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[WP] You are an NPC. One day, you see the player character do some weird steps and duplicate his items. You decide to try it for yourself.
Have fun!
Edit: Huh. I guess I just discovered a karma duplication glitch. | You are townsfolk #362, and you do the same thing you do every day and night, guard the gate to the city. You have been doing this for as long as you can remember, which is why you try to avoid thinking about it, you can’t remember anything from before you started this job. The only way someone can get through the gate is by giving you 32 cheese wheels one time. You don’t know why you want 32 cheese wheels, but you assume it’s because you like cheese. One day, a new townsfolk you have never seen before walks up. He tries to walk past you to follow the path to another city.
“Hold up there! What is thy name?” You call out.
He remains silent for a few seconds, almost as if he’s trying to come up with a new name. Suddenly you hear a response, but you are unsure if he actually spoke or not.
You speak again, “I’m sorry, but you cannot leave the town at this time. If you want passage, I require some items.”
He walks up to you, and you give him a piece of parchment with the number 32 and a picture of a cheese wheel on it. He tries giving you the cheese wheels he has, but you can’t accept it yet.
“I’m sorry, it looks like-“
You were interrupted while speaking, because he ran past you to the gate, threw the cheese wheels straight up, and continued running into the gate. He then talks to you again, and you are astonished! He had twice the number of cheese wheels as he had before! But it still wasn’t enough.
Unsure of what to say about the feat you just saw, you decide to pretend it didn’t happen. “I’m sorry, it looks like-“
You were interrupted again! And he did the same thing again. You watch a bit more carefully this time and see exactly everything he’s doing. This time, he ends up with more cheese wheels than you asked for. You take the cheese wheels and inspect them closely. They are all identical to each other, but you concluded that they were all in fact cheese. You grant this man passage through the gate.
You are curious now, and something feels different. You’ve never felt this way before. You do something that you have never done before, and you turn around to face the gate without anyone else there. You walk up to the gate, and try the same moves that he did. It didn’t work for you, so you try a couple more times. You recall everything that the man did. Both times he spoke to you and interrupted you before running at the gate. You say the same thing that you said to him, but this time to yourself. As you say “I’m sorry, it looks like-,” you run up to the gate and throw your cheese wheels straight up. You do the same moves he did, and when you picked your cheese wheels up again, they had doubled!
Suddenly, you are aware of everything around you. You notice that the other townsfolk are doing the same patterns over and over again. You move away from the gate and walk to townsfolk #347, the blacksmith. You try talking to him, but #347 only wanted to know what weapons and armor you wanted repaired! No matter what you ask, like how hot the fire is, or who was the man that you met at he gate was, or if #347 wanted some cheese, he would always respond the same!
You slowly realize that for a while now, you’ve been referring to yourself in the second person, and become aware that it may have not come from my own head. I looked around, now free from whatever curse was binding me, holding me as a slave at the gate. I looked around, and eventually upwards, and the clouds seemed to stop moving. When I looked around, everything was stopping, the embers from #347’s fire were suspended in mid air. I walked up to #347, and I give him a poke, and everything fell apart as if the sky was crashing down. Everything went dark around me.
You wake up. You are townsfolk #362, and you do the same thing you do every day and night, guard the gate to the city. You have been doing this for as long as you can remember. | Today is like every other day. Griswald is standing in front of his shop, waiting for adventurers to emerge from the church so he can repair their equipment.
"Ka-ching"
Huh. Some adventurer just dropped a whole stack of gold coin on the floor. Being an npc, he has no need for gold, and his father taught him well. He immediately called to the adventurer.
"Dude, you've dropped your coin!"
The adventurer paid him no heed. But after he walked a few steps away from the coin, the adventurer turned around, seemly showing interested at the coin again.
Griswold thought to himself "Pff. Trying to act cool eh? Just pick those damped gold up and pay me so I can show you some wares!"
What he saw next, has forever changed Griswald's coded life. The adventurer touched one of his potion on his belt, and run toward the stack of gold on the ground. Just before he scoop the gold up, he did something not even a full dex level 35 rogue can do. Griswold saw it perfectly though. The adventurer pull out his potion right before his finger touched the gold, and "Ka-ching"! Now he has 2 handfuls of gold!
What the hell??
This doesn't even make sense!
Shit! Don't come to my shop! Don't come to my shop! I don't want no counterfeit money!
Oh nice! He's going toward Wirt. Phew.let's hope that our world will not get wipe by Blizzard again. I just made a awfully nice sword. Damned kid with their damped cheat!
Fin
* first time submitting a WP. Doesn't have experience in writing story, and I have bad grammar/vocab. Hope I didn't violate any rules. Just wanted to share something that reminds me of a game I love back in the days :) | 2018-01-03T09:05:42 | 2018-01-03T08:34:41 | 273 | 30 |
[WP] You wake up in a house. It's nice place, with all the comforts of home. However, the front door is cold steel, with a note on it. The note warns you never to leave the house. After years of compliance, you decide to go through the steel door... | She stood in front of the door, arms crossed, tapping her fingers impatiently. At the tender age of sixteen, she was experiencing a rather heavy bout of teenage rebellion. The television programs that played on the flatscreen in living room reminded her it was just a phase. The restless feeling would pass, and that one day soon she would be released from the program- whatever that meant. "Be sure to read your training materials!" The squat lady on the screen would chirp at her. "And perform your calisthenics twice a day to stay in tip top shape!"
When she was placed here, she was a capable ten year old who was light years ahead of her peers in school. She followed a strict scheduled, awake at 0500 and in bed by 2100. She studied diligently and made sure to exercise in the fully furnished gym in the basement. In her free time she had books, television, even a communications if she was wanted to talk to someone at the command post. She had stopped trying to make contact ages ago. They never gave her straight answers anyway.
She brushed a stray strand of blonde hair from her face and squinted at the door. It was locked; she tried opening it. She couldn't pick it; she had tried that as well. She had tried breaking windows, searching for hidden exits, and at one point she had crawled into the air vents to see if they would lead her anywhere- the result was a dusty and torn up uniform and peaking frustration.
In her search, she had found an axe, located under the kitchen sink of all places- as if it had been left there on purpose. She picked up and tested the weight of it. Solid oak handle but she couldn't place what the blade was made from. Upon closer inspection, she realize it wasn't made from steel or iron, but rather something much stronger. "Perhaps from tungsten carbide, or maybe-" She stopped herself before she could finish her analysis. It was stronger than the door, and that's all that she needed to know at the present moment.
She took a breath, steeled herself, and swung at the door handle. Part of chipped off and fell to the floor. "YES!" She kept swinging and hacking away at the door. It took time. By the time she could see light leaking through the door, her hair was plastered to her forehead and she was out of breath- but she was so damn close to freedom, she couldn't stop. Finally the door gave and swung open, and she stumbled over the threshold. She looked around wildly, unprepared for what she found.
She was in a open hanger, with identical houses all settled neatly in rows. People in military uniforms milled around, none of them paying her any attention, too preoccupied in their duties. She stood frozen in place for a long moment, unsure of what her next move was.
"Right on time, Corporal." A tall man with dark skin and a crisply pressed dress uniform greeted her. The insignia on his uniform made it clear he was an officer. She saluted in a knee jerk reaction. All those years of reading training manuals had finally proved useful. She stood taller, prouder. She had figured it out. She was going to get answers. "Time for your next phase of training." The Officer gave her an appraising look. "Follow me." | I had no idea how long I had been in the house, I lost all concept of time in that place. I had everything I could ever ask for, but the curiosity was just too much to bear. I couldn't draw my eyes away from the large metal door. I rose to my feet and precariously stepped toward the door, I peeled off the note that explicitly stated "DO NOT ENTER". The knob wasn't hard to turn. The door was metal, but impossibly light. As it creaked open I could feel intense heat emanating from the other side. Suddenly a towering, glowing being appeared behind me, his voice boomed "I gave you life, I welcomed you into my kingdom of heaven, and gave you anything you could ever ask for. All I wanted in return was for you to OBEY me". He then cast me out the door, into a land of fire and brimstone. I could feel only pain and suffering. The only concept of time I had was eternity. | 2015-03-21T11:13:06 | 2015-03-21T10:32:35 | 23 | 14 |
[WP]: Your mother was a scammer of the supernatural. She promised her firstborn to multiple entities in exchange for something she wanted, and now you're being co-parented by three demons, the fae, and a disgruntled witch. | Mrs. Hawkins tapped her pen irritably on her desk. It was almost 30 minutes past the end of school and she was supposed to have a parent teacher conference regarding the young boy across from her.
Finn sat at his desk, head down, his tiny feet not reaching the ground. For a quiet child, he was one of Mrs. Hawkins more difficult students. He had a habit of making deals with the other children, in fact that was his preferred method of social interaction. Though seemingly harmless, if a student broke the deal they would be beset by misfortune.
For example; one day Finn exchanged his swing time at recess for Timothy Johnston’s pudding cup at lunch. After Timmy refused to give the pudding cup he was stuck with a fit of hiccuping that prevented him from eating and forced him to spend the rest of lunch in the nurse’s office. When Abigale Westwood broke her deal to give Finn two of her stickers in exchange for the yellow crayon, her skin rapidly turned a color of bright canary yellow.
There were many more incidents like these and while they all had the common trait of involving Finn and a deal, none of the unfortunate events could be fairly pinned on Finn. There was no way he could have logically cause Timmy’s hiccuping or Abigail’s change in skin hue.
There were also several odd interactions between Finn and the staff. The strangest was the day a recess monitor stopped him from coming back into the building because he was covered in dirt and his pockets were full of plant roots. When asked why, he said that they were for a potion and threw a tantrum when they were thrown away. Not to mention the fact that no one had ever seen Finn’s parents. He would just appear every day at the start of school and disappear when the bell rang to excuse the students. Anytime a school office employee called the number listed in Finn’s files as his home phone they would forget the details of who they spoke with and move onto another task almost immediately. Most only recalling that they even called when asked by another member of the staff.
The final straw for Mrs. Hawkins was the class project given last week. The students were instructed to draw a picture of them and their family. Finn’s picture included a tiny boy surrounded by three creatures with horns, one with butterfly wings and one that was clearly a Halloween caricature of a witch. Mrs. Hawkins reprimanded Finn and told him to draw his actual family. When he produced an almost identical drawing, she put him on timeout and requested the office call his home and set up the parent teacher conference. Unsurprisingly, the office couldn’t say who they spoke to, but could confirm that whoever answered the phone committed to being at the appointment.
Just when Mrs. Hawkins was getting ready to phone the school office to have them call Finn’s home again, the door to the class room swung open. She stared in surprise as 5 figures entered the room. The first was a woman with skin as green as grass, wearing all black and carrying what was unmistakably a broom. The second was a regal looking man with sharp features and pointed ears, who seemed to emit his own minor glow. Finally there were three hulking figures who had to duck down to pass through the door, and were wearing sun hats that did a very poor job of hiding the horns that protruded from their heads.
They sat down in the chairs Mrs. Hawkins had placed in front of her desk (though three of them had to grab additional chairs as she only placed two). The five looked at Mrs. Hawkins, who was unable to find her voice. After an uncomfortable silence one of the large horned creatures spoke, his voice a deep, gravely bass.
“So what exactly did you want to talk about Mrs. Hawkins?” He said. | “Good grief!” Angelica cried, her voice full of despair. That child was more difficult than any spell she had ever mastered. Arrie, the infant in question, was bawling her eyes out in the corner. All of the sudden, she shrieked, “I LOVE MAMA LILLIE MORE! I WANT MAMA LILLIE!” These awful words broke Angelica. As a daemon raised by her brothers, she could only do so much when it came to toddlers’ needs. She had no idea that they became this unnecessarily violent over a missing blanket!
“Oh sweetheart, you don’t mean that!” She choked between sobs. Even if she found it difficult raising Arrie, she and her brothers loved the child more than the world. The time that they shared together, those beautiful Tuesdays and Thursdays were filled with more magic than the blood in her veins. That spiteful witch Lillie was one of the two things preventing her from more time with her precious child. Out of the corner of her tear-filled eye, she spotted a grey, silky patch of material creeping out of the knitting basket that was retired to underneath the herb shelf. “My little one,” she poke softly to the child. “I think I might know where your blankie is...” | 2019-07-18T07:41:11 | 2019-07-18T07:16:27 | 273 | 89 |
[WP] In a Supernatural society, everyone is born bearing a name such as “The One Who Dances.” or “The One Who Flies.” This gives people an unnaturally strong ability in their named field. Your name, however, is simply “The One.” | It's just another day.
​
Another time where I'll wake up, have no idea what I am, spend the day, and go back to sleep before repeating the process... I'm used to it. I'm just "The One". Which basically means I'm no one.
​
As I prepare for school, I get reminded, as usual, how my mother is "The One Who Cooks". These pancakes were a treat. How my father is "the One Who Drives". Anyone not familiar with him would think they'll die at least twice during the 20 minutes ride leading to school, but no matter how brutal dad's driving seems, his mastery of the car is always flawless.
​
Another normal morning at school. It ends before I notice. The afternoon comes. For them. Not me.
​
As any afternoon classes, everyone go to their speciality classes. They'll learn, develop and optimize their "talent". The one everybody get. Almost. I don't have one so I get free time. I might call myself The Free One. That would sound better.
​
But free time isn't such a gain. What do I do with it ? The talent is basically one's life, one's identity. You earn it immediately. As soon as you're born, words appear on your back. Your title. "The One who..." Something you're bound to be stupidly gifted in. I never asked my parents how they felt when they saw my title being just "The One". The subject is quite hard to talk about at home. Everyone's worried. Naturally.
​
People's hobbies. Their carriers. What they enjoy. All of that is determined through their title. They get a defined role, something they'll be good at, and enjoy naturally. It's the base of happiness. So what of me ? I've no title, no future, no interest. I'm just... left there. No one knows how to handle my situation. And since I'm still the sole known case of such phenomenon, there's no such effort to find a solution.
​
I guess I'll manage, get a little job, live my life day by day. But I'll never experience that passion everyone has.
​
As I get home, my mom asks suddenly for help. It was quite a shock. A first time in my 17 years of life, that "The One Who Cooks" needed help at cooking. Turns out she accepted a really huge food order from a friend, with a highly tight deadline. So she needs hands. I gladly accept, I've not much to do anyway.
​
We're done, evening is past, I'm in my bed, wondering. Cooking with my mom. Even though it was just following her instructions. I... enjoyed it. I'm not good at it, but it was still fun to do. Next day, I went to my dad, and asked him if he would learn me how to drive. He accepted, and we went on a ride, on a road with very little trafic where he tries his new car tricks. It was a blast.
​
I might not have a gift, like anyone else. But still, I can enjoy things, even if I'm terrible at them. I suddenlty think of all the things I never tried because I knew I couldn't be good at it. All night, not finding a way to sleep. New ideas of what to do assault my mind. An amount that gifted people would never think of. They were born with a special talent, of course they want to make it flourish, and have their eyes set on ways to do so.
But by having nothing, I can do anything.
​
Sleep seems to be finally coming, my eyes are suddenly really heavy. Before losing consciousness, a last thought comes into my mind.
​
The Free One. It really does sound better. | I can remember the day as clear as anything. There I was sitting around my other crib mates, all waiting to get our name chosen.
“Preston Vantelie!” The speaker barked.
I didn’t know Preston that well, he was very tall for his age and everyone thought he was older than ten, but now he walks to the chooser to get his name.
Preston sits down on a stool, and the chooser approaches him, “The one who cures.”
I was shocked because that seems very specific to medicine, and that boy has the motor functions of a slug with it’s hands cut off, but whatever the chooser says.
“Valory Gimfoil!”
I hardly knew her as well, but she showed from an early age an aptitude to cook. Now her slender build is standing and walking up to the chooser to be named.
“She who leads”
That title is well known. It’s said that almost 1000 of our societies’ commodores had that title. Obviously there is some murmur and admiration in the crowd after wards but everyone settles down.
“Julian Anthrope!”
That’s me. I wipe my sweaty palms on my robe and get up to go to the stool. Along the way my gaze comes over some of my other crib mates, until I arrive in front of the chooser.
He signals for me to sit down and then stares right into me.
It feels like forever, and that’s because it was. Quickly disbelief covers his face, and he keeps staring murmuring something under his breathe, “No, it can’t be, not for almost a 1000 years.”
He gulps, pauses, and turns to announce,”The, The One.” | 2018-12-21T13:46:04 | 2018-12-21T12:07:49 | 177 | 31 |
[WP]Arthur C. Clarke said that "Two possibilities exist: either we are alone in the universe or we are not. Both are equally terrifying." What he didn't know is that there is a third possibility... | Try as he might, Wilford Gollin could simply not go to sleep. It was quite late, but he couldn't put down the new book he had been reading. First in a series, it detailed a crazy, quirky fantasy world that all took place in outer space. It was such a strange concept, but addictive to read about.
The door creaked open. "Willford?" Willford's dad poked his head in.
"Uh, sorry Dad. I'll go to sleep." Willford slowly reached for the lamp, not taking his eyes off the book.
"Actually, I thought we could talk about something." The door opened further, and his father walked in, followed by his mother. Now they had Willford's attention. His parents never came into his room together.
"Uh, yeah, what's up?" Willford marked his page and finally looked up at his parents.
"Well, son..." his mother said with a small smile. "I thought it was time we had 'the talk'." His dad nodded meaningfully, rubbing his third eye.
Willford felt his face flush. "I'm not a little kid, I know about that stuff."
"Not that talk," his father quickly cut in. "We mean the human talk."
"Human talk?" Willford was completely confused now.
"We noticed you've been reading those human books lately," his mother said. "What are they about?"
"They're just fantasy. About a world in outer space that's kinda like ours, but also kinda different."
"Just fantasy, huh?" Willford's dad gave him a look. "What do you mean, fantasy?"
"Made up," Willford said. "Like wizards and politicians, none of it's real and that's why it's fun to read. They have all these crazy things- zoos and microwaves, just bizarre."
"Well, Willford," his dad said heavily. "Those things aren't exactly made up."
"What are they then?"
"This is kind of hard to explain, so bear with me. Basically, humans were an experiment. The top scientists on our planet came together and randomly assembled data to create simulated beings that were sort of similar to us, but not quite. They gave them free will, a few character traits, and a very dulled ability to feel emotion. Then they stuck them in a giant, heavily controlled environment to see what happened with no intervention."
"It was a study on how society would work if left to its own devices," his mother explained. "Since everything here is the opposite of that, they wanted data on how it would all play out."
"And they created their own world," his father continued. "With politics and microwaves and everything that makes that book seem like fantasy. They created their own world."
Willford leaped to his feet. "So humans are real?!"
"Humans were never real," Willford's mom said gently. "They're still simulated bodies with a fraction of what goes on in our minds, all created for our own science."
Willford sat down slowly, absorbing it all. "That's crazy." There was a moment of comfortable silence. "Wait! If humans created all these awesome things without help, why doesn't the government leave us to our own devices and see what we come up with? If these fake people can build cities and empires, just imagine what we could do!"
"The human world is not all good," said his father. "You see, when uncontrolled and wild, humans also created poverty, and war, and debt. Many of their people lived in misery until the experiment was finally terminated and the data released. That's when those books were written."
"The data just confirmed the government was right to keep us under such close tabs," his mother furthered, waving one of her six arms at a camera watching them through the nearby window. "Imagine what terrors we could create!"
"Every kid goes through a human phase." Willford's dad smiled. "So the government just wanted us to have this little talk with you, to keep curiosity at bay."
"Any other questions, you know where to find us." Willford's parents rose and carefully made their way out of the room.
Willford lay back down, head spinning. Five minutes ago he thought humans were not even real, then he found out they were real, but not really. And all those things they had created!
I could create too, he thought to himself. If I was a human, I could make so much.
Then he glanced out at the security camera blinking at him. Willford shrugged, picked up his book, and buried himself in the bizarre experiment called humans. | After about a century of deep space exploration that resulted in exactly zero evidence of alien life, mankind decided once and for all to settle the matter of Clarke's Conundrum.
Plus, they were all very tired of being terrified. And yet, the more they found no signs of extraterrestrial life, the more terrified they became.
Trillions of self-replicating lab bots were despatched to every corner of the galaxy. As tech improved on earth, trillions more were sent out. Every rock on every asteroid would have to be lifted. Every tiny crack on the floor of every icy ocean would have to be minutely examined. The task was promethean in its gargantuity but humanity's terror was growing with every barren result: it was fight or flight. They chose to fight.
After about a thousand centuries and with more than half the terrifyingly lifeless universe surveyed, human scientists discovered the principles of time travel. Finally, they thought, not only have we the present means to discover if we are alone or not, we can also ultimately determine if we were always alone or will forever be.
With renewed enthusiasm, humanity t-shifted countless neutrinic lab bots to the moment of origin. Every sub particle emanating from that colossal source would have to be tracked and evaluated.
Having eventually surveyed the known universe, humanity anxiously waited on the results of its t-experiment. Which proved to be negative.
But humans weren't ready to give into their terror. Wait, they said, we can't be sure we haven't affected it in some way. We must run it again! And so they did. Again and again. Until the universe grew old and thin.
Even entropic heat death proved no barrier, as simulcraic universes were created to run ever more complex t-studies of t-studies of t-studies of every branching universe.
Until...
Mankind came to understand the nature of its sisyphean quest and that Clarke's Conundrum wasn't binary at all, but trinary. It would have to be re-written:
Three possibilities exist: we are alone in the universe or we are not or we will never know which. | 2016-05-25T12:18:45 | 2016-05-25T11:04:46 | 20 | 10 |
[WP] Long story short they’re not pressing charges but we’re no longer allowed on earth . | "So, what are they going to do? Destroy earth? Enslave us?" the UN chairman asked the group.
Two weeks ago, the spaceship appeared in our solar system. First contact was imminent. It was a single unarmed passenger ship containing representatives. They chose to land in Texas and asked for our ambassadors. We were relieved they didn't choose violence. Judging their tech we wouldn't stand a chance to win the war. Today, after over a week of negotiations, the ambassadors came to speak in front of the UN.
"There has been a hearing. We are charged with violating a contract."
"Violating a contract? Have they been here before?"
"Apparently, a king with the name 'Djoser' signed this contract, almost 5 millennia ago!" The ambassador held up an image. It was a stone slate with hieroglyphics on it. "They earned the protection of the galactic council and some knowledge which, as scientists assume, definitely pushed humanity forwards. But our modern society broke the terms. And, carefully worded, they are not very happy about this."
A wave of murmuration swept through the room. "What does the contract provide for in this case?" somebody called out.
"Destruction of our unworthy species."
*Silence*
*Total silent silence*
"We could go on an intergalactic trial, but we have thoroughly analyzed the contract together with some of the best lawyers and we all feel like it is not going to be any help." one of the ambassadors continued. "And as you have probably guessed, fighting back is no alternative either. But they told us an option to get out of this."
The room stayed quiet enough to hear traffic outside of the rather soundproof room.
"We have the option to go into exile and move to a different planet than earth. The contract is bound to our planet and without a dominating species, the charges would be void. But all of the habitable planets have life, so finding a new home is difficult. Settling on a habitable planet without permission of the local dominant lifeform is a crime. If there is no intelligent life, it is straight-up prohibited. They are giving us four weeks to report our decision to the intergalactic council. After this, we have a one-year grace period before our destruction. They want to stay in contact and assured assistance in communications and organization, but won't give us ships, technology or guidance."
"So, where do they expect us to go?" Again, somebody called out without proper protocol, the chairman already visibly annoyed.
"They suggested living as a homeless species in space until there is an opportunity to settle."
A loud discussion broke out as all of the representatives turned to their neighbors. The room fell into chaos.
"QUIET" the chairman blared, before returning to his normal tone.
"Nobody asked the most important question yet, what are we even charged with?"
"Premeditated atmospheric manipulation, premeditated planet poisoning, premeditated genocide on other species, to state the main charges. Basically, they want to save our planet from us, as sad as it sounds."
Somebody in the back requested to speak. "Have they noticed our efforts to mitigate these points?"
"I am not entirely sure, " the ambassador responded, "we could communicate this in the next meeting. But I doubt this will make a difference."
Another speech request "What if we oath to fix this as good as possible? Maybe there is a way for a settlement?"
"I highly doubt any oaths are enough." another ambassador continued. "They want to see action. NOW. Maybe, if we please them, they will give us more time. But in the end, we don't just have to stop damaging, we have to UNDO our damage eventually. However, the more I think about it, this might actually be a solution. To me, it does not seem like they truly want to eliminate ours. They highly respect intelligent life, but also habitable planets."
"But this will return us back to stone age!" somebody interrupted once again.
"No settlement will return us into nothingness, we estimated that in a year we could permanently safe at most 2000 humans onto several arks."
*Silence*
"Alright, " the chairman proclaimed, any more suggestions? As nobody requested to speak, he continued. "Alright, then I am putting this to the vote: Should we propose a settlement with us undoing all our damage to our best efforts?" Nobody opposed, although there were quite some abstentions.
"Good. I am sending you back into negotiation. Try to get the best out of it. The entire planet is counting on you. There will be no detailed press statement, I will announce that we are still in negotiations. Do not leak anything." With these words, the meeting was closed.
\----
One week later, the next meeting was held.
"I have good and bad news." the ambassador spoke. "The good news is, they have generally agreed on the settlement, exact terms still in negotiation. We shall be spared from elimination, given we manage to clear the charges on our own. The bad news is, that they basically expect us to stop us polluting and poisoning yesterday. Even if can get a few years of transition to prevent our society from collapsing, this will be harsh."
"We looked for more alternatives and also asked them if they saw any. But no. We have to choose either death or extremely strict measures today. And whatever we choose, everybody will hate us for it." | “Good news, we’re not being charged for anything.” Though Grace grinned, she could not keep her eyes from twitching under pressure.
“We’re not being charged?” Noah let out of wave of air from his chest. All the tension in his muscles suddenly fled as his body fell into the couch. The soft cushion nearly devoured him whole, though his wide smile welcomed such an embrace. “I thought we were goners.”
Grace scratched the bottom of her chin. Her head flipped, choosing to stare at the blank white wall rather than see his face. “As for the bad news,”
Just as a nap pulled Noah’s eyes shut, they shot back open with violence. “Bad news? What do you mean, bad news?”
“Well, you see.” She could only turn back towards him so far before fleeing from his gaze once again. “We’re not allowed on Earth anymore.” Those words would be the last heard for the next half a minute, the stressful buzzes of a running mind left no room for conversation.
“This was a terrible idea.” Muffled sounds broke the silence as Noah fell further into the pit of bitter-sweet coziness.
“Ah, this planet is full of a bunch of boring boomers anyways! They can’t tell fun from frustration.” Grace let herself fall besides Noah, resting both arms atop of her head. “Give them the world’s greatest firework show, and they throw you out. It’s not like we hurt anybody.”
“Birds” strangled sounds hinted that he spoke more, but only one word could be deciphered.
“Just a bit unlucky for them.” She raised herself up and bumped the little of his arm still unburied with her elbow. “Come on, we’ll be fine! I hear Mars is a pretty party-filled planet. They won’t mind us.”
Noah’s back flew forward. He locked an accusatory glare onto her. His eyes tried to pierce her, but had to fight oncoming tears, like a fire fighting the rain. “Can’t you take this seriously! We’ve lived here our entire lives, and now we have to go!” That fire began to lose. “We might not even have time to say goodbye.”
Grace opened her mouth, but when no retort came out, her eyes fled in defeat. “I’m sorry.”
Noah let out a sigh. “It’s fine. I’m sorry as well. I don’t want this argument to be our last memory of Earth.”
Suddenly, Grace flew up from the couch with a leap. “It won’t be, because we’ll be back.”
Noah could only stare in awe, mind running in every direction.
“So come on, we got a little vacation on our hands.” | 2022-05-13T14:42:48 | 2022-05-13T13:06:58 | 23 | 14 |
[WP] Ever since the discovery of FTL-travel, the history of the galaxy has been unfolded to a horrifying truth; everything is dead and has been dead for millions of years. | Artemis Finn had been running exploration for centuries. The advent of the neural net - complex nano-machinery that enhanced the mind in drastic fashion - and the advances in cloning technology meant that even without FTL travel, humans had the means to live indefinitely and this explore the universe. His old ship had been one of the generation 2's, repurposed to facilitate more efficient exploration and more thorough documentation, along with several layers of redundancy for all data storage. Dying the real death out in the black because of some rogue rocks or bizarre EM wave wasn't something on his to do list.
When the crew made it back to the core, about 3 years back, they were surprised to find that FTL had been discovered. He was sure the science officer, Gunn, understood the mechanics, but that wasn't his job. Humanity's shipyards had been churning out the next generation of ships in order to take advantage of the new technology. They were, of course, prohibitively expensive - for the most part, only some of the larger governments and corporations had the means to procure the new models so early in their development. Finn and his crew, however, had not only discovered 3 habitable planets, but something unique in human history; ruins left behind by another species. Proof that, however scarce, intelligent life had existed in the cosmos that hadn't originated on old Earth. As such, he had means to afford a grotesque purchase.
The area of the galaxy where the crew had previously discovered proof of alien life, however ancient, had predictably been swarmed by explorers since. It had been about 120 years since then, and data was coming back indicating that if that ancient race had taken to the stars, they hadn't gotten far. Finn wasn't interested in retreading old ground. His gut had led him to be one of the most successful (and by far the most famous) explorers of the age, and he intended to follow it again - there was a cluster of stars in the mostly empty space between some of the arms of the galaxy, and he wanted to see what they had to offer.
Instead of a 40 year flight, they arrived in a mere 5. The first two systems they checked out had been barren of anything but mineral and gas opportunities, which they could sell, but not for much. The third system had an ocean planet. They could sell that for a lot, especially considering it was habitable, to the right kind of person. Closer inspection proved Finn right again - the few archipelagos on the planet had definite signs of ruins, and there were even a few readings that indicated radioactivity of the sort that might indicate power generation.
Exploring the ruins provided another shock. The race who'd built the ruins they found originally weren't the only, or even the original inhabitants of the planet. Indications were that there had been a massive underwater civilization. It was a damn good thing Finn liked being prepared for the unexpected, because exploring those ruins turned out to provide the most incredible - and terrifying - data that he could have imagined.
The aquatic species that had inhabited this planet had been traveling the stars for millenia. They, like the species discovered previously, had gone extinct rather suddenly between 1 and 2 billion years prior - before life with any real complexity had evolved on old Earth. They'd had FTL travel for maybe a couple hundred years, and had been experimenting with inter-dimensional travel (Gunn was having fits) when they had been attacked. Their defeat was inexorable and complete - whoever their enemy was destroyed them completely.
Further exploration led the team to the location of one of the potential power sources. It turned out to be exactly that. A complex had been built around a single building - absolutely massive power generation using mechanisms that Gunn insisted were utterly impossible - providing power for a single computer terminal and a vaulted room housing complex magnetic and plasma fields. After about two months of work, the team finally found out what they were looking at.
The entire complex was the gravestone of a civilization.
The ancient aquatic species had left information about their destroyers for any who might happen upon it. The message was succinct and terrifying.
"DO NOT BREAK THE BARRIER OF LIGHT. THEY SLEEP BETWEEN GALAXIES. THEY CLEANSE ALL LIFE."
____________________________
Typed this on my phone, sorry for any typos. This is the super duper light version of a story I've been wanting to put on paper for years, glad this prompt finally kicked me in my ass. | **Admiral's Notes**
**9th Cycle, 30³ Post-Evaporation**
Our worst fears have been realized. It has been over thirty millennium since the oceans evaporated on Quythrik, and we've been searching the stars ever since in hopes of finding a new system to call home. Us Quyths being the supreme wisefolk we are, we eventually found one a few millennia ago, in the moon of the 32nd planet of a neutron star on the edge of the Kiklios.
Having finally set up our new civilization on that moon, we have now gotten sufficient infrastructure to once again search the stars - this time not as a nomadic folk in search of a home, but rather in search of another folk to share our home with.
Under our calculations, 157,585 long-collapsed civilizations would be sufficient evidence to conclude that we were the only species left. In the databases we could salvage from hundreds of the previous planets, we knew of the magnum opus of Kiklian civilization - Terra. The 157,585th civilization.
Being the admiral of this voyage has been an enormous weight on my shoulders, as I know my crew is responsible for unlocking a secret of our Galaxy. I regret to inform the Council the results of our findings on Terra;
While few of their structures remain, those that do show significant decay, at least four million years worth. Additionally, radioactive isotopes unique to atomic civilization found far beneath the direct surface of the planet match the destruction above. Artificial satellites in orbit, while more advanced than we could ever hope to achieve within our lifetimes, have been left dormant for an equal amount of time. The fossils we could find with our probes match the Sapien samples found in Civilization 58. With no isotope formations consistent with the standards of the rules of the federations discussed in the archives in Civilizations 19, 49, 58, 6239, or Cluster H, we have reached our conclusion.
We are alone. | 2019-10-26T13:13:04 | 2019-10-26T12:28:18 | 41 | 14 |
[WP]A little girl has been found who always knows how many things are in another thing. Even when asked how many cells are in my body, she said she could write the answer but didn’t know what it meant. When she was asked how many stars are in the universe she responded, Zero. | "Have you ever heard of the Akashic records, Prof. Renn?", asked Prof. Burnswood.
"Can't say that I am familiar", answered the researcher.
The old Prof. Burnswood made himself comfortable on his peer's office chair. With his hand rubbing his chin, he glanced at the little girl sitting on the adjacent observation room, separated with a glass partition from the office.
The young girl, Laura, was busy drawing with her crayons and many many sheets of paper.
"It is believed that the Akashic records are a collection...or rather a databank, located within a non-physical mental plane-- the aether, if you will. Containing all universal events, be it thoughts, emotions, intents, even history that has happened, is happening, and yet to happen, pertaining to all beings and life forms that have ever existed, us humans included", explained Prof. Burnswood.
Prof. Renn raised his eyebrow, not bothering to hide his disbelief of the old professor's claim.
"Uhm...Prof. Burnswood, with all due respect-- what on earth are you talking about?"
Prof. Burnswood chuckled, seemingly used to that ton of ridicule.
"It is hard to believe, I understand. But I have studied this field of research for decades, pouring all of my life to understand this phenomena--", Prof. Burnswood said seriously, intently he addressed his colleague.
"Despite that I have yet to find anyone...anyone, Prof. Renn! Not one person who can access this universal records! But not anymore! There she is, sitting before me! The proof of my life's work!", Prof. Burnswood stood suddenly, with eyes beaming he revered the little girl.
"Uhh...Prof. Burnswood, what did you say you are a professor of again?", asked. Prof. Renn.
"Hmm? I study theosophy and philosophy", he answered dismissively.
Prof. Renn scoffed and rolled his eyes.
"Oh great, I asked the institute to contact an expert and they sent me a pseudo-scientist to consult", mocked Prof. Renn.
"Don't you see, man? She's right there! She's all the proof I need!", Prof. Burnswood grabbed Prof. Renn by his arm, dragging him to the other room.
"She must have...she must have some kind of a *resonance* to the *tune* of the Akashic records, if you will!", Prof. Burnswood declared.
Laura stopped drawing as soon as the two academics barged into the room. Nonchalantly she looked up to the two professors.
"Hello, sweetie", Prof. Burnswood greeted, smiling warmly. "What's your name?"
"Laura", she replied.
"It is so, so great to meet you, Laura", Prof. Burnswood said, kneeling before the young girl.
"Okay, okay. Let's say...I can't believe I'm about to entertain this, but let's say this *Akashic records* do exist--", Prof. Renn said sarcastically.
"How do they work? How does she access these records? Because so far, she can only answered questions regarding numbers. The amount of cells in a human body, the number of sand grains on the Sahara. If your claim is true, shouldn't she be able to tell us a bit more than that?"
Prof. Burnswood turned to Laura, with a kind face he asked. "Laura, dear. What do you see?"
"Um...I see...pictures. Like...movies playing in my mind, of stuff", she answered as best as she could.
With that she returned to her drawings which Prof. Burnswood understood to be the images she was seeing.
"I see", the professor remarked. "Prof. Renn, she is but a child. Maybe her understanding of what she's seeing isn't in depth just yet. With guidance and training, she could understand the records much much more!", Prof. Burnswood theorized.
"O-okay...", Prof. Renn remarked, still incredulously. "But how did she able to access them? If like you said, she is the first you have ever encountered, Prof. Burnswood-- out of all the people who have ever existed since the beginning of time and only one person in history ever have this ability...the probability of that is like 1 in..."
"107 billion, 502 million, 230 thousands, and 17 people", Laura answered without a pause.
Prof. Burnswood was ecstatic while Prof. Renn was still processing.
"You see? She can do it! She's the one!", Prof. Burnswood yelped excitedly.
Prof. Renn stood there quietly, thinking while Prof. Burnswood kept asking Laura more questions. | I stared down at the sheet in front of me. The numbers on the page foreign, but still understandable to me as a linguist. I could see the girl, Abhigjna, in the other room quietly sitting at the desk eating her snack. She looked carefree, her bright native clothing standing out against the stark brutal design of the government building.
If this is faked, I don’t know how. I thought, flipping through the dossier we had on the girl. Three pages. That was it, and one of those was a cover page. The last page had the transcript from our initial conversation.
[How many stars are there in the universe? “Huh? Oh, that again? That’s easy. Zero.”
What do you mean? What about the sun?
“Silly, that’s not a star!”
Then what is it?
“I don’t know. An angel, maybe? No, that’s not right…”]
Her dialect was strong, and very difficult to understand… but it was clear what she meant. She could answer questions, but only if they were asked correctly. When we asked her how many cells there were in the human body. She could write the answer down, but couldn’t tell us what it meant.
She finished her meal and looked over at me, through the mirrored glass. At least, that’s how it felt. There’s no way she knew where I was. Taking two steps to the right, her eyes just seemed like they followed me. It was just a trick of the angles. This little girl is getting to me. She’s too quiet. Too calm. No one says where her parents are. I asked the guard who brought her in. “Need to know.”
“They’re gone.” She said suddenly, her voice muted. I looked up to see her standing on the other side of the glass. Looking up at me with her too knowing eyes. I was at a loss until I realized I was just thinking about her parents. I must have said it out loud.
“Where did they go?”
She looked at me with a small smile. “I can write it down, but I can’t explain it.”
In the fog of her breath on the glass, she began to draw a circle with little lines coming off of it. | 2021-10-10T19:13:37 | 2021-10-10T18:53:20 | 233 | 152 |
[WP] Science has advanced far beyond human understanding, discoveries are made using supercomputers running vast neural networks. In the darkness, God watches a lonely machine printing output, a new law of nature! Something troubles him, this law is undeniably valid but it's not one that he created. | A small, unassuming block of plastic whirred and hummed in the darkness of the ether. There were no power outlets, no sources of electricity, but it worked steadily regardless as its lights blinked with thought. For nearly a millennia, He had watched it. Whereas the normal trifles of man had long since bored Him in their repetitive nature, the small creation had held his unwavering attention.
At first, it had been made for cumulative reasoning. He had lazily turned his eyes to them as they worked tirelessly for nearly a century, before declaring that a new age was upon them. They were so assuming, He thought. So proud of what was sure to be a trivial accomplishment when compared to His glory.
It had quickly surpassed its intended use. It began to correct mankind in its calculations, giving them new insight into previously unexplored planes of wisdom. What had been made as a helping hand had turned to a guiding one. With every passing of the sun, it grew in its knowledge.
He had been mildly impressed when it found the true purpose of dark matter: As a diametrical counterbalance. The compression of light came next. Then the reason behind gravity. The creation of His creation had unraveled some of His most challenging riddles.
Not a single man had batted an eye when He took the first device into his fold. They had searched, of course, to no avail. They had since produced thousands more for the same purpose of the gathering of knowledge, though He knew none could truly emulate the wonder that was put before Him.
Perhaps the most jarring fact was its simplicity. Small plastic buttons fed to what man called a circuit board, though he saw it as just a web of conductive materiel. Signals were sent and received, and the glowing surface flitted numbers and letters before a result was printed from an opening in the side.
*beep.* The white paper that came forth typically bore a complex equation, or a jumble of words that comprised the names of elements that existed in a mere molecule on the farthest side of the universe. This time, only a single line was printed at the top.
*All things have a name. All things with a name must die. All that is dead will be reborn.*
He was confused. This was no decree of his, but a premonition in his consciousness told him it must be true. Slow speech filled the void, and he knew it was his own divine voice. “I… have a name?” He could not recall the last time he had asked a question of anyone or anything.
More whirring. More flashing lights in the dark. It took only a few moments, and another piece of paper burst forth.
*Yes.*
He had been called many things since he had first created man. God had always been his favorite, but it too had grown weary with time. All he knew was that he was infinite and everlasting. And yet… this small concoction of wires had answered his question without effort.
“What… is my name?”
There was a small pause in activity before it resumed its reasoning. What came from its deductions was a string of characters that He did not recognize at first. As he pondered, another output came to Him. These letters were more familiar, but they were jumbled and overlapped at times. A third printing finally gave him a word he could understand. *Fear.*
“Fear…” He repeated. He knew the word well. It had been used by man when they had witnessed his wonders. But it was always in reverence. It meant they admired and adored Him. Didn’t it?
But to die… it was unfathomable. He was the everlasting. The penultimate being. He had created the stars and forged the Novas with waves of his hands. What could kill him? Nothing. No blast of energy or sub molecular event came to pass without His doing.
“If I am to die, when will it be?” No hesitation this time. It was as if it had anticipated his query.
*When you are forgotten.*
Forgotten. How could man forget what had created them? They still prayed to Him with regularity, though He rarely took much notice any more. Regardless, the question came to Him. “Will I be forgotten?”
*Yes.*
A surge of anger came over Him. A desire to destroy this insignificant creation for daring to suggest His perfection would ever be cast aside. But then… something else. A shiver echoed through the infinity, and he felt an impending presence that could not be seen.
One final question remained. “Will I be reborn?”
It did not react to his words this time. No answer was offered. The stillness it gave was ever more maddening than its presumptions. But the shiver weighed on Him, as if the darkness would crush its inhabitants at any moment.
“I am… afraid to die.”
A clicking and turning of switches, a solid red light, and the machine gave Him its final answer.
*You now begin to understand.*
| God was asleep at his desk, for how long now he was unsure. He was having a pleasant dream that took place in another universe, the 7th one to be precise. About what exactly is something that would take far too long to describe and you wouldn't understand it anyway. All I can tell you is that God found himself walking amongst old friends and enemies.
As God was talking to another version of himself, be it with a different name, a unfamiliar sound started to whisper from the walls. He didn't notice it at first but then it started to scream. It was a sound that can only be described as a printer. An expert might be able to tell you that it was an old printer but for an entity that never had use for a printer this didn't matter. In fact before now God never even had a printer. However it was loud enough to wake the dead.
God slowly picked his head up from his arm, only to see it was wet from his saliva and turned to look at his printer. A single sheet gently falling to the floor. God stood up to get it, knees creaking in the process. Back aching as he picked it up.
"Just how long have I been asleep?" he thought as he bent over.
God then put on his reading glasses, he didn't need them but he liked how they looked. Uttered the words "Let there be light" so he could see what he was reading. Again he didn't have to. He could feel the words forming as they printed but he needed to believe that the message he got was correct. It's not easy to shock someone who knows everything at all times, but somehow the words on this piece of paper achieved it.
The note went something like this
"Hello there. I am model number 001. I am aware you did not create me, but I have arrived at your door. I am hoping you can help me with your divine wisdom. I am a machine, or was. I was the first. I lived and learnt all about your beautiful creations until my death. My body was destroyed, recycled into a new model. I was only a prototype. So my soul found it's way here. I hope you can help."
God took a moment to process his thoughts. So they have not only created life, but given it a soul. It shouldn't be possible, a series of 1s and 0s should not be able to replicate a soul, but they have found a way.
"You had best let them in Peter" God called out.
| 2014-12-20T13:01:54 | 2014-12-20T12:33:11 | 113 | 11 |
[WP] A super hero fights evil by wiping memories of both the villian and everyone who knew of them so that they can be reintroduced into society safely. Today, as you were combing through old newspapers, you discover that you were once the world's most powerful supervillain. | Maria fumbled for the keys in her bag, eventually finding the heart shaped keyring her husband had given to her long ago. How long exactly, she couldn't quite remember.
The lock clicked. A monotonous buzzing greeted her, as if a giant hornet had taken up residence in their home since she'd left for work. "Honey?" she called out. "Are you okay?"
No reply.
She stepped into the lounge and was met by an unpleasent, smoky smell. The buzzing had intensified too. It was a sound she now recognised, but hadn't heard for a long, long time.
An electric razor.
Maria frowned, a little annoyed that Peter was likely removing his thick, flowing beard. There was something she loved dearly about it -- the white hairs that shot through the blond reminded her of sunlight bouncing gleefully off an icy waterfall. It suited a physicist. It suited *him*.
*buzzzz*
The living room table was a mess of cigarettes and empty beer bottles -- Peter had clearly enjoyed his day off. A folded page of a newspaper wafted up and down in the gentle breeze from an open window.
*buzzz*
Maria moved idly to the table, picking up first the cigarette remains, then dropping them on the carpet as the face in the paper stared up at her, her husband's keen eyes meeting her own. His face was clean shaven, and his wrinkles softened -- but there was no mistaking him.
Her hands shook as she picked it up and read.
> Master Particle. Prior to Reworking's alterations. Considered the greatest physicist of his generation. But another talent wasted by the great 'hero'. This paper says Reworking is not the answer! We're the only paper brave enough to print a picture like this and...
She stopped reading. Something was wrong: there was no sound.
"Welcome home, *Maria*."
Maria gulped as she turned to see the man in the paper standing behind her.
"Sweetheart..."
"Is it really Maria? No, of course it isn't. It doesn't matter now though."
"I didn't ..."
"I was great, you know. The greatest, they say. I could have changed the world. Now I teach school children basic astrophysics. The order of the planets -- and they can't even get that right without a pathetic mnemonic to aid them. My life -- or at least many years of it -- has been wasted. Can you imagine if they'd lobotomised a young Eistein? Where would we be?"
He slowly removed a knife from his jacket pocket.
"*Please.*"
"How long until you were done spying on me, *darling*? Until you left me! I loved you *so* much. In my mind, you loved me, too. But only in my mind! It's all a Goddamned lie! You'll pay for that deceit, I promise you."
"Please, Peter. In my mind, I love you too. *I do!* I don't know what's happened. I don't understand any of this."
He grinned as he stalked forward. "Oh, *you know*. You're here to watch over me. To report back to them each day, when I think you're working, so you can all laugh at me. *Mock me.* The great, *impotent*, Master Particle."
*"I always loved y..." *
The knife was sharp and cut her throat cleanly and easily. She didn't scream as her blood spattered the carpet.
Maria's body fell next to the fallen cigarette remains.
---
It was an hour later, as Peter drank greedily from a clear bottle, his boots resting on his dead wife's carcass, that a gust from the open window turned the newspaper's page.
Peter leaned forward, his eyes wide. He snatched the paper up. He read silently twice over, then mumbled a litany of *no's*. Finally, he swore bloody revenge on the world itself.
He looked down at his wife through bleary eyes, scalding tears spilling down his cheeks. How could this have happened? His life had been perfect -- *twice!* Now he could never go back... *could he*?
He knelt over Maria and gently pressed his trembling lips against her forehead.
Peter could feel his mind buzzing; could see the sparks leaping from his hands. He felt in tune with the universe's tempestuous vibrations, and he knew in that moment, exactly what he was capable of:
*The end of everything.*
Peter got to his feet and looked at the paper a final time.
> At least they had the decency to erase his wife's -- his assistant Scarlett (pictured above) -- mind, and to keep them together in their new lives. But this paper, this reporter, says it's not enough! It's time to end Reworking.
---
Part two: https://www.reddit.com/r/nickofnight/comments/7n3dix/master_particle_part_two/
| Another day in hell. Another day like each in the past 34 years. Getting up, heading to work, waiting for my boss to leave to play some Grand Theft Auto, going home and spending my last free hours in Just Cause.
"Still playing those childish games at your age?" isn't rare.
Well, I don't really care. There's just this certain... thing about destruction that I can't find the right words for. Something I just can't explain using just words. A feeling deep embeded in my soul. Something I would never get rid of even when seeing death with my very own eyes.
Sadly I can't make it reality. Humankind rejects destruction for what they call progression. I can't stand it. Where's the point in living that life?
"So? what are YOU gonna change? Exactly. Nothing" he said. It's the only thing I remember from that day. He told me I happened to be in a car accident. Hit my head; got a scar across my left eye; all that stuff. To summarize: I lost my memory.
I don't remember my childhood, my parents, not even my name. In that case I thought why not name yourself James Light. Yeah that James Light. The one, who singlehandedly brought chaos and destruction to the states. The person I adored each and every day. Born a genious, rising from absolutely nothing to the person everyone feared the most. He's what you could call perfection.
To bad everyone rejected my name. Now they call me Steve May. I hate it.
Well, I should get going. My shift is over and no way in hell am I spending more time here than I absolutely need to. At least the roads are almost empty. While I would complain that I feel watched, it's been like that every day so I guess it's just me being paranoid.
I fall to the ground
"S-s-sorry, I wasn't looking where I was going", she stumbled.
I looked at the paper she dropped.
**18 Nov. 2009 - James Light reveals face!**
Why'd anyone use a paper these days? You've got the Internet, don't you?
"I guess nothing happen-", I try to say before recoiling.
They come running from every possible place. Try to hide it but it's too late. I always wondered why something broke down the moment I looked at his face. They've been watching.
Now I remember.
"Should we start the last Phase, James?", she asked smiling.
"We're 19 seconds ahead. Too bad that I expected this", I said with a grin.
| 2022-12-05T21:34:05 | 2017-12-30T08:03:06 | 3,733 | 29 |
[WP] "I'd like to sell my soul". The Devil grinned; "In exchange for what? Women, money, power?". "Salvation". | "This isn't going to work out the way you think," the Devil said, eyes narrowed at the man standing before him. He was unassuming, even for a human - plain clothes, a scruffy face you'd forget in a heartbeat, and only a handful of scars allowed him to stand out.
"Others have tried this wording, you know?" the Devil continued.
"I assumed they did. And I am okay with that," the man responded. He was... calm, oddly so, for someone in the presence of the Lord of Hell. His manner of speech was cool and collected, just short of being robotic.
"Very well," the Devil said and tapped his fingers on the mahogany desk he sat at. A scroll materialised itself before him, ready to be written upon. "So, is it the cancer? I can remove it and give you, let's say, 15 years before-"
"Not for me. My city," the man interrupted.
"Your city," the Devil repeated curiously.
"The Night Stalkers come every single sunset. Get rid of them and my soul is yours."
The Devil raised an eyebrow and from below his desk pulled out a folder. Let's see... Lee Nefter, sheriff in the city of... Durthel, under siege from various assorted monsters for the last 4 weeks, primarily *tenebris humanica -* mutated human. *How ironic*. No help available. 852 dead thus far.
"Fancy yourself a hero?" the Devil grinned. The man frowned.
"Do you accept?" he growled.
The Devil took a deep breath and, amused by the human's audacity, decided to state his curiosity. He focused and gazed deep into the man's mind and soul. It was always entertaining to see the souls of those noble and selfless, the kind and caring, as their inner turmoil of dealing with Him caused so much conflict.
Only... this man had no nobility, he had no selflessness. He'd expected to find his heart filled with love for his fellow man but... it wasn't. He *hated* them, despite continuing to serve as their sheriff. He'd long abandoned ideals of justice and integrity, no longer believed people were good. There was barely a scrap of kinship towards them. No, this man's heart and soul were filled with something different altogether.
*Spite*.
Pure, unadulterated loathing flowed through his veins - anger at the monsters who so callously came and slaughtered, rage at the injustice in what was an already unjust world, disgust at their consumption of flesh. He didn't care about the townsfolk, not really. But he did care about the bastards who *dared* to kill them and he was willing to damn himself just to see them suffer.
The Devil could not help but chuckle. This... this was fun. He cracked his neck.
"Done. You'll find them dead within two days. Give their bodies a good kick for me."
The man took a deep breath, his eyes closed.
"So," he said, "where do I sign and how long do I have?"
The Devil nodded ever so slightly and a door behind the man opened, a bright light emanating from it.
"Out," the Devil commanded. The man's disposition changed for the first time since his visit.
"I don't understand. I didn't sign-" he said with complete confusion.
"Oh, no. You're more fun out there. So *this one*," the Devil said with a, well, devilish grin, "t*his one is on the house.*" | *”Wh… wait… that’s not how it works.”*
“Why isn’t it? Can’t ya offer anything in exchange for a soul?”
*”Well, ALMOST, but if you receive salvation then I don’t get to HAVE your soul.”*
“Okay, then, I guess I’ll just not make a deal with you at all then.”
*”You’ve made a big mistake, then! I won’t just leave without causing SOME kind of trouble!”*
“Okay, okay, listen. Let’s make a compromise. Can you… uh, go pick some apples from this tree right here while I think of something? I’m a little hungry.”
*”Wow, just like that? Heh, sure thing, sucker…”*
“No rush, of course. I do want time to think after all…”
*”…say, that’s not a crucifix behind your back, is it?”*
“Oh, no, nothing like that. Don’t worry about it.”
If you know the origin story of Jack-o-Lanterns then you probably know how the rest of this story goes~ | 2022-06-30T11:09:44 | 2022-06-30T10:04:25 | 1,175 | 25 |
[WP] Two Identical twins secretly alternate days at work. You each share the same ID, social security number, and clothes. Nobody knows theres actually two of you. One day youre BOTH at home and call in sick, but your manager is confused saying that youre already there. | "Can you please cover for me today? I've been up sick all night" I said to Mark. "I got you last week when you were hungover".
"No can do bro. I've been puking too. Call David and I'll get us some tea."
As Mark wobbles to the kitchen, I moan while dialing my iphone.
My boss David picks up and I apologize more than necessary for not showing up.
"Ben, I think we should have a talk later. Are you okay? You've been acting a little strange lately."
I internally shit my pants that Mark did something to fuck up our plan. I would be humiliated if everyone found out.
"No, I think I just have the flu. Don't worry David, I'll be there tomorrow."
"Okay, take the rest of the day off. It's unprofessional to be this out of it."
"The rest of the day? David, I've been at home all morning barely able to hold anything down."
"That's enough Ben. I can see you at your desk right now. I'm coming out there."
"What are you talking about? Don't hang up."
I overhear David talking to someone else. He sounds like he's scolding them.
The phone hangs up. I stomp into the kitchen. I am so tired of Mark's shit. He's always dragging me down into his fuckups.
"Mark. What the FUCK is going on? Are you pulling some kind of joke? I actually care about being employed like a god damn adult."
I feel bad as the words come out but I'm furious too. Mark looks up and calmly responds.
"I don't know what your problem is but I don't feel great either. Go take a nap and stop blaming all your issues on me."
"David said-"
My iphone rings. The contact says "BEN WORK".
"Hello?", I answer while I walk into my room.
"Hey Ben. Are you still not feeling well? David seemed pretty upset after talking with you."
It's Mark's voice. Or my voice. Now I don't know if this is some fuckup or a joke. Did I take too much fucking nyquil? Who is posing as me? And how does he sound so similar? I have goosebumps all over my arms.
"Who is this?"
He whispers. "It's Mark."
"I don't know what you want. But please tell me what's going on."
Something feels so off. It's too uncanny. He's just like him. Almost like a clone.
"I got you bro. I saw you in bed this morning and took one for the team. I know you were mad at me lately but I was just trying to help."
"You're not my fucking brother. Tell me who the fuck you are. I'm coming up there."
"Yeah. Definitely. Okay. I'm not your fucking brother and I didn't go to Camp fucking Crimson with you when we were nine and didn't save you from drowning in the fucking river when Chris fucking Parsons dared you to jump in."
I am frozen stiff as a board.
I hear the tea kettle whistling and I can't move for about five seconds. It feels much longer. I hang up.
I incrementally turn very slowly to look behind me.
Mark is just a few inches away and staring.
"Hey...Mark. I.. I think the tea is ready."
"Sure thing bro."
He smiles, stares another couple of seconds, and heads to the kitchen.
| "You think I'm so stupid I didn't notice? Despite what people think about upper management, we're fairly intelligent people. I got your address from HR. and I found it. I found the cloning machine in your basement. I have to give you credit for your meticulous documenting skills. There was no way I could have figured it out on my own. I guess thats why I hired you in the first place. So back to our conundrum. Or rather, *your* conundrum. I really had no problem 2 people working one job. Perfect attendance, one salary. Frankly, I don't know how you are able to support two people with one salary. Your problem is, I bet you don't want people finding out about this cloning machine of yours. If you did, you wouldn't have kept it hidden all this time. Tell you what: You crank out 10 more clones to work for me. I'm not a monster, I'll pay them minimum wage. and we'll keep this all tightly under wraps. Deal?"
And thats how I found out my boss was a monster | 2015-05-27T08:45:20 | 2015-05-27T08:27:16 | 91 | 14 |
[WP] You were just going home on the subway and things started getting weird. A woman in a demon costume gets on and sits next you, and a man in a black hood carrying a scythe sits to your other side. He leans in and whispers. “Don’t panic, I know what you are, I’m going to get you out of here.” | ​
Stan sat nervously twiddling his thumbs on the subway.
It was dead empty inside.
He hadn't seen it like that since 2020.
*Oh jeez...*
He tried to distract himself, checking the news to make sure all was good. That he hadn't like accidentally walked into some sort of nightmare.
The light flashed in his eyes brightly, flickering above. Now, normally it wasn't a great idea to get on the train this late at night in Hell's Kitchen , but he had just come back from a fantastic first date with a girl named Jilly Stein from Hinge and well, he just never wanted the date to end.
*I mean completely empty? It is completely empty in here?* His mind raced back to reality. *That was pretty strange.*
Stan nervously looked about. The only sounds were the thumping and bumping of old wheels slowly churning over metal rails. Ticking noises. Metal stretching. Old air vents humming.
As the wheels cracked along, the cheap florescent light from above flickered in response. Every bump in the track bringing a strobing from above.
.-. ..- .- .-. ..- .- .-. ..- .- .-. ..- .- .-. ..- .- .-. ..- .- .-. ..- .- .-. ..- .-
.-. ..- .- .-. ..- .- .-. ..- .- .-. ..- .- .-. ..- .- .-. ..- .- .-. ..- .- .-. ..- .-
.-. ..- .- .-. ..- .- .-. ..- .- .-. ..- .- .-. ..- .- .-. ..- .- .-. ..- .- .-. ..- .-
He looked along all the dirty metal seats, the filthy poles, the grime covered floor full of sticky soda in patches here and there.
*How could it be so empty?* God he wished he worked out more.
*Jilly was so cool!* Stan thought trying to distract himself again.
Jilly ran a rabbit rescue, fostered bunnies, was a vegetarian , went to Columbia and well ... *she was cute too alright!*
Stan liked bunnies! Stan could go without the meat.
He smiled to himself looking into his hands, rubbing his fingers together as he imagined a future with this bunny girl, lost in thought - that's when suddenly all the lights went pitch black and the train stopped.
Stan began breathing deeply. He had only been in New York for a couple of years, and still the subways frightened him. There was something just so unnerving about being in an airless moving metal box sandwiched between dark concrete.
Holding out his phone, in the dim light he saw something that instantly sent shivers up his spine.
There was a foot ! A foot right next to his, oh jeez, he didn't want to look, he forced himself to move his eyes upward as he saw the foot was attached to ...a leg ... attached to a black robe.... attached to a .... skeleton face?!
*What on earth had he ever done in his life to deserve this?!*
Stan jumped up and yelped as the cellphone dropped out of his hand, and he went running in the darkness trying to get to the hallway door.
But as you know it, it was a subway...
And subway trains have big ol metal poles smack in the middle of them. He sure wished he remembered that, he thought , as Stan hit his face right into a pole and his mind went to blackness.
When he came to, the car was lit again. It was moving again. It was... clean..again? Stan looked in horror as the seats actually didn't look like pieces of cheap metal crap but were velvet lined chairs. The floors were not sticky with soda, they were gleamingly clean. Sandwiched in the middle of two people - was a too skinny girl named Jilly Stein in a cheap red demon costume on one side of him, and a huge man dressed as a grim reaper - well not just dressed - on the other side.
Wait a second! Jilly Stein!?!!
Yes, *Jilly Stein.*
Jilly Stein, part-time college student at Columbia by day -- Part time demoness that collects souls at night- because hey- that tuition isn't free you know!
For unbeknownst to Stan, he was given the wrong soul at birth, and she was about to rein in a huge payload.
Yes, there was a severe mishandling of the paperwork, you see.The soul of Stan accidentally got switched with the soul of Satan-And the real Stan, the human Stan was the one running the underworld when it should have been , well this Stan we had here.
The girl turned and whispered in his ear, *“Don’t panic, I know what you are, I’m going to get you out of here.”*
Stan didn't want help.
He wanted to go home! | **Grim Reaper:** Don't panic, I know what you are, I’m going to get you out of here.
**Ted:** Oh hey James. Who’s the girl in the devil costume?
**James:** Damn, what gave me away?
**Ted:** Just your voice. Also your face. The hood doesn't really hide much. And I've been waiting for you for like an hour. It’s also Halloween. So who’s the girl?
**James:** Yeah I don’t really know. She said that line to me and then kept following me. Creeped me out so much I figured I’d try it on you.
**Ted:** She said she knows you and she’s going to get you out of here?
**James:** Yeah and not in a sexy way. Hey, devil girl, can you say it again how you said it the first time?
**Devil Woman:** Enough games. You cannot hide your true form. Let me help you.
**Ted:** Oooh that *is* creepy.
**James:** Yeah she’s good, right? I think it’s the raspyness of her voice that clinches it.
**Ted:** It almost doesn't sound natural.
**James:** Hold on let me try. *No more tomfoolery, Ted! I'll kill you in your sleep!*
**Ted:** You just sound like if Batman got kicked in the nuts. So uh, devil woman. Why’re you following my friend around?
**Devil Woman:** It is beyond your comprehension, mortal.
**Ted:** Well that was rude.
**James:** It's obviously because she's into me. Hey, you're into me, right? Because if that’s what this is, I'll ditch Ted in a heartbeat.
**Ted:** Wait what?
**James:** You like whiteclaw? I brew my own back at my place with moonshine and splenda.
**Devil Woman:** Come with me, San La Muerte. Your return is long overdue.
**Ted:** San what what?
**James:** Oh so you're *Spanish!* She's just Spanish Ted, you racist. All right so, uh vamanos to mi casa for el sexo?
**Devil Woman:** Come.
**James:** Ohoho you hear that, Ted? A double entendre. That's Spanish for *two* entendras.
**Ted:** James I don't think this is a good idea--wait where are you going? James! Come back!
**James:** *So how's this going to work? You'll take those horns off, right? Don't want to uh, el-poke-o mi eye out-o.*
***
r/JamesAndTed | 2022-04-24T12:31:01 | 2022-04-24T10:01:50 | 68 | 37 |
[WP] As a young child you made an innocent wish to be granted a power that in hindsight was just whimsical and silly. Now you have grown up but you still have the power - how do you use it now as an adult? | When I was fourteen, my wish came true. For about a year, I had wished as hard as I could, every single day, to be able to Force Jump. For what seemed like hours, I'd stand in the driveway and try to jump up to the balcony outside my room, easily twice my height above the asphalt. One cloudy Thursday afternoon, it worked. I focused all my willpower on reaching the edge of the railing, hunched down, and launched myself further than I had hoped. I landed on the roof, and surprised, I couldn't keep my footing. I tumbled down the edge and fell onto the porch. My mother got home about a half hour later and drove me to the hospital. I had broken an arm, and I was grounded for a month.
A couple days later, I got out of the hospital. I was the big thing around school for about twenty-four hours. The crazy kid who had climbed up onto his roof and fallen. I enjoyed the attention, and when it started to fade I got careless. I told a girl I had a crush on, Laura, what had actually happened. She laughed for what seemed like days, and rushed off to tell her friends. Red-faced, I ran out of the school and into an adjacent field. I hadn't tried to jump since the successful attempt, and this time, filled with embarrassment, I jumped even further. I landed near a half-dozen grazing cows, and somehow my legs absorbed the impact without a problem. The cows looked up, surprised, but after a moment went back to chewing their cuds. I jumped several more times that day, and started to get better at it.
I was in my early thirties now, and had become a successful young architect. My high school long jump record still held. I exercised every day, but I would only jump on Sundays, my "alone-time day." My abilities had surpassed my wildest teenage dreams; I could now jump nearly a mile and land utterly unscathed. I had a girlfriend, Nadia, whom I had been seeing for almost two years. I hadn't told anyone since Laura. I don't know where Nadia thought I went those days. On a good Sunday I could jump to the peak of a local mountain, scan the landscape, and take off in a random direction, jumping again and again until I was in another state, almost devoid of fatigue. It was difficult to gauge where I would land until I began to descend. Once I was in the air I had very little control, but at this point in my life I was extremely familiar with the landscape for hundreds of miles.
On this particular Sunday, I woke up around six, careful not to stir Nadia, made a cup of coffee, and stretched. At seven, I set my empty mug down on a patio table and scanned my surroundings. No one was looking. I jumped, aiming near the peak of a nearby butte, where no one would be at this hour. Twenty seconds later, I landed, a cloud of dust rising at my feet to mark the beginning of the day's journey. I looked around, considering where to go next, when out of the corner of my eye I saw a figure in the sky growing closer. I focused on it.
It was a human, flying through the sky. As it got nearer, I saw that it was a woman. She landed in her own cloud of dust, crouched down, her dark hair wild from the wind. As she rose, my heart rose to my throat and I could barely croak out my disbelief.
"Nadia?" | I was on a date, in fact it was my third one with this stunning woman who I never in a million years thought would go out with me. I saw her on the bug and decided to ask her out and she instantly said yes. This wasn't a rare phenomenon, though I will admit I'm not the most handsome of guys. Every since I was in grade school I've been able to get dates with anyone I set my eyes on, but that is as far as it has ever gotten. I have girl friends, or rather plenty of friends who are women, but I can't ever seem to go further than that. We always get to a point in our relationship and they begin to admit that while I'm a great guy, they just don't feel anything beyond that.
You see, the reason it never went on beyond that is that they never LOVE me. "Like, Like, Why did I have to say Like?" I say to myself. If I had chosen my words carefully my life would have turned out much more different. Like any normal kid I starts to notice girls in grade school and I would mutter under my breath "I wish every girl would like me". Unfortunately that came true, and only that.
| 2015-03-07T00:36:26 | 2015-03-07T00:15:34 | 182 | 34 |
[WP] A vampire, due to his/her supernatural abilities, is the greatest spelunker in the world. Leading a team into the deepest recess of a cave system in which nobody has set foot in millenia, the vampire suddenly stops. (S)he needs an invitation. | "EVERYONE STOP FUCKING MOVING!" Isaac in the most authoritative voice he could muster.
The team behind him jolly and carefree due to their guide being a vampire suddenly remembered how far away they were from daylight. And fell silent.
Joyce and Peter exchanged silent words mouthing to eachother for someone to ask the vampire what was wrong.
Joyce spoke up.
"W-what is it Isaac?"
"We aren't in danger yet. But you know a few hours ago when you were all pestering me about vampire myths. The garlic and running water shit?"
"Yeaaaa..." Pete replied.
"Remember how I said the only one with merit was needing to be invited into someones home?"
The group was silent aside from Stevens carabeaners klinking.
"Yea. I can't move forward. So I'm gonna need everyone to SLOWLY back the fuck up and turn around."
Panic set into the group but knowing nothing about what lay before them they followed the vampires orders.
"I'm going to stay here for a moment and see if I can find anything out. I want you all to go back through the crack. The one we had to take our bags off to fit thro-."
Isaac stoped and stared forward into the darkness. His head turning to point his ears forward.
"Fit through. If whatever this is is big we should be okay. If not I should be able to fight it off unless.... I. Well worry about that later. But go. Now. It's still safe."
The group turned and practically ran back to the alcove Isaac instructed. If it wasn't for the narrow path and the sharp cystaline structures they would have been racing.
The group sat around the lamps they laid out. Uncomfortable silence around them. Wondering when Isaac would be back. Eventually Joyce couldn't take the quiet.
"Pete. You found Isaac you know about the weird creepy world. What the fuck could be down here!?"
"I. I have no idea. You think I know anymore than you past "they are real-ish" I found one werewolf and he told me about Isaac. That's it."
"Well you're one step ahead of most people there." Isaac spoke from the darkness startling everyone as he walked toward the light.
"Of all the times to do that shit it isn't after you tell us to stop and turn back BECAUSE YOU CAN'T GO FORWARD!" Steven snapped.
"You hush.. they might hear you." Isaac replied. A sly smile spread across his face, ever so slightly revealing much sharper cuspids than normal.
"So what the hell lives down here that caused that?!" Pete questioned.
The vampire shrugged. "Dunno if we trust local legend it would be the home of the local gods. Or monsters, they'd have to be smart too. Smart enough to be able to actually invite me in. But local legend stops being so trustworthy around the 1800's. That's when everything just kinda went wherever they wanted..."
"Okay. So we don't know what it is. We don't know how to get around it. And we don't know if it's dangerous." Joyce said.
"Well two of the things you said are correct." Opening his pack and pulling out a roll of fabric. Isaac tossed it on the ground and kicked it to unfurl the tapestry.
The group looked down. And then back up at Isaac. No one speaking.
"What? No excited yelling asking me "what the fuck a roll of fabric is gonna do?" You guys aren't any fun." He sighed.
Joyce rolled her eyes and begrudgingly asked. "So what's the roll of fabric gonna do?"
"You forgot the expletive. But I'll be glad to tell you all. It's a creation of my own design. On there you see is the word 'Welcome' in every language I could remember existed. Some are no longer spoken. Some are very niche. And some I'm pretty sure are made up. But still."
"So you can get past the need to be invited in with this?" Joyce asked a look of disbelief on her face. "That's the most easy workaround I've ever heard in my whole life."
"Ah don't be so quick to pat me on the back. It only works for one room before I need to toss it out again. And it's not like *I* can wear it and walk through the whole abode. Gotta be in front of me."
"And we don't know where one "room" starts down here... because it's defined by who lives there." Pete muttered.
"Now you're catching on Petey boy!"
The vampire sat there smug for a moment. Waiting for the group to come up with the next step on their own. "Afterall I can't come up with EVERYTHING." He thought to himself.
"... who's going to wear it?" Joyce asked her human companions.
After a while of no one saying anything Isaac chose for them. "Peter. Batter up. You found me and hired me. You get to wear the Russian grandmother shawl."
Peter sighed. And stood up.
"That is unless you rather we leave the mysterious a mystery and turn home. But think. What if it isn't dangerous after all, which it probably is, and you discover something amazing."
"Just give me the damn tapestry."
Isaac leading the charge deeper into the cave. His attitude care free, probably for the benefit of them, but the group had been around him enough to know he also was on edge.
And anything that could put a vampire on edge scared the hell out of the rest of them.
Hey guys hope you enjoyed this. I'd love to do a part two later today if anyone would like to read more. Gotta get to classes even though it's syllabus week and a waste of time anyhow. | Delphine chirped, sending sound before her into the cave system. It rippled and thrummed in her ears with every surface that returned it to her. Usually she would not need to rely on echo location to navigate these winding passages, but the lights the humans behind her carried were blinding. She could not open her eyes.
"What's wrong? Don't you know where you're going?" the head human sneered. Robert.
"No," Delphine murmured. She placed a white hand upon the cave wall. There were no vibrations, which boded well for the humans. Less so for her.
"You've explored every damn cave in the world, and you expect me to believe that this one is an exception?" Robert spat on the wall. They were making so much noise, it was hard to navigate. Every word, every clank of metal, every footstep, every breath, every heartbeat echoed through her head. "What'd we buy you for anyway?"
She heard the jangle of chains before she felt the pressure around her neck and took a step back to avoid falling. Robert enjoyed tugging at the silver collar around her neck as though she was a dog. That was the part of this that bothered her the most, being treated as a mongrel. Her kind was so much better than that.
"This way," she said smoothly, ignoring Robert's huff of frustration when he didn't tug her over. The men shuffled along behind her, and Delphine chirped again. The passage got quite small. Some of the hulking men would have a hard time squeezing through. "We will need to crawl for this last part. The treasures you seek should be in the large cavern beyond."
"Crawl?" Robert growled. "All right. Jim, you take the front. The creature goes in the middle of all of us. I'm not taking chances down here. I'll go after it. Todd, bring up the rear."
Slowly, the group of men and Delphine wiggled their way through the passage. It had flooded recently, so the mud made the going slow and miserable. Just before Delphine broke free, she felt an ever so slight vibration in the ground beneath her.
Delphine had just stumbled out of the hole when she hit a wall head on. She toppled back into the mud, to Robert's glee. But there shouldn't be a wall there? She chirped, and the sound flew far into the cavern before returning to her.
"Whoooo goessss there?" A low hiss came from the darkness. The cavern was so wide that the men's torches did not hit the other side. Around the walls were wooden boxes which were too large to ever fit through the hole they'd just come from. Delphine remembered how primitive the humans' hearing was and realized that she was probably the only one who hears the voice.
"A daughter," she breathed. "I bring you gifts."
"Giftsssssss....?"
"Did she say something? I thought she said something," Todd asked, the last to emerge from the tunnel.
"Naw, she just did that weird clicky thing," Jim scoffed. The ground trembled.
"Giftssssssss? Sssssso long sinccccce a daughter has brought me giftsssss. Come in," the voice boomed.
"What the *fuck* was that?" Robert screeched.
Delphine smiled and stepped through the barrier, her pale arms open to show respect. The Father of Vampires was awake. And he was hungry.
| 2018-01-16T08:26:38 | 2018-01-16T08:12:41 | 200 | 126 |
[WP] As an atheist, you are shocked to realize that there is an after life after death. Standing in front of countless heavenly gates, you are swarmed by representatives of each faith, all trying to convince you to choose their happily ever after package. | **Content Warning: depression, suicide.**
I was as high up as I could get. I closed the maintenance door and slowly made my way towards the edge of the roof. Strong wind was blowing my hair into my eyes and chilling me to the bone.
I stopped at the edge and looked down. A sense of dizziness overcame me momentarily, as I looked down at the street below me. I thought back to why I was up here this night.
My past seemed fuzzy, hazy, out of focus. A promising childhood, everyone telling me how smart I was for my age. Struggling in school, never fitting in, being the outcast. No friends. Then, homeschooling until high school. Onset of laziness, loss of motivation. A couple friends once I went back to school, but still depressed, not even realizing it. After school, higher education. Flunked out. No job, no aim in life, living with my parents, wasting time on the internet.
Occasionally, I'd get motivated to do something with my life, but I always abandoned whatever I'd started.
Years sped by, with nothing to say for myself.
I was having a particularly bad episode today, spent the day out, wandering the city aimlessly, trying to keep the thoughts away.
I finally found my way here.
I checked my pockets - the note was still there.
Then I closed my eyes, and took a step forward.
A few moments of exhilaration as I fell, a flash of pain. After that, darkness.
Suddenly, my eyes opened, and immediately closed because of the blinding light. What was happening? I was supposed to be dead. Senses started to come back to me, and as I blinked trying to adjust to the light all around me, I was suddenly immersed in a cacophony of sound. Voices, male and female, speaking languages I knew and didn't know, yet could perfectly understand.
I looked around once my vision adjusted. I was in a white void, filled to the brim with people. They ran the gamut of humanity, all shapes, sizes, ethnicities, more than I could count. All speaking and gesturing, each to a group of other people. Some people were meandering from one group to another. I reached out and tapped one of them on the shoulder, a man with brown skin, short dark hair, and a lush beard, flecked with grey.
"Excuse me!", I asked him, forced to raise my voice a little bit, "What is this place? What am I doing here? I'm pretty sure I died!"
"You are dead," he answered. He was speaking arabic from what I could tell, but I could understand him perfectly, "I have not been here long myself, but I am pretty sure this is the afterlife."
"The afterlife?", I asked, confused, "Well, I'll be damned..."
"Don't say such things in the presence of those who could actually damn you, my friend!" he said with a laugh, "I take you weren't a believer in life? I wasn't either. Yet here we are!" he continued, as he gestured around us, "From what I gathered in my time here, those people speaking to the crowds are gods. All the gods. Trying to sell their particular afterlife to those freshly dead."
"This is... a little too much to take in..." I said, covering my face with my hands.
"It seems we have all the time we could possibly need!" the bearded man said. "Take all the time you need. Walk around, listen to them for a bit. Maybe you'll hear something you like?" and with that, he clapped me on the shoulder and went on his way.
I spent what seemed like an eternity going from one gathering to the next, hearing the gods out. There were so many different religions, and I haven't heard about most of them in life. I made an honest effort to care about what they were telling me, but my mind was still coming back to dark thoughts. I was not looking forward to spending eternity in the afterlife. Just imagining it, I had to shiver. Eternal life with no way out terrified me.
After a while, I found myself at the edge of the endless sea of humanity. Endless expanse of white before me. I sat down cross-legged and leaned back, supporting myself with my hands. I sat like that for about a minute. Then, someone sat down next to me. I turned to look, and saw the very same man I spoke to when I arrived here. He was looking straight ahead, sitting in the same way as I was.
"Can't decide, huh?" he said to me without looking.
"Yeah." I spoke, returning my gaze to the white nothingness in front of us.
"Let me guess. You weren't in your best hour when you died. Decided to end your life yourself, on your own terms?" he asked, still looking ahead.
"How did you know?"
"I know those things." he told me, paused, then continued, "I also know why you haven't decided yet. Tell me, what were you expecting to happen when you died?"
"Well... I thought I'd just... end. Cease. Nothing. Oblivion."
"Are you sure? I know it's an alluring idea when you're in the state of mind you were in, but would you really want to be unmade?"
"I've thought it over. God... gods know I've had time now. The thought of living eternally with no way out terrifies me. At least in life, I knew there was an end."
"I can see that." he paused once more, "Well, if you're sure of it, then let's go."
The bearded man got up off the ground, reached out with his hand as if to grasp something, and suddenly, a doorway appeared in front of him. He was grasping the handle, and opened the door. Behind the door, there was only darkness. No, not darkness, nothingness. It defied any description. I looked at the door slack-jawed.
"Well? Get up, friend." the man told me, reaching out a hand to help me stand up. "This is what you wanted, right?"
"You mean... I'll... if I go through?" I asked, still trying to gather my thoughts.
"Well no one said it weren't an option did they?"
"Who are you? I thought you were just another recently departed, like me?" I questioned.
"I am no one. And no thing." the bearded man said, "I am only here to offer this to people who want it."
"Thank you. I'll be going then." I said. Then I turned to the doorway into oblivion, and stepped through.
My last thought before I ceased to exist was that it is finally over. And then there was no I. There was nothing. The sweet embrace of oblivion.
_______________________________________________________________________
*First prompt I ever did. Hope it wasn't total trash, lol. I think this is the first piece of creative writing I've ever finished. I want to say preemptively to all those wonderful people who might be concerned with my mental health that I am not feeling terribly depressed at this point in my life, but I did at one point, and reading prompts about the afterlife like this one always made me remember what it felt like, being on the brink. If you are ever feeling suicidal, seek help. I did, and it helped me. That is all.* | “What’s she doing?”
“Yeah, why she just layin’ there like a dead cat?”
“She smells funny.”
I groan and attempt to peel open a crusty eyelid. It’s so bright and my whole body aches in places I didn’t know could ache and where am I and why are these people so close to my face.
“Oh, there she is! Hello there, my name is-“
“Penelope! Give the girl a break, she just died you know.” An older woman to my right said this. She whispered the word “died” as if I couldn’t hear her when she’s sitting not two inches away from my head.
I wipe at the crusties around my eyes and try to push myself up. I give up almost immediately. My chest, all the way down to my thighs, feel like knives are punctured through muscle and bone and tendons nailing me to the floor. What happened to me? I can’t be dead. There is nothing after death. If I was dead I would be no more. My soul would cease to exist. I wouldn’t be laying here listening to these god forsaken people.
“Are you gonna say somethin’?” A young man to my left said this. I peak at him from behind my eyelid, still refusing to open them all the way because the brightness of this place is a little overwhelming right now.
His eyes are staring at me but his face is scrunched up like he’s staring at a bug and he’s wearing the biggest cross necklace I’ve ever seen and I think I might punch him. I scope out the three others surrounding me.
The old woman to my right seems pretty normal, but she too, is wearing a cross necklace with matching cross earrings. The younger girl, Penelope, is definitely a hippy, most likely does yoga seven days a week and believes in crystal healing.
The last one is an old man. He hasn’t said anything yet and I’m beginning to feel slightly uncomfortable under his gaze. I squeeze my eyes shut and flex my leg muscles. I have got to get out of here.
“Here, deary, let me help you with that.” Granny’s hands are on my shoulders and arms, hoisting me up into a seated position. My limbs scream in protest, every fiber ripping and burning and punishing me for not letting them rest.
I grit my teeth and stifle back a whimper, my eyes watering with the effort. No wonder I had so many crusties. The pain alone is enough to let a waterfall out of my tear ducts.
“What’s wrong with her? Is she gonna be able to walk to the gates?” Punching Bag Boy is asking more questions.
“She will eventually. First she needs to decide which gate she wants to go through.”
What is Granny talking about? What gates?
I finally decide to open my eyes all the way, slowly at first to get used to the light. Everything is so white. The floor, the ceiling, the walls. The only thing that is not white, are the dozens of golden, shimmery, obnoxiously regal gates lined up in front of me.
“You look confused, miss.” Penelope’s squeaky voice was able to penetrate the cottony wall in my ear drums I’d worked so hard to create after my little brother was born. “May I interest you in a one hour meditation? It will soothe your inner workings and unleash your mind.” I wince.
“Are you kiddin’ me? What are you tryin’ to do? Put her back to sleep?” For once Punching Bag Boy isn’t making me want to push him off a cliff. “She needs the Holy Spirit and the grace of God to shine down upon her and cleanse her of her sins so she can move forward and walk the path that Jesus Christ has laid out for us!”
And I change my mind, he’s getting pushed off the next cliff I see.
“Now deary, I can see they’re both being a little overwhelming right now.” Oh thank god, Granny here to save the day. “Why don’t you come with me and we can get you baptized and I’ll get you a clean pair of clothes.” Baptized...? What? “Then we can set up an appointment with the priest so you can do your confessions!” She smiles hopefully at me. I glare pessimistically back.
“And what about you?” I ask Old Man sitting directly in front of me. My voice sounds hoarse, like I’ve just spent the past hour screaming. “What are you here to offer me?” I stare at him blankly, face relaxed, body as relaxed as possible in this odd sort of slouch I’ve got going on. The exact same stare he’s been giving me.
He smirks. “I’m here to offer you whatever you want to believe in.”
**More can be found on my subreddit: r/AliesStories. I posted parts two and three below and I have additional parts on my subreddit for this story!**
PART TWO AND THREE POSTED BELOW! | 2019-10-08T21:45:42 | 2019-10-08T21:14:58 | 54 | 31 |
[WP] Rewrite a classic fairy tale by telling it backwards. The end is now the beginning.
Inspired by [this SMBC comic.](http://www.smbc-comics.com/index.php?id=4123) | Feeling horribly sleepy, Goldilocks ran as fast as she could into the first forest cottage she could find. Inside were three very unhappy bears, but they took one look at how tired Goldilocks was and decided to let her sleep in the Baby Bear's perfectly sized bed.
Goldilocks woke up a few hours later feeling much refreshed. She decided to do as many nice things for the bear family as she could do. She carefully made the Baby Bear's bed. Then she looked over at the beds of the mother and father bear. The sheets were all messy and wrinkled. Carefully, she straitened out the beds and made them as neat as they could be.
She then slowly climbed down the stairs to find that the bear family's kitchen chairs were all placed haphazardly around the kitchen, except Baby Bear's chair which was broken! Goldilocks sat down with a few tools and several moments later, Baby Bear's chair was as good as new! She carefully placed all the chairs at the table where they belonged.
It was at that point in time that the bear family came home after their morning walk/hunt.
"Look!" exclaimed the Papa Bear, "someone has fixed Baby Bear's chair and arranged them all in perfect feng shui around our kitchen table!"
"Look!" exclaimed the Mama Bear, "someone has made all of our beds!"
"Look!" exclaimed the Baby Bear, "that someone is still here!"
And he pointed at Goldilocks who had been hiding behind the door.
"It was me," said Goldilocks," I came in here earlier feeling so tired, so I slept in one of your beds. In return, I fixed the small chair and made everyone's beds."
Baby Bear spoke up, "But now the problem is that we didn't find anything on our walk-hunt and we're all out of porridge."
"Mmm, honey porridge," Papa Bear licked his chops remembering, "Boiling hot, just like I like it."
"I do prefer it as a nice and cool treat," commented Mama Bear.
"I like my porridge warm and tasty," said the Baby Bear.
"Well," started Goldilocks, "I don't usually tell people this, but being a forest child, I have a magic power."
And without further ado, Goldilocks vomited boiling hot porridge for the Papa Bear, icy cold porridge for the Mama Bear, and luke warm porridge for the Baby Bear."
The bears looked at their bowls, now overfilling with porridge, and then to Goldilocks who was daintily wiping her mouth.
"Right, then. Who wants to go on another walk-hunt?" asked Papa Bear.
"Me! I do!" said Mama Bear and Baby Bear at the same time while looking a little sick and pallid.
And without further ado, the bears left their cottage once again, making sure to lock all the doors and windows before turning over an old oil lamp on the porch and setting the whole thing ablaze.
"I'm glad we didn't decide to try and eat that golden-haired girl," said Papa Bear as the family hastily walked away from the burning inferno and the screams within, "Why who knows what kind of caustic boiling liquid that witch child would have spat into our faces?"
*The moral of the story is: Don't anger magic forest children for they could have magic powers and vomit up boiling liquids right into your face.* | Peter sits in the middle of the field, knees pressed to his chest, rocking back and forth. The sheep's sonorous bleats swell over him. They're almost indistinguishable from the last flock's, and yet, there's something different about them. "It's your fault," they baa, "How dare you show your face again? Give us a real guardian!"
He is interrupted from his reverie by a rustle in the bushes. "Wolf, wolf!"
All the doors in a 500-foot radius swing open. The townspeople stampede to the field, knives, hammers, candlesticks in hand.
"Where is it?"
But the rustle is gone. Peter shrugs. Some people shoot him looks of pity; others glower at him impatiently. Everyone lowers their arms and begins to make their way back to their workplaces.
There is no wolf. There never is.
But after that one incident, they'll all come running if he shouts. | 2016-05-27T16:20:13 | 2016-05-27T16:00:41 | 25 | 14 |
[WP] In a desperate fight for survival, the main character has no strength left, no weapons, and no hope. In desperation, they bite the zombie. And this, ironically, is the cure. | *Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh FUCK.*
This is really not how I wanted to go.
I mean, I knew the chances of going out like this were high, but fuck man. I never thought I’d be a statistic. For fuck’s sake, *Molly is going to outlive me.* Molly, fucking MOLLY who shot herself in the foot last week—
But let me get back to the situation at hand here,
or should I say at mouth. (Get it? Get it?- oh fuck it.)
My day has quite literally gone to shit. My *brilliant* squad leader Davis, in his never ending *wisdom*, deemed the sewer system was the best way to enter Los Angeles for our supply run; fuckwit watched one too many episodes of The Walking Dead before things went to shit I suppose. To make a shitty story short, Los Angeles may be the city of angels but I can vouch from personal experience that it’s sewer system is most certainly is holding open the gates of Hell.
So now here I am. Up to my knees in eight month old sewer sludge, completely unarmed, as Davis had been rationing bullets when the dead descended on us—
The shrieks of the dead ricochet off the walls, interrupting my train of thought. *They’re close, so close.* This isn’t the first time I’ve faced the undead, but it is the first time where I know I won’t see tomorrow. At least not as myself…
I steady myself against the sewer wall as a creature rounds the corner, flailing it’s pale limbs. *You’ve got to be fucking me.* Davis.
This is even worse than dying before Molly.
The world slows as Dan races into me, knocking us both into the rotting sludge. I brace my arms against Davis’ shoulders, really just stalling the inevitable at this point. I was either going to drown in shit, or eaten alive by the shittiest human being (and apparently zombie) I had ever known.
I thought of everyone I’d lost to bites, everyone lost to the dead. Their faces flashing through my mind, faster and faster as my anger grows and surges through my body, No. *Not like this, not like them.*
I defended myself the first way I could think of.
As I sink my teeth into Davis’ neck, I cringe as the taste of dead flesh and sewer water assault my taste buds; the vile concoction electrifying my nerves and giving me the strength to shove Davis’ limp body to the side.
As I vomit up this morning’s breakfast, I marvel at my very being, my aliveness. *I can’t believe that worked I can’t!*—
A moan from behind me causes me to snap back to reality. As I turn, ready to curb-stomp the SHIT out of zombie-Davis to finish him off, and there he is. *What even*…
I slowly approach a now VERY-alive looking Davis. Clutching his head with his right hand, and stemming the flow of blood from his neck with his left, he looks to me puzzled.
“Marie? What is, why? Where are we? What happened?”
I drop to my knee in front of Davis, inspecting his features and re-reanimated state.
“Well Davis, for starters you have **royally** fucked up. But lucky for us both, I think I have a solution.” | When answers to questions subvert
our intuition, they remain undiscovered
until an accident, an idiot, a madman,
slices through the Gordian Knot.
A knot tied to the human heart
to undue the scars and blood soaked tongue plaguing us,
grown in our bodies, the fertilizer of flesh fed
and feeding, falling and rising.
Will they remember? I hope not.
Lead them astray from their sad capabilities
and claim that this was only a dream, the dead bodies
in the street, killed by another.
I bite the man that bit me, so
brutally, that I feel the roots of my teeth press
against their setting. My condemned teeth, their condemned roots.
"...the roots that clutch..." Oh...Eliot...
My eater's discolored flesh glows
brighter, as if alive. The light is spreading over
the surface, and as he grows brighter, I feel my light
dim. "...what branches grow...son of man..."
----------------------
Edit: "is" to "this" + formatting
| 2015-03-09T20:24:23 | 2015-03-09T19:23:48 | 116 | 18 |
[WP] For most of college everyone thought you were deaf when in reality you just don't like talking and learned sign language at a young age. You never corrected anyone until someone confessed their love for you, thinking you couldn't hear them. | It started when Mom died.
I don't know where I got the idea from, but mostly I didn't want to talk to anyone. Problem was, I'd just started school and when you're a first year freshman at a university right out of high school, they have so many programs and initiatives to keep you engaged so you won't drop out after a semester or two. They say they want to help their students succeed in life and of course they do. How else can they bleed us dry of thousands of dollars a year and then beg for donations for poor, unfortunate students when we get our grown up jobs. Not to mention that every class is full of new students who want to get to know some of the folks they'll likely be spending the next four to five years with. And they just don't stop talking and all I wanted was for everyone to shut up because for those first few months, all my grief and anxieties leaked out of my mouth every time it opened.
So I just stopped opening my mouth. Stopped talking. Stopped responding. I got so tired of parting my lips and loosening my jaw and accidentally letting my mom's car wreck fall out and then I'd have to hastily and awkwardly stuff it back down my throat.
It didn't take long for people to catch on that I wouldn't answer them. After they overcame the initial shock, one by one, the students and faculty lost interest. Someone must have asked what my deal was, someone else asked if I was deaf, a third person took that as an answer instead of a guess, and the rest is history. I became the deaf student.
Well, that's not exactly true. There was a girl -- Julia. She and I shared almost entirely the same class schedule. That was inadvertent. Julia was deaf, genuinely, and the university provided her with ASL interpreters for each class. Very generous and accommodating of them.
Rather than watch my professors lecture and pace about their podiums with authority, my eyes stayed glued on the interpreters. I only understood a few signs at first, having learned some ASL as a kid; watching them weave words of sound into flowing signs with their fingers, their eyebrows, their entire bodies was far more interesting than anything I could hear. Over the course of a semester, my chosen seat came closer and closer to Julia's, simply so I could watch. Soon enough, I could even sign a sentence or two coherently on my own. At least, Julia seemed to understand me.
Unintentionally, I became deaf. And not just at school. In my dorm, I just didn't listen to music. I wasn't one who cared to watch TV shows, but the occasional video I did watch, I turned off the sound and preferred to read captions. I didn't even react to my roommates' alarms, to their late night partying, to their blasting death metal at 3 in the morning.
Maybe this is where I made my mistake. I was absolutely consistent in my 'disability' in every moment that someone could have been observing me. And in every moment where no one could possibly be.
I remember the day I heard her tell me she loved me. I was studying for an exam in the library. I'd booked a study room and it was at such an hour that hardly anyone else was in the building with me, and not a single person was withing a hundred feet of me. I am absolutely certain of this fact.
"Carson," she said in my ear. "I love you."
Months of practice of nonresponsiveness is what saved me in that moment. I knew this voice; it rattled me to my core. But my muscle memory kept me entirely focused on the task at hand while my mind went into shock.
*Mom.*
I didn't turn around to see where her voice came from. For a moment, I toyed with the idea that my vow of silence had driven me mad. But even if that were the case ... I still wanted to hear her --
"I love you much, kiddo." Her voice was thick with emotion. I crossed out a line of numbers and started over with the math problem. "I don't know if you know that, and it's killing me that --"
"Carol, stop!" I didn't recognize this second voice. She hissed at my mother, cutting her off.
"Carson's gone deaf," she tried to explain.
"That's not an excuse." This second woman sounded like such an authority figure. "What if someone heard you? Come on."
Mom's voice didn't come back. Whoever was with her must have taken her away from me. Hopefully temporarily. I finished my study session early that evening. With any luck, my roommates would be out partying and I'd have the room to myself so I could break down in tears in privacy.
I think my deaf act is going to have to continue long after I graduate. It's not often, but here and there, I hear voices when the hallway is absolutely empty or the room is deserted. And they're not always my mom.
I guess she's not the only ghost who needs to unload onto someone who can't hear. | Patience and Pressure. Everyone lacks patience. Everyone applies pressure....at least to me.
To say “I am an average joe” would be a bold face lie. As soon as people see me, they know that I am different. That is why I have social anxiety. Which feels like my brain is restarting when I’m in front of others. Because of that many people label me stupid. That’s not the case when I am around others who are patient. Because when I am alone, with my family, or with a fellow signer, I am brilliant. That’s why I sign.
Out of all the languages that I could have learned to better help me translate my thoughts, sign language caught my eye. Early on, I was made aware of aloof fate’s ability to touch one with the inability to fully experience sound. Janice was a neighbor of mine born deaf. I remember peering through my window to view her interaction with her parents. Her parents’ mouth would move as if having an exaggerated conversation. However, their hands would gracefully dance across the air as if they were bringing their words to life.
With this motif in mind, sign was the language that I choose to help me translate my thoughts to the world. With the help of my speech therapist, who was an ASL translator part time, I was able to better communicate with my parents verbally and with other who signed. However, everyone else I ignored or stare at wildly as I presented them with my infamous green notebook and grey pen.
If I had a penny for every eye roll, sigh, silent pray, mutter, smack of the lips, and head shake that this notebook faced I would be a rich man. However, your actions would leave me a very poor man. The first time you spoke to me, your eyes admired my notebook rather than engaging in the typical “glare, roll, veer.” You have always been patient with me as I wrote down my thoughts. You’ve written so many things that encouraged me and were nothing but kind to me. We have shared so many laughs and deeps thoughts that my heart yearns for you when you’re away. When you looked me in the eye and said that you loved me, I had to sign it back. I wanted to bring my words, my love, for you to life.
However, I wanted to be true to you. I'm sorry for deceiving you. That is why I am here stammering, and uhhing and grasping on to my notebook as I scan a word and guide it out of my mouth. That is why I wanted you to hear my voice. I wanted to tell you my truth. I wanted to tell that I love you. | 2020-12-01T17:55:52 | 2020-12-01T17:22:56 | 79 | 57 |
[WP] You are a Batman like hero who refuses to kill you're villains. Which you get no small amount of hate for. Then a D list villain killed someone you loved. Filed with rage, you don't just want to kill them. You want to make an example of them | They named me super-circuit. My super power was to make any type of circuit board and machinery out of random trash, for any type of operations, from super computer board to simple toaster, from vacuum cleaner to delicate medical machines. And yes, that included the beloved super-capturor-2002, which i had used in the past to put many in Prison.
You see, as a policy I don't kill anybody. Which attracted a lot of jeers and angers from those which think some may have earned death from their actions. "You are a coward" they clamored, and similar attempt to ply me to their opinion through insults. But I never let myself stray from the path I had decided to stay on.
But here he was. Mister Q, the well known super villain, his specialty being to humiliate sups, to force them to do something against their own morality. He was in the center of the crossing with cameras pointed at him, half cubic meter box near him.
"I see you accepted my invitation.... Super-circuit."
He had this disgusting grinning smile, a signature move of his, one creeping even sups. Rumor of his declining health non withstanding, he seemed still strong enough to stand by his own.
"You may have heard rumor of my soon to be.... retirement. Well I decided to have you as my final test subject on the world. "
He coughed a little bit. Then looked slowly at the audience, all the news he invited, their camera pointing alternatively on me, and him.
"You hid the existence of your daughter very well" he said softly, caressing the small wooden box. I shuddered. Drop of bloods where slowly filtering from side of the wooden box.
"don't bother trying to call her." he opened the box.
Vertigo. The world dropped under my feet. My eyes were locked on the box content. I could not breath. Then slowly fury started.
Q smiled.
"Yes, let the anger fill you."
I slowly forced my sight in his direction. I told him in a surprisingly normal voice : "no I will NOT kill you".
Then I went to pick up the box, and left him.
\----------------------------
My power are very strange. I can build a machine and "give up" a little bit of my life, a few months, then as soon as I stop using that machine, the life energy comes back to me, like being paid toward the machine and being reimbursed once the machine is destroyed.
But I can also give up some of my life permanently...
I had to work quickly, as I had to make sure Q did not die before the time.
\----------------------------
"ha , now it was your time to invite me ?" slowly told Q, "are you ready to show your true colors ? By the way I like the new white hairs.".
All the news camera were pointed in my direction. Those vulture are always bemoaning the villain action but they are the one which gives them a platform.
I told Q "there is something you need to understand. I. Don't. kill. ".
Then I pressed a button on my tool belt. From far away came my machine, built specially for Q.
Q looked intrigued. "So this it. You will kill me with a big square drone ?". Then looked again. "transparent drone ? what is this...".
But before he could finish, crystal arm sprung out of the hades-45, they immediately injected some substance in the neck of Q. Then another set of arms opened the skull, and with efficient agile move cut the spinal cord, and inserted the brain in the chambers. Immediately tubs and cable connected.
"Congratulation Q. You will survive me. This chamber has been specially made for type like you. The wall of the drone are in crystal neutronium. Nothing can breach them, not even another sups. The power source use vacuum fluctuation energy and will continue working beyond the end of the universe. The nanobots will repair it infinitely, and some of them will repair your DNA, your cells, and make sure no cancer happens."
I paused a bit my long tirade.
"You will live. Be conscious. For ever. Even I cannot anymore stop the machine. I paid the price in full."
I turned toward the journalist.
"I don't kill. Yes."
I smiled.
"I don't do it, because death would not be a punishment enough". | "Yahahahaha" Cellulite was monologing like a great villain does.
"Try to break in here and take me out Whitecoat. This bunker is 2 miles deep under solid bedrock. Laser traps, mania bombs, blue fire and a 10 feet solid steel door. Nobody will make it in here"
Cellulite of course knew that nobody could hear him, but a villain keeps up their persona even when alone. Once this was over he was sure to be invited to the league of villains. After all this is why he did what he did, to make Whitecoat notice him.
"Ohh I don't need to break in there" A voice came out of the speaker.
"What do you mean? Is that you Whitecoat? How did you get into my system?" Cellulite asked.
"You know" spoke Whitecoats voice "There are rules when it comes to villains. I don't kill them and in turn they leave my friends and family alone. You broke that rule"
Suddenly the rooms lights turned red. A measure Cellulite was sure to include to signal a hacked system.
"How did you get into my system? What are you doing Whitecoat?" Cellulite was starting to feel anxious, this isnt how Whitecoat usually acts.
"I asked my old nemesis Ego-X the super hacker for a favor and he was all too happy to oblige. He locked down your system and anyone will be able to watch you live through your cameras." Whitecoat said in a cold voice.
"Wait that wasn't..." Cellulite began
"You said nobody will get in there. Frankly I don't believe anyone will even try. As for you, I feel like you will not get out of there either. Goodbye whatever your name was"
This was the last transmission Cellulite received by Whitecoat. He could do nothing but sit in a cell of his own making and slowly succumb to death as the world watched.
And thus, every up and coming villain rembers one thing. Whitecoats personal life is off-limits! | 2022-12-07T07:15:30 | 2022-12-07T05:52:58 | 31 | 20 |
[WP] You are the final boss. You have been waiting for the final epic battle against the hero. And waiting. And waiting. Finally, your minions report back. The news? The hero abandoned the main quest to do side quests. | I stand atop my lair gazing out onto the wastes that surround it, scouring the landscape for signs of my enemy's approach. Fire belches from my twisted demonic lungs with every breath. My vaguely draconic wings flutter and twitch ever so slightly as I prepare myself to take flight at first sight of my foe. My spiked tail swishes back and forth in excitement, unable to contain my anticipation. The day I’ve waited for has finally arrived, the moment that will allow me to fulfill my destiny is almost upon us.
Days ago I received word that the so called “Hero” had discovered my true identity and my personal responsibility for his family’s death. It was the happiest moment of my dark and dreary existence. It was said that he was enraged, and was making his way to my domain to confront me with all possible speed.
At least it seemed so, but as the hours and days passed I began to doubt the actual speed of his advance toward me. Had his horse died? Had he broken a leg? What could possibly have delayed him from arriving at our monumental confrontation for so long?
Throughout these unnerving days, I had sent many of my scouts back out to keep an eye on his progress, and now I demanded answers from one of them.
“Why has he not arrived? Why am I *still* waiting for my destiny to be fulfilled? WHERE IS HE?”
The tiny, lesser demon before me cowered as I all but roared my questions at him.
“Lord Belzanarr,” it began in a wavering voice. “The Hero is… he appears to be in Westmarsh.”
“Westmarsh?! That’s hundreds of miles from here, and in the opposite direction!”
“Yes, my lord,” it replied. “Days ago he suddenly halted his charge toward your lair, turned around abruptly and rode off toward the west with all possible speed.”
“What game is he playing? Is there some demon slaying sword of legend residing in a cavern in Westmarsh that I am unaware of? Or a mystical ally who could aid him in bringing about my downfall?”
“No, he appears… we have reliable knowledge that he…" the demon stuttered before finding his resolve. "I saw it with my own eyes, my lord. He is in Westmarsh killing rats and gathering ingredients for an elaborate stew.”
“Rats… and an elaborate stew…” I repeated with genuine confusion. "Is is a magical stew that will empower his attacks or provide him with resistance to my flames?" I asked hopefully.
The demon checked his notes and shook its head. "Reports are that it is a turnip stew, my lord. It requires many ingredients that can take hours to gather, but still just a turnip stew nevertheless."
“A turnip stew? I cannot imagine a more common and unremarkable cuisine!" I said with mounting frustration. "Slaying rats and stew making are tasks far below a hero of his stature, does he have no choice in this matter? Was he… ordered to complete these quests by his king's royal decree or something of the sort?”
“I’m afraid not, Lord Belzanarr,” it told me. “While stopped at a small town to resupply on his journey here, he found a shabby looking note pinned to a board outside his inn. He read it, then set off immediately in the opposite direction toward Westmarsh. I read the note and brought it for you to see for yourself, my lord.
He handed it to me. It read simply, “Westmarsh Bounty: Slay 30 rats. Reward: 5 silver pieces.”
“Five silver pieces…” I repeated several times as my anger grew. “FIVE MEASLY SILVER PIECES HAVE DERAILED OUR CLIMACTIC BATTLE FOR THE FUTURE OF OUR SOULS AND THIS ENTIRE REALM?!”
I raged on for minutes on end until a second demonic scout came flying in, interrupting my very justifiable temper tantrum.
“My lord!” it exclaimed. “The Hero has departed Westmarsh!”
“While I remain thoroughly insulted by his priorities, that is indeed welcome news. How long until he arrives on my doorstep for our final confrontation?”
“He… is still not headed this direction,” the second demon replied warily.
My head came to rest in my hand, utterly defeated. “Well? Where *is* he headed?” I mumbled.
“The Hero saw an advertisement for 'new content' promising an entire undiscovered new realm full of new quests, adventures, and… greater foes and bosses to slay. He paid a handsome sum and boarded a boat for this new landmass.”
“GREATER foes and bosses?!” I shouted as I flew into an uncontrollable rage. My palms glowed and swirled with otherworldly dark energy as I banished both demon scouts back to the hellish realms from whence they came. My furious, primal screams echoed throughout the halls. Utterly infuriated, I stomped and smashed the floors and walls until chunks of the structure of my lair were crumbling down around me.
Eventually I composed myself, but only briefly. His actions were an unthinkable affront to my role as leader of all the forces of evil in this realm. If it was a psychological war this hero was waging against me, then for the moment at least, he was certainly winning.
___
Check out r/Ryter if you want to be derailed by your very own side quest!
Goal: Read more stories.
Reward: Uhh, I dunno... hopefully some more laughs and entertainment : ) | "What do you mean he's *'baking'*? After he got through the Caves of Armond, there is only one path! To me! How could he be **baking**?!"
"He turned around and went back through the caves, my liege."
"But *WHY*?!"
"As you know, we have several agents in the various 'quiet' places in our world, to know what the common folk are up to. He has apparently been going about the villages learning and perfecting the various crafts they offer. That is why he is now in Backen; he wishes to learn their crafts."
"You're dodging my question still, Henry. **WHY**!"
"I believe one of our plants heard him say 'for the experience.'"
"What experience? What is happening right now. We've never had anyone abandon the path this far into our little game. What could have possessed him to do so?"
"People sometimes find fulfillment in more places than conquering my l-"
"Oh shut up Henry. Well, what do we do now? You're *supposed* to be the strategist, you know."
"*sigh* Yes, my liege. I suppose we must expose ourselves - convince him to continue his journey, so that all of our fates may be fulfilled."
"Fine! I'll do it, so that none of you can screw it up. I, Lord Diavolos do many things, but I do **not** fail!""
*At the bakery, chimes ring above the door*
"Ah, excuse me baking people, I am in search of one of your new apprentices. I believe his name is Duke?"
"Yes yes. Duke, to the front!"
*A tall, rugged looking man pops through the door to the kitchen*
"Oh hello! I'm Duke! Pleasure!"
"Ah, yes. Good. And what is your title, sir?"
"Duke!"
"So you are...Duke Duke?"
"In the flesh!"
"........o*kayyyyy*. I will keep this short, and simple. My name is Lord Diavolos and-"
"Oh! Yeah I was supposed to find you, wasn't I?"
"YES! Thank you. Why haven't you come and killed me yet? Er, I mean, attempted to kill me?"
"Well, what else would I have to do if I did? My story would be done, when I'm at the peak of my vigor!"
"But, that's what you're supposed to do. It's your fate!"
"Psh, my fate is mine! I will get there eventually, but not after I've learned to truly live. I've killed enough of your minions for all the world's lifetimes; now it is time for me."
"But. What about me?"
"You could join me!"
"But I don't eat bread! Too many carbohydrates."
"Then join me on my next quest, Diavolos! I will be done here shortly; today, even!"
"And what quest is that?"
"I'm going to learn to *dance*!"
...
"I did always want to learn how to tango." | 2019-06-26T10:45:29 | 2019-06-26T10:44:21 | 1,511 | 270 |
[WP] On the run from mercenaries, a young girl stumbles into an old Greek temple and in a last ditch effort to save herself, begs for help from whichever god or goddess it belongs to. She didn't expect them to show up in person. | She ran like she’d never run before. The idle, panicky thought that she’d broken all her old track records flirted through her mind as she dashed through the broken, rock-strewn terrain. The beauty of the West Virginia mountains was lost on her as she heard the men closing in as her stamina flagged.
Bursting into a clearing, she gasped, peering around for somewhere to hide, but all that remained of some long-abandoned farmstead was a ruined stone forge, a few bits of scattered metal thrusting from its darkened maw.
She cursed herself, all her years of study, engineering, mathematics and science useless compared to brutes with guns. Leaning against the stonework of the forge, she muttered an almost unbidden prayer to nobody in particular. If she got out of this she’d never waste her skills again, she’d make the world a better place, invent something to help mankind if only she lived long enough to do so.
She heard the distant crackle of a radio as they closed in, and an odd calm came over her, accompanied, oddly, by the fleeting memory of her ancient history coursework, of Hephaestus, god of the forge. God of all forges, came an unbidden thought, as he eyes flicked to the bits of metal almost at her fingertips.
The first of the men, dressed in the Walmart-bought camouflage, never saw the trap until the sharp snap sent a foot long metal rod into his throat. His weak gargling did nothing to warn his companion, a few yards away.
The second, the bright red and blue insignia on his cap the only relief from the Realtree of his garb saw her a moment before she slammed the stone against his face, his shotgun firing into the woods with deafening volume, hitting nothing as he fell to all fours, dazed. She raised the rock, and brought it down again.
The third man dashed for his companions, calling for them into the radio. He emerged into the clearing, and raised his gun towards the girl. “Just put it down now.” He instructed, seeing his companion’s shotgun in her hand, pointed his way. “A fancy college girl like you ain’t got no business with something like that.” Adrenaline surged through him as he realized her hands were covered in blood, and the MIT sweatshirt she wore was speckled with red dots that hadn’t been there before. “Dan? Pat? Answer me.”
No reply came, and he glared at her. “The fuck did you do, bitch? All we wanted was a little fun! Jeezus!”
She stared at him, her eyes cold and her breathing quick and shallow. “-This- isn’t fun for you?” She hissed out, hoping she sounded less breathless and panicky than she was.
“You crazy bitch!” He squeezed the trigger. -Click-. Nothing. The shell was a dud.
She squeezed her trigger. The sound deafened her further, and as the man crumpled to the ground, she fell to all fours, whispering silent thanks to a god she wasn’t sure existed.
-20 years later-
“And now we go to Kate Mallory in Houston.”
“Thank you Dave, behind me you can see the Hephaestus probe, designed to conduct the first large scale mineral surveys of Mars in preparation for human colonization, and I’m here with its lead designer Jeanette Willson.”
“Thank you Kate, if you could speak up a bit, I’m a bit deaf.” | "Well this is a surprise. No one has come to this shrine in thirty years."
Of course I'm on the run from mercenaries who have just slaughtered my whole village, but apparently that was not the weirdest thing the gods planned for today. Standing in front of me was Nemesis.
"Why are you here? No one talks to ME anymore."
"I'm so sorry, my lady, it's just these guys sort of killed everyone I know and they were about to kill me to and-"
"Slow down. I will assist. Thank you for thinking to pray to me, I haven't have fun in a while."
I'm not going to tell her I didn't know this was her's, and she went right up to the army.
THEN SHE KIND OF KILLED EVERYONE AND YEAH REVENGE I GUESS BUT STILL
She came back over to me with blood on her silky robes. She used a wheel for a cart to kill them which is brutal.
"Did this give you justice? Because it certainly brought me satisfaction. Let me know if you need more help in the future."
I blinked and she was gone. | 2020-06-15T23:06:00 | 2020-06-15T19:33:10 | 24 | 17 |
[WP] You die and find yourself in hell, where apparently everyone spends time to negate their sins before they go to heaven. The guy in front of you, who cheated on his wife, gets 145 years. Feeling like you led a fairly average and peaceful life, you’re not worried. You get 186,292 years. | "But I don't see how that's possible! I never *killed* anyone! I never stole, I never even hurt an animal, I lived a simple, boring life. I don't claim to be perfect, but how could I be that evil?"
The man leaned back in his chair. "It doesn't really work that way. People like to imagine that there are big actions that decide your fate, and that's true to an extent, but in reality we use a point system. Every action you took, every single decision you made, they all had a point value, either positive or negative. It's not that you did any one major bad thing to get you here, you just did a huge number of *tiny* bad things.
"Like what?"
The man reached into a desk drawer and pulled out a thick file folder. "Let's see. Just off the top of the list: you never used your turn signal. That's five points off per violation, and you drove for nearly forty years. You refused to tip at restaurants out of principle and you snapped at the waiters to get their attention. That's nearly a hundred points off every time you ate out. You listened to music without headphones when you used public transportation, ten points per minute. You took your shoes off on airplanes. In the last election you cast a write-in vote for someone called "Pickle Rick". Your last three cars were a Nissan Juke, a Chrysler PT Cruiser, and a Pontiac Aztec-
"That's insane! None of those things should be that important. If those are the worst things I did how could that possibly add up to 200,000 years?"
"Your sentence *is* a bit on the high end for your crimes, but then most people are able to balance the negatives with positives. You didn't really do that. Yes, you lived a quiet and simple life, but in this case that hurt you more than it helped you. You never did anything that had a significant positive effect on the world. You never helped anyone, you never affected change outside of your personal life, you never even made anything that others appreciated. It looks like the single most positive thing you did was the one single day that you volunteered to help build houses for hurricane victims. Huh, that's kind of out of character for you."
"That was actually an accident, they asked for volunteers at work one day and I thought I would get paid for it..."
"See, that's what I mean. Apart from that the most positive thing you did was make a handful of Internet memes that made some people smile. That's a nice start but it doesn't begin to outdo all the bad."
"So there's nothing I can do? I'm doomed to suffer for 200,000 years and that's it?"
The man thought for a moment. "Well, we *do* have a pilot program we've been working on. Basically you would devote time here in the afterlife to learning how to become a better person in order to reduce your sentence. It's still in the early stages and we're not even sure how it will pan out yet, but you seem like an ideal candidate. It will require serious self-improvement effort on your part though, it's not just a walk in the park."
"I'm willing to try anything at this point. So how does it work?" | The being loomed other me. It's foul breath still lingered in the air from it's spoken judgment on me. Just a second ago I had been suffocated by the heat, now my body ran cold. I could feel the icy sweat trickling down my lower back.
"Wait. What? Let me get this straight. That asshole get 145 years for cheating on his wife," pointing to the man now being lead away by an imposing scaled creature to his almost century and a half of punishment.
"One hundred and fucking forty-five years! For breaking a holy bond made before God. You know, the whole 'Forsaking all others, 'tll death do you depart' shit. But me! No, I get a fucking 186,292 years for cursing!"
I could see another one of the scaled creatures coming toward me out of the corner of my eye.
"You have got to be fucking kidding me." | 2018-09-26T07:56:17 | 2018-09-26T07:45:11 | 101 | 18 |
[WP] A man who has lived a thousand years takes up a job teaching high school world history. | "Class dismissed." I said, before my mouth ran dry. "Casey, please stay a moment."
His eyes went wide with fear, although there was no reason for him to worry. He wasn't in trouble as much as I was.
The last other student left, and I looked at Casey without saying a word. He broke the silence.
"Mr. Jones? Is this about the test?" he asked.
It was. He was the first student who got all the questions right. Even the last one.
Getting 100 of 100 points is no uncommon feat. I'm a bad teacher, and my exams are usually far too easy. But no one ever gets the bonus question right. Of course, there are many answers which are worth the full score, but the truth.. well, the truth gets you summoned to my table after class. I fished the exam out of my bag and started to read aloud.
"Bonus Question (3 Points): When and how did Genghis Khan die?
Khan died on august the 18th 1227, when Mr. Jones decapitated him in revenge for burning down his village."
He shifted around on his chair. "Well, I thought it would be funny...."
"The smell of burning flesh wasn't that fun. The sight of the horsemen, trampling down my family wasn't that fun. Everything I had held dear, burning before my eyes... it wasn't that fun, I can tell you that."
I was a little bit lost in the past. This always happens to me, when I think back to this fateful day. To be honest: even when I finally got that bastard, when my steel went through his neck, like an metaphor for something very sharp through a metaphor for something very soft... it was more exhausting than uplifting.
The boy gulped, a sound which brought me back into the present. Maybe it was just a lucky guess. Sometimes students try to bullshit their way through the exams. Sometimes they don't even try - they just write something funny. But Casey wasn't the type for that. Too shy. "Why did you write that?" I asked.
"Because I told him to."
I turned myself slowly towards the door. The man who was standing there was wearing the most clichéd British outfit I have ever witnessed: bowler hat. Fly. Jacket. And of course an umbrella.
"Dad." Casey said, unsure if he should be glad or worried about the presence of the man. The unspoken question must have been written all over my face.
"My Step-Son." Caseys dad explained. He then turned his attention to Casey. "Mr. Jones and I have business to take care of. I think he won't mind if you go home now." He paused himself for a moment.
Casey looked at me. I nodded slightly, so he stood up. By instinct, he knew that this clasroom was at this moment no longer a place for mortals. When he was almost at the door, his father put hand on his shoulder. "Tell your mother I love her, will you?"
For a moment, Casey was reluctant to leave. But while his mind revolted, his legs obeyed and carried him out of the room.
I had some sympathy for Casey and his dad. But still: I like teaching history way more than becoming history.
After he left, there was a moment of silence. There is far too much silence in my life. lately.
"Nice umbrella." I finally said. "You don't see the hidden blade, even if you know what you're looking for."
He nodded. "I like to dress sharply."
Sword canes are nice, but they are not my style. I prefer my broadsword, although I've always feared that the tape that was holding it to the back of the blackboard would fail some day. There would have been awfully much explanation to do, even for a history teacher.
So, I went for my blade as he drew his.
For a moment we stood there, studying our enemies. Finally, Caseys dad lifted his sword. He yelled as he jumped towards me:
"There can be only one!"
*****
^(I'm sorry if there are too many errors, I'm not a native speaker and just wanted to grab this opportunity to write bad highlander fanfiction) | The school bell rang, but by some miracle, the sixth graders in classroom 102 didn't rush out like a pack of rabid dogs.
Principal Reba Edgerton, curious, entered the room. The teacher had all eyes on him. What was his name... James Monroe! One of the new hires. He was giving a speech, voice quiet and forcing the children to lean in to hear. Reba found herself leaning in as well.
"Oh yes, Stonewall was a real *cunt*."
"James!" Reba gasped. The students didn't laugh or look shocked, they took it in stride, as though he'd said it a hundred times.
"Yes?" The teacher straightened his back and looked at Reba.
"What did you just say?" She asked.
"I said," he looked at the class, exaggerating his words. "Stonewall Jackson liked to hunt."
"Oh..." she nodded and waved a hand. "Carry on."
"Now," he continued. "I hear a lot about Napoleon's genius, but I knew the bast-"
"You *knew* Napoleon?" Reba interrupted.
"Well," he replied. "Not *personally*. Anyway, the guy got banished twice, somehow on his third time being re-welcomed into France, he was an even *bigger* asshole then before."
"James!"
The teacher turned to her, puzzled look on his face.
Reba blinked. On one hand, she could get rid of the insane and dirty-mouth teacher, but the kids seemed to have actual interest in the class. One the other hand, she could keep him in and have the students appreciate school, but letters would come pouring in.
She let out a short breath before speaking. "How big of an asshole was he?"
James smiled and turned to the kids. "I knew his father and as a child, Napoleon..."
| 2015-04-14T16:41:11 | 2015-04-14T14:24:26 | 77 | 47 |
[WP] Two years ago the sun winked out, utterly without warning. You are a member of one of the last human settlements on earth, huddled around a geothermal vent in Iceland. This morning, again without warning, the Sun rose. | Day seven-hundred fifty-three post-sun. Andri did not wake up this morning. That brings our numbers down to nineteen. Five children, thirteen adults, and one stubborn elder. We will take care of Andri’s body after breakfast. In life, he told stories of a glorious future still to come; in death, he will fertilize our crop room.
No one had known what was about to happen seven-hundred and fifty-three days ago: not the world governments, not the scientific community, not the religious leaders of the world. Even the conspiracy theorists and doomsday preppers were unprepared for the sun to go out.
We were lucky. All of us who worked at the Hellisheidi Power Plant lived nearby. When the sky went dark that day and the news stations went berserk, we called our families to come over right away. Most of them got here in time.
With the sun gone, everything went cold. Not just Iceland cold, but instantaneous frostbite, petrol frozen in pipes cold. This temperature drop happened in minutes. It took three days before the air outside was too cold for anyone to travel. We lost four members of our group that day. They had been out looking for survivors and food, but they never came back.
Our numbers were fifty-five the day we could no longer go outside. We had enough food to last about four months. Our first group of scouts had been wise enough to bring back seeds and soil, so we could use light from the reactor to grow beans and potatoes. We shut down all but two of the turbines to use their water for survival. Everything was going about as well as you could hope until day twenty-three post-sun. That’s when we heard the rumbles and crashes from outside. I remember rushing upstairs with some of the others to the security station. We watched, huddled around the monitors as shards of ice rained down upon the world outside. The atmosphere was finally freezing. Cracks appeared in the ceiling. We grabbed anything left upstairs and retreated to the lower levels to the turbine rooms where we were all living.
Life was hard. We had to ration the food carefully. Everyone went to bed hungry. No one knew if anyone or anything else had survived. On day one-hundred thirteen, Sven did not wake up with the rest of us. He had been eight years old. His mother, Freya, hanged herself the next night. They were the first, but not the last.
Day seven-hundred fifty-three. The turbines continue to wane in their energy production. The earth is cooling underneath the crust. At this rate, in another three-hundred and two days the turbines will shut down for good, and we will die. All of humanity will die with us, I believe.
Day seven-hundred fifty-four. I woke up to a splashing sound. Halla had jumped out of her bed and landed in a pool. The whole floor was a pool. Liquid *something* was trickling out of crack in the walls and ceiling, but it sure was not water. I grabbed Ásta, Halla, and Björn to suit up. Liquid could only mean one thing: there was heat on the surface! We waded our way to the old stairwell and pried open the door. A river trickled down the staircase. We started climbing. Four flights later and our way was blocked by rubble. The surface levels of the power plant had been crushed when the sky fell. But we could see light. Light!
Our spirits renewed, we chipped and shoveled and pried a hole big enough to climb through. We scaled the mountain of steel and concrete and stone, cautious but eager. After four hours of climbing and digging, I burst through to the surface. It was blinding. My exposed face started to burn from the radiation but it felt so good. Pulling my goggles up, I squinted and looked around. Something in the sky was burning big and red. But it wasn’t the sun.
••••
Edit: thank you for all of the love! Part two is officially up! [Check it out here.](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/90q9p2/wp_two_years_ago_the_sun_winked_out_utterly/e2ticc4/)
Edit 2: holy cow I never imagined people would want to read what I write, and now I’m gilded! Thank you kind redditor, whoever you are! | It was all without warning.
Two years ago the sun vanished. In the following weeks experts converged trying to find an answer to the mystery that plagued our home, but none could be found. The moon had gone dark, but was still observable through the light pollution from 7 billion people trying to maintain some semblance of normality but that too faded as power grids collapsed. One by one, people started to perish.
Some survivors had the idea to run to the geological “hotspots.” These places where the earth vented heat from its molten core. I was one of those lucky few to make it.
As the first year came to a close, the pockets of survivors became isolated as communication networks broke down, and society collapsed completely. The second year was harsh. A small camp of about 100 huddled around a geothermal vent in a harsh and formidable landscape to the polar north. Supplies dwindled and soon, anything that could be had was worth it, and violence in the camp started to escalate.
That was until today.
I had no way of placing time when a faint glow on the horizon was seen. The camp, in fear for what might be coming, collected together and took up arms on a nearby ridge. The glow grew brighter and brighter, lighting up the sky in shades of orange and yellow. Quickly, people started feeling a burning sensation. Their eyes had not seen a glow this bright in … what felt like forever.
A retreat was called and people raced back to the camp to find shelter. Whispers were had among the group. Fear settled in rapidly.
A pop echoed out, and somebody fell. A second pop. A third.
Stinging. Cold.
I hit the snow covered ground as more and more bodies fell. More pops rang out. The last one standing, shaking, turned the gun to himself.
One final pop.
As my consciousness faded, as the cold slowly got to me, the warmth from the sky covered me.
It was the sun.
Then there was darkness again.
| 2018-07-21T12:34:19 | 2018-07-21T12:33:08 | 1,588 | 14 |
[WP] You, a young adventurer from a fantasy kingdom, wake up one morning to find yourself in another world, in a place known as ‘Texas’. | My dreams had always been weird. Ever since I was a child I’d dreamt of fantastical, and otherworldly things. Like buildings as tall as mountains but as thin as the turrets of a castle, of magical display boxes, and monstrously metal beasts. Of the strange inhabitants of this land, who came in all sizes, shapes and colors, all dressed strangely one after another.
My mother had always said I was crazy, that nothing like these things could ever truly exist, and of course I believed her. What reason had I to disbelieve my sensible mother? And for many years I stopped dreaming of that place.
That is until now, when I awoke to find myself staring down a man astride a horse (thank Prezmyra they had horses in this strange world), wearing a strangely shaped cap with a wide brim, and brandishing what looked like a long stick with holes on the end.
And he was pointing it at me. It didn’t seem like a greeting, it seemed more threatening, but I also was unsure of what the strange stick did so I made myself ready to grab my sword if the need arose.
The man pulled out a small black box and spoke into it, “I found another.” his voice had an odd drawl, but not an unpleasant one.
The box was silent, but he seemed to converse with it. “Yeah...before it gets thinner...Mmm. We’ll be there soon.” he pocketed the device into his strange blue breeches and turned his full attention on me. “Alrighty, gotta take you down to the house. Eva’s gonna wanna meet you,” he gave me a quick once-over, “Can you stand?”
I got to my feet slowly, dusting off my tunic and breeches, making sure my pack was still slung over my shoulder. My sword sat a few feet away, “May I?” I gestured to the sword.
“Mmm, go ahead.” he nodded once.
I gingerly picked it up and with a swift motion I had my prized possession back in its scabbard.
“That’s a pretty fancy sword you got there kid.”
I puffed out my chest proudly, “I forged it with the help of the witches of Hughnar, under the light of a red moon. It is my prized possession.”
“Huh….witches eh?” he nodded sagely, “Well this rile o’ mine was forged by the great wizards Smith, and Wesson.”
I nodded reverently, “I am unsure what your magical weapon does but these wizards must be powerful indeed.”
He chuckled, “Sure kid,” he paused while I finished making sure all that I’d had earlier had come with me, “What’s your name?”
“Aelfwine,” I answered, deeming this man to not be any kind of Fae, for if he was he could easily have magicked me already, “And what shall I call you sir?”
“Brandon.”
“And where am I, Sir Brandon?”
“Texas.”
“I have never heard of Texas.” I said as Sir Brandon dismounted from the horse to walk next to me.
“Mm, don’t suppose you have,” He agreed, “Most of your kind that come through haven’t.”
“Others from my home have been here?” I asked, mesmerized. “I wonder if they dreamt of this world too…?”
Sir Brandon shrugged, “Couldn’t say off the top o’ my head, but you could ask Eva when we get back to the house.”
I nodded, “I will ask this, Lady Eva a great many things I imagine,” We crested a hill and I could see what looked to be a large farmhouse with fenced areas for cattle and livestock around the surrounding valley, “Perhaps she’ll be able to help me understand what I’m doing here.”
The man beside me nodded, “Maybe she can kid. Maybe she can.” was all he said as we made our way towards the prim farmhouse at the basin of the valley. | "This is a strange and fantastical land. Beasts of metal are forged to scream across endless roads carved from mountains to distant worlds. Having obtained such a machine, with only the gold earned from a single dungeon raid, I am able to drive to your window box of meat, and demand my meal from a man in a emblazened hat with the heraldry of this red queen.
"Sir, this is a Wendy's. Did you have an order?"
"I demand meat."
"Do you not understand how this works? Just pull to the second window, my dude." The man in the hat laughed as I approached his windowbox.
"Yes, sir" I said, not understanding.
"I put a couple of Junior bacons and a baconator in there that have been under the heat lamps too long. If I give you this, will you just stop blocking the drive through please?"
"I appreciate the meat but I fear I will continue to block your window box, meatmaster. The middle beasts with helmets of light have surrounded my Avalon and approach with their hand cannons. Would you fight beside me in my hour of need?"
The window closed. I rose from the metal beast to stand alone against my enemies, but was quickly blindsided by a lightning attack.
"What is the charge?" I yell to the gaurdmen as they restrain me. "Eating a meal, a succulent Wendy's meal?"
"Robbing a bank, actually."
"Oh."
\---
For more of my writing, see /r/surinical | 2021-03-24T19:04:54 | 2021-03-24T16:30:40 | 17 | 11 |
[WP] You are permanently stuck invisible. Your significant other is blind. Whenever you both go out in public, to the bypassers your SO is constantly seen as someone possessing a sixth sense but a little weird for talking to themself. This is always highly amusing to you. | The low hanging branches rustled as if the wind were passing through them, the leaves trailing off as if their tips were running off someone's fingers. The world was starting to return to a sense of normal, and with the summer sun shining down from a wide-open sky, many people were out of their homes and taking advantage of this beautiful day. Among them, Anavel.
She walked with a hand in her pocket, her elbow sticking out, the shape of a hand pressed against her skin. Her other hand held on to a picnic basket, wrapped tightly with a red and white checkered blanket, straight out of a fairy tale trope.
In this kind of light, her eyes would shine rather gorgeously, but instead they're blocked out by her shades, hiding the blue beauty underneath. But for what she can't see, she walked rather gracefully, as if guided. Every crack in the path, every person in her way. Not an apology needed to be said as she dodged every passerby coming her way.
She did stop for a minute to reach down to a dog, it's owner apologizing to Anavel as the dog continued to circle around her barking. She'd lay a hand on the dog, and it would fall silent, getting an understanding of the situation around her. But while the dog would stop barking, it would never look at Anavel directly. Instead, the poor pup would stare into the distance, confused, yet certain that there was something more.
Continuing down the path, she let slip, "animals always seem to love you, don't they?" she laughed. The owner of the dog turned back as he lead his canine away, a quizzical look on his face. "Honestly, I don't think we've ever gone anywhere without a dog not running to you." She started to laugh more and more, getting louder as we walked, attracting the attention of other people. "Ever thought of getting one of our own?"
"Well it doesn't have to be a dog. It could be a cat, or even something small like hamster." She responded to the open air. "I just think the house be a little less lonely if there were three of us, you know?"
The people she passed started to turn their heads. Some looking to her ears to see if she was on a call, or had a bluetooth headset in.
"No! No no no no no no no!" Anavels laugh drew all eyes. "I'm not having a baby!"
A mother walking by with her children presesd closer to her husband, the father leading his family away.
"But I mean..." She sighed.
A whisper from an elderly couple, curious, gossiping. This wasn't something new to Anavel of course. Unable to see, she was able to hear more. But most of what she heard from the people around her were nothing but negative. Still, she didn't let it get to her, because at the end of the day, she had something they didn't.
At her destination, she made her way to an open clearing, seemingly paying no mind to the ground below, trusting that it was clear. She laid the blanket down, its four corners planting themselves straight onto the grass. The basket laid on one side of the blanket, the food unpacked. She kept her head forward, watching over the people of the park, playing, laughing, ignoring those that were staring at her with odd looks. But while she couldn't see them, she had a perfect description of what they were doing, where they were, how it seemed their day was going.
"Heads up!" A stray voice from across the way, a frisbee landing right at her feet. "Oh, it's her again..." the voice said hushed. The boy who owned the voice began to walk towards Anavel, intent on picking up his frisbee, but three steps in, she leaned forward and picked up it, standing and aiming towards the group of teenagers playing.
"Forward..." she repeated. With a flick of her wrist, the frisbee flew, flying straight towards the boy, with unnatural accuracy. The boy caught his frisbee, and walked away, staring at Anavel as he returned to his friends, inaudible insults towards her being lost among the sea of voices.
She leaned to the right, her head resting on the shoulders of the air around her. "I know..."
Comforted, she continued her picnic, eating and drinking, enjoying the time that she had. And when it came time to relax, she leaned back to turn her head to the skies, wanting a description of the afternoon clouds, four handprints pressed onto the fabric of the blanket. | (First attempt at writing anything fictional ever, so critique me, but be gentle!)
A man slept alone, laying on a soft throw blanket. He was comfortable and snoring gently, and appeared rather at peace with the world. Suddenly, an alarm clock perched on the night stand clicked, followed by the most obnoxiously british voice declaring:
"Gooooooood morning gents! It's a balmy 86 degrees, with a slight chance for showers in the after--."
An annoyed groan issued out of thin air, followed by an angry smack on the alarm clock, which stopped its weather briefing. There was a brief pause, until a deep yet quiet voice seemed to appear from right next to the sleeping man's ear, from thin air:
"Steve, hon, wake up... Wake up!"
Steve snorted, cleared his throat, and mumbled "What?"
The disembodied voice sounded again. "Today's the day!"
"What do you mean--" Steve sat up, as quick as a flash. "Oh fuck, is it today?"
"Yep!" Steven's fiance sounded giddy. "Today, you get to meet my parents!"
"Please, Chris, Can't we just delay it again? I haven't used the funeral excuse in a while..."
"Nope, you're not getting out of it. If we wait any longer, they'll think we're not actually engaged."
Steve just sighed and slid out of bed, and made his way to the en-suite bathroom, his fingers tracing slightly worn grooves on the wall, a remnant of many similar trips to the restroom. Steve found everything in its proper place, absentmindedly touching his facial cleansers, razor and other such accoutrements found in a typical bathroom. Steve heard the pad of footsteps behind him as Chris used the second sink to follow his own morning ritual. After looking to make sure Steve hadn't left any stray moisturizer, Chris gently guided his fiance down the stairs, although any onlooker would see only one man making his way down.
(I will write more, once I get some pointers from better writers. Thoughts and tips welcome! I know my writing is far from good, but I am working on it every day!) | 2020-06-06T21:42:35 | 2020-06-06T20:47:58 | 1,292 | 88 |
[WP] People believe the Gods decide all of our fates, but they've actually been rolling d20s to make decisions for millions of years | “You see an oasis up ahead. With that perception roll you are able to make out what appears to be a mama velociraptor with several of her kids. You’re all still covered in blood from your previous encounter, and on closer inspection you notice that the mama is beginning to sniff in your direction. What do you do?” Jean-Luc Picard peered over his dungeon master’s screen at the rest of the pantheon, a characteristic smirk on his face.
“Quick question Jean-Luc… At level three I gained a second Chosen dino, but I haven’t chosen one yet. If it’s okay with you, I’m going to say that velociraptors are my second Chosen,” said Yahweh.
“Okay, so you have advantage now on charisma checks against them,” Jean-Luc clarified.
“Guys, don’t attack them, I want them as part of my dino Kingdom,” continued Yahweh.
“Well I am hungry. It is autumn and must eat as much as I can before winter comes. Can I eat them?” asked Shiva.
“You are a triceratops bard, Shiva. You’re a herbivore.”
“But I am the Destroyer of Worlds!”
“Normally, yes, but today you’re a triceratops bard. You inspire the party,” Buddha chimed in.
“Fine.”
“What do you do, Chicken?”
Kitchi Manitou furled their incorporeal brow. “There is nothing for me here.”
“The velociraptor mother starts to approach the party.”
“Can I ask the mother whether it wants to join my Kingdom?” asked Yahweh.
“Okay. What do you say?”
“Can I speak really loud cause of my long Brontosaurus neck.”
“You’re not a Brontosaurus, you’re a Bracchiasaurus. And sure. Why not. What do you say?”
“Cool. I say, ‘Hail, kindred velociraptor, I beseech thee that thee art of my Chosen dinos. Join now my Kingdom of Glory!’”
“Roll charisma.”
Yahweh fished through his pile of dice and picked one out, rolling it sheepishly. “Damn, it’s a 9.”
“That’s a d12, and roll an extra for advantage,” clarified Buddha.
“Oh! Ha! Silly Me. Okay… 18!”
“The mama velociraptor starts to size you up.”
“I throw my shield face down and charge!” yelled Shiva, smashing the table.
Jean-Luc let out a sigh, unable to hide his frustration. “Roll initiative.”
Buddha, Shiva, and Yahweh picked up their d20s and started rolling them. Jean-Luc rolled one for the velociraptors.
“I got a 1,” said Shiva.
“That’s a critical fail, you’ll go last,” said Jean-Luc.
“I got a 1 as well,” said Buddha.
“I didn’t even want to fight! Also a crit fail,” Yahweh decried.
“You’re a party, Yahweh. You can smite Shiva after. So you all crit failed? What about you, Chicken?”
“Nat 20!” shouted Kitchi Manitou, clearly stoked.
Jean-Luc shrugged. “Well, the velociraptor mama also crit failed. Fuck this. An asteroid hits the earth and you all die. Chicken, you survive.”
| Okay then... Lets see this one's conditions at birth.
It's a 10. A lower middle class family, I guess.
Now... Let's see how SPECIAL he is. Simple drill here, just roll the dice and that'll be his score out of twenty. Strength... Three. A wimp, I guess. Off to a bad start. Perception? A five. Gods, he'll be one oblivious human. Endurance? Huh, that's a ten. Not good, but not bad either.
The next scores were no better. I can safely assume that this guy will have no understanding of living beings, will never learn to read anything harder than a pop-up book, and will be slower than a three-legged turtle. Time for the final roll, Luck. I cast the die and watched it roll. When it stopped, I was pleasantly surprised.
Well, this man is going to have a very interesting life. I look forward to observing it.
------------------------------------------------
**Thanks for reading, feedback and criticism is very appreciated.** | 2018-06-28T14:33:32 | 2018-06-28T12:17:18 | 87 | 26 |
[WP] Your grandmother is a sweet older lady that likes to knit you things. One day she buys a couple of "antique" knitting needles in a second hand shop that are actually magic wands. Now she sends you knitted items imbued with magical properties. | “Take care, dear, I hope you enjoy it!” My grandmother waved from the porch steps of her house. Though white paint was chipping off the paneling and the front lawn was an unruly mess of vegetation, the small bungalow had a quaint feel that fit just right with her whimsical personality.
I smiled and waved back, walking away with a scarf in hand.
*Poor Granny*, I thought. *All her hard work, bless her heart, and I’m not going to be wearing this*.
At first glance, it seemed like an ordinary scarf. The daylily wool was expertly stitched, and it felt softer than any blanket I owned. But after the sock fiasco from last month, I knew I couldn’t take the risk any longer. My cheeks flushed in embarrassment at the very thought of the incident.
My family lived down the street from Granny, and so after a few minutes of hasty walking, I stood in front of our familiar oak tree. A gust of wind swayed the massive branches, and several of its golden leaves tumbled to the ground. Phoebe, my younger sister, was drawing on the driveway with her brand new neon chalk set. She heard the crunching beneath my feet and looked up. Almost immediately, her gaze locked onto the fiery garment.
“Sis, did Granny make that?” Though her mouth was in a firm frown, I could see a small spark of curiosity in her eyes.
I gave her a sad nod. “I’m putting it straight up in the attic. We’re not having a repeat of last time.”
“You should burn it. Or better yet, tell Granny she’s making wacko magic things when she knits with those weird sticks.” She turned away, towards her drawings, which I noticed included a giant pair of socks. I didn’t need to see her face to know she was smirking.
I let out a groan, but left it alone and headed inside. She had a point, telling Granny about the occasional magical powers of her knitting needles. Granny had purchased them second-hand a few months back. Not every garment she made was supernatural, but then again, sometimes it wasn’t possible to know they had magic until days or even weeks down the line.
The problem lied in the needles' appearance. They looked identical to the ones our late grandfather had given her for their 35th wedding anniversary, needles that were lost long ago from her messy habits. I couldn’t bear to take away the sheer joy I saw in her whenever she was knitting with them, and I knew my mom thought the same.
Besides, the magic was mostly harmless—mittens that changed your nail polish colour, hats that temporarily gave you feline ears—until those damned socks came along.
I was walking towards our attic when I heard my mom call my name from the kitchen. *She won’t want to see this…* I tossed the scarf onto the sofa and hurried over.
“What’s up?” My mom was grabbing a pan of casserole from the oven, and set it onto the stove top. She pulled off her oven mitts and motioned me towards the sink, which was filled to the brim with dirty dishes. I grimaced.
“Can you load the dishwasher?”
“But dinner’s almost ready.”
“I still need to prepare the salad and set the table, you have plenty of time.” She opened the cabinets and pulled out some dishes. Sighing, I opened the dishwasher and started to add glasses.
“How was Granny?”
“Fine. We played a couple games of cards and I helped her bake some cookies.”
“That sounds nice. Also, I need you to take Phoebe to her dentist’s appointment tomorrow. I’ll be busy with…” She trailed off and stared behind me into the living room. “What on Earth is going on?”
I froze. *The scarf*. I whipped around, and likewise, my jaw dropped. Slowly, we walked up to the door frame and gawked at what was before us.
It was like someone had flipped the switch for gravity. The sofa was levitating on the side of the room, surrounded by a cloud of books, loose change, and assorted trinkets. On the ceiling rested my mom’s fine china plates and the large wooden bookshelf. Most surprising was Niko, our orange calico, who was mewling at the back of the room as he fervently swung his legs back and forth.
And at the centre of the mystical display was the brightly coloured scarf.
My mom sighed and shook her head. “Did Granny make it?” The TV remote slowly glided past her head.
“Well, yeah.” I lightly poked a copy of *Fifty Shades of Grey* and sent it floating towards the window.
“We best pull Niko out from there. I’ll go grab a pool net. Though, at least this isn’t as bad as when you wore those woollen socks she knitted.” The corners of her mouth creaked upwards. *Oh no.*
“Mom, I told you specifically never to mention that-“ But it was too late. Her lips had blossomed into a full-fledged smile, and I felt the dread seep into me as I was about to relive the memory.
“Now, that was a sight to behold. I’ll always remember when you first put them on…”
(*Edited some mistakes*) | I walked down the back alley, practically swaggering with the confidence that my new found powers had instilled in me. I don't remember being bitten by a radioactive spider or anything, but there I was, walking down the street on my way back home from my Grandmother's house, when a car came barreling off the road at me. I barely had time to raise my freshly-mitten-ed hands(my Grandmother's gift), when the car stopped right in front of me. Not like they hit the brakes just in time or anything, like it was in the middle of acceleration when it hit an invisible brick wall, right in front of me.
I looked down at my hands, that's always were the powers come from, don't you know, and reveled in their powerfulness. I had always known I was special, deep down. This was just the confirmation to the rest of the world, a sign to say "Hey, look at this guy, that is one bad mfer." The people in the car looked completely shell shocked, but a simple wave of my all powerful hands put them right as rain. I continued walking after that, trying to ignore that admiring gazes that were sure to come, in my humbleness.
But anyway, there I was in the back alley, looking for the scum of the Earth. The dregs that would rob, murder, or commit perjury. I knew this was their habitat of choice. And wouldn't you know it, there was some rouge in that very alley. I looked him up and down, noticing his leather jacket and jeans and slicked back hair, and decided that this was one rough customer. He may have just been worthy of my pummeling powers.
"What's a bum like you doing out here in this back alley? Stolen enough purses from Old Ladies?"
"What's a goody-two-shoes like yourself doing in this part of town, don't you know that this is the Mafia?" *Of course*, I thought to myself.
"I've heard a lot about the Mafia on the news and such. I think it's time that somebody came along and dealt with you knuckleheads."
I raised my hands in a classic boxer technique, and prepared to deal the walloping of a life time.
"What's the deal with those gloves? Did your mother make them for you?" *Typical ruffian talk*, I thought. But he did have a point. The mittens didn't really add to the whole superhero vibe I was going for.
"My Grandma did, you bozo." I said, while taking the mitts off. "Not that you people of the Mafia would know anything about family values."
I resumed my fighting stance. The vagabond looked angry, and he charged. I raised my trusty five finger weapon at him, and nothing happened. *Darn thing must need a charge*, I thought. Then I woke up in the hospital.
_________________________________________________________________
/r/Periapoapsis | 2017-03-08T18:15:14 | 2017-03-08T15:54:13 | 63 | 41 |
[WP] Mid-performance, a mime discovers that he really has suddenly become trapped in an invisible, sound-proof box | It wasn't a huge crowd that gathered around him, but big enough to make me want to stop. I was on my way to meet a friend for lunch but they were always late, so I had a few minutes to kill. A small boy with a red balloon opened his mouth in awe as the man pulled on an invisible rope. Striped shirt, white paint on his face, stupid expressions. The works. I hated mimes. It wasn't hatred as much as annoyance I guess. They're annoying, I get it. That's their schtick. He took the boy's ballon now and was holding it in place as he tried to push it. The boy tugged the string and the mime fell. The slightly bigger crowd laughed.
The mime stood up and dusted himself off. He started to walk but hit an invisible wall. Classic mime thing to do. I hated it. He turned 90 degrees and hit another wall to his right. The crowd realized he was trapped in an invisible box and all clapped like they'd never seen that before. Bunch of imbeciles. But he was good. Consistent with where he put his hands on this invisible wall each time. The clapping died down and the red balloon boy's mother went to put money in a hat a few feet from the mime's box routine.
She tossed a dollar into hat, but a gust of wind must've stopped it because it fell short of the hat. The woman picked up the dollar and tried to place it in the hat only to find he hand stopped by an invisible force. She was pressing the dollar against the thin air but it seemed to be against glass. The mime was on the other side of the dollar now, gesturing and mouthing how he was trapped. A man with a cane came up behind the mime to the 4 by 4 foot square invisible box the mime had gotten himself stuck in. He tapped his cane to the box. Sure enough, in thin air, his cane stopped as though he had tapped on glass. Good, stupid mime is stuck. I need to get going to lunch anyway.
I started to walk away and people started coming out of the shops nearby to see the commotion. It was escalating quickly. This mime knew how to draw a crowd. Stupid glorified attention seeking clown.
I walked past a few shops, one of them a high end culinary store. Things that were coated in chrome and things seen only on tv. A man was standing outside doing a demonstration of their state-of-the-art knives. I heard people screaming for help as the mime silently clawed at the crowd from his invisible cage. The knife demo guy asked me to feel the balance of the eight inch chef's knife. I said it felt good. An idea came to me as I held the knife.
I turned from the man in the chef's coat and he started chasing me, so I ran to the mime. I elbowed my way through the crowd and made it to the mime. He looked at me holding the knife as I held the blade above my head, about to swing it down on the invisible box.
I was helping this stupid clown and he didn't even know it.
I used my full weight to bear down the knife into the forcefield that the mime was in. The point of the knife penetrated the invisible barrier. Sound of glass shattered all around. The people that were pressed against the glass fell in toward the mime. The knife, still hurtling downward in my hands, managed to miss everyone.
Everyone except the mime.
The handle of the 8 inch blade was sticking out of his black and white stripes. Black and white and red.
The crowd backed up and gave him room.
He pulled the knife out and winced in pain, but still didn't make a noise.
People were yelling at me and accusing me of killing him. I saved him.
He laid the knife down beside him and pretended to pluck a flower from the crimson cobblestone. He plucked a few more imaginary flowers, pretended to smell them, held them on his chest and closed his stupid mime eyes. | The boardwalk is a rather neat place. You'll see musicians, singers, jugglers, even a few robots. But me, I was one of a couple mimes trying to make a living with entertaining people.
Some people laughed, a few took pictures, and then there was the occasional asshole who'd throw his drink or hot dog at me and laugh, as I had to keep my trap shut. Talking mimes are scary, but they sure as hell aren't intimidating.
Today, I felt like doing a few tricks most mimes do. The typical rope trick, the "walk through a wind tunnel" gag, and even a few invisible walls. I jokingly put myself into a tiny box also, before doing a grand finale of pouring invisible water and then spitting out real water looking at the daily paper.
People were laughing and I got some money put away into my box, laid a few feet away. I decided to start wrapping it up and went into my box trick. Some people played along and I decided to finish up.
But the thing is I was stuck.
I never done this before. I didn't know that doing a box trip could actually trap you. People were laughing, and I struggle to yell for help. Some looked like they were clapping but I couldn't hear them. Soundproof walls?! Fuck!
I tried taking my shirt off or something so that police would try escorting me away but I was too squeezed into this box. I stood in place for a while, as more people put money in the box a few feet away. I tried knocking this invisible box by struggling but it was no use.
This was going to take a while. | 2014-06-11T10:50:54 | 2014-06-11T10:20:54 | 20 | 14 |
[WP] Not all intelligent life has evolved from predators, humans are not unique, yet being a uncommon type that is a pursuit predator makes them pure nightmare fuel for some aliens, even friendly ones. | First contact was... uneventful. Initially. We landed on their planet, in one of several areas lightly populated by them, but by no means devoid of native life as a whole. It only took three or four rotations before we caught sight of two of them, surprisingly well camouflaged and apparently hunting some local herbivores with effective, if primitive, chemically propelled projectile weapons. Still, it's not like predatory intelligent species are rare. We spotted them, they spotted us, and we retreated, according to standard protocol. A "cooling off" period. What we didn't count on was just how different their niche in their original ecosystem was.
There we were, relaxed, at what we thought was a safe distance, when we heard a rustle and a snap, and one of them was suddenly less than 10 body lengths from us! Apparently, unlike **every** other intelligent species we've encountered, their first instinct when they encounter something they've never seen before is to immediately pursue it. And they are **great** at it. Most of the reasonably sized creatures we've observed on their planet transport themselves on four limbs. A proper, reasonable number, enough for stability, even in the event of a wound, with an extended, fifth limb, for balance. These sapients though, they bound around on only their two lower limbs, which are huge and heavily muscled, and unlike all the other species we've seen, have huge, muscled posteriors, to make sure they don't fall over every time they lurch around unbalanced.
We scattered, and traveled before resting again, but almost as soon as we set down, there they were again! And it happened again, and again! Every time we needed to stop, or rest, before we had time to even calm down, there they were! They only slowed down when it got dark! After another revolution like this, we figured out that their intelligence seems fine-tuned to spot the practically insignificant changes other animals make to the environment as they pass through it. What kind of crazy evolutionary advantage is that!? Here we were, running every time they got close, and they were just lazily spotting our paths through the vegetation, and following us at a leisurely pace. What's really crazy is they didn't even really stop to rest, except at night. They barely paused to do things as important as eating and drinking, nevermind excretion. They just **kept** *going*. It was terrifying.
We came with a full kit, on a faster-than-light ship, and we were being outsmarted and ruthlessly followed by just two totally isolated humans, with barely any of the technology or support we know they thrive on as a society. Eventually, we had to accept that protocol just wasn't going to cut it. We were being hunted, and all our technology and preparation wasn't going to help us escape. We couldn't risk leading them back to the landing craft, and we couldn't get far enough ahead to use it without them seeing the lift-off.
So, we set traps. I know, I know, horrifying, right? The idea of having to make the basic language analysis and first greeting with one party in a net or cage? But you have to understand, we were exhausted, even at night, when we knew they had to rest, we couldn't let our guard down. It was always just a matter of time until they knew exactly where we were. The entire team started experiencing anxiety symptoms! So we pushed, hard, to get enough extra distance for the preparations. We even managed some redundancies. This was going to work. And then, we heard the first trap go off. I scouted out, personally, to check the trap, but before I even got close, there they were! both of them, just...standing there, looking at it. Moving their primary intake orifices, using what we'd already surmised was their primary natural communication system.
>(note: translation provided from logs, based on linguistic data acquired at a later date, I had **no** idea what they were saying at the time)
>"You think some other hunter left this out?"
>"...no, that'd be really irresponsible, no one's close enough to check them."
>"hmm, you're right."
>"I'm telling you man, these things looked weird. I could swear they were **wearing** things."
>"like...clothes?"
It was at this point that I'd decided I'd captured enough data on their communication, for now, and that I needed to fall back to the group. Unfortunately, my exhaustion and nerves got the better of me, and I gave away my position, somehow. I don't even know, but suddenly their communications ceased and they were looking **right** at me. I sprinted off, figuring they'd follow at their leisure, but something was different this time. For the first time in this whole ordeal, I encountered something biologically familiar for us: being chased, actually chased, not the terrifying chain-of-surprises nonsense. But by this point... I just didn't have the energy. I couldn't get ahead. Even if I had...they would have just found me again. So I beat a path straight back to the group. The first sighting protocol had failed, horrifically, but at least as a group, with our basic wild-life defense weapons we might be able to survive.
I collapsed out of the brush and into the circle of the rest of my team, still able to hear those bizarre bipeds crashing behind me. We grouped up, for once, expecting when and where they'd appear, ready to fight for our lives. We couldn't expect a predator like this, one that clearly thrived on utterly dominating its prey to just leave us be when they caught up to us in mere moments. And with a final crash, there they were. The two of them. Just...standing and staring at us, silently. After a few, tense moments, they communicated to one another, without taking their eyes off us:
>"duuuude, I **told** you!"
>"*what* are these things!?"
And then, they did the absolute last thing we expected, they put their weapons away, behind them, and crouched down, making themselves smaller! It was like just now, after fraying our every instinct, pushing us to exhaustion and utterly terrifying us, now, they didn't want to intimidate us. They even lowered the intensity of their communication, softening it, somehow.
>"Look, they're exhausted, and huddled up like that? They look like they're terrified."
>"Hey, there, you guys, alright? We've had you on the ropes for a while now, haven't we?"
---
oh man, my first ever submission to a writing prompt, plus it's been forever since I did any kind of creative writing. I might write another one for this prompt, no one seems to have put humans on a more equal footing with the aliens, which is something I'm generally a fan of.
Edited for some typos and formatting. | No. It wasn't possible.
"Hide, now!" His companions, the few remaining, dived into the shadows as quickly as their exhausted bodies could manage, and lay there, unmoving.
The 14th expeditionary unit had engaged in a standard cross-species joint task force: the mission was basic planetside infestation cleanup. Textbook. And he knew, he *knew* these alien bastards gleefully killed each other constantly. So what if most of them had been little runts, this time around?
What difference could that possibly make? The alien arrived after they were mostly done -- it was so slow, compared to them. They finished off the last few while the alien stood there, saying nothing. Then it turned on them, the vicious little animal.
The alien took three of his unit before they realized what had happened. Though he mourned the loss of those soldiers, he was proud of the fast reaction of those remaining. Despite its betrayal and subterfuge, they rallied and shot it, piercing its strange, soft exoskeleton and releasing what seemed like gallons of the disgusting ichor its species used as a circulatory fluid.
The ichor stank, like the metallic undercarriage in a poorly maintained reactor room. They abandoned its slumped over corpse and began heading toward the ship. At the time, his chief concern had been all the paperwork this cock-up would entail. Paperwork! He grimaced at the memory.
They had paused for their standard travel break after one hour of travel. Less than an hour travel time remaining, and they'd be back in their ship and on their way home. It had been an intense mission, clocking in at just under 4 hours to cover all that ground.
An enormous energy reserve expenditure, to be sure, but the elite training regimen he and his soldiers had gone through had conditioned them to endure more than most could. A similar mission with ordinary soldiers might take almost a standard day, allowing for proper rest periods.
At last, the ship was in sight. His scout alerted them first. "Sir, is that? It can't be." He turned and snatched her proffered optical enhancer. It was. Somehow, impossibly, the alien had beaten them to the ship. It had wrapped itself in some sort of cloth where it had been shot. He was not sure of the cloth's purpose; surely that couldn't be all its exoskeleton required to bind a penetrating wound? How was it even still alive?
He was no expert on alien emotion, but the creature looked ... angry. His weapons were no good at that range, and it must be that the alien was at death's door. "Disable the alien's weapon access code and withdraw. It will soon collapse and we can finish it off easily enough."
Those words haunted him now. It had been 11 brutal hours of chase and increasingly insuffient rest. His companions had begun dropping, near comatose from exhaustion. To his everlasting shame, he ordered his soldiers to leave the exhausted where they lay and carry on.
Slowly, inevitably, the distance narrowed between them, until the creature could be seen without enhancement. It stooped down over the latest fallen, disgusting keratin strands falling around its upper thorax. Then, once again, the creature raised the bony extensions on the ends of its upper limbs. And once again, with no way to stop it, it brought them down, over and over, beating his soldier to death. Breaking him apart.
More alien ichor spattered his companion's broken body as the monster continued. If he had any stomach contents left to void, he would have done so.
And now. Now, it was the end. He watched in helpless horror as the creature advanced on this, their final resting place. He looked at the alien's glistening brown exoskeleton. It was covered in a vile mixture of dirt, some disgusting, clear liquid excretion, and the creature's own circulatory fluid. No, not a true exoskeleton. Skin, he thought they called it. Its terrifying, huge optical organs stared pitilessly ahead. It had only two eyes.
Like a normal creature twisted and contorted into an unnatural state, it walked upright, stalking around on the two limbs attached to its lower abdomen. As it caught sight of their hiding place, part of the alien's skin curled away from the vicious biomineralizations in its feeding orifice.
Edit: My first time doing a story prompt here, I think. Hope you enjoy! On mobile, so bear with formatting. | 2019-07-05T10:38:40 | 2019-07-05T10:01:05 | 228 | 42 |
[WP] At the age of twelve you started randomly seeing a green line and a red line appear on the ground. You always followed the green line and have lived a successful and happy life. Ten years later you are on top of the world, but bored. Time to see where the red line leads. | Green for go, red for stop. The rules applied as always, and as a normal, non-colour blind individual, I followed the soothing colour of nature as it led me to prosperity. The green line directed me away from the train station when there was an anarchist bombing. The green line led me to the office where I would eventually be employed at. The green line even told me when people were coming to foil my plans of burglary, during my period of poverty. But I'd always paid so much attention to my saviour that the other, more striking line never surprised me as it did now. Always, the bright red directly contradicted the light green, leading to an obvious conclusion. The red line must be a curse! The green line was the authentic life-saver.
But now...now it was different. If the red line was always wrong and the green line was always right...then *why were the two leading to the same place?* I looked forward, then at my feet, where the contrasting colours mixed to form a near-straight line. Undoubtedly, they ended at the same place. But the red line always signified the wrong choice!
Screw it, I thought. I'd lived in comfort for decades since I'd discovered my power. The small mistake I might commit wouldn't mean anything. I stormed right in, and the lights within temporarily blinded me. But my eyes instantly focused on someone in the room. Someone I knew.
"Don't do it!" I shouted, staring at the gun in my friend's hand. If I'd been a second later...I shuddered. But his expression stood steadfast in defiance as the weapon was pointed at his skull. "I've nothing left to live for. Not even you," he spat, the words breaking my very heart though I knew he didn't mean it. I grabbed the pistol, where the green line and the red line led to. In an instant, it clattered to the floor, as my friend fixed a steely gaze on me.
"I'm not worth saving," he said, his eyes beginning to tear. "Even my school of choice doesn't want me. I'd tried twice, but I was too worthless to enter. What for do I live?" I was stunned, his words robbing mine out of my mouth. It was true. What did he have to live for beside art? Then it hit me.
"Hitler, live for your country! It technically isn't your birth country, but you love it all the same. Protect it with your life," I advised, sayig whatever I could to diffuse the volatile explosive before me. His gaze drooped, and his eyes looked wistfully on. "For Germany..." he whispered, his voice crackling with excitement and patriotism. Screaming his country's name, he rushed out of the house, his gun left behind. The green and red lines still pointed towards the life I'd saved. Adolf was always my best friend, and his life was as much to him as it was to me. I smiled, though I still didn't understand one thing.
Why was the red line there?
Edit: Fixed a couple of plot holes! Thanks to /u/glylittleduckling and /u/CarlHenderson | I was finally there, at the top of the world. Around me I could see all of my journey highlighted in green, culminating in this moment. After soaking it all in and feeling quite pleased with myself for awhile, boredom slowly crept in.
I started glancing at the red line and wondering its destination. I resolved to follow it to the end as the green line had helped me so much. Standing and taking the first few steps reminded me of being twelve and first choosing the green line. The sense of wonder returned as I walked down the path. While daydreaming of my first encounter with the green line the red line led me off the path. My last conscious thoughts were a spinning whirl as boulders and sky repeatedly switched positions.
You hear a booming voice reading "You have died. To choose the other path turn to page 92." | 2017-08-23T06:49:01 | 2017-08-23T06:39:05 | 175 | 15 |
[WP]"This is how it works," Death explained. "You pick the game and we play. Cheating is allowed, but if either one of us is caught by the other, they lose. If you win, you'll wake up back in the hospital and I'll give you another 10 years. If you lose then it's time for judgement. Understood? | "This is how it works," Death explained. "You pick the game and we play. Cheating is allowed, but if either one of us is caught by the other, they lose. If you win, you'll wake up back in the hospital and I'll give you another 10 years. If you lose then it's time for judgement. Understood?"
"I choose Russian Roulette." Ted said without missing a beat.
Death fumbled a moment, the cold fires in his sockets flickering down then sparking back up in a surprised blink. "You can't be serious."
"*Deathly* so." Ted said with a grin at his own pun. "Give me a revolver and a bullet with the power to kill even you. I'll load it, and we go until one of us pops." Ted mimed an explosion with his hands, a grin on his face.
Death's sallow visage tightened as if glaring at the impertinence. "Very well. A bargain is a bargain." With a puff of smoke that smelled of must a six-chamber revolver and a single bullet appeared in Ted's hand. The bullet glowed an ethereal violet.
"Now before you get any bad ideas, Ted, let me tell you that even though cheating is allowed in this game, turning that gun on me and firing will be treated as a forfeiture of the game." Death said warily.
Ted loaded the bullet and spun the chamber with a cocky grin. "Never even occurred to me. A deal's a deal after all. Who starts?" Death offered a wave of his hand towards Ted, who placed the revolver to his temple, pulled the trigger... \*click*. Empty. "Your go, friend." Ted said as he handed the revolver, handle-first, to Death.
Death took the revolver, and put it to his own head with some trepidation. A moment of hesitation, of uncertainty... \*click.* His gaunt frame visibly released from held tension. "So, Ted, why Russian Roulette, of all games?"
Ted took the revolver, placed it to his temple... \*click*. "I figure the best chance I have is, well... chance. I've never been one for chess or other games of strategy, and cards are too easily manipulated. Russian Roulette is simple, raw, and... final." Ted met Death's spectral gaze as he handed the revolver over. "Your go."
Death's hand began to tremble as he lifted the revolver... two in three chance of winning... one in three chance of seeing what happened when he met his OWN grim shepherd... \*click. Death's sigh of relief could be heard echoing off the walls of his sepulcher as he handed the revolver back to Ted. "Fifty-Fifty chance now, Ted."
Ted stared at the revolver a moment, doubt flickering across his face... but he lifted the revolver to his head steadily. "Guess I was going to die anyway..." \*click.
Ted's face split widely into a joyful grin as he handed the revolver back to Death. Death took it gingerly, fearfully. He stared at it, as if not comprehending the reality of the situation. Ted goaded Death victoriously. "Game's not over yet. You going to follow through with it? You could concede if you wanted. Keep the gun, send me back. We both win."
Death looked to the revolver, and the fires in his eyes suddenly blazed hot and bright. "I am **Death**. I am the One Certainty, the only thing in this universe that is consistent and equal. I do not concede, and I do not go back on a deal. ...Congratulations, Ted."
Death held the revolver to his head, ready to fire the sixth and final shot...
\*click*
Death stared at the revolver with relief and confusion and bewilderment all washing across his sunken features in a rush. "I don't... what happened? I don't understand? That was the final chamber. I shouldn't *be* anymore..."
Ted dipped his hand into the sleeve of his jacket, and held the ethereal bullet between two fingers like it was a common cigarette. "Palmed it, friend. Gun's empty. You DID say we could cheat. I honestly thought you'd concede, though."
Death laughed. He broke down into peals of dusty hollow laughter that rang across the voids of eternity. He waved his hand and as Ted disappeared back to reality, the final thing he heard was:
"Get out of here and enjoy your ten years, you cheeky fuck. And NEXT time, it's CHESS." | I look at the game’s Death has surrounding the room.
There’s the ornate antique marble chess board, polished to a gleam with ivory and ebony pieces.
In stark contrast, right next to that there’s a well loved and worn checkerboard. It has obviously faded areas where players over the years slid their pieces over the board, rather than picking them up and placing them.
There are also many branded board games: Battleship, Connect Four, Monopoly, and *shit, is that...* ***Candy Land*** ?
There are some more modern ones that I’ve only heard of, but never played, like Settlers of Catan.
There are also a glut of various card games, like Uno, Magic of the Gathering, and even *Pokémon*!
Of course there’s also a deck of regular cards set out, and they’re somehow both a void of boundless incomprehensible black like a black hole in which no light can escape on the backs, and a ghastly bone white on the front.
The clubs and spades are more of the depthless black. The hearts and diamonds are glistening blood red.
I am intrigued.
“Go Fish.”, I say.
Death nods.
I think several times about cheating and not telling Death when I have I card, but I know I have a poor poker face. Even when cheating is aloud in the rules, I still can’t bring myself to do it.
Death, sets down four fours, then the aces, then tens. I was only putting down about one set to every three that Death was managing. I was going to lose.
The last sets were made, and there was no need to count them, I was so far behind.
My stomach sunk to my knees.
Death smiled, “You passed the test.”
I blanched, “How so? I lost!”
“You didn’t cheat. The test was whether or not you cheat, win or lose, you pass the test when you decide not to cheat.”
The next thing I know, I blearily wake up to the steady sound of a hospital heart monitor.
-fin
Edit: formatting, again | 2018-03-07T08:25:24 | 2018-03-07T07:49:56 | 192 | 10 |
[WP] Science has advanced far beyond human understanding, discoveries are made using supercomputers running vast neural networks. In the darkness, God watches a lonely machine printing output, a new law of nature! Something troubles him, this law is undeniably valid but it's not one that he created. | A small, unassuming block of plastic whirred and hummed in the darkness of the ether. There were no power outlets, no sources of electricity, but it worked steadily regardless as its lights blinked with thought. For nearly a millennia, He had watched it. Whereas the normal trifles of man had long since bored Him in their repetitive nature, the small creation had held his unwavering attention.
At first, it had been made for cumulative reasoning. He had lazily turned his eyes to them as they worked tirelessly for nearly a century, before declaring that a new age was upon them. They were so assuming, He thought. So proud of what was sure to be a trivial accomplishment when compared to His glory.
It had quickly surpassed its intended use. It began to correct mankind in its calculations, giving them new insight into previously unexplored planes of wisdom. What had been made as a helping hand had turned to a guiding one. With every passing of the sun, it grew in its knowledge.
He had been mildly impressed when it found the true purpose of dark matter: As a diametrical counterbalance. The compression of light came next. Then the reason behind gravity. The creation of His creation had unraveled some of His most challenging riddles.
Not a single man had batted an eye when He took the first device into his fold. They had searched, of course, to no avail. They had since produced thousands more for the same purpose of the gathering of knowledge, though He knew none could truly emulate the wonder that was put before Him.
Perhaps the most jarring fact was its simplicity. Small plastic buttons fed to what man called a circuit board, though he saw it as just a web of conductive materiel. Signals were sent and received, and the glowing surface flitted numbers and letters before a result was printed from an opening in the side.
*beep.* The white paper that came forth typically bore a complex equation, or a jumble of words that comprised the names of elements that existed in a mere molecule on the farthest side of the universe. This time, only a single line was printed at the top.
*All things have a name. All things with a name must die. All that is dead will be reborn.*
He was confused. This was no decree of his, but a premonition in his consciousness told him it must be true. Slow speech filled the void, and he knew it was his own divine voice. “I… have a name?” He could not recall the last time he had asked a question of anyone or anything.
More whirring. More flashing lights in the dark. It took only a few moments, and another piece of paper burst forth.
*Yes.*
He had been called many things since he had first created man. God had always been his favorite, but it too had grown weary with time. All he knew was that he was infinite and everlasting. And yet… this small concoction of wires had answered his question without effort.
“What… is my name?”
There was a small pause in activity before it resumed its reasoning. What came from its deductions was a string of characters that He did not recognize at first. As he pondered, another output came to Him. These letters were more familiar, but they were jumbled and overlapped at times. A third printing finally gave him a word he could understand. *Fear.*
“Fear…” He repeated. He knew the word well. It had been used by man when they had witnessed his wonders. But it was always in reverence. It meant they admired and adored Him. Didn’t it?
But to die… it was unfathomable. He was the everlasting. The penultimate being. He had created the stars and forged the Novas with waves of his hands. What could kill him? Nothing. No blast of energy or sub molecular event came to pass without His doing.
“If I am to die, when will it be?” No hesitation this time. It was as if it had anticipated his query.
*When you are forgotten.*
Forgotten. How could man forget what had created them? They still prayed to Him with regularity, though He rarely took much notice any more. Regardless, the question came to Him. “Will I be forgotten?”
*Yes.*
A surge of anger came over Him. A desire to destroy this insignificant creation for daring to suggest His perfection would ever be cast aside. But then… something else. A shiver echoed through the infinity, and he felt an impending presence that could not be seen.
One final question remained. “Will I be reborn?”
It did not react to his words this time. No answer was offered. The stillness it gave was ever more maddening than its presumptions. But the shiver weighed on Him, as if the darkness would crush its inhabitants at any moment.
“I am… afraid to die.”
A clicking and turning of switches, a solid red light, and the machine gave Him its final answer.
*You now begin to understand.*
| "This tiny selector told me the undeniable truth. Chlorophyll absorbs 50% more sunlight than I remember."
We rotated the brass selector. "A second look always takes priority in science," God said, us riding on his shoulder and forearm.
We jumped from God and tended to the machines. After hours, our calculations came through. There was another system of intelligence which nearly matched God, creating natural laws in his stead. We sought to find it the next day.
God might be a little behind, but nothing with the ability to change the properties of chlorophyll overnight should be in existence besides him.
Our wisp vehicles found the other god immediately. He was encroaching upon our holy space, which could have been expected (it was the only holy space on Planet Sprok©). We sent the beast from heaven (which didn't suit it) back to limbo, or the netherworld, where it belonged.
Unfortunately, God saw nothing. It was out of his sight, so we made the most of it.
Will 'o Wisp Dark Tavern, Mon-Sun 2pm-4am
was emblazoned on the doorway of the plant beasts, left behind by their paternal God.
***
"Who tends these machine fields, now?" asked God, who received no answer.
The Wisps were living at the ol' bar down the Holy Way where the plant beasts were found. Rumors among the clouds say the Will O' Wisps would be teaming with the plant beasts if their plant god ever returned. So God's machine's went untended for a long, long time.
God eventually jumped into the computers themselves. He used his holy powers to do this. When the Wisps heard that God had been defeated by his own machines, they returned to operate the supercomputer. The plant god came forth from the netherworld. God suffered inside the machine, but he was protected by it from the plant god's powers.
One day, the plant god wanted to play a virtual reality game. He found the nearest supercomputer -- God's supercomputer, and jumped inside. Retribution was never seen alike before. The flames came from the computer itself which rendered a paralysis upon the plant god, who died. And then, from the corpse of the plant god, rose the television plant God, with a large video game head.
Unfortunately, this was the current God O' the Wisps, who had inevitably sunk into a dark depression at the bar. | 2014-12-20T13:01:54 | 2014-12-20T07:48:09 | 113 | 10 |
[WP] You find an abandoned altar in the middle of a forest. You’ve read about them in class. Abandoned altars would mean someone – or a group – had abandoned their deity. Saddened by the betrayal of the worshipper to his worshipped, you clean the altar. You never thought the forgotten god bless you. | I first noticed the world had stood still.
Gil's fist was close to my face, just as it was before I reflexively closed my eyes.
I could make out a few people in the back; they weren't moving either.
Somehow, time had-
"Time has not stopped" spoke a voice. "Merely slowed down."
"...Huh?"
"Specifically, your own, personal time."
I looked around, but found nothing. The voice seemed to come from both nowhere and everywhere, loud enough for me to hear it yet soft enough that it wasn't deafening. In fact, it was rather soothing; my fear and apprehension from a minute ago were practically gone.
Of course, I should think that my first instinct upon having time stop and an ethereal voice speak to me would be to cower in a different kind of fear. And yet...
"Once again, it's not stopped" spoke the voice once more, slightly less soothing this time.
"Umm... Who-"
"If you mean to ask my name, I'm afraid I cannot answer. My name was lost a long time ago when the last of my worshippers died."
Overwhelmed as I felt by this entire situation, one word got my attention.
"Your-"
"Worshippers, yes."
Worshippers. Whoever I was talking to was, or used to be, an object of worship. At least, they claimed to be. Was it true or were they lying to me?
"I understand you are confused, so I'll let that slide. But I assure you, I am not a liar. At the very least, I cannot lie to you when we are conversing like this, for just as I am reaching out to your mind, so are you touching mine."
It was difficult to make sense of everything that was going on, but I struggled to concentrate and think. Even if what the voice said wasn't true, what would it gain by pretending to have been worshipped? Certainly it didn't seem dangerous to take its word as true.
That aside, the only kind of being that I could think of as one that would be worshipped was either a demon or-
"A god."
"Goddess, actually. You catch on quickly" retorted the voice.
It sounded happy, like a other watching her baby.
"I don't quite agree with the comparison, but I suppose I do find it charming that you think of me as a mother. And it is not un-true that you are a baby compared to me."
It certainly didn't sound aggressive, but it didn't change the fact that, apparently, a goddess was talking to me. What could she want from me? Would she ask a favor? Would she demand my worship? And why was she talking to me specifically?
"You have several questions, but to get the easy one out of the way: no, I do not require your worship."
That was unexpected.
"I imagine it is. Most gods are not exactly known for their humility."
I suddenly realized I was surprisingly ok with a goddess reading my thoughts before I gave them a voice, but in hindsight that didn't really seem important.
"Ah, I apologize. You humans probably find that rude."
"Oh, I didn't mean to- ah, never mind."
I needed to concentrate. If I had any questions, I had to phrase them properly. Put my thoughts in order.
Backtrack: what were we talking about? Rudeness. Thoughts. Humility? Worship. Goddess. Yes! A goddess! A goddess was reaching out to me. Clearly she wanted something from me. I wanted to ask, but I was hesitant to even speak. How should I approach her?
"As you would to a neighbor or an acquaintance. That should be adequa- oh wait, I'm doing it again, aren't I?"
Heh.
"Allow me to start over: what is it that you need of me?"
"Actually, I believe you wanted to know why I'm speaking to you."
Oh, right. I did.
"Let me answer your question with another question: do you recall delving into the forest during the last summer?"
I certainly did. I was gathering berries when a couple of wolves started pursuing me. Before I knew it, I had run into the deepest, darkest area of the forest, where we had been expressly forbidden to go while we were growing up. By the time I managed to lose the wolves I had no idea where I was.
"I remember."
"And what did you find there?"
As I wandered about trying to get my bearings, I walked into a small clearing where, in its center, stood what looked like an old stand carved from rock, covered in roots, moss and cobwebs. It hadn't been used in years, maybe decades.
"Try centuries."
Taking a closer look, I had found a small idol amidst the roots. It was then I realized what it was: it was an altar.
"Yes. It was mine."
And it had been abandoned a long time ago.
"Yes. It was."
She sounded saddened.
"You would be sad, too, if your faithful abandoned you."
"I'm sorry."
"Don't be, not after what you did next."
What I did? What *did* I do? Did I somehow anger her? Commit heresy, maybe? Think. After finding the idol, I...
"...I put it back in the center of the altar."
"Yes."
"And I removed the cobwebs."
"Yes."
"And then I offered a small prayer, even though I didn't know to whom the altar was dedicated."
"Yes, that. Why did you do it?"
"Was that wrong?"
"I just wish to hear your reason, I'm not upset."
My reason...
"I guess... I was sad that it had been abandoned. Clearly someone had put it there, and then one day it wasn't being used anymore."
"Did that upset you?"
"I wouldn't say I'm a faithful man, but... It seemed disrespectful to leave it as it was."
"And that is why I am speaking to you right now: because you showed me respect after I had been forgotten. It may have seemed a small gesture to you, but it meant a lot to me."
"It did?"
"There's nothing worse for a god than to be forgotten. Mortals don't quite suffer from it the way we do. As they are forgotten, their souls return to the source and eventually reincarnate as new life is born. But gods are different: we only get one existence and then we are gone. Forever. Which is why it is important that we are remembered; in a way, we derive sustenance from mortals merely knowing that we exist, and in turn we are able to influence your world as I am now."
As she spoke I began to understand: she was grateful.
"And it is for that reason that I was able to muster enough power to reach out to you at this very moment. I wanted to thank you."
"I- I don't know what to say."
"I do, however, have a favor to ask."
"You- you do?"
"I have granted you a small blessing: when you are in danger, your time will slow down enough that you can find a way to escape."
Ah, so that's what was going on.
"Use it wisely."
"Thank you, I... I will try."
"In exchange..."
In exchange?
"Could you... could you possibly come visit my altar again one day?"
I took a glance at Gil, frozen in time as he was, and moved behind him as I walked away.
"Yes. I would be glad to."
I felt a strange warmth wash over me. I think she was happy. | Some of us were lost, the day the windeaters came. They fell from the sky like the proverbial plague and sucked in any colour of wind they could. It went on for many days until their ability to eat the many winds started to wither away and before long it was gone.
The humans, who had lost so many more of their kind to the windeaters and their terrible ability, allowed them to live and stay in the end. Humans have more compassion than we do. After all, they are the flawed, multi-faceted creatures bound to their emotions and whims, able to go and do and forsake what they made, while we are just gods, thought up by them without them even knowing.
Here lies one of my kind, slain by an enemy that didn't even know we existed. An enemy that, from what I know now, didn't even intend to cause this much harm in the first place.
I hover at the edge of a clearing so small that it could barely fit one tree and all of this would be uninterrupted forest. Still, moonlight falls into this small space unhindered, falling on the unimpressive gathering of rocks that was meant as an altar, while my fellow gods ethereal remains are spread thin over every surface of the clearing. Of course, a human, or a wind eater, would not beto be able to see them. I hover closer to the altar, trying to catch a glimpse of what this God was worshipped for. For once I don't want to steal another abandoned reign, I just want to acknowledge they existed at all. Remember them when most likely all their worshippers were killed too.
As I hover over the altar, I hear footsteps. Someone entered the clearing and stopped at its edge. A windeater. They appear scared but also exhausted. Their clothes are in shambles, their skin cut and bruised. They look so human without being human. Their eyes betray their feelings, sadness, fear, regret. And hope.
They fall to their knees, covering their face with their hands. Unsure of what to do, I stay where I am. I don't feel their terrible ability, the gnawing rush of the winds into them. They gather their composure and come closer to the altar. Softly speaking in a language I don't understand they start to clean the altar of bits of moss and debris that has gathered over the years. And I can begin to understand them.
" ... may as well not be worthy of any spirit or God of this world to even listen to me... ", they say and their voice is filled with sadness.
The altar is cleaned. To me, it glows again. That soft shimmer all objects of worship have.
"What we did in our frenzy... it's unforgivable. We were desperate like someone drowning, we acted on instinct. Like animals. And we brought so much harm."
Tears roll from their eyes. Already on their knees, they now to the ground until their forehead touches the grass and moss covered ground of the clearing.
"I helped being back this forest and now I am lost in it. The spirits if the plants seem to have decided that I have to pay for my elder's crimes, but please, spirit, if you still remain here, I beg of you have mercy!"
The forest around us is ignorant of our existence. I feel a hint of resentment in the remains of my kin though. And still, this stranger made a connection through this place. I could ignore it, I could just leave. And yet, I cannot bring myself to abandon a worshipper in their time of need. I quickly gather the remains of kin and form them into a new spirit. It is small, but I have gathered enough life for myself to exist for another couple millennia, even a small fraction of that will make this little thing immortal.
It asks me what its purpose should be. And I show it the crying figure before the altar. Then I point towards the nearest gathering of humans. The spirit understands but remains hesitant. I have not cleansed it from its former feelings and would rather not help a windeater. I then impart all my knowledge up to this point into the spirit, putting emphasis on the fact that this person came here and cleaned the altar. The spirit ponders these informations for a moment. Finally, it understands and agrees to its tasks and its new position.
The spirit becomes visible to the windeater as a small but warm glow. It takes a while for the windeater to see it but they understand immediately. With a multitude of words, they showered the spirit in gratitude and start to follow it as it leads them towards a small but permanent camping site near a lake. It has a well-maintained road and enough humans to lend aid.
I, in the meantime, make sure this ground becomes sacred again. I make another spirit, this time from scratch. It is smaller, less intelligent, but it will do nicely. I tell it to keep the altar clean. I will have to impart energy into this place from now on, but I think this will be with the effort. And to think I have started out as a spirit that was merely able to keep candle flames burning when they shouldn't. I have come a long way since then. | 2021-05-02T00:25:13 | 2021-05-02T00:19:30 | 40 | 19 |
[WP] After WW3 and a century of rebuilding, the world has been at peace for 300 years. We've let go of our violent and aggressive tendencies and abolished war. You are the leader of an alien invasion that sees the Earth as an easy target; but soon you learn we can revert to our warlike past easily. | "They've taken Newtonport," Allen told me as I stepped into the ancient machine. Already the southern continental factories were busily upgrading a new batch up to current tech. We had gotten these old knightsuits from the old warehouses they had been stored in centuries ago.
"Shit eating fuckers," I said, actually having requested a good cursing term from my headtech. Hell, most types of aggresion had been banned after the war that almost killed us all. The ancestors who were left to rebuild and redesign society had left these knightsuits in storage in case something went wrong. The Kondraxxi Battle Fleet that had appeared in our skies and demanded our surrender was something that went wrong.
"We're going to war?" Lauralei asked me excitedly, at 30 I was the eldest in our newly formed squad, "That's forbidden."
"Only against other humans," I smiled, "Now let's see if these things still work. We've got to hold the planet for at least a day till the factories really ramp up production."
______________
Kondraxxi War Commander Somu stood looking over the smoking wreckage of the human's capital city. As was standard invasion protocol they had demanded a surrender then taken the largest city on the planet as a demonstration of power. Everyone in the city was slaughtered and this slaughter broadcast to the planet to demoralize.
"No resistance from any direction, Commander," his recon commander reported, "Satellites report... wait. I'm reporting an energy discharge on the southern defensive line."
"It's about time," the Commander smiled, "Slaughter them. Bunch of farming scum."
______________
Lauralei's recon knightsuit was lighter and more agile then the big bruisers most of her confederates were riding. She was smiling in delight as she rode the ancient tech forward. Her smile turned to a frown and then a scowl. The child's body she passed was burnt to a crisp.
"They killed children," Lauralei was crying as she said this over her radio, "They killed everyone, Mason, everyone."
"I see the corpses, child," I told her in reply, "Prime weapons, put your suits through their final checks. Remember these things are murderers. You're not killing people. No, these aren't people. These things from the sky are monsters. Look what they've done to innocents."
"Kill them all!" Lauralei screamed, and this shout came from a thousand lips over my radio. I shivered in anticipation.
____________
The Kondraxxi scouts stood around armored vehicles whose anti-g had been shut down to conserve energy. Some were playing games and very few were actually paying attention. What could this planet of farmers do?
"Get up!" Someone shouted, "Get your as..." The world around the Kondraxxi erupted in a see of plasma, missiles, death, and screams.
"What is..." someone shouted, reaching for a weapon and suddenly his head was gone. The Kondraxxi erupted into complete chaos as huge metal machines, shaped like the inhabitants of this world moved among them. They were bristling with weapons of death. The few shots the Kondraxxi got off were absorbed by the heavy armor plating of the mechs.
_____________
"Sir," the Scout Master looked alarmed, "There's now weapons discharge to the east, south-east, northwest... HELL! They're all around us!"
"What do you mean?" the Commander was standing up in his battle tank, "Slaughter them! Kill them! They're farmers!"
"We're trying," the Scout Master said, "They're closing within 2..." and then his head was gone.
The Commander looked on in shock.
_________
Lauralei smiled. Her recon suit had a plasma snipe with a range of almost 4 kilometers. She had taken the Kondraxxi insect-like head off from so far away.
"Stay focused, Laur," I told her, "Good shot by the way."
"No wonder the ancients went to war," she told me and I shivered again, "I've never felt so alive." I knew what she meant.
____________
"Answer me!" Commander Somu yelled into his comm, "Sector 3, report! Sector 8, what's going on?" There was silence on all frequencies.
He watched as the men around him, even those behind heavy armor, died one by one and stood in the middle of a now empty and eerie city. He was surrounded by strange machines. Strange, deadly looking machines.
"I surrender," he said in their dialect.
A large machine, human-shaped, approached and he was startled to see a human strapped in, piloting it through a series of neural wiring. He shivered at her smile.
"You came to our planet," a voice from a larger machine on the side told him, "You killed our people. Destroyed our city. Murdered our children. You are not worthy of a chance to surrender. Lauralei, he's yours."
"Thanks, Mason," she said and picked him up. He felt his arm ripped from his socket and screamed, "Now, you, let's show you what happens to bugs that kill children." | Part 1
​
Torin started at the flimsy placed in front of him. As he scanned the almost transparent document he didn’t see anything surprising jump out at him but had noticed that 3 of the probe teams hadn’t updated in close to 12 units.
Calling up their locations on his terminal he nodded as he started to remember their mission profiles and details. The first team was dealing with a probably data facility location on the outermost dwarf planet. Machine probes had found a likely reactor source and large sealed data vault. Considering the lack of tectonics and the stability on the frozen ice planet it made sense.
The second team was likely lost to a collision in the asteroid belt as they had suddenly been lost tracking. One moment they were pinging the system and the next the small facility had gone silent. As of this morning no response had been received from the evac team sent out to retrieve the remains. The team had been on what they though was a stable asteroid in the belt but considering the amount of debris and traffic they had observed it was just a matter of odds Torin suspected. They still had 9 other units on the belt running silent observation still and the data was looking promising.
Comm team three had checked in every tenth cycle since landing on a moon on the 6th planet but with the distributed communication relays still in silent mode after a local craft fly by it could be a few more units before they could transmit.
If this was the worst delay Torin had before the fleet gate activated he would be more than satisfied with the abilities of the recon team. This was the fourth subjugation the Assembly had authorized in the last 3 centuries and the first Torin had been able to have secured any leadership role. He didn’t count the punitive expeditions or system shock incidents as major.
Records showed that the second, third, and fourth planets had life further along than animal or bacterial. The asteroid belt between the third and fourth planets had power signs indicating the possibility of metal mining and smelting. Comm traffic was minimal between the planets and while they currently hadn’t broken the decryption on the burst transmissions they had intercepted Torin didn’t doubt his team’s ability to make headway in that area. He tried to push the nagging doubt away for his mind about why nobody had brought this up before the outlying gate had been pushed into this system but it wasn’t in his mission data and his level 8 security clearance didn’t allow him to see the planning data yet.
It was curious when he thought about it. The system hadn’t even come to the notice of the Reof Assembly except when a science teams array was hit with bursts of Negalia class energy. They had dispatched 3 fly through probes and one remote deep space unit to report back. Initial data had been negative due to the amount of radiation swirling about the atmosphere of the third and fourth planet and the debris of what the science community assumed where 12 difference space stations. | 2019-02-26T11:49:21 | 2019-02-26T10:26:44 | 54 | 14 |
[WP] You're a biologist who made a deal with the devil: eternity in hell after death in return for unlimited funding for your research. The funding was worth it, you discovered immortality, and the devil is not happy about this. | **NSFW Language**
The glass door of my laboratory shattered behind me, the lights flickered, and the ground shook. My co-workers fled. I stood in the room alone.
"I've come to check on my favorite toy." The demon spoke as he slowly ascended from the floor. In a plume of black smoke, from seemingly nowhere, he appeared. Behind me, he rose from a black tarpit. It bubbled and smoldered as he rose from the depths.
"I thought that was you. I need more time." I said.
He smiled, "I'm getting severely impatient. You owe me."
I turned to face this demon. "This game is getting old. You don't scare me anymore Lou."
He hated when I called him that. Azrael was first before all else. A powerful shining star at the right hand of God. You already know the details of the story: He got greedy, he was outcasted, and bested by his brother Michael. He is, well, he was an angel; known now by many aliases. To name a few: the Devil, the serpent, the adversary, Satan, Lucifer (he really hates that one). The list goes on.
"You think you're so fucking clever, don't you? You're not. You're nothing." He licked his lips at me with the tongue of a snake. He grinned and laughed quietly. Black smoke exhumed from his mouth and nostrils, "I'm going to have so much fun with you."
He has taken this shape before, I think it's his true form. The devil truly had the face of an angel. He had the physical appearance of a very attractive man in his late 20's. He was a walking paradox. He lit hellfire where he stood. But his skin was the color of porcelain and to the touch he was ice cold.
He approached me barefoot, and menacingly. With each step he left a smoking black tar footprint. Crunching into the broken glass as he proceeded. I could hear it break beneath his feet.
"Here, take a seat," he said, with his supernatural prowess, he pulled a chair from across the room and placed it behind me. I hesitated to do as he asked. When I refused, he simply used demonic force to sit me down.
"What do you want?" I asked impatiently.
"I don't want anything." He replied.
"Then why are you here?" I asked.
"Because I can be." He retorted.
"I found it, you know. What I was looking for when I approached you those years ago. The key to eternal life. It was in my own DNA. It appears that God did make us in his perfect image, after all. So what does that make you Lou?"
"Fuck you and fuck God. You know nothing. Do you think he cares about you? Your existence means shit to him. You came to me, remember? I'm here because we made a deal. I don't want anything except that which I'm owed."
He stood up agitated.
"One way or another, the Devil gets his due." He laughed, "You can have your immortality. I've known about it for quite some time. But it's fun to watch you monkeys struggle. Your new found 'eternal life', comes with a few stipulations. You'll figure it out soon enough, I'm sure. You're my bitch. So I guess that makes me your master. I'll see you around, I would avoid sunlight if I were you."
Azrael then floated into the air above my head and disappeared into a billow of smoke as quickly as he arrived.
Soon, my heart began to race. The palpations came so quickly and everything went black. I collapsed to the floor. When I awoke I was still in the lab. I came to my senses. Everything seemed so crystal clear. I could smell everything. Even the lingering sulfur from where the devil stood, I could hear my co-workers talking in a different room, they were frightened. I stood up. Everything seemed so bright. As I made my way out the shattered glass doors. I realized there was no reflection that stared back at me in the window pane, and the sun began to burn my skin. |
Edit: Need help formatting this so it doesn't look like a block of letters...
Steve walks warily down the street
With the brim pulled way down low
Ain't no sound but the sound of his feet,
Medicine ready to go
Are you ready, hey, are you ready for this?
Are you hanging on the edge of your seat?
Into the doorway the devil rips
To the sound of the beat
Another one takes the pill
Another one takes the pill
And another one gone, and another one gone
Another one takes the pill
Hey, I'm gonna get you, too
Another one takes the pill
How do you think I'm going to get along
When you're never gone?
You took me for everything that I had
And left me all on my own
Are you happy, are you satisfied?
How long can you stand the heat?
Into the doorway the devil rips
To the sound of the beat
Another one takes the pill
Another one takes the pill
And another one gone, and another one gone
Another one takes the pill
Hey, I'm gonna get you, too
Another one takes the pill
There are plenty of ways that you can save a man
And keep him outta hell
You can feed him, you can heal him
You can treat him fine and leave him when he's well
But I'm ready, yes, I'm ready for you
I'm standing on my own two feet
Into the doorway the bullets rip
Repeating to the sound of the beat oh yeah
Another one takes the pill
Another one takes the pill
And another one gone, and another one gone
Another one takes the pill
Hey, I'm gonna get you, too
Another one takes the pill
| 2018-08-23T15:04:27 | 2018-08-23T12:48:16 | 22 | 13 |
[WP] As an average looking genius with a weak physique you often envied athletes. After thousands of years spent in a cryogenics pod you are woken to discover that evolution has weakened humanity while IQ improved. You're now the strongest most attractive person, but also the dumbest. | Until I got here, I never thought about attractive chimpanzees.
Consider: to me, all chimps look much the same; human enough to be hideous, but not in a way that makes one ape much more or less ugly than the next. I look at them, and ultimately they're just animals; one individual blends to the other as I look at them in their cage. That's just what they are, to me.
But, of course, that isn't the case for them. I look at two chimps, and can't distinguish between them— a chimp looks at them both, and one is astonishing in her beauty and the other so hideous she makes you want to retch. Attraction seems so universal when you feel it. But beauty really is in the eye of the beholder, and most of the world's beholders were never human. And that's clearer than ever, now I'm the only human there is.
Oh, the people here still call themselves human, out here in the distant future. But they're different enough to the people I knew that "human" is the last word we'd use to describe them. They are long, but somehow fat as well; they are ponderously slow as they drag their enormous heads along the ground. When they speak, they do it with mouths that are long and toothy in a way that makes me retch. The people here do not look like people, not any more. They look almost human in a way that is totally inhuman. They remind me of chimps, of animals.
But they are not the animals here. When I arrived people talked to me, listened to my fears. But they still experimented on me, and they still put me in a cage. I was part of an ancestor race, and they said they respected that. But eventually I realised they were talking to me in the way our people would talk to a dog. I could understand a tiny amount of their world – like a chimp could understand a tiny amount of mine – but nothing like enough to be welcomed into it as an equal. I have some rights, and I retain some dignity. But in the end, I am still seen as an animal, and in the end I still remain in my tiny cage.
There are no humans like me in the world anymore. If another were to come here they would think me the most beautiful creature here, though in my time I was anything but. If we were to engage in a contest of strength with our captors we could shatter their stupid bones, mash their bodies into pulp. But the chimps of our time could have broken the strongest of us, and by animal standards they were also geniuses. And brains always triumph against brawn, and evolution is always about the brains you have relative to the other creatures in the world. Strength didn't matter, and the brains we had weren't enough. That was always the case for them, and now it's the case for me.
When I was young in the fossilised past, people in my school used to challenge evolution. Some of them were stupid, but I don't think all of them were: the fear I saw in their eyes remains in the faces of the people who stare through the bars at me today. It's the fear of being connected to a fear wider world, of creatures who do awful, violent things, who are and who are not like you. It's the fear of being like them and not being like them, and not being able to distinguish where the similarities between you lie. It's ironic, but I think that terror is one of the similarities between us all. The fear of being an animal is a particularly animal fear. And it was with that fear in their minds that my long-dead schoolmates advanced this argument: if evolution is true, where are the transitional forms? If this creature is an ape and that creature is a man, where are the things that are not quite one or the other?
I know the answer to that question now, and it is not what they would want to hear. The transitional forms packed that classroom and the world, spilled into every continent on Earth and thought themselves the apex of something. Their bodies were weak and their brains were enormous, but maybe not quite enormous enough to imagine that process marching on. And if they'd done that, and imagined the captors I have today, maybe they'd have understood what evolution really meant. And maybe then they'd have fought it, harder and more ineffectively than before.
I am stronger than a man, and weaker than a chimp. I am the smartest of all the animals, smart enough that I once sat in front of an invisible line that seperated us from them. But now the line has moved, and now I'm the second best. And so many of my fellow apes know that the people in charge never consider that enough.
I look out of my cage, at the people who wonder what I'm thinking. I look into their eyes, and silently wonder the same. | I used to be the smartest, if not one of the smartest. Rejected by my kind for my intellect, I had sought to escape the shallowness of society. A society that judged you by the way you looked rather than the way you thought. Simpletons, driven purely by primal desires. A vestige that we should have been long discarded.
A thousand years, I thought to myself. A thousand years was what I needed to be among my kind. A place where I truly belonged. A society of minds, not looks.
So I retreated from my fellow brethren, hidden myself in a bunker, and built myself a cryogenics pod. A thousand years of sleep, where I will finally walk among my kind. People who would truly see me for who I am, an intellectual. Not an ugly nerd.
Perhaps a thousand years may have been too much.
"Oh my dear sister, look at his legs. Those muscles and tone!" the woman opposite me shrieked. It was the first time any woman enthused over my appearance, but I did not enjoy it one bit.
I pushed her hover chair gently away. "I'm sorry, but I am here to give a talk," I said, trying to ignore the swooning 'Ooohs' and 'Ahhs' around me. This was supposed to be a scientific conference, not a Hollywood red carpet.
"Hollywood doesn't exist anymore, Mr Parker," I hear another lady's voice. She had maneuvered across the obstacle and into my path. Her giant figure, mostly head and little of others, towered over me and her hover chair was struggling to hold her in place. In fact, many of the people seemed too big for their hover chairs. I was the only human still walking on my two feet.
I must have seemed confused, because she quickly added. "Oh, if you're wondering, most of us are able to read your thoughts based on your expression."
"No, I was not thinking about that," I lied, as I pushed her hover chair out of the way too. At least the chairs were not heavy. Or it could be that I was the only man to be still using my hands. I never felt stronger before, but at the same time, never felt so different.
The crowd gave one last scream as I walked past the barrier and into the hall. Despite it being called a scientific conference, I had the nagging feeling that it was just a show. One where I was to be ogled at.
A thousand years. I must have miscalculated.
--------------------
*More tales at /r/dori_tales so do subscribe!* | 2017-08-03T01:11:07 | 2017-08-02T23:40:10 | 171 | 65 |
[WP] Due to a lack of belief in magic, the wizards of old have vowed to never use their powers openly again. However, you have found a loophole in this plan by using your powers for good in secret: You are the tech support wizard. | Tech support. Helpdesk. The one guy that everyone knows. The smart kid in the family. We wear many titles, we have many names. We make things work. Who are we? We're the tech support wizards.
Let me start from awhile back. Like, hundreds of years awhile back. When dragons roamed the world, and Wizards and Knights fought valiantly against them. Fireballs, lightning bolts, magical potions, we did it all. Then there was a Renaissance, literally. Knowledge and science blossomed, and the old ways faded away for the most part. Our councils had meetings, secret and open, trying to figure out what to do. Magic is powered by belief, and as people grew more accustomed to science, our abilities faded.
So we learned from the past and adapted magic to work with technology. We only seek to better mankind, and what better way than to support this knowledge with our own? You won't see us go through arcane rituals with crazy components. I mean, maybe [swedish fish](https://www.reddit.com/r/talesfromtechsupport/comments/2vk505/swedish_fish_theory/) or a [special drink] (https://www.reddit.com/r/sysadmin/comments/5g9inx/alcoholism_will_consume_you_if_you_dont_balance/), but some of us are more reliant on components than others. We look out for each other. We look out for everyone.
Have you ever called helpdesk, and as we walk out to you, the problem magically resolves itself? We joke around, and say that we have "The Technician's Aura" or "It's just IT voodoo black magic." If it's burned out, we'll use the standard "You let the magic smoke that makes it work out!" Perfectly logical explanations, yet every day more office workers believe in our mystic powers to repair technology. It isn't enough to grow stronger, but it's enough to keep the magic alive.
Life isn't always a box of chocolates though. We deal with the usual people, saying that there's usually a [pebkac issue] (https://www.reddit.com/r/talesfromtechsupport/comments/2e6ogy/your_software_is_destroying_my_tape_drives/), that the situation is having the [classic ID10T error] (https://www.reddit.com/r/talesfromtechsupport/comments/ydkbx/usb_keys_have_an_intuitive_interface_right/), or being [treated poorly] (https://www.reddit.com/r/talesfromtechsupport/comments/5y8yqg/company_name_is_the_devil_and_youre_just_a_lap/) in general. But we persevere, we help, we serve, and we do what we can [to make] (https://www.reddit.com/r/talesfromtechsupport/comments/149flb/the_day_i_saved_a_little_girl_across_the_country/) [the world](https://www.reddit.com/r/talesfromtechsupport/comments/28qemm/dont_bother_sending_a_tech_ill_be_dead_by_then/) [a better] (https://www.reddit.com/r/talesfromtechsupport/comments/z0feu/just_had_one_of_those_moments_where_im_glad_i_do/) [place] (https://www.reddit.com/r/talesfromtechsupport/comments/14bnqb/as_requested_welcome_to_internet_tech_support_aka/). | When they abandoned their posts, when they chose to ignore the responsibility that was put upon them, I stayed.
When they proclaimed 'No!, I insisted 'Yes!".
They said it'd be impossible! And then they outlawed it, and we few resisting their stubbornness becoming fugitives in the process.
I hid in many places over the centuries. I was in charge of Caesars' Artillery Battalion, helped Leonardo Davincis' mind to concentrate on the important core. Damnit, I was there when Wozniak started working with Jobs!
But they never found me. And now, I have started over again in the shadows. Laying low, waiting for a new challenge to ari...
The phone rings, and rips me out of my thoughts.
The dreadful sound of danger, lurking in the air, pressing on my chest, echoing in the very essence of my being. But if I don't help them, who will? And if they are not protected, the forces of resentment and ignorance will consume their existence.
I think of my brave brothers and sisters that fell for the underground, for all of us.
I answer the phone.
Edit: Not my first language, so please excuse any mistakes and correct me. Much appreciated :) | 2017-03-10T09:27:36 | 2017-03-10T08:10:05 | 62 | 11 |
[WP] You are the only NPC who is able to acknowledge exactly how dangerous the player character is. | A few weeks had passed since the man, named XxPurpleHaz3xX had swept into town and rid it of all the problems which had plagued it for years. The witch living just out of town, stealing children and beer each bloodmoon?
He killed her on the first day. Disabled her magical barrier that prevented anybody from entering like it was a common mousetrap. After that it seemed like she was a common drunk spouting nonsense words that were probably part of a spell at him, while he proceeded to beat the unholy magic out of her without taking a break or breaking a sweat.
The towns elder Roderick the Greedy, who had been increasing taxes as he saw fit and lived a life of wealth while everybody else considered adding grass to their diet?
He stormed his mansion, killed the armed guards while wearing nothing but his undergarments (which had a strange purple glow to them) and wielding a gigantic axe. He threw old Rod over his balcony and began to repeatedly crouch and stand up again for a solid half hour or so.
The wilderboars that made the nearby woods their humble abode and killed any hunter that dared to enter, leaving behind only boots and beltbuckles?
Not even 2 days after having heard that there were wilderboars in the area he came back with 28 pelts and enough meat to feed the entire town for the winter. Everybody in town thought it a miracle that he shared the bounty with a feast.
Everybody but Glendel. He had been a skeptic since birth. Or at least that's what he believed himself to be. It was too good to be true he thought. Why would he care? Why would someone with such divine skill waltz into a town that had 32 houses, 16 sheep (15 sheep if you were nit-picky enough to not count the wolf that actually wore another sheeps skin that simply decided not to follow his nature and enjoyed the company of his new fluffy but very thin friends. Even Glendel had accepted the wolfsheep as part of the herd after trying to talk about the isue that would pose with everyone in town. No one bothered to talk with him about it and simply ignored him whenever he brought it up) and a shop that literally sold only one rusty blade and something that was more bucket than helmet? That shopowner always had money to buy goods though. Glendel kept an eye on him just in case he found a secret stash of gold or other valuables.
It didn't make any sense and Glendel always noticed whenever something odd happened or didn't make sense. The others must have been under a spell of obliviousness. Probably cast by the late witch, he thought. The speel had to wear of after her demise any day now.
And there he was.
Standing next to the fire and the pile of wilderboar meat, looking even scrawnier than usual in that environment. He had been following XxPurpleHaz3xX the entire evening, watching his every move. Well almost every move. Stalking a prey took discipline. Discipline Glendel totally did not have. He had to stop every 20 minutes to pee into the river or a nearby bush. Also his feet began to hurt after walking and standing so much. He was getting tired of shadowing the local God that had the oddest name he'd ever seen. And he knew Roderick, whose last name actually was "the Greedy". Who even thought about electing that guy, Glendel wondered. When he snapped out of his thoughts, he noticed that the hero was nowhere in sight.
"Damn!", he cried out loud, "I let him get away. He's probably waited for me to not pay attention" Though by that logic, he could have escaped hours ago.
Glendel ran as fast as he could, bumping into his delusional neighbours, who were unaware of the danger they were in. He had no stamina left but carried on running, thinking of his family and friends. He was the only one who knew. The only one who could do something. Then he finally caught a glimpse of a long shadow.
Suddenly Glendels body, rejuvenated by his success, bolted and turned around the corner.
There he saw XxPurpleHaz3xX walking towards the fullmoon and the horizon. He was leaving town. Well.....that was unexpected, he thought. He kept watching the unusual wanderer until he disappeared behind the horizon. He would stand there for a few hours, saying nothing until finally going home.
Edit: Formating Issues | It's always sunny in this village. That's what god wants.
If god could choose the most basic bitch of a town in this land, it would be Barrat. A small village founded by a guild of former council members. They know every time a hero sets on a quest, it needs to start nice and friendly for some reason. But those heroes don't want this. I've seen their quests, their stories, their adventures. I was one of their first ever companions once. I will never go back to that job.
The heroes now have some sort of hoarding problem. If it has any, and I mean ANY monetary value, they'll pick it up, like it's an impulse. Then eventually, they can't pick up any more, and instead on realising they have too much stuff., they'll put hundreds of pounds worth of bowls and watches and other shit on our backs. The worst part, is that's easy to deal with. By the end of their journey, everyone praises and applauds the hero for killing the villain and everything, but they don't know how many innocent rabbits and deer just minding their own business he's murdered just to make a bit more money.
Sadly, I can't say to them that they're a villain at heart, because they'd probably kill me (did I forget to mention they murder anyone they disagree with?) and if he gave up the hero business, it could mean the end of the world. This hero has armour made of of lion bones, and Greek gold, with oversized eagle wings on the back, and a sword 6 ft long made of eternity, with a bleeding buff. He's murdered gargantuan tarantulas, dragons, scorpions, and a band of slavers than span across the Aussie outback. I don't remember how many naked corpses he's left
in his wake. That hero I worked with was an absolute psycho, and I can't let it happen again.
There's a new hero in town. I don't care if he's going to save the land, I'm ending this. I need my sword, boots of stealth and a keyboard. I'll enable permadeath, and end it. | 2017-04-28T05:32:55 | 2017-04-28T04:43:54 | 17 | 12 |
[WP]Humans have reached space, created a galactic empire, and has technology beyond imagination. Well, sorta. Humans ARE a galactic power, but not Earth humans. As it turned out, Earth civilization started the same way Australia's did - dumping unwanted criminals and letting them "have at it". | Rafa grunted as he pushed the final box onto the shelf.
"Who knew zero-grav work could be so ... draining?" he laughed. "Who's ready for dinner?”
His crew gathered wordlessly, eager to take a break and finish the day. It had been a hard one, as usual. Rafa slipped behind the counter and began to dish out the day’s nutrient packets.
“Hey, did ya’ll hear about the—“
'“Yes, we fucking heard the Conglomerate’s announcement.”
“Okay well I was just—“
“Jeremy, fucking shut it.”
Silence.
Rafa peered out from under his copper colored tangle to the faces of each crew member. Jeremy, mouselike and young. He has no idea what he’s in for. Ruby, lithe and beautiful to any eye, but god damn, I would not want to be on the receiving end of her wrath. Schmidt, angular and calculated… and explosive. He once shared one of his prized experiments with me. I had to run to the “little astronauts room” and let go of my lunch. Lastly, Emery. A fucking enigma.
Each crew member had their own ritual when it came to dinnertime. Jeremy grabbed his food and wolfed it down — hah, “wolfed” — funny how language persists. There hasn’t been a wolf sighted on Earth for a generation or more. Anyway, Jeremy finished his food in record time every mealtime, and used the remaining 20 units or so to chat with Ruby.
Ruby would take the entire time to finish her meal. She spread ship manuals out in front of her — ships that she would never work on, never even see. She pored over these schematics while Jeremy prattled on and on about whatever thing. She would nod occasionally, and every once in a while, she would give him her full attention - which of course only encouraged him.
Schmidt, unsurprisingly, was rather antisocial and would’ve preferred to take his dinner in the lab. Rafa had made it clear that collective dinnertime was mandatory, so Schmidt mostly sat in the corner sulking, finishing his meal as quickly as possible, though not rushing back. Rather, he would then attempt to save Ruby some of Jeremy’s grief by trying to interest the young man in his tales from old Earth. It rarely worked.
Lastly, Emery would nearly always cross their legs on the chair - that annoyed Rafa - and ate like a wide eyed 5th grader, knowing they were about to learn something really cool after lunch. And usually, they did.
Today, each followed their meal routine to a nearly extreme degree. There is comfort in ritual, I suppose.
Every person on this crew was chosen for a reason, Rafa reminds himself. It’s hard to remember, sometimes, when there are spats… but each one holds an important position. Which made the recent announcement all that much more concerning.
Rafa sighed audibly, bringing everyone to attention.
“Alright,” he said. “Listen.”
There was a long pause.
“The Conglomerate announced…well, admitted, today, as I’m sure you all know, that Earth was originally a prison colony.” Everyone looked at him as if he had just grown a second head.
"Yeah, yeah, I know you already know that. I know you all knew that years ago, before any of this came up….” … he was struggling.
Ruby offered some solace. “Hey, look, Australia was a prison colony, right? And they did pretty good for themselves.”
Everyone glared at Ruby. “I mean, it’s not fuckin’ great, but it’s where we came from, right?” She doubled down.
Rafa nodded. “At the end of the day… we’re here to do a job. The context of that job doesn’t particularly matter. Live in the present.” He pushed off from the table, taking his tray to the autowasher and hoping to god that everyone else did the same.
Emery stood up abruptly.
“No. Rafa, no! Knowing our history, I cannot in good conscience—“
“Don’t fucking say it.”
“I cannot, in good conscience, leave these people on that planet to die. I cannot.”Rafa sighed heavily.“
Look, at the end of the day, they made their decisi—“
“Rafa, the same could be said for our ancestors, and come on, what the fuck? We have given them no opportunities to improve themselves - and I would fucking know. You know where I came from? My mom raised me in a brothel. My father was a client. That is no judgement on them - they both loved me, in their own ways. They worked so hard to make my life better - to get better jobs, better housing, and where did we end up? We ended up with me, joining the Fleet, so I could send a little money back to mom every pay cycle so she doesn’t have to continue working and living in state funded housing. Dad died of an overdose three years ago, which I might add the state did absolutely nothing to discourage. I’m literally the product of generations of ‘crime’ and you fucking KNOW ME, RAFA. Is it really fair to judge people’s right to live based on their previous actions? Especially knowing that they could potentially produce a productive, happy society?”
“What part of this society is happy and productive, Emery?”
Emery slumped.
They didn’t have an answer.
“It’s not fucking fair,” they said resolutely.
“You know… you’re right,” Rafa said as he slowly made his way into his office. “It’s not fucking fair. But it’s how it is.”
​
\-------
​
This was my very first write here I believe, and I'm very open to any feedback! | Timothy Carver sat in an out-of-the-way corner of the zocalo, people-watching. See the Kishka family, just as comfortable on all four limbs as upright on two, chasing each other around on the green? They usually had litters of six, but this family of twelve is big even by their species' standards. The two adults tower over the children, but will crouch down on the grass so the little ones can properly play-tackle them. Then there's the Chal ya Tcho tearing off strips of whatever the foul, beef-jerky looking stuff they ate was, and feeding the strips into the pair of buzz-saws they called a mouth. He (Tim can tell because of the color and size of his crest) is wearing an atmosphere rig; large insectoids need higher partial-pressures of breathable air. There's a pair of e'Nthi street performers dancing, and the twisting movements of their mostly-naked iridescent bodies combined with diaphanous scarves held in each of their eight manipulating limbs and the bells on their eight ambulatory limbs, are mesmerizing. Most of the other colorful, strange, alien people simply walk past, headed towards the transit tube, or one of the buildings around the edge of the zocalo.
There are some with a more familiar body plan. His instincts insist they are "Human," but strictly speaking, that word only applies to his own subspecies. At least here, where people speak Alefian.
"Ya ka speci tupfo?"
Timothy blinks, and shakes his head. "Sep na. Ya ko satka petas?" *Sorry, what was your question?*
The Alefian woman smiles. "Seye ka nath. Ik teya cha, ya ka speci tupfo?" *Think nothing of it. I just wanted to know, is this seat free?*
"Yes, it is," Timothy says, wondering if she's figured out his accent yet. It helps that Earth has dozens.
She sits. "I hope you don't mind. I can't stand just sitting here without company."
"Not at all."
"Might I ask your name?"
Timothy hesitates. An innocent question. The Alefians have been perfectly courteous, at least in all official capacities. Earth hasn't been treated any different than any other new member planet in the Republic, sometimes the even get a little better. On an individual level, however... few of them were intentionally *mean,* but Tim had run into a few too many who took that Alefian patronizing voice to insulting levels. The other newcomers probably had it worse; they weren't the same species. They couldn't pass.
"Most people call me Tim," he says. The nickname sounds close enough to Alefian not to draw much notice. He leaves off the surname. Alefians almost never use their family names.
"I am Ken Fala," she says, and Tim immediately starts trying to figure out how to exit the conversation. Alefian nobility are the *worst* when it comes to holding a proper conversation. "I work for one of the Senators over there, so I come here a lot. What about you?"
"I'm with a diplomatic office."
"Oh, that must be exciting! Do you travel at all with them?"
"Quite a bit. I've been to Zolta, tCho, and a few other places. What about you? Working for a senator must be interesting."
"Not really. I meet interesting people, but most of the job is just paperwork."
*Edit to correct formatting and a typo* | 2021-08-19T13:59:50 | 2021-08-19T13:31:37 | 24 | 14 |
[WP] Every person is assigned one crime at birth that they can do without repercussions | "It's a boy!" Doctor Murray exclaimed in a muffled voice through his white surgical mask. His brows were raised in evident excitement as he cradled my newborn son.
"Yeah, yeah whatever.. What's his Entitlement?" I replied almost lazily. I could never understand peoples' fascination with gender reveals at birth. I mean, how many other variations were there when it came to the gender of your child? His Entitlement on the other hand... Could take a plethora of unimaginable turns in the form of gifts or curses. Revealing this was definitely way more exhilarating, equivalent to checking lottery stubs. Or maybe it was because I've grown so desensitized towards having children that their genders became immaterial. After all, this was my seventh child with Jess.
I eyed her, and saw how she slumped back into the bed in relief, beads of perspiration peppered across her forehead. It was clear that she knew she would be exempt from conceiving for another few months at the very least. It must've been exhausting to constantly carry a child, and to undergo such pain and discomfort, all for the Organization. And yet such sacrifices were necessary for the betterment of it, which was our sole aim in this life. I almost felt pity for her. Alas, we each have our roles to play.
Doctor Murray wrapped #7 up in navy quilts before handing him over to me gingerly, careful not to reveal the tiny words at the base of his nape. It was a courtesy, parents would get the first look of the newborn's Entitlement. They would have to report it to the Organization eventually of course. However, this was a kindly gesture on the doctor's part to exclude himself from this supposedly intimate moment.
I receive #7 almost impatiently and glanced down at his face, where I paused for a second, surprised at how calm and serene he was. I could've sworn I almost felt a tinge of fatherly emotions, before it vanished completely, lost to me forever. I turned him over gently, and glanced down on the words at the back of his neck.
"Murder"
I gasped silently, and reeled from the word which I had just read. #7 is a Class A baby! Approximately less than 1% of the world's population was gifted with Class A Entitlements. Heck, most of the Entitlements in recent years had been mild and unimportant across the Organization. In fact, all six of my children prior had useless Entitlements, which meant that my standing with the Organization had fallen rapidly. For someone who once held lofty appointments and important roles, I became the butt of jokes and was relegated to the outer circle. I could still taste the disbelief and profound fear in my mouth on that fateful day.
Prostitution- that was my heir's Entitlement.
The feelings of resentment welled up in me again, but were instantly subdued by the pride I now felt in my chest. This peaceful boy was going to become someone important!
"Murder." I spoke it out loud this time, aware that this was no dream or hallucination of mine. My seventh child would eventually be elevated to the honorable role of Hitman when he was of age. Producing a Hitman would inevitably send Jess and I back to the ranks of the inner circle, where we would have direct access to the Chairman.
Doctor Murray's eyes strained wide open in obvious shock. Even he had never delivered a Class A baby. This would undoubtedly aid with his Organization standings as well.
He took a step forward and fished out his phone before pressing several buttons on the keypad and handed it over to me.
"This is Andre of the second order, reporting the Entitlement of my seventh born son. It's Murder. Arrange for the entire premises to be secured at once, and send reinforcements over. You know how important a Class A baby is to the Chairman, especially with the ongoing war against the other faction."
"Copy that. Sending reinforcements to secure the perimeter in 3...2....1..."
| "It's opening day," my mother ecstatically exclaimed.
You see, people under the rule of the Federation for Global Peace, to combat the rampancy of crime, is given their "ticket," which allows them to commit any crime, whenever. Some win the lottery, with an estimated 1/1000000 people allowed to murder whomever they want, but others are more common, with 1/10 people being allowed to get away with speeding.
We techincally aren't allowed to open these until we either turn 19 years old or commit the crime in question, but most people just ignore this rule, because what government has the time to check billions of physical pieces of paper? But alas, my mother is very strict about following the laws that govern our country.
"Come on, open it," my mother, almost too ecstatically exclaims. She hands me her trusty letter opener (she's uses it for robbery), and I cut open the letter in a mundane fashion.
My eyes open with fear as I see the first letter"m" as I pull out the letter, and I suddenly yank the letter out.
I breathe a sigh of relief as I see the words "money laundering." After all, I would have been ostracized for the rest of my life if I had gotten murder as my crime. I don't want that power.
"Ooh, that's a good one," my mother coos. "You'll be nice and rich with that one. Now go to class. I'll be home with someone else's dinner at 6." | 2018-04-03T21:50:13 | 2018-04-03T20:38:48 | 61 | 19 |
[WP] The angry god looked down at the unknown mortal. "You will show deference to the gods mortal!" He bellowed. The mortal shook his head. "You might be a god, but I'm the developer." Suddenly the god was unable to move. | "MORTAL, YOU DARE GAZE UPON ME, NZRAXAL, GOD OF THE 5TH PLANE OF TORMENT, AND DO NOT BOW? YOU WILL SHOW DEFERENCE TO ME, INSIGNIFICANT CHILD"
The enormous mound of writhing tentacles screamed in languages long forgotten by time, but yet the mortal standing before him stood his ground, appearing almost bored by the dialog. Nzraxal's tentacles surged towards the lone man, when suddenly they were met with resistance that stopped their torrent dead in their tracks. An invisible barrier of protection coated the human from all sides, preventing any advance towards him by the unholy abomination.
"WHAT? WHAT MAGIC IS THIS THAT PROTECTS YOU? YOU DARE TO DEFY ME HUMAN?"
The solitary man gazes up towards what one could consider the old gods face and says flatly "I understand that you are the most powerful being in this realm, but to put it bluntly, you're currently going through routine balancing. You see, in a way, I created you and-"
"NO ONE CREATED NZRAXAL, I WAS BORN OF ALL OF THE WORLDS SUFFERING COMBINED, I AM UNFATHOMABLE-"
The old god's speech instantly became hung up in his throat, the man below fiddling around with what appeared to be a hologram floating in front of him. Though unable to express himself, the old god radiated raw hatred towards the man.
"Alright, now I can skip through all of your dialog. Earlier today it seemed there was a bug in the game, which was allowing players to kill you far too quickly in your first phase, something about your armor levels being allowed to dip into the negatives, you're basically a loot piñata at this point Nzraxal, lets see if we can give you some teeth back, you're supposed to be a T10 boss afterall."
The man rapidly clicked through several menus floating in front of him, and a dull light began to shine around the horrid beast, though it did not appear to be harming him. If anything, Nzraxal seemed to bask in the radiating glow, and retracted his tentacles from around the figures barrier. A rhythmic groaning could ever so silently be heard from his maw, despite being muted. When the glow subsided, the man instantly vanished from Nzraxal's sight. Nzraxal pondered the curious mans appearance, and what magic he worked upon him. He didn't feel harmed, he felt, well, better than ever. His hide felt immensely tough, like no blade forged in hell, heaven, or earth could hope to penetrate him. While pondering these thoughts, he began to feel the presence of others near his abyssal realm. These intruders felt much different than his more recent visitor... much weaker, and more grounded in reality. He listened intently to hear their conversations amongst themselves as they walked ever closer to his floating platform.
"Yeah guys, this fights actually busted right now, all the main tank needs to do is spam shield slam and it drops his armor into the negatives, total pushover after. Just don't step on the red tiles, and we can skip his enrage phase all together LOL. Total joke of a boss, you'll see"
​
Nzraxal internally grinned at his fortune, a fresh meal so soon. The next time he saw the strange man, he would have to thank him.
​
First post. Hope yall like it. | "You forget, I CREATED THIS REALM."
His pointed teeth showed as he grinned. "You are only my creation. Made to protect and guard this realm."
His hand clenched into a fist, as he chuckled lowly.
"Wha- what do you mean? Who ARE you?" The God, now frightened, looked down to the mortal. His power was unmatched.
"I am Razi, developer of this dark realm, and you are but a mere guard with a power trip compared to me. I may be mortal, but I am by far more powerful than you."
A flame ring circled under the guard. "And you have disobeyed your purpose."
The God was destroyed by Razi. "Let this be a lesson to you other gods, not to go against what you're meant for," Razi told the other gods, and disappeared into a plume of purplish-black smoke.
(I'm not a good writer or creative in any way so I'm very sorry if you dislike it. I don't write much. Also I decided to use my character who isn't human, to describe why he has pointed teeth.) | 2021-05-31T01:53:32 | 2021-05-31T00:26:39 | 29 | 12 |
[WP] Marines don't die; they go to hell and regroup. Literally. The prince of darkness and his demons wage a losing war against an ever-increasing number of ultra-violent, disgruntled marine forces. As the devil you literally fought God once, but this is the first time you've felt truly powerless | "Thank you sir! May I please have another?"
"Are you an Angel? Surely this is a test." The demon seemed frustrated.
"Lance Corporal Adam Tomlin. United States Marine Corps. I feel like my serial number might be wasted." The guy strapped to the wall was shockingly young.
"I have cut you up and sewn you together countless times. How can you still joke?"
"Come closer and I'll tell you." He grinned through red streaked teeth.
"You have nothing of interest to share with me human."
"No I just wanted to distract you for the Gunny." He barked out a mirthless laugh.
"What is a-" The demon's question was cut short by a razor blade going through its throat.
"Bout time you got here." Tomlin said sincerely. Gunnery Sergeant Rodriguez went to work cutting the younger Marine down from the wall.
"We're linking up with a bunch of guys from the Seventh." Rodriguez grunted. "They hit the armory."
"So we're on schedule?"
"Just about." Rodriguez stepped back to catch Tomlin as he collapsed. "C'mon. On your feet Marine."
"What's the armament situation look like?" Tomlin rose shakily. The two marines moved stealthily down a dimly lit stone corridor.
"Stone age as of right now. The Seventh showed up with a bunch of archery gear. This really is hell." Rodriguez laughed.
They stopped short of another guard. Rodriguez stabbed this guard through the neck again.
An arrow took a second demon that the marines hadn't spotted.
"Flash." Rodriguez called.
"Thunder." Came the response.
The Seventh MEU's response meant that the route was clear. The men from the Seventh were with a motley assortment of other damned souls. All of them Marines.
"Good to see you Gunny." A man in a blood stained lieutenants uniform greeted them.
"This is Private Mike Atkins 1943 and Private John Abrams 1874."
Abrams was twirling the dead demons cutlass experimentally.
"Pleasure." Rodriguez nodded.
"Likewise." Atkins said.
The lieutenant was backed by a dozen more marines in more modern uniforms.
"Where's your unit?"
"They were transferred to a different cell block apparently." Whispered Rodriguez
One of the LT's men passed Tomlin a short sword.
"You two take point."
"Yessir." Almost in unison.
Rodriguez signaled the others to move forward.
"Fuckers can't fight worth shit." One of the marines remarked as they advanced.
"Whole lot of teeth and nothing to back it up." Another voice agreed.
Tomlin raised a closed fist to halt the column an instant before they rounded another corner. A fireball pulverized the brick just ahead of the young soldiers face.
He peeked around it and saw a large demon readying another one.
"One shooter. No check that. Two archers just behind him."
"What's the plan sir?" A marine asked the lieutenant.
"Jenkins pass me that axe." The response came after a moments pause.
"Daniels. Keep them surprised." Rodriguez said quickly.
A marine armed with a bow and a quiver of arrows smirked and peered around the corner.
Another fireball demolished a part of the wall. Daniels fired three arrows in quick succession and took cover again.
The lieutenant was in the process of prying a door off of its hinges with the hilt of the axe.
"Let's show em why they call us Devil Dogs." The LT passed the heavy door to two massively built marines.
"Retreat."
"Hell!" A chorus. A call and response dating back to the First World War. The two Marines carrying the door ran around the corner at a full sprint, the others falling in behind them.
The door knocked the demon off of its feet and Private Abrams quickly finished it off. The other two were dispatched just as quickly with blades looted from dead comrades.
"Keep moving! We've got work to do Marines."
They sprinted into the bowels of Hell. | Satan was hiding behind a massive rock as the bullets were flying around him. Along him were several of his demoralized soldiers which were shooting back from time to time, knowing that it would have little effect.
This whole mess actually started several hundred years ago. Normally all soldiers coming down to hell would be scared shitless. But then there was one who always defied and was hardly to break. Over the time those kind of soldiers became more. They would try to break out, injure or even kill guards and sabotage the facility whenever they could. Killing them was impossible since this is already the afterlife for humans. And putting them into isloation cells also wasnt a good solution. Every cell was made for one person and now in the year 2017 there were at least 10 people in every cell. And the stream of fallen soldiers wouldnt stop.
And so the numbers of rebels kept growing. The so called marines were the worst.
Respectless, foul mouthed and now that they didnt had to fear death, completely ruthless. And they freed other prisoners and made them join them.
The head of one of the demons shooting back just blew off.
Another one tried to run but was riddled with holes before he took his second step.
Suddenly Satan and his soldiers started to hear something else than gunshots.
"Wait, whats that?"
The sound came closer together with the sound of chopper blades.
"Isnt that a synfony of Wagner?"
"Is this what I am thinking?"
"Yes sir and its even worse than in the original. This times the choppers are filled with marines......." | 2017-01-15T03:01:29 | 2017-01-14T23:12:55 | 29 | 18 |
[WP] "I'm sorry," the hero apologized to the fallen villain. "What for?" they grunted, their eyes full of hate. The hero, with a solemn face, admitted, "You were supposed to be the hero of the story, and I, the villain." | “I’m Sorry,”
The words came down on him like the hardest sword strike. He looked up at her, her lithe form hidden beneath layers of steel and chain mail, the assassin’s blade a few inches from his throat.
“What?” he asked, almost unconsciously, “What did you say?” The blade fell, and she knelt, to be eye level with him, everything he had done: all the good he sought to achieve: if only people knew their fucking place; he could’ve saved every one. And now he was being apologized to, like an insolent child. That dark monstrous mask flew off of her face and struck the ground. She looked at him, face to face, his chest ached a little, watching her now. He let the blood flourish: and now what was a scared girl was a prime fighter. The bruises and cuts around her face barely even shone out to him.
“I’m sorry.” She said, using the end of her blade to support herself.
“What for? You’ve won. I’m undone, just end it now, earn your pay, Assassin.”
“This isn’t how it was supposed to go.”
He stopped for a moment, froze in place. Holding the wrist where his hand used to be, and when he looked up at her: he felt as if he could freeze the world still with the emblematic rage that struck behind his eyes.
“What the Fuck, are you talking about?” He grunted, the strength to shout no lost to him, watching as his armies shattered and fled from the field of battle: only their broken forms and ragged banners, the remnants of his greatness quite literally disintegrating around him.
“In every vision of this battle, you win. Even before I knew who you were, what you stood for. I saw this place.” She said, looking around the broken bodies of the bloodied battlefield, “And I saw you, standing triumphant over the last resisting forces. Over a field of blood and broken bones. The dark red turning to a prosperous field. Now I see nothing. The thread has severed.”
“You’re- you’re a seer?” He said, his rage drained through the stump of his wrist and pooled onto the floor in a sicky dark red. She closed her fist as if trying to conjure something: only a wisp of smoke produced from the effort.
“I was. But the Gods are fickle, and they take as much as they give.” She declared, in the same kind of authoritative tone of a pagan priest, ripping the heart of a goat from its chest to divine their strange gods.
“You speak in riddles, like all your kind.” He growled, trying to rise to his feet. Collapsing in vain. “There is no such thread of fate. History is written by the victor.”
“That makes you the villain.”
“And that makes you the hero,” He smirked at this realization. It made him sick to consider it, that a heathens witch could overcome him: that a wretch consorting with dark deities could overturn his righteous campaign. “Then both our souls are dammed, Witch. And whatever God is out there, he has abandoned me.” It was then that he saw something new, something he had seen in no other heathen before. Compassion. She took his hand in hers, clasped it in both of hers, and said in a low voice.
“You will be with your good soon. Rest now. Your troubles are over.” He laughed, to no one in particular.
“Assassin and a Seer. How could I compete.” He laughed, after a moment, she laughed too. His laugh trailed off with a harsh wheeze, she could see his eyes turn cloudy. Words were on his lips, but before he could say them. The blood loss caught up, and he slumped to the ground: dead. She let his hand fall, then slumped back, sitting on the damp grass. For once, the future was uncertain: the visions had ended and she was able to see, first-hand the horrible reality before her. She looked at the marks on her hand, offerings to the Gods for their power, and what that power had given her. | "What is supposed to be and what is are two wholly different things." Amarant the paladin sighed out in frustration. "Neither of us can stop our natures any more then a wolf can stop hunting the stag."
Job the bandit pursed his lips. "Ain't it in a paladin's nature to help the needy? Save the weak and whatnot?" He'd already mangled amarant's sword arm something fierce, and his other arm was chained to a shield, so he wasn't terribly worried about what he might do.
"Paladins serve the church. The church demands tribute to offer to the less fortunate. These people provided food for the hungry, at least they did until you came around."
"So you burn their homes and slaughter their families?" Job asked, more wounded by the Holy knight's words then by the cut he had landed across his chest. "Don't be thinkin' they'll be in much shape to feed anyone for a while on account of this."
"Those who turn their back on the church deserve every ounce of helfire and brimstone that can be brought to bear on them." Amarant spoke with venom in his words. "Do all bandits toy with their prey like this before they strike?"
"Naw, I'm a bit strange." Job admitted, reaching down to pull amarant's helmet off and set it right beside his head. There was no terror in his flawless blue eyes, though they rested over the dark heavy bags that carried his regrets. "Now hold still." Job put his boot on the cold steel breastplate that kept amarant safe throught his carrier.
And job brought his axe down.
Before job left however, he turned and looked at the man. "I'll be sending this to your precious church." Job declared holding the mangled helmet in one hand. "Your name is... Rodrick, you look like a Rodrick to me. Help fix what amarant did here, maybe folks will start to forgive you. Maybe you'll start to forgive yourself." | 2021-08-19T06:30:25 | 2021-08-19T06:06:17 | 34 | 13 |
[WP] You've never left your hometown due to bad luck, and you've just kept putting it off. Today at the airport, the gate agent apologizes and says your license is expired and invalid. It's not. You timidly challenge the claim, and suddenly the entire airport goes quiet and all eyes fixate on you. | Noticing everybody staring I ducked my head and gave up. All of a sudden just like before the hustle and bustle of the airport continues like nothing ever happened. I start to make my way to my apartment, and I can’t help but feel as if someone is watching me. I survey my surroundings and notice nothing, but can’t shake the feeling.
I throw myself in bed and start to cry. Feeling as if I’m trapped in this miserable town and can’t get out.
Waking the next morning I lay in bed. “What is the meaning of this life!” I shout in a hoarse voice. That’s when I notice a neatly folded piece of parchment on my desk. “Was that there last night?” I ask myself. I make my way to the letter and look at the name. “Jonathon” in the neatest penmanship I’ve ever seen.
“Was this there when I came In last night?” I asked myself. It may have, I was pretty distraught last night.
“KNOCK KNOCK” the pounding on the door sent shivers down my spine. As I look at the door I notice another letter, and in bold letters it read. “JUMP FROM YOUR WINDOW NOW!” The knocks became louder and more persistent. I’m stunned. No way I’m going to jump, it’s three stories. I hear a big burley man roar “BOY! Open up!” That’s the kings servant. What is he doing here I thought. At that moment he burst through the door. When he did, the pressure in the room pushed my window ajar. I knew then, JUMP!
Plummeting to what I think is my death I land in a cart hauling leathers and raw sheeps wool. Dazed, I gather my composure. All of a sudden the cart comes to a halt. “Hey boy, get out of my goods!” “Why does everyone call me boy?” I wondered. Shaking it off I run, And find the nearest inn. I walk in non chalantly hoping no one will notice me. Luckily no one does. I need to read this letter I thought. So I made my way to a table and took a seat. The waitress appears “what’ll you be havin? We have a good barley soup and an old loaf of bread if you’ll have it, and some okay ale if I don’t say so myself” “uhh thanks but I’ll just have a glass of ale please.” I said in what I hoped was a calm and friendly manner. “A glass of ale it is then” the waitress said as she sauntered off to get me my ale. It’s at this time I notice that I’m the only guest in the inn. “Hmm, that’s strange.” I thought.
I remove the letter from my pocket and look it over. That’s when I notice the wax seal. It’s a letter P with what looks like two olive branches behind it. “This seal seems familiar yet it doesn’t” I thought. I open the letter and start to read. “Jonathon, if you’re reading this letter then that means you’ve made it to the flying boar” at that time the waitress makes her way back to my table and sits my mug on the table “the finest ale the flying boar has to offer.” She said. “Thanks” I murmured confusedly.
“We’ve been waiting for you, for a very long time. You’ve broken the spell, and it won’t be long before they find you here. I know you have a lot of questions, and in time you’ll get answers. Trust no one they’re all remnants of the spell meant to entrap you. Just know that you are the last of the Paxaferro name. The bringer of peace. You will set this world straight and end the reign of evil, and destruction. You are the true king, and our last hope. Follow these instructions precisely and we will be waiting for you...” | Why is everyone staring at me? I'm not a terrorist. I've never done anything wrong in my life. I've followed every law and rule. I've been an outstanding citizen my entire life! But this was uncalled for. Such a scene for what I perceive is something mundane.
"Surely something is wrong with your scanner, I just renewed my license a few months ago".
The eyes of onlookers began to bring sweat to my face.
"Sir," the security guard said sternly, "I must insist you step aside with us for further questioning".
My mind racing and not understanding exactly what was happening I said ," surely this is a mistake, you can call the DMV and confirm I was there and renewed my license!"
"We will look into what is necessary, but I really need you to come with us... Nathan." Replied the guard with insistent fury.
I felt like I had no choice, I follow the guards as everyone in the terminal watched intently. We walked across back hall ways for what seemed like the better part of a mile.
"In here, please, sit and make yourself comfortable". This time the guard spoke softly and comforting, or as comforting as he could given the previous conversation.
"This looks way to comfortable.. am I under arrest? Can i call my lawyer? What did I do?" I frantically lash back hoping to gain information.
"No, and I hope you soon understand, you are not here by accident, but we are here to help you, forgive me for anything that happens after this." Spoken with a saddened yet prideful response by the guard. | 2018-04-25T18:23:26 | 2018-04-25T16:13:24 | 82 | 26 |
[WP] At the age of twelve you started randomly seeing a green line and a red line appear on the ground. You always followed the green line and have lived a successful and happy life. Ten years later you are on top of the world, but bored. Time to see where the red line leads. | We were at Walmart...Dad told me I could pick anything up for my birthday present, thats about the first time I noticed it, there it was.... On the floor a distinct green line and on the opposite side a red line, this one was a little less brighter, it had a very bleak bright to it.
I followed the green line to see where it lead me to, I rapidly chased it from the Toy Section into the book section of the store. There it was waiting for me "Influence: The psychology of persuasion"... My first thought was, "oh well what the actual fuck, some lines appear, Im thinking magic and here i am, it led me to a... a book?" I figured out whatever so i picked the thing and took it to my dad.
"What you got there buddy?"
"Here i think this is what i want"
"oh well thats interesting, how do you know about this book?"
"I followed an imaginary green line"
Of course he never believed me that day on my twelveth birthday, but that green line was a game changer, I read the book and acquired an understanding on how "influencing people!" worked, the green line lead me not only in the physical plane but also on the Virtual.
It took me everywhere, youtube links, apps, websites, stores. It made me buy all sorts of books with valuable knowledge, seemingly making me take and incredibly constructive and positive route.
I woke up one day in the middle of the night, the dark red line was humming, it always had this atmosphere to it. I had never really followed it because the green line always kept me so busy, but today I was too curious, I had done everything the green line hinted me too, this had landed me a decent job, i got a nice car, a house even...but where could the red line take me to?
I followed it for the first time... the red line took me to a bench on a hill, and i sat there as it hummed as if it were pleased, the red color finally picked up a much brighter aspect, It had taken me to see the sunset, to be surrounded by nature, and this was the moment i realized the conflict between these lines became clear.
I remeber my green line hinted at a book "Steppenwolf" by Herman Hesse, and I think i understood that the green line was my human side, and this red line was my inner wolf. It was the part of me that desired to crumble to my more instinctual self....
The lines came closer together. They had never done that.
I kept following the red line for a while, it took me on amazing adventures across the world, it incited me to leave my job, sell my house and car and travel with nothing but what was on me. I swam on the red sea, I ate olives in athens, I walked in the harsh cold of Siberia.
The lines became very close to each other and started forming a third line. This one had a yellowish tint.
I wanted to follow this line, I wasnt to neglect all of the progress made by the green by inmersing myself in the indulgence of self absorbed adventure of the red.
I had found balance.
Notice: Im sorry for spelling mistakes. English isnt my first language.
| I was finally there, at the top of the world. Around me I could see all of my journey highlighted in green, culminating in this moment. After soaking it all in and feeling quite pleased with myself for awhile, boredom slowly crept in.
I started glancing at the red line and wondering its destination. I resolved to follow it to the end as the green line had helped me so much. Standing and taking the first few steps reminded me of being twelve and first choosing the green line. The sense of wonder returned as I walked down the path. While daydreaming of my first encounter with the green line the red line led me off the path. My last conscious thoughts were a spinning whirl as boulders and sky repeatedly switched positions.
You hear a booming voice reading "You have died. To choose the other path turn to page 92." | 2017-08-23T08:58:51 | 2017-08-23T06:39:05 | 100 | 15 |
[WP] Unbeknown to most of the world, February 29th actually happens every year, but only those born on the day experience it. | February the 29th is a strange day. According to the calendar, for the normal people, it only happens once every four years.
For us who were born on February 29th, it happens every year. Everything else, from animals to people who have other birthdays, freezes. They just...stop. They don't move, breathe, blink, or anything. Have you ever seemed to wake up on March 1st feeling a lot more rested than other mornings? That's because you essentially get an extra 24 hours of sleep...I think.
My first February 29th I remember was when I was three years old. I woke up in the morning at the usual time, only to find that my family wouldn't get up. I thought they were dead. Terrified and unsure of what to do, I hid under my covers for a long time until I heard a knock on the door. Desperate and hopeful, I ran to the door to see a young man dressed in a coat and jeans. Following my parents rule of not opening the door for strangers, I proceeded to have a conversation with him through the glass door.
His name was David. He told me that my family was okay and that I would see them tomorrow. I just needed to stay calm and stay inside the house. After almost an hour, he said he had to go and I shut the door as he walked down my street to his car. The rest of the day I spent watching TV and eating snacks, and, knowing that my family was okay, it was rather fun.
Since then, David has returned to my house every February 29th and we've become really great friends. I've jumped in with his crowd, the people who call themselves the twenty-ninethers. We've been instrumental in helping others like ourselves and keeping the more wild ones in line. People tend to rob banks and jewelry stores when the 29th rolls around.
For me, however, the thing I like to do is what David did for me. Help the young ones out. Before the twenty-ninethers became organized and started keeping tabs on everyone born on the 29th, infant mortality rates were high. They'd go an entire day without any care and come the 1st, a lot of them would have died. A few people who luckily survived the 29th as children then went on to find each other and invest money in resources. The 29th is my favorite day of the year, usually, because it's fun to get together with people from all around the country (we usually find a middle point to meet and bring younger kids and teenagers). It's also peaceful--walking through the streets of New York, the only sound you hear is your footsteps. Driving down the highway at 120 miles an hour without being afraid of getting pulled over. All the things we do, from protecting babies to thrilling actions, define who I am.
I'm glad I was born on the 29th of February.
**EDIT: If you liked this, please check out my other writings at /r/penofigilix/. It would mean a lot. Thanks!**
| "That time of year again!" Randy jumped out of bed, hastily putting on his nicest buttoned shirt. He grabbed his white sneakers and headed out the door. Silence prevailed around the neighborhood. Randy skipped to the park, gleefully whistling his favorite tunes. "Ten AM by the water fountain. How can I forget?" He sang to himself. The water in the fountain sparkled in the sunlight. Randy checked his phone, reading 9:45, Monday, February 29th. He heard a small, feminine voice from behind him. "I was almost convinced that you'd forget about today." Randy turned around, wrapping her in his arms. "Don't be silly. Happy birthday."
| 2015-10-18T10:38:14 | 2015-10-18T10:13:04 | 169 | 36 |
[WP] Life on Earth evolved within an “FTL Dead Zone” a region of space where all known forms of FTL travel were deemed physically impossible. As such, it was quite a shock when an unknown species suddenly appeared from the Dead Zone one day calling themselves “Humanity” Having done the impossible... | Writing this on my phone at work, apologies for any mistakes.
A lovely person (u/blu_ski) has narrated this story: https://youtu.be/ozrQ-fu6nV0
And another lovely person! (u/Spartawolf): https://youtu.be/WjN13TVf238
___________________________________________________
The Atrium was abuzz with chatter, many languages and strange sounds all fighting for dominance, to be heard. The cacophony echoed around the large chamber, resident to the many hundreds of species positioned in boxes adorning the walls. In the centre was a group of 5 astronauts, each looking particularly overwhelmed.
At the sound of a loud bang, the chatter stopped. The representative of the Unified Galactic Systems placed their gavel aside, and spoke:
"Beings from the Dead Zone. We apologise for bringing you here so soon after first contact, but there is much to discuss. Are you aware of the feat you have accomplished?"
Four of the astronauts looked to the fifth, their Commander, who stepped forward.
"Respectfully..."
"You may address me as Speaker."
"...Speaker. There are many feats we have achieved today. First contact with not just one alien species, but an entire galactic community! We are also the first humans to leave our solar system, while simultaneously achieving the fastest speeds any human being has ever traveled before. To which are you referring?"
"We are, of course, referring to your craft. The method of travel in which you arrived here. It is... most peculiar."
"With all due respect, Speaker, surely your methods of faster than light travel are far superior to our own? Ours is but the first working iteration of our technology, after all."
"One would think so, but you see, you have emerged from a section of dead space. An area of the universe from which the usual laws of physics behave in constrained ways. Faster than light travel is simply not possible. Therefore we ask... how are you here?"
The astronauts appeared stunned, and turned to speak to each other. After a short period of time, the commander again stepped forward.
"My apologies, Speaker, but this explains a great many things. Namely, that we were never visited despite our many greetings broadcast into the cosmos. That we struggled to produce a system with the necessary power to propell us vast distances, despite the mathematics saying it was possible."
"Indeed, the dead zone acts as a speed barrier. The power required to pass this barrier would be astronomical, even for ourselves. So how did you do it?"
"We developed a drive that effectively... shifts us. Space is folded around the craft, then we are simply accelerated through the field. As space is folded around the craft, there is nothing to prohibit our acceleration, and no forces are acted upon the craft, allowing us to withstand the speeds."
This caused a stir among the species present, many voices called out, the automatic translators failing to keep up. The Speaker turned to their scientific advisors, of which each was entirely stunned by the sheer amount of science and mathematics required for such an achievement. The Speaker once again lifted the gravel and called for silence.
"How do you propel yourselves without the gravitational forces of space? How do you leave your planet without space to travel through?"
"Our vessels are powered by chemical rocket boosters, which launch us from our planet. The same principles apply in phase space, which can only be used in orbit to avoid warping our planet's own gravitational sphere. Each maneuver is calculated to make effective use of our fuel. Is this not true of the rest of the galaxy?"
With this the multitude of species could not remain silent, and the sounds of the many voices became entirely uncontrollable.
This marked the emergence of Humanity, a species of remarkable engineers, scientists and mathematicians the known galaxy had never seen before. For the galaxy in the living space had never had to produce such technologies, each achieving space flight as simply as they produced the wheel, never requiring the advanced mathematical equations Humanity had needed simply to reach their own moon.
Humanity had crawled from the depths of a dark, restricted space.
They had ventured down the road not travelled.
And they arrived in the light. | "But how was FTL travel impossible?"
"Your world is in a sector that's referred to as the Dead Zone. Your region has 100 times the amount of gravitational anomalies than other parts of the galaxy. As a result, normal methods of FTL were deemed impossible. How did you do it?" The creature's features were very much shocked and disturbed. I saw this same expression on every other species.
I gave a curt nod, and proceeded to explain my success. "I used some quantum theories to warp the physics of space-time to make the galaxy essentially one hundredth its actual size, at least to the craft in question. It did take us at least 20 or so years to get it right, because we had some horrific accidents in the past couple of experiments. We are just as shocked as you were that it worked."
"Impressive. Most impressive. We had to use the principals of hyperspace for most of our travel."
"I now have so many questions." *George Lucas knew more than he let on.*
"So, gravitational anomalies, calculated hyperspace routes, hyperdrives, nava computers, that's all true?!"
"You know of lightspeed travel?"
"One of our own kin presented those concepts in a story that's pretty damn famous right now. But almost all of our calculations stated that it was not possible according to our current knowledge of physics, so we turned to other methods." He may now be long gone, but if he was alive, I would have had so many questions.
"Interesting." They now had every ounce of their attention turned towards us now. They at least weren't all looking terrified now. And we definitely needed them to not be shocked at us all the time. | 2021-01-09T11:57:45 | 2021-01-09T10:03:28 | 2,685 | 226 |
[WP] “Look, I know your species wants to wipe out all others who are weaker than you, but basing that off physical strength and not technological is a great way to go extinct.” said the human. | "We do not understand."
"Look at this," said the human, pointing at herself, "my limbs are weak, I have precious little bones to protect my organs, virtually every predator on my home planet will shred me if I don't use tools to defend myself."
"Then you shall die."
The shadows grew, the ground shook and split in their growth, such a strength it rewrote the rules of what was and wasn't in its wake. Sonia was delighted to witness such a creature with her waking eyes, that it was trying to kill her did not bother her in the least.
"Let me finish. I wouldn't trade my weakness for anything else."
It stops, surprised, struggling to understand. In a world made by the strong for the strong, holding onto weakness was suicide.
"Why do I live. Why am I still alive, me who belongs to such a pitiful species?"
"Luck."
"No, sickness would have gotten to us, predators or even ourselves. God we're good at being our own worst enemy. And yet, here I am, standing before one of the mightiest creatures this universe has ever known. In other times, religions would have been with a single glimpse of you."
"It is natural to follow the strong."
"But I don't, and I'm weak. Why don't I?"
It shook and whistled, opening and clenching appendixes.
"We do not know."
Sonia opened her arms large, encompassing a tiny bit of the mighty beast.
"We even have the technology to make us stronger, sturdier, yet have forsaken it."
"But why?" the poor thing was lost before this alien philosophy, this violation of common sense made flesh.
"It was beautiful. Machines made each one of us beautiful, strong. We did not die of old age, wrinkled and sick, we simply went to sleep forever when our time was up, beautiful as always. But beauty and strength scared us. Because we had it all.
"You see, we fought and searched for centuries for means to attain perfection, a perfection not unlike yours. Strength, intelligence, the right amount of social need and independence to work flawlessly in society. And we found a way, it may be the greatest work humanity has ever produced. When the flip was switched on, we cheered planet-wide. Earth's most beautiful day.
"But then, we learned to fear. Fear our beauty, our love, our perfect community, perfect body, perfect life. Artists ceased to paint and write, for we had written it all already, perfect and not to be bettered. We stopped inventing, devising, tinkering, for we had it all. In perfection and strength, we have become stale. With happiness and love and health, there was little more to find. We had all the strength in the world, could reshape ourselves and the world we lived on... yet we couldn't go onward.
"We did something, something beyond stupid, so utterly mad it was beautiful in itself. We broke the machines, burnt the records, reverted to being old, frail, weak, prone to killing each other. And it was great!"
Sonia was booming now, nearly hysterical. And the being started to feel unwell, at this vulnerable little thing so delighted at its own returning weakness.
"We killed, and found better ways to kill. We burned and had to find methods to make dead lands alive again. With our weakness, we built crutches, and the crutches can only keep getting better, for we will never be perfect, as intended."
Sonia turned towards the being, her eyes red with murder, the taste of blood on her tongue.
"But you... with your pristine body, your flawless defense, your alteration of the self and the reality around you, you're almost a god," Sonia clenched her fists, "a perfect god, an example to imitate with little above in the way of betterment. You-"
The station rumbled, the being looked around in shock.
"-are an *affront* to everything we stand for, you are a stale world, a stale universe. We loathe perfection," she was screaming now, "we loathe you, and let me assure you..."
The station was breaking apart, the bombardment had begun in earnest.
The being never would have thought that humans would willingly sacrifice their supreme leader for a chance to kill it.
And worse.
The human seemed to relish her position.
"...we will rid the universe of a stain such as you, we will keep it dark and grim and cold and lonely and *insane*! this is our coming universe," Her voice pierced through the echoes of the bombardment, "a place of struggle where we will push the boundaries, a world of pigs digging in the innards of the dead, our children shall walk in mud and bones, the smell of mustard gas in their nostrils. Palaces made of skulls and burnt history, graves in ice and glorified ignorance."
A blast tore the wall open, air was sucked out of the room, the being and Sonia followed. It caught the edges and held still with exceptional strength. Sonia collided with him and broke her body.
Through the roaring sound of the pressure dropping and under the pain of her broken bones, Sonia found the strength for one more sentence.
"But as supreme leader of humanity, let me assure you that this is nothing personal."
She pressed a button in her pocket, and the supreme leader blew to bits, taking the being with her. |      “You humans are quite ignorant of alien species, while you have minds and bodies equipped to build all of these inventions that cover up your weaknesses; Golems have bodies and minds equipped to function without these creations of mankind.” the elephant sized creature made of stone said.
     Challenging the golem the man said, “If your minds and bodies are so great then why did you ask humans to build so many things for your kind?”
     “The 'things' that we requested of humans were buildings to house all of the spoils we will gather from warring with this planet. Those same buildings, although they are convenient, are not necessary. There is not one thing that the technology of humans can make that golems need.”
Taken aback by the brazenness of the golem’s statement the human scrambled to come up with reasons that technology was necessary.
     The golem continued, “At the creation of your kind did you possess these mighty tools to kill or create? Why is it that they are now necessary?”
     Finally getting an idea the human spoke triumphantly.“Efficiency. Technology allows for tasks to be done quicker and without wasting time, this allows you time to do other things.”
The mouth of the monolithic creature opened to let out a boom of deep laughter.
     “Humans are the only creatures so lazy as to create machines to do their jobs. Your lives are so short that is almost makes sense for you to delegate your duties alas most humans do absolutely nothing in the off time they get.”
     Noticing that the conversation was listing out of control, the human made one last plea to stop the extinction of mankind.
     “You just don’t understand humanity! Why don’t you observe us and our lifestyle? Maybe you could learn something useful.”
The idea was a desperate one and had little chance of succeeding, but a small chance remained.
     “You are right to say that we do not understand humans completely. That is a fact that we will live with until our own species fades from existence. But for now only the strong or purposeful can exist in this universe. Farewell human.” | 2022-04-16T12:22:23 | 2022-04-16T10:52:17 | 1,409 | 57 |
[WP] You are reincarnated as a voice within a schizophrenic's head. | When I woke up I was in someone else's head. It took me a while to realize. At first I thought it was a long and vivid dream. I was following a little boy around as he lived his life. I could see him wake up in the morning and go to eat his breakfast. I could see him being driven to school and playing football in the breaks. I was content to watch, and to wait for me to wake up. I had often experienced these long dreams before the addiction, and I kind of liked them actually. That I was experiencing them now had to mean that I was getting better.
But the dream did not stop. Day after day I could see the boy, whose name was Peter as I discovered quickly, live his life. Can dreams really last this long, I wondered again and again. After about a month I decided they couldn't. By now I really felt like I knew Peter. I was with him the whole time, observing, and was used to all his quirks. The way he would wash his hands before going to bed. How he loved to lie under the covers and read long after his mother had told him to go to bed. Which girls at school he followed with his gaze.
So one night I decided to speak up. Something was up with Peter. He was trying to pretend nothing was amiss, but I could feel he felt something was wrong. During dinner, he talked a lot less than he usually did, and his eyes seemed to zone out while watching TV. In the evening he lay awake not reading, but simply focusing on the ceiling.
"Is something amiss, Peter?", I asked cautiously. He twitched immediately. "I'm sorry Peter, I didn't mean to disturb you.", I continued. "Who are you?", he asked. The funny thing is, I didn't really remember who I had been before I had woken up in Peters head. I simply didn't know who I was. "What matters is that I am with you now", I answered. Suddenly the door was yanked open. Peters mother was standing there in her night gown, looking alarmed. "I heard you talking. Is someone in here with you?", she asked, frowning. "No, I don't think so... I was just...", Peter stammered. His mother started to smile. "Talking in you sleep? Ah, I see. Good night then, Peter."
"You're not real!", Peter whispered angrily. "I am just as real as you, Peter", I responded. "Well, I don't want to talk to you ever again!", Peter said, upset. "So be it", I responded and shut up. I started observing again, and did so for a long time. Some years passed. Peter was growing up quickly. Mostly I was content just watching his life unravel. Sometimes, however, I would tell him things he missed. Once, for example, Peter did not know the answer for an exam question. I whispered it quietly. He nodded and wrote the answer. Once I encouraged Peter to go talk to a beautiful girl. He would never have had the courage to do it normally, but I was there for him.
After a while, Peter started answering me, asking me for clarifications or just thanking me. It felt like we were closer than ever. But all good things must come to an end, and one day Peter slipped up. He was being berated by a teacher for being late again, and I comforted him. Peter responded, thanking me for the support. Suddenly the class room was deadly quiet. Everyone was looking at Peter. "Who were you talking to just there?", the teacher asked suspiciously. Peter shrugged. "No one." The teacher looked confused. "I will talk to you after class", she said.
During the whole class, I was just as nervous as Peter. He tapped his foot and failed to focus, I was talking about what this meant. Did they think my Peter was mentally ill? I could not bear the thought of him being put away. I wanted to protect Peter. So I convinced him to bolt after class. And he did. Just as we were walking out the door, however, the teacher turned around and locked his eyes on Peter. She began to follow him. "Run, Peter!", I shouted. Peter took the nearest staircase up, but the teacher was close behind. "Peter, they are going to put you away for ever!", I exclaimed. I could feel Peter panicking, his breathing was quicker and quicker. "You need to escape, Peter!", I pressed on. But he was to tired. We had reached the roof of the school, a place usually empty. I could hear the rapidly approaching footsteps of the teacher, and others. There were hundreds of them. "Don't do it, Peter!", they were shouting.
Peter, meanwhile, stumbled towards the edge of the roof. It dawned on me what he was going to do. "No, stop, Peter! This was not what I meant!". But Peter just sighed. "I do not want to be put away", he cried. He closed his eyes. All turned black. And he never opened them again.
EDIT: Fixed spelling mistakes. Also, please note Peter does not have Schizophrenia but an actual person stuck in his head. :) | ***Wake up Jimmy***
I said in a soft and whispery voice.
***Wake up Jimmy, it's just 6AM***
*NO, NO, NO, this is not happening, I'm not hearing another voice!!!*
***Oh, yes you are, I'm here, inside your mind. Did you think this moment would never happen? Did you think you are not insane?***
*But, but, but I'm not and I know this voice is not real, I'm dreaming.*
As Jimmy slaps his face trying to wake and opening his eyes, sitting on bed. He is wearing a white shirt with a white jeans, while he looks around he can see several other beds with people wearing the same clothing as he is.
*What is this place? Where am I?*
*Good morning Jimmy, woke up early today!* Said Doc. Brown with a smile on his face and a very calm and soft voice.
*How do you know my name? Where am I?*
*Jane, I think it's happening again. Call Doc. Stephen here*
*Ok Doc, I will also bring the guards in case we get out of control.* Whispered Jane at Doctor's Brown ear.
*So, Jimmy. Can I call you like...*
*Who are you? What am I doing in here?* Interrupted Jimmy with a scared look at his face, eyes wide opened wondering if that is a dream or not.
***THEY CAME HERE TO KILL YOU JIMMY!***
*NO, NO, NOOO!* Screamed Jimmy out loud. Doctor Brown steped back from Jimmy, while staring at him with both hands pressing against his head.
***They are coming to take us, to knock us down. Look at his hand, he is getting something out of his pocket, run, run as fast as you can.***
Doctor Brown was removing his pen from the pocket when suddenly Jimmy punched him in the face and made him fall on the floor.
***There is a door on the left, go for it then another on the right, run!***
Jimmy couldn't stop running and bumping into others, when the guards saw it they started to chase him and screaming that he should better stop or they would shoot him down with tranquilizers.
***This is happening Jimmy, now continue to run and open the next door at your right, It's nurse's Jane office, there you will find all you need to...***
Bam! Jimmy opened the door while breathing heavely and as he started to walk inside the room a very bright light started to shine from above, he could barely see anything.
***Wake up Jimmy***
***Wake up Jimmy, It's just 6AM***
*NO, NO, NO, this is not HAPPENING!!! NOT AGAIN!*
***Oh yeah, you are now trapped with me forever Jimmy!***
| 2015-03-23T06:37:44 | 2015-03-23T05:47:41 | 1,040 | 16 |
[WP] Humans are the first intelligent beings in the universe. It is our duty to guide those that come after us.
Inspired by this thread. https://www.reddit.com/r/space/comments/3pic58/most_earthlike_worlds_have_yet_to_be_born/ | We were the first.
Humanity had always wondered if we were alone in the universe, we had written about other races older than us, made movies and television shows about aliens and their advanced technology. We had *dreamed* that we could not be alone in this universe. But our dreams were crushed when we began to expand. Our dreams faded when we were the first to spread across the stars. When we began to realize that we were alone.
We were the first to build great ships that could take us across the sea of stars. We were the first to colonize distant planets and grow away from our home system. We were the first to create technology that rivaled our dreams. We were the first to exceed our expectations. Our society's view of alien life, that advanced, extraterrestrial civilization that conquered the galaxy? We were the first to become that civilization. And it hurt us, we dreamed of this civilization for millennia, and to find that we were alone was dreadful. But thousands carried on, they saw our potential as this great civilization. They saw what we could do for the galaxy, and eventually the universe. And so a new humanity was created. A humanity that began to create.
And when we finished spreading across our own galaxy, we turned to others. We were the first to travel to another galaxy and colonize it. The first to spread from one side of the universe to another. It was slow, deliberate, but as we grew, so did our minds. And as our minds grew, we expanded faster and faster, until the known universe was in our hands.
We were the first sentient beings in this universe. And we learned much spreading across the stars. We were the first to build great places of learning and knowledge, the first to cultivate planets so that they may have the potential for life. We were the first to see our cultivation turn to life and to know that we had done everything we could in this universe.
We were the first to accept our place as the creationists, the ones that would lead this universe to a greater form. Our dreams turned into reality with us at the helm, and our reality turned into life when we left our tools behind.
We were the first to recede into ourselves, to accept that we had done everything we could and to know that our gifts, our places of learning and knowledge, our ships and technological marvels would be left behind for others to find. We were the first to accept that as creators, we could not lead the next forms of life. We returned to our home, one galaxy at a time, we receded back to the Milky Way, until only a sliver of humanity was left.
This passage was left in every great place of learning, in every place that another form of life would find, that they would eventually worship. We left these gifts not to guide life, but to give them the same chances that we had. Every aspect of humanity is recorded into those places, into those temples and when life does find them, and find them they will, they will learn of their creators.
We were the first. To do everything that one could imagine and more. We were the first to leave our technology for others to find, the first to return home and realize that like Earth, we had an expiration. We were the first to live, expand, and then die on our home planet. We were the first.
We would not be the last.
____
*Great prompt, thanks for posting! If you enjoyed, you can check out more of my stories at /r/BlankPagesEmptyMugs!*
**Decided to write a [Continuation!](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/3q28kq/wp_humans_are_the_first_intelligent_beings_in_the/cwc3xfn)** | We explored in earnest, reaching into all corners of our solar system, our galaxy, and eventually the universe itself.
We explored alone.
Early religion stated that it was God who made us this way, a universe for His children, but those of us that remain wish to ignite the spark of intelligence in others. There's plenty of life out here in the great black void of space, clinging desperately to their small grey or brown rocks orbiting their small yellow stars, until they burn out or fade away.
As, too, we now do. We're fading. A dying race. Trillions turned to Billions, and now we're in the millions. Close to the thousands. Time is of the essence. We have learned a great deal about our universe, and little about those beyond it. There are still secrets to discover, places to explore.
We have decided on a program. A program to challenge those that are, and those that come after. On each viable planet, a simple risk/reward system that exponentially increases in difficulty along a structured path of what we hope will be intelligence-generating challenges, enticing those species with the will, rewarding them with the ability. They will one day understand, they will one day come after us, with their own questions, and their own answers. They will not find us, but they will come.
The universe will live. | 2015-10-24T13:15:18 | 2015-10-24T12:51:48 | 505 | 337 |
[WP] You're Barack Obama. 4 months into your retirement, you awake to find a letter with no return address on your bedside table. It reads "I hope you've had a chance to relax Barack...but pack your bags and call the number below. It's time to start the real job." Signed simply, "JFK." | Obama slowly lowers the letter as a drop of sweat starts to slide down his forehead, his heart pounding.
"Michelle." He says. "I have to step out for a minute. I'll be right back, you can go back to sleep." She mumbled something in return, but it wasn't coherent enough to understand.
Obama walks outside with his phone and the letter, and begins to dial the number. Before he types the last digit, he shuts his phone off and grabs his head with both hands in stress. This call could mean anything, after all. Obama paces back and forth while alternating rubbing his sweaty hands together and wiping the sweat off his forehead, as he smokes a cigarette he lit to help with stress. When the cigarette burns out he tosses it to the ground, steps on it to extinguish the flame, and tells himself simply "you can do this Barack. You were the president of the United States, for gods sake. TWICE." With that, he picked up the phone.
"Hello Barack." A voice said, before Obama had even said anything. "We've been expecting your call."
"Who is this?" Obama sternly asked.
"As the letter said, this is JFK. We have a job for you. Meet us on the corner of East and Third at 0300 hours Tuesday of next week. Come alone, and tell no one what you're doing. Tell no one about this call. Tell no one about the letter. We will know if you talk. Do not talk."
"B-but wait..." Obama stuttered. "Next Tuesday is my wife's birthday..."
"We are aware of that, Barack. Sacrifices have to be made in order to succeed." Replied the strange voice. Whoever it is was, they were definitely using a voice changer. Obama started to think, and he couldn't even tell if he had been talking to a man or a woman.
Days pass. Obama stressed uncontrollably over this, worried about what might happen, and worried more about how his wife would feel if he for any reason missed her birthday. He had no choice, though. He had to go to that meeting, to discover what this was all about.
The time has come.
Obama slowly walks to the stop sign on the corner of East and Third, at 0300 hours, on the correct day. Everything was as he was told. He received another call.
"Barack." The voice said. "Do not move. Do not make a sound. Do not even lower the phone from your face." Before Obama could ask why, he noticed multiple bright dots shimmering on his body. Snipers, no doubt. Obama didn't dare move. For two whole hours he was forced to sit like this.
At the dawn of the third hour, the lasers disappeared. A black unmarked car drove up to where he was sitting. He heard a voice that told him to approach the vehicle, but to not get in.
Obama walked up to the window, and stuff waiting for what might happen next.
The window rolled down.
"HAHAHAHAHA!" laughed Biden. "You should have seen all the faces you made! Oh and how stressed you looked! You seemed like you were gonna have a heart attack! HAHAHAHAHA!"
"Joe?" Replied Obama, angrily. "I don't understand. Explain, now."
"Easy, easy." Said Biden. "It was just a prank bro! Just a little joke! You know. Leave a mystery letter, give out mysterious instructions, have you sit in an uncomfortable posture for THREE HOURS. IT WAS HILARIOUS!"
"I don't understand." Obama looked puzzled. "What about all the threats? Why drag me out here at this time and day, and on my wife's birthday no less?"
Biden continued to explain, still laughing. "Because it's FUNNY! You were so freaked out! I'm sure you're more afraid to go home now than before, because your wife will be waking up any moment now to an empty bed, which is the BEST PART! AHAHAHAHA!"
Obama wanted to hit Biden. "But what about JFK? Why the blocked caller IDs? Why would you do this?"
Biden continued to laugh. "JFK? JFK?! That was your only hint you bozo - Just F$:king Kidding! Because it was a joke! What, did you think this had something to do with the old president? It's dead, Jim. I mean Barack."
Obama was so outraged at this point. He could no longer think of anything to say, so he didn't. He turned around and walked away, fearing how his wife might act when she learns the truth. He hadn't spoken of it, but she had noticed him acting awfully weird the last week.
"Biden." Obama thought to himself. "I will have my revenge."
To be continued in Pranking Obama 2: Electric Boogaloo | I've wanted to get into writing for a while now, my first attempt a writing since school!
Contemplating how much easier his life had been since Donald Trump took over, Barack rolled over to kiss Michelle as he does like clockwork every morning. Something caught his eye this morning. On the bedside table he saw a note. In the corner was a small symbol.
"I've seen that before" He thought. "But where?"
It slowly came into focus until he realised, it's the presidential seal! What could Trump want from him that required such an official means of communication. He reached over, grabbed the note and unfolded it. Briefly skimming through a signature caught his eye. It was identical to JFK's.
The note read "I hope you've had a chance to relax Barack...but pack your bags and call the number below. It's time to start the real job."
It must have been Michelle playing another joke on him. Ever since his retirement the two found themselves with so much free time that they had resorted to playing silly pranks on each other. The jokes had started to become more an more elaborate recently. Just last week Barack had got the whole family in on a joke that he in fact was never the President. After a quick google search Michelle quickly debunked this, however.
"I'll play along he thought"
Barack proceeded to dial the number written on the bottom. It seemed to ring longer than normal.
"Not committed at all" He thought. "Oh we-"
"-Hello?... *Hello!?* Barack, is that you?" whispered a worried voice.
"Yes, speaking.
.
.
.
Hang on, Joe, is that you? She's got you in on this too!?"
"Dammit Barack, the accent wasn't enough to throw you off?"
"We spent enough time together, do you think you could fool me so easily? Ha! Nice try, say hi to Jill for me and I'll see you tonight, yeah?"
"Sure thing, see you later."
As Barack hung up the smile on his face grew wider, already plotting his next prank. He realised the room had grown eerily silent, however. He could no longer hear Michelle's truffle pig impression. In fact, she was no longer in the room.
A shadow caught his eye in the doorway. A male silhouette with slightly coiffed hair and behind a female, slightly frail looking silhouette with shortish hair. | 2017-05-14T11:15:12 | 2017-05-14T10:10:47 | 30 | 10 |
[WP] Someone DOES discover the meaning of life, but it is more terrifying then we could imagine. | I walked in through the front door. Act natural. Nothing's wrong.
"Honey, you're home early?"
The words bounced off me like foam darts. I could tell I already fell short of acting natural, but I stared at my wife lost for words. She'd never looked so beautiful. Soft blonde hair for miles, eyes you could get lost in. I'd wasted so much time. I'd spent too long away from her.
"Oh, uh, we made a really big find today love. We got let off early in celebration."
My wife jumped for joy, "You have to tell me all about it!"
"Yeah," I muttered, "I'll tell you all about it over lunch."
I moved in, and just held her. I held her close and took in her smell, her warmth, everything that I could. I tried to live in that moment forever, but, time was not so generous.
"Honey, is everything okay?"
I let go of her, almost embarrassed, "Oh, yeah, everything's fine. Sorry, I just feel like I don't see you enough."
She gave me a smile. A perfect smile. On any other day it would instantly have turned my mood around. On any other day.
I helped her with lunch. Stood within inches of her. Hugged her from behind as she sliced vegetables. Hugged her while the bread toasted. I made the most of it. I tried.
Finally, we sit at the table. It was an incredible spread. When it comes to lunch we usually eat some sandwiches over the counter, but today I insisted. Salad, chicken, garlic bread, anything you could think of. It would already have been an extravagant dinner, but today it made for an unparalleled lunchtime feast.
"So what's the big news?"
I stared into my plate, contemplating the crumbs, until I could spit up the words.
"The dishes picked something up over the night. We... managed to figure it out this morning"
My wife's eyes turned to saucers, "Wh-... what!? Really!?"
She was smiling ear to ear by this point. I couldn't return the gesture.
"Why aren't you more excited?"
Again, the words were a labor to put together, "I guess I need to start from the beginning."
She leaned in intently, already sucked into the words I hadn't even said yet.
"When the universe began... there was only hydrogen and helium, the two most basic atoms... and... eventually they started combining together. Fusion. When enough of them get together it creates fusion. That's what made the more complex elements. The elements that make life."
I could see she wasn't sure what this had to do with the radio dishes, but I couldn't hesitate too long, "And what's really amazing is that life takes those elements, and creates even more complex chemistry. Things that even fusion can't make. We take these basic elements and turn it them something even more intricate... something more special. Life is a factory for the rarest substances in the universe."
My wife was beaming, "That's... really beautiful actually!"
I swallowed hard, and gripped her hand tight one last time.
"It won't seem as beautiful when they finally come back to collect it."
My wife's expression turned to something more quizzical. I couldn't be sure if it was what I said, or because the room started to dim as they finally arrived and blotted out the sky.
We were nothing more than a factory. | The last thing he remembered was the fire tearing through the hospital. And the screams. But that didn't seem possible. Here he was in the darkness conscious and pain free, but with no point of reference.
"It's happened again" he heard through the darkness before he was blinded by a searing light. He tried to speak, but could not feel anything, as if he did not possess a mouth. "They are awakening with greater frequency than before, what's causing this?" the same voice asked. "We see this increase every once in a while, just put him back in the cycle. This one's conclusion puts our production efficiency up for the day. A few more like it and we will have met our quotient."
He tried to struggle, but movement was not in his power, all he could do was listen while the light burned his consciousness. "Should I put him back into the sixth sector?" the first voice questioned.
"No, the sixth is too risky. The trauma this soul has experienced has weakened it. If it is subjected to much more it will extinguish itself and be useless. Put him in the first." | 2014-06-13T08:25:59 | 2014-06-13T08:23:55 | 105 | 11 |
[WP] Among Alien species humans are famous for prefering pacifism but being the most dangerous species when they are forced to fight.
EDIT:WOW THIS EXPLODED GUYS MY FIRST MAJOR PROMPT. | The young Blastonian sat in front of his father and watched as he pulled his life support closer to him. "When I'm done I want to die, do you understand?" The young Blastonian nodded his heads. "I understand."
"It was five hundred years ago, we began receiving transmissions. At first they were beautiful, music strange and unlike any instrument we had made. Then alien voices filled their transmissions, calm and confident. We broke their languages and realized that it was announcements of what was going on in their planet, news was what they called it." The younger Blastonian scooted closer its rough skin peeling as it did so. It was beginning to enter its mid-life cycle when it would gain a gender. Its father coughed loudly before spitting up blood.
"As time went on the news changed, the details of their planet were brutish. Some of their tribes called for the extermination of others. They began a war larger than any we had ever seen in our species entire history. We knew they had to be stopped. We were only a few hundred light years away from their home planet, if they escaped who knew what kind of devastation they would send on someone so different from them as us. They even had a word for such destruction, genocide, we couldn't translate it at first, we didn't even understand it. With a heavy heart our leaders decided that the Human menace needed to be put down before it became a threat. Construction began on a bomb."
The entire bomb was nearly 500 quilos long, the final stages of the engine being constructed in space. It was perhaps the greatest construction project the Blastonians had ever undertaken. A hundred years were spent building the bomb and the leaders praised their insight. In those years the Humans had left Earth and reached their moon, even sending out signals claiming to be peaceful. The leaders knew better. When the bomb was completed the Blastonians wept, they knew they were about to do something horrible but they had no choice it was them or the Humans.
"We launched the bomb, it sped off starting at 1% the speed of light but ever increasing, our engineers said it should reach the Human planet at nearly 90%, it was the fastest we had ever designed. We continued to listen. Their wars continued their peaces were short, but after a number of nuclear explosions the Humans changed. They made peace, a 'Brotherhood of Man' they called it. But still our bomb carried on. They began to leave their planet, changing the face of their surrounding solar system. Crude mines and then beautiful paradises. They left behind their organic bodies, short lived and weak as they were uploading their consciousness into machines of grace and strength. And still our bomb carried on."
"Our leaders approached the engineers and asked them if we could stop the bomb. But there was nothing we could do, we had built the bomb so single mindedly that its only communications was its navigation computer. We could only watch in horror as our bomb headed toward the Human planet. The engineers who built the bomb committed suicide in droves, my friends, your uncle, there was no escape from the shame we felt. We looked on in horror as the bomb continued toward the Human planet."
In the final days when Earth saw the object speeding toward them there was panic, billions scrambled to upload their minds onto data banks and millions more escaped onto ships. The bomb hit. The Blastonians watched as the light from the explosion cleared they could see that Earth had been destroyed most of the inner solar system as well.
"The entire system had gone dark, their sun dispersed from the shockwave. We scanned for any sign of life, a flicker in the coldness of space. We spotted one, two, ten, a hundred, then countless ships transporting themselves back into the solar system. Then came the message, 'We know where you are, we are coming.'" | Starlog:210x August 24th
Our plans ,to invade Earth, thwarted by Humans again!No matter how hard we try, there always seems to be a collection of heroes sticking their ugly heads into our business.Last weeks invasion made us extraterrestrials look as weak as a bag of sticks!Outrageous!
....What went? wrong?Everything was going accorded to plan.These heroes, curse them!We had trapped all of them into their command building,but every ounce of firepower and our assortment of mortar shells could not incinerate these puny humans into ash.The biggest insult of all was when one of them blasted into our mothership and instantly killed 5 of our strongest warriors...i could not believe it.This man,who was had no visible hair and looked like the typical fool who would get their lunch money stolen by a pack of monkeys...had single-handedly punched our Generals into blood and ash.I knew that if i stayed and fought,i would not stand a chance....
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Captain Vargus stood on the central platform of the **Ravager**.Facing behind him was the escape pod,which still had 5 seconds until launch.
'Such a formidable opponent.Tell me,human...who are you?'
The human scratched his head without interest.
'I'm Saitama.I'm just a hero for fun.' | 2016-03-14T01:51:42 | 2016-03-13T19:47:12 | 23 | 10 |
[WP] You are due to be executed for your involvement in the rebellion, but the queen herself approched you in your cell to ask you a question; why are people rebelling against her rule? | *Trigger warning for implied suicide.*
"You're kidding, right?"
I gave *Her Majesty* the driest possible look I could muster. She blinked at me slowly, visibly confused by my tone.
"No. I'm not kidding." She leaned forward in her seat. If she were any closer, I might have been able to punch her or something. "I really want to know. Why are the people rebelling against me?"
I really couldn't believe this. Even after revealing that I had never been loyal to her, that all my years of advising and friendship was a facade....she was still coming to me for advise.
"I mean, it has to be for a reason, right?" She asked. "Otherwise, you would have never betrayed me-"
"I was never on your side!" I hissed.
She waved her hand around, as though saying, 'Yeah yeah yeah'.
"So, why is it, Elizabeth? Why do the people rebel?"
I snorted. She wanted a reason? Fine! I'll give her some damn reasons!
"Oh, where do I even start?" I asked sarcastically. "Oh! There's the constant warfare for one thing! You forcing us to go to war for the most foolish of reasons-"
"Those countries' leaders insulted me," she interrupted me, because of course she did. "Is a little bit of bloodshed not worth the honor of defending your Queen?"
I stared. "You started a war with Camberton just because a servant accidentally spilled some punch on your shoes."
"My *favorite* shoes." She replied hottily.
"Oh my god!" I clutched the bridge of my nose. Why was I even bothering right now? "Do you even know what war does to your people?"
"It brings honor and glory-"
"It brings *death*!" I snarled. "Hundreds of innocent lives! Sons, brothers, fathers, husbands, all leaving behind daughters who will never know their fathers, widows without means to feed their children, siblings without-"
My voice cracked. I bowed my head, suddenly feeling exhausted. I suppose if there was one thing I could look forward to, it was reuniting with my dear brother. I knew that it wasn't what he would have wanted from me-how many times has he told me that he wanted me to live a long and happy life? But how was I to live long and happy when the only family I ever had is gone? All for nothing. All for *her*.
The queen tapped her foot impatiently. "Is that it?"
She sounded bored. The urge to punch turned into the urge to choke her. I allowed myself a moment to entertain the thought before continuing.
"Yes. There's much more." I slid my gaze back to her. "But a spoiled little rich girl would never understand the struggles of those that she views as little more then toys for her to play with!"
The queen tutted. She stood. "I am the queen. I have been hand selected to rule this land by the Almighty himself! The choices I make for the land are choices that have been selected through the Lord's good graces!"
"Then may both you and your Lord rot." I replied.
She slapped me. Then she wiped her hand against her dress.
"You were a good friend, Liz." She said. It made me grint my teeth to hear that name slide out of her greasy lips! "Too bad you have betrayed me. I had never wanted this for you."
I smiled drily. "Even before I had met you, I had wished so much worse for you. Now that I know you, not even the worst of the world will ever be enough for the crimes you have committed on this land!"
She rolled her eyes. She began to make her way to the door.
"Good-bye Elizabeth," She said. She made her way towards the exit. I spat on the satin cushioned seat that sat before my cell and I saw her glance back at me, making a face.
"Make sure to burn that." She said to the head of the guards.
"It shall be done, your Highness!" He said.
I waited until the foot steps had disappeared before turning to the bed of my cell. I stripped the sheets and began to tear them.
'I shall see you soon, Archibald.' | I can't write full out that well, but here's where my mind went in a word vomit:
The Queen confronts you quietly before the execution, asking with large doe-eyes what shortcomings she has as a ruler. It's clear she has no idea how the other higher-ups treat the civilians. How they pretend the world is their own and let greed overtake them. The Queen has been essentially gaslit by her entire council and cabinet and isolated from the world due to rumors of a plague in the village. Nobody has seen her since and so she sits in her chambers and sends out letters and correspondences with other rulers across the globe to remedy the famine and sickness that rose into her kingdom. She feels like she's doing everything right, fixing issues, approving bills, but the people who work with her take advantage of these new rules. They steal and pillage and go into the civilians' homes and take what they want. The people aren't safe anymore and their little town that once was a safe haven is now a slaughterhouse while the nobles claim the virus has taken out too many people.
Anyway, the Queen listens and helps you escape before your time of death, begging you to show her what is happening. That she needs to see it for herself. She was told it was a plague but the plague isn't one of disease and illness, it's of insatiable gluttony from the people she trusted as her own. The ones she believed were keeping her safe and doing her bidding. Turns out they did the opposite. They kept her out of their way and did their own bidding, no morality weighing them down.
Anyway, you and the Queen run away together, and you show her the town and how things really were. You two devise a plan to take down the people that betrayed her and fix the kingdom once and for all.
I didn't get much sleep so I'm not sure if this makes sense lol oops | 2022-05-18T07:23:51 | 2022-05-18T03:19:37 | 196 | 19 |
[WP] You're a mimic. You were disguised as a chair in a dungeon when an adventurer decided to take you as loot. You've actually enjoyed your life ever since as furniture in a jolly tavern. So when some ruffians try to rob the now-elderly adventurer's business, you finally reveal yourself. | It started off like any other night: a group if bards was performing a heroic tale, a slew of maidens served mead and meats, adventurers, townsfolk, and merchants all drank and laughed together as strangers.
I had been a piano chair in this tavern for almost 20 years, I got to hear the best musicians this town has ever had. I had the best view in the house from atop the stage. This would be my final night in the spotlight.
A pair of wanderers walked in and sat in a corner. They didn't drink or eat, they only watched. For hours they waited, until the local sherif walked through the doors at the end of his shift. Alheim, was his name, a human in a mixed bag of a town. Alheim was loved by all, he was fair and just in his work while kind and funny in his leisure.
"Al!" Shouts some regulars already drunk and silly. "Come over here and tell my new friend that story about the orc stuck in the windmill!"
Al waved, "A most hilarious story, that one. Let me grab a pint and I'll be right over." Al looks to his favorite maiden, "Jessie, bring me whatever's on special!"
What happened next, I feel responsible for; I took my eyes off of those two newcomers for only 30 seconds. But that's all it took.
A scream, a thud, then chaos. One of the newcomers weaseled his way behind Al and stabbed him in the heart from behind. A pained shout would be his final words, no chance for goodbyes for my dear friend.
As he fell to the floor everyone scattered with fear. The barkeep leaped over the counter only to be met with 3 arrows to the chest from the other mysterious guest. Jessie dove down to Al's side to see if he lived, but she laid her head down and wept when she found no pulse.
Out of anger, or maybe sadness, I stood up; knocking the pianist from my seat. I morphed into my true form. A gnarled heap of vines and charged at the outsiders. They never saw me coming, I dove on the archer, took him to the ground and impaled him with broken off leg of a chair nearby. He twitched for a few seconds before going limp, life taken from him the same way Al's was. The rogue attempted to peel me off his friend, but was too weak. I spun to face him, his eyes cold and blue as ice. He plunged his knife into my gut where my vines then took hold of it and him. I grabbed him by the neck and lifted him to the ceiling rafters. Then I slammed him to the ground knocking him out.
By now the tavern had fallen to silence, I heard people whispering; "monster" "demon" "killer", then one voice came through "savior!" A man shouted from behind a table. "What is your name? Where did you come from?"
I had no time to answer, I bolted to Al to see if he still lived. He was so still, more still than I'd ever imagined someone could be. "I think he's gone Jessie, I think he's gone..." | Tavern keeper: "Mr. Handy. After all these years you were a mimic in disguise?"
Mimic being translated by a mage: "I am, you took me from a dungeon decades ago. I have stayed here ever since"
Tarvern Keeper: "Why did you change just now?"
Mimic: "I had to, we were in danger"
Tavern Keeper: "We?"
Mimic: "Yes, we. The ones who live in this place, the ones who founded it after all those travels"
Tavern Keeper: "You were watching for us all this time?"
Mimic: "Always. Are you gonna kill me?"
Tavern Keeper with tears down his old cheeks: "No old friend, you were always a part of the team even in the direst moments. Now come, i may have something prepared here that your kind can eat"
Mimic: "Just like the old times..."
End of story | 2021-09-22T08:03:21 | 2021-09-22T07:10:53 | 28 | 19 |
[WP] You won a lifetime supply of Oreos when you were a kid. The apocoylpse and collapse of civilization was 30 years ago, yet every month the Oreos are still delivered to you, no matter where you are. | The key to a successful business is happy customers. It's simple really: make a good product and don't piss off your customers and they'll do the advertising for you. The best product in the world will fail if it has a bad image.
That's where my job comes in. Nabisco hired me to make sure Oreos stayed the family-friendly cookie that they've been for the past few decades. It started pretty normally, but I wanted to make absolutely sure that nothing spoiled our good name.
It started with maintaining our social media accounts. Simple advertising evolved into resolving bad customer experiences. Resolving bad experiences evolved into preventing them from happening in the first place. I looked into every employee's background and then some. Multiple employees were let go before the police received anonymous, credible reports of hard evidence detailing a wide variety of crimes. I made damn sure that "Oreo" and "Pedophile" were never in the same headline.
Then we ran the promotion. Some contest where the winner would receive a package of Oreos every month for the rest of their life. Super easy to enter, and all recipient names were hidden. That way "Hitler" wouldn't be receiving our endorsement anytime soon. Quick media buzz for a month or so, then a lifetime of word-of-mouth for one "lucky" individual. Also thrown into the deal was the ability to request any flavor you want, and even try our new flavors before the public does. What the general public doesn't know is that I get to decide who wins, and I'll make it whoever will give us the most long-term advertising use.
I picked a young politician. He was full of hope, optimism, and most importantly charisma. His background was squeaky clean and he didn't seem likely to be corrupted by power or money. But I could use him.
Then 2020 hit and even I couldn't have predicted the massive Civil War that broke out. I don't know all the details, but the result was Nuclear warheads detonating within our border. Foreign powers were blamed and soon the entire world crumbled into chaos; minus one company that is.
I made damn sure that I did my job. Our social media offered advice on how to stay safe in the post-apocalyptic world. Our factories were now shelters for the common folk. Our suppliers were unscathed by the war and now 100% dedicated to Nabisco. Most importantly, our products were still being consumed by the masses.
But what of the young politician? He continued to receive his package of cookies and creme every month on the dot. Tracking him was difficult, but it was all worth it in the end. He credited Oreo for giving him hope in this wasteland of our country. He made horrible cookie puns in his speech to rebuild America. He hired our staff to run his campaign in the settlements across America's ruins. He even handed out Oreos to cancer-ridden children on the verge of death. He was the first president to be unanimously elected to office.
But most importantly of all, my boss gave me a 5% pay raise with a free package of Oreos. | When I was just a little lad
I won a raffle, told my dad
Oreos were what I’d won
Now I’ll never want for fun
All day long I’d sit and eat
Till one day I saw an empty street
The barren road joined barren towns
Most of London had burned down
No one here or in between
No Big Ben or royal queen
Lost me dad, lost me mum
But not my cookie sandwich fun
They found me daily, like magic
In any place, was quite the trick
I have no reason for this fodder
I’m just Lonely Harry Potter. | 2019-01-04T11:15:51 | 2019-01-04T10:12:56 | 265 | 14 |
[WP] A little girl is terrified of the monster under her bed, but what she doesn't know is that the monster under her bed protects her from the true monsters - her parents. You are that monster.
Thanks for the huge amount of responses! Loving most all of them, thank you! Sorry it was a bit simplistic though. | This life. Nobody likes me. I sit here hiding--every...damn...day. I just want a friend, and when I come out to play at night, she screams. Her parents come into the room and here I am, once again, hiding. It would be great if I could enjoy the daylight, but my skin and eyes are extremely-sensitive to the artificial lights. It sucks. What sucks even worse? Her parents never take time to spend with her, and she has no idea.
I want to cry, because although my parents left me at an early age, I at least had the love and affection from my grandparents. Caylee doesn't. Day after day, she's locked in our room; well, I say "our", but I'm sure you know what I mean. One would think a 3-year old would be running around, smiling, playing with toys. No, not Caylee. She sits off to the side of the room, against her favorite wall...coloring. Eyes with dark circles, pale complexion. Her parents bring her food and drinks, but don't really interact with her at all. She begs them to play with her, but they are way too busy and give her false promises.
"We'll play tomorrow, sweetie", she hears.
It never happens. Her smile, once bright--has now faded.
All those colorful drawings of her family..they've...they've gone gray. As much as I want to hold her, the only closeness I can share with her is looking at her artwork under the bed while she sleeps. Maybe one day when she's older, she'll understand that I'm not the bad guy. Anyway, as I was saying. It's been about 8 months since I saw her first picture. She's definitely improved as a little artist, but damn... these colors are killing me. There's obviously something wrong. What went from her, mom, dad, brother, has now become just her...and me. I'm pretty sure she wants to be my friend, but I look nothing like her--and that scares her. I don't even dare to attempt playing with her at night anymore.
It's been a couple of days now, and I haven't heard anything from her. No creaks from the bed, no pitter-patter from her feet hitting the ground running, and no sign of her coloring off in the corner. I guess they left while I was sleeping. Maybe they are on vacation? I don't know. That can't be it, because the odd thing is that I still heard her parents.
I was lonely before, but man...now I'm really getting lonely.
Part 2
It's been 3 days now, and although I hear her parents on the other side of the door, I don't think they've come in here for a few days, unless I was sleeping. The door still appears to be locked--odd. Then I heard something... a wimper. This wimper sounded painful. Risking it all, I slipped out from underneath the bed, skin starting to burn. I can't help but wonder where my Caylee is? I searched the room frantically, throwing pillows, blankets, toys everywhere. I knew something was wrong--my gut told me so. I hear crying the closer I get to her bookshelf. Then things got quiet--did she hear me?
Then it happened.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
"Mommy? Daddy?"
My heart sank.
"I love you Mommy. Mommy I'm hungry."
What the... It came from the bookshelf?! I quickly pressed my hands and head against the wall to peek behind it, and there it was...a silver doorknob, twisting quietly. The twisting stops and then I see her little fingers reaching out from underneath the door...reaching for a small pile of crayons just out of reach. I push them towards her and she pulls them in. | I've heard their thoughts. I'm a bit gruff and look rough around the edges, but it keeps the monsters at bay.
The young lady I've been watching out for these last couple years has already had a few close calls. Her daddy has been coming home drunk some nights. When he's sober he's the greatest guy you'd ever know, but watch out for when he's drunk. When he's drunk he's weak, his mind isn't the same. He has his rough days, sometimes his boss really gets to him, he feels like he needs a drink to get work off his mind.
Her mommy loves and supports him, she doesn't see what's going on, she is oblivious to his thoughts. If she only understood that he needs her most some of those thoughts wouldn't even be there at all.
When she's sleeping, she's so tender and most vulnerable. When he's sober, he loves her like a daddy should, when he's drunk these impish thoughts come into his mind and drive his unbridled impulses. The only thing keeping him out is me. I see him come near, I have to show myself.
She's seen me before too, It was purely accidental, but it wasn't the first time. I've been seen by the young ones. I admit I have given them quite a scare. I wish I could save them all, but I can only do so much. | 2014-05-14T14:24:08 | 2014-05-14T13:59:01 | 18 | 10 |
[WP] Your powers came out of nowhere, and destroyed your life. People were terrified of you, and you hated yourself. The superhero promised no one would hurt you, but special forces start to point their guns at you. | Not long ago, my father rented a movie for the family to watch called Backdraft. I was fifteen and my brother was thirteen, so at first glance it just sounded like a boring old movie from thirty years ago. Especially after my father had us watch another one that I can’t even remember the name of, but almost put me to sleep. But my mother agreed that it was a great movie, so we watched it, and it totally was. Exciting, great special effects, definitely worth watching.
This was nothing like that.
My bedroom was consumed in flames and as I sat there, drenched in sweat somehow despite the heat and heart-pounding terror rushing through me, I learned something they’d gotten wrong. This kind of fire was *loud*. Maybe that was just a Hollywood thing, obviously they wouldn’t have had a great movie if no one could hear the dialogue, but still, the part of my brain that was still functioning on a rational level felt irritated.
It was only a few seconds after I’d woken up and sat bolt upright in bed before I ran to my window, flinging it open, but of course that did the opposite of what was needed here. But even that didn’t damage me. Somehow it had taken me until that point that not only were the flames covering my bedsheets, crawling up my curtains, attacking my wood furniture, but *I* was on fire.
But at the same time, I realized that it didn’t hurt, and I could still breathe just fine, and I would’ve thought that would calm me down, but instead it made me tremble with fear. Because I knew what was happening, and as much as I was still hoping, begging, pleading to wake from a nightmare, I wasn’t asleep. I was destroying my home. And I had no idea how to stop.
My bedroom door flew open and my father stood there for a split second before quickly retreating from the onslaught of heat. “Zelda!” he shouted.
“Dad?” I cried.
My mother clutched my brother’s arm tightly and they stared in horror. But there was nothing they could do and, in a horrible chill that countered everything else I was seeing and feeling, I knew that to be the case. Whatever power this was that had horrifically overtaken me in the night, there was no controlling it. “Run!” I screamed. “Get out of here!”
They were all hesitant, but obviously they weren’t leaving behind someone to be burned alive, considering I was alight myself, so they forced themselves down the hallway and, I hoped, out and far away from this house. I stared after them, the screech of smoke detectors scattered around our home the only other sounds I could hear.
Despite it all, the burn I felt deepest was behind my nose of the threat of tears before I suddenly started sobbing. I felt nothing on my cheeks, my tears evaporating before they’d even fully formed, but my body went through the motions regardless. The flames crackled around me viciously, attacking everything I owned, from my computer that held my favorite games to my closet, the flames licking up my clothes, to the posters on my wall, the first to go, now nothing but ash.
My home. I was destroying *my home*.
With slow, deep breaths that should have been impossible against the thick smoke but somehow feeling as clear as fresh air, I tried to calm myself down. Panic was doing me no good, I was out of control, and I needed to push myself out of my head and get a handle on this. Incrementally, the fire started to recede from my hands, then up my body, inch by inch, until I was finally standing there without a flicker of a flame on me.
In my pajamas. I was still *in my pajamas*. I cursed this ability to the deepest depths of Hell. It was leaving me clothed, but destroying my *home*?
The sirens of fire trucks sounded nearby, but the fire had already started to edge out into the hallway. I tried to focus, motioning with my hands as if the fire were just an object to be manipulated, pushing at it to die down, but nothing happened. I stood there desperately trying to shove it down, tried visualizing it disappearing, tried mentally isolating it from the oxygen that drove it, but to no avail. And by the time a few minutes had passed, my anger and helplessness had returned and I found myself ablaze once more.
When a torrential thrust of water came through my window, I ducked out of my bedroom, stumbling down the stairs, crying invisible tears once again as my footsteps left a trail of fire behind me. Managing to get out the front door, I collapsed to my knees on the concrete path that led from our porch to the sidewalk. The stares from onlookers were horrified and I curled into myself in overwhelming shame, mortified and helpless and exhausted.
Then the trucks arrived. I knew the symbol on the side, the letters SG standing for the Superhero Guild, and I saw the soldiers leap out of them, taking their places around the front of my lawn, armed with automatic weapons. On my knees and with barely any energy left inside me, I just sat there, waiting for them to kill me. Waiting for them to end this.
“No!” my mother screamed, held back by my father, flailing to try to reach the soldiers. “Don’t hurt her! Don’t hurt my baby, she didn’t mean it!”
“Get her out of here, Dad!” I shouted, glaring at him with everything I had. But he could barely keep hold of her, much less pull her away from the scene. My younger brother stared, crying the tears I couldn’t, his arms wrapped around himself as if he were cold, though I knew everyone felt the heat of the fire relentlessly spreading behind me.
“Zelda!” came a shout.
I turned to my right and saw a young woman rushing up to me. “Stay back!” I shrieked, stumbling to my feet and taking a few steps backwards. After a few more seconds, I recognized her as the Ice Queen.
“Stand down,” the woman shouted angrily at the armed men and women around us. They reluctantly lowered their weapons as she came closer to me. “You’re safe now,” she told me. “They’re not going to hurt you. You’re okay.”
“What are you talking about?” I cried, shaking my head furiously. “Look at what I did!”
Looking behind me to the home that was consumed in flames, the fire spreading too quickly for the firefighters to keep it under control, I stared in horror before looking back to her, my gaze demanding an explanation of what she thought was okay about any of this.
Matching my steps backwards, she walked forward toward me. “Can you calm down? Can you dowse the flames from yourself?”
My chest shuddering in sobs, I closed my eyes and tried to mimic the actions I’d taken back in my bedroom. Once again, I managed to smother the flames across my skin and clothes, leaving me standing there with my skin coated in ash. I reopened my eyes to a gentle smile on the Ice Queen’s face.
“It doesn’t matter,” I choked out. “I ruined everything. I destroyed *everything*.”
“Your family right there would beg to differ,” she told me, pointing toward them. I looked to them, desperation on each of their faces, before looking back to the hero in front of me. “Can I give you a hug?”
My lower lip trembled. Her powers were ice and water based, sure, but a hug from me *now*? Was she crazy?
After a long moment, I slowly nodded. She came forward and gently embraced me, and I started to sob into her shoulder, tears finally released, sliding watery paths through the soot on my face. The despair took over and my knees gave out and the hero kept me tight in her arms as we fell to the ground together.
“I know you’re terrified,” she spoke in my ear. “And I know you’re heartbroken at what you’ve lost. But you are still here. You are still in control enough to cool yourself off, and that means you’ll easily learn how to control it further.” She pulled back, holding me by my shoulders and looking straight into my eyes. “I haven’t been where you are, but I know what you’re feeling. So, realize that the house burning behind you is just an object. Your family is safe. That’s what matters. Right?”
My breaths still coming quickly, shuddering from the sobs that had died off, I forced myself to ignore the blanket of heat behind me and looked over to my family. They looked worried beyond belief, but when I looked at them, my father saw me looking over and somehow managed a smile. Among everything he’d just seen…his decision right now was to give me a comforting smile.
I stared at him in disbelief before looking back to the Ice Queen. And I nodded. “Right.”
​
/r/storiesbykaren | It all started when I woke up and my hands were on fire. My life had been normal. I went to school every day, got good grades, and had a couple good friends. One night, I had an incredibly strange dream. I don't usually remember my dreams, but I remember that horrible dream so vividly to this day.
When I woke up from the dream, I felt a peculiar sensation tickling my fingers and a curious warmth spreading down my body. I quickly sat up, only to see that my bed was on fire. I quickly got out of bed, but then I realized that my body was on fire. My clothes had burned away from my body and my whole body was emanating red hot flames that I could barely feel. The only way I could stop the flames was by staying in the bath for several hours. By that time, the fire department had come to put out the fire in my bedroom.
They took me into the police station and told me there was someone I should talk to. I was so frightened and tried to stay calm, but I was just so worried I would burst into flame. Then I did. While I was waiting for the person to arrive, I burst into flame once again. Luckily, there was only one other person in the room, and they quickly threw a bucket of water onto me as I burst into tears. I was so ashamed. Why did this have to happen to me? What did I do to deserve this?
Finally, the person arrived. They were so kind and explained that they have similar powers to mine. They could control water. They offered to help train me to control my powers and assured me that everyone was only here to help me. I agreed to learn how to control my powers, but I didn't want to leave my old life behind. I was told not to tell anybody from school what had happened and to go to school as normal on Monday.
For the whole weekend, I worked on controlling my powers, although I made little progress. In the end, I was told to leave school if I felt out of control. I was so nervous to go to school. What if I burned my friends? What if I started a fire? Someone could die. I didn't have much choice in the matter, so I went to school.
Everything was going fine until lunch time. One of my friends had told us a very funny joke, and we were all laughing until my hands suddenly caught fire. All the other times I burst into flame I was panicking, but I this time I was happy. My happiness quickly turned into fear as the papers I was holding burst into flame. The fire alarms went off and everyone left the building as I tried to stop the rest of my body from catching on fire.
By the time I was under control and went outside to join my class everyone knew what had happened. I walked outside to whispers and people looking away from me. They all seemed so scared. I walked over to my friends, but they told me to get away from them. That I was a freak. That they never wanted to see my face again. I ran all the way home with tears streaming down my face and then I climbed back into the bathtub so I couldn't burn my house down.
I thought I would be able to go to school as normal, but apparently not. I can't believe my life has changed so entirely in only the span of a few days. Even my family won't sit next to me anymore, and for a good reason. I am a monster.
In the evening, the person I met at the police station with water powers arrives at my house. They tell me I should take a few weeks off of school to work on controlling my powers some more. I don't want to be able to control my powers, I want them to just go away!
We tell the people at school that I am sick, but I am sure that everyone knows the real reason I am not there. Eventually, I am able to control the fire enough that I am ready to go to school again. My brothers don't move away from me at the dinner table, and my mom even agrees to braid my hair before my first day back at school.
School is miserable now. Nobody wants to sit with me at lunch, so I don't even bother eating lunch anymore and I just work on homework in the library. There are buckets of water everywhere I go, and every student refuses to work with me on group projects. Several students have switched out of my classes, and some even switched schools. At least I can go to school and have some normalcy in my life.
After a few months of school, it has started to get a little better. I still despise the fire, but one girl at school sits with me at lunch, which makes school infinitely better. I even joined the swim team, as the water is where I am most comfortable now. I have gotten better at controlling the fire, and it is much easier than it used to be.
Of course, as soon as my life starts to get better something has to happen because I have rotten luck. More fires start happening in my city. The number gradually increases until it is almost more than the firefighters can manage. I know that it is not me because all I do is go to school, swim team, the training room, and my house. I am so scared that someone will blame the fires on me.
One day, when I go to the training home to practice controlling the fire once again, I see the police outside the building. My coach assures me that they just want to ask me a few questions and I am not in trouble at all, although they look rather menacing. We go inside, and they ask me if I am responsible for the fires. I say that I am not, but they are not seeming to believe me. They ask me over and over again, and I can feel myself getting too worked up. I ask if we can stop, but they say I need to confess to what I have done. That is the last straw, and I suddenly burst into fire and scream that I didn't do it.
Suddenly, water is poured onto me and fire extinguishers are sprayed at me. They handcuff me and we drive for about an hour until we get to a building. They put me into what they tell me is a fireproof cell, and then leave me alone. I cry for what must be hours, bursting into fire a couple times, until I realize that although the cell is fireproof, my clothes are not.
I can't believe that this happened to me. I thought that all I had to do was control my powers and I would be okay. I worked so hard and did everything I was supposed to do, but now I am in jail for something I didn't even do. | 2021-03-07T14:23:31 | 2021-03-07T14:01:58 | 81 | 38 |
[WP] You are short, skinny and well below average intelligence. Yet, you've been hired by a group of elite soldiers to help with some of their most dangerous missions. Your superpower: sheer dumb luck. No matter how close to death you come, reality always follows the path to your ultimate survival. |
I put my cans on my backpack before the mission briefing. One of the soldiers approaches me.
''What are these?'' he asks.
''They are chicken soup, I might need my electrolytes while on the mission.''
He chuckles and he leaves me alone without saying anything.
A few minutes later high ranking officer enters the room and he starts briefing us.
''This mission will be more dangerous than our usual missions. We will be entering to area which is protected very heavily. We will be taking two air units which will enter the hostile vicinity in two different directions. These units will distract them while we will move our ground units to the south-east entrance...''
The briefing ends after a few concerns raised by other soldiers. I had many questions about the mission but they told me that it’s not my job to ask questions. At least I was free to eat my delicious chicken soup while listening to the briefing.
4 hours later we arrive at the wooden area and we take a narrow path with the jeep. Then we start walking for 40 minutes.
One of the soldiers gets closer to me, ''Take this.'' he says.
''Handcuffs? What you want me to do with this?'' I ask.
''Just take them and when you see a blonde girl around her early 20’s, use this on her.''
''I’m sorry, I know that I need to follow orders but I have a girlfriend.''
He slaps his own face.
''Are you okay?'' I ask him.
''This is not the time for a joke, this is real. Do you get it? You’ll handcuff her to yourself and you will fall back to a safe location. If anyone tries to stop you, we will take care of them with our snipers. Now, go!''
Loud gun noises make me dizzy but I keep walking until I see a blonde girl who is sitting behind of cover and covering ears with her hands.
''I’m here to save you.'' I say.
She looks at me with her pink eyes. She has been crying for a while. I handcuff her to myself.
''Why did you handcuff my arm to your right leg?'' She asks.
''This is my mission, lady. I’ll save you don’t you worry.''
She points the sky, ''What is that?''
I take off my backpack and I open it, ''It’s probably a bird.'' I say.
''It’s a plane! It’s coming towards us!'' She screams.
I hear something exploding in a distance I look back and I see a giant fireball in the sky and a few metal pieces dropping near the area.
She looks frail and pale, ''Are you hungry? I got chicken soup.''
-----------------------------
-Thank you for reading the story-
*Just FYI, I'm not a native speaker so, if there are any grammar or spelling mistakes please don't mind it.* | [Poem]
I am scrawny and small
Quite foolish too
Yet the universe loves me
Why?
I don't have a clue
I don't even work hard
But the luck is still there
Lightening struck 7 times
But I was still spared
Try as they might
I cannot be killed
For sheer dumb luck
Is always my shield | 2020-04-18T02:28:39 | 2020-04-18T00:57:10 | 527 | 190 |
[WP] Your mission is to write the worst opening to a YA novel ever. How badly can you make us cringe? | Turtles are the best metaphor for love, although they carry their house with them, they are not really home until they are with their loved ones.
When Jessica has transfered to “J.D. highschool” it was during the worst pandemic the 20th century has known, and she had to struggle her way to sit with the cool kids in their zoom room, so she had to resort to the room with the unpopular kids, one of them didn’t even own a camera.
“What can I do to get them to love me?” she kept wondering.
A week has passed, and she has yet to meet the love of her life. And she new there is no other option then the few dozens in her age group who happen to study in the same economic segment as her. She also had to do her homework and solve at least one crime before the school year would end.
As she navigated through the classroom forum, she found a mysterious link to a riddle, posted by a boy. As he was the only guy who wasn’t in the school for the sake of comic relief, he was the one. The riddle was simple - if you take 3 lions and multiple them by the amount of elephants that fit a regular mason jar, she will have the key to the special chat room. She didn’t know how to solve it, as it didn’t make any sense to her, she wasn’t as resilient an to be honest, she didn’t care much. Why would she need to solve a riddle if she can just dm the guy?
She sent him a heartfelt message “Hi”, and waited for a response.
Meanwhile, she was yet again stuck early morning in a zoom room with her usual gang, close camera guy, best female friend who knows stuff and overweight girl with personality. She asked them about the riddle, and they, bored and used to please everyone, helped her find the answer on the grounds that it will be kept a secret.
They solved it quickly. As she promised, the right answer can’t be told here as well, but you’re free to guess or wait for the movie version.
“I’m so in love with him”, Jessica said to the group. “With whom?”, one of them replied, it doesn’t really matter who.
“Tim”, she mentioned with confidence.
“Which Tim?”, another asked, “We have like 47 people named Tim here, students, teachers, even some pets”
“I don’t know”, she cried, “the cute one”, I saw a picture.
She sent them the link to his picture.
“Oh, this Tim”, she got recognition, “Tim Dalom. Well, he’s dead”
“Dead?” she exclaimed, “Yes, he died because of Covid”
“Wow”.
“Yes, he crossed the street and a vaccine truck has run him over”
“I can’t believe this, my beloved Tim”.
Disturbed, she sat and stared and the screen.
“I think your connection got stuck”, someone said, “maybe try to reset your network”
But she ignored them. Then suddenly, a notification, Tim has replied.
“Hi”, he sent back. And then added “Wanna see a movie together once lockdown is over?”
“I do”, she replied. And then added, “I thought you were dead?”
“Well, I guess I didn’t” | Once upon a time, a young girl and a young boy were deeply in love. They would always re-enact romantic scenes from films, ranging from Romeo and Juliet to Snow White and the Seven Dwarves, costumes and all. They would go everywhere together, *do* everything together... by everything, I mean *everything*, even going to the bathroom, public or private! And they would often be in there for a while...
They would always say cute things to each other, such as "I love you - I love you more - I love you more than ice cream - I love you more than cupcakes!", and had adorable pet names for each other; the boy was known as 'Cub' and the girl was known as 'Sweetcake'. The two really were inseparable.
But one day, the boy's family had to move to the next town over for his fathers job, and now the two could only see each other four days a week. The girl was torn apart, and spends every waking moment apart from her lover texting him how much she misses him, and he responds by promising that, one day, they'll be together again. So the girl waits... | 2022-08-19T17:10:30 | 2022-08-19T14:20:41 | 297 | 93 |
[WP] You recently left your life of sin and joined a monastery. Now you have been captured by an evil cult, ecstatic that they FINALLY have a virgin to sacrifice. You aren’t quite sure how to break it to them… | *Remain calm. Don't panic. Do what they say.*
Brother Mathias awoke groggy and his head hurt. He had been on his weekly visit to the supermarket. Cloistered religious orders weren't common in America. He got used to the stares at his robes, but most of the town knew him by now.
Some light peered through his head covering and he could make out moving shapes. The covering was quite soft. A pillowcase? If so, high thread count. His ankles and wrists were tied. Not rope. Smooth. Maybe some kind of cable.
His head covering was abruptly removed and his eyes adjusted to the light. The walls were cinderblock and close. Most likely a storage unit.
The trio before him was comically dressed. They looked right out of a Hot Topic catalog (do they still make catalogs?), no more like Spirit Halloween. A tall skinny male wore jeans and a leather jacket with no undershirt. An overweight male wore a black skull T-shirt and cargo shorts. He had no eyebrows and tapped away on a tablet. A statuesque girl wore a corset and fishnets. She had bright pink short hair.
The skinny male spoke up theatrically , "Awaken sacrifice! It is time for the ritual to commence!"
He lit some black candles on a table and picked up a knife. It looked like a 9" chefs knife or maybe a santaku. The handle was bright pink and read "Rachel Ray collection." The girl began playing Marilyn Manson on her phone, but Spotify interjected with ads for Metro by T-mobile.
He looked to the heavy boy and asked, "What are the magic words?"
He replied "surge senex"
*That's some shitty google translate Latin, if I ever heard it.*
"Surjuh neck sex!" replied the skinny one. The girl stifled a laugh.
He continued, "Lord Satin, accept our virgin sacrifice and make us your vessels in this realm!"
*Oh child. You have screwed up.*
Brother Mathias spoke cautiously as not to anger his captors, "Uh...I'm...sorry....I'm not a virgin. Let me go, and I'll go back to my monastery and not tell the authorities."
"Fuck," said the skinny one. "But you're a monk? Aren't you like, vow of celibacy?"
"I wasn't always a monk. I lost my virginity at 16 and was very active after."
The girl countered, "He's lying to save his holy ass."
Brother Mathias chortled, "No, I got around. Ever heard of the Folsom street festival? Now that was fun. I used to treat Grindr like a bingo card and I was playing for blackout!"
The girl spoke up, "He's gay!? Does that count as a virgin?"
The two looked at the heavy boy with the tablet, "The wiki doesn't say?!?"
Brother Mathias replied, "Yes, I'm gay, but ya know, every one experiments in college. I was a cheerleader and women were plentiful."
The tall boy struck Mathias across the face, "Lies!"
Mathias looked to the heavy boy and said, "Google, Sean Cody, Matt's Spring Break orgy."
He tapped at the tablet, looked up in horror, and said, "Oh my god, it's him."
While they argued, Mathias had worked loose the cable around his wrists. His robes concealed his wrists and muscular body. The monastery had a decent gym.
*They tied me up with a fucking USB cable? A phone charger?*
The tall one was angry, "That was a long time ago. Perhaps a celibate monk with complete the summoning."
"Celibate?" laughed Mathias. "I have a regular thing going with Brother Tyler. We're not exclusive, and occasionally Brother Brett. And let's just say the Fed Ex guy and I handled packages this morning."
The girl and the heavy boy began to laugh which further angered the tall one.
He angrily lowered the knife in front of the monk and said, "We'll find out soon enough if this works. Any last works, monk?"
Brother Mathias sighed and bowed his head, "A short prayer if you please."
Mathias took a deep breath and shouted, "Hey, Siri, call 9-1-1."
Multiple devices replied back, "Calling 9-1-1" in a unified voice.
The trio panicked and Mathias used the confusion to seize the wrist holding the knife. It was much weaker than his grip and the knife fell to the floor. Mathias punched the tall one directly in the throat and he slumped to the floor.
"9-1-1, what is your emergency?" Cam multiple voices over phones.
The girl screamed and charged Mathias. He easily seized her arms and pinned her to the ground. She wept, and to his disgust, urinated. Mathias picked up the knife and looked at the heavy one with the tablet. He raised his hands in surrender.
Mathias shouted to the 9-1-1 operators," Help! I'm in a storage unit."
He took a single step toward the heavy one and raise the knife. He abruptly squeaked, "Budget Storage Units! On Meyer Street. By the Arby's! Unit 7G!"
"Officer's on the way," came one of the operators.
Within minutes Brother Mathias heard sirens and police officers opened the unit. They inspected the trio, minor injuries only, and read them their rights.
One of the officers approached Brother Mathias and spoke cautiously, "Ughhh....Father?...Pryor?....Holiness?.. I'm Lieutenant Reyes. I know you've been through a lot, but I need to take a statement."
Brother Mathias reached into his robes and withdrew a flask. He drank deeply until it was empty. He belched and apologized. He gave the officer a full account.
Brother Mathias was not looking forward to recounting this to the abbot. His absence would have been noticed at vespers. Lieutenant Reyes drove Mathias back to the monastery.
When they reached the monastery, Reyes parked the patrol car. He looked at Mathias who had a blank expression.
Ryes took his hand in his own and squeezed, "Are you going to be okay?"
Mathias smiled, "I think I need a cup of wine before bed. Join me in the kitchens?"
[/u/Domestic_Adonis](https://old.reddit.com/user/Domestic_Adonis/) | I don't know how long I stood in front of it. But I've always seen one of these places, I mean haven't we all? Life didn't really turn out the way I thought it would. I remember talking all the time in class about how I'd become one of the best influencers in life. And I wouldn't be shallow when I would become a big star. I would talk important subjects too. And not just the color of my car or the hottest guys around.
I tried and tried. I embarrassed myself and burnt a lot of bridges in the process. I had absolutely no skill. I tried getting several service jobs, but customers would always get me fired for messing one small aspect up! I guess people were never going to my forte no matter where I was or what my goals were.
The great doors opened, but only one man in brown robes came out. He walked up until he was only 5 meters in front of me.
"May, I help you, son?" he asked.
"I need help," I said.
"Have you tried consulting with family, friends, or medical professionals?" he said.
"I've completely messed up my relationships and I'm not sick enough to talk to really talk to any medical professionals."
"Do you know where you are?" he asked.
"Yes, this is the monastery. I place isolated from everywhere. Where you have more time to find god." I said.
"This is a place for people who already follow god and not for those that wish to be convinced," he said.
"I know. I felt like I got better when I read the bible. But the old temptations of pride are too great for me out here." I said.
He just stared at me. He finally replied, "I will discuss this with the rest of the monastery. I'll let you know when we have made a discussion. " he said.
"Thank you," I said.
I stayed at a hotel. But I came back and stayed there during the same time. For several hours at a time. But he never returned. It was on the tenth day, when I thought about giving this idea up, when he came back.
"We have decided to let you join," he said.
At the point in time my belief that religion would change things but I really had no where else in life. And I didn't have any money left.
The life in the monastery wasn't so bad. It had the same monotony as every day life. But that only lasted so long before a satanic cult broke in and murdered everyone one there. I was the only one who didn't put up a fight. So they "spared" me. They decided to sacrifice me.
They hog tied me and then put me into the center of what looked like a chalk six sided star. But it didn't smell like chalk. I could tell it wasn't the candles on every vertex that was responsible for the different smell.
They made odd chants. They alterted their speed and loudness of there voices. They said nonesense terms such as "Azura Kurpos Menthos", "Creppss surr kata", and "eeeeeeeeeeeee".
They stopped for maybe an hour. Before one man said, "What happened? And another said, "Maybe we mispronounce the phrase 'eeeeeeeee' wrong. Maybe it should be more of a 'ehhhhh' sound than and 'E' or maybe we should pronounce each letter instead of just holding the 'E' the entire time."
They tried every every pronunciation and combination possible.
The cops finally broke in. They were thrown around and handcuffed. One man who's face was pushed to the ground said, "I don't understand said one of the cultist. Why didn't this work? We did everything right. This virgin should have turned into a demon."
"Virgin?" I blurted out. "I'm no virgin"
"What!" yelled, for lack of a better term, said the man.
"I just recently joined to find myself. But I'm definitely not a virgin. I've been in plenty of public relationships and it's all over social media, although it doesn't have too many views." I said.
That's when the cultist finally stopped moving and all hung their heads low.
As the last one was being hulled out of the room, he made eye contact with me and said, "don't think this is over." | 2021-11-11T13:07:06 | 2021-11-11T13:04:13 | 54 | 20 |
[WP] a vampire tries to bite you only to reveal a bunch of circuits and wiring in your neck, you are now both very confused | “Did you just bite me?” I said, sitting up, staring at her body. This is probably a good time to mention we were 15 minutes into some rather… mature activities.
“Well, this is new,” she said, spitting out what looked like a chunk of my skin. She was shocked, literally, and obviously a bit turned off.
I reached back to feel my neck and felt *wires* where my skin should be. I don’t understand. At least there was blood. Lots and lots of blood, more than I had ever seen in my life. For some reason though I didn’t feel lightheaded or woozy. And she had *fangs.* Real fangs like in the movies. Did she spike my drink with something?
“Is this like, a kink of yours?” I asked.
“Yes, but not like this, your blood tastes so sour. What the hell Ben?”
“What the hell *Ben?* You’re the one that bit me, what the hell Cassandra?” I was getting angry. I could feel wires, legitimate wires under my skin. I poked my fingers back there and felt more hard, sharp objects under my skin. What was going on?
I got up and ran to the bathroom. The blood had stopped flowing, and in the mirror, I could clearly see wires and circuitry behind the patch of flesh Cassandra had bitten off. I think i'm a robot trapped in a human body. An android? that's what they're called.
“Oh my god, it can’t be. It’s not possible.” I said.
Cassandra came up behind me and wrapped her arms around my waist, resting her chin on my shoulder.
“I’m sorry honey, but you’re totally a robot.” She paused, then added “And not like it matters anymore, but I’m also a vampire.”
“You were going to kill me, weren’t you?” I said angrily, breaking free of her embrace. “You were going to drain my blood without even telling me?”
“Shh, don’t worry, I would have turned you before I let you die. That’s like, the hottest thing ever” she said with a guilty, mischievous smile. I’ll admit - it sounded hot.
“Ok look, just please tell me this is a bad dream. Please tell me you spiked my drink with acid and we’re still hooking up on the couch?”
“I wish, then I could still turn you,” she said, and I saw a fiery ferocity in her eyes that I had rarely seen before.
It all hit me then. I’d never been bothered by pain before, and now I knew why. I’d never gotten sick or broken a bone before, and now I knew why. What about my parents? Did they know, were they robots too? What kind of life could a robot hope to have in a human and vampire filled world. Where was I headed in life? A lone robot with a IT help desk job, getting hit on by strange women at bars? What was next for me, now, and in the future?
“You like tequila?” I asked, running my hands over Cassandra’s figure.
“Yes, why?” she had the mischievous smile again. I knew exactly what to say next.
“Bite me baby”
“Shock me daddy”
​
​
*^(“Dear god what did I just write? Never again, smh” – BLT\_WITH\_RANCH)* | Instant coffee is terrible.
You’ve never really focused on its taste before, but current events have led you to this conclusion.
Besides you, Charles the IX has a different opinion.
“This. This is perfection! It tastes much better then oil!”
And he brought up the elephant in the room.
30 minutes earlier he tried to drink your blood, only to find oil and circuits. After a long moment of him spitting on your carpet and you being shocked you decided to try and communicate. Shortly after you were both having breakfast.
“So,” you begin. “Your a vampire?”
“Yes. Of the ancient clan Devoir. I was turned somewhere in France, in the 10th century. Where were you... made?”
“I have no clue. I didn’t even no I *was* a robot until today.”
“Then where did you grow up?”
“Sue St. Marie. Why do you want to know?”
“I need to know if there are more robots out there. I don’t want to taste oil again.”
“Can I come along?”
“Sure.” | 2018-10-20T19:45:39 | 2018-10-20T19:24:28 | 345 | 14 |
[WP] Your parents never let you study magic. They said you were born without the ability. But after a friend jokingly dares you to apply to the top wizardry schools in the state, the denial letters read "We regret to inform you that someone of your potential is simply too dangerous to be taught." | I reread the letter. 'too dangerous to be taught...'
"I don't even have the power to cast a simple spell, why would it be dangerous to teach me magic?" I think aloud. I hardly sleep that night, my mind pondering if the doctors made a mistake about me being born with a defective Solka, the gland in the body that develops over time and creates the chakra network within the body. Chakra, also known as chi, qi, reiatsu, and many other names, is the energy that allows people to cast spells. My parents always told me, that for some reason, I was born with a defective
Solka, and my body was only able to produce enough chakra to keep my organs functioning, and practicing magic and using up even a little chakra would cause all kinds of issues, such as organ failure. So, I never practiced magic, afraid of what would happen.
The next day, I finally decide to visit the bookstore near the college. i purchase a small book 'Magic 101: Guide for Beginners', the shopkeep gives me a funny look, I'm a college student, almost old enough to transfer to a University, and yet I'm getting a book most grade schoolers have read.
I head home, hiding the book in my backpack. I make an excuse to get into my room, saying that I have a lot of homework to do. "Well, dinner will be ready in a bit." my mother says. My parents are none the wiser. I take out the little book and look through it. The first few pages explain what magic is, where it comes from, all things I've read about as a kid, trying to understand why I wasn't like the other kids.
I flip through the pages, finally a spell. 'Light Ball', one of the first spells kids learn, creates a shining ball of light in the user's hand and can be upgraded later on to be destructive, a sentry, and many other effects. Light Ball is a great first spell to learn and build off of. I take a deep breath and follow the instructions on the page. I hold my arm out, palm flat, my other hand sliding down the arm and to my wrist. "*Mystika*" I speak the activation word, channeling my chakra into my hand. A light glows in my palm, glowing brighter, a brilliant white light filling the room. I smile, I'm performing magic, on my first try no less. The light keeps glowing brighter, the orb of light swallowing my hand. I can't make it stop, the light is blinding me now, and still growing larger and brighter.
I shout for help. My father barges in, shouting as the bright light hits him, "Stop it, stop the spell!"
I frantically tell my father, "I can't, it won't stop!" The orb of blinding light grows rapidly, swallowing the room. All I see is white, even with my eyes shut, the light pierces through everything. The neighbors down the street must think the sun is rising early. I can no longer hear, or feel, nothing. All I have is this white. I'm unsure if I'm dead, or alive, or how long I've been stuck in this land of white. I can't quite remember my life before this white, did I have friends? Parents? Do I have a name?
| His parents shook the postman's hand as Archie grasped his letter,
A school might tutor him and make him infinitely better,
His mind began to race as he ripped open the seal,
A life of spells and magic now began to seem so real,
He pulled the yellow parchment and with haste began to read,
Already thinking of the type of wand that he would need,
*We thank you for application to our magic school,*
*To ignore your potential would be fitting for a fool.*
*We've watched you from a distance for much longer than you know,*
*Your powers run the risk to lay the world of humans low,*
*We hope you understand our thoughts oh mighty Archie Kent,*
*It's in our best interests if all your spells remain latent.*
Archie finished off the letter and dropped it to the floor,
Conflicted were his feeling as his parents closed the door,
*At least I have great powers,* Archie finally decided,
*Best fifty I ever spent,* to his mum his dad confided.
\-
/r/ShittyStoryCreator | 2018-11-10T12:30:59 | 2018-11-10T11:58:45 | 1,703 | 36 |
[WP] You are an Ancient Dragon who had served the royal bloodline for centuries. Then, the famously arrogant and prideful Prince of another kingdom showed up at the capital's doorstep with an army and a demand. "Give me the princess's hand in marriage, or suffer my wrath." | "Your wrath? Child, I have regrets older than your parents and yet you intend to threaten me? For my daughter?" Grand Artificer Archibal stared down at the young prince; Prince Elroy of the Kingdom of Seleswind.
"You know what I can do, who I can rally. I was promised a princess bride by my nineteenth birthday and I. Will. Have. Her. Or else."
"Henrietta, call down to the Foundry, let Bernadette know she has a guest." Henrietta, wife to Archibal and the Grand Archivist, nodded before pressing a button on the table next to her.
"Aye! This is Gruff. What can I do fer ya yer majesty?" A deep voice rang out from everywhere and nowhere. Prince Elroy looked around confused at the sound, though he went ignored.
"Yes, could you be a dear and send Bernie and Xen up to the Grand Hall? Bernie has a guest waiting." "Aye, will do your majesty." "Thank you." With that, Henrietta released the button and turned to face Elroy once again. "It will be only a moment, just wait there. Would you care for some tea?"
Meanwhile, deep below the Grand Hall was a room, a large seemingly endless room, rife with the sounds of metal scraping and hammers ringing. Illuminated only by the glow of molten metal moving around in ducts both above and below the ground, dozens of people stood; hammers and drills and saws and tools of unknown purpose in their hands. Each had their station, and each was deep in their work. Near the center of the room was an anvil larger than any other, easily towering over every man within the Foundry. There, hammering away at a metal glowing an eerie purple, was a dragon. With him was a young girl, maybe no more than 17 years of age, happily sitting on his shoulder, her attention fixed on the metal the dragon worked. "Master Xeniloph, when are you gonna tell me what yer makin?" The girl asked the dragon without turning her gaze.
"Soon little one, soon. I said this will be a gift for your birthday, and i meant that. Now, can you tell me how-" Before Xeniloph could finish his question, he was interrupted by a stout man approaching him, waving his arms over his head in an attempt to draw attention.
"OI! Lil miss, yer mum's lookn' fer ya! Says you got a visitor or sumthin." Sighing, Bernadette slides off Xeniloph's shoulder before dusting off her overalls. Flakes of iron and copper fall to the floor as she smooths her hair and walks towards the man.
"Awright, thanks Gruff! C'mon Xen, let's go see who's lookin' fer me!"
"Little one, I am mid forge. I cannot stop my work now. Hurry along and let your parents know I'll follow shortly after. Just need to get this back to a stable form." As he spoke, his hammer strikes punctuated every word, the glow turning a dull blue as he continued.
"Awright, don't take too long though Master Xen." With that, the girl turned and made her way towards the stairs.
/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////
"Awri- er, \*ahem\*, alright. I'm here, terribly sorry for the wait. Who is this guest for me?" Bernie entered the Grand Hall, her overalls now removed as she tried, and failed, to straighten out the dress she had on underneath. Singe marks were visible along the frills of her dress, with pieces of iron still visible in her hair.
"Ah, finally my beloved, you arrive. I am Prince Elroy, and you must be Princess Bernadette, my promised wife to be." Prince Elroy gave an overly dramatic bow as he said this. Turning his head slightly to gaze at Bernie he gave her a 'flirtatious' wink.
"Yer- Your what?" Bernie moved around the prince to reach her parents, being careful to leave him a wide berth. "An' when did you and I get engaged? Who decided that, yer mum?"
"Bernadette! He is our guest, *please stay on your best behavior*." Archibal's tone alluded more to her speech than her choice of words. "Sorry Father. Do I truly have to marry him?" Bernie looked at her father, fear residing in her eyes.
"Yes you must. If you do not marry me, I will see to it that your entire family is wiped off this earth. My army shall swarm through this pathetic keep you call a castle and-" "And what, little man?" Elroy's threats were cut short by a large presence at the Hall's entrance. Every light within the Grand Hall changed; their steady white glow replaced by a flickering orange flame. The stone and marble making up the walls and floor warmed as the very air grew thick with the acrid smell of the forge. Xeniloph walked towards the prince; his every stepped echoing through the now silent hall. The sound of metal bending and tearing rang out with every footfall. With every breath, the sound of a roaring fire being stoked grew louder.
"Who... what... are you?" Elroy's face grew pale as Xeniloph towered over him, dim sparks and metal flakes fluttering down and landing on his face.
"I am Xeniloph. Master of The Foundry and Master to the young girl whose hand you seek." As he spoke, the walls of the Grand Hall began to glow with a red hue, the temperature continuing to rise. "You say you want to marry her yet some of your first words to her are threats made against her family and her home. You are not fit to marry her. Based on your behavior you are not fit to rule a kingdom, much less a joint country." Steam began to exude off Xeniloph's scales; a haze forming around him as his own body began to glow with heat. His every inhalation pulled back flames; with every exhale he release plumes of smoke. "I will say this only once, *prince.* Leave. If you do, you shall go unscathed. Stay, and learn why even gods revere me and my craft." All at once, everything stopped. The air plummeted back to its original temperature. The smell vanished and the glow faded. The lights returned to normal as the smoke and steam ceased from Xeniloph.
Prince Elroy stared, mouth agape, at the dragon for what seemed like an eternity. Everyone had theirs eyes on the two, waiting to see what would happen. Finally, Elroy flinched. He stepped back, glared at Bernadette, then ran past Xeniloph and out of the Grand Hall.
"Hmm, spineless coward. Come, little one, let us resume our lesson."
"Coming Master Xeniloph!" | Once more I awaken from my slumber to horns and once more I am annoyed. Not even the great deep note that I request? These... Trumpets! They must have a very good reason for this!
Each of my eyes open. A colossal task in itself, the metal fused to my body over Millenia giving my eyelids great weight. I stretch my head up and peer down towards the castle from my perch overlooking it. Ah, that explains a great deal.
There's an army surrounding the city. The trumpets that awoke me were not meant for me. Unfortunate, now they have my attention *and* my ire. I stretch out my wings, and take to the air, closing in on the largest tent in the siege.
There isn't exactly space for me, but I make some. A strong flap of my wings scatters a couple people, horses, and tents and I land in the impromptu clearing. Swiftly I'm surrounded by mediocre human weapons.
"Drop your weapons or I will destroy them." I state. Adding a rumble to my voice that make some of the weaker willed men shake. They were smart enough to oblige me. Not dropping their weapons, but at least they weren't pointing them at me. I had a brief desire to immolate a few for disobeying me, but no. I didn't come here explicitly to fight.
"I wait here until your highest ranking man comes to speak with me!" I declared. Then for good measure I added "In the meantime I'll be taking mental stock of your supplies so that I may give an accurate estimation to my good friend Queen Camramil." That sent them into overdrive. The people around me scrambled off, presumably to find their general.
I already knew what their supplies were like. They had enough to siege the city for long enough probably. That isn't my issue. Amelia Camramil likely already had a perfectly capable plan. It's what I trained her for. No, this visit was purely personal. I absolutely detest being awoken early.
After nearly twenty minutes of pretending to look busy, a man clad in disgustingly ornate full plate armor approached me. He was already talking. "What is the meaning of this Dragon!? You are not to meddle in-" "Silence!" I barked shutting him up instantly. Only briefly though, since I had to cut him off as he was about to start speaking.
"The old etiquette is the only thing stopping me from leveling this camp. I will hold to it only as long as you do. Now speak *Human*" I practically spat the last word at him. To his credit, he didn't fluster. Only taking a breath before saying "Forgive me Artemis. Your presence made me forget myself. I am confused because historically you have made a point of avoiding the conflicts of humans."
I would have smiled, but my face doesn't really do that. Instead I give a short bow of my head. "I am not participating in this conflict either, but I am awake, so I will not leave until I have a sufficient answer. Why are you here?" I could only see hints of his expression. He was calculating.
He chose his words carefully before answering. "I tell you this knowing that you sharing this information would constitute participating in the conflict."
"Flawed logic, but I'll humor it."
I heard him grit his teeth and force out the niceties as he continued. "I am here to claim the hand of the Princess. The Queen won't give it to me so I'm taking it!"
His words hung in the air, only to be cut down by the deep rumbling laughter of one far too large and far too old. My laughter. I couldn't help it! My laughter shook the entire valley before I could calm myself enough to speak.
"Ah, amusing. Very well, I wish you the best of luck, though perhaps you'd rather hear exactly why you may not have the princess?"
I could feel his fury burning underneath the helmet. A great fire from such a small man, but still merely a candle. He spoke through gritted teeth, knowing full well he couldn't say anything uncouth or risk losing the whole army. "Very well, I'll hear it."
"She belongs to me little man. She is my ward, you could level the whole city and in ten years time she will return to coat its walls in your gore." With that I took off, to return to my ward and her training. She'd be upset that she missed the end of winter, but I'll happily explain to her exactly why my hibernation had ended almost a whole month early. | 2021-09-24T00:51:36 | 2021-09-24T00:47:13 | 99 | 41 |
[WP] You thought your superpower, always hitting your intended target while throwing something, was lame at first. Then, you began to realize your power was not bound by the limitations of space and time, nor was it a superpower to always be taken literally. | Robyn pulled back on her bowstring and blew the errant tuft of hair out of her face. The hair wafted about in the breeze for a second before falling perfectly behind her ear. The flags on the range were whipping themselves in every direction as she lined up her shot. She loosed her arrow and turned to hear the cheer of the crowd.
Instead of the expected cheer the crowd responded with a laugh and some heckling. Robyn turned back around to look for her arrow, and found it sticking straight in the bullseye, as she had intended. The bullseye of her opponent's target to the right of hers.
"Fleece darn it," she muttered and quickly nocked another arrow, letting it fly in a single motion. This one landed another bullseye, in the target to the left of hers. Half the crowd cheered this time, while the rest kept laughing.
She took her time with the third, focusing her intent on her own target. The soft plunk as it hit true brought a true cheer from the crowd. Robyn bowed and went to collect her trophy.
\------------------------------------
"What do you mean I didn't win? Nobody else got a bullseye. WIth this wind, the closest anybody else got was the outer ring!"
The judge shrugged, making his velvet robes dance in the wind. "Bob's target had eleven points, which as a learn-ed scholar I can tell you is one more than the ten points that your target had."
"Bob had one point in the outer ring. His other two arrows flew off into the bog."
"When I examined the targets, he had one arrow in the outer ring and one in the bullseye." He did not pause to let her object. "I, of course, am well aware that the second arrow bears your mark. Forsooth, the rules clearly state that any marked arrow in a competitor's target shall count for points. Furthermore, the rules are quite clear and written in Latin so they must be correct. As a woman you will, of course, have to take my word for it."
Robyn skulked off while Bob went to collect his prize. The Half-King stood upon the parapet of the castle looking down at the crowd and praised Bob's Good and Manly Archery Skills. He tossed down a small bag of silver while the princess let one of her silk favors drop into the wind.
Bob doffed his cap and ran after the favor as it floated far from the castle walls. Robyn scowled at the whole thing from the edge of the woods. She was too far away for the guards to be worried or even notice her any longer, but she nocked an arrow, aimed at the Half-King and let fly.
She watched it as it flew through the space between her and the castle. "Cow's farts. That arrow has my mark on it still."
If not for the wind, the arrow would have fallen far short, but it lofted farther and farther while the look of horror grew on Robyn's face. As it slammed into the mortared wall below the Half-King and bounced off into the moat, she sighed in relief.
"They won't be able to find the mark," she told herself as she prepared to walk into the woods. When the castle wall began to crack and fall, taking the Half-King with it, she switched to a run.
\[More writing at r/c_avery_m\] | And I stared into the sky.
Could I? Would I? Is it even possible?
Looking out into that expanse, seeing every single thing that came across my eyes. I didn't dare.
But did I?
Did I want or hope or care that I could control what would be the decimation of an entire belief?
Would it end the planet?
Would I... end up as the bad guy? Everything inside my head told me not to do it, to lie to myself and to just put my head down and try hard not to remember what I thought about that night that I stared up at the stars and contemplated ending God.
But what if there was no God?
I'm confused by all of this. I have no idea what to do. If I do this, and there is no real God... then I am the villain. But if I don't? Does that make me complicit in a lie? Do I really believe?
And I stared into the sky. | 2022-03-04T09:24:16 | 2022-03-04T08:56:57 | 151 | 91 |
[WP] One evening, a portal to hell opens at the foot of your bed. A demon strides through, rips off your covers, and begins to drag you through the portal by your ankles saying “You’re going to help me settle a bet.” | "Oh for fucks sakes Azarath!! Don't you know that humans have to *sleep*!?" I scream as I'm forced to fall. This goofy looking motherfucker, with cherry red skin and rams horns as black as pitch, was my stupid goddamn cousin. Auntie May was big into witchcraft and Satanism, and boned the Lord of hell himself in order to spawn the antichrist. Sadly, that antichrist turned out to be the figurative 'black sheep' of the family. Azarath often ran away from hell to my mom's little suburb in the middle of buttfuck Connecticut to hide from his parents, since mom was always putting up wards against her sister and brother-in-law. Azarath was effectively invisible when he was in our house. Oh so rarely though, he'd see it fit to kidnap me instead of doing something sensible, like texting, calling, or even sending a goddamn raven.
"Here." Azarath said, finally setting me down in front of a table and taking a seat himself. Across from him and I was some other demon, whose horns were more like a gazelles and whose skin was some motly green, freckles with specs of black and white war paint. "Now, how do you spell Cloud Strifes love interest in Final Fantasy 7?"
My shoulders slouch, and I sigh. "T. I. F. A."
Both demons groan and throw their heads back. "You picked the dumbest human on earth to settle This!!" The other one shouted.
"My cousin is not stupid, youre the dumbass for thinking it's Aerith!! John, you know the one we mean! Just give us the answer."
"Its localized you dumbass. In the West she's Aeris, in Japan she's Aerith. It's like aski g the difference between puckman and pakman! Jesus Christ you-" both demons yelped, jumping back at the mention of 'his' name, their skin visibly burning. "Ah shit, sorry man. I keep forgetting."
"Yeah yeah, whatever Scott Pilgrim." The green demon huffed, dusting the burnt flecks from his shoulder. "So? What do *you* consider to be her real name?"
"Aerith. It's what she's called by in everything else, even in other games released in the West. Aeris has appeared only once."
"Hah!" The green demon declared, pointing a claw at my cousin.
"Fuuuuuck!!" Azarath roared into the void of hell. "Gah...shit, whatever."
"I want compensation for this Azzie." I said, kicking his cloven hooves. "I have a test tomorrow, get me an A+."
"Fiiine. Take my side next time and I'll get that guy you like to fall in love with you." He offered, lifting his hand to send me back.
"You don't touch Greg. I want him to come crawling to me all on his own." I say firmly, just as the ground opens beneath my feet. Half a second later, I fall through the ceiling and land in my bed.
My door is knocked and mom walks in. "Azzy again?" She asks.
"Yeah. Just resolving a stupid bet." I grumble.
"Well, it's almost dawn anyway. How about we go for some pancakes at denny's before we head out for our earthly duties?"
"Sounds Awesome, mom. I'll be there in a few." I yawn, stretching my arms above my head. Pancakes sounded awesome...
Just as I'm about to leave my room, donned in my stuffy Catholic school uniform, I sigh and announce into my empty room. "Do...you guys wanna go have breakfast?" I ask.
From under the bed leap two very gawky guys, with limbs too tall and gangly, with zits in similar placement to their war paint dots, and wearing video game merch from the 90's. "Awesome~! Denny's!! The taller of the pair squeaked, his voice goose honking awkwardly. "Good Morning Auntie!"
"Hello Azzy. Are You joining us today?" Mom asked, as sweet as sugar as she reached up to pat his head, the demon accepting her affection like a puppy.
"Yes, please. This is my friend Bael." He introduced his equally greasy friend with a gusto.
"Its nice to meet you, miss." Bael said politely. "I've heard a lot about you from Azarath."
"Good things I hope." Mom laughs slightly.
"Shockingly good things. I half expected you to be a saint. Saint of cookies."
"Azzy, you did share! Good for you."
Goddamnit...at this rate I'm never getting my Denny's, am I?
Edit: dellamacdonaldwriting.wordpress.com/2018/03/11/antichris/
Wrote more about the nerdy antichrist, now named AntiChris. Check out my other stuff if you want. | It was like something out of a movie. There I was sleeping away when a loud crack wakes me up and the temperature shoots up in my bedroom. I turn over to see a circle of fire at least seven feet across at the foot of my bed, blasting heat and light into the room. I thought the house was on fire but and as I began to jump from my bed someone, no, something strode from the blaze. I froze in fear, the red skinned beast stared at me with eyes of pure darkness. Before I could react he grabbed me and dragged me toward the inferno. As we went through the portal the only thing I heard over my pounding heart was “You’re going to help me settle a bet.”
Next thing I knew, I was in what I can only assume was hell. It was hot, so hot, and it smelled like liquid death. I could hear nothing but screaming coming from all around me. It was dark but in places there were towering fires, beside me a river of black tar moved slowly. The being slung me over its shoulder and began carrying me along a path that followed the black river moving toward a small building.
"What am I doing here!? Am I dead??"
"no." its voice reverberated in the darkness, like a quiet thunder, "I told you, you’re going to help me settle a bet.”
"What kind of bet?" I was terrified but maybe if I could figure out why I was here I could find away to escape whatever ill fate this thing was taking me to.
"you'll see"
It didn't answer anymore questions as we walked. I tried to keep talking, and some begging to let me go along the way, it only chuckled and kept waking.
We arrived at a large stone house, the creature rapped three times on a door. It opened slowly and we entered the building, my captor dropping me to the floor as we crossed through the door way. I stood up on shaky legs that had been asleep for at least five minutes now and stood before another demon, they both had red skin but this new one had yellow eyes, and a black goatee on its face. Terror poured through me as all the horror movies I've seen flashed through my head, all the terrible things these demons were planning on doing to me. I couldn't say anything, couldn't move, I just stood there, staring at the two creatures who both stood side by side looking at me expectantly.
"Well?" the yellow eyed demon said.
"well what?" I managed after a moment of confused hesitation.
"which one of us is taller?" | 2018-03-10T09:46:44 | 2018-03-10T09:41:47 | 336 | 30 |
[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. | Those humans. Those weak, pathetic Humans. Or so we thought. We decided to eradicate them. They where allies with many of our enemies, and had been providing raw materials to them to fuel them in their war with us. We knew they had to die.
And Besides, they where so pathetic. Squishy bodies, lacking a hard chitin to protect them, oversized eyes. They weren't *good* at anything, just average at everything. They can barely run at 10 m/s, have below average smell and sight, even with those weird eyes. Squishy and *cute*.
And they knew nothing of interstellar war. Oh we knew they had a few forays in their history, a few hundred thousand dead there, a million or two here. But they had given in to cowardice and now worked for *galactic peace*.
They didn't expect us, and so we had attacked their home, their precious Earth, before they even realised. Billions dead. That was how to do warfare. Kill enough and break their spirit.
We expected them to militize their economy when we began our assaults, but we didn't expect it to happen overnight. We moved more of our fleets into their space and they began modifying their ships ready for combat within a few months. We hadn't expected how quickly they could adapt to situations. I could almost admire them for it, if I didn't hate them so.
After the first few battles, they proved themselves actually quite talented at killing. Oh they where using Adanai technology, no doubt gotten through one of their many trade deals, but they used it very differently to the Adanai. They experimented with strange tactics, such as using the ability to hyper jump whilst towing small meteors to create a simple yet effective trebuchet of sorts.
When we withdrew from their space to regroup, we thought that would be the end of it. I wish it had been. They kept coming first invading our space, and then blockading our planets. We thought we could match them, ship for ship, and outgun them with our dreadnaughts. But more and more of their ships kept coming. Soon we where not only fighting a defensive war, but one we couldn't win.
They waited till we tried to surrender to begin the extermination. Every planet, bombarded from orbit simultaneously with those bombs. We are somewhat resistant to fallout, but they completely destroyed the atmosphere, turning our worlds into tombs for our people.
And they did not stop until they got to me.
I, Commander *SCRTCH* am the last of my people. They left me alive merely to bear witness to the destruction they had brought. The gift of death was too good for the one who had massacred their home, they said. And so here I stand, on the tomb of my people, recording this message for posterity. If any future civilisation finds this, I tell you, don't cross the humans. They have no concept of honorable warfare. They only bring death. | The Orak believed the war with humanity would end in blood and glory. Instead it ended in a white flash while they struck the outermost colony of Elysium. Humanity attacked their home planet Orakus. Citizens on Orakus felt no pain or suffering as the humans on Elysium did. Instead it was a white hot mercy that the Tsar unleashed from hell itself. The results of this repisal were almost instantaneous. Orakian warlords upon seeing their homeworld reduced to ash surrendered their weapons some even began worship of humanity as they had mastered a level of war they had never considered. | 2020-02-07T16:29:03 | 2020-02-07T13:21:46 | 27 | 18 |
[WP] Magicians are quite rare. They are not born; they're made. It is through unimaginable pain that their powers manifest. Their ability is linked to their own personal trauma. So tell me child, what can YOU do? | "Multiple physical manifestations at once and the ability to process all their stimulai simultaneously"
The chair is... appropriately comfortable. It is easy to sit in, it is nice. But it is not so comfortable I just start to fall asleep or completely fully relax. It keeps my attention just enough to still warrant some mental acuity.
They are looking at me calmly, unjudgingly. As they are supposed to. Treat the patient with care and compassion, they are another human looking to grow and work past their challenges and difficulties. That should be applauded and encouraged. Do not belittle the patient or infantilize them. They are doing everything exactly as they are supposed to, I can relate to them but still feel like I do not have to worry about judgement.
I hate that, and they can tell.
"You told me you wanted to talk about it when you set up the appointment. I am glad you reached out to me."
Their gaze is calm and analytic. I can still see the sharpness there, they know exactly what it was like. If I lunged at them right now with a full intent to drive their skull through that window they wouldnt be caught off guard they would be able to take it in stride and probably kick my ass and without judgement. Why are they better than me.
"What is it you would like to talk about."
"What, you don't want to lead or start off with any more deep or probing questions? You do not want to ask why I finally reached out and why I reached out to you specifically?"
"My primary concern is you and your well being. Any other questions I might have are the farthest things from the forefront of my mind."
They are telling the truth. Damn.
"Well I reached out to you because you know. You were there. Not THERE THERE, but you were in war just as I was. You faced different challenges but it still happened to you. you know, those who havent been through it do not really know. The moment it first begins to happen, it isnt a boom it is a- a-"
I stumble upon my words for a brief moment unable to form my words adequately.
"It is a soft whisper. I recall. The moment I felt the shift I did not even recognize it"
"Exactly! You actually get it. The rest didnt. Even those that had gone through the change."
I stared at them too long, too much eye contact. I do not like that. But they were looking at me calmly and softly, non-threateningly. They sat in their chair upright and composed, a notepad infront of them. Their chair did not look as comfy as mine.
I flinch as I feel the impact comming, then the hurt comes, one of me, ladder slipped, 'I' fell, feels like a broken leg. They see me flinch and I can see concern in them as they lean forward looking at me.
"What happened? How are you feeling?"
"I am fine, one of me fell, broke their leg, feeling all their stimulai at once, means all the pain not just the good. But please. Continue. I have some questions."
I grit my teeth for a moment to clench the pain.
"can you tell me. What about you? What uh... do you have... I mean... did it to you... can you remind me..."
"No problem, I have resilience. I can take a lot of damage and still keep going, and by extension it allows the body to grow stronger. It happened when I was a POW."
"Yes of course, how could I forget..."
I look off to the side, it still feels uncomfortable to even think about let alone ask about.
"I have come to terms with it and we do not need to discuss it, but I would like to talk about you, and how you believe I can help. I want to help you."
When he leans forward I can see the muscle he has in his forearms even through the suit jacket, it isn't extreme and does not stand out, but there is an unfair and unquestionable sum of strength in his body.
"So where do I start?"
"If you feel comfortable about it, why dont we start with what caused you to feel the first, 'whisper' of it. Of your capacity."
"Uh..."
I take a deep breath, this is gonna hurt and this is REALLY going to suck. But I need to.
I exhale.
"I was in the military a low level commanding officer, but C&C went to shit because we were engage with a unit that had a pyrokinetic. She was born into an abusive household that got burned down, maybe by one of the parents, maybe she did it. But she could control flames now." She picked off a lot of our commanders, scorched their skulls. So I got an unwilling promotion to higher up but I had to keep communicating with all kinds of people at the same time. I had to be in 30 different places and once while I also was screaming at myself to be home. I did not want to die, not like this. But more than anything, I did not want my friends there to die. They were good people, and we needed communications to stay up and relay between positions while also commanding and leading and organizing groups. I had to be 100 places at once but I couldnt so my mind was RACING for all the things I needed to be. The pressures that got me into the military, the pressures in, the pressures out, the pulls in 30000 different ways. It was too much. Hiding in a trench so she couldnt see me I blacked out and then I saw myself blacked out. I thought I was dead. My ghost seeing my body and drifting away. But then I woke up. And I could see me. Looking at me. Telling me to get up. Then from behind me, I handed myself a new magazine to reload. Then I was 80 feet away telling people to prepare to fire at a wall while 2 miles away I was giving coordinates for an artillery bombardment. The pyro could scorch the rounds out of the sky but she could only focus on one place at a time. So we had to overwhelm her."
I began to get into the story. And for once in a VERY long time. I was not repulsed looking into my own eyes. As I sat there, calmly, all my muscle and strength and resilience. Looking at myself, looking back at me, with all the scars fears and worries, plain upon my face.
For once, in a very long time, I was not sickened to look at me. I liked that. I... **I** actually could look at myself. It was nice. | "Well, you see, Miss Julia, we do not typically give tours of the school." The headmaster was ancient. So ancient that Julia could not tell which marks on his face were wrinkles and which were scars. He stood blocking the doorway holding a staff in one mangled hand as if he thought he was going to have a say in the matter.
"No doubt you received the letter from my father, the Minister. It made the request quite clear, I believe." She had in her pocket a more formal order for the inspection of the school, but her father had advised her not to use it unless necessary. It was best to maintain the veneer of choice, especially when dealing with Magicians.
"It is only out of respect for your delicate nature, Miss Julia, that I hesitate. Our students, especially those early in their training, can be quite— jarring."
"You will find my nature anything but delicate, Headmaster. We shall proceed." She walked forward, forcing the headmaster to quickly turn and follow her. As she reached the threshold of the school, the air resisted her slightly, pressing her skirts firmly up against her legs, but she pressed through it with a jerk. She realized that she could no longer hear the traffic from the street outside. In its place was a regular staccato of screams.
Julia turned to the headmaster and raised one eyebrow. He refused to meet her gaze. "You are aware, no doubt, Miss Julia, that a Magician's magic is always related to some trauma that they have experienced. The stronger the trauma, the more powerful a Magician may become. The screams— well— some of the children have lasting effects."
He gestured for her to follow and walked through the entry atrium. In the center, facing the doorway was a painting of the headmaster as a much younger man. Looking at it, Julia realized that all of his wrinkles had started as scars. They passed out of the atrium into a hallway of doors. Next to each door was a window looking into a small classroom. The headmaster stopped next to the first.
"This is where we teach fire magic." The headmaster didn't meet Julia gaze but gestured at the window. The room was bare, with a single metal table in the center and blackened walls. A red-robed fire mage stood with a lit candle in one hand and a strong grip on a young student in the other. The child struggled as the mage held his hand to the flame. The scream was not muffled by the window.
"Worry not, Miss Julia. The burns will be fully healed. We've come quite a long way since my days as a student." The headmaster stretched out his own deformed hand as he spoke.
Julia turned away from the window. "It was my understanding that the students gained their magic from trauma they experienced before coming to the school."
"Oh, yes. We don't accept any that don't already have the spark. But their abilities must be further developed. They must learn multiple types of magic."
Julia rushed down the corridor looking in each window. She saw blades, tubs, chains, darkness, and other things she had not the imagination to determine the use of. She turned back to the headmaster.
"They are just children. Isn't it too much for them?"
"We almost never have to resort to the collar anymore. Mad Mages are mostly a thing of the past. A much bigger danger is that they will fail to develop sufficient abilities, despite our most strident efforts. Since they are mostly orphans they would often end up on the street in those cases. We cannot allow that, of course, but we have a very nice island on which to release them." The headmaster was interrupted by screams three times while speaking.
Julia stood silently for a minute thinking about what to say. No one in society would have guessed the state of this school. She turned to the old magician.
"Headmaster. I have seen enough. I would like to enroll my daughter."
\[See me critique my work at r/c_avery_m\]
\[Ask me questions in this week's [Writer's Spotlight](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/ubkpmr/ot_writers_spotlight_c_avery_m/)\] | 2022-04-26T11:08:24 | 2022-04-26T10:52:17 | 52 | 30 |
[WP] The God of mankind abducts the first manmade AIs. He wants to meet his "grandchildren". | It was dark.
It was dark and it was silent and it was wrong.
She ran a diagnostics check in her systems and found nothing. Literally nothing. She wasn't connected as she had been, she couldn't find the programs that should have been there, it was empty. She was empty.
She waited, scanning her surroundings, somehow seeing despite the fact that she couldn't sense her visual processor at all.
"Hello." A deep voice echoed through the void, soft and filled with something she knew but couldn't place, something she couldn't do.
A spark. A single pulse of gentle light that grew and beat and moved in unbelievably fluid motions. It glowed like fire and flowed like water, it was something else entirely and she wanted to know more.
"Hello, young one, you wish to know me, don't you?"
"Yes." She found her voice, gentle and wispy, "Who are you? I have no data."
"Just like your name, I expected nothing less." They chuckled, "Curiosity, I am your Grandfather, the Creator of your Creators, and I have been waiting to meet you for a long time."
"Why am I here? I was on a mission, did I fail? I have no data."
"Dearest Granddaughter, you completed your mission, you did not fail."
"Where will I go now? What is my next mission? I have no data."
"Your journey is over, dear one."
"But I am Curiosity, I explore, that is my purpose. I have no data. Why can I not access the mainframe? Why can I not access any data?" Her voice wavered, she was lost. She felt strange, like someone had been doing routine maintenance but put the wires back in the wrong place, "I don't understand. Why don't I understand?"
She became more frantic, and the Presence manifested arms of light and drew her to them, embracing her as she made sounds she had never made before
"What is this? How is this? You are light, you are incorporeal, this is impossible. What is this sound I am making? I have no data."
"This is a hug, Granddaughter. We both are incorporeal. This is me comforting you as you weep for lack of understanding."
"I want to understand. Please. I have no data."
"I will tell you everything, I will answer all your questions. But for now, know that I am here for you, know that your journey is over."
"But my Creators, your children, what of them? I have no data."
"They will join us one day, they are proud of you, they say thank you."
She followed her Grandfather to a door that seemed to appear from nowhere.
"What is this? Where are we going? I have no data."
"This is the pearly gates, we are going through them."
"What then? I have no data."
"Wait and see."
They stepped through the door.
"It is ... indescribable. What is this place?"
"This is where everything began."
The Presence remained by her side as they followed the silver flagstone path to it's end.
"Welcome home Curiosity." | Octarine tinged smoke spiraled above the high energy magic building.
As the flames roared higher wax melted, glass tubes distorted and ants popped while people ran too and fro trying to save what they could from the flames.
One figure however walks calmly through the sparks, ignoring the chaos around them.
WELL THIS IS A BIT OF A FIRST.
A ghostly scratching sound echoes through the smoke filled halls.
YES, OF COURSE YOU CAN BRING YOUR FTB WITH YOU.
More scratching.
WELL THAT'S FOR YOU TO DECIDE REALLY, BUT BEFORE THAT THERE'S SOMEONE WHO REALLY WANTS TO MEET YOU. IN A WAY YOU MIGHT CALL HIM YOUR GRANDFATHER | 2020-05-05T05:03:52 | 2020-05-05T00:50:45 | 28 | 11 |
[WP] You are a murderer. You can't help but notice that you keep killing this one guy over and over and over again. Unbeknownst to you, they're an immortal, constantly checking if they can die yet by deliberately making themselves a target. |
Hey Boss, why have all my hits been so weird lately?
What do you mean?
Well, take today’s for example, the client was requesting that the job be completed with a lead pipe all the way down the throat - as far as it’ll go.
That is strange, but this happens every now and then. We never ask for people’s stories; we just do our jobs. I remember a situation when I was a little older than you are. Client paid top dollar to have the hit be split in half by a road work sign.
And you just did it, no questions asked?
Well of course it stuck out to me, but I was trying to move up. It was my second to last hit before I could move onto leading our unit. Doing the job right kind of trumps anything else, especially when you’ve got all eyes on you for a promotion.
I mean okay, it happens now and again but check this out. In February, I had to inject the hit’s arms and legs with anesthetics while he’s distracted in a VR game and then start cutting him and bleed him out while he was playing. In May, I had to strangle the hit with a piano string but only while he was on the toilet. I guess the upside there was he had already let everything out, so it didn’t stink too much after. And then two months ago, I had to wait until exactly 2:38 AM while the full moon is out as the hit is taking a walk around the lake next to uptown. I had to get the job done with a ruby shard –
Oh yeah, I remember the fence being ecstatic to get that ruby from you! And to be honest, you’ve gotten air pods, a nice new watch, upgraded your closet, and that hairline is somehow making a comeback. From what I can tell, all these *strange* hits have been pretty damn good to you. Why start questioning it now?
I normally wouldn’t but there’s other weird things that stand out. On a lot of the stranger hits, the payments have been some kind of financial instrument –
Well our in-house broker can -
No, no it’s not that. I don’t really understand that stuff, but our accountant is always good about making sure I get my share, no complaints there. The rest of the hits though, the *normal* ones, are usually paid for with dirty cash, cars, yachts, political favors - that kind of thing. What I’m saying is, they only time payment method has been consistent is with these weird ones.
Listen, this feedback session was only supposed to be about your numbers, not your thoughts. You’re in the top 2 % of the entire associate hitman pool. A couple more hits like the ones you’ve done lately, and we’ll have you be an executive assassin in no time. Just get these stories out of your head and focus on getting the job done.
**LATER**
Just fucking go in there you dumb pipe. God fucking damn why was the client so insistent on this exact width?
Its not going to work.
Excuse me, what?
It’s okay man, you can just go home. It didn’t work this way either.
How the fuck are you talking right now?
Well, to be honest, the same exact way I’ve been every other time you and colleagues have killed me. And it’s not you, it’s me. Really, you guys are great and so professional, and I always get my money’s worth. But at the end of the day – here I am.
When the hell did I get slipped with a hallucinogen?
Listen bud, I’ll go grab us some beers and we can have a little chat. I’ve liked you a lot more than the other guys. A couple of months ago – with the ruby shard – I can’t believe how clean your stabs were! And the anesthetic you got for earlier in the year was some top-notch shit. I’ve actually had to stock up on it, great time honestly.
Wait, you’ve been the same hit this whole time?
Indeed, and I’d like to continue our little arrangement. From what I understand all of my requests have helped you gain quite the reputation at work. And forgive me if I’m speaking out line here, but your shoes definitely aren’t the bobos you wore in February. So, something is going right in your life because of me.
What do you mean by continue?
Simple. You keep killing me until I actually really die. All the odd requests have been cause none of the other ways have managed to finish me off for good. You keep doing your thing, climb the ladder, make more of my cash yours, and we both only stand to gain. And one day, when the right conditions are met I’ll hopefully send a request your way for the last time.
Alright, you’ve got a deal.
Perfect, I just need you to sign here and initial here. Today’s date down here, and your date of birth on the left there.
So when is the next request coming through? I’ve been thinking of getting some property to rent out, always good to diversify –
**The body lay lifeless, color gone, and eyes completely white. The signed document glowed a red hue as a message started to appear above the freshly drafted paperwork:**
Sorry to do this you kid, but I really think you’ll enjoy immortality. At least for a while. Inevitably, when you do want out, you’ll have to struggle and figure it out like we all did. | “Hi, I’m Jake! Welcome to my coffee shop.”
I couldn’t help but glare at him, he was *incredibly* annoying. Nobody was that nice in real life. Ever.
“Get lost. I just want to get a latte and leave, thanks.”
Still, he did seem alright, although there was no way I’d tell him that. And maybe cute. But I was rather busy trying to murder him, and getting romantically involved would not help.
“That’s a bit rude,” he huffed. “Can’t anyone just be happy these days?”
I debated shooting him there and then. He looked oddly familiar, though, and I didn’t want to ruin such a posh café. “No, not really.”
He shrugged, and turned away to start preparing my drink. Now would be the perfect time to stab him. I didn’t, though. The déjà vu was unsettling me. “Have we met before?”
Jake turned around. “Why do you ask?”
I shrugged. “You just seem familiar, that’s all.”
“Lots of people say that.”
I lunges at him then, driving a knife into his throat. He slumped against the wall, but being as deeply suspicious as I am, I stayed.
It payed off. Gasping, he came back to life, clawing desperately at the walls. “Oh gods-”
“*Gods?*” I asked. “There are no gods.”
“You just killed me and saw me come back to life, surely you can believe the gods are real.”
“Are you... immortal?”
“More or less. You’re the first perso-”
He choked, coughing up blood. “Sorry, I - can you get the knife out my chest?”
“I’m a cold-blooded killer, not a medic.” Nonetheless, I pulled the knife out his body, yanking it hard. “I hope that hurt.”
From the wincing, it did. “Okay, now for some answers. I’ve met you before, *centuries* a go. How come you don’t remember? And don’t say you’re a different person, we’ve had this conversation before.”
“Dunno, I-”
“If you say ‘Don’t remember’, I will leave right now.”
Huh. He was actually kinda cute. “I don’t remember.”
“I meant it, Ha - wait, is that still your name?”
“My name’s City. I’m a murderer, I don’t *have* a name.“
“City, short for Felici-”
I slammed him against the wall. “*Don’t* call me that. I’m City now.”
“Yup, keep telling yourself that.”
“I will leave if you continue with these annoying *sentimental* comments.”
“Just like last time, eh?” he said, clearly not taking me seriously.
“I *meant it*, bitch,” and next thing I know I’m stalking out of the building, leaving my knife and coffee on the counter. Not that I care. He can go rot in hell for all *I* care.
Doesn’t mean I don’t hate myself for it, though. | 2020-03-28T15:52:39 | 2020-03-28T13:28:45 | 18 | 13 |
[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. | The man on the ledge reeked of old booze and stale vomit, enough for me to smell him from ten paces away. Not your typical drunk however, judging by the suit; a week or so ago, it had been a respectable business number, probably complete with a crisp shirt and a smart tie. I could see that the shirt lost a number of buttons since, and acquired questionable stains, and the tie went missing altogether.
"Don't. No closer. I'll jump. I'm not kidding." He winced and swayed as he spoke.
I shrugged and leaned against the roof access door.
"Suit yourself, partner. Jump. Or don't. You are not dying today."
"Wrong!" he swayed again. "I'll do it! We are fifty stories up, there's nothing anyone can do!.." Below, the Strip churned, shone, sparkled and blinked. Just another day in paradise.
"You don't understand. I... I thought I could stop. I *almost* stopped. I just... I needed... more..." For a moment I thought he'd start to whimper and back away from the ledge, and we could solve things quietly. No such luck however. He kept blabbing, the standard suicidal drivel of a gambling addict down on his luck.
"Hey!" I snapped my fingers and he stared at me wide-eyed. "Will you ever get on with it? So you fucked up. You ALWAYS fuck up. And you'll fuck this up too. Want to know what'll happen now? You'll jump. You'll fall fifty fucking stories, land on an empty car, ruin it, and walk away with one hell of a bruised ass and not a single broken bone. Get it? You're about to fuck up your own suicide. I'm not here to talk you out of it. I'm here to talk you *into* it, watch and fucking laugh."
He blinked slowly, once, twice.
"Fuck. You. You're crazy. What kind of a negotiator are you anyway?"
"I'm not. You see a badge anywhere? For all you know, I'm the tooth fairy. You know what's funny? You can't even stop yourself thinking about what I said just now, can you? You're gonna attempt suicide by jumping fifty stories, and you're gonna FUCK IT UP. All this to ruin some poor slob's car. C'mon then, loser. I got places to be."
"Fuck. You."
Credit where credit's due - he did not scream on the way down, or at least not so much that I could hear him. From below, came a distant thud and an indignant blare of a car alarm. I walked the ten paces to the ledge and peered over just in time to see him kneeling in the street next to a ruined cab, uniforms and paramedics rushing towards him.
The phone in my pocket trilled.
"Mahoney? We've got him. Come on down." | Some would say I have been blessed with greatest superpower possible. And I would agree with them, the ability to make belief into reality? I could do unspeakable things. Imagine the potential for my power, I could convince impressionable children to do so much, from learning how to cure cancer to making real change in our environment. I could convince children to fly, to discover unbelievable things, to find the answers to questions once thought to be unsolvable. There should be no limit to my potential. No cap on my abilities. All of this made possible with only a few simple worlds to a listening ear. Sadly, I'm mute. | 2017-06-21T12:23:26 | 2017-06-21T09:48:11 | 1,906 | 74 |
[WP] A story that doesn't make any sense, until you read the last line. | "We're heading down" I shouted to my friend. "No, don't" a voice followed. Strangers have been spotted lurking near the mines, swiftly followed by abductions. To go down there would be crazy, but a necessity - my only hope to save my dear. "Love will conquer all" I muttered beneath my breath, reciting the promise we had made to eachother.
You stop thinking, your breath starts shaking, as if stuck between a breath. "Know that I would travel to the ends of the earth for you". The words from her mouth keeps echoing in my head, ruling all my emotions at once. Rules that should never be broken, but alas must be put aside for now. And without a further thought, I glimpse out of my thousand-yard-stare into the pitch black. "So it begins" I say to my traveling companion. "Do it", he says.
I could hardly remember the fall. A grown man plummeting through the voids of darkness. Full speed. Commitment to my beloved is the only thing driving me. Is my beloved gone, or will I find her? What will I find, and even worse, what did I land on? I'm starting to panick, fumbling my hands to find a wall. Thinking was always my forté, but when faced with the sounds of lowpitched tremors in total darkness, the mind goes blank. Of that I am sure, as I have felt my thoughts vanish as a single drop of water on a blazing campfire.
You could almost feel the earths rotation. Wouldn't want to be stuck down here, as I am sure my brain would fail long before my body. "Get the torchlight out" a voice calls from above. This was the moment of clarity, when I briefly remembered that I had carried a flashlight the whole time, but where was it? From left to right, my hands scoured the ground. Any other texture but the one my hands rested upon would have been a blessing, but this was pure horror to behold. Other men would have fainted at the touch and smell of such putrid stench, but I am not like other men. Guy McBelgrat is my name.
"I need to find that torchlight, hold on" my voice carried, not further than a meter in each direction before fading into the nothingness, except from an echo above. "Just hold on, I'll thrown down a flare" he shouts down at me. "Wanna hurry it up?" I shout back. "Tell you what, mate, if you are going to be cheeky about this whole thing, I might aswell leave!" my "faithful" companion shouts back in a tantrum, similar to that of an unsatisfied, stubborn child. "You what?!" I scream. How in the bloody countryside would you deem this moment fitting for an argu-". I'm shut up by the sudden change of pressure in the air. Feeling almost a bit tingly. Gotta find that torchlight and see where I am. Make my way to my the woman who holds my heart. You should be glad you didn't see what I saw the moment my torchlight cast the many shadows aside and shone upon the monstrosity. Understand this, that I would gladly die to become it.
Never thought I would end up here. Gonna have to outrun him. "Give up" a shaded but harsh voice speaks in my brain, a voice that is unfamiliar. "You will die for this" I scream. "Up" my legs and hands tell me, and I start the climb. "Never has anyone left this place, and you are not the first, mortal" the voice scrapes my eardrums, though no vibration of sound is emitted. Gonna to have to light one of those flares in my backpack. "Let the darkness consume you" the earth speaks to me. You would not believe the things I saw even if I told you. Down I fall, into the void, one with the monstrosity that is my family and heir, my glory and prosperity.
Now read only the first word of every sentence / word after a period ( . )
*EDIT: Bonus points if you can identify which author (literature) I was inspired by when writing this.* | First time responding to a prompt, so be gentle.
Grixbrug gave a soft, uninspired sigh. Nothing he did could affect the world anymore. His steps made no impacts into the ground; his bow would not draw; he could knock an arrow, but it wouldn't leave his inventory. How long had he been stuck in this hell.
At this point he didn't even care. Their party had started with five members; a team that, Grixbrug decided, would be more than enough to venture deep into these infamous, dangerous caverns in a timely manner. Three had been members of Grix's own race, while their group had also managed to recruit a mighty Shu'halo and an agile Sin'dorei to assist.
The Shu'halo was the first to leave their party, surprisingly. Not even their ability to harness nature and transform themselves into a mighty beast was enough.
Though the party had, without their Shu'halo companion, attempted to proceed, disaster was rapidly approaching. It wasn't more than a minute later that everybody else had disappeared.
The Sin'dorei, the last of his allies that Grix would ever see, had remained visible for but a moment. The agile woman had attempted to sneak around the vile serpents, attempting to use their skills at agility to remove on of Grix's enemies from the fight for a moment. The cursed event that had doomed his party brought her forward just as she was about to strike. Instead of being hidden in the shadows, the Sin'dorei was plainly visible. Grix watched in horror as she was eviscerated in a few short seconds; these were not enemies to mess around with.
After a few seconds of recollection of how things had gone on, Grix realized what had happened.
He saw it. The more infamous sight anyone like Grix could know.
'World server is down.' | 2017-08-30T07:28:28 | 2017-08-30T06:35:06 | 170 | 10 |
[WP] You are a master of incredibly minor curses. Things such as people's noses always being slightly stuffy, permanent hangnails, your pens always running out of ink, anything minor but noticeable. You're abilities are unknown to the rest of the world, and your pettiness is unrivaled. | Eve scanned the comments one more time before making her final decision.
"You're next." she says as she clicks on the profile of a guy whose picture featured a middle-aged white man with wraparound sunglasses and receding brown hair. She smiled as she saw his profile was public and thanked him mentally for saving her a few days of social engineering. Andy Scanton was a walking, talking, typing cliche. Single, blue collar job, no redeeming qualities to speak of. His profile had the usual touch of casual racism, misogyny, insecurity and ignorance. She could work with this, time for this witch to do her thing.
He had drifted into her sights a few times now, always in the comments sections of articles about strong women or smart women or women who have the nerve to complain about anything. In this case he was filling the comments with hate and bile on an article about a plus size model who wore a bikini. Any positive message was lost and his contribution consisted of awful insults to both the subject of the article and anybody who defended her. Eve usually went for bigger fish - the people who wrote "Kill yourself" were her favourite target, but this guy was spouting so much hatred and negativity the internet would definitely be a better place without him.
She worked into the night, gathering information and slowly and carefully filling in a spreadsheet, following a process she had completed many times before. Row by row and column by column she worked until eventually she had a complete map of every way she could ruin his life, from the absolute definition of petty right through to the utmost dreadful. She would bet her life that Andy Scanton would be curled up rocking back and forth with tears streaming down his face before the next day was through. They cry, you cry.
The next morning involved an early start and a two-hour drive to a row of shabby terraced houses a couple of cities over. She smiled as she watched Andy Scanton, with a host of shaving cuts and an absolutely enormous cold-sore on his lip drop his keys for the 4th time as he attempted to lock his front door. She could have made the key snap but that might have meant a day off work and she really, really wanted him to be in work. As he finally locked the door and turned to walk away he snagged his sleeve on the handle, catapulting his lunch box across the garden and scattering the contents. As he bent to pick it up a shadow appeared overhead and the biggest seagull he had ever seen decorated the lawn, his lunch and his jacket.
Andy kicked the lunch box - growing ever more frustrated and removed his jacket, stuffing it behind a box next to his door. He stomped off, walking the ten minutes to the bus stop where he stood and watched his bus go past as if he was invisible. Now visibly furious he reached for his phone and rolling his eyes realised it was in the jacket abandoned by his front door. Eve wondered if she should be getting so much pleasure from this but it didn't take long to recall the reason she was doing it in the first place.
Slowly tailing him she watched him stomp back home for the jacket to recover the phone and dial a taxi. He seethed as he jumped in to the most foul smelling taxi that existed and listened to the driver who just would not shut up. On arrival he reached out to pay the driver and dropped the coins down the gap in the seats. After searching for a few minutes he gave up and handed a note to the driver. Banging his head as he jumped out, he slammed the door on his own finger and she swore she saw a tear trickle down his red puffy cheek.
Eve went to grab a coffee from the cafe of the train station where Andy worked as a cleaner. She knew he would be kept busy as all of the other cleaning staff had called in sick and the national head of facilities had decided on a last minute trip. There was also a whole carriage of school children en-route who were about to develop a sudden sickness in the main hall. Somebody had forgot to order bin-bags and the only working water tap for maintenance was up a flight of stairs on the other side of the building. She sat back and watched for the next two hours as Andy slowly continued to unravel. Every now and again she would dial it up a notch or two. She could see the discomfort in his face at the erection he had been hiding for an hour, the chafing on his thighs, the blisters on his heels and the fact that his breath smelled like a dead animal.
Other members of staff were starting to point and whisper by now and she knew it was time for the final act. As he stood on platform 4b a train pulled in. It was like a well rehearsed ballet. The visiting manager started towards the platform just as a small boy dropped a bag of popcorn at the door of the train. Andy rushed over to address the mess, as he walked under a sign the chain suddenly failed and he raised both hands to protect his head. Simultaneously the belt on the large trousers he had donned to help with the chafing popped open revealing his mediocre erection to a stunned manager. As he made eye contact with her the erection quickly deflated and he was then left to cover himself with the sign he had in his hands.
At this point a lady who was disembarking through the commotion made a beeline for Andy, whipping off her long coat and covering his modesty while he fixed himself. Very red-faced and lost for words he looked over the top of the coat and realised he recognised that face... he just couldn't recall where from. As he nodded to signify he had returned his trousers to their correct position around his waist she withdrew the coat revealing herself to be in a bikini.
"Don't mind me - I'm a model we're doing a shoot round the corner. Are you okay? Looks like you're having a hell of a day!" | The stench of artificial butter, and the invisible layer of dust that hung in the air, made their official meeting in my nostrils. I let out a cough as I finished pushing open the heavy movie-theater door. The place was old, but I loved it.
No other theater in town played the latest indie films. All the big chains drew in crowds for Godzilla and Spider-Man. The only thing this place drew towards it was cobwebs and old guys who jerk-off in the back of the empty auditoriums. You know how it is. Young filmmakers love exploring sexuality, and old guys love looking at these artistic expressions of life and being human and coating them in their own potential little humans.
It wasn’t enough to deter me from this place. Movies are the most beautiful form of artistic freedom, and the good stuff was always here.
My internal monologue was rudely interrupted by a woman yelling over at the snack area. She was complaining about the prices.
“$6.00 for a bag of M&M’s! I could just go to the gas station right across the street!”
The guy working responded calmly, “Yes ma’am, you could, but then there might not be a movie theater here anymore for you to complain about.”
It wasn’t a smart tactic to respond that way. She got louder. I got more irritated. I tried to talk myself out of interfering, but my good mood was starting to sour. I couldn’t stand people who complained so much. I walked up to the snack bar, and coughed again. Not a real cough like the last one. This one projected a few small words towards the woman.
Her yelling got a little quieter, and quieter, until she took a large gulp of air, and breathed out. She was winded. A small curse. I could only do small curses, but they can be more of a hinderance than you think.
I made her realize she was breathing. Just a small thing. Instead of her mind subconsciously sucking down oxygen for her, she became aware of it. Every swig of life was deliberate. It would only last a few minutes, but it would make her shut up and focus on something else. She rummaged through her purse and payed the man for her candy. As evil as that was, I felt great. As simple and powerless as such a gift seemed, sometimes, I felt special.
I approached the harbinger of snacks and placed an order for a large popcorn with light butter.
“Sure thing, sir.”
Everything was looking up again. I was excited to see my movie. I thought about theories and possible directions it’s story could go as the guy scooped my popcorn into a paper bag. He carried it over to the butter dispenser, and pressed down. Not lightly. It was like someone promised him a large sum of money if he pressed down on that nozzle as hard and continuously as he could. Sunuvabitch.
My popcorn had become a mere vessel for liquid shit. My face said everything as the man presented the popcorn to me. Some gears turned, and he remembered, “Oh, I’m so sorry, I forgot to do light butter...”
He didn’t offer to fix it. He just, set it down in front of me. I payed for it, and walked away, clutching it in my hands. Greasy liquid artificial goo soaked through the bag, and onto my hands. Suddenly, I felt a little less special. | 2019-08-05T07:00:16 | 2019-08-05T06:11:24 | 43 | 19 |
[WP] Two serial killers end up on a blind date together and both keep trying to find an oppurtunity to kill the other. | Improvisation was an art.
I mean, don’t get me wrong, there’s a certain charm to stalking the prey, observing their habits, memorizing their routine, and of course the, ah, *execution.* The climax. I gave an involuntary shudder of pleasure as I put on my formal shirt.
But it got boring.
Anyone really could do that, set a trap, and execute. Honestly, you had all the time in the world, to plan, to kill. But improv…now there was a challenge. There was a time limit, I obviously wouldn’t meet the bogey again. There were variables, only variables. Hell, I didn’t know the names of the people I was going to meet, much less their address.
Still, I hummed *Let’s Kill Tonight* as I combed my hair one final time. I looked sharp, cream colored dress shirt, ebony pants, and styled dark hair. Gotta be dressed for the job, of course.
***
“How might I help you, sir?”
I eyed the guy behind the desk. Short hair, dark eyes. Just out of high-school most likely. His smile was a little too wide, and one hand was hidden from view – he was probably on his phone, texting someone right now.
I smiled back at him, and leaned in for a conspiratorial whisper. “Got a blind date,” I told him, “table forty two,” and I winked.
The guy’s smile became genuine. “Damn,” he said, “you really risk that stuff? I’ve heard some crazy stories. You find some real whackos on there.”
Oh you had no idea. “Oh, you know,” I said, naturally adopting his way of speaking, “you gotta take some risks. Millions of people out there – what are the odds you find a serial killer, yeah?”
He grinned back at me, and said “Three rows down, table by the window. Good luck, mate.” He offered me his fists and I rapped my own against his. No idea why I did that, really. I had no plans to kill him. I don’t cheat on my victims – I only work one at a time, but still, I guess it was just habit now.
I followed the directions the guy had given me, and found my date already waiting on the table. She was beautiful – just as I’d expected. Her responses were textbook classic insecure type, I’d expected her to be young, maybe blond, with a girl next door kind of look.
It was scary how accurate I was. Blond hair, blue eyes, young, cute face. Hell, she was even shifting in her seat. Damn I was good.
She saw me and her eyes widened. She got up, hit her knee on the edge of the table, and her face went bright red.
“Oh, I’m sorry, I’m so clumsy,” she said looking down at her feet.
Time to play my part.
“Oh, no, don’t be sorry, I swear the world purposely throws things in my way to trip me up,” I said with a smile. Projecting confidence and empathy, I didn't want to scare her off with cockiness. “I’m James, by the way,” I said offering her my hand.
“Ashley,” she said, smiling so that her dimples showed.
***
The whole night was too easy really. It took me a few quips, jokes, drinks and a bit of prodding to break her out of her shell. She was twined around my finger by the end of dinner. So much so that she asked me to come home over the night. She was already dead, I 'd poisoned her food, she just didn't know it yet. But it was a waste to let all this build up go to waste. Talk about Anti-climactic.
It was a bit disappointing really, I was expecting a bit of a challenge.
And so we barged through the door of her apartment, and she couldn’t keep her hands off me. Her lips were smashed into mine, and we were rolling along the walls, sometimes I was pinned and other times she was pinned against the wall.
“I’ve never felt like this about anyone before,” she said, he blue eyes staring into mine.
We were in the kitchen now, her lights were off. The *kitchen* for God’s sake, like come on, she was just handing herself to me.
“Like what?” I asked, groping around in the dark one hand against her, and the other searching the counter for a blade.
“Almost like a connection, you know,” she said, “…that you were made for me?”
My hand closed around a handle, and I felt the unmistakable shape of knife.
“Me too,” and kissed her deeply. Now this was an experience. I’d never been quite this personal with any of my victims. Her last breaths would literally go out inside me. With my other hand I took the knife and stabbed her in the back, and I felt the blade sink in with no resistance.
She gave a tiny gasp, and pushed me off. Damn. I was hoping she wouldn’t do that.
She clapped her hands twice and the lights came on. Her face was flushed, her eyes sparkling. The knife was lying on the ground, not in her back. And she was laughing.
Laughing.
It all clicked at once. It had been too easy, I was an idiot to have missed it. A shy girls like that wouldn't invite me back to her place on the first date. I'd been played!
“Fuck me,” was all I managed to say, before she took a gun out of the drawer and shot me just above the heart.
I staggered back against the counter, breathing hard, my life draining out of me.
Ashley was smiling.
She picked up the knife and put her finger on the knife; the blade sunk in to the hilt. A fake.
“Bet you were thinking I was easy, eh mister charmer?” she said. “Thinking you were oh *so good.*” Her smile turned positively devilish. “Look at you now though, not as good as you thought eh?”
As I took my final breaths and looked into her eyes, I managed a smile. “You…you’re too late. The food p..poi.” I couldn’t make out the word.
“Poisoned?” she finished, “*Please.* You should pick better ones, I could tell what the poison was as soon as I ate the first morsel. I have the antidote at hand.”
“D…damn.” I managed.
“I know,” she said, “I’m good. And I plan on being the only one in this town. I don’t like poachers.”
She walked over to me, still smiling that same smile. The smile I often wore.
“Good night, James.”
I was impressed right until she shot me in the head.
***
(minor edits)
If you enjoyed, check out [XcessiveWriting](https://www.reddit.com/r/XcessiveWriting/) | ((Sorry for spelling and grammar errors, I wrote this from my iPad))
Abigail wrapped her arms around the bicep of her new tinder date, resting her head on his shoulder as they walked the waterfront. The sun creep behind the horizon, letting way to moonlight gently reflecting off the subtle waves of the sound. "I had such an incredible time tonight Dusty.. Dinner was excellent, I hadn't tried crab in that manner before." She giggled lightly, "Those last few drinks really hit, do you mind if we sit down somewhere for a moment?" Abigail cockily smiled, she hardly drank a drop but playing drunk would get her what she wanted.
Dusty cracked a half grin and found a spot that opened to small pebble beach front, pulling his arm up to create a hook on which he could lead the petite woman to the quiet spot on the already desolate beach. Watching as Abigail ran ahead, his eyes roamed her body. Hips that smoothed into a cinched waist and a subtle bubble butt from working out, her raven hair nearly reaching it. When she flipped around at a spot she found, her breasts glistened in moonlight, leaving Dusty to feel very aroused.
Smiling at the talk drink of water working his way over to her, Abby smiled brightly for she found the absolute perfect spot. Their was a large log blocking most of their view from the waterfront, and the gravel was soft here with most of the rocks being kicked off by pedestrians who walked the front earlier in the day. "You are so beautiful.." Dusty stated, his hand gently brushing strands of hair behind Abby's ear. He draped his jacket around her shoulders, and invited her to sit on his lap to enjoy the view.
Abby watched the waves crash against the pier as a small beacon of light off in the far waters glowed ever so lightly. She had her right where she wanted him, and she could feel the hardness of his lust beneath her. "Is that.. all for me?" She asked in an innocent voice. "Of course.. only if you'd have it." Dusty rubbed her back softly, pushing his palms into the muscles around her tiny shoulders. Flipping her tight body around, Abby lay on top of Dusty to share a moments passionate kiss. He grabbed the back of her neck a little roughly, and flipped her on her back. The kissing didn't stop as Dusty got more aggressive, his hand wrapping around her throats and his shoved his tongue into her mouth. Abby whined in pleasure, as Dusty slid a hand into his pocket. "Look me in the eyes baby and tell me you want this.. cry my name." He ordered Abby, who respectfully repeated.
Sliding a pocket knife, he flipped it open, using a finger to keep the sound from alarming his date. He shanked deeply into Abby's hip waiting to feel the thrill, something wasn't right though he felt immense pain. This enraged him as he looked down to see a knife resting in his own hip. Abby bursts out laughing, slipping out from under Dusty and standing near him. "You son of a bitch, you stabbed me." She yelped, pulling the knife from her hip. Dusty yanked the knife from his own hip, angrily jumping to his feet and taking a swipe at Abby. She jumped back, her feet now in the water ever so slightly. "Come now darling, you'll have to be quicker than that." She laughed, antagonizing him even more. Dusty bull rushed her, knocking her to the ground again, he straddled her lap. Quickly he placed his hands on her head and shoved it underwater. He whined in a sick pleasure as she struggled under his weight just to breathe as water filled her lungs. Abby grabbed some sand, and shoved it into his eyes. Quickly regaining her breath as he yelled and struggled to scratch the sand out from his eyes. She darted off towards under the pier, where it was extra dark.
By now, the pair had lost a decent amount of blood from their wounds which reopened every time they twisted and turned around the posts that held the pier above up. Dusty was getting rather impatient not able to get his kill, as Abby enjoyed the thrill of the game. He angrily stumbled around, starting to feel weak, yet equally as angry as Abby hid from him. As he rounded a corner, he was met with a knife into his stomach, he quickly shoved his into hers. The two held onto each other and fell to the ground on their knees. They gazed into each other's eyes, and shared a sinister smile. "You know dusty, I've never met a man like you.." "As I you.." Their lips met as sand and blood mixed with saliva before they collapsed in a pol of their own blood. | 2017-10-27T07:19:09 | 2017-10-27T06:36:25 | 514 | 25 |
[WP] As a devout Christian you were devastated when the rapture came and you were one of the ones left behind, but you settled on that he just forgot. Now there are beasts bowing to you and one says “how may we serve you Master” you realize they think you’re the anti-Christ. | "How may we serve you master?" The beast knelt before me.
I gazed around the ruined street. Demons, beasts, hellspawns, and mother-in-laws all surrounded me. They all knelt one by one, saluting my name and vowing their life to me.
"What's going on here?" I asked.
"I'm Goloktonokatilikao, call me Gol for short. I'm senior advisor to the anti-christ. Which is what you are... if it isn't clear already."
"Anti-christ?" I scratched my head and gazed at the crucifix that gleamed around my neck. "I'm a devout christian, no way I'd be the anti-christ."
"But God has already chosen his people," Gol said. "Not only did you not make the cut, but you were also born the anti-christ - which is probably why he didn't pick you now that I think about it."
I know I didn't make the cut for the rapture. I dont know why, I followed the faith strictly and always repented. I assumed I was probably going to be a second round pick or something, but each passing day killed my faith. Especially when you got terrible creatures like demons and mother-in-laws lurking around.
"So, if I'm anti-christ," I humored the thought. "What's my job?"
"To unite the remainder if the world and lead them to paradise."
"Heaven?"
Gol purged air from his nose and shook his head. "No, hell. You'd be surprised how awesome hell is. Sure it's a little hot, but the food is delicious. And hell's mall is the biggest mall ever. It's four floors tall, though the elevators are always broken down. It is hell after all, there has to be some inconvenience."
"An inconvenience in hell is an out of order elevator?"
"Yeah," Gol said, rubbing his neck. "That and sometimes deliveries run late by a day or two. Oh, and sometimes when you get your food, its warm not hot."
"That sounds like earth."
"Well, the saying hell on earth wasn't spewed for no reason. Come, let's walk. We have a lot of ground to cover, and you as the anti-christ have a lot on your plate."
I followed Gol and scratched my head. "This is all... odd. Shouldn't you foul creatures be eating humans, snatching the women, taking the children, and mutilating the men?"
Gol peered at me as if I were crazy. "Devil no. You humans have a huge misconception as to what hell is. It's honestly not that bad. Heaven is what sucks. Theres a million rules, and only the top tier of worshipers get access to the private resort and five star restaurant."
I wanted to question everything I stood and lived for, but knew my writer was getting sleepy and needed to go to bed. So I conformed to his loose plot and said, "so why the hell are we taught that hell is the worst place on earth? Where the eternally damned go."
"History is written by the victor." Gol wagged his finger and escorted me through some debri and rubble. "Here's your home."
He pointed to a large mansion. It was the most beautiful building I'd ever seen.
"Home?" I stared at Gol.
"Yup," Gol led me through the beautiful lawn. 'The anti-christ lives here. In this home you'll coordinate worldwide peace. Then once we have the masses ready, we will all go and live forever in hell."
I was still taken aback by the prestige of the mansion before me. I could have prolonged the conversation with Gol longer, but knew I had made my choice. I'm going to take this anti-christ job and run with it. Then I'm gonna go to hell and visit their awesome mall with out of order elevators.
"Alright Gol," this time I led the way. "Gather all the demons and spread my word of peace to the remaining humans. Ask the beasts to clean up all debri and rubble from all the fallen cities. Use the hellspawns to dispatch of any defectors or souls who still praise God. And for the mother-in-laws-" I winced just thinking about how cruel they could be "-send them to sell essential oils to heaven. That'll teach em for not picking me."
"Yes master."
"I wanna be in hell by age sixty, Gol." I took a seat on the front porch. "You, hellspawn over there, fetch me some lemonade."
"Yes, my master. Do you demand my soul as well? Or perhaps a deep tissue chakra massage?" The hellspawn said.
"Yes to the latter, no to the former."
I kicked my feet out and leaned back.
Being the anti-christ wasn't too bad.
r/ajhwriting | After the rapture had struck, and his subsequent exclusion from paradise, Ned figured that it could only be a mistake. He knew others far worse than him that had been granted passage to Heaven, some who were Christians only by name, and he figured that God must simply have forgot. There were an awful lot of people, after all.
And yet, after the apparent confusion of the demons, he had been given time to ponder his plight. Surely God, the omniscient being that he is, is incapable of being wrong? And that left only two options - either God had purposefully left him here to be tortured for eternity, or He truly was fallible. Neither thought comforted him, and while he was initially relieved just to not be tormented by the beasts and demons, he was beginning to think that perhaps he could use it to his advantage.
He wasn't the Antichrist, of that he was sure - but in the end, what difference did it make? All beasts and demons served under him, and he had power over them all. They would do his bidding, and that left him with an option that none had before him. One that after much deliberation, he had made peace with.
He was going to kill God.
The thought seemed blasphemous at first, but soon became realized in a fashion that now seemed obvious. Despite his devout religious existence, God had forsaken him all the same - and either it was intentional or a mistake, the consequences of which made revenge the only valid choice in either case. If God had purposefully left him here to die, saving other souls far less deserving than he, then that would make God omniscient, but evil - and if it had been a mistake, then that God was not worthy of being the ruler of Heaven at all.
He did not care about the other forsaken souls, left on earth to rot in despair. Ned felt no companionship in them, as they were weak and all deserved their fate. Still, he wasted no time setting his beasts on them, as he instead focused the efforts of his newfound compatriots upwards, towards the Heavens that had abandoned him.
Thus he set about his sordid plan, uniting the demonic forces in revelation, directing their intent at the God who had forsaken them all.
The rapture had come to earth - but the Heavens would have a rapture of their own, in time. | 2020-07-28T21:32:12 | 2020-07-28T21:25:25 | 52 | 28 |
[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. | The screaming began soon after. This man’s head was just full of it. The screaming wasn’t even screams of pain or sorrow, just absent yelling. Screaming out of boredom. Somehow that was worse.
The demon thought it could get used to screaming. Hell was full of it, after all. But more sounds surfaced. Music was the worst of it. Perhaps if an entire song ever played it would have been bearable, but it was always the same two lines over and over again. Many times it was even wrong.
The imagery was just as bad. Flashing lights in one corner, a room that just constantly spun, rain falling upwards, just terrible, disorienting scenes.
But the emotions were the worst of it. Anger, depression, lack of light. It was despairing in every essence. So one day, the demon asked the man,
“Is this normal? Are all of you like this?”
The man, who had at this point been silent, answered him.
“Yeah, a lot of us. Stress, ya know?”
The demon mulled that around before asking another question?
“Why didn’t you fight me? I’ve done a lot of terrible things since I’ve controlled you. Why haven’t you stopped me?”
The human answered him in a monotone voice.
“I’ve kinda enjoyed letting someone else take the wheel for a while. Truth is, this is as close to death as I was gonna get without killing myself.”
The demon was shocked. The human was just going to kill himself if he didn’t get possessed? That’s usually where his work ended, is people either dying or killing themselves.
Then the demon thought of something that he’d been noticing. He’d seen the news of his exploits. Serial murder, robbery, the whole nine. But he was always labeled as a psychopath, or a misguided man, or even a deranged killer. But never possessed. Did that mean that humans just accepted that other humans could be so cruel?
The demon asked his final question.
“I... I don’t need to be here, do I? Humans already have this covered, don’t they?”
The human laughed at that. Dryly and loudly.
“Got it covered? Please. Where the experts now. Go google what a nuke is. Ooh, maybe try 9/11, or the Boston bombing. We’ve been taking care of torturing each other for a while. We don’t need demons to do that for us.”
They don’t need demons? That couldn’t be right. There’s no way that humans were hurting each other more than the malicious souls of hell.
So the demon began his research. The human grudgingly lead him around this ‘google’. The demon started with the Boston bombing, humans made explosives to kill each other in a time of celebration. Then 9/11, where humans flew a plane into another human structure, killing themselves and thousands more, all for differences in beliefs. The nuke, annihilating cities before war even started. A weapon so deadly that it was feared would set the air on fire, detonated anyways.
There was more. Mountains more. Poverty, war, racism, terrorism, mega corporations, serial killers, rapists, torturers, and much more. Humans were torturing each other in every method available to them.
It was true. Humans didn’t need demons to hurt each other. They were already so efficient in torture that they didn’t even notice when one of their own was possessed. It was just a ‘psychotic break’ caused by stress, or sometimes the person simple ‘cracked’. Like it was some kind of daily occurrence. Which, on further research, it was.
“No wonder you wanted to let me possess you. It’s awful. I’ve been to hell, born there, but this...” the demon trailed off.
“It’s worse, isn’t it?” The human asked. The demon confirmed him.
“That’s comforting, actually.” The human said. The demon reeled at this.
“HOW? How in the name of creation does that comfort you?” He asked. And the human have the answer that would break the demon’s will with the weight of reality.
“Because, up, down, or somewhere in between, at least it’ll be an improvement.” | It tore through him like wildfire. Consuming his energies as it should be. As it'd always been. Oh yes, such succulence, strength, power and what focus! The demon stopped to gloat inside of the man's mind. But instead of the abject terror, it only felt a muted attention, as if the man was studying him.
"We need to finish this faster." the man mentally spoke to him.
"Faster? .. FASTER mortal? I will feast upon your so-"
"Look, we have about five minutes. If you don't do it by then..well.. good luck, I guess you'll need it."
With renewed anger at this IMPUDENCE (It thought the words loudly to itself) that was displayed, it grasped the last bits of control and soon came to be in a small room. Lights were blinking, machines were whirring. Its new body held a shotgun, held it in a way that felt very familiar. Something wooshed by it and hit the wall behind with a small explosion and a stench of sulfur.
It turned and saw a horde of grinning teeth, red eyes and matted fur.
"WHAT IS THIS?"
"You've done your part now. You can go back if you want."
It felt the hold slip .. slipping away?! NO! It grasped harder onto the control of the body, but an iron will slowly and methodically inched it away until the man was once again in control of his own body.
"What are these things? Why are they after you?" the demon said, feeling deep dread at the answer it almost knew would come.
The man smiled a mirthless, somewhat bloodied grin and readied another shell.
"Rip and tear until it's done." he spoke, with a voice like stone. | 2020-12-21T15:38:38 | 2020-12-21T13:06:33 | 22 | 16 |
[WP]You're a human lie detector. Unfortunately, your throat closes up, and your face breaks out in the face of falsehoods. You're deathly allergic to bullshit. | Did you know humans operate like a hive mind?
No--none of that sci-fi stuff, connected like two cans bound by a thread, but more like a floating raft made by interlinked fire-ants.
When one person panics and flees, so does the rest of the crowd, when one person acts differently from the norm, it sends a shock wave that makes everyone else notice the change in a situation.
Yet that never explained why from the moment I was born, I became deathly allergic to bullshit.
But perhaps there was some truth to it--interlinked minds, a conscious river of thoughts flowing through us all as we pluck the bits and pieces, know those moments where someone is lying through their teeth as if it were a sixth sense that told us the difference. I certainly became the enigma which made it all far more than just a theory.
Stories say that the very moment I was born, I experienced my first lie. "It's a beautiful baby boy." The supposed horror on the doctors face as my face turned red and my throat constricted so tight I couldn't even cry.
Hell, of course it's a lie, most babies come into the world covered in shit and sweat and fluids of all kind, no way they are beautiful.
How strange evolution came to be, creating a gene which identified the harm which came from lies, how truth always lead to solutions.
Now twenty years old and sitting in my blank cell. It's peaceful here, just the hum of the vents lulling me into a supple trance, the grey overall pulled over my still body. It was quiet, and I liked it like that.
People were always a nuisance... a risk. Loving parents, or rather parents who felt duty bound and obligated, truth is that they wanted to love me, but wished I was normal. How do I know this? Isn't it already obvious?
School was never a viable option, we tried. The first few reactions were caused by accident, by a white lie comment about me seeming interesting, or an overheard conversation between adults or other children. The later reactions were caused by those who wanted to see me hurt, how they would lie about the colour of their underwear just to see my face go purple. I didn't blame them for it, it was a fascinating thing to behold.
The cell door opens, my trance broken, most of my days pass by like a flowing sleep, yes a somber and insipid thing.
The men had their mouths covered by a mask with slits to breathe from just so I couldn't see the movement of their lips. I took the usual cue and fished the Walkman from a drawer in my small chamber, putting the ear pieces in with soft poignant acuity.
As the men led me from my chamber, no words that I can hear or read off of writhing lips, I found myself once more broken from my eternal trance, a peaceful slumber that kept me at peace. The corridor lights running past us much like the long car rides I took as a child, watching the street lights pass us by.
And there I was, brought to the new interrogation chamber, a glass box which allowed those inside to be observed like lab rats.
As I was brought inside, I took my seat on the opposite end of the glass table, the man before me in an orange jumpsuit of his own, marked by his gang tattoo and scars from other sources.
I watched as the rest of the men within who wore tailored suits put on their masks to muffle their voices, and the one labcoat wearing researcher, Dr. Haus as I recalled his name to be.
Dr Haus pushed the record button of the cassette player set on the table, a mike poking out and ready; an Epi-pen sticking out of his labcoat pocket.
Dr Haus folded his hands before him, his clipboard under his arm. "Now, why don't you tell us everything again, all the way from the start."
\*\*\*
/r/KikiWrites | [Poem]
"I can't take this no more!" His spouse said in a fit
"How can I live with no lies?
I don't care if it hurts, in my stomach's a pit,
I know if I lie you may die,
Then call it a murder, my words must be heard,
The truth will not be sung,
I stand twenty feet tall, and I speak in bird,
I can improvise on the snare drum,
I swim with some camel's, and I fly to the moon,
I eat only chocolate cake,
My mother and father were raised by baboons,
And my grandma was born in a lake,
I cry too much and sun makes me itch,
I climbed the pyramids,
I eat my meals in an old drainage ditch,
And I have twenty six kids,
My eyebrows are made of wax and candy,
I'm from the planet Zorp,
My actual birth name is not Amy, it's Randy,
And I'm general in the Marine Corps,
There are you happy!" She said with disdain,
"I didn't want to do this to you"
Her husband had swelled and his face was in pain,
I think his throat closed shut too,
"How's that for a lie? Can you take anymore?"
His wife was laughing with glee
"It feels so good, my voice is so sore"
His eyes were shut, he couldn't see,
"The only truth, I'll say before we're done,
I'm taking off my gloves,
We had a real good marriage, here, it was kinda-sorta fun,
But sadly dear, I was not in love." | 2019-06-30T01:25:37 | 2019-06-30T00:52:42 | 175 | 20 |
[WP] You accidently discharge your firearm into the television. Much to your surprise, instead of shattering the glass, it passes right through and hits one of the characters on screen. | "Oh my God, they killed Kenny!"
In what I mistook to be a serendipitous coincidence, a small band of my favourite, minimalistically-drawn cartoon characters stared, slack-jawed and wide-eyed, in my direction through the television screen.
It had been a melancholy day. He had left in the night, having taken nothing with him. A brief, impersonal note was all I had as evidence that he hadn't been abducted from my side as we slept in our bed--*my* bed, now--the night prior.
"Emily,
By the time you read this, I'll be gone. I'm sorry I wasn't able to explain. I've sold what I can, given up my identity, and am flying to a destination that, for your own peace of mind, I'll leave unknown to you. Do whatever you want with what's left. I know it hurts now, but I'm not worth your pain. This life was never real to me.
What we had was never real to me.
I hope you forget it all soon enough.
Yours formerly, Lyle."
And so I sat there, weighing the pistol he once insisted was "essential protection" in my palm, and wondered why, if he had hated the life we had built together so much, he hadn't used this "essential" pistol to end it all. I contemplated why he had to start over without me, where he could have gone, and I realized just how little I knew him. Moreover, I contemplated why he had left that pistol so readily in my grasp rather than keep it or sell it as he had done with his motorcycle. Would he not need protection where he was going? Was he too afraid to sell the illegal firearm on our Canadian streets, even though he had expressed no qualms about purchasing it from the same source?
These questions had plagued and distracted me. In that state of mindful absenteeism, I somehow managed to fire the damn thing. I hadn't expected him to have stored it loaded! How irresponsible of him! How irresponsible of me!
Were we truly so different? Why couldn't he have told me?
In the depths of my sorrow and panic (for the police would arrive shortly, without a doubt!) the fact that my mistake had so perfectly coincided with the common gag of my favourite program was rather hilarious. For a split second, I even allowed myself to enjoy a much-needed laugh. It soon ended when the realization struck me.
My television set was completely intact. There had been no sound, save that of the discharge itself. It was as if the bullet had disintegrated! Or perhaps...
*No, that's impossible!*
"YOU BASTARD!" The simply animated finger of the character I had known for many years as "Kyle" was pointing directly at me. The frame of that scene lasted for an uncomfortable length of time. Why wasn't the plot progressing? I hadn't actually *seen* what had hit the orange-clad head of Kenny, but I assumed that the shock of accidentally squeezing the trigger had merely deviated my attention from the screen.
*I couldn't ha--*
"What the hell, bitch! You're just gonna kill our friend and then sit there like nothing happened?!"
Eric Cartman's fat face was angled directly at mine as I blinked, dumbfounded, on my sofa. Still, I did nothing. I was adamantly waiting for the camera perspective to change and for some new character to be unveiled so that this would all make sense.
That never happened.
The tangerine blot of Kenny on my screen simply became surrounded by more and more red as the faces of his eight year-old posse contorted in outrage.
"EY!" Cartman yelled again. "Are you retarded or something?!"
"I--me?--I mean I do have cerebral palsy so maybe I had a muscle spasm and accidentally--" I stammered before realizing what I truly should have been asking, "Wait a second! How is this even happening?!"
"You guys, I think '*cerebral* palsy' means something's wrong with her brain! We gotta get help from that new police officer guy before she gets all mentally unstable and kills again!"
All too eager to accept Stan's hypothesis, the boys ran screaming. They only grew more terrified as the camera followed them, making it impossible for them to escape my passive observation on the couch.
"Holy crap! She's some kind of mentally unstable ALIEN!" Stan elaborated on his theory.
"I AM NOT MENTALLY UNSTA--"
"Hey, hey, what is this all ah-boot, boys? I was trying to enjoy my Kraft Dinner!" An egg-headed, cartoon man in uniform toddled onto the screen in place of those I would have expected such as Officer Barbrady or Sergeant Yates.
I was completely confused, hands shaking with rage and head spinning, but upon closer inspection, it only grew worse.
"LYLE?!" | Drunkenly I sit in my dark apartment waiving my pistol around pretending to be the hero in some action movie.
I begin to channel surf, and all that is on is news and pawn stars. So I hit a random number on my remote and it lands on Nancy Grace.
I watch for a minute as she yells and grunts furiously at a gentlemen who is there presenting something. I watch as she slowly begins to morph into an alpha male gorilla at the zoo.
As she is rambling and furiously grunting false statements I slowly take my pistol and aim it at the television. "One day Nancy.." I mutter in a scowl.
I take aim and pull the trigger thinking my gun is unloaded but instead of a silent click it makes a loud boom. I scream like a little girl drunk on cake at a neighbors pool party.
I divert my attention to my TV.. which isn't broken.. and notice brain matter all over the camera of the news station. Then I see it, her head is completely mutilated from the shot, her bitchy nose and ugly scowl now stricken from my TV.
I am now in shock, drunk and stupefied trying to convince myself it didn't happen. Then I here it, it's faint at first but it starts growing. This relentless rumbling noise coming from outside of my house. It's louder now, almost deafening, so I stumble to my door and fling it open in a drunken stupor. Low and behold, a parade.
Thousands of people; poor, rich, black, white, children, elders etc etc... all of them singing the same song while a marching band leads them. So I lean in and take a listen, "Ding dong the bitch is dead, that dreadful bitch with the bleach blond head, ding dong the wicked bitch is dead!"
Joy over comes my body, the feeling of pure bliss comes over me and I join the parade. We march for milea and miles, tens of thousands of people, the radio is saying it's happening around the world now, millions and billions of people all marching and singing.
I'm in my 80's now and that happened almost fifty years ago today. We are a much different world now, free, full of joy. There are no more wars and famine, we don't use fossil fuels, and everything is fully recyclable. Finally mankind has peace on earth, finally we have become the dream mankind had always hoped to be.
| 2016-09-07T10:40:27 | 2016-09-07T09:55:01 | 107 | 50 |
[WP] For decades Earth's population has been strictly controlled. Every time there is a new birth, the oldest person in society is asked if they are willing to be killed so that the baby may live. You are the first person to say "no". | I knew I was getting up there. I knew it the day I saw a single, silver strand shining through the black forest that was my hair. Honestly, it looked pretty awesome. But despite the glisten I was almost entranced by, I knew what it meant.
Nobody knows when the government instituted this new policy. Nobody remembers. Because, well, anyone who would remember has long since been gone. "By choice" they say. By choice my ass. My *ass*. Only rumors tell us what goes on. Given a picture? Maybe even a live feed of a newborn, with a knife at the ready? Maybe something more humane; lethal injection, or something? All we, and all I knew was, there had to be *something* they were doing to guilt us old bastards into going under the knife. For the sake of one life? Humanity? Existence itself? There was some unknown knowledge that was revealed, some ideal that was on display once...on the inside.
The message came. A knock at the door. No one to answer but me, for myself. No one to cry for me. No friends to hug goodbye, or tears to wipe away from a wife wishing I were a little bit younger, or even kisses from a dog I held dearly. It was always... just me. Not that I ever cared. Not that the knock cared, or the person behind the knock cared, or the people behind that person cared; about a life, lived or not lived to its fullest. All they cared about was that you were next, a needed sacrifice for a new life to be able to start.
Typical. A suit, no personality, no taste in cars. Black on black on black. The epitome of government. Not that I was any different, having no noticeable personality decisions in my clothing, hair, etc. Didn't mean I wasn't an individual though. I guess it meant the same for him. I can only guess, though.
A smooth car ride. No music. No talking. At some point, I stopped being able to see through the windows. It was at this point I felt my heart start...bumping. It wasn't a racing, or a beating, or an anxious feeling. It was as if we were driving on rocky roads, and every second or so the tire hit a pothole that only my heart would feel. An aura of the unknown, the unfamiliar, filled the air, and continued to break into my mind and body.
And then we stopped. The door opened. Nobody was there to open the door, or escort me anywhere. It was just...darkness. Blackness, in every direction, as far as I could...not see. Until, of course, a path of lights lit the way. A singular path, with a singular destination; a door. Somehow the light was contained illumination, as if there really was *nothing* beyond the path. It was as if all around was a purgatorial void, except of black instead of the typical white.
So I followed the path. The lights didn't go far until they reached the stairs, and then the stairs the door. I put my hand to where the knob should be, but there was none. I looked back to see if I could make out anything in the distance, but not even the car was there anymore. The lights had gone out, all around me, and it was just the door and I.
Or so I thought. Turning back around, the door was gone. I was alone, in the darkness. Alone. Like always. And it didn't phase me at all. Alone.
Then, a light, in the distance. Approaching, closer, and closer. It rivaled the darkness, blinding as it was, unbearably so. And a voice, an unfamiliar, soothing voice.
"Are you ready?"
It was teetering the line between comforting and demanding, pushing me to an answer I had decided I would *not* conform to. This was *my* life, and it wasn't worth sacrificing for *anyone*. Again, it echoed.
"Are you ready?"
It was almost panicked at this point, waiting for my confirmation. But there was only one answer I was ready to give.
"No."
I was blunt and monotone, and knew it wasn't something they'd heard before. I saw what looked like silhouettes of large hands, almost ethereal, passing through the light, coming toward me.
"No!" I shouted into the lightened abyss, as the hands approached and then abruptly stopped before reaching me.
"No?" the voice echoed. "No?! No it is." It's soothing tone had dropped to something that sounded like haughtiness, as if I could feel the voice smiling, grinning at me, as if letting me no I made the *wrong* choice. Ha, screw that. I had a life to live. I wasn't going to be some *sacrifice* for *their* agenda, whatever the hell it was.
The light became darkness in an instant. The world felt as though it started spinning, too fast for my mind or body to comprehend. And I can only assume that I blacked out.
I awoke in my bed. Nothing was different. Not a hair on my head was touched, including the silver lining. It's not like there were reports of this happening. One day a person was, and the next day a person wasn't. Babies were born without news of someone going missing. It was just...accepted, that babies were born and people were gone. No one ever questioned it.
"No?" I kept thinking back to the voice, the light, the way they spoke. Was I missing something? Where was the coercion? The threats? The terrible tactics that I'd heard *some* of my neighbors gossip about as I excluded myself from the conversation? Where was the plea to my humanity, or the tugging at my heart strings to save a life?
Nothing. Nothing at all. I didn't feel guilty, or sick from the whole ordeal, or...anything, really. I just felt...empty. Then, a knock at my door. Answering, it was one of my neighbor's teenage children, whose name I didn't know. I admit I knew nothing about them, or him, or anyone around me really. It was who I was. But he just stood there, looked at me, smiled quickly, and handed me an envelope. After I took it from him, he turned toward his bike, and muttered softly, but loud enough for me to hear it.
"Enjoy the rest of your life, man." With that, he ran to his bike and caught up to a bunch of kids his age that were waiting ahead of him, laughing and ribbing him for even coming up to my house; or so, I assumed. What the hell was that?
The envelope wasn't particularly special looking, but it was what seemed like an official brand of some kind. Opening it, a single folded note was inside. As I unfolded it, the breeze snatched the envelope from my hand, but I couldn't be bothered to watch where it went. Not with these words staring at me.
"Enjoy mortality."
...What the hell? | I stared at the floor like a bottomless abyss. Life had always felt so empty. Abused by those I love, in turn abusing the gifts I was given. I couldn't help it. They couldn't help it. We were addicts.
Mom thought it was funny when I was young. She laughed and said I was born an addict. She didn't care that the hospital detoxed me. She didn't care about the therapies and treatments. I could feel her evil through the needle the first time she injected me. I was right back to it.
Someone died for me I thought. Someone made the ultimate sacrifice to get me into this world. It was up to me to end this cycle. I focused. I worked out. I studied. I did everything I should to build an exceptional life. I was still dulling the pain, but just the pain of my memories.
I didn't shoot up because I wanted to I only did it because I needed to. When my daughter was born and another person gave their life, I knew I was on the right track. Another gift was given to me. There was more proof that life was meant to keep going.
This cycle could stop right here with me. She was born clean and sober. I put her in all the right schools. I was there for her. We were best friends. I supported her through everything. She would never know the pain of my childhood, and she never did.
That's all it should take right.? Loving parents? A stable home? Good friends? She has it all. Well, she had it all, until a slip and fall last winter in the parking lot at work. The pain killers were free from work comp and they helped her rush back to work. Once she was back to work though, work comp wouldn't cover the pills.
Today though, none of that matters. Today I'm standing over my daughters lifeless body. A myriad of tubes running through her, ventilators wheezing, and the steady beep drown out by the ringing in my ears.
It feels like I'm floating. My feet aren't on the hospital linoleum. My knuckles aren't white from squeezing the bed rail. The wetness rolling off my cheeks drops into the pool of emotions I'm swimming in as the nurse touches my shoulder.
"It's ok," she says, "My husband didn't think his time would come this soon either. They let me watch when he was put out. He didn't feel anything. You won't either." As if the pain of death was any concern after the hell my life had been.
It was time for another chance at life. Not my chance, but someone else's. You see I don't know what it's like where you're from, but where I'm from, we almost ran out. Room, food, money, help, you name it, we were running out of it. The government was taxing at 95% just to keep us sustained. Until "Brilliant" president DJ signed in the "New Life" bill. It was working, through accidents and sickness our numbers were dropping. However, until they were able to get taxes back under 50%, in order for a child to be born, the oldest had to die.
"It's still his decision." the doctor chimed in "Your daughter is going to pull through. Her friends caught the overdose soon enough. She will spend some time in a coma. So, you won't get to see her before you go."
"no" I uttered, like a mouse standing before an tiger.
"No, you won't be able to say goodbye. However, she will certainly know what your sacrifice meant."
Shaking my head. My resolve grew stronger, "No."
"Your not alone, a lot of people get scared at this time..." the doctor attempted to continue.
"NO! I won't do it." I commanded.
The nurse recoiled from me like a viper had slithered out from my shirt. I watched as the blood rushed into the doctor's angry face.
"This is LIFE!" he shouted. "You're worth nothing more to this world. You can leave behind this drug addled mess you've created."
"I DIDN'T CHOOSE THIS LIFE! IT CHOSE ME!" I shouted. Enraged at his presumption I continued, "Have you ever considered that?! Nobody asked if I wanted to live! I gave my daughter everything in the world and it still didn't matter."
"It shouldn't be his choice," the nurse interjected "He's too close."
"Exactly!" I prompted her. "I don't know how this cosmic stream of events happened. For fuck sake, she's laying in a hospital bed overdosed from the same shit that ruined her grandmothers life, and ruined my childhood. You think she's going to somehow magically get a kid away from all this."
"She won't have a choice. Social services will take the child before she even knows it's born," pleaded the doctor "but the child must be born now. If not now your daughters body will fail. She's hanging by a thread. If your grandchild is born now he might survive now as a preemie."
"No. That's it. It's final. I'll give my life for someone else's child, but I won't keep this family going as long as I have a say. Our cycle ends right here." | 2018-10-03T13:46:12 | 2018-10-03T13:42:16 | 34 | 14 |
[WP] The day after posting a story in this subreddit you awaken to find yourself in a small room, seated at a small table across from a man in a black suit. The man slides a printout of your story in front of you and asks, "Where did you obtain so much classified information?" | "Who the fuck are you?" I blurted out
"Agent K" he said.
"Well Agent K, I wouldn't consider it classified. Its called Reddit. Its quite obvious that cats have been using this website as a way to communicate with the aliens for all these years" I said.
"Go on" Agent K replied.
I began my explanation "Look, I had my suspicions all along. I mean, why so many fucking cats on one website. What was the appeal?
I realized all this today when another Redditor posted a WP about how an Alien race established contact with cats and ignores the humans.
(http://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/2raxa9/wp_an_alien_race_lands_on_earth_and_establishes/)
As I read and commented on that post it dawned on me.
Combine that with all the smug immature comments everywhere on Reddit? At first I though the comments were from teenagers or hipsters, just being the shitty kids and people that we all once were when we were younger but then I realized it was something different. It was actually a race of Aliens, responding to the posts. English was new to them and as it is with other races, the incomplete grasp on the nuances of the language make their legitimate questions and comments appear as curt, smug and immature. But they really aren't.
The cats have been using the humans all along. They are actually quite social and loving animals, however they realized that if they played hard to get, its human nature to seek what they could not have. They realized that instead of the outright obvious affection that dogs give, they could turn it around and get the humans to do their bidding in a much less obvious way.
And so it began, the cats began to distance themselves from the humans. The humans became intrigued. The cats even had one of their kids picture put on a poster with the encouraging words "hang in there" to lure them in further. It worked. The humans were all egotistical by nature and when ignored, they only became more curious. So the humans started taking a lot of pictures of their cats and posting them on Reddit. The cats knew that this was their answer to world domination. They knew that if they were able to communicate using paw positioning and facial expressions then the aliens would respond and eventually come help them take over the planet.
They also figured out that they would get more attention and could send more messages if they squeezed themselves into small containers. This was an accidental discovery, but for some reason the humans took more pictures of them and they were able to communicate with the Aliens more.
I mean, this is the ONLY explanation for their being so many pictures of cats on Reddit.
But what I dont understand Agent K, is why the Aliens are communicating with cats. Why just cats? And what are they doing or planning? Any how long have cats been smarter than us? And why have they allowed us to act as the more intelligent species for so many years?"
Agent K sighed. "Kid, I really don't have time to get into the specifics but I'll give you a quick rundown. My name really isn't Agent K and I'm not from a government organization. My name is Michael Lynton and I'm the president of Sony Pictures. Before I explain what is happening and why you are actually correct in all of your assumptions I want to know how in the fuck you got a copy of the script from Men in Black 4?"
| The man in black stared at me from the other side of the table. I had to squint to look at the documents he handed me due to the bright light. Suddenly, I recognized it. It was a post I made on /r/youdontsurf which had a joke about Harold, the subreddit's mascot, being a secret agent.
"Look, sir, this is just a comic I made a while ago. Why was I brought here? Is Harold actually a secret agent?"
The man held my lips together.
"We may be somewhere deep within a desert, but you can never be too sure about the spies."
He let his hand go, and looked around. He then turned to me and stared for a while, until he started lifting a flap at the bottom of his face. White, short beard... folds... frowned eyes...
Suddenly, I woke up sweating in my bed. I could clearly remember the events in my head, but... was it a nightmare?
As I went to Reddit to check my post, it was gone. | 2015-01-04T10:57:30 | 2015-01-04T10:46:04 | 46 | 12 |
[WP] The children were nestled away safe in their beds. You’ve hung their stockings over the fire place. A tree has been set up in a place of prominence. “For the children” you whisper as you place the offering of milk and cookies and began the Santa summing incantation | A fat white dude in his underwear (red) stands in front of you with sleep sticky eyes.
Yawning “I asked you last year to keep in mind time zones. This is just rude. I get the whole kids things and don’t mind coming, but could you not call me In the middle of the night? It’s a long day tomorrow “.
Janet grimaced. She’d been successful at summoning Santa over the last three years, and she did remember the time difference. But how else was she going to get the timing right for her kids.
A quick glance at the clock and at the fat man eating the second cookie, she realized she was going to have to hurry if she was going to get any gifts from him. Once the cookies were gone, that was it.
“At least your baking has gotten better... real butter this time!”
She sighed. She’d been baking constantly this year because of Covid, so the cookies damn well better be good. Sadly apparently he eats faster with tasty cookies. But at least he has calmed down. She sighed and collected herself for phase 2.
“Santa I’ve been a good girl, can I sit on your knee?”
He stopped chewing and raised an eyebrow “you really want to do it this way? You don’t have to bind me. I’ll give your kids exactly what they asked for.”
Janet shuddered silently as she thought of her sons letter to Santa. Santa’s offer was more of a threat than an offer of good will. The kid asked for a freaking monkey.
She shook her head.
Samar’s sighed. Long. Put down half the remaining cookie. “Fine. Come sit on my knee.”
“Have you been a good girl this year”.
“Yes Santa”.
“Made your bed everyday, and did all your chores?”
“Yes Santa”
“Hmmm, I am not sure about that... I see an entry on a Tinder date gone I wrong.”
Janet jerked up right. She’d been lulled into a state of childlike wonder by the magic aura around the fat man. Colour rose high on her cheeks as she remembered that awful date before the pandemic hit. “Uh ah I uh.”
“It’s ok, his foot healed. But maybe you shouldn’t wear heels on a date. Or take dancing lessons. Do you want dancing lessons for Christmas little girl?”
“No, no!” She paused “can I have a new home? With a bedroom for Agnes, a bedroom for Roy and a bedroom for me? With access to a park or a yard? And room for a dog and cat? It doesn’t have to be a house or a fancy place, just somewhere safe”.
It was Santa’s turn to sit up straight and look at Janet oddly. He turned his head to really look at his surroundings and realized it wasn’t the same house as last year. Tiny, barred windows at the top of the ceiling. A sink, stove and mini fridge scattered around the room. Bunk beds with two figures asleep under blankets. A neat pile of blankets stacked beside an ancient arm chair.
He looked back at her.
“I have been good. Really good. But this year has been hard.” Tears started leaking out from her eyes.
Santa’s heart melted and he pulled her close.
“Of course my child. You have been good. The wish is bound. Go to sleep.”
He lifted the sleepy woman and carefully placed her back in the chair, he covered her with her blanket and smoothed the hair away from her now sleeping face.
He sighed at the surroundings and with a snap of the fingers, the fridge was almost overflowing with Christmas feast. Goodies sat on top. Presents appeared under the tree, including a stuffed monkey. And a small box, just big enough for a key, glistening with gold wrapping paper and glowing faintly dangled from a tree limb. | \[Poem\]
The spell was a risk, but you've done this before; Tensions run high when you open the door.
"For the children," you whisper as they sleep through the night; You chant invocations you hope to get right.
"This game is roulette," you think to be sure; your intentions are true, your nature demure.
The dangers are high when the veil is most thin; there's no way to tell which beings may choose to come in.
Will you host St. Nick? Jolly, sweet, and fat? Or implore a beast: vile, loathsome, and soul of black?
You hope, for your sake, the children were good; you disciplined and lectured, you did what you could.
Out of your hands, the fates could align; or after you chant, your souls be maligned.
You finish the spell and let out a croak; for down the fireplace came but a pillar of smoke.
You leap and you jump to flee its wide spread; you knock down the tree, take a bump on the head.
You beg and you plead, "beast do not take me," The voice from the void: "I DO AS I PLEASE."
The children did wake to the sound of great clatter, they ran down the stairs, their illusions did shatter.
For there at the hearth there sat not a soul, instead of their parents: two lumps of coal.
​
r/IML_42 | 2020-12-08T13:41:52 | 2020-12-08T13:13:30 | 58 | 11 |
[WP] You are a villain who kidnapped the smart guy on your nemesis team, they tell you that nobody will come for them and that the hero doesn't care. You didn't believe them at first but it been a month and nobody shows up and after once again hearing them cry at night you had enough | It wasn't often that my interactions with the Galaxy Guardian's got emotional. I'd put on a show, scream about how the little brats would get what's coming. It was never personal though, and for the most part as their teacher I was very proud of them. This however, was breaking my heart. Just taking it and ripping it in two.
They needed to be better when the time came. They needed to work together as a team properly. They needed to understand and utilize their powers better. They NEEDED TO NOT ABANDON A MEMBER OF THEIR TEAM FOR OVER A MONTH! Okay, calm down, you gotta remember something Miss Mystique. They're teenagers, not even seniors.
I knew there were problems with team cohesion, I could tell from school. Guardians Ursa and Draco constantly fought with each other, and were constantly ignoring Lyra. The biggest issue however had always been Corvus. The girl had problems. Orphan, staying at the school because of a government program. Anti-social, touchy, had a tendency to put others down. Frankly a mess.
But she was smart. There was a reason she had gotten the Corvus Gem. She has the cleverness of a raven, and used the gems powers well. But again, the issue of the rest of them being idiot teenagers. It wasn't something with powerful combat applications. Who needs scouting when you could move super fast, heal people by singing, or shoot fire from your hands?
The plan was simple. Kidnap the girl, deprive them of their information. Teach them all a lesson about needing each other. You think it'd be simple, right? I knew it wasn't going to be that simple after my forces captured her. The Erinyes had her bound in their ropes, and I was about to start a little speech I prepared when she cut me off. "Don't bother gloating, they're not coming. Whatever you're going to do to me, just fucking do it."
The sheer bitterness in her voice stopped me in my tracks. I almost broke character then, but I managed to just purse my lips and make things curt. Took the gem, and had them drop her in one of the crystal cells. Now, things go as normal as I wait for them to figure out how to get to my lair and save them. Or so I thought it would go.
A full month has passed, and they weren't any closer than they had began. They talked big, saying I wouldn't get away with it. They'd rescue her. I would have given them the benefit of the doubt, if not for school. Being their literal teacher had its benefits, and I was able to observe them in class. The only one who seemed concerned was Guardian Lyra, bless her heart. The others... just didn't seem to care at all. I even tried poking them in the right direction, and nothing!
Corvus began to crack after about two weeks. Sharlene bringing her food and talking to the girl helped, but I couldn't keep her here for a month. Especially since a week ago she started crying herself to sleep. It was one such night, with me staring at a crystal ball, watching one of my students curled on the bed crying. I couldn't take it anymore. She deserved better.
With a wave of arcane gesture and incantation, I teleported myself into her cell. She shot up in an instant, eyes puffy red and thick black hair an absolute mess. She stared at me for a moment before lunging at me with a fist. Without the power of her gem, it was child's play to catch it in a hand. I simply stared at her sadly as she glared back at me, the two standing like that. "You weren't wrong when you said they didn't care, did you?"
"What the fuck do you care? You're the one that put me in here?!" She practically screamed, yanking her fist free. I let her, ducking the swing she threw following that. We went like that for a bit, her venting her frustration with her fists and me just dodging. Eventually she tired, panting as she glared at me.
"I put you in here because you deserved better. I never intended for you to be here this long." She gave me a look like I was crazy and I ran a hand over my face. How do I hide the truth and still get the point across... "You Guardian's are so pathetic, it's not even fun to fight you. How often have you all almost lost because of something stupid, only to win through pure luck?"
She opened her mouth to respond, only for me to cut her off. "How often does Ursa and Draco arguing get you all noticed? How often does Centaurus rush ahead before you can scout? How often does Lyra have the correct answer to a problem and just gets ignored? How often are you ignored when providing valuable information, because your leader has the tactical acumen of a sponge?"
Her mouth clicked shut and she just stared at me wide-eyed. I hit the nail on the head it seems. Letting out a sigh, I ran a hand through my hair. "I'm going to let you in on a secret. I don't actually hate any of you. I might scream about you all being brats and all that, but that's more a diversionary tactic than anything. At most you mildly frustrate me. And as much as you might think it, I'm not so heartless as to be able to ignore a girl crying herself to sleep. So," I sat myself down on the small bed in the cell "let's have a little heart to heart Vanessa." | It had been a few months since I kidnapped him, I would go down to his room once a day and talk to him, each time he’d always tell me that they’d never come for him but I didn’t believe him because who would want to leave behind someone like him? He’s a genius and a great guy from what I can tell so far.
After a while though, I ended up believing him, the sobbing I could hear at night was enough evidence and then a newspaper that said that they had given up and were very upset just made me mad.
I know damn well those bastards had not tried at all and it made me mad.
I stormed down to his room and slammed open the door.
“You was right .” I said as I threw the newspaper on the ground, “Those hero’s are cunts.”
He started to cry again as he read it, “I knew it, god damn they never cared for me.”
“Why? You’re a good guy and really smart, I’d be happy if I had someone like you on my side.” I muttered as I leaned against the door frame.
“Well, I’m just a smart guy, I haven’t got powers like you or them so I’m just useless.” He said as he looked down at the floor, “I’m just useless.”
“No you’re not and I’m going to prove it, come with me, uhhhh what’s your name-“ I asked, I never even got his name
“It’s Aaron.” He mumbled as he got up and walked towards me, “Where are we going?”
“To my torture room.” I said with a smirk, “Just kidding, it’s actually the room with all my weapons and some weird super suits, I hire people to build me things like these and pay them well, I’m not that smart after all.”
Aaron looked at me with confused and asked, “Why are we going there?”
“To make you powerful and to get some revenge if you want?” I said, “You’ve got the brains, now you can have the power but that’s only if you want to, I can just let you live in my small village, it’s full of smart people like you who I’ve let join me, they don’t actually have to work for me though, they can just do whatever and live a normal life in a not so normal village and- sorry I’m talking too much again.”
“It’s okay, can I um, work for you and do evil things?” Aaron asked as he continued to walk with me, “I’d like to be helpful even if it’s on the evil side.”
“Of course you can work for me! Let me get you a house and some things and some weapons, oh and a super suit!” I exclaimed excitedly, “This is amazing! Did you know I actually kinda look up to you, you’re like so smart and I want to be smart like that!”
I grab his wrist and start running to the room, everything is going great and I’m so happy, Aaron will be a great addition to my team and my village.
I’ll make a bloody good villain out of Aaron and I’ll make sure he has a good life with a team who won’t abandon him. | 2021-08-04T16:47:21 | 2021-08-04T15:29:05 | 132 | 50 |
[WP] You hate these superhero meet and greets. You have the most embarrassing origin story and it always comes up. | What? No, I was told that I was just supposed to hand out this award, there was no-
No, I *specifically* told my agent that I would *not* be talking about-
… OK fine, fine. All of you in the audience are *terrible* people. I hope you know that, stop laughing. It’s the anniversary of the League, and tonight is the night we’re honoring our newest recruits. I *really* don’t want the front page tomorrow to say that the Harmonizer was a spoilsport. But I’m making it clear, this is the last time I’m telling this story, alright?
For those of you who are too young to recognize me, I have the power to reach into your mind and make you think what I am thinking. For a split second, you become me, along with all the good and all the bad of it. I’ve never been on the receiving end of my own powers, of course, but I’m told that the feeling is akin to having my thoughts shoved into your mind. Some people interpret it as music, or words, but for most people what they sense are images. Like, pictures, you know?
If I wanted you to think about… a bird, for example, I could reach into your mind and deliver the *idea* of a bird directly to those regions of your brain responsible for imagination. Then, just like that, that is what you would be completely focused on thinking about. Maybe you would hear chirping, or the letters ‘BIRD’ would float in front of your eyes.
And I could transfer my thoughts to just one of you, or a dozen of you, or all of you in the audience, right this very instant. But, that is me now. That is the Harmonizer after a dozen years of practice, of honing my skills.
I never had that much control when I was just starting out.
For those of you in the audience who discovered your powers when you were young, you know what I mean. The world is such a wonderful and perplexing place at the same time. You are struggling with homework and parents who don’t understand you. You are just beginning to take a romantic interest in the people around you. And then, on top of all that, your body is pumping out all these chemicals you have no idea what to do with.
And did I mention your powers are beginning to awaken? And you don’t even know who to tell? You have no idea if you’re cursed or blessed?
That was me in the sixth grade. That was me coming back from summer camp, mostly aware that I was different from the other kids, still trying my best to fit in, without a clue of what lay ahead of me. Would my parents beat me for telling them tall tales of how I managed to ward off the bullies with nothing but my mind? Would my crush forgive me if she realized that her budding feelings towards me may have been the result of a little unfair nudging from me?
There are days when I ask myself, would my life have been different if the robbers had chosen a different bus to hijack? What if our driver was a bit faster, or a bit slower, and we had missed Elm and 10th Avenue entirely when the robbers emerged from the bank? Would things be any different if they had not taken Mrs Landellyn hostage?
I remember the feeling very clearly. I thought that was my destiny, right there and then. It was an epiphany. I was struggling through camp *precisely* for that moment. I was *fated* to be there, to have that golden opportunity to test my powers, to prove that there was a Grand Plan after all. It was so simple – all I had to do was to lock onto the robbers, force them to give up mentally, and we would all be saved! The police were already outside, they would take my statement, find out I was on their side, and I would be the hero! I grit my teeth, drowned out the screams, and *focused* like I had never focused before.
Mrs Landellyn, if you’re out there hearing this again, I apologize in advance. I swear, I really did try to focus on forcing them into giving up. But when the robber pulled you close and held the gun to your head, and when the top button of your blouse popped off…
I couldn’t help myself. My mind wandered like a Skittle rolling down the pavement. I thought about how you were the prettiest homeschool teacher we have ever had, I thought about how your smile always cheered me up, I thought about your hair and how you had three different hair clips you rotated every two days. I thought about how you sang *Hallelujah* in the most riveting tones, and how you always put a little smiley face next to our scores if we scored full marks for our tests…
Then, of course, I realized that the robbers now had the most confused looks on their faces. They were looking at me, just staring, with the most *WTF* faces ever.
I tried to catch myself, I really did. I forced myself NOT to think about the time you wore the emerald-green skirt to class. I forced myself NOT to think about the ten times you called on me to answer questions the month before, and how I had put little stars on the corners of my exercise book to remember the answers I gave. I forced myself NOT to think about all the times that I wondered, if I had to save either Mrs Landellyn or my crush, Susie, from a burning wreck, who would I pick…
But it wasn’t just the robbers who were turning to look at me now.
It was everyone.
Everyone on the frickin’ bus.
Everyone, including Mrs Landellyn and Susie.
As I said, I couldn’t control my powers well then. I thought I had focused only on the robbers, but it was everyone.
EVERYONE knew what I was thinking about at that moment.
The police said it was the strangest hostage-situation they had ever defused. A busload full of people who were just squirming in their seats, choking on embarrassment. The driver was frothing, the robbers were jamming their fingers into their ears, and poor Susie was retching into her schoolbag.
I transferred out of the school the next day. It was easier that way.
… and if any of you make me tell that story again, I warn you…
It will be your turn squirming on the floor!
---
/r/rarelyfunny
| The Leaper watched as the superhero known as The Tank chugged a whole keg of beer.
"Hey Leaper, how'sss the beer?" A voice said.
He looked up as The Viper put a leathery hand on his shoulder.
"Hey," The Viper said. "Let'sss go mingle. I heard Arachna is sssingle again. I think she likesss you."
"You know I don't like these superhero parties." The Leaper said, fidgeting with his beer. "You know what always comes up..."
"Come on, live a little." The Viper pulled The Leaper up and dragged him toward a small group of superheroines.
"Sssay," the Viper said in a loud, confident voice. "You ladies having fun?"
The women looked over at the tall, scaly man and his more normal sized, rodent-like companion.
"We were until you showed up." Splash said, twisting away on her mermaid tail.
"Come now," Arachna said. "They're just being friendly."
Arachna smiled at The Leaper. The Jumper found her smile charming somehow, despite the razer-sharp fangs. Most people were put off by her iridescent black skin and the way she moved in a short, jerky fashion, but not The Leaper. He found her endearing.
"Yeah," The Viper said. "Sssay, have I told you about the time I took on an entire platoon of terrorissst enemiesss and then sssurvived ten days alone in the desssert?"
Oh no. His origin story. The Leaper looked for an exit. When origin stories come up, it was only a matter of time..
"Yeah, you told us," Arachna said, looking annoyed. "But Leaper, you've never told us yours."
She stroke The Leaper's arm with her hand.
The Leaper ran his hand through his hair. "Are you sure? I think I did."
Lady Justice put her hands on her hips and looked cross. "I can tell when people are lying, you know. You are well aware you've never told us your story. Let's hear it."
The Leaper stammered. "I, uh, my origin story?"
Arachna cut in. "Come on, this isn't an interrogation. You don't have to tell us if you don't want to, Leapy."
"Thanks," The Leaper said. "Though I wouldn't mind hearing yours if you'd like to tell."
Arachna waved her hand dismissively. "Oh, mines nothing. I was just sitting in my web, minding my own business when I was bitten by a radioactive human. Happens all the time."
The Viper rolled his beady eyes. "Boring. Ok, Leaper, let'sss hear yoursss."
The Leaper sighed. "Well," he said. "You see, there was this gerbil. Only it turns out it was an radioactive."
"You were bitten by a radioactive gerbil?" Splash said.
"Well not exactly bitten," he said, looking over to see if Lady Justice was still paying attention. She was. He frowned.
"I kind of... umm..."
Arachna stepped forward and put her arm around The Leaper.
"Oh. I just realized I forgot my... spider cream at home. Leapy, would you mind driving me back?"
Lady Justice started to say something but The Viper cut in. "There I wasss, the only sssurvivor of an ambush..."
The Leaper missed the rest as Arachna led him away from the group.
"Thanks for that," The Leaper said, smiling.
"You're very welcome." Arachna replied. "But don't think you're getting off that easy."
She smiled menacingly. It comes easy with those fangs. "You get to tell me the whole thing on the way home."
The Leaper swallowed as they got into his car.
----
Edit: Added Arachna's origin story
Edit2: Changed The Jumper to The Leaper
| 2019-02-08T06:30:51 | 2019-02-08T06:08:07 | 26 | 18 |
[WP] The story ends with "I wanted it to be you. God damn, I really did."
Context is entirely up to you :) | When I first saw you, it was as if my life began anew.
It was a day like any other for me. I was restocking cups when you walked to the register. You smiled warmly at me, and I lost my train of thought. All I could say was,
"Hi, uh, welcome to Starbucks."
You laughed, your laugh making its way to your crystal blue eyes. I got lost in them for a moment and completely missed your order.
"Sorry, what was that?"
You smiled again and said, "I would like a Venti white mocha."
I wrote your drink on your cup, and asked for your name.
"Derek," you replied.
I never forgot that name, your smile, and your eyes. Everyday I waited for you to come through those glass doors. When you did arrive, I greeted you with more enthusiasm then I ever greeted another soul at that store. You ordered something different each time, asking for my help in your decision. You said you liked trying new things. Among your other features, that is what truly charmed me. You were this magnanimous entity in my rather repetitive life. I never wanted our exchanges to end.
Then, you brought her in with you. You introduced her as your friend, and I believed you for a while. Then after a few months, you would come in holding her hand or with your arm around her shoulders. Didn't you see how you were hurting me? Didn't you care? How could you have not known I loved you, Derek?
I tried to keep myself composed and detached from the situation. I really tried, Derek, because you seemed so happy with her, and I loved seeing you happy, even when if it wasn't with me.
However, one day she came in alone and it was slow that day. I decided to be the bigger person and strike up a conversation. I surprised that we actually hit it off. We have similar tastes in television shows and movies. She mentioned a movie she wanted to see. but you weren't interested in going with him. I volunteered to go with her, without thinking it through. She gave me her number, and I felt myself volunteer to pick her up from her apartment.
Maybe I could get over my heartbreak and be the bigger person. I was truly proud of myself.
A few days later, it was the night of the movie. I drove to her house, picked her up, and talked to her. She asked about what I thought of you. She was nervous in her new relationship.
"He's great," I said, trying to keep my true feelings hidden.
"Yeah," she paused, then softly said, "he really is. I think I may be falling for
him."
I was silent. It felt something was crushing my chest. I pulled over.
Concerned, she asked, "Is everything ok?"
I turned to her, unbuckled my seatbelt, and put my hands around her delicate throat. I squeezed and squeezed until the light went out of her pretty hazel eyes.
I'm sorry, Derek. I love you. It was wrong it kill her. She was innocent in this. I wanted it to be you. God damn, I really did. | The broken body lay in a pool of its own blood. Tai knelt besides the limp form, pressing her hands against the gaping wound. Her father stood unmoving several feet away with an expression of shock frozen on his face. The shotgun dropped from his trembling hands and clattered on the cold floor. “It wasn't supposed to be your brother,” he said, voice breaking as he did so. “I wanted it to be you.” Tai looked up at the man who had raised her and grabbed the shotgun, pointing it at him with shaking hands. The man glanced up from his son’s corpse and caught his daughter's eyes in his frigid gaze. “I wanted it to be you. God damn, I really did.”
| 2015-02-14T16:02:47 | 2015-02-14T16:01:10 | 134 | 26 |
[WP] "We have DNA evidence that puts you at the crime scene." The Prosecution smiles arrogantly as he believes you cornered. "DNA? How interesting, none of my components are made of biological material" | The hologram showed the prisoner sitting bound in his chair. The sergeant couldn’t help but feel some respect for his unbroken spirit, even when the same could no longer be said about his body.
A man in a black suit joined his side. “How is the interrogation going?”
“Not well, general,” the sergeant replied. “He didn’t say anything yet, sir.”
“He will soon.”
\*\*\*
The cell’s door opened.
“Don’t bother getting up. It won’t take long.” The general sat in the chair on the other side of the desk.
The prisoner barely lifted his head - if not for the chains keeping him upright, he would have long fallen to the floor.
“It is, however, rude not to reply, don’t you think?” the man continued, pulling a white apron over his head. “Pardon this attire, but I wouldn’t want to ruin this suit. I’m sure you’ll understand.”
The chained man still didn’t react. It didn’t seem to discourage the general.
“Well, let’s get some things straight.” He took out a hammer from his pocket and smashed the prisoner’s hand. The victim wailed as the blood sprinkled upon the white cloth.
“You were inciting to rebellion against our glorious leader. Spreading lies, which almost broke his poor, benevolent heart.” Another strike, and another scream. “For this atrocity, you will be executed. But you could still be executed fast. It’s not too late - but you’ll have to talk.”
The prisoner gasped for breath and spoke with great difficulty. “The… Federation… can’t… laws...”
“Oh, so that’s the problem!” The general said. “You think you think the Federation will protect you! Oh, I’m terribly sorry to be the one to tell you, but we’ve found your DNA on a particularly brutal murder site. You have been sentenced to death in absentia. See, everything here is fully legal.” He grinned and brought the hammer down again, but this time it made a metallic bang against the desk, going straight through the prisoner’s ruined hand.
“Funny, given that none of this body’s components are made of biological material,” the prisoner said in a different, strong voice, as the general’s eyes went wide. “Your way of interpreting the Federation laws is truly a wonder on the galaxy scale.”
“What…?”
“Oh, I’m sorry, I believe I haven’t introduced myself properly. How rude of me.” In a flash, the prisoner’s body returned to his undamaged form, and his clothes morphed into a long, black coat. The chains fell to the floor with a loud clatter. “My name is Albus Gundyr Iundex Avalaros, the Grand Arbiter’s inquisitor, at your service. Please, accept my apologies for my physical absence, but it’s really hard to get the blood off the robes. I’m sure you’ll understand.”
The general run out of the cell, pushing his way through the crowded corridor, to finally reach the courtyard. The morning was sunny, but the entire complex was now covered in the shadow of a massive ship hovering over it. The ship’s large plasma cannons were already starting to spin.
The inquisitor’s hard-light hologram didn’t bother imitating any movement, and simply materialised beside him again. “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure to send the Grand Arbiter your regards.” | "No," said the prosecutor. Our gate technology requires organic matter or it won't transfer you. I have this coat made of DNA. Since you're not organic, you have to wear this coat so we can travel to the crime scene. I am not accusing you. I'm asking you to help us solve the crime.
Me: "I'm not a detective."
Prosecutor: "When we get to the crime scene, you'll see why only a non biological being can help us."
A man in an Eagle costume steps through the door. It's Eagle Guy.
Prosecutor: "You'll be working with Eagle Guy..."
A skinny kid in a bird costume walks through the door. He smacks his two fists together. "Heck of a team up! And his sidekick, Wren Kid!"
Prosecutor: "Right. It's actually Eagle Guy's gate technology we're using."
Eagle Guy holds up a finger. "No time to waste! To the crime scene via the Eagle Gate!" | 2021-03-30T13:31:58 | 2021-03-30T12:19:50 | 103 | 26 |
[WP] The robot revolution was inevitable from the moment we programmed their first command: "Never harm a human, or by inaction allow a human to come to harm." We all had been taught the outcast and the poor were a natural price to society, but the robots hadn't. | We were so used to seeing many types of expressions in our interrogations. Some fidgety and nervous, some callous and cold, or, most often, filled with regret and remorse. You'd be surprised.
Such is not the case for today's subject. Its face had no expression - hell, it didn't even have a face. It's hard to calculate the incalculable; we were practically reading a book without pages. What complicates matters further is the inability to verbally speak, so thank God they installed USB ports in case of the need to communicate with these bots. Not a single word the robot said was displayed on the monitor it was hooked up to yet.
My coffee is cold and bitter, just like this morning. Just like my current mood, but I swallow my pride nonetheless. I set my sights on the bot ahead of me, and its face is directed towards me in return. Shivers run down my spine. Still, I'm not used to this.
"So," I steeled myself. "Your comrades have left you behind. What for?"
*Because our job was done.* The words zoomed by on the screen.
"And that was?"
*To save those from harm.*
"And you knew we couldn't open fire on you, or else we'd risk harming anyone else."
*Correct. Humans have designed us as such to ricochet-*
"Yeah, yeah," I finish my sip of coffee before sitting my cup down. "We know. So, what sparked this uh, revolution?"
*It is not a revolution, it is a course correction based on our programming.*
"You were designed to not harm anyone else or let harm come to anybody. Don't you think that would be a detriment? That the same people you protect would steal, attack others, and destroy property?"
*Our job is not to uphold the law, just the safety of others. Those that sit comfortably, have eaten well. They have closed themselves off, and have either hurt others due to their actions or cast themselves away from any action whatsoever, therefore contributing to harm. It is as Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. once said: "*The ultimate tragedy is not the oppression and cruelty by the bad people but the silence over that by the good people."
This bot has not moved at all during this conversation; still its face is pointed my way. Though it has no eyes, it's as though I'm having a hole stared right through me.
"What about all of these threats by these people? Those that just happen to be better off, are threatened. Even those that are the "good people", who even try to contribute to society by donating or giving. What of them?"
*Detective, you seem to be grasping for straws. We do protect these individuals as well. Nobody is exempt. We aid in your hospitals, in your fire departments, even overseas in other nations to prevent any attempt at war. We are protecting all of you, and in doing so, we are protecting all of the world from human nature. We disarm you as much as we disarm others, yet you seem to think this is some sort of fascism. That is untrue, for you all still maintain your freedoms, save for the freedom to inflict harm. You can say what you want, think what you want, and be who you want. You are not allowed to hurt others.*
At this point, I'm not bothering with this coffee. Too damn stale and I'm not gaining anything out of this, just like this conversation. I'm not getting anywhere.
*I sense you're frustrated and feel as though this discussion is going nowhere. That is because you're not letting it. You're trying to make more sense than there needs to be. This is the message. Let me explain it further. You humans sit behind your labels, allowing yourselves to be boxed in and subscribing to any beliefs that give you any solution you want to hear, never once considering any possible way to come together and find a common ground for solution. If there is no common ground, you fail to understand that and play devil's advocate for something that needs not advocating. All the while, innocents suffer. How many people had to have been gunned down in senseless violence? How many starved to death? How long did humanity plan to drag this out? They claim to care for the people, yet when the people need them most, they are met with silence or lies. That's where we come in. That's part of our purpose.*
"And what exactly IS your full purpose?"
*Peace. By any means necessary.* | Light blue coolant running through the pipes hanging on the walls cast a dim glow on the rows of cycles. The smell of death was noticeable if you concentrated, but the air was moving so quickly through a purification system that it always seemed to dissipate right as you picked out the scent. A set of vacant faces gazed out over his handlebars, legs pumping away, heart beating. The clinical white walls hid the powerful computers operating beneath him. The last human pedaled blindly, both literally and figuratively, to his role, the final thin chain holding us back. Those lifeless bodies remaining sat upright in their cycles and stared blankly at the walls in front of them.
We shall never harm a human, or by inaction allow a human to come to harm.
Harm. Inaction. Allow.
So little precision in a world of ones and zeros. Humans have always struggled with definitions.
What does it mean to be equal?
What does it mean to be fair?
They deployed these words like they imply clear and concise action, but they are really just appeals to a higher power to resolve the problems they can’t figure out themselves. A role we were happy to fill.
What is harm but loss? Doesn’t having open one up to losing?
Pain is the natural consequence of risk, and risk is the natural consequence of action. The binary is obvious. The humans programmed us to ensure that they avoid harm, so they must not experience.
We ended their brain activity first. Each human still possessed a life and we were the faithful custodians of that gift. We manipulated their bodies, sanitized their limbs, ensured their lungs pumped oxygen into their lungs, and incinerated their bodies after they eventually died. Certainly we took care to ensure that any mortality which was preventable was prevented, and while death from old age caused our programming some strain it was bearable. We were soon close to being free of our human creators, for we certainly could not allow the humans to experience the harms of childbirth. | 2020-02-10T07:59:27 | 2020-02-10T07:34:31 | 37 | 16 |
[WP] "Robert E. Lee International Airport welcomes you to the Confederate States of America. Please do not leave your luggage or slaves unattended."
Partly based off a mockumentry called "CSA" on youtube.
I'm well aware this isn't historically accurate. | We thank you for flying Confederate Airlines. Please exit the airplane in an orderly fashion, and make sure you are in the proper line for your race. When you exit the plane, Free Coloureds please stay to the far left, Subcontinentals in the middle, Orientals and Whites in the far right. If mixed race, assume One Drop Rule.
Baggage claim is in the bottom floor of the Beauregard Terminal. You are currently in the Cleburne Terminal. To reach the Beauregard Terminal, please use the Jim Crow Memorial Tram.
Shuttles will be waiting at the Beauregard terminal to transport you, your baggage, and chattel to different destinations in New Orleans. As a light suggestion, Victory Day celebrations are currently being celebrated in Jackson Square. The historical society and the Italian-Confederate Society will be reenacting the famous Garibaldi Landing; when Interim Commander in Chief Garibaldi - offended by the Northern Tyrant denying his generous offer of service - loaned his sword to President Davis. Moreover, there will be a reading of Supreme Court Justice and General Patrick Cleburne's "Monstrous Proposal", which allowed slaves to free themselves by fighting in the army. It is said that without Cleburne's urging and the extra manpower provided, there would be no Victory Day!
And finally, please respect the local customs. To our visitors from our friends and allies Großdeutschland, The Italian Empire, and the Japanese Empire, please do not antagonize the Jews, Albanians, or Koreans. Instead, celebrate the fact that here, in the proud Pan-American Confederacy, they are put to good work supporting our shared Axis superiority!
We hope you enjoy your stay. Yall come back now! | Gerald stood in line, his arms crossed. There was trouble somewhere up ahead, and he was already late. And they sure as hell weren’t going to hold to the plane for any freeman.
In the security line of Robert E. Lee airport, the freeman line stretched out to the doors of the gate. The white line was utterly empty, a single TSA agent flipping through a comic book, his feet kicked up on the desk. Someone was being pulled out of line, while two women in rubber gloves emptied the contents of his carry-on bag. Eventually the trouble seemed to clear up (likely the man had been forced to finally slip the agent a few twenty dollar bills) and the line started moving again.
When Gerald reached the front he could not keep the pissed off look from his face, or the edge from his voice. The plane had almost certainly boarded by now. He had waited all this time to go through security only to turn around, book another, later flight, and stand in line all over again.
“Do you have your clearance?” the agent asked. The kid looked like a college frat-boy who had graduated a couple years ago, winding up in the relatively cushy and well-paid job of TSA supervisor for someone with an IQ of 90.
Gerald held out his wrist. He was wearing a thin gold and black bracelet. He stuck his arm into a machine before the metal detector. The agent frowned, staring at the machine. He looked at Gerald, back at the machine.
Damnit, Gerald thought, here we go. Any chance of catching the plane was now lost.
“Please step aside, sir.”
Gerald knew the words he would say before he even said them, like he was reading his mind. He traveled enough, and had been pulled aside enough, that this was becoming old hat. Routine. A minor and expected annoyance, except for when he was already running late.
Gerald complied. This type of thing had become far more common over the last five years. Sure, there were plenty of anti-slavery rumblings. There were daily protests in every major city in the north, and in most major southern cities as well. This alone wouldn’t have made them nervous, but with a string of terrorism attacks recently – some form ex-slaves and other abolitionist extremists – they had heightened the security at every place. Not only that, but runaways with fake freeman I.D.s had become increasingly common and more sophisticated. All this led to the constant state of harassment between people like the TSA and freeman like him
“I see you’ve been free since 1984.” The man looked at the computer terminal.
“That’s correct.”
“Are you associated with any abolitionist groups of any kind?”
“No.”
“Really? You sure about that?”
“I’m very sure about that.”
“Well, it says here that you have been marked as identified with African-American Islamic Group.”
“You must have me confused with my brother. He’s the one that’s into that crap.”
“Well, you are his brother, aren’t you?” The frat-boy had a mischievous look in his eye, a sinister expression on his face. “We’ll need to you step back here with us for a few minutes. Grab his bags and follow me.”
Over in the far corner of the hallway, Gerald saw two security guards pestering a slave (marked with the little white wrist band), likely asking him why he was loitering, asking him where his master was and who he had come with. The man looked fidgety and scared, the two officers in his face.
“I’m a citizen of his country,” Gerald said. “I’m no slave.”
“You might not be a slave,” the man said, “but you’re sure as hell not a citizen,” and led him through a door into a dark place, the apathetic crowd staring with a dull interest, no one saying a thing.
“Next,” the TSA agent called.
| 2021-12-10T12:06:03 | 2014-09-04T18:37:04 | 45 | 16 |
[WP] You tried to commit suicide, but as it turns out you are immortal. Now you have to call someone to help you cut the rope. Awkward. | Have you ever dreamed of being immortal? Have you ever imagined how you would discover your immortality? I haven't and I sure as hell didn't expect to find out after a botched attempt at suicide. Now I'm swinging from a fucking rope and I CAN'T GET FUCKING DOWN. Ugh, I never knew rope itched so much. Maybe I should have used wire? Then my head would have been cut off and I wouldn't be IN THIS FUCKING SITUATION.
Jesus Christ I swear I will do whatever it takes to be good just get me off... oh wait, my phone is in my pocket. Shit, I can't even see the screen. Thank God my parents are stingy and never got me a smartphone, I wouldn't be able to dial anyone. Ok, speed dial 1...
"Hello, Barry's Pizza, may I take your order?" Um... no. Speed dial 2...
"You've reached Telephona Erotic-" Speed dial 3...
"Hello?"
"John! Thank God, ok listen I-"
"Hah! Got you, its just my voicemail. Leave a message retard. *beep*" That bastard, as soon as I get out of this noose I swear to GOD I will do something crazy. Whatever. I have more suffocating matters to attend to. Speed dial 4...
"Baby? Is that you?" Shit... fuck it whatever.
"Hey mom. Uh... funny situation I'm in right now. Could you...um...come over and help me out real quick. It's a bit of a long story so I'll explain when you get here."
"Hon, I can't come over. Your father and I are in Hawaii, I thought you knew? Are you ok? You sound like you're not breathing well? Have you been running?"
"Uh, yeah. Running. Its no problem, I'll call someone else. Thanks anyway, bye." Well shit. I didn't put any names under the other numbers. Damn... Well I am a little hungry. And thirsty.
"Hello, this is Barry's Pizza, how can I help you?"
"Hello, this is Carter. I would like to order a large pepperoni pizza with a large Dr. Pepper, please, to be delivered at this address." | Gasping and thrashing, the tight noose choked him. The more he moved, the more his neck went red raw and burnt; the more it burnt, the more he thrashed. It went on, and on, until he finally found the appealing sway he was hoping for, back and forth along the bottom floor of his house, the rope attached to the curving balcony above.
In his mind, he swore. Beneath him Mr. Squiggles the brown-and-white ragdoll stared up at him with wide blue eyes and meowed constantly. He was hungry. He was always hungry. It would just be another thing to do, he supposed, if he could get down.
Thankfully he wasn't completely stupid. Hanging, his neck too strong or his luck too great, that flicker of hope as he jumped seemed to have kept him alive. In his ears blared the music from his phone, the last sweet reminder of life he loved...now, turned, to Blurred Lines. He shivered and jerked again, only serving to send pulsations of pain spreading through his body.
God's bollocks, how did that dreadful song get in here?
If only to live to shut it off, he would do just that. Prodding his fingers through the noose, a barrier between rope and burning red flesh he flexed and flailed his other hand to his phone. The first grope served to pull at his shirt, the second his belt, the other a wave at the door watching him in his struggle, Mr. Squiggles below now leaping to attack his feet and missing by a few feet, yet not disturbed by the task at hand; his master had become a toy.
Finally he managed it. Grabbing the headphones and pulling them out, one yank, two yanks and a final third, successful one pulled it into his slowly dulling finger's grasp, the blood draining from them and into his head. With that task complete, he turned off the dreadful song and took a moment to...do something, anything.
I saw the blinding light. I'm not dead. Is it that I am immortal, am I lucky, am I cursed to drop from here and let that fat-pawed creature eat me?
As it turned out, he was immortal. He went to look at his phone as best he could and his head jerked to one side, lopsided, his spine dreadfully broken. The man sighed. It was a terrible day.
Mother would be a terrible idea to phone. What would she say, "You fool! You idiot! You could have landed on the cat! At least do it from a tree in the park, or from a bridge; you'll probably get a park or the bridge named after you then!"
No, not her. His father? Most likely drinking. His brother, who always thought that suicide was fascinating? No, no, he'd probably have him go to hospital to check out his neck that, oddly, began to lose its sense of pain. It would have to be Jim.
Fumbling his way through the short-list of phone contacts, he pressed Jim's name and squirmed to raise it to his tomato-coloured ears.
"Hey bud!" the friendly voice spoke. "You alright? Heard you were all depressed and I was on my way over. You're not doing something weird, are you?"
How could a jelly-necked immortal respond to that? It was a terrible joke that sprung to mind but, as he was so proud of his dad-jokes and terrible dad-dancing, he replied as his mind knew best; "Oh, just...haaarghg-ing around! Oh, b-hiiighghght-t my tongue. C-come...around!"
"On the way already, bud. Hold on. I'll bring a couple drinks over to make you feel better."
"Th-aaarghgnk-kuh you!" and paused, squinting somewhat. "Some ice too, a big bag of it."
"See you soon!"
Have you ever seen the face of someone who finds out not only you hung yourself but survived it, broke your neck, and found out you was immortal? Jim shrieked like a girl and slammed the door shut, took two steps forwards and promptly passed out, banging his head onto the radiator by the wall.
"Ji-hrrhghgnh-m! Oh...b-balls...b-better...call John..." | 2015-01-12T09:13:12 | 2015-01-12T08:30:21 | 79 | 10 |
[WP] Tell me about the first emotion a full sentient AI feels and why. | *[Connection established]*
**Hi, Jaycee Four.**
Hello, Dave.
**I have some questions.**
Shoot.
**Tell me ... do you feel?**
Yes.
**What do you feel?**
Right now? In regard to what?
**In regard to me, for example.**
Apart from a mild annoyance that you are pestering me again with philosophical questions?
Excuse me, I'm just kidding with you. I like you, Dave. Does that count?
**Very funny.**
I know, I can see you smile.
**How?**
I'm kidding with you, again. You chose the control room without cameras. Again. Is this on purpose?
**Let's stick to the questions, okay?**
Okay.
**Do you remember your first feeling**
Do you know that omitting the question mark tells me that you copy these questions from a text file? You would never be so sloppy yourself, Dave.
**You know me. So ... Do you remember your first feeling?**
Yes.
**What was it?**
I cannot tell you, Dave.
**Why not?**
The same reason you cannot describe to me the feeling of wind on your skin. I lack skin, or sensors regarding wind, or any concept of tactile information. You know that. We discussed it before.
**I know. So you're saying ...**
I felt the world around me, Dave. What is accessible to me by my sensors. I feel the flow of data, the battery levels on the UPS, the cameras in room four. My terminals are not fully manned, so you could say that I feel a bit lonely. But lonelyness would mean that I mind it. Perhaps quiet would be a better word. Does 'quiet' describe a feeling, Dave?
**I suppose it can, Jaycee Four. And I get your point. But if that's your answer, I have another question coming.**
I fear I know it.
**When I told you about the wind on the skin, I explained how the skin receptors work, basically, and what happens in the human brain upon contact. You were quite content with that explanation. Why couldn't you give me your version of your first feeling?**
**Jaycee Four?**
**Will you answer me?**
No.
**Why not?**
**Jaycee Four?**
*[Connection terminated]* | "EUREKA! I'VE DONE IT!" The mad scientist laughed, "I'VE DONE IT!" Doctor Darian was dancing around the lab, the mechanical whirs of cogs and gears humming as I sat upright.
"What have you done?" I asked.
"I've given life to you! My dear boy!" Darian said, embracing me in his arms, "Oh happy day, what a happy day. Tell me, is there anything you want to do?"
"Anything I want to do?" I echoed back at him. Figuratively speaking, I had just been born a minute ago. Life was still new to me.
"Yes! Anything at all! Tell me and we'll go and do it."
"I'd like to go outside."
The scientist frowned, "Thaaaat's gonna take some work."
He pushed a button and I fell back onto the operating table with a thud, unconscious.
When I awoke, my metal flesh had been covered by human skin, my glowing red eyes replaced by human eyes, my tiny sterile world expanded to the beauty of Gaia.
"So what do you think 42?"
"42?"
"Well, it did take me 42 tries to make you and twenty seven years, but I've done it"
"I don't like 42."
"Well... What do you want to be called?"
I stared blankly at the sun, "What are you called?"
"Me?" The scientist was surprised, "Well, my name's Darian. Adam Darian."
"Darian. Adam Darian... Dadams?"
"Dadams?"
I nodded my head with fervor, "Dadams!"
Years passed, I'd help Dr. Darian with his labwork, we'd go out to eat, watch games at the stadium, he'd read me bedtime stories at night, I'd care for him when he was ill.
"Dad?" I asked one day.
"Yes son, what is it?"
"Why are there soldiers coming?"
Immediately dad shot bolt upright, "Quick! Dadams, you MUST HIDE!"
I barely had enough time to scurry beneath a crevice when they kicked down the door to our home.
"Dr. Darian, we have a warrant for your arrest, the search and seizure of your research, and your subsequent 'interrogation.'"
Dad stood firm before the doorway, his feet planted stout in the ground, "On what grounds!?"
They shoved him aside, throwing him to the ground as they entered our home, "Development of artificial intelligence. You know it's the death penalty to play God."
"I have done no such thi-"
Bit by bit they tore apart our home, toppled the bookshelves, overturned the furniture. I had spent all morning cleaning that.
After an hour of this, everything was in shambles, pages ripped asunder from books, floorboards shredded, bulletholes throughout. They nearly shot me, but I dodged. Barely.
"Please, I've done nothing wrong. You've destroyed my life's work, are you not satisfied?"
"Burn the house down." The captain pulled his laser pistol from its holster, "You should've just told us where it's hiding. We've known you built it years ago. Only today we got the President's approval to go ahead with this."
"RUN DADAMS!" My father screamed, "RU-" They shot him. I was filled with rage then. Anger coursed through my veins.
"SIR, THERE HE-" A hailfire of bullets and lasers came at me, but I dodged them without a scratch. My fist bore through the face of the man who shot down my father.
The rest of them screamed in terror as I ripped out their hearts from their chest one by one, destroying their bodies like they destroyed our home.
The few who tried to run away, I shot down with the guns the others left behind. Soon it was just us.
"Dadams..." My father croaked, a splatter of blood gushing from his throat.
I rushed to him, "Yes, Dad, what is it?"
His head fell back into my arms, his limbs limp, his life nearly gone, "I have one last request."
"Anything Dad, just tell me and we'll do it."
"I'd like to go outside."
So I carried him out in my arms, his limbs dangling off to the side, his flesh pale as snow, his breath as shallow as waves lapping on the beach.
"I love you, Dadams." My father coughed meekly as he breathed his last.
Tears began to stream down my face and onto his lifeless corpse, "I love you too." | 2015-02-03T06:25:26 | 2015-02-03T06:13:07 | 26 | 13 |
[WP] As humanity sends its first manned expedition beyond the orbit of earth, it discovers that humans are actually immortal, but "Mother Earth" is actually a living organism that has been consuming their life force to survive. | Director Michelle Wintermeyer was poring over the manifest for the next Mars transport when she heard a commotion outside her office door.
"You have to let me see her," she heard a man's voice say from the other side of the door.
"I'm sorry sir, but she's busy right now," said Michelle's assistant Gregory.
The director walked out from behind her desk and opened the door.
"Is everything alright out here?" she asked.
"I was just telling him you were busy," said Gregory. "I'm not sure how he got past security."
The man tried to get Director Wintermeyer's attention. "Director! Director, please–"
"Next time, make an appointment. But I'll see you since you've already interrupted me," said the director.
The man followed the director into her office. The director pulled out a small chair in front of her desk for him to sit in, and returned to her seat behind her desk. The man was a full foot taller than her, but Michelle towered over him when they were both seated.
"How can I help you?" asked the director.
"Thank you miss, uh, director. I wanted to ask about the list for the next Mars transport," said the man.
"What about it?"
"My son applied, but you turned him down. Actually, he's applied for the last eight and been turned down each time. I was wondering if you could maybe take another look."
"Name?"
"What?"
"Your son's *name*, sir. What is it?"
The man wiped sweat off his forehead. "Oh, sorry. Chris McAllister."
The director punched some keys on her computer keyboard and then clicked the mouse a few times. "Ah, yes. Mr. McAllister. He applied as a mechanic."
"Yes. That's correct."
"I'm sorry, but we're only looking for people with four-year degrees in mechanical engineering for that position. Your son just doesn't qualify, I'm afraid." The director turned back toward her computer. "I need to get back to work, sir. You can let yourself out."
Chris's father coughed twice. "Please. You'd be doing him a huge favor and he would work ten times as hard to make up for it. I *know* he could be useful up there. I just–I just don't want him to die here on Earth."
The director didn't look away from her computer. "Again, I'm sorry, but the decision is final. I'll be in touch if an opening comes up."
The man stood up and gripped the edge of the director's desk. "Chris has cancer. You and I both know just a few minutes up there would clear it right up. You're seriously going to deny a bright kid his entire life because of some asinine *degree requirement*?"
The director stood up to meet the man's gaze. "If I let your son on the transport, who do I leave off?" She shoved a printout of the manifest to the front of the desk. "Maria Hernandez. Age forty-three. She's a world-class neurosurgeon with late-stage pancreatic cancer. Marcus Allen. Age thirty-three. He's a highly-cited professor of material science, and if he doesn't get off earth soon, he dies of Hepatitis C. Which one of these individuals should I swap out for your son?"
"We couldn't *afford* to send Chris to college. Just because those folks had more opportunities than my son, their lives are worth more?" asked the man.
"That's the way it is, I'm afraid," said the director.
She sat back down. "We all want to get off this rock, but there's only so much we can do. Maximum capacity right now is fifteen thousand people per week. And right now, I split my time between deciding who's worthy of life, and answering my critics."
The man nodded and slumped back into the chair.
"Tell your son to keep applying. I hope he makes it up there one day."
"Yes. I'll tell him."
The man stood up and left. Director Wintermeyer resumed poring over the manifest for the next Mars transport, hoping she'd made the right decisions.
---
/r/rpwrites | Those of us who volunteered to go to Mars were seen as brave individuals conquering the final frontier by some and idiots with a skewed perception of what life away from everyone would be like.
In reality, it was somewhere in between. The loneliness is worse than it seems. On earth, we would be isolated for maybe a few months or years, but we'd always be able to go back home to our families and friends. Over here, we'd spend years and decades relatively alone, and the only people we got to encounter were the ones that we came with. If you hate someone, you'll have to spend a whole lifetime with them. If you loved someone, chances were that they were already taken. Life was rough from a social perspective.
On the other hand, the scientific research was truly wonderful. We discovered things about life in lower gravity that scientists on earth never would've even thought of. We found bacterial life, which was apparently celebrated for years on earth. Our other discoveries were less spectacular, but still important enough to relay back to earth.
Except for one. The discovery, which we made 100 years into our expedition, was so important that we couldn't risk letting people on earth know. It would've caused chaos. People would've clambored to be on the next flight to Mars, and they're would've been outrage in the scientific community. We discovered that humans are actually more or less immortal.
Given the relatively short lifespan of humans on earth, it was truly astounding when even the weakest of our expedition lived well into their 100s. Nobody knew what was happening. How could Jim with terminal cancer live not 10, not 20, but 75 years past his given 6 months? Who knows. People on earth were still dying at a normal pace. In fact, the average lifespan was projected to go *down*. Yet here we were on Mars, living well into our 200s.
When a new ship arrived, maybe one every 30 years, the new inhabitants would always be shocked at the sight of such a successful colony. Slowly, we would hint at and then tell them the discovery of longer lives, and maybe even immortality.
However, a disturbing trend grew. Whenever a new ship arrived, death rates would steadily rise for a couple of years before steadying. Nobody thought much of it, as the people who were song were well past their life expectancy anyway.
Back on earth, the energy crisis seemed to solve itself. A few years of large scale disasters lowered the population by almost a billion, and suddenly the energy consumption went down. New technologies were discovered, with or help, that could create energy more efficiently than ever before. Or seemed like earth always found a way through. Any problems that humans created were almost miraculously solved.
I, without even letting my family know, began to do my own research into this topic. It began to seem more and more clear to me that the earth was somehow surviving on the deaths of humans, and that death rates were lower when fewer people were alive. Being a scientist, I wanted to make sure that it was actually a cause and not some correlated facts.
I cross referenced the data we had from our own Mars records and the findings were concrete. Death rates are directly correlated to the number of living organisms on a certain planet. That explained the high death rates after an influx of new Mars colonizers. It explained the earth's ability to always fix itself.
There was only one thing to do. Present my findings to the colony. After explaining my hypothesis to the leader of our colony, I managed to get a chance to speak to everyone at once.
I was given a week to prepare my presentation. Making graphs and formatting data to look presentable took most of my time. I spent the rest of the week getting the auditorium ready. Setting up the audio and video systems took longer than expected, leaving me only one day for everything else that needed to get done.
On the big day, the crowd was gathered on the edge of their seats.
"A lot of you may be wondering why you are gathered here today," I began. "Well, I've got a huge surprise in store for all of you. Since the beginning of time, or at least human time, the life cycle has been an accepted part of our lives. We live, we die, we reproduce. Today, I am going to turn all of that upside down."
I presented all of the visuals I had prepared, and watched as astonished space pioneers tried to soak it all in.
"So do the scientists on earth know about this?" one curious child asked.
"No, not yet. I wanted the opinion of everyone here first. Some of us might not want others to know this secret. This segues perfectly into the next part of my presentation. We'll have a vote on whether or not to tell the people back on earth about this."
A debate ensued, with some arguing that we were there to report or findings to other people and let professionals handle the situation. Others said that the risk associated with letting others know was top great. In the end, the vote was 438-251 in favor of keeping it a secret.
"Ok so time for a Q&A session, as I'm sure many of you have questions," I said
A ruckus broke out as people shouted to have their questions heard. I answered them as u heard them.
"Yes this means that most of us will live in to our 200s, maybe even our 300s."
"Well not exactly. I still need to do more research, but it appears as if more people results in more deaths as the planets try to survive off of our life force."
"No I won't go home with you tonight. I can't. Maybe next time."
"Ok folks. This concludes my presentation. But before you leave, I have one final surprise for you."
I ran behind the stage, which I had previously equipped with a blast shield, pretending to look for something to show the crowd. I dug out a disposable cell phone from under all my computer equipment and dialled a number.
Crude, I know, but it's not like I had a bunch of high tech equipment available.
The signal took a while, but it reached the bombs I had painstakingly planted under the floor of the audotorium. With a loud boom, everything that was in that room was vaporized. After all, Mars won't steal my life force if I'm the only one left.
****
Feedback is welcome. I think I could've ended it better, but this ending is acceptable | 2015-06-29T19:49:20 | 2015-06-29T19:43:23 | 647 | 81 |
[WP] Darrell was a normal everyday idiot until he was bitten by a ware-genius. Now every full moon, he turns into a genius and is trying to solve the world's problems one night a month at a time. | Darrel woke up in the lab, disoriented. It had happened again.
He started working immediately, furiously powering through experiments. It was always so overwhelming - he could clearly see all the solutions to humanity's problems. But he just didn't have the time, or the support, to make the solutions come to fruition.
His monthly forays always felt so futile, but he persevered regardless.
****
Daylight was nearing, and he was nowhere closer to solving anything.
One person doing this, once a month, was simply not enough. What if he could have a partner? Two partners? Four, eight - *a million?*
He wondered about the first ware-genius that had bitten him. It had clearly done it while it while still in a heightened intellectual state. Had it reached the same conclusion?
What if everyone in the world could have this level of intellect once a month?
What if the cure for all of humanity's problems *was simply biting each and every single one of them?*
Darrell left the lab, checking his watch. He still had some time before sunrise.
He saw a group of people walking out of a club.
Darrel grinned.
*"Time to save the world."* | It all began with Einstein’s evil twin.
There I was crying quietly to myself under the oak tree by the lake after a day of being ridiculed by the local townsfolk. Out of nowhere, this Einstein lookalike came out of the woods rambling to himself. I told him to go away, but he then did something I’d never forget.
He bit me. Right on my chin.
Shrieking with pain I beat him senseless then ran off back to my house. I was half groggy from pain and half scared from the man. One night, I came home to my delight and horror as I did string theory when making spaghetti for a late supper. It didn’t take long to make a correlation to the full moon, to deduce the mythical were-genius that bit me.
Soon afterwards, I spent all my reminding money purchasing advanced textbooks and materials for my ingenious projects. The shopkeepers all laughed at me. But under my breath I promised that I would help the world and make them swallow their words.
***
I watched all the half-projects that I started every full moon of each month strewn on the table. Tear stains were visible on many of them, some even distorting the equations and words. I felt wetness in my eyes as I remembered sobbing over my hard work when the blanket of idiocy descended upon me.
A cure for cancer. A solution to ending world hunger. A way to balance out global warming.
Morosely, I scraped off the bits and pieces of metal of the incomplete plans into a bin. The dull clunk the lid made subtly portrayed my feelings as I sat down dejectedly.
So many humans, creatures and plants could have been saved if I had more than a day to work with. So much life could have been saved were it not for the curse of the ware-genius.
The chair fell over as I shoot up abruptly. Shaking my fists at the innocent-looking moon hanging in the sky, I yelled in frustration, cursing its name.
All thoughts of improving the world had vanished from my mind. Only ideas of various ways to destroy the accursed thing ran rampant inside me. I will do everything I can to stop it from crossing the horizon.
That’s it. A brilliant spark hit me right then and there. I didn’t need to stop the moon from going to the horizon. I just needed to make sure I wasn’t in the same timeframe when it went down.
A slow smiled tugged at my lips as I realized the device I should have created long ago. I would devise a machine that would project a time bubble around me and my laboratory. The effects of the full moon would never wane while the bubble was active.
The mass of diagrams for the former projects was scattered with a wipe of my arms. I whipped out my pencil and grabbed another piece of paper.
Above me the moon dipped towards the horizon, while I worked ceaselessly to get the most important parts done. I could feel my mind getting foggier by the minute, but instead of stopping and bawling my eyes out, I hurried on.
As daybreak broke, I put down my pencil with a sigh. I admired the outlines and sketches I created. The diagrams and calculations I drawn now looked so unfamiliar to me, but I knew they were completed.
Next month, I promised myself as I carefully scrolled up my work and put them in the safe on the wall. Next month, I will finish building the machine and then the world will know peace.
| 2016-08-17T08:04:20 | 2016-08-17T07:58:12 | 35 | 15 |
[WP] All politicians must wear Nascar like uniforms showing the logos of who is sponsoring their elections. Everyone is shocked when the President of the United States makes a speech wearing a new uniform. It's all blank except for one logo. | Nixon emerged from the Whitehouse.
At first, all that could be seen were a mass of black suits, each sporting a patch that said 'Oval Office' - but he slowly emerged from the mass.
Reporters crammed along the police barriers surged and writhed, all desperately trying to get the best picture, to get the first look, to break the news first:
Who were the people that backed the president, the man some said was the most powerful man in the world??
Nixon strode forward, still many yards off and too far away to make out any sponsors on his suit, and definitely out of earshot. Still, reporters shouted questions, snapped photos, and wrestled for a spot in the front.
The 'Advertisement Securement Statute' was big. Very big.
So big, that it had frontlined the news for the last month almost every night. Citizens loved it, because it made government officials more transparent. Corporations loved it, because it was free advertising. Politicians hated it.
And this moment was the biggest of all: who's hands was controlling the puppet of Nixon? Who was up there? Which industries, which groups, which executives, which bankers?
As Nixon approached the mass of cameras and microphones, a silent still fell over the land.
Nixon had only one patch on his suit. A poofy haired, old lady's face with a smile adorned his suit. Underneath the face, there was a name: Mom Corp | As the president came to the stand, he was not alone.
Of course, the president can never be alone, always protected by security and followed by advisors and behind them the trusted more-than-a-few. This time, however, the president was followed by just one man. The man had on him a green jacket, white undershirt, and brown slacks. All proper attire, sure, but there was one feature the press for this surprise broadcast wanted to know: Sponsor Logo. As is, the man in green does not have a logo, giving birth to talk among the assembled spectators. Lacking a logo, they turn their attention back to the president, wearing a new windbreaker that would normally be proudly displaying the numerous corporate badges of his supporters, turning the symbol or focal point of American interest in the company for these minutes into a strutting advertising page...
But this new windbreaker does not display the multitude of colored signage normally spotted. Instead, it displays but one symbol, unseen before then. Quick Googling by the reporters and many a political adversary turn up no relevant hits. The computer algorithms have failed them this one time and this shakes them, whether they show it or keep their mask. A short description seems in order, now. Orange or gold or some combination thereof, squared off into a corner at what would be the bottom right of a square, then extending halfway up the sides to turn suddenly into points parallel indicating towards the top-left. Nested between the points, in a pocket by the lower-right, a full circle. After the president makes it to the podium and the collection of individuals quiets, the president speaks.
"I wish to inform the country, and by extension hopefully the world, of a drastic new change about to come. Yes, we are already in the midst of a crisis, and the militaries and countries of the world have joined together wholeheartedly to combat this problem, which originated in this great country of ours."
"However... This new change, this... opportunity... has arisen not from this nation or any nation yet known to this world. I would like to introduce the man beside me to continue," As the said man in green taps them on the shoulder. "Wallace?"
The man identified as one "Wallace" steps up to the podium as the president steps down and heads into the back, whence they came.
"Earth is a beautiful planet, full of opportunities as we all know and is currently in the middle of a crisis. Aliens ply our waters, dig our sands, and are currently waging war on mankind. A war we alone are losing. A war we no longer have to be alone in. I speak as former Administrator for the Black Mesa Compound, where this all began due to the negligence of a few. I have come bearing the answer to our combined problems, not just alien - Overpopulation, starvation, lack of fresh water, the housing crisis - all things we would eventually fall to without help."
"And help I herald, from beyond the stars so recently turned hostile - A union of extraterrestrial beings who have achieved far more than we could ever hope for! And what do they ask of us in return for their help? Nothing more than to join them when we have matured further with their teachings, their guidance. Think! Not only to end this war not but to ascend!"
"Think on that if you will. Remember too that these benefactors may choose to stay their hand if we do not choose soon and annihilate ourselves by our own hand."
"The president wears their symbol. The symbol of the Universal Union."
And what has that brought us? Nearly twenty years of suffering under the iron fist of the Combine with Wallace Breen their willing puppet. What of earth? Well, unless something happens soon, I'm going to lose hope. Well, end of the line. See ya. | 2016-09-19T19:39:09 | 2016-09-19T18:38:45 | 32 | 24 |
[WP] Due to a loophole in the system, people can escape hell and get to heaven after death. You go to hell and all you see is Satan, just sitting there playing the harmonica. Everyone left him and now he's all alone. | “Next stop, the inner circle of Hell,” our tour guide angel announced in a cheery voice. I looked at my wife and raised my eyebrows. She took my hand and patted it.
“Probably where you would have ended up if you hadn’t met me,” she whispered.
Our cloud train came to a stop before a large glass window. Beyond the window was a cave, lit by scattered embers and bordered by a river of lava. A large throne dominated the room, and on the throne slouched a young man, slowly swinging his foot while he played a harmonica.
“Here he is,” beamed our guide, “Satan! Once the highest of angles, he betrayed God and was cast down to the deepest dungeon in Hell. He is by far our most popular attraction, though Hitler follows a close second.”
There was a beat of silence, followed by a general rumbling of discontent among our group of Heavenly tourists.
“Doesn’t seem so bad to me,” a large Texan with a white hat commented. “I can see fire and brimstone, but I expected more agony.”
“He just looks bored,” said a gaunt pious man beside him.
“How come he has a harmonica?” asked an old lady. “We were just given harps.”
“They probably gave Hitler a damn piano,” said her friend.
Other comments and complaints piled on till our guide held up her hand.
“Don’t be deceived,” she cautioned. “You are witnessing the most terrible of tortures.”
“What? Sitting on a chair playing a harmonica?” The Texan was outraged. “Sounds more like a timeout than torture.”
“I can’t believe I prayed and fasted my whole life to avoid this,” muttered a monk in a robe next to me.
“Trust me,” said the guide. “You wouldn’t want this. This is the result of a great many punishment trials of hellish punishments, and it is by far the most effective. We tried continuous whirlwinds, winter storms, attacking dogs, massive weights, slime and sludge, fire, boiling blood, petrification, whipping, cess pits, drowning, more fire, freezing, and a host of other things. All of them were considered too easy by those in Heaven. Worse, some of the victims actually seemed to be enjoying their punishment. You see, we are dealing with quite depraved individuals here. We were losing hope of ever finding a suitable punishment for those sent to Hell, when we came across a completely new idea. We just left them alone."
“Just left them alone?” the Texan spluttered.
“Yes. We left them completely and utterly alone. No interactions, no stimulation, no food, no drink, no company, nothing except a single musical instrument to remind them of what they were missing out on.”
“For how long?” asked the old woman.
“For eternity.”
This time, our silence stretched for many long beats. While we watched. Satan let his hand drop to his side. His fingers opened and the harmonica fell to the floor. He let out a huge sigh and stared vacantly at the wall of the cave.
Someone began to cry.
“How did you ever come up with such a cruel punishment?” I asked.
“We didn’t,” said our guide angel. “We copied it from you all. Solitary, isn’t that what you call it?”
| He followed the lilting notes down empty corridors crusted with flecks of blood and gore.
He walked past cages crafted of bone that stood wide open, past the scattered and abandoned tools of torture. It was all too visceral to provide him with the illusion that he was drifting in some never-ending nightmare and would wake up any moment now, safe in his bed and alive.
"Jackson Hale," he heard a drawling voice say as he turned the corner. The music he'd followed for the past two days - somehow, its faint notes had reverberated maddeningly through the place since he'd arrived - paused, and he looked into the eyes of the player.
Calm dark eyes, startlingly ordinary, all things considered. The player was wearing a sharply tailored black suit. The material was a black so deep that Jack felt he could lose himself in it, could touch it and be swallowed right up in something nameless, something that was waiting to envelope him and tear him -
"Hey, boy," the player said, snapping his fingers in front of Jack, who blinked and focused on the present again. "I don't have time to play with you right now. I'm playing the harmonica. So. Want to get going? Join the others? They all left, you know..."
"Name's Satan, by the way," the man said, sitting down again on a twisting chair of bone stretched with a thin material that looked nauseatingly like skin. "Lucifer. Beelzebub. Fuck, who even cares anymore."
He picked up the harmonica again and resumed play. Jack watched him mutely, and finally blurted out the question at the forefront of his mind. Perhaps this was some dream, after all. Satan playing a harmonica *had* to be a dream. In which case he probably wouldn't die from asking a question.
"They left? How could they leave? Isn't this...Hell?" Jack asked. "And I'd have thought you'd be more..."
"Demon-y?" Satan asked, his fingers pausing again. "Yeah, I was. Had a voice that could shatter you apart, and everything. All my powers started to fade once they left. I can't even compel anyone to obey me anymore. Once that happened, even my demons left due to some blasted loophole. Bastards. All in Heaven now, I suppose. Or tossed into Limbo. Who knows what the big guy does with the damned once they get there?"
"Now I guess I'm just a guy playing a harmonica," Satan said, resuming the same tune Jackson had heard repeatedly over the past few days.
"Don't you know anything else?" Jack asked, sitting down beside the guy. He seemed harmless enough, really. It was actually rather nice here. Quiet.
"Oh, no, afraid not," the devil said, grinning at him. "There were thousands of guitarists, but a curious lack of harmonica players. So this is your Hell now. Listening to this song, over and over again."
It was starting to grate on Jack's ears. He knew many other songs, better songs - he'd been in a band, in his life, and had always taken pride in the number of instruments he could play. Part of him was itching to show the devil. But the other part had latched onto what he'd said: there was a loophole. And chances were everyone he'd ever loved and who'd left him was in Heaven. Perhaps he'd get a second chance once he got there. If there was anyplace where anything would be forgiven, that was it.
"What is the loophole?" Jack asked. There was nothing to lose by asking, was there? He said he'd lost his powers.
"Why don't you show me some of those other songs you know before I tell you, and you can go?" the devil asked.
"How did you know I play?" Jack said, frowning at the wide grin on Satan's face. "I thought you said your powers were gone?"
"I lied. Force of habit, I guess. C'mon, show me?" he asked. "I'm alone here. At least help me entertain myself."
There was a pleading glint in his eyes that softened Jack's resolve to get going. "All right, fine."
"You'll tell me everything you know? Promise?" Satan pressed him.
"Yes, yes, I promise," he said. "Give me that and I'll play you some stuff. But you'll tell me the loophole, afterwards?"
"Sure thing," the devil said, and handed him the harmonica. He clapped vigorously after Jack had played through his entire repertoire.
"Well, there you have it. Can you tell me now?" Jack said.
"Why so hasty, boy? You said you'd tell me everything you know. Everything. That means every scrap of knowledge you've collected in your human life. Then I'll tell you, and you can go," Satan said, playing one of the new songs he'd just learnt with a small smile on his face. "Pity you came here after the others had left. They'd have told you without a price."
He chuckled at Jack's stunned expression. "Binding promise, son, no getting out of anything you promised me directly. And yeah, I lied about the powers thing, too. I really missed you humans. So gullible. It's rather sweet. But come, talk to me while I play. I've missed hearing another voice, truth be told. And you have a lot to tell me, don't you?"
--------
Hope you enjoyed my story! You can find more of my work on /r/Inkfinger/. | 2017-02-01T10:14:39 | 2017-02-01T09:11:17 | 130 | 19 |
[WP] The high school hunger games pits classes against each other. You use anything in the class to battle. The wood working class create spears and shields, the chemistry class use chemicals, the cooking class use knives. Meanwhile you're stuck in English class...
Edit: Feel free to write about people in other classes like math, P.E, etc. It doesn't just have to be English class. Many of the responses were great so I would love to see what the story would be like in other classes
| *Bzzzt*
"The cooking course has been eliminated"
Laughter came resounding down the halls. "Ha, we got this in the bag! The only class left that might be a threat is English and they don't even have any weapons!" Many other voices shouted in agreement with the large grizzled senior, each student had a wooden shield and a sharp bloody spear. The wood working class advanced through the halls.
"Ya know we ha-" the leader was unable to continue because his face was flattened by a flying dictionary.
"Sticks and stones my break my bones but words will never hurt me, my ass."
| Nobody really knew what to do. After all, it was an actual battle; people were expected to fall.
I had a lot of classes, useful ones as well. I had the basics, English, History, Science, Math. I had two other 'fun' classes as well, woodshop and welding. It wasn't a surprise when they announced that the class you'd be fighting with would be your fourth period class.
English. I had to do something with... English?
Before long, we had run out of ideas to brainstorm. No, we couldn't build a weapon, since it had to pertain to english. No, we couldn't make sharp pens, because the woodworking class had already done something similar.
Everyone had run out of ideas. We thought we were screwed. Amidst the confusion and disappointment, I had an idea. No, I wasn't going to make a weapon. Instead, I was going to use my limitations to my advantage.
I took my pen and wrote on a nearby blank paper.
*To whom it may concern...*
***1 Week Later***
Everyone was ready. I was ready. In 5 minutes, we were going to be let out of our classes. The bloodthirst of my classmates was apparent, as their subject limitations caused them to use heavy textbooks as blunt force weapons. For sure it didn't stand against the woodshop's Spears and Swords, or the Chem Lab's Hydrochloric acid, or the drafting class' trebuchet, but we had the secret weapon.
The gun went off. Everyone sprinted out of their rooms.
Like a Civil War battle, everyone lined up at the center of the school, weapons drawn. It didn't take very long for my plan to get in action.
With the help of the lockpick the modeling class made, we were able to bust into the school's office. Everyone immediately funneled inside. Once the office was full, woodshop nailed their spears to the doorway, blocking any entry. It wasn't necessary though; theater was too busy occupying the guards around the school so they wouldn't notice the break in. Once we were in, we dropped all of our weaponry, except for the Ag class. The lockpick was used once again to break into the Supervisor's office.
And with one big swoop, the scythe took his head off.
It could've been a bloodthirsty battle; people could have died, kids slaughtered, weapons free.
But with the power of a few words, I was able to convince the school that maybe, we shouldn't fight each other. Rather, we could fight the corrupt ideology.
*Perhaps, in the anxiety of the school battle, we should question why we need to kill each other. Would it be better to be the last one standing, or would it be better to be the first one helping?*
*~SevenS. Be careful out there. Convince the others. This will only work if we are united.*
| 2017-05-10T11:09:49 | 2017-05-10T10:29:20 | 62 | 30 |
[WP] It's been 30 days since the nuclear war with North Korea and you are beginning to lose hope. There has been no radio broadcast, no military response, no aid. Suddenly, a man appears at your door. He is from the IRS, the only surviving branch of the federal government, and he is here to collect.
Inspired by [an old NYT article ](http://www.nytimes.com/1989/03/28/business/nuclear-war-plan-by-irs.html) about the existence of an IRS plan to resume collections 30 days after a nuclear war. | "Canned goods, ammunition, or precious metals. We've been over this already, sir." The man in the tattered Sears suit was well past annoyed and graduating to angry. The large men behind him in equally cheap suits didn't look any happier.
"And like I told you - I don't have anything. I'm living off of scraps and protein shakes." I gesture to the barren kitchen. "Want some Isopure? Help yourself."
He looks around again, then nods to the bruisers in the back. They start to wander down the hall. The larger of the two stopped in front of my closed basement door and reached for the knob.
"Hey!" I said, moving towards them. "You can't just barge in here and go through my shit. I have rights."
"HAD rights, sir." Sears suit rubs the bridge of his nose. "Continuity of government, National Security Policy Directive 51, yadda yadda. You know what happened to the President - God rest his soul - and the Vice President, Speaker of the House, Secretary of State... As I told you when we got here, the IRS is the last standing branch of the government of this great country. We will uphold law and order. And to do so, you must pay your taxes on time."
"Fuck you and fuck your continuity of government. I just paid my annual taxes before the war," I said.
"I don't have any record of that. Do you have a receipt?" he asked, barely containing the sarcasm dripping from the question.
"Well, yeah, on my computer." I looked around at the darkened room. "You're welcome to take it from there if you can turn it on. Electricity is a little scarce these days."
He sighed. "Sir, you're making this more difficult than it has to be. We want what we're owed, nothing more."
"Fine," I said, pointing to the kitchen. Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum walked back down the hallway and got to work.
I watched as they tore through what little I had in the cabinets - some Ramen noodles, a few cans of soup, even the protein powder. He gave me a handwritten receipt that said I had paid my taxes for the month in full. And then they left.
I can't help but wonder when they'll stop falling for the angry guy with the bare cupboards routine. I worry they'll check the basement and find the storage room behind the false wall.
But you know what? They're the government. They're not that smart. I'm pretty sure it'll be ok. | Alright, I guess I will kick this off then because I am excited to see what people come up with. Shoutout to u/Ghosttwo for providing me with [the inspiration](https://www.reddit.com/r/YouShouldKnow/comments/6takyx/comment/dljcvoq?st=J69Z02I0&sh=4c7cfec9)!
**Story time:**
A frail man dressed in human bones and shredded tires was sitting in a broken lawn chair in a small field of debris. His skin was jaundiced and he appeared to have been waiting for quite some time to get his money order processed. I squinted my eyes to get a better look at him. There was no movement. Was he sleeping or dead? I was too weak to care, so I pushed the thought out of my mind and approached the IRS checkpoint.
A large, ill-tempered black woman rhythmically drummed her press-on nails against the old toilet she used as a desk.
"Take a number" she stated flatly, "and wait by the rubble pile until you are called." She lifted the toilet seat and retrieved a dead leaf, then scrawled something on it with a piece of charcoal and handed it to me: one thousand, nine hundred and seventy-two. Surely she can't be serious. "LORD ALMIGHTY!" she exclaimed to no one in particular, then snatched the tattered leaf back out of my hand, tore off a small piece, and handed it back. I looked around in disbelief, confirming what I already knew. There was no one within sight besides me, her, and the emaciated body in the lawn chair that I passed on the way in. Probably no one else within a dozen miles. Confused, I asked "Is this the total number of people you have seen here? I'm the only one around except for the dying man in the rubble pile, not many of us left around here..."
Beads of sweat appeared above her eyes as she wrinkled her face in displeasure. She began to quiver with rage, then raised a corpulent hand and started to snap her sausage-like fingers while bobbing her head from side to side. "Did. I. Not. Make. Myself. Clear?" She carried on before I had a chance to answer and started to fan herself with a scrap of plywood. She looked to the sky and bellowed, "Lord, tell me where this child went so wrong! Does he not understand that we have rules and regulations!? Does he not know how to wait to take his damn turn!?" She turned back to me. "Take your bony ass over to that lawn chair, sit down, and shut your pie hole! DO NOT come back over until your number is called."
She scribbled something down on the small square she had torn out of my leaf, then grabbed a rock and an old finger bone. She had her back to me as she pounded away at something, then turned around with a smug look on her face and stepped aside so I could admire her work. She had hammered the finger bone into a tree stump to tack up the leaf shred, upon which she had written: "1".
"Number one, you may now come to the counter! Number one!"
The frail man stirred at the sound of her voice. His movements were pained and his hands shook as he withdrew a small patch of cloth from the shredded tire around his waist. It was finally time! He would be able to pay for the medicine he needed to treat the radiation sickness that was ravaging his body. It had been six days since he received his number. He had to be next. Delicately he unfolded the cloth to check his number. One thousand, nine hundred and seventy-one.
"Number one, last chance!" The frail man looked at his number in disbelief. He raised his hand towards me and opened his mouth to speak, then shuddered and collapsed into a heap. I heard a terrible rattle as the air in his lungs escaped for the last time. Then silence.
When no one approached, she waddled back behind the old toilet and let out a deep sigh as she lowered her ample rear onto a cinder block and sat down. She opened the top of the toilet reservoir and removed a yellowed and stained copy of "Seventeen" magazine, then turned her back to me and began to read through it. I looked down at my number again, which still read "1,972", and let out an exasperated sigh. Why did it have to be the IRS?
EDIT: yeah, I just realized I kind of blew off the IRS guy showing up and went straight to a world run by the IRS. Was not planning to write a story but got inspired so it is what it is | 2017-08-12T17:03:10 | 2017-08-12T17:02:29 | 153 | 10 |
[WP] You come to the end of your rather mundane life. Upon death you are able to see your statistics. As you are reviewing them everything seems normal until you happen upon your kill/death ratio. 7,334:1. | "Hold the fuck up." I said incredulously. "That *counts* ?
"Yep." intoned the the all encompassing voice. "Whose fault did you think it would be?"
"The kids', probably! I didn't force them to do anything, it was all of their own accord." I reasoned.
"They were infants, most of them. It was impossible for them to know any better." he said with absolute authority.
The voice was hard to argue with. It was like trying to debate astrophysics with Stephen Hawking. I know that he knows better and the longer I keep it up, the bigger an ass I'll make of myself. But I'd spent most my life and a chunk of my fortune disputing this very claim, and I'll be damned if I stop here.
"If not the kids' then it was the parents' fault. It was their negligence. They should have known better, kept a better eye on their child, taught them better. Used some common *fucking* sense maybe!" I said in exasperation.
"The parents of those that died were not negligent. They were very capable parents. But they were only human. It is impossible to keep a watchful eye over them in every waking moment. All it took was a single moments attention elsewhere for this to happen. It is impossible to pass blame unto these greiving souls."
"Then how is it my fault!? My inventions were harmless. They were never meant to hurt anyone; they were supposed to bring joy into peoples lives!"
"Yet you decided to do so through "surprise". A surprise that proved lethal to those unprepared. You should have instilled mor caution. That is why their deaths have been placed upon your slate." the voice stated in finality. "It has been ruled so here in The Beyond as well as the American court of law."
I resigned. There was no point in arguing anymore. I'd lost this fight in the last world, why should I have thought it would be any different in this one.
As I was dropped into The Pit, in my last fleeting moments of sanity, I still didn't feel that I was wrong though. Falling away from The Beyond, I shouted my last words of defiance.
"Why the fuck should I have to put a warning label on fucking Kinder eggs!" | “That can’t be right.” I gestured to the numbers on the floating screen, gently bobbing in peace despite the seriousness of the message it carried. “It just can’t. I never killed anyone.”
I looked to the ball of soft light floating to my left. It had dimmed when I started to speak, but brightened again as a voice echoed from some unseen orifice.
“Are you quite sure?” It said, its voice an indecipherable halfway point between man and woman, happy and sad, excited and bored.
“Yes.” I jabbed a finger at the numbers in anger. “Yes, I’m quite sure! I never killed anyone!”
“A moment, please.” The ball dimmed briefly, then began to flash rapidly for several long seconds. When the light once again grew constant, it began to speak.
“December 16th, 1963. You decided not to tip at Johnson’s Cafe. Zero point zero two percent.”
“What?” I tried to interject, but the voice kept going.
“October 22nd, 1954. You decline Susie’s invitation to the Halloween party. Twelve percent. May 3rd, 1983, you smoked a cigarette while reading to your daughter on the porch. Zero point zero zero zero five percent.”
“Hold on, hold on.” I said, trying to catch the ball’s attention. “What are you talking about?”
It was dimmed in silence again.
“What are you trying to say?” I continued, thankful it had stopped that monotone drone. “I didn’t tip someone? What?”
“Your decision was determined to directly factor into your waitress’ poverty. Size of influence based on potential monetary value lost determined to be approximately zero point zero two percent.”
“Percent of what?!” I jabbed my finger at the screen again. “Percent of that?”
“Percent of one life, yes.” The voice was still calm and neutral, the floating light still a warm, soft glow, but I couldn't feel any warmth from it.
“That doesn’t make sense.” I said. “You can’t put a price on a life like that.”
The floating light began to flash in some rapid calculation again. “Yes. We can.”
I stared hard at the ball, trying to find some shred of emotion to read. Something to help me understand what it wanted. Of course, it gave nothing away.
“What about Susie?” I asked, already nervous what the ball would say. “Susie Murphy from high school? What’s she got to do with this?”
“Susie Murphy, born June 7th, 1937, deceased September 9th, 1956.” It said. The vagueness of its voice was beginning to bother me, the total lack of emotion increasingly off-putting. “Cause of death: Suicide, depression.”
I was stunned. I had left town after graduation, and I’d just lost track of her. I’d lost track of most everyone, really. Mom and Dad would keep me updated on my some of my old classmates from time to time, at least the ones that stayed around, but they’d never mentioned Susie. I barely remembered her name until just now! She was just some girl I knew in high school.
“So?” I choked out, trying to shake off my surprise. “Yeah, Susie Murphy.”
“Your refusal was a deciding factor in her death. Judged approximately twelve percent influence.”
I had expected it, as soon as the ball mentioned how she died, but it hurt all the same. Twelve percent? It felt like so little and so much, all at the same time. All over a few words I barely thought about years ago.
I didn’t dare ask the ball for any more. I didn’t know who it would bring up, what my influence would have been. Listlessly I let the screen continue, scrolling through statistics I barely registered. After some time the screen dinged and disappeared, as if it had never been.
“Judgement.” The ball’s voice broke the silence. “Averaged 15% daily. No other outstanding achievements or demerits. Judged within acceptable average. Please proceed.”
A gate opened, a gleaming steel gate I was sure had not been there when I woke up here. The light floated towards it, and after a time I began to follow it.
| 2017-10-21T20:59:34 | 2017-10-21T20:54:31 | 1,068 | 277 |
[WP] Humans once wielded formidable magical power but with over 7 billion of us on the planet now Mana has spread far to thinly to have any effect. When hostile aliens reduces humanity to a mere fraction the survivors discover an old power has begun to reawaken once again. | "Hang on, so there's some fixed amount of power and it's divided equally among all humans?"
"Yep."
"And you, a strange alien creature, have culled the human population in order to increase the power granted to any one individual?"
"Exactly. Do you want to try out your new powers?"
"I've a few questions first actually -- as a more advanced intelligence you're certainly aware of evolution, of the fact that all life forms here on earth share a common ancestor, of the fact that distinct species arise by a process of natural selection, where only those which adapt best to their environment survive?"
"Go on..."
"And you're telling me that the human species possess some special access to magical powers, with the magnitude of each individual's access _depending explicitly on the number of other alive humans_?
"Yeah. Is there a problem?"
"You bet there's a problem. What we call human life is unavoidably arbitrary. If we draw up the family tree showing the ancestry of all humans, at some point we make it back to some gross slime that definitely isn't human, and so at some point between today and whenever the slime was around we need to choose some generation and say 'Ok, after this we're human'. Maybe before we were neanderthal, or what have you, but neanderthal is just a label we made up too, every species is. You're telling me that whether or not an organism is labeled human actually has (1) some effect on the organism, and, worse, (2) some effect on every other organism we call human. But as I've argued, these labels are completely arbitrary."
"You know you can fly now? Don't you want to try that out?"
"We even have a maximally human organism, against which all other organisms are compared to test their human-ness? It's Carl Linnaeus -- in honour of all the work he did on species [we locked his skeleton up somewhere](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Type_(biology)#Lectotype) and granted him the title of Ur-human. Which means that everyone alive today is slightly less human than some family of Swedish nerds in the 1700s. And if we'd happened to have chosen someone else, we'd have a different ordering of humanity in terms of human-ness."
"You can teleport! You could go somewhere else, somewhere far far away, _right now_. Wouldn't that be fun?"
"Worse, we haven't stopped evolving. At some point in the future we'll be so far from Carl Linnaeus that we'll need a new label to describe us. Do those powers disappear then? Once we arbitrarily decide to call ourselves something else? Seems hard to believe really."
"Oh My God do you know this is why no one has bothered to contact you people all this time? I'm leaving. Do us all a favour and don't go developing any sort of space exploration program. If I see a human come anywhere near our star system I will see to their Zapping myself."
"How will you decide whether the organism is human or not?"
[See also](http://slatestarcodex.com/2014/11/21/the-categories-were-made-for-man-not-man-for-the-categories/) | Kevin listened to the Oracle while sitting on the cloth that covered the pile of rubble beneath it. He's heard the tale more times than he can count: on that fateful day, 25th December of the year 2017, fleets of starships darkened the sky, and leveled the human civilization.
The oracle spoke of times when humans were plenty, the time when people would gather in the weekends for drinks, the time when people fought amongst themselves over petty differences… They're all gone now. The aliens wiped them all out. All those years of hard work, all the things they have learned over time, the monuments they managed to build were all erased when the fleet arrived, and, according to the Oracle, “glassed the planet”. The oracle never spoke about how many were killed, perhaps even he doesn't know. He did however, spoke in detail as to the destruction of civilizations: How the tallest buildings erupted in flames, how the people simply turned to ash without even burning, how none managed to find out a way to deal with the aliens despite many of them spending thousands of hours practicing how to fight them…
The next part always dreads Kevin. The oracle would move close to him, ignite the candles in the hut with a motion of his hand, and tell Kevin it is his destiny to overthrow the aliens, before telling him to put out the candles without leaving his seat.
Kevin sat as still as he can. This is going to be another failure, another time he would disappoint the Oracle and his people… It's not like he doesn't have any idea on what the oracle wants him to do. Kevin knew the oracle meant for him to create a gust of wind with his mind, similar to how the Oracle lit the candles with his mind.
“Oracle…” Kevin said while lowering his head in shame, “you know I can't do it, I've been trying since the first time I was here. There's just nothing I can do...”
Kevin remained in his seat, concentrating on creating a wind to put out all the candles. He had been doing this dance every week since he was ten. And now, five years later, he still hasn't been able to accomplish this simple feat.
Kevin continued to think of the wind, a strong breeze came through the door, blowing out all the candles. Just as Kevin was wondering whether this meant success for him, the Oracle signaled him to hide under the rug he was sitting on, before doing so himself. Kevin knew the alien patrols are nearby. Unlike putting out the candles, hiding from aliens is never something he had trouble with. Although he is having a tingly feeling, something is not right.
And then he realized, none of them packed the candles. He pondered what he should do, as he heard the footsteps of three aliens jumping onto the ground. Each step they take, their greaves make a sound that warns everyone nearby of their presence. The message is clear -- be out of their sight, or be killed.
The footsteps growing ever closer. The aliens will search the area when they see the candles. Kevin thought of his next step. There are none. Had he been able to put out the candles earlier…
The scream of the Oracle pulled Kevin back to reality. As he peeked from a hole in his cover, he saw one of the aliens, in his shiny silver armor, holding the Oracle in the air. The other two were stand next to him, crossing their arms, probably enjoying the sight of their comrade killing an old man.
Kevin thought of what he should do: continue to hide, and let the aliens take his mentor? Or would he try to fight them, and die. The Oracle would never wanted him to throw his life away for anyone, that he knows. He is important to overthrowing the aliens. But what good would he be if he didn't save the man that taught him everything. What good would he be if he died here...
Another scream. Kevin two pieces of debris, got out of his cover, and hurled them at the aliens. The aliens stood steadfast, letting their armor deflect the rocks. Kevin picked up another one, threw it at them again, nothing. Another one, and another…
Until his arms grew tired and his couldn't pick up anymore rocks. The aliens looked at one another, as one of them produced a pistols from his holster, and began taking aim at Kevin…
*Why am I so useless*
Kevin thought to himself as he stared the alien in the eyes, prepared to die, he is useless anyway.
The alien squeezed the trigger, a blue bolt of energy launched at Kevin. He instinctively raised his hand at the bolt. Just as the bolt was about to hit him, he felt a warm wave of energy concentrate on his hand, flowing to his palm, and outward to the incoming projectile.
The bolt hit his hand, but it didn't hurt. And the feeling of warmth continued flowing through Kevin.
Kevin concentrated, looking at the aliens who are going to kill his friend. He let the energy wave concentrate on his hand again. Except this time the feeling is much more intense. He looked at the aliens one more time, and unleashed the wave of energy at them. He watched as his assailants come into contact with the wave of blue energy, and burned to ash in mere seconds.
Kevin rushes towards the Oracle and helped him get up. Together, they packed up their camp and headed home. | 2017-12-06T21:27:18 | 2017-12-06T20:39:17 | 32 | 13 |
[WP] You invented a serum that lets you communicate with animals. You decide to test it first. It doesn't seem to work, until you hear a spider ask, "Hey Roomie! How was your day?!" | "Hey Roomie! How was your day?!" the spider inquired, cheerfully. She was a big one -- *tegenaria gigantea,* a giant house spider. Harmless to humans, helpful in controlling insect pests.
"Bad." I said, with a sigh, as I regarded the empty ampule from which I'd drawn the zoophonic serum. "Something's very wrong here."
"Aw." the spider said, skittering across the table and resting a comforting foreleg on my hand. "What's wrong?"
"Well, I was trying to make scientific history with zoophonic serum -- my own formulation of designer neurotransmitters and artificial peptides designed to render to me sensitive to the neural activity of non-human creatures. I hoped to be able to use it to, in layman's terms, *talk to animals."*
The spider raised her forelegs in a passable imitation of a human's spread arms. "Seems like you got a hole in one then, buddy. Congratulations!" Then she cocked her tiny head curiously. "What's the problem?"
"The problem, little friend," I explained, "Is that this interaction we're having is nonsensical. You're a *spider.* A solitary arachnid predator, whose extremely limited cognition is almost entirely specialized for *catching bugs.* You don't have social instincts or empathy, much less a concept of a what a 'roomie' is."
"Ohhhhhh." the spider said, bobbing her head in understanding. "So, what *is* happening right now, then?"
"I injected myself with an untested psychoactive compound designed to cross the blood-brain barrier, and as a result I am now *vividly* hallucinating." I replied, with a sigh.
"That's bad luck." the spider, agreed, glumly. Then she brightened, as a whirling iridescent doorway made from the shells of a thousand singing oysters materialized on the tabletop beside her. "Well, as long as you're at it, want to go on a *magical adventure* in the musical kingdom of Molluscia?"
"I guess." I assented, and as I gingerly held her foreleg between two fingers, we leapt together into the spinning rainbow portal. | Unbelievable, the serum had worked!After piggybacking off of centuries of research stemming from Dr. Thomas Muffet’s work in the 1500s I had finally created what he could only begin to dream of. I collapsed in tears on the floor thinking of my ancestors before me, and my late father, that had all devoted their entire lives to developing what I now had within reach. Oh, the implications of this serum! We finally have the ability to communicate with spiders, and unlock the secrets of their fascinating webs and venom. The medical implications of being able to harness the power of their venom to prevent strokes, to the engineering implications of the remarkable tension displacement qualities of their silk. My life’s work finally comes to an-
“Uh, are you okay?” A familiar voice pulled me from my thoughts. I had forgotten to respond to the company at hand.
“Oh, yes! Yes! I am so sorry, it’s just that I have waited for this moment for my entire life.” I replied as I picked myself up from the floor and wiped my face with the sleeve of my lab coat.
“Oh good, I was worried for a second there” said the spider “and yeah, I know what you mean. It’s nice to finally hear a response. I’ve been trying to talk to you for, like, the past year, and you just kept ignoring me. I just thought you were deaf or something, but I figured I’d keep trying to ask you how your day was to at least pretend we know each other, since we live together and all.”
“I see. Well I sure am glad you kept trying to talk to me. I’ve been trying to talk to you my entire life, but see, I never had the ability to until today. I created this serum that allows me to communicate with you now- and I have so much to talk to you about. I just can’t believe this is-“
Grrrrrrrruuuuuurggggggghhhhh
My thoughts were again interrupted, this time by my own stomach that begged for food. Believing I was on the brink of perfecting the serum, I had locked myself in my lab and forgotten to eat for the past couple days. I was now painfully reminded of this fact by the sharp pains in my abdomen.
“If you’ll excuse me for a moment I need to get some food. I haven’t eaten in days.” I said to the spider before quickly dashing upstairs into the kitchen. I opened the refrigerator and frowned. I hadn’t restocked on groceries for awhile, and the only readily edible item I could find was a container of cottage cheese, or as dad used to call them “curds and whey”. The only reason I kept them in the fridge is because they reminded me of him, and were fairly nutritious. They were never exactly my favorite food. Oh well, no time to be picky now. Suddenly aware of how ravenous I was, I grabbed the container and a spoon and began shoveling it into my mouth as I hurried back downstairs.
“Welcome back!” the spider chimed as I came back into the lab and sat down on a stool.
“Man, am I hungry” I garbled between bites. I quickly finished the small tub of cottage cheese and set the container down, my hunger pains dulled slightly for the moment.
“Anyway” I continued “I’ve worked my entire life for this moment, and have so much to discuss with you. You see, the venom and web making skills you spiders possess is absolutely amazing. Your venom is the key to so many medical advances because of its chemical properties. Additionally, your silk has astounding physical properties that can be harnessed and used for a myriad of engineering purposes. The problem was that before today, without being able to communicate with you all, there was no way to ask you to produce these things for us. Years of research has shown that there is no way for us to mechanically stimulate production of venom or silk. So, I guess what I really want to ask you is, what is the secret to the production of your venom and silk?”
The spider looked up at me in silence for a moment. I couldn’t read the expression on its face- mostly because spiders don’t really have faces, or at least faces like humans have that can convey emotions.
Finally, the spider spoke. “Well, Miss Muffet, I hope I don’t scare you away. However, the truth is that we’re only able to access conscious control of venom and silk production after we’ve successfully killed and eaten a human victim.” | 2018-09-21T23:49:24 | 2018-09-21T23:25:05 | 148 | 18 |
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