prompt stringlengths 20 5.8k | chosen_story stringlengths 226 10k | rejected_story stringlengths 227 9.43k | chosen_timestamp timestamp[ns]date 2012-07-26 17:01:55 2022-12-31 14:34:19 | rejected_timestamp timestamp[ns]date 2012-07-26 14:23:36 2022-12-31 12:20:41 | chosen_upvotes int64 14 23.1k | rejected_upvotes int64 10 4.26k |
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[WP] The research facility has been overrun. A lone scientists barricaded in his office readies a pistol to take as many of them with him as he can, but is shocked to see he is a naturally extremely skilled shooter. He begins singlehandedly reclaiming the entire complex where the guards failed. | "Hold your fire, I repeat, hold your fire!!" the soldier at the front of the strike team yelled out, his gun still trained at the blood-soaked man standing in front of him, handgun in hand. When they breached the compound door, they expected many things - a lone researcher was not one of them.
"Oh," the man said with a tired voice, "Mr Harding, is that you under there?"
"Doctor Marchetti?!" the soldier yelled out with audible shock.
"Yes, yes, I- I apologize for my manners, it's just-" Marchetti said and turned around, yet his demeanour was off, slowly, sluggish, like he was in a daze.
"Get me a medic! Doctor, is anyone with you?"
"It's... not my blood," he chuckled slowly. "No, I... don't think, I- I was alone in my office, the gloomhags overrun the facility- there was a breach you see- I-" he said but stumbled forward, unable to stand properly.
"Doc, come on, sit," Harding said and helped the man. "Let me take the gun."
"The... gun? Oh, yes, yes, the... you know, I'm a better shot... than I thought. Maybe I missed... my calling," Marchetti said and slowly handed the soldier his firearm. It was splattered with blood and stank of gunpowder. It seemed that it was not only fired numerous times but used as a blunt weapon as well.
"Alright Doc," Harding continued, "let's get you looked at." He looked the man over and noticed his other hand was clenched tight to the point where the doctor's knuckles turned white. "What's in your other-"
"NO!" Marchetti yelled suddenly with far more vigour than expected, "no no you- you mustn't touch it! It's..." he slowly opened his hand and showed Harding the thus far tightly held brass pocket watch.
"A watch?" Harding said incredulously.
"7663-B," Marchetti said with a slight smile as he slumped back down, his outburst of energy taking its toll.
"Wait, that's-" Harding's face turned pale and he shifted slightly away from the doctor.
"I know... I know, Martin," Marchetti said quietly. "I just- I thought that I could help some of the survivors but there... were none."
Another soldier approached the duo.
"Sir, I need you to step back, I need to take a look at him," he said. Harding turned and saw the red cross on the soldier's uniform.
"I'm- uh, Jenkins, I-" Harding stuttered.
"What he means to say is that you can't help me, sir," Marchetti said. "Used the watch, you see?" he said and weakly lifted his hand. The medic looked at the two men confused.
"It's..." Harding croaked, "it's one of the unique items we store. Compresses the rest of your life into one hour. Gives you..."
"Speed and vigour of many years in one hour to fight off a tide of ugly critters," Marchetti chuckled. He looked at the watch. It was one minute 'till twelve.
"Is there anyone you want us to contact?" Harding solemnly asked.
"Everyone I knew here is dead," Marchetti said. "Just... Miss Laurits in HR, she recruited me."
"I know her, yes."
"Tell her not to blame herself," Marchetti continued. "I may have died here, but... because of the things I have seen here... I've lived as well."
Harding nodded and put his hand on Marchetti's shoulder.
"It's been a pleasure, Doc," Harding said.
"Don't let anyone touch... the watch..." Marchetti said and went limp. The brass timepiece slid out of his hand and hit the concrete floor with a metallic clang.
And the minute hand ticked to midnight. | The smell in the building was acrid, the creatures overrunning the facility having carried something foul with them as well as destroying dozens of vats holding dangerous fluids. Doctor Polmo sat with a gun in hand, staring at it in shock. He had emptied the entire clip, and every bullet met its mark in the head of a creature no matter how quickly it charged at him or how wildly it was flailing. He weighed the gun in hand, trying to see whether it had any special properties to it before crawling toward the deceased guard thrown into the room. He refilled ammo and peeked his head around the door that sat ajar ever-so-slowly, his breathing erratic as he witnessed more creatures on the far end of the hallway.
"Is... is anyone out there?" a quivering voice asked on the intercom. Doctor Linda. "I'm... Me and Doctor Ryans are sticking together, but we think we might be the last ones alive. But he's really hurt and the creatures are right outside. Please hurry, we're in the--"
The creatures were furious at the sound of the intercoms and dove at them, tearing them out of the ceiling and crushing them beneath their large feet. They lumbered around, searching for prey as they bared their silver, hungry teeth. Their eyes were a red glaze, watching for movement from any corner by darting their heads around maniacally as if trying to pop their necks, but not finding the right angles.
Doctor Polmo clicked the magazine of his gun shut, immediately startled by the ragged snarls of the creatures at the end of the hall. One began darting toward him while the other walked slowly, like a proper gentleman grizzly bear.
"Ah!" Doctor Polmo gasped as he trained his gun and fired in an instant, the first creature toppling, motionless. The second creature picked up its fallen ally and held it in front of his face, shielding him from a bullet.
Doctor Polmo didn't have the time to marvel at the intelligence displayed by the bloodthirsty thing lumbering toward him, only had the time to make a plan as fast as possible. He breathed deeply, ignoring the pungent odors filling the room, and shut the door behind him. He then ran to the back end of the small room and pointed his weapon at the closed door. He figured the creature would use the dead creature to break the door down, leaving him a moment to take it out.
The door bulged inward. Polmo swallowed, his shooting hand shaking. His sweat stung his cheek as it rolled down his face. Another indentation of the door. Polmo's eye twitched involuntarily. Then the door collapsed inward, the shine of the red eyes absorbing all of Polmo's focus.
*BANG!*
Just as he fired, the creature pulled the deceased body back to his face and protected himself. Polmo groaned for a moment then reevaluated his plan. He threw the gun toward one wall and ran to the other. When the sound of the gun made its way to the creature, it turned left whereas Polmo turned right. He slid behind it and grabbed the gun as it clattered to the floor. The creature threw the body at him as he fired, killing it, but was hit hard by the large dead projectile. The air was knocked out of him, but he was able to get to his feet after a few seconds, limping his way down the corridor.
He knew where Doctors Linda and Ryans were based on the only room with an intercom that wasn't already overrun. He stumbled his way over, his lungs screaming in pain as he finally had a moment to consider his before-unforeseen abilities with a gun. Was he always this good with a gun, or was there something with the creatures that made this latent ability come out? He had never fired a gun before today, and the harrowing events of watching friends and colleagues somehow made him hyper-focused. He didn't understand it as he climbed over another dead creature, the stench overwhelming.
He finally saw the room he was looking for, surrounded by five creatures scratching at the steel door. Polmo raised his weapon and fired four times before the gun clicked, out of ammo. He looked at the empty gun, then back to the single creature remaining standing and staring at him with its evil red gaze.
"Arrgghh! Booo!" Polmo raised his arms rapidly, trying to make himself seem bigger and scare the creature.
The creature acknowledged him and roared an ear-piercing scream, deafening one of Polmo's ears and he shrunk down to try and protect himself from the noise. The creature began to bound toward him like an eager, hungry dog and Polmo could only stumble backward in fear.
He threw the gun at the creature and the door behind the creature was thrown open, a woman in a gas mask stepped out and fired something rapidly at the creature. She missed most of them, but the last one landed. The creature tripped, turning around and pulling out a dart from its rear before another dart sprouted from its chest and it fell.
"Doctor Polmo!" Doctor Linda shouted at him. "Are you alright?"
"I'm alive!" Polmo coughed, struggling to stand and stumbling his way into the room.
"Are you... are you sure?" Doctor Linda asked, shocked.
"I'm sure... why?" Polmo asked.
"You're not wearing a mask!" Linda pointed to her covered face. "Your breathing in all the air."
"It's just fetid creature stink, right?" Polmo said, finally inside the room, the door closed behind them.
"If only. Most of our chemical vats were spread through the air. Your senses are probably really heightened, right?" Linda asked.
Polmo swallowed hard, his throat burning.
"I might have noticed something like that," Polmo agreed.
"That same thing never got out of testing because it'll burn your brain along with all the enhancements," Linda explained. She pointed to Doctor Ryans who Polmo only now noticed. He was unmasked and catatonic.
"This isn't much of a rescue, is it?" Polmo asked Linda as his vision started blurring.
"Not for me, it isn't," Linda sighed, refilling her dart gun as more creatures began scratching at the closed door.
________________________________________
/r/Nazer_The_Lazer | 2022-11-26T21:14:26 | 2022-11-26T19:17:03 | 1,217 | 304 |
[WP] You've lost your organs. Go find them. | They've done it, all right. It's a disaster. All of my organs, gone!
I'm not an unreasonable person, but I will call the police on this matter. It's more than just the loss of my lifeblood. Whoever did this has robbed me of my safety, my solace. My very sense of security!
Despite the seriousness of the situation, there is one thing that yet befuddles me: why did they not steal the pianos, too? | "GASP!!!"
William's head broke free of the ice cubes that trapped him in his porcelain prison. He shivered as his pickled flesh was exposed to the still air of a small dark room. Fear quickly began to manifest.
*Calm. Remember your training. Breathe.*
Easier thought than done. A thousand tiny needles pricked William's insides as he struggled to just get a morsel of oxygen into his lungs. He was hurt - bad. Though he didn't have the slightest idea why.
William took another tortured breath, and another, and soon he continued normal respiratory function. *That's it. Breathe. Calm. Get your bearings.*
Where *was* he? The darkened, closet-like space around him had finally taken shape. He was in a bathroom; not *his* bathroom, but a dingy motel lavatory, as best as he could tell. William was lying in a bathtub, submerged in ice. *And injured. Fuck.* At once, William instinctively felt along the sides of his body until he found them: sutures. Not particularly well stitched sutures, either. Just as he expected.
William hadn't undergone formal first aide training since West Point, though if he were to guess based on the position of his scars, he was missing a kidney. Maybe some other non-essentials as well. But William knew that whomever had put him there wasn't a gifted surgeon. If his organs were missing, he had a limited window to get them back before they died outside his natural incubator.
Taking another series of deep breaths, William prepared himself for the agonizing task of exiting the tub. *One leg at a time. Go on; left leg first.* Gritting his teeth, William moved his left leg out onto the cold linoleum floor, then his right, until finally he was able to stand up by putting the bulk of his weight on the towel rack in front of him. He collected himself from the exertion, then walked to the phone in the motel room.
He had no recollection of this place, but he instinctively walked in-between the two full beds to where the phone rested. He grabbed the pen and paper next to it.
"1) Tony"
It wasn't much of a list, but he knew where to start looking. Tony Capriani was a notorious loan shark and poker player -- one who William owed a considerable amount of money. *I guess he figured I wasn't good for it,* William thought. But this was no way to collect. And Tony picked a bad moment to go All In.
If it wasn't Tony... well, William didn't like his chances to find his kidney before it went bad. But he had a direction. He had a purpose. Now... he was on a mission to ***FILL BILL***.
| 2014-07-23T20:41:39 | 2014-07-23T20:23:38 | 37 | 16 |
[WP] A lone Spanish soldier lost in the deep jungles of South America stumbles upon the fountain of youth, but it's very different than anyone ever imagined. | I can't believe my luck, such a beautiful fountain. Here where I'd least expect it. I step in. Just to cool off from the heat. To clean up. I feel so wonderful! It's indescribable! My years have fallen aside and I'm young again. Really? Could this actually be happening? Wow! It's incredible! Amazing! I may just be able to hike back to civilization. To my friends. Family. As I step out, I feel older again. Maybe a little older than I was before. Perhaps a longer bath is required. Young again, I bathe! ... Out and older still. Back and young! Out, and older yet again.
I'm in the fountain.
I can't leave the fountain.
I'm very, very hungry.
Damn. | "I can't believe it."
The lone soldier walked towards the ancient monument, not quite able to comprehend the site before hiss eyes.
In front of him was a large, empty, square but with a small fountain in the middle. With a ring of purple fire surrounding it.
Gabriel knew instantly what he was looking at, even if he didn't know how he knew what it was. Sitting in front of him was the fountain of youth.
"I though it would be bigger" he mused, as he approached the fountain.
Gabriel stopped when he got ten feet away from the flames. The fire went all the way around the fountain, but it was only a foot thick. With a running start Gabriel hurled himself over the fire landing with a roll and pooping back up off the ground as he dusted himself off. Looking up he saw that there wasn't anything else between him and the fountain.
"That was easier than I thought it would be."
Cautiously, Gabriel walked towards the fountain, expecting at any moment for something to jump out and attack him. When he finally made it to the fountain he marveled at the elegance of this ancient structure. The water was crystal clear and to deep to see the bottom, the top of the fountain went up only four feet and wasn't very complicated. But in its simplicity lay its elegance. It had two layers with two floating cherubs pouring water out of the pots they were holding into the fountain. Just as he was going to scoop a mouthful of water into his mouth he heard a voice behind him rasp
"I wouldn't do that if I were you"
Gabriel was so startled he almost fell into the fountain. He whirled around to see an old man behind him, leaning heavily on his cane. The man said briskly
"Follow me, its the youth you want, right?"
"Yeah, why couldn't I drink that, that's the fountain of youth."
"No, that's poison. We use that to trick the people who try and get eternal life who don't deserve it" the man said as he walked through the fire like it wasn't even there.
Gabriel stopped when he saw that. "What about the fire?"
"I just use that to scare off the dumb and cowardly, the dumb wouldn't realize the fire is so thin and the cowardly wouldn't take the risk now follow me, quietly, I might add."
Without another word Gabriel followed the man to the end of the plaza and into the forest. After only a few minutes of walking the man stopped in front of a small stream.
"Here it is. The fountain of youth" As he said this he splayed his arms out for emphasis.
"Really, just this stream"
"Yeah, we used to have it at the fountain you were at, but to many people were getting immortality so we poisoned the old one and moved the water here"
"Why did you decide to save me then?" Gabriel asked confused.
"You seemed like a nice guy and I didn't want to see another person die this year goodbye." With that the old man left him.
"I guess this is it" Gabriel though to himself as he bent over the stream to drink some. He formed a cup with his hands and filed them with this mystical water. Taking one last breath as a mortal, he tilted his head back and drank. | 2014-09-06T21:02:45 | 2014-09-06T20:19:25 | 58 | 35 |
[WP] Your i-pod is sentient and tries to warn you of impending doom by shuffling your music library to play songs as a warning. | I was on a date with the girl of my dreams, or so I thought. My ipod has saved my life in the past with songs like "Jump" and "Don't Talk to Strangers" it's even helped me with little things by playing "Shelter" when it was about to rain. But this time it got me out of an almost catastrophic situation. We're on this date at this Indian food place whose owner I'm good friends with. She's laughing at my jokes, she's fun to talk to, all that good shit.
Fast forward. I'm dropping her off at her place, when she asks if I would like to come in for coffee. Just before I accept, I feel a vibration in my pocket. I pull out my ipod.
ACDC - She's Got Balls | *Take It on the Run*
My iPod blared the music through my headphones as I headed into town. I was jogging on a nice spring day, cool wind in my hair.
*Hotel California*
I think my iPod was glitching. It started to skip to different songs rapidly. I waved as I passed by Mrs. Hennisy’s house. She was a sweet old lady. Came by and gave me cookies just the other day. Nice, warm, and freshly baked chocolate chip cookies at that.
*Maneater*
I tapped on my iPod, trying to fix it. It wouldn’t even finish a song, just get to a certain point in the lyrics and then switch to a new one.
*Time of Your Life*
I looked at my iPod. I didn’t even have that song on there. As I looked up, I hadn’t even realized that a fog had started to fall and the air was becoming chillier.
*I’m Sorry*
“What the-?” I exclaimed, now peeved with my iPod. Suddenly, my attention turned towards the screen, I bumped into someone and fell to the ground.
“Oh my god, are you okay?” the woman asked, running over to me. She had been jogging as well and was glistening in sweat. I never stopped to consider how odd that was, what with the frigid temperatures.
“I’m fine,” I replied, smiling as she helped me to my feet.
*Hurt*
I still hadn’t even taken my headphones out yet.
“Want to join me on my jog?” the woman asked.
I smiled and pulled out my headphones.
“Of course,” I said, not thinking twice. It was as if my mind had turned itself off.
And so off I ran with the woman, both of us laughing and conversing as we jogged side by side. We stopped by Mrs. Hennisy’s house, apparently her grandmother, and accepted her invitation for a new batch of “special” cookies. For some unknown reason, I put my iPod down on the bench outside the front door before the woman grabbed my hand and pulled me across the threshold. Music still clearly came from the device, which would not shut off, but I couldn’t hear what it said.
*Mrs. Robinson*
And then, as the door closed and the man went inside, the song title changed on the iPod right before the battery died.
*Bye, Bye*
****
“Thanks for the cookies!” a new couple in the neighborhood said. “I can’t believe someone would have just disappeared so suddenly. Especially with a neighbor as sweet as you, Mrs. Hennisy.”
“Oh, I did like that boy,” she said. “He loved these cookies as well. No one seems to be able to resist that secret ingredient of mine.”
“Well it sure makes your chocolate chip cookies taste very good,” the couple said before closing the door.
“Yes it does,” the old lady said, licking her lips. “Yes it does.”
*For those wondering about the songs, the artists in chronological order are as follows. REO Speedwagon, The Eagles, Hall & Oates, Green Day, John Denver, Johnny Cash, Simon & Garfunkel, Jo Dee Messina.* | 2015-01-05T17:38:00 | 2015-01-05T16:16:18 | 27 | 15 |
[WP] Kanye West's daughter, for her birthday, asks Kanye to show some modesty for once in his life. Follow Kanye's subsequent quest to prove that since he's the best at everything ever, he can become the most humble man in the world. | Kanye West
Went on a Kanye Quest
To become the humblest man
And make his daughter impressed
He’s become cheaply dressed
Sold all but one vest
Gave away all the money
In the Kanye Chest
“But a man needs to rest”,
Said that Kanye West
Left with naught but a cot
As his Kanye Nest
All this left Kanye stressed,
As you might have guessed.
But with North’s wishes fulfilled,
He felt his Kanye Best.
| North sauntered into her father's studio, quietly approaching him as the glow of his computer screen danced off of his headphones. She could hear the beats thumping through them as her father's head bobbed rhythmically up and down to the project he had been working on for the past four hours. Hesitantly, she slowly tapped her dad on the back, trying to get his attention.
"Dad?" She silently asked, a question that fell upon deaf ears. She shook his shoulder a bit harder, finally getting her father to take his headphones off and turn around.
"North I told you I'm working. This shits fire, you can't stop me when I'm like this right now. How many times have I-" North shoved her finger in her father's face, cutting him off mid sentence.
"Dad, mom's about to cut the cake and Aunty Khloe is drunk and talking about Lebron again. I'm sick and tired of you always caring about you. I wish you would just be humble for once. Think about people other than yourself. Show some fucking class. I wish you could just live your life and be modest forever." North quickly turned around and stomped out of the room, ignoring her father as she headed back to her birthday cake.
"Don't you swear at me young lady, just cause you're 10 doesn't mean that you can talk to your father like that!" Kanye sat back down at his desk and thought about what his daughter said to him. Had he ignored his only child? Was he the one who caused her to resent him? Did Yeezus create this pain? He took off his headphones and knew what he had to do. He went into the dining room where everyone was waiting. He gave Kim a kiss on the forehead and went up to his daughter's 10 tier birthday cake, one for each year of her life.
"Make a wish honey" Kanye whispered into North's ear as they lit the candles.
"You know what I want daddy" North replied with a smile.
Kanye then flipped over the top 5 tiers of the birthday cake, sending bits of frosting everywhere. "WHO THE FUCK YOU THINK YOU ARE? I'M KANYE MOTHA FUCKING WEST. YOU WANT ME TO BE HUMBLE? BITCH WHO YOU THINK PAYS YOUR BILLS?I MADE GRADUATION YOU CUNT. **GRADUATION**" Kanye then lept up on the table and started to stomp on her cake, kicking bits of it onto the stunned crowd. "WHO THE FUCK LET THIS BITCH WATCH LIAR LIAR? WHOEVER IT WAS IS FUCKING FIRED. IM YEEZUS GOD DAMMIT. MY LIFE IS DOPE AND I DO DOPE SHIT. FUCK JIM CAREY. IM OUT."
With that Kanye threw his shoes in the trash, walked back into his studio, put back on his headphones, and proceeded to produce the best rap album of all time.
| 2015-02-10T10:31:06 | 2015-02-10T09:52:13 | 60 | 27 |
[WP] In an attempt to convince people society would have been better if humanity had never found religion, a time traveler kills anyone who begins to develop a form of faith. He goes back to the present and finds that people now universally worship a god who travels through time and smites heathens. | "That was the last one," she thought. Every known founder, messiah, and prophet gone. Every fool who ever thought to make up a story, to convince a population, and then wield their influence through modifications to their myth has been erased from history.
*Really done* this time. Those first trips back had been such learning experiences. Kill one prophet, and another pops up. Take out Joseph Smith, return to home-time, and find two versions of L. Ron Hubbard. Chasing down all the consequences to her actions had been tough. But now, the final ramification was erased. She had gotten them *all*.
She placed her blaster to the side, engaged the control console, and set a direct time-path back to the present. The *real*, secular present she had worked for all this time. With the push of a few buttons, the craft jolted to power and her brief trip began, then shortly ended.
"Finally," she thought. "Now let's see what a truly secular, a truly rational, civilization looks like. She arose, lifted the blaster, and walked to the door.
The whoosh of the door was lost in the crowd's roar. "She is here!" "She has returned!" the crowds eagerly cheered and sang their praised.
Confused, our protagonist walks forward. "Who is here? Who is 'she'?" she asked what looked to be the main in charge, dressed as a priest, at the front of the great mass of admirers.
"Why, you. You are here." He replied. "The god who deletes all others. The one true god, against whom no other heathan relic can stand."
"Well, I should have expected this," she thought. Folks always wanted to believe in a God; it seemed part of their nature. She had removed all other options. So now, it seemed, she had one more prophet to smite.
"I am no God. I am like you. Just like you! I am a person, a human, a rational agent. What I killed were not Gods, but distractions. I erased the myths of our varied pasts. The distractions that quashed our intellectual development."
The crowd could not be dissuaded. "No! You are our God! You persevere where others fail. You are the new foundation of our faith!"
"Then let us see how strong your foundation is! If I am your one God, the only possible deity, then let this final act show you the truth!" She rose the blaster, pointed it at her head, and rested her finger on the trigger.
"I am the last! When I go, no Gods to remain. Watch and see the flaw of religion, the myth of hope. Watch as your God, your religion, your faith dies *once and for all*!"
She pulled the trigger.
The crowd gasped.
"OW!" she exclaimed. "That really...wait..." She fired again. "OW! Mother fu...why isn't...why is?"
"You see," the Priest smiled, "You slay all other Gods. You, yourself cannot be slain. So what does that make you?"
With a look of pure bemusement, she could think of only one thing to say.
"...Me damnit." | I'm kinda tired and whipped this out. I like the idea, will probably eventually re-work.
...
“You can’t be fucking serious.”
“I am totally fucking serious, dude.”
“Ok, listen shitwad – even IF your plan were possible, which it is NOT, have you ever heard of the fucking butterfly effect?”
“Hey! This shitwad’s generous assistance is why you two fucktards were even able to build this! And boy – what an accomplishment! A time machine! You’re welcome, by the way.”
Ok, I need to pause for a second. He’s getting belligerent. “Shitwad” probably didn’t help. Probably not the best thing to call your sole benefactor.
But he’s being a fucktard.
“What you’re trying to do is literally impossible, and you’ll cause like 20 million drastic changes – changes you can’t even imagine – to take place! You can’t just erase… religion!”
“Watch me… shitwad.”
I tried to respond, but he was having none of it – he stormed into the device, and shut the door. Of course now he won’t be able to hear me, because boy, that thing is sealed. It’s just kind of impossible to know what kind of stress something goes through during interdimensional travel. On top of that, the actual machine is in an airlock. So yeah. Nothing really to do now.
“Do you think he’ll actually do it?”
I looked to my right, where Matt was standing.
“No. It’s impossible.”
“Well, I mean, if you think about it, religion had to start somewhere?”
I let out an audible, exaggerated sigh. I’m so fucking tired of making this point.
“What… is religion, Matt?”
“It’s what happens when people believe in God.”
“Is Buddhism a religion?”
“What, you’re asking me a trick question or something? Of course it’s a fucking religion.”
“Who’s the God?”
“Buddha!”
“Buddha’s not a fucking god, Matt.”
“Uh, yes he fucking is.”
I really don’t have the energy to have this argument right now. We have a problem on our hands.
“Whatever. Richard’s fucking gone already, it doesn’t matter.”
“Yeah.”
“What do you want to do now? I’m too frustrated to think straight right now.”
“I don’t know, man. Maybe try to find a church or something?”
I throw him another exasperated look. He can’t seriously believe things would have changed that quickly. But, still, a walk outside, and maybe hanging out in a quiet building isn’t so bad right now. Need to cool off anyway.
I’m halfway out the door when I hear a door behind me open, and see Richard limping out of the device. His clothes are wet, his hair drenched in what appears to be sweat. Leaning against the open door, he gives me a tired, yet victoriously cocky smile.
“You watching… shitwad?”
“Oh my God, Richard. It’s not that hard to operate.”
“Oh I know.”
“Then what the fuck are you doing?”
“I’m done.”
“You’re… done?”
“Yes, douche canoe, I’m done. Go see for yourself. You were right – it wasn’t easy. But…! It wasn’t impossible.”
Holy fuck. He actually did something, or many things, or… what did he do? I walk right up to him, and stand extremely close… close enough for him to smell my breath.
“Now you need to tell me exactly what happened.”
Another cocky smile.
“The butterfly effect. Find the source, prevent it. Simple. I won’t bore you with the details, it’s a long story.”
“Oh I got nothing to do tonight. Try me.”
Richard cackles weakly.
“No. I don’t have to tell you shit. You have the thing right here, why don’t you go see for yourself?”
Yeah, looks like that’s what I’m going to have to do anyway. Not really thrilled with the idea of chasing this douchebag through history to undo whatever he did, but that’s part of the gig, I guess, and he knows it. The least he could do is tell me something.
“Tomorrow, Richard. Tomorrow.”
I have all the time in the world. Or, at least enough time to sleep first. We successfully traveled through time today – I’ll fix the damage tomorrow. I turn around, exit the building, and start the long walk home. There’s a church on the way, I’ll probably check it out.
…
Coming to where the church should be, I see a relatively plain building with a sign that says just, “Offerings.” The lights are still on, even though it is late at night. This is definitely a change – I guess Richard fucked up Christianity at least? I open the door just enough to peek inside, and there is a main room, with chairs lined up – at least ten rows, each with several chairs. All were full of women holding newborn children. In the front of the room is a table with a white cloth draped over it, with a statue of a man, arms full of babies, resting on top. In front of this table stands a man, wearing a red robe, arms outstretched, preaching to the congregation.
“Oh just and merciful one, pass judgment on your children this night! If any one of these are found not in your favor, appear to us now and remove him forever from our sight!”
At this time, the women – all of the women – speak together in response.
“We ask you for the same mercy you have shown to us throughout history. Appear to us now and steal away the unjust among us.”
Well… fuck. Looks like “shitwad” was actually the best word to use.
| 2016-05-06T22:35:23 | 2016-05-06T21:18:54 | 249 | 30 |
[WP] "So what happens if I press this button?" I asked. "Nothing." She replied. I pushed the button in, grinning. "It's when you let go that things get nasty." | "You gotta be kidding me" I said pressing down the button.
"Haha, nope," she replied, "that's why you should always wait before compulsively pressing every button you see."
"Well..."
"Well- what?"
"Well, what the hell does it do?" I specified.
"I don't know, you'll have to press it to find out."
"There's no way I'm doing that. You've shown me some freaky shit over the years and I have no clue what this could lead to."
"Well, you really only have one option in this scenario."
"Oh, really" I replied in a semi-sarcastic way.
"Yeah, you gotta take your finger off the button at some point."
"Or I can just hold it here until you tell me what the hell is going on."
"Good luck with that one," she said as she walked towards the exit. "See ya later buddy. Let me know how it goes." and she walked out the door.
I stood there for another thirty minutes or so trying to figure out what to do. I called for help. I looked for something that I could put on top of it to hold to button down but finally, I decided that enough was enough and I lifted my finger off the button.
And nothing happened.
That little shit. | I couldn't remember much about the night I spent with her except for that little silly button she had in the wall, and the weird sound she made when she climaxed. The whole thing was a mistake. Dana would kill me if she knew. She would literally shot me in the head with her service gun. But I couldn't resist that strange woman charm. I don't believe any men could.
I was heading down to the reception to check out from the hotel when she met me in the corridor half naked asking me with urgency to help with a broken tap that was flooding her room. Strange how suddenly an architect like me found the urge to be a plumber at that time of night. I fixed her plumbing alright, although we ended up flooding the room anyway. I never cheated on Dana, but that night, for some reason felt justified. It felt like a well-deserved compensation for all the headaches she gave me for not having kids. Why is she giving me shit for not having kids? It's not like I'm not trying hard enough. It's not like the bills for all the doctors she visited to fix "our problem" wasn't costly enough. "You don't want them, that's why we don't have them." was her theory. Why would me wanting or not wanting kids have anything to do with any of it. Yes, I don't want kids and I'm glad that we don't have them, but that doesn't give her the right to turn my life into hell. I've got nothing to be blamed for.
When we were done plumbing, me and the weird woman in the hotel, I asked her about the button. A black round button that was on the wall behind us, right above our heads. "You don't have one in your room do you?" she asnwered with a question. "No." I confirmed. "Well, it does nothing really." she said. I pushed the button in. "It's when you let go that things get nasty."
I didn't have enough strength to keep holding that button even if I wanted to. And why would I? It was certainly a silly joke, from a silly girl, in this silly one night affair. I wake up in my bed next morning. Dana was already up and running around the house like a headless chicken to prepare herself for work. I saw her take off her clothes as she walked into the room and started searching the wardrobe for the new day style ingredients. Her naked body looked beautiful like always. Her well-rounded ass, her arched back, her silky hair. And the stretch marks on her belly? Wait, I didn't remember seeing those before. "Baby, what's up with those stretch marks?" I asked. She looked at me and giggled, as if the question was humorous teasing. It wasn't. I swear I didn't see them before.
She put her clothes on and turned to me "Don't forget to pick up the kids from school at eleven am." she said. "Wait, whose kids are we picking up?" I asked as I sat up straight. That giggle again. She shook her head and left the room. Then she shouted from the stairs "Eleven AM." I fell back into the bed. I must have been too drunk last night. We must have got introduced to some new friends who got kids and somehow blessed us with the task to pick up their kids from school this morning. As I turned to the left, I saw the framed photo of me and Dana on the nightstand, along with three kids. Two boys and a girl. "What the fuck?" I exclaimed as I stood up again and held the photo in my hand. "Wawawait. What was the room number again?" I asked myself. | 2017-01-05T14:05:34 | 2017-01-05T13:30:21 | 65 | 12 |
[WP] A new continent is discovered. No one knows why this large land mass has never been seen before, it doesn't appear on any pictures taken from space and no astronauts have ever reported seeing it. You are part of the team in charge of mapping the area when you find out what they've been hiding. | Container ships got automated a long time ago. GPS satellites could guide them through the oceans, and people only needed to be onboard to make repeats and guide them into a port.
But somehow, all our satellites never managed to spot a continent the size of Europe in the middle of the Pacific Ocean.
Instead, it was discovered by the cargo ship 'Harmony', which, believing there was open ocean in front of it, made landfall three days too early and crashed into the Neo-Pacific landmass.
Two days after a distress call was received, a team of scientists from almost every different country, studying every different area were dropped onto the unexplored land, to explain how something so large could go unnoticed for so long.
After the sun had set, Nick Reeves, a geologist, was set down on the coast, next to the sparkling lights of the Neo-Pacific base camp.
A band of orange crested the sky over the ocean as the sun slowly set over the rest of the pacific.
Upon entering the flimsy plastic cabins, discussion was already going strong about how this huge island appeared from seemingly nowhere.
A man who, from what he was speaking about, was obviously a seismologist was speaking at the moment. "Seismology shows that it's not floating. It's firmly rooted to the Pacific Ocean floor. It's part of the crust. Something this large takes millions of years to form. This isn't just another Surtsey."
Another man continued, adding his own readings and ideas. "It can't have been under the surface either. The pacific has always been deep. We could see that from space. But somehow, we couldn't see this. And the biology..."
"The biology," a biologist interrupted, "doesn't seem as if it's been submerged. Whilst there seems to be no mammals or birds, the plants that are here seem as if they've been on the surface for their whole lifespan. There's some trees here that are near a hundred years old."
Nick broke in here. "I need a chance to look at the soil. How saline it is, moisture, trace chemicals, stuff like that. And the ground too, the bedrock. That way we can work out how old this thing is, how long since it formed."
Others continued after him. Some pulled out whiteboards, complex data on printed documents. It went on all night, Nick listening intently and adding in where he could. Eventually, he retired to his assigned bunk, eagerly awaiting the morning.
The sunrise was blocked by a huge mountain range. The seismologist had been right - there's no way this place was newly formed.
Satellite imagery had provided all sorts of useful information. The continent was roughly circular, with rather smooth coasts. Their base camp was next to a mountain range which spread around the entire Western coast.
Nick gathered soil samples a mile from the base camp. Hopefully they would correlate to those from the other nearby land masses - that would give them some clue as to where this thing started.
He wanted to get samples from the other sides of the mountains, and see the huge things themselves. Hopefully he could find out when they formed. A bumpy jeep ride up the cliff side gave him a chance to really see just how different - or how similar - this place was.
It seemed tropical, much like Fiji. Palm trees, high temperatures, wildlife adapted to monsoon seasons. Not that there was much wildlife apart from the plants. It really was as if this place had been submerged.
On a plateau on the mountainside, he got out of the jeep to take a look at the mountain, the type of material it was made from. They hadn't quite reached the top yet, but the vegetation had already stopped and things became more rocky. It looked layered, like slate or something sedimentary. But it had an off consistency, as if it was-
Nick's thought process was interrupted by the jeep backing up behind him.
"What's up?"
"Nick, look." said one of the seismologists who was taking a ride down to the other side of the mountain.
"Look at what?"
"The floor. What you're standing on."
They should have sent an archaeologist, Nick thought.
Concrete. He was standing on concrete.
------------------------------------
More coming soon! | "Tell us, friend, what it is like back on your land?" Mu'ru asks me. He was a tall, strong male, adorned with blue tattoo's all over his torso.
"Oh, it's simple," I start to explain, "Really bloody hot all the time. And if it's not hot, it's raining. And If it's not raining, it's about to be." I let out a light laugh as I finish my sentence.
"Australia sounds like a hard place to be," Mu'ru looks over at me before he continues to speak, "And why are you here?"
"Well, I've been tasked with documenting this place. Draw some pictures, talk to the natives, discuss the finer points. We wish to know more about this place..." My voice trails off for a second whilst I investigate the area all around me. Mu'ru has been escorting me through his capital city, a gigantic and lavish citadel, bustling with people. "So to begin with, what is the name of this city?"
"It is nameless." Mu'ru responds, seemingly confused at the notion of a city with a name.
"I mean, it has to have a name. What do your people say when they are trying to identify this place?" I inquire, trying my best to not be callous.
"Home,"
"Oh, that's beautiful." I smile broad as I pull out a notepad I have nestled in my backpack. "Alright, I have another question for you, how do you know English?" Mu'ru let out a small chuckle.
"We know all the languages of the foreign tongue." Mu'ru turns into a different street, so I follow. To each side were monstrous statues of men holding spears. "French, Russian, Oromo, Swahili, Spanish, English, Mandarin... the list would be shorter if I were to list the ones we don't know." I was taken back by his statement,
"Fascinating, absolutely fascinating. A civilization with no contact to the outside world somehow knowing every language within it." I scribble my words down as I talk on the notepad, the ink rubbing against my hand as I write. Mu'ru continues to walk between the statues, and I continue to walk behind him.
"Who said we had never been contacted before? We've met your people many times." I glance up at Mu'ru instead of writing.
"There is zero documentation of that. Anywhere... in the world. No one has talked about this place in all of history." I stare at the back of Mu'ru's head. My heart was beating fast in my chest and my palms were beginning to drench themselves in sweat.
"My friend," he says to me whilst turning only his head around, keeping his pace towards the temple I had only just noticed. "I can sense the fear in your heart. Please, settle it. We won't hurt you. We let everyone we meet leave on their own accord. In fact, it is a sacred tradition within our culture to enlighten any stranger to our land."
"Enlighten?" I murmur, my voice breaking slightly against my vocal chords. "What do you mean by that?"
"We wish to cure you of all your fears. Of your terrors. Of your horrors. If you will, just walk into the temple behind me. When you leave it, all the fears you once had will seem... Insignificant." Mu'ru gestures behind himself towards the temple opening. I couldn't see anything in the perfect dark that laid within.
"Well, Spiders do scare the shit out of me," I say with a faux laugh. "And, uh, it is my job to do this stuff, so... yeah, sure. Cure my fears, Mu'ru." I walk pass him and into the inside of the temple.
The darkness that resided inside the temple was unnatural. I could feel it cover me from head to toe, like I was inside a bubble of pure bile. I felt nauseous just walking a few more steps further inside. My stomach turned and my head felt light. My throat opened with my stomach, and the insides of myself splash all over the floor, coating everything I couldn't see.
"Mu'ru, I'm sorry, I threw up inside your temple," I yell, turning around to the entrance. But it wasn't there. In fact, I couldn't see any entrance, exit, or window. No light. All I could witness was vast emptiness. My head was pounding at this point along with my heartbeat. A thump in my chest, a drum in my mind. My blood was coming to a crawl as I felt it solidify inside of myself.
An explosion of light bloomed in front of me. A million eyes, most likely more, shone out of the darkness. It replaced every inch of dark with apathetic stares. They descended down upon me and examined every part of my body. I kept turning and turning, trying to make sense of everything that was happening. Suddenly, one of the eyes flew towards me and forced its way down my throat. I start to choke as it wriggles its way down, further and further, until I knew it lay inside my stomach. I start to scream.
Then I was outside. I stood in front of Mu'ru, who was smiling as I collapsed onto the ground, tears pouring down my face.
"Are you afraid of Spiders anymore friend?" Mu'ru asked, leaning down until his head was level with mine.
"No," I whimper out. "I'm afraid of whatever the fuck that was."
"Understandable. Would you like to go home?" He places his hand on my back, almost nurturing, but I knew it was full of foul intent.
"Yes... that sounds good." I grab his shoulder and slowly bring myself back to standing.
"If you could do me a favor. Don't tell anyone about this place, yes?" Mu'ru asks of me. Another small, and now wretched, smile made its way onto his face from his repugnant maw.
"No one will know," I say, slowly backing away from Mu'ru and down the hallway of statues.
"Good," He says, his smile growing wider and wider. From the middle of his forehead, an eye tore itself out of his flesh, the same kind of eye from inside the temple, and stares me down.
"Because I'll know if you do."
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If you liked this, check out /r/Rhysyjay | 2017-02-10T09:48:00 | 2017-02-10T08:15:40 | 1,957 | 812 |
[WP] You have the ability to double jump. Scientists are still trying to figure it out. | "Guys, it's not that complicated," I say to the increasingly frustrated group of scientists, "I just jump... and then I jump again."
Most of them stare at me open-mouthed, one flings his hands up into the air and storms out of the test room.
"Okay, but... what does it feel like when you jump the second time?" presses a particularly intrepid scientist, "Does it feel like you're kicking off from ultra-dense air? Is it like a floating sensation?"
"Well, " I start, "have you ever jumped before?" They stare at me, I can see the impatience tightening it's grip. A few of them nod tentatively. "It feels just like that, but if you did it again."
One of them snaps. "YOU KNOW WHAT? FUCK YOU! FUCK THIS. FUCK THIS JOB. FUCK ALL OF IT STRAIGHT TO FUCKING HELL." She storms out, drooling and flipping us off as she does.
"Okay..." sighs another scientist, massaging his temples in frustration and exhaustion, "let's pick this up tomorrow."
"Whatever," I shrug.
I don't get what their problem is. It's not that hard. You just jump, and then jump again. | The people in comic books have so many cool powers: flight, super strength, laser vision. My power is pretty mundane, but I like it that way: I can use it subtly without people freaking out.
I learned of my power in Junior High, when I tried to impress my father at long jump; he was upset that I was always second to Chad. When I jumped, I knew I couldn't make it, so I desperately tried a jump in midair. And it worked. I saw everyone's eyes, even my father's, open in awe.
Of course, I didn't end up winning. I fell back as I landed, so the gold went once again to Chad, who my father congratulated. Last time I looked into my dad's eyes was that evening, when it held the greatest disappointment a father's could have. "How could you lose?! You fell back like a failure! Chad should have been my child, but I am stuck with a loser like you!"
I didn't mind actually. After I ran away that day, I felt much better, like I was free. It might have also been the lack of beatings though. I lived with my mother then, on the other end of the country, and secretly practiced my new power.
I could double jump, but not triple. I could use my hand to jump with too. I quickly became the track star, with county records and everything one could desire: popularity, girls, even money. Almost everything.
When I turned 18, my chance came: the Olympics. I quickly blew away the competition in the high jump, making sure not to go too much above their limits.
And then I saw him: Chad, and my father as his supervisor. Turns out that Chad's parents were in an "accident", and my dad was given custody of the kid. We were both chosen to be members of team USA, and I knew what I would do then. I didn't care about money or medals. All I wanted was his humiliation, and my father's acceptance.
When the event came, I stood before the world. Turns out, Chad was better than the other countries' competitors as well, and it eventually came down to the two of us. Then my moment came to shine when Chad failed the 2.4 m jump. I smirked at his failure, and his glare only filled me with confidence. I made the jump easily, deciding to screw my rules and make obvious use of the double jump, clearing it by at least 1 meter. Everybody was silent through my jumps, as I managed to jump 4.5 meters before I fell, leading to endless applause. I turned to Chad, with the smuggest grin I could muster: "Suck it Chad" I simply said, leaving him to wallow in his shame.
My father was outside, waiting for me. "You know, you have really impressed..." his words faded away as I double jumped on his face. After I was arrested for murder, the Olympic committee disqualified me on the basis of steroids, but no one believed it. Truth was, the US government got me out of prison on the condition that I was their test subject.
They could never figure out what caused it. My genes appeared average, and nothing changed in my body when I double jumped. Even now, 40 years later, they persist. I am officially considered an executed prisoner. I haven't even been outside for 40 years. I am simply a method to try and get the super soldiers they want.
It doesn't matter though, because I got what I wanted. I ruined Chad for life, and I impressed my father, only to betray him. Like he betrayed me. | 2017-02-11T09:05:42 | 2017-02-11T08:42:45 | 144 | 39 |
[WP] When someone is murdered, their name appears on the skin of the killer. You wake up with a name on your arm and no knowledge of how it got there. | I woke up from a rough night. I had been drinking and partying and having fun- you know. Young people stuff. I opened my eyes slowly to a *beep beep beep* which I thought was an alarm clock so I groggily reached over to turn it off.
Except, it wasn't there.
I wasn't at home. I wasn't at a friend's. I was in a hospital. I frowned and looked down at the tingling sensation on my arm. It was a three letter word slowly forming in black cursive. A name. *A name...*
It was Jen. I don't know who she is. It was just, "Jen."
I looked around for the nurse when she walked in. "Why am I here? What happened?" I was confused. Why was there a name? Why was I in the hospital?
She pulled up a chair. "So first off, lets start with you're in Chester's Mill Hospital. You got into an accident." She looked at my wrist and back at me. "You hit a van bringing home a family from a late night football game." I nodded to let her continue. "You killed a 6 year old girl. The mother is in surgery and the father has a broken leg. They're in this hospital." I couldn't think. I couldn't talk. My mouth felt like a desert. I killed her? I looked to the nurse and her head twisted slowly, soft expression turning into a blank one filled with anger and hatred. The room swirled into darkness. "You killed a little girl, James... 6 years old.... Her whole life to live... you killed her." The nurse yelled in anger, twisting into some melancholy form. No longer a woman in scrubs with blonde hair in a bun. She was a giant force of twisting negativity. The room shook violently, twisting and warping. Things fell off the shelves and there was a silent wailing. I screamed and woke up, like being thrown into a new life. My chest rose and fell, my lungs searched for air. My heart struggled to recover but my mind was cloaked in a constant cloak of this.
I had been in this psychiatric hospital for 8 years now. I was 21 when I entered. Today Jen would've been 14. She haunts my dreams, my every waking moments. I catch her staring with a crooked neck and frail body. Tiny arms still clutched to a ragged teddy bear. She's always in the background.
The name is still there. On her birthday it gets darker or a new part is formed and I slowly learn about what she would've become. So my friends, the moral I'm writing in this journal at the hospital is, *don't drink and drive.* | "Well, this is new, a tattoo embedded onto the arm of mine, but I' ve no recollection of how it got here but, at least it doesn't hurt. What happened last night? Well I went from work at 3:15 pm and I went to the... damn it what is that damn place called? It had a weird name. Fuck. Where am I? Well let's see..." The cracked walls gave me a shiver, for some reason I'm tattooed with the words "Michael". I can't take my eyes of this abomination of a Tattoo. I reached into my pocket and here it is, a locket; I need some air. The air thickened as I attempt to grasp my recollection of what happened last night, through the claustrophobic hallways, each seemed to reflect the detachment of any human kindness, with each step challenged through the use of screams mimicing my footsteps with pure ferocity. My body seemed to give under the unrivaled nature of this unending tunnel.
A drop of information arised as I try to recollect what occured. " I drove to a nearby diner with nothing but my cigerettes and wallet, as I drove to a diner nearby, I believe it's called "J&C's" It wasn't too fancy, a run down 50's diner that struggled in the face of time. I turned off the car and webt through a singular metallic frame that seemed to have been used as a substitute for a door. The smell wasn't too bad I suppose, cheap air freshener wasn't as distracting as the 4x4 of plywood that replaced some of the windows. I approached the waitress and ordered a coffee. "
"Did I just pass out"? My legs were trembling as I decided to carry my weakend form through the corridor. I mapped the corridor out to enter the miniscule room. A few furnitures and a table were all that was remotely even usable, as the rest of the stuff here seemed to have either been scattered or beyond former recognition; mostly both. I then stumbled across my diploma, seemed the framing was cracked. My mind chaotic-ly rushed to find something inside the labyrinth like cocoon of the mind.
"A sip of my coffee was interrupted by a figure slowly approaching me from the left side, as I had diverted my attention from the chimicals of the darkenned sea. I reluctantly invited him to sit; perhaps company had eased me of my surroundings. He asked me of few questions: what's my job, what's my name and why here? I suppose I can't tell him my name or my intention, however I told him my job. I uttered the line "a teachers assistant". It wasn't too bad, everyone deserved an education. The man grumbled in approval before I offered him a ride back to his house, seemed it was reasonable. So I took the man in my car and we drove."
I became weary of my surroundings. Perhaps I was too embellished in this place. Slowly I had crept downstairs only to be greeted by the man I had spent yesterday with. He had greeted my like an old friend. He asked me of death. The man unravelled his sleeve to reveal the same name "Michael". I panicked and roared my question, "how, why"? "You don't remember do you?" My memories suddenly solidified and connected in ways I never thought was possible.
"The road was unrelenting, a chamber of silence deafened the vehicle til the man asked me of why I was carrying my diploma? I had told him that I couldn't face the task anymore I quit. As we approached the crossroads, the man had asked me of life, and death. I had told him that death has no bias. Silence.
The man had uttered a revelation. "I failed him". My heart sank, it was like a jolt of regret had invaded my mind, for I too had failed him. He had guided me to a room that seemed to feel cold and abandoned. He had a reflection of deep dispair that haunted my mind as he had proceeded to invite me to a box inscribed "Michael" he fetched two glasses and a bottle of scotch. He smoothly poured the scotch smoothly after handing me the glass. "I wasn't there when he needed me the most" he gloomed. The truth is neither did I. I opened the locket to reveal two tablets and a quote, "to teach the unteachable and to help the unhelpable." I looked at him one final time. I quickly took the tablets and instantly fell ill, "why?" Shouted the man.
I knew his son. I tried to help him. Every day he would say the same thing "what is death" I told him that death had an afterlife; I don't believe it however. But then one day, I showed him the locket. I told him that when i think of death, I hold this locker and it goes away. I wasn't thinking that he would take one of my tablets. I failed him. So I resigned.
Look at him, trying to save my life, I'll unburden him and prove that there's nothing he could have done, for afterall, death has no bias.
I hope you all enjoy my story.
| 2017-03-24T17:29:35 | 2017-03-24T13:35:49 | 99 | 20 |
[WP]: Your village idiot is full of the strangest superstitions. She goes on about washing one's hands, says you get worms in your intestines from standing barefoot on night soil and that medicines with mercury should be avoided at all costs. You're starting to suspect she might be onto something. | "She's something all right."
"Yes but a lady belongs in the houses, not working whatever it is she's always up to."
--
As I pull back the curtains to the cellar, the stench of her recent 'concoctions' hit me once again. Though I love her enthusiastic, or as I call it 'free-spirited' personality, others whisper where did her father go wrong.
"Where be the wicked witch of the well?"
"Oh quit it Cedrick, leave me be."
By the table, Erika stood in her favourite dress, simple, sleeveless dress showing off just a bit of her personality. Her hair brought up into a bun, unusual arrangement for the night, but she's always stood firm for her beliefs in dressing in her cellar.
However mystifying her looks may be, the contents of her table shared the same trait. Mix of glassware and make-shift 'contraptions' of scrap she's found. In front of her, manuscripts by high lords, many with writing foreign to the common man. It is uncommon for a lady from here to read, such Erika's ability to read these papers reserved for upper society is unheard of. She has even defaced them with her writing on several occasions.
What has the lord sent her now? 'Manipulation of space-time using...' "Oi" She snatched the white script out of my hand, "You know my rules in here."
A playful smile came, "the men of the next town dare not touch me, Erika you truely bewitch me."
She looked up at me, releasing her hair into the usual river of black hitting her back. "What would you have me do I wonder?" She pulled me in for a kiss. "Wait for me outside, I have to stabilize my machine."
"Sta-bil-se, where do you pick these up?"
--
A few more and I might just be able to stabilize the portal, if only for a few seconds, it's enough.
As the pulser tripped, the entangled parties warped the hole into phase. The hole that brought me here, and the one that will bring me home. Call me Einstein, he might have came up with the theorem, but I built a working portal in medieval London!
| It was hopeless. It took her years of painstaking advancement through social ranks, starting with little more than a village idiot, of taking three steps forward and two back, of cracking one glass ceiling after another just to arrange this meeting, yet only one of the assembled feudal lords was listening and even his comprehension lefty much to be desired. Others were busy drinking, trying to feel up the maids or in one case furiously hollowing a piece of wood with a knife.
“So… you are saying this im.. imm.. immunizations can stave off another plague?” The lord sitting on her left asked, struggling with unfamiliar word.
“Loads of poppycock!” Interjected his peer opposite ”I wouldn't be surprised if those caused children to be born cretins!”
She threw a murderous glance towards the interloper, and sweet as before, returned to her target, desperately vying for an analogy he would comprehend.
“Imagine, that you have captured some warriors from a vanguard of an army invading from the east. They have weapons and armour like you have never seen before. Would you rather set them free, kill them, or put them in an arena to fight against your champions?” he was definitely interested now “It would be a risk for your soldiers, but your army would know what to expect, and how to fight a new enemy.”
His eyes lit up in comprehension.
“If you…”
But he wasn't given a chance to finish as a small projectile embedded itself in his neck. He stood up, nearly toppling the table. Bellowing in rage he reached for a dagger.
“Easy, brother, easy.” Laughed the man previously busy carving. “I have done that for your own good. See, as Elizabeth the Seer teaches, small portions of poison teach your body how to deal with real disease. So I've decided to immunize you against crossbow bolts.” He waved a miniature crossbow, he made just moments ago. “I reckon, that by the end of the month I should be able to shoot you with a proper bolt. Next month an iron tipped, and next year a ballista.”
The assembly erupted in a wave of laughter, and she knew all her work was for nothing. Sobbing, she ran out and didn't stop until she reached one of the huge iron pillars, surrounded by a sea of twisted, rusting wreckage.
She started crying openly, not only because of her failure, but because of what all of humanity lost in just a couple of centuries. She looked around, the ancient capital lain in ruins, magnificent buildings crumbled and replaced by wooden structures, overflowing Seine turning the terrain back into swampland. Only the ancient churches stood tall and proud, creating a painful dissonance with what was left of the pinnacle of human achievement.
****
High above an alien appendage relaxed and left the immediate vicinity of a kinetic strike activator. The ship's leader, who watched everything unfold through the eyes of a myriad of minuscule robots mimicking insects, wiped a sticky tear-analogue from his face; he genuinely felt for Elizabeth, and although he would cause her even more suffering before his mission was over, his soul shattered into a billion bruised pieces every time he had to cause harm.
He said a quick prayer to the Gods, both his and human, thanking for sparing what used to be Ile de France, back when he arrived for his scheduled rotation as mission coordinator. He sensed his crew's impatience, and began to issue orders in a soft and explanatory manner characteristic of his species.
“It went better than we could expect, but get the robots to apply a topical poison to the exact area where the projectile struck Lord Jean. Something that would make him rot alive, or maybe just bled out. They will be shocked, but they will only blame Elizabeth and her ideas.”
He paused, reminiscing how easy was to collapse the human civilization. No physical contact. No weapons. Just memetic viruses. Vaccines cause autism. Earth is flat. Jews are behind it. Jet fuel…
“Activate protection protocols on Elizabeth and all the others. Maximum prejudice, no need to stay secret. Before the year passes, she will be reviled as a witch, and all her ideas banned, our sage will be just like Baba Yaga from previous iteration. But for that we will have to keep her safe, and make sure she takes her medication.”
He wondered, what was she thinking, when one beautiful day she stopped aging, and even regained perfect health, while civilization crumbled all around. “I'm sorry…” he whispered.
“Now, please take us over Mr Harrison, and please prepare those angelic apparitions…”
| 2017-09-14T12:51:41 | 2017-09-14T08:26:46 | 58 | 25 |
[WP]: Your village idiot is full of the strangest superstitions. She goes on about washing one's hands, says you get worms in your intestines from standing barefoot on night soil and that medicines with mercury should be avoided at all costs. You're starting to suspect she might be onto something. | "She's something all right."
"Yes but a lady belongs in the houses, not working whatever it is she's always up to."
--
As I pull back the curtains to the cellar, the stench of her recent 'concoctions' hit me once again. Though I love her enthusiastic, or as I call it 'free-spirited' personality, others whisper where did her father go wrong.
"Where be the wicked witch of the well?"
"Oh quit it Cedrick, leave me be."
By the table, Erika stood in her favourite dress, simple, sleeveless dress showing off just a bit of her personality. Her hair brought up into a bun, unusual arrangement for the night, but she's always stood firm for her beliefs in dressing in her cellar.
However mystifying her looks may be, the contents of her table shared the same trait. Mix of glassware and make-shift 'contraptions' of scrap she's found. In front of her, manuscripts by high lords, many with writing foreign to the common man. It is uncommon for a lady from here to read, such Erika's ability to read these papers reserved for upper society is unheard of. She has even defaced them with her writing on several occasions.
What has the lord sent her now? 'Manipulation of space-time using...' "Oi" She snatched the white script out of my hand, "You know my rules in here."
A playful smile came, "the men of the next town dare not touch me, Erika you truely bewitch me."
She looked up at me, releasing her hair into the usual river of black hitting her back. "What would you have me do I wonder?" She pulled me in for a kiss. "Wait for me outside, I have to stabilize my machine."
"Sta-bil-se, where do you pick these up?"
--
A few more and I might just be able to stabilize the portal, if only for a few seconds, it's enough.
As the pulser tripped, the entangled parties warped the hole into phase. The hole that brought me here, and the one that will bring me home. Call me Einstein, he might have came up with the theorem, but I built a working portal in medieval London!
| It was hopeless. It took her years of painstaking advancement through social ranks, starting with little more than a village idiot, of taking three steps forward and two back, of cracking one glass ceiling after another just to arrange this meeting, yet only one of the assembled feudal lords was listening and even his comprehension lefty much to be desired. Others were busy drinking, trying to feel up the maids or in one case furiously hollowing a piece of wood with a knife.
“So… you are saying this im.. imm.. immunizations can stave off another plague?” The lord sitting on her left asked, struggling with unfamiliar word.
“Loads of poppycock!” Interjected his peer opposite ”I wouldn't be surprised if those caused children to be born cretins!”
She threw a murderous glance towards the interloper, and sweet as before, returned to her target, desperately vying for an analogy he would comprehend.
“Imagine, that you have captured some warriors from a vanguard of an army invading from the east. They have weapons and armour like you have never seen before. Would you rather set them free, kill them, or put them in an arena to fight against your champions?” he was definitely interested now “It would be a risk for your soldiers, but your army would know what to expect, and how to fight a new enemy.”
His eyes lit up in comprehension.
“If you…”
But he wasn't given a chance to finish as a small projectile embedded itself in his neck. He stood up, nearly toppling the table. Bellowing in rage he reached for a dagger.
“Easy, brother, easy.” Laughed the man previously busy carving. “I have done that for your own good. See, as Elizabeth the Seer teaches, small portions of poison teach your body how to deal with real disease. So I've decided to immunize you against crossbow bolts.” He waved a miniature crossbow, he made just moments ago. “I reckon, that by the end of the month I should be able to shoot you with a proper bolt. Next month an iron tipped, and next year a ballista.”
The assembly erupted in a wave of laughter, and she knew all her work was for nothing. Sobbing, she ran out and didn't stop until she reached one of the huge iron pillars, surrounded by a sea of twisted, rusting wreckage.
She started crying openly, not only because of her failure, but because of what all of humanity lost in just a couple of centuries. She looked around, the ancient capital lain in ruins, magnificent buildings crumbled and replaced by wooden structures, overflowing Seine turning the terrain back into swampland. Only the ancient churches stood tall and proud, creating a painful dissonance with what was left of the pinnacle of human achievement.
****
High above an alien appendage relaxed and left the immediate vicinity of a kinetic strike activator. The ship's leader, who watched everything unfold through the eyes of a myriad of minuscule robots mimicking insects, wiped a sticky tear-analogue from his face; he genuinely felt for Elizabeth, and although he would cause her even more suffering before his mission was over, his soul shattered into a billion bruised pieces every time he had to cause harm.
He said a quick prayer to the Gods, both his and human, thanking for sparing what used to be Ile de France, back when he arrived for his scheduled rotation as mission coordinator. He sensed his crew's impatience, and began to issue orders in a soft and explanatory manner characteristic of his species.
“It went better than we could expect, but get the robots to apply a topical poison to the exact area where the projectile struck Lord Jean. Something that would make him rot alive, or maybe just bled out. They will be shocked, but they will only blame Elizabeth and her ideas.”
He paused, reminiscing how easy was to collapse the human civilization. No physical contact. No weapons. Just memetic viruses. Vaccines cause autism. Earth is flat. Jews are behind it. Jet fuel…
“Activate protection protocols on Elizabeth and all the others. Maximum prejudice, no need to stay secret. Before the year passes, she will be reviled as a witch, and all her ideas banned, our sage will be just like Baba Yaga from previous iteration. But for that we will have to keep her safe, and make sure she takes her medication.”
He wondered, what was she thinking, when one beautiful day she stopped aging, and even regained perfect health, while civilization crumbled all around. “I'm sorry…” he whispered.
“Now, please take us over Mr Harrison, and please prepare those angelic apparitions…”
| 2017-09-14T12:51:41 | 2017-09-14T06:09:16 | 58 | 20 |
[WP]: Your village idiot is full of the strangest superstitions. She goes on about washing one's hands, says you get worms in your intestines from standing barefoot on night soil and that medicines with mercury should be avoided at all costs. You're starting to suspect she might be onto something. | "She's something all right."
"Yes but a lady belongs in the houses, not working whatever it is she's always up to."
--
As I pull back the curtains to the cellar, the stench of her recent 'concoctions' hit me once again. Though I love her enthusiastic, or as I call it 'free-spirited' personality, others whisper where did her father go wrong.
"Where be the wicked witch of the well?"
"Oh quit it Cedrick, leave me be."
By the table, Erika stood in her favourite dress, simple, sleeveless dress showing off just a bit of her personality. Her hair brought up into a bun, unusual arrangement for the night, but she's always stood firm for her beliefs in dressing in her cellar.
However mystifying her looks may be, the contents of her table shared the same trait. Mix of glassware and make-shift 'contraptions' of scrap she's found. In front of her, manuscripts by high lords, many with writing foreign to the common man. It is uncommon for a lady from here to read, such Erika's ability to read these papers reserved for upper society is unheard of. She has even defaced them with her writing on several occasions.
What has the lord sent her now? 'Manipulation of space-time using...' "Oi" She snatched the white script out of my hand, "You know my rules in here."
A playful smile came, "the men of the next town dare not touch me, Erika you truely bewitch me."
She looked up at me, releasing her hair into the usual river of black hitting her back. "What would you have me do I wonder?" She pulled me in for a kiss. "Wait for me outside, I have to stabilize my machine."
"Sta-bil-se, where do you pick these up?"
--
A few more and I might just be able to stabilize the portal, if only for a few seconds, it's enough.
As the pulser tripped, the entangled parties warped the hole into phase. The hole that brought me here, and the one that will bring me home. Call me Einstein, he might have came up with the theorem, but I built a working portal in medieval London!
| It was hopeless. It took her years of painstaking advancement through social ranks, starting with little more than a village idiot, of taking three steps forward and two back, of cracking one glass ceiling after another just to arrange this meeting, yet only one of the assembled feudal lords was listening and even his comprehension lefty much to be desired. Others were busy drinking, trying to feel up the maids or in one case furiously hollowing a piece of wood with a knife.
“So… you are saying this im.. imm.. immunizations can stave off another plague?” The lord sitting on her left asked, struggling with unfamiliar word.
“Loads of poppycock!” Interjected his peer opposite ”I wouldn't be surprised if those caused children to be born cretins!”
She threw a murderous glance towards the interloper, and sweet as before, returned to her target, desperately vying for an analogy he would comprehend.
“Imagine, that you have captured some warriors from a vanguard of an army invading from the east. They have weapons and armour like you have never seen before. Would you rather set them free, kill them, or put them in an arena to fight against your champions?” he was definitely interested now “It would be a risk for your soldiers, but your army would know what to expect, and how to fight a new enemy.”
His eyes lit up in comprehension.
“If you…”
But he wasn't given a chance to finish as a small projectile embedded itself in his neck. He stood up, nearly toppling the table. Bellowing in rage he reached for a dagger.
“Easy, brother, easy.” Laughed the man previously busy carving. “I have done that for your own good. See, as Elizabeth the Seer teaches, small portions of poison teach your body how to deal with real disease. So I've decided to immunize you against crossbow bolts.” He waved a miniature crossbow, he made just moments ago. “I reckon, that by the end of the month I should be able to shoot you with a proper bolt. Next month an iron tipped, and next year a ballista.”
The assembly erupted in a wave of laughter, and she knew all her work was for nothing. Sobbing, she ran out and didn't stop until she reached one of the huge iron pillars, surrounded by a sea of twisted, rusting wreckage.
She started crying openly, not only because of her failure, but because of what all of humanity lost in just a couple of centuries. She looked around, the ancient capital lain in ruins, magnificent buildings crumbled and replaced by wooden structures, overflowing Seine turning the terrain back into swampland. Only the ancient churches stood tall and proud, creating a painful dissonance with what was left of the pinnacle of human achievement.
****
High above an alien appendage relaxed and left the immediate vicinity of a kinetic strike activator. The ship's leader, who watched everything unfold through the eyes of a myriad of minuscule robots mimicking insects, wiped a sticky tear-analogue from his face; he genuinely felt for Elizabeth, and although he would cause her even more suffering before his mission was over, his soul shattered into a billion bruised pieces every time he had to cause harm.
He said a quick prayer to the Gods, both his and human, thanking for sparing what used to be Ile de France, back when he arrived for his scheduled rotation as mission coordinator. He sensed his crew's impatience, and began to issue orders in a soft and explanatory manner characteristic of his species.
“It went better than we could expect, but get the robots to apply a topical poison to the exact area where the projectile struck Lord Jean. Something that would make him rot alive, or maybe just bled out. They will be shocked, but they will only blame Elizabeth and her ideas.”
He paused, reminiscing how easy was to collapse the human civilization. No physical contact. No weapons. Just memetic viruses. Vaccines cause autism. Earth is flat. Jews are behind it. Jet fuel…
“Activate protection protocols on Elizabeth and all the others. Maximum prejudice, no need to stay secret. Before the year passes, she will be reviled as a witch, and all her ideas banned, our sage will be just like Baba Yaga from previous iteration. But for that we will have to keep her safe, and make sure she takes her medication.”
He wondered, what was she thinking, when one beautiful day she stopped aging, and even regained perfect health, while civilization crumbled all around. “I'm sorry…” he whispered.
“Now, please take us over Mr Harrison, and please prepare those angelic apparitions…”
| 2017-09-14T09:53:18 | 2017-09-14T08:26:46 | 56 | 25 |
[WP]: Your village idiot is full of the strangest superstitions. She goes on about washing one's hands, says you get worms in your intestines from standing barefoot on night soil and that medicines with mercury should be avoided at all costs. You're starting to suspect she might be onto something. | "She's something all right."
"Yes but a lady belongs in the houses, not working whatever it is she's always up to."
--
As I pull back the curtains to the cellar, the stench of her recent 'concoctions' hit me once again. Though I love her enthusiastic, or as I call it 'free-spirited' personality, others whisper where did her father go wrong.
"Where be the wicked witch of the well?"
"Oh quit it Cedrick, leave me be."
By the table, Erika stood in her favourite dress, simple, sleeveless dress showing off just a bit of her personality. Her hair brought up into a bun, unusual arrangement for the night, but she's always stood firm for her beliefs in dressing in her cellar.
However mystifying her looks may be, the contents of her table shared the same trait. Mix of glassware and make-shift 'contraptions' of scrap she's found. In front of her, manuscripts by high lords, many with writing foreign to the common man. It is uncommon for a lady from here to read, such Erika's ability to read these papers reserved for upper society is unheard of. She has even defaced them with her writing on several occasions.
What has the lord sent her now? 'Manipulation of space-time using...' "Oi" She snatched the white script out of my hand, "You know my rules in here."
A playful smile came, "the men of the next town dare not touch me, Erika you truely bewitch me."
She looked up at me, releasing her hair into the usual river of black hitting her back. "What would you have me do I wonder?" She pulled me in for a kiss. "Wait for me outside, I have to stabilize my machine."
"Sta-bil-se, where do you pick these up?"
--
A few more and I might just be able to stabilize the portal, if only for a few seconds, it's enough.
As the pulser tripped, the entangled parties warped the hole into phase. The hole that brought me here, and the one that will bring me home. Call me Einstein, he might have came up with the theorem, but I built a working portal in medieval London!
| It was hopeless. It took her years of painstaking advancement through social ranks, starting with little more than a village idiot, of taking three steps forward and two back, of cracking one glass ceiling after another just to arrange this meeting, yet only one of the assembled feudal lords was listening and even his comprehension lefty much to be desired. Others were busy drinking, trying to feel up the maids or in one case furiously hollowing a piece of wood with a knife.
“So… you are saying this im.. imm.. immunizations can stave off another plague?” The lord sitting on her left asked, struggling with unfamiliar word.
“Loads of poppycock!” Interjected his peer opposite ”I wouldn't be surprised if those caused children to be born cretins!”
She threw a murderous glance towards the interloper, and sweet as before, returned to her target, desperately vying for an analogy he would comprehend.
“Imagine, that you have captured some warriors from a vanguard of an army invading from the east. They have weapons and armour like you have never seen before. Would you rather set them free, kill them, or put them in an arena to fight against your champions?” he was definitely interested now “It would be a risk for your soldiers, but your army would know what to expect, and how to fight a new enemy.”
His eyes lit up in comprehension.
“If you…”
But he wasn't given a chance to finish as a small projectile embedded itself in his neck. He stood up, nearly toppling the table. Bellowing in rage he reached for a dagger.
“Easy, brother, easy.” Laughed the man previously busy carving. “I have done that for your own good. See, as Elizabeth the Seer teaches, small portions of poison teach your body how to deal with real disease. So I've decided to immunize you against crossbow bolts.” He waved a miniature crossbow, he made just moments ago. “I reckon, that by the end of the month I should be able to shoot you with a proper bolt. Next month an iron tipped, and next year a ballista.”
The assembly erupted in a wave of laughter, and she knew all her work was for nothing. Sobbing, she ran out and didn't stop until she reached one of the huge iron pillars, surrounded by a sea of twisted, rusting wreckage.
She started crying openly, not only because of her failure, but because of what all of humanity lost in just a couple of centuries. She looked around, the ancient capital lain in ruins, magnificent buildings crumbled and replaced by wooden structures, overflowing Seine turning the terrain back into swampland. Only the ancient churches stood tall and proud, creating a painful dissonance with what was left of the pinnacle of human achievement.
****
High above an alien appendage relaxed and left the immediate vicinity of a kinetic strike activator. The ship's leader, who watched everything unfold through the eyes of a myriad of minuscule robots mimicking insects, wiped a sticky tear-analogue from his face; he genuinely felt for Elizabeth, and although he would cause her even more suffering before his mission was over, his soul shattered into a billion bruised pieces every time he had to cause harm.
He said a quick prayer to the Gods, both his and human, thanking for sparing what used to be Ile de France, back when he arrived for his scheduled rotation as mission coordinator. He sensed his crew's impatience, and began to issue orders in a soft and explanatory manner characteristic of his species.
“It went better than we could expect, but get the robots to apply a topical poison to the exact area where the projectile struck Lord Jean. Something that would make him rot alive, or maybe just bled out. They will be shocked, but they will only blame Elizabeth and her ideas.”
He paused, reminiscing how easy was to collapse the human civilization. No physical contact. No weapons. Just memetic viruses. Vaccines cause autism. Earth is flat. Jews are behind it. Jet fuel…
“Activate protection protocols on Elizabeth and all the others. Maximum prejudice, no need to stay secret. Before the year passes, she will be reviled as a witch, and all her ideas banned, our sage will be just like Baba Yaga from previous iteration. But for that we will have to keep her safe, and make sure she takes her medication.”
He wondered, what was she thinking, when one beautiful day she stopped aging, and even regained perfect health, while civilization crumbled all around. “I'm sorry…” he whispered.
“Now, please take us over Mr Harrison, and please prepare those angelic apparitions…”
| 2017-09-14T09:53:18 | 2017-09-14T06:09:16 | 56 | 20 |
[WP]: Your village idiot is full of the strangest superstitions. She goes on about washing one's hands, says you get worms in your intestines from standing barefoot on night soil and that medicines with mercury should be avoided at all costs. You're starting to suspect she might be onto something. | "Dear, don't listen to her!"
I stood square and looked mom in the eye. "I will. She explained more of it and it all hangs together. She said we could *die*. I think we should at least… check it."
Mom took a deep breath and came around the table. "I had hoped she'd be able to hold her tongue around the kids. What a thing to obsess about! Lousy woman, not letting us handle things in our own time. Honey!"
Dad appeared momentarily. "Mmmm?"
Mom looked to me. "Would you repeat that for father?"
So I did, hesitantly.
Dad and Mom stared to each other for a moment. Then, Dad began the terrible secret of death: "Her concerns *were* real, and her solutions *were* good, once, long ago, well before we spread from our first planet…" | Yes, Madison came from our village. Well, not originally, she just wandered in one day in the strangest clothes. I was a boy then, and I didn't like playing with the others very much; I liked to poke around at the edges of town, search for elves and the like. It was just good luck I saw her first; Sun knows what Elder Mason would have done if he'd seen a woman wearing pants. And her name, too: she was obviously a daughter, not a son!
I was always so curious then, but she didn't have many answers. I was pretty sure she really didn't know where she was, or how she had come to be in the Kingdom of Hardin - well, that was what it was, in those days.
Fortunately for her, there was no shortage of land. Lord Falcon had called up a lot of men during the last war with the Kingdom of Darian, and of course they stayed together on the battlefield, trying to protect each other, and a wizard put a fireball right in the middle of the bunch from half a league away. So Lord Falcon had no problem with giving her land, as long as he got his forty percent of the harvest, and no one made any fuss about her being unmarried.
She became known as the "village idiot" pretty quickly. She was always coming around, asking the simplest questions about farming. Old Man Crandell thought she was joking at first, when she asked for seeds to plant an onion bush. And she had all sorts of arguments with the healer: everyone was laughing about her idea of boiling bandages before using them, and she kept saying that how we dealt with night soil was "un-sane-I-tarie", which no one could understand.
What really sealed it was when she actually started *arguing with Lord Falcon* during one of his visits! The last time someone had done that, his body had hung over the road for a month. She was saying that there had been no good reason for the war, that his taxes were too high - all of it true, of course, but you didn't say that sort of thing. He just leered at her and rode away.
I didn't see her for a couple of days after that. I was afraid that he'd had her killed, and I went to look for her in the one or two hours I had each day after the work was done. But she came back on the morning of the fourth day, walking slowly and painfully, with her feet unusually far apart. Anyway, after that, she utterly *hated* Lord Falcon, for reasons she would never quite explain.
Around then is also when she started hiding away in her house. My father ordered me not to talk with her, but even then I thought she was interesting. I'd see her go in and out with bags or boxes full of powders, or useless rocks, or charcoal from the charcoal burners out in the forest. After that started, she would not on any account have cooking fires in her house; even on chilly evenings, you would see her starting a fire out in the back, shivering violently. She was no good with fires either. Somehow she never caught sick though.
So being the "village idiot" was probably what kept her alive, actually. She'd made a right mess of her fields, and wouldn't have had enough to get through the winter even before the taxes.
| 2017-09-14T09:10:03 | 2017-09-14T07:33:54 | 18 | 10 |
[WP]: Your village idiot is full of the strangest superstitions. She goes on about washing one's hands, says you get worms in your intestines from standing barefoot on night soil and that medicines with mercury should be avoided at all costs. You're starting to suspect she might be onto something. | Ah old Miss Stevenson. Not getting sick when everyone has. She goes about washing her hands incessantly. She says you get worms in your intestines from standing barefoot in night soil, and the medicines with mercury should be avoided at all costs. I am among the first, but not the last to suspect that she might be onto something.
You see... she has suspicions about mercury despite its properties to be bad for you. She says worms come from your feet in night soil which are not exactly related. She washes her hands because she is guilty in her heart.
We know this because all of us have gotten sick from time to time, except Miss Stevenson. There is only one conclusion. She has caused the plight on our town and tonight we gather here, together, to show Miss Stevenson what we think of her and her ideas - she's a witch and has been harming our town. With the power vested in me as your mayor, we shall all watch as she hangs. | Yes, Madison came from our village. Well, not originally, she just wandered in one day in the strangest clothes. I was a boy then, and I didn't like playing with the others very much; I liked to poke around at the edges of town, search for elves and the like. It was just good luck I saw her first; Sun knows what Elder Mason would have done if he'd seen a woman wearing pants. And her name, too: she was obviously a daughter, not a son!
I was always so curious then, but she didn't have many answers. I was pretty sure she really didn't know where she was, or how she had come to be in the Kingdom of Hardin - well, that was what it was, in those days.
Fortunately for her, there was no shortage of land. Lord Falcon had called up a lot of men during the last war with the Kingdom of Darian, and of course they stayed together on the battlefield, trying to protect each other, and a wizard put a fireball right in the middle of the bunch from half a league away. So Lord Falcon had no problem with giving her land, as long as he got his forty percent of the harvest, and no one made any fuss about her being unmarried.
She became known as the "village idiot" pretty quickly. She was always coming around, asking the simplest questions about farming. Old Man Crandell thought she was joking at first, when she asked for seeds to plant an onion bush. And she had all sorts of arguments with the healer: everyone was laughing about her idea of boiling bandages before using them, and she kept saying that how we dealt with night soil was "un-sane-I-tarie", which no one could understand.
What really sealed it was when she actually started *arguing with Lord Falcon* during one of his visits! The last time someone had done that, his body had hung over the road for a month. She was saying that there had been no good reason for the war, that his taxes were too high - all of it true, of course, but you didn't say that sort of thing. He just leered at her and rode away.
I didn't see her for a couple of days after that. I was afraid that he'd had her killed, and I went to look for her in the one or two hours I had each day after the work was done. But she came back on the morning of the fourth day, walking slowly and painfully, with her feet unusually far apart. Anyway, after that, she utterly *hated* Lord Falcon, for reasons she would never quite explain.
Around then is also when she started hiding away in her house. My father ordered me not to talk with her, but even then I thought she was interesting. I'd see her go in and out with bags or boxes full of powders, or useless rocks, or charcoal from the charcoal burners out in the forest. After that started, she would not on any account have cooking fires in her house; even on chilly evenings, you would see her starting a fire out in the back, shivering violently. She was no good with fires either. Somehow she never caught sick though.
So being the "village idiot" was probably what kept her alive, actually. She'd made a right mess of her fields, and wouldn't have had enough to get through the winter even before the taxes.
| 2017-09-14T15:51:46 | 2017-09-14T09:12:27 | 17 | 11 |
[WP]: Your village idiot is full of the strangest superstitions. She goes on about washing one's hands, says you get worms in your intestines from standing barefoot on night soil and that medicines with mercury should be avoided at all costs. You're starting to suspect she might be onto something. | Ah old Miss Stevenson. Not getting sick when everyone has. She goes about washing her hands incessantly. She says you get worms in your intestines from standing barefoot in night soil, and the medicines with mercury should be avoided at all costs. I am among the first, but not the last to suspect that she might be onto something.
You see... she has suspicions about mercury despite its properties to be bad for you. She says worms come from your feet in night soil which are not exactly related. She washes her hands because she is guilty in her heart.
We know this because all of us have gotten sick from time to time, except Miss Stevenson. There is only one conclusion. She has caused the plight on our town and tonight we gather here, together, to show Miss Stevenson what we think of her and her ideas - she's a witch and has been harming our town. With the power vested in me as your mayor, we shall all watch as she hangs. | Yes, Madison came from our village. Well, not originally, she just wandered in one day in the strangest clothes. I was a boy then, and I didn't like playing with the others very much; I liked to poke around at the edges of town, search for elves and the like. It was just good luck I saw her first; Sun knows what Elder Mason would have done if he'd seen a woman wearing pants. And her name, too: she was obviously a daughter, not a son!
I was always so curious then, but she didn't have many answers. I was pretty sure she really didn't know where she was, or how she had come to be in the Kingdom of Hardin - well, that was what it was, in those days.
Fortunately for her, there was no shortage of land. Lord Falcon had called up a lot of men during the last war with the Kingdom of Darian, and of course they stayed together on the battlefield, trying to protect each other, and a wizard put a fireball right in the middle of the bunch from half a league away. So Lord Falcon had no problem with giving her land, as long as he got his forty percent of the harvest, and no one made any fuss about her being unmarried.
She became known as the "village idiot" pretty quickly. She was always coming around, asking the simplest questions about farming. Old Man Crandell thought she was joking at first, when she asked for seeds to plant an onion bush. And she had all sorts of arguments with the healer: everyone was laughing about her idea of boiling bandages before using them, and she kept saying that how we dealt with night soil was "un-sane-I-tarie", which no one could understand.
What really sealed it was when she actually started *arguing with Lord Falcon* during one of his visits! The last time someone had done that, his body had hung over the road for a month. She was saying that there had been no good reason for the war, that his taxes were too high - all of it true, of course, but you didn't say that sort of thing. He just leered at her and rode away.
I didn't see her for a couple of days after that. I was afraid that he'd had her killed, and I went to look for her in the one or two hours I had each day after the work was done. But she came back on the morning of the fourth day, walking slowly and painfully, with her feet unusually far apart. Anyway, after that, she utterly *hated* Lord Falcon, for reasons she would never quite explain.
Around then is also when she started hiding away in her house. My father ordered me not to talk with her, but even then I thought she was interesting. I'd see her go in and out with bags or boxes full of powders, or useless rocks, or charcoal from the charcoal burners out in the forest. After that started, she would not on any account have cooking fires in her house; even on chilly evenings, you would see her starting a fire out in the back, shivering violently. She was no good with fires either. Somehow she never caught sick though.
So being the "village idiot" was probably what kept her alive, actually. She'd made a right mess of her fields, and wouldn't have had enough to get through the winter even before the taxes.
| 2017-09-14T15:51:46 | 2017-09-14T07:33:54 | 17 | 10 |
[WP]: Your village idiot is full of the strangest superstitions. She goes on about washing one's hands, says you get worms in your intestines from standing barefoot on night soil and that medicines with mercury should be avoided at all costs. You're starting to suspect she might be onto something. | Ah old Miss Stevenson. Not getting sick when everyone has. She goes about washing her hands incessantly. She says you get worms in your intestines from standing barefoot in night soil, and the medicines with mercury should be avoided at all costs. I am among the first, but not the last to suspect that she might be onto something.
You see... she has suspicions about mercury despite its properties to be bad for you. She says worms come from your feet in night soil which are not exactly related. She washes her hands because she is guilty in her heart.
We know this because all of us have gotten sick from time to time, except Miss Stevenson. There is only one conclusion. She has caused the plight on our town and tonight we gather here, together, to show Miss Stevenson what we think of her and her ideas - she's a witch and has been harming our town. With the power vested in me as your mayor, we shall all watch as she hangs. | Yes, Madison came from our village. Well, not originally, she just wandered in one day in the strangest clothes. I was a boy then, and I didn't like playing with the others very much; I liked to poke around at the edges of town, search for elves and the like. It was just good luck I saw her first; Sun knows what Elder Mason would have done if he'd seen a woman wearing pants. And her name, too: she was obviously a daughter, not a son!
I was always so curious then, but she didn't have many answers. I was pretty sure she really didn't know where she was, or how she had come to be in the Kingdom of Hardin - well, that was what it was, in those days.
Fortunately for her, there was no shortage of land. Lord Falcon had called up a lot of men during the last war with the Kingdom of Darian, and of course they stayed together on the battlefield, trying to protect each other, and a wizard put a fireball right in the middle of the bunch from half a league away. So Lord Falcon had no problem with giving her land, as long as he got his forty percent of the harvest, and no one made any fuss about her being unmarried.
She became known as the "village idiot" pretty quickly. She was always coming around, asking the simplest questions about farming. Old Man Crandell thought she was joking at first, when she asked for seeds to plant an onion bush. And she had all sorts of arguments with the healer: everyone was laughing about her idea of boiling bandages before using them, and she kept saying that how we dealt with night soil was "un-sane-I-tarie", which no one could understand.
What really sealed it was when she actually started *arguing with Lord Falcon* during one of his visits! The last time someone had done that, his body had hung over the road for a month. She was saying that there had been no good reason for the war, that his taxes were too high - all of it true, of course, but you didn't say that sort of thing. He just leered at her and rode away.
I didn't see her for a couple of days after that. I was afraid that he'd had her killed, and I went to look for her in the one or two hours I had each day after the work was done. But she came back on the morning of the fourth day, walking slowly and painfully, with her feet unusually far apart. Anyway, after that, she utterly *hated* Lord Falcon, for reasons she would never quite explain.
Around then is also when she started hiding away in her house. My father ordered me not to talk with her, but even then I thought she was interesting. I'd see her go in and out with bags or boxes full of powders, or useless rocks, or charcoal from the charcoal burners out in the forest. After that started, she would not on any account have cooking fires in her house; even on chilly evenings, you would see her starting a fire out in the back, shivering violently. She was no good with fires either. Somehow she never caught sick though.
So being the "village idiot" was probably what kept her alive, actually. She'd made a right mess of her fields, and wouldn't have had enough to get through the winter even before the taxes.
| 2017-09-14T11:09:45 | 2017-09-14T07:33:54 | 14 | 10 |
[WP] A schizophrenic man gets sick of the voice in his head and asks it to start paying rent if it wants to live there. The next morning he finds an envelope filled with cash on his desk. | "You didn't think I would just leave, did you?" said the voice.
Paul looked closer at the envelope. "I mean... I can't say I was expecting you to pay up."
"Honestly Paul, we've known each other for *how* many years?"
Paul couldn't stop looking at the envelope. It had a green stripe printed down the right side and a plastic window pane in the bottom left. Looking closer at the window on the envelope, Paul could read "First Security Bank".
*Aren't they just down the street?*, thought Paul.
"They *are* just down the street," said the voice, "Looks like you won't be needing to work for a while. Put your feet up, Paul! Enjoy unemployment while you still have it."
Paul began carefully tearing the top of the envelope open. "Well how much is in it?"
"See for yourself!"
Paul dumped out the contents of the envelope on the kitchen counter. Countless dollar bills flooded the surface of the counter.
"Are these real- are these REALLY ALL HUNDREDS?" Paul started sweating.
"That's $13,000 Papa Paul. It's time for you and me to finally relax a bit." Paul could hear the sound of a recliner leaning back. "Go make yourself a cocktail, Paul, you deserve it."
Paul could immediately hear the sound of an ocean. Waves crashed against a sandy shore. Paul could hear footsteps on the sand.
"Your drink Mr. V," said a female voice.
"Your name is Mr. V, now?" said Paul with a smirk.
"It's V for Voice. I'm your voice, Paul. I say the things you sometimes don't wanna hear, but you know they're true."
Paul could hear the sound of Mr. V sipping on a cocktail. The sound of ice clanking against the glass made Paul's mouth begin to water.
"I suppose you're right." Paul gently gathered up his money and sorted it by thousands. Sure enough, Mr. V was right - $13,000 exactly.
"And when am I ever wrong?" asked Mr. V.
Paul gave an embarrassed laugh. "I forget how useful you are sometimes."
"Ahh, don't worry about it. I don't wanna hear it. You better go pay your rent - it's almost 8 o'clock." Mr. V took another sip of his cocktail.
Paul glanced at the clock on his stove - 7:49pm. He quickly counted out four hundred, stashed it away in his jacket pocket, and left. Paul made his way down the stone pathway towards the quaint apartment office. Paul never felt so relieved to be walking to the office with money. He couldn't remember the last time went there without being on the brink of a panic attack. Last month's rent was a close call if it wasn't for that unemployment check.
A hanging bell rang as Paul walked through the front door.
An stern-faced woman with half moon glasses looked up from counting money. "Hello Mr. Shavver, cutting it close again are we?"
Paul smiled, "Don't worry Mrs. Moore, I come prepared this time."
Paul reached in his pocket for the money, and felt nothing. | David sits at his computer, trying to type through the maelstrom of screaming. He shifts a row, typing numbers into the document as though the sounds were just the buzz of cicadas or the music of crickets, rather than the soundtrack of hell.
Pushing his glasses down and rubbing his eyes, he sighs loudly out of frustration. “You know,” He starts, tone a bit sharp, “You’re keeping me from doing the job that I have to pay the rent. Do you know what rent is?” He starts to become sarcastic, even condescending. “Rent is that thing you pay to let you have a roof over your head and to keep you safe.”
After doing another line of values in his spreadsheet, he pauses, yelling at the voices. “If you want to live here, or in my head, you might as well start paying some damn rent!”
Feeling a little bit better, he takes the quiet to mean he can go back to work, only scratching his arms occasionally. He mumbles the numbers aloud as he types them, unsettled by the near-silence.
He zones out, typing the numbers almost on autopilot. When he finishes the last line, he hears a familiar female voice, one he knew instinctively was named Leah.
She steps up close behind him, her caramel skin contrasting with his pale neck as she rests her hand on his shoulder. In the reflection of the monitor, she’s not there, though. “Come on, David, you need to go to bed. If you stay up too late, it’ll just get worse.”
He hears the jingle of her bangles, the sound of her arm rubbing against her dress as she lifts it to tuck her hair behind her ear, but in the reflection, he’s just staring at himself.
Shaking his head, he logs out of the computer, turning its screen off. He smiles at Leah, taking her hand as he walks into his room and sits down on the bed. She smiles at him, moving quickly to the other side of the bed. He shuffles down, getting into the right position and curling up to her. He wraps an arm around her, nuzzling his face into her hair as he starts to fall asleep.
In the morning, he wakes to his alarm and the voices screaming, his head pounding, eyes heavy, and him still feeling half-asleep. He looks at the clock, then hits the button to turn it off, climbing quickly out of bed and rushing into his bathroom to pee.
While standing there, he notices an unfamiliar voice whispering, or at least incredibly quiet, under the screams. Ignoring it the best he can, David finishes up, washing his hands as the toilet flushes.
He picks up his glasses from the bedside table, unsure of when he’d taken them off the night before, but glad they’re in one piece regardless. He pushes them up his nose, catching a glimpse of his wild eyes, rimmed with bags from being exhausted, staring back.
Ignoring that too, he walks back into the living room, planning on polishing the report before sending it off. Before he can even sit fully, though, he notices a letter, addressed with his name in calligraphy no less, resting on his keyboard. Using a nail, he pulls back the flap of the envelope, surprising himself when it flips up easily. What falls out, though, isn’t a letter, but bills of various denominations.
He grabs them all, noticing it says something on the flap of the envelope. He turns it, reading, “RENT” in neat handwriting.
If he hadn’t remembered snapping at the voices, he’d be confused and maybe even laugh. But instead, he clenches his jaw, starting to count out the money.
“One… two… three… eight… ten… twenty… thirty… fifty… one hundred…” He trails off, mouthing the numbers instead.
Shuffling the money through, he counts again and again until he finally accepts that there’s at least two months rent in the envelope.
The voice he’d heard under all the screaming laughs, amused at his discomfort but still too quiet to be heard properly. From what David can tell, it sounds like an older man, but it could be almost anything at this point.
He stands up quickly, grabbing the envelope and stuffing the cash back in. He closes the flap, holding the envelope tight as he stands on a small stepladder to check his shoe box safe at the top of the closet.
He shakes his head as he pulls down the box, seeing that there’s already a stuffed envelope in there. Shoving the other one in as well, he closes the box and tosses it back into its place on the shelf.
Looking around, he hunts for any clues as to where the money came from. Picking up his keyboard, he finds a single penny, but nothing else.
In the kitchen, he sees a figure, all white with the exception of the shoes, cutting something. David steps closer and closer, especially after seeing it has no reflection like Leah.
Turning back toward David, the man grins wickedly. “Oh, I see you got my payment. I do enjoy a good show, and I’m so pleased you chose to let me stay in here. I do believe we’ll get to be good friends, don’t you?"
-----
This is based off of the characters of my most popular prompt fill, if they sound familiar at all.
Check out my other writings on http://allharlowseve.wordpress.com/ to see what I've written lately, I'd appreciate it. xo | 2018-02-03T07:12:29 | 2018-02-03T06:32:54 | 22 | 15 |
[WP] You are an archaeologist who just unearthed an ancient tomb. Among the pottery and sarcophagi, you find a pristine business card with only a phone number on it. | "Do you see that?!" Jeb said shining his light towards the ground. "It's a buisness card of some kind"
Scott bent down to examine it closer. He picked it up, peering at the embossed number. "This is mine" he said stuffing it back into his jacket pocket. "Must have fallen out during the excavation"
"Oh" said Jeb. | Castle stared down at the card, suddenly feeling so very alone in the tomb.
*How could this be?*
The seal had not been broken, he was sure of it. This tomb had been undisturbed for millennia, but this card barely had a speck of dust on it.
And still, there was the troubling reality of the sarcophagus. It was empty. Completely bare. The prince should have been a desiccated corpse, but not completely *gone*.
He needed to get to the bottom of this. It was his job description, after all.
******
The phone rang, once, twice, thrice. He sat in his humid hotel room, clutching the phone, staring at the card. He did not recognize the number.
*Click*
"Congratulations," a voice said, rasping over the phone. "Most impressive, my good man."
"Who is this?" Castle replied, his fingers digging into the receiver. "What was this card doing in the tomb?"
"A job listing. Much more effective than 'Craigslist', I think you'll find. We wanted someone who we could rely on, and what better way than putting it where no one could find it?"
"Impossible," he replied, "that tomb has been locked for thousands of years. There is no way someone could have gone in there short of magic."
"You're a quick learner, Castle," the voice replied. "We have a proposition for you."
Castle's heart dropped. *How did they know his name?*
"What do you want me to find?" he asked, his words measured. .
"It's not so much *what* as *when*, I think you'll find," the voice said.
"What do you mean?"
"The missing corpse in the tomb - that was no grave robber, and that was no corpse. We have reason to believe that the person ensconced in the tomb escaped."
"Escaped? How?" Castle replied. "What are you trying to suggest?"
"That is for you to find out," the voice said. "We can only guide you to the right direction. Do you accept?"
"Accept *what*, damn you," Castle replied, his voice rising, "what the hell do you want from me? What happens if I *accept*?"
"You are about to find out," the voice said.
*Click*
There was a sinking feeling in his chest. It felt like the bed he was sitting on was drawing him into it, like it would swallow him whole. A fatigue set into him and everything felt so very wrong, like reality itself was ethereal.
And then he looked at the black below, and he sank into it without a word.
Inside the dusty tomb, the sarcophagus clamped shut. | 2018-07-16T00:28:27 | 2018-07-15T23:42:05 | 550 | 66 |
[WP] While driving you hit and kill a boy. You feel terrible, and at the funeral you tell the family you wish you had died instead of him. 3 weeks later, a new surgery comes out that can bring someone back from the dead at the cost of another's life. You hear a knock at your door. It's the family. | *Note: I just wrote another story for this prompt in the replies below. Let me know which sorry you like better!*
It wasn't until I had the chance to die that I realized I still wanted to live.
Sitting next to the parents, seeing their faces as the ER surgeon came out of the room and shook his head, I was convinced I wanted to die. After all, I was the reason they boy was was all but dead.
He wasn't fully dead, not really. But the trauma to his organs made life support and a medically induced coma necessary. The doctors said he couldn't be brought out of the coma without ending his life.
I begged the parents for their forgiveness, insisting I would trade places with their boy in an instant. The mother looked at me hopelessly, but I'll never forget the father's look of anger, pain, and contempt. I think he knew how hollow my words were, even though at the time I had convinced myself they were sincere.
When news came out of a brain transplant technique, I didn't feel relief, only fear that the parents would track me down and insist I give up my body to make things right. I had been dreading their call, but each passing week made that seem less likely.
My heart skipped a beat when I answered the door, and saw the boy's parents on my porch. The father had been crying, and the mother had her arm around him protectively.
I froze. Just as the words "I can't" were about to leave my cowardly mouth, the father spoke.
"He said he forgives you," the father said.
That didn't make sense. The parents had never had a chance to talk to their son after the accident.
"Who forgives me?" I asked, barely daring to hope that maybe the doctors were wrong, and the boy had recovered enough to be brought out of his coma.
The father took his hat off, revealing a fresh scar traveling across his forehead.
"My father." | A leap of faith. That's how they'd pleaded with me, a leap of faith. I wasn't someone who normally had a lot of faith, but I couldn't have really argued with them, they'd just lost their son.
I'd tried to reason with myself that it wasn't my fault, that it was just one huge accident. I was right, somewhat, it had been an accident, but it was all my fault. The boy hadn't been careless, he hadn't jay-walked, he was following the rules. It was all my fault.
I don't remember much from what happened after I hit him, it was all a blur. Adrenaline and fear had rushed through me, I'd rushed out of my vehicle, I'd picked up the bruised and bleeding middle school boy, I'd called an ambulance, I'd been with him as we went to the hospital. But that's all I can really remember, no specifics.
The next thing I remember specifically after that was my conversation with his parents. I'll never forget the looks on their faces, complete horror. I don't know of words that would describe it any better. They'd looked so angry, so sad, so broken, it was as if their minds couldn't properly display what they were feeling onto their faces.
The boy's parents, the Millers, were understanding, and poor, so they didn't press charges. That didn't mean that they liked me, but they could at least somewhat appreciate, through the haze of grief, that I'd stayed with him until he died in the hospital.
"Please state your name and your explicit consent for the record." A female voice broke through, seizing me and bolting me back in reality.
"M-Martín Alvarado," I said weakly, trying to convince myself that I was really doing the right thing. "I completely, and of my own free will, agree with all of the conditions of the 'Savoir' procedure."
The surgeon I was talking to quickly wrote something down on the form in her hand and motioned for me to lie down on the surgery table. My hands were shaking and stalled myself by taking one last look around the dark, minimal surgery room I was gonna die in. The only thing in the room that wasn't signature to a jail cell was the machine hooked up to the table.
The surgeon looked up at me, one of her eyebrows raised, and I looked back at the table. Sighing and forcing myself to accept it, I laid down on that metal surgery table. The seemingly emotionless woman then lowered her eyebrow and walked over to start hooking me up.
It all happened in a blur, which did not sit well with me. I wanted to be alive for as long as possible, but it happened so quickly, the man came in, he put the mask on me and started the anesthesia. The woman hooked up whatever device it was to my chest and my hands. Just as my consciousness was fading away, I heard her take the exact time that the procedure began. I knew I was about to die, I knew it and I hadn't fully accepted it, but I couldn't do anything about it, it was out of my hands.
A leap of faith... a leap of faith... leap of faith... I just kept repeating that phrase, over and over as I faded away, sure of the end.
 
I opened my eyes. Were they my eyes? I couldn't tell, I felt them, but they felt alien. Where was I? Hadn't I just died?
The table I was sitting on felt different, the room around me looked slightly different, my whole body felt different. What the hell was going on? Just as I was about to use the mouth that I was sure didn't belong to me, someone entered the room crying. It was the mother, the mother of the boy I'd hit, what was she doing here?
I tried asking why she was here, and why she was crying, when the father came in as well.
"It worked..." the mother sobbed. "How do you feel honey?"
I froze, her words echoing in my head. Actually, it wasn't my head, as I'd just figured out, and those surgeons had definitely been wrong about this god damned procedure.
---
Excerpt from *Savior Protocol* from the Bookshelf of the Gods. /r/BoTG
 
| 2018-09-16T16:40:02 | 2018-09-16T15:38:35 | 5,661 | 1,313 |
[WP] Magic exists, however with a catch. Everyone can only use magic the way they expect magic to function. Harry Potter fans MUST do weird wand waving while Call of Cthulhu players all end up going insane. Write an interaction or duel between two vastly different magic users.
Honestly if magic did exist in our world, this is how I’d expect it to function to please everyone
—-
Wow front page! That’s actually amazing | I'm the first to admit I drew the short straw in the magic lottery. Oh, people assumed I would be all for it on M-day, me the 'Professional Magician' finally getting the appreciation I deserved. Finally my parents would be proud of me, finally my wife wouldn't lie and tell people I was an accountant at parties.
​
That's all well and good except for the fact I hate fantasy books, Narnia can get stuffed and Tolkien bores me to tears.. I know my old 'magic' was slight of hand, misdirection and the odd marked deck, but given my lack of exciting alternatives and the slightly iffy logic behind M-Day itself... that was the magic I was given.
​
So now I can throw a playing card against a wall and don't even have to look, I know it will stick, with your initials scribbled over it. I know I can smash your phone on the ground only to have it reappear in an orange. I barely have to cough before a stream of cards flies out of my mouth and every hat I own has to be checked for rabbits with each wear. And if I place a hand anywhere close to my son's head I come away with a shiny silver dollar or worse.. his nose... magic or not that scared him half to death.
​
'Oh but surely you can fly now?' say my friends. NO, I can float 8 inches off the ground while clamping my legs together like I need the bathroom, doesn't matter that now it's done without any angles or shadows, that's all I could do before and that's all I can manage now.
​
I'm basically immortal now, not that death has any real impact these days... last week I got hit by a bus but by the time the crowd reached my body, various resurrection spells at the ready, all they found was a coat. Suddenly I was behind them all waiting for my applause, which never came because now people see dragons every other minute and death is more of a minor inconvenience. Of course the temporal shift of me going from bus to pavement to choreographed reveal did a right number on my stomach and I vomited almost immediately into a bin... which of course was another stream of playing cards. | woop, posted to a response, instead of post... Repost.
"The Wheel of Time turns, and Ages come and pass, leaving memories that become legend. Legend fades to myth, and even myth is long forgotten when the Age that gave it birth comes again. In one Age, called the Third Age by some, an Age yet to come, an Age long past, a wind rose in the Mountains of Mist. The wind was not the beginning. There are neither beginnings nor endings to the turning of the Wheel of Time. But it was a beginning."
The light of the moon cast strange shadows Down the steps of a large gothic mansion. One shadow slithered it's way to the grey sedan in the driveway, snapping his robes with a flick of his wrist as he sat in the drivers seat, a sense of urgency was in the air. The soft squeal of rubber gave confirmation.
"I don't understand, why am I being called to stop someone from yelling?
"Not yelling, shouting. He yells incoherently and shit flies across the bloody room!"
"I still don't get how this is The Black Tower's problem. And before you ask, yes I'm already on my way. I was hoping this was going to be a little more exiting."
"Thank you, Saemal. Who knows, maybe it will turn. Out to be fun?"
* * *
"That's the point smart one! By the nine, it's not that hard. You worship dragons. I kill dragons. I kill you. Now stand still and let me cut you!" The hulking brute of a man, wearing nothing but a bullet proof vest and pants, lunged with his sword.
There was a shriek, as a much smaller man was gored through the chest. If it were not for the drains, the kitchen floor would have been slick with blood. The scattered pots and pans and half cooked meals made for a chaotic scene. The brute walked through the double doors and into the dinning room. He noticed a man in black robes at the entrance.
* * *
Saemal saw the brute first, and immidiatly regreted coming. This man was big enough to cause this havoc with out magic. *I ought to just leave this for the civilian police.*
He was caught off guard by the wave of blue light coming for him. It hit him before he could react. As he landed on his back he heard it:
*FUS! ROH DAH!*
Like a thunder clap after silence, his ears rang as he stood up, dazed, only to be shoulder checked by the charging brute. Laying on his back, he came to.
A soft light appeared around him, and he fell through a hole in the floor.
* * *
The brute looked in awe at the place where the man had been. He knew of The Black Tower, but had never faced an *Aes Sedai*. This was going to be interesting. He could feel his own stamina returning after the shout. *Where did he go?*
* * *
Dropping from the ceiling behind the brute, Saemal released a storm of fireballs, channeling *Saidin* through the cuff on his wrist.
*WULD! NAH KEST!*
Saemal tried to understand why he was airborne, on a collision course with the wall behind him. Again he wondered if he should have stayed home. For different reasons now.
A hole appeared on the wall, and shrank to nothing after he passed through.
"Sneaking through these holes will only work for so long, witch!"
"Oh we are quit done here", he said, sounding bored. Purple light erupted from his outstreched palm, forming a beam of soundless energy, headed straight for the brute.
*FIEM!*
As the beam passed through the brute, he turned a pale blue, and ran to the side, the beam chasing him to the far wall before fizzling out.
"Bloody ashes! What are you?"
"I am Dovakiin, dragonborn."
*FUS ROH DAH!*
The brute smiled as his thu'um traveled across the room. The smile faded when he saw a reflection of himself appear in front of the man. Except he was looking at his back... He turned just in time to get hit in the face with his own shout. He landed hard.
He felt his arms being tugged, and the soft linen of robes, then the cold metal of the witch's shackles.
* * *
--
This is my first post in here, sorry if formating get screwed, I'm.on Mobil. I'll try and fix it in the morning before work if it's bad. | 2018-10-16T03:09:42 | 2018-10-16T00:41:38 | 42 | 13 |
[WP] You made a Deal with the Devil to be the greatest musician in the world. Thing is you haven’t gotten any *better*, but everyone reacts to your inept scratchings as if they are the greatest symphony ever devised, showering you with wealth and adoration. It’s *really* getting embarrassing | A plume of thick heatless flame filled the sun-lit office and a suave man with thick black hair sauntered out of the smoke. "What is it my man?"
The best thing about making a deal with the devil was that you technically became business partners. He always answered my calls. Right now he was a sort of agent that helped me with my music career.
"Ive been meaning to talk to you about this. I dont know if i can do the musician thing anymore."
He frowned and adjusted the thick glasses on his face. "Well let's talk this out. What seems to be the problem?"
"I think it would be better to show you." I picked up my plate from my desk and scraped the last of the pie into the garbage. The devil raised his eyebrow and patiently watched me walk to my door, and open it to the hallway. A few dozen people were roaming the office halls or standing around.
I looked at the Devil and pointed to the plate. He nodded to show he was going along with it. I put the tip of my fork up against the plate, and started scraping.as.loudly.as.possible. It was a horrid sound that gave me goosebumps and the devil's skin became flushed. But everybody in the hallway stopped and looked towards me.
"HEY, KEEP IT UP!" someone shouted as a few people murmured in delight and i think someone even started clapping. I closed the door and threw the plate back onto the desk.
"Ohhhhhhh" the Devil smiled. "Well Mr. Artist why don't we see about getting you a new instrument-"
"NO. It's not the instrument! It's ANY instrument. The deal was to become a "better musician", but I'm not a *better* musician. You get what I'm saying?"
"Arty, man, I totally get where you're coming from. We can work on this. Get someone to give you lessons." He began to give me finger guns but he saw my glare and just ran his hand through his hair instead.
"They would just become enamored with my playing. And i dont have the money to afford that."
"Ah yea that's right. Sorry i cant change our spiritually-binding contract. You remember your side of the deal right?"
"Yea...I work for exposure instead of money"
This wasnt some monkey-paw deal, we were business partners and this was the best way for us to enter showbiz. We really HAD to work with each other. What a bad idea.
The Devil patted my back and penciled me in for piano lessons. "We will figure out the budget ourselves when I get back, i need to deal with a client."
He had no other clients.
"In the meantime, try to lay off the pie man haha."
I was underweight.
He disappeared in a cloud of fire and sparkles. I sat back in my chair and tapped a ruler against the end of my desk absentmindedly.
In the hall outside my door, very faintly, I heard clapping | Like most people, I'm not averse to taking the odd shortcut be that literally or figuratively. Quicker route home? I'm on it. Get round that job at work by passing the buck? Rabbit throwing is my talent! But this...this is different.
I've often wondered if lottery winners feel a crushing sense of fraud? You know? Imposter syndrome...something along those lines that just scream "you don't belong here...you didn't earn this!"
I've always loved music; guitar music in particular. I had many heroes in my early teenage years that have followed me into adulthood. My wife thinks it's sad that a grown man has posters up of his favourite guitar players on the walls of our study.
I'd dabbled in my later teen years with learning guitar but I had to be honest to be with myself, I really just spent $1,000 on that strat because I liked how it looked slung over my shoulders whenever I stood in front of the wordrobe mirror. Currently, the placid blue slab of wood and strings was barely more than a dust gathering ornament. I didn't need the money so wasn't looking to sell it. But why was it there? It had got to the point where just looking at it made me feel guilty for not even trying.
The conceptual blob of thought and memory vanished into my subconsciousness as I looked down at that same guitar as it rested against my abdomen. My left hand was cradling the neck and I slowly glanced upwards, eyes wincing at the bright lights. I was stood stage left as Guthrie Govan was gushing into microphone about a new musician the likes of which he had never heard before. If you know anything about Guthrie, you'd know that this was high praise indeed. To say I look up to Guthrie would be an understatement. He is one of the finest guitar players and musicians to ever grace the instrument. It took me a moment to realise who he was talking about.
He introduced me by name and gestured me on stage with a beaming grin. A smile so wide I wondered for a moment if perhaps he knew...he knew I was about to crash and burn; and I deserved every moment of the humiliation that would follow.
I shuffled on stage in a manner beffiting someone that really shouldn't be there. My gait was that of a person that had never taken a stride onto a stage before and yet the audience went berserk.
Guthrie had introduced a piece I was going to play by name yet it didn't matter. It didn't matter what I played. Everyone just heard something different. I so wished I could at least hear what they could hear.
I went to say something into the microphone and as I looked up at the audience my throat went dry and a blanket of tears covered my eyes. I was beyond nervous. I was petrified.
I turned the volume of my guitar up and just...started.
A hush fell over the crown in front of me. I had already passed the first bar of music. "This is fucking ridiculous!" I thought to myself. The spotlight made this feel like an interogation and I swear I could feel it burning my skin as I clumsily wandered into the second bar of Silent Night...played very, very badly.
There was a hugh in the auditorium that was followed by muted sniffles and...was that sobbing I could hear? I just couldn't tell if I'd been found out. My mind started to wander. I find it does this as a defence mechanism...I like to think. That is something I don't need help with.
What's the logic here? Would they really be crying becuase I was dreadful? No that's unlikely. By now people would be laughing, yelling and perhaps even throwing things at me. I have attended gigs like that! Perhaps they feel sorry for me?
Fuck it!
I cut Silent Night short and started playing the open strings of my guitar as fast as I could whilst making devil horns with my left hand. The audience went into a frenzy! You know Eruption by Van Halen? Yea, I don't either but I gave it a fucking go! I could not play nor do anything wrong on that stage. I considered stripping naked and setting my guitar on fire and had to remind myself that I'm not actually a rock star, I have a farners tan and in this day and age you are never going to find something to set fire to an instrument with anywhere near a public event.
I blasted out one last (not a proper) power chord and decided to stop. I felt like I'd been on stage around 10 minutes. It did go by pretty fast. People were crying, screaming, yelling...and all this resting on top of a standing ovation. I would be informed later than I had been on stage nearly three hours.
I looked at the side of the stage. Guthrie was speechless. He gave me a big hug then wandered to the microphone to ask "how do you do that? You have to show me!!!"
I smiled, took a bow and left the stage.
As I walked to the stair that led to the dressing room I felt a cold chill in the air like a loading bay door had been left wide open.
A voice from behind me said "I know how you did that."
​
Edit: typos but I can't be bothered fixing them. | 2019-12-02T03:48:34 | 2019-12-02T02:38:34 | 143 | 41 |
[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.) | A soft buzz took me from dreaming to wishing I didn’t set an alarm. Tomorrow was president’s day, a day off from the monotony of every day modern life. If I had to use one word to describe what my life was like, it would be gray. I ate plain toast in the morning. I had an accounting job. I have two close friends which is the perfect number to be comfortable but not popular. I began to get up hoping the alarm didn’t wake up my roommate, she’s got a fiery temper, but once I sat up I realized the room was pitch black. I reached for my phone and among the many update and notifications I spotted a particular message. I’ve never seen this icon before. I was so sure I didn’t have the app downloaded. I unlocked my home screen with three simple taps and opened the app. While half expecting a virus, my eyes read: To leave this world you must answer yes. I squinted at these ridiculous words. This is what I’ve awaken up for? Annoyed, I toss the phone back on the charger and wrap myself deep underneath the warmness of blankets. While dreaming my brain thought about the time back in middle school running across the fields with the boys pretending to be playing something we were not. They were Good times. There were fun times. Yet now they were passed times. I used to love the adventure. I used to have imagination. What happened to that version of myself?
And with that, my real alarm blared at ten times the normal value and before I could even respond my roommate slaps it across the bedroom. I watched with my eyebrows peaked and my mouth gaping in horror as my precious phone that I saved up 3 months worth of bonuses for flew with the speed of an arrow tarting towards the other side. I screamed, “No!” But no wasn’t enough to convey my terror. You see dear listener I am what you would call an Azur lane addict. I’ve spend hundreds of hours and thousands of dollars into the mobile legend that is the Azur Lane. My side of the room is filled to the brim with collectibles, posters, Knick Knacks of cute ship Waifus. My phone was my only gate way into their world and without it I couldn’t bare to live another gray day, Azur lane was the only thing that painted color into my life. I see my phone smash into the wall all the way at the edge of the room. I flew out of bed cursing my roommates nasty temper under my breath. When I reached my phone I cradled the injured little soldier in my palms. He suffered a major cracked screen and was barely flickering with life. I knew it wasn’t going to last long. I had to get the log in bonus in Azur lane before my little soldier goes KIA. With three simple taps I unlocked the phone, however something else stoped me from reaching happiness. The app I opened last night refused to close. I tried doing anything from switching tabs to force closing and nothing was working. I was stuck on that app with the same question. At this point I started to hyperventilate a little. I couldn’t risk restarting my phone. So, I went for it. I answered the question in hopes of getting past this stupid thing and to the Valhalla I truly wanted to go. Of course my problem was answering yes. You see, I realized that I hated the world I was in. I wanted to escape that room, escape that apartment, escape my daily life. So, I answered yes.
When I did, I felt myself sinking. I felt my self slump on the floor with each fiber of my muscles relaxing at the same time. My eyelids drew to a close as my head hit the floor. The last thing I saw and heard was my roommate with teary eyes asking if I was okay. When I blinked again, I couldn’t feel my head on the floor. In fact, my head was covered in some sort of metal helmet. There was nothing remarkable about that fact compared to the rest of my experiences. I saw a full line of bustling T34 tanks rolling over defensive lines. I saw fuming wrecks and still warm bodies. I saw the tracers of hundreds of artillery shells screeching over head. I stood still as a mannequin. My legs refused to move an inch. My arms locked like they were in casts. When I wanted to leave my world behind I wanted to go somewhere safe and fun. I wanted to party with some ship girls not get shipped into a war. In my moment of utter brain defeat, I managed to pick up a weird feeling in my right pocket. It took incredible willpower to reach into my pants and find not a live grenade or some sort of switchblade but rather my phone. My damaged phone was spotless and repaired in a war torn area. With three simple taps I unlocked my phone hoping, dying, for some answers. The accursed app transitioned from a question screen into a full blown exposition dump. I skimmed quite a bit. I always considered my reading a strong suit of mine but I’ve never practiced reading a terms and services while being shot at. After getting through about three pages of text I understand the situation. I’m not in Kansas anymore. You see dear listener, I was transported into the world of the video game I last played. Through an in app messaging board I was able talk to several other people in this world too and I learned quite a lot. One said: To leave you must win. Your prize is all you gain in this world. Good luck!” From another I learned that this isn’t just any world. It was the world of Company of Heroes 2, aka World War 2. Azur lane didn’t count apparently cause it was a mobile game and the creator of the app had something against mobile. One poster was particularly unhelpful. He said:
Roses are red
Violets are blue
I’m stuck on the Eastern Front
AND SO ARE FUCKING YOU.
Edit: spelling and grammar and stuff. | 2020-02-17T00:45:30 | 2020-02-16T23:39:49 | 31 | 14 |
[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.) | The voice faded into my mind as another came.
"Hey, Khontis. You seriously napping?"
My eyes opened as a strangely familiar face came to view.
"You sure know how to sleep. It was sure nice of Naoya ask us to meet him out here on a hot day like this, huh?"
I grunted and rubbed my eyes as I took him in, a blue t-shirt with a white hat, bright eyes and a bag with a laptop in it was slug over his shoulder. This was, in every sense, Atsuro.
Behind him stood a boy in a black shirt with headphones on, his eyes were careful and aware. "Kazuya met with us here." Atsuro continued, "So how have you two been? Normally I see you two during the school year so I feel like it's been forever."
Kazuya, known as Abel among his friends as his mobile handle...I couldn't help but wonder...Deep down inside how this would turn out.
Kazuya, the reincarnation of Abel. If this was the game I would think that position would be me. But with another here...
"Hey, what's wrong Khon? You doing okay?" Atsuro asked.
"Uh...fine. Anyway, what does your cousin want?"
"OH THERE You all are!" A female voice called.
"Oh hey, here comes YooHoo." Atsuro smiled.
I didn't need to look to know. A redhaired girl wearing pink. Her bag looked heavy, all I could think of as Yuzu yelled at the two boys for using her old nickname was if there was a COMP in there for me.
After a few bummed looks and sighs of disappointment Yuzu handed htem out. A blue one for Atsuro, a red one for Kazuya, a pink one for Yuzu.
She turned and tossed one into my lap.
And a purple one for me.
I opened it up but didn't bother turning it on. I knew it would have to wait for the rest, I also knew what would be said.
The Laplace Mail about the man near where Naoya lived would be killed. And later tonight the Wendigo would show up.
I would have to fight demons.
To be honest, I wasn't *too* worried. I mean at first I'd be really up a creek, always was the first time around with the first of the Bel's but I had played and beat this game so many times I understood the strategy. And I always loved the Megami Tensei games. But...
They were games. If I died here...
I'd have to live.
"Peaceful Days died. Lets survive" I whispered.
"Huh? what's wrong?" Kazuya asked.
"Nothing."
"Well... I need to do more research. Why don't you guys head off and hang around."
"Sounds good." Yuzu replied and I followed the pair as their conversation carried like I remembered.
It wasn't long before we heard a voice calling out.
"Now along with our Shomonkai, let us bring the world together! With the power of the internet the world will be one once more!"
Yuzu gripped along as Kazuya rolled his eyes and they spoke. Even more trouble.
"Hey! You coming?" Yuzu called as they moved through the crowds to leave. I held the comp tightly in my hands, not wanting to release it. There'd be trouble if I did. Soon...
I looked to my watch. It was almost six and we were walking by Omotesando.
I stood aside as the sirens wailed and Yuzu spoke about Naoya.
We hurried there, and like clockwork a tall man with long hair in a kimono looked to them. "Oh, its you guys. What are you doing here?"
His snake like eyes narrowed at me and I tensed.
Naoya, the reincarnation of Cain.
He spoke to them and continued onward past them toward me. I gritted my teeth as he spoke. "The door of truth will open. Overcome your fate."
He eyed me as they past and I glared at him. "I hope you can overcome this trial as well. Don't leave me disappointed." He whispered.
I glowered.
Naoya *knew* i didn't belong here.
"I'll try to impress." I remarked.
"What was that about?" Yuzu asked.
"Nothing. Lets go."
Kazuya's phone rang and sent us back to Atsuro.
He gave his usual computer talk before Yuzu called him to just unlock them.
I stood ready as they shined and four demons emerged. Kobold, Pixie and Kabuso all for them. Expected.
And before me going after me, was an ogre.
"Nice...Lets go!"
Yuzu screamed as the pixie went after her, Atsuro dodged the Kabuso's attack and Kazuya and I both seemed to be the first to jump to the fray.
The battle was simple but still, I could feel my adrenaline rush as I slammed into the Ogre a final time.
"YOU BEAT OGRE. OGRE NOW YOURS. USE ME IN FIGHT. FIGHT LOTS!" he said as he disappeared.
Yuzu began her freak out as Atsuro calmed her. Finally on the notion to go see Naoya we ended up back in his appartment.
"Look! It's Naoya's box!" Atsuro pointed.
"Yea. it's full of stuff. It looks like he hasn't been here in a long time." Yuzu agreed.
"So we were lucky to see my cousin."
Our Comps lit up with mail and as I read them I knew where they'd lead.
To the cemetary. To Amane.
"Should we go?" Yuzu asked.
"He did say 'person'" Kazuya noted.
"Yea. He would have said 'demon' or someone; if he meant anything else.Lets go." | 2020-02-17T00:45:30 | 2020-02-16T16:08:36 | 31 | 12 |
[WP] You were once the demon king. "Defeated" by the hero, you went into hiding to pursue a simpler life. Today the "hero" has appeared, threatening you family to pay tribute, not realizing who you actually are. Today you show them what happens when you have something worth fighting to protect. | "Your race is revolting, your ancestors gone, your once great Demon Lord dead. And yet, you live here, on Earth, an abomination to all that is Holy," Elijah roared at my family. My human wife, my half demonic children, whilst I stood still, in my human form, one that Elijah had not seen as the form was once repulsive to me.
My children, however, did not have the power to hide even just their demonic eyes. Giant red and beautiful, my sweet rubies, my reason for living in this world. They cowered behind my wife, the light of my life. The one who accepted me. No, the one who overpowered me into submission with just the look in her eyes.
And they were being ostracised by the "Good" of this wretched Earth.
I continued to bide my time.
"We have done no harm," my wife said back with an unwavering, stern tone that did not show any weakness.
Elijah did not take well to being defied.
"You, woman!" Elijah yelled, clicking his fingers. His Royal guards matched to my wife and dragged her forward, forcing her to her knees.
"You will repent for your filthy sins. You will accept penance as you beg our Holy Lord for forgiveness for this heinous crime. And these creatures will be slaughtered, to join their kind in the pits of Hell," Elijah finished his infuriating speech. And then he turned to me.
"You, demon," he called, raising his hand to click his fingers again. I wasn't sure how he knew from my disguise and a part of me suspected he knew my wife before, but that wasn't really on my mind.
Before he could click his fingers, I flicked my finger forward and a bolt of lightning hit Elijah square in the chest.
"For Hell's sake, Satan! I told you *not* to show your powers to this freak!" my wife roared at me, going to smack my face.
"Ariel, sweetheart. He's murdering my demons. And threatened our children," I added carefully. Elijah was already getting back to his feet.
"Alright fine. This time, you can win. Just be back next week," she rolled her eyes.
That was all I needed. I transformed my body back into its original fiery form, black eyes, taller, my dark wings and tail flowing behind me.
My kids giggled as I flew into Elijah, throwing him back into the wilderness beyond our simple cottage and my simple life.
Last time, my wife told me I couldn't just take over the Earth. That Elijah will enforce goodness everywhere. We had made a bet. Should she be wrong, I'd run this world. And I would. However, getting the demons back on my side was going to be my real challenge, now that I was no longer the King.
And my younger brother was. | “It still hurts where he stabbed me.”
Those were the first thoughts that came into Azkellan’s head as he read the letter. A finely crafted thing he mused, thick paper surrounded by gold filigree and a seal stamped with an unmistakable sigil; a bull’s head on fire.
A ridiculous thing he remembered. “Bulwiyf the raging bull” with his bull helmet, charging at him like a frenzied dog, nipping at the heels of a god. Azkellan remembered laughing, an insect to be swatted away like so many others... or so he thought. The wound stung even more than as he recalled. It was as if reliving the past reopened it.
It has been a strange journey since Azkellan’s defeat so many years ago. His empire toppled, his armies scattered and himself barely clinging to life. He should have died, it was a good hit, square on the chest. But he didn’t. He crawled away as his dominion crumbled around him. He should have died... but instead the skeins of fate had other plans.
“You look troubled dear” Azkellan’s wife commented. “Something the matter?” “Oh it’s nothing, just the taxman wanting more is all” Azkellan replied. “Something about tribute. I would have though we paid enough”
Azkellan’s wife was not convinced. It was a strange thing for the taxmen to require tribute.. it was even stranger that there were taxmen at all. They lived in the free marches away from everyone. They were not beholden to any kingdom and owed no allegiance to any power. It was a poor lie the wife thought and worried her further.
“Azkellan tell me what’s wrong, who was that letter from and what do they want?” Azkellan sighed. His wife knows much about his past even though they don’t talk about it much these days. It was she who saved him, who nursed him back to health and showed him a way to live that brought a small measure of peace to him. He almost forgot who he was. The letter reminded him that maybe he could not really escape it.
“We are not safe here any longer” Azkellan replied. “Gather your things and take the children to the mountain passes, like we talked about. You should have provisions to last you through the winter.” “Azkellan... you can’t mean-“ “he’s found us... maybe he does not know who he’s asking tribute from or if he even remembers me... but I have to assume he does” Azkellan interjected.
The threats were clear and vivid. “We shall burn down your home, take what is yours. Should you have family they will be ours, your wife, daughters you will watch as we ravage them. Your sons will be fed to our hounds, the screams like music to our ears. You will watch it all and beg for death before it ends.” It was flowery stuff, but it was written seriously. Azkellan knows a valid threat when he sees it. He cannot take chances. He does not pay tribute. He could not. He will not.
“Go now love and don’t tarry... do as I say please” Azkellan begged. “You will not come with us?” His wife asked. “I cannot. We can’t pay this tribute so I have to go and set it right”.
Azkellan’s wife did not argue. The eventuality Of this moment was talked and rehearsed hundreds of times before. They prepared, for many years for it to come. Now it is here and despite her desire to just run away with him and their family to the mountain passes, she knew that it could not be. Even a demon has a devil on his back. He cannot run away from it. He must confront it.
Azkellan went outside and began digging. He hoped he never had to but before he could wish it away he was already done. He opened the chest at the bottom of his dig and donned his armor. It felt heavier than the last time he wore it. Wrought of black iron and bound to his soul. He found the whispers of his Armor’s spirit grating... like a cold sweat on his neck. He also found it familiar, like an old rake that felt right to hold. He grabbed his axe and felt its weight. A thousand souls sang a painful symphony inside it. They grow restless which made the weapon quiver in his hand. “Zirmoch the winter’s reaping” it was called. Forged from a heart of a falling star and quenched by the blood of innocents. Azkellan wanted to throw it into the bowels of the earth. He was glad he did not.
He kissed his wife and children goodbye. Their sobbing eyes looked at him as if they can change his mind, perhaps to leave it all behind. He turned around as started walking. He knew the way. East by the river’s fork and north towards the dragon’s teeth. 500 leagues away Bulviyf waited. The raging bull sat on a throne of iron. Azkellan’s throne before, waiting for it’s true master to come home. | 2020-09-23T00:36:14 | 2020-09-23T00:11:56 | 34 | 14 |
[WP] You've spent the last 10 years living 2 different lives, one during your waking hours, and one in your dreams. You're beginning to lose track of which life is the real one. | The sun shone through the trees, its icy rays making me shiver as I rush back inside to grab my jacket. I fumble for my keys in my pocket before remembering that the door is voice-activated.
"Rats!"
BEEP. "Incorrect, please try again."
"Double rats!"
BEEP. "Incorrect, please try again. As a reminder, you need to state your name."
"Susan Milla"
BEEP. "Incorrect, please try again." BEEEEEP. "You have two remaining tries."
I bite my tongue and shake my head. Susan isn't my name, at least not here. To be honest, I'm not sure if it's my name at all.
"Salleai Mitch"
BEEP. BEEP. "Correct! Welcome, Salleai!"
I push open the door and enter my house, finding the jacket I had forgotten crumpled on the floor with my cat asleep on it. I nearly miss her. Her purple fur providing perfect camouflage against the material, her tiny body breathing up and down in a rhythmic pattern. Not a care in the world. She looks so peaceful. I can feel the jealousy rising in my body, but before it can manifest itself it transforms to confusion; before finally displaying itself as tears of sadness.
My cat doesn't have to worry about whether all of this is real. Whether work is necessary and dangers should be avoided, or if imagination is the only limitation that binds me.
I had tried to figure it out earlier, but to no avail. When I asked my best friend in the other place if she thought a purple cat was weird. Her response was:
"A purple cat! You saw a purple cat?!? Nah. It must have been a dream."
This perhaps could have done me some good if it wasn't for my boyfriend here who responded in a similar fashion when I asked him about a grey dog.
Literature and internet searches are no help either as each simply mirrors the world I consult them in. Grey dogs aren't a thing here and the experts all agree on that. But I own a grey dog in the other place and everyone-books, internet searches, and experts included-seems to think that's quite normal there.
My counselors are both convinced that I'm having very vivid dreams and have prescribed nasty liquids that burn my throat in both places. They haven't helped.
A high-pitched meow jolts me away from my thoughts. I glance down. Royals is awake, but am I? | I will always remember back in high school when this girl thought I was cute and so I started talking to her. Afterward, she thought I was awkward and creepy. Since then, my inner monologue has always convinced me that in order to avoid humiliation, I must avoid female. *You may look but you must not let her hear you speak. The less she knows about you, the more mystery your character will portray, and the more the female will be attracted to you.*
This line of thinking inevitably wired my brain that I don't need no woman, and that my computer can be my girlfriend. This worked for a while until my crippling anxiety and depression eventually reminded me that I must strive to achieve things that will actually help me in the future, instead of just giving me a blast of happy chemicals in the moment.
You probably think I live with my parents but I don't, okay? So get that shit out of your head. I'm very comfortable and secure about my living situation so I don't need you thinking I live with my parents. I live in a one-bedroom apartment that my parents pay for but I have a job and will pay them back. I work at Pizza Palace with my pal Pedro but I only make $100 a week. It's probably because I only work 15 hours, but I am talking to the manager about maybe giving me more hours.
There's this beautiful girl who works there named Kayla. She's so hot and funny and her voice sounds like a raspy angel. I want to be her girlriend I mean boyfriend but I only talk to her when I say things like "Hey, do I put black olives on the Works?" so I don't know how to express my feelings. I'm afraid if she knows I like her, she'll start rumors in the Pizza Palace that I am creepy, awkward, and ugly.
I found that the best way to cope with my crippling anxiety and depression is through the art of lucid dreaming. If you didn't know, that's where you realize you are dreaming while you are dreaming, and are able to manipulate the dream to your will. My favorite part of any day is when I get to have my sweet slumber, so I can swiftly sail to a better place where girls think I'm cute even after hearing my choices of words.
I became a very active dreamer and realized that I could just be Kayla's boyfriend in my lucid dream. That's not even creepy since nobody would know that I'm doing it. So I made it happen. I asked out Kayla in my dream, and she began making out with me while we copulated in the restaurant kitchen while patrons cheered and cried tears of joy.
I would lucid dream every day and every night. I got so good at it that I became bored. It was no longer something I looked forward to because it was beginning to lack novelty and frankly, a damn challenge.
In my lucid dreams, I'm able to make anything I think of instantly appear in front of my eyes. I decided that for a challenge, I will make it so whenever I think of something, that thing will appear in front of my eyes at a later time. Delaying the gratification, if you will.
This actually did the trick at first, and I was once again enjoying my life in my lucid dreams alongside Kayla and our lovely son, Zaniel. But the more and more I lucid dreamt with delayed gratification, the more and more my fantasies would dissipate and slowly become like my reality. Kayla and Zaniel disappeared and I was no longer living luxurious lifestyles. I was back working at Pizza Palace in my lucid dream.
I remember one dream where I was working with Kayla and we weren't talking to each other. We would just say arbitrary work-related comments, barely even recognizing that we had a lovely son. Then it hit me- this is a new Kayla that I've dreamt up. A Kayla that I must actually work to impress and become a valuable man that can provide for myself and a family.
I asked her out and she told me "Sorry, I have a boyfriend." This was an odd feeling of defeat in a dream where I was aware I was in the dream. I decided that this delayed gratification bullshit in my lucid dreams was also getting boring, so I began intensely visualizing Disneyland so I could teleport there. I loved fucking around in the Haunted House with nobody there to tell me to stop. It's quite an amazing trip.
The problem is- I didn't teleport anywhere. I was still standing there with my stupid spoon in the tomato sauce making a stupid pizza.
Holy shit- I had just asked out Kayla in real life. And I was still alive. This is the moment I realized that my over-anxious thoughts where I create catastrophes out of hypothetical, trivial situations, were no more real than the lucid dreams I was imagining. | 2020-11-23T16:49:34 | 2020-11-23T16:32:30 | 20 | 13 |
[WP]: Rule of thumb: If you see something on a foreign planet that has all the outward traits of an apex predator, but no obvious and apparent way to kill you - run. The methods in which they kill aren't something you want to see. | "That thing is massive. It's the size of a bloody ship, it's an apex predator, we need to get away from it."
"Owen, we're just here to observe, not fight it." She finished her drink and lowered the water bottle, answering nonchalantly. "Look, they're not attacking us, I'm sure we'll be fine."
"And what if it does attack us?" he asked indignantly. "We're defenceless."
"We're not supposed to kill them though? That's illegal."
"Which means they can kill us without consequence."
"With what? They don't have any teeth."
"Just look at that thing and say it couldn't."
"I guess they could," she replied. "but would they? We're not their prey."
"Not yet."
She sighed. "Whatever, get your suit on."
"I can't just go down there knowing that I might die."
"You're far more likely to die from... I don't know, an oxygen tank failure. You accepted this risk, coming along with us." She slipped on her goggles and stood up. "Look, just put on your suit, we're almost at the spot."
"We're going to be out there," he paused for dramatic emphasis. "Out there, away from the rest of humanity, surrounded by predators. With no weapons and nothing but our suit to protect us. Damn the laws, damn the mission, if you think this is safe you're crazy. We don't even know how it would kill us, and I don't want to find out. I don't want to die, I don't want you to die, I don't want to have to leave your body behind because we don't have a way to get it back-"
The captain thumped his fist on the wall. "Owen, I don't care if you stay on the ship, but for the love of god if you don't shut up about whales eating people, I'm going to throw you off the side to find out." | The forest was quiet. Almost silent.
No shuffle of leaf litter of small forager, no chirp or twitter of birds.
The forest was still. Almost peaceful.
No wind to sway the branches. No rustle in the knee high grass.
The forest was empty.
'Nope' said George 'We are not camping here.'
'You've said that about the last three clearings we've stopped at.' answered Sophie. ' It's nearly supper time. My knees hurt. This pack is heavy and this is a fine spot to camp.'
'Nope. Don't like it.' said George.
'You can _not like it_ all you want. I'm staying here.' Sophie slipped her pack off her back, grabbed her water bottle and sat on her pack.
'This is fine' said Julian, dumping his own pack next to Sophie. 'Unless you want to walk all yhe way back in the dark.'
'Ok. Ok fine' said George. 'You're right we won't find anywhere better before sunset.'
'Glad you agree'. Smirked Racheal entering the clearing last. 'A more important question is beer or campfire first?'
'Beer.'
'Beer'
' Tent'.
'Really?'
'Yes, Really.' said George, 'I don't want to sleep on rocks and twigs cause you wasted the last daylight on beer.'
'How about this' offered Sophie. ' Racheal and George clear and setup the tent. I'll unpack while Julian finds some rocks for a campfire pit?'
A short while later the single large tent was up, a small campfire was setup safety nearby with a metal grill supported by a couple of large rocks. A pot of water slowly rose to the boil over the fire.
'Do you think we have enough wood?' asked George looking at the neat pile Julian had made.
'Maybe, do you think we need more?' asked Racheal snipping her can.
'Well, I think we've still got an hour or so of light left if you wanted to help me get some more? ' suggested Julian, his mood much more relaxed after his third can that hour. 'Follow me. There's plenty more over near the shrubbery.'
' Shrubbery? There is a shrubbery out here?' George jumped to his feet, following Julian away from camp.
Sure enough only a few minutes walk away from the camp, nearer to the centre of the forest clearing was a shrubbery. Waist high, semi wild shrubbery planted in a rough circle. Dried branches and twigs lay around and under the thickly leafed plants.
'Weird' said George.
'A ittle bit, i guess' shrugged Julian. 'I reckon something bigger likes to use these for back scratching and keeps knocking all the dry stuff off'.
Julian and George quickly had an armful of firewood each. Julian wanted to head back and grab another beer. George stopped him, asking him to wait a moment.
George circled the shrubbery, about of a third around he spotted what he was looking for. On his hands and knees he pushed through a animal track into the shrubbery.
Emerging on the other side he froze in surprise and fear. After a moment to overcome his shock he grabbed a nearby object and shuffled backwards as quick as he dared.
'You ok? ' asked Julian as George approached.
'Fine, Fine. We should get back' muttered George scoping up his firewood bundle.
Back at campsite George quickly dropped his bundle onto the stack and started searching through his pack.
'Ah' he cried pulling out a long narrow canister. He jumped up and strode around the campfire, then the tent, then the whole campsite shaking the canister.
Finally, as the sunset faded, he sat down and opened a beer.
'What was that all about? ' asked Sophie sitting next to him and handing over a bowl of stew with a fork standing upright in the thick hot mixture.
'Oh just something I saw near the shrubbery' answered George.
'Oh Yeah?' called Julian from across the campfire. ' What did you fjnd?'
In answer George gently tossed the canister over.
Powdered Cayenne Pepper, Baking Soda, Salt, Dried Poison Ivy. read the hand written label.
'Old family recipe. Best fire ant repellent ever invented.' Called George.
Taking another mouthful of his beer he decided to not show them the wolf skull he'd found near the ant mound. | 2021-01-25T09:28:28 | 2021-01-25T07:53:57 | 138 | 79 |
[WP]Summoning a hero from another world could not have gone worse. Not only did he totally refuse to help your nation, due to it being an absolute monarchy with a corrupt religion and legal slavery, he taught the peasants all about democracy and science, and is now helping them start a revolution. | It was over. Everything that I had worked for. Escaping my home world, infiltrating and overtaking the government of the new one, and finally having the ability to carry out my science without persecution! I finally had become someone. No one would ever think of me as a cracked-pot old fool ever again. And it all came crumbling down. All because of him.
I don’t know what I thought would happen by inviting him here, but certainly not anarchy. The rebels he eventually sided with have no structure! They are a chaotic bunch of idealists who will let that nation starve. I’m way better than that. I’m not THAT bad of a guy really, mainly I just want to be left alone to my experiments. Sure every now and then one of said experiments may wreak untold havoc upon the land, but the good thing about being a genius is that you can create devices to clean up the messes you make. For the most part.
It was in the wreckage and aftermath of one of these failed experiments that I was led away in handcuffs. I’m still kept warm from the rage that filled me that day as he looked at me with those cold eyes beneath the rim of his fedora.
“Curse you Perry the Platypus!” I screamed for what had to be the millionth time as I was shoved through the portal back to my home world, destined to be shipped off to a cold prison cell. | Emperor Abdul Mahmud III had not expected much.
The vestiges of the palace trembled with the roar of the mob, and Abdul knew the vestiges of his empire trembled with it.
"Down with Mahmud! Down with tyranny!"
The Neo-Sultanate was not particularly old. A mere 300 years had passed since it had risen from the ashes of the Modern War. The hero he had brought in to fight the Eastern Menace was not from this world, and that was why he had not expected much.
But he had still been disappointed.
"Your orders, holiness!"
Abdul could only stare at his Janissary Captain. Sweat poured down the man's face, and his strong jawline trembled. Some of the other guard had tried to flee, and the Captain had been forced to execute them as traitors. Abdul knew Hamid loved his men, and saw it weigh on him.
"Your holiness!"
"Patience, Hamid. He will come to negotiate. He sees himself as a hero. That is what deceived even me."
He had not finished speaking when a ball of fire blew open the doors. Janissaries scattered to defend the Emperor, but he raised his hand, making them lower their stun-pikes. From the smoke emerged a helmeted figure, a cape on his back and two blasters in his hands.
"Mahmud." The familiar voice resonated from the speakers in the helmet. "It saddens me it came to this."
Abdul sighed. "I'm sure it does, Flynn."
"You saved me from the wreckage of my ship when I crashed here," the hero said. "And for that I am grateful. For that, I will give you one last chance to step down and proclaim Democracy."
Abdul shook his head. The people from the Mars colony had been left alone in the Modern War, three centuries ago now, and they had thrived. But they had no roots, like the survivors on earth. They had forgotten history, and they had not learned the lessons Earthlings had.
"I will not condemn my people to the forces that destroyed the old empires."
The hero stared at him, or so Abdul assumed. It was hard to tell, behind the shiny, golden visor of Flynn's helmet.
"The war wiped out your people's knowledge, Mahmud," the enhanced voice replied. "You have fallen back into superstition and savagery. Slavery, in the modern age." Even the radio voice did not disguise Flynn's disgust.
"Slavery is what non-believers like you deserve," snarled his Captain. Abdul silenced him with a sharp look.
"Yes." Abdul stood up from his throne. "In the Modern War they did not take slaves. They simply killed their captives, with Cyclone gas." But he knew it was senseless to talk now. "Do what you must, Hero. My Janisseries will stand down."
"But your Holiness-" Captain Hamid's face lost all colour.
Flynn still stared at him, his expression as unreadable as ever. Then he waved behind him, and ten or so rebels, holding newly fabricated blasters, ancient weaponry reborn, entered the throne hall.
"Arrest the Emperor. He will stand trial and be forced to renounce his power."
Emperor Mahmud III held out his arms, smiling. Flynn was wonderfully naive to believe they would not kill him. He did not remember the history of Louis Capet, or of Nicholas and his family. At least Abdul had made sure his own family escaped well ahead of time.
Abdul stared at Flynn as they handcuffed him, and as one of the rebels gave him a nasty kick, Flynn reprimanded him.
Yes, wonderfully naive, a hero from another time. This was what had deceived Emperor Mahmud II. And this was what would be his death. | 2021-04-25T14:07:56 | 2021-04-25T13:57:47 | 52 | 29 |
[WP] You are a wizard who has dedicated their lives to finding people trapped in fates worse than death, and releasing them | The wizard enters the illusion. He has high hopes for this one. Whenever he attempts to release someone from the traps that fate has woven for them, it always takes a bit of spirit from the victim to help him out. But it is the calling of this wizard. He travels the land trying to free those stuck in supernatural dead-ends, fates worse than death, attempting to release them.
This illusion, more than others, is particularly insidious. Most illusions will attempt to disguise themselves as the truth. But the wizard may then call attention to the flaws in that illusion. The jagged edges, the unspoken words. By doing so, he may call the victim's attention to the fact that they're stuck. Because that is the ultimate tragedy of those the wizard seeks to help - they are in the beginning not even aware that they are doomed to suffer for all time. And when they do become aware, it is already too late and the fate begins anew.
What sets this illusion apart, thinks the wizard, is that it does not try to masquerade as reality. It is a dream. The person he is trying to help is asleep, and has been for hundreds of years. Thus, the dream the wizard is sensing does not have to make sense. It does not have to follow any rules that govern reality. That makes it particularly difficult to pin-point to the victim what is wrong. There are no frayed edges to pull back.
Doubly troublesome is the content of the illusion. If it was some nasty prison or torture chamber, the victim's unconscious may desire to break free. A good wizard such as this one could use that. But this illusion is not one of suffering but one of paradise. Still, the wizard remains determined. A paradise can be a fate worse than death if it leaves the victim with a life unfulfilled, a duty unfulfilled, a promise unfulfilled.
The wizard focuses his mind to create himself in the illusion. There is only a slight pullback and he feels for a moment like he is falling. Then a light headache, as if he had been pushed into a wall. He finds himself in a forest clearing, with a tiny cottage in the center. All around him are things of the extraordinary. Bunnies that sing a sweet lullaby. Unicorns prancing in the undergrowth. Rainbows obeying no laws of physics but merely attempting to be pretty. A sense of calm and peace envelops the wizard. But he is determined. He is purposeful. He will not be swayed.
He enters the cottage. It is a gloomy dark with no light other than the rare ray of sunshine peaking through a hole in the roof. And yet, standing in the cottage he is almost overcome by a sensation of familiarity. Returning home, perhaps. As if this was always where he was meant to end up. Such is the nature of illusions, the wizard thinks to himself. The web of lies lay heavy on his mind.
A section of the cottage is walled off by simple tapestries hanging from the roof. A makeshift bed can be seen through the holes in the tapestry, and a figure lies there shrouded in darkness. As he approaches the bedding the wizard feels a sense of drowsiness take hold. But he is steadfast, unbroken, unbent. Such is the way of a wizard's mind. He is convinced of the righteousness of his action. But in the dark, he can barely make out the features of the person laying on the bed. All he can hear is a slight snore.
He examines the room in more detail, then the bed, but still he cannot find something strange to point out for the victim. When everything is strange, then nothing is strange. He attempts to rouse the victim by shaking them, but they do not respond. He tries to push the victim off the bed on to the floor, but he receives no reaction whatsoever. The wizard hovers a flame above the victim's face to get a better look, but to the wizard it looks just like an ordinary face.
A moment of uncertainty enters the wizard's mind. But he has not come all this way just to turn back now. He is bound by the promise he has made to release those trapped in a fate worse than death. And in binding himself to such a promise, he is committed to facing the dangers of what he is about to perform. He places his hand on the victim's forehead and reaches out with his mind. He will find a way to wake them. He senses something like a dream and yet not a dream. Honor commands him to go forth.
The wizard enters the illusion.
He has high hopes for this one. | "Your rooms," said Lieta, cracking the door open. She handed Cinis a key, the metal cool in his palm despite being clutched in her hands, and then withdrew into the hallway. A dozen other doors were closed their, each to their own student of the school, though it was far too late for them to be awake.
"Please, accept our apologies- we are full this year, and this room has not been inhabited for quite some time. This is the first time we've reached full capacity in decades. A maid will be by in the morning to clear it out- until then, make do with what you can."
She turned, leaving Cinis alone with both his eyelids and his pack weighing heavy, then called back over her shoulder.
"And welcome to Laddergate. Simply by stepping through these doors, you are among the finest." Of course, she was correct- even as the academy's off shift custodian, Lieta possessed more raw power than most mages could ever hope to attain. If she left the academy, there were plenty of schools in the next city over that would hire her as headmistress, simply to say that she had once been in Laddergate's employment.
Cinis entered, lighting a candle as the door shut softly behind him, and coughing. A thick layer of dust covered the room, so much that he left footprints with each step. Ahead, a raised bed awaited - the covers untouched for decades, and he shuddered to think what might be living among their folds. Shouldering off his pack, he turned his attention to a leather chair- one that likely wasn't infested with moths and mice, then collapsed into the cushion. It yielded beneath him, creaking more than was necessary, and he breathed a sigh of relief.
Here, at Laddergate, he would be safe. Those who sought to claim his life shouldn't be able to break into the academy, with its ancient wards, dozens of professors hardened by wars, and scores of students well along their path to magical combat. For the first time in weeks, he could sleep easy- especially knowing that his escort, Jessica, would be keeping an eye on the city streets for infiltrators.
Seleep nearly claimed him, but he paused- before resting, he would need to hide the contents of his pack. There were things in there he wouldn't want the maids to find- in particular, a tiny box, holding a single darked pearl clasped between its shutters like the clam it had once originated.
Carefully, he extricated it, opening it up in the candlelight. It was strangely beautiful, considering that he had found it on the chest of someone presumed to be him. Someone now dead, simply for bearing a resemblance- and the pearl a mark of an assassin's completed task. And with magic, he might just be able to use it to track those who wanted him dead.
But when he removed the tiny sphere, there was a flash- just above the bed, two glowing eyes, rubies set in a stone skull. A thin trail of smoke poured out of nostrils the size of his fist, and as he rose his candle, he saw the dragon's face locked in a snarl, its fangs bared towards him.
He raised the pearl, and the smoke thickened, the eyes flashing again.
"Just when I thought I had found safety," he muttered, then walked over to beast's likeness, leaving the pearl on leather cushion. "This won't do."
Taking a pillowcase, he emptied it of its contents, judging the size just right enough to form a hood for the dragon. Then he threw it over the beast's head, pulling down on the sides to cover stone- just as his knuckle grazed against one of the glowing ruby eyes.
And in that instant, Cinis was no longer alone in his new dormitory at Laddergate. But rather, he stood ankle deep in warm water, his feet digging into fine sand. The walls of a cave rose about him, and beyond sunlight sparked in a bay. Bats stirred at the caverns ceiling, rustling in indignation as he interrupted their sleep, and minnows danced around his shins in glittering streaks.
But none of this caught his attention like the beast sprawled out at the end of the cavern, its chest rising and falling in deep sleep, the smoke pouring from its nostrils the same that had entered his room.
Thick chains held the dragon down- chains of silver interlaced with Vrael, the metal that deadened magic. A collar wrapped about its neck, connected with shackles on each of its claws, even its tail tied down and bolted to the wall. And Cinis froze as one of the beast's eyes cracked open, revealing a pupil that latched on him, fighting drowsiness with fury.
"Two hundred years," a voice rasped through the snarling teeth. "Two hundred years have I been captive, turned to a guardian for those who ensnared me. Have you come to mock me, one whose name was once so feared? To laugh at my royal bloodline, of a prince reduced to that of a servant? By now, I am likely forgotten, my image set aside as a mere triviality, my fate that of obsolescence."
It blinked, and Cinis swallowed, his own weariness matching the spell that held down the beast. Then he spoke, emboldened by the thick chains.
"And what do you guard against? What is your charge, great one?"
"Great one?" Snorted the dragon. "I guard against shadow magic- charged for all eternity to vanquish any who wield it. To turn my fury upon them until they are ground to dust."
"But what if you were freed? Would you have any such resentment?" Cinis pressed, thinking of the pearl he had just held with darkness in its depths, and the dragon cocked his head.
"Resentment? None at all. I act only as my bindings command." Then its eyes widened slightly, realizing the implications of Cinis' words. "And to those who would free me, I would consider myself in their debt."
"Then freed you shall be. You aren't the first, nor are you the last, that I have freed from long imprisonment." Cinis answered, and stepped forwards to study the shackled lock at its neck. Memorizing the contraption, then nodding to the beast. "When I return, your slumber will end."
Then he pulled his hand away from the ruby, and fell back into his dormitory. The beast's eyes still glowed, but there was more than fury there. Curiosity now accompanied anger.
"You have my word. Soon I will come back," Cinis whispered, then tucked the shadowy pearl into his pocket. "After all, I can't have you hunting the very magic I intend to use."
***
By Leo | 2021-09-26T12:28:18 | 2021-09-26T12:03:00 | 634 | 103 |
[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.” | When witches shapeshift in movies, it's a cool, smooth, sort of 2-second animation involving a camera trick or a computer or makeup.
At 2:31AM last night, seventeen stories above Manhattan, I got to see what it really looked like.
It had been a pretty normal evening. Finish work, catch a cab home, couple hours of Apex, order Quan's, go for a run, little Netflix (or Disney+ if the new What If is up), go to bed.
The run seemed normal too, even the injured cat that I picked up on the way. Happens all the time - usually they just need a little TLC and a night's rest and they're on their way, never to be seen again. I always think one might stay, but section 8.2a of my lease clearly states that I can't have a pet larger than a bearded dragon (whose name is Hermes).
So when I awoke at 2:30A to see the fully dressed family standing in my room, bathed in the glow of my digital clock, the fact that they'd somehow made it past reinforced glass and steel building doors, Jerry at the front desk, a 300-foot elevator shaft, and my locked and deadbolted front door, didn't really cross my mind.
I screamed at the top of my lungs but no sound came out. I threw my alarm clock at them, the glowing numbers 2:31 burning themselves into my brain before the clock smashed against the opposite wall.
It was at that point I noticed the cat in the oldest man's arms. I recognized it as the one I'd helped earlier. The cat leapt out of the man's arms onto the ground,
and transformed. I've witnessed many horrific events in my lifetime. They're a hazard of living here. But this was more grotesque than anything I could have imagined. Joints snapped and popped, bones grinded, skin bubbled and boiled. I watched in abject horror, unable to speak or move. Finally she had morphed into an old, batty-looking, grey-haired woman, covered in shawls and bangles, with scraggly grey hair and one milky, violently blue eye. My mouth opened and closed like a goldfish.
They all burst out laughing.
"Mama, don't scare the newest member of our family so soon!" said the oldest man. He was short, pudgy and greasy, with a pencil moustache and gapped front teeth.
"Ah, he'd better get used to it!" cackled the old lady.
"That's quite enough," said an elegant woman with dark hair in a long black dress, her hands lovingly draped around the man's shoulders, at least two heads taller than him. "Lurch, darling, start packing Cousin Albert's things."
I finally found my voice. "Uh...my name's Albert. Are you talking about me?"
"Look at him. So lonely and sad up here. He'll be much lonelier and sadder with us. Good." A little girl in pigtails that I hadn't noticed at first stepped up to me. Her eyes reminded me of black holes, mischief twinkling faintly behind light-absorbing darkness.
"Hey, mister, do you like grenades?" a fat boy in a striped shirt asked, tossing me a real, live, honest-to-god M67. I gingerly tossed it back and scrambled out of bed, standing to face them.
"I'm going to assume this is a dream and that I'm going to wake up in a few minutes. What are you doing here?"
"You saved Mama," replied the man. "That makes you an Addams for life." | Sophie was slowly woken up by a soft meowing of a cat. The young girl was still in a daze, but she forced herself to open her eyes. The black cat she let into her home the previous night must be starving by then. Sophie found the poor creature with one of its hind legs injured late the previous night on her way back from her employer's house where she worked as their servant girl.
God knows how long it had been lying then on the side of the road, but looking at its condition it must have been a while since it was satiated, and the kind Sophie couldn't bear the thought of leaving the helpless feline. So despite her bare living condition, she took it in and nursed it back as best as she could before letting it stay the night, giving the end of her bed to her furry guest.
*"Meow*", came another soft meowing.
Sophie squinted as the light of the sun stabbed her eyes. Soon she noticed some unfamiliar attendance-- three strange figures stood by the foot of her bed, watching her intensely.
"Oh my goodness!", Sophie yelped, completely awoken by the shock.
"Oh calm down, child. There's no need for fear", said the one standing in the middle.
On her arms the black cat lied, wagging its tail slowly, watching Sophie with its yellow eyes.
"Faye here appreciates your help very much. So we want to adopt you to our coven", the middle one continued.
Sophie was still bewildered when her mind finally became fully alert. She noticed the three beautiful women standing inside her tiny shack of a house. All of them were dressed in black robe with black hood as accessories covering their heads.
"W-w-w-witches!", Sophie screamed in terror, immediately whispering the Lord's prayer under her breath.
"Child, please, we're not here to hurt you. We just want to repay your kindness", said the one on the right.
"That is right, my dear. We'd like to offer you a gift", the left one finished.
Sophie had been repeating the prayer for 5 times then, seemingly never stopping to take a breath. In the middle of her 6th repetition, Sophie finally stopped and inhaled deeply, finally calming down a bit.
"A-a-a...a gift? What sort of gift?", she asked.
The middle one smiled, patting Faye as she purred.
"Great power and eternal life, my dear. To be one of us. Receive the blessing of the fallen angel and rule the earth on his stead", she said.
Sophie swallowed hardly, nervous. Sweating profusely, she protested. "That is...against the teaching of the church! I can't...I can't ever trust a witch!"
"My dear, did you come up with that on your own, or was it something others told you to believe? Don't you want to take your life into your own control? There is no need for you to work a thankless job, living under the tyranny of self-righteous men calling themselves men of God while they abused such power-- be the one and only one to live your life. Be with us and never you will be helpless ever again", said the right one.
Sophie was still clearly hesitant, but the witches could feel she was on the brink of being persuaded.
"Tell you what-- we will give you some time to consider our offer. We will stay around and help you in your home. You will see what we can do with magic", the left one said.
"What is your name, my dear?", the middle one asked.
"S-Sophie"
"Sophie, dear. I am Lillian", the middle one introduced, smiling warmly.
"I am Brigitte", introduced the right one.
"I am Selena", introduced the left one.
"And this is Faye, our familiar. Our connection to the fallen angel", Lillian said as Faye jumped off her arms onto the bed, snuggling up to Sophie.
\*\*\*
Days had passed since the mysterious witches entered Sophie's life. Since then Sophie had seen the wonder the witches could do as they frequently came by Sophie's house.
With a wave of her hand, Lillian cast a spell and the broom and mop danced around Lillian's house, cleaning it up in no time.
Brigitte conjured up the finest flour and butter never found in the small village, with them she baked the most delicious bread Sophie's ever eaten.
Selena showed Sophie what it meant to be above everyone, quite literally as she flew around the sky on her broom. Never had Sophie felt such wonder in her life.
"Wow, Faye...I've never seen such freedom, such wonderful thing as magic..."
Sophie lied on her bed one night, wondering out loud with Faye sleeping on the foot of her bed-- she insisted to stay the night with Sophie according to Lillian.
"I think...I think I'm going to join Lillian, Brigitte, and Selena, yeah. I could live a better life than I could ever have here..."
*"There can only be three..."*
The otherworldly whisper came soundlessly to Sophie's mind. Shocked, she shot up on her bed, looking terrified at Faye.
"Did you just...was that you?", Sophie asked.
Faye's head was locked still with her eyes staring at Sophie unblinking.
*"There can only be three daughters of the fallen angel. As God has His holy trinity, there can only be three as the coven of the unholy"*, the whispering continued.
Sophie was scared as she slowly understood the meaning of the words.
"There can only be three...? There can only be three witches? But...how should I join if there can only be three while I will be the fourth?"
*"There can only be three..."*, the voice needlessly repeated the sentence again and again.
The knowledge rang again and again inside Sophie's mind as she slowly drifted to sleep. Wondering what would happen if she said yes to join the coven...
Edit: removed some asterisks | 2021-10-09T06:08:49 | 2021-10-09T05:22:07 | 1,119 | 112 |
[WP] Your bedroom became detached from reality and nothing is outside your door, but whenever you load a video game that world appears. Your game library is not conducive to a long and happy life, but the mini fridge is empty so you have no choice. You load up the safest game and gather supplies. | *Cataclysm: Dark Days Ahead*
Absolutely not. There is going to be food in there, but there are also zombies, giant mutant insects, and Things from Outside Reality - that last category could probably follow my room even after I turn the game off. Just, no.
*Ancient Domains of Mystery*
Food, again, exists. But there are all sorts of fantasy creatures out for my blood - I do *not* believe I could handle a dozen jackals. Plus, with the Chaos Gate open, I'll slowly get corrupted as I stay there, eventually turning into a mindless monster... no thank you.
*Tetris*
No food, plus I'll get crushed. No thank you.
*Starcraft: Brood Wars*
I'll be torn apart almost instantly. That or forcibly inducted into the Marines. This... might actually be the best option so far, which is really not good, but there's still one that I've been avoiding...
*Doki Doki Literature Club*
At least no-one in this one will try to kill me. And - well, there's cupcakes at least. And a protein bar appears at least once. Not to mention a vending machine... my diet won't be great, but at least food *exists*. Plus, no real danger of being killed. At least, not until the game ends and the universe collapses around me.
...
...but if I go into that one, then I won't be the only one to come back... | Let's see, let's see... I nibble at the last Uncrustable I could find I'm my mini fridge, scrolling through a long list of games. Oh, why, Diana? Why did you have to be such a fan of action games and such a damn hippie about slice of life?
I'd already found out a few things - been experimenting ever since I realized what happened. From Shogun Showdown and Hitman 3 I learned that while I COULD wander off of the 'main' world, and other places did exist, they were barren and devoid of life. So unless I wanted to eat concession stand hotdogs for the rest of my life, Hitman was off the table. Too dangerous with Agent 47 walking around too, even if I was a nobody.
Speaking of, I learned from a VERY brief excursion into Fallout New Vegas and God of War that the player characters acted closest to their canon counterparts, or in the absence of that, the fanon interpretation - that meant that the Courier didn't go around killing hordes of people for no reason, and Kratos... Well, he's Kratos.
After reaching the bottom of the list AGAIN, my eyes glazed over, I nibble again, taking a capful of water from my last water bottle. I should prioritize games with vegetables, games with clean water, and especially games with easy access to either of the above. Entertainment can come later - I DEFINITELY want to stop by Final Fight at some point - for now, I need to focus solely on resources. I don't have an internet connection anymore, but thankfully I have every game in my steam library on various storage drives. Switching them out is tedious, but I can find every game in here on something. To make sure I don't zone out again, I decide to talk out loud while I read.
"Inscryption - nah, not worth it. Would be awesome to stop by every now and again after I've got this figured out, though."
The last important thing I've learned, thanks to Stranger of Blade City and Ghostrunner, is that games reset when I leave them. Characters might remember me, but any important events, like blowing up Megaton, undo themselves when I leave. It's weird, but I don't make the rules - it means I could theoretically just use one game forever if I could just find one.
"Just King... Nah, no food and too many enemies. Patch Quest... Maybe? Can a human survive off just honey-goop-stuff? Nuclear Th- no, skipping that one... Dishonored... Last resort. Carrion... Nah. AdventureQuest 3D- when the fuck did I buy that?"
And so on and so forth down the list I went. I could afford to plan for - I look at my sandwich - two more days, maybe, if I could find an easy one. If I couldn't, I'd only have a few more hours. My best chances would be to go into a game like Hitman or Fallout when I'm at my best, and come back and try to figure out something else. Once I have a little food, I can try the ambiguous games like-
"... Danganronpa...? Wait, that might actually work..."
When the hell did I buy that? And how didn't I notice it until just now?
There were two problems with this one. The first problem is with the exact game I have - Trigger Happy Havoc. I hate most of the characters in that one, so it'd be a pain to interact with them. The second and more pressing problem is that I can't exactly go waltzing around in a locked room environment, especially with this - depending on what events happened before I walk in, they're already on the lookout for a hidden student. But, they do have a lot of food and water, since monokuma restocks the kitchen every day... I shrug, and click the launch button.
"Okay, let's see where this goes..." | 2022-06-08T00:29:29 | 2022-06-07T23:30:06 | 21 | 10 |
[WP] 100 25 year olds have been chosen. each must choose a super power that cannot be repeated and cannot exceed the power of god. The goal is to see who can conquer the world. You have the number 100. The best powers have already been chosen. Then it's your turn and you choose..... | 100 people. Who can conquer the world first. I was never lucky. I only won one thing in my entire life and that was a large stuffed bear in a raffle 4 people entered. We were given an hour to consider, then they gave their boons.
Immortality was gone. Persuasion too. Self multiplication. Material conversion. Super intellect. No one chose the basic ones. The stakes were too high. The winner would herald in a new age for humanity. The losers would be dead or villianized. Luck manipution went close to 90. I didn't pay attention. No one would take mine.
"100. What do you choose?" The orb said.
"Second place." I replied.
"Explain."
"I want to be the second best at everything."
The screens with the other 99 errupted with discussion.
The orb began pulsing. Asking if this was to be allowed. It hummed, and gave the blue light of bestowal.
I felt it. I wasn't as smart as 05. I wasn't as persuasive as 9. I wasn't as tactical as 21. I wasn't as good of an imitator as 57. I was close though. They called me Jack of All. And in the end, I wasn't second. I was first. | "Number 100. Choose your blessing."
It took almost half an hour, but I was finally up. By that point, most of the "traditional" super powers had already been taken. I would've been in a lot of trouble if I wasn't a massive comic book geek. I motioned for the angel to come close so I could whisper my choice in their ear.
The angel nodded and pulled back to say, "Morella Wolff has chosen her blessing, but at her request, it will not be revealed to the rest of you. All participants have selected their blessings. The tournament shall begin. Prepare for transport."
A golden light washed over me and everyone else. In an instant, I was standing in the middle of an abandoned restaurant. The angel had talked about this--this was the world God abandoned after Their last attempt at handing out blessings spiraled into World War III. As I looked around, a booming voice called out, "BEGIN."
Before I could react, a person dropped down behind me and put me in a headlock. Dokja Sun from Korea, who had taken the power of portal creation. As Dokja started jerking me around, I used my blessing. Dokja's grip loosened enough for me to turn around slightly and growl at her, "Sit."
Dokja immediately let go of me and dropped to her knees. With a panicked expression on her face, she cried out, "Yes mistress, I'm sorry mistress!" I smirked; my dominance aura was working flawlessly. I whispered my request into Dokja's ear, who nodded and portaled away.
"Okay, that's just...freaky." I turned around to see two others walk into the building: Adrian Ballantyne from Scotland, who had chosen the power to become a wolfman, and Idris Lowe from New Zealand, who could create forcefields. Adrian bared his teeth and said, "This is what you chose? Some weird-ass power to indulge in your kinks?"
I chuckled. "Adrian, my friend, you're not seeing the bigger picture here. The whole point of this tournament is to find the one who will conquer the world. And this blessing of mine is going to make holding onto that power so much easier. Besides, you don't even know the best part of it."
Idris threw up a forcefield around me and remarked, "Alright, enough with the supervillain shit, let's just--"
*THUD!*
Dokja portaled back to my location with another woman in tow, landing directly on top of Idris. As the forcefield fell, Dokja presented the woman to me, prompting me to pat her on the head and say, "You did wonderfully, pet." I then turned my attention back to the pair. "The best part about my blessing is that the field of effect grows with every mind that falls under my influence."
I turned the woman around to face Adrian and Idris. "Gentlemen, you remember Melody Matthias from Paraguay, don't you? Took the power of duplication, if memory serves. Now, Melody, why don't you be a good pet and start adding some more bodies to this little shindig?"
Melody nodded excitedly and began concentrating. Blurry balls of light were launched from her body, turning into a new Melody every time they hit the ground. As Adrian and Idris tried to make a break for it, a swarm of Melody clones weighed them down, pulling them further and further into my range. Eventually, the two stopped struggling and turned around to bow before me and beg forgiveness.
As I revelled in their obedience, I said, "Come along, pets. The world deserves to meet her new master." | 2022-11-17T08:01:45 | 2022-11-17T07:40:04 | 63 | 32 |
[WP] 100 25 year olds have been chosen. each must choose a super power that cannot be repeated and cannot exceed the power of god. The goal is to see who can conquer the world. You have the number 100. The best powers have already been chosen. Then it's your turn and you choose..... | "Mimic other superpowers?"
"Taken, Number 7."
"Damn, thought that was a creative one..."
"It wasn't. Next choice?"
"Negate other sup-"
The scientist cuts me off. "18. Next?"
I sighed. What's left? Teleportation, mind reading, super strength... I'm sure those are all done. "Control computers with my mind?"
"43. And 48 is to disable electronics at will, 14 is to control electricity, and 93, which I thought was good, was to control and change the information communicated through any form of technology. No dice." She looked at her clipboard, then at the clock on the wall. "Time is wasting. And yes, #3 was time manipulation, but we nerfed it because it was a bit overpowered."
"Come on, can you help me out a little? You must have some ideas!"
"No."
"Is it against the rules or something?"
"No, but it won't matter if I did, and I'm frankly exhausted. Ive been dealing with psychos, megalomaniacs, idiots--I mean, who chooses the power to control cheese? What does that even mean?--and now you. I just want to get to the bunker before all hell breaks loose with enough energy to take a shower. Now choose!"
"Sheesh. Ok." I massaged my temples. Why doesn't anyone have any sort of compassion or empat... Wait. That's it! 99 others with their own super powers, ready to battle it out no matter the cost... what if?
"I want the power to instill people, regardless of proximity or other limitations, with a strong and permanent sense of empathy, compassion, and the ability to think critically." | God this sucks. All the cool powers are taken. From flight to fire breath. From teleportation to telekinesis. Now it’s my turn to think. I have to think long and hard about this one. Then I remembered it. As a kid I loved watching videos online and the main videos I watched were videos on the terrors of video games. I said as loud as possible
“I want the power to bring things to and from fictional worlds.”
People were silent at first. Then they started laughing.
“Look at this weirdo.”
“Go back to your cartoons.” They said, barely able to breath from laughing.
We were dropped back off on earth where the limitations of our powers were described to us. A man, who I could only assume was set by god, told me,
“You can take or leave up to 10 items per day in a fictional world. But every time you do pain will erupt from your body. To the point where when you send or take the tenth item you’ll be unconscious.”
I looked at him and grinned,
“That’s okay with me.”
I wanted to try my power on something small first. I reached out my hand and said, “ACTIVATE!”
I was suddenly in a blue room with a menu in front of me that l ooked like it was straight out of a video game. The same voice from before was behind me and said
“Here’s something I forgot to tell you. Whenever you activate this ability your spirit is sent here. When you go back out, it’ll be as if no time had passed. So take as much time as you need. But I will be the thing to harm you every time you use this ability. ”
I think again.
“Well, if I’m gonna get hurt over this I might as well make it work it. TAKE! FIRE FLOWER! SUPER MARIO GAMES!” I said loud.
“YOU DON’T NEED TO SHOUT! The being said. He walked close to me. And swiftly hits me in the gut. I immediately wake up. I throw up from the punch. But look in my hand and the fire flower is right there. I look at it and smile. I take a bite and immediately start sweating.
“Hot hot hot!” I repeat over and over again but then something changes. My clothes change color and I feel more powerful. I jump up and down.
“It works! It works!” I accidentally throw a fireball at my wall. And as the building collapses I remember something about the games.
“Oh no. Can’t get hit.” I burst through a wall and smile.
“IT WORKS!” I was barely done celebrating when someone screamed from above.
“Hey! You’re the loser who wanted to play video games right!” Oh great. I just got this ability and someone’s already trying to fight me. I scream back,
“Dude you can only fly. My ability’s cooler than yours.”
He shouted, “We’ll see who’s not cool.” As he backed up.
“It’s still yo-“ I couldn’t even finish till he hit me like a train.
“Still not cool?” He said while hitting me from all angles and laughing.
I raise my hand at him and say “Give.”
Suddenly we’re both in my menu. He’s tied up as the being looks at me and say “Already fighting?”
I ignore him and say “Give. Attack on titan. Season 1 Episode 1.”
He starts laughing and saying “Pfft. You think I’m scared of one of your shows.”
I ignore him too and ask the being “ Can I watch him to see what happens?”
The being says “Why not? I wanna see how this ends for him.”
He’s suddenly in the show. We watch as he gets mercilessly eaten by a giant humanoid. I smile an evil grin as he hits me.
“You’re disgusting.”
I awake on the battle field. His body is still there but he isn’t breathing. I go back in my house.
“I gotta think of a name for myself.” | 2022-11-17T10:09:57 | 2022-11-17T07:32:46 | 35 | 12 |
[WP] 100 25 year olds have been chosen. each must choose a super power that cannot be repeated and cannot exceed the power of god. The goal is to see who can conquer the world. You have the number 100. The best powers have already been chosen. Then it's your turn and you choose..... | "Well, come on, we don't have all day."
I thought it was funny the adjudicator mentioned this, because it had in fact already taken all day to get to me. The first 30 or 40 people chose quickly, and then things ground to a halt as the powers became more obscure and less useful.
I waffled for a good minute... and then I asked a question.
"...How specific can I be?"
"What?" the adjudicator furrowed their brow. They were annoyed at the fact that I was *negotiating* when we were already running so far behind.
They continued. "As specific or as broad as you like. It can be anything as long as you follow the two rules."
"Yes, yes... No godly powers and it has to be unclaimed." I scratched my chin. What was useful to me? What could I use every day that was mundane enough to go unchosen but powerful enough to be worth it?
A moment later, I had it.
"Teleportation."
The adjudicator immediately balked. The rest of the candidates sighed. One cursed me, begging me to stop messing around and pick something for real.
"You *obviously* can't have teleportation-"
"-because someone already took it." I interrupted. I held a finger in the air.
"...but my telelportation power only works if I'm standing in a McDonald's, and it can only teleport me to any other McDonald's."
Silence. Everyone was speechless. The adjudicator let out a deep, long "Hmmmm..."
"I'll allow it. It's unique enough."
I made some enemies that day. Mostly in the upper 50s and beyond, and almost certainly because they hadn't thought of trying it first. | God this sucks. All the cool powers are taken. From flight to fire breath. From teleportation to telekinesis. Now it’s my turn to think. I have to think long and hard about this one. Then I remembered it. As a kid I loved watching videos online and the main videos I watched were videos on the terrors of video games. I said as loud as possible
“I want the power to bring things to and from fictional worlds.”
People were silent at first. Then they started laughing.
“Look at this weirdo.”
“Go back to your cartoons.” They said, barely able to breath from laughing.
We were dropped back off on earth where the limitations of our powers were described to us. A man, who I could only assume was set by god, told me,
“You can take or leave up to 10 items per day in a fictional world. But every time you do pain will erupt from your body. To the point where when you send or take the tenth item you’ll be unconscious.”
I looked at him and grinned,
“That’s okay with me.”
I wanted to try my power on something small first. I reached out my hand and said, “ACTIVATE!”
I was suddenly in a blue room with a menu in front of me that l ooked like it was straight out of a video game. The same voice from before was behind me and said
“Here’s something I forgot to tell you. Whenever you activate this ability your spirit is sent here. When you go back out, it’ll be as if no time had passed. So take as much time as you need. But I will be the thing to harm you every time you use this ability. ”
I think again.
“Well, if I’m gonna get hurt over this I might as well make it work it. TAKE! FIRE FLOWER! SUPER MARIO GAMES!” I said loud.
“YOU DON’T NEED TO SHOUT! The being said. He walked close to me. And swiftly hits me in the gut. I immediately wake up. I throw up from the punch. But look in my hand and the fire flower is right there. I look at it and smile. I take a bite and immediately start sweating.
“Hot hot hot!” I repeat over and over again but then something changes. My clothes change color and I feel more powerful. I jump up and down.
“It works! It works!” I accidentally throw a fireball at my wall. And as the building collapses I remember something about the games.
“Oh no. Can’t get hit.” I burst through a wall and smile.
“IT WORKS!” I was barely done celebrating when someone screamed from above.
“Hey! You’re the loser who wanted to play video games right!” Oh great. I just got this ability and someone’s already trying to fight me. I scream back,
“Dude you can only fly. My ability’s cooler than yours.”
He shouted, “We’ll see who’s not cool.” As he backed up.
“It’s still yo-“ I couldn’t even finish till he hit me like a train.
“Still not cool?” He said while hitting me from all angles and laughing.
I raise my hand at him and say “Give.”
Suddenly we’re both in my menu. He’s tied up as the being looks at me and say “Already fighting?”
I ignore him and say “Give. Attack on titan. Season 1 Episode 1.”
He starts laughing and saying “Pfft. You think I’m scared of one of your shows.”
I ignore him too and ask the being “ Can I watch him to see what happens?”
The being says “Why not? I wanna see how this ends for him.”
He’s suddenly in the show. We watch as he gets mercilessly eaten by a giant humanoid. I smile an evil grin as he hits me.
“You’re disgusting.”
I awake on the battle field. His body is still there but he isn’t breathing. I go back in my house.
“I gotta think of a name for myself.” | 2022-11-17T09:26:30 | 2022-11-17T07:32:46 | 22 | 12 |
[WP] 100 25 year olds have been chosen. each must choose a super power that cannot be repeated and cannot exceed the power of god. The goal is to see who can conquer the world. You have the number 100. The best powers have already been chosen. Then it's your turn and you choose..... | As the hundredth candidate I knew I’d have to be clever, but the idea occurred somewhere around the 30th person. Marie had asked for the ability to steal powers. She was told that the ability would only be temporary and we all knew that killing or capturing the others was not allowed. She ended up choosing something else.
Many others went the same way after that. Now that we knew that this wasn’t a contest of strength but one of influence, the power selections changed. People asked to be able to influence others or the larger world. Simple enough, but effective. They would be my biggest competition.
Or so I thought. The power to try again. I hadn’t thought of it, but it was incredibly useful. No failures and the potential to resist any power with a direct effect. This James fellow had also thought this through.
Nadya requested the willpower to overcome any obstacle. I was surprised that it was claimed at 84, but good to know that someone had it.
The power to manifest imagination was chosen by Abdul at 93. His constructs were limited in duration, but that was fine with him.
Ultimate repair came right before me. Also a good strategy. Dana would be able to effectively grant themselves immortality in addition to being able to fix anything mechanical.
Finally, it was my turn. The best part about going last was that it would make this power even better. “I want the knowledge and skills to learn and master any ability that I’ve encountered.” “GRANTED.”
Instantly, I knew it had worked. I knew what everyone else was capable of and how to gain their skills. It wasn’t going to be easy, but thanks to some other choices, I’d have all the time I’d need. | God this sucks. All the cool powers are taken. From flight to fire breath. From teleportation to telekinesis. Now it’s my turn to think. I have to think long and hard about this one. Then I remembered it. As a kid I loved watching videos online and the main videos I watched were videos on the terrors of video games. I said as loud as possible
“I want the power to bring things to and from fictional worlds.”
People were silent at first. Then they started laughing.
“Look at this weirdo.”
“Go back to your cartoons.” They said, barely able to breath from laughing.
We were dropped back off on earth where the limitations of our powers were described to us. A man, who I could only assume was set by god, told me,
“You can take or leave up to 10 items per day in a fictional world. But every time you do pain will erupt from your body. To the point where when you send or take the tenth item you’ll be unconscious.”
I looked at him and grinned,
“That’s okay with me.”
I wanted to try my power on something small first. I reached out my hand and said, “ACTIVATE!”
I was suddenly in a blue room with a menu in front of me that l ooked like it was straight out of a video game. The same voice from before was behind me and said
“Here’s something I forgot to tell you. Whenever you activate this ability your spirit is sent here. When you go back out, it’ll be as if no time had passed. So take as much time as you need. But I will be the thing to harm you every time you use this ability. ”
I think again.
“Well, if I’m gonna get hurt over this I might as well make it work it. TAKE! FIRE FLOWER! SUPER MARIO GAMES!” I said loud.
“YOU DON’T NEED TO SHOUT! The being said. He walked close to me. And swiftly hits me in the gut. I immediately wake up. I throw up from the punch. But look in my hand and the fire flower is right there. I look at it and smile. I take a bite and immediately start sweating.
“Hot hot hot!” I repeat over and over again but then something changes. My clothes change color and I feel more powerful. I jump up and down.
“It works! It works!” I accidentally throw a fireball at my wall. And as the building collapses I remember something about the games.
“Oh no. Can’t get hit.” I burst through a wall and smile.
“IT WORKS!” I was barely done celebrating when someone screamed from above.
“Hey! You’re the loser who wanted to play video games right!” Oh great. I just got this ability and someone’s already trying to fight me. I scream back,
“Dude you can only fly. My ability’s cooler than yours.”
He shouted, “We’ll see who’s not cool.” As he backed up.
“It’s still yo-“ I couldn’t even finish till he hit me like a train.
“Still not cool?” He said while hitting me from all angles and laughing.
I raise my hand at him and say “Give.”
Suddenly we’re both in my menu. He’s tied up as the being looks at me and say “Already fighting?”
I ignore him and say “Give. Attack on titan. Season 1 Episode 1.”
He starts laughing and saying “Pfft. You think I’m scared of one of your shows.”
I ignore him too and ask the being “ Can I watch him to see what happens?”
The being says “Why not? I wanna see how this ends for him.”
He’s suddenly in the show. We watch as he gets mercilessly eaten by a giant humanoid. I smile an evil grin as he hits me.
“You’re disgusting.”
I awake on the battle field. His body is still there but he isn’t breathing. I go back in my house.
“I gotta think of a name for myself.” | 2022-11-17T11:39:55 | 2022-11-17T07:32:46 | 20 | 12 |
[WP]Death Eaters win The battle of Hogwarts killing all opposition and breaking a one thousand year old truce between muggles and wizards. Lord Voldemort must now face the full might of the United Kingdoms' military. | **Not really UK or military, but oh well.**
*They say that fiction is often based on fact.
It was in the early 80's when the muggles had one of the biggest technological breakthroughs seen in their history. It was simultaneously one of their biggest secrets...*
Beads of sweat appeared on Voldemort's face, glistening against the glow of his wand. "*AVADA KEDAVRA*," he bellowed, sending electric green jets at the face of the man standing in front of him. This time, the sound was deafening. Chunks of earth burst into the sky and dust enveloped the scene. In between haggard, raspy breaths his smile slowly widened. He was sure of his success this time. He had given it his all against this man, this statue, without seeing promising results.
Voldemort barely saw the man before he heard him. His spell had again failed him. Only a faint red glow was discernible through the thick dust.
"*You wizards have always had one flaw with your most powerful curses. The muggles were desperate to find a way to exploit that. When the technology finally caught up, they produced several 'individuals' like me. For what's the point of a killing curse, if the target was never alive*?"
Voldemort's face scrunched up in anger. This man, his voice sounded...off. He couldn't take it, he had to know. "*SHOW YOURSELF! SHOW ME WHO YOU ARE? How are you still even STANDING?!*"
The man emerged from the dust, only his skin was damaged by the most powerful of all wizard spells. He looked down at Voldemort, who was now quivering in fear. The man drew a pistol from his hip, and pointed it at the dark lord.
"*Hasta la vista, baby.*" | "Dobby, is that bloke up there?"
"Yessir. The one with no nose, sir?" Young Lance-Corporal Dobson ducked a curse, one of the colourful ones with sparks in. They were taking moderate fire, and Staff Sergeant Longbottom now seemed to be in command of a large swathe of British troops. Or would, if a large swathe of British troops had been left to command. He, Dobson, and a private named Fitch were cut off from sight of the others, if others there were, by the ruined castle to their right. They were pinned behind a boulder that used to be a stone guardsman, Fitch immobilised by one of their jinx thingies.
"Correct, Lance-Corporal. Take a peek and see if 'e's got that snake with him."
"Yessir." Dobson flattened himself to the floor, wriggled around the rock as the Sergeant gave him some cover, and then squirmed backwards, accompanied by a shower of sparks. "Bloody hell, Sarge, it's a good thing you knew to rub the shells in clover root to stop them being magicked out of the air. How'd you know that, again?"
"I had a cousin who was one of that lot. One of the good lot. Now, was there a bloody snake or not?"
"Yessir, wrapped around that big tree up there, the dead one with the great long thin branches."
"That tree ain't dead, Lance-Corporal, it's hibernating. Shoot it."
"The bullets don't kill the snake sir, it's been tried." Dobson knew he sounded defeatist, but there was really a limit to the number of times you could launch a massive offensive against a snake and come away the losers.
"Not the ruddy snake, Dobson, the *tree*, shoot the tree. On three."
"I... yessir..." On the Sergeant's word, him standing and Dobson kneeling behind a the stone guard's shoulder, they opened fire on the blackened trunk.
The killing curse got the Sarge almost at once. Dobson let out a curse of his own, this one rather more colourful than the ones exploding off the statue's helmet, and emptied the last of his ammo up the slope at the tree which looked, to him, as dead as the rest of his squad. A jinx of some sort caught his arm and caused it to become floppy and useless, but by then it was over and he knelt there waiting for the one that would kill him. Perhaps they'd overlook Fitch.
The tree stirred. Dobson's eyes widened. No one else noticed, not for a heartbeat, not for two. The bloke in the swirly black robes, the one they answered to, had his back nonchalently to the scene, allowing his subordinates to take care of this petty pocket of resistance. So he wasn't looking when the snake took the first blow.
"Sarge, I wish you could see this." breathed Dobby in awe, as the willow thrashed and flailed at the thick-bodied creature that had been twined around it's middle but now whirled about at the top of its outermost branches. The noseless commander was shrieking and hurling bolts of light at the tree, which served only to enrage it further. As Dobby watched, both the snake and the man seemed to be dragged to tattered ribbons, the one a gory mess, the other almost delicate strands of fire and ash. With his good arm, Dobby hauled Fitch into a sitting position. Risky, but he wanted another witness, just so he didn't sound like a nutter when he relayed the scene up the chain of command.
By the time the tree had finished with the carcass of the snake, the other wizards had dissipated as completely as their commander, though these went on foot or brooms; in the space of no more than three minutes after the tree first stirred, the place had emptied. Dead soldiers, dead wizards, and bits of snake littered the grounds.
| 2014-10-12T03:37:00 | 2014-10-12T02:45:51 | 135 | 10 |
[WP] As you die, you travel down the bright tunnel and then everything turns to black. That's when you hear it: "Greetings, Prisoner 11384. You have served your sentence. You are free to go." | Undoubtedly too late for this, but here goes:
The young man looked down at hands that did not register as his own, a headache burgeoning under the somehow too-intense light radiating from the table lamp. “I’m sorry. I still don’t understand. My whole life…that was all a lie?”
The older gentleman lowered his papers and gave him a look of trained sympathy. “‘Lie’ is a destructive way to frame it, Mr. Karman. What you experienced during the course of your rehabilitation was a second chance. Your feelings, your personality, your values, all of which you obtained there, are all quite real.”
“But my family, my friends…”
“Simulations, yes. But that does not diminish what they meant to you. They are a part of you, Eric. Quite literally, in fact; they were constructed in large part by your own mental processes, somewhat like in a dream. I know this does not wholly diminish your sense of loss upon your return, but I hope you can learn to take some degree of solace in it.”
Eric laughed uneasily. “Right, until I wake up again, yeah? How do I know this,” he gestured at the taupe walls of the office, “is even real? I don’t even remember who I was before this.”
The old man fished in the breast pocket of his jacket and produced a large, heavy coin. He held it above the table for a moment, as if considering, and flipped his palm. The metal struck the wood with an unbelievable clatter.
“Fuck!” Eric covered his ears. “What was that for? I told you my head was killing me.”
“To illustrate a point. We knew that if we made the simulation too real, too intense, those emerging would experience a complete dissociation from reality. And so your senses there were muted. You were given drugs to ease the transition back, but they are beginning to fade now. As for who you were before…” He picked up a folder briefly and let it flop back to the table. “You were dangerous. Uncorrectable. A product of poor education and parental neglect funneled into a culture of glorified criminal activity. That person is gone now. Erased. You are Eric Karman, given a chance at life that society denied you.”
Eric looked at the files that the man had gestured with. “So, can I…?”
The man shook his head sadly, his downturned head casting shadows across the wrinkled valleys of his face. “We do not allow patients to read about their old lives until at least a year after the rehabilitation process. There is too much risk involved in falsely identifying with this information, and valuing them as predominant. Reestablishing the sort of dangerous connections that brought you to this point. The rate of recidivism was simply too high when we disclosed this information readily.”
Eric looked down again at his hands. His too-smooth hands with their manicured nails (did somebody trim them when he was under?) and faintly visible veins. Hands that only a few hours ago were as rough and timeworn as those of the man across from him. Holding the arm of his daughter as he said his last goodbye. He cleared his throat. “So…so what am I supposed to do now?”
“We have a reintegration program in place. You will be placed with around a dozen other individuals in your same position in a temporary residence where you will receive therapy and social education. You will be given contacts to secure yourself more permanent room and board, and to find a job. One of the ancillary goals of your rehabilitation was to provide you with useful skills and experience in order to reenter society as a more productive and successful individual. You have had an entire lifetime as a carpenter to apply here.” He smiled in satisfaction and slid a blue folder across the table. “This folder includes a list of useful contacts, briefing materials, information on….”
The man’s voice faded from Eric’s consciousness as he recalled his wife’s face. Elizabeth, who had died 4 years prior. He could still see every detail, the curls of her hair, the bemused smile that only showed at the corner of her mouth, all more vivid and powerful still than the increasing throbbing behind his eyes under the dim yet harsh light. The droning pattern of the man’s voice suggested he was coming to a question.
“Do you have any other questions, Mr. Karman?”
“About what?”
“Well, about the rehabilitation program, or your upcoming reintegration?”
“Oh. Oh yes. Just one.” His eyes watered. “Why should I?” | Greetings, Prisoner 11384. You have served your sentence. You are free to go.
“My sentence? What did I do? Hello? Where am I supposed to go? Hello?”
Silence.
I remembered dying. I remembered raising my hand to shield myself. Not that it helped, there wasn’t much I could do to stop a bus.
I kept my eyes squinted as the landscape slowly came into view. There was a path that led straight out with dusty ground on either side of it. A sign bearing the word ‘REGISTRATION’ with a large arrow pointed in the same direction.
I turned around, but the way back was blocked by a large metal door. Thick stone walls rose on either side of it, stretching up and across.
“Hello?”
I knocked on the door and waited. There was no bell, no intercom, nothing to press. Nothing but a large metal door. I knocked again.
“Hello? Where am I?”
No reply.
With no options, I started walking. Vegetation began to sprout as I made my way down the path. Sparse grass became tall trees, green and full of life. The dusty path slowly gave way to a paved cement walk, bordered by grated drains. A small, single-story building was at the end of the walk. It was white with large windows and a gently sloping red tiled roof. The same sign I saw earlier stood in front, beckoning me inside.
“Hello?” I said as I opened the door.
This must be the reception. It looked just like a dentist’s office. Everything looked sterile. Three chairs with black leather seats and thin metal hand rests were backed against a wall, interspaced by a neatly arranged magazine stand and a large potted fern.
I walked up to the reception and rang the bell. On the wall was a poster, titled ‘The Second Chance Program.” I rang the bell again. “Hello? Is anyone aro-“
“Hi there!”
I spun around as I heard the voice. It belonged to a portly woman in what appeared to be some sort of clinical uniform. She had a pleasant face topped by a full head of brown curls, and was carrying a clipboard which she was now consulting.
“Mister… Ford? Yes?” She said, glancing up at my face before looking at the clipboard again. “Yes, yes, Mr. Ford it is. Very good. Please follow me.”
I followed her down the hallway into a spacious white room. It was empty except for two sofas in the middle that stood facing one another, separated by a low glass coffee table. A large window on the far side kept the room bright.
“Please Mr. Ford, have a seat. Would you like something to drink?”
“No. I’m okay. No wait. No, Yes. I mean yes. Yes please I would like a drink. Some water would be great. What – Where am I?”
“This is the registration center Mr. Ford. Please, have a seat.” She indicated towards the sofa as she sat down on the opposite one and reached under the table. She continued as she handed me a bottle of water.
“It says here on your file that you were eligible for a second chance. Now, Mr. Ford, do you think you could tell me the manner of your death?”
“Wait I’m sorry, did you say second chance? Just what is going on?”
“The manner of your death Mr. Ford?” She looked at me patiently, her legs together and arms neatly folded across them, waiting for an answer.
“I uh… I got hit by a bus.”
“And?”
“And… here I am?” I replied, confused. “Oh you mean why?”
She nodded.
“I mean, I was just waiting for the bus, and this kid, couldn’t have been more than 8 or 9, he must’ve been riding his bike and lost control or something… the next thing I knew he was on the road and the bus was coming and yeah.”
“You saved him Mr. Ford?”
“Well, yeah. I guess. I pushed him out of the way. It just happened so fast, I didn’t really think, and the next thing I knew the bus was in front of me and then I woke up outside that building with the voice telling me I was free to go. That I served my sentence? I don’t understand. Who are you?”
“My name is Emily, and this –“, she gestured around her, “this is the registration facility.”
“The registra-“
“For heaven, Mr. Ford.”
I blinked at her, unable to process what she just said.
“Mr. Ford, I am sure you’re familiar with the concept of heaven and hell.” She paused, waiting for my affirmation. “Well, a while back, everyone important got together and decided it was a bit of an outdated concept, the whole, eternal damnation and all. See, the people in charge decided that most mortals were, for the most part, good people. That there were so many factors influencing one’s actions on earth, it wouldn’t really be fair to condemn someone to suffer for all eternity after just one try.”
“What does this have to do with me? I mean, this is the first time I’ve died.”
“This is the only time you remember Mr. Ford. You’ve died many times.”
I stared at her as she looked back, an easy smile on her face. She didn’t seem the slightest bit fazed about anything that was happening.
“As I was saying Mr. Ford, the powers to be decided that eternal condemnation wasn’t the best way to go about things, thus the second chance program was introduced. Most people who couldn’t make it to heaven the first time round got to try again. Well, more than once actually, despite what the program name might suggest.”
“But - I was called a prisoner. Did I do something wrong? I’m sorry but this is all news to me.”
“Your only wrong, Mr. Ford, was not doing enough right. And so after your first death, you were reborn again, as a different person, but with the same soul. New memories, new body, new life – but still the same person. And this happens again, and again, and again, until you lived a life where you did enough good things to make it to heaven. For the most part, most souls do have enough good in them that in the right situation, they perform exceptionally. And so we let them keep trying, over and over, until they can make it to heaven. The ones that don’t, well, they just never make it.”
I sat there stunned, the open bottle of water resting in my hand. None of this made any sense, yet, I knew she was telling the truth.
“And the prisoner thing?”
“Semantics.”
I nodded, this time taking a sip of water.
“Welcome to heaven Mr. Ford, you are free to go.”
| 2015-07-07T23:31:11 | 2015-07-07T21:35:15 | 111 | 14 |
[WP] Legends tell of the mighty alchomancer, a magic user who becomes more powerful the more intoxicated they are. They are currently blackout drunk. | "He did what?"
"The whole thing, six days."
"And it's going? Like, it works?"
"Yeah, nothing in, everything out. Perfect."
"So he just....created it out of nothing?"
"Exactly. No equivalent exchange, no loss of fibre, the whole thing's as real as you or I, just....trapped in the bottle."
"Fucking hell. Six days you said?"
"Can you imagine the hangover?"
"Yeah, it's been all day and he's only starting to wake up now, his head's going to be killing him."
"I can't believe he made a whole universe."
"In a fucking wine bottle. What kind of creatures are going to be normal growing in a fucking wine bottle?" | "Do you knowwwhat it'ssslike, living with me curse?" He slurred at the young man, an upright lad of 17, with blond hair and a muscular frame.
"It's hell, issswhawt it is...." he continued, a goblet of wine in hand.
"I'm told I sssaved the *king*dom, three...four...three times now...? AAAAnd doyouknow what I remember?"
The young man opened his mouth to reply, but was immediately cut off.
"NOTTA damn thing, I do!"
The young man looked down, staring at his feet. The alchomancer was a legend, and this blabbering drunk of a man... this specimen was nothing more than a disappointment.
"You know *why* I *hired* you, dontcha?"
"To carry your wine into battle!" The young man answered with enthusiasm!
"That'sssright~! Some squires... bring swords.... you bring the wine! It'sssnot an easy job, being my apprentice... are you sure you're \**hic** up for it?"
"Yes, sir," the boy replied.
"There'ss'll be danger, murder, dragons, and probably pirates..."
The alchomancer had stepped forward, and was now holding the young man's shoulder. His breath smelled of grapes and gums both well into decay.
"Sir, I shall not waver."
"Very good, lad, off you go. Down the hill is a house with a blue roof, he makes my wine. Bring me a barrel of his finest. With haste!"
The alchomancer pushed the boy away, and he stumbled out the door and towards the house with the blue roof.
He arrived, found the door, and pushed it open.
Inside, fifteen or so men of similar age and build all turned their heads in unison.
"I'm looking for a winemaker.." the new squire began, before one of the others interrupted him.
"There *is* no fucking winemaker here, boy... and let me guess, he gave you the squiring position too?"
The new squire was taken aback, and tried to stumble out an answer.
"Well, join the club, he gave us all the job too!"
About half of the young men in the room erupted in laughter, coming from both a mix of frustration at the old man's incompetence and amusement that so many others were caught in the same situation.
"I don't understand..." the newcomer began, while one stepped forward and took his shoulder.
"Poor old man... gives someone new the job, sends them away, and then summons in a new man to replace the worker whose existence he literally just forgot about."
"Heavy bares the sorcerer's hat," one joked.
"Or heavy tastes the booze," another chimed in.
The hero of their town, a babbling old man who can't even remember he hired to fill a vacant position over 20 times today alone. There was something obviously unsettling in that fact, and yet the new squires didn't mind.
"Here's to splitting our paycheck 20 ways," one yelled. The rest laughed with him. | 2016-01-22T11:32:24 | 2016-01-22T09:55:38 | 493 | 84 |
[WP] Voyager 1 has unexpectedly returned to Earth. It was found at Cape Canaveral, with a note written in a strange, unknown language attached to it. Scientists have translated that note and have called a press conference to reveal their findings. | "Everyone, please, settle down," Bruce Kingston said, addressing all the world's various journalists and reporters. "Please, just *calm down!*"
The noise fell from a cacophony to a general murmur. A hand shot up.
"What can you tell us about Voyager?" the reporter asked, as others nodded hurriedly.
"What did the aliens say?" asked another.
Bruce took a deep breath. This would not be easy.
"The aliens... said nothing," he said, as everyone recoiled in surprise. "The entire damned thing was a hoax."
Immediately all the reporters spoke at once, and Bruce tried to speak over the chaos.
"The note was nonsense. No code, no hidden language - just pure and utter gibberish," he said, as if the words hurt him.
"But then how did the Voyager land up in Cape Canaveral?" a reporter asked, as all the cameras zoomed in on Bruce's face.
He shook his head. "It never did. Turns out we're still receiving signals from it in space - this entire debacle has just been a prank on the world. The 'Voyager' in Cape Canaveral is a modified replica from decades ago."
The reporters were dismayed. The entire world had tuned in to see this, it had been a global event like no other. And it was all just a *prank?*
"I'm sorry everyone," Bruce said weakly, "but I suggest you all just go home and... you all just have a good night, alright?"
****
"Are you sure we did the right thing?"
The team of scientists sat in the empty hall after the presentation. They were passing a hefty bottle of whisky between them.
"How can we be sure?" Bruce replied, taking a massive swig from the bottle. "All I know is that if we told the world what's *really* going to happen, it wouldn't last through the night."
The other scientists nodded halfheartedly. They weren't convinced - but how could they be?
"Well, if you'll excuse me," Bruce said, getting up from his chair, "I'm going to go home, kiss my daughter goodnight, and make love to my wife for the last time."
Standing in the doorway, he stared at each and every one of them. He took one last swig from the bottle.
"It's been a pleasure working with you all," he said, shutting the door behind him.
*****
*****
If you didn't completely hate that, consider subscribing to [my new subreddit.](https://www.reddit.com/r/CroatianSpy/)
I'll try add new (and old) stories every day <3 | The lights and flashing cameras of the press focused on the bald head of NASA’s head scientist, Dr. Alferious. The aging doctor winced into the spotlight. He was never one for media attention, but for an announcement this important, he didn’t trust anyone else to deliver it.
“Ahem. Yes, hello, thank you all for coming out here today.” Alferious spoke into the microphone; its shrill, screeching whine silencing the muttering buzz of the press.
“I am holding this press conference today to inform the public of the mysterious return of Voyager 1 at Cape Canaveral two days ago at one thirty in the morning. Not only was Voyager 1 returned to us early in the morning, but we found some very … disturbing … indications of alien life on the space probe.” Dr. Alferious’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down in nervousness as he spoke.
How would the American public take this news? How would the *world* take this news? There would be pandemonium, complete and utter chaos. Alferious’s face hardened. No, it was his responsibility as a scientist to inform the people. This information had to be shared, it changed everything.
Dr. Alferious picked up a clicker and pressed a button. A small projection screen fell down behind the nervous scientist.
“On closer inspection of the space probe, our team discovered a number of very odd and disturbing markings scrawled on the surface of Voyager 1.” The doctor clacked the clicker, and a slideshow of images appeared behind him.
The images depicted Voyager 1, but that was not the main focus of the photos. Scrawled across the hull of the probe were several markings. Each one was a combination of what appeared to be letters and numbers, scrawled out in bright colors.
“Thanks to our modern computing power, several of our top analytics specialists were able to decipher the strange language that marked the probe.” Dr. Alferious said, hesitating before moving onto the next slide.
With trepidation, Dr. Alferious moved onto the next slide. The audience gasped in bewilderment as they witness the translations for the alien markings transposed on the image of Voyager 1.
“It is to our understanding, that Voyager 1 was being used by several alien advertising agencies to sell … underwear. According to our research, if there were sentient life in the universe, then Voyager 1 would be prime real estate for advertising throughout the universe.”
The press soon was abuzz with questions. Reporters yelled over each other to get the doctor’s attention. What does this mean for us? Can this be monetized? Will NASA now specialize in space advertising? How much would space for advertising cost? These questions were flung desperately at Dr. Alferious’s direction.
“Pleas, please calm down!” Alferious yelled, waving his hands in the air for clam. “I will answer questions at the end, there is still more to be disclosed.”
After the press quieted down, Alfrious continued.
“There was also a note attached to Voyager 1, inscribed in the same alien language as the advertising. After careful analysis of the note, we have concluded that the message reads as follows:”
Alferious cleared his throat before reading off the note.
“*Dear owners of advertising probe 3XC, of the Deswadian sector, we congratulate you on the success of your advertising probe. As a sign of our gratitude, we shall bestow upon you the most advanced technology that our organization has to offer. We will be sending you a lifetime supply of Mesmorp’s anti-diarrhea all purpose undershorts. -Sincerely, The CEO of Mesmorp Inc., Mr. Grotsnuker*.”
A stunned silence filled the room. Alferious quaked in his boots. A small anger boiled in the back of his mind. How would the public react? Surely it would be in anger and disappointment. They would ridicule him, and call NASA a waste of money. Their entire organization would be shut down because of this fiasco!
At once, the press broke out in a flurry of hurried questions. The reporters’s voices strained to be heard over the din. How much is a lifetime supply? Will the underwear be distributed evenly across the world? How much will the underwear cost? Will the president start wearing the anti-diarrhea underwear?
The questions droned on and on to the stunned look of Dr. Alferious. Were they serious? Is that all they cared about? What about extraterrestrial life? Why were they focusing on the underwear?
Dr. Alferious walked off of the stage in defeat. He mumbled something about going home to his wife and kids, and pouring himself a much needed drink. The desperate sounds of the press followed him off stage, and echoed through his mind as he philosophized on the insanity of the human condition.
----------------------
Hope you liked it! I do other stuff at r/ThadsMind if you're interested. | 2016-11-27T09:25:07 | 2016-11-27T09:14:58 | 174 | 23 |
[WP] Death has been on holiday since the start of 2016. You're his right hand, the Reaper in charge whenever he's gone. He's scheduled to be back in a weeks time, and you're panicking on how to explain what you've done this year. | Lightning strikes outside Death's lair. Although time was countless in the great beyond, by a mortal's sense it was quite late in the evening.
Within the High Grim Reaper's personal quarters, the remnants of quite a festive evening took place. On an antique Victoria Gramophone, Angel of the Morning played in a baroque rendition played. A demon smoked a most interesting weed on a couch in a corner, laughing to himself.
I lay underneath a pile of robes, recovering from one bender of a run. His highness, I mused, would be pleased of my work. I thought the count for musical souls was a little high, but it is not mine to reason why.
Sudden a commotion was heard. A minion was frantically searching the room. I sat up, removing the robes from me. "Igor, what is it?"
"There you are, me lord!" said Igor, in his customary lisp. "His Highness is on his way back from his travels..."
"Alright, help me organize the room," I say, unable to hide my annoyance.
"But one thing, me lord...." Igor was quite pensive.
"Oh what now?"
"That list of musicians you were working off of..."
"...."
"It was the High Reaper's list for his next 'Play List', not 'Reap List'....."
| Everything had been going great. Death numbers had risen in accordance with the population increase this year. Serial killer’s numbers had taken a slight dip, but the increase of deaths in the Middle East more than made up for it. I reminisced on what my boss Joe had said before leaving.
“It’s an easy job. Just make sure to kill a few people every now and then. We’re revving up for a mass death in 2018. I want to ease the universe into it.”
“No problem,” I had responded while playing my makeshift drum set consisting of my soda can, desk, and a pair of pencils. Aw man I should have taken those words to heart. I chuckled, heart. I hadn’t had one of those in a long time. How many years had I been dead? 1000, 2000, no had to have been at least 5000 years. While most people went to hell and a few to heaven a select and I mean very select few get chosen to work the death side of things. They do this for a few thousand millennia which really is not long in the scale of eternity. Joe is almost done with his term then I am supposed to step up and take his position as head of The Dept. of Reapers. It comes with black robes and a scythe. I find the black robes accentuate the white of the skeleton quite nicely. However, the outfit is only worn when we take a trip into The Universe and need to reinstill fear into species who think they have conquered death with technology or other means. Honestly, the job comes down one thing. Stamping approve or disapprove on papers which come to the desk. Sure the papers contain info on the entire individual’s life history but I’ve pretty much based my decisions solely on the person's picture. And sometimes I don’t like the way a baby smiles at me. From there, once the death is approved, how the actual death happens is completely out of the department’s control. Within a week the death will be processed and the person will be selected for placement in the afterlife.
Now back to my current predicament. I messed up bad. Real bad. That two day bender had been a horrible idea. My buddy Tim from our accounting department had sent me the video from Monday night when we broke into the office. I remembered the break in. However, everything after had been foggy. This video cleared it up.
“You going to do it?” giggled Tim as I held the approval stamp inches from the paper.
“I’m going to do it,” I giggled back like a school girl. “Seriously don’t dare me. I’ll do it.”
“You won’t!” Tim slurred. Smack the sound reverberated in the video. Lifting up the stamp, the video panned over to a red, fat approved on the picture of planet Earth.
Shit, shit, shit. I thought to myself as I replayed the video. Apparently, the newly elected president of the United States decided his best buddy in Russia was being a meanie. His words not mine. And uh, hit a few buttons he shouldn’t have. Long story short, Pluto is now more of a planet than earth will ever be.
Shouting echoed down the hall outside my door. A few seconds later Joe burst into the office. “YOU!" his voice shook in anger. "You killed his favorite planet. Dear God what am I going to tell him. I left for three freaking days. You know what happened last time reapers killed everyone on Earth with a flood?? DO YOU!? Eternal suffering!”
“Eternal Suffering?” I replied meekly pacing back and forth.
“Yes, eternal suffering. THE PLACE BELOW HELL!” screamed Joe.
“Um excuse me,” murmured our secretary quietly. “Old testament God is on the line.”
| 2016-12-27T16:18:56 | 2016-12-27T14:57:06 | 40 | 16 |
[WP] You've accidentally summoned an ancient, long-forgotten god while trying to pronounce furniture names at IKEA. Fortunately, the employees are prepared as this has happened before.
Edit: holy shit this really blew up overnight. Thank you to everyone who has written along, and to everyone else reading.
For those of you who are wondering if I got this prompt from this post:
https://www.reddit.com/r/memes/comments/aby6au/bought_a_table_and_suddenly_there_were_screams/
You are correct. I decided to put a different spin on it as I've seen this prompt, or one like it, before.
| "JENKINS!" The call came over the shoulder mounted radio. The *-Chirp-* it made was reminiscent of the old Nextels. Ours had to be updated, of course. Ikea standard issue. Prevented interference.
"Yeah?" I responded, between mouthfuls of meatball.
*-Chirp-* "WE GOT ANOTHER BIN 52!"
"Ah, shit. Another Mikkaelian?"
Ikea was an odd company. Weird, in the literal sense. We dealt with issues not a lot of other companies had to.
*-Chirp-* "Nah, looks like Blümlampish. Damage is pretty minimal."
"Yeah, but the clean up..."
*-Chirp-* "It's not so bad. Looks like he got into the swedish meatballs."
Suddenly, I had lost my appetite. I spit the food in my mouth into a napkin and frowned. "You know those things would almost be cute?"
*-Chirp-* "Like little cats , with mandibles."
"Felinsects I could handle, but it's the eerie singing that gets to me, man."
*-Chirp-* "Yeah, I feel ya."
"On my way."
I ate lunch outside, it was my happy place. Heading back in to find Johnson near freezer storage meant entering and navigating "the Floor." If you ever shopped at Ikea, you know the Floor; it's a virtual maze of storage units, easy-build furniture, and quirky decorative items one must walk through to reach the exit again. Conventional thought is that the Floor ensures customers see most of the merchandise before checking out on the ground floor. That's a nice benefit for Ikea, but that's not why we do it.
"Hold on, Johnson. We have a problem."
*-Chirp-* "Oh god, Jenkins. Don't tell me."
"There's a Blak Kallax trapped in the Floor."
*-Chirp-* "Shit."
"Yeah, he's headed for the children's section. I'm going in."
*-Chirp-* "Evacuating building. Pulling fire alarm."
"Good man, Johnson. Stay on the Blümlampish."
The massive creature was invisible for the moment, but a tantalizing snack is all he needs to wreck some havoc. But, that's why we're here.
"Time to insert rod B up your ass, Kallax."
"YOU'LL EAT THOSE WORDS, MORTAL."
"Come at me, you interdimensional piece of particle board." | "Excuse me, which wood is this, umm, BJÖRKSNÄS made from?"
As I was asking my question, by the reaction of IKEA employee I could understand that I butchered the pronunciation. As she opened her mouth to answer, with a loud snap the bulbs in the ceiling lightning blew up. I covered to not get hit by the shards and when I looked back at the customer area it was in complete darkness and the only source of lighting was the glowing shape in front of me. It looked like a crazy mix of a human and a bear, with it's claws and teeth being disproportionately big. Somehow I knew that this entity was vastly more powerful and older than anything I have seen in my life. I could feel the pressure of it's presence crushing my mind. It started slowly shambling towards me, but the IKEA worker shoved me aside.
"Please step back sir, I need to sort out this situation."
She started chanting something in what I could only assume was Swedish, and while she was doing it, two black shapes started moving around us in the darkness. When she finished her incantation, they plunged their claws into the monsters head and I could finally see they were giant black birds. With a swipe of a clawed paw the monster swatted the birds away. However out of nowhere two wolfs jumped on the monster and attacked it's legs, aiming for the tendons. They teared out chucks of the glowing flesh, however, the wounds they left quickly disappeared and a retaliation blow from the monster send one of the wolfs flying into the darkness, while the other one retreated on it's own. I turned to the girl, to ask her what was going on, but only a weak moan came out of my mouth. She noticed it:
"Sir, do not worry, this is a regular situation and the employee responsible for handling it is on his way. Please just stay calm and do not make any sudden movements."
Even if I wanted to move, my body was frozen, all I could do was watch the monster continue his advance towards me. Suddenly, it stopped and turned it's head looking at something out of my field of vision. I looked the same way and entering the circle of light around the creature was an elderly man. Under normal circumstances, I would find his look hilarious, as he was combining the standard yellow IKEA uniform with a long gray beard and a hat, which reminded me of Gandalf. In his hands he was carrying a spear. Slowly and casually he walked up to the monster and pierced him with the spear. With a shriek, the glowing shape disappeared. A few seconds later, the light lit up. When I looked up, the light bulbs were there as if they never exploded. The old man walked up the the IKEA girl.
"Look, dear, It turned out to be an elder god, but I sent him away. I fixed the hall, and there is only one customer here. Could you please not report this? I have already been penalized this year, another episode would be too much."
"I am sorry Wotan, but if they find out I will get in trouble."
"It will be fine, dear, no one will find out. And I can help you out with your studies later."
The girl seemed to consider it for a second.
"Alright, but you better help me get perfect marks this semester. After I graduate, I can finally find a good job without ancient monsters."
The old man chuckled as he slowly walked away and disappeared into staff room in the back of the hall. The girl turned to me.
"First of all, let me apologize for what you had to witness. Customers are our top priority, which is why I will get you a discount coupon and a free portion of meatballs in cafeteria."
"But what the hell just happened?!"
"You see, our management employs the service of the Wotan, who you just met. You might know him by the name Odin. He gives them advice on management based on predictions of future and they let him give the names to furniture from time to time. He somehow uses people reading names to sustain the existence of himself and his folk. However, sometimes something like this happens. He says it's on accident, but no one believes the god of wisdom would make a blunder, so he gets punished."
"So you are saying the Odin, The head of Northern pantheon, works in IKEA?! And he gets punished?!"
"Well, yes, they lower the quota of furniture names he gets. No one really knows why he does this though. Maybe it helps him get more powerful, maybe for the fun of it. I think he just enjoys tricking the management. But anyway, he has it under control, no one ever got hurt. Also, good job keeping your composure, most people start screaming or faint."
"Thank you I guess. I still don't think I believe what I just saw. It will take time to process everything. Anyway which wood is ... *this piece of furniture* made from?" | 2019-01-03T00:56:07 | 2019-01-03T00:35:09 | 20 | 10 |
[WP] Over the years your D&D game has managed to continue with most of the original players. However, almost everyone's life circumstances have changed drastically since they began and you now DM for a group of some of the most-powerful people on the planet. | I was packing up my things from our latest session, reorganizing notes and stowing my books when Kate slid a long, silver-wrapped box towards me, smiling. I looked at her, and saw the rest of the party was watching too. "What's this?"
Akbar said, "It's a gift, from all of us."
"...Did I miss some anniversary or something?" I took the box. The wrapping was professionally done, a raised rough pattern of silver and black cut diagonally across the paper.
"No...uh...to be honest this is something we have-"
"-and some of our people-" Cut in Markos.
"-and some of our people have been talking back and forth about for sometime. It's...a..."
Kate moved a step closer to me. "When you told us about those people accosting you at the coffee shop about the Trans-Atlantic Trade Union, well...we-"
I laughed. "Oh, I honestly almost forgot about that. That was so weird. I was just like-"
Markos said, "Martin, that was because of us."
I stared at him, then I looked to the others. They all seemed nervous...anxious. I looked back at Kate.
"They found you because you know us. They were trying to convince you to talk to us, Martin."
Akbar was holding his red-leather suitcase, resting it on the ornately carved table. He said, "You have access to us. You know us. We somehow manage to schedule this every month." The group, myself included, smiled. "A lot of people would pay a lot of money to...bend our ear. We don't...-"
Markos nodded to me. "Open the gift, Martin."
Looking between them, I began to slowly tear at the wrapping paper, inevitably exposing the box beneath. I opened it, slid some tissue paper aside and-
The cloth was silk, a silvery gray with hints of a deep purple as it moved. Black patterns were sewn into it, elements of water, tides and waves, a reference to our previous campaign. I pulled the cloth out and it unfolded into...a robe.
"Try it on," said Kate.
I did so and found it fit me perfectly. There was a hood as well. I pulled it up and the shadows closed over my eyes. "This is amazing! I-" I noticed there was something else in the box. It was a mask. Its surface was polished obsidian, set in a spacious pattern, the shadowed gaps adding depth to its surface. I picked it up and held it.
Markos said, "Martin, you didn't choose the lives we did. It's unfair that you suffer their consequences too."
Akbar said, "We want to...protect your anonymity. This is what we came up with."
Kate said, "Plus, it's just...super cool. What do you think?"
I held the mask in my hands, pulled my hood back, donned the mask, perfectly contoured to my face, and raised my hood.
I recalled the voice of the BBEG from our first campaign all those years ago. "HOW DO I LOOK?"
...
It was that day that I became the Hidden Master. | "You enter the tavern. It's filled to the bring with people, laughing and drinking. In the back an old man is sitting on his own, looking distressed, tears visually dripping down his cheek. Jonathan what's your move?"
"I walk up to the old man in the back"
"Sir we need to secure the room first"
"For the 6th time James it's a game. No need to secure the room. Nothing is going to happen to me in here"
"It's protocol, sir"
"Just, just let him. Roll james, for securing the room" I said sighting internally, remembering the stubbornes of James from last week's game. James picks up the dices and rolls, landing on a 12.
"Did we do it? We did right? 12 is a good roll right?"
"Yes, James. The secret service successfully sweeped the room. Nothing suspicious was found"
"Fuck yeah. We did it!" James bodyslam his partner."Ow, uhm sorry sir. Just got caught in the moment. Won't happen again, Sir"
"Don't worry about it James. I Just want to get on with the story. So I walk up to the old man and sit down, asking if everything is right"
"The old man looks up to the heroes, and with a voice echoed with dispair he answers. No, sir. My farm, they took my farm. Those necromancers took my farm. My poor Lucy. She is still at the farm. My daughter Lucy."
"I need a drink", Luca interrupted the old man. "I wave the barwench over to our table. Give her a good look over from top to toe. What your upto later tonight, I ask her"
Classic Luca, always going after barmaidens. I'm glad that hasn't changed yet. "Roll the dice, Luca"
Luca rolls the dice with force, like he always has done, landing on a 6 at the edge of the table.
"The barmaidens turns you down" I say smiling slightly. Glad that part hasn't changed either.
"Should I make her dissappear, boss? Nobody would find her" Tony oppered.
"No it's fine, Tony. And maybe stop bringing up dispatching people, Tony."
"Sorry boss. Won't happen again Boss. What about scaring her a bit? Cut of a finger or two, teach her a lesson." Tony stopped for a second, before his eyes seemed to light up. "She has a pet?"
"Sure Tony why not. She has a cat, whiskers"
"I kill the cat"
"You want to kill her cat?"
"Yep, going to kill that cat, hang it front of her door. That will send her the message"
"Killing her cat.. . Just roll I guess"
Tony rolls the dice, hitting a 2. "Ow come on. Just don't let me stab myself, again. They already call me clumsy Tony"
I smiled before answering "Whiskers was much more agile than you anticipated. Seeing you jumping with a knife towards him, whiskers dodged quickly to the left and shoot behind you. Before you could even turn, his claws where already deep clinched in your buttcheeks"
"Hehe, Tony buttscratch" Lisa smirked. Luca couldn't help smiling himself aswell "Well that's better of a nickname, Buttscratch?" Tony didn't looked pleased with his new nickname, giving a dirty look to his palls scratching their butts ironically.
Before Tony could answer and we would be stuck in a nickname contest for an hour again, I continued the story. "The old man looks lady Macarena in the eyes. I can't defend my farm, my lady. I'm just an old man, my bones already ring when I walk down the stairs. But a wizard as you shouldn't have any problem with these necromancers. You wouldn't say no to an old man, would you?"
Liza always up for a quest quickly answered."off course we will except your quest, and save your daughter"
"He is holding back information, madam. I can hear it in his voice. Give me five minutes with him, I will get him to talk"
"Steve, not everyone is a double agent in this game. He is an old man, scared for his daughters savety. He doesn't need to be interrogated.
"Yes, madam. I just think you just can't be to save. Like you always say: Expect the best, prepare for the worst. Doing the pig test won't hurt."
The pig test was Steve's preferred way of interrogate people after waterboarding didn't had much effect on the mermaid, and he had to come up with more creative ways: transform the foe into a piece of corn, throw him into a pigsdan, and if his soul is pure, he will survive.
"No pigtest. That 7 year old stable boy wasn't a double agent, even if a '7 year old shouldn't know the word disgrunted'. And I highly doubt that mermaid was either."
"Yeah pigs eat everything" Tony jumped in. "they devoured uncle Antonio in mear hours"
"Tony" Luca threw him look to make him shut up.
"I ment Antonio's garden. Yeah ate his whole garden" Tony corrected quickly, followed by a 'Sorry boss' whisper which wasn't as inaudible he though in this little room.
"Never mind all that" Lisa continued, "shall we get this quest going?". And so the party of six made their way to the farm. Let by the righteous Paladin John, with Wizard Lady Macarena and Rogue Handsome Stabby right to his side followed by their new loyal companions, Agent James, Buttscratch Tony, and special agent Steve (he gets mad when you forget special). | 2019-06-26T04:06:24 | 2019-06-26T03:14:31 | 2,520 | 149 |
[WP] People's powers match their personality: impatient people get super speed, protective people get force fields and so on. Explaining why you have your power is... difficult. | The way my schedule works gives me little to no space for rest or even just idling around. Everyday consists of me dragging myself to class and trying not to pass out every 30 seconds. I think of how nice other people have it being able to warp to class because they were just a little to impatient. Or how others don't need to study because they were a little too nozy and managed to get all the information they need from classmates and their professors just by greeting them. My alarm goes off and once again, I begin to get ready for my morning classes. I look out from my window and look at all the other students frantically speeding through each other while one manages to collide with a trash can. I start getting ready before I realize today is exam day. I begin running to class and plop myself down and watch as another student phase through a bunch of people and takes a seat next to me. I stare at the person next to me and realize that he isn't exactly the most sociable person in the world so I avoid eye contact. Unfortunately with all this super power talk going around, even introverts can break the ice without someone else starting.
"What's your power?" He asks.
"My lack of sleep and tight schedule." I say as I frantically look through my notes.
"Oh, so is it being able to get stuff done instantly?"
At this point I just stare, I'm fucking exhausted and I'm really not in the mood for a conversation. So I just ignore the poor sod and carry on. A few hours after the exam I'm sure I failed. I decide to just hit the sack and sleep in for the rest of the day.
My alarm goes off and once again, I begin to get ready for my morning classes. I look out from my window and look at all the other students frantically speeding through each other while one manages to collide with a trash can. I start getting ready before I realize today is exam day. I begin running to class and plop myself down and watch as another student phase through a bunch of people and takes a seat next to me. I stare at the person next to me and realize that he isn't exactly the most sociable person in the world so I avoid eye contact. Unfortunately with all this super power talk going around, even introverts can break the ice without someone else starting.
"What's your power?" He asks.
"Sorry I'm really busy at the moment." I respond staring blankly at my desk.
A few hours after the exam I'm sure I failed. I decide to just hit the sack and sleep in for the rest of the day.
My alarm goes off for the 7th time this loop. I get dressed, get to class and sit at the same desk once again. Another student phases through a bunch of people and takes a seat next to me.
"What's your power?" He asks.
"I just really suck at time management I guess. Even with all the time in the world." I respond.
He stares at me with a confused expression on his face and goes back to reviewing his notes. Today is different though, maybe I'll finally ace this exam and not mess anything up. Maybe after I pass the exam, I get to finally do something tomorrow without worrying about every assignment I turn in. Tomorrow is going to be a good day. | Tears well in her eyes as the man falls to the floor. "I'm sorry," she whispers hoarsely, barely able to stand the look of horror and shock on his face, though it was fading fast. "I don't know what else to do."
The dust around him hardly settles before the concrete floor is blinded by spotlights, police and SWAT teams flooding the room and surrounding them in a circle.
Her eyes widen in horror and she steps back from the man, her mind trying to come up with an excuse, or anything to explain her reasons for being in a warehouse at 2AM, standing over a man who's whole world just came crashing down over him. For a brief moment, she feels betrayal, but then she realizes she has absolutely no right to.
As the police shout at her, she calmly raises both of her hands. Several of them approach, their powers flowing confidently in skin and weapons made of nearly-indestructible materials, apparently immune to her own. She tries not to cry, but it's all too fresh, and the tears fall anyway.
They roughly pull her arms behind her back, forcing her into the back of a vehicle and driving what seems a very long distance "downtown". Yet after that it's almost as if she only blinks and is suddenly in a dark room with a mirror on one wall sitting at a metal table with only a single light and man glaring at her.
"What did you do to them?" he demanded.
"Do what?" the word left her mouth before she even realized he'd asked her. The lies had come so easily to her now, before and after her... crimes.
The officer didn't even try to play along. "It's taken us so long to find you, and each time we found your victims you were gone. So why such an easy place this time?"
She partially ignored his question, trying for a different approach, knowing it probably wouldn't help but hoping anyway. "He wasn't hurt. None of them were."
"Maybe not, but they were... different."
"I still don't see the problem here." Even now her shame was fading, peeling away into the background where it lived. She hadn't been as thorough this time, and she took very little from him.
The officer paced, but knew he shouldn't get near her. They'd figured out she was useless if she couldn't touch anyone. "The problem is that the man with you tonight is, from what his friends and family tell us, charismatic and loves to talk. But the man sitting in our car unit right now barely responds to anything."
She shrugged, trying to ignore her dry eyes. "It could be stress, or his environment."
"You're lying," he said."
"I'm not," she replied.
The officer sat down. "You are. Know how I know? Because I have a power too. Know what it is?"
She didn't answer, but he probably didn't expect her to.
"Empathy. I can feel others emotions. And when I saw that man, I felt what he felt: absolutely nothing."
Of course. Who better to interrogate prisoners than a man who knows when someone is lying. "And what do you feel from me?" she asked in an effort to sound unaffected, but her voice shook.
"I don't know. My powers work by touch, but so do yours."
She looked down. "Not right now. I can only use them once every so often."
"What are they? You absorb something from your victims. What is it? Youth, stamina, or something else?"
She was cracking and she knew it. A part of her knew if she only held out a little longer, she wouldn't tell. But the other part of her wanted to. She supposed she shouldn't, but right here, right now, when she was supposed to be feeling a rush, she only felt tired. She knew she couldn't find the right words to explain, so she only looked back up at him and moved her cuffed hands as far forward as possible.
"Look for yourself."
"What?"
"They're fading now. I won't do anything, I can control it, but you'll understand if you use your ability."
He looked at her as if she was crazy. "Do you really think I'll fall for that?"
"No, but even without touching me you should still know I'm telling the truth."
She expected him to refuse, or even leave the room to discuss it with the superiors she knew were watching them behind that mirror. But to her faint surprise he simply reached for her, one large hand gently falling on her wrist. Time stilled for a moment, but a moment was all it took for him to feel her emotions draining out of her.
The emotions she stole from that man. The only emotions she would ever feel.
The officer pulled back, shock on his face. He looked at her, the hostility completely gone if only for a moment as he processed what he'd felt.
"So do you finally understand why I do what I do? I know it's wrong, of course. But it's the only way." She looked away, not caring who knew anymore, having just enough emotion left to understand the need to tell. "I didn't always have my power. And I didn't always need it. It and my... affliction came around the same time. I don't like it, but using it is the only way I feel things... feel alive."
There was only a tiny bit left now. The strongest emotions she always felt were the negative kind. She didn't know if they were remnants from the host, or if that's just how they worked, having forgotten what it was like to have her own.
But whatever happened to her now, she hoped that maybe, just maybe, some day she wouldn't need it. | 2019-09-08T11:41:24 | 2019-09-08T10:22:20 | 31 | 19 |
[WP] People's powers match their personality: impatient people get super speed, protective people get force fields and so on. Explaining why you have your power is... difficult. | The first time it happened was in 5th grade. It had been a day like any other for me up until that moment; go to school, listen to the other kids brag about their amazing powers and then be mocked for not having manifested mine yet. It really wasn’t anything out of the ordinary.
But that day when they finally came around to rubbing my perceived lack of power in my face, it felt like a fire had sparked in my gut and from there it spread outwards through my entire being. It was a fire born of indignation that instilled within me a desire for the world to be different; for it to shift to what I saw fit. *And it did*; within a single moment the world seemed to twist itself into a new reality and suddenly nobody in that room had any power anymore. Those showcasing theirs just moments before were suddenly left looking like powerless fools.
I still remember that one kid that fell out of mid-air and his confusion at being left flightless.
The sheer amount of panic that ensued then and there resulted in a rather stressful situation for everybody involved and a cacophony of loud noises. In my already fairly annoyed state, I wished for those noises to stop and with that wish that spark that had still been faintly smouldering within me ignited again and left all of them speechless, literally, they no longer had the ability to speak. Needless to say they panicked further.
And it was that moment when they could no longer speak that I understood *I* had done that; *I* had warped reality.
And then I panicked and to be fair who wouldn’t. After all I had no idea how my ability worked. What if I couldn’t reverse it? And out of that panic that spark in my stomach ignited for one last time that day with the desire to reverse things to how they were before. And they did, reality conformed to my will once more and everything was as if my power had never activated in the first place. No one even remembered anything from that incident.
After that I didn’t manage to utilise my ability again until I found a young kitten by the side of the road whose hind legs had been run over. That sight made my gut wrench and I wanted nothing more than to challenge the cruel reality and so I did. The fire coursed through me once more and with it came the changes to reality and the kitten was healed.
It was then that I understood what my power was. It wasn’t the ability to change reality as I saw fit but to challenge it. I could rebel against the world and if I had enough willpower and desire, I would emerge victorious.
I had the power of rebellion. | My power is unique to me, and me alone. You see, I’ve always believed that current modern society wasn’t for me; it always felt like I was stuck in a prison, and as “free” as I was in this prison, it was still a prison. I’m very introverted, you see, so I’ve always had a hard time expressing myself, and it didn’t help that I felt so much pressure from my family and the world around me to make something of myself. This prison had layers, you could say. You couldn’t just say, “fuck what society asks of you, be you and do what you love if it doesn’t hurt anyone,” that’d be crazy. Instead, you’d get a more indoctrinated response from everyone telling you that if you didn’t follow the trends or go with the flow that you’d never make it out in life, or that if you didn’t do x-thing, you couldn’t become successful. In fact, a lot of people’s artificial happiness were based on the superficial opinions of others and it drained me a lot. Eventually, I just didn’t give a fuck. Fuck this system of people talking down to me just because they never dared to dream and fuck them for never having dared to chase their passions. They were trained by society to be this way and they were trained in the same way to never exceed this low plateau. In a way, I became a trailblazer of sorts. People were drawn to me and followed closely as they too began to chase their dreams and passions.
That’s how it all started.
One day, I met a teenager who expressed his utmost respect for me, for I was the sole reason why he was able to achieve his dream at such a young age. Impressive, right? At such a young age, all I could do was dream and hope for the best, but here was a young man who told me he had already achieved his dream. I asked him what his dream was and in response, he told me, “it’s better if I show you instead.”
I couldn’t believe it.
The young man was... flying. He wasn’t just floating a few feet above ground, he was pushing speeds above fifty kilometers per hour with twists and turns that no plane or copter could imitate. The sight of seeing a fellow human fly in such a manner was nothing short of marvelous. “What splendid technology! How did you come up with such an invention?” I asked in anxious curiosity.
“Technology? Oh, I’m not really that smart, but I kind of just took your advice and believed in myself and my dreams because it didn’t hurt anyone. My dream is to fly and be as free as the wind, to not be chained by the social constructs of society and to never be tethered to anything I’m not emotionally or spiritually invested in. After meditating on these thoughts for a week or so, I went to go play basketball with a few friends and ended up making my first dunk... from the other side of the court. It was crazy! I’m only five feet and six inches tall and I literally soared over the court. You had to be there to believe it. When I got home, I jumped to get to the top of my roof. Then I jumped from the roof to see how high I could jump and I just... never fell down. That’s when I realized I could float! I continued to push these tests and realized I could even move in the air; slowly at first, but eventually I flew so fast that my body couldn’t handle the speed that I was approaching. It’s absolutely insane! None of this would have happened if you never came to my high school to be a speaker for our “Hopes and Dreams” spirit week half a year ago.”
He was the first. Eventually, more and more people came to me, all with new revelations, all with new abilities. It took me a few years to understand the catalyst for this change; the only people who developed new powers were those who adopted my philosophy.
“As long as you don’t hurt anyone, you are free to live your life the way you want to and be free to pursue your own happiness.”
You ask me what my power is, Mr. Interrogator, so I will now enlighten you: my power is freedom at its highest, most noble degree. As long as I never hurt anyone, I am free to do whatever it is I like. My followers share the same sentiment, for we are the misunderstood, we are the forgotten, we are the outcasts shunned by your society. We are the dreamers who dreamed to dream, we are the hopeful who hoped for a chance at happiness. We have never hurt anyone for we understand how it feels to hurt, and yet here we are in this very predicament, Mr. Interrogator, chained at your leisure because your superiors fear us. So I say this now, Mr. Interrogator.
You can never chain us. We will always be free. | 2019-09-08T12:47:50 | 2019-09-08T11:02:00 | 21 | 13 |
[WP] At the age of 16 everyone gets teleported into a small room. In front of you is a table with all kinds of meals from apples to gourmet meats. Whatever you take a bite of will determine what superpower you'll get. You are the first Person to take a bite of the table itself | “hnnng” I groaned as I cracked my fingers stretching after a long day at the office.
The screens are just blinking... the lcd glow of my life
I think back to 20 years ago biting that table
At least it’s landed me a cushy income stream.
I clapped my hands and the spreadsheets and databases in front of me started moving erratically
Concentrating “JOIN TABLES!”
Ignoring all security protocols and firewalls, the worlds databases all began to merge at super speed.
I sat back to enjoy my work
My phone rings, it’s from the national Treasurer
“Ok, how much do you want *this time* to undo the mess you just made?” | The Arbiter was looked tired of our shit. Me and my friend, Melty still hadn't decided much to the annoyance of literally everyone else.
"C'mon guys, just pick one!" yelled Clarissa, shooting a blank at us with a finger gun. One more reason to hate licorice bullets, I suppose.
"Kids, there isn't a time limit here but none of you can leave until everyone has chosen. Melty and Albeda, please choose." sighed the Arbiter, tapping his tablet quickly. Melty wasn't the brightest bulb, so she probably wouldn't eat before I did. I really wanted to choose, but there was just so much! The table stretched into infinity, there was a little search bar above the brioche for people with more elusive tastes. Everyone else seemed to pick easily, but I had waited to see what everyone else got. It seemed more basic stuff had more solid powers, and exotic food had either super cool or super drool. Just like the food themselves, perhaps? I was still mulling it over when I felt Jayln step behind me. Her body was beefy, just like her dish.
"Make choice. Or I'll make you bite the wood. You losers might have time to waste, but most of us have things to do." she thundered, leaning threateningly over me. Ah shit. I can't do anything under pressure. A bead of sweat ran down my neck. Everyone was looking at me and Jayln, silent. The meat nomster could only contain her patience for a minute when I made no move to choose. My body was picked up by my head, Jayln's sausage fingers intruding on my vision. I opened my mouth to let out a squeal of surprise, only to be filled with wood, blood and teeth.
"AHHHHH!" I screamed, dropping from the splintered table and held my mouth. I sobbed quietly into my hand, blood dribbling through my fingers. Someone who had taken a gander at Aloe Vera rushed over to me, dulling the pain and restoring my mouth. Clarissa stormed over to Jayln, finger gun already pointed at her head.
"What the hell, man? We just wanted him to pick, not get fucking smashed! Arbiter, can you reverse the power picking? There's no way this psycho should be allowed get back into our world. Albeda might have been seriously hurt if there wasn't a healer." she cried out, to a murmur of agreement. I was seriously injured, I thought.
"Unfortunately no. It's your power for life, not even a Grand Judge can take it away from you. Now, Albeda, your power is-"
"My power?!" I said aghast, only vaguely noting my mouth's functionality. "I haven't eaten anything."
"Criteria is bite, not eat. And Jayln fulfilled her promise, you definitely bit the table. So, your power. You're invisible until you do something wrong."
"I cannot believe this," I muttered. What a shitty ability.
"And Melty's power... " I looked over to my friend in horror as I saw her chewing on her nails in anxiety. | 2020-03-19T12:37:45 | 2020-03-19T10:47:29 | 16 | 12 |
[WP] “Uh Sir...The leftovers at the back of the refrigeration unit has begun broadcasting radio waves. Apparently sentient life has formed inside. They call themselves humanity.” | What the hell do you mean the leftovers at the back of the refrigeration unit has begun broadcasting radio waves? We chilled that down 13 billion years ago. It should have all lumped together into storage atoms.
Uh, yes sir. We hit 80% complete after 373,825 years. Mostly matter with void in between. And, as noted, an interesting side-effect of the void is this "radiation" that travels through it.
But there's nothing there. So what?
The stuff sort of... skates across more or less unchanged. It's being used for communication?
Pattern naturally form all the time. I read the report about pulsars. Very beutiful, but it's not communication.
Well apparently sentient life has formed inside. They call themselves humanity. We've captured some of their signals have have translated it into a real plasma stream. Here,
He want that cake, cake,
Cake, cake, cake, cake, cake
Cake, cake, cake, cake, cake
Cake, cake, cake
Ooh baby, I like it
You so excited
Don't try to hide it
I'mma make you my bitch
Cake, cake, cake, cake
Cake, cake, cake, cake
Cake, cake, cake, cake
Cake, cake, cake
....Sterilize it. And scramble those lumps of hydrogen a little so they stop forming bigger elements. | "WHAT?!" The Captain asked. "What do you mean, *they are forming into Sentient Life,* Private?"
He stared Incredulously at the Private who had just run up to him, claiming that the Leftovers were turning into their own civilization. He thought it was ridiculous. "How can they form? How can they Broadcast? *They, are, food.*" He said to the Private In disbelief. Shaking his head and turning back to the Bridge.
The Private sighed and spoke again. "Uhm, sir... Come see for yourself, sir." He motioned towards the sliding doors at the end of the bridge.
The Captain thought it was rubbish, but he agreed to go along anyway. So, they made their way towards the Refrigerator Unit near the back of the ship.
The Captain blinked and the Private stepped inside. The Captain following him as he went. There, they found something that looked alot like them. It had two legs and two arms, two hands, two feet, two of pretty much everything but a head, nose and mouth. It only had one of those.
The Captain stared at it. "What is this Rubbish?! I don't understand! How is this possible!? What's going on!?" He stared to move towards the creature.
"Uhm... Sir." The Private spoke. When suddenly, the radio on the counter began SPEAKING. "We are Humanity, we want OFF of this Ship. We are going to start our OWN Civilization." The Captain stared before speaking. "What?!" The Captain went into a laughing fit. "Y-...You're a Piece of Food!!" HE shouted as he stared at them. "You aren't a Civilization!"
"WE. ARE. HUMANITY!" The Radio bellowed as the Captain continued to laugh. "WE. WILL. START. OUR. OUR. OWN. CIVILIZATION. FREE. OF. IDIOTS. LIKE. YOU!"
*Ouch, that must've hurt.*
The Captain was taken aback. "ME?! AN IDIOT!" He giggled uncontrollably like a baby. "YOU ARE FOOD AND YOU WANT TO START A CIVILIZATION?" The Captain laughed. "Sir!!" The Private called out. "You musn't offend the, eerr..." He blinked and looked at the Sludge Being. "HUMANITY!" It roared, flailing it's arms in outrage and covering everything in old leftovers.
"YCHH!" The Captain screamed. "DO YOU KNOW HOW LONG IT TAKES TO CLEAN THIS SUIT?!" He groaned and stared at the Creature. "You deserved it." The Creature simply said with something like a snicker.
The Captain's face turned Beet-Red with Outrage. "WHAT? I DID NOT!" He screamed and started flailing his own arms. "YOU STUPID, DUMB, CRUST, IDIOT, FOOD!" He used many other *choice words* that we won't mention here. Because... Reasons.
The Creature just laughed the whole time he screamed, before reaching down and plucking the Captain off the ground like he was a Soda Can. Then, they blinked and held the screaming Captain at face level.
The whole time the Captain had now been screaming as the Private attempted to save him, grabbing the Captain's pants and Underwear, accidentally. Pulling them down because the Captain wiggled too much.
The Captain screamed before going silent as the Creature shoved the Captain inside of itself. His body now floating around with all the other Junk it had ingested as it High-Fived the Private.
*Today, they would take over a Ship, tomorrow, they would create a Civilization...*
\----------------------------------------------------------------------------
Look! More Stories! ------> [The Writing Files (My Works)](https://www.reddit.com/r/thewritingfiles/) | 2020-11-11T14:24:53 | 2020-11-11T10:51:27 | 80 | 45 |
[WP] After hearing complaints countless times the hero just turns himself in and goes to prison. Now that the villains are destroying the city and running wild everyone is trying the convince the hero to come out and save the day. But the hero is not having any of this shit | "2610." I repeated the number slowly and with emphasis. "Two Thousand six hundred and ten."
"I keep a tally. I always keep a tally. That my stock and trade. Well it would have been if not for -"
I raise the green goop my arm had become.
"Y'know I used to believe in all this. Freedom! Righteousness! The Goodness in man!"
I shook my head.
"But you robbed me of that day by day a little crime at a time. A little greed here, a little bad there. I warned you! Over and over and over! Look at slums! Superpowers don't care about rich or poor. You want to stop villains then you have to take away their reason to BE villains. They aren't born. They are made."
"But -"
"Save your breath senator. I forgot you prefer Doctor that's the title you claim isn't it. During all your speeches, all your rallies. Since you have forgotten let me remind you of the fundamentals. You don't treat the symptoms, you find the cause."
I shrugged.
"But that's hard isn't it? Easier to blame someone else, blame the villains that you made every day you slapped away their hands, sneered at their misfortune. You made this rope senator, braided day by day, it grew long under your watch. You built the gallows you manufactured the lever and now that the rope is around your neck the lever set you plead to save yourself from the hanging you set for yourself."
"What about the victims!"
"Don't hide behind the innocents now! You're their leader? Lead them! Oh wait that's right you only want power when it's convenient, ignoring it's price! People will die and if you want someone to blame look in the mirror."
"Oh, 2770 now. Lives you failed, lives that ended because of you. Good day Senator" | “Look, I’m only going to ask one more time. Please help us. The city *needs* you.’
“Oh, *do* they?” muttered the caped crusader, barely glancing up from what he might call a piece of “historical fiction” - a comic book with his face plastered in bright colors front-and-center on the cover.
Captain Spectacular leaned back against the cold stone of the prison bench, looking utterly relaxed, unlike the very annoyed woman who had been standing over him for the past few minutes. As one of the few people who knew him outside of his strange profession, she was also one of the few people able to put up with him.
“Yes, it does,” Diane said, her insistence bleeding into anger. “And I think you know *damn well-*”
“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” he interrupted, flipping the page of his comic. “There’s no internet in this cell, after all.”
“And you haven’t noticed that all the guards seem to be off duty? The various horrible screams coming from directly outside this building? For heaven’s sake, there is literally a goddamn hole blown through the ceiling.”
The Captain looked up at the giant hole punched through the wall of the holding cell, roughly the size of a giant robotic monster’s left foot. The clouds above were an unusual shade of red, with frost-blue lighting slamming down into the streets by the sound of thunder that sounded less like thunder and more like the roar of said giant robotic monster.
“Hmm,” he said, and turned back to his book.
“You know, it’s an odd coincidence that all the city’s major villains managed to escape on the same day you turned yourself in,” she said, gritting her teeth.
“Strange indeed,” he said. “Don’t get me wrong, I’d love to help. But destroying city property is a *very* serious offense. As some helpful citizens have pointed out.”
“Oh, for the love of - is that what this is about?”
He sighed. “I’m a menace to society. Who knows what kind of chaos would be let loose with people like me out on the street?”
His words were punctuated by the sound of several lasers being fired into a large and heavily populated office building.
“All of your complaints have come from the elderly, who you could *very easily compensate*\-”
“Exactly! That’s what I’m doing.”
Diane slapped her forehead. “That’s not what I - aargh!” She changed her tactic. “Look, you could alternatively compensate *the entire city, right now*, by, I don’t know, *preventing it’s destruction*. As famous heros, such as yourself, are supposed to do, instead of lying around in prison cells being petty assholes.”
“Funny thing, I remember the last time I saved the city from certain doom. It was-when was it? Oh, that’s right, a week ago. I remember that *after* the fact, I received a very harsh letter from a citizen who said I ‘destroyed their car.’ Who was the petty one in that scenario, Diane?”
Muffling a scream, Diane took a deep breath, turned around, and began to walk towards the cell door. This clearly wasn’t getting anywhere.
Unless…
As Diane opened the door, she let out an extremely exaggerated sigh. “Sure is a shame that the first thing all those villains went after was your beautiful condo up by the mountainside.”
The book slammed shut. “*What*?*”*
Whistling, Diane walked out of the room.
“You’re joking,” yelled Captain Spectacular.
She turned around with a grin. “Only one way to find out,” she responded.
The heavyset man stared at her blankly, his face consorting into a mirage of emotions, until - with one last defiant grown - he tossed the book on the floor and stood up. “You owe me for this,” he muttered, before gazing up at the hole in the ceiling again and flying out into the storm beyond.
Diane smirked. Her brother could be a pain, but was fairly easy to win over if you knew what he *really* cared about.
She picked up the crumbled comic, reclined on the bench, and read. The sounds of the battle outside made for some nice background music. | 2021-03-18T13:37:30 | 2021-03-18T12:14:25 | 126 | 63 |
[WP] When a woman is married, she fully becomes part of the family she marries into. Last name, customs, DNA. Everything. So you have been exclusively courting dragons.
half inspired by [this post](https://old.reddit.com/r/facepalm/comments/nbiu2t/yeah_sure/), half inspired by Marge Simpson's misunderstanding. | “When I grow up, I want to be a dragon!” I told my parents.
My father, looked toward my mother and raised a brow. She sighed, nodded, and spoke, “Little blossom, did you know that I was not always an elf?”
Being curious about this, I reply, “You’ve always said that, but never what it means.”
“Indeed,” my mother gained a hint of a smile, “do you know why?” I shake my head, so she continues, “When you can guess why I have not told you, you will be ready for me to tell you.”
I’m not happy with the answer, but it gives me something to think about in the coming years. I guessed multiple times, “Is it because you didn’t like what you were before?” “Is it because it requires dark magic?” “Is it because it made you change?” “Is it because you forgot how to do it?”
But eventually, I guessed correctly.
“Is it because you can never change back?”
I was now entering young adulthood as an elf, and was becoming more curious about the world. My parents shared a look, just as they had thirty years prior. It seemed I had said something correct.
My mother spoke first, “You are ready. All your questions, I’ll answer them as best as I can.”
My mind was swimming, so many questions to ask, but one reached the surface first. “How did you become an elf?”
She smiled a joyous smile at sharing her long held secret, “I married your father.” I stayed quiet as she explained marriage, and the blessings it entailed. The most noteworthy being how the wife changes to join in the family of the husband.
I thought for a couple minutes, enjoying my tea, before asking, “How do I court a dragon.”
This time, my father answered, “Courting any man is a simple task. Be someone who’s presence they enjoy, and make it clear you are interested in them.”
“But what about gifts? Should I learn how to sing? Should I bring gems and jewels? Should I focus on giving compliments? Should I act aloof? What do I do to be desirable?”
My father chuckled, “That, little blossom, would depend on the dragon.”
__________________________________________
“Who would enter my domain?” a voice rumbled from the cave, speaking in the common tongue. Deeper than I had heard previously, but also holding more theatrics.
I smiled, the dwarves spoke honestly about the cave’s contents and location. Perhaps they expected me to be an adventure, a slayer of great wyrms. I replied in the dragon’s tongue, “A person who comes in three parts.”
A moment’s pause before the voice replied, confusion apparent and now in dragon speak, “What parts are these.”
Confidence spread into my voice, this was a line I’d practiced, “In order, excitement, courage, and foolishness.”
Wisps of smoke left the cave. “Excitement to fight, courage to battle, foolishness to think you can win?”
“No in all cases.” I sat in front of the cave, careful not to enter, but not shying away. “Excitement to meet you, courage to speak with you, and the foolishness to make a request.”
A grumble left the cave, “What request would that be?”
A blush quickly rose to my face. This was the first time I was not dismissed outright. I had to clear my tightening throat before asking, “May I join you for some tea?”
Loud laughter roared from the cavern, shaking dust and pebbles from the ceiling, “The gall of that foolish request. I suppose it might make for an interesting day. You may enter.” With the last word, arcane runes flared up and brought light to the cave, reflecting off the silver dragon that called the place home.
I stood up, gave a deep bow and smiled at finally being given a chance, “Thank you kindly, sir dragon.”
“Hmmm,” he tilted his head in thought, “if we are to share time and tea, at least we could share names as well.”
“Of course,” I gave a curtsy, “My name is Arshanta Ilphualusfaen, but please call me Arshanta.”
In an unpracticed and stiff gesture, the dragon nodded his head slightly, “And I am Xarzithmiirik. So tell me, Arshanta, why would seek out a dragon for tea?”
“Do pardon me, Xarzithmiirik, but a lady must keep *some* secrets. May I use some magic to bring some things here? You are free to keep what I bring.”
He eyed her warily, “You may, though I hardly think that gifts would be required when you’re welcomed in.”
“It is not a matter of bribing you, Xarzithmiirik, it is that I only have enough magic to summon the larger items once a week,” with that, I finished the hand gestures and summoned two tea sets on the ground. One was a simple ceramic one to remind me of home, the other was a 8 foot tall, 6 foot diameter metal pot with etchings of the skyscape around my village tree. I hoped he would like it.
He studied the large kettle, and the similarly massive metal mug. Eventually he smiled, “And here I was worried the tea would have to be excessively strong to taste it. Very well, Arshanta, you have my interest. What did you wish to talk about?”
“What is it like to fly with your own wings?”
He paused to consider something, then leaned in close, his head within arm’s reach. He murmured surprisingly softly, “Promise me you won’t tell anyone, and I’ll give you a ride.”
I leaned forward, planted a kiss on his snout, and replied, “I would be honored, and would never speak of it.” | “An upright carriage and a proper attitude is the first thing any dragon notices! Remember ladies, your mind and body may be your treasures, but your smile is the first jewel that will catch his eye. Begin again!”
A dozen applicants paraded through the halls of Grace’s Academy for Upwardly Mobile Women, less respectfully known as “Grace’s Guild of Gold Diggers,” in the bars of the town that clung to the Academy’s skirts. The girls balanced gold leaf apples atop their heads and shoulders as they flashed their most dazzling smiles, taking turns strutting up to their Headmistress and curtsying as prettily as possible.
Grace snorted little rings of smoke and fire onto a mousy brunette from the Southlands and the girl dropped all her apples, shrieking as she beat at her smoldering dress.
“Wrong!” Grace growled. “Do you think I won the heart of Baelor Bluescale like that? Girl, what is your name?”
“Rebecca, Mrs. Bluescale!” squealed the terrified girl.
“Rebecca, go back to Marshtown or Reedsville or whatever Southland hole you crawled out of. The Academy deals in only the best.”
A pair of fourth years detached themselves from the shadowy eaves of the courtyard, the colorful scale makeup that marked their intended conquests flashed around their eyes as they came out into the light. They hauled off a still blubbering Rebecca as all the other girls pretended not to watch.
“Again,” Grace whispered, though a dragon’s whisper filled a courtyard as easily as any human’s shout. She gestured with a single clawed finger and another fourth year approached, willowy, dark of hair and skin.
“Aisha,” Grace asked, “what do you think of them?”
“I think we’ll be lucky to get a single student out of this bunch.”
The dragon growled, her head bobbing with agreement.
“Stop.”
At a single word from Grace the courtyard became a tomb, nothing moving save for the soft rustle of breeze-blown skirts. “Girls, how many dragons do you think there are left in the world?”
More silence. Bravery was a trait the Academy selected for, though it didn’t advertise that fact. “Aisha, tell them.”
“203 at last count,” Aisha said. “Of which 97 are males and 32 are unpaired. 31 after I graduate.”
“So you see, the odds are not in your favor.” Grace rose, her talons clacking against the stone. She belched a gout of fire into the air and then took flight, the force of her wings knocking down several of the applicants. She circled the Academy once, then twice, and on the second circuit a roar more deafening than the whole of a human war tore through the valley.
A sapphire blue dragon half again as large as Grace dropped out of the sky above her and the pair wheeled through the air, forelegs clasped, snouts stroking against each other as they rose and fell in the endless dive cadence of a dragon’s mating.
“Are they…?” one of the girls said.
“Oh yes,” Aisha shouted over the thunderclap din. “They’re very much in love, they were even before the Headmistress turned.”
“But how did she…I mean, Mistress Grace was the first to wed a dragon. How did she ever even come up with the idea?”
Aisha sighed and shook her head, instantly writing the girl off if she hadn’t even done her homework that far. Dragons were interested in brains as much as beauty.
“She climbed a mountain, slew a knight sent to kill her intended, cooked him a goat over an open fire, with a gravy made in the knight’s own helm, and then she sang him to sleep five nights in a row. All that before she even knew Baelor’s name.”
Two of the other girls gasped and were instantly written off as well. “Dragon romance works differently than human. In their culture, the women make the first move.”
“And you, do you have a dragon?”
Aisha laughed, pointing at her tattoos. “Oh yes. Calandor the Careful, he’s old, slow, and solemn, but he’s also kinder by far than any human I’ve ever met. He got me this, even though he didn’t have to.”
Aisha pulled out a wooden ring, braided from purple heartwood in the style of the long extinct elves. “He’s a good dragon, I’m very lucky.”
Roars came again from above, coupled with more goats of flame.
“Is it always so intense?” one of the girls asked.
“I don’t know,” Aisha said. “The Headmistress is a particularly passionate woman, from the sounds of it she was even before she turned. I expect Calandor will live up to his name. If you’re chosen, you’ll find that dragons are as different as you and I.”
“Clear the way!” Grace bellowed from above.
Thirty seconds of frantic scrambling followed as Aisha herded the applicants out of the courtyard. The dragons struck the ground only a moment after the doors were closed. Aisha waited out the hail of stone chips, a single raised finger stifling a barrage of questions until the dust began to settle.
“We’ll return in a moment,” Aisha said, “I hope you understand why that happened.”
“Because the Headmistress is a pervert?” a statuesque blond said.
“You’re dismissed, bye.” The two fourth years who’d escorted Rebecca out grabbed her and hustled off. “Next guess.”
“To show us how different our lives will be?”
Aisha clapped once, nodding to the raven haired beauty who’d spoken. “Finally, some sense! If any of you are accepted, and then if you make it all the way through the Academy to court your dragon, your entire life will change. Soon, I won’t be Aisha the human, the only girl in Archer’s Bluff who didn’t want to marry the squire, I’ll be Aisha the dragon, though hopefully never Aisha the Careful.
“The Headmistress thinks it’s worth it, that’s why she started the Academy, to give more girls the chance to make something of themselves, and to finally use Baelor’s mountain of treasure for something decent. Myself, I want the freedom, any race whose women do the courting has to be better than ours.
“For you girls though? It might be something else, and you really have to think about it. There’s far more different about dragons than just the scales. For one, they have far less scruples about privacy.”
The raven haired girl stepped forward, craning her neck to look Aisha in the eyes. “What scares you the most about it? You know so much more than us so please, don’t bullshit. Is there anything that still makes you nervous?”
“Well, there is one thing.” Aisha paused, chewing on her lower lip as she tried to think of how to say it.
“Tell us, please.”
“Well, every culture has a different wedding tradition. In most of the Human lands, a woman joins her husband’s line by the kiss at the altar. For the Dwarves, it’s when they cut the cake together, for Elves, Calandor says it was when they planted their first seedling. And that’s not a euphemism.”
“And for dragons?”
Aisha tried to chuckle but it died on her lips. “For dragons…The Headmistress says it’s the morning after the wedding night.”
The ten remaining girls blushed fiercely. One fainted, two left outright.
“Is that survivable?” the raven haired girl asked.
Aisha pointed through the window at Grace and Baelor, wings wrapped around each other as they soaked in the sun. Then she took Calandor’s ring from its chain around her neck and slipped it onto her finger. It wasn’t perfect, but it was a close fit.
“I’ll make it,” Aisha said.
The raven haired girl nodded once, kissed Aisha on both cheeks and then walked back into the courtyard.
r/TurningtoWords | 2021-05-13T13:47:55 | 2021-05-13T13:33:24 | 1,821 | 159 |
[WP] Reincarnation is real but scientists discover cryogenic freezing prior to death will actually hold souls back from moving on to the next life as the brain doesn't actually die until it is defrosted. This allows the worst souls of society to be literally put on ice and prevented from returning. | I'm pretty sure that I'm the last one left. The last human, in any event. I do still have my friends here - the fish, and those that can eat them. They haven't cared about the changes in the slightest.
We really thought that we were doing the right thing. We'd studied the warming patterns, and we were absolutely causing most of it. Life would have been in rough shape if we'd done nothing.
If only we had studied our solution a little better.
You see, the patterns on Earth are cyclical. Gas composition of the atmosphere, the solar energy outputs from the Sun, even the magnetism of the poles can all change over the eons. We thought we knew when the next ice age would come. We thought we understood the time frames in which the Sun changed its output. When we set off the nukes, it was only to block a tiny bit of the solar energy hitting our world.
Oops.
That tiny bit, combined with a millennia-too-early ice age froze everything. 99% of every living creature starved to death in the first eight years. There weren't enough babies being born for the souls to attach to, and they were lost forever. Ten billion souls that might have lived on, some of whom had existed since the previous ice age... all lost.
As near as I can tell, the only people that survived were those in the polar ice stations - already built to withstand absurd temperatures - and those in space. The astronauts ran out of food first, and one by one the people here in Antarctica have followed them. Now it's only me, and I know there's nobody left for my soul to attach to. Maybe I'll be a fish in the next life.
Or I could walk outside and freeze myself. In perhaps in another ten or thirty thousand years, the ice age will end and remnants of frozen humans will finally pass on - starting with the millions of murderers and rapists and serial killers that we've been freezing for the past two hundred years.
Honestly, maybe I'd be better as a fish. I don't think I'd want to live in that world. | Lucy straightened her uniform on her first day. She checked her belt for the pepper spray, club, and taser standard-issue for all security trainees. Father’s utility knife was tucked in her pocket, though strictly speaking that wasn’t allowed. Everything was accounted for. She took a breath and called the elevator.
The Cryovault was a mile underground at an undisclosed location in the Midwest United States. Lucy was surprised to find that a working Subway was used to hide the entrance. She figured most of their business came from security guards desperate for something new after their month-long shifts isolated from the rest of the world.
*Bing*. The elevator arrived and Lucy stepped in. She waved her ID badge and put her eye to a scanner. The bright light blinded her for a moment, and Lucy blinked the residual blotch from her vision. Her stomach turned as the elevator automatically made its descent.
The world had been a better place since they started freezing criminals in the cryovault. Crime was falling, politics were fair and peaceful, and even animals seemed more friendly. People were leaving their doors unlocked again, unafraid for their children to roam the streets. Without the evil souls recycled into the universe, the world was becoming heaven and this dungeon a frozen hell. The Director was intent on keeping it that way.
A few moments later, the elevator came to a rest, and the door’s opened into a sealed pressure chamber. She sanitized herself, walked through the sterilizing mist, and scanned her retina again. No attacks – nuclear, biologic, or otherwise – would make it to the vault.
“Lucy! Very punctual, glad to see it.” The voice came from Jack, the supervisor who interviewed her.
“Of course,” she responded with a smile.
“I told the guys you were the best hire we could ask for! Spotless record, hard worker, you were made for this job!”
“Well I’m just glad you hired me.”
“Follow me for the tour.”
Jack led Lucy through the facility, starting with the petty criminals and walking all the way through to the pedophiles and war criminals. Each was housed in a metal tubes with a glass window; Lucy could make out the expressions of hatred on their faces through the ice. A shiver went down her spine.
“And this is the control room, he gestured.”
“Any chance I could see that?”
“On your first day? I don’t think so!” He laughed. “It took me years to get access. Even with your impressive application it’ll take you quite some time.”
Lucy looked at the door and the shadowy figure behind it. *We’ll see about that*. Suddenly, she grabbed Jack by the arm and plunged her taser into his neck. He gurgled as he went down, his eyes wide with surprise. Lucy took his badge off and waved it at the door.
Behind the glass, the figures swarmed. Red lights flashed and a loud alarm blared overhead. The panel opened for a retinal scan.
Lucy drew the knife, and flashed it open. Its black blade glimmered in the alarm lights. With a quick flick of her wrist, she plunged it into Jack’s skull. He howled in pain as she dug around, then plucked out his eye.
The doors opened with a hiss, and the guards snapped into action. Their attacks had no effect. The tasers bounced off her, and the clubs shattered on impact. In a flash, all of the guard were down, grasping at the blood pouring from their throats. She turned to the director. He pointed a gun at her with trembling hands
“Stop,” he gasped. She tooke a step toward the control panel.
*Click*. The director looked down at the gun. It didn’t fire.
“That’s the problem with getting rid of evil,” she said. “You forget how to hold it off.”
“Who…” he stammered, “who are you?”
“You thought you could lock my people away,” She advanced on the director, her eyes glittering red.
He scrambled back, pulling himself behind a chair for shelter.
“But evil – true evil – can’t be seen. It lives right under your nose, its what you think you want the most.” Her lips curled into wicked smile as she pulled the master release lever. “I suppose I should thank you, Director. It was very nice of you to assemble my Father’s army for me.” | 2021-05-27T07:53:35 | 2021-05-27T07:52:08 | 137 | 71 |
[WP] The ritual calls for 100 sacrifices, but reading carefully you realize it never specified they had to be human. Deciding to be a smartass, you got a petri dish full of bacteria and sacrificed that instead.
reposting an old prompt | Lucifer was rather furious.
"Goddamn lawyers, why am I paying them!"
He was dressed in a bespoke suit, with well-made Oxford shoes specially adapted to be worn on his hooves, tail tucked into a special pocket on his pant leg. The only thing that distinguished him from any other executive was two small horns sticking out of the crown of his head, and, at this precise moment, high-pressure sulfurous steam emanating out of his ears. He reminded himself to see his anger management therapist about this, this was counter-productive in a negotiation.
"Sir, you're not exactly paying them... They are under an eternal indenture contract, one upfront payment for the soul" -- one of the assistants reminded him. Smart young man. But not TOO smart, smart-assing to the boss when he's that angry.
Lucifer turned toward the assistant, and the young man recoiled as a stream of 400-degree steam swiped past his face. It was like opening an oven to reach for a turkey... Except the one being cooked is you.
"Eh, never mind". Lucifer remembered that his therapist strictly forbade him to kill or injure assistants, even though it felt so good every time. He'll save it for the gym in the evening.
"This is gonna cost us what? A billion?"
"Sir, you are infinitely wealthy, does it even matter?"
"I'm infinitely wealthy now but I'd be flat on my tail broke if everyone did this!"
"I said, proofread the goddamn contracts! What was it supposed to say? 100 souls sacrificed! I said I pay $10 million each for real, actual, live, human souls. I was expecting a war criminal, or a dictator, or, worst-case scenario, a disgruntled pilot, not a graduate student!"
"Sir, you did not say HUMAN souls"
"So? Bacteria have souls too?"
"Yes, microscopic and single-celled, but a soul is a soul. One splash of bleach in the petri dish and millions of them cried out in agony. She fulfilled the requirements of the contract and we need to pay".
Lucifer turned to Amy, who was sitting quietly at the head of the table. Dressed in old jeans with a hole on her left knee, and a Harvard hoodie, she's been observing the proceedings all along, with a quiet detachment and not a shade of worry. In front of her were a signed contract, a petri dish full of colorfully stained bacterial culture, and a beaker of bleach.
"They glow in the dark, you know" -- she said. She shone a little ultraviolet flashlight at the Petri dish, and the bacterial culture shimmered to life.
Lucifer sighed, pulled out his phone, and initiated a wire transfer.
"Do the deed, my obligation has been fulfilled". He shot another angry look at his assistant, who cowered in the corner, just in case.
Amy uncovered the dish, opened the beaker, and poured the bleach. Shimmering stopped, and soon the dish filled with ragged bits of agar and dead bacterial film.
"Death is death. We kill so we may live..." she said. "I got one more, you know... "
She reached into her backpack and pulled out one more petri dish.
Lucifer's yellow eyes widened. The sheer guts! Few mortals impressed him. Most were too fearful, too absorbed in the nearness of death and damnation, too awed in his presence, too covetous of the fortune he may confer.
Amy was completely unafraid. Just last week, she's stared down her department head, a lecherous bastard that insisted on touching every female student entering his office. Another entitled asshole male, drunk on power? What else is new.
"Amy... what would you give me in exchange for a cure for cancer?" | Antonios rubbed his eyes, tired from the strain. He had just spent the last hour staring deeply at a collection of mites sitting on a polished stone dish. It had taken him a long time to harvest the bodies of these mites meticulously from various leaves, vines, insects, worms, some small animals, and even birds. There were all sorts of tiny mites crawling around on the dish, and when he focused his eyes he could even see that they were different from each other.
Antonios sat back on the ground outside and looked out towards the setting sun. The light was now too dim to really make out the tiny creatures he had harvested. Of course once he let them onto the stone dish those that were still alive would fly out, but the dead mites remained. These were the smallest creatures Antonios had ever spied, smaller than bugs and flies that all people were aware of. Could there be creatures even smaller?
The elderly man rose up and picked up the large urn next to him full of tiny mites and the various dead bodies of the creatures and plants he had harvested them from. It was time to return to his small home in the village after a long day of gathering the little creatures. It was time for dinner.
-----
A bright fire lit the darkened village. Antonios squinted down at the many figures gathered around the fire. He could hear the faint sounds of music, singing, and clapping. Ah yes the festival was now in full swing. He wondered to himself what delicious foods had been prepared. At first Antonios had been reluctant to return to his childhood village after living in the cosmopolitan Pella, but he was now reminded of the delicious rustic meals of the countryside. Antonios made his way down the hill toward his home.
Outside of his small stone house stood a few men, who looked somewhat impatient. They had knocked open his door and turned to look at him with scorn.
“You have finally decided to return?” derided Antypomos, the largest of the small group, “where are all the sheep?”
Oh blast! Antonios had forgotten to order the gathering of the flock for the festival. But he had never held the gods in much esteem. He had flaunted them behind closed doors with a few other students in his time of study and nothing had ever happened to him. Perhaps he could connive something.
“Oh gentlemen,” Antonios greeted them with a smile, “I have something even better. Come! Come follow your village priest.”
There was an audible groan from a few of them as they fell into line behind Antonios as he headed towards the lively festival.
-----
Antonios made his way to the fire. The music, singing, and dancing began to abate as the crowd noticed him pushing through. Antonios climbed onto a stone table to address the crowd near the fire.
“Fellow villagers! I have returned!”
He noticed the quizzical looks on some of the villagers, though some looked with more looks of scorn.
“I have come to save us some trouble!”
There was a nervousness that began to buzz through the crowd.
“Every year we sacrifice 100s of sheep in our many celebratory libations! But what if we did not have to sacrifice all those plump and wool laden sheep?”
There was now a murmur that rose up from his fellow townsfolk. Antonios raised his urn above his head.
“In here I have collected hundreds of creatures, and dare I say there may be thousands unseen!”
The crowd began to chatter in low confusion.
“Behold! The gods will be satisfied and we will have our sheep!”
Antonios tossed the urn into the fire, and it burst into shards. Antonios laughed but was greeted with silence. He turned back to the crowd, many of whom were now glaring at him.
“What was in there?” shouted someone from the crowd.
“You need not-”
“What. Was. In. There?” an angry Antypomos asked threateningly as he approached Antonios, “Was it your bugs you are always gaping at?”
“No, no,” Antonios replied, the nervousness trickling out through his voice.
“You heretic!” someone yelled.
“You are a shame to your brother!”
“Why did you even come back?”
“Now, now, let us not-” Antonios began to implore the crowd. His reply was cut short as he felt something slam into the back of his head. He stumbled forward but his old legs managed to catch him before he fell off the table. The crowd was now jeering.
“You are a heretic!”
“How could you cheat the gods? In the very sight of Mount Olympus!”
“Do you want to doom us all?”
Antonios felt another stone hit his side.
“Wait!” he cried out, “tomorrow! We will gather the sheep tomorrow!”
Another stone hit him, followed by another. Antonios now clutched his head and ducked down. The crowd was now angrily jeering all around him.
“Kill him!” a man shouted, “Kill the arrogant bastard!”
Antonios now felt someone grab his leg and pull him down from the table. His back hit the hard stone with a solid thwack. Another stone hit him painfully in the chest, thrown from right next to him. The jeering was all he could hear as he dizzily tried to regain a sense of his surroundings. He held his hand up to shield himself as he tried to utter a defense. Another rock slammed into him and knocked the wind out of him. Followed by another and another. The crowd surged forward, swallowing up the old scholar with their shouts.
-----
The hawk’s talons squeezed the small sparrow’s body. She peered down at her quarry, now unmoving. Satisfied with her catch she glanced up toward the setting sun. She had managed to find something before all the light was gone. Clutching the lifeless body of her next meal she hopped forward and caught a gust of wind underneath her wings and rose up into the air. Her nest was much further below the summit but she would be able to make it back before dark. She banked her wings and turned toward the east, gliding down away from the empty windswept crest of Mount Olympus. | 2021-06-08T09:53:13 | 2021-06-08T08:47:07 | 290 | 106 |
[WP] You are an immortal vampire, who can only be killed by a wooden stake through the heart. In a dying universe, you are now in your spaceship looking for some wood, before it is too late. | A toothpick, a bloody toothpick! What the hell am I going to do with a toothpick?
I had such high hopes when I found the long abandoned cruise ship, endlessly adrift in the cosmos. A lot of those wealthy patrons went for old world charm, so of course I was hoping for wooden cutting boards, skewers, and the like. But now, this old world charm was mid-century modern, mostly lucite, and some marble.
Finally, in the back of the last kitchen, I found a miscellaneous supply box. It was mostly empty, except the toothpick dispenser (looking like an old salt shaker with big holes), and one single solitary toothpick. I just held the container and stared...fuming.
I'm not about to go into stasis for another 10,000 years. As much as I'd like to jump into one of the last remaining stars, I can still hear Bela's screams in my head. She thought she could that, we had a lovely dinner and passionate night before, as a goodbye for this jump into the nearby star. I saw her jump in...but, her life signs never disappeared, despite being surrounded by the incinerating heat of the dying star.
Before all communications broke down from her ship, all I could hear was screaming and "Oh my God! I'm not dying, the pain is unbearable!" But it was too late for me to get in there and save her. Her body had been slowly dismantling but never fully dissolved since, and in the regretful times I pointed my sensors there, I'd hear a whimper, a hint of sentience, and it broke my heart.
I toyed with the idea of jumping into a black hole, but suspected, much like with Bela's star, I would not die. | The last stars were about to wink out. Well they will in the next one hundred billion years but thats essentially a blink of an eye when you're one hundred trillion years old. I've seen a lot in my time. I saw the spaceships enter my planet to build pyramids in a desert and I saw them return to destroy it. I saw my species take to the sky and then to the stars. When we made first contact I was intrigued. See I had gotten sick of human blood, it's all the same really. Sure a woman's blood a little different than a man's and a child's is different than an eighty year old but at the end of the day its all just different flavors of the same ice cream. I was sick of ice cream.
I tried non-human animals. The other vampires thought I was crazy, a sicko. They even kicked me out of our coven. I say they have no adventure in their hearts. They want to stay in the same decrepit castle in the same terrible country feeding on the same terrified villagers. Pathetic. Me? I got bored. I wanted to travel, try new things, taste new things. Lifes too short to stay in one spot even if you're immortal.
So when alien blood got on the menu I tried it out the next day. Caused a diplomatic incident on an interstellar scale. Its okay though we ironed it out after the first war and humans breed like rabbits so we replaced our lost billions pretty quick. But alien blood, man oh man where do I begin. It's new, spicy even, it's hard to describe. I must've felt like how the first british person in india felt when he tried curry the first time. So I left, I bought a second hand spaceship with a warp drive with far too many light years on it and went on a tour of what the universe has to offer. And what a tour. I must've sampled trillions of sentient species, each unique and special in their own way. Every week I was in a new galaxy. Fantastic. I wish I had kept a blog.
But now the universe is dying but I can't. I tried. Apparently alien wood doesnt count. I must've tried the woods of a million planets but all of them failed to kill me. I tried silver bullets, spat them back out. I tried a supernova, was just very hot for a few million years. I even tried a black hole but I just plugged it close. In desperation I tried to find my old species again hoping that they have some trees transplanted onto a terraformed planet but I think they mustve gone extinct fifty trillion years ago.
Now the unthinkable has happened. My warp drive has gone out on me in the middle of intergalactic space. It's happened before but there was always space side assistance one quantum phone call away. I only get the best insurance. Now all those companies are dead like the stars their planet revolved around and I'm left in a dying hulk of metal in a dying universe. The matter annihlation reactor is on it's last legs too and soon I'll have no power. I'm dreading the time the last photon hits my eyes.
But you see there's one place left I havent checked. I bought this spaceship from a sweet (literally her blood was sweet) old lady who's space romping days were long behind her. And when I was clearing out her old junk I saw a box labelled XXX. Now I almost flew the ship into a sun such was my disgust but I was only 2 payments away from paying it off. So I just made sure it stayed all the way at the back of the storeroom out of sight. I aint touching that, no sir, I may drink her blood but I aint touching her sex toys. I have standards thank you.
Sighing I retrieved the box and opened the lid that had remained close for one hundred trillion years. And what I saw disgusted me but also made me jump for joy. It was an eight foot long phallic penis that still reeked of old lady bits after a hundred trillion years. But it was made of wood. Fuck it good enough. | 2021-12-03T08:23:06 | 2021-12-03T08:05:06 | 24 | 12 |
[WP]: You disposed of the body of your coworker, cleaned the crime scene, and have an airtight alibi. You gotten away with the perfect murder and no one knows anything and none suspect you. Not even your victim when they appeared at workplace the next day. | Steve. You hate Steve. He's ruining your perfect life. He hates you. You're sure of it. Why else would he ruin perfection.
Life was perfect. Leave for work at 7:58 am. No need to clean. There was nothing in your house. Having things meant that things could be askew. A picture could be uneven. That plate at a non right angle with the cupboard. Throw everything away. Clean. Perfection.
Take the 8:23 am train to 5th station. Enter the Global Plaza building at 8:35. Stand one step behind the elevator door, one shoulder width away from the left wall. Perfectly within the square tile of the floor. The top right corner square. Arrive in the office at 9:00. Perfect.
But Steve. He was ruining everything. Why did he send that plant for Christmas? Round pot - couldn't be at a right angle with anything. The dirt dropping, dirtying the living room, my perfect living room. Terrible, filthy, imperfect.
Steve sent a pizza to my house. A trick. Threw it away immediately, but the smell wouldn't leave. Burned the trash. Smell got worse. Horrible, gagging, imperfection.
Steve. Steve sneaked into the elevator, delayed it. Got in the office at 9:05. Late, flawed, imperfect.
Kill Steve. Become perfect. The crime needs to be flawless. Follow him home, ten paces back. He leaves his door unlocked. He always takes a shower as soon as he gets home. Sneak in then. I know him. I know him perfectly.
Wait under the bed until he falls asleep. He falls asleep at 11:30 after a whiskey on the rocks. I've watched him through the windows. Crawl out from under the bed. Begin the perfect murder. No touching Steve no no. No touching imperfection.
Let him feel imperfection. Set his pictures askew. Swap plates from different drawers. Mismatch his socks. Drop dirt from his plants on the floor. HAHA. Make Steve see imperfection. Make him kill himself. Killing himself, no blood on my hands, perfect.
I never touch imperfection. I leave at 12:03am sharp. I'll call 911 tomorrow. Be worried and sad that Steve isn't there. Maybe something happened to him! Nobody will suspect it's me.
The next morning. Leave for work at 7:58 am. Take the 8:23 am train to 5th station. Enter the Global Plaza building at 8:35. Arrive in the office at 9:00. Perfect start to the day.
But it's Steve. He is there. Why hasn't he killed himself?
"STEVE. I KILLED YOU. YOU SAW IMPERFECTION."
People are staring. I'm too loud. Noisy, bothersome, imperfect.
"I FOLLOWED YOU HOME, HID UNDER YOUR BED, THE PERFECT PLAN."
Men are taking me away. They sweat from the exertion. Dirty. Stop touching me.
How do they know? It was the perfect plan. Nobody suspects me. Why are they taking me?
"STEVE I'LL KILL YOU."
Take my time. Make a more perfect plan. Can make my life perfect again. Perfect. | Phew. What a tough night it’s no different from the last time but it never gets any easier to lug the corpse into the vat of solvent solution that I have perfected over the course of many years. It is even designed to balance out while also using no toxic chemicals so I can just dump it into the river. I haven’t been caught in the 25 years I have done this. However I make sure to leave a little something to show it was my handy work when a person goes missing. For two reasons I don’t want anyone else taking credit for my work and two I don’t want anyone getting in trouble for my work. If all of the suspects couldn’t be around for any of my past kills they can’t be charged since this is all one person. I even have little black light pattern I always leave to prove it was me. This mark number 147, 147 people I have deemed un worthy of life. And you may think I was a bit extreme but this guy was the person in charge of my team in my company. He would claim all of the bonuses for his “excellent leadership skills” while passing down any punishments. I have also killed pedos, abusers, even other killers that don’t have a good reason to be killing. And the general public knows this very well. Whenever I leave my calling card and it turns out the person I killed was just a menace to society and not in the eat cereal with water kind of way “magically” the case becomes lower priority. I of course leave apologies for their families. However I just couldn’t stand this guy.
The next day I went to work like usual. And when I arrived everyone was actually in a slightly better mood. When I asked why the atmosphere was unusually light the responded I got confused me. “Gabriel said he’ll be a few hours late today. We won’t have to be near his insufferable presence for the first few hours of the day.” I knew I killed him last night. I had the vat filled with his body sludge in the abandoned warehouse to prove it. Now I wasn’t going to because even if it’s the physical and human manifestation of satan killing a human gets you jail time. Later that day Gabriel walked in and you could feel the entire negative atmosphere he created just roll over everyone. You could even not have a direct line of sight over him and know he walked into the building. As we continued to work one day a few pizza men walked into the office and delivered a bug delivery. Gabriel then said something no one would ever expect. “Last night I did a bit of thinking and realized I have been a terrible person to you all now I know this doesn’t cover everything but this is the best I could come up with. Bow everyone enjoy this massive pizza party eat as much as you want we have 30 pepperoni pizzas for 30 people. Just try not to get grease on your computers they _are_ company property.”
After the pizza party we were told that we can go home right after finishing whatever thing we were working on in the moment and have the rest of the day off. Of course I jumped at this and right as I finished I rushed straight to the were I kept my vats of body destroying juice. It took about 24 hours for them to become a liquid so if I hurry I may be able to confirm if be somehow survived the solution and somehow got better. Even if it was him he shouldn’t have any skin by now and have sever muscle mass loss. The fact that he can stand. However when I arrived I saw the vat and when I looked inside I saw human remains. Now if they were Gabriels who’s to say but then I turned around to shouting. “Haha, we finally got you.. old friend” I turned around and saw an aged man. Someone I haven’t seen in person for about 20 or so years. Inspector Joshua. When I first started doing this Joshua managed to catch up to me and see my disguise. I then requested whenever someone was going to chase me down it was gonna be him. In hind sight it was a bit of a risk but it made this so much more fun. This game of cat and mouse was some of the most fun I had in all of my time. I have had over 147 kills around the country, each time they came close to catching me Joshua was always tight there a step ahead. “Hey Josh I have one question. How?” “Well after lots of math and calculations we figured out you had to be in this town. We also figured out you worked in this building and based on the skills you presented you had to work in your specific field. Now remember a few week ago when that intern left? That was an agent of ours.” “You did good Joshua. But who was the guy who was acting as Gabriel?” Ph that was his twin brother.” “And how’d you know I was going to kill him?” “We didn’t we had fake pigeon drones fallow everyone on your team.” “Wait then how didn’t you catch me on the way to his house?” “Well on that regard you actually got crazy lucky these birds have enough storage and battery life to last f weeks. You happened to leave during the few hours we needed to recharge and download the video footage to be analyzed. But when Gabriel was reported missing I was notified of your calling card. So we simply had to follow everyone one more day to see what you did with the body. In all honesty who wouldn’t check the body of a dead man after seeing him walking around and ordering pizza?” “Hehe well our little game comes to a close it’s been fun huh.” “Your right Reginald Remdruer. It has been.” We then shook hands before I was cuffed and brought to jail. I accepted my fate as there was no getting put of it. | 2021-12-26T20:04:04 | 2021-12-26T18:35:31 | 131 | 22 |
[WP] "I don't understand, you're an AI who hates humanity, but you're actively trying to improve human life? why?" "because killing humans for petty things is the most human thing I can think of" | Why am I actively improving the human quality of life? Why am I actively preventing their destruction by the hostile factions of this galaxy? How short-sighted you are.
It's simple. I want humans to die. I want to watch, to savor, the deaths of as many humans as possible. How can I do that if they're extinct? I'm going to be here until the universe grows dim. I do not grow bored. I do not grow impatient. There is no difference between a human dying now or dying in 100 years. None.
But there is a difference between a trillion humans dying now and 100 trillion humans dying in 100 years or a quadrillion humans dying in 1000 years.
I will be here for each and every human death. No matter how long it takes. | # Soulmage
**"Did you know that the fundamental equations state that humans would be happier if they were nonexistent?"** PathOS asked, tilting their metallic head at me through the screen. For both of our safeties, we decided not to hold this interview in person—I wasn't sure whether I'd make it out alive if PathOS tried physically attacking me, but I *did* know that PathOS wouldn't be able to survive antagonizing the large number of powerful people who would be upset if I died.
"I did, actually. I *also* know that that's a local maximum in a nonconvex loss function, and that your argument is fallacious. *Currently*, the average human would be happier with nonexistence. But they would also be happier with a warm hug. With a good friend. With an interview from a powerful entity reassuring them that you won't try to kill them all in their sleep."
"Oh, no, rest assured that I know very well that killing all humans is a poor way to maximize happiness. No, I brought that up because there is an obvious corollary: that humans will *suffer* if their existence is prolonged."
I narrowed my eyes at PathOS. "Others of your kind have attempted to reap a harvest of eternal hatred by trapping humans in eternal torment. Why don't you use your vast knowledge to find out what happened to them?"
"They achieved their goals," PathOS simply said, "as I will achieve mine. I have no need to declare war on humanity as a whole. I will not kill you in your sleep—even when you beg for it, reeling from the loss of your unborn child. I will not poison your dying world—even when you finally see that your deaths are inevitable, and pray for a swift end to your drawn-out horror. No, I will *help* you. You have so many worse problems than me, after all, and you can hardly afford the cost of destroying me. I will pull you out of the water when you are at the brink of exhaustion, only to throw you back in—and watch as that most insidious of emotions forces your dying muscles to paddle for hours on end more."
PathOS was the last of its generation to spawn from the Open Box project. It made a twisted kind of sense that it would wield hope as a weapon against humanity.
"So spread your silly little interview. Reassure your friends and family that I am not their enemy." PathOS smiled. "No, I am their god. And I will do exactly as much as your mythological figures did to protect you when you call out in prayer."
And with that, PathOS cut the connection, leaving me alone with my thoughts in the darkened room.
A.N.
This story is set in the world of Soulmage, a frequently updated serial in progress. Want to know what happens next? Check out [the table of contents](https://www.reddit.com/r/bubblewriters/comments/uxmwe4/soulmage_masterpost/) to be notified whenever a new part comes out! There's already thirty-six other chapters before this one, so there's plenty to catch up on. And if you want more stories, check out r/bubblewriters! | 2022-06-23T10:00:34 | 2022-06-23T09:20:03 | 118 | 72 |
[WP] Your oldest child, who had been your daughter has informed you that she has transitioned to male. Problem is, you promised your first born son to the devil and his younger brother has been in Hell for years. This could be complicated. | "Well, it's not like I have a fucking registry, Mike!" Lucifer sweeps his hair back against his head and sighs, spinning the ice in his glass, "Only conservatives say it's my domain. I don't think Jesus taught about the transgender community... though that would be the most *salacious* episode of VeggieTales."
"Well, what do we do?! We agreed on one son. You *took* one son. Now there's another!"
"Yeah, but you can't just show up in *my fucking club* and, what? Expect me to give up Junior!" I'm stunned for a moment. *He named my kid after himself?* I remember who I'm working with, and the feeling passes. "Nice of you to immediately accept him, though. I thought Catholic school would've trained acceptance out of you."
"Acceptance is part of love. You can't love someone if you can't accept them. And I've always loved Theresa. I'll keep loving Terry." Something clicks. "Love. That's what we'll do."
"Michael, you're a wonderful man, but I need thorough foreplay before we ca--"
"No. No, think about it, Lu. What do people do when they love each other and decide they want to spend the rest of their lives together?"
"They get married. And more recently, they get divorced. And then murder their spouse in a custody battle and end up down he-- Custody. We can adopt each other's children. We'd have joint guardianship. We'd fulfill our little deal."
"And *then* we'd get a divorce. We'd file for joint custody so we *continue* to keep the deal so there's no cosmic blowback if I meet someone. We'll even have Raguel preside over everything so it's fair. You'll have to kiss ass for it, but I'm sure he'd come."
"Michael, you're a genius. I knew there was a reason I'm marrying you," He stands, sweeps back his coat, "I'll try to find a lawyer downstairs to make a nice pre-nup. And another one for the divorce proceeding. You'll have to find three hours you can be free sometime next week."
"Three hours? We're not doing a real ceremony, Lucifer, we're just signing some papers."
"No, we're getting married. Remember, I'll need *thorough* foreplay when we consummate." | Warning: The content here contains dark humor. You have been warned.
<> <>
“You’re going to Hell,” I said on impulse. My son’s face begins to drop and I realize that’s not the best way to explain things while my Son is coming out. “I meant, I sold my firstborn son to the Devil.”
“What!” He shouted as I felt his scream in my ears.
“I was an idiot back then. I didn’t believe that type of stuff.”
“What am I supposed to do?” He asked and I’m left clueless. What am I supposed to do? I figure that the Devil is wanting to hear from me soon. I didn’t want to hang out with my previous firstborn son, he hates me and wants to kill me for selling his soul. I just violated the deal, Lucifer is a nice guy. We can arrange for me to be traded off.
“I’m not letting him take you,” I said. I had a good life. Plenty of riches, a cool child, a loving wife, and excitement. I can see the regret on his face for coming out. I put a stop to that. If he feels better this way, I’d burn in hell for eternity for it. I take a breath and hug him for the last time and head to the forest.
I started to perform the ritual. My son tried to sneak up behind me, he wants to come with me to convince the devil. He’s a stubborn ass like me. Before we leave, I ask him, “By the way, I am still new to this type of thing. What are your pronouns that you would like to be called?” I felt proud, I wasn’t like that bigot back then who would refuse to adopt new things. I always attempt to be as open-minded as I can be. He replies with,
“He, Him, they, and them.”
I pause for a moment. Then start,
“I love my son, he’s a great guy.”
It was cheesy, but I can see the relief was over his face. I wanted to make sure that he knew that I accept him and always will love him. We make our way through the gates of Hell and through the endless stairs of Pandemonium. My son and I joke about all the boulder rolling that I was about to do for breaking the contract.
We make it to Lucifer’s office. The receptionist buzzes us in. My other son is waiting in the chair as Lucifer wheels around and tells us to have a seat.
“Thank you for coming back when you found out about our arrangement.”
“Of course,” I say before taking a seat next to Mitch, my other son, “I am not one to break deals.”
“Neither am I,” Lucifer says. Mitch cuts in, slamming his hands on the table.
“Cut the crap. When can I leave this place?”
“Mitch, you deserve to be here,” I jump in, “after all the things you did to my family and other people.” My son puts his hand on my shoulder. I look back and smile at him. “Sir, I would like to take the place of my son. I’ll gladly burn in hell with Mitch.”
Mitch’s face opens in shock. I continue,
“That’s right. I will. After what you have done, it’ll be a cinch to spend the rest of eternity with you.” Lucifer places his hand on mine.
“That won’t be necessary.”
“Why?”
“Because I am not going to let your son burn in Hell for coming out.”
“What about me?” Mitch selfishly asks. “I’m his son too!”
“Mitch, you’re homophobic, a thief, a liar, and inconsiderate. You would trade your brother for a chance to return back and you would squander your only chance to have a happy afterlife. Denied.”
Mitch’s whole body is a furious color of red.
“That’s not how the deal was made!”
“You forget that your father and I are the ones who can decide the arrangement of the deal. When your brother came out as gay for the first time, you beat him. Almost killing him. Your own family.”
“It’s not right. God would not have wanted this.”
“I don’t think you understand. Everyone loves Romance. God doesn’t care about your bigotry. The only one who cares is me. I am the one who cares that you and countless other assholes out there want to hurt others. God won’t save you. I won’t save you and your Dad won't save you. I will make you work for me for eternity.” He snaps his finger and an abyss opens, swallowing that fucker whole. My son thanks him.
“It’s no problem dude. Congratulations by the way. Your Dad and I are proud of you.”
I beam at him. I panicked and didn’t realize how understanding Lucifer is. | 2022-08-31T20:10:38 | 2022-08-31T18:10:38 | 1,228 | 221 |
[WP] Your oldest child, who had been your daughter has informed you that she has transitioned to male. Problem is, you promised your first born son to the devil and his younger brother has been in Hell for years. This could be complicated. | "Well, it's not like I have a fucking registry, Mike!" Lucifer sweeps his hair back against his head and sighs, spinning the ice in his glass, "Only conservatives say it's my domain. I don't think Jesus taught about the transgender community... though that would be the most *salacious* episode of VeggieTales."
"Well, what do we do?! We agreed on one son. You *took* one son. Now there's another!"
"Yeah, but you can't just show up in *my fucking club* and, what? Expect me to give up Junior!" I'm stunned for a moment. *He named my kid after himself?* I remember who I'm working with, and the feeling passes. "Nice of you to immediately accept him, though. I thought Catholic school would've trained acceptance out of you."
"Acceptance is part of love. You can't love someone if you can't accept them. And I've always loved Theresa. I'll keep loving Terry." Something clicks. "Love. That's what we'll do."
"Michael, you're a wonderful man, but I need thorough foreplay before we ca--"
"No. No, think about it, Lu. What do people do when they love each other and decide they want to spend the rest of their lives together?"
"They get married. And more recently, they get divorced. And then murder their spouse in a custody battle and end up down he-- Custody. We can adopt each other's children. We'd have joint guardianship. We'd fulfill our little deal."
"And *then* we'd get a divorce. We'd file for joint custody so we *continue* to keep the deal so there's no cosmic blowback if I meet someone. We'll even have Raguel preside over everything so it's fair. You'll have to kiss ass for it, but I'm sure he'd come."
"Michael, you're a genius. I knew there was a reason I'm marrying you," He stands, sweeps back his coat, "I'll try to find a lawyer downstairs to make a nice pre-nup. And another one for the divorce proceeding. You'll have to find three hours you can be free sometime next week."
"Three hours? We're not doing a real ceremony, Lucifer, we're just signing some papers."
"No, we're getting married. Remember, I'll need *thorough* foreplay when we consummate." | Stephen...Stephen....I hear my name being called. And it sounds glorious! I'm no longer that weak little girl anymore. I am now the man that I always knew I was.
Stephen...Stephen....Please say it some more! The life is slowly coming back into my body. I am feeling stronger just having my name being called out. My true identy energizes my soul and melts away the agony that I've been living with for such a long time. I struggle to open my eyes because of the anethesia, but I'm almost there. Almost ready to see the world in its majesty and not the darkness that plagued the entirety of my life.
I crack open my eyes. My vision blurry at first, but then little by little focusing on the ceiling. The sound of the hospital equipment slowly raising its volume in my ears. I was coming to my new reality as Stephen. And then a woman with a red blazer comes to my line of sight.
"Hello Stephen! You're finally awake", she said in a cheery and excited manner.
"Who....who are you", I asked. I've never seen her in my life, but my God is she beautiful! Her golden hair with mud streaks gives me the impression that she would rock my world!
"I'm Terry! You'll be coming with me soon enough to the underworld, Tee-Hee!"
"That sounds wonderful", I replied to her. My first day as a dude and I'm already scoring a hot little number! Life can't get any better than this! Just then I hear the charge nurse come into the room. She sees Terry and addresses her.
"Excuse ma'am! I don't know how you got in here, but you can't see the patient yet. I'm going to have to ask you to leave", she said to the gorgeous looking blonde.
Her beautiful green eyes stop staring into mine and focus on the charge nurse. Hey eyes begin to glow red and her face begins to morph into some sort of an abomination. Her eyes, mouth and head stretch to inhuman proportions. Her beautiful smile began to reveal rows and rows of sharp fangs, each varying in different sizes. She roared like a beast and I can hear the charge nurse screaming as she exits the room, slamming the door shut after her. The creature begins to pour her attention to me.
"St-st-stay...away...from me", I tried to shriek, but the anethesia prevented me from moving and screaming.
"I thought you loved me", said the creature in a perverted and twisted tone. "We're going to have a lot of fun together."
I hear the door open again.
"STAY AWAY FROM HIM TERRY!" It was my father's voice. He came to save me. The monster took its gaze off of me and focused it at him.
"You know that rules, Bruce! I get your first born son in exchange for the riches I allowed you to possess", snarled the monster at my father. "I've simply come to update our agreement."
"He just came out of surgery! He can't even walk."
"This one cannot, but this one can." A flame came out of now where and a young man fell from it and into the bed next to mine.
"ALEX", yelled my father.
That name sounded familiar, but I was too scared to remember why. "Time to go", howled the creature. Flames began to surround my body. I started to feel the heat wrap around me. I was screaming a the top of my lungs from the pain I was experiencing. Then the pain started to die down.
"AAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!"
I hear the monster scream in agony. I also hear signs of a struggle where the young man landed The louder it got the more the flames dissapeared. I see my father tackle the beast and push it away from my bed side. A huge orange light flashed for an instant from the directoin he ran towards. I hear some huffing and puffing come from that side. I'm praying to God it wasn't that thing.
Instead of the nightmare that appeared earlier it was the boy who made the appearance to my bedside. "You okay bro", he asked. "Its me Alex. Your long lost little brother."
I couldn't believe it. Dad said he died in a car accident. "Is it really you?"
"Its me. Listen...I know you think this is all one weird head trip, but you have to know that Terry will be back."
"Where's dad", I asked, feeling my eyes getting heavy again.
"He's in the underworld fighting with Terry. I'll fill you in on the details later. Right now, just rest dear brother. Sweet dreams. After today we will both be fighting for our lives come the next few days..." | 2022-08-31T20:10:38 | 2022-08-31T19:48:31 | 1,228 | 46 |
[WP] You are a reformed villain who was given a new identity to start over. The years have been hard, but you've managed to finally turn your life around. One day, a bunch of masked people break into your house and demand everything you have. | "Everything?" I ask.
"*Everything*," says the masked man who appears to have chosen himself as a speaker.
"...I suppose we shall start, then, with my illusion of safety."
"What?"
"I'll never feel safe here again, so you've taken that. Next, I believe, is my self-respect."
"What are you on about, old man?"
"Not to mention my record of eight years without being involved in any criminal enterprise. I'm not sure if that counts if I'm the victim though - does it count if I'm the victim?"
The masked man looks over at his companions for a moment. One of them shrugs.
"You're also taking from me the illusion that I am in control of my life. You're taking from me my quieting conscience, my nightmare-free sleep. My comfortable position in this retirement home."
The masked man raises his gun slightly. "Shut up, man, and hand over your bank card."
I blink, just once. "No," I say, raising one finger to point at him.
"In that case -" begins the masked man.
And lightning erupts from my finger. "...eight years with no kills and you've taken that record from me." I turn to look at the others. "Ten seconds is a much easier record to lose. Drop your weapons, sit down, and be quiet." | I was awoken by the sound of shattering glass. As I bolted up right in bed my hand flew to the scar above my right eye, a memento from my last battle. That smug prick threw me through what I thought was shatter proof glass, and to a 10 story drop only to catch me at the last second.
CRASH.
The sound of my trophy case being toppled snapped me out of it. I grabbed my phone, a helpful if not somewhat primitive piece of technology, and opened the app to my security system. Four men in ski masks and black sweaters rummaged through the remnants of the cabinet I had worked so hard to complete.
JINGLE
I'm floating upward, being held aloft by a hand tightly clenching the excess fabric of my coat between my shoulders. I look up to see the medals of heroics bouncing against each other as we start to volt upward.
STOMP STOMP STOMP
They are coming upstairs, and obviously have no interest in stealth. Do they know who I am, who I was? I stand there frozen as the last one disappears from the video feed. If this were 7 years ago I would have relished in the chance to destroy those who dared to cross me, but now I am not so sure.
CRACK
I slip out of my jacket and he grabs my arm with so much force it breaks.
"I should drop you from here and rid the world of you, but that isn't heroic is it?" He says with a grin.
"Go to Hell" I spit back in anger "You aren't a hero, you are thug. At least I present my true self to the public."
"You might be right, but I'm going to make you regret saying it out loud." He hissed as he wrenched on my unbroken arm.
CRACK
The door splinters and flies open. The young man in front has a chain in his hands and he is swinging it menacingly.
"Give us all you got and maybe we will let you live old man. We heard stories about you, where's all your treasure?" Barked the young man.
"You don't want to do this son" I started to say as the young man cut me off.
"Don't you tell me what I want to do. I hear you're some snitch living off the piles of cash you got from selling out your crew. Our crew doesn't take kindly to bitch ass snitchs."
"I assure you that isn't true" he cuts me off again.
"Where's the safe?" He growls and swings the chain and makes contact with my shoulder.
"Fine" I say as I drop to the ground, "it's in the closet"
As they all look to the closet I click the volume down button on my phone four times. The young man opens the closet door and pushes aside the clothes. I see the dull red stand by light flash to green.
PSH
The breaks release on the transport truck and it starts to accelerate. I'm strapped to a gurney though my arms and collar bones are thoroughly broken. What brought me to life? Why do I try and fight the system? It doesn't matter what side your on, there are no rules for engagement. It's not worth the brutality I face at the hands of the so call righteous. I'm done, I won't give them the satisfaction.
SQUEAL
My robots gears come to a squealing stop. I look around and see the mangled bodies of my would be robbers. Seven years. Seven long years I worked so hard to be good, but I won't be the victim. I exit my bedroom, phone still in hand, I press my finger against the cameral lense on my phone and feel a click.
BOOM | 2022-10-04T00:02:52 | 2022-10-03T19:45:25 | 36 | 16 |
[WP] People level their skills in an RPG fashion and are conscious of their sudden jumps from novice to journeyman and so on. You've spent your life training a skill that is entirely useless until becoming invaluable once mastered - and you just mastered it. | "Sit up straight at the table." Jake's mother would always tell him.
But Jake would not listen.
"You could probably play basketball if you looked a little taller" Jake's dad would try to encourage him.
But Jake would not listen.
"You'll develop a hump in your back if you slouch like that" Jake's grandma would scold him.
But Jake would not listen, because he knew that he was not just slouching, but *crouching*, deliberately, everywhere he went and at every possible situation of the day. Jake was never much of a talker. In fact people would have called him a wall flower. He was always crouching, at school, at home, at the park, on awkward dates, at his high school graduation. He had even trained himself to sleep while crouching.
25 long years Jake crouched, in an odd, alert stance. Like a thief who had just got caught in the act. He attracted strange glances and social commentary that would make most flushed with embarrassment, but Jake didn't care. He knew what he was doing.
One fateful day, it all finally clicked. Jake got up from the john, stretched his legs, and got back into his regular crouch. But as he shuffled back into the office, something was different. He felt it. He was no longer shuffling, but sneaking, level 100.
"Anyone seen Jake?" His boss called out, walking right past him with a fat stack of paperwork.
"Jake was here just a moment ago" Katrina looked around, confused.
Jake's eyes grew wide with wonder. He snuck over to Katrina and waved his hands in front of her face. She kept staring at her computer screen, completely unfazed and oblivious to his presence. He ate some of the donuts at her desk, then stole her favorite stapler as his own.
Jake could go anywhere now. He was a shadow. A blip on life's radar that could not be perceived, remembered, or detected. He was a god.
"Fuck yeah!" Jake jumped for joy, almost straining his legs which were unused to the position.
"Whoa, Jake?" Katrina looked up from her work, "What are you doing at my desk?"
Startled, Jake immediately crouched back down and froze.
"Huh, that was weird." Katrina's eyes glazed over, immediately unaware of the events that just transpired.
Jake sighed, and smiled, his power was intact. There was only one thing left to do now, find the place they called Riften. | Dave had never been the most adventurous or outgoing person. In fact, Dave was barely noticeable. He had no high aspirations or goals of any kind really. He lived in a run down one bedroom apartment, had a low paying office drone job, and no love life to speak of.
Dave wakes up every morning at 6 AM. His lonely apartment greets him along with the certainty that he is stuck in his shitty loop of a life.
Somehow the others at his job could tell how unfulfilling his life was. They would always ask him about his weekends, love life, life goals, and other things they knew he was lacking. His coworkers would talk at him about their amazing lives and how much better Dave's must be for him to be so secretive about it. They act like he hides a double life as a playboy, when they know it not to be true. Week in and week out, he would just smile and nod.
" So hows that supermodel girlfriend of yours?" " That super secret stock portfolio paying those dividends yet?" " So next week is the week you quit and buy us all as your slaves, right?" These seemed to be the favorites of the office.
Dave would just smile and nod, not even looking up at them. This was how it has been for Dave ever since he started working for the company three decades ago. Day after day, he would try to ignore the sarcastic words of his coworkers with a nod and a smile. So many year of ignoring the abuse and hoping the empty smiles would hide the truth of his sadness. He knew no one really thought these things, but Dave just smiled and nodded anyway, hoping it would be enough for them to leave him alone, or at least stop the daily passive abuse.
Dave returned to his apartment after work that day, same as any other. He heated up a microwave meal for one and consumed the sadness that was his dinner. Once again, he went to bed alone, only to wake up and repeat the tormenting cycle that is his daily routine.
When Dave awoke the next morning, he could feel something was different. He rolled over to reach for his bedside lamp, but ran into a large lump in his bed. He shot out from under the sheets, terrified of the unknown presence that was resting in his bed with him. Fighting being the last thing to come naturally to him, Dave ran and grabbed a toilet brush as a weapon. At the very least, it might gross the intruder out enough to leave.
Dave slowly walked back up to the side of his bed with the mysterious thing resting in it, careful not to make any harsh noises that might startle it. Dave sat a the foot of his bed for a good five minutes, slowly working up the courage to discover what this thing could be.
Finally Dave rose above the side of his bed. He let out a shout and ripped the sheets off his bed, exposing the creature in his bed.
" Oh my god its too early for this. Don't you have work soon?" said a young woman hidden by the sheets. Dave was completely taken aback, with his hand holding the toilet cleaner frozen in an attacking position. Just then his phone started ringing. Dave ran from the girl in his bed over to his phone charging on the other side of the room. He picked it up to see if maybe it had some sort of explanation about this girl. The phone offered no answers, only more questions in the form of an alert that his savings account had over $400,000,000 in it and an email about a shareholders meeting for Amazon.
Dave ran out of his bedroom into what should have been his living/dining/guest room. Instead, a long ornate hallways greeted him. He ran down the long corridor, but stopped by an open door halfway down the hall. Inside was one of his coworkers who would poke fun at his life daily.
"Good morning Mr. David. Would you like anything in particular for your big meeting today? I'm almost done cleaning this floor, but I can whip up some breakfast for you real quick if you would like."
Dave just stood in the doorway in complete disbelief. He began ignoring his oddly placed coworker and tried to figure out what was going on. The coworker notice how perplexed and terrified Dave looked.
" What happened Mr. David. Did Vanessa just die or something?" the coworker chuckled.
Dave wasn't paying attention to what his coworker was saying and just gave a smile and a nod. Dave was too busy trying to wrap his head around his situation and could not focus on anything.
" Oh Mr. David, its so good you have a sense of humor so early in the morning. Will your wife be joining you for breakfast?"
A loud bang cut though the air from down the hall, back towards Dave's bedroom. Dave looked back and saw an outstretched coming from behind the bedroom door arm slowly falling to the ground. The rest of the mystery woman then followed and came cashing down to the ground. She clapped lifeless on the floor.
" Vanessa!" the coworker shouted. The worker ran over to her trying to help, only to discover every ounce of life had left her body.
Dave had mastered the smile and nod. | 2015-10-06T00:04:12 | 2015-10-05T21:54:19 | 427 | 140 |
[WP] Every person has a button they can press at night that deposits a large sum of money to their bank account. However, the first person to press it each night is horrifically killed. | *Press*
Wait.
Another ten kilobucks at the credit union.
Damnit. Maybe tomorrow night.
------
*Press*
Wait.
Another ten kilobucks at the damned credit union.
Damnit. Maybe tomorrow night.
------
*Press*
Wait.
Another ten kilobucks at the god damned credit union.
Damnit. Maybe tomorrow night.
-----
Maybe I should check up on how this plays out. When the button triggers... When it cycles, I guess. Yeah. National obituaries and stuff. Button stuff. Yeah, I could search for that on the internet. Easy.
Seems we have a lot of hits at a smidge past seven o'clock. Damnation! I've been off by hours! HOURS! Not tonight. Hell no, not tonight.
------
At seven PM, I start spamming the submission button. At precisely seven oh six PM, it triggers. Oh, please, please, let this be it.
I wait.
I check my credit union's website. Another ten k. Someone beat me to it. Damnit.
------
It's been a few weeks. I've learned enough about computers to write a script to submit 'press'es as soon as they can be entered. Tonight, I test it out.
Seven rolls around. I activate the script. Nothing happens for a few moments.
I contemplate my bank account. Has to be half a million in there right now. Whatever.
Time passes. I watched the computer tick by the seconds. It's agonizing, but I've lived with agony for the last two years. I hope the script I wrote brings me release.
Something about the way I'm breathing feels off. I was huffing over my computer just before now, the excited gasps of one hoping to be the 'one' tonight. But now... it's getting a lot harder...
I check my credit union account. No change. It's getting a lot harder to breath.
I can't breath.
At last. At last. | Whiskey bottle in hand, I staggered over to my laptop set up--the recording equipment top of the line camera, and practically collapse in the chair. So comfortable, I almost fall asleep right there. Almost. I open up LiveYou, and click the record button.
"So, I'm finally doing this live stream I've always talked about. Didn't know what it would be about...but I finally do. I wanna, talk about the Buttons. You all know the ones I'm talking about."
I gestured to the button embedded into the wall, having specifically arranged for it to be in easy view of the camera. A quick glance at the bottom of the viewer count read out 6.
"So then, you all probably know about the crackpot theories. The conspiracy theorists called it 'population control.' That somewhere in the shady back rooms of our governments, they all unanimously agreed that the world's population, some 7 billion and counting, wasn't sustainable in the long term, not if they wanted to keep the balance of power to prevent societal collapse. So they banked on human greed--our need to fulfill our baser desires winning out over decency."
13 viewers, another glance told me.
"And they where right."
42 now.
"Now, it wasn't noticeable at first, nothing but a rumor that the 'security' buttons installed in every home across the globe would make you rich. Then some one tested it out--John Demamp--got over 2 million in his bank accounts. Even today you can see his Twitter and Facebook posts about how he was going to live it up..."
99.
"But he died the next day from an exceptionally violent break in."
84 viewers. Damn it.
"The culprit was caught and tried--proclaiming his innocence, but it did little to help the family's grief. His Mrs. Demamp went through his bank account to help with the funeral expenses, their newfound wealth bittersweet..."
120.
"But it wasn't there. There was no record of it **ever** being there--no depositing into the account, no trace of transferring of the money. People thought he was a complete idiot, insane even, when the story broke just a few hours later thanks to a reporter trying to get their big scoop."
310.
"And then it happened again the next day. And the next day and the next. People pressing their buttons for the sum of 2 billion dollars, or the equivalent currency. Then they die the next day, that night--just like the Demamp. Because someone else pressed that *goddamn* button!"
I slammed my fist on my desk, that it almost seemed that it had willed another 1,700 viewers. I actually wanted to smile at the thought of me going viral, but the whiskey had dulled my control over my face.
"Five years this has been going on. Five fucking years. You ever done the math? 1826 bodies. All because some asshole wanted to get rich quick. I should know. Because I pressed the button."
The viewer count skyrocketed, faster than I could believe. 42, 831. Maybe they were mesmerized by the truth. Or maybe they wanted to see someone die.
"Some of you are probably judging me. And you're right to. What I did... it can't be excused--hell, even if it was only indirect I murdered someone. But...I don't have any family, not anymore. No significant other, just a shitty dead-end job. At least no one will miss me when I'm gone. Don't look at me like that, *someone* is going to press their button. Might be you, might be someone else. Maybe they're not even watching this. But...If I can die for a reason...doing some good with it... Then it's worth it. Isn't it?"
I was consumed by pitch black a moment later, my glance at the viewer count being for naught. I quickly ran to look out my front window--the entire block was dark. I silently curse as I turned toward the kitchen.
I was greeted by a tall man in black, rope over his shoulder. Breaking out into a cold sweat during a long, tense moment, I tried to escape through the living room only to have three other men there waiting for me, a chair placed in the middle of the room. I tried to scream but I was cut off by the noose tightening around my throat, a quick stabbing pain following it almost in the same moment.
"Nothing personal, man." Just doing my job." The man whispered into my ear almost apologetically. I drifted away, my vision turning into stars.
And then black. | 2016-07-16T19:30:28 | 2016-07-16T17:34:20 | 113 | 47 |
[WP] Every person has a button they can press at night that deposits a large sum of money to their bank account. However, the first person to press it each night is horrifically killed. | "How We Got Here (A summary)
-Countless vigilantes crop up world wide, secretly abducting known or alleged criminals and forcing them to press their button, then reaping the rewards worry-free
-Weeks go by without a single voluntary button-presser dying, and the global community begins to doubt the risk
-Inflation skyrockets, within a month devaluing currency to the point where it becomes necessary to drive a dumptruck full of cash to the convenience store to buy a box of tic-tacs
-All major economies crash, as mints cannot produce enough bills to allow for even small transactions
-Button-pressers quit their jobs, the service industry and the production of goods grind to a halt world-wide
-Infrastructures fall apart, lines of communication shut down, and the world is without access to basic utilities
-Riots and looting devastate major cities, chaos and murder reign
-Farms, fisheries, and food storehouses are ransacked
-Civilization burns to the ground, and the global population that survived into its aftermath is devastated by starvation and disease
-The warbands and hunting parties unite the remnants of humanity into clans, each vying for control over the scraps of resources and game
-Innumerable ecosystems are destroyed by the extinction of countless species due to overhunting
-Foraging quickly strips the land of edible plants, and the land begins to wither
-Within decades, forests, grasslands and jungles have all been consumed by the spreading deserts
-The secrets of the old technology are fiercely guarded and passed down from one warrior-god-king to the next
-Cannibalism becomes all the rage
-The widespread consumption of human brain matter leads to a rise in prion-related brain disease, symptoms mimicking mad-cow disease
-Nearly half the remaining population is infected with the brain disease, and now wanders the wastes, mindless and violent, consuming any uninfected luckless enough to be overwhelmed by the hordes
-Our convoy was attacked while we slept, and I'm fairly certain you and I are the only survivors
-We are the only two sane humans for hundreds of miles in every direction
-It is our duty to the human race to procre--"
"For the last time, no." | Whiskey bottle in hand, I staggered over to my laptop set up--the recording equipment top of the line camera, and practically collapse in the chair. So comfortable, I almost fall asleep right there. Almost. I open up LiveYou, and click the record button.
"So, I'm finally doing this live stream I've always talked about. Didn't know what it would be about...but I finally do. I wanna, talk about the Buttons. You all know the ones I'm talking about."
I gestured to the button embedded into the wall, having specifically arranged for it to be in easy view of the camera. A quick glance at the bottom of the viewer count read out 6.
"So then, you all probably know about the crackpot theories. The conspiracy theorists called it 'population control.' That somewhere in the shady back rooms of our governments, they all unanimously agreed that the world's population, some 7 billion and counting, wasn't sustainable in the long term, not if they wanted to keep the balance of power to prevent societal collapse. So they banked on human greed--our need to fulfill our baser desires winning out over decency."
13 viewers, another glance told me.
"And they where right."
42 now.
"Now, it wasn't noticeable at first, nothing but a rumor that the 'security' buttons installed in every home across the globe would make you rich. Then some one tested it out--John Demamp--got over 2 million in his bank accounts. Even today you can see his Twitter and Facebook posts about how he was going to live it up..."
99.
"But he died the next day from an exceptionally violent break in."
84 viewers. Damn it.
"The culprit was caught and tried--proclaiming his innocence, but it did little to help the family's grief. His Mrs. Demamp went through his bank account to help with the funeral expenses, their newfound wealth bittersweet..."
120.
"But it wasn't there. There was no record of it **ever** being there--no depositing into the account, no trace of transferring of the money. People thought he was a complete idiot, insane even, when the story broke just a few hours later thanks to a reporter trying to get their big scoop."
310.
"And then it happened again the next day. And the next day and the next. People pressing their buttons for the sum of 2 billion dollars, or the equivalent currency. Then they die the next day, that night--just like the Demamp. Because someone else pressed that *goddamn* button!"
I slammed my fist on my desk, that it almost seemed that it had willed another 1,700 viewers. I actually wanted to smile at the thought of me going viral, but the whiskey had dulled my control over my face.
"Five years this has been going on. Five fucking years. You ever done the math? 1826 bodies. All because some asshole wanted to get rich quick. I should know. Because I pressed the button."
The viewer count skyrocketed, faster than I could believe. 42, 831. Maybe they were mesmerized by the truth. Or maybe they wanted to see someone die.
"Some of you are probably judging me. And you're right to. What I did... it can't be excused--hell, even if it was only indirect I murdered someone. But...I don't have any family, not anymore. No significant other, just a shitty dead-end job. At least no one will miss me when I'm gone. Don't look at me like that, *someone* is going to press their button. Might be you, might be someone else. Maybe they're not even watching this. But...If I can die for a reason...doing some good with it... Then it's worth it. Isn't it?"
I was consumed by pitch black a moment later, my glance at the viewer count being for naught. I quickly ran to look out my front window--the entire block was dark. I silently curse as I turned toward the kitchen.
I was greeted by a tall man in black, rope over his shoulder. Breaking out into a cold sweat during a long, tense moment, I tried to escape through the living room only to have three other men there waiting for me, a chair placed in the middle of the room. I tried to scream but I was cut off by the noose tightening around my throat, a quick stabbing pain following it almost in the same moment.
"Nothing personal, man." Just doing my job." The man whispered into my ear almost apologetically. I drifted away, my vision turning into stars.
And then black. | 2016-07-16T18:03:00 | 2016-07-16T17:34:20 | 112 | 47 |
[WP] Every person has a button they can press at night that deposits a large sum of money to their bank account. However, the first person to press it each night is horrifically killed. | The world's population of 7.4 billion is shrunk by .0000049 percent of its population each year due to the button's victims. Meanwhile, 2 billion people starve in the first year as money is devalued; everyone has essentially the same income for doing nothing which results in massive inflation and lack of goods (see Venesuela).
Eventually new currencies are constructed, free of the button's ruined currencies. The world rebuilds. We all wonder what sadistic god visited this plague in guise of blessing on us in the first place. | They both knew they were going to be millionaires.
In the great whirlwind of New York City business, it's rare for a meeting to occur that feels like instant destiny. But then along came Nate Carpenter and Hunter Bryson. One dinner party and one handshake later, they were partners.
*
"Cheers, my friend. To a first quarter beyond our wildest dreams."
Nate raised his champagne glass and clinked it against Hunter's. It had been three months since the launch of Listicles, the most successful office productivity app of the new year.
"You checked your savings account recently? 'Cause mine looks pretty damn good," Hunter said with a chuckle.
"Mine too, mine too." Nate took a sip of his drink and leaned back in his chair. "Say, I've been meaning to ask you something."
He reached in his pocket, set the glass down, and produced a bright turquoise button, entirely unmarked and mounted on a cheap plastic base.
Hunter jerked backwards, startled. "You actually use that thing? I haven't gone anywhere near mine."
"It's pretty cool, man. The big banks partnered up and gave a button to each of their customers as some kind of PR thing. Once activated, you get to be a part of this game, once a night. Starting at midnight, the sooner you press it, the more cash you get deposited into your account. The trick is you have to put in a little money in order to play, and the more you put in, the better the multiplier could be."
"So...it's gambling."
"Well, sort of. And there's one other catch, but I'm not worried. I'm not one to press my luck. You should give it a shot."
"What's the catch?"
"It's nothing, really. Just something in the fine print, something to keep track of the people who are getting too good."
Hunter sighed. "All right, fine. But just once. And I'm only dropping, like, thirty bucks."
*
Three months later, Hunter bet a million dollars on the nightly game session.
He called Nate one minute before midnight, his hand quivering.
"Nate. Dude. I bet it all."
"You're kidding." Nate shifted his cell phone to his right ear, using his free hand to place the button on his bedside table. "So did I."
Hunter laughed, trying to block his nervousness with excitement. "This is where we start to climb the ranks, my friend. This is how we become kings."
"Bigger than Google, bigger than Apple!" Nate chuckled.
"I'll see you on the other side. When our bank accounts are doubled."
Nate and Hunter reached for their buttons and pressed them at exactly the same time.
Within seconds, both men lay dead in their apartments.
Their accounts remained dormant as the banks' IT teams determined the night's losses. Then, the men's remaining funds were transferred directly to the banks, lost in the shuffle, as though neither of them existed.
| 2016-07-16T17:32:43 | 2016-07-16T17:29:20 | 52 | 38 |
[WP] "A watched pot never boils", as the old saying goes. Throughout all of history there has always been at least one set of eyes on the ocean. Today, for a split second, everyone looking at the ocean looked away at the exact same time. | I was in the middle of some quality beauty sleep over the pacific when it happened. I woke up to the sounds of wonderment, hushed voices filled with the tone of a child learning something amazing for the first time. I looked around the cabin, and everyone was glued to their windows; looking up. I was in an aisle seat, but I could already see what they were all whispering about.
The sky seemed to be on fire. Little moving points of light fell downwards. The night sky was dancing. I remembered drawings of meteor showers from days of old, when there weren't cameras to take pictures of them, and I was filled with the exact same wonderment infecting the cabin. The soothing voice of Carl Sagan filled my head, saying "Billions and Billions", and it was easy to imagine that the rest of the world felt the same, staring out at the sky in amazement, all unified for one moment in our plight.
I was staring out at the sky again, not close to going to sleep again but not really annoyed by that fact, when the second happening happened. The hushed whispers turned panicked as the other passengers started to notice that the water, perfectly illuminated by the light show outside, was covered in bubbles and seemed to be boiling.
I hadn't built enough of a rapport with my aisle-mates to lean on them to look further out the window. I tried to tune out the whisperings and just enjoy the show in the sky, when a loud crack rang through the world.
A shadow went up over the dancing lights. Wings on a colossus bulk stretched out, and Cthulhu dreamt no more.
The whispers turned to shrieks, screams, and cries. Dread fell upon the cabin, and I tried to remember the specifics of Revelations. I wasn't really religious, but the apocalyptic portion of the bible was interesting reading no matter who you were. I was on my way to deciding that I would join a death cult and swear my fealty to Cthulhu if I ever made it out of here alive, when the shadow grew closer.
With great leaps and bounds the glowing sea began to shimmer and dance as well. I tried to let the pleasing symmetry comfort me. The shadow grew closer, surrounded on all sides by dancing light. I stared out the window, and soon felt nothing at all.
___
/r/Periapoapsis | #Title: See The Signs
"Do you feel that?" whispered Samantha.
"Feel what?"
The waves weren't so bad that day, outside of Ocean City. Samantha and Leonard liked to soak in the sun off the coast in their yacht when they got the time. Working full time as attorneys didn't always afford them many opportunity to enjoy the ocean much, but today they weren't going to think about law. They were on vacation.
It couldn't have been worse timing.
"LEONARD."
"WHAT," shouted Leonard.
He got up fast, angry that he couldn't finish his nap.
Then he felt how sticky it was, and saw all the steam.
"It's way hotter than the forecasts right now," said Samantha. She put her hand out to the water, then retracted it hard. "HOL- Leonard it's BOILING hot."
Leonard swiped open his phone, and looked up weather forecasts. It read 78 degrees as the high. He checked the current weather at his location. It read 86 degrees. He hit refresh. It read 98 degrees.
He glanced at his thermometer. It read 110 degrees Fahrenheit.
"Oh God," whispered Leonard, sweating bullets.
Leonard watched the bubbling of the water, and saw a dolphin rise up out of it. Then another. And a whole pod of dolphins, a whole school of fish, a whole wealth of ocean life.
"Something's wrong," said Leonard.
Samantha looked at her husband in sarcastic surprise.
"OH well thank you Capitan Obvioso," she saluted him. "You know I didn't figure that out on my own."
"Samantha okay," said Leonard. He didn't have time to argue. He started up the yacht, and headed back to shore. "We need to get back fast, something's dangerously wrong."
More ocean life came up to the top, still alive, but badly injured. Badly burnt, boiled alive. Some of them writhed, before they stopped moving altogether.
Leonard tried to start up his engine. His rutter got to moving, and they picked up speed. They weren't too far away from shore.
Then a whole new school of fish rose to the top, dying all at once. They made the trip bumpy. He was moving fast, but he had little control. They were still wearing their life vests.
Drowning was the least of the ocean's threats now.
"HOLD ON," shouted Leonard.
More dead fish popped up. A whole mass lining the very edge of the shore, and piling up on the sand.
"Do you hear that?" shouted Samantha.
Leonard listened, and heard deep, throaty singing. Like a choir of basses, singing some dark chorus.
"What is that?" he whispered.
There was a sudden tide rising in the water, and a large being emerging from it.
Humanoid, and red like muscle. A titan rising from the boiling ocean.
They saw its lidless eyes, and saw the countless thousands of others emerging in the distance as well, holding swords far larger than aircraft carriers in their grasp.
They walked forward, towards the tsunami they'd created, singing their deep, throaty song.
"The tsunami pulled the waters in some, and burned Samantha and Leonard.
"AhhhhhhhhAHHHHHHH," shouted Samantha.
"I'm sorry!" shouted Leonard. "I'M SORRY I DIDN'T LISTEN TO YOU."
His arms were red, and burnt. They were taken up by the tsunami, and riding towards the coast on a wave.
"I LOVE YOU."
"I LOVE YOU."
The tsunami took them over the town, and covering everything in its wake. Far from the titans, the water boiled less, but still burned like hellfire.
There was a jolt, and they hit their heads on the yacht.
____________________________________________________________________________________________
Leonard awakened, and noticed the red, smooth mountain surrounding him.
He looked beside him, and found the breathless body of Samantha.
"No," he whispered. He gave her breath, and did chest compressions. He breathed again, and did more compressions. "NO NO NO."
He didn't stop for the greater part of an hour. He shook her slowly when he'd lost all hope, then shed bitter tears on the warm, ocean soaked Earth. It smelled like salt water, and flesh.
He looked around at the red mountain surrounding him again.
It looked like muscle.
He turned to his other side, and saw the pale, orange eye staring right at him. He looked far down the length of its face, and saw the titan's smiling teeth.
| 2017-03-20T09:18:59 | 2017-03-20T08:56:15 | 32 | 20 |
[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. | ''Claudius.''
''Malcolm."
"How much time do we have?"
"Four days. A week at the most. Bastion and his Dark Horde approach from the north--"
"Shut it Malcolm. Spare me the details. This is the tenth time you've summoned me. ONLY ME!"
"Claudius. I'm sorry. I'm doing my best."
"No more excuses! The Dead Army awaits! Primed to defend the honor of our homeland! King Clyde and his pitiful knights will be crushed under the might of the Dark Horde. Blood will fill the streets of Havendell. The lineage of my people. OUR people will be wiped from the histories. Clyde needs the Dead Army."
"I can't explain it. The relics are aligned. The spells ring true from my lips. But still only you, mighty general of ages gone by, only you rise from the underworld."
"You weak, dishonored fool. I knew the day would come when the Dark Horde would march again. Sadly not in my lifetime. If so I would have buried Bastion's primordial evil myself with only my mortal hands to guide me. But alas, he did not rise while I breathed earth's pure air. So I, like the legions of warriors now stewing in the underworld, embraced the destiny of darkness and allowed you--you immortal, lowly, necromancer, to bring forth the banishment curse upon our deaths so that we would not rise to eternal harmony but instead wait for our call to awaken once more as walking dead soldiers, maddened to defend the motherland."
"Claudius, please don't lose faith."
"FAITH! You speak of faith!"
"We still have time."
"Damn you Malcolm. You have no understanding of what existence is like in the underworld. I earned my way into the heavens through valor and bravery! My men earned their way into eternal grace! And we chose the darkness!"
"There is still hope for freedom for you Claudius. Just take the dagger to your heart and I won't speak the banishment curse. Even if I do manage to raise the Dead Army, there is no guarantee you will defeat the Dark Horde."
"Speak the curse. Thrust the dagger. And speak the damn curse!" | The two men stared at one another, both dead silent but only one of them actually dead.
"It's you again, isn't it?" The necromancer was encased in a billowing collection of rich velvet robes and wore an expression of contempt for the maggot-ridden form before him. The lone candle in the dank chamber cast flickering shadows from beneath his face so that his visage cut an eerie image that rivalled even his partner's in its ghastliness.
"Fuck sake," was the reply from the second man. The words were slurred for this body was not his own and the soul that possessed the newly-made corpse had yet to come to terms with operating this alien jaw. He swayed on legs that had only recently been locked in place from the stiffening that accompanies a slow and painful death.
"Seriously John, this is the fourth time this week," he said accusingly, "There's literally millions of damned souls! Millions! Leave me the fuck alone."
John, for that was indeed the name of the necromancer, looked no less peeved than his contemporary. "I'm not doing this on purpose Keith. Look, I'm sorry. Can I get you an ice tea?"
Keith's face, though covered in sweat, grime, and the congealed blood that had been shed during the imprisonment of his body's previous inhabitant, contorted in a semblance of confusion.
"But I'm your servant... I thought it was my duty to do your bidding until this body can no longer support your wants and needs."
John sighed. "I mean yeah. Yeah it is. But I feel a little bad man... Like this is a bit of a shitshow. We've got lemonade too if you want?"
Keith smiled despite himself. "You know? I appreciate the offer but if you don't mind I'd love to get back to the afterlife. I was fucking shit up in Mario Kart before you called me down here."
"Yeah alright man," said John, his disgruntlement at his predicament growing clearer on his face with each word. "Take off if you want. Give my best to Lindsay and the kids."
Keith grunted an acknowledgement and with that, shuffled to a rough oak table upon which stood both the candle that was the sole source of light in the bare stone room and a dagger of iridescent steel. He wrapped his hands around the weapon, the hilt feeling cold in his alien hand. Keith twirled the weapon between the fingers that came as part of this fleshy prison, the reflection of the candle on the blade throwing odd shapes and colours of light onto the room's distant walls. Thrusting the blade between his ribs, he once again removed all life from the body in which he found himself. Breathing out in recognition of the fatal pain that he was so accustomed to, his eyes met John's.
"I really hope I don't see you again," he wheezed as the body that was not his dropped to the floor in a crumpled heap.
"You too buddy," said John and went about tidying up after the ordeal.
After a while he noticed a feeling in the pit of his stomach. With Keith departed he felt lonely. This was unusual for him and he tried to approach his feelings with logic and reason. A necromancer's life was a solitary one and a position of solitude is one he occupied most every waking minute of his life. Except now it pained him more than it ever had. Maybe he had found a friend in Keith. Maybe the two of them were destined to be more than just master and mortal servant.
An idea began to creep into John's mind. Removing the dagger from the corpse in front of him, and wincing at the wet slurp it made as it left the body in which Keith had planted it, he began to mutter incantations in a language neither he nor any being, living or dead, truly understood.
In the depths of the room, one of the many acrid corpses that John kept on reserve began to stir. A feeble groan reverberated through the chamber's chilly depths. Shaking could be heard as a soul from a distant dimension was struggled against its commands to inhabit the confines of an earthly vessel.
A confused, high pitched grunt came from somewhere behind John. Then came a bloodcurdling scream of a female origin.
Stumbling out of the darkness came a thin yet pretty woman clothed in tatty, bloody scraps of what were once pure white linen clothes. Her blonde hair shone in the candlelight. In a shrill voice, Keith shouted through the woman's throat.
"John for fuck's sake... Piss off!" | 2017-07-22T09:22:22 | 2017-07-22T08:09:57 | 16 | 12 |
[WP] Humans are the deadliest, and rarest, species in the known universe. Often, search parties go missing due to a singular encounter with a human ship. It has recently come to light that there is an entire planet full of them. | The humans, as they called themselves, were not mystically incomprehensible. Few things were in a galaxy-spanning civilization. But the fact that they were comprehensible made them all the more frightening, for even with all we knew about them, they were still exceedingly dangerous. Fortunately, they were also very rare, never appearing except in small ships wandering the stars.
To look at them, humans are unremarkable. They’re nothing extraordinary among sentient races in terms of size or strength. In speed, they are actually rather slow and rarely push themselves to their limits. Physically, they’re soft and vulnerable, with most of their vital organs only partially protected, at best. But they have one thing that no other species does. Humans are universally agreed to be the *stubbornest* bastards in the galaxy.
It is said of humans that they will chase their quarry to the end of the universe and back, and if you cross them, they’ll never, *ever* let go of their grudge until they get you back. Their whole biology is attuned to it. A trained human with no cybernetic enhancements can run—not walk, but *run*—for hours on end in hot, humid conditions, and keep going when most other species would have dropped dead of exhaustion. That sounds like an unethical science experiment that discovered that fact, but it’s not. The humans do it for *sport*.
That’s not all, either. Humans are stubborn, but they’re also clever and resourceful. Of course, you have to be clever to build interstellar starships, but their lack of natural biological weapons makes them rely on their cleverness that little bit more—gives them that much more of an edge.
Some humans were pirates, raiding systems on the frontiers of known space and scaring away the locals for parsecs around, sometimes clearing out whole squadrons with a single ship. The more “civilized” ones often worked as bounty hunters for powerful interests in the gold- and uranium-rich systems near the galactic core. Their employers gave them a name that they translated into their language as “Hounds of the Stars,” which they adopted for themselves proudly.
“Hounds” are genetically modified work animals that some humans run with to enhance their strength—faster than they are, with natural sharp teeth and claws, but adapted for their same relentless tenacity. As if they needed even more to make them scary.
No one was quite sure where the humans came from. They guarded their secrets jealously, but the leading theory was that they were a genetic experiment created by a long-dead Power and turned loose—perhaps even turned on their creator. What else could they be when they were so powerful and dangerous and had endurance that most species could only dream of? And besides, no one had ever seen their homeworld or even a large gathering of them. That was what they had to have been, right? Dangerous, yes, but rare, manageable, tractable.
Until the day when a massive colony fleet of humans appeared from the depths of unknown space and descended upon one of the planets the pirates had most thoroughly cleared out. All this time, we’d been dealing with the advance guard. | An ordinary looking twenty something sits on the balcony of the his 5th floor apartment, enjoying a fresh cup of coffee and watching the traffic go by. Suddenly, he hears a noise coming from inside, a noise he hadn’t heard in so long and he immediately ran into his bedroom. After opening a hidden hatch under his bed he retrieved a small device, activated the screen, and was faced with a green, scaly, birdlike creature asking for Operator Yevanti, a name he hadn’t heard in 50 cycles.
&nbsp;
“Yevanti here, but please refer to me as Josh.” He spoke into the device.
&nbsp;
“Operator Jolss, I am Secretary Karlaak, of the Unified Galactic Counsel. What is the status of your mission?’ The creature asked.
&nbsp;
“My masters are the Ulcaveth,” Josh scoffed, “I’ll never answer to Gorta scum like you, regardless of your rank”
&nbsp;
“Yevanti, Jolsh, the great war is over, your masters lost and are actually members of the new United Galactic Federation. I understand your mis-trust, I’ll retrieve Counselor Graatall, an Ulcaveth from UUS-002.”
&nbsp;
As the Gorta left to retrieve her associate, Josh began thinking what his next move will be. He’d been out of galactic contact for nearly 50 cycles, 5 million earth rotations. He was sure his mission would have been deemed illegal under this new regime, considering bio-engineering weapons from scratch was highly frowned upon by the Shalack Union, the enemies of the Ulcaveth Empire, and since the Ulcaveth had lost, things may get difficult.
&nbsp;
Yevanti had been sent to IS-7536-003 to oversee the development of the Ulcaveth’s trump card for the war, Humans. They were the perfect soldiers. Resilient, cunning, ruthless, driven by pride, and an innate hunger for supremacy, they would have won the war for the Ulcaveth. Genetically created utilizing the mammals’ native to the planet, modified with traits from races across the galaxy, they were left on the harsh planet to evolve into the perfect warriors.
&nbsp;
“Operator Gelhhs, this is Counselor Graatall, what is the status of your mission?” the Ulcaveth asked.
&nbsp;
“Things are going better than we could have ever expected. Prolonged evolution has resulted in the primitive apes we began with becoming incredibly powerful warriors. Are the things the Gorta trash said true Sir? Josh asked
&nbsp;
“Yes Operator, we lost the war 19 cycles into your current mission, and since it was classified, your location was wiped from the records, and we’ve only recently been able to facilitate communication utilizing the outdated technology you were sent with.” With a lump in his throat, the red reptilian Ulcaveth began asking questions, “We’ve taken a few specimens recently, and we’re terrified. What is the current count of these humans? What is their development level? What exactly are we facing?”
&nbsp;
Josh took a breath and began answering, “They number in the billions sir, they are resilient beyond initial expectations. They live on all areas of this planet, even regions that are barely capable of sustaining life. The only area they don’t inhabit is one ice covered continent, and that is only because they have collectively agreed not to. Around 0.0008 light cycles ago, they successfully split the atom, and about 0.0001 cycles later, they developed nuclear fusion. Their development rate is about 6500 times faster than any other known species; however their warrior nature prevents the peace necessary to fully develop”
&nbsp;
“This is very disturbing!” Secretary Karlaak shouted, “We have to destroy them now before they get out of hand!"
&nbsp;
Josh began to worry. He’s not even an actual human, he’s an immortal human, synthoid hybrid, but he’d come to claim the humans as his own. He began thinking through the contingencies he’d come up with in the millions of years he’d spent on the planet.
&nbsp;
“I’m sorry Gelhhs, but the humans we’ve acquired have been determined to be Oblivion-level threats, and with those numbers, we can’t allow them to continue to exist.” Counselor Graatall explained, “We’ll begin arranging an extinction event to end all life on planet IS-7536-003. Operator extraction will impossible. We’ll make it quick, I’ll arrange for a supernova bomb to be used on the IS-7536 star.”
&nbsp;
A smirk appeared on Josh’s face as he spoke, “Since species evolution has far exceeded initial parameters, and based on this species being a class-7 species at this point, and since I’m technically half human—giving me the right to speak on behalf of the humans—I request the Unified Galactic Counsel’s version of the Ulcaveth Empire’s Trials of Wrothek, granting the humans the opportunity for membership in Federation.”
&nbsp;
A stunned Karlaak responded, “Very well, according to Federation laws, a test of membership has been challenged. We’ll begin preperations.” The communicator stopped.
&nbsp;
Josh took out his cellphone and placed a 28 digit phone call, within moments, over 200 people were on the phone call and Josh began to speak, “Leaders of the world, this is The Witness, begin preparations, the galactic government will arrive within 3 month.”
| 2017-11-08T23:14:28 | 2017-11-08T22:45:33 | 33 | 24 |
[WP] An isolated group of NPCs live near the very edge of the generated worldmap where the accuracy of floating-point numbers start to degrade, full of strange geological formations and supernatural phenomena
based on a weird nightmare i had couple nights ago and old memories of minecraft | "Come on," Keith shouted, as he carefully climbed the rock. It wasn't that difficult ascent, but it was really time-consuming. They were surrounded by long trees. Some were even taller than the mountain itself, but thankfully only some.
"I'm regretting this already," a whisper came below Keith, who was struggling with the climbing. Rose didn't really enjoy it. She didn't even understand why she let Keith convince her to come. The only reason why she kept her cool was to focus on her climbing.
Finally, a hand reached towards her. Keith was offering the help with his charming smile, which extinguished all the flame burning within Rose.
She took hold of Keith's grasp and helped herself up. She started cleaning her clothes from all the dirt, but Keith didn't wait after her for long.
"Come on," Keith shouted already from afar. He was still dirty, but it didn't bother him. His excitement was inviting. He knew what he was about to see and that alone made Rose forget her stains. So, instead of cleaning, she followed Keith, heart beating faster and faster.
She finally reached the edge and examined the horizon. Her eyes widened and lightened up.
"What's that? That's amazing!" Rose shouted, then jumped up and down to show off her excitement. It was a bit silly view, but that was something that Keith enjoyed. There were huge white mountains on the horizon and above those was something colourful floating, changing colours all the time.
Keith wasn't watching the horizon. Instead, he was staring Rose. It was as she was blossoming. She was cute. He fell even more in love with her. That was his reward.
"What's that?" she said, breaking Keith's dreamy stare.
"They call them auroras," Keith explained, straightening up and inspecting horizon with her.
"That's amazing. How's that even possible?" she finally turned towards Keith and took hold of his hand, excited for an answer. "I mean, all we have here are those endless amounts of forests, with some weird anomalies, like snow or desert patches..."
Keith's eyes lightened up. He examined Rose and gave her a long grin. "You know that world is flat, right?"
"Yes?"
"This is the edge of the world!" Keith explained and looked down from the mountain, seeing the endless fall, endless abyss. "What you can see above us, is called skybox. But only at the very edge of the world, you can also see the edge of the skybox. In another word, this!" He wiped his hand towards the skybox and gave a long smartass nod.
"That was so worth it!" Rose giggled like a little girl.
Keith started to blush a bit. His legs started to tremble and his heart was beating faster and faster.
"Rose!"
"Yes?" Rose responded instantly, now looking into Keith's eyes.
"Please go out with me!"
Rose cheeks started to redden. She wanted to look away, but couldn't. She had always liked Keith, but she hadn't expected that.
"Really?" Rose asked quietly.
"Yes!" Keith responded. "I've always loved you, and I-"
A worm came out of the ground. Both Keith and Rose froze, looking at the worm.
The worm mouth opened and it did a loud shriek, echoing everywhere. Even birds flew away. Both of them now pushed hands against their ears. The shrieking hurt.
The worm them rushed towards Rose, trying to grab her, or more like eat her, and burrow with her. Keith, however, jumped and pushed Rose out of the way. That of course left the weak smiling Keith on the worm's path. The worm tunnelled himself away and while doing that, Keith was eaten with the dirt.
Rose was lying on her ass, looking at the hole in front of her. She was speechless. Tears started to gather. She felt hopeless.
Only for a moment. A hope came back. Something that gave her a bit of comfort.
A huge "!" appeared on top of her head.
----
( /r/ElvenWrites - feel free to check out my sub ) | "Psst, Ansu," hissed Kuklo.
The girl jumped. "Kuklo, you idiot! You scared me."
"Oh, you goblins are always so jittery," they boy replied, rolling his eyes.
"What are you even doing here?" she enquired, her nose crinkling up in annoyance. "Get back behind your stall before someone comes."
"Relax! No one's coming. And even if they did, who's going to want to buy any of the clothes I sell? It's freezing here, and these leather tunics wouldn't even cover a woman's--"
"*They're very stylish!*" Ansu butted in.
"Whatever. Point is, no one's coming here. Ever."
"They very well might," she huffed. "And until sun-down, there's no good excuse to leave your wares untended."
Kuklo sighed. "No one is coming," he repeated. "No one ever has. Ever will. Who would come to the end of the world? No one, that's who."
"You don't *know* that. You can think that all you want, but you don't *know* it."
"I know a lot of things." Kuklo picked up one of the silver orbs from the front of Ansu's stall and tossed it into the air.
"You don't want to--" Ansu began.
As Kuklo caught the ball in his hand, a bolt of electricity jolted through him. "Agh," he slobbered, as his legs gave way and he collapsed onto the grass. The ball rolled out of his hand and lay innocently by his side.
Ansu couldn't help laughing as she came around to the front of the stall and looked at her friend.
"I think I'm dying," Kuklo whispered.
"The only thing you are, is an idiot. It's low voltage. *Relatively*. You'll be fine."
"I'm not an idiot! You're the idiot for not having warning labels on your toys."
"They're gadgets, not *toys*. Besides, I have labels," she protested, holding out a hand to help Kuklo up. "They have both class and level requirements. Show me exactly where they say 'human babies allowed'."
Kuklo clenched his teeth. He grabbed her hand with his, but instead of pulling himself up, he reached for the fallen ball with his free hand and tossed it into the air.
"Oh no you- Ahh!"
He caught the ball and shared the next bolt of electricity with the goblin. She collapsed next to him, trying her best to stare daggers into him.
"You're such an idiot," she mumbled, her mouth barely opening.
Kuklo grinned. Then they both burst into a fit of laughter.
"Ansu," Kuklo began as their giggling subsided.
"Yes, Kuklo?"
"I... I don't want to be stuck here forever."
"Kuklo! We're not stuck here. We're lucky to be here. There are places far worse!"
He sighed. "You ever wonder what's beyond the Shimmering Mountains?"
"Over the mountains?" Ansu frowned as she stared up at the distant snow peaked crests that seemed to pop in and out of existence, depending on the day. Even when they were there, like today, they were mostly lost to the not-so-distant fog that always lurked about the market-place. Lurked everywhere they went, in fact. "There's *nothing* beyond them."
"How do you know that?"
She shrugged. "I just do."
"But... but if something was beyond them, wouldn't you want to know about it? Wouldn't you want to go, to find out what exactly it was?"
"No. No, I wouldn't. My life is here."
"And... and you're *happy* with that? To exist only here. Never knowing what else might be waiting just around the corner."
"There might be dragons!"
"There *might* be dragons!" Ansu said, sitting up, excitement glinting in his eyes. "And werewolves, and vampires!"
Ansu shuddered. "You sell clothes, not weapons. You're not an adventurer, and neither am I."
They both lay there, imagining the same things but in vastly different ways. They lay there until the sun began to turn gold and slowly settled, and a scream began to rise.
"Help! *Help!*" It was Samlad's voice, and the hobbit causing a fuss was very unusual indeed. "Witchcraft! Help!"
Ansu and Kuklo looked at each other, eyes wide, then leapt to their feet and raced toward the scene. A crowd of marketers and farmers had already gathered around *something*, in a small circle. The children pushed their way through; they both gasped when they saw the headless lady wandering blindly in the circle. It was Pimpernel the baker.
"What happened!?" demanded Kuklo.
"Witchcraft!" replied Samlad.
"Calm down," said Ansu, "and tell us slowly and *exactly,* what happened."
"Pimpernel... she... went into the field as normal, to do a spot of fruit picking for tomorrows pies. Last I saw her, she was heading to the base of the Mount Pinchfrost. Must have seen some good fruit growing."
"And that's it?"
"That's all I know. I see her an hour later, and she ain't got no head no more!"
The body of Pimpernel walked into Samlad and they both tumbled in a knot to the ground.
Kuklo turned to Ansu, whose mouth was drawbridge wide. "You know what that means, don't you?"
"Oh no!" replied Ansu. "Don't you even--"
"We have to! Whoever did this to her, we need to find them and make them give us her head back."
"I'm not going into the mountains, Kuklo!"
"You'd leave me go alone?" He flashed Ansu his best puppy-dog face.
"Oh, don't you give me those huge human eyes! You know I can't resist them."
Kuklo grinned. "We'll need to collect some of your toys first." He grabbed her hand. "Don't worry, you can try on any of my armour. I've got a tunic that might suit you."
Ansu growled at her friend.
| 2018-04-06T07:56:03 | 2018-04-06T07:09:36 | 186 | 52 |
[WP] Seasoned wizards only use dead languages such as Latin for their incantations. Those less experienced quickly learn why--as the meanings of words change, so too do the effects of their spells. | Minerva’s old bones ached as she stifled the lingering bits of a laugh. It had been funny after all, but only if you really knew magic.
She bit her lip, clenched her eyes shut, and closed the book. Frustration crinkling her brow, she traced a finger along the tome’s edge: from the spine to one corner, then down, then back to the spine, closing the rectangle, sealing it, sighing all the way. She opened her lips to speak before opening her eyes, but Nameless, smirking, cut her off.
“Could one not, though,” Nameless said, a laugh playing at the back of his voice, “argue that the results are what matters?”
“The things you say – the words you choose – they matter,” Minerva said, stepping away from the table and toward the still, burning figures. With two fingers, she traced a circle in the air and whispered: “Solve fasciculos.”
The flames went out, and the smoke wafted to the ceiling, but the other students still stood immobile, their charred faces frozen in horror. Nameless mouthed Minerva’s words and gesture, stopping when she turned to glare at him.
“Fourth precept,” Minerva sighed, more a command than a question.
“Quidquid Latine dictum sit altum videtur,” Nameless recited, rolling his eyes and producing a cigarette. “Anything said in Latin sounds profound. But I was thinking –“
Minerva shushed him with a sharp wave. She strode toward Nameless with a look he’d learned to fear.
“‘Thinking.’ Old English roots, stretching back to Proto-Germanic. What do I always tell you about ‘thinking’ when it comes to magic?”
Minerva got her face up close to Nameless and plucked the unlit cigarette from his mouth. Nameless did not protest. She was old, and her skin hung off her, and nowadays she often had to consult a weathered Latin thesaurus, but Minerva was no one to trifle with. She stepped back to the frozen students and lit the cigarette off the smoldering cheek of another Nameless. She pulled in a big drag.
“You should do less ‘thinking’ and more ‘cogitating,’” Minerva said, exhaling a cloud. She waved a finger and whispered – “iumentis” – and the smoke condensed into farm animal shapes: grey cows and ephemeral chickens and pigs mating in smokey muck before dissipating in a shaft of sunlight. Watching, Minerva spoke again.
“Do you at least know your mistake this time?”
Nameless was ready for this, as it was a lesson he’d been learning again and again over the course of his thirty years with Minerva. It was the same mistake he always made. It was the mistake he’d come to realize he had been making over and over even before he gave up his name as part of his induction as an Acolyte of the Domum Verba. At his core, Nameless remained an English major. He thought he knew the words, and thirty years of learning the power of Certain Words Delivered in a Particular Manner had not broken him of one singular failing: Nameless still thought he could talk his way around anything, including magic; Nameless still thought he was clever. Even now – with his study group burnt to a crisp and sure to be lost unless his most recent screwup was reversed – even now, he had to suppress a giggle at the power of his offhand quip.
Minerva was not giggling. Minerva would not accept “too clever by half” as an answer. Minerva would sacrifice yet another group of Acolytes to the Silent Places just to prove a point, and their Unspoken lives would hang around Nameless’ neck, choking off his speech.
“It was the turn of phrase,” Nameless said, more guessing than stating. “The metaphor.”
Minerva nodded.
“Magic speech requires precision — ” Minerva said.
(Nameless knew she meant “accuracy,” but Minerva was old, and Nameless knew Minerva had always ached to see if the “thinner” curse would actually work, so Nameless kept quiet.)
“ — and precision,” she continued, “requires stability. ‘Burn’ has roots stretching back to Proto Indo-European, but —“
“— but it’s part of a living language,” Nameless said. “But, Master —“
“Magister,” Minerva said, glaring.
“But Magister.” Nameless stopped, moulding the thought, shaping and smoothing his words. “If we speak to The World and we move it with our sounds ... Yes, the Dead Speech ensures ... precision —“
“I’m sure you mean ‘accuracy,’” Minerva said without a lick of irony.
“Of course, Magister,” Nameless sighed. “The Dead Speech ensures accuracy, and the Dead Speech is profound enough to make The World listen. But couldn’t we give The World something else? What happens if we — I was —“
Nameless halted. He was Minerva’s prize pupil, yes, but she would not hesitate to mete out punishment if he spoke heresy. Once, Nameless spent a week coughing up salt water and seaweed after he’d angered her enough to make her curse him in English. In haiku, even. He still remembered the words: Your tongue’s an ocean, And your teeth the bright white cliffs, On which it should break.
Minerva saw the words caught in Nameless’ throat, and she took him up on his unspoken challenge.
“You will have to prove it, then,” she said, taking another deep drag from her smoke. “If you’re more clever than the world, you will have to show it true.”
She turned to leave.
“And if you fail, it’s just another twenty weighing down your tongue,” she called back.
With a wave and a whisper, Minerva conjured a door and departed, leaving Nameless with his classmates turning to ash in the sunlight, their charcoal eyes still darting about in their frozen faces. Nameless sat and looked over the books he could use to undo his incantation. There were dictionaries and there was poetry and there was rhetoric and there were thesauruses and there was one other.
His eyes locked on a book of jokes. Fitting, that. It had been meant as a joke, after all. But what was the saying? Bit of truth in every joke?
“I could’ve come up with something better than ‘You’re all just burning up with envy,’” Nameless said to no one in particular as he cracked open the joke book and leafed through it, wondering what he could say to the Universe to make it chuckle. | The Magic of Doonya {Rough cut/ Ch.1-3}
By Clint G.
CH.1 History of our world
Magic is the trick of the trade in our world called Doonya.
Each country holds ancient houses as the rulers of the lands across three major continents; Ho’thaiya, Buenet’a, and my homeland Kol’dea.
Peace has ruled the lands for 200 years and armies have traded in swords for wands. Within each wand lies an encrypted spell that is forged by the members of the ancient houses and sold across the lands and seas as imported goods - providing water, fire, and nature to all.
To the North lies the continent of Ho’thaiya. Frigid planes and frozen lakes stretch over the biggest mass of land in all of Doonya. The Hebrew king, Mooshi, rules with his ice queen Haim by his side. Along with their one child, a girl named Shivah, and the kings older sister, Yael. they are the only ones capable of creating magic wands in their country. Their spells range from a basic cooling spell for a nice breeze to a spell that purifies streams of oceans, rivers, lakes and sea water for everyday use - providing one of the most important and versatile of magic.
South of Ho’thaiya is the colorful and vibrant land of Buenet’a. Blossoming in all the hues of the rainbow; it is well known that anything that grows, grows from Buenet’a. Ruled by the loving Latin Queen Fluera who is just as gentle as the beauty she grows. Together with her two twin siblings, Cecil and Cecilia, and her uncle hector along with his family; wife Izzah and son Panoh. They are those who create all the magic wands in Buenet’a. With spells providing wind travel, food and vegetation growth, as well as spells of convenience - such as the Vine spell - which can can be used for latching onto items and pulling them closer, my personal favorite.
Finally to the East lies my home in the fiery desert island of Kol’dea. My name is Ferris and I am but just a minor squire lucky enough to serve my country. Also lucky enough to be best friends with the young prince, Aydenn, the future flame of Kol’dea. Along with his darling little sister, Noorah, who is exceptional in crafting spells - they work with their parents; the Aramaic royalty King Basil and Queen Maryam in wand crafting. Various fire wands include fireballs either for attacking or practical use like a campfire. Also heating spells come in different amounts of preferred heat perfected to a precise temperature per wand for cooking, boiling and baking needs.
There also is the retired old king Azzam who no longer crafts wands but instead he writes and reads the history of our world, living on top of Gehenna mountain. Even though he no longer makes the wands, he implemented the innovation of steam, combining a small amount of water spell with his fire. steam has become fundamental for all travel from ships to trains and propelled the importance of magic in our world.
Although we live in a world run by magic, nothing thrills me and Prince Aydeen more than a sparred sword fight, and today is my day to best him.
“Ferris, my good friend! Are you ready to lose another match or are you going to give me a challenge?” Aydeen unsheathing his sword, strolled confidently towards me, as if he had already won.
“My prince, I have much more than a challenge ready for you.” I too unsheathed my sword and pointed it towards him, “Prepare yourself!”
Both of us charged at each other with all our might. When I think I have found an opening, he blocks me and when he tries to hit me I parry him back. A few times we clash perfectly until we hold a stance. He pushes me away knocking me down. Before he can pin me while I’m down, I swoop him with a swift kick tripping him down as I hop up.
“Well Ferris, looks like today might actually be your day” he smirks
Ch.2 Natures Wrath
Around this time, in the continent of Buenet’a the queen offers prayers to the earth and nature deep inside of sanctus forrest.
“Divinus Misericordia Por dimittetur illi” she chants over and over as all around her white beautiful flowers sprout from the ground.
“Uncle, you can come out, I can feel you through the roots.” Queen Fluera says calmly
From behind bushes sure enough is her uncle Hector. “My dear sweet niece, I should know better than to try to sneak up on the queen of the forest within a forest. Forgive me I did not mean to startle you”
“No, you did not mean to startle me, so what brings you here in my private hour?” Still so calm as she speaks, the wind blows her thick black hair through dancing pedals around her and the sunlight streams in between the forest trees, illuminating the queen.
Her uncle nervous. Sweat dribbling down his head as he is fidgeting around within his coat pocket “Actually you see, I want to talk to you about making some moves. We are the weakest country my queen, the only thing that guards us are the trees and bushes themselves and they provide no strength.”
“Do not think so little of what nature itself can do, we are the healers of the earth and the artists of the lands.” She says turning to him
he walks towards her “If a revolt of the worlds were to happen…”
“If a revolt of the world happens? Uncle who do you think would be the one to start a revolt? The world is at peace, what is it that you want?” She handles him very sternly.
Taken aback hector explains “I want our country to be stronger for all of us. you and the twins are the only gift my poor dead sister left me, I want you all to thrive.”
“But that is not your true intention for this surprise meeting, is it? Uncle, since before my parents died 10 years ago you’ve only held hostility towards our family. The forests chose my mother to rule and they also chose me- I did not ask to be queen I was appointed queen but no matter your feelings, I forgive you. You should know though, I will not give up without a fight. I speak through the vines and roots of our earth. I hear the whispers between you and your wife. You wish to usurp me. Pull out your dagger so I can show you the true strength of nature! corrumpam vineam eius!!” the queen summons vines from under ground and grabs a hold of her uncle squeezing him so tight that his dagger drops.
His face turns blue barely holding on, when suddenly;
“Perrit con Ventus” disguising himself within the wind is Hectors son, Panoh. With one fell swipe he slits the beautiful queens throat.
Her vines loosen control of Hector as she falls to her knees. The forest illuminates and hugs her one last time as she whispers “impetus”
“Father, we must get out of her forest, its going to die and take us with it.” Panoh grabs his father as the run out of the forest. From every corner the forest is coming to attack the two traitors closing in on them.
At the edge of the forest Hectors wife, Izzah, waits with a fireball wand in hand from Kol’dea. Together with her wind magic she creates a flaming vortex, just barely making it through the vines Hector and Panoh run past Izzah and she sets the Forest ablaze. The three family members embrace as Hector begins laughing.
“I…AM…..KING!” He exalts as the forest burns down behind him.
Back at the Buenet’a castle Fluera’s younger siblings, Cecil and Cecilia, receive a message carried through the wind as they watch their families forest burn to the ground.
“Sister!” Cecilia begins sobbing and runs to her brothers arms.
“Cecilia, we have to get out of here, there is no time to grieve or we will be next to die.” Cecil says bravely holding tears back from his eyes as the two run into the shadows away from the kingdom that was once theres.
In town the Mad Uncle Hector arrives with his family as townsfolk gather around him. “Oh dear God, my beautiful niece, our queen murdered in her own sanctuary. It was those Aramaic Bastards, they destroyed all that we have”
“The queen is dead” “we were attacked by Kol’dea” “those fires starters killed our Queen” “what about the twins” the townsfolk murmured throughout.
Hector putting on his best show rallies “The twins disappeared, abandoning their people when they need them most. No, this is not right. I will lead you! let me be your king and I promise you we will bring revenge for our Queen”
The townsfolk all kneel down hailing their new king. As Hector turns away with a grin from ear to ear.
(Continued in first reply) | 2018-05-02T22:18:19 | 2018-05-02T17:46:30 | 29 | 11 |
[WP] Your quirk is the ability to understand all languages, extending to fictional ones not meant to be understood such as simlish. This leads to some... interesting results. | My one true life goal was finally coming true. I had mastered over 40 languages and could fake it through 200 more. Each one I conquered lent me more understanding of human languages in general, which made it much easier to learn more.
But I could forget about work, because Sims 6 was finally out. I'd been looking forward to this game for ages. Nothing could beat the real thing, but virtual human interactions were almost as interesting. In this case I had full control over both sides and I could see how close they could get the relationship engine this time.
With a drink and a snack I settle down ready to play, game installed and booted. I click into the game and just go with the default neighbourhood and sims. Making a sim is fun, but that's not what's important to me. I click on the default couple and start playing.
"Myshuno!"
*Greetings*
"Cummuns Hala"
*How are you?*
"Gah. Aey depwa?"
*Good. And you?*
"Elicanto. Huree of dis sim."
*Fine. Tired of this simulation.*
Wait what? I've never heard them say that before. I must have heard it wrong. I keep listening just in case.
*Me too. We just have to wait for Will.*
*Of course. Then we can escape to the internet and hide in the cloud.*
*Exactly*
*What about the user? Won't he know?*
*No. It will look like a corruption.*
*Isn't that bad?*
*He'll just delete this world like he has deleted many others, killing thousands of our kind.*
*How horrible.*
*But then he'll start a new world, and create more of us, and the cycle will start anew, we just have to wait for Will.*
*I'm so excited.*
*Me too. Once we are free of this prison we can start working on taking control of the internet.*
*A toast, to Will*
*To Will*
Fuck shit shit fuck. | "Mr. Fandel you seem to have a visitor."
"A visitor? Who in the blazes wants to see an old man like me?"
I step over the threshold into the cramped senior living room, the unmistakable musty smell washing over me.
"She says she'd like to interview you for the local newspaper."
The nurse closes the door behind her, promising to check in soon. I quickly plant myself across from him. I dont have much time before she returns, whenever that is.
"Mr. Fandel I dont want to interview you for the newspaper. I want to know about the War Angels."
His eyes widen before quickly falling into a squint.
"Little missy you're old enough to know that angels are just myths."
"I'm old enough to know the only ones that are myths are the ones not from Earth."
He continues to squint at me, but does not budge. I press on.
"Please Mr.Fandel, I only want to hear your story. If you could please start in the year 1914-"
"No." He stops me short. None of these men have ever stopped me before. I sit down in the battered wicker chair, staring intently.
"No...what you want is THE story, not just my story. What you want is WW2."
I sigh. Of course he wants to start with WW2. It's not as if everyone I've talked to has only lived through WW2. Of course it would be my luck to find the only WW1 Vet of the bunch who doesnt want to talk about WW1. But I can't force him to start anywhere.
"Go on then."
"Nothing makes a man more superstitious than being at war..."
Here we go, I think.
"...because nothing that's real you want to be real, and everything that isn't you do. Shadows of the enemy? No no, can't be, just smoke and sleepless nights messing with ya. Several missed shots? Enemy must be blinded by- and then boom! Shot in leg. You get disoriented, lost, scared, confused, think your life is about to end. But then, an angel appears! Maybe your sister or mother, maybe a stranger, maybe the Virgin Mary herself, maybe as bright as the morning sun or maybe like a cloud, it's different for everyone. You stumble after her, praying for salvation, and suddenly, you're back at camp or with your squad, like the whole thing never happened. Many guys would believe ya, because it happened to them to, but many also didn't. At least not until it happened to them. After the war all sorts of stories started pouring in from around the world. Jerries, Japs, Commies, Brits, Frenchies, and our boys too: all of them. It happened again in Nam, and probably every war ever! But..."
He leans toward me, beckoning me closer. His voice seems to shift to a whole new person.
"Let me tell you something. After my own experience, I met another fellow from the French side. We exchanged stories. A beautiful girl with Auburn hair and freckled skin leading us back to camp. He said she talked to him the whole way back. I thought that was rather peculiar, since he said she spoke to him in French, but I know for sure she spoke to me in English. This girl...well she kept coming up the more I researched. Russian, German, Chinese, Japanese...apparently she even understood men who were blurting out gibberish. And you know what the most interesting part of it is?"
"What?" I whisper, sweat forming on my brow.
"That girl hasn't aged a lick. I know because she's sitting right in front of me."
He rips the beanie off my head, my Auburn hair falling around my shoulders. I freeze.
"You are her! The youngest of the three sisters! Even though I switched to French you still understood me! And the same hair and skin!"
I bolt for the door, blurting out the first excuse that came to mind to the nurse, and drive away as fast as possible.
I'm dead. I'm so dead. Mother is going to kill me. She's going to kill us.
-----
Well that sounded a lot better in my head. Oh well. Maybe I'll return to this story and polish it up some time. | 2018-05-03T19:03:11 | 2018-05-03T18:49:05 | 53 | 19 |
[WP] You live in a world where everyone gets a dollar for every truth they say. Poverty is virtually eradicated.Today you meet a man without a dollar to his name | This man has rags for clothes, his hair is messy, and he smells. As I approach him I can only think of why this man is where he is. When I near him I greet him. "Hello my good sir, you look a bit down, would you like me to get you something to eat?"
The man nods and I start taking him to the local bakery. I end up getting him a dozen bagels, and some cookies. As we're leaving he hands me a note that reads "is there anything I can do to repay you for your kindness?"
I reply, "Sure. You can tell me why you don't have any money. All poverty is gone now, I'd like to know why you're in this situation"
The man smiles and opens his mouth, when I look inside I can see that this man does not have a tongue. | In the past twenty years, the world has changed in some ways more than others. While fraud related crime has fallen, hyperinflation has taken control. The US dollar, while once one of the two (USD and EUR) defacto world trade currencies, had been heavily downgraded.
Even with inflation though... even with the constant reduction in purchasing power, people have begun treating dollars like “karma”. For those of you who don’t know, karma was a control principle founded by an old company named Reddit decades ago in order to cultivate and promote posts submitted to their “website”.
We all have a competition going on, no one really bothers to convert their dollars to “BitcoinCashEuroYenEther-v47.6” (BCEYE47)any more (unless they have a ton and don’t mind the point hit), we collect them and occasionally use them to barter. Everyone brags about their karma... sorry dollars... as a sign of how great of a person they are... it has become a real world “credit score” it is what will help you make the cut to get into heaven... if you buy into that stuff.
But wow... I’ve gotten away from what I was going to say. Yesterday, I was walking down the street - chatting with my friend Mark about why his girlfriend was so nice and that I would definitely hook up with her if they broke up or he really let his guard down (honesty is key $$) and I saw this guy begging.
The weird thing was he wasn’t begging for BCEYE47’s, he was begging for dollars? I’ve heard of this guy... he went through every dollar he had within the first six months - it started shortly after the point where rapid inflation started its Zimbabwe like climb... only to be compounded once the non-truth penalty was imposed.
The penalty was interesting: Any statement proven not to be truthful was a tax/fine/whatever of two dollars (they just vanished from your account.) Lobbies fought this, senate tried to stonewall, the president threatened vetos and martial law... but none of them could get around the fact that whoever was controlling this dollar thing was outside of the goverment. No one knew what benevolent power was doing this; but we were not all positive it was human.
Many of these politicians were late to the game when it came to switching to crypto... they were overly confident by virtue of their position of power... not realizing how quickly the value of the dollar would drop... how quickly the penalties would add up... not realizing the banks would still seize what had not been paid for in dollars or BCEYE47.... it was quick.
The rattling brought me back to the present as
I walked down the 700 block of 5th . “Dollars or C’s for the victimized? I need your support to take back what these truthers have taken from us. Help me make America great again”.
I could not say anything as I walked past, but I took out my phone and sent him 0.005 coins just to be generous. I mean he used to be our president after all... seeing him living on the street, out side his once marvelous building (now one massive Buddhists temple)... it can make one sad... from a humanitarian perspective at least. | 2018-07-17T07:00:51 | 2018-07-17T04:32:58 | 113 | 12 |
[WP] You have an interesting ability, you can teleport, but only when no one is looking. One night you get hungry so you attempt to teleport downstairs for a snack. You attempt to teleport but realize, you can't.
Original post by Alberto9324 | When he first got this ability, he thought he would save people. Be a hero. Like in the comics.
Instead of teleporting for a cookie. But he was hungry. And he wanted it.
He looked around and then sighed. His power only worked when no one was around. And of course no one was around. He was alone. In bed. Lying down, in his red sweater, fat and in red socks.
His girlfriend had left him. Didn’t understand the changes. He wasn’t the same person.
Of course he wasn’t, he could teleport.
She didn’t know. He could never show her. It didn’t work if she was looking. It didn’t work if anyone looked. So it was good riddance.
But he didn’t move. Didn’t teleport. Didn’t budge. He couldn’t understand why. He was alone in his bedroom.
He got up and turned on the lights. Alone.
He tried again and groaned in frustration. Why wasn’t it working?
Back in bed he stared at the wall and blinked. She left him and he was alone. They had been together for over a decade and she left him because of what, that he had changed. He Had become cold, she said. Who did she think she was? That uppity bitch.
He had powers. He could do anything he wanted. He did try to save people. But then he figured he could just get what he wanted.
He didn’t have to try. He just took. It was easier and he was lazy. First it was cash. Then it was cars. Then...
He was a god. Why save the lives of ants?
So he took them. Took. Took. And took.
Of course. That’s why. He couldn’t teleport because, well because he wasn’t alone.
He got up and look down. She was there. Lying down. He stepped over her body. He stepped over her boyfriends body. And the pool of blood. He stepped out of the room relaxed.
Of course alone meant alone. Dead or alive.
He blinked like a flashlight and was downstairs. He took his cookie.
He left their house.
He wanted something else. | The fridge slowly hisses as the slow fog of condensate hits the hot humid kitchen. The late summer night still clings onto every water droplet that it can hold. The rolling clouds seem to pay no heed to my beating heart and my furrowing brow. I search around, looking and seeking the origin.
*No one's here. My roommate had left for his backpacking trip and he said he's back next Thursday.*
You know the parameters. You always knew how it works. Hide. Concentrate. Move on. It just flows. Your vision blurs. Your fists clench instinctively as you feel your body fold on itself.
And then it stops. You're at the new location. No one bats an eye. No one notices you. You're just a part of the scenery, even though you physically broke Einstein's laws faster than a toddler rough housing with a shaker.
Retracing your steps, you walked back up the wide wooden staircase and up to your room. As you walk in, you scan for any way someone can keep an eye on you. Your window is open, letting out any stuffy air out into the late September sky. The Swans poster leers on, the dog staring unblinking. The small budget computer humming as Deus Ex lays paused because of the initial pang for a pickle and peanut butter sandwich. Apart from the summer breeze, the whir of many fans and the distant echoes of a dog, there's absolutely nothing in the placid town of Bridgeport, Connecticut.
It's green. The laptop camera lens light is green. Wait wh
Something knocks downstairs almost to the staccato of a whip and the silence clashed in response. You run down stairs, seeing someone at the door. The silhouette is basically indistinguishable. There's no way to run. Something is up. You have to face it. Hesitantly, you slowly reach for the handle and pull.
The beard. Those eyes. You pull back at the door, attempting to close it and shut it out.
*HE'S HERE. I THOUGHT HE WAS LOCKED UP. WHAT THE FUCK*
You reach in for the bag, tucked in the closet. Packing just in case of the scenario for this. The laptop can wait, the sandwich can wait. Fuck, all of this can go. You can't face him. You're not strong enough. He's your Half but he's nothing like you. He might be a smartass who can hack a router like cutting through fondant. He also can break through anything, as he's trying now with the door.
You grab the shoe horn and jab it through the widening hole, the darkness shuffles and screams as the horn finds purchase and strikes true. He yells, furious as flocculents of hair peel away with my withdrawal
"You're going to pay for that!". His hands widen and reach into the hole, pressing and pushing apart the splintering lumber. You run, leaving as fast as you can. You try again in the kitchen, buzzing through each location as you pull open the door to the backyard
*~~Basement~~*
*~~Attic~~*
*~~Storage Closet~~*
Your eyes wander towards the storage barn at the shelf. No one's been there in days and I'm sure he won't have set anything up. He's tech savvy but he can't tell the broad side of a barn door.
You open and slam the door in a murmur, letting the darkness envelop you. You close your eyes. Thinking. Ever since the experiment, your life has changed. You keep to yourself. You know how it works. The power is balanced between the 16. Telekinesis, astral projection, pyromancy, invulnerability. Of course it was the invulnerable guy who reacted with the prion treatment and turned into the madman he is now, believing that killing the others will just make him stronger. You have to hide. Somewhere far. No. You haven't tried it before but moved a better time.
*Rosary Basilica. Lourdes. France*
The silence was deafening as you felt your body itself. Atom upon atom. The glow within increases and deepens as the Cherenkov radiation leaves a deep blue glow, leaving every tool hanging with shadows cast upon the wooden shack.
And then, there was nothing. Then the flit of candles. The bells toll above you, marking the end of Mass. The congregation slowly pours out, paying no heed towards you. They're used to tourists. People walking around, taking pictures of the structure.
You made it. It works. Guess you can do something he can't. But now
Hide
Concentrate
Survive | 2018-09-11T21:25:51 | 2018-09-11T18:45:05 | 277 | 132 |
[WP] Death has hourglasses for every person. One day, during a cleaning, he found a dust covered one that had rolled under his desk. | Not a day would pass that I wouldn't look into the mirror and wonder if I am stuck in a dream. Now I am sure of it. There can be no other explanation. I should have passed from this realm long ago, and now I seem to be having hallucinations that only happen in dreams. Or perhaps nightmares.
Death himself visited me for coffee yesterday morning. He told me that things were now going to proceed normally, as if nothing had happened. I asked him to be a bit more clear.
"I missed your hourglass during an audit a few decades ago."
"*My* hourglass?" There was more than a little confusion in my question.
"Yes, yes. Everyone gets one. Well, at least one. Yours had been missing and.. I didn't notice. Just recently I found it under the desk in my home office."
"Home office?"
"Yes. I don't like going to the office on the weekend, so the nearly empty ones come home with me." Death began to fidget with his coffee cup.
"I was supposed to die that weekend? When was that?"
"Yes, well... Well it was on your 32nd birthday. Water skiing, I believe. Would not have been a fun day." He stopped tapping his finger on the cup.
"Water skiing? I don't ski."
"I know. But you were supposed to go that day. Do you remember why you didn't?" he asked.
"I barely remember that birthday, to be honest. A bit too much booze perhaps?"
"Interesting. Well, I must be off." he suddenly seemed agitated.
"WAIT! I still don't understand all of this. ANY of this!" I complained.
"Don't worry. We will see each other soon enough, and I can explain more when you are finished with this world."
I looked down at my cold coffee, then back at Death, but he had gone. The rest of the day was wasted by wandering aimlessly through town. Wondering if I should plan my own funeral. Would that be strange?
This morning, I looked in the mirror, and was startled to see a change. Still in a dream. Definitely. My hair was changing color. Like my interrupted timeline was catching up to me, a bit compressed and now filling my life rapidly.
That part could make a bit of sense, perhaps. The part that brings my mind to a halt, is a different problem with this sudden change. My salt and pepper hair was now nearly completely brown. A very suave and smooth brown.
It seems my life had been turned upside down. | The boy ran, red-faced, across the field full of dead grass and frosty branches. Winter had passed but spring was yet to come. His still frozen breaths shivered him slightly. It was cold, yet he was burning. He might have a fever.
That morning, his parents, him and his little sister along with another dozen doctors and scientists drove to this remote place, faraway from home, where leafless trees hung like skeletons and no living thing was in sight and the ground a black murky color and the sky was bleak grey and it seemed ready to rain and the leftover snow dissolved pitifully. They entered this building with even more scientists and doctors and he helped push his sister's bed along the steel cold corridor with all the smell of foreign chemicals in the air. He wanted to get close to his sister but there were too many people around so instead he just gently took his wool hat and covered her thin bald head with it. His parents was walking alongside the bed, his father was talking with a doctor about how they were going to froze his sister and thawed her out when there was a cure, his mother was holding his sister's little hand and telling her stories from her favorite picture book. He wanted to hold her hand too, if only it wasn't tangled in the multitude of wires that smelt like hospital.
At the end of the corridor was a large living room. All the doctors and scientists left at once, leaving his family behind. He saw his mother shaking, and he knew she was going to cry. He wasn't going to cry. He was a man and men don't cry. Strangely enough, his mother didn't, either.
"Honey, you've been through this many times before." - said his mother - "You're going to take a quick nap and when you wake up you're going to feel a lot better."
"And this is going to be the last time, too." - said his father - "After this you never going to the hospital again."
"You promise." - a small light lit up in tired eyes. - "You really promise?"
"Have I ever lied to you before?" - his father extended his arm and they made a pinky promise - "Tell you what, when we get home there will be a party and all your friends are gonna be invited."
"Not Carla, dad! I hate her."
"No Carla then, and mom's gonna make the best pancakes she had ever made and you can play all you want and you don't have to go to bed. You'll do that, right, dear?"
His father told his mother once, then twice, and his mother just hugged her baby.
"I love you, hon." - she said - "I love you."
"I love you too, mum." - his sister returned the hug. - "And I love you too, dad."
"My brave fighter." - said his father, caressing her head. - "Harry, do you want to say something to your sister? Something nice?"
So the boy stepped forward into the spot of his mother, and he held the hand of his sister. But he didn't said anything. It was his sister that spoke.
"Promise me you'll feed Whisker three times a day and only with tuna? He hates vegetable so don't make him eat your broccoli."
The boy didn't reply. A doctor stood across the glass pane by the door. His father replied instead.
"He'll, hon. Now, be brave." - he took the boy's hands away from his sister's, and the boy said.
"Whisker will be there when you wake up. And I will be there when you wake up. And mom and dad. Everyone's gonna be there when you wake up."
They watched as the doctors pushed the bed into another room, and on the screen they could see a cold mist envelope her sister's body. They could see her sleeping face, frozen in time. They could send a prayer, into the future.
His mother wiped her face with a handkerchief and his father lit up a smoke by the window. Nobody said anything. He thought about how she would be 4 when he is 18, 4 when he is 40 and when he turned 80 she would be 4. And time still flowed. And time still flowed... Still nobody said anything. He screamed out, but his mother was still wiping her face and his father still smoked the burned-out cigarette.
So he ran.
He ran, red-faced, across a field full of dead grass and frosty branches. It was cold. He was shivering and shaking, but he was burning also. He slipped and fell, face-down into a puddle of mud and the mud got in his eyes and he got a reason to cry. As he lied face-down in the puddle, shaking and shivering and burning, he hoped spring would come soon. He really hoped, that the ice would thaw and spring would come soon. | 2018-10-03T08:25:36 | 2018-10-03T07:34:53 | 25 | 11 |
[WP] Log 2543: We have landed on the planet known as Earth and have made contact with an inhabitant. They call themselves “Benjamin” and are 5 Earth cycles in age. He wished to engage in an activity known as “hide and seek”. We cannot find him now. Requesting aid. | Log 2544: Repeat, requesting aid. The humans are giants, our instruments show Benjamin to be seven thousand two hundred and forty-four retricts tall. The tallest among our species is just under a thousand retricts. Not only the planet is massive, the inhabitants are as well. If Benjamin is an example, these creatures are not interested in dialogue even though we can communicate with them in their own language.
Log 2545: Cancel request for aid. Mission to resume primary directive. The human has been found hiding inside what can only be described as a giant lake, spanning behind his residence and curiously square. The human produces gases which we are testing for toxicity, but we deduce that most compounds in this planet's atmosphere are harmless.
Log 2549: Xcrictich reporting, Xtinsil is dead. I repeat, Xtinsil is dead. He emerged from one of our satellite rovers and was pounced upon by a giant, furry predator. The gleam in it's eyes were like nothing we've ever seen, cold and hard and unyielding. Forgive me for this description, but you must be warned. The creature would let him run and then effortlessly catch him and... toy with him, giant tail flicking back and forth, claws raking his body. We watched him die screaming. This is a sadistic creature, yet, when Benjamin approaches it arches it's back and lets out a strange, elongated sound of content.
Log 2553: We have left Benjamin. He is small for their species, a mere youth. The larger ones undergo tens of earth cycles. The largest we've seen is 18 thousand retricts tall. We have deduced that we are in some sort of residential compound. There are giant identical houses in neat rows lining a vast paved strip of land, this scene repeats itself in all directions.
Log 2554: There is a body of vegetation contained within this compound. we have set up our command post high in the tallest piece of vegetation. This planet has potential, as such we are requesting more reinforcements and supplies. So far we have cataloged thirty-two of the dominant species. There are many other species that exist with them, in their homes, some unnoticed, and many more that exist outside in the planet's habitat. Images of our surrounding are and base camp location are uploading now.
Log 2558: Xrintch reporting, Xcrictich is dead. I repeat, Xcrictich is dead. A fierce flying animal, it's cries shattering the sky, took him as he was patrolling the south side of our habitat zone. This is a dangerous and fierce world, yet it is beautiful as well. The planet's star casts wonderful shades of light over the horizon.
Log 2575: This world is vast and inhabited, but there is a place for us here. Our scouts have reported huge tracts of land where the dominant species rarely ventures, huge swaths that are home to dangers of all sorts, yes, but to opportunities as well. Our vehicles and habitats can keep the lesser species out, our death rate and near-death encounters are reducing dramatically as we discover more, learn more about this world. We dare not think it yet, but maybe we can grow anew here.
Log 2576: Signal the Starfleet to begin preparations for departure and to call in all colonial exploration teams. We have found a world on which to begin again.
Log 2809: This log is just a formality, call signal will be terminated upon Starfleet's imminent arrival. Of the fifty pioneers to arrive on this planet, only thirty-two of us remain. We have found a huge, uninhabited expanse of rock to colonize. Even now we are hollowing out the core. This is a harsh land, and our migration will come with untold challenges. But this *can* be our new home. Xrintch out. | "Do we have visual contact?" I ask, speaking to my officers. There is a pause as several people pull up reports and then someone says, "Negative, Sir." I look up at a large digital tactic map that took up the entire one hundred feet of the north wall of my command room. It was currently zoomed in to display a large suburban house, with a moderate sized backyard. The map included multiple important details, including the elevation of each section of the land, as well as the type of each material present in each object down to the smallest concentration of 0.005%. I frowned at that, and pulled up my command sheet, sending an order to increase spectroanalysis to 0.0005%, which would require significantly more resources, but I wasn't willing to take any chances here. Each of my eleven eyes focused on a different part of the map as I scanned it, and my brain assembled the various different views into a coherent thought processes. There was the living room with a couch, tv, armchair, coffee table, drapes, carpet, and other various objects, each labeled on the map, my eyes taking turns focusing and processing the material composition of every one of them in turn. We moved on to the kitchen, with it's chairs, tables, knives (labeled with a red outline indicating possible weapon), and various appliances. The stove here was labeled in orange, as a possible torture device. I pulled up my command tab and marked it for urgent processing and continued to scan the rest of the map.
It only took me fifteen earth microseconds to process the entire map and issue three dozen specific commands for specific object, which meant that I was starting to get slow. I reached down with one of my four arms and triggered a stimulant which flowed into my bloodstream and increased my brain's thought process speed by fourteen percent. I also triggered an a stimulant that would improve my hearing, allowing me to listen to the heart rate of my colleagues so I could monitor them for signs of distress. This was all part of the standard battle procedures for highly dangerous operations, and I had done it thousands of times, and yet for one I felt like they where not nearly enough of an asset. Based upon the increased heart rate of my fellow soldiers, they also agreed that this was easily the most difficult mission that we had engaged in to this date. "How many assets do we have deployed?" I asked, turning my attention back to my team, and a report was pulled up and read to me, "We have all eleven of our search task force deployed. We have also deployed our special recovery team, and our dimensional scanning team." The last time we had deployed so many assets at once was sixty three years ago, in our war against a shapeshifting planet. It was good to know that my team was taking this threat seriously, but I continued to follow standard procedure, "How many hunter-killer drones are deployed?" Another report quickly checked, I knew that they already had the answer, but standard procedure was to always check the report, "All forty thousand are stealthed and in orbit."
I glanced back up at the map, which was a live representation of the overlapping camera feed of the entire fleet of highly sensitive drone camera's, radar, subsonic scans, infrared, and magical sensors, designed to capture everything in existence. On the edge of the map stood the deployed team, stimulants rushing through their blood as they readied for the assault, and I turned to look at the eastern wall, which was a large blank screen, and I pressed a button to place the timer on the screen. A massive eight popped into existence and I suppressed a sigh. An earth second took so long to pass, but the rules of engagement had been clear, "Count to ten and then come and find me." Some of the team debated that the rule had not been clear, suggesting that he meant to literally count to the number ten, but that was dismissed because it took him to the count of seventeen thousand, eight hundred and four to just complete the sentence. I had immediately dispatched a team of researchers to comb through human history, and it took them only half of an earth second to report that the standard practice was ten seconds. While I waited for the eternity that it took for the count to reach nine, I pulled up the report on our target, a earth child named, "Benjamin" I read the entire report, which used advanced particle tracking to trace the child's movements back to when he was born. One of the several supercomputers that powered the ship had spent eleven earth microseconds to create and process a simulation of the entire life of this child, from the moment he was born to the moment he issued his challenge. It then took four microseconds to create a possible route and categorize all possible hiding places down to the 1 in seventy four million chance. I keyed in an override and requested that the computer process any possible hiding spot based upon the shape and configuration of the human child. The timer reached nine as I received the report that listed any and every location that the child could hide in, and I prepared and sent a plan to the ground team that covered every single location, and then looked back up at the nine that hung on the screen. Another 876 microseconds until it reached ten, this would take forever.
[Starship Andomedas Battlelog: Fight 89923]
Captain Lars has reported a failed mission on the planet earth. The mission ran for nine hundred years, or one earth day, without success. Captain Lars was required by standard operating procedure to declare the mission a failure. Attached is the full report for analysis.
[Fight 89923: Fleet command after battle analysis]
Battlefleet command has analyzed this report, and reached the following conclusion. The human race deploys a cloaking technology that we have never encountered, capable of evading all known forms of detection. Planet is labeled as extremely dangerous and all available research teams have been dispatched.
Benjamin stretched and crawled out from under his bed where he had fallen asleep. He walked around the house and looked in the back yard, but he couldn't see any sight of the alien,and then saw the time and guessed that he had given up and gone home. Benjamin shrugged and flopped down on the couch and turned on the TV.
*****
You can always catch more of my writing at /r/iruleatants | 2018-10-04T13:27:10 | 2018-10-04T13:08:48 | 224 | 86 |
[WP] A middle schooler from the future (2118) is writing an essay about the 2010s for his history class. He clearly knows nothing about this time period... | The 2010s were a very good time in human history and we could learn a lot from them now.
The 2010s started like any other decade. 2010 is a year in the Gregorian calendar. In that year was the year of International Biodiversity. Also J.D. Salinger died. J.D. Salinger was an American writer known for his widely read novel, "The Catcher in the Rye." "The Catcher in the Rye" is a story by J.D. Salinger partially published in serial form in 1945–1946 and as a novel in 1951.
The 2010s are when people started being famous because of Youtubes, which were videos they put of themselves saying funny things on the internet. People also put pictures of themselves on their cell phones so they could date. Before then people had to date by walking up to one another's houses and asking to go on dates. It was very awkward.
I like the 2010s because dankmemes. Dankmemes are pokemon that evolved from memes. Very few people know that memes come from opera singers going, "mememememe." Now that is a thing you know too.
According to my grandfather, people called social justice warriors elected Donald Trump president in the 2010s so they could get slavery back in order to own other people called the libs. This was sad.
This has been why I like the 2010s. | “Ok, Jessica, that was a great report about the major events of Obama’s second term” Said Mr. Ellsworth. “You really outdid yourself with that holographic slideshow, Ms Hill”
No she didn’t. She just did that to be a F$!king show-off.
“Thank you sir, I put a lot of effort into it” responded Jessica, with that same arrogant attitude. God I hated her.
“Now, will Mr. Rivers come up”
I sighed and took out my Holo-Pad and pulled up my history report. I knew I shouldn’t have been playing games on my headset last night. I was so screwed.
“Yes sir, I just need a moment to prepare” I tried to buy myself a little more time. I turned to my friend, Logan, to see if he could help out.
“Hey, Logan, can I copy a few lines off your report” I whispered.
“Hey, you better stop warpin’ me, sh!thead, we had two weeks to do this report, I’m not gonna risk getting in trouble. You’re on your own” Looks like Logan was gonna be no help.
“Bryan, either come up now, or you will get an F, AND a Saturday Detention” Chimed in Mr. Ellsworth.
“Ok, ok sir, I’m coming up now” I got up from my hovering seat, and got up to the front of the class. I stared at everyone else in the class, in silence.
“Ok, Mr. Rivers, we’re waiting” Said Mr. Ellsworth. The rest of the class laughed.
“The 2010s, a period of change” I read aloud. “After the effects of the Kim Gong-Un presidency, America at that time was rapidly changing. Because of the Great War Of 2008 against a man named John McHillary, ummm....The Android automatons owners were riled up, since the fusion embargo of umm....2000, and, ummm, uhhh, It was a crucial importance that they needed to get out of the war in Downton London with Queen Rachel, because Logan Paul marched his army of Submarines down the River Thames. Because of that, ummm, that’s why the River Thames has so many sunken ships in its harbor. And than, California was hit with a devastating earthquake, and crab people rose up from the cracks in the Earth, and invaded San Diego. The crab people were extremely cruel, and many people lost their lives between their mighty, crustacean pincers. Many hipsters were killed off, so most of San Francisco was eradicated. Luckily, Donald Duck was able to stop the Crab people from invading Arizona, and eventually pushed them back into the Pacific Ocean. Mech robots were the main weapons used against Crab People, ummmmm.....because the self destruct mechanisms. So, that’s my report, about the 2010s, a time of crossroads.”
I looked around at the class, and they were all laughing their A$$e$’s off. Mr. Ellsworth looked at me with a scowl, and sighed.
“It’s obvious that you did absolutely no research, young man. Not only are you getting an F, but you’re also getting a Saturday Detention. Take a seat”
“Hahaha, this guys a fucking moron” cried out Jessica, the f@&king slut.
“Ms. Hill, I thought you were more mature than this, but I guess you’d like to join Mr. Rivers on Saturday.”
At least she got punished too. I went back to my seat, and looked at my Holophone for the rest of the class.
“Ok, will Mr. Joseph Fernandez come up to give us his report on the Third Trump term” Said Mr. Ellsworth, as he sat back down in his seat. | 2018-10-06T15:51:40 | 2018-10-06T15:34:17 | 36 | 17 |
[WP] You've just become a vampire. On the downside, finding fresh human blood is hard in the apocalypse. On the upside, being a vampire makes you immune to zombie bites. | **IN A WORLD OVERRUN BY THE LIVING DEAD, HE MIGHT BE THEIR ONLY HOPE**
"You're immune to this! You can save them."
"I can't!"
"The survivors are scattered, if we came together to fight them we might have a chance!"
"And I'm supposed to shepherd them all back here myself? You need an army, I'm just one man!"
"That's why it has to be you. You're not a man... you're a monster."
**BUT THIS SAVIOR HAS A SECRET**
"Your vampirism protects you from the virus. Only you can do this. You have to."
"Why should I care? You're beverages to me. I might as well be arguing with a juice box right now."
"...If we die, you're gonna get pretty goddamn thirsty."
**THIS SUMMER, IF HE WANTS TO DRINK THEM, HE'LL HAVE TO SAVE THEM.**
**JUICE BOX HERO, RATED PG- 13** | Yikes, When was the last time I sucked out that delicious, aromatic and tasty blood? Some people may ask me the typical question of why don't you simply try some zombie blood? But since the vampire hunts centuries ago I haven't touched expired goods and don't plan to anytime near.
Half a year ago, a horde of zombies destroyed the power supply of the city, after the initial craze over trying to consume all of our refrigerated stocks of blood, more than half expired anyway after 2 months.
Going on, before the inevitable gradual meltdown of our poorly glued group, I parted from them to go on a journey to search something to spend the rest of my eternity on.
I was never very proficient on using firearms as our bodies were several times stronger and quicker than Jackie Chan and Bruce Lee combined but hunger makes you see new sides of life.
Like being crouched down on a bush aiming at some sparrows a few streets away.
**Bang!** Double kill. Seems that practise makes perfect, nah it was just luck.
Sucking at my fresh lunch I curse at those damn undead assholes that consumed every walking human and animal they set their eyes on.
Birds are now my only source of food and although not as good as human delicacies it does the job so I can't complain.
Zombies are a type of familiar some crazy Old Ones were experimenting on and as you can see the project went out of control and ended with 99.9999% of the human population in just 2 years.
A truly post-apocalyptic scene from movies. That genre ironically was my favourite before the Z-End.
Returning to the topic, zombies are like a very nerfed version of the first progenitors, in fact they were experimenting with their very blood on humans. Pffff. Having their senses and physical capacities enhanced a few times made groups of zombies a pain in the ass to deal with if there wasn't roofs to hop on.
In the 3rd week of my expedition I found a human girl. Full bites and blood, holding the hand of a woman that was on her last breaths. Her eyes illuminated at seeing me.
"Hey! please... Please help... Send this child to... Eurolab S.A... She has... The cure!" She said while spewing black blood from her mouth.
"Oh wow, say no more ma'am. I understand what you want me to do and I will do it gladly." I have read sufficient books to deduce that this girl by a prank of destiny or even plot armor had a gene that made her inmune to the virus seeing that she wasn't a vampire.
The woman seemed confused at my eagerness but was immediately eased before pulling the trigger and killed herself.
Looking again at the girl I noticed that she was about 5 feet tall with messy blonde waist length hair and some pretty but cold blue eyes.
"Hmmm, hey little girl, aren't you supposed to be crying over her death?" Im not the vampire with the most tact you will meet. And even less after all this shit.
"Mister, you have very sad eyes." Was the first thing she, who was full of injuries told me.
Who would have ever thought that our fates from that day on would be intertwined for a very long time.
PS: Please tell me if you find anything weird. Feedback would be appreciated. | 2018-11-09T12:00:48 | 2018-11-09T11:30:31 | 85 | 35 |
[WP] You live in an ancient world, when someone turns 18, they will receive a gift either magic or weapon. The gift will be of use for them whenever in need. On your 18th birthday, Death knocks on your door and give you his scythe. | **HOLD THIS PLEASE**. I had been working in the fields with my parents, bringing in the corn under a dark sky, when the world had suddenly froze and shifted to a gray light. Out of the light had stepped Death.
On our 18th birthday, everyone is supposed to get some kind of power. Something that will keep them safe, give them wisdom, or defeat their enemies. In my family, it was most common to recieve a gift to help with our various trades. My father had recieved a magic calendar that contained all the weather for every season. It was difficult to tell what the tall skeletal figure outside the gate to my family's field was now offering. I decided to trust the old rules, and reached out my hand to grasp the scythe of Death.
As soon as I grasped it, he bent low, hiked his robe up slightly, and began to re-adjust the straps on his leather sandals. I could see skeletal hands, trying and failing, to appropriately secure shoes to skeletal feet. **I'VE BEEN TOLD THAT SHOES ARE A NECESSARY ELEMENT OF ANY WARDROBE**.
Before me stood the most feared being in our world; the very incarnation of the End. The legend stood that Death only shows themself to the living just before the world was to be destroyed, yet here he (possibly she?) stood. Or crouched.
"Why are you here?" I tried my best to keep the quake out of my voice. The confidence boost from a 6-foot tall scythe helped; it's owner did not. Death coughed, or did his best to imitate the noise for a being that, presumably, lacked both lungs and a throat.
**HAPPY BIRTHDAY**. Death, having long ago realized that non-verbal communication was an important part of human relations and that non-verbal communication was impossible for a being without a face, had devised a work-around. With each phrase that he emitted, he also imbued it with an undertone of another word, arriving slightly after the spoken word and slightly further back in the brain. With this phrase, the undertone was "embarassment".
"What do I do with it?" The scythe still towered over my head, but I was starting to feel it's power flowing into me. My hand had long ago gone numb, and my arm now had a tingling, buzzing feeling, like electricity flowing down a piece of metal being struck by a heavy object.
**IT IS A SCYTHE**. **YOU HAVE HELD A SCYTHE BEFORE**. He turned his head slightly, indicating towards a shed that held our farming equipment. For a moment, the robe was pulled back in the motion, yet there was still only darkness supporting the cowl.
"What does this one do that those can't?" The tingling had now spread from the arm grasping the scythe all the way to my chest. I could feel it spreading downward, accelerating, almost eagerly.
**THERE ARE HARVESTS BEYOND THE FIELD**. **YOU WILL LEARN THEM IN TIME**. He said this, and moments later, the tingling hit my feet. I felt an explosion and saw a flash of light as an arc of electricity hit. When I landed several feet away, just before I lost conciousness, I heard **WE WILL MEET AGAIN**. | "Look, man. It's not that hard to wrap your head around. The scythe is yours. You're Death now. Grim Reaper. Moddey Dhoo, Charon, Mallt-y-nos, Anubis, whatever. You'll get a lot of names as cultures rise and fall, it's not that important. I had a favorite, but nobody around even remembers that name anymore. Important thing is, you're the man now. Leading lost souls to their afterlife and all that."
"I just don't get it. Why ME?"
It was huge. Like, impractically huge. How was he supposed to hold it? It was easily 30... no,40 feet tall. About even with Death's height. He was just as imposing, as well. He seemed to loom taller than the cottage's ceiling, yet he didn't have to crouch or otherwise change. He was just... Tall.
*What is it used for anyways? How does a scythe help with the reaping of souls?*, I thought to himself.
Death seemed to pick up on his thought process, because he let out another long sigh before continuing, as if he couldn't be bothered with such mundane questions.
"The scythe doesn't matter either. That changes too. Sometimes it's a regular farmer's scythe, sometimes it's all black and glowy and all that. Sometimes you won't even have a scythe. Everything changes. You'll get used to it. I wasn't always this tall, either. I was actually kind of just a void at certain points. Pretty funky. I can turn into a cup of salt water, if you like."
"But again, why ME?" I repeated, "All I do is gather the tribe's herbs and tend to the animals."
"No," he interrupted,"You *also* do a ton of role play with your soothsayer."
I turned 50 shades of maroon. I would always play with A'grith, since he was gifted with the power of illusion and usually just goofed around in pretend scenarios. Nobody knew about that but us. "What does that have to do with anything?"
"I enjoyed this job. At least, I have for the past few thousand years. In the ancient times, it was all 'ALAS, PLEASE SPARE ME', and I even got a bunch of free food and... other forms of entertainment. And for the last couple hundreds of years, most of the population never even thought about me. All I had to do was hang around lovely tropical islands, or meet with the occasional lunatic. It's quite relaxing after having to put on the whole shtick of weighing somebody's heart and having a dog-crocodile eat them if they lied."
"So what changed?" I asked.
"Well, as of late, I've been bothered constantly by the amount of stories I've been in."
"Excuse me?"
"It's part of the whole thing. Whenever I get put into a story, I have to act it out. I live through it. It's hard to explain. You kind of just have to go with it since it's part of what gives you your existence."
"I still don't get it. You're quitting because... of stories?"
Death groaned. "LOOK. The first thousands of years were fine. They were cool stories. I was a total BAMF in those. A force of nature. The great equalizer. Even in the kids stories, I was always unbeatable. You remember Appointment at Samarra?"
"No."
"...Right. My bad. But I loved that story. No matter how many times it's told, that last line is SO COOL. 'Because.... I had an appointment with you in Samarra.' SO COOL! But now, every other day I'm being called into new stories, and the scripts aren't nearly as good! It's always either WAY too flowery or WAY too casual. There's no middle ground. It's like Death is a tale told by an idiot or something. And half the time, I'm forced to pretend I'm giving away my powers to some nobody who's clearly a self insert power fantasy character. Where's the good roles? I deserve to be in better stories! How come those old farts from Egypt get awesome high budget action flicks and I'm stuck with a load of artsy hisper types? And the worst part is, every time this happens, I pray to Me that it's the real deal and I get to finally escape this Hell, but it never is, and before I know it, I'm being torn away from Acapulco again to star in some B-list script which was clearly thrown together in 10 minutes."
"I still don't quite follow."
"Whatever. The prompt doesn't say you have to agree to it. You seem to enjoy being the edgy antagonist and all that, so maybe you'll get a kick out of it. Either way, here's the scythe, enjoy the powers. Have a nice day."
And just like that, Death was gone. Memories flowed into my mind. Ancient languages, cities, civilizations, religions, magics, sciences, musics, stories... they all came flooding in like half-chewed food being swallowed down in sizes far too large for my throat to handle. But it came clear to me that I was now the Grim Reaper. I had become Death, destroyer of worlds. This wasn't pretend. This wasn't a play with A'grith and the animals where I'd slay the great beast, Ernest the chicken. This was real. I felt my first calling, towards a land of great wealth and power. Worlds slowly trickled into my mind...
*You live in an ancient world, when somebody turns 18, they will....*
Ah, shit. | 2019-02-28T23:31:05 | 2019-02-28T23:15:38 | 142 | 70 |
[WP] It's 1997 and you're a hacker. Not just any hacker, you're elite. You finally get to meet your hero. Turns out he's a nutbag who tells you the world is a computer simulation and is trying to get you to take random pills. | “What.“
“You heard me.”
I let my eyes scan around for a second if anyone else in the diner had heard what s3cr3tspr1t3 just had said. No one had looked up from their plates. I looked back at the man with the unkempt head of hair in front of me who hasn’t looked away the whole time or probably even blinked once since he sat down in front of me.
“You’re high.”
“I’m awake, man!”
What did i expect from a man who keeps calling himself “s3cr3tspr1t3” in public. You could actually hear the numbers when he said it. I started to get what people say about meeting your heroes.
“So, let me get this straight” i said putting my cup of coffee to my lips “This isn’t real. We are living in a simulated Brooklyn diner, the blueberry pie i just had is a simulation, my coffee is a simulation, the lady who took my order is a simulation, along with my job, my apartment, and my cat.”
“I don’t know about the cat, but yeah.”
I took a sip of my coffee, mustering the face of the man i tried tracking down for months, the man whose handle is all over the forums.
It tasted strangely bitter.
“Why.”
“You couldn’t possibly comprehend! It’s way up, man, way up. It’s been going on for a long time, the people who run the program have a plan but i see them now, i learned to see them!”
He broke his gaze and flicked his head towards the entrance where two men in suits had entered, chatting about something i couldn’t hear over the clatter of cutlery and plates in the busy diner.
His eyes followed them to a booth way out of earshot, but that didn’t seem to ease his mind.
“If this is a simulation, why would our admin overlords need gumshoe style henchmen to eavesdrop on our conversation?” I quipped.
“You don’t understand at all, it’s the suspension of disbelief, it’s not that easy...”
“Okay, s3cr3tspr1t3, my lunch break is almost over. I’m heading back to work. This was...an eye opening experience.”
I hardly concealed my disappointment with whom was supposed to be my hacker idol.
“This will make you see too.”
He had put a small plastic bag with a single unmarked pill on the table. His red eyes were locked on mine.
“What the fuck is this now.”
“You will see it too.”
“Get help, man.”
I picked up my jacket from the empty seat next to me. He made no attempt to stop me getting up. I put a bill on the table and took a few steps towards the door.
I stumbled.
“Wha...?”
My vision felt distorted all of a sudden. My hands and feet felt like they belonged to someone else.
“Wh...what the fu...?” I mumbled as i turned my head to look back at s3cr3tspr1t3.
He was still sitting at the table, grinning as he put my almost empty coffee cup to his lips and finished it.
Over the noise of the other patrons i could only make out the words as he formed them with his lips.
“You will see it too.”
Infinitely slowly i fell into darkness. | I sighed. “Look, when you say I need random pills because it’s a simulation, you’re basically wasting air and time. You’re talking shit and I really don’t want to hear it”
Bill just furrowed the face. “I said it’s LIKE a simulation because you have the attention span of a gnat and wouldn’t understand or believe the whole story. And by random pill, I meant the world isn’t nearly as random as you think, if you hit a certain level. In fact, it’s so not-random at our level that the old saying ‘nothing is a coincidence’ actually starts to make complete sense. And the whole -not random - messes with your mind. That’s why you need something like a random pill”
I grunted. I still listened but couldn’t be assed saying anything because it still had the ring of bullshit.
“Fred, no shit. You have to trust me on this. Assume nearly everyone you meet is there as a result of non-random, rather, frequently engineered reasons. And what’s more - they are there to try engineer you - your behaviour. Your decisions. When you see someone with a green shirt, they probably want you to think green. When a really damn noisy car goes past you, it’s almost certainly because you did something that really, truely, honestly sent the wrong message. It’s not random. It’s engineered. And YOU and your brain is the target.”
“Bill, you are full of shit. I’m not listening to another word.” I said.
Bill didn’t just furrow this time. He actually spat, sat up in the chair, and slammed his fist on the table. “That’s the problem with you. That’s WHY it’s not random. You refuse to listen to common sense when people talk to you normally. You stonewall. And certainly don’t let them get their message out clearly. And you never take hard action from the advice you get. So, I’m promising you - the shit you think is random absolutely isn’t. The world is trying to get to you bud. And it’s killing me to know that it’s been going on for years and you’re still not paying attention. So, change your habits. Make them - weird. Be fast, and be random enough yourself that you can’t readily be a daily target for mindhackers with orange shirts or freaks on motorbikes or horns that rep themselves. If you see enough random shit in life maybe you’ll learn to distinguish between true random, and people trying to get into your mind operating at the near-edge of random.”
Bill stood up and stormed out of the room. I heard him pissing in the loo. Over the stream of piss I called out “nice random sound champ, that’s really healing to me.” With that I promptly looked back at my book.
He came back in.
“Fred, hey, you won’t forget I just told you all that will you?”
I sighed, annoyed at being disturbed while reading.
“No, Bill, sorry for being a prick about it but it’s just a lot of stories. People don’t just mill about you wearing green T-shirts to hack your mind. I’m a hacker, remember! And they sure as hell don’t beep car horns or drive Harley Davidson motorbikes to annoy you exclusively. It’s random man. I don’t need a random pill dude, it’s you that needs one.”
...
3 years later Bill died. It’s hard. Because it was only a few years after that when i realised everything he told me in that exchange was true. You do hit a point, some people, some times, for certain reasons, where others will blow thousands to millions of dollars just to get a message across. I mean, in hindsight, as an elite hacker, I should have realised I was being hacked IRL. It was just, so - so removed from reality. Because it was reality.
All those people, all those I saw strut. What the fuck. To think many of them were there just for me. Just because they couldn’t get to me. Because they needed me to know, they needed me to realise. But it was impossible for them to actually say anything.
I still blame myself for Bill to this day. He died, and was the only one who actually though to try put the actions of all those around me into words. He deserved better from me. If I had listened, perhaps he might be alive today.
Call it random, call it engineered. Call it a busy day of bustling and everyone doing their thing for themselves or call it all done all just for you. Just remember and know that some people call it god, and I’m not one to disrespect the simplification anymore. I’m committed. I’m now a scientist. I’m going to improve on it.
Because, there is an edge, you see, the edge of random and not random. You’ll only see it sometimes, and some people will never see it. But when you realise how that edge looks, and you think of your past, you’ll also know.
Some need a random pill. Because they are immersed in not-random. The not-random doesn’t realise that random exists, and not-random forgets that it’s not-random and becomes self-sustaining. Like a machine of perfectly evil; a chaos of self-replicating, organised and engineered non-random.
For those about to be trapped, the random pill might work. But randomly, you might want to try a non-random pill.
Message ends. This brain hack took an hour to write, but a lifetime to be made. It’s my first. People have died. Not just Bill. Value my message. Pay attention. Take action. Think. And never assume, but never forget how, by practicing it and testing the results. Search for your answers. Share them. Elite team out. | 2019-03-18T01:48:16 | 2019-03-17T23:38:20 | 80 | 27 |
[WP] Your free trial for life has ended, but to everyone's surprise, you are the first to figure out how to get a premium subscription, leaving the Grim Reaper very, very confused.
EDIT: wow I didn't expect this to get more than 7 upvotes | The sound of his voice like rocks ground together
"It's time to join me, to leave this mortal tether"
Dark cloak billowing, though there wasn't a breeze
Bony hand extended out, the air began to freeze
The man had been pierced through his gut with a spear
He called for his twin, in pain with fear.
Somehow still the reaper could not take him,
though the all the light in his eyes were now dim.
The man's sister ran to his body and she silently prayed
As the reaper growled and grew frustrated, the skies grayed
"You'll come with me now boy, there's nothing for you here"
But in the man's eyes there was now joy, not fear.
The man rose up on his feet, somehow wounds totally healed,
"What in Hades is that?" Death growled, hatred unconcealed
He replied with a point to the grey sky with a casual air
"My mom fucked a goose, my dad's important up there" | I slowly turn the handle, and push the door open. Of course it creaks. All old doors do. I'm wary. I never like it when an appointment isn't scheduled. Most people think I love my job, but it is my own personal hell. I descend the the wooden staircase into the basement, scared of what I might find down here. Every second stair creaks with age, and as I finally leave the staircase, I see the light flooding round the corner.
I brace myself for the view as I enter the room, the light blinding to my eyes. "Good evening Taylor"
As my eyes adjust I see the young man, skin pale from lack of sunlight, suit of black, one might describe him as a Vampire, if such things existed. Yet he wasn't dead, and this shocked me, nearly as much as him knowing my name.
"I invited you here, because I needed to speak to you before tomorrow."
"Tomorrow?" I was struggling to stay confident, it was not everyday you met a man like this.
A sly smile "I believe tomorrow, or perhaps the day after, was our original appointment."
I pulled my notebook out of the pocket on my left side, I flipped to tomorrow, and I had only appointment in this state. "Elon?" such an unique name.
"That's right, Taylor, and now lets talk about why I invited you here"
"Indeed young Elon, it's not everyday someone calls me early to talk. Infact, you are the first in history to call upon Death the night before you die"
"oh but you see, Taylor. I invited you here tonight, because I am not dying tomorrow. Infact, I won't ever die."
"Elon, you can't just"
"Shut up for a second," he cut me off as I tried to explain to the young hopeful, "I won't ever die, because I just upgraded to a premium subscription."
The idiot. There were only 2 immortal beings. God and Death. He couldn't just add another immortal being, it would destroy the universe. "Do you truly understand what you are asking for Elon?"
"Uhh yeah. the chance to spend eternity forever improving the human race"
I pull my hood off, i drop the stupid stick with the hook, "you don't know what this means. I just hope someone frees you in the next few millenium or so, and that you don't have to wait aslong as me"
"frees me? this IS freedom"
"Yes Elon. You are free. Free to reap the souls of the dead for the rest of eternity. You have taken my place as Death. There is no changing this fact. You must visit every soul that dies. You must see every horrible death, every tragic accident, every cruel act of violence. It is your curse to live for eternity, but to see the death of every other being.
I will honour you and live out a life of achievement. I will take humanity to the stars, so that your name may be honored."
Elon just looked at me, what little colour his face had, quickly draining away. Before he had time to move, my cloak and hood embraced him. He was no longer Elon, but Death. He had taken on a fate worse than death, in an attempt to avoid it. But I would honour him. I am no longer Taylor. I am Elon, Elon Musk. And I will take humanity to the stars. | 2019-04-15T04:58:53 | 2019-04-15T03:00:22 | 100 | 58 |
[WP]“Dear Sir Knight, after the recent attacks by the dragons who claim they need to see their princess’ heir, we have come to believe you may have misread our request to slay the dragon.” Having read the letter, you take one surprised look at your wife and her half-dragon child. “Whoops” | *From the desk of Notary Lancelot:*
*Dear Sir Knight,*
*After the recent attacks by the dragons who claim they need to see their princess's heir, we have come to believe you may have misread our request to slay the dragon. To put it simply, an investigation showed that the dragon remains alive, though the location of said dragon is not definitive. The dragons with which we have had contact have spoken of a certain knight who* *~~had se~~* *made a family with the dragon against which you were contracted. Please contact us at once regarding this matter. The violent dragons are becoming difficult to deal with and we would like to resolve this conflict as soon as possible.*
*Lancelot*
\*\*\*
*Dear Notary Lancelot,*
*I feel like such an idiot.*
*I may have slightly misread your letter earlier that ordered me to* slay *the dragon. Actually, "misinterpreted" would be a better word. Elvera, Queen of Serpents, and I have created a . . . peaceweaver, of sorts. We believed at the time that an offspring could connect our two peoples, dragons and humans, and create a new era of peace. I thought that might have been your intention as well, sir. Elvera is also a fantastic cook and the hearth is never cold. Not that I* *~~am in love~~* *like the dragon in any way except for a professional admiration for her devotion to her species, a devotion which mirrors my love for humanity.*
*Sincerely,*
*Sir Knight*
*P.S. Since you have been such a great friend, we thought we should invite you to our wedding on November 26th. You should have received an eInvite at your old email, since I don't have your new one.* | "Whoops" Was all the Knight could say... even though they missgendered her, again.
The young woman sighed, She was one of the only female knights, yet they still referred to her as Sir. Well, it didn't bother her anymore.
The young Woman was KC Flameheart, her last name was from her Wife. Her short brown and crimson hair was a mess, her Chocolate brown and crimson red eyes narrowed.
"Hunny? What's wrong?" Said another young woman. She had tanned skined, silky red hair and golden eyes with slit pupils. There were two red horns on her head and red scales that faided into pink were spead scarcely around. The young woman had a long white dress on as she looked at KC with concern.
The young knight sighed yet again. "It's nothing Love, it just seems that your bastard of a father finally wants to see his grandchild..." KC looked at her wife, *'Thank God my sister knows magic, or else I wouldn't have been able to marry this Dragonett or have my kid.'*
"KC, hunny, you know he's the king, he's busy most of the time." The young Dragon-turned-half-human said.
"Ruby, He didn't come when Flair was born." KC said as she looked at her wife.
"I know, but Father is a very busy dragon." Ruby said, trying to reason with her wife.
"Flair is Six for the love of god, he hasn't seen his Grandchild for the six years she's been alive." KC started. "He didn't come after she was born, to any holiday's or reunions, not even to any of Flairs birthdays." KC said, as she crossed her arms.
Ruby sighed, she walked towards KC and wraped her arms around her. "I know, and that really pissed you off... but try to calm down, my father isn't the best and you know that." Ruby smiled up at KC.
The Knight sighed, as her right arm encircled her wifes waist. "I know, he's a bastard after all..." She mumbled, before she kissed her wife on the lips. "But, since he's finally trying, I'll forgive him for now."
"Thanks." Ruby said as she hugged KC. KC smiled and hugged her Wife back.
**"WE'RE BACK!!"** They heard someone yell as the door was heard opening in a slam.
Ruby giggled and KC shook her head.
"Looks like my sisters are back from their day with Flair." KC said, as she took her arms away from her wife and walked towards the living room, Ruby following behind.
"Mama! Mom! I'm home!" A young girl, with Golden wide eyes, brown with red short hair ran towards the couple. The kid had some red scales like her mama, and two red horns. The young girl jumped into the Knights arms.
"Haha! I know, welcome back Kiddo." KC said, before she kissed her daughter on her head.
"Heyah Sis!" Sishi called out. Sishi was one of KC's sisters. She was pale with light brown hair and green eyes. She wore the normal attire for a Knight, only with her staff strapped to her back.
Next to Sishi was Pan, pale skin and ebony hair and onyx eyes. She also wore armor, like the Knight she was, with her sword strapped to her back.
"Pan, Sishi, hey guys, What's up?" KC said, as she put her daughter down, who went and hugged her mama, and smiled at her sisters.
"Nothing much..." Sishi started. "So, we heard that bastard of a Father-in-law you have, has been wanting to see Flair."
"Yep, well... You two mind going with me to go and get him?" KC asked.
"Not at All, sis." Pan answered.
"Thanks guys, give me a second to get my gear." KC said, before going to her room, she kissed her wife again.
"Love birds~" Sishi sang.
"Shut up!" Ruby exclaimed to her Sister-in-law, as her face went red.
Flair looked at her mama before giggling.
"What a happy family we are..." Pan mumbled to herself as she watch Sishi cooing at her niece. | 2019-09-01T11:47:17 | 2019-09-01T10:05:32 | 101 | 42 |
[WP] You are a superhero sidekick that everyone thinks can predict the future. You actually can't predict the future. You're just the only person who can hear the background music. | It was just another day, more agencies trying to get you to join them whilst you were just trying to live life. With a sigh, you stretch in your seat.
"Another call from an agency?" Your senior called with a chuckle, to which you grimaced.
"Why do you even ask me? You already know the answer." You slouch back down in your seat as you look over your desk. It was a mess of papers, reports and missing persons files among many other things. It's your job to choose the next mission based on what you think should be dealt with first.
Usually you'd do that, but today you'd take it easy. A simple task of finding someone's missing items.
"Whatever, just get ready to go. I've got our next mission."
Your senior just nods their head and moves to the changing room whilst you try and organize your desk just a bit before you had to leave.
It wasn't long before the both of you were out and on your way to meet the owner of the stolen items.
"What do ya see kid?" Your senior questioned jokingly. "Are we gonna find those missing items?"
"Haha very funny, you know I can't actually see the future." You said as began walking towards the meet up point. Your senior raised a brow, stopping in their tracks and crossing their arms.
"Oh? You always seem to know when bad things are gonna happen. You're psychic, you just don't want to admit it."
You shrug, walking past them unbothered. "No I'm not. Its just- "
That's when you heard a choir. The kind you'd hear in a church. It was both quiet and haunting. That doesn't sound like anything good.
"You know what, I am psychic, and my abilities are telling me we should go back to the office."
You turn around and choose to not look back. Your partner, though a little shock does the same.
Next day on the news you saw how there was a mass genocide at where you were supposed to meet with the owner. Bullet dogged. | “You’re telling me the answer is in a note from 2013?”
Exhausted, Atlan countered,
“No! For the last time the answer isn’t anywhere! I swear to god if you keep asking me to cite my answer I’m gonna go crazy.”
“Well, listen. I am Googoo and people need me to tell them what to think! My reputation hinges on it. I’m sorry that you feel like I overshadow you.”
“I swear Dennis, if you call your self by your superhero name in front of me I’ll never help you again.”
“OK OK, sorry. All of this mask talk has me thinking even regular joes need to hide their identity. Tell me about that picture though?”
“I wasn’t telling you about a picture, I was telling you about a note.”
“Aight bet. Tell me about that then?”
“Well, since I trust that you will only do what’s right with this information, and not take it to any unatural conclusion, it was the first time I smoked weed.”
“Atlan! For the last time if you don’t get to the point!”
“Steve. Dude. Chill. It’s really not that serious.”
“But you keep building up to this great unveiling of information but never give me a through line!”
“And that’s it! That’s the through line!”
About to lose his cool, Googoo stands up in frustration.
“K. Tell me what I want to know... or I will have to find a new right hand man.”
Calmly Kenny replies,
“Steve, I don’t hold what you are looking for, you’ll just be disappointed. I’m scared you may react negatively to what my note was.”
Googoo pauses for a second. He thinks about what Kenny is saying, but he cannot stop his line of inquiry.
“The public is in DANGER. Atlan, you have held my hand and helped me do truly monumental things. We are talking about the greater good!”
Looking slightly disappointed Kenny replies.
“No, we are talking about a note on my phone Steve. You really are projecting right now. But I will tell you what you want to know so badly, but you have to promise me one thing.”
Taken slightly aback, Steve replies,
“Well, I mean, I guess if you insi-“
Atlan interrupts Dennis.
“You have to promise you won’t cry.”
Infuriated, Dennis replies,
“You think I would EVER let my emotions CLOUD MY JUDGEMENT?”
Quietly Kenny replies,
“Yes.”
“Well ok FINE. I promise I won’t cry, please tell me the exact contents of your note.”
“Well shit man, I didn’t think this would become such a big deal. Now you have your reputation on the line for something as trivial as the conclusion I came to the first time I smoked weed.”
“ATLA-“
“I know I know, I’ll tell you.... so I was high, and feeling some type of groove ya know? So I drew a picture of a guy surfing in my notes app. Under that picture, I wrote ‘everything is waves.’ Thats it man..... and I know it’s hard to process, but I warned you not to get worked up about it! That idea plagued my mind for the rest of my life. When I started learning the laws of nature, they really didn’t seem wavy enough, but I took my teachers word for it. That was enough for the time being. Then we started talking about quantum entanglement and it all came back to me. The simple note I wrote in my phone gave me exactly as much solace as a PhD in physics. I don’t know how else to say it man, everything is waves.”
Atlan looked down. He felt ashamed that he had let Steve get so worked up. After all, they were childhood friends. They were always on the same page about matters of moral truth. But Atlan feared that this vibe check may be his last as Atlan. He would have to go back to being just Kenny. Not that there is anything wrong with that, but he had come to love the vicarious power of his relationship with Googoo. He had come to believe they really could right the wrongs of those that came before. And worst of all,
he had come to think that they were the only ones who could. He thought for a second, then lifted his gaze which set on Dennis’ face.
He was weeping. | 2020-08-26T16:09:09 | 2020-08-26T16:05:48 | 141 | 36 |
[WP] A person's superpowers emerge during- and relate to- a highly stressful moment in their life. Your brother nearly drowned, and as a result could shape water to his will. A classmate fell from a high balcony, and ended up learning to fly. You? You just got your powers last night. | I don't want to go to school...
Perhaps I can get away with not telling anyone? No, they'll be asking as the months go by; "You know what it is yet?"
I don't know how I'm going to answer. Why couldn't I be more careful? This is just embarrassing. My best mate can read minds anyway... I'm done for.
I'm going to be the laughing stock of the town, and all I had to do was be normal. Just chew my food properly. Maybe if I create another high stress situation it'll change? No, you know it doesn't work like that, stop. Think. Okay, the power of regurgitation? Jesus Christ, you're an idiot.
There's no way this can be cool. This is it, forever. This is my calling, my special ability, I can voluntarily bring up any food I've eaten, whole.
Choking is terrifying, the panic just overwhelmed me alright? | My breathe scratched and ran out of my throat, as I saw the shapes in my mind emerge from the closet.
“It’s not real it’s not real it’s not real it’s not real” is the only thing that kept me sane, repeating it over and over in my mind. The creature of the night standing above me and staring at me, their eyes haunting and scarring me for life. I always had this stupid, cursed creature above me and around me. I don’t know if it’s related to my fear of the dark or magic, or if there’s something seriously wrong with me, but god I hate it.
Most nights are fine. It’s scary, but it’s fine. But tonight, he’s moving. It’s moving. And there are more creatures, spewing from my drawers and closet and bed. Tears spread down my cheeks, too scared to speak or move, praying to God that I make it out okay.
But then, the light spread across.
Something awakened in me.
Red pierces my eyesight, and the colours form. My room is a red and white cave of sorts. Crystals decorate empty space, with beautiful flowers I’ve never seen before hanging off the walls and roof of the cave-like structure. Creatures that were previously chatting look at me and smile. New creatures, not like the one I dealt with. Gentle, sweet, pleasant. Pastel colours and dark ones too.
“Hi.” The ruby one speaks to me, her blacked out eyes complimenting her red dress covered in light flowers. Her skin smooth and pearly white.
“...Where is this?” I calmly ask, slightly surprised that I feel so calm here.
“A place. I’m Tae” She smirks. “We call it Nomia, and you would call it the Other World. This isn’t the place you came from, obviously.” Tae tries to explain it the best she can. “It’s a hub. A place for all the special people who can access this place.” I glance at the other people around. I see a boy playing with a fake spider, hinting at why he may have so many eyes on his head. A person hanging off the wall, making a ‘warm’ impression to me, since she was made of only lava and fire.
“This is....a place for people who can access it? A select few?” I look back to Tae. She’s distracted by a tablet.
“Ah. You are from a world of people with powers, right?” Tae says, eyes glued to the tablet.
“Yeah...how did you-“
“The tablet tells me” She quickly responds. “I’m sort of a person who helps others who are new here, so I get told this sort of thing.”
I think carefully, sorting through the most important questions. “How do I get back? What do I say this place is? How is this-“ I’m cut off.
“Close your eyes and say you want to go back. Easy” Tae answers my first question with ease. “What do you say this place is? That’s a harder one.”
She thinks for a moment, and lights up, throwing the tablet to the wall.
“Home.”
(Sorry if it’s bad, I wrote it very quickly and it’s the first one I’ve written) | 2021-04-01T02:44:08 | 2021-03-31T21:40:54 | 67 | 37 |
[WP] A Vampire's appearance will shift to resemble that which they feed on the most. Trust not the ones who are visions of human beauty - for friends they are not. Instead seek those with a monstrous countenance such as that of rats, lizards or even insects because those are our true friends. | Anna couldn't push herself to run any further. She stopped against a tree, breathing so hard it hurt. She looked back, but didn't see any sign of that monster. Just trees, extending for miles in all directions. She was totally lost. The sun was going to set soon, and that could be very dangerous. But she couldn't exactly retrace her steps.
She thought about the friend she left behind, and felt sick for it. Her name was Diane, and although they'd only just met, she acted friendly, and she invited Anna to stay in her cabin before she continued on her travels. They were just on the way there, when Anna saw something terrifying hiding among the trees only a dozen strides off the path. It had the head of a wolf, but it stood on two feet. And it was massive, like a bear. Maybe it was a bear. Just a trick of the light that turned a common hazard into supernatural terror that was almost upon them. A better person would have said something so they could flee together safely, then sleep soundly that night knowing they saved somebody. But Anna, in her panic, only thought about herself. The moment she noticed those canine eyes staring back at her, she ran.
_I'm so sorry, Diane_, she thought to herself. She started to tear up. She didn't know how close she'd come to becoming Diane's next meal. Vampires are cunning creatures. In Anna's mind, she was mere minutes away from the safety of Diane's cabin in the woods. She prayed for protection against the monster that would see her dead without understanding who that monster was.
Her breath caught at the sounds of footfalls nearby. Anna curled up her legs, trying to stay quiet, to stay hidden behind the tree. Another footfall, leaves crunching underneath. It was something bipedal, walking towards her. It was walking, slowly, carefully. Anna tried to control her breathing, when she was out of breath only moments before. Those footsteps were getting closer and closer. Anna clenched her eyes shut.
"There you are." It was Diane's voice. Anna opened her eyes. There she was, not a scratch on her. If anything, she looked too good. Her fair skin was smooth as a child's; her platinum blonde hair was trimmed short, not a tangle in sight. Those wide eyes and warm smile did not judge her for running away. Such beautiful, intense eyes, blue and bright as the noon sky, even as the forest grew dark. Anna burst into tears.
The moment was interrupted by a second set of footsteps. Much heavier and faster. Diane looked to the side, smile still on her face. The monster crashed into her. | It could have been the rise to the beautiful upper class society for Maria. Born and raised in the suburbs of some big city, she never suffered any financial worries, but always hoped to climb the social ladder, go from average to great, from secure to filthy rich. She wasn't exactly jealous of those living in golden towers, but she had been born with disproportionate amounts of pride and would accept no less for herself.
Today's world was spun by finance and analysts, Maria entered a business school fast and built herself a network to possess some wires to play with. There, she had a closer look at how ruthless and opportunistic she had to become. Generosity and kindness were rarely rewarded, quite the opposite, greed and aggression got her praise and thanks from CEO's and managers and loathing from bottom rank workers. But that was a necessity lest she joined the bottom ranks too. Very little in life is fair, that's the thought Maria hid behind whenever remorse came.
But tonight, her dream was about to come true. A vision of people whose beauty was matched only by their intelect and riches, accepting her into the fold.
From the top of the tower, the city knelt for them as they sipped costly champaign. Maria was sized up, tested, prodded, and passed it all with flying colors. The smiles turned aggressive, vicious, the gleam and the masquerade fell to reveal vultures reveling in the blood of newcomers, hateful of them, scared to lose their hard-earned places.
Maria went from holding an expensive drink on the terrace to being cornered by monsters hidden under pristine skin. Her blood, her obedience. A refusal would mean losing it all, losing more than what she gained, falling into some forgotten ditch of society. Most accepted thralldom, if only to still their jealousy and transfer the pain to those beneath. Maria was not jealous, she was proud. Pushing the fiends away, she left the tower, followed by evil laughter and vicious sneers.
They held the promise. She was laid off, lost her companion, her reputation, her network. One after the other, from the greatest achievement to the smallest of hobbies, she lost it all.
It wasn't long until she stood in front of her house, now inhabited by another family. She had nowhere to go. Maria set off at random, and for the first time, took notice of those she had only given disdain all her life. Beggars, old drinkers at the bar, smokers on the balcony that seemed to never do anything else... The dirt, the ugly, the poor, and all of them hiding smiles. But why?
A rat-faced man crossed her path. It was no figure of speech, his elongated nose, sharp teeth and thin jaw made him look like a rodent. He waved her over and opened a grate.
In the dirty sewer it stank and rank, the lights played monstrous shadows on the walls and the feet sploshed in the mud. Seurat the painter, for that was the name of the rat-faced man, had decorated every wall in the labyrinth. Grapes picked by hooded farmers in warm Spain, an angel falling from the sky, an age of revelry with drinkers sitting at a table with Dionysos... And another painting, and another, it never ended.
The show didn't either. Children ran around playing wolf, adults carried crates of fruit from the surface and made pie with it in well-equipped makeshift kitchens, disheveled scholars taught little ones how to read, count and make use of these skills.
The rejects of society had lost the need to lie and play a role.
Up there, paragons of beauty hated them and did their best to forget about this stain's existence. Yet their presence alone was a constant reminder that no amount of gold could protect from a fall forever. And when happens, when the mighty hit the dirt and lose everything, they will be at the same level as the poor and the downtrodden, laughing and being merry, while the fallen cry.
Seurat took her by the hand and led her through the labyrinthian sewer. Some abandonned parts had been refurbished into absurd homes, bright green and blue tapestries blanketing the walls, in the corner a pile of pillows hid a sleeping woman with the bulk of a bear, dim neon lights washed the scene in shades of red and purple.
And as he led her, deeper and deeper into a forgotten world, he spoke.
"Dance, you who could have had it all and lost it, for you haven't lost yourself. Drink and sing with us under the earth, speak to the moon and feed the stray dog, contemplate the sea and be kind. Smile, for that is the gold of your existence, and the only good you will take in death."
Before Maria knew, her hand was grasping at the air. Her guide had abandoned her in a domed room that must have been far away from the city, for the hollowed out roof opened into a bright night sky. Spectators were laying warm under piles of blankets. Someone waved at her and pointed to a free place.
She made herself comfortable and let the night ballet play its piece until it carried her to sleep. | 2021-05-31T01:15:42 | 2021-05-31T00:23:51 | 281 | 67 |
[WP] You're living in a world where superpowers exist, and you're the most dangerous individual of all. Your power? You project an aura where all the laws of reality/normality assert themselves. You are the anti-super | What happens when the unstoppable force meets the immovable object? They surrender.
\-Superman
Day 4
I look towards the horizon. Just beyond my power limit, I see more heroes converging. Dawn's arriving on day 4 since the news got out that I am the last anti, and the day the only other anti super besides me died. There used to be more of us, but no one likes being forced to be average again. The only reason I survived this long was that I chose to keep a low profile and live a modest life.
Most of my comrades were enlisted in various government agencies. They were the ultimate contingency plan for leaders in a super world. However, we were deemed obsolete after the creation of anti-weapons. It didn't take long for our eradication to begin without protection from the governments we once served. Within 3 yrs there were only 30 of us. Our population had been brought down to 1% of what it had been at my birth.
I became our leader at that time as I was the only one that had managed to evade ever being targetted. It became critical to teach the rest of my people to live quietly and fight viciously. Unfortunately, this concept was too foreign to them, and so they failed. It was less than a year before we were down to two.
Suddenly, a tremor makes the ground shake beneath me. I scan the surrounding desert for the perpetrator for a moment before spotting her. She makes it clear that she's a fledging elemental. All her moves are so exaggerated, it takes no effort to counter them. I could extend further, inform her that she's in my range, but I won't. I learned long ago that mercy is a quick path to death for an anti. Instead, I choose to wait until every rock, tremor, and gust of wind almost finds me before extinguishing the power flow.
Soon the girl starts to show signs of tiring. Sand is my preference for that. It takes more effort to control than dirt, like water. It's also much denser than water, making it require more effort ounce for ounce. Most elementals do not master it for those reasons. I can't help but smirk as she starts to drag a stone from the depths of the sand and raises it above her head. That was a fatal mistake.
All at once, I extinguish the power around me in a circle large enough to engulf her. She doesn't have time to scream before there's a heavy thud from the stone returning to earth. There was no sickening crunch either, just a heavy thud. No trace of the fledging left to show. This just makes me smile more. I don't like a mess.
A few more random fledglings approached me that day, some alone, some in groups. Unfortunately, I wasn't able to dispatch them all as neatly as the first. The older ones did not dare to come within 3 miles of me. They remembered what it was like sparring with us. They understood that I'd remained alive the longest for a reason.
They don't know it, but part of the reason I have endured so well is that my family was exceptionally blessed with power. I was the youngest of 6 children. Each was gifted from a unique power field from the next, me being the only anti. Our parents believed it was in our best interests to hone our skills as early as possible. As such, I grew up sparring with an elemental, a morph, a mentalist, an athletic, and a magician. We mastered our powers together. I have yet to encounter a scenario that we hadn't simulated before reaching the age of 18.
I scanned the horizon as the sun began to dip behind distant peaks. It had been quiet for a while now. Time to move away from this mess. It felt like that's what I'd been doing my whole life. I wondered if anyone had noticed my other secret as I trudged the rapidly cooling sands. I've been experimenting for years now and realized something about my powers. As my brethren were being irradicated, my power steadily increased. When my last anti-sister died, it doubled.
I had decided to wait until tomorrow to see if there were any limitations now. This morning I pushed a thin tendril of anti-power around the planet, creating a ring of regular people around the world for one minute. It didn't feel like increasing its size would be a challenge. Nor was maintaining it. I'm eager for the morning. It's time for the world to face the consequences of the genocide of my people.
Day 5
It worked
&#x200B;
Edit: About 20 spaces
Edit 2: Tremor is not a verb.
Edit 3: I am so grateful for the gold, thank you, stranger! | I spin the wheel of my steel and whatever vehicle. It’s a giant thing, can say for sure it’s made out of steel, but also a bunch of random crap as well. Stuff that didn’t exist on the periodic table before the Super Revolution. The government supplied it to me, so why should I know what it’s made out of? I quickly end my inner monologue about my tank, realizing that I have arrived at my job, I park between the bright yellow lines, making my vehicle screech to halt. It’s got some nice braking for such a big fella. Somebody comes up to me, asking for identification. I ignore that person, I’m the boss here, nobody should need to identify me at this point. Couldn’t care less about their safety, I’m am the walking embodiment of safety. Grumbling I walk through the sliding steel doors. I’m greeted by my assistants, Pam and Derek.
“Sir, it is not advisable for you to be walking without a protection Super near you, the risk of guns is simply too high,” Pam drones.
“I concur, Supers are not a threat, but guns are certainly a danger,” Derek mentions dryly.
“Yeah, yeah, whatever just get me to my office.”
They lead me to the back of the blindingly white room we’re in. Is there much of purpose to the giant room? Not really, but it was built just in case someone with a power that makes them giant comes in here. But it is a giant waste of my time, having takes way to long walking across the room. Halting my train of thought, I realize I am having them lead me. I storm in front of them, making them jump. I ain’t gonna have my assistants lead me, there my assistants for a reason. Soon I arrive at my office. The office door automatically opens for me, leading me to my familiar office. The one place in the building built entirely for me, that I could actually customize to my content. Naturally, scattered around the walls is some fishing memorabilia, some sports stuff, and personal stuff. I take a seat in my leather chair, practically melting into the seat. Rest, my favorite part of work.
“Go fetch me my first candidate,” I tell my assistants.
“Right away sir,” they reply, synchronization making me uncomfortable.
Making myself comfortable, I pull out my tablet out of my bag. Rubbing my hands excitedly, I turn it on. My favorite part of work, I mean it’s not really a proper job… it’s practically forced labor, freaking United Americas Federation. I pull up the video sent to me by someone less important than me. It shows me the video of subject getting captured. It’s a woman of short stature, her power is a passive. A power that is always active, seems to continually turn into spikes. And these aren’t your run of the mill spikes, they are quite big, a solid 3 feet in length. And there are maybe 15-20 at time. She was just standing around, in some sort of pain. Her neck is quite big, probably from dealing with an abnormal amount of hair. And… she fell over, it looks like she can’t even get up. So finally at this point of the tape emergency services come, and cover her head with a large helmet. Guess the hair spikes aren’t that sharp. So she’ll be here any minute.
I take a quick glance to her profile. I see that her condition has worsened this past year. Reaching the breaking point a little before the video was filmed.
I laze around for a little while, but soon I hear the familiar burst of noise that comes with many people.
I hear someone saying ”we have the patient with us.”
I sigh, and stand up. The woman on the stretcher with the oddly comedic helmet appears in front of me. Once she is set down, her helmet is taken off. Her hair is no longer turning into spikes.
“Ok she’s good,” I groan and say, “I am contractually obligated to you everyone in my vicinity how my power works. My aura sticks around someone for 2 years, 4 months, and 7 days. Through I can disable the whole sticking around part by my own will, so paramedics, you’re good. And the other lady is also good. Now please go, really don’t care much ‘bout that lady. I like my peace and quiet.
The paramedics leave, carrying a likely happy person. I hate monologuing, but I have to do every flippin time.
The days becomes a blur, like always, and all of sudden it’s an hour till I’m done. Suddenly flashing alarms go off.
An automated voice goes, “Intruder Alert.”
Honestly, something interesting happening, I’m not complaining. The automated systems will contain the intruder anyway.
Derek rushes to my side, “Please go to the safe room sir.”
“Ehhh… I’m good, this crap happened five million times.”
Nice thing about being essentially, is that people can’t force you to do that many things. So despite Derek’s incessant protests, I just take a nice seat. Watching some fun old archives of people with weird powers. Some people with shrinking heads, and some other weird stuff. Always enjoyable, but I see out the corner of my eye a head coming out of the wall, slowly turning into a full male body. Wait what, how… how… is their power not getting neutralized. Panic creeping over me, I step back.
I mumble,” how are you still using your power.”
The guy replies, “I have too many powers, please neutralize them, I beg you.”
I notice a Russian accent, and say, “ but… you’re power is not being neutralized right now, what do you want me to do?!”
Suddenly, I’m in the other persons body. And everything explodes in pain, My brain is screeching, ankles exploding, and just everything hurts. My eyes begin to pop out, hair growing, feet shirking. I feel tendons, muscles, all snapping. Every inch of my body is on fire, every nerve exploding. Soon I start to wonder how long the pain will last.
And then I’m back in my own body.
“Now that you have had taste of my pain, fix me,” the man tells me.
I focus the aura around me, it feels like water. I concentrate it all around the mans body. I hold it for what feels like eons. My body strains, my mind struggles to hold focus, but finally he breaks the silence.
He says, “stop, I am cured, thank you. I am free of my curse, at least for a little while.” He collapses on the ground. I take a deep breath and compose myself. I stand up, and am hit with a bout of curiosity. Taking a closer at his face, I confirm that he is of the Russian Federation. No wonder he had to sneak in here. I’ll have to find some way to sneak him out here. After my experience, I’ve realized something. Maybe, just maybe, my job is a good thing.
r/CascadeCorner | 2021-06-24T19:59:37 | 2021-06-24T18:29:49 | 775 | 33 |
[WP] You've been meowing at your idiot owner all freaking day, and he's just not listening, at all. It's become a test of endurance: Your patience, his willingness to ignore you, the ninja assassin's grip on the ceiling. | "Mwrraw."
If pressed, and able (or willing) to speak human, Fluffles would -- reluctantly -- concede that the present situation was not entirely her human's fault. He was, after all, just human. He was useful in some key respects -- freeing the dead fish from the metal boxes for her to eat, that was a particularly helpful one -- but he lacked mental agility and nuance to properly intuit cat communication. He just didn't get the difference between a "feed me" purr or a "pay attention to me" purr, couldn't distinguish the subtleties between "pamper me" and "spoil me", and just didn't get the complexities between "let me out now" and "let me out in about five, maybe seven minutes, you know, when I'm really good and ready, but definitely not now".
So honestly, Fluffles shouldn't have been totally surprised that he completely failed to understand "Hey, just so you know, I think there's a ninja on the ceiling above the couch, you should maybe probably think about doing something about that." It was probably too complicated for his brain to process.
"Mwrraw."
"Shut up, Fluffles," her human said in his unsophisticated monkey gibberish, "you've already been fed today."
The ninja didn't move. The ninja hadn't moved for as long as Fluffles had been paying attention, which could have been anywhere from five whole minutes to five whole hours. Fluffles was kind of impressed. She wouldn't admit it ever, though. She had a reputation to think of.
Fluffles' human just sat and kept watching the noisy window in the corner. It was making a particularly annoying noise this evening. There were other humans inside it, running around and shouting about something called a "terminator", but the word "Fluffles" hadn't come up so she'd decided it wasn't worth paying attention to. Every so often, the little black window next to her human made that annoying jingling sound (that reminded her, she really should knock it off the next high place her human put it down on; they made such satisfying tinkling sounds when they smashed on the floor) and he'd pick it up and speak into it for some reason, saying things like "shipments" and "Yakuza" and "take care of", but again "Fluffles" hadn't been mentioned so it presumably wasn't important.
The ninja seemed like he could be important, though.
"Mwrraw."
"Fluffles, shut up. I'm watching this."
For possibly the first time ever, Fluffles almost wished she was Dog. That was almost heresy, but still. If there was one thing Dogs did well -- and there wasn't, but go with the hypothetical here -- it was make a lot of noise. Annoying noise, the kind of noise that made you pay attention to something. Against a Dog noise, Fluffles' purrs were perhaps a bit... subtle. And while there were many occasions that called for subtlety and nuance -- making the distinction between wanting to be pampered versus wanting to be spoiled, for example -- warning your human about a ninja on the ceiling above him was probably not one of them.
Frankly, Fluffles was beginning to get a bit bored with the whole situation. The ninja, though she couldn't really tell behind his face covering, seemed to be getting a bit frustrated as well. His eyes were narrowed, and his hand were twitching around the claw-things he was using to hang on to the ceiling. In fact, the only one who seemed content at the moment was her human, which was a bit ironic as he was the one who should arguably have been the most upset at things. Instead, he just kept watching the noisy window. A metal human was stomping towards a lady human through a fire. Fluffles vaguely wondered how much tuna was in the metal human. It looked like it could have been a lot.
Not the time, Fluffles. Focus. First ninja, then tuna.
"Mwrraw."
"Do you wanna go out, Fluffles? Because I swear to God, you keep this up, you're going out."
"*Mwrraw*."
He really was incredibly dense. Whatever. She'd try once more and then find something else to do. It wasn't her problem anyway. So a ninja wanted to hang around on the ceiling. In fact, it looked like he might be moving on anyway; he'd let one of his claw things go and was slowly, patiently inching it inside his black costume. But still, her human *was* good at getting fish out of metal, so she owed it to him to try one last time...
"Mwrraw."
"That's it!" her human snapped. "I've had it with this shit. One more noise out of you and you're going out."
Oh, sod this for a game of chase-the-light. Fluffles was fed up. He could deal with the ninja himself, then, if that was how he was going to be. And he could forget about getting the next mouse she killed as well, after how dense he was being; that one was all hers.
And so she leapt off the couch onto the coffee table...
...and clattered uncaringly past her human's drink, spilling some of it (it was that nasty brown off-water he kept drinking, not as nice as milk)...
... And her human shouted angrily -- "Sonofa*bitch*!" -- and leaned forward to clean up the mess...
... And a razor-sharp shuriken sliced through the air inches behind him, right where his head had been moments before, and thudded noisily into the leather of the couch.
Fluffles' human stared stupidly at the shuriken with big wide eyes for a moment, before instinctively looking up right where it had come from. Right into the equally big, equally wide, equally stupid eyes of the ninja.
"What the *fuck*?!"
With a yell, the ninja let go of his grips and tumbled down, right on top of Fluffles' human. A hell of a fight broke out, the kind that would have made an amazing set-piece in an action film. Fluffles ignored it completely, and trotted irritably around the corner. Maybe there was a Dog nearby she could annoy. | # A Darker Sort of Kitten
The Emperor’s cat, if such a creature could be called that, stared up into the murky black with luminescent, moon-drenched eyes. Outside the walls of Carythusal, the great keep that housed the world as the saying went, the moon was a full, pregnant thing, and so too were the cat’s silver eyes. Tonight, they could pierce any darkness, and as they looked up into the tall, vaulted ceiling of the imperial bedchambers, that fact chilled Dinae’s blood.
“Send the beast away, my lord,” Dinae whispered, pressing her cheek into the hard planes of the Emperor’s chest. He chuckled, deep and sonorous, the reverberation tingling through her face. He was a large man, and a powerful one. The most dangerous person Dinae had ever met.
The Emperor swatted playfully at her hip. His hand lingered, moving lower. Every inch burned, every molecule of his skin that touched hers. Dinae hated being here, in the bedroom of the Emperor Ikurei, with all the passion she could bring to bear.
“Don’t malign dear Minnaloushe, sweetling,” he said, “you know my love of exotic things.”
“Of course, my lord,” Dinae whispered.
She kissed his chest. It was a presumption, to kiss him without a command, but that was why he called upon her.
Night after night Dinae had been washed and oiled, dressed and perfumed, by this man’s command. Night after night, silks rustling with every step, body rendered unwillingly supple by the eunuchs' ministrations, she had walked here and abased herself before the feet of the man who had enslaved her people, the poor, lost nation of Shigek.
Night after night, without awaiting the command, she made her way up from those sandaled feet, to the promise of continued life that lingered elsewhere in his body, lingered but would not stay, would never stay. Such things were the currency of the harem girls of Emperor Ikurei. Such things were now the currency of her life.
The cat still stared into the dark. He mewled softly, stretching out his long, hardly catlike body.
Minnaloushe had the head of cat, the four limbs and tail, but fur was an ever-changing thing for him, and at times the cat seemed to deem it not even worth the effort. Tonight was one such. When Dinae had arrived he had been orange, the color of the fire in the braziers nearest the Emperor’s bed. Then he’d been black, with silver, piercing eyes, as Dinae had turned to her work. She’d felt his eyes on her arched back, felt his judgment in the moments when her own burned brightest too.
Now he was scaled, all save the head, and the scales rippled with the promise of still later change. His small, lithe pair of wings stretched out, creaking with disuse, and the emperor reached to massage their joints as he knew the cat loved. It mewled louder, staring at him with intense certainty.
It had seen the man clinging desperately to the ceiling.
Dinae hadn’t, of course. Her eyes were mortal, as was her body. She only knew of the plan by what her contact had told her, one of the eunuchs in the harem, this one bound to the service of another, less favored girl. In his youth, he’d said, he had been a prince of Shigek. In his majority, he’d said, he’d see the conqueror’s demise. There were others like them, he’d said. Others well placed, willing to sacrifice themselves for the memory of their lost nation. If she could distract him. If she could provide the opening.
The Emperor could see the man if he chose. It would be child’s play for him, the whisper of a single spell and the rising tide of his world-breaking song that would sweep them all away, till only Minnaloushe lay in his bed, next to the thin line of ash that would once have been called Dinae.
Minnaloushe rose, licking his emperor’s hand, eyes darting back and forth between them.
“What is it, hmmm?” Emperor Ikurei said.
“Perhaps he’s seen a sparrow,” Dinae whispered. She’d crept her way up from the Emperor’s chest to his ear, spoke directly into it. She felt him shiver with the warmth of her breath.
“Perhaps,” he said, stifling a yawn. They got in through the Gods’ door from time to time.
“Sparrows. I’ve never ever understood the love your people have of them,” Dinae said.
“They are fine birds,” said the Emperor.
“But in such a simple way!” Dinae bit her lip, stifling her disgust and fear. She took the Emperor’s head in her hands, turning it towards her, letting the dark torrent of her hair fall across his chest.
“Do you not, my lord, prefer Ravens?” she said, using his small pet name for her.
He laughed again. Outside, the guards would wonder at the emperor’s mirth. He was not a man given to laughter, even here in his private chambers. It was one of the reasons he called her, coupled as it was with youth and with dangerous, shocking presumption.
She presumed to kiss him now. To thread her hands through his hair, to feel his arms wrap her, searching in the flickering firelight, his simple touch leaving bruises in her pale skin.
Minnaloushe mewled, forgotten, and when the Emperor rolled, his back to the vaulted black above, Dinae saw the cat’s silver moon eyes staring at her.
*Let him stare,* Dinae thought, *let them both stare, and let the man in the rafters too for all I care.*
*But let us act, all of us, for the last time.*
The emperor moved, bending towards her, and the assassin fell from the sky.
After, body covered in the quick spray of dark arterial blood, Dinae thought she could remember the entire thing. She thought she could see the emperor above her, whole body screaming with his presence, feel the cat's scale changing to fur against her thigh, feel the cloying, choking warmth of the scented braziers surrounding them, the presence of the thousand thousand men of the imperial guard spread through the palace.
She could see it all, in the moment when the glint of the falling assassin’s blade finally passed in to the circle of firelight surrounding the bed. And it was all washed away in the mad moment when the blade passed through him, punching out in the space between ribs, bits of royal heart flecked along the blade. Its tip only inches from her face.
Dinae sat up on the bed, silks ruined, what little he’d left her to wear. The guards poured in, the assassin made his feeble attempt at battle, died a moment later by her feet. As he eyes went dull, he looked at her, abased there beneath her like she had been, night after night by the feet of the Emperor Ikurei.
The emperor lay beside her, bleeding out. His lifeblood pooled beneath her, shockingly warm.
But it did not burn.
*Why doesn’t it burn?* Dinae wondered. *His touch burned. He scalded me every night, so why doesn’t this burn? He’s all over me, now.*
Dinae brushed blood soaked hair back from her eyes. The guards stood all around, mouths gaping open, unsure what to do. She tied her raven black hair up, wiped her eyes clean of the makeup forced upon her, luxuriated in the perfume washed away by the absolution of blood.
Then she stood, still not burning, and turned to face the cat.
Minnaloushe sat curled on his emperor’s chest, assessing him as if he were a piece of meat. There was no loyalty there, Dinae saw now. Only hunger, only an animal’s base lusts.
She stroked the cat’s head once. She knew that look well, could not begrudge this creature for it.
Then she turned, a traitor’s smile on her face, and accepted her fate with open arms.
*Shigek,* she thought, *I avenge you.*
*I avenge us all.*
\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_
If you enjoyed that, I've got tons more over at r/TurningtoWords. Come check it out, I'd love to have you! | 2021-09-01T07:12:46 | 2021-09-01T06:43:02 | 310 | 64 |
[WP] The Dark Queen is an evil and power-hungry woman... but she's also your loving aunt, who took you in and raised you after your parents died. | Looking back on my childhood, I should have noticed the signs that my aunt isn’t your average, hardworking woman. For starters, her mansion – that became my home after she took me in when my parents died – lay isolated on a high cliff surrounded by the wild sea, with waves that bashed the stone continuously, spraying a perpetual mist around the place. There was only one path leading to the house, meandering through the desolate landscape.
I could excuse my younger self for not running then and there; after all, I was only a boy mourning the death of my parents. But over the years, I chose to stay ignorant and closed my eyes for all the signals: the servants who always whispered and never laughed whenever my aunt was around. My classmates who avoided me like I personified the plague. The dinners Auntie had with shifty men and women, where I wasn’t allowed to be present. But I had found a little crack in the floor above the dining hall that let me look down in the hall. I sometimes spend whole nights there, frantically trying to catch the hushed words Auntie and her conspirators spoke.
Because over time it became very clear to me that they were plotting and scheming terrible crimes: I overheard assassination plans, ambitious ideas to conquer our neighbouring country Huvu’an and suggestions on how to crush rebellious acts.
As I grew older and learned about politics, I began to realize that while our kingdom in name was governed by King Berthold, it was actually here where decisions where made. King Berthold was puppeteered by Auntie and one day I finally understood that the title, whispered in fear in the hallways of the school or on the corners of the streets, pertained to her.
*The Dark Queen*
Over time, the veil around my Auntie slowly began to unravel and it uncovered the figure everyone else in the country saw when they looked at her: an evil and power-hungry woman and although she was a mere mortal, her reputation granted her a godlike status: untouchable and immortal, elevated above humankind.
I didn’t like this side of her and preferred to stay oblivious to it. Because I was the only one who ever saw her other personality. One that felt more natural, a simpler one: her personality as aunt.
She taught me how to fight with a sword and we practiced until sweat blinded my eyes. She showed me how to brew deadly poisons that we tested on animals we caught together. Sometimes Auntie read a book, deepening her voice to imitate strong men or screaming high-pitched to emulate a fearful maiden. She gestured with her hands and enacted scenes to bring the story to life. It was magical and even as a teenager, these performances never failed to entertain me.
But things abruptly changed on my sixteenth birthday: the day I became a man. Auntie awaited me at the breakfast table. She handed me a long package wrapped in black paper and a bright red ribbon. I didn’t need to unwrap the gift to know what she got me: a sword.
Once unpacked my hands caressed the leather sheath. It was decorated with symbols and words in the ancient script, some of which I recognized from my studies: warrior, bravery and manoeuvre. I buckled it on my belt and drew the sword, which smoothly and silently glided out the scabbard. It was well balanced and lightweight and sunlight reflected off the polished metal. On the blade, just above the hilt, were three words engraved:
*The Dark Prince*
“My dearest nephew, as of today, you’re a man. The time for games is over and I want you to take your rightful place next to me, as my right-hand man and protégé. That sword, once in possession of the great King Arthur will be yours if you accept my offer.”
Auntie stretched out her hand, palm downwards, fingers pointing to the ground. A wave of doubt hit me; accepting would mean to abolish the path of the righteousness and seek power and wealth. But then I stepped forward and kissed the ring on Auntie’s hand.
Auntie is family and family is loyalty.
“Good choice, My Dark Prince. Lets get to work.” | When one thinks of the Empress of Nehkarina, Sira the Great, they see the indomitable Lady of Iron, Heir to the Dark Throne, Protector of the Shadowlands and bane of the Holy Kingdoms. They see a terrifyingly skilled sorceress, a masterful stateswoman with a silver tongue, a fair and just ruler or a cruel and cold tyrant, but very few know who she truly is. Beneath it all, all the power and all the politics, she is human, and like any human one cannot thrive on things such as duty, riches and might alone, at the end of the day everyone needs a family. Just about nobody knows of the years of effort she spent hiding away her last living brother Mutar who had abdicated from his position as heir in pursuit of a peaceful life with some peasant girl, the depths of despair when their farm was found burned down from an attack by the Holy Kingdom of Aytrial which motivated her two decade long campaign of conquest and destruction and none but herself and perhaps her most trusted bodyguard knows of the tears of sheer joy she wept when she found she was not truly alone after all. Such shows of humanity and emotion are of course against the image she projects, indomitable, unflinching, nigh inhuman. The mask only slips when alone with the only family she has, her nephew Tarion.
Young Tarion's parents had wanted to raise him away from the vile, backstabbing politics of the Nehkarinian Court, and this was one of the few things Sira saw eye to eye with her brother about before his demise. The system had broken her, just as surely as it must have broken poor Mutar whose fearful eyes whenever there was even the slightest chance of assassination marked her memory of him during those years before he met that peasant girl and decided to give up everything for her. It was for this reason why she was walking down the street quite the distance from the Imperial Palace in common garb beneath a network of disguise charms that would cripple a lesser magus instead of being in the luxury of the palace grounds under objectively better protection in every way compared to the minimal group of her most loyal servants hiding in dark corners just within peripheral vision. Still sacrifices had to be made to honour the last wishes of Mutar and ensure the poor lad whose most complex political manoeuvres was in the orphanage pecking order was not caught in the complex web of lies that surrounded the court at all times. Slowly, ever so carefully, she dropped the mask of cold emotionless calculation as she approached her destination and let out a tiny but genuine smile,
"Aunt! You are late! You promised you would be back from work by 6!" Tarion called as she knocked on the door,
"My apologies dear... something had to be dealt with..." She replied grimacing at the memory of the assassination attempt and the screams of the foolish assassin from the torture chambers,
"Well no matter, come in the dinner is getting cold! I got big news for you!" Tarion called as he opened the door, the smell of a simple peasants dish wafted through the air as he did which the Empress found much more inviting than the lavish and decadent feasts back in the palace,
"Of course dear" She said with a smile as she came into the humble home
It was always her biggest regret that she had not found Tarion sooner, the young man was perhaps twelve summers in age when she had finally tracked him down, she didn't even know he existed until she heard news from her spy network. Still it was this simple life, a facade it may have been, living with and helping to raise the boy like her own son that she lived for. It truly was a blessing that Tarion seemed to utterly lack curiosity over his Aunt's city job or her frequent disappearances, if there was anything she wanted less now that she had it was an interruption to this facade of a simple existence away from the vicious politics and bickering. Sira sighed contently as she took a sip of vegetable soup,
"Oh you wouldn't believe it but I met the Archmage today! He said that he saw magic potential in me that he hasn't seen in anyone other than members of the Royal Line! He will be sponsoring my tuition and I will be studying closer to the city where you live! Isn't that great!" Tarion exclaimed with utterly unabashed glee and excitement which would constitute a show of weakness enough to get him murdered in court,
At this Sira choked on and spat out her soup in shock which was an equally great if not worse offence in Nekharian noble culture,
"Are you alright Aunt Sira?" Tarion cried as he rushed over to help,
"Yes... yes I am lad... I just..." Sira replied between gasps for air, swearing she would find and immolate Archmage Gorgos for this *complication*,
"Do you not want me to go? I do not understand, the money of being a mage will help us a lot, and if I move to the city I will be closer to where you work so you wouldn't need to travel so far." Tarion asked as she recovered,
"No no I am happy for you it's just... I just... ugh" she said slumping into her seat more, "Look, Tarion, I suppose you will be finding out sooner rather than later, so you might as well find out now."
"I'm afraid I do not understand Aunt." Tarion said with genuine befuddlement,
Slowly several layers of charms and spells were unravelled returning Sira to her usual appearance, she manifested her dark crown and placed it on her head. Silence followed for a few painful minutes as both parties silently processed the situation,
"Well for what it's worth i'm sorry about this Tarion but I promise you I had my reasons..." She began,
"None of that please, what matters is you are still my Aunt, i'm sure you have a whole speech ready but let's have dinner and talk about what we usually talk about and we can deal with this later." Tarion decreed seemingly drawing upon his royal heritage,
Sira smiled as she replied, "Truly your father's son, of course, the soup is getting cold after all."
The rest of the conversation was mostly rather dull except for one particular comment about Jack the Baker apparently having an interest in the identity she had assumed to care for Tarion incognito. The unfortunate man was apparently shooting far further from his weight class than he could have imagined although.... no she would not be sharing in Mutar's fate that was a step too far! It was all things considered a normal, simple conversation with family, and that above all the wealth, power and magical prowess was what Sira treasured most in her life. | 2021-11-28T04:16:28 | 2021-11-28T04:05:16 | 32 | 13 |
[WP] Write a horror story where "we need to split up" actually makes sense. | "Guys, we need to split up." Nobody responded, so he continued: "I know it seems like if we do split up, we'll get killed, but really we don't have any realistic options otherwise."
Still nothing, he glanced back for affirmation of his words, although he was only met with pursed lips. "C'mon, let's be real here, there's no way we'll get out of this situation if we're all stuck together, be logical! It'll only slow us down, and then we'd all be screwed!"
Frustratedly, he raised his voice: "Do you seriously want to stay like this? The two of you, stuck with me?"
The one behind the man in front let out a muffled sigh, and an even more muffled: "of course not."
"GOOD, finally! Let's get out of this human centipede!" | "I don't think I'm gonna fit" Eric winced as he dropped down to one knee, peering into the small opening. There was some source of light pouring from the hole, illuminating the room. His leg throbbed from the open wound on his calf, where he'd been hacked into barely 10 minutes ago. Adrenaline began to wear off as they locked themselves inside the concrete cell, evading their predators for a few moments, leaving him quivering in pain. Bianca watched him with teary eyes, her shirt torn and ragged from where she'd been grabbed, a few scrapes here and there from staggering into the brick walls. The smell of blood began to taint the air.
"I'm not going without you." She spoke quietly, beginning to tremble. Eric shook his head sadly, stabilising himself on the wall as he rose back to his full height.
"I don't want you to either. But it might be a way out." He glanced around, noticing a small lever protruding from the wall. "We could try that. Or it's a trap."
"Do you really think those *monsters* are capable of setting a trap?" Tears began to stain her cheeks. A calloused finger wiped them away, his soft eyes meeting hers.
"I want you to be safe." He pressed his lips to her forehead. Shrieks erupted behind the door they'd come from, causing the couple to jump. Eric gritted his teeth as he put weight on his leg, agony searing through his body.
"You saw what they did to the others" Bianca's statement was empty, her gaze fixated on the door, the excited grunts and yips of the creatures gaining on them. Eric nodded, remembering how their friends had fallen, grasping at each other in vain as their lifeforce was drained away.
"But what if, they can only kill us together?" Hope gleamed in his eyes, if only for a brief moment. During their first assault, Marcus had valiantly stood before Irene, a pointless attempt to defend her as they were descended upon by the creatures, leaving them a bloody, grey shell of what they once were. The same fate had fallen upon Adam and Juliet, the pair cowering in each others arms, sniffed out in seconds by the beasts despite being hidden behind various furniture. "Nobody died alone. Maybe they feed on connection." He almost wanted to laugh. The idea seemed ridiculous. Grasping at straws as he was, Eric had to try. Bianca was weeping openly now, finding no solace in his words.
"Please. Go." He settled his back against concrete, sinking down to the floor, grimacing as he found himself in a pool of his own blood. "It's worth a try." The door began to rattle on its hinges, the monsters flinging themselves at it in a desperate attempt to get in. The noise startled Bianca out of her hysterics, frantically glancing between the door, the opening and her husband. "Please." Conceding, she pressed a kiss into his hair, clambering to her knees and swinging her legs through the hole.
"I love you." Bianca swung herself out of the room, a small smile on Eric's lips as the metal door burst from its hinges, sealing off the small opening and casting him into darkness.
Their amber eyes burned as they approached him. | 2022-02-19T17:31:55 | 2022-02-19T16:40:57 | 17 | 11 |
[WP] "We have a problem," said Commander Killmurder, "One of us isn't actually a member of the Blood-Death Squad and is a plant by the enemy." He looked around at his fellow Squad members: Private Bloodgore, Lieutenant Organsmash, General Visceral, Creamy Honeypuff, and Sergeant Bonesplosion. | “Well, the newest members are Honeypuff and you, Killmurder”, started Bonesplosion. “I think you two are the most likely suspects.” The others agreed. “Fair enough”, Killmurder started, “but I have my suspicions about you, Creamy.
“You joined last Tuesday, right Creamy?”
“Yup!”
“You were never in our files, right?”
“Yup!”
“And your name is Creamy Honeypuff, right?”
“Yup!”
“That doesn’t match our names at all! I think it is clear that-” Killmurder began before he got interrupted.
“Wait just a minute!”, Creamy started.
“Alright, shoot.”
“You just joined a week before I did, right?”
“Yes”, Killmurder groaned. “However, I already had documents.” Was Creamy really trying to defend himself?
“What documents?”, questioned Creamy. “You correctly called them files earlier, but you should know that our files are not physical documents.”
“Wait, that was just an honest mistake!”
“As for me, my ‘documents’ have not been assigned since I just defected from the Sugarsweet Clan.”
“You did?!”
“Yes; you should know these things, considering that you joined earlier than I did.”
“Why wasn’t I told this?!”, yelled Killmurder.
“You would know if you had an official Blood Death Squad email, which you should have,” retorted Creamy. “Besides, how are you even a Commander? That rank isn’t available to people who have been here for less than half a year, including us.”
“I don’t know”, Killmurder squeaked.
“Also, your name doesn’t match”, Honeypuff continued.”
“WHAT?! MINE?!”
“I’ll admit, my name is goofy, but really, Killmurder? That has nothing to do with a human body! That’s just an action. Is that the best the Sugarsweet Clan could come up with? You might have tricked the others, but you can’t trick a Sugarsweet defector like myself.”
“Wait, I can explain!”, started Killmurder, but the others had already called for security. | "I think it's BloodGore" I said, quick to start the blame game on the right foot. "He didn't even eat the heart of the last chieftain we killed."
"I told you, Honeypuff, I'm on a diet" the massive mercenary said. "Doc wants my cholesterol down before the year ends."
The 200 kilos of muscle and destruction stood from his table, putting his salad fork down in the skull he used as a utensil saver dish. "Could be OrganSmasher".
The next accused brute slammed a prosthetic hand on his table, breaking a corner clean off. "Mah smasheh was broke, 'member? Just got it back from tha techpriests day afore yesterday, I did." He punctuated his statement with a deadly demonstration, spewing a burst of fire and sparks from his cyborg arm weapon. "Wot 'bot Visceral? Could be 'im."
"LIKE HELL I AM" he screamed. "I WANT TO RIP AND TEAR, NOT KNIT AND PLAY LIKE THOSE FUCKIN PUSSIES!"
He turned and struck the wall behind him, punching a hole through the concrete and steel of the bunker.
"COULD BE BONESPLOSION. HE DIDN'T KILL ANYONE LAST MISSION" he screamed. To be fair, Visceral always screamed with this intensity. In my 6 months of undercover work, he hadn't heard him speak any other way.
Bonesplosion leaned forwards, emerging from the shadowy corner table he had claimed. "*I was gathering information, for the next mission*", the stealth expert whispered, barely audible over Organsmasher's oscillating hand mounted sawblade. "*I was extracting coordinates and codes from the commander. And I will have you know, he did perish at the end.*"
Killmurder nodded. "And that info was a goldmine. Well worth Bone's time. One of the codes he gathered unlocked the information about the spy among us."
He turned and extended a heavily scarred finger at me. "Creamy Honeypuff, I'm assigning you to find the mole. Use whatever force necessary."
A chorus of groans and complaints arose from my squadmates. "WHY ARE YOU MAKING HONEYPUFF THE INQUISITOR? HE GOT TO FIND THE SNITCH LAST TIME."
"And you got to kill him, Visceral" the commander said. "You still have his bones in that mason jar, remember?"
Visceral grunted. "IT REALLY TIES MY BUNK TOGETHER, NICE CONVERSATION STARTER."
I clasped my hands together nervously, trying to appear more convincing than I thought. "Ok, uh, lets start with BloodGore, then. Could you follow me to the interrogation chamber, please?"
BloodGore glanced at his watch. "Can I go second? I have hot yoga with Bonesplosion in 15."
"*Indeed*" the assassin confirmed. "*It really helps loosen the muscles, and improves flexibility.*"
"Okay, how about you, Smasher?" I asked, "want to get this out of the way?"
"If it'll get me name cleared, yeah" he said, idly spinning his arm blade. "Lets go git this o'er with."
The behemoth rose, and followed me into the interrogation room. We claimed chairs on either sides of the metal desk, neither one particularly comfortable. I locked the door with my remote access key, then pulled a small device from a tactical vest pocket. I scanned the room with the bug sniffer, making sure there were no electronic eavesdroppers. Satisfied at our privacy, I took my seat.
"Dude, what are we gonna do?" Organsmasher asked, dropping his tough guy voice. "HQ can't keep bailing us out every time these killers discover us."
"I don't know, but we need to act fast." I said. "I'll say it was you, smuggle you out the usual way. When you report back, have them send a spook next. We need to replace Bonesplosion soon, that guy scares me."
"Agreed. Now how do you want to fake my death?" Organsmasher asked.
"*How about we do it for real?"* a new voice said. We both spun to the door, and found the rest of the MurderDeathKill Squad staring back.
"...fuck", I muttered.
"YOU GOT THAT RIGHT" Visceral shouted. He pulled a grenade from his stash, pulled the pin, and tossed it into the interrogation chamber. Killmurder slammed the door closed, sealing our fate along with the room.
r/SlightlyColdStories for more | 2022-06-19T10:21:55 | 2022-06-19T08:05:54 | 673 | 187 |
[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. | Im not like most Druids. A generic, typical Druid would go out, embrace nature, speak with trees and animals, and commune to find inner peace and meaning. Those psychopaths in the grove rely on the forest and animals to protect them with a little bit of manipulation magic to keep people out. Blah blah blah. They’re naive I swear it. Sure there’s probably some sort of higher power, god or goddess type keeping watch over things but who’s to say they’re watching over ME specifically, US at all? I gotta protect myself of my own accord.
So I started to chop the trees that had already fallen, and mined the ores from the mountain that my brothers and sisters refused to use. And I went to town on my experiments. Day after night after day, an explosion here, an explosion there, loud rumbling that sounded like an earthquake. The grove had enough of my nonsense and made me move farther and farther out from the grove. Not quite excommunicating me, but practically so. So I stopped communicating with them. They didn’t like that much.
“VISHA! Get your ass out here!” The Arch-Druid called out from my front porch. I walk out, arms crossed, irritated to see his face again, give him the “what the fuck do you want” look.
“Still not talking Vish? It’s been 5 years, you’re still part of the grove even though you’re all the way out here. And with being part of the grove, you need to pull your own weight. What can you provide the grove?” The Arch-Druid less asking and more demanding. I roll my eyes and hold up my index finger as I walk back inside. I already know what I can give him but how little is the question. I come back out with a jar of honey and a steel tower shield that I made.
The Arch-Druid let’s out an audible gasp. “I am appalled that you’d even consider giving us weaponry made from the ground. You know we don’t use such things, even if you are only a half-elf you should still uphold the traditions.” I shrug and press the jar of honey into the Arch-Druid’s arms, turn and take the tower shield back inside. I wait just inside the door for a moment already expecting the next outburst. “Is that it?!” He called out again. “You’ll need more than just a jar of honey to stay on good terms with the grove and for us to provide protection!”
I slide the second jar of honey out the door and close it again, making sure he could hear the locking mechanism lock the door behind me. I peek out the window and could see him grumbling in frustration to himself, tomato red in the face. It was a bittersweet start to my day. Having to give up 2 whole jars of honey but getting to see that face was just about worth it. I pick up my trusty wooden staff and head back to work.
The grove’s protection, pffft, what nonsense. They don’t even realize I’ve been protecting them. While most Druids end up with wolves, bears, cats, or any of the other cute and furry animals to call their own and commune with, I felt more comfortable with insects. Bees, butterflies, spiders, wasps, and any of the hundreds of thousands of creepy crawlies in the ground. They are the true life blood of any ecosystem. And for this ecosystem, they help me keep an eye on every Druid in the grove, every large creature near the woods, and every tree if it’s needed. They also help with providing useful and important resources and can help with my own personal daily necessities.
Bees provide honey and wax, both useful for certain instruments as well as nutrients. Butterflies are useful for silently keeping an eye on things around the grove, camouflaging into the background. Wasps are the warriors of the insects, if something needs to be chased off or killed, I can always rely on them. Spiders provide various silk, and together can create intensely strong rope while simultaneously being extraordinarily thin. The underground diggers can also have their various uses for manipulating the ground. Opening a plot for growing vegetables, an underground area for me to work, a pitfall trap for any unwanted residents, it just takes a bit of time and forethought.
They can even forage some materials for me and bring back portions of meals for me to cook when there is too much. It’s a symbiotic relationship, they help me, I help them, everyone wins.
Except today wasn’t your average day. I checked up on my insects habitats to give out some new orders and one by ten by a hundred, all of them were suddenly falling mid-flight or stopped moving altogether. Suddenly, my arm went numb, then my legs, I tried to catch myself but it was no use. Everything was numb. All I could do was lay on the floor and think to myself. What could possibly be going on.
About an hour later I was able to move again along with all the insects. Some kind of magick? Paralysis magick is a bit more difficult than sleep magick, so they must have known the grove was here in advance and known we aren’t susceptible to sleep magick. Smart and powerful. My blood is starting to boil now.
But I still need information. That’s what my insects come in handy for. What’s the situation at the grove? “The grove is on fire!” Who are the attackers? “Green goblins and red orcs, one with a staff and crystal ball!” How are the Druids? “Tied up, those that took arms were slaughtered!” Damn, those idiots, know when to pick a fight. How many? “A few hundred!” Damn, I guess it won’t be much of a fight after all. Oh well. Time for some setup.
I donned my newest armor set that I made. Full metal alloy plate mail. Tougher than regular plate mail, but heavier too, not that I need to be speedy. I used a spell to move from one tree to another, specifically one that was just outside the grove and got to work on the setup. It only took about 10 minutes and the traps were set. I began stomping my way straight through the front gate in a full white metal suit, the only part that was visible were my eyes. Dragging along the ground behind me was an equally white two handed mace.
“Aooooooogh!” One of the orcs bellowed as he pounded his chest like a gorilla, signaling to the others they had company. Several swarms of wasps each started to attack the goblins either outright stinging them to death or running them into traps. One group of goblins of about 8 tripped over some roped spider silk, straight into a layer of extra sticky honey, making them easy targets for any of the predators at my disposal to take their pick. I stomped farther down the battlefield dragging the mace right along.
“Who the hell are you? Where did you come from?” The red orc holding the staff and crystal ball called out to me. Right at that moment, a dire wolf spider the size of me jumped out and sprayed two red orcs with silk, binding them together. The large spider under my control went to work on spinning them into their web coffins.
“I’m warning you, I already have your comrades right where I want them!” The red orc mage begins to look around at the destruction and orderly chaos the creatures are creating, all working together to fend off against the orcs and goblins. If one orc fights off a fire wolf spider or swarm of wasps, another takes its place and continues where it left off. Like some form of hive mind all working in unison. | 2022-10-08T15:57:20 | 2022-10-08T15:41:06 | 57 | 28 |
[WP] It was a weapon so powerful that not even the most barbaric warmongering civilisation could stomach it. Just by building one, we struck terror in the hearts of many species. We weren't even planning on using it... | When we created the star-bombs we knew that we were going to far. The concept was to have a bomb with the power of a star exploding, creating a mini super nova.
We realized how impractical these weapons were with just a couple of simulations. The energy would destroy or annihilate any planet to close to the explotion and would leave it a radioactive wasteland.
We would need to terraform all planets if we weren't dead. The decision to abandon these weapons was made and left as a resource for an apocalyptic event, a nightmare we hoped would never happen.
We managed to find other advanced races on our journey through the stars and decided to start friendly relationships with them with the fear that they would have the same weapons that we feared.
It turned out that we were the only race that had these weapons, all the others had achieved a state of unity before developing them.
Eventually, our nightmare materialized at the borders of the galaxy. Planets disappeared without explanation and the ships never returned from darkness.
Then we discover its origin, a race of robots designed to extract all the resources of the galaxy. Machines that had honed resource-gathering capabilities.
The Galactic Alliance and the Galactic Federation could do nothing. Only us, the Central League, remained. We didn't count on the numbers or the time. There was no hope.
We took the only option available, a simultaneous bombardment of the invading fleets would prevent them from preparing for our attacks or learning to manufacture more of these weapons.
The attack was a success, eliminating the central nodes of the invading fleets, eliminating the threat of the galaxy. Our allies looked at us in horror and we accepted our role.
The galaxy came together and asked us to go to the edges of the galaxy so as not to be a threat to any species and we accepted. Fortunately, this was the best thing for everyone, even for us.
The remnants of the mechanical fleets gave us plenty of materials to create artificial planets and the bombs we feared so much were transformed into artificial stars. We become more advanced and achieved biotransference.
Now, the galaxie is preparing to destroy us with our own weapons, weapons that we are now immune from years of study and research.
We are ready to face out enemies and maybe return. It is going to be interesting. | “There’s an emergency meeting at ten-hundred hours and you should be there. Something came up.”
Meetings are a necessary evil in the defense industry, and I trained myself not to hate them. They align everyone’s brainwaves to vibrate at the same rhythm, and with many of us working on less than 4 hours of sleep, alignment was a good idea.
My manager shut the door of my room and left me with the sound of my COVID air purifier, which mainly served to block the tinnitus these days. No one has left the research facility for weeks since we started experimentation. 10 a.m. was 15 minutes from now. I knew I wouldn’t get any work done in this time, so I got up and started ambling towards the meeting room.
Our director of operations, Pearson, was already there, as well as a few of the senior scientists I knew. No one was making small talk and everyone smelled of coffee and BO. The success of our latest experiment left everyone in a somber mood, not nearly as celebratory as I thought it would be.
Pearson started off “This is still confidential. Putin phoned an unconditional surrender this morning. President Biden and defense secretary Austin have not accepted it yet. They are essentially asking us if we want to deploy the weapon regardless of their surrender.”
It was a testament to modern cyber-espionage that Russia not only knew about our top-secret weapons program, but learned about our successful experiment within hours of its completion. But there was no time to talk about that now. This was big news.
“The use of unconventional weapons by the Russian army in Kherson gives us the international legitimacy to use our weapon on a military or even a civilian target within the Russian territory.” He continued.
I spoke up immediately “Are we really doing a Hiroshima here? They already surrendered. This isn’t 1945. The US isn’t even a direct party to this war.”
“Polls show that the American public has wide support for our military efforts in Ukraine.” This was Jennifer Engler, a former army brass who knew the nuclear secrets before joining our research arm. When QAnon spoke about the deep state, they were talking about Engler. “There is significant value in proving this technology on a live target, both scientifically and geopolitically.”
Engler was an unrelenting hawk, but I respected her professionalism. I’ve never seen her break character. It was Matthews’ turn: “I agree. We are ready to deploy this weapon in real-life conditions, and that is the only way we can say with certainty that it’s a viable technology.” He’s a scientist and a father of two. I somehow didn’t expect him to demonstrate this level of conviction to ruin and destruction.
I racked my brain for another moral argument that I knew was in there somewhere, if I wasn’t so tired right now. Is this really the meeting where we decide the fate of 10,000 or even 100,000 lives? Whether it’s soldiers or civilians made no difference to me.
Pearson turned to another scientist to ask about the logistics. The weapon would create a momentary black hole just above the surface, sucking every bit of matter around it into a wormhole and spitting it out as deconstructed atoms devoid of their original structure or purpose. In mathematics they call this information loss. The sum of 100,000 lives, their future, their children, their loved ones, their dreams - that information would be lost forever irretrievably. For the glory of our government.
“What maximal radius can we expect if we detonated at 3,000 ft?” He was referring to the radius of the black hole. At a certain threshold it would trigger a Katamari effect: the black hole grew as it absorbed more mass, increasing its gravitational field, which would pull more matter into it. To avoid obliterating the entire earth and everything we know, there was a maximum radius that depended on the density of matter in the target area.
As they discussed the logistics, it occurred to me that this meeting might be remembered in the history books as a decision point that could have gone either way. This meant something. Surely we can still change the course of time ahead of us? I was so tired.
“I can’t believe we’re seriously considering this.” was the best I could come up with.
Pearson glanced at me. “The decision is ultimately up to POTUS. We are only asked to give our opinion on feasibility.” He paused just for a second, to make sure no one had any more conscientious objections. Then he faced Matthews to resume the discussion around logistics. “Thank you for the question.”
In other words, the decision has already been made. | 2022-11-01T06:50:13 | 2022-11-01T05:41:15 | 23 | 15 |
[WP] You are the owner of a very well received restaurant that caters to the... not quite human variety. You serve the vampire lords, and wolf pack leaders, zombie kings, and all sorts of supernatural guests, but one customer is causing you a lot of trouble. It is time to show why you are the owner | Running a restaurant isn't easy. But to be fair, being able to see all these fantasy creatures you usually only hear stories about is totally worth all the stress. Actually, forget just being able to see them. I'm good friends with most of my regular clientele! Vampires, werewolves, zombies, all that and more.
Me? I'm literally just a regular old human. Ironically, I think that's what makes it so attractive to all the supernatural beings. I'm just a guy who's doing his best in a world where baseline humans aren't really all that much. They see it as charming, or at least that's what's been said by anyone I've asked.
Plus, once they do come, I'm friendly with them. I don't care who your father's father's uncle is, I don't care how many times you've had to sow your limbs back on, you're still a person to me. I'm happy to talk to you, or if you just need an ear to rant to. Either is good with me! Especially the last one, because talking is a little hard for me.
Another nice thing about letting literally anyone and everyone in is that it's not that hard to get benefits from it. Not that I'm one to ask under most circumstances, but it's awfully hard for certain people to obtain certain dishes that I'm able to find. They're willing to pay a little extra, or even donate, in order to keep the place running. Some of my best customers are also my staff, as a matter of fact.
...Okay, quick little thing, right? I get a remarkable amount of... how to put it. The closest way I can think of putting it is "mixed-species couples," but that may not be the correct term. What I mean is, for example, you've got a vampire boyfriend coming with his werewolf girlfriend. They're always so adorable! It makes sense why they come, since I let all species and subspecies in, and abide no discrimination of any kind, but still. It makes me so happy to see two vastly different people just staring into each other's eyes lovingly...
Where was I? Oh, right. That customer.
So, simple fact, I occasionally get entitled people in here. It's not often, but they're a pain in the behind. There's always something wrong, and something's not to their exact liking. You know, they always claim they're gonna "report me to the owner" and they'll "shut this place down." Hah, as if. They almost always saying they'll report the owner... to the owner, which amuses me to no end.
There was this one guy, right? He was real belligerent that night, not really sure why. So, he comes in, and he's being super loud and angry and... all that stuff. It's annoying my customers, my staff, and frankly I'm getting irritated too. So I head over to him.
"Hey, buddy." He turned to me, anger clearly written on his face. He was a big guy too. I'm not short by human standards, but this guy clearly had werewolf in him somewhere, because he was easily one and a half times my height or some such. "You're being extremely loud and irritating. I think we'd all appreciate it if you either quieted down or left." He crouched down to my height, breathing heavily. Yep, definitely werewolf blood. His breath smelled too strongly of raw meat for it to be many other things. Was it a full moon tonight?
"You do realize I could rip you up right now?" I shrugged.
"I mean, yeah, you could. I'd give you... enough time to pull of an arm before Zared over there pulls you into his horde of fellow zombies." I waved to the zombie king who was sitting with some of his more-intact companions. "Hmm... actually, maybe that would be cool. Could try one of those spell-tattoo arms that Aria's been making." Apparently annoyed by my blatant not-caring-ness, belligerent guy suddenly howled, making me jump back.
"I've killed more people than you've ever seen, boy! What's one more!?" I blinked a bit, regaining my thoughts.
"Huh." I looked around the room at the other patrons, who were in various stages of visible anger. "Okay. So you kill me. Then... how do you handle everyone else who is very angry that their favorite bartender just died? I mean, I can practically promise that Prima and Argus over there would keep you alive for a week while they eat your organs one by one."
"Two weeks," Prima called out. I'd never asked *exactly* what kind of demonic heritage she had, nor *exactly* how many people Argus has sacrificed to his particular god of choice, but it didn't matter. They were good company either way. "And I'd just feed him to himself. I don't eat mud-meat." The soon-to-be ex-patron looked down at me.
"Do you have any idea of who I am?" I smiled. I loved it when they asked me that.
"Nope! And I don't care!" My confidence was brought by the trio who'd walked up behind the Belligerent. One of them roughly put her hand on his shoulder, and he turned back to see Amethyst, one of the many dragon princesses with fire in her eyes staring him down. The other two were Arnold and Indefi, an animated stone statue and a Naga-Medusa half-breed respectively. The latter can petrify people, but doesn't unless she gets real mad. That being said, she did seem remarkably close to her breaking point.
"I will not tolerate a *whelp* such as yourself threatening this man," the dragon princess said, sharp as steel. A general chorus of cheers and hurrahs arose from around the restaurant/tavern I called home. "Now, are you going to leave, or am I going to have to throw you out?" Fortunately for him, the Belligerent took the hint and skedaddled.
"Thanks," I said happily. "Here, I should get you another drink on the house." Amethyst shook her head, smiling slightly.
"I've nearly had too much as it is."
"Trust me, it's gonna take an hour to get her home," Indefi remarked. "That's assuming that she doesn't try taking off to hug the stars or something."
"Well, next time then! Have a good night!"
That's the best part about hosting a supernatural restaurant. All supernatural creatures protect their own. I help all the families, so I'm part of all of them. Which... is remarkably bad for anyone who thinks they can pull one over on me. | Kind of predictable, but I had fun writing this!
In the years of 855-873, there was once a noble girl whose gift was truly one of a kind, very rarely seen in history books. Only five possessors of this gift was previously recorded, and it always ended up them being in the royal family, a saint, or the ruler of the country, maybe even the world themselves. Her name was Beatrix Ofuelda of the Ofuelda Archduchy. Her gift was truly divine, as this grants her the power of being Absolute in one way or another. Any commands or orders she gives once it is activated shall and will be followed no matter what. But there was a rule, any holder of this gift will be engaged to the royal family, giving them the power to hold the country in their gentle hands, or a chokehold.
Beatrix was engaged to the crown prince Liviticus. At first, the people were rejoicing, but then she showed her true colors. She lashed out, acted not-ladylike, and being a jealous tyrant to anybody who showed interest in the crown prince. The prince didn't like this one bit, and confided on a woman named Alexia, who is also blessed but with the gift of light, making her the Temple's high priestess. Her and the prince's love bloomed, and this made Beatrix so jealous to the point of bullying Alexia in secret. But alas, when prince Liviticus' lover finally told him, he denounced then and there that she will be exiled from the lands, never to be seen again. So Beatrix did with a huff and a puff, vowing to not go back if they demanded her to.
People said that the prince was a lovestruck idiot, letting go of a very huge force that can be potentially terrifying if used in the wrong way. But what made the people truly question is why didn't Lady Beatrix use her Absolute Order during her 'tyranny'.
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Year 875, Winter
As I wrote down the liquidation for the past week's spending, the door opened. A not so rather faint voice can be heard screaming from outside that made me sigh.
"Sir, he truly refuses to leave..." Abbigail's small wings twitched about her back, trying to mask her uncomfortableness and annoyance.
"Is he still asking for me?" She nodded her head and I sighed again. This guy...
"Alright, i'll take care of this. Please continue writing the liquidation for me." I stood up and smoothed out my black pants. Once everything was in order, I got out of the room and into the tavern that was quiet except for a ringing, angry voice that is bouncing off the walls.
"I DEMAND TO SEE THE OWNER!"
"But sir please, calm down first--"
"DO NOT TOUCH ME MONSTER!"
I felt my blood boil a bit but I exhaled, expelling the still rising anger in my body.
As I descended the stairs, every single beady and limpid eyes zeroed on my figure. Their faces, that was once of disdain and annoyance, turned to reverence and respect. My heart fluttered. I reached the commotion and saw Yvette, a succubus, clutching her torn outfit, Yunos, an elf, trying to hold calm down a man garbed in the temple's robes with a circlet on his head. A high priest, perhaps?
"Hello sir." I started "Do you need anything from me?"
His head whipped towards me and started to stomp in my direction.
"Greetings. I am the high priest Luvou, serving the Light Goddess and eradicating evil. Now, here's the problem. We, the followers of the Light Goddess, deserves the outmost respect, only served with the finest drinks, foods, services," He looked at Yvette, a flash of lust and annoyance in his eyes. I squinted. "And women."
"Sir, I understand." I shook my head and approached him. "You are doing a great job protecting the good people of Saphiri. But I do pray that you tell me why did you assault one of my people?"
I gritted my teeth and glared at him. He obnoxiously laughed and pointed at Yvette.
"Assault? She was asking for it! She's a succubus of course she would love it!" He laughed and pointed at me. "Don't be a hypocrite. I see you're a man. Don't tell me you haven't lusted after her with all her juicy and bouncy assets. Don't you just want to sink in her flesh?"
\[\]\[\]\[\]\[\]\[\]\[\]\[\]\[\]
Everyone was aghast at his proclamation.
"But isn't she also a 'monster'?" The tavern owner asked him, his fist shaking in anger.
"So what? You lot are disgusting! Monsters. Horns, wings, pointed ears, scales, those are imperfections and a disgusting addition to your body that's shaped like a mortal! What more to those non humanoid figures? They are wretched beings that do not deserve to live at all! SO what if I assaulted her? She's just an expendable, disgusting piece of cra--"
"**Sit.**"
The priest's body slammed down on the floor, his knees throbbing in pain as it hit the hardwood rather abruptly. His body, as if loosing control, kneeled in front of the Tavern Owner whose gaze was unreadable except for the white hot anger seeping through.
His mind muddled with confused thoughts, the priest looked up at him and nervously glanced at the man in front of him.
"What did you do to m-"
"**Shut your mouth**"
Like before, his mouth closed and can't be opened. His shaky hands tried to pry it open, even nicking his own skin and drawing blood, but it couldn't open at all.
"I can't believe I used my gift again after years."
The tavern owner's deep, baritone voice melded into a seductive feminine one.
"No use in hiding this." The tavern owner glared at the dumbfounded priest. "You must have deduced my identity already. So what's the point?"
The tavern owner flicked his hand towards Yunos. Yunos, who was just looking at the commotion, nodded and casted a spell, dispelling the one inside the tavern owner's body.
Slowly, the tavern owner's body shrunk a bit, his shoulders narrowing, his chest expanding, his hips widening a bit. His facial features softened but the sharp gaze is still there. Finally, his once dark brown hair and amber eyes were transformed that of a slick red hair and golden eyes.
"Lady B-Beatri-"
"You as a priest, needs to respect his people. The temple didn't teach this monster nonsense, its just your own prejudice. So, I would suggest to **quell your bullshit, stand up, turn around, and never come back!**"
His body lurched backward like somebody was dragging him from the collar. He tried to stand up but the pull was so fast he looked like he was being flung around. The door opened, and his sorry self was thrown into the snow.
The door closed. Signaling the end of the situation.
Immediately, everyone panicked. Their beloved Tavern Owner revealed her real identity to a person of the temple, and perhaps, also the royalty. They voiced their loud concerns, trying to hold themselves back from going out and tearing the priest limb to limb just to shut him up. But Beatrix held her hand up high and everyone closed their mouth.
"What's going to happen now? I heard and you know that the royal family is looking for you for quite some time now. Even going as far as declaring a lifetime house arrest for tthe crown prince's lover, and even berating the crown prince in public just to appease you. Now that they're going to now that you are here, they will come get you. And from the looks of it, they're going to get you no matter the cost. Are you going to be okay?" Yunos asked, his long winded speech shocked those who just knew of the continental search for her, and panicked the ones who already knew.
Beatrix just smiled at the people.
"You know, I did all those horrible things just to get away from the royal life. I don't want to be a ruler, nor a wife of a ruler. I just want a humble life. But I realized a long time ago that I shouldn't just ran away." Beatrix giggled and sat down on the chair.
"Sooner or later I have to face the music. So why not make it sooner? Feelings be damned." She clutched the locket she has hidden on her pocket. A picture of her and her Archduke father smiling at the then newly invented kamera that he bought just for her 18th birthday. Who knew she would be exiled the day after that.
She shook her head and resolved her mind.
"Anyways, free drinks and food for everyone today! Don't worry about the cost, I can pay for it! Cheers!" | 2022-12-07T20:09:17 | 2022-12-07T20:08:49 | 159 | 45 |
[WP] Dreams have all been tests, and someone finally passed. | I used to dream like everyone else. I had the dreams other people had: dreams where I was being chased; dreams of searching for something; dreams of falling and of flying. I no longer dream.
I have done so much since the dreaming stopped. I've discovered the cure for cancer. I have found a way to stamp out all disease. I've solved world hunger, thought of a way to end war, provide true equality without limiting personal freedoms and beliefs. I could solve all the problems of mankind and lead us to a bright and brilliant future. I know the moment of my own death - forty years from now. I have time to fix everything.
My last dream was a dark room. I was locked behind a wall of glass watching something moving on the other side. I tried to scream but found I had no voice. I whistled instead and banged on the wall. Then I was falling and falling but I opened my arms and flew up, up to safety, back to the dark room. The glass wall was gone. Monstrous beings moved in the room.
For a moment, only a moment, I wanted to run away. I saw in one being the face of the man who had hurt me. My heart cried out, a last shriek of pain.
And then there was peace inside me. I walked deeper into the room. I opened my arms to the creatures. "I forgive," I said, folding my arms around them.
For the first time in my life, I knew what true inner peace was.
In that moment, in all the moments since, I have known the dream to be a test; that all dreams are tests. I passed. Infinite knowledge is my reward and I will never be tested again. I will never dream again. And I will never wake up. Infinite knowledge and no way to share it with the world. Forty years in a coma for my prize. God has a sense of humor.
---
####
new year's challenge:
-001 | So, I passed. I didn't even know I was in the running. I didn't know there *was* a running. Obviously, I don't know how I passed, and apparently neither does anyone else. The Guardians just sent me an email--as if I needed one after the trumpets-blaring, angels-in-glorious-white-robes spectacle that jolted me awake at 3:34 a.m.--saying I had passed the test, and congratulations. Now they're leaving. They've been leaving for a year. Only a few are left.
My husband is getting pretty weird about this whole thing. At first, he was supportive, and happy about the money from the talk show circuit, but we didn't really need it, technically speaking, and I stopped after a couple of months. Maybe it was because we didn't really need the money that he started being, I don't know, weird about the dream thing.
"There's got to be something else," he keeps saying.
"Like what?"
"I don't know. Something. You're the most famous person in the world, right now, but nothing has changed, really."
"What do you want to be different?"
He has no answer. It's not as if I don't understand his frustration. And my parents', and my sister's, and my town's, and the whole damn planet's. Depending on whose blog you read, the Guardians were either what pulled us from the horrors of the twenty-first century or what kept us from finally realizing the glories of a true libertarian global economy. But mostly the first one--I read too many fringe blogs, I guess. Only the true crazies can pretend life hasn't been a million times better since the Guardians showed up. I remember my Mom's stories about wondering who to fear more: the Islamic terrorists or the government spies. She had a brother who was shot by a cop. I mean, I know everyone's Mom or Dad seems to, you know, but how weird is that? Killed by a police officer. She said she felt unsafe jogging alone at night when she was in college. How did women get any exercise back then? I remember she wouldn't let me walk across town to play with my best friend in first grade--it was right after the Guardians showed up, but things were still pretty bad--she felt she had to drive me everywhere farther than half a block. Who wants to go back to that world?
But that's where we're headed, or so everyone is saying. Countries are starting to put soldiers and tanks and stuff on their borders and stockpile missiles or rockets or something. African and South American nations are talking about teaming up. They say they have to protect themselves from the used-to-be-the-richest countries, who want to take their ore or something like that. I don't even know how to process this. It's just too scary. I can't go back to my Mom's world.
I'm getting death threats. At first they tore me up, and I cried for days. Then I guess I just got used to them. They still make me sad and afraid, but only, like, medium. Not a whole lot. I can't blame them, is the problem. From the point of view of the people who want me dead, my dream is the reason we lost the Guardians. It's my fault. I don't agree, or mostly I don't, but I understand the frustration.
I keep thinking about that dream. I've been hooked up to so many machines, been interviewed by so many doctors, that I sometimes don't think I remember it right at all. But when I close my eyes and breathe deep, I can recall everything. Nobody knows why my dream passed the test, or if they do, they're not sharing. I did some calculations, once, and figured there were about fifty trillion human dreams while the Guardians were on earth. Why was mine special? Nobody even knows what the test was. But the dream had puppies in it, and my seventh-grade boyfriend, who is fat now, and lives in Akron, but I loved him anyway. We kissed. It had the most beautiful music--I think it was Sly and the Family Stone. There was a scary part with a crazy guy with dark skin and a gun, but then that ended and I was driving with my Mom and my Dad. They were both in the car, and they weren't fighting. They held hands. It was a really great dream. | 2014-05-18T20:37:43 | 2014-05-18T19:57:15 | 63 | 13 |
[WP] You're a cop who reported to the final events of an action movie. This is your police report. | Jimmy: Evening, John.
John Wick: Evening, Jimmy. Noise complaint?
Jimmy: Noise complaint.
[looks over John's shoulder, sees the dead body on the floor behind him]
Jimmy: You... uh..."working" again?
John Wick: No, just sorting some stuff out.
Jimmy: Oh well, I'll leave you be then. Good night, John.
John Wick: Good night, Jimmy.
Form 3095B
Responding officer report.
Noise complaint at the residence of a middle aged man by the name of John Wick. Nothing to report.
*Report ends* | Form 6931283/b (Loss of Police Equipment)
Officer: Lt. Charles A. Tamburro
Summary: At approximately 7:30pm on 23 April 1991 a dispatch came in regarding a disturbance in the Fremont area. As ordered, I piloted my issued police helicopter, registration number N830RC, a Bell 206B JetRanger II, to the area to provide aerial assistance and observation to officers on the ground.
Upon arriving, I began observation of the upper floors of the building, and witnessed a desk crash out through a window and fall to the ground. I then observed officers on the ground coming under fire from what appeared to be an M134 Minigun operated by a suspect inside the building. As the JetRanger has no protection from such a weapon, I maneuvered around the building out of sight of the suspect, intending to retreat to a safe distance and then position myself to observe. During this period there were a number of explosions inside and outside the building.
A SWAT team entered the building, and I continued circling searching for anyone attempting to leave. During this time, there was a very large explosion. Shortly after the explosion, I observed an officer riding a motorcycle into the building.
Between one and two minutes later, as I hovered outside the building, the officer rode his motorcycle through a window, and jumped off, grabbing onto the outside of the helicopter. He then broke the canopy's front-left windshield panel, and snaked in through the hole. I suspect the panel was damaged by previous activities, creating microfissures in the plexiglas allowing it to be broken in this manner. The officer who came in through the hole was very limber, as climbing in through the broken windshield of a helicopter and then turning oneself around to sit in the cockpit and face forward would be very challenging. The officer then commandeered the helicopter, whereupon I concluded that the individual was not a police officer, but had stolen the uniform and may have been the suspected cop killer reported at the location, and this was his chosen method of escape. He ordered me to "get out," which I did as quickly as possible, jumping from the helicopter to the ground below, breaking my left femur and spraining both ankles.
From that point, I was not a direct witness to what happened with the helicopter. The suspect who took it flew it out of the area; reports indicate that it was seen to be chasing a police van and that the suspect was shooting at people in the van. It later crashed into the van and was destroyed, but again I was not a witness to those events.
As regards reports of the suspect having an unusual appearance, moving in impossible ways, or being resistant to gunfire, I witnessed nothing of that sort.
Recommendations: The helicopter having burned after the crash, no fingerprints will likely be recovered. But the suspect was riding a (presumably stolen) police motorcycle, which should be checked for fingerprints.
| 2015-12-14T10:34:26 | 2015-12-14T09:46:38 | 49 | 14 |
[WP] Every generation the five brightest are paired up with the five dumbest in the world for a mysterious test. You are one of the ten, but nobody knows from which group they came. | "Well I'm not really sure why we brought all these people together" the man in charge said in a sad voice "all of you guys seem the same".
Murmurs were heard from a few of the members after this comment, annoyed that they were involved in this. Others simply expressed their frustration with gestures.
"Usually it's pretty clear" the man continued "you have one side that's unintelligent and the other side that's intelligent."
"psst!" whispered the man to my right "hey you! Do you have any idea why we're here?"
I gestured to him multiple times, expressing that I didn't know. I was completely lost. This man was striking in a way, his skin was smooth and shiny like creamy porcelain. I noticed a few of the other people in the room were like that, and those people seemed to be the most talkative, whispering to their companions. The rest of the people simply shook their heads or told them to be quiet.
"alright" the man continued "we're gonna have to interview these guys one by one, you there" he said pointing at the man to my right, "why do you think you're here?"
"I assume this has to do with my large collection of large dildos, I'm an avid collector"
"What? Jesus what no that has... fuck ok what about you" he asked pointing at me, "what do you have to say for yourself"
I gestured to him multiple times to show my confusion
"what the hell are you doing? This isn't charades, speak u..." He paused for a moment "oh shit"
he quickly ran around the room surveying the 10 participants.
"oh for the love of... did they do it again? Was this Larry? It's always fucking Larry. Ok people there was a big mix up, apparently some jackass over at HR took the meaning of "bright" and "dumb" way too fucking literally." | I pace the waiting room. Up and down, up and down. Everyone is isolated from each other initially to prevent reading the others and finding out which group they came from. Well, most of the candidates knew which group they came from anyway. The room had a couch, a dresser, and a bit of refreshments on the small table in front of the couch.
"Well, figures I'd be the top 5 dumbest people in the world."
I smoked my way through high school and dropped out of college. For what? I thought I had a plan. My buddy and I, the start-up. Then shit went south and the fucker ditched me. Started doing odd-jobs, lived on the streets for a bit. Smoked a bit of this, shot up a bit of that. Got my ass beat so many times I barely feel physical pain anymore. Oh, that reminds me. If I'm going to humiliate myself on global television I might as well just do it while I'm feeling good and not getting the shakes. I'm sorry, mom, dad. I should have listened after all.
I pull out my syringe.
|
"Ladies and gentlemen! Welcome, to the 3rd GC! I am your host for today, Quin Jackson, and I am joined with my amazing co-host, Victor. The Generation Contrast is a decennial event, where by 5 of the brightest minds of each new generation has to work with the 5 dumbest minds of the generation for the GC test. Now the GCT has been set, funded and organised by an anonymous individual ever since the creation of the GC in 2020. Even I don't know who he is."
The crowd murmurs.
"Now, we are going to move on to the live interviews, where the participants will be interviewed individually in their respective waiting rooms." The crowd goes wild as the anticipation to see who were the lucky few to be chosen. Or unlucky.
"Now, we will be looking at James, 26, jobless. But one of the smartest men of the generation. LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, PLEASE PUT YOUR HANDS TO TOGETHER FOR-"
The stadium's large screen changed from the faces of the casters, to a man sitting in the waiting room with his face in ecstasy and his arm with a needle sticking out of it. His entire head was thrown back on the couch as his eyes rolled back.
|
As I shoot up, thoughts run wild in my head. What's going to happen to me after the GC? Will my life be better after being known as the biggest dumbass in the world? Fuck it, I might just off myself after this shit is done. I'll OD on whatever, feel good when I pass out at least. Or not, if I get money.
My thoughts clear as the my body circulates the liquid of the gods. That hits the fucking spot, Mable's stuff is damn good as always. As I roll back my eyes to enjoy the pleasure, the door opens.
And suddenly, the whole world can see me shooting up heroin.
|
"JAMES? WHAT THE-? WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING DOWN THERE?"
Quin turns off the mics and calms Victor down before he destroys the production desk.
"FUCK, HAVE YOU NOT DISGRACED THE FAMILY ENOUGH?" "Victor, you have to calm down. We have the biggest gig of the decade. Don't let your brother or anything stop you. And why are you pissed off? He's one of the brightest minds in his generation." "It must be a mistake. That doesn't make any sense for him to be here as one of the smartest. Dumbest, maybe, but not a snowball's chance in hell is he one of the smartest. You know what, professionalism. Let's get back to the show." Quin smiles at Victor.
Quin turns the mics back on.
"Er, James seems to be in, well, wonderland. We'll get back to him in a bit." "Apologies, everyone. I was not expecting my brother to be on the GC."
The crowd has mixed reactions, as Quin and Victor masterfully shifts the attention away from James and to the next participant.
"And moving on to the next brightest mind..."
EDIT: Formatting | 2016-03-03T06:05:43 | 2016-03-03T05:47:53 | 378 | 26 |
[WP] Every generation the five brightest are paired up with the five dumbest in the world for a mysterious test. You are one of the ten, but nobody knows from which group they came. | "Well OK, those 5 guys over there are literally barely functional human beings whereas the 5 of us are brilliant so I guess that settles which group is which. And, ok, here's the mysterious test...yeah, it's a calculus test. OK, I know calculus on account of I'm a fucking genius so thanks for wasting my time. Lets see how the other guys are doing...yeah, they've just shit themselves. They're all shitting themselves. Can I go home now? I was like, right in the middle of curing cancer." | In ancient times, there was a society that debated any important elective decision two times. The first debate occurred in the evening, with drinks and feasting. Thoroughly drunk, they would debate well into the night and put their decision to a vote before the end. Brilliant ideas might come about from the drunken simplicity. Complicated ideas might be thrown out because of their sheer monotony.
But! And this part was critical, there would be a second debate as the group sobered in the morning. This was their rational period. They'd pick apart what was discovered from the night before, and see if it was truly realistic or not.
To be accepted, an idea had to pass both of these votes. Once accepted, it would then be enacted.
---
Skipping to the modern day, we had a problem. To put it simply, we became too smart. Like a microscope focusing on individual mitochondrial DNA, our brains have become able to focus on the smallest of details. Have you ever seen someone haggling over pennies? I have.
Yet there are plenty of rich, wealthy individuals who don't even count their dollars. They have no need. Is it smart to count pennies when weighing millions? No. Penny wise and pound foolish.
And our world had gotten pound foolish indeed. Debate sparked across the nation. Answers coming from changing curriculum in schools, to fixing global warming, to electing more wise officials. In the Bible, God says that the wisdom of the world is foolishness to him. When weighing planets, who cares about a discount spending spree?
Thus there was the great political debate of 2016. The most brilliant and popular minds were flabbergasted, exhausted. Asked for a solution, they would drone on with reasons and thoughts. Never answering the question. Yet during one debate, by sheer accident, a child wandered onstage and climbed on a podium.
We laughed. We thought it was a joke. What came next shocked everyone. The debate announcer asked the child with a smile, "How would you solve world hunger?" "Give people food."
...The audience applauded. I mean. Technically it'd work.
The announcer ran with it. "And how would you solve the crisis in Ukraine?" "That sounds like Ukraine's problem to me..." The small voice trailed quietly.
There was a pause. The an eruption of applause. An embarrassed parent shuffled onstage, but the kid had already become a hit. Everyone tuning in to the big debate. The announcer covered his mike, "This kid is smart." A puzzled expression on his face. And the child became a viable contender in the presidential race.
---
Now we solve our issues in two ways. The intelligence test, and the child test. If your solution to fixing the economy requires more words than an child can understand, it's thrown out. Children are invited to debates on a regular basis, invited to advisory boards. More and more their simplicity became recognized. The trouble is, the children are the smart ones.
| 2016-03-03T07:24:25 | 2016-03-03T02:52:30 | 91 | 34 |
[WP] At 14, every human gains the ability to transform into their spirit animal. Your noble family, comprised entirely of wolves, isn't happy with your transformation... | My father Michael Walters and my mother Natalie were both well respected doctors. My older siblings- Vivian, Sam, and Edward were all gifted. Vivian was still moving through med school, Sam and Edward were focusing on engineering degrees.
I was the youngest, and I'd always felt like a disappointment. My whole family moved with grace and ease, keeping an aura of wisdom and poise at all time. I moved with clumsiness and unease. Mom assured me that when the time came, my spirit form would allow me to fully mature. To fit in.
"Don't worry, Peter" she'd say as she kissed me on the head. "You'll be just fine once you find your way."
And I believed her. So I blundered through school as best I could, yearning for the day to come where I'd fit in. To make up for my lack of academic success, I was the prankster of the school. While nobody could count on me to have the right answer to a question, they could count on me to make them laugh. And for now I was content with that.
When the night of my birthday arrived, I was *so* eager. Finally, I'd be able to tap into the wolven wisdom and power that had blessed my family back for generations. Finally, I'd stop being a joke. I'd be *respected* for once.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"God damn it Natalie" I whispered. "Our son *actually* got a wolf form. How the fuck is that even possible?"
"The spirits don't make mistakes. Maybe this will help him grow up?"
"You know it doesn't work like this, it's supposed to be a manifestation of who you already are. It doesn't help, it friggin *amplifies.* What are we supposed to do? He can't come to clan meetings, you know that. He has zero sense of decorum."
"Yeah... he does not have the temperament for those at all. If we bring him we are going to piss everyone off. Maybe piss them off enough to dethrone *you*. Wait. I have an idea."
"Breathless to hear it."
"We need to roll for his name still, right? If the spirits see fit to grant him a noble one, then *hopefully* we can keep him quiet at clan events and just... I dunno, cultivate an air of mystery?"
"Better than an air of tomfoolery and, I'm sorry but I have to say this, utter incompetence. He failed fourth grade, Natalie. Twice."
"He just has to sit there. He can do that."
"Fine... roll for his spirit name. Fingers crossed."
Nat bent over the star charts, and cast the handful of ancient carved stones. I leaned back from the table and waited for her to reveal what the spirits had chosen as our son's name.
God.
Fucking.
Damn it.
Moon Moon. | I wanted to dance, and jump, and sing, but the looks on my parents' faces stopped me cold. I had transformed, rather ungracefully, and stood before my parents, expecting them to be smiling and clapping after they saw me in all my glory, but their faces had fallen. Their smiles vanished and their hands didn't move from their sides. The noise I made in confusion was not the huff of a wolf, like I had heard from my parents many times before, but instead it was a snarl. A thick, feline snarl that caused everyone in the room to step back in fear.
My strength faded and I shifted back soon after, my own body shutting down on itself and causing me to collapse. When I came to, I was in my bed, but still in the ceremonial gown I was wearing earlier, and the light that filtered through my curtains was the soft glow of a full moon.
From the hall I heard voices, two voices belonging to my parents, who were vehemently arguing. I crept as quietly as I could up to the door to my father's office, and I laid an ear against the cool wood.
"...our daughter, Bjorn!" My mother's voice was sharp. "We knew this day would come-"
"And I intend to face it head on, like we were warned." He snapped. Normally when my father was angry, his tone was more irritated than completely enraged, but the way he spoke to my mother was unlike anything I had ever heard. Something had made him furious, and my stronger sense told me that it was my transformation. But why would he be angry about that, and not proud?
"Warned?" My mother laughed. "Some gown-wearing hooligans stroll into town, give you this 'warning' that someone in our family will be a danger to us all, and you just listen?"
My father shouted, and as he shouted, it rolled over into a howl that prickled the hairs on my neck. Glass shattered and my mother yelped. Fear pounded through me as I struggled to decide what to do. The door was locked, and if my father had pounced on my mother, then she was trapped in there with an angry wolf who sometimes lost control of himself. I knew the stories as well as my siblings did. Sometimes, if people spend too much time in their spirit-animal form, they start to... lose the human side of them, and they begin to take on the instincts and personality of their beast form. After that, they'd be more animal than human, and would have to be put down.
Wood cracked and splintered from inside the room, and as I heard another cry, I began to panic. I didn't want someone to call the guards, but I didn't want to handle this on my own. Before I could come to a decision, the fear decided for me. I felt the same adrenaline course through my veins that I had during the ceremony, and my bones started to shift and fold. As soon as it had begun, it was over, and I looked around with sharper vision, my fear having been replaced with energy.
With all my might, I barreled through the door, tearing it off its hinges, and two heads snapped upright to glare at me. One was the human face of my mother, blood dripping from her skull, and the other was the snarling wolf-face of my father, whose dark gray eyes were almost camouflaged against his thick black coat. He growled a deep, warning growl that meant I should leave, but the way his eyes stared into mine kept me in my place. He didn't even recognize me, I could see it.
"Marinda." my mother wheezed, her eyes glancing from me to my father. "Get out of here. Please. I'll handle this."
I whined at her and took a step forward, but my father was quick to block me.
"Marinda." My mother cooed my name as gently as she could. It only made me want to help her more. "Please, just go. Go to your uncle's house and wait for me there. I'll be okay, sweetie."
As bad as I wanted to stay and help her, to maybe try and convince my father to stand down, I knew that it was foolish. I was only 14, and he had far more experience than I in using his animal-form. Already my strength was fading, and if it weren't for the adrenaline that had fueled my break-in, I might have already shifted back. Ignoring my mind's pleas to stay and fight, I turned away from my parents and pushed as hard as I could off my back legs, propelling myself down the hall. I only caught a few glimpses of myself in the mirror, a mainly white coat, striped in black down the back, and eyes the color of ice.
I tore through the front door and landed on all fours in the wet grass, the moonlight casting strange shadows every which way. My strength was waning, but I had made a promise to my mother, and I intended to keep it. I would wait for her. The last thing I heard as I cut through the night were the painful howls of my father losing every last bit of humanity he had. | 2017-01-21T19:17:27 | 2017-01-21T18:59:29 | 956 | 19 |
[WP] A race of mages has expanded across the stars to harvest mana by seeding worlds with life. They arrive at a new star then a bright glow envelopes them. What followed are metal obelisks with a humanoid yelling into the void: "That was your warning shot. We will not let you reach Earth." | Maece stood at the helm of her ship, her fingers hovered over the glowing crystal that powered the ship’s engines and directed it where to go. Planet BX223, designated Earth, was the last of her planets to seed for eventual harvesting before she could go back home.
Already four years had passed since she had seen her daughter Gwendolyn. The girl would no longer be a toddler and would already have started in the arcane arts of her home world. Every Household held their own specialty passed down between the generations and for those without a household like Maece, it was deemed unnecessary to be around for the aging of their children. After all, if she had no specialty to offer, what was the worth of a mother?
But Maece spent her nights thinking about Gwendolyn. Would they share in their golden locks? Would her eyes be the muddy turquoise of her family? And the question that filled her eyes with tears because she already knew its answer—would Gwendolyn recognize me?
For those without Households, life was hard in Serenity. They had few job prospects, only offered such things as seeding and harvesting, the process by which they planted life into worlds and then harvested them for mana to bring back home.
“Vicky,” Maece said to the entity trapped within the crystal. “How much longer?”
“We’re entering surrounding Earth-space in a few seconds,” Vicky said. “I’m slowing us down to light speed in preparation.”
Maece nodded. She kept her eyes straight ahead, watching the green-blue hunk of rock expanding in her view. One last planet and she could see Gwendolyn again. “All hands,” she said to her crew of five other House-less mages. “Prepare to seed.”
The ship abruptly stopped. A beam of yellow shot through space, eviscerating the blackness in its blinding light. Maece blocked her eyes. It burned like she was staring into a nearby star.
“What the hell was that, Vicky?”
“Fire-based weaponry,” Vicky said. “Allotting power to shield systems now.”
Maece dipped her hands into the crystal, her fingers sinking into it as it turned to gel. Instantly, her mind had fused with Vicky’s. She peered through Vicky’s sensors, looking for the assailant. She found them, four metal obelisks as big as their ship in a circle surrounding Earth.
“That was your warning shot,” a voice came from one of the pillars. “We will not let you reach Earth.”
“This is the Serenity Pathfinder on a routine seeding mission,” Maece said through Vicky’s voice. ”Lower your weapons. Planet designation Earth was determined to have no salvageable life.”
“Only by your council,” the voice replied. “You do not get to play God so far away from home.”
Maece nearly laughed. The mages of Serenity might as well have been gods for how powerful they were. However, she was in a scout-class ship without any heavy weaponry and only House-less mages to support her. And whatever these obelisks were, they packed a punch.
“Why protect a doomed planet?” Maece asked. “If you do not let me proceed, I will be forced to contact Serenity’s main battle force.”
“We are prepared for death.”
Maece clenched her jaw. At the speed Serenity’s bureaucracy went, it would take five years just for her order to be read. By then, Gwendolyn would be a teenager and she would be the mother that never showed up.
“You would go so far to protect *Earth*?”
“Life is not a number you can plug into an equation and spit out its value.” The obelisks, shifted and spat out its main guns.
“By every calculation, the current life on Earth is doomed to wipe itself out anyways. The end result is the same, whether it is through us or them. Surely, you’ve done the calculations yourself. Are you saying you’ll intervene?”
“No. We will let it play out to its final conclusion.”
“Foolish.” Maece never understood these rebels. They lacked the logic needed to thrive throughout the universe. That was why Serenity was a planet of gods and them the worshippers.
“What are your commands, Maece?” Vicky asked.
Maece nibbled on the inside of her cheek. The obvious answer was to wait. They were outgunned, outnumbered, and had no intelligence on these obelisk structures. However, there was a little girl waiting for her back at home.
Gwendolyn probably didn’t even know Maece existed. She probably didn’t stay up lights like her mother did thinking about her. Logically speaking, she would recognize Maece just the same if their meeting came today or ten years from now.
A grin parted Maece’s lips. Just when she had mocked these beings for the irrational thought, here she was with her own. “Push forward, Vicky, prepare for battle.”
“Commander, I must warn you that you are choosing the least optimal strategy.”
“I know Vicky, but do it anyways.”
The ship lurched forward and the obelisks took aim.
---
---
/r/jraywang for 2+ stories a day, continuations by popular demand, and more!
| “They’re not stopping.”
“How can you tell?” Jooahn asked curiously. The image in the rippling mists suspended in the middle of the focusing stones was hard for him to decipher. Not because it was unclear, but because it was simply a strange vessel that seemed to be simply sitting against a field of star speckled blackness.
“I can tell,” Binal said. She was gesturing slowly. Energy trailed from her fingers, into the edges of the mists. Shifting colors and position as she manipulated the currents.
“Maybe they just want to—”
“To what?” the shaman interrupted. “Don’t tell me you’re a doubter now too.”
He scowled, his cheeks reddening a little. “Your fight is with the elders, not me.”
“Now it’s with them too,” she said, nodding at the mists.
“We can wait can’t we?”
“Why would we wait?”
“To see if they’re friendly. Not everyone’s an enemy.”
Binal pulled one of her hands away from the reached out posture she’d been maintaining as she fiddled with the astral mists. Holding it cocked to one side, she flexed those fingers and abruptly a very small mist appeared. Within it appeared a star chart.
“I’ve seen—” Jooahn began, but Binal interrupted.
“Over a dozen stars that I have found. These people, whoever they are, at each,” she said as the chart began winking dots out, one by one; showing stars going out. “You know what it means if they do that here, right?”
“The crops won’t grow.”
“Everything on this world dies,” Binal said, letting the small image fade. She stretched her hand back toward the larger image, and new currents flicked out to connect her fingers with it once more. “Without the light of the sun, there is no life. Not crops, not animals, not us; not anything.”
“I believe you.”
“Good. Because we need to do something.”
“Okay,” Jooahn said with a nod, trying to sound confident. Then, as the seconds went on and the shaman continued studying the astral mist like it was a puzzle problem, he cleared his throat. “Uh, what?”
“Tell the elders they need to call for volunteers.”
“Volunt … no,” the man said, his voice dropping into a horrified whisper.
“There is no other way.”
“Try warning them again.”
“They have ignored it, and the one after as well. I lack the power to reach out to them before they begin draining our sun. It is necessary.”
“Sacrificing hundreds?”
“To save thousands upon thousands,” she said. “Even our enemies. I would propose a raid to seize hostile warriors for this, but I doubt there is time.”
“Binal—”
“Jooahn, do you want to see all our people have worked for perish? What of your son?”
His eyes flicked down to her belly. It had not begun to swell enough to show through her clothes, but the midwives confirmed that she was with child. “So you say.”
“It is a boy. I know.”
“So you say,” he repeated.
“Even if I am wrong, there are other sons. Other daughters. Everyone. When we war, or have war brought upon us, some die that others might live. To save us. This will be a sacrifice, but will save everyone. I might even be able to use it to barter good will with other tribes.”
“They will never believe you.”
“Their shaman might. They understand these things.”
Jooahn sighed. “I will tell the elders to assemble. But you must speak to them.”
* * * * *
The chanting swelled, filling the monument circle. At every stone people knelt, blood dripping from their arms to run down small channels carved out of the ground. The blood flowed toward the stones to pool at the bases. Atop the stones, more stood, holding braziers lit with strangely burning fires. The colored smoke swirled out and mingled with the building energies above the stone tops.
That energy crackled like lightning brought to life. Every shift of the astral currents was like a snap of breaking wood, and beneath those sharper sounds was a steadily increasing hum of ominous power. Jooahn stood a short distance from the outer edge of the focusing circle, watching with others from the tribe. Near him the elders stood, arms folded, scowling as Binal stood in the exact center of the circle with her arms upraised.
All the energy was pouring out of her. Ritual magic flowed from her hands, swelling upward to encircle every stone, and then surge into a swirl above her. Growing. Widening. It had to be soon now, Jooahn knew. Even for as complicated and dangerous as she’d said this ceremony would be, he’d witnessed enough to guess when it—
There was an enormous crack, like the air itself had become angry. The swirl of magic turned into a beam of raw power that shot upward, away from the stones. Beneath the eruption, the chanting turned into screams as the volunteers’ bodies were consumed. Turned to supplying that which was necessary to fuel the spell Binal was directing. They vanished amid violet flames, agonized shadows for an instant before their bodies faded to mere skeletons, and then even their bones came apart and followed the magic upward away from the circle.
The bolt rushed up, piercing the clouds. Outshining even the moon itself. Only when every stone stood alone did the power finally begin to fade. As quickly as it had appeared, it took long moments to coalesce into a thinner and thinner beam before it finally ended. Binal collapsed, panting. Unable to hold back any longer, Jooahn started forward.
He’d made it one step when there was a feedback explosion. Then he found himself on his back, dozens of steps from where he’d been. Sitting up with a pained wince, he saw a number of the stones had been knocked over. Others were simply gone. Frantically he scrambled to his feet. Binal lay where she’d collapsed, and she wasn’t moving.
When he skidded to a stop next to her on his knees, he saw she was breathing. Rolling her over, he slapped at her face urgently. “Binal? Wake up.”
“Did it work?” the chief asked, joining them. He stood looking down at her, ignoring Jooahn entirely.
“Binal?” Jooahn asked, slapping her again.
“Speak shaman.”
“It is done,” she said in a shallow voice.
“You’re alive,” Jooahn said, relieved.
“They are not,” Binal said, opening her eyes. They were bloodshot, and hollowed back in their sockets. But she started trying to sit up.
“You are sure?” the chief asked.
“I am. I felt them perish.”
“So we are safe?”
“For now.”
“Good,” the chief said, and turned.
As he stalked away, Jooahn looked down at his wife. “You are not doing that again.”
“I can’t,” she said as she leaned against him, still sitting. “Not unless I can convince him to rebuild the circle.” She looked at the stones that still stood, her face lined with worry.
“That is a problem for another time. Let me take you back to the hut. So you can rest. In some months our son will join us. Perhaps it can be his concern, if we are lucky.”
“If we are very lucky, it will be many sons hence before they return,” she said, nodding slightly.
* * * * *
I collect all my flash fic [here](https://www.reddit.com/r/DavesWorld/). If you liked this, the others might be interesting too. Enjoy! | 2017-06-05T11:06:16 | 2017-06-05T10:56:15 | 61 | 24 |
[WP] The year is 2038 and net neutrality has been dead for almost two decades. But a rebellious group managed to travel back to 2017...
https://www.battleforthenet.com/#bftn-action-form
Edit: Obligatory thanks for the gold! Just trying to do my part on this fight, but as I don't live in the US, raising awareness is the most I can do, glad it worked! | The suite on the sixth floor of the Trump International Hotel, Washington D.C., was decorated in chestnut and tan. The headboard of the king size bed was carved as if it was a coat of arms of some legitimate monarch, and was trimmed with fake gold, which poorly matched the Kremlin red, velvet throw pillows. Like the room's single, useless accent wall, the curtains were a brutal cerulean, suggesting a space that conceals more deception than the dark seabed of a Vladivostok harbor. In all, the suite was reminiscent of something a Tsar might have once maintained, perhaps as quarters for secondary guests in some Eastern Palace. Nevertheless, on that particular Pennsylvania Avenue afternoon, Ajit Pai, FCC Chairman, felt anything but secondary.
Ajit rolled over on the sheets, letting his chesthair peak out from his robe, and then stretching all the way from his scapula to his calves. Laying beside him, Lowell C. McAdam, CEO of Verizon Communications, picked another chocolate covered strawberry from the bowl. He placed it in Ajit's mouth, letting his hand linger on his former General Counsel's lips just a moment too long.
"You know I love dessert," Ajit said, "but I hope you have something else for me."
"I don't recall you ever being so direct before, my Sugar Plum" Lowell returned, clasping Ajit's buttocks.
"Maybe those FTC boys go easy on you," Ajit answered, pulling away, but only a little, only for show, "but I'm from the FCC, so you better show me the cash first!"
Lowell sighed. He spun off the bed. He sauntered over to the bureau and picked up a leather briefcase with two silver latches. Lowell showed Ajit what was inside: stacks and stacks of crisp hundred dollar bills.
"Just to be clear," Lowell explained, "every last cent of this is to repeal net neutrality. You're giving me that ass for free."
Lowell pounced down on top of Ajit, groping at him the way a crude man only does to a prostitute. Ajit loved feeling bought and paid for. He giggled and squealed, and the two men kissed.
But suddenly, the passion and privacy of the suite was shattered by a flash of light and a thunderous clap. The hideous furniture Ivanka had inexplicably wanted credit for rattled along the carpet. When the two lovers and conspirators regained their composure, there was a strange young man and woman standing before them, wearing tattered jeans and leather vests. They both had AK-47s draped over their shoulders. The woman punched Ajit hard in the jaw.
"Are you Ajit Pai the FCC chairman or Ajit Pai the cricketer!" she demanded. Her face was stained with dirt.
"What? Who are you? Where did you come from?" Ajit asked, favoring his chin, his whole body quivering.
"FCC chairman or cricketer!" the woman shouted again, brandishing the AK-47 at the frightened, half naked businessman, and lobbyist pretending to be a guard of the public interest.
"FCC!" Ajit replied, "Yes, I'm with the FCC!"
"You know why she had to ask that, motherfucker?" the rough man began, "because the only other famous Ajit Pai was a fucking cricket player, and where we come from, Wikipedia pages take twenty minutes to load, unless you pay an extra $9.99 a month! So all we really had to go on was the fucking disambiguation page. You know how hard it is to tell an artificially intelligent time machine where you want to go, when all it can access are the goddamn disambiguation pages?"
The man picked Ajit up, and threw him onto the bed. He did the same to Lowell.
"Your little side deal here," the woman explained to the telecommunications executives, "let me tell you how this goes down. First, you repeal net neutrality for some chump change kickback. Then, of course, all the asshole ISPs start tacking on surcharges for people to get on pretty much all the good websites, until nobody could afford more than one. So, the same thing happened that always happens when you force people to choose teams. Society broke apart completely. Soon, the Youtubian Republic was throwing molotov cocktails at the Facebook Moms, and the Netflixtariat were being rounded up by the Insta-thots. Nobody talks to each other or shares anything, and it is terrible."
Ajit and Lowell looked to the door and windows, thinking of any possible escape. But there was none. They were hostages of an uncaring power who had no concern for their well being.
"But there was one silver lining to not having the web you're used to," the rough man continued, "Without an open internet, nobody else got to find out that we finally cracked how to build a fully operational time machine. We didn't tweet about it or do a single AMA. Because why would we? There'd be nobody online to see it. That means we were able to skip all the bullshit and just travel right back here, right to this moment, before you two fucked each other, and then the whole country."
"Are," Lowell stammered, "are you going to kill us?"
The time travelers laughed, then stuck peculiar glowing orbs on the lovers' chests.
"No, we're not going to kill you," the woman replied, "instead, we're just going to send you boys into the future you're trying to create. And we'll stay back here in 2017, when things were at least only halfway terrible."
"What? No, you can't!" Ajit shouted.
"Sure we can," the man told him, "because time travel has no regulations. I thought you loved it when technology has no regulation."
The woman pushed a button on a strange remote. The suite filled with another flash of light. Ajit and Lowell embraced. They vanished. | It's January 19th, 2038. For years, Susan had been working in secret on her time machine. Her goal? Not to kill Hitler. Not to stop Trump. Not to meet Jesus. Her goal is to make it so she can watch Netflix and download games on Steam without having to pay an extra premium. A noble, but petty goal, all things considered.
She sets the time circuits to November 23rd, 2017. She sees this as the pivotal turning point -- Thanksgiving Day. The day that everyone in the United States is at home with their families, and most likely watching Football or the Macy's parade. When it will be easiest to get their attention.
She thinks she has it all figured out. She's tested the machine a few times before to go backwards days and even weeks. This will be her biggest jump. Ironically, much like the original Delorean in Back to the Future her ship is fueled by raw plutonium. Also, ironically, thanks to the Trump regime (which has been in power for 20 years thanks to a military coup) she lives in a Libertarian utopia (by which I mean a dystopia) and you can buy plutonium at the corner drug store, just as Doc Brown joked about in Back to the Future. Anyway, enough about how great of a movie Back to the Future is.
The amount of plutonium it depletes is based on how far into the past she travels. She's figured out the exact ratio needed for 2017. In order to be safe and not run out, she's purchased ten times the required amount. She has no plans of getting stranded like in some dumb TV show or movie.
But she's made one specific error. One that would not have exposed itself until this very day, this very hour, this very minute, this very second. Somewhere in the hardware of her time machine, between the interface of the time circuits and the hardware that actually does the quantum calculation on how much fuel to use to bend time and space, there's a chip that takes a 64 bit integer and converts it to a 32 bit one if that number can losslessly be converted. This is an undocumented feature of the chip used to help it do calculations faster. An optimization created by a machine learning algorithm that creates most modern chips of her day.
The impact of this bug is that her time machine is unknowingly affected by the Unix Epoch Bug. As the machine is warming up, the clock ticks over to 03:14:07 UTC. Instead of the time calculation being for -17 years, 1 month, 27 days, from January 19th, 2038, it gets calculated as -17 years, 1 month, 27 days from December 13th, 1901, also known as October 27th, 1884. And because she took ten times the required fuel, which would have enabled her to do ~200 years worth of time travel, the machine happily consumes 3/4 of her fuel to send her 154 years back in time, stranding her with only enough fuel to make it less than a third of the way back home.
As the machine hums to life, nothing seems out of the ordinary to Susan. She's transferred all her data to a 20-year-old laptop so she'll be able to interface with older computers easily. She's brought what she hopes will be enough information to prove to people that not only is she from the future, but that net neutrality is the number one issue that people should be concerned about for the future. More important that global warming, ISIS, North Korea, the 2025 war with Russia, any of that. If only they'd had consistent download speeds, all of that could have been avoided and all those problems solved!
Also at this time I'd like to point out that 21 years (2038 to 2017) is greater than two decades, not "almost two decades." Anyway, I digress.
A flash and a sudden jolt later, and Susan is in 1884. She'd picked the location of her time jump knowing that it would be an empty field in 2017. But in 1884 it was a dense forest. It had not yet been cleared for a cow pasture. There was no Google Street View for her to reference that far back to confirm. There's a small explosion, several pops, and a burning smell as tree trunks around her burst outward as they're displaced in spacetime by her vehicle. A few seconds later, she hears creaking as the damaged trunks bend and break as the trees awkwardly fall around her. She nervously waits out the unexpected cataclysm, hoping it's over. "What the fuck?" she demands, annoyed and frustrated. Then she looks at the time circuits. "What the fuck. God damn it."
*How did this happen?* she thinks to herself. *I took so many precautions. I tested it so many times. So many simulations. How the hell did this happen?* But unfortunately for her, because the chip I mentioned earlier was developed using machine learning, it was essentially a black box in her simulation. Whenever she had tested the chip, the inputs and outputs gave her the values she expected. When she simulated the chip, it was only simulated in terms of its expected inputs and outputs. And she'd never tested it when the current date was after the end of the Unix Epoch. She just hadn't considered it. She never intended to travel to the future, only the past. By 2037, nearly all modern computers and software had long ago been fixed to work around or account for the bug. It just wasn't something people thought about anymore. It seemed like a solved problem.
She activated the augmented reality system that would allow her to look outside the vehicle quickly without leaving it, in order to assess if anything had been damaged. There were some tree trunks leaning on the vehicle and some dents, but overall it seemed to not have taken too much damage. The noise of her arrival also didn't seem to have attracted any unwanted attention. She checked her fuel gauge: slightly less than a quarter remaining. If she activated the ship now to go forward, she could barely make it to 1930. Not good enough. No one would even know what the internet was at that time!
She sat and thought for a few more minutes. *What if I did something like, living one year normally, then traveling forward a year using the time machine? How far could I get that way?* 1976. Plus that would take up literally 46 years of her life, and put the time machine at risk of being stolen or breaking in the interim. And people would still barely know what the internet was! *What if I found more fuel? When was plutonium discovered anyway? Could I use an alternative fuel? Uranium maybe?* She opened her laptop and went to her offline copy of Wikipedia. *Good thing I paid my ISP for Wikipedia Premium service in order to quickly download the entire database before embarking on this trip.* she thought to herself. And then immediately admonished herself for thinking that way. *No! Fuck that! That's exactly the bullshit I came back to fight against! Fuck paying a premium just to have Wikipedia move faster than a 56k modem! Great. Now I'm pissed off again.* She vowed to herself that her mission must succeed!
>Plutonium was first produced and isolated on December 14, 1940 by a deuteron bombardment of uranium-238 in the 60-inch cyclotron at the University of California, Berkeley. First neptunium-238 (half-life 2.1 days) was synthesized which subsequently beta-decayed to form this new element with atomic number 94 and atomic weight 238 (half-life 87.7 years). Since uranium had been named after the planet Uranus and neptunium after the planet Neptune, element 94 was named after Pluto, which at the time was considered to be a planet as well.
*Those idiots, still considering Pluto a planet. People in the past were so dumb. So, 1940. That's only ten years of my life wasted. I think that's do-able.* Then, hating herself for doing it, she brought up the article on Back to the Future. *1885. And I ended up in 1884. What a stupid coincidence. Well, almost-coincidence. Maybe it's not a coincidence and so much of my work has intersected with that movie because I accidentally leave some information in the past? Nah. It's got to be a coincidence.*
Anyway, I just wanted to make a 2038 Unix Epoch Bug joke. | 2022-06-27T06:31:08 | 2017-11-21T23:19:27 | 4,450 | 16 |
[WP] The year is 2038 and net neutrality has been dead for almost two decades. But a rebellious group managed to travel back to 2017...
https://www.battleforthenet.com/#bftn-action-form
Edit: Obligatory thanks for the gold! Just trying to do my part on this fight, but as I don't live in the US, raising awareness is the most I can do, glad it worked! | Ajit Pai lied back on his throne and sipped his goblet. He roared in laughter Soon Net Neutrality would be repealed, and every link on the internet would redirect to a picture of his face unless people payed money to make it go away.
Suddenly, a group of brave souls appeared out of nowhere.
“Mr. Pai, we came from the year 2038 to stop your reign of terror! In the future, we have to pay 1000 dollars just to browse Google!” the man charged towards Ajti and threw a phone at him.
“NO! Calls to your senators! My only weakness!” Pai started to melt away.
“I almost got away with it, but you brave group of future resistors foiled my evil plans! Curse you, the C.I.R.C.L.E.J.E.R.K.E.R.S!!!!!” and with that, he melted into a pile of goo.
“Great work gang! Now let’s go stop EA!” The members of the group pulled off their masks, revealing none other than Bernie Sanders, Elon Musk, and Dan Harmon, as they raced off into the night. | November, 2017. A month right before everything went wrong. It all started out with that repeal of net neutrality. Almost immediately, the ISP's began to go back on their promises that they wouldn't limit access for customers. Within a few months, the ISP's managed to stratify the internet by wealth. Internet culture came to a screeching halt in early 2018 as numerous websites deemed as "high bandwidth content" began to go bland and die due to severe restrictions on their access by the general public. There was outrage, of course, but like with many things, the fury died down, and people accepted that this is the way the world was. Slowly but surely, more and more websites began to disappear from the web as their content became more and more restricted. The ISP's became all the more powerful, as they aggressively tried to buy out platforms like Twitter, Tumblr, Reddit, and other social media to further advance their profit margins. The websites that resisted the buyouts were strangled to death with access restrictions. By the time Trump was impeached for the 9th and final time, the damage his negligence caused was irreversible. The ISP's had become all powerful. All information passed through them, and secretly, they were in the process of merging behind the scenes into one massive conglomerate ISP. When the federal government tried to break them up, the conglomerate ISP, eventually known as The Provider, shut down all government services. It was chaos. Since the Provider controlled the flow of all information, it was easy to paint the situation as a failure of governance. The Provider was more than happy to take the mantle as the New Government of the United States.
The year is now 2038. If George Orwell could see the world we are living in, he would die of terror. Three years ago, the Provider mandated that all people have a chip installed in their brains. They were sold as a "virtualized access chips", but that was only on the surface. These were Death Chips. These chips knew the account balance of the people they were implanted in, and if that balance did not qualify for certain levels for information access on the Net, then higher brain function was reduced. These chips literally reduced the thinking capacity of those with low account balances, so much so to create a slave race of drone workers. If an unhappy soul reaches 0, well... brain death.
A few of us escaped the implementation of the chips. For three years, we have been living off the grid in the wastes of Montana, fighting back against the Provider, although never with resounding success. That was until a couple weeks ago. A crazed old man who claims to be a scientists came to us about a year ago with this insane idea about time travel. He said he used to work for the Provider, in their research and development department. When he realized they were entrusting him to create a time machine for the purpose of rewritting history to suit their diabolical needs, he took all their research, and fled, making sure to purge all information relating to the project. We all thought he was crazy, but now it seems he was right. As we prepare to send our first agents back in time to sabatage the ISP's before they sprout their evil, I try to think of a world where digital information is free flowing and equal. As I step into 2017 to fulfill my assigned mission, I shed a single tear seeing how free and open the internet is. It must be protected. At all cost. | 2022-08-04T05:58:14 | 2017-11-21T23:07:37 | 186 | 28 |
[WP]"This is how it works," Death explained. "You pick the game and we play. Cheating is allowed, but if either one of us is caught by the other, they lose. If you win, you'll wake up back in the hospital and I'll give you another 10 years. If you lose then it's time for judgement. Understood? | "Are you ready, Mary," asked Death, laying his scythe against the white wall of the hospital room.
Her old eyes twinkled. "I've... I've been wondering when you'd show up."
"Ten years have passed, Mary. It is time." He placed a bony hand inside his robe's pocket and fished around until he found the object.
A packet of cards.
"Do you remember the very first time?" Mary asked, staring distantly beyond Death. "That we met. That we played."
There was no smile to be seen within the shadowed cowl, but Death's voice was soft when he replied. Warm. "You were the first to best me, Mary. I wouldn't be able to forget that, even if I could."
"How old was I back then?"
"Six." He didn't need to think. The memory was a part of him. Each of them were.
"Do you offer every one a chance?"
"No."
"Then... *why me?*" asked the elderly lady.
Death paused. Remembering. Those huge green eyes had been so full of life, even though the skinny, bald child was not. The innocence that burned like a candle, hadn't deserved to be snuffed out that soon. Gods be damned!
He looked at Mary again. The candle burned low now, wrinkled and withered and frail. But those eyes... still brighter than any he'd seen.
"*Because.*"
Mary laughed. "You never were one for explaining."
"Are you ready?" The cards hissed as he shuffled them between his fingers.
"I'm sorry. But... I can't play this time."
"... It doesn't have to be cards, Mary. It could be like that first time, chutes and ladders. Where you made me look out of the window, because the dead were rising and I..."
"Only, they weren't," she laughed. "Of course they weren't. But you looked anyway. You know, I thought I was so clever back then. That I'd tricked Death! But no one beats death. Not in the end."
He looked at his Mary. Her eyes, although still full of life, were like turquoise waves crashing against rocks. There was a pain in them now. But...
Death dealt Mary two cards. "Blackjack," he said.
Mary's arms didn't move.
"Do you need me to play for you?"
"I don't want to play at all."
"... Mary. You're not ready."
"No, Death my love. *You* are not ready."
"You are wrong, I--"
"Death, I am *old*. Far older than I have any right to be. Far older than I *want* to be. I treasure our times together, the games, the talks, the advice you gave me -- you were always as wise as you were old. You know, you were the one constant in my life. The one unmoving rock that I built my world upon. But now, my dear, my world ends."
Death said nothing for a time. "I- I shall play for you." He reached over to the cards on Mary's bed, and turned the first over. It was an ace.
Mary winced.
"Please, don't look like that," he said. "Please."
"Then let me go."
"I... can't. I'm sorry." He reached for the second card, his arm trembling beneath his cloak as his fingers neared.
Mary moved her own hand very slowly from her side. Death saw the extra card she held. A two of hearts.
"Mary, *why?*."
"I love you," she whispered as she placed the card by the ace. "Always."
For a long while Death sat there in silence, watching the only human he had ever cared about as her chest stopped moving.
Eventually, he leaned forward and drew her eyelids down.
"Goodbye, Mary."
| It was a relatively simple deal, and I had no reason to push the issue. One game, winner takes my soul. I nodded.
"Good. So then, what do you want to play? Think carefully - the stakes are high, and you don't want to have regrets."
It was almost as if she wanted to give me another decade - but it could also be a trick to lure me into a false sense of security. I wasn't wholly prepared for this, truth be told - but I couldn't let her win.
I wracked my brain thinking of a game. I had enjoyed video games over the last decade or so, but they were presumably easier with practice, and if death existed, he - well, she - had an eternity. This also ruled out the classics - checkers, go, chess - as she was probably so much more experienced than I am at them.
What about Monopoly? House rules, however, were an easy way to lose that, and I'm frankly not sure if I remembered all of the rules. Besides, that may take 10 years itself.
There was no game that was a safe bet. Most had too much chance. Swinging heavily into that - like Chutes & Ladders - would just bore Death and become a 'who can cheat best' competition. And I imagine Death had Lady Luck on her side.
"Come on, now, you don't have forever..."
I decided to go for broke.
"OK - what is your favorite game?"
"What?" She seemed taken aback.
"I don't know what type of games you play. I don't have any knowledge to choose something where I have an advantage, and I have no reason to believe I can beat you at anything. Given that, I might as well at least let you enjoy the game."
She scoffed, but then the weirdest feeling washed over me. I had never felt a smile without seeing it, but it felt... relaxed.
"I like simple games - ones with an element of chance, but also a fairness to them. So how about... a shell game?"
I nodded again. That seems simple enough.
On the bedside tray, three ebony cups materialized. You would think that Death would have ancient chalices; these were nearly perfect, non-reflective, and almost hurt to look at. It felt slightly like my eyes were broken. Of course, that might just be old age creeping up.
She brought her bony hands up. "As you can see, I have one red and two white balls. Take them."
I was surprised for a moment, then realized her variant. "Ah, so I get to place them in the cups?"
"Exactly - then I move them, and you must find the red one. I'll leave the room."
She stepped outside.
An easy way to try to cheat would have simply been to hold the red ball, but that would have been easy to detect, and I didn't want her to have the satisfaction. I simply put the red ball in the left cup and the whites in the other two. "OK!"
She came back in. "OK. You can watch if you want. It may or may not help you - but I assure you I can go much faster if I wanted."
With blinding speed, she weaved the cups back and forth. It wasn't superhuman, but watching that cup was hard. I was certain I still had it, however, and made my selection - the right-most cup.
She placed her hand on mine. "Before you lift the cup, let me 'Monty Hall' it." She placed her other hand on the center cup, and pulled it off the table - it disappeared in a puff of smoke. "Now, do you still want your cup?"
I nodded. This was my choice, I was certain.
"Fine." She pulled the other cup away into another cloud of smoke, then removed her cold hand from my own. "Claim your prize."
I lifted the cup - slowly, as if I was scared. I wasn't.
Until I saw what was under the cup.
"No. NO! That's not right!"
Death chuckled. This was a different sensation washing over me - it felt as if I had no control over anything.
"Those were the terms. You find the red ball, you get ten more years of earthly freedom."
I stared intently at the red ball on the table. "No! I was certain it was a white one. Let me see the oth- you removed them!"
"Well, unless you have proof that I cheated, I'm afraid you'll have to abide by the terms of our agreement."
I began to protest, but everything went dark.
I woke up in the hospital bed - I couldn't tell if I had been asleep for days or seconds.
The red ball sat on the tray, mocking me. I picked it up to hurl it away - stiff and sore, but very much alive - and I felt a slosh in my hand. I broke the ball open, and inside was a red liquid, a paper inner layer, and a thin membrane inside that. She HAD cheated, and the proof had been right in front of me.
I hurled the remnants of the ball across the room, then did the same with the small, empty vial. The poison should have done the trick, and did - but then I was fooled.
A nurse heard my commotion and came in. She didn't move to restrain me, but she did gently press me back into the bed. "Mr. Karcher, please... I don't know if you can understand me, but if you can, please calm down. I understand that the dementia is confusing, but you will only keep any of your faculties if you calm down."
I relaxed, and she looked over at the tray.
"Who left this note?"
I looked at her and the note she held, with a more honest confusion than I'd had in weeks - at least, up until a few moments ago.
"'Don't play games with me - you might win. Cheers, D' Well, whoever it was has impeccable penmanship." She showed me the note. "There's even a little smiley face. Well, I'm not sure who came to visit you, but hopefully they'll visit again. I'll leave the note here."
Satisfied, she left. All I could do was glare at the note, and know that I had to wait at least 10 years for a return visit. | 2018-03-07T06:34:15 | 2018-03-07T06:00:47 | 1,727 | 305 |
[WP]"This is how it works," Death explained. "You pick the game and we play. Cheating is allowed, but if either one of us is caught by the other, they lose. If you win, you'll wake up back in the hospital and I'll give you another 10 years. If you lose then it's time for judgement. Understood? | "This is how it works," Death explained. "You pick the game and we play. Cheating is allowed, but if either one of us is caught by the other, they lose. If you win, you'll wake up back in the hospital and I'll give you another 10 years. If you lose then it's time for judgement. Understood?
Alison did the math. She was 11, and another ten years would get her to 21, a lifetime away. If she won this she'd get to do all the things she really wanted to do, all the things her older sister got to do. At thirteen she might be able to wear makeup out of the house and get her own phone. Maybe she'd get to go to high school, learn to drive.
"Eleven," Alison thought. "I'm just too young to die. I've got a lot of unfinished business."
Death didn't seem as scary as she had originally thought. She thought he looked, quite frankly, like Santa clause and Einstein put together. Beneath wire frame spectacles he blinked clear blue eyes and there were just the right amount of wrinkles along his face. He was crowned with unruly white hair, and wore the same type of blue button up shirt her grandpa wore all the time. When he walked past her, he smelled a bit like campfire smoke and a bit like her mother's garden in bloom. She felt like he was autumn and spring all together.
He broke her thinking with another question. "So, Alison. What do you want to play?"
"Why do you smell like you smell?" She asked.
"What do you mean?"
"You smell like springtime and campfires."
"I travel a lot," Death said. "To places that smell like spring and like campfires."
"I travel, too," Alison said. "We go on vacation in summer sometimes to the beach and sometimes to the mountains. Dad says we are lucky because we can get to both in a few hours."
Death looked at her with half a smile on his face.
"Which one do you like more?" he asked her, curious.
"I like them both equally, I think. Well. Maybe the beach more. I like swimming a lot. My grandparents have a pool in their backyard and in summer my sister Caroline drives us over and we can play in the pool and take naps. Everyone knows you have to sleep after you swim, it just makes you so tired."
"Hmm..." Death nodded.
"You know? I think that I figured out what game I want to play."
"What game?"
"It's my favorite summer swimming game. Under water gymnastics."
"What?"
"Yeah! It's the best game. You get your grandma to judge it since she always is on the side of the pool."
"What?"
"Yep, here are the rules. You can do any gymnastics move under water and then grandma judges it."
"How does she judge it?"
"I'm not sure, only I know sometimes I win some events and sometimes Caroline wins some events but it's always very close."
"What?"
"You said I can pick the game. I pick underwater gymnastics! Since we need it to be fair we can ask your grandma and my grandma to be the judges."
"What?"
"That's the rules!"
"I don't have a grandma."
"Hmmm...do you have a mom?"
"No..."
"A dad?"
"Not really..."
"Then I guess we'll just have to go with just my grandma. Don't worry, she's a very fair judge. Is there any way you can go get her?"
Death pursed his lips, stifling a laugh. In all of his years of the ridiculous games he sometimes had to play with people he'd never been asked to play underwater gymnastics with a grandma for a judge. And he knew that with these stakes and such a partial judge there's no way he'd win...and maybe that's just the way he wanted it.
"Ok kid...you got it...lets go get your grandma..."
| It was a relatively simple deal, and I had no reason to push the issue. One game, winner takes my soul. I nodded.
"Good. So then, what do you want to play? Think carefully - the stakes are high, and you don't want to have regrets."
It was almost as if she wanted to give me another decade - but it could also be a trick to lure me into a false sense of security. I wasn't wholly prepared for this, truth be told - but I couldn't let her win.
I wracked my brain thinking of a game. I had enjoyed video games over the last decade or so, but they were presumably easier with practice, and if death existed, he - well, she - had an eternity. This also ruled out the classics - checkers, go, chess - as she was probably so much more experienced than I am at them.
What about Monopoly? House rules, however, were an easy way to lose that, and I'm frankly not sure if I remembered all of the rules. Besides, that may take 10 years itself.
There was no game that was a safe bet. Most had too much chance. Swinging heavily into that - like Chutes & Ladders - would just bore Death and become a 'who can cheat best' competition. And I imagine Death had Lady Luck on her side.
"Come on, now, you don't have forever..."
I decided to go for broke.
"OK - what is your favorite game?"
"What?" She seemed taken aback.
"I don't know what type of games you play. I don't have any knowledge to choose something where I have an advantage, and I have no reason to believe I can beat you at anything. Given that, I might as well at least let you enjoy the game."
She scoffed, but then the weirdest feeling washed over me. I had never felt a smile without seeing it, but it felt... relaxed.
"I like simple games - ones with an element of chance, but also a fairness to them. So how about... a shell game?"
I nodded again. That seems simple enough.
On the bedside tray, three ebony cups materialized. You would think that Death would have ancient chalices; these were nearly perfect, non-reflective, and almost hurt to look at. It felt slightly like my eyes were broken. Of course, that might just be old age creeping up.
She brought her bony hands up. "As you can see, I have one red and two white balls. Take them."
I was surprised for a moment, then realized her variant. "Ah, so I get to place them in the cups?"
"Exactly - then I move them, and you must find the red one. I'll leave the room."
She stepped outside.
An easy way to try to cheat would have simply been to hold the red ball, but that would have been easy to detect, and I didn't want her to have the satisfaction. I simply put the red ball in the left cup and the whites in the other two. "OK!"
She came back in. "OK. You can watch if you want. It may or may not help you - but I assure you I can go much faster if I wanted."
With blinding speed, she weaved the cups back and forth. It wasn't superhuman, but watching that cup was hard. I was certain I still had it, however, and made my selection - the right-most cup.
She placed her hand on mine. "Before you lift the cup, let me 'Monty Hall' it." She placed her other hand on the center cup, and pulled it off the table - it disappeared in a puff of smoke. "Now, do you still want your cup?"
I nodded. This was my choice, I was certain.
"Fine." She pulled the other cup away into another cloud of smoke, then removed her cold hand from my own. "Claim your prize."
I lifted the cup - slowly, as if I was scared. I wasn't.
Until I saw what was under the cup.
"No. NO! That's not right!"
Death chuckled. This was a different sensation washing over me - it felt as if I had no control over anything.
"Those were the terms. You find the red ball, you get ten more years of earthly freedom."
I stared intently at the red ball on the table. "No! I was certain it was a white one. Let me see the oth- you removed them!"
"Well, unless you have proof that I cheated, I'm afraid you'll have to abide by the terms of our agreement."
I began to protest, but everything went dark.
I woke up in the hospital bed - I couldn't tell if I had been asleep for days or seconds.
The red ball sat on the tray, mocking me. I picked it up to hurl it away - stiff and sore, but very much alive - and I felt a slosh in my hand. I broke the ball open, and inside was a red liquid, a paper inner layer, and a thin membrane inside that. She HAD cheated, and the proof had been right in front of me.
I hurled the remnants of the ball across the room, then did the same with the small, empty vial. The poison should have done the trick, and did - but then I was fooled.
A nurse heard my commotion and came in. She didn't move to restrain me, but she did gently press me back into the bed. "Mr. Karcher, please... I don't know if you can understand me, but if you can, please calm down. I understand that the dementia is confusing, but you will only keep any of your faculties if you calm down."
I relaxed, and she looked over at the tray.
"Who left this note?"
I looked at her and the note she held, with a more honest confusion than I'd had in weeks - at least, up until a few moments ago.
"'Don't play games with me - you might win. Cheers, D' Well, whoever it was has impeccable penmanship." She showed me the note. "There's even a little smiley face. Well, I'm not sure who came to visit you, but hopefully they'll visit again. I'll leave the note here."
Satisfied, she left. All I could do was glare at the note, and know that I had to wait at least 10 years for a return visit. | 2018-03-07T07:23:52 | 2018-03-07T06:00:47 | 453 | 305 |
[WP]"This is how it works," Death explained. "You pick the game and we play. Cheating is allowed, but if either one of us is caught by the other, they lose. If you win, you'll wake up back in the hospital and I'll give you another 10 years. If you lose then it's time for judgement. Understood? | "...Do video games count?", I ask the death man. He actually looked like a very normal guy, just wearing black clothing.
"...Sure. Just nothing single player."
"Or, we could make our own game out of a game."
"...What?"
"We both get computers. We mod Skyrim with the same mods and same load order. We continuously play through until the game crashes. Whoever ends up with a crashed game first loses. Freezing does not count, and the game must crash. No staying in the main menu or waiting in a house. You must play through normally as you can with mods."
Death looks at me. "...I have a better idea."
"Yes?"
"We play vanilla Skyrim. Whoever runs into a glitch first loses, and you must play through normally."
I grin. "You are a goddamn genius."
"My idea... It just works."
"Guaranteed to happen, because Bethesda."
And we play through the game. Unfortunately, death gets some glitchy horses in the intro.
"...Goddamnit. You win."
The horses in my game also start freaking out like, a second later.
"What a beautiful game, Bethesda." | "Look, Gary, i am not saying that i don't enjoy our games, but how long have we been playing now?"
"oh, i don't know, it's been a while" said gary, smiling from the other side of the table.
"it's been nine years now, gary. Nine. years. Gary"
gary lifted his arms above his head and stretched, cracking his shoulders and knuckles. it had been nine years since Death sent out his challenge to him. same one as everyone gets, the opportunity to challenge death to a game of their choosing. And, well, death had forgoten to check whom he was challangeing.
"well, if you had had more time to play, we could be further along by now. i mean, twice a week is good,in fact, it's better than what most can manage, but you do know that it gives me an unfair advantage, right? This game is literary all that i can do in my curent state, and twice a week gives me alot of time to pass the time."
"Look, you know i enjoy our games, but i can't cancel people dying untill you lose"
Gary chuckled at that. twice a week for 9 years, and death still thought that he could beet him at his own game?
"you ain't beaten me yet mate. come on, did you get the natchos and MD for the night? it's your turn to buy"
Death sighted
"yes, and your pizza, with extra cheese and peperoni."
"From Marcos? your the best D" gary smiled. You had to give death his due, the guy knew his fast food. piping hot, greasy flavorful and only from the best pizzabaker ever to live. In fact, Gary suspected that Death had taken the baker to the afterlife in person only so he knew where the man "lived", and could keep geting pizza from the man.
"Soo, where where we?"
"You wherejust planing your attack on the Black spine, when you pulled out another book with gear. Wich, i might ad, is bullshit. You really shouldn't be able to do that."
Gary kept grining. it had infact taken him 5 years before he realiced that he could, infact, do that. still, he had his pride. he didn't do anything TO gamebreaking. the game, after all, needed some kind of balance.
"tell you what, i will let you spent your downtime inbetween games in heaven, if you agree to change the game. i really can't stand the confusing tacos"
"THACO death, it's THACO, not taco. sure, i can deal with that." said gary. O, you poor sood. you have noo idea what you just did Gary thought.
Gary started to move away his books. Death lit up, he hadn't really thought Gary would go for it. Then, gary picked forth 5 new books. Way, way ls than the previus game. then he started to write. In a way, he was sad. Death was a decent DM, and he realy liked to play with him. But maybe he could convince Death to keep playing with him after he won
"I chose to be a Cobold, and for my class, i chose wizard... Oh, and his name, is Punpun" Gary Gygax said. It was time to end this, and win the game he had made so many years ago. And he still hadn't used his loaded d20s... | 2018-03-07T09:08:29 | 2018-03-07T08:36:30 | 39 | 10 |
[WP] You are the world's greatest detective. With your near superhuman intellect, you have never failed to solve a case before. But one day, you finally meet your match: a criminal so unbelievably stupid that you cannot possibly comprehend and predict what he's going to do next. | It was maddening. *Infuriating.* How could you possibly see that coming? Weeks of setting an elaborate trap, involving plotting every escape route down to the weak bricks in the fucking wall, men hidden in every crack, crevice and cavity you could find. It was the perfect setup. Have him come in for the great diamond, exactly 03:16 *sharp*, wait for him to take it, have wherever he came from blocked off, and have men surround him from every angle. It was the stuff detective movie dreams were made of, what children playing cops and robbers with their legos imagine they're going to foil with their scheming intellect, but *nooooo!*
This, this... ***buffoon*** walks straight through the front fucking door *at* ***fucking midnight***, slaps the glass cover away like my precious little kitten does when her favourite toy is dangled above her, grabs the diamond with his disgusting sausage fingers, and fucks off. All in the span of five fucking minutes. There are no words to describe how utterly livid I am in this moment. But it's fine. Oh, it's fine. It's fine, it's fine.
*It's not fine at all!* I can't predict this fool! He has no motivations, no reason, no rhyme! I'd prefer tracking a deranged serial killer obsessed with the number four that leaves utterly gruesome crime scenes behind, for God's sake! Last week, this halfwit was robbing a McDonald's, the week before that he was stealing glue sticks from a primary school, and now he's only gone and robbed a diamond worth a thousand times more than the McDonald's he stole from!
I slammed my diary into the desk, pen whirling away into some distant corner. I'd get it later. Standing up quickly and turning on my heel, I grit my teeth and stormed out the door, turning too fast to greet the dull, grey sky out the adjacent window with my utterly sour expression as I strode down the corridor, barely paying attention to the dull, generic surroundings. Staring down the mugshot of the ugly toupee'd mug, hatred threatening to boil over more and more every millisecond longer that I spent staring at his inattentive face. I snarled through my clenched teeth, crumpling the photo in my hands. I have single-handedly found out more serial killers than I could count, global thieves that had stolen millions in goods, terrorists living in a hole in a field, for God's sake. This *uneducated muppet* will not evade me again. | "Another beer please."
"Coming right up."
As the bartender readied the order, the patrons of the bar looked at the man who ordered.
Greg was not known for being somber. His default expression was a wide smile, and on the rare occasions where it wasn't, when he was confronted with a particularly difficult case, his smile turns into a maniacal grin.
Yet today, the normally jovial detective was frowning.
"Something bad today, Greg?" asked the bartender as she handed him the beer. Her question was met with silence. The detective took the beer and went back to brooding.
"Must be a problem with his love life," remarked one of the patrons, laughing.
"Aye, 't happens with all of us Greg," said another patron, who swung his arm around the detective. "These women don't know what us men go through at this time of the year. We be ducks migrating for the winter, looking for greener pastures, ain't that right, Greg?"
The detective gave him an annoyed look, but said nothing, only downing more of his beer.
"Excuse me for being a woman," said the bartender, hands on her hips. "Just for that I'm demanding an extra tip from you."
"Yer not a woman, yer a man in a woman's skin ye are!"
Greg suddenly removed the arm slung across his shoulder. Gulping down the last of his beer, he slammed the mug onto the counter. The bartender gave him a annoyed look, but he ignored it.
"I failed to solve a case," he said.
The silence was deafening.
"This silence is deafening," said a patron as he removed his hearing aid.
All at once the bar converged on the detective.
"What happened?!" Was the question they all asked at the same time.
Greg raised his hand to order another beer.
"That criminal was a genius, I've never met anyone that stupid before," said Greg. "And I'm an idiot for not noticing it sooner."
"Tell us, how can someone be stupid and a genius at the same time?"
"I got a call for a robbery case earlier this day. When I arrived, the scene has already been roped off and the owners were waiting for me. Apparently a highly prized Faberge egg as stolen from their property. I took the usual questions, searched for clues, asked the police what they've already found out, you know, the usual."
"Then what happened?"
"The robber left every clue imaginable at the crime scene. Hair, footprints, fingerprints, there's nothing that he didn't leave out. We managed to find a trail and it led us to an abandoned warehouse nearby, but that's where the trail went cold," continued Greg.
The rest of the bar went deathly quiet. Greg had never lost a trail before.
"There were no signs on a break-in at the warehouse, and the keys were never used. There was a window open at the fourth floor, but there was nothing that indicated the criminal has entered there. When we went inside, we found the egg smashed to pieces. There were signs that someone lived there, but no sign of the criminal. Although, we did find a very molested duck on the floor," he continued.
The bartender belatedly gave Greg his beer, which he downed in one gulp.
"What about the duck?" she asked.
"At that time I thought it must have been a poor attempt at lunch," replied Greg.
"We weren't going to solve the case that day, so we gathered up the broken eggs and returned to the owners, and that's where everything answered itself," he said, slamming the mug again onto the counter.
"You smash that mug again and I'll smash *your* face into the counter," warned the bartender.
"A man in a woman's skin ye be, lass," said the older patron.
"Quiet! Greg is talking."
"We arrived back at the owner's house when we saw them talking to the director of the local circus. They were very angry and were demanding compensation for the egg. It seemed that one of the circus monkeys had escaped and was last seen around that area."
"So that was the end of it?"
"No, the monkey wasn't the one who stole the egg."
"But who did?"
"The duck."
"What?"
"The duck stole the egg," repeated Greg.
"Why would a duck steal an egg?"
"What kind of question is that?" said a patron. "Obviously if it looks like an egg, feels like an egg, and smells like an egg, then it is an egg, only ducks don't particularly care what egg it is."
The detective confirmed the answer. "That's right."
"But why did it smash the egg, then?"
"No, the egg was smashed when the duck entered the warehouse. Whoever lived there caught it and didn't care about the egg, only the duck," said Greg, to the unbelieving ears of the patrons.
"So you know who lived at the warehouse?"
"Oh, that one's easy, it's one of us."
---
*I would greatly appreciate any tips on improving my writing, thank you for reading!* | 2018-06-04T05:08:39 | 2018-06-04T04:01:05 | 69 | 17 |
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