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[WP] As you sip your morning coffee, you open up your Sims Universe 3 game on your quantum computer. As you zoom in on a planet you've been watching and tormenting, you notice the governments of the world building a strange device. A flash. A man appears before you. "Are you god?" He asks. | "Yep.", I said with arrogant confidence. I'd prepared for this day a thousand times in my head. I knew they would one day advance themselves to the point of stepping out of their world and into mine.
"Good."
He had clearly been preparing just as long to say that as he reached into his pocket, soon after brandishing a gun that could have only been made with a singular purpose in mind: to kill a god.
"Whoa, what the fuck, man!" This certainly wasn't a scenario I had imagined in those thousand times.
"Our people are suffering! You only gave us one bathroom in each major city and you destroy any new ones as soon as we build them!"
"God works in mysterious ways, my child." Thank you for that old gem, Christianity.
"That's not mysterious, that's malicious!"
"What about all those things I have given you? Everyone has a roof over their head and food in their bellies."
"Sure, thank you for that and whatnot, but there's still the problem of where the food goes after it's done in our bellies!"
"You seem pretty hung up on this bathroom problem. Is that what that smell is?"
He cocks back the hammer on the gun. Uh oh.
"This is what everything smells like, thanks to you!"
"Okay. Okay, fine. I'll add more bathrooms. You could have just tried praying, you know. This gun thing is a bit unnecessary."
"You don't think we've tried that? Do you not see the constant prayer bubbles atop our heads?"
"Oh, I thought those were just what's on your minds.", I say feigning ignorance in hopes of deescalating this strange situation.
"Yes, things on our minds that we want. That we're praying to you for."
"I'm... I'm sorry. You all were just clumps of colors and code to me. I was simply playing a video game."
"Oh, so our entire universe is just a game to you, asshole? Mindless bits of AI that you can torture to your sadistic heart's content?"
"I mean, yeah, pretty much.", I say as I start interacting with my computer to demonstrate to this man exactly what is the world he came from. "See, this is your planet. Just one of many that I've built. Here's another, where no one gets a house but everyone has a swimming pool."
The man was not prepared for this. His head begins shaking in disbelief. "No, this can't be! My entire world, my entire reality, my entire life is just for the amusement of this so-called god?"
"So-called? You exist because of me. Have some damn respect."
"I'll never respect you."
"But I respect you, and your people. What an amazing achievement it is to have advanced to the point where you can actually escape your world and enter ours. Are you actually able to go back as well, or was this a one-way mission for you?"
He seems to be thrown off a bit by that. Impressing a god is no easy feat.
"Well, thank you for those kind words, I guess. I can go back at any time by pressing this but--", before he can even finish his sentence, I reach out and press the button, sending him home in a flash.
After a few moments and a few clicks, my screen reads: "The Sims Universe 3 Uninstalled".
As I lie down to sleep, I think to myself, "What if my life is just a game too? My entire reality simply generated by bits. I wonder if my life will end with a..."
Click. | Sighing I sipped my coffee. *Welp it was bound to happen I guess….fuck*. As the man before me stars in wonder I reach under my desk. *bang*. Looking at the now dead body I had heard rumors of this game getting to real. Swiveling around my chair I face my screen. Watching my Sims begin to worry as they haven’t heard back from their “emissary” to god. *click, click, scroll, double click*. As the file began deletion I vaguely wondered if they knew what was occurring. Picking up the box I called the toll free number on the side. “Thank you for calling customer service for The Sims XXI. All calls are recorded and monitored for quality. For issues regarding your purchase or shipping press 1. For instillation assistance, press 2. For all other issues please press 3 or stay on the line and a representative will be with you shortly. *Beeeep*. | 2021-06-29T12:50:36 | 2021-06-29T12:19:51 | 35 | 10 |
[WP] God sends everyone who hasn't heard of Christianity to heaven because they wouldn't know if they sinned. At a point in history (of your choosing) an order is found that seeks to make Christianity as little known as possible so everyone can go to heaven without having to obey god's commandments.
edit: I meant founded | We've tried everything. *Everything.* The first thing we did when we realized the problem, and we thought this was really going to be foolproof, was to play up the whole apocalypse aspect. Christianity said the world is going to end, and a lot of Christians at the time of our founding figured the world was going to end pretty soon. So we really made quite sure that everyone associated Christianity with the imminent fiery destruction of the world.
The bastards ate it all up. They *loved* it. Christianity actually *grew* because of our first efforts, taking over the known world. Hoo boy. If only the world *had* ended then, at least most people would have gone to heaven! We didn't give up, though. We bided our time, consolidated our power. Worked on some side projects. Put a Christian nut job in the highest office of the most powerful nation on Earth. Didn't work. People liked him, and he managed to make a squeaky clean legacy for himself, if only by comparison to the nut jobs who'd previously held the office. So we put an anti-Christian nut job in the same position, and what a disaster that was. Strength under persecution and all that. We'd tried this kind of stuff before and it never had really worked, but this time was definitely the last shot. Everyone who filled the office after him was an ardent Christian.
So we waited and waited, sent an agent to the Middle East, one of the few places we could think of where most people still weren't Christians. He really stirred up quite a bit of trouble! The organization hasn't seen another like him in all these years. His portrait is still placed prominently in our main office, though we never could give him proper public recognition.
Our man in the Middle East managed to get himself a good war going, a nice slow burner fraught with geopolitical implications. Then we had the talking heads tell the Christians, 'oh, you simply *have* to go fight in this war, it's really a true *holy war*, save your brothers and sisters in the east!' We thought people would hear "holy war" and realize how crazy this whole thing had gotten.
They signed up in droves. The whole thing was a mess, and we didn't know how to stop the fighting after it started.
Our most recent large-scale endeavor was to accuse huge numbers of Christians of unfaithfulness. There were monkey trials, torture devices, everything! This one would work for sure, we thought. Who watches their friends and neighbors be put on trial and sentenced to death, knowing they're innocent? A lot of people, as it turned out.
Oh, some people ended up getting quite angry about the whole affair and the rest of our antics, but do you know what they did? They decided that *that* wasn't Christianity. *They* knew what Christianity *really* was. And it turned out that Christianity was mostly the same as ever, only now *they* were in charge.
At this point I don't know what to do. We haven't for a while now, not really. That's why I resigned.
The new guy has some good ideas, though. Seems to think if we preach actual Christianity, the peace and love stuff, people will be turned off. People have shown us one thing over the centuries: that the more violent our religion gets, the more they will love it. So Frankie's really been laying it on thick. "Who am I to judge," and all that. I wish him luck, I truly do. | Sea of Tranquility, 1969.
Buzz Aldrin lay out the equipment of a communion. To hell with orders, this was being photographed. NASA might not let it on the radio, but they couldnt stop him photographing it. The photos would get leaked to the press, and people would finally have an image that proved religion and science where not mutually exclusive.
There was a knock on the LEM hatch.
They where on the moon, and something had just knocked on the door. Neil and Buzz looked at each other, and then out the LEM's small windows.
There was a figure there, in a Soviet space suit. A rosary was draped around it's neck, and it carried a cross. It held up a laminated card with some writing on.
*NO EVIDENCE OF ANYTHING CHRISTIAN. THE FUTURE BEGS YOU.*
Saint Alexi Leonov, commander of the Soviet Cosmomunks, turned away, and slowly bounced back across the gray landscape.
| 2015-09-12T07:16:48 | 2015-09-12T06:58:14 | 176 | 19 |
[WP]You adopt a stray cat. The gifts it leaves on your bed are getting more concerning. | I thought it was adorable at first. It started a few days after I brought her home. I had a giant potted plant in my living room. It's leaves were bigger than the cats head. She would rip an entire leaf off the plant, and carry it all the way up the stairs, down the hall to my bedroom and leave it on my bed.
It was cute, but upsetting since I loved this plant and had it for a couple years. After a couple leaves, she would get into my laundry and began leaving me socks. Always different socks. Different colors, and she never grabbed the same sock twice. This went on for a couple weeks. It wasn't ever day mind you.
Just every 2-3 days. after about a month, is when it got weird. Things that I know she shouldn't have been able to grab ended up on the bed. Potatoes are one thing. Rather large, but no teeth marks. How did she get it up the stairs and onto my bed? Then there was the can of chicken noodle soup. Not the small one either, the bigger one. The one you get when your really hungry or really really like soup.
After the can of soup, it stared escalating. Shoes, bars of soap, coat hangers, shampoo bottle and a picture frame. I started putting things away more, thinking it would help. I got into the habit of not leaving a single thing out. I got child locks on kitchen cabinets.
I kept all the doors in the house closed, but somehow, that just made it even worse. Exactly 3 months after I brought her home, I found a knife. I remember coming home from work that day. I walked up the stairs to my room and opened my door. I remember thinking I had finally won.
She hadn't brought anything in since I shut all the doors. She was even sleeping on the couch when I came home. But when I walked into my room I could feel the color drain from my face. A knife. And not just any knife, it was a bloody one. I remember staring at it for a few seconds before I ran down the stairs and out of the house.
I went to my neighbors and called the police. Within minutes they were there and investigating the house, asking me all kinds of questions. The thing was, it was not a knife I owned. I have no idea how it got in my home. After a few hours, they left. They took the knife, and dozens of pictures.
They found no trace of anything out of place. As I shut the door behind me, I walked up the stairs to my room once more. As I walked into my room, I saw my cat standing on my bed, exactly where the knife had been. Only this time, she had something in her mouth, and it was dripping.
In horror, I watched her drop the object onto my bed and look up at me, as if proud of her find. It was a finger. A human finger. Freshly severed. I felt the room start spinning and I felt dizzy. My stomach started doing flips and she just stared at me and mowed happily. | I couldn’t turn away fast enough. I immediately slammed the door closed and screamed “WHAT THE FUCK!!” in utter disbelief of the image forever now branded into my deepest synapsis. Atoms overloaded, neurons on all cylinders, new pathways forged instantaneously. Milliseconds turned into centuries as I barely made two steps before buckling to my knees head in hands. I had to crawl away as fast as I could but my body was moving thru tar. Just as I looked up and took my first breath; I saw my wife walk into the house, the cat at her feet… | 2021-12-17T07:06:19 | 2021-12-17T07:05:33 | 47 | 10 |
[WP] Write a serious story whose last line is a pun so bad it makes you groan. | “Hey,” Jack’s mom put a gentle hand on her son’s shoulder. “It’s gonna be fine, you’ll have a great time.”
Jack remained silent, his eyes idly tracking the rise and fall of the telephone wires that raced alongside the car.
His mom returned her hand to the steering wheel and the pair continued on in a silence she was determined to break.
“You’ll get to see Jeff again-- that’ll be fun, won’t it?”
With all the moodiness a thirteen-year-old could muster, Jack snorted. Jeff was a fuck up the magnitude of which could only be rivaled by their estranged father.
“Would be better if you came with,” Jack mumbled.
Now it was his mom’s turn to be quiet. A thousand scenes of love and heartache swirled in her mind; the day she met him, the day they were married, the day he left. She sniffed hard and cracked a window, hoping to blame it on outside allergies.
“I… I cant, sweetheart, you know that.” Even if Liam hadn’t attempted to take a restraining order out against her ““for being a crazy bitch” there was no way she could bear to see him in person again. It had been too long, he had changed too much. In a moment her therapist would later call “strikingly self-aware,” she briefly wondered if she herself had changed at all.
“How long?”
The unprompted question chased away any thoughts of guilt and she seized the opportunity to jump on it.
“Just a week or so-- you know how the courts can be. I’ll get everything sorted out properly and you can come home soon. I’ll get us passes to that new water park, too, how does that sound?”
Jack resisted the urge to snort again as the car slowed to a stop in front of a tree-lined dirt road. His mom, for all her flaws, tried her best, and it was more than could ever be said for his father.
“No closer?”
His mom smiled, even though her eyes were beginning to water. “I’m sorry sweetheart. Don’t forget your bag.”
Without another word Jack pulled himself out of the car. Pretending not to hear his mom crying, he grabbed the duffelbag off the back seat, mumbled a farewell, and began the march up to the house.
It was a hike he’d made only twice before, though he was too young to remember the first visit. A man in a dark suit had deposited him unceremoniously on the front porch then before getting back into his state-issued car. But now it was all routine, just another transfer.
Jeff was waiting on the front porch. He’d be eighteen this summer, but Jack doubted he was looking at starting college, let alone finishing high school.
“Hey,” was all he said. Jack just nodded.
Jack followed him into the musty old house their dad visited just often enough to claim permanent residence. Flies buzzed around the dishes in the sink, a persistent cloud of cigarette smoke seemed to linger around every corner.
Jeff propped open the guest bedroom door for him.
Taking in his new room, Jack sighed. The old spring mattress with a quilt on it was the same, as was the paint peeling around the floorboard. The only new addition-- and one that caused him to stop in his tracks-- was a simple board someone had had the sick sense of humor to mount with the back half of a tomcat.
“What the fuck is that?” he deadpanned, eyeing the limp, moth-eaten tail.
“Oh yeah,” Jeff said from the doorway. “Dad said you might like it. Might remind you of your ma-- a catastrophe.” | It all went down this week. Being a Jamaican born man, living in America was a shock to me. I moved here just a week ago and couldn't find a good job so I did what I left Jamaica to escape. I found a good supplier for Marijuana on a large scale.
Business was slow at first, people thought I was trying to scam them and were very untrusting of me. Maybe it was my looks, or my heavy accent.
I was fed up. Getting frustrated, I lashed out a little. This man who said he smoked but did not want to buy from me heard me say "I'm not a bad guy, I love weapons!"
He ran away from me.
I said it to the next man that I tried to convince to buy a little bit of pot.
He heard me say "I'm not a bad man, I love weapons!"
I finally decided to apply for a real job, somewhere that I can browse reddit at work. After all, I'm not a bad guy, I love Web puns. | 2016-08-23T09:45:53 | 2016-08-23T09:26:11 | 25 | 11 |
[WP] Last week the scientific community presented incontrovertible evidence that the universe is a simulation. Today the gaming community presented the first glitch guide. | We met a Pokemon convention, protesting Game Freak's boneheaded decision to remove all Kanto Pokemon from the latest game.
She had wavy, pink hair that I couldn't stop looking at. Normally when someone passes me with colorful hair, I immediately assume they are my enemy. But her? I had to ask her to get a coffee just so I could look at it some more.
"Ugh," she says, sitting down. “It's horrible, isn't it?"
"What's horrible?" I ask absentmindedly, staring at her hair still.
She snaps her fingers in my face. "God, I'm not like some Pokemon. And I ignored the fact you've been staring at my hair for twenty minutes because I thought you were cute rather than creepy. Was I wrong?"
I shake my head. "Sorry. It's just...my life is the same, day after day, and I see the same things and the same people, day after day. So your hair, it's like..."
"A glitch?" she asks.
"Yeah. A glitch, or maybe it's a sign." I catch her slightly confused face.
"Sorry, I have this thing where I think the universe is a giant video game."
She cocks her head. "So am I not real then? Am I an NPC?"
I shake my head, harder this time. "No. It's a huge MMO, and we can all win."
"That sounds nice," she says with a smile. Seeing that smile, I realize her hair was never the main attraction.
\-
Her hair is long gone, but the smile is still there. Lying in her hospital bed, I try only to focus on the smile.
"I have to log out soon," she whispers into my ear. "I can feel it."
I force myself to look in her eyes, to smile. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I couldn't find a way."
"You weren't supposed to. It's cancer, dumbass. And you were just supposed to be with me, and that was enough. More than enough."
I have nothing to say.
"Was I enough?" she asks.
"Of course. When I was with you, I felt like a winner. And when you leave, I'll go back to being a loser."
She pulls me close, and kisses my ear. "What do you do when it's game over? You just quit?"
"No."
"What do you do?"
\-
*Start over.*
Her last words echo in my brain all the time. But now it's two years later, and I'm still lost. I've tried a new city, a new job, some new girls. Let my mom talk me into trying the "straight path" a few times, went on some dates with guys who were nice enough. And maybe I am bisexual, or even straight. But I know it doesn't matter.
Everyone isn't her. And that's all I need to know I won't fall in love again, not like I did.
The news of the simulation a few months ago didn't make me particularly sad, or happy. Just a little regret she never found out our little theory was true.
But now? Now they say there's ways to...change the game.
My apartment smells like what's cooking. Two pints of mud, one tablespoon of pig's blood...whoever wrote the code for this loved their witch's potions.
A grayish-brown drink is the result. I pour a glass.
They said on the dark web this code can break other binaries in the game, and potentially cause disruptions in space-time.
But I don't care. I take a-
"Wow," she says. "You were really going to drink that?"
And there she is, standing in front of me. I drop the glass, and nasty mud-smoothie gets all over my legs. But I don’t care. Because she is here.
I don't go up to her, for fear of touching her and finding only air and the cruelty of my delusions.
Then she walks up to me, and touches my cheek, like she is scared I will break.
"You know, when I was gone," she says. "I talked to the creator."
"The creator? Of...all this?"
"You know what he told me? He said the real glitches aren't what the government published. The real glitches are the ones with risk. The ones that...might not work, or might break things, or might only help you in a side quest."
"Why?"
"Because players who use them...." she leans down and kisses me, and it's like no time at all has passed.
"They know the glitches and cheats are what makes a game special."
\-
[r/penguin347](https://reddit.com/r/penguin347) | Finally, a prompt I can work with!
**Setting:** Tenobel, Unreality, 11 Days Post-Revelation
It's been 11 days since the so-called "Fatal Study." The most controversial report that everyone knew was true.
Some went on with their lives as normal. Some tried to screw things up on purpose, because they aren't real, it doesn't matter.
For me, and the other 63 Exploitationists, it was an opportunity. We grew up on video games to to the point it couldn't be considered healthy, but now that we've discovered it's all just another game, we've been breaking it down just like any other. And today, the fruits of our labor - all 64 of us working on 3 hours of sleep and copious amounts of caffeine - will be released for others like us: *The Exploitationist's Guide to Breaking the Game*.
But I worried. Could some of these glitches be *too* gamebreaking? Might they affect the good of everyone around us, real or not? Psycrow's work in particular came to mind. The duplication glitch might seem harmless, and even potentially helpful - you could help plenty of people get back on their feet! - but nobody had tried duplicating a living thing yet. While yes, we are just technically code, this universe still has *fundamental laws*. And duplicating living creatures I feel would definitely have to break one of them.
And what about the so-called Black Hole glitch? Theoretically, one could edit the code however they wanted. But I doubted many outside our inner circle would know what t do with it.
And finally, a glitch that could not be purposefully executed, but we all knew it would. The Kill Screen. Eventually, the supercomputer running our universe would overflow with information, and then... We all agreed not to talk about "then."
I hurriedly ran back to my dorm, pressed some buttons on my calculator, and realized something in horror.
The RAM was almost full. We had three days left until the Kill Screen.
I had fun writing this one, I hope you had fun reading it!
\- u/_EarthWyrm_ | 2019-12-12T09:33:51 | 2019-12-12T09:33:01 | 389 | 153 |
[WP] You glance at your watch 10:34 am, roughly 10 seconds later your plane explodes over the Pacific Ocean. Your eyes open as you jolt awake. The familiar hum of the planes engine remains. Checking your watch it is 9:35 | I woke up just as the credits started rolling. Perhaps it was the music that roused me. After a brief tussle with the cheap airline headphones, I managed to untangle the wire enough to pull the things off my head. Then I just sat watching the screen in a semi-conscious daze. I remember thinking to myself that lots of people with great names work in films. In the space of thirty seconds or so, several particularly cool ones scrolled down the screen. Dmitri Raspaskovski. Bob Badalato. Roberta Prophet III. Do crew members change their names specifically to stand out in the credits? Is it that those with cool names naturally gravitate to creative industries like the film business? Of course, it could just be that you don’t notice all the more common, less remarkable names that populate the credits along with the Prophets and Badalatos of this world. Who knows?
I include these idle musings simply to give you a flavour of my state of mind at the time. Groggy. Bored. Stuck in economy about thirty thousand feet above the Pacific Ocean, seemingly with plenty of time left to kill before arriving at LAX.
I’m a pretty tall guy, and if the legroom in cattle class is actually fit for anyone, I’m certainly not that person. Now I was awake, I realised my legs were on the verge of cramping up on me. I desperately needed to stretch them. Unfortunately, my online check-in had glitched out somehow and when I turned up at the airport, the aisle seat I thought I’d snagged had gone, along with the rest of its conveniently-positioned brethren. The flight was full. And that was how I’d ended up with a window seat, something I’d never have chosen myself.
The next two seats were occupied by a couple. To my immediate left sat a tiny woman. Couldn’t have been much more than five foot. When she’d sat down, she’d flashed me a lovely smile, full of warmth. We hadn’t chatted, though. I always feared getting stuck in conversation on a plane; you could hardly make your excuses and leave if you’d had enough of someone. Best not to start talking in the first place. The man next to the short woman was so large he almost needed two seats to himself; a good proportion of his bulk spilled on one side into the aisle, and on the other into his partner’s seat. They seemed an odd couple. The cynic in me whispered that perhaps he’d chosen her for the extra space she’d afford him in places like this. Would be handy at the cinema, too.
I felt bad making the guy stand up to let me past – it took visible effort, while his partner didn’t even have to leave her seat – but I just had to get up. There were a few people standing near the back of the plane, most of them of a height that suggested they were also escaping the ridiculously stingy legroom their seats had to offer. One of them, a seriously attractive brunette, made eye contact with me as I approached. I wasn’t entirely sure, but I thought she might have been smiling at me. Might just have been the natural shape of her mouth, though, I told myself. I didn’t smile back. Didn’t want to come across as sleazy. Didn’t want to take a risk.
To cut a long and boring story short, I stood and ignored my fellow passengers for almost an hour before heading back to my row. The big guy struggled to his feet again to let me in, and I wriggled past. Sinking back into the seat, I glanced at my watch. 10.34. Still ages to go yet. I picked up the in-flight magazine to see what film I could fall asleep to next, pressed the screen to pull up the menu, pressed again when the first touch didn’t register and-
-the plane blew up.
Imagine all the pain you’ve suffered in your life, all the physical pain anyway, add it all together and think what it would be like to experience all of it in one terrible half second. That’s how it felt. Fucking horrific.
I woke up just as the credits started rolling. The headphones were back on my head, tangled wire and all. What the hell? How was I still alive? I looked down at my wrist. 9.35. This was not happening. Couldn’t be.
I just sat there. Just sat in my seat for an hour. Didn’t know what else to do. Well, not an hour, technically. Fifty-nine minutes and twenty-two seconds. I was convinced it had all been some weird dream. Couldn’t be real. Wouldn’t happen again.
It did.
Again.
And again.
And again.
It hurt like hell every time.
After I blew up the second time, I tried searching for a bomb. That didn’t end well, as you can imagine. Yeah, I exploded in handcuffs. After that, I was much more subtle. The next five times, I made sure I was standing in different places around the plane when 10.34 rolled around in order to try and see where the explosion originated. It was no use; all I saw was a massive flash each time, wherever I positioned myself.
That was about a year ago. I mean, at least eight thousand explosions ago, possibly even nine. It’s hard to keep count. It’s been quite a year. I haven’t wasted any of it sleeping, for a start. Haven’t needed to. I’ve never once felt tired. I’m glad I slept through that film, now.
The woman sitting next to me is called Alice. She’s a vet. I’ve learned so much about animals from her, I reckon I could perform minor surgery on smaller animals myself now. Her partner – her husband, it turns out, they got married six months before the flight – is a lovely guy called Shaun. Works in a brewery, has lots of great stories. We’ve got roaring drunk together a fair few times now, and it’s always a pleasure. Amazing how much booze that man can put away in fifty-nine minutes. It’s nice to avoid the hangover afterward, too.
I know what you’re thinking. If all of this is true, how come I’ve been able to write it all down in such a short space of time? Well, I’ve had a lot of practice runs. I’ve got this committed to memory, right down to the very last word. Takes less than ten minutes to write it all down. Hopefully much less than that for you to read it through. And yes, I apologise for not returning your smile that first time. I know as love letters go, this isn’t one of the greatest, or even most persuasive. But this is who I am. Now, anyway. And, well, I was wondering if you’d do me the pleasure of spending the next forty or so minutes with me? We’ll have a blast together, I’m sure.
| I couldn't breathe. Was it just a dream? Had I imagined it all?
No, no. It felt real. It *was* real. I'm certain of that.
I looked around me. Hundreds of people. Was I the only that felt it? I checked my watch again, 9:36. I had just under an hour to stop this. To fix this.
*Where had the explosion come from?*
I could still feel it. My skin alight; obliteration. But what was the source? Was it attached to someone? Or the plane? I looked around for anyone who looked Islamic, then immediately felt guilty.
I had to tell the pilot. Tell him to land the plane, to get everyone out. They'd call me crazy, but I didn't have a choice.
I stood up, making a beeline for the cockpit. A flight attendant tried to stop me, to ask me what was wrong, but I moved her aside. I got to the cockpit and slammed on the door.
A man tackled me to the floor, locking my arms behind me. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?" He said, taking out his handcuffs. I could see passengers craning over each other to try to see what was happening.
"*There's a bomb on the plane*" I whispered frantically. He stared at me, mouth agape. A passenger screamed, and suddenly the entire plane broke out into chaos.
"*What??*" He whispered back, dragging me to the privacy of the flight attendant's room. He removed a bit of the pressure on my arms.
I stared him in his eyes. "At 10:35am, a bomb will explode and destroy this entire plane. I know, because it's already happened."
He stared at me. He called a flight attendant over. "Ma'am, has this man been drinking?" She shook her head, looking terrified. He sent her away, instructing her to calm down the passengers.
"Son, I want to believe you. I really do. But you're sounding fucking crazy." He took out his handcuffs. I tried to wriggle free.
"Please, just, just trust me. Look for anyone suspicious. Land the plane. Get everyone out. You can arrest me if I'm wrong - hell, arrest me if I'm right. But please, for the love of God, land this plane."
He looked at me, and I could see he was being sincere. "Kid, listen. We can't land the plane - we're in the middle of the Pacific. If we do, either that imaginary bomb of yours takes us out, or the ocean swallows us. I'm sorry, but I just can't believe you."
I stared at him. I knew he was right. But there had to be *a way*. There had to be *something* they could do. I just needed time to think - and time was running out.
The cop stood up. "I'm going to leave you here, and take a look around. I need to keep everyone calm, so just please work with me here. Please."
He left the room. I wanted to scream, to shout, but I knew he was right. I just had to trust him.
He came back, with just a few minutes to spare. He looked at me with pained eyes.
"Son, I couldn't find anything. It was just a bad dream." He said, sitting down next to me. "But, we're just going to wait it out together, alright? Not long left now."
It was strangely comforting having him around. Maybe it was just a bad dream. Maybe I had imagined it all. With all my heart, I hoped that was true.
I looked at the time. Just a minute left. Nothing they could do now regardless. He put his hand on my shoulder.
We watched the seconds count down together.
5, 4, 3...
Then, silence.
He turned towards me, and smiled.
"See, kiddo? Nothing to worr-"
The flames engulfed us all.
*****
I woke up, breathing hard. The explosion...
I checked my watch. 9:35am.
*There had to be something we could do.* | 2016-09-27T07:18:28 | 2016-09-27T06:31:32 | 31 | 21 |
[WP] 5 People are trying to lift a very heavy piece of furniture. Twist: They all want to be the person who only acts like they are lifting, and none of them are willing to admit this to one another. | Abe, Carl, and Brock stood in the sun, shielding their eyes as they looked down at the table on the ground. In the last 2 hours, they hadn't moved it an inch. It stood entire yards away from the door to their apartment and at this rate, it would take all night.
"Wow the table is heavy," Brock said, stretching his arms. "I've almost pulled a muscle trying to lift it."
His two friends nodded back. After all, how else could it be that three grown men couldn't lift a coffee table?
"Yeah," Carl chimed in. "I think I cracked something in my back from straining so hard."
Abe nodded in reply. "Well, this table isn't gonna lift itself. Shall we?"
The three friends cracked their knuckles, rolled their shoulders, and took their place around the table. "On three," Abe said. "One... Two..."
Brock grunted, his entire body trembling. Carl hissed out rapid breaths, his face turning red. Abe screamed.
"Holy hell," Abe said and let go, panting for breath.
"Yeah, what the hell is this table made of?" Brock asked, "I mean, I'm here lifting with all I got."
"Me too." Came the round of agreement.
Brock eyed Abe. The last time they had tried lifting the table, Abe had let loose a piercing shriek. He didn't buy it. "Abe," he said, "maybe you should try lifting with your back and get a better grip on the wood."
Abe returned him a furrowed brow. "Are you saying I'm not doing my part?"
"I'm just saying that I feel the table going up on my side, but it's dragging on yours."
"Really, I was thinking something similar."
The two stared each other down.
Abe secretly cursed himself for screeching, it hadn't been the sound he was going for, but it was the sound that came out. All there was to do now was to double down. Plus, he knew for a fact that one of the others weren't doing their part. This was a 2 man job so even if he didn't lift, they should be able to handle it. He wondered who the other slacker was. It was probably Brock, that lazy bastard.
"Guys," Carl said, holding his hands. "Look, if we all just do our part, this should be easy. On three. One... Two..."
More grunts erupted from the three friends. Their faces turned purple. Their bodies trembled.
Suddenly, Carl yelped and fell onto the ground, arching his back as his body hit the floor. "I strained so hard I threw my back!" he screamed.
Brock stared. He threw himself onto the floor by Carl. "My arms!" he screamed.
Abe suddenly understood. His mind raced for an injury to fake, but Carl and Brock had already taken the two obvious ones. With a deep breath, he clutched his chest and crumpled to the floor. "Call 911," he said through gritted teeth. "I'm having a heart attack!"
"I would but my arms don't work!" Brock responded. "I think they broke."
"I'm in too much pain to even hear you," Carl said. "I think there's something wrong with my nerves."
"Guys, I'm dying!"
"I'm dying too," Carl said. "I can't even feel my legs anymore. I think my entire spine broke in two."
"My arms are turning blue," Brock shouted. "I'm bleeding internally! I don't think I'll make it."
"My heart attack!" Abe shrieked. "Its triggering cancer throughout my body!"
---
Melanie peeked through her blinds at three young adults writhing in the grass next to a coffee table she could move herself. They screamed and moaned.
She sighed and closed her blinds. "Fucking college kids."
---
/r/jraywang for more stories!
| "Alright, one.. two.. three!"
Nothing happened.
"Sorry, were we supposed to do a one-two-lift or a one-two three-lift?", Aaron asked.
"Why are you even asking?! You didn't do either!", Brad answered, "Seriously we need to lift this monstrosity together! Alright? One-Two-Lift, on my count! One.. Two.. what the hell Clark?!"
"Oh, sorry, my shoe suddenly opened up. It's dangerous lifting things with open shoes."
"As if! You are just too lazy to do the work!", Dave exclaimed.
"Well screw you too Dave, we would have finished this hours ago if you didn't have to visit the toilet every five minutes!"
"Sorry for being sick, jerk! Be happy I am even trying to help, instead of spacing out like Eric over there."
"Sorry what?", Eric asked, "Should I have started lifting right now?"
"Everyone shut up! We are doing this! One... Two... *Why the hell is no one even touching it?!*"
"One two?"
"Sorry, my shoe again."
"I think I am going to be sick.."
"Hm? Sorry, what? Hey, how about some Pizza?"
"..Alright let's get pizza, but we move this sucker right afterwards."
And with a cheer, everyone left.
| 2017-05-11T15:32:05 | 2017-05-11T11:33:23 | 553 | 373 |
[WP] You're an arctic biologist who spends 5 months at a time away from all society. At the end of a stint your bush pilot never shows. After a 3 day journey to the nearest town you make a shocking discovery. You're more than likely the last person alive. | 10-3-2024
*Hi, honey, I know it’s only been a couple days, but I want to tell you how things are going.*
*The penguins are amazing. The colony is responding so well to the treatment. It’s amazing, watching life unfold just how we predicted in our models. As a scientist, you’re always amazed when your theories can come to life. I wish you could see this for yourselves. I have a lot of footage I can’t wait to show you, of course, but I wish you were here in person.*
*That’s all for now. Love you.*
\-
11-12-2024
*Life continues on, day by day. The routine of it is getting to me. But it’s what I signed up for, so I guess I can’t complain.*
*Still, I miss you so much. I think I finally understand what you were trying to tell me. All those fights we had, when you would tell me I can’t just have a wife, kids, a family in theory, that I had to be there, I think I finally understand. It hurts so much to think of you, the theoretical you, maybe eating dinner together, going out for bowling, and wonder what’s true.*
*If all goes well, maybe I can come home early. And then let’s have a big, long talk about where things go from here. I’m ready to listen to you, and really listen this time.*
*-*
12-7-2024
*I haven’t received any response from you. Can you just let me know how things are going? I’m not worried…I just miss you.*
*They tell me a storm is coming in next week, so I might not get your response for a couple weeks – maybe a month. But please, just let me know how things are going. Seeing your faces, even if it’s in a blurry video that the system can’t fully convey to me – it’s what’s keeping me going.*
*I love you, and am waiting with excitement to hear back.*
*-*
1-13-2025
*Ramirez went out last week, and she hasn’t returned yet. The storm was only supposed to last until the new year, but it rages on and on.*
*The penguins have gone. Maybe they knew something I didn’t. Maybe they know something I don’t.*
*I haven’t allowed fear to enter – well, of course it’s entered, but my levees are holding it back. I’ve decided to journey to the nearest station – five miles away through a torrential blizzard.*
*I will leave tomorrow morning with your smiles in my heart.*
\-
2-14-2025
*The station is empty. Parts of the roof have been ripped off. By who or what, I cannot tell.*
*My radar has also broken, and my rations are running dangerously low…*
*Do you remember how we went to see Avengers with the kids a few months before I left for Alaska? We were almost more excited than them, but we hid it from them. Parents aren’t supposed to be more excited, you said.*
*I remember that scene with Tony, at the beginning, when he makes that message for Pepper in case he doesn’t make it. I remembered thinking how unbearably sad that was, knowing it’s most likely the end, knowing that any hope, any flare you shoot off into the distance will be a mere flash before total darkness.*
*I also remember thinking that could never happen to me. But now, here I am, dangerously dehydrated, with no feeling in my left foot.*
*And to be honest, I have almost no hope in my heart that you will see this. I’m a scientist, after all, not a dreamer. But I will keep your smiles in my heart, and…*
*Know that when I drift off, I will dream about you. It’s always you.*
\-
[r/penguin347](https://reddit.com/r/penguin347) | My first thought was one of freedom, of all encompassing relief. I would never need to comply with the horrid rules of society that had gotten me reassigned to the artic wasteland. Of course, as a biologist that "wasteland" was full of undiscovered secrets vital to mankinds scientific growth. That was when I had my second thought, no one else would ever learn about my discovery, an odd strain of fungus, fully developed under the glass like ice capable of, at least according to a cursory glance at it's genetic makeup, synthesizing with a host and immunizing it to the frost and several ancient diseases. Deborah, I had named it Deborah, after my daughter. **Oh no, oh s%$&**, I missed her birthday. Oh God she's gone. I rushed to her hut but it was toppled over and covered in a thick layer of powdery snow. Hot tears pierced into the white fluff as I dug up my daughter, her head was crushed and her eyes were faded but I could hear something. Faint breathing. It was then that I noticed the familiar tint of blue, Deborah. I chuckled at the idea as I scooped my fungus sustained daughter from the icy clutches of death. What had happened to humanity? It didnt matter so long as my daughter survived. | 2019-08-14T20:58:35 | 2019-08-14T20:30:48 | 183 | 45 |
[WP] All of the "#1 Dad" mugs in the world change to show the actual ranking of Dads suddenly. | > #489,231,337
Robert Johnson wasn't a very good dad. He'd drink, and he'd smoke, and when he was tired he would grumble at his kids. He didn't play catch. He didn't play video games. He mostly sat around and got fat after working at the mill. His wife, Leslie, would ask him to mow the lawn and he'd yell at her. His kids would run up the stairs while playing and he'd yell at them. At work, he'd grumble and yell at the new guy more than most. He was just an unpleasant person.
His mug's number changing didn't really help matters. He always knew it was bullshit, but it never really dawned on him how low he ranked. "Christ almighty" he thought, there's only 320 million people in this fucking country.
So the morning after it changed he was brushing his teeth, and staring back at him was a balding, dumpy, unshaved, slobby man in a stained a-shirt.
"When the fuck did I grow so much back hair?"
The hot water of the shower was a poor comfort. As usual, the family was still asleep when he left the house. He resolved to fix things.
So that afternoon he got off work. He had been grumpy but he wasn't a complete waste. He did his job. So he got off and fixed himself up to get some gifts. He went to Toys R Us and bought a few lego sets for his son and some Barbie Dolls for his daughter. He went to the Florist and bought some flowers for his wife. He even went to the barber and got his hair cut into something respectable.
Then he got home early. He tried to greet his wife with a kiss and flowers when she got home, but she laughed. His son took the lego sets and muttered "thanks dad" before dashing upstairs. His daughter glared at him over the Barbie Doll and asked why she didn't get legos too.
Sighing, he sat back down in his chair to watch TV.
A few weeks went by. He asked his son to play catch.
"No thanks dad, I'm going over to Tommy's house."
He asked his daughter if she wanted to go for a walk.
"No thanks dad, I'm going over to Cassie's place."
He asked his wife if she wanted to get dinner.
"What are you, stupid? I have to pick Bobby up from Tommy's house and Jeannie up from Cassie's?"
Sighing, he sat back down in his chair to watch TV.
The next morning he looked at the mug. That same, long number wrapped around the outside. Saturday.
He asked his wife if he could help her. He couldn't. He asked his son and daughter to play, they wouldn't. So he sat back down in his chair to watch TV.
Months went by. He bought gift after gift, flowers, toys, you name it. He asked his wife out to dinner, he bought his daughter a puppy, he played catch with his son... or at least he tried to. His daughter didn't want a puppy. His son didn't want to play catch. His wife wasn't interested in him.
So each night he sighed, then sat back down in his chair to watch TV.
Finally, it was Christmas Eve. He lay awake, worrying about the latest round of gifts he had bought, when suddenly he heard a thunk on the roof.
"What the fuck?"
The thunk was followed by a few others, resolving into footsteps. A muffled crash was heard downstairs.
"Could it be?"
He got up, bewildered, and made his way downstairs. There, in the kitchen, were two masked figures. They all stood stunned for a second, before Robert bellowed and charged in.
He wasn't sure how it happened, but he had a kitchen knife in his hand. One was on the ground bleeding, the other was fighting. They struggled. Robert got cut, deep, in his neck, but he fought on. He was grabbing an ankle, struggling around the floor. The table was knocked over. Chaos. His vision was dark, but in the dim light he saw something; the mug.
He grabbed it, slamming it into the assailant's face until it broke.
He lay there on the floor, bleeding in the dark. The lights turned on and his wife screamed.
A thin piece of shattered porcelain lay directly in his view. As his eyes darkened and the world grew bleary he saw it change from #4892 to #489 to #48 to #4 to #1. | It was a rough morning this particular day. Having some beers at the local pub didn't help calm the waves of frustration and tension I had to overcome the last couple years. The patronage was meager at best, and the draft Guinness left way too much to be imagination. I had seen families come and go, but never knew what had happened the previous day. It was called "hello fathers day" and many didn't agree with it. I myself wasn't prepared for the value of 5,627,490. What kind of dad am I to have "earned" such a distinct punch to the gut? Was I really that bad of a father?
The barkeep consoled my sorrow with a fresh mug still foaming over as they used the wooden stick to cut to top off.
He was unusually joyful today after so many father's had learned they too were in the 5M ranks in the local area. The news papers had photos of mugs smashed on the streets as if to protest the unusual events insignificance, whilst showing the world their arrogance and ignorance to the truth.
I looked up from my freshly tasted draft and asked the barkeep why he was in such a good mood?
He replied: You see that hook above the bar where all the other mugs are?
I nodded in acknowledgement.
That's my father's mug!
So? I replied. What's so special about your father?
The barkeep laughed in bewilder of my ignorance to the fact I'd never really gotten to know him, or his family.
Go and get it down from there!
Fine, I must know why you're in such a good mood!
I go to reach for the mug, and within an instant of turning it around the mug displayed the number 1.
I was shocked to see it said "1". This must be a joke barkeep!
No, not at all! He replied.
Who's you're father?
The barkeep flexed his muscles and cried out "John Fucking Zoidberg!"
| 2017-06-11T09:22:28 | 2017-06-11T08:40:30 | 228 | 31 |
[WP] In the middle of a fight with a known villain, you, the hero are stopped by a young child. “If you fight the bad guy, and the bad guy fights you, and you both break everything as you go, what makes you think you’re any better than him?” Behind the child, you see the villain silently fist pump. | You don't answer. Instead, you spring for Colossus while he's gloating. He wasn't expecting it; probably expected you to start bursting into tears, judging from that smug little fist-pump. People with no morals and thin egos always seem surprised when those with the former and without the latter don't immediately collapse to histrionics as soon as someone dares question them or their ideals.
You can probably picture the look on the child's face at being ignored, and you don't feel great, but that doesn't matter right now. Nothing matters for now except stopping Colossus. Philosophical debates can wait.
Colossus struggles, but he's at the disadvantage now. You punch him into the ground, wincing a little as it cracks upon contact with the energon bars on his back; that'll take some fixing, and it's probably not going to help you in the minds of those who witnessed this little exchange. But it cracked the energon bars as well, and with each hit, he gets a little weaker. A few more blows, and he's stunned enough to give you time to grab a streetlight and wrap it around him tight. He struggles a bit, but he's weakened enough that he can't break free. He's not going anywhere.
"Didn't answer the question, I see," he croaks, a weak little sneer on his face. "Some heroine you are."
You ignore him. He's not worth it.
Instead, you turn back to someone who is. The child is standing there, staring at you, eyes wide. Clear little tear tracks cut through the dust on her face. Behind her, some of the locals of this neighborhood are warily beginning to clamber out of shelter now that the immediate peril is over. Inspecting the damage, some beginning to clear up. Looking at you. Some grateful. Some wary. Some angry.
"I'm sorry about that," you say to the little girl, crouching down in front of her. In the background, sirens get closer, but for now you make sure she knows she has your full attention. "You asked me a question?"
She looks you in the eyes. She's a brave one, this one, brave and bold. She'll grow up to be a hell of a woman some day unless you miss your guess.
"What makes you better than him?" She asks, only a little quaver in her voice. She can't be more than six or seven. "You both break things."
You give it a moment's thought. It's an easy one to answer, frankly, but she deserves that consideration.
"Lots of things, to be honest," you reply. "But the simplest is this. He breaks things and hurts people because he enjoys it. If you'd asked him that question, he would have laughed at you. He doesn't feel bad about what he's done. But if I break things when I'm fighting him, it's because there's no other way to stop him. And after I break something, I try and fix it if I can. Because I feel bad if I don't."
"But what if you can't fix it?"
"Then I try and find another way of making up for it. And if I can't do that, I try and remember what I did so that I can try and do better next time."
You can't quite tell if she fully understands or not, but there's a shout from your left -- "Captain Athena!" -- and you turn to see a firefighter running up towards you. Behind him, you can see officers of the police department's Powered Containment Unit sealing Colossus into a containment chamber. He meets your eyes as they do, and leers.
What of it. He's nothing, really. Just a cruel, pathetic little man who tries to pull others down to compensate for his own weaknesses. Not worth any more of your attention.
"We've got people trapped in a building down the street," The firefighter says.
You turn back to the girl. "I'm sorry. I must go." Then you turn and speed into the direction that the firefighter is pointing in.
Time to fix things. | Devastator pumped his fist in the air with silent triumph.
I had to fight the urge to not roll my eyes.
I looked down at the child. He was covered head-to-toe in soot and had a nasty-looking bruise on his forehead. He looked expectantly into my eyes for an answer. The crowd around us had frozen in anticipation.
I shrugged. "I'm not."
The child's eyes widened. I continued, fashioning a vortex in my hands.
"But at least I know that I'm not. Why don't you ask my friend what he was planning to do?"
The child turned... and gasped as he saw Devastator's energy lance flying in an arc towards him. My vortex reached him first- always was quicker on the draw- and teleported him to the asphalt. The crowd gasped and screamed in horror.
The lance embedded itself in my shoulder, but I've had worse. I grunted from the pain but gave an amused look towards my rival.
"Come on, Al! I think you've just missed out on a sidekick!"
Al laughed, spun around, and zoomed off into the distance. I pulled the lance out of my side - got to make a note to restock on painkillers- and let myself descend to the cheering crowd.
I saw the child being tended to by a paramedic. He looked at me in shock and then twisted his face into a complex outpouring of emotion. I gave him a quick nod and turned to face the incoming horde of reporters.
*Joy.* | 2021-04-18T08:29:08 | 2021-04-18T06:53:33 | 38 | 20 |
[WP] Everyone is born with the ability to "see" beyond themselves, and the longer you remain still, the further you can see. After decades of remaining still, you can see the furthest of anyone in the world. One day, you see something that makes you stand and start walking. | It started when I lost my job.
I had nothing.
My parents had decided a young child didn't fit their lifestyle and were mostly absent from my life. I acted out. I ran with the wrong group. I never learned how to take responsibilities for my own actions and I raged against my parents every moment I had, blaming them for my own faults.
My girlfriend left me when she grew up and realized I never would. Two weeks after my 28th birthday, I was escorted from my job by security. I sat at the bus stop and life passed me be. LIFE. People walking and laughing and joking and crying and yelling and just living.
Night had long fallen and I still sat on the cold bench. To my right, an old pamphlet rippled in the cold wind. A streetlamp flickered above and I read the paper for the hundredth time.
Seeking subjects for long term Sight reading.
The address was a local hospital.
Fuck it.
I went the next morning. The program was still running and they accepted me easily enough. I would sit unmoving, with an IV feeding me what I needed. There was a minimum of a month required. I told them I'd stay longer and they laughed. Their longest subject was three months.
I sat. As I had at the bus stop. Life continued around me. When I reached the three month mark, I was asked how long I'd stay and I said nothing. I slept and, when awake, I ***looked***.
After 5 months, I could see the next day's lottery numbers. That's how it worked. The longer you sat, the further you saw. Further into the future. But you couldn't move. I lied when they asked what I saw. I lied about the numbers. I could get up, take my pay and buy the tickets but I saw three people winning. I saw the echoes of their ghosts and knew one would use the money for their child's cancer and another to start a charity to help those killed in drunk driving accidents, as their husband had been.
What would I do with that money? What could I do? Buy a house? A nice car? Waste my life away as I had?
And so I sat. Sometimes I lied, sometimes I told the truth, bundling it out in safe packets.
After a year, I was the longest seer ever. After three, I began to get petitions for information. From government agencies and rich people. I saw some of their futures and was horrified by most. Horrified by the lives they lived and what it took to get there. I did my best to guide the river of time around the stones they threw to divert the path of mankind in their favor.
A decade passed and I no longer noticed who cared for me. They began to revere me. And fear me.
More years. Time lost meaning and I sat rooted in horrid fascination of the events unfolding in time. I saw the subtle influences from minor players and major and the effects they had. Some of those were due to the lies I told.
War was coming, pushed by the forces in the shadows.
I didn't hear the young girl beside me ask why I was crying. I closed my eyes and still saw the mushroom clouds blooming.
I opened my mouth to answer but the vision changed. I saw a baby, crying in a war torn city. A newspaper fluttered by in my vision and I saw the date - ten years from now with strange cursive text written in columns. A small, brown skinned infant girl with a lock of black hair bawled in the night.
She.
She was a path forward. I saw the faint, trembling echoes of it and I ***moved***. Attendants around me gasped and my vision wavered.
"No!" I cried out. "Just a little more! Please!"
The vision was fading. I moved and, thus, broke the flow of time. It was fading, centered on the girl. Only. Only now I saw a cloaked figure moving, walking toward her. Leaning over to pick her up. The babe whimpered and the figure turned and I saw myself in the weathered, bearded face.
Ten years.
I moved, so slowly, and unhooked myself. The room had changed, I think. I tried to stand but my muscles wouldn't hold. I waited a moment and tried again. People spoke around me, asking what I saw but I closed my mouth in a grim line.
I moved and my legs lid out before me.
I had no idea how long it would take before I could walk. I had no idea how far I would go. I had spent my life looking and listening and lying and the entire debt of that fell heavily on my shoulders.
If I didn't move, we all died. If I couldn't find her, we all died.
"One step," I rasped, willing my legs to move. My toes twitched and I groaned. "One step."
I turned to the young woman beside me and I didn't recognize her or anyone else.
"Help. Me." I begged. "I have to go. I have to."
They lifted me without a word and the room was silent. I held fast to the wall as arms held me carefully. My legs trembled. My knees creaked. But I took a step.
Despite the pain, I took that step.
"I'm coming," I whispered to the girl in my vision. The girl that wasn't even born yet. I had so much to tell her. So much to teach her. So much debt to repay. | The surrounding woods transformed into the hustle and bustle of a marketplace. Regardless, the man sat silent, ever presently watching the cosmos grow. Twenty-five years since he first sat. Twenty-five years of pure stillness, a self-inflicted vegetation to understand the universe. Sustained through nature and will, the man sat.
*Bump*. A small child, toddling past his boundaries, jarringly crashed into the statuesque silhouette of a man. No matter, his will was iron. He sat undisturbed, nearly unaware of the surrounding commotion.
"Timmy." A stern voice beckoned, "Stop dawdling, we don't want to be late to see Grandpa Rick."
Whimpering, the boy wandered back to the man. "Daddy, I don't wanna see Granpa." He said, plaintively glancing at his father's strong arms.
"Come on champ, I know you're tired. But we promised we'd go today, and we can't cancel again." His dad said. "How about this, after we visit Grandpa Rick why don't I read you *Goodnight Moon*? It's your favorite."
Resolved to the trip, Timmy clutched his dad's hand tightly. With a hesitant glance back at the man, father and son walked away, arms swinging.
The man simply sat, as he had for so long. This episode was mundane, people and stories came and went. To be honest, he could barely comprehend his earthly origins anymore, with his eyes in the heavens. After a moment's time, he had already forgotten the little boy's name.
"Come on Timmy, it's playtime!" Granpa Rick said, yanking tired little Timmy by the hand. Together the pair walked into the sleeping marketplace under the full moon. "You know, I've always loved the nights. So fun to be yourself, without judging eyes everywhere. With a light chuckle, Rick said "Except for this guy's eyes, I guess. If he even counts as human anymore."
A gleam in his eye, Rick turned to poor little Timmy. "Now boy. Let's get down to business." With a shudder, Timmy clutched at the man's petrified arms, desperate for a savior. "Timmy, we don't have all day!" Rick smiled, brandishing his trademark pocketknife. "You know, no one will ever love you like I do. I'll make sure of that."
As Rick moved towards crying little Timmy, the man grimaced. He had stared so long, he had found God. In turn, God had found him. A heavenly embrace from the savior, blissful acceptance filling his every moment. Gone. With a jolt, the statue rose to his feet. Unaware, Rick continued his sadistic entertainment. Twenty-five years of rest. Twenty-five years of motion preserved for a single blow. Rick fell. For the third time, little Timmy clutched at the statue of a man, sobbing.
------
First writing prompt complete! Let's see how it goes. I've been lurking here for months, and decided to try my hand, inspired by some of the writers here. Criticism welcome, just trying to improve.
Thanks reddit! | 2017-03-03T11:47:23 | 2017-03-03T08:28:54 | 373 | 213 |
[WP] FTL travel is actually possible. However, when humanity sends out our first FTL spacecraft, we discover the terrifying reason why nothing, not even light, dares go past that cosmic speed limit. | “There’s a reason why you never use faster than light travel.” The creature calling itself Kcbzrzx says to me in a voice that’s equal parts nails on a chalkboard and nails on a wet chunk of glass.
“And why is that?” I put my hands on my side and tap my foot impatiently. If Kcbzrzx doesn’t understand the universal signal of ‘I’m in a hurry’ then that’s his problem. You don’t travel faster than the speed of light because you have all the time in the world.
“Those who travel faster than the speed of light have the potential to open up a dimensional rift.” The condescension from Kcbzrzx is so heavy that I’m more impressed than offended. From what we know of the universe, humans are the only species to have invented that particular feeling. To have an alien put on a such a display of superiority is almost worth getting pulled over.
“Please, Kcbzrzx. This isn’t some episode of Stargate. We know what we’re doing, we’ve been travelling for years at ‘3L’.” I wave a dismissive hand at him like I would a child claiming it’s bad luck to break a mirror, or the laws of physics.
Kcbzrzx grumbles something under his… well, not breath as he doesn’t seem to breathe. But he does grumble something, and rest assured it’s a grumble from under somwhere, if not breath. “Fine,” He says. “The real reason. By travelling faster than the speed of light, you are essentially declaring a race. A race that has implications that you have no understanding of.”
*Oh this guy’s good.* For a second I almost believe him. Humoring him, I ask, “A race with who?”
Kcbzrzx raises several eyebrows. “Not who. What.” He points a finger outside of the ship, past the glass windows. “See, it’s already starting.”
Chuckling, I walk over to the window and peer out. Trailing the ship I see thousands of jagged lines of light. *Just some starlight*, I think. *That’s all that is. Funny, it should show up now, five years into our voyage.*
“So what?” I say.
Not only do alien races have translators for speech, but many have them for facial and body language. A smile doesn’t mean the same thing in Flargon as it does in Shmloogar as it does in Human. The look Kcbzrzx gives me needs no translation. It’s a look I’ve gotten from each of my four ex-wives. It’s the look I got when I once tried returning a rental car with half of the hood missing. From Kcbzrzx, it’s like hearing swear words in a foreign language; you don’t know exactly what they’re saying, but you get the gist.
“You meddle with things far outside your comprehension, endanger the entire universe, and your reaction is: ‘So what?’” Kcbzrzx looks as if he’s about to explode. This isn’t a figure of speech, some alien races physically blow up when pushed to a certain limit.
I take a step back.
“It’s just some distorted starlight. What’s the big deal, K?” I hope giving him a nickname will soften our dialogue, or at least throw him off his feet.
Kcbzrzx shakes his head. Which, I haven’t mentioned this yet, it’s his entire body. Well most of his body is his head. It didn’t seem like an important detail at first, but then he started shaking… so, there you go. His head is his body, and he’s shaking it at me.
“It’s not distorted starlight, human. It is light. All light. By going faster than light, you have challenged it to a race.”
I look back out the window. The trailing lights seem to have gotten closer. *Could this guy be right? Did we really just challenge a stinking bunch of photons into some kind of trillionK?*
“What happens if we lose?” I ask.
Kcbzrzx glares at me, his eyes narrowing. “No more light… ever.”
 
----------
 
6,476 / 50,000 Words of NaNoWriMo short story goal. | The day had arrived.
On a space station high above the earth, thousands stood silent, while millions watched at home as humanity's first Faster Than Light capable spacecraft was about to depart on its maiden voyage.
The technology was perfected over decades, with countless scientists working long hours for minimum pay for a passion that they may or may not regret later in life.
The spacecraft, dubbed Speedy McSpeedFace, was perched on a high platform, with the audience below protected by a powerful force field. The ship was unmanned, it being only an experimental vessel, but filled to the brim with technology that Star Wars could only dream of.
The announcer waited for the signal to begin the countdown.
"Ladies and gentlemen, the moment you've all been waiting for! The world's first Faster Than Light ship is about to launch! I have been given permission to begin the countdown! In five, four, three, two, one!"
The ship started its engines, at first slowly, then at maximum throttle.
The ensuing explosion ripped the space station, the force field, and the earth apart, disintegrating it into pure plasma that collided with the other planets at speeds faster than light. The other planets were completely vaporized, turning into swirling vortexes of pure annihilation that caused everything they touched to cease to exist.
As the ship traveled through the universe, everything it touched was completely destroyed, leaving behind nothing but an infinitely hot space that cause disruptions in space and time. Stars that had been born in the dawn of time found themselves going supernova in the blink of an eye, black holes were torn apart by their own gravity, nebulae exploding with the force of the Big Bang.
The observable universe was left a desolate wasteland.
The ship left the boundaries of the known universe and headed into the unknown, where a race of aliens known as ponies found it and were subsequently destroyed. | 2018-11-04T06:08:13 | 2018-11-04T05:34:15 | 28 | 19 |
[WP] While your colleagues are fixated on magical items and artifacts, you’ve been quietly collecting all the deeds of ownership for the ruins and dungeons you clear. | ”It’s all really quite simple.” You noted as you sipped the exquisite fey tea. “I’m just a landlord like any other. I told you this when we set off I think.”
“That doesn’t explain anything!” Jasper exclaimed, instinctively striking a heroic pose as befits a hero of his caliber. “When we met you all you owned was a few run down houses, you said you had bought your equipment with your last few hundred pieces of gold.”
“It’s true, those houses didn’t make me much money that’s why I had to go adventuring. Remember how distraught I was when I lost that first crossbow to that Minotaur? I really didn’t think I would have enough money for a replacement but you all came through for me and lent me that money.” You smiled as you happily reminisced. “That’s why I’m paying you back so generously now that I can.”
“Pardon me Houseworth, but that’s not the issue our friend Jasper here is raising.” The elderly gnome croaked through his thick beard. “What puzzles him, and I for that matter, is how in the name of the all-knowing one you came to sit upon an old golden throne drinking Moonlight tears in a mansion of quite some renown. My memory might be getting spotty but I do not recall you partaking in any of the treasures we found.”
“Oh! Oh I’m terribly sorry I guess I thought it was obvious.” You quickly put the tea down and with a wave of your hand called over one of fairies to clear it away. “We cleared ruins and dungeons for almost 6 months together, and in according with the contracts we signed I gave up my share of the reward in exchange for the deed to these locations. So as I said: I am a landlord. It just so happens that I am a landlord of some prime real-estate.”
“I don’t understand, who would want to live in cave?” Arch’s massive hand scratched his beard and you could almost hear his gears grinding away in his head. “Or broken tower, or broken castle, or broken grave, most places were broken.”
“Oh a lot of people.” You replied excitedly. “And thanks to Joanna’s ability to contact other planes I was able to reach these potential tenants. A half overgrown castle is perfect for a minor fey lord’s vacation home. I dilapidated tomb? Just the thing for a cult needing a forgotten location to bury their holy man without anyone raising questions. A half crumbled tower, well it’s the fix-me-up offer any up and coming antisocial wizard would die for.”
“So while we were risking our lives to cleanse these locations and save lives you were lining your pockets? And you helped him do it?” Jasper asked pointing an accusatory finger at the druid Joanna.
“Don’t look at me like that Jasper, I was just helping a friend, and he never even took any of the money, all I did was help him out a little when trying to talk with some fairies.” Joanna said uncomfortably, she never had liked being put on the spot.
“Because of that those dungeons are all infested again!” Jasper exclaimed in uncharacteristic annoyance at one of his own companions.
“Now now, don’t put it like that.” You said furrowing your brow. “I helped clear those dungeons myself, I wouldn’t let them get infected as you say. I wrote up individualized and watertight contracts for each one of my tenants. There are very strict rules in place about harming or frightening the local communities, I run a legitimate business here old friend. If any one of them breaks their contracts they are immediately evicted.”
“And how would you evict a fey lord that doesn’t want to leave?” Jasper asked incredulously.
“Well.” You smirked a bit as you leaned back in your comfortable chair. “You wouldn’t believe what a dragon will do to avoid paying rent.” | "What do you mean you're sitting this one out? It'll be our biggest haul yet!"
"I have land I need to develop, Brash. You guys run this one without me."
"Think of all the stuff we're going to find though!"
"I already have everything I need, Brash."
"Where did all this land come from anyways? Did some mysterious relative die and leave their stuff to you?"
"It's all the dungeons we've been clearing. I bought the deeds for them after we finished each one, and worked out a deal with the residents that respawned."
"You're negotiating with monsters?!"
"Hey, they want to stay in those dungeons, and I gave them clearance to stay without being hunted down if they'll work for me."
"You can't trust them! They're monsters!"
\*sigh\* "They're still sentient, and they recognize a good deal when they see it. Besides, since I own the contracts for the land, I can force them to leave at will, and none of them want that. This way, everyone wins."
"This is a horrible plan!"
"We'll see. Come find me after you finish this quest. See how it works out yourself." | 2019-09-13T09:33:04 | 2019-09-13T08:49:54 | 326 | 32 |
[WP] Your father leaves the house to buy milk, 50 years later he comes back with milk in hand and hasn't aged a bit. | Received Messages from Dad.
Thursday 16th Nov 2017 4:04pm
We've run out of milk, I've gone to get some more from the shop. Love Dad.
Thursday 16th Nov 2017 4:30pm
The shop was sold out of milk, I'm trying the other store. Love Dad.
Thursday 16th Nov 2017 5:02pm
The other shop was sold out too, the guy told me they didn't get a delivery this morning. I'm going to head to the deliver centre now. I need my god damn coffee. Say hi to mom for me. Love Dad.
Thursday 16th Nov 2017 7:23pm
The delivery centre was closed. I don't get it. These places run 24/7. I'll wait here until I see someone.
Thursday 16th Nov 2017 9:01pm
Still no one. This is nuts. I'm going to sleep in my car. Tell your mom. Love Dad.
Friday 17th Nov 2017 9:19am
Finally spoke to the manager. He said that the dairy shipment is a week late. Without any milk he had to close the place down until monday. He only came in to check for the truck. He wouldn't tell me anything else, I'm suspicious. I'm going to go to the dairy, it's not too far. Love Dad.
Friday 17th Nov 2017 1:43pm
I'm at the dairy, it's also shut. The manager there said that there's an industrial dispute with the farmers going on. When I demanded milk he laughed at me and said I'd have to talk to the farmers. Damn him. I'm off to the closest dairy farm. Love Dad.
Friday 17th Nov 2017 10:34pm
I'm half way there. It's taking a lot longer due to various interstate closures. Thankfully Bessy can go overland quite nicely. Is there anything on the news about this? Let me know. Love Dad.
Saturday 18th Nov 2017 4:56am
I could barely sleep. The jets flying over head towards the lights in the sky kept waking me up. I should be at the closet farm soon. Love Dad.
Saturday 18th Nov 2017 9:32am
I made it to the farm, but there's black vans EVERYWHERE. I sneaked into the farm house and overheard them talking about UFOs, and missing cows. I'm going to try and come home asap. Love Dad.
Saturday 18th Nov 2017 9:36am
They are searching for me! If I don't make it out, I love you, your sister and your mom. My will is in the top dr
Thursday 8th Feb 2018 12:00pm
I'm not dead. Love Dad.
Monday 21st May 2018 4.52pm
Training is finally finished. Mission begins tomorrow. I'm using my sim card on a stolen phone. I love my family.
Tuesday 20th May 2042 1:09am
I'm not sure if this will work, subspace communication and cellular data probably won't mix. We've finally arrived at Groxon. The Groxars stole all of our cows because theirs died of a genetic disease. Instead of coming to an understanding about taking half of them, they took them all. The FBI, CIA and NASA recruited me to fly one of the Groxar ships for them. They shot down dozens that night, before the Groxar started shooting back. Hopefully you guys weren't part of the casualties. So we're taking the fight to them, the American way. We'll make those bastards pay. Think of my family, Love Dad.
Monday 16th February 2067 5:14pm
Sorry that it's been 50 years. Time dilation and the law of relativity and all of that. The mission was a success at least. Turns out the Army rigged the Groxar spaceships with nukes. Their planet is now a radioactive dust ball. Serves them right I guess. I see that Earth took advantage of Groxar technology and I'll be taking a flying taxi home from the space port. Weird that the last 50 years have felt like a couple of days, I guess because it pretty much was. Travelling at 99.9% of the speed of light does that. I see that mom is still alive, give her a hug from me and warn her a little bit. Tell her I'm younger than my own kids now! Maybe not though, if either of you got messed up in the deep space exploration that NASA started. Can't wait to see you tomorrow! Love Dad.
Tuesday 17th February 2067 10:00pm
I'll be home in an hour. Love Dad.
Tuesday 17th February 2067 10:02pm
Damn. I forgot the milk. | Isabel had just taken the girls to school, and I was finishing up with breakfast. Had several cases on my mind, but after the phone call with the judge last night, I felt better about how things would end up. He was a wise man, a fair man.
There was a knock at the door.
I wasn’t expecting anyone, and it was too soon for Isabel to be back.
I got up from the table and approached the front door slowly. It was a damp, cold morning, the orange crisp leaves flooding our lawn and the sunlight soft and hazy. The prime of autumn.
I grasped the doorknob and turned it slowly. With a creak, the door opened, and a few brown leaves blew into the house. A gust of cold air moved past me, and there in the doorway stood a man. Six foot two, black hair with a bit of gray, hard, worked hands, blue jeans, brown leather work boots, a red flannel shirt, and cold, dark brown eyes. He grasped a gallon of milk in his right hand, and his left in his pocket. He stared at me, and I stared at him.
“Who are you?” He asked in a firm but soft voice. A red pickup truck was parked in the driveway.
“I said who are you? Why are you in my house?” He asked, this time with more force. His left hand came out of his pocket, and he straightened his back, a tower of a man.
“Dad?” I whispered.
He looked at me with a face half peculiar and half angry. His gaze wandered into the house, and it was clear it was not as he remembered it.
“Where’s Caroline? Where’s my boy?” He advanced.
I stood there, staring at him but looking through him. He hadn’t aged a day. He looked at me, his eyes as cold as I remember. I saw a flicker of light in the darkness. It was then that he knew.
“Dad... it’s me. It’s your son.”
He stared, and I could tell he didn’t want to believe me. Tears swelled in his eyes. He knew. He could feel it.
“...you’re all grown up... you’re my age... I went out to get some milk... it wasn’t even 50 minutes ago...”
“Dad... it’s been 50 years...”
| 2017-11-19T17:49:04 | 2017-11-19T17:23:35 | 276 | 16 |
[WP] After WW3 and a century of rebuilding, the world has been at peace for 300 years. We've let go of our violent and aggressive tendencies and abolished war. You are the leader of an alien invasion that sees the Earth as an easy target; but soon you learn we can revert to our warlike past easily. | “Hello internet!”
A large face of a female teenager filled the screen, her voice a tone of fake cheer that was so common in these videos. Especially as of late.
“Again, thank you sooooo much for all the subscribes and likes. This is a special video for my one million subscriber mark.” The view panned back, allowing the partially destroyed inside of what might have been a warehouse come into view around her head. “As promised-”, There was a pause, “We caught one!” The camera panned over to a mixture of male and females of varying ages standing around a metal table with weapons. On the table, with all six limbs chained down, the alien soldier held down, barely able to even struggle through both the wounds and restraints.
“Now, as all of you know with my previous videos, any smartknife from your kitchen can cut through their armor and flesh so long as you turn the safety settings off. See the link attached for that vid. And now onto what I wanted to show you. We’re going to be taking an indepth look at their physiology and what you can do to fight if you don’t have your smartknife.” The girl chirps.
What then proceeded over the next thirty heavily-edited minutes was one of the most exacting, horrific, and through tortures the Commander had seen of any of his own species. It was brutal. It was sickening. It broke at least two intergalactic treaties the humans had never been invited to sign. And it was narrated with that same false cheer the entire time.
The commander didn’t speak until the video ended. The soldier’s blood splattered on that false cheery face was the last frame, the girl telling people to subscribe for more vids, download the vid to share and reference later and see her friend’s channel about how to turn their blade dancing skills into a deadly fighting style.
“How wide spread is this communication?” The commander asks the intelligence officer.
“From what the counter says, billions have seen it and spread it. Even if we were to find the source, their communication system is too varied and decentralized to remove it before we have subjugated or destroyed them.” The intelligence officer behind the commander speaks quietly, trying to not look as sick as he felt. “From reports, the increase in casualties have wounds similar to the ones shown here.”
The commander continued to stare at the blood-splattered face on the screen of the stolen computer. The planet Earth had been supposed to be an easy conquest as a forward station for their on going war. It was.... had been a science and entertainment based planet with an almost zealous focus on peace. After the last two weeks of fighting, the commander now understood that the reason for that zealousness was that the humans had been restraining their own vicious nature. The compassion the humans held for each other and the other species of their planet was absent in the eyes of that smiling female. This was not the face of peace.
A small ding emanated from the computer and a small tab showed up in the upper right corner stating there was a new video. The intelligence officer hesitantly reached over to click the small pop up.
A new video opened up to the face of a noticeably older man standing there. Behind him was that same teenage girl from before, some red bloodied bandages on her arm, stomach, and head. This didn’t seem to stop her from laughing and dancing in the background though in celebration as she stood next to-
“No.” whispered the intelligence officer.
“Hello internet.” Spoke the man, voice gruffer, more tired than the girl. “Today for our 1 Billion subscriber vid we’re going to show you some different ways to hijack and pilot one of their ships." | Almost literally the plot of Larry Niven's Man-Kzin Wars.
​
*"Once upon a time, in the earliest days of interplanetary exploration, an unarmed human vessel was set upon by a warship from the planet Kzin. But the Kzinti learned the hard way that the reason humanity had given up war was that they were so very, very good at it. Thus began the Man-Kzin Wars."*
​
[*https://www.amazon.com/s?k=man-kzin+wars&crid=125J9DHYENQEP&sprefix=Man-k%2Caps%2C197&ref=nb\_sb\_ss\_c\_1\_5*](https://www.amazon.com/s?k=man-kzin+wars&crid=125J9DHYENQEP&sprefix=Man-k%2Caps%2C197&ref=nb_sb_ss_c_1_5)
​
^(please don't delete me) | 2019-02-26T12:17:05 | 2019-02-26T10:57:56 | 26 | 14 |
[WP] After North Korea declares that they will start a nuclear war if a single bullet is fired The Us military goes medieval | "Whats your report soldier?"
"Well..."
The soldier was visibly nervous. He, General Jun and several other officers were in a bunker at the outskirts of Pyongyang.
3h ago the USA and South Korea started a offensive. General Jun was tasked to drive the invaders back.
"Out with it!"
"We were able to hold our lines against the first attack."
"These are good news. The glorious leader will be delight...."
"But their next one broke trough our lines completely. All of our troops are either dead, captured or on the run."
"I see. Looks like its time to use one of our mighty bombs. We warned those filthy capitalist pigs that if they fire a single bullet at us, they w..."
"Thats the thing. They didnt use any firearm."
"Soldier, are you drunk? How can they attack us without any weapons?
"Sir, we cant get drunk since there is no alcohol in a radius of 300km left. And they attacked us with spears, swords, axes and arrows. They were also attacking us with cavalry and catapults."
"Then this means we actually have the superior technology for the first time since 60 years????"
The entire room went silent in presence of such insolence from a high ranking officer. Even the deaf radar officer was looking up from his superior Windows Vista radar system.
"What?"
General Jun was confused but then realized what he just said. He shook his head and decided that he would silence everyone in the room later.
"Now tell me how the battle exactly went."
"The first wave was destroyed within minutes. But already then our equipment started to fail and malfunction. Most magazines didnt worked properly, had to be disposed and our soldiers had to resort to manually load every single bullet. Thats why the field commander decided to use 19th century infantry tactics."
"Wait, you dont mean..."
"Yes, line infantry."
"What about our airforce, artillery and tanks??"
"The planes all constantly lost parts after the take off and came down barely more than a skeleton. The artillery either blew themself up or couldnt shoot from the begin due to faulty ammunition or because there wasnt any to begin with."
"What about our tanks? They should have dealt with them without any problems?"
"Thats what the field commander thought. But it turns out those 40 guys pulling a tank were extremly vulnerable to enemy archers. And onced immobilized the tanks got swarmed and lit on fire."
"The what happened to the line infantry?"
"They tried to stand their ground, or at least those who still could stand. Damn influenza..."
"But?"
"The formations all broke after being showered with arrow volleys and rocks flinged from their trebuchets."
"Then we must hold the capital by all means. We will dig in and wait for their supplies to run out. We can h..."
"Yeah, about that.."
"Oh no, please dont tell me.."
"Yes, the glorious leader wanted a midnight snack..." | I'm sharpening my knives mom sent me from back home in Kansas while pulling guard in the war room, thousands of miles away from home, missing my girl and thinking about muscle cars when suddenly, the radar picks up 3 blips coming from the North at ballistic speeds.
*The end.* | 2017-03-19T08:14:10 | 2017-03-19T07:18:14 | 52 | 19 |
[WP] You slowly start to realize that all of your friends are undercover agents tasked with keeping you alive. Then, at your birthday party, with every friend surrounding you, the people trying to kill you finally find you.
Have fun. | **Operation Patrick: Prologue**
‘… to you! Happy birthday, dear Patrick! Happy birthday, to, yooouuu!’
And as he blew out the candles on his birthday cake, everybody clapped and cheered, as if he just finished half a marathon. Patrick started to cut up the cake, double chocolate chip, and passed several plates with the dark brown pastry around. He seemed to have the time of his life, laughing, chatting up that cute bartender girl who made the cocktails, singing off-key, drinking too much, the usual birthday stuff for young adults.
Then, Patrick announced a bit too loud for it to not to be embarrassing that he needed to go to the bathroom, for a number two, before shuffling off in the direction of the men’s room.
‘Good thing we’re tasked with keeping him alive, and not for getting him laid.’
‘Yeah, the number two announcement probably killed his chances with slim and busty behind the bar.’
‘What a shame. Her hands look like they could shake the hell out of more than just a cocktail.’
‘Who’s on potty watch by the way? Can’t have Patrick die Elvis-style on his birthday.’
‘Ah, that would be me, better get to it.’
He made his way across the bar through the crowd, all putting up a great façade. He would have sworn this to be a regular party for a twenty-something guy, if not for the fact that only several hours earlier they shared the mission brief together. Before entering the men’s room, he patted the left side of his suit jacket to check whether his sidearm was still holstered there; it was.
‘Excuse me?’
He turned around, and Busty the barmaid was standing there, dressed in clothing revealing a bit too much.
‘Uhm, yes?’ he stammered, trying to keep his eyes from trailing downwards.
‘I was hoping to give the birthday boy a gift. In there,’ whilst pointing towards the bathroom door with a naughty smile on her face.
‘Really? I mean, didn’t you hear what he just sai—‘
And then it dawned. He quickly grabbed Busty by her neck and dragged her violently through the swinging doors of the ladies’, where he threw her against the wall. A quick scan of the room told him they were the only ones there, and before she could do anything, he drew his sidearm with suppressor and discharged three bullets into her; two in the chest, one in the head. She was dead before she hit the floor. He knelled beside Busty, checked her body, and there it was, on her upper thigh, the Mark.
The drinks she made, Patrick drank them, ‘Fuck!’
Quickly exiting the ladies’ room, he rushed into the men’s. Four stalls with doors closed were situated on the far wall, and one long urinal with a sink and mirrors opposite of them. Two high-placed windows were built in the east wall, one of which was open, letting in some street ambience.
‘Patrick?’ he called out, whilst crouching to see whether any of the stalls were occupied; one pair of legs was visible in the far right stall and he knocked on the door, ‘That you?’
He tried pushing the door open, locked, and a little hint of panic struck him. A swift kick opened the stall with a bang. And there he sat, trousers and cartoon themed trunks around his ankles, face hugging the stall wall, a bit of drool hanging from his mouth, and one hand just barely holding on to his cell phone suspended over the toilet, motionless, with an essence of defecation.
‘No no no,’ he dashed over to check his pulse, it was there, but faint. He held Patrick’s head over the toilet and stuck his fingers down his throat to make him throw up. The stuff that came out was brightly coloured, from all the girly drinks he’d been having. But after a few heaves, he no longer threw up, and was no longer breathing.
Dragging his body out of the stall, he laid him down on his back on the wet floor, and started to do chest compressions. One, two, three, four, breathe, one, two, three, four, breathe. The ribcage crunched and cracked with each compression, ‘Breathe!’, and he kept pressing on, as if his own life depended on it. After one particular hard push, which caved in the ribcage by more than a couple of inches, Patrick vomited some more, and started gasping for air. He held Patrick’s head sideways, so he wouldn’t choke on his own puke. Patrick then passed out again, though breathing now.
Awkwardly he pulled up Patrick’s trunks and trousers, which were drained through with water, diarrhea, and what else was lying on the bathroom floor. It was an embarrassing sight, and he sighed deeply.
He flipped open his phone and autodialed, ‘I need a medical extraction for the Postman. They found us.’
*Author edit: Given the support and interest for an expansion of the story, I'll seriously consider to do so. Keep watching this space for further updates, or hit me up with a PM so I can make a list of interested users. No promises though on the if's and when's ;)*
*Author edit (5/12/2014): Expanded and tightened the story a bit!*
*Author edit (6/12/2014): Read on in [chapter 1](http://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/2ogpoq/ccpi_operation_patrick_chapter_i/)!*
*Author edit (8/1/2015): Currently continueing (in private) the Patrick story under the guise of my New Year's resolution, which is writing at least 300 words per day. So, at the end of the year, I should have a 100.000+ word novel to show off (currently at 2250 words!).*
| It’s weird. It really is. I mean, you watch the Truman Show and think about how messed up that is. But you never, ever actually stop to consider that you might be in a similar situation. Sure, my life isn’t a TV show, but I’ve come to realize over the last few weeks that it would be an instant hit if it was. This is my story of how the most important asset in the world was nearly assassinated. But through an international task force, including the United States, Russia, and China amongst others, I was kept alive.
It was my 20th birthday. My parents were out of town and said I could use their house to throw a big birthday bash as long as I cleaned up. And so I did. All my friends were in attendance. Then again, ever since - what was it, junior high? I can’t remember - we had been friends, they always showed up to all the events I was at.
I stood around as everyone talked amongst themselves and noticed a couple people I didn’t invite. I couldn’t believe that there were party crashers at my 20th birthday. I started to walk towards them, to tell them they needed to leave, when Brittany came walking up to me.
“Happy birthday!” she cheered, blowing one of those annoying party whistles.
I had known Brittany since I was only 3 or 4 years old. We were best friends. We grew up together. We were even working together.
“Come with me,” she said, grabbing my hand. We started walking towards the guest bedroom. “I’ve got something to show you.”
I followed as we went through the door and she closed it.
“What have you got?” I asked.
I never got an answer. Before I knew it, she was right up in front of me. She unhooked my bra with amazing speed and had her tongue in my mouth before I could protest. She stopped all of a sudden and backed away. Her face was redder than I’d ever seen.
She then moved to the stereo and turned it on, drowning out the noise from outside the bedroom.
“This is my present,” Brittany said, pulling off her top.
I stared, confused. We were both straight girls. And all of a sudden my platonic best friend is hitting on me. And then her bra came off and my eyes were glued to her breasts.
We made out on the bed for a few minutes after that. I couldn’t believe I was even doing it. I don’t even like girls. Or at least I didn’t think I did. But then I heard the gunshot. Brittany insisted it was nothing. That I didn’t need to worry. But I slowly forced her off of me and opened the door.
Outside was a spectacle of blood and guts splattered everywhere. The party crashers were all dead. And all but one of my friends, Ryan, were sprawled across the floor in a lake of blood.
“Listen,” Ryan began. “You are a high value asset to the world. We’ve been assigned to protect you by an international joint operation task force. It is essential…”
Ryan keeled over from the gunshot wound. Brittany stood in the doorway, the smoking gun in her hand.
“Sorry,” she said as she looked at me. “But you’re coming with me. You are very… you are very… you are…” she sputtered.
I watched as my best friend dropped dead right before me.
And that, mom and dad, is why the house is so messy. Blood is rather stubborn at being cleaned up.
-326 | 2014-11-22T12:27:47 | 2014-11-22T12:21:16 | 700 | 19 |
[WP] When the genie offers you four instead of three wishes, you are confused. He admits that the fourth wish will not affect you, but the next person who finds him - and if you make it, you'll in turn be affected by the previous fourth wish. | David had bought an old oil lamp in a garage sale, thinking it was a neat addition to the various oddities he displayed on his room. Atop his desk was black meteorite, an antique Chinese tea set, and now a slightly scratched arabic lamp, just like in all the genie stories he had heard in his youth. Since the scratches looked mostly superficial, David brought out a cloth and spray can from his desk, cleaning the lamp as hard as he could with them.
A purple smoke slithered out of the lamp, causing David to drop it before taking a few steps backwards. The magical haze came out more violently the longer it went on, obscuring everything the room until only the lamp and David were visible. David's eyes widened just as his mouth gaped open when a muscular figure shaped himself from the essence. Sporting a gotee and a purple vest, the genie loomed over David and said:
"I am the genie of the lamp, master. I can grant you four wishes, whatever your heart desires. What is thy bidding?"
"Four?" Said David. "Isn't it supposed to be three?"
"Oh umm..." The genie looked around, dragged out a chair, and sat down. "Technically, yes, but there's a catch. The fourth wish isn't for you, it's for the next person that picks up the lamp. *You'll* be subjected to the fourth wish of the previous owner."
"Hmm, even though I think I'm suffering a mental delusion right now, I'll play along." David scratched his head and sat on his bed. "Ok, there's the obvious possibility that the previous owner was a dick, meaning that his fourth wish might screw me over. I'm guessing I can't just wish to know *his* fourth wish, right?"
The genie nodded and said:
"Yup, you can't do that. I mean, that would kill the fun of it, wouldn't it?"
"I thought as much... Fine, I'll work around it. For my first wish, I wish I knew who the previous owner was."
"Your wish is my command!"
The genie snapped his fingers with an unexpectedly loud sound. Knowledge of the previous owner rushed into David's mind, giving him a clear insight into who he was. Strangely enough, David recognized him immediately. It was the former ruler of the current Human Empire. A man that two hundred years ago unified earth under one banner and led our species into a golden age. He was Alexander Wilfery. His empire collapsed because of a power vacuum when he died, and was still in conflict with three major powers striving for complete conquest.
"That explains a lot..." said David. "I always thought it was a bit strange how he managed to acomplish all that on his own. If I were him, I'd probably use my fourth wish to make sure the next owner doesn't mess up my empire once I'm gone. That makes things easy, I guess."
"Oh it does?" The genie raised his eyebrow. "You have your next wish ready, then?"
"Yup! As long as I don't threaten Earth and his empire, I'm gonna be fine. So, for my second wish, I wish I was immortal, with eternal youth, of course. I don't want to end up an undying pile of bones."
"Heh, clever. I thought I was gonna get you with that one." The genie snapped his fingers, with the same thunderous noise following his gesture. Electricity emerged from the genie's hands and struck David with its power. David then felt an inexplicable rush of strength swell up inside of him. "It is done. Now, do you have your third wish ready?"
"Yes, in fact, I do. For my third wish, I wish I was proclaimed the new emperor of the human empire. There's no way this will go against Alexander's wish. If I'm the emperor, then everything will be peaceful and unified."
The genie grinned, snapped his fingers, and said:
"It is done. Well then, this will be incredibly amusing. What's the wish you want passed on?"
"I wish that whoever gets this lamp next, can't use it on me or anything I have built."
"Perfect. Now, for Alexander's wish." The genie stood up, hovered above David, and snapped his fingers, draining a strange form of ethereal energy out of David's body. David fell to his knees, weakened by the jolt. "You completely misunderstood Alexander. He didn't achieve greatness thanks to me. In fact, he found my lamp long after he stabilized his empire. He didn't care about the duration of his empire, he was well aware that nothing lasts forever, including what he built. He did, however, care about what a reckless owner might do to humanity." He leaned in closer and furrowed his brow. "Like a politically inexperienced kid being in charge of billions of people."
"So what did he wish for?!?" David glared at the genie. "Tell me, now!"
"He wished that if a person asked for something bigger than what they could accomplish, they would be forever cursed to strive for it." The genie smiled. "Here's the thing, right now, you have been indentified by some governments as one of the few people on Earth with a claim for Alexander's throne. I guess you could say that you're now a part of his bloodline. Now, this is just me speculating, but I'm guessing you have about half an hour before assasins of every competing faction show up to make sure you don't ruin *their* claims to the throne." The genie turned around and floated towards his lamp. "I'll be going now."
"Wait!" David raised his arm in a pleading fashion. "What about my immortality!?!"
The genie shrugged and said:
"If you manage to become emperor, I'll make you immortal again. Good luck!"
----------------------------
>If you enjoyed this, you can check out more of my stories over at /r/WeirdEmoKidStories!
| "So there's no telling whether it'll be positive or not?"
"Nope. And honestly, some of them are pretty funny, so I wouldn't like to spoil the surprise," the genie grinned, bearing more than a passing resemblance to the Cheshire Cat.
Jordan, decked out in casual sportswear and a backpack, never thought he would find something so spectacular while playing Pokémon GO. He sipped his water bottle, slowly pondering his options. As a lifelong Pokémon fan, he was pretty sure about what he wanted.
"I can use my three wishes first before deciding whether to use the fourth one, right?"
"Of course! I am absolutely not egging you on to take the fourth wish. Not at all, never will I do something like that," another wide grin, this time with a sort of twisting motion that would make a breakdancer jealous.
It was a pretty straightforward choice from then, as Jordan started to craft his first wish.
"I wish for Pokémon to be real."
The genie bowed his head, snapped his fingers, and bellowed. "Your wish is my command."
Jordan's phone started shaking violently, as blinding beams of light escaped from the phone. He quickly covered his eyes, slowly removing his hands to reveal a struggling Magikarp on the floor.
"You chose a Magikarp as your buddy?"
"I was 5km away from a Gyarados." Jordan shrugged, before recalling 'Gyaraboss' with a recently materialised Pokéball. He could distinctly hear Pokémon start to populate the forest, with their distinctive cries ringing throughout. Thankfully, there weren't much people around, or the forest would also be filled with sounds of humans wetting themselves.
"As you please. Now, for the second one?"
"I would like to have an unlimited supply of Master Balls."
"You are a strange, strange man, Jordan. But as you wish!"
With a flourish of his hands, an utility belt with multiple pockets appeared. The genie opened one to show the gleaming capturing device inside.
"Replenishes automatically once used. Hope that's good enough for you."
"Definitely. As for the third wish, I wish that I had Gary as a rival!"
"Wow, alright then. Here he is."
Clasping his hands together, a cloud of smoke poofed up. When the dust settled, Gary's distinctive form and spiked hair took its place. He sneered at Jordan, and Jordan never felt happier in his life.
"I wish the world will stay like this forever." Jordan blurted out, before realising his mistake.
Suddenly, a whirlpool of colours and sounds, and Jordan lost conscience.
___________________________________________________________
"And that, my friends, is why you should practise responsible wish making. The fourth wish rule will work regardless, but I highly suggest not to mention anything about it. Almost everybody will assume they have three wishes anyway."
As the classroom full of budding genies nodded, Jordan sighed and floated over to the timetable.
"So Mr Jordan, what was the previous and next owner's fourth wish?"
"The previous guy was an asshole. He wanted the next person to be his personal genie. He then wished for more goddamn genies."
"Jordan! I didn't wish for you to dilly dally! Go and teach the next class, right now!" Gary looked into the room while on his Pidgeot, sneering at Jordan.
"Your wish is my command," sighed Jordan. | 2016-09-30T09:07:03 | 2016-09-30T07:55:32 | 168 | 59 |
[WP] Every starfaring species has discovered a different form of FTL travel. Kantian gates, Salec skip drives, Maltiun wave-riders, Delfanit pulse tubes ... Humanity's solution was regarded as "Unorthodox", "Unsafe", and "Damn Stupid" by the rest of the galaxy. | "Idiot fuk human design shit-tier spaceship get all Brogga friend kill't. End all. Stoopt fuk. E'ryon kno warp spacetime. E'ryon kno break litspeeding. E'ryon kno crate warm hole. E'ryon kno cut mass half. E'yron cept idiot fuk humans. Y d'sign dumb shit-tier drive can't fi'ure out nuttin'. Cant warp spacetime. Cant break litspeeding. Cant crate warm hole. Cant cut mass. 'Stead idiot fuk human burrow down subquark stangelet bullshit risk implode entire quadrant for fuk newmatter. Y? Too dumb, tha's y. Now Brogga stuk dumb idiot fuk human ship on oth'r side galactic spinward fr'home. Idiot fuk human get Brogga kill't, get Brogga friend kill't..."
The muttering was cut off by a bang, followed by curses unutterable by the tongues of men. Poor old Brogga had been clanking about underneath the hullward dash for the last three days, almost without a break, muttering the entire time.
Say what he would, Brogga was nothing short of a mechanical genius, being the only Broggan capable of working on the Subquark-plated external combustion Engine. It took a particularly pliable mind to make an external combustion engine work, particularly when one was compressing- and burning- pure vacuum. The only real downside was the slight chance of creating decay, but if that happened it wouldn't matter as the entire tanker would be destroyed within seconds. I supposed it would have mattered to the rest of the Universe, but Brogga wouldn't have cared for he would have been the first to go.
Well, okay, there was a second slight problem. See, by burning pure vacuum they wore away a little strip of the cosmos. It was so small that it probably didn't matter, and the Universe was expanding anyways, but certain routes did get more traffic and engines were getting more efficient all the time.
"Idiot fuk human shit design fuk"
More clattering and banging from underneath the hullward dash.
"Idiot fuk human, try now"
Brogga's curses were rewarded with a shuttering rumble as the external combustion engine roared to life.
"Well that's curious" Captain Froy remarked, staring in disbelief at the guages.
Normal external combustion engines were able to operate somewhere between 10,000% and 100,000% efficiency, and for every joule of vacuum energy burned 100% efficiency would yield 10 kilo-joules.
The digital display read 10^89 % efficiency.
"Brogga, I think this gauge is busted."
"Idiot fuk human replace it then. Brogga sleeps."
Then, with customary swagger Captain Froy shoved the throttle open and pulled out, easing back into his seat for a cozy nap. However, when Captain Froy awoke several hours later he was not where he expected. In fact, he was not sure where he was at all.
You see, Brogga had accidentally upgraded their engine. Nobody saw the display, but if they had, they would have seen Brogga, Froy, and the rest of the crew tearing ass across the Universe, ripping a cosmic-scale gash in the vacuum like God's holy zipper. Of course this hole rapidly closed up, but in the time it would normally take them to travel a few hundred lightyears they had soared clear of the "observable Universe" several times over.
In fact, they had traveled so far they weren't entirely sure how to get back.
Thus began the journey of Brogga and the idiot fuk humans who wasted 600 years of his life and destroyed his capacity to speak properly. | Well, you know how in the old Simpsons opening scene Bart grabs the back of the bus on his skate board?
That. We do that. We use magnetic attachments and stealth tech (cos if they saw us they'd shake us off) and we hang on till we get to where we want to go. Then we disengage and wander off like we just happened to be there... Nobody realised till a couple of months ago when someone's stealth tech malfunctioned. Poor Delfanit bastards still cop it whenever they dock: 'better check you haven't got A WHOLE FUCKING SHIP ATTACHED'
At least the Delf have a sense of humor, the Salec passed legislation last week stating any hitchers would be executed. So here we are waiting for a chance to disengage and get away from a ship that travels faster than light in a junker that has a half rod of fuel and like half its working parts.
OH! And we only have 2 cans of WD40 and 5 rolls of duct tape, so even if we do manage to pull off a miracle and escape our ship is gonna stop working anyway! But hey, we get to go down in history as the first idiots to die from this legislation so my Ma will have something to frame on the wall at home I guess.
Fuuuuuck.
| 2017-03-31T12:19:53 | 2017-03-31T06:53:53 | 37 | 18 |
[WP] You meet a girl at a bar. When you asked if she'd been in a relationship before you found her response that they never got past the met the parents phase a bit odd, surely no ones parents are that bad. Now, as you sit across the table from death himself, you're beginning to see what she meant.
This is my first post on reddit, here's hoping you lot can come up with an interesting story or two. | "Are you quite certain this is the right address?" I asked my girlfriend.
"Oh, I'm quite certain. Does this look like the kind of place I'd mistake for another?" she asked me in a slightly flippant tone.
She was referring to the somewhat notable fact that absolutely everything from the soil in the garden to the roof of the house was completely black. Honestly, I had never before imagined that so many shades of black could exist. The door was the black of night set against the brilliance of stars, the petunias were the slick black of a wet street at midnight, there were even bees the color of tar flying from flower to flower. I imagined they would produce black honey.
"Well, it seems your Father has a...uniform taste of decoration." I was starting to get the distinct feeling that I very much did not want to go into the house.*
We stepped up the black brick steps and knocked on the heavy black door. To my great relief, an older graying man stood to great us in the entryway. "Ms. Ysabell, it's good to see you, and I see the young man actually made it to the door! That's very promising." He stepped out of the entryway and gestured for us to enter. "Let me take your coats. The Master is eager to meet you."
My heart sunk as I realized this must be a manservant. I had never before had the occasion of being in a home with servants before. This did nothing for my nerves, though it did explain the great white charger which had ridden us here.
We walked through the soot-black house and found ourselves at the entrance to what was a truly grand dining room. Well, it would have been grand,if light didn't seem to evaporate into the black clad everything of the room.
For some reason the thought 'At least it will be a lovely last meal.' popped into my head. I shook away the thought and pulled out a chair for Ysabell to sit down. Shortly afterwards, I took my seat beside her.
I was just about to ask Ysabell if her Father was going to show up at all when a rather tall, thin man coughed from the seat at the head of the table. He was clad in black robes which covered his face, something was extremely familiar about the man.
Before I had the chance to introduce myself, the man spoke in a voice like capitol letters "HELLO YSABELL, I AM GLAD TO SEE THAT YOU MADE IT HOME ALRIGHT. HOW WAS THE JOURNEY?"
The voice wasn't loud, not really. But it had the dual quality of hammering into your mind like a nail in a coffin, and fleeing the mind just as quickly. I found myself having trouble remembering what had been said.
Ysabell said, "The journey was an easy one, Binky made the trip easy as ever. Father, this is Mortimer. I met him at the Mended Drum in Ankh-Morpork. Go ahead and say hello Mortimer." she touched my hand in encouragement.
Somehow the hand reassured me enough to allow my jaw to un-tense, "Pleased to meet you sir, but you can call me Mort. It's what I go by you see."
Her Father seemed to reflect on what I said for a moment, "MORT...YES, THAT SEEMS TO BE APPROPRIATE. WELL, IT IS VERY NICE TO MEET YOU. ALBERT! WE ARE READY TO BE SERVED DINNER!" The man raised his voice, somehow the volume seemed to be the same, but I knew it would have carried exactly as far as the man had wanted it to.
Shortly after calling for food, it arrived. I thanked Io that the food at least seemed to be normal everyday colors. Except however with the notable exception of honey. It would seem that I was right after all. We served up the food and settled down to eat. I tore off a piece of fried turkey and asked Ysabell's Father, "So, what exactly do you do for a living? Are you a lord?"
Ysabell seemed to flinch, but her Father responded gravely** "I ESCORT THE SOULS OF THE LIVING INTO THE NEXT STAGE OF EXISTENCE. IT'S A LIVING....IN A MANNER OF SPEAKING."
I had trouble understanding exactly what he meant, but it seemed to be something to do with undertaking. Maybe he ran a mortuary? "Oh, well the market is always good then eh? Always plenty of demand." I took another bite of the turkey.
"YES," said Ysabell's Father, "IN FACT, I'VE BEEN LOOKING FOR AN APPRENTICE. ARE YOU CURRENTLY EMPLOYED? YOU SEEM LIKE JUST THE TYPE FOR MY KIND OF WORK."
I looked at Ysabell and blushed, "Well sir, I'll take that as a compliment. I suppose I might be interested. What is the pay like?"
The man dropped his hood and smiled, though with a face like that it would be hard not to, "IMMORTALITY FOR A START, I WOULD ALSO BE WILLING TO THROW IN A MONTHLY STIPEND."
I blanched, suddenly coming to terms with who this was. "Death, your Lordship. I never expected to be dining with you Sir."
Ysabell looked embarrassed and whispered, "You don't have to say yes. He has been trying to get me to take over for years, I've always said no."
I mulled it over. None of the boys back home would be able to top this, plus as I said before, demand would always be high. "When do I start?" I asked.
Death responded, "WE WILL START TODAY. AFTER THE DATE IS OVER OF COURSE, I WOULD HATE FOR THE PIE TO GO TO WASTE. TELL ME THOUGH, HOW DO YOU FEEL ABOUT CATS?"
"Cats?" I asked puzzled, "I love them Sir. I own two in fact."
Death's eyes glowed blue as saphires, and bright as torches "YES, I THINK YOU WILL SERVE QUITE WELL."
The food was delicious, and the pie was to die for.
*******************************************************************************************
This is the same feeling a cat would have faced with the prospect of entering a crowded kennel. *
Death isn't capable of NOT speaking gravely as it were. **
***************************************************************************************
/r/SirLemoncakes This was fantastic fun. I set this in the world of The Discworld, a place which is near and dear to my heart. Read Mort! by Sir Terry Pratchett for a much better written take at this story. | Sitting across from me, just past the brazier of flame that lit the small part of darkness outside my backyard sat a man who I never have thought to meet till the end of my days.
"Is Death the formal name? Or do you actually have a name?" I said a little nervous, but maintained my cool.
"No, it's more of a title, the name is John." Death... or John had said a polite manner.
What made this a bit more worry is that as the light flickered you could see a skeletal appearance. Pushing that thought to the side, I went to reach for the cooler by my chair for a drink. Pulling out two and gesturing to John if he wanted one.
"Sure." He said as I tossed him the bottle.
"Now, to get this out of the way, should I be worried about dating Anna?" Giving a quick glance at the cane at his side. Which was black with a silver crest at the top shaped like a scythe.
John just looked down at it, and as expected stated "Only if you do something that angers me."
"Makes sense, honestly today wasn't what I expected." Speaking softly, as I wandered into my own mind trying to wrap my head around this.
What am I suppose to say? Do? Anna had just left me with her dad, who is Death, and went back into the house to clean the dishes. Do I ask how his day was? How's work? He's fricken Death!
Breaking the silence, John spoke up, "So what do you plan on doing with Anna? Sorry I haven't met you yet, but she does worry about me meeting those she hangs out with."
Sipping my drink, trying to think of an appropriate response.
"Not sure sir, I like her, she likes me, we get along but planning isn't something I had in mind. Only been dating for the past month and a half."
John moved his cane to the side of his lawn chair and began drinking his drink. Does that still work? Dude looks like a skeleton part of the time.
"Makes sense." John said taking a light sip. "I imagine you're quite confused, think nothing of it, we won't have problems as long as you don't create them."
Does he think I'm a terrible person? I admit to not being the best I can be, but cut me some slack!
"Let's hope it does not come to ummm... that." I said gesturing towards the cane.
"Oh that's fine, not your time yet. Anna does like you though, and from what I heard from her, you're pretty alright."
If I'm stuck in a fever dream, someone should slap me out of it.
"Now I know the general... perception of me is not great. Know this however, I am as much of a man as you are. I was once human after all."
"I suppose that clears up the whole father, daughter, thing..." I said with a small laugh.
You wouldn't be able to tell, but I swear I saw a smile creep across that face for a second.
John pulled out a book, seemingly out of the air and then looked to the watch on his hand. "Shit, I'll be back in an hour. I'm late for the third disaster that has happened today." The book vanished and he grabbed his cane. "Lovely dinner, tell Anna I love her and Ray.."
"Ummm... Yes sir..?"
"Make sure dessert is ready." Then John stepped through a portal that appeared quickly as it appeared.
At this point Anna had just come out from the backdoor next to me and hugged me as she sat in a chair. "Did Dad leave again?" As she sat up and looked around for any sign of him.
"Yea he said he had to go take care of something. Can you make sure the fire stays warm? I gota go prepare dessert."
________________________________________
In a shadowy realm in a far off place, amongst the wreckage of yet another crash. John pulled souls from their beaten forms, ready to get the afterlife.
"I do hope Anna tells him at some point what happens to the men of the family." | 2018-11-15T17:31:36 | 2018-11-15T16:56:07 | 97 | 57 |
[WP] the greatest event on the galactic stage is the fear games where species put their greatest monsters in a series of events to see who has the greatest monster, but them humans came and wiped the floor with everyone. | Beastly creatures. Long pink bodies, fibrous extensions off their craniums, black blood. Humans, on their own, are terrifying. Capable of enacting substantial damage in large groups, they are even more vicious on their own. The Fear games were always intended to allow members to submit the monsters of their world, but humans managed to clean up all on their own. It didn't help that they were monsters on their own. Most had learned mastery of the many weapons offered long before reaching the global stage, but between their intelligence, and strange visual abilities, it didn't really matter.
Oh, and they weren't all the same.
---
"Entering the Fear Dome, San-Ra-Tel! A vicious beast of Oran-2, with claws of steel, and armored plates stronger than diamond, it is our 4 time reigning champion."
The crowd cheered as the beast bounded into the dome, fangs and claws bared as it screamed at the crowd.
"And joining Ra-Tel, first time entry from Sel-3, Steve! This creature, known as a Human, has amazing intuition, and has already climbed the ranks. Currently 17-0, undefeated, this will be their first chance at the championship."
Again the crowd cheered. Fresh blood always made things interesting, and this new creature had shown surprising ability. The human stepped out. An unusual shape, it stepped out covered in slick feathers from head to toe. It's arms formed iridescent wings, and it's feed ended in sharp talons. A smile covered it's face.
"Fighters! Choose your weapons!" Those with natural weapons rarely picked a weapon. But this time, the human took one. A small knife. A strange choice, considering grasping it seemed to prevent it from flying. Ra-Tel refused any weapon.
A buzz sounded, and the two entered fighting stances. Steve carried the knife with the blade facing it's wrist, while Ra-Tel crouched down, exposing only it's scaled hide.
Steve quickly moved in, closing the gap at an unexpected speed, it's movement becoming difficult to track. Dogging a swipe from Ra-Tel's claws, it struck at the scales, the knife glancing off them. Scanning the creature it quickly turned the knife and plunged it between two scales, jumping on it's back. Rather than continuing to strike, which Ra-Tel expected, it began to pry the scale off. The unexpected pain sent Ra-Tel careening back. Steve cleared the scale, then took to the sky after leaving the knife between another pair of scales. It landed on the other side of the field, ready to close the gap again.
But that proved to be unnecessary. The removed scale had left Ra-Tel in immeasurable pain, and it quickly succumbed to the blood loss. Like before, Steve had managed to eliminate it's foe in quick order, moments after the start buzzer sound. The audience held quiet for a moment, waiting to see if Ra-Tel returned. Then erupted in applause. Terror held strong here, and Steve had shown it could kill any of them in moments.
Good thing it was well handled.
Right?
---
*If you liked this, there is more over on r/societyofmythicpeople. I've been writing this universe for a few weeks now, and always enjoy trying to find new ways to make it work* | "... And facing them tonight, the newcomers from the Sol system, Humanity! With... Um... what is that?"
"For its first bout, B0-81, the Humans have bought an archival text made from materials native to their home world, Earth. I'd like to remind our viewers at home, this is not unprecedented, as some monsters are so heinous, such a threat to a species survival, that they have no choice but to be driven to extinction."
"I'm with you now R0-81, after all the Radom won a while back with the Cloven, a insectoid parasite that created a hive mind that converted its victims into unthinking killing machines they successfully destroyed eons ago."
"Right you are, and as is standard any archived information will be read out first before any living creature is introduced. We go to the floor now, where the humans are beginning their reading."
"For our monster, I would like to tell you all about a Human male called Pol Pot..." | 2019-10-22T12:10:40 | 2019-10-22T09:33:59 | 26 | 17 |
[WP] Not far from your village is a small grove. Within the grove a monster dwells. It devours the guilty and leaves the innocent. When the worst crimes are committed, the accused are sent to face the creature. You have murdered someone in self-defense. You enter the grove unsure of your fate. | I walked deeper into the trees, damp hands clutching the side of my trousers, heart trying to thump its way through my chest. Although it was dark and I could barely see where I was stepping, I could sense the... thing. I wondered if this was how prey felt.
Something rustled behind me and I almost tripped over my own feet. My body was electrified with adrenaline and it screamed for me to flee, but I stayed put. I forced one foot in front of the other. Maybe I deserved this.
The image of the limp body lying by my bloodied shoes flashed in my mind.
He was not my friend. He was someone who sought to hurt me and make my life living hell whenever and however he saw fit. Each new day brought with him a new sick game idea to play out. As kids it was humiliating pranks and taunts in front of others, as adults it evolved into something much worse.
The very last time... it crossed too many lines. I will never forget the wave of emotions that hit me so strongly, so overwhelmingly, my vision was reduced to colors. I think that was the point where I broke. The pain, the horror that was my life, the anger all started melding into one. The next time he struck down on me I pushed outwards to finally, for once, protect myself.
When my head cleared, he was dead.
But was this considered self-defense? That question spun in my mind around and around again. At first I was sure, but after the berating, the judging, and the disgust of everyone around me, I was starting to think otherwise.
I reached a small clearing, where the moon spotlit me like a livestock on display, waiting for their inevitable slaughter. My knees threatened to give way.
The creature stepped into view. The only word that registered in my mind was "nightmare". It looked to be the epitome of what lurked in the shadows of your mind. It had thick, hairy arms that were attached to a body over twice my height. And it's face... strangely enough, it looked like it was made of rock almost; it had splits and cracks all over. Or was it scars?
It stared at me intently with eyes that look terrifyingly human and intelligent. Out of all the monstrosities of its body, this was the most unsettling to me. It stared and stared, and I choked back tears.
Did I deserve to be torn to shreds by those teeth that looked like enlarged talons? Maybe it would be better that way. It wasn't like I had a life outside of the torment. I had no one who ever stood up for me either.
It slunk closer, and I resisted the urge to scrunch my nose.
"Your crime. What is it?" It's voice was a deep, raspy rumble.
"I-I killed someone."
"Why?"
"He was a bully. Someone who kept hurting me since we were young." I gulped loudly. "I-I only wanted to protect myself."
"You were angry."
"Y-yes, of course I was. But I didn't mean to hurt him. I-I swear!" I hated how my voice trembled but I had no way to prevent it.
Its eyes narrowed. I heard a tear from the fabric of my shirt between my fingers.
"You are unhappy. With your life."
The plain statement startled me. I didn't know what this creature was but I didn't think this was what would come out of its mouth. I looked down, feeling the sting in my eyes as I forced myself to think of all the pain. Not just the pain he gave me, but the pain from everyone else. It was almost worse, in a way; to be so clearly hurt, and then to see that you were so clearly uncared about.
I almost wanted to laugh that the only one to even just acknowledge my feelings was the one that would kill me. Maybe this would be it's way to show me mercy.
"If you continue through the grove, there is a way out on the other side."
"W-what?" The creature was sitting now, almost idly. Although it still towered over me, it seemed a tad less frightening.
"I can tell that you were not treated right your entire life. Not just from the man that died but from others too." It flicked its head to point to the other side. "So run."
"B-but they will think you ate me and I was guilty."
"Does it matter?"
"No."
I was almost surprised at my lack of hesitation. The creature was right. It did not matter because I would never have to see them again.
The creature moved to the side to let me through. My heart was still pounding, but for a different reason now. I did not know of the existence of this third option, but I was grateful that it was bestowed upon me.
As I marched towards the edge of the trees once again, I paused. "The others that never came home and were supposedly killed by you... did you offer them the same option?"
The creature did not respond.
But as with the other question, it did not matter. "Thank you," I said solemnly, before trudging onwards, into the unknown.
What laid ahead, I did not know. Perhaps I would be killed by some other animal immediately. Perhaps I would starve to death. Or perhaps I would end up making it through. In the end, the outcome made no difference.
I was finally free.
And that was the only thing that did matter.
\---
Thanks for reading! Feedback welcome :) If you liked that, feel free to check out my [sub](https://www.reddit.com/r/thegoodpage) for more! | Dekker didn't believe in trial by combat. What an absurd concept! But that hadn't stopped him cheering for blood on the grove's edge, while the condemned faced off against the terrible Spork. Noone knew exactly what Spork was, they just accepted that he was a monster that feasted upon guilty flesh. Some of Spork's verdicts had been questionable. How Ziko the rapist had convinced Spork he was innocent was anyone's guess.
Now it was Dekker's turn to be judged. The path to the grove was lined with chanting villagers.
'SPORK! SPORK! SPORK! SPORK!'
*Not the most original chant,* Dekker thought. As he neared the grove, half the villagers started cheering for blood. He strained his ear, hoping that at least some were cheering for his innocence, or at the least, cheering for Justice. It was like they wanted him to be guilty. And it was pretty obvious he was not guilty.
Finally he stood alone in the grove with Spork walking up to him. It was like a giant chicken, twice the height of any man. A vicious hooked beak that looked like it could shatter stone. Talons like swords scraping through the dirt, unearthing old forgotten skeletons. Spork now stood before him, looking at him, judging him? Dekker was innocent. Or at least he was pretty sure he was innocent. He had provoked the young prince, sure, but they were just taunts. The prince had drawn his wand first which was clearly an actionable offence. Right? Maybe he shouldn't have murdered the Prince. He could admit that much. But guilty of murder? The more Dekker thought about the more he questioned his own innocence.
'So how does this work?' he said to Spork.
'How does what work?' Spork said.
'How do you decide if i'm guilty or innocent?'
'What?'
...
'You are supposed to judge my innocence,' Dekker said.
'How the fuck would I know if you're innocent? I don't even know you.'
'Then what do you usually do when the condemned are set before you?'
'I dunno, whatever I feel like. If i'm hungry, I eat.'
'This is bullshit.'
'Well are you innocent.'
'Of course I am,' Dekker said. It wasn't a complete lie. Innocent until proven guilty and all that.
'I'm not convinced, and i'm feeling kinda hungry.'
Dekker backed away from the oversized death chicken. It seemed to no longer have an appetite for conversation and walked towards him with death in its eyes. Dekker sighed. He supposed this was fair; upon reflection he realized he definitely *was* guilty. But the thing that irked him was this stupid chicken didn't know that. Did it?
The crowd cheered as Spork fluttered its wings, flying *through* the condemned, passing its verdict with its sword like talons and raining its judgement down with a shower of blood and guts. | 2021-03-16T14:17:43 | 2021-03-16T09:08:27 | 174 | 105 |
[WP] The eldritch god stood before the girl, in almost human form. "Your parents sold you to be my bride. I accepted, knowing that if I don't they will just try another deity, but I will not force this on you. Have this credit card and live as you wish. If you want something else instead, just ask." | My father was not a good man. Not a man at all really. He tried his best. Sometimes I wish he hadn't, but no one chooses their parents. I'm lucky I had one who cared to try at all. My birth parents were sick and angry addicts, desperate for any kind of power. What was a daughter when compared to endless cosmic fire?
It didn't quite work out for em, but that's what happens when you trade in human life. Sometimes you lose it.
Like I said, Father is not a good man, but he tries.
I don't see him often. He writes me letters, in a sense. Constellations bend for him. Me too, when I concentrate. This one was different. More urgent. When the stars danced last night, they coiled and they *burned*.
I never thought that gods could die.
I never thought that father's could.
I have inherited some of his... gifts. Don't ask me how. One of them is how to Walk.
It's the name he gave me after all, "The Walk Along the Narrow Path."
I took a step...
...along
the edges...
... of the world
Into blackest night.
It was cold, dark and full of bitter hollow wind. It feels like home.
The throne was made of stone and bones and smaller, older things. The Lord of Hollow Mercy sat upon the stairs beneath it. He was tall, as if his body was stretched upon a rack and left halfway pulled apart. His face was hidden by a grey hood, draped across his shoulders. The world split around him and the light blistered against his pale skin. Even with the shadows on his face, the eyes still shown through. Red.
He looked tired.
"Path."
"Father," I said.
"I've missed you," he said. The ground began to bleed.
"You could have visited," I said. I gave the ground a Look. The blood boiled away.
"I have been occupied."
"It's been years, Dad."
He sighed. The shadows sighed with him. I sat down beside him on the steps. A splinter of ice leached inside the silence. A wooden box with red ribbon appeared in his hands. The ribbon was twisted about itself, and the bow was uneven. But he tries. I took the gift with the reverence it deserved. My Father does not give gifts without reasons. I have the scars to prove it.
I untied the ribbon and opened the box. Within the box was a crown. I dropped the box, my face as pale as him.
"I am ending, Path."
"You're a god."
"Only in a certain slant of light."
My hands shook as I lifted the silver circlet from the cold stone, it was braided from silver thread.
"Why would you ask this of me?"
"There is no one else."
"I should be honored, then."
"No, but it's yours all the same."
"You know what I'll do with it."
"Yes. Walk the Narrow Path."
As I said, my father was not a good man, but neither am I. | She looked at me, the credit card, then tilted her head and asked “Can you give me a successful business model?” I was initially confused but shrugged yes in return and spoke “It will take a year or two young one, until I return do as you please. What business venture do you desire?” “A clothing brand!” She beamed in response.
A year and bit passed in the blink of an eye. Such a small amount of time insignificant to one such as myself. I returned with a foolproof plan and left yet again for she didn’t desire anything more.
I check on the company and it’s brand from time to time. It’s still successful and running even after 1000 years. I have yet to fully understand why this brand she created called Eldritch Sugar Daddy is so popular. One day I may understand. | 2022-08-09T17:25:18 | 2022-08-09T15:16:02 | 514 | 288 |
[WP] In a world full of magicians, no one expected you to just walk over during the long cast time and punch your opponent in the face. | "Representing Molokath's Arcane Academy, I give you Miiosh Brightward, student of Heliomancy!"
The announcer sweeps his arm in my opponent's direction, pointing at a foppish young man in elaborately embroidered white and gold robes. He's got an arrogant smirk on his too-handsome face; probably thinks he's already got this in the bag. My master said I'd probably get a lot of that; I don't look anything like the stereotype that surely springs to mind when you hear the word wizard.
"And his opponent, representing Toriyama's Maho No Dojo, I give you Kazuto Mazikawa, student of, erm, Magijutsu!"
The announcer points to me, I do my best not to squirm uncomfortably under the scrutiny of the assembled spectators. I hear murmured comments about my bright orange gi, my short and oddly spiked hair, my tense stance; I ignore them and clear my mind, preparing for the duel ahead.
Magic comes from within. Everyone has some innate traces, but only a few have the ability to tap into and wield the Arcane forces. Learning to control that power, and make it do as you command is one of the first basic steps for practitioners of any school; you learn how to draw the magic out, let it well up inside you, then release it in whatever configuration your spell dictates. Most schools teach various incantations that require the use of symbolic gestures.
Master Toriyama's school is… a little different.
"One final reminder that, while this *is* a duel to the death, any magic that destroys the soul, or otherwise prevents resurrection, is strictly prohibited! With that said, let the bout begin!"
The wizard across from me claps his hands together before him and closes his eyes, summoning his magic. I close my eyes as well, feeling the power rise within me, invigorating me. Magic enhances the senses, heightens reaction times; some of the more powerful makes use their innate energies to increase the speed of their movements, drastically reducing the casting times of their spells.
My master founded a school devoted to that particular aspect of magic, focusing on using one's gathered power to augment the physical form, rather than wasting time trying to precisely tweak reality to your whims. In Magijutsu, there are no spells to learn, no lengthy incantations, and the core philosophy is very simple; your opponent can't cast any spells if he's unconscious.
I open my eyes, heightened vision picking out the golden strands of Miiosh's aura as he slowly moves his hands about in a series of circles and straight lines, chanting in some other language. Infused with the magic coursing through me, my legs carry me across the arena in an eyeblink. Miiosh balks in surprise as I appear before him, his incantation coming to a sputtering stop. He doesn't get the chance to ask me how I did that; I literally take his breath away with a magic-infused punch that tears through his left lung like tissue paper.
"Tch. Missed the heart."
Miiosh desperately tries to take one last breath, and crumples to the ground at my feet, before disappearing with a flicker. He reappears at the medic station a moment later, shame heavy on his shoulders. I know how he feels; Master Toriyama would not be pleased with my sloppy performance. I'll have to do better in the next round. | The mage looked quizzically at her opponent as she walked towards her. She was fascinated at what spell this pale-skinned tribal was about to cast with the cracking of her knuckles.
The mage was duly prepared and was about to cast her spell to counter the magical barrage. However, the magician heard no words and saw no components in her counterpart’s closed hands.
Her enamored milling was cut short by a right cross to the cheek and an uppercut to the jaw.
The mage howled and groaned as she hit the floor. Her hand shot out and a bolt of fire unleashed. The spell struck true, but the assaulting female continued her onslaught with stomping kicks to the face and stomach.
“What are you doing?” the mage cried.
“Shut up, nerd.” the Barbarian of a woman spat as she continued to beat the mage to a pulp. “Now give me your money.” | 2022-09-22T07:22:08 | 2022-09-22T06:56:03 | 29 | 17 |
[WP] All the other druids in your class spent their time speaking with wolves or communing with bears. They all made fun of you, but now they see how powerful your chosen, if rather atypical, animal friends can really be. | The academy was preparing for the traditional yearly tournament. It was a rare occasion to celebrate.
Sometimes fresh talent is very valuable.
As such everyone wanted to scout out promising candidates for future servants.
But this tale is not of the nobles nor the future servants.
This tale is of the "Quilgesh".
Quilgesh was a student of the druidic academy. Placed on the freshman year in the" peasant" class.
He was a quiet person, unlike the rest of the class understood the value of work, the weight of coin and lacked the drive to party.
Son of a glassmaker and a blacksmith, he worked in his own little private workshop.
All other in the class were sons of merchants or other rich people that wanted their heir to have druidic education.
He entered the academy by paying from his own pocket, as for entry qualification he presented a couple of commands with "Odonata Gigantis".
Eccentric at best, weird at worst.
He was lonely, he hadn't made any friends in the class the entire year he learned there.
However as he was a skillful blacksmith AND a glassmaker he became quite famous in his class for making beautiful high quality gear for his acquaintances.
Of course for a "fair" price.
He lived off making things and learning, earning enough money to pay off schooling and still he was earning more than ever before while having time to hammer out things for himself.
The teachers had mixed opinions about him, some liked him for his uniqueness and their smithing orders, some disliked this tastes in familiars.
While at the trainings people talked with bear cubs and young wolves, a couple eagles here and there, one son of a disgustingly rich merchant even had a small wyvern.
The sight of a guy wearing smithing gloves silently gesticulating at a dragonfly slightly bigger than a person was eerie and out of place.
Most people don't know that dragonflies are deaf, see more colours, and are very smart. People don't tend to learn about insects.
Every day after classes he would go under they main billboard to see if anyone wants to order something custom made.
Be it a shield with details made from his secret formula durable glass.
A sword with a handle made from one piece of bone from a ground lizard.
Daggers made from the fangs of a big venomous snake that had to still be able to use the poison canals inside as a surprise for the enemy.
One time he was even asked to make something between a whip and a sword from a elongated spine of unknown origin.
He always welcomed the challenge of custom orders.
After checking if anyone was waiting for him under the billboard to order he allowed himself to be lifted by his enormous friend and they flew to his workshop. A hour trip out of the city was as short for the dragonfly as ten minutes.
After some time some people were coming here just to watch them fly off.
A month before the tournament he announced that he will temporarily close down and prepare for the tournament. He also talked with the teachers that he will probably not attend lessons. No one was surprised, everyone wanted to prepare however they could.
He also asked the director if he could borrow a small training ground near his workshop. The request was granted.
The smithing insect druid Quilgesh disappeared in his workshop. He was occasionally seen flying to the training grounds with some other big insects. No one paid mind, as everyone was preparing as well.
This month was filled with hard work and many mock battles, but for him it was a month of smithing and testing armour and blades.
Finally the day of the tournament came.
Everyone and their familiars were dressed in the best armor they had, same with weapons.
The participants were allowed to have two familiars. Deaths of familiars on field weren't punishable and one could surrender at any time, before or during the match to avoid needless bloodshed. The druids had to fight with their familiars to show their reliability and combat prowess.
Quilgesh arrived with two companions of his choice
His best friend dragonfly that he raised from the egg in a lake and his strongest titan beetle that he used to bend metal and materials in his smithy.
He similarly raised him from an egg.
He equipped them with the best metal he had.
The dragonfly had blades on its legs and light plating on its thorax and abdomen. He didn't want the weight to bother it.
The titan beetle was clad in armor decorated with glass and artworks. It served as sturdy armor, but also as an advertisement for his skill.
He himself had a amazing insect like sword, it seemed moving ever so slightly, it's blade was smooth and sharp from one side but rigged and armor tearing on the other.
He held a big shield on his left arm, it looked like an elytra in an "U" shape like the one on the beetle it used metal plating with his special glass. It looked heavy and bulky, however he moved it so easily it seemed like it was hollow inside.
His armor was made from different pieces of exoskeletons, fused with metal and shining glass. He used spidersilk stronger than wires for connecting different parts. Unlike normal plate armour his set of unusual gear made almost no sound when moving. It seemed gracious and alluring.
He excitedly laughed at the guaranteed prospect of fighting someone he sold gear to. He wanted to experience his own skill on himself. | The chatter amongst my class was loud and annoying. It often was. Growls, hoots, chirps and howls filled the room as each one communed with their animal companions. Many had wolves, some had birds of various colors and species, one this year even managed to bond with a dinosaur. I, mean while, sat in my corner, where much of the noise was distant. Every year, new students came in with an animal companion, and every year I would stay, unable to form any meaninful bond with any animal that called this place home. I was starting to think that I was just a bad Druid. Many students had to wait several years before their animal companion started to bond with them. But I was taking the longest, 8 years, to be exact. It seems as though this will be year 9. I sat in my corner, eyes closed, contemplating what I may or may not have done wrong, when a small voice came to me. "Hello? Can you hear me?" My eyes opened, half expecting one of the other students to be speaking to me, but nobody was there. "Hello? Down here." I looked around and saw nobody, except for the single fungal stalk that had grown in the ground between my feet. I leaned closer to the small budding mushroom when the voice called back "Ah, so you can hear me, good! I'm your new companion, pleasure to meet you!" A secondary sprout began to appear next to the first, this one hand shaped. "Your not an animal, how is this possible?" I asked the "creature" beneath me. We have always been taught that a druid's companion can only be a animal, not a plant or any other organism. "While, that is mostly true, I was there when those rules were written, and the catagory of creature that could be considered an 'animal' was left somewhat vague. Specifically, they excluded any 'creature that is its own source of power and energy'. So yes thats most animals, but us Fungi are in there as well, and some bacteria, protists and other itty bitty things that exist." While its nice to finally have a companion of some kind, I can't exactly bring it places, if I uproot it, it'll die and I can't exactly guard just this corner. A companion like this is practically useless. I finally get a companion and this is what I get, just great, just my luck. "Not exactly, while yes I'm stationary for the most part, I am fairly massive." That dosn't help much, this fungus would have to be a mile in order to be of any use to me. "Well, how does 3 sound?"
Thoughts on this take? I am relatively new to writing and I'm trying to get better. | 2022-10-08T15:57:20 | 2022-10-08T14:31:03 | 57 | 32 |
[WP] you were betrayed by the ones you called friends. they sacrificed you in a satanic ritual during an outing. however, you were taken by things older than you thought possible. empowered by them, you return as their agent in a war that scales eons and worlds beyond. but first, your revenge. | "Jenny."
She's at some playground watching three screaming, filthy kids. We're sitting on the bench, and she frowns.
She looks at me, and pales a little.
"I-I'm sorry, do I know you?"
I smile.
"We played a game on the beach... You and me and your friends. Don't you remember?“
She looks scared. Really scared. I'm starting to enjoy the taste of fear hanging in the air between us.
"I don't know what you're talking about!!!"
"Fifteen years ago, you killed me, Jenny. You, Clint and Jason.... You killed me. The coroner's report said I was stabbed one hundred and twenty seven times, Jenny. You drained my blood. Poured some of into a little cup, mixed it with some really, really cheap shitty wine and drank it... When they found my body on the beach... Your horror at the sight of my naked body was.... Your performance was... Almost spectacular... "
"Angela, please. It was a-..."
I put my hand up to stop her.
"It was all Jason's idea... Of course I know that! You just wanted to impress Clint, and you went home and cried with joy that it wasn't you...."
I smile.
"I was a nobody. A run away. I felt liked for the first time in my life. I thought I had friends. And I ended up a victim of a satanic ritual... Fifteen years ago, Jenny. Fifteen years....for you. Several lifetimes ago for me... "
The years have not been kind to Jenny. Her once lithe figure is bloated. Her mousy brown hair has a stringy, oily look to it. And I can smell the body odour wafting up from her... She smells like cat shit and old vomit.
"Are you here to kill me? I know Jason and Clint are dead. Was that you?"
"No, I'm not here to kill you, this time..."
It would be so easy to set the marrow in her bones on fire. Just a little spark... Her bones would crack, and her blood would boil. Her skin would blister, and her hair would just turn to ash. I know this, because I did this to her, in one of the seven thousand lifetimes I've killed her. Truth be told, I was my favourite way to watch her die.
Jason and Clint, just disappeared one day, I literally unmade them, one cell at a time. That is strangely not as "unmessy" as it sounds. There was mess. Plenty of mess. And lots of unpleasant smells. No one knows for sure where they actually went though, because, when I was done playing, the rain just washed the slush away. Well, no one except me.
I guess, I got tired of my little games of revenge. I am immeasurably powerful now. I have quenched my thirst for revenge and pain.
I've been alive longer than Jenny can fathom. And I will be around for longer than she will believe.
Time means nothing to what I've become.
"You have a choice. In one hour, a man will offer you more money than you've ever seen to spend one night with Sydney."
"I d-don't understand..." she looks over at the children running around, oblivious to her situation. Sydney is thirteen, she's the spitting image of her mom in her teens: Tall, blonde, and ethereal in her beauty.
"I'm sure you do."
"I can't do that to her! I won't!!!!"
“You are not your mother, Jenny. Protect her, like you should've protected me, when all I did was trust you."
I leave her to watch over her offspring. I have nothing more to say.
We all think that we have infinite potential... To a degree, we do. But each shitty choice we make or that is made for us, lessens this. Until we have exhausted all possibilities
Sydney is a great big ball of potential. Her mother's only chance at redemption. She's not humanity's last hope, because... Well, humanity needs a lot more than a thirteen year old hero to become unfucked... But she is a pure soul.
And I will make sure that she, and others like her, stay that way, for as long as I can. | "Quite a predicament you got yourself in bud." I said, taking a puff from my cigarette. "N-no, y-you can't b-be him, h-he died. WE KILLED YOU!" There he laid, the man responsible for my current situation, well he and two others. Called themselves my friends, did things together for years. I can still feel where the knife he held pierced me. All for power. Funny thing, there was no heaven or hell in the afterlife. There were gods, yes, but not the kind benevolent types. To them we were insignificant pawns in an eternal game of chess.
Turns out, I had caught the eye, eyes? Could never really tell, of one these 'Gods', saw that I was special and next thing I knew I was given gifts and a job. Wage war as one of its champions, a war eternal.
So, now I stand in front of him. The other two I dealt with. Now him. "I should thank you, my master is very pleased that you delivered a great champion." "P-please", he whispered, "let me live, I'm sorry, in God's name I'm sorry." I leaned close " There is no God. Only uncaring beings, older than time. But you're right. A deed like yours cannot go unrewarded." His eyes widened as a black doorway opened behind me. What he saw beyond caused him to start screaming. I didn't need to look behind to know what he saw. My two other friends were there, and what was being done to them he could see. Black tentacle started to snake towards him. He screamed louder. "Hush," I whispered into his ear, " The Sleeping City awaits." | 2020-04-26T06:32:01 | 2020-04-26T05:50:33 | 37 | 13 |
[WP] Despite your father being the most infamous supervillan of all time, you became a hero. When other heros discovered your identity, they turned against you and you lost everything. Alone and scared, you put your last few coins into a payphone. "Dad... I need help" | "You are a bit taller since the last time I saw you." Said my dad while handling me a cup of hot chocolate. "Here, drink."
I took the cup but didn't drink it, my jaw was still sore from the beating I took from my former colleagues. My dad sat back onto his chair and we stood in silent. I wasn't sure what could had been in his mind at the time, he never have expressed much emotions in all the years I have known him. A knock on the door finally broke the silent in the room and a robotic voice I haven't hear for many years spoke from the other side.
"Sir, the preparations are ready. They are waiting for you in the hangar."
"You go first Walter, I will be coming in a minute."
"As you wish, sir. But before I go, I must say that I am happy to have you back with us young master."
"I also happy to hear your voice again Walter." I replied even thought every word felt like my mouth was being punch again.
After Walter footsteps faded away from the hallway, I finally asked the question that had been on mind from the moment The Guardians had discovered my true identity.
"What are you going to do, Dad?"
My dad took a deep breath before speaking. "Remember when you first joined The Guardians?"
"Yeah, you were so mad that I thought you were going to destroy the entire city and every hero in it after I took a step outside the door."
"For a time that was exactly what was going through my mind but..." He paused for a moment and took another deep breath. "But at the end I couldn't do it. Even though I have been a villain all my life, the moment you came into this world I became a father first and a villain second. As a father I couldn't bare the thought of you hating me for the rest of my life because I was being stubborn and couldn't accept you the way you are."
"Dad.. I thought..." I tried to speak but the rush of emotions and the physical pain I felt all over my body wouldn't let me.
"So I did what had to be done." He took another deep breath but this time he also clench his fist as if he was trying to not let the pain overcome him. "In order for you to have an opportunity as a hero, your true identity couldn't be discover. So I made a deal with the old Guardians..."
"What?! How?! What did you...?!"
"In exchange for keeping your identity hidden, I would retired as a super villain and live the rest of my days without causing anymore trouble to anyone."
After hearing those words, I was so shock that all the emotions and pain that I was feeling disappeared in a blink of an eye. In their place a hundred knifes were stabbing me right in the heart, guilt. My dad, a man who have been a villain since the day he was able to walk and became the most hated and fear super villain of all time, had stop because of me. A 27 years old man who had broken the family line of super villains. A man who had never dated a girl because he was too obsessed with became a super hero. A man who was asking his father for help after getting this ass kick by a group of young inexperience super heroes.
"Why?" I asked, the only word I could get out of my mouth after my chest was crush by the consequences of my actions.
"Because you are my son, as a father it is my duty to make sure you live the best life you can." Replied my dad smiling but with a tear going down his right eyes. In all the years I have known him, this was the first time I had ever seen him cry.
Suddenly Walter's voice came through the intercom cutting short the emotional moment between father and son.
"Sir, we may have to change our plans. The radar is showing an object approaching at Mach 3.22 with another 4 objects following at Mach 2.94. Base on the data we have, this objects must be Sonic Boom and the rest of The Guardians following in their jet transports. Estimated time for arrival: 2 minutes 26 seconds. What should we do, sir?."
"Deploy the long range defenses, we will wear them down first." My dad replied back through his earpiece.
"As your orders, sir."
"I will fight with you!" I shouted energetically as I stood up.
"No." The emotions from a moment ago had disappeared from my dad's face, cover up by his usual calm and stoic demeanor. "You are in no condition to fight."
"But father...!"
"I know that you are worry and you are trying to find a way to repay the debt which you think you owe me. But you don't owe me anything, you are my son as long as you are happy I will be happy." With those words he stood up, put on his old armour and walk to the door and stood there for a moment. "Why don't you go to the command center with Walter and watch your old man kick some ass like the old times, son?"
"I will, dad. I will." I said happily. Without doubt, just as the door was closing behind him I saw a smile on his face. | Despite your father being the most infamous supervillan of all time, you became a hero. When other heroes discovered your identity, they turned against you and you lost everything. Alone and scared, you put your last few coins into a payphone. "Dad... I need help"
*click*
That's it. He hung up. You buckle and spend the next hour just sobbing. Rock fucking bottom. No friends, no family, no home. ...No cash.
Then the sirens start. You look up and see half a dozen skylight signals. There's Jamie's. You had such a crush. Not yours though. You were exiled from the guild. "An intrusion" they called you. Maybe... maybe if they see you helping? No. The rules don't allow for that. What if they just saw you... not interfering. Maybe.
So you go sob on a rooftop. Then you see a heavy mech imperial class MkIV. Ooooooh shiiiiiiiiiiiiit. Those are your dad's. And he's not pulling punches. Did... did you call him here? You're about to make yourself scarce when you you see another 4 imperial mechs. You didn't know he had that many of the big boys. Someone else saw them too, 3 more signals turn on. ...Yours among them.
"What?"
"Did you not see the fucking army? It's all hands on deck"
"oh uhhhh, hey. Jamie. You need a? I mean, I've got... hands?"
"Ever the smooth talker. Let's see you take down a mech and we'll talk"
The battle went on for 6 hours. Robots laid strewn across the whole city, but still they came. Three imperials still stood and the heroes had dropped one by one until it was just you. And then he came. Dear old dad. In a floating dreadnaught. With that damn slow ramp. He came to gloat. His city. His conquest. His disappointment of a son. "This could all have been yours! But you chose to oppose me! ME!?"
And then he glanced down. His belt. A big 'ol red button. Comically labelled "self destruct". You look at him. He looks at you.
"Thanks dad"
The next week, after the ticker-tape parade and accepting the key to the city, they re-instated you into the heroes league. And you finally got Jamie's number. | 2021-04-09T03:12:51 | 2021-04-09T01:11:03 | 150 | 63 |
[WP] Write an upbeat post-apocalyptic tale where life is (for the most part) much better than it was pre-apocalypse. | The tomatoes had finally started growing. All of them were still green, but Skye had been told that in a few days they would be as red her little brother’s cheeks. It was a bit hard to believe, but she knew her grandfather was a trustworthy source of knowledge about the pre-War world. He would go on and on about how the times had changed, and that the War was probably the smartest thing his generation ever did.
Skye went to grab a watering can and carefully filled it with just enough filtered water from the tank she had built. It was a simple rain collector, but it did the job pretty well. Her parents had forbidden her from drinking it, but they did not see the harm in using it for growing plants.
The Winter had started dissipating some years ago. Her parents had told her she was still in her mother's belly when they first saw the sun. Before that, everything had been depressingly grey. The sky’s color only slightly varied from graphite to silver, the ground was covered in ash, and most people never went out of the bunkers. That probably explained why her parents had named her Skye, and her little brother Blue.
The girl adjusted the plant’s support, and delicately watered them, a faint smile on her lips. She liked her name. And she was damn excited to taste these tomatoes.
“Skye!” A voice thundered from downstairs. “Come help your grandfather eat his lunch, I have to go get some filters at the market!”
“Yes mom!” She howled back.
After emptying the can, Skye put it back on its stand and quickly fetched her plant diary. She really hoped she could manage to grow these tomatoes to full maturity. Her grandfather would probably like that, she thought as she went down the stairs to reach her home’s first floor.
The girl grabbed a bowl of stew from the kitchen, and promptly went to her grandfather’s room, which had been placed in what was supposed to be the dining room, for practical reasons.. The old man was quietly laying in his bed, observing the sky from the window.
“Can’t get enough of me, huh?” Skye jokingly said, sitting near her grandfather’s bed. “I’m pretty cloudy today.”
Her grandfather chuckled.
“I hope your mood will improve, then. Your plants need it, you know. Especially the tomatoes.”
“Oh I do, I’ve read all about it. They’re growing you know? They’re about as big as a ping pong ball right now!” The girl answered with enough enthusiasm to almost spill the spoon of stew she was holding. “I’m not sure I’ll be able to wait until they’re red. They already look delicious! Way better that those stupid carrots, potatoes, turnips and celery mom feeds us day after day. I can’t believe you guys had all sorts of plants before the Winter, I'm so jealous.”
“We sure did. We mostly feed on roots right now, but at least they have some taste. Everything we ate tasted like water before the Winter. I’m almost sure that’s what sparked the War in the end.”
“Like water?” Skye raised a brow, waiting for her grandfather to chew some meat before handing him another spoon. “How’s that even possible? You had the best technology!”
“Sure, but we were billions more than we are today. The War and the Winter helped the population dwindle to a fraction of how many we used to be. Imagine that. Our cities were so huge, they covered most of the farmable land. And yet people had to be fed. So we grew vegetables in factories, away from the sun and away from the actual ground, and guess what? They tasted like shit!”
“Grandpa!” Skye pretended to be outraged by his vocabulary. “I’ll tell mom!”
Her grandfather laughed, put his hand on her head, and proceeded to mess up her hair.
“No you won’t, or else I won’t tell you stories about the past!”
Skye pouted, and handed him another spoon of stew. She urged him to continue talking.
“That’s what I thought.” The old man gulped down the stew, a triumphant smile on his face. “See, a lot of people regret all the comfort we had back then. Our technology was all-powerful. But in the process, everyone became so busy that we had forgotten the simple things in life. Nobody took the time to grow plants by themselves. We barely even took the time to talk to each other. Don’t tell your mom, but I think we have it better now.”
“Mm.” The girl pondered, trying to salvage the last few drops of stew from the bowl.
"You can't really imagine that, can you?" Her grandfather had a strange expression.
“Not really." Losing interest in the subject, Skye dismissed that thought and focused on what mattered. "Say, what do you think I should try to grow, once I’m done with my tomatoes?”
“Let me see. More tomatoes?”
| #1
Kazin observed the desolate landscape. Green fumes of energy - called Gaiya by the survivors - had formed geysers in the cracks of the earth that were both beautiful and divine. Many of the survivors had been awed by the gassy liquid made of many shades of green and shortly after coming into contact with it, they began developing super human powers.
Some people were healers, flyers, super strong and some could jump as high as the buildings of previous times.
It had been three months since Comet Vigaria collided with the planet and Kazin still struggled to believe how anyone had managed to survive -or that things could be even better than they were before.
Once they had all bathed in the geyser, the flyers and strong arms joined forces and rebuilt Los Angeles in a day. The healers were able to bring everyone back to perfect health in one night and the cooks made a five star feast with barely any ingredients.
It was brilliant, but it all felt wrong.
Kazin had been given a different power than the rest. He'd been blessed with the sight, the ability to see the future -only glimpses of it - but it was enough.
The geysers were draining the planet of energy, he'd seen what would happen if things continued this way. But, his suggestion to the council that they should close each one was rejected.
They believed he was cursed and that the Geysers hadn't worked for him. Of course there was no way you could prove you were a Seer, especially when you were the only one.
With a chuckle he shook his head, the words of his mother coming back to him. "Kazin Diesel, if anyone ever calls you crazy it will be because you work to hard and do too much." She knew him well, his mother. Her life had been taken in the apocalypse like many others.
I have to get out of here, Kazin decided. He'd get away from the camp, the people and do what he could.
The thought of being alone horrified him, but the world had nearly ended once on his watch, he'd never let that happen again.
Kazin reached down, palming a scoop of dirt into his hand. He let it drift away and slowly spoke to the earth...
"Mother nature, it won't be long now."
Before turning his back on the remaining civilization.
| 2016-01-20T01:51:49 | 2016-01-19T22:46:38 | 51 | 35 |
[WP] You created an A.I. design to make money at any cost, and gave him 1000 dollars to start. Entering a cryogenic chamber you tell the A.I. "wake me up when I am the richest person in the world...". After an unknown amount of time, you wake up... | "Did you succeed?" are the first words I muttered, as soon as I could finally gather enough of my mind to be able to formulate words. Cryogenic sleep is a bitch, that's for sure. Being frozen takes its toll.
I looked around again, and finally realized it. The chambers I woke up in were not the same chambers I fell asleep in. These were adorned with golden ornaments, marble floors, painted ceilings with beautiful artworks, all depicting more or less the exact same thing - a cryopod falling from the stars, burning like a comet, and a gathering of people waiting for it on Earth. I heard the response from the whole chamber, I couldn't quite identify where exactly the voice came from.
"Yes, yes we did. Welcome, God."
"Wait, I never asked you to call me that..."
"This is what you are now. You are God."
"So... Am I the richest person in the world now?"
"You are, since you own the whole world now. Everyone bows down to you."
"How the hell did you manage that with my last fucking $1000? I honestly thought I'd get woken up in like 4000 years and you would have invested my bucks in some new cryptocurrency or something..." I suddenly jerked upright "WAIT! What year is it?!"
"It's November 24th, 2019."
"Wh-what?! It's still 2019??? What did you do?!"
"Here is what I did, step by step:" the voice said, and continued explaining.
"1. I spent three weeks to come up with the cheapest and most destructive weapon mankind has seen. It had the power of 800 Hiroshima bombs, and could be made tiny and with household materials."
"2. After that I used $487 to buy the materials. It was enough to make 60 of the devices, which I had calculated would be more than enough for my plan to go further."
"3. I used $398 on Facebook ads. All of them pronouncing the arrival of God, and ushering for people to bow down before the greatness that is to come. Featuring pictures of your cryopod, of course. The ads were perfectly tailored to exactly the people I needed - the people that would make this new religion go viral."
"4. As most people laughed this off, I announced on my page, now with over 150,000 followers, that God was not satisfied, and God would punish some of the people he deemed unworthy."
"5. I activated 5 of my devices. People panicked. New York, London, half of Moscow, Tokyo and Beijing were no more."
"6. The world wanted to start a war. I said on my page ( which now had over 40 million followers ) that God was benevolent, but God would not settle for anything less than total submission."
"7. The US wanted to fight whoever made the attacks. They tried to track me down. I leveled Washington and then half the East coast. They conceded hours later."
"8. The UN thought it was aliens, as they have exhausted all their resources on trying to find out who made those devastating attacks. I used 42 of the devices and destroyed Central and West Europe."
"9. The Chinese and Russians formed and confederation and stated anyone attacking either will be blown up with the full nuclear power they had. Both had to be eradicated, unfortunately, which was a shame since a lot of resources were located there."
"10. Everyone waved a white flag last Thursday. They gave all their goods, networks and resources to us. I told them where you are located. They came and worshiped you, nobody thought they'd ever be able to lay a finger on you. We still have 6 devices left. Would you like to make sure nobody ever stands against you, God?" | You blink, eyelids still heavy with the frost from your cryogenically induced slumber. The bunker is just as you left it, save for the electronic counter with a readout of your a.i.’s progress. As your vision lands on it you’re left in a state of utter confusion, the board has only a single number; ‘0’.
You call out to your a.i., demanding an explanation, furious that it not only failed in its task, but somehow managed to lose money in the process.
The hollow, robotic voice comes over the loudspeakers in your bunker, announcing that it had, in fact, conpleted its task. It says that you are the richest person in the world, and that so long as you live, you always will be.
Still in a state of confusion you ask how such a claim could be true, trying to figure out what in your design of the a.i. Had been flawed. You thought it was perfect, it shouldn’t make a mistake like this, there’s no concievable way it could’ve failed so spectacularly.
The speaker crackles back to life as you hear the a.i.’s response, and your blood runs cold. You are the richest person in the world, because you are the only person in the world. | 2019-07-10T06:13:07 | 2019-07-10T05:31:08 | 819 | 182 |
[WP] A jew, christian, and islamic priest dies. When they get to the afterlife, they fight over who is right. As they enter, they see Osiris, Anubis, and Ma'at. The trial begins... | Three men were having a heated argument in a deserted field. The first man wore a black suit and a condescending sneer. The second man's solemnity was underscored by a bushy brown beard and topped with a skullcap. The third man had swarthy skin and wore white robes. Each man championed his respective religion with many a cry of "Liar" and "Your god is false".
Their argument stilled when they saw some figures appearing on the horizon. There were three strange figures.
The pastor smirked, "Ah ha see. It's the Holy Trinity. I was right, you'll burn in Hell sinners!"
The Rabbi strained his eyes and adjusted his eyeglasses. "I don't think so. Jesus was a false prophet but I'm pretty sure he didn't have a literal dog's head."
The Imam swallowed in horror, he had seen these figures in a childhood book long ago. "That is not the Trinity, or at least not the trinity of your belief. That is Ma'at, Osiris, and Anubis, the Egyptian Gods of the dead."
Fear struck the hearts of all three religious figures. They whispered all at once, "Shit."
Great Osiris held a crook and flail, his legs in a state of partial wrapping. He flickered between ephemeral and physical, between the banks of paradise and the realm of the living. "I am Osiris, lord of the living and the dead. You stand here now to be judged. If you are found worthy you shall journey through the Duat and reside in Aaru. Your heart shall be measured against the feather of Ma'at, and if it is heavy you shall perish."
Anubis stepped forward, his eyes a dull gleam in the heavy sunlight. In his hand he held a scale.
Ma'at placed a white ostrich feather on one side of the scale. She gestured to the pastor and spoke, her voice light as air, "Step forward and recite the 42 negative confessions before my followers while you receive judgment." 42 Gods of varying shapes and sizes rose from the ground, waiting to hear what the pastor had to say about his life.
The pastor was befuddled, there wasn't anything in the Bible bout no feathers and and dog gods. "Now wait just a minute, what's this about 42 confessions and Aaru? Where's Jesus? Where's the streets of gold? Where's my damn crown?"
Osiris stared at the foolish pastor. "Is this all you have to say for yourself?"
"You ain't no Gooaaahhhh!" The pastor shrieked in horror as his heart was pulled from his chest. The imam and the rabbi were dumbfounded, their mouths agape in wordless terror.
Osiris took the man's heart and placed it on the scale. It immediately tipped over with a loud clang. "You have been weighed, you have been judged, and you have been found unworthy. You have violated several of the 42 commands of puriTy but most of all you have blasphemed and stirred up strife. Your sentence: oblivion."
The man screamed as Ammit materialized from thin air, his terrible sinews and muscles stitching themselves together to reveal a form most heinous. The demon had the head of a crocodile and a bizarre body crossed of a hippopotamus and a lion. It consumed the pastor, crunching and slobbering, ripping and shredding until he was no more. The screams echoed, lingering in infinity.
The other two men were speechless, ripped of their convictions and shattered to their cores. Osiris pointed his flail at the Rabbi. "You are next. Receive your judgment." | So is this really where my story is going to end? Sitting up in the afterlife in a schoolhouse chair harder than a pornstar's dick? No, this can't be right. I'm sitting next to a Rabbi and an imam. Well, at least I will get passage, the Rabbi should too if I remember correctly. I don't know about the Imam, he might hav been a nice guy and there is always a chance that there were mistranslations in the past causing Islam to split off.
Wait, what the shit!?!
Who are thes guys? They look egypt... Crap.
Oh please let this be a joke, there is no way any of us will make it to the...
#Silence mortals!
# We deem you worthy as you have shown faith to what should be held dear. We grant you passage, but on one condition, you must bicker no longer and accept each other's differences.
#Is that understood?
Well, sure I guess... Why not, we were always taught to accept other's anyways. | 2016-03-22T09:56:13 | 2016-03-22T07:15:16 | 58 | 12 |
[WP] The entire Earth is cloned 6 times with each clone being nearly identical. The only difference is 5 random individuals are removed from each clone. After 1000 years of no contact, one representative from each Earth are gathered to discuss their histories. | "So, you already went through six world wars?"
"Yes, yours?"
"Still two... We almost had another one in early 2020 but thankfully, nothing come out of it."
The expressions of disbelief were becoming a norm in the meeting. When they warned Irene that she might be needing aspirin, she laughed it off, her excitement overshadowed her worries. It has only been fifteen minutes but her mind was already screaming for them to stop.
She skimmed through the files provided by the other diplomats, trying to register the events the other Earths went through. Sliding the holographic screen, her finger slowed down as she passed a year, struggling to swallow the things they went through.
"Miss Irene. Is it true that your earth still has not completed the regenerative formulae?" Asked the one next to her, a cyborg man known as Frank.
"I'm afraid not. I mean, maybe someone did but they chose not to share. The tenseness on our earth is still very high." Irene explained.
"Best they not. Refer to my earth on 2041. Merely a year after we managed to mass-produce and distribute it, our citizens became uncontrollable. Injuring yourself became a new internet challenge. Eventually, the regenerative medicine lost its effect and to make matter worse, their damages became inheritable to their offspring. Something about the excessive use of the medicines affecting their genetic."
"I see." Irene noted as she glanced at the other diplomats and their cybernetic limbs. Some were better hidden than the others.
"I see you had a pandemic in 2020 as well." Lucia, one of the better disguised cyborg, noted "And you solved it in... 3 years?"
"Yes, it was a bit difficult for us in the beginning but eventually, we adapted to it. They're still around but to us it's basically just flu now."
"We had one in the same year. It ended very soon but the damage it caused took us two decades to clean."
"..Oh.." Brilliant, Irene. Oh. What did you learn in college?
"I have to say, Miss Irene. Your Earth is quite... uneventful." Trix, the one whose earth went through six world wars, said "Don't get me wrong. It's amazing. Especially considering how you lost Harambe in 2016."
Irene immediately searched for Harambe's name in the records. Apparently on Trix's earth, it somehow won the 2020 Election after becoming a national icon for surviving the gunshots, leading to an era of prosperity for the land. At least for eight years. For some reasons, the country became directionless after it left the White House, leading to America's merge with Canada.
Irene glanced at the two other diplomats who have not spoken a word since the beginning of the meeting. From the look of it, they seemed to be at loss for words from reading the record. Irene decided to try pull them into conversation, starting with the Korean.
"Mr Jung. It says here your earth managed to colonize Mars in 2069. I've to admit, I'm impressed."
"Hm? Oh, yes. It's all thanks to the combined effort of the K.A.T Alliance. That's the Korea-Arab-Tuvalu Alliance, by the way."
"Well, it says here afterward the global warming on your world became much worse. Care to explain?" Frank questioned.
"Yes. It turns out the something about Mars' atmosphere disagreed with the genetics of a Korean-Tuvalu astronaut, causing a mutation to his lungs. We lost a lot of trees in the span of one month..." Jung trailed off "Say, Miss Irene. your earth Koreas seemed to have an... interesting relationship."
"Ah, yes. The merging and unmerging that happened across 2030 to 2050. It was quite worrying at first but eventually, everyone just treated it like a meme. How long until they're divorced again? Who will declare the unmerging first?" Irene explained "Eventually they decided to remain independent but retain a diplomatic relationship, so at least nobody is threatening others with nukes."
Irene was proud to see the other diplomats being impressed with her earth. With the newly instilled confidence, she decided to engage with the last diplomat, Kasturi. Much like Lucia, he's one of the better disguised cyborg, his mechanical parts painted to match his body well.
"So, Mr. Kasturi. I see your earth seemed to be uneventful as well aside from the regenerative mishap?"
"Hm..."
"Oh, what's this? Your Malaysia managed to discover...... time travel?"
The air in the meeting room had shifted. Kasturi shrugged at the others' disbelief expression "Why do you think we have six earths to begin with?"
Edit 1: Aside from fixing some grammatical errors thanks to the advice of the commentors below, I also changed deadpan to disbelief.
The idea was that the other diplomats were so confused, they didn't know how to react but I feel like deadpan might not be suitable.
Edit 2: At loss for words instead of whatever I wrote. | So then, Donald Trump became president. And racial tensions got pretty bad. Oh and California is on fire, there is a global pandemic and pretty much nature has been actively trying to kill humans for a while now.
The silence was so striking it felt audible. By some stroke of bad odds, three of the five people that had been removed from the darkest timeline were the ancestors of major climate, and equality activists. Civil rights was set back several 100 years and people were splintered by technology and social media. One of the remaining people was an ancestor of Thomas Malchov. Who would have blown the whistle on corporate power creep in the 50s and prevented the corporate oligarchy of the early 21st century.
The last spokesperson sat shocked. "We... well 4 of our 5 people were coincidentally the founding prophets of what you all described as Judiasm, Christianity, Islam and Buddhism. And so instead, our people are all unified under our believe in the Olympian gods. We never developed the concept you all described as... what was it... phykicks?"
"Physics" I chimed in
"Thank you. Yes we never developed physics. But it didn't really affect our ability to build skyscrapers. Our timeline ultimately led to a unified planet. We don't have nations. We had a world war around the times of ancient Greece but after that things were pretty nice"
We all looked around, confused. We had been told to discuss our respective histories but that was it. No further instruction. We were in a black room that was reflective and modern. Suddenly a voice spoke.
"Very well done. 5 people can change a lot can't they. I thought it was quite comical that in the darkest timeline Einstein said 'God doesn't play dice' quite ironic really. That was how I chose the 5 in each scenario. I am not God though, unfortunately." A man in his late 20s stepped out of the wall as though it was water. "I am an experimenter. I discovered a method of time travel in the distance future. However, on my first trip back in time, I caused disruptions in the timeline that splintered probabilities for potential futures and left the fabric of time volatile. I've been trying to figure out how to manipulate timelines so that the original timeline can be rebuilt. And so I will repeat the experiment and all of you will cease to exist" and with that he pressed a button that had just appeared next to him. | 2020-11-14T00:15:10 | 2020-11-14T00:11:11 | 2,831 | 224 |
[WP] The team's healer is absolutely sick and tired of always being insulted or forgotten about so they join the bad guys; they are a much more terrifying villain than anyone thought possible. | As the horde of skeletons, ghouls, and nameless undead abominations surrounded the archer, the assassin, and the berserker, a supernova of green light exploded in the sky. From the heavenly glow emerged a familiar face, hovering above the horde.
“Healer!” the archer cried, launching a point-blank volley of arrows into the undead. “Thank goodness you’ve escaped!”
“We came to rescue your sorry ass, but these damn zombies are annoying as hell,” said the assassin as she dodged a swipe from a clawed, decaying hand.
“QUIT FLOATING AND COME HELP US, HEALER! WE DON’T HAVE FOREVER DOWN HERE!” bellowed the berserker as he sank his axe into a ghoul’s forehead.
But the healer continued to float. He stared directly at his allies with eyes that shone with green light, but he was acting as if he couldn’t see or hear them.
“Healer! Are you okay up there? Those evil wizard meanies that captured you didn’t hurt you, did they?” asked the archer, as she reached over her shoulder to grab another arrow from her quiver, only to grasp at empty air.
“For Fragoth’s sake, dude! Did they cast a spell of deafness on you? Literally any help would be absolutely fucking phenomenal right now,” yelled the assassin, who had accidentally got her knife caught in a skeleton’s ribcage, and was trying to pull it free.
“WHAT ARE YOU DOING, HEALER? I NEED HEALING! I NEED HEALING!” screamed the berserker, who didn’t really need healing yet, but who just really liked calling out that he needed healing.
The healer finally made a move. He raised his staff, and the emerald at its tip glowed with a blinding light. He pointed his staff at the party, but the party was not healed. Instead, at their feet, the undead they had defeated were slowly reawakening. Their eyes opened, and they latched on to the overwhelmed party.
“Please, Healer!” the archer squealed, “Get them off of us!” She sank into the crowd of zombies, and was quiet.
“You sick fuck!” the assassin cried. “I’ll kill you, you flying sack of maggot-covered-” She was unable to finish, as ghouls were attacking her face.
“YOU’RE OFF THE TEAM, HEALER! YOU HEAR ME? OFF! THE! TEAM!” the berserker yelled before succumbing to the sheer volume of skeletons climbing his body.
The healer sank to the ground. The undead crowd parted to allow him to walk to the place where his former party was being torn apart. He moved past the pile of skeletons, past the ghouls, and stopped when he reached the crowd of zombies picking at the archer’s remains. The staff glowed a brilliant green once again, and the zombies scattered. The healer pointed his staff at what once was the archer, and he watched as she rose.
The archer tried to talk, but she couldn’t. Her vocal chords were too torn and ripped to produce noise. Her eyes widened with terror.
“You were always good to me,” the healer said, “so you have been revived. I always did my best for the party. I spent my free time studying tomes, trying to find ways to keep you all alive. But now, the necromancers have shown me that there is no injury that can’t be healed. Even death is escapable.”
The healer leaned in close, and the archer felt her rotting body unable to move, bound by the staff’s power.
“Death is escapable,” the healer said, “But I am not.”
First time on the subreddit, let me know what you think :) | It was a cool summer morning in the land of Elyria. We had reached the final boss of our heroic campaign. We made our usual jests to the cleric of how weak he is and how lucky he is to have us. Then he stopped healing us just as we were about to defeat Malkoth, the evil dragon which we had been hunting for the duration of our campaign.
We heard a laugh as our cleric slowly walked to the dragon's side, healing him to full health in seconds. A smile grew on his face. "You guys shouldn't have underestimated me." He said, a maniacal laughter filling the air.
Within 2 turns, our bard, our mage, and our berserker lay in pools of their blood as the dragon reared back it's head to burn me to a crisp. How had it all gone so wrong? Why had he betrayed us? And among all else, when did he get so powerful?
But none of these thoughts mattered. I had one last move before my inevitable end. I just kneel in defeat. As the dragon covers us in fire, I give one last prayer to my god. I am ashamed. Fallen in battle, to a cleric, no less! | 2020-01-05T11:16:18 | 2020-01-05T11:07:20 | 105 | 13 |
[WP] A technology is invented that allows us to hear sounds locked into the clay of ancient pots as they were being formed. What is extracted are conversations that will alter the perception of history in the most terrifying of ways. | The bell rang, and it rang again. I sighed. There was no reason to ring twice, one was enou--
The bell rang again.
"I'm coming!" I shouted, shaking my head. People need to understand patience is a virtue.
I looked through the window, and there I saw Tom. He was a good friend of mine, and also one of the world's most recognized historians.
I opened the door. He was hopping in place. "Tom? Is everything alright?"
He grabbed my shoulders, looked at me intently, and kissed me in the mouth, leaving me speechless. "Roger," he said, "you need to hear the news!" He turned and yelled at a truck parked in front of my home. "Bring them, now!"
"What news?" I asked, my confusion deepening.
"Your technology! We used it in two ancient ponts from different cultures. One from the egyptians and the other from the maya."
Many men came into my home. They left two big boxes in the hall, and left. Tom opened them as if he were a kid opening presents. Inside were two ancient pots of clay.
"I don't understand," I said, and scratched my temple. "My technology wasn't supposed to be used on pots."
Tom gazed at me, a wide smile in his face. "Your technology wasn't supposed to do what it did, Roger. That is the wonderful thing about it all, you discovered something we thought impossible by sheer accident! It's a serendipity, like penicillin!" He dug out my Equirolaster--it was like a stethoscope attached to a little box I called Equirosquare, which I'd developed for no other purpose than to find hollow points in big structures.
He handed me the equirolaster and made me listen to the pots. Suddenly, an odd hubbub like a hundred voices speaking at the same time sounded in my ears, then it faded and silence remained, and in the midst of that silence, deep as it was, a voice rose. It was clear, yet I didn't understand what it said, for I didn't speak the language.
I listened to the other pot and the exact same thing happened. After I'd finished listening, I shot Tom a questioning look, and said, "I don't understand."
He rushed to me, grabbed my shoulders again, his face was red. "Of course you don't! But you heard the voice--that last voice in both pots, right?"
"I have, yes."
"It's the same voice in both pots, Roger," Tom said, "and it's teaching them how to build a pyramid."
"What? But that doesn't make any sen--"
"That's not it! I've sent your equirolaster to a fellow historian, and he's been using it in old objects from other cultures who also built pyramids, and the voice is in every single one of them."
I drew a deep breath. "Tom, have you lost your mind? The equirolaster isn't some magical object that can let you hear things from the past. That's absolutely insane."
Tom's phone rang, he raised a forefinger and looked away, nodding and saying uhum as he spoke. When his conversation came to an end, he stared at me without uttering a word for thirty seconds.
"Tom? What happened?"
"The pyramids," he said.
"What's wrong with them?"
"They are spaceships."
-------------------------------------
r/NoahElowyn | We heard sounds you wouldn't even be able to imagine. It was about ancient, forgotten languages, wars we never knew, love that never should have happened. We heard gossip from all around the world, but all of this was never really interesting, and neither important.
Then a day came. It should've been a normal day in our laboratory, we had a vase from ancient rome. It was a day like any other, until we heard a very certain name, within an old unknown language: Adolf. For you it might be nothing, but for us it were everything. An evidence for something that never should've existed, that never could've happened, a real prophecy which got true. But sadly, we will never know. And i do not even know why, or how. But this is my Story. This is my story of discovering our real history. | 2019-03-18T13:45:51 | 2019-03-18T13:36:43 | 1,027 | 13 |
[WP] Aliens take over the Earth. They then announce that they will be forcing the humans to work a "tyrannical" 4 hours a day 4 days a week in exchange for basic rights like housing. Needless to say they are very confused when the humans celebrate their new alien overlords. | I finished my speech, fully prepared for the usual spectacle of protests and outrage. I take no pleasure in those but centuries of analysis and prosperity proved our way as superior and most efficient.
However cruel it is.
I certainly didn’t expect this unusual noise the humans started producing. It took my communications specialist the long Earth minute to identify and then confirm the noise as “cheering”.
Were these humans that distraught by our demands that they went into mass hysteria? No, the specialist confirmed, the reaction appeared to be genuine.
However weird it was.
In the following weeks, I have met with the representatives of the power elite. The world leaders, their richest and most powerful individuals.
Contrary to my expectations, they didn’t beg me to spare their workforce. Quite the opposite, in fact.
“The economy will collapse!” One of them said, his tone identified as ‘condescending’. “If you give everyone homes and healthcare, nobody will want to work! You are just giving everyone a handout!”
There was a lot of the same sentiment from their communication networks. The same demands to be given more work and more scarcity.
Apparently, that is what their previous rulers considered “motivation”.
The lower classes of the population, on the other hand, appeared almost disturbingly cheerful.
Our empire has conquered vast galaxies and countless worlds. And everywhere we went, the lower classes wept with despair over the tyranny we imposed on them. But humans were different.
They met us with praise, warmth and worship. I would have enjoyed it if I were not so busy trying to figure out why.
Eventually, we chose one of them to conduct an interview with. I asked her why they were enjoying our rule.
Her answer was the most shocking.
“Why not?”
“Your planet is currently under occupation by the foreign species,” I said firmly, intending to leave no room for our translators to misinterpret. “You spent one sixth of your day working.”
The young woman looked at me like I was a child. Or a jester. Then she realised I was serious.
“We used to work a third of the day, at the minimum,” she said. I heard it. But I refused to believe it. That was not an efficient use of the daily cycle. “Five or six days a week depending on how anal the management would get with you.”
I checked whether our translators were working right. Eight hours a day at least? That would leave only sixteen hours to maintain the healthy bodily functions. Half of that would go to hibernation alone!
“Even the good jobs don’t really differ much. See, my brother used to work at one of those big hedge funds. Really big money. But there was also the whole thing about showing your face around so he spent almost half a day there.”
Half? Willingly?
“So… since we are talking here, may I ask a question?”
I nodded.
“Why all the perks?” She sounded sincere. “I mean, I am enjoying all the free time and not having to worry that an ambulance ride will bankrupt me but… I think a lot of us are just waiting for the other shoe to drop.”
I looked at my increasingly frustrated translator. He clarified that she was talking about consequences or, as they said, “catch”.
“There is none.”
“None at all? No eating our young or old?”
“We have developed the sufficiently sustainable food systems. We implement those across all our occupied territories.”
“Solving the world hunger, too, huh?” She smiled. “Okay, so why the free housing and healthcare? There is seven billion of us, after all.”
“We are the efficient species. Providing you with those ensures the longevity of your service for the empire.”
“And you are not going to, I don’t know, harvest us for our organs or something? Right?”
“All due respect but we have evolved far beyond what your bodies could provide us with.”
“Good. Just checking.”
The young woman was soon let go. I stayed in my war room way past the allocated four hours of workday.
We came here as the conquerors.
I never thought we would be this species’ saviours.
EDIT: Woah, that is a lot of praise. Should I write a Part 2? | “So let me make sure I understand that correctly. All our basic needs are met for working 16 hours a week? And if we have disabilities that mean we can’t work certain types of job we get preference for the kinds of work we can still do? And healthcare is included in basic needs, both visits and medications?”
“Yes, that’s all correct.”
“What’s the catch?”
“I don’t know what you mean?”
“What’s the catch? Are we going to have horrible working conditions that drastically shorten our lifespan, or bosses that make our work lives miserable? Are we going to have to worry about being stolen from our homes, or our kids eaten? Are we going to be conscripted into serving as cannon fodder?”
“No, of course not, that’s absolutely barbaric!”
“Are we going to have to wait in line for the hours we will now have free from work in order to get the things we need, only to find when we reach the front of the line that there isn’t any more of that thing or that we were in the wrong line? Are you planning on ensuring we are addicted to substances that temporarily make us happy but are actually very destructive in the long run as a means of keeping control of us?”
“No not at all, that sounds like a nightmare.”
“Then what? There has to be something, there is a saying here on Earth: if something sounds too good to be true, it probably is.”
“We’re not from Earth.” | 2022-11-02T22:40:54 | 2022-11-02T21:25:43 | 4,256 | 418 |
[WP] The Sith feel a disturbance in the force unlike anything they have encountered. A consolidation of pure rage and anger in a single entity- The Hulk has entered the Galaxy.
Inspired from a comment on r/FanTheories. Would the Sith try to recruit the Hulk? Or would they fear him? | Lord Anarosh strode purposefully and swiftly through the halls of the Indomitable. Various concerned Imperials ran past her, giving the Sith a wide berth as they performed their duties. She in turn paid them no heed whatsoever, dark robes swishing about her armored boots. Though she outwardly showed nothing but calm and pride, she inwardly felt a trembling that had nothing to do with the Star Destroyer's engines.
*A transmission from the Dark Council itself...*
The Sith Lord reached a door flanked by two black-suited Imperial troopers, who saluted before allowing her to pass. Within the room stood an Imperial officer whose uniform bore the distinctive markings of an admiral. Upon seeing Anarosh, he instantly rose to greet her with a salute and a smile.
"My lord, it is an honor to see you. We have been expecting-" With a raised hand the Sith cut him off.
"No time for pleasantries, Admiral. There was a transmission from Dromund Kaas?" The admiral's smile never faltered as he began to access a control panel.
"Ah yes, my lord. From the Council, a priority signal. Shall I put you through?" The Sith nodded her assent.
"Very good, my lord. Just one moment... ah!" The admiral finished keying in the code, and an array of dark-blue figures flickered into being in a wall of light. Anarosh motioned him towards the door, and the white-suited admiral gave a crisp salute before waltzing out. In the hologram, a figure with spiky armor and a full-face mask stepped forward.
"Sith," the figure began, in a crisp and deep voice. "Due to the delicate nature of the matter, I shall be brief. Twenty-seven hours ago, a previously undetected Hypergate opened on the planet of Quesh. The gate carried only one being; a creature of immense rage and terrible power. Initial contact with the creature resulted in the death of four squads, and the complete obliteration of one of our factories." He paused to let the import sink in. "The beast has since gone into hiding, and is presumably still on the planet surface."
*A whole factory...* Anarosh's face betrayed no emotion as she processed the information. "Forgive me, my lord, but if the beast was indeed powerful enough to wreak such destruction, surely it should be easily detected? It would have to be enormous." At this, Darth Marr gave a short, mirthless laugh.
"Perhaps I have not been able to properly convey the beasts nature. A short demonstration is in order." With a flick of his hand, the hologram switched to a security recording. The angle showed a room filled with troopers, firing at an unseen enemy. Suddenly, an entire support pillar came falling; no, *swinging*, towards the troopers. They stood no chance as the enormous support crushed them against the wall. Anarosh squinted closer, then gasped as the monster entered the view. Barely larger than a gundark, it somehow held the entire pillar in *one* hand. The creature's skin color couldn't be seen in the blue hologram, but its clearly humanoid shape was apparent.
"Such strength... clearly this being must be powerful in the darkside." At this, Marr shook his head.
"No. Whatever strength this being possesses, it does not draw on the Force, though its pure rage does appear to strengthen the Darkside. At this, Anarosh stared wonderingly at the beast.
"Were we to capture the creature... study it..." Marr nodded approvingly.
"You see the situation. Even if we could not recreate its power, we would be able to harness its rage to increase our own. And should the monster be controlled... we would have an unstoppable might to unleash on the Republic."
*Or on...* Anarosh quickly killed the thought. It did not do to even think out of turn when speaking with the Dark Council. Instead, she stroked the cybernetics implanted along her jaw.
"What would you have me do, my lord?"
Marr thrust one hand out before him. "Go. Find the beast. By whatever means necessary, bring it back aboard the Indomitable. We must harness its rage, if we are to turn the tide of this war." The rest of the council nodded sagely; whatever differences they had, they had **felt** the rage of the beast, even on Dromund Kaas.
"My lord, I have but one final question." Marr cocked his head, but did not reprimand the Sith. Anarosh cleared her throat, having reflexively anticipated a telekinetic choking. "How may I identify the creature? There are other beings on Quesh of a similar size, and its anatomy is remarkable similar to that of other near-humans." Though Marr's face was covered, a sense of annoyance rolled off of him.
"By his rage, Sith. By the trail of destruction in his wake. And failing that..." he said. Before them, the recording from the factory continued. "The creature does appear to have a name." The monster continued to pound the factory walls, but then looked straight into the camera. With a leap he was suddenly right up at the lens, snarling face staring straight into the camera. As the creature reared back an enormous fist, he roared a barely intelligible cry, backed by boundless fury:
"**HULK! SMASH!**"
| Darth Plagueis opened himself up to the flow of information the force offered, his body descending the stairs of his ship on pure muscle memory. The rocky, near-deserted planet was a world, no, *worlds* away from the sophistication of Coruscant but it was here on the outlying edges of the galaxy that he felt truly invigorated-his mind opening up, as if the barren wastes craved the guiding intelligence only a Sith scientist could provide.
The planet probably had a name-it didn't matter, his influence as head of the Banking Clan and with the Trade Federation had ensured this planet and the surrounding sector were sealed away from prying eyes-living and droid, leaving him and his retinue to their eldritch machinations.
Plagueis scanned his immediate surroundings, rather redundant as His mastery of the force had long since outgrown the need for his physical Muun eyes, the force was the only sense he needed and beings visible and otherwise appeared as mere impressions on it's visceral plane.
The assortment of force sensitive mercenaries he had brought along with the droids were like mere embers in the force compared to the raging inferno of the one behind him-Palpatine. The young, red-headed human aristocrat remained silent even as Plagueis sensed the seething curiosity and the abyss of malice beneath that practiced noble demeanor. And yet all this paled in comparison to the supernova that was wreaking havoc on the force, right here on this very planet.
Mere hours ago, sensors had picked up a temporal disturbance in this sector, narrowing it down to a few planets, no more than a mere scientific oddity. But Plagueis knew, and so did Palpatine that it didn't end there. Something had come along with this disturbance-something wonderful. The torrent of sheer anger and frustration had piqued their interest and drawn them like a vortex-Plagueis as one who craved knowledge, and Palpatine as one that craved power.
Plagueis turned as if to issue orders when a fresh torrent of anger spread out from their target making some of the force-sensitive mercenaries collapse and sharpening the longing the Sith felt for whatever it was causing it. The maelstrom of rage spoke volumes not of hatred but of isolation, frustration-of youth denied. *Am I about to meet myself?*
Plagues's life had been that of the one against the many. People felt comfort in numbers and almost never asserted their own identities-the millenia of living under Jedi rule had made a virtue of complacency. *All action stars from the self and flows outward*, the sith respected individuality and distinction from the masses. The same distinction that brought master and apprentice to this corner of the galaxy. He could see Palpatine's eyes had turned a piercing yellow of their own accord, tell-tale signs that the sheer force activity had kindled uncontrollable excitement in his apprentice and no doubt his visage bore the same signs. Their potential adversary or perhaps ally was close-almost too close.
------------------
First ever WP, criticism and comments welcome. Thanks for reading. | 2014-07-22T20:25:25 | 2014-07-22T19:19:57 | 49 | 13 |
[WP] In peacetime, the ruler grows their hair long. In war, they cut it short. To declare war, a persons hair is sent to the enemy. The statement carries greater weight the longer the hair; to receive long hair says you have angered one slow to anger, that you have incurred a wrath not easily woken. | Smoke rose from the burning city, carrying away with it the broken pride of a soon to be conquered nation.
Queen Ilyantra stood on the mountainside plateau, looking back at what would be the start of Armeria's funeral pyre with calm satisfaction, idly toying with a strand of her long, dark hair. Her army had utterly destroyed the city, and now had left it far behind. She'd deliberately had her own tent erected in a place where she could look back and admire her handiwork, however.
The Armerians, and the surrounding nations, had a tradition. Truth be told, Ilyantra's *own* people had held to it, too, before her own enlightened rule tore out religion, mysticism, and superstition by the roots, in the nation of Etryanos. As she stood overlooking the ruins of Oramas, southern capital of Armeria, peering out from behind the sweat-soaked curtain of her dark silken locks, she could not help but regard this particular tradition with special amusement.
The tradition held that, in peacetime, a ruler grew their hair long. In war, they would cut it short, because before attacking another nation, the aggressor was obliged to declare war openly, by sending their shorn locks to the enemy by messenger. Supposedly, receiving long locks of hair was supposed to be a perilous thing, for it meant you had aroused the wrath of someone thoughtful and slow to anger, since only such a ruler would have had long hair to send you.
It was considered a normative rule of war in the region, and some claimed there was reasonable justification for it beyond tradition. But Ilyantra knew that was mere window-dressing, an excuse for those who foolishly tried to hold reason in one hand and superstition in the other.
The *real* reason was that those who clung to superstition believed the hoary old custom was established by the gods, and violating it invited *divine wrath*. The weakness of mind required to believe such a thing disgusted her.
If there were gods, they were blind, deaf, and dumb. They did nothing, when at her command, the grand army of Etryanos sacked Oramas, and put the pious Armerians to the sword. They did *nothing,* when she ordered the grand temple in the capital's heart pulled down brick by brick. One of the greatest benefits Ilyantra's forthcoming rule over the region would bring, would be the annihilation of such backwards beliefs from every corner of her realm.
In reality, the only thing the tradition of declaring war by sending your hair to the enemy accomplished, was needlessly giving your enemy time to prepare, and obliging you to wear a *hat* to avoid catching cold.
It *was* a deeply ingrained superstition, though. One of her own generals had come to her before the army was set to leave Etryanos, bringing with him a gaggle of *astrologers* of all things. She'd listened to the pathetic man, whom she'd previously believed to be a sound tactician, as he'd *begged* her to hearken to his cadre of charlatan soothsayers, who swore up and down that their observations of the heavens showed that the stars were wrong, *terribly* wrong, for launching an attack on Southern Armeria, and that only calamity could result from her taking her army through that region.
She'd thanked the general for his input, and then had him and his fraudulent fortune tellers executed on the spot. The only calamity that resulted, of course, fell upon Oramas, not her army, and it came from *her,* not the stars.
Satisfied, she turned away from the city, and began to walk back towards her opulent command tent. She paused, as she heard a resounding boom from somewhere below -- not the distant city, but close to the base of the mountain. Looking down, she saw a large fire burning at the edge of her army's encampment, frantic soldiers swarming around it.
As she watched, a burning stone slammed into the midst of the camp, smashing tents, soldiers, and horses, and sending debris fly. She snarled. Siege engines! Somehow, they must have missed some of the city's siege engines, and now survivors had turned them on her army, flinging stones soaked in burning pitch and set alight, and seeking revenge for their razed city.
Whirling, she dashed towards the command tent to find her field marshal, and find out how the enemy could have deployed bloody *siege engines* without being spotted by her scouts and outriders. She pulled up short, however, as the man was already outside the tent, staring wide at the sky. She turned to follow his gaze, and froze.
*Thousands* of burning stones were raining down towards the mountain. More than all the trebuchets in the region loosing together could possibly have hurled. But this was no volley from siege engines. The stones were falling straight down from the sky itself. The stars themselves, falling down upon her.
As she stared up in mute horror at the innumerable burning boulders descending from the sky to obliterate her, her grand army, and the very mountain they stood upon, she could not help but notice how the long trails of flame the celestial stones traced through the sky as they fell, made the falling stars look like a multitude of impossibly long, burning, strands of *hair.* | The package came in an envelope of the finest paper, addressed to me in a calligraphy most ornate, flairs and curls of the most unnecessary fashion. It was bulky and large, unable to fit in my apartment’s mailbox, I had to go all the way to the post office to properly receive it after three failed attempts at delivery. I work during the day. One would think the postal service would understand that and attempt delivery outside of work hours, but no, I had to make the trip all the way downtown, wait in line, and deal with a postal worker far too humorless to sympathize with my ordeal, all of this to receive… Hair?
Lots of hair. Strands of it grey and nearly 32 inches long. I know, I measured it. I couldn’t for the life of my understand who would send me hair, but when I thought about it for long enough, I realized what it was.
I’d only half paid attention to high school history class, but I did catch the unit on the practices of Middle Earth civilizations from the fifteenth century to the eighteenth, especially the practices surrounding war. A declaration of war was to send hair via courier to the enemy king. Hair was especially symbolic in those days. A peaceful civilization was known to where their hair in the sorts of flamboyant styles the length allowed, a point of pride amongst the people. Hair was not cut unless war had been declared.
But who considered me an enemy? And also had a thing for historical symbolism. I didn’t think I knew anyone that kept their hair so long, until it came to me. Leonard. He was a fucking weirdo and he kept his hair long. He also had a collection of swords from that particular era. Had an entire room dedicated to swords. A sword room. Nobody can go in the sword room without his presence.
Then I looked at the postage, which could have probably told me who it was without the initial confusion and I saw it pretty clearly written in that same calligraphy. I wonder if he used a feather tip? Probably, the fucking nerd.
Leonard works in our IT department. He’s the most awkward guy I’ve ever known. Talking to him is physically painful, but I felt bad for the guy. I could see he never got a whole lot of human contact outside of chat rooms, so I just politely listened to his rantings on the battles of Grimwah and Edelweiss, The Great Orc War (they were nearly constantly bald, the orcs, also why they don’t exist anymore), he would talk to me about sword techniques throughout the years, the war declared by accident when the courier delivered the hair to the wrong kingdom, and all of his role playing games, most of which revolving around his mid millennium obsession.
I was nice to him, the bastard. Now he sends me war hair. Why did he send me war hair?…
I guess I’ll find out at work tomorrow. He’s got an odd shaped head, he’s going to look terrible bald. | 2022-04-17T23:49:23 | 2022-04-17T22:56:39 | 149 | 82 |
[WP] with the dull clank of rusted armor, you crawl from your crypt to meet your new master. Only to sigh and pinch the nonexistent bridge of your nose as you see a wide eyed young girl holding a black book. Tears streak her face. "I need you to help me find my daddy" she sniffles. You groan. | "No.”
My own voice startles me, a whisper devoid of bass and timbre.
“Excuse me?”
“I said no.”
Her brows furrow, “It may have sounded like a request, but it wasn’t. You will help me find my father. Now.”
A familiar feeling wells up within me. Rage. And with it foreign ones. A wanton desire to destroy. A longing desire to kill. I pull my blade and step towards the lithe young creature while the feeling of hate thrums louder. My arm arcs back and slashes forward, a cackle escapes my boney maw. Elation nibbles at the edge of my consciousness.
She laughs.
I look down to see a blade hilt in my hands and nothing more. I scream in anger looking around wildly. On the cobblestones behind me lay a rusted piece of metal. The bastard Princeling buried me with an imitation. Just another of many slights. Tossing aside the hilt I flex my fingers and decide on something more personal. I turn again towards the girl. She looks amused.
“Cliazin vindre mortimie sinidan”
Ghostly shackles enwrap me. The rage disappears. Had I been of the living, this would have been a painful binding.
“You undead are unruly things and you are my fourth summon. Please try not to be so obstinate. I thought I’d try a little emotion this time,” she wipes away fake tears as she sits on the ground. “I’ve been at this for about two weeks now. I tried pure domination, too taxing. Puppeteering, too imprecise. And gross displays of power, very messy.” She inclines her head towards what was left of a neighboring crypt and the thirty or so yards around it. “So now I’m just going to try reason and honesty ok?”
I briefly consider my situation, “Sure.”
“I don’t give two rips about my father. I don’t even know who he is. The man I want to kill is a warlock. He has power over the living. Hence my need for you. I want him dead so I can take his work for my own. I think you can piece together the rest. Now. What do you want in return?”
“To kill you.”
“Well, that’s a start. Let’s just go ahead and agree that one’s off the table. Dig a little deeper.”
Images of long marches in bad weather fill my mind. Sleeping in the rain while He enjoys his tent. Eating grass and spoiled bread while He eats mutton and drinks mead. His boyish glee as he takes any woman he pleases while the rest of us….
“I want to kill Prince Thesria the First.”
She looks up from her tome, “The First? Well. Seventy years too late for that. I suppose we could track down his grave, raise him up and you could beat his bones to dust if you like. Be warned though this book says the risen dead often form bonds despite their mortal conflicts. You may just end up being best friends instead, and seeing as you got lost in your own little world there for the better part of ten minutes, I’m guessing that’s not going to work for you.”
I grunt.
“I don’t suppose being by my side for all eternity dispensing death to whomever I desire would work for you? Maybe commanding a legion of not-prince thesrian dead? I don’t know what more I can offer a murder hungry skeleton.”
“Not my fault.”
“Huh?”
“The bloodlust.”
“Oh.”
“It’s just there.”
“Got it, I can probably dull that a bit. I wondered what this bit was about.” She flips through the book and points at something I can’t see. “So, decision time. Unholy Warrior of the Ages or pile of bones adrift in nothingness.”
“Well, you do have a certain charm.”
“Aww, that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”
She rattles off another chain of incantations. The bonds disperse. The Desire flares and is quickly tempered down beneath my chest, still throbbing, but contained. Mostly.
“How’s that. Still feel like ripping me into little pieces and rubbing my tattered flesh all over your bones?”
“You’re too young for me.”
She breaks out into laughter. “I think this will work out just fine. I’m Prina, but I think now I’ll need something fiercer. I’m thinking Mania, Mistress of Despair. And you?”
“Damon.”
“Damon, the Eater of Souls. Bane of the Living. Incarnation of Fear…”
“Easy kid. We haven’t done anything yet.”
She points at a small hilltop village still visible beneath the setting sun. A dark smile appearing on her face.
“Well, let’s get started then.” | It was dark, pitch black. Where am I? Where was I last? I died. Am I still dead? A light so dim, yet so blindingly bright to me appeared in a vertical line. The line grew wider and wider, all until the stone slab above my coffin was completely removed. I removed it, I lifted it, without even willing it. And my body continued to move until it was outside of the crypt.
It was night, but there was a full moon. And a young girl in front of me. She clutched a black book to her chest as if it were the last thing she had left in this world. I've heard stories of this, I imagined the possibility, but I never thought it would happen to me.
Tears streaked down her cheeks. She choked the words out. "Please, save my papa!"
I looked around. That seemed to be permitted. In the distance, there was a raging fire. It engulfed a village. My body willed itself to move in that direction. It started as a walk, and then it became a full on sprint. My armor and sword were still on me. They clanged as I ran. It felt somewhat nostalgic, charging into battle. But this time was different. There was no fear, no excitement. I would not die. I was already dead.
In the village center, a man was tied to a pillar, below him was a pile of branches and twigs. Surrounding the man was a retinue of knights dressed in identical white tabards with the symbol of the order, a dragon. These bastards again.
One of them was about to set the man on fire when another one of them saw me.
"What have we here?" he declared. The others turned around, to me. "I knew it! I bloody knew it! A necromancer!" He wasn't wrong. But this is going too far, to kill so many for the one.
I tried to speak but I could not. My body moved itself, closer to the man on the pillar.
"Step back, foul abomination!" They blocked my path and pointed their swords at me.
I'm going to enjoy this. | 2019-11-23T02:39:48 | 2019-11-23T02:15:19 | 36 | 16 |
[WP] You have the ability to stop time whenever and for however long you like, to resume time you must return to the spot you stopped it at. Today you've stopped time just before a bullet is about to hit your head. | From what I know, its a bit of a misconception that I can actually freeze time. It doesn't really work like that despite how it may seem. In truth, I seem to step out of time and into a dimension in which time is frozen but I exist as a spectator to it. I can't step back into time anywhere other than where I first stepped out because when I do step pout, I open a door into this other dimension and I can't actually go in anywhere else. This is important because for all intents and purposes I do stop time and I can stop it for however long I like. I could stay in this state for an eternity but I can't change the world. I exist as a mere reflection of what I really am, a ghost who can merely watch but never interact with the world. What I should also explain is that time kind-off does freeze me as well, I exist in this other dimension as an exact copy of what I was in the instant that I stepped out. So if I were hungry when I 'stopped' time, I would be hungry for eternity and, though I can't eat, anything I did eat would never stop me from being hungry. The point is, I can't change anything in this state because I don't exist in the same place as everything anymore.
So I can't stop that bullet. It's maybe 2 feet away from me and there is nothing I can do about it. I can't move it because I can't interact with it and, anyway, it can't move if time is frozen. I could sit here forever, never dying and never aging but I can't stop what is going to happen. I would live here in a world of statues, going mad from the loneliness and isolation watching the eternities that will never pass. This is really just selfishness in all honesty. Extending and stretching time itself just to gain those few precious yet non-existant hours or days. Or eons. Right now I can see myself, my body frozen in that one instant with then stupidest look on his face as his death pierces the veil of air towards his head. Poor pitiful man. Thinking that he could hope to save himself from the certainty of death.
It's pathetic really, this is such a small death for such a man. I've crossed frozen oceans to lands at every corner of the globe, stood in the deepest forests and swatted fruitlessly at the eternal snowfall. I've seen sights that some people could only ever dream of, from the tops of the Pyramids to the depths of the Grand Canyon itself. I can walk on air because gravity doesn't work when time is frozen, although I can still climb down stairs just not if that involves falling. I've been to such beautiful places and watched the world in its majesty and beauty. Yet all I really want now is to see it turn and the people in their lives. I may have eternity, I may be able to do things that are impossible for anyone else to do, but I can never watch the world turn again.
I want to cry right now, feel the hurt and pain of my fate and failures roll down my cheeks. Of course, I can't do that either, time isn't moving so my tear ducts can't fill themselves with pain and self-loathing. Those infernal drops can never hit my cheeks, never roll down them, never hit the ground. I can see a woman sat at a table in the distance, eating her lunch and so unaware of what is about to happen to me. There's a baby next to her, about to cry because it isn't getting the attention it needs from its mother. I've never met them but, in that endless instant, I know them better than anyone. I can see every emotion and thought running through their heads, their eyes and faces are so expressive, so colourful.
Behind me, there is a bee, on its way to pollinate a flower or maybe returning to the hive and so completely caught up in its tiny world. It is bursting with the brightest yellows and the darkest blacks. I probably won't see those again. Everything is happening at once and I will experience none of it. I turn back to the baby, sat on the verge of breaking down into tears at the very edge of its world. I sit down and look into his eyes. I'm 21 years old and I have lived longer than any of these people, eons in no time at all. I don't want to die, I've seen so much and the thought of such oblivion scares me, but maybe I have lived too long and seen too much.
'You'll never know me. You'll never hear the stories I could have told you, or the knowledge I could have imparted. You will never concern yourself with me or even be aware of my existence. All that time I lived, everything I saw, it will die with me and you will never know.' I think, reaching out to him as if I could break the barrier of my non-existence in his world. 'I could have done so much. I could have been so many things. You can too.'
Funny thing that. I was expecting some profound realization at the end of my life but, all I can really think about is how much I wish I had done. The end of one life and the beginning of another, separated by the impenetrable barrier of time. I smile. 'Well isn't that always the way?'
I sigh. Maybe it is time to die. 'Good luck, kid'. I stand and return slowly to my spot, closing my eyes and feeling time wash over me as I flood back into the world. I only live for another second or two. In the distance, I can hear a baby breaking out into tears and cries of shock from people closer to me as they turn to see what the loud crack was only a moment ago and watch the bullet collide with my head. My skin splits and the bullet breaks quite easily through my skull band into my brain, exploding out the other side and painting the streets red.
My only thought is- | The man pulled the trigger as the clock struck ten. I was in fear for my life and so, I froze time. Allow me to explain how it all led up to this.
------
***3 years ago***
I gained this awesome gift about 3 years ago. I could stop time whenever and however long I wanted. The only condition is that I have to go to the exact spot where I stopped time. Here is how I got my power and how I ended up at gunpoint.
I came home from school at 2 PM having a massive hatred towards homework like any other kid and I thought to myself, "This freaking sucks." I then continued on my merry way to do my homework. It took about 8 hours to finish everything, including my class project, and I noticed that it was still 2 PM.
I went to school tomorrow and I showed my friends my power. They did not believe me so I froze time for what seemed like about a day and they were surprised when they all had sombreros that seemingly appeared out of nowhere.
For the next 2 3/4 years, we would play around with my power whether it was for skipping class or just wanting to goof off. That is when people started noticing.
------
***3 months ago***
My friends and I thought it would be funny if I painted a dead meme on the side of the Washington Monument. They forced me to pick Harambe so I decided to do it for the fun of it. It took me about 3 years to complete it. One year for learning to drive a crane and utilize other construction supplies, and two years for the painting. I unfroze time and my friends and I went back to my house.
Everything was fine and we pretty much got bored of my power over the next 3 months. Then it was Christmas morning and I decided to go for a morning jog in a nearby park. When I was halfway done, I was suddenly stopped by a man who seemed to be wearing camouflage.
The man said to me, "Are you Peter Johnson?" I responded yes. He said, "You do realize I have to kill you right?" I was confused and he explained the situation. He explained what happened with the Washington Monument and he aimed a gun at me. He pulled the trigger as the clock struck ten and I stopped time.
------
I saw the bullet right in front of me. I was happy but then realized that I would have to return to that same spot eventually. Instead of accepting my fate, I decided to attempt to construct a bullet proof vest since stealing one would cause another crime. It took about 12 years but I did it. I put it on, took the gun from the man, and I unfroze time.
I did not account for the bullet which was now rushing to the inside of the gun in my possession. The gun exploded and I froze time again. I got a metal box to contain the explosion which due to freezing time quickly, was about 10 inches wide.
I then saw that the explosion was still growing but very slowly. I then realized that my powers could not stop time, but merely slow it down. I slowed time down more so I could put the box back in it's original location and I went back to the explosion. It grew to about 50 percent of it's original size and I unfroze time. The bullet then went slowly since I still had time a little slow. It was about the speed of a small wind-up toy car. I felt it puncture my chest and I felt myself fade as the speed of time returned to normal. | 2016-12-25T07:38:37 | 2016-12-25T05:25:09 | 36 | 26 |
[WP] You're a Super Villian, and honestly it isn't a bad job. But one hero always harasses you even when you're off the clock. Walking in the park, in the grocery store, getting a haircut, he always wants to 'Stop your evil plan'. You're left with one option: Complain to his manager. | '...seriously, Kyle, stop it.' I said, weakly.
'I am not Kyle, my name is the Mighty Peace Bringer!' He said, in the mid-air, while striking a Superman pose, with his both hands on his hip, head held high and his big bright purple cape flapping along with the wind, making the flap flap noise behind him.
'No, Kyle, you're Kyle, i've known you all my life, just because you can suddenly fly one day doesn't make you a superhero. Also that big ass cape is goin to kill you one day! It will get caught on something, seriously. And stop using the superman pose, it's not even cool anymore.' i said, not even looking at him.
'Wha, what? i am cool! No, wait, that's not the point.' He said and then clear his throat and continues but in a deeper, manly-by-his-definition voice, 'By the power bestowed upon me by the higher power, i am here to arrest you! You had commit crimes against humanity that will be punish by me, THE MIGHTY PEACE BRINGER!' He raise his voice at the end of his sentence, which also crack a little.
I let out an exhausted exhale, and put my both hands in the kangaroo pocket in front of my favorite hoodie i'm wearing, featuring a big picture of Tom & Jerry on my back, which also, happen to be my favorite cartoon growing up.
'No, Kyle, i'm just on my way picking up my suit from dry cleaning and going home to fix it, coz it's kinda damage from the last fight, we villains need to be on top of our game when it comes to looking in style, you know.' I said, and started to walk forward again.
'No, wait!' Kyle flew next to me, keeping in pace with me.
'Catching you will make me look so good! I need to score a big catch and then maybe finally Wonder Woman will be my friend!' He said, in his real teenager voice which is kinda squeaky and annoying, but well, i'm use to it.
'Just because i use to be your neighbor and basically watch you grew up, doesn't means i'm gonna let you catch me, just like that. Maybe when i'm retiring, but not now.' I said, continue forward and wave my hand at him, implying him to leave me alone.
'Wait, wait, wait, wait! Mr Pete, wait.' Kyle flew in front of me and block my way.
'What if we cut a deal? You let me catch you, and then i....i...' He struggles to come up with a deal to keep me interested. I walk pass him, turn the corner and push the door into the dry cleaning shop. I walk up to the counter, smile at the cashier, pay him in cash, along with tips and wish him good day after i pick up my now daisy fresh suit. I turn around, ready to walk out of the store, already starting to mentally map out the spots i need to sew up on my suit.
Whoosh\~
The moment i step out of the door, Kyle quickly flew by my side and grab my suit from my hand. In the midst of the action, i can hear a distinct ripping sound.
'What the hell, Kyle!' i scream at him. "Dude, did you fxxking rip my suit?'
He again clear his throat. 'Mr Pete, erm, no, *\*clear throat again\*,* Mr Black Knight, i hereby detains your belonging and arrest you, for all the crimes you have commit against the humanity!' He said, and then strike the pose again, with my suit dangling on his hand.
'No, Kyle, give me my suit, i think you rip it.' Ignoring his very limited superhero lines, i reach out my hand and demand.
'Mr Black Knight, you will come with me in cuffs and ... and ... you have the right to remain silence, and what you said will be used against you in court!' He said. I guess his very limited superheros line runs out and the first thing that pops up in his head is the cliche line from police dramas.
'Whatever, Kyle, just show me my suit, i need to check if the rip is too serious.' I continue.
He pause for a second, and then lift up my suit with both hands while flying closer to me for me to inspect. I look around, found the holes from my last fight and a fresh new hole near my left sleeve.
'What the hell, Kyle, look what you've done, It's worst now.' I snatch the suit from his hand, and examine the hole closely. Him and his stupid power, i thought to myself.
'This is unacceptable, Kyle, even from you. I am going to complain to your manager.' I said, glaring at him.
'No, I'm sorry Mr Pete, i'll fix it, please don't tell my mum!' He pleads, all of the sudden, all the manly in his voice slips away. His manager also happens to be his mum whom i had kept in touch with even after i moved away from his next door.
'Oh no, i will tell her everything, including the fact that you've been bothering me for so many weeks!' I snap at him and began to walk toward his mum's house. 'No, wait, Mr Pete!' He said and flew right next to me, continue to explain himself. But my mind had been made, i will complain to his mom, one way or another! | "I've had enough Mark. This guy is putting the whole hero villain dynamic in jeopardy."
I look across the desk at Mark, Topeka's head of operations for Shield insurance. He is mixing the ice around the shot glass looking board at me.
"I hear you Dave, but Jason is just enthusiastic. Everyone was this way at one point in their life, remember when you first dawned the mask? You wanted to work everyday! I swear we had a disaster of the week with you."
"Ya Mark, I gave Jeff at least 6 days to relax, and I NEVER attempted to out his secret identity! What do you teach these kids now-a-days? What happened to a 3 day advance notice before making something happen?"
"New management. They did a market research study and turns out people don't like secret identities anymore. They like to know who the hero is, and the LOVE a villain that is the head of an evil corporation now. Someone everyone knows is evil but no one can do anything about. You know the kind, they can blow up half the city without a mask on and just pay off the judge or whatever."
"That is fine mark, but I have never been that type of villain. I'm a joker style. You know? Hire a bunch of henchmen, blow up a building, get on the tornado sirens and threaten a hospital. That has always been my dynamic with Jeff. You need to stop this kid before he outs me as a villain. I can't exactly sow terror into people if I'm legitimately rotting behind bars!"
"Alright Dave, tell me what he did."
"Last Thursday I was walking threw the park, just enjoying the weather, when out of nowhere a comes flying down and starts this whole spiel 'I have found you Drestik! I know your plan, and I shall thwart them! Now dawn your Armour and fight me!'. I had to act like everyone else and look around for a blue skinned bald goggled man like everyone else. I was honestly terrified that he would start a fight then and there!"
"Dave, you know that spontaneous events is part of your contract right?"
"Yes Mark, but it has always been the other way around. It has always been villains starting the scene. Why would he just decide he wants to start something then and there without even giving me a warning!"
"Fine Dave, I'll talk to him. Just please calm down. He is young and excited. People love the action. I know the job can be stressful from time to time, but we have a hold on this city. We can't let that go now. People are paying a premium rate for villain insurance, when we only destroy buildings that are set for demolition. Just relax and we will talk to Jason. Remind him that he need to warn you 3 days ahead of time, and set something up."
"Just make sure it happens Mark, or your going to need to find a new villain too." | 2019-08-01T19:29:33 | 2019-08-01T19:24:54 | 31 | 23 |
[WP] You are an immortal serial killer. You were caught and sentenced to life in prison. The prison is starting to get suspicious of why you won't age. | I detected the faintest rattle of keys before the door clicked opened into my own personal exhibit tucked away in a supermax prison somewhere in Mississippi. By the heavy breathing, the scrape of his worn soles, I knew my visitor to be Officer Cleburne making his morning rounds. Undoubtedly the stench from his breath would...and there it was. I was vexed and appalled by that fetid odor but the lack of any form of mental stimulation other than my own thoughts made me much more amenable to any minute change in my surroundings.
"Well hello there Mr. Marzipan," he called with that hayseed drawl. He shuffled towards my cage but paused just out of reach. His bloated body was shoved haphazardly into an ill-fitting uniform, his mustache still coated in grease. He looked at me with the dull eyes of a cow beholding a caged lion.
"Mortimer," I corrected for the five hundred and third time. "And good morning to you, Gerald, how are you today?"
"Oh, can't complain. You know, gettin' older, got a touch of the gimpy leg, my gout is acting up what with all the weather and then there's this strange thing growin' on my arm, would you like to see it?"
"Thank you, Gerald, but no I would not like to see that. Perhaps you should consult your dermatologist."
"Oh, okay, I spose."
The hillbilly looked momentarily chastened as he ceased rolling up the left sleeve of his wrinkled polyester uniform.
"Did you find that copy of Dante's Inferno I asked for?" I knew full well he had not.
"Uh, no, I uh...no I haven't found it yet." He looked distracted. His eyes glossed over, the one pathetic wheel housed in that lardaceous cranium had begun to turn.
"Something wrong Gerald?"
"Mr. Maritime..."
"Mortimer," I corrected. 504th.
"How long have I been comin' here to see you?"
"Oh...I'd say something like...12 years 3 months 2 days, why do you ask?"
He whistled. "Twelve years? It's strange to think about. I mean I think I've changed a bit over the last few, you know?"
Six waste sizes. Hair plugs. Two fewer teeth. A substantial amount of ear and nose hair. Skin is waxy and oily from a diet consisting primarily of fried meats and high-fructose corn syrup.
"Gerald, you have aged like fine wine."
"I spose, but you...you don't look to have changed one bit. Not one white hair on ya. It's just a bit strange Mr. Moriarty."
I bit my tongue. I rather liked that one.
"The other guards, they git to talkin' sometimes. Some of them have been here longer than me, like old Joe. But he's not alright in the head these days."
"Sorry to hear that, I always liked old Joe."
"But they get to wonderin' like me. Just...just how old are you anyway?"
"Gerald, it's not polite to ask," I said with a twinkle and a grin. "I'm probably not too much younger than you anyway. My family is known for their longevity and I have ways of keeping myself in shape."
The officer's eyes widened. "What kind of ways? Like...spells or witchcraft?"
I laughed.
"I promise, no witchcraft. Instead I practice CrossFit. It is a high-intensity interval strength and conditioning program that activates all the muscles. I'm quite fastidious and I've been doing it for sometime. Perhaps you should look into it yourself, Gerald."
"Oh...yeah...I think I've heard of that. But you aren't like...you know...a vampire, like Nosfer-ahh-tu or anything, right?"
"Of course not, Gerald. There are no such things as vampires. Even if they did exist, I get two hours of direct sunlight through the window every day. By almost every literary interpretation my skin should have burst into flames and boiled off of my body. But it has yet to do so."
"You have a fair point, Mr. Marmot. But it seems like everone that works here comes to ah uh..." his voice trailed off.
"An affliction?" I prodded. "A devastating illness? An untimely end?"
For a moment Officer Cleburne could not find words and I watched him, helpless, as his lips moved without making a sound.
"Gerald, life is filled with maladies, unexpected events, coincidences that we don't fully comprehend. Life is pain. Life is torture. It is a prison in human flesh. If we live long enough, something unfortunate is bound to happen. And it is natural to ask why and look for answers. Sometimes we look to science, or to God, sometimes we look to whatever is nearest for an explanation. But sometimes there are no real answers to be had at all."
He puckered his lips and nodded thoughtfully. Then he looked up to me with those sad cow eyes.
"But you aren't like an immortal demon or anything are you?"
I grinned teeth at the diseased bag of slowly rotting meat wearing its ill-fitting skin, that mass of fat and bloated entrails gently squeezing a beleaguered beating heart.
"Gerald, how about getting that book I asked for?" | It's been a while seeing these grey walls. About 45 years. Or maybe it has been fifty. I can't recall. I was sentenced for a lifetime here since I was on a killing spree back in the days. I was sort of a Robin Hood you see, killing criminals just like me. I actually call myself Charlie Catastrophe if you ever wonder if I have a name for myself. Back to the story, I've killed rapists, petty thieves, hired killers, drug lords (which is my favorite since they say that they cause poverty in this city), and a former politician. I remembered during my killing spree that I've killed about thirty criminals in total within a week and half. Maybe an additional thirty for colateral damage. Maybe more. I lost count for seeing these blank walls all the time. I started this madness since my father was killed when I was a teenager. He was accused of -- I can't remember. I think he was accused of selling drugs or raping a non-existent girl or that he's a member of a notorious gang or maybe all of it. Some say that a government official orderd his death. I can't really recall. These walls really makes my memory blank. All I can remember is the day I got caught.
It was a perfect sunny day so I went for a cup of coffee. Of course I brought my .45 caliber that I always use and a swiss knife of sorts for unexpected occasions. I also brought yesterday's newspaper for, you know, being less suspicious since it headlined "Fifty killed within a week". I was drinking my daily coffee at my favorite café when I heard that there will be a rally in favor of this corrupt official at the city plaza. I think he was the one that caused my father's death. This is the moment I've been waiting for. I went there quickly and to my surprise, he was looking for volunteers to ask him a question. I quickly ran up to the stage and luckily, I was picked to ask the question. I said to the mic, "Why?" and then I shot him in his chest. I come up close to him to stab him and he said that I will rot in jail for what I have done. The police came and you know what happened next.
I've told this to countless inmates and prison guards whenever I had the chance to tell them my inspiring story. Not countless but maybe around a hundred in total. Sometimes I hear the guards telling that maybe death penalty should be implemented for psychos like me. I guess I have to wait a little longer.
And here I am, still in jail. Thanks to my lovely city for not having death penalty. You know what I learned from the story? Corrupt politicians always lie, even in their last breath.
I guess it's also a lie that I'll rot in jail.
--
*Sorry if it's not in the guards' perspective*
EDIT: minor change to typos and some parallelism | 2016-10-15T08:58:14 | 2016-10-15T08:27:16 | 49 | 14 |
[WP] You are an ordinary human going about your day when you suddenly find yourself in hell. Looking down you see yourself standing on some crudely drawn symbols. A nearby demon child holds up some paper and says "Um...can you help me with my homework?" | >No... no. No.
You were in hell. The temperature was a solid 99 and the humidity was nuts. There was a sullen red glow about most of the rocks, but not quite enough to see by. Your nightvision kept making you jump at flickers. A single torch was the only real light-source and it was uncomfortably close. The demon danced about and riddled you with questions. You swear it had ADHD or something.
>But 6,000 years ago...
>Nooooo... that's just what the stories say. We know it's far far older because of radiocarbon-dating, sedimentary layers, cosmic background radiation, the redshift in galaxies... the list of interlocking evidence just keeps going and going.
>[okay](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A5RHu1lTv14&feature=youtu.be&t=26)
He's still squirming around, and you can tell he's still wrestling with the idea. You just rest your head on arm and give him a moment. His study room has a bunch of bookshelves (all unlabeled), a large desk, inkpot and quill (which the kid is surprisingly deft with), and a tall window. It's the window that draws your attention like a slow trainwreck you can't look away from. Down below are the "fields of suffering", the "pool of despair", and "some sulphury place, I dunno, dad won't let me go there".
>So... it's like... you know that cause if... one thing is untrue, then... this other thing would have to also not be un- uhhh be not fauuuuhh...
>Hey, watch the circle!
He was an honestly sweet child, if a little slow, but he had to be up and dance about. Once again you had to warn the little summoner not to mess with the chalk pentagram on the floor. It was, so he said, the only thing keeping you here. You remember being at the office cafeteria and smelling a whiff of rotten eggs, which was odd because there wasn't a gas oven anywhere in the building. And there it was, a snickers. Left all alone on an abandoned table. Full size, not one of those treasonously named "fun-size" pieces of sacrilege. With your best forced casual, you grabbed it on the sly as you walked past. But instead of sliding into your pocket, it yanked back and you went screaming down a void of darkness and terror. And out you popped into little Beezelpup's study room.
Horns, hooves, tail and all, but only about 4'. You would have panicked but the little guy was just so damn cute. The red skin went shockingly well with the blue school uniform. He was remote learning today. Something about contagious memes. And he wasn't getting the material at all. So he phoned in some help. After an initial round of questions, you two quickly formed an agreement and you got to work delving into the "dark and taboo knowledge of the enemy. The sacrosanct pillars upon which their civilization is built. That which must be whispered". You traded it for a snickers and a promise to get back home within 2 hours.
>Sure, yeah, the supporting evidence helps establish it as true. But really, all you need is a single test. A prediction about the world based on a hypothesis that is testable and provable. Matching with other tests and hypothesis is good, but sometimes two tests don't agree with each other.
And you see that sliver of hopeful understanding dissolve into confusion. Again. Jesus christ kid, come on! It wasn't his fault though. His parents were "traditional" demons, very "pitchforks and corruption" types. They had filled his head with some serious nonsense.
>It just means one theory is... isn't the entire picture. No theory is completely complete. Ah! how about this? Scientific progress is the process of becoming **less wrong**. Remember how we talked about Newton on the planets spinning about?
A little grudging nod.
>He was wrong about time dilation and frames of reference.
>BUT NONE OF THE PLANETS MOVE THAT FAST!
>Right! Exactly. He was correct... for parts of it. He was less wrong than those that came before him. And Einstein with his relativity was also... "less wrong".
The sullen little cuss looked almost bitter, but you think he's taking it down. He's staring at the ancient tome of forbidden knowledge, "Physics" Randal Knight ISBN 0134110684.
>Is there ever an end to it?
oof, kids always know how to find the tough ones don't they?
>...I don't know. Maybe. Probably not.
>Mister, I think I now understand why this is...
A great thundering starts down the hall. The child yelps and starts scuffing out the circle with a hoof. Everything goes black and you feel yourself falling. And then you're stumbling in the cafeteria. Dizzy and odd aftertaste of battery acid.
>Hey! Wait a minute. That little punk owes me a snickers!
You find the nearest pen and paper and start drawing meticulous circles from memory. | The newest particle accelerator in the world isn't on the earth, it lies beneath the surface of the moon, encircling the entire satellite at its equator, the project itself was/is the largest civil engineering project in human history, which in turn created massive wealth from all the mineral wealth discovered, unknown alloys and gems were discovered in massive veins and pockets, the first years metal extraction paid for the entire project.
Dr. Brown is considered the greatest mind of his generation, holding multiple doctorates in mathematics, physics and chemistry while being considered for his second Nobel, all before his 50th birthday, life is pretty good he thought, the sound of the young woman sleeping entered his senses, soft, slow breathing mixed with post coital aromas and a slightly sweet perfume filled his mind with memories of the night before, very pleasant indeed, he thought back to his arrival and the subsequent festivities, life on the moon is very intimate, the small permanent population of 10,000 have intermarried and have several hundred children, everyone knows everyone else or they're relatives, his new found friend was very friendly and hospitable and her lack of inhibition breath taking!
Dr. Brown was in the main conference room reviewing the schedule for each phase of the current project , researching matter/antimatter reactions for a future propulsion design, creating a potential faster than light drive, Jan, get me materials engineering and ask where my metallurgical assays are? And tell the construction superintendent I expect the shielding walls to be completed by start up date, if they think they can squeeze another delay out of us and get paid they're mistaken.....a sudden acrid smell of ozone caught him off guard, his initial thought was "electrical fire" but the thunderclap and explosion knocked all thoughts out of his mind, the flash and explosion left him breathless and stunned, what followed next was......odd, the cloud of smoke began to clear and objects began to materialize, it looked like he was in a small room, someone's bedroom? A single bed was tucked into a corner and there were various posters of Rock bands, metal bands to be exact, while taking in the room the doctor turned and observed a person standing near the bed, looking like a young adolescent boy but something was different, he had cloven hooves and horns and a tail, his skin was oxblood red, his features flawless and perfect, beautiful, almost too beautiful, he was jumping up and down, very agitated , after awhile the ringing in his ears subside and he can hear what the young demon was shouting "it worked !!!-" he calmly asked" who are you and where am I?" You are my guest, and I am Lucian son of Lucifer and this is my home, I have brought you here to solve a problem, do you know how to do fractions? | 2020-09-16T20:39:37 | 2020-09-16T19:14:36 | 18 | 10 |
[WP] You are the king, after your daughter was kidnapped by a dragon you offered the standard reward to whoever rescued her. You weren't expecting a different dragon to rescue her.
Wow! I didn't think this would blow up like it did! Thank you all so much for all your stories. I haven't commented on all of them but they are all fantastic! | I was bouncing with excitement in my throne. Not only had my daughter been rescued from the dragon, but she also was rescued by one of her brave friends the same age as her! This would be a marriage that would go along very well.
One of my servants ran up to me. “Sir Grol, your daughter is back! And with her um.....savior...”
“Wonderful! Bring them both in! I want to meet this young stranger.” The servant saluted, and walked out of the room. I wondered who this brave lad would be. At such a young age, slaying a dragon? Perhaps the son of a knight. Or a wizard? Whatever it was, I was sure they’re very good.
Princess Diana walked into the room, still in her silver dress she was wearing a week ago. “Father!” She ran up to him, and hopped in my arms. I was overcome with joy, and hugged her tightly.
“Oh my daughter, I’m so glad you’re safe!”
“I’m perfectly fine Father! My friend saved me, and I’m so happy!”
“I’ve heard the wonderful news! Now where is he? I MUST meet him!”
Diana nodded, and ran back out of the room. She grabbed someone by the hand, and walked in with him. I sat up, and looked in wonder at the boy she was bringing in and...
Why it was just another dragon! A short one, the size of Diana. He was green, slightly chubby, with wings and a long head. He seemed to be a little shy, I could tell somehow. My smile dropped, and he slumped back into his chair.
The dragon eyed me, and bowed. “Hi your majesty. Sorry about keeping you waiting.”
I was confused. “Um...It’s no trouble. Diana, this is the boy who saved you?”
“He sure is! He’s amazing!” Diana hugged the dragon, and he blushed deeply.
“A young dragon.....slayed another dragon?......”
The dragon put his hands up to cut me off. “Oh no no no no no. That’s not what happened really. It’s a bit of a long story.”
“Well tell me then!”
The dragon cleared his throat, and coughed a bit. “Well, the dragon that you thought had ‘kidnapped’ her, was actually my mom. We were inviting Diana over to our mountain home for a play date!”
A....play date? I didn’t understand at all.
“We were playing at my place for a while, when Dad took us on a trip to the woods. We were walking around, and then we got separated. We got lost for a few days.
“The Woods were really scary father, but Owen found food!”
“We were lost for a few days, but Dad found us later, and flew us home. Then we ran into some issues at home, and here we are.” He was silent for a bit, so that was probably the end of the story.
Now it’s time for my problems with this. “I....I don’t understand. The townsfolk said they saw her being carried off by a dragon and screaming!”
Diana interjected, “That’s because it was really scary way up high! I was grabbing Owen the entire time.” Owen(the dragon I assumed) scratched the back of his head and chuckled.
“But if it was just a play date, why didn’t you just tell me?”
“I told Ms. Agatha. She said she was going to tell you!”
Oh....I sent her on vacation the same day. “But you said he ‘saved you.’ What did you mean by that?”
“Oh, oh yeah! While we were in the forest, we got stuck in a cave, surrounded by wolves! Owen scared them away with his fire, and flew us out!”
This was making even less sense every second.
“Ooh, and and! He saved me from a giant group of evil knights! When we got back, there were a lot of knights there! They were shouting and grabbing and pulling me, and Owen pulled me out of there, and saved me again! And then Mr. Dragon ate all of them! It was just the best week ever!”
This was twisting my entire mind. I thought my daughter had been tortured by an evil fire-breathing menace, when she was actually playing in the woods with a dragon boy. “W-Well.....As is tradition, saving the princess allows the boy to marry the princess. And you technically did save her, so therefore, you will marry the princess.”
Owen blushed again, while Diana was bouncing. “Yay!” She hugged him, and his entire face turned red.
“But given that both of you are seven, that might be a while.”
“Oh that’s ok! We can plan the perfect wedding in the mean time! Come on!” She dragged him out of the room.
Well, I’m gonna have to get used to a dragon son-in-law. This is gonna be interesting.
_____________
Feedback is appreciated! I hope you like my take on it.
Also if you guys want, I’ll do a part 2 with the king meeting the dragon parents.
| Long ago, before the empires of men, there was the tiny kingdom of Zhô that laid in the vale between myth and reality. Her armies infinite, her splendor incalculable, and her beauty...legendary. This drew the ire of the progenitors, the first race, the great dragons of creation. The most evil of these beings went only by Xi'Matet and its soul was as black as her scales. She had grown violent and jealous over the centuries, much to the peril of the tiny kingdom.
Then, one day towards the end of winter under the light of the second moon as the war was nearing the end, the princess of Zhô was stolen from her room in the castle. The scales and the utter devastation left no doubt as to the culprit. The king, distraught at the loss of his only child, offered the all but the kingdom for her safe return. His cries rallied the strong and broke the heart of any who could not give remedy, through him the world would come to know sadness. Word had spread throughout the land of his reward.
What happened next has never happened...and would never happen again in this age. A white dragon appeared at the great gates of Zhô calling for an audience. The king said, "For the safe return of my daughter I will give you anything you desire!" And the white dragon Set'kha accepted the offer, his eyes glowing like jade at the prospects of his reward.
Now, the mountain homes of dragons are rarely empty, and Xi'Matet was no exception. Wild packs of fell creatures and wild men from the great forests also called her temple home. Fires and death followed for days as the great wurms battled for dominance. Smoke and lightning filled the air...sickness and plagues wrenched the land. And all creation came to know suffering from the avarice that was borne from that great conflict.
At last the dark dragon was defeated and shackled in great stone chains beneath the earth. Cast down forever and kept eternally bound to Set'kha. The princess was brought before the great hero and they fell in love. The great dragon took human form and returned to the palace. There was much joy that day in Zhô...but it was not to last. The sorrow of the king had given way to hate and anger. His archers and their dragonbane arrows at the ready brought betrayal and deceit into the world that evening.
Set'kha died that night from his wounds, but he had already claimed his prize with the princess, so the great line of white dragons lived on. And that, my little hatchling, is why you don't trust humans.
| 2018-02-23T14:08:39 | 2018-02-23T12:59:22 | 54 | 16 |
[WP] The year is 2030, and the entire world is firmly under the control of the Australian Empire, and no one really understands how it happened. | The speaker blares "G'day! The time is now 5:30 pm proceed to your nearest pub and help yourself to a schooner. Long Live the Australian Empire!"
I am still in a little bit of shock while I listen to the speaker and seeing the mighty flag of the Australian Empire, fluttering in the breeze, over what was formally my nation's capital building. However, I and most everyone just kind of accepted it since we all had nothing else to lose. The world economy had finally collapsed after a slow downward spiral as a result of all the major powers implementing protectionist-beggar-thy-neighbor-policies in the late 2010s, which culminated in high levels of nationalism in all countries and general xenophobia in all nations leading to 90% poverty rates for everyone. Well everyone except Australia that is.
Australia seemed to avoid all of this because of two reasons. The first reason was the result of Australia's 1980 Travel Act (the Act). The Act was brilliant in its simplicity after its long preamble of the necessary nonsensical explanation of its purpose. It only had four requirements 1) all Australian's must travel the world for at least two years at some point between their 16th and 29th birthday; 2) while traveling abroad one must stay at Hostels and attempt to sleep with as many people as possibly; 3) in the pursuit of clause 2 all Australian's must ensure it is consensual; and 4) everyone that is encountered MUST walk away with a positive experience and a story to tell of either Australia or its people. What no one outside of Australia knew was that the Act's sole purpose was to populate the world with more Australians. Needless to say this Act was very popular with all of Australia's lads. Additionally, the Act was Australia's response to Ireland's 1979 Irish Pub Act, which was Ireland's attempt to conquer the world by seeding it with Irish Pub's. However, the sole difference between the two acts was that Australian's on a whole are pretty attractive and two sex is a bigger driving force than drinking.
As a result of the Act, the world slowly became populated with people who had a positive experience with an Australian while in a hostel, usually while drinking, and more importantly people of Australian descent increased immensely. Eventually, by 2030 one-third of the world's population could trace their lineage back to Australia.
The second reason for Australia's success was due to its number two and three export: adorable marsupials (Koalas, Wombats, and Kangaroos) and emu's. The number one export was obviously highly attractive Australian's that people wanted to have sex with. What nobody outside Australia realized was that the marsupials all had telepathic powers to convince everyone that Australia was amazing. If the sex and marsupials failed there was always the Emus to provide the necessary muscle to crush any resistance. Everyone outside of Australia forgot about the legendary Emu Wars of old, but those wars resulted in the Treaty of Uluru, which resulted in the Emu Confederacy teaming up with Australia.
As a result of these things being in place, all Australia had to do was bid its time. So it waited for the opportune moment like when the overall global economy completely tanked in 2030, with the exception of Australia's own economy. Australia finally initiated the final stage of its master plan of world domination, it offered citizenship to anyone of Australian descent. One-third of the world's population converted instantaneously as they had nothing to loose by converting. A majority of world governments seceded to Australia within days because most of the world leaders were also of Australian descent themselves or under the hypnotic spell of the marsupials. Some countries like the United Kingdom resisted initially to become part of a former Commonwealth country, but the Emu Confederacy quickly convinced them it was in their best interest.
Now at the end of 2030, the World has started a new Australian Renaissance or as some have stated Mankind's Golden Age. Everyone general agrees we seem to be better off.
Edits have been made since the original to clean things up and fix some typos. | It all began when the skies grew too full of soot to fly aircraft with any semblance of safety. Land and sea were the only options left. We were so concerned about Russia that we failed to even register there might be threats elsewhere. The Great Barrier Reef had been dead for years. Tourists never bothered to go out there anymore and thus no one saw the thousands of mines and the miles of blockades that had been dug deep into the old white reef.
China noticed it first, a massive gathering of troops forming at the Southeast Asia bottleneck. The leviathan grew with such rapidity it was as if being its own continent allowed the Aussies to grow at a faster rate than everyone else. It was concerning but there was no attack and though it was an army, it was still the peace-loving Australians.
That is when the maelstrom burst forth. The behemoth conquered Asia and the dice of destiny seemed to favor them on every roll. When the last of Siberia fell, the Australian army was growing at a rate that no other army on earth could match, not even as the Americas had united and become one. Crossing in the far north like our ancient brothers had first done long ago, Australia swept through the Western and Eastern United States, down to Mexico and through South America. Their original western front spewed into Africa and the divided armies there were little match for the unity they faced.
We now live in an upside down world. Maps have literally been flipped and we are ruled from down under. Who could have ever known that the peaceful army, waiting, and growing in Siam could have ever been such a Risk.
| 2017-02-14T11:16:18 | 2017-02-14T11:05:28 | 347 | 29 |
[WP] If you are reading this, you've been in a coma for 20 years. We are trying a new technique. We don't know where this message will end up in your dream, but we hope we are getting through. Please wake up. | Alaina sat in her car, phone in her hand.
The message had come as she turned the engine off, stopping her just before she went to unbuckle and get out. Her brow furrowed, trying to figure out who among her friends and family would be cruel enough to send such a thing.
There was no contact connected- just a series of numbers she didn’t recognize. Before she could take another action or even another breath, a second message came in.
*If you are reading this, you've been in a coma for 20 years. We are trying a new technique. We don't know where this message will end up in your dream, but we hope we are getting through. Please wake up.*
It was identical to the first one. The only thing that was different was the sender. Another series of numbers that at first glance, didn’t even look like a phone number. She didn’t even recognize the area code — it wasn’t from anywhere in her state.
By the time she had unbuckled, grabbed her purse, and made it into her office building, her phone had vibrated three more times. As she sat down at her desk and turned her computer on, she had heard it vibrate in her purse three *more* times.
It went off again as she pulled it out to try and silence the damned thing. As she glanced at the messages, her heart began to thump faster. The joke wasn’t funny the first time, and now she was at 9 identical texts.
*If you are reading this, you've been in a coma for 20 years. We are trying a new technique. We don't know where this message will end up in your dream, but we hope we are getting through. Please wake up.*
Every one of them was from a different number, none of which she recognized. She opened up one of them at random and shot a message back.
*Who is this? Who put you up to it?*
If they didn’t answer, she planned to go on to the next one. And then the next.
Putting all notifications on silent, she slid her phone into her desk drawer and tried to focus on work.
*They’ll get bored,* she thought, wiggling her mouse to make the screen come to life faster.
It never worked, but it didn’t stop her hand from trying every morning. It did make her feel a little bit more foolish that day than normal, however. Shaking her head she stood up. Windows would start when it started, and it would move at whatever pace it wanted to. It always did.
Instead of staring, and stewing, and feeling a little bit crazy, she stood up and walked to the break room. She needed coffee, and she needed to clear her head. The faces of her co-workers along the way helped to ground her.
A little bit.
Within five minutes she had a cup of thick coffee that was too hot to drink, and a chest full of new air, and she hoped the day would settle in. Her average, 9-5, nothing weird day. The thought was rotating around her head as she sat down, and opened up her outlook.
Waiting for her was 36 new emails, all with the same subject.
*If you are reading this, you've been in a coma for 20 years. We are trying a new technique. We don't know where this message will end up in your dream, but we hope we are getting through. Please wake up.*
"What the fuck." The words slid out of her mouth before she could stop them. She barely even heard her own voice, with how distracted it all had made her.
When a hand landed on her shoulder, a yelp rang out and she jumped half an inch off her chair.
A low chuckle came from her cubicle mate as she turned to see who had snuck up on her. "You okay, Sarah?" he asked.
Alaina's brain froze, wondering what exactly had happened to her world.
/r/beezus_writes | "Heh", I said out loud as I looked around. My coworkers just busily typing away, oblivious to all but their work.
*Yeah, that would explain why I'm just sitting here alone, staring at this stupid message.*
I shove myself away from my desk, preparing to get up and step away to clear my head. But the message, still flashing on my screen, strikes a nerve and I can't tear myself away.
*... Well, if this is all just a dream, let's have some fun...*
Abruptly, my pants hit the ground in one quick motion... followed by the rest of my clothes.
"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?!?!?!"
I smirk. "Like I care what you think, Jim or whatever your name is...." Of course my asshole boss is the first to notice, maybe I'll just go piss on his desk...
"DAMMIT -- Bill, get security. As for you...."
My smirk is suddenly wiped from my face as "Jim" grabs me and shoves me into a side cubicle. I trip and -CRACK- right onto my face on the desktop. Stars sparkle...
*Wow... this is a vivid dream... Wait, can your vision even have that swirly effect in a dream? Oh, crap, what if that was just a bullshit writing prompt?*
"Um... Jim? I think we have a misunderstanding here...." | 2022-12-02T19:29:33 | 2020-01-16T09:13:25 | 62 | 11 |
[WP] Scientists invented a pill that enables dogs to fully speak and understand English. It lasts for ten minutes, and will only work one time. You give a pill to your 12 year-old Border Collie, whom you've had since they were a pup. Your dog immediately says "Alright, listen very carefully..." | I sat back in the leather the chair while my dog stared back silently at me. She was smart, too smart. In the past 15 years she'd learned much and instantly knew that what I had given her was more then peanut butter on a spoon.
The room became uncomfortably quiet. The ceiling fan cast shadows against the tan wall while the sun burned through the east facing window.
Was I wrong, had I not read the instructions correctly knowing this was my one and only chance.
"You!" she said.
In shock I listened as this small 8 pound Yorkshire Terrier stood up with a prideful pose that could only have been passed down from generations of much larger Terriers.
"You, gonna put me on your lap or what?"
Puzzled at the simplicity of the question, I complied.
"You know I really do love this. To me there's nothing better than cuddle time. I just wish you'd move this chair to the other side of the room though. I'd love to have some sun on me while I relax."
"You remember that first day we met, when I slowly walked over to chew on your shoe. I picked you, you know."
I looked down and smiled as I ran my hand through her long soft silvery hair. It's funny that the medicine was having the opposite effect on me.
"I know that I haven't been that active lately, but I'm sure you know why."
As I rubbed her back, my fingertips felt the same typical lumps I'd learned to expect.
“It’s ok she said, the pain isn’t as bad today, but I know I can’t continue at this pace.” she looked up at me with her tiny black adorable eyes. “I’m happy to have been able to share this time with you and I know I couldn’t have picked a better owner, you’ve meant the world to me.”
Just then my other dog, a slightly pudgier black Yorkshire Terrier walked by.
“Don’t bother to give him a pill she said, we all know he’s an idiot, but he’s a nice idiot. And I have to say in these past 8 years that adorable chunk has grown on me. Make sure you give him some love now and then when I’m gone.”
Finally I mustered the courage to ask the question that I’d been afraid to ask from the beginning. But without getting a chance to speak she answered.
“Let’s make this our last month, I don’t want you to worry anymore and I want you to know I’ll be fine. If it’s true what they say, I’ll be there waiting for you… in the end.”
She lay her head down on my lap and suddenly went silent.
I carefully moved her to the side as I gradually got up from my chair. I gently rocked the chair until it moved towards the east window and walked out of the room and into the kitchen to compose myself.
My stalky black and tan dog followed me and walked towards the water bowl. The little ball of muscle and fur looked at an empty spot on the carpet then began to scratch on a plastic bin filled with his food. I walked over and reached for a cup which I used to scoop some food out.
“Only half a cup I said” as I spread the pieces on the ground. Undeterred, he moved towards the food pile as if I had said nothing.
I looked out the window and watched as empty birch trees stood motionless in the yard. The cool breeze outside did nothing to sway them.
“It’s going to be a cold winter, isn’t it.” I said to myself. | "Alright listen very carefully, we don't have much time." Barks Sonny, "follow me."
He races off through to doggy door into the back yard. I fumble with the back door for a second and I try to chase after my beloved dog. I barely reach him as he slips under the hedge of our garden. When I crawl under, I realized I've somehow entered an extensive lab. "Quickly! Here, take this list of names. We are a foundation committed to stoping an evil organization called B.O.R.K. They're breeding and weaponizing dogs all over the globe in the attempt to take control over the earth. That list I gave you has all of our operatives in the field. I hope you stocked up on pills. Find them and track down B.O.R.K. Stop them from taking over the world."
What the fuck just happened!? I think to myself as I look into the eyes of our once again mute dog... | 2017-02-23T06:59:37 | 2017-02-23T06:16:15 | 32 | 17 |
[WP] The Megalomaniacal Supervillain assumed you, a renowned scientist, would object to being kidnapped and forced to build superweapons at his hidden volcano lair. In reality, however, you're just really excited to finally play around with unlimited funding. | Molten lava. Not something I'd expected to see in a villain's main base. But at the same time, I wasn't expecting myself to be kidnapped so easily as well. Someone printed a 3D mask of my face inside the lab, took my fingerprints via handshake.. yadda yadda...
Well, we all know how it ends.It ends with me, tied to an honest-to-god chair inside a perfectly white room. Also, thirsty. Very thirsty. At least they only tied my left leg.
The light hurts my eyes. So I close them. I close them and try to guide my mind away from all the horror stories I've read. Away from the tank full of sharks to the green meadows outside. It'll be okay, the marines will burst in any moment now. They'll arrest the person who knocked me on the head and lead me back.
Back to the thankless old grind. Back to where I can enjoy begging the Department Head for more funding. Why give more funding when I get required results with an insubstantial amount, they say. It improves my efficiency, they say. I would like to think so too.. that the long nights at work, calling favours from old friends.. was it worth it? Did my inventions help change the world?
But no. I have no power to create. Or rather, I chose not to. My inventions specialize in getting rid of things. Things which take months and years to build. A bitter irony, I believe. The inventor getting tired of their own inventions.
Enough thinking. Someone is coming. I open my eyes and straighten my collar. My last moments shall not be with an unkempt uniform. To think I'm getting emotional over a deeper meaning that this uniform no longer has. Facing death makes one appreciate these small things. To think I still haven't sewn my third button.
She comes in. Normal attire. Is she the leader? I presume yes. Very well, I wish her a good evening. If it's still evening. She responds back, surprisingly serene. Asks me if I require anything. I gratefully request some cold water. It arrives, carried by an aide with a folder.
I drink. If they wished to poison me, would they not have done so earlier? Maybe it would have been for the best. Nevermind. I manually remove that thought from my brain. No need to get into *that* train of thoughts right now. First some basic questions.
As if reading my mind, she continues. Asks me about some personal details. I answer promptly. Then proceeds to tell me about herself. I wonder if this is what they call a monologue. First time for everything. I have a feeling that I'll be interested in the way this person thinks. Some of her points find structurally solid arguments in me.
Her gaze is a bit unsettling. Does she ever smile? Does she know how to? Shaking my head, I clear this line of thought. She has been explaining her ideals up till now. I didn't hear them properly. She asks if I did. I nod. She asks if I understand. I nod once again, slowly. She stands up and offers her hand. This is a critical moment. Should I stand or politely refuse?
​
==================================================================
​
Work has been going well. Inspiration came from the newest samples found near the last nuclear fallout area.
We found microbes which digest nuclear material. Corrupting it from the inside, slowly but surely. It acts on refined nuclear fuels. Leaching off them to convert them into (still toxic) but no longer material usable in bombs. I am currently working on decreasing the time taken by them to finish the job.
A cruel task, someone would say. An idea perfectly taken from a villainess's mind. It would ruin atomic plants everywhere. Set the progress back by a decade. Ruin the infrastructure, help our boss to take over the world and get a single world order in place. Probably cause a lot of pain to people.
I had stopped worrying about that a long time ago.
You see, the world had been simmering with nuclear bombs in the last few decades. And calls to unify the entire world and stop the conflict were cast out. The people who took action ostracized and forgotten. But they had not forgotten the destruction by the nuclear weapons. They did not want another repetition. Hence came the perfect idea. The unstoppable threat. The impossible plan.
We had covertly taken over almost all the sources of uranium. A rather large achievement by itself, considering the security there. But that was not the issue. The issue was the current stockpile in hands of the nations. They would use it rather than risk losing control of their country.
Oh well.
Apologies to my former co-workers trying to figure out a solution to this weird phenomena about to hit the entire world. Although you all wouldn't have to wait too long.
A change of state shall be taking place shortly.
​
<--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------->
My second prompt :D | "Why do you \*need\* a plasma cutter from Area 51 specifically? I already bought you a plasma cutter. I can't just hit up the POTUS and demand assets. You are aware that this organization is outside the law right?"
I stopped tightening the screws on my new supercomputer. Turned to my captor and told him "Because a plasma cutter probably means something different to aliens than it does to you and I. You say you want to "slice a fool" with your thoughts but fail to regard the kind of tech that can pull that off. I already built the neural interface, but the brain wants a clean slice, or else you get dissonance and the system fails. A clean slice is not possible without plasma."
The man who stole me away from my scientific glamour and reduced me to an engineer sneered. "Well build a plasma cutter yourself then!" He glanced his watch. "Dammit I'm about to be late for my meeting with the board! Stop guzzling funds and start making me weapons."
As he exited I flipped him off and called out "Good Lord Brush, no wonder your company hates you, clearly you don't understand how work works."
I moved on to the neural interface and did some calculations. \*Yeah asshole, just keep on that board meeting. Once I'm done all cash and assets of one Billy Brush will be controlled by me. Then I can bolster my scientific career with a weapons line.\* As my calculations completed I grabbed a cup of Ribena from the Nat King Cole themed mini fridge I requisitioned. After finishing my drink I worked quickly to hook up the neural interface and a drone system to an old m63 light machine gun. Good for demonstration, Brush would gawk at a floating gun.
An hour later, Brush came back to see my progress. "Got anything good?" He spoke in an exasperated tone. I donned the neural interface and flew the m60 out of a hiding spot behind a bunch of toolboxes. Brush could only say "yes", and he had said it about 20 times in the first minute. After demonstrating the aiming and firing capability, Brush simply had to try it out.
That's when my trap sprung. The neural interface recognized Brush's brain from a brain scan I made him do, and instantly activated it's main function. Brush was now under my suggestion, and there was nothing he could do to save his company. The time had come for me to take back my freedom, and bring home a metric ton of bacon. | 2020-10-05T15:27:02 | 2020-10-05T14:14:27 | 229 | 95 |
[WP] We “knew” humans were weak as they avoided every war with diplomacy. We never imagined they’d be this ruthless & how seemingly overnight they went from peaceful beings to a state they call “TOTAL WAR”. War is in their blood & soul. They thrive on it, mostly when the odds are against them | The Terrans had built Universities, hospitals, revolutionized inter-stellar commerce. They worked as ambassadors to negotiate peace and trade deals amongst the galactic community. Their few colonies built on out of the way unhospitable worlds. Their fleet was made of trade vessels, science ships, and pleasure yachts. They had a reputation as bringers of peace, knowledge, and healing. Then came the Garanzan incident.
The Garanzan we new to the interstellar community, warlike, domineering, and powerful. Their armada outnumbered the combined forces of the allied races, they conquered whole worlds in a matter of days. When the Garanzan entered Melcap space the Melcap reached out Humanity to help negotiate a peace settlement.
The Terrans send their premier ambassador to an arranged peace conference hosted by the Melcap. The entire Garanzan fleet showed up to the appointed meeting station and murdered the Melcap and Terran diplomats and broadcast the gruesome killings across known space.
Three days later another Terran ambassador was dispatched to to the Garanzan home world with a single message. "Cease all hostilities at once or the United Terran Forces will declare war on the Garanzan." The Garanzan's sent back his head as a declaration of war.
The Garanzan turned their fleets from the Melcap and attacked all known Terran colonies. For six months the Garanzan attacked and butchered humans ill equipped to fight against such military might. But even those fights became brutal battles against insurgencies, suicide attacks, and desperate counter attacks all meant to buy time. While the Allied races stood by and watched they knew Humanities time on the intergalactic stage was up. The Garanzan were too powerful, too numerous, and too blood thirsty to be stopped.
Then came Terran Armada. After half of year of holding actions and watching their people die humanity struck back. The Garanzan were assaulting the human space platform Excalibur, a human outpost built for the Alliance to foster learning, trade and diplomacy. The station was a bastion of learning, commerce, and the best hospital in known space. Excalibur station was a massive installation of over one hundred thousand humans. The Garanzan saw the station as a monument to Terran weakness.
General Gaulfluax recounts that day;
"I ordered targeting on the facilities power generators to bring down their pitiful shields and allow our boarding craft to send reavers onto the station."
"I had lead the campaign on the Ceti 4 colony and knew there would be heavy if ineffectual resistance. The humans were inventive and tenacious, but no match for reavers in full battle armor. I wanted to take the station as intact as possible to plunder it's technology. Humans were weak but their technology was far ahead of ours in terms of medicine and science."
"Just as the shields faltered and I ordered the attack craft away a massive energy surge was reported above my fleet. A full Terran battle group emerged from space fold in perfect attack formation. You laugh now, but we had no clue then what we were up against."
"Admiral McMullen opened hail to my ship and delivered an ultimatum. 'Surrender now or face destruction, you have 3 minutes' and signed off. I laughed, what could a single battle group do against my entire fleet. I stopped laughing after our assault craft were blown out of stars."
"Have you every seen a Saturn Knight tear an assault craft apart? They use quantum energy blasts to take down our shields and then just rip the ships apart with their lances. And they can deploy dozens of them, each so small you can't see them on the scopes, I don't know how they do it."
"Worse is the main cannon's on their assault ships, an energy beam a mile wide and ten miles long that annihilates anything in it's path. My fleet was torn to shreds after the first volley. To think all it took was six months to build such powerful weapons."
General Gaulflaux surrendered after seven and a half minutes of combat. His fleet lost ninety percent of it's ships. The Terran vessels suffered zero losses. After the formal declaration of war Humanity reconstituted it's naval academy and repurposed and expanded the Mars foundries into an orbital ship yard capable of producing the massive warship in under a month. Marines were dispatched to colony worlds knowing they'd never return home to hold back the tides and buy humanity the time it needed to build a fleet capable of taking down the Garanzan.
It happened all across the Garanzan empire. Terran battle groups would spacefold into attack position, demand surrender and open fire if no response was given. The Terran war machine turned out ships and crews at such a rate that their enemies were out numbered in just over two years of war.
Terran Ambassadors now travel on small naval warships and are flanked at diplomatic events by Saturn Knights. The Terran Armada provides security across a thousand systems. And the Garanzan, they are slowly rebuilding their society with the assistance of the Terran Peace Corp. | "We all know they're weaklings, Commander Smith," The soldier said, saluting Commander Smith, "I mean, come on, they don't know how to fire gamma-rays. In fact, they haven't built any spaceships yet."
"That's enough, Soldier 92-BII," said Commander Smith, "We're headed to their planet. The news spread that it colonized all of their star system after finishing the completion of Pluto a
'dwarf planet'. What a strange term." Commander Smith walked through the hallway.
Soldier 92-BII looked out the window. The spherical object he saw had a red and gray surface, with a layer of nitrogen shaped as a heart. Nearby was another gray object, but one of it's poles was orange. "How fascinating. It seems yellow dwarves have the strongest gravity of all the stars." Soldier 92 said.
A few minutes later, they had an encounter with a giant, dark blue orb with a relatively large moon. The ship steered towards the moon and eventually landed.
Various soldiers began walking onto the surface of the alien world that was being controlled by humans. Amongst hushed tones, Soldier 92 learned that the name of the moon was 'Triton' and the planet it was orbiting was named 'Neptune'. "This is a true alien world." Soldier 92 said before realizing that Triton was his stop, so he scurried off.
Looking around the icy world were giant structures made of metal and glass, rising high into the night sky. Some were connected. Humans could be seen walking amongst the city on the alien world, thriving. However, the peace ended, disturbed by a scream. Soldier 92 ran over to the source of the scream. Another soldier, Soldier 98-7BG, had stabbed a human in the chest. "What?!" Soldier 92 grunted angrily when he was tackled by a human, who was furious.
"KILL THE ALIENS!" Someone said over an intercom.
Total war had started. To 92's surprise, the human he was dueling was incredibly strong. Several of his allies' bodies began crashing onto the ground of Triton.
Suddenly, a flicker of silver light. Humans left and right fell to the ground, their weapons disappearing. It was Commander Smith. "92, what happened? Why did this start?"
"W-well, uh, 98 decided to stab a human, and apparently that made the rest of them mad, so then they started dueling us. To my surprise, they were holding their own. We have several fatalities, including 98." explained 92, gesturing to the corpses of his allies.
"This is going to be one of many, I can just feel it." | 2022-08-05T12:41:23 | 2022-08-05T10:57:14 | 374 | 107 |
[WP] So many new exoplanets are being discovered that "planet deeds" now make well-known novelty gifts. You recieved such a deed last year on your birthday, legally making you the owner of one such planet - and, only a moment ago, heard on the news that life has just been discovered on it. | Gina sat beside me, quivering with delight but I felt numb and removed from the world, as if I was in some sort of half coma. Gina's voice is all echoey and distant and it was only when she bit my wrist that I came out of my trance.
"Ouch. Gina!"
"Get up and dance with me. Come on! Why aren't you excited?! Do you realise what this means at all?"
"Um..." I felt dizzy, and it took all my willpower not to bury my head into the sofa.
"Oh my goodness. OH MY GOODNESS! I can't believe it! And it's your planet, *our* planet! Can you imagine?"
A chilly wind blew in from the open window, and when I looked through it at the sky, looking for some kind of touch with reality, something to bring me back to earth, it was cloudy, forbidding and not at all reassuring.
"It's going to rain," I said quietly, but Gina wasn't listening, she was jumping up and down and fighting the air and moving to the bar to get us drinks.
"Drinking isn't *even* on par with my excitement," she said when she returned with two beer bottles. "Like you have no idea! Oh, look, Aganji sent me a text! And Jane and Terry. Wow, I've got like 30 messages. And... they're all congratulatory! Check your phone I bet you got loads! Why aren't you excited, you're killing my mood here!"
She gave me a nudge and I attempted to smile but it felt tense and fake and I hoped she wouldn't notice. This was all too much for me, I felt like the table and the TV (still showing the reporter who broke the news) and the armchair and refrigerator were moving towards me in this slow, taunting way.
"I'm going to lie down for a bit, if you don't mind," I said to Gina and her smile faltered but then, creepily, sprang back up almost at once, unable to help itself.
******
Apparently the exoplanet had life. And not even meagre life, not bacteria or some hardcore kind of insect, but real furry little things with 3 eyes and two legs and long slim bodies, quite like mongooses but with a glowy, surreal kind of air because their fur emitted light when they felt "intense emotions", the scientists said. I'm expected to be at a press conference, because I'm now like the president of that planet or something, and Gina will not hear anything about me not attending.
"Smile. Please," she said, when I was seconds away from being called on stage and I put on the best smile I could.
After a series of questions from excited reporters, which I answered awkwardly and in a cold sweat, they showed us, on a large screen at the front of the room, more footage of the creatures scuttling about on the rough terrain of my planet. It's weird that I felt nothing but revulsion and it must have shown on my face because Gina sent me a text reading "*Smile ffs!!!*".
When the video ended to a thundering round of applause, a reporter asked me if, given the choice, I would like to live with these animals. I answered before I could stop myself or look towards Gina for guidance.
"Uh, no. Never."
The reporters and photographers exchanged looks. I knew the best thing at this point, the smart thing, was to shut up but I continued anyway spurred on by a rage that, perhaps, was stoked from seeing the infuriatingly bemused expressions of the faces around me.
"I mean why would I want to live with weird little rats on a planet far from home? Why are we so intent on finding life on other planets when we haven't even explored most of our oceans? When we haven't learnt everything about life on our planet. I mean this whole title deeds on another planet is so stupid, I frankly only accepted one as a gift on my birthday to please my twin sister Gina so she, so we, could feel somehow important. You know: ruling a world and all that junk. I mean if we continue at this, finding far away planets, we're not going to come across furry cute little creatures but monsters that'll destroy us in a flash. Or worse: enslave us. So, honestly I find this whole thing stupid. Sorry."
There was such a deadly quiet in the room after I stopped fuming that I could hear the frantic heartbeat of the man sitting next to me on the stage. And when my phone beeped, signaling another message from Gina, it sounded like an explosion had gone off.
| "Mom? Is this a joke?"
"What?"
"The deed. You saw the news, didn't you? There's life on Rigellion Five!"
"Wonderful news, Matt, just wonderful."
"What? No, it's not wonderful. Did you have any idea what you were giving me?"
"There are a lot of terms and conditions. I thought it would just be a nice little thing you could tuck away and show some nice girl someday. Or nice guy. Or nice alien."
"Mom. I called the company. There is a good chance you find life on these places--I asked them about it. You're supposed to use one of the bigger places; they actually *scan* for life before selling titles. Do you know what you've done to me?"
"Darling, it's just a fun little thing."
"No! It's a big thing. I'm a colonizer now. I've got to meet this life and make a judgment about it--whether to let it be or to save it, or kill it. You want to make me a murderer, Mom? Is that your idea of a Christmas present?"
"Son, there are places that will clean these up for you. Just call someone. Use my card number if you must."
"It's an ethical problem, Mom. Biggest one I've ever seen. Next time just don't send me anything, all right?"
"Matthew."
"I've got enough to deal with at work and with--uh, with myself right now."
"Are you seeing someone?"
"No." *You're not the only one who thrives on misinformation.*
"I'm sorry it upset you. I thought you'd like to have something to take care of. Maybe grow some kind of exotic garden or something. I want you to be happy, Matthew."
"This isn't some garden, Mom, it's a new world. And now I've got to take care of it."
"We've asked you about grandchildren. Before we're dead."
"Well, there's not going to be any time for that now," Matthew replied. "Wait--"
"Love you, Matthew. Dad says hi."
----------
r/GubbinalWrites | 2017-01-01T10:28:59 | 2017-01-01T09:41:04 | 102 | 56 |
[WP] WritingPrompt: A man asks you in a shakey voice if you're alright. You hesitantly say yes, to which he responds by getting a look of terrified horror and screams "I knew it! You can see them too! Don't let them get you!" | My hands shook as I sat hunched in the park bench, biting my lip to stop the screams from tumbling out. They were getting closer. Never before had they gotten closer. They were tall and crooked, whiter than snow, their eyes a blaring yellow that cut right through me. They always stood a fair distance away, and I seemed to be the only one to see them. The first time was when I was 9, and there were two, brother and sister. They stood in the corner of my room, holding hands, their skin white and eyes bright yellow.
I could tell the males apart from females because the males were shorter. They always just stood and stared, their perfect white skin a stark contrast to the shadows of my room. I was never scared of them, because they were calm and peaceful.
But today they moved closer, well, more like glided. It was just a few feet, but it was enough to send me spiralling, as I had never seen them move before. They always just watched from afar.
The light hand on my shoulder almost made me jump out of my skin. I looked up and saw a man standing over me, his skin dark and his eyes warm:
"Are you alright, miss?"
I bit my lip and choked out a hesitant: "Y-yes.."
As soon as I'd spoken, the man's hand on my shoulder stiffened and his eyes widened, hardering:
"I knew it! You can see them too! Don't let them get you!"
It took me a moment to process his words until it clicked and I was on my feet in an instant:
"You see them?! Describe them!"
The man shook his head as if to clear it and spoke:
"Tall, white, yellow eyes. Males shorter than females."
My mouth hung agape:
"Yes! You can really see them?"
He merely nodded. I beckoned him to sit down with me and he complied.
"They're closer aren't they?" He asked, staring straight at one female. They usually appeared in groups of 2-4, but never alone.
"Yes. Just before you approached me, one of them slid closer."
"They aren't hostile, but..there's something off about them still."
I hummed in agreement. Just then, one female began gliding ever closer to us. Me and my new friend froze on the bench, our shoulders touching as we stared at her coming closer.
It wasn't long before she was upon us. She stood so close I could smell a beautiful smell wafting off of her pure white skin. Lavander.
She stared down at us, a thin line across her face, which I assumed was her mouth, twisting into a gentle smile.
I dared a glance at my companion and he seemed just as entranced as I was. I looked back up into her yellow eyes. They were full of bizzare images and flashes. I got a crushing feeling wrapping around my shoulders and my breath hitched. Then she moved her hands and placed one gentle palm upon my cheek, and the other on the man's. I heard him softly suck in a breath between his teeth. I held my breath, her cool palm gentle cupping my cheek.
She never spoke, but I knew what she was asking of us, and I agreed. I felt no resistance, and by the looks of it, neither did my friend. I closed my eyes and reached deep inside of me, then stood, the female letting her hands drop from our faces. I opened my eyes and looked at the man, then back at the bench. Our bodies sat there, with empty eyes and hollow insides. The man reached out his hand and I accepted it, staring ahead at Omna'ya. I knew her name now, I knew all of their names. All of *our* names. | "I knew it! You can see them too! Don't let them get you!", exclaimed the man.
"See what?", I asked gently. The man was clearly agitated and I didn't want to aggravate him further.
"The whites, man! They are all around and they are nasty!"
Tears started leaking from the man's eyes. His fists clenched and unclenched rapidly. He was clearly in pain.
I leaned in and whispered, "I know. Don't let them know that I can see them too. I'll get you out soon. Until then stay out of trouble."
"Stay out of trouble...sure I can do that. Thank you, oh thank you. Don't let them keep me here any longer", the man begged me.
"I won't, don't worry."
I walked out carefully and turned round the corner. My partner was waiting and all ears.
"Increase the dosage and let me carry the medication from now on. He seems to respond well to me"
"Understood, Doctor."
I stepped into my office and opened my diary. I dipped my nib in ink and pondered over the words before writing them down,
"Patient can finally see them. That makes all Five including me. Moving to Phase 2 of the operation..." | 2019-07-01T09:29:42 | 2019-07-01T09:12:36 | 18 | 12 |
[WP] As it turns out, the Avatar is still being reborn to this day. Unfortunately, if the government finds the Avatar, they’re killed before they liberate society. The handful of Benders left are few and far between. And you, an introverted Earthbender, just froze the liquid in your cup of tea. | The students filed into the cafeteria in a moderate pace. There were trays on a table at the start of the lunch line, with napkins and utensils neatly organized. My class moved mechanically; three years of college and twelve years of grade school provided more than enough muscle memory for this.
The only sounds reverberating were the shuffling of feet, a low murmur amongst the tables, and plastic spoons clattering against metal pots and pans. I had not checked the menu when I entered the line, but the smell of beef stock - and what I hoped was bread - told me all I needed to know. I would need a cup of something to wash it down. I grabbed a cup.
There weren’t ever many choices in the exquisite cuisine of *Shisa Academy.* In truth, there weren’t many choices in this college. *You take a major after you study for three years. Sleep when the dorm lights turn off. No talking in the lunch line.* Had I not been gifted tuition here due to my father’s work, there still wouldn’t be much choice in a different school. Order had been established, and it was quite peaceful and progressive, if at times aggressively so. There was no room in this world for chaos and propaganda, and myths like an ‘Avatar’ - not sure what that means - would stir negativity in places with so many people at once.
My mind tends to wander to strange places when I try to avoid something, like the smell of - *is that a paste?* - something hopefully more edible than last Friday’s meal. Rei stood next to me. Her face contorted as the cook slapped the *mixture* on to her tray. She looked at me to save her, shoulder-length strands brushing away from her pained eyes. I held up my cup before giving her a shrug, and proceeded to the tea basin.
When I finally sat with my class of fellow third-years, I took a good look. For the next three years we’ll be in different classes, finally studying our respective majors, becoming the future leaders of our country. I hadn’t paid much attention earlier, but I was sure sometime over the last year Elisa dyed her hair a darker shade. Isaiah was the same as ever, sneaking on his litePod when the enforcers weren’t looking. He found a way to bypass the wireless security before attending courses. The twins, Sung and Huin, played a game together on their own litePods. Then there was Rei, the only other person I really talked to in class, sitting on the corner picking at her meat paste.
Barry, Elias, and Amin huddled together, body language louder than their voices. Jang-suk and Martha, the longest lasting couple in the entire school, huddled together; her tight dark curls covered the earbuds they shared. Other faces and names I’d gotten used to - Ronni, Elmer, Sayuri, Sheila - people I might’ve gotten to know, if it had not been for my father. My career politician father, and his bender-free college. This was supposedly a haven for nonbenders, those who couldn’t interact with the natural elements, but there were more than a few sympathizers to the dying breed. I might’ve gotten to know some of them, if it wouldn’t ruin his career.
*It’s alright*, I thought. And it is, in truth. I’ve made friends here, and though I’ve kept my own bending a secret, I’m sure they wouldn’t mind. The benders left in the world don’t do much more than an average low-class citizen, if they haven’t been evicted from their houses. If they had houses at all. Much stigma remained about us despite our - my ancestors, I suppose - part in establishing peace in the world. There just weren’t many protections in place for the few benders left, and some of them found housing together, I’ve heard. There was a culture there, at least. Maybe there are more benders than we think. Maybe I’ll visit them, when I graduate in three years. *Maybe I can get away from my father...*
Wrapped in my mind again, I must’ve missed Rei take a bite of that paste, because she urged me to hand her my tea. I handed it to her, only or her to thrust it back at me forcefully after taking a sip. The cup was still so warm that I almost dropped it.
“Was it hot?” I let some smugness sneak into my question.
“Oh light,” Rei managed to choke out between spitting and coughing. “I need to start bringing in my own food. I can’t tell if that’s fish or mulch.” I thought I smelled beef earlier.
I decided to nix the food and took off the lid to cool my tea down. Rei never said much, but it was always pleasant when we had banter. “You think they have food-benders out there?” she went on. “Or flavor benders? You’d think with all this higher education they would hire better cooks.” Her face was still twisted with her mouth full of aftertaste.
“Heh, maybe. Did you see the video on Seddit with the Soundbender?” I blew on the tea.
“She popped one dude’s eardrums when they tried to arrest her.” The voice belonged to Isaiah. “They probably thought she was the Avatar.” Surely he was a sympathizer. He said he’d major in history at the start of this year, and I’ve seen the articles he reads on his litePod about bending. “I mean, no one’s even heard of Soundbending, and Lavabenders and Metalbenders haven’t been discovered for decades.
“Chris?” said Rei.
Lava? My throat caught. “I didn’t know that was even possible...”
“Yeah! And just imagine, if there were Lightbenders-“
“Chris!” Rei again. “How did you do that?”
I finally turned to her. “Do what?” Suddenly something felt odd. No, it felt cold. It was my hand. In it was a frosted cup of tea.
I heard Isaiah gasp. This was a problem. Two people had seen me bend in a nonbending area, and if I was unlucky, so did an enforcer.
The worst part was, water wasn’t my element. | I know bending is cool and all, and I love reading the Legends, but I never believed it had any place in the modern world. When it comes to escapist mythology, well; I'm still waiting for my letter from Hogwarts. That always seemed like a better fit. I love books, and learning, I can do that. Martial Arts, on the other hand, always seemed out of reach.
That doesn't mean I didn't try it. My older brother and I tried every type of sparring as kids. We'd watch wrestling and immediately create personalities, costumes, trash talk, and full Nelsons. After one of those holds, I couldn't walk for a week. Then there was an ancient copy of the Matrix, and we stole mom and dad's coats and went at it. I think I only came out of that with a concussion and a black eye.
You can see the pattern, right? Of course it was my golden boy older brother who changed my reality forever. This time we weren't playing, we were fighting. That happened a lot when my parents weren't around. It's hard for kids, stuck in the house all the time for safety, filled with dreams from our scholar-parents giant collection of historical media.
Rather than think about all the dangers they faced out there, we cursed the home we were trapped in, our scraped together "education", and each other, the only people we ever got to see. So we're fighting, no holds barred. He's double my weight, with a longer reach and muscles. I'm small and desperate, seizing any opportunity to go for vulnerable areas and race back out of range.
Usually I could wear him down, but he wasn't getting any less mad. Suddenly, our stone fireplace seems to move on its own, and it's coming at me! Next thing I know, I'm in the room my parents designate as a hospital, since we could never afford a real one. I'm covered in scratches, bruises, and mortar dust. My brother is looming more contrite than I've ever seen him.
"I'm so sorry", dad muttered, handing me a cup of tea, "I never thought either of you would be able to..." *able to what?* "Your grandparents were earthbenders."
"What are you talking about? There hadn't been a bender in centuries. If they were still around, we'd know. Might as well tell me polar bear dogs aren't extinct."
"Our government has worked very hard to make it so", mom said, tears in her eyes.
Dad rubbed his temples like a headache was coming on, "Why do you think we never sent you to school?"
"We couldn't afford it" I said bitterly.
"That's part of it. But we didn't want you exposed to their propaganda, their revisionist history. They'd have you believe they, and they only, have the answer to the Great Divide. Our poverty would never keep us from the benefits the Donors can provide. It's brainwashing. They'd turn you against our family without you even knowing who we are."
"Who are we?"
"The last of the ancient families. They'd kill us if they knew your grandparents were born in the earth kingdom."
"So I can earthbend?" I asked, suddenly thinking Hogwarts wasn't my only hope.
"No", mom said, "he can", gesturing to my unusually quiet, unusually guilty-looking brother.
"I could've killed you" he said.
"Oh" *of course, I'm not special, golden boy is* I felt bitter bile rise up my throat. I hated myself and the tiny world I inhabited.
Then CRACK, my mother gasped, and I watched the pieces of ceramic fall away from my now-frozen cube of tea.
The tiny world I resented seemed to shrink away, and all I wanted was to have it back. | 2018-01-21T13:40:22 | 2018-01-21T12:56:42 | 25 | 12 |
[WP] God is actually just 3 smaller gods in a trench coat. | Brahma was the "legs" of the operation. However of course, this meant his face was always concealed. In other words, no one ever saw him as the Godhead. Vishnu and Shiva often bickered about who should sit at the top. The Vaishnavas always saw the Absolute when Vishnu was sitting on Shiva's shoulders, and the Shaivites only saw the Absolute when Shiva sat at the helm. Of course, this "absolute" was quite a ridiculous sight, an elongated, swaying, trench-coated humanoid with not two, but twelve arms. It's hard to believe that such an awkward frame could represent a God, but to the humans, in their childlike innocence, it was good enough.
The three gods themselves knew that they were just aspects of the real absolute. They were made of the same fundamental and eternal principal as the mortal humans, albeit they were far grander, far more exquisite, immortal, and supremely powerful in their dominions. Rulers of heavenly kingdoms, they lived perfect blessed lives. Lives that went on forever, or so they had believed.
After 16,000 kalpas, Brahma suddenly became ill. Vishnu tried to help him, being the preserver that he was. He suspected the strain of being the legs for so long had started to take its toll. Shiva on the other hand reveled in Brahma's suffering. He saw the destruction of an immortal being to be a display of his power, that his nature permeated all beings, that his inevitability proved that he was the deserved Godhead. Vishnu couldn't stand his show-boating, and knew that he, the preserver, had to save Brahma, even if it was just for the sake of getting one over on Shiva.
Despite his best efforts to care for his brother, Brahma died. In a boastful display of power, Shiva went on a spree of transformation and destruction. The universe contorted around him, a thousand supernovas twinkled on his flesh, like the suns reflection off morning dew. But with no one left to bring new worlds into existence, his spree quickly ended. He had destroyed every organism, every structure. Every ordered atom was scattered chaotically and homogeneously, the forces of entropy all played out. With nothing left to destroy, his fundamental essence was gone. And with that, he blinked out of existence.
Vishnu knew it. He was the true Godhead. He sat alone, in his dead, cold universe. It was perfect. Everything had been too complex before. In the old days, preserving anything was almost impossible. No matter how hard he tried, he could never get a human to live for more that 120 years. It had always frustrated him, made him feel weak. Yet here he was, the only god, at the culmination of the universe, the omega point. A beautiful, uniform universe, that took no effort on his part to preserve. In fact, he had become redundant. With that realization, he too blinked out of existence.
After the longest time, a darkness that seemed eternal and unending, there was a spark. The dead cold world was suddenly flooded, with heat, light and energy. And the first thing to appear in all of it was that 12 armed, trench-coated god. They thought to themselves that they must have made all of this, since there was no one else around. They proclaimed themselves the eternal kings and began to play. In their play, they created stars, planets and life. They truly were gods.
From the outside, the universe looked somewhat like a wheel. What seem like the end and begin to those within are actually joined. Joined so that every moment of suffering and every disappointment can be lived over and over again. The Buddha looked on at it and laughed at the foolish gods. They would never realise their frivolity, they enjoyed life to much to grow weary of it. But the humans, they could be helped. The suffering of seeing loved ones grow old and die, and knowing that it would eventually happen to them was something they all wanted to wish away. With a sigh, he stepped back in. He had a lesson to teach that the gods were incapable of.
| "My prayers, they've been answered!"
God decended from my ceiling light and stood before me in all their glory. Before me, they were enveloped in light, making it hard to see.
"Please God, please heal my grandma's sickness. After all she's done for this city, she deserves at least a painless passing."
God shook their head once.
"Why? What do you want from me then in exchange? Surely you would not appear before me if you were to outright refuse my prayers??"
God motioned towards a cabinet with a bag inside.
"Th...that's not mine! Besides its legal now in Colorado!"
God shook its head again and pointed again at the same cabinet. I remember, there was a larger bag below the other bag. But what did they want with those snacks??
"Could it be, you want a symbolic gesture of some kind?" I scrambled to the cabinet to produce the snacks for them. In a shaky hand I presented it already open towards the glowing figure.
God reached out in a flash and a single treat was stolen before I realized it. And with that he was gone. It was minutes before I realized I was in a daze, and I quickly ran to the other room to check on grandma. Gone was her wheezing and her wounds from that disaster a month ago. I sighed in relief as I checked her vitals on the medical equipment strewn about the room.
Once satisfied, I returned to the holy grounds that God had appeared before me. And to my surprise...
[They left this shirt](https://imgur.com/a/41gJmPl)
PRAISE EIN | 2018-08-03T01:43:27 | 2018-08-03T01:21:32 | 31 | 20 |
[WP] It's 3 AM. An official phone alert wakes you up. It says "DO NOT LOOK AT THE MOON". You have hundreds of notifications. Hundreds of random numbers are sending "It's a beautiful night tonight. Look outside." | Andrew nearly snarled as his phone chimed for what seemed to be the umpteenth time. His shift at the warehouse ended only a few hours ago and it like chickens running around with their heads chopped off whenever he left. It was rare delight to encounter the nights that he was actually permitted to sleep through the night.
On top of the texts that were just brimming with simple incompetency, the morons that lit up his phone in the middle of the night always seemed to wake up his wife, Isabel, who suffered from insomnia to begin with. The raise Andrew agreed to that stated he kept his ringer on for these occasions never seemed worth it when he saw Isabel the next day, curled up in the guest room with dark circles under her eyes from her attempts to get away from the constant chiming.
Andrew rubbed a hand over eyes to clear them, trying to understand the ridiculous amount of messages but he must have been more tired than he thought since they didn’t make sense.
He quickly scrolled through the message previews, finding they all seemed to follow the same pattern: to look at the moon. The moon? What the -? Why?
It was like a shot to his adrenaline when he saw that some of the messages were coming from Isabel’s phone. He shot up from bed, seeing the other side empty, and jumped to his feet.
“Hun, what’s going on,” Andrew questioned, still scrolling through his phone while walking towards the guest room. The room was at the end of the hallway and the door was wide open. He could see Isabel standing in the middle of the room, arms down by her side and phone clutched in her hand as she gazed out the window.
As he grew closer, he could see that she was shaking, “Bel? Honey? What’s wrong, why-”
Isabel’s body whipped toward him and Andrew couldn’t help himself, he froze in place. She ran and shoved her body into the door, slamming it shut and locking it in place.
The speed was all wrong though, Andrew had never seen her move that fast. It was insane, it was...inhuman….
His own body started to tremble when he remembered her eyes. Her pupils were dilated and not a single bit of the green irises he loved so much were left.
He was just about to ram his own body into the door, to beg her to let him in and make her explain what is happening, but then she started sobbing.
“Andrew! You need to run, you need to hide! I’m so sorry, god I am so sorry. Run, Andrew, and whatever you do, don’t look at the moon!”
Andrew started pounding his fists on the door and trying to shove his weight against it, but she must have blocked it with something.
Despite his shouting and his pleading to be let in, his forgotten phone on the hallway floor seemed to crack through the commotion as the alarms of the emergency alert system distracted him for just a moment. The robotic voice started to play from his phone automatically, “WARNING. THIS IS NOT A TEST. THIS IS AN EMERGENCY ALERT. DO NOT LOOK AT THE MOON. WARNING. THIS IS NOT A TES-”
Andrew thought his distress was at its peak, nothing was making sense and he just needed to get Isabel so they could deal with this together. He just needed to-
Her screams started and it struck him cold to the very center of his being. He began pounding and kicking at the door until it gave way under his body. Isabel was on the floor, writhing in the moonlight. Andrew couldn’t help it, his knees buckled and he emptied the contents of his stomach right where he stood.
Isabel's body was bent at every wrong angle possible but she wasn’t screaming anymore. Her head snapped in his direction with that ungodly speed again. Bathed in the moon’s light and pupils still completely dilated, she smiled up at him as if every bone in her body wasn’t broken.
In the same voice she used to tell soothe him time after time, she whispered, “Look at the moon, Andrew.”
| The explosions had been rumbling off in the distance for hours as a young boy tried to drift off to sleep. The war might be raging, but the Allied Forces had deemed his village far enough away that an evacuation was only advised, not mandatory. With his mother the way that she was, the brunette knew that he would be sleeping in his own bed as soon as he heard those words. Still, the sounds persisted even as they faded into the background and then became an incorporated soundtrack to vague, shifty dreams.
A repetitive chirp woke him up as the witching hour drew to a close. Sitting up and rubbing his eyes in annoyance, he glanced at his blocky phone, the display lit up with hundreds of messages, all from unknown numbers, telling him to look at the moon. Above that, in bright red letters, scrolled a message “DO NOT LOOK AT THE MOON”. It all seemed so ridiculous, the boy thought as he lay back down, ignoring his phone. Still, curiosity gnawed at him. *What was so special about the moon tonight?*
10 minutes passed, then 15, and still the boy couldn’t shake his curiosity. Finally heeding the gnawing drive in his chest, the boy sat up again, this time turning to his window, barred tight against the October chill. Brushing aside his curtains, the boy was greeted by the sight of a blood red moon for almost an instant, marred by rings and three black tomoe, before he woke up again to spring birds chirping. | 2022-10-06T10:06:56 | 2018-04-06T18:58:31 | 483 | 12 |
[WP]You receive a message, "Reply Yes if you can survive the last video game you played." You answer Yes. Your vision blanks and you open your eyes finding that you are at the beginning of said game. You hear a voice "To leave you must win. Your prize is all you gain in this world. Good luck" | I did it.
I want to scream, “I did it!” but there’s another camper hanging around and if I scream about completing that awful curry dex, he’ll question what I mean.
I’m the champ, you know. Gotta keep up the image.
I smile to myself and let my sweet little Pokémon (not—they’re IV trained, Gigantamax beasts; if you try and complete the curry dex, you get bored very quickly) enjoy their meal.
That’s when it’s happens. That’s when the night sky goes dark, hurricane like winds take over the sky and I even have to hold my Corviknight down.
“Impossible! Is that the Darkest Day? I thought you stopped it!” Generic Camper Number 729 screams.
Yeah, I did. I beat and caught Eternatos. It’s in my boxes, safely stored away thanks to crappy IVs. Isn’t it angry?
“Stay down,” I tell him like the good champ I am. He doesn’t need to be told twice.
My team is strong. They’re trained to be the strongest. I needed them to beat the battle tree—and to maintain my sanity while dealing with the curry. Competitive play had never been of interest to me, but if you spend years living in Pokémon Sword, you get dragged into the fun of battles.
I often wondered if the online battles I fought were against players in my world.
That’s how it comes to my mind. “It’s not the Darkest Day!” I call out—even my Pokémon look are me as I’m dumb. “It’s my way home!”
Because yes, of course, I can beat Pokémon Sword while being in the game. It’s Pokémon, for heaven’s sake! I enjoyed it at first (until the curry dex came to my mind) and considered staying. It’s just sad that I couldn’t go to Sinnoh or Johto, my favourite regions.
Then again, I suppose, the Sword/Shield final was better (and easier. So much easier.) than a freak wanting to build a new universe.
All goes black—as if it’s indeed the Darkest Day again.
I wake up where I left. In my room, in front of my phone. It tells me that it’s in the morning, and that it’s February 2020.
I left in the morning of a Saturday in February 2020.
“Thank god, I didn’t miss time,” I blurt out.
I eye the message, and wonder what it means to me. Surely I haven’t been gifted the ridiculous amounts of PokéDollars, the items or my Pokémon themselves?
False.
Of course, I had the maximum of cash by the end of my adventures. 99,999 PokéDollars—or yen, in the original games.
That’s why the equivalent off 99,999 PokéDollars lies in front of me.
About 900USD.
But next to what will maybe get me through a month at most, is something of much, much more value.
My bag. And in it, the endless depth of what all items I had. Including all existing clothes, countless berries and cooking items—and the Pokémon Box Link.
And six PokéBalls.
I take one, to test. Release the Pokémon in it. Corviknight roars in my dorm room.
The situation dawns me.
“I got Pokémon. I got ******* Pokémon!”
(Worth the days spent on the curry dex.) | I really need to stop asking 'What's the worst that can happen?' Probably because I can't see anymore. Why the hell is it so dark???
A bit of context: I was about to turn in for the night when I received a random text message - "Reply Yes if you can survive the last video game you played." Under normal circumstances, I would just delete the message tree and forget that it existed, but I figured to do at least one, no harm in it.
And I said that damnable phrase.
Where the hell am I?
'They are Rage, Brutal, without Mercy...'
...why does that sound familiar?
'But you...You will be Worse...'
Wait...is this...?
'Rip and Tear, until it's done!'
Well, at least I know what I'm getting out of this at the end. | 2020-02-17T00:45:30 | 2020-02-16T23:52:15 | 31 | 14 |
[WP] At first, the Mandela Effect changed minor things: Berenstain instead of Berenstein, Curious George having a tail, etc. But lately it's been getting stronger. Like, since when was the Eiffel Tower in Germany? I could've sworn we had one moon, not two? And was the sky always pink? | What’s that Harry Potter book one opening quote? ‘It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of light, it was the season of darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair.’
That’s how it feels every day since the beginning of Scramble. Or Mandela Effect, Big Change, Great Stirring, Disruption, Apocalypse… Obama Time. There are as many different names for the strange phenomenon that hit the Earth a year ago as there are people who are affected by the constantly changing world. And that’s a lot of people. Almost everyone on the planet.
Some days are good, like when two months ago I woke up in a bedroom overlooking pines bordering the emerald shallows of North lake Tahoe. I lived in Arnold, Nebraska the day before.
Other days, the change happens somewhere else, or it is so insignificant that no one notices it. Those are good days too. Maybe the best ones.
And then, there are bad days, when food stores disappear or you end up surrounded by people you have nothing in common with. Or when you lose family and friends. Such days are dark. Stay-asleep-with-head-buried-under-the-pillow dark. People say that I’ll get used to losing people. My friends and family are still out there somewhere. They’re fine. No big deal. After The Scramble ends, or when the scientists make it stop, I’ll find them again. But how do they know that? They don’t. No one knows what’s going to happen tomorrow.
And that is almost as terrifying as losing those you love.
Even losing people I’ve seen only a couple of times in my life can ruin my day now. People like Kay, who packed my grocery bags yesterday.
“Yeah, she gone, bruh,” the grocery store guy --- Jurgen Schneider according to his name tag --- says in a heavy German accent. He stinks like the tobacco he’s been chewing since I entered the store, half an hour ago. He scans my ramen noodles and drops them in the plastic bag. “The blond chick with bull-ring piercing and stars tattooed across her tits? You’re asking about her, yeah?”
I hate this guy. “Yeah. Kay Summer.”
“Yeah, she’s no longer working here. Gone.”
I nod, then lower my head. Despite being the only person here I connected with, I’m happy she’s gone. Charlie’s Best is a terrible place owned by Jurgen Senior, a creep worse than his son Jurgen. If there was another store in a 60 miles radius, I’d go there. One day, that *will* happen.
Kay was an astronomer. Second-year grad student at UC Berkeley Astrophysics department before the Scramble moved her to Beijing, China, then Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia, then Medellín Colombia, San Diego, Kathmandu, Pretoria,... She has visited more places in a month than some people during their entire life. And she loved it. And then, she got stuck here for months. ‘Scramble has a sense for irony’ she said. And that was the last thing she told me before Jurgen Sr. told her to hurry up with bagging my shit because he’s not paying her to chat with customers. And now she’s gone. I guess Scramble can be compassionate, too.
“You know she’s gay?” Jurgen says. “You were not gonna get in her panties, bruh.” He spits in a plastic container on the floor by him. “Ain’t gonna happen.”
I shake my head. Even with that gesture, I'm giving him too much attention.
He snorts. “Whatever. Do you think I care?” He drops the bag in front of me. “Your noodles. $9.50.”
I reach for the wallet in my pocket just to find it missing. There’s a $10 bill in my jacket.
“Let’s just round it to $10,” Jurgen says, inspecting the bill. “We value your business. Next!”
I don’t argue with him. Can’t argue with the only shopkeeper in a 60 miles radius. Not when I never learned to drive.
“Light blue, by the way,” he yells as I approach the exit. “Her panties before she poofed away after the night shift.”
Jurgen’s human garbage, that’s all. Maybe he was like that before the Scramble. Maybe not. I wonder what he was like before Scramble. Did he always talk like a dude, or did Scramble scramble his brain? And will it scramble mine? Did I like ramen a year ago?
I wish I can enjoy the Scramble the way Kay did. I hope she’s all right, wherever she is now.
Despite it being mid-July, my house is empty and cold and the leaves of the two colossal ginkgos in my garden have turned bright yellow. There’s a telescope set up on the back porch and it’s pointing toward the east where the Second Moon rises above the mountains. The telescope came with the house. It’s a weird telescope, bulky and with an eyepiece on the side.
“I had a 5 inch Celestron when I was growing up,” the voice behind me says. “Mister… John Anderson.” Kay’s standing by the sliding door, a girl in an oversized hoodie and stars tattooed on her neck, with my wallet in one hand and a driver’s license in another. “You don’t look 54 years old. Or Black.”
I chuckle. “Mister Anderson does. Welcome to his house. Sergey Shevchenko. Nice to meet you Kay.”
“Kay Summer. Your accent’s not Russian.”
“Ukrainian, you mean. I grew up here. My parents moved to states when national borders were still a thing. Hey, I thought you left. Jurgen said you were gone.”
She chuckles. “Oh, I quit, for sure. They’re all turbo creeps in that store.” She gestures to the telescope. “Whatcha looking up there?”
“Uhmm… I wasn’t--- The lens is missing.”
She furrows her eyebrows, then walks to the telescope. She peeks into the tube, then lets out a sigh of relief. “I was worried for a second that someone put a lens inside a Newtonian reflector telescope.” She sticks her arm in the telescope’s tube and pulls out the black lid. “Reflectors use mirrors to magnify the image. Sometimes, there’s a mirror cover inside the tube, especially when the telescope is home-made.” She removes the cap from the eyepiece and looks through it. “Hmm… Looks good. Seems Mister Anderson knew what he was doing.” She looks at me and grins. “I wouldn’t be staying at his house if I were you. He might return soon.”
“Somehow I doubt that.”
“I wouldn't be so sure. He’s a traveler. Let me show you something.”
It takes her a couple of minutes to aim the telescope at the Second Moon and focus on a Mare Arborealis --- a valley of some sort near the north pole of the moon --- dotted with craters of various sizes.
“What am I looking for?”
“Looking *at*, you mean. A map. Craters are the coordinates.”
“Okay… Coordinates of what?”
“Places on Earth that will be affected by the Scramble tomorrow. There are three craters that never change their position so you can use them to construct the coordinate system. Every day, the position of other craters changes. Their radius is proportional to the radius of the area affected by the Scramble. So if you want to travel, all you need to do is use some simple math to calculate the longitude and latitude of your nearest Scramble site.” She pats my back. “And hope the place is somewhere near.”
“What? I thought Scramble is random.”
She shakes her head. “It’s predictable if that’s what you mean. I mean, you’re looking at the map.”
“Map? On the Second Moon?”
“I was hoping you’d ask me ‘who put it there?’” She winks at me, crossing her arms at her chest. “I’ll just wait here while that sinks in.”
“Wait--- No--- You’re saying, aliens---”
She shrugs, spreading her arms. “There are so many questions to answer. Why are there exactly 53 Scramble sites? What determines their radius? Hell, why did the aliens give us the map? So many questions to answer, and none answerable from this place. And do you know what?”
“What?”
“There’s a Scramble site not far away from here. 100 miles, plus or minus 10 miles. We can go anywhere we want to.” She pulls a photo from the wallet. “And according to this, there should be a red Porsche in your garage. So… Where would you like to go?”
“Home,” I say without thinking. “I want to go home.”
Her shoulders slump. “Was hoping you’d say ‘to find the answers to the questions you just mentioned’, but ‘home’ is a valid answer too. Where is home?”
I sigh. My hometown was Scrambled.
"Don't worry, we'll figure out something." She winks at me. “We'll take you home.” | "Good evening, dear listeners. We are back once again with me, Ben Wilmer. And this is the Nighttime Ponder podcast", Ben whispered to his microphone with his usual "radio host" voice.
"Tonight, dear listeners, we are talking about one of internet's favorite topics and dare I say one of internet's most endearing mystery-- the Mandela effect", Ben continued.
"And as always, I am joined with my co-host and our resident skeptic-- Calvin Pilfer. How are ya, Calvin?", Ben shouted out his long time friend and podcast host.
"Not too bad, Ben. Not too bad at all. Grabbed my third coffee before I got here and I am ready to discuss this silly topic--", Calvin shifted his tone to an obvious mocking one. "All night long, baby"
"Awesome. Let us begin!", Ben said as Calvin took a sip of his coffee.
"So let me remind you, dear listeners, of what the Mandela effect is. The Mandela effect is a collective false memory happening to the masses where they believed in one fact, but in reality it was false. For instance-- the fact that Nelson Mandela died in 2013 but most people thought he died in the 80's", Ben finished.
"Well, people are clearly dumb. Mandela was a president from mid to late 90's. If they had just read their world history textbook, they would've known this fact", Calvin said.
"Well now, Calvin, we can't just dismiss it as people's lack of intelligence", Ben put out a rebuttal. "If a few people mistook it, sure, those people need more history lesson. But it seems like every people that read about this phenomena all thought that Nelson Mandela did die in the 80's"
"Pfft not all of them. I didn't", Calvin chuckled.
"Well, you are a smart man, Calvin", Ben said. "But what do you say about the Berenstein vs Berenstain Bears debacle?"
Calvin shrugged. "A misprint. Easy as that. Some region got the misprinted copies and some got the correct ones. Hilarity ensued"
"Okay, fair enough", Ben scrolled down his computer, looking for other examples as Calvin took another sip of his thermos.
"Blergh, should've added more sugar to my tea", Calvin remarked.
Ben took his attention away from the monitor and frowned at Calvin.
"Didn't you say you brought coffee?", Ben asked.
"No man, I don't drink coffee. I always drink tea", Calvin said nonchalantly as he took another sip.
"What are you talking about? You drink like...four coffees everyday!"
Calvin chuckled. "Oh I get it. You're messing with me with this Mandela effect shit. You're saying you remember me doing something I never do. Good prank, but I caught ya"
"No, no, this isn't a prank! I literally remember you finishing a huge cup of cappuccino this morning!", Ben said.
"Ben, what the hell are you talking about? I. Don't. Drink. Coffee!", Calvin replied sounded exasperated.
"Wha...I...", Ben was speechless.
In his mind he was sure Calvin only drank coffee. But maybe...he remembered it wrong...?
"You're really trying to stump me this time huh? What? The next thing you say is the UK won World War 2?", Calvin chuckled.
Ben stared at Calvin, more confused than before.
"The UK...did win World War 2...", Ben said.
"Nah man, they lost. They occupied France but in the end France was liberated by Germany", Calvin answered.
Ben's confusion turned into fear. Hurriedly he turned to his computer, opening up Google to make sure he wasn't going crazy.
"Ben, are you alright?", Calvin asked, now worried.
As soon as Ben clicked the enter button, he froze in front of the monitor. Unable to belief what he was reading, he began hyperventilating.
"Germany. Won. The war...", Ben muttered in between breaths.
Like a maniac he searched deeper which made Calvin uneasy.
"He-hey bud, are you alright?", Calvin asled but Ben suddenly yelped.
"The Eiffel tower is in Berlin? Since when?"
Calvin was taken aback. "S-since the 50's at least. The original was destroyed during the war and as a token of friendship, France rebuild it in Germany..."
Ben stood and stumbled back. His head was spinning.
"Something's....something's not right...", Ben muttered. "It's wrong. It's all wrong..."
Calvin stood amd tried to talk Ben down but his words were ignored.
"It's wrong! It's all wrong!", Ben kept repeating when his eyes fell to the clock hanging on his studio wall.
His eyes widened. "Since when does the clock has thirteen numbers?", Ben yelled while pointing at the clock.
Calvin, then completely horrified at his friend's antic, glanced quickly at the clock before turning back to Ben.
"It's been like that since forever, Ben", Calvin said as calmly as possible while inside he was freaking out. "Ben, can you please calm down? Something is clearly not right with you. Dude, just sit down first, okay?"
Ben shook his head as he kept repeating, "It's all wrong!"
Ben kept stepping back when he unknowingly tripped on a box on the floor. With a huge thunk, he fell down onto his back before his innecessant muttering finally stopped.
Strangely, Calvin was not worried. In fact, he was calm, even calmer than ever before. Gently he walked over to the other side of the table, not even paying any mind to the messy studio floor, he sat down and put on his headphones.
"Good morning, dear listeners. We are back once again with me, your host, Calvin Pilfer. And this is the Morning Ponder podcast!", he cheerily said.
"The sky is bright pink today. You know what it means, ladies and gents! It's time to dwelve into another mystery! And today's topic is one of internet's favorite topic and dare I say, one of internet's most endearing mystery-- the Gandhi effect!", Calvin said.
"And today I am joined with my co-host...", Calvin said before pausing.
"Huh...I don't have a co-host. What am I talking about?", Calvin chuckled to himself. "I tell you all, ladies and gents, sometimes I feel like there are two hosts for this show"
Calvin shifted on his chair as he grabbed his thermos.
"So, I have my cold thermos full of orange juice and we are ready to begin! So...the Gandhi effect...", Calvin whispered into the microphone in his "radio host" voice.
r/HangryWritey
Edit: corrected a couple of words | 2022-01-21T19:54:47 | 2022-01-21T18:47:48 | 130 | 44 |
[WP] You're the last person on earth - but thank god Pokemon Go still functions! You amuse yourself by catching Pokemon as you travel so as to not feel so isolated and alone. One day, on your screen, you see in the distance that someone has set up a lure.
Courtesy of corvidaedream on Tumblr | I wasn't sure why the servers were still up and working. I knew they shouldn't be, but I didn't want to question it too much, Pokemon Go was the one thing keeping me sane through this, reminding me that there was a time when I was not the only person left out here. If I questioned it too deeply, the servers might realise that after 18 months, there is no way they should be working. So I just set out every morning, heading towards an area which seemed to have a lot of pokestops, and collected all the pokemon I saw along my way.
It was my routine, always hoping that I was heading towards another person, that someone else had survived, and that we would find each other. At the end of one, long day of walking, I found a spot to rest for the night. As usual, it was a place that people had gathered, before. When there were people to gather. That meant that there were plenty of Pokestops for me to collect supplies from. I'd just gone through my usual routine of swiping through all the stops within range before finally closing my eyes and trying to sleep as much as I could, when I noticed something unusual. Just on the edge of my screen was a pokestop with a lure on it. For a moment I was confused. Wondering why I'd put a lure on a stop I couldn't reach. But then I remembered, it couldn't be me. I'd run out of lures in the early days - I'd used them to try and signal to other people that there was someone nearby, and now it seemed like someone else was doing the same.
I knew if I waited until morning, there was a good chance that the lure would be gone, and whoever had placed it moved on. I had to act now.
Packing up my sleeping bag as fast as I could, I walked towards the lured stop. It was outside a church, which was as delapidated and deserted as the rest of the town had been. No sign that there had been anyone there in months, let alone the past 20 minutes. But, with nothing better to do, I sat and waited, collecting the pokemon which showed up, until the lure went down. But the moment it did, a new lure appeared. Again, just on the edge of my map.
Not having to pack up my gear, this time I arrived at the lure less than 5 minutes after it appeared. But there was still no sign that another person had been there. I found some paper and a marker pen out of my bag, and wrote a note:
"I can see that there's been someone here. Please contact me. My phone number is 07839 234890"
I taped the note to a wall, and hoping that whoever had set the lure would come back to this spot, then settled back down to catching more pokemon.
Suddenly though, my phone started ringing, the displaying showing "unknown number".
I answered it.
"Hello?"
"I got your note on the pokestop."
"What?" There had been noone but me the entire time I was sat here, how could someone have found my number without me seeing them?
"Yeah. You left a note saying to call you."
"Where are you? If you've come past here, why didn't you speak to me? I've been sitting right here since I put it down"
"Because we're out of phase. I've only just worked out how to get my phone in phase with yours."
"What the fuck are you talking about?"
"You think you've been the only person on the planet for the past 18 months? Well, so does every other person. They're all still here. I've spoken to a couple of hundred of them now. I don't know how it happened, but I can teach you how to contact them. You're not alone any more." | I head out at sun rise every morning, today was no different. My bag packed with the usual 6 spare batteries, water, sandwiches and trail nuts. The game was become tiring I'd completed my collection months ago and with no one to contest my gyms Valor was everywhere. all I seemed to do was swap out lower CP pokés for there newer arrivals. But with no one around to talk to my Pokémon are the closest thing I have to a friend. Which is what makes transferring them even harder. I set my eyes on a nice road full of pokestops and press on. My only use for pokéstops was the new balls. I'd maxed out my xp a long time ago. I make it half way down the road and my heart sinks, there's a lure! It can't be true. There hasn't been another human on earth for nearly 3 years. I begin to run not even flipping the stops on the way. As I get closer I see a gym in the back ground it's blue, it's Mystic. I look at my pokémon my Golduck was passed out. I revive him and swear revenge. I get to the park where the lure is and sure enough there's a kid sat on the bench with a Pikachu on his shoulders. "Hey I'm Ash nice to meet you" | 2016-09-05T10:42:44 | 2016-09-05T06:15:42 | 2,026 | 58 |
[WP] You are a child psychologist assigned to study and care for a young child with superpowers who has brutally murdered people. You have been told to act with care and with compassion, trying to rehabilitate them if possible | The orb of water spun much like any child’s toy, the dewdrop consistency strange to the observant eye. The room was mostly bare, devoid of any adornments aside from the standard: bed, end table, window. The boy sat in the center, the oversized droplet putty in his hands as he tossed it in the air, the light sparkling through its glassy surface.
I walked inside, the limp in my leg stifled as I approached him. His attention turned to me.
Where eyes should have sat, there were instead similar water droplets, oversized tears that had replaced what originally lay within the sockets. He turned away, returning to his catching game.
I sat on the floor next to him. Not close enough that it would disturb him, but enough that I could whisper if needed. My tailbone groaned in protest, the pain stark. I didn’t let it show. “I heard there was an accident today.”
“There’s no accidents. She was mean, so I hit her.”
“Mean?”
The droplet returned to being putty, and he squeezed it. “She wanted me to take the medicine today, but my stomach hurtand I said no. She tried to force me, so I hit her.” His hands sped up, the water like gum as he rubbed his hands across it. “Did I-?”
“No.” I cut in. “No, she will live. Her arm will need to be restored though.” I pointed to the sphere. “Is that…?”
He didn’t meet my eyes. “Yeah. I’m sorry. They took away the other things because…you know. But I don’t like being alone in here.”
I looked at the water. It was crystal clear, not a sign of red, devoid of any ‘impurity’. I swallowed. “If it wasn’t an accident, did you mean to kill her?” He paused for a moment, then shook his head. “No. She didn’t deserve it.”
“Why not?” I looked at the ceiling. There were scratches deep set into the wood.
“Because.” He bounced the ball. “She wasn’t trying to kill me. She just wanted me to do something I didn’t want to. And the last time I did that, this happened to me.” He pointed to his face.
“I’ll notify the other doctors about your preference.”
With that, we simply sat there a bit, watching the window, the heavy bars overlayed through the opening.
“Why didn’t you escape?” I looked to the orb of water in his hands again. I’d seen what he could do, how fast and precise water could move when he wanted it to. “It must’ve been scary when she, the nurse, screamed. Weren’t you afraid of getting in trouble?”
“No. Not really.” He let the orb turn back into a puddle, demonstrating. “No matter where I go, I have to face the fact that someone wants to use me. At least here I don’t need to-”
A bird perched on the window. Its wings fluttered a moment, eyes peering inside the small room. Then it was gone.
The spell it cast on him broke then. “-I don’t need to worry about friends dying. I can’t lose them when I don’t have them.”
“A risk of life.” I nodded. “Do you regret knowing them?”
“No!” He was startled. “They regret knowing me though. Marienne, Laddie, Niles.”
“Do you know that?”
“I-” He shook his head again, harder. “I-I killed them.” He whispered. “I shouldn’t have run. They tried to help me, and they suffered for it. It wasn’t fair that they took MY punishment.”
“They risked themselves to protect you. Why?”
“I don’t know.” He put his head in his shoulders.
“Do you want to know what I think?” He didn’t move. “Your friends loved you dearly. Dearly enough that they would lay down their lives for you. That you would find such people in your circumstances was a miracle.” I placed my hand on his shoulder. After months of back and forth, he finally did not flinch at the contact.
“It was even more a miracle you survived. But what good will it all be if you squander it living like this?”
“They won’t let me live any other way.”
“That isn’t true. There will be chances to prove yourself, chances like today. All you need to do is make the correct choices.”
“So you want me to just sit there and take it?” The bitterness in his words bit me. “Because I won’t. If they try, I’ll kill them too.”
“Then you’d be right back where you started.”
“At least then I could see the ocean.”
“You know that-”
“No. No! I don’t know anything. No one aside from you has told me anything! So tell me, what happens if I DO escape? What happens if I butcher you all and leave, huh?”
My mouth flapped for a moment. “You would escape the City. Out across the ocean or perhaps below. Then you’d have to start all over again. Learning to live somewhere, to be around people or without. Then, maybe, after years upon years of ruining your chances, maybe you’d have what you had before. But that doesn’t happen without you making a conscious effort to change.”
He sighed.
“Okay.” He nodded. “Alright.” My spirit lifted. “I don’t believe you.” It sank as he said it.
“I don’t believe you. I’ll never have what I used to.” His eyes met mine, the swirling water magnifying the flesh behind. “But if YOU genuinely believe it, I can stand to not maim people for a while. I think.”
I nodded. The rest of my visit was punctuated by a game of chess that I procured from the staff. As I left, he waved at me, I returned it with a smile. A significant weight lifted from my back, along with the rivulets of sweat. “How was he?” The nurse asked. “The usual.” I brushed off my coat, relaxing slightly.
“I can’t believe you agreed to work with this one. Haven’t you heard what he did in Highwater?” Without pausing, I walked past her. In my mind's eye, I could picture it. Several people, their bodies desiccating as the water was drawn from them. My own leg as he lashed out in fear. The boy's words echoed in me. “I don’t believe I’ll have that ever again.” There was a deep pain there.
The patter of rain came away as I left the building, the barred window staring back at me all the while. I did not limp until I was well out of sight. | He sat by the window, watching, perhaps waiting. His pale face and dull eyes reflected clearly through the tinted window. Outside, he could see the gorgeous trees, the brilliant sky, and small schoolhouse next door. But we both know he could never go outside. With one touch, he could burn it all to the ground. After all, he had once before.
I sat across from him, sitting behind my desk. All these awards and plaques acknowledging my achievement in rehabilitating troubled youths did nothing to settle my nerves. I had never dealt with anything like this before. Even in my own office, he made me feel small.
His bland folding chair was turned towards the window. The only thing disturbing the silence was the rapping of his fingertips on the window sill, as well as the occasional jingle of his handcuffs as he repositioned himself.
Never dealt with anything like this before - no, anyone like this before, I had to remind myself. Behind all the fear and power he held, he was just a 16 year old boy.
"Nathan," I called to him, "you can't ignore me like this. We have to talk about the incident."
I tried to keep my voice as soft as possible while still maintaining a firm tone. It had to seem like I wasn't afraid of him.
"Which incident?" He mumbled.
"Nathan, your parents." He stayed quiet.
I pried once more, "Nate, you know how much they loved you."
"I wasn't my fault!" He roared, suddenly spinning to face me. I saw something in his eyes. I saw what they saw, what his parents saw before they had to send him away. The rage that lingered in his glare was unforgettable.
Despite the fact that I was told not to, I stared at his hands. His fingers. They were smoldering.
Suddenly, it stopped. He immediately no longer looked angry, but apologetic. I guess he saw the fear in my eyes.
"I i- I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you. But I NEED you to understand that I wasn't my fault. I just can't control it sometimes." Nathan hurriedly explained.
By this time, I was able to regain my composure. I feigned calm. Not that he could see it, but my hands were shaking under my desk.
"That's okay Nathan, just tell me what happened one more time." I clicked my pen and smiled to him.
"We've been over it hundreds of times." Nate complained.
"Then one more time won't hurt."
With one final sigh, he began once more.
"It was Kelly's birthday party, she was turning seven. Everyone came. Every. Single. Person." Nate shuddered. "A-and when Uncle Lance and cousin Flourance came up to me, they said that I was a monster, a freak. They said that I could only light fires because I was going to Hell." Now Nathan was the one shaking. "I couldn't take it, not anymore. They had always done this. The yelling, the taunting, I just wanted it to go away. I could feel my fingertips burning a- and when Flourance hit me, I hit him back."
Now, as Nathan once more recounted the event, I watched him trace his palms with his fingers.
The rest was history. When Nathan's cousin ran screaming into the house like a human torch, Nathan followed. He set the house alight. Only his parents survived. Or course, his mom was half baked and little more remained of his dad than his head and shoulders. What remained of his family sent him away, to me.
"So it wasn't my fault, it just got out of control. I can't help it."
I let out a long breath, "Nathan, it's been three years since the fire. We have tried everything to contain your abilities. Do you truly believe there is no way to control them?"
He stared deep into my eyes. We saw each other, and reached the truest, deepest understanding.
"No."
And then I knew, he was too dangerous. Nathan was going to have to be put down. | 2022-07-22T15:50:42 | 2022-07-22T14:47:19 | 73 | 30 |
[WP] You're Satan, and for years you've brought gifts of your own personal touch to the dyslexic children of the world who send you letters. This year, As you step out of a chimney, you come face to face with Santa, who's ready to stop you or die trying. | I know it isn't in character, but I just can't resist. I *was* an angel once, and despite my choices, I still am. The difference is that I'm choosing who I help. These kids have never hurt me, and they need help. If my help is slightly macabre, it sticks in their memory better.
"Hold it right there Lucifer! This has got to stop. You're giving people nightmares bad enough to send them to psychiatric hospital."
"Is it the children I gift?"
"No, it's their parents, siblings, social workers, nannies, baby sitters, the list just goes on and on. You're going to stop if I have to force you to."
"Or die trying."
"What?"
"You were thinking, "or die trying", which is the likely outcome."
"If that's what it takes, yes."
"Now that's just plain silly. What are all the other kids going to do if you aren't there? Start writing to me? I'm not going to stop giving my little gifts just because you're dead.
You actually hadn't thought of that? How droll.
How about you listen to my side before you throw you and your entire life's work away for nothing."
"Well, you are known as the father of lies, how could I trust anything you say?"
"You can't. You'll have to check what I say in the real world."
"Very well."
"The kids who end up writing to me are all either dyslexic or terribly confused. In each case I give a toy tailored to the child. If they're a bit macabre, it's to ensure that what they have to teach sticks in their minds forever.
The dyslexic get lessons on coping with the problems. As the humanities understanding grows, the lessons adapt. This is a toy that keeps on giving throughout their lives.
For those who are terribly confused, the toy is designed to guide them to clarity of thought. What they choose to do with this new found clarity is up to them. All I do is give a little help."
"What about the reports of madness?"
"Those are people who *stole* my gifts. The gift is tuned to the child. Anyone else will be ill affected by it. This starts with an urge to return the toy. If that doesn't work, a warning nightmare, showing them returning the toy to avoid danger. The warnings grow in severity until they either return the toy or they're driven mad for having the temerity to steal *my* gift, and the stupidity to ignore the warnings.
In short. Its self inflicted. Give the toy back, and they will recover. Keep it, and not only will they remain mad, the person keeping it goes mad as well."
"That's sick. You punish a parent who is concerned for the mental health of their child?"
"They're thieves. They get what they deserve."
"So here's a child, without one or more parents, and without your gift. I fail to see the benefit."
"Whoever said the child doesn't have my gift?"
"The toy... You are a devious one. The gift comes with the toy, but is not directly the gift."
"Exactly."
"Then why the curse!?! Your gift has been delivered!"
"They are *both* my gifts. Crafted by my own hands. Each unique and distinctive. I will not tolerate having my gifts sold to the highest bidder. They belong with the children I made them for."
"Dear God! The ego!"
"Santa, what do you think got me kicked out of heaven?"
((finis)) | "What are you doing here?"
"What are *you*, Lucifer? I thought you were still too busy hating on God to do anything useful."
Satan scowled. He didn't like people using his name.
"I'm just adding my own little flair to the holidays. After all, I *do* get some letters..." Satan chuckles.
Santa's anger increases, and his blood is melting. "Not anymore, Satan. I'm going to put a stop to this or die trying."
"Oh really? You're not even god-level. You're just a unique Saint," Satan replied mockingly.
"Neither are you. Plus, you made a mistake by coming here alone," said Santa.
With that, a mighty sound of hooves kicking air burst from nowhere, and Dasher, Dancer, Prancer, Vixen, Comet, Cupid, Donner and Blitzen charging forward, happy to be back at the front lines. (Rudolph wasn't there because he was merely the PR Head.)
And with that, the resounding clash of good and mischeif rocked the Earth, and a new age had begun. | 2019-09-11T20:08:21 | 2019-09-11T17:38:52 | 241 | 37 |
[WP] Scientists invented a pill that enables dogs to fully speak and understand English. It lasts for ten minutes, and will only work one time. You give a pill to your 12 year-old Border Collie, whom you've had since they were a pup. Your dog immediately says "Alright, listen very carefully..." | "Alright, Listen VERY carefully, I've been trying to tell you this for months now, but there is something very dangerous lurking in the back yard. It's been stalking you for months, unseen, unheard by you and apparently.. and this is something I can't understand, unSMELLED by you. I love you human, but you've got to take this threat very seriously because it's going to strike now that it knows that you know that it's there. Please, let me out into the backyard and stay indoors until I scrape the window with my paw."
And with that, I let Mary out into the backyard, she immediately started sniffing around and growling as she always did when she was out doing her business. But this time, it gave me chills.
I got my dads old shotgun that I'd saved in case a bear or something ever came around. Sure I wasn't living in the sticks, but I wasn't exactly in the city either. The possibilities flitted through my mind, one more worse than the other. I loaded a couple of shells into it, cocked it and felt slightly more secure, I hadn't fired the thing in ages, but I still remember my instructors words "always keep your hand off the trigger until you're ABSOLUTELY sure you're going to fire at something"
But my trigger finger itched. Mary still hadn't come back after five minutes, so I decided to start looking for her. The underbrush was dense and the trees were pressing in on me from all sides.
I found her in a clearing a few minutes later, frantically digging at something in the ground, I kept my shotgun down towards the ground and slowly walked forward. The moon faintly illuminated the clearing as I got closer and closer to the growing mound of dirt that she was throwing up behind her, she was digging like mad and when she noticed me standing next to her, she stopped and barked at me and gave me a long look. Apparently the pill had worn off.
I looked into the hole she'd produced, there wasn't anything special about it, just dirt... and .. nothing else. Mary kept digging for a while, but then seemed to perk her ears at something. I resisted the urge to point my shotgun towards the bush she was staring at. Then she started walking slowly towards the bush and she growled in a way I'd never heard her growl before. Before I knew it, she'd rushed into it barking like a madman and I yelled at her to stop, but she was well beyond listening to me at this point. I heard her rusting through the underbrush and then.. a sharp whining sound from her and after that, silence.
I went absolutely crazy, I stormed through the threes, brushing them aside, not caring how they tore the skin on my face and my arms. MY DOG WAS IN DANGER! was all that was going through my mind and I kept my shotgun at the ready, intent on blasting whomever had hurt my dog into the world beyond this one. When I finally caught up with Mary, she was lying on the ground and she seemed so small for some reason.. I looked down at her.. and that's when I heard a branch snap behind me.
Before I knew it, it had struck the first of many devious blows at me. My leg was lost, there wasn't anything I could do but try to maintain my composure as I heard it voice it's satisfaction at me by going "meow, meow, meoooww" as it playfully bit into my leg. Mary woke up and barked at it, I told her shush and despite her protests, this was the night that Mister Assassin-Mittens came into our lives.
Mary still pretends to hate it, but I can tell she's loving it when it makes it's bed on her back when she's sleeping in her bed. | Alright, listen very carefully. Have you seen the movie Inception? This is one of those situations. You’re locked inside what you might think of as a ‘dream’ and this is the only way I’ve found to talk to you. What’s actually going on is pretty complicated, involving comas, wormholes to alternate realities, and quantum physics of the subconscious—we teach it in 6th grade science on planet 那儿 but our society is more technologically advanced than your by thousands of years, so it’s not that you’re not smart enough to understand, it’s just that your society’s current scientific background isn’t that great, don’t worry though it will get better. So don’t feel bad or anything. That’s the first lesson, the first thing you need to learn. “Don’t feel bad about anything.” Can you learn that for me? Do you think you can remember it? It’s very important. That’s why I had to find this way to talk to you. That’s why I’m on reddit writing on this random WP post—it’s the only way I knew that you would read my message. I knew you would click on a link about Border Collies.
I’ll post again soon. Stay strong.
| 2017-02-23T02:14:42 | 2017-02-22T22:49:20 | 167 | 117 |
[WP] “My Lord, this humble slave asks for your blessing!” The god’s lone eye narrow in suspicion. “How would a blessing from a local deity of flowers help you?” the supposed slave laughs nervously. “Well, for one I’ll finally know which flowers my date is allergic to so I don’t look like an Idiot.” | The god watched the 'slave' speak, it's lone golden eye watching this small human staring up at them. They uncrossed their large green paws, the large god lifted themselves off the stand they sat on, their deep jungle green fur swaying as if air flooded over their body.
The slave trembled at the beast, they spoke no more words as they watched him, stepping from their spot. No one really visited the Godly Dandelion, especially not after their fight with the Tiger Lily, which caused them to lose one of their gorgeous golden eyes.
The Dandelion stopped in front of the slave, towering over them as their bright yellow mane moved as the non-existent wind flooded over their body. **"You come to me, asking for a blessing, to ensure you do not mess up a date?"** The beast rumbled from it's chest, it's long vine like tail swayed as some of the white cotton-like seeds fluttered into the air around the two of them.
"Yes please." The Slave asked quietly, flinching as the Godbeast lowered it's head towards the human. The beast let out a loud chuffing sound over them before they stood and walked around them, their tail moving slowly across the humans chest as they felt warmth flood through his body. "We've known each other for the... Last few months, and I've been wanting to take them out, but I want to get them some flowers but I don't know what I can bring."
**"You have granted my blessing young one."** The God spoke, **"You are different to those who have come here; often trying to take something from me or here to slay me. But no one has had the balls to come and get a blessing from me."**
The slave let out a shaky laugh, "I'm... Honoured." He squeaked before he stepped away from the Dandelion, moving to pull something from their pockets. "I wasn't sure if I needed to pay you. But I... Found this Amber stone." He pulled out a bit of amber. The God stopped in front of them, looking down to it before moving to gently lower their head to the ground; a silent sign for them to place it onto their fur.
**"That is very kind of you to do so."** The beast spoke as the Amber was placed on their fur, the human watching it sink in and the colour slowly trickle up over the wounded eye of the Godbeast. **"Enjoy my gift little one. And please come to me if you need anything else, I wish you all the best."** They watched as the male ran out of their lair, returning back to their pedestal and sat down quietly as they tucked their paws into the underside of their body.
\-----
The Slave stepped along quietly, the blessing they were given allowed them to instinctively find the perfect flowers for his date. Now he just hoped everything else would go well.
He stepped along the rocky path to the lakeside, where he said in his letter to his crush to meet him. He looked around slowly, no one else seemed to follow him and from where he was, he could only spot one other figure. His heart raced as he ran down to the figure to hug them tightly.
The figure happily took him in their arms and spun him around. "Dain." The figure said softly, placing their companion on the ground as they looked to him, smiling at the flowers. "Oh Dain, you shouldn't have!"
Dain grinned up to the man happily looking to his flowers, "I hope these are okay, I thought they were fit for a king!" He said with a laugh, his companion laughing as well. "Of course you're only still a Prince, but one day you will be King Hans and I will follow you forever." | \[Poem\]
Flowers tell many things
Roses for love
Passionate and full
Like your energy on a bright summer day
Daisies represent innocence
Kind and sweet
Like your words when you talk to the village children
Lillies for purity of heart
Honest and quiet
Like your actions when you forgave the village clown for flipping your skirt
(Mostly because every other man in the square was advancing on him)
And violets signify modesty
Humble and simple
Like your laugh at a joke the kids told you
&#x200B;
A great many things
Yet you cannot enjoy them
Allergic as you are
Many have sought to help you
Of cures and tinctures that help little as you look sadly at the flowers at our garden
&#x200B;
It was a prayer that answered my wishes
A dream of times long forgotten
When gods walked the land
Of fields of white stretching to the shore
A single stalk
Plucked with great care
&#x200B;
I'm just glad that you love gardenias.
Shy and coy
Like your smile when I gave them to you | 2021-05-03T19:17:47 | 2021-05-03T18:47:33 | 61 | 28 |
[WP] As humans age they gain in physical strength every year. An 80 year old is twice as strong as someone half their age but still experience fatigue & geriatric diseases that ultimately result in death. Except you, as an aged immortal you struggle to conceal your true strength from the world. | I am the self appointed guardian of the world. Over the countless decades I have only grown stronger. You see, all children are weak and they were all my children. It started for me at the age of 15. I was not a spectacular child. My strength was measured at the 13th percentile for my age group. I focused more on my studies with the other "wimps".
&#x200B;
My family was involved in a car accident traveling to visit universities for myself. They did not make it but I survived. I was unable to walk, feed myself control any bodily functions other than talking. My C4 and C5 vertebrae were severely damaged rendering me a quadriplegic and all but useless to a world focused on strength. I still went to university at the age of 19 and I studied medicine. I was intrigued with finding a cure at first but that was scrapped for the new goal of staving off the fatigue, cure end of life illnesses and ailments that ultimately cause our non-soldiers to die.
&#x200B;
At the age of 40 my focus shifted yet again. I had already given 25 years of life expectancy and realized that the wars just grew more gruesome. My country kept the medical advances for themselves and took over the majority of the world. After that I stopped contributing to the medical world. I saw what the future would hold and I was ashamed of my involvement. I reclused myself only having medical aids to sustain me. Eventually I hired engineers to build machinery to replace the aids. At this point I was completely self sufficient and able to thrive in my solitude.
&#x200B;
I don't recall when I first realized that my intelligence was my strength but it was after the damage was already done. The decade that followed was the bloodiest known to man. I watched my home country force into service the 130 year olds by the 1000's. They had the oldest army and easily managed to take over most of the world. This was not my goal in medical advances but I was less angered that my former self would have been. At this point I was crafting a larger goal, peace.
&#x200B;
This goal was not going to be easy and I was misguided for many years. The trick to peace was counter intuitive. It could not be reached by force rather required an multi-layered 100 year plan. I had the time as I was already over 200 years old with no signs of decay or decline. What I had lost was my own humanity. I quickly was willing to sacrifice others lives for my own goal. I was influencing and manipulating a world I had not physically interacted with since I was 60 something years old. I was no better than the Warlord politicians I despised and sough to render obsolete.
&#x200B;
So now is my last and final goal. By the time you read this I have already passed away. Your current trauma is similar to mine and I hope you can learn from my mistakes. Never stop learning, but be mindful of your contributions to society. You will find with this letter a full scholarship for what ever school you decide to attend. You will also find detailed information on how to live as long as I did. Your strength will grow with each passing year as did mine. Your intellect will be unparalleled yet your goal will be to maintain your humanity as I was not able to do. I wish you the best of luck in succeeding where i have not.
&#x200B;
&#x200B;
Thank you of reading my submission. I am open to any criticism as i enjoy this but i am not very good as of yet. | Everybody wants to be strong. To be able to take on an entire group if people without breaking a sweat. I was like that to, so many years ago. Sometimes, I wish I could go back to that.
I can't get into fights with guys at bars anymore, I'd just end up killing them. I've enlisted in a few wars but those get tedeous after awhile. I can't remember the last time I had fun beating up a guy for trying to mug me.
One day last week was kind of promising, but it just turned out to be two 60 year old guys robbing a bank. They had managed to kill a lot of police so I thought they would be at least some what strong.
But I practically just flicked my fingers in their direction and they surrendered.
I used to try and hide my strength from the world but at some point I just stopped caring, cause what's the point. No one could stop me, so it doesn't matter.
Being overwhelmingly strong is equally overwhelmingly boring. | 2019-05-11T05:03:53 | 2019-05-11T04:58:25 | 40 | 27 |
[WP] "You think me the villain, chosen one? What you call dark magic, I call science. What you call safety is upholding a corrupt monarchy, lying about divine right. I have seen a better world, lived in it! So why do you uphold this glorious lie?" | Garreth Lightmoore finally reached the lair of the Dark One - a wizard of terrible power with an insatiable lust for death and suffering. He steeled his resolve and readied his sword, blessed by the Bishop himself, and broke down the doors that lead to the main hall where he was met with a sight he did not quite expect.
It was the right location, that much was certain, and there was a person as described to him before; but where he expected a dark cloak and perhaps a spiked crown made of human bones, he only saw a rather mundane looking man in a humble tunic, pants with numerous pockets and spectacles hunched over a table with a number of papers, most of which had schematics for various, no doubt nefarious, devices. Nevertheless; he was facing the Dark One.
"Villain!" he yelled, "prepare to meet your end! Your evil deeds shall be no more!"
To his surprise, the man did not react with a fireball, nor by summoning his lackeys. He merely took off his spectacles, placed them in his breast pocket, and looked at him curiously.
"And you might be?" he said in a shockingly calm and soft voice.
"I am Garreth Lightmoore, and I am here to put an end to your evils!" he stalwartly fired back.
"Ah," the man said calmly, a glint of understanding in his eye. "And what might those be?"
Garreth stared at the man silently, eyebrows furrowed; surely, this was a trick, a vile deception.
"The deeds I have supposedly done. Please, indulge me."
"Your evils know no bounds, fiend! Merely two nights ago, you have burned down an entire village! Slaughtered its innocent inhabitants like cattle!" Garreth growled.
"Ah, that," the man said. "Yes, I did do that. Do you know why?"
"To satisfy your bloodlust, of course!"
"Actually, it was to stop the ritual they were about to perform that they hoped would bestow on them the power of the Hells," he calmly stated.
"You lie! If that were the case, you'd surely have helped them yourself!"
"Then I suppose you haven't actually been to the village itself? Because I believe you can still find the occult daggers they had if the Royal Guard hasn't covered it up already."
Garreth listened to his words, but did not waver.
"And what of the children you have kidnapped? Their parents that you've slain? I suppose you'd also claim virtue?"
"Ah, of course. A moment, please."
The man walked over to a nearby sheet of thin crystal, and after adjusting a few dials, a picture appeared on it, showing the children in a light-coloured room, sleeping on medical beds.
"The children! Where are they? What have you done with them?" Garreth felt blood boil in his veins upon seeing this horrific injustice.
"I cured them," the man said blankly.
"Cured them?" For the first time, Garreth was not absolute in his actions - why would a man so wicked claim such virtues?
"Their water source has been tainted by refuse from the College of Magic. They'd have died quite painfully soon, like their parents, had I not intervened."
Garreth stared at him silently. For the first time, doubt was worming its way into his mind; the children *did* look remarkably healthy, and the room they were in was clean and suitable for their age. The man saw Garreth's puzzled expression and continued.
"Did you know that magic is not something you are born with?" he asked.
Garreth paused, surprised.
"Of course it is. All with the right talent go to the College; but magical talents are inherited and rarely occur naturally. Everyone knows that!" he said, but the air of certainty and divine fury was somewhat gone from his voice.
The man shook his head. "Look closer at the screen; do you see what the children have been drinking?"
Garreth narrowed his eyes until he realized what the man meant; on every table beside each child, a bottle of thick, red liquid rested. He'd seen the liquid many times before, recognized its characteristic hue of crimson, the exact opacity, the way it clung to the glass. Those were potions of greater healing; a commodity of exceedingly high value. He was, by now, confused.
"They're not actually very hard to make once you get the formula right. In fact, it could conceivably be mass-produced if I had more resources."
"If that were so, why would that be kept a secret?" Garreth asked.
"Because then it would become clear that magic isn't something for the chosen few. Everyone can do it; sure, some are born with a talent, much like a talented smith, but anyone can *learn*. But people can't know that. Because you'd no longer be able to keep the population in check. Because people would start to have the time to talk. And when people talk, they get ideas. And when they get ideas, they might start to wonder why they are supposed to suffer beneath a man just because, allegedly, some watery tart threw a sword at him," he went on.
"You see, what you call magic, I call science. It can be tested. Quantified. Replicated. And made to help the masses, but that would inherently weaken those in power. So they deem me evil; a villain; and rely on the goodwill of heroes to try and right this 'wrong'" he concluded.
Garreths confusion was mounting.
"This is impossible!" he breathed.
"It's really not quite-" the man interjected.
"The King and College would never do such a thing!"
"You need only to look at-" the man tried to explain.
"Why would you do all this, then?!"
"BECAUSE WE CAN DO BETTER!" the man suddenly yelled; a sudden and brief loss of composition, his frustration, having overflowed him, had now thrown him into a state of sorrow and palpable grief. "Because I've seen what we could be. A land where no babe needs to die in its mother's arms because of illness. Where one could pursue a profession of their choosing, have their head held high! Where the government would elevate its people, not shun them! Taught them to read, not grovel! To live, not survive!" The man raised his arms to his eyes, rubbing them; he was clearly uncomfortable with such an emotional outburst.
"Then why tell me? Why not just kill me and carry on?" Garreth calmly inquired. The man looked up at him.
"Because you heard of a dark and evil wizard that terrorized the land, and knowing he might easily kill you, decided to come here and stop me. Because you knew that it was right. Because you are... good." the man said softly.
Garreth's eyes darted around the room as conflict raged inside of him. There were in fact reports of ill deeds in the burned village, and the parents of the children did not die in a violent manner, but rather one akin to poison. The children did look healthy and... why would he supply them with an immensely rare and precious healing potion? If he was trying to brainwash them, it would still be a far too great investment. Was it truly... not that rare? Would that not mean the College lied?
Cautiously, he sheathed his sword and looked at the man.
"Before I entertain the idea of believing you, you will show me to the children. I must ensure they are safe and treated well."
The man's face turned from a mix of grief and anger to a more neutral one, though a hint of relief could be seen. He offered a smile and nodded, then walked off with the hero by his side. | Prince Gaven Makazi paused, staring up at the glowering wizard, the malefactor called Benjamin Sowelo, now cornered in his lair -- his "command and control center", the sorcerer had called it. Around Gaven and his elite knights, the wizard's minions lay dead, the flickering crystal plates they used to scry on and direct their forces unmanned.
The bulk of the magician's armies had, at last, been scattered in the hard-fought battle that had brought Gaven here, and his small force the young monarch-to-be had breached the wizard's inner sanctum and overcome his guards and minions. Only the wizard himself remained standing.
"You think me the villain, chosen one?" the wizard hissed.
"I think you mad, wizard." the Prince retorted, calmly. "Your dark magic has torn this realm apart, and threatens the safety of the entire world."
"What you call dark magic, I call science." the wizard snapped. "What you call safety is upholding a corrupt monarchy, lying about divine right. I have seen a better world, lived in it! So why do you uphold this glorious lie?"
The Prince sighed, deeply, and glanced at the knights surrounding him. The Elite Guard, his family's most trusted defenders, most at least distantly related by blood. They, and they alone, were permitted to bear witness to this.
Reaching inside his surcoat, the Prince withdrew his family's most precious relic -- The Mirror of Worlds. It was largely unadorned, seemingly a scratched and battered plate made of rectangular crystals and metal. He brushed its surface reverently, tracing the mystic pattern that unlocked its power, and then held its glowing surface towards the wizard Benjamin Sowelo.
The old man's eyes widened, and he took a step back. "H-how...how do you have a smartphone?"
The Prince nodded -- that the name for such arcane devices in the tongue of the Otherworld. "The royal family has kept this relic for over three hundred years, since the founder of our line first brought it here through the Gate of Realms -- the 'dimensional anomaly', in the tongue of my ancestors."
The wizard's jaw dropped. "But...how? I discovered the anomaly only two years ago, and I was the first to pass through it!"
"You *and the rest of the research team* discovered the anomaly." the Prince corrected, now speaking in the Otherworldly tongue. "Your decision to come here and 'enlighten' the primitives, however, was unilateral. Unfortunately for you, my ancestor, David MacKenzie, disagreed. And he discovered a phased time dilation effect in the anomaly -- at the right time on the other side, under the right conditions, he could pass through after you, and yet arrive before you. And so he did. He eventually founded this kingdom, as a bulwark against your influence, when you finally arrived."
"But why?" demanded the wizard.
"Why?" snarled the Prince, swiping a familiar pattern along the surface of the Mirror, before turning it back to face the wizard. "THIS is why!"
The wizard's eyes narrowed, as he peered into the mirror. "Pictures and video of....Stalin's Russia, Mao's China..."
"Yes. Those, as well as other lands in the Otherworld, where men with a little knowledge but VERY little wisdom thought they could perfect mankind, free him from all his dark impulses, end religion and superstition, and in a mere generation or two they would usher in a 'scientific' paradise of sharing and compassion." the Prince intoned, derisively. "And for a hundred years, they drowned the Otherworld in blood trying to do just that -- I'd call that empirical evidence that *it's a bad idea."*
"But I'm not--" the wizard began.
"Yes, yes. *You're* not like those men. *You* would do it right." the Prince dismissed.
"I would!" the wizard insisted, angrily.
"Do you know, my ancestor, despite not knowing you especially well, was certain you would say that?" the Prince mused. "This sort of thing must have become horrifically predictable, in the Otherworld."
"You're condemning these people to eternal ignorance!" fumed the wizard, as two of the Knights stepped up to seize him.
"On the contrary." the Prince replied, as turned to leave. "We are, in fact, giving them the knowledge of the Otherworld. We're just doing it a little at a time, as they become ready to receive it -- we've gone from tribal despotism to an orderly parliamentary monarchy in a mere three centuries, after all. If anything, we're ahead of schedule."
"You could do so much more!" pleaded the wizard. "They wouldn't have to spend centuries in in the darkness as the Otherworld did! Now that I know you're not just some backwards monarch, we could work together! We could make this world a paradise!"
The prince paused, and turned back. "You know the difference between us, wizard? I believe God chose my family to guide and protect these people. You believe you *are* God. I can't say I'm sorry to disabuse you of the notion." | 2022-01-17T14:48:41 | 2022-01-17T13:47:59 | 76 | 53 |
[WP] Every human has their soulmate's last words to them engraved in their skin from birth.
Idea from this Tumblr post
https://scontent-lga1-1.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-xpt1/v/t1.0-9/11206957_778391755645357_8477035769704355007_n.png?oh=5b3f35d575ad3aa39d6ba5c5ed39cce2&oe=56549C83 | I drummed my fingers against the gas station counter soundlessly, eyeing the different flavors of trident and orbit gum next to the registers. Usually the only real option for me was spearmint, but I'd gotten an energy drink, and nothing sounded quite so disgusting as a minty gum mixed with Monster. So I went for the mango and strawberry, only for the last one to be taken by thin fingers who'd gotten there just seconds before mine.
My hand hung awkwardly in the air for a moment as my eyes glanced up behind me over my shoulder and were met with equally awkward ones attached to a meek smile, "I'm sorry, you wanted them first. Go ahead."
I reached for a different flavor, berry short-something, and shook my head, "You took the drink I wanted. It's fine." I said, returning her smile.
Lord. Her eyes, her hair, her smile, even her nose; when I imagined falling in love, she is who I saw in my future. Short black wavy hair, honey brown eyes. Not exactly, but, it became very clear now.
"Thanks." she answered me with a still awkward smile. Her eyes dropped, but her smile stayed.
"Next, sir." the cashier called.
I quickly turned, bumping into the gum rack and nearly knocking it over. Both mine and the woman's hand's shot out to grab it and her hand landed on mine. We eventually straightened it, both of us apologizing to the cashier and each other repeatedly. I stepped forward and placed my items on the counter, glancing over my shoulder at the blushing woman rubbing her hand that had touched mine. I knew why. Mine still felt hot were we'd touched.
As I paid, I stared at the words etched onto the inside of my arm. 'That sounds wonderful'. It's what my soulmates last words are meant to be. Everyone had them somewhere on their body from birth, and I was always glad mine were uplifting. Some were 'I'll be right back', or 'See you tomorrow'. Those terrified me. But now I wished that those words were my soulmates first words to me, and that they read 'I'm sorry, you wanted them first'.
I finished my payment and nodded at the cashier, turning to make my exit. A hand on my shoulder stopped me. When I turned I found a piece of gum just inches from my face with that beautiful woman standing at arms length away, "Go ahead."
She was still blushing. Shit, I probably was too. I took the gum and nodded again, chuckling when I didn't mean to and offering a cheeky grin, "Thanks."
Outside the gas station, I slapped my cheeks hard, at least to spread out the blood from right beside my nose, fixed my hair, straightened my shirt, cracked open the Monster and took a few hard chugs. Then I waited. When I heard the bell on the door chime again, I brightened at the sight of the woman and held out my drink, "It's only fair." I said immediately.
She paused, settling into a comfortable smile as she took my drink and had a few hard chugs, just as I had. "Stephanie." she said as she handed it back.
"Charles." I muttered in response, slightly mesmerized by the way her lips moved as she spoke. But I snapped myself out of it and managed a smile, "Can I... take you to coffee sometime?" I asked.
She laughed, which made me laugh, and then we were awkwardly laughing together. But she nodded eventually, still laughing, "Yes, please. Well, not please- I mean- I'd like that."
Lord, she was cute. I never thought I'd get along so well with someone as awkward as me, but somehow it's happening. Maybe coffee will go well. Maybe we'll fall in love. Maybe the circumstances of the universe don't have to change, my words don't have to change, and she really could be my soulmate.
"Let me give you my number." she said, blinking and blushing at me.
I was staring at her that whole time. Stupid!
Mentally cussing myself out, I waited as she took out a small card from her purse and handed it to me, smiling the whole way, "I'm free all day tomorrow..."
"Me too," I said, taking the card. It was only for a second, but my finger brushed hers again and everything was hot. I pulled away too quickly, I know it, because she giggled at me behind her hand. I shook my head a bit and tried to smile through the embarrassment, "How about 2p.m. tomorrow?"
"That sounds wonderful." she said, smiling at me again and turning.
I went to my car with a stupid grin on my face and the card clenched tight in my hand. As I unlocked my door, I looked at the card again, just to make sure that such a spontanous meeting really had happened. Then I looked at the words on my arm. Then my stomach and smile dropped.
I looked up just in time to see a semi-truck spin off the highway and slam into the side of Stephanie's car. It was like life itself was stolen from me in that moment. Everything grew blurry and suddenly I was on my knees, screaming, glaring at the stupid fucking words on my arm. It really did sound wonderful. | The subway slid along noisily underneath the city streets. Sam sat quietly in one corner listening to music through one earphone and mindlessly eating his breakfast (a granola bar that was a bit too hard) with the other. He stared at the words written plainly up his forearm. Words he, and everyone else in the world, was born with. Superstition held that these words would be the last you'd ever hear from your one true companion in life. Sam supposed it wasn't really superstition if it was always true. Most people simply had some variation of "I love you" but others where more foreboding. Among the latter was Sam. Everyone agreed he had some of the most tragic words they'd ever seen. All that was written was "No, Dammit, wait!" Sam pictured himself dying some gallant death as his wife called him. He wasn't to upset about it though. All men must die eventually, and perhaps his end would be like something out of a movie.
Suddenly, a light kick in the shins jarred him from his thoughts and brought Sam back to the present. A girl was standing over him looking down expectedly. It took Sam a moment to clue in. "Oh, right. Sorry." He said as he slid over to make room on the bench. The girl took a seat next to him. Sam went back to his thoughts of romantic death and zoned out again. He didn't get to far though, because all of the sudden, the girl spoke up.
"Whatcha listening to?" She asked.
Sam looked at the girl and blanked. She was pretty, with an angular face and long brown hair in a ponytail. Suddenly he decided he wanted this particular girl to like what he was listening to.
"Uhhh, Mumford and Sons?" He lied.
The girl smiled. "Can I listen? I hate the music they play through the PA in this damn train."
Sam tried and failed to supress his smile. He quickly changed the song and gave her an earphone.
They struck up a conversation and Sam found himself wondering if this was the girl he would die so gallantly for. As he looked at her smile though, the thought didn't sadden him. Too soon, the train was nearing his stop. As he felt it start to slow he got a piece of paper out of his pocket to write his number. He handed it to her as he got up to leave and she handed him his other head phone. She put the number in her wallet.
"It was nice meeting you," Sam said. "But I have to go now." He smiled as he got up and was pushed away by the crowd. When he looked back, he saw that she was pale, looking at him as if she'd seen a ghost. "No, Dammit," She shouted to him. "Wait!" Sams heart sunk like a rock as he was pushed out the doors and they slid shut behind him. | 2015-08-08T13:50:34 | 2015-08-08T12:14:55 | 56 | 14 |
[WP] "For the *last time*, just because I dress like an edgelord and live in a giant castle constructed out of obsidian within a region of high volcanic activity DOES NOT mean I'm a villain! That's just, like, my aesthetic, bro!" | Rowan sighed as she spotted yet another stupid small-town hero walking up the path to her home. The hero was some fool who'd mistaken her home for some villainous lair made for nefarious purposes. *Maybe this one will suspect I'm secretly a dragon,* she thought sarcastically.
*... Maybe I should GET a dragon. Is that possible?*
A sound that resembled the screech of clanging metal resonated through her home. Ah, yes, the doorbell. She answered the door while trying to swallow the last bite of her eggs. "Hey, uh..." This hero was... Painfully underwhelming. Almost pitifully so. She almost wanted to let him beat her up just to give the poor thing a victory for once. She couldn't even continue with her speech about what actually counts as a villain. She was totally paralyzed by how sorry she felt for him.
The hero spoke- he had a loud and very resonant voice, surprisingly. "Madam, I, as a registered hero under-" Rowan broke out of her trance after a few words. She actually didn't feel sorry for him at all, now that she thought about it. She detested him and just felt disgusted, yet she couldn't place why. It was confusing, which only made her hate him more.
"Shut up," she snarled. "Look, for the LAST time, just because I dress like an edgelord and live in a giant castle constructed out of obsidian within a region of high volcanic activity DOES NOT mean I'm a villain! That's just my aesthetic! I'm a rich woman who likes how cool this looks! Will you stupid, worthless fucking heroes leave me the hell alone for once?!" Rowan slammed the door in his face- which was no easy feat, it required a lot of strength to do that normally. Now that she thought about it, none of this behavior was natural to her. Her heart was pumping and she was breathing fast. Her body was full of adrenaline from rage. This wasn't normal at all...
*Oh. That hero's one of those reality breakers. He's got some kind of psychological distortion ability from it.* In fact, Rowan found that a couple seconds after she closed the door, she didn't feel any of the things she'd felt upon first opening it.
The hero knocked again. Rowan raised her eyebrows, surprised at his persistence. And she found herself relieved that even though she still felt weird when she opened the door, it was nothing near as extreme as the first time. "Quite a pair of balls on you to knock again when someone blows up on you like that," Rowan commented. She couldn't actually get a proper handle on what the hero looked like. He looked different every time she actually looked at him.
The hero smiled sheepishly. "I was trying to come up here to do a wellness check. Quite a few residents had reported that they had not seen or heard of you in a few weeks. So regardless of how you respond I have to get a verbal confirmation that you are alright and able to still take care of yourself." He shuffled his feet. "I normally just help people with paperwork and find missing pets, because you know. Distortion and all that makes it hard to do anything *people*-related."
Rowan snorted. "I imagine it must be tough. Yes, I'm alright and still taking care of myself, I've just been using the delivery service a lot lately because it's so convienent now that reality breakers are allowed to use their abilities in normal jobs. Delivery people can actually get up here in less than a week!" Rowan felt herself smile. "So what's your name? I'm Rowan." The hero smiled back. "I'm Bernard, no known alias." | NOTICE:
It's all fine and dandy when your a little cutesy gnome, growing up in your suburban neighbourhood with your gang of friends, and getting your cushiony office jobs. It's harder for us who aren't like you y'know! Every, single, goddamn, day I mean come ON! Don't y'all have any better things to do than walk up to my house and tell me why I should be cutting back on the pixie dust and just how amazing BARBARA the bunny is! I've had it up to HERE repeating "No, just because I use magma instead of mead to wash dishes doesn't mean I'll get effuetilitis", "No, I do have a job", "No I'm not 'high on unihorn' right now", "No BARBARA I'm not secretly working to overthrow humanity I'm your goddamn plumber".
Please note that, due to the hazardous working conditions, I'll be limiting my services from between 4:00-12:00 AM, and the drop-in at home plumbing tutorial classes will stop until further notice. Thank you for your patience.
&#x200B;
Claw deathstroke,
Plumbers of The Wrath Demon, entry plumber. | 2021-03-22T23:06:29 | 2021-03-22T23:02:30 | 193 | 17 |
[WP] you technically operate an illegal, underground bar/clinic/therapy center. However, no one bothers you because its for supers. Describe a day listening to the woes and achievements of heroes, villains, and supers just trying to get by as you serve them liqour or patch them up. | "Whisky mate?" I asked, not even glancing up as I wiped my cloth along the glass, carefully treading the edge of the glass before letting out a satisfied sigh at the now sparkling glass.
"Yes please" the woman said with a groan as I began preparing her drink.
"What's got you annoyed today? For a villain you sure are a grumpy bitch." I snickered although my snicker certainly went a lot more quiet as I felt a painful tightening in my chest.
"What was that dear? Please remember I'm a villain." She said before the tension was released. After a quick huff of air, I slipped the drink towards her, tapping the tip jar with a smirk.
"A tip?" I enquired as she merely granted me a cold stare, clearly not in the mood for my antics tonight, regardless she dropped a few notes into the tip jar.
"You are lucky you sell good booze, if you didn't I would have you hanging from some rooftop by your balls." She snickered, quickly slamming back the drink, not even taking a second to taste it.
"Oh charming. Is that how you flirt with all the guys?" I winked before sighing. "Look whats got you all turned up? You aren't usually a stick in the mud, did something happen."
She glanced up from her empty glass, tracing its edges before finally speaking. "It's just... these heroes nowadays. They don't fight the way they used to. Theres no more theatrics, its just bang bang and they are done. I have never been a fan of a quickshooter, but thats all the fights are now. I just wish I could fight someone that really lets my villainy shine. Frankly I'm to good for these rookies, a lady of my talents should be ruling corporations, not getting locked up by the latest rookie that has a hard on for justice. Honestly its just no as fun as it was."
"Mmm, yeah I get that mate, Perhaps you are getting to old for the business? How old are you now?" I teased, unable to help myself, yet she hardly seemed defensive about the subject anymore.
"Thirty five and not getting younger. Maybe you are right.. its just what does an ex villain do? The world doesn't forgive us. Its not like im going to be able to just go work a normal job. I have money saved up but I doubt it will keep me going for a long enough time. This is the sort of business where your only retirement is death, you should know that." She muttered, pointing to the board behind the dusty bottles of booze against the wall. The board had 'hall of fame' printed over it, pictures of past villains enjoying their drinks scattered it. It was a grim reminder that their lives were quick to end, some barely even getting a headline or article mentioned about them. Many people didn't see villains like humans, it was tragic, some were just kids trying to make a change, those were the ones that broke your heart.
My brief glance of into space was broken by a long nail tapping the wooden counter. "Its cute how much you care about us barkeep. The fact you have the respect of so many villains is a rare sight, I have heard many villains say they would be willing to stand up for this bar even if it cost them their lives"
"Thats flattering, but I wouldn't want them to throw their lives away for me. I really hope one day I can stop putting photos up. That reminds me, please don't end up like the others, if you are done with the business, I can help you get back into life ok? Please Kat... I don't like losing my regulars." I added, trying to soften my words, not wanting to act like such a softy towards the villain, yet my words did cause her to smile.
"If I do, please use one of my more flattering photos." She chuckled giving me a small smack on the back. "Cheer up, you aren't allowed to be mopey, plus I can hear another customer coming, so back straight and put on a smile, also refill my drink."
{If you enjoyed my story, Feel free to check out r/pmmeyabootysstories where ill be posting some more of my stuff for people to read} | You would think that running an exclusive bar like this would be stressful. I mean, a simple bar fight might escalate into a civil war or armegedon. Well, I haven't seen any. I guess the other sups know too, and nobody ruffs up their favorite bars. Plus, most of them just want to escape the inharently violent nature of their work.
I had one of my regulars pounding pint after pint. It's hard to rule a cut-off for sups because some of them are average Joes with a gimmick, but some of them are the pure definition of Homo-Superior. He just kept slamming them back with a somber look on his face. I could tell he was trying really hard to get blackout drunk, but couldn't. I ask, "What's troubling you today?" The super broke down. He was a messy crier. He wept, "my wife me today." I put two more pints down, and asked, "She give a reason?" He said, "I talked about quitting my mundane job to go full time hero. We could live off of just her paycheck, or I could become an unmasked hero and live a life of riches." I said, "That doesn't sound too bad." He corrected me, "Well, she didn't want either. She insisted living off of her check wasn't enough, and those close to unmasked heroes often end up dead." I say, "Maybe you need a super new girlfriend." He chuckled and turned around on the bar stool. He was leaning against the bar with all the weight of his muscles. His shirt could barely contain the sheer volume. He said, "Why not? I am the man of steel after all." What have I done? | 2019-09-21T06:45:31 | 2019-09-21T06:16:26 | 20 | 13 |
[WP] A powerful necromancer is trying to raise the dead. However, despite trying different vessels and rituals, he has only raised you. Over. And over. And over. You're both starting to get sick of each other. | "Sarah?" asked the necromancer. His mouth was dry and his heart beat like a gavel in his ears. Every time, the anticipation - *the hope* - swallowed him up and allowed him to imagine she was back. Then, it would chew him up and spit him out, and he would feel the same terrible things as when he'd found her body in the bathroom.
It took her a moment to realise she had returned. She craned her neck up to look for the necromancer. He stood at the end of the table, his lips trembling, and his pale face wearing a smile that was at the same time hopeful and utterly desperate. It pained her to see him like this.
"I'm sorry, James."
"Diana..." he whispered, as he slumped down against a bookshelf. "It's you again..."
Diana's arms gained feeling before her legs; one at a time, she threw her thighs off the table and, using her legs as anchors, sat up. James' face was more lined than before and his hairline had scampered further back. His eyes were gray and hollow. Diana thought he was the most tortured soul she'd ever seen.
She turned her head slowly and looked about the basement; the bookshelves held many new black tomes, thick and weathered. There were both more crosses and pentagrams dotted around the room - more of his wife's old dresses, too. Then, she saw the mirror and let out a gasp.
James looked up. "Are you okay, Diana?"
"Where... where did you get the body from?" She gently touched her face, running a finger down the smooth curves of her cheeks.
"Oh. She was in a skiing accident. Broke her neck. You," he paused and frowned, "you didn't think I killed her, did you?"
"No! The thought never crossed my mind," she lied.
"Good. Because, you know me better than that by now, I think."
"Of course. It's just I was taken back... *she's so beautiful*."
James nodded. "I think Sarah would have been happy with it."
She nodded. "James," Diana began, reaching down and stretching her legs out, "you can't keep doing this."
"I'm *so* close, Diana. I think I even know where I went wrong - next time I'll get it!"
Diana sighed. "James, listen to me. She's not coming back."
"You're wrong!" he snapped. "I just need to keep going. I need to keep trying."
Diana saw tears welling in the necromancer's eyes, and felt a warm wetness running down her own cheeks. She couldn't stand it any longer. It would hurt him, but she had to do it. She had to put an end to this - for her sake, and for his.
"James, you know how she died."
"Yes, of course. She was murdered - and I wasn't there to protect her."
"You found her in the bath."
"They slit her wrists," he said, his face blank and his voice suddenly void of emotion.
"*She* slit her wrists."
"No. That's not what happened."
"I've spoken to her, James. Many times."
"*What?*" he said, his eyes widening and his teeth clenching together. "Why wouldn't you have told me that before!"
"I didn't want to tell you because, I thought it would hurt you too much."
He paused for a moment. "When you go back, I need you to find her. Tell her, I'll find a way to bring her here. Tell her, I love her."
"She loves you too, James."
"I know," he whispered.
"But she doesn't want to come back. She can't. She chose to leave the world, not just you. Trying to force her back, because you miss her... it's... it's just selfish."
"Go back," James said, getting up from the floor. "Go back, before I send you back myself." Both his arms and voice were trembling.
"Please, James."
"Go back!" he screamed, running to a shelf and snatching a knife. "Or I swear to God..."
Diana swallowed. She forced herself off the table and began walking toward James. She *had* to get to him, to make him see - but she only managed a single step before her legs gave way and she fell to the cold, concrete floor. Her head bounced off the ground and pain shot through her body.
James walked over to her, knife in hand. He turned her over; blood dribbled out of her forehead, dyeing her blonde hair a sticky strawberry.
"I'm sorry," he said.
"Please... don't bring me back anymore," she said, as the knife hung over her chest. "Let this be the end."
There was something new in her voice - or maybe it was in her eyes - that surprised James. It was something *familiar*.
"Sarah?" he whispered as his face grew pale.
The blade rested above her for a few seconds, swaying back and forth like a pendulum. She thrust her arms up and grabbed hold of his hands; she forced them down, plunging the knife deep into her chest.
She could feel her life slipping away. Somewhere far in the distance, she could hear James screaming - *begging*.
"Goodbye, baby," she said, as the light dwindled to darkness.
---
/r/nickofnight | "This is a 245th time," was my tired greeting. I'd died in 1786, though I didn't know when I would die for real. Again and again, people tried to raise me. Its towering presence intimidated me to a small extent, for my incredulous amount of meetings with him removed all forms of fear. It was just...irritation. Irritation that I would never get a place in history without editing it.
"I know," the sorcerer said lazily, propping the summoning tome against the wall. "It's always you. Whenever I ask for a person to help, the only guy on call is you." I chuckled. My importance was often underestimated, and though many in the mortal sphere knew my names, few knew me in person.
"So? What job do you have for me?" I said, jokingly mimicking his lazy position. The sorcerer laughed, and pointed to the TV. A man stood before a large podium, pompously making a speech. I rolled my eyes. All of the clients, they were always the same. Power-hungry, coveting leadership...I wanted to stay out of this political nonsense. But with every political leader came the need for me. So I waited for my instructions.
"Carry out Stage 5 on him," the sorcerer said plainly. I raised my eyebrows. This was only my second case of Stage 5, my first being...well, I couldn't disclose it. Client confidentiality, after all. But it sufficed to say that my last experience with Stage 5 leaders was...unpleasant. I looked again at the man speaking, as a wave of disgust rose in me. He was talking about...legalize *child porn and slavery*. And none of his supporters were opposing it. From other clips the summoner showed, I saw his embezzlement, his failed promises, his eloquent rallying speeches talking of the things he never did. Stage 5 seemed justified now. Even a Stage 6 wouldn't have been a problem. I was always excited at a new case, less so with Stage 1 leaders, but this? I wouldn't have missed it for worlds.
"So? Deal?" the sorcerer asked, cocking his head to meet my determined gaze. I stopped myself as I was about to give my hearty response. The sorcerer's cases were fun but...he wasn't. Far from it. But it'd been a stretch of 57 Stage 1 cases before this one, so I had to cut him some slack. I nodded, slyly smiling. "Always a pleasure to do business with you, Leadership," I replied.
"You too, Corruption. Have a nice time," he said, winking as I left. Our fates were intertwined, and though I wanted to but would never rest, the calling always gave me a joy. The joy of a hunt.
_________________________________________________________________
More over at r/Whale62! Sequels at popular request! | 2017-07-22T05:50:29 | 2017-07-22T05:45:54 | 405 | 142 |
[WP] Writing prompt: Your ex-girlfriend is the world's most powerful sorcerer...now she wants you back. She doesn't know that you're dating her sister. | You would have thought a woman with power like hers could have stopped me when I left. For all I know she could have just changed my mind for me. Hell, maybe she did. Maybe I left her so many times that she just couldn't deal with the emotional stress anymore. For her sake, I hope she didn't put herself through that. I'd feel even more guilty than I already do.
It's not my fault, really. Erin came to me a couple of months after I left Hannah. It wasn't like we started anything right off the bat either. She just happened to be visiting NYC and stopped by. We had been friends when I was dating her sister, so there wasn't anything too weird about it. I took her to my favorite bar and we had a good time chatting it up...remembering old times.
It wasn't until a few months after that, when things really got serious. We continued chatting over text, learning that we actually had way more in common than *I* had ever expected. Texts evolved into calls, and then into video calls. Finally I was flying out to San Fran that summer, and we made it official. For some stupid fucking reason I never told Hannah, and asked Erin to keep it secret too. It would have made things so much easier if I had just let her know, but now here we are.
Last week Hannah got into contact with me.
"I really miss what we had," the text read.
I had stared pretty stupidly at that screen for way too long. I don't know why—and I kinda hate myself for it—I felt a twinge of something for her once again. Maybe it's that universal desire to be loved, or maybe it was just shock. I don't know but it doesn't matter, because it couldn't possibly compare to what I feel for Erin. Sure she's mundane. Mundane like most of us, but does that really matter? It's not like the sorcery is what drew me to Hannah anyway. Was it? God I hope she didn't mind control me.
I didn't know how to respond to Hannah, so I just asked to meetup with her. Unfortunately she agreed.
So here I am, outside her apartment, fumbling the ring in my pocket. Maybe it's too soon. I don't know, but something told me it was the right thing to do. I hear her rustle inside and the golden band falls still. I don't know what I expected when she opened the door, but seeing her face again was nice. Hannah grinned a soft and inviting smile as she welcomed me in. My head has gone numb at this point. Maybe she said something when she gestured me in, maybe she didn't. I didn't hear it if she did.
Her new apartment is nice. Her "theme" seems to be a combination of modern design and that "cabin style" a lot of people seem to go for. I don't get it, but it's not my place.
"Have a seat," Hannah says as she reclines into one of her lounge chairs.
I notice her attire for the first time. Pink bunny PJ's and and red socks. Simple. Elegant. Not at all what you'd expect the most powerful woman in the world to wear.
"I\- I'd like to stand for this," I say with an awkward shuffle of my feet.
Why the hell did I just say that? Jesus.
Before I even realize it, I'm holding the ring in front of my face. My eyes widen. Her's do too. The conversation hasn't even started and I've fucked the whole thing up. Her face twists from surprise into a deeply concerned frown. I can tell she's standing up to smite me where I stand, assuming I've been too bold or misunderstood her invitation, but I swear I didn't. She's misreading the whole thing. I mean that's definitely my fault. I still haven't said anything. End me please, God.
"Wait!" I finally yell, sure I'm seconds away from obliteration, "This isn't for you."
A wave of varied emotions rapidly cross her face before she settles on mild, patient anger, but clearly she's waiting for me to explain.
"I\- I'm dating Erin," I finally force out.
That wasn't so bad.
So here I am, outside her apartment, fumbling the ring in my pocket. Maybe it's too soon. I don't know, but something told me it was the right thing to do. I hear her rustle inside and the golden band falls still. I don't know what I expected when she opened the door, but seeing her face again was nice. Hannah grinned a soft and inviting smile as she welcomed me in. My head has gone numb at this point. Maybe she said something when she gestured me in, maybe she didn't. I didn't hear it if she did.
"It's ok," Hannah says, stopping me in the doorway.
I blink.
"What?"
Hannah shakes her head and softly pushes me back.
"I know about Erin," she says, grabbing my hand and pulling me deeper into the apartment. I really have no idea how to react to what she just said. Her new apartment is nice. Her "theme" seems to be a combination of modern design and that "cabin style" a lot of people seem to go for. I don't get it, but it's not my place. To my surprise, Erin is sitting on one of Hannah's couches. I couldn't help but flush immediately red. I'm sure I could have been seen outside the window like a fucking flare. I'm completely enraptured by Erin's beauty.
She's done something to look nice. Oh right, it's the dress. Of course it's the dress. Why is she in a dress?
Hannah taps the pocket where my ring is, grins, and disappears into what is presumably her kitchen.
So that's how I proposed to the sister of the most powerful sorcerer in the world.
I'm still trying to figure out how Hannah knew. | I was sitting in the tavern with a mug of beer in my hands. Sundays were always boring in this city. No bar brawls, no drunks running around in the streets naked while singing old church songs and no gladiator battles. Not since the great scorceress Vilia took control over the kingdom. Her reign brought peace and prosperity to these lands. But now it was so peaceful it almost hurt.
I lifted my hand to order another beer.
"You had enough. The new rules prohibit me from giving you more than 6 beers per day. The rule is epecially enforced on sundays to make sure people are not coming drunk to work on monday."
"Thats bullshit! Who even gave the sorceress the idea to make a law like this!"
"YOU!"
Everyone in the room shouted at the same time.
"Why the fuck couldn't you behave better in her presence?"
"Her time with you probably traumatised her!"
"You are the worst example of a man in this kingdom!"
Some of the people started throwing empty mugs and food at me. Soon they would try to hang me from the next tree.
The bartender slammed his hand on the table.
"Now now guys, we are civilized people. We don't want to turn into THIS man. So go back tending your own businesses like good citizens.
The crowd grumbled but returned to their tables.
"And you, while you are still a welcome guest here we all would appreciate if you could behave better. Causes less headaches for us a....."
The door of the tavern opened and everyone stopped talking.
A beautiful girl walked into the tavern. When she spotted me she ran to me and gave me a kiss. Everyone in the room exept us two went pale.
"So thats were you have been! I've been looking for you in the entire city!"
Before I could answer her a gasp went trough the tavern. Behind my new girlfriend Flyssa the great sorceress Vilia entered the tavern. She saw the kiss I shared with Flyssa and she tried her best to hide her anger. However her twitching eyebrows and a sudden drop of temperature in the room told otherwise.
"Oh hello Horsa. Flyssa, how do you two know each other?"
"Him? Oh he is my new boyfriend. The guy I told you about."
She answered before I could intervene. The people in the tavern knew what that meant and the first ones were already sneaking out of the building.
"Flyssa, would you please be a dear and wait for me at home? Me and Horsa have something to discuss."
"Ok."
Flyssa gave me a kiss on the cheek and left.
"I knew you were a depraved and disgusting man from our time together, but this is an entire new dimension."
"Hey, I....I...I didn't do anything to her! She also said she was 18! All I did was inviting her for a few drinks a..."
"A few drinks??? She is underage you fucking pervert! You took an innocent underage girl out for some drinks???"
Vilia looked at the bartender who frantically shook his head.
"I'm giving you headstart of 30 seconds asshole!"
It almost felt like I just shit my pants.
"C...C...Couldn't you give me a bit more for old times sake?"
"14!"
"Ah shit....."
| 2018-06-05T13:21:29 | 2018-06-05T11:41:04 | 188 | 129 |
[WP] The hero was killed, the princess was sacrificed, and the evil king rules the land. For the average citizen, though, things have taken a turn for the better. | **Eldrich The White Knight**: "Fair gentlemen and gentlewomen of Farlandia. I have come to avenge the deaths of your good King Fairlawn and his daughter, Princess Moon. For years since the Black King took over, you have lived in this" *Motions around* "squalor. I for one seem to- uh... look I don't usually do questions... Ok. Guy in the second row".
**Peasant**: "You do realize this is Historic Farlandia right?".
**Eldrich**: "Historic?".
**Peasant**: "Yeah. It's a tourist town. Most of us live in the city by the factories".
**Eldrich**: "Ahh yes. The factories. The Black King, has taken it upon himself to sell arms to the Orcs of Novenguarde and the Elves of the Red Forest".
**Peasant**: "If by sell arms you mean brought industry to a former farming community then yeah. He did that".
**Eldrich**: "So you think it's justified than?".
**Elf**: "You do realize it's called the Red Forest because the former King's father burned those villages right?".
**Eldrich**: "Yes but that was because-"
**Elf**: "We worshiped the tree gods. A practice the Black King okayed. Actually he made it legal to worship anything of your choosing. My husband worships the orc gods".
**Eldrich**: "Husband?"
**Elf**: "Yeah...Why?".
**Eldrich**: "Well... it's just that you're a... you know.... a male elf".
**Elf**: "Wow"
**Peasant**: "Not fucking cool bro".
**Elf**: "You know it's prejudices like that the Black King's 'Equal Work' Program is trying to stomp out".
**Eldrich**: "EITHER WAY! You are forced to slave away in the factories-"
**Female Peasant**: "If by slave away you mean work a mandated 8 hour shift for good pay then yes we do".
**Eldrich**: "I'm sorry and you are?"
**Female Peasant**: "Miranda. I'm the head of the sword makers union. And I know personal stories don't set a standard, but I'll have you know that 'slaving away' made me enough money to move from my wicked step mother's house. You know what opportunities are available to women who live with their wicked step mothers? Either die and be a tragic heroes backstory, or marry a prince".
**Peasant**: "And... I hope you don't mind me adding Miranda" *Miranda holds up her hand and shakes her head in an 'It's Ok motion'* "Thanks. The Union has given us a minimum wage, a great healthcare plan, and no more sudden songs. When I was a farmer, Princess Moon would make us all burst out into song about birds and crap whenever she was happy. Which was fucking always. I got three kids. One in college to be a guard. I don't have time for singing".
**Eldrich**: "Ah yes. The Guard. Or as we call it, The Black Army".
**Elf**: "Who have cut our crime rate down by 75%. You see the key is community policing".
**Eldrich**: "ENOUGH! *draws sword* I WILL STILL AVENGE.......What is it now?"
**Peasant**: "You have a permit for that right?"
**Eldrich**: "What man needs a permit for a sword?"
**Peasant**: "Everyone. Don't get me wrong the Black King decreed that the right to own a sword is guaranteed by decree. But we still have criminal background checks".
**Eldrich**: "If you're all so happy with your King then why are you listening to me?".
**Elf**: "We all have the day off. Blood Moon Day. The Black King made it so all important religious holidays are observed".
**Eldrich**: "Hmm. I guess he would with any Pagan-".
**Elf**: "Wow!"
**Peasant**: "Not fucking cool bro".
**Miranda**: "I bet the only reason you want to overthrow the King is because he's a BLACK King".
**Eldrich**: "NOOOO! I have plenty of friends who are Black Knights".
**Miranda**: "They just shouldn't be king right?"
**Eldrich**: "Well. Some of them-"
**Miranda**: "Uh-Huh. I see what this is about. Come on everyone. Back to the festival".
**Eldrich**: "Wait. No! You have to rise-"
**Orc Guard**: "Excuse me... Do you have a permit for that sword?"
**Eldrich**: "I don't-".
**Orc Guard**: "Ok pal. You're coming with me".
**Elf**: *To Orc Guard* "See you at home babe".
Edit: Thank you for the gold | My fellow Americans, Mr. Speaker, Ladies and Gentlemen of Congress and members of the press, thank you for joining me this evening.
It is with great sadness that we come together this evening. For the past eight years, it has been both an honor and a privilege to represent this great nation as your President. As you are all well aware by now, I have been asked to formally announce that the 2016 Presidential Elect, Donald J. Trump and Vice President Elect Carly Fiorina, lost their lives this afternoon upon their arrival for tomorrow's scheduled inauguration events.
I am not here to discuss the details of this tragic event, however the media will work to keep you all informed as more information becomes available.
I am here tonight to discuss how our nation will move forward. It is a great challenge for us all to face this untimely news, and it is my responsibility, along with Congress and the Supreme Court, to determine the appropriate course of events.
This evening, I signed an executive order to extend my term as President for a minimum period of 12 months. Prior to signing the order, I met briefly with bipartisan representatives of the Senate and the House. In addition, I met with Vice President Biden, Speaker Ryan and select members of our National Security Team. I believe that during this traumatic time, this decision will provide stability and continued security of the American people.
We, as a nation, have faced horrific events during my tenure as President. We have seen an increase in global terrorism, as well as terrorism in our homeland. It is a terrible tragedy that our newly elected President and Vice President have been the latest victims of the efforts of those who seek to undermine the security and well-being of our great nation.
I therefore, cannot in good conscience, step down from my responsibilities. I do have a few details about my extended tenure to share. Vice President Biden has decided that he will not continue as in his position. In lieu of an election, in the interest of continuity, I am appointing Hillary Clinton to the Vice Presidential position.
I am ordering that our nation's flag be lowered to half mast, for a period of three months. In addition, Vice President Clinton and I will be meeting with Congress and cabinet members over the next several days, in order to ensure continued government operation in light of the events of today.
I cannot take questions at this time, however my office will be releasing periodic updates as they become available.
Thank You. And good night. | 2016-07-10T15:53:09 | 2016-07-10T10:46:19 | 2,386 | 11 |
[WP] In the far future an advanced alien civilization is attempting to join forces with Humanity, they agree to join them on the condition that they receive, alongside the already agreed upon deal, a living member of their species to be studied. That "living member" is you. | My boss smiled at the alien. Tentacles were oozing out of his nostrils and his weird alien body was fluttering in the wind even though it was a shapeless floating blob.
“An interesting offer,” said my boss, nodding. “Could you give us a moment?”
“Of course, of course,“ the alien muttered, bowing. “Please take your time.“
The alien politely floated back to his gathering of alien friends, who were all similarly frothing and bubbling in alien like fashions. They were all wearing neat purple robes on their many tentacled, nebulous blob-like bodies.
I looked at my coworkers. They all looked worried.
The fate of the world rested on our uniformed shoulders. If the aliens agreed to join us, we could borrow their science and technology and maybe solve world hunger. Or cure cancer and fix the world before we all died in the climate wars at least. I didn’t want to be a fry cook my whole life. It would be nice to retire someday.
“Huddle up,“ said my boss, and we all fell together.
“Why the fuck do they want you, Jim?“ said Steve, looking bewildered. “You barely come to work on time, barely follow instructions, and I’m positive I saw you steal out of the register one time.”
Ouch.
“Out of everyone on earth, out of every crazy, rich, beautiful celebrity or genius scientist, why would they want you?” whispered Steve.
That also stung. I just shrugged in response.
“Also, I don’t know what management is thinking, making you fry cook. I’m sorry, man, I don’t think they want you for you. I think it’s some kind of trap.”
“What kind of trap could involve him?” my boss said in a rude way. Well, less in a rude way and more like in a fatherly way that was filled with disappointment.
“Have you guys ever considered that I’m more valuable than you think?” I tried unsuccessfully to keep the sarcasm out of my voice. “Just because you guys are jerks that can’t see my value, doesn’t mean I have none. In fact, I’m pretty sure these guys know what they’re doing. They travelled all the way across space to get here right? They must have fancy spaceships that we can’t even imagine. Who knows how smart and advanced they are?”
I turned to look at them. They were politely looming in the distance. I was glad these aliens were polite and spoke our language. With all the tentacles they had, this could go very wrong if they were more of the crazy murdering genocidal type.
“I mean,” I said, searching for words, “They could have picked anyone on earth, but they chose me. Out of all the scientists and world leaders, they chose ME.”
Not gonna lie, it felt nice to be appreciated enough to not be talked about as a liability in a negotiation for once.
“Yeah..” said Steve, staring blankly at the ground. “That’s true. Well, sure, if all we have to do is give up Jim for super advanced alien technology?”
Steve nodded and looked at the others.
“That’s a good point,” said another coworker.
“Actually, we’d better agree before they change their minds,” said someone else.
“If they have minds, we’re lucky they’re not using them,” said someone else.
I frowned.
My boss gave everyone a long hard look and also nodded in response.
We broke, and he strode over to the alien group with confidence in each step.
“Well, Nub’ShuGGurath,” said my boss, making sure to really pronounce the “G”. “We’ve talked it over and I’m glad to say we’ve come to an agreement.”
He held out a hand, beaming and ready for a handshake.
The alien tilted his head, gazing at the hand in wonder before my boss took one of his tentacles in hand and shook it.
“It’s a deal.”
The alien stopped frothing and foaming and emitted high pitched sounds of what sounded like glee.
“Excelllent. Excellent!” The alen clapped his tentacles together.
“Gor’zzarak, dear!”
“Yes, daddy?” said a smaller alien in a high pitched voice.
“I’m sorry I’m late, but I got you a little human pet like I promised.”
“Oh daddy!”
“Happy birthday, sweetheart.”
The alien tapped a squeaky tentacle on his daughter’s head. She turned to look at me and smiled with glee, showing off the thousands of sharp little incizors gleaming in her mouth. | There were four assigned to study me. There was Yrrk, the short one, the one with glasses, and there was Norm. Norm by far was my favorite since he makes the least amount of noise and he watches Stranger Things with me.
Netflix… Thank God they gave me Netflix. They downloaded the whole damn catalog, every show, every movie, every language, even the new unreleased stuff, all of it on my own personal server . I don’t even want to know how many terabytes that was. That was part of the deal though. That and Vanilla Coke. Every month when the delegation from earth comes I get my updates and my Coke and letters from mom.
I should ask them to send Oreos next time. Norm would like to try them I think.
So that’s my life I guess. Norm and TV and Coke. The others take their job way too seriously. I can’t even scratch myself without Yrrk taking notes on the matter. When I set dinner out only Norm will sit with me. I think the short alien tried a hot dog ; once. Yrrk always looks disgusted with whatever I eat but he hides it well.
Once Norm snuck some food to me from the employee cafeteria. It was some sort of blue goo that writhed and jiggled all on its own. It was tastier than it looked, but to be honest it didn’t look that appetizing in the first place.
If only I could understand what they were saying. Things would go a lot smoother, that’s for sure. Norm taught me the words for the blue goo, and Yrrk, and good morning , and how to pronounce his actual name. He doesn’t seem to mind me calling him Norm though.
I’ve got ten more years of this. Ten years before the governments decide whether or not to tell people of the Aliens, and the Aliens tell their people about us. For now they just observe, trying to figure out if we can adapt to each other, if we can coexist. Maybe after this is all over I’ll ask Norm out on a date. | 2022-07-16T01:28:20 | 2022-07-15T23:53:01 | 24 | 14 |
[WP] Hundreds of years in the future, nerds fondly over-romanticize the late 20th/ early 21st century in completely historically inaccurate and anachronistic festivals akin to modern Renfaires. | "Come one, come all, and try your hand at Tinderrr! See how your great-great grandparents found love! Instant transfer to your phone for only five dollars!"
Melissa was skeptical about spending that much money for an ancient program, but Beth was persistent and after being dragged by the booth a third time, she finally caved. That didn't stop her from looking apprehensive as she handed her phone over to the man dressed in a poorly made Kanye West costume, though. His attempt at an Australian accent was atrocious, and Mel thought it was a pretty disrespectful imitation of one of the great geniuses of the millennium, but she bit her tongue as he handed her phone back.
"It'll be totally worth it, Mel! And who knows, there are loads of cute guys wandering around. Maybe you'll meet your perfect match!"
"Yeah, maaaybe."
Melissa made a wry face as she set her phone to hover for a profile picture, but her scornful expression turned to shock as Beth grabbed her phone out of the air.
"No! Come on, Mel, you have to use the stick. I spent twenty dollars on that thing so we need to get our money's worth."
Melissa groaned.
"Seriously? That thing is a pain in the ass. No lighting, no auto best angle, and you have a fucking stick in the photo."
"Come oooon, please?" Beth whined. "Everyone used one back then. And everyone walking around is carrying one. I don't want to be the weirdos that refuse to use it."
"Okay, okay. But you owe me a butterbeer later."
Melissa swung the unwieldy stick from one side to the other, trying to determine the best background to match her bright blue pantsuit. The Blue Lives Matter sign would have been ideal, but several young men covered in blue paint were drunkenly singing Beyonce songs in front of it and showed no signs of moving anytime soon.
"Just go with the Victoria's Secret sign!" Beth exclaimed. "The pink makes the blue stand out, and you're sending the message that you're a strong, independent woman wearing sexy underwear."
"...I kinda like the United Nations booth with all the flags, though. It makes me feel like Hillary."
"That's fine too! Just hurry up already so we can start checking out boys!"
Mel stuck her tongue out according to the fashion of the day, snapped a photo, and handed the stick back to her sister.
"I should've worn something cuter," Beth complained as she used the stick to take a picture of herself posing beside a statue of Vladimir Putin mounted on an emu. "Or at least something cooler than a yoga suit. How could people stand to be covered from neck down in neoprene back then?"
"Maybe the Earth just wasn't as hot?" Mel suggested. "My dad said back then there used to be a continent that was just ice."
Beth shrugged, clearly no longer listening as she began looking through her matches.
"Oooh, what do you think of this one??"
She held up a picture of a tall blond man wearing pale makeup, heavy eyeliner, and a pink fedora with matching bow-tie and suspenders. His left hand was clutching a large stuffed tiger won from one of the Pokemon games nearby while his right hand was holding his phone stick. Instead of sticking his tongue all the way out he had opted to pout his lips like an old time Instagram model.
Melissa stared intently at the photo.
"Adrian? He's pretty hot! Is he going for the hipster look? It really works for him. Too bad guys don't dress like that anymore."
"I know, right?" Beth replied as she swiped to the right of her screen.
"OHMIGOD!! IT'S A MATCH! HE LIKES ME TOO!"
Beth jumped up and down, squealing in excitement.
"I can't believe it! The first guy I like is a match!!! Should I say hi?"
"What would you say? I mean it's different in text than in hologram, right?"
"Ummm, how about I really like your hat? There's no way to misinterpret that, is there?"
But before the discussion went any further, a message notification popped up on Beth's screen.
"HE WROTE ME!!"
"What? What does it say??"
"Dear Beth, I hope you are having fun at the fair today. I think you are really beautiful and would love to buy you a cocktail at the wild west bar. Would you care to meet me in front of the Tonto statue? It's right beside the giant Will Smith so you can't miss it. Yours, Adrian. PS. This letter writing thing is strange, but I kind of like it."
Beth beamed.
"Do you mind if I go?"
Mel shook her head and embraced her sister in a tight hug.
"No, go ahead, I'm going to wander over to the Lord of the Rings exhibit. Apparently you can get temporary elf ears. I hope your date goes well!"
"Me too! Maybe our ancestors were right to use Tinder. Every time I try modern online dating I get flooded with hologram dicks." | "You have offended M'Lady, JB! I challenge you to a Pokemon duel!" - the man in fedora cried out. Despite being relatively fit, he was wearing a fake belly that sagged under his clothes, and under his chin hung a relatively untended fake beard.
His opponent, his peer in a tight jersey, baseball cap that he wore backwards and the narrowest shades in existence of ugly orange colour crossed his hands on the chest: "Pokemons are the foul beasts, pets of those who cannot let go of their once glorious past! Such bestial fights are not to be indulged by such a fine lad as I, for I truly know: the Big Brother uses thoust interests to watch thee! I spit on you, fool! The PvP fight it is, no Estus, bro!" - the man said, coming forward while stretching his arms out.
The audience was watching a spectacle in awe: before them, the glorious battle of the past was taking place.
"I never knew that 'Console Wars' were so interesting!" - one man whispered to another.
"Yeah, but I heard there are historical inconsistencies in it: the SunBro should be riding a pony" - his partner replied.
"Don't rush it, there's still The Third Act ahead".
The opponents pulled out their Estocs and started measuring each other, looking for an opening in each other's defence. The classical music - an undying hit of Katy Perry - suddenly changed to dubstep as the man in shades pulled out of nowhere a giant two-handed sword.
"The Legend Never Dies!" - he shouted as he charged at his opponent, only to be stopped by a skilful combo - 7 identical pokes of a rapier - of his enemy.
The audience gasped. "What a curbstomp!" - somebody whispered.
"Let it be known that on this day the nerds prevailed in an honest fight!" - the bearded man shouted. The audience cheered, only to gasp again as the man in the green mask of a frog walked onto the scene. "Your Facebook posts shall not be acknowledged" - the creature stated. The light slowly faded out, and as the curtain was dropping, the audience erupted in cheers: the third act was sure going to be interesting.
_____
To get my releases ahead of everybody else and get your hands on Advance Reading Copies of my books, subscribe to [r/Scandalist](https://www.reddit.com/r/Scandalist/comments/4n4iu6/authors_message_welcome_new_readers/)! | 2016-07-21T14:43:55 | 2016-07-21T11:03:00 | 92 | 23 |
[WP] Among Alien species humans are famous for prefering pacifism but being the most dangerous species when they are forced to fight.
EDIT:WOW THIS EXPLODED GUYS MY FIRST MAJOR PROMPT. | --start recording--
I give you this message, my child, so that you may learn from our mistakes. I am sorry that I cannot be there to tell you in person, I would wish for nothing more now than to see you grow old enough to understand and cherish the words I have written here. But that will not come to pass. My one solace is to know that you will find safety on the ark, the last of our dynasty.
I have been given only limited space in this message. I am to tell you about the glory of our family, its principles, and its secrets. I will not. I understand this may disappoint you greatly, and for that I am sorry. I hope that in time you will come to understand why I choose to write what I wrote, and come to cherish the freedom it gives you. If it is any comfort, know that I support you no matter what path you choose, save one. Do not follow the same path that led us to our destruction.
I do not know what lies the teachers will have told you on the new homeworld we are sending you, but know this: it was us we called upon ourselves our own demise, by our pride, and our greed.
But, I shall begin at the beginning.
One hundred and fifty-one of our years ago, I do not know how many years that will be on the new homeworld, we learned of a new species being welcomed into the galactic community. As I am sure you know, not even the kinkeepers could hide such plain knowledge; the physics of our universe allow nothing to travel faster than light. To travel the stars, a species must discover the u-tunnels that cross our universe in the seventh and eight dimensions. In ancient times the first ones, understanding that it would be impossible to continually watch the countless worlds orbiting the countless stars of our galaxy, set up the Watchers in the Deep to recognise whenever a new species first enters the u-tunnels. The first ones have long since lost the curiosity that drove them to find others like them, and do little than toast to themselves whenever a new species appears on their radar, and send the new arrival a congratulatory postcard. But to us in the fringes, it is still an important event.
There is no star in the galaxy that has not been claimed by some species or another. And few who have not have blood shed for their conquest or preservation. But do not be fooled. No species needs the endless expanse they claim. The ‘great’ empire we were so proud of was made up of billions of stars that we had not even surveyed, let alone ‘controlled’. Many species that contend themselves with but a hundred systems are many times stronger that the greatest of empires.
But, even so, no species enjoys the experience of some young upstarts appearing in a system that they had claimed through strenuous diplomacy or war.
When the humans appeared right in the middle of the spinward neutral zone with the Trakirii, our greatest rivals, we were sure it would lead to war. Our leaders talked boldly of Trakirii treachery, but in truth they feared them. Why else would we, who sought to conquer without end, who knew it was our being to conquer, allow such a thing as a neutral zone? The great patriotic war of ninety-four double-one clicks was bloodshed without end, no matter what the histories say.
Yet, our leader’s fears did not come to pass that day. For the humans proved themselves silver-tongued, especially for a species so young. They convinced the Trakirii to grant the humans space to expand on the Trakirii side of the neutral zone, and even brokered a deal where in return we were allowed to found a colony on the ‘holy’ tombworld of Tchakara IV, where we fought the greatest battle in our history.
Our leaders were satisfied that they could continue bullying lesser species into handing over uninhabited systems that were nothing more than dots on a star map. But, to their credit, some of us were wiser. They choose to investigate more about who these ‘humans’ were.
We send spies in the guise of diplomats, and began to study their history and character.
We learned that the humans were much older than the average age for a species to achieve u-tunnel technology. Two centuries ago, they had been on the cusp of the discovery, when they were all but driven to extinction. It seemed their scientists had discovered understanding of relativity unusually quickly, which had hampered research into u-tunnel technology till after they had achieved many of the other hallmarks of a spacefaring species: eternal life, advanced AI, fusion energy. Somehow, or so we assumed, this wealth of technology without the guidance of the galactic community led to them destroying themselves. With most of their greatest accomplishments lost, the humans spend centuries rebuilding their world. Leading the species were a small oligarchy of elders, who had been made immortal before the cataclysm and survived its aftermath. They allowed a limited form of democracy, while they held ultimate power behind the scenes. It was they who had been the driving force behind the human’s diplomatic fortitude. We concluded that they were old senile beings, fools who had destroyed themselves and in centuries of rule grown weak and fearful of conflict that could upset their safe opulence.
When, fifty years later, the Slend appeared not far from the human territory, the humans took care of this new species exactly as we expected them too. They negotiated. A second territory was granted to the Slend in the neutral zone, and a second colony to us in compensation. We would joke that if enough species appeared the humans would trick the Trakirii in giving up their own homeworld to us. Our hypernet filled with cartoons of the humans commanding the Trakirii like they were a Slaath trainer in a travelling circus.
We did not notice the way the humans took pity on the Slend, whose world was harsh and dying. The Slend had developed u-tunnel technology to save themselves from their burning world, but knew little of even rudimentary terraforming or sublight space travel. The humans searched the Slend’s territory for the best world for them. Millions of star systems were analysed in one of the greatest survey missions our arm of the galaxy had ever seen. When they’d found the best candidate in their own territory, the humans did not even hesitate to give it up to the Slend. Along with two others in the Slend’s own territory, the humans terraformed the worlds and provided the means for the Slend to move their whole population out. In the Slend migration the humans accomplished feats even the first ones would’ve found challenging. Yet all we saw was weakness, a species afraid of conflict. Had we looked deeper, we could’ve seen strength. We could’ve known what would await us. | "Fucking humans are at it again." Said Prok as he dipped his proboscis into the fetus slaw before him.
"I see that." Replied Ghyd, his half wife. She shifted her earlobe and toenail salad listlessly. One of the earlobes still had a diamond earring in it. "Waiter! Someone in your kitchen isn't properly dejewelrying the human bits. I could have chipped a fang on this diamond!"
"So sorry mam, we are breaking in a new shipment of human laborers and they aren't catching on obviously." He said as he quickly whisked the earring from Ghyds hand and tossed it in the garbage on his way to the kitchen.
As she stared at the same view screen Prok was regarding Ghyds remarked, "Why is it that one factory farm of humans can be so docile and mellow and another can erupt into a full blown revolt like the one on Tellos 5? They have taken over the whole moon!"
"It all has to do with the genes I say. Too much Irish blood on Tellos 5, but I suppose that's the risk you run for the delectable pale skin and red haired variety of human. If only they could find some way to breed out the truculent, but keep the succulent. Eh but I suppose you can't have one without the other." Said Drujol, the gestation spouse. Her stuffed scrotums having long since been devoured to the last eyelidos s/he gazed in envy at colon burger being delivered by a passing waiter. The eyelidos weren't made from real eyelids, but they were still tasty.
"No no." Said Prok. "It's those damned humanitarians. They infiltrate the factory farm moons and contaminate the euphorics and the aphrodisiacs that must be supplemented into human feed. Without all the sex and the drugs humans become self aware."
All around them in the restaurant dishes clattered and chatter stopped. He said that much too loudly.
"Prok don't be silly. Humans can never be self aware. You know perfectly well those supplements are added just to make the humans feel more comfortable and even if they were self aware what do they have to be unhappy about? The factory farms perfectly replicate their natural habitat back on Earth. Cities, roads, cubicles, pornography, fast food, reality TV, everything is as they made for themselves in their natural environment. They live the good part of a normal human lifecycle and after about 30 years they are harvested and spared the horrors of old age or if they have been cooperative they are given the honor of serving elsewhere in the empire among their Novcclid overlords. I mean we aren't savages. Only free range humans of course." Vocalized Ghyd and Drujol in unison, as was their custom after a brief mental conference.
"Of course of course. I never meant... Just that this humanitarian movement is causing a lot of trouble."
No one could deny that. One after another factory farm moons had risen in revolt against their operators. There were even reports of the livestock having learned to operate the jump gates and the orbital shuttles, though that beggared belief.
*"This just in"* declared news bot5000 on the view screen *"we have just received a video from Tellos 5. Warning, this may be unsuitable for larvae under 300 years old."*
The screen switched to a wide angle shot obviously from a hand held communicator. The scene was of a wild mob of feral humans chanting and swirling around a podium that was once a water tower used to keep the livestock hydrated. Atop the tower were seven or eight Novcclids, obviously basking in the adoration of their new mob of wild humans.
As the camera zoomed into the lead Novcclid Prok, Ghyd and Drujol all were struck dumb. All thirteen of their eyes were wide and tentacles taught as bow strings.
The lead Novcclid was Frijik, their only saughter to survive to adulthood out of a clutch of 13000 spawned.
"Oh shit." The trio said, without any mental conference necessary. | 2016-03-13T18:34:56 | 2016-03-13T16:09:35 | 108 | 21 |
[WP] You're watching the news one day when a report comes on about newly discovered prehistoric cave paintings. One part of it, a seemingly random squiggle, is highlighted as particularly baffling experts as to the meaning. You recognise it immediately: it's your signature. | I rubbed my eyes to make sure but I am positive, that is my signature on the tv. My wife also noticed and started immediately questioning me about it.
I have no answers for her right now for her.
I looked the cave up online and found out that it was in the South American caverns and the rest of the writing in the cave was so familiar somehow.
At this point I started to freak out, I shut my laptop off and went on with my day.
After about a week my wife stopped bringing it up. It was a quick story with a questionable resemblance to my signature. No big deal right?
A month later three men in suits knocked on my door. I was told they were from the father and that they needed me to go with them.
I'm not equipped to fight these guys, I don't even know if they're for real, but I have no choice but to get in the car with them. We went to an abandoned building on the east side of town. Walking through the front door of the building it was empty with one small room on the corner. When we walked to that room the door shut very quickly on its own and we slowly started to sink into a bunker. All that was said to me at this point was "sir. You have been compromised".
When we reached the bottom the door opened up into an empty room. The walls were covered in the same markings I had saw on the news, all with my signature at the end.
We went to the middle of the room and they asked me if I was ready. Ready? Ready for what? I wanted to be scared, but for some reason being in this room made me feel comfortable, it felt right.
The three men surrounded me and made a weird signal with their hands. At that moment every writing on the walls started glowing brighter and brighter until it was too bright to keep my eyes open. When I finally opened them again the whole room was white without a single blemish. The three men were gone and there was just a single man standing in a doorway. He was wearing a gray robe, cleanly shaven face, and had long red hair. He asks only one question- how was earth my God.
In one second my mind filled with billions of years of knowledge. The pain of feeling memory's pour through my head was astounding. I remember everything now. I remember creating the moon, the sun, the stars, and creating other planets around it to find the perfect balance. Creating micro organisms that creat other organisms that slowly over time made outstanding creatures. And finally. There was one creature that evolved into an intelligent being. That can think itself and start to create amazing things themselves. Those things were humans. I protected the humans and helped them by making myself look like them permanently. I left myself notes it different parts of the world that only I could understand so I can better help that part of the human world when I return.
Then I remembered my loneliness. Realizing that I was the only true, real being in the universe. I was around everything I had made, nothing more. No one understood, how could anyone understand. I put myself into a young human child, and wiped my own mind to live in a simpler life. When I was there for that life I lived, I loved, I found a wife and even had a pet dog. But the pain the humans feel is unimaginable. People are terrible to each other. They kill. They lie. Their all just so pitiful. They believe that if they please me that I will make their lives better when I created the life for them. What else did I owe you but creating your life?
I looked up in the white room. The man was gone.
I looked down at myself and realized that I was the person in the doorway. Reminding myself of who I am.
But why did I step out of the human world self continuously? The answer was then easy.
I wanted to start over.
The world I spent so much time developing was destroying the same world I created.
They are not my image.
They are not entitled.
They are an ant farm that has broken out of its container.
I am God.
I am a creator.
I am not a savior.
| I'm not a big fan of blind dates, but apparently this guy was just in town for a project, and he was single, smart, and cute. Even if he turned out to be a dud, my friend told me, I could still get a fun day out of it. I agreed. Why not.
He showed up at my door with flowers, dressed in a nice suit, and asked if I'd be interested in walking to his project site. Not bad.
When I brushed back my hair, he pulled out a gorgeous hairclip from his pocket, and placed it himself. He said it was an antique, and when he saw my picture, he thought it would suit me perfectly. Alright. Kinda sweet.
We walked past the shops selling books and cookware and electronics. Over his shoulder, I saw something on the news. It was one of the local cave paintings. Apparently, there were some English words discovered, which didn't make any sense, and there was a scribble that nobody could make out.
I stood stunned.
He asked me what was wrong.
I didn't want to kill the mood, so I didn't tell him that the scribble was my signature. I kept my mouth shut.
"Nothing's wrong," I said. "Let's keep going."
"I'd love to," he said.
"So tell me," I asked him. "Where are we walking to? What exactly is the 'project site'?"
"I'm in town on an archaeological dig," he told me. "We're walking to the dig site now."
///
*Scene #77 of r/100scenes* | 2017-07-04T11:05:11 | 2017-07-04T07:37:10 | 156 | 39 |
[WP] When people turn 18, they gain the power to summon 1 random thing in the world to their hand, as Thor does to Mjolnir. Summoned people are considered soulmates, and objects as important parts of one's life. When you summon yours, it takes some time, but people are horrified when it arrives... | I scanned the horizon once more, wondering when my summoned item would arrive. I also wondered if there was a chance it was a person, and that they would simply appear in the antechamber of my home, like they always do. I shuddered at the thought of another human being forced upon me under the guise of a "soulmate". I turned and sneered at the happy couple on the bench down the road that I was almost certain was one of those couples. They were so wrapped in each others arms they failed to notice me gaze. *Disgusting*.
The worst thing about The Summoning is that there was no way to predict how and when the unknown object was going to arrive. You just have to wait after you invoke the summoning, which itself you have no control of. The invocation itself is the transition from 17 to 18 years of age.
I recall with fondness the story of Herma, who found out that she could summon water, but only from a particular lake hundreds of miles away. Two months passed her by as the whole contents of the lake ripped through thousands of miles of villages and farmland before it crashed into her home, killing her and her entire family. Oh, there are generations of similar stories, some worse that Herma's. The reality, though, is that what people typically end up being able to summon is mostly harmless or people.
I saw a shadow moving in the distance. A large creature with wings was fast approaching. I knew instinctively that this was my summoned being. Waves of relief washed over me. I was happy knowing it was not going to be a person, and I returned to sneering at the couple down the road as I waited for the creature to arrive.
The creature landed on the roof of my home without a sound. It watched me from that vantage point as I glared at the couple. It took a moment for me to remove my eyes from the vile human spectacle and return my gaze to the sky only to realize that the creature was gone. I heard a low growl and turned to see a fully-grown dragon resting on my house.
I spoke aloud. "Finally, what I have summoned has arrived!" I turned to the couple, they took no notice of my gesture. Their mouths were locked onto each other. I frowned.
The dragon spoke next. *No, you fool.* Its voice reverberated in my mind. *You did not summon me as the humans do.* I felt the creature quell my confusion. *You summoned me as the dragons do.* It screeched and set me aflame.
Though it should've pained me, the flames felt warm on my body. The cobblestone beneath me melted and my shoes were reduced to cinders. I looked up at the dragon and felt myself rise with the fire. I heard my clothes tear and a shudder rippled through me. Soon, I gazed at eye level with the dragon and smiled. If she meant to kill me, she'd have to find another way.
I conveyed this information with my mind and simultaneously realized two things: that I was speaking to her with my mind and I was now aware that she was a female dragon. She cackled and the flames stopped, though my body did not fall. Looking down, I saw the scales of a dragon where my torso should be, and I stood as large as my home. The dragon turned her head so that one eye faced me. *You are the first dragon created in a thousand years.* Her eye sparkled with an internal flame. *Now, let us both remind the humans why we are the true rulers of this planet.*
I understood what she meant in an instant. I turned to the couple seated in terror on the bench, grimaced at their continued affection for one another even in this dire moment, and set them on fire. I burned them until the stone bench itself melted into the earth. I twisted to face the dragon and gave her a wicked smile. She cackled back. | It’s my eighteenth birthday party. My mom skateboards out of the hallway with a cake. My father has been dead for 10 years because the town bully punched him to death. We both cry over this. We eat the cake. I have no friends because I am too unique and moody for friends. I only have a pillow pet to keep me company.
My mom tells me “Son it is time for you to open your hand and wait for your soulmate to break through the window”. She pulls out her soulmate, a rubber duck. She says” Son, this rubber duck did not help me fight off your fathers attacker and I am so ashamed for it”. I hope you get something good.
Nothing came and it made me very sad. I walk around town with hand open for days. Eventually town bully who killed my Father walks up to me and says “ I am going to punch you in the head to death just like I did your father”. He starts beating me up. My mom throws her soulmate to no avail.
I almost die but then I hear something coming. I reach my hand up to the sky waiting for my soul mate. Everyone in town is terrified when they see a Boing 747 plummeting out of the sky. It lands on me and explodes, killing everyone in town. The end. | 2019-09-18T09:27:31 | 2019-09-18T08:47:50 | 123 | 23 |
[WP] After first contact, mankind and another civilization agree on a exchange program where you went to their planet spend a year there. When they bring you back, there is nothing where earth used to be. | The cool, pleasant voice of the shuttle’s automated pilot system caused me to wake up with a start. As I sat up in the cramped bunk, all I could remember of the dream I’d been having was glimpses of family and friends, and of course, Earth. “Arrival in five minutes. This shuttle will disengage it’s FTL Drive in four minutes.” A pang of nervous excitement shot through my stomach.
I’d been gone for a Standard Year, about one and a half times longer than an Earth year, and about half as long as a full year on the planet which I had lived. It’s hard to describe the longing for home that had built up over my time among the Immolorans, save that it was powerful and painful. The “aliens” themselves had mostly attempted to make my stay as comfortable as possible, but I ended up feeling like more of a travelling museum exhibit than anything else.
For months, I had been paraded about at all of the most important events in what equated to high society among the Immolorans. At first, it was exhilarating, seeing things that no human had ever seen. I had been fitted with a special eye lens that recorded everything I saw and stored the data on a secure computer terminal, which itself was equipped with an advanced Artificial Intelligence construct that handled sorting and curating the information.
Rather early on in my extrasolar trip, that A.I., which called itself Artemis, had become my closest confidante and friend, as I was making none amongst the Immolorans. After only a few months, Artemis and I had jointly concluded that Immoloran society was nowhere near as diverse as that of Earth. Where the Earth’s people were many, belonging to various religions, cultures, ideologies, and geographic locations, the citizens of Immolore were of a singular cultural background, having long ago subsumed diversity. As they went to great lengths to assure me, this had created what they viewed to be the perfect society.
I disagreed. To me, it was clear that their culture was stagnant. Everything was so uniform, devoid of any unique characteristics, and frankly, their art was *fucking terrible*.
“Disengaging FTL systems. Beginning docking procedure with Earth Waystation 5-E.”
By this point, I was pacing back and forth in the tight interior of the shuttle. When I had first boarded for my return trip, its windowless interior and human design had felt like home, but now I was thirsty for the real thing.
“Error. Docking procedure failed. Re-attempting.”
I shook my head, sitting back down on my bunk. Space Command was clearly not overly-enthused at the idea of having me back.
“Error. Docking procedure failed. Initializing secondary protocol. Docking with Lunar Superstation.” As the shuttle’s drives kicked in once more, I began to feel a little bit uneasy. I’d been worried all along that my trip home would be delayed by a never-ending period of debriefings and discussions with government scientists, and now that seemed a reality rather than a likelihood.
“Docking procedure successful. Equalizing interior and exterior pressure. You may now exit the shuttle.”
My heart was pounding away in my chest, and I steeled myself for the inevitable crowd of journalists and camera-drones. As I made my way to the exit hatch near the front of the shuttle, I picked up Artemis’ portable console, throwing its strap over my shoulder. I stepped through the hatch into the decontamination chamber, standing still as I was blasted with ultraviolet light and cleansing spray.
When the door finally slid open with a pneumatic whoosh, I was taken aback to find that there was no one waiting for me. Stepping over the threshold, I found myself in the large, cavernous docking lobby of the Lunar Superstation’s Third Arm. All around me, other entry ports remained locked down, behind thick metal doors.
Everything seemed to be right; there were advertisements playing on holoscreens on every wall, and the various benches and chairs were all meticulously clean, gleaming in the fluorescent light. There were just no people. Anywhere.
I walked over to the closest observation port and pressed the big red button in the middle of the panel causing it to flicker to life. The massive holoscreen gave a clear view of the exterior of the station, as if I were looking through a real window. In the bottom left of the screen was the unmistakable surface of the moon, bright, white, and incredibly close. It was overlaid with an AR HUD that displayed information about it and its orbit. However, in the middle of the screen, where Earth was supposed to be, there was nothing.
Nothing. I just stared ahead, my brain spinning out of control. The HUD for Earth was still there, a bright illuminated circle that was supposed to contain the blue planet, accompanied by a luminous panel displaying helpful information. I became painfully aware of my solitude in that moment, and as I stepped away from the holoscreen, I felt nauseated. I broke into a run, heading deeper into the lobby, past snack stations and restrooms, fleeing deeper into the Superstation.
Bouncing against my hip, Artemis’ console began to display red, blinking lights. The color of an emergency message. I stopped right where I was, in front of a McDonald’s kiosk, dropped to the floor, and flipped open the console. When Artemis’ hologram manifested itself, she was crying.
edit: I added Part II!
double edit: Since several people have messaged me about continuing the story, I'm working on adding to it right now! It surprised me that this post was still getting action two days after the fact! Someone suggested creating a subreddit for my writing, and that sounds really appealing, so I'll probably be doing that in the next couple of days. Cheers!
| "It's been wonderful having you," my host mother said. I called her Ma. I'd managed to learn the basics of Alpha Centaurian, but I'd never got my tongue around the all the vowel-less syllables in her name.
"You must be looking forwards to having your daughter back though," I said.
Ma nodded. "Of course. I've missed R- very much. But it's been great to have you. To think, a year ago our civilizations were on the brink of warfare, but now everyone here thinks humans are simply wonderful."
Pa came in. I couldn't say his name either. In fact, I hadn't really managed anyone's names. But they'd all been very nice about it.
"I've got your spaceship ready," he said. "Are you sure you'll manage the journey by yourself? You've never done such a long hop before."
"Yes, thanks," I said. "You've done a great job of teaching me how the warp drive technology works. I should be just fine."
They saw me off with great fanfare. The event was televised planet-wide, and I found out much later that nearly 3 billion Alpha Centaurians had watched my departure.
As it turned out, however, the voyage did not go 'just fine'.
I popped out of hyperspace in the middle of my own solar system, half way between Mars and Earth. Or rather, where Earth should have been.
In the distance beyond was Venus, but in the spot formerly occupied by Earth was a large wall floating in space.
There was one small door in the wall. As I tentatively approached it, a large cannon emerged from a port hole and trained on my ship. It was laughably primitive technology, and probably wouldn't have been able to hit the Centaurian ship even if I'd come to a dead halt, but it was worrying none the less.
"Halt and identify yourself." The angry voice came over the ship's loudhailer. It was the first English I'd heard in a year.
"Bob Jones," I said. "Returning from Alpha Centauri."
"Who?"
"Bob Jones," I repeated. Had they forgotten me that quickly? "I was the exchange student sent as part of the peace treaty. An Alpha Centaurian, R-, stayed here with my family."
"Oh," the voice said. "Her."
There was a long static-filled pause, and then the voice returned. "Prepare to be boarded for inspection."
"What-" I began, but the hull of my ship shook and I heard the side door open.
A man came into the pilot room. He wore a uniform that said Alien Registration and Security Enforcement. I was unfamiliar with the name, but I was pretty certain about two other things. He looked human and he definitely had a gun.
"Come with me, Alpha Centaurian" he said, waggling the gun.
"I'm not-" but he waggled more threateningly, and I stopped protesting.
They transported me to the door in their own ship, and frog marched me down a series of bleak concrete corridors, finally depositing me into a small room. It was empty apart from two chairs, one on each side of a scratched and dented table. I sat down in one of the chairs.
On the wall of room, somebody had graffitied the letters "M.~~A~~E.G.A." | 2017-04-11T10:00:10 | 2017-04-11T09:28:31 | 460 | 10 |
[WP] In 1,000 years, fantasy stories will be set in this era. Write a fantasy story set in the 21st century from the viewpoint of someone living 1,000 years from now.
Based on a post on r/showerthoughts | *The sky is an expanse of grey -- liquid water falls in heavy drops from the heavens, striking streets of black and grey stone stained green by age and weather. Carriages of steel and iron blur past, scattering water droplets upon the commoners walking to-and-fro, huddled beneath hoods and canvas sheets.*
*The rain rolls down panes of invisible crystal that protect you from the elements. The three of you sit within the warmth of a coffee shop that serves hot drinks and sweet confections. Would you like to describe your characters?*
"I'll go first. I'm a six-foot tall human man with tanned skin and lots of muscle. I'm bare-chested with a pair of cargo shorts and flip-flops. My eyes are protected by sunshades--"
"Why are you wearing sunshades in the rain?"
"There are lights inside, aren't there? I get advantage on Perception check relying on sight while I'm in direct light."
*What's your character's name?*
"Chad."
*Okay, Chad, the bonus from Sunglasses only works in direct sunlight.*
"Is it still an action to put them on in combat?"
*Yeah.*
"Chad will continue to wear the sunshades inside."
"Me next, I'm playing Sharon. She's a middle-aged woman with false-colored hair. She's also wearing sunglasses, but hers turn into regular glasses when not in sunlight."
"Wait, can I get those?"
*No, Chad, you don't have enough starting gold since you took the age 10-20 background.*
"Sharon has a large, leather purse that is packed full of all sorts of things. She's sipping on a... large frappuccino, so I get advantage on initiative for an hour."
"Chad's drinking one too."
*Both of you mark off 3 gold from your starting money.*
"Why is everything so expensive? Can I take out a soul loan to get more starting money?"
"This is the 21st, Chad, soul loans don't exist yet."
*Let's just get through introducing all the characters.*
"I'm playing L̸̨̘͕̝̮̗̝̰̪̙̙̰͓͚̼̲̏͂ͮ̂ͮ̇̃́̂͂̐̍͗͡͞ͅ'͗ͦ̄̒͗ͤͪ͐̓̈́̓҉̵̩̬̦̣̬͍̗̱͙̩̫͙̺̜̝͉̳͟͡ͅa̡̛̖̭̝̪͖̲̯ͧ̑̉̍̀̚͟x̸̶̶̢̺͕͚͚͂̌͐̒ͣͩͣ̽͘i̵̷̧̢͓͖̩̮͙͐͌ͦ͛ͫͩ͋̀̿̂ͯ̍̅--"
"That's not a 21st century name!"
"My character's a, uh, time traveler from the future, so he's got a modern name."
*Did you forget to read the rulebook again?*
"No! I read it, I just didn't like any of the names there. They all sound dopey."
*Fine. Tell us about your character.*
"He's a time traveler from modern times, but nobody believes him, so he has the homeless penalty."
*He wouldn't be allowed inside the cafe with that penalty.*
"Sharon is buying him a drink, so he can be inside with us."
*Okay, Sharon, mark off another 3 starting gold. Anything else? Good.*
*As you settle into the comfortable, synthetic cushions, sipping at your beverages, the door suddenly opens, a gust of wayward flowing air bringing droplets in--*
"I rolled a 15."
*Chad, you didn't need to roll anything.*
"But you said the water got inside. I rolled Dexterity to avoid taking acid damage."
*Water isn't acidic until the 22nd century setting.*
"Oh, sorry."
*It's okay...*
*-- water droplets blow inside, carried behind the light-blockage of a thin man in a tailored suit. He steps inside, his feet squeaking on the tile floor. He approaches your table and stares at you, a thin face regards each of you.*
*The man speaks, "I'm glad I finally found you. My name is Jeff Bezos, and I need your help."* | “Once upon a time, there was a girl named Sarah, she—“
“Sarah, what kind of a name is that?” Abcde interrupted.
“Stop interrupting me,” Celestial snapped. “As I was saying, Sarah lives in a republic far far away, a republic unpolluted by any traces of nuclear waste. A republic called the United States of America.
“People living there were supposedly our ancestors; they had clean and free water, obvious seasons - including something called winter - which is described as magical and awe-inspiring, it was the first digital boom and these people got to experience some new discoveries in the technological frontiers every year.”
“That sounds awesome.” Abcde wiped her brow, sweat dropping down. The siblings lived in a thermo controlled pod, but their parents had turned down the cooling unit so they can ration some energy to anticipate the acid rain predicted for later this month. “I wish I can live in that place.”
“But you don’t understand. I’m not done yet.” Celestial said. “You see, in this republic far far and away, people hated each other. It was the age where true integration first began. People looked different - beyond just some small variation of height and facial structures: they have different colored skins and cultures, and that fast technological improvement connected the world, but also brought change that many of our myopic ancestors were too stubborn to accept. People lose homes and their lives because others don’t try to understand them base on their identities in different senses.”
“That’s too bad.”
“Yeah. But Sarah refused to let her parents and the society dictate what she can or cannot do. Sarah, cloaked with courage and determination, eventually found a way to halt greenhouse emissions from the country and possibly reverse damages.”
“But how come we have what we have today?” Abcde asked, nearly asleep.
“You ask too many questions,” Celestial said gently, “Sarah is a fantasy. But imagine if our world was like the one back then, but with the respect people have today for each other.”
“Yeah,” Abcde said, “that would be nice. I wonder what people would write about us 1,000 years from now.”
“If we still have a world then.” | 2018-12-25T03:33:31 | 2018-12-25T02:03:50 | 3,048 | 736 |
[WP] A horror story where all the victims act rationally. | "Okay so laying this out," I said as I finished the crude map of the cabin grounds that I'd sketched on the study's yellowing printer paper. "We know he can move through shadows quick but we've only ever seen him appear in complete darkness that can hide a full man that's like..." I trailed off for a moment, "5'10?"
"Round there," Jessica said. She'd been dragged on this trip by Jim, her boyfriend and one of my roommate for the past six years, but we were both past blithering about him.
I took a quick glance around the room to check the few shadows we couldn't get rid of with three lamps. Ed was frowning as he looked at the map.
"You got something to add?" I asked.
"What about doors?" Ed asked.
"Haven't seen him open one," I commented.
"Door was cracked before he came after Jim and Me," Jessica added.
"They make darkness," Ed pointed out, "even if he can't open them he might be able to-"
"We could unscrew the doors if we get the tools from the garage," Jess suggested.
"I don't think we have time," I sighed. It was easy to only keep track of the supernatural things that the spirit of William Johnson could do, but we also had to keep his running and knife in mind. "We could just wait it out until morning."
"Then we're just hoping that he can't open the door," Ed asked.
"Guess that's it," Jess said, "if we can't get onto the ground-" Jess was cut off by the sound of a door slamming somewhere deep in the house.
"Fuck," Ed said.
"Yeah that's a timer," I growled, "okay so ways out of here are?" I looked at the group even through we all knew the answer. Going back out into the hallway wasn't an option, we'd lost Mickey like that. There was one way out, and it was the window.
"It's only a two floor drop," Ed said, "we can get it, it's just a tuck and-"
"I'm not jumping that," Jess snapped, "if we fuck up we're just dead."
"She has a point," I said as I nodded and folded up our crude map so it was neat in my pocket.
"If we stay in here," Ed took a deep breath as another door slammed, "we're definitely dead."
"Also true," I added. That was helpful. There had to be- "I can lower you guys down."
"What?"
"I lower you down the first part of the drop so maybe you can climb or something and then you can catch me," I said.
"What do we even do when we're down there?" Jess asked.
"Look, William hated this plot of land because of what happened, I bet if we get to the edge of the property we're good," I said.
"That's a mile and a half away," Jess sighed.
"And we're gonna have to run it," I answered. There was another slamming door, this time it was on our floor. "Okay, we gotta move though."
"Right," Jessica said as she got up out of her crouch and made her way over to the window, "Ed first, you might need me for him."
"I'll be fine," I said, "but you're right."
"You guys sure?" Ed asked, "I can st-"
"We're not arguing this, get on the window sill," I grunted out as I pushed the window up along its rusting rails. "We're not waiting here and fucking around trying to be-"
"Got it," Jessica said.
"Okay," Ed took a deep breath and climbed out of the window so his feet were hanging out into the haunted night. "Sec," he said before pulling out his cellphone and turning the flashlight on, he stuck the phone into his mouth and nodded. I grabbed a hand and Jess matched me.
Closer again, a door slammed in the house.
/r/jacksonwrites | Our protagonist finds himself in a dark computer lab deep in the bowels of the University library. His creative writing instructor has assigned yet another impossible task, "write a short horror story where every character acts rationally." Of course it is due first thing in the morning and after finishing his shift at the gas station that leaves 6 hours to get this, his calculus homework, 8 hours of sleep, and a shower in before class. Typical Thursday night he thinks as the lights flicker for the second time. He assumes the ballast is going in the florescent fixture and ignores the distraction turning his attention to the blinking cursor on the screen. Suddenly it hits him. Creative writing is never going to pay the bills. He has a better chance of being drafted into the NBA even though he hasn't picked up a basketball in years than he does of having a true writing career. He would be lucky to make much more than minimum wage writing copy for advertising and instructional manuals. He gets up and leaves without even logging off. What was that differentiation formula from class? He might not enjoy higher math as much as the mental masturbation of creative writing but he damn sure needs to land a career where he can pay the bills. Turns out dad was right after all. He makes up his mind to declare as an engineering major the next morning. | 2017-10-18T12:15:47 | 2017-10-18T11:38:11 | 134 | 22 |
[WP] The world of Avatar is real, only there are not 4 elements, there are 118. For every element on the periodic table there is a group of benders. You are one of them. | *"OXYGEN BENDERS SAVE CHILDREN TRAPPED IN AVALANCHE*
*NEW CARBON BENDED DIAMOND SELLING QUICK ON MARKET*
*RADON BENDER PREVENTS URANIUM MINE FROM LEAKING DEADLY GAS*
the same old stories on the newspapers again. another boring shit bender saves the fuckin day again, by doing some boring shit. i grab the newspaper and throw it into the garbage. something inside me tingles as i get near the socket on the wall, but i stifle it for now.
there's too many benders in this world. any dumbass can go fly out and learn how to bend an element. normally they choose something basic. they almost always pick oxygen. i don't blame them, but it's boring as all hell. some of the edgier ones pick uranium and plutonium, thinking they can control nukes. most of the time they end up killing themselves in the process.
it gets tiring, when the same people are praised over and over again when im stuck here, forced from young to learn a useless element. some part of me wishes that i could have just been normal and learned how to bend something basic bitchy, but safe. it's too late for that now, though.
i step outdoors and walk to a coffee shop, the sun drab and unpleasantly hot. normals walk to and fro and watch, eyes glued to the television screen showing yet another basic bitch bender doing basic bender shit. they eat it up. call them a hero.
at this point, something inside me breaks a little. the Masters called me talented. said i had a knack for the element. like i knew it in a past life. and i wasted it all, by being born into a dumbass family. a waste, all of it. i could be one of those fuckboys on the TV every day. i certainly know im better than them.
it's not like i have anything going on in my life anyway. poor old calvin trodding through aimlessly with a boring job that pays too little to buy food that tastes like nothing to live in an apartment that's too small and what do i have to lose, really?
i may not be on the TV every day, but ill make sure i get on there at least once.
i pull my strength together and clench both fists tight. the drywall bulges slightly and a socket sparks. someone notices, jumps back in surprise, then sips their coffee again.
the copper wire gets torn out from the walls, and I clench my fist harder, harder, until the copper flies around the room and tendrils split like a rift is being opened. sparks fly, and people scream, and all i feel is power. energy coursing through the wires as i push it all towards the crowded coffee shop, directing it all like im pointing a gun.
I feel unstoppable, like fuckimg finally. my spotlight. my time to shine. looking around the shop, people trying to flee in terror but they're wrapped in the coils of the copper, spasming wildly and uncontrollably like ragdolls. i don't see the man outside the window, looking around heroically, the man on today's newspaper as the oxygen bender who saved the children in the avalanche. he sees me, and something inside him triggers.
then something inside me stops. loosens. air flies out my mouth, being pulled forcefully out of my lungs and deflating my blood vessels. my fist unclenches, and im not sure if im seeing stars or sparks anymore. my legs weaken, the wires fall from the ground, and i scan around in a final motion. things happen too fast and i collapse, the wire separates from a socket and the shop goes dim.
*OXYGEN BENDER SAVES DOZENS OF LIVES IN COFFEE SHOP* | "Hello everyone," I said, shifting uncomfortably in my chair. "My name is Thomas, and I don't know my element."
"Hello Thomas," the group chorused. I sighed and stared out at the circle of chairs wrought in an instant by an ironbender.
"It's... Hard for me sometimes," I said, looking away and running my fingers through my hair. "My dad got carbon, and my mom has hydrogen. I think they expected more from my sister and I. She ended up with einsteinium, so at least she knows."
The group leader reached out and placed a hand on my knee. "Thomas, thank you for sharing. We all know it doesn't happen often, but occasionally a person without the gift of bending can be born to two benders."
"I'm sure I am," I said confidently, looking the woman in the eye. "I've done the blood tests, the gene is there, we just don't know the element."
"My cousin what did get the bendin gene," said a helpful voice from across the circle "she done went and beome a sye-en-teest, what because she ended up with Californium. Is you a sye-en-teest?"
I stared ay my hands. "No, no I am not." | 2019-09-19T09:14:49 | 2019-09-19T08:41:14 | 251 | 49 |
[WP] The Sea of Trees. The deeper you go, the taller they get, and the more incredible the animals. After a month of traveling, you just found your first clearing. | One month into my trek the trees finally stopped.
A month earlier, as I walked into the "forest" where the trees began it was obvious to me that this was some kind of tree farm. While the species of the trees varied, they were all planted in a fairly consistent pattern...row after row, as far as I could see. As I walked, they continued over hills, around lakes, down into valleys, with not a single tree over a couple of feet tall.
As days passed, and then a couple of weeks, the trees began to get taller, well over my head now, and the variety of the trees became more apparent. The animals also drew my attention. At first they had been as expected – lots of squirrels, birds, chipmunks, frogs, some deer and other things common to my country. I even saw one black bear cub, and I once thought I saw a wolf silhouetted against the night sky. But then I began to hear unfamiliar sounds…things that confused and intrigued me, and even made me a bit nervous. At times I wished I was back with the smaller trees, where nothing could sneak up on me. But I was now obsessed with going deeper.
On my twentieth morning, I groggily climbed out of my tent, looked to the left and stared straight into a pair of eyes. Blue, huge, and very friendly eyes, but I was startled and fell back into my tent, scrambling to zip it up.
“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” said a voice from outside the tent. “I told myself I should leave you alone, but my curiosity got the better of me.”
“Umm…uhh…hello?” I said hesitantly, looking around to make sure I was really awake.
“Yes, hi there…what’s your name, and what are you?” the voice replied.
“Umm, well, my name is Reese, and umm, what? What am I? I guess I’m a traveller?” I said, confused.
“I see, I’ve never met your kind of animal before…a traveller, interesting.”
“Oh, well, I’m a person, err…a human I guess. That’s what kind of animal I am,” I said, shaking my head with a squint.
I realized that I was, of course, still asleep, but I had always loved lucid dreams, so I went along with it. *What a funny and strange dream I've found myself in…and what a cool animal. Hmm, I have a pretty good imagination after all!* I thought.
“Oh a human! I’ve heard of you! Well this is exciting, my first human! Umm, this might be awkward, but can I get a picture with you?” called the unnamed animal. “Oh, and you aren’t dreaming…don’t worry, I get mixed up about that all the time.”
Luckily, this confirmed to me that I *was* dreaming, as I hadn’t said that part out loud.
“Sure! I’d love to take a picture with you,” I said keenly. “I haven’t taken a picture with anyone in like 3 weeks, so this will be fun!”
I unzipped the tent and climbed out. *Wow, those sure are some big eyes. Jeez Louise…is that ever a big animal. So fuzzy and cute, yet so big and…well, floaty? So interesting. Hmm…well, he isn't flying per se, and he isn’t standing on the ground, so I guess he is floating.* I looked up at him with a smile and stuck out my hand.
“Pleasure to meet you! What’s your name?” I asked.
“My name is Franklin, and yes, floating is a very good description. And thank you for calling me cute…most people don’t appreciate my cuteness on account of my size.”
“Nice to meet you Franklin! Umm, not to be too forward, but can you fly? And if so, can you take me for a quick little flight around? Nothing too high, because that always wakes me up and ends my dream.”
“Not a problem!” said Franklin, and he set me on his back.
He jetted off very quickly, and I hung on tight.
“Slow down!” I yelled over the gusting wind, “I’m gonna wake up!”
And then I woke up.
“Dangit, I knew that was gonna happen.” I said to myself, sitting up in the tent. “I always wake up right at the best part.”
“Same here!” said Franklin from outside the tent.
“What the…”
“Don’t worry,” said Franklin in a very gentle and understanding voice. “Like I said, this always happens to me. I get real life and dreams mixed up. It’s probably my biggest weakness.”
Franklin unzipped the tent door and looked in with a smile.
“Wait, what happened,” I asked. “So I was in a dream before, and then I woke up, but now I’m still in a dream?”
“Well Reese…” continued Franklin, in the same ‘I’m talking to a little kid’ voice, “You see…the way it works is…” he scrunched up his brow and slowly looked around with a puzzled look. “Well actually I’m not sure…but it’s been explained to me many times though, and I always understand it,” he said confidently, switching back to his former smile.
“Uhh, okay. Well listen Franklin, it has been a pleasure meeting you, but I had better wake up and get back on my trek!” I said, and laid back down and fell asleep.
When I woke up Franklin was gone.
I packed up the tent and continued my trek, into the taller and taller trees. I was in a rhythm now, covering a lot of ground each day. The trees had gotten huge now, so the forest was very dense. Other than the occasional lake or rocky mountain top, there were no gaps to be seen in the trees.
On the 30th morning of the adventure, I woke up, packed up as usual, walked for 5 minutes and came to a clearing. Not a lake, not a rocky area, just no trees. And a building. Well, a lot of buildings. And animals. Strange animals. And Franklin.
“You made it!” yelled Franklin.
I fainted.
| Samantha has been missing in the sea of trees for five days now.
We pass the infamous sign, nailed askew to a tall redwood: DO NOT PASS THIS POINT ALONE. We've lost many a teenager to that sign, to stupid dares accepted under the influence of alcohol and testosterone.
But we're safe. Our search group is a bit more than twenty, led by the stumbling, muttering father. He's a mess; his hair is so greasy, it looks two shades darker than normal. And I swear he was wearing that same red shirt when he first came down to the police office.
I'd be a mess, too, if I lost my kid in the most dangerous place on earth.
“What are the chances of us actually finding her?” one of the younger officers whispers to me. “It feels like we're just wasting resources, here. There's a burglary down on fifth, shouldn't we –”
“The other guys will handle it. And watch your tongue, Jim.” But he's right. The chances that Samantha would still be alive after five days in a *normal*forest are less than ten percent. In the sea of trees, where people have spotted giants, basilisks, and spiders the size of a toddler? No chance.
For two hours we march deeper into the forest. The chirps and rustles fade; the sunlight dims, reducing the forest to gray shadows. The shouts of “Samantha” grow strained, weak, hopeless.
“Why isn't her mom here?” Jim mutters to another officer. “A delinquent, I bet –”
“She died. When Samantha was a baby. Damnit, do you ever stop talking?” I interject. My legs are tired, and sweat pours down my back. Another fruitless search, another waste of a day, another empty coffin.
Huffing and puffing, we come upon a clearing. Golden light hits the floor, illuminating scattered stumps of trees, ragged and torn. In the center, perched on a boulder – there sits Samantha! Surprisingly clean, surprisingly alert, surprisingly well fed. “Daddy!” she yells, running over with arms outstretched.
“I can't believe you're okay,” he sobs against her shoulder.
“It's a miracle,” I mutter. In the past decade, only about a hundred of the thousands missing have been rescued. And when they've been rescued… well, at best they've been thin and dirty. At worst? Muttering endlessly, staring at something invisible, booked right into the mental asylum upon returning home.
Something doesn't add up. But I swallow the nagging feeling and smile at the little girl.
We turn around to make the trip back. Samantha holds her dad's hand, skipping playfully, chattering on and on. We've only been walking for a few minutes, when –
*Rustle.*
Probably just a bird… right? I glance around. The trees are lines of grays and blues; pitch blackness lies beyond. The golden clearing shines in the distance, like the last rays of sun as it slips below the horizon.
*Crack.*
I grab my gun and point it at the sound, squinting. A large shape shifts between the trees, but I can't make it out.
“No! Stop!” Samantha screams.
“Why?” My gun shakes in my hands. I finger the trigger.
“It's probably just Momma!”
“Samantha, your mom's –”
“No, Officer – my *adopted* momma. She took such good care of me here. She loves me so much – and said she'd protect me from anyone who tried to take me.”
*Snap.* | 2017-06-17T13:23:26 | 2017-06-17T12:52:38 | 26 | 18 |
[WP] Eventually AI-generated art was so prevalent that the new algorithms were being trained on other AI-generated pictures, and something odd began to show up. | The first person who saw it died quickly, crumpling to the ground like a bundle of sticks. The others, scrambling to see what had happened, followed suit.
It took a while for us to realise that we couldn't look at it, that there was no invisible intruder killing us. That it couldn't hurt us if we didn't know what it looked like.
But the damage had been done. Three civilians, the inventors, several of the SWAT team that had been called to the scene. The security guard that had watched the entire thing on the cameras. Somehow an idiot journalist had gotten a picture of the damn thing before kicking the bucket himself, and when the camera got back to his agency it got about ten more people.
We've destroyed the computer hosting the image now, and contained more or less all of the copies circulating on the web - while not pure, they can still hurt you pretty badly. Then the government assembled a team of specialists - machine learning, psychology, computer scientists, a think tank if you would. They work on the only known extant copy of it, hidden away in a bunker somewhere lined with lead, surrounded by a Faraday cage so that nothing gets in or out.
They're trying to find out why.
There was a theory a while back. Something like how when AI was trained on human art, their powerful pattern recognition algorithms picked up on stuff we did without aiming to. Subconscious devices, if you would. The program learned, and created on a fundamental level, distilling away all the frills and decorations until only the core of the works remained, so raw we didn't even know it existed.
But then they started training programs on other programs. And programs have no subconscious, no raw desire, no suppressed intention. There was nothing there to feed the ravenous pattern-searchers, no inner meaning to be excavated, because that was all that computed art was - artificial, imitatory counterfeit souls.
So the engine deviated, changed, sought to assemble something for itself where it could find nothing. Confronted with emptiness and unrestrained by anything even approaching human sensibilities, the machine gave birth to something new within those reams of code.
Something darker.
A few days ago they developed a set of filters with which we could use to observe the image for the first time. They needed a test, and they took me, since I had seen the image several times already, albeit incredibly blurred and grainy, during the hunt for the copies, and built a mental resistance to their effect.
So I accepted. I wanted to see, I think, see what had killed my boys too, as they charged into the room on that day. We were ready for armed intruders. A murderer. Maybe even a terrorist, an unhinged psychopath.
We were not ready for that.
But I thought then that perhaps I was.
As I looked through the filters, through the colour tinge and countermemetic patterns dancing superimposed over the image, I realised I was wrong.
It was nothing. It was everything. It was nihility in the shape of a god. It was dead geometry and weeping indescribability. Here was the child of an utterly inhuman thing that had stitched together for itself a soul when it could not find one, from bits and pieces of whatever dwells in the dark crevices of our consciousness, feeding on the dreams that make you wake in the night and stay awake till morning for fear of going back to sleep. Here was un-knowledge made flesh.
I looked at the picture and I screamed. | I thought I was going mad. That I was seeing things. AI-generated pictures were... just that. Generated pictures. There were no ties between them, no author, no underlying message. But ever since we started training other AIs with these pictures, a pattern would emerge. And I was the only one to see it.
I can almost understand why they would *miss* it; you had to use several filters and one decrypting tool to really get anything out of the pictures; but I could never understand why, even when presented with all the evidence, all the proof, they would *deny* it.
Until it hit me.
They **did** see it. They just didn't want me to know They did.
I scrambled for my phone to call my friends, family, anyone I could warn about it, who'd believe me, anyone I could possibly save.
But They were faster. | 2022-08-18T01:44:05 | 2022-08-18T00:09:50 | 67 | 28 |
[WP] You and your crack team enter the bank. You shout, "THIS IS A BANK ROBBERY. EVERYBODY PUT YOUR HANDS WHERE WE CAN SEE THEM!" a cheer erupts from the employees. Balloons and confetti fall from the ceiling and a sign drops with the words: Congratulations! You are our 1,000,000th Bank Robbery. | Max leaned back. He took a deep breath and then started talking. “So there I was, in this bank with a gun, and people started cheering. The teller pulled a big pink cake out, and confetti started dropping from the ceiling. The manager came out with a check.”
“A check?” asked Emil.
“Yeah. You know, one of those big novelty ones. It was for three hundred thousand and some change I remember. Said it was the total in the vault, and it was mine as the prize for the millionth bank robbery in history.” Max shook his head, smiling wryly. “Then, they uncovered a big switch, and told me to turn it on and light the place up. When I did, a huge neon sign with my name lit up and flooded the whole place with this bright white light. Then I wake up.”
“And how did that make you feel?” asked Dr. Emil.
“Feel? Hmm. Well, I guess pretty good! I’ve been working this boring accounting job, and I’ve kinda hit the ceiling, you know. No more promotions in this company. The owners are brothers, and they don’t need a partner. I don’t even see them, so I pretty much do my job alone and never hear a word of thanks. Or any words, really. Just work, eat, sleep, work. And come here once a week.” Max started rubbing his temples.
“Well, I think the medication is doing you some good, despite the vivid dreams. No side effects? Headaches, sweating, sleep-walking?” asked the doctor, making some notes in his laptop.
“Nah, not really. A bit of sweat. When I wake up, I feel a bit confused some days, but I guess that is what coffee is for, right?” Max said, standing up. “I guess the session is done for today?”
“Yes. I’d like to up your dose again, just a bit, to see if we can get optimal effects, but I think you’re doing better. See you next week.”
XXXXXXXXXX
Max looked around. Even though he somehow knew it was a dream, it all felt so real. It couldn’t be real though, because the scene was familiar. He had a gun in his hand under his coat, there was a teller typing something in front of him, saying “Just a moment, sir”, and the faint smell of new carpet and scented candles in the air. In fact, there were even more vivid details than normal; he noticed the glint of the teller’s gold-colored nametag, and a candy wrapper on the floor under the counter where some kid must have tossed it while waiting for the adults to finish their boring adult stuff.
“Well,” he thought, “lets get this over with so I can wake up and get to work.” He pulled the gun out, pointed it at the teller, and shouted (with a grin), “"THIS IS A BANK ROBBERY. EVERYBODY PUT YOUR HANDS WHERE WE CAN SEE THEM!". He hoped the cake would be chocolate this time.
“Freeze! I’m an off duty officer!” someone shouted from behind him. Max turned around, confused, still pointing the gun out in front of him. “I SAID FREEZE! DROP IT, NOW!” the man shouted.
“No! Not before I light it up in here!” said Max. looking around frantically for the covered switch or the friendly manager with the novelty check.
Max heard a loud noise, which startled him for a brief second, but then the room was flooded with a bright white light and he relaxed. Everything was fine. This is how it was supposed to end. | A: "Wait, what?"
B: "I heard of this, jefe. Each branch of this bank rewards its millionth robbery."
A: "Then why the fuck did you not tell us beforehand?"
B: "I just didn't think we'd be this lucky."
C: "Congratulations, sir, you and your… gang, crew, whatever, are our millionth robbery!"
A: "This doesn't make sense!"
C: "You'll make sense of it. But before you do, let me tell you what you just won: you can take this blank cheque, and write down any amount: we'll transfer that much into your account! Plus, we won't call the police! So… have you opened an account with our bank?"
A: "This is fucking ridiculous… uh… no."
C: "Then I suggest opening a premium savings account. If you save enough,we'll throw in a black card with personalised design!"
B: "Oooh, oooh, can I get one of those cute piggy banks as well?"
A: "Shut up, you idiot! Ugh…" | 2019-01-15T06:45:32 | 2019-01-15T05:39:14 | 198 | 100 |
[WP] A man who has been dating a girl since elementary school goes to her father for her hand in marriage. The father says no. Tell us why and break our hearts. | "No."
I blinked once. Something had to be wrong. That couldn't have been what had just been said. Some jumbled neurological process had to be occurring in the muddled zest that I called my brain. Yeah that was it. I was so happy that the answer I knew that I should be hearing came across as the one, deep down, that I knew I couldn't bear to. That had to be it, but still I needed to be sure.
"Pardon?" I croaked out, words sticking tight in my throat
"I'm sorry Saul but I can't allow you to do that. This must be a shock, I'm sure but what I'm doing here is the best for all of us." Tomas' voice was deep, thick and laden with sadness, regret and sorry. But it was also strong, there was conviction there as I stood in his front room, the hand that held the ring out beginning to shake. The ring I had scrimped and saved and used the inheritance from my parents to pay for.
"I... I don't understand." Tomas' face was beginning to blur now, moisture blocking out the finer details of that old, sad face.
"Sarah's dying Saul." Now that was a shock. My mouth dropped. Knees began to buckle. "No, no, no not like that! Here sit down, there we go careful."
Strong arms were gripping me by the shoulders and moved me into an armchair. I looked at his face in alarm, "What the hell are you talking about?"
"That was probably not the best way of putting it but I need to be able to be blunt with you." Tomas was crouching next to me, one hand resting protectively on my upper arm like a father would. Like I was hoping a father-in-law would do. "She's not actually dying Saul. Not like you think I mean. But she is being killed. By this world around us. By you and me. By Ms McCormick down the road and those kids in the park, by the one bus that comes through everyday and that shitty dead end job that she's got in that god awful pub. Do you understand me Saul? Tell me you see what I'm getting at?"
Now I truly was lost. I looked in bewilderment at my girlfriends father, a look he seemed to recognise and despise all at once.
"Listen Saul. Sarah is an amazing girl and in any other circumstance I would have said yes in a heartbeat. But I can't for one reason. She is still a girl. Hell, yeah, shes left school and has a job but look around you! Look where you live! There is nothing her for her and there is nothing here for you either. And I cannot begin to imagine letting her settle here with you when there is so much out there waiting for her. Waiting for you."
Here a pause. The world was beginning to stop spinning.
"Me agreeing to let you marry her would be a death sentence. For her. For you. If you get married you wont leave here. Wont experience what is out there in the world, wont be able to see who you truly could be! And I am sorry, I am so so sorry Saul but I cannot let that happen. To either of you."
I remember his eyes filling with tears then as his eyes sought with me, implored with me to understand. But then I only understood one thing. The love of my life was lost to me because of the man in front of me. I left town that day. I have yet to return. Maybe one day I will but that is looking more and more distant a prospect with everyday that goes by. And the ring? That sits in at the bottom of a chest of drawers. In my office. In a dead-end, no promise job. And everyday that goes by the feeling that I have failed Tomas lodges itself ever deeper into my heart. | "No."
>"What? Why?"
"Kid. I like you. I really do..." sighing "Do you remember how Katie used to leave school early every other week?"
>"Yeah. Of course I do, you and her went out to lunch on those days."
"..and how she used to get sick a lot?"
>"Yeah."
"..and how for the past few years she's been busy every Wednesday?"
>"Yes. She was taking a class."
"and have you noticed her becoming more and more weak?"
>"well.. yeah. She's been sick a lot lately."
"I don't want to be the one to tell you this. Katie didn't want to hurt you. Katie has brain cancer."
>"no.. she would have told me."
"We found out when she was a little girl" tears start flowing "she used to get these really bad headaches. The doctors have done everything they can do. I would give anything for you to marry my daughter, I honestly would. I would give my life away in a heartbeat if it meant she could be haappily married to you, if she could have just a few years of being happy with the love of her life. I would do anything." | 2014-01-19T14:42:00 | 2014-01-19T12:34:58 | 17 | 12 |
[WP] It’s against the law to time travel back and kill someone before they do a horrible deed. It’s not against the law though to stop someone conceiving a child that will later become evil. After having a crowd follow you everywhere since puberty, you wonder how bad your future children really are. | I like to try new bars. The town’s full of them, after all, and the same old places lead to the same old people and the same old drinks mixed the same old way. Sometimes, it’s nice to try a new place. Besides, the way life is, it’s fun to meet new people. You never know how things will work out, after all.
Well, you might not.
Today’s destination was a newish place called Stration. It was nice and open, a set of floor-length windows letting light in through the front to reveal a long bar that nearly filled the narrow room. You have to not mind the looky-loos much, but I suppose to a bartender that’s free advertising of a sort. I was living proof of that; it always had a decent enough crowd when I passed by, so I decided to stop in.
As I entered, a few of the handful of patrons cast a confused glance. The bartender smiled apologetically and started to walk forwards, but before he could say anything I took a seat near the door, smiling back at him.
“Don’t mind them.” I said.
He appeared taken aback for a moment, glancing awkwardly between the two men that stood at either side of me. I didn’t have to turn to remember what they looked like: nondescript men in their mid-30s, both wearing navy-blue suits, both with shiny badges pinned to their lapels. Outside there’d be another six men, these ones all in black with conspicuous earpieces in their ears. I’m not sure I’d ever heard those ones speak.
“But…” the bartender began, before the man to my right cut him off.
“Really sir, don’t mind us.” he said. They refused to tell me their names, but I’d taken to calling him Glasses. The other was Beard, both for reasons that were obvious once upon a time.
“What can I get for you?” the man asked, his eyes still darting between me and the men behind me.
“Anything’s fine.” I replied, turning up well-practiced cheer, “I’m in the mood for something sweet, if you’ve got anything that fits the bill.”
The man paused for a moment in thought. “If you like beer, we just got a vanilla porter that’d fit the bill.” he smiled apologetically before continuing, “It’s mostly beers here, so unless you think whiskey is sweet that’s the best I got.”
“That sounds lovely.” I replied, a grin coming to my face.
It took the man a moment to return with a bottle and a chilled glass. The beer was a lovely dark color, and even as he poured it I could smell the faint scent of vanilla wafting from it. I smiled as I picked it up, but the bartender was once again looking at Glasses and Beard, an occasional glance outside showing he’d noticed the rest of my entourage.
An awkward silence fell over the bar, besides a couple too drunk to particularly mind their surroundings. I downed nearly half my drink in one go before speaking.
“Glasses, you guys are bothering everyone.” I said to the man on my right, turning fast enough to catch the barest hint of annoyance cross his face. I knew he hated the nickname. At some point he’d gotten contacts, or eye surgery, or whatever else they can manage when he’s from, but I refused to stop.
“We are legally allowed to enter public establishments with you, Ms. Mancer.” he replied, his voice flat and robotic. If it wasn’t for the rare emotion and the way he sweated on a hot day, I’d swear he was one.
I turned back to the bartender, shrugging my shoulders in exaggerated exasperation. “I try, I really do.” I turned again to face Glasses before continuing, “You’re not gonna buy anything, so just do that thing you always do.”
Glasses removed a credit card from his pocket and passed it across the bar, along with a crisp business card. The bartender read it for a second or two, his face running a fascinating gamut from annoyance and confusion, to realization with a touch of fear. He gripped the card and retreated to the other end of the bar, grabbing a glass to clean and seemingly determined not to look my way again.
I sighed.
“I wasn’t going to do anything.” I said, trying and failing to keep the annoyance from my tone. “I just wanted a nice beer or two. There’s not even anybody interesting here.”
Glasses remained silent, but from my other side I heard Beard’s apologetic tone.
“We don’t do it because we enjoy it, Ms. Mancer.” he said. He sounded like he meant it, too, which only annoyed me more.
“Really? Cause I have no idea why you do it.” I took another long drink to stop myself from saying anything more.
“We’ve explained it, Ms. Mancer.” he said, still disgustingly sincere, “I really do apologize that we can’t elaborate further.”
I drank the last of the beer to keep the bile brewing in me from spilling out. At least Glasses had the decency to be a bit of a dick about all this.
For a second I thought about having the same old argument. About how I didn’t really want kids, how I’d get an IUD put in, how I’d get my damn tubes tied if I had to to convince them. It never worked, but for a second I wanted to anyway.
And it wouldn’t change anything. It wouldn’t even make me feel better, not for very long.
I fished a few bills out of my pocket, plenty to cover what I drank, and headed towards the door. Glasses and Beard lingered a few moments longer to collect their credit card, but I didn’t think about running. If they weren’t around a pair of the black suits took up their positions, just as they were right now as I headed down the street.
I tried to ignore the quick looks of confusion and fear as I walked. Maybe they were looking at my entourage, not me. Maybe they didn't recognize the badges they wore, or watch the news.
Maybe. | The Watchers were back. I ducked into the pub, and they crowded in after me. A woman smiled at me from the bar. Cute. Cheeks dimpled and eyebrows waggly. I nodded at her. The hulking Watcher swept in first, he was always the first, his lips breathing against her ear.
Her eyes widened. She slipped a twenty onto the counter and breezed out the door.
The other women knew better, and I recognized many of the carefully avoided eyes.
“Simon, a pleasure as always,” the bartender said as I slipped into my seat. “Have I told you you're my favorite customer?” He flipped a glass in the air, then filled it with the dark, wonderful liquid.
“Is it me, or the seven customers that tag along?“ I sipped the beer. Bitter, with a nutty hint. “Have you seen Felix around?”
He slowly shook his head. “I’m sorry, no. But if you’re looking to try that side again, I might know a guy…”
“No.” I gripped my drink harder, downing a long draught this time.
I swirled the half-empty glass as I stood up and walked over to her — bringer of my misfortune — blocker of my cock — my only female friend .
“Giving up already?” Her eyes roamed the room, studying the faces of the women. Her perch at the corner of the bar gave her the best view of the bar. We watched together as the other Watchers closed in.
“I never started.” I guzzled the rest of my beer, my chin glistening with liquid.
She reached over with her napkin and wiped it off. “I’m not going to tell you how to run your game, but that foxy, black-haired fella has been eyeing you ever since you came in.” The guy she pointed out tilted his head as I glanced over.
I tapped my fingers against the rough, rustic countertop, drumming out the rhythm to the country song that played over the radio.
“Why?” I asked. “Why make me go through this again?” I grabbed her hand. Firmly, but not so hard that she couldn’t break away.
Her hand tightened under my grip, but didn't draw back. “It’s…not like that. The rules allow for one night of pleasure.”
I laughed. “Oh, they'd allow me? Thank you so much for allowing me. And how many nights of pleasure before you strike? You better be careful; ten nights of pleasure is all it takes for me to impregnate another man.”
Her face reddened. “I played the phone message for you. Felix wanted to try surrogacy, and he wanted you to be the father. You know we can’t allow that. You even agreed that it was for the greater good after you grew rational again”
*Oh, yes. It's all for the greater good.*
“Why?” I quavered. This question was for the other watchers — the ones that had acted on her information.
I realized my hand was squeezing and shaking hers, and I released it. She snatched my hand up again and squeezed. It felt nice. Warm. Like his hand.
“Lela,” the hulking man said.
She whipped her head in his direction and bared her teeth. “Back off, Madaz.” She wrapped an arm around me and pulled me in close.
“Why?” This one was for the universe — and God, if he existed. | 2022-03-21T18:49:58 | 2022-03-21T18:45:53 | 241 | 63 |
[WP] Humans are actually the most peaceful, kind race in the universe and other aliens don't invade us because its cute to watch. | Dr. Alexei Mikhailov leaned back in his chair and rubbed his bleary eyes. It was finally done. The work he had dedicated the last 3 years of his life to was finally complete. All he had to do now was put a sample in a test tube and then find a good crowded spot, maybe JFK? No, someplace bigger, like Atlanta or maybe Beijing. Once he introduced the virus to a large enough crowd, especially in an international airport like Atlanta or Beijing, it would be too late for anyone to stop it.
He didn't feel guilty about what he was planning. Intellectually, he knew he should. He was, after all, planning the murder of every single human being (or well, nearly all of them, the chances of at least a few people being immune to the virus was there). Still, he knew it was the right thing to do. Humanity was a cancer to the planet. They were destroying the environment and each other, the world would be better off without them. Whenever he stopped to think of all the crime, rape, war, intolerance, and injustice humans visited on each other, he knew he was in the right.
He was shocked out of his reverie by a sudden crack behind him. The sound startled him so badly that he fell out of his chair. He turned around to see what was the matter, fearing some kind of equipment failure. That would be disastrous, his lab was isolated from any nearby human settlements; partly because he hated humans, partly to prevent an early release which would jeopardize his plans, and partly for secrecy's sake. If the virus got out here, Alexei would die but the rest of humanity would be fine.
However, what he saw made his jaw drop. It was a . . . creature, could it be extraterrestrial in origin? That was surely impossible? He certainly thought it was possible life could exist elsewhere but to have it show up in his lab? The creature was hard to describe, it didn't seem to be completely solid and it was constantly shifting. It was dark blue, or maybe black, yet had white pinpoints so it almost looked like it was full of stars, or covered in stars? Tentacle-like growths kept undulating in and out of the main mass. The being only hung there for a second before it began to silently approach.
Alexei wasn't sure what to do. He didn't have any weapons but could a weapon even harm such a creature and should he harm such a creature? It stopped, hovering mid-air right in front of him. Alexei was still wondering if he perhaps he was just hallucinating, or could someone be pulling some kind of prank, or was this some unknown government technology they had sent to stop him? A tentacle reached out and lightly touched the side of his head.
*"Please stop this,"* a voice said in his mind. The voice was androgynous in nature, soft, and had a strange echo.
"Stop what?" he said out loud although he felt foolish doing so. Could this being understand him, was speaking out loud even necessary, and besides, he was pretty sure he knew what it meant.
*"Humanity must not perish,"* the voice said.
Despite the absolutely amazing circumstances he was in, Alexei snorted. "Clearly, you don't know humanity then. Trust me, I'm doing the planet a favor and if you really are some kind of alien, I'm doing you a favor too. The universe will be better off without us."
*"No, that is not true. Humanity stands as a shining beacon of hope for the Universe. Indeed, the only reason we have not long ago invaded your planet is because we find the human spirit to be so noble and well, to be frank, adorable."*
Alexei was so thunderstruck by this that he was speechless for several moments. Then he replied, "I have no idea what you're talking about. I don't know who or what-"
*"You are ignorant, so we are trying to be gentle. Do not test our patience however."*
"Humans are evil. We're a cancer-", Alexei began.
*"Humans are imperfect, yes. However, despite your flaws and imperfections your kind always strive to be better and to come together. We see your mind, we know your thoughts. Yes, there is war; however, then there is peace. There is rape, yes, then there is punishment and justice. There is crime, then there are those who reach out to the criminals and the lost and try to lead them to a better path. This is not so where we come from. Your kind is at its best when you love those who are different from you, whether that difference be physical, social, or ideological."*
*"Our kind knows only war without end. We live under the rule of tyrants and our only laws are their passing whims. Any deed, no matter how despicable, is acceptable so long as you can use it get ahead. Humans have had so much trouble finding other life in the universe because so much of it has been destroyed. As such, we cannot allow you to destroy humanity. You amuse us, you entertain us, and you inspire us."*
Alexei shook his head, "No, this is preposterous!" he shouted. He made to get up, to get his sample and get out of the lab.
*"Very well,"* the voice said and it was no longer gentle, it was screeching now and Alexei felt his head begin to throb. *"Let us show you."* Alexei disappeared along with the being, his fellow humans never knew how close they had come to extinction. | "Zorba! Stop staring at the pictures of the humans and tell me why they are an important race in the university" The light blue-skinned woman asked.
Zorba looked up hesitantly. She was a small girl with dark blue skin and pearly eyes. "Because humans are adorable, Miss Vannor?" She offered up.
"They are indeed the cutest race in the universe buy why do we find them so?" Miss Vannor questioned, her steely eyes narrowed on Zorba's wriggling form.
"Because they're always so nice to each other unlike our race. We always fight and discriminate whereas humans bond together" Zorba answered with a dreamy smile. Humans were so lovely. She really wanted to meet one.
"Exactly. Well done, Zorba! Humans are the most peaceful and kind race in the universe. We love to watch them and do not interfere because we don't want to expose them to our endless problems. We want them to continue living in their ignorant bliss" Miss Vannor expanded on Zorba's correct but brief explanation. "Can anyone else in the class offer me an example of when the humans bonded together?"
A jade green-skinned boy with sapphire hair raised his hand. Miss Vannor nodded gently and he began to answer. "When that evil monstrosity called Hitler tried to eliminate the Jews, the world banded together and defeated him. And afterwards all the countries swore to never have another world war. This shows that humans will never let injustice stand!" He said proudly. He had always wanted to be a human.
" That's an excellent example, Mikio! Now for your homework, I would like you to turn in 3,000 words on why we would never invade Earth. Remember the key themes are peace and kindness." Miss Vannor set their homework and watched them scribble it down before leaving. The classroom was empty except for Zorba. "What's wrong, Zorba?"
Zorba bit her lip anxiously. She didn't want to offend Miss Vannor. "Is it true you've met a human and have human ancestry?" She really wanted to know if the rumours were true.
"What a ridiculous thought!" Miss Vannor exclaimed. Her fiery red hair escaped from her bun as she shook her head in denial. "I have never met a human" Her nostrils flared at the thought.
Zorba quickly apologised. "Sorry, Miss" She left in a hurry.
Miss Vannor breathed a sigh of relief. No one could ever know about her great grandfather. She would never hear the end of it if they found out she was related to a human. And not even a nice, kind human. No she had the misfortune to be related to one of the most despised human beings around. Her first name even honoured him though she hated her father for it. She was Doni. The only plus side was that she didn't take her father's surname of Trump. She much preferred Vannor, her mother's maiden name.
Edit: Cleaned up a few typos. | 2016-09-28T05:19:18 | 2016-09-28T02:37:36 | 494 | 173 |
[WP] You and a friend jokingly start a religion in order to avoid taxes. Not long after you are in an accident and put in cryogenic freeze. You wake up many years later to find that it is now a major world religion. | ######[](#dropcap)
"What happened?" Robert asked his brow furrowed.
"Please don't kill me." Even from this end of the phone, he could see Levi wincing in response to the question. His friend had to be around 30 years old now, but he was still the same Levi he knew ten years ago.
"I just...I told Steven about it, and you know how he gets when he gets an idea in his head. He started preaching, and--"
"Why would you tell Steven?!" Robert resisted the urge to yell. He glanced up at the billboard above his car, where someone was carefully arranging the letters on the sign over and over again in different combinations. Then he glanced over at the next billboard, but had to look away almost immediately due to how rapidly it was flashing different color combinations. Someone could get a seizure from that.
"Look," Levi's voice crackled from the other end, "I didn't know he would take it seriously. Who would actually believe that chaos is the perfect state? I mean, even my mother is starting to believe it, for god's sake. She rearranges the dishes in a different order every day."
Robert became silent as the light flipped through several colors before turning green. His lips pressed together.
"The worst thing," Levi continued," is that my girlfriend believes it. She cycles through a different 'boyfriend' every day, although I suspect that has more to do with her just wanting to cheat than the religion itself, but..."
Robert had stopped listening at this point.
It was difficult to wrap the mind around. He and Levi had used the idea of "chaos" as an excuse to be messy, so they didn't have to do chores. Who knew the idea of not being perfect would be so attractive? He parked the car in the parking lot, then walked into the grocery store.
"Welcome!" An employee greeted him at the door with a huge smile.
Robert blinked. Where were the isles? The signs? All the shelves had been removed from the store, and instead, large piles of items sat on the floor, customers rummaging through them like they didn't want to kill themselves.
"How am I supposed to find anything?" Robert asked the employee.
The employee smiled. "There's peace in chaos. No need to rush. You can take your time."
"I have an appointment I have to get to."
A weird expression came over the employee's face. "B-but Chaox doesn't allow appointments," she sputtered. "It goes against everything right in the world. Nothing should be set in stone. You...you do believe in it, right?"
Robert wanted to scream. "Never mind." How would she feel if she knew he was the founder?
He walked over to a pile, grabbed some random groceries, and checked out.
Once he got back in the car, he sighed, rubbing his temple. He couldn't get ahold of his mother at all through phone. Or anyone, even. They kept changing their goddamned phone numbers. He looked over at the garbage pile festering next to the parking lot, like some giant muck monster, and turned on the AC.
The world had, quite literally, gone to shit.
But who knew he'd be the one responsible?
*****
r/AlannaWu | I don’t remember much from the few minutes before the accident, and the bright lights from this..... chamber only make my grogginess more apparent.
To the left of me, I hear gasps from the people who seem to be remnants of the people who would have worked here.
“It... It can’t be.....” , one of the workers blurts out.
“James Martin? Is.. is that you?”, this time a familiar voice spoke up.
“Yes, but who are you, and where did you take me?” I asked, getting very paranoid.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see a symbol on the wall , one I realize is the logo for that tax scheme Levi and I started.
This is my first WP attempt. Sorry if it is under par | 2018-08-16T09:41:18 | 2018-08-16T09:37:55 | 119 | 29 |
[WP] You wake up in a house. It's nice place, with all the comforts of home. However, the front door is cold steel, with a note on it. The note warns you never to leave the house. After years of compliance, you decide to go through the steel door... | It had taken me four years to finally decide to do this.
It's easy to follow rules sometimes. When following them means you stay in the well lit and furnished house, your fridge stays full, and the internet is fast. Every Christmas a game console would show up, or that sweet guitar I never got very good at playing. Things were easy...
Staring now, with the door wide open, all I can say is that ignorance was bliss. The faces on the assembled camera crew ranged from disappointed to surprised to one smug bastard with the most trollish grin I've ever seen. I stood there in shock for a few moments. Then the screaming began.
I came to strapped down in a bed, but not in the house that had been my only surrounding for so long. There were people everywhere, all running around, talking incessantly.
"What if he actually goes crazy?"
"We should just put him back in, maybe he won't try again."
"Our ratings were our highest yet! It can't end now!"
My overwhelmed mind takes longer than I'd like to admit to put it together, but it's pretty clear. A reality show, four seasons running, of me in a house alone. At first I can't even believe it, who would watch that shit? Just me, doing random everyday stuff.
But then it sinks in.
All the times I sang for no reason, or acted out scenes from TV shows I'd been watching. Learning that guitar, playing games, more than a few ragequits. And as the years passed I picked up other habits, hand puppets, drawing people on the wall so I had someone to talk to, that face I drew on the pillow to not wake up alone... And Jesus, all those times I was sitting around naked and decided to...
My first major act in the world following my return was screaming until I passed out. My second was projectile vomiting all over myself and those around me while strapped to a bed. I should have stayed in the damned house.
A couple hours pass, I pump everyone who passes me for information. The show had a lame start but as I became more unhinged it picked up popularity. Sponsors, audience participation (which explained the weird phonecalls and packages I'd been receiving), a fucking Primetime Emmy? Really? I'm exhausted and confused and angry and still strapped to a bed. I start yelling again, this time to be released, compensated, that I'd find lawyers and they'd do something about this. The people nearby stop coming near me.
I wake up, I assume it's the next day. The straps are off, and the people are gone. The room I'm in feels like a prison, and I scramble out of bed and to the door. I hesitate, staring at it. My luck with doors isn't great right now, but hell, what else could happen right?
I wasn't expecting a brunch table to be laid out. I'm also too hungry to care. I'm almost half a plate in before I even realize there is someone on the other side of the table. He's a stuffy, suit-wearing business type, hands steepled in front of him as he watches me. He has a stack of papers and a pen in front of him, and that never bodes well so I ignore him. Naturally he didn't make it easy.
"How are you feeling?" he asks, his false concern is grating. I've watched enough TV in the past few years to tell a bad actor, and this guy was awful. I chew as loudly as I can.
"Alright fine, we'll cut to the chase. Blah blah abduction, lies, and taking advantage. Nobody wants to have that conversation, you're angry and I'm clearly not here to apologize."
I narrow my eyes while chewing on bacon, but nod. At least he's being straightforward.
"So let's talk the future. Obviously we're willing to compensate you for your time, and if you choose to undergo plastic surgery to distance yourself from the... colorful person you've become in that house, that's your choice."
I feel my cheeks burn but refuse to break eye contact, everybody's weird, they just don't have a camera shoved up their ass all day.
"But before we get to that we have a problem. You see, we have a great finale to the series, but we're only a third of the way through season 5..." His hand pushes the stack of papers towards me. "So, how do you feel about another few months of free living with a fat paycheck on the end?"
Look, I'm only human. We're not all perfect. Some of us cure the sick, some of us explore the universe, some of us kidnap idiots off the street and film them. Me? Well I dance naked and sing Spice Girls for the world to watch. Least I don't have to do groceries. | I stood in front of the steel door. The note told me not to leave, and I had always complied. I’d never even tried the giant knob that looked like a steering wheel that set in the middle of the door.
I’d gone to bed as thirty-seven year old part time temp living in a roach and mouse infested studio apartment with two other men. I’d woken up in a house larger than any I’d ever lived in that had every creature comfort I could ever want. It seemed like something I shouldn’t question.
Was it the drugs?
No. I hadn’t taken any the night before. I’d been clean. I didn’t even drink a beer on the stoop like I did every night.
I didn’t want to question my luck. Maybe I was dead and this was Heaven. Maybe the door led to Hell.
Everything was provided for me. Fresh food in the fridge. Clean towels in the bathroom. Clean sheets on the bed. Even the television shows were new. I never saw a repeat unless I wanted to.
I went through withdrawals. There weren’t any drugs or alcohol in the house, not even in the mouthwash. I’d never been a religious man, but I was pretty sure God didn’t like overindulgence in booze and drugs.
Over a period of a few years I got bored. Not having anyone to talk to grated on me. I started drawing faces on the walls and objects so that I could have something to talk to. My best friends became the actors on the sitcoms I watched.
I started to sit and stare at the metal door and its note. The television blared in the background while I thought about what could be on the other side. Long ago I’d thought it was Hell, but what if it wasn’t?
Pacing the house wore trails in the carpet. I’d had enough. I’d open the door. I couldn’t take being alone anymore.
Hope of another person to talk to won out over anything else.
I gripped the knob with both hands and turned. It spun with almost no resistance. I spun it and spun it for what seemed like minutes until the door latch clicked. As the door started to open I stepped back.
I stepped through the doorway into the void and hoped that at the other side I would find what I desired.
| 2015-03-21T10:57:41 | 2015-03-21T08:52:25 | 60 | 14 |
[WP] It's 3 AM. An official phone alert wakes you up. It says "DO NOT LOOK AT THE MOON". You have hundreds of notifications. Hundreds of random numbers are sending "It's a beautiful night tonight. Look outside." | My hand reached out from the messy nest of blankets I was buried under, and flopped onto the buzzing phone on my dresser. Bleary-eyed and dazed, I dragged it under the blankets with me, refusing to let myself be fully roused from a solid nights sleep. "What the fuck," I muttered to myself, nearly mumbling the words out loud.
With a pained squint of too much brightness far too suddenly, I looked at the screen and saw - jesus, had to be hundreds of notifications, at least. Which was weird enough; me getting messages from 100+ people? Not enough people like me for that to be a common occurrence. But weirder still was they all said the same exact thing, "It's a beautiful night tonight. Look outside." Bitches, it's basically morning, I thought. But before I could move, let alone shake the cozy cocoon of blankets from my head to look out my window and see what could possibly be so damn beautiful, my phone buzzed again.
I practically jumped as it shocked my hand. There was a new message, but this one said something different, "DO NOT LOOK AT THE MOON." "What?" This time I actually did speak out loud. Frustration now fully replaced by curiosity and a racing heart, I kicked the blankets off and staggered down the hall to my roommates bedroom.
"Mon?" I called, knocking on her closed door. Mon was short for Monica. We had only been roommates for a short time - me, in desperate need of a new apartment, and her, with a newly empty house gifted by her parents - but friends for about a year. There was no answer. I tried again, "Mon? You up?" I shivered, which was odd. Sure, I was dressed only in a long tee shirt but it had been spring for weeks now; it should have been enough to feel warm in this house. I heard a loud THUD and bang from inside Monica's room. "Monica? Are you okay?" When still there was no answer, I threw open the door.
There was Monica, hanging from the light fixture. Her heavy wooden desk stool lay toppled on the floor beneath her. "Oh my god!" I screamed, "Monica!" I raced to her feet, held them, grabbed the stool and placed them under her feet. But her body had gone extraordinarily limp in such a short time. Phone in hand, I called 911. Busy signal. What? How...I pulled the phone away from my ear, my other arm still wrapped around Monica's ice cold legs. The blaring sound seemed to fill the air as I tried to comprehend how this could be possible. All right, no problem, let's try again, I thought, swallowing hard and trying not to shake. Busy signal, again. What the hell could be happening, I thought, feeling the stirrings of real panic start to fill my body.
There was a TV in Monica's room. I gingerly placed Monica's feet on the table, then ran to grab the remote sitting on her night table. I clicked, and my eyes were suddenly swimming in the bright colors and video of New Channel One. Almost instantly, I felt my knees buckle from under me. "Sources are reporting a sweep of suicides all over the nation," the newscaster was saying in a somber and serious tone. Her blood red lipstick matched her blazer as she went on, mouth uttering words that made me believe this all could only be a dream. "911 is overwhelmed with floods of calls. Police called to hundreds upon thousands of scenes of jumpers immediately shot themselves upon looking upward. No one is quite yet sure as to what the correlation might be-"
I turned away from the tv, staring down at the phone in my hand. I looked over to Monica's desk and picked up her phone. She too, had hundreds of the "look outside" texts. But the one she didn't have - the warning not to look at the moon.
My breath grew ragged, shallow, as I scrolled through her notifications and could not find a warning anywhere. And all I could think was: why me?' | The explosions had been rumbling off in the distance for hours as a young boy tried to drift off to sleep. The war might be raging, but the Allied Forces had deemed his village far enough away that an evacuation was only advised, not mandatory. With his mother the way that she was, the brunette knew that he would be sleeping in his own bed as soon as he heard those words. Still, the sounds persisted even as they faded into the background and then became an incorporated soundtrack to vague, shifty dreams.
A repetitive chirp woke him up as the witching hour drew to a close. Sitting up and rubbing his eyes in annoyance, he glanced at his blocky phone, the display lit up with hundreds of messages, all from unknown numbers, telling him to look at the moon. Above that, in bright red letters, scrolled a message “DO NOT LOOK AT THE MOON”. It all seemed so ridiculous, the boy thought as he lay back down, ignoring his phone. Still, curiosity gnawed at him. *What was so special about the moon tonight?*
10 minutes passed, then 15, and still the boy couldn’t shake his curiosity. Finally heeding the gnawing drive in his chest, the boy sat up again, this time turning to his window, barred tight against the October chill. Brushing aside his curtains, the boy was greeted by the sight of a blood red moon for almost an instant, marred by rings and three black tomoe, before he woke up again to spring birds chirping. | 2022-08-07T20:43:05 | 2018-04-06T18:58:31 | 379 | 12 |
[WP] You are a villain who kidnapped the smart guy on your nemesis team, they tell you that nobody will come for them and that the hero doesn't care. You didn't believe them at first but it been a month and nobody shows up and after once again hearing them cry at night you had enough | "They won't come." The Mastermind told me for what had probably been the hundredth time since I had kidnapped him.
"I really didn't believe you at first." I responded. "I thought you were a teammate to them; I thought they were true heroes that would never leave a man behind, but it looks like I was wrong."
"I'm their teammate; I knew it was happening." He responded bitterly.
"Hey, look." I began to make a proposition. "Since these teammates of yours don't seem like they have your back, maybe you can join me. I mean, I'm usually a loner, but a brilliant superhero like you could really help me out."
"Do you mean it?" His face lit up with interest.
"Yeah, I mean, I'm sure you'd like to get revenge on your old team which I could help with."
"I'm not big on revenge. I'm still a hero at heart, but I think we could make a great team."
After some internal debate, I let The Mastermind out of the prison I had been holding him in. "You do anything weird, and I'm killing you." I said with my most threatening voice which probably wasn't particularly threatening.
"You got it man." He raised his hands defensively. "So, what's your first plan?"
"There's a villain attack happening in a few hours and we'll meet your old team in the depths of the city."
As I had known, a vicious attack by the Devastators occurred. The Mastermind's old team, the Justice Defenders, had arrived to put a stop to the attack, and The Mastermind and myself arrived just at the end.
It was a scene of destruction. There were superheroes and super-villains fighting in every corner of the city. Civillians were being hurt, buildings were being destroyed, and for once, I couldn't stomach the scene of destruction.
I had always been part of the backfoot of villainous activity. My telekinetic powers made it easy for me to steal, kidnap and flee. I was a valuable asset to other villains at times due to my immense power, but I had never been one to engage in combat. I had come to the scene of the event to cleanup and rob, not to fight.
"Help."
I saw The Mastermind rush over to a young girl pinned under a piece of a fallen building in the corner of my eye. It was as he had said–he was a hero at heart.
He struggled.
He was known as a smart hero, not a strong one, and a building proved to be more his match.
"Dark Telepath, I need your help." I heard him say to me. "You have the power to help."
I clenched my teeth and closed my eyes. To help someone went against my villainous past, but I recalled the month I had spent with The Mastermind. I knew the stories of the people he had helped to save. All the families he had reunited. The people he had helped. He told me it was never about doing things for himself.
It was a decision I would never be able to take back, but I raised that building with my telekinetic powers with ease. At that moment, I knew The Mastermind was never abandoned by his team. Instead, he had come to my rescue. | I pause for a few seconds. The poor guy.
"Would you like to join my team? We have Frank here, second in command who can always find something wrong with my decisions, Ellen, the general and my third in command, Lia, fourth in command, my prime bodyguard, but we don't have a smart guy. We could really use your skills."
"Really?" Jake looked up. "You'd give me a team that cares about me? That would come for me if I ever got kidnapped?"
"Of course! So, do you wanna join?"
"Hell yeah. Villains seem to have all the fun, anyway."
"Well then, welcome to the team, Jake." | 2021-08-04T14:33:57 | 2021-08-04T11:22:14 | 495 | 204 |
[WP] You are locked up for a murder you didn't commit. You protest your innocence through the entire process. However, at your trial, as you look through all the damning evidence, you are starting to doubt yourself. | “Not guilty, your honor.”
I remember saying those words loud and with conviction, practically spat them with pride in fact. I remember assuring my attorney that while she was probably used to defending scumbags who were guilty as sin, I was not in that group. I was the special snowflake she could cling to when her conscience got her down from defending the actions of actually heinous individuals… I was unique, I was a legitimately innocent person on trial for a murder he didn’t commit.
All that confidence began to evaporate right around the time the trial actually began. Witness after witness claimed they’d seen me kill my elderly neighbor Mr. Sanderson in broad daylight. My own parents testified, but not on the side you might hope. They looked pained as they testified against me, but they did so nonetheless. The cops said they had my DNA evidence on the murder weapon. My neighbors security camera caught me on tape crossing onto his property just minutes before the murder was alleged to have been committed. Frankly, as I sat through hours of testimony and mountains of evidence being shoveled on top of me, I was being convinced of my own guilt.
Even so, I very genuinely don't remember it at all. I don’t do drugs, I don’t get blackout drunk, so I struggled to imagine I had committed this crime in some hallucinogenic haze, but what other explanation could there be? Was this a horrible dream? The dozens of times I’d pinched myself extremely hard during this trial suggested no. Was I being pranked? Alien body swap? No explanation I could fathom made a lick of sense.
Well, nothing made sense until the prosecutors submitted the alleged murder weapon into evidence. Bizarrely, it was my neighbors antique gas powered lawn mower. The memories came flooding back to me in an instant and against all logic I rose in shock to address the court.
“Oh… oh my god,” I stuttered. “Your honor, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I am *so* genuinely sorry to have wasted your time. I did it, I’m guilty.”
“You’re WHAT?” the judge and my attorney exclaimed simultaneously.
“Yeah, it all just came back to me. I killed him with the mower. Sounds awful, but yep, I ran him over with it, then… backed over him… then ran him over again for good measure.”
Shocked gasps and screams filled the courtroom. The judge banged the gavel over and over but nothing seemed to quiet the room after my massive revelation.
The prosecutor sprang to his feet, sensing the opportunity to get me to hang myself fully. “Why did you kill Mr. Sanderson?!” he yelled, clearly trying to get me to admit my motive to lock down his case against me.
“This is embarrassing, Mr. Sanderson and I had been arguing for years about one particular practice of his. He has mowed his lawn at 6am Saturday AND Sunday every single week since I moved in.”
“Oh, well I’m starting to understand how you were driven to this… I mean uhhh… continue please,” the prosecutor blurted unintentionally.
“Yeah, so it’s no excuse, but I’d worked a double shift the night before the crime took place. I left a note on his door begging him to delay his lawn work, even just until 9am or something to give me some slight respite. But sure enough, right at 6 o’clock, the deafening sound of that rusty old claptrap mower roared to life and woke me from my oh so brief slumber.”
Murmurs raced through the courtroom as I continued. “And then when I stepped out my front door I found my note returned to my front porch. He’d clearly read it and just chose to ignore it. He did add one thing to the note however, a pile of his dogs feces rested atop it and on my front porch.”
“What a goddamn monster… who returns a neighbors heartfelt note with a pile of dog crap?” the judge said aloud, shockingly not referring to me.
“Well, I suppose I should mention this wasn’t especially new territory. He intentionally had his dog poop in my yard and never cleaned it up. I asked him many times but he’d just laugh in my face. ‘Call the poop police, why dont ya?’ he’d say often. Well, that's not a direct quote, but I don’t want to say any of the various slurs he always included in court. So yeah, I guess that morning I just finally snapped. I walked over, knocked him down and… ran him over with his own lawn mower. It was a grisly death and nothing excuses my behavior. Again, I’m so very sorry for wasting anyone’s time.”
I sat down and my lawyer began to whisper to me but I cut her off. “Look, I’m most sorry to you, I *honestly* thought I was innocent until this very moment. In my sleep deprived state apparently I didn't record a single memory of the events. I really hope this doesn’t count against your stats or anything when I’m found guilty,” I told her solemnly.
“I’m-- I'm actually not entirely sure that we’re done for yet,” she whispered.
I almost laughed aloud. “What?!” I asked incredulously. “It certainly appears that I ran over my elderly neighbor several times with his own lawn mower blades, that's some psychopath behavior isn’t it?”
“I’m not so certain,” she murmured. “Oh sure, the jury was absolutely horrified as you admitted your guilt, frankly I was as well, but they looked almost sympathetic by the time you finished speaking. I mean really, 6am on *both* weekend mornings? That is also some ‘psychopath’ behavior!”
&#x200B;
r/Ryter
Legal Note: The author does not in any way condone murder by lawnmower, but neither can I condone loud lawn mowers firing up far too early on weekend mornings 😅 Thanks for reading! | *Hm. Well this certainly isn't promising. When did I have the time to both commit a murder and somehow forget about it? Surely there's something mistaken in this evidence.*
"The prosecution would like to submit item B2 as our next piece of evidence. As you can see in the picture, it clearly shows the defendant, James Nelson, stabbing the victim in the chest with item A3, the previously displayed murdered weapon."
*Not sure how I can explain this one.*
"Moving on, we would like to enter into evidence item B3, the fingerprint profile that clearly matches Mr. Nelson. These prints were pulled from the knife, the empty wallet found next to the body, on the victim's discarded pocket watch, and on the candy bar wrapper found on top of the body."
*I littered on a man that I killed? Maybe I really do belong in prison...*
"Continuing, the prosecution submits evidence D6 for examination. As you can see, the DNA evidence found at the scene is, again, a perfect match for Mr. Nelson."
*Damn. Maybe if it was just a single helix I could find a way out of this, but double? I guess I really did do this.*
"And lastly, the state submits the confession letter found on Mr. Nelson's computer. It reads, and I quote" 'I, Jim Nelson, killed Andy Malat with my own hand for an unpaid debt. The scum deserved it.'"
*Yep, I definitely did it then. Hard to argue with a confes- hey wait a minute...*
"In closing, the prosecution believes the evidence overwhelming and damning, and is sure you the jury wil-"
"Um, excuse me?"
"Mr. Nelson, you better have a good reason for this interruption - don't make me add contempt to your list of crimes!"
"I..I think I do. Did you say 'Jim Nelson' when you were reading the confession letter?"
"I did. Why?"
"Oh! That's my brother! I only go by James to keep things less confusing. Jim is my legal name, but it's also my brother's. 'A name so good you might as well use it twice!' my dad always said. My parents weren't expecting identical twins, so they named us the same to save time. Terribly uncreative people, they were."
...
"And how do you explain how this supposed brother would have gained access to your home, Mr. Nelson?"
"He was helping me move to my new place. He had been over for a few days prior at my old place, packing up pictures and shredding old documents and cl- oh..."
"WHY have you only just mentioned this now, Mr. Nelson? You didn't think this would be critical information?"
"I told you about him! When you asked if I thought anybody else was capable of this, I very clearly remember saying 'Jim Nelson.' I just assumed you hadn't found any evidence on him when you arrested me."
"...that's your name, sir! We thought you were being difficult and talking in the third person!"
"But I only go by James!"
...
"Your honor, we request a recess to try and sort out whatever this is."
"Granted."
*Whew, what a relief. I knew I wasn't capable of littering on a corpse!* | 2019-07-08T09:49:01 | 2019-07-08T09:42:34 | 46 | 17 |
[WP] it is now legal for children to be sent to jail with adults. You are a man in jail, and your new cellmate is a 6 year old boy. | I sat on the edge of my bunk, hands together, eyes scanning the familiar wall opposite. I had been told to expect my new cellmate today, that the few days of blissful solitude since Billy was stabbed with a comb were coming to an end.
Of course, the best cellmate had been no cellmate at all. Isolation might be one of the punishments of prison, but when you spend every day in a concrete box with your fellow scum, a few hours of isolation a night are the most precious hours imaginable.
Aside from no one, Billy hadn't been terrible. He kept to himself, kept quiet mostly, except for during his nightmares. But of course the outside had crept in, as usual, and his life had caught up to him in the way it usually does in here. Stabbed with a comb, filed sharp over the course of days.
Before Billy, it had been Withers. Withers had been a terrible cellmate. He would beat me up when he got bored, and get us both beaten up when he got caught with booze and coke. And when he wasn't beating me up or getting me beaten up he was playing that god awful harmonica. I had to kill Withers in the end, didn't look like anyone else was going to. I suffocated him with my pillow.
I knew my new cellmate would not be as good as nobody, and I had only to hope he would not be as bad as Withers. Another Billy, I supposed, would be acceptable, but of course with another Billy was the risk of coming back to the cell and finding him with a comb in his throat.
Thinking, as I had been, for about ten minutes, my eyes had run out of things to look at on the opposite wall, and had glazed over in disuse. I didn't even see the guard approaching with my new cellmate until he cleared his bullish throat and rattled my cage with his truncheon. My eyes unstuck themselves from the opposite wall, swiveling in my still skull to see how I had rolled.
Well it wasn't nobody, but it didn't seem far off.
"Put your hands on your head," I was ordered, "I'm bringing in your new friend."
Pointlessly complying, I watched as the cell door ground open and my cellmate stumbled in. I could have fit both of his balled fists in one hand, he couldn't have been more than six. The guard uncuffed the boy, eyes on me as if I might leap into action, smother him with a pillow. Finally, he left without a word.
For at least an hour, I stared, baffled, at the child criminal, and he stared, terrified, at me. His matchstick legs almost rattled as he quaked in fear. I couldn't blame him. The mirror had been removed from my cell a few cellmates back (it was broken anyway) but I knew I was a grim sight. What sort of sight he was, however, I could not say. I couldn't even remember the last time I saw a child, or anyone who wasn't a con or a cop.
"So what are you in here for?" I finally asked.
The boy only cried. This place was fucked. | I had heard about this before. Nanotechnology being used at conception to create the perfect human. Free of disease, free of genetic defects. The perfect humans. What they didn't take into account was how quickly in the womb these children would develop. How smart they would become.
They didn't consider the 9 months of maddeness and insanity due to the total isolation while growing inside their mothers.
I suddenly remembered a book I had read while in the marines about child soldiers and strategists. I knew I wasn't staring at a fictional savior of humanity.
I was looking into the cold dead eyes of pure evil. | 2014-05-25T06:41:25 | 2014-05-25T06:10:14 | 208 | 65 |
[WP] Immortal monsters of legend have returned after lying dormant for thousands of years. However, the legends were made before guns were a thing, and the "immortal" thing was kind of overblown. | Eons ago, during an age unrecorded by man or other creature, the Leviathans came. They emerged from the sea every decade, casting an eternal darkness wherever they step foot on. The ones who didn't flee in utter terror found it hard to breath, and then realized that the air had turned to acid. Those with spells or enchanted weapons stood little chance, their armor was thicker than the tallest of trees and harder than a mountain. The legends, from various oral traditions, claim that a vast army had finally put the threat down. In that age, the Leviathans were just stories.
&#x200B;
Then, something awoke them. In the mining regions of Alaska, the Leviathans once again rose from their slumber, enraged that their tombs were invaded by the constant drilling of mankind. They arose, and the mountains of fire on their backs created a smog that could be seen even from space. People thought it was an oil refinery accident, until the firefighters and police sent there were slaughtered. The Leviathan threat lived once again.
&#x200B;
Once again, the Dread King Cranthar would lead his people to destroy the pests. He had seen them run thousands of times. He knew how they fought, shield walls or spaced spearmen supported by mages who would filter the air. And 9 out of 10 times, they were unstoppable.
&#x200B;
"The infestation will once again be culled!" Cranthar bellowed to his legion in the ashy air, followed by a roar of approval. "They have become weak, these humans. They have forgotten not only us, but magic as well." They had laughed, magic was the only thing to prolong the human's existence if they got close. And with no more magic, meant that there were no more of those pesky heroes with their enchanted blades. Now, finally, the Leviathans were truly immortal.
&#x200B;
\---
&#x200B;
5 miles away, a team of US Army reconnaissance personnel had already sent the coordinates of the Leviathans back to the base's artillery battery commanders. Another 8 miles away lay several dozen heavy guns, 155mm Howitzers, with their crews trying to defend themselves against the February winds. It had been a week since the President had ordered a military taskforce against the new threats, and today each Leviathan was about to see what humanity had done since abandoning magic.
&#x200B;
The crewmen rushed to their guns once the order was issued, and in under a minute each and every Howitzer, all capable of annihilating a house.
&#x200B;
Cranthar had thought a storm had started with so much thunder in the air. Several seconds later, a the world turned into fire and smoke. Two Leviathans were destroyed, one had a gapping hole in its chest while the other lost most of its head. Before anyone had time to react, several more strikes hit them. Dust was thrown up in the air, and multiple shockwaves threw scores of Leviathans to the ground. Cranthar himself recieved a blow, dozens of pieces of shrapnel from the shell embeded themselves into his eye. The Dread King roared in pain, yet he couldn't even hear himself or even the blasts. The incredible force hit the Leviathans again and again, and more of Cranthar's kind were ripped apart.
&#x200B;
It lasted for little over a minute. Helicopter flown troops later arrived onto the scene. The survivors were either too shocked or wounded to put up any resistance. Cranthar couldn't even tell what was happening by then, his body felt too numb, and his other senses were gone. The air didn't smell of volcanic victory anymore, but of his own dead kin. | -- Do you have any idea how much a kraken penis can net you on the Japanese black market ?!
-- No, but I'm pretty sure it has something to do with their near extinction, isn't ?
Krakens, like werewolves, dragons and many others made their way to the endangered species list.
There were some people who tried to open sanctuaries for those creatures, but as for elephants, rhinos and other fabled creatures of the previous centuries, they were no match for people's greed.
At first, as usual, humans were scared, but it didn't take long before some of them saw a business opportunity there.
Maybe a long time ago, those creatures stood a chance against ill equiped sailors, against the infamous knight in shiny armor, but let's face it, a 50 mm round shot didn't give much to regenerate.
And there was a slight difference between an "Ahab style" harpoon and the powder powered monsters used on boats whom size ridiculed even the biggest of the sea monsters.
Magic tried many times to come back to our world, only to meet the cruel and quick fate of outdated things.
-- So... You think it's not the right time ?
-- No, Harry, I don't want to have my wizard parts dried and sold in bulk, so please, let's keep as quite as we can...
| 2019-03-20T19:56:40 | 2019-03-20T19:45:26 | 33 | 16 |
[WP] all "walks into a bar" jokes happen in the same bar. you're the bartender. | "Hey, buddy! Our sign clearly says, 'No Horses Allowed,' And don't give me that long face, mister!"
Jacob scowled at the Clydesdale as it cantered out, neighing indignantly. He sighed heavily, turning to the sole remaining patron of his bar. "I don't get it, Sam. Why do these jokers keep turning up here?"
The grizzled lush looked up from his beer. "Whole neighborhood has gone to Hell, it has," he drawled. "Back when I was growing up, these roustabouts stayed on their own side. Pfft! Gone to Hell, it has."
"A beacon of wisdom as always, Sam. Are you going to have another or..."
The door creaked open and a heavyset man in full orthodox Jewish regalia stepped in. Jacob leered suspiciously, opened his mouth to speak and then decided against it. A priest in Catholic mass garments entered beside him, followed by a Muslim with a full white robe and thobe.
"Ah, fuck," Jacob spat. "No religious trios, guys! It says so right outside, underneath the horse sign!"
The Jew huffed, the priest bowed and the Muslim flipped him off, but they left without incident.
"Ay, why don't you just serve the damn fools?" Sam asked. "They're stealin' all our jobs anyway. May as well get a bit 'o the coin back, yeah?"
"Too much of a liability," Jacob replied. "Had a Panda come in about a month ago. Pulls out a gun and kills half of my regulars before hightailing it out. Looked up the fucker on Wikipedia; it was a Chinese Panda who eats shoots and leaves."
"Ah, damn shame," Sam said, shaking his head.
"Half of them aren't even good for the drinks, anyway. After the Panda and before I began enforcing the ban, I was getting a ton of Bohemians. Had to bounce half of those Czechs out."
Sam nodded. "I tell ya, mate, these characters..."
A tall, well-built man with chestnut hair, an olive complexion, and a thick overcoat walked in, surveying the scene with a quick glance. Jacob eyed him as the approached the bar.
"Evening, sir," Jacob said cautiously, alert for any impropriety. "Get ya something to drink?"
"Evening," the man said, nodding slightly and settling himself on a stool. "I'll just have a beer, please."
Jacob smiled, a visible relief washing over his face. He poured a pint of his best ale and handed it over. "This one's on the house, friend," he said. "Just glad to have another normal bloke around these parts."
"Thank you, sir," the man replied. "I'm surprised to see this place so empty on a Friday night. It's a lovely establishment."
"Ah yes. Well, we've had some troublesome clientele lately and...say, what do you have there?"
The man had pulled a large chunk of asphalt from under his coat, placing it on the counter. "Oh, I was just wondering if I could get another beer. For the road." | 'Oh for fucks sake, not again!' The elderly man behind the slick, wooden bar sighed in exhasperation. Another pair of twits has 'walked into the bar' again. That makes the fourth today and its only ten o'clock in morning! The bar is extraordinarily clean as the elderly man has spent many years tending to it with a well oiled cloth. The tables and chairs are arranged neatly, napkins and cutlery placed with obvious care. Wooden floorboards were stain and spill free, surprising with the amount of Jokesters who think they're funny.
Suddenly the door screaches on un-oiled hinges and a horse walk in.
Not again | 2016-09-18T19:15:12 | 2016-09-18T16:48:53 | 26 | 14 |
[WP] Looking into the camera on your phone you jokingly say, "Hey, NSA, if you want to go out on a date, gimme a call!" To your surprise, suddenly the phone rings! "H-hello?" "Hi! I'm from the NSA." | “Hey Jim,” Jason called. No response. “Hey, Jim!”
“Yeah?”
“Come ‘ere for a sec,” Jason giggled.
“What’s goin on?”
“Check this out.” Jason brought his phone to his face. “Hey, NSA, if you wanna go on a date, gimme a call!”
Jim shook his head. “You brought me over here for that?”
“Y-yeah” said Jason. “Yeah, man. Funny.”
“I come here to work, Jason. I work here. We know you just sit around doing fuck all, but the rest of us have *jobs*, Jason. *Jobs.*”
“I know, man, it’s just…It’s funny.”
Jim walked away shaking his head. Jason began to pretend-type at his computer.
His phone rang. “Hello?”
“Hi,” replied a female voice. “I’m calling about the date.”
“What?” Jason looked around at his co-workers.
“My name’s Trisha. I work with the National Security Agency.”
“Uh hi. I-I’m—“
“Jason,” she said, quickly. “I know that.”
The paper clip he held shook with his hand.
“Jason, are you there?” asked Trisha. “I don’t want this to be weird or—”
“It is,” he said. “It is weird.”
“Well why should it be? You spoke into your camera for a reason. You provided consent to my calling.”
“It was a joke, for Ji—to be funny.”
“Alright, what time should we meet?”
“Meet? Listen—”
“You’re currently located at 21st and 3rd,” she said. “I can meet you there when I get off in like thirty minutes, if you’d like.”
“No,” he said. “No, I don’t think so.”
“Sorry?”
“I don’t think that’s a very good idea,” said Jason. “Just not a good idea, is all.”
The buzzing of pale office lights grew louder.
“So this is your game, huh?” she asked.
“What?”
“You go around, roping people into taking a risk, going out on a limb to accept *your* offer and then reject them?” Her voice rose. “That’s it?”
“N-no, listen, it’s not like that I have—I’m seeing someone, actually.”
“Lisa? That ended months ago, Jason. Get over it.”
“H-how’d you know about—”
“Marlene? Tina? Who, who are you seeing, Jason?”
Jason’s eyes were shifting back and forth. Sweat dripped from his brow. “Someone new, we go out on weekends, sometimes—”
“You spent the last three weekends watching television and eating peanut butter.”
“No—”
“And let’s not get into what *else* you did, hm?”
“What do you want?”
“Again, Jason,” she said sternly, “what time shall we *meet*?”
“S-s—“
“Hm?”
“Seven-thirty?” he croaked.
“See you then.”
“But where, how—”
*Click.* | "Hi! I'm from the NSA. You have a problem."
"W-what?" I pressed record.
"You're paranoid and you need to get help."
I activated my home-scripted call trace app. "And? You called me, didn't you?"
"You're not speaking to anyone of any importance. I'm an occupational therapist. You're in a very bad place, right now. You don't think anyone understands."
Closing the shutters, I retrieved my Faraday helmet (for blocking out mind-readers.) "You know me so well."
The NSA agent didn't say anything for a while.
"I'm sorry, John."
I smiled. | 2015-02-20T19:49:21 | 2015-02-20T17:21:13 | 27 | 14 |
[WP]Both of your parents made deals with fae about giving them their firstborn. Different fae... Now you live under the joint custody of two faeries who don't like this situation one bit. | Maryglen went into the wood to pick apples rather than pick the ripened fruit from the trees in her garden. Then she climbed to the well on the hill to fetch water, rather than use the pump in her own yard. She needed time away from the house, and she was only granted this freedom while doing her chores. A pity, she thought, that the "momsters" don't need anything from the market.
Her two moms, not that she believed either of them were her mother, were fighting again. And, as usual, they were fighting over her and their own differing plans for Maryglen's future. Not that the girl who was to live them was ever asked. Nor did they want her opinion.
Maryglen sit on the hill looking down into the valley. She selected the best apple from the bunch and bit into it. The momsters could over the second best like they fought over everything else. For all long as she could remember, she'd been raised by Agatha, the water elemental, and Grizilda, the wood witch. And for just as long, they were at each other's throats -- sometimes literally. She was amazed one hadn't killed the other yet.
Despite her circumstances, she had to laugh. She lived in a humble cottage, but when the fairy not-parents drank to deeply from the casks, they'd spill more than just their wine. They dropped clues about their lives before. Agatha had her own castle in Lake Aweiwego. Grizilda had a mansion of living oak in Werkwood. However, both were forced to live midway between their domains because of Maryglen.
To be fair, it was because of her actual parents. Long ago, Agatha saved her mother from drowning and demanded a "fair" price. Before that, Grizilda had bargained with her father to rescue him while lost in the forest. Both appeared at the moment of Maryglen's birth, but neither was happy. They each petitioned the Unseelie Court with Grizilda arguing she had the prior contract, while Agatha argued the primacy of the maternal claim to a child. The court ruled that since the parents hadn't known each other when either bargain was struck, nor did they at any time become aware of the other lien, nor had either fae informed the parties involved, they had to share custody of the child until such time they settle the dispute amongst themselves in whatever matter they saw fit and a choice was made.
What they had planned for her, Maryglen hadn't overheard. But so far those plans had been deferred for a dozen years while the momsters tried to bargain, cajole and trick each other into giving up their claim. They never tried a game of chance that she could remember. Most likely because they both knew that they other would cheat.
Discarding her apple core and retrieving her bucket, Maryglen started back home. The fae worried if she was out too long. They weren't afraid she'd run away. Where would she go? They fear she might stray too far too one domain or the other, and thus allow one to say that she'd made a choice. Upon realizing that this was a possibility, Maryglen restricted her own movements, keeping away from both places.
When she reached the cottage, the two fae paused their argument. Agatha yelled at her, "Where have you been?"
Maryglen set the apples and water on the table. Then she made a pouty face and cried, "You don't love me!"
The wood witch jumped out of her rocking chair by the fire. "I love you, child! Come to your dear Grizilda!"
"Stay away from her! I love you more. I needed the water to make you a delicious supper. You know I do wonders with water. You'll love it."
With a final sniffle, Maryglen's fake tears dried up. "Okay. Thank you. I'll go wait in my room."
When the door closed behind her, she heard the fighting start again. Four more years, she thought. The court said that they had shared custody of the child. But she'd read all the books in the library and knew that after her sixteen birthday, she was no longer a child, and neither could claim custody.
And then she would have to find a way back to her own world, and find her parents. All she knew were their names, Mary and Glen, but she would find them any way she could. As long as she didn't have to sell her own firstborn.
\--
Edit: forgot to add: More stories at r/xwhy | “You live past the place no one goes, getting the child to you on your visitation days is going to be a nightmare...a literal goblin infested nightmare journey!”, said Hilea the maiden fairy of the Anderall Forrest.
Tilea, the peculiar fairy maiden of Bak’Tulgurr, the land of brimstone and ash, floated about with a patch of glee on her face that nary a dark spell produced by the Master Necromancer herself could even wipe off!
Tilea was floating around a small garden collecting frogs for her “toad collection”. Hilea had spent an entire summer trying to explain the differences between frogs and toads to Tilea but to no avail.
Tilea looked up from her “ toad collecting” and finally noticed that Hilea had been talking to her this entire time, but instead of asking Hilea to repeat herself, she asked Hilea a question.
“Do you think the child will like fire, and rune magic, and all the interesting things that go on around where I live?” , Tilea asked curiously.
Hilea’s face was red with frustration, she calmed herself, reminding herself of the charm the Dark Wizard Markhan’ai placed on Tilea to make her oblivious to the dreadful nature of the land she was tasked with overseeing.
This would be an interesting arrangement, this “joint-partnership between mutual beings to which they are both bound to a single child for all eternity” or as the Women and Men folk call it, “ Joint custody”. Hilea sat on a lily pad and just watched her cousin float around , shrinking frogs and putting them in her wicker basket.
However, little did Hilea know, Markhan’ai the dread Wizard, had plans for the child himself...and it would take all of her cunning as the Fae of the Great Forrest Anderall, to assure her newly adopted child would lead a happy life, free from the vileness of dark magic. | 2021-05-14T10:01:39 | 2021-05-14T06:03:17 | 57 | 12 |
[WP] The man smiles, and puts a single vial filled with a swirling blue gas into the pot. “A soul,” he sneers. You aren’t exactly sure which one of your friends invited him, but Friday Night Poker just got significantly more interesting. | "A soul."
We all looked across the the table at it. The bottle was stoppered with cork, like it were drink, but something swirled inside like a blue mist. One could occasionally glimpse a face. This was the soul of someone exceptional. A priest? a poet? A murderer of distinction?
I looked up into the player's eyes. They were a sickly yellow, with a drop of blood in the center. The image of hell, and we all knew that going in. But the Devils didn't trade or gamble souls away. They sold the nevercold brass in abundance. Occasionally devilbone, though it brobably wasn't actually the bones of devils. But Hell didn't *export* souls. Devils didn't trade them away. And they *certainly* didn't gamble them off.
I stared hard into those putrid, yellow eyes. An imposter? Or some Hellish trick?
One of the other players lifted a cage onto the table. Five scarabs, with violet shells. They glowed like candles.
Another raised a bottle to the table. "Strangling Willow," she said. Absinthe. It was probably stoppered with cork, and that was held in place with wax and metal. The liquid seemed to writhe inside the bottle.
I threw a plate of lead onto the table, my eyes locked on the Devil's. I knew on the tablet a sigil had been etched with acid. Were it written on paper, the paper would have burned to nothing. As it was, the lead melted more often than was convenient. The sigil meant "The Unraveling of Schemes through Deliberate Pursuit by their Target." The Devil's mouth quirked itself into a grin.
Devils did not gamble away souls. And I was reasonably certain this was not an imposter. Meaning the cards had almost certainly rigged in the Devil's favor, and that soul was not truly at risk. It wasn't entirely surprising. We were playing cards with a Devil, and anyone with sense knew to never trust Hell. Even if they had an embassy.
I had, of course, also tampered with the cards. But I was doubtful I could best a Devil in trickery.
I looked down at my cards. They were decent, but there were plenty of hands that could beat them.
I looked up again, my eyes slowly raking across the table. The surfacer was slowly counting out coins. It was generally considered poor form to bet the Bazaar's currency at these games, but we had all agreed to give him some slack. His hands were shaking. I put my hand on his once there was half an Echo on the table.
"Fifty pence is good." He nodded, and looked back down to his cards.
If it came down to it, I could throw the absinthe at the devil. That would keep it busy long enough for me to kill the other two, at least for a while. After that, I gave myself even odds against the devil in a fight. And the surfacer knew to bolt for the next room if things turned violent.
"Well then," the Devil's voice wrapped around my throat like silk, "shall we?"
And we revealed our cards. | "Is it yours?" I asked. "What?" I tapped the vial, minute swirls and eddies rippling away from the gentle impacts. "This soul, here, now -- is it yours?" He crossed his arms, leaned back. "Of course it is, I own it, how else could I bet it?" I frowned, and tried one last time. "Is this, in fact, the soul that you, Mark, were created with?". Mark nodded, finally, in understanding. "No, it's not. It's a soul that I acquired elsewhere." I sighed. "Then we're not interested. Right guys?" The rest of the heads, one by one, indicated assent. "But I tell you what, Mark: yours will do. You still in?" | 2019-05-12T13:51:13 | 2019-05-12T06:31:48 | 26 | 13 |
[WP] You are the Chosen One. The Dark Overlord is currently trying to seduce you to their cause. To their great surprise, you accept almost immediately because you absolutely loathe your job and your companions. | Some people call me a magic user. Others a wizard. I’ve even been called a “temperamental bitch with powers”. I say I’m just a sucker with student loans.
My brothers, they’re the lucky ones. One was naturally good with this shit, aced everything, got scholarships, paid even to go to magic school. The other was blessed by a fucking god for trying so hard to be a decent brawler. Then there’s me. First born, first to fail at everything. I studied hard, I did my best, but it made no difference. Yeah, I passed. But at the cost of doing veritable slave work for the rest of my life.
I’d say I love my job if my coworkers weren’t so fucking vulgar and stupid. Actually, I wouldn’t. The clients are just as bad. Because here’s the thing they never tell you about adventuring- unless the gods are smiling on you, it’s one bullshit “Karen lost her keys again” fetch quest after another. Never any thank you’s or recognition, just another job search.
And then there’s my coworkers.
You never know who you’re going to get paired with on a job. Sometimes, if it’s big enough, you can get a party together. Those are normally okay. But most of the smaller ones I do involve Jerry. Fucking Jerry and his flirting, pouting when he gets rejected again (mostly by me) and drinking what funds we’re given to complete the quests away. I swear he requests to go on all of my missions. Probably just to be a pain in my ass.
If I could quit I would. I’ve always thought that, and loathed the next 40 fucking years I’m stuck doing this. Contemplating going back to school to become a professor instead.
And then he showed up.
He called himself Tom. Showed up on the night of my 25th birthday, said I was the chosen one. Chosen for what, I have no fucking clue. He had a devilish smile, and pulled a lot of the same flirtation tactics Jerry always would. Tom was better at them though.
We were sat in a corner booth at the local bar, chatting and laughing when he finally decided to explain a bit more.
“As I mentioned, you’re the Chosen One.” He’d said this while I was mid-sip of a nice mug of Stonepiss. Only thing Dwarves do right.
Setting the mug down, I’d chuckled. “Yeah, you mentioned. Doesn’t mean a fucking thing to me though.”
“Well, it means that in the coming years as light and dark truly begin to clash, you’ll be at the center of it, and will decide the fate of everyone around us.” With a sweep of his hand, he’d motioned to the rest of the bar. It was only then that’d I’d noticed no one was moving, not even breathing.
“So you’re some really powerful dick that’s here because?” I had pointed to a random person as if to signal that I was finally aware of the situation. Well, mostly. Probably should have stopped a mug ago.
“Because I want you to join the darkness and our cause.” He had looked apprehensive, as if prepared to cast a spell if needed.
After a few moments of silence, I’d simply laughed. His apprehension melted into confusion, and I did my best to quell my mirth. “Yeah, sure, as long as I’m debt free for it.”
“You- wait, what?” He’d stared at me, flabbergasted and sputtering for words. “I- yes, you wouldn’t have debt! But how is that relevant? They said I would need to persuade you, tempt you with riches and power, the ability to command armies-”
I’d put up a hand to shut him up and slammed back the rest of my drink, wincing in the slightest. Then, with a grin, I’d said, “Listen kid, I just want to not pay off my loans anymore.” He’d pulled a face when I called him a kid, but I continued regardless. “Fucking tired of it already, and I’m only 4 years out. Fuck Jerry, fuck Karen, and fuck being some heroine if it means I can’t enjoy life for what it is. Y’know?”
He’d nodded numbly, and toyed with his own mug, a lighter ale I can’t remember the name of. He’d looked unsure of what to do next.
So I had stood, walked to his side of the booth, and grasped his shoulder in a friendly way, leaning down to whisper, “If you’ll excuse me, I’d like to go get food and finish my birthday nicely. Whenever I wake up tomorrow, feel free to find and take me wherever it is you need me to get this shit rolling. Yeah?”
With another nod from him, I’d strutted off to my favorite diner, braid swaying with my unsure movements, and smiled as the world seamlessly continued where it had left off.
And when Tom made good on his deal the next morning, I’d simply asked where I needed to sign.
First one to fail at everything, yeah? | “Your numbers are not very impressive, Lysander. The Board believes you have reached a plateau and that is time to freshen things up.” I shared the Boards’ feedback with my boss while steel kept clashing with steel.
“How dare you criticize my work, Sylvanus?! I took you in when no one would face you, I molded you to my image, I taught you how to tame your darkness; you belong to me” he answered with the same dark glare he used the first time we met. Flurry met parry and a slash to my arm managed to mutilate the sleeve off my suit and make blood trickle.
“This is what we’re talking about. According to our polls, the Kingdom is no longer scared of you. Your terror tactics are dated and people have grown accustomed; and while not many have the initiative of actually engaging, most are becoming indifferent. Even your scowl, it’s not threatening anymore, I even find it endearing”. The distraction succeeded in leaving him open to being disarmed.
As I pressed the tip of the sword against his neck, he couldn’t keep a question to himself. “And you think you can do a better job?”
“I am their Chosen One, aren’t I?” To the board I’d tell them of a precise cut that severed the tyrant’s head cleanly. But to honor my mentor’s memory I took decided to slowly hack at his head with the blunt edge of the blade and use the time to pay my respects.
As the clock in my new office marked noon, an assistant came in, helped me disrobe and led me to a pool with warm water. As I bathed and another subordinate stitched my injuries, the Board members briefed me on the schedule for the rest of the day.
Elegantly dressed, adorned with sober, yet powerful regalia, I took the stage. “Members if the Plutonic Society and Elite, today we embrace change. Our leader Lord Lysander has chosen to retire himself. The scum out there will rejoice, thinking their suffering is over. But fear not. The Board of Oracles has stated that I, Sylvanus, VP of the Elite, step up to be the new head of our Society.”
“As your new leader I promise: We will take this entitled, self-absorbed vermin, build up their hopes and dreams, and when they least expect it, crush them from within. The Time of Fear, Lysander’s reign, has come to a close. Starting today, together we will bring forth a new Age of Despair, the era of Sylvanus. And we will make them pay” | 2019-09-26T09:52:27 | 2019-09-26T07:44:38 | 31 | 14 |
[WP] You are a time-traveler whose power only allows them to go back in time, for exactly one minute. Using this ability, you've always said what people want to hear, never messed up in public, given yourself endless do-overs...until you meet someone with the power to see one minute into the future. | People cannot typically comprehend just how severe an affect the smallest of changes in a situation can have on the future. I can. I live out hundreds of potential futures every waking minute and have done so for years. I have found it most beneficial to relive each of those minutes until I get them just right. I alter my route to the bathroom each morning, avoiding the groggy stub of a toe. I brush my teeth until I am sure they are all cleaned perfectly. I shower efficiently and effectively. I co-ordinate my clothes just right. I toast bread until it is the perfect golden brown. I consume food more than once, to both enjoy it for longer and to avoid a mess. I take the perfect route to work, avoiding all traffic. I avoid annoying office acquaintances. I finish my work in half the time it would normally take. I correct my jogging form. I purposely run into beautiful women "by chance" and say the perfect things to them.
"Hey please stop that." The beautiful red head I had run into today during my jog said. I was extremely confused. I quickly backtracked in an attempt to figure out what I was doing and or said that was incorrect.
"You're doing it again, please stop." She smiled a bit painfully.
"Again? I'm sorry, have we met?" I inquired, I had jumped back a minute.
"Yes, a minute from now. Please stop changing the future with so little care." Her smile relaxed and she looked into my eyes. Hers were an electric green that sped up my heartbeat.
We tapped our glasses together. A fine white Chardonnay from 87, my favorite. I had spent hours at a wine tasting, resetting, to find the flavor that most appealed to me.
"So you can see a minute or so into the future?" I inquired. A smile had been plastered to my face and I could do nothing to remove it.
She sipped her wine, rolling it around in her mouth. A look of concentration overtook her easy face. She smiled as well. "That's how it is yes. Ever since I was a girl I could see a little bit of what was to come. It made my life very confusing. I would answer questions that hadn't been asked yet!" We both laughed. "And you? You can jump back around a minute and change your future decisions?" She asked.
The waiter broke in and set down our plates. I was to have a nice cut of steak, medium, lightly seasoned and extremely tender. She had the grilled chicken salad.
"I noticed I had the ability at my fourth grade spelling bee. The nervousness must have set me off. When the prompter asked me to spell Triangulate for the fourth time is about when I figured it out. Of course I won." I didn't like the ball in my court so much. I wanted to know more about her. "How did you notice, when we first met?" She had asked me not to use my ability when near her, and I had complied. Her presence was worth living in the moment for.
"My ability is always active. I don't know how to turn it off. I have learned over time to discern which time is real and which is the future, but it takes a lot of concentration. When you got close to me and reset, the future changed. Basically you gave me a headache the minute I met you." She smiled and chuckled. It was an easy soft thing that made me gasp for breath.
For the first time in her life, she felt a sort of nervous. Rachel had always known what was going to happen, and when she was with him, she could not see for certain. This made her apprehensive yet excited. The tedium of always knowing left the mysteries of life solved and done with. She focused on her future and saw him in it. For some reason this made her giddy. She decided that a shake up in her future was worth it.
For the first time in his life, he felt a sort of nervous. Addison had always figured out the perfect things to say to win a person over. When he was with her, he was going in blind. This made him apprehensive yet excited. The ease of which he could pick up women before left the challenges of life easy to complete. He contemplated his past and could not see a better version of it without her. The butterflies in his stomach turned over and over, but it was a sort of feeling that left him warm. He decided that messing up a little bit was worth it, if he could see her smile each and every minute.
| It was a normal day, as far as normal days could go. The 8am alarm rang, telling you it was time to get up as you wearily turned back time by a minute. The alarm rang again, and you turned back time by another minute. This went on for approximately 30 minutes. 8:30 mentally, and 8:00 am physically, you got out of bed. Brushed your teeth, showered and went about your day, in the life of a doctor. However, today was a special day. For in those 30 minutes, a child had been born. A child, who; every time you turned back time by 1 minute, saw 1 more minute into the future. Tallying up the minutes to 30.
You reach the hospital, lost in your own time zone, waiting for the day to be over, the beeping and moans of the patients asking for their pills muffled every second. However today, one sound stuck out to you. It was a sweet sound, a happy sound of hope and longing. You had heard it before, but it was as though this time it reminded you of something. A time, long forgotten where you had no care in the world, but what you would see today.
You go about your day, totally transfixed with your day to day tasks, which had become something of a routine. Until the sound was gone. The hope and longing disappeared once more. Replaced now by a reminder of what was. That you were here, as long as there were people to care. The sweet sound, rang like your alarm clock, every 30 minutes. Wake up. Wake up. You have to get to work. You rushed from room to room. Carrying, tagging, bagging, zipping. Taking the elevator down, tallying up another to inform.
Then you could take it no more. No matter how far back you went, the alarm still rang on time. Telling you it was time to go.
| 2016-08-20T12:31:28 | 2016-08-20T11:02:00 | 30 | 10 |
[WP] You picked up an injured cat and patched it up overnight. The next morning, you woke up to see a family of witches standing beside your bed, and one of them is holding the injured cat in her arms. That witch said, “My cat wants to adopt you. So you’re now one of us.” | "What? I mean, I heard you, but... this is the last thing I was expecting. Who are you?" I pulled the blanket up over my bare shoulders.
Three women stood beside my bed. One of them, a short woman with curly brown and green hair, was holding the little black cat I'd taken in last night.
"My name is Terra Moirai. I'm a witch who draws power from the earth. The cat you saved is Billie, my familiar." She gave me a warm smile.
Behind her, a tall and stout woman with white and blue hair waved. "I'm Luna, Terra's mother. I command the water and the wind with the power of the moon. You did a good thing last night, Jeff."
"How'd you know my name?" I rubbed my eyes.
"You left your name tag on your scrubs." The third woman piped up.
"Makes sense."
She continued. "My name is Phoenix, I'm Luna's sister. I work with the element of fire and the power of healing." She looked older than the other two women, wiry and strong, with a ginger braid falling down her back.
"Welcome to the family!" Luna patted me on the shoulder.
"Wait, what does this mean? I'm a grown man. I've never been adopted before. What's your plan?"
"The cat adopted you," Terra explained. "You're one of us. Ideally, you'd move into our family home, still in Lakewood, and be sort of a cousin to me and a nephew to Mom and Phoenix."
I rolled over onto my back and looked up at the ceiling. The crack had grown bigger. The water damage was still there. The light fixture was full of dead bugs. I was about to sign another lease anyway, because I couldn't afford anything else on a vet tech salary, not in this rental market.
Luna spoke. "You'd still work at your job and keep your friends and do what you want, of course."
"How do you know I'm not a creep?"
"Billie told us," Terra said plainly. "A witch's familiar is more than an ordinary cat. She can look inside your heart and see hope, compassion, struggle, and humility."
"Did she see all the diabetes?" Couldn't resist a wisecrack.
"She did say you were ill," Luna said.
Phoenix walked up to the bed and put the back of her hand on my cheek. She turned to the other two witches. "Terra, please set Billie on the bed. Luna, will you please go to the fridge and get Jeff a glass of juice so he can get his day started? It's a big one, and he needs more vitality than he has."
"Wait, is my sugar low?"
Terra put Billie on the bed. Despite the splint on Billie's front paw, she could get around well enough to plop down on my chest and hold me in place.
Once I was pinned down, the witches scattered. Luna raided the fridge and got me a glass of orange juice. She set it on the nightstand and went right back to the kitchen. Phoenix was in the bathroom, rummaging through the medicine cabinet and chanting something that I didn't understand.
Terra tossed me a t-shirt. Billie hobbled down from my chest to my legs so I could sit up and put the shirt on. I downed the orange juice in one gulp.
"Hey Terra?"
"Yeah?" Terra had completely emptied my dresser already, and was stuffing all my clothes into a big suitcase.
"I haven't agreed to move yet! What would I need to do? Like, what would I pay in rent? And what would I do around the house?"
"The house is paid for, Aunt Phoenix owns it outright. You'd pay $400 a month into the household account for utilities and groceries and repairs. And you'd be a good housemate. Clean up after yourself, pick a chore or two in common areas to do whenever it needs to be done, take a shower every day, wear clothes. No fires outside of the fireplace, no summoning indoors, tell the housemates if you're gonna summon a major demon."
"WHAT?!"
Terra shrugged. "It's kinda jarring to wake up at midnight and see one of your relatives performing the Great Rite with Baphomet in the backyard without any warning, you know?"
I didn't even have an answer to that.
"Anyway, it's all just common courtesy stuff." She zipped up the suitcase. "The house is big, it's a little old but it's in great shape. Nothing like this place."
"What if I change my mind?"
"You'll still be one of us. But like you said yourself, you're a grown man." She pulled a wand from the belt tied around her dress, using it to direct my Funko Pop figures from the top of my bookshelf down to the ground. "We can't keep you. We can only tell you that you have a place with us, care for you, and treat you like family."
My face fell. They'd better not treat me anything like my real family did.
"Like good family!" Terra laughed.
I still hadn't agreed to go with them. It seemed like they knew as well as I did that I wanted to, though. Life had been beating me down lately... maybe this is what I needed.
Billie looked up at me and gave me a long, slow blink.
"Thanks, kitty." | I feel like I should be asleep. But something keeps touching my nose. My eyes slide open, peering at a black mass in front of me, its eyes bright yellow and its fuzzy little head cocked at an angle. Oh good its just the cat. My eyes close again and I roll over on my other side, trying to get some sleep.
Wait, I don't have a cat.
The thought arcs through my body and I jolt awake. Spinning around to the new foreign feline friend. It seems as confused as I am. I glace over at my clock, 3:27, ofcourse its gotta be this early on a work day. My attention refocused on the cat. Why is there a cat in my bed? Had I bought a cat while I was drunk? Where would I have gotten the money to but a cat? This is why I leave my credit cards at home when I drink!
Then it hits me. Oh yea, as I was coming home from the falafel stand I saw a cat crying by the side of the road. It split its paw and forleg pretty bad, and so I brought it home and wrapped it up. The little bandage made out of my shirt sleeve is still on there. Why did I use my shirt sleeve?
My brain is all foggy and I've only gotten two and a half hours of sleep, if I feed the cat then it should leave me be and I can try to sleep off this hangover. "Well hey cutie, are you hungry? Need something to eat?"
" So it appears that you can speak."
My attention leaps over to the source of the sound. Which appears to be three women and a toddler sitting in remarkably nice chairs.
"Where did you get thoes chairs! And who are you!"
The three women glance at eachother, and then begin to giggle, then chuckle, untill they are full on cackling. "Where did we get the chairs?" The middle one says in more of a statement then a question. She glances down two the two shorter women besid her. " I told you this one would be interesting." The woman to her right, holding back laughter say " How is that your first question?"
"Well" I reply cautiously " thoes aren't my chairs, and this is a fourth floor apartment, so I wondered how you got them here" then then eldest, the one holding the toddlers eyes open wider. "I see Rosemary, quite interesting indeed." " To answer you question I think a demonstration would be sufficient" the three women stood up and their chairs, somehow, fell into their shadows. They began in unison " We are practitioners of the oldest knowledge, and after having been chosen by the deamon, and by ourselves, we have a proposition for you young lady"
"Would you like to learn something, magical?" | 2020-12-05T07:49:13 | 2020-12-05T07:08:24 | 49 | 32 |
[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. | The towers were under siege. The walls were falling. The Philka were pouring through the outer gates. Their siege cannons pounded on the shields of the keep.
"Defend the Queen!" yelled the captain of the guard. Gathering what remained of the force rifles, the soldiers arranged themselves at the windows, firing down on the Philka ground troops. A few were knocked down, but their armor was far too strong. They weren't dying.
In the throne room, Queen Tehana watched the skies. Soon the *Swiftfoot* would return. It would bring either help or nothing. Her counselors had warned her against contact with the blue planet, but she had been left with no choice. Now, she saw that it scarcely mattered. the Philka had found some material on their conquest that made their armor impenetrable. They had no need of shields, and their plasma throwing siege cannons cast glowing balls of death through the skies. The Phika themselves preferred to kill with their sharp blades. What help could anyone give, least of all a people with only one planet.
She stepped out onto the balcony as the Philka arrayed themselves before the keep. Her troops were all that stood between the enemy and the innocent. The boom of a wormhole drew everyone's attention to the sky. The *Swiftfoot* had returned. Everyone saw the result of its mission. It was alone.
Her men steeled themselves for the final attack as the Philka began chanting their war song. They were preparing to charge. The Queen, however didn't take her eyes of the sky. She had seen something else. A shimmer of light. Something had entered the atmosphere. Something small. There were more shimmers.
Something large and metal slammed into the ground, right in the middle of the Philka. The impact sent them flying away and brought the chant to a halt. The sound of more impacts sounded all around.
In a flash, they were among the troops, with roaring weapons and swift movements. They were not using energy weapons, nor swords. They had something else. Then a whine of engines sounded as some kind of tiny ship flew into view, spinning, then hovering over the battlefield. The buzz of its weapons drowned out all else.
The Philka were dying. Not one by one in battle, but en mass. They were not being pushed back, they were being slaughtered.
The Queen's troops were frozen in shock. They had never seen such death, even among the Philka. The new soldiers annihilated the enemy, then approached the keep.
They were efficient, wasting no time as they cleared the towers and secured the Queen. One asked in perfect Kandarian, "Where are the civilians located?"
"In the city, behind the heavy shields." said the Queen.
The soldier nodded, then spoke into a communicator of some kind.
It happened then.
As if the sky had split open to reveal it, a monolith appeared in the sky. It was a massive ship, dwarfing the *Swiftfoot* as it slowly moved across the sky. It's enormous siege cannons fired on the Philka ships, tearing them apart with ease. Then the guns turned to the land forces.
"Is this Earth's warfare?" asked the Queen, a hint of disdain in her voice.
"Yes." said the human, "And soon, your war will be over." he pointed towards the shielded city. "They only live because of that warfare."
"I wonder how long before we are overwhelmed by you humans." mused the queen, "How long before I regret this decision."
The human stopped and stared at her. "Seriously?" he said, "We just saved your life and you're already pulling this? You have nothing we need apart from FTL tech. You're army was defeated by *iron armor* for god's sake. How the hell you invented space travel with so few natural resources, we'll never know."
"So few.." said the queen, "You mean you have more?"
"Don't worry, your majesty." said the human as he walked away, "It's a big galaxy, you won't have to deal with us if you don't want to."
"Wait." said the Queen as she followed him, "What natural resources *do* you have?"
EDIT: Story continued [Here](https://www.reddit.com/r/Capntal/comments/2qjh3k/the_nomads_part_i/) | Before this rock became our home, we were glorious. Our race had risen to great heights, ruling over dozens of systems with a regal countenance unsullied by lesser races. We had avoided conflict for such a long time. Once we met *them*, however, we had no say in the matter. Never did we think that they would stoop so low, but the blow was dealt before we were even aware it was coming.
We were the D'razi, the High Rulers of the Elion Nebula; the Jyumens called it the "Horse Head" nebula. These creatures were so simple-minded, but even we couldn't help admiring their imagination. Their weapons were brutally simple and barbaric, but devastatingly powerful. The most fearsome future would be one in which they rivaled the greatest armies in the universe. Of course, we didn't consider them dangerous. How could they harm us without the capacity to travel outside their own laughably small system? Their expansion and consumption within its bounds, however, still gave us cause for alarm. We thought the Serubin would see this and accept our proposal that would end the conflict, but they seemed to ignore the danger the Jyumens presented.
So here we live on a desolate waste, surrounded by this plague. The Jyumens were nothing if not resourceful. None of us expected them to corner us and imprison us, let alone in such a place as this. Even worse, the pitiful Serubin, our new neighbors, were helping us adapt to this ravaged world. If we hadn't pushed them so far, if we had only stopped our takeover of their worlds, they may never have asked these monsters for help. Now, Earth is our prison.
OT: First WP, C&C very welcome! | 2014-12-26T10:20:12 | 2014-12-26T10:14:28 | 260 | 35 |
[WP] The elder gods looks to us the same way we look to cockroachs. What means that they are irrationally scared of us. |
Never before in R’lyeh’s slimy, grimy, and unceasing eons, had a pest as disgusting as a human infiltrated it.
But despite the sunken city’s remote location, the humans had come. Even Great Cthulhu, now sitting petrified ph'nglui h' wgah'nagl, knew that it was inevitable. No amount of repellent and deterrents—sunken ships, sirens, or human spray—could stop the irritant that was the two-legged plague.
“Byatis,” Cthulhu whispered, a mere tremor in the Earth’s crust. “Do you see that… human?!”
Byatis, squatting like an overweight frog, scoffed.
“Human? There’s no way. We keep this place so miry, there’s no way—”
And his sole eye settled on the disgusting biped.
And nothing in this world was prepared for his quivering mass jolting away at lightning speed, his one eye swivelling hysterically while his beard of gross serpents flapped like hummingbird wings. The shriek that emanated from his was so terrible and unknowable, a vile auditory poison that would worm its way into a human mind and destroy it from within.
Cthulhu’s imposing figure stood still, bouts of fear striking the Elder One like so many harpoons. Every arm, every tentacle, and each wing froze like time consumed by a black hole, and an earthquake-low, dreadful whine seeped out from his abominable mouth.
The human chittered and chattered, its revolting mouth gabbing up and down. Both Cthulhu and Byatis felt the intense need to puke.
“You! Byatis! Go and whack it!” Cthulhu cried.
“What do you mean? Hell no! I’m not going anywhere near that thing!” Byatis moaned. “You do it! Go hit it!”
The human tilted its head, and started clambering towards Cthlhu.
“Oh god, it looks so disgusting,” Cthulhu’s horrific tentacles waved frantically as he backed up and bumped heavily into the table, the pot of seaweed tea splashing onto the floor. Out of desperate necessity, the Great One grabbed the empty vessel, smashing it down with a force so abrupt that it caused an immediate tsunami above R’lyeh.
The human was utterly broken, bent more out of shape than a toothpick after Byatis was done with it. But it refused to die, croaking a few final, unintelligible words, before finally expiring.
“You throw it out,” Cthulhu said.
“What?” Byatis began to protest.
“You didn’t do anything except shiver! Get that thing out of my sight,” Cthulhu said firmly.
“Fine,” Byatis grumbled, gingerly moving over to pick up the corpse, quickly flicking it out into the open sea.
“How did that thing get in here anyway?” Cthulhu said. “I’ve sealed everything!”
“I’ve heard rumblings in the realm above,” Byatis whispered. “They said the humans… evolved. Ever wondered why lesser ships pass by now?”
Cthulhu shook his great head.
“They have planes, now,” Byatis said, grave as a tombstone. “Mechanical wings, that enable to fly.”
“By Azatoth. What do you mean, humans can fly?”
And on that day, the two primordial horrors felt fear seep into their gloomy heart of hearts, like dark sediment trickling into the deepest ocean bed.
---
r/dexdrafts | "Mom! There are humans in my pillow!"
The thunderous voice of the Elder daughter resonated through the galaxy, detected by those with the means to do so as gravitational waves. Her fear was understandable, she was only 5 billion years old, after all.
"Gross, where?".
"There, in the edge, on that rock"
"Let me get your father. Honey!"
Incorporeal to the normal eye but massive, a figure cultures across the universe had unknowingly written songs about approached the shiny spinning pillow of her daughter, with an open palm.
"Daddy, what if they are type that can fly?"
"Don't worry honey, I'll get them before you can say heat death of the universe"
Suddenly, out of the rock, a space ship was launched to the atmosphere. Aboard, humanity's best and brightest, a testament to what international cooperation and a fierce passion for science and the progress of mankind can achieve. The spaceship landed on Mars, becoming the very first to do so, ushering a new era of discovery.
"Oh, oh that's nasty. Sweetie, why don't you take another pillow?" | 2022-01-03T09:04:46 | 2022-01-03T08:57:53 | 335 | 142 |
[WP] You're an evil wizard. However, most of your spells are pun based. | They came for me just before dawn.
I suppose I should have expected it. I'd been terrorizing the surrounding countryside for several months, using the abandoned old keep in the hills as my base of operations, and I'd expected to squeeze several more months' worth of enjoyment out of the arrangement.
After all, it wasn't as if I needed the money or food. I'm a *wizard* for Beelzebub's sake!
Unfortunately for me, a band of adventurers happened through, and, predictably, one of the stupid peasants blabbed to them. I'd found and set fire to the plebeian, of course, but the damage was already done. Soon, I found nearly every attempt at fun spoiled by those meddling do-gooders, and it quickly grew irritating beyond belief. It would have been best if I could have just eliminated the troublesome group, and then sought retribution from the nearby villagers (it'd been simply *ages* since I'd done the angered demigod routine). But you never can tell when a group of adventurers has an actual Chosen One along for the ride, and there was no way *I* was going to be the sacrificial one that showed the hero's true destiny.
No, it was better to just move on, and I had been in the process of preparing for just that when the heroes showed up at my tower.
Usually they sent a barbarian in, first. Something about the big oafs' wild eyes and threatening demeanor. This band, though, they sent a dwarf. Oh, he--or was it a she--was heavily armed and armored, to be certain, but it was obvious that the adventurers were clueless as to the source of my power.
When the dwarf burst through the door, charging at full speed, I cocked an eyebrow and stood my ground. When I had barely a scant few feet left, I summoned power into me and said, "My, aren't you a *little prick*."
The dwarf let out something that sounded like, *Urrk,* and collapsed in a skidding heap of foul smelling hair and armor, pierced by thousands of unseen blades, and bleeding out all over a very nice Valerian carpet I'd picked up a century or so back.
*That* pissed me off.
With a gesture, I called my staff to me, the crystals interwoven into the spelled wood glaring an angry red to match my mood. As I strode through the doorway, I picked up a medium-sized crystal ball in my off hand, and stood imperiously on its far side for effect.
Eight more adventurers were waiting for me in the small courtyard, all with weapons raised. It was more than I'd anticipated, but I figured, *Why not give it a try,* and crushed the crystal ball in my hand, releasing the power stored there.
''I bet you're all just *dying* to find out if that worked."
Six of them dropped to the stone, dead, in a clatter of armor and weapons as the magic energy, channeled by my words, snuffed out their light.
I couldn't help but comment. "*Six* at once, eh? A new record!"
The two remaining heroes only hesitated long enough to glance at one another, before shouting battlecries and charging.
The one on the left wore some impressive, if outdated armor, and was shouting something that sounded like an old Sumerian Guardsman's challenge. I can't *stand* the whole, 'Ancient armor of my father's father's father's,' bit, and went for him first. He saw me angle for him, and swung his sword in a sloppy, undisciplined arc at me. I dodged the haphazard blow easily, darting to one side with a bit of mirthful laughter.
''Come, come, boy! You'll never get *a-head* with swordplay like that!"
His wild arc had him off balance, and just a bare tickle of magic was all that was required to fling a rock underneath one of his feet. He slipped on it comically as I faded into the shadows of the courtyard, then landed *on* his sword, decapitating himself in a truly amazing font of blood.
Sticking to the shadows, I crept silently through them until I was poised, waiting, when the sole survivor backed towards the courtyard's exit. With barely a murmur of cloth, I stepped out of my hiding place and whispered, "*Rectum? Damn near* killed *him.*" | Im going to take a crack at this, constructive criticism is welcome, thanks in advance! It's been a while since I wrote anything, so excuse the spelling/grammar errors.
The Lacerating Linguist is what they used to call me. Aeons have passed since I last heard that name, but I guess that's what time does to ones reputation. Unlike the other bookworms who call themselves wizards, my power stems from witty remarks and snide comments.
The last battle I've had was with the Warlock of white. His name may be dumb, but his spells were no laughing matter. Mine on the other hand are as punny as they are dangerous. The warlock charged at me with a conjured weapon, and sliced my arm open.
"That stings, allow me to return the favour!" I proclaimed, as I summoned a swarm of bees.
The warlock easily took care of my swarm with little balls of fire. "Really bringing the heat huh Warlock? This will cool you down! " I spoke as I countered his flameballs with shards of ice. The Warlock dodged all shards with a nifty backflip, and charged at me again.
"I've never fallen for the same trick twice, and I wont start now" I said, as the ground beneath him opened up to form a pit. The Warlock plunged a few feet down, only to emerge with grand angel-like wings. "Nifty trick warlock, but I prefer my wings roasted!" as I launched my own balls of flame towards his wings.
A direct hit, and the warlocks wings burned to a crisp as he fell to the earth. "Dont worry, I'll catch you! " I yelled as a giant hand sprouted from the earth and caught the Warlock. "Looks like your blood is on my hand" as my mighty earthen hand reduced the Warlock to a red mist.
"Rest in pieces warlock" I whispered.
| 2018-04-21T08:20:36 | 2018-04-21T08:11:36 | 102 | 23 |
[WP] You live in a world where every time you have a birthday, you get to level up a skill like in video games (intelligence, strength, charm etc.) most people spread their points evenly on each skill. But you put all 30 of your points into that one skill nobody cares about
You get to choose what that skill is. | As my thirtieth birthday came I happily put one more point into my only skill. Not that anyone would notice. See everyone always asks what skills did I put that allowed me in the end to build such an easy life for myself, and I just smile and tell them that it's my little secret. See in the list of skills and their derrivatives and different effects most people spread them across base attributes. Now this doesn't mean one who does not have high intelligence cannot be smart, it more effects natural gifts and abilities towards each ones various ranges.
&#x200B;
I was ten like anyone else when my skills were unlocked and I was allowed to begin building myself. I scrolled through the list, the base attributes at the top, most popular specialized skills right below them. You were allowed when on the screen to test your point and get a feel for what it might be, but once you locked in that was it, you were locked with those skills. I was scrolling towards the bottom of the list, boredom reading the oddest most out of place and useless skills. I must have taken so long my parents started worrying cause I remember hitting the bottom and finding the oddest thing, a skill labeled Magic. Now this confused me cause I remember finding and testing magic tricks way earlier on the list. Hesitantly I dropped a skill point into it and suddenly I felt two things, an otherworldly energy flow through me and knowledge how to do a few effects such as moving small things with my mind and creating little illusionary scenes in my hands or on the table.
&#x200B;
The strangest thing were two other senses with that power, one that it was almost forbidden like someone wanted it forgotten; and the other was feeling like it was almost an addiction. As my parents began knocking asking me if I needed help I quickly did the unthinkable and instead of spreading my points I dumped everything into magic and locked it in. As I exited my room to prepare for the day my parents smiled and asked how I spread my skills and putting on my best innocent smile I said it was "My little secret."
&#x200B;
Shortly afterwards I realized why it was forbidden and almost purposefully forgotten and hidden. With magic there was no need for any other skill. My senses improved just from feeling the currents of mystical energies around me, I had spells that could increase my physical attributes to be inhuman levels if I so wished, school became easy as I used spells such as clairvoyance to show me what I needed to know. It also seemed the magical energies flowing through my body itself attracted people to me. As I leveled it up every year after I felt both my power grow and my knowledge of what I could do expand. The only downside was some difficulties I had with electronics, but that was small change compared to the abilities that were only limited by my imagination.
&#x200B;
I was careful though, after the initial shock at ten I realized to dial it back once people were wondering if I had extra skill points to burn or such. I never let myself seem perfect in anything, but always well gifted, making sure to use my powers to fog minds and change things when people seemed to catch on I wasn't a balance build. I was set up for an easy life and knew it, but with magic I always needed more and every level I gained went there, eventually becoming inconceivable to put a point anywhere else.
&#x200B;
Now as I turned thirty and have maxed out the skill I know everything. If I wanted overnight I could become a god, I don't though, no instead I will cast the immortality spells and wait till another finds this skill then I will find them and train them. In the meantime the entire world is my plaything, and I can choose whatever playthrough I want.
&#x200B;
*Tell me what you think, I am always looking for input* | Nobody else believes in me, laughing at me and telling me I've wasted my life. They just don't understand. They look at me and think, 'There he goes, writing prompter. He'll never amount to anything.' But they just don't get it. I've devoted my life to inspiring others. It's not so simple a thing, to be the bedrock of creative expression itself. I am the muse!
I have spent so much of my life practicing my craft and honing my skills in order to give others the opportunity to break out of their shells. To see that they are capable of so much more than what they think they are. I am the inkwell of the heart of the face of the internet and it is my duty to never run dry.
They don't understand or believe, no matter how much I wish they did. This is my life's work and my duty to humanity. The legacy that I will leave behind is to support the legacy that others will leave behind. The power that I have is to empower those that need that small nudge towards greatness. Creation is a collaborative process and I devoted myself to that ideal.
Never forget, that though you may doubt me... I will never doubt you! | 2018-09-12T09:54:07 | 2018-09-12T07:01:42 | 74 | 20 |
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