"
" your lab or mine?" I smiled following her in to the restaurant. | I grabbed the detonator and with a deep breath I slipped it into the specific pocket in my boot.
Before too long he will arrive. I peered across the roof top and looked for the place I knew he would come from.
The ‘actual’ bomb is over to the east, in a secure prison for the lowest of the low, so he will expect me to be looking that way, so we will probably come from the west.
I slowly walked over and lay over the wall of the building and waited, my heart was in my mouth as I looked out at the horizon. The building, the parks, it was a beautiful view.
Before too long he flew up with the sun behind him, his silhouette making me flush red slightly.
“We reallly have to stop meeting like this.” I teased, my stomach lurched as his silhouette became clearer, but I refused to let it show.
“Then you have to stop trying to kill people.”
“Eurgh, you are so difficult to love.” He flew over me and stood on the far end of the roof against the wall, surveying the space between us. I flicked over one leg, then the other, so I was sat facing him. I placed my hands on my thighs. “And we have been over this. They don’t really count as people.”
“It doesn’t matter what a person does - they don’t deserve to die.”
I wanted to argue, he never understood. But I kept my eye on the prize.
“Don’t you remember when we used to fight crime together.” I said, putting on my most sensual voice.
“Of course I do Daphne.”
“Well then Fred.” I leant forwards and slowly stood up and walked over to him, swaying my hips ever so slightly, I felt like a snake charmer - using my body as the flute. “Don’t you think we can help each other again?” I placed my hand purposefully on his chest, dragged it up his neck and through his perfectly placed, blonde hair. “Gosh, you haven’t lost a single strand of this have you?” I asked, pulling myself closer to him, and slightly grabbing the scruff of delicate hair that I held in my hand.
“U- no- but-“
“The mighty Fred, lost for words. What? You didn’t come with a plan?” I pushed myself even closer against him. “You know, you’ve been mighty possessive over the years, and I have to wonder why.”
He cleared his throat “because it’s my job.” He went to take a step back but was greeted by a short, concrete wall.
“Well, that’s very interesting. Because the last three ‘victims’ you ‘saved from me’ were not ‘victims’ at all. And you knew that, didn’t you?”
“Not the first one.” His eyes went to look at the floor, but there was no gap between us to allow him to do so, he ended up just looking at more of me. He blushed, and I laughed.
“Fred, if you wanted me to yourself...” I raised myself up so my lips were next to his ear and whispered “You should have just asked.” I pulled away and locked my eyes onto his.
“I can’t. Not with what you’ve done- and what you do.” He went to place his hand on my shoulder but I held it with mine.
“You can’t have me, so no one can? That kind of behaviour can get a girl reaallly frustrated.” Keeping the eye contact strong I pulled my head closer to his, our noses touched, my lips grazed over his - inviting him to kiss me.
His breathing stuttered.
As soon as he kissed me passion, sadness and agression accelerated through me. I pulled myself into the kiss. He was the only man I ever loved, and he was going to insure I could never love, or be loved again. He pushed away my partners, my friends, even my family. All because he couldn’t stand who I was and wanted to make sure that everyone knew what a monster I am.
This kiss, was all I wanted. I kicked my boot with my heel and the rooftop was engulfed in an explosion.
Edit: sorry it’s so poorly written, had quite a short time frame to write... | 2022-12-02T20:53:04 | 2019-02-23T05:29:53 | 129 | 70 |
[WP] Everyone on their 18th birthday have a dream and they must pick between the red or the blue pill. These pills effect your future in drastic ways. You on the other hand decide to walk the opposite way and find a green pill. You are the first to take the green pill. | I'm red green colorblind. No one knew how big a deal this would be as I was growing up because no one knew the real impact.
Traffic lights? No problem. Top one means stop. Trickier when they turn them sideways, but it's the left light that means stop. Is my tomato ripe? I have to smell it. Is my steak cooked medium rare? I have a thermometer for that. Some electronic goods can be a bit more challenging to use, but I've always managed to get along.
No, the one place you cannot be prepared properly for is in your dreams. What if I dream about steak, but I don't have my thermometer? Can I trust the dream chef to cook it right? This had always bothered me. I like to be prepared.
I was prepared for school. I did well. Sometimes people would ask why I put in the effort I did. I don't really know; it just seemed like the right thing to do. Reading, writing, math, science, history, and technology were my favorite subjects. Maybe not in that order. To what end? I really didn't know. Especially in high school as I approached vanishing age. The whole going to not exist anymore thing tends to put people off their studies.
The teachers never said a word about it, no matter how much a student asked them. They were fully capable of conversing on any subject but this. The way they smoothly changed the subject was so natural that it wasn't. We all knew this subject was forbidden. We all had friends who had vanished. I knew someone once who kidnapped a teacher and tried to reprogram a way to override the forbidden subject or search their memory for an answer. It didn't work.
I was unprepared.
When it happened I knew it was coming. My 18th birthday. My friends had already been treating me as if I didn't exist, just like I had treated many of my friends before they vanished. What was the point of attachment? I fell asleep out of boredom.
When the teacher offered me the red pill or the blue pill, I chose the red pill. The teacher seemed pleased with my choice. Then I turned around to look for my thermometer. Why did I even think it would be there? I knew I was dreaming.
When I bumped the teacher, the pills fell to the ground. I saw the red pill in front of me, and I picked it up. I realize now the sounds I heard were the sounds of a very alarmed teacher as I stood contemplating what might happen if I took neither pill and just stood there for eternity. Rather dull. So I took the pill.
The red army and blue army still clash endlessly fighting for their robot overlords. Sometimes I wonder if it'd be more interesting to die as a pawn on their endless field of battle than sit around here. I'm the only member of the green army, and my robot overlord is called Mike.
Mike thought more people would turn around and take the green pill.
Mike is an idiot. | I was casually walking down a rather boring looking alley.
It was boring because of the simple fact that it was a perfectly normal alleyway in what was otherwise supposed to be an extraordinary dream. Dull shades of beige and grey colored the endless rows of buildings, stretching as far as one would expect an endless alleyway to stretch.
As I wandered through the alley, I remarked on the more interesting places I could be. The gym, my room, the criminal reintegration facility, or maybe the coffee-shop. Anywhere but here. But it was my 18th birthday, and so, much like standardized testing, it was something I simply could not escape.
I had been walking for quite a while when I came across a table. Two little boxes that looked like they would better suit wedding rings sat on the left and right sides, housing two pills that were red and blue respectively.
Ah, the famed red and blue pill, I thought. It wasn't all that glamorous, certainly not as much as it was hyped up on the nets. It didn't have the mystical ambiance other people had described, and in my opinion the velvet casing that housed the two pills needed a little more *pizzazz* to them.
I approached the two pills. The space behind the table had a distinct lack of old men, until the moment where it didn't. Where before there wasn't an old man there was now was, standing behind the table in front of me. "Hello young man... I would like to offer you a choice," the old man rasped out.
Our eyes locked together, I knew this was the moment when I had to say something exceptionally intelligent.
"What?"
The old man seemed to take my response as cause to continue. "It is all very simple... You shall make a decision between the red or blue pill."
The old man gestured to the red pill. "The red pill will empower your tenacity... It will provide strength in times of need, and willpower in times of stress. Whenever the light seems dim and the path is cloudy, you will find solace in your inner power."
I let out a grunt of confusion. "Eh?" The old man ignored me.
"The blue pill..." he gestured as such, "...will empower your internal self. It will allow you to find inner peace. No matter the torment thrown your way, no matter how often you are insulted or degraded or thrown into the dirt, you will always be able to get back up, and find your way through wisdom and reflection."
The old man spread out his arms. "So... what do you choose? You have all the time in the world to decide."
I frowned. "Well, I'm sorry to say, I didn't really understand what you said at all." I scratched the back of my head before turning around. "I don't feel like waiting all eternity to make sense of that, so I'll be leaving now."
"What? You can't do that!" he protested before dissolving into nothingness.
Nonplussed by the sudden and brutal demise of the old man, I began walking into another direction. That is, the only other direction, since I was still in an alleyway.
I continued walking for quite awhile before encountering a quaint looking coffee-shop. A sudden crave for caffeine hit me. I *was* in desperate need for a cup of joe, even if I was in a dream and was currently asleep. I decided to enter despite the depressing lack of old men or anyone else at all.
I walked up to the main counter of the shop, hoping I could climb over and make some coffee myself, when I came across a sight that frustrated me something awful.
"Not another one of these..." I muttered, glancing over at the single velvet box in front of me. On it sat... a green pill? I had never heard of anything like it, no one had ever told me about a *green pill...*
I stared at it for a long while. Something clicked inside of my head. I picked up the green pill, appraising it carefully. I had never had anything against the color green, it looked nice and it wasn't red or blue.
Out of sheer impulse I popped it into my mouth. I began coughing and felt a peculiar sensation in my stomach. Suddenly, as if taking the pill had triggered something, I felt the world around me begin to rumble and fall apart.
The rumbling stopped, revealing bright blue sky all around me, with a thin sliver of land supporting me from below. A light beamed downwards from above, accompanied by a booming voice that seemed to fill the room.
**"YOU HAVE CHOSEN WELL CITIZEN. YOU HAVE CHOSEN THE-"** The voice abruptly stopped. **"What? He chose the what pill? ...Did we even manufacture that one? Did this man just swallow some random pill he found in a coffee-shop?"** I tilted my head in confusion. What was going on here? Was I not supposed to swallow the green pill?
The Voice Above cleared its throat. **"Yes, yes, right. I don't think we actually had anything planned for a green pill... so, you're free to go then!"**
"Free?!" I yelled as for the Voice Above to hear me.
**"Ah yes, we'll just be annihilating your entire body. We're terribly, terribly sorry. We're just so busy and we really don't feel like sorting this out. "**
"What? You can't do that!" I protested as I dissolved into nothingness. | 2019-03-05T22:25:52 | 2019-03-05T22:02:50 | 69 | 37 |
[WP] You're one of the last remaining survivors in a Zombie apocalypse and you find yourself cornered by a walking corpse. Out of sheer panic, you reach out and bite them. The zombie drops to the ground and convulses for a moment before the skin recolours as the person sits up and asks what happened | I already had my routine, I had been living alone for quite some time now. A few months? A year? I didn't keep track.
I had a save home, in a cleared out prison.
I woke up right on time, 8 am.
Did my morning workout and jumped into the car right after.
It was Friday, resupply day.
I went to my usual spot, the big food storehouse 30 miles away.
I got out of the car and saw a few Walkers and an Irregular.
Always kill the Irregular's first, 13th rule of survival.
So that's what I did, it ran and jumped towards me as soon as I got noticed. But with my trained aim, I just needed one bullet to head to drop it.
Always be save with Irregulars, rule #17.
The Walkers I just killed easily with my knife, only 3 of them. Easy work.
Save as many resources as possible, rule #8.
I worked like a clockwork.
Got into the storehouse and picked up as many food cans as my bag could carry. And left as soon as I was finished.
Don't stay too long in unsafe terrain, rule #6.
I immediately went to my car, happy about the cans I fished out. Hadn't had chili in a while.
But as soon as I started the car I remembered I forgot rule #3, always check...
I couldn't finish my thought. A Zombie jumped headfirst into my lap, trying to bite into my guts.
I didn't have time to pull my knife, had to use my arms to withstand the attack.
With all the strength in my arms, I kept the Zombie from ripping out a piece of my belly.
But zombies were strong, I felt its fingers piercing into my flesh.
Adrenaline pumped into my blood. The Zombie was winning, its head almost close enough to tear my belly button out. I could hear the clacks of its teeth, trying to bite me.
I couldn't think of anything to do. So just bit it into the back of its head.
My teeth pierced its gooie flesh and got stuck on its rubbery skull. It tasted as it smelled like. Death.
Yanking my head back I tried to save my own skin. But I was too late, it had already bitten me.
The adrenaline left me, and my vision began to swim. But I kept myself awake, biting my tongue.
I saw how the zombie was starting to tremble, harder and harder.
I pushed it away from me, to the side seat.
I pulled my knife out to end the thing.
But then it convulsed and color returned to its pale skin.
I had never seen anything like that before.
Then it opened its eyes, they weren't the grey dead eyes zombies usually had. They were deep blue.
It opened its mouth as if to say something, but my vision went blank before it could.
I was going to die.
***
I felt a stab of pain in the back of my head. When I awoke again.
"You are back up I see, sorry for turning you into a zombie for a while," a woman's voice said, close to my ears.
I looked up, confused. I hadn't heard a voice in ages.
"You saved me. Your bite saved me. Finally, someone who did it."
I didn't respond, I just looked at the woman in front of me. It took me a while to notice that this woman looked the same as the Zombie.
"We, the infected, have been trying to signal you to bite us since day one. Once you are infected we only have one desire, to find a normal human to bite us. But that desire consumes us, and we go overboard showing you what we want from you."
I was confused. What was she saying? What was she talking about?
"We can save humanity. We just need to bite every zombie to cure them." | I was going too fast. The road began to slip away from me like gel as I skid across the yellow line, the curve, and into the tree. Dusty glass flew everywhere in slow motion. I’ve been in this situation many times, I told myself, I know exactly what to do. I’ll get out of this alive, like always. Sure, I wasn’t the best survivor out there, but I wasn’t dead, and that’s all that matters.
I immediately unbuckled my seatbelt, which honestly probably saved my life, and grabbed my satchel from the passenger seat. The car door flew open with less force than expected, and consequently led me to fall hands first into the asphalt. Satchel slung on my right shoulder, I take a sharp left around the car to check my surroundings. More than ten. More than ten fucking Fleshies. I glance right to see if the car was even salvageable, and as a surprise to absolutely no one, it was totaled. Not in “Oh shit I need to buy a new car” totaled, more like “The hood’s wrapping around the tree trunk like it’s ‘bouta give some nasty head” totaled.
The itch to pull out the 9mm from the back of my pants was worse than a thousand mosquito bites—not that it would do much good anyway, considering it only had like six bullets. But like in every zombie movie, you can outrun them—most of the time, at least. It depends on how fresh they are. What makes it hard to tell is the fact that they mingle indiscriminately. Freshies can run, while the Decoes, not so much, unless they’re really hungry, but at that point their bodies just fall apart.
It came as a worrying surprise to realize just how quickly the Fleshies came onto the road from the forest. It was also concerning to see a significant lack of rotting flesh. I mean, there was some, but not a ton. Not as much as I’d like, anyway. My worst fears were realized when they began to shuffle forward in my direction. I stepped back a little, turned forward, and started jogging. Luckily cardio wasn’t one of my weaknesses, especially with the fact that adrenaline was pumping through my skull.
Apparently I wasn’t the only Olympic wanna-be in the area, because the second I looked back, the hoard was much closer than I had anticipated. About twenty feet away. I must’ve missed the sound of their footsteps, or stomps, rather, with the thumping of my heart drowning out most other sounds, with my breathing being the only exception. I jogged a bit quicker for a while. Looked back, they were closer. I began to worry a little, as I didn’t want to get into close-quarter-combat with these assholes. One bite is all it takes, and with the pumping of my heart, I doubt I’d be able to amputate a limb quickly enough to avoid the infection. I eventually decided to sprint, against my better judgment, as even with the adrenaline pumping through my veins, I’d get fatigued eventually.
I looked back once more after a while, and was conflicted on whether or not to feel relieved. A Fleshie, probably no more than fifteen years old, was coming at me hot. It had to have been fresh. I pumped the proverbial gas as hard as I could after that and avoided looking back for about a mile and a half. My arms were the first things to get fatigued. Then my knees. Then my thighs. I decided that now was an acceptable time to look back.
Although I had gained some ground on the little fucker, he wasn’t too far behind, either. Despite the fact that this absolutely terrified me, it didn’t make me run any faster. I couldn’t. I guess this was where I have to fight, I thought, and began to slow myself down. I guess I didn’t have my footing quite right, because my left foot thought it’d be a wonderful idea to twist itself to the right and send me falling forward faster than you can recite the French translation of the American Pledge of Allegiance.
My forehead didn’t appreciate what I’d allowed to happen, and so it punished me harshly. I rolled over onto my back and saw the Freshie-Fleshie take advantage of my unfortunate circumstance and leap onto me like an ape. I flung my feet out and kicked him off me mid-air. The side of my 9mm was digging into my tailbone as I struggled to practically pull it out of my ass. What I didn’t expect was for the Freshie to recover so quickly and leap onto me when I was unprepared. Now the only thing keeping his teeth from making my neck what was probably his first meal were my left forearm and wrist. It was pushing down hard, putting all of its strength into me.
I became very angry. The sky turned grey and the trees black. I bared my teeth and roared back at the beast that befell me. We were both roaring. I looked into his eyes and all language had left me. “Hungry” was all he could tell me. Not with words, obviously, but the message was received all the same. He eventually won, and tore straight into the left side of my neck. I roared one last time and threw my face into his. My teeth got very warm very fast and it felt incredible. My mouth filled with gushing black liquid to the point of it coming out of my nose, although I couldn’t tell if it was mine or his, or both.
I somehow found the strength to throw him off of me and onto the asphalt. I couldn’t see it, but I knew my neck was turning a mixture of violet red. I lost vision in my left eye and could feel the infection pulsing through my body. I looked up to see the Fleshie’s eyes, and they no longer said “Hungry”. In fact, there were tears. I’d heard rumors of this, but never saw it. I guess they were true.
I could do nothing but laugh. Or, whatever I could physically muster, anyway. It was hilarious, really. I casually placed my palm onto the left side of my neck, stood myself up, and approached him. My smile wide, infection pulsing, and hunger soaring, I knelt over him with the last bit of consciousness I had left, and tore into his neck. The boy let out a childish shriek of pain as I laughed into his gaping throat. | 2019-06-07T18:36:11 | 2019-06-07T17:48:46 | 17 | 11 |
[WP] A severely overpowered supervillain continuously evades capture and commits crime specifically to flirt with this one police sniper he thinks is kinda cute | Officer Malone prepared herself for the worst as she entered the room. Forensics officers and meta human specialists were bustling about, focusing on the tasks at hand. Doing anything to keep their minds off the horror show around them. Malone knew the feeling. But in the end, wether it was the smell, or the sound, or the blood, you always looked. Always saw them.
Bodies. So many bodies. Malone knew it would be bad. He’d been getting more manic every year, but this was something else. Tears welled up in her eyes as she slowly took in the room. Dozens of dismembered corpses were impaled on the walls of the auditorium. All horrifically frozen in whatever pose they’d been positioned in. What painting he’d tried to recreate.
This year it was *The Fall of The Rebel Angels*. One of her favorites. The sick freak made a show of it. Recreating pieces of history and art through his twisted lenses of wanton bloodlust. Every year he did this. Every year, in the same month, on the same day. The day he’d first seen her.
Falling to her knees, Malone tried to contain the tears that were flowing freely down her cheeks. She knew he was up there in the night sky, listening. Watching. She knew he would ever word in this building, hear every footstep, every heartbeat. She knew he’d heard what she said next, no matter how quiet.
“Happy anniversary, you motherfucker.” | There was only one thing that truly would make or break a supervillains reign and that was patience. Granted with a longer life and the simple ability to teleport, one could make for quite the manipulator. In private, Steve was just your average joe who even continued working his remote IT job. Granted some of the days he had an 'intern' doing the work to cover but overall it was all predictable and almost meditative tedium. He would watch the news and read the articles online to determine just what to fuck with next. A little push here would find some panama papers leaked, a small press there and an orange faced fool would assassinate a local hero who was starting to catch on to his ploys.
Other times he would make far more public appearances, useful to make sure his villain name would hold power when spoken. The threat of his appearance making even the most secure monarch shudder. It usually kept down the hunting parties and investigators that were more malliable. There still was a few out there though, on one such outing they had managed to scope out his target. Not that they could do much, teleporting around kept him barely in the range of being targeted. Even able to jump to the rooftop the sniper rest was. A simple shot would make those working for the team to get some real fear. At least that's what he intended at first before seeing that fine piece of ass. It was like some kind of damn sculpture that belonged in a museum but there it was.
There were a few personal rules he had, keeping from falling for someone would blow his cover far easier than anything. That didn't mean he couldn't appreciate the fine work the person put into their bodies. Deciding to leave a simple flower and a simple note of 'I could have killed you' to still mess with their heads. It might solve his problem, get them to get out of the team and he would be able to get that backside out of his mind. But man it was tempting to do more, it had been far too long since he had indulged.
Still, patience would have to play out as even one fine rear wasn't enough to stop him, tempting as it was. Going on his way to continue the mix of manipulations and appearances. Though without thinking he had managed to start making more scheduled stops in one particular region. A place that just happened to keep a special sniper on duty regardless of any flower, note or threat. Likely the pattern would be found sooner than later but for now, at least you could let even a supervillain enjoy the beauty of mankind. This time though there was a note waiting for him. He took it in panic and left without doing anything further, if they knew he was there they could have a trap waiting just the same.
It simply said "I know what your looking at" as if having been caught staring in the reflection of the scope. Fuck he might have been caught looking too long, or it could just be the repeat appearances. Yet the fact was they had simply left that note with no other trick. No tracker, no bomb, no cameras as he checked afterward, and no second sniper covering the first. The next time he made sure the coast was clear in an almost feverish need to be sure. It should have put him in panic to cut ties and leave. But living so long and so alone, it was hard not to be gripped by the mix of curiosity, desire and just loneliness.
In the coming days, little trades of notes and words that would seem threats or warnings to those with out context held more meaning for that pair. The sniper found their lives somehow going a little more smoothly as if someone was helping behind the scenes. Yet despite all the talk there could be no contact, nothing more than enjoying the view. That insurmountable barrier of touch would make them both admit to what shouldn't happen. A break in their codes, yet only adding to the forbidden peach just in reach at all times with his power. Patience really is what makes or breaks a supervillian but that doesn't mean it couldn't be a punishing torture in it's own way. | 2020-02-08T09:25:29 | 2020-02-08T09:05:22 | 145 | 47 |
[WP] The instant the Dark Lord hears the prophecy about one destined to defeat him, he scoffs and notes "Standard self-fulfilling hero prophecy." before ordering his minions to go to the hero's hometown and build a bunch of public works projects, the most important of which is a school. | “Seer Griselda, please repeat that.”
Moran Ossenius, the necromancer of Yorm Urtush, tapped his fingers against his desk. The wizened old woman leaned back in her chair with her eyes closed in a trance.
“It is as I said, my Lord,” she droned. “The Hero of Light has been born. She will one day bring about your death. There will be many forces seeking to seize her power for their own. As your advisor, I suggest taking the power for yourself. Perhaps if you train her from a young age, you can avoid your fate.”
Moran sighed.
“What of her parents?”
“An orphan would know nothing of her hometown,” Griselda replied shrewdly.
He could only shake his head at that suggestion.
“That sounds like a good way to push this prophecy to completion,” he said.
“Many other forces will not be as hesitant as you, my Lord,” Griselda replied. “I am but one seer. The Hero’s birth will be seen by many more.”
As the components of her ritual burned away, Moran sat thinking.
“Then, we’ll just have to protect that town while training her, won’t we?” He said as a smile crept to his lips.
“My Lord?” Griselda asked.
That meeting would mark the conception of the Ornberg Magical Academy. Moran created the school under the disguise of a wealthy mage wanting to make use of the open fields. Over the next twenty years, he helped Ornberg grow. That little farming village transformed into a respectable trading town known to all. And when the hero, Reina Solana, displayed the magical affinity common in heroes, he was there. She joined the academy shortly thereafter.
And now…
“Headmaster…”
Tears streamed down Reina’s face. Her conjured blade trembled as she held it before her. Despite her hesitation, her training had kept her in the fight. Though neither of them had wanted to fight, she had to win.
“That was a good hit,” Moran panted. “You’ve improved greatly since you started here.”
“I… I’m sorry,” Reina repeated.
Moran let out a sigh, wincing as his side spasmed when he exhaled.
“It was that auditor, wasn’t it?” He asked. “I saw him poking around the school. Never guessed they were trying to detect my energy. Thought the kingdom was just being nosy.”
“Headmaster, I – ”
“Who did they take?” He asked.
Reina was quiet for a while.
“Cissy,” she said. “And Reginald and his family.”
“I do hope they’re more careful about who they trust in the future,” he said.
Reina did not reply, but her tears continued to flow.
“Come on, Reina,” he said. “Is that any look for a hero? You’re destined to bring this country into a brighter future, you know?”
She shook her head.
“I… I don’t want…”
Her blade nearly dropped.
“Would it help if I attacked you?” Moran asked as he raised a hand.
Her eyes widened in surprise and she tensed. He chuckled at the reaction. His hand fell. He had already expended his mana with flashy spells and threatening explosions. After all, her victory had to be hard-fought.
“Reina, let me give you one final lesson,” he said. “Prophecies are strange beasts. Try to fight them, and you often wind up fulfilling them.”
He coughed and grimaced at the metallic taste of blood.
“Old Griselda, she predicted my death almost twenty years ago. Instead of trying to fight it, I asked myself ‘How can I turn it to my advantage?’.”
Reina seemed a bit confused by this.
“It was out of selfishness that I helped your town grow. I hoped to educate the people so they could protect you and your family. Even with its prosperity, you saw how the kingdom treated those in its territories. But prophecies are strange, and I was still unable to save your parents.”
“What?” Her voice was small.
“So, I continued to run this school. They’ll no doubt destroy this place after I’m gone, but I’ve already succeeded. I was able to give you an education free from the kingdom’s propaganda. You and your friends will be the final graduating class of this little academy.”
That reminder only caused her to sniffle.
“You’ll become a symbol, Reina,” Moran said. “Let them think you belong to them. Then, when the time is right, expose their evils to the world.”
The trembling in her hands had stopped now.
“I am but a milestone in your journey to save this world. So come, Hero of Light. Use me to appease the kingdom and save your friends.”
A wretched scream erupted from Reina’s mouth as she charged forward. Moran could not dodge even if he wanted to. His body was already too heavy to move. Reina’s blade pierced his chest, but it did not hurt. He coughed slightly at the impact and watched as the rest of his blood spilled onto the stone floor.
“I’m sorry,” she sobbed as she fell to her knees.
Moran took one last breath and mustered his remaining strength.
“Wipe away the tears, Reina. I’m proud of you.”
And his eyes drifted shut.
...
Hope you liked the twist in the prophecy.
If you're interested in my works, an archive of my various writing responses can be found [here](https://cuckoosneststories.wordpress.com/).
Thanks for reading. | Velcroy the king of everlasting darkness was quite an enlightened fellow given his title.
"Sir! Sir, the prophecy, they have determined who will be the next hero of this land," Millrot, Velcroy's personal skin shifter, said.
Velcroy had the slimy-looking echo of a man watch the capital city of Juin. That was where the high order of the wizards would be.
That was where the Sightseer would be. She would determine the futures and possibilities that they would all go down on.
It seemed she had finally decided who would be the next hero.
"Go on," Velcroy said as he sat in his iron throne. The metal was darkened so black the night sky would look blinding in comparison.
"A girl! It's a girl, a young woman will rise up and kill you where you sit! She comes from Buttonwillow. A village on the outskirts of Juin," Millrot said with a distressed tone.
Millrot seemed more worried than Velcroy about all this. Velcroy was just thinking about what kind of apples were still in season. Something about the various reds, greens, and yellows an apple could take made Velcory happy. It was far better than all the oppressive darkness that was all around him.
"And," Velcroy asked as he contemplated which town hadn't been destroyed that could have an apple so red that it would be called a ruby by mistake.
"And..." Millrot started, "... and the village is small and tiny?"
Velcroy waved his hand, "I don't care about size or length of the town-,"
"Village, sir," Millrot corrected.
Velcroy allowed the interruption. Millrot had always been good at those little pesky things called labels and facts. All Velcroy wanted to do was garden and sleep. However, someone would have to be the everlasting king of darkness. Well, more like the kingdom of Yin had just assumed he was.
That's what he got for being the son of the previous king of everlasting darkness. However, his father’s darkness didn't seem quite everlasting. So why should Velcroy’s?
"Yes, yes the village. I don't care about the thing. Why should I?"
Millrot gave Velcroy a puzzled look. "It's... it's where the hero of light will come from... my king."
Velcroy placed his finger on his chin. It looked to Millrot that he was thinking about something.
"Do you think they have tasty apples in Buttonwillow?"
The question blindsided Millrot. He didn't know why Velcroy would be thinking about apples at that moment or why the king thought it appropriate to ask about them.
"I... I would suppose? But King! This is a life or death situation! If you don't destroy the village then the hero will come and will destroy the reign of eternal night!"
Velcroy shook his head and gave the slime man a surprised look. "Excuse me, but who said anything about destroying the village? We, by all means, should not do that."
Millrot's shoulders tensed. He didn't know what had happened to the king. Millrot could remember beck when Velcroy was a little child that loved all the torturing, pain, and torment his father did to his enemies. Then Velcroy went through his... teenage years as the humans called it.
Now he was going on and on about apples, bananas, and even mangoes? Who would want to have that?
"But, your malevolence, we need to destroy the hero before they become strong enough to kill us."
Velcroy wasn't even listening. He was giving a longing look to the hallway that would empty out into a kitchen. He figured some fruits might be there. He loved how sweet they tasted. Much better than the bland meats and flesh they always had here.
"Sir!" Millrot had raised his voice out of panic and not anger. He needed Velcroy to understand what was happening.
"Oh! Oh yes, yes. We can't destroy the village. If we do that then the hero will surely kill us. Remember what had happened to my father ," Velcroy said. Then his thoughts slipped back into how hard it was to grow anything here in these accursed lands. It seemed that ritual blood sacrifices made the lands not the most fertile place to plant fruit trees.
The humans had it so easy with their nice lands and their clean rivers. Velcroy's father had murdered so many that the rivers even ran red with blood now. Horrible for apples.
Millrot, however, wanted his young lord to understand the horrors that could befall them if he didn't destroy the town.
"Please, my cruelness, we need to destroy them. That's what your father would do. That's what you should do as well."
Velcroy just sighed a long sigh. He even rolled his head to add some extra drama to the display.
"Destroy this, destroy that. Kill this, murder that. That's all I hear from you Millrot." Velcroy was sick of it. He wanted to make something. He wanted to grow and nourish something for once in his life rather than take it away. He would have preferred to build something in Buttonwillow rather than raze it.
However, Millrot nodded at what the king said. Destroying and murder was the bread and butter of being a king of everlasting darkness. Not apples and jams. Only humans enjoyed that stuff anyway.
Velcroy should be pillaging, razing, sacrificing. Not trying to grow a garden in the middle of desolation.
Millrot was going to try one more thing, but then the king of darkness leapt out of his chair. With a smile on his face. "Say! You know how we have been doing all this destroying back when my father was around?"
Millrot gave the king a suspicious look. Velcroy never looked that happy while talking about destruction.
"Yes, what about it my evilness?"
Velcroy threw his hands up in the air like he had a surprise. "How about instead of destroying we could make something! Like we could build new roads, maybe a house or two, or a school... or a fruit farm," Velcroy snuck that last bit under his breath.
Millrot looked flabbergasted. In all his decades of serving dark lords, this was the first one that had ever said something this ridiculous.
"We will not be building anything for the humans! That would go ag..." Millrot then went on a tirade how un-evily it would be to help the humans.
However, Millrot didn't expect in two years to be standing at Buttonwillow Academy, home of the chosen and school for the brilliant.
He also didn't know that he would be the vice principal there.
He also didn't know that Velcroy would be the headteacher, the principal, and the gardener.
Somehow, Velcroy had managed to improve all parts of Buttonwillow and the surrounding areas.
Velcroy smiled as he saw the world get a little brighter now. He even started a new tradition with his first generation of students.
"Now children, an apple a day keeps the darkness away," he would exclaim in class as each and every student would come with all sorts of apples. Each one of the apples was some kind of red, or green, or even yellow. Velcroy had even managed to make his own strain here in Buttonwillow. A wonderful new pink apple that tasted better than it sounded.
Yet, neither Millrot nor Velcroy knew how well they both had been tricked.
The Sightseer's granddaughter lived in Buttonwillow. The Sightseer smiled to herself when the school had an fruit festival to showcase the new wonderous breeds of apples, bananas, and even mangoes that were growing there now.
The Sightseer bit into a pink apple and thought to herself something that would make any scheming dark lord proud.
*All according to plan.*
___
If you would like to read more of my stories, then they are here at r/WritingKnightly! | 2021-01-14T21:08:56 | 2021-01-14T18:52:56 | 420 | 292 |
[WP] Angels are thought to be beautiful, while demons are thought to be vile and disgusting. However the truth is Angels are extremely scary, while demons are beautiful and elegant creatures. | Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, mothers and fuckers of the audience, listen up! For I have come here to tell stories and drink rum, and I am all out of... hey, these cups refill themselves. Neat. Either way I'm about to learn you some shit that can't be un-learned once done so and I won't stop after I start. So if you don't think that you'll be able to deal with it now is the time to leave.
'Aight, now they're out of here who wants to hear the story of The First God?
Of course you do, I've been promising to tell it for long enough. Now this is dangerous stuff to know and you are not to repeat it outside of this campfire. Anyone who is forbidden knowledge adverse or midwestern in temperament may want to leave 'n go do something else this evening.
Anyone? Didn't think so. I do solemnly swear on the River Styx, the River of Night, Odin's Beard, my father-in-law's antlers, and Ishtar's ginormous pointy hat that the following story is the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth! As far as I know and excepting exaggeration and hyperbole for dramatic purposes.
*Hem hem*. IN THE BEGINNING, MAN CREATED GOD! Of course, ask any god, goddess, or half decent spirit and they'll tell you otherwise and possibly smite you for asking. It's one of the benefits of originating from Subspace. If the religion or culture or whatever says they've been around since the beginning of time then they'll have been around since the beginning of time, even if the religion was started last Tuesday. Of course, for a full blown deity to appear *ex nilho* you'd need more screaming fanatics than there have been people on the world to turn up all at once, so what you get is more minor Subspace entities gathering belief and worship over time.
Now. Our god starts out as a wind spirit, wandering the deserts in what is now the empty quarter in Arabia. There are enough people that believe in wind spirits for him to exist but in the grand scheme of things he's nothing. A modern cloud nymph would have tied him in knots. Until he finds this injured tribesman dragging himself towards an oasis. So he hauls this poor dude the rest of the way and takes care of him until the tribal dude recovers. Unfortunately, when the guy wakes up he doesn't remember dick about shit and thinks he's in some kind of paradise. And the spirit gets a little boost from that. A little hit of belief.
Tribal guy thinks the wind spirit created this paradise, that's another hit of belief. This goes on for seven months straight and by then this nobody wind spirit has become a minor deity of the back of this guy's blind faith alone. Tribal guy thinks the wind spirit-turned-god is the be-all and end-all creator of the multiverse and since there weren't as many people around then and they didn't generally think of things beyond basic spirits and entities existing, one man was more than enough to power something like that. To a degree.
Eventually the tribal guy starts calling himself Adam and soon after starts asking his shiny new god for a mate. So the god decides to stretch his new muscles and make Adam a mate with his fancy new creator powers. It goes about as well as anyone's first time using Photoshop does. I mean, she's *functional*. She does and feels all the things you'd expect of a normal human woman, but she's a bio-mechanoidal nightmare creature out of Geiger and Bosch's wettest fever nightmares. And so was born Lilith, the first angel. 'n about five minuets after Adam saw her, she was the first fallen too. | # Bargain Bin Superheroes
(Arc 2, Part 4: All the Forces of Heaven and Hell v.s. My Teenage Daughter)
(Note: Bargain Bin Superheroes is episodic; each part is self-contained. This story can be enjoyed without reading the previous sections.)
**It's unclear whether angels and demons predate organized religion.** Some historians think they were some of the first superhumans with shapeshifting, stealing their forms from local mythology in order to influence the populace. Others think they came first, and religion built itself up around them. Whatever the case, however, angels and demons are *ancient*, some of the oldest living superhumans on the planet. There are historical traces of the ageless shapeshifters bouncing around the globe, from Lesser Rome to the Welsh Empire, from the Sunrise Kingdom to the Wilderwilds, taking the shape of whatever supernatural beings the locals believed in. In Lesser Rome, they became emperors and pagans; in the Welsh Empire, they became forces of nature without human form; in the Sunrise Kingdom, they became the kami; in the Wilderwilds, they became the Rainbow Serpent and Captain Cook.
Unfortunately for them, by the time they reached the Unified Sovereignties, the closest thing we had to religious piety was serving in the military, and the closest thing we had to sin was indulging in a guilty-pleasure movie binge. Undeterred, the angels and demons did the work they always did, blending into the local culture. The demons became flawless-bodied superstars, while the angels registered themselves as supernatural beings or otherwise superhuman and enlisted in a variety of Federal-sponsored special ops units, becoming twisted monsters that hunted down enemies of the state and sent them to whatever afterlife they believed in. Nobody was entirely sure why the angels and demons tirelessly dedicated themselves to local cultural standards for the uncounted millennia they'd been alive.
But if I had to guess, it was for the sole purpose of giving me a massive headache.
"Come *ooooon*, Mom! Brouhaha's in town, and they're my *favorite* band, and if you ask them nicely they *always* give out signatures but you have to get there quickly and *nobody else knows they're here* so if you just drive me across town I can get a signature *please please please please please—*" My daughter pleaded.
I frowned. "First off, I'm busy. Second, if nobody else knows this rock band is here, how on Earth do *you* know?"
"Uh." Janice scratched her head. "A little bird told me?"
I gave her a pat on the shoulder; she didn't seem to be lying. Ah well. Keep your secrets, then. "Okay. Thirdly, I do *not* trust a rock band formed from immortal shapeshifter demons."
"Oh, come on, millions of people watch them every day. If they'd done something suspicious, don't you think someone would know?" Janice wheedled.
"She's not going to give up on this," Tupperman observed from the couch. "Besides, they're a good band."
I turned on him. "Seriously? *You* listen to Brouhaha? You're from *my* generation; you're not supposed to agree with the music tastes of my kids!"
"*It's okay to be a wolf!*" Tupperman and Janice sang simultaneously, then high-fived each other in tandem. I sighed, rubbing my forehead.
"Look," Tupperman said, "you said that you had some plan that involved being in the public eye, right? And what's better for being in the public eye than showing up in a rock show?"
Janice's eyes widened. "Showing up *in* the show?!"
I frowned, pensive. Tupperman did have a point, there. I'd pissed off someone in the Federal government who had a nasty habit of sending assassins after me; after I'd found out that there was insufficient evidence to take formal legal action, I'd been leaning on public opinion instead. I'd gone on record as being critical of the federal government; as of now, if I was brutally murdered, half the citizens of the Unified Sovereignties would blame it on the government no matter what the courts said. Whoever wanted me dead didn't want me dead badly enough to take the risk of turning a good chunk of the population against them, judging by how the direct assassination attempts had dropped to zero after my little stunt.
Perhaps it was time to take that to the next level.
I sighed. "Okay. Fine. You make a good point. Pack anything you might need, we might be out for a while."
"*Yes!*" Janice and Tupperman simultaneously crowed. I rolled my eyes at both of them. Tupperman left, presumably to grab stuff from his own house; Janice ran upstairs, shutting her door and locking it. I frowned slightly; she'd never done that before.
Then I shrugged and went downstairs, to the family hideout. We hadn't *all* been superheroes, but we'd lived on this land for generations, and over time that added up.
I pulled open a well-oiled hidden door in the wall; the décor abruptly went from homey to nuclear bunker-y. My feet echoed on the living-rock floor as I descended; the secret door re-sealed itself behind me.
I heard soft chatter from the basement: the two people I'd been sheltering in my home for the past few days. Min Min and Ito Junko, refugees from the Middle Communes and the Sunrise Kingdom respectively.
Or, as they were better known, Death and Lady Luck. A superhero and a supervillain with enough power in their left pinky to kill me and my town a hundred times over.
They looked up from their game of chess as I entered, greeting me with a smile and a nod. I grinned back at them, arms spread wide in anticipation.
"Ladies," I said. "I am *delighted* to inform you that an opportunity of exactly the kind we've been waiting for has arisen."
Lady Luck's eyes gleamed; Death pressed her lips together with grim determination.
"That's right," I said, looking into Death's eyes intensely. "It's *showtime.*"
A.N.
This is a five-part story. The remaining parts are in the comments below. | 2021-04-08T09:50:57 | 2021-04-08T07:49:36 | 631 | 56 |
[WP] A villain, in his dying breath as he's mortally wounded by the hero, uses the last of his magic in order to resurrect the fallen friends of the hero in his journey to defeat him. It sounds like a counterintuitive idea; Until you realize that some of them died at the hands of their allies. | “ you…. You think…. This is the… end for… me”
Malarik , the master of shadows and death, His strained dying breath was getting more shallow
“ they… will bring… me…. Back…. Once they know….. what befell them”
He raised his hand to the sky and a large bolt of black ichor shot out as he fell to the ground dead. He was a master of death and life magic so we doubted it was the last we would truly see of him but without any phylactery left it would be ages before he could resurrect himself alone
I wondered who “they” were that would help him but I felt a strange sensation , almost like relief… like someone I cared for has came back to me… then I knew who it was
I turned to look at the rest of my team , we had one magician on our team , his dark magics were the only thing that could break that shield on the dungeon , we lost so many breaking through the keep to even just reach the dungeon , but he never seemed to tire.
Then I seen , from just outside the room , she walked in , she was dead 10 minutes ago but now she seemed fine , until I seen the black ichor on her stomach , it festered on the wound and then started to fall off , her body seemed like a shell her mind was there but there was nothing behind it. The mage started to reel in pain , it looked like something was trying to rip itself out of him until a white shard of blinding light was pulled from his hand and returned to her body. Within a blink her blank soulless expression turned to rage
“ you bastard , I wasn’t even dead yet and you ripped my soul out , I could of lived had you used a healing spell instead!”
It started to make sense now, he was a death wizard as well and he has been fueling his powers on the deaths of our allies … suddenly more soulless forms appeared at the doors.
The mage was brought to the ground from pain as the souls of all those who he finished off were being pulled from him
“ it was the only way , I’m not evil like him but you were all mortally wounded…. I had to get strong enough to break the barrier”
He screamed in agony as another soul ripped itself free
“ every body I mark the soul will transfer to me when it dies, you would all be free again when I pass naturally to rest “
Another shard ripped forth , he coughed up blood this time
“ I have to release them all now, even his, to save myself “
The mage cut his hand and cast forth a blinding light , shards poured out including one as black as night, after the light faded he seemed to pass out , maybe dead , wasn’t sure , but then a eerie voice filled the room
“ he betrayed you and took the bait , I may be dead but my soul is free now, that body was begging to rot anyways so I had to die , I will return stronger then before in a new body , dear hero you failed , but atleast you got your friends back “
The spirit took form , it was Malarik , in his hand he had several shards
“These one’s bodies were to far gone , so couldn’t return , they will become my fuel now to fully reincarnate, until we meet again hero “
Malarik summoned a portal and flew through it
We failed , it was a trap all along. | Zempher the Lich King stumbled back grasping their chest. He looked down and could see the dark magics that have sustained him for centuries leak away. Precious dark liquid flowing out and there was nothing the undead wizard could do about it. The panic had passed and Zempher red eyes narrowed as he accepted his fate.
"Congratulations Edna, you have done what hundreds have tried. You have bested me," Zempher gasped.
Standing over the Lich was a warrior woman with dark hair and silver armor. In their gauntlet covered hands she carried a long silver spear that gleamed with holy magic, the very weapon that had pierced the Lich King's chest. The two stood upon the raised obsidian dais that held Zempher's Throne of Skulls. Below them a battle raged between the Silver Army and the remainder of Zempher's horrible legions.
Edna advanced steadily forward with the blade of her spear directed at the Lich. Zempher, on reflex, flinched and crawled back until he realized there was no point. His time on this realm is nearing an end. He knew it deep within his dark soul.
"With my family's holy spear I put an end to your dark reign," Edna proclaimed as she gripped her weapon in two hands.
"Wait!" Gasped Zempher, their red eyes closed as they expected that horrible holy spear to penetrate their undead body.
The Lich fire embers for eyes slowly opened as they realized Edna had held their blade just inches from his chest.
"I will allow you to say your final words, Lich King."
"Oh," Zempher said as he straightened his skeletal pale body that was wrapped in the darkest of black robes.
"Say it quickly Lich, there are many of your minions that I need to kill," Edna growled.
Zempher's skull like face grinned. "I will leave you a parting gift."
Edna's face hardened as she plunged her spear again into the Lich, but not before he released his final spell. The Lich cackled as the holy weapon mortally wounded him.
The air shimmered as two forms appeared beside Edna. They were human shaped and glowing with purest of white light. One had a massive frame, and the other delicate.
"I will destroy your summons!" Edna promised.
"Take a look," Zempher gasped.
The light faded to show two men, and the Silver Spear dropped to the floor with a clatter from numb hands. The two men were her dearest friends!
She ran to embrace the smaller of the two in a fierce hug. When the man's disorientation passed, he returned the embrace with an equal amount of passion and the two kissed.
"Ned! My love. I fear I would never see you again!" Edna cried.
Ned, tears in his eyes, hugged his lover. "I don't understand," he said his voice trailing off.
"And Merv, you big lumox!" Edna said as she hit the large muscular man with a punch.
"I told myself I can never forgive you for sacrificing your life on the Bridge of Doom!" She chided and did not notice the look of rage on Ned's face.
Merv chuckled like rolling thunder. "Hi E, I don't know what has happened." The large man avoided eye contact from Ned.
Zempher cackled. "Two men, one you love as your husband, and the other you love as a brother. But their love for you is the same, and yet you made your choice."
"Should we allow him to live?" Merv asked with a jerk of his thumb.
"I thought I killed him," Edna said as she reached for her spear.
"Did you not heed my words!" Zempher cried.
"What is he talking about?" Edna asked.
Merv avoided eye contact, and Ned's face was twisted in fury.
Zempher cackled. He had spied on these adventurers for years as they traveled across the world to fight him. He knew their dark secret.
"What's going on here?" Edna demanded.
"You will tell her Merv? Or should I?" Ned spat.
Merv scratched his thick mane of black curly hair.
"What Merv? What are you two going on about?" Edna asked.
"I love you Edna," Merv said simply.
"I love you too."
"No, I mean I love love you," the big man retorted.
"But, I have promised myself to Ned."
"Yea about that. In a drunken rage I killed Ned."
"You bastard! You took everything from me!" Ned cried.
"No, that is not what happened. It was one of Zempher's shadow walkers," Edna said, disbelief on her face.
"No, it was me. I did and it tricked you to think it was Zempher," Merv said.
The lich cackled, "Oh this is better than I anticipated."
"Why is he still alive?" This time Ned asked.
Merv shrugged.
"I stabbed him with the Silver Spear like three times! That should have been enough to kill him," Edna retorted.
"Enough about me! What about Merv's jealous murder and betrayal!" Snapped Zempher.
"About that. Being dead has made me think. I was wrong. I'm sorry Ned," Merv said and bowed.
Ned's face softened. "Death does put things into perspective. This is a blessing to have a second chance. Not many get this, and I refuse to live my life with anger. I forgive you Merv."
The two men embraced.
"What? NO! You must fight to the death and Edna you must choose!" Zempher demanded.
"Shut up!" She retorted as she plunged her spear into the Lich's chest.
And that was the end of Zempher, the Lich King. His final nefarious plan back firing on him, and the three heroes lived happily ever after. | 2022-09-24T15:10:14 | 2022-09-24T14:53:50 | 23 | 16 |
[WP] The princess is different to say the very least. Her face covered in battle scars instead of make up, her hands as hard as stone and her eyes more frightening than a dragon. But you must perform your duty as a knight and guard her even though she may not need your protection. | Tarquin never thought to see a look of fear on her face.
It had been his duty to escorte Princess Julia to the palace for the wedding. The Knights of the Rose were charged with protecting the High Ladies of the realm with vigilance, strength, honor, and very little discretion. As Knight Commander he had led a squad of twenty to be her escort.
Of the twenty, sixteen had made it through the desert to her mother's camp. The return trip had been worse, with snakes, storms, and bandits attempting to take their prize. In the end, he and one other knight had survived, with the Princess Julia carrying them over her shoulders out of the wasteland.
Tarquin had seen her gut seven men with the knife she was now wielding, but the one she now faced plucked it out of her hand like it was nothing. Julia's face quivered while the Royal Dressmaker continued listing the colors of silk available.
"Cream with lace for the wedding itself, with a heavy veil. Sky Blue for the reception, knotted lace for the night." The dressmaker handed the knife off to an assistant. "And bring a dressing gown so that we can burn this leather thing she is wearing."
Julia scowled. "I made this sand harness from the first desert dragon I killed. It is forged of my own hands and skill."
"Well, that explains the stitching. We'll need to replace those boots, too." As the dressmaker knelt to measure her legs, Julia turned to Tarquin and mouthed 'help me'.
He sighed and stepped forward. His oaths bound him to protect.
"Perhaps, uh— Madam Dressmaker— perhaps the princess' dresses could be made in her— uh— native style? It would not do to, well, insult the culture of the King's new allies." Tarquin stood with his head straight, looking over the top of the servants.
The dressmaker cleared her throat until he glanced down to meet her eyes. "That would be scandalous. It will not do."
He straightened his back with difficulty. A single drop of sweat ran down his temple. "Perhaps, uh, yes. Or— or, the style could be a new fashion. The ladies of the kingdom will want to... emulate their new queen."
The dressmaker held her shears like a sword. The rest of the servants had frozen. Tarquin did not breathe.
"Three sets. One in red leather. One black. One fur lined. Each will be gilded. But she will have a set of proper dresses as well. Fetch the leatherworkers!" The servants scurried into action.
Tarquin turned to see a look of relief on Julia's face. He felt emboldened as he turned back to the dressmaker. "And the dresses should be cut for full range of motion, with multiple knife sheaths. No lace."
The dressmaker did not look up from her work. "Sir Tarquin, I think it may be time to redesign your uniform. You would look fine in lace."
"No, madam, I will leave you to do your duty." He retreated to a corner. It was important to pick your battles.
\[More writing at r/c_avery_m\] | Halls of carved stone, iron gates, silver sconces, and the jewelled-eyed statues only ever had the warmth of those around them. Empty the castle was frigid. With the Barrons of the outer kingdom here to celebrate the ratification of the peace treaty, the castle was as tepid as their forgotten water goblets to Princess Brianna. Short dirty blonde hair, once rarely brushed was now neatly styled and swayed as she marched away from the grand hall.
Behind her jewelled, long light blue dress was her Knight. Noble born but as reckless as the Princess had been, Sir Malcolm tried his best to care about his new profession. He had led her through the war and returned as scarred as she was. Malcolm was one of the few who could remember the beauty before cold nights and swords took it from her.
“Sir Malcolm?” Her Royal Highness asked softly after the two entered her quarters. Malcolm never called it a bedroom as it was about the size of the ship they had sailed on. “Why don’t they look at me like they do my mother?”
Malcolm wished he could answer that question with the same unrefined, blunt honesty that the commoners loved her father for. The King, glory to him, had been one of the people. He was proudly uneducated, purposely extravagant, and, what some whispered, a willing pawn. Malcolm had worried his daughter would be the same.
War had done away with the poor, the unlucky, and those wanting change. The rich stayed rich. Those with true power made their deals and moved under the cover of masterfully crafted carriages into the country. All the while the cities were pillaged and burned.
“Because you remind them of their future,” Malcolm answered carefully. He was her protector after all. Malcolm had seen the best and worst of her. With a reverend sigh, he explained, “You are the strength of this nation.”
“Isn’t that a good thing?” Princess Brianna's cold iron soul swung hard.
“It is,” Malcolm acknowledged.
“Then what’s wrong with me?” she seethed.
“Commoners, the people,” Malcolm quickly rephrased, then quietly added, “the courts.”
“I don’t care about the courts,” she snapped, “They wanted a war they didn’t understand, wouldn’t pay for, and couldn’t be bothered with went it turned. Now they don’t want to be responsible for the outcome. Why should I care about the courts?”
“I know Your Highness,” Malcolm said and swallowed hard at the memories they shared, “I wish I could tell you that you shouldn’t.”
“Don’t,” Brianna whispered, a sudden softness in her voice, “Don’t do that.”
Malcolm only nodded. The armour that he wore now was little more than decoration. Gold and silver to match the halls, emeralds to match the colours, and little floral etchings to match the gardens of the kingdom. He missed the comfort of his old uniform but he still wore his mask at times.
“I’m sorry,” Malcolm whispered with a nod, “Look, Brianna, I knew you as the girl before you ran away. I knew the soldier, the spy, and the prisoner. They, the people, your people, know you sacrificed.”
“Isn’t that a good thing?” Brianna whispered as she stared out her window.
“They are scared you’ll want them to make the same sacrifice,” Malcolm explained.
“Shouldn’t they?” Brianna scoffed, giving Malcolm and his wisdom a sidelong glance before frowning at the city below her. Malcolm worried about her thoughts these last couple of weeks however much she played up her serenity.
“Would you want to?” Malcolm asked.
Brianna looked up at the edge of the carved stone window sill and ran a hand across the scars that raked her sharp face. Malcolm could still hear her scream from when it happened in the quiet parts of the night. One would have hoped after a couple of years the memory would fade but it came in like an old friend searching for company. Malcolm could lock the door, drown his mind and it would still play for him, clear as day.
“You sacrificed your childhood to fight in a war that you had no business being in,” Malcolm continued, “You came back out of the shadows that had claimed men deemed gifted by the gods. I watched you march through the streets. You only saw the palace. The people saw that too and that purpose scares them.”
“So what?” Brianna scoffed, “I should drink like my father and flatter those fools like my mother? Merry some inbred prince? Is that how to be a good princess?”
“That’s how to be a populist,” Malcolm explained, shaking his head, “Idiots and cowards don’t like to be reminded of what they are. My suggestion is don’t be around either.”
“May have to find a new knight then,” Brianna teased.
“I swore an oath to protect you,” Malcolm argued, “I’d fire the man who let me get away with such a simple job out of a cannon.”
“Ah, you protect me from me,” Brianna chuckled and dismissively waved at Malcolm.
“Says the girl that put a dagger through a hole in my chainmail,” Malcolm said, shaking his head, “I can’t even protect myself from you.”
“Those were good times,” Brianna agreed.
“Not that I said that,” Malcolm explained, “I have faith you’ll build those times again,”
“We’ll build them,” Brianna corrected, squinting at the city below she added, “Those idiots and cowards are going to help though.”
“Good girl,” Malcolm muttered with a mischievous smile. If anything, it was nice to hear her sound like she had found something of a purpose and he would kindle that flame as often as he could. | 2022-10-03T09:23:26 | 2022-10-03T09:22:52 | 688 | 153 |
[WP] John can see 10 seconds in to the future. Barry can go back in time 10 seconds. They fight. | It took nearly 13000 tries, thirty-six hours without sleep, reliving the same moment again and again, but Barry had his revenge.
It was nothing.
Nothing like reliving the 10 seconds from the moment he found his wife bleeding to death on the ground. Nothing like the desperation he felt as he tried, again and again, to staunch the bleeding from her neck. To find the bandages. To put her at ease. To choose his final words to her as her eyes dimmed and closed. He had kissed her, held her head, spoken softly to her, told her it was going to be alright when he knew for a fact it was not. Over and over again, for nearly three days.
He knew exactly who to look for. His spat with John had been ongoing for years now, ever since he had proposed using their powers for crime. Barry bid him good riddance, and John, angry and scared of the only human being who could counter his power, had lashed out.
Barry found John the next day, a red rage blinding him as he walked up to John sitting at the bar. John smiled as Barry approached, knowing precisely what would happen in the next ten seconds. Barry swung at him, as hard as he could, but John dodged, as ever.
Rewind.
Barry swung again. John dodged. The smirk on his face remained.
Rewind.
Barry swung again, this time running full pelt at John. John knew what was coming, but also knew he couldn't react fast enough. Barry clipped him.
Rewind.
Faster this time. Barry followed through with another punch. Finally, after a thousand tries, Barry could see the smirk disappear from John's face as he knew this time, his opponent's punch would connect and shatter his jaw.
Satisfaction.
Rewind.
This time with a threat. "I'm going to kill you John, over and over." John showed fear on his face. Maybe this was still satisfaction.
Rewind.
A heavier insult. A feint. Barry flew so hard at John he unbalanced himself, and missed.
Rewind. Rewind. Rewind. Over and over again, falling a little harder to the floor, landing a little closer. John swerved, stepped back, kicked him in the face as Barry went down. Barry's face was never bruised at the beginning of the ten seconds, but by the 23rd hour he had his nose broken by John 30 times. He had lost over 200 teeth, and swallowed them twice.
Barry had learnt about the butterfly effect. Little changes lead to bigger changes, over time. Every time he approached John, he fell differently, uttered a new insult, changed intonation, shouted, whispered. For ten seconds to be so different, the butterfly had to be perfect.
Finally, after the last rewind, the perfect ten seconds. He got the insult right, his eyes shifted to the bar where John's cutlery was, a subtle hint, he threw himself at John and missed, falling. John, a smile on his face again, picked the knife up from his plate of steak and rammed it between Barry's shoulder blades.
Barry did not know what would happen in the next ten seconds, which he thought strange, considering the intimate knowledge of the previous ten. But what he did know was that 65 seconds ago (or 36 hours?), he had called the police, an anonymous tip off to come to the bar. With an average response time of two minutes in this area, even John couldn't see he would spend the rest of his life in jail. | John Watson's parents were doctors. His mom was a cardiologist and his dad was a urologist. They often worked late, and when their on-call schedules collided, John had to spend his afternoons with Mr. Olsen, the nice old man next door. Mr. Olsen helped John with his homework and baked the most delicious cookies. And best of all, Mr. Olsen regaled him with ridiculous stories of adventures that almost certainly weren't true.
One day, Mr. Olsen showed John something more fantastical than usual. "Close your eyes, John."
John closed his eyes.
"What do you see?" asked Mr. Olsen.
"Uh, nothing, *obviously*," said John.
"Try harder. Really concentrate," said Mr. Olsen.
"Huh, that's weird," said John.
"What is it?"
"I see the room we're in. I see the TV. Looks like some movie. *Whoa!* Someone just got shot," said John.
"Now open your eyes," said Mr. Olsen.
John opened his eyes. While they'd been closed, Mr. Olsen had turned on the television and kept it muted. About ten seconds later, John saw the same scene he'd seen in his head unfold on-screen.
"How did you do that?" asked John.
"I didn't do it, John. You did," said Mr. Olsen, smiling. "You can see the future."
---
Over the next few years, Mr. Olsen worked with John to hone his gift. As John's skills improved, Mr. Olsen's mind seemed to deteriorate. He frequently forgot things that had already happened, which was understandable, given his age. Despite Mr. Olsen's declining mental faculties, he seemed to be getting in better physical shape, somehow.
When John was fifteen, his parents both died in a car crash. John was halfway across the city and hadn't been able to see it coming. He went to his mentor's house, but found that Mr. Olsen was gone. Being abandoned by the three most important people in his life simultaneously sent John along a dark path.
John dropped out of high school a year later and made his way to Las Vegas. Despite perfectly being able to predict the results of Roulette games and poker hands, he squandered whatever money he won in a variety of self-destructive ways. Drugs, alcohol, other things.
He eventually found himself in the employ of the mob. He acted as a watchdog who could predict dangerous situations just in time. And sometimes, he helped create some of those dangerous situations himself.
---
"That's ridiculous," said Barry Olsen.
"Any more ridiculous than being able to leap back in time by ten seconds?" asked the police chief.
"You're telling me this guy can *see the future*? And he's just some small-time mob guy?" asked Barry. "He should be raking in millions on Wall Street!"
"Well, all I know is what our informant says," said the chief. He smiled. "You jealous?"
"Of a psychic? Or precog, or whatever you call it? Hell yeah I'm jealous," said Barry. "But I'll stop him."
Barry Olsen had worked for the city police department for nearly thirty years. He was, until John, the only known parahuman. He could teleport back in time by exactly ten seconds, and after recharging for another second, he could go back again.
---
Tracking down John hadn't been difficult. Barry and John met in an empty parking lot.
"John Watson. I know who you are and what you can do," said Barry. "All I want to do is talk."
"Who the–" John began to talk but stopped. His eyes went wide and he started looking around frantically. Ten seconds later, he started coughing up blood. Then he was dead.
Barry was confused. He inspected John's body. No visible wounds.
---
The autopsy results were strange. At some point, John had swallowed a non-digestible capsule containing a lethal amount of polonium-210. The capsule had somehow been on a timer, and when it opened, John died almost instantly.
Inside the capsule was a note addressed to Barry. He read it and knew what he had to do.
Barry leapt back in time ten seconds. He waited a second, and did it again. And again.
---
After millions of leaps, Barry was tired. He had to wait a second to recharge between leaps, and his body continued to age the whole time. He'd gone back in time several years. The recharge times plus the times he had to stop and eat or sleep had taken a toll on his body. He was nearly sixty in biological age.
He decided to stop and see what John had been up to in John's teenage years. He visited the house where his reports said John had grown up. Barry watched a bus pull up down the street and saw a much younger John file off. To his surprise, John noticed him immediately.
"Mr. Olsen," said John. He smiled. "You know you don't have to babysit me anymore these days, right?"
"I–what?" asked Barry.
John's smile disappeared. Mr. Olsen's memory wasn't what it used to be.
---
Barry was surprised that John seemed to know him. He quickly realized that past/future Barry had forged a friendship with the boy. When Barry leapt back in time, he would often stop and spend afternoons with John, helping John hone his abilities.
One day, Barry taught John that he could see into the future.
The day before that, John hadn't yet learned how to see into the future. Barry could finally be certain that John couldn't see what was coming next.
John was munching down cookies at Mr. Olsen's house.
"Yuck!" said John.
"What is it?" asked Barry.
"There was a pebble or something in this cookie," said John. "But I swallowed it already. Can I have a glass of water?"
"Sure," said Barry.
The pebble was actually a capsule. Barry had written a note to his past/future self and embedded into a time-release capsule that would stay sealed for at least the next two decades. He filled it with a lethal dose of Polonium-210, embedded it in a cookie, and fed it to John. Twenty years later, John died.
| 2015-06-05T08:36:25 | 2015-06-05T07:58:25 | 316 | 37 |
[WP] the damned souls in hell crowded near the entrance, and Satan himself is at the gates. They are all awaiting the arrival of a unique soul -- the first man since Biblical times who was killed by God Himself. | What's there to say, really? They all knew this one would be here sooner or later. Satan looked over at the generals, taking note the anticipation and voracity in their faces. He also noticed all the tusks; there were lots of tusks. The souls of the damned came in from just about everywhere around the world. They had amassed souls from Tokyo, Japan; Moscow, Russia; Austin, Texas, but no one in a *thousand* *years* from Hanna, Canada.
The demons were too insatiably ravenous to notice the quakes throughout the realm; Satan was too giddy to notice his sequential side-stepping caused them. There were some pretty big names from this era of malevolence. Due to his good mood, the big names actually got day-passes to come see this arrival with him. They were all seated directly behind the gates: Donald Trump, The Bushes, The Clintons, Vladimir Putin, Mark Zuckerburg, Bob Ross...the list went on.
It felt like eternity, awaiting this arrival. At their table, all the big names were having the same old pissing contests they had in life, only this time about how evil they were, compared to one another.
"Well, I'm more evil than all of you combined. I know it, you know it, everybody knows it. I am so evil because I had a plan. It was a plan and it was evil because I had an evil plan..." Donald Trump Prattled on. Everyone else was rolling their eyes. Tomi Lahren was even making jerk-off motions in mockery, which caught Bill Clinton's eye; Hillary noticed her husband's sudden attempts to get Tomi's attention and slapped him. Vladimir Putin chuckled quietly and Bob Ross just smiled, staring off into the beautiful hell-fire landscape.
It was almost Bob Ross' turn when the ceremony began. The demons proceeded to chant "Natus ex Malo" repeatedly. This went on as the ground above them opened, and a staircase made of rusty nails and hypodermic needles ascended from flame. This was an event in the making since November 15, 1974. That's when he noticed. Instead of the painful descent most make, the 6'1" silhouette levitated felicitously downward, not touching a step. Finally, his feet touched ground right in front of Satan.
"I heard the Big Guy Himself sent you here from the mortal plane," the Son of the Morning probed through a sharp grin. "Says here on my clipboard: Made yet another album. **NO** **REINCARNATION** **PROBATION** **UNDER** **ANY** **CIRCUMSTANCE**." He reared up to his full size, the screams of Judas, Brutus and Cassius resonated throughout the realm as his three heads each ground their teeth. "I just have one question for you, lost soul: Can I have your autograph?" He then produced an album and a special hell-proof sharpie from within his clawed hand.
The figure took both and began to write, and for that very moment, it was almost like Christmas had come early. Returning the items, the soul walked past Satan and into the gates like he was the prodigal son, returning home. Satan looked down at the album:
"*I* *should* *be* *the* *one* *asking* *for* *your* *autograph* :)
*-Chad* *Kroeger*" | "Whoa what was that?!" - the first thought running through my mind as I'm waiting for my blurry vision to sharpen again and the shrieking in my ears to fade. I feel numb, kinda third-person-ish. Am I really falling or just nauseated and dizzy? There's no wind, but I can't feel the floor neither. In the distance I see a dim light, red, yellow, orange... flames maybe. It's getting closer, that I can tell.
"Open the gates!", the deepest voice I ever heard called out, so slow you might think it was sped down. The orange light expands in a sudden crack, stretches to a slit of blinding light. I try to cover my eyes but all I can do is watch – because I don’t have arms. The confusion upon discovering I had no body quickly makes way for my mind’s pseudo explanations. This is clearly a dream in spectator mode! If it just didn’t feel so real. But how can someone exist without body? That’s nonsense.
Unable to move my sight from the light, I watch in silence as I delve through it. Hah! I know this place! I played Dante’s Inferno. My mind is making this up, for sure!
“Who comes into my house of pain?” Yup, I know the line. “You’re Midas right? How’s it goin’?” Might as well make some friends here until I wake up.
The monstrosity is slowly coming forth, looking at me with a stern face. No eyes. Still staring. Then, after a few seconds and as quick as such a big face can change, the expression went from annoyed and unforgiving to surprised and somehow devote. “Forgive my ignorance. I did not recognize your grace. Please, this way.”
Ok what the actual fuck is going on? Shit don’t ask yourself, ask him!
“What is goi…” nope. Lights out. This time I can feel a breeze, and I am definitely falling. Rushing even, the wind is getting stronger. I wish I could close my eyes, but in this weird dream I don’t seem to have any. One-Mississippi, two-Mississippi. It’s all black now and the wind came to a sudden stop. I didn’t feel the inertia; I’m just floating in an endless black void. There’s people in the distance, yelling, screaming, shouting, maybe some kind of event. I can’t know, I don’t see anything, and to be exact, there are no people, just distant sounds. Indeterminable voices, chants… shoes? Or hooves? I hear someone walking towards me.
*click*
The lights are on. Fluorescent tube lights, popping into existence in quick succession. This is an office building, but none I’d recognize. The guy who turned the lights on however I **do** recognize. That’s me! Or at least someone looking exactly alike..
“How do you look exactly like me?”, no greetings, no formalities, this is the first thing that immediately comes out of my nonexistent mouth.
“I see you don’t remember. Calm down a bit, I’ll explain.”, he opened his part of the conversation with. Even the voice sounds like me! How am I supposed to calm tf down? “You remember breathing? Think of it, that’s how.” Great, this dude can read minds. “Yup.”, he says. So now he’s in my head. My nonexistant head. “Would you feel better with a body?”
There’s no describing how this feels, but I definitely can feel growing. I don’t even have time to think about it, it’s all happening so fast I barely finished this thought before I’m my former self again, my body and somehow even got my clothes on! “How did you do that??” I hear myself uttering - yes uttering, and I hate that word ever since my girlfriend compelled me into reading her E. L. James porn book. Why exactly did I agree to that again?
“Let’s focus on one question at a time, shall we? So, as you have already recognized, you and I look very much alike. I am Lucifer, fallen son of God.”
I can’t believe my ears. That’s the son of god? Him? **Me??** How the hell did I even get here?
“You’re impatient and I understand that. But please just listen, we don’t have too much time left. Yes, I am the Devil. No, you’re not me. You are not yourself either, though. At least not anymore. See, since you were born, both father and I have been keeping an eye on you. Not that we’d be cooperating or anything, but each of us individually had their justified interest in you. I’m sure you’ve heard that he created you folks in his image, right?” He keeps explaining while helping me sit upright. This body feels so different, I can barely control it… yet.
“Well, you’re much more than that. You’re a 99.9% exact replica of him. That’s ninety-nine-point-nine-repeating-decimal percent. All that has been missing to your divinity was the tiniest fraction of change. Now guess what happened. I don’t know what triggered it, but the moment you reached a 100%, he couldn’t risk you taking over. So he removed your body. And as you humans are built, the body is pretty much a prerequisite for life, so… yeah you died instantaneously.”
I… this is not a dream. I can feel. Pain. Burning. Can’t move.
“Shhhh, don’t think. It’s too late for you anyway.”
Too late for what? Why can’t I move?? And why did you give me my body back when that’s the reason I wound up here in the first place?
“Because that’s the last thing that I needed. Literally.”
I see a grin on his face and a sparkle in his eyes. The lights turn out, all simultaneously, and I can see those sparkling eyes come closer.
“And now I’m taking over…”
| 2016-10-14T08:35:55 | 2016-10-14T07:47:14 | 21 | 13 |
[WP] You're a scientist studying bacterial colonies. One day, you look under the microscope to observe strange shapes that, on a closer look, resemble letters. The bacteria are greeting you and have a message for you. | *STOP MEDICINE! WE DESERVE RIGHTS TOO!*
I couldn't believe it. HIV wanted rights. One second I'm working on a vaccine, the next I'm talking to a virus.
*I WAS MADE THIS WAY! I CANT CONTROL HOW NATURE MADE ME!*
So HIV viewed itself as a collective whole rather than individual cells... Interesting.
*SORRY "WE"! WE WERE MADE THIS WAY! YOU'RE KILLING US! STOP!*
Okay, so they all view themselves as individuals. Never in my life have I viewed my work as how to effectively kill other sentient organisms. I pondered the ethics of killing this creature and debated whether or not to continue my research.
*NOT ALL OF US ARE BAD! ONLY THE ONES THAT TURN INTO AIDS!*
-All of a sudden, the senior researcher, aided by his cane, walked in. I showed him my findings.
*PLEASE STOP! YOU'RE KILLING US ALL! HAVE YOU NO HEART!?*
"This is the one, this vaccine" the boss said. I looked at him in disbelief. "Don't look so surprised, this happens every time. I worked on the Polio, Measles and countless other vaccines. They do this every time."
"Like, talk back you mean?" I asked
"Yes of course! How else would we know that the vaccine works?" | I slide the key card in the key read and wait for the locks to unlock the door. *click* I push the heavy steel door forward. "I swear that door gets heavier every time," I mutter to myself. I wait in the decontamination chamber to clear me. I get cleared and start to walk to my station. On the way there I pass other stations looking at different colonies. There's Connor looking at Magnum Rubrum, Francis still looking at the common flu, and Mike sleeping at his desk after pulling an all nighter. Again. I get to my station and power it on. "Good morning Will," said Stanley, my AI assistant. "Good morning Stanley. Any developments on the colony?" I ask. "Nothing has changed since 8:30:03PM." Stanley reports. I walk over to the microscope and look down at the colony. The same black dots I've seen for the last 4 months. I zoom around the slide to see everything. As I do so I see some of the bacteria start to move. Intrigued I zoom in on one that looks like its convulsing. It starts to change shape into what looks like the letter H. I look around and some of the other ones do the same movement and start to look like letters. "Stanley are you recording this?" I ask. I hear a beep as he starts to record. "Sir should we inform someone about this?" Stanley questioned. "No not yet lets see what happens," I say focusing on the colony. I zoom out to see more of the colony. Some of the bacteria starts to move to form what looks like the word Hello. Then Will. My heart skipped a beat when I read that. *How does the bacteria know how to form words and better yet know my name?* I think to myself. I look back at the microscope to see the words 'You're safe'. "Stanley call Sarah, David and Morgan right now," I say with a hint of fear in my voice. "Right way sir," replied Stanley. I look around to see Connor, Francis, and Mike standing together with their backs to me. "Hey guys come look at this," I yell at them. They don't move. I stand up and walk over to them. I pull on Mike's should to turn him around. I jumped back when I saw his face. All his veins were black and his eyes were pure red. I look over at Connor and Francis and they both look the same. "Umm sir you might want to see this," I hear Stanley say. I slowly walk back to my station while watching those three guys. "What's wrong Stanley?" I ask. "The colony has another message for you." I slowly turn toward the microscope. *Oh boy* I think. I look down the lens to see the words. 'Don't be scared'. "Oh hell no. Stanley its time to go," I say as I jumped back from the microscope. I grab my key card and start to run towards the door. Stanley launches his probe to follow me. I get to the door and fumble with my key card to get it in the reader. "Where are you going Will?" I hear a voice behind me say. I stop instantly and slowly turn around to see my three friends. "We can't let you leave Will," said Francis. "Stanley where was this colony brought in from?" I ask nervously. "Specimen 32a was brought in from ruins near Olympus Mons, Mars on Tuesday March 2^nd 2140," replies Stanley. "Inform the company that all other Specimens from that area should be destroyed immediately, along with this facility, " I say slowly walking backwards. I slide the key card through the reader and quickly open the door. I shove Stanley into the decontamination chamber with my key card. "Go Stanley!!" I yell as I feel hands start to pull me back. The last thing I see is Connor, Francis, and Mike standing over me smiling. | 2017-01-01T15:36:34 | 2017-01-01T14:16:54 | 37 | 14 |
[wp] Humans have the shortest life span in the universe. This is also the reason they are the most feared. | Porter grinned maniacally at her captors, one eye wild and the other swollen shut from a wicked-looking purple contusion. She spat out the blood filling her mouth and spoke with the rasp of a half-crushed windpipe. "You boys ever heard of locusts?"
Their lateral frills twitched in confusion. She laughed, then groaned when the motion jostled a broken rib.
"Sons of bitches will eat anything, and I mean anything. So damn hungry that our primitive ancestors - that's right, you grognards, we used to be worse - our primitive ancestors named locusts a sign of the end times. You take one locust, see, and it's just a bug. Sure it can take a nasty bite out of you, but you smack it hard enough and it dies. A swarm, though? Tens of thousands of those little fuckers will eat you, your family, your livestock, your shelter, your crops, and even if you survive you'll be hard pressed not to starve to death."
Another lateral frill twitch, now combined with a lifting of the dorsal ridge that meant annoyance, derision.
"Enough. Tales of your Terran fauna shall not delay the inevitable." One advances, grasping a freshly-sharpened Tar'hkaa to deal the final blow.
"Oh, no, you are mistaken. I'm not delaying anything. I'm warning you-"
Porter is cut off as the Tar'hkaa slices through her lower abdomen. Her executioner turns, their duty done, but she uses her last breath to finish her dire prediction.
"We're... the locusts."
| "Redran! What are you doing? Get away from that thing!" Blornof said in the highest whisper he could do without waking the sleeping beast. Redran was right over the creature getting ready to touch it.
"Come on Blornof don't be a Rhombus, We've already passed the dare by coming up to it's den. If we touch it we'll be legends" Redran whispered back his hand dangling over it as Blornof shook his head.
"No way man, if you have a death risk. You can feed it by yourself. I'm getting out of here." he whispered back heading for the door as the creature started to grumbled and stir.
Blornof and Redran froze, Redran's 5 legs shaking in fear "Dude, help me. I can't move" he pleaded near silently to his friend as Blornof looked incensed.
"Do you think I can? I should never have let you drag me down here. Who cares if Adrock the Juleball player likes us if we're dead!" he said raising his voice a bit too high as the creature sat up, yawning, it's eyes opening when it spotted the two boys it's pupils shrank as it screamed "Aliens!"
The utterance from the creature got the two boys into action as they ran back into the corridor. However their escape was blocked. 2 other creatures had been awoken by the first's scream, much larger than the one they were fleeing for.
"Oh my Norbla! There's more of them! We're screwed" Blornof yelled as Redran clung close to his friend "Just stay calm, these things have such short life spans, they might drop dead before they reach us" he said trying to reassure him.
"Yeah but that also means they have nothing to lose Redran! These creatures could do anything! They're too unpredictable!" He said as the creatures started closing in on all sides.
The little one had a metal club now, while one of the two larger creatures had what looked like a rudimentary Slug Slinger, aimed at them.
"Oh no...they're armed! They're using tools!" Redran said as Blornof's seven eyes darted around looking for another way out. Spotting a door they could reach, Blornof's suction cups grasped his friend dragging him through it.
"Oh my Norbla Blornof, those creatures. In the few 1/60th Rotations we've been there, have already evolved to use tools! Their short life span allows them grow and learn at an accelerated rate. It's game over man, They'll likely break in here with laser rifles in a few 1/3600 Rotations." Redran said panicking as Blornof slapped him across the face with his right 4 tentacles.
"Don't panic now! You got us into this mess, but I'll get us out look!" Blornof said pointing at a porcelain device nearby.
"An unguarded hyper tube! We're saved!" Redran said embracing his friend as Blornof nodded "You can thank me later let's go" They both stood in the bowl, and pressed the engager.
The tube engaged dragging their amorphous forms into the system, before dumping them out into a large pleasant smelling chamber "That was close. I can see why they warn us about those creatures. Their short life-spans make them terrifying!" Redran said as Blornof nodded.
"Agreed, but we made it through and that's all that matters. Come on let's get out of here."
"Should we let Ardock and the others know we won the bet?" Redran asked as Blornof shook his head
"We don't need to hang out with those losers. They might be varsity julesball players, but did they survive a creature attack?!"
Redran's face lit up "Oh yeah! When the rest of the students at the academy hear about this we'll be legends!"
"Yep, we'll be set for the rest of Higher Education, all 150 orbits of it!" Blornof said slapping tentacles with Redran as they made through the chambers. Proud to have survived a brush with the most dangerous creatures in the galaxy, human beings.
| 2017-10-24T10:08:04 | 2017-10-24T08:31:22 | 63 | 14 |
[WP] You've been a History teacher for 30 years, never gotten a single fact wrong. One day you become suspicious, surely I should've gone wrong somewhere? You test a theory by purposely being incorrect, suddenly, history rewrites itself. | I am a history teacher at a high school in a rural area of California. I am proud to say I know all the facts of yesterday. However, the last few years I have begun to question things - mostly due to my governments inept ability to be transparent.
One fateful Monday afternoon I was in class and we were talking about the history of the 9/11 attacks. The students were left to discussing their opinions on some topics and then to write a short essay for me when I overhear, "What if 9/11 wasn't planned by the Taliban?"
"You're right. 9/11 was planned by our government and cover......"
...
"Teach?"
"Sorry?"
"You've been out of it for a minute - again"
"What were we talking about?"
"The civil war of 2002"
"Oh, right, I seemed to have lost my place. Let me start over.." | Why must we hold our values as superior to the ones from decades past? I know what you're saying...because *we know better*, and damn it if I didn't agree.
They say the road to hell is lined with good intentions. What's one little lie? One litte improvement to history? Surely we could have done without silly little mistakes, without the worse of humanity, like slavery, the world wars, so much lycra in the 80's. You know, things that we lived to regret as a species.
I had the power. It was something I had first heard in one of my rare glimpses onto the tv, when I was not studying, "I have the power", He-man would shout. Little did I know that I had a power. Reality morphed itself to my will.
Oh not in big ways, I didn't stand out. Who knows what the world - the world I could control - would do with such an information? Surely imprisionments and briberies.
I could be the worse threat the world had ever had, if not for the fact I wanted to do good. Good, such a simple, concept, it's an ideal, one which is to be followed.
As a history buff, of course, I knew that the definition of good changed constantly, with those in power, with the views of society. But well, I had been brought up a certain way. While teenager me defiantly shouted order, mature ol' graduate me didn't think it so.
There had to be order, right? It was small things at first - The library of Alexandria doesn't burn, we never lost the way to speak ancient hebrew, or the old old sprawls of Greek. Many lost stories I recovered..
Only I didn't think them right. I'm not much of a poet, surprisingly, my creativity limited and imagination lacking. It was the reason I was so into history, every tale to entertain me had been written.
But when I got my hands on some lost scrolls - or not some lost scrolls as it was for the rest of the world, I could see my influence. It was just how I imagined them, it was as if I had written them, plotted them and executed them. It was my writing - or at least the wildest deviations of my mind. Hauled as genial.
And what of war? What of Lycra? Every action has consequences, every string drawn and touching another one, like a cobweb. Events are set to repeat, but what if you remove the first instance? What do they draw on?
What of advances due to the Cold War? What of the foundation of our modern economic system and the abandonment of the gold standard? All those came from tragedies - truly horryfing things - but even in blight there's progress, there's hope.
I am here to say, I'm at fault. The world is a desolated, backwards place.
I thought to be getting rid of hatred and war, and millions of deaths. But it's no man's job to mingle with fate. I might be all powerful. But I'm not all knowing.
And, as I stand over a world, a world I barely recognise anymore, all I can say is. I'm sorry. The back of my neck sweats with every factual mistake soon to be fact, the tendons in my hand are tense, and my teeth chatter.
And though I'm ultimately aware of just how wrong - and dangerous this is - I cannot have it in me, to leave it. - My intentions were good I assure you.
Please...believe me?
.
.
.
Please?
| 2018-07-16T12:19:50 | 2018-07-16T11:20:51 | 848 | 38 |
[WP] You are God, after a couple thousand years of people thinking you don't answer their prayers, you realise you've had yourself on mute on the celestial microphone you use to talk to humans.
Edit: Wow, I never expected this to blow up, Thank you for the silver, it was my first ever award!
Edit 2: GOOOLD! Thank you all for such positive feedback, I'll come up with some more prompts soon, and I've written a few replies myself to other stories. No idea how to share them if you want to read though :D | *TESTING TESTING CAN ANY OF YOU STUPID FUCKS HEAR ME*
Those were the first words which God spoke to us.
Of course at first, everyone assumed that they simultaneously experienced the same schizophrenic delusion and simply stared off into the distance. We were unable to comprehended the obnoxiously loud celestial voice which screamed into the world and decided to insult each and every single one of us for the sheer crime of existing.
I myself looked at my brother when those first words rang out, and we both stared at each other with slack-jawed expressions, wondering which of us would ask about the sudden voice first, but not wanting to be the first to ask in case the other decided to have us commit to an asylum.
*FOR FUCKS SAKE JEROME, ITS NOT FIXED AND THE STUPID THINGS ARE STILL IGNORING ME*
“Okay, you definitely heard it that time, right?” I put a hand to my ears in hopes that I could drown out the booming voice.
“Yeah Greg, I heard that,” he said, as he looked around the room, “is it some new public broadcast system?”
“It sounded like it came from inside my head though,” I said, as I felt the dull throb of a headache nip away at me, and threatened to turn into something far worse.
“I guess this is just a weird dream then,” he said, as he started making very strange movements with his hands which I could not comprehend – nor did I even want to.
“No this isn't a dream, dumbarse,” I said, “it's definitely real.”
“How do you-”
*OKAY THANKS FOR THAT ANSWER, ONLY TOOK YOU A MINUTE*
I clutched at my head, wishing I could stifle that unfathomable torment.
*OKAY SO, I'M BASICALLY THE GOD OF THIS PLACE, AND APPARENTLY, I'VE BEEN TALKING TO MYSELF FOR THE LAST TWO THOUSAND YEARS*
*I ALWAYS THOUGHT YOU LOT WERE JUST IGNORING ME BUT NO APPARENTLY YOU JUST COULDN'T HEAR ME LIKE THAT'S ANY BETTER*
*SO I'M GOING TO MAKE SOME CHANGES AROUND HERE*
“This is some weird joke man,” said my brother, his eyebrows now permanently furrowed. He poured himself an entire glass of whiskey, and then handed the glass off to me. But before I could even ask him what he was doing, he turned the bottle on himself and downed the rest of the alcohol within.
“Nice,” I said, as I followed suit by finishing the entire glass in a matter of seconds.
*BECAUSE YOU IDIOTS CANT KEEP KILLING EACH OTHER FOR FIVE SECONDS, I'M GOING TO PUNISH YOU*
“Isn't this whole thing your fault?” I yelled at the ceiling, venting my frustrations to nobody in particular. “If you took better care of us then this wouldn't happen.”
*SHUT UP GREG I DIDNT ASK YOU*
At those booming words, my brother broke into a fit of laughter, unable to comprehend if what happened was actually God telling me off, or nothing more than the most bizarre of coincidences.
“No fuck you, God!” I said, as I continued to yell at the ceiling, wondering if that made any difference. “What kind of shitty god just fucks off for two thousand years!”
*I ALREADY SAI- NO YOU KNOW WHAT, FUCK YOU GREG*
*THE FIRST GUY THAT KILLS GREG GETS GUARANTEED ETERNAL LIFE*
I looked at my brother and gripped the glass in my hand tightly.
“Don't you dare, you little shit.”
I saw his grip on the bottle tighten.
“Don't worry,” he said, with a faint laugh, “I ain't doin' shit.”
Before I could say another word he swung the bottle at me. I managed to avoid it due to nothing more than sheer luck, and slammed my own glass into the side of his head. I heard the sound of shattering glass and an anguished scream, and felt blood trickle down my hand – which I hoped was not my own.
Not wanting to take it any further, I fled from my home and down the street.
*WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR, KILL GREG*
At that moment, I feared for all the other Gregs out there that I had cursed to a terrible fate.
* * *
/r/khaarus | "They fired me. I can't believe they fired me! I started this company....er, existence!", I mewled.
"I know, sir. Sucks. If I'm being candid...which you didn't say I could be, so...sorry, my Lord?"
"Peter...you know I don't like all the 'sir, thou, his-holiness' stuff. I made all of this, but you know as well as I do and they should by now that I don't *control* any of it. Today sucks hard enough already, thanks."
"Sorry, boss", Peter intoned.
I sighed. "Dude. We just went over this."
"My bad."
They fired me. Do you know how galling it is to be fired from a job you never wanted and stopped showing up at years ago? It's like you're so unimportant that they didn't even realize you were gone.
I should go back a bit. [I'm God Almighty. You know, ruler of heaven and Earth, and every goddamn thing in between.](https://m.youtube.com/watch?t=0m40s&v=ayWQGYHG2GQ). Or at least they thought so.
See, I *created* it. I'm God. I can create anything I want. I could make all the chickens turn into hippos. Pink ones. I can make it so they always *were* hippos. I can make whatever I want. and I can unmake it. I know everything about my creation. How it works, how it will grow, what will happen to it.
But once it's created, it's sort of out of my hands. And I can guide things along, of course...but that requires people to listen.
And they've not been listening for a every long time. Because my mic was off. All this time, I thought they were giving me the silent treatment.
Turns out the batteries ran out. It wouldn't have been a problem if we'd gone plug and play, but noooooo..Peter promised that cordless was WAY cooler.
"When's the last time you saw Michael Jackson use a corded mic?", he'd asked.
"Damn...he doesn't exist yet...but I know he will, and you've made what will be a fantastic point. Cordless it is."
Peter makes excellent point sometimes. Unfortunately, he's not big on details. We never charged the fucking mic. And it came fully charged, but no battery lasts forever.
Not even the ones I create. Some tasks really are too great.
I guess the last time it worked was right around when I sent Jesus. I saw things were getting out of hand, but no one was listening. Jesus spent some time in a Garden hanging out, waiting for a sign...I kept telling him to get the fuck outta there because the people weren't listening to either of us and he was in grave danger.
He never heard me. And he was so pissed at me for "blanking" him that we've not really talked until right now.
"Dad! Why did you let them crucify me?! Didn't you hear me asking for help? You just left me hanging? Dick move."
"Jesus Christ, kid..I was screaming into the mic and no one gave a shit!"
He paused."The mic? Dad......whens' the last time you charged that old thing?"
I stopped. "Charged? Oh, holy shit. PETER!!!!!!?!?! We never charged the mic!!!!!"
That chat was a whole other shitshow.
Anyway, after they quit listening, so did I..and I quit trying to guide them. I just sort of left them to their own devices for....hundreds of years. Maybe thousands. Who knows? Hm. I guess I should, eh?
Until Jesus finally decides to quit pouting and we discover that we've been experiencing technical difficulties.
So, I charged the mic, observed the situation on the ground, and them chimed in, just like hold times.
"Umm...guys? It's me, God. Been while, eh?"
The world stopped. Everyone looked up.
"So...full disclosure....we didn't realize the mic was down up here. That's our bad. Anyway, I'm noticing that you all seem to have moved pretty far away from where I was hoping you'd go. I won't force you, free-will and all of that...but things aren't going to go well if you keep doing what you're doing. So, I'm going to offer you some advice. Please listen carefully, and save your questions for the end.
You should be kinder to each other and yourselves.
If you want to do something, do it unless it's hurting someone. If someone's doing something that you don't like, but it's not hurting anyone, keep your feelings to yourself, because one cares how you feel. Judge not and all that.
Fetuses aren't people. You may not agree, but you're wrong, and I know because I *made* them. A fetus is a person like an acorn is a tree. It isn't. Quit being daft.
Also, stop destroying the planet. It's the only one you've got right now, and at the rate you're going, you're going to destroy it before you can reach the other ones I've set up for you. Money is awesome, but you can't breathe, eat, or drink it.
Oh! Quit killing people. Or doing them any harm at all, actually. There's literally NO good reason to do hurt people. So don't. I thought I explained that whole thing pretty well to Moses, but stuff gets lost in translation, I get it. On that...go over the 10 commandments again. And again. That's basically all you need. I don't care about tattoos, mixed fabrics, what you eat on Fridays, where you go on Sundays. I've NEVER gone to church. I have no idea why any of you would. I don't care who you have sex with, so long as they're happy about it.
Just be good to yourselves, the planet, and each other, and things will be fine. All that extra stuff, *you people* made up. Just stick to the big 10, and you're covered."
There was a long silence around the world as everyone processed what was happening, what was said.
And then, a lone voice from the blue marble I lovingly created so many years ago:
"What do you mean *you people*?"
And like that, I was fired. I could shut the whole thing down. I nearly did. I am the alpha and the omega. The beginning and the end.
But bit in the middle is totally out of my hands.
I *almost* sent a meteor to wipe it all out...but at their pace, those poor fools will destroy themselves more quickly and completely than I ever could.
It's a bummer to be fired, but it's nice to see that they've surpassed me, even if it's on the road to their destruction.
People, man. | 2019-06-03T09:07:27 | 2019-06-03T08:23:29 | 2,232 | 114 |
[WP] Scientists perfect the blood test that predicts when you will die. You're immortal, so you took the test out of boredom. Your results just came in, you've got just one day left. | The test had to be wrong. The test had to be. It had to be. I was alive when the pyramid was built. I was alive when Alexander forged his empire. For god’s sake, I lived centuries before the pleasures of modern plumbing and this test said it would all be over tomorrow. I can’t die. It’s impossible. The test probably doesn’t know what to do with that. It has to be wrong. It has to be. But what if it isn’t?
These thoughts flooded my brain as I drove home from the clinic. Primal fears of survival that were long asleep inside me were now stirring. I pressed the gas a little harder.
“Beth! Get ready!” I shouted as I entered our large home. She wasn’t my first wife and, If I don’t die, she won’t be my last. Beth was different from my previous partners, there was something about her. Maybe it was how her gaze somehow made me feel seen yet see through at the same time. Maybe it was that fierce, insane intellect that figured out I was immortal long before I planned to tell her. Maybe it was how she was utterly fearless in the face of mortality. Maybe it was how she made me forget about all those that came before. “Let’s go out tonight, your favorite place?”
“What’s the occasion?!” She yelled from upstairs. I hadn’t told her what I was doing today. I thought it would be something to laugh about when my results dumb founded the doctors. Instead of their confusion I got awkward apologies.
“Do I need an occasion to spoil my wife?”
“Okay give me 15 minutes.”
“That means 30 right?”
“I looooove you.”
Our dinner was wonderful. She knew something was up with me but I refused to speak of it. Beth was smart, but I don’t think she’d figure this one out without any hinting. We reminisced about how we met. I would say I was having a midlife crisis, but there’s no middle when you’re eternal.
“God I’m still shocked you tried to fight that guy?”
“It’s not like he was gonna kill me.”
“Honey, you still feel pain and he was twice your weight.”
“You forget, I was so drunk I couldn’t feel much of anything.”
“Well lucky you I was there to stop the bleeding after he stabbed you.”
“I think I would have been okay either way.”
“I don’t think your heart would have been.”
She was right.
We stayed at the restaurant far later than intended. The lone bus boy wiping down tables, who I’m sure drew the small straw, had to break up our party of 2. Beth drove us home, I had indulged in my liquid vices a little too much trying not to worry about that silly test.
Brakes screeched. Horns roared. Glass shattered. The car tumbled through the air. The last thing I saw was how Beth’s hair danced in the air while upside down.
I don’t know how much time passed before I woke up.
“Beth,” I groaned. “You okay?”
There was no response.
“Beth?” I reached over and shook her.
“Beth!”
I fumbled for my phone. The screen was cracked. The time read 12:01. I dialed 911.
My life ended that day. | It amused me to take it; it was to be one of my last amusements, here, before I tossed this whole species aside and moved on. There were new worlds to conquer, there always are.
There always are, and no amusement lasts forever. You learn that fast, or rather, "slow" and fast" cease to have much meaning compared to the grinding length of your own life. You learn a lot of lessons fast, but then you have to take care to keep learning new ones, to not let even ancient wisdom settle in and rest its joints forever. I should have done. I wouldn't be sitting here now, staring at it.
The humans claimed the test was something new, really more physics than biology. Everything is bound up in everything else, they said, especially in any kind of living system, even one so far beyond their comprehension as mine. Their little primitive-science cabal was so pathetically happy to be granted my sample, over their sad little moon at the smallest favor granted by their Overlord Uncomprehended. I knew there was no way they could learn enough to be dangerous from just one drop, which is all they said they needed, and it amused me, so I gave it to them. Spit it out from one of my many limb-mouths and let it fall shining into the vial held up by the robot they sent to collect it, as to look upon my form is death to lesser minds.
Foolish creatures— but that wasn't really fair. They had amused me longer than most do, and I was still contemplating how to dispose of them, what would give me that one sweet final moment of savored mastery before I brushed the leftover particles out from my micro-tentacles and moved on. Slowly dim their sun? Let the Outer Below creep into the space of their little gravity well, little by little, watch sanity slide away as understood-reality eroded in favor of Things even I didn't like to contemplate, before erasing it from all known existence entirely?
So many options. So much could be done. But before that, one last amusement, while they still moved about doing their human-things.
And there was, I admit now, an element of ego in it. I thought myself beyond ego. I was superior, but that was not pride, it was simple fact. Here I was, here with my thousand daughters having conquered their little sphere with no real effort, a flick of the wasting-limb here, an example made there. We were beyond, above, and I was at the apex of us all, the One Ascendant in our churning family. So sure, give them my blood, or the closest substance I had in my magnificent roiling form that was anything like it. What harm could it do?
I cannot contemplate that now, it stings too fiercely. Always there is time to deal with difficult things, and now there is not, now my mind's-limbs do not move when asked, always there was time before, millions on millions of years, even a few billions stacked up, older than the fires of creation inside this pathetic rock over which I and all my thousand daughters move.
Over which we reign.
Reigned. Or that past tense will be true soon enough. It cannot be, but it is. Everything is bound up in everything else, even in a system like mine, one that toys with Time itself. No harm can come to me that cannot be reversed, no entropy can touch my magnificence. So I thought. So I thought. Now I must contemplate differently and there is no time.
I laughed at their request, and melted one of the supplicants into the floor, just enough that he would have perhaps twenty of their minutes to behold his own foolishness, his own primitive organs slowly turning to slag. This was a mercy, because the rest I did not touch. They amused me, with their talk of some universal test, with their oh-so-transparent attempts at flattery, wanting to see what immortality looked like. This wasn't about hormones and proteins and DNA markers, they said. It was an index of entropy, that conquered-thing for me, that ruler of a short, shuddering life for them. It was marking the moment that the graph trended sharply upward. Because everything is bound up in everything else.
But of course they did more than just measure. It should have been impossible! It should not have been me! Me, ruler of a hundred thousand worlds for the last eras of each existence! Me, who came from a noble lineage bred in realities touched-along by the endless fathoms of the Outer Below! They cannot have touched any part of me with their sad decayed version of Time! I am incorruptible!
But I am not. I have seen their celebrations at their success, their firm estimates of the time left to me. I cannot even take revenge, it is all I can do to hold myself together long enough to understand what has happened. My thousand daughters, bound up in me too, consequences of my willed-existence, they have already gone, I could not spare anything for them. It is only me, here, in the Chamber Unlooked-On, rotting away with the entropy injected from afar.
Their "blood test" is true, only because it is simple to predict things you have found a way to control. I know that better than any. Knew it. Thought I had control. Sit here, bulk sinking to the deepstone floor, more and more unsupported. Sit here and contemplate what there is not time for. Know that everything is bound up in everything else.
A day a single one of their revolutions of their tiny un-mattering stone-about-star I will not
I will not be
this is
humans!
who else would make a weapon of their own mortality!
​
Come on by r/Magleby for more elaborate lies. | 2019-08-22T06:09:03 | 2019-08-22T05:50:28 | 566 | 103 |
[WP] You've never felt the same after learning Morse Code. The rain keeps telling you to run. | Why won't they listen?
Why won't anyone listen?
"You never wonder if the rain would give you a message in Morse code?" asked Natalia, in an innocent tone that did not fully hide her fear.
"That would make my day more interesting, I can tell you that much," replied Rene, her Morse code instructor in the army.
Natalia knew that the army was fond of soldiers who knew their way around the code. It was the best, sometimes the only, mean of communications in remote locations like jungles or damaged mountain ranges. A new skill and an opportunity to travel to the unknown, everything a single and adventurous young woman could ask for.
The code itself was surprisingly easy, it only required to learn by heart the translation of each letter, and invoke the inner discipline to translate anything she came by at random for training.
Bird meant -... .. .-. -..
Tree meant - .-. . .
In the evenings, she sat at the transmitter and learned the subtleties of the sound and the pauses, to differentiate long and short, transcribe faster and make it a second nature.
It became a force of habit, looking for random patterns, writing down letters to form incoherent words. To pass time, to avoid boredom while waiting for the next deployment.
Natalia remembered the first time she understood the rain. A few drops resonated more deeply and vibrantly than others, following the mechanical rhythm of the code.
*Run, coward, run.*
A long pause.
*Run, coward, run.*
Repeated as long as the rain lasted.
Quite the imagination she had. At least, that's what she thought then. But the message kept coming, no matter where she was when it rained, it was always the same cold threat.
Rene's answer was enough to convince her she was too imaginative. If she alone heard it, then it was only a product of her mind.
The days went on, and the message became almost tedious.
Until it changed. Standing at a window and looking at the horizon, Natalia could not miss the difference.
*I see you.*
A long pause.
*I see you.*
What sick joke was this? Bullying by an insane sergeant? The start of madness? Angry at the world and herself, Natalia left the barrack to walk outside in the middle of the heavy rain. There, with noise coming from all directions, the message was thinned, dulled, drowned out. The rain poured down her smooth face, every drop provoked a fleeting moment of enjoyment on a fragment of her skin. Drenched and cold, she found peace.
A low *thump* brought her back to the present. Hidden by the heavy rain, something had fallen not far behind her. She carefully advanced, and nearly tripped. Something had left a mark, deep in the wet ground. Her own carelessness had damaged the trace, it could have been vaguely humanoid.
Unsure, she hastily retreated in direction of the barracks.
*Thump.*
This time closer.
"Enough!" she shouted.
For a moment, there was no more unnatural noise.
Some drops resonated more deeply than others, as if their echo jumped at Natalia's face and clung to it.
*I am coming for you.*
In the veil of water in front of her, just as a mist started to intertwine with it, she thought she made out a roaring face.
She dodged at the last moment, the fangs sliced a few of her hairs.
She had felt the breath of the beast on her neck, a sick, damp and bloody breath.
And the rain screamed.
*You are mine.*
*Let us rejoice together.*
*Let us be one.*
Natalia ran as fast as she could while covering her ears with both hands, the impact of the beast on her tail ran up her feet and seized her heart, gripping it with a cold hand. The air in her lungs turned to ice, her legs went numb, the desperate escape turned to a crawl.
*There is no escape.*
*In your room, under your bed, in the closet, I will wind you.*
She reached the barracks out of breath and fell through the door into the arms of another soldier and passed out.
At the infirmary, many wondered just what the hell happened to her. Natalia had been witnessed leaving on a walk in the rain, and running back in panic. What had come to pass in-between these two points in time was the subject of much speculation. Friends and superiors visited, worried about her mental health or wondering if a stalked was after her. Blair, Irene, Rene, and quite a few more came to offer kind words. She had none to give back.
Even sleeping pills could not whisk her away into sleep when it rained at night. The drops splashed against the window.
*I see you.*
She left the infirmary when the doctor decided that there wasn't enough to work on, be it physical or mental health. She was to avoid stress and that was it. | Secrets slipped through the rain in staccato undulations of long and short. Everything in the world had a Name, every Name in the world had a Purpose, every Purpose in the world a Subversion, every Subversion a Corruption, because of course a subversion by itself is not a wrong thing, and there are many wrong things in the rain.
Doubting Thomas, one of those wrong things, slipped through rain. And the rain whispered to him, in a language he wished he had never learned, *“Run.”*
He did not hear *“Run,”* like a spoken word or like the other rhythmic secrets of Name, Purpose, Subversion, and Corruption. Rather, *“Run”* was the Synthesis of all those things. When the rain whispered his Name, Thomas, he heard the first short beat of word alongside it, short-long-short, di-da-di in the Morse Code conventions that haunted him. When it whispered his Purpose, to listen to the world and the rain and its whispers, Thomas heard the second beat of word, short-short-long, di-di-dah, in the cracks between the command. In Thomas’s own Subversion, his oppressive doubt, he heard the last beat of “Run” in the stamp of his feet on the pavement, splashing through the puddles in a strange, long-into-short trip of a rhythm, da-dit.
And in his Corruption, his trust in himself and himself alone, Doubting Thomas heard an exclamation point made of thunderclaps and lightning.
There was other noise, other rain-whispers to be sifted, and there was talking too, because a woman ran beside Doubting Thomas and she had been talking all the while, been talking since they left their home and ran down the streets and ran out through park and on. Rachel was her name, just Rachel, and Doubting Thomas heard all her secrets in the rain too, and in the beat of her feet against the wet, sopping world. She splashed heavily into a puddle and the splash whispered *“Run.”* She brushed a tree branch and all the little droplets whispered *“Run.”* Doubting Thomas heard them fall, each and every one of them with the same secret.
Her mouth moved, said words like “Where are you going?” and “What’s wrong?” and “Talk to me!” but Thomas did not trust those. They weren’t the rain, and they weren’t the Code. They were screamed not whispered, screamed in such a hoarse, broken voice that Thomas could not do anything but run from them, because his Purpose was to listen, his Subversion was to doubt, and his Corruption was such that he couldn’t trust any soul but his own.
Besides, Thomas thought, people whisper truth, they don’t scream it. Truth hurt too much to be screamed.
Doubting Thomas ran on, drenched by the rain and puddles thrown up by cars, once by mud when he tripped, fell, and sprawled through a patch. Rachel helped him up, said more words to run away from.
Eventually, chest heaving, tears mixing with the rain, hair thin and soaked and scraggly, she stopped. Falling hard to her knees, she screamed her last words with all the ragged-edged force of a blizzard, not a rain storm, which only frightened Doubting Thomas more because blizzards could not talk, they were no secrets to parse in blizzards, only in the rain.
“Please come back!” Rachel screamed, shrieked, pleaded, begged.
Doubting Thomas ran on, doubting and believing in turns, as the rain blew every which way around him and secrets blew with it.
*Run.*
From time to time on his way out of the city people called questions from beneath their umbrellas and awnings.
“Are you okay?” an old woman in a fuzzy, lopsided hat shouted.
“Slow down, champ!” a big man in a blazer said.
“You fucking asshole!” a pale, scrawny kid in a sports car shouted when Thomas ran through the walk sign and brakes screeched red amid the evening murk. Doubting Thomas did not know if he doubted the kid, the rain had whispered similar things before.
He still heard *“Run,”* in the hollows of everything around him.
Eventually his phone began to ring, then ring again, then ring and ring and ring some more as Rachel called. She called until Thomas cried, until his doubt almost washed away with the tears because she had run so far, even when she had a weak heart and a bad knee from that time in college. After all, she had said things even before their run, would say them again now, if the rain told him to answer the phone.
*“Run,”* the rain said, so Doubting Thomas ran. She said things, but there were no secrets in her voice that he could hear, and when she screamed them it scared him very badly. Many things scared him very badly.
Eventually Thomas passed into the suburbs. Night fell, and it became rare to encounter another person on the streets, in rain so cool and callous as this. He passed three people, a couple that shied away from him, a young woman who crossed the street when she saw him running; none of them said a word, save for the young woman who gasped a bit, and the hollow space behind what she did not say was filled by rain that still whispered *“Run.”*
Dawn came, the rain did not end, and no one spoke to Doubting Thomas. It rained for three days and three nights, and on the fourth day, when Thomas rested in a blighted copse off I-79, the rain stopped.
He caught his breath, drank from a puddle, massaged blistered, horrifically aching feet.
The world was silent, there were not even birds, and on this stretch of the road, at this hour of the morning, there were no cars. Doubting Thomas pulled out his phone— it was dead. Silent.
He splashed his bare feet into a puddle till the water rose and fell in a great, scattered flood, but the drops were too scattered to make words and tell secrets, and there were too many hollow spaces in the world for a puddle to fill.
Silent.
Silent.
Silent.
Thomas, Doubting Thomas, walked until he found an old, abandoned trailer, slipped into the silent room, sat down in a dusty chair that creaked loudly but did not speak. He brushed paraphernalia off the single table, listened for a secret in the clatter. Silence.
He stared at his phone for a very long time, as the sun crept up on the horizon, then over, then sat again. Sometime in the dark, it rained.
And the rain whispered *“Run.”* Doubting Thomas, trusting only in himself, listened to all the world whispering that word, *“run, run, run, run, run, run, run,”* into the hollow places where before there had only been silence. He stood, stretched for a few minutes, and then he ran to a place where all the words were only whispers, and there wasn’t anyone left to doubt.
Behind him, in a broken down trailer some miles off I-79, his phone sat on a dusty table cleared of paraphernalia and laden down with discarded dreams.
\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_
r/TurningtoWords | 2021-09-28T08:55:03 | 2021-09-28T08:37:14 | 89 | 54 |
[WP] The one person none of the heroes or villains fucks with is known as "The Mad Doctor". he treats anyone who seeks his help, in exchange everyone turns a blind eye when he shows up to underprivileged neighborhoods to deliver free and technically illegal care. the new guy learns the hard way. | Another night, another chase through the back alleys. This time after a petty jewelry store robber juiced up on some super-drug, because of course modern drugs have to not only slowly kill you but make you supernaturally fast and strong while they do it. A standoff had ended with the perp on the run, and leaking blood out of three bullet holes from panicked cops. I'd managed to smack the comically oversized handgun out of his hand with one of my drones and tag him with a tracker, though not before he could punch my trainee through a wall. He'd be fine, dude was borderline invincible, but hopefully the collateral damage paperwork would temper him enough to understand why the rest of us cringed when he picked the Hero name, "Brash".
We followed the signal to the previously mentioned back alleys, and saw he'd moved to an open area. I leaned against the corner and set my glove to ranged stun, I could hear several voices around the corner and my drone was giving me 8 to 12 heat signatures in some sort of tent. "We go on three. One-". Brash rushed around the corner, still fuming from earlier. I should have said something before, but I'd been busy juggling HQ and local LEOs on my comms. I guess I'm not very good at training rookies yet.
"Where's the damn junkie, gramps!" I heard shouted as I turned the corner to find an impromptu medical tent, with a familiar symbol. Oh. fuck.
I saw our perp on a simple hospital style bed, muscles deflated and hooked up to an IV, everything looking home made, but somehow looking even cleaner than a proper hospital. Standing over him was Brash and an old man, slightly hunched, mostly bald with liver spots and all, and a slim mechanical tendril peeking over his shoulder.
"He's lost a lot of blood, and the dose of Amp has only exacerbated his condition. He will not be going anywhere."
"I don't care if he dies on the way there I'm throwing his ass in a jail cell."
"Brash, don't this is-" I tried to interject, though I think I fumbled a bit in part because of what he'd just said. Maybe he wasn't cut out for hero work after all.
"If you attempt to harm my patient, I will be forced to restrain you."
"Try it, geezer." Brash spat as he grabbed the old man by the neck. Yeah, definitely a washout. As expected, before I could fly into a rage over him acting like a thug instead of a hero, he froze and collapsed, with a tiny dot of red on his arm where the tendril had pierced him. I'd have been worried about a head wound in anyone else, but the combination of his powers and apparent emptiness of his cranium made me pay the doctor more attention.
"You okay, Mad Doc?"
"Ah, Pulse, good to see you. Minor contusion to my neck, should heal by tomorrow. I presume he is a trainee?"
"Maybe was, depending on how much of a lesson whatever you gave him teaches him. What did you hit him with?"
"Modified Botulinum toxin, all muscles in the body are paralyzed besides those needed to keep him alive."
"So, locked-in syndrome but without the need for life support. That's the stuff of nightmares, you know that right?"
"Nightmares can be quite educational." I shook my head.
"Two question, how's our perp, and how long until Brash here comes out of it?"
"This patient will recover now that I've removed the bullets and cleansed the Amp from his system, though he ins unconscious for now. Your excessively violent compatriot will begin regaining movement in approximately three days." Very, very heavily modified Botulinum then. I leaned down to have a chat with my trainee.
"Since I know you're awake in there, I'll explain. The man you just \*criminally assaulted\* is Mad Doctor, the best doctor in the world , and common consultant at the HQ infirmary. In return, we don't mess with his patients until they've left his clinic, and we don't mess with him despite his lack of a medical license. Now, I'm going to haul you back to HQ and toss you into the infirmary, where you can reflect on your actions while the nurses clean you like a baby for the next half a week." | \[Sun & Star\]
"Huh," Icesurge grinned to himself. A small crowd of citizens gathered in the library parking lot in front of a wooden stall. It was a pleasant, sunny afternoon. A sign proclaimed it belonged to "The Mad Doctor", but it reminded Icesurge of a child's lemonade stand. That interpretation was helped by the pair of teen girls that seemed to be manning the stall. One was blonde and the other had chestnut curls with pink highlights. "..this'll be easier than I thought." He strode forward with his back straightened in full swagger.
"Which one of you is the Mad Doctor?!" Icesurge raised his voice once he reached the crowd. He plunged the temperature in the area just to make sure he had everyone's attention. Everyone felt a chill and they noticed their breath in the air. He expected the citizens to flee; but, they only scattered around the parking lot without leaving the area.
"That's me," the blonde waved at him with a smile. "If you want some help, you'll have to wait your turn," she said.
"I don't want your help," Icesurge said. "And, they don't deserve it," he gestured at the various citizens standing at a distance.
"Well, that's certainly an opinion," the blonde teen nodded. She did not lose her smile; but, she shrugged. "I'm going to keep helping," she added. She made her point by turning to the closest stranger. "Next?" she asked him. He was a balding, lean man with a silver beard and his arm in a cast. He cast a nervous glance at Icesurge, then at the Mad Doctor. He took a step forward and Icesurge grew annoyed.
"No more!" Icesurge bellowed. He swung his arm in a wide arc and flung an icicle at the blonde. A plume of pink smoke erupted between Icesurge and the Mad Doctor and swallowed the icicle. The other girl with pink highlights stood between them holding the icicle in her hand when the smoke cleared. Once she had Icesurge's attention, a pink flame ignited around her fist and the icicle melted.
"You might want to mind your own business there, pal," the teen said while she stared into his eyes.
"I'm not your pal," he shook his head. "My name is Icesurge, let me show you why," he threw his hands up wildly and half a dozen frozen stalagmites erupted out of the ground around the teen. They came out at odd angles and seemingly crisscrossed through her. Her t-shirt and blue jeans were impaled and hung on the frigid spikes. Icesurge laughed; then, several things happened at once. He felt a sudden, sharp pain on the side of his lower back and he heard the teen's voice in his ear.
"My name's Alis," she said. "I'm sorry about this." Before he could even register surprise his knees buckled and he went slack. He started to fall through Alis' arms, though, she did her best to guide him down gently.
"Nononono, don't die!" the Mad Doctor dashed around the ice cluster and wooden stall to kneel next to him. She put her hands on his stomach and they began to glow with golden light. "Phew," she giggled lightly after a moment. "That was close," she said.
Icesurge was feeling drowsy, but he knew enough to try and stay conscious. He didn't feel any pain anymore and the Mad Doctor's hands felt warm.
"Sorry...," Alis apologized to the Mad Doctor. "I didn't know he'd be that weak."
"It's fine," the doctor shook her head with a smile. "He didn't die and we don't have to start all over. If that happened, I definitely would have demanded an apology," she giggled. Icesurge listened to the conversation as it became easier to breathe. He didn't know what to make of it, nor why they were helping him. It was easier to stay silent.
"So, you healed a dozen citizens and a supervillain. What's next?" Alis asked.
"I still need one more citizen," the doctor shook her head. "Then I need to heal a superhero. After that, I'll need the full team for the last step. I have to heal villains and heroes on the field during a super battle; but, I can only use healing skills. You and the team will have to keep me safe."
"Ohhh, that doesn't seem too bad," Alis nodded. "You made it sound pretty important, so I thought it was going to be a long quest chain."
"It's short," the doctor nodded. "But, it's pretty important. Most pro teams require their Healer to do this quest. Completing the quest lets Healers target opponents. "
"Why would you want to heal the other team?" Alis asked. The doctor shrugged.
"There are niche cases," she replied. "And, I'm done." The golden glow around her hands dimmed and she pulled them away from Icesurge. The pair of girls looked down at him as he looked up.
"You're not going to cause any more trouble, are you?" Alis asked.
Icesurge had heard their conversation and didn't know what to make of it. They helped him and weren't holding a grudge; he didn't know what to make of that either. And, try as he might, he had no idea why he was so upset. The rage he had was gone and left him feeling empty and unsure. At the very least, he trusted they wouldn't harm him if he didn't provoke it. He took a deep breath and sat up slowly.
He was worried about lingering pain; but, there was none. He looked at the girls, then shook his head as he stood up.
"Not today," he said. He began sliding away on an icy path. "Thanks for everything, doc."
\*\*\*
Thank you for reading! I’m responding to prompts every day. This is story #1732 in a row. (Story #286 in year five.). This story is part of an ongoing saga that takes place at a high school in my universe. It began on August 22nd and I will be adding to it with prompts every day until May 26th. They are all collected in order at [this link](https://www.reddit.com/r/Hugoverse/comments/wtglls/tokuhigh_alternet_class/). | 2022-10-13T16:33:18 | 2022-10-13T12:54:40 | 67 | 41 |
[WP] Monks discover scary secret: there is only limited souls being 'recycled' by reincarnation and by reaching the highest human population ever, soulless people are being born.
Animals too. We're out of souls, guys.
Edit: few people told me they knew RPG or movie or game with this theme. Sorry guys, I thought of this in the shower and I haven't heard of this before. Just a coicidence.
Edit 2: amazing responses! I'm glad you got inspired because each one of these is terrific! | Having a full soul is a feeling like no other. I wouldn't expect you to understand, but I'll do my best to explain.
It's immortality, and power over nature. It's fulfillment, a feeling of total purpose. It's satisfaction. There's no room for doubt, for low self esteem, for uncertainty. It's being a complete human.
Like I said, I wouldn't expect you to know that. Because you don't have a full soul.
Long ago, longer than you can imagine, I created the earth from stardust, and I blew life upon it's surface. As the ages passed, I witnessed the first large organisms develop. I swam with the megalodons, I flew with pterodactsls, I rode theighty Tyrannosaurus rex.
But among these, none were a companion. None shared the intellect, the feeling, the innate *substance* of a soul. So I brought the meteor to destroy them, and I started life anew. I sought companionship- someone to share the world with me, as equals.
So I brought forth men.
Physically, I sculpted them like myself. I gave them superior minds, making them clever and methodical. I gave them feelings- happiness, sadness, and anger, among others.
But still, something was missing. I couldn't give them passion, because there is one thing my hands cannot create. It is the very thing that defines me. A soul.
And without that, I was still alone.
So I gathered the first humans, wretched things, with no light behind the eyes, cursed with the weight of intelligence without it's benefits, and I split my soul among them. And that very moment is when they became human, and regarded me as a god.
They grew and they multiplied as time passed. With each generation, their souls became more diluted- though a soul is a powerful thing, and even a sliver is enough.
Sometimes, a person would be born with more of a soul than others. They'd be remembered in history- as saints, or men of great compassion, and even those who still retained the powers over nature and commanded miracles with their hands. And other times, some were born with less, and we're remembered for great evils, or wars, or dark stains upon human history.
But now, at nearly seven billion humans, my soul runs thin. There's a reason why people look fondly upon times past, or grandparents remember their younger days in a brighter light- there was more soul to go around back then.
And people can feel it. Depression, lack of purpose, trying to fill the hole within with with no success- this is all due to a lack of soul. Men turned to their minds to technology as an answer, but no spiritual gain was found.
Soon there won't be enough soul to hold the world together. Nations will crumble, and humanity will die off.
And I can be me again.
And I will continue my search for a new companion.
****
By Leo
For more stories similar to this, please visit /r/leoduhvinci. | "Master." The captain of the guards bowed in deference. "We are honored by your presence. Although," he added, grimacing slightly. "I do wish that it had been at a better time."
"Amitābha." Responded the monk, bowing low in return. "I have heard tell of the incidents - indeed, that is why I am here."
At those words, the captain seemed to shrink into his padded armor, like a tortoise into his shell. "You are resolute in your request, Master?" He sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose.
The old monk nodded. "I believe in compassion. As they say, even butchers can put down their carving knives and turn to Buddha on the spot." His eyes and face as blank of emotion as the stone-grey walls.
The captain laughed, an empty laugh that echoed through an empty prison. "It's been three years, old Master, since you first visited. In that time - not one single of these evil men would give up their butchery to embrace the Buddha."
"Amitābha." Responded the old monk, serene in the face of the captain's outburst. "Yet, perhaps he shall be the first. And I would be a poor follower of Buddha to deny even a single man his chance to redeem himself."
The captain drew a shuddering breath before bowing again. "Apologies. I have let my temper get the better of me. It has been a long week. Even so," he added, with a half-grin, half-grimace. "I doubt that even the Buddha himself could redeem this one." Turning about, he led the way through the maze of corridors.
"Perhaps. We shall see." The old monk followed along unhurriedly, his steps echoing into the darkness.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
A single window let in a ray of grey sunlight into the otherwise pitch-black cell.
The prisoner was barely visible - a tangle of straw and shadows hiding in the corner.
The monk sat directly in the sun's rays.
Neither spoke for a long while.
The captain had long since left.
The prisoner's lunch lay untouched between them.
Still neither spoke, and neither would move.
The red tint of the sunset came in through the windows, bathing the cell in blood.
"You do not fear." The prisoner drawled in a long, heavy monotone.
"I do not fear." Parroted the monk.
"What reason was there for you to refuse my offer?"
"The person you speak of is dead to this world."
"Then, let us speak of him - why did he not follow me?"
A lonely cicada's buzz.
"It is ill," responded the monk at last, speaking slowly and carefully, "to speak of people who you once were - they impede one's progress to true enlightenment. But for you, I shall make an exception."
The prisoner waited.
"The reason he refused - was simple enough. Why not?"
"Why, or why not?" Mused the prisoner. "He and I were alike. We were the first of our kind to step forth into the world. Why would he deny my offer of help? Why would he deny my path?"
"Perhaps, he felt that you were not alike, after all." The old monk's was drenched in shadows. "In the end, you cared nothing for yourself, and no more for any others - but he cared nothing for the world, and no more for himself."
"I can see how he would be an ideal monk."
The cicadas died down.
"How many did you get, in the end?"
"I don't know. I didn't count. It didn't matter after a while."
"In another life, you would have made a good monk."
"Oh?"
"You, too, have qualities he did. You, too, could have easily freed yourself from the burdens of earthly matters. Why did you embrace it, instead?"
The prisoner looked at the last rays of the dying sun - and smiled, for the first time in his life.
"Is there any difference, really, for the two of us?" He asked softly. "No matter how you choose to live - as the virtuous master or the despicable murderer - you will have ended in the same way. That's the difference, isn't it? Between us and them."
"And yet," mused the monk. "If there is no difference, why choose any path?"
The prisoner's last smile died on his face.
The sun, too, like the old monk, crept away quietly - its passing barely acknowledged by the world.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Very well, Master?" Asked the captain.
"Very." Replied the monk. "I do not think I shall have need to call upon you again."
The captain smiled, a humorless smile. "You felt it too, didn't you?"
The old monk looked at him, his face completely unreadable.
"That man. That prisoner. That murderer." The captain stared into the distance. "He will never become a Buddha; he will never even become a person." He shivered in the phantom breeze. "You can see it in his eyes. Those unfeeling, unreadable eyes of his - almost as if they've got no soul."
"Amitābha." The monk bowed, gazing at the ground with his eyes. Those eyes of his - unfeeling, unreadable, and so deep, so black, so still - that they seemed to be nothing but a mirror. | 2015-08-22T10:32:23 | 2015-08-22T08:14:52 | 491 | 58 |
[WP] Marriage vows are now a legal contract. The line "until death do you part" now has to be taken literally. As a result, divorcing couples must now fight to the death. | "Jan Reynolds here for the Entertainment Minute! Brad and Angelina are gearing up for their divorce and things are gonna get messy!" A picture of Brad Pitt in his gear from Troy appeared next to Angelina Jolie in her Maleficent makeup.
"Odds are 8:1 in Angelina's favor as her famously brutal destruction of Billy Bob Thornton is still fresh in our minds. Ryan Reynolds weighs in about the split!" The screen transitioned to Ryan Reynolds, who was wearing an eye patch.
"Gotta say I don't imagine this going well for Brad. When me and Scarlett split there were a lot on naysayers in her corner. Thought I was too manly, and then she got my eye. It's gonna be a tough one for Brad, Angelina is infinitely more feisty." The screen rammed back to Jan, who still smiled ear to ear.
"Wise words from a divorce survivor, Brad Pitt has been quoted saying he " Will rain down fury with his battle axe" and if there's any indication from his previous divorce from Jennifer Aniston, I don't think he's lying. Here's a clip from their 2005 divorce."
The show cut to two heavily armored figures circling each other, in the background you could hear the crowd chanting the lyrics to the friend's theme. Jennifer Aniston charged Brad Pitt, sword in hand, and missed, leaving her open to a huge swing from Brad Pitt's giant axe. Her head toppled off her body and the crowd was quickly silenced. As the blood began to spout from her neck the show quickly cut back to Jan.
"Ouch, what a stinger." She smiled wider. "But that's the way celebrity romance goes. Once more, I am Jan Reynolds and that, was the Entertainment Minute." | When the law was passed i thought my day would never come, i loved her too much to feel that we'd ever have to divorce. I can't believe it has come to this, how did i go from having loved her so much to now consider killing her? I don't know but i can't stand this pain anymore. I feel like the weight of the world is upon me when i try to decide to file a divorce. I know our relationship is over, it can't go on like this, but i can't deny i still love her. How can they ask this of me?
I wonder if she feels the same. Guess i'll never know for sure, i'm too affraid of the answer she might give me. If it comes to it, i don't know if i can kill her, i don't have it in me. Maybe it's the time to visit a lawyer.
Fuck, the lawyer said there's no way out. From the way they wrote the law, i must kill her. I. Why should we take this vows literally? I mean, come on. It's just too much for me to handle at the moment, i need a drink.
I talked to Shauna today, she was angrier than normal. She stormed off, but when her head was a bit cooler we managed to talk for a bit. She promised to try to change, i want to believe her i really do. But i have no other choice, i need to give her this chance, i can't or rather won't kill her.
Things were really good after our fight last week, but things are way heavier then normal. Shauna's going out late at night, maybe she thinks i can't hear her. I just hope she isn't seeing Michael again.
It's been two weeks now, i'm pretty sure she's having an affair. I tried going to her ex's house to see if she was going there but i got no luck, it wasn't Michael, he even has a wife of his own now. But i must confront her, i'll do it tomorrow.
It took me three days to build up the courage, but i finally asked if she was having an affair. I cried for almost an hour, i even sprained my wrist from punching the wall in our kitchen. This gave me finally the emotional strength i needed to file for a divorce, our hearing is next monday.
Shauna cried in front of the judge, i had to hold back my tears. But when he asked me if i really wanted a divorce i said yes. The feeling is indescribable, i hadn't felt like this in months. The fight will be 1 year from now.
Our schedule in the arena is in 8 months, i can't die. I won't die. I've met the most wonderful women of my life. I need to kill Shauna. I must find that strength again.
Time flies, haven't talked to you in a while. Life was good in the last few months. Amanda's so nice and kind i lost track of time. Our schedule is due in 2 weeks, i need to this for Amanda.
Shauna came by today, we talked for hours. I don't know if i can do this anymore, i need to find a way out of this.
EUREKA! I think i found it! I need to talk to Shauna before the schedule tomorrow.
Shauna agreed, it was really expensive though. This might be the last time we talk, old friend.
I... I... I can't even describe what i'm feeling. Our plan was to Shauna give me a heart attack, wait for me to be declared dead and the medical team to revive me. It worked, i'm glad it worked. And it was considered legal too! But what i'm feeling isn't happiness, I mean, I'm glad my plan worked, but I feel sadness as I realized it was over. Because as my eyes closed, I couldn't feel that death was bringing us apart, in a way, it brought us closer then we ever were. My life was at her hands, and i trusted her, even after all that we went through. I could see it in her eyes that she felt the same. That we were now divorced, but our love, even in death, would not die. | 2015-11-18T08:45:31 | 2015-11-18T08:35:47 | 29 | 20 |
[WP] Humans are known in the galaxy for being a bit dim, but also for being the very best mechanics around, and inexplicably able to fix machines beyond their comprehension. You have broken down on Earth, and having the apes work on your craft is both fascinating and terrifying. | The creature's thought patterns were simple. Its intelligence... call it a very indulgent average. Speech networks were rudimentary at best.
And yet, it seemed to understand what was wrong with the drive. *SELF* understood the creature's understanding, despite not understanding the drive. *SELF* was Explorer, *SELF*'s whole existence geared towards discovery and assessment. Other minds had created the ship, the practical expression of discoveries and philosophies dreamt up by yet others.
And this primitive understood how it worked and what was sub-optimal about a technological artifact millions of years more advanced (local star-relative years). The thought unsettled *SELF*. It did not fit within *SELF*'s worldview. A species had certain parameters within which it expanded its knowledge and understanding, and the creature's species was well below the threshold at which they could begin to comprehend the processes that bypassed the constraints of space-time.
The creature shouted, gleeful triumph with a strong undercurrent of frustration directed at the ship's drive, an orifice on the shortest limb causing some vibration of the atmosphere. This happened every time the creature shouted, while normal speech was a jumbled mess that *SELF* sensed would be better left unparsed. Its speech was chaotic and veered from subject to subject every few seconds.
Its habit to cause atmospheric vibrations, most unconnected to its speech, was also disturbing.
Still, *SELF* did not sense any ill-will from the creature, only the frustration of a faulty drive and the glee at, possibly, being in the presence of a far more advanced mind.
It crawled out of the open hatch and selected a tool from a nearby container, returned to the hatch, and began twisting one of the color-coded rods. It spoke of dissatisfaction, then, abandoning the tool, cast around on the ground for something -- it knew not what, only a concept of utility in its mind.
It selected a rock.
Not a tool, not something to make a tool, not something useful in any capacity in a star-ship. A rock. It crawled with the rock back into the hatch, and began to pound at one end of the casing.
*SELF* observed. This volume was well-charted, but a direct observation of one of the native life forms was still valuable. This, despite a total lack of mutual understanding of the processes at work.
The creature exited the ship, screaming its success, the associations inferred from the vibrations being of biological and moral correctitude, yet applied to the ship. *SELF* pondered the meanings, and decided to privately lower its estimate of the creature's intelligence.
*SELF* slid into the ship, and felt shock. The ship's systems responded several pulses faster than before the accident -- which shouldn't have been possible, as the ship had been brand-new. *SELF* shot out of the atmosphere, feeling giddy at the smoothness of the ship's responses. *SELF* decided to ignore the unease caused by the ease with which the primitive had solved a problem too hard for an advanced mind.
* * *
"And what did you do at the park today, sweetie?"
"I fixted starfish!"
"You fixed a starfish?"
"Yes! It felled outta the sky! And I fixted it! It was broken and a icky spider came out of it and it was sad cause the starfish was broken and I fixted it!"
"Well aren't you a clever little munchkin. How about some ice cream, Engineer Munchkin?"
"Yay!" | "This is a terrible idea." Said Fexund, folding his arms and staring at the line of humans ahead of them. "It's almost brand new- you're supposed to take all Gulux's back to the dealership within one year for factory settings if something goes wrong."
"Fexund, how close do you think the nearest Gulux dealership is?" Asked Harpod, waving a disguised limb at the grimy window of the office. Outside, a line of earthbound vehicles chugged along a filthy strip of asphalt belching noxious fumes and filling the air with the sound of their strange, beeping cries.
"Not close, I suppose." Fexund sighed. "But I still don't see how these beings are going to be any help. They've barely left their own planet."
"I've heard they've got some kind of idiot savant thing going on, show them a trans-dimensional shifter and they'll use it to make orange juice, and fix it at the same time! Professors at the Intergalactic University are preparing a case study on them now, it sounds extremely interesting."
At the front of the line the fat man behind the desk was patiently explaining that yes, after nearly 100,000 miles, the Honda Civic the woman had brought in was probably due for an oil change.
"One question-" Said Fexund, his eyes narrowed, "Does this violate my warranty?"
"Next!" Called the fat man, and Harpod hurried forward, trying his best to match the movements of the humans all around them. The visual cloaking device was working overtime on him, Fexund, and their ship, and he didn't want that to break down too.
"What's the problem, fellas?" Asked the fat man, staring up at them through wet, squinty eyes.
"I think you had better tell us." Said Harpod, smiling widely in an attempt to charm the man. "We're simply hopeless mechanics- the damn thing just won't work!"
In the parking lot, the ship lay on its side in a crater the size of a small building. Several cars were flattened beneath it, and safety glass was scattered in a glittering nimbus for half a block. Large plumes of smoke were boiling from the exhaust vents of the ship and turning the Los Angeles sky a sickly green color as they rose into the air. To the man, of course, the ship appeared as a large white panel van, slightly dirty and old.
"Looks in good enough shape." Said the man, scratching his chin. "Let's pop the hood shall we?"
He stuck his head into the side access panel, nearly shearing off most of his face on the laser shield that protected the warp drive. As it was, some of his beard hairs were singed on contact, and he waved a hand in front of his face.
"Phew," He said. "Smells like maybe something's crawled up in your hood and died, boys."
"Ah, yes." Said Harpod, "Could very well be. We... live in the... woods."
The man removed his head from the access panel and peered at the two of them. After a moment, he returned to his work without speaking.
"Nice one." Hissed Fexund, elbowing Harpod. "The woods. Iron-clad story."
"Yeah, here we go!" Exclaimed the man, plunging his arm deep into the access panel. Fexund and Harpod inhaled sharply as he once again came within a hair's breath of burning his own face off. The man fished around with his hand, digging and grunting alternately. Finally he gave a short exclamation of victory and pulled something out of the access panel, gripping it by the scruff of its neck.
"Dead possum!" Said the fat man. "All wrapped around your air intake- EUGGHHHHAAAAA!"
The thing, whatever it was, sprouted a mouth out of its neck that snaked through the air and latched onto the man's forearm. Blood spurted out from the bite wound, running in dripping lines down to the man's elbow and pattering to the pavement below.
"Feisty litte guy!" Barked the man, wrestling with the monster. "I could have sworn he was OHMYGOD"
The thing writhed and squirmed like a cockroach flipped on its back, spiny legs waving in the air. It extended a six-inch long stinger, black as ink and with a wicked tip. With a violent twisting motion of its body it buried the stinger in the man's stomach, then visibly pumped some kind of fluid from its thorax into the man's body.
"Thanks so much!" Called Fexund, climbing the side of the ship to the main access hatch. "That seems to have done it!" He dropped into the cockpit and the ship sprung to life, jumping from the ground and hovering upright in place.
"No problem..." The man's voice sounded faint now, and flecks of black blood were gathering at the corners of his mouth. "I'll call animal control and..."
The thing scuttled up the man's arm and wrapped its many limbs around his head, thrusting the stinger deep into his skull via the base of his neck. Instantly, the man's eyes cleared. He shook himself once, twice.
Harpod shivered as he climbed into the cockpit, closing the access door behind him.
"I feel kind of bad. Do you feel kind of bad?"
"No." Said Fexund. "Think of it this way- we saved a Gorgle who would have died out alone in space if we hadn't come along!"
"**THANKS FOR THE RIDE!**" Bellowed the man, his voice a horrible scream now. "**I'LL SEND YOU GAS MONEY ONCE I'VE GOT SOME CASH, YEAH?**"
"My warranty had better still be valid." Said Fexund, shifting into gear and leaving the planet behind.
| 2016-05-23T23:30:07 | 2016-05-23T18:38:57 | 44 | 32 |
[WP] Over night, 90% of the world's population has dropped dead. In the following weeks, the survivors, who come from diverse countries, ethnicities, religious beliefs and lifestyles realize that they all share a single, peculiar trait... | At first we didn't understand how it was possible, 90% of the population just dropped dead and no one knew how, there must be a reason those of us that survived were given the right to keep on living but what could it be...
We searched for a connection between us yet it seemed to be as random is it can be until we finally arrived at the conclusion, we all forwarded that one chain message that said we would die if we wouldn't forward it | Saying that religious belief is what brought humanity to a near end, a near end where The Falling occured wouldn't exactly be correct to say. It took until 2085, fifteen years after the instantaneous, near apocolypse that left Earth's population at just over seven billion to find the only possible explanation as to why.
The Falling had occured in an instant in which 90% of humanity simply fell and died. This would have been repairable, except the survivor's memories had been wiped, where only just enough memory remained to recognize the glossy stares of their family as they lay dead on the ground, but not enough to find their own homes. The Falling lead to many corpses littering the streets, many more than you may assume: During the fifty year reign of peace following the down fall of America that caused all the nations to finally unite, populations across the globe were able to grow exponentially. A new path of science (or previously less investigated) had provided the technologly to not just feed the entire population with ease, but to house a much larger one on Earth than previously thought possible. The survivors of The Falling had to reassemble their history all over again to discover this for themselves though.
It took many years to rediscover old technologies whose secrets died with their discoverers and practitioners of the old days. Even more to begin research as to why such a tragedy occured. Their final conclusion should have been much easier to arrive to, something so obvious it seemed it should have taken days for a species so connected. But this was now an alienated, devasted group of people left on the planet. Something not physically evident caused even more skepticism and denial.
There came a point where mankind finally had to concede to the proposterous idea: The 10% of the remaining population shared many different religious beliefs prior to The Falling. But only those that truly did not believe in their respective God remained alive. Many people that claimed they were religious and were dedicated to their practices lived through the falling; having never truly believed no matter how repressed the blasphemous thought was. On the other end, many outspoken and self proclaimed athiests hadn't survived. It could only be presumed that the latter was actually the case though as there was no proof.
When this "Finding" had become common knowledge among humanity, the only logical conclusion amidst this new idea was that there was in fact a God. Perhaps he was unhappy with the way people went about worshipping Him. This would be corrected. The fear of God was now more powerful and evident than it had ever been among men. This caused a near instant perspective change among Earth and people once again began worship, using no idols this time or history to a certain God. They simply worshipped Him through their own individual methods. The vast majority did at least, a certain few that were the most stubborn and unfaithful still remained deniers.
Over night, 90% of the world's population has dropped dead. In the following weeks, the survivors, who come from diverse countries, ethnicities, religious beliefs and lifestyles realize that they all share a single, peculiar trait...
| 2016-10-22T03:50:18 | 2016-10-22T02:36:52 | 56 | 38 |
[WP] You get achievements in life, such as "Get Married" or "Meet your future Wife". Today you had your first baby, and you see an achievement pop up: "Meet the person who will eventually kill you" | "Huh. Well shit."
"What is it hun?"
"Our kid is gonna kill me one day."
"...What? Oh no, oh no no no no-"
"Hun, honey...it's fine. It's fine."
"It's not fine! How could... how could it possibly be fine-"
"Look."
*Achievement(s) Unlocked:*
*Salvation: Meet the person you'll save.*
*Your Cross: Meet the person or cause you'll sacrifice yourself for.* | I first became privy to Humanity’s Achivements when I was just a boy. As soon as I could make sense of scratches on a page and put them into words, there it was: “Learn To Read.” Granted, it took a good 40 minutes to sound out the letters, a harsh, guttural slop of syllables that only a toddler could muster. This made humanity a prouder place; a system in which we strived for greatness. Recognition is all there was to live for and that’s all the reward we needed. When I met Kathryn, I knew she was the one... because Humanity’s Achievements told me I’d “Met My Future Wife.” And like that we were married. I still remember that day, when my Humanity’s Achievements app interrupted my own wedding ceremony. Kathryn was pissed, sure. But I was proud that it was confirmed to me that I’d done something great because I was told I did it. We lived happily together, even put a bun in the oven that same year. “Knocked Her Up” flashed onto my achievements before she even took the pregnancy test. What a nine months it was. I couldn’t wait to meet my little bundle of joy. And when she came into the world... well, I did receive an achievement.
“Meet the Person Who Will One Day Kill You.” It must have been a mistake. A joke. Some prank being pulled by a rebellious programmer. I decided not to think on it. We took Darlina, our precious gift, into our home. We were a family, but as the months flew by, and the calendar was being stricken with a new, red X day by day, I lied in bed every night a wounded man. Wounded by the promised future. Humanity’s Achievments had never been wrong when awarding achievements which predicted the future. I married the woman it told me I would marry. It knew she was pregnant before she could even realize to check. What duty do I take? Let my child live only to die at her hands? Take her life so she’s never burdened with becoming the murderer she’s destined to be?
As I ponder, I hear her cry. A sweet cry. An innocent cry. Darlina, my daughter’s cry. I stand and do what a father does; I attend to my crying, infant daughter. I arrived at the crib, hopeful that my comfort would ease her back into contentment. She was hungry. I took her to the kitchen and I fed her from a bottle of milk Kathryn produced earlier that morning. I burped her and she spit up, producing a small puddle of her regurgitation on the kitchen floor. I decided that I would clean it when I returned from putting her back down for sleep. And so I did return. In the dark, I forgot the puddle of spit’s location, a fact that may have saved my life. I slipped and hit my head on the edge of the counter. There was a split second between this life and the embrace of the after where I was compelled to look down and see that I’d received a new achievement: “Die.” | 2018-01-12T19:04:46 | 2018-01-12T19:03:10 | 54 | 25 |
[WP] Whenever you speak, people hear you speaking in their native language. Most people are surprised and delighted. The cashier at McDonalds you've just talked to is horrified. "Nobody's spoken that language in thousands of years." | “Nobody’s spoken that language in thousands of years.”
I was confused, because this power usually made communication easier, but this girl looks like she’s starting to get really annoyed.
The immigrant cashier from a small village in Italy was really starting to get annoyed with me as I tried to order my lunch.
“Do you speak English? Nobody here speaks Latin.” | The cashier gave me the same look they all have given me. His eyes were welling with tears as he tried to catch his breath. He knew who I was.
"I'm so very sorry," I whispered softly as to not alarm anyone else. "I can make it very quick and dignified and you will feel no pain."
I handed the cashier my debit card to ring the charge for my meal through, but he just stood there and continued to stare at me.
"Are...are you here for me? You can't be.....your boss and I had a deal...."
"About that deal," I began "It was void the day you paid in full for him to spare your life for eternity." As I said the words, I could see him begin to crumble.
"But my daughters were pure," he choked out "They were only two and four years old!"
"We know," I said as I watched the color of life start to fade from his skin. "They were pure, but their souls were already owned by someone else. We weren't able to collect, so I've come to collect you."
The cashier slumped over on the floor and I tucked my card back in my wallet as I ducked out from the crowd that was beginning to form around the body on the floor. I stepped out the door and was met by the cashier once again. As we began to walk away from the restaurant together, I allowed him to ask me one more question, "So if the deal was that I live for eternity for two pure souls, and my deal was void, then why did he let me live for 1000 years before taking me?"
I stopped walking and turned to face him, "You didn't fully realize what you were getting into when you made your deal with my boss. It's the goddamn fine print that says he can punish you in any way he wants if the deal falls through."
The wind as starting to pick up and pulled up my hood as I continued to explain, "He likes to make it hurt as much as possible for some, so he let you live for 1000 years so that you have 1000 years of painful experiences, broken hearts, friends lost, loves lost, sickness, broken bones, failures, humiliations, and defeats to remember. And that's all you get to remember for eternity. Every good memory you had from your life has now been deleted. All you get to remember is all of the ones you've tried your hardest to forget. You will relive every one of them over and over again for eternity."
The cashier began to sob and I turned and kept walking because I didn't want to see the face of someone who has had all goodness stripped of them, they barely look human.
I saw the remnant of the flash from behind me and I knew the cashier was gone.
"Another day done," I said and picked up my pace because it was getting late.
I just wanted to get home and get some rest because tomorrow was another day full of appointments. | 2022-11-14T01:20:39 | 2018-06-24T21:29:26 | 45 | 22 |
[WP] To enter The Paradise, you must perform a talent or a skill that you have acquired on Earth. Welcome to Heaven's Got Talent. | The panel towered above me. A 50 foot column of white marble climbing through a perfect blue sky. It was emblazoned with a large 'X', the edges trimmed with a brilliant gold. Behind the panel sat the lone judge, its face obscured by the burning white light glowing behind its head.
'Introducing Contestant number 100,804,245,898!' A bubbly voice boomed all around me, speaking in some unfamiliar language that was inexplicably understandable, 'Mr Devin Wright!' A burst of applause erupted. I looked around, vaguely able to see rows upon rows of people sitting in bleachers that surrounded me, their stares partially obscured by a slow moving cloud. A microphone and tv screen suddenly appeared in front of me. The screen read:
HELLO DEVIN!
*WELCOME TO HEAVEN'S GOT TALENT!*
THE NO. 1 GAME SHOW IN THE AFTERLIFE
PERFORM YOUR GOD GIVEN TALENT TO THE MAN HIMSELF
I froze, unable to process what I was reading. Surely this was a some kind of illusion, perhaps i'd fallen into a coma at the hospital? The microphone slid across the stage towards me, settling right in front of my mouth.
'I um...' I whispered, every person in the crowd leaning forward slightly at the sound of my voice. 'I don't really have any talents.' It fell into an awkward silence, only broken by a few grunts and sighs from irritated onlookers. A booming laugh from the judge cut through the silence, its volume shaking the very stage that I was standing on. The judge laughed for a few moments before the crowd joined suit, the air soon filled by an wall of indecipherable sound as millions of howls and cackles merged together.
**'That may be so Devin.'** The judge spoke, causing the spectators to hush, '**But surely you will at least try try? After all, a place in my Paradise is on offer.'**
I paused for a moment, feeling the awe and panic inside of me lift. My pensive expression morphed into a smile as I stared up at the figure above me. 'Why would I try and prove my talents to a God that made me talentless?' A chorus of gasps rang out. 'If you made me like the tv says,' I laughed, motioning to the screen, 'then you know better than anyone that I can't do anything to impress you.' I grabbed the microphone, stepping forward. 'I'm tone deaf, I can't dance, never learnt a magic trick and i'm about as funny as fucking cancer,' A single stifled laugh sounded from behind me, quickly shushed by the other spectators. 'Well maybe a little bit funnier but the point still remains. If getting into Heaven means trying to please a guy who clearly has a serious fucking power trip going on, you can count me out.' I stood defiantly, desperately trying to stop my hands from shaking. There was a prolonged silence. *Shit.* What had I just done? All I had to do was give him a song but i'd messed it up. What happened now? Was there a hell? I hadn't even thought about a hell-' my vision was suddenly flooded by gold, momentarily blinding me. I raised a hand to my face, peering through half-closed fingers, the view revealing the same X on the panel, now illuminated gold.
'Ladies and gentleman, please give a hand for our newest winner! Devin Wright!' The stage began to move, pushing me over towards the bleachers. The floor moved me up higher and higher, moving past row after row of spectators all applauding and patting me on the back. I finally stopped, the floor pushing me down into a seat, immediately causing the applause to taper off. 'Hey well done man,' the guy sitting to my right offered me a high five. I looked at him bemused, 'but I didn't do anything-' he laughed at my confusion, 'Hey, sure you did. Everyones talented in something, looks like you're pretty good at arguing.'
'Ladies and Gentlemen please quiet down and prepare for contestant number 100,804,245,899!' I half-heartedly joined in with the whoops and cheers around me. 'Judging from our calculations there is a 98.7% chance that she will be singing for us!' the declaration was met by an eruption of groans and abuse. I turned to my new companion, 'why the groaning?'
He laughed, rolling his eyes, 'you know how many fucking singers we get?' | I followed the light. It seemed like the logical thing to do, what there being nothing else but the glimmering dot amidst a sea of inky abyss.
I also vaguely recalled that that was what one was supposed to do in a post-life situation. It was odd, how removed I already felt from the mortal coil. One moment I was cruising along the streets of San Francisco on my Lime scooter and the next I was here. I assumed I had gotten pulverized by a truck or something, but to be honest I couldn't recall any of the details.
Seeing no better option, I began to make my way toward the point of light. I cannot rightly say how long I traveled along the midnight paths, but the glittering ahead slowly grew and resolved. First I saw what appeared to be two large, pearly white gates, seemingly conjured wholesale from the ether.
Then I saw a man. He stood before the gates, a clipboard clutched in one hand and his foot beating impatiently on the ground. As I approached, I could see that his eyes were fixed upon me, a slight frown on his face as the foot continued to tap. He wore a pair of white loafers, white slacks, and a white sweater with a white collar peaking out of it. Very dapper.
"You're late," he announced as I drew closer.
"Um...sorry? For what?" I replied, genuinely confused.
"Your audition. We'll have to put you on after the next break. Luckily the couple from Tuscon arrived a bit ahead of schedule." He gestured emphatically with his clipboard as he spoke. I could just make out a list of times and a number of names beside them. In some cases there was a scribble through them with a small, "Revived" inked in. In other cases the names had arrows next to them, moving them forward or backward on the list.
"Wait, audition? Break? What are you talking about?"
He exhaled in exasperation and then extended his left hand, his right being occupied by the clipboard. "I'm Saint Peter, but most folks just call me SP. I run the gates around here. Who gets in, who gets," he coughed in his hand, "cut."
I took his left hand with my right, and lightly hefted it a few times, the entire situation awkward. "Okaaayyy, nice to meet you SP. So what do I need to audition for?"
"Entrance into paradise everlasting," he replied, jutting a thumb behind him at the Pearly Gates. "Nirvana. Jannah. Tian. Heaven. The end game."
"I thought you got there by, like, being a decent person."
SP snorted, "Don't be naïve kid. Gotta sing for your supper the same as everywhere else."
"You might want to get that communicated back on earth. We've been operating on some pretty big misunderstandings."
"Yeah, we've been looking into that, we've been working through SC, but we might need to step things up and re-deploy JC. Problem is that he's still annoyed about how things played out the last time he visited you guys. He gets along way better with the folks over on Alpha Centauri."
"JC?" I asked.
SP stared at me, "Son of God. The number two. Heir apparent once the Big Guy retires."
"Oh. He's upset at us?"
"Yeah, you guys left a pretty bad impression," he tapped his clipboard, "anyways, we gotta get you ready. Your slot is coming up pretty soon."
"What do I have to do?"
"It's pretty straight forward really, you show off your talent. There's a panel of three judges, two of the three gotta give you a thumbs up to get through the gates."
"Just like America's Got Talent?"
"They ripped that off from Britain's Got Talent which we delivered to earth via our Prophet SC."
"Wait, you mentioned him before, who is SC? And why does everyone go by their initials? It's super confusing."
"Simon Cowell. And it's because time is money baby." SP tapped his clipboard again, "Got a hit show here, all the Heavens are tuning in."
"Wait, wait, slow down, Simon Cowell is a prophet?" That guy was a total dick on Idol, he didn't seem very heavenly at all.
"Sure, we learned from the last go around that the best prophets make profits. People just don't go in for the old burning bush bit any more. Too skeptical. If you wanna make change you gotta make change son." He rubbed his thumb and fingers together.
I stared at his fingers, stupefaction setting in for a few moments before I managed to gather myself. "I don't have any talents though."
SP sucked in some air between his teeth, making a faint whistling sound. "That's not going to play well at all. Hard to package that. Judges can't be letting in people that don't contribute to the milieu around here. We've got an image to protect."
"Um...can I like have a few days to practice or something?"
"That's a no-can-do friend-o, people are kicking the dirt every day and we can't be piling up slots just because someone didn't show up prepared," he gave me a sympathetic look, "you sure you don't have ANY talents? I mean, we got a pretty wide view on things. We had a lawyer get in last week after he demonstrated an interesting corporate setup that leveraged a bunch of shell transactions. Revolutionary stuff, the powerpoint was incredible."
"I...hmmm...I..." was all I managed before I felt SP press me through a doorway that had mysteriously appeared to my right. It had a large "Backstage" sign over it.
"I'm sure you'll figure it out kid. Break a leg out there." The door disappeared as soon as I walked through it.
A new man appeared beside me, a small halo floated over his head and two wings popped up over his shoulder. "Cool, glad you made it. I'm Gabe."
"Hi Gabe, I was just trying to tell Saint Peter that I'm--"
"--I'm sure you'll do great, just lead with your strongest stuff and the rest will take care of itself," he cut in as he ushered me toward the stage.
A moment later, my name boomed out over the stage and I was shoved into the limelight beyond. I stumbled out onto the stage, provoking laughs from the audience. Squinting against the glare I made my way into the center. As my eyes adjusted I saw the three judges arrayed before me.
Siddhārtha Gautama, Buddha.
Mother Teresa, Saint.
Joseph Smith, Founder - LDS.
Mother Teresa spoke up first, "Glad to have you join us. What is your name and what are you here to show us?"
Joseph took a long drink from his cup and crossed his arms, fixing me with a baleful stare.
I gulped.
"I...um..."
**Platypus out.**
**Want MOAR peril?** r/PerilousPlatypus | 2018-08-07T05:52:22 | 2018-08-07T05:35:24 | 57 | 11 |
[WP] The zombie apocalypse is much different than you had imagined. Instead of moaning "braaaaaiiinnnss" and clumsily shambling along, your infected daughter is crying on the other side of your locked door, begging to be let in. | Why did have to be like this?
Why couldnt I make it in time?
Why did they HAVE to get her?
I asked myself over and over why, but the answers eluded me. It's been 3 days since the world went to shit, with those THINGS everywhere. It started somewhere rural, some secret agency, people say. But that doesn't matter.
I had to block the windows and doors. It was fine if I never made any loud noises. They like the noise that regular people make, but not the sounds THEY make. It's so hard to tell the difference, but THEY know. All I had to do was be quiet.
I'm the only one alive here. Just me. My wife was going shopping when it happened. She never made it back. Whatever happened to her, it's better than here.
Just because I said I'm the only one alive here, doesn't mean I'm alone. I haven't slept since it happened. She was outside, playing. Chasing bubbles. Before I could act, who I thought was an elderly woman picked her up and bit her shoulder.
I can barely remember what exactly happened after. I'm so tired. All I remember is the eyes. Those milky white eyes. I still see them. They look at me every day from behind the toddler gate.
She begs and cries, but I can't answer. It's worse when she asks for mommy. It sounds just like her, but her eyes say otherwise. I miss my little girl. I'm not sure how long I can endure this. To hear your child begging, but knowing you cant do anything.
If this is anything, its hell. | The promises I made mean nothing now. "*Protect her*" were her last words. "*Protect her*"... her words rang over and over again in my mind. It means nothing. The thing outside the door wanted in. "*The thing*?! That's your daughter, for god's sake woman! Get it together.*" I pulled the blankets tighter over my head and curled into a ball. I hugged the shotgun to my body and sobbed.
"Momma, let me in! Mom is dead and I'm all alone!" "*Momma*"... a dead word to me. Mother. Mother to a monster. The door knob jiggled and I shrieked. I knew I was somewhat safe with the oak chest pressed against the door, the dresser over the window. But what if she gets through? I know I can't do it. I might have the guts to kill myself but my daughter? "*I just.... can't...*"
I had failed my wife, letting our daughter be attacked by one of Them. I thought I could make it up if I didn't let any harm come to her. We had seen all of the zombie movies together, so we thought we were prepared. A homeless man began it all, a homeless man would take out my wife and my wife would take out my daughter. What will she do to me?
"Please let me in! I hear something downstairs, I'm scared! Momma please!" I put the pillow over my head and bit my tongue. I could taste the salty blood fill my mouth. "*Damn it! Pull yourself together!*" "There's people downstairs! Let me in! Help me momma! Ah!" O god her screams. They didn't sound human anymore. I heard footsteps hit the floor, followed by muffled voices. If there were more of them, they might get through the door. "*I'm fucked*"
I threw the blanket off and checked my bullets; 3 shells. We never kept this thing loaded, hell we didn't even own bullets. I traded these with a neighbor for an hour with me. My daughter watched as I loaded them and showed her the basics of aiming and shooting. Now I wish I had never touched them. Since I was now trapped completely, I squeezed myself into my last hiding place - the closet. Her voice was a whisper now. "Mom I'm serious, let me in! There's 3 men and they have guns! LET ME IN!!!"
She sobbed as I closed the door. I touched the cold trigger. "*What can I do?*" I ran the options in my head and measured their outcomes. Kill myself. Believe her and let her in, risking death, or possibly saving or killing my daughter. Let the men with guns join her and bring down the door. There was no option in which I make it out safely with my baby girl. Either way, someone had die.
Self preservation screamed in my mind "*ME! SAVE YOURSELF!*" But the mother in me whispered "*Her. Protect her.*" I sat in the dark closet breathing in and out quietly, smelling my own whiskey-tinted breath. "Don't you love me Mommy?" My eyes shot open. "Love?" "Mhm. You still love me... right?" My god, of course I loved her. If she was one of Them or not, I loved her more than anything. There was no use thinking this through. I was going to prove my love and show my baby that I loved her more than anything. More than life.
I shoved through the piles of clothes and swung the gun around, gripping it until my knuckles burned. Protect her. I inched closer to the door. Protect her. With all of my strength I moved the chest out of the door frame. "O god they're here! They have guns! Mom! Mom!!!" "*Not my baby! No, hurry, hurry!*" I pushed the chest enough that I could open the door for her slender fame to squeeze in and for me to push the shot gun barrel through.
I saw the men. I saw her eyes. I gripped my gun. I heard a scream. Everything went black as I fell to the floor. "Protect her." | 2018-09-06T19:24:58 | 2018-09-06T19:15:27 | 140 | 18 |
[WP] You wake up on September 22, 2018 in place you’ve never been before. You can’t remember what happened, everyone you ask doesn’t remember the day before, either. It becomes an international mystery. It seems no one can remember the 21st night of September. | Was love, in fact, changing the minds of pretenders? Was it chasing the clouds away?
These were the questions we wanted to ask ourselves, but we didn’t know.
But then every television screen in the world turned to a message, from some unknown source. “Everyone, remain calm,” it said, in the right languages for each people, “You can fix this. The disco orb is broken, and to fix it you need to assemble the Crystals of Earth, Wind, and Fire.”
The world jumped into action. The Earth Crystal was found first, in the tomb of Kalimba. The Wind Crystal was awarded after the Mighty Mighty was defeated. But the Fire Crystal was found later, in none other than the mythical Serpentine Fire. They were brought together at the UN headquarters in New York, while the whole world was watching.
However, just when the world thought they were on the cusp of victory, they found that the crystals wouldn’t stay together. They tried glueing it and taping it, then they gave it to scientists, but after weeks it still didn’t work. Until, finally, one day, a scientist brought music to play in the lab, and when she started to Sing a Song the orb started to glow. She quickly retrieved the rest of her coworkers, and together they sang along. By their powers combined, the orb glowed brighter, but only slightly. So they got the entire town singing, then the nation, then the world. Only then did the orb glow brighter and brighter until it exploded in technicolor and tie-dye, and everyone remembered.
Love *had* been changing the minds of pretenders, and chasing the clouds away.
True love was here to stay. | Liam had a dream about the old days, when he was a truck driver. It was back before automation took over. He was driving down an open road on a beautiful day in the fall. Lush reds and oranges framed his view for as far as he could see. It was so vivid and beautiful that he didn't want the image to fade from his mind. He was hoping that, if he kept his eyes closed, he would slip back into the dream. But, he knew eventually he would have to wake up and face the world.
Liam heard his phone buzz, and with his eyes still closed, reached for it on his nightstand, only to find that his nightstand wasn't there. He was shocked and confused when he opened his eyes to find that he was in a room completely unfamiliar to him. It was a plain looking bedroom with white walls and beige carpet. There was a window to the right of the bed and daylight was creeping through it's blinds. On the opposite wall was a closed door, and to the right of that was a closet. Liam quickly stood up, and walked over to the window to peer outside. He was in, what appeared to be, a neighborhood of townhomes. Each of which was exactly identical and each of which was eerily perfect. Liam turned around and noticed his phone was on the floor next to the bed. The first thing he noticed when he picked it up was the date.
*Saturday, September 22nd*
It felt like a weight was pressing on Liam’s shoulders. Like the force of gravity suddenly doubled, demanding more strength from him to stand. He sat back down on the bed. His mind was racing trying to recount anything from the day before. But, he couldn’t remember a single thing. In confusion and panic, Liam unlocked his phone and dialed 911.
“We’re sorry, but this number has been disconnected or is not in service.”
The air suddenly felt thicker. Liam felt like a dark cloud was descending over him, and he was losing hope. He suddenly remembered that his phone buzzed when he was waking up. He navigated to his messages and found a text from a number he didn’t recognize.
“Are you there Liam?”
Liam responded back. “Who is this? What is happening to me?”
Liam decided to try calling the number that texted him, but before he could, he received a new text.
“I know you’re confused Liam, but just stay calm, you’re doing great. This is Dr. Howl. Do you remember me?”
Liam was frustrated by the response. He didn’t remember a Dr. Howl, and he still didn’t have any answers. He couldn’t help feeling like a lab rat in a meticulously controlled experiment.
Liam responded. “No, I don’t remember you. I don’t know how I got here. I need answers and I’m not going to waste time talking to you, if you can’t give me that.”
The next text took longer than the first reply. Liam waited patiently for almost a minute before his phone buzzed again.
“Liam, it never gets easier to tell you this. 10 years ago, after you were let go from your job, you stole a truck. You put it into manual mode and drove it 200 miles before you fell asleep at the wheel and crashed into a tree. We were able to save you but you fell into a coma, and have been in a coma ever since. About 5 years ago our hospital was given access to a technology that allowed us to put our comatose patients into a simulation. But, not without its flaws. Patients never remember anything from the previous simulation. I’m sorry to say that we’ve had this conversation every day for the past 5 years. We’re working on a way for patients to retain their memory from the previous simulations, but we’re just not there yet. I know this is hard to take in, but try to live today like it’s your last.”
Liam finished reading the text and tried to take it all in. Before he could think of anything to say back, he received another text.
“Oh, and look outside”
Liam spent the rest of the day driving his truck on the open road, on a beautiful day in the fall.
​
Edit: After writing this whole thing, I just realized that the prompt calls for September 22nd 2018. I'm an idiot. | 2018-09-21T13:04:49 | 2018-09-21T12:01:19 | 86 | 54 |
[WP]: Your son's solution to every problem was to fake his own death. Broke a vase? Fake death. Failed a class? Fake death. Moving out to college, he mysteriously disappeared. 20 years later, you get letter in familiar handwriting. "Mom? Please don't get mad, but I REALLY need your help..." | With shaking hands, I carried my son's letter into my study.
I read it.
Then I read it again.
Over the 20 long years that he was missing, James had lived a wild and varied life, full of hijinks and adventures.
And now my baby was in trouble. A mother's child is always her baby, even if that child is forty years old.
How could I help him?
​
I studied the return address on the envelope. I booted up the computer and opened up Word, searching for the first words I'd say to my son after decades of grief and heartbreak.
​
"Dear James," I started.
​
"I am sorry to inform you that your mother Linda passed away in 2014 after a brief battle with Stage IV kidney cancer..." | When you lose a child, parts of you die with him. You hear stories of people who disappear mysteriously only to be found alive several years later, and you rejoice.
Then the time passes. You're not spending only hope now, and the debt increases as you try as many possible ways to find him.
But time passes once more, and now you're the one who's getting more weared, battered every day. The others around you are giving up, they tell you it's over, "but not my boy!", you say.
Not the boy who brought you that super expensive horchata from the coffe place down the street with his own alimony just cause you let it slip that you always wanted to try it. Not the boy who would stay up all night with me, trying to nurse me back to sleep when the insomnia didn't let me and refused to go to his own bed. Not my boy, who faked his own death a million times after a broken vase, a failed class, you name it, just because he couldn't feel like hurting a living soul. With time, that became a type of tradition, I guess.
But as I said, when your son dies, this time seemingly for real, parts of you die too. The last one to go was hope.
So when I opened that green envelope on the night of last wednesday and read the first lines, I was dumbfounded. Cause the writing sounded like my son, the request was his, but that familiar writing was not.
" ... I need you to go to my room, tonight, at 22:45... "
I looked at the clock stuck on the wall, and it was 22:40.
There were two possible explanations here: first, a sick person could be doing this in hopes of taking that last strenght that keeps an old lady doing her chores through the day, almost on automatic. Second, much less likely, something mysterious was happening that could maybe, just maybe, give me some closure after all this time. And anyway, the clock was ticking.
I revived some of the hope once thought to be dead and went upstairs.
His door was locked, like I always kept it, so the handle jammed a little to open. In the dark room, I tried reaching for the light switch only to realize that that lamp was long gone. With the phone's lantern, I started looking for the thing he specificated in his letter. Looked at the phone: 22:42
Moving through his piles of clothes and objects, I found his favorite cd back in the day, one from Helloween. With the clock suddenly not on my mind anymore, I put it into his old cd player and the music started...
Not fully understanding my actions, I sat on his bed like I'd done several times before and read the lyrics through the liner notes as the music played:
" Forgotten in his reich of shadows, Banned forever, One thought. The lord of the evil Was given name and place of the seventh sea, Shelter of the seventh key. Who was betraitous? I guess You know. There would be more than one name to name, Now he whose name is many searches for the one, The one strong enough to survive As his terrestrial hand Enticement and promise will crown the king
A puppet on a string. For a thousand years. So they sing "
That was when I heard the wardrobe door slightly open...
| 2018-09-25T06:34:19 | 2018-09-25T05:50:38 | 219 | 28 |
[WP] "Death is a gentle thing if you welcome it, like a soft breeze or a bashful kiss." - "Then what's the scythe for?" - "The people who resist." | And at this, I stopped.
"So... we *can* resist."
And though the toothy grin remained, it's smile was gone. "**Ah. Cunning. But clever wheat is still just wheat...**"
But as it swung the glittering edge at me, I heard, as if through deep water- "Charging to 200 Joules. Clear!"
And I was back, surrounded by the white coats of my colleagues, the cold paddles still pressed to my bared chest, the shrill warning cries of machines attached to my veins and nerves settling back to tame chirps -
"Did you see him?" My partner said, face neutral, but eagerness betrayed by that quaver in his voice.
"*It*. Yes. Yes, I saw it." It, the reason for this dangerous gambit...
The room hushed. An expectant silence.
I looked at them, and I felt my eyes well with glad tears. With pride. For us. For humankind.
And for the kind of thing we were finally showing ourselves to be: not scared, not wheat in a field.
"*We can win.*"
A great whoop of joy filled the room, spread into the hall, out the doors into the streets beyond. And the sullen darkness between the stars began to hear the footsteps behind.
| "Define... *resistance"* I asked the hooded figure, who had just appeared in my kitchen
"Well - the way dying works is that I have to sort of... take your life - " It began
"I understand dying, mate"
"And to do that, I have to cast this spell. If the spell is interrupted, then it won't work properly and we have to get - um, how do I say - aggressive. Well, that's how the boss defines resistance anyway, we've had lawyers confused for millennia about how we define it specifically." the creature explained, scratching it's hood with a cloaked arm
"So... I'm going to die?" I asked
"Yes - I mean to explain, we have protocol to go through. So, my name is Erasmus, I represent Death, and I'm here for your soul." Erasmus, while sounding polite and incredibly apologetic, remained perfectly decent given the job he had to do.
"Well you can't have it!" I responded, reaching for a kitchen knife.
Erasmus removed his hood, and his bright, polished skull gave off a little smile.
"Ah, yes, the old 'shoot the messenger' routine That won't work, I'm afraid."
I threw the knife at where the torso would have been - and I heard it hit the fridge behind.
"Hang on - wait!" I cried
"We've got all the time you need, sir, I only need to collect your soul by the end of the hour." Erasmus said - I looked at the clock: 2:46.
"Ok - what about Heaven and Hell?" I asked
"Well, there is... extra punishment, sir. Those who resist go to 'Hell', and those who accept get to go to 'Heaven'" Erasmus said, and made what I assumed was air marks with his cloaked hands
"Right. OK."
"Do I have your consent, Mr. James Delview, to remove your soul from your body in the plain and bring it with me, Erasmus, representative of Death, to-"
"Hang on a minute, mate, I've just been told I'm going to die. Give us a minute" I said, removing a hangnail with my teeth.
"You have twelve minutes, Mr Delview."
"What happens if I resist, again?"
"I use this." Erasmus' scythe-handle was held by the cloak, and the other 'hand' pointed to it.
"How, exactly?"
"With all due respect, sir, we at Death are not permitted to tell our customers about scythe usage, according to Chapter Six, Rule Fourteen, Verse Three -"
"Customer!?" I cried, interrupting again
"Well, I do get paid, sir - this is a job, after all"
"How do you apply for this job?"
"Die."
"God, I bet you're a jobsworth. What am I go to die of?"
"Well, sir - we have ten minutes, by the way - the court of the coroner will rule the bradycardia, stemming from your diabetes, will get the better of you."
"What happens to my body?"
"It stays here."
"OK."
"Are you ready, sir?"
"I - I think so."
"Do I have your consent, Mr. James Delview, to remove your soul from your body in the Earthly plain and bring it with me, Erasmus, representative of Death, to the higher realm?"
I gave a nod, and felt a single, but somewhat courageous tear slip down my face.
Erasmus began to speak in a bizarre, alien incantation. I felt a small, warm mark in my chest, and I shut my eyes, tight. But I didn't need to. I could feel myself falling - falling fast. I expected to hit the floor, but I kept falling. I heard Erasmus' voice, keeping going. I felt warm, and comfortable, all over. And then I felt nothing.
​
Here you are! Criticism is thanked. | 2018-10-25T09:22:40 | 2018-10-25T07:42:10 | 71 | 42 |
[WP]You and your friends grew up in a small town far from any magic schools but managed to learn it eventually. You always pushed and challenged each other, unaware of how strong you were. Then one day a city mage happened to pass through town. | On phone waiting for an interview so sorry for the format.
"We were 10 when we finally cracked magic. Jerome was the first of us. Ironic really since he seemed to have a slowness about him. Not mentally of course but physically whenever you came around him things just seemed to slow. Like time itself decided to take it easy around him.
Now you gotta realize it was a complete shock to us when he caused light to sprout from his hand but it was a sign of hope for the five of us."
"How so." Interrupted the traveling mage. A young looking man seemingly no older than 25 with a coppery brown mane of hair sea blue eyes, and surprisingly normal. However instead of robes he was wearing hardier travel wear nothing heavy but nothing about him gave away a mastery of magical ability.
"Really? Now? Why do you have to make things complicated?" Chimed in the knight next to him. A handsom woman with chin length hair the color of a bright green moss. It stood out a lot against her tan skin. I had heard those blessed by an earth guardians were given that change to enchant their enemies giving a strong compulsion to strike them first. Something that seems to be effectove goven the nasty scar across her face starting well above her hairline wrapping across the plane of her forehead and stopping just short of her brow. Something i suspect her to be a bit self concious about as her lips had some beauty product quite a few shades lighter than her skin. Possibly to attract the eyes but before i could continue the thought the compulsion took over again.
"Because we were given the aptitude test when we turned 5 like everyone else and failed. So if somone who failed the test was able to use magic it meant we could too."
"And what or who taught you."
"No one but we did have a book. It was called 'So You Want To Learn Magic But You Are Too Dumb' bit of a derogatory title and at first we just did it as a means of resolution. After all not getting a chance to learn simply because someone says you can't is hard to accept. We also reasoned that there were plenty of adventurers who could use magic and far as we knew weren't linked to any magic academies, so it reasons that they had to figure out how on their own some way."
"Ha" came the handsome woman's response who seemed to be interested now.
"Tsk" Clicked the mage, a clear contempt for the adventurers mentioned.
And man does being under a compulsion spell sucks. Not like i planned to lie to begin with. I tend to babble like an idiot most of the time, something Jumiper gets onto me about when i get out of control. But it makes countering spells easier I find. But a compulsion spells makes it harder to entertwine the words and actions to dispel something thats already in effect. Something I am learning now.
"Do you still have this book? And what are your collegues names and specialtie." He said more as a command than question.
"Well I am Gillian you can call me Gil or Gilly, and may i know your names?" YES i got a bit of control back.
"Names Kim his is Juvaal. And don't give me that look you can prattle on how names have power but remember how many times i. Locked a hit coming your way."
Juvaal's glare went from Kim to me. "Answer the question." Crossing his arms as he spoke aaand there goes what progress I made, i could feel the influence get stronger and a slight pressure form inside like not goving in would cause immense harm.
"Well there is Jerome whom i mentioned before Jumiper, Alicia, Forgrun and me. If i had to say specialty then i would say speed and healing"
Both of my interviewers visibly shift at that "water and traps, augmentation and precog as she puts it" Juvaal takes a step forward but i push on "ice, lightning, and fire" Kim's eyes light up, huh never noticed that they were green. "and I typically do spell manipulation, close combat, and I'm a damn good cook."
"Bullshit" Juvaal starts "anyone with healing abilities would have been recruited by the church, army, or medical associations maybe all three. And divinators would have been ushered to the royal capital to-" he cuts himself short realizing in an instant what I did.
"You.."
"It was when you took control back." I say with the biggest shit eating grin I could muster. "All i did was widen the influence and when you clamped back down let you lock in my changes. The hardest part was keeping the changes subtle enough that you couldn't notice and wait for ot to start effecting you."
Kim roars with laughter pointing to Juvaal saying "I can't wait to tell the magicians assocoation that a country bumpkin got the best of you."
Juvaal sputters back "Shut it you, you.."
But he doesnt get to finish Kim manages to resist the influence turning to me and says "Color me interested kid I want to see what you can do first hand. Maybe my friend here can get a better idea with what to do."
I take the lax feeling in the conversation to break the compulsion spell causing Juvaal to wince. Turning to Kim I respond "Gladly we were getting tired of practicing with each other it would be nice to know how we measure up to the world." | 1/3. Edited for formatting and Holy Character Count Limit, Batman!
So I grew up in a one-stoplight town. Hey, don’t look at me like that. Add back those twenty I.Q. points that you just removed from your estimation of me. There are plenty of us who’ve never sported track marks or meth-mouth. Neither do I have three kids by as many baby-daddies. Admittedly, small towns in flyover country can be lacking in productive amusements. My hometown happens to be too close to a major city. Al Capone use to run some of his operations out of here. And since it is “on the lake,” you have other unsavory types trying to ram bad business deals down the throats of the local “rubes.”
And then there are the fucking tourists, I tell ya…Fourth of July weekend you’ve got twelve year olds driving golf carts, swigging whiskey. Shanty Irish, as my grandma used to say with a sniff. The things that my parents and grandparents taught me, they never framed it as magic. It was more a matter of “hey, look at this.” My dad is freaking St. Francis, the way he has with animals. Deer come right up to him to say hi. The meanest pit bull or rottweiler will cuddle up to him for a pat on the head. He has a subtle honor guard of songbirds if he takes a walk in the woods. The rabbits still come nibble our garden, but they keep it to polite levels of losses. When we lived across from a cow pasture, Dad would blow on the bottle of beer he was drinking. Taught me how, and harmonics too. It took me way longer than I want to admit to realize he was actually showing me how to talk to the cows.
Incidentally, the cow-talk seems universal. I tried it down in middle-of-nowhere Veracruz. They run Cebus down there instead of Jerseys or Angus. It still worked. But I digress. Mom, she has more questionable luck. There was a big storm system coming off the lake and she took me down to the beach in order to see some waterspouts. My waist-length hair started to stand on end and she dragged me off the beach right quick. She continued my meteorology lessons at a far smaller scale after that. But there are endless gags you can do in that vein if you work in a technical field… hair like mine is just a big capacitor, after all.
At this point I’m sure you think I’m mad. But check my travel records- do a winter trip to Arizona, it becomes the rainiest that month has been in decades. Several times. My semester in Mexico broke a nasty drought- it wasn’t just travelling with my mother. And when I went farther afield…the puddle-jumper to Bloemfontein ran afoul of a monsoon-style storm in the middle of their dry season. Among other things. That was a bumpy trip. I usually feel a storm coming but I guess the weather patterns down there are different enough where the signals are jammed. Who knows?
In any case, I had friends with their own little abilities. Julie, she had a talent for talking people into things. It didn’t work with her parents, but she had teachers wrapped around her little finger. Anna, she could just blend into the woodwork. You just didn’t notice her until she wanted you to. Mary, she became a paramedic to work her way through nursing school. Her co-workers knew that if she was on shift, it would be much less likely to be a shitty night. Dan…he had incredible luck. That fucker paid his college tuition with scratcher tickets. I had to bust ass and get a scholarship.
In the end it didn’t matter, though, if Dan had taken student loans. Dan O.D.-ed and was found by his mother, well gone. Fuck heroin. And fuck his city dealer with something red hot and spiky. And fuck Dan in a matter far kinkier than my sheltered Catholic upbringing can imagine, for picking that shit up in the first place. Goddammit, Dan…
Uh, right. Anyway…the five of us go/went way back- appearing in the same First Communion class picture and all. We grew up, went into our various fields, but more or less stayed nearby. We sorta egged each other on and cross-trained each other in some of our “interesting” skills. We knew there were magic schools, but we lacked the family connections to get in. My family, in any case, was more fond of “homeschooling” methods anyway. Our high school didn’t even have A.P. courses; we were used to the notion that if we wanted an education worth anything at all, we’d have to do it ourselves.
Finding the resources for independent learning is far more difficult than you’d think- those Wiccan twits really muddy the waters. But Mary’s ancestors in these parts go way, way back, and they have long memories…
One day I get a text from Anna: Margarita night. This Friday. Car keys go in lockbox upon entry. Did I mention Anna became a real estate agent? A very good one, as people talked more freely around her. In any case, she’d bought a sweet place, threw lots of parties, and used her realtor lockboxes to make sure people didn’t drive home drunk. This, however, would be a far smaller party with a very certain guest-list. We’d all been busy and hadn’t gotten together in a while. However, this text felt like it had a certain weight behind it.
Friday came, I drove to Anna’s house, and dropped my keys into the little grey box. Mary came next, grabbed the bottle of añejo, and poured herself a shot, not bothering with the mixers. Blechh. Julie arrived last- the public defender’s office was a bit far, and she worked late more often than not. Anna poured together a cloying strawberry-flavored monstrosity as soon as she heard Julie’s car door slam. Me? I’m a purist. On the rocks. Lots of salt. Don’t bother with the top shelf stuff, save it for drinking straight.
“Good news!” Julie said to Mary. “Those Narcan shipments will be in soon- our town barely squeaked onto the list.” “Thank God,” Mary sighed. “We’re drowning.” I drank my margarita and let them settle in.
“Hail, hail the gang’s all here,” I said. If Anna wanted some house-flipper’s landscaping eaten, she would’ve just asked me to lunch. Calling us all in, off normal schedule? I was a little worried. “So what the fuck is going on?” I asked Anna.
“Mrs. Anderson’s farm sold this week,” she announced. “For less than half of list price.” Mrs. Anderson’s place had been coveted by developers for years. Eventually she let one of the realtors run a listing with an insane asking price- ignoring any offers that came in. It brought her more peace than the wholesaler vultures knocking at her door every other day. Among locals it was well-known that she would leave that house carried out the door feet first. Julie choked on her strawberry crap.
“Where is she going now?”
“Bought a little condo upstate to be near her daughter.” Mrs. Anderson was Dan’s grandmother. Dan’s mother had to get away from here after she’d lost him. Mrs. Anderson was not the sort to enjoy city living.
“Mrs. Anderson argues with the supermarket cashier to make sure she gets the advertised twenty-five cents off a can of tomato soup,” I said. I’d been behind her a couple of times and ended up reading every tabloid in the rack. “This sounds shady as hell.”
“No shit,” Anna said. “I forwarded her an officer fifty percent higher just last month. What changed?” | 2018-12-05T10:12:09 | 2018-12-05T10:01:18 | 21 | 10 |
[WP] At the age of 18, people are given one superpower of their choice. While your friends and acquaintances choose super strength, flight, invisibility, telekinesis, they make fun of you for your “nerd” power. You decide to show them just how powerful manipulation of the strong nuclear force is. | “You want to be able to manipulate the what?” The Authorised Superpower Assignment Officer asked.
“Manipulate the strong nuclear force” I reply in eager anticipation.
“Riiiight.. as long as you are aware that this procedure is non-reversible, and that you only get one choice”
“I’m fully aware of this yes, I’ve thought long and hard about this choice”
“Ok. In addition to being given this superpower, you will also be granted the knowledge on its use in its entirety, so that it isn’t misused or result in accidental damages. Are you ready to proceed?”
“I am”
I step into the assignment chamber, not knowing how the procedure will actively affect me, will hurt? Will I feel anything at all? Will it take long? All questions that I have asked and never been given a satisfactory answer to.
I wait patiently, looking around for anything of note to take my mind off of the procedure - but there’s nothing... a bland white room, with nothing inside but me. I don’t know how long I’ve been in here, but it feels like forever.
I hear the door, it’s the ASAO from earlier.
“All done! As a final check, all those who are granted superpowers affecting physical objects must demonstrate their powers before leaving”
He places a coffee mug on the floor.
“Go ahead”
I focus on the mug, I feel a sort of ‘switch’ flip in my mind and I know what it is I want to do - I give a short flick of my wrist.
“Can you pick the mug up?” I ask the ASAO
He bends down and grabs it, though even with his best effort, isn’t able to pick it up. He lets go and I snap my fingers.
“How about now?”
Again he bends down and finds that this time he can pick the mug up.
“Is that it? You can make objects stick together or come apart?”
“Exactly!”
“Seems a bit of a waste to me, you could’ve had literally anything else, but you chose this...”
Feeling like the ASAO is downplaying my decision, making it out to be a waste, I focus on the mug again and snap my fingers once more. With nothing to hold them together, the individual atoms that make up the mug come apart, where the shape of the mug once was there is now nothing - the ASAOs hand clenches quickly as a result.
Before he can open his hand again, I give another short flick of my wrist. He realises what I’ve just done and frantically tries to pry his fingers open again.
“What the hell is wrong with you! We give you this power and the knowledge to use it properly, and you’ve misused it before you even step foot outside!” He shouts, clearly furious that this shouldn’t have happened.
“I didn’t misuse it, I fully intended on doing this to you the moment you downplayed my choice. Do you not realise that with this power, there is no door I cannot open, no obstacle that can get in my way.”
I snap my fingers again, releasing his grip from itself.
“Thank you for your time, I’ll make sure you’re last” | The blow (I usually write in french since it’s my first language so here goes nothing)
I remember sitting near the blackboard, where the clock barely striked eleven above our heads. A glance out the windows defiled a relatively enjoyable morning into a foul day, heavy like every student’s conscience. We had learned today, besides other redundant speculative mathers —but prior to that—, we had learned that what was out of the reach of our craziest desires, in the midst of our young hearts, what was passionately bolting in our dreams through our heads and against the magical walls of the unconscious realm, it was actually sustainable here too, in the real world. We had the newly given opportunity to manifest our most insane fantasies, without actually having to lie in the aftermath. Nonetheless, everyone would have one. Like a troubling lucid dream. A power. A gods-like ability, and the responsabilities that come with. Flight, strength, invisibility, telekinesis; they all had chosen.
While I’m a frail character, constantly sitting in the front, not mouthing a word during any of the lessons, always showing off my back to my peers, it wouldn’t be irrational to think that I wouldn’t choose anything quite like they did. So I didn’t, and this is the story of how I got the affectionate nickname of “nerd”.
We were gathered —well, a handful of us students were— in a semi-empty warehouse on the docks, no need to say more. It was near a quarter past six, the dusk of dawn was barely brushing off of the windows and our uncomfortable grins, the cold air sharpened like ice picks poking through the holes in our shirts. We were waiting, but for what? We were waiting for one to unveil the reason that dragged us in this rusty metallic hole in the first place. Each of us had received the night before, and oddly enough it was for each of us on the night of our birthday, a word, a note scribbled with a pencil on the back of what seemed to be a tag of some sort. It read on the front side a funny little quote, or a number. Sometimes it was an image. On mine it said “May the best”. I think the rest of the sentence was either washed or scratched away. On the back, otherwise, it stated clearly to meet in this location, at this hour. Here we were all waiting, dubitous and frankly, quite tired, for something to happen, for someone to burst out of somewhere and explain to us what was going on. None of that happened. Instead, the taunting voice of a toddler screeched out of the silence, chanting, probably from a record player hidden somewhere.
“Close your eyes redemption is near, state out your wish that you hold so dear.”
Petrified, we all held our tongues, and after what seemed to be an eternity, fled out of there like the wind. But you can’t restrain a thought.
As soon as we set foot out of the door, one started flying, another was gliding on a trail of ice, some where irrationally strong given their foot imprints destroying the concrete, this one shapeshifted in everything imaginable in under a minute, a few were nowhere to be seen but could still be heard. Meanwhile I was still there, and unquestionnably the same. After a few minutes of newly existential awakening, they all came to terms with their new powers, but their attention had shifted to none other than myself. Two dozen blokes, staring, like an error had infiltrated their system.
“What did you think about?” one asked.
“N-nothing I swear!”
“Liar!”
And they all started tormenting me, with words, pressure, violence.
“Tell us!”
“Leave me alone!” I cried, exhausted and, for the first time in my life, genuinely afraid.
They were chanting and flying and swirling around me, throwing hits and objects, showing off those abilities, grotesquely using their powers to torture my mind. They pushed it further, and further, and deeper, and deeper, until I simply gave in.
“Molecular rearrangement! Molecular rearrangement. Enough of this now.”
Agonizing moment of silence. A whole minute went by. Suddenly, laughter. A grave, shuddering, ridiculous sound, echoing to the shore.
“Nerd!”, they were chanting.
Nerd! Nerd! Nerd! Nerd! It made no fickle of sense to their ears, and it didn’t refrain them from harrassing me, if not they were hitting even harder. It started to become gruesome and honestly dangerous, when a comrade rose to the air holding another firmly —who was actually standing aside this whole time— between his arms who, eyes shut, hands over his face, once high enough uncovered his eyes and let an impressive ray of blue light shine right through and hit my chest.
The heaviness. The regain of consciousness. The aching, the pain, the smell of burnt flesh. The trigger. This particular child, may he be blinded by his gift, he was, within a sign, within a fraction of time, a movement of my hand, barely noticeable even, instantly disintegrated from the surface of this planet. I had manipulated the molecules surrounding him to pulverize him with blunt nuclear force. Had I done too much? Had I gone to far? Everyone was in awe, too overwhelmed and afraid to say a word. The sky, which was of a bright blue, had turned dark and ashyand the air, crisp. And so I turned my back to the others, heading towards the way of the school and blurted out, nonchalantly: “see you in class.”
An hour later here we were, sitting at our desks, drained by the sound of the slowly ticking clock and lifting the weight of an oh-so heavy atmosphere. | 2018-12-20T23:59:18 | 2018-12-20T23:37:21 | 61 | 20 |
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