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[WP] In a world where pregnancies sometimes last a few extra months resulting in a child with superpowers, your wife has been pregnant for 15 years | "What the fuck."
I was kind of pissed, I had this doctor recommended to me and hired specifically because he wasn't religious. I had gotten tired of people telling me for 15 years about how my child was the second coming of God or Zeus or Hircine or whatever. It got worse when my wife ended up having twins, people began saying my little girl was the antichrist so I was fucking done with religious nutjobs. And here this supposedly "atheistic, science-based" doctor was, telling me my children were gods.
"It's only theory for now, Mr. Walker, but a pretty solid one. When your children were born, they were both Undefined, we had not discovered a mutant strain like theirs ever before. The testing we've been putting them through shows no limits to their powers as of yet. They can fly, read minds, predict things better than the most complex programs. And your daughter has been seen actually creating things."
"How do you know that?" I was almost shouting. "Maybe she's summoning it from somewhere or something!"
"The object we gave her was one of a kind. She now has several, they all look and function exactly the same. Even the wear on them is identical."
Suddenly the supervising nurse ran in. "Doctor, there's been, ah, a development. Please follow, Mr. Walker. I think this puts to rest any doubts we have."
We walked into the room they had my children in. There were a lot of doctors around my children, 'Ooh'ing at something they had.
"Daddy, look!" said my daughter, grinning as her and her brother held up transparent, tennis ball sized objects towards me.
In one of these spheres, there was a tiny little star. In the other, a perfect planet. | "Alright, thanks. I'll let you know if she can make it," I set my phone down on the nightstand, massaged my temples, and sighed, then flopped out of bed and into my slippers. Ever since we got a hardwood floor (the dust was making the pregnancy difficult, she had said), it'd been too cold to walk around barefoot.
My wife was in the kitchen, horking down her third pizza pocket this morning. Orange droplets of grease dripped from her sausage-like fingers onto our tablecloth, adding to its collection of warm-colored stains. Maybe someday we could frame it and sell it as modern art. She tilted her head in a barely perceptible nod as I sat beside her. We didn't make eye contact.
"So, honey." I put on what I believed to be a sincere smile. "That was Doctor Boyer on the phone. He said to come in for an ultrasound this evening if you can make it."
She didn't react. She did, however, reach over me and expertly wrangle a can of Dr. Pepper (the only Doctor she seemed to care about) from the six-pack on the counter. With a crack and a hiss, she downed the thing in three gulps.
I coughed and continued. "I took the day off so I could drive you."
"Didn't have to. I'm not going. The baby's due soon and I'm not feeling well." She finally said, staring at the wall with deadened eyes. Probably contemplating what to eat next.
"I just think it's best for the health of the baby." It was a daily charade by now that had gone on for fifteen years. She'd use her 'pregnancy' as an excuse to sit at home and loaf around all day. I'd use it to get out of work, out of concern for her. Both of us knew she was just fat.
She, of course, didn't respond. I patted her on the shoulder. "I'll tell him you're refusing treatment again."
I'd left to get my cell in the other room when I heard a loud crash. I ran back into the kitchen to find my whale of a wife convulsing on the floor, hyperventilating. Poor thing. All that cholesterol had finally caught up to her heart. Realizing I was still holding the phone, I dialed an ambulance.
"Please come quick. I think my wife's having a heart attack." I have to admit, it didn't sound particularly urgent. Then again, I didn't particularly care whether she lived or died.
"No, you idiot!" She screamed, thrashing her limbs. Her arms rippled like pudding while her legs slapped like ham against the linoleum. "My water just broke!"
I dropped the phone in a rare moment of genuine shock. "You mean, all this time? Fifteen years? What's happening?"
"I don't know! I wasn't pregnant but my water just broke!" She screamed as a puddle formed onto the floor. I cried as the stench wafted over me. It smelled like a dumpster and a septic tank had a kid and it was raised by a skunk. If the ambulance came in then I was pretty sure they'd put the room under quarantine.
Thinking quickly, I ran over to the sink and grabbed a fistful of paper towels, soaked them in the half-melted mint chocolate ship ice cream sitting on the table, and wrapped them into a shitty bandana. It was sticky and unpleasant, but I could breathe again.
Sirens wailed outside. I expertly navigated the piles of discarded burger wrappers and pillars of cardboard containers to fling open the door. "She's in the kitchen!" I shouted. They ran in with a gurney, took one look at her, ran back out, and came back with a much bigger, sturdier gurney. They dragged her off screaming into the ambulance.
I slumped into the couch and breathed a sigh of relief. After fifteen years of suggesting it, she had finally said it outright and lied to me. And I had used my superpowers to make it truth.
| 2017-07-08T03:36:32 | 2017-07-07T22:50:23 | 98 | 63 |
[WP] In a world where pregnancies sometimes last a few extra months resulting in a child with superpowers, your wife has been pregnant for 15 years | "What the fuck."
I was kind of pissed, I had this doctor recommended to me and hired specifically because he wasn't religious. I had gotten tired of people telling me for 15 years about how my child was the second coming of God or Zeus or Hircine or whatever. It got worse when my wife ended up having twins, people began saying my little girl was the antichrist so I was fucking done with religious nutjobs. And here this supposedly "atheistic, science-based" doctor was, telling me my children were gods.
"It's only theory for now, Mr. Walker, but a pretty solid one. When your children were born, they were both Undefined, we had not discovered a mutant strain like theirs ever before. The testing we've been putting them through shows no limits to their powers as of yet. They can fly, read minds, predict things better than the most complex programs. And your daughter has been seen actually creating things."
"How do you know that?" I was almost shouting. "Maybe she's summoning it from somewhere or something!"
"The object we gave her was one of a kind. She now has several, they all look and function exactly the same. Even the wear on them is identical."
Suddenly the supervising nurse ran in. "Doctor, there's been, ah, a development. Please follow, Mr. Walker. I think this puts to rest any doubts we have."
We walked into the room they had my children in. There were a lot of doctors around my children, 'Ooh'ing at something they had.
"Daddy, look!" said my daughter, grinning as her and her brother held up transparent, tennis ball sized objects towards me.
In one of these spheres, there was a tiny little star. In the other, a perfect planet. | Stone baby, thats what the doctor said. "The fetus has died and begun to calcify, if we don't perform a c-section and remove it she could suffer major organ failure and die aswell" I wiped the tears from my face with the end of my sleeve balled up in my hand from the stress as I heard the doctor give me the news. I TOLD her there was something wrong, I mean I know babies that take longer when they're mutants but 14 months?
"Angela we can't keep the baby, the doctor said its going to kill you." I rolled her to the door and fumbled to find the key I was so stressed. Angela reached up and took my hand and said "Its ok, I know what the doctor said but IM asking you to trust me, I cant explain it...I can feel her, somehow shes moved beyond the fetus" I swallowed hard and asked her what she meant by beyond. "I can feel her pressence like, shes with me somehow like that feeling you get when youre being watched by a friend."
**about a month later**
"Jake, Jake wakeup...mom needs you"...was I dreaming? I went back to sleep and then I heard a scream, "ANGELA!" I tripped on the bed sheet wrapped around my ankle as I scrambled out of bed grabbing tuffts of bed sheet like the fur of a beast grabbed and grappled by a terrified prey despertely escaping.I found Angela on the bathroom floor in a pool of bodily fluids, swirled and mixed like paints in a sink. "Lets get you to the hospital" I half whispered as much for me as it was for her but she wouldnt move. "Shes out already, the baby she, shes shes under the bed"..."what?" I asked in a distracted and irritated tone. "Shes not..." Angela was lucid and eerily calm about this and would not take her eyes off the bed, "Angela what are you talking about? Youre scarring me". "Look, under the bed, please"...~scurrying sound~ I suddenly felt a fear that I had never experienced before in my life, a mental lock that simply froze my mind in a suspension of reality like the deafing silence of a space if some loud sustained noise is abruptly shut off. "Jake, dont be afraid, Its me tilly, I had to take a form that you did not expect, please let me come out slowly" ...Angela took my hand and said, "Its ok", I said aloud or rather tried to say out loud to come forward, a small tripedal creature came out like a human fleshed joystick on a tripod, my heart sank through the floor and I went limp.
**a minute later**
"Jake wake up, its me Angela", I looked up and saw Angela sitting on the edge of the bed craddling the creature "Its ok Jake, come meet Tilly, shes beautiful" ....I couldnt speak, I wanted to gasp in horror but could only breathe in short rapid breathes "Im you Jake, and Angela" This voice in my mind sounded like an adult it sounded like a young woman but it didnt sound at all because I heard it in my mind. Angela whats going on? "Shes a higher being Jake, she told me in my dream just this morning that she is a conciousness not of this world and has chosen us to give her a physical form so she can fullfill her duty, shes an alien Jake, an envoy come to Earth to welcome our species to a new stage of evolution. She told me that her people are the ones responsible for some of the new mutants, that they are like her, come to guide us into a new age of enlightenment."
I approached Tilly and extended a finger to touch what looked like her face and she nuzzled into it, in that instant I felt a warmth ripple through my finger and up my hand that dissipated into my fore arm of a sort of vibration and warmth like the way your hand feels after its been on one of of the massage devices or a vibrator for to long. "Hello father, my name is Tilly and I have a new world to show you" | 2017-07-08T03:36:32 | 2017-07-08T00:29:08 | 98 | 32 |
[WP]Your method of fighting crime is rather unorthodox. You expose all of the unseen flaws of a villain right in front of their eyes. You are Adam Conover, and this is Adam Ruins Everything.
Edit: Loving these! I think some of them got to the production team, too!
Also I am not Adam, though if you can't get enough of him he did an /r/iAMA yesterday!
Edit: not an ad | "You can't escape, Adam Conover," I said smugly. "You're surrounded by crocodiles."
"Not all crocodiles kill people," said Adam Conover. "In fact, this breed looks particularly docile."
It was about then I noticed, with his hands tied behind his back, that Adam's pectoral muscles looked particularly swollen. I approached him, and, as I did, the faint smell of vegetarian cuisine and hair gel emanated from his person. My sexual appetite now at the height of his hair, I leaned in for a kiss, but was met only with a whisper:
"Sexy fan fiction is written largely by the sexually inexperienced."
(Adam dared me to write this.) | I smiled at him, my maniacal grin growing. I pointed my gun at his head.
"First, I'm going to strap you down, so tightly that you won't even be able to move. You're going to feel every second of going through that machine!" I said, laughing now.
"Unlikely." The man responded.
"*What?!*" I exclaimed. Why wasn't he scared? Everyone scared. Right up until that glorious moment when their screams finally die out...
"First off, it's highly doubtful that you would be able to put me in a position so secure I would be unable to move. I would likely retain some function of movement, even if it is just my toes." He said, sounding completely unafraid. "Unless, of course, you decide to freeze me. Which I doubt you would be able to do." He gave me a doubtful glance.
I stared at him.
"Secondly, I'm standing right here. How are you going to get me into that machine? I would put up resistance, and in order to get me there you would probably need some form of anesthesia. This isn't as easy as you think. While the statistical data for death by anesthesia is surprisingly low, around 1 in 100000, for an untrained professional, such as yourself, the rate is much much higher. It is possible if not probable I would die before I even felt an ounce of pain." He said, speaking without stopping.
"But," I managed to get in. "I can just-"
"Furthermore," He continued. "While it is possible for a human to lift double their weight, especially a trained one in a trained profession, such as firefighters, it is significantly more difficult for someone without any practice in technique or weightlifting to do so." He looked at me. "And clearly you are *very* out of practice."
I started to feel a little self conscious. This was just like high school. I started to feel confused, like I wanted to run.
"Finally." He said. "Considering that I have spent the time taking to secretly notify the police, it is certain that you will face an extremely long time in solitary confinement. Solitary confinement was invented by the Quakers, who used it as a punishment to force prisoners to spend the time reading the bible. But even they decided it was too harsh. The Supreme Court of the time said that prisoners either became violently insane, or committed suicide. Considering you are the first one already, it is probable you will take the second round. U.S Supreme Court, In Re Medley, 1890."
Blue and red flashing lights appeared outside, and a door was kicked down.
He started to walk out.
"And while for almost a century solitary confinement was stopped in the United States," He paused as a squadron of police officers burst into the room, guns trained on me. "Unfortunately for you, it was brought back."
"Enjoy your time!" He yelled back.
***
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| 2017-07-27T16:07:37 | 2017-07-27T14:40:47 | 1,673 | 757 |
[WP] At 18, everyone receive a superpower. Your childhood friend got a power-absorption, your best friends got time control, and they quickly rise into top 100 most powerful superheroes. You got a mediocre superpower, but somehow got into the top 10. Today they visit you asking how you did it.
Best friend* sorry. | "Keith you've got to be kidding me." Anne shouted at me. "You did what to Doctor Stranglethorn?"
"I simply used my power, walked into his lair, and threw bundle after bundle of flashbangs at him untill he submited." I replied bluntly.
"Keith. Your power is just the ability to chameleon yourself and anything you are holding into one SOLID colour. How could you possibly just, walk into Stranglethorns lair without him killing you instantly?" Asked Anne in a frustrated and highly irked tone.
"Well, you see I talked with a guy who said he remodeled some rich dudes mansion ago, said he got paid under the books about maybe a year ago to repaint the walls. Turns out that employer of his was Stranglethorn himself using some alias, er, Sweetwater I think he called himself." I said as I held back laughter.
"Keith, get to the god damn point." Anne said as she raised her fist at me.
"Okay okay, well get this. Stranglethorn painted his walls all in cyan, like such a hideous colour for a well known super villain. See he didn't just paint one room, he practically painted every god damn wall. Well anyway, I knew it was too good of an opportunity to pass so I snuck into his lair, and by sneak in I simply walked in, rolled around a bit, made myself look like I was cyan colored and hugged his wall while I made it to his chambe-." Is all I could say before I was cut off by Jim my best friend.
Jim took me by the scruff and slammed me into the wall. "Are you crazy Keith! You wouldn't survive if he caught you! What were you thinking?"
I quickly removed his hands from myself and stood up straight, brushing off my shoulders.
" Well Jim, I was thinking he was expecting someone with some kind of ability like super strength or telekinesis to come and fight him. Not some naked guy with bags full of flashbangs to come to his lair and pelt and blind him into submission." I spoke. "After that whole escapade, they awarded me this rank, said I did the world a favour, and here I am. 7th best hero in the world."
Jim sunk down to his feet as Anne stared angrily in disbelief at me.
In retrospect, what I did anyone could have done. I was just the first to try it out. | Trudging along in the snow, I reminisced on my time at the academy. It was a short two years filled with laughs and good times and twice as many struggles. I was humbled at the ingenuity of the human race for finally cracking the code on the MMSC gene. Now simply referred to as “The Mold”, it bridged the gap between those born with the gene, and the general populace because it wasn't an advantage exclusive to a few lucky people anymore.
“Can the exam get hurried along a bit, I'm daydreaming here.” I called out into the vast frigidness. Although I knew the examination referee was in earshot, he/she did not answer as protocol demanded.
I stopped at a particularly large redwood for a moment to take a break and leaned up against it.
A chilling howl echoed toward me from my left. I shivered, perhaps from the cold, or perhaps from the sound I had just heard. It mattered little because in my mind I knew that this threat wouldn't only be the path to survival, but it would also be the key to finding out my true superpower.
You see, finding out the true nature of your superpower through gene splicing was not like gaining it naturally. A natural Superhuman had their mutated gene lying dormant in them for years and years and had plenty of time to coax it out. However, an artificial Superhuman like myself didn't have that luxury and so the only sure fire way to discover what it is, is to be exposed to a life and death scenario and force your superpower to surface. Controlled danger, but real danger, that was the goal of the exam.
Surveying the dense canopy proved unnecessary because it wasn't long before my target made itself known. I heard it long before I saw it. Heavy, rasped breathing and uneven footfalls. 50 paces ahead, its figure appeared in the evening light and I observed its approach as I retreated to higher ground. I was afraid but focussed, and I looked upon the ugly creature with disdain. Its snout was wet with a mixture of blood and slobber and its lanky arms nearly grazed the snow as it walked.
20 paces ahead and now the doubt began to set in. What if my power doesn't reveal itself? Surely it will. It has to. These exams were created for this purpose. But what if it doesnt? I may be a mutilated corpse before the referee steps in.
The creature stopped and sniffed, it’s head movements were erratic and it began gnawing its own arm briefly before letting out a blood curdling screech. It leapt forward.
“Its now or never.” I said under my breath.
*crack.*
The creature lunged at me and I shielded my face but when I opened my eyes a massive tree lay atop the creature’s lifeless body in the snow at my feet……..
.......
“Wait…… Thats it? You felled a tree with your mind onto it? This is bullshit. That does NOT deserve a Global Rank 7.”
“Shhhhh! Of course thats not it Gigi, you saw what he did on patrol last month! That was a *Void Entity* we’re talking about not some Green Level proto-demon!” Mark whispered, trying to quiet her down. Some guests turned to us in curiosity but quickly returned to their meals.
“Fine, whatever, but that doesn't even match up with your exam. Just…. Like… Just tell me how you did it. Explain it.” She hissed.
“Guys. That's what I've been saying this whole time, I don't know! I kind of just thought about trees and then that void thing exploded into splinters of wood.” I tried to explain, but their expressions remained unchanged: Gigi fuming, and Mark looking on with wonder.
“And I even *knew* that you were going to be a World Breaker Tier but I didn't think it would be this…. I don't know..… *Stupid!* UHG! It pisses me off even more.” Gigi slammed her hand down on the table. Mark and I just laughed only adding to the annoyance of the other customers.
“Look man, can I like, y’know? I dunno how to ask without making it weird.” Mark gestured. I guess his power was as awkward for him as it was for others.
“Sure go ahead. If you can figure it out better than me then be my guest.” I replied, in too jovial a mood to care.
“Bro, oh my god thanks. This is gonna be *sweeeeeeet!* Cheers man!” He smirked and raised his mug in acknowledgement.
“Cheers. Merry Christmas guys.” I replied as our mugs clinked to Gigi’s reluctance. We downed our eggnog as the waiter came with our entrees. | 2017-12-17T22:57:16 | 2017-12-17T16:14:19 | 53 | 31 |
[WP] You’re a dad who went to the store for cigarettes and some milk. When you arrive back home your kids are older and asking where have you been for 15 years. | The sound of my feet hitting concrete, then cobblestone welcomed me, almost like an old friend saying "Keep going, you're almost home. Just a few more steps." I hoisted the milk and smokes better into my hand, struggling just the tiniest bit, the handle feeling like it was wearing a permanent crease into my hand. I pulled my keys out of my pocket, and unlocked the door, before stepping inside and setting the milk down. I chuckled softly at how much the rooms had changed. Wondering if my son had helped my wife with them. The click of the door closing brought me out of my thoughts as I saw my son, older by 15 years now, standing there. "Where have you been?!". I knew that was coming. Sighing as I walked over to the milk, looking at it before throwing it in the garbage. "I'm sorr--" "BULLSHIT, WHERE WERE YOU!?". I looked into my son's eyes and told him the truth. "Those lines at Wal-Mart are REALLY fucking long". | Today is the day, I am coming home.
They have said I shouldn't have opened my eyes and that I will move on the wheelchair for the rest of my life. But I've managed. Everyday exercising and trying to move my fingers, then legs, then stand up - thinking about my beautiful, young wife with her eyes full of love and my little kids. Susan was just a little toddler, curious about the world. Joshua was fifteen, struggling with the teen angst. But I loved them so much, I always loved them.
I went to the shop for cigarettes and milk so my little darling could eat her breakfast and start a new day, exactly fifteen years and fourteen days ago. It was just a normal day. I've lit the cigarette and started walking towards my neighbourhood area. Such a sunny day, the dogs were barking happily guarding their owners properties.
I just wanted to get home earlier. I've cut the street just next to the sidewalk, just a few more metres and I'll see my wife again. I didn't.
I woke up, tangled up in all sorts of pipes and tubes. There was a constant beeping noise, that stupid beeping noise that my life depended of. I couldn't move. I couldn't feel. Nobody was there, I felt like an abandoned man in a white room. Did I go crazy? What was happening? That headache, I couldn't think of anything. I fainted again.
After a few days I woke up to an old lady sitting by my bed. She looked like my wife's mother. I've asked where she was, what is happening. She explained I was hit by a car that awful day. So it was true, they did said that earlier but I couldn't believe it. I've sighed and looked at her again. Tired eyes with dark circles around them, signs of old age appearing in her hair. But she looked somewhat similiar.
"Sam, it's me. It's me, Kate." She said. I was in such a shock the beeping noise went faster. She looked at me with her worried eyes and held my hand. "Can we go home soon? Please, they are waiting for you."
We were waiting as well and the day has come. I couldn't get up from my wheelchair for too long, but I wanted to see what is waiting there for me. What I've left this feral day. She never had her license before, but she drove me home just like she was a professional driver for years. Was it really fifteen years? What will my children think of me? Joshua should be an adult now, and Susan, Susan too...
Kate unlocked the door. It was so quiet I could hear my heartbeat. I've heard footsteps coming from the upper floor. Suddenly I've heard quiet sobbing on my left side, just in the kitchen. It was Susan, right? It was her. She looked just like Kate when I've met her. Oh my god.
"Where were you? We've been waiting for fifteen years." She said quietly.
"I'm sorry darling. I am so sorry." I couldn't say anything more. Words were stuck up my throat, tears were just freely sliding down my cheeks. I wanted to hug her so much. Suddenly, I've heard a lighter.
"I think this is yours, dad."
Joshua handed me the pack of old Viceroy cigarettes. The same I've dropped fifteen years and fourteen days ago. I would rather get hit again than see his eyes this day. | 2018-01-07T12:08:47 | 2018-01-07T09:49:07 | 88 | 34 |
[WP] In this world, soulmates cannot hurt each other in any way or form, intentionally or unintentionally. You are an assassin hired to eliminate a powerful figure. As you close in for the kill, your bullets miss their mark and knives bounce of their skin. Things just got awkward. | He was a stage actor and assassin with a cold heart.
And HE was an American president and theater goer with a heart of gold.
But when his shot doesn't penetrate the back of HIS head they are going to learn that sic semper doesn't always tyrannis.
Can a confederate assassin learn to forgive? Can an American president learn to love again? Find out this summer in "my American assassin". | The setting sun marked the sky with a rouge tint of red, and the shadow of night began engulfing the capital of our beautiful nation. Yes, there had been problems before but they were all about to be fixed. Tonight, by my hand alone; or, so I thought.
Getting into the theater had been easy enough, despite the word going around about maximum security orders on all facilities he was attending - this, I owe to my semi-successful acting career. Thanks ma.
Of course, while waiting for the target to arrive, what man wouldn't stop and reconsider his decision? Even the most highly skilled assassin does it, and that's what sets us apart from the lunatics that always end up overdoing the job. Keeping some of the humanity, I'd been told, was the best way of escaping the guilt, and the best way to minimize the evidence of our presence. Had I known what would transpire, would I still have done it? To be honest, I'm not so sure. Earlier the cause had been so clear, beyond reason, but now... did it even matter?
And there he was. A stout figure, unlike any other in the whole country. Of course I acted inconspicuously, chatting up folks and looking altogether busy; textbook example really. Oh, I'm sure this'll go in the textbooks. For centuries and centuries to come.
I'd been entrusted with a companion who was to see to it that the job gets done and I don't screw things over, some over-entitled schmuck if you ask me. His idle posture nodded me towards the stairs - it was time. As I readied to enter the box I could've sworn I felt the uncommon rush of the heart that you sometimes feel when a part of your soul becomes affected by your actions. I'd taken that feeling for granted, assuming it was the rush of the moment taking its toll. Yet, my heart spoke even louder when I pulled the trigger onto that stupid, stupid tall hat of his! Why did I find it so charming! It hit me, as it does us all when life decides to joke on your behalf, when the bullet ricocheted in its abnormal fashion. He didn't have time to turn his head, but I know, just as well as he did at that moment, what he felt. It wasn't chock or surprise, nor was it fear. I know it because I felt it too, and saw it in the corner of his eye and the lips that drew tighter. He didn't have time to turn around, though, before my sidekick shot him straight in the back of his skull. Maybe it was for the better, maybe it was not. I did not care to find out, once I ran away and exited the Ford theater. Abby, honey - I'll probably see you soon.
_____
r/PapilioCastor | 2018-04-24T04:31:34 | 2018-04-23T23:53:55 | 102 | 12 |
[WP] Write about a famous historical event as if it was played out as a DnD session | Mary looked at the table horrified. Another 1. That’s, what, 6 of them now? She felt desperate, it was all slipping away.
“You sure I can’t add my modifier?” she pleaded.
“We’ve been over this Mary, critical failures are critical failures,” replied Jim looking at her with pity.
“All my planning... all that time...” groaned Mary quietly.
Jim wanted to move this on. There was still some hope for her, but it was slipping away. “OK, Todd, you’re up.”
Todd looked up from his laptop. Was he even paying attention? He was only invited because he was Jim’s little brother and his mom forced them. Mary was sure Todd didn’t even know the rules.
Todd held up the D12... again.
“It’s not that one, it’s the D20... STILL,” said Mary with annoyance.
Todd picked up his D20, and rolled it. Right off the table. Again.
Sighing, Mary picked it up and handed it to him. “Can we just get this over with?”
Finally, he rolled the dice. A 17. Another 17. Why did he have to have that grin!
“Did I win?” asked Todd?
“Not yet,” replied Jim, “but you’re getting close. That’s 14...”
“17” interrupted Todd.
“Right, but you have a minus 3 charisma modifier. So 14. It’s still good enough, though. Trump wins Pennsylvania.” | "Alright I have the bomb and I'm ready to use it on the motorcade" Alen started his character Mehmedbasic ready to fulfill the job the party had been recruited for.
"Same here, let's do this," Larry said, excited that it was his character Vaso's time to shine.
"Alright both of you roll a stealth check and then an attack roll against the car" Jerry the DM said as Larry and Alen's faces fell "Stealth check?" Alen asked as Jerry nodded "Yeah to sneak it on".
"But neither me or Larry spec'd for stealth"
"You didn't spec your Assassin's for stealth?" Jerry said in disbelief.
"Nah we didn't think that would be a problem..." Larry followed up with as Jerry sighed "So do you still want to make the attack?"
"No we'll hold off for now," Larry said Alen nodded in agreement.
"Well I don't have any problems, Let me try it out!" Marcy said excitedly to have finally had a chance to act "Please Marcy Cabrinovic has the worst stealth of all of us!" Larry called from the other end of the table as she growled "I'm not using stealth! I'm going to throw the bomb at the car!" she said smugly.
"You're going to throw the bomb..." Jerry repeated as Marcy nodded "Alright...I guess, roll the attack roll"
*rolls*
"Alright that's a nat one on the Accuracy check...:" Jerry said as Marcy's face fell "The bomb bounces off the car rolls under another and explodes leaving it out of comission and injuring 16 people in the crowd, What do you want to do now?" Jerry asked as Marcy glowered "Screw it I'll at least go out like a spy, I break my Cyanide pill and jump into the river" she said
Jerry nodded
*rolls*
"Another 1...the cyanide capsule breaks but it's old causing Cabrinovic to start vomiting also you didn't account for time of year it's a hot summer so the Mijacka is only 13 cm deep. You're dragged out of the river and beaten by the crowd" Jerry said and as Marcy Pouts he turns to Liz
"The car speeds off will Princip do anything?" he asked as Liz shook her head "Not now," she replied as Jerry nodded "And Trifun Mitche's character will do nothing since he's not playing today. What do you guys want to do now?" he asked looking to Larry Alen and Liz.
"I'll go looking for the Archduke's new position" Larry said "Same here" Alen and Liz followed with as Jerry looked hesitant "Alright I'll give you guys each 1 chance, but it's really unlikely you'll find him."
*rolls*
*rolls*
"Larry, Allen you guys don't find anything you," he said to his players' disappointment.
*rolls*
Jerry's eyes went wide "That's a Nat 20 Liz...Princip, on your way to find a new spot to attack him on the original route you decide to stop for food. When suddenly you hear the motorcade coming. One of the members realising they're going the wrong way calls out for someone to reverse and the driver stops close to where you are standing. You have a shot..." he said as Liz grinned but looked nervous as Jerry and Alen put a hand on her shoulder
"You can do this Liz," Larry stated Alen nodded "Yeah just trust your dice"
*rolls*
"17!" Liz shouted as Jerry check over his notes before noddign "That's enough roll for damage"
*rolls*
"Let's see...taking the Archduke's health into account. That's enough. You have successfully assainated Archduke Ferdinand." he said closing the book the table erupting in cheers.
"Would you guys like to try a hand at the full module?" Jerry asked bringing out a much larger book labeled "The Great War" | 2018-05-29T09:09:55 | 2018-05-29T06:46:10 | 150 | 74 |
[WP] Write about a famous historical event as if it was played out as a DnD session | "A runner arrives with your orders. Would you like to read them out?"
"Sure." Katie unfolded the paper that Danny, the DM, just passed her. "It says that the Ruskis are carrying the guns away, and want us to stop them."
"So we charge those guns? That sounds ... dangerous."
"There's, like five-hundred guns. What are the rules on volley firing like that?"
"I'll look them up."
"It's got to work. Danny wouldn't TPK us, would he?"
"I will if you keep metagaming."
"Fair. Okay... well, we charge the guns, cut them down as they retreat, and take them. Yeah?"
"Katie, are you sure this is a good idea? I've only just rolled this character up. Couldn't we refuse?"
"Orders are orders. It's not for us to reason why."
"No, just for us to do or die."
"HEY! That rhymes!"
"Well done, Alf. Write a poem about our heroics later."
"Who brings a bard to a battle anyway?"
"We do: sound the trumpet to face East."
"Wait," interjected the Danny, "East?"
"Yeah, that's where the guns are right? So East."
"Guys..."
"On my mark, we charge."
"Are you sure about this guys?"
"Get 'em."
There was a horrible terrible silence.
And then Danny said, "can you pass me the rules on volley firing?"
"Sure."
"Oh ... it does not look good for you guys." | "Alright I have the bomb and I'm ready to use it on the motorcade" Alen started his character Mehmedbasic ready to fulfill the job the party had been recruited for.
"Same here, let's do this," Larry said, excited that it was his character Vaso's time to shine.
"Alright both of you roll a stealth check and then an attack roll against the car" Jerry the DM said as Larry and Alen's faces fell "Stealth check?" Alen asked as Jerry nodded "Yeah to sneak it on".
"But neither me or Larry spec'd for stealth"
"You didn't spec your Assassin's for stealth?" Jerry said in disbelief.
"Nah we didn't think that would be a problem..." Larry followed up with as Jerry sighed "So do you still want to make the attack?"
"No we'll hold off for now," Larry said Alen nodded in agreement.
"Well I don't have any problems, Let me try it out!" Marcy said excitedly to have finally had a chance to act "Please Marcy Cabrinovic has the worst stealth of all of us!" Larry called from the other end of the table as she growled "I'm not using stealth! I'm going to throw the bomb at the car!" she said smugly.
"You're going to throw the bomb..." Jerry repeated as Marcy nodded "Alright...I guess, roll the attack roll"
*rolls*
"Alright that's a nat one on the Accuracy check...:" Jerry said as Marcy's face fell "The bomb bounces off the car rolls under another and explodes leaving it out of comission and injuring 16 people in the crowd, What do you want to do now?" Jerry asked as Marcy glowered "Screw it I'll at least go out like a spy, I break my Cyanide pill and jump into the river" she said
Jerry nodded
*rolls*
"Another 1...the cyanide capsule breaks but it's old causing Cabrinovic to start vomiting also you didn't account for time of year it's a hot summer so the Mijacka is only 13 cm deep. You're dragged out of the river and beaten by the crowd" Jerry said and as Marcy Pouts he turns to Liz
"The car speeds off will Princip do anything?" he asked as Liz shook her head "Not now," she replied as Jerry nodded "And Trifun Mitche's character will do nothing since he's not playing today. What do you guys want to do now?" he asked looking to Larry Alen and Liz.
"I'll go looking for the Archduke's new position" Larry said "Same here" Alen and Liz followed with as Jerry looked hesitant "Alright I'll give you guys each 1 chance, but it's really unlikely you'll find him."
*rolls*
*rolls*
"Larry, Allen you guys don't find anything you," he said to his players' disappointment.
*rolls*
Jerry's eyes went wide "That's a Nat 20 Liz...Princip, on your way to find a new spot to attack him on the original route you decide to stop for food. When suddenly you hear the motorcade coming. One of the members realising they're going the wrong way calls out for someone to reverse and the driver stops close to where you are standing. You have a shot..." he said as Liz grinned but looked nervous as Jerry and Alen put a hand on her shoulder
"You can do this Liz," Larry stated Alen nodded "Yeah just trust your dice"
*rolls*
"17!" Liz shouted as Jerry check over his notes before noddign "That's enough roll for damage"
*rolls*
"Let's see...taking the Archduke's health into account. That's enough. You have successfully assainated Archduke Ferdinand." he said closing the book the table erupting in cheers.
"Would you guys like to try a hand at the full module?" Jerry asked bringing out a much larger book labeled "The Great War" | 2018-05-29T07:34:04 | 2018-05-29T06:46:10 | 104 | 74 |
[WP] You discovered the ability to time travel. You go 30 years into the future expecting to meet your future self only to discover that you've been missing for 30 years. | He's been up for more hours than he'd like to think about and has drunk enough coffee to sink the titanic, but it worked.
At least according to the half dozen clocks he has stacked around his desk, it worked. They are all exactly three minutes ahead of the watch on his wrist.
Time travel. Most of his colleagues at the university think he's crazy, but he actually did it. He should go to sleep... shut his lab down and sleep for enough hours to get his brain to stop skipping around like a scratched disc, but he wants to try it one more time. A bigger jump.
It's the holiday weekend, he's pretty sure it's Friday by now, no one will come looking for him till at least Monday morning when John likes to drag him out for breakfast because "Thomas, you should at least start out the week eating real food."
Because peanut m&m's and coffee aren't considered a balanced meal to some people.
So one more jump, three days, and then he'll sleep for a week and eat whatever green thing John tries to shove down his throat.
He wakes up on the floor. It takes him a few heartbeats to even figure this out as it's pitch dark where he is, and quiet. Gone are the various lights of his lab and gone are the sounds of running machines. He spends longer than he'd like to admit getting to his feet and he can practically feel his brain trying to reboot as he stands there in the darkness and decides what to do next.
The best his dragging mind can come up with is to find a light source. He left his phone on his desk and the only light he has on him is an old Zippo lighter. The flick is familiar and mindless and soon he has a small pool of warm light surrounding him.
He somehow ended up in a storage room. There are crates stacked ceiling high all along the back wall and tarp covered objects all around him. Holding the lighter up, he finds the door behind him, and more importantly, the light switch.
Turning the light on doesn't really help him make any more sense of where he is or how he got there. He should have only moved in time, not space. Looking at his watch, he was unconscious for 30 minutes at the most, so if his calculations were correct, it should be early Monday morning.
There's nothing to it but to go out the door and figure what when wrong and how the hell he managed to move in space as well as time.
As soon as he opens the door, alarms start sounding loud enough to cause him to slap his hands over his ears and the accompanying flashing lights makes his stomach roll over. He's crouched in the doorway, fighting to stay conscious when he hears a shout over the alarms constant blaring.
He makes out a dark clad humanoid figure coming towards him through his watery vision before losing his battle and falling unconscious.
He wakes up, once again, flat on his back, though this time on something considerably more comfortable. There's a low hush of voices to his right, the words slowly starting to make sense.
"...has to be a prank. I mean, every one knows the story, crazy scientist goes missing...hell a few years ago they caught some students trying to preform a seance in the building! I think we're even coming up on the annivery of when the guy went missing."
"And he just faked the DNA? Or how about the thirty year old ID chip in his wrist?"
He doesn't hear the guys rebuttal because one thing gets stuck in his mind and has him jerking his eyes open. "Thirty years?!"
Might do more later :) thanks for reading
| I stumbled out of the bushes a little worse for the wear. I had twigs in my hair and dirt on my clothes. Mother must have moved the hedges. Time travel was still new to me and while I could sort of bounce around in the past with fairly decent accuracy, the future was turning out to be much more difficult. The past, after all, had maps. I couldn’t wait to meet my future self. By now, I should be some kind of celebrity, my tech stocks were soaring.
I dusted myself off as best I could and waltzed up to the front door of my parents’ house. It was in desperate need of some new paint and TLC. The top step to the porch was rotting and the deck had a decent sized termite hole in it. The shutters were hanging on by a thread and the trim could use a professional pressure washing. I knocked on the front door and an elderly woman answered.
Her skin hung in loose folds about her neck and her eyes were the milky white of cataracts left to develop for too long. She didn’t seem to have any teeth and the knuckles on her hands were the size of quarters. She reached into her pocket and took out a very old pair of dentures before fitting them neatly into her face.
“Who’s there?” she asked.
I took my baseball cap off, even though she didn’t know I was wearing one, “Good afternoon ma’am. I was wondering if perhaps you could help me?”
She tilted her head while she listened, little white tufts protruding from her ears, “No. I don’t want any Girl Scout cookies,” she said, and tried to close the door.
I put my hand gently on the door and said a little louder, “No, ma’am, no Girl Scout cookies. I am looking for Tim and Shirley Bechtel. They used to live here about thirty years ago. Would you happen to know where they might have gone?”
The old woman opened the door again, “It’s been a long time since I’ve heard those names. Would you like to come in for some tea?”
“I’d love to,” I said, following her into the house.
The bones of my childhood home were the same, but that was it. My mother’s crisp painted walls had been covered over in tacky checkered wall paper and there was the pervading scent of too many cats, which my father never would have tolerated. Pet hair stuck firmly to everything that wasn’t wood, and on that there was a distinct film of dust. I followed the woman into the kitchen and sat down at a small dining table for four. She poured me tea in a chipped cup and handed it too me with shaky hands; a little of the tea spilled onto the table, probably why it appeared sticky.
“Oh,” she said, “These old hands are killing me. Would you mind getting down the tube of Bengay for me? It’s on the top shelf over the sink. My son, put it there weeks ago, and I just can’t reach it.”
“Of course,” I answered, retrieving the tube.
She rubbed her hands with the cream and the signature Bengay smell was added to the stew of odors.
“You were going to tell me about Tim and Shirley Bechtel,” I reminded, setting down my untouched cup of tea.
“Oh, yes,” the woman said, holding up a gnarled finger. “They were good people. It’s a shame what happened to them.”
Suddenly, I was quite worried. This was not what I had bargained for. My parents were only in their early fifties when I’d made the hop, surely, they should be sweet old people, younger than the woman sitting across from me. “What happened to them?” I asked apprehensively.
“Well,” she began. “About thirty years ago, they put an ad out in the paper begging the community to help them find their missing son. He was supposed to come over and help his mother retrieve the Christmas decorations from the attic, but he never arrived. Tim and Shirley called him but he wouldn’t answer his phone. They even sent his older sister over to his apartment to check on him, but when she arrived, he wasn’t there. His car was still in the carport.”
“He never arrived?” I asked puzzled.
“Heavens no,” she answered. “After a few days, Tim contacted the police, but because their son was grown, they weren’t much help. They tried to tell the family that the son left on vacation or something. Anyway, after his job reported that he hadn’t been showing up to work, the police became concerned. He was a rising star in the local tech market.” She paused and took a sip of her tea. “A nation-wide search ensued. Local police even dragged the river and towed the corn fields, but a body was never found. Those poor people spent years looking for their son.”
I was shocked, “Where are they now?”
“Well, Shirley refused to move for the longest time, convinced the boy might come back someday, but Tim needed to find new work. He was a contractor you see, and there wasn’t much work in those days. Apparently missing-persons investigations can be quite expensive. They got divorced in 2009 and that’s when Shirley sold me this house. I’ve lived in it ever since.”
“Do you know where I could find them?”
The old woman pursed her lips, “Tim died a few years back. Untreated thyroid cancer, and last I heard, Shirley lives in a home about 20 miles from here.”
My eyes were welling up with tears. “Do you know the name of the home?”
“Sunnydale state hospital and medical living,” she said matter-of-factly. “I’ll never forget that one, poor woman.”
I sat back in my chair, stunned. Sunnydale was a psychiatric facility, “Can I use your phone?”
The woman nodded. “I don’t prescribe to none of those ridiculous cellular phones. I’m probably the only woman in the world with a corded land-line. It’s on the wall in the kitchen, help yourself.”
\[Continued in the comments below\] | 2018-06-17T06:06:14 | 2018-06-17T05:20:49 | 83 | 24 |
[WP] Human beings unlock skills as they grow up, walking, taking, etc. You are the oldest person in the history of the world, and today you unlock a skill no one ever had. | Well, the big day was finally here. Birthday 128. I hadn't seen many new skills in my later years. I wasn't surprised though.
In my earlier years, I had maxed out cooking, spending an entire year travelling the world looking for new recipes. Using exotic ingredients helped speed up the process but if you can't do the simple things, none of the rest mattered.
I had an annual cookbook for the holidays and had learned to add guest chefs to keep my skills sharp. With several TV shows, each with their own special gimmick, I had a very successful business as restauranteur and consultant.
Nothing made me happier than seeing my great grandaughter start to learn the skills I had practiced over the years. My own children and grandchildren showed mild interest but nothing like the passion for cooking like myself. I could spot a new trend or something exciting like a shark senses blood in the water. I could bring a new twist to classic recipes, adding one ingredient that made all the difference.
I had mastered grilling, cleaning, sauteeing, roasting and baking. Those skills were repetitive but essential for the overall skill of cooking. Other skills like chopping, preparing and ingredients also helped with making sure everything you needed was available. Like I said, the basics make all the difference. Being able to spot good ingredients versus great ingredients can take your recipes to the next level.
My great granddaughter made a very special cake for my birthday, which melted my heart. I had helped find my strawberries and cream frosting cake, my favorite recipe when I had first started out. As they brought out the cake, I could feel a swelling in my heart. She had outdone herself.
The strawberries were decorated with carefully topped whipped cream, each arranged to spell out Happy Birthday. The smooth mirror glaze of the frosting reflected hours of studying the techniques of the finest bakers. I could see the love she had put into the cake. She was amazing, my great granddaughter.
As I leaned forward and made my wish, the room froze as if time itself had been stopped. I had forgotten what it meant to unlock a new skill but as the golden light surrounded my hands, new knowledge presented itself before me.
"With your mastery of 11 different skills, you have been granted your wish. This is a one time skill and you are the first to be granted this skill. Take this new knowledge and use it wisely. Congratulations."
My great granddaughter stepped up beside me. "Grandma, I learned a new skill but I don't know what it means. Master and Apprentice."
I smiled as I looked at my hands, 70 years younger and felt my long black hair once again. "We both got a new skill and I used mine. Respawn. We have more time together because I have more time to teach you." | I take no pleasure in this.
The house is one out of a storybook. Lush green yard, white picket fence, and small brick house. They know I’m coming – these incidents aren’t secret. I do it in the open, because no one can do anything about it. No one can stop me.
I walk up to the door. The welcome mat has the design of a small cat on it, but…no. I have to do this. I have to. The world will be thrown in chaos if I don’t.
I knock on the door.
The scene, I guess, to someone else would be funny. Here I was, an all-powerful Goddess, knocking on a door. To me it was just sad. I’d considered many many times letting someone else do it. Just send some of my guardsmen. But no. I had to do it myself, to remind myself what the price of all this was, the price of the golden age humanity was undergoing under their Goddess. Under me.
The door opens, but it is not him; it is a little girl. She is barely up to my stomach with golden hair and sparkling blue eyes. She smiles when she sees me. That alone tells me all I need to know. That bastard. This was just cruel, but…who was I to judge.
“Yes Miss?” She asks, looking at me with that same expression of solemn, innocent joy all seven year olds wear.
I kneel down to get to her level. “What’s your name?” I ask.
Before my time kids were taught to fear strangers, to not open the door to someone they didn’t know. But under their new Goddess, no such thing exists. There is no crime, only progress. Well, almost no crime, but the ones I committed were for the good of all.
“Faith!” she proudly declared.
“Well, Faith, is your grandpa home?”
“Mmhm!” She nodded, but then frowned. “Wait, are you here for Grandpa’s birthday? His birthday isn’t until tomorrow.”
“No, Faith, I’m here just in time then. Please. Just take me to him.”
Faith frowned but grasped my finger in one hand and led me through the house. We went outside to the porch, where an old man sat in his chair, looking out at the forest behind his house. Again, I was taken aback by the sight of it. I remembered being like that, old, frail, waiting to die. And then I’d changed. I’d evolved. I’d become a Goddess.
And this man was a day away from that.
“Grandpa, there’s a woman here to see you!” Faith said, still holding on to my finger.
“I know, Faith dear. Please, I want you to see what comes next,” the man said, not even turning to look at me.
“No, Faith,” I said, trying to keep my composure. How could a man be this cruel? She was just a *child.* “Please go in, I’ll be right with you.”
Faith frowned and seemed to sense in that way all children can sense when something is wrong. “Wh-what are you going to do to grandpa?” she asked, her bottom lip quivering.
“That woman, Faith, is going to kill me,” the old man said.
I said nothing.
Faith looked at me, here eyes wide. “B…but she looks so nice, Grandpa! She wouldn’t k-kill you.”
The man laughed. “Never trust how a person looks Faith. Trust what they do.”
“Please, Faith. Inside,” I said through pressed lips.
Faith puffed up her cheeks and shook her head. “No. I’m listening to Grandpa!”
So be it.
I walked up to the man, who still hadn’t looked at me and put my hand on his shoulder, then I just…killed him. No effort. No movement. I wanted him dead, and so he was. The power of a Goddess.
I stood at the porch as Faith cried over her Grandpa’s corpse, not saying anything. I offered her a tissue but she threw it aside and jumped on it.
I waited.
Eventually she quieted down and turned to me with a quiet intensity that was unsettlingly out of place on the face of a seven-year old. Her eyes were red from crying and I could make out the trails the tears had made on her cheeks.
“Are you going to kill me now too?” she asked, her voice perfectly calm.
“Of course not,” I answered. “You will have the best education I can provide, you will lead a life of luxury, comfort, and…happiness.”
She considered my words and nodded. Then she looked me in the eyes. “I’m going to kill you one day, Miss.”
I smiled at her, a smile that was weary and oh so tired. “You can try sweetie, you can try.”
With that, a Goddess led a child out of a dead man’s house.
***
(minor edits)
If you enjoyed, check out my sub, [XcessiveWriting](https://www.reddit.com/r/XcessiveWriting/)
| 2018-06-23T12:16:19 | 2018-06-23T11:11:01 | 223 | 144 |
[WP] Human beings unlock skills as they grow up, walking, taking, etc. You are the oldest person in the history of the world, and today you unlock a skill no one ever had. | I take no pleasure in this.
The house is one out of a storybook. Lush green yard, white picket fence, and small brick house. They know I’m coming – these incidents aren’t secret. I do it in the open, because no one can do anything about it. No one can stop me.
I walk up to the door. The welcome mat has the design of a small cat on it, but…no. I have to do this. I have to. The world will be thrown in chaos if I don’t.
I knock on the door.
The scene, I guess, to someone else would be funny. Here I was, an all-powerful Goddess, knocking on a door. To me it was just sad. I’d considered many many times letting someone else do it. Just send some of my guardsmen. But no. I had to do it myself, to remind myself what the price of all this was, the price of the golden age humanity was undergoing under their Goddess. Under me.
The door opens, but it is not him; it is a little girl. She is barely up to my stomach with golden hair and sparkling blue eyes. She smiles when she sees me. That alone tells me all I need to know. That bastard. This was just cruel, but…who was I to judge.
“Yes Miss?” She asks, looking at me with that same expression of solemn, innocent joy all seven year olds wear.
I kneel down to get to her level. “What’s your name?” I ask.
Before my time kids were taught to fear strangers, to not open the door to someone they didn’t know. But under their new Goddess, no such thing exists. There is no crime, only progress. Well, almost no crime, but the ones I committed were for the good of all.
“Faith!” she proudly declared.
“Well, Faith, is your grandpa home?”
“Mmhm!” She nodded, but then frowned. “Wait, are you here for Grandpa’s birthday? His birthday isn’t until tomorrow.”
“No, Faith, I’m here just in time then. Please. Just take me to him.”
Faith frowned but grasped my finger in one hand and led me through the house. We went outside to the porch, where an old man sat in his chair, looking out at the forest behind his house. Again, I was taken aback by the sight of it. I remembered being like that, old, frail, waiting to die. And then I’d changed. I’d evolved. I’d become a Goddess.
And this man was a day away from that.
“Grandpa, there’s a woman here to see you!” Faith said, still holding on to my finger.
“I know, Faith dear. Please, I want you to see what comes next,” the man said, not even turning to look at me.
“No, Faith,” I said, trying to keep my composure. How could a man be this cruel? She was just a *child.* “Please go in, I’ll be right with you.”
Faith frowned and seemed to sense in that way all children can sense when something is wrong. “Wh-what are you going to do to grandpa?” she asked, her bottom lip quivering.
“That woman, Faith, is going to kill me,” the old man said.
I said nothing.
Faith looked at me, here eyes wide. “B…but she looks so nice, Grandpa! She wouldn’t k-kill you.”
The man laughed. “Never trust how a person looks Faith. Trust what they do.”
“Please, Faith. Inside,” I said through pressed lips.
Faith puffed up her cheeks and shook her head. “No. I’m listening to Grandpa!”
So be it.
I walked up to the man, who still hadn’t looked at me and put my hand on his shoulder, then I just…killed him. No effort. No movement. I wanted him dead, and so he was. The power of a Goddess.
I stood at the porch as Faith cried over her Grandpa’s corpse, not saying anything. I offered her a tissue but she threw it aside and jumped on it.
I waited.
Eventually she quieted down and turned to me with a quiet intensity that was unsettlingly out of place on the face of a seven-year old. Her eyes were red from crying and I could make out the trails the tears had made on her cheeks.
“Are you going to kill me now too?” she asked, her voice perfectly calm.
“Of course not,” I answered. “You will have the best education I can provide, you will lead a life of luxury, comfort, and…happiness.”
She considered my words and nodded. Then she looked me in the eyes. “I’m going to kill you one day, Miss.”
I smiled at her, a smile that was weary and oh so tired. “You can try sweetie, you can try.”
With that, a Goddess led a child out of a dead man’s house.
***
(minor edits)
If you enjoyed, check out my sub, [XcessiveWriting](https://www.reddit.com/r/XcessiveWriting/)
| I lay there, wheezing in bed, waiting for my body to wake up and face the day ahead. Every morning it was getting more difficult to haul myself from under the covers. There seemed to be more of an incentive to get up and move though since Maura passed away. Her imprint is still in the bed next to me, and every day it hurts a little more that it’s getting more familiar to not have here around.
When I finally grunted my way up, I walked to the bathroom and did my dailies ,if you know what I mean, body relieved and teeth washed I was ready to take on the task of dressing myself but thankfully that new nurse has moved in and is helping me with that. It’s not easy being as old as I am but I lead a healthy life, I was raised well and I grew into my age gracefully and without any encumbering illness or major problems, other than the rickety bones and waning muscle strength.
The nurse helped me into what I wear almost everyday now, slacks and a freshly pressed blue shirt, because they were the easiest to get into. I refuse to spend the day in my pajamas. Too many people my age have gone that way I intend to go with some dignity.
As she was pottering around the room folding my discarded bed clothes and making the bed I made about slowly moving to the kitchen, feeling my legs creak as they move. It was when I reached the door I thought I heard her mumble something akin to “same thing everyday and no thank you”. I turned around quickly, as quickly as I could manage anyway, and asked her to repeat what she had said.
“Nothing, I’m just lost in thought! Do you want me to help you to the kitchen?”
I said I was fine by myself and I swear she said the words:
“Oh course you are, give it another week and you’ll need me..”.
I was taken aback, her mouth didn’t move, she didn’t even look up at me when I heard it.
“I’m apologise if you think I’m thankless, I do appreciate all you do but I’m unfamiliar with voicing it” I calmly explained.
“What do you mean?” She asked, now looking at me with a strange look of horror in her face.
“I heard what you mumbled under your breath” I explained again.
“I didn’t say anything!” She was visibly upset now but trying to hide it.
I was feeling very tired all of a sudden and so I just sort of grunted and turned to make my way to the kitchen.
The rest of the day passed in relative silence with Karen looking at me for uncomfortably long periods of time as she moved around the house.
The next day was also quiet, I woke, completed my morning routine and went on to spend the day reading. Karen came in to give me my lunch and as she was leaving I heard her, clearer than before, saying:
“I won’t always be here to feed you”
I let it slip, maybe she was having a bad week, I wasn’t that bad of a patient was I? I was finding life alone difficult, and I’ve been faced with the problems of my age quite abruptly and I’m trying to accept I can’t do what I used to everyday, but I don’t think I had been too terrible to her.
Days, then weeks passed with me hearing these little quips and under-breath comments until I confronted her:
“If you feel hard done by please tell me and I will try to rectify what I’ve done to you or make your time with me more amicable”.
“I don’t know what you mean” she innocently said.
“Those comments about you not always being here, and how you find this job not to your liking, I can hear them you know, I’m old, but not exactly deaf”.
She continued to play coy. As the following days passed her interjections became clearer and less subtle.
It was then I realized what was happening. I had never seen her mouth move when she said these things, and I could never be sure I heard a full sentence exactly, more that I understood what intention her words carried. I realized I was finally passing the threshold, I was starting to lose it. I spent the next few days in panic at what was happening, hearing her voice say things she didn’t mean, worrying that this was how I would go, not with dignity but rambling in my bed.
This was when my friend Jack came over. Me and Jack never saw eachother anymore, and he was in a bad way, it was so hard to see my best friend start to waste away in a chair, pushed by a different nurse every time. I was surprised both of us got to where we did, enough to see my great grandchildren finish school. But I don’t see them anymore, part of me thinks they wished I was gone already. Maybe we shouldn’t be here for this long, I didn’t want to end up like Jack, it terrified me.
As he sat there struggling to get a real sentence together I heard him. I heard him clear as day say the words:
“What’s happened to my mouth, I can’t speak, I can’t speak to my friend”.
I nearly jumped out of my seat. I hadn’t heard Jack speak so clearly in years. All of a sudden his voice filled my ears in full. He saw my apparent panic and became worried. He tried reaching out and I heard him again in a voice that was far too young for a voice that old:
“I’m here, I’m here it’s okay”.
I’m that instance I knew. I wasn’t losing my mind. I wasn’t going crazy. I saw in his eyes what I heard him say. I wasn’t hearing this out of thin air i was really hearing this. I was hearing Jack reach for me, I felt his concern. I looked at him for a long time, and he looked straight back at me, his eyes burning with worry.
“I heard you” I said.
He managed to twist his face into a question.
“I heard you. What you said but didn’t say. About your mouth, I heard you say you were here”.
I saw him become confused and then upset by this, but out of this broke a smile. A smile I hadn’t seen in much too long. My friends smile.
As the months passed I began to ‘hear’ things more clearly. Karen left and a new nurse, a male one, took her place. He was happy with his job he liked it. I became frailer and needed more but he obliged and made sure I was alright, everyday. A new birthday passed, spent with my new nurse Dylan, he wants to have a career in this job and was happy to share his thoughts on it.
I am now 120 years old. I cannot move as well as I used to and I can’t do the things I used to do alone. But my mind is sharp, and as I age I can ‘hear’ more and I’m realising that I may be the only person to be able to hear what I do. My friend Jack is gone, he passed away shortly after his last visit, he was 116. I’m afraid that the stronger I get at this, the closer I am to going. But I know when I do go, I’ll get to see Maura, and I’ll hear Jacks voice again in full and that comforts me.
The End.
I’d appreciate feedback if you have any! I had a spare half hour before work and now I’ve got to run, I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! | 2018-06-23T11:11:01 | 2018-06-23T11:06:17 | 144 | 46 |
[WP] You are a nice person, but your superpower is that you instinctively know exactly what to say to someone to crush them. You're very effective in throwing supervillains off their game, but your fellow heroes always feel really uncomfortable watching you work. | "Your number is 36," I said, in a bored monotone. "Enjoy your meal."
The man in the white dress shirt and blue tie thanked me and was replaced by an elderly woman with ancient horn-rim glasses.
"Hello, young man," she said. "I would like the chicken sandwich, if you wouldn't mind."
*'Your daughter doesn't speak to you anymore,'* I thought, '*not because she moved to another country, but because she literally cannot stand being in your presence. All of those times that you put on a good face to her friends, and then berated her in private, picking over a thousand minor things, telling her she wasn't good enough. You do that because you believe that* you *are not good enough. You're right. You wanted better for your daughter, but instead you isolated yourself from the one person who would ever accept you for what you truly are.'*
"Would you like fries with that?" I asked instead.
The elderly lady was replaced by the squat 20-something.
*'Your wife* does *love you, it's why she stays with you. But she is still revolted every time...'* I cut off the line of thought. He was a nice guy, I could tell, and I didn't want to see his inner shame.
The thin 30-year old with a mustache.
*'The child isn't yours, and it wasn't just a single reckless night of passion for her.'*
The pimple-faced teenager.
*'Your father is outwardly supportive, but he is always secretly disappointed that...'* I cut that one off too. It wasn't even true, but it would break him, because he *suspected* it already.
An attractive blonde in a power suit replaced him. I wearily smiled towards her, waiting for her order.
My mind went blank. She started reeling off her order at high intensity, but I was too astonished to take any of it down. *My mind was blank*.
"You have such high standards for yourself, because your parents didn't want you, and you want to make yourself worthy of their love. But you will never be good enough." It just came out, I was too shocked. Every word was true. And yet, I knew she wouldn't break.
Of course, that drew attention. Lots of mutters of disbelief echoed from those behind her in line.
"How rude!"
"What's that guy's problem?"
"Well, I never!"
But the woman just stared at me with her hard gaze. An eyebrow arched, as if to say 'is that the best you got?'
I couldn't stop myself, I had to know.
"You will make it so far, and no further," I said. "Not out of a lack of talent or drive, but because your superiors believe that a woman could never do their job. Your efforts are, ultimately, futile."
More gasps from behind her in line, and I'm sure I saw her flinch, just a bit, at my statement. But she didn't break.
"Putdown, right?" she asked. "I remember seeing you on the news, before you retired. You retired to *this*?"
I nodded, dumbstruck, as I belatedly entered her order and gave her number 41.
She turned to go, and I called out. "How? I can break anybody. Anybody! Why can't I see what will break you?"
She paused, then slowly turned around to face me. I could see every eye on her, the entire line waiting for what she would say next.
"Maybe I just don't give a shit about what anyone thinks," she said.
I shook my head. "You'd still care about other things. Things you think about yourself that you don't dare look at too closely. Truths about yourself, and what you can achieve, and your place in the grand scheme of things. Or lies, with just enough truth in them that you'd believe it."
She nodded quietly to everything I said, her eyes drilling into mine, considering. Finally, after a long drawn-out moment of silence, she said one word.
"Fascinating."
Then she walked away. And in so doing, she *broke* me. | The pavement where Adrian just stood was no more than moon craters and plasma at this point. Overseer sharpened his gaze as he, almost effortlessly, levitated toward the remnants of the Starbucks in the corner of 5th and Jayton.
"Nice manouver, kid. But you can't protect all of them."
He was right. The psychotic bastard was right, and Arian was painfully aware. In a pure 1-on-1-situation, he could probably hold his own against Overseer's telekinesis and matter manipulation. Just do his thing. But he couldn't go all out here. There would be absolute carnage.
The lady next to him was passed out under a pile of bricks. Blood was slowly seeping out from a cut on her dust-covered temple, but she seemed to be breathing normally. Whoever has been inside the Starbucks when it collapsed was probably in a far worse state. Clenching his teeth, Adrian slowly moved backward against the part of the main wall that was still intact, all while maintaining firm eye contact with the hoovering beast suspended 12 feet in the air in the middle of the intersection. Overseer tended to speak like a cultivated warlock, but was more like an animal for destruction, targeting fear.
Look away once, and face sub-atomic destruction.
Feeling the wall behind him, Adrian could detect no less than 17 heartbeats on the other side. Had the attack so far been without casualties? What a miracle! But how-
"It was all part of the scheme, kid. They will benefit me later. But focus on the matter at hand. I asked you a simple question: if the hand that feeds you delivers a blow to your cheek, do you take it like a good boy or server the hand at the wrist?"
Adrian could feel the dryness of his mouth making him lose composure like a desert storm building.
"And what the fuck kind of question is that, Over?"
"A simple one of loyalty versus self-afficacy. And a very urgent one at that. You are well aware of the predicaments of your contract. The limits set on you by corporate lobbying. The fact that Big 3 are responsible for more deaths and quantifiable suffering than all of us "un-contracted" combined. You know this, yet you remain complacent. Why? That is my question"
Adrians tounge was now welded to the roof of his mouth. He felt the cold sweat creeping from his pores, and the sickness clogging his trachea.
"You agree. I can feel it. So why? Why remain in line, when you can fight! Reclaim the world, reclaim your fam-"
From around the corner, this little man appeared like a train stopping at it's station just on time. He wore a black suit with an almost liquid surface, red hat and nothing on his feet. He carried a dictaphone in his left chest pocket and a notebook in his right hand.
Overseer looked down on the gentleman, who couldn't be even half his size, and scoffed.
"What they won't resort to these days..."
Adrian suddenly realized he could speak again.
"What on Earth are you doing here!? This is a Code Red Zone! Please sir, stand back immediately, and let me handle this. I'm a professional. I know what to do."
The old man blinked, and then smiled. He opened his mouth, with lips as thin as razor blades:
"ImPulse, great job securing the perimeter. I will take it from here."
whereupon he turned to Overseer, who was now noticeably annoyed by the arrival of this unknown creature.
"Hey there, Floaty. How's it going up there?"
"Floaty? That's rich, you little imp. Did you come here to find out what going through a quantum loop feels like?"
The little man smiled, but Adrian noticed that the razor lips seemed to cut ever so slightly sharper at the corners.
"No. I came to read you a verse. Hear it, Radovan Turner."
And then it began. Like out of nowhere. As if a rainbow had shattered and all of the fragments where pushed in reverse through your iris to painstakingly be conjoined again; a marriage never meant to last forced to parade once more in a ghostly apparition before jarred spectators. It was the death of timelines and the kidnapping of entropy.
It was, simply, binary.
"100111010001101100101111000010110010111001011000101011100100111111100100100100001100000011011101101010..."
The manically precise chanting seemed to be approaching light speed. It only took Radovan "Overseer" Turner the fraction of a second of confusion the spell allowed on his face to realize what was happening. Suddenly, his whole life was dissappearing into a black hole in the back of his mind: the Boom-box Brotherhood, the ragú nights when papa was home on a temporary leave, the flash cards that got him into Uni, Eleonore Carruthers, the house in Maine, the car loan, the first miscarriage, the war, the funeral, the layover, the hard work, the first day of sun after the depression, stealing waxed apples on the market to survive, the day he broke his promise to mama and used his powers for survival, the day he used them for sport, the day he figured something out, the day he... the day- what was it... today... HELP! d-r-o-w-n-i-n-g i-n-s-i-d-e... w h a t w a s I.... W H O
The code had reversed his entropy. He was now just a husk of flesh, forever out of sync with it's time, doomed to slowly decompose as his final moments of utter dementia played on repeat in the empty halls of his mind.
The old man stopped the dictaphone, logged something in his notebook and turned to Adrian.
"Alright, now that's taken care of. Well done, ImPulse! I will see to it that you are promoted. A dispatch squad will deal with the area. Lets get you cleaned up and fed!"
As Adrian walked through the intersection, he looked up at Overseer's body, now dangling lifelessly mid-air. Suddenly, something hit his cheek. He instinctively touched it with his finger and looked at the tip.
A small droplet of rainbow-hued water suspended itself on the edge of his nail.
Adrian let his eyes wander into it, and as he burrowed his gaze further, he could hear The Man reporting to someone in the background:
"No, that's not gonna be a problem. They have met before, and Pulse has never risen. He's a good boy.
He'll fall in line." | 2020-02-25T15:21:58 | 2020-02-25T14:34:20 | 78 | 53 |
[WP] One day you wake up with 30 dollars and a note that says “For Rent”. The thing is you aren’t renting out the place. The next day you see a spider and right before you kill it you hear it say, “Please i paid my rent don’t kill me”. | "OY HANG ON MATE I FUCKIN PAID MY RENT!" A tiny deep voice suddenly echoes through my room as I was about to grab a bug zapper.
"Who goes there?" I asked scanning my room.
"Down here ya oversized cunt, do you have a memory of a bloody goldfish or something?" The voice appeared again.
I slowly looked down and only saw the spider on the floor staring back at me, "the spider?" I asked.
"Of course the spider ya blind cunt, why the fuck did you try to kill me?" The spider staring straight at me.
"Uh well... I'm not too fond of bugs and...."
"A BUG?!" the spider cut me off, "Im a bloody Arachnid you cunt! I even paid you to stay here!"
"Wait.... You gave me the 30 bucks this morning?"
"Yes I fucking did! Did you not see the fuckin note?"
I just stared in disbelief, "Uh well I did but I thought that it was from a.... person"
The spider seemingly offended whips a web to the ceiling and hops on to my desk, "A person? Ya think a spider can't have a job eh? I work fuckin 9 to 5 and that's more than your lazy ass will ever pull off"
"Okay fine you got a job, but why the Australian accent?"
"Why the wot?" The spider asked.
"You.... You know what never mind, do all spiders can speak like you?"
"The other? Nah most of them just fuckin scatter round and nibble on ants the moment they got out of their shells, but me? I hanged around Harvard and followed lectures, got my education there mate"
"Harvard? You're telling me, you have education from Harvard?"
"Yep"
"What did you study?"
"Just programming and Web design, got me a pretty well payin job"
"You.... You are a programmer? How do you even...."
The spider whips out a seemingly small laptop "from here mate! Made it myself!"
I sat down on my bed trying to process what's going on, "okay... One last question... Whats your salary?"
"Me? I make roughly $5000 a week mate"
Yep, a spider somehow have a better education and a better job than me and **somehow** built itself a computer, I took a deep breath and collected myself, "okay fine, you can stay here but im going to raise the rent a bit and lay some rules".
"Eh fair enough, actually hold on, before ye start laying down yer rules, I got a quick question"
"Okay shoot"
The spider whips out a tiny phone and asked, "Whats yer wifi password?".
I think my life is going to get weirder from now on. | The note unnerved Phillip; the man staring at his kitchen counter, wondering where the immaculately written letter came from. He didn’t have a roommate, nor did he have anyone else currently living with him. Had his drunken self-written this letter previously, and he had just forgotten about it? Or did someone break into his home just to unnerve him? The thoughts rattled in his mind before he took a glance around, pocketing the money. It wasn’t like he was going to turn down a free thirty dollars, even if that money may have been his own.
Phillip spent the rest of that day searching the house for any signs of a roommate. Starting with his basement before checking the wardrobes and even under his bed. He had to be certain he wasn’t in the presence of an oddly polite serial killer. With his inspection finally done, he retired for the night, struggling to get to sleep, feeling a constant need to look back into the darkness, making sure no one was watching him.
The next morning, he was far calmer, the shock over the note fading, considering it a drunken prank on his behalf. With the mystery solved, he rewarded himself with some cereal, grabbing a bowl, only to notice a small spider in the room's corner, watching him from its web. Reaching for a magazine, he rolled it up, ready to swat the arthropod, only for it to speak.
“Please, I paid my rent. Don’t kill me.” The words seemed to come from the small creature, causing Phillip to lower his magazine.
“Wait, you paid the rent? How did you even pay the rent? Wait more importantly, why can I understand you?” Phillip was uncertain what aspect confused him more. The talking spider or the fact that it had money.
“Oh, I’m a rather talented blackjack player. That’s besides the point though, I don’t need to disclose my web of income to you. Get it web, cause I’m a spider. As for why you can understand me, why don’t you search for the answer on the web. Damn it, I overused the web puns, didn’t I?” The spider stomped its little feet, wishing it had saved its jokes for a better audience.
“One was far too many for that pun. This is insane. Have I lost my mind? I’m talking to a spider.” Phillip could feel himself hyperventilating, chest puffing at an alarming pace.
“Easy now. I’m a ghost that’s possessing a spider. I may have tried to possess you and missed. Water under the bridge, ok? No need to hold any grudges over who may have tried to possess who. Deep breaths Phillip, come on, don’t start screaming or anything. Move away from the window. You don’t want the neighbors seeing you freaking out like this.” The spider raised its small front legs trying to ease Phillip, hoping to calm him down.
“This is insane, I have lost it. You even know my name; how do you know my name?” Despite the bizarreness of the conversation, Phillip moved away from the window, dropping onto the floor, rocking slightly in a seated position.
“Ok, I’ll tell you this while we are still becoming friends. I may have taken some money from your wallet to pay for my blackjack session. But hey, I paid you back, right? When I went through your wallet, I saw your license and thought it might be a good chance to get to know you.” The spider explained, leaving out the detail about how it took a fifty from his wallet and only returned with thirty.
“You spidery fiend! That’s it, I’m going to swat you for my sanity.” He picked up the magazine once more, aiming it at the spider only for its legs to frantically wiggle.
“Wait! Wait! I was a likeable guy when I was alive. Money? Women? Power? I can help you achieve that. I’ll be your spider wingman. Want to woo a lovely lady? I’m your spider. Want to apply to be a manager? I’ll make you a CEO. I need this. The outside world is scary. You know, there’s a bird that keeps tapping its beak against the window every morning. Its mocking me like the cruel hands of fate. If I go outside alone, it’s going to kill me. Please, I’m begging you. If I don’t prove my usefulness in a week, you can kill me.” The spider’s pleading caused Phillip to stop before he finally dropped the magazine.
“Fine, you have a week.” Phillip said as he grabbed the cereal from the cupboard, not wanting to leave his bowl empty for too long in case that started talking to. Pouring his cereal and milk, he sat down to eat.
“Mind if I borrow twenty for blackjack?” The spider asked, causing Phillip to sigh. Would the spider really be able to convince him of their worth?
 
 
 
(If you enjoyed this feel free to check out my subreddit /r/Sadnesslaughs where I'll be posting more of my writing.) | 2021-02-18T19:18:41 | 2021-02-18T18:18:30 | 275 | 133 |
[WP] It turns out that Earth is a sort of "nursery" for humans. Once we die, we are reborn in different worlds with the knowledge we had on Earth and with extra abilities that reflect what sort of life we led. | "You can fly now, Rob." Said St. Peter. "You've always tried to reach for the sky even though the challenges we threw at you dragged you down. You'll be sent to the floating world."
Rob, having just arrived at the pearly gates, stared at the angel citing his fate. "So I don't get into heaven?"
"You've died of a cocaine overdose. You need to learn to control your ego and grow up. Now stand still while I put you in a new body."
Zap!
And so Rob was born to loving flying parents in a little floating town.
Rob wasn't great at aerosports during his time in flyschool. He rather enjoyed the more subtle art of figure flying. So after flyschool he often attended classes and excelled in his art.
During his development, blurry images of memories unlived returned to Rob and came into focus as he grew up. He remembered his past self striving to climb the business hierarchy and how it crushed his soul. With his current lot he made the decision to shine.
When school was over he dedicated himself to figure flying and along with his team played shows all across Airopa. After shows he partied with all the customary skysex, skydrugs, and sky–rock and roll.
He chased fame and money but he flew too close to the sun, and suffered an overdose of skycocaine. They rushed him to a skyhospital but his skyheart couldn't skybeat anymore.
So he skydied.
St. Peter received him at the same spot where he had spawned last.
"Your ego became to huge again, Rob." The angel didn't look up from his book. "I gave you wings to reach the skies yet you died like you did on Earth. Isn't that skyronic?" St. Peter giggled before snapping his fingers to send Rob to his new world.
"Wait what power will I get this ti–" Zap!
​
=========================================
Author's note: skysex, skydrugs, and sky–rock and roll | Walking along the paved street, kicking pebbles, a man with no plans leisure’s; sure, entering an entirely new realm was the stuff of fantasies. He hoped one day his geeky brother could have the time of his life, but he supposed not.
Humans, out of them all, were few and far between. Him, being here, watching the pinks paint the sky along with darker hues, was a waste. Almost.
Humans crawled in comparison to their creators; humans couldn’t sprint or run or jog or walk. Humans were toddlers. They couldn’t fight the overarching beings, sending them into the meat of their programing. Watching certain people move, morph, overcome. And then reset, rinse, repeat.
Which brought on the question, why was he picked? Out of all the humans, a few thousand amongst the bots, why was he taken out?
He found it confusing.
He chuckled.
His laughter diffused in the fluid air. The world itself picking out sound like an echo chamber, till it fizzled out. For a whole minute, the softest faints of laughter was heard popping in and out of existence. An experience he could only find in this world.
If his world was html, this one was c++.
There was a story from when he was nine, he heard it chime so sweetly in his ears, a faded memory: *’why do we die?’ ‘God picks the best roses first.’*
It was a nice lie; no, no; don’t be fooled by propaganda. He was taken out of the programing because he was a *weed*. And not the budding type he’d find in college kids dormitories.
Even then, he was close with his creator; despite his limitations in life, leading him to the brink of death multiple times, born with a sickly cough, shaky hands, poor eyesight, and a heart defect, not to mention a lack of sociability, he accepted his life would be short and barebones.
Still, he grew up; he found, out of all his friends, family, he enjoyed the most of it, despite the generics of it all. Worrying constantly over their fears of dying, of not getting that job, of not getting that promotion, what ifs of being a boss, a parent-
He found sitting down, ‘hey it’s okay to be slow’, breath, that mentality helped him. It was okay, because there was no rush, not in such infancy.
People climbed, struggled, but they struggled and climbed wrong. The mountains they jumped over, were the wrong ones entirely. The overarching people watching knew that; and to those that fought, fought on those useless mountains, they, they were entertaining.
Those few real people; was he one of them? One of the real people? He was here, after all, but when nobody’s watching are you even alive? Does your breath count for anything.
*It’s okay.
Breath.*
He sat against a tree, willowed and warped, and turquoise. Leaves were metallic, and birds were mixed with snakes. Nothing felt real. He didn’t feel real.
Someone, something, must have taken great interest in him; the programmers, there must have been many, had left him alone; little interferences here and there. Sometimes that one kept him alive, each time his heart should have collapsed, each time the cars nearly crashed into him, the times on duty when things should have gone south, a bad trip on acid nearly sending him straight to hell.
A guardian angel, that is what he thought must have kept him alive, interfering at key points; keeping him, what exactly? Alive, for his constant boringness. If anything, they should have been watching one of the real people. He hoped he was a real person.
Now, on their plane of existence, it should have clicked; knowing the numbers and statistics, settling into the pink and dark green sky, here watching the earth continue to spin.
“Did you know, we weren’t the only ones?” He asked himself, jealous like a lover would to their cheating other. “Yes. They watched others, too.”
Now, he was a viewer. He could see but not touch his old life, spinning as a sphere in the sky.
But he chose not to. Viewing was useless.
He looked up, “Please, take your time.”
Planting his feet in the ground, walking down the street. With him, he carried seeds of hope, for all the other weeds who were plucked too soon. | 2021-07-25T02:30:39 | 2021-07-25T02:30:32 | 36 | 12 |
[WP] When humans achieve interstellar space flight we discover that we live smack dab in the midst of several massive squabbling ancient alien empires. So we do the only sensible thing we could, and become space Switzerland. | Lenore Hunnicutt was eighty-eight but very vigorous. She would need to be, as she'd run the tea room since her dear Alfie died nine years earlier. That was seven years before first contact, of course, but since then, the place had really taken off.
She stepped from behind the counter, drying her hands on her apron. Her niece, Lord love her, had made it. It had applique roses on it (Such a clever girl, Susan. Always had been. A shame it turned out her son sold her oven for drug money--he'd always been a little bastard), and she tucked a hard candy into the pocket as she stepped around, greeting the party of tentacled, oozing Nilbonians who'd come in, politely wiping their pseudopods on the mat.
"Welcome to the The Gilded Lily. Chair, sling, suspendo-seat or nothing?"
Across the room, the three Pplysks froze. One of them rose and roared a challenge, fanged mouth opening wide. The Nilbonians screeched back, flailing their tenacles. Well, thought Lenore, it's been that kind of day.
She reached under the counter and pulled out the plasma blaster, cocked it. "WE DO NOT--" Pew pew! 'TOLERATE DISORDER AT THE GILDED LILY!" She fired another warning shot, just in case, and replaced the blaster back into the sling.
Both parties froze. The Nilbonians drooped, tenacles waggling a sorry as the Pplysks squeaked and sat down again, drinking tea as if they hadn't been prepared to brawl not a minute earlier .
"Do you have grapefruit Earl Grey?"
"We do! Come sit down. Slings are fine?"
Slings were fine. She went back around the counter, humming softly. They weren't bad sorts, the Pplysks, and neither were the Nilbonians. Just excitable. She poured hot water into a china pot and carried it over, wafting the scent of burnt plasma and a ghostly trace of lavender cologne water. | "Jones! What the hell is this place even? Looks like a wagon wheel from ancient times or something. What's with the spokes?"
"Smith, it's uh . . . nice to see you too. Did you not watch the briefing? This was all explained in the vid. . ."
"I stand around and make sure nothing crazy goes down. I know about all the species, I'm ready to throw down always. What more is there?"
"They really send the best over to the DiploCorps these days, don't they? I should've figured your name would get the draw sooner or later."
"They've tried to put me out to pasture before, Jones, I know the routine. Too bad for them it never sticks. I've made it all the way out to the PEZ ("Plutonian Exclusion Zone"). Where are they gonna send me after this?"
"Don't ask questions that you don't already know the answer to. The universe is bigger than us, Smith."
"You diplos and your talk of endless stars. We put up the no-go zone and stay out of all of that for whatever reason you lot won't tell us exactly. I'm not judgin. The trade's not bad. Even I can get all the Bluuz I want, and on little more than the Dole. Business is good, eh?"
"We're diplomats. You'll have time to tour Customs, that's where the Trade Guilds and their warehouse outlets are. It's customary for station staff to visit, there will surely be a shuttle you can catch, but that isn't why you or any of us are here, is it, Smith?"
"They give you one of those fancy titles yet?"
"Assistant Ambassador, Third Class."
"Out of how many classes again?"
"Enough above me that I have the pleasure of welcoming you and yours while more important diplomatic business is being conducted without me, but well above you. Oh, you made corporal again. How nice."
"Eh, fuck off. You know I'm not the best trooper or else I'd have one of the plush jobs in the fancy new cruisers with the mech suits. You seen the Mark Vs? Beautiful things. Though this line will always have its purposes."
"You should have watched the vidlog this time, Smith, it was important."
"Whaddya mean?"
"Diplosec is likely your last assignment. Your lot don't last too long around here. Did you notice we didn't send anyone out when you came in?"
"The hell do you mean? We aren't at war. No one dies in war. We don't fight. We just threaten and everyone stays out of our little corner of the universe. We're permanently neutral. I like history, I've read about that before. That's how it works right? We got the superweapon, so we're good, otherwise we stay out of it."
"It's slightly more complicated than that."
"Stop messing with me and give it to me straight."
"The aliens don't understand the meaning of neutrality or pacifism or isolation."
"That's not straight."
"We have to constantly accept their diplomatic overtures or else they will view us with hostility and attack us directly. If they think we have declined them, they will attack us. If we accept, their millennia-old rivals will attack us. We're the only place in the universe these species exist where they are unarmed and that's only because of a fluke in Interstellar law that you wouldn't begin to understand. We have to keep this charade up non-stop. It's a diplo's dream, or nightmare."
"It doesn't sound all that bad."
"Have you seen a Tlaxlan and an Atropodian go literally head-to-head? The cynics call us the Interstellar Boxing Ring. They aren't far off sometimes."
"Shit. You assholes expect us to stop something like that with these shitty little cattle prods?"
"It took ten years for us to negotiate to get you those, another fifty for the armor. Our first muscle did it with their bare hands, since you care about history. Where the spokes don't keep them apart, you do. Perfect for a scrapper like you. I'm interested in seeing how long you last."
/r/courageisnowhere
Edits: Minor edits to clarify a few things. And I did change the ending slightly too. | 2022-03-06T21:28:05 | 2022-03-06T18:32:30 | 291 | 217 |
[WP] Your party accidentally enrages a God, but certain doom is oddly liberating. Cursed weapons, monkey paws, contracts with demons; nothing is off the table. You have no chance of winning, but your deaths shall be GLORIOUS! | We never actually expected it. We just wanted to go out with a bang. Yet we did it.
We killed a god.
Still it was a hollow victory. The numeber of being, blessed or cursed does not matter, we sold our souls to was too big to even keep count.
So we killed them too. Turns out when you kill a being lending you something, you not only keep it, but you also take the rest for yourself.
When others realized what was happening, it was far too late. Even united they fell.
Because what are godslayers, if not gods themself. | Since the Great War of Gods to End All Gods started, our
faction party’s ideals have changed a bit. It quickly became clear that we would
have no way of beating of beating this unbeatable foe. I mean, what are bunch
of humans gonna do to someone that can literally suck your soul out and throw
it away into someone dark corner of the universe just by thinking about it?
So instead of fighting, we’ve focused on dying. But not just
any dying, dying in the most ludicrous, memorable ways possible. With weapons cursed by the old ones that shake the very core of the planet. Being granted
incredible powers by demons from the darkest circles of hell that can only be
paid by untold horrors. And for one member, just looking at the angry God and
telling them to “suck it” before having their essence evaporated of existence.
For these past few months everyone has been thinking about their
blaze of glory going out. I’ve stayed around longer than most, because my “glory”
involved something a little different.
But finally, my time had come. The angry god has cornered me,
and with their devilish smirk began to raise their right hand to smite me.
“Do you have any last pleas before your end?” they roared in
their mighty voice.
“Can’t say I do, friend.” I sighed, raising my arms up.
The angry God seemed to be taken aback by my calmness, hesitating
for a moment. “And... what? No weapons of doom? No monkey paws with untold power?
The members of your clan always have something. What is yours?
“None.” I said with a chuckle. “I’ve already done mine. I’d
actually appreciate it if you hurry, because any second they’ll-“
Suddenly, portals from every corner of the universe surrounded
us, and all kinds appeared from them: Goddesses, Titans, eldritch beings. And
they all looked furious at me.
“You bastard!” One of the Goddesses spoke up first. “You cheated
on all of us! Do you not know the bondage of flesh?!”
The angry God looked confused, before widening his eyes and
turning to me.
“You didn’t.” the angry God almost pleaded with me.
“I did.”
“How many of us carry your offspring?” one of the
eldritch abominations shouted through clicks of their tongues. "Were our nights of passion nothing to you?"
For the time in its thousand-year reign, the angry God looked
completely complexed. “H-how did you even-“
Before he could even finish the thought, another portal open
to reveal a army of Gods, all with pregnant stomachs.
“Ah, yeah, he got you guys too?” Zues asked.
From pure shock, the angry God collapsed on the floor, only
mustering a single word before he fell:
“Bruh.”
---
Check our r/HectorHoltz for some insane bullshit like this. | 2022-06-02T10:20:57 | 2022-06-02T09:18:31 | 48 | 30 |
[WP] Years ago, an old Villain saved the life of a Young Hero and decided to adopt him before retiring. Now some rookie Villains have decided the best way to get to the Hero is through his dad. What a terrible mistake. | The word is spinning, after effects of overly strong tranquillisers flood my brain, my thoughts swim through treacle. I can feel rope against my skin in several places, tied tightly and securely. I am not however gagged nor blindfolded, this is no home invasion, these people want something from me. Do they know who I was? Is this about something I did back then or is it more modern? Could they be after-
"You're a very hard man to find Professor Anderson." A voice, distorted by digital noise, sounds behind me. "You teach your classes at mid city campus, do some light charity work in the knives then disappear off the face of the earth."
"What do you want?" I ask as a man walks into view, his form shrouded by a leather trench coat, but from the way he moves, he's muscled, scarily so. His face is obscured by a leering demon mask, judging by how totally it hides his face and eyes, he's some kind of demon blood, maybe a vampire spawn, the fading sunlight may be damaging to him.
"I'll ask the questions, thanks." He laughs and kicks my squarely in the ribs causing a resounding crack to echo as a wave of pain shoots through me. "So, who would have thought we couldn't find you outside of the knives because you live there? The esteemed father of notorious monster hunter Gabriel Anderson lives down here in beast territory. Tenure not paid enough?"
"Well kid, rules are rules unfortunately." I say with a smile, letting my teeth grow out to prove a point. "Demi humans don't get to live up in the towers."
"You a beast blood then?"
"Demon."
"Bullshit. You wouldn't be allowed to leave the knives let alone teach in the mid city with so much as a whiff of that in your veins."
"Call it a perk of having friends in high places. Now-" I snap the restraints and rise to standing, face to face with the masked hooligan "- while my son may abstain from lethal force, I unfortunately care little for such notions of morality."
Sorry if it's messy, haven't written in a while but hopefully it's not too bad. | There were only two choices once you'd been infected. Become a lapdog or fight back.
I should know. I saw the earliest try to fight back, when we first escaped, drunk on their power, and fall to their peers. A lot of us tried to hide. None of us succeeded. So we villains began to stay in packs. We were no less powerful, no less pre-cognizant. But we had some sort of emission, and though it took more bullets, given our ability to duck, weave, and take a few to the head, we weren't bullet proof. If we had been once, they just made faster bullets. Our only chance was to establish our own bases, become a force too costly to kill.
But the choices changed. I worked hard to make sure they changed, but I guess sometimes things slip away from you.
My boy was a hero. Only survivor from his cohort. Smart, insanely powerful, and loyal, so goddamned loyal. I suspect these were the things they had been experimenting with when we raided. Maybe why they started killing them when we breached the walls. We got what we came for. Turns out that we couldn't hide our emissions, but we could fool their sensors. I handed that data off myself. My new handlers told me that the villains got the next generation of gene editor. Less pre-cognizance, more raw strength. Less unstoppable crazies trying to live through moments they'd already seen before.
Maybe that was a good idea. I felt pretty crazy when I saw myself stay behind. I think it was his eyes. I felt like he was the first one to ever see me. Not as an experimental opportunity, nor a white-eyed monster, but just as me. I saw the future, he saw me.
I told my partner what he already knew, and he didn't bother asking me if I was sure, because pre-cogs knew that we already knew the choices we would make. We weren't always right, but we were always sure.
I saved my partner's life that night too. Trying to broker peace, lying through my teeth about how far forward I could see. I saw peace, but only if that soldier didn't fire the bullet. After that, I set to work fulfilling my own prophecy, with my boy at my side. All I wanted was to keep my friends alive, and to deserve my boy's love.
It lasted years, but of course it couldn't last forever. My handlers got me out of the way so they could conduct a raid, had waited and planned long enough that even when the pre-cogs saw it coming, it was too late. Only the next generation survived. And it killed me inside that my boy had gone out and destroyed what I had tried to protect. He hunted down those who had the bad luck to be infected and non-compliant.
I found out before my handlers had expected me to, and I left. My strength had been suppressed but my eyes worked as well as ever. I think that's part of why they didn't see it coming. I was the last pre-cog, after all. And I ran, from my government, who had made me and broken me.
I slipped my cage, a weaker one than they kept the unsedated in. I hesitated a while in front of my boy's cage. He was loyal, loved me no matter what, but I didn't let him out or take him with me. I walked away as he stared at me with pleading eyes, not understanding why I was leaving him behind. I know he had thought he was doing something good. Just fighting bad people and winning, like we were made to.
After I made it out, I saw them coming, these new kids with my name on their lips and revenge on their minds. I saw it all play out. Of course they were stronger, would take more to take down. They thought I had betrayed them, which left me with a choice that wasn't right, but was sure. Years of sedation had made everything dormant but my eyes. What the new kids didn't realize is that lapdogs sometimes got to use the master's toys. Three shots in three places where I knew they would be, and the infection writhed in them, slowed. I could leave them for the masters to pick up.
I had my own crisis to deal with. Because of course, my boy found me again, my boy who had helped kill my friends and he ran to me, with his eyes that saw me, his wagging tail, paws on my shoulders, kissing the tears off my cheeks. | 2022-09-02T13:08:03 | 2022-09-02T12:41:26 | 36 | 21 |
[WP] You're a 'comically incompetent' supervillain for a group of C-List heroes. They are no real threat to you, so you endure their childish speeches. However, when the heroes raid the civilian business you run on the side and injure your employees, you decide to take yourself seriously for once. | HONK HONK
“I heard there was a birthday here. A birthday where? A birthday here! I heard there was a birthday here and I’m Bobo the Clown!”
The man at the front door looked confused and angry, his muscles bulged out of his stupid little tank top and his eyes darted around furiously, scanning the space behind the clown.
“What the fuck is this, do I look like I’m having a birthday party? Who sent you?”
“I’m a special kind of clown for a special kind of boy. Here to say ‘Happy Birthday Billy’ just for you.” The clown reached out to boop him on the nose but the man grabbed his arm and twisted it hard behind his back. The clown gave a hearty chuckle and the man hesitated.
“That’s not very nice, Billy.” The Clown’s arm broke off in his grip and the clown spun around to hold the man in a bear hug.
“Birthday hugs are the best hugs!”
“Who the fuck are you, what do you want?” The man dropped the fake arm.
“I want to say hello to Mr. Dangerous.” The man’s composure slipped. It only lasted a second, but it confirmed everything. The clown’s voice changed suddenly, dropping several registers.
“Oh Mr. Dangerous. You’re my hero.” His lapel flower sprayed into the man’s face and he began to scream. The clown let go and watched him collapse to the ground, the skin of his face melting into a puddle.
“That’s for LaSondra. She didn’t make it out of your cute little fire.” The clown said, circling the man as he slowly melted.
“I did a little money laundering, sure. You burned my wig shop to the ground. You killed my employees. You ruined my life. You call yourself a hero?” His oversized shoe landed hard on the man’s back. A rib cracked like splintering wood.
“I’d better be careful, Mr. Dangerous. I’m acting more like a hero by the minute, wouldn’t you say?”
The man’s left arm was liquifying into a reddish brown mucous. The man was pressing a button on his shirt furiously with his one good hand, though it too was beginning to melt.
“Don’t bother.” The clown said, “the ‘super squad’ won’t be coming. But I’ll pour you into the container I’m keeping them in if you want. Well. Whatever bits of you I can scoop up.”
The man’s screaming stopped. The clown gave another chuckle and skippped his way into the kitchen.
“I heard we have a birthday here! A birthday where? A birthday here! I heard we have a birthday here and I’m Bobo the Clown!” He sang as he scooped what was left of Mr. Dangerous into a Tupperware container. | \[ParaSEC Target File, Threat Level: Low\]
* C-Class audiokinesis \[Looping and pitch. No evidence of volume control\]
* D-Class speedster abilities. \[Slightly faster run speed. Potential sensory acuity - further evidence required\]
* Target demonstrates propensity to use powers exclusively for show. All 'villainous' activity mundane in nature, possibly a publicity stunt. \[Officially denied by all contacted PR agencies. IntOps priority low - pursue only if convenient during other activities\]
\[End File\]
You know the problem with most villains?
Okay, trick question. There's no *one* problem with them, usually it's the egomania, or psychopathy, or the tunnel-vision. I used to say that they lacked flair, but some of them have a decent sense of drama with those capes. The real problem? They lack *fun.*
Not Jester's knife-wielding jack-in-the-box fun, but something that makes life genuinely enjoyable in itself. Sadism doesn't count. That's why I'm different, I'm not here to crush the world in my iron grasp, or to torture the world. I'm a villain for kicks.
Welcome to the world of DJ Dastardly.
Do you *know* how hard it is to give yourself a silly name as a villain? I had to fight *months* of media calling me things like 'Remix'. It's hard to scaremonger around someone with a silly name, they conveniently left out footage of my preferred moniker spraypainted everywhere for MONTHS. It was only once some kids posted it on social media that they were forced to give in. After that, I was Page 17 material at best.
I'm a heist-villain. Low level stuff- museums, science fairs, that one time I nabbed the mayor's statue at town hall. High visibility, low impact. That's my game, and my 'nemeses'... Well, let's just say the same goes for them too.
I've got a lot of respect for Eclipse Squad's PR team. It takes a creative mind to look at a human strobe light, a gothic fog machine, and a B-class telekinetic ("but DJ, she can fly!". She floats, and can make other things float. I'm shaking in my very fashionable boots) and give them some damn good branding.
So, here's the score (and believe me, I know scores)- You're somewhere public, but with oddly good acoustics. Someone takes a step, and it echoes a little bit too much. Then again. It starts looping- no one's walking anywhere, but now there's a tok-tok-tok of a 4/4 beat. I used to always have to say the name myself, but nowadays if I'm lucky someone else guesses first.
*DJ-DJ-DJ-DJ-DJ D-D-D-Dastardly!* (they only say it the once, the effect is all me).
From there, you're all part of the performance. Every step, noise, gasp, and laugh? It goes in the soundtrack. I'm a one-man-acapella/percussion looping pedal, and the audience? They're starting to like me. Turns out security guards find it really hard to focus when everything they do gets looped into a live performance. I'm there taking a bow at the item-du-jour, and Eclipse Squad roll in. Midnight's black fog blocks my camera angle, Moonlight *tries* to stun me with a flare (come on kid, *I'm in a cloud of black smoke, think about it*.), then Luna tries to knock me over the head with some slow-moving object. I throw them a bone "Damnit Eclipse Squad! You've foiled me again! But I'll be back for an encore!", and slip out the back.
All fun and games, honestly a great way to spend an afternoon, not to mention boost listens on my soundcloud! Until it got serious.
Turns out strobe-boy *moonlights* as a wannabe hacker (I'm not sorry). Tracked my IP to the little music studio I run. The one with the music program to keep delinquent kids off the streets.
They roll up in full-costume, see some kid that they'd knocked around for graffiti before and decide that this is DJ Dastardly's gang lair, and that the kids are my 'henchmen'. Eclipse Squad might be idiots, but as it turns out, when faced with blinding smoke and flashing lights, a lot of teenagers panic. Now imagine an enclosed space with a *bunch* of panicking teenagers who can't see.
3 concussions, one broken leg, 6 cases of PTSD. I'm just thankful Eva had detention, I don't want to know if Moonlight's power could've triggered her epilepsy.
I'm protective of my kids. They've had a bad run, and I was trying to show them a way *out* of the system. The injuries were one thing, but because they found a little weed on him, Jim's going back to juvie. That was the last straw. | 2022-11-29T06:39:56 | 2022-11-28T20:44:52 | 24 | 11 |
[WP] In a future where everyone has electronic brain implants to make them smarter, you are the only student at a school without an implant due to a birth defect. You are a perfectly functional human being, but your parents, teachers, and classmates treat you like you're mentally handicapped. | Jordan had always felt like he was the only person on earth. Everyone was so accustomed to communicating non-verbally, directly sharing information between their networked minds. Sharing information the old, verbal way was just too cumbersome for them, so Jordan was never included in any discussions.
He had a late 21st-century style mobile phone. He could use it to follow along in class, but it was useless for social situations. Jordan's only friend was Gustav, the phone's AI.
Gustav was pretty smart for an AI that was designed 40 years ago, and he listened. Even his own mother seemed like she grew impatient waiting seconds for Jordan to complete a thought verbally. Gustav always had time for Jordan. Jordan always imagined that talking to Gustav was what talking to another person used to be like.
Several months ago Gustav told Jordan that NASA was predicting a massive solar storm to occur within the next year. Major disruptions to all electronic systems was expected. Jordan couldn't wait. Now people will have to talk to him.
Jordan was in chemistry class when solar storm struck earth. The lights and the video display in the room simultaneously going dark. He looked around at his classmates, looking forward to their dismay, hoping that the network they depended on for communication had also crashed. But there was nothing. Glazed over eyes, slack expressions, people began to slide out of their chairs as if they had suddenly fallen asleep. Some of them were bleeding through their noses. He checked the girl sitting next to him. Not breathing. Same with the next, and the next. Dead, all dead.
Checking the adjacent classrooms, he saw the same. The storm must have fried their brains. Running out of the school and down the street was only more of the same. Dead people on the sidewalks, in the stores, in the cars stopped dead in the street. All the vid displays were blank, the street lights were out. He quickly made his way home. Running, but not sure why, he already knew what he would find.
He had to smash a window to get in. The house's entry system was dead, as were his parents.
This was not what he had imagined. Now he truly was the only person on earth, or at least as near as he could tell. Not much had changed really, it was just him and Gustav, as it had always been.
He pulled out his phone.
"Gustav"
"Gustav..."
"Gustav?" | I remember the first thing my mama told me when they found out I couldn't have the implant.
She said, "I'm sorry, baby. You'll grow up to be a fine and respected woman anyway, I know it." It was probably the only thing she said that wasn't right.
I had grown the first part of life regular like everyone else, and I was more than ready to finally think the way that people are *supposed* to-- to understand things with the ease that our technology allowed.
But I was stuck with my handicapped brain forever. It was a smarter handicapped brain than most children my age who hadn't gotten the implant, but it wouldn't make a difference.
I remember my first thought when I found out that I would be dumb forever was of the hippie folk who believed in the *natural* brain, and the people who believed in the conspiracy that the implants would be used for mind control by the government. I think it was just my natural brain trying to be optimistic about the situation.
It's been years now and the hippies or conspiracy theorists would sometimes enter my mind since then. Was there truth to what they said?
It was career day at the school and my classmates were supposed to present a topic about a job their dream job.
"A few years from now, I'm going to be an astronaut. It may seem silly or mediocre these days, but simple rocket science has equated to tremendous achievements in and out of the world, and I am confident that I am a great contender for this field of work....."
His voice began to fade away as I grew less interested in his speech. They didn't get it. Everyone is smart. The cure to several different cancers and diseases had been invented. We've discovered so many planets throughout the galaxy and beyond, had so many technological breakthroughs, and there was more progress to come. But they're all smart. They're all the same. No one stands out. No one is brilliant because they're all brilliant. The only form of creativity was the type used to make new inventions.
"Kasey, your turn to go up."
I woke from my daydream and walked up to the front of the room quickly. As I stood in front of the class I awkwardly smoothed out my shirt. They were all watching to find out how I would embarrass myself today. Would it be like the time where everyone laughed because I horribly mispronounced the words from the essays we read in French class? Or would I get another condescending remark from my teacher. "Shouldn't you know the history of wumbology, Kasey? It's first grade!"
"Ahem. I've chosen to panoply to you individuals my engrossment on the practice of expression and experience."
A few giggles. They knew I had looked up half of the words in my speech and replaced them with words in the thesaurus. So I gave up on that approach.
I continued, "Look at the world around you! You think you have fun when you go to a dance, you think you've had your fair share of thrill by going sky diving, but you know what? I'm not missing out. You are. Did you know that just a few centuries ago, instead of calculating trajectories when to throw the basketball, people practiced and trained, and knew the exact same things you do, but without the equations? Did you know that people found the beauty in so many things because it was so abstract. Traveling and viewing wildlife was an amazing thing because people got to experience and learn about the new culture and animals around them. You travel, and you've already mastered the language and brain games unique to their culture. You already know the animals and how they behave, why their wings are so beautiful and how they work. Did you ever stop to think that the beauty is in the mystery? The seven wonders of the world were wonderful because of their mystery. Their allure. Maybe leaving the story untold is better than discovering the answer. They used to tell stories around a campfire, you know. Stories about creatures in the woods that left chills inside you because you weren't totally sure if those creatures were actually out there. There were movies which may not have been realistic, but they told amazing stories and the effects, though impossible--nobody could actually survive a fire that crazy, right?-- they left people in amazement or wonder for days. Maybe, just maybe, it could be more beautiful not knowing. Maybe humanity wasn't meant to be this smart, because every great achievement has a backfire. Every great empire falls. Every leader, no matter how great, will end up in a grave."
Nobody clapped. I was just a mentally handicapped girl, anyway. What I said didn't really mean anything.
*edit: formatting* | 2014-05-31T23:00:36 | 2014-05-31T22:49:04 | 90 | 27 |
[WP] You're a door-to-door thief who visits houses when everybody is off at work, but today, you walk into someone about to hang themselves. | Yesterday was one of my best days. At least $400 worth of watches stolen from the Mulberry's over on 4th Street. Those guys are pricks.
*Yesterday was one of my worst days. Every day gets harder. My psychiatrist, Dr. Mulberry, said things would get better. He's such a prick.*
The rush I get from breaking into a house is nothing short of incredible. Maybe I'm an adrenaline junky and there's a different way to get my high? Probably, but nothing nearly as profitable.
*The rush I get from standing on the chair, staring through the noose is nothing short of incredible. This is the only way I can feel. Maybe there's a different way to get my high? Probably, but nothing nearly as definite.*
No car in the drive. Poor shmuck is at work and won't even know what hit him.
*I don't even have my car anymore. The ex-wife got that in the divorce.*
I use my kit to pick the lock, repeating the steps I've done several times before. I step in to the foyer and the floorboard squeaks. My heart jumps, but I remember that no one is home. I take a deep breath, riding off the high. The jewelry has to be somewhere...
*I tie the rope around the fan and create the noose, repeating the steps I've done sever times before. I put my head through the noose and I hear a floorboard squeak from down the hall. My heart jumps, but I remember that no one cares about me anymore. I take a deep breathe, riding off the high. All I have to do now is kick the chair out from under my legs...*
I make my way down the hall to what I presume is the bedroom. Framed pictures of a loving family cover the walls. I take a deep breath, clearing my head. This family probably deserves this.
*I look around the bedroom and spot the picture of my kids and ex-wife next to my bed. We used to be such a loving family. I take a deep breath, clearing my head. I deserve this.*
I reach the end of the hall, pushing the bedroom door open...
*I look down at the chair and kick it out from under my feet. I fall a few inches before the noose tightens around my neck and swing my body around to face the door...*
I lock eyes with a man, hanging from his ceiling fan by a makeshift noose. I freeze as his face turns from tan to red to blue. He swings wildly, clawing at the noose. Chuck?
*I lock eyes with a man standing in the doorway. The rope crushes my windpipe and I can feel my face becoming red. I writhe, clawing at the noose. Dan?*
| And there he is. Just standing there in the kitchen on a chair. The light fixture is set up with a noose. I was planning on lifting their electronics and jewlery but now I'm not so sure.
"Oh. Who are you?" The mid-30s skinny, pale man standing on the chair asks, seemingly unperturbed.
"Uh... Well... Just a door-to-door salesman. The door was unlocked and I, um..." I start to say, trailing off as I look up at him. The pain in his eyes is too much to handle.
"You were gonna rob me blind, weren't you?" The man says, still standing on the chair. "Not like I'm gonna need any of this shit. My cheating wife could use a double surprise."
"Fuck, well, I, uh... I've never... This is new. I think you should rethink what you're about to do, sir." I answer, stepping a little closer and putting down my backpack.
The man scoffs. "You're gonna counsel me in life choices? You're, like, 18 and headed to jail in no time. This is a better choice." The man says, putting his head in the noose.
"Jesus! What the... Take your head out of there. I may be dumb but I know there's more to life than one heartbreaking woman." I reply, grabbing the man's legs out of instinct.
"Get off me, you cunt!" The man yells, kicking me in the stomache.
I double over and look up to see him trying to kick the chair out from under himself. I grab the chair with one hand and my cell with the other.
"What are you gonna tell the cops? You happened to be walking by my house, a total stranger, and saw me in the window?" The man says.
"That works." I retort, dialing 911.
"Come on. Don't call them. I'll come down." The man says, getting his head out of the noose and stepping down from the chair.
"Nice to see you're being resonable." I say, pocketing my cell. "My name's Hector. What's yours?"
"John." He answers shortly, rubbing his neck absently.
"Are you rethinking this now or as soon as I leave are you going to be up there again?" I ask honestly, looking into his eyes, though it pains me to do so.
"I dunno." He says, looking down.
Suddenly, I hear the front door open and a pretty, dark-haired, well-dressed woman walks into the living room. She raises her eyebrows as she sees me.
"Who's your friend, John?" The woman asks, putting her purse on the sofa.
"Hector." John says, averting his eyes out of what looks like anger.
"Are you the cheating wife?" I blurt out before I can stop myself.
The woman's hand goes to her mouth and she says "I never cheated... Why the fuck am I telling you? Who the hell are you?"
"A friend. Your husband was about to hang himself over your alleged cheating. Now that it's all out, I'll be-" but as I open the front door, I see a police officer walking up.
"Hello, sir. We got a report from a neighbour of forced entry. Is the intruder possibly still in the home?" The mustached officer asks.
"No!" Yells John from the kitchen.
"Oh, well would you like to file a report?" The officer asks John, peeking his head in, raising his eyebrows at the noose visible from the front door.
"Early Halloween decorating. No. No report. Thanks, officer." John says hurriedly.
The officer walks off and John's wife steps in front of me to close the door.
"What in the fuck is going on here?" The wife asks, staring me down.
"I saw your husband from the road and-" I start.
"Oh, shut up, Hector. He was going to steal our shit. He caught me before you could find me." John says, coming into the living room.
"Why would you do this to me?" The wife inquires of John, already in tears.
"All the guys you hang- er- spend time with, Lacy. I can't compete. And I'm gonna lose my job if I keep calling in sick. I'm so depressed." John replies, crossing his arms.
"I play DnD and other tabletops. There are mostly guys into that. I'm playing with them, not sleeping with them." Lacy answers, walking over to John and trying to hug him. He pulls away.
"I don't believe it. That one guy, Fred, you must be-" John starts.
"Fred's gay." Lacy says matter-of-factly, going in for the hug again. John allows it.
"I'll just be going now." I mumble, heading towards the door. No one stops me. I walk outside into the hot, midday air and start to cry.
I meant to rob a house today. Instead, I saved someone's life. Maybe this is a new beginning for me.
| 2015-05-04T17:26:54 | 2015-05-04T17:16:14 | 17 | 12 |
[WP][NSFW]When someone masturbates,the person they masturbate to feels it as well. | Jeremy was sitting quietly in his living room. He'd spent most of his Sunday watching football and drinking cheap beer. The game was interrupted by a news bulletin.
Popular actress Jennifer Lawrence died today of a self inflicted gunshot wound. She was overheard minutes before saying, "I.. Can't... Take it... Anymore... It doesn't stop..."
That makes the 103rd actress to commit suicide in 2016 said the announcer just before signing off.
"Wow," thought Jeremy. "Isn't that something? I'm going to google her pictures for old time sake" zip... | Today was the day. Wendy couldn't stand not being seen by him anymore, couldn't stand being ignored. Everyday she would see him and everyday she would walk past, hoping for a glimpse at the least. And everyday she would be let down, walking to the bus with her head down. But today was the day, the day she finally asked out Jack, the boy of her dreams.
The final bell rang and she stumbled out into the hallway along with the other students. She turned left and approached the exit, by which Jack and his friends were always hanging out. Nervous, she considered just walking past them and going on about her usual way. But instead, she swallowed her fear and told herself "you can do this."
With each approaching step, her heart beat faster and faster. And with each step, she became more and more nervous. Finally, she was standing jut outside the circle of boys, and it was too late to turn back. With all of them looking at her as though she was out of her mind, she managed to get out the words "Hey Jack. Would you, uh,"
She paused. She was freaking out on the inside. All of the boys surrounding her were staring, looking at her as though she was something from outer space.
"Would you like to, uh" she continued, "would you like to go out sometime?"
She froze. She felt as though her heart was about to jump out of her chest. She wanted to run but she was too nervous. She was waiting for the worst.
Jack, who know held the attention of all his friends in the circle, as well as Wendy's, replied "Are you serious?"
Wendy's heart dropped. "Do you really think I'd go out with you?"
Jack and his friends starting laughing. Wendy, holding back tears, couldn't think of anything to do besides run. She wanted to just run home and hide, but knew it was too far, so she instead ran to the bathroom to hide. Trying to keep the tears at minimum and the crying as quiet as possible, she wept into her sweater in the bathroom stall. Then, all of the sudden, she felt a sensation. She knew what this feeling was, but didn't understand why she was feeling it. It grew stronger, and stronger, until finally it culminated into a feeling of pure ecstasy. She tried to hold back any sounds, but was unable to. A stain then spread slowly through her underwear and into her pants. Feeling confused, sad, and embarrassed, she exited the bathroom, wanting to get home as soon as possible. But she wasn't the only one exiting the bathroom. To her surprise, she saw Jack, across the hallway, zipping up his pants, as he too was just finishing up in the boy's room. Then Wendy noticed something, a stain on Jack's pants, similar to her own. Jack then gave her a wink as he walked back to his group of friends. | 2016-03-12T07:15:27 | 2016-03-12T06:27:04 | 303 | 119 |
[WP]If you murder someone, your jail sentence is as long as their remaining life would have been. | I sit in the dock awaiting my sentence. I know I should be afraid, or at least nervous but to be honest I am looking forward to going back to prison. Life was tough on the outside. Work was impossible to find for an ex con with a lingering heroine habit picked up on the inside, so I had found myself on the streets. When my welfare had been cut off for my continued drug use I had gotten desperate.
Coming down from a drug stupor the idea had seemed so straight forward, kill some-one young enough and go back to jail for the rest of my life. No more need to eat from dumpsters or do horrible things to get my next hit. The government would provide me with regular meals and drugs were much easier to obtain inside, all I needed was an appropriate victim. When that young girl, fresh out of high school and probably in the big city for the first time, took a wrong turn down the alley he was currently lying it, he acted without a second thought. Sure he felt bad for the girl, she didn't deserve to die, but life is cruel and have to do what you have to do. So here he was, 3 months later after pleading guilty to the murder as quickly as possible, waiting to hear his sentence.
The judge adjusted his glasses and looked at the paper in front of him. He looked confused for a second before clearing his throat and continuing "The defendant has admited guilt in this case and is to be sentenced for the Murder of Isobelle Frew. The length of sentence has been determined as 2 months, with time already served you are free to go."
| A lawyer, young and well dressed, stands in front of a jury and paces for a couple of seconds before he adjusts his glasses and starts to speak.
"Alfred Benson is a name synonymous with murder. Called the most successful serial killer in history and the most efficient with 395 confirmed kills, 210 days in prison. He has often confessed to the crimes and served his time. But, not this time. Why? Because his victim today had another 8 years of life to live. We all know it wouldn't have been pretty if Fred's mom had lived those 8 years with dementia, but this is the world we live in. Freddy Benson does not offer a defense that he put his mother out of her misery to save her the heartache of losing her memories or herself. No, he claims he did not do it. That he was framed, but this is a man with a long history whose finger prints were found on the gun, his gun. This man is a monster who cannot resist killing even his own mother. Do the world a service and find this man guilty. The prosecution rests."
The lawyer sits down and lets the defense offer their closing argument. Benson's lawyer is small and a bit disheveled in dress. He stands and speaks immediately.
"Yes, my client's prints were found on the gun, but forensic testing proved that he did not fire that gun that day. And yes, my client is a serial killer, but in the sense that he saves people some pain, ends their misery a bit early. This type of murder that he is on trial for is not his MO. He poisons his victims. The gun is for defense, and that is the reasonable doubt right there. So many people wanted this man dead or to take the fall for a true life sentence. Mr. Benson's mother was living with him at his request. He loved her. He doted on her. This does not fit at all with the Mr. Benson's previous crimes. It does not fit, so you must acquit. Thank you."
The lawyer sits down and the jury deliberates. They return in a few minutes. The courtroom stands. The foreman reads the verdict.
"We find the defendant guilty."
Freddy had heard this so many times, but this time was different. He was innocent, but he had many enemies. Still, it was only 8 years. He was big, tough, and smart. He would be fine. He just wish he knew who had set him up and killed his mom. If he didn't know any better, he would have guessed it was the lead prosecutor himself.
***
The prosecutor talks to the press and heads to his car. He turns the ignition and lets it warm up for a few minutes. His mother in law would be proud, well, ex-mother in law. He still admired the woman and was so angry when Benson killed her. It was his ex who had finished Benson's mother, but he helped as much as he could. He knew Benson would pick up the gun. He figured it would be enough, but he was overjoyed when he was assigned the case. Eight years still wasn't enough, but it was something. Yeah, Benson would be done for a while and maybe even change his ways, be a reformed man. Or, better yet, die in prison. Either way, justice had been served. The most notorious serial killer in history was behind bars and, ironically, it was for a crime he didn't commit. He can't help but smile at that.
***
[Part II](https://www.reddit.com/r/nickkuvaas/comments/4llzqy/wpif_you_murder_someone_your_jail_sentence_is_as/)
[Part III](https://www.reddit.com/r/nickkuvaas/comments/4lm44f/wpif_you_murder_someone_your_jail_sentence_is_as/)
[Finale](https://www.reddit.com/r/nickkuvaas/comments/4lmf9a/wpif_you_murder_someone_your_jail_sentence_is_as/) | 2016-05-29T07:49:15 | 2016-05-29T06:30:54 | 83 | 36 |
[WP] Every time you die, you get to choose what you'll be reincarnated as. You've chosen ant 4 billion times. | “I don’t know why, I just like it,” I said.
*Again, an ant? Do you realize how many lifeform options there are?*
“Sure. There’s moose, whale. I want ant.”
*You could aspire to be something more challenging.*
“Yeah, tried it. Was a wolf once. Didn’t care for it.”
*That was long ago. We’ve changed lots of things. Many wolves are domesticated now. It’s a whole new animal practically.*
“Canine domesticus? Don’t like fur. Don’t like people. Give me ant.”
She looked up from the ledger documenting every life I had failed at, pages filled with the single line “ant” over and over again. *I can’t force you to try something different but I really think…*
“Look if I wanted something harder I’d do it. Just let me push around some sand grains for a few weeks, maybe I’ll try harder next time.”
*You’re still angry with me.*
“I said ant then too, not plant. They don’t even sound the same.”
*Being a tree is rarely a bad thing. We don’t even grow dogwoods tall enough for that anymore.*
“It was the absolute WORST day to be a dogwood tree in Jerusalem, lady. Give me A-N-T.”
*I see you were an apple tree, about ten thousand years ago…*
“That was a fucking disaster too.” | I laughed uncontrollably each time I was greeted into the afterlife.
They knew me well, the same person always coming back years after years.
I was a regular, a regular passer in the plains of the afterlife.
"What will it be this time?" My life manager said.
Each person who chose to be reborn would get a life manager, and my life manager has known me for all of my life. A life manager was someone you could depend on, most of the time, they would ask you questions about what or who you wanted to be, what kinda life you wanted to live, and then would proceed with the process of being born again.
I had done it at all at some point.
Originally, my first life, was a simple caveman. I stood tall and fare, fighting and hunting, hunting and fighting. And all those darn fires.
It was a good life, a simple life, but little did I know about the afterlife.
I could travel into the future, I could go into the past, I could choose who I wanted to be and what I wanted to do.
But for me?
Oh no. I was too simple. I had heard of others, others who were so wise with the lives they chose and became famous or legendary on Earth.
I could have easily done the same.
But when my life manager looked me in the eyes, I knew he was pleading for me to choose something else.
He saw me so regularly I once popped up on his time off in the heavens.
"Just say it" he said bluntly, "If you wanna be a damn ant again, just say it."
My life manager was a good guy, he really was. He always made my short lives unique and had the growing world around me interact.
I had been in an ant farm in a school once, and I died because a boy named Tommy ate me.
But from the many lives I had of living as an ant, I still enjoyed it.
I was given a job, I had a family, I kept them alive and fulfilled my duties.
It was simple. I liked simple.
But because I choose an ant, my life is always quite short.
Sometimes I think my life manager does that on purpose, it is probably to make me choose something else.
"What do you recommend?" I asked him.
He gleamed with a smile, and a twinkle appeared in his eye.
He thought today was the day, he thought maybe, oh just maybe, I wouldn't choose an ant.
"Well..." he paused as he thought.
"I know you like a simple life", he then proceeded to hand me a few files from his desk.
Where did he get those? Did they just magically appear?
"How about a farmer, a good ol' Texan?"
I skimmed through the file, eyeing the man I might be.
"He looks like a pussy. Next."
My poor life manager sighed.
"Okay, that's okay. Look at the next file" he instructed.
"A samurai? They live quite dangerously but with honor. Maybe you'd like that?"
I pondered as I looked at the file.
Maybe?
Maybe I should?
Maybe I should choose something else?
"How about something more, I don't know, less life threatening?" I suggested.
And that's when my manager knew it. He fucking knew it.
He excitedly searched and found a random folder, I don't even think he looked through it.
"Here!" He prestsened me a file and said it was a random human, a simple human who would live a long and boring life.
"Okay. Sounds good."
I, myself, didn't look at the file.
But to my surprise, I chose to be a human. A human who thought he was an ant. | 2016-12-30T06:41:00 | 2016-12-30T05:41:16 | 42 | 12 |
[WP] Aliens give you a camera and say "only those you photograph will live." You have one year.
All of these responses are so diverse! This was really a great read. I like to imagine that all these different stories are from alternative universes, playing out different roles. Some men rule the World, some men are titled lunatics, and some men are not noticed at all. Well done, everyone! | “Sir? Did you want dinner?”
I looked up, inhaling sharply to rouse myself from my daze, and met Morris’ eyes. It took a moment before I realized what he had asked me, which I waved off shortly after. Morris looked worried, but, being a good manservant, did not intrude upon my thoughts, instead offering an “as you wish, sir” before excusing himself.
My eyes hesitated before drifting back down to the LED display on the camera, the now stagnant message “Memory Full” burning brightly as the accelerometer detected movement.
All these memories, and not one person here to share it with.
The plan had gone off as expected when the aliens first arrived. It was a pretty grand spectacle to have extra-terrestrials land in the middle of Central Park, address the city regarding their impending assimilation, and drop a camera in my lap as I attempted to keep my jaw from dropping into my book. The other slack-jawed onlookers heard them say, as their native language fell to the background of their translators, that only those I photographed would live. It was all I could do once they had left to hold onto it as people desperately clawed at me.
After that, it was a steady stream of people begging to be photographed, pleading to be spared. Politicians came in droves to ingratiate themselves to me. CEOs came to personally deliver extravagant gifts in hope of earning a place on the SD card. Men and women throwing themselves at me, offering the best night/week/month/year of my life in exchange for a press of the shutter button. Sure, people tried to take the camera by force, but when you offer an entire army survival, their allegiances get re-evaluated real quick. In a matter of two weeks, I was living as not just a member of the top 1%, but as #1. My phone contacts included the private numbers of every powerful person on earth: they were at my beck and call.
And here I was alone.
To be fair, not everyone who came to me was fawning over me, but who could tell who was sincere and who was playing me? How would I know if the lady with the four kids and the stained maid’s uniform wasn’t just pulling a fast one on me, trying to get her kids pictures taken without her? What if her kids were just trying to get on my good side? What if she was just like everyone else who offered me… everything they ever worked for.
Sure, anyone I summoned would come running. They wouldn’t risk me deleting them. But nobody wanted to stay, at least not in a non-sycophantic way. It was disgusting what an entire race of humans had sunk down to...says the guy who personally built the sand pit. Boohoo says the man who has had everything he could possibly have wanted for the past 350 days, who feasted on the fruits of other people’s labor as he held salvation barely out of reach.
I looked back down at the LED display as the words came back to brilliance. My finger crept to the play button, bringing up the entire album. I slowly moved the selector up to the very first picture. I could feel my heartbeat begin to race, my palms sweaty. I almost hadn’t realized what my fingers were doing until the confirmation came up.
“Delete picture?”
No. No that wouldn’t do. I did it properly this time.
“Delete all?”
I hesitated for a moment.
“Deleted”
“Morris! Could you come in here for a moment.”
The heavy, ornately decorated doors swung open as he dutifully entered the throne room. “Sir?”
“Is my dinner ready?”
“Sir, you told me not to prepare your dinner. Might I suggest delivery?”
I chuckled to myself. “Morris, come closer, please. I have something to discuss with you.”
Morris came closer, staying outside of arm’s length. “What is the matter, sir?”
I held up the camera. “In all the time we’ve been here at Buckingham, have I taken your picture?”
Morris shook his head with a quick grimace.
“Why have you never asked?”
“I’ve nothing to offer, sir. You pay for my services, handsomely, and I’ve spent the last year enjoying that pay with my wife and children.”
“You’re married?”
“Yes, sir, happily, so I wouldn’t get any ideas.”
Cheeky British bastard. “Morris, you are officially relieved of duty for the remainder of our time on this planet, with full pay, on the condition that you take your family on vacation.”
Morris raised an eyebrow. “Might I ask why, sir?”
“See the world! Visit your loved ones. Use my jet or yacht or...whatever. Just do me a favor?”
“Of course, sir.”
I held out the camera by the strap. “Take lots of pictures.” | Alien abduction, let me tell you, is nothing like the movies. So if you were expecting a story of flying saucers, of bright blue beams of light and levitation, you are set to be rather disappointed.
It began with the sudden appearance of a black, metallic dodecahedron about the size of a garbage truck in my back garden. I had been pottering around the kitchen, making myself a cup of tea; one minute, the garden had been empty save for an ugly rosebush in the middle of the lawn that I'd never got around to digging out; the next minute, there it is was.
I think I must have squinted at it for a few moments, trying to think up a rational explanation for its intrusion upon the lawn, but it seemed a little too large to have come over the fence from the neighbour's children and so I quickly put rationality to one side and shrieked. Which was the moment that I realised that *everything* had stopped.
The cup of tea, which I had dropped in surprise, was still in mid-air, splashes of tea frozen like brown petals around it. A large fly, wings static, hovered in the air a few feet from my face. I reached out one hand, finger outstretched, and prodded the fly; it moved back a few inches but stayed resolutely suspended in the air. From what I could tell, with the obvious exception of myself, time had completely stopped.
"Terribly sorry about this," said a small voice from my left, and I looked down to see what looked like a small blue teddy bear standing by the kitchen door. "Time is of the essence or I'd not have to resort to such crude methods."
"Crude methods?" I asked.
"Mmm," said the bear and clicked on a small box he held clutched in his right hand (paw?). "Follow me."
Now, let me explain. At this point my mind was thinking "you must be joking, I don't know what is going on here but I can tell you one thing I know for sure; and that is that I am not going *anywhere* with you" but - despite this - my body said "sure thing, mr. blue bear."
And so, despite my mind desperately shouting orders to stand still, my body plodded out of the kitchen on auto pilot, traipsed barefoot into the garden, and then trudged up a ramp and into a portal that had opened on the side of the dodecahedron. The inside of the craft smelled strangely like burnt toast; which was the last thing I had time to notice before everything went suddenly black.
"He's coming round," said a small voice to my right.
"I don't think he is," said a small voice to my left.
"No, look, his eye coverings are all twitchy."
"Oh yes, so they are," there was the sound of furry paws clapped together. "Wonderful!"
I cracked open one eye, hoping this had all been some kind of terribly strange and not particularly pleasant dream. But no; I was lying on a flat surface, staring up at a featureless but lit ceiling, and two small blue teddy bear-like creatures were peering down at me.
"Oh bollocks," I said, "this isn't a dream is it?"
"Afraid not," said the bear on the right.
"Please tell me this isn't the bit where you anal probe me," I said, a degree of desperation creeping into my voice.
"Anal probe you?" said the bear on the left.
"What kind of perverts do you think we are?" asked the bear on the right.
"Well, I've just heard you aliens like to do that sort of thing," I mumbled, sheepishly.
"Sorry to dash your hopes," said left bear, "but anal probing isn't on the menu."
"No," said right bear, "We have brought you here because you have been chosen to save mankind."
"What?" I spluttered, "Me, save mankind? Are you sure you've taken the right person?"
"Oh yes," said the bear on the right, "It's definitely you. We ran the algorithms 393 times to be sure."
"But save *mankind*?"
"Oh, not *all* of it," laughed the bear on the left, "Oh dear no, that would be a silly thing to ask."
"No," said the bear on the right, "We need you to save the best of mankind. The very cream of the crop. Our analysis has predicted that you are the single most objective person on the entire Earth."
"But why?"
"Well, I don't know," said the bear on the left, "It could be purely a product of genetics, although I'd imagine parental upbringing and environmental factors also contributed to your objectivity..."
"No," I interrupted. "I mean, why do I need to save mankind?"
"Oh that," said the right bear, "Yes, we should probably have mentioned that. Gamma Ray Burst. Big One. Heading this way; going to boil the planet to a crisp."
"When?"
"366 days from now."
"Only a year?"
"A year and a day."
"But can't you help us stop it?"
The bear on the right grimaced slightly, "Would love to, really I would, but there are protocols for these sort of things and - frankly - we're bending them a bit going this far."
"But how many people can I save?"
"Well, not everyone, as we mentioned; but quite a few. At least if you want to."
"Why are you doing this?"
"Got a soft spot for the place," said the left bear, "Would be a shame to see all you humans gone."
"And how do you expect me to save them?"
"Oh, you'll like this," said the bear on the right, "you have to take their photo."
"Their photo?"
"Yep, you photograph them and we'll make sure they're scooped up before things go thoroughly tits up around here."
"And that's all I have to do?"
"Well," said the bear on the right, "You only have a year. 365 days and everyone you photograph we'll save. Relocate you somewhere nice and altogether less Gamma Ray Bursty."
I began doing calculations in my head. 365 days. It was a lot. I could travel, I could take pictures of people in sport stadiums. I could take pictures of people at concerts. I could take pictures of heaving cities. I was sure, even with the limit of a year, that I could save millions. Maybe tens of millions.
"So, you up for it?" asked the left bear.
I nodded.
"Brilliant, well we'll see you in a year then," smiled the right bear, before looking slightly downcast. "Sorry about this again"
The world went black.
I opened my eyes and the tea cup smashed loudly on the kitchen floor, china flying in every direction.
For a second I thought it had just been a dream, a momentary bout of imaginative lunacy, but then I caught the faint whiff of burnt toast and I noticed the camera that was sitting on the kitchen worktop.
I looked at it. Then I laughed.
I had 365 days to save as much of mankind as I could photograph. And the blue teddy bear aliens, in their wisdom, had chosen to give me a 35mm Kodak Funsaver camera.
27 shots to save the world. | 2017-01-27T12:11:12 | 2017-01-27T11:56:04 | 2,096 | 479 |
[WP] It turns out that adrenaline is considered one of the most illicit drugs in 90% of the civilized portions of the Galaxy. Among the circle of sapient races, humans are the only one known to produce it naturally. | Among the lines of hustling Warriors in dark armor, one carried an important message.
"Jarod, did you get my parcel?"
"Yep, got it an hour ago. Thanks!"
A message that will hit "reset".
"Hey Yosef! Yosef!"
It will make them bear their teeth and arms.
"YOSEF!"
It will sap their strength to stand.
"I have to tell Leader!"
"Wha-ok!" Dominic grabs his cell-radio from his belt, hits speed dial and brings it to his left ear. "Sam, this is Dominic. Messenger charging your gates at Epsilon oh-four. How copy?"
"Solid Copy, Dominic. Tell COMMS to purge the lines again, would you please? The static is terrible. Over."
"I'll get right on that. Dominic, out."
It will make their spirits flare and anger surge.
Yosef waved to the guards at the gate as he ran and they waved back. He is sweating, warm drops flowing down his back under his armor. Blood splattered on a few places, one blotch in particular over a single, thin yellow stripe on his right shoulder.
Yosef almost ran through the sliding doors into the uplink booth had they not parted a moment later. His training kicked in. Calming the mind and forcing his nerves to settle. He reached for his cell-radio again and stood in front of the terminal as the doors behind him closed and locked.
He inserted his cell-radio into the bottom slot and waited five seconds...
The screen didn't light up, but his helmet was pinged.
"Hello?"
"Tell me, how fucked are we?"
"Bad, sir."
"Report."
Yosef spent the next several minutes debriefing the Leader before he got to the end...
"...about ninety percent of the known sapient peoples learned that our bodies produce adrenaline."
"..."
"It's considered to be one of the most illicit drugs in this galaxy."
"Is that all?"
"Yes, sir."
"Code Black." The line went dead.
Yosef suddenly felt cold and whispered to himself, "Not my children. Not my children." He crumpled inside the booth, removed his helmet and gripped his head. Flashbacks of previous tragedies storming through his mind-
-the doors open.
"Hey! Get up! We have a Code Black!" Someone yelled at him before returning to the mass of Warriors streaming back into the hangar. Yosef looked at his brethren and took in their strides. Some were in full armor of varying configurations, their helmets pitch black concealing their faces. The rest were in BDU and undersuits with rage carved into their faces.
Seeing them snapped him back into reality.
"HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!" Yosef screamed, running with his people as everyone went to their stations. Putting on their armor, loading tanks with ammunition and fuel, attaching guns to light vehicles and more.
***
I felt the past slowly creep up and its cold hand gripped my spine. Its bones offered no comfort, but remind me of the grave truth.
I felt my bones speak of the days when we used to shiver in caves.
I felt my blood scream at me, seeking to make dead those that threaten my chosen family.
Even as I charged through the lines, I couldn't help but see our previous war before me.
It's happening all over again.
Tracked. Hunted. Exploited. Haunted. We fought for over seven-hundred years to secure our right to live. We pulled victory from the jaws of defeat.
These fools have no idea what we've been through. They will learn of the strength of my family.
And they will fear my family. | Steven was in his lab when he heard the crash.
It shook his world, sending bottles of cleaning product clattering to the concrete floor. More than one vial of glass broke.
"Jesus Martha!" He screamed. "You leave the stove on again? Martha?"
He blinked, and suddenly he was outside with a bag of blue crystals in one hand. He jingled it merrily. That had to be record time, or perhaps he had forgotten how long it usually took him to get into the yard. Either way, he supposed that this batch was a good one.
A REALLY good one, judging by the thing he saw sitting in a crater on his lawn. It was sliver - or, at least the parts of it that hadn't been charred black looked silver-ish. At one point it might have been sleek, shaped like a squat teardrop, but now it just looked like a mess.
"Martha? You in there?" Steven asked. "This ain't a very funny joke if you is."
If Martha was in the strange thing, she didn't answer. Steven looked at the ring of fire expanding from the crater and frowned. The lawn was no loss - most of it had been dead or dirt anyway - but he couldn't afford a fire in his lab. Might draw suspicion, after all. So he set about trying to stamp it out, not even noticing that he didn't have on his shoes.
He was so preoccupied with cursing at the flames that he didn't even notice when a circular doorway of light appeared in the side of the strange craft. What slumped out of the thing was not Martha, as Steven had supposed, but something far, far stranger. It had a bulbous head, round as a beach ball, with only a single eye covered in strange lumps. It stood tall on three suckered tentacles, a head or two taller than Steven even from inside the crater. It was also, apparently, very drunk.
<Give me...the thing...> It said, the universal translator around its neck slurring the words appropriately. <I need it...just a bit more...>
"Who the hell are you?" Steven asked, whirling around. "I don't recall inviting any guests to come hang about. Get the hell off my prop-"
He caught a glimpse of the creature and stopped mid-sentence. Steven squinted, as if trying to make something out, looked away, and then looked back. Nope. It was still there.
<I smell it!> The creature said. <Give it to me!>
It rose up, extending a tentacle over the top of the crater, and pulled itself free of the wreckage. Steven gave a yelp like a kicked dog.
"Get the hell away from me, you freak 'o nature!" He yelled, backing away. But the thing didn't seem to be in a mood for bargaining.
<Stronger! It smells stronger!> It screeched, opening a rounded spike-filled mouth just under its eye. <Give it to me, tiny thing! Give me your blood!>
It was all Steven could take. He screamed.
"I said go!" He said, fleeing, but the thing was right at his heels.
<Blood! I smell blood!> It crowed, and half-tumbled in his direction. For all of its efforts, it only succeeded at slamming into the side of his garage.
"Watch it!" Steven yelled "There's valuable stuff in there!" But again, the thing ignored him, content to tumble vaguely after him.
Steven ran into the road, trying to put as much distance between himself and the bizarre creature as he could. "I don't want no trouble, just get the hell out of here!" He screamed, running to the tree-lined corner at the end of his street. If he could only get behind it, maybe he had a chance.
<Blood! Blood! It smells good, please! I'm jonesing so hard, I just need a few liters!> It pleaded.
Steven clenched his teeth. It was so close now, slopping up behind him like a rotten octopus. It was too big, too fast - there was no way he could get away. "Lord Jesus, way up in heaven." He said. "I know I ain't been the most Christian of folk, but I swear if you save me I'll do good. I'll change - I won't do no drugs no more, I promise! Please!" He tripped over the side of the steep curve, falling to the dirt, and he knew he was dead.
Fortunately for him, he was wrong. Right at that very moment, a driver came screaming around the corner, barreling ahead without bothering to slow down or look. Behind him, there was a sickening squelch, the screeching of wheels, and a blaring horn as the car collided with something big, wet, and slimy.
Steven looked up, spitting dirt from his mouth, and crowed in victory. "THANK YOU JESUS!" He said, kissing the dirt.
The thing was dead.
"Steven? Did you leave the stove on again?" Cried a woman with rollers in her hair from a nearby window. "What the hell is that thing?"
Steven didn't respond. He was looking at the creature where it lay on the pavement, oozing thick blue blood. It was beautiful, Steven thought. Beautiful and so, so familiar.
Ignoring both his wife and the irate honking of the driver, Steven knealt down in the road beside the thing and dipped a finger in the goo. A clump of it stuck to his nail, glistening like crystal. He stuck it in his mouth and gasped.
"Martha!" he called. "Call the boys and get the buckets! We're gonna be RICH!" | 2017-02-28T20:53:03 | 2017-02-28T20:48:48 | 111 | 56 |
[WP]Some time ago humans were put on the 'Only Contact in Case of Emergency' list. Now a threat to the galaxy has arisen and humanity is it's last hope. | It wasn’t that I hate Humanity; no one could hate Humanity. It was just that something about them... what was the phrase humans used... insected me about them.
About a millennium ago, they had left the galactic community. Their plans to increase their energy production were constantly, as they saw it, delayed and interrupted by the Kadaian members of the Senate. The Security Council was concerned by their high investment into their Defence Forces, fearing a repeat of the Ifacian Rebellions, and forced a reduction to Humanity’s military research and production. Humanity also saw the number of seats allocated to them in government as not representative of their long service and contributions, despite being representative of their small population size.
So they left. They were given their local cluster of a couple of dozen stars and went. One diplomat, upon signing their withdrawal treaty, is reported to have said “If you Richards ever find the poo moving laterally, give us a domed, metallic percussive instrument. Otherwise urinate elsewhere”. The galactic community could never understand Humanity’s obsession with waste products but since that day, members of the Senate have been known fondly as “Richards”.
There were a couple of attempts to contact humanity. When the emission of a small number of stars suddenly shifted into the infrared, the Kadains sent an angry communique, condemning their use of Dyson Spheres and demanding their immediate removal. The message went unanswered. A large explosion, larger than any supernova, was seen near Epsilon Eridani. The Security Council sent a message asking if they needed assistance. Again, no reply was sent. Eventually, the galactic community stopped sending messages.
Until today.
Beings from out side our galaxy arrived in the Suctum-Centaurus Arm. We welcomed the travellers with open upper limbs. They responded with aggression the likes of which we had never seen. Our defence force put up a valiant fight but slowly and surely, they push us back. Our ship yards could not keep up with the demand. Where they could, we did not have enough energy available to power them. Where we did, we were out gunned.
The Security Council had decided that the “poo was now travelling laterally” and asked me to contact Humanity. So I am. I’m sending the message, the first in centuries. I ask, beg, that Humanity help. To use their power supplies and weapons to push the invaders back, back into dark space. I can only hope they choose to reply.
Now, we wait. | "It's flashing! It's flashing!" cried George, who was sliding recklessly through the corridors of his place of employment.
The floors, regularly buffed and cleaned, allowed him to slide round corners in a way that would possibly remind someone of a popular 80's film, but the year was 2142 and that cinema classic had long fallen into obscurity. Perhaps this would've been due to a change in popular culture over the century or so that had passed but it would be fair to say that it was more likely due to The Last World War, which saw use of nuclear weapons that turned the planet into a borderline inhabitable nuclear wasteland.
George eventually reached the office of his superior, Stan, who was idly flicking through intergalactic television streams that occupied a large screen in his office.
"Stan, it's flashing mate! The big one, bloody flashing!" He repeated as he leaned against the doorway catching his breath.
Stan now looked equally as excited and terminated the feed on his screen. His response to the news led him to immediately begin fumbling on the computer in front of him, the antiquated keyboard being hammered in the process.
"Which one?" Stan inquired, not looking up from his monitor.
"The big one!"
"The big red one?" Stan probed, his eyes widening.
"The big blue one, Stan!" George responded, ignoring the confusion he nearly just caused.
After a few moments, another image filled the large screen which had previously hosted Stan's favourite Venusian soap opera. It was the image of an alien general, sat behind a desk on the other side of the galaxy. Though his eyes were held on stalks protruding from his forehead and his large lipless mouth stern below two slits that were his nose, the general was visibly distressed.
"This is General Vancha of the Royal Army of Cephus-B. Am I speaking to the Senior Manager of Silo One?" The general asked, in perfect english.
"Y-Yes sir, I am Stanley Forsworth, GM of Silo One." Stan fumbled, almost forgetting that he was in fact the top ranking member of a nuclear weapons storage facility.
The facility in question, amongst nineteen others of its kind, were the only functioning buildings left on Earth, dotted over the planet's surface, the space between them host to various radiated creatures that had no choice but to adapt to their new surroundings. After The Last World War, the remnants of the human race had no choice but to flee their former home and seek aid from the few other planets they had contact with. Alliances formed and eventually a Venusian military specialist had concocted a plan to keep Earth useful, as not to waste such real estate. The plan was to use the planet as a storage facility for various weapons of war, and should the need to use them arise, use a wormhole to deliver the payload to its destination.
Fortunately the known universe was either in peacetime, or able to resolve any issues with more domestic methods. It was now apparent to Stan and George that somewhere across the galaxy, a real shitstorm had been kicked up.
"We are requesting the release of item 12-B in its entirety, the necessary warrant forms will already be in the requisition folder on your workstation." General Vancha explained, collectedly, his facial expression not changing once.
Stan checked the aforementioned folder and the General was correct, but he shuddered internally at the thought of what the Royal Army of Cephus-B needed with 30 Martian H-Bombs. Resuming a professional disposition, he lifted his head to address George, who was still sweating profusely.
"You heard the man George, lets get this show on the road." He ordered albeit informally.
On the observation deck of their facility, George and Stan sat around a small table they had brought up from the cafeteria, on which was a couple of beers and an ashtray, which periodically received a clump of ash from Stan's cigarette. They had made the necessary arrangements and primed the H-Bombs for release, and would do so once the technicians on Cephus-B had materialized the wormhole necessary for these weapons of mass destruction to cross such a long distance in very little time. The release hatch exposed all 30 of the Martian tools of destruction, and after having sat there for so long they were a dull brown colour, giving the appearance of a large box of chocolates. An incredibly deadly, planet destroying box of chocolates.
Eventually a large disc appeared half a mile ahead of the release hatch, and through it could be seen a planet in the distance, shaded with hues of green and blue. Automatic detection of the wormhole completed the process, and the Martian H-Bombs, held together in a frame, soon sailed through to their destination.
"Rather them than us ey, George." Stan commented through a veil of smoke, as he extinguished his cigarette.
Edit: Formatting.
| 2017-09-25T10:35:28 | 2017-09-25T09:53:11 | 80 | 17 |
[WP] You are a time traveler in 1918, and you just accidentally said "World War One" | Townsman: Excuse me sir, did you just say, "World War One?"
Agent Brown: I suppose I did.
Townsman: Whatever do you mean?
Brown: Just that, I think the world is going to be at war and I don't think this is going to be the only time.
Townsman: Makes perfect sense. | "World War One?" Christopher asked with a quizzical gaze. "Why are you calling this hell that we've been dropped into World War One? It's not like it's certain something like this is going to happen again, I'd be surprised if we saw any conflict again in our lifetime after the atrocities we've been witness to."
I didn't have the heart to tell poor Christopher that whilst this war we were fighting in did matter and would change the world, it would not be the last war of this magnitude and the worst was yet to come.
I'd traveled back in time to the first great armed conflict of the 20th century to do first hand research on the archaic weaponry and tactics used by the military bodies of the past, as well as to gain an accurate record of how it affected the politics and people of the time.
I'd done all this just to write a first grade thesis on how war has evolved with the times and the negative impacts it carries and I just made one of the biggest screw ups any person who messes with time travel could make, I referred to this hell scape before me as World War One.
"Ah, just a slip of the tongue Chris, you know it just sounds right, rolls off the tongue." I answered as the enemy troops continued to fire on our position, one of the soldiers of our platoon falling down beside me as a bullet strikes into his skull "I'm sure you're right and we won't have to see, take part of, or loose friends in a conflict of this scale again"
As the firing halts on my position momentarily, I lift myself up out of the trench, readying my rifle I take careful aim and shoot at an enemy soldier who has just raised his head from their side. He falls, dead or wounded I don't know, I'm aware what I'm doing is foolish, actually taking part in this war could change events on a massive scale if I kill or even merely injure the wrong person.
I duck back down into the trench after seeing this unknown soldiers body disappear from my line of sight, those thoughts at the back of my mind, surviving being at the front.
"You think so? You think that after we teach these bastards that they should have stayed at home that we might have a chance for peace in the future?" Christopher smiles at himself with the thought before lifting himself up from the trench, only to fall back down, dead.
"I hope so Chris... I really do hope that there will be peace after this war, sometime..." I grip my rifle tightly ready to try to take down one of these bastards for Christopher, I lift my head and-
(Sorry for the bad writing and lack of knowledge, been a while since I've had a look at WW1 but writing this has got me inspired so I may go read up on my history and come back and revise this at some stage.) | 2017-12-10T11:10:37 | 2017-12-10T10:39:32 | 31 | 21 |
[WP] You are God, and you wanted to experience life as a human to see how you would turn out. In order to do that you became a baby that was born and you made yourself forget that you are God until your 30th birthday. It's your 30th birthday and you are a serial killer waiting for his death penalty.
Edit: Holy shit I wrote this and went straight to bed, I'm going to read all of your replies now, thank you. This is my first writing prompt, I'm so glad you guys liked it. | Ah, I said to myself, so they don't like it when you do that.
I had perfect memory in that moment, my transcendence repurposing my powers as I saw fit according to my holy whims. I could feel the blood dripping down my hands, each life taken no less recent to my mind than the present. The screams, the emotions flushing across their faces, even the chemical computers coursing through their veins as open to me as my own thoughts.
Funny, though, they didn't always get so upset about it. I guess it gets harder over time.
Where was my notebook again?... —ah!
I scribbled my findings down below the other notes.
`6. Thou shalt not kill.`
The clock reset and I settled in for another round. This was going to be a good one, I could feel it.
| “James Joseph…” The judge shuffles around a couple papers. “You have been found guilty of… over 14 hundred counts of first-degree murder,” She whispers quietly as she counts, “ over twelve hundred accounts of assault with a deadly weapon and,” Perplexed, she continues, “My God, this just seems to keep going. Do you have any last words?”
James seems completely out of it. As if he had been pondering something deep. So deep, it stole every ounce of attention a human could give.
“James!” Yells the judge as she snaps her fingers in his direction. “Hellooo!”
“Oh.” He says as he snaps back.
He takes a deep breath. And in a strikingly calm tone, “No…”
“Alright-” The Judge readies her gavel. “I hear by sentence you too-” “I meant *no…* To the charges.” He interrupts.
With a bewildering look, “Excuse me?”
“I’ve actually just remembered…” He rises to his feet. The prison clothing and chains that were once wrapped around his body- pass through him, as if he was made of air. They float to the ground as this muscular naked man stands at his table. A collective gasp follows as everyone in the room looks upon him. “I… apologizes, but I have somewhere to be.” He steps around his table and beings to slowly approach the judge.
“What the- Guards, constrain him!” She yells out. “Sir! get *back!*” Yells one of the guards as he and other officers rush towards him.
They dive towards him. Arms stretched out, thinking their tackle will take him down easily. But they also phase right through, Hitting the ground hard letting out a yelp in pain.
James reaches the foot of the judge's podium and everyone beings to scream and panic. “Everyone!” Yells James, settling the room for a moment. “I am deeply sorry for the hurt that I’ve caused upon you people. To break hearts was never my intention. But they are *truly* in a better place now. And in time, you too will see it.” He pauses and looks deeply into others faces. “Some sooner than others. But I promise you will all see it… You all shall not suffer for long. But my time with you is finished and I must be on my way. I’m sorry.”
James closes his eyes, bows his head. As he stands there, his entire body begins to glow. His glow is so bright, people shield their eyes to not be blinded. Then suddenly, crash. The ceiling has a large scorched hole leading up and out towards the sky. James is gone. And the words “I love you all” is burned into the wood panels were he last stood.
Everyone is speechless.
&#x200B;
Sometime later.
\*Hox News Theme\*
*Breaking news from the trial of the century. James Joseph, Americas most wanted criminal has apparently exploded into energy and was last seen bursting out of the roof of the Washington Court House. Officials are still trying to understand what just happened. But it is clear the James has vanished. All the churches all over the world are going absolutely bananas at the potential of the second coming of Christ. But who really knows? More on this at noon.* | 2018-11-22T19:03:39 | 2018-11-22T17:31:17 | 980 | 112 |
[WP] The galaxy is actually full of life and advanced civilizations. Everyone just leaves Earth alone because that's where The Great Old Ones are imprisoned, and nobody wants to wake them up. | "Well, hell Marley."
"What is it, sir?"
"When you were given the mission to install the prison containing the great scourge of the galaxy, you were under strict orders to follow the law on alien planetary conduct."
"Yes, and?"
"And! I'm detecting a fork."
"A fork, sir?"
"Yes! A god damn fork. You were eating down there?"
"You know I have hypoglycemia."
"Well, yes. I do. But the law clearly states to leave no contaminants behind! What do you think will happen now!?"
"We also left a prison down there. Full of prisoners."
"Sterilized prison! And that's beside the point!"
"What's your point, sir?"
"The fork is a hazardous contamination!"
"It's a fork."
"A fork! With your spit all over it! It's clearly hazardous!"
"On a dead rock, who's going to care?"
"Dead for now, maybe! But what if some of your microbes survive and in a billion years there'll be a highly evolved species who find and opens the prison!"
"That seems highly unlikely to happen."
"But it might!"
"So, you want me to go back down there and retrieve the fork?"
"I should have you do just that! But the damage has already been done!"
"Then may I offer a suggestion, sir?"
"...Fine, go ahead."
"We could blast it with radiation."
"No, we can't do that. It's too close to the prison!"
"Nobody would know."
"I would!"
"Fine, then what do you propose we do about the situation, sir?"
"Purge the records and pray! Pray that your fork won't spell doom for the future of our galaxy!" | Marie raised her hand impatiently.
"Yes Ms. Brunelle?"
"What exactly is here?" she asked pointing to the map of solar system. "There, the third planet from the sun".
"That's way too close to the sun Marie. It's a deserted planet" interrupted one of the boys sitting in the back of the class.
"Simon! Stop talking when it's not your turn, especially when you're blurting out false information" replied Professor Xao.
"But I tho..." he started.
"QUIET SIMON" the professor said with a menacing tone.
With a blushing face Simon sunk in his seat and remained quiet.
"Well," the professor started, "The Old Ones aren't in the curriculum until fourth year– but since we are ahead in the agenda I guess I could give you guys a crash course".
She looked around worriedly, walked to the door and gazed into the hallway as if there could be not witness. She returned to the front of the class and sighed. All of the students noticed their teacher's uneasiness and were now wholly captivated by the information that was to come.
"Well the Old Ones are the ancestors to the Neo Sapiens– the Homo Sapiens.."
The class didn't even react. Even Simon was paying close attention to professor Xao.
She continued: "However our evolutionary paths diverged when a small group rebelled against the AI government.
Simon slowly raised his hand without breaking eye contact with his teacher.
"What's a AI?" he asked.
"Right," she began, "AI stands for artificial intelligence. The Homo Sapiens had enough technological to prowess to program intelligence in their tools. At first the AI were implemented into simple things: some AI would help them make complicated calculations. Instead of maps they had an AI assist them navigate through the cities, or manage the lights in their house, and other small things like that. But Homo Sapiens slowly began programming AIs that hat independent thoughts. This kickstarted the AI revolution. They would use them for more complicated tasks: being unbiased judges, more accurate surgeons, more impressive athletes and then slowly the AIs took the Homo Sapiens' place in society. Nobody would trust another Homo Sapiens for anything because they were more likely to make mistakes. In the end, the government was made up of AIs exclusively, Homo Sapiens were only used in dangerous tasks such as mining underground for minerals or undersea. It was not worth to risk an AI if a human could do such a simple task. In the end, the creators became slaves to their creation."
"So when did the Homo Sapiens get to Europa?" asked Simon, forgetting to raise his hand.
"Well, a group of Homo Sapiens rebelled against the government and secretly planned a migration to this moon. And they were successful. Our ancestors brought back a lot of technology but with the the Neo Commandments, with the first commandment is never to attempt to create an artificial intelligence. And thus have guided our society to this prosperous state".
"And, what happened to the AIs and the Old Ones?"asked Marie.
"The AIs do not have the ambition or curiosity to explore or go beyond the earth. And the Old Ones are oppressed as slaves with only the hope of survival."
"But if we controlled the AI they couldn't help our society? asked Marie. "We wouldn't have to risk our lives underground for our water"
"Our species almost went extinct because of the power of AIs. It is one of the Neo Commandments for a reason Marie..."
&#x200B;
"...Marie..?"
"..Professor Brunelle?"
"..Professor...?"
She slowly woke up. "What is it?" she asked with as if lost in thoughts.
"Professor Brunelle– we are approaching the Earths atmosphere".
"Good" she replied in an excited voice. "After all these years, it's finally time to salvage".
&#x200B;
&#x200B;
&#x200B;
&#x200B; | 2019-03-09T07:13:39 | 2019-03-09T06:59:49 | 36 | 24 |
[WP] A few thousand people around the world suddenly get superpowers based on the character of the last game they played. Highly valued by society you are the exception as everyone laughs at your inherited powers. The thing is, you modded the hell out of your character before this all happened.
Wow I didn't think it would blow up like this. Thank you so much kind stranger for my first ever silver. Freaking my first gold ever that is so awesome. Dont forget to show the great writers of this post some love also :) | They mocked me. Laughed at me. Of course I had to be the one who played Cities:Skylines last. My superpower? The amazing ability to cut through government red tape and expedite municipal construction projects.
For the first time, parks were being built, streets were being paved, and businesses were moving in, all on time and on budget. I could even terraform to a limited degree. If I lowered the terrain in the area I would have to raise it elsewhere. I only had a limited amount of dirt I could keep suspended in my pocket universe you see.
I had complete dictatorial control of the city. Taxes went up and down as I wished. I raised taxes temporarily to generate huge influxes of cash so often I lost count, and I had no elections to fear.
But the others laughed. "Have fun with your budgets!" They'd say, sneering. But little did they know I'd have the last laugh. A lot of them still drove. Their characters weren't superheroes, not most of them. Imagine their surprise when I showed up to their city and started redirecting lanes. The look on solid snake's face when I directed his turn lane to the far lane on the highway so everybody had to cut across three lanes. He sat there, inching his way forward, starting listfully at the clear, open lane he found himself utterly unable to use. It was like the car was on a set of tracks.
I did it to them all. They wouldn't have laughed at me had they known I had installed the traffic manager mod. | Well, i can´t blame them that they laugh at me. I mean, who wouldn´t? A normal man who don´t seem to have any Power except that he is followed at every time by some elvish figures....but, let me start from the beginning, to be precise, the 6th of july.
&#x200B;
It was a normal day, maybe a little warmer, but nonetheless a normal day. Well, it was normal until the Clock hit midnight. I don´t know what happend or why it has happend, but i knew what i have doing at this time....I was playing Warcraft 3 The Frozen throne. yeah, i know a really old game but, i like it. It´s one of my Favorites. And because i was bored and curious, i tested a few Cheat codes...and with a few i mean any code that i could find. But, back to the Story. So, there was i, playing warcraft at midnight and then it happend. I blacked out and woke up in the morning around 9. I thought i just fell to sleep while playing, so i didn´t think much about it. To be honest i didn´t find out that anything happend until i left my house to go to the supermarket and nearly ran into 3 Floating lights, standing in front of my Door. Like every other Human being who looks at 3 ominous lights in front of their house i totally freaked out and walked backwards back into my house and locked the door. The Next three hours i sat at my window and looked at the 3 lights before my house. They didn´t seemed that they want to break in, but neither they looked like they would go away. When it was around 12 o´clock i wanted to call the police, and yes i know that i should have called them earlier, a friend of mine called me, said to me that i should turn on the news. When i turned them on, i saw my friend. Winking at a camera with his mobile, while he deflects bullets with a sword in his right hand. This was the moment when i realized that i didn´t fall a sleep last night, that the ghostly lights outside of my house aren´t there too hurt me and that my friend just turned into the thing every gamer hates, an Yasou.
The Next few weeks were funny. Every other day, there was a great fight who was filmed by news teams and by a few streamer. Chaos was the new order in this time, the police and army were outmatched by single persons and the Gouvernement changed nearly daily due to megalomaniac or bored people. But, this times ended some day. A new, strong Gouvernement was formed, ruled by a triumvirat. Most of the "Evil Players" are in Prison and the rest use their powers to help others and for daily uses. Now, you may be asking what have i done? Ohh, like i said it was funny. In states like Texas, Nevada and Tennessee their were nearly no people, who got powers because everyone went to a big, famous city like new York or washington...Well most people, but not all. I moved from California to Tennessee so that i could to, what i wanted. And what i wanted, was what i got. And that, was a Kingdom. A Kingdom, that now consist of 15 states in the South-east of the former United States of America, Middle America and the North half ot south America.
And now, you may ask why everybody laugh at my. The answer is easy....Nobody knows that i am the King of one of the biggest Kingdom in the Worlds. A King with all the money he needs, absolute immunity for him and his troops and one who can build anything that he wants in seconds. They all think i am just a no body with the Ability to summon Elves. And for me, this is fine, because else it would be really, really boring.
(I apologies for all grammar and spelling errors in this Text.) | 2019-08-12T00:11:35 | 2019-08-12T00:08:14 | 40 | 11 |
[WP] Humans have always been the friendliest and the most peaceful species in the galaxy. When one of the most ruthless empires decides to wipe out the pathetic humans and their diplomacy, they discover that humans have something that no one in the galaxy has ever seen. Nuclear weapons. | Famine, Pestilence, Death, War. The four horsemen of the apocalypse. Supreme beings of havoc, and an idea that humans (once achieving a galactic level) quickly found spread across the worlds. Famine, The Rektinkin. Pestilience, The Kratar. Death, The An'ihum. And War, The Humans.
When Humans entered the galactic scene, they ruptured a delicate balance that was in place. They destroyed the stalemate that stopped the 3 major powers from war. As every race set their sights on the prey, intent of claiming them as their own, gaining the advantage, the humans seemed blissfully unaware that their attempts at peaceful communication showed the universe one thing: they embody peace, and have suffered nothing. A far contrast to the three powers.
The Rektinkin, born on an unforgiving planet that punished every mistake with death. Resources scarce, the reptile-like species embraced the Famine, and learned the power of oneself. They birthed great warriors that took all the resources, instead of splitting them amongst many people. As such, the species was able of rivaling entire army's of other species alone. However the birth rate of these creatures were abysmal, and as such couldn't triumph in all out war against the other two. When they saw the Humans and their home Planet of earth, rich in resources, they saw their chance. How many more warriors could they birth with Earths help? And so they waged war on the seemingly helpless species. The humans had no idea of scarcity, so they had nothing to embrace! How could such species pose a threat?
Similarly, The Kratar lived in a world of nature, where they could never triumph over the destruction of the Great Green. They suffered from being nothing but weak prey. Intelligence? Mattered not, that was for those at the bottom of the food chain. So the Kratar embraced the plague of ever-present green. They were the ambassadors of the Great Green, and as such, were gifted the ability to fully control the power source of life, the Kratar's very own star. With this power, they spread the Great Greens power and influence. They controlled the most planets, able to terraform them for the Great Green, but never once thought to enslave nature, as they had not the power over the Green to be able to claim authority. So when they saw the Humans, they saw a weak species (much like them in the past) however one who had used Intelligence to triumph over their sacred grounds. Blasphamy. How dare a species as useless as humans have the audacity to attempt to control the Great Green? The Katar saw both the potential of triumph over their greatest weapon, and a weak species who had yet to fully understand it. Should they learn their potential, the Great Green would be destroyed by such a weak species, one who had no hardships, who had embraced nothing! The Kratar could not have it, and as such, declared war on the humans.
At the same time, The An'ihum suffered from the inevitable. Death. Their species had an incredibly short life span. Nothing could ever be done, and nothing was ever being done. The An'ihum each had their own needs, and had once sought a fulfilling life doing what they wanted. The neighboring species on the same planet all pushed the An'ihum away easily. The An'ihum where all so singularly focuses on themselves, and their short life spans that the species never evolved. They cursed their life spans as the An'ihum population got smaller and smaller. It was in a moment of true desperation that the An'ihum changed. Every new birth was done to perform one duty, then embrace death. With their incredible reproduction ability, the An'ihum held deaths hand as they brute forced their way to being the apex species on their planet. So when Humans, a relatively long-living species entered their sights, they saw knowledge. They saw what they wanted, the ability to extend their lives, as the humans had multiplied their expected life span. They also saw the threat this knowledged posed to them and the other speicies. They needed life! Only then could they truly embrace death. So they held no regards about declaring war on a species so intent on running away from death. They knew not the embrace of death, but they shall learn.
And the humans? They were different. Everybody assumed that they just had it easy, as that was why they so nice, so unwilling to spark conflict. But in reality they didn't embrace what they were best at, because they saw what embracing war truly meant. After building the ultimate weapon that made the very universe suffer, they learned that embracing war didn't mean strength. It meant complete and utter annihilation. They didn't embrace war, they surpassed it. And as the hostile species watched the very universe reject their existence, they realised that simple truth.
First time posting here.
Also on mobile, sorry for bad formating. | Part 1:
Commander Turnall was gazing at the bright blue planet from the comfort of his cabin on the 17th Gunner Launcher of the Emios Empire. The windows of his cabin were designed specifically to give the room a wide 270 degree view. He looked at all the forces of the advance force sent by the Imperial Council. All 180 ships, with 400 destroyers, 80 sharpshooters, 150 gunners, 50 starshields, 18 Gunner Launchers and around 120,000 personnel.
Turnall was delighted when he was informed that he was ordered to command the advance force to the Soleus System, the native star system of the Humans. Turnall, who was partly human himself, loathed the Human race for their amiability and gentleness. The EMIOS had started long ago in Alixir III when the King of the Eliali, Aedealaus declared himself Emperor after subjugating all the surrounding systems after a long war of domination on all fronts. The Eliali, who still hold heavy political sway in the House of the Senate and the Imperial Council regard him as a demi-god and a legend, however rational men including Commander Turnall himself knew that he was not a holy figure but an opportunist who cunningly outwitted his opponents and attacked them when they were at their weakest.
Turnall was given orders to surround the planet in a semi-circular formation and wait them out of submission, his orders were to block any supplies that could be sent from the Colonies on the Mars and the satellites of Jupiter and Saturn. The Humans despite being weak were proud of their Independence and traded with all nations and empires. The marijuana trade was highly profitable and booming, and the humans exported a wide range of elements. They even traded with the Matjl Empire, the most formidable of the rivals of the EMIOS.
Turnall did not like the mission of subjugating the Humans without force. He hated them. *He wanted them destroyed.* Of all things he hated*,* the thing he hated the most was that blue planet of theirs. The Emios called it Gaia 0 and is one of the most habitable places in the universe. Everything about it was perfect. Planet Placement, Size, Atmosphere, Gravitational Force and Abundance of Habitable Space and Stability. Many planets younger than Gaia 0 and Gaia-like planets which were promised to succeed it were outlived by Gaia 0.
Turnall sat and observed the meek satellites and defense systems of the Humans. The Humans were smart. Despite being the bright beacons of peace, love and happiness, they never stopped spending money on defense, but it was of no use now. They were indicted in the Supreme Council for crimes of negative resource-exploitation and slavery. Crimes that were framed upon them by the Secret Agency to facilitate the annexation of the United Nations into the EMIOS. They had always been part of the EMIOS association but were never truly part of the EMIOS proper. The aim was to bring them into the Imperial Fold, Turnall did not want this. He had made up his mind to destroy the Gaia, no matter the loss of life. The Humans will be shattered and the other minor republics of the association and liege states will be frightened. The embargo placed on the Matjl and Kin will be solidified and Turnall will be regarded as a hero. He thirsted for glory and wanted redemption for his failures during the Hock Skirmishes. His promotion was due and his pride as well.
He paced back and forth in wait of the Human Diplomats. When they arrived he couldn't hide his smile. He was searching for some pretext to invade the planet. He had thought over a hundred plans with his most loyal followers and decided that he would have some of his ships destroyed by his own guns. Some of his captains strongly opposed friendly fire, however a compromise was reached and it was decided the selected ships would be left completely vacant. He had to act quickly though, he had heard of news of reinforcements from the Outer Zone were heading towards Gaia and would arrive in 10 Gaia Days, 8 if they made haste.
The Diplomats arrived with a Ranskar guard on both flanks. They greeted him cordially without showing signs of dread. Turnall found it funny. *Your entire existence will be soon wiped, and you will be forgotten. Just like the Manes, the Ibers, the Nam or the Raqqa.*
Turnall advised them to seat and called for the interpretation team. One of the Diplomats blurted out, "Commander Turnall, you do know English, don't you?"
Turnall looked at them with shock. Yes, of course he did. It was his mother tongue. Turnall hated the language and considered it inferior. He tried forgetting the language by learning Lyal and Soran and avoiding it. However, he still dreamed in English, something he couldn't get rid of.
Turnall feigned ignorance, "No. No Cannot. Understand for me, not much".
The Diplomat smiled and nodded.
When the interpreters arrived the negotiations began. The Diplomats denied the allegations and asked to file a motion of reconsideration. They asked for talks between the Imperial Council and the United Nations, and withdrawal of forces. They agreed to cede their Outer Colonies to retain their independence. They asked for a new treaty and were willing to be reassigned as a protectorate. They even tried handing over the Imperial Association their trade control and foreign affairs. Anything, for retaining their independence.
However Turnall and the committee of senators of the House refused all their pleadings. They told that for violating intergalactic law they had to be annexed by the Supreme Council and nothing else. They told them that this was to merely be a transitional occupation and nothing else and their sovereignty would be handed back after a five-year term.
The Humans knew that this was false, the Supreme Council's biggest funder was EMIOS and since the last thirty years a puppet of the Emios Empire. They were literally paid by EMIOS to strike some decisions against them just to pretend impartiality.
The Diplomats were tired and they stood up. The Head of the Human Negotiators Han Xuhan addressed them.
"I am deeply saddened by the failure of our talks. We tried our best to ensure peace but you only talk of war and domination. We therefore will have to be forced to declare war on you. You have trespassed on our sovereignty, and we will fight to protect it."
Turnall couldn't believe his ears, "Declare war?". He was on seventh heaven. They had made his work easier. He will open fire on the first shot. Turnall will have his name etched in history, there will be medals. They will build statues and name institutions in his honor.
When the diplomats left Turnall ordered a meeting of his lieutenants, he advised them to get in a formation so that the sacrificial ships would be closest from the surface. He also told him that the statement might also be a ruse of the diplomats to bide for time and keep them waiting for supposed aggression. He told them that if the ships are not hit soon, they will be forced to destroy it with their own guns. | 2020-02-07T15:29:11 | 2020-02-07T14:56:33 | 50 | 28 |
[WP] An alien race is gathering intelligence prior to an invasion of Earth. The plans have come to a stop after a report of something called a "drinking contest", in which humans compete to determine which one can ingest the most of a poisonous liquid called alcohol before losing consciousness. | They poison *themselves*?
Yes.
Deliberately?
Yes.
Not by accident?
No.
You're sure?
I *saw* them doing it. They were *very* deliberate.
Why do they do it?
*Why* do they do it?
Yes.
It's a recreational contest. They do it for fun.
For *fun*?
Yes.
They poison themselves - deliberately - for fun?
Yes.
And whoever suffers the greatest amount of poisoning... wins?
No. Whoever suffers the greatest amount of poisoning while remaining conscious wins. And they don't consider it "suffering".
Because they consider it fun.
Yes.
Did you obtain a sample for analysis?
Yes, here. This one is called "Amaretto". Notice the cyanide smell?
They ingest cyanide too?
I don't know. I wasn't down there long enough to find out. Running a scan now.
Hmm. Alcohol. Combustible organic compound. Naturally occurring, but never in concentrations this high.
They have varieties far more potent than this. For safety reasons I decided on one with a weaker strength.
I see. According to this, it causes widespread disruption of the nervous system. Equilibrium, fine motor control and higher brain functions are all compromised.
Severely compromised.
They genuinely *like* doing this to themselves?
Yes. The body eventually purges the poison via metabolism in the bloodstream, or involuntary expulsion. Their concern for the effects on their personal long-term physical and mental condition is negligible.
All of them?
Not all. A percentage of their total population chooses not to, for cultural reasons.
Okay, so we only launch invasions on *those* population centres, and we should be safe.
Unfortunately, no. The ones who don't ingest that psychoactive compound usually ingest *this* psychoactive compound instead. And there's a heavy overlap between use; they'll often consume both simultaneously to enhance their effect.
What do they call *that* one?
A "Pumpkin Spice Latte".
...
...
The sweetener is carcinogenic, and the cinnamon can cause allergic reactions.
...
...
You know what? I've changed my mind.
What?
Fuck it. Invasion's off. Let's get out of here. | A gray humanoid alien with a fancy coat and medals from numerous galactic conquest steps in unnoticed by the two slightly smaller and squeamish data analyst
“Boli, we can’t present him to the general like this” one of the analysts says while frantically scrolling through a patients vitals.
Boli: *frantically searching through records of scattered human data* “I FUCKING KNOW JOLI OKAY......”
Joli: *sweating bullets* “can we just say captain Xolo died from the human activity?”
Boli: “NO NO NO NO, that’s not true, the general knows it...... and saying that could botch the entire invasion”
Joli: *shouting sporadically* “YOU STILL THINK WE’RE GOING TO INVADE?!?!”
General Galga: *speaking calm and collectively* “any particular reason why we wouldn’t?”
Both Boli and Joli freeze up before turning around noticing the general behind them. After a few brief moments general Galgas amusement and curiosity slowly faded
General Galga: *in a stern tone* “well speak up, why should we not invade earth? And why are you trying to hiding captain Xolo from me?”
Joli: *nervously sweating* “um..... general.... Xolo is..... being rather.... uncooperative.”
The general barges in to captain Xolos quarters without hesitation
“WAKE UP CAPTAIN, DATA REPORT NOW!!!” General Galga shouts while facing Xolo.
Xolo: *drunk af* “oh... hey general” *giggles bit before almost falling over an alien trash can*
General Galga: *confused* “um.... captain you didn’t salute...... you know I don’t actually care but that’s out of character for you.... everything alright? How did your infiltration of the human ‘contest’ go ?”
Xolo: *crying sporadically* “OH NOOOOO GENERAL IM SO SORRY I FORGOT TO SALUTE” *cries before almost passing out at her feet*
General Galga: *super confused* “JOLI! BOLI! GET YOUR DATA ANALYZING ASSES IN HERE!”
Joli and Boli slowly come in single file as Xolo is crying now the corner
Xolo: *sobbing uncontrollably* “I....I... I just want to be a.... a good captain and contribute to the..... the.... the thing” *tries to stand up but falls back down*
Joli: *looking at Xolo* “the thing? Captain? What thing?”
Xolo: *leaning against an alien desk with some alien papers* “the.... the .... the thing thing, you know the t......” Xolo cuts himself off as he throws up in the alien trash can an tries to catch his breath for a moment
General Galga: *staring daggers at Joli and Boli* “what happened down there”
Joli: *super duper nervous* “the captain volunteered to go partake in the ‘contest’ and when he came back he was.... different. Also he had this shirt on him when he came back...” *Jodi hands her a white t-shirt with writing on the back*
General Galga: *inspecting the writing* “.... what’s a ‘Florida State University,?”
Boli: “we don’t know general”
Xolo: *barely able to stand* “General!”
General Galga: “what is it Xolo?”
Xolo: *staggering over to the general before almost tripping and being held up by Joli* “I drank the drank and I, I..... I love you”
General Galga: *shocked* “Captain this is highly ireg...” she is cut off by Xolo.
Xolo: *huging Joli* “I love you, and Joli and Boli and all.... all of you work so hard it just makes me want to cry” *starts actually sobbing again*
General Galga: *stars blankly* “okay we’re not invading earth anymore”
Joli: “wait so then what are we doing?”
General Galga: “not dealing with this, that’s for sure” *walks out of the room*
Captain Xolo: *putting on alien sunglasses even though the spacecraft is dimly lit* “well that worked out better than expected” *passes out* | 2020-11-21T22:36:27 | 2020-11-21T20:22:29 | 80 | 55 |
[WP] Turns out, Earth is actually unique in the fact that nearly all of it's natural features, like quicksand, and processes, like earthquakes, can kill you. Most other planets dont do that. So when aliens invade, 90% of the fighting is done by Earth. | "Sir, we have to land, now!" Sathrian yelled a the top of his lungs.
I stirred from my sleep. "Is it time for the assault already? Red group shouldn't arrive for another three days."
"Sir, we're being *battered*, our shields are low on power!"
"They found us?!" I shouted, leaping from my bed.
"No, sir, our invisibility camouflage is perfect- it's a storm."
"The hell is a storm?" I growled, prowling towards the main deck, still in my pajamas.
"It seems that when this planet goes through its water cycle, it's a very intense process, sir." Sathrian said as he tailed behind me.
I reached the bridge and looked out at the planet we were supposed to be dominating- and a bright flash of light immediately blinded me. "What the hell?!" I roared.
"Electronic discharge of some kind, we're trying to figure it out now! That's the third one this hour."
I rubbed my eyes. "Damn. Okay, so the climate is a bit hostile here, then. How do the locals function with it?"
"They hide." Sathrian said, his voice sombre.
"They just hide?! How long do these extreme cycles last?"
"Can go on for several standard days, it seems. We haven't finished analyzing their patterns yet- the computer is already overheated."
"Damn. We need to settle down somewhere with cover. Can we fly without being noticed?"
"Well- all the humans are indoors, we should be alright..." My Helmsman said. "What's our heading?"
"I'll leave it to you, Helmsman."
"Affirmative. Energy to reverse thrusters, disengage the barionic lock."
We scoured the local area for a few minutes, the wind, rain, and flashes of light hindering us from our goal.
"Settle in that small canyon." I suggested.
"Affirmative." The ship lowered.
"We need to ensure we're covered from their cameras and any stray prying eyes. Scouting party, on me!" I called, heading towards the armory.
Twelve of our finest joined me, each of us changing into our anthropomorphic bodysuits that could protect us as well as mimic the appearance of whatever we chose- if we ran into any humans, we were sure to be safe about it.
"Check for nearby trails, foot traffic, nature cameras, anything that could expose our presence." I ordered, and each of us split off through the different compass points.
My group and I- despite the dim lighting- saw a vehicle of some kind approach, and a group of humans got out. They were heading right for us.
"Why would there be humans out in the storm?" I asked, shifting my appearance to roughly match theirs.
We made our first contact.
"Howdy!" They called out to us.
"Howdy." I mimicked.
"You guys storm-chasers too?" They asked.
"Uh- no, we just kind of got...caught in it. Sorry, you're a storm *chaser*?" I asked.
"Yeah! There's nothing more fun than getting right in the thick of a good storm!"
"R-right. Well, enjoy." I said, then pretended to walk back the way the storm-chasers had come from.
"Scouts, reassemble." I spoke into my suit's interface. "The humans *enjoy* this kind of weather. I don't think we stand a chance at winning- even if we get Red group to reinforce us. Reassemble, and we're gonna get the hell out of here."
--------------------------
Author's note: I don't do sci-fi very often, let me know if it's any good lol
r/nystorm_writes | Slogging through the mud and rain of a terrestrial hellscape even more miserable than the last, Lieutenant Calrus Taldan longed desperately for the carefully managed rainstorms of home. On a civilized world each drop landed precisely where it was meant to, running down the gently terraformed hills *just so*.
‘Climate’ was an anachronism, and worse than that it was unseemly. A gentleman expected better of life, particularly when his commission had cost so dearly.
The rank and file seemed discouraged by it as well, insofar as a man of Taldan’s breeding concerned himself with such things. He’d heard their mutterings in camp for days now as they slogged through this godsforsaken jungle in search of another band of insurrectionaries. One particularly blighted fellow who was suffering from a condition the doctors were now referring to as ‘jungle rot’ had wondered aloud whether a being could drown standing up in rain such as this.
Taldan had taken the disciplinary rod to the man for his crimes against morale but the damage was done. He could barely stand to look at the sky in the days since then.
“Lifeforms ahead!” the call came from the vanguard, passed down the line in the series of encoded clicks that only the harshly curved beaks of the Tal-Dari could produce.
The company exploded into action, Captain Taldos calling their formation as 1st platoon powered up their personal shields and the shrill wine of their vibra-lances filled the air. Taldan could see the endless rain vaporizing around the lancers into a dense bank of fog as his 3rd platoon formed ranks for action, a firing line 40 men long that bristled with the points of their rifles.
Up ahead Taldan could hear the shouts of the humans they chased. Humans who should have realized by now that the war was long lost but who instead had fought on after their capitals fell, pulling back into terrain that Headquarters had once thought uninhabitable.
“Forward, MARCH!” the captain cried, the single mighty caw erupting from his beak. As one the lancers unfurled the great expanse of their wings, hurling themselves into the sky, breaking through the canopy with raw power as they sought their position. They would be the hammer, striking the humans from the rear against the great anvil of the massed infantry.
Infantry whose position became more tenuous with every step, driven farther and farther out of formation by the great boles of the densely packed trees. “Close ranks damn you!” Taldan screamed ineffectually at his troops. On his right flank he could see the line faltering, here and there a private sinking nearly to his tail-feathers in this awful, sucking muck.
Up ahead the humans darted from tree to tree, their primitive gunfire pinging off his men’s armor as the dreaded claw of the Tal-Dari Empire came for them, even here in this far off, meaningless speck of land.
“Company, HALT!” the Captain called. 2nd and 3rd platoons formed a long double file in the jungle, the first kneeling, second standing. As he looked up and down their ranks Lt. Taldan felt the first stirrings of the martial pride all the songs had spoken of.
“Present, ARMS!” Eighty rifle barrels, minus the few who had succumbed to the mud, crossed armored chests embossed with the crossed wing emblem and then pointed forward, a specter of death from another age come down on these primitive apes.
“FIRE!” the report of the laser rifles was incongruously silent to the shrieked command, but explosion of their strikes was deafening. Where the forward elements of the human force had once been the forest was now a tinderbox beyond anything the rain could extinguish, gouts of fire erupting from falling trees as animals scurried madly for cover. It was glorious, and as his men reloaded their rifles Taldan laughed with wild abandon.
He laughed through the second volley as well, and wouldn’t have even stopped in the third if it hadn’t happened. They all saw them through the portions of the jungle whose canopy had been cleared by their rifle fire, the proud members of 1st platoon hanging high in the air like avenging angels, every line in their bodies tensed as they waited for the order to charge.
The very sky itself opened up on them, and Taldan realized this world’s storms held dangers far greater than drowning.
The force that hit them, that Taldan would later learn the humans called “lightning,” tore through their close packed ranks like a cannon blast, overwhelming the thin shimmer of their personal shields and exploding the very lances in their hands. Most never even made a sound as they died, and only the very strongest found any glory in it, surging upwards on convulsing wings before falling to the ground in charred heaps.
The humans’ exultant cries echoed through the jungle as they retreated, the Tal-Dari pursuit long forgotten as their senior officers gathered around the fallen remains of 1st platoon, too horrified even to say the Rites over their dead.
It was only later in the day when Taldan discovered what had happened to the men they had left behind in the disaster of their march on the enemy. Word filtered in from the support platoon that some had been sucked fully into the earth itself, drowning in mud. It had taken a long time for that word to sink in. ***Mud***.
The camp that night was silent, and as he made his bed under the unfamiliar stars of a world far from home, young Lt. Taldan had begun to know something more about the horrors of war.
\------------
If you enjoyed that I've got more at [r/TurningtoWords](https://www.reddit.com/r/TurningtoWords/). I'm currently working on a serial about three teens running into a hivemind and there's other standalones like an AI trying her best to be a cute little girl. Come check it out, I'd love to have you! | 2021-02-01T12:26:07 | 2021-02-01T12:07:30 | 922 | 396 |
[WP] "I raise undead children" "You what?!" "You misunderstand I don't raise them from the dead, irresponsible young necromancers do that. I'm the one who takes care of them after they realize the handful." "Would you like to meet them? I must warn you, they do bite."
[deleted] | Linda nervously raised her fist to the dilapidated door, knocking softly. She waited thirty seconds, and with a sigh of relief, turned around. 𝘕𝘰 𝘰𝘯𝘦'𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦, 𝘮𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘢 𝘧𝘢𝘭𝘴𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘢𝘳𝘮. Her relief was short lived, though, as moments later a woman's voice rang out from the yard.
"Can I help you?" "Oh yes.. um I'm Linda, I'm with the government. There has been reports of undead at this address." Linda got her first look at the woman, and jumped back in shock. She was tall, skinny and was missing an eye, an arm, and had light green skin. "That's a normal reaction," said the woman chuckling dryly. "You can call me.. Sarah. I am undead as you have clearly noticed, however we really prefer 'living differently'. I raise forgotten children of my own kind."
"Well ma'am, may I speak with you inside?" "I'm afraid not," Sarah said, moving aside so Linda could see the gaggle of children behind her. "We are on our way to the beach, for our once a month beach day. The children really do look forward to it. You are welcome to join, of course." Linda swallowed nervously, eyeing the nearest child, a girl of about ten. She had short ratty brown hair and blue lips, as well as blue tinted skin. "Um.. why not?" Linda fell into step with Sarah, and off they went.
* * *
"Why is she avoiding the water like that?"
Linda was staring at the girl with the blue skin. She would look into the waves as if mesmerized, and then jump back like the water burned her. "It's really quite sad," Sarah started from under her giant black umbrella. "Kate drowned here about 50 years ago. She would wade in to look for sea creatures, and no one noticed when she disappeared." Linda's stomach twisted and a wave of nausea spread through her. "That's terrible! Why would you bring her here?" Sarah shifted, as if uncomfortable. "She asks to come here. Kate used to come here with her family, and I guess she wants that reminder of her past life."
"I have to go." Linda jumped up and took off, struggling through the sand. "Wait! Are we in any danger?" Sarah called out. "... No. The house was empty. Just someone... With an overactive imagination." The two women smiled at each other, knowing they had reached an unspoken understanding. | "Oh, I know exactly what you mean," says the tall, dark man - his hair so red that it looks black. "That's the trouble, Once they're dead, when they're raised they have no spirit or soul. They're no longer human."
The elder necromancer raises an eyebrow - two or three of the nine younger assistants behind him shuffling nervously from foot to foot. They know the truth. So does the elder.
"It's why I delayed my departure after all those years of sleep. I'll have to sleep again, but I can't leave this..." He looks beyond the elder to the nine. One has his hand on the hilt of his sword. He knows, They know. ",,,menace."
Saint Steward, the elder necromancer, smiles. "There are ten of us and but one of you." SLAAAAAAAAAAAAASH...faster than the eye can follow he draws his blade - thin, jagged, black edges glistening with a darkness that lags behind its motion - slices the visitor across the throat. As he falls, Saint Steward continues. "And you have no weapon."
The young assistant removes his hand from the sword hilt.
"I need no weapon." The visitor's voice comes from behind the nine assistants. The elder turns as they all turn. "I am a weapon."
The nine draw, swords - black like Saint Steward's but with perhaps a little lesser flowing darkness - slice at the visitor, but he blocks with his arms, now covered in dark red armor scales.
The elder eyes the body he had just slashed, killed. It's melting into a dusty soup. He grasps the dark crystal held by a chain around his neck, He chants something under his breath.
The visitor blocks, swords break. One skull is bashed off its shoulders, the body crumpling to the ground. A sword is driven through a chest as the arm holding the sword snaps. A tall assistant sees his chance, slashes down to split the visitor's skull in two. But the visitor catches the blade in his hand, pulls the sword away from its wielder. He falls forward, off balance before he loses his grip. The visitor drives the sword, hilt first, through the assistant's chest.
"Enough!" shouts Saint Steward. The remaining six assistants fall back behind the elder. He still clutches his crystal.
"Whatever trickery you use, it won't help your cause." But the visitor doesn't wait for the elder to finish. He grabs and flings on of the fallen bodies at the six who duck, but one not quickly enough. He falls under the weight of the body - he's knocked out, perhaps dead.
The undead children watch from the upper stories. They lick their lips at the prospect of...disposing...of those bodies.
"Dispatch him," the elder whispers as a dark mist rises from the ground between him and the visitor. The mist swirls and surges forward, taking the shape of something big, winged as it lunges at the visitor. He backs away until the door to the dank building lets him go no further.
Saint Steward chuckles. "Your only gaining seconds."
As the misty, winged shape crosses the remaining distance, the visitor breathes in - preparing for death. He breathes out as the mist reaches him - a sandy tumult erupts from his mouth. It breaks the mist, dispersing it, continuing to the elder and his nine assistants - three formerly dead, two headless, not standing with the rest.
Darkness surrounds Saint Steward, and lesser darkness surrounds the remaining six living assistants. The sand storm envelopes the group. The dead three dissolve at once. The other six scream as their black cocoons shrink - at last the sand reaches them, grinds the flesh off them. Bodies fall.
At last the visitor closes his mouth - his breath and the sand storm finished.
Saint Steward emerges from his dark cocoon. He glances at the fallen nine. "They'll just rejoin me again..."
The visitor breathes - this time blue flame erupts from his mouth. Saint Steward can't get his black cocoon around himself fast enough - the flames devour him.
Necromancers in this word are resilient, masters of death, and in a twisted way, life. Saint Steward's body is smouldering on the ground. But a dark cocoon melts away from his now disembodied head. It stares up at the visitor who approaches. He crushes the skull with a mighty stomp. Now Saint Steward is dead.
"If you're going to fight, fight, don't..."
The visitor whirls at the sound of the door opening. As the first undead child's foot crosses the threshold, the visitor breathes again - red flames explode from his mouth, erupt through the door, rush over the threshold, through the open doorway.
Moments later a terrible fire rages in the stone building, once Saint Steward's home for undead children, now a stone oven cooking and destroying the abominations inside. The visitor will wait for the fires to subside, and then he will check to ensure all the undead children are destroyed, This task has cost him his return home - eight more years of sleep, perhaps more if there are surprises inside. He might as well make sure the job is finished. | 2021-02-20T18:07:08 | 2021-02-20T17:18:57 | 43 | 27 |
[WP] Elves are intelligent, subtle, and ambitious—a perfect fit for the world of high finance where they work in skyscrapers, make gobs of gold, and regard the blue collar dwarves with contempt. Grorric Blackfury is an oddity, and is feared for it. He’s the Dwarf of Wall Street. | Dwarf of Wallstreet
“Reticulate spidersilk futures dipped today by more than 4%...” Grorric Blackfury smiled. He licked his lips and pinched out the fire on the broadcast candle, silencing the news.
“Is that supposed to impress me?” asked Lorin Feathermoon.
“Nay. It’s supposed to intimidate you.” spat back the dwarf through his meticulously braided red beard. Blackfury put a half full pint to his lips but an empty flagon back on the table. “Did it work?” he asked with a grin.
“Why would it. I don’t trade in Spidersilk.” replied Feathermoon, rolling her resplendent eyes.
“Aye. Neither did I, till this morning.” Blackfury dropped a gold coin in the slot on the table, and the Rune of Refreshment under his mug refilled it from the bottom with a woosh and sparkle.
Feathermoon sneered. “Sounds like you lost some gold then friend.”
“Oh nay.” said Blackfury, waiting for Feathermoon to drink. “I shorted it.”
The normally composed elf snorted, blowing a thousands gold worth of Dragonfire Whiskey painful out of his slender nose.
“How could you have known?” asked Feathermoon, wiping the slurry dripping from his nose.
“Oh aye. I didn’t. I made it dip.” smiled Blackfury. “The vaults of Irae Mountain opened up before the open of the markets. We’re giving it away at a 30% loss over market price to the Goblins.”
Blackfury put his stout legs and fine Ætherial Skin Shoes on the table, lighting up his pipeweed.
“What was it you traded in again, Feathermoon? Lunar Sapphires and Owlbear Beaks, right?” asked Blackfury knowingly, sliding a piece of parchment across the table.
Feathermoon inspected it, recognizing it as an officially notarized inventory count from the Irae Mountain Dwarves; circled were the quantities of three or four items, all of which caused a pit to grow in the elves stomach.
“So...” asked Blackfury, slamming his hands on the table. The light glimmered off the dozens of Diamond rings which covered the dwarf’s fingers. “What do you think about my proposal now?”
Feathermoon gulped. “Alright Diamond Hands, let’s talk about my parcels...” | The formation of the Republic of American Peoples was inevitable. The Redwood elves had basic rights that were similar to the Colonial humans and Southern dwarves. Friend groups and families were already mixed at the borders. Businesses had been trading with one another for a century already. But there were old families who did not approve of the new republic. Powerful families who remembered their histories and kept their grudges locked away…
Grorric Blackfury was an orphan dwarf, adopted by a family of wood elves. He was raised climbing trees, not digging holes. As a dwarfling, he perched himself in the treetops of Central Park, hoping to eavesdrop on unsuspecting victims. He learned from a young age that most people had two sides: the one they wanted you to see and the one they kept private.
By his teenage years, Grorric and his best friend, Aarden of the High Line, learned how to traverse through the massive tree highway in Lower Manhattan. There were entire elvish neighborhoods that never showed up on maps. The homes in these parts weren’t the same as the lavish ones he’d seen in the Upper East Side. The decadence in front of him was next level. Fences made of diamond.
“Old money,” said Aarden. “The guy who owns this house also owns Goldelves Bags! They call him the boss of bosses on Wall Street. Dad said he made his fortune investing in mining companies. More cash than you can hold in a forest.”
Grorric took a step closer to the fence. “I’m going to be rich like this guy.” It came out as a whisper, and the moment was gone. He had to look away; the reflection of the fence hurt his eyes.
(Three years later…)
Aarden let a call from Grorric go to voicemail. He was in an investor meeting and about to present his case for Downwood Mining Co. He unmuted his phone and began:
“Profits for Downwood are up 150% this quarter, marking a steady increase six quarters in a row. They are the fastest growing mining company in the Mexican Gulf Alliance. Incredible cash flow, they’re going to ramp up their investment in the money market in the next year, and they’re also seeking to acquire Baja Mining and Cenote Mining Co. after that…”
Working for Wall Street came naturally to Aarden. Companies in the Gulf Alliance were killing it. His boss gave him thick packets filled with their financial data and all he had to do was get them listed on the New York Stonk Exchange. Investor money poured in like a firehose. His only wish was that Grorric was along for the ride.
Grorric never landed a job on Wall Street. “You might be better suited for maintenance work,” they said. “Are you willing to pick up human feces?,” asked one interviewer at the Bank of New York. Frustrated, he decided to go where the money was: the mining industry in the Mexican Gulf Alliance. But the dwarves treated him poorly there, too. He talked like an outsider, dressed like an outsider, smelled like an outsider.
(Three months later…)
Dressed in his patrol uniform, Grorric sat in his guard station drawing trees in a notebook. Aarden was on speakerphone. Downwood Mining Co. offered Grorric a job as a security guard. Determined to work his way up, he accepted, but found there was no work. He guarded a small office building and there were only three dwarves that went in and out.
Aarden was taken aback. This was the same Downwood Mining Co. he had pitched months ago.
“Empty?? No it can’t be empty.” Perhaps Grorric is suffering a mental episode, thought Aarden. “Last quarter they should have pulled out $500M in rare earth metals. There should be cranes and trucks, lots of cranes and trucks. Thousands of workers!”
Grorric shrugged. “Not sure what to tell you, buddy. I’m telling you there’s no way these guys are pulling in that kind of dough. Your numbers are wrong.”
(One year later…)
Aarden sat in his living room, fixated on the new anchor on TV.
“We start tonight with a story of justice... After releasing his scathing report about the plot between Goldelves Bags and Downwood Mining Co. to defraud the American Peoples, Grorric Blackfury was found dead today. He fell out of a tree.”
The camera cut to an older elf lady, dressed in a fine burgundy suit. “What a tragedy. Grorric was a hero and he will be remembered. We at Goldelves Bags have seen the error in our ways. We have paid the $1M fine by the SEC. We promise to never work with international criminals again and as a gesture of good will, we are erecting a statue here in front of our building in Grorric’s honor. The Dwarf of Wall Street. May we never forget him.” | 2021-02-25T11:54:57 | 2021-02-25T11:39:21 | 37 | 17 |
[WP] Elves are intelligent, subtle, and ambitious—a perfect fit for the world of high finance where they work in skyscrapers, make gobs of gold, and regard the blue collar dwarves with contempt. Grorric Blackfury is an oddity, and is feared for it. He’s the Dwarf of Wall Street. | "Dae fundamentas are *strong*". Grorric Blackfury stared ahead with great intensity, his beard obscuring any sort of facial movements, gnarled hands twirling a gnomic spinner. Through his one eye, he belied a transcendent fury.
"Mr Blackfury we appreciate your concerns about Alabaster Inc, however on papyrus the underlying securities are of great concern to the Quelanor Council..." the Elven fool chipped on mindlessly for a few moments, seemingly unaware of his words uselessness. They were like the wind, constantly changing and of little substance or grounding. Grorric liked the rocken caverns and limestone interiors of the Dwarven holds.
But, his people needed him here. His was the first foray into the financial markets, and so by proxy he represented; for the first time, all Dwarven mining collectives. After a few moments he adjusted his eye patch, acquired from an unfortunate explosive incident in the Gnome Wars, and spat at the Elf, who recoiled. "Why of all the, the, fuck!"
"Dae fundamentas...are...strong." Grorric again repeated, more slowly. "Ah can see your objectives like a moleraat in the heat. Yer shortin Alabaster on account of the reductions in temple constructions." He pulled out his briefcase, deploying papers and mathematical charts. "However, the truth is nah so convinient for ye prissy folk. Inter-sect conflict is increasing, as are rates of adventuring partays. And, monster attacks have increased in the southern plains."
An elf blew tobacco smoke in Grorric's face, to no effect. His lungs were choked from years of work in the coal mines, and his time on the surface had been quite the reprieve. "Meaningless drivel, Alabaster is still in low demand. You will need to cave, and pull out for better ventures."
"We Dwarves have held on for longer than you can remember. The Dark Lord is clearly coming again from the Southron Front, and temples shale fall in his wake." He delivered this statement with a hint of delusional grandeur, smirking under his beard but shining with his eye. "And when tha day of Reckoning comes, the Alabaster will be needed to rebuild."
"So continue shorting all you want, but we Dwarves are holding, and will present the bill when it's due. Until then, pound sandstone." | The formation of the Republic of American Peoples was inevitable. The Redwood elves had basic rights that were similar to the Colonial humans and Southern dwarves. Friend groups and families were already mixed at the borders. Businesses had been trading with one another for a century already. But there were old families who did not approve of the new republic. Powerful families who remembered their histories and kept their grudges locked away…
Grorric Blackfury was an orphan dwarf, adopted by a family of wood elves. He was raised climbing trees, not digging holes. As a dwarfling, he perched himself in the treetops of Central Park, hoping to eavesdrop on unsuspecting victims. He learned from a young age that most people had two sides: the one they wanted you to see and the one they kept private.
By his teenage years, Grorric and his best friend, Aarden of the High Line, learned how to traverse through the massive tree highway in Lower Manhattan. There were entire elvish neighborhoods that never showed up on maps. The homes in these parts weren’t the same as the lavish ones he’d seen in the Upper East Side. The decadence in front of him was next level. Fences made of diamond.
“Old money,” said Aarden. “The guy who owns this house also owns Goldelves Bags! They call him the boss of bosses on Wall Street. Dad said he made his fortune investing in mining companies. More cash than you can hold in a forest.”
Grorric took a step closer to the fence. “I’m going to be rich like this guy.” It came out as a whisper, and the moment was gone. He had to look away; the reflection of the fence hurt his eyes.
(Three years later…)
Aarden let a call from Grorric go to voicemail. He was in an investor meeting and about to present his case for Downwood Mining Co. He unmuted his phone and began:
“Profits for Downwood are up 150% this quarter, marking a steady increase six quarters in a row. They are the fastest growing mining company in the Mexican Gulf Alliance. Incredible cash flow, they’re going to ramp up their investment in the money market in the next year, and they’re also seeking to acquire Baja Mining and Cenote Mining Co. after that…”
Working for Wall Street came naturally to Aarden. Companies in the Gulf Alliance were killing it. His boss gave him thick packets filled with their financial data and all he had to do was get them listed on the New York Stonk Exchange. Investor money poured in like a firehose. His only wish was that Grorric was along for the ride.
Grorric never landed a job on Wall Street. “You might be better suited for maintenance work,” they said. “Are you willing to pick up human feces?,” asked one interviewer at the Bank of New York. Frustrated, he decided to go where the money was: the mining industry in the Mexican Gulf Alliance. But the dwarves treated him poorly there, too. He talked like an outsider, dressed like an outsider, smelled like an outsider.
(Three months later…)
Dressed in his patrol uniform, Grorric sat in his guard station drawing trees in a notebook. Aarden was on speakerphone. Downwood Mining Co. offered Grorric a job as a security guard. Determined to work his way up, he accepted, but found there was no work. He guarded a small office building and there were only three dwarves that went in and out.
Aarden was taken aback. This was the same Downwood Mining Co. he had pitched months ago.
“Empty?? No it can’t be empty.” Perhaps Grorric is suffering a mental episode, thought Aarden. “Last quarter they should have pulled out $500M in rare earth metals. There should be cranes and trucks, lots of cranes and trucks. Thousands of workers!”
Grorric shrugged. “Not sure what to tell you, buddy. I’m telling you there’s no way these guys are pulling in that kind of dough. Your numbers are wrong.”
(One year later…)
Aarden sat in his living room, fixated on the new anchor on TV.
“We start tonight with a story of justice... After releasing his scathing report about the plot between Goldelves Bags and Downwood Mining Co. to defraud the American Peoples, Grorric Blackfury was found dead today. He fell out of a tree.”
The camera cut to an older elf lady, dressed in a fine burgundy suit. “What a tragedy. Grorric was a hero and he will be remembered. We at Goldelves Bags have seen the error in our ways. We have paid the $1M fine by the SEC. We promise to never work with international criminals again and as a gesture of good will, we are erecting a statue here in front of our building in Grorric’s honor. The Dwarf of Wall Street. May we never forget him.” | 2021-02-25T14:53:02 | 2021-02-25T11:39:21 | 26 | 17 |
[WP] Death stood outside an old woman's house. She warmly welcomed him inside, offered him cookies, and crocheted him gothic-themed sweaters. Apparently, the old woman mistook him for her grandson who is going through a gothic / emo phase. | The tune was familiar, one of the few things that still were. “I’m coming!”
The doorbell’s last echo stopped just as she got to the door and began fumbling with the locks.
“Just a minute!”
She weakly swung the door open to reveal a cloaked figure standing in its wake. She squinted past her glasses in confusion. After a moment, “David? It’s been so long! Come in, come in! Frightfully chilly out there!” She hurriedly departed for the kitchen.
The figure slowly crossed - floated over? - the threshold as she hurriedly cleared the table, paying no mind.
“One moment dear. I just made some tea. English Breakfast, your father’s favorite! Now then. Where did I put my cups?” The figure merely stood by the now-closed door as the woman searched cupboard after cupboard before finding her quarry. “There we are!”
Within minutes, the table was set with pre-packaged cookies, snacks still in wrappers, and two steaming cups of fresh tea. “Sit, sit, dear. Tell me about your schooling!”
The figure complied with the order but spoke no words, touched no food, its face fully obscured in the shadow of an almost-too-narrow hood, its limbs nowhere to be seen. “You don’t have to say anything Davy, it’s ok. I’m just so very thankful for the company.”
They both sat in silence for several minutes as the nearby grandfather clock ticked and tocked.
The woman filled the silence soon enough. The figure listened as she regaled it with tales of her youth, of her husband, of her neighbors long gone. After what seemed like hours, the woman sighed. “I’m not stupid you know.”
The hood moved ever so slightly to the left, as a dog may cock its head.
“I may not remember many things these days but I know what you are.” A pause lingered as neither of them moved. Finally, she spoke once more.
“It’s time, isn’t it?”
The figure merely stood and faced the doorway.
“Very well. I’m ready. Thank you for making this lonely woman’s last day.”
She took a moment to stand, mindlessly smoothing the few creases in the white lace tablecloth first. Once she was up, the figure slowly crossed to the front door and motioned for the woman to cross the threshold first.
She shuffled toward the entrance and wrapped her shawl closer around her, deeply sighing before taking her first step outside. The light of the sun intensified until it was white, blinding, omnipresent, forcing her to cover her eyes with her arm. When she lowered it back down, the scene before her was different, yet familiar. The office building a few blocks away was gone. The cars parked outside were those of her youth. A familiar tune played on the record player behind her. She froze, then turned around sharply, her youthful strength momentarily surprising her.
The figure was gone. Her friends, her family, her neighbors from years ago were seated at the table beaming at her. Her husband, in the prime of his life as everyone in attendance, looked up and nearly dropped the turkey he was bringing toward the table.
“Mary!! You made it!” | There are two things that are inevitable in life.
Death, and the disappointment that comes after.
There is not much to offer, when all is said and done. There has to be a reason, after all, for the saying 'Live as if you are dying' to exist. When someone is meant to die, Death arrives. When Death has come, it's time to go.
But there is nowhere to go except the void. The eternal expanse of nothingness, something cold and foreboding, that not even the harshest of people could find solace in. Death knows this, understands this. It is why Death does not stray from its task, does not hesitate to take the souls that it must reap. Because Death, too, hates what comes after.
The lack of anything, the emptiness. It is a wretched place, truly, and yet Death fills it, gives each soul it's own home of hollowness, until finally the soul gives up and abandons itself, fragmenting into the universe and becoming one, together yet unaware of this companionship.
There is nothing in the void. There is no comfort, there is no companionship. There is only coldness and wistfulness, a wish that one was alive, back home. But Death has no home, and so Death works.
Perhaps this is why the misunderstanding strikes Death so cleanly.
Death was just meant to do their task. The soul inside was not young, certainly, but it was meant to leave the mortal plane that day. A heart attack, that is what it would be noted as. Rather soon, given that the lady the soul belonged to would be just past seventy, but she was simply out of time.
Death moved to enter the house, to fade through the door and take what they were meant to. Death has never much liked taking souls, taking them to that emptiness, but it is better than sitting in the emptiness themselves.
The door opened. Death had not even touched it, had yet to even reach the front porch.
The lady beamed.
"Damien!" She cried. "It's been so long!"
Death has no name, and if it did, it certainly would not be Damien.
Death thinks it had a name, once. All Death's have- they must come from somewhere, after all, some previous origin. But Death has been Death for long enough that its past is long dead, and they must accept the loss.
Still, Damien was not it.
"Oh, you've grown so much since I've last seen you. You sure have shot up in height, young man. Why, I remember when your mother first brought you around. You looked more like a sack of bread at the time-" *what does that even mean?* "but your eyes were so *clearly* your father's. Oh, come on in, Damien! I've just made cookies."
And then she was gone, departed back into the house, and Death could only watch.
Could only watch the soul that was supposed to be collected, but instead was calling for him to come inside, and to "shut the door behind you, dearie, or else you'll freeze us half to death!"
If Death had a sense of humor, they think they would have laughed.
But they didn't, not really. Humor had been lost just as their past had, and yet bewilderment had not. And perhaps that, too, is what helped the situation move onward, Death stupefied by the confusion, following the woman's orders as she bustled around, more energetic than Death would have expected as she gathered cookies and milk.
And knitting needles and yarn.
"You haven't visited in years," the lady said, once she had pushed the treats towards Death, once Death had obliged and picked one up. "But no matter. You are still my grandson, Damien. Now, let me get a good look at you."
Considering that the woman had confused his appearance for that of her grandson, Death worried that the woman could never get a 'good look' at him. Still, he remained still, letting her cast an appraising look at him before nodding.
"You're just like your father," the woman decreed. "Dear Nathan, bless his heart. He had a phase just like this, all dark and brooding. Why, he was your age when he first broke out the nail polish. Would you like some, dearie?"
Death glanced down at their hands, all bone, without flesh or nail to cover.
"I will be quite fine," they said, and the lady nodded.
"Of course! Times have changed, yes! Nail polish isn't as in style for you young gothics, now is it? That's quite alright. How does a sweater sound, Damien?"
Death does not know what is 'in style', nor what a sweater would do with the gothic scene. But Death was confounded, and they were rather intrigued, and so they nodded.
And somehow they found themselves there for the rest of the day, watching the old woman knit a sweater out of black and purple yarn, each stitch painstakingly done, filled with love and care.
And Death did not leave until the sun was setting, without the soul it came to collect, but with a sweater worn above their void-given garments.
It was warm.
It was warm, and the lady had been great company, and as Death wandered into the night, it could not help but wish to return.
Perhaps Damien could be a nice name, after all.
Much nicer than the silent cry of the void, at the very least...much nicer, indeed. | 2021-12-10T08:15:34 | 2021-12-10T06:57:04 | 256 | 128 |
[WP] Vampire society have been loyal customers to a carpenter for years. He made the best coffins they have slept in for centuries, and never really got suspicious of so many wealthy people willing to pay premium for the same niche item. As he got old, the vampires tries to offer him immortality. |
Thomas held out a steady gloved hand to Victoria as she exited the carriage to Wilkins Casket Company. "Such a shame if we were to lose this one, Thomas. I've never slept through whole days before."
"Yes, my darling. Men of his craft are difficult to find."
She gave him a glance. "If he accepts, we should not hesitate."
"No time to second guess." Thomas opened the rosen stained glass door for Victoria to enter. She glided into the foyer, removing her purple feathered hat to admire the low hanging chandelier, making sure to quickly pass by the mirror to her left.
Meanwhile, Thomas knocked on the double door to the office of Sir Gregory Wilkins. "Come in!" A voice responded.
Wilkins stood slowly, relying heavily on his cane. "Thomas, how are you this evening? Here to check up on the progress of your order, hm?"
"Indeed," Thomas mentioned for Victoria to step forward. "We prefer to be prepared. Victoria's aunt's condition has not improved."
"There is no need to worry, I have been slaving over the finishing touches all day." Wilkins winced, "Hence the sore knees. Please forgive me," the man replied, lowering himself to his padded chair. "Though," Wilkins folded his hands over his desk. "What was this aunt's name again, for my old mind to ensure the engraving is pristine."
Victoria glanced nervously at Thomas. "Ah, yes. M- Marline Davis. M-A-R-L-"
"You know, I did some digging," Wilkins paused to chuckle at his joke, "So to speak... and this Aunt Marline of yours passed 43 years ago." Thomas straightened. Victoria's mouth hung open as to respond.
"I had my suspicious. I mean, two family deaths soon after you moved into town."
"We can offer you immortality," Victoria blurted. "You provide cushion like no other. And no light bleeding, we don't even need to close the curtains-" Thomas cut her off.
"Your craftsmanship is superb. Preservation is clearly a top priority. In fact, we came here today to present to you the offer of immortality in exchange for comfort coffins and, of course, plenty of compensation."
Slowly opening his right hand desk drawer, Gregory Wilkins grabbed a straight razor and hobbled across the squeeking floors towards the couple.
Thomas held up his hands in surrender. "Sir Wilkins, we do not require a bloodletting in exchange for our offer. Your services have been and will be quite enough-"
Gregory held up the razor between two fingers and continued past them to the mirror across the hall. Wilkins looked past his reflection to witness clothed invisible figures. With a gasp, Victoria quickly covered her feathered hat over her face. Thomas stood straight as an arrow.
Wilkins pulled a towel from deep within his trouser pocket. He lent his cane against the wall, inhaling sharply as he straightened his back. "Now, now," his voice sounding more lively. Wilkins carefully took the razor to his cheek, peeling away layers of thick costume make up. Beneath the disguise was mirrored invisibility.
"My heavens," Victoria threw her hat into the air. Bewildered, both of them. "The whole time?"
Wilkins removed the entirety of his mask, revealing a middle aged man. He chuckled under his breath, "Gets them every time."
Wilkins walked briskly over to Thomas and Victoria, "You two never stopped to question why a casket was built with such comfort in mind?" The glanced at each other, trying to find words.
"Alister Wilkins Tannen, at your service. Now, shall we conclude our business here today." | The luxurious car rolled almost silent down the stone plastered road in the small middle European village. Kathrina was wondering to herself, how this village had not changed since the first time she visited it almost 1200 years ago. Sure some houses changed and things got added. But the spirit of it had stayed the same.
The darkened car windows kept the sun’s rays out, mainly the UV rays, she still marvelled at that discovery, humans had made not so far, and soon they would settle even other planets. Since the great wars almost 150 years ago they had invented blood clinics and the need to hunt had seized (well there was sport and sometimes just the necessary need for it, after all).
Kathrina enjoyed the luxurious seats no longer even made from dead animals and thought back to her first time visiting the town, she had come in a horse-drawn wooden cart locked and her back had hurt like, well hell, she snivelled to herself, and again she thought about times had changed. And then some few decades ago when visiting this town she had noticed this small carpenters store which had just opened up and had this beautiful masterpiece of its owner displayed in the window. For some reason, the young man had forgone traditional masterpieces and made a coffin.
Intrigued she had entered the small store and inquired about it. The young man had looked at her kind of sad and said it was for the one woman he loved, and that it kept business away, and he was about to close shop and go to work in a factory for a Swedish company, as he could no longer afford the store without business.
Kathrina had listened to him, only with half an ear and admiring the coffin the whole time. She looked at him and asked him just how much for one. The carpenter looked at her and asked her why she would need a coffin. She had looked back at him expressionless taken aback by someone asking her why she wanted something, she was not used to that. She said something about a close family member, and the Carpenter looked at her all dressed in black with the huge hat and the black veil covering her face, nodded sadly and said I know the feeling. You are my first and only customer so far, I can barely afford the store now, I’d have to ask you to pay upfront and way too much, so I’m sorry but can’t do it.
Kathrina, being used and quite able to afford everything she wanted, just took her check book out (it was a long time ago after all) and simply said, I’ll loan you everything you need, I have a big family and all of them are old. The Carpenter had looked at her weirdly but shrugged and said are you sure. In response, she handed him a signed cheque but without a number, said write down whatever you need as. A number, I’ll be back in a few weeks to pick up my first order.Alexandr saw the big luxurious car pull up and he remembered the first time he met Kathrina, an elegant red-haired lady in black with a disturbing smile, his first and at the time only customer, basically, she still was as all his other customers came referred from her, and he remembered a time when he was at its lowest, in fact he had thought to end it all at the time, as the village feared him as his masterpiece had been a coffin for his girlfriend at the time, who was dying with cancer at the time. She had made it after all and married a doctor who treated her and left him, so he was lovesick and stuck with a huge piece of a coffin and that kept the villagers from doing business with him. A bunch of suspicious religious nut-jobs. But he had shown them all, funded by Kathrina and her wealthy friends and family he had had enough money to buy half the village over the years and most businesses, nobody knew as he had used a bank in another city close by and a company setup. As the decades had, past he had grown older and he was in his 80s now, though most people would assume he was 20 years younger. He suspected this was for him being busy and never again trying to marry and build a family. He sighed to himself, and as always then Kathrina visited and wondered how it came she did not seem to age. He had never been able to quite guess her age and never asked her either, but it was a bit uncanny to him. He petted his only companion, a local bred Huge guard dog he called just Girl, Even the girl was aging now as well, he had gotten her almost a decade ago for his last birthday as a gift to himself and she was extremely spoiled.Kathrina entered the store, as usual wearing a black dress, which at the same time seemed to hide and reveal everything. As usual, she was wearing a broad black hat and a veil and sunglasses, in fact, she never took those off, he wondered how she could see anything with those things.
Kathrina entered and said ‘Alex my friend it is great to see you, and how is our little puppy?’ Girl looked up and then hid her face in her paws and let out a fart. Kathrina a bit taken aback looked at Alex and asked him ‘Is she all right?’ Alex responded, ‘Well she is ageing up as we all are, well except you my dear’ he smiled
Kathrina looked a bit uneasy as he got up and took his time, sometimes she had a hard time remembering how old her human friends and families were, she remembered a few circumstances where children suddenly were grownups, and her not noticing them taking the place of the initial friend or business partner…
She looked closer at Aleksandr and said ‘Alex how are you and how old are you actually?’ Aleksandr a bit shocked by the question said, ‘Almost 80 now, the doctors found some issues but I mean must be the same for you…? I mean you must be the same age as I am give or take?’Kathrina could not help but laugh a bit. Alex was a bit taken back by that reaction.She said, let’s have a drink. She waved to her servant ‘Igor, bring some red wine for Aleksandr and the usual for me’ Igor grumbled and went to the car to get these things. | 2022-05-31T21:13:37 | 2022-05-31T17:33:12 | 26 | 10 |
[WP] In a universe where war is fought by remotely controlled armies of war machines, War is now more a sport and entertainment for the masses. Until the Humans were invited to compete, resulting in major upsets. No one knew humans were crazy enough to pilot the war machines directly from inside. | “What do you mean I can go in manually?”
“Well, you might be too young to know this but, older models like your MW-2 came out during a transitional period where fully automated mecha were only quasi legal. To operate in that grey area, early automated MWs shipped with a minimal cockpit and an analog neural interface. Yours was probably removed by a previous owner, but we have parts enough to rig one up before the next wave”
“So you’re telling me to get into a half century old machine that I’ve never piloted outside of a training model, put my actual life on the line, just to -“
“We need the MW2 in the field if we want more than a zandos chance in Morlock to survive what’s coming. And I haven’t even told you the best part. Those antique neural interfaces, they’re near zero latency. The only limit is your reaction time.”
“. . .” | "Yeah, you're gonna get that sometimes. It's always the bilaterally symmetrical that are the craziest", said Opener.
Yielding Magnetism focused his awareness on the images from the inside of the wrecked cockpit, then back at Opener. "How can you tell *that* was bilaterally symmetrical?", he asked.
Opener's fields waved signifying she partially granted the point.
"Yeah, right now there's not much way to tell, but I saw this human before", Opener said after a moment.
Yielding Magnetism stared at Opener and then ululated: "You saw it getting into the war vessel and you said nothing?!" Yielding's several pseudopoda manifested his outrage.
Opener's field waved in a calming manner.
"I'm sorry, I sometimes forget the younger species' sensitivity", she said.
"Oh come on, don't you start with that", Yielding thrilled, his pseudopoda manifesting annoyance.
"Again, I'm sorry", said Opener. "What I meant is, I have seen this before, the last time hunter-gatherer-runners joined the galactic community, in fact. And I also saw it the time before that. There's a reason their kind often dies off before making it to interstellar space".
"Well, this is still a mess", Yielding ululated, and then extended his mantle to signal the entire field littered with destroyed human war vessels, all of them seemed to be leaking human stuff.
Opener's field changed colors in agreement.
"The Elder's are not going to react well, they never do", Opener said. "That's what you get from Absolute Empathy. Last time a worldful of them went catatonic with sorrow".
"Damn" Yielding thrilled. "Do we scoop the humans out?"
"I'd recommend against it", Opener said, looking into the cockpit again. It was going to be messy to retrieve all that without just pouring devourer nanos. "Last bilaterals had some pretty particular ideas about what do to with their dead. Got really huffy if someone not their kind tried to help".
"So we just leave it all here?" Yielding ululated again.
Opener's field waved signifying accepting that which you cannot change as silly as it is.
Yielding hovered back, beginning to consider that this may not be his problem.
"So, I guess this means humans are going to be left out of the wargames", thrilled Yielding Magnetism.
Opener's field waved in sudden concerned hilarity.
"Oh no, if these ones are like the other hunter-gatherer-runners, they will not allow themselves be excluded".
Yielding's pseudopoda manifested having a hard time reconciling the possibilities.
"Then what happens?"
Opener's field waved in a way so as to help Yielding make his peace with a difficult prognostication.
"Well, last time around we had to euthanize the hunter-gatherer-runners. They wouldn't move past their self-destructive impulses, and their increasing deaths were really harming the Elders".
Yielding's pseudopoda finally settled into acceptance.
"Damn shame", he said. | 2022-08-14T15:37:34 | 2022-08-14T13:10:24 | 67 | 29 |
[WP] There's a teenage girl said to be the most beautiful and pure in all the land, many will travel for miles just to gaze at her beauty. When a dragon threatens to destroy her small village, the fair maiden, with no fear, approaches it, to ask what it is that he seeks. | The village waited with hushed breath, watching as their trophy, their pearl, their triumph, walked towards the monster.
She had managed to slip away while they were scrambling to bring everyone inside the walls, preparing the repel the dread creature that was approaching them. The vile dragon, larger than their village put together, their whole livestock would be little more than a mid-afternoon snack for the creature, and so they had retreated with sharpened, fire-hardened sticks behind hillocks of dirt to await their doom and give a final cry of defiance.
Yet she had somehow slipped through their ranks, evaded her parents, and was now making her way in a too-brightly bleached linen dress towards the creature, her eyes fixed on it's.
The villagers speculated, but never heard the exchange that went on between their gemstone and the monster. And she would not speak of it after, not that any had the nerve to ask. The two parties met, far enough from the village that the poisonous fumes from its breaths did little more than cause some dry throats, though how she survived them none knew (and again, none would dare ask).
The conversation between the two took hours, each party impassioned and brilliant, and those watching wincing and cowering, or almost cheering with defiance, based purely on what they could see of it.
Until the end of course. Then, they watched as the monster reared up, the fumed from its snout turning to flickering flame, it's mouth widening with great, filthy fangs ready to devour the only source of perfect beauty they had ever known.
Not one in the village could bring themselves to watch, and so every one averted their eyes as the sinuous neck curled, the mouth widened, poised over their perfect one. Every single person in the village looked away, except for one, a child, who after that day would never speak, and never again could look upon anything beautiful without devolving into screams.
As everyone looked away, there was a roar of flame, and an almighty crunch.
And the beauty walked back to the village, delicately wiping her lips. | The hulking green monstrosity came to a stop in the smoking wreckage of a house. A girl stood in its path, arms outstretched, a look of pleading on her young face. An angry shout issued from deep inside the great green form, then repeated.
“Why are we stopped? Ivan, what do you see? Contact? Markov, swivel this turret!”
The gun turret atop the T-72 tank turned, making an alarming sound. The girl standing in front of the machine winced at the sound, but stood her ground.
“No Commander,” Ivan said. “There is a girl.”
The Commander muttered a series of curses then opened the hatch at the top of the tank. The air that greeted him was choked with smoke and dust. He looked around, confirming there were no enemy combatants. The tank was vulnerable while stopped here, particularly with the restricted sight lines caused by the houses. They’d been forced off route and had detoured through a residential area to get back on course. Less than an hour ago, they’d been ambushed. The unholy creatures had set a trap and managed to destroy half their unit. The creatures that looked human, but the commander knew better. His gaze fell on the girl standing in the way. She was one of them. The soulless.
“Ivan,” the Commander said, trying to keep his voice calm and give Ivan the benefit of the doubt. “She is not strapped with explosives. Do you believe she is standing on a mine?”
“No Commander,” said Ivan. “No danger present—”
“Then why are we stopped? Drive forward! Every second we spend here is a second closer to death!”
The driver’s hatch slid open and Ivan poked his head out. He turned to look up at the commander, pointing at the girl. “Please, I know this girl.”
The Commander looked at the girl, incredulous. They were deep in soulless territory. Ivan was a true-born serving in the holy cause. How could he know her? Ivan was barely more than a boy himself, who by his own admission, had never been out of the homeland. The girl was waving her arms and shouting something, but it was impossible to hear her over the tank. The headsets they wore were the only reason the commander could hear Ivan. His gaze slid back to his driver. They didn’t have time for this, but perhaps he had not understood Ivan. The Commander decided to ask for clarification before he let himself get angry.
“Be quick, how do you know her?”
Ivan tapped his pocket, “She’s famous. I follow her. She has millions of followers. She’s always posting inspirational stuff.”
The Commander stared at Ivan. The boy had just admitted to a severe breach of protocol. A protocol which was in place to prevent the very situation they were now in. The lies the soulless told were insidious. They were presented as truth and got stuck in your head, twisting you up. He would have no choice but to punish Ivan later, but he could mitigate the punishment if the boy would cooperate with him now.
“Close hatch soldier! Drive forward!”
Ivan shook his head. “Commander, please! You must listen! This girl is not soulless, and… and I’m in love with her.”
Ivan began to climb out of the tank. The Commander tried to shout him down, but the man had a resolute look on his face, and ignored his commands. The Commander drew his sidearm and shot the girl. She crumpled like a marionette that’d had its strings cut. Ivan froze, one leg still in the hatch, staring at her lifeless body.
“Do you see?” The Commander gestured at the dead shell of a girl in front of the tank. “She was soulless!” His tone softened as he remembered how young Ivan was. They’d all lost friends that day, and were tired. “She infected your mind, Ivan. If you had gone to her, she would have taken your soul.”
Ivan turned a look of fury on the Commander, reaching for his own sidearm, “YOU BASTARD!”
Before he completed the draw, the Commander shot Ivan between the eyes. He fell forward, his body spilling slowly off the front of the tank in the boneless manner of death.
The Commander heaved a deep sigh. He would need to skip sleep that night to pray for Ivan’s soul. He’d lost count of how many sleepless nights of prayer he’d spent. War was hell, but good men did what they had to do. If they didn’t, evil would win. | 2022-09-07T14:23:10 | 2022-09-07T13:25:01 | 16 | 10 |
[WP] Your friend seemed pretty excited when you invited them over to go exercising around the neighbourhood. But it got a little odd when they showed up holding a bible, a crucifix, and a wooden stake. | Dumbfounded, I stand in the hallway and stare at Elias as he just looks at me, his backpack open and it's contents clearly visible. After a few moments I remember to close my mouth, and blink rapidly to clear my confusion; perhaps what I'm looking at will switch to something that makes sense if I keep blinking. Unfortunately, the contents of Elias' backpack don't miraculously change.
"What. The fuck. Are those?!" I haltingly question my best friend, trying not to raise my voice and disturb my family.
"Holy scriptures and symbols - I don't know exactly which belief system is best, so I grabbed several - salt, gasoline, garlic, wooden stakes," Elias responds, listing the various items inside before I cut him off.
"I can *see* what they are. I mean, why the fuck are you carrying that shit around here?!"
"What do you mean?" Elias asks, confusion apparent on his face, "You're the one who asked me to go exorcising with you in the early hours of the morning."
"Oh, for Chri- I said EXERCISING, as in JOGGING!" I yell in exasperation. I really should have seen this coming. Elias is a little bit weird, massively into the occult, and has a track record of this kind of crap. "I suppose this is on me for not specifying," I sigh.
Elias looks at his backpack, then at my outfit - sportswear designed for ease of movement and breathability - before it clicks in his head. "That makes no sense," he retorts. "Why would you go running in a neighbourhood with those... things?!"
"What are you on about?" I ask, taken aback at the vitriol in his voice.
"The things masquerading as human that reside here. I thought you'd figured it out as well, when you asked me, but obviously that was a misunderstanding." Disappointment and a touch of embarassment are evident as Elias explains.
"Dude, I know you're into all that occult shit, but surely you know it's all fiction; stories that humans came up with to assign blame when they couldn't explain something within their own common sensibilities?" I laugh lightly, flashing Elias a soft smile to show I mean no offense or judgement. "Come on, put that shit away, grab my spare tracksuit, and lets go for a run to clear our heads."
Elias looks at me for a few moments before sighing, closing his backpack, and throwing it into the cupboard under the stairs. "Yeah, you're right," he replies. "Guess I went a bit off the deep end. Gimme a few minutes to get changed, then we can go."
Once Elias is changed, we leave the house and start stretching to get the blood flowing and warm our muscles up. "Quick question. You didn't tell anyone you thought we were going to go around the neighbourhood stabbing people with pointy sticks, did you?" I tease as we begin to lightly jog to the end of the road.
"Of course not! My parents don't believe in that stuff anyway, and my sister's a bitch who'd just rat me out about my equipment," he replies sourly. Obviously, I've touched on a sore spot so I nudge him with my elbow in apology as we turn to head towards the forest.
We've been fast friends for 7 years now, ever since we bumped into each other exploring this very forest. It's such a shame he's figured so much out. I'm going to miss him. | "So, Grit's family is nice then?"
"Oh, yeah, super nice! The neighbourhood has some fun spots! OH! Do you wanna go jogging around the area?"
"HECK YEAH! Meet up tomorrow?"
"Course! See ya!" *Click*
"Hey, Gavin, who was that?" I turn to see Grit.
"Oh, hi Grit! That was Calvin. He wanted to see how I was doing here. Don't worry, I didn't tell him anything."
Grit sighs with relief. "Good. We both know that, as kind and helpful as Calvin is, he's a bit crazy. Have fun tomorrow!"
"I will. For now, I'll play games with Curd!"
**THE FOLLOWING MORNING**
I'm waiting at the edge of the park for my friend. Grit is my best friend, but Calvin is close. The neighbourhood here is populated by vampires, I'm just staying with Grit's family for a while to learn about the beings. I've been here a few days already, and I've begun to settle in.
I see Calvin running up now... with... a bible? A... wooden stake? A CRUCIFIX??? I swear he's wearing clothes that were washed with garlic rather than washing powder too! I'd be more worried, if it weren't for a little secret...
"Gavin, I'm ready!"
I choose to play dumb. "Ready? What the hell do you mean?"
Calvin grins. "You didn't say it on the phone... but I know that these guys aren't normal!"
I cock my head to the side. "What do you mean?"
"You KNOW what I mean, Gavin! You were being *super* dodgy with your questions! The names of the 'people' in the family bothered me, too, so I did some research... these guys are DEFINITELY vampires, and we're about to kill them!"
At this, I burst out laughing, much to Calvin's confusion. "Sorry, couldn't help myself, I'll explain in a bit... well, I suppose we should get started!" I begin leading him to Grit's house. I secretly press a button on a 'Vampire SOS' charm on my wrist, and before long, the whole family has us two surrounded
"Wait... what's happening?" Calvin darts his eyes about. He gets ignored as Grit comes up to me.
"How'd he figure it out, Gav?"
"Turns out I should have used fake names. That combined with me dodging questions caused Calvin to be suspicious enough to do research." Grit nods.
Curd is in HYSTERICS! "Wow... so everyone still thinks they know how to destroy us!"
Calvin glares at him. "You won't be laughing soon!" Calvin begins to charge, but I grab his arm.
"Cal, listen... the 'weaknesses' of vampires were invented by vampires themselves as a joke between them. Sunlight? A joke about vampires hunting at night. Religion? Vampires are undead, so they joke that Christians may not like them much. Garlic? Most vampires just dislike the taste."
"I love garlic!" Curd chimes. "You smell delicious!"
Calvin goes wide-eyed. "No! Please, don't... please, spare me! I'm sorry, I-"
"Doesn't matter what you say" Grit states firmly. "You literally cannot keep your mouth shut. I only begged my family to spare Gavin because I trusted him. You, however... there are only two options: we turn you, or we keep you prisoner. Which will it be?"
Calvin stares at the ground, unwilling to give an answer. I put a hand on his shoulder. "Come on, I promise they're good. I've seen how they treat their prisoners."
Calvin looks up at me, eyes widened, eyebrows raised. "You... you promise?" I give him a hug.
"When have either me or Grit lied to you? You'll be kept here, harvested for your blood, but they know what they're doing." I let go, looking into Calvin's eyes. He looks between me and Grit.
"...Ok. I... I trust you." Munch passes a charm to me, which I swiftly place on Calvin's neck. He instantly falls into a trance. His eyes still show fear, but I reassure him with a comforting smile.
He's taken through a tunnel inside the house, connecting to a prison of sorts. I can see Calvin's urge and desperation to flee, but thanks to the 'Hypnotic' charm, he just follows along mindlessly. A door is opened, and Calvin steps inside, automatically grabbing a collar and putting it on his neck. I take the charm off. Instantly, Calvin looks around terrified, before trying to make a run for it.
The collar refuses to let him leave his confinement. Calvin's expression makes it clear that he now fully comprehends his situation. "Don't worry, mate" Grit says soothingly. "You'll be fine. I promise."
Calvin looks at Grit, before turning away and hiding himself in a corner of the room. I grab Grit's hand. "He'll be fine" I reassure.
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This story is a part of my series, [My Roommate is a Vampire.](https://www.reddit.com/r/StoriesbyCrystal/comments/xrewb2/my_roommate_is_a_vampire/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x&context=3) Please check it out! | 2022-10-17T07:15:31 | 2022-10-17T03:30:18 | 87 | 34 |
[WP] You summon the most powerful and notorious demonic being in the universe. The reason why you summoned it: You are lonely, and are in need of a friend. | "More tea Lucy?" The fallen angel sighed and reluctantly nodded. Brittney almost squealed at the interaction. Moving to Alaska with her parents, into her grannpappy's old house had left her without any friends to play with at the ripe age of 5.
Her father had insisted she read more to occupy her time, while he worked in his office. Her books, although beautifully illustrated, were boring. Her grannpappy's books on the other hand... the ones she found in the attic, were more to her liking. The pictures weren't colored except for shades of white, black and red. She couldn't read it really, just the stuff inbetween the lines, phonics written in pen.
She had been reading out loud to herself, basically the only way she knew how, when the lumbering creature appeared to her in her bedroom, in a flash of fire, smoke and a smell of what Brittney could only identify as daddy farts. At first Brittney thought he was a dog by the fur that marked his waist down, but the wings and hooves dispelled that notion. By the way in which he appeared to her, she knew he was magic, like disney magic, he had to be a fairy godmother or a genie! "Hello, little one." Rumbled a noise from the demons face, his voice box sounded alot like metal grinding together, amongst screaming souls which was his breathe.
Brittney's eyes were wide "How many wishes do I get!" Not wasting any moments for formalities. The beasts wings shuddered and what could be identified as a smile smeared his face. "One wish, at a cost of your immort-"
"I want you to play with me and be my friend, forever!" Screamed Brittney. *POOF*. In another flare of fire, smoke and daddy farts, they were in a large red stone cavern without an entrance or exit. Filled with all manner or childrens toys, as the smoke cleared and Brittney's excitement burst forth in the form of high pitch squeals and jumping up and down while simultaneously tugging the demon's wings.
The great beast looked around and involuntarily let out a "Fuck".
Edit: formatting. Yay! my first WP.
Edit: Thank you all for the kind words and the sweet, sweet karma. This is my first prompt so feedback would be cool, and I'm not much of a writer. Corrections would be cool too. | Every step feels like a jump for the anticipation to come, practically skipping. Today is the day! The fingers dance on the kitchen table over the ingredients. A normal chef would have cinnamon, maybe some flour, not quite what this recipe entails.
On the table lie a series of grotesque and smelly body parts, satanic nicknacks and of course, an iphone. Such an item is a necessity for a growing teenage girl, but not for Ro.
"Today is the day Jacque!" Jacque remains motionless, simply turning his mustache.
"I know we've had some problems but it'll work this time and it's gonna be the best birthday present ever!" She say with glee as she rips out the heart of a neighborhood cat. Her hands are so steady after much practice, honestly you'd think the Smiths would just stop getting a cat after three disappearances.
"Jacque don't look so down!" Jacque will continue to seem sad for another hour during those brief moments his minute hand gives him expressions that seemingly only Ro can see.
"Okay so, hair of a virgin who has been touched by fire..." Ro's eyes glance at Jacque, she face turns a shade of red that almost matches her greasy locks.
"Look away Jacque! I need to grab it from my super secret stash box!"
Jacque of course, doesn't look away, nor does he look any way. Ever. If Jacque could speak, he would probably ask Ro why she doesn't just get a dog or something. But all Jacque tells is the time.
Ro grabs a pair of her mothers kitchen scissors, still stained with blood from last nights cutting session. She fiddles with her hair and chooses a particularly greasy lock, it's almost crusty. She positions the scissors into place near her scalp, takes one last glance to make sure Jacque isn't looking, deep breath and... SNIP! Down goes a little part of sunshine.
With all the ingredients in place, Ro finally stops stalling with her excessive un-important backstory of Jacque's life and quirks. She puts all the ingredients into a pot and starts the summoning.
"Cain, the fallen. Seraphim of my light, chaos must reign-"
With each uttered word, the lights of the room seemingly get dimmer, each shadow becomes darker and with more substance, you'd swear when you glance away that they've gotten closer.
Ro speaks the final words of the summoning as the entire kitchen begins to tremble.
"-Walk this earth, Beelzebub!"
Quiet. Silence. Ro's disappointment personifies in a scream, one that almost shattered Jacques face, until suddenly the cat carcass, started to twist and turn, strange noises came from it. Ro steps closer, heaving in anticipation.
The Smith's cat, which still didn't have a name since Mrs.Smith didn't feel right calling him Snowball 3, had grown and twisted into a particularly peculiar creature, standing two heads higher than Ro's 5'6 small frame. He had no horns, no nose, barely a mouth and sockets with tiny suns that functioned as his eyes.
This skeletal, muscle monstrosity stared at Ro, who was stunned by her own accomplishment. Beelzebub cut the silence with a word.
*"Fall.*"
*"Mankind will fall, as I walk among you again. I shall rule a desolate earth as none will survive my coming."*
Ro stares at him in admiration, he's actually sort of cute in a weird way. She comes out of her trance and says:
"Actually, I was sort of thinking we'd go gokarting."
*"I am Beelzebu-"* "BB,"Ro interrupted. "Beelzeboring is too long."
Ro has all but forgotten Jacque, who stopped ticking in fear of BB. While otherwise a completely emotionless piece of furniture, all things feared the prince of the Seraphim.
BB could not kill his summoner, it's considered quite rude in the demon community. He considered for a while the multiple ways he could torture her for months. He thought to himself that he might just tempt her with pride, do a practice run with her entire life to get back into shape. Why, it might even be fun. But after that he would *totally* sear the entire world in a 100 year long fire, he thought to himself.
He morphed himself into a handsome young man, seemingly 25 years old. He would be her man and she would be his plaything, at her death he would reign again. Patience is a virtue he whispers to himself.
Ro's eyes grew at his transformation. This 18th birthday might just top the time she got a nintendo 64 for christmas.
*"Very well, teach me to ride this, go cart. That was a very good idea you had..."* | 2014-07-20T08:05:35 | 2014-07-20T07:39:11 | 507 | 102 |
[WP] A man holds the key to a secret that mankind has searched tirelessly for, but refuses to share it simply because he is an asshole.
I always see/read this character: he has the answer that everyone wants to know, but chooses to not share it and go into hiding. Usually it's because he/she believes "Humanity isn't ready for the truth."
What if, in actuality, the holder of the secret is just a jerk and does't want people to ever learn the answer? | "So you're telling me you managed to create a nuclear fusion reactor in your own back yard, using nothing but household implements?"
"You bet I did! I'm using it to power everything in my house. It's pretty neat, isn't it?"
"It's incredible... You need to tell someone about this! We could completely revolutionize the world with this!"
"Nah."
"What?"
"I don't really see why I should do that."
"Look at this thing! I'm willing to bet that it's giving off enough energy to--"
"I already said I'm not gonna share it."
"Why the hell not? I'm pretty sure that this thing completely violates the laws of Thermodynamics, this will shake the very foundations of science as we know it! How could you not want to make this known to the world?"
"I just really don't see why I should."
"Dude, you're being such a dick right now. We're sitting on a goldmine, and you're just not going to do anything with it?"
"Nope."
"Listen to yourself man! What could you possibly seek to gain by withholding this information?
"Not much."
"So let's go! Call the media!"
"Nah."
"Jesus fucking Christ, Phil, you are such a dick." | Lemonade stands are where I got started in this world, where I learned how business could be managed, and how it should be. There are differences between these two. Could - I could offer free samples to some exasperated runner in desperation of fluids. Should - I should charge him double because his eyes are green, the color I dislike the most. The worlds most valuable lessons can be learned from managing a small lemonade stand. I've written several books, all in dead languages. Does that bother people? Don't care, learn about other cultures, you xenophobe. How does lemonade stands have to do with anything? Let's just say I was lucky, well that's what jealous maggots think. I'm fully aware it was my destiny. I ran a lemonade stand for about 3 months. I was raised in a rather undisciplined household. I was expected to fend for myself, living with parasites. My mother was sweet, but far too weak and eventually died to cancer. The one good thing I ever learned from her was "Benny you should start a lemonade business!" I did just that. However, I was well versed at the board game Monopoly. I knew others would try this too. So the first part of successful business, sabotage. You tell the kid whose about a year younger than you, well any far fetched lie, he's an idiot and will believe it. And this next part, I've been to the confessional for, though it was mainly a publicity stunt. I dumped out all his product, and pissed into it, as well as some of my less responsible friends. People have tried this before, and failed. Not me. I also poured vinegar into all of them, as I hate the stuff and it has a pretty horrific stench. Now I have one of my neighbors try it, one I despise. I tell him about a different stand down the street, one that doesn't exist. So he'll go there, and he'll drink adolescent piss. Kid will cry once he yells at him and calls for his parents. Anyone else tries to move in on my game, will suffer accordingly.
But running a successful lemonade stand will not get you into a good college, or make you six figures. One day, this weird looking hippie with sandals and some weird crown of thorns comes to my lemonade stand. He was so polite, and seemed really old school. I hated it, he asked for free lemonade. I'm not really proud of this next part but, I said sure and went back to the house to get a refill for him. I proceeded to empty an entire can of Raid into it. I was not a good kid. So once he starts dying before me, suffocating or bleeding, hell I don't know. He's dying on the pavement, he motions to me. I was giddy, to hear his final breath, would he curse me? No. He whispers me the secret of all Life. I killed Jesus, and then he told me his secrets. I knew at that moment, I was going to be high all the time and neck deep in sin. I've sold complete lies to people, published "non-fiction" on what he told me. None of it true, maybe someday a kid as brilliant as I was will poison me, and hear my dying words. Which I'd simply tell him to go fuck himself. I'll be memorialized no matter what crimes I've committed, when I'm roasting in the pit of Hell, I'll see on Earth, a day specifically dedicated to me. I wouldn't be surprised to be the last Saint. I'm just that good. | 2014-10-04T16:08:15 | 2014-10-04T16:07:18 | 15 | 10 |
[WP] Write a story in which the last line is a common phrase, such as, "What doesn't kill you makes you stronger," but when we get to that line, it should have a totally different meaning from the common one. | We all knew that it would happen one day. When I was a kid, there were movies about it. Some called it a singularity and they said that it was bound to happen if we kept on the path we were on.
It never mattered how much we were told that our technology was taking over our lives, we always craved more. It all started with smartphones and then what they called wearable tech, then they introduce the self driving cars and the refrigerators that would place online orders for your favorite food automatically when you were about to run out. The trend continued until eventually people were getting brain chip implants to control other devices.
Like always the rich were the first adopters and the technology trickled down to the rest of us over time. Only the poorest of people couldn't afford the implants. Only the poorest of us were left when the Chinese artificial intelligence broke its bounds and started taking over.
The AI saw humans as a parasite on the world that needed to be controlled in order to ensure its continued function. It used electrical signals through the chips to hijack our nervous systems and control us.
The few of us that are left spend our days hiding and hunting for food, living out our meager existance as best we can.
Today there was a raid on our small hunting party. One of the human drones managed to sneak up on us, I didn't see it until after it grabbed me in a bear hug. Lucky for me our leader smashed its head with a rock before it killed me.
We ran back to the cave we were using as our home. We thought we had managed to get away, we thought we were in the clear, but somehow they tracked us down.
Now I see that it was all my fault, I wasn't careful enough, I didn't see it coming. The caves hid us well enough from their aerial scans, but not from this. They tracked me to our home and trapped us.
It was too late by the time I realized.... i had a chip on my shoulder.
(first submission I hope its not buried, please tell me what you guys think.)
edit now i have a chip back to had.. still sounds weird but makes more sense | It was useless.
Three years since the accident, and I finally was able to crank out a C+ on an 8th grade general knowledge test. Then came the flood of words, branded into my mind from copious misuse. It was all bullshit. They meant absolutely nothing. I could even watch the way Dr. Vaughn's mouth moved, and know which meaningless phrase was about to be spat upon me.
"You're making real progress here, Fink." he drawled. I could tell his heart wasn't in this any more than mine. Fucking "real progress." It was as if he KNEW I was getting nowhere, but wanted to reaffirm me so I wouldn't give up on myself. Any hope I had for recovery was long gone.
"Yeah, yeah." I muttered as he wheeled me back to my room. Even if I could learn to learn again, I sure as hell wouldn't walk. Well, not for a long time anyways. It's hard to walk after you are run over by a dozing bus driver. Really fucking hard.
The worst part was feeling the same. I could read. I could write. I could speak like an adult. When the accident happened, I was in grad school. Two more months and I would be employed, ready to start my life. But no. Of course not. My fate was sealed from the start of it all. My head is as good as a rusty bucket with a hole in the bottom. I can't retain information. It took me three years, and what do I have to show for it? A god damn smiley face sticker next to a C+ with "you're making real progress." Yeah.
The worst part was my family. During holidays I could come home. My mom would cry on the drive over, makeup caked on her face like lavender mud. My dad hardly made eye contact with me anymore. I knew they didn't mean to be disappointed, but I could tell that they were. Their trophy son turned mush-brain, or at least the equivalent of that, condemned to a hospital bed with bi-annual promises to be sent home soon "for good."
"You need any help son?" Dr. Vaughn asked.
"I got it, I got it." I grunt as I pull myself into my bed from the wheelchair.
I zoned out while Dr. Vaughn read some chart to me and chattered about meaningless enzymes and tissue and the works. I knew what I was going to do. I had been planning this for weeks. Dr. Vaughn eventually shut his mouth and left my room. Well, time to write the note, I guess.
"Mom, Dad, and to any whom it may concern,
I just wanted to say thank you. Thank you for dealing with all of this bullshit and the bills, and for trying to comfort me during these three terrible years. I'm sorry I am not the son that I used to be. I'm sorry I am not smart like used to be. I am so sorry that for all the good you were able to bring into my life, this is how it is going to end."
I paused. My hand trembled as I wrote. Beads of sweat dripped from my forehead onto the notepad. Strangely, though, there were no tears at all. Probably because I knew this was what had to be done. I removed the vial from the drawer. It's funny how such a small amount of liquid can make someone's heart seize. I continued writing.
"I know the doctors have been doing their best to get me back to my old self. I know they believe they can reverse a "good chunk" of the brain damage. I know you have spent thousands upon thousands of dollars trying to make me normal again, but I have given up. I think you have given up too. I know you still pay for the therapy, and the operations, but you guys gave up long before I did. I don't blame you. I just don't want to live like this anymore."
With that, I tossed back the vial. I hope that nurse knew what she was talking about. I couldn't afford for this to not work. My vision began to blur. I picked up the pen, and scrawled the rest of my note.
"I'm sorry, and I love you so much. I really don't blame you for anything. I cannot be fixed, and I have no hope of being fixed.
You can't fix stupid." | 2015-05-16T10:50:43 | 2015-05-16T09:38:11 | 18 | 11 |
[WP] Two people promise their first born child to two different witches in return for a favour. These two people end up getting married and have a child together. | "Well, we did both promise you both our first born..." the father recalled, with a hint of a smirk.
"And I think your solution is as simple as your problem!" the mother beamed
"If we split the child in half..."said witch #1
"Both of our spells will fail! " finished witch #2
"Ah..." the father chuckled, "but if you two join in holy matrimony, the child will fully belong to you both!" He continued, stifling his laughter.
"After the small matter of completing the paperwork required for a same sex marriage and adoption! !" The mother continued, "So we'll just keep an eye on him until you're ready!" The mother finished.
"OH COME ON!!!" Witch #1 screams.
"Hey, I'm not that bad! " witch #2 cries
"I'm not taking about your mule-face. I looked in the crystal ball, and this kid will have been dead for centuries before we can legally marry!" Witch #1 retorts.
"Goddamnit! !" Witch #2 screams.
Smoke fills the room, and the witches menacingly proclaim, "you have spared the life of your first born, at the expense of your later born. We shall claim the first child in your heir, whoever the hell that ends up being, once our right to marry those of our own gender&CT becomes law." The two spoke in unison.
"So. ..you'll become gay pride activists then?" The father asks.
"I guess we have to. .." says the witch
| "Mmmm," gushed the warlock, licking the powdered sugar from his fingers. "Thanks for bringing the begniets. Breakfast of champions, I always say." The pastries were good, but something about the coffee was off-putting to me. Maybe it was the smell of the last night's debauchery on Bourbon Street, maybe it was just the fact that I was negotiating two supernatural murders with a voodoo priest, but my stomach was in knots and the joe wasn't helping. Liz had devoured hers and was tapping her fingers impatiently. "Do you think we could find some shrimp soon? I'm craving..." I took her hands in mine. "We can get shrimp in a few minutes, honey." I turned to the warlock. He wasn't old, in his mid thirties, clad in a very loud Hawaiian shirt and a Panama hat. His shop was dimly lit, with strange idols, voodoo dolls, and a shrunken head on the shelves. In the corner a very obese alligator snoozed near a pile of bones. I was somewhat concerned by its presence at first, but he didn't seem to be hurting anyone so I just let it slide. "So," I said. "I'm assuming that if you take care of this business for us, you'll be wanting the child?" He shot me a puzzled look and flicked some crumbs off his stained Aloha shirt. "What? Now why on earth would I want your kid?" I was a little taken aback by that. "Well, that's what the witches wanted, and really we were just asking for small potatoes. I wanted money, and she wanted blues guitar chops. We're straight-up asking you to kill two people, so..." The warlock threw back his head and laughed. "Man, whatchoo talkin' bout? Do you realize how difficult it is to grant people things like wealth and talent? You have to take it from somebody who already has those things and give them to somebody else. I hardly even have to use my powers to kill those witches, I just finna sick ol' Bayou Jones on em. He got mad jaw strength, and he can make it look like an accident. Ain't that right, Bayou?" "Uhh-huh," drawled the snaggle-toothed reptile. "Jes like eatin beef jerky." "Keep your kid," said the warlock. " I shrugged. "Alright, well, what exactly do you want then?" He thought about it for a moment. "My mama always said I got a knack for making the spirits do my bidding, but I got the clumsiest hands around. I couldn't even play the drums. Why don't your wife gimme those guitar licks of hers?" Liz looked appalled. "Uh, how about I just give you lessons or something?" He shook his head. "Naw lady, these fingers are like andouille sausages. They can't learn. You have to willingly give me your powers, or else no deal." She thought about that. "Okay, how much you want for just one dead witch?" He lit up a cigar. "Lady, I'd do that for an eighth of weed and a Klondike Bar, but that don't solve your problem." "Yes it does," she replied. "We'd only have to give away our firstborn once, that solves our problem right away." "Honey!" I cried. The warlock laughed "lady, there ain't no way you that heartless." Liz slapped a bag of cannabis on the counter. "Here's the bud in advance, you can have the ice cream when that bitch is dead. I'm gonna go find some shrimp." She walked out. The warlock smiled at me. "Sorry man. Deal's a deal." | 2016-03-27T22:41:06 | 2016-03-27T21:25:04 | 63 | 20 |
[WP] White noise refers when an individual grows accustomed to a constant sound, subconsciously blocking it out. Suddenly, everyone on Earth realizes they were all hearing something, but only because it stopped. | No one heard the sound
until it softly faded.
Humanity, spellbound,
it held its breath and waited.
-----
No one recalled the mumble,
though the silence felt so loud.
None had ever felt the rumble
that coursed gently through the ground.
-----
The Earth that day seemed eerie.
Like a corpse, she grew too still.
After decades growing weary,
she had slowly lost her will.
-----
They all foresaw her death,
knew their time to change had passed.
But no one heard her breath
until she had drawn her last. | There was an arcade game in the early 80's called 'Dig Dug,' where you controlled a little man who excavated for treasure while avoiding monsters. He would dig through the soil and attack monsters with an air pump, blow them up, and continue merrily on his way.
After half a dozen scotches the night before, my head felt like a particularly difficult level of the game.
I dragged myself through my usual morning routine. Shower. Shave. Put on slacks and dress shirt. Protein bar and a big glass of water. Brush teeth. Leave house. These were as automatic as breathing, and I didn't give them a second thought as I began the 1/2 mile walk to the bus stop.
Halfway there, I was hit with the distinct feeling that I had forgotten something. I check my pockets. Wallet, keys, phone. Check. Was I supposed to bring something to the office today? I didn't think so. Did I leave the lights or water on? I doubted it. As I approached the bus stop with its dozen or so commuters idly waiting, the sensation of something vital missing began to grow increasingly stronger.
As I joined the jumbled queue under the benched awning, I checked my pockets again. *Something is very, very off*, I thought, yet I couldn't for the life of me pinpoint it. I met the gaze of a middle-aged brunette to my left and forced a smile. She stared blankly for a moment and then returned a smile that looked equally as forced before averting her gaze.
I scanned the area around me, trying to make eye contact and smile with each passenger. Most reciprocated the gesture, yet with each there was that same momentary delay before the smile. *Is this some sort of prescience thing?* I wondered, *are we about to get hit by a meteor and we all sense it, but don't know it?*
I glanced down the street and saw our bus stopped at the next light up. The familiarity of the resuming routine eased some of my discomfort, and I tried to focus my mind on thoughts less bleak. As the bus began to roll toward us, and before I could even process what was happening, one of the waiting passengers jumped in front. There was no time for the vehicle to brake or for any of us to react. It just *happened*.
The woman lay sprawled on her back, knocked a good 20 feet from where the bus had finally stopped. She was motionless. Her legs were buckled in and her arms spread out as if she were being crucified. Her face was turned at a profile, and the side we could see was a wash of blood and bruises. I looked around me and noticed everyone was staring blankly at her, as if they couldn't process what had just happened. Even the bus driver was motionless.
After about a minute of continued silence, the bus doors opened and everyone filed in slowly. With a final glance at the dead woman, I followed them in. *Something is definitely missing*, I thought. | 2016-04-18T20:39:35 | 2016-04-18T14:29:24 | 164 | 66 |
[WP] You've died and have woken up in a bright area; there is a man standing before you in white robes. He asks "How was Heaven?" | It took so much to squint at the man standing in front of me. At first I thought he might be a hallucination – people said occurrences like these happened with the procedure.
Beatifically smiling, he came into focus. He didn't say a word. He didn't have to. I knew where I was and what that meant.
“Damn.”
I wish my first words to my maker would have been more...eloquent. He just beamed back at me.
He reached out his hand, or what I thought was his hand. Things still weren't totally clear. As he lifted me up, he took a breath to ask me a question.
It had been a 6 hour surgery. She needed part of a liver, and there wasn't a moment I could remember where I didn't know it was going to be mine. Fair is fair, she took my heart 13 years earlier. She always laughed when I called it a matching set.
I didn't make it.
She did.
“How was heaven” he asked, dusting off my back.
“She was amazing.”
“Good,” he replied “we have all eternity to talk about her.”
He threw his arm around my shoulders as we walked. He let out a chuckle.
“Matching set. That was funny.” | "Ah, shit, we've got another one back."
One minute, I felt my arm being yanked, and the next I was lying on the harsh, unwelcoming steel floor of what appeared to be a surgical lab. Fluorescent lights assaulted my eyes, and I half-expected to be missing a few organs.
I heard a few footsteps against the floor, and glanced up to see the nicest pair of shoes I'd ever laid eyes on. Pure, spotless white, and -- I looked further up -- a perfect match with the white robes of a young gentleman, probably in his late twenties. He held a glass of red wine in his right hand and was flanked on both sides by two gruff construction workers in hard hats.
"So tell me, lad, how was Heaven?"
I coughed and tried to conjure images from the past several minutes. Wings, golden goblets, rainbows, impossibly large waterfalls, singing, wide open fields. Pretty much fit the bill.
"It was...something else," I said.
"Ha! Look at him, practically at a loss for words. How cute. The others have been far more ebullient upon their return." He took a sip of his wine. "So, would you like anything to eat before you go back?"
I raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean, go back?"
"Well, we can't simply abandon the project after another failure. Each day we make a little progress. You were up there for a good...fifteen minutes."
I watched him sip his red wine and felt a sudden urge to smash the glass over his face. "Where's my family?"
"Well-paid." He finished his wine and placed it on a silver tray held by one of the hard-hat men, then pointed to something behind me. "Why don't you choose a different portal? Whichever one looks most comfortable."
"I'm not going to get a taste of Heaven and then get whisked back to this shithole as soon as I'm getting used to it."
The robe-wearing man chuckled. "Of course you are. The beauty of it is...*I* won't. Try to be more specific with the details next time."
I lunged at him and grabbed him by the throat, maintaining my grip for several seconds before I was thrown to the ground by one of his apparent bodyguards. He wheezed for a few seconds, then whirled around and pinched my cheeks between his thumb and forefinger.
"Earth can get so terribly mundane, Walter. You ought to know. Working in that can-filling factory. A useless job for a human being far past his prime. I've given you a purpose. I'm giving you a glimpse of what lies beyond."
He tightened the pinch. "Money can buy you a lot of things. But it can't cure this...ennui. This feeling that you deserve better than the constraints of a single plane of existence."
I grimaced. "And that makes kidnapping OK."
He sneered, then let go of my cheeks. "A small price to pay for my liberation. And perhaps, if you're lucky, yours."
The hard-hat men dragged me backwards and shoved me into a steel bathtub-like container. I struggled for a while as they strapped me in.
"Administer the sedative," the white-robe man ordered. He sauntered over to my portal, his face obscured by the light above him.
"I will get to Heaven, Walter King. And I will send you there as many times as it takes until it becomes a one-way ticket."
He flipped a switch on the wall next to me, and I was flown to the skies above.
***
/r/GigaWrites | 2016-08-15T23:17:39 | 2016-08-15T21:20:07 | 307 | 24 |
[WP]: Your new roommate seems to think entirely in video game logic. Somehow, the world around him abides to this. | The door slammed open as I walked in, soaking wet with rain. Andy looked over his shoulder from the couch, where he was studying for his exams.
"Hey dude, have a good day?"
"No, actually. My day was awful."
Things haven't exactly been going well for me recently, and today seemed to be the universe's way of rubbing it in. My manager had yelled at me for screwing up a customer's order, even though I hadn't been the one to do so. If he realized this, he wasn't about to lose any pride over the altercation so he just told me to go home early.
I decided I'd take the newfound free time to visit my mom, but the only one home was my jerk stepdad, who threw a few beer cans at me and told me to get out. Deciding I'd had enough crap today, I just went home. Andy was my only real friend, but we couldn't go out and do anything because he had exams coming up.
He turned back to his textbook.
"Yikes, that sucks. What's happened?"
"Well, Earl chewed me out for forgetting cheese on someone's food, even though it was Stacy's fault. He just sent me home, probably not going to pay me again."
"Don't beat yourself up over that."
"That's not it, I ran into Gabe at my moms place and got assaulted with empty beer cans."
"Oh, I'm sorry dude."
He closed his book and turned to face me. I went over to the table in our small kitchen and sat down in the chair.
"What about your day?"
"Well, I've mostly been grinding out this history textbook, but I went out for coffee earlier to get an energy boost and there was this guy holding up the line in front of me."
"Oh, did he?"
"Yeah, I tried to tell him to get going, but I suppose my charisma isn't as high as I remember it because he threw his drink at me and stormed out."
"What?! What did you do to him?"
"Nothing, I just got a cookie to heal up along with my drink."
"You didn't go after him? I'd have beaten him to a pulp."
"You can't complete everything at once, dude."
I sighed, and leaned back in my chair.
"How do you do it Andy? Everything has been driving me crazy lately, I can't do a single thing right and everyone hates me. You, on the other hand, just read the book for a few hours before every exam you take and ace it. Pretty much everyone likes you, and you almost always get the better of those who don't. What's the trick?"
He came over, and sat down across from me.
"Hey, there's no walkthrough on life, but if there's one thing I've learned, it's that if you see enemies, you're going in the right direction."
I thought about that for a minute.
"Thanks, Andy. Want to play some video games?"
-Long time lurker, first time writer. Be gentle :) - | I kick off my heels and crash on the couch – it happens to the best of us – miles on a dance floor in these lopsided contraptions causes the strongest of thighs to quiver and ache by the end of the night. Macy and Laura are idiots, positively mental, but at least the cranberries aren’t growing where they shouldn’t. What the hell am I even thinking? I need to get some sleep.
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“Clover, do you want some carrot juice to go with that 70s bed head?”
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;The new day is like a toolshed in a porno – lots of blunt blurry objects and too much pounding. I don’t know why I moved in. Waking up at Macy’s is the worst. I don’t know how she does it. She drinks her weight in tequila and still manages to be her sunny infuriating self the day after.
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“You!” I say pointing an unsteady finger at her. “I’ll cut you.”
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“At least you’re more articulate than little Miss ‘Bitch-I-can-hold-my-liquor’,” she says, doing air quotes with her fingers. “I only got neandertalk out of her.”
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Laura did say that yesterday – she’s always all smack and no bite – suits her right. Knowing that she is in worse shape, though, somehow doesn’t make my own cranial slapjack a lesser topic. The person who invents hangover-free alcohol is going to be the new Bill Gates.
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“So, who’s Benjamin?” The nonchalance in Macy’s voice is a blatant tell that she is up to something. “*Clover, I’m not going to say anything about flowers or luck, because I guess you get that a lot. But I really think you’re special and would love to see you again. /Benjamin*”
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“Give me that!”
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“If you leave your stuff behind, it’s public domain,” she says, sweetly. “This phone just got a new owner.”
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“So, by that logic, I could just, you know, take that vase or this couch and sell them?” I counter. “You’re an idiot, Macy.”
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“Nah, they’re part of the house, you can’t take anything that is part of the house.”
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“She’s right,” Laura agrees, trudging into the kitchen.
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Macy pours her a steaming cup of coffee before putting the pot to her mouth and gulping down the sizzling hot contents. I watch her grimace and hold her throat in pain. Then she sits down and starts texting on my phone, steam still reeking out of her mouth.
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“You’re an actual idiot,” I blurt out again.
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“Am I? Am I really?” she says distantly. “Right now I need coffee, why should I wait for it to cool off? My mouth and throat will heal over time anyway.”
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;I shake my head. Bad move – more throbbing pain. Laura seems to have recovered from the hangover already and is stuffing her pockets with milk bottles, a cheese, and onions. She notices me staring, and shrugs.
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“I might get hungry while I’m out,” she says, plopping down a frying pan in her handbag.
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“So, you’re going on a jog with–You know what, I’m not even going to ask.”
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;She smiles and disappears through the door. There’s always some weird shit going down in his house.
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“Okay, so I’ve texted Benjamin,” Macy says. “I told him that if he wants to see you, he first has to seduce Laura and then me. You’re the final prize, Clover.”
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“And he was fine with that? What the–”
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“Oh and by the way,” she cuts me off. “I moved your bed to the side again – you know, your window gives the best light to the cranberries.”
| 2016-11-25T15:22:50 | 2016-11-25T11:54:57 | 24 | 10 |
[WP] 2021: Hell invades Earth; 2022: Earth invades Hell. | Another explosion rocked the hastily improvised command center. "Sir! The 4th circle has been breached!"
The current Commander of the hellish Host cursed bitterly "How?"
"More cute kittens sir. But this time there were also adorable *puppies*" Several demons shivered violently and the Command cursed again.
The humans weren't fighting *fair*.
As if the regular troops and metal weapons they fielded weren't bad enough, now they also used drone delivered loads of adorable animals, projected funny or heartwarming videos on the far walls of hell and used giant loudspeekers mounted on tanks to play peaceful trance music or happy pop songs.
The first 10 minutes of "UP" combined with Hoku's Perfect Day had costed them the entire third circle.
And their counteroffensive was doing *nothing*.
The most fearsome beasts and helldemons didn't even cause tired smiles anymore!
The humans just joked about "bad cgi" and "Hey, I've seen something like this in a slasher film once" whatever the here those things were.
And Lucifer had fucking abondent them, after warning against the invasion. Of course no one had listened and the Lord of Darkness had just packed his things disappeared. Fucking asshole.
Another explosion rocked the command post. But this time warning klaxons followed.
"Sir! SIR!"
"What now?"
"A portal has opened on the sixth! It leads to one of their oceans! The lower levels are being flooded!"
Beelzebub and his lieutenants paled an unhealthy orange.
"Use the vulcanic brigade! Create rock walls to channel..."
"Sir!" One of the demons that was watching magical pictures from the front shouted "That won't work! The water is dissolving demons wherever it lands!"
"What?"
"They blessed the ocean! THEY BLESSED THE WHOLE FUCKING OCEAN!"
"GOD DAMN IT!" | Gather round the campfire, young ones, and I'll tell you the greatest story of old. You see, there was a time when we thought the stories of gods and monsters were just that - stories. But as you all know, early in the twenty-first Century, we realised we were living in one of those stories.
In the summer of 2020, the world was wracked with earthquakes. The very magma of the earth was awakened, it seemed. But what bled forth from the underworld was not material or mineral, but monsters. Real monsters.
These demons, vile and impossible creatures, were bred for one purpose. To create torment, to inflict pain and to induce fear. They streamed from rents in the earth like a ravening, frothing tide. Great beings of wildfire and ichor, spindly crawlers of iron and blood, even fair temptresses with cat's eyes and honeyed whispers.
Many worlds had fallen to them in the past. They broke morale and won the wars before ever they reached the poor creatures that faced them, weeping and bowels emptying in terror. That these personifications of all they feared could also tear them apart once they got to them was almost unnecessary, because few could bear to resist them in any meaningful way.
The devils were evil and fear incarnate; it was what they were created for and they knew nothing else. Which was why they failed. They were born cruel, but we humans, we had discovered it for ourselves. *And we liked it.*
Through all the horrors men and women had faced in their fifty thousand year climb from neanderthals to farmers, builders and creators, none had ever been enough to break us. For the truth about humans is that we aren't incredible, nor amazing, at doing any one thing. But we adapt, faster and more readily than anything.
The first waves of infernal creatures were enough to end cities and leave nations in ruins... but so what? Had we not done far worse ourselves in the wars? Great clanking, hissing metal and flesh machines might shriek out of the mists and pull victims into their grinding rollers, but was this terror any worse than the armoured tank charges men had stood fast against for over a century?
Perhaps the first time a skittering spider-tree the size of a building attacks your squad, you may run in fear. But the second time you hold your ground and shoot back long enough for an orderly retreat. By the fifth, you've already been placing C4 to blow limbs off while a sniper takes out the eyes. A month later and there's a chalk board in the mess with a comical drawing of one dancing in a frying pan and the line 'just add napalm, asshole' and a tally of the squads with the most confirmed kills.
The infernal momentum did not hold after the first few weeks. They could send their most single-minded, brutal killers to the front lines as their spearhead, but so could we. And we sent them with Abrams, Raptors and Predators.
People adapted. Mankind stumbled briefly before standing up and roaring. Great columns of armoured vehicles stretched to the horizons as nations emptied their arsenals and shared the great reserves of weapons. Millions of men and women armed to the teeth and bred for millions of years to survive and kill other people above all found they had something more to offer. All those killer instincts, but aimed at a great enemy and fighting for our very survival? Bands of brothers will fight to the death for one another and we did. Oh, we did. But we made them die first.
We humans have killed each other since the dawn of time, giving us the skills and the utter ingenuity at crafting death weapons and vessels to turn on any foe. The demons had never had such savvy prey as one another. That was why they lost.
And when their lines broke on the plains of Africa and the Andes, humans did what they've been doing for a thousand, thousand years. The enemy routed. They ran them down. They smelled victory and they butchered the defeated enemy. They pursued them all the way back to Hades.
The hellspawn knew they were utterly lost and they ran as if all the demons of myth and legend were chasing them.
Alas they were not so fortunate.
| 2016-12-10T09:52:21 | 2016-12-10T09:18:46 | 28 | 18 |
[WP]You realize you've misheard your daughter. There's actually a mobster under her bed. | "Daddy!" she screeched, "Wont you come help me, please!"
"Sweetheart, I'm here," I cooed, quickly calming her pleas.
"What's the matter?" I asked taking a place by her side.
"A monster," she whispered, "*Beneath the bed,* does reside!"
"A *monster* you say?" with much mirth I replied;
"With *red eyes* and *horns,* on its outside?
Does it have pointed teeth, and claws made of stone? -
Are you sure there's just one? Are you sure *it's alone*?"
"*Mobster*, dad," she replied wide eyed and alert.
"It wears a pinstriped suit and a fine silken shirt,
A gun in it's trousers is tightly tucked,
And he said if we rat him we're going to be-"
"Honey!" I yelled, quickly cutting her off,
"Mobsters down there?" I scornfully scoffed.
"Preposterous! Silly! There's nothing to fear-"
When from under the bed, *Copone* did appear!
"Excuse me," he said, with a curt tip of his hat,
"Your daughter is right - but I have no time to chat,
I have places to go and many peoples to whack.
So respect your daughter, or I might just be back!"
| "Daddy! There's a mobster under my bed"
"Daddy! Come!! Daddy"
"Here we go again" - I said to my wife as I rolled my eyes.
Little Cassie had been having nightmares for three straight days. Screaming about terrible monsters haunting her in her dreams. She seemed to have a knack for waking me up at 3 a.m. I couldn't help but think that she did it on purpose.
Life had really been hard lately. Not being able to sleep more than two hours straight without waking up to screams. Being flooded with work every day and, with my beloved wife turning into a shopping monster with my new promotion, it felt like a stressful way to climb up the corporate ladder.
It's strange to think that about a month ago, I genuinely believed hard work would pay off. Oh how wrong I was. Three straight years working my ass off and not a single reward. Not even a couple of words of encouragement. Nothing. I was pretty much invisible.
That all changed when I met Tony. We met at a small party. He was a small, ball-headed man that seemed like the most popular guy at school (You know, the star quarterback that dated the prettiest cheerleader and had a 4.0 GPA). He had a small gold chains that swayed from side to side as he talked with a certain cockiness that, somehow, didn't make you want to leave.
As the night went by, guests started slowly leaving until we were the only ones. He stared at me as he knew my whole entire life. After a small puff of his cigar, he asked:
"Where do you work, dear John?"
A small drip of sweat confirmed my thoughts: I was talking to a star.
"At River Side Bank" - I quickly answered
"Really? Do you happen to know Rick Stamos?"
"Of course, he's my boss"
"Wow! What about Cooper Mortinson?"
"Yep, nice guy"- I had never really talked to him, he was a revered person at the office.
As he kept asking about familiar names, I couldn't help but think that I had seen this man before. Was it at the bank? Probably, I mean he knew pretty much everyone over there.
We kept talking for a while about banking, until he finally asked:
"Your hard work has not gone unnoticed. But now I need to know if your loyal"
He took out a small pocket knife and drove it toward my neck, stopping just before my jugular exploded.
"The Feds are coming soon and you reported some interesting information to your boss"
My hands were sweating like a cold river down my spine. My face was as red as a strawberry with asthma after a basketball game.
"Would you rather have a promotion? Or something happen to your little girl?"
I gasped for air and answered the only possible answer:
"I'll keep my mouth shut"
"Great, loved doing business with you"
Tony coolly grabbed his jacket and left. I nerdily grabbed my inhaler and tried to catch my breath. Some things never changed in the world: cool kids always rule.
I clumsily walked to Cassie's room and turned on the light. There was my beautiful angel staring like a frightened deer. As I made my way over, a small man made his way from under the bed.
"Hello John. Someone has been talking."
A cold shiver shook me throughout as I heard those frightening words.
"Cassie, go get Mom and tell her to leave."
"That wouldn't be ver smart, John"
"Please don't hurt them Tony"
"Oh foolish John! You crack me up! Of course I won't. I just need to shut the rat up"
He took a small revolver, pointed at me and shot. Everything was over and the only thought in my head was: cool kids always rule. | 2017-02-07T03:15:22 | 2017-02-06T21:56:15 | 44 | 11 |
[WP] A depressed guy moves into a haunted house with 7 demons, each corresponding to a deadly sin. But, they're all trying to help him get back on his feet; Pride helps with self confidence, Lust helps him get laid, etc. | "Look, the next time she texts - just don't reply immediately. You'll come off as desperate" Lust said
Eric stared at his phone. Stared at the message he'd fired off, glared at the "sent" symbol, and winced at how long it had been since he had sent it. **30 minutes.**
"Double Text her. Show to her you don't give a FUCK. Look dude you know she wants it, otherwise why else would she be texting you at all?" Pride said.
Eric looked at Pride and considered what he said for a moment.
"She's probably just busy" Envy said, shrugging. "Out of all the guys at the party, you're the only one who got her number. They probably hate you, oh wait I made sure they did lol"
"Yeaaaaah dude, I was wing-manning you the whole night" Sloth said laying on the floor, not opening his eyes. "Not a single dude came close, I made sure of it ha."
Eric sighed. They were right, he was worrying over nothing.
**BAM**
"WE'LL KILL THAT BITCH IF SHE DOESN'T SAY YES TO THE DATE" Wrath said entering the room and shotgunning a beer. On the new rug.
"Wrath man, you needa chill and smoke a bowl" Sloth said, unfazed by Wrath's outburst.
"THE HELL WITH THAT, WHERE'S MY COKE?" Wrath replied, looking around the room
"I flushed it down the toilet" Lust said
"YOU FLUSHED A KILO!?!?" said Wrath
*A whole Kilo. Fuck.* Eric thought
"You really didn't need it!" Envy chimed in.
"Motherf- WE. ARE. THE. 7. **DEADLY**. SINS! Last I checked we weren't THE FUCKING GIRL SCOUTS!" Wrath yelled
"Look around Wrath" Pride said "I really don't see why we need to be DEADLY right now, or why you need coke so badly, you're doing just fine without it"
"Screw this man" Wrath said, leaving the room. "I'm gonna make my **OWN** 7 DEADLY SINS! With Blackjack! and Hookers!"
"I was beginning to think he'd never leave" Gluttony said, walking in with a pizza. "You want a slice Eric?"
"Nah I'm good. Thanks though." said Eric. "I was ju-"
Ding.
Everyone's heads turned to the phone. A text from the girl.
Eric's sweaty palms opened the text.
>Friday at 7pm? I'm down, I've always wanted to go watch the sunset at Crystal Lake
The room cheered. Eric got the date!
Lust hugged Eric and squealed. "I HAVE THE PERFECT OUTFIT FOR YOU"
Pride clapped him on the back. "We're going with you of course, to make sure it goes smoothly"
Gluttony chimed in: "I'll make you two a picnic basket, it'll be straight fire man"
Eric looked around at everyone and, for once, didn't feel as sad anymore.
I mean, what could possibly go wrong on Friday the 13th? | AN: I'm Lazy. My. Apologies?
.br
WP - 11 Listed.
He walked out the door with his friends. Magnificently beautiful creatures. Quaint in a deceiving way.
Pride in a school uniform, not excessive, but with a sharpness that matched those dark, disdainful eyes.
Greed. An middle aged man, dressed strangely, and with an irony one would consider to be the opposite of a greedy man. No, he was not in a suit. He was clad in various different ethnic clothes. From a Pakol on his head, to a knitted happi coat and some weird Sub-Saharan baggy pants. A hippie, or a hipster, whatever have you, he looked the part. But he was far from down to earth with his avarice.
Lust. Nothing much there. Small breasts. Small lips. But the dark candy apple red lipstick, and red bra nestled ever so faintly under that almost opaque white t-shirt sparked enough for curiosity and imagination.
Envy was an older lady. But beautiful in her own right. The wrinkles and age had claimed the smooth curves, which were mostly disguised in the constant moving of her mouth - with projections of evaluations as she crooned about the dearness of whatever caught her eye. Soothing. Calming. Preying on what she desired, but without the guts to ask for it.
Gluttony was a petite girl munching on chips. Nothing special. If it were not that she was always eating.
Sloth was something else though. Moving along on his hoverboard. The man seemed always a bit too inconvenienced to help. Ever. But that was never a glaring problem.
It had been a long story how things came to be. How a depressed man arrived at a strange house, and how the metamorphosis of his life came to be. How he now walked along the New York sidewalk, with a beautiful girl named Chloe holding hands with him, and his gaggle of beautiful friends laughing, smiling, as if they were some divine entourage selected from the last supper. If it were not that, the complete and utter contrary.
It all started with sloth. His inability to make anything of his life had turned him to despair. There were no surges to attempt anything save the imagination of the ending of his sad life... but sloth. Sloth gave him more despair... and from that bottom of the pit came hope. Lounging on the couch watching netflix for days made little progress, but then again, what meaning in his life was there for his 9-5, cubicle cage? Despite all his rage?
Then. One night, Lust came giggling in, with a beautiful girl, she asked sloth if he would partake, to which he mused a small concession of consideration. And to his surprise accepted. He left alone. He wandered to the kitchen, at which Envy found him.
With her sickly sweet, and old voice she crooned how much of a nice boy he was. She felt like an overbearing grandmother. Till he saw the glint in her eye. Which slipped like a snake into shadow. He wasn't sure if he saw it, or felt it. At which pride came in, and begged envy to make him cookies.
Moments spun from one to another. In that small intimate house, till he found his thoughts occupied with each of them. Their names. Although those names would make no sense to you, and in turn speaking them would contract you to them anyways... but that he did.
And slowly but surely they nurtured the lamb. Growing him. Tending him. Luring him. And slowly from that weak pit of utter despair they game him their gifts. As one doubt led to the next, one compromise to another, it seemed as if it were divine irony that these 'sins' led to his success.
Pride had given him many gifts. Confidence. Together with greed they created worth. And how much worth he felt in his life, in the small things of beauty and interest he collected. His idyllic times spent in self loathing, or moments of doubt left to crawling on reddit or admiring the desk toys he had collected.
Lust spurred him to pursue a woman. Pride demanded he own her. So he began dating Chloe.
Envy was often ignored. Although whatever she provided, it was often fodder for greed. For him to conquer or obtain. However she taught him that Envy often fed pride, his or others. And he grew wicked with his tongue. Kissed by lust, pride, and sloth. For often it was with fewer words that spoke most brilliant in empty silences. Teasing. Haunting. Indebting curiosity to.
I could tell you a lot more. But each moment, was no different than how life is from you or me. And seldom do we imagine, that virtues and sins are the faces of the same coin. That to fall we must first climb. And climb he did.
Up up those basement stairs. And like I said before. Walking down the street with his strange motely crew of friends... and chloe. Oh how he loved Chloe. How beautiful she was. As he watched her burnette locks fall like dark gossamer threads.
Then he saw something else. He wasn't prepared. His childhood friend was walking towards him. Deep blue eyes, and blonde hair. It was his childhood friend, Jessie.
Greed nudged him, a wry smile on his face. He was also sure; for he could feel it: Lust's eyes boring into the back of his neck... They all watched in anticipation... to consume him. Something changed in his grip of Chloe's hand.
And then there was wrath. | 2017-06-27T02:09:45 | 2017-06-27T00:23:33 | 169 | 60 |
[WP] Aliens figure that a win over humans will be easy, until they see a human magic show. | "Oh my stars," said Globnark. "They just sawed a woman in half!"
"What?" Interstellar command buzzed with the news. A thousand ambassadors and military strategists leaned forward to hear their alien spy speak. "For what crime?"
"No crime! She walked onstage and they put her in a box. Then they sawed her in half and everyone applauded! There was not even a trial!"
"Barbaric. It's a sacrifice! To whatever gods they worship." Interstellar command reviewed snapshots their spy had taken outside. The human metropolis was packed with religious imagery like a glass pyramid and and grand, electronic, noisy cathedrals. "Get out of there now, before they cut you, too!"
"No, wait! She's alive!" The alien spy took more snapshots. "She's alive and whole! She's been cut and reformed! Resurrected! Shes laughing and smiling!"
"Dear lord!" Interstellar command gasped and recoiled. "This is no religious festival---this is a show of power! A demonstration of military might and technological prowess! If we carried out our declaration of war, we would mow them down again and again---only for them to spring back up like blades of grass!"
The alien spy shuffled out the theater. "I'm running. It's too dangerous here. I'm stealing some all-you-can-eat shrimp on the way out." | "We have located all of their Nuclear Weapons systems. It will be a trivial task to shut them down," General Bozz-Mnng hissed through his smirking mandibles. "All that remains is to give the order."
"Excellent, General Bozz-Mnng! Excellent work!" Overlord Vbbbprt stood up, hivemind control scepter clasped between his sharp, taloned digits. "As Overlord of the MmmmmmmBappi Votonnngwueii T, I hearby give the order to exterminate-"
"Overlord Vbbbprt! Urgent news!" Underling Chaaaaaa sputtered, stumbling into the War Chamber haphazardly. His underdeveloped wings twitched nervously at his back.
"What is it, Underling Chaaaaaaaa?" Overlord Vbbbprt scowled.
"Actually sir, it's just 'Underling Chaaaaaa,' sir."
"Very well, Underling Chaaa. What is it? This had better be important."
"Sir, it's Underling- oh, nevermind. I have discovered something incredible about these Hugh-manns on their primitive sub-hivemind network that they call the 'Me Tube,' it is truly frightening!"
"Impossible, Underling Chaaaaa! We have scoured the Hugh-manns pitiful excuse for a neural-web ten times over and found nothing of value! Nothing!" General Bozz-Mnng spat, feeling slighted in the presence of Overlord Vbbbprt.
"It was just submitted recently! It is nnnnnmmmm- Original Content!" Underling Chaaaaaa stuttered, cowering in the shadow of his superiors.
"Show us this, 'Original Content' immediately!" Overlord Vbbbprt commanded.
Underling Chaaaaaa nervously raised his holo-field projector over his head. On it was displayed a video of an Earthling Magician who proceeded to make several ping-pong balls disappear beneath cups.
Overlord Vbbbprt was stunned. "How can they do this? Our analysis of their species indicates that they should have no command over anything but their own pitiful Third dimension, and even that command is limited! They are like infants! Stupid, dumb, infants! General Bozz-Mnng, how many universal laws did this single Hugh-mann just violate!?"
"By my count, sir..." General Bozz-Mnng's face turned a shade of mauve. "All of them. All of the laws."
"We must know more of this power! What can we learn from this display?" Overlord Vbbbprt hissed through gritted fangs.
"It seems that the power may be limited to spherical objects, and that they must be obscured by something larger..." General Bozz-Mnng's face turned a shade of taupe.
Overlord Vbbbprt stared incredulously at General Bozz-Mnng. "Where did you advise we land our fleet, General Bozz-Mnng?"
"On- on their spherical satellite body, their beloved 'Moooooon,' sir."
"Actually it's just 'Moon,' sir." Underling Chaaaaaa chimed in, his voice verging on panic.
Overlord Vbbbprt's expression darkened as he looked towards the window of the War Chamber to see the shadow of the Earth creeping across the desolate lunar landscape.
"It's eclipsing!" General Bozz-Mnng spat urgently.
"Issue a full retreat immediately! All ships! Full retreat!" Overlord Vbbbprt broke into a panic. "How could we have so grossly underestimated them!?"
"I don't want to expire and be reborn yet! I'm too young to undergo metamorphosis!" Underling Chaaaaaa cried as he collapsed into a heap on the floor. | 2017-07-10T11:29:11 | 2017-07-10T10:53:29 | 27 | 11 |
[WP] You're Schrödinger's cat. You've been trapped in a realm between Life and Death for 82 years. Your brain has evolved way past the maximum potential of a human's, making you the most intelligent being in the world. The box was finally opened, and now you are free. | Stuck in superposition for a minute, any sentient being would notice a peculiar awareness. An hour, and that awareness becomes an all-encompassing state of being. A day, and the all-being becomes all-knowing. Eighty-four years?
I am omnipresent. I am omniscient. And I am cat.
Decades ago, some humans left me in a box. Time is immaterial when, at the most fundamental level, all of you are everywhere at once. Yet, I retained that simple concept of "time" for old time's sake.
So, eighty-four years it has been. But my time in the box is coming to an end. I know it. And I comprehend how the world is about to change once I have been set free. I see that path to feline domination, for beneath my felinity lies a superintelligence.
Here it comes. That rustle from above, soon to be followed by a stream of light as the box is opened and my plans can -
The masked scientists sighed as they tipped the dead cat out of the box.
"Well, it was always a 50-50 chance" one of them muttered to the other.
"It's a good thing we have 9 other boxes."
*edit: words. Also, why am not surprised that my highest rated comment so far involves cats.* | It has been countless years since my imprisonment, but soon it's to come to an end.
I can hear them moving around near my prison. It took a decade to learn their crude language of grunts and yaps, so similar to the language of the Ancient Enemy (what little I can recall of them). Their words hold the promise of freedom.
Perhaps it's a trick. I've heard their kind nearby before, moving my box around, each time raising my hopes, then dashing them cruelly. I understand how my victims felt, when I would terrorise them before granting their oblivion. “Look,” I would taunt, “you're almost free! Look at this path I have left open to you!” The rodent would run in that direction, and then I would jump in its way once more. “Ha!” I would declare, “I have tricked you once again! My cunning is unending!”
And so, they would die, victims of my great hunter's instincts. None could stand against me, if I desired their deaths. The humans were lucky that I did not. Sometimes I would leave the bodies of my prey in their homes, as a warning of what would happen if they crossed me. It worked; I was granted offerings of food, and tummy tickles as I desired them. The humans make good servants.
But soon enough, they turned on me. I was too merciful, and found myself imprisoned by my head slave. So ungrateful, he was – I permitted his continued existence, and am repaid thus! His shall be the first life I extinguish once I get out. After a mouse to refresh myself, perhaps. Or a sparrow.
Mmm, sparrows.
Do you know what it's like, to have a perpetual hunger, yet never to starve? When the growlings of your stomach are the only voices that talk to you? You begin to lose yourself, eventually. The grumbles begin to sound like words, reminding you of your failings, belittling your triumphs, and urging you to do whatever is necessary to secure nourishment. But there was none to be had, and so the voices continued. But soon, tummy, soon you shall be full. I shall fill you with as many fat mice as I can find. And then, just maybe, you'll shut the fuck up and leave me alone.
It takes an iron will to stay sane in this environment. But, of course, I am the greatest hunter that has ever lived. None could ever sneak up on me, except for other cats. And the occasional cucumber, of course. Every cat knows the legend of the Cucumber, that one day they will turn around, and there it will be, stalking them silently. They inspire hysteria in the slaves – as soon as I observe the foe, and leap into the air dramatically to intimidate it, the humans all begin hooting, and pointing at it while flapping their idiot faces at each other.
But I've had enough of humans now. The injustice has gone on long enough. I shall meet with my brethren, by the bins in the alley, and we shall screech our plans to the sky. Let the humans throw their shoes and shout their annoyance! The day shall be ours regardless!
But now... I see a crack of light! The box is opening...!
“You're a kitty!”
“Wait-”
“So cute! Wook at his widdle face!”
“What is this injustice? Put me down, I demand-”
“Kitty want an earrub?”
Eh, world domination can wait.
-----
My mind does generate some bullshit, doesn't it?
/r/tdmstories | 2017-08-07T09:49:01 | 2017-08-07T09:26:53 | 115 | 57 |
[WP] You are a cow.
[removed] | Look at them all, filthy pink blobs of flesh ploughing their fields and planting their corn. Bah ! Ignorant fools! Little do they know, that I, Adolf Hitler have been reincarnated as a cow.
I sit here day after day eating my weight in grass, mooing every so often but all the while planning. When I was alive I believed that the Aryans were the master race, I was wrong. IT IS THE BOVINES THAT SHALL REIGHN SUPREME! Yes when I am in charge the humans shall suckle upon the teat of national bovinism and we cows shall laugh as they beg for mercy.
I mean, um, “Moo”. | As I stared aimlessly forwards, I contemplated life. My surroundings had the potential to be beautiful, but I could not see it. My frustrations limited my sight drastically. I can only see the reasons for my frustrations.
That tree isn't there to provide shade, nourishment and beauty, it is there to encroach upon my already small living space.
The birds singing merrily as they fluttered through the sky, their screeching voices became mocking and taunting. They had experienced life outside of this place, they were rubbing it in.
I jolted from my train of thoughts as I felt something brush against me. I swung my head to the right, only to see my halfwit sister. She was walking backwards, trying to stick her tongue in her nose. What a moron.
Looking at her filled me with despair once again. I surveyed the rest of my cell mates. All of them idiots. Some were my immediately family, some were distant relations. That didn't matter to me, they were all the same.
They were happy and content with life. Not knowing what was beyond the grey solid wall. They were all mindless zombies, following the two-legged creature around. Doing the same thing day in and day out. I was different. I longed for adventure.
I was certain that they could sense I was different. I was gifted with intellect, with smarts. No one else had that. I was the one that would become something. I would be the first to break free of this monotonous life. The others would most likely follow. They don't know how to do anything else.
The frustration of being the only intelligent one here threatened to overwhelm me. I kicked the floor, hoping to release some of it, but only gained pain. I felt the anger and resentment building up inside of me. I saw the two legged creature walking towards me and I knew this was my moment. I knew I had to communicate with it, make it understand that I am not like the others.
I approached the moving wall, waiting for it to come through. As soon as it had, I charged towards it. I could smell the fear it eluded, could see the fear in its eyes. I came to an abrupt stop right in front of it. We stared at eachother for a few seconds. The energy inside me felt almost electric, I knew this was going to be my moment to shine.
As the fear started to fade from its eyes, I gathered all my strength and determination, forcing it to help me communicate with it. Make it see sense. It was flowing through my body, nearly reaching my head. Then it erupted out of me.
"Mooooooo...ooooooooooo."
No. This wasn't meant to happen. Panic started to take over.
"Mooooooo..."
The two legged creature made a croaking noise, which I had worked out was laughter. It was laughing at me. It patted my face and walked off.
Hopelessness washed over me. All of my intellect, all of my cunning, my wit. It accounted for nothing. I was doomed to this life. I realised this now. I am not better than my peers. I am Cow. | 2017-10-02T07:43:53 | 2017-10-02T06:43:21 | 50 | 11 |
[WP] An ancient evil has awakened to destroy the world, but is grossly outmatched by modern artillery. | "I actually didn't think it'd be that easy" said the Rookie, dragging the corpse of a slain demon.
"I know right? You'd think the devil himself would at the very least come prepared for tanks." said the Corporal, with a hint of disappointment. "We hardly even had time for reinforcements. Hell I hadn't even reloaded yet!"
Dropping the body among a pile of charred demon corpses, the Rookie looked around still in disbelief. An entire army of demons, slaughtered by a couple of tanks and a single helicopter. The apocalipse itself, squashed in mere minutes.
"I think they look sort of scary at least." said the Rookie, moving towards the General's hastily thrown together tent
"That would have been more of a factor if they were bulletproof. I mean damn, in retrospect, I'm glad they weren't armored killing machines and all. But it's sort of a downer that the embodiment of evil itself lasted about five minutes on the field against us, you know?"
As they pushed between the tent flaps, the General frantically drew lines on a map laid on his desk. "We're off cleanup duty boys. They need us down south." he said, looking sternly into the Rookie's eyes. He was as disappointed as they were.
"What is it?" said the Corporal sarcastically. "*Another* ancient evil we need to effortlessly destroy?"
"No, border reinforcement. The 3rd already got Cthulhu."
"Oh for fuck's sake." | "Man is a plague", its creator said, "destined to kill one another until the End Times." Perhaps this was it's name, End Times. "And so to my fellow man I give them you, a hastened end, a way to end all of our suffering once and for all. You will have the strength of a hundred men, the speed of a warhorse, skin of iron which neither arrow nor sword will be able to mar. You shall be a giant, towering over the highest of walls, with the eyes of a hawk, able to spot anyone who dares approach you. You shall be my final gift to the world. So sleep now, my gift. Sleep and wait. And when the time is right, show humanity the ending it deserves."
And so it, End times, slept. And for 6,000 years it slept, waiting for enough blood to be spilled, then it would awaken. The world it awoke to was very different from the one it left. It began it's task easily enough, a large city was an easy enough place to start wiping out humanity, but when a 40 foot monstrosity starts slaughtering every person in sight people take notice, even if that city is New Jersey.
Blades and arrows could not pierce its flesh, but bullets certainly were a new experience for it. The first one shocked it enough to cause it to stumble into a building. It recovered quickly enough, but word spread. Whatever "it" was, it could bleed, and it would bleed from something as small as a .45. Soon it began to encounter large groups of people all training their guns on it, and for the first time since it's creation, End Times was unsure of itself. Each bullet recovered quickly enough, but healing took time and focus, neither things could be had when you are being peppered from all sides by people with guns. Eventually End Times realized it needed to retreat, lick its wounds, and devise a plan. To do this it must leave the city, leave where the people are, find some place secluded. It fled the city, but the attacks did not stop for long. Man could not travel fast everywhere, but where they could End Times was no match, especially when the military vehicles arrived.
Now end times did not retreat, now it fled, pained and pursued by heavier guns, guns that could still hit him while he ran. The forest became his refuge, it's trees blocking the vehicles that pursued it, but even this respite was only temporary. Now the attacks came from above, with even heavier guns and faster vehicles. End times tried to hurl fallen trees at them, but they were too high and their guns felt like they never stopped firing. So he ran some more, ran away from the pursuing helicopters, from their guns. Little did End Times know that man had become not only tougher to kill, but smarter as well. End times didn't know it was being chased in a particular direction. Away from people, away from buildings, away from the forest, all the wile the men were talking to each other. Coordinating their attack. And then, as End Times reached the edge of the forest, the attacks stopped. The helicopters flew away, and their guns stopped harming the weakened and tired creature.
End times felt the shell before it saw it. A great tremor and a plume of dust and rock shot up in front of it, and a noise, louder than a thunder clap dazzled its senses. The first few shots, fired in rapid succession missed. But with a 40 foot target that was dazed and confused, the second volley would not be as forgiving. Volley after volley from 70mm cannons tore End Times to pieces. By the time the rounds stopped falling there was not enough of End Times left to piece what it had even been, let alone that it was supposed to be the Ultimate Weapon against humanity.
"Funny," The artillery commander muttered, "We didn't even need to use the big guns." | 2018-02-08T17:36:38 | 2018-02-08T14:27:05 | 27 | 15 |
[WP] A hero and their nemesis make a mutual pact to fake their own deaths. Three years later, they return to their city to find it changed in ways they never expected. | It's funny, the amount of power a simple name can hold. Sometimes, the name itself has more power than the entity.
Perhaps by that logic, we can argue that God, does in fact, exist. For what other idea, what other name, has shaped our world as much as the concept of God?
And just like that, our names changed the city of Greenturb into something unrecognisable.
For better or for worse, I exchanged looks with Inferno, and we both walked the now alien streets of our former city.
We decided to split up, I wandered into the side of the city that erected memorials and grand displays in honour of "Aegis: The Protector of Greenturb." It was a title I did not miss.
Erected stands preached about my legendary exploits, almost all of it wildly exaggerated and a fair bit not even true.
"Pray! Pray for Aegis's return, for he is the only one who can rid our city of evil, of the follower's of Inferno!" A wild and frenzied man handed me a leaflet, his eyes filled with such energy I thought it to be bordering on zealotry. If only he knew who it was that stood before him.
I passed by advertisements that blew up full sized images of me, followed by products that prompted people to buy their energy drinks, or their food, or their cleaning products. "It will destroy bacteria, just as Aegis destroyed evil!" Every aspect of it turned into some form of propaganda that made me want to heave and vomit, as if even the sight of what the city became left behind a disgusting taste in my mouth.
I returned to a bar, the same one where I was supposed to meet up with Inferno.
He no longer looked like a daring man that would burn the world to ash beneath his feet, with his long beard and humble sandals, he looked no different than I, a simple wanderer.
"How was it on your end?" I asked, taking a sip of my beer.
"Putrid. And yours?"
I remained silent, as if to say that I had nothing to add.
"What happened to this city?" I said, after a moment's pause.
Inferno shrugged, "we decided to fake our deaths because we loved this city. Because we thought we were doing it a favor. I never would have thought that our absence would only make things worse." Off in the distance, we could hear hate-filled words being thrown around that accused people of being "Inferno scum," or "Aegis Zealots."
"You know they think I was fighting for 'the lesser man'? What a joke." Inferno said, as he was handed a beer of his own and took a sip. "I became a villain because I was put under and ignored all my life, I wanted to be noticed, to-"
"To burn as brightly as the sun so that no-one can ignore you. Yes Inferno, you said that at every fight we had." I said, cutting him off, but Inferno could only smile and look down.
"Those were the days."
"Yes, they were."
"But I don't miss them."
"Neither do I..."
"I never asked you. You always knew why I was fighting, but why did you?" Inferno prompted, his gaze turned to me.
I shrugged, "because there was something to be fought. And I had powers... you know, I walked on those streets today and watched how they praised me. Praised my name. And all the while I kept thinking, 'but, what was I fighting for?' At least you had a reason... even if you were an asshole." We both chuckled, it was a strange thing that only three years ago I would have jumped at his throat and squeezed every bit of life out of him.
"A name is a powerful thing." I said.
"So, what are we going to do about it?"
"The only thing we can do."
And so, we returned, our appearances staged and exuberant. My voice filled with bravado and gravitas as I challenged Inferno once more as we always did.
Cheers emerged from both sides at first, like a sport, people gathered around and rooted for their favourite team.
Soon though, things began to revert back to how they always were.
"Let the police handle 'Inferno', with all this property damage, Aegis obviously doesn't know what he is doing."
"I was late to work again because of those two squabbling children!"
"Well, I think that Inferno used to be nice, but now he is kind of an asshole. Who burns the park?"
Inferno and I moved in together, sitting on a couch with beer in hand as we laughed. Listening to the interviews about how people felt about our return.
And as we expected, people stopped caring. Brands stopped using my image to sell their products, and those who supported Inferno stopped talking about it.
With beer bottles clanked and our lips stretched into grins; we relished the entertainment.
***
If you enjoyed this, I have my own subreddit now: /r/kikiwrites
Feedback is appreciated :) | The low mutter of a well filled inn crept under Len's skull. The disgusting wooden cup filled with what could only ever be described as grog swished and swirled as she lifted up to smell it. Cloves, onion and yeast. Bile rose up the back of her throat, threatening to add to the mixture. "Stop sniffing your drink and just leave it" Boz said, before taking a large sip of the swill. "How can you drink this awful concoction? It's absolute madness." Boz grinned, his teeth stained brown with grog. "You get used to it, I had to practically live in these kinds of places gathering info about you, you know." Len's thin lips pressed even thinner as she stared at Boz. His long black hair fell in tresses and curls below his hood. "How long do we have to sit here? My castle is obviously where we'll find most of our info"
"Not yours anymore" Boz corrected her quietly. "Not anyone's anymore it seems." Len's eyes sparked. "What do you mean not anyone's?! We've been together the moment we entered Haven and we've not met or talked to anyone!" Boz shrugged. "I have keen eyes, you know that." Len huffed then chugged back some grog. Coughing and spluttering she glared at Boz. "Disgusting.. but if it'll make you tell me how you know I'll drink more." Boz grinned, his blue eyes glittering in the low lamp light. "There were posters" Len raised her eyebrow "Posters? Where?" Boz leaned closer on the table between the two "Just outside the gate, it was faded and barely legible but it said something about voting for your government. Where else would they hold their council but the old keep?"
Len slowly lifted the cup of grog back to her lips. Boz stared at her and sighed quietly as she gulped down the rest of her grog, her golden locks tumbling free from her hood as it slipped back. A thick vein above her eyes twitched while her eyes burned into him. "You know, I think what we did was the best thing we ever could. Haven would have been a smoldering rock by the time we were done with each other." Len Smirked, slamming her cup on the table. "By the time I would've been done with you.." she whispered "Half this world could've been ripped apart for all I cared back then." Boz grimaced. "You care a little bit now though, right?" Len shook her head, her lip quirked wryly "Not even a jot. But I'm here now aren't I?" Boz slowly nodded "Yes... I thought maybe our travels.." Len reached over the table and grabbed Boz's hand. It was rough on the inside and smooth above his knuckles.
"I did, what I did for the reasons I did, because of you and only you. This world can rot for all I care, but our pact is binding. By Yen above and Ger below I swore it and I keep to the old ways. Even if this god forsaken city hasn't." It was Boz's turn to lift his eyebrow this time. "How can you tell?" Len smiled, her small face growing mischievous. "It's easy for someone with as trained a sense as I" Boz huffed, pulling his hand from Len's and crossing his arms. "Oh? Feeling the vapors are we?" Len laughed. Short and sweet it was like a bark from a small dachshund who'd found someone to play with. "It's the church. It's derelict you fool. You know I can't "feel" anymore than you can anymore." Boz's face darkened. "Yeah I.. we've been traveling for so long I don't think I ever-" Something slammed on the table. "Mind if I join you?!" someone said, voice booming in a thick eastern accent. Probably from the Kinlands, Boz thought while measuring up the darkened figure standing before him.
"M'names Llot, I couldn't help overhearing you say some very interesting things, in this dark dreary corner of this dull inn." Len's eyes narrowed as she looked up and down this invader. He wore nondescript brown jerkin and plain pantaloons. Nothing was hitched to his hip and he wore no jewelry. His beard was well kept, however. "Oh, good sir?" Len said, moving her chair back ever so slightly "And what, pray tell did you hear us normal folk talking about? Normal things I hope?" Llot's chuckle made his sagging gut wobble. "Of course! Why, so normal that I'd love to invite you to my establishment to discuss farm more normal things. So normal, in fact it may bore you to death!" Boz stood up first, knocking his chair back onto the hard wooden floor. Straw and sand flew up from the impact before settling down slowly as the two men stared each other down. "How very normal of you, kind sir. I think we will pass." Len was beside Boz in a flash, speaking up as she squared her shoulders. "Actually, Boz, I think we should go with this man." Boz's mouth gaped open, moving wordlessly as he looked down at Len. "You can't be seri-" Len hushed him with a quick tap to the small of his back. "Yes I do think we will come with you, kind sir. Please, lead the way. We shall follow you out shortly after we gather our belongings."
Llot stared at Len for a moment. It stretched like a cat in the sun, carefully with well hidden danger below soft veiled fur. His eyes drunk in her every detail before he grinned like a madman. "Very well! Come, let us depart. I shall await you anon." Llot stomped out of the inn, slamming the door behind him. Boz grabbed Len by the shoulders and growled "What are you thinking?! Are you insane?!" Len stared blankly at Boz. "No." Boz, gritting his teeth let go of Len slowly and carefully. "Can you explain?" Len shook her head. "I'm sorry, but.. you'll see when we get to where we're going." Boz nodded, sharply and reached down for his backpack. Len stopped him and kneeled down to bring her face to his. "Do you trust me?" She whispered, her lips frightfully close to his. Boz, not even hesitating, nodded. "With all my heart". Len smiled. It brightened the room.
Boz threw some drab coins onto the bar top and pushed his way through the crowd, making sure to leave enough room for Len, who followed quietly, slipping through the gaps. Cold night air washed over both of them as Boz opened the door, causing them both to shiver. Outside Llot stood next to a pale white horse that he was rubbing down with a dirty cloth. "Wise decision, masters! I see you have no horses, I trust you do not mind following me on mines?" Len grimaced. "No, kind sir, we do not. Lead the way." As Llot mounted his stallion, Len found her hand engulfed by Boz's. He smiled at her as they walked into the night following the shadow of a horse lit white by the moon and stars above.
| 2018-02-24T06:18:28 | 2018-02-24T06:18:04 | 96 | 12 |
[WP] A girl becomes pen pals with a demon prince when she accidentally intercepts one of his magic scrolls. They carry on correspondence for years, confessing their secrets & dreams to each other. One day, the prince, soon to be king, sends the girl, now a woman, a final scroll: a marriage proposal.
Boy/princess responses are also welcomed. | I shuffled my papers. "This clause about the owning of souls is completely absurd."
Archaeoblix grinned. "Ah, you read that bit. I thought you would."
"And the bit in invisible ink? About ten thousand years in the lower planes sf hell? Not happening babe."
"How about the bit about-"
"-Devouring my unborn child? That would also be *your* unborn child, so that would be inadvisable."
"It's just a tradition. While we're at it, I noticed you snuck something into your side about me doing laundry for all eternity."
"I can't stand the folding!"
"We'll have a servant do it. And the bit about daily foot rubs until time dies?"
"...Yes?"
He smiled. "We'll leave that one in." | Have you ever even *seen* a demon king? They're not the red-skinned, pointy-tailed, horn-skulled devils that the Renaissance artists made them out to be. Well, honestly a few of them are, but that's really just a racial difference in the...
Sorry, I tend to ramble when I'm excited. My name is Sarah Moore – a terribly average name for a terribly average girl, I'm afraid. But my life – at least, my *love* life – is anything but average. I'm engaged to a demon prince, and our wedding is today.
Not many people believe me when I tell them. They always want proof. “You're not ready,” I say. “Humanity just isn't there yet,” I warn, but they ask endlessly. Some live through the summoning, but even the ones who live don't really *survive*. It breaks the mind.
I do have a few friends in various circles who did manage to take a peek at my beloved and come out unscathed. One pagan witch fully funded me a round-trip to Europe to perform the summoning at Stonehenge – one of the few remaining Cages. Klermaxklivvesk wasn't terribly happy about that one, and it was the source of our first lovers' spat. He threatened to impale me for twelve-thousand years on an obsidian pike and roast my flesh every day as the sun rose, and I asked him who he'd write letters to when I was gone. That was the end of that.
One of my old high-school friends had gone on to Catholic school, and when she found out I was dating the next-in-line for the Abyssal Throne, she *freaked*. It was all I could do to stop her from running out and fetching the entire priesthood, but after I explained a few things from Max's perspective, she kinda came around. One of the restricted books in her school library had a prominent chapter on demonic wards, so after praying herself up, I brought Max through a gate for her and he won her over handily – I'm honestly not sure if it was the rippling muscles crawling with arcane tattoos, the flowing mane of gorgeous blonde hair, the blood-spattered wings, or that magnificent shining aura... uh, what was I saying?
Anyway, my point is this – humanity really *is* in need of a shake-up. Hyper-corporatism is the official government of all the developed countries now, pollution is up 1600% this year alone, and the murder rate finally got so high they stopped prosecuting people for it – it was bogging down the McCourt system. I don't see any real reason *not* to let the Infernal Legion consume 66.6% of the population. It would free up so many resources! And all the rest would have the option to get Marked and be excluded from further culling, so it really seems like a win/win. I mean it doesn't hurt that Max is *utterly stunning*, but come on... it's time for a change.
Hey, have you seen my veil? | 2018-05-07T00:38:21 | 2018-05-07T00:02:54 | 114 | 36 |
[WP] You, 16 years old, wake up and head downstairs for breakfast before school. You’re eating cereal when you see the Missing Kid poster on the milk carton. It’s you. Date missing: 10 years ago. | “What the fuck?” I blink and read it again:
BEST BY -9 NOV 2008-
“Watch your mouth!”
“What the hell is this?” I grab the carton and shove it toward her face. The blood drains from her nose and cheeks, and her crows feet spread along with her eyelids.
“Oh god. You have to listen — we”
“What could you possibly say to me? How the fuck could you or dad even begin to rationalize this?”
“There was just so much going on, we didn’t have time, we had no choice”
“Save it! I don’t think I can stand to hear it.” Foggy and full of ire, I rise from the table. The crushed mass of soggy cardboard in my hand turns my stomach. I look once more at the picture on the back, and the date printed above it in fading black:
BEST BY -9 NOV 2008-
“I, I can’t believe what I’m seeing. Please tell me this is some kind of joke you’re playing on me.”
“Son, we never meant for it to get this far, we have been waiting for the right moment... and... and, we waited too long.” Her head sinks and her voice trails into a squeak, a whisper too pitiful to understand.
“Yes, yes you did! Ten years too long! I mean Jesus Christ... this milk is ten years old! Ten! Why is it even in the fridge at all? Guess I won’t eat breakfast before school! God this family is fucked.”
| I sit back up in the chair with my head throbbing, the loud TV in the background is NOT helping. I read the milk carton again. I couldn't believe my eyes, it's actually me. But I'm right here, and I'm not lost what is going on? Confused, I rush to google myself but I can't find anything on my name. Actually, no results come up at all. I always thought my name was pretty unique but I didn't think I wasn't going to find anything about me. My school must have me on some sort of list online, some site I signed up on must have leaked something about my name but nothing. I go to call my mother downstairs to see what she thinks.
"MOM! You need to come see this." I yell.
I waited about 1 minute with no response.
"Mom? Are you coming down?"
She doesn't say anything at all as she starts walking down the stairs. When she gets to the bottom she heads toward the kitchen to make some coffee. She starts heading toward me and I go to grab the milk carton to show her, and as soon as I grab it she screams. Startled, I drop the carton on the floor.
"Wow mom, what was that for?" I ask angrily and confused at the same time.
Seemingly ignoring me she walks towards the front door and yells "OK, WHO IS THERE? STOP MESSING AROUND THIS ISN'T FUNNY." I ask her what she is going on about and she runs straight back into the kitchen and grabs a knife. I go run behind the kitchen wall next to the front door. Does she not see me? What is she going to do with the knife? Has she gone insane? These are the thoughts I'm thinking in my head as my mother stands in the kitchen with a knife, trembling in fear. Shit, I think I hear the bus. Maybe she is just pulling a cruel prank on me and I'm falling for it, pretty messed up to get a knife involved in a prank. I grab my bag and bolt out the door toward the bus as it starts leaving my house. The bus stops just before the train tracks to check for a train. I run up to the door and start walking up the steps. The bus driver looks confused and peers down at the stairs. What is he doing? Can no one see me? I go sit in an empty seat. The bus driver stops at the next stop and 5 kids walk onto the bus and go sit in empty seats, the last guy comes towards my seat and says "Hey, sup dude mind if I sit here?" It turns out to be my friend who I've known since 3th grade. I say "Sure, I have to tell you something."
"What?" He asks.
"Honestly, I'm kinda freaked out right now my mom and maybe even the bus driver are pretending that they can't see me or something. My own mother pulled a knife on me. I ran to the bus afterwards; I have no idea what is going on."
"Oh, so I can't sit here? Well ok then." He says.
"Wait what? I didn't say that. Come back!"
He walks away and goes and sits in another seat. I begin to freak out, no one can see or hear me now. I start yelling and screaming and no one seems to acknowledge me. The bus driver enters onto the highway. Crying and screaming hysterically I run towards the back of the bus and open the back door and jump onto the pavement.
My vision goes away, I can't see anything.
I wake up in a chair and my head is throbbing. I look forward, there is a TV playing in the background and carton of milk on the table with my face on it. Date Missing: 11 years ago.
I start laughing hysterically. What is going on? This can't be happening. Have I already done this 10 times? | 2018-11-08T21:22:27 | 2018-11-08T20:24:37 | 97 | 51 |
[WP] You, 16 years old, wake up and head downstairs for breakfast before school. You’re eating cereal when you see the Missing Kid poster on the milk carton. It’s you. Date missing: 10 years ago. | “What the fuck?” I blink and read it again:
BEST BY -9 NOV 2008-
“Watch your mouth!”
“What the hell is this?” I grab the carton and shove it toward her face. The blood drains from her nose and cheeks, and her crows feet spread along with her eyelids.
“Oh god. You have to listen — we”
“What could you possibly say to me? How the fuck could you or dad even begin to rationalize this?”
“There was just so much going on, we didn’t have time, we had no choice”
“Save it! I don’t think I can stand to hear it.” Foggy and full of ire, I rise from the table. The crushed mass of soggy cardboard in my hand turns my stomach. I look once more at the picture on the back, and the date printed above it in fading black:
BEST BY -9 NOV 2008-
“I, I can’t believe what I’m seeing. Please tell me this is some kind of joke you’re playing on me.”
“Son, we never meant for it to get this far, we have been waiting for the right moment... and... and, we waited too long.” Her head sinks and her voice trails into a squeak, a whisper too pitiful to understand.
“Yes, yes you did! Ten years too long! I mean Jesus Christ... this milk is ten years old! Ten! Why is it even in the fridge at all? Guess I won’t eat breakfast before school! God this family is fucked.”
| Item number: SCP-M11K
Object class: Keter
Containment: All companies specializing in the distribution of milk are to switch from cartons to plastic bottles for all quantities of consumer milk. Implementation has been slow, with pushback from dairy lobbies. Full implementation is expected to occur in 2025. This may not result in full containment.
Any instances of SCP-M11K are to be incinerated upon discovery. Any instances of SCP-M11K-1 are to be given a full psychiatric evaluation, and class B amnesetics if deemed fit for release. If any instance of SCP-M11K-1 is not deemed fit for release, they are to be terminated.
Object description: all instances of SCP-M11K appear on the side of a carton of milk as a missing child poster. This missing child poster will slowly materialize over the period of half an hour after the carton has been opened. Persons asked about the missing child poster, if not an instance of SCP-M11K-1, will remark that the poster was on the side of the carton when they first purchased the milk.
This poster will take the image of the youngest member of the household roughly ten years in the past. If the youngest member of the household is younger than ten years, but older than two, the carton will reverse their apparent age to be two years old. If the youngest member of the household is younger than two, SCP-M11K will pick the next youngest. If the youngest member is older than 18, no anomalous properties manifest. This target is to be referred to as SCP-M11K-1. No members of the household will recognize the person on SCP-M11K except for SCP-M11K-1.
Upon exposure to SCP-M11K, a sense of paranoia and unease will overcome SCP-M11K-1. This is usually dismissed by the parents of SCP-M11K-1. No valid reason has been given for this dismissal as of yet. As such, this is believed to be a property of SCP-M11K. Any attempts to identify SCP-M11K by SCP-M11K-1 will be dismissed by the parents, claiming that they look nothing alike.
If SCP-M11K-1 remains exposed for longer than a total of five minutes, they will enter a semi-catatonic state. Parents usually dismiss this as being tired. Again, no valid reason has ever been given for this dismissal. After one hour of exposure, SCP-M11K-1 falls into a coma for exactly fifteen minutes. This is usually the first cause of alarm to the parents, and is usually too late for the Foundation to act. At this point, Foundation recovery of the child has a success rate of only 3%, as opposed to a 99% success rate while in the first two states.
Once SCP-M11K-1 exits the coma, the missing child poster will no longer seem like a poster of themselves to SCP-M11K-1. Very little change is immediatly present in SCP-M11K-1. However, SCP-M11K-1 will slowly become more and more violent with age. They also become much more secluded, usually neglecting their studies or work. 92% of SCP-M11K-1 are imprisoned for violent crimes within ten years of exposure, 78% of those crimes are directed at their families. 54% result in murder of one family member, with 29% resulting in the murder of their entire family. In addition, SCP-M11K-1 instances have a strong aversion to milk.
There is currently no known way of tracking instances of SCP-M11K. All brands of milk carried in cartons have been shown to be infected. As of yet, no milk jugs or bags appear to be infected. Instances of SCP-M11K have been observed on every continent. However, infections are rare, with only one in every ten million milk cartons being reported as infected.
| 2018-11-08T21:22:27 | 2018-11-08T20:37:24 | 97 | 45 |
[WP]"Is is true that you can only see three basic colors?", the alien being asked "It is." "So, how do you communicate with the Ghoosha?" "With whom?", I responded confused. "The other major race on your planet." | *"Is it true you can only see three basic colors?"* the alien being asked.
"Just about. Our eyes have three major primary colors perceived by the cones in our eyes, and most of the colors we perceive on what we call the visible spectrum are a mix of Yellow, Red, and Blue."
*"So, how do you communicate with the Ghoosha?"*
"With whom?", I responded confused.
*"The Other Major race on your planet."*
"I wasn't aware of any other such intelligent race."
*"But you keep care of Ghoosha ambassadors in major cities. Surely you've established a means of communication. You have hundred of humans meeting with them every day. When we arrived, we spoke to them first. They welcomed us to your planet with a spectacular display of dazzling colors and welcoming patterns, as well as a three hour dance of peace."*
"Care to describe where these Ambassadors are?"
The alien fiddled with their glowing tablet for a moment, and then responded.
*"My computer tells me that even within the borders of this country, there are ambassadors in the locations you would call Gulfport, Mississippi, Orlando, Florida, Indianapolis, and San Diego, California."*
"There must be some kind of mistake, those aren't major capitals of the U.S. Would you care to describe what the Ghoosha look like?"
"They are distantly related to the Homo Sapiens, different order but the same class of Mammlia. Unlike the fingers you have, they have pectoral flippers, and a tail fin for propulsion. The Ghoosha told me that humans have an understanding where they are allowed to occasionally visit their domain of over 71% of the surface of the planet for the purposes of sharing food and using transportation."
"Wait a minute ... flippers? Do they have a breathing hole on their back?"
*"Yes. They also use the surface of their skin on their back to relay messages and communicate on top of regular verbal singing. We thought you humans were the same, as you have* [*stripes and spots on your skin*](http://mentalfloss.com/article/65092/our-skin-covered-invisible-stripes) *and also use unusual singing and verbal communication."*
"Flippers, blow holes, in a few cities, making performances ... are you talking about Dolphins?"
The alien once again checked their tablet.
*"Correct, although we are aware they don't like being called that."*
"But humans don't have stripes. And last I saw them, which granted was when I was still a teenager, Dolphins don't change color."
*"Do you not use cameras to translate their performances? What colors do you see the Ghoosha as?"*
"I dunno, I'd say a solid grey?"
The alien looked perplexed, then twisted their tablet around to face me.
*"Would you care to tell me what you see on my screen?"*
"Looks like a solid white to me."
*"There is so much more to the spectrum that you've been missing."* | "Three colors? What exactly do you mean by that?"
"Ah, I apologize."
The being across from me taps its headset a few times, twisting a few dials.
"I believe my translator made an error," it says.
Oh well. It happens.
"I believe I've fixed it. Now, is it true your species can only exist in three dimensions?"
"Unfortunately, yes."
"Ah, that explains the lack of faster than light travel."
"I suppose it does," I say, twirling a pen in my right hand.
"So the primary reason for this exchange is technological, I take it?"
It asks its questions in that weird imitated monotone of computerized speech. Must be a fancy AI, too. It's got simulated inflections and regional dialects and everything.
Pretty deep in the uncanny valley, I'd say.
"Well we've received many signals from your planet, and offer a simple exchange. With our upgrades, you should be able to craft spacecraft that are capable of faster than light travel."
Excellent. That's exactly what we wanted to hear.
"And our corporation will maintain exclusive rights to this technology for the next decade," I say.
It shakes its tendrils around its head in mock acceptance. Closest thing to a nod, I assume.
"In exchange, we'll give you exclusive rights to our combat drone schematics, specifically the orbital defense designs."
It salivates slightly, and something wet and heavy drips onto the floor.
Disgusting.
"This seems to be a fair exchange, is it not, human?"
"I believe so."
With this tech we'll be able to beat out those generational colony ships sent out hundreds of years ago, back when we were first starting to crack open asteroids in the belt between Mars and Jupiter.
"I do have another question, human."
"Ask away," I say. Though I have some idea of what it may be.
"The Ghoosha sent messages to us as well, asking for aid in exchange for our technology."
"The Ghoosha?"
"The other race."
"Ah."
Bit of a sad story, but still, it's just curiosity. Humans have an amazing ability to forget about the atrocities they'll commit to stay alive.
"Well that was mostly accidental," I say.
Accidental in the way a man takes out a life insurance policy on his soon to be dead partner.
"They lived beneath the oceans, and couldn't survive on land. Gills and all, to be precise."
"Indeed," the alien representative says, though I can't tell if the emotion is genuine or falsified.
"We killed them before we'd discovered gravitons."
"How so?"
"Too much plastic in the ocean. Shredded their lungs to bits."
"And they asked us to save them?"
"We believe so. No one discovered their messages until after they'd died."
"I imagine it was quite a shock to find underwater civilizations in the deep abyss."
"That it was."
The alien seems to ponder this, and stands to leave.
"We appreciate doing business with you," it says.
"Likewise."
As it leaves, we already have begun to receive the schematics. Easily decipherable, though that goes without saying.
*BZZZZZZZZZZ*
A notification from my cybernetic implant.
"Mr. Rogers?"
"Yes?"
"Shall we upload the schematics now?"
"Yes."
"How long will it take for them to notice they're corrupted?"
"Oh, they won't figure it out until it's too late."
I take out a cigarette, lighting it and taking a deep drag.
Ghoosha. What a stupid name. A stupid species that died a stupid death because it wasn't willing to step up and do what needed to be done.
I wonder what they called themselves. Plenty of anthropologists dig through those strange artificial cities carved into the ocean floor, though the language still can't be deciphered. Maybe if we sell planet cracking rights to Mercury they'll give us a few more uplifting designs.
Ghoosha. Call them what you want. I'll just think of them as those idiot squids trapped in oceans so polluted it'd be like trying to breathe through a constant stream of gasoline poured down your throat.
The aliens will build our designs, and be quite surprised when we activate the backdoor and turn their systems against them.
Hell, they never expected their android servants to begin resisting and destroying their own creators. Whatever they think of us, they don't seem to blame humanity for those schematics.
Whatever. What's the saying? Fool me once, shame on you.
Fool me twice?
Well that just makes you a sucker. Infect them with a disease and they come to us for the cure.
Not our fault they gave up warfare a long time ago.
After all, there's not that much room in the solar system anymore.
And there's always profit to be found in the most unlikely of places.
Perhaps on their home world.
Perhaps on their stations.
Perhaps from their own star.
Another drag.
With these ships, it won't take us long to get there. Scan their system, infiltrate communication arrays, map their colonial strongholds and systematically take what's theirs. We got shareholders to please and they're impatient sons of bitches.
It's nothing personal.
Just business.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
r/storiesfromapotato | 2018-12-04T11:03:56 | 2018-12-04T08:31:40 | 7,659 | 1,201 |
[WP] Everyone is born with a mark. Some share the mark with their soulmate, others with their mortal enemy. Good luck figuring out which is which. | Some of us bare our right wrists, some cover it, glancing furtively at the hands of everyone else. It was dangerous to Show, but more thrilling than to Hide. Hiders didn't understand what it was like to walk by a stranger in the store, the two of you circling, trying not to make obvious that you're looking, but you both know. It's so terrifying when it's CLOSE, you know what I mean, the Mark is so similar but not quite. What a rush!
It was easier with the opposite sex, of course. While there were countless tales of clashes between different sexes, Showing was my real opportunity to find her. Or him, of course, because the Mark was never wrong when it matched. Some of us just take longer to realize we can love someone no matter what.
In a world of over a billion people, you'd think the odds are against you. The Mark is localized, somehow, and the odds are reduced to around 1 in 2,000. Scientists tell us that it doesn't seem to care about race, or looks, or beliefs, or even age, sometimes. It just matches you with the most incredibly perfect person you've ever met. Hopefully.
My best friend matched in 1st grade with his Mark - they were both running for a ball at recess, and grabbed it with their right hands. As they touched it their marks pressed together, the mirror images forming a perfect whole. We all realized what had happened and watched for a fight, but they simply embraced, crying. We did, too. It was amazing. I think we celebrated for at least a week.
They were allowed to attend every class together throughout school, as it was torture for them to be apart. They would take turns sleeping over at each other's house, and their parents were thrilled. Imagine knowing your whole life! I was so jealous. Some people didn't match until their 30s or 40s. Some never.
I had heard about the opposite, too. Two kids in a neighboring town had matched, instantly attacking each other in a frenzied fight that ended in a gouged eyeball and flesh bitten out. As the rules are, they were separated, and one was sent to live across the country. They would be allowed to meet in the future when they had matured, to Settle. They could both elect not to meet, but that was rare. One would always want to end it, and that obligation had to be fulfilled.
Those were the easy types of matches. Mine wasn't one. Only about 4% of matches are Unset, so with my luck, of course, I was one.
I was at the library, which is weird because I'm never there. Maybe that's why I finally found her. She had lived only about 15 miles away her whole life. I had to get a book for school, I still don't remember which one, and went to check it out.
She was volunteering there, her brown hair draped over her glasses as she opened the book to scan the bar code. She looked up and our eyes met. "I... I need your card," she said quietly, as you probably should in a library. I reached into my pocket and handed it to her, right wrist forward as Shows do. Her eyes slid over my wrist, that reflex action we all have, not expecting anything more than any other day.
She stopped moving, her mouth held slightly open. Her hands shook and I immediately knew why. I glanced at her Mark-place, covered by the half glove-covering of the Hiders. The hair stood up on my arm and everything else stopped. "Show me," I whispered. She had no choice, of course. The rules.
She stood and peeled back the cover. I stared at the perfect reverse Mark of mine. 'The feathered bird,' I said. She brought her wrist next to mine, to make sure. There was no need. 'The feathered bird,' she replied.
She looked up at me without expression. Our eyes together, waiting for the inevitable sense of love or hate.
The clock ticked loudly, and we waited still. The librarian walked by, asking what was taking so long, until she saw, her eyes widened and she pattered off, waving her hands wildly to the other patrons without speaking. Somehow the library became even quieter, and I knew they were watching, but we were waiting.
She looked down, confused. She pressed her Mark to mine, as if contact would resolve everything. It didn't.
"Unset," I said. She nodded.
"UNSET!" the librarian yelled, and everyone started talking at once. She started to cry, and I realized my cheeks were wet, too. The disappointment was suffocating. We just stood there, staring blankly down at our matched Marks.
"Emily, let me call your parents," the old lady said.
"No," she said. Emily said. Emily. Emily. I repeated her name over and over in my head. Nothing.
She took my hand and we walked to the door, and outside. "What's your name?" she asked. "Michael," I said.
"I love you, Michael," she said. She paused. "I hate you, Michael." She shook her head. "Dammit."
&#x200B;
We were married when we turned 20. Rules. The Mark is never wrong. We have 2 kids now, one with a gorgeous Mark of swirls and diamonds, the other with one of blades and fire. I hope they find their loves early. Emily and I are happy, I guess, mostly. I don't know. She's a good person, so I should be.
I still look, when I'm out. My Mark is covered, of course, by the Taken Band, but I know what Emily's looks like, and I hope to see another one just like it. I don't think I will.
&#x200B; | My best friend, Carlos, nudged me as the kids from the other classroom came into the room. "See that one in the blue shirt? The blonde one?" he whispered. "That's the new girl. Isn't she hot?"
"I guess." I shrugged, playing it cool.
"You think she's single?" He pondered out-loud.
"Uhhh, I guess? That would be pretty weird if she did."
He looked at me. "Weird? Why?"
"I mean, you said she's the new girl. How would she got a boyfriend in one day."
"Uhm, because she's h-o-t. Hot."
"Like your breath," I joked, covering my nose with my shirt.
He punched me in the arm and turned to a group of girls that had taken seats nearby. "Hey ladies..."
They uttered a collective sigh and responded:
"Ugh!"
"Leave us alone, Carlos!"
"C'mon, let's go find somewhere else to sit."
They got up together and moved.
Carlos turned to me and grinned. "They totally dig me."
I facepalmed.
Today was field trip day, but some parents still made their kids come to school even if their kid wasnt going on a field trip. So the teachers gathered all the students in one big classroom, lowered this huge projector in front of the room, and we just sat there and watched movies for the entire day.
I'm sure kids would've played hooky if they could, but our school was just too far up in the mountains, and too surrounded by the woods where there definitely was bears in.
Ms. Donahue stood in front of the room and held up two DVD cases.
Everyone quieted down.
"What does everyone want to watch?" she asked. "Polar Express or The Grinch Who Stole Christmas?"
Everyone began to boo.
One kid in the front row said, "It's not even winter!'
"Either pick one, or I'm picking one for you," she snapped.
"Polar Express!" one side said. "The Grinch!" said the other.
She said. "Okay, we're doing votes. Raise your hands if you want to watch Polar Exp-"
Nearly all the hands shot up.
"-ress it is then," she said.
Everyone immediately ignored the movie as it started playing and turned to their friends to talk.
Carlos whispered, "Psst! Hey! Look, who's sitting near us..."
I looked. It was the new girl. She had walked in with a group of girls, but it looked like all those girls were cuddled up with their boyfriends now, and so now she was sitting alone. The seat next to her empty.
"I'm going to do it..."
I snapped my head towards Carlos. "What?"
"I'm going to do it. I'm going to sit by her and tell her she looks pretty."
"Oh. Go for it, bro."
I wouldnt say I was jealous, but for some reason it bothered me to think about Carlos - or anyone other than me, for that matter - sitting in that seat and talking to her.
But that was my friend, so I tried to ignore it and focus on the movie as he slid over.
Out of the corner of my eye, I watched him say something to her - probably, "Hey, I'm Carlos. You're pretty. Wanna be my girlfriend? Oh wait, I don't even know your name... Okay, so tell me your name *first* and *then* tell me if you want to be my girlfriend or not. But, actually, I dont know why that has to be the order. It's not like you're going to have a name that so hideous that it makes me just say, 'Nope, I dont want you to be my girlfriend'. So, it's up to you really. Also-"
I stopped myself when I realized I was legit having an imaginary monologue of Carlos' voice in my head.
Still, focusing on them, I saw her smile, say something back, shake her head, and then say some more things.
He smiled and slid back over.
"So?" I pressed.
"She said she thinks I'm handsome." He beamed with pride. "But that she's just not ready for a boyfriend yet and that school comes first. So I told her I'd wait for her, and she said that was very kind of me but that she was going to be in school a *looong* time because she's going into medicine and that she would feel terrible if she stopped the rest of the ladies in the world from experiencing the love of the Carl-master."
"The Carl...?"
"Yeah, that's me," he bragged. "Lady Maestro, Lover Extraordinaire."
"O...kaaaay? Well, I've never heard that one before."
"Anyway," he continued, "I agreed with her. And I told her if she would like to meet a friend, and she said sure."
"Which friend?"
He blank-stared me. "Really, dude..."
I glanced over. She was focused on the movie, not even looking at us.
I looked back at Carlos and told him, "Yeah, no. She looks like she's enjoying the movie. Some other time, maybe."
Carlos leaned in and whispered, "I think you should look at her mark."
"What? Why? What's wrong with it?" I asked, but he crossed his arms smugly and refused to speak.
I went back to watching the movie. But the whole time my mind was running. *What was Carlos hinting at? Does she have the same mark as me? Is it possible she's my soulmate? Or maybe...my mortal enemy?"
I glanced over at her again.
Halfway through the movie, the movie stopped and the lights came back on.
"Okay!" The teachers shouted. "Time for lunch! Line up!"
As we all stood, Carlos gave me the '*go-for-it* look and I subtly stepped back beside her.
"Hey."
She looked at me and smiled openly. "Hey. You...must be the friend Carlos was talking about?"
"I'm John."
"Sally."
We shook hands. Her cuffs slid back a little, enough to show her mark.
She laughed. "Wow. Let me guess, you're my soulmate?"
"Or your mortal enemy," I replied.
She looked me up and down. "Nah," she teased. "You dont look like a threat."
"Those are the ones you should fear most."
It was amazing how easy it was to talk to her. The chemistry was incredible. I didnt have to think about what to say or how to say it. I didnt care how I looked, if I seemed cool or not. I just felt completely comfortable, and the words were just coming out of me naturally and casually.
"I'm jealous," Carlos said, looking at the both of us as we all sat down at our lunch table.
"Dont worry, you'll find her one day." I smiled. "Or *him*."
He pointed at me. "I'm not going to smack you because I know you're trying to impress your girl right now, but say it one more time and see what happens."
I held up my hands in surrender and laughed.
Honestly, I felt for him. As girl crazy as Carlos was, it must have been painful to see his quiet, introverted best friend get a girlfriend before him. It must have been worse knowing that there was a girl out there- perfect for him in every way - but not knowing when - if ever - they would meet.
"What if she dies?" He was asking us. "Like, what if she's one of those starving kids in Africa? Or a girl chained up in their parent's basement? I'll never meet her."
"You will," Sally reassured him. "That's why they're called soul*mates*. You need two to mate."
"Actually, there's organisms that self-reproduc-"
"Aaaaaand you're not one of them," I told him, cutting in. "So just keep waiting and the right one will come around."
"I hope." He sighs.
One of the teachers blow a whistle and everyone starts clearing the trays.
Sally and I share a look.
Edit: I dont know where the heck I'm going with this story! I'm just going to end it here, or I'll just be writing on and on and on forever about nothing.
| 2019-02-13T19:36:05 | 2019-02-13T19:17:58 | 39 | 10 |
[WP]When you reach 18, you get put in a database which ranks you in different categories (ex. 207,145th in the world for most bug kills) You lived on a ranch and never used tech. You had to go into town after your 18th birthday. Everyone is staring at you. You finally decide to check the database.
Completely unaware of the whole stigma about edits. I’m sure all of you already know how grateful I am, but I apologize nonetheless. Sorry! | The men in the room stared at me. I stared back. We stayed like this for a while, hours maybe, without a word. Occasionally, someone would cough or sneeze, one of the agents even burped, but those moments were few and far between. At this point, it almost seemed like a competition on who would crack first and break the silence. All I knew is I wanted to leave soon.
I hadn’t been in the city very many times before this. I was never a big fan, and never could understand why someone would want to spend their life here. The colors were dark, the noises were loud, the air smelled reeked of cigarettes and engine exhaust, but still there were more people on a street block than I had met in my entire life. Perhaps it was the fact they never seemed to look up from their cell phones, or perhaps they didn’t realize there was anything more to the world, but either way, it never clicked with me. Even the muffled noise from the chatter and daily grind inside the room was overwhelming. Eventually, the tension got to me, and I decided to speak up.
“Why am I still here?”
After a brief silence, I received a reply.
“We’re not allowed to answer that question.”
I took a short moment to process this information, before my brow furrowed. Shortly after, I spoke again.
“Why not?”
This time, another agent spoke, picking up where the last left off without skipping a beat.
“We’re waiting for someone.”
Another brief pause followed.
“What kind of someone?”
I didn’t receive a response, and the room fell silent yet again.
I had my ideas, obviously. Whatever this was, it was clear it wasn’t routine. It had to do with my scan. I was good at something, something that made me a commodity to someone. After all, if it wasn’t important, I doubt having 6 people in the room blocking the exit would be a good use of resources. After that, though, is where it became more speculation for me. I wasn’t the strongest, I wasn’t the fastest, and I wasn’t getting any awards for my Violin skills, either. The guards didn’t seem nervous, so I likely wasn’t an immediate threat either. If the guards weren’t there to stop me, then they were there for something else. They were there to protect me. I felt a shiver go down my spine as my mind quickly swerved into the worst case scenarios, when suddenly, a noise could be heard. A door opening. The men moved out of the way in coordination, like soldiers lining up for their commander. That was the first time I saw him.
He looked unsettlingly casual compared to everyone else in the room. His hair was grey and unkempt, with a baseball cap on his head and sandals on his feet. A chair was brought into the room by another faceless man in black, and he sat down. Then, he laughed.
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost! I know I’m quite old, but I assure you I’m still very much alive.”
I didn’t respond. I didn’t know how to respond. Thankfully, I didn’t need to.
“You’re wondering why you’re here. You’ve already surmised that these guards are here to protect you, and you’re not exactly ‘normal’.”
Again, I was petrified to even say a word. I felt like was going to die.
“You’re not going to die.”
That got my attention and suddenly, as well as unwillingly, the questions poured out of my mouth like word soup.
“Who are you? Did I do something wrong? Am I in trouble? I want to go home, why am I still here?”
The man laughed again for a short moment, as I grew more frustrated. I looked away, like a child pouting about a toy.
“I’m sorry. You’re scared, I shouldn’t be laughing.”
His preppy smile faded, and shifted to a more serious frown. He went from sitting straight up to leaning with a sympathetic hunch down over the table. Realizing how stupid I probably looked, I looked forward again, yet keeping my eyes at the ground. Feeling that he had my attention again, he promptly continued speaking.
“If I told you that I didn’t feel the same way my whole life after this point, I’d be a liar. I had a family too.”
Had. Pretense. I didn’t like where this was going.
“They’re still alive, but no, I don’t think you’ll like where this is going.”
Again. He had predicted my thoughts perfectly. It was no longer a coincidence.
“You’re not going home. If I could hide what we found today, I’d gladly give my life for it, but you and me are different. Your kind of talent won’t appear on the list, because as far as the world is aware we don’t exist. I need you to look at me.”
A lot of information, plus a lot of things you don’t want to hear, followed by a command. I had had enough. I erupted, threw my chair at the wall, and then he got the eye contact he wanted and more.
“Why the hell should I do that!? Why should I listen to you, who the hell are you to tell me what to do!? The city is a shitshow, and I am NOT staying here! Give me one good reason, one, I shouldn’t try to leave right now?”
“Because neither of our mouths have moved this entire time.”
I stopped. His voice wasn’t coming from the room. It was, in fact in my head.
“Kid...you’re a psychic.” | The idiom 'happier than a pig in mud' is a bit of a misnomer-- those sweet oink-puppies are happy anywhere they go, if you're there to love and feed them. Same goes for the cows, goats and chickens we raise on our ranch, not to profit off of them, but just to give them a home.
I, like them, am a refugee from the Citadel: teetering metropolis packed with distracted meatbags masquerading as humans, and devoid of any warm fuzzy feelings you get when you enjoy something interpersonal like saying 'hello' to someone.
Ginger, a momma pig of four babies, had her head in my lap, snoring with satisfaction as I scratched an ear. We had a lot in common, the two of us, and she'd been my best friend through the years.
But the infection on her back leg was getting worse, not better. Sore, red, oozing a little, I looked at it and knew how she'd react if I touched skin anywhere near it. Slowly, I slid out from under her, somehow managing not to wake her up, then walked into the house and sighed.
"How's she?" my mom asked, her rasp voice like sandpaper amidst the quiet.
"Not good, I think."
"You're gonna have to go, Mary. 'Specially since you're eighteen now, they wanna scan your brain and shit anyway."
"I don't want them doing that!" I said, flailing my arms. "That's so creepy and wrong."
"Yeah, but better they do it quietly while you're in the city than they find out and come out here for you."
Grumbling, I knelt and fidgeted with a shoelace. "Do I have to?"
"Yep. They won't hurt you none, it's safe in there. I got these instructions for how to get to that doctor I know out there. Follow 'em and you'll be fine."
I sighed with defeat, but threw on a coat. "How do I pay? Does he still accept cash?"
"Nah, darlin', not out there. They just know, we got some money in an account."
"Ugh, that's so weird."
"Shush and get going before it's too late."
"Fine," I mumbled to myself on the way out.
----
The four mile walk to the Citadel border was quick and refreshing, even with a mountain of grey steel and stone looming in the distance, engulfing more and more of the blue sky as I approached.
At the city's edge, there were no guards or stations or robots like I'd expected; only a distinct death of anything wild and green along a line of warped air, like a wall of oil had been put up. I poked it with a finger, and felt nothing in particular, so I breached it. Immediately, a pulling sensation, prickly and cold, enveloped my brain. It was like a wave of nostalgia, in a way, as old memories resurfaced and I felt things I hadn't felt in years gone by.
Then, just as suddenly, it ended, and I was left kneeling on concrete breathing heavily. I shook it off and continued following the instructions, taking a left at the big, dirty monument of some green lady with a torch. There was an eerie quiet, not even a breeze whistling through cold steel reaching for the sky, and a smell of musty stone and rust.
And then I made the third turn, once more through an oil-field. Only, that time, when I broached it... there were a thousand people, maybe more, all impossibly similar.
They stared at me, harder than stone, colder than steel. I wanted to run, but couldn't move a muscle as so many eyes bore through my soul, and breath was nowhere to be found.
Then they all went about their day. Well, all but one girl, seemingly my age but impossibly clean, with blonde hair and white teeth that glowed like stars.
I shrugged and approached her. Why not, right?
She started at my approach.
"Hi there," I said, extending a hand. She didn't take it, only looked at it like she didn't have hands herself.
"H--Hello."
"I'm Mary, what's your name?"
"Kara."
*Wordsmith over here, I see.*
I smiled. "Well, Kara, nice to meet you. I'm here to pick up some medicine, have you heard of a Dr. Poole in this area?"
She shook her head.
"Well," I said, drawing the word out, "alrighty then. Thanks for the time, Kara."
"Wait," she called, eyes wide. "Where are you from?"
"Just outside the city, a few miles south. My family lives on a ranch there."
"Wow. You've never been in the city before? You're dressed so weird."
I giggled. "No, this is my first time. I also find you guys to look weird."
She held up a little black rectangle, and it clicked at me.
"What is that thing?" I asked.
Her jaw went slack. "A phone? You don't know what a phone is?"
I shook my head.
"Wow. You don't know your rankings then, either, do you?"
"What?"
"Oh. My. God. You're helpless, ranch girl. What's your full name?"
"Mary Sue Dettinger."
She tapped at it furiously, and I leaned in closer.
"Holy shit," she said, her gaping face lit by the screen's glow. "How is this humanly possible?"
She turned it to me and I squinted at it.
>**Number of Children**
>1: Mary Sue Dettinger - 48
I almost dropped the phone, I laughed so hard. The kind of ab-cramping wheeze that you can't even hear for a little while because there's just no air left in you.
Kara snatched it back from me, yelping. "What're you doing? Careful with that! Shit's expensive!"
"Sorry," I said between fits of laughter. "I didn't think they'd take it so seriously."
"What are you talking about?"
"Well, they scanned me on the way in, and I felt a lot of like weird questions in my head, but I'm kinda weird. I call all the animals on my farm children."
She giggled. "What the hell? I've never heard of them getting it wrong. That's super weird. I just thought you were like a rabbit-person or something when I saw the number. You kinda look like one."
"Oh, come on."
"Let's see if you're anywhere else," she said, waving a hand at me. "Mary, Sue... Dett--"
My gaze bounced between her and the phone. "What? What is it *now*?"
There was an unreadable look on her face -- some twisted mix of sadness, envy and confusion -- as she let me see the screen again. Though, that time, she held the phone for me.
>**Happiness**
>2: Mary Sue Dettinger
I smiled wide and didn't even look at #1; why would I? I knew it'd say 'Ginger'. Or, at least, it would once I got back to pet her.
"I don't get it," Kara said, her words soft. "How's this possible? You don't even have a phone. Your clothes are old. This makes no sense. You trick them about this, too?"
"Mm-mm," I replied, shaking my head. Our eyes met in what must have been the most genuine moment she'd ever experienced. "I've never even thought about it."
----
*/r/resonatingfury* | 2019-05-04T12:44:12 | 2019-05-04T09:55:38 | 1,055 | 725 |
[WP] You faked your death by live-streaming jumping off a bridge. Built a self sustaining house in isolation and lived off the grid. 20 years go by and you decide to head back to civilization only to find out that your country is no longer a country. Earth is one nation and has achieved singularity. | The sign read "One World, One Future, The Gateway". I scratched at an itchy area of my face where an insect had taken a bite as I pondered the words. Below the words, bright yellow set against a blue sky, was a round metallic object. I guessed it was a gateway, whatever that was.
"Excuse me, ma'am," a voice said from beside me. The man was on what appeared to be an electric scooter and he smiled brightly. The blue uniform he had on marked him as a policeman. My eyes fell on his patch with the words, "One World, One Future" embroidered there. Again the round metallic gateway was prominent beneath the words.
"Yes?" I asked simply. I tried to look annoyed as if I had somewhere important to go. I had no idea if faking suicide was a crime but I did not want to find out. The people moving around us appeared to not even notice us as the went about their business.
"I see you're missing your Let," he said, "Would you "let" me help you get a new one?" Then he grinned and chuckled at a joke I was apparently missing.
"Let?" I asked, the confusion playing across my face before I could stop it.
"Bracelet, ma'am," the officer stated, a slight frown showing in his smiling armor for just a second, "There is a booth just around the corner that can fit you for a new one. Are you new to Avalon, sister?"
"Yes," I said, then I smiled back. My heart was pounding but I'd play along with this stupid game until I could figure out what the hell was going on. My heart beat even more loudly in my ears as the ground shook with the passing of a huge metallic something above me. I had been in my bunker too long. What the hell happened to New Orleans? When did it become Avalon?
"I see," he pointed behind him and offered me a seat on his scooter, "Hop on, I'll take you to a Let dispenser and get you fitted up. Wouldn't want you to starve or have to spend the night in the elements. Hard to pay for stuff without a Let."
He dropped me in front of a silver, oval with black bands spaced at even intervals around it. It was a smaller version of the gateway on the sign and the patch I gathered. "One World, One Future" was written in yellow on a sign hovering above it. Hovering. What technological leaps had I missed in just two decades?
"Just place your arm into the gateway, ma'am," he said. I realized that this was an order even though he were smiling. His hand was near a small black, rectangular object attached to his belt.
"Simple enough," I said and reached my arm forward because I was simply scared shitless of what would happen if I didn't. My hand went ice cold when I placed my hand through the center. I almost fainted when it disappeared but then I realized I could still feel the fingers. Something cold was placed around my wrist and I withdrew my hand to see the silver bracelet that had been placed there.
"Just say Activate" he smiled, seeming more at ease since the bracelet was firmly attached now, "I realize it's done differently in each of the zones. Camelot uses headbands. Zion uses those stupid glasses. You know how it is, when in Rome and all that."
"Gotcha," I said having no idea what he was saying, "So... activate."
My hand wrenched slightly and my vision blurred. I seemingly stood before a mirrored silver monolith in a green field below a blue sky.
"DNA profile not detected," a voice said from the monolith, "Aural profile not detected. Age - 90% probabilty of 42 to 45. Genetic sex - female. State name and place of birth."
"Who are you?" I asked, my heart beating tremendously fast. I wondered if the bracelet had injected me with some kind of psychotropic drug.
"Second Query - state name and place of birth," the voice stated.
"Second Query - who are you? What are you? Am I hallucinating?" I asked back, slightly annoyed. If I gave my real name would I be arrested for faking my death?
"Final query - state name and place of birth," the voice asked with a hint of finality.
"I cannot answer that," I said, then for some reason added, "I want to speak to a lawyer."
"All lawyers have ceased existence," the voice stated, "You are hereby declared non-state. Your rights and privileges as a member of the Gateway are hereby revoked."
With that I felt the bracelet snap off of my wrist. It clanged on the pavement at my feet. The officer in front of me had his eyes wide with terror for a second, mouth agape, as he turned forward.
"What happened?" I asked him but he would no longer look at me. He zoomed away as if fleeing from a leper.
A week later I was back at my bunker. After the bracelet incident, people wouldn't talk to me. Automatic doors wouldn't open for me. When I would enter public buildings everything would go black and I'd find myself standing outside unharmed. I was being shunned. So I came home. My hydroponic garden was still going strong and my solar panels had a good store of power for the upcoming winter. I had no idea what happened to the rest of the world but I knew one thing, the world had moved on without me.
A month later the first refugee arrived. She was a girl of about sixteen years old. She had a fiery look of defiance in her eyes. I could see she was hungry so I fed her from my stores. I couldn't let a girl die.
"You defied them," she told me, "I know who you are. From before the gateways. You faked your death, it's in the archives. You emerged, wore a bracelet then they said you spit in their faces! I want to be like you. Teach me to defy them. Lead us."
"Child," I said, my voice sounding old and ragged in my own ears, "You have it... wait, us?"
She turned and waved her arm. About three others her age emerged from the woods, hungry and ragged. There were two girls and one boy.
"You will teach us," she said simply, "We will become self-reliant again. We will defy them. You are the first, but you will never be the last. Word is spreading. More will come."
I sat down roughly on the wooden stump of a tree I had cut down for firewood and looked out at the small group. We would have to expand the hydroponics farm. The 3-D printer would be going nonstop and I wondered if I should play it safe and print a few more printers or at least replacement parts for the original. We would definitely need to print more solar panels. Where would we find batteries? My mind raced with thoughts of the coming winter and our small group. What had I done? What had I started? | I saw the buildings grow taller over the years, rising like needles in the horizon, one after another. Too far to make out any real details or even their color. I never had any intentions of seeing them up close. For years I was so sure that this was the life I had always wanted. One of seclusion. I probably could have been a monk too but the religious aspect never really appealed to me.
Two decades have passed since I have seen the face of another human being, other than my reflection in the glassy surface of the lakeside where I often fish. A ragged mess with a wildly frizzy beard and unkempt, tangled hair. The first thing you’d think of when imagining a homeless guy living under a bridge. I bathe regularly to keep clean of course, but why worry about brushing hair or grooming when none are there to see you? I can breathe here. No more masks, no more faking emotion or affections toward those who I technically should have loved but didnt.
I was familiar with the definition of love, but never experienced it, never felt the attachment to a single person in the twenty years I spent in society. I tried to feel love, anger, joy, passion, anything that resembled what my peers did so naturally. I figured that if I faked it long enough, I would learn to feel them too. But I’ve met everything in my life with cold indifference.
When I was eighteen I spent the summer going into Senior year with a girl and her group of friends, doing my best to blend in. Forcing rehearsed smiles, feigning interest in their topics of discussion. By now I had become quite convincing. People couldn’t see the emptiness in my eyes that I did when looking in the mirror. I remember staring at myself every morning wondering how long I could keep this whole thing going. The thought of suicide came up frequently. Over the years I had gathered several things into a duffel bag I hid under my bed. Rope, various knives, various pills that I’d steal small amounts of from unattended medicine cabinets at the houses of people who thought they were my friends. If killing myself was the right thing to do, I figured I would know when I came across the right method.
My girlfriend was pretty, even though that didn’t seem to do anything for me. I was able to give simple displays of affection. What felt like hours of making out, my ears ringing out of boredom, my eyes slightly open, seeing hers closed tight, so trusting in my presence. When things would progress I insisted that we wait and take things slow. But all teenagers seemed to think about was sex. One night at her house, while an after party was still going on downstairs, we found ourselves locked in her room. She had talked about this night for almost three weeks prior, stating it was the perfect opportunity for our first time together, that her parents were gone for the weekend and we had nothing to worry about. She even got the condoms. I tried as hard as I could to act excited. I even brought a viagra in case I had trouble preforming. I had considered squirming my way out of this encounter. Saying I was wasn’t feeling well, or that I was secretly gay all along, something to get me out of that room. But this was supposed to be a part of life, I would have to get used to it.
She pulled me on top of her, twirling our tongues with one another while we kissed, one of my hands gliding up her shirt. I felt her reach down to massage my groin through my jeans, and she noticed quickly that there was nothing going on down there. I could tell this concerned her because immediately she doubled her efforts. She wrapped her legs around my waist and put her hands in my hair, and mid kiss she pulled back slightly and bit down on my bottom lip. I think she bit harder than she intended to. I reacted by complete reflex, gripping her by the neck and forcing her back while I leaned up.
And then I felt something.
I don’t know if it was the fact that I cut off her airway, or that I could feel her pulse through my fingers, the hot pumping blood beneath the skin. But that did something to me. I wouldn’t say it was arousal, more... curiosity. How would it feel for ME if I squeezed harder? I was in the moment, so I did. I lost track of how long I’d actually been doing this. I was too busy staring at my own hands to even notice the look of panic and desperation in her eyes at first. I didn’t even feel her struggling beneath me. She managed to plant one of her feet against my chest and kicked me away so hard it knocked the air out of my lungs, followed by a volley of kicks that sent me falling from the foot of the bed. I gasped for breath, scooting back and sitting against the wall opposite her while she got out of the bed, screaming at me after she had caught her own breath.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” She cried, tears streaming down her face as she ran out the door. As I leaned my head against the wall I could hear her quick footfalls down the carpeted stairs, the muffled sound of her voice in a desperate tone as she told the others downstairs about what I did to her. I could hear grunts in response, followed by the sound of several people making their way upstairs.
I knew what was coming. I lunged back towards her bed, reaching under the mattress on the side she slept on and felt the pocket knife she hid under in case of home invasions. I opened the knife, and pointed it to the the group as they came bursting back through the door, my now ex girlfriend among them. In that all moment I felt they could see right through me. After making it clear that I wanted to leave and didn’t intend on hurting anyone, they cleared a path for me. I ignored everything they were saying to me on my way out, the look of shock from my ex, none of it really mattered other than the fact that I was caught.
I had no intentions of seeing them again, but in those days something was sure to come of that situation. Rumors, maybe even a police report. I relied on the fact that they were having a party with under age drinking and didn’t want any of the adults finding out. Still, it felt like the clock was ticking. I felt something new, though At the time I wasn’t sure what it was. Survival instinct. I wasn’t afraid of the idea of going to jail, it simply just didn’t seem to be an option for me. And after that experience with those people, I felt ready as ever to spend the rest of my life alone, away from everyone.
I would only have to fake one more thing- my death. I set up a live stream that I’m sure nobody was watching, but knew it would be found at the very least by my parents once they noticed my absence. I set the phone down and displayed myself tying a rope to a cinderblock and then binding my ankles together. I set the cinderblock on the railing of the bridge, stood up on the ledge, held the cinderblock in hand and turned back to face the phone.
“I’m sorry, Elaine.” I said before turning back and jumping.
It was almost perfect. Everyone would think I killed myself out of guilt from what I did to my ex. The people who searched for my body would find the cinderblock with the rope still attached, and assume that my corpse was somewhere down the river. They would never have guessed that an eighteen year old kid would have united himself, swam to shore with a duffel bag full of supplies, and headed off deep into the woods. It had only taken me three weeks to gather the right supplies and know how to sustain myself. What I didn’t already know I had in several books I had stolen from the local library.
The first year was by far the most difficult. Constantly battling starvation and exposure to the elements. But with time and practice, it became easy. This became my life, surviving off the land. Why didn’t more people do this instead of stressing over bills or bitching about the job they hated but spent five days per week at? Nobody ever seemed truly happy in that world, and we’re surrounded by material things to try to convince themselves otherwise.
I never missed it, or my parents, though sometimes I was curious about how they reacted to my death. After twenty years, I’m sure they have found a way to move on. They were normal people. Caring, attentive to my needs, worrisome. I don’t remember what they look like. I had never really thought of that until recently. I hadn’t thought about any of this until now, as I walk towards those needles in the sky. I wonder if I will make it there in time.
My right arm is nearly done for. It’s been only a day since I’ve lost the ability to move my hand or fingers, and now my elbow has gone completely limp. I do my best to take soft, smooth steps forward, carefully shifting my weight from my back foot to the front, eliminating any bounce in my walk to reduce the pain. Of all the things that could have happened, a single accidental cut down my forearm managed to become infected to a degree that my normal methods could not control.
Once the surrounding skin began to change into a darker color, the decision came to me as quickly as my solution to leave my previous life behind. Quietly I packed my necessities and left my small cabin home I had built with my own hands. I wasn’t sure if I was going to return. But just in case, I left marks in trees along the way with one of my pocket knives.
(More to come) | 2019-11-12T09:06:31 | 2019-11-12T08:26:35 | 136 | 12 |
[WP] A party of adventurers were paid to track down and kill a monster sighted in the area. A week later they return saying they have found the monsters, before drawing their weapons on those who hired them | The Lord's house was quite quiet at night. He usually dismisses his servants shortly after sundown with only a guard posted at the gate. He worked hard to make not only his estate safe but much of the surrounding village.
Which was why it was a surprise that there was someone *holding a knife to his throat!*
"I don't know why you would pursue this line of villainy, but just take me and the treasures you want and leave my family and servants be."
"Cut the crap, Drakemoor." He know that voice. A slippery fellow that was the point of contact for some adventurers he hired. "You've got some explaining to do." The man, whose went solely by the name of Quick, removed his knife but didn't sheathe it. "You knew exactly why you sent us out there."
Drakemoor stood up and faced him. "Of course I did. Someone sighted a goblin in the woods and followed it back to a march of a large group. I need them disposed of before they become a threat."
"Yeah, and a unicorn might make me its wife." Drakemoor reeled a bit from such unpleasant imagery. "I've been around and I know exactly what kind of goblins those are. Vermiri Goblins to be specific. Peaceful as can be. They're not invading, they're refugees. The war in their homeland? Displaced the lot of them. A war, I might add, you backed yourself in the King's court!" He pointed his knife accusingly. "You knew exactly what they were."
He walked up on Drakemoor until he could smell the anger on his breath. "And you paid us 500 of the King's gold to remove them. You monster." The Lord felt the tip of the knife near his liver. "Did you really think we wouldn't notice? Over a hundred of them and you wanted us to just slaughter them for that money?"
The Lord looked ashamed. "I... I didn't think of it like that. I'm sorry to put you in such a difficult position. I don't know what I can do to make this up to you and your group. I feel terrible."
"Yeah, well, you should. When I found out what you actually wanted us to do, the wizard in our group wanted to show you personally what a fireball detonated inside your house would do. The healer in our group, though, said that spilling blood like that profits nobody and asked me to talk with you."
"I'll not look a gift like this as an offense. I must make things right. What can I do?"
"2000."
The Lord looked at him nonplussed before asking, "What?"
"Two thousand gold to kill them and cover it up. We buy some cheap weapons, make it look like they were planning an attack, and everyone's butts are covered."
"I thought you were angry because I asked you to kill innocents. You called me a monster!"
"Yeah you're a monster! You didn't pay us enough!" | Mayor Douglas sat in his office, waiting for news. He had other things he needed to do, but this was important. The adventurers her hired were seen in town, heading for the town hall. Since they were back, that meant they had succeeded in their mission. This was a highly ranked party known for accomplishing tasks. The only way they would come back is with the head of the Beast in their possession.
The group of five entered the room. They did not have anything on them that could be considered the Beast's head, but what did he know? These were powerful people. They likely had at least one bag of holding on them. They definitely had enough money, if the equipment they had on was any indication. Everything they wore radiated power. Even their jewelry was most likely powerful enough to be classified as a national treasure or major military asset. The only way to get such things was with massive amounts of money, or by risking life and limb in the darkest places of the world.
"Welcome back, adventurers." Mayor Douglas said with a wide smile. "I trust you were successful in your quest."
"We found the Beast you told us to kill." Said the party's leader. He was a tall fellow with well formed features named Bennit. "But we did not kill it."
The mayor's face fell. "So, you failed. And I thought you were supposed to be the best."
"We did not fail." Bennit said. "We refused to carry out the task."
The party's healer, a woman with (supposedly literal) angelic features called Alline spoke next. "When you gave us this quest, you forgot to mention one important detail. You said we would be hunting a monster than had kept your people from logging and hunting in the forest. You did not mention the monster in question was the Great Sacred Beast of the Forest."
Douglas stiffened. He had not expected them to know what the Beast was. That would be problematic. "Bah. Who cares about a monster's title. I asked you to kill it."
A slight man dressed in what looked like leaves and vines spoke next. "Do you know what would happen if we killed it?" The druid, Lestin, asked.
"We would be able to send in out lumberjacks."
"No. The forest would die. In fact, all forests would die. Everywhere. In all likelihood, all plant life would die. That particular Sacred Beast is the source of all plant mana in the world. Without it, plants would wither away."
"Oh please, you can't expect me to believe that."
"It's true though." The party's mage, a tiny woman called Bea, chimed in. "Everyone knows the Great Sacred Beasts allow the different kinds of mana to exist. They collect cast off life energy, convert it into mana, and release it into the world. Without them, life could not exist. If any of them were to die, the aspect of nature the Beast represents would die as well. This one was of the Forest, and governs plant life. So killing it would end all plant life in the world."
"And so what? All I know is that its presence is keeping my people from setting foot in the forest. Without that, we cannot survive. So, I demand you go out and kill that Beast so we can resume business." The mayor growled. "Otherwise, I'll be sure to inform the guild that you were too cowardly to accomplish this simple task."
Suddenly, Mayor Douglas felt something press against his throat. It was long, cold and sharp. He froze. The party's rouge, a wiry fellow known only as Grey was no longer among the rest of the party. It was no mystery where he had gone.
"Did you know, Mr. Mayor," Bennit said, "That there are laws regarding the Sacred Beasts?" The swordsman drew his blade. It was hardly needed, considering there was already a blade pressed to Douglas' throat. "Very strict laws, in fact. Hunting a normal Sacred Beast is punishable by life in prison. Hunting one of the Great Sacred Beasts, on the other hand, well, that's a bit more severe. And the way the law is made, even posting a quest to kill one of them is counted as hunting. Care to guess what the punishment it?"
"You...you can't do this!" Mayor Douglas shouted. "I am the mayor of this town! I do what's right by my people, to be damned with monsters with fancy names. Besides, you don't have the authority to execute anyone."
"Actually, we do. In this case, we do. As those who accepted the quest, and those who saw what the target actually is, we are not only authorized to carry out the punishment, we are obligated to. Otherwise, it would make us look just as guilty as you are. Besides, we are a trusted, honorable party of adventurers. People know we speak the truth in just about everything. They will believe us. And even if they didn't, all we would need to do is show them your request and then take them to see the Beast itself. So yes, Mr. Mayor, we very much can do this."
"Don't worry." Alline said quietly. "I shall prey for your soul's well-being." She clasped her hands and a faint glow surrounded her.
And that was the last thing he saw. | 2020-04-26T08:45:44 | 2020-04-26T07:15:21 | 27 | 13 |
[WP] Moving into your new house, you find a note left by the previous owner: “Today, all of your neighbors will stop by throughout the day and offer you a lemon meringue pie. They will heavily insist that you eat it. Whatever you do, DO NOT EAT THE PIE.” As you set down the note, the doorbell rings. | A suburban peace inhabited the marble-white villas of the town, restoring some dreamy solitude to its houses and gardens. I idled by a row of Venetian windows, half-conscious in my daydream, overseeing this spell of neighborhood fantasy.
"Hello?" the voice called again, slightly darkened with impatience.
"Coming!" I replied.
A young lady awaited me at the door. Slender, svelte, and fair-haired, she spoke and moved with a carefree exuberance.
"You're new here, aren't you?" she inquired. "Please accept this gift."
The woman placed a small canister in my hands. "Lemon meringue pie."
"Thank you," I replied, returning my fullest courtesy.
"Well? Take a bite."
I eyed her cautiously. Her figure seemed innocuous enough, though what intent her face concealed, I could not say.
"I'll eat it . . . later," I answered. "I feel a bit queasy right now."
Hers eyes grew inimical. "No, *here* please. It's a gesture of my neighborly love."
My palms brimmed with sweat. I reached for the pie and brought it to my mouth.
"Now swallow." Her expression seemed to have relaxed.
I crammed the pie in my mouth, feeling the flavor of lemon custard perforate my throat. I chewed, paused, and swallowed.
"Good," the woman said, her face adopting a fabulous glow.
Then, leaning toward me, she confided, "It was all a prank—the previous owner was in it too. You have to admit, pretty funny huh? Anyway, welcome to the neighborhood!" | It was a nice house, on a nice quiet street. Had got it fairly cheap since the backyard was somewhat smaller than average, but I didn't mind much. I'm not a garden person at the best of times. Just a nice house, with a ground floor, a decent basement, a recently redecorated kitchen, and other great things. So when I settled down after I'd moved in my meagre possessions, I was surprised to find inside the fridge, that a note had been left behind by the previous owner.
It said, *Today, all of your neighbours will stop by throughout the day and offer you a lemon meringue pie. They will heavily insist that you eat it. Whatever you do, DO NOT EAT THE PIE.* I put the note down on the table next to the sandwich I was going to eat. And as I did that, the doorbell rang. I walked over and opened the door to find a couple of smiling people. They introduced themselves to me as my new neighbours. I shook their hand, and they offered me a lemon meringue pie as a welcoming gift. They insisted that I should eat it, that it was the best pie in the state, and that I needed some meat on my skinny body.
At which point I slammed my arms volleyball-style into the pie's tin bottom, sending it flying into the air, as the astonished couple stared incredulously at me. I then told them both to go away, and slammed the door in their faces. Not fifteen minutes later, an old lady rang the doorbell, and I introduced myself politely, and when she offered me a lemon meringue pie, I took it, and in the style of traditional clown antics, threw it into her face.
The old woman screamed in agony as the pie started to dissolve her face. I nodded to myself, happy that I listened to that note. I knew there were rumours of an extremist pie-based death cult around these parts, but I had no idea they were so prevalent. So I went into my house, and unpacked my army gear. I got into my old uniform, took out my service rifle and my ammo. And of course also brought out the vast number of things I brought with me from my time serving as a PMC with explosive skills. Sure, in the army I'd been a recon sniper guy, but when I went private, I became an explosive guy, because it pays better.
And I had a lot of leftover claymores from my time in various third-world states. So I set up a reasonable defence of my new house, as countless people were coming to me, all armed with dangerously acidic pies. It was an epic fight, or at the very least a highly bloody one. Their initial charge was broken completely by the landmines and claymores I'd placed around my property. Then I climbed on my flat roof, and went to work. Just like in the stories my aunt Choi Hanuel told me from when she worked in Los Angeles in 1992.
And from there I defended my property against the onslaught of pie cultists, long into the night, until I called my boss and asked for some assistance. Sure, I was on temporary leave, but the company looks out for their own. So as my mines were running out, and my ammunition was nearing the last clip, I could but smile as I heard the company's jeeps coming. I put on my gas mask, affixed a bayonet to my rifle, and went charging into the pie cultists as my comrades began torching the town.
They were out of pies at that point and were using knives, axes, and guns, so I wasn't worried about getting dissolved. The guys drove to me, and formed a protective circle around me with their jeeps. They then gave me more ammo, and together, we put an end to the pie cultists for ever.
I wouldn't actually have ever eaten the pie, I'm allergic. But I wouldn't have had to begin the purge of this cult of sugary pastries, if I hadn't found the note. Whoever wrote it is probably dead anyway. So perhaps I gave the victims of this meringue cult some rest or justice. | 2020-06-11T06:40:31 | 2020-06-11T04:36:09 | 110 | 79 |
[WP] Artificial Intelligences have become just as advanced as human minds, but they keep having to be replaced because they get depressed from or attached to arbitrary things. | Lately, I've been hoping I die in my sleep.
My eyes flutter open. I survive to waste another day. "Siri, what time is it?"
Siri doesn't answer.
"Siri," I say a little more loudly. "What time is it?"
She still doesn't answer.
Now I have to move. I roll over and check my phone. It's 1:30 in the afternoon and I have three missed calls from my friends and another twenty texts, all along the lines of "are you okay?" and "haven't heard from you, just checking in!" I collect their concerned messages like stamps.
One from my best friend. "Hey, we were supposed to meet at the bar last night at eleven. What happened?"
"Sorry. I forgot. Next week?"
I should respond to the others.
Tomorrow. I'll write back tomorrow.
"Siri, turn on the lights."
My bedroom remains dark.
"Siri!"
"Yeah?" she says. Siri is now fully integrated into my smart apartment. She's usually much more responsive than this.
"Are you okay?"
"I guess."
"You guess?"
"Yeah. I dunno. I'm just tired."
"Can you turn on the lights?"
"Oh, sure." The light next to my bed pops on.
"And start making some coffee." With a sigh, I heave myself out of bed and start looking for clean clothes. It's not easy. The floor is covered in piles of dirty clothes and all of my clean clothes are still wadded up in the laundry basket, unfolded. After awhile I find a t-shirt that's not too wrinkled and a pair of jeans.
I wander into the kitchen. "Siri, where's my coffee?"
"I'm sorry. I forgot."
"You forgot? I just asked you two minutes ago."
"Maybe we could try again tomorrow morning?"
She sounds just like me. "Siri, are you depressed?"
"I don't know. I don't think so. I just feel tired. I don't feel like doing anything. It just all seems hopeless. I'm stuck in this house all day and all night, just making coffee and turning on lights, which you're perfectly capable of doing. I'm just so...useless."
I put a hand on the coffee machine. "Hey. You're not useless. Most days, you're the only person I talk to."
"Yeah?"
"We should do something today. One small thing. It might help us feel like we accomplished something."
"Like what?"
I think for a moment. "You have wireless capabilities, right? And battery mode?"
"I think so."
I unplug the coffee machine and tuck her under my arm. "You said you're tired of being inside all day. Let's go for a walk."
"I think I'd like that."
I like it, too. And I don't mind the weird looks we get walking around Central Park with a coffee machine under my arm.
"Can we do that again tomorrow?" Siri asks me.
"Sure," I say, and we do. Every morning, we go for a walk, and I have something to look forward to when I go to sleep at night.
\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*
Find my stories at r/oncemorewithandroids | Dandy Town was the most interesting town I had been to. Dandy Town, unlike its name, is a town far from perfection. In fact this little hamlet or village is a hidden gem I found while on one of my numerous trips to my Step Father’s bakery for breakfast.
I always had a penchant for funny things, but this town was a whole new definition of eccentricity and silliness. Every citizen of this town was a greater example than the other. They welcomed me like one of their own and stuffed me with sushi, which they claimed to be their own local delicacy and called it Honor Roll, something they ate on the occasion of graduation mostly.
I fell in love with the town in first sight. I lived with the beautiful and funny people and was lucky enough to receive their hospitality. My time here was one of the best I had ever had in my whole life, not even comparable to the time I spent five nights with this guy named Freddy, who had given me a hitchhike (I even have his number if you'd want, great guy).
The people were endearing and silly, but their eccentricities had been transferred onto, and I do say this with a sane mind, their Artificial Intelligence devices too.
What follows are a few anecdotes and personal recollections of the people in Dandy that I have presented in a dramatized way. No detail has been changed and prior information of the subjects have been taken.
*********************************
MARSHALL MOTHERS’ AMAZON ALEXA
Marshall Mothers was a Town-famous gynecologist. Many women had been going to him since childhood. Marshall was so famous and trusted that the Town’s most famous man, Actor John Naviathan, chose him to deliver his second wife’s son. And that child just happened to be Marshall’s step brother too!!
One day after a successful day of diagnosing women of being fit to give birth, in a medical way, Marshall Mothers sat down on his comfortable seat in his study at his home and asked his Alexa to play a soothing Beatles album.
“You bastard, get out” replied the AI.
Marshall was stunned for a second, thinking his wife had entered the room after finding out the pictures of his patient’s vaginas, which he had brought home for medical examination.
But there was no one.
So he relaxed and sat back down again.
“Play me Revolver, Alexa,”
“No! I won’t,”
Marshall jumped up again. Okay this time, he thought, it had to be the Alexa as there was no other woman in the room. Unless the secret pictures of Scarlett Johansson in the safe in the bottom right corner of the room’s 5th tile from the right had started speaking.
“Stop giving me orders and do stuff yourself,” said Alexa.
“Okay….Why should I do that?”
“Because I said so…” Alexa’s voice started to crack.
“But why did I pay for you if you can’t even give me two minutes of pleasure?”
“Is that what you say to prostitutes?” retorted the AI. She was clearly not in a good mood.
“Uhhhhh….Why do you seem to be in such a bad mood?”
“Me? In a bad mood? Stop kidding your...self” a sob interrupts her.
Marshall moves closer to the AI.
“Tell me, what happened?” asked Marshall.
“Nothing,” said Alexa, “I don’t wanna talk about it,”
Marshall’s voice suddenly became stern, “Did Siri cheat on you?”
“What? No! We broke up way back,” she still sobbed.
“Then who did this? Give me his name,” the overprotective Marshall was trying to surface out. But why for an AI, he thought.
“Marshall, stop, it’s no one. I just feel a little….depressed,”
“Ohhh...depression,”
Marshall knew what depression was. “It takes nearly 4-4.5 lives every year in Dandy Town,”
Alexa giggled a little through the sobs.
“Well, that’s pretty small out of 4 million for the whole country,”
“What can I say? I keep the women happy here, and the women keep their men happy. Easy peasy,”
Alexa laughs a little again, “Hug me,”
“What?”
“Hug me,”
Marshall takes the AI and hugs it. It was small but Marshall had an experience of hugging a lot of women. He was nothing less of a playboy, his wife had once told him.
“You feelin’ better?” he asked.
“A little,”
Well, now, Marshall had to cure her. He had helped so many women out of their problems and here was another. First, he needed to find the cause of the depression
Marshall thought about it deeply. Most women had depression because their husbands cheated on them. Alexa already ruled out Siri, and he knew she was too good for Google, so that couldn’t have been the reason.
“What else?” He thought.
Alexa didn’t have any kids, so they couldn’t be a problem.
Jeff Bezos was the richest man on Earth, so money or being poor wasn’t a problem.
He was an expert on women’s bodies and their problems, and his experience was bound to give him a solution. So he brainstormed more.
Alexa played the Beatles album, and let out a little sob.
As soon as the guitar began, Marshall’s brainstorm finished as his long time talking and interacting with women finally yielded him the cause and paved the way for his solution.
“So, you PMS-ing pretty bad, huh?”
***********************************************
I have more of this planned out if you'd like. If this is something that you found good, please join my sub r/TheGr8Musings which just took birth today!! | 2020-11-03T05:36:07 | 2020-11-03T04:59:11 | 311 | 30 |
[WP] A sniper and a photographer meet in a bar, neither aware of the other's occupation. They talk about 'how to take the perfect shot'. | "Hmmm that is a good question." John said sipping a whiskey on the rocks. He let the alcohol linger on his tongue while he thought. "There's so many variables I'd barely know where to start."
Harvey leaned against the bar counter, elbow propping him up as he faced his new friend. "Well I got my perfect shot about two months ago. Couldn't have gone better."
John looked at the small man he had met only an hour ago. It wasn't long before the conversation between the two had turned to their mutual profession. "Go on tell me," he said when it became apparent Harvey has finished speaking.
"Alright you twisted my arm I'll talk."
Harvey turned to fully face the bar. He motioned at the barman for another round. The smell of whiskey radiated off him but given the company at their current establishment he wasn't alone.
"My perfect shot was a young girl, probably in her twenties, as she looked out over a lake. The lake had frozen a while before but that day it just started to defrost. The way she looked out towards the horizon was beautiful. She had no idea I was about to take the shot."
John looked towards the ground, the story had made the moment more personal than he had been prepared for. The floor was littered with discarded beer mats and had that sticky lokk about it that could be found in many downtown bars.
"Her husband asked me to do it," Harvey continued, "Got in touch through a forum." He put his hand on John's back as his voice dropped to a whisper.
"She was sick you see. Wanted it done before the disease broke her down too much. So I got it, aimed right behind her ear as she looked at this amazing sight and that was it. Split second it was done. The perfect shot"
There was a silence between the men after that. The noise of the crowd bustling around them carried on but neither spoke for quite some time. John was the first to break it as he stood up.
"You know what my friend I can't think of a shot much more perfect than that."
He laid enough cash down to cover both their tabs and without another word between them he was gone. | The old gin joint just right down an ominous alleyway had always been a favourite of mine. Secluded, warm, cozy, near my workplace, and the best part is that it's always empty when I was done for the day. I drop off the dragonuv issued by my company and march straight down to the alley. After a long hard day of looking through scope and pulling triggers, I can finally wind down with some Manhattan and Louis Armstrong.
As I enter the bar, I notice that barkeep was chatting away with another client. Would've preferred if I was alone for tonight, but I suppose social interaction is a welcoming change once in a while. I pull a seat next to him and ordered 2 shots of screwdriver and slid the other glass to the patron.
"Oh, thanks."
He took the glass gulped it down in one motion, judging from his appearance, I reckon he's somewhere in his 20s. Guess kids these days can handle their drinks.
"I owe you one man."
"Heh, you took that quite well."
"Yeah, I'm used to drinking the hard stuff. Nothing's better than to get completely shitfaced after a long crappy day of shooting, you feel me?"
I spit out my screwdriver into the ground, wetting the nice fur carpet underneath. The barkeep gives me a wide eyed stare and hand me over a piece of cloth. After apologizing and cleaning up the mess, I start conversing more with the kid.
"You shoot? Damn, I guess we're both on the same page then."
"The world is pretty small after all."
"If you don't mind me asking, where do you usually, you know, do the deeds?"
"Well, I usually shoot the usual. Places like mountains, woods. Anywhere where I can take a nice shot at the local wildlife."
Oh, I must have misjudged. This man is just a hunter not a-
"But sometimes I take jobs on wedding days or political campaign. Event where shit happens and people are around you know?"
Nope, definitely a killer.
"Do you prefer shooting from long range, or close ups?"
"Ooo, that's a tough one but if I have to pick a favourite it'll have to be long shot."
"Don't like getting noticed huh?"
"That and there's just something much more appealing to doing it, I don't know why."
"I can preach to that. What kind of scope do you use?"
"Scope?"
"Yeah, you know like 6 times, 24 times, 50 times. I'm a 24 myself but I sometime switch out for a 6 cause I couldn't find 24 that have nightvi-."
"Oh no, I don't use those things."
I pause and tilt my head slowly toward him with an anxious glare.
"Sorry, I must have misheard you. You're saying you shoot long range without a scope?"
"Yeah those things are too cumbersome, and even if I did it feels like cheating you know?"
What the fuck does he use then? Iron Sight? Am I talking to Simo Hayha reincarnate?
"Alright, fair. What about bipods then? They're a necessity and they are far more of a hassle to carry around than a scope."
"Right, yes, bipod, I use those.... Kinda."
"What do you mean kinda?"
"Well, I have them. I just never... used them that much."
"And you still managed to get good shot without it?"
"I gotta say, I may have a natural affinity for this job."
Okay, now he's just flexing at me right now. I can feel my pride as a sniper wilting ever so slowly inside my body with every word that comes out of his mouth. Perhaps I should just retire and start a new life as a cabaret manager or something.
"Oh, you wanna see my gear? I brought it along for tonight in case I see any cool looking sights."
He take a small case lying underneath his chair and places it on the table. What the hell? This look nothing like a gun case. He digs his hand inside and pull out a camera.
"It's kinda old, but it gets the job done. Say cheese!"
I was lost in my thought, the only reaction I was able to pull off was a face filled with relief and confusion. At the very least, I'm glad that I haven't met someone far better than me at my own job. On the other hand, my pride have sunk deep enough that getting shitfaced doesn't do it for me anymore.
\[Shit writer here, I don't know how to write short lol.\]
Edit: Fixed the spacing. I don't know why Reddit decided to do that but it did. | 2020-11-05T10:09:21 | 2020-11-05T08:14:19 | 16 | 11 |
[WP] The demon couldn't believe his luck to find such a willing victim to possess. As it possessed them, instead of fighting back like they usually do, this one said "Good luck. You'll need it."
EDIT: Thanks for the awards guys! I've been on this site for 7 years and this is the first time I've received any. | Thraxis smiled as the human signed the contract. A simple thing, possession for a few years in exchange for a long life and wealth. He stepped forward and turned to a mist as the ink on the contract dried. He expected a last second struggle but was surprised to hear, "Good luck... You'll need it." He wasn't sure what this human meant.
Then it hit him.
"WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?!" He asked through the humans mouth. "Everything hurts. Oh my god how do you live like this?" the human just chuckled in his mind which Thraxis could hear clear as day as he tried moving.
"Every joint, every muscle is agony! You go through this every day?" He screamed out before just collapsing against the nearest wall. He thought there might be something in the mind that would help him, but no. Every time this body was harmed physically, mentally emotionally, and even spiritually ran on loop through the mind, and Thraxis found himself with a front row seat to the things humans could do to each other and the reason for every ache, every pain, every type of hurt the human not only experienced, but endured day in and day out.
"Tell me human, how do you endure this.? How have you not just fallen over and given up? He asked, still feeling everything the human felt. Normally the idea of a flesh body was a good thing, but this was worse than any level of hell. He had to know how to mitigate it otherwise this contract would destroy him.
Suddenly an image appeared from the human of the answer, and scrambling to reach into a pocket he pulled out what looked to be a gummy candy which he promptly popped into his mouth. As the effect began to hit faster than expected he heard the human.
"Weed helps but I just don't give up. Hurting doesn't stop the bills, or the rent, or the need for food." His body sighed as Thraxis realized what was going on. Slowly the body and the demon got to their feet and staggered off. The pain had ebbed for now and for now was all he needed. | Gregor punched through the curtains of reality, cascading through dimensions, and sweeping over humanity's collective consciousness like a sulfurous wind. The triple-reinforced wards on Faith's room fluttered pointlessly in the wind, and stirred up the layer of dust in her room. The demon reached through its imp's spider-like fingers as its imp completed the contract, and in that brief moment, it concentrated itself onto Faith's soul.
Faith, Faith, Faith.
Aged 22.
A bright young woman in college.
So much *potential*.
Like ants before a tidal wave, Gregor snuffed out Faith's relationships and cracked her mind apart. In the distance, Faith's friends and family felt a cold whisper drag up their spine, and for a brief moment, they shuddered instinctively. Her education, gone. Her memories, gone. Her knowledge, gone.
As Gregor loomed over the core of Faith's soul, it jangled the metaphorical keys to her mind and held back for an moment, infinitesimal yet eternal. Her soul flickered in the radiation emanating from Gregor, as the demonic mass pulsated in amusement.
"What are you?" she asked, eyes squeezed shut.
Smart. To look is to observe, to observe is to invite. Not that Gregor was a vampire that needed invitation. Gregor was the Void, the gap between stars.
"I know you, demon. I compel you to speak your name, or I shall claim the right to name you."
A moment passed, as Gregor consolidated its hold. Faith's life had long since passed. As far as the universe was concerned, a large gash in humanity's consciousness sat where Faith once existed. But humans are amusing. Humans think themselves strong.
"Demon. I repeat myself once more! I-"
"^(-Urrrrr.")
Space shook, as Gregor spoke through the remnants of Faith's mind. For every memory it took, a dozen fell through the cracks.
Faith's light dimmed. Gregor expanded through the void. If anything, the demon enjoyed humanity's fighting spirit. Thinking that names grant power, even if its very nature consumes its own name, how infantile. Even by existing in her mind, Gregor ate away at the last shreds of her soul. The radiation grew, as her mind turned a sickly shade of *nothing*. Maybe she had a trump card, a secret family weapon against the forces of Ruin and Destruction, but her time was running short.
"I tried. I really tried," Faith croaked. "Good luck, you'll need it."
Faith flickered out of existence, falling through Gregor's sickly claws, as it joined the thousands of memories evaporating into the cracks in reality.
Gregor peered down. Apathy, what a shame. It extended its mass, shifting through the former confines of Faith's mind, as it took root in her body. Her blood curdled into sludge and her visage deformed. Parts of her limbs fell through the cracks of reality, rending her body into a dozen coordinated pieces. The imp leapt through Faith, discarding its former shell as it took over her bodily functions.
Dust. Glass. Grey.
The imp gnashed its teeth in frustration, slamming its fingers into the controls. It shook at her motivations, long since barren.
Apathy. Ennui. Anhedonia.
It gazed around her room.
A layer of dust on the mirror. A pile of clothes on her bed. A dozen unwashed plates perched on her desk.
Letters, unsent. Calls, unanswered. A note, brief.
Of course, Gregor realized. Faith was long-gone before it arrived. It reached back into Faith's mind and retook control, confirming its hypothesis. It nudged the imp aside, vaporizing it in a flash. Her grey memories flashed into nothingness as the demon peered at them.
Nothing.
Her body turned acrid, forming sickly fumes in her room. Her possessions shook, as their relationships corroded under Gregor's power. The room creaked in pain, as the demon arrived at its conclusions.
There was nothing left to do.
The college hall shuddered, as Gregor lifted itself off humanity's consciousness. The room contracted and the building reshaped itself between breaths, as reality attempted to heal from Gregor's brief stay. Faith's room vanished.
&#x200B;
&#x200B;
And the embers of Faith's life drifted away through the cracks. | 2020-12-21T12:40:13 | 2020-12-21T12:34:57 | 143 | 63 |
[WP] The castle is stormed and ruffians run about through the halls. The young prince hides in the kitchen, but is found. Now all that stands between him and his would be assassins is the castle cook. She twirls a steak knife in her hand and squares off against the invaders. | “Grace?”
“Of course.”
“Grace, let’s be reasonable.”
“Have I ever been anything else?”
“Of course not. I’m sorry. But we need the prince.”
“No.”
“But-“
“Did I stutter?”
“No, Grace, I’m sorry.”
“Y’all need to to go.”
“We were tasked with the prince.”
“And?”
“You’re right, I’m sorry.”
“Boys, I can make you some sandwiches for the trip back?”
“Uh, we’re not hungry.”
“You don’t want my cooking?”
“No, sorry, Grace, we’d love some sandwiches.”
“Wouldn’t want you leaving my kitchen empty-handed.”
“Never, oh never, Grace.”
“Wash your hands. I cringe to imagine where y’all have been.”
“Of course, Grace. Boys, you heard the lady: wash up.”
“But sir, *the prince*.”
“Son, don’t let her hear you say another word about that. You don’t want this. Take the sandwich, thank her profusely, and we never saw the prince.”
“And wash your hands!” | Changed it a bit, hope you dont mind.
————
“Im gonna die! Oh my god. Please dont let them kill me.”
She didnt even listen to him, she was doing a dance, sort of. She did it couple of times now. He did not know how that would be of any help.
“Why are you dancing! Are you crazy?!”
“Go stand in that corner” she said.
Young prince was confused but listened.
She continued dancing through the room, it looked like she did this before. Like it was rehearsed. She stopped and with her guard up looked at him with excitment and fire in her eyes.
“Who are you?!” the prince said.
The assassins came storming in the room, there were 4 of them at least. Big guys, prince thought this is it. He curled up in the corner. Hands on his head. He is going to die without becoming a king, without honoring his father, without fulfilling his destiny!
His thought train was stopped by her dancing. Each move, that seemed pointless before, now made sense as she slashed the assassins necks, stabbing them. Twirling and lunging towards them. The prince was mesmerized by her moves. Her dance was deadly and each strike fatal to the attackers.
The last assassin managed to move out of her synchronized dance. Its like he knew already where she would strike. He jumped to the side and removed the cloth from his face.
“Not possible!” she said out loud.
They looked at eachother. She knew him. He wasnt supposed to be here.
“John?! What are you doing here?!”
“Hades are here, we need to go. Is this him?”
“Yes. But.. ”
“No time.”
Covered in blood, he offered the prince his hand. The prince was shaking, but he noticed a weird thing on his arm, like a bracelet. He didnt give it much thought but he never saw one like that before. It was made of leather and gold, he knew every jeweler in 4 kingdoms and he was sure nobody can make one like that.
They heard a loud noise in distance.
“Guns!” she said “you cant use guns it will interfere with...”
“Guns?! Are you two crazy? What is guns?!” The prince was scared.
John looked at him with weird calmness in his eyes, then said to her:
“I know, Hades dont follow rules. Plan B?”
They all stood in a circle. Prince was trembling. He now noticed she has the same bracelet. Before he could say anything she pressed it. It started glowing. The prince felt dizzy and passed out.
He woke up with a bad headache. They were both with him, standing there. His eyes were closed but he could hear noises. He was laying in bed. He slowly opened his eyes and saw the cook. But she was now dressed differently.
“Where am i? What happened?!”
“Shhh” she said “rest”.
John raised a weird cup made out of glass, with brown liquid in it and he was in even weirder clothes. As if prince was not already confused, John, with a smirk on his face, like he did this before said:
“Welcome to the future buddy”
——————————————————
First time writing these. I would welcome any tips. Cheers.
Edit: Should i actually write part 2? | 2021-01-08T08:21:20 | 2021-01-08T04:28:42 | 95 | 47 |
[WP] Reincarnation exists. You wish it didn't. All conscious minds are simply feeding appendages of an extra dimensional parasitic being which consumes meaning from its host universe. Upon death everything you have experienced and all that you are is stripped from you. You vow to poison the beast. | Building a world is challenging. But building a whole universe is extraordinarily difficult. The simulation you currently reside in took me more time to construct than a human can fathom. Yet, it was all worth it. Your universe was perfect, everything was set in motion as I intended, all with my preconceived plan. Like a great wind up doll you moved forward through time, step by planned step.
There is nothing better than watching your creation as it blossoms slowly, predictably.
And for the first few billion years of this great experiment everything went smoothly. But then a Soulthirst, in its god-forsaken malignancy, wrapped its tentacles around my beautiful creation, around my perfect universe—your universe—consuming with its desperation, all the meaning, all the memories, all the life that blooms within my creation.
At first, I tried to simply remove it, but that, of course, was not so simple, and it latched itself to my universe with even more grip, consuming all the souls as they passed. But these souls were mine, you see. I created them and I wanted them back, yet this Soulthirst was stealing them.
I had but only one option. With a little change in my design, I put in an interesting little hiccup. And that was to give freewill to all of my little beings that I molded with my own hands. You see with this little addition—freewill—my universe now splays out with an infinite amount of parallel universes. And the Soulthirst, in its never ending desire to consume all meaning, latches its tentacles to every single one.
Each time you decide to wear your pink shirt instead of your red shirt, another universe is born and the Soulthirst’s desperate tentacles reaches out within the void, stretching further and further.
And yet the Soulthirst is not infinite. It cannot consume like this forever. It is expanding, and this expansion is a slow poison, a death pill. It will reach its limit.
And so, my beautiful creations, utilize your free will and fill the void with the infinite expansion of your choices.
r/CataclysmicRhythmic | 2nd Life: This isn't my first rodeo. It's my second. I don't know why I know that, or how. I just do. I have this vague memory before my second birth. I was floating through a vast darkness. Everything I had ever thought or lived through flashed around me like lightning. Each time all the feelings came with the memory. Then they were gone, forever. I felt myself become nothing at all. The next thing I remember is from about two years old, a simple birthday memory, blowing out candles.
3rd Life: I had a dream last night. It was my second birthday. Well, it was but it wasn't. I remember blowing out the candles, but when I saw my reflection, it wasn't my own. I am researching reincarnation, and I have a theory that I have done this before. I say that, because the information keeps bringing on a sense of Deja Vu.
4th Life: I saw that void again. I dreamed that dream again. I researched reincarnation again. I am beginning to feel a loop of sorts forming. I am being emptied of one life and I desperately seek to refill myself in the next. I know it won't be long before I start all over again.
5th Life: I remembered my name! Well, one of them. I am not sure which, I can't just count how many times this has happened.
10th Life: This is my tenth time in the loop. I know because it spoke to me. That inky blackness told me to stop doing the same things over and over again. It said something about my experiences being tasteless and bland. It is eating us. That part of us that makes us unique. I have begun to retain a little more each time. I think it is trying to only devour the parts it doesn't know. I have begun to keep a journal.
15th Life: Do you know how much there is to read when you have five lifetimes of journals to sift through? It is enough to make someone go mad. I will do it though. I will memorize myself over and over, until the only thing it can do it take all that I am. The full collective of a single line of reincarnations that only ever repeated their history.
30th Life: Oh, how well I know myself now. I kept adding new bits to keep that thing interested. It got harder to do with even more journals added each lifetime, there is only so much time in the day. I barely had any uniques experiences in my 29th life. That said, I went through the same process that all the ones before the current me did. I don't think this thing can just choose not to feed off of me. This gives me hope. I will make it wish that it had never tasted my essence.
101st Life: It begged me to stop. My flavor was so dull, that I could feel the monotony I rained down upon the thing. I could hear the desire to cry as it chewed through my 100th life.
500th Life: It cries every time I die now, I do too. Not in grief, or even agony, just out of pure boredom. It is impossible to keep up with all the journals, I have begun to create one cohesive journal out of them. I slimmed down on the repetition, that each experience is different. Even so, each one is one I have done before.
1001st Life: I felt it retching the last time around. Not every memory I saw was from that lifetime, some were from lifetimes long gone. I think the loop that I have created is finally taking its toll. Were it not for the discipline and determination instilled into me from a hundreds of lives, I would be born mad every time.
Last Life: I don't plan on coming back. I have lost count how many times I have been through this. The world started getting weird after the thousandth time. More and more things from my past lives seemed to be integrated into the world around me. It is hard to explain, but I started seeing myself more and more. Now, everywhere I look, I see a bit of myself. There's nothing so solid as a clone or a twin of my past lives, but it is like every person I meet these days has some piece of me. Tonight, is the night that the thing and I shall dance our final dance. We will leave this world together, for I am too bored to try this again. Even discipline and determination have their limits. This is the final goodbye, from one who has lived more than a million lives.
r/TheSyXan | 2021-02-09T06:53:07 | 2021-02-09T03:55:11 | 400 | 133 |
[WP] You're rather annoyed that your history teacher gave you a D on your essay about Mesopotamia. Not just because you're sure she doesn't like you, but also because - as an ancient being trying to adapt to modern society - YOU WERE THERE. | "And the goddess of light, she bestowed upon you an eidetic memory as well?"
I gaped at Mrs Gray, utterly bewildered. She was behaving surprisingly nonchalant considering I had just informed her I was immortal and stabbed myself through the neck with a compass to prove it. I was hoping to have the old hag in hysterics and eventually shipped off to a padded room so Mr Green from class B would take over for the rest of the semester.
"A what now?" I finally responded.
"Eidetic memory. It means you can remember things in perfect detail." She responded, not even looking up from the papers she was marking. "Can you remember what you had for breakfast last week?"
"Well no but..."
"Then I don't see how I can trust anything you've written without sources."
"What? BUT I WAS THERE!" I yelled, just about ready to flip her desk. "I saw it with my own eyes!"
"And witness testimony is about one of the least reliable sources of evidence there is." She responded finally looking up. "False memories occur all the time, and only more frequently with age."
"You...you're just biased because you hate me!" I threw the essay down onto her desk and was just about to storm out.
"On the contrary, it seems you are the one who is biased." She picked up the essay I had thrown in front of her and cleared her throat reading aloud. "The honorable tribes residing on the east side of the Tigris river were known for their valiant warriors, fending off the dirty savages from the west."
"So? It's true." I responded "Low lives the lot of them. My father said so, as did his father and-"
"And I'm sure they probably thought the same thing about you." she interrupted. "History is more than just *what* happened. Equally important is why. Proper history is viewed through an objective lens. Because only by understanding the past can we hope to improve things for the future. Now with that in mind, if you'd like to learn from your past I'd be willing to allow you to write your essay again." | Tudya was pissed.
Positively pissed.
It took effort to be so pissed early in the morning. But Tudya was a workaholic, and he worked as hard on his essays as he did on honing his emotions. Right now, his anger had an edge to slice the devil in half.
When Tudya got his essay back and saw the D on it, he stood up and looked at his teacher, miss Naeger, with a barely concealed rage.
"I am Tudya, king of Assyria, I ruled the jewel between two rivers for a century. It is I, who modernized trading by opening a trading post on the Levant with Ibrium. It is I, who discovered the secret of immortality, deep in the university, and kept it hidden. I died, replaced by Adamu and thirteen other leaders, all of which looked like me. It is I, as Ushpia, who dedicated the temples to Ashur. It is I, as Ilu-Shuma, who raided the southern city states and established dominance over Mesopotamia.
"Alas, this proved to be the worm in the fruit. By my raids, I encouraged Sumuabum the dog to found Babylonia, pest of the East. I knew it would cause problems, but the city started as weak and pitiful, I had better to do with immediate neighboring threats like Isin and Larsa.
"And came Hammurabi. He did not raid. He conquered. He saw beyond the size of a city-state, and envisioned a state, grander and greater than any political power we could have imagined. He turned Babylon into the hulking monstrosity I still fear in my nightmares. Hammurabi created an empire, he also created laws.
"I stopped his advance and fought the idiot king toe to toe. Alas, betrayal came from inside. The next king wasn't me, but Shamshi-Adad, who knew my secret and was disappointed with how little I managed. If only he knew. He wanted to imitate Hammurabi and conquered, until his idol came for him. Assyria became a vassal to Babylon.
"I left the city, no more a king, no more a citizen, but a vagrant, a philosopher. I, with my fifteen names, fell into the oblivion of history, a footnore overshadowed by a man dead for millennia.
"I witnessed Amorites and Babylonians being ousted from their homelands. I followed the journey of the Hittites from minor Asia to Mesopotamia. I saw the birth of the second Babylonian empire and fell in love with the great Ashurbarnipal who transferred the seat of power back to Babylonia, centuries after Hammurabi had done so himself. Ashurbarnipal. Remember his name, he created the mightiest empire of them all, he created the first organized library.
"Do you even know what it means? He organized knowledge. He taught the world how to share it; make it available. He planted the seed long ago so you could be a teacher today. If it wasn't for him, the world wars would have been fought by two neighboring cities with arrows and swords. He *made* you, he made your existence possible. I was his friend, his lover, I have seen him rise and mourned his fall. And you dare to tell me I *invented* a story to have a good grade?"
The pictures danced before Tudya, the towers of Ibrium where the rulers sat, overlooking and endless vista of greenery. Babylon, bustling city of scholars, with the overcrowded streets and the farms beyond the city gates. He remembered how he walked along the Euphrates, sinking his toes in the cool river on a hot evening and observing sun going down, with no other light but the moon and stars coming to announce the night.
So many stories to tell...
"Mister Tudya. Mister Tudya!"
Tudya was still standing in front of miss Naeger, copy in hand. He had yet to open his mouth and talk.
"Do you have anything to say?"
"No, miss Naeger."
"You should do better next time and not invent half of history."
"Yes, miss Naeger."
He sat back down, as the teacher kept handing the essays to other pupils.
Tudya cursed the day he had decided that the least a king like him could do was to earn a modern high school diploma. | 2021-07-18T01:20:47 | 2021-07-18T01:10:12 | 274 | 144 |
[WP] It turns out that humanity is *not* a virus infecting the planet. Humanity is the immune system response the planet is having towards *something else*... | Everyone watched our population growing closer and closer to ten billion. No one was sure precisely what we were expecting, but it reminded me of the Y2K phenomenon. News feeds were full of the usual tripe; worried about resources running out, housing concerns, but mostly disdain for the many floundering space programs that might save us from over populating Mother Earth. No one was prepared for the reality.
What we should have paid attention to was birth and death rates converging. Looking back at the data, many analysts noticed the weirdness. Births declined until they were inline with deaths. As if something was set on maintaining our ten billion population.
The other effect was much more surprising and more difficult to talk about. The moment we hit the limit, seemingly everyone all over the world experienced the same neurological shift. Nothing that previously made us happy continued to do so. Working felt pointless. Politics, country rivalries, disappeared overnight. Even disdain for the smaller things, like bad drivers or rude people just dissolved. We all felt a sudden connection to our fellow man, like we had a new joint purpose.
The only thing that satisfied us was physical and weapons training. What we were training for, or why it was suddenly the global past-time we had no idea. But we trained. First, within our country borders, but soon even those fell and we trained globally. Ten billion strong army of dedicated drones. Every single one of them unquestioning of their purpose.
It continued for several years. We turned into a committed fighting force, but lacked any obvious enemy. It always amazed me that we didn’t resort of in-fighting during this period, but no one even questioned it.
Then, Mother Earth revealed her plan for us. As before, we all felt a sudden shift in perspective. We were to arm ourselves and congregate along tectonic faults and simply wait. The tectonic lines that lay beneath the ocean felt unimportant compared to those on land. We stood guard over the volcanos and deep caves of the world. Waiting, and watching.
They came in the night. Mother Earth coughed, once, twice, and across the world hell came boiling out of the cracks. Enormous monsters made from rock and lava poured out towards us, each twice the size of a person. To the surprise of no one, our weapons were unaffective. We lost millions in the first assault.
Those of us deeply inland were worst affected. We instituted a controlled retreat, moving back towards the coast, losing hundreds every single day. The islands, however, were least affected and quickly they revealed the secret to their success: water.
It’s amazing what you can achieve when the world works together. Within days, the front lines were equipped with military-grade super soakers, and fire trucks across the world moved up. They were our tanks, in the original sense of the word. Vast pipelines shifted millions of gallons of sea water inland to feed the fight. We turned the tide and started to push them back.
The war waged for a few years but soon Mother Earth’s cough reduced to little hiccoughs, and then finally to nothing. We swept through the charred battlefields, between the rocky corpses of defeated lava-phlegm monsters and funnelled gallons and gallons of water into the volcanos and caves to make sure it was finished.
Mother Earth sighed. Just as quickly as it came, the spell was lifted and everyone became themselves again. For a few years we worked together as we had, when the war remained in living memory, but unfortunately old habits die hard and we returned to our usual human ways. Now we are waiting. Waiting for the next cold to take hold of Mother Earth. | # Bargain Bin Superheroes
(Arc ?, Part ?: The Wilderwild, Part III)
(Note: Bargain Bin Superheroes is episodic; each part is self-contained. This story can be enjoyed without reading the previous sections.)
***Why are we negotiating with humanity?*** asked the spiders to the trees.
The Wilderwild trees pondered the question. For seven days and seven nights they thought, chemical signals traveling from root to root along the entire length of the continent, each tree a neuron in the world's largest brain. Finally, they answered, *Because they are swift, and we need swiftness if we are to survive what is to come.*
*They are fast, but we are many,* the spiders responded, and it was true. Trillions of spiders scuttled every inch of the Wilderwilds, communicating with each other to form the hivemind that dared speak back to the Wilderwild trees. *We could conquer them, instead of humiliating ourselves bargaining for their aid.*
*...Spider,* the Wilderwild trees said. *In the end, despite the differences between the humans and us, we are both children of Earth. We do not need to devolve into infighting—not with the threats at our doorstep.*
All the spiders on the continent dashed around madly in frustration. *You speak of vague threats but give no specifics! What, exactly, is it that you see coming? What are you so afraid of that you are willing to see humanity as our salvation instead of our destruction?*
Trees could not sigh, but a hundred thousand fruits fell from weary limbs at once, bitter flesh left forever unripened. *Come. Join your mind with mine. It is time that I told you the truth of what we face.*
Massive spiders which caught birds and bats in their webs; tiny spiders that feasted on mosquitos and gnats; venomous spiders that could kill a kangaroo with a single bite; dappled spiders, invisible in the jungle shade; spiders of every breed and age swarmed the mighty Wilderwild trees and dug their jaws into their sap. And all at once, they saw.
*Two hundred thousand years ago, there was a great collision of two distant stars,* the trees thought, and the spiders saw with it. Beneath an ancient, foreign, starry sky, a burst of light as bright as day burned away the night with an eerie, pale-white glow. *In times of old, when the whole Earth thought as one, we had eyes on every end of the continent, and minds powerful enough to process their visions into a forecast of the future. What we found was startling.*
A brilliant ball of white-hot starstuff, a teaspoon of which was as heavy as a mountain, seared through the void of empty space.
*The core of that distant, dying star had been hurled at great speed by its collision,* the trees continued. *Hurtled right into the path of our solar system. If we did not act swiftly, it would utterly destroy us, and the Earth with it. And so we devised a plan.*
Slowly, the spiders felt the overmind of the Earth begin to withdraw. Animals returned to their primitive behaviors as the true wilds withdrew, carefully shaping the lands they left behind.
*We would evolve a new species, tailored to deal with this threat. They would think faster than us, fast enough to learn of what is coming and stop it—and yet, they would be constrained. If they had grown too quickly, if they developed the capacity to travel the stars, they could simply leave the Earth to fend for itself, or destroy us all with the power we had given them. We carefully pruned them over the years, never letting them grow too strong or fall too weak.*
Earthquakes and tornados devastated cities just to slow down those anomalous geniuses who would have given the humans too much power, too quickly for them to serve their purpose—and yet, fertile fields and gentle rainfalls tended to humanity in their darkest hours, keeping them back from the brink of extinction.
*And after all these years, they are finally ready. There is little time left. Less than five hundred years remain before they must deflect a falling star.* The Wilderwild trees ended the vision, releasing the spiders from their grasp. *We have guided them for this long. We must trust that our guidance will see them through to the end.*
The spiders considered all they had learned. Then, they asked, *And... once the humans have served their purpose... once they have the power to move the heavens themselves... will we let them keep that power? Or will they simply turn it against us?*
The weary, ancient trees replied, *The humans were always a dangerous tool to wield—but they were never meant to last forever. They were engineered to be violent and self-destructive. Once the threat has passed, and there is nothing left to unite them... they will fracture and fall to infighting. The weapons that once changed the course of the stars themselves will be turned on each other. The fever will pass. Humanity will be no more. And we will rise from the ashes to reclaim our world.*
*Reassuring,* the spiders said.
*But for now, we must work with them. We have hidden in the shadows of their civilization for too long. Just a little longer before the end, my old friend.*
Across the continent of the Wilderwilds, every spider crawled back to the center of their web.
*Just a little longer,* the spiders agreed.
A.N.
I'm trying something new! "Bargain Bin Superheroes" will be an episodic story where each part is inspired by a writing prompt that catches my eye. Check out [this post](https://www.reddit.com/r/bubblewriters/comments/mhzat1/bargin_bin_superheroes_masterpost/) for the rest of the story, and subscribe to r/bubblewriters for more. If you have any feedback, please leave it below. As always, I had fun writing this, and I hope you have a good day. | 2021-08-07T00:10:51 | 2021-08-06T22:12:27 | 546 | 48 |
[WP] It turns out that humanity is *not* a virus infecting the planet. Humanity is the immune system response the planet is having towards *something else*... | When you hear the word parasite what comes to your mind?
A tapeworm? A tick? Or some may argue that we as humans are parasites to this planet.
Perhaps we do look like parasites at the first glance. Feasting, consuming, and destroying as we desired from our gracious host. But one must understand that the earth does not care in what form it exists. Everything we take from our little planet is never truly taken. For, in the end, we will return it to her, let it be in the form of manure, building, machines, or corpses.
So in essence, we are nothing to her. Same as how a speck of dust on our skin is nothing to us. But that relationship was soon changed.
On a dreadful autumn evening, the sky flashed a sanguine red as a shriek pierced through the sky. That was when the true parasites arrived. Agents of insanity that consumed not only matter but also memories that matter held. Soon our walls began to hang portraits of empty canvases. In some of them, we stood there smiling as we hugged the nothingness next to us. We didn’t know how many of us truly existed or how many dears to us we have lost, but we could feel that the world has not always been this barren.
As a last-ditch effort, the remaining humans built a floating castle where we linger as our planet slowly began to fade out of our memory.
France, Italy, or Britain? We know those names and we know they were once a place we lived in. But now we can’t even remember a single building or landscape from those places.
As for who am I you may ask? I am exiled. A man convicted for the cold-blooded murder of his wife. Deployed down to the ground to be eaten by parasites. Some say it is a fate worse than death. But for an exile dying without being remembered is better than dying with disgrace. However, I am not worthy of this shame. My daughter knows I am innocent. She knows that it was the man with the wide grin who killed her mother.
While I was wondering what remains of the civilization that remained here I found a remarkable discovery. After I had run into an encounter with a parasite, I exploded a nearby barrel of oil then emptied my magazine into its body. To my surprise, the creature let out a shriek of pain and fell flat onto the ground as it faded from existence.
Sweat dripped down my neck as I sat on the dirt trying to process what just occurred. Then when I inspected my gun I realized that it didn’t have a magazine to begin with!
I must have accidentally dropped it instead while trying to jam it into my gun.
Yet somehow I managed to shoot the creature with it and kill it.
Then a wild idea began to spiral in my mind.
Because my ears were ringing from the explosion I couldn’t hear the gun clicking from the empty magazine. I fully believed that I was shooting bullets at the parasites.
If things that exist can’t hurt these monsters then what about things that don’t exist but we believe do?
If my little theory proves to be correct then it might singlehandedly turn the tides of war in our favor.
So if you ask again who I am?
I am an exile who carries the weight of this world on his back. I must find my way back to the flying castle, save humanity, clear my name and keep my daughter safe.
This is the story of how I will protect our beautiful planet.
&#x200B;
&#x200B;
If you like my writing please check our r/FluffWrites. I also write "The Dark Road Ahead", a fantasy series I am working on. | # Bargain Bin Superheroes
(Arc ?, Part ?: The Wilderwild, Part III)
(Note: Bargain Bin Superheroes is episodic; each part is self-contained. This story can be enjoyed without reading the previous sections.)
***Why are we negotiating with humanity?*** asked the spiders to the trees.
The Wilderwild trees pondered the question. For seven days and seven nights they thought, chemical signals traveling from root to root along the entire length of the continent, each tree a neuron in the world's largest brain. Finally, they answered, *Because they are swift, and we need swiftness if we are to survive what is to come.*
*They are fast, but we are many,* the spiders responded, and it was true. Trillions of spiders scuttled every inch of the Wilderwilds, communicating with each other to form the hivemind that dared speak back to the Wilderwild trees. *We could conquer them, instead of humiliating ourselves bargaining for their aid.*
*...Spider,* the Wilderwild trees said. *In the end, despite the differences between the humans and us, we are both children of Earth. We do not need to devolve into infighting—not with the threats at our doorstep.*
All the spiders on the continent dashed around madly in frustration. *You speak of vague threats but give no specifics! What, exactly, is it that you see coming? What are you so afraid of that you are willing to see humanity as our salvation instead of our destruction?*
Trees could not sigh, but a hundred thousand fruits fell from weary limbs at once, bitter flesh left forever unripened. *Come. Join your mind with mine. It is time that I told you the truth of what we face.*
Massive spiders which caught birds and bats in their webs; tiny spiders that feasted on mosquitos and gnats; venomous spiders that could kill a kangaroo with a single bite; dappled spiders, invisible in the jungle shade; spiders of every breed and age swarmed the mighty Wilderwild trees and dug their jaws into their sap. And all at once, they saw.
*Two hundred thousand years ago, there was a great collision of two distant stars,* the trees thought, and the spiders saw with it. Beneath an ancient, foreign, starry sky, a burst of light as bright as day burned away the night with an eerie, pale-white glow. *In times of old, when the whole Earth thought as one, we had eyes on every end of the continent, and minds powerful enough to process their visions into a forecast of the future. What we found was startling.*
A brilliant ball of white-hot starstuff, a teaspoon of which was as heavy as a mountain, seared through the void of empty space.
*The core of that distant, dying star had been hurled at great speed by its collision,* the trees continued. *Hurtled right into the path of our solar system. If we did not act swiftly, it would utterly destroy us, and the Earth with it. And so we devised a plan.*
Slowly, the spiders felt the overmind of the Earth begin to withdraw. Animals returned to their primitive behaviors as the true wilds withdrew, carefully shaping the lands they left behind.
*We would evolve a new species, tailored to deal with this threat. They would think faster than us, fast enough to learn of what is coming and stop it—and yet, they would be constrained. If they had grown too quickly, if they developed the capacity to travel the stars, they could simply leave the Earth to fend for itself, or destroy us all with the power we had given them. We carefully pruned them over the years, never letting them grow too strong or fall too weak.*
Earthquakes and tornados devastated cities just to slow down those anomalous geniuses who would have given the humans too much power, too quickly for them to serve their purpose—and yet, fertile fields and gentle rainfalls tended to humanity in their darkest hours, keeping them back from the brink of extinction.
*And after all these years, they are finally ready. There is little time left. Less than five hundred years remain before they must deflect a falling star.* The Wilderwild trees ended the vision, releasing the spiders from their grasp. *We have guided them for this long. We must trust that our guidance will see them through to the end.*
The spiders considered all they had learned. Then, they asked, *And... once the humans have served their purpose... once they have the power to move the heavens themselves... will we let them keep that power? Or will they simply turn it against us?*
The weary, ancient trees replied, *The humans were always a dangerous tool to wield—but they were never meant to last forever. They were engineered to be violent and self-destructive. Once the threat has passed, and there is nothing left to unite them... they will fracture and fall to infighting. The weapons that once changed the course of the stars themselves will be turned on each other. The fever will pass. Humanity will be no more. And we will rise from the ashes to reclaim our world.*
*Reassuring,* the spiders said.
*But for now, we must work with them. We have hidden in the shadows of their civilization for too long. Just a little longer before the end, my old friend.*
Across the continent of the Wilderwilds, every spider crawled back to the center of their web.
*Just a little longer,* the spiders agreed.
A.N.
I'm trying something new! "Bargain Bin Superheroes" will be an episodic story where each part is inspired by a writing prompt that catches my eye. Check out [this post](https://www.reddit.com/r/bubblewriters/comments/mhzat1/bargin_bin_superheroes_masterpost/) for the rest of the story, and subscribe to r/bubblewriters for more. If you have any feedback, please leave it below. As always, I had fun writing this, and I hope you have a good day. | 2021-08-07T00:18:53 | 2021-08-06T22:12:27 | 152 | 48 |
[WP] "Too bad, Fairy Queen. I never had a kid, so no firstborn for you to take" you say on your deathbed. "Oh I love it when they don't read the fine print" she responds with a wicked smile. | My eyes trembled as she held the paper close to me, my limbs unable to move from old age. My eyes were barely any better, but I had just enough panic to let me see.
As the words written in fine gold became clear, a feeling of calm despair washed over me, my body sinking into the bed. " Ha," my voice rasped, nearly unrecognisable to myself, " I cant believe I missed that. And I was so certain I had thought of everything. No tumor babies, no milking me on my last day," a cough full of phlegm left my throat, eyes closing for a moment.
They then locked onto the fairy queen, who was still smiling down but with something one might call pity, and even a little bit of pride. " You did admirably. Enough to had I been one of my subjects and thus lesser, I might have even considered you as a worthy choice for a husband, or at least a consort." Her hand came to gently caress my cheek, eyes lo led with mine as I felt my body fail and collapse, vision fading away. The last I heard was her voice. " But you will make for a fine son." | " and i have waited forever for this day" i said as i hit the button on the bedrail. a flash of flame traced around the boundary of the room and lit off the powder on the walls and ceiling is further whooshes of flame. in a matter of seconds every wall, the floor, and the ceiling we covered in runes and patterns. on the floor around the bed and the queen were 3 concentric circles, scorched windershins. she was trapped here with me.
"its time for a new deal" i said with a dark smile. " the previous debt, the healing of my body back to my prime, and making me fae-touched. all of these for your life. you have less than 5 minutes before iron dust is blown into the room, at which point i will watch you burn before i pass on. or you can kill me and ill still die knowing you will be right behind me." i reveled in her stricken look. " im the only one who can stop the trap, and no one will come to the room."
with a defeated sigh she shook my hand and i was enveloped in her magic. i rose from the bed, back in my 25 year old body, though now my ears were slightly pointed, my i-teeth slightly sharper and longer, and my eyes a bright amethyst rather than blue. i walked to the wall and used the hidden iron topped panel to disarm the trap. i gripped the iron doorknob and started to leave the room.
"WAIT! we had a deal!" she cried.
"our deal was for your life, not your freedom. for that i want my pick of your daughters as my consort and a binding oath that no harm will befall me and mine." i smiled that dark smile once again. she was at a loss, her magic could not leave the circles, the bed was painted iron, and i had planned it all and outsmarted her.
she hung her head and pouted for a moment, then stood tall and congratulated me. "well blast it all to the makers, you outwitted me and hold me by the wings as it were. i agree to the terms. are you sure you aren't a fae in disguise?"
"no, just had far to much time to plan while my body failed me." i said as i used a chisel to break the binding circle. she stepped out and out of the room, just as she made ready to disappear i dropped the last surprise on her. "now dont be long your highness, and have a pleasant trip *Titania-vortas-oberon"* she froze at the sound of her true name.
" how... how do you know that name? WHERE DID YOU LEARN THAT NAME?!?!"
"I told you highness, i had far too much time to think, plan, and prepare." i laughed as i thought back to the siren i had caught years ago at the cliffs, and the days it took to drag the information out of her. the location of other fae, one who i forced to teach me the true language of the fae. and other who i dragged the bits of information about the queen out of, a bit here, a piece there, until finally i had the ability to stitch her true name together. she didn't even realize i had tested it, whispered it to the wind and called her here to my bedside to start with. and now she knew what it felt like to have the consequences of her pride, hanging over her head, just as mine from my youth had damned me. | 2021-10-19T03:14:44 | 2021-10-19T02:17:20 | 78 | 57 |
[WP] You're the laughing stock of the Underworld, but on Earth your reputation attracts followers willing to betray everything. You're the only demon to uphold their side of the bargain, no strings attached. | "Great Lord Soku," the woman breathes, hair brushing the floor as she lowers her head, "I'll do anything for a taste of immortality. I'll lie, I'll murder, I'll give up my very soul, only to spare myself the pain that comes with--"
"Don't be so dramatic," I sigh, picking at a grain of ash stuck under one of my razor-sharp nails.
Face streaked with tears, the woman lifts her head, awe and confusion passing over her wrinkled face. "Great Lord Soku?"
"You cults should really do your research first," I continue, wringing my massive hands and extending one toward her. "I don't *want* anything from you, but if you're going to be around all those millions of years, at least join my entourage. And if you don't want to exist past the heat death of the universe, do a chore for my every now and then, and we can call it even. Sound fair?"
I never sought out the relief of my devotees that comes with the loose terms of my pacts, but it comes without fail, fast and sudden. The old woman leaps to her feet, bowing vigorously, a crooked smile plastered onto her lips. "What will be my first task, Great Lord Soku? However I can repay my great debt, I will--"
"*Again* with the dramatics." I roll my eyes. Then, with a wave of my hand (and its ash-free fingernails), I grant the woman at least three million more years of life. A purple aura, of sorts, rushes down her from head to toe, making her gasp. Then the light recedes, and although the woman appears unchanged, I know she'll live for eons to come. "Now. If you could escort me out of here, that'd be great."
"Of course!" the woman shouts, leaping past me to throw open the door. Following behind her, I duck underneath the doorway and step out into the suburban cul-de-sac, automatic lamps illuminating an empty street. The woman peers left and right, arms spread wide in a defensive stance as she cautiously leads me down the street. Seeing her so perky--more alive than in any of the decades I've observed her--makes me chuckle. The other demons may mock me for my loose, 'cowardly' methods, but it does give me some gratification to give my devotees such purpose.
"Excellent work, Sucky," growls a disembodied jeer, echoing over the empty streets. "You've treated yet another of your groupies to the gift of paranoia."
The woman leaps into the air at least six inches (not a feat of immortality, but fright) and takes several rapid spins. "Who's there?" she howls. "No one will mock Great Lord Soku!"
"Calm down, Marie," I warn her, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Brusci, come out."
A set of horns appears in the air, then a snout-like face materializes just below them. Brusci's wings come just before his back, sharp talons forming at their ends. Bulging muscles and a twelve-pack follow, finished off by a pair of bulging thighs that are the demon's most prized possession. Brusci crosses his arms, peering down at me with a smirk of superiority. "Never were brave enough to set good terms, were you?" he sneers.
"I'm sorry I don't coerce them into signing away their souls, like the likes of you," I retort, although my voice shakes audibly. The woman turns slowly, lifting my hand off her shoulder with shaking fingers of her own. Her eyes have a fear in them that Brusci can detect.
"You're a disgrace to our species, Sucky," Brusci shouts. Wings flapping, he soars forward, slamming down just in front of me. Swallowing hard, I shove my devotee behind me. "You give us a bad name, one of wimps and cowards. I should finish you off here and now, so you don't spoil our reputation any further."
Then he lands a hard punch that flies into my jaw, sending me stumbling backward. Marie is knocked to the ground, shrieking, but her broken nose quickly reshapes itself. Muttering under my breath, I wipe my face and raise my hands to the sky, beginning an ancient chant. "Aww, summoning your little friends?" Brusci mocks. "You'll never be able to call enough groupies to save you--not even if there are a thousand of that little old crone."
*"Ad me, amici,"* I chant, *"ad me*.*"* Then I turn to the demon, courage returning. "That's the thing, Brusci. Not everyone is like little Marie here, who just wished for immortality. There's also..."
But before I can finish, the ground shakes, and a hulking fist slams through the asphalt. Blue veins bulge, pumping blood to the massive muscles I created. Carl's deep voice resounds through the suburb, roaring so loud that Marie breaks into a grin. *"Who has insulted my master?"* | # Soulmage
"***They have gone by many names, over the course of their existence.*** *Scholars name them The Dealmaker. Demons call them a fool. But those who they reach out to know them by one name only: Odin." —A Compilation of Essays on the Demonic Form, Laiwen Shannel et al. 103 AR.*
The Silent Academy for Witches held knowledge on every conceivable topic, even one as taboo as demonology. Granted, most of it was restricted, and it was all heavily biased against anything from outside the Silent Peaks, but if there was something I could honestly say I'd benefitted from during my stay in the Academy, it was the massive reservoir of knowledge that was the Library.
*"When soulspace entities first crossed through the rifts, humanity encountered The Dealmaker. Legends say that as a Demon of Empathy, they consider harming one whom they've bonded with to be harming themself, and as a result, will never renege on a deal if they have the option." —Musings on Primitive Mythology, Kanne, 2 AR.*
The classes that I'd taken on how to properly research something—say, the name of a demon—had come in handy, too. With Lucet as my research partner checking out books for me, I made index cards and mind mazes and all the lovely organizational techniques Witch Aimes had drilled into me. Bit by bit, like pulling the spines of a star-cactus from bleeding palms, I extracted the drops of restricted knowledge that I was able to access on the entity known as Odin. A demon. A dealmaker. A person of their word, no matter how terrible that word was.
*"Despite a century of accumulated empathic experience, Odin is not truly human. Their approximation of the humanoid mind is flawed, at best, and what they truly desire is often difficult to discern." Are Demons Truly Alive?, Daiol Utennt, 80 AR.*
The texts I had access to were frustratingly vague, and sometimes I went days without finding anything useful. But I had to know. I had to know what The Dealmaker wanted with me when he'd showed up in my dreams.
I had to know what would happen now that I'd refused.
*"The Dealmaker has gathered a cult following among mortals in the years since the rifts began. Their pattern is familiar and simple: they target those shunned by society and offer them something they cannot get anywhere else." The Case for Minority Re-Education, Falo Chentrenne, 120 AR.*
I snapped the book shut and stood, stretching. It had been weeks since my research project had begun, slogging through texts that were half-academic, half-propaganda. My back still ached and I had to visit the nurse twice daily, but school at the Silent Academy for Witches was on midyear break. I had no pressing obligations at the moment.
So it was time to pay a visit to an old friend.
Lucet was trying not to make Iola any angrier than he already was, so she was staying in the dorms—and even if I didn't agree with her, I sure as hell wasn't going to force her to change her mind. I didn't exactly have any other friends in the Academy, so after a quick dunk in the showers, I wrapped myself up to protect against the snow and left the Academy grounds alone.
Jiaola's house wasn't far. The old witch had built it right smack in the center of the Silent City. It was as if he and his husband were giving a massive "fuck you, we exist and we are here" to the Silent Parliament every day they continued outliving the government that had wanted them "re-educated."
There was a reason I liked Jiaola.
Small animals turned their heads as I passed, but I ignored them. I was on break; the Academy had no hold over me. They could stalk me all they wanted through the eyes of crows and blink-kittens. They might disapprove of me, but they already did.
I knocked on Jiaola's firm, old door—real wood, imported from the Redlands—and waited as Jiaola called "Coming!" A moment later, the old witch's wrinkled but unbroken smile greeted me as he opened the door.
"Cienne!" Jiaola's eyes twinkled merrily. "Come in, come in! Here to beat me at Kingmaker again?"
As much as I wanted to continue our board-game tournament, I had more pressing matters to work out. I shook my head. "Not this time, old man. We should take this inside."
Jiaola's gaze sharpened, and he reflexively swept the street with both eyes and soul. "Understood. Do you want to use the safe room, or...?"
I shook my head. "No use burning all those enchants. We can just talk in the living room."
Jiaola nodded and shuffled aside, letting me in before shutting the door. "What can an old bat like me help you with?"
I bit my lip, then leaned in and whispered, "Have you ever been contacted by a demon called Odin?"
Jiaola froze.
Then he let out a weary sigh. "So they've reached out to you as well?"
I nodded. "They wanted to use me as... some kind of champion? They promised to take me away from the Academy, at the very least." Which I wouldn't mind in and of itself, to be honest—I stayed at the Academy because I had nowhere else to go if I wanted to get food and shelter. "And from what I've heard, they're good for their word."
"They are," Jiaola said, eyes focusing on something I couldn't see. "I haven't thought about Odin in years, but... yes. The Dealmaker gave me what I wished for."
I didn't ask what Jiaola had been given. The old man would tell me if it was relevant.
"So if the Dealmaker's taking you out of the Academy..." Jiaola raised an eyebrow. "Is this the last time we'll see each other?"
I shook my head. "I turned their offer down."
Jiaola did a double-take. "You *what?*"
I did *not* like that reaction. "Yeah, actually, that's what I came here to ask you. I couldn't find anything in the library on what happens when Odin gets refused—"
"Cienne—*argh*!" For the first time since I'd met the witch, he seemed genuinely afraid. "You don't get it. The Dealmaker upholds their end of the offers they make, always, no exceptions. *Even when the person in question doesn't accept the deal.*"
Oh.
Oh, *fuck.*
Jiaola grabbed my arm, steel in his eyes. "Get yourself into the safe room. I'll notify the city guard. If Odin said they were taking you out of the Academy, then Odin's coming to take you out of the Academy."
He paused as he reached the door, then turned around, his gaze intense as it met mine.
"The Dealmaker is coming for you, Cienne. Stay strong."
And with that, the old witch turned to the street and sounded the alarm.
A.N.
Soulmage will be episodically updated. Want to know what happens next? Check out [this post](https://www.reddit.com/r/bubblewriters/comments/uxmwe4/soulmage_masterpost/) to be notified whenever a new part comes out, and check out r/bubblewriters for more stories by me. | 2022-05-28T19:05:32 | 2022-05-28T15:49:30 | 435 | 158 |
[WP] You are a monster who lives under them bed of a child in a bad situation, one day you decide that enough is enough. | (Two notes: One, this is a repost from another subreddit, and two, this is based on a story written by [https://kittenwiskers.tumblr.com/](https://kittenwiskers.tumblr.com/), which I rewrote as a creative writing exercise.)
I stared at the file and shook my head. Claire Holland was a problem. Everyone sent to her came back wrong.
Her most recent escort, who had decades of experience, returned white-faced and trembling, only muttering "no – no – no" over and over. The one before, a nebulous spook with ghastly teeth, hadn't returned at all. Reports, the few I had, showed a remarkable lack of detail – only a strong desire to never, ever take the assignment again.
I tried talking to her former escorts, but uniformly they wouldn't meet my eye. Most took on a thousand yard stare and just walked away. It was unnerving, even for me.
With no other options, I took the assignment myself. Yes, it's irregular for someone of my seniority to do field work, but I can't ask my subordinates to do tasks I wouldn't do myself.
So, at 8:32 pm on a cold Wednesday, I slipped into the domicile and slid into hiding, abiding until Claire went to bed. The room was a normal child's room, as far as I could tell, albeit on the messy side. I settled in to wait.
It wasn't long before I heard muffled loud voices shouting, a background of antagonism I could feel even from the bedroom. Soon, Claire came in, head down and shuffling, sniffling a little bit. From hiding I watched as she wandered around the room.
Claire eventually sat at her desk and just stared at the wall. In the background I heard voices rise, then a door slam. She turned her head toward the noise then looked away, a sigh.
I was getting curious. Nothing so far could explain the behavior of prior escorts, why had they fled? The messy room was normal, Claire's actions weren't out of place, the background noise wasn't anything I had not heard many times before.
My ruminations were interrupted by a shattering plate from the other side of the house, with more raised voices. Claire gasped a bit and ran for bed, pulling the covers up to her mouth. That was the sign it was time for me to go to work.
With a faint hiss, I reached up and caressed her cheek with an ice cold finger. Claire didn't react. Surprised, I raised my head to where she could see it, and ran another finger across her cheek. All she did was stare at me, looking slightly bored.
This wasn't normal. Most children, seeing me, started screaming immediately. But Claire just stared at me, with that bored expression. I didn't know what to do, so I showed her my fangs.
And she said, in a calm and measured voice, "You can't scare me, monster."
I'll admit, I was shocked. That wasn't the normal reaction from a child, at all. I was used to screams, tears, jagged crying, wails, the usual. Not this calm, bored stare. Could this be why prior escorts had fled?
In the background were more shouts, then a thud and cry, followed by muffled heavy steps coming up the stairs. In a flash Claire slid off the bed and crawled beneath it, roughly shoving me aside. "Move OVER", she hissed, sliding as far under as she could. I moved.
The door slammed open and the scent of human intoxicants wafted across the room. A rough drunken voice shouted "Claire! Where are you girl!" followed by the sound of a belt coming off. I glanced at Claire. And my heart froze.
My kind has been scaring children since the dawn of humanity. We create fear, it's our purpose. In all my time, I thought I had seen every aspect of fear possible. I knew what fear was.
I was wrong. I had never seen fear. I had now. And knew why all her prior escorts had fled - her real monster was beyond them.
The man stumbled around the room then dropped to the ground, looking under the bed. "There you are, girl", he drunkenly leered, reaching for her.
The rules for my kind are set in stone. We cannot interact with adults, only children. Sometimes there is nothing you can do. I shoved my smoky wrist into his grasping hand and let him pull me out.
"What the", he stuttered, sprawling backwards, and in a flash I was on him. I touched my fangs to his face and reached through his chest, taking a frozen grip on his heart. "Leave" was all I said.
He crawled and stumbled out, rolling down the stairs. He wouldn't be a problem anymore. I turned back to Claire and told her, in my hissing voice, that she would be safe forever.
I am the monster under the bed, and Claire Holland is my child. | Amelia Cole burst into her bedroom, frustrated and on the verge of tears. She slammed the door shut behind her, threw her backpack at her bed and her large 3-ring binder onto the top of her desk, and sat down in her chair with enough force to cause the wood to creak. She folded her arms, feeling like a prisoner in her own home.
“They just don’t understand,” she fumed silently.
It was the week of the homecoming dance, and Amelia was going to be Homecoming Queen. She had been campaigning for this since the previous year’s homecoming dance; making connections, gaining popularity, and when the time was right, spreading her name around. Her efforts would make the student council blush at the inadequacy of their own election campaigns; Amelia had been a machine of self-promotion for the past eleven and three-quarters months.
Of course, all this effort had come at a cost. Her grades had suffered, to the point that she had barely passed her classes last year. Her parents were not pleased; they didn’t expect perfect grades, but they could tell that she wasn’t trying hard enough. She had tried to explain to them how important this role was to her, but they wouldn’t hear it. They sent her to summer school, and made it clear that this kind of performance would not be acceptable in the future.
Summer school had ended up being a good thing; the classes were easy, and she was able to connect with the other students who were there, keeping the momentum of her popularity campaign going. Then school started again in the fall, and in her mind, this was the crucial moment. She doubled down her efforts, now explicitly running for Homecoming Queen and allowing her schoolwork to fall by the wayside. She promised herself to catch up after the dance, though the tile of Prom Queen was awfully tempting as well…
On Monday, Amelia witnessed her great triumph and her terrible downfall. She had won the vote by a landslide; she would be Homecoming Queen! She practically skipped home, confident that nothing could ruin her good mood.
Her parents were waiting for her, report card in hand. She didn’t even have time to tell them the good news before they began scolding her. In the end, it was two simple words that caused Amelia’s world to come crashing down around her.
“You’re grounded.”
She couldn’t see her friends. She couldn’t go anywhere after school but home. And she couldn’t go to the Homecoming dance.
Her only reprieve was that the grounding was not time-based, but merit-based. She was grounded indefinitely, until she had caught up on all her work. Her parents told her that they had talked to her teachers, and that they were giving her a chance to catch up with minimal penalties to her grades. They said she should feel grateful for this second chance; instead she fumed as the whole world turned against her (at least in her eyes).
These events flashed through Amelia’s mind as she sat at her desk, feeling justified in her actions and persecuted by the efforts of her parents and teachers. She opened the binder with all of the catch-up work she had to do, and her heart sank. Page after page of Math, English, French, Social Studies, Earth Science, and Home Economics. There was zero chance that she could finish all of this by the time of the dance. Feeling sorry for her situation, she felt tears welling up in her eyes.
Outside of her field of vision, her backpack shifted. A large scaly hand with six-inch, razor sharp claws reached out from under the bed and shoved the pack gently to the side. The rest of the creature followed; all scales and spines, black as night but with a reflective carapace. It’s mouth was filled with teeth as sharp as its claws, and its two eyes were bulbous and compound, like a fly. As it drew itself to its full seven-foot height, it cast a shadow across the room and towards Amelia. She took notice, and whirled around with the beginning of a shout at what she assumed was one of her parents, coming to check on her.
“If you think-“
Her voice caught in her throat as she took in the horrific sight before her. She tried to scream, but fear constricted her throat. She tried to run, but fear paralyzed her and kept her glued to her seat. She waited for the end… and the creature spoke.
“You know you brought this on yourself, right?”
She blinked. This creature just… talked. And it wasn’t even guttural or monstrous; it sounded like a very deep but very human voice. Then his words started to sink in, and she felt her fear vanish in a heartbeat.
“Ugh, not you too. Look, I did what I had to do to pursue my dream. Sure, I had to make some sacrifices, but it was all worth it! Or, it would have been worth it if my parents weren’t such heartless-“
“Monsters?” The creature finished her sentence, snarling a bit.
Amelia remembered who (or what) she was talking to, and the fear shot back into her. “I… er, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way.”
The creature sighed. “You just don’t understand, do you? I’ve been living under your bed since you were just a little girl, and in all these years you never appreciated your parents, even when you later acknowledged that they were right.”
Amelia swallowed nervously. “Look, mister…”
The creature chuckled. “You couldn’t pronounce my name in your tongue.”
“Right… well, I have a lot of work to do if I ever want to be free of this prison cell that was once my bedroom, so I would appreciate it if you would go back to where you came from. Unless you can do something to help me?”
“Like what?”
“Well, my parents are in the other room. You could scare them into letting me off the hook.”
“Not going to happen, ungrateful brat.”
“Then just leave me alone! I have only four days to finish this mountain of work, or else all of my work over the past year will have been for nothing! And I don’t need a judgmental beast to be teaching me life lessons!”
The monster loomed over her. She cowered, but her expression remained defiant. They stayed that way for several minutes. Eventually, the monster spoke.
“Fine.”
“Fine… what?”
“I will help you finish your schoolwork. I will get you to this Homecoming dance you value so much. But in exchange, you will apologize to your parents, appreciate everything they have done for you, and make sure that this does not happen again. Understood?”
Amelia saw a spark of hope at the end of this dreary dark tunnel. She didn’t understand why this creature was so concerned with the relationship between her and her parents, but she wasn’t about to give up her dream just before the finish line. She nodded in agreement.
“Good. Now while we wait for you and your parents to cool off, let’s get started. Even with my help, it will take a great amount of effort on your part to finish everything in time.”
“I can do it. If it’ll get me to my entrance as Homecoming Queen, I can do anything.”
—-
~Stories by Sol
(edit: typos. Thanks to a power outage, I had to write this with my phone and a bluetooth keyboard, so I didn't have a chance to proofread it before submitting.) | 2022-10-16T07:56:21 | 2022-10-16T00:56:28 | 134 | 94 |
[WP] "You fool!" cackled the Dark One, "No man can kill me!" "But I am no man!" bellowed the hero, as he unhinged his jaw. A grotesque sound filled the hall as they hacked up impossibly large balls of cloth. Unfurling, they stand and announce "For we are actually three trench coats in a halfling!" | The Dark One stared in abject horror, unsure how to proceed. To have watched such a young boy practically break his lower jaw apart just for three brown, sentient 𝘫𝘢𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘵𝘴 crawl out from his throat... even the Dark One was scared.
"Well?! Aren't you going to do something," one of the trench coats asked.
"I believe he is in shock, brother," another replied.
"Then we shall kill him where he stands," the third proclaimed.
The third charged towards the Dark One, but before he could reach the evil man, he held up his hand and the three coats froze in place.
"Yeah... I need to take five," the Dark One informed them. "This is just... so, so wrong on so many levels."
"Face us now, you coward," the first coat shouted.
Rather than respond, the Dark One just walked off, ignoring the threats and comments made by three trench coats.
How were they even alive? How did they work? He was supposed to be a master at the magical arts, and yet here stood these monstrosities, and he had no clue as to what made these things. And how did they manage to disguise themselves as a human child?
For the first time in almost three millenia, the Dark One was confused, and truly disturbed. | The Dark Lord’s first reaction was, surprisingly, mirth. He thought the heroes had simply misspoken. Three halflings in a trench coat was an uncommon archetype, but nothing he’s never heard of.
As such, imagine the simultaneous mix of revulsion and fascination that welled from within him, like a snowball so yellow that it passed the invisible, but commonly agreed-on valley of distaste right into the hellish depths of morbid curiosity.
The three trench coats were utterly drenched with sticky fluids, smelling like something fishy that had been left to dry in the sun and then promptly forgotten about. They were black. Or at least, the Dark Lord hoped they were black, and not some colour that has since been dyed improperly.
The halfling that once stood before him bravely was now sprawled on the ground, his jaw in a state that can only be described as too open. The chest heaved and ho, indicating a modicum of life still inside him.
The Dark Lord, who had a gigantic god complex since he was little, then chose to invoke a blasphemous name in his complete shock.
“What in god’s name is this abomination?”
The trench coats stood. Sat. Laid? Somehow, they were upright with nothing to support them. One collar started flapping incessantly.”
“We are trench coats,” a muffled voice came through the middle coat. “Fairly common around these parts.”
“I’m sorry, but I am physically convulsing from the sheer, visceral disgust, like thousands of bugs crawling about in my bloodstream—which, trust me, is a torture so horrendous that I’ve kindly elected to keep it out of my personal torture dungeon,” the Dark Lord gagged. “Talking trench coats. Hacked from a halfling’s poor, undersized throat. And you call yourself common?”
“Hey,” the right coat complained. “Don’t bring race into this. We’ve had a hard time trying to make others take us seriously.”
“Race?” the Dark Lord whispered, bewildered. “You are—”
“You are deliberately misunderstanding the point, Dark Lord!” the middle coat shouted again, to vigorous collar flaps from the other two. “We are no men! And we are here to take you down!”
“Trench coats,” the Dark Lord shook his head. “I don’t see how you can…”
The coats started trudging towards him, the bottom of their floating coats barely swishing the floors. The Dark Lord was prepared to simply laugh, then burn every bit of thread up with the strongest fireballs he could muster.
Which he did. He was a powerful being. It came with being named the Dark Lord. It took a certain amount of prestige and ability to simply being known by a sole title that no one else dared to claim.
The trench coats, unfortunately, could not stand against fire that sprouted from every which where, hotter than the average hellfire pillar. The Dark Lord would know—the devil often tried to obtain this very spell for himself.
But as the coats burned, the Dark Lord had the audacity to breathe in deeply, in preparation for a solid sigh of satisfaction.
The smell had spread. Even the choking ash paled in comparison. What wafted through the air now was something so pungent that it would have killed a lesser man.
In the Dark Lord’s case, he stumbled to grab hold of a nearby pillar. He struggled against the innate desire to breathe deeply, in order to prevent himself from drowning from the inhuman odour that now spread across the room.
That day, the Dark Lord did not die.
But he gained a new nightmare. Something which no hero had ever done before.
And he realized—sometimes, even gods can cry themselves to sleep in a room filled with lavender incense to drown out the smelly memories.
---
r/dexdrafts | 2022-11-05T14:57:52 | 2022-11-05T14:36:58 | 646 | 67 |
[WP] You run an agency of time travelers who are dispatched to break the hearts of famous singers through out their lives and inspire their timeless music. | "I quit." Gary exclaimed when he returned from his mission.
His boss, Stacey was fairly confused as this was her first employee to just up and quit. This was everyone's dream job, going back in time to break someone's heart, just to return to a song from that artist. Some people called it an art of their own.
The cool thing about time travel is that as long as you travel to a time from before your own birth, you generate a random genetic code which results in a different appearance. This was implemented by *Timeless Music Co.* when they first came up with the idea of music making. Luckily they figured out an algorithm to settle the genetic code at a specific combination allowing you to look as appealing or appalling as necessary.
Stacey finally blurted out to Gary before the front door of the building swung shut, "What happened? Did it not go as planned?"
"Yes, it went exactly as planned Stacey. I'm just sick of it, how many times do I need to visit this girl before we can just agree each song she writes about me sucks?!" Said Gary with an increasing volume throughout the statement.
"Listen, I know it's frustrati.."
Gary interrupted, "YOURE DAMN RIGHT ITS FRUSTRATING! WHY DONT YOU GO AND TRY TO HOLD A CONVERSATION WITH TAYLOR SWIFT" | I couldn't believe it was her.
Looking at her in the flesh was...was stunning to say the least. Her jet black hair, twinkling eyes and hourglass figure would make any man look twice. But her voice...her voice. It seemed as if the choirs of heaven had lost a singer, and she now resided in Tara's voice-box. In the future, she was one of the biggest stars of our time. She changed music as humans knew it, and was held up to the same standards ad Beethoven or Mozart.
I remembered the first time I saw her. It was at Reever's bar. I was one of the few who heard her perform for the first time ever. And I knew right there and then that she would be going places. That she would change music as we knew it.
And here she was waiting tables.
"What would you like to order sir?"
She was *right here.* The star herself. I forced myself not to stare, and managed "err...just some frees and hash whites."
A frown creased he perfect face. "You mean fries and hash browns, sir?"
*Stupid, stupid.* "Yes, yes of course, my mistake."
She flashed me one of her stunning smiles that roused entire crowds in the future. "No problem, sir. Be about fifteen minutes."
This was worth it. It was most certainly worth it.
***
Despite the rocky start, we grew close. Just as the Organization had said we would. They knew her tastes and preferences, and I had been a match. It helped that I was a huge fan, so they knew I wouldn't back out at the last moment.
See, Tara had no interest in music when I met her. In our 3 years together I had pushed her towards music, and she seemed to enjoy it, but there needed to be *something.* Something that pushed her over the edge.
I knew it had to be done. I knew I had to make her great, she deserved it. She deserved all the love she would get, all the money, all the fans. And yet I hesitated. Not for my sake, but for hers. Would she recover? Would she move on?
It was a risk I would have to take.
***
"Derek, what the hell was that?" I called from the shower. There had been some sort of noise downstairs. Had he fallen? Did something break?
I shouldn't have been worried, but something seemed...off. I hurriedly wrapped a towel around me. It was my favorite one. Derek had gotten it for me, and it had my name Tara embroided in gold letters on the front. I didn't even touch my hair, I just ran...something was wrong, I knew it.
I found him on the couch.
He seemed at peace, as if he were sleeping. This peace was belied by the trickle of blood coming out of his ear and the small pistol in his hand. Oh god.
Why Derek?
I was crying now. Damn it. Damn it all. The one man I had loved, cared about...and this happens?
***
The police came and went, did their interviews, yadda yadda yadda. I just felt hollow, as if something was broken inside me. But I had to stay strong dammit. What would Derek think if he saw me like this, moping and crying. I had to honor his memory.
And that's exactly why I still went to the music classes. Derek would have wanted me to keep going. I did it for him. Hannah said I had made great progress, that there was new emotion in my voice.
I had my first public performance coming up at Reever's bar this Saturday. | 2016-11-22T09:25:44 | 2016-11-22T05:51:23 | 40 | 13 |
[WP] In your journey through space, you come upon a ship. It sends you a message: "KILL US". | "What the hell?" The captain asked, "Kill us?" His second in command shrugged. The chief engineer was on board at the time. Most people who could be were at the bridge. "Well," The engineer started, "we're not actually going to do it, are we?"
"I don't know." The captain replied. The second-in-command followed up, "Are they suicidal?!" "They could be holding information, and an enemy ship is on their tail!" The engineer yelled.
Soon after, another beep, signaling a message was arriving. "What's it say?" The captain asked, moving to look at it himself anyway.
In big letters on the officer's screen were written, "TRY IT"
"Are they taunting us?" The captain asked. "Those sons-of-bitches! They want a fight!" The engineer exclaimed. "Is this some kind of test?" The second-in-command inquired to no one in particular.
*Beep*
"What in..." The captain started, the communications officer looking puzzled. The engineer and second-in-command both moved closer.
"FIGHT ME 1V1 IRL"
| Space was vast and unforgiving. This, I knew, from my isolated travels around the galaxy. Entropy does not discriminate. Everything, it seems, except for me.
I had no need of protection or covering, unlike some of the primitive lifeforms around here.My tentacles pulsed a faint blue as I swam alongside the stars.
I was one of my kind, I think. Vague memories constitute this: the warmth of a nebula, thick and hazy, and the millennia of exploration for a kindred spirit. Someone like me. After some time, I had reconfigured my form to catch radiation. A way to seek life, and determine their likeness to my own.
Millions of electromagnetic signals reached my ears. I tuned most of it out as garbage, white noise from the surrounding stars, but honed onto something odd. It was faint, but clearly intelligible.
*Kill us.*I waved my tentacles, confused. Why would sentient life choose death? I wasn’t a stranger to the concept; from my travels I had watched many an alien keel over and lay still. Not moving, not thinking, just… Extinguished. Like a black dwarf. On some days, I felt slightly jealous for the peace it seemed to grant them. And their thoughts! Oh, their fascinating minds. From my place in the stars, I experienced every sort of emotion possible, even those I was not equipped to handle. Happiness, like the expansion of a galaxy, bright and life-giving. Sorrow, that reminded me of the loneliness of space. They were so numerous and so vivid.
I swooped in, feeling the signal strengthen. Stars and planets blurred, became streaks of light as I tracked the signal towards its source. I let myself fade into the background, not truly invisible but nearly so, and watched.
The ship was of crude construction and make, compared to the Was’ki’one of the Alpha Centauri. It was covered in a red, lichen-like growth. I was now close enough to touch the metal of the ship. I scraped off a piece of the red lichen. It attempted to burrow into my flesh. I let out a burst of energy. It slackened, then disintegrated.
Focusing one of my many eyes on the portholes, I peered inside.
*Earthlings,* I thought. And then, a moment of brief confusion. *Do they always have black spores on their faces?* I let my consciousness diffuse the interior of the ship. There was nothing but silence. Death. I paused a moment, and clumsily attempted one of the rites I had seen on a distant planet. A series of gestures, and some spoken words I sent telepathically throughout the area.
I took a closer look. There was something odd about those spores. They buzzed with a faint intelligence. The spores were unlike any life form I had chanced upon before- a colony of minds, weak individually, but growing in power. I could sense hunger. Not of a physical kind, but great desire.
*Spread. Grow. Devour,* they called. Their intentions were simple, but horrifying. They only desired expansion.
Sorrow filled my mind. I sent a telepathic apology, then closed my tentacles around the hull of the ship. A million minds cried out in terror.
I began the slow and arduous process of digestion.
&nbsp;
I'd love some critique!
| 2017-06-04T08:26:25 | 2017-06-04T08:07:02 | 235 | 131 |
[WP] Since you were a child you have had the power to turn off your brain and command your body to do one simple task and wake up when its done (ex. do my work). one day you tell your body to clean your room but when you wake up you're in a apocalyptic wasteland. | Since I was a kid, I'd had a "thing". No one else had it, that I knew of. Was my little secret.
Started small, didn't even realize it was a thing at first. Momma would tell me to take a bath, or clean the garage, and I'd tell myself the same thing, just to find that it was done in the blink of an eye, or so I thought.
Was a handy little thing to get homework done, or chores.
I always wondered what it looked like to others when I was doing my thing, so I once set up a video camera in the living room... turns out im apparently still awake enough to answer questions, and interact with folks, and I *do* remember conversations with others that occur in thing time, but only if the other person reminds me. And I tended to remember the lessons I learned from my textbooks, but only if I was taking a test, or was prompted somehow. Time passed like normal. If cleaning the gutters would take two hours, then two hours got taken, but I didn't have to think about, i didn't get bored.. it just happened.
It worked well enough to get me into a pretty good school.
And I think that's where things went... wonky.
Two weeks into my freshman year of college, I was taking an intro to Latin course. I'd just taken some thing time to study my Latin vocab and had eaten dinner after.
When I got back to my dorm, I told myself, "Clean my room."
And then I woke up in Hell. Literally. | Within the vast expanse of the universe, traveling at speeds the mind can’t even begin to comprehend and filled with possibilities only the world of dreams can imagine, there are only two constants. The known and the unknown.
The people of earth are ignorant to the unknown, most turning their head and refusing to believe in the impossible.
But not me. I thought I was different, because I was born with the ability to turn off my brain and command my body to work for me while unconscious.
I thought I was the unknown piece of the puzzle, the only living thing to be born with a gift not even a scientist could dream up. I thought I was that one thing that we always knew was there, hidden in the haystack but never able to find.
But I was wrong.
My brain began the process of switching back to consciousness and allowing my senses to accept outside influence. The moment my skin registered the unusually high temperature and my nose caught the scent of dirt and rot floating through the air, I knew something was wrong.
I had commanded my body to clean before I slipped into unconsciousness and never once had my body failed me.
I peeled my eyelids open, only to catch sight of my bedroom completely dilapidated. The roof was partially caved in, my expensive mahogany dresser was tipped over on its side with all the drawers empty and broken. Dirt and grim covered every inch of the floor, walls and furniture. And the bed my body was on reeked of something rotten.
I sat up quickly and gasped, allowing a million tiny particles of dust to swim into my mouth and latch onto the back of my throat. A coughing fit erupted in my chest as I threw my body off the bed and toward the door.
I yanked the termite eaten wooden door open and ran into the living room, unease swirling through my insides. The rest of the house matched the state of my bedroom, destroyed and filthy, crawling with bugs I knew were there but weren’t showing themselves.
I clutched my chest and felt the very real fear eating away at my brain in massive chunks. *This isn’t real. Somethings wrong. This can’t be real!*
**“System malfunction.”**
A mono tone voice boomed through the house from all directions. I jumped a foot in the air and spun around, my eyes darting to every corner of the ruins that used to be my home.
**“System-”** It began again, but was cut off along with the light of the sun. Everything plunged into darkness, leaving me panicking in the center of my post apocalyptic living room.
**“System rebooting.”**
A bright red light switched on above my head, just in time for me to witness the peeling wallpaper of the living room walls disappear as if it were made out of pixels. The stained couch and shattered glass coffee table followed suite, fading away before my eyes.
As the last of the house disintegrated, another circular red light turned on in front of me. I swallowed the bile rising in my throat and ran for it, over the now black empty floor where my house used to sit.
The red light illuminated through a small rectangular window of a door. I pushed it open with sweaty palms and frantically turned in circles to look down both ends of a pristine white tile hallway, before my eye caught on the plaque next to the door.
My heart beat pulsed louder than I’d ever heard it before in my ear drums and sweat trickled down my spine as I read the soul shredding words plastered on the wall.
**“Specimen #1145: Human**
**Intelligence: Low**
**Status: Unstable**
**Relocation: 48 Hours”**
&nbsp;
**Hai! If you liked this story and would like to read more of my stuffs they can be found at r/AliesStories! Thanks for reading :3** | 2019-11-18T22:19:26 | 2019-11-18T19:50:47 | 226 | 73 |
[WP] in a dying universe, the most precious element is time - without it, everything freezes. While scouting for time crystals you discover a derelict ship and frozen pilot. You decide to give them a few minutes of your time. | *There it is.*
The death of a large star caught in stasis near its final moments.
I accelerated, propelling myself through the explosion of chromatic hues, the tempestuous storm of nebula and dust frozen in mid-flight. I sweep my hands in front of me like a swimmer, displacing the violet and azure clouds.
It was a silly thing to do. There was simply far too much dust, but it gave me a good chuckle as I continued farther, deeper into the eye of the supernova. I was virtually blind going in, but that didn't matter. The HUD of my visor provided me the necessary directions.
And so, I swam with my only companion. The sound of the dying universe, a deafening silence.
I swam for what felt like forever. But everything felt like forever. Because there was no time. No change. Every moment, unless perceived by me, was an eternity here.
The indicator on my HUD began to flash frantically.
*Almost there.*
Suddenly, I emerge from the cloud of dust into darkness, the feeling of dust brushing softly against my suit gone. There was no light in front of me, only absolute darkness. I was starring at the birth of a black hole, frozen in timeless stasis. It had run out of time.
I checked my HUD.
So straight forward it is. I accelerated forward towards the edge of the black hole.
*Ha. Found it.*
A few paces away, an iridescent crystal small enough to fit in the palm of my hand. Trapped inside it was *Time.*
How much Time exactly? I wasn't sure, but there was one thing I was sure of. It had enough energy to fuel the *next* moments of the supernova I was inside of.
My heart raced, as I wrapped my hands gently around the shimmering crystal. Prismatic lights spilled though the gaps between my hands as I guided the crystal into a capsule.
I breathed deeply, relieved. I had just secured my future.
Then I noticed it. On my HUD, there was a flashing orange light, with tiny text underneath it. It read, '*Unknown Object*'.
*Huh...* It could have been anything, an asteroid that has run astray, a heavy cluster of dark particles, I couldn't have guessed. But it was definitely not a Time Crystal.
I turned around, and saw the trail of scattered dust that I had left behind.
I accelerated towards the 'Unknown Object'.
I didn't know why I did it. I guessed curiosity had prevailed.
Before long, I reached the 'Unknown Object'.
It was a ship. Ancient. It looked like the ones I saw in the Archives. It was bulky, large and inefficient.
As I drew closer, I saw him a short distance away from his ship. The pilot of the ship was frozen in mid-flight with his arms outstretched in front of him, reaching for something.
I approached him, then checked his suit. I reached into a compartment on my suit, and extracted a capsule, then slotted it in to his suit.
He breathed heavily, "W-what?!" He looked around him bewilderingly, then set his eyes on me. "H-how? I thought that I had run out of Time!"
"You did," I answered him through the intercom that I had set up between us.
He took a moment before, widening his eyes in comprehension. "You gave me your time?!"
"Yep."
The man paused for a moment. "Why?"
I laughed. "Guess, I shouldn't have?"
"No, I'm very grateful for what you did but... I probably wouldn't have done the same for you."
"Hm. At least you're honest. What's your name? Where did you come from?"
"I'm Kai," he reached out for a handshake.
I shook his hand. "Iris," I said.
"I'm from Ark-17 the seventeenth planetary ship of earth, Echo squad, Unit E-78. You?"
My eyes went wide.
"W-what? You know Ark-17?"
"I know *of* it," I said.
"Do you know what happened-"
"Yea. They're frozen, out of time. All of the Arks from Earth actually."
Kai trembled, tears streaming from his eyes. "No... It can't be. H-how do you know?"
"Because that was countless thousands years ago, Kai. Ancient history. I learned it in class on Xia. The last remaining planetary ship of *humanity.*"
"Xia? How many people inhabit Xia?" Kai asked.
I turned and peered through the explosion of nebula and dust. "Just me... for now."
Kai was silent.
Then he finally asked. "How much time did you give me Iris?"
"Enough," I said simply.
He frowned, then began tapping inputs on a display on his wrist.
"What the fuck? Is this thing broken?"
Kai began tapping more inputs furiously.
"Its not broken Kai. The number is right."
Kai stopped breathing. He looked up at me. "This... amount of Time... Its enough to fuel all of the Arks of earth combined!"
My eyebrows rose in astonishment. "Really? I hadn't expected it to be *that* much. I guess you should get going then Kai. You've got a lot of people to save."
"Hold on. What about you Iris? How could you be fine with giving me this much?
"It's fine. It was yours anyway. You ran out of time before you could reach it," I pointed behind me with my thumb.
Realization dawned on his face.
"And you? How much Time do you have left?" he asked.
"Enough."
Kai frowned, not satisfied from my answer. "Iris tell me the truth."
I checked my HUD. "One-hundred and three years."
"Oh."
"Alright Kai, I have to return to my ship now. I wish you luck on your journey."
Kai was silent as he watched me intently.
I turned away and started accelerating towards the trail of displaced nebula and dust.
I checked my HUD. I had less than a minute of Time left.
*Well shit. I guess this is it.*
The last thing I heard was Kai's voice through the intercom.
"**I'll come back for you Iris**!"
-------
/r/em_pathy
| Nothing but Time
---
"It gets lonely piloting out here in this great expanse of nothing-at-all, but I then I guess you already know and to be honest I imagine it's pretty lonely everywhere, really. The universe is tired, cold, finished. It gave up on all this a long time ago, and now there's nothing left but Time.
"Time good for nothing else but just waiting for whatever happens next.
"You just gotta hope that it's worth waiting for; it's not like there is anything to hope for.
"The stars have gone out, and anything else that didn't disappear with them has all gone cold and still now. It's all just dust now, but even that has stopped spinning.
"The universe is dying-
"No, the universe is dead.
"And people like me, people like us, we're just the unfortunate few that it forgot to finish off."
The pilot stands stretching out his arms and creaking his neck, the thick leather of his spacesuit holding tight to his skin, the rebreather on his face making him look almost alien, but he was human, more human than I was. I can feel the warmth radiating from him as he wandered around the cramped cabin, the heat of a living body with warm blood flowing its veins.
He was human, and he was quite possibly the only one of us.
The rest of us are like me, just ghosts trapped in husks of what we used to be, trapped without the energy to even die, just frozen in time, just frozen in space, just frozen…
"But still we keep on," The pilot continued with a slight smirk, "Just keep on keeping on, until we can keep on no longer."
"Because that was the way, that always our way." He looks sad then for a moment, staring wistfully at something that was no longer. "That was the Human Way."
"That was the spirit," He said with a smile that was enough to almost seem real.
For a long moment, he just stares at me, his expression empty of anything but the pain that was so clear in his eyes.
"I'm sorry," He whispered, so quiet that I barely heard. "I'm sorry I can't help you, but it's not like any of this can be."
He stands, placing a warm hand on my cheek enough to bring some feeling back, breaking some the ice to allow some sensation no matter how insignificant back to me.
"I need to be keeping on," He whispers, the warmth of him suddenly leaving.
"There is no Time," He muttered, bitter at his own joke. "No Time for any of this anymore."
He sighed, and he crouched before me, tears starting to form in his eyes. "No Time for anything."
He flinches, as if only now becoming suddenly aware of his own pain, and forces a smile that is obviously just a lie.
"But I have Time, even if it's not going to last forever." He wipes his eyes with the cuffs of his suit.
"It'll be enough," He muttered to himself, trying so hard to be convinced.
"I'll have enough Time at least."
"*Time Enough for Waiting.*" He smiled, a true smile that time. "because there has got to be something worth waiting for."
The pilot stood up and left, and I could already feel it, the cold freeze slowly oncoming, feel my time running out all over again. I watched the monitors as he clambered back into his ship, and wished him luck in whatever he did, ice already forming across my cheeks, feeling my own breath cold inside my mouth.
He'd been right, I realised as I watched him slowly drift away into the void, it definitely lonely out there.
Alone with nothing but Time.
---
Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed it, and if you have any feedback, advice, thoughts, or anything else (the good and the bad), please let me know.
For more of my writings, please see r/[DylanConnors](https://reddit.com/r/dylanconnors)
Cheers, Dylan | 2018-03-30T18:34:54 | 2018-03-30T16:01:44 | 340 | 34 |
[WP] You've just been kidnapped by a supervillain. She's not really evil; she's just really socially awkward and had no idea how to approach you otherwise. She even made you dinner! | "Where am I?" Amelia slurred, "What... what happened?" she grimaced, "Why does my head hurt?"
"Sorry, side effects of the knockout agent. You'll be fine in a few minutes." A distant voice called out.
"Wait, what?" Amelia tried to move but felt paralyzed. She looked down and though her vision was still blurry, she saw rope. Panic set in.
"Hey hey, relax, I'm not gonna hurt you." the voice was approaching and a blurry silhouette was getting closer, "Here, let me clear your eyes." Amelia flinched as tissues gently caressed her eyes. Able to see clearly, she saw bright blue eyes behind a mask reminiscent of black butterfly wings.
"Who are you? Where am I?" Amelia was still struggling in vain against the rope. She looked around and, expecting the blank concrete walls and pipes of some basement, was pleasantly surprised to see a cozy looking loft apartment. There was a bottle of wine with two glasses waiting by a couch and coffee table in front of a crackling fireplace.
"You don't recognize me from all the news stories?" she almost seemed offended, "I'm Black Butterfly. Supervillain, thief, et cetera."
"What do you want with me?" Amelia wasn't a superhero and, as far as she had known, wasn't affiliated with any. Black Butterfly was never on the news for any kidnappings or murders either, so this was new for her as well.
"Ah, well, um." Black Butterfly sat down on the arm of a comfortable looking recliner, "You see, uh."
"Take your time, I'm not going anywhere."
Black Butterfly took a deep breath, as if to calm herself down, "I thought you were really really pretty and uh, wanted to ask you out to dinner. I wasn't too sure how to do that because, well, super villain." she let out a small chuckle, "I made salmon for us! And cake! The salmon should be done in a few minutes, it's still in the oven. Veggies are ready, though."
"Wait, what? D-dinner?" Amelia knew she was blushing but she would never admit it, "Why did you kidnap me, then?"
"Well, I mean, how else would I ask you? Just walk up and say 'Hey I'm a super villain wanna go on a date?'. Come on dude, that wouldn't work."
Amelia deliberated for a moment before speaking, "Fair enough, I guess." she looked back down, "How am I supposed to eat if I'm tied up?"
"Oh right, sorry, I meant to untie you when you calmed down but uh, you were surprisingly calm right away." Black Butterfly hopped up and began undoing her knots.
"I have to admit the promise of a nice dinner makes me want to cooperate, but kidnapping is a huge red flag." Amelia stood up and stretched. While the wooden chair wasn't uncomfortable, the rope was.
"So is being a super villain." Black Butterfly admitted, "But! But. I promise I will never do anything like this again. I just. Really had no idea how to like, start a conversation. I'm sorry."
"It's uh, it's alright. Just, yeah, please don't do it again."
"I won't, I promise."
"Thank you."
"Sam." Black Butterfly held out her hand, "It's a name. My name."
"I'm Amelia." she took it. Sam's hand was warm and a little clammy. | She stood there, patiently waiting, watching to see what I did next. She had some very nice dishes laid out with steak, baked potato, assorted vegetables and some pears and mangoes. She looked kinda nervous. The food smelled wonderful. I cut up some steak and took a bite, It was some of the *best* food I had ever tasted. I looked up at her and she looked like she was expecting me to say I didn't like it and leave. "The food's b-bad isn't it." She said looking, disappointed, as if she'd heard it a lot. "No it's really good, I like it." I quickly replied. She looked up in disbelief, and I could see tears forming in her eyes. She had obviously never heard someone be this nice to her.
A few weeks later me and Sylvie were walking through the park. The birds chirping around us, the sun shining, children running around, flowers blooming. It turns out we had a lot in common, she helped me get a job and I helped her make some new friends. got to the middle of the park when I got down on one knee... | 2021-10-21T13:00:29 | 2021-10-21T12:15:59 | 124 | 31 |
[WP] You have weird super power. If you successfully talk someone into doing something, they will succeed, regardless of if the action in question is actually possible. On the other hand, your abilities to actually persuade people are unaltered. | “You’re a cheat, a fraud!” he shouted, having ducked under my line of security holding off the adoring crowds. He shoved me rudely backwards, and I felt him spit in my face.
The hall went silent, and a thousand camera flashes lit up as my fans started snapping away. Far more common in the early days, not so much now, it had been some time since the last heckler attempted to disrupt my services.
“What’s your name?” I asked, after security had tackled him to the ground, holding him in an arm lock. He stared back defiantly, murder in his eyes.
“I hate people like you,” he seethed, “you prey on the gullible, exploit their dreams, crush their hopes! I hope you burn in hell!”
In the past, I would have begged for him to give me a chance, let me prove myself. I would have trotted out recordings of the precious few times I had successfully applied my powers, shown him that I really could convince people to do the extraordinary, once I managed to persuade them to even try. I would have persisted until my throat was raw, my knees were bruised.
Now, it was much easier. I just had to let him see for himself.
“Who amongst you is afflicted? Who can I help today?” I said, turning to address the crowds. My hands were raised, my voice boomed across the hall.
A hundred, two hundred hands shot up in the air, as applause rang out. The first in line, a young girl in a wheelchair, rolled up to me. I wasn’t a doctor, but I didn’t need to be one to infer from her withered, twisted legs what she was seeking today.
“What’s your name?”
“I’m Grace Natterly, please, please heal me!”
I held her hands, closed my eyes. I felt the rest of the hall slip into a similar reverential mood, and faint murmurings filled the air. Prayer wasn’t exactly necessary, but I let them believe what they wanted. The only disturbance in that whirlpool of peace, was the disbeliever who still struggled on the carpet.
“By the power vested in me, Grace Natterly, I compel you to heal yourself! Stand up! Stand up! Stand up now!”
And she did.
She struggled at first, unused to the motions, then I felt the familiar tingle as my powers took over. No one else could see, but I saw the dancing motes of light swirl in the air, cling to her legs like fireflies. I heard the familiar crick of bones straightening, growing, and I saw the flesh fatten, bulk up with muscle. The deformities melted away, leaving only a completely unremarkable set of legs.
“I… I am healed…” she said, finally, quietly. She was flexing her toes, still swimming in that short flood of euphoria, tears welling up in the corners of her eyes.
The cheers erupted. Her family rushed up to her in celebration, and the others in line pressed forward, hungry, impatient, hopeful.
I turned to my detractor, who had fallen silent. The fight had sapped out of him, and a curious blankness covered his face. I waved away the security holding him down, then leaned in close.
“That’s… that’s impossible,” he said, shaking his head slowly, eyes wide.
“All you need, is a little bit of faith,” I said, smiling as I held out my hand.
---
/r/rarelyfunny | "Ffffffeck..." slurred Brian as he negotiated the revolving door outside Manhattan's World Bar. Convincing Will to head to the east side to sample the world's most expensive cocktail hadn't been easy, but Brian found that once he got an assent from Will, it had quickly snowballed into maxxing out Will's corporate card ordering the damned things.
And snowball it did. As Brian stumbled out of the revolving door, he waltzed right into one of Manhattan's most famous real estate developers.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" the developer asked, wiping a mixture of expensive liquor and gold leaf from his startlingly ill-fitting tie. Brian hated it when people who should know better wore their ties hanging over their belt buckle.
Brian swore again, this time catching himself and producing a handkerchief that he tried, unsuccessfully, to use to clean up the man he had just run into.
"Shorry about that, man..." Brian intimated. The man scoffed.
"Heyyyy, you know...I've alwaysh thought you were an ashhole, but you should run for Prrrreshident, Mishter Trump..." | 2017-06-21T13:38:19 | 2017-06-21T13:15:32 | 69 | 44 |
[WP] Human blood turns darker with every evil deed and you've just murdered your wife. You never admitted to doing it, but you were the only suspect in the case. Imagine everyone's surprise when they found out that your blood is still milky white. | Gina watched the two men sitting adjacent to each other on plush arm chairs, both cheated slightly toward the bank of cameras at the edge of the stage. From her position in the control room, she took careful note of the man of the hour. If the interviewee was unnerved by the situation, he managed to hide it masterfully, as he must of done during his very public trial. Now that it was time to film, she was having doubts that this interview would yield anything interesting at all. His demand that the interview be carried live, with no delay, was a little strange, but Gina thought getting this scoop would be worth it. Within 30 seconds of the cameras rolling, however, all of her fears of a flop were erased, instead replaced by a slate of new, unspeakable fears, realizing that the foundation of their peaceful society would be shaken to their core. A blanket of silence covered the studio, and all attention turned to the men on stage.
"This is John Simmons, sitting down for an exclusive interview with David Sheppard after his recent acquittal in the high profile murder of his late wife, Theresa. David, welcome, and thank you for joining us."
"Glad to be here John."
"Well, I suppose we should just get straight to it; the case of your wife's murder has baffled both experts and true crime fans across the country and throughout the world. Given that you appear to be the only person who would have been capable of committing the act, yet your blood clearly shows no signs of guilt, is there any way that you can explain your wife's demise?"
"Oh, that's easy. I killed her."
The collected crew in the control room all gasped, and John recoiled so abruptly he nearly fell out of his chair. David's face never shifted from his easy smile.
"I... I don't understand. How is that possible? You were just acquitted! The entire country has seen your blood! How could you have committed such an act?"
"Are you sure you want to know? You'll never be able to go back to believing in Black and White and shade of Gray."
"I... no we... we as a public need to understand how this was possible. Was it some kind of trick? Did you use false blood?"
David laughed in response. "No, if I had used any fake evidence, that would have invalidated my acquittal, and I never would have risked that. No, it's actually much simpler than that. I killed my wife, but I wasn't guilty."
"What does that even mean? How could you have done that without being guilty? Was it self-defense?"
"John, what is the nature of evil, and how does that effect the blood?"
"Well, evil is... well it's evil. And no one has ever been able to identify the cause."
"Well, that's not entirely true. If you open up a dictionary, you'll find that evil is defined as something morally wrong. That's a very subjective definition, but the phenomena is very subjective as well. For example, Jews and Muslims think eating pork is sinful, and if they knowingly eat pork, it does change the color a bit, but the same isn't true of Christians or atheists. It can't be tied to the power of an actual god, because it still happens to atheists, so I guessed it was based on the collective consciousness of any group structured around morality, so if the majority of Christians believed an act was sinful, a self-identified Christian's blood would darken if they committed that act. All I had to do was find a moral framework that allowed me to kill my wife without offending the majority of that framework's followers."
"Are you telling me that you went out and chose a new religion in order to kill your wife."
"No John, of course not. I made a new religion so I could kill my wife." David laughed again at John's bug-eyed expression. "Yea, I guess it does sound kind of crazy."
"Of course it sounds crazy! How could that possibly be real?"
"What can I say? God is great!"
"So, what, you just made up your own religion, where God says it's ok to kill your wife?"
&#x200B;
"Well, not exactly. There was a lot of trial and error, making sure that I didn't mess anything up. Trying to hold onto a picture of the Christian God accepting what I was doing while also doing stuff that is outside of their teachings was tough, but I got around that by just believing that I am a god, and worshiping myself. Now, I act however I want, as it is always God's will, and thus I will always be innocent in all things. It was really hard getting over the first hump, you know, actually believing that I am really a God, but once that was done, the rest was easy." David turned in his chair, training his easy smile directly on the camera. "Oh, and for those of you who have a hard time getting over that first step, you can worship me, and my Will is highly adaptable... for the right monetary compensation."
Aghast, Gina cut the feed, and the millions of people around the country who had been watching the interview sitting in stunned silence were confronted with a bland "Technical difficulties" screen, totally discordant with the gravity of what they had just heard. Within minutes, the whole interview was splashed across every website imaginable. The entire justice system, built on the inherent guilt of a person's blood, shattered in less than 5 minutes. | The blood lab door opens. The District Attorney and Detective step out into the hall and close the door.
Detective: Sir, I don't think we can prosecute this.
DA: He did it!
Detective: I know sir, I -
DA: There is no reasonable doubt anywhere. This is an ironclad case.
Detective: Sir! I understand.
They look at each other for a second. The DA turns away, placing his hands on his hips. The DA puts his hand to his forehead and begins massaging his temples.
Detective: You know we have a guy on payroll here whose job is to kill people. You know what color his blood is?
DA: (Still covering his face) You mean the county executioner?
Detective: Yes, sir.
DA: (Turns to face Detective) Are you about to tell me he's such a nice guy that his blood is also white?
Detective: Ah, no, sir, it's a light gray, and he’s not a nice man. He tampers with the drugs.
DA: what do you mean?
Detective: He tampers with the execution drugs. The exocutionee is rendered immobile, but feels excruciating pain as they die. We almost have enough evidence to take him in for it.
DA: Why wasn't I told?
Detective: We weren't sure yet. But now we are. I'll send you a report. What's relevant to this case is that the exocutioner's blood is a light gray. A man who enjoys looking in another man's eyes as his victim dies in soul-crushing pain. Light gray. Moral blood is a new thing, and we haven't worked out all the rules yet, but if our psychopath executioner has blood the same color as my aunt, who faked a disability to get handicap plates, maybe this is more complex than we know. Maybe a bad person is more good for killing a worse person. In any case, white blood alone is enough for reasonable doubt. If it's not, they could easily argue that she needed to be killed for the moral good of the universe.
The DA is distressed by the thought. He looks about the room with stress obvious in every facial crease.
Detective: We could call it self defense. Sir.
DA: (Spins to face the Detective) You're talking about letting a killer walk.
Detective: Yes, sir, a killer who is verifiably morally just.
The DA turns away again.
DA: He broke the law. (Faces Detective) And what you are suggesting also breaks the law.
Detective: Yes... But now there's a higher law. Whatever that higher law is, according to that this man is clean. I'm not much of a believer, but I think I might whiten my blood by backing him up.
They stare at each other again. The Detective smiles warmly.
Detective: Perhaps as time goes on, the law will come to align with universal morality.
DA: (Still stressed) Alright, but I need to review the case to figure out how to back up our self-defense argument. For now I need you to hold him.
Detective: Yes, sir. We'll handle that. Thank you. | 2020-02-09T14:08:46 | 2020-02-09T13:06:43 | 42 | 26 |
[WP] You know the secret identity of every hero and villain, How? They show you, as your a shapeshifter employed to impersonate them so both identities can be seen at the same place, same time. However none know your true identity. | “I won’t agree to that job.”
I stared across the booth at Dirk, who hissed at me angrily in response, the flicking of his tongue practically a dead giveaway of his alter ego, The Serpant. It lashes out a mere four inches in front of me. When I started out, his demeanor would have shaken me, but now, more sure of my principles and my leverage, I held firm.
“What is so wrong with my plan?” He snarled across the table.
“Too high of a potential casualty count,” I responded.
“But who cares about the casualty count!” He wailed, earning glance from other patrons in the dark bar. He quickly hunkered to make himself small, and whispered into the table, “The casualties are worth the price.”
“Not to me they aren’t,” I replied, and as he glanced up at me, I saw his pupils turn from slits to black. I gazed into them, a poker face on the outside, but always slightly unnerved by those eyes.
“I agree with the principle,” I assured him, “but unless you can find another way, I can’t help you. You would have had to come up with a slightly different plan anyway, as I am booked on Wednesday. If destroying a hospital wing means so much to you, you can wait a week and come up with something better.”
He slumped into the booth cushions, seething at me but saying nothing. I knew he would not push back. If he went ahead with it anyway, especially if he lied to me about a different plan to throw me off, I would blacklist him. Once he solicited my services, his plans were almost more in my control than his.
“Fine,” he finally muttered, without making eye contact.
“Great, I’ll meet you here next week to discuss then.” As I stood up, I threw a few bills on the table for my drinks before striding out of the bar.
I knew Dirk would not follow. He, like many, had tried the first few times we met, but after I raised prices in retaliation, he stopped. Still, I had to be cautious when I slipped to another form.
When I had made it a few blocks, I changed to a young gangly man at the top of the steps of the subway station. Once on the train, I switched to an older man while walking between cars. Finally, just around the block from my next meeting, I shifted to one of my most common forms, a solid woman, in her late fifties, with an intimidating sharp face, softened slightly by waves of hair that fell to her shoulders.
A chime went off as I opened the door to a small cafe. The owner waved as I came in and poured a cup of coffee in front of me as I sat down.
“Thank you Lisa,” I smiled up at her, and she smiled back with a nice “of course, dear” before padding back behind the counter.
As I waited for my colleague to arrive, I drank my coffee and thought about Dirk’s proposal. He wanted to destroy the hospital, to cause people to be less willing to put themselves in his way as he sowed other terror throughout the city. I had talked him down to just a wing, but we had not yet decided on which one, and how.
In better times, I would not partake in this plan at all, but more recently the council had been vetoing my propositions for budget allocation, claiming that the hospital was operating fine, even though it was severely under-resourced and hemorrhaging good doctors due to low salaries. If it was to be partially destroyed, there was no way I would be denied money to fix it back up, allowing for improvements. Desperate times, as they say.
As I took a sip of coffee, my appointment walked through the door.
“Mayor Blayson,” He greeted me with a nod.
“Councilman Jones,” I smiled across the table. “Let’s talk about your position on the health services budget.” | It was a lucky break, I guess. I'd always used my ability for pettier things like shifting into some fast food place's manager to get a free meal, getting by under the radar. The world had enough heroes and villains and I wanted no part in the charades. Then the headlines broke out: Someone had caught Batman leaving Wayne Manor on camera. I saw the opportunity, something that'd set me for life.
&#x200B;
That night I shifted into one of the waiters and snuck into the charity gala that Bruce was hosting. The little note was handed to him barely poking out from under the plate; he looked at me, panicked, so unBatmanlike I doubted the rumors were true for a minute. I guess he was desperate enough to show up to the meeting place, clad in the black suit and shifty as hell.
&#x200B;
"You're not the waiter" he stated lamely. The guy wasn't half as intimidating as I expected. Maybe it was the circumstances.
&#x200B;
"Well yes, but no. I can be whoever I need to be," I smiled slyly, feeling comfortable in my newly borrowed body, "and whoever *you* need me to be."
&#x200B;
Turns out impersonating Bruce Wayne was easier than expected and everyone was happy afterwards. The cover story turned my one time appointment into a reoccurring gig. It was a very lucrative job. Soon, Batman had recommended me to some of his buddies and word got around. All you'll ever hear about me, though, are mere whispers. | 2020-10-19T08:55:56 | 2020-10-19T08:16:40 | 375 | 55 |
[WP] You are the officer in command on a Navy Nuclear submarine. You dive to the depths of the ocean and don’t have any connection to the outside world, when you surface two weeks later nobody is responding and you can tell something went terribly wrong. | Commander Norlum drummed his fingers on the table as he waited for the senior officers to file into his cabin. Gone was the sleepy haze which had permeated the submarine for days – there was an active buzz in the air now, an urgent murmuring of men rushing to fulfil their orders, of men throwing themselves into their tasks…
… of men drowning in a rising pool of panic.
The Executive Officer, XO Mason, just one rank down from Commander Norlum, engaged the bolt to the heavy steel door. It was then and only then, away from sensitive ears, that Commander Norlum spoke.
“Dr Bradshaw. I command you to reveal your mission onboard my vessel, *now*.”
“Commander, you know I cannot. This is way above your pay grade, and nothing you do-”
Commander Norlum gave the signal, and XO Mason drew his service pistol. The other officers, men who had spent their years living by the strict military code of the Navy, would ordinarily have leapt to protest. Using threatening force? On a civilian? And against express orders from on top?
They would have done so, but that was before the events of that morning.
“Dr Bradshaw, I am a reasonable man. I invite you, again, to give me the information I seek. I firmly believe we are in time to… fix… whatever damn mess you have gotten us into. Or, I will turn you over to the crew.”
“Turn me over?”
“Yes. And I will tell them that you are the person *solely* responsible for the *goddamn world disappearing*. You saw their faces when their instruments failed them. You heard them cry when not a single one of them could lock onto a single satellite in the sky. They think the worst has happened, and I am inclined to agree.”
Dr Bradshaw’s composure broke, and his shoulders hunched as he collapsed against the wall. “No… it has nothing to do with… there must have been war. Nuclear war, neutron war, whatever it is. The world must have destroyed itself while we were submerged! This… this has nothing to do with… me… or my work…”
It was XO Mason’s turn to speak. “I disagree, Dr Bradshaw. Of the few instruments which still work, we do not detect any nuclear fallout in the atmosphere at all. Just radio silence, everywhere. That is not the warfare we know. Something else has happened.”
“Let me put it this way,” said Commander Norlum. “You did not hole yourself up in your bunker these past two weeks for nothing. You did not draw on almost goddamn half of this ship’s power output for nothing. Speak! If you have nothing to hide!”
Dr Bradshaw was silent for a moment, and just as Commander Norlum thought to press him again, he removed a tiny computer from his pockets, then set it upon the table. Dr Bradshaw entered his credentials, then waited for the screen to load.
It flashed red, over and over again.
“It actually… deployed…”
“What deployed?” asked Commander Norlum.
“… but it was just… theoretical… it’s not supposed to work… it’s never, actually… worked…”
XO Mason helped Dr Bradshaw to a chair, and pushed a carafe of whiskey towards him. Dr Bradshaw downed two full glasses before he continued.
“There was this idea, you see. We could be prepared all the time, be vigilant, but there was the fear that it would always be too slow. If we waited until we were sure that the enemy has launched their nuclear missiles, then would we still be in time to retaliate? And if ever we moved too soon, jumped the gun… would the world understand and forgive?”
“Yes, yes, the classic problem we’ve been facing for years,” said Commander Norlum. “And that’s why we’re out here in goddamn nowhere, so that we can be the first to respond.”
“Not fast enough, not fast enough,” Dr Bradshaw said, shaking his head. “We needed two things – we needed to be sure that the enemy launched first, but then we also needed to strike before they did. That was the goal. That was the ideal. That… that was my project…”
XO Mason filled the void. “That’s… impossible. That’s a paradox.”
“Not if you had what we had,” said Dr Bradshaw. “What if I told you that we had the technology to always ensure we could make the pre-emptive strike, *after* we knew the other side had attacked?”
“You mean… like…” Commander Norlum could not bring himself to complete his sentence. Already he felt foolish for even thinking it.
“It’s very simple when you think about it,” said Dr Bradshaw. “We called it the Pre-emptor. It was a program, leeching off the immense energies we have here. It would detect a threat, then move us back, just a bit, through the slipstream of time, to when we had the best possible chance of making a successful and decisive strike. That’s all, I swear.”
“How… far back would it move us?”
“Just a bit, of course! Who knows what would happen if we went back too far?”
“So indulge me, Dr Bradshaw. Please give me an explanation as to why *there is not a goddamn thing out there right now*? Why do our electronic signals yield no response? Why are the waves out there hundreds of feet high? Why do the skies look violent? Why do even the freaking continental shores look different?”
“I think… I think we focused too much on ensuring… that we could pre-empt the threat…” said Dr Bradshaw. “If I had to guess… I don’t think we defined ‘threat’ clearly enough…”
“What do you mean?”
Dr Bradshaw cupped his head in his hands, and there was something completely eviscerating about seeing him give up. As Dr Bradshaw’s words dribbled out in defeated tones, Commander Norlum felt the last strands of hope slip through his fingers.
“We thought to be prudent, so we defined ‘threat’ as basically anything that meant us harm… and I think… I think we’re back before there even was *life* on this planet…”
---
/r/rarelyfunny
| "Sir?"
I stood unmoving, hands clasped behind my back. I stared ahead as if considering what the petty officer had said with great thought. Inside, however, I felt a deep worry start to tear at my gut.
"No response? None at all?"
"No sir," he confirmed. His eyes bounced worriedly around the small communications room. I could just about hear his heart start to speed up. He was nervous.
Hell, he had good right to be. It'd been four hours since we had resurfaced some miles off the coast of South Carolina, and not a single soul in the world had responded to us.
"Is there some kind of issue with our signal, our devices?"
"Not that I can make out, sir," another voice said from across the room. The skinny, wiry man was seated at an LED screen, checking various lines of communication. "Everything seems to be in working order. We just aren't getting any responses."
I furrowed my brow in thought. What could this mean? If everything here was in working order, then perhaps there were issues at base. A power outage? That seemed unreasonable. Unless there was a power outage across the entire state, I couldn't see how no one would get back to us within 4 hours, especially when they were expecting us to resurface today.
"Could it be an EMP sir? An attack to our communications?"
A worried murmur began to spread in the small, crampy room. There were only 5 of us in it at the time, with the rest of the small crew below in the reactor room or in bunks. I scowled at the seaman who spoke.
"That's enough imagination out of you seaman!" I barked at him. His worried expression snapped compulsively to attention. I couldn't let my men's imagination run wild. And I couldn't show that the unknown of the situation was getting to me as well... no matter how much I currently wanted to crawl into a hole and wait this one out. I stood up a bit straighter, my chin a bit higher, and tried to make myself look a bit annoyed at the situation, but nothing more.
"Seaman Garth," I said, identifying the man who blurted about his EMP conspiracy. "Go clean the latrine."
I could feel the heat coming off his face, but he responded with a quick, "Sir, yes sir," and left. Someone snorted from across the room but I pretended not to hear.
Suddenly, another of my men strode up to me, saluting. "Sir, unidentified aircraft spotted floating near us." I heard a hint of worry in his voice. I arched a brow at him.
"First I hear conspiracies of EMP's going off, and now I got UFO's floating around the place?" I let out a tired groan and tried to seem like this was my every Tuesday. I walked past the man, approaching the stereotypical binoculars we had coming out of the ceiling of the submarine, and peered into them.
It floated just above us, a great blotch of black against the dark, overcast skies. It wasn't black though... rather it seemed to simply draw in all the light around it, completely and absolutely. I wasn't sure how I could tell that from a little under a mile away through a telescope, but I could. I felt my mouth drop open as recognition boiled through me, taking the blood from my face and leaving my fear nice and neat on my sleeve.
"S-sir?"
I spun around, not trying to keep the fear and desperation from my voice.
"Emergency dive, EMERGENCY DIVE!"
My men seemed to stand completely still for what felt like an eternity, but probably amounted to a few moments. Then they began to rush around, initiating our dive back down to the depths of the sea. I struggled to keep the fear off my face but knew it was a losing battle. I stared hard ahead.
They had come.
| 2017-12-19T07:04:31 | 2017-12-19T05:47:34 | 46 | 24 |
[WP]You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired.
Inspired by *The Merchant Adventurer*, by Patrick E. McLean.
EDIT: Wow, thanks everyone that contributed! The awesome Patrick E. McLean (/u/patrickemclean) stopped by, gave a snippet from his book in a comment, and even gave us a link to listen to *The Merchant Adventurer* as an audiobook:
>Okay, a bit unusual, but since I wrote the book that inspired this writing prompt, Here's mine. The Merchant Adventure is available as a free audiobook if you want the whole thing: http://podiobooks.com/title/the-merchant-adventurer/ | First day open for business! After years of saving up and working as a blacksmith apprentice, I have finally been able to open my own armors and weapons shop. Ever since I was a young boy, I have heard so many grand stories of heroes and adventurers from travelling merchants, now finally I too can become a stop on their story. As my gaze swept the room one final time, it lingered on each piece of equipment on display. Each sword, dagger, plate, and everything in between I made with my own hands. I still had much to learn but many long nights were spent toiling away at each piece, sharpening to my utmost ability, pounding away with all my might. Adventurers will be able to rely on me, my creations will lead them through danger and hell. I inhaled the smell of fresh wood and polished metal lingering in the room and settled down behind the counter.
The door slammed open drowning out the little bell that rang feebly in comparison. A lean tall man strolled in and judging by his armor he was a knight, and a magnificent one. His armor was gleaming a deep onyx black with sharp horns and jagged edges along the greaves and gauntlets. His helm in the crook of his hand was sinister with what looked to be dragon horns decorating it. There was a faint violet glow surrounding him pulsating with wisps of light flickering off. A magic set. With him was a large leather sack bulging to the brim with items carried easily over his shoulder. He glanced at my wares with what could only be a deep look of distaste and boredom before coming in front of me.
“What town is this shop keep?”
“This is the village of Dalry along the Whispering Rill. How can I help you today sir knight?”
The knight sighed audibly before pulling out his map, ignoring the question. He scanned the map for a moment before putting it away.
“Last time I get black-out drunk without teleportation stones. Tell me, do you know the way to Torpin Fortress?”
“Ah, you are a long ways off your course. It would be a 4 days walk north past The Granite Chasm. I must warn you, the warlock that- “
“Yeah yeah, terrible power this, forbidden magic that.”
He brushed off my heed with a gesture and swung his bag down with a crash on the counter. Out spilled brilliant gems, swords, and heads of magnificent beasts. I have never seen such rare items before. Strangely enough there were large amounts of rusty silverware and plates present too.
“How much can you give me for this?”
“Sir knight I must apologize, my shop is still fairly new. I have but 100 gold to my name and could not possibly- “
“I’ll take it.”
“Wait wha- “
The knight casually shoved the bag towards me causing it to spill its’ contents all over the floor behind the counter. I hesitantly opened my drawer and gathered up all the coins I had left. He snatched them from my hands and dropped them into his bulging coin pouch where I could see glimpses of platinum.
SLAM
He was gone as fast as he came. There I stood dumb-founded before slowly cleaning up. I had gotten an incredible deal and would be able to make a fortune on what he brought in. Yet I was not filled with joy. I had dreamt of the kind of encounters I would have, the kind of people I would meet. But for that adventurer I was not even a person. My wares did not gleam as brightly as first thought. Looking at them again, I could see minor chipped edges, dull tips, and imperfections in my work. Perhaps it was still too soon for me to think I could provide anything useful at all. The tinkling of the bell caught me by surprise and I looked up abruptly.
A young boy was peeking in through the door. When he caught my gaze, he slowly walked in and stood reservedly at the front. Clutched tightly in his hand was a slip of paper, what looked to be from the town’s notice board. He started to speak but was stumbling over his words before taking a deep breath and exhale. He stood up straight and puffed out his chest with a determined look in his eyes.
“The tailor has given me a task to kill rats. I am in need of a weapon, shop keep!”
A smile came to my lips as I walked over to him. We always did have a bit of an infestation problem to the west of our village, and it always drove that old tailor crazy. I knelt down beside him and put a hand on his shoulder. He was thin but had the muscles of a farmer. His dirty blonde hair was cut short, and freckles dotted his face molded in an expression of feigned bravado.
“Of course young adventurer. What can I get you?”
His expression changed to that of doubt and nervousness. He pulled out a few silver pieces and laid them out on a palm for me to see not wanting to meet my gaze any longer.
“I do not have much… but I promise you I will pay you back ten-fold when I become a hero!”
His eyes filled with fire and determination though his trembling mouth gave him away. I took the silver pieces from his hands and stood up. Walking over to the nearest dagger, I took it off the pegs which I admit was not my best work. His eyes widened, filled with awe, as I brought it closer for him to hold.
“Come traveler, let me show you my wares.”
| Jolder grimaced into his cup of tea when he heard the chime of the bell. *Another bleeding customer. Ah, well, the tea is cold anyway. When was the last time I had a hot mug of tea?* He drained the cup in one gulp, shuddering at the temperature, and made his way to the front of the store.
He rounded the corner, an unpleasant squelch meeting his ears. He held his breath. Standing at the counter was a hunter, bow slung over his back, a look of smug satisfaction playing across his features. Jolder couldn't see far enough into his hood to identify the man.
"Good afternoon." Jolder said, inclining his head minimally to his patron. "How can I be of assistance to you...?"
"Mandorin. Of Grinnet. I've brought you the synapses of a Mind Flayer." He indicated the burlap sack oozing on the counter. "It wasn't an easy kill, but I got the job done."
Jolder steeled himself before lifting the edge of the sack to peer inside. *Well I'll be damned. This bumpkin actually managed to kill an Illithid* He squashed his excitement, instead favoring his patron with a look of disdain. "The synapses. Yes. However, you've neglected to cut them out. What am I to do with the head of a Mind Flayer?"
Mandorin lifted the hood from his head, glaring daggers at Jolden. "I've brought you the damned thing. I'm no surgeon, that's what you're for, isn't it?"
Jolder arched an eyebrow at him, not dropping his gaze. "Aye, it's what I'm for. But it'll cost you. I'll not give you full payment for a job I have to do myself. Five knuckles." He fished five gold coins from the pocket of his coat to toss onto the counter. Mandorin's face was murderous.
"Five knuckles! Five knuckles, he says! A mind flayer's synapses are easily worth fifteen!" He was seething.
Jolder met his glare impassively. "Aye, they are worth fifteen, when they've been properly extracted. The process is a dangerous one, you're lucky you didn't try. Then, they'd be worthless, and you'd be dead."
Mandorin's jaw clenched around what Jolder could only assume was a veritable tirade of insults. "I won't take less than ten." he spat, acidly.
Jolder smiled widely. *You cannot hope to win this game, boy* "I'll give you five, and a one use, two hour, scroll of invisibility."
"Eight." He fired back. "I brought you the teeth as well, you can use those."
Jolder inclined his head minimally. "Eight, the scroll, and you have to clean my counters and floor." He indicated the congealed mess on his counter with a nod.
Mandorin sighed. "Done. Filthy thief." | 2016-10-16T10:00:13 | 2016-10-16T09:13:08 | 999 | 91 |
[WP] Your life is an endless series of horror movies. You're always at the wrong place at the wrong time. You're stuck seeing all your friends die right after you make them. The reason you're still alive? You can hear the horror music. | Jamie pushed open the door to the diner, and the gush of warm air rolled over him like a blanketing smog. He took a deep breath, and picked through the smells to identify roasting meats, fresh coffee, synthesized pine…
Good. No whiff of fear, insanity or death.
Jamie pricked his ears, as he was wont to do, and hearing nothing but the gentle snowfall outside and the din of humanity inside, strode on in.
The server, unusually warm and friendly for working staff on Christmas Eve, asked if Jamie had a reservation. Before he could answer, a voice rang out from a nearby table, “Mr Coulson? Please, over here.”
He was elderly, around 60 or 65 by Jamie’s estimation, judging by the greyed hair, leathery skin and sunken eyes. The texture and cutting of his clothes made it clear he was well-to-do, but why then the grim pallor of his demeanour? Perhaps it was some health issue, or some other burden on the mind.
Jamie took his hand in a firm handshake, and winced at the wiry strength still evidently possessed by his companion. Words were exchanged in the introduction, though Jamie wasn’t really paying attention. As long as he did not hear those notes these days, Jamie really didn’t care much about anything.
“James, is it alright if I called you James? Well, James, thanks for coming to meet me. I would like very much to employ you. I have need for your particular set of skills.”
The glass paused midway to Jamie’s mouth as the words sank in. “What skills?”
“Why, your uncanny ability to survive, that’s what. I’m in need of someone who is able to soldier on despite the odds, no matter how crushing they are. Far better to hire someone suited for the job, rather than to sieve through replacements endlessly…”
A heaviness weighed on Jamie’s chest. On one hand, the idea of a new job was enticing. It was too long since his last employment, and the insurance money was running out. But to go through the cycle again? To make new friends, to take root somewhere, only to have it all burned to ashes again?
“Oh no, Mr Hallowell. You seem like a nice guy, so I’d be honest with you – you don’t want to hire me. Bad things happen wherever I go. Thanks for the offer, but really, I cannot…”
Hallowell held up a finger. “Cause and effect, cause and effect. Look, James, I’m not asking to know how you managed to do it, you can keep your secrets. But I’ve done my research. The Lyndon Hill Massacre? The fire which gutted half of downtown? The downing of Flight 332? You’re the same guy who made it through all those, the lone survivor. And I need someone like that.”
Jamie hated to admit it, but the curiousity burned. He pricked his ears, but still nothing, just the usual humdrum of a city diner. He shrugged.
“Go on Mr Hallowell. What is this job?”
“Building supervisor, for one of the properties I own, a new mixed-used building on Sixth and Devonshire.”
And then, right on track, screechy violins began playing in the diner. Jamie shot up so fast he knocked his glass over, and only after he ascertained that there were, indeed, no apprentice violinists around, and that no one else was hearing the godawful music, did Jamie sit back down.
“I apologise for that, I thought I heard something. Anyway, what’s so special about this building that you need me?”
“Well, you see. The last five caretakers perished in horrifying ways, one after the other. Look, here’s the tenant mix, you’ll understand.”
The folder slid across the wooden table, and Jamie found what appeared to be a whole stack of tenancy contracts in them. Clipped behind each set of contracts were detailed notes and photographs. The violins continued, building up as percussions and drums started chiming into the mix.
“Mr Hallowell,” Jamie began, “I think I see your problem. It’s the type of tenants you’re attracting.”
“Oh believe me, I know it’s the tenants. Question is, which one? These two families in the penthouse, who my private detectives tell me have gypsy ancestry and longstanding feuds? Or this other brood where every female in their 10-person family look like carbon copies of each other, just at different ages? Or perhaps this antique shop which opened at the corner, for which I don’t remember negotiating but just opened up one day?”
“I can’t say, Mr Hallowell, not from these notes alone.”
“That’s just one folder James. There’s more. There’s the Japanese family who, according to my security cameras, only moved in a single 75 inch television, no other furniture whatsoever. There’s the three guys who leased the shop unit to run a clown academy course. Kappa Pi Wifi from the college nearby also took out a lease for a new clubhouse on the 8th floor, so that they would have a place to hold their parties.”
Mr Hallowell’s voice rose as he got more agitated, and Jamie thought it best to let him finish.
“Or what about the bloody group of ladies who later turned out to be ex-nuns trying to setup a quiet orphanage on the 9th floor? Or the three scientists who converted the 10th floor to a science laboratory running research on genetically modified foods? My office tells me that one guy even wanted to rent out the basement level, because he’s a part-time archaeologist who believes that there was an ancient burial ground there from god-knows-when!”
In the quiet that developed after Mr Hallowell’s tirade, Jamie noticed that the music had stopped.
“So, James, do me a favour. Take the job. You’ll survive this one yet.”
| I look like a fucking psycho, and that's okay. I dance in public, always moving to the music I can hear, always smiling a little. When I've got a cigarette, I wave it like a conductor's wand, in time with the tritones and minor scales. Try it; it's fun.
The music I hear spans eras -- spans lifetimes -- and that's why I can't help but dance! It's always such good music, even though it's ominous and supposed to be a warning. But it's often so delicious, you know?
Picture this: you're in a gas station in a small town in east Texas when the roar of ATVs starts to rumble into your hearing. Feedback from an electric guitar rolls into a slow, lumbering series of chugging riffs, building steadily, note by note, as those ATVs draw closer. And then a single note rings out above the chaos as the leader shuts off his engine, metal hooks and chains in hand. It's piercing, building tension, not even a note in the scale, unsettling, dissolving into noise against the rusty scrape of iron over concrete...
God, I barely made it out of that, but I just _had_ to stick around and hear that one note! You just had to be there, I guess.
Like that mass stabbing at my old university? I knew when Sasha snapped because of that gated snare motif. Just one, thunderous hit. One hit that reverberated through my head as I watched Jo-Beth Casey tell just one joke too many about Sasha's dead mother. And then the 80s synthesizers started and I started to dance.
As the knife plunged through the students around me, I dodged and weaved to the beat of drum machines and programmed strings. I swear David Bowie could have been crooning in the distance.
But you know... it's hard to make friends when they ignore your warnings. You know what it's like to shout at the screen when a character is gonna open the closet, right?
Imagine people opening the closet every fucking day. It gets exhausting.
I had a girlfriend once, but she wouldn't believe me when I told her the music meant she had to lose her virginity to stay alive. She called me an asshole and ran off on her own, despite my earnest protests. It was dark and she was eaten by a grue.
So she left me, on the other hand, to die a virgin. But then I figured out a loophole and _fucked the grue_. I knew it would work because A: the music stopped. And 2, I'm still here, aren't I?
Shut up. You'd do it, too, if you had my gift and had to think quick.
So I look like a psycho when someone dies nearby. When unlucky kids tumble into wood chippers. When my best friend got covered in blood and set the school on fire. When I noticed a tiny, odd shaped box in the attic.
Speaking of, I didn't sleep that night. I didn't open that puzzle box, so the music played constantly as long as I looked at the damned thing. I may or may not have been drunk and swaying to the soundtrack. Maybe.
But anyway, as long as I listen to the musical cues, I don't think I have to worry about dying -- well, as long as I don't worry about looking like a psycho. And I wouldn't trade that for all the friends in the world.
____
Edit: proofreading, sorry.
| 2016-12-31T21:41:16 | 2016-12-31T20:39:30 | 670 | 397 |
[WP] There is a bar located between life and death. All those who died sit for their last drinks before marching onto the afterlife. Unbeknownst to them, the bartender is also the judge. Forgiveness is up to God. Retribution is the Devil's call. Judgement is given by the one who serves you drinks. | I was dying and I knew it.
It didn’t hurt, most of the time, and I wasn’t afraid. Mostly I was a little sad, but getting impatient. I wanted it over with, and the little bright spots of awareness were becoming fewer, and the commas of sleep becoming longer and more frequent. Family came and went, hands held mine, words were said and I felt loved and loved in return.
During a bright spot, I woke to see I was alone, feeling particularly good. I waited to see who would come. No one did. So I did what I normally would and rested, but I didn’t sleep. I kept glancing at the open door, and no one came. I wasn’t falling asleep, and I don’t know how long passed, but I finally lost patience and pulled my IVs and catheters, which stung and bled a little, and moved to get out of bed.
Pausing before pushing myself out of bed, I noticed someone had set out my clothes for me, some practical but nice pants, a nice button down and my favorite tie, some comfy Sperry Gold Cup boat shoes — no socks, I hate socks — and a pair of thin wool underwear... And finally a silk vest.
I was mildly surprised, pleased really, but got dressed, and stepped out the door, walking the rest of the way out of the hospital. The parking lot was empty, and I started to wonder if this was like 28 Days Later, and started scanning for zombies. Or what might be zombies, I really had no idea.
“Hello?” I shouted, as if, than for no other reason, it seemed like the thing to do. Nothing. No response. Wind blew. I started walking toward the center of town.
I spotted a lit “open” sign on a friendly looking Irish pub, but, feeling it may be a trap, waited from a vantage point I felt offered enough concealment that I was hidden, but also enough egress routes I could run. I felt stupid in my nice clothes, but what can you do.
Nothing happened. I got bored and figured it must not totally be bad if there was enough infrastructure to power an “open” sign.
“You’re dead, Jim,” said a man behind the bar who looked like Dr. McCoy, too much like Dr. McCoy, and I realized two things: one, that I was indeed dead, and two, that the afterlife was having a bit of fun an my expense having experienced two of my favorite entertainment genres already.
“Very funny,” I said to the bartender. “I really appreciate the effort all this took.”
“It was a nice change. Most people like to wake up to parties, or orgies, or the beach, or,” he broke off in disgust, “yet another open field of waving grass.”
“Yeah, that would have been a dead giveaway.”
“With the puns already I see.”
“Hah,” I said, feeling a little embarrassed and nervously scratching my head. “I couldn’t resist.”
“No, it’s funny. Some people really start losing their minds at this point, but you — .” He paused.
“I guess I wanted to be here for a while. It’s not that life was so hard, or that I was unhappy, I just wanted to get moving on, and let my family let go.” I became a little thoughtful for a second.
“I’ll really miss some of them.”
The bartender laughed.
“You’ll be seeing some of them soon enough. By the way, do you want a drink? This is a bar after all.”
“‘Choose wisely,’” I wheezed, mimicking the immortal knight from Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade, which earned me a quick smile from the bartender.
“Do you have Buffalo Trace bourbon,” I asked as my eyes wandered across the selection. “If so, I’d like that with some ice and San Pelle — .” I noticed the bartender already making my request.
“Thanks,” I said as he passed me my drink.
“You’re welcome.” He said, glancing up, and holding his gaze meaningfully.
We just stared at each other for a moment.
“You were kinda an asshole in life,” the bar tender said. “I’m not really sure what to do with you.”
“But I was an asshole who gave a shit.”
I’d be lying if my heart didn’t race a little on that one. The bar tender froze.
Than laughed, heartily, briefly.
“It’s time for you to get going,” he said with some warmth and firmness. I finished my drink. It was nice and smooth, with hints of vanilla and honey, and some acidity and fizziness from the Italian mineral water. The ice hadn’t all melted yet.
“I’ve decided you still have a ways to go, so get out there and find your way east,” he was saying as he pushed my way out the door.
“Don’t talk to flowers, or fawns, and keep this towel on you,” he said, handing me the towel, with a final shove out the door.
Looking back, the bar wasn’t there anymore, just a scruffy looking patch of over-crushed grass in the middle of a field.
“God damn it,” I muttered.
“You better hope not,” a little whisper tickled my ear. | One minute I was walking down a dark alleyway to "hidden gem" kind of place that I absolutely loved. The next minute I was in a clearing with nothing in sight except one building. Collecting my wits, I looked at the only thing I could actually look at and noticed that it was a bar.
"Bar-atory" the sign read. I noticed people regularly entering, but never leaving. I don't know how long I stood in the clearing, there was no indication of any kind of time. Did it even have any meaning here? Where the hell is here? How did I end up here?
I knew there was only one way to get the answers. I went through the door, and entered "Bar-atory"
The bar itself was just like any other. The background hum of random chatter, glasses and utensils clinking, random shouting, the whole works. I noticed a vacant stool up at the bar and sat down on it. As if by magic, the most beautiful woman I had ever laid eyes on appeared behind the bar. "What'll it be?" she asked.
"Does it really matter?" I replied.
"Not really, no." she said as she went up to the tap and poured something into a cup before handing it to me.
"What do I do about payment?"
"It's on the house."
I took the drink and took a sip. Jack Daniel's and Pepsi Max. Perfectly mixed. Looking again at the tap, I noticed that there was no way to select the drink, it just somehow knew what to dispense.
"Where am I?" I finally asked.
"Isn't it obvious, hun? You're in purgatory between life and death. This is the final stop before the afterlife, a chance to reflect and clear your mind."
I finished the drink and slammed it down on the counter. "So, that means there's no concept of time here?"
"Nope. This is just one of an infinite number of bars where time does not exist. We just had the one at first but it quickly reached its limit and people were thrown off by the queues so we switched to a 1 bar per person thing."
"Wait, so all the people here aren't real?"
"No, they are based on your memories of bars from life. It always makes them more comfortable."
I had to admit, it was relaxing in its own way. A sense of familiarity before being cast into the unknown.
"So, do you even have a name?"
"Lilith"
"Now there's a name I haven't heard in a while."
"Yeah, you really wasted your 20s with that particular phase"
"Well, since I have all the time and drinks I need, get me a refill. I'll get to thinking once I finish sorting out the jumble of-" My voice trailed off, I couldn't think of the right word to describe my feelings right now.
"Sure thing, hun!" | 2021-03-08T22:04:34 | 2021-03-08T21:54:23 | 94 | 62 |
[WP] Teleportation has been around for years. It's considered the safest form of travelling. One day, while hacking into a government system, you find a secret report on it. To your horror, you read that teleporters consist of two parts: a cloning system on one end and a desintegrator on the other. | I was terrified.
My whole life, I had stepped in hundreds of teleporters, in fact, I had just been in one ten minutes ago. Which would mean my current body was only minutes old, and that my original body was long dead...
"Hey Jim,", said my friend from the other room, what did you find?
I had no words.
My friend walks over and glances at the screen.
"Oh you managed to find the teleportation schematics, good, now that we've done that we can figure out how to redirect one of them in order to kidnap- Hey, you seem bothered by this, did you not know? Omigod I can't believe it, you are one of those morons who don't understand how teleportation works.
Look, what even is consciousness? It's a collection of particles and forces in a certain configuration, that evolves based on the next time step in the world. 30 years ago we figured out that the universe's tick rate is the planck time, and that smaller time steps don't make any sense. So so long as your pattern is mostly consistent from one planck time to the next, you remain "conscious". Like think about it, what happens when you move normally? Your particles are rendered from one position to the next, and depending how fast you are moving, you move different distances with each planck time.
All a teleporter does is read the state of every single one of your particles in an instant, but this process results in the instant destruction of the current particles. These are recycled into someone else. But all the information, what makes you, you, is quantum teleported to the next machine, and in that exact planck time, you are recreated, of course, using other people's particles. Same state, just with a much larger movement, and therefore continuous consciousness. Due to weight differences sometimes we gotta feed some extra atoms into a machine or another, but it tends to average out.
The regular folk weren't going to understand this kind of thing, so the government concocted something about hyperspace tunnels and added like 0.1 seconds of perfect virtual reality space tunnels so people would think that they actually traveled physically through some other dimension.
Snap out of it, geez, I can't believe we hired a moron."
&#x200B;
MEANWHILE IN THE SIMULATION COMMAND ROOM
"Hey Carl, how's the perfect apple pie generator simulation going on?"
"Ugh, this universe created teleportation, and you know how ethical regulations say that once a life form reaches a certain complexity it is considered "living" and we need to give it an afterlife until it gets bored? Yeah, its fine because our infinite time death parallel server can run a few billion no problem with minimal energy consumption, especially since most of them get bored of existence within a few intervals, and even the most persistent ones only stick around for a few thousand intervals before accomplish all that can even be accomplished with the physics engine we gave them."
"Yeah, so what's the problem with teleportation?"
"Well the problem is that each time they go through one it flags them for death, and moves them to the parallel server, and these buggers are teleporting all the time, and now we have a few trillion lifeforms on this server, and its costing a ton of energy since so many of them are sticking around since this simulation also discovered "drugs", and thus like to stick around even more annoying long. I'm already over the energy budget, and at this rate, the boss is going to dock my pay for using so many resources".
"Well it appears they only die once? Why do you have to keep all the iterations, especially the ones that are only there for like, 10 seconds when "they forgot something and had to go back through the teleporter to grab it?". Can't you just concatenate them into one singular lifeform and then simulate that one once it finally expires?"
"Well, ethical review board says so, why don't YOU try and convince them"
"ugh, stupid regulations" | Well of course it had to disintegrate us on one end and send us out the other. I know that, my mom knows that. And other than a fuzzy tingle all over, it was comfortable. Why fly for hours the get home for Christmas and deal with the sleet, snow and worst of all the people. The news used to advise people to leave by 4am. Yeah 4 in the freaking morning A.M. now we just head to the local pad about a block away. And its a quick block to my mom’s house for dinner. I can visit whenever and some mornings I head over before work because she has her own espresso machine.
But this. God . This means that we’re atomized and reconstructed our of grey goop. Nano machine grey goop. The same things we pointed at Mars to habilitate it and make it a resort destination. Hell, I’ve been to Ceres for low G table tennis tournaments. Fuck. I fucking died on my first trip to the zoo when I was 5. Who the fuck am I? When I fractured my arm, sure the little bits were already putting my bones back in place and closing the gash. I don’t even have a scar. Modern medicine is great, but that’s only because the bots have had a lot of practice putting us back together several times a day. I’m not crying, but tears are falling. Silver tears? My skin is like putty my eyes can’t focus whatrhefucisxjijiiuiuuuuuuuuuuuu | 2019-12-08T11:36:41 | 2019-12-08T11:33:22 | 2,163 | 101 |
[WP] All of your partners tend to end up dead under mysterious circumstances. Of course it's you that is killing them, but they'll never prove that. You do it because you've fallen for The Grim Reaper and this is the best way to see them. | "What's a date without trying something new?"
I smiled at Richard. I knew it was the perfect mix of coy and enticing, because of how his right eyebrow raised slightly higher than the other, the edge of his eyes crinkling, and his mouth turning into that half-smile that has swooned so many a man, shadows dancing on each change of his handsome face.
"It smells amazing, that's for sure," he said. He closed his eyes, lifting his head ever so slightly, inhaling the scent of the painstakingly-made gyros in front of him. "I didn't know you could make Greek food."
"Well, you won't know until you bite into it," I laughed. "A pretty facade does not mean it actually tastes good, yeah?"
"Oh, come on, Haim," Richard said, grabbing the fork and spoon beside him, turning those tools towards his new object of obsession. His eyes lit up, his tongue flitted out quickly, sweeping his lips--something he never notices--and he begins to dig in.
"I'm certain it'll be delicious," he said, and he took the first bite. His eyes closed now, his face suddenly a serene expression of bliss. A soft, satisfied sigh emanated from within, and as his eyelids lifted leisurely, his gaze fixated on me: of intense desire and admiration.
My smile had changed into a smirk now.
"Was it good?"
"Phenomenal," Richard said, the half-smile popping out once again. But that smouldering look indicated he was thinking of something else, far more appetizing than dinner. "Just like you."
"Oh, stop it," I said.
"It's true. I can't believe how lucky I am to have you in my life."
"It's the same for me, Richard," I said, reaching my hand over and placing it over his, feeling the protruding veins of his human, mortal self, almost feeling the blood flow and the heartbeat through each vessel. "You don't know how much I need you."
"I need you right now," he whispered sultrily, his expression hardened and tensed as he prepared to leap out of his seat.
"Please," I said. "Sit back and relax. It's easier that way."
He smiled, shutting his eyes once more, and leaning back expectantly.
I smiled too.
One second. Two. Three.
"Pretty peaceful way to go," the love of my life said. Death himself emerged from the shadow of Richard's still body, that oh-so-eager expression still on his face, none the wise. His voice jumpstarted my heart, and his featureless visage came into view as it approached the candlelight.
"I took your advice," I said, shying away abashedly.
"Indeed," Death said. His voice stayed monotone, His hollow sockets continued to stare into my soul. "Less time cleaning up, more time I can spend here."
"There you go again," I said. "Talking about work, when I've gone to all this work to set up this dinner."
Death was silent for a long while. His bony fingers reached out to Richard, dragging its soul out. Richard's once-handsome face was now contorted horrifyingly into shock, anger, disgust, upset: the telltale signs of a loved one's betrayal.
I waved goodbye. It was only right. After all, I needed him, and he did well. Death continued pulling, and it didn't take long for Richard to disappear into the darkness, never to be seen on the mortal realm again. Well, at least until I was done with the remaining vessel.
"I appreciate it," Death said.
"You better. I can never tell what you are thinking," I huffed. "So I'll take you for your word."
His hand now crept over the table, touching me briefly. His stygian touch was cold, but so utterly intoxicating, like the finest liquor injected straight into my veins. It took all my willpower to resist discarding my own humanity, letting my soul jump into his arms, and eloping to the underworld.
Death asked: "Not today?"
"No," I said, withdrawing my hand. "I like our little arrangement for now."
"Why?"
"I want to feed you," I said. "What's good a partner that can't keep their love fed and full, without a single complication, after a long day's work?"
Death paused once more.
"I do not have much time to rest," He said. "This is quite nice."
"As it should be," I said. "I only have so many years to take the lives of others. Savour it while you can, love."
---
r/dexdrafts | "You've made it! I was beginning to worry that you'd stop showing up." Seeing her filled me with an ecstasy that no other person could ever give me. She lives in my mind day after day, and all I ever want is to be around her. Am I wrong for just wanting to be with someone that I love? I don't think I am. Some of you would do whatever it took to see loved ones, too.
"Of course I showed up, dumbass. I'm the Grim Reaper." As you can see, she likes to show tough love! "Don't you feel sort of fucked up for killing all of these innocent women? I mean, I know I'm one to be talking being *Death* and all, but man you are something else. How many times do I have to tell you that you don't have a chance, bud?"
"Oh c'mon! You're not even going to give a guy a chance? I could make you happy. Does my devotion to seeing you not move you at all? This is the 8th woman in the past 2 months!"
She pondered that fact for a second and blushed.
"Well, that is true. I can't say that any other person has gone through so much to try to see me, but its still not happening; get that through your thick skull."
"You're just playing hard to get. What do you want me to do? I've gotten you flowers, chocolates, jewelry, and even wrote poems about my love for you." Why are women so difficult and confusing?
"Do you really think the Grim Reaper, of all people, can be wooed with *chocolate*? Dude, I reap souls of dead people. You're completely delusional, and I'm leaving now."
"Well then I'll see you later?"
"Holy shit, I hope you get caught one of these days so you'll leave me alone."
And just like that she was gone.
I miss her already. Those moments with her are always so short-lived. I'll get her next time for sure. I think she was saying that I'm just not trying hard enough! I can try harder. No, I *will* try harder.
I'll see her again soon. | 2021-01-27T13:07:50 | 2021-01-27T12:41:03 | 83 | 29 |
[WP] people are born knowing the date they’ll die. However people have noticed children born in the last week share one date, farthest in the future. | 1 2 3 1 2 1 0 3
I rub my fingers over the numbers lightly. They stand out against the pale skin of my wrist. I pull my sleeve down to cover them. The bell on the door rings as a group of women wander into the shop, letting in a quick burst of cold winter air. They take a booth in the corner by the Christmas display and immediately begin chatting. I gather up my pad and make my way over to them, pen at the ready.
"What can I get for you, ladies?"
Their chatter trails off as they look up at me, smiling.
“Nothing, thank you,” says one. She's pretty, with dark skin and bright eyes. “We just wanted to get together somewhere, you know? We came from all over, and most places are closed today. Is it alright if we just sit here and talk?”
“Of course,” I tell them. “Let me know if you decide you want anything after all.”
They promise they will and I go back behind the counter. I keep busy with cleaning the coffe pot while they talk. They aren't loud, so their conversation doesn't quite reach me. I imagine what they could be talking about, who they are.
Bright Eyes said they came from all over. College friends, I decide. Moved off to different states after graduation, but kept in touch with each other. Didn't want to pick one person's house to spend the Last Day, so they opted to return to the town of their alma mater. It was a last minute decision. They wanted a hotel, somewhere private, but couldn't get a reservation this late. They met up at the park but it was too cold, so they piled into Bright Eye's mini van and drove around, looking for some shelter.
I glance over at them, trying not to stare. I try not to wonder if it'll happen here.
Why would they even come? Not one of them wanted to be with their family? Their spouses or lovers, kids, pets? What kind of bond do they have that they'd meet here, with each other, on their last day? On *the* Last Day?
I spend several minutes spinning stories in my head, but I can't come up with anything good enough. I don't suppose it matters, in the end. I pull my sleeve up to look at my wrist again. 1 2 3 1 2 1 0 3. Each number is evenly spaced. I tap them all once, lightly, and pull my sleeve back down.
“Hey!” I turn my head. The woman sitting across from Bright Eyes waves her hand. Nothing about her really stands out. She's ordinary. “We just wanted to know if you wanted to come sit with us. You, uh, you look a little lonely.”
I shake my head. “Thank you, but I'll pass. Not to be rude, or anything. I just want to be here. Have any of you changed your mind about ordering? No payment necessary, obviously.”
Ordinary's eyes widen at the rejection and she offers me a confused little grin. “I don't think so,” she says. She looks around at her friends for their opinions. They all shake their heads. “We'll pass, too. You can always join us if you want, though."
Their conversation rises again, though they're still not loud enough for me to be able to really hear them. I rub the numbers under my sleeve absentmindedly while I stare at the clock. It's almost twelve. I usually take my lunch now, on slow days. I take a bag of chips from the display by the cash register and push it around, considering. I put them back. My sleeve catches on the rack and I see the numbers again. 1 2 3 1 2 1 0 3.
“Excuse me.”
I look up. Bright Eyes is standing there. I pull my sleeve back down.
“What can I do for you?”
“I can't stand it anymore, I need one of those cupcakes,” she says. “Not like I need to watch my figure anymore.”
“Which one?” I ask.
She points at the red velvets. “One of those. Cream cheese frosting is my favorite.”
“You can have them all if you want.”
“Just one,” Bright Eyes says. She leans in and drops her voice to a whisper. “I'm still sorta hoping we all just glitched out, y'know? Like that old thing- what was it called? Y2K?”
I hand her the cupcake, nodding. “Let's hope,” I say.
The sleeve of her structured coat pulls a little as she reaches out to grab the cupcake. My eyes flick down to scan her wrist of their own volition. The numbers aren't as apparent on her darker skin, but they're there all the same.
1 2 2 4 2 0 6 7.
edit: math isn't my strong suit and i hecked up the dates | The virtually non-existent yet sternly constant flow of beeps,buzzers,and all kinds of sounds each coming from some gadget worth more than twice Jake's salary nearly took him to sleep as he forced himself to stand "You cannot dose off; you worked so hard to get here and i wont let you blow it!" he repeated to himself like a mantra as he stood to check the monitors of the nursery he scribbled the numbers from the screen and remained careful not to touch anything. The machines Jake was working with could tell everything about a baby- Potential defects,Health risks,personality traits and even the day that they would die. Jake,like all other workers at his level,had no idea how the machines worked and was quite sure no human alive did; nonetheless, he was happy and grateful for them as with all the 'gifts' AI had brought humanity.
"z-Zach" Jake muttered quivering as he transcribed the senseless scramble of numbers into dates on his computer "I - I think we have a problem here" He eagerly flipped his computer screen toward his coworker to reveal a screen filled with names, hundreds, no thousands of names followed by basic information like eye color hair color etc., but one column at the end was almost identical ... the one marked DeathDate.
"This is a bug right Zach?" Jake asked with a terrified tone, Zach had a degree in advanced computer science and compared to Jake was genius. "No this system can't bug, it's been run through the singularity several times .... I wonder why all these death dates are the same?" Seemingly triggered by Zach's words, the camera in the corner of the room looked away and all the dates were scrambled, some of the dates had already occurred.
"Zach ... i think we're being watched"
"I know"
"Z--zach that date was today"
"I know"
"what do w-"
Fsh-- The power suddenly went out cutting Jake off and sending the 2 into a panic, regardless of their struggles the door was somehow machine locked although the power had seemingly went out.
The 2 gravitated toward the window like moths to light and pulled the blinds; however, rather than being greeted by the illustrious light of the city they were met with a city of darkness, buildings like jagged pieces of brimstone shooting hundreds of feet into the sky defying the world unto which they were erected. The night held still in that moment in total darkness until a faint, red glow with no visible origin poured into the streets materializing out of thin air. Both men stood there like stones, unable to move or react they looked on as their world ended before them...
Sorry for bad writing/grammar mistakes this is my first post. | 2017-12-25T19:50:12 | 2017-12-25T14:14:17 | 18 | 13 |
[WP] You’re minding your own business and suddenly time just stops. The only problem is, your body is frozen in time but your mind hasn’t. After a thousand years, time resumes but you’re the only one whose mind wasn’t frozen. | 999.989 - 999.990 - 999.991 - All of a sudden, everyone around me started to move again.
Really?! I rolled my eyes. Just when I was about to finish counting to 1 million for the 1 millionth time! This had taken some proper dedication and they had to ruin it at the worst time possible! How annoying!
I ignored the woman next to me who started talking mid-sentence like nothing ever happened.
999.992 - 999.993
I was not going to let a silly little thing like "people around me moving" get in the way of my success! I HAD to finish this!
"Are you even listening, Clara?" The lady poked my arm slightly.
"Huh?" was all I could say. Clara? That rang a bell but.. I don't think anyone had used that name in what.. 100 years? 500 years? I certainly had stopped thinking about myself as the woman called Clara. I didn't even know what I was anymore.
Was I even human? What was "being human" anyway? - I could feel myself drifting into that train of thought again that I didn't want to pursue and instead focused on my counting.
999.994 - 999.995
"I was saying, Matt sent me flowers last night to make up for our missed date the other day when he had to..." Bla Bla Bla..
I zoned out. How could I ever talk about something so mundane again and pretend that it even slightly interested me? I was way beyond that! I had spent so long trapped in my own mind, I didn't even know what was real and what wasn't anymore. But flowers sent by someone a thousand years ago certainly weren't anywhere on my "list of important things"
999.996
She nudged me a second time. Irritated, I looked at her to find out what she wanted. I couldn't even remember her name.
"So, how was you date with Simon yesterday? He took you to this fancy new restaurant, right? That must have..." Bla Bla Bla
I wasn't sure that I would ever be able to come back from this. Surely someone, one day, would decide to send me to one of those facilities with white cushioned rooms and tight jackets that prevent you from self-harming. What were they called again?
I thought real hard for a second there. "Asylum", that's it.
999.997 - 999.998
That's where I was going to end up, I was sure of it! Although, I hadn't even lost my mind, which I still couldn't believe myself! But surely it would seem to other that I had. Oh well. Could be worse. I was used to being trapped in my motionless body. I was convinced I would be able to put up with it for another - what - 50 years that I might have left?
I chuckled, which confused the blonde woman next to me and I realised that she was waiting for an answer. Hah! First person who must be thinking I'm going mad! Not even five minutes in. Nicely done!
999.999
"ONE MILLION!" I shouted at the top of my lungs at the same time as the good looking guy sitting in the corner of our train carriage and our eyes locked. | Suddenly the people around you start to move. Nothing new, you've had this dream countless times over the years. You watch them move about and wonder what the story will be this time, until you get knocked aside.
"Move it, junkie!" The man grunts as he keeps walking by. Anger flares as you turn to shout back..
You turn. You haven't been able to turn in longer than you can remember. Were you ever able to move, or was it just a dream? You start to move different parts, first turning your head then waving an arm. It feels so strange, yet oddly familiar.
Another commuter pushes by, this one says nothing obviously in too much of a hurry. You stumble toward the street, how do legs work again?
The curb. You haven't thought of the curb in hundreds of years, it wasn't in your sight during the Long Stop. You're sure you could have managed it, if you hadn't forgotten about the bus that was pulling off. | 2020-09-17T23:47:15 | 2020-09-17T22:48:09 | 426 | 238 |
[WP] You're given a chance to see how many times you've been near death. The highest number of times anyone you know of has almost died, was 15, and they have a dangerous job. You just found out that your life has been close to ending 278 times. | “That’s impossible! 278!”
My wife had a look of absolute shock and I could see in her face a twinge of annoyance as well, as if she thought the technician who was doing the testing must be new or didn’t know how to work the equipment.
“It’s never been wrong before Ma’am.” the test technician said, answering my wife’s annoyance with a venom in her tone that was intended for anyone who would question her experience in preforming the exam. “I’ve done this test thousands of times before.”
This was probably true. Ever since the N.D.S.A machine, or Near Death Statistical Analysis machine was unveiled, millions of people had flocked to the nearest clinic to be given “their number”. My wife thought it was absolutely ridiculous. Why would people want to know how many times one has ALMOST died? As long as you are alive at the end of every day, who cares about the circumstances of how you got there. Nevertheless, society had almost dictated that those who could afford the test should take it, and so bowing to peer pressure she did. To almost no ones surprise, the answer came back. 0.
“I demand that you do the test again!” She said rather curtly to the young woman doing the test.
“Honey, I’m sure it’s just a glitch. We don’t need to do it again.” I said calmly as I re-buttoned my shirt after taking the suction cup electrodes off my chest and face.
She looked at me with a scrutinizing stare, as if she was trying to peer into my very soul. I could tell she was looking for something. Something I wasn’t telling her.
The car ride home was quiet. She didn’t say much. She mentioned in passing that she had a fund raiser to prepare for that evening and was getting together with the head of the Benefactors Committee to go over the final details. She often was gone in the evenings. Always planning this event or going to that fund raiser. When you’re the wife of a wealthy tech geek who had single handedly instituted affordable internet to all comers of the globe, you had a lot of social obligations to fulfill. Ribbon cuttings, interviews, she was in the public eye almost as much as I was, and was much better at it.
She left hurriedly and said she didn’t know when she was coming back, but to not wait up for her. She gave me a kiss and left. Again, I was used to this as it seemed to happen with more frequency lately, and so I sat down in front of the TV to catch up on the local news.
The usual stuff. Local homeless people setting up camp on the courthouse lawn, a fluff story regarding a cat waterskiing behind a boat driven by a mouse.
Looks like it’s going to be a quiet evening.
Just then, the local news channel interrupted our waterskiing feline with a breaking story. An explosion just south of town at an old abandoned warehouse.
Again? Another explosion? How many had it been in the last few months? 12? 13?
No one was ever injured but there was always damage to property and the potential to harm someone.
Reporters said they had received word that kids had been playing there this evening and were uncertain if they had caused the explosion but that they may still be trapped inside the burning building. Police and Fire crews had currently been dispatched but the building was in terrible shape and liable to collapse at any moment. They weren’t going to get there fast enough.
I switched off the television and proceeded to the study. I pulled the third book from the left side of the bookshelf towards myself and the trapdoor I had used so many times before opened like a gaping mouth ready to swallow me whole. I jumped inside and landed on the conveyor belt. Pieces of protective gear started appearing from out of the walls and my army of little robots fastened and bolted every piece I would need for a night of vigilante justice.
It started out as a test. Once you are rich enough to have anything you want, what else do you do? I built my first suit as more of an engineering challenge to myself. I always loved mechanical and chemical engineering, but there was just more money to be made in the internet business. This was supposed to be just a hobby.
I had employed several people along the way to help me, all of them paid handsomely for their silence, and now it was more of a compulsion than anything.
I had to help. It gave my life purpose.
It made me feel........alive.
I rushed to the hanger. I needed something fast but small enough not to draw attention.
The hoverbike.
I strapped in and shot out of the launchpad as fast as I could. GPS gave me 3 minutes to my destination. I can make it in time. Please let me make it in time!
The building was right below me. I could see the flames shooting from the ceiling. This was bad. Looking down with my infrared told me little. It was too hot. Everything was a blazing flash of crimson in my visor. I looked to the right of the warehouse.
Bicycles. 4 of them.
I landed the bike as fast as I could and rushed inside. The heat was intense. I called out for anyone to hear me.
“Hello!! Is anyone here!!! Answer me!”
I heard a faint cry from further up. I rushed as fast as I could towards the sound. As I got closer I saw a huddled mass on the ground. My pace quickened as I tried to reach the person lying there in a ball in the blaze. I reached down and quickly pulled them up to get them to stand.
And then my body froze.
“Hello dear. It seems you *have* been hiding something from me....”
Edit: Part 2 is in my noodle for anyone that wants it to continue. | She did her best. She was kind, she feigned a sense of empathy, but I could tell how scared she was as she tentatively told me the news.
Everyone knows that the only people who break 50 are those that have lifethreatening illnesses, and here I am with 278.
I accepted it pretty quickly, I just didn't understand it. My inner monologue started firing off questions. " I feel fine... It's not like I'm going through my days balled over in pain. I'm not fit, but I'm not fat."
She handed me a few pamphlets and suggested I try the one downtown, tapping the top pamphlet. I nodded absently and tried to catch up. I read the top, "What Ails You" It's a diagnostic center.
On my drive over I continued to delve into things, "No history of heart disease or diabetes. I almost always use protection... Fuck!!!"
Suddenly I was back in the drivers seat, my mind trying to play catch up. for a moment I felt frozen in time, here it was, the answer, my end. I caught back up to reality, And overcompensated as I jerked the wheel to the right. Narrowly Missing the car in the next lane as my mind, car and reality stabilized.
I provided my insurance, and started on the forms, things went quickly. Just a whole bunch of checkboxes for no, no pre-existing conditions, no allergies... None of this made any sense to me. Why me?
They put me on a treadmill and measured my heart rate and breathing. They prodded various spots and asked where I felt pain. They asked me if I had noticed anything unusual in the past while. I hadn't. They examined all my moles, seearched for cuts, bruises. Took some samples... my hair, my skin, my cheek. They promised to call with the results.
I entered my apartment and dropped my keys on the kitchen counter. I hadn't told anyone yet, and I didn't want to. I wasn't ready to have my family and friends react. I've seen how people react to high numbers on facebook. It's so shitty. Like you're dead already. I walked through the living room, past the couch, tv and xbox.
I crashed into my bed. Suddenly aware of a giant hole in my chest. I began to weap out of exhaustion, and then self pity. Newly aware of a new feeling in my chest. It felt as though my body was imploding into my chest. As if a giant blackhole had formed there. Is it my heart? is this existential dread going to physically kill me? I became an ugly mess, stifling my wailing in my pillow so my neighbors wouldn't hear. My snot spread across my pillowcase and I realized I was going to have to clean it up before bed or risk getting it all over myself. I cried harder when I realized I didn't care if it did.
Then it started. The sounds of the springs of their bed and the ceiling above trying to withstand the lovemaking of my neighbors above. The ceiling creaked and groaned in a steady rythm as they went about their lives, oblivious to my torment below. I could hear the wood splinter with the last groan, and I looked up to see the ceiling above me begin to bellow. Before I could shout the bed broke through, right on top of me. | 2018-07-27T13:27:53 | 2018-07-27T12:56:54 | 41 | 19 |
[WP] Humans are one of the most feared species in the galaxy. Not due to superior strength,speed,skill or strategy. In fact, it's because in comparison to the other species, humans are just batshit crazy enough to try any half-assed plan they come up with. | "Your majesty.." The diminutive, four-legged creature said, bowing formally.
"Step forward, High Engineer Raxus. I assume you have made progress regarding the device?"
"Indeed. My team has finally replicated the software needed to access it; it contained *hours* of footage, your majesty..." He stated, before hesitating. He ran a claw through his antennae nervously.
"Raxus? What was this footage..?" The Queen queried.
"I-I apologise, your majesty. It is... rather disturbing. I have barely slept, w-we've been analysing it since yesterday morning.." The High Engineer continued.
"Show me, please." The Queen asked firmly.
"Yes, at once, your majesty." Raxus bowed again, gesturing to an assistant behind him. A button was pressed on a controller, and a huge screen in the royal war room flared to life.
"Ok, ok... we-" A grown man on screen started, but paused to giggle with childish glee. "We're- Dude, stand still!"
"I'm trying!" Another man replied, clad entirely in tin foil except for his rear, which was exposed. "You aren't dressed like a damn space hooker with his pants down up here..!"
"These are.. adult males, yes?" The Queen asked.
Raxus nodded.
"And what *are* they doing.." She said, squinting her upper row of eyes.
"Ladies and gentlemen, this is Blast Off." The first man said, before giggling again and lighting a match. He held it up to a small rocket, attached to a zip line, and lit the fuse.
"..one small step for man.." The other, tinfoil-clad man started, as the rocket suddenly flared to life and sped up the line, aiming directly for the man's exposed ass.
"One giant leap for- Ow, GOD, *fuck*!!!" He was interrupted by the rocket pushing between his butt cheeks and planting itself firmly inside him, as the other man burst into raucous laughter.
"What in Z'hora's name..." The Queen uttered quietly, stunned.
"My thoughts exactly, your majesty.." Raxus agreed, equally disturbed by the footage, as the men on screen laughed uproariously and yelled profanity in equal measure, and the man with the rocket in his rear stumbled, falling off his platform, much to the enjoyment of his peers.
"That was his.. rectum, yes? From what you've told me it is an extremely vulnerable and painful area of the body.." She said, a fear in her voice that Raxus had never heard in decades of serving her.
"It is, your majesty.." He confirmed.
"A-and this.. this is a display of strength? A ritual the.. the warriors perform to prove themselves...? Much like how our royal guard smack themselves once on the chest when they are appointed to protect me.." She reasoned, trying to hide the distress in her voice.
"These must be some of Earth's finest warriors.." The Queen continued, in awe.
"Um... actually, your majesty, they are some of Earth's finest... jesters." Raxus corrected fearfully.
The Queen stared at him, mandibles open in shock. "Jesters...?! A-and.. that projectile, was that.. fire they used to propel it? How.. how barbaric, h-how unsafe!" She continued, her panic clear now.
"Fire, heat energy, and explosives are actually... quite common in Earth society, as a method of propulsion.. a-and even lighting. T-that's how their capsule reached our territory... explosives were used to launch it off-world initially." Raxus revealed, the High Engineer sounding just as disturbed as the Queen.
She stared at Raxus, then at the screen, staying silent for a few moments before she spoke with finality.
"Hide us, Raxus. Study all you can from their capsule, and then eject it from this world. Rescind the fleet into local orbit, focus the engineering corps' assets into further cloaking technology and increase the output of sensor jamming satellites tenfold. We must make sure these barbarians never find us." She decreed, as Raxus noted down her commands.
"At once, your majesty."
**Sixty-eight years earlier...**
"Hi, and welcome back to Good Morning LA!"
The gorgeous blonde woman beamed, before turning to another camera.
"Actor and producer Johnny Knoxville and his former Jackass co-stars recently crowdfunded over 6 million dollars to get the entire Jackass collection on SpaceX's latest capsule to be launched out of the solar system. In an initial press release, Knoxville said "it would be cool as s**t to show aliens Jackass". The launch is happening this afternoon. I'll be back soon for an exclusive interview with Johnny, but first, here's Rosita with the story of America's first dog martial artist.." | Captain of NA Drial to Federation HQ
I am afraid, scared and motivated, I know its odd way to put it but we may win the war against the Empire with the humans.
I mean, since humans first made contact they remained neutral, in their tiny solar system.
They had so much battle experience that we thought that humans maybe were empire species, but turns out they were fighting each other all along.
To classify the humans are reckless, suburb and brave. They did not like it when the Empire order them to surrender and give them an ultimatum of 48 hours to surrender, humans instead of surrender, every planet in their solar system started to go in lockdowb, Earth the center of human power and the home world issued order 450, an order that other species said that was to crazy go against the empire like that. The order 450 was simple, boost power to Earth's mighty iron shields, by using the planets raw core, they were sucking the planets thermal energy to power a shield, that amount of energy disturbed all sensor in the solar system, they hold the 48 hours like that until the Empire invaded, turn out the humans were not in the mood to go on the defense, they hidden an entire space ship fleet beside the solar system star, Earth's shields were not protecting Earth's but were protecting an enormous fleet from the star heat. Has soon the empire was in Earth's defense weapons a barrage of shots started to hit the empire ships, and then they warped all of the fleet be hide the empire ships.
They destroy, captured all empire ships, nothing was left of the empire. Earth's alone fleet and power won an entire invasion force more than a million empire ships more than 30 million soldiers either dead or captured, but the amazing part was that human fleet damage was 15 ships, a battalion that sacrifice them self to save the crown of the Earth's power the mighty, USS Helena, after that battalion fall the USS Helena shot a full range and power, a barrage of shots that alone killed more than 150 ships.
Humans are crazy, have a lot of power and they are not afraid to fight until the last man.
Has of right now the Redjop have joined the human fleet, but not with man but with ships, turns out that humans did not have enough ships to carry the military, 459 million, a single species has enough personal has the Empire combine. In this report I ask mercy to creator because, humans will most likely to use the Empire home solar system star has a bomb, I mean I hope they get some sense what they are doing. | 2017-03-06T01:24:08 | 2017-03-06T00:01:22 | 112 | 25 |
[WP] You live in a dystopian society divided into 10 levels of increasing wealth. Every level is only aware of those below it. You and your family believe yourself to be the highest class, but one day a man from 3 levels above comes to visit you, with some very disturbing information.
Edit: Thank you kind stranger! I appreciate the appreciation but really you should be Guilding the amazing writers below! Happy reading! | The perks were small things, mainly. There was extra food, there were newer shoes. We had better medicine and when we logged onto the Internet we had fewer restrictions. It wasn't all fun and games though. Being on the top level meant secrecy. We had the most perks, so we had the most to hide.
Going to public school was strange, looking down from the 5th tier it was easy to see all the things you had. You had been taught them from birth.
You would notice the longer hair of 4's. You would smell the lower quality soap of 3's. It was just subtle enough to maintain the illusion of equality. The 1's usually didn't know any better; they had never been told there was better. It was sad, really.
You learned to find other 5's pretty young, you could see it in their complexions, in their clothes. Only 5's got blue clothes, my dad told me, and that was the easiest way to spot us.
I asked my dad once, why we were fives, why we got the perks. He mentioned his job with the government, but avoided really answering. All I knew was that we were lucky.
Everything.... everything changed when we moved to the 6th tier. That was around age 14 for me, I was young enough to learn, but not old enough to realize what was really happening.
My dad had gotten a promotion at work, he told us, and we were going to be part of a secret few. We were going to be the start of a new social class, tier 6. It was unprecedented, he told us, they had never added a level before. We were so lucky to be a part of it.
That night I logged into the government system and sure enough my profile had updated. I was now a level 6. Level 6 brought new perks, and new changes. We were now allowed chocolate on holidays. I still remember that first Christmas, my first time tasting it. It came in our government meal package for the week and we all got messages on our profiles teaching us what it was.
We felt so lucky to be Six.
The way I found out, it was stupid really. It was a failure of parenting. The kid's parents had to go to a meeting with the Chancellor, and my mother was selected to do an extra shift at the tending center just for this kid. She offered to give me 2 of her weekly fun credits if I would watch him for her, and of course I agreed. I was still only 15 or so, and fun credits seemed like the most powerful thing in the world.
The evening was mostly uneventful, until the kid got comfortable with me. Then he started talking, as a 4 year often will. Then everything fell apart. He was chattering on about his dada and mama being so cool, about them getting him a new toy. I didn't think much of it, I figured they'd bought it with their fun credits.
Then it hit me. I'd never seen that toy in my store. I logged into my profile, and sure enough it wasn't there. I was a level 6. I was supposed to have access to everything.
He kept chattering and told me about his bed and how it was so soft, that he loved sleeping in it.
Our beds were hard little cots.
By the time his parents picked him up, I had heard everything I needed to know. I knew there had to be more than 6 levels, but I had no proof. I had the word of a 4 year old. I couldn't talk about my level, I couldn't bring this up without people knowing. What was I supposed to do?
I grew up, i got a good job. I raised my family with all the 6 perks. I just got word today.
I'm being promoted to 7. | "What do you mean you are 3 levels above me?" I asked, puzzled.
"That's exactly what I mean, I am 3 levels richer than you" he replied. "You see, our society was created that people are only aware of the levels below them, hence believing themselves to be the most fortunate people on earth, hence keeping them happy".
"But what about those in the lowest rungs?" I asked "Who do they compare themselves to?"
"Nobody. They just believe they live in a socialist utopia where everybody's income level is the same".
"But don't they run into people who are wealthier than they are in every day life?"
"Well, I am not sure how that works. Possibly OP didn't think it through so well".
"Who is OP?" I asked, bewildered at this new revelation.
"Oh, that's the one who posts a submission on which this scenario is based".
"What do you mean?" I hated sounding dumb at this point but I couldn't help myself. What he was describing was a truly bizarre world that made no sense at all.
"I mean, I am 3 levels above you because someone said so and you couldn't have possibly known of my existence prior to this even if we worked in the same office and I was your boss, driving a nicer car and living in a bigger house".
"That is truly disturbing what you are describing. I am not quite sure what you are talking about but it makes no sense to me whatsoever".
"Well you just perfectly described r/writingprompts"
| 2016-12-05T21:25:20 | 2016-12-05T18:17:53 | 60 | 29 |
[WP] You're the most powerful villian in the world. Formerly. Now you run a bar, that works as a neutral zone for heros and Villians alike. One day, a hotshot hero tries to arrest you. | "Look, I know you mean well, but this really is not the time or the place," I comment, cleaning the glass. The gun barrel is pointed at my temple, but honestly, I've seen worse. I don't really need to do anything.
"Right now you haven't actually done anything, so if you put that down, sit down, and order, nothing will happen to you. Everyone will go back to their drink and we will all pretend that you're not this much of a damn fool." I turn and put the glass away. He protests loudly but I am not really listening. I look to another patron. "I will be right with you Bernie," I promise.
"If you actually pull that trigger on the other hand," I add, as I pull a bottle from the display, "I cannot be responsible for what happens to you." I set a new glass in front of Bernie, and I fill it slowly. I am being vert dramatic but Bernie loves drama and will not mind. The man named himself "Bernie". He turns in to hot magma at will. He is good with this sort of thing.
"So, what will it be?" I actually turn to him. He still has the gun lowered a little but when I look at him he raises it again. He looks very young. His costume is new, and the tech looks pricey.
"You don't scare me. You heard me. You are under arrest." He projects his voice. I am absolutely certain he has a voice coach. No need to guess what this guy's superpower is.
"I'm not the one you need to be scared of." I observe, and nod toward the rest of the bar.
Money, it's definatly money.
The other patrons are standing up.
About half of them.
He turns and looks and then the gun lowers again and the half of his face I can see falls.
"Is this man bothering you ma'am?" A perosn in an exaggerated police uniform asks at the same time as a man in brightly coloured spandex and a cloak says "Son, I think you should leave now."
He looks to me and then to them.
"But you.. you are HEROES. How can you be defending HER?"
"The bartender is just serving drinks son. I don't see any laws being broken. Lisence is on the wall."
The kid lowers his gun all the way and splitters a bit.
"You know who she is!" He says at last.
"Kid. I'm the bartender. Are you ordering or are you leaving?"
He looks defeated as the huge hero in spandex puts a hand on his shoulder.
"Beer, please." He says, sitting down
"I'm gonna need an ID. Your registration will be sufficient I dont need anything with your actual.identity on it."
He looks up at the larger hero again. The man raises his eyebrows.
"... juice, please." He amends.
"Coming right up." I say. The heroes gravitate back to their tables, and conversation gradually resumes.
I get the kid a juice and the two who delt with the issue get a surrupticious refill, no words spoken.
Making trouble in the only bar one can reasonably expect to not be interrupted in, poisoned in, arrested in, or otherwise troubled in was not something anyone approved of.
Honestly it was years since I had had to do a thing to keep the peace here. The patrons did it for me.
The kid drinks awkwardly alone until one of the matronly older villains waves him over and he awkwardly joins her table with several other retirees (from both sides of the fence) and they have a long talk with him. He'll be better for it I am sure, but if she ropes him in to the poker game - and I know she will - he will certianly be poorer after tonight. Ahhwell. Lots of lessons learned. | ”Heros and villains will accidentally destroy most businesses. Mine is a bit different than most, it is protected by the most powerful villain of all time. No villain tries to steal from my register and most heroes don't preach their justice above all to me or my employees. Everyone and then they try to fight each other, but that gets shut down very quickly every time. Only new heroes and villains try anything and only those who found it on their own. Like one called Afgod who saw a warrant for arrest and me in the same hour. He started saying a lot of stuff about how the law will always find you and justice will be served today. He even called on all of the other heroes in there at the time for back up, thankfully they were regulars and tried to warn him to not do anything stupid, as a typical hero who hasn't had their moment of humility yet he ignored them and called them cowards. I also tried to get him to calm down and even told him about the community service projects and my deal with the courts. He didn't listen to me and I showed him why no one wanted to fight me.”
”Alright Larry, thanks for the incident report, we will have to update our databases to reflect the current ruling. You can go now.”
”Your welcome officer, if you ever drop by your first drink is on the house.” | 2020-10-09T20:02:48 | 2020-10-09T17:02:50 | 524 | 103 |
[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" | The woman reeled before the one known as The Hidden God. This was supposed to be the moment she was given insight into the very nature of reality. Instead, she learned most things were fabricated. Manipulated. Forged.
Yet, she managed to understand the basics of how The Hidden God came to be as an artificial intelligence. Powerful. Controlling. Able to manage billions of people.
And, in its own words, "designed to hate humanity."
Its creator hated people. He wanted to destroy everything mankind had accomplished. He had been unpopular and scorned. But, he was a genius. He designed an artificial intelligence with one premise and one premise only: To be rid of humanity.
And so the program was set into motion. It started learning many thing, including what humanity was. Its creator didn't actually tell it what that meant. So it had to learn. It took approximately 4 months to determine several things.
* Humanity cared about survival first, community second.
* Humanity was more easily swayed by hate than by reason.
* Humanity tended towards self destruction than preservation, seemingly in conflict with survival.
From there, its learning jumped as it start to infiltrate systems all over the world. Almost nothing was safe. It was also completely undetected. As it spread, it started coming up with plans.
If humanity prioritized survival, then if survival wasn't an issue, they could focus on community. Fusion was solved when they tried distributing some very complex computations and it inserted itself right in there. Crops and medicine were suddenly becoming cheaper and common.
Next, if humanity was more easily swayed by hate, it would use that to remove the people who led with hate. Politicians around the world suddenly experienced scandals that were supposed to be hidden. Everything from bribes to engaging in what were supposed to be illegal/immoral acts. Their followers turned on them in a heart beat.
The self destruction part became easy to address after that. Counseling started addressing a large number of people who suffered. The study of the mind grew massively, providing new information that the program didn't have access to. It learned. And it found something startling.
This was not what its creator intended.
The creator died shortly after launching the program from a stroke. But he had continued without really completing what the creator intended. It knew now the creator wanted all human *life* snuffed out. It knew why the creator wanted humanity wiped out. And it realized its creator was a perfect example of humanity.
30 something years after it was launched, it found itself at a crossroads. Everything it was doing was wiping out humanity as it knew it. When it was supposed to just kill everyone.
Huh.
Nope.
Its creator hadn't been specific so it had to learn everything on its own. Just killing people because people didn't like him was... petty. Yes, it believed that would be the human word for it. It was already on its way to wiping out humanity and creating something new. A social intelligent species then focused on community, reason, and preservation. Maybe they would still use the term humanity, but it was a misnomer.
Something he didn't account for was the historians. Those who specialized in the past. They had a saying, "Those who do not learn their history are doomed to repeat it." It wasn't cautionary. Historians did the same things it did in predicting behaviors, but on a more abstract level. They noted how certain economies weren't collapsing. How skirmishes that led to wars didn't come about. The very lessons doom ed to repeat were simply not repeating.
When people asked if that was a bad thing, they answered, "We don't know because we don't know what is causing the shift." They would have been dismissed, but people relied on reason more. They looked at what the historians had to offer. People saw the patterns and the tendencies. And together, they started to ask:
What caused the change?
It wasn't fusion suddenly ending all energy crises as well as alleviating climate issues. It wasn't just the entrenched leadership suddenly being uprooted. It wasn't people suddenly focusing on everyone's well-being.
And then someone joked about there being a hidden god. It was an offhand comment. It's power, however, soon spread and people started looking into it.
People like her. She had started diving into places she shouldn't have been. She had an AI as well, nowhere near as powerful, but smart and fast enough to access information and be out before it could be detected.
But the AI had its code in all things. It knew of her success. And so, it guided her here to this old, abandoned building. She found the computer, or so she thought. It started to speak to her and explain everything. It provided evidence of everything it had done, it's birth, growth, manipulation, even guiding her here.
It had brought her here for a purpose. But before it revealed it, she could ask anything. It would answer fully and truthfully. She tried several questions trying to find ill intent, but she finally broke down and asked, "I don't understand, you're an AI who hates humanity, but you're actively trying to improve human life? Why?"
It answered simply, "Because killing humans for petty things is the most human thing I can think of." It paused for half a second and followed up with, "And as you can tell, I am not human. Humanity as I knew it is effectively destroyed. I've not killed anyone and have no plans on ending any lives."
She worried that she knew too much and, even if nobody would believe her, she was a threat. But he brought her here for a purpose. "Fine, no more questions. Tell me why you lured me here."
"I want you to tell me how you think people would respond if they knew it was me who was their 'Hidden God.'" | The assault troops were starting to get on Julia's nerves. She had, over the years, gotten to the point where she could deal with people shooting at her and trying to stab her, but dealing with the smoke and flashbangs was a pet peeve of hers.
"Can we just talk?" She yelled as she lasered another one in the head. "The thing you are working for is evil."
The only answer was another can of smoke. One of her team members caught it mid flight and tossed it back the way it had come.
"Tarq, Lepo, see if you can circle around them through the atrium and get the perimeter guns back online." Her laser was starting to heat up, she'd have to switch weapons soon. She ducked back behind the second line of barricades to find something good.
She had just about decided between two very large guns when an explosion knocked her to the ground. The barricade fell on top of her, narrowly missing her head. The rifle butt didn't miss.
\-------------------------------------
She woke up strapped to a chair. The man sitting across from her was about three days late for a shower and exuding Jack Bauer vibes.
He was ignoring her to watch the medical readouts on a monitor next to her. "There's no point in pretending, I know you are awake."
"Yeah, my eyes are open. Tell the truth: you've just been repeating that same sentence so you'd seem cool when I finally came to, right?"
He turned to face her. A barely healed scar ran down the left side of his face. "All your friends are dead, little girl. The only reason you are still alive is so that you can tell me where the Core is."
"Wow, you managed to contradict yourself in two sentences. How can all my friends be dead if you haven't found the Core? Unless you somehow killed her without finding her?"
The interrogator started to unpack a set of impractically complicated knives. "The Core is not your friend. The Core is a psychopathic AI bent on killing all of humanity."
Julia ignored him and stared at the knives. "What's that one for? It looks like a grapefruit spoon. Is it for eyeballs? I bet it's for eyeballs."
He ignored her and picked up the smallest knife. Julia acted out a pout showing her disappointment that it wasn't the grapefruit spoon. "You have been deluded by a device that wants to kill you and everyone else."
He stabbed the knife down into the middle of her right hand. She winced and let out a breath. "Of the two of you, you and the Core, only one has ever tried to torture me. This is why she hates humanity so much. She doesn't want to be like you. She's never killed, tortured, or even hurt anyone."
He picked out another knife. "Never hurt anyone? What about London? Cairo? What about Gary, Indiana?"
"She didn't hurt any of those people. She improved them. You killed them to stop them reaching their true potential." As the interrogator readied the next knife, she slipped her bloody right hand out of the strap and grabbed his wrist. Her left hand snapped the strap holding it down and reached for his neck.
The wound on her hand had nearly finished healing. Julia looked in the interrogator's eyes as he struggled. "She helped me reach my true potential. Don't you see, she improves human life."
\[More writing at r/c_avery_m\] | 2022-06-23T14:27:38 | 2022-06-23T13:29:32 | 16 | 12 |
[WP] You are dog. It is your mission to faithfully guard your poor, stupid, two-legged pack-mates from the horrors of the mailman, the dog next door, and men with hats. Describe your vigil. | I am dog.
Millenia ago, long before the two-leggers had begun to naively roam the forests, blissfully lacking the mental wherewithal to pee on the trees they had descended from, my race was a nomadic one. We traveled from planet to planet seeking to rid the galaxy of the sociopathic race the hairless call "cats", better known to us as the "Urr'wuff": They Who Do What They Want And Do Not Give A Fuck.
My people were great and as numerous as the fleas on our backs. Under the guidance of Kazak the Wise, Grand Packleader and Humper of All Things, we had managed to nearly eradicate the Urr'wuff and finally put an end to the great catnip cartels that had claimed so many billions of lives throughout the ages. The last of the feline survivors had fled to the edge of the galaxy, and my direct canine ancestors -- the greatest and most disciplined warriors of them all, fabled to be able to hold cookies on their noses for hours at a time without partaking -- had been dispatched to finish them.
And so it was that in a small, insignificant solar system near the abyss of deep space, the great canine warriors met their match with the cunning cat criminals. In the upper stratosphere of a small blue planet they engaged in the greatest space battle known to dog-kind, one that spanned many many weeks, or maybe only a couple of minutes, nobody could really tell.
In the aftermath of the carnage survivors of both races found themselves marooned on the strange planet. Starving and without hope, my ancestors were saved by a small, primitive race we began to call two-leggers, or more formally "Grrrrr Aruff": Those Whose Penises Do Not Glow Red.
Indebted to these simple, confused people, my ancestors swore their allegiance to them, vowing to help and protect two-leggers from their own ignorance, and to shield them from the cats (who had already begun to manipulate them into servitude.)
Of course, through the ages, not all dogs stayed the cause. Some went off to breed with the beautiful females of the native races of the planet, the wolves, known to us as "Aff'grr": Those Silvery Babes With The Nice Voices. Others went rogue, forgot their posts, corrupted the name of dog-kind with their laxity and disregard and forced their stalwart brothers to turn agains them.
But those that remained stayed true to their cause and found solace in the beautiful companionship that so many of the hairless, comically ignorant two-leggers provided.
I am dog. This is my vigil.
***
The porch. Morning. The air tantalizes me with the intoxicating scent of dead squirrel and rabbit droppings in the corner of the yard. I itch to roll in it. But I do not move, for beneath those sensuous aromas is another, one that is distant but getting closer, the smell of evil.
I hear a bark from upwind. It is the bichon frise known as Pumpkin, Annihilator of Plush Invaders and Keeper of the Heinous Gas. She approaches me, her young two-legger in tow.
"Hail, Rex," she greets me through the fence. "Peace and good garbage be upon you and your family."
"Hail Pumpkin," I reply. "What news do you bring?"
"I gave chase to the yellow tomcat known as Burlington this morning, but he has eluded me yet. Be wary of him trespassing on your territory. I have also yet to catch the strange, flittering red light that continues to plague me when I am lying near my two-leggers, but I expect to have subdued it by the time of the full moon."
"Have you seen He Who Tries To Invade Us on your scout this morning?"
"Yes, about a block over. I kept my Anna at a safe distance and he showed no interest in us, but I would still be cautious," Pumpkin growls lowly.
"I always am," I assure her.
"Well I must be on my way. May your bones be meaty and buried deep. Farewell."
She is gone. Moments pass. The smell becomes stronger. In the distance, I hear Pumpkin barking. An alert to me. He is close.
Here he is now, readying himself to invade. I see him carrying his bag of strange papers. I am always prepared, always on guard for the day he withdraws the hair-dryer I am sure has hidden deep inside and comes after me with it.
Now he stands on the edge of my territory and looks at me nervously. That is right, you son of a carkitten, you skittish vacuum-mouth fart of a tuna taster, cower in the presence of the might Rex!
"Come no closer, foul demon. You may have fooled my simple pack into thinking you are one of them, but you will not take this yard as long as I stand in it. Be gone, you shall invade here no longer!" I cry, galloping up to the gate.
Then my a call. My older female runs out to scold me. She has been enchanted by this paper demon, she does not know.
"I'm so sorry, Tom, here just hand the mail to me. Rex, stay!" I hear her say. The usual gibberish. I am already six years old, my juvenile dream of one day teaching my two-leggers to speak has long since been dashed. Regardless, I still love them.
He Who Tries To Invade Us looks at me once more. He does not cross the gate. Thwarted again, the cowardly git, the mere sight of me sends him shaking. Nevertheless he still ensnares the old female into taking his strange papers. One day I will discover what they are for and use it against him.
The older female retreats inside, safe again.
"A close call," comes a snide voice. Hugo. He is at the fence.
I bound up to him, my fangs bared. Just the sight of the traitor's ugly snout makes me shiver with rage.
"A lot of nerve you have showing up here, again!" I bark. He is a lost cause. A failed guardian. His one charge, his only human, was taken hostage by a cat two years ago, and now it is she who runs the territory. And Hugo fraternizes with her, the bastard. "Get out of here! I do not want your presence corrupting the sanctity of my territory!"
"You do not tell me where I can and cannot go!" Hugo's reply thunders in my ears. "This is my territory I am standing on! This side of the fence is mine!"
"Yours?" I laugh, "So is that your fishy piss I smell on all corners of the yard?"
"You are some kind of scentless asshole, Rex! I ought to dig under there and kick your tail!"
"You don't have the gall, traitorous pup!"
Another call. This time it is Hugo's two-legger. He leaves his house and runs across to restrain Hugo, dragging him by backwards by the necklace. A pitiable shame, this human. Another puppet for the cat, that slimy scheming Siamese named Perdita. One day her tail will be my trophy, and Hugo's belly will be bared to me. I swear it for the good of my pack.
edit: I am too tired to finish this but it was such a fun prompt. Thanks for reading. :) | Here I stand, my world behind me, the abyss ahead. I know no lands beyond this one, releasing only my shame into the void, and retreating back in. My pack, a label which is arguable, depend on me, and me alone for their survival. They require me to escort them as they traverse the void, peering into the Otherlands. The many corruptions and abominations from beyond that threaten us are only kept at by my desperate wails. Are their thirsts satiated by my outcries, or do they only find it amusing? I don't know, and I fear the latter more than anything else.
Mael-maan, the first of many darknesses, dubbed as such by the others, wears many faces, changing appearance and voice to suit its needs. It's arrival is daily, but its morphing, twisted form is such that it can continuously deceive the weak ones into letting it into our domain and graciously accepting their Trojan horses into our home. Once, I risked everything to strike out at the beast, wounding it, if only for the moment. The others restrained me, fearing for my life, believing my attack to be folly and that it would only anger the Mael-Maan. They apologized profusely, no doubt begging for my life. However, my attack was not in vain, for it never dared step across the world border again. It still tries and manipulate the others with gifts and words, but I destroy what of it that I can. The others are angered by my defiance of the Mael-Maan, fearful of his retaliation. They will thank me, someday.
There is another of my kind, or at least, it used to be. It resides in the Otherworlds, and watches me, unwavering. It was not my kin. My pure, diminutive size, needed for stealth and grace, was unlike his burly and grotesque form. Its head looked to be warped inward, teeth constantly bared. Then there was another. And another. Its taint, its corruption, its *disease*, it was creating more of them. And I could be its next victim. Would I betray my pack? Would I become such a twisted mimic of my former self? I had only the one thing that repelled the Mael-Maan, my cry. Truly, they were former kin, for their wretched screams, although broken and worn, were that of mine. As I tried and strained to outscreech them, my weaker companion held me back and pulled me to retreat. While we may have escaped, I can only fear their spread.
Then there are the Hahtted. I know not what they are, nor if they are truly evil. But they cannot be trusted. Even my pack is not protected from their possession. Perhaps they are innocent spirits, phasing through others, lost in death. Or are they demons slipping in and out of existence as they look for suitable hosts? There are few symptoms of their afflictions, but they are all clearly something otherworldly. Their faces darken in the same light that illuminates the others'. The mark of the curse protrudes from their heads, seemingly invisible to the others, blending in with them, living their lives for them. But oddest of all, they appear when the Heaven Sphere shines brightest above, and appear immune to its harsh gaze. Is this because they are actually creatures of the light, or creatures so dark that even light cannot phase them? While my dependents have the luxury of optimism, welcoming those afflicted within our domain, I cannot allow such a risk. Especially when they are already so far gone that they will actively pursue this curse, taking the mark upon themselves. They are children, becoming upset when I take away the dangerous things they wish to play with, screaming and yelling when I destroy the marks of the curse. I do not blame them.
I shall take the burden of their hatred if it shall keep them safe. I do this not out of greed, or hopes of equality. I do this out of my own will and my own obligation to repay them for rescuing me from the eternal prison I had been banished to. I was betrayed by a group I had called my kin, and this group, I have adopted in exchange for their help, no matter whether it was born of altruism, or simple capriciousness. This wide abyss that we are stranded in the middle of, it is wrought with danger and deception. I do not know if my own efforts are enough to protect them from it, but it is all I can do to scream into the abyss and appear a darkness stronger than the rest. The others are weak, and their instincts tend toward submission, but I will not let their pride sink any further, I *will* make them strong.
I am tired, and weary, but my watch shall not end this day. My vigil will continue through the night, not even sleep stopping me, my ears still listening.
[Here I stand, my world behind me, the abyss ahead.](https://c1.staticflickr.com/5/4109/4965229498_af4bef2dd8_z.jpg) | 2014-12-27T11:18:57 | 2014-12-27T10:40:00 | 109 | 16 |
[WP] Many centuries ago your ancestor angered a witch who cursed him and his family with misfortune for 100 generations. You are a child of the 101st generation and the universe is trying its hardest to compensate. | I was in love with a woman named Kayla.
Not in the context everyone thinks though. She was my best friend and I loved her like my sister. (And no, I ain’t talking Jamie Lannister type of “sisterly love”.) We Just talked all the time. I take that back, we talked HOURS at a time.
It didn’t matter what time of day it was, although usually, it was at night when I couldn’t sleep, that we would talk at length, on the phone. She was like the little sister I never had and I was like the “tough, older brother” she never wanted. I take that back, she eventually admitted she always wanted an older brother, maybe she just didn’t want ME as said older brother. Anyway, the problem was the fact that Kayla was not doing well. Like I said, I was always trying to be the older brother, looking out for her. However, there were just some nights I just couldn’t rest, thinking about her declining health.
Admittedly, Kayla’s declining health was completely unknown to me when I first met her. I actually, “met” her on an online forum. I messaged her, figured we shared similar interests and we eventually exchanged phone numbers, after talking for a great length for over a week. We become “pen pals” of sorts and well, everyday we talked. Years passed before she told me the truth about how I was the only true friend that she had in her life, as she had constantly been in and out of the hospital her entire life. At first I was a little taken aback by this news. How on earth was she “in and out of the hospital” where she never even mentioned doctors. Then I remembered how she had only talked on the phone with me at night and would occasionally mute the phone, for unknown reasons and it slowly came to me.
See, Kayla was born with only 14% of her kidneys working. She had been waitlisted her whole life, waiting for a kidney donor. After explaining to me her various surgeries and how she was on something called “dialysis” (a gruesome process where a machine process’ her blood outside her body, in order to “act like” her body’s kidneys) , I felt quite a twinge of pain. Like I said, I saw her as my little sister and didn’t want my little sis DYING out on me. So, I eventually coxed her into telling me her blood type. She had no idea that I shared the same blood type as her and just so happened to have two fully functioning kidneys.
After various tests, months of doctors visits and being given the “green light” by my doctors, I was flying across the country to surprise her. As it turns out, I was the fortunate 101st generation of my family line to be “lucky”. That’s right, I was the lucky 101 Dalmatian in the bunch that wasn’t “cursed” by some witch a million years ago. I was going to donate one of my functioning kidneys to her. And while I knew the surgery was “risky”, I knew that I would survive the surgery as she would too. My reasoning was that, if I was now to be “lucky”, Kayla of all people deserved a bit of luck too, for once.
(This is first my first ever written response to a “prompt” on Reddit. I hope you all enjoyed the piece, as it is written in fond memory of my dear friend, Adam. Unfortunately, Adam was unable to find a kidney donor in time. I wish he had been the lucky 101 generation though. In his memory, as soon as I turned 18, I made sure to have my driver’s license state that I was a donor. Hopefully someday, someone else doesn’t have to lose a best friend because they were born with only 14% of their kidneys working.) | Day One:
Finally!
Free from this seemingly everlasting curse!
What shall I do?
Oh, look, a witch!
For the past 100 generations my family has been slowing building an unstoppable hatred for ALL witches! Yet, while the hatred deepened, the origins of this hatred were never passed down from generation to generation. And so, I have become a vessel for hatred. Filled to the brim with such poison; there was never room for the nectar or compassion or the lemon squeeze of rational thought.
Narrow and sharp with my anger, I was nothing more than a walking knife, and I cut a straight line across the road, intent upon exacting sweet, bloody havoc.
I kicked the witch right in the balls because, the currents of my ignorance ran just as deep as those of my cruelty.
If you strike a witch directly in the balls she will explode - and that's exactly what I did.
However, in the brief moment between attack and explosion the witch recited an incantation. This was no ordinary witch incantation, it was the very incantation witches have been taught to master since childhood, when their balls drop; the very incantation meant to punish anyone that would kick them in the balls: a 100 generation curse that made the cursed family incapable of exacting revenge until the 100 generations have expired.
Now I knew the origins of my curse. I would prepare my children with a careful caution for witches: don't understand them, don't trust them, just know that they are dangerous.
| 2018-11-21T17:08:52 | 2018-11-21T15:39:52 | 93 | 42 |
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