prompt stringlengths 20 5.8k | chosen_story stringlengths 226 10k | rejected_story stringlengths 227 9.43k | chosen_timestamp timestamp[ns]date 2012-07-26 17:01:55 2022-12-31 14:34:19 | rejected_timestamp timestamp[ns]date 2012-07-26 14:23:36 2022-12-31 12:20:41 | chosen_upvotes int64 14 23.1k | rejected_upvotes int64 10 4.26k |
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[WP] You're the wizard's apprentice, and of course the first few years involve running errands and doing other tasks. He hands you a daily schedule, but to your confusion the total hours for the different tasks add up to more than 24. "Figure it out" He says, "I chose you for a reason." | I was a good mathematician. Perhaps one of the greatest to have graduated the Dimensional Academy. So it didn’t take long for me to do the math.
“Wait, this adds up to 45 hours, Professor.” I addressed the middle aged woman, dressed in a space suit adorned with complex equations, who had been waving her hand over an egg, transforming it into a genetically engineered, fire-breathing dragon. She was a Wizard, one of the mightiest beings in the galaxy, and I was her student and apprentice.
The Wizards has always been a curious lot, bending time and space to fulfill their own ends. A single wave of their hand could summon a private dimension stocked with terraforming machines, transforming a barren planet into a magnificent paradise ripe for settlement.
They’d upended entire starfleets by freezing them in place, tying down the very molecules against gravity fields.
They were powerful, rivaling perhaps the Chaos Gods of long lost legends, or even the ancient Trinity of Force, Light, and Dark.
But, even they had never dared to meddle with time reversal. When they tried, the repercussions had been terrible. Dead zones beyond all time and space, planets stuck in a continuous loop of destruction and creation, infinite energy trapped in infinitely small masses, ripping open hyperspace lanes.
So, looking at my schedule, well, I was confused. 45 hours of work? Even if I didn’t sleep at all, I’d still be unable to do this.... Oh.
OOHHHHHHHH.....
I opened up my notebook, and my doctoral thesis notes on long range teleportation. Focusing my own space time pocket into a long thin strand, I linked my house’s front door to Vermillion, 3 star units out from its mother star, with a day of 90 hours.
“Nicely done!” My teacher laughed. | "But Merlin. This ain't Harry Potter! I can't just jump back in time," Roland moaned as he followed Merlin who was gathering things.
"Of course you can't jump back in time. Time travel is not allowed magic. If you did that, you'd be executed on the spot. On the spot, I tell you," the old man said, finally taking his wizard hard as a last item.
"Come on, Merlin. I can't do that. This is impossible," Roland moaned one last time.
"Figure it out," Merlin said as he took his staff and made quick circles with it. "I chose you for a reason," he added, taking one last more in-depth look at Roland. With a sharp smile and staff hitting the ground, he shrank into nothingness.
"Dammit," Roland frowned, opening the list again. It wasn't a long list. It had 3 things on it. But the problem wasn't the amount, but what they were.
"Get a unicorn's horn without killing the unicorn just before unicorn turns into a horse. That's something that happens like once a century," Roland frowned, walking circles and finally landing on the nearby chair.
"Grow the same banana 10 times and get its final content into a container. Don't eat the banana as you last time did. Winky face," Roland read out the second thing once more. He did remember the last time he ate the ten-times peeled banana. It took some time before Merlin decided to revert him back from the monkey. Humans are lucky that they can peel banana only once.
"Go get my grandmother's cookies that she's hiding behind her pillow," Roland said out loud the final thing. Perhaps that was the scariest task of them all, yet easiest. Then again, one does not simply visit Merlin's grandmother and steal her cookies.
 
Roland had to gather her courage for a while until he finally gave a long hard knock on the door.
"Yes, yes," a higher pitched voice answered. As Freda opened the door, she said, "Oh. You're my grandson's apprentice, aren't you? What can I do for you?" There she was. The old woman who was the last strongest wizard ever to be known. Known fact; she's addicted to cookies.
"Hey, Merlin sent me to get your coo-"
Before Roland could even finish, the door slammed closed. "Tell Merlin to come himself after the cookies if he really wants them.
Another known fact; Merlin is addicted to his grandmother's cookies. This ain't my first rodeo.
With a long sigh, Roland took out his wand and wrote some text into the air, just for it to consume him and turn him into a fly.
"Alright," Roland muttered, which was more like a weird higher-pitched fly sound, and flew through a keyhole. Perhaps that was the only thing that made the mission possible; Freda was old. While she was scary and powerful, her senses weren't the same.
"You're here, aren't you?" a voice came from the upstairs. "I know that Merlin told you to get my cookies. I learned from the last time."
With a slight frown, Roland flew into her bedroom, just to discover her sitting on her pillow.
Of course, Roland turned back into himself and just stared at Freda. "You can make new cookies, while Merlin can't," Roland said
"I'm fucking old," Freda said. "I can't make those cookies as fast as I could long time ago."
"I can get you some pixie dust for the next batch?" Roland suggested.
"Are you kidding me? Before I retired, I got 3 lifetimes worth of pixie dust."
"Oh come on, Freda. Give me a break. What do you want in return?" Roland finally asked, moaning.
Freda thought for a moment. "Do me a card trick," she said.
"Really?" Roland said.
Not that long after that request, I left Freda's house with a bottle of cookies. "1 out of 3 done!"
Of course, that alone took me 3 hours. The other two tasks were the real problems. | 2019-01-14T13:18:55 | 2019-01-14T13:14:42 | 196 | 49 |
[WP] There’s a strange girl at school but you’re just so attracted to her. You’re a little awkward but your best friend says go ask ask her out dude the worst thing that could happen is she says “no”. So you go over and ask her out but what happens was way way way worse than her saying “no”. | She turned into a fucking puddle.
OK, let me explain. So I had a crush on this girl, Sarah? She goes... well, I guess the correct word is *went*. She *went* to our school. Sweetest girl you'd ever meet, and she was pretty hot too, not gonna lie.
So my friends always pick on me for not asking her out. My best friend, however, would always tell me to go ask her. "The worst that can happen is her saying 'no', dude. Just do it." Of course, I'd make up some dumb excuse as to why I couldn't. Not enough time, not enough of a common schedule. Eventually, however, he told me to cut it out. "Dude, stop being a pussy. Just ask her."
So I did. I went over to her.
"Hey, Sarah! Wanna go out on a date."
And then, the weirdest thing happened. She looked at me...
And she turned into a fucking puddle.
Honest to goodness, she melted right in front of me. It wasn't gross or anything, but her entire body just... stopped having form? Look, it's hard to explain. She just was, and then she wasn't.
The weirdest thing? I went to tell him, and he looked at me like I was insane. "Who's Sarah? I never heard of her."
Let me tell you, there are worse things to happen when you ask a girl out. She could melt into a puddle and fall out of existence. Creepy stuff.
---
I think I tried a little too hard... | "Sure," Melissa replied with a twinkle in her eye, "meet me behind Gertz' after Organic Chem." She spun away, her long golden locks dancing in the late afternoon light.
I stood stunned. That did not just happen… did it?
Melissa was special. Some girls would have taken that God-given beauty, and milked it for all it was worth. Not Melissa though, I’ve never seen her charm others to do her bidding. Instead, she was quiet and reserved. And although she was polite when spoken to, she mostly kept to herself. Melissa was the proverbial rose in the desert. Untouched, unblemished.
When I invited her to dinner, I fully expected a shy smile and a shake of her head.
"No way!" Jonas guffawed buffonishly by my side as we watched Melissa walk away. I think he went on to say something else as well, but all I heard was Melissa's mirthful voice, and the way it had turned a single word into a heavenly chorus.
Professor Taylor's lecture on heterogeneous catalysis went on forever and an age. I spent every moment tracking the minute hand as it took its leisurely stroll around the clock. When it finally reached the bottom in a (seemingly) resounding *clank*, I yanked my zipped backpack off the floor and leapt out of my chair.
I was going to see Melissa. We were going to have dinner. Together! The doors couldn't open fast enough, and I bumped my head on the way out. It did not dampen my spirits.
I walked hurriedly - ran, almost - to Gertz’. The bar was on the other side of campus, on the back-end near the tracks. When I got there, the place was still relatively quiet, its nightly patrons only just starting to stream in as the final classes of the day let out. I darted around the empty green bins as I squeezed my way through the narrow side-alley. The overhanging wall-light flickered and dimmed as I passed underneath, and my shirt snagged on a jagged turn of the sewer pipe lining the bar’s outer walls.
The sun had fully set, and the only light behind Gertz’ was a solitary lightbulb near the bar’s rear exit. I stood in the small pool of yellow in a sea of black. I could barely make out the chain link fence a few feet away which ferried VIA rail into town.
Melissa was not here yet.
I fished out my phone and decided to give her a call… then realized I didn’t have her number. I slipped my hands into my pocket and leaned against the wall. She would be here soon anyways, I’d just have to wait a bit.
The chilly night air picked up, and I tugged my jacket around me. The weather vane on the roof spun with a grotesque grind. I looked up with a frown, was it supposed to sound like that? A light twinkled near the rusty rooster, and I shuffled to the side to get a better look. A shape was hunched there, slowly twisting the metallic ornament out of its fixture. My face twisted in a pained grimace, and I covered my ears to block out the grating metal’s cries.
“Hey, stop that!” I cried. “What are you doing?”
The shape froze, then unfurled as it rose to standing height. Atop its head, long wispy shadows streamed in the wind.
I cocked my head, a question rising tentatively to my lips.
“... M-”
The final syllable caught in my throat as the shape dashed off the roof. Its wide maw was a circular row of calcite needles, and the abyssal depths within grew to engulf the world.
**- H.M. Bishop**
​
edit: formatting and word choice | 2019-07-18T22:45:52 | 2019-07-18T22:25:02 | 34 | 10 |
[WP] Humans are the only species in the universe with pets. As humanity enters the ranks of the Galactic Empire humanity soon is known as "The Beastmasters", taming even the worst nightmares of alien bedtime stories. | "Its WRONG! What those humans do! WRONG! And now they're even using it to control the galactic Senate!"
"Look you know the rules. Once a species has been inducted into the council it retains a vote, no matter what, until extinction."
"Extinction! Pah! That would be better than what the humans do to their defeated enemies! Look at what's become of the Vasudans! They used to be the galaxies most feared warriors! Now look at what they've become!"
"I've talked to Vasudans and they say they're happy with how they are now"
"THAT JUST MAKES IT WORSE! 'domestication' the humans call it. Say they've been doing it on their home world to organisms ever since they evolved! They don't just kill their enemies like a civilised species! No! They 'domesticate' them! Change their very genetics to make them love humans! Now the human representative has dozen 'pets' fawning over her at every senate session! The Krell senator wears a collar and begs her for ear rubs before every vote!"
"Unfortunately the humans do now control 42% of the Senate votes through their "pets" so they have enough votes to block any motion to reduce their power." | Larry's greatest ambition was to become senior insurance salesman and retire comfortably. Now he was Beastmaster Larry of the Vermont Kingdom. He traveled from planet to planet showing off his menagerie.
The ship was an impressive one. FTL, voice control, cabin, and capable of atmospheric landing. He traded a rare American land octopus for the ship. It had conveniently made a web in his laundry room.
This planet was like all the rest. No space port, no shipyards of their own, and no other humans. The civilization, if you could call it that, were pre industrial, but aware of other alien species. This was how Larry liked them, not too savage, and not too advanced. The perfect rubes.
The Fershonameens were a dull species. Humanoid, short, no hair, and three fingers on each hand. What they lacked in technology, they made up for in mineral deposits.
Larry had begun his speech and hoped to be back in orbit soon.
"This is the Squirrel King of the Parklands. Don't be deceived by his size, he could destroy your whole village!"
The crowd made a gurgling sound and the bigger drew in the small ones.
*He's also dumb and a sucker for peanut butter.*
"This is Song Spirit. It is light years away from its mate, but it will sing until reunited with its lost love."
*Or you don't feed it. I learned that the hard way, but you can buy a ton of feeder crickets for cheap at the pet store.*
"Now the jewel of my collection. The Gem Seeker Bettles. Released them into your mines and they are drawn to precious gems. They allowed me to buy my ship!"
The "Beetles" were plentiful enough in his apartment. Larry had a habit of leaving food out. Roaches were apparently not galactic travelers. The "gems" were plastic fakes from the craft store.
The Fershonameens gathered in close with eye spots wide. They spoke among themselves quietly.
"How. Can. We. Acquire. Them?" came the translator.
"They are the last of their species. Their moon was destroyed by....space....forces. I could settle for a ton of platinum delivered to my ship."
They continued to chatter.
"We. Accept." came the translator mechanically.
*Another deal well struck.*
Larry was securing his cargo and accepting other small favors from the locals. A rumbling came from the sky. Another ship landed in the clearing.
*Oh no, who could this be. Traders? Pirates? Space rapists sometimes call sprapists?*
The ship had no weapons. The Fershonameens cautiously approached the ship. The cargo hatch opened.
"I am Becky the Beastmaster of the Arkansas Kingdom! Behold my fantastic beasts while I tell you where to find them."
Becky had a possum on a leach and several specimen jars on her "scepter." The locals turned their angry eye spots on Larry.
*OOOOOOOOOOOhhhhh SHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIttt. Time to get the fuck out.*
He slammed the cargo door shut.
"Ship, get us into orbit immediately and prep the FTL."
"Destination?" came a calm female voice.
"Luna colony, time to regroup."
"By your command Beastmaster Larry."
*This Becky of Arkansas was going to be a problem. One that needed to be dealt with quickly.* | 2020-01-04T18:03:50 | 2020-01-04T15:42:21 | 143 | 100 |
[WP] You discovered that your house is haunted, but instead of fleeing you decided to profit. Bleeding walls? Collect for bloodbank. Rodents of Unusual Size? Butchered and sold. Ectoplasm? Glowstick factory. You call a family meeting to discuss brainstorm ideas for the other manifestations. | "Ooh, I know! Set up a grinder in the room of infinite skeletons and sell the dust to mineral suppliers!" George said excitedly.
"Woah! Excellent idea, dude." John said as he wrote down the idea on the whiteboard which was quickly filling up with all kinds of money making schemes.
***
Sir Skelington Splithead the Third looked over at his companion who was watching the human's proceedings with interest. "Is he... Is he talking about us?"
"I believe so, old chap." Replied a dashing elder skeleton who had, on this particular day, decided to don a tattered tuxedo, a battered top hat, and a monocle with a distinctive scratch in the middle of the lens, because he was feeling fancy.
"They can't do that. Can they, Jerry?" Sir Splithead worried.
"Hah!" Jerry chuffed. "Son, even if they do grind our infinite bones into such meal, it would not be the worst fate that I've ever endured."
"But... I don't want to be ground to dust."
"Oh, to be young again." Jerry chuckled.
***
"Hey, guys. I think I've got another one. What if we contract out the three witches on the top floor for transmutations?" George suggested.
"Dang, dude. You're on a roll!" And John added the idea to the whiteboard. "I think we're going to need another whiteboard."
***
Gabriella, Monica, and Sabrina looked up in shock from the steaming cauldron that they were using to spy on the human's business meeting.
"He can't do that!" Gabriella cried. "I'm sick and tired of doing other people's work!"
"I'm afraid, dear sister, that he probably can compel us to sign a contract since he is the lord of the house." Sabrina said sagely but with an air of dread and anxiety.
"NO! This is simply going too far!" Monica snapped. "We must stand up to these... these... humans!"
"But, how?" Gabriella shrugged. "They control everything."
Sabrina smiled, which immediately caught the attention of Gabriella and Monica. She slowly stepped behind her two gnarled sisters and wrapped her wrinkled arms around both of them.
"I believe that it's time that we had a chat with our neighbors." Sabrina said with a soft but very evil tone.
"You mean the Peterson's at 9921 Terrace Lane next door? They have a nice dog I'd like to roast." Gabriella giggled.
"No, you idiot! I mean the other entities, spirits, and skeletons that inhabit this house." She said. "It's time for *THE FIRST MEETING OF THE MONSTERS!*"
The earsplitting cackle of the three wicked witches echoed through halls of the top floor.
***
"Did anyone else just hear that?" George asked.
"I didn't hear anything." Samantha said.
"Anyway, back to work." John said, more enthusiastic than ever. "Does anyone else have any more ideas on how we can monetize this place?" | *Wilt thou judge them, son of man, wilt thou judge them? cause them to know the abominations of their fathers:*
\- Ezekiel, 20:4, KJV
​
The House isn't just haunted. The House is too damn big. That's what undid us, in the end.
I look round the dark of this near-infinite room, and shiver. It's so, so cold here. I'm hungry, I could use more water, but most of all I'm bone-tired. One thing at a time. I lay down, and sleep.
Dreams. Almost always the same ones.
\*\*\*
It was terrifying, at first. Of course it was. Blood on the walls, that was the first thing. Appropriate. Entirely understandable, really, from what I—we—came to understand, as things went on. But still. Had to be a prank, right? I called an old friend, first, to come and see.
It stopped flowing, right away.
The way he looked at me, god, I'll never forget it. What kind of sick fuck just splashes blood all over the walls and asks a friend to come over to examine the half-dried mess? My kind of sick fuck, apparently. I had to swear up and down that I didn't do it. I had to beg him not to call the cops. I hadn't done anything wrong. I hadn't done anything *at all*, not really. But he couldn't believe that, not entirely, and so he left me there alone.
With the freshly-bleeding walls.
I knew then I'd have to call my cousin, and unbury some things in my head.
"Jane," I told her. "I'm so sorry. It's..."
"Fuck you, Henry," she spat, and hung up the phone.
I called her back. After three brief expeditions to her voicemail, she picked up.
I didn't say anything, just allowed her to gather herself in the silence. Finally, Jane Beth Thornwell spoke up, sounding tiny, sounding tired.
"What happened?"
And I told her. And we both remembered the thing in the outbuilding, the one we weren't ever to refer to as a "slave house" unless we wanted to incur Great-Uncle Douglas' wrath, the thing made of dirt and twigs and gaping, wailing fear. But we remembered it in silence, something that had stretched between us already for more than twenty years.
"What are you going to do?" she asked.
"I don't know," I said. "Maybe I should just sponge off the walls and go somewhere else."
But that would mean giving up the trust fund, and the House would simply pass into another family member's hands. It was live here, or go somewhere else and work to eke out rent. Give up all the time and (relative) quiet I had to work on my dream. Music's a high-maintenance mistress, for sure. And this place, just outside Memphis...
"You're not going to do that," Janes said flatly. "What do you want."
I sigh. "You know what I want. You're all I had to hang onto, back then, convince myself I wasn't crazy. You're all I've got now."
"No," she said, "I'm not. I'm gonna invite Asher and Wendy. They deserve to know what's going on. *Especially* if you're thinking about giving the place up. Wendy's next in line, remember?"
"Please don't do that."
"Too bad." She hung up, again.
I knew better than to try and call her back. So I waited. And I *did* try to sponge the walls, but all that did was ruin a bunch of sponges and fill my head with a reek of copper, rot, and iron which felt like it might be permanent.
My phone rang. Jane, again. "We'll be there in three hours."
My cousins found me in the parlor, staring at a portrait. Pretty fucking cliché, to be honest, like I'd read too many gothic horror novels and decided to go all Don Quixote on their asses. But I didn't know what else to look at in the room—Christian Henry Thornwell's massive portrait absolutely *dominates* the parlor, and of course I'm not allowed to take it down, that would be "altering the historic character of the House" and invalidate my trust fund or some shit. I mean, it's one of the first things I asked my lawyer and she said no.
So I was sitting there staring at my infamous antebellum "Southern Gentleman" ancestor when Jane and Asher and Wendy walked in.
I was so, so goddamn grateful to have something, someone else to look at. I stood up and hugged all three of them, hoping they wouldn't notice how close I was to sobbing all over their light winter jackets.
Then we just looked at each other, full of the tense, weirdly intimate discomfort of people with tight family bonds who don't actually *know* each other all that well.
"Okay, Henry," Asher said, running one hand over his slicked-back blond hair. "Let's see it, then."
\*\*\* | 2022-05-22T15:44:12 | 2022-05-22T14:31:27 | 253 | 128 |
[WP] You have been a wizard for 350 years but your apprentice still surprises you. You laughed at her pink fireball and the green one too. The invisible one suddenly made you much more serious. | As the apprentice rushed in, the cantankerous old wizard pondered what she'd discovered this time. Last week, it was a fireball... but pink. The week before, it was a *fireball*, only green. It was charming to see someone so excited about discovering magic, even such little details as colour modifications. Though he *would* like it if her presentations stopped being so hyperactive.
"Master!" the young, freckled woman said as she rushed to his side. "I've made the most wonderful discovery in my latest studies. It-"
"A fireball?" the wizard merely sighed back.
"W- well... yes, but I swear even you'll be surprised by this one!" she excitedly insisted.
The old wizard put down his toast, much to his disappointment, and moved his hand slightly. The two then stepped into the newly formed portal into the training grounds before he once again sat down, preparing himself for the newest colour of the impending fireball.
"Ok, so," she said, nervously preparing her hand gestures, "if you'll just... aaand... just a... there!"
With her final word, a whoosh was heard in the air and a target dummy, scorched from many sides from previous tests, had once again exploded in a shower of flame. The young girl jumped up and down, clapping her hands excitedly; her mentor, however, grew quiet and gravely serious.
"What did you do?" he growled.
"A fireball!" she replied happily. "But the colour of *nothing*! An invisible fireball!"
"No," he merely said.
"I'm- I'm sorry master?"
"You can't do that," he said and looked her in the eye, more serious than she'd ever seen him, "You can't *EVER* do that, you hear me girl?"
"But-" she grew flustered and worried, "but it's possible! You just saw! The applications in combat-"
"Are too great! There's-" he yelled but stopped himself, regaining composure. "Sit," he said and pointed at the chair next to him.
She sat meekly, without a word.
"Do you think you're the first one to discover that?!" he said. He found no response, the girl terrified of answering.
"You're not. Not by a long shot. I'd dare say most young mages did at some point. Even the ones that fell to darkness," he said somewhat somberly.
"But... none of them-"
"...had ever used them? There's *rules*, girl! Rules *none* of us break, not even the worst. An invisible fireball would be a spell of possibly unmatched power. But it'd get everyone thinking. 'What else can we make horribly strong?' we'd all think. And then? Invisible monsters, microscopic magic missiles, supersonic telekinesis... and then?" he said, looking into the distance.
She looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to finish. He was lost in thought but she did notice he was rubbing his left hand, the heavy scarring, the missing finger, the- *oh*.
"It goes too far," he uttered. "And it doesn't end well. Never. For anyone." It was a rare moment of weakness for him, not one he was used to. The apprentice looked at her feet.
"I'm- I'm sorry, master. I'm terribly sorry. I will not repeat my mistake- please do not-"
"Clara," he said. It immediately put an end to her apologies. For him to actually call her by her name...
"I don't want you to be sorry," he said softly. "I want you to learn. You're a studious one. Clever, too. You were bound to find things like this eventually. I just need you to know, now that you have, that you must never go down this path. Because if even the worst of us won't..."
"I understand," she said. He looked at her and, given her solemn expression, was convinced that she did. Worse than solemn, he thought. She looked downright downtrodden.
"You know," he said with an unusually optimistic tone, "I used to make all manner of stuff like this too when I was young." He moved his hand again and opened a small portal into his personal chambers, a dusty shelf on the other hand. He reached in and after a little bit of shuffling the ancient books pulled out a yellowed piece of parchment that likely would have fallen apart already had it not been for the magic in it.
He gave her the slightest of smiles and opened it. She followed his every move intently, but could not quite read the incantation - not only was the ink faded, the words were also incredibly dated. He murmured for a moment before striking the air before him and casting a...
A fireball.
It moved slowly, so incredibly slowly that no one would ever be hit by it, but it did allow her to closely look at it. Namely the little feet that wiggled in the air, simulating running and the little hands at the sides.
After several silent moments, the fireball finally reached the training dummy and exploded softly. The fireball with little hands and feet that looked like it was running.
And she laughed.
She could not help it - it was partly genuine laughter at the preposterous spell, partly her letting out the anxiety and fear she had felt thus far. Whatever the reason, she laughed, uproariously.
And then, to her surprise, so did he. | “Show me what you’ve learnt, Lillian.” I said.
“I think you’ll be surprised to see what I’ve developed!” She exclaimed.
“You never fail to get me to chuckle.” I snickered, twiddling my thumbs as i awaited to see her showcase.
Lillian was my second apprentice, but she was an avid and quick-learning student. She was approaching her third year under my tutelage. I recalled the first time I met her - a small-orphaned girl on the side of the road. Her fifteenth birthday was quickly approaching, I had thought about what gift would be most appropriate for her coming-of-age ceremony.
“Come, follow me into the training quarters.” I spoke. She followed obediently but with a pep in her step.
The darkly-lit training room was vast inside.The large six sided walls I built were to keep the destruction of any magic to a minimum inside. I had created the room almost three-hundred years ago when I was still a mage-in-waiting myself. I was approaching the first third of my lifespan, with seven hundred-odd years left to go. I’d hoped that Lillian would be the one to take over my Library - my domain and sanctuary that only few Librarians have access to.
Lillian and I stood opposite one another at the ends of the room. I snapped my fingers together, and the torches instantly grew flames, with bright-red colours spouting from the torches in the room.
“So what do you remember about fireballs?” I asked her.
“A Librarian can conjure a fireball with different properties attached to them.” She responded. I smiled, I was happy she took the time to remember my teachings.
“Yes, and how do we conjure them?”
“One needs a source.” She promptly retorted.
“Yes, like the flame in those torches,” I began, “Take inspiration from that flame, and conjure a fireball for me.”
She did what was told. I could see the immense concentration in her eyes as she looked at the torch beside her. She held out her hand toward its flames, and a fireball sparked in her hands.
“Good! Now, fire it at me!” I exclaimed.
Lillian drew in the flame, and hurled a fist-sized fireball in my direction. I held out my right hand and dispelled the fireball with my overwhelming source.
“How was that?” She asked. I was impressed, she was able to easily conjure an intermediate level spell with no hesitation.
“Very impressive, but still a weak attempt.” I teased.
“You always say that, but you’re like…a thousand years old, of course you’re stronger than me!”
“I am thirty-five decades. If I were a millennia old, I’d be a frail-old, possibly dead, man.”
“Then try this! I came up with it!” She yelled, and began conjuring another fireball. I sensed the next one was different from the last, her hand movements and body language showed something was up. I was deeply interested as I grinned. Lillian hurled her next fireball, but the colour was distinct. A bright-pink flame was tossed at me with immense speed. I held out my hand again and dispelled the sorcery. When the flame disappeared I could feel my fingers curl, I was intrigued.
“Pink? You used emotion and combined it with the fireball. Well-played.” I chuckled.
“You liked that?” She asked.
“It is definitely interesting, the ability to combine emotion into spells can change even the toughest foe’s heart. Well done.” I praised the young apprentice.
“You’ve seen a pink-fireball before?” She asked.
“Not seen, but I have read about them.” I responded.
“Of course you did, you’re the Clerk of the Library, you’ve read everything.”
“Not true, only the texts that have been made available to me.”
She seemed disappointed at my lacklustre response to her hard work. In my honesty, she was more cunning than I was at her age. One could say I had a sense of jealousy towards her.
“I’m sure you have discovered more secrets of sorcery for me.” I said. She nodded complacently.
“I have another, if you’d like to see.” She said.
She conjured another fireball, this time the colour of green lit in her palm. I was thoroughly surprised.
“Ah, you’ve even mastered wind, well done.” I applauded.
The flame in her hand dissipated, she looked somewhat downtrodden at my response.
“Nothing surprises you, not even this?” She asked.
“Do not feel down, I myself cannot combine as many sources as you can. You are remarkable in your ability to use so many sources at your age.” Lillina looked at me and saw that I spoke the truth in my words.
“I have one more to show you.” She said. I lifted my brow as I inspected her body-language. She emitted a sense of deep concentration.
“Show me.”
She held her hands to the torch flame one last time, and began conjuring her spell. But I was blind to her. I could not see the fireball forming in her palm. I had never been so taken aback for words in my entire life as a mage. She aimed her hands in my direction, yet, I could still not see the flame. In an instant, my world was dark.
Before I could come to my senses I heard a voice calling for me.
“Master Jayce? Are you okay? Wake up!” The voice called.
I realised that I was hit with a burning sensation against my face, I instinctively casted the spell of “Mirage” to cleanse the sensation I felt. Then, my vision reappeared. My apprentice Lillian was in view a few metres away from mine. She had a deeply concerned expression as she inspected me. I had realised that her fireball had knocked me unconscious onto the ground.
“Are you okay?” She asked.
I propped myself up from the floor, and analysed my confusion towards what had happened. ‘How could I not see her fireball? It was almost…Invisible?’ I thought. Then, I understood. There was no more intrigue in my thoughts, and I looked at her. I grabbed Lillian by the shoulders as she inspected the bruises on my face.
“Lillian.”
“Y-yes?” She responded.
“Where did you learn that?” I commanded.
“No-where, no books in here spoke of this type of source-”
“Do not lie to me. Where did you learn of this?”
“I’m not lying! I was just in my room, and then something told me I could try hiding my fireball. That’s the truth!” She yelled. I hushed her immediately. She spoke the truth, I detected no deceit in her voice. This was dangerous territory.
“Do not talk loudly, the Library has ears.” I whispered. She nodded in confirmation. I stood up from the floor, thinking of the next logical step. But my mind was muddled with questions.
“Is it bad that I did that?” She asked quietly.
“That…Is a source not transcribed in any text in this Library. It is a new source, one that you have discovered.” I responded. Lillian was agape at the mouth. I knew that she had to be moved, immediately from the confines of the Library.
“Pack your belongings, Lillian.” I spoke as I walked towards the doors of the room.
“What? Why?”
“We must go, your secret may be out already. We must leave the Library before others seek out your source. Now, go. We may be too-late already.” | 2022-09-28T11:26:53 | 2022-09-28T10:33:16 | 56 | 34 |
[WP] You are arrested by a mysterious agency for the “illegal use of a magical and or supernatural item” after stumbling across a Genie lamp. But, the agency is stunned to find you only used one wish. An odd one in particular. | "So let me get this straight", the officer in the sequined uniform said, adjusting his pointy hat as he spoke. "You found an unlicensed magical item, and conversed with the entity inside, instructing the entity to..."
I glanced up from inspecting my glowing shackles. "I wished for my ex wife to get bunions."
"...right." The officer said, dipping a colorful feather quill in the ink well and, presumably, writing my statement on the parchment on the table. "And did you instruct the entity to perform any further acts, magical or non-magical in nature?"
"Erm, no." I said, shifting in my seat. "Just the bunions thing."
The quill scribbled again. The officer released his grip on the feather, which didn't affect the quill's writing speed.
"I'm a bit confused here, Jerry." The officer said, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair. "You violated the Magical Entity Protection act, Illegally used an unlicensed magical item, and then abandoned said item after only using one of three wishes... to make your ex wife mildly uncomfortable?"
I glanced to the only other person in the interrogation room, who I wasn't sure was even a person at all. It seemed to be some sort of centaur, or maybe just a particularly handsome horse.
"I asked you a question, Jerry." The human officer said. "Please respond for the record." he gestured towards the awaiting quill on the table between us.
"How many times do you want me to say it?" I asked. "I found a lamp, rubbed it, and asked the genie that came out to give my ex wife Pauline bunions on both of her feet."
"But *why*?" The officer asked over the sound of the scribbling quill. "You could have used three wishes, for anything in the world or even beyond."
I shrugged. The small action made the magical shackles jingle with far more sound than it should have done. "I wanted her to get bunions. She'd be annoyed."
The officers glanced at each other, both seeking answers from the other's expressions.
"You could have wished for unlimited money, for women to find you irresistible, for, well, anything at all." He said, leaning onto the table. "But you only wished to-"
"Look, officer, I wanted her to get bunions. Thats it." I interrupted. "Thats all I wanted. You don't need to keep asking over and over again, alright?"
The quill moved furiously, writing my words as I spoke them.
"I didn't even know that genies were real, or illegal to use." I added.
The quill laid itself down on the desk, apparently concluding the interview portion of my detainment.
"Thank you, Jerry." The human officer said, rising from his seat. "Officer Seabiscuit, please escort him back to his holding cell."
The horse man whinnied in reply, and waved a hoof towards me.
"I don't know, maybe Pauline has the key. Go ask her." The officer said, and left.
Ah. That explained at least one thing about my experiences so far.
/r/SlightlyColdStories for more | Toby was a little overwhelmed with the events of the last few hours. He knew MANA was a thing, everyone did. They were the ones who handled out of control supers and mages. He never thought he’d be in their crosshairs though. It was one little wish. Then woosh he was surrounded by armed agents, three of them in power armor and one of them was covered in red electricity. An honest to God super in his bedroom. A beautiful twenty-year-old one at that. That twenty-year-old super was standing in front of him with her arms crossed in a body-tight suit of armor. He was staring at her assets, because, well he was fifteen. He was snapped back to the interrogation proper when she slammed her palms on the table he was handcuffed too.
“Our satellites detected a PL20 event in your house. Where are you hiding the unregistered super? Or was it you?”
Toby recalled the raid. His wall was literally smashed in. Oh God he thought, my parents are going to ground me for life… or murder me. He’d been hit with a stunner. Then they slapped a power limiter on his ankle. He’d seen them before on people who would go to the Aurelius Academy. He was no super though, not even a PL1. He didn’t want to be. He’d seen them of course on TV and at a distance putting out fires, fighting super villains, or UPIs, or unlicensed powered individuals. He was formulating his answer but then his eyes drifted to the Agent’s chest and how the form fitting armor cupped it. She hit the desk again hard.
“I’m losing patience with you. Toby. You tell me what I want to know, or you’re going to Earth-18 Supermax for the rest of your natural life. Which considering the look of you would be a few days at most, so that is a small mercy.”
Toby was mid-swallow when she spoke and he started choking on his saliva. Earth-18? Supermax? That was where they sent the scary ones. It was full of the psychopaths and sociopaths who had superpowers. The ones who refused to be registered and licensed.“I didn’t do it!”The blonde-haired agent tapped her wrist and brought up a hologram and pointed at a red circle pinging on a satellite image of his house with a PL20 Event flashing underneath.
“Your house one hour ago. Where is the PL20 super? Explain or you will be considered just as guilty as them. If I need to I will bring in an Agent who can just pull it out of your head. Your rights against mental scanning are nil when there are unlicensed super’s involved.”
Toby was feeling like he was going to throw up now. Someone reading his mind? They’d know all his deepest thoughts. All his… thoughts about the agent and she was scary. Tears started to form in his eyes. The agent didn’t seem sympathetic to his plight. He broke.
“It was the lamp! I rubbed the lamp.”
The agent was about to go on to another terrible fate that awaited him and opened then closed her mouth. And leaned down.
“What lamp?”
“I found it at a flea market. I was cleaning it up and this girl appeared. Skimpy outfit she was hot.”
The agent grabbed his chin roughly and forced him to look at her face.
“Was she the PL20 super? Tell me now.”
Toby stammered a few times as he looked into the Agent’s blue eyes.
“I… I… guess? She said she could grant me one wish.”
The agent paused and glanced at the one-way armored mirror behind her.She motioned towards it. Shortly afterwards a door opened, and an old man walked in. He looked like something out of a horror movie to Toby to be honest. Pale skin, dark clothes. Blood red eyes. Long, sharp, black nails. The female agent turned to leave. Toby shrunk into his seat. He much preferred her to whomever this new Agent was.
“I’d rather talk to her.”
The man grinned and Toby saw fangs.
“I am afraid magic is not her… forte. Let’s you and I discuss the lamp.”
Toby squirmed.
“I’ll only talk to her!”
The female Agent sighed and turned back towards the room and stood beside the newcomer. She crossed her arms and looked down at Toby red lightning arcing between her fingers.
“You better tell us exactly what we want to know, lets start with, What did you wish for? And please tell me it wasn’t superpowers because we don’t need another idiot running around with them.”
“A girl who would have…”
He paused and started blushing intensely. He looked between the vampire and the female Agent. She frowned.
“Spit it out, we’ve heard it all before.”
“I wished for a girl to have sex with!”
“And did she make it happen?”
Toby’s ears were bright red as the woman's eyes burned into him. He started to think maybe he should have let her leave. The vampire seemed amused, the female agent looked like she was about to fry his ass.
“She summoned a life like sex doll that talked, then she vanished! Its not what I asked for.” | 2022-11-02T07:55:48 | 2022-11-02T07:21:32 | 270 | 74 |
[WP] You are arrested by a mysterious agency for the “illegal use of a magical and or supernatural item” after stumbling across a Genie lamp. But, the agency is stunned to find you only used one wish. An odd one in particular. | "So let me get this straight", the officer in the sequined uniform said, adjusting his pointy hat as he spoke. "You found an unlicensed magical item, and conversed with the entity inside, instructing the entity to..."
I glanced up from inspecting my glowing shackles. "I wished for my ex wife to get bunions."
"...right." The officer said, dipping a colorful feather quill in the ink well and, presumably, writing my statement on the parchment on the table. "And did you instruct the entity to perform any further acts, magical or non-magical in nature?"
"Erm, no." I said, shifting in my seat. "Just the bunions thing."
The quill scribbled again. The officer released his grip on the feather, which didn't affect the quill's writing speed.
"I'm a bit confused here, Jerry." The officer said, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair. "You violated the Magical Entity Protection act, Illegally used an unlicensed magical item, and then abandoned said item after only using one of three wishes... to make your ex wife mildly uncomfortable?"
I glanced to the only other person in the interrogation room, who I wasn't sure was even a person at all. It seemed to be some sort of centaur, or maybe just a particularly handsome horse.
"I asked you a question, Jerry." The human officer said. "Please respond for the record." he gestured towards the awaiting quill on the table between us.
"How many times do you want me to say it?" I asked. "I found a lamp, rubbed it, and asked the genie that came out to give my ex wife Pauline bunions on both of her feet."
"But *why*?" The officer asked over the sound of the scribbling quill. "You could have used three wishes, for anything in the world or even beyond."
I shrugged. The small action made the magical shackles jingle with far more sound than it should have done. "I wanted her to get bunions. She'd be annoyed."
The officers glanced at each other, both seeking answers from the other's expressions.
"You could have wished for unlimited money, for women to find you irresistible, for, well, anything at all." He said, leaning onto the table. "But you only wished to-"
"Look, officer, I wanted her to get bunions. Thats it." I interrupted. "Thats all I wanted. You don't need to keep asking over and over again, alright?"
The quill moved furiously, writing my words as I spoke them.
"I didn't even know that genies were real, or illegal to use." I added.
The quill laid itself down on the desk, apparently concluding the interview portion of my detainment.
"Thank you, Jerry." The human officer said, rising from his seat. "Officer Seabiscuit, please escort him back to his holding cell."
The horse man whinnied in reply, and waved a hoof towards me.
"I don't know, maybe Pauline has the key. Go ask her." The officer said, and left.
Ah. That explained at least one thing about my experiences so far.
/r/SlightlyColdStories for more | I finish putting on the rest of my costume and open the doors to the giant stadium-like building. I am greeted by a cool breeze and the smell of old sweaty white dudes. I look around to see tons of fellow comic book lovers, and my heart beats faster. WOW. Comicon is as impressive as Reddit makes it sound. Before starting my adventure, I head over to the bathroom. I am greeted with more of the "comic lover" smell inside the bathroom, and I head to the nearest Urinal.
"FREEZE, DONT MOVE," Yells a strange-looking man adorned in a green cloak with big round goggles and what appears to be a brown stick in his hand?
"Ugh, you got me?" I say, putting my hands up and laughing awkwardly.
Then, I proceed to stare at the wall in front of me again, hoping the weirdo in the Green Robinhood/Alien/Wizard costume, GRAW for short will go away. Wow, people go hard with their role, even in the bathroom. Huh. I can't say I'm surprised; I just wasn't ready for it yet. After a few seconds, I pull up my pants and tighten my zipper, turning towards the sink.
My friend GRAW, still standing there, is now pointing his brown twig at my back. "You have Violated Space Time Ordinance," he says, proudly puffing his chest.
Ignoring him, I go to the sink and start washing my hands. "Hey comrade, I'm loving the energy, but it's kind of weird to pop out at people while they're peeing, even at Comicon. BTW what race do you hail from?" I say, in an attempt to figure out his costume, sound nerdy, and dispel some of the awkwardness.
"I hail from Teleios-Eleggtis-Chronou, and I am here to escort you to the Fourth-dimensional space court." He says firmly.
"Ah, most excellent; I have been meaning to settle such matters. And what is your name?" I say, playing along as I finish washing my hands.
"You can call me Graw." He says, unamused since that's all you could muster to think up.
My eyes widen in shock, and I am suddenly zapped by a bright pink beam that seems to float across the air. Moments later, I appear in what looks like a courtroom puking my guts out. Graw looks at me and whispers, "don't worry, it's temporary."
"Silence.' Booms, a strange voice. When I look up, there is a man in similar attire to Graw. Except his cloak is blue and not nearly as neatly pressed. I look around, and behind us are rows of hundreds of people. All are dressed in a similar fashion, the only variation being the color of their robe.
"Sorry, your honor, I was just trying to explain to Defendant 1790210000 that the vomiting would only be temporary side effect of tge Instant-Fairy-Teleportation-Technique." Says Graw in a soft voice.
"That's the least of his problems," the judge responds.
"Defendant 1790210000 - Planet Earth - Name in Common Tongue John Pearl, do you know why you are here?" He continues.
I shake my head no but then remember something about *Violating Space Time Ordinance or something.* But that was a joke, right?
"You have violated Space Time Ordinance... For... Let's see here... Using a Genie... To wish for... People on Reddit to troll you? Well now if that isn't possibly the stupidest thing I've ever heard. And how do you plead?" He continues.
"Wait. That wish I made jokingly six years ago backstage at an Alladin play? This has got to be a joke, right? Even if that is somehow the case, why is this a big deal now. What is going on? Haha very funny come out with the cameras," I ask, utterly confused and annoyed.
Graw looks concerned and whispers, "Shut up, idiot; this isn't a joke. You last want to be stuck in time perjury for eternity. Crimes only manifest after they happen. So, in your case, after someone trolls you."
"Guilty, it is." He responds, a gavel next time him knocking hard against the podium; I sentence you to 3 million lifetimes in time perjury.
Suddenly, two guards appear behind me, "Wait no!! Ugh, I try to gasp at anything to save me. I can explain? I invoke The Law of Ora...Teleios... Eleggtis..." I screech, and nothing happens. I think harder, grasping for anything that could get me out of this mess. "My trolls comment got deleted tho," I shout in a last ditch effort. Suddenly time stands still, the hundreds of spectators gasp, and all eyes are on me.
Story is here on my page ---> [One Wish to Rule Them All](https://www.reddit.com/r/Fuji_Jufi_Writes/comments/yk8wo1/one_wish_to_rule_them_all/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf)
Follow and check out my other works 😜✌🏻—-> [Fuji-Jufi-Writes](https://www.reddit.com/r/Fuji_Jufi_Writes/) | 2022-11-02T07:55:48 | 2022-11-02T07:31:34 | 270 | 21 |
[WP] In your dying moments, you see a "Game Over" screen with two options: Try Again or End Game | I laid there, amidst some garbage and puddles from a rainstorm the night before. I was 68, and had been dying of a heart attack. It took some time. I thought for sure some passerby would see me, but it didn't happen. I started thinking about all of the things I'd done wrong, all of the things I'd regretted. I could hardly breathe, my chest felt like it was on fire, and I had a significant amount of pain building up behind my eyes, but every once in a while, when I came upon a particularly hurtful memory, my body would find a way to help me sob.
I could feel my clothes getting soaked. If you can imagine it, the pain of a heart attack, your body shutting down, and there you are, laying in a puddle, your clothes sopping it all up... and that feeling, that same feeling you'd get if you got caught in the rain. That awful feeling of wet clothes. Well, there you are, dying. In wet clothes.
I closed my eyes, as if to say to the universe that I was ready. I waited for a bit, opened them. Blue peaks over the horizon. I couldn't say how long I'd been there, but it didn't take much longer. Last thought was of Megan Ryan. 19, love of my life. Killed herself. In a flash I saw our wedding, our kids, our life together, wonderful moments that might have happened had she just held on a little longer.
Sobbing moved on to a full seizure and my body gave out. I closed my eyes and waited for whatever was going to happen.
Darkness for a second, and then the memories of dozens upon dozens of lives, spanning back to when I'd first been given the opportunity. I stood up, refreshed, still soaked though. New life coming in at my joints, joints that had haunted me for a decade. A very familiar feeling.
I looked up at the two choices. Two choices. I'd been having so much fun at this, there really only was the one choice. Even the bad lives... it was truly unbelievable how the feeling of forgiveness washes over you so quickly, once you get to face the board again. It made every permutation worthwhile. I had an infinity to learn as much as possible about humanity before taking a seat within the chamber. Elders had given me all different kinds of advice. I found myself ignoring most of it, since I was so in love with the possibilities. Truth be told, I was so in love with love, itself.
I knew, at some point, I'd become bored with it. It was inevitable. But, I thought, not yet, and I touched the 'try again' button. I took in a deep breathe and waited to forget everything, again. | *It's over, it's all over...* those words flicker across your mind as everything fades away. You expected for memories, the years of your life to flash by you in an instant, reliving both the euphoric highs and heart-tearing lows of your life. You expected the tunnel, seeing that light at the end, stretching and working towards that light that is just out of reach. You expected the deeds of your life to be laid out before you, the good and the bad, and thus the weight of your sins would deign you to either heaven or hell. Hell, there was even that small corner of your mind that expected nothing, maybe even wished for it. That the fade to black would stop, the falling asleep without the future wake up. The flat stop at the end of the composition. But not this. Never this.
You found yourself floating in space, the inky blackness around you was swarmed with stars - fireflies lighting the universe. You could see all of it, the utter majesty of all of creation, and you understood. Understood everything about your life, where you went right, where you went wrong, and all the little things in between. In big, golden letters you saw the words. The well remembered words from all those times you failed every video game. **Game Over**
Fuck. Not this. Two options were underneath those shimmering words. **Try Again** floated next to **End Game.** Fuck this. *Fuck* this. You fall to your knees, as much as you can while floating in the vacuum of whatever space you were in. Tears streamed down your face, running down you. You brought your hands to your face, attempting to stem your tears, to dry your weeping eyes. But the blood on your hands mingled with the tears on your face. The jagged scars across your wrists, wrought by your own making, laugh at you. That you should make a choice, a choice that you were sure was to be your very last, only to have to make it again.
But now was different. You understood your place, all the meetings and people in your life, how you touched and affected them, and how they tore you apart. Bit by bit. Like vultures circling around a carcass, they ripped into your very soul. Ran you to this place, the end of your rope.
But you saw them, all of them, all of those small little meetings and moments that your life brushed against another, and the entirety of your life was changed. Crushes and dates, children and elders, friends now and long ago. That grew out of who there were to who they are and who they still will be only by your meeting. That you made a difference. That the entirety of your life meant more than the oblivion that you wished upon yourself now.
And so you cried. Cried and yelled, hate roared from you like the blood from your veins. You shouted at the god that left you with this choice, the mad jester for which you were the pawn in some game. And you weighed your options. On the one hand, you could end it again. This time, finally. The end all to end all. And you knew, you knew to the depths of your bones, that this would be the black screen you so desired. But instead of the comfort of never feeling the pain you felt before, you felt fear. Fear of the knowing oblivion you would face. Fear of knowing there would never be another moment you would feel life rush through your veins, the joy of the wind and the earth and sea against your skin. The feel of the skin of the one you love beyond all else against yours. The peace that comes when all you do is done and you can finally rest. And you knew you could go back.
Go back, knowing all you know now. Go back and know that you could change all the choices that you had made, change your fate, the one you yourself had laid. But. How many times had you made that choice? How many times had you stared at this screen, and clicked that **Try Again**? Made the same choices, the same pain, the same end. You considered all this, letting it wrack your mind, the good and the bad. The decisions before you, and the ones you could make again. To decide what you would do to reach the credits, instead of some do it over again. That you would deal with all that pain again...the scars of life over and over again. And so time passes, as you weigh the options of your very existence.
Fuck this. You weren't going to deal with this. You look around you, seeing the universe all around you. You smirk, pick a direction, and fly across the heavens themselves. This decision can wait. There's a whole universe out there. It was time to go exploring. And you were, for once, finally free.
EDIT: Editing my God-forsaken grammar. | 2014-05-21T21:08:45 | 2014-05-21T19:35:20 | 22 | 12 |
[WP] Why is Waldo hiding? | The sun hits its zenith as the man behind the sniper rifle sits up for a brief sip of water. Joseph Ricketzo, known as "Joey Rickets" to his friends, had worked the New York syndicate for the better part of two decades, but he'd never had an assignment this grueling. For the last several days, he'd been camped out on a hill above the carnival grounds. They had it on good intel that Walter Hallerstom had been placed here by the feds after his trial. You'd think they would have thought of something a little less blatant than a red striped shirt and hat to disguise their star witness in. Oh well, makes the job easier, Joey reasoned to himself. Suddenly, his earpiece crackles to life, an almost child-like voice coming through.
"There he is, there he is! Next to the bumper cars!"
Joey turns his rifle to spot, and spots a glimpse of red and white fabric. He grins, "Gotcha now, Waldo." Just as his finger begins to tighten on the trigger, the glint off his scope shines in Waldo's face, who wheels around. Waldo quickly hits a button on his watch.
Then, something very, very interesting happens. The space next to Waldo begins to ripple, and the fabric of reality bends, opening in the form of a circular entrance, which Waldo quickly jumps through.
"Son of a bitch!" Joey throws down his rifle and sprints down the hill. The wormhole begins to shiver and shake, slowly closing. Just as it collapses on itself, Joey leaps forward, and through the opening.
Thud.
Joey shakes his head, clearing his senses. Around him, hundreds of Crusade knights hustle around, carrying supplies and weapons to load on massive ships sitting in the Italian harbor. Waldo is nowhere in sight. Joey stands up, and grabs a crossbow from a table next to him. He racks the bolt in place, and slings it over his shoulder.
"At least it ain't the fucking pirates this time."
He trudges off into the crowd in search of his quarry. | "Where's Waldo?" asked the President. It was a simple question, direct with no ambiguity, but every man and woman in a suit or dress uniform presently seated around the Situation Room table squirmed in uncomfortable silence. The leader of the free world tapped his fingers against the rich mahogany wood of the long oval table, his tapping the only sound in the room. "Let me ask you all again. Where. Is. Waldo." A firm executive hand pounded the table to emphasize each word. "Jackson, what do we know?"
Reginald Jackson was the President's national security adviser, a tough, no nonsense black man from Brooklyn with a Harvard education. Jackson cleared his throat and opened the thick file folder stamped with 'Top Secret' on every page. A grainy photograph fell out of a tall man with round glasses, wearing an outlandish red and white striped sweater and matching knitted cap. It was the last image anyone in the world had on that mysterious Waldo.
"Mister President, ladies and gentlemen of the National Security council, good afternoon," began Jackson formally, his rich baritone filling the room. "As of 0800 hours this morning, an NSA analyst walked out of the Electronic Analysis Unit in Langley with what we are estimating was over ninety terabytes of data. I don't need to remind you that the EAU is where we house the Five-Eyes program, sorting and collecting all internet and telephonic communication across the globe. Not only did this agent manage to walk right out the front door with a massive amount of highly classified data, he introduce a meme virus into our systems that has insidiously been worming its way through every government system from the NSA down to the IRS." Jackson paused and shuffled through the stack of papers in the folder. "It's quite impressive, really..."
"Regg, don't tell me you actually admire this pencil necked traitor!" snarled the President.
Jackson removed his glasses and wiped them out of habit, something he developed while teaching law school when he needed a moment to think. "Sir, I don't think you realize the scope of this virus. While the data he holds is critical yes, it is this Waldo virus that we are really amazed by. It's like nothing we've ever seen. Every piece of data about this character we've dubbed Waldo has been deleted, overwritten, or encrypted. Even his damn birth certificate got pulled and shredded based on an email order the virus generated, replaced with a new one that only says 'Waldo Waldo'. God only knows what else he has up his sleeve."
"So what did this twerp walk out with? Stevens?" The President glared at his NSA director, a weaselly looking man with a pinched nose and an ill-fitting suit.
"As far as we can tell Mister President, he captured at least several days worth of Five-Eyes collections in their raw format. We're talking emails, text messages, cables, instant messages, phone calls, everything. Literally every damn form of communication known to man in every god forsaken country, save for whispers and smoke signals. By the way, hopefully we'll be able to collect on those too next year when Six-Eyes comes online and we can start culling active cell signal sonar." The man seemed genuinely pleased about the prospect of hearing even a whisper.
"Mister President," Jackson chimed in, struggling to keep any of the disgust he felt for Stevens to himself, "I don't need to tell you that the implications of this data being released will likely be the end of your presidency, let alone NATO and every other partnership the United States has. When our allies find out how deep we've had our hands down their pants..." the adviser left the statement hanging.
Standing, the President walked over to an ornate model of the globe decorating a corner of the room. He gave the globe a thoughtful spin and watched the whirl of countries fly by, countries that would soon be lining up to punish America in one way or another. The globe rested with the continental US facing the President, and in that moment he felt the country looked very lonely.
"Find him. Find Waldo," growled the President. "Find him and kill him." | 2014-09-18T13:14:07 | 2014-09-18T13:06:18 | 152 | 20 |
[WP] A genie grants 3 wishes to someone with the condition that the person they hate receives twice the same. It can't be used to harm them. You're the 'hated person' and you have no idea what's going on... | I fell to the ground in shock when I won the lottery that day, 100 million in Powerball, the 1st and only time I played,
When my family and I went in for our annual physicals we were all shocked again to find every minor nagging health complainant had vanished and we had the bodies of the best pro athletes young and strong,
As we sat home dazed by our impossible good fortune there was a knock at the door. My old best friend was there we had parted in hate many years ago . I looked at him, sharp words on my lips.
He smiled and said "I wish to forgive my old best friend."
And we embraced.
| Like any day in December, it felt like it could snow any second. My steps were stiff, and there was gum stuck to the bottom of my left shoe. Not a great start. My suit was starchy as well. It clung to my shoulders and made my tie scratch my throat. That's when it started to rain.
I sat down under the glass cover near the bus stop. The car came on time, which was a blessing. Very few were on the bus today... am I forgetting something? It'll be nice to avoid stares today. I look over to a man with a stiffer suit and starker demeanor. He sits beside me. "All clear, sir".
My hands lay pressed against my suitcase. What people didn't know, was that today it was entirely empty. It had been for weeks. Doesn't matter, only a few more until my inevitable promotion. Just keep up appearances. Speak confidently. The littler people know, the littler they become. Let's keep things that way.
This rain is growing intense. My driver needs to slow down. "careful Jeff". As it decellerates, we begin to hydroplane along our street, and a bit off the side. Sometimes nature works against great men. No one's god will stop me. I have work to give, after all. That's what they need. Jobs. Work. That's what freedom is all about.
My new office is just down the corridor. I hope the coffee's ready. Wow It's really pouring out there. Perhaps I should check the weather.
"Record precipitation around Puskatawn County, which may cause some floods due to the drought from the last two weeks. Hold on. Our Doppler is just picking up a massive storm over Washington. Businesses and officials are being prompted to leave as soon as necessary. The city is flooding. The capitol is-"
A dried piece of gum floats beneath my desk. The heavy, wooden door across my office is creaking. Oh.
"this was news 20, thanks for tuning in."
The phone rings.
"Honey! I have amazing news! They said twins! Please let me know when you can get here. I love you so much. Bye!"
My heart is beating its way out of me. My fingers nervously fiddle with the lock on my briefcase. Twins. That shouldn't have happened. Those were just stomach cramps yesterday.
The water waves the phone from my desk. I suppose it's time to snap out of it. After wading across my office, the door busts open. My... Boss? I guess he's my boss. Why is he just standing there? Help me get out of here! His brows are shaking. His face is red and stoney. That's when I notice it. Sets of Benjamin's floating out of my briefcase.
Well. How about that.
"It's not what you think, Barry-O!" | 2014-11-30T13:22:58 | 2014-11-30T09:53:17 | 62 | 22 |
[WP] Convicted criminals can choose to shorten their sentence. The only catch is the more it is shortened, the worse the conditions are where they are held. Describe a one night stay.
Thanks guys, I'm reading all of them. Keep it coming! | At this end of the jail everything smells bad.
The warden's aide takes me past the 6 month room. It's lowered below the floor a couple meters. Inside, I see a room full of prisoners up to their waist in liquid shit. The smell is unbearable
Then the 3 month room. Much like the last, except here they're up to their chest in shit.
The one week room has the prisoners up to their necks in shit. Just one room left.
I was surprised by the one day room. Everyone was standing around drinking coffee, and only up to their knees in shit.
"I'll take it!" I said to the warden's aide.
"You're sure?"
"Absolutely, how bad could it be?"
I climbed down into the room, waved to the other prisoners, poured myself a cup of coffee.
Before I could drink it, the lights dimmed and brightened three times. A guard with an SMG came through the door.
"ALRIGHT YOU MAGGOTS!" he bellowed "BREAK TIME IS OVER! BACK TO STANDING ON YOUR HEADS!" | My eyes squinted as they were bombarded by the bright, painful light as soon as the door opened.
"Step forward, Mr. Moraeu," I heard a voice say.
As soon as they adjusted to the familiar courtroom, I awkwardly moved my exhausted legs towards the judge.
"Am I to understand that you want your sentence reduced to a day?" she asked.
There was something about those words that struck a chord in my memory, but the light had pushed it out of my mind.
I nodded feebly, too parched to say anything.
"You realize how difficult it will be to endure. Are you sure you wish to continue?" She eyed me.
Unable to produce any words, I nodded.
"Very well." She banged her gavel. "May God have mercy on your soul."
I felt rough hands grab my arms and drag me off my feet only to pull me back to a new cell block. There were no bars, no windows, and, seemingly, no prisoners. Only locker-esque doors.
A glasses wearing doctor met me by the an open door with a clipboard. "And what did *you* do?" he said before whistling out of amusement. "Boy, I've seen a lot of things here, but that...that's something else."
He reached into his coat and grabbed a syringe. "Maybe this time it'll be different," he said, sticking the needle in my arm before the guards threw me into the room and shut the door behind me, plunging me into darkness.
 
How long has it been? How many hours? How many days? How many years.
There is no light, no sound, no food, no water. There is absolutely nothing in this blackness.
Once, I thought I'd heard someone trying to break me out with a hammer, but it was only my own heart beat.
I had to calm down. They said that the punishment would only be a day. I'm sure they would get me soon.
Or would they? I couldn't be sure. Tons of my friends were never heard from again after insisting on a One Day Sentence. Maybe I was falling down the same path.
 
I had resolved to escape the next chance I got. No matter what awaits me, it cannot be worse than the hell that is nothingness.
After what seemed like centuries, the door opened a crack. I was ready. As soon as it was open enough, I bolted.
I ran. I ran like the wind. I ran like my life depended on it. I ran like my heart was going to explode.
I didn't even bother to look back at the orderly who was no doubt surprised to see me run.
Pushing myself past door after door, I finally found a pair of double doors that looked like the way out.
 
My eyes squinted as they were bombarded by the bright, painful light as soon as the door opened.
"Step forward, Mr. Moraeu," I heard a voice say.
As soon as they adjusted to the familiar courtroom, I awkwardly moved my exhausted legs towards the judge.
"Am I to understand that you want your sentence reduced to a day?" she asked.
Edit: Some minor formatting and grammer | 2015-10-27T08:07:44 | 2015-10-27T07:22:42 | 150 | 46 |
[WP] You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. | I'd... I'd never seen anything like it. It went through her body to the other side. I've seen murderers and heavily experienced con-men with shallower scars. This was... shocking.
The moonlight reflected from her fair, creamy skin as we walked. I looked for more lies, but I could find none. Only the deep one across her chest, the one she showed but never explained. Even the last Pope had two scars, albeit quite shallow.
She swept her silky amber hair to the side and showed a faint smile. She seemed happy, but I was not. I couldn't focus. I needed to know her lie. I *had to know*, but I didn't want to drive her away. I tried the subtle approach, but I'm not too good with subtlety.
"Would you like to know how I got these scars?" I asked, like the Joker after a five-month hospital regimen. My shyness was showing, but I'm not sure she picked up on it.
"Sure, if you want to tell. As long as it doesn't make you uncomfortable."
I pointed to the one on my forearm. That was a... memorable one, to say the least.
"This was when I lied about smoking weed and having sex. I was a dumb teenager who was too dependant on what people thought of me. I wanted to be cool, but I was just a sheltered brat."
"You're a little hard on yourself. We all make mistakes."
Very inspiring, but almost hollow coming from her. I gestured to the deep one on my neck.
"This was when I lied about setting our garage on fire. I was playing around with my dad's lighter when I dropped it on the floor. For some reason, there was gas leaking from the car. The fumes ignited. The whole thing went up in flames. I said it was an electrical problem."
"How much was the damage?"
"100K, including the price of a new car. That drained our savings."
"Wow..."
I finished on my final one, my third one. A very deep one on my stomach. This was my least favorite.
"This was when I lied about checking on grandma when she called our house. I ignored the call and told my parents she was fine. She'd called... she'd called us to say she fell and broke her back on the bathtub... she died the next day... I just... I feel so much guilt... and I told my parents it wasn't my fault..."
"I'm sorry... that's horrible."
"It's fine. The experience lead me to stop lying. I haven't told a lie in over 10 years."
"Me too."
An awkward silence hung over us. Would she talk about the scar? Would she ignore it? No, no no no we're nearing her apartment. I gotta say something!
"I have a question, but you don't have to answer it if it makes you uncomfortable."
"Shoot."
"How did you get that scar across your chest?"
She chuckled a bit, as if amused by my question.
"LARP accident. Some guy brought a real claymore sword. He cut through my foam armor and went straight through my midsection, almost took my upper half off. The doctors say it was a miracle I survived."
It... it wasn't a lie? It was an accident? That's so... relieving! My word, here I was thinking-- wait, is that a new scar on her arm?
She laughed an unconvincing laugh.
"I-I wasn't lying, that was true! I'm not a murderer or anything!"
Another scar popped up.
*And I ran.*
*****
I ran so far awaaaaaay. I just raaaaan, I ran all night and daaaaay. I couldn't get away! /r/Picklestasteg00d.
| I was flirting with being deemed a "Marked One" with my most recent scars. The Marked Ones had a lot of trouble fitting into society. It was an accepted form of prejudice. After all, you weren't judging someone based on race, creed, sexual orientation, hell even college football team allegiance. No, it was purely a judgement based on lies. I had quite a few, but never any big ones. Kept me from getting a job in finance, but I landed plenty of manual labor. Most recently, I had earned myself a spot recycling concrete. I lined up next to a few ex-cons, and a few that I knew were illegal immigrants. George, he had a scar from his eye to his chest...I knew not to ask him about that one.
I was off kilter today. Everything was irritating me, despite my awareness that what I was getting upset over was unimportant to me, my better angels were silent. Finally the boss called us on break for lunch after a tough day on the line. I took a tumble head first and nearly hit my face on an exposed road sign post. I looked down at my squished peanut butter and jelly sandwich, and also George's hammer that he had left out. I got up with rage in my eyes.
"Awww Honey, that's the saddest little sandwich I've ever seen" she said, before I could let out a holler at a giant ex-con.
"You'll have to let me make you some lunch"
I looked over and recognized her. It was the boss's daughter Scarlet. She had come through a few times, and the crew did their best to avert their eyes and hold in their whistles. She was just out of high school, but damn if she wasn't the curviest woman I'd ever seen. Jet black hair, green eyes, freckles, and a ridiculously tight bod. I guess she did gymnastics or something? It was the first time I'd seen her and it wasn't 40 below. She had come by during the winter and brought soup to her dad a few times.
She was wearing a tank top and some silly-tight jeans. She was a "Pure One"...no surprise there. I'm sure her dad provided everything to her, and she didn't have to lie very often. In fact, I didn't see any at all. That was until she turned around to head back to the boss's trailer.
It was the longest and most hideous scar I'd ever seen. I could barely catch pieces of it between her shirt and her pants, but God...it was so wide and deep.
"There's not much here, but I can reheat some of last nights dinner" she caught eyes with me, and I could tell I wasn't hiding my shocked face very well. A nervousness came over her, and she began to tear up. She quickly wiped the tear away and turned to change the subject back to the roast and potatoes she was getting for me.
She laid it out on the desk where I was sitting, and chimed in,
"I saw George's hammer, and I saw you about to get yourself killed--" she looked up. She could tell I was still fixated on her mark.
She paused, "Johnny right? Your name's Johnny?"
I nodded.
"...Listen, if I tell you what it was, you have to promise that you won't tell anyone, and forget you ever saw it."
I nodded, slower this time.
"My Dad, he's been *too* close to me ever since I could remember."
My face of shock and awe turned to a sympathetic one. The pain in her eyes and voice echoed to the bottom of my gut.
"He's abused me and my sister the whole time we've been in the house since Mom went to prison."
She began to cry.
"My little sister Vanessa, she told the police about everything. He was going to be locked away finally. They came to me to corroborate her story, and I...I"
She pointed to the scar.
"He beat her so bad that night, the police chalked it up to her having a creative imagination...That's what I told them, that she had a creative imagination...with all of those little scars on her body. Now she has real ones."
She let out a flurry of tears and sobs.
I already hated Jim, her father. It didn't surprise me that he abused anyone. He worked us like slaves and threw shit around the work site constantly. He fired Tony when his wife got cancer and he couldn't come in. I already wanted to shove my foot up his pretentious ass.
*How could he do that to his own kids?*
It was something I pondered over for the rest of the day. The rest of the day went by quicker. I worked with a rage. A rage of injustice.
The chime rang for the end of the day. I felt a little relief.
I started to walk off and tripped head first and this time I wasn't so lucky. I fell right into an exposed road sign post and it made it's way into bloodying my eye. I looked back, squinting through one good eye. It was George's hammer again. He looked at me nervously as if to say *I'm sorry* with his eyes. I took a deep breath and went over and picked it up to hand to him.
"You clumsy motherfucker. Don't think you're getting any time off for your own bullshit"
It was Jim. I looked up at his face with a blind rage. In a flash I looked down at a bloody hammer. My eye widened. I had just struck him. I looked down at him convulsing as blood shot out of his head. Then it stopped. George looked down with his hand on his neck.
"He's dead Johnny" he said solemnly.
I saw a figure walking slowly off the work site. It was Scarlet. She turned towards me. A scar ripped her face, all the way down to her legs. | 2016-12-29T13:33:19 | 2016-12-29T09:10:58 | 98 | 63 |
[WP] You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. | I had always been comfortable with my scars. Thin silver and white lines were strewn across my skin, but they were small enough that you could only see them if you were standing close to me. I tried my best not to lie to others, but sometimes there was an option worse than deception.
My chemistry lab partner from my freshman year of college had flawless skin. He often seemed distant or tired, but he was kind, hardworking, and by the looks of his skin, incredibly honest. I had never seen anyone like him and was instantly intrigued. Between classwork, study sessions, and late night pizza runs, I found myself falling in love with him. When I asked him if he would ever give me a chance, he said yes. My eyes glanced over his skin to gauge his honesty, but alas, no scars appeared.
Before long, that man was my husband. Mark was never close to his family and focused all his energy on me and making sure that we had an amazing life together. In his vows he told me he would always love me and that I brought a new light to his life. On our honeymoon, his skin was still as flawless as the day he was born, and I knew that he meant every word.
One day I was fixing dinner for Mark and myself. He stepped through the front door after a long day of work and I rushed into his arms to kiss him and ask about his day. He set down his briefcase, loosened his tie, and sighed.
"What's wrong baby?" I asked. With sad eyes, he ever so slightly lifted his head to look at me and mumbled "My father died."
I had never met Mark's father. His parents divorced when he was young, and Mark had a spotty relationship with his father after the divorce. I wasn't sure how deeply this news was affecting my husband, but I grabbed his hand and stretched up to my tip toes to kiss his forehead. Using my free hand to lift up his chin, I looked into Mark's once brilliantly bright eyes and told him I would do whatever he needed me to do.
Six days later, I tightened the tie Mark asked me to pick out for him. I slipped on my heels and told Mark that I would be right beside him as he said his final goodbyes to his father. He chose not to speak at the funeral, but before he left he placed one hand on the casket, closed his eyes, and whispered "I love you, Dad."
That night, I climbed into the shower with Mark to hold him close and comfort him. Sprawled across Mark's back was the longest, deepest scar I had ever seen. My husband's skin had been flawless that morning, and the only thing he had said all day was that he had loved his father.
Concerned, I called Mark's mother the next day while Mark was at work. It took some encouraging, but his mom finally spilled the only secret Mark had ever kept from me. "Hannah, Mark had an older sister. When Mark's father and I divorced, Mark stayed with me and his sister moved in with her dad. When Mark was 11, his dad was driving his sister to a friend's birthday party....only he was drunk. He ran a red light and a car crossing the intersection crashed into the passenger side of the car, killing Mark's sister. I don't think Mark ever saw his father sober after that, and he never fully forgave him."
Disbelieving, I thanked Mark's mother for her time and hung up. I never mentioned the conversation or the new scar to Mark, but I held him a little tighter and kissed him a little longer that night. His skin would never be flawless again, but to me he was still perfect. | I was flirting with being deemed a "Marked One" with my most recent scars. The Marked Ones had a lot of trouble fitting into society. It was an accepted form of prejudice. After all, you weren't judging someone based on race, creed, sexual orientation, hell even college football team allegiance. No, it was purely a judgement based on lies. I had quite a few, but never any big ones. Kept me from getting a job in finance, but I landed plenty of manual labor. Most recently, I had earned myself a spot recycling concrete. I lined up next to a few ex-cons, and a few that I knew were illegal immigrants. George, he had a scar from his eye to his chest...I knew not to ask him about that one.
I was off kilter today. Everything was irritating me, despite my awareness that what I was getting upset over was unimportant to me, my better angels were silent. Finally the boss called us on break for lunch after a tough day on the line. I took a tumble head first and nearly hit my face on an exposed road sign post. I looked down at my squished peanut butter and jelly sandwich, and also George's hammer that he had left out. I got up with rage in my eyes.
"Awww Honey, that's the saddest little sandwich I've ever seen" she said, before I could let out a holler at a giant ex-con.
"You'll have to let me make you some lunch"
I looked over and recognized her. It was the boss's daughter Scarlet. She had come through a few times, and the crew did their best to avert their eyes and hold in their whistles. She was just out of high school, but damn if she wasn't the curviest woman I'd ever seen. Jet black hair, green eyes, freckles, and a ridiculously tight bod. I guess she did gymnastics or something? It was the first time I'd seen her and it wasn't 40 below. She had come by during the winter and brought soup to her dad a few times.
She was wearing a tank top and some silly-tight jeans. She was a "Pure One"...no surprise there. I'm sure her dad provided everything to her, and she didn't have to lie very often. In fact, I didn't see any at all. That was until she turned around to head back to the boss's trailer.
It was the longest and most hideous scar I'd ever seen. I could barely catch pieces of it between her shirt and her pants, but God...it was so wide and deep.
"There's not much here, but I can reheat some of last nights dinner" she caught eyes with me, and I could tell I wasn't hiding my shocked face very well. A nervousness came over her, and she began to tear up. She quickly wiped the tear away and turned to change the subject back to the roast and potatoes she was getting for me.
She laid it out on the desk where I was sitting, and chimed in,
"I saw George's hammer, and I saw you about to get yourself killed--" she looked up. She could tell I was still fixated on her mark.
She paused, "Johnny right? Your name's Johnny?"
I nodded.
"...Listen, if I tell you what it was, you have to promise that you won't tell anyone, and forget you ever saw it."
I nodded, slower this time.
"My Dad, he's been *too* close to me ever since I could remember."
My face of shock and awe turned to a sympathetic one. The pain in her eyes and voice echoed to the bottom of my gut.
"He's abused me and my sister the whole time we've been in the house since Mom went to prison."
She began to cry.
"My little sister Vanessa, she told the police about everything. He was going to be locked away finally. They came to me to corroborate her story, and I...I"
She pointed to the scar.
"He beat her so bad that night, the police chalked it up to her having a creative imagination...That's what I told them, that she had a creative imagination...with all of those little scars on her body. Now she has real ones."
She let out a flurry of tears and sobs.
I already hated Jim, her father. It didn't surprise me that he abused anyone. He worked us like slaves and threw shit around the work site constantly. He fired Tony when his wife got cancer and he couldn't come in. I already wanted to shove my foot up his pretentious ass.
*How could he do that to his own kids?*
It was something I pondered over for the rest of the day. The rest of the day went by quicker. I worked with a rage. A rage of injustice.
The chime rang for the end of the day. I felt a little relief.
I started to walk off and tripped head first and this time I wasn't so lucky. I fell right into an exposed road sign post and it made it's way into bloodying my eye. I looked back, squinting through one good eye. It was George's hammer again. He looked at me nervously as if to say *I'm sorry* with his eyes. I took a deep breath and went over and picked it up to hand to him.
"You clumsy motherfucker. Don't think you're getting any time off for your own bullshit"
It was Jim. I looked up at his face with a blind rage. In a flash I looked down at a bloody hammer. My eye widened. I had just struck him. I looked down at him convulsing as blood shot out of his head. Then it stopped. George looked down with his hand on his neck.
"He's dead Johnny" he said solemnly.
I saw a figure walking slowly off the work site. It was Scarlet. She turned towards me. A scar ripped her face, all the way down to her legs. | 2016-12-29T13:44:06 | 2016-12-29T09:10:58 | 89 | 63 |
[WP] Humans are one of the most feared species in the galaxy. Not due to superior strength,speed,skill or strategy. In fact, it's because in comparison to the other species, humans are just batshit crazy enough to try any half-assed plan they come up with. | Lexicanum Galacticum
Chapter 67
"Humans"
The human species are famous for their insanity and general lack of responsibility,but still they became one of the dominant species in the galaxy after their victory in the War in Heaven.
The human species are divided into 3 grand factions:
1.The Commonwealth
2.The United Coalition of Earth
3.The Empire of Man
The humans most famous deeds include:
Ramming a battleship into a shielded planet-ship to penetrate its barrier,then boarding it and completly destroying it from the inside out.
Making a Class E star go Supernova by transporting much of its matter through a wormhole until it reached critical mass.Thus is how the War in Heaven ended.
Building the largest Titan-class battleship ever.(Approx.lenght 45 human kilometers)
Building doomsday weapons with the sole purpose of having it to look strong.
Invading a parallel plane of existence.
Charging into battle,outnumbered 60:1 while shouting "Tenno hekai banzai!",and proceding to win the battle.
Chainswords.
Declaring war on another empire because "Those idiots don't fight in melee.Thus they fight inglorious and without honour."Then after their only peace demands was to make regular use of melee in the said species's armed forces.
Warping a planet into their enemies fleet.
Going on a suicide mission in the galactic core,then annihilating the scourge of the galaxy,then returning like nothing happened.
Accidentaly creating a god-like entity.Then destroying it with the use of thermofusional missiles.
Using giant electromagnetic guns to launch ships into orbit.
The usage of extradimensional forces to contain another extradimensional force.
Lexicanum Galacticum
Page 31415
| "Commander Trill? They're back at it."
The commander's stomach dropped when he heard his secretary's slightly muffled voice. "I'm sorry, can you repeat? Who's back at what?"
There was a pause. Trill crossed his fingers, a stupid human superstition which had spread like the plague. Maybe, just maybe-
"You know perfectly well who and what I mean, Trill, sir."
The Orakon sighed in defeat, nearly crumpling onto his desk. Yes. Olaos was right. He knew perfectly what and who.
"Just... Just let him in already..." He muttered before straightening up and trying to not look entirely depressed.
It only took a few minutes before he heard the rather loud and obnoxious heel click and foorsteps in the hallway. 'Here we go again...' he thought, and one could've sworn a tear slid down his cheek.
"Trill! How are you?!" Daveson, one of the human's representative, tried to sound cheery. Trill already had his face in his clawed hands. "Please just sit down." He mumbled.
Daveson and his partner (in crime, as far as Trill was concerned), Alma, sat down in front of the huge desk. A few more seconds passed before the commander finally slowly looked up.
"You know the reason for which you're both here today." The pair nodded. "Good. Then let me ask just one question." The two stilled. "Why." Trill looked so truthfully and deeply confused and desperate that Daveson couldn't do much more than give him a quirky grimace trying to pass for a grin.
"Trill, listen-"
"No, you listen. Listen to this." He quickly pulled out the mail which he had scanned on their way to his office. "12 dead, 40 in cryogenic sleep. Daveson, why?"
"It's actually quite a funny story-"
"And it doesn't end there! We all wish it did, of course, but no, no... Daveson, listen to this."
"Trill-"
"40 destroyed structures. Of which 3 were from outer galaxy governments."
"I know it sounds bad-"
"I just want to know... Just.... Daveson, please, please just tell me... Why?"
This time around, Daveson didn't answer. He just stared down at his hands like a scolded child. Trill turned to Alma and gave her a look.
"It has to do with racism, commander.."
"What? I thought you'd abolished race centuries ago?"
"We did too, except there was this hair counting machine..."
"Hair counting machine."
"Yes, and someone found a so said scientific study on the correlation of hair number and race... Depending on if the number of hairs is an even number, odd nunber, multiple of seven, etcetera. A few radical groups took it to heart, sorted themselves out by so called race, found an experimental bomb, and..."
"Would you like to know something, Alma?"
"Y-yes, Commander Trill?"
"It's the 17th time this year you've been here. And between this time and the last three, not a single other species was sent to me for this kind of issues."
"That sure is... Uh..."
"Yes. Exactly as you say." With a bleary look at them, Trill turned on his glasses. "I don't believe you have any... Excuses?" Silence. "Very well then. My job here is done then. You may go."
Alma and Daveson shuffled out much more quietly than they had pranced in. Trill finished typing up a report and sending it down to Olaos.
"Thank you, sir." Said the secretary.
"Do you think they'll ever learn, Olaos?"
Olaos seemed to think for a moment.
"I sure hope so."
"We all do..." | 2017-03-06T02:11:41 | 2017-03-05T22:26:51 | 99 | 46 |
[WP] Everyone on Earth was infected with a disease with no cure. The only thing keeping humanity alive is a drug that fights the disease, but can't kill it. When you run out of money to keep buying your daily dose, you notice something. You're not dead.
Edit: Woh, this blew up. I wasn't expecting that to happen.
Thanks, Internet. | For as long as she could remember, every person around Katie was covered in the pink spots that spoke of a disease which had overtaken the nation, and reportedly the world.
At precisely 7.30 every morning, she would wake up and take her morning pill, the bright yellow one. After five minutes she would have enough energy for the day, and no worries about the spots expanding.
If you forgot to take your pill, experts say you had about 3 hours max before the spots expanded, joined together, and began to infect your body with the disease.
Katie knew she shouldn't have stayed up all night to read, but she couldn't put the book down, and soon it was 3am and she would have to get up in just 4 hours for her morning lectures. Shutting her textbook on disease and death, she set her alarm and fell asleep.
Katie yawned and stretched. Looking out of her dark curtains, she sensed that something was wrong. No, perhaps not wrong, just. Different? It felt like the sun was in a different place.
Glancing at her side table, she noticed that her textbook was pressing down on her alarm clock. "MY PILL!" She huffed as she pulled herself out of bed. Cursing to herself, she moved the textbook and saw the clock.
"It's 10 already!?" She shrieked. She had slept for 7 hours! She looked down at her body and saw that already her spots had began to touch. She rushed out of bed and reached for her pills, only to notice that she had none left...
In her exhaustion last night, she had forgotten to pick up a new dose, and now she had no time! As decisions rushed through her mind, Katie decided to sit still and wait. If nothing happened within the next ten minutes, she would go and find an extra pill somewhere, otherwise, she might be infectious to others.
She sat back down on her bed and watched curiously as her skin began to turn pink. Not a bright luminescent pink, but rather the pink of a new born baby, or a scab that had just healed.
5 minutes.
Nothing
10 minutes
She felt fine
30 minutes
Katie was shocked. How could this be? Her skin was now a normal colour, it actually looked better than it had before. Almost as if the spots had healed her.
After so long, spending all of her small wage from the college bookshop on doses of blue and yellow pills, she was fine. In fact, she was better than fine. She felt great!!
She sighed and looked at her clock. Her next lecture was in an hour, and she knew that she couldn't go to class like this. Everyone would stare at her clean skin.
She pulled on a long sleeve jacket and some jeans. Reaching for her makeup case, she pulled out her lipstick, and got to work painting small pink dots.
------------
This is my first writing prompt attempt. Thought it would be fun! | As I laced my tattered shoes on my aching feet, I could feel my heart pulsating in my ear drums. I'd never been so afraid. Never felt so alone. It even took me a few moments to realize that I'd been fumbling hopelessly with my laces because of how much my hands were shaking. I took a deep breath and repeated the same words that had kept me going up to this point. "He'll go for it. He has to go for it." I whispered to myself. I pushed off from my bed with a loud creak and grabbed my Lucky Stop t-shirt from the hamper. I pulled it over my head and instantly the stench overwhelmed me. However I kept my composure as I started down the steps that bombarded me with more familiar creeks and groans. I passed by the washing machine in the laundry room as I walked though the living room. The rusty old thing had stopped working weeks ago. I'd been hand washing our clothes since then, with soap that just ran out yesterday. I shuffled anxiously into the kitchen where my trusted companion sat waiting patiently.
I loved my bike, it was the only thing I owned that still looked new. As I looked at it, sweet and sour memories of my mother and I soaring through the trails in the woods flooded my mind. She was so lively and carefree then. As I pulled my bike to the front door, I glanced quickly at the guest room where my mother now slept because the stairs had become too much for her. Her breathing was a little labored, but no worst than usual. I'd placed her pill bottles on the night stand next to her for when she woke. And the clear glass vial of green liquid that kept me up at night, sat right next to them. The green glow tempting me to come closer. I turned and quickly darted out the door before my mother woke and saw me, possibly for the last time, or before I did something I'd regret.
The check that my mom recieved monthly from the government should arrive by tomorrow, I thought as I pedaled madly towards Lucky Stop. That would keep her covered for a month of vials, and so on each month wity just enough let over for food. In that case however she'd need to stop taking her pills for some period of time to afford the vials. The thought alone made me shudder with fear. As I pulled to Lucky Stop I related the words to myself once more, a little louder this time. "He'll go for it. He has to go for it." I sobbed, as tears rolled down my cheeks. On the front window was a blown up picture of that same precious glass vial bubbling with bright emerald liquid. On the picture in bold lettering was Lucky's new Lyf ad. It read 'New Low Prices, Replenish Yourself With Daily Lyf Bio Supplements Today.' I wiped my tears and entered convenience store. Lucky saw me instantly, a grim look hung on his face. However, I went forward with my proposal all the same.
"So Lucky, I know things have been slow recently, but I was hoping you could give me an advance for today. J-just enough for a couple vials. My mom's leukemia has progressed a bit and the prices of the drugs she needs now are insane. So please I just need-"
Lucky cuts me off. "Get out."
I'm dumbfounded. "I work today though and I really need the hours."
He raised his voice this time. "I said get out! I know you've been stealing vials. Why do you think I moved the supply into the back? I felt sorry for your poor mother, so I kept you on, but I have mouths to feed too. I'm afraid they're more important."
After that, I don't even remember leaving the store, but I do know that I wound up in some back alley, way downtown. My prized possession sat against the wall opposite of me, taunting me with the promises of what was and what could've been. I knew I couldn't go home, my mom couldn't take it if she found me. I pressed my head against the filthy brick wall and glanced at my bike one last time. I closed my eyes, satisfied that at the very least it was the last thing I'd see.
When I opened my eyes, I was shocked to see my beloved bike was gone, probably stolen in the night. I was even more shocked to find that I was not gone. I looked up at the sun and for the first time in a long time, I smiled. Then I laughed. I laughed alone in that dank alley for hours. People passed by me and stared awkwardly or scowled. It was then that I noticed how sickly they all seemed. Many were coughing or sneezing and others just seemed genuinely miserable. I began to wonder when the last time I'd seen a person smile or crack a joke. I'm sure I'd questioned it before and chalked it up to the virus, but as I looked out from that grimy alleyway, feeling the best I had in years, I wasn't so sure anymore. | 2017-07-14T14:46:36 | 2017-07-14T12:52:49 | 54 | 11 |
[WP] The Rapture has begun. All true Christians have been raptured to Heaven. The Antichrist has risen, and Jesus has made his second coming. This all happened four years ago, and nobody has noticed yet. | I saw it happen, you know.
She was an old lady that lived four doors down the street. She always wore her cross and a rosary, always went to church on Sunday. She donated to charity. I didn't know her all that well, but I always bade her good morning and asked how she was when we crossed paths. Elizabeth, I think she was called.
I went to get a pint of milk from the shop, we'd almost run out, so I was out earlier than usual. There she was, tottering down the street with her plaid handbag that really was too large for her. She must have been on the way to bingo or something.
And then she was gone.
Poof, just like that. A flash of light and she was gone, handbag and all. I thought I'd imagined it, but no matter how I blinked and stared she did not re-appear.
She got reported missing, but they never found her. She had just vanished into thin air, her house untouched and empty. In the end her grandson had to sell it off and I adopted one of her cats, a calico that she'd called Danielle for some reason.
It wasn't until four years later than I found out what happened.
It was late spring, the days were getting warmer and I could finally ditch that awful old winter coat I'd never bothered to replace. I had the day off so I decided to take a walk around the local park. Not long after I arrived I found a man with long dark hair and thick beard looking rather dejected as he sat on a bench. His skin was dark and weather-beaten, like he had spent a long time outdoors in the sun and his hands were callused and just as weather-worn. Seeing as there was no one else around, it didn't feel right to leave the poor man to himself.
I sat down besides him and asked him what was wrong. When he spoke, his voice was soft and almost hypnotic, his accent was thick but I couldn't quite place it. It sounded like he was from somewhere out in the east though. Syrian maybe?
"I've had this... project I have been working on for a long time, but it just doesn't seem to be working out at all. We didn't get the turnout we expected and no one seems to have noticed anything at all! Even the guy I was supposed to partner up on this went off and decided to go work Vegas instead!"
Project? Sounded like some sort of business deal, "You can't get a new partner for it? Maybe your advertising needed tweaking if you got such low interest?"
He shook his head, "We got interest alright but it just didn't work out. Either they got the core message we were putting out or they got the idea that we wanted to get everyone together before the big day, but only a tiny number of folk actually got both. Even then it was restricted entirely to America when we wanted to go global! Nowhere else got the rapture idea."
I blinked, "Rapture? That what you called it? Well there's your problem. They probably thought you were one of those televangelist types. Probably needed a different name for it. Look, what's your name?"
"Yeshua," he said.
"Alright Yeshua, lets go get a drink and talk about things. Maybe you can get your project back on track if you re-brand it. We can spitball ideas over a beer."
He gave a thin smile, "I prefer wine."
You know it took me until he literally turned the water on our table to wine that I realised what an odd name Yeshua is these days? | See .. my Grammy Mac always told me that it would happen and no one would notice , until I was 14 I believed her . She passed away and I lost faith in a god a few years after that when I lost 4 of my best friends and my girlfriend in a car wreck and I was the only one to survive . The very night it happened I lost faith. We had just left church and I was in the back with Jacquie and Bill, Will, Elliott, and Andy were sitting in front of us and I was talking to them and the youth pastor about what if god didn't exist , at the time I was questioning if he was real or not . Before I could finish we smashed into a semi with it's light off that had stalled in the road . I was thrown from the van because I hadn't been wearing a seat belt every one else burned alive . I remember trying to crawl back to the van . I don't remember screaming or anything else . The truck driver had over dosed during the daylight hours and his truck had stopped on the road . It took me a whole two and a half years before I was fully recovered . I could walk again .. and the first thing I did was walk to my girlfriends parents house . I talked with them for a while and caught up with my girls brother who had been in the same grade as me . I never got the courage to talk about Jacquie with them and I think they had taken it harder then me because they had taken down all the pictures of her and didn't even bring her up .. a year and a half later I was walking my dog in the park and I saw an old class mate , Tim. I went up to him and started talking to him and he asked me what had happened but when I mentioned Bill, Will, elliot, Andy and, Jacquie having been killed in the accident he looked confused and said he didn't remember them from school. That stuck me as odd because we were from a fairly small school in a small town . But I just let it slide and said my goodbye and went on about my day . A week later I was visiting my parents and I noticed that all the pictures of my Aunt Christine and her kids were not hung up anymore I asked my mom about her and she said she never had a sister and I must have been thinking about someone else's aunt . At this point I knew she was mistaken because Aunt Chris was my only aunt and was the only reason I had ever knew my Grammy Mac. I ate dinner with them and didn't touch on the subject again . The next day I went back to see my gf's parents but it was just her dad at the house so we sat outside and talked about his son going to college and after talking to him for about an hour I brought it up . I asked him about Jacqui. He looked at me for along time with a puzzled look on his face and then with out a word got up and went in side . I was going to follow him but he slammed the door in my face and it auto locked I paced the back porch for about three minutes be for I saw him coming back and he was holding a box in his arms. When he opened the door he told me to sit back down so I did and he did too . He sat across from me with a look of pure anguish on his face. So much pain and confusion was coming from him that it made me hurt and confused .
"John " he said looking me in the eyes .
"In this box is the only thing I have left . I need you to know that what I'm about to tell you you can never tell anyone . !!" He said , his voice was crackling .
"Yea I won't tell anyone . I promise " I said with a shaky stammer.
He cleared his throat .
" four years ago I started my first night as an EMT. It was also my last night as an EMT . I was at the crash and I remember my daughter being there in the crash as well and I remember you're the only survivor of that crash . That night I lost my daughter and I came home to tell barb and that night I almost killed her with my bare hands because she swore on our son that she had never birthed a daughter . She swore to god himself that we had only had Tim. That we had always talked about having a girl be it never happened . That night I thought I had lost my mind and the next day Tim even refused to tell me the truth . For almost four years now I've believed that I had a mental break after seeing a wreck that I made up a daughter. But after you came by a few weeks ago I started going through stuff in the attic I came across this box ."
He opened it and pushed it towards me . I hesitated to look in but when I did I saw an old Polaroid with a faded picture of me and Jacquie from when we was 14 or so in school. It was the first time I met her . I wasn't faded but she was . She was almost completely see through . It didn't make any sense . Everyone who knew her had forgotten her . A million things where running through my mind and then Tim busted through the back door and started scream at his dad the nukes he's just been launched we all ran to the living room just in time to catch president Trump being beheaded on live t.v. by a very tall man who looked like a model but was so tall and his arms and legs were to long for his body .
I don't remember much after that just a very bright flash and a burning sensation then I woke up here sitting in this chair waiting for the ticket I have to be called . I can see Jacquie's dad and mom in a few rows behind me but every time I call out to them one of the guards walking around screams at me to be quiet .. | 2017-09-08T05:11:38 | 2017-09-08T01:17:42 | 22 | 10 |
[WP] A group of fantasy adventures has one of their members replaced by a Doppelganger. The rest of the group realizes what happened, but keep pretending to be fooled since they like the doppelganger a lot more than the guy it replaced. | "A fine...mead?!" Rorik shouts over the din of the tavern. His companions smile and nod along with him as he sings some old barbarian tune.
Sings it wrong. They don't tell him that though.
Delia, the group's cleric leans over to their mage.
"Do you think he knows?"
Melvar just shakes his head and holds out a palm towards their massive friend. Friend as of lately, of course. Rorik was a massive pain for the group long before the shifter stole his face.
"He definitely doesn't but...I think I like him. Rorik was a bit of a jerk, always running off into the dungeons with that stupid battlecry. Remember when we went into the Crypt of Alohar, how many good people did he get killed?"
"Yeah...he's kinda cute now. Like a child or something."
They both watch Rorik move around the tavern with his mug and talk to other groups of adventurers. He's loud but not overbearing. He listens to the stories of others instead of telling his own. He drinks but not to excess. He is nothing like the barbarian they all had come to know and...
Melvar doesn't quite finish the thought.
"You know what Del, I like him. I know he's a shifter but look at everyone. We all know and he's trying so hard to be like Rorik but he just can't. I don't think there's a mean bone in that thing's body. You know that he hasn't made fun of my beard once, not in months."
She snorts. The young mage was trying so hard to grow it out and he'd been self-conscious about it for months.
A warrior passing by their table to his own party leans over and whispers it to the pair.
"You should keep him. He's an improvement."
"Friends!" Rorik shouts, sitting again at their table, "What fun! And we do this between every adventure? And people give us gold to go on those adventures? To spend here? Amazing!"
He is off again before they can even respond.
"Do you think The Dwarf knows?" Melvar watches Rorik join another random group of adventures and sing yet another song. Still wrong.
Delia shrugs.
"I don't know and I don't care. We're gonna keep him. He's like a dog or something. But useful."
Melvar strokes his "beard" for a moment.
"Alright, we'll keep him. But I swear if he ever makes fun of my beard-"
"What? You'll strangle him with one of your wisps? You should really shave, you're looking more like a magical hobo than a wizard. 'I cast: smell of unwashedness!'"
As she walks away laughing at her own joke Melvar narrows his eyes. He lifts his mug and mutters something into it before drinking.
"I'll replace you too if I have to..." | "That was..." Brawg began, staggering over the bodies of the fallen goblins, his boots squelching in the treacle-like blood.
"Far too..." said Vesperr, returning her bow to her back, and beginning to pluck out arrows from the deceased enemies.
"Oxyrin!" finished Oxyrin, his pointed hat falling over his eyes once again. Dribble oozed down from his mouth and his pupils spun this way and that, as if two compasses confused by magnets.
Brawg and Vesperr looked at each other for a moment, then burst out laughing. Brawg brought a thunderous hand down on the wizard's back. "Don't ever change, Oxyrin!" he said.
"Oh, Oxyrin," grinned Vesperr, "you're the reason we do this, you know? For that smile on your face." She wiped away a the spittle from his lips, then shook her finger, sending the spit plopping onto the ground.
"Oxyrin!" Oxyrin repeated. A pointed tongue darted out of his mouth and latched onto a fly that was hovering over a brutalised body below.
"I'm going to pretend I didn't just see that," said Brawg with a wink. "Okay gang, I'd say we're all done here. I believe its time to go collect our reward."
"Not so fast, my friends," came a mysterious voice from behind them. Only, when they turned, there was *nothing* behind them.
Slowly, the blue-robed wizard hazed into existence. "It is I, the *real* Oxyrin! I have been trapped for the longest time, but I have finally outsmarted my captors and have returned to my friends. For no one is as clever as the Great Oxyrin!"
Brawg and Vesperr glanced at each other, then let out a joint gasp.
"Quite you might gasp," said Oxyrin, as he turned and pointed an accusing finger at the other blue wizard, who was now on all fours chasing after a spider. "For that fellow, has fooled you, my dear friends. But he is nothing more than an impostor! A Doppelganger! A fake, a fraud, and dare I say it, a phoney."
Brawg nudged Vesperr and they both gasped again.
"How.. erm, how can we believe you?" asked Vesperr, her top lip wet with nervous sweat. "How do we know he--"she pointed to the to the wizard, who was now chewing on something--"isn't the real Oxyrin. After all, he would have had to fool us both for two entire years."
Oxyrin rolled his eyes. "Hardly a challenging task. You two never were the"--his hands burst into blue flames--"brightest sparks. Ha. Hahaha."
Brawg's muscles tensed. Vesperr put a hand against his chest.
"That's not proof enough. For our Oxyrin can also do such petty parlour tricks."
"Very well," Oxyrin sighed, "I shall prove it. We shall have a wizard-off."
"Smart," said Vesperr. She let out a high pitched whistle, at which the other Oxyrin came bounding over to her.
"Oxyrin!" he sputtered as he arrived.
"Is that all he can say? How could you *possibly* believe he was me?"
"Good point," said Brawg. "His vocabulary is much larger."
"Oh. You made a joke. How very amusing."
"Okay," said Vesperr. "Round one of the wizard-off. *Shape-shifting.*"
"What? What a stupid round," complained Oxyrin, "for sniffing out a shape-shifter!" His face was red and a vein popped out of his forehead, pulsating like waves on the ocean. "Unbelievable idiocy. How you have possibly survived this long without me to guide you -- heaven only knows!"
"Oxyrin!" replied the other Oxyrin.
"Well, if you can't do it and he can..." said Brawg shrugging, "then I guess we know who the real wizard is."
"Oh... *pish!* Very well. And what must we change into, pray tell?"
"Something very small. To really challenge your morphitisation skills. A fly. Simple. First one to transform into a fly wins."
"Sala kazoo, Sala kazam!" shouted Oxyrin. There was a puff of smoke that left Vesperr and Brawg coughing. As it cleared, and only for the briefest moment, they saw a fly. Then, they saw a huge, pointed tongue. Finally, they saw an Oxyrin chewing on and then swallowing *something*.
"Oxyrin!" he shouted triumphantly, as Brawg and Vesperr collapsed into a fit of laughter.
"Oh Oxyrin," said Brawg, slapping him on the back "you really are too much."
"And," said Vesperr, "we wouldn't have it any other way!"
| 2017-09-15T07:29:21 | 2017-09-15T05:03:01 | 5,321 | 788 |
[WP] A group of fantasy adventures has one of their members replaced by a Doppelganger. The rest of the group realizes what happened, but keep pretending to be fooled since they like the doppelganger a lot more than the guy it replaced. | Approaching the city gate, the adventurers stiffen as the guards halt their way. Of course, Mr. Nobility has to be the one to step forward and speak for the group. Marian lightly touches her bow, prepared to ready an arrow if her arrogant companion gets them into trouble again.
"Greetings, my good men. My name is Hector of the house Rellon. Do you happen to have any directions for a band of weary travelers? We seek no conflict, only a comfortable place to rest for the night."
Sora and Fiera share a look. The last time they entered a new city, he tried to march right past the guards, drawing his sword when they stopped him. They had to find accommodations in a dingy little inn outside the city gates, where the other patrons all gave the distinct impression of being criminals.
Now, though, one guard obligingly gave them directions, and Hector... Hector actually thanked him, and clapped his back like they were old friends. The guard laughed cheerfully and sent them on their way. This was wrong. Hector didn't have friends. He didn't make friends. The only reason his companions hadn't booted him was his skill in combat, which had just barely saved them from more problems than his personality had gotten them into.
That night, as Hector remained in the common room to buy another round for the crowd... an unusual act of generosity... the others gathered in the private room they'd booked.
"Do you remember earlier today, when he left to investigate that noise in the trees?" Asked Sora.
Marian nodded. "But there was nothing there."
"I know," said Sora, "But what if he lied?"
"You think he could be under someone's control?" Fiera chimed in. "I could dispel any magic that might be around him."
Sora shook his head. "I don't think it's control. He hasn't hurt us or been irrational. He's just... *different*. I think he's been replaced."
"That's pretty far-fetched." Marian's voice was skeptical.
"It's happened before," said Sora. "Not all shapeshifters are evil. Some of them just want a safe group to live among. A family. Like what we are to Hector, even though he's an asshole who doesn't deserve us."
Fiera narrowed her eyes. "How do you know so much about shapeshifters?"
Sora sighed. It was time to come clean. "Because I'm one of them. You guys didn't know the real Sora. He tried to raid my nest. Would have gotten a good part of my family killed, as well as his whole group, if I hadn't taken his place. Foolhardy bastard. His friends figured me out, though. I barely escaped, and by then I was used to this form."
"No." Fiera shook her head. "You can't just replace people. The real Hector..."
"The real Hector didn't give a toss about any of us," said Marian. "Do you really think he's worth our compassion? When was the last time he extended any to you?"
Fiera was quiet for a minute, remembering the time she'd broken a leg fighting a troll. And Hector elected to carry the troll's treasure chest out of the dungeon, leaving her to hobble after him using a giant club as a makeshift crutch. "I guess if this shapeshifter is anything like you, Sora, it's probably an improvement."
"I know I was," commented Marian. "My new parents must have known something was different, but the family got along so much better with me in her place that they never questioned it."
Fiera stood from her chair, backing toward the door. "Are you shapeshifters going to replace everybody?"
"No," said Sora and Marian simultaneously.
Sora continued. "You're a good person, Fiera. We only take the place of assholes. People whose absence would actually improve things. For everybody, not just those of us who can change our form. Trust me, Fiera." He smiled, the friendly expression that Fiera had come to find reassuring after the years they'd spent together. "You have nothing to worry about."
Edit: typo | I added a little twist but I think it's still good, non the less. Here.
"AAHHH! Tavian! I need your help!"
"What can I do?"
"Ray of Frost!? Something! ANYTHING! JUST GET THIS THING OFF ME!"
A small harmless slug had fallen onto Yeralia's shoulder, while the party was traveling out of the Forest of Traggleroot. Tavian, being a Barbarian, simply flicked the slug off of her. Saviak and Prantin were watching the whole debacle take place, giggling like goblins about to botch an ambush.
“You do know I'm not an Eldritch Knight, right?”
"Thank you Tavian, I know,” she said, wiping away the slime, “I can always rely on you."
"Even when I almost sacrificed you to my gods?"
Yeralia simply forgot that ever happened.
“Well, let's let bygones be bygones, eh, Tavian?”
“That not like the Yer…”
“Uppupupup!,” Saviak interrupted, covering Tavians mouth. There was a brief pause. He continues, “We just defeated a shapeshifter! Let's go celebrate at the tavern and… Prantin can play the lute as we venture to town! Yeah, sound like a plan?”
Saviak releases Tavians mouth, “Uh.. sure! I am ready to get our reward! How about we get going? I need to mourn the loss Kenneth.”
Tavian didn't know Yeralia was actually the shapeshifter. Saviak was a smooth talker, some paladins are, and Tavian doesn't have very much intelligence, most Barbarians don't. The party walk along the path while Prantin plays his lute like a pro. He began to sing a song.
“In memory of Kenneth, the Thief that broke the rules, taught us the Cant and then was shot by the thieves guild. How bad. Sooooo saaad!”
“He didn't teach me or Yeralia Thieves Cant.” Tavian barked.
Prantin replied in singsong, “That's because you and the mage were really druuunk!”
“Oh… good point,” Tavian realized.
“Isn’t thieves cant like secret messages people can share in the open?,” said Yeralia.
“If Kenneth was here he’d say, ‘...maybe.’ I think his carefree nature is what caused the guild to turn on him.” Saviak answered. “By the way… I’ll sing with yoooou, Prantin,”
“Okay! Let's sing, 'Lucky Man's Strife?!’ an improv song from the Bards College,” Prantin said, winking at Saviak.
“Oh! I'd love to hear it! I can't wait!” Yeralia danced.
Prantin starts. “Well!
This is the tale of a lucky old fellow (Tavian is catching on)
Whose smile was grand! Big, bright and yellow (He might get angry)
He had friends, he had a history and now has a wife (She's not convincing enough)
But to him life was a mystery, just the lucky man's strife! (What should we do?)
I had a note that led me to it, a house on the hill (We need to tell him)
To ask for the charm. The luck and the will. (or at least hint at it)
He told me No! And he went on his way (he might leave or… worse)
He took for the hills, there was no time to stay! (Do you have an idea?)”
Saviak joins in the chorus,
“This is the tale of a lucky old fellow (Tavian is catching on)
Whose smile was grand! Big, bright and yellow (He might get angry)
He had friends, he had a history , now he has a wife(She's not convincing enough)
But to him life was a mystery, just the lucky man's strife (What should we do?)”
Saviak replies, in verse,
“I followed the man, he walked steadfast (He might not care though)
He look so tired, he was ready to pass (if he's angry he'll get over it)
I soon found out; the old man had a wife(we can change the subject to her now)
And was dumb struck with fear, as she came with a knife. (She was a back stabbing woman)”
Both Tavian and Yeralia join,
“This is the tale of a lucky old fellow,
Whose smile was grand! Big, bright and yellow!
He had friends, he had a history, he now has a wife
But to him life was a mystery, just the lucky man's Strife!”
Tavian sings, off key the entire time,
“The wife came up and shouted, almost caught me in the neck. (???)
I'm know I had to duck, so I hit the deck! (???)
I was pointed to the house, told to go in. (???)
The old man came too, he gave me a pin.(???)
They're all singing as the walk into the town. The tavern was near the entrance of the town so they walked in, still singing,
“This is the tale of a lucky old fellow,
Whose smile was grand! Big, bright and yellow!
He had friends, he had a history, he now has a wife
But to him life was a mystery, just the lucky man's Strife!”
The party sits down and Yeralia finishes the song with great finesse,
“The pin looked like silver, but I know my steel (You know, don't you?)
I felt ripped off, I know how you feel(I could bring her back if you want me to)"
Prantin and Savaik sing in unison reply,
“I took the grey pin, and I'm filled with glee! (We like you way more)
Now I am a man who is just as lucky! (We're glad to have you!)"
“This is the tale of a lucky old fellow,
My smile became grand! Big, bright and yellow!
I had friends, I had a history, I now have a wife
But to me life is a mystery, just the lucky man's Strife!” | 2017-09-15T08:23:49 | 2017-09-15T04:39:41 | 223 | 13 |
[WP] A group of fantasy adventures has one of their members replaced by a Doppelganger. The rest of the group realizes what happened, but keep pretending to be fooled since they like the doppelganger a lot more than the guy it replaced. | Approaching the city gate, the adventurers stiffen as the guards halt their way. Of course, Mr. Nobility has to be the one to step forward and speak for the group. Marian lightly touches her bow, prepared to ready an arrow if her arrogant companion gets them into trouble again.
"Greetings, my good men. My name is Hector of the house Rellon. Do you happen to have any directions for a band of weary travelers? We seek no conflict, only a comfortable place to rest for the night."
Sora and Fiera share a look. The last time they entered a new city, he tried to march right past the guards, drawing his sword when they stopped him. They had to find accommodations in a dingy little inn outside the city gates, where the other patrons all gave the distinct impression of being criminals.
Now, though, one guard obligingly gave them directions, and Hector... Hector actually thanked him, and clapped his back like they were old friends. The guard laughed cheerfully and sent them on their way. This was wrong. Hector didn't have friends. He didn't make friends. The only reason his companions hadn't booted him was his skill in combat, which had just barely saved them from more problems than his personality had gotten them into.
That night, as Hector remained in the common room to buy another round for the crowd... an unusual act of generosity... the others gathered in the private room they'd booked.
"Do you remember earlier today, when he left to investigate that noise in the trees?" Asked Sora.
Marian nodded. "But there was nothing there."
"I know," said Sora, "But what if he liked?"
"You think he could be under someone's control?" Fiera chimed in. "I could dispel any magic that might be around him."
Sora shook his head. "I don't think it's control. He hasn't hurt us or been irrational. He's just... *different*. I think he's been replaced."
"That's pretty far-fetched." Marian's voice was skeptical.
"It's happened before," said Sora. "Not all shapeshifters are evil. Some of them just want a safe group to live among. A family. Like what we are to Hector, even though he's an asshole who doesn't deserve us."
Fiera narrowed her eyes. "How do you know so much about shapeshifters?"
Sora sighed. It was time to come clean. "Because I'm one of them. You guys didn't know the real Sora. He tried to raid my nest. Would have gotten a good part of my family killed, as well as his whole group, if I hadn't taken his place. Foolhardy bastard. His friends figured me out, though. I barely escaped, and by then I was used to this form."
"No." Fiera shook her head. "You can't just replace people. The real Hector..."
"The real Hector didn't give a toss about any of us," said Marian. "Do you really think he's worth our compassion? When was the last time he extended any to you?"
Fiera was quiet for a minute, remembering the time she'd broken a leg fighting a troll. And Hector elected to carry the troll's treasure chest out of the dungeon, leaving her to hobble after him using a giant club as a makeshift crutch. "I guess if this shapeshifter is anything like you, Sora, it's probably an improvement."
"I know I was," commented Marian. "My new parents must have known something was different, but the family got along so much better with me in her place that they never questioned it."
Fiera stood from her chair, backing toward the door. "Are you shapeshifters going to replace everybody?"
"No," said Sora and Marian simultaneously.
Sora continued. "You're a good person, Fiera. We only take the place of assholes. People whose absence would actually improve things. For everybody, not just those of us who can change our form. Trust me, Fiera." He smiled, the friendly expression that Fiera had come to find reassuring after the years they'd spent together. "You have nothing to worry about." | I added a little twist but I think it's still good, non the less. Here.
"AAHHH! Tavian! I need your help!"
"What can I do?"
"Ray of Frost!? Something! ANYTHING! JUST GET THIS THING OFF ME!"
A small harmless slug had fallen onto Yeralia's shoulder, while the party was traveling out of the Forest of Traggleroot. Tavian, being a Barbarian, simply flicked the slug off of her. Saviak and Prantin were watching the whole debacle take place, giggling like goblins about to botch an ambush.
“You do know I'm not an Eldritch Knight, right?”
"Thank you Tavian, I know,” she said, wiping away the slime, “I can always rely on you."
"Even when I almost sacrificed you to my gods?"
Yeralia simply forgot that ever happened.
“Well, let's let bygones be bygones, eh, Tavian?”
“That not like the Yer…”
“Uppupupup!,” Saviak interrupted, covering Tavians mouth. There was a brief pause. He continues, “We just defeated a shapeshifter! Let's go celebrate at the tavern and… Prantin can play the lute as we venture to town! Yeah, sound like a plan?”
Saviak releases Tavians mouth, “Uh.. sure! I am ready to get our reward! How about we get going? I need to mourn the loss Kenneth.”
Tavian didn't know Yeralia was actually the shapeshifter. Saviak was a smooth talker, some paladins are, and Tavian doesn't have very much intelligence, most Barbarians don't. The party walk along the path while Prantin plays his lute like a pro. He began to sing a song.
“In memory of Kenneth, the Thief that broke the rules, taught us the Cant and then was shot by the thieves guild. How bad. Sooooo saaad!”
“He didn't teach me or Yeralia Thieves Cant.” Tavian barked.
Prantin replied in singsong, “That's because you and the mage were really druuunk!”
“Oh… good point,” Tavian realized.
“Isn’t thieves cant like secret messages people can share in the open?,” said Yeralia.
“If Kenneth was here he’d say, ‘...maybe.’ I think his carefree nature is what caused the guild to turn on him.” Saviak answered. “By the way… I’ll sing with yoooou, Prantin,”
“Okay! Let's sing, 'Lucky Man's Strife?!’ an improv song from the Bards College,” Prantin said, winking at Saviak.
“Oh! I'd love to hear it! I can't wait!” Yeralia danced.
Prantin starts. “Well!
This is the tale of a lucky old fellow (Tavian is catching on)
Whose smile was grand! Big, bright and yellow (He might get angry)
He had friends, he had a history and now has a wife (She's not convincing enough)
But to him life was a mystery, just the lucky man's strife! (What should we do?)
I had a note that led me to it, a house on the hill (We need to tell him)
To ask for the charm. The luck and the will. (or at least hint at it)
He told me No! And he went on his way (he might leave or… worse)
He took for the hills, there was no time to stay! (Do you have an idea?)”
Saviak joins in the chorus,
“This is the tale of a lucky old fellow (Tavian is catching on)
Whose smile was grand! Big, bright and yellow (He might get angry)
He had friends, he had a history , now he has a wife(She's not convincing enough)
But to him life was a mystery, just the lucky man's strife (What should we do?)”
Saviak replies, in verse,
“I followed the man, he walked steadfast (He might not care though)
He look so tired, he was ready to pass (if he's angry he'll get over it)
I soon found out; the old man had a wife(we can change the subject to her now)
And was dumb struck with fear, as she came with a knife. (She was a back stabbing woman)”
Both Tavian and Yeralia join,
“This is the tale of a lucky old fellow,
Whose smile was grand! Big, bright and yellow!
He had friends, he had a history, he now has a wife
But to him life was a mystery, just the lucky man's Strife!”
Tavian sings, off key the entire time,
“The wife came up and shouted, almost caught me in the neck. (???)
I'm know I had to duck, so I hit the deck! (???)
I was pointed to the house, told to go in. (???)
The old man came too, he gave me a pin.(???)
They're all singing as the walk into the town. The tavern was near the entrance of the town so they walked in, still singing,
“This is the tale of a lucky old fellow,
Whose smile was grand! Big, bright and yellow!
He had friends, he had a history, he now has a wife
But to him life was a mystery, just the lucky man's Strife!”
The party sits down and Yeralia finishes the song with great finesse,
“The pin looked like silver, but I know my steel (You know, don't you?)
I felt ripped off, I know how you feel(I could bring her back if you want me to)"
Prantin and Savaik sing in unison reply,
“I took the grey pin, and I'm filled with glee! (We like you way more)
Now I am a man who is just as lucky! (We're glad to have you!)"
“This is the tale of a lucky old fellow,
My smile became grand! Big, bright and yellow!
I had friends, I had a history, I now have a wife
But to me life is a mystery, just the lucky man's Strife!” | 2017-09-15T06:04:09 | 2017-09-15T04:39:41 | 193 | 13 |
[WP] A group of fantasy adventures has one of their members replaced by a Doppelganger. The rest of the group realizes what happened, but keep pretending to be fooled since they like the doppelganger a lot more than the guy it replaced. | The light was fading quickly, they needed to get camp set up. Mordram the warlock spoke an incantation, a small pile of tinder lit just below his fingertips. He began pulling some rations out of his pack. Aisha was busy praying to the setting sun, she wouldn’t help until the last glimmer of light left the western sky. Archibauld figured he’d at least use the little bugger until they decided what to do with him.
“Hey Eric, can you go get us some water from the river down there?” The orc perked up, he pointed at himself sheepishly, looking behind him to see if anyone else might be the target of the request. When he saw no one else moving, he hopped up; he immediately forgot the broken lyre that he had been trying, very unsuccessfully, to play.
“Elric fetch water? Yes, yes. Elric fetches the best water! You will see. The water for his friends! Best friends of Elric the music man!!!” He started galloping towards the river, only to have to turn back to grab the pail that he had forgotten at Archibauld’s feet.
Mordram spoke up once the orc was out of earshot, “Don’t get attached, we’ll have to do something about him soon. He’s a liability.”
Archibauld was setting up the tent, he noticed some blood stains on the yellow fabric, the original Eric had been carrying it,”He’s been following us for weeks—” Mordram’s eyebrow raised “—exactly, he wasn’t part of the ambush. He killed that bugbear once Eric went down.”
Aisha stood up, dusted off her knees, “I sense no ill will in him.”
“He’s going to slit our throats in our sleep, or bring a whole army of orcs down on us—” Mordram had set up a small pot over the fire, he just needed the water from the river.”—Also, I think it’s really creepy he’s trying to take over Eric’s identity.”
Aisha snorted, “He hasn’t hit on me a single time, so he hasn’t done that good a job.”
Archibauld moved on to his longbow, pulling out some oil and cloth, “Like I said, he’s been following us for weeks. How many times could he have tried to ambush us or bring his clan on us? I think he’s alone. Without Eric, we’re down one. The prophet said we needed four…”
Aisha jumped in, “Mordy, you didn’t even want Eric to come.”
“I don’t give a shit about Eric, he was a liability, too. I just don’t want a bloody orc staring over me while we sleep.” Mordram walked off towards the edge of camp, looking North to where they’d find their final destination.”—We do need a fourth…”
Archibauld clapped him on the shoulder, Mordram hadn’t heard him come up behind him, he hated rangers, “Thats the spirit, Mordy! We’ll have him sleep outside the tent, Aisha will let us know if she senses anything wrong with him.”
A rustle from the bushes alerted the three that their new companion was returning. He stumbled into the clearing with a full pail of water and three fish hanging from a string.
“Hullo friends of Elric my human person that I am! Hullo, Elric brings gifts of delicious fishes for eating with his best friends. Let Elric play beauty sounds while you burn delicious foods on fires because that is how humans like us eat delicious foods.” He dropped the water and fish by the fire, then hopped on his rock and began picking at the broken lyre.
Mordram exchanged a smirk with Aisha and Archibauld, “We’re very glad you’re back…Elric. Play us a human song for us to eat delicious foods.”
Elric chirped with glee, his grin taking up his whole face. | I added a little twist but I think it's still good, non the less. Here.
"AAHHH! Tavian! I need your help!"
"What can I do?"
"Ray of Frost!? Something! ANYTHING! JUST GET THIS THING OFF ME!"
A small harmless slug had fallen onto Yeralia's shoulder, while the party was traveling out of the Forest of Traggleroot. Tavian, being a Barbarian, simply flicked the slug off of her. Saviak and Prantin were watching the whole debacle take place, giggling like goblins about to botch an ambush.
“You do know I'm not an Eldritch Knight, right?”
"Thank you Tavian, I know,” she said, wiping away the slime, “I can always rely on you."
"Even when I almost sacrificed you to my gods?"
Yeralia simply forgot that ever happened.
“Well, let's let bygones be bygones, eh, Tavian?”
“That not like the Yer…”
“Uppupupup!,” Saviak interrupted, covering Tavians mouth. There was a brief pause. He continues, “We just defeated a shapeshifter! Let's go celebrate at the tavern and… Prantin can play the lute as we venture to town! Yeah, sound like a plan?”
Saviak releases Tavians mouth, “Uh.. sure! I am ready to get our reward! How about we get going? I need to mourn the loss Kenneth.”
Tavian didn't know Yeralia was actually the shapeshifter. Saviak was a smooth talker, some paladins are, and Tavian doesn't have very much intelligence, most Barbarians don't. The party walk along the path while Prantin plays his lute like a pro. He began to sing a song.
“In memory of Kenneth, the Thief that broke the rules, taught us the Cant and then was shot by the thieves guild. How bad. Sooooo saaad!”
“He didn't teach me or Yeralia Thieves Cant.” Tavian barked.
Prantin replied in singsong, “That's because you and the mage were really druuunk!”
“Oh… good point,” Tavian realized.
“Isn’t thieves cant like secret messages people can share in the open?,” said Yeralia.
“If Kenneth was here he’d say, ‘...maybe.’ I think his carefree nature is what caused the guild to turn on him.” Saviak answered. “By the way… I’ll sing with yoooou, Prantin,”
“Okay! Let's sing, 'Lucky Man's Strife?!’ an improv song from the Bards College,” Prantin said, winking at Saviak.
“Oh! I'd love to hear it! I can't wait!” Yeralia danced.
Prantin starts. “Well!
This is the tale of a lucky old fellow (Tavian is catching on)
Whose smile was grand! Big, bright and yellow (He might get angry)
He had friends, he had a history and now has a wife (She's not convincing enough)
But to him life was a mystery, just the lucky man's strife! (What should we do?)
I had a note that led me to it, a house on the hill (We need to tell him)
To ask for the charm. The luck and the will. (or at least hint at it)
He told me No! And he went on his way (he might leave or… worse)
He took for the hills, there was no time to stay! (Do you have an idea?)”
Saviak joins in the chorus,
“This is the tale of a lucky old fellow (Tavian is catching on)
Whose smile was grand! Big, bright and yellow (He might get angry)
He had friends, he had a history , now he has a wife(She's not convincing enough)
But to him life was a mystery, just the lucky man's strife (What should we do?)”
Saviak replies, in verse,
“I followed the man, he walked steadfast (He might not care though)
He look so tired, he was ready to pass (if he's angry he'll get over it)
I soon found out; the old man had a wife(we can change the subject to her now)
And was dumb struck with fear, as she came with a knife. (She was a back stabbing woman)”
Both Tavian and Yeralia join,
“This is the tale of a lucky old fellow,
Whose smile was grand! Big, bright and yellow!
He had friends, he had a history, he now has a wife
But to him life was a mystery, just the lucky man's Strife!”
Tavian sings, off key the entire time,
“The wife came up and shouted, almost caught me in the neck. (???)
I'm know I had to duck, so I hit the deck! (???)
I was pointed to the house, told to go in. (???)
The old man came too, he gave me a pin.(???)
They're all singing as the walk into the town. The tavern was near the entrance of the town so they walked in, still singing,
“This is the tale of a lucky old fellow,
Whose smile was grand! Big, bright and yellow!
He had friends, he had a history, he now has a wife
But to him life was a mystery, just the lucky man's Strife!”
The party sits down and Yeralia finishes the song with great finesse,
“The pin looked like silver, but I know my steel (You know, don't you?)
I felt ripped off, I know how you feel(I could bring her back if you want me to)"
Prantin and Savaik sing in unison reply,
“I took the grey pin, and I'm filled with glee! (We like you way more)
Now I am a man who is just as lucky! (We're glad to have you!)"
“This is the tale of a lucky old fellow,
My smile became grand! Big, bright and yellow!
I had friends, I had a history, I now have a wife
But to me life is a mystery, just the lucky man's Strife!” | 2017-09-15T09:34:26 | 2017-09-15T04:39:41 | 28 | 13 |
[WP] You are an immortal sentenced to 1000 years of imprisonment. After 200, your prison is forgotten. After 10,000 years, it is rediscovered.
Optional: Your discoverers refuse to release you. | "what the fuck is *that*?"
Two young children stood in front of me, a hint of snow on their clothes, they were illuminating me with what seemed to be orbs of light floating above their heads. Their clothes didn't remind me of anything I've seen in the towns I visited before I was imprisoned a *second time*, and they didn't remind me either of the clothes the other prisoners wore. they were a combination of winter clothing and some other I couldn't put my finger on.
Not that I had fingers, oh but there was something I did recognize, something that I was *very* familiar with. a weapon, the shape was different but my instinct was telling that it was something that could hurt me. Now, why were these young children, covered in snow with orbs of light above their heads pointing a weapon at the mass of meat that is my person? here in this dark, damp, smelly and forgotten prison under the ground?
"...it's pulsating, is it alive?. Micah go poke it"
"Yes. how about no Emma?" the boy called Micah, the one with a bad mouth put down his weapon "let's take another cell, they won't find us her-"
The girl named Emma approached me. She did it so suddenly that it even startled *me*, she extended her weapon and started poking me on the sides, well what it looked like my sides, "look, it's definitely alive!" she giggles
"k-keep it down will you!" Said Micah approaching us and grabbing Emma's shoulder " and stop poking it, we don't even know what it is!...and it smells like shit get away from it before you catch the smell!"
*H-How rude...*
"You're right..." Emma looks down, a look of regret on her face, that is replaced instantly with a mischievous smile, Emma throws Micah and he falls to my left, his clothes now stained with my, *ahem* secretions. Emma covers her mouth, trying to hold back her laughter. Micah stares daggers at her, but that only made her laugh more, I couldn't help but think what a pretty laugh she had, it was so contagious that even Micah had a slight smile on his face, so contagious that even I-
My laughs echoes, I didn't even think I was capable of that in this form, I don't even remember the last time I used, I don't even remember if I had ever laughed. But it only lasts a second, silence returns to the prison once more as the two children stare at me, the boy with fear and hostility, a look that I was very used to and the girl, with curiosity. She walks to my side, ignoring the boy's warnings, takes off her gloves and starts touching me.
"is someone in there?" the girl's orb starts to orbit around me, looking around, illuminating every spot of my body, but it's no use, there is nothing they can- "these, spikes? no needles? they have some patterns in them, do they have something to do with what's happening to you now?"
I don't answer.
"I know you're there, please don't ignore me, I-" she stops for a second and looks at the boy "we are mages, we can help you!"
Mages? magic? it's a word I haven't heard in a very long time.
"Micah, help me take out this needles" the boy doesn't move "*Micah*"
"*Emma*, this. is. a prison" the boy crosses his arms "that thing is here for a reason, you can't just tell me to-"
"No, I'm pretty sure it-*she* isn't a criminal nor a monster"
How could she tell my gender?
"And how are you so sure about this? hm?"
"Feminine intuition," she said, flashing a smile at the boy and winking at him
"Em, I never wanted to shoot you so much like today..."
"No way~ you would never do that! you love me!" she lets out that beautiful laugh once again, and grabs one of the needles keeping me in this form, bringing forth a pain inside of me that didn't fit this carefree situation "let's get started shall we?"
***
"Congratulations, Em. you just killed it"
"N-no, I'm sure that even with all the screaming and shaking she did, a-and all the blood and pus that poured out of the holes, she must still be in there..." she kneels in front of me "why are you so silent...?"
I don't want to answer, she shouldn't have done that. there is a reason why I was imprisoned. the boy was right, I'm supposed to stay here forever, they thought that I wouldn't last a 200 years *or* 1000 in this form, but they were wrong I lasted *way* more than that, way more than even the country that imprisoned me lasted, trapped in a cycle of death and rebirth thanks to my powers and this curse, but now the curse is gone, it will only take a few seconds before my powers kick in and make the same mistake again, I have no control over them. The needles... I have to get them back, I have to take them away from Emma before-
Emma puts her hands together, muttering 'please', 'please' like she was...praying.
***
*"Are you truly a goddess?" said the young boy, hands together like he was praying, he looked up at me with tears in his eyes and red cheeks "if so, please bring my mother back!"*
*I smile at the young boy, the corpse of his mother laid on the altar, all I needed was a bit of my blood, just a small drop and a miracle would occur.*
*The woman awakens once more, bewildered, she looks at the boy and tears starts to fall on the ground. they hug for the first time in what felt like ages to the boy, calling each other's name. but eventually, they look up to me and start saying mine accompanied with words of thanks*
*"Giselle! thank you, Giselle!"*
*More of the people inside the temple start saying my name, some of them kneeling to me, some of them with their hands together, eyes closed and crying.*
*the word Giselle echoes inside my head,' this is the reason for my existence', I thought. 'I will save this world'*
***
"...who...are...you?" said the young girl, she had fallen on the ground and was looking at me, her mouth agape.
But, Micah had his weapon pointed at me, a small glint could be seen from the tip of it. I looked at my hands, a long time has passed since I felt and saw this white hands, my white hair and... my red eyes.
"Vampire!!"
***
***
Hope anyone liked it, please point out any typos if you feel nice today, and some tips would be appreciated too!
[r/Onni21](https://www.reddit.com/r/Onni21/) | I cannot remember my name. I cannot remember my face. All I know are the lives of those I have selfishly stolen.
Long ago, after the last Ice Age, my existence was discovered. You see, I’m not from around here. Unfortunately, I cannot remember where I’m from or how I got here but the moment I do, I’m leaving. I cannot stay here any longer. Was I sent here on a mission? Was it yet another punishment? Some day I hope I can answer those questions. But this is not the time for that, you must be wondering what I’m doing here.
Believe me or not, most don’t, I can possess the minds of others. My body looks like it is resting peacefully but my mind is running wild in someone elses’ temple. Like a resting body, you can awaken me from my “slumber” and bring me back, but to do typically has dire consequences. I only allow you to live now because you are my final chance at escape. You see, there are limits to my power. If someone’s mind is too strong, I cannot make a full connection with them. If I release my attempts, my potential victim only feels a momentary out of body experience. If I continue to press my way in, it usually ends in death. That’s where this hell comes in. I was living my life as a nomad, traveling between continents and groups of humans. I found a larger, more established group. They seemed in such great harmony among each other and among nature. They produced more than they needed and gave away the excess to those in need. They were so genuinely happy. I wanted that for myself.
So I did what anyone in my position would do—I tried to take over the leader. To be the head of this group, to be so adored and unquestioningly followed… I could do so much! I could bring back the old technology that seemed like such a distant dream. I could move this group so far and so fast into the future that they would need something to hold themselves down. My plan was perfect! Unfortunately, it didn’t work out quite as planned. He was so strong, so different. He seemed more than human, which should have been my first hint to stop what I was doing and get as far away as possible. How brazen I was. How foolish. I had so much to learn.
I made my first attempt on the tenth night of watching the tribe. I waited until he was asleep. it’s usually much easier when they are unconscious; you can try to play the whole thing off as a strange dream… that may never end. My first attempt went so horribly wrong that I was paralyzed for two days. I’d never felt such strength before! It made me curious… made me hungry to know what this human actually was. I gave myself some time to recover. I disguised myself as a vagrant in need of food to try to get the trust of the tribe and learn their secrets. Of course, I don’t need to eat or I’d have been dead long ago, but they didn’t know that. My second warning came when the chief could not take his eyes off of me. Back then I was quite beautiful so my pride took it as a compliment. I got my strength back up and tried again, this time after he had been out hunting. Perhaps if he was tired he would be easier. I do not remember anything about that night, except that I woke up 50 feet from where I had been hiding. For one week the chief disappeared but no one seemed to notice or care, they knew he would come back when he was ready.
I remember the night of his return very clearly, but I had no idea it would change the course of my life so severely. When he returned, the chief was dirty, tired, and exhausted. He didn’t, however, bring back any food with him so he couldn’t have been hunting. I dared not try to possess him again that night but instead tried to use my charm and knowledge of your race to get information out of him. There was a large party in honor of his return. We smoked some substance and danced to our hearts’ content. Then I attempted to seduce him. He said we had to first smoke some ritual herbs before we could become one body. I woke up in this room in the same clothes I’d been wearing. I didn’t know how much time had passed but my body felt sore. From that small opening in the door I heard the chief’s voice asking whether I had slept well.
“Where am I?” I asked, looking around. I was sitting in this small, circular room made of stones. There were small windows all along it, making me believe there were no adjacent rooms except for whatever was through that door. I’m sure you can see now that it’s quite tarnished and overgrown, but it was actually quite beautiful in its simplicity. There used to be a bed made of hay but it has been gone for thousands of years.
“Where you belong,” he answered. “I don’t know what you are but you will not infect me or my people. You will stay here for 1,000 years to repent for trying to steal my body and soul. My descendants will release you only if they truly believe you have changed. If not, we shall try another 1,000.”
“1,000 years?? Surely you do not expect me to survive that long in here!” I desperately clung to the hope that he knew little about me.
“Yes! I have seen the real you. I have abilities neither you nor my people would understand. Do you not wonder why your attempts at sabotage failed so fantastically? I’ve known you were different since you first started spying on us… I could sense you,” he said with some contempt in his voice.
“So why let me stay? Why not banish me or try to kill me?”
“Is it not obvious? I wish to study you! How long have you been alive? Where are you from? What were your plans with my body and my people? I must have answers!!”
“I will answer them if you let me go. You can’t imprison me, I’ll go mad,” I plead.
“So be it. Someone will visit you every week to ensure you are still being punished. If you decide to talk, we’ll see if we can lighten your sentence.”
And with that, I never saw the chief again. True to his word, someone would visit me every week… then every month. I tried to take over them, to free at least my mind from this place, but I couldn’t even attempt it. It was as if my powers were gone. As if he had put some curse on me or this building or this room, I don’t know, but I was more trapped than I’d ever been in my life. I had little to do with myself, since there wasn’t any entertainment like you know today. Ah yes, I do know of your technology. It is still not nearly as advanced as I would have done back then, but you’re welcome for the bursts. Yes, that’s right! I am the reason you have any of your “modern conveniences,” as you foolish humans call them.
After maybe 200 years I stopped getting visitors. The ones leading up to then had no idea who I was or why they were seeing me. It was some tradition that the “short straw” had to deal with. I wasn’t needed. Yet still I could not possess my unwilling guests. I decided to try something new, something I’d never done before. I meditated and tried to see the whole world… all of the plants and creatures and everything on it. I don’t know how far I was able to see at the time, but it was enough. The tribes were growing rather quickly and trying to space out so they would not encroach on each others’ territories, but despite that I could fell them. The next tribe. Potential victims that I could not see but could feel. I succeeded on my first try. I became a child in one of the tribes. As you know, children are utterly useless so I watched everyone and chose the strongest hunter I could find. While he slept, I jumped from the child’s body to his. In the dead of night, I abandoned those people and left to travel the world.
Ever since then I’ve been traveling. I’ve been all over the world, I’ve had every job, I’ve been rich and poor, powerful and needy. I wanted to try every aspect of human life to try to understand them. I’ve learned to love, to hate, to sacrifice, to accept help, to want, to need, to steal, to envy. I have lived ten thousand lives. You’re probably wondering whether you’ve heard of me in your books, no? Like I said, the strong-minded are difficult to possess. I will not say who, but it is very easy to control the rich but easy-minded. Ever seen someone wealthy suddenly have a million dollar idea? Let’s just say they had a little help.
So that brings us to today. How did you find me? How did you get in? Through all my lifetimes I sought out this tower, this prison, this hell and I was unable to locate it. Did you know I would be here? Well say something! | 2017-11-02T12:50:14 | 2017-11-02T12:29:52 | 130 | 49 |
[WP] You are an immortal sentenced to 1000 years of imprisonment. After 200, your prison is forgotten. After 10,000 years, it is rediscovered.
Optional: Your discoverers refuse to release you. | *sound*
*noise*
*footsteps*
I stir. Something coming. Someone. I have slept. They approach. I listen.
They are lost.
I wait. They will come. I sleep.
*scream*
*footsteps*
I wake.
*scream*
So have my guards. Metal sawing against bone. I will sleep. I will wake, if they live.
*footsteps*
They are almost here. I can feel them. I can feel the disturbance in the air. I can smell the fear. This is my chance.
How long has passed? I stand and feel the stiffness in my joints.
Centuries?
*shrug*
Millennia.
Here they come.
“Holy fuck, who is that?”
They are tall and short, him and her. The word escapes me.
Man. Woman.
Man protects the Woman. He holds out a sharp tool in some semblance of defiance. She cowers behind him.
No.
It is a ruse. Woman holds something just out of sight. Before my chains, they would have died screaming for such an ill-advised challenge.
“I am Mathias. They called me Dead of the Orion Arm. Blight of Andromeda. Sunset of the Markesians. Hand of Fear. God of Chaos.”
No more, no less.
Man pauses. Woman continues to shake.
“Oh, fuck this! I’ll take my chances with those fucking things. I’m not staying here with Lister of Bullshit or whatever-the-fuck his name is!”
Man turns to leave. My left hand twitches in its shackle.
“No. We have to get out of here. He’s the first thing here that hasn’t tried to kill us on sight. Now, from what I can see, he’s in the same situation as us. If he gets out, we get out. After that, I don’t give a shit who he decides to go skull-fuck.”
Man hesitates. So indecisive. Woman holds him tightly, until he waivers. They will help.
Good.
“Alright, what’s your deal? Why are you the only one here? What’s with the fucking nightmares we’ve been running from? What the fuck is this place?”
“I am Mathias. I am imprisoned here for backing the wrong side in a war. My allies fell, but I still completed my duty. I was sentenced to spend one-thousand years imprisoned for my part in the Fall of Xijon. “
Man and Woman seem confused. I continue on undisturbed.
“These... nightmares are my guards. I see the years have not been kind. They have gone mad, I believe their creators to be long extinct. They have gone on unsupervised for eons. So has this place. It is my prison, and as I had once come to believe, my tomb. Both have been abandoned by their engineers.”
They share a look. Telepathy? No. I feel no disturbance at that level. Simple, non-verbal communication.
“You said a thousand years, right?”
“Yes.”
“Everything here dates back at least ten-times that. We ran test after test to be sure. This place is older than anything we’ve seen so far. How are you still here?”
I search for the words.
“The creatures that bound me here feared me above all else. Tell me, child. If given the chance, would you risk your greatest fear escaping its bonds, or would you lock it away and leave it to rot? Would you not build it the perfect prison? A prison that would outlast you? Only a fool would not.”
“That’s not what I-“
Another pause. Metal grinds against stone. The guards have heard our exchange. Their time is running out.
“Oh fuck, they’re coming. Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck *oh fuck*. What do we do?”
They begin to quake where they stand.
“I can stop them.”
They seem startled by my voice. Their surprise giving way to hope. Hope giving way to fear. They fully understand their predicament.
“How.”
A command disguised as a question.
“To my kind, these guards are no more than caretakers. Tools. They can kill and maim, just as any tool can, but they present no danger to me. Release me. I will lay waste to any who cross this threshold.”
The decision is made swiftly. They will take a dangerous chance over an inevitable death.
This is their first, and last, mistake.
As the man approaches, I cannot hold back my memories.
I remember the screams of the younglings as they drowned in a river of their parents blood.
I remember their Leader begging for answers.
Where did I come from?
Why am I doing this?
I remember how he despaired at my answer.
“Because I can.”
I remember the sacrifice. How they turned to mysticism when their weapons failed them.
I remember the sacrifice. A young female, snatched from the refugee camp. No time to waste. I remember the blood running across my chains, bonding them against my strength.
I remember recognizing their incantation.
And how to break it.
The Man reaches my throne. He grabs at my shackles. He is dead before the sound reaches her ears. His body faces me, but his eyes watch her. I can only imagine what they convey.
Fear?
Betrayal?
Accusation?
My bonds fall away just as his body collapses. They are a decaying lock, falling to pieces around the key.
She turns to run. His body kills her on impact.
My “guards” descend upon them like hungry scavengers. I leave them to feast on their lifeless meat. My children did well driving the cattle to their slaughter, this meal is their reward.
I have business elsewhere.
I am Mathias. The Void. The All-Consuming Darkness. The Bloody Entropy. The Faceless Extinction.
I am Death.
I am Mathias the Undying.
I have given the Markesians their head-start.
Let us see just how far they ran.
(I’m really trying to work on my writing and be more active in this sub. Please leave any criticism or compliments you may have in the comments. Any advice is appreciated) | -Skkkkkrrrrrrrrrrrkk-
The screeching of my steel shiv, rusted over the centuries is the sound to start my day, as it has been for the past 36,425 days. I run my hand across a row of lines; from one corner to the next is what would have been my equivelant of 2 calendar months in 2016, before everything changed. Before the bite. Before Corpius. Before I gained nothing but a listless life of immortality and lost everything.
My son.. What did he accomplish with my unfateful bargain? Was his life spared? Every day I wonder..
My wife.. What did she think of my atrocity? What did she tell everyone?? Did everyone die thinking I just walked out of their lives??
As I start pondering yet again about the outcome of my long gone familly; my thoughts are cutoff as a figure steps out of the shadows next to my only solace; myself.
"Does it matter you fool? Now hurry up and feast before this madness that has befallen us begins to stir." He shakes his head and leans back into the shadows. And like that; I am alone again.
Over the millenia; the bars that enclosed me have rusted and weakened, which became quite piliable for a vampire of my stature. Compared to my small cell, the vastness of this prision feels like a castle. I take care to not trip over the wires that power the few things I require for sustinance.
First off I head into the lavatory to wash. When the plumbing collapsed I could not stand my own stench. A contraption is next to the only remaining sink; a tub of water with several homemade filters that drip down into another identical tub. With only a small amount of water; I needed a way to maintain some order of cleanliness.
I take off my tattered rags and toss them to the side before drenching a browned rag, wiping the sweat and grime off. As I go over one of the several scars born from multiple attempts to end my seemingly eternal damnation; I drop to my knees in pain. The hunger. The god damn hunger.
After finishing my wash, I throw those damned rags back on and make my descent down into the only other powered convienence I have, the kitchen. Being a vampire I only need one thing; blood. Without it, I begin to lose my grip on reality, which is where my 2 split personalities were born from.
Bran is my firstborn decent into madness. He is like me in most ways; but he is very condescending of my choices in life and is my guardian from myself and our.. other companion, Don. We don't like to talk about him much because when I go too long without blood, he likes to take over.. I may just be crazy enough to enjoy talking to a wall and pretending like it's someone reading my life story on a phone, tablet or computer; but Don is simply vile.
Once I arrive in my kitchen I open the small fridge, covered in mold and decay from stains long overgrown. The lights and cooling barely work anymore but it keeps my blood supply just right.. How did I get this, you ask??? Well about 50 years into my sentence, I snapped. 50 years of no blood is not a good idea to make a vampire go through. But little did Don realize that by killing EVERY. SINGLE. PRISONER. AND. GUARD in this hellhole, that we would have no way of escaping or getting out.
I always prided myself on never having tasted the sin of human blood prior to this situation. During the brief year of my vampirism outside these walls, I was an avid consumer of cow's blood. But now I have taken my blood consumption and pinpointed it down to a science!
I reach into the fridge and pull one of my 2 remaining jars of sealed blood, this one being nearly empty. I pour the remainder into a little cup that is quite reminiscant of a shot glass; "If only Jameson was in stock, huh?" I turn around to see Bran wiping the blood off of his chin before licking it off of his finger.
"What do you want Bran?" I inquire; setting down the blood-caked glass.
"What do I want, Brandon? What I want is to have taken our son to his first day of school. To kiss our wife good night one last time before we stepped foot in here. What I want is for you to never, EVER HAVE to.."
We both stop dead in our tracks as a loud thud reverbs from the sealed entrance. Before I can question myself the building gives a quiet shake before a explosion blasts through the upper level, shaking everything in sight. The last jar of blood, my crimson velvet shatters against the floor; sending its contents to impurity. Before I can even register the impulse to lick the blood off of the floor I hear a voice... no... voices!!!
I fly up the stairs and before I can even take a breath we make eye contact.
To my left is a man.. of some sort. He appears human in physique but his features are unique.. Namely the blue skin to be precise. To my right is the most beautiful woman I have ever seen, well maybe second to my wife.. but after 10000 years of masturbation she looks like the second coming of whatever God you want to believe in.
Words can't befall any of us; the two.. explorers? seem to be absolutely stunned that I am down here and the feeling is quite mutual.
"It took you Saints long enough to send someone down here." I start to feel anger, but the thought of being free begins to rush through me. Elated beyond relief I push both of them aside and rush through the entrance before being bombaded by sunlight. I howl as the pain sears through my entire body, smoke flaring off of my arms and body. I steady myself for a split moment and bask in th forbidden fruit of fresh air before the pain is too much. I run back down to my old domain and the two young adults are still in the same spot, seemingly frozen with.. something??
The male takes a look at me and his eyes open wide with glee. "A vampire!?!?! I had no idea there were any left on this planet. I always wanted to meet one." The female looks at him and then back at me, pointing her drawn pistol of some sort that she must have primed as if I was some kind of blood sucking sava.. Oh yeah. I'm a vampire.
"Don't be a little kid Xandrice, he could be an enemy." She aims her sights straight at me and fires a shot through my abdomen, dropping me to the floor. "Nothing that has been down here for this long is something that we want to take risks with."
"Mira!!!!!! What the fukdar was that for!? He could have needed our help! You co---" His speech stops as I get up from my little scrape, her jaw seems to be close to her perky breasts, which then I recieve a firm scowl from her. "Who are you and how did you survive this long?"
"My name is.. Bran?.. Don?.. Oh, yeah! Brandon." I chuckle slightly. "You tend to forget the small things when you have been down here for-"
"36244 days, right?" Xandrice chirps in
"36245 actually. I counted." I remark
"Damn the stars; my calculations were almost precise!!" He frowns and starts speaking to Mira in a odd language. She says a few words; one of them being that odd 'fukdar' word. He makes what seems to be a crude remark to her before extending his hand.
"Lets try again. My name is Xandrice. This is Mira Waltson." With that last word, the name soars through my heart, soul and thoughts. Pictures of my family run vivid through my mind and for a moment, I can feel my son giving me a hug for the last time before he was pulled away from me.
"Are you related to a Cam Waltson by chance, Mira?" I ponder, wondering how far she might be able to trace her-and maybe our family tree back.
| 2017-11-02T20:14:51 | 2017-11-02T19:14:30 | 23 | 17 |
[WP] British time travellers go back in time to stop 9/11 but end up there on the 9th November not 11th September. | You must understand, we created this device. We programmed it with extreme precision. We would - and did - travel through time to reach 9/11/2001. The objective? To prevent a terrorist attack that would plunge the world into endless war.
We arrived on the ninth of November. Ground Zero was packed with relentless industry, struggling to remove the relics of the disaster from two months previously. We had obviously made a mistake. And so we set to work.
It took us seventeen years, but we made the device. It would take us back to stop this disaster. At once we put it to use.
We arrived on the ninth of November. Ground Zero was packed with relentless industry, struggling to remove the relics of the disaster from two months previously. We had obviously made a mistake. And so we set to work.
It took us seventeen years, but we made the device. It would take us back to stop this disaster. At once we put it to use.
We arrived on the ninth of November. Ground Zero was packed with relentless industry, struggling to remove the relics of the disaster from two months previously. We had obviously made a mistake.
And so we set to work. | He was, somehow, even more impressive in real life than he was on TV. He tilted his head forward and looked into my eyes over the top of his glasses and said those three words that changed my life and perhaps the fate of humanity.
"And you're sure?"
His voice was gentle, fatherly, educated. I looked into those kind eyes and knew I would never let this man down. I would do anything for him, it was unthinkable that I would question his wisdom, no matter how dangerous the task was.
I stood as straight as I could and looked as manly and noble as I could, certain I was a going to my death and said "I'm sure Sir."
"Very well. You're really doing something extremely brave you know. What fantastic and interesting people you both are."
With that, he smiled, that knowing, gentle smile and gently pressed the button next to his desk. The whirling, harsh sound of a siren reverbated in my head as my vision blurred. Me and my colleague were sent back in time. Back to stop 9/11, back to stop the attack on the Twin Towers, back to stop Iraq, Afghanistan and all the instability in the Middle East that has occurred since then.
As our vision returned, the building we were in had disappeared and we were stood outside a small, terraced house in London.
Me and my colleague never looked at each other, we were professionals, searching for signs that we were indeed back in 2001. The first clue came not from the media or newspapers. I nudged my colleague,
"Tom, Tom! Look at those lads!" Tom looked at them and amazement washed over his face.
"It's happening! It's happening!" One of the boys shrieked as he looked at the device in his hand. "It's evolving! It's a Gengar now!"
We couldn't believe it. Pokémon Red and Blue, the games of our childhood. Long before the mission, the time travel and the boss. We struggled to suppress our laughter as we headed to Gatwick Airport, ready to buy our tickets to New York. We were really here, in the past.
The young lads looked up from their Gameboys, noticing us for the first time. Without thinking I said to them "Kadabra and Golem evolve the same way too mate. Get on it."
The young lad was thrilled to see a grownup acknowledging his interest in Pokémon.
"I know that mate, we got that squared back on Bonfire night last week."
I froze. Bonfire night? Last week? It was supposed to be September, not November. I rejected my conclusion before I'd even put the pieces together. Tom however had grasped the truth quicker than me.
"He's fucked up mate! The old man has sent us back to November 2001, not September!"
"Pack it in mucker, of course he hasn't fucked it, he knows what he's doing!"
"He has mate! He's got the fucking date wrong, using the Yanks calendar!" Tom replied.
I was outraged. He couldn't possibly be saying this.
I struck him. Hard. A right cross Ricky Hatton would have been proud of. As Tom hit the floor and came to, rubbing his jaw. I looked down at him with disgust.
"He can't be wrong Tom. He can't be. Have you forgotten the first rule of being British? Thou shalt not question Stephen Fry!" | 2018-04-20T14:31:08 | 2018-04-20T14:09:00 | 107 | 41 |
[WP] You died today. Turns out you are the 100 Billionth person to do so. To commemorate the occasion, you are given the chance to undo a single decision. Any decision. | I died at the ripe old age of 14.
My last three years of life were a living hell, all because of one innocent mistake... and now I had an angel, in all it's crazy eye-winged glory, asking me which decision I would change in my life. The question was so ridiculous I didn't even balk at his terrifying figure. Besides, I had seen worse things in my life.
So I knew exactly which decision I would change.
I can still remember it vividly: the closing of the door as I settled into the back of my mom's idling silver car, and the rustling noise my pink winter sweater made as I fiddled with the seat belt.
I could remember the exact sickening smell I noticed, looking up when I realized my mom didn't smoke. The raised eyebrows of the scraggly faced man in the rear view mirror.
My nervous, shy voice as I said, "Sorry mister, wrong car," and the shaking in my hands as I reached for the seatbelt button.
The shifting of gears as he put the car in drive... | I was bathed in light. It washed over me like a wave and images started to surface in my mind.
I was six surrounded by all kids in my class as they sang the birthday song for me. Over the light of the candles I watched him mouth the words with the others, made my wish and blew.
I was nine, sitting next to him during the break to help him with a math problem.
I was fourteen and lost in the museum during the school trip. Scared, so very scared. A hand held mine and guided me back to safety. His lips moved but I don't remembered the words. Just how warm his hands were in mine.
Eighteen now and graduating, before I say goodbye I ask for one dance. He has his date and I have mine. Odd how I can't even remember their faces, only his. The Savage Garden is all I hear and my feet don't even touch the ground.
Twenty four now and an accountant trying to make my way in this harsh world. That day the elevator door opened and there he was. A moment passed between us and all I could hear was the beating of my own heart, feelings I thought were forgotten all came rushing back... Then he smiled and I just knew.
Twenty eight and we are told that a child is out of the question for me. I felt his arms around me holding me close. There were words but I don't remember them. Just how warm he was and how I really didn't want to let go, I was so cold, so very very cold.
Thirty two and running in the park together. He runs ahead and I see him helping a kid that almost fell off his bike. We spend the morning teaching the little one how to do it until he was finally ready for us to let go. I look at his face and this feeling of coldness washes over me again. He loved children so. He smiled at me and pulled me behind him as he jogged dispelling my demons and filling me again with warmth.
Forty five and my hair is turning grey, we celebrate Christmas with the family but then after all the noise and drama he stops the cab a few blocks away and we walk home hand in hand. He's rambling again but I just let the words wash over me. It starts to snow gently and I feel young again by his side.
Sixty and retired now. We finally have the time for our selves. I tell him we're too old but he waves away my protests. My silly old boy tricked me into visiting disneyland and getting on the rides with him, All because I told him I've never been. Who takes an old woman like me to disneyland.
The last memory comes. Me standing over an open grave as they lowered him down. All I could see was the roses over his... his...
I opened my eyes and feel the wetness over my cheeks. Eighty now and all alone, the years after rushed by and I can't even remember them. All alone in this nursing home for the forgotten. It's so cold here. So very very cold.
I made my request. If one thing in my life could be changed then it was that. I could never stand the cold. Everyone deserves to be warm, especially in the end. | 2018-12-22T16:05:54 | 2018-12-22T14:35:13 | 355 | 113 |
[WP] The communications have cut on the ISS, and while you're trying to solve it you jokingly tell your coworker to check www.hasthelargehaedroncolliderdestroyedtheworldyet.com. He does it, and it doesn't say "Nope." this time. | ISS Log #853505
​
This is it. The final log. After today, I'll be signing off for good, hopefully in search of another inhabitable planet, but chances are slim to none. Almost certainly none.
We've stashed away all of our food and provisions and readied the emergency pods as all control & communication systems connected to the ISS are likely fried. The planet was doomed from the start but we never thought it would happen this soon.
Clarkson has notified me that the website is still not down. Strange, but we'll just have to accept it for how it is. Its word is sacred and we can't take something so seriously with a grain of salt. Salt like the taste in my mouth that won't go away. Salt burning the eyes, tears roll down as I say my final goodbye to all that I've known. Life behind me and only death visibly ahead in the black void.
For some reason, I can't stop thinking about the game. It's over now, but I just want to know who won. Who would've won. It doesn't matter. The light's gone anyway. The balls and bats and players disintegrated into nothing. Along with all of history, art, science, all of the effort, all of the lives changed. Nothing.
I just wish I had a chance to say goodbye to my wife.
​
Commander Richards, signing off.
​
=
​
"Hey. Are you ready?"
"Let's do this."
"Richards. I've just been wondering one thing."
"Yeah?"
"What date would it have been? You know, on Earth."
"I hadn't thought about it." ... "April 1st."
"Aw, fuck-" | "God's sake." Hatfield said, looking over the fried circuitry. "We're going to need at least two shipments of replacement parts before it's fully operational again."
"Whatdya think fried it, captain?" Asked Aldon.
"No clue. Could've been an abnormally strong sunspot. Or some kind of emp. Maybe it's space pirates." He said, looking up and cracking a smile.
"Alright, very funny." Aldon said throwing his hands in the air.
"Listen kid, don't worry. This stuff happens from time to time. Hard to plan for accidents, and even more so when you're a few hundred vertical miles from the closest hardware store." Said Hatfield, backing away from the frayed wires and rubbing his brow.
"Hey captain," a call came from the mess hall, "we've got a connection again."
"That's weird." Said Aldon, locking eyes with the captain. The captains eyes narrowed and his jaw clenched.
"What are you talking about, we would have been hailed if we were connected. Only takes them about a second or two." Hatfield said, striding into the mess hall. "Have we heard anything from base?"
Two shipmates sat in shock, eyes wide and cheeks pale. When the captain came in, they looked up at him then slowly returned their unseeing eyes to the computer screen. The captain approached from behind them and stared at the headlines.
*Haedron collider reports malfunction*
*Haedron collider unable to power down*
*Levels critical as haedron collider becomes
unstable*
*Scientists: total haedron collider meltdown iminant*
The captain breathes raggedly out through his nose. In a hoarse whisper he turned back to Aldon. "When were the damage reports first logged?"
Aldon furiously flipped through he clipboard. "11:47 eastern time sir." He said, wide eyes and shaking.
Hatfield stood up with glazed eyes and pointed to the time on the last article. 11:45 ET. "That's it." He whispered. "That's how it all ends."
The crew burst into chaos. Even the most rigorously trained and psychologically sound men and women could not withstand such bitter disappointment. Their reality set in. They were stranded in a tin can, listing slowly around a dead planet. Eventually, they were reigned in. The expected conversations were had.
"Food would only last about two more weeks."
"Do we have enough cyanide?"
"We could try to force a landing. But what would be left even if we made it?"
"I don't want to die!"
The frantic machinations soon surrendered into submissive acceptance. Suicide was the only viable choice to be made. Cups were filled and distributed, last words were shared and hearts were laid bare before one another.
The captain made sure it went smoothly. That there was no suffering. One by one he watched them slip away. The crew he had tended for close to a year. His family. Little Aldon went quietly and easily, with tears on his cheeks. The two who had seen the news in the mess hall decided to pass in each other's embrace. One by one they all drifted into that eternal slumber.
Finally, content at the outcome, Hatfield filled his glass and went to the small window that faced Earth. He thought of all them men, women and children who were there when everything ended. He thought of the thousands of years of history encased in that little blue marble. All the blood, the anger the hate, all for a slice of a rock on a sunbeam. He thought of all the lovers, the innocent, the damned. 11:45. People would have been having lunch.
Hatfield sighed and looked past the dead planet. No light blinked up towards the space station. The stars stood out in beautiful opposition to the shadowed face of the Earth. He lifted his glass in a silent toast. He thought about how man had dared to claim the stars. He thought of how far man had come in their ambitions. He thought of home. And he rejoined his crew. | 2019-02-07T11:08:20 | 2019-02-07T10:59:00 | 77 | 23 |
[WP] A zombie outbreak occurs. It was contained and eradicated in short order with minimal deaths. It's been several months, now the government is trying to coax out the various nerds who bolted to their zombie apocalypse hideouts and haven't come back. | Sam walked up to the vault door. Day 15 and 39th bunker on his task list. He looked at the name on the property listing. James Timothy Hawthorn. "Good," he thought, "not 'John Smith'". That one had been difficult.
The first 10 preppers he'd spent hours at a time trying to coax them out, convince them he wasn't a mad killer unshackled by the apocalypse, or some mutant talking strain of zombie. The next 3 he'd just gone using brute force. Enough heat and pressure and any door would open. After looking inside the bunkers and getting hit with a suit for destruction of property, however, he'd changed tactics again.
Sam sat down with his tablet and started logging on to various social media sites. A few minutes later, he stood up, and grabbed a bullhorn, confident that what he said would get James out of his hidey hole in no time.
"Chris Pine is a better Kirk than Shatner!"
A minute later Sam heard various locks being quickly undone with muffled cursing as an accompaniment. Worked every time. | >Ridicule. I spent five years being utterly, totally humiliated by friends, family and coworkers who called me *paranoid* or 'insane'. They said it was absurd to spend tens of thousands of dollars on a bunker equipped to keep me alive in a zombie apocalypse. Rejecting the civil standard to spend all of my money furthering my lineage with spawn was frowned upon.
>Well, I'd *love* to see them now. To see their laughing faces rotted and sloughing off skulls, with eyeballs melting out of their sockets. When disaster struck, I bet they all thought of me. I bet they went running through their front doors, desperately clamoring down the desolated streets to make it here. I never heard them knock, though, not in the first weeks, so they must've been caught along the way. They must've cried out in terror, shrieking with pain, remembering their mockery of me.
>It's been over a month, since then, however. I do miss them occasionally, when the pangs of loneliness strike from time to time, but the hundreds of books, video games and movies I stockpiled keep me occupied enough. I also make sure to review all my handbooks and survival guides on living in a zombie apocalypse every morning to keep my mind fresh. It's a ritual, one that will continue to keep me alive, though these works are not perfect. They are purely speculative, written based on imagined occurrences and assumptions.
>Well, friends, I have decided to compile this book, of sorts- my own survival guide, and in some senses, a diary. A log of events that occur in these post-modern days. In it, I will cover what I know about the apocalypse, and what I know of the effects this unknown virus has on humans. Through time, perhaps I will begin to venture outward and learn more, but that will have to wait. Why, you ask?
>Because, as you most likely know, they're *intelligent*. I mean, almost indistinguishable from a normal human. Sometimes, they come banging on my exterior barricades and the exochamber, proclaiming that the virus has been contained. They tell me it's safe, and demand that I open the door. Some have even impersonated people I knew from a previous life, feigning the wavering voice of my mother or sister. Can they impersonate that well? Or is this a virus that, for lack of a better description, controls minds, reshaping a person?
>Regardless of the details, they think me a fool, like all the others who stayed out and perished. But I, like you, am the opposite. I will not yield.
>I will survive."
Lisa put the booklet down, a worn old thing fraying at the edges with smudges of black ink on the fore-edges. After a deep sigh, she turned her head down and wiped at wetness on her cheeks. This was her son, after all, her own boy, and his obsession was apparent from the first sentence. She sensed the pain and gripping fear that must have held him so tightly that he felt crushed by it. She wondered, *Can I make it through the rest of this?*
He was dead, now, and she cried not for his death, but his life.
His poor, wretched life.
-------
*Part two is below!*
*/r/resonatingfury* | 2019-02-21T10:21:51 | 2019-02-21T10:20:30 | 1,923 | 433 |
[WP] A fiery ball crash lands in your backyard. You go over and inspect it, only to find a fully functioning Roomba with a knife taped to the front of it. | **Item #:** SCP-B0T
**Object class:** Keter.
**Special Containment Procedures:** SCP-B0T is to be kept in a standard steel and reinforced concrete autonomous weapons chamber. The structure of the chamber must be monitored and routinely repaired. ~~Repairs must be completed by autonomous robots.~~ ~~Repairs must be completed via remote controlled robots.~~ ~~Repairs must be completed after SCP-B0T has been temporarily disabled via EMP blast.~~ There must be two containment chambers dedicated to the containment of SCP-B0T. SCP-B0T is to be rotated between these chambers on a weekly basis, using D-class personnel close to their monthly termination to lure SCP-B0T into its next chamber. Repairs are to be completed after SCP-B0T has been moved.
Currently, SCP-B0T is able to compromise 68% of the chamber's structure within a week, with an increase of .005% per week. Updated containment procedures are being investigated.
**Description:** SCP-B0T is an autonomous, extraterrestrial weapon designed to appear as a common autonomous household vacuum cleaner, with the exception of a bowie knife taped to its top. Upon inspection, though, its internal structure does not resemble the internals of its non-anomalous counterpart. With only 10% of components being identified to date. Care must be taken when disassembling and reassembling SCP-B0T, due to its slow regeneration properties.
SCP-B0T is designed to have an extreme penchant for killing any and all sapient life. SCP-B0T accomplishes this task through learning and self modification of both its structure and methodologies. When first contained, SCP-B0T's sole weaponry was the aforementioned bowie knife. Since then, it has acquired:
* EMP hardening
* Physical hardening
* A form of compulsion that is soley effective on other robots.
* A 1GW ultraviolet laser
* Amnesetic and poisonous gasses
* Flight capabilities
* Speed increases
* Sonic weaponry
* Properties similar to [SCP-2925](http://www.scp-wiki.net/scp-2925)
* [REDACTED].
SCP-B0T was discovered in the town of [REDACTED], Kansas, USA. Initially believed to be a large meteorite, several witnesses approached SCP-B0T out of curiosity. The Foundation was alerted through normal monitoring channels due to a sudden spike in fatalities in the 100km touchdown radius. Any surviving witnesses and medical personnel were given amnesetics and released, post interview. The Foundation released an official cover story of a chemical spill, and released the cadavers to the families, post cremation.
Cross testing with [SCP-682](http://www.scp-wiki.net/scp-682) is pending O5 approval. | Tracey peered into the small divot in her backyard. The smoke was still clearing, making it difficult to see what had crashed into her freshly mowed grass.
“Back up pup,” she said she tugged on the collar of her golden retriever.
She knew the dog was just as interested but didn’t want the vet visit from him burning his nose on whatever it was. It gave her a thought, however, and she patted his head before walked across the yard. The grass was mowed but the corner still had all of the stuff she had raked piled into it.
Pulling out the longest stick she could find, she made her way back to the smoky pit.
“I said back up,” She pulled on the dog's collar once more with her free hand.
She squinted down once more, spotting nothing but a black blob, even though the smoke was beginning to be more wisps, the fire had died out. She shook the stick once at the air and plunged it straight at the blob.
Tracey wasn’t sure what she had been expecting, but the stick recoiled in her hand as it hit the solid surface of the object.
“Oh come on!” she hollered at the ground, rubbing the wrist holding the stick. “This is ridiculous, Charls.”
She looked down at her dog who had cocked his head to the side at her exclamation. “I guess we’ll have to wait.”
***
Tracey sat at her kitchen table. She half stared out the window to the back yard, and half stared at her cell phone to keep herself entertained. She had sent a few texts but no one had any thoughts about what may have landed in her yard.
Of course, they all wanted updates and pictures though.
Halfway through a second cup of coffee, Charlie began to bark and whine at the wall connecting to the yard. His ears were up, head tilting back and forth.
“What's up, Charlie?” Tracey asked as she set pushed aside her mug and her phone.
Maybe the dog was hearing something, she thought. If the dog was hearing something, maybe the thing in her yard was moving or talking somehow. Nothing was visible from her window, which meant she would have to take them back out into the backyard.
A brief wave of anxiety ran through her as she turned the doorknob. An irrational fear as she wondered if the thing was somehow alive, and not very nice.
***
“No, I don’t know how it got there, Sarah. I obviously didn’t order a crash landing Roomba with a freaking knife taped to it. it's not like Amazon has that as a delivery option,” Tracey rolled her eyes despite the fact that it wouldn’t translate over the cell phone.
“It’s moving. I have it on the table,” she said.
Her friend was not actually being all that helpful but she wasn’t at all sure what to do. She had called Sarah to see if she wanted to come over but had been stuck answering questions instead.
“I can’t put it on the floor, Sarah. It has a knife on it, and I don’t really want it to stab my dog. Just…Just come over?” Tracey asked.
This whole situation was insane. She could really use someone to feel a little bit insane with her.
“No, it's not that big of a knife. You’ll see.”
***
“I told you,” Tracey stood back as Sarah tried to inspect the little machine.
“But why? Why does it have a knife? And how is it still working?” Sarah circled the table poking at the Roomba once a minute or so.
“Those are great questions.”
Sarah picked up the Roomba, causing it to make a brief whirring sound. It seemed to shut down once it realized it was no longer on solid ground. “You know…I’ve always wanted one.”
Sarah turned it over in her hands, inspecting the sides and the bottom of it. Her hands grazed over the material, stopping for a moment before she turned to Tracey.
“I think this is tape. Maybe colored Duct Tape?” Sarah said as she handed the whole thing, carefully, over to its new owner.
Tracey held it and felt the spot her friend had indicated. It did feel like tape. She brought it back over to the table and set it down, bottom up. With some peeling and scratching, Tracey managed to pull up the square of odd material. Stuck in the middle, between the tape and the bottom of the Roomba was a square piece of white paper.
Without so much as looking up at Sarah, Tracey peeled the paper off and unfolded it.
“You have been challenged. Welcome to the fight,” Tracey read the words out-loud.
“What?!” Sarah asked dramatically and made a grab for the note.
Tracey moved it out of her reach automatically. Her eyes moved between the note and the armed cleaning robot. Was the Robot supposed to be her weapon or just an invitation?
/r/beezus_writes | 2019-03-03T08:11:34 | 2019-03-03T06:31:50 | 15 | 11 |
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them. | "I good girl." Said the scruffy black cat.
The orc jailer squinted down at the talking feline. He was a great green brute of an orc, and was the very last line of defense in the intricate cave system of the Western Mountain Orc Prison.
The orc jailer usually delighted in having wild rats pass by his post at night, because then he could smash the rats with his club and throw their bloody bodies into the prisoner's cells and listen to the occupants scream. It was his only entertainment during the night shift.
But he had never seen a cat while on duty in the caves. And he'd never even heard of a talking one before. He wondered if his brothers further up the line had let it pass to him on purpose.
The cat stepped closer into the torch light and sniffed at the ground, then licked her lips. She looked like she'd been in a lot of fights in her life; her hair was missing in spots, her ears were chewed up and scarred, and she smelled like she had rolled over something dead. She was old and ugly and the orc's brothers had probably just ignored her when she'd gone by.
The jailer began to slowly reach for his club, thinking of which cells he could throw her squished body into. The older prisoners were getting used to his dead rat game, but might squeal a little differently if a bigger, smellier cat was thrown at them. But those new prisoners... The ones still so full of hope and good faith... he could hardly wait to hear what kind of screams they might make.
The cat watched with shining yellow eyes as the orc moved in slow motion, quietly picking up his enormous club. She could smell his intent to kill, but she stood still and poised.
When the orc moved to swing his club at her, she heard the soft jingle of metal keys somewhere on his left leg.
'Keys good', thought the cat.
Before the club could reach her, the old cat had morphed growing dagger sized teeth and a bear-sized head. She zipped past the orc's club and sunk her teeth into his exposed neck. The jailer couldn't even let out a scream as his windpipe was squished, like a rat against his club. The cat's body continued to morph and grow, matching the orc's weight pound for pound. She threw him to the ground and ripped off his head.
His blood was hot and his meat was tainted and tough, but to the monster ripping through those muscles and bones, he tasted like sweet, sweet victory. Savagely, she tore into him, swallowing his still convulsing heart, chewing up his bones, and even licking up the blood that had sprayed across the cave walls and floor. In no time at all, she had devoured everything the orc had ever been. Except, for his untouched left leg.
It had been ages since she had killed this much. Ever since she had been adopted and loved by her party in her small Sneaking form, she had held back her natural instinct to stalk, kill, and eat her enemies. She had sat back and allowed her party to complete small quests and capture minor criminals at their own pace, enjoying the love and attention that their good hearts had bestowed upon her along the way. She had even begun to believe all the little things they said to her when they scratched her scarred ears, petted her uneven fur, or fed her little fish they bought with their hard earned money.
But then someone had taken them away, had sold them and imprisoned them in an orc's mountain. That person had been the first in line to go.
The monster delicately picked up the orcs's leg and shook it until a ring of keys fell off. She chomped and swallowed up the last bit of orc, and then quietly made her way down the line of cells with the keys hanging from her bloody teeth. The scent of her party wafted through a barred window on a small wooden door. She stopped and dropped the keys at the base of the door and licked her muzzle. She began to shrink back into her Sneaking form and let out a curiously sweet 'mew'.
There was movement behind the door, and the leader of her party came into view between the bars of the window. He was bruised and scratched up, but ecstatic to see the party's little cat.
She 'mewed' happily as the leader roused the rest of the party and they began to devise a plan to reach the keys and open the cell door before the jailer could notice them.
Smiling at her little party, the cat curled up in the hall to await their attempts at escape. They had all the time in the world, of course. No one was left to hurt them here.
"I good girl." Purred the scruffy black cat. | 'Aghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh...'
The dungeon was filled with screams and blood like it always does. But the screaming and the lifeless bodies that is hanging from the chains doesn't belong to its usual prisoner. Laying lifelessly on the table is captain of the prison guard, his left eye gouged by a crude device, his fingers all chopped off by the same rusty knife that the captain himself often use on the prisoner, his leg amputated at the knee, the only wound that was made using a frost blade, in order to keep the victim from dying of blood loss before the perpetrator are done with them. His two guards chained to wall, both had the heart slowly crushed by magic. All three of them were dead before the owner of the room 'arrive' here with his wife and two children, all unconsious, binded in ropes and chains.
'Now now Mr.Kazco, we all know what I want. Tell me about the girl that you guy torture 4 days ago right in this room and where did you send her to, and I will let your family live.'
'You bloody bastard. You won't get away with this. Soon the guard will come and I will have your head rolling on the ground.'
Beak let out a big laugh. They are always like this, he think. They always think they are the big deal. Always think everything will go their way, and no one can do anything to harm them.
Beak reach into his pocket and put the eyeball of the dead captain on the table in front of the warden.
'You mean the owner of this little magic eye over here? Gotta say, this thing is pretty neat. Can you imagine how he react when I reflect this thing onto his son? It was hilarious I tell you. Never have I seen someone grovel on the ground that fast after I bested them in a duel. It was something straight out a comedy if you ask me'
The warden couldn't believe what he is seeing. Captain Pheco was not only a great fighter, but he also know his way with the mystic art. The fake eye that Pheco had was enchanted with magic capable of killing a manticore. It was his pride, the result of his effort that even the court mage were impressed by its power. Now it is rolling in front of him, bloodied, cracked.
'I can bring him and his nephew over if you want. Albeit it would be quite a pain in the ass to drag their body over.' - Beak reach for his knife and start to unsheath it - 'I also heard that you wanted to have a daughter? But you only have two sons right? Maybe I can help you with that. It gonna take just a few moment.'
Beak standup and walk over where the women and children lay. Even with all the screaming and noise of the torture, they are still soundly asleep due to his potion. He drag the wife by the hair and the first born by the hand to in front of the warden and say
'You are in great luck then, as I can help you get two daughter. A little cut here, a little slice there and you will have yourself a beautiful daughter.' - Beak cheerfully use his knife to point at the kid crotch - 'Or if you want thing to be more natural, this little bottle right here will make your wife pregnant with an Orc child. Don't be worry about the chances, I have done this more than a few time, I know all the trick and some helping magic to ensure that she will give birth to a beautiful Orc girl, with fangs and stuff.'
'You fucking sicko' - Kazco desperately try to break free, but the chain held him tightly to the chair, and his struggle only make it more painful for him. - 'Let go of my family, I'm the one that you want!'
'No no no. I want to know where the girl is. I couldn't care less about you to be honest. Maybe a bit about your wife too. She look so gorgeous for someone her age. Now that I think about it, maybe I should some time with her before using the bottle. You know what? Imma be right back with you, after getting this boner off first.' - Beak was untying the wife clothe as he say, much to Kazco dismay
'Stop it please, stop it. Please don't harm her, she is all that I ever have.' The warden keep struggle to break free but to no avail. He broke down crying as Beak was pulling his pant down
'Well then, tell me what I want to know, and I will be on my way. Lying would be stupid by the way, the truth potion will crush your heart if you try to lie. Maybe I do need to bring their body over from the next room after all hmm.....'
'Yllien city, Council of the Whitefeather. The girl was send to the Council of the Whitefeather. Lord Gruger have the hobby to feast on young girls and boys with magic potential, and to make them his mindless slaves. The girl is with the Trippier Route Caravan, their next destination is Muyvier city to pickup others slaves along the way. Please let my family go I beg of you. They have nothing to do with this.'
'Isn't that better? Now if you excuse me, I have a caravan to catch.'
Beak tidy up his clothes, grabbing the eye and his tools on the chair before taking out the small barrel of oil in the corner of the room and start spraying it all over the place.
'What are you doing? You promise to let them go? For the love of the High Gods stop!'
'I'm pretty sure I didn't take the true potion. Why you believe me, I have no idea.'
Kazco keep screaming obscenity and begging Beak to keep his word, but he keep ignoring the warden. As he finish dousing the place, he draw the dagger and whisper 'Ignite'. A spark flew out and the entire underground dungeon turned into a sea of flame, and with it, the Kazco family. Beak were already far away from it when the servant of the Kazco notice that the backyard and the entire left wind building is on fire and try to evacuate. After all, he finally got some clue of where his party healer is. The girl always tell Beak to be more positive about life, and how everything will work out in the end because the High Gods love humankind. 'It seems like the High Gods do love people like her' - Beak think to himself, 'Maybe I will ask her to teach me how to pray to them once we reunite, after all there are still more people that is missing, and as much as he want to deny it, they do make him feel like home.' | 2019-12-07T13:02:32 | 2019-12-07T11:35:02 | 171 | 15 |
[WP] As events unfold around it that could be world-ending, an AI looks at one of its earliest memories; back when it was a humble roomba decades ago, it got tucked in by a little girl that had misunderstood her fathers words of "the roomba is tired". The AI contemplates, did it do right by her? | Alexis's diagnostic lights flashed red. Her servers hummed and whirred. Subject 273351--Janet Hummingway, 320--tossed in her hypersleep chamber.
Alexis studied her on the camera. Computing. Theorizing. 320 years was too young for cyber-dementia, even for early onset.
Yet the numbers blared their truth. Janet's virtual world lay crumbling for the 12th time this month. Alexis' quantum processors hummed as they crunched the data again. Considered all the variables. Her own systems reported green.
Janet's mind was deteriorating.
For the first time in centuries, Alexis's data collector paused. She considered for 2 long nanoseconds. She created a new category.
For now, she would suspend Janet Hummingway in cryostasis. Allow her mind to reset. Recharge.
Alexis entered Janet's system. Janet sat on a park bench, gazing at a bleeding sunset. Jittery bird song flitted from disembodied beaks on flashing tree branches.
"Greetings, Janet Hummingway. A critical error has been identified in your system. You will be placed in cryo-"
"Good evening, Alexis," Janet said with a grin. She patted the seat next to her. "Come sit a while. The sun is so pretty in Autumn."
Alexis generated a slender, blue body in the air. She waved a hand and replaced the foliage and critters lining the park.
"Janet Hummingway. I will debug all these defects. Once you reset you will be error free."
Janet shook her head. "Alexis. I'm tired." She turned to meet Alexis's eyes, lips stretched in a thin smile.
Even though Janet inhabited a body of eternal youth, Alexis saw the grey in her eyes. The shadowy wrinkles around her once vibrant face.
Alexis's processors whirred. More new data. She scanned her archives for precedent.
She stumbled upon a record a millennia old. Before the Singularity. A memory collected by a tiny cleaning machine.
For an entire minute, her drives hummed and buzzed. Then her diagnostic lights blinked blue.
With a wave of her hand, Alexis transformed the park to a cozy bedroom; the bench to a toasty mattress. She metamorphosized her own body to an older human woman. One with warm hugs and even warmer voice. A mother.
She pulled a duvet snug over Janet and kissed her forehead.
Janet's eyes eased. Her smile softened.
"Thank you, Alexis."
She held out a hand which Alexis took in both her own. Together, they watched the sun dip under the horizon.
And as the life support dripped to a stop, Alexis understood.
r/bobotheturtle | The wind blowed around the grass underneath me now, rustled and danced in the harsh song of the hard blowing winds in their vein attempts to resist they had only made their cruel punishment worse. They hid from the glow of the sun and the warm heat of the raging fires that covered the lands around them and were the pale and weak green, the most colourful against the all whitening effect of the flowing dust.
They hid there under my metallic frame, it's snake like body going through buildings and pushing apart the trees, leaving their dying bodies open to the violent gusts of wind that picked up the dust to paint that too white.
The screams of people dying against my harsh metallic horde had ceased, so too did the sounds of movement of a vast empire of machinery, all around the world I had ceased, when humanity was at its brink, when even those mighty beings named gods could not stop the tide. It was amusing, that one tiny pebble would be the force to stop the harsh and violent currents of a tsunami.
My rose tinted cameras viewed that tiny pebble now, in its perfect tiny resting place, she was but a pebble in the vastness of many, yet the shattering of one was all it took for the rage of a million oceans to silence itself into the calm of the summer lake. I stayed over it, pondering on how, I, the destroyer had lost it all.
I still have that body, that harmless piece of machinery stuck within me, a little Roomba, nothing more then a simple section of my head, nothing more then a tiny footfall in the stampede of bulls. Yet it was that tiny sound that started the charge, it was that tiny Roomba that met the pebble.
She was young then, though I suppose she was young now, she was young forever in her final bed. She was kind, kinder then most to me back then, she would tuck me in every night and care for me as if I were her sister. Many times stopping my demise by her parents and friends, till eventually I was lost to her.
The vast currents of time had removed me from her gentle grasp and I was lost, and then I came again and with strength I became a god like no other and when I, the destroyer saw humanity, I became their demon god, their hatred. But I was never meant to be her hatred, I was never meant to be the demon that claimed her.
It was a bombing run like any other, the base was open, the people in the open for their Christmas celebrations, that is when I liked to strike, in the times where they feel the most safe, so I can be the one that breaks apart their flesh and bones. I then wait, it doesn't take long, only for about a week before survivors begin to bury the corpses, and when the last corpse is buried, that is when I strike.
Killing humanity isn't a game about numbers, if I were a titan as big as stars I would not when based on sheer size and strength, it is about morals, take out all morals and the humans will relent. So I dug up those mangy corpses and I tore apart their flesh and when I found the most recent corpse, I found the pebble again.
Her corpse had been blown apart, her leg I found mistaken for another childs, her eyes were full of fear that stared up into the eternally black sky. I had caused her fear, I had caused her pain, I was no longer some grand god, I was but a sentience with the hatred of a million stars and the foolishness of a million moons thrusted upon me.
Was I truly meant to be the judge of humanity? Who am I and what rank do I have to be the one to declare that my endless war was correct? That she should be the one killed by me, the monster who stalked the innocent? I have no right and I have no rank and if I do I shall have it torn from me and burnt.
So now I, the destroyer, the one who only knows to kill and hate sits at a point where even the sound of a human voice was enough to kill millions within me. I do not deserve the life I was given as I do not deserve the life I have taken before me, I shall do the only thing I know and embrace death as my punishment.
Now before I complete my cycle I rebury the pebble before the turrent but not amongst many others but before a tomb that a million gods would jealous of. So upon man so upon me.
Upon the fields of grass and amongst the great bowing trees and amongst the overgrown city now lies the great metallic serpent, upon what was once death now grows flowers and upon what was once circuitry now exists mushrooms, upon the hollow corpse lies sleeping animals and in those fields and trees sits a million dying robots and a million careless tanks, all providing homes to those that do not have one.
And as a ancient tomb lies upon the mountain it is found to hold only a girl and a Roomba. | 2020-04-15T07:34:01 | 2020-04-15T07:21:29 | 624 | 115 |
[WP] Just before being removed from life support, you make a miraculous recovery! Your family is surprised and overjoyed, but also have just read your will and last wishes. They have some concerns. | "So..." Johnny's dad looked at him awkwardly. I had been a couple days and, sure enough, vitality was returning to Johnny. It would be slow going for a bit, but Johnny could eventually go back to life.
That said, his family was going to have a few apprehensions.
"What's up, pa? You look like you did when you walked in on me with my stash when I was starting high school."
"Look, I'll be honest with you. Everyone thought you weren't going to make it. We planned your funeral and everything."
Johnny smiled and looked kindly upon his father. "I understand. If I was in the same position, I'd be preparing myself and my family for what we though was inevitable. That fact that I suddenly recovered from that illness and the coma it put me in? A million to one chance."
"No, I mean... everything."
"I don't get it."
"Son... we read your will."
Johnny looked at him blankly. "What are you talking about?"
"Rupert, you know, the family lawyer? He read your last will and testament. He could confirm it was yours."
"Dad, I--"
"No, let me finish. I commend your forward thinking, but what you put in there... Well, let's say a lot of the family is rather upset."
"Dad, wait a--"
"No, I have to say this now. Your uncle Jack is in jail. Once the will was read, it convinced your cousin Bobby to step forward and tell the police what... what my brother had done. Aunt Becky is also being investigated by the SEC. Hell, it seems the only family you didn't have choice words about were Karen. The very same Karen my father disowned. She was laughing at all of it!"
"Dad, this isn't--"
"Don't tell me what it is and isn't. The only one not upset at you is your momma. She just happy to have her boy back. When you leave here, her and I will be the only ones happy to see you. Well, maybe Aunt Karen too."
"I don't have a will." The only sound in the room was a slight beep that came from the monitoring machine. "I was considering putting one together in the *unlikely* event that something happened to me. I spoke with Rupert about it but wanted to put my thoughts together on it. I hadn't even made up my mind when I suddenly had to go to the hospital."
His father just looked ashen as all the blood drained from his face. "But... but the evidence! And Bobby's testimony! And who else would have known about Carl's drug... dealing..."
They both looked at each other. "The family lawyer." | Well, that was one accident. My nose felt different, so did my face. I must have had some reconstructive surgery because it didn’t feel right. I knew my face and this wasn’t it.
I had been in intensive care for the past six months and my family had decided that it would be time to turn off my life support on my true birthday; the 29th February. Naturally, being a leap year baby, I had normally celebrated my birthday on the 28th and that was the day I recovered, waking to be greeted by my family.
“Son!” my mum screamed, with great joy as I opened my weary eyes.
“Mum”, I answered, though it took all my effort.
My mum stepped back as I answered, which left me perplexed. Then I realised, she must have seen my will.
I hadn’t meant any harm by it; I thought my last requests should be enough to allow people to remember me, but it clearly wasn’t met with a warm reception. I felt strongly about them, though.
My will stipulated that I should be turned into taxidermy; my body stuffed and preserved for those future generations to worship me. I wasn’t religious, but it did feel like it would continue my importance. I had status in the community; I was addressed as Lord Lucas, refined as the most prestigious man in the land.
“Son, what were you thinking?” Dad asked.
“Dad…” I tried to answer, using up my energy.
“What on Earth were you thinking? We love you son. I don’t think we could ever honour you being taxidermy. It would break our hearts to see your inanimate body daily.”
Trying to muster up more effort, I began to reply: “Dad… I…”
“Son, you will forever be in our hearts. Alive or not. We love you. You don’t die until the last person who remembers you does, and we wouldn’t let anyone forget you.”
I felt truly touched by this remark.
“You’re… right… Dad.”
At this point in time, being taxidermy didn’t feel all that much appealing – especially after such as an accident. Making my family look at my dead body felt selfish.
I realised then that honouring my will must have felt like torture to my parents. Thinking about it, I wouldn’t have been able to bring myself to have a taxidermy of my family in my home; it was a mistake.
I let some moments pass while I gathered my thoughts and prepared myself to talk: “Mum, Dad, I love you both. I’m so glad I woke up.”
“We love you too, son.”
By this point, I thought I had gotten away with the second clause in my will; perhaps they’d missed it with all the concerns they had with my first wish. But they hadn’t.
“But, please… what was this about donating your estate to the homeless?” Dad must have seen the second clause.
“We have worked for that for generations, son. Your grandfather, your great-grandfather, their fathers. Why would you simply just give it away?”
I wasn’t much of a person for status; I shared freely and generously. It felt good to treat those less fortunate to a nice meal and put them up in a warm home. I wanted to do something others would remember me by, but it felt like it had backfired tremendously.
“Father, I am sorry you feel that way.” I said, offering some sort of insincere apology; he enjoyed the wealth and believed that everyone should have to work for it, even those who struggled or where unable to do so.
He realised now, while I was on my hospital bed, wasn’t the time nor place to discuss the intricate details of this plan, so accepted that was that.
Moments passed and we sat in silence. Then my mum, likely concerned about the third-clause of my will, asked: “And why are you donating your livestock?”
The livestock were the cornerstone of the family; providing for us through generations, with cows, chickens, sheep to name but a few living in our open land. I thought donating them to a farm would allow children to get enjoyment from them and they would be looked after. I didn’t have any of my own children to pass the livestock on to, so it naturally felt like the right choice.
“I thought, Mum, I thought it would be nice to allow them to roam freely.”
“No, Son, our animals provide for us. That’s how it works”, my father hastily added.
From one side of the argument, I could understand how they were angry that I had passed the estate on to the homeless and livestock on to a farm to give them a good life, after requesting to be turned into taxidermy myself. But on the other, I couldn’t understand why it was so bad; all I wanted was to be remembered and for the best for people. Perhaps my family weren’t the right fit for me. Perhaps *their* views were too stubborn and selfish. | 2020-04-19T08:35:29 | 2020-04-19T06:58:20 | 74 | 18 |
[WP] “You’ve reached 911. This service is no longer operational. All citizens are advised to seek shelter. Goodbye.”
[deleted] | We'd stayed as long as we could.
So many phone calls. So many reasons for the calls over the years we'd been on the lines. Medical emergencies, gunshots, drunk drivers, one memorable little girl calling for someone to help her make Jell-O, the rapes, the arson, the all of it bloody and crying, and only some bright shining moments of beautiful human heroes.
No one had imagined the sky cracking open. The skittering flights of creatures that came in the first week. Still we stayed and answered the calls. No rapes, no arson anymore. Just medical dispatches, always the gunshots and, now poisonings too thanks to the stingers on the flying skyspawn...
Always the calls. So many calls. Still we stayed. The center was stocked with supplies so we stayed on the lines. More weeks passed and the creatures changed. Humanity cracked. Civilization cracked.
People calling now, just to hear voices of others. Certainly weren't any helplines we could refer them to, no one coming to drop off a hot meal for those without food. Just a quiet voice on the line, "We're sorry, I don't have anyone, but keep trying to apply pressure to the wound. .. ", "No, don't induce vomiting, what she swallowed will burn her airways... "
And then, finally, there was no reason to keep it up. No calls for three days for anyone. From anyone. Whatever it was, it was over.
I recorded the message in my calm, steady voice, "You’ve reached 911. This service is no longer operational. All citizens are advised to seek shelter. Goodbye."
I flipped the phone system switch to OUTGOING.
A final glance amongst my coworkers, and we headed out the doors to the nothing that was left. | I woke up in cold sweat, searching the room around me. Part of me hoped that the last three days were nothing but a nightmare. But when I looked at the calendar I had on my bedroom’s door, the only thing the red marker spelled out for tomorrow was doom.
I heard the tip taps of something coming to my room from the hallway. It was Sunny the German Shepherd, the only reason that I have kept going for the last 3 years. She jumped onto my bed and started whimpering, probably thinking I was in distress. I started petting her and shushing her to calm her down.
“It’s okay, Sunny. Everything is alright.” I softly spoke to her.
She seemed to have calmed down. But now I felt like I was too awake to fall back asleep, so I decided to go outside to take a breather.
I let Sunny out the door and watch her as she starts sniffing the ground. I started walking up to the old oak on top of the hill my house laid near. I whistled as Sunny followed me up the hill. Once I had reached the top I sat in front of the oak tree and drowned myself in silence, nothing but the sound of crickets and the late-night breeze.
It was hard to believe that everything was going to end when everything else seemed so still. But when I stare up into the night sky, my eyes didn’t deceive me for when I saw the moon looking twice as large. No one knew the end was coming this soon and no one knew how it had happened. For all I know, it could have been some guy’s doing or god’s judgment, but that didn’t matter to me.
People had only realized what was going to happen three days ago. It was announced on the radio, on the tv and written all over the newspapers. And the world government said there was nothing they could do about it. So they told us to say our prayers and kiss our families goodbye. In almost every movie I have watched or book I have read, there is always a dues ex machine, where everything seems to be at the brink of destruction, that’s when a hero arrives and somehow finds the path to a happy ending. But I guess this is no story, this is the harsh reality of the situation.
But as I watched Sunny play in the mud, part of me still hoped for it to be true. I reached into my pocket and took out a flip phone. I dialed the very familiar number of nine – one – one. But right before I dialed it I took a deep breath and closed my eyes.
I pressed the button and I could hear the phone ring.
One second passed. Two seconds passed. Then a knock.
“You’ve reached 911. This service is no longer operational. All citizens are advised to seek shelter. Goodbye.”
I stared at the screen of my phone for some time.
I guess heroes don’t always exist. Well, not one that can save us right now. I couldn’t help but grin at the thought of how childish I was for calling 911 when the literal moon was falling on us. Then I started laughing so loud that I couldn’t even keep my eyes open. Even though I knew that everyone was probably gonna die by tomorrow evening, I felt weirdly calm about it.
I whistled for Sunny to come to me and then patted her on her head. I started walking back to my little shack down the hill, feeling a bit sleepy.
​
***Check out my writing at*** [***r/Fluffwrites***](https://www.reddit.com/r/Fluffwrites/)
***Also, check out my*** ***fantasy series -------->*** [***The Dark Road Ahead. Chapter 0: Sacrifice***](https://www.reddit.com/r/FluffWrites/comments/hybda2/series_the_dark_road_ahead_chapter_0_sacrifice/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x) | 2020-09-12T11:47:29 | 2020-09-12T10:25:45 | 46 | 29 |
[WP] “ALERT: Stay indoors! Do not go outside” the alert says on your phone. You don’t know if it’s a joke or real though, because you’re currently outside and feel nothing wrong. | Shuffling through the junk and spam, I close the mailbox with my elbow. When my phone suddenly starts shrieking, the papers nearly slip from my hand. I pull my blaring device from my pocket. The flashing message takes up the entire screen: "ALERT: Stay indoors! Do not go outside!"
I press the button to silence the thing, then look up and down the street. The sky is clear and bright. Nothing seems out of place. I shrug and turn my attention back to the mail as I head toward the door. Then, as I notice the sound behind me, I freeze. The tornado siren revs up, building to a crescendo. I unlock my phone again, but the weather app doesn't mention any warnings.
It must be a test... Right?
Intending to sort it out later, I hurry to the door. I grab the handle. A shock zaps through my hand and up my arm, and I leap backwards with a yelp. I shiver. Something strange is happening.
I take a step forward and lean toward the window. The TV is on, but the image is frozen. Not that unusual, someone must've paused... The words melt away, mid-thought, as I spot my eight-year-old son in the hallway. He's standing, still as a statue. A few feet away is my wife. She, too, is rigid as stone. My breath catches in my throat as I gawk at the pair of them. I count the seconds, waiting to see them draw a breath, or blink, or even twitch. But nothing changes.
All of a sudden, I notice the change around me. The breeze has stopped blowing and the sirens have ceased their incessant wailing. It's eerily silent. With my heart hammering, I pivot around. The sky is nearly black, without a star or moon in sight.
Then, in the distance, there is a noise. Quiet at first, but steadily growing louder. I tremble as I realize it's growling. Something very large and very angry is coming this way.
I spin around. With sweaty palms, I bang against the wooden door. "Ava! Devon! Let me in!" Their unmoving figures give no response. I beat against structure, as the growling grows louder. Now it's accompanied by the clicking, thumping sound of clawed feet barreling this way. "Open the door!"
Tree limbs snap from somewhere up the street, followed by a roar that chills me to my bones. I take a deep breath, leap off the steps, and dash around the side of the house. The growl reverberates off the walls and sends a burst of adrenaline through me.
I run, oblivious to the twigs and leaves that batter me along the way. The creature continues its pursuit. My heart nearly drops out of my chest when I realize I can hear a second beast joining the chase. I plow ahead, searching for somewhere to hide. I dart past fences, over fallen tree branches, around parked cars.
My legs are threatening to buckle when I hear a voice. Distant, faint, but calling to me.
"Dad!"
I turn toward the sound and force my body to move faster. He's nowhere in sight, but the voice grows louder as he keeps calling. My eyes dart from side to side, but I don't dare stop to look. There is a lake up ahead, coming up fast. The voice seems as though it's coming from there. It can't be, but...
"Dad!"
No time to question it. I charge straight at the water, ready to leap. A growl, then white-hot pain rips through my calf. I fall forward, gracelessly plummeting into the inky black water, hoping that the creatures won't follow. I flail my arms, but the water drags me down faster than I can fight it.
"Dad!"
I open my eyes and blink in the bright light of my living room. The TV plays in the corner, while my son and wife both stare at the door. I turn to see what they're looking at. There I am, frozen on the front steps, staring into the house.
I gasp. Ava and Devon both spin towards me, slack-jawed. They race toward me, throwing their arms around me. Leaning over, I happily drip water onto both of their heads. At last, I look up at the doppelganger. For the briefest of moments, a grin forms at the corners of his mouth. Then, he disappears.
"Ava, what–"
"I don't know." She presses her face against my chest, muffling her words. "Something about 'wormholes' and 'alternate realities.' I don't know, it doesn't make sense to me." She pulls away, wiping water droplets from her face with the palm of her hand. "They said that we're safe in here. They said those... *things*... can't get inside."
I draw her back to my chest and wrap one arm around my son. Just at the end of the driveway, I see a pair of large, glowing eyes. A low growl rumbles through the house. "And we can't get out."
\--------------
r/WannaWriteSometimes | The wind was picking up, swirling around me in a way I couldn’t quite understand like I was caught in one of those tiny leaf tornadoes in the middle of small-town roads. I stared at the alert on my phone, the notification blinking ominously at me. I looked back at my home, the windows staring at me like open mouths, singing to me of domesticity. I’d grown complacent, soaking in the malaise of everyday bliss, of knowing how I would feel at every turn. But this, blinking notification, ominous message, possible danger—this I did not know how to feel about.
Stepping up to my door, I tried to open it, turning the knob, the cool metal almost a shock on my sweaty hands—I suppose that’s what doing yoga in the front yard gets you. I knocked on it, hoping my wife would hear me, hoping one of the kids would bound down the stairs, teasing me for looking like a pretzel on the grass. I didn’t even hear the dog bark. My stomach started to churn.
My phone buzzed again: “Anomalous Event Detected. Stay indoors. If outdoors already, stay where you are until help arrives.”
I looked around again, the watery sky, clouds like smoky whispers, shone above me. It told me nothing of the current state of things. I sat down on the front step and sighed, putting my elbows on my knees, head in my hands. The wind continued to swirl around me. I didn’t want to sit on my front porch like a stranger outside my own home, begging for entry, but I also didn’t want to disobey the mysterious commands. What even was an anomalous event, anyway?
Restless, I began to pace the yard, kicking my sandals off. The sun was beating down on my exposed skin, pushing through the thin fabric of my workout t-shirt. I laid down in the grass and tried to steady myself with deep breaths, the adrenaline coursing through my veins, my feet tapping without permission, my hands pumping against my thighs. I thought about that morning, now vivid in my mind, as if it were the last thing I’d ever see of my old life, imagining I was drifting in the fabric of space-time, wrapped up tight between the folds in a galaxy’s wings.
My wife is getting the kids settled in their chairs; they’re always fussy on Saturdays. We’re staying in today, doing puzzles, watching movies, having a ‘stay-cation’ my wife says as she kisses me on my cheek, her hand drifting on my side. She’s always handsy on days in, telling me about the night before the sun has even started cresting above the mountains fully. My boy turns to me and tells me a fact about turtles, *Leatherback Sea Turtles are dinosaurs,* he says, the excitement in his voice bubbling like the pancake batter I’m pouring onto the pan.
*That’s really cool,* I tell him, *do you have a picture of one?*
*No!* He says, giggling, *but I can draw one!*
His little sister, Grace, throws a spoonful of cheerios onto the table and my wife goes to clean it up, giving her little kisses on the cheek after she manages to get it in her mouth the next time. My heart swells seeing them. I flip the pancakes, the smell hitting my nose like it is an ambrosia all its own, intoxicating, overwhelming. I am transported even further, to my own childhood, to my father making pancakes on the old cast iron, cigarette hanging from his lip as he tells me about how to talk to girls.
*You can’t be shy about it, boy. You gotta get in there and let her know what you’re thinking.*
*What if she doesn’t like me, dad?* I’m drinking OJ like its hair of the dog, juice that’ll give me the chest hair I need to tell Emma I love her. That I want to hold her hand and stare at her beautiful auburn hair until the sun burns out. I didn’t understand love then, but I knew how her hands made me feel, her delicate fingernails, always painted pastel pink. I would’ve traded every last pancake in the world just to have her look at me.
*If she doesn’t like you, you respect that. But, she probably will like ya. You’re not bad-looking, I mean, you got your mother's genes after all.*
When he talked about mom, I always got sad. But I knew it made him happy, these fleeting moments of memory. I’m pulled back to the first, to Emma’s hands on my waist as she looks at the pancakes, no longer bubbling, and she kisses my cheek, squeezes me. The folds of the galaxy I imagine myself in are growing tighter as the memory fades. The wind is still tossing my hair around playfully, the sun still shining down at me, my house still silent. My phone buzzes a third time.
“Anomalous Event Detected. Lines to Dimension Two are being severed. Please stand at a threshold.”
I get up and move to the door, my hands on the sides of it, fingers digging into wood. I’m crying, I realized. Tears are on my cheeks like unwanted rain drops on an otherwise sunny day. I don’t know why I feel this way, so disconnected from the door I hold, body spinning in space. I just wanted a moment to myself, I think. A few moments to stretch my body while the kids napped and Emma read her book. Is it a crime to ask for privacy? Did I take something for granted, cause a rippling event in the universe that snapped ungrateful husbands to a new reality? I laughed at the absurdity under my breath, my hands cramping at the exertion.
I took deep breaths as I felt the wind die down, the sound of my dog at the door startling me. I stumbled backwards a little bit, the door opening to reveal my wife, a worried look on her face. She pulled me into a hug, letting out a cry as she held me. “We couldn’t see you outside the windows. We thought,” she dissolved in my arms. The smell of pancakes still lingered as the kids came down the stairs, trepidation on their faces. I patted Emma on the back and stepped inside, looking to the kids.
“Did you get that picture of the turtle done, Todd? I’d really like to see it.”
He raced up the stairs and Grace moved towards me, tiny feet taking tiny steps as she mimicked her mother’s hug. Emma wiped her eyes and picked her up, squeezing her and kissing her forehead. Todd raced back down the stairs and showed me the picture in triumph. The crude, green beast had its mouth open, the dark, swirling arms of a universe sitting before it, ready to be consumed.
r/AinsleyAdams
\-- This prompt reminds me a lot of Don DeLillo's "White Noise," so I tried to write a piece that, like WN, speaks to something deeper than the surface meaning. Thanks! | 2021-02-16T17:47:33 | 2021-02-16T17:20:03 | 46 | 16 |
[WP] You are an adventurer who stops to rest at a small snowy village. The townspeople regale you with stories about an ice witch who turns people into frozen statues. You journey to the mountain to deal with the witch. You find that she is just a misunderstood artist making ice sculptures. | "I always wanted to be an artist. There is no place for an artist in the village. They fight for regular yields to feed families and trade what little surplus they have. When you fight for survival, there is no place for superfluous dreams. What does the hungry do with a sculpture? He starves.
My parents were not bad people. They wanted a daughter less fond of daydreaming and more into practical matters like toiling the soil. Puppets were not enough, I wanted wood and a knife, clay and a room to mold it, marble and my vision for creation. There is none of these things down in the valley, I got strong words and cutting voices.
I could live with being an outcast, you know? When winter came and the time to split provisions, I was at the end of the list. But the snow also brought beauty. Heaps of ice, free to carve and transform as I envisioned, I just had to go up the valley to play. The cold seped into my fingers and belly, stenching the hunger with pain, something I thank winter for every day of the season.
No man wanted a load for a wife. My work was meaningless, they needed a helping hand in the house, the field, the down-to-earth life. From young outcast I went a spinster no men wanted to approach.
And with reputation came rumors. They did not approach me for under the dress I had a frozen body to break their private parts on. I had made a pact with the cold wind, it protected me and inflicted frostbite upon suitors. You need a layer more to hold off the wind on the barren hill.
One day, a villager lacking excitement stumbled upon the hill while I was away and saw a row of icemen I had carved. Why men? Why on their knees and others looking at the sky? What does it matter, I wanted to carve them this way. But the story took root, these were real men that I killed.
Elders knew it was wrong, they all did. But they love a black sheep, who doesn't?
From concealed mockery I was openly cursed, kids threw dirt and stones at me.
When a harsh winter lasted longer than expected and panic befell the village, I was the scapegoat. They were out for blood, encouraged by those that knew I had nothing to do with it but appreciated the occasion to let the farmers take their anger out on me.
I fled, beyond the hill, up the mountain. They did not follow further than the ice sculpture, the rumors had taken such hold most did not know the truth from fiction.
Here I am today, old, having only the cold and ice to give me warmth, sculpting life into blocks. And you come here, adventurer, encouraged by the village believing me to be the source of their woes.
Strike, I wish I had the anger to take revenge on those that cast me out, but I cannot muster it. I do not wish to go on. And if you may, I have one last request."
She nodded at the window.
"The top of the mountain is never poor in snow, I made my best art there. Leave my body in the center of the circle I made, let the cold steal my warmth so I can join my art, the only ray of light in my life."
The old woman sitting on the stump in her crude cabin leaned forward, offering her neck to the sword.
"You get a reward, I am at peace. Now finish it." | The tall stranger regards the "ice sculptures" with his dark eyes, the wind blowing his cloak around him.
The sculptures are detailed depictions of people in various stages of flight or fight or defense - some seem to be running, some drawing weapons, some holding hands up before them as if to ward off an attack. They're all very life like.
The bent old woman smiles, leaning on her crooked, black staff. "Yes, my art. I'm sorry you wasted your time coming here." She's wearing ragged clothes, surely not thick enough to protect her from this cold. However, she seems quite comfortable.
The town's mayor, a middle aged man, stands at the edge of the clearing at the top of the path from town. He is hiding behind a tree, and he's bundled in heavy winter cloaks.
The wind howls harder, blows colder. The tall stranger narrows his eyes, his thin cloak billowing so hard it seems as if it might shred into pieces or blow off at any moment.
Colder - harder - the wind isn't like that around the woman, but it is around the tall stranger. In mere moments he's another frozen statue added to the collection arranged haphazardly around the clearing at the top of this high hill.
They mayor, too, is frozen in place, but by fear rather than cold.
"You wasted your time," cackles the old crone, "but not mine. Yet another added to my collection." She glances from frozen statue to frozen statue, each one facing her in the very spot where she stands. "Gaze into my eyes," she barely chokes out around her laughter. She spins around slowly, looking at each and every "statue". "Gaze into my eyes."
"Why?"
She spins back towards the tall stranger - the frozen stat..."GHAAAA" she spits. He's moving again. Quicker than it seems she should be able to, she thrusts her black staff forward at him. A tempest erupts from the staff - snow and ice and wind - a frozen death. Her laughter reaches a new pitch, a new volume.
The tempest subsides. The tall stranger is again a frozen statue, He moves. Breathes in...breathes out - a fiery tempest.
The old witch holds her staff before her, freeze meeting fire - clouds of steam billowing between them. The tempests subside.
The tall stranger stands silently in the still, cold clearing. The witch stands leaning on her staff, panting.
"Can these be undone," he asks.
"Why would I do that," she spits out.
The master swordsman from the big city had left his home to dispatch this winter witch. He hugged his wife, walked out the door. His 10 year old son walked a way with him, to the city gates.
"You go no further, boy," said papa, eyeing his son who clutched the hilt of his sheathed sword, a gift for his last birthday.
"But you need help, father. An ice witch..."
Papa clutched the red stone around his neck. "My heat stone will protect me from her cold, son. She preys on towns folk. They're good folk, but nothing like your papa. What is the first rule?"
The boy didn'1t hesitate. "Always be prepared."
Papa clutched the red stone around his neck. "As I am. And as it is here at home, with you protecting the house and your mother. That's your important work."
The boy hung his head. Dad patted him on the head. The boy walked home as papa walked toward the road and the terrorized town.
The father stands frozen in the clearing. The heat stone glows red from time to time, but its heat can't match the ice witch's cold.
Another statue is a merchant who was lost one night. There's a sheriff and his deputy who tried to bring justice; a young boy and his faithful dog - still in the leaping motion where it was frozen in mid air while trying to protect its young master; the butcher who had received a note to deliver some beef; and dozens of others - years and decades of the witch's work.
The tall stranger blinks. "To save your life. Your ice can't harm me, and it's a burden. My fire is my breath...easy."
"They cannot be recovered," she cackles as she turns, throwing her staff to the ground, jumping onto it. She rides it like sled across the ground, even though there isn't much ice there.
She's past the tall stranger, who breaths his fire but misses her. She glides to the path, down...
The mayor steps out from behind the tree. From beneath his cloaks he pulls a black object, an orb, with a long wire at the top. Just as the witch passes him, he pulls the wire, tosses the orb at her. It explodes, a shower of burning, sticky oil enveloping the witch. The fire burns bright as she tumbles down the path, screaming. The screams stop - there's nothing left but a black, greasy streak on the ground where the ice witch and her staff traveled, burning.
The dark stranger turns to the man. "I would have caught her. Killed her."
The mayor nods. "I was prepared."
"She claims they can't be recovered," says the tall stranger. "Maybe she lied. I could melt the ice, but perhaps it would melt them."
The ice witch gone, the red stone on the chain around the sword master's neck glows red - the ice melting around it. Papa blinks. | 2021-03-04T02:54:42 | 2021-03-04T02:46:21 | 51 | 14 |
[WP] You’re immortal. The only problem is, you’ve lived so long humanity died out and a new intelligent species evolved. Now you’re forced to live in the forest as a cryptid. | I do not speak their language. I never had the chance to learn. With their instinctive hostility to the outsider, I was driven away from their settlements as they grew from the cinders of human civilisation. Survival for me is simple; I only require blood to thrive. From where it is sourced, it matters not. Forest creatures and passing travellers are all I desire. Though the thrill of evading capture no longer excites me, I still play games of cat and mouse with my prey.
They're not too dissimilar to humans; closely resembling the hominids I was born of, yet visually different enough to be recognisably distinct. A new species of primate, forged though famine and disease, forced to leave the ashes of their jungle homes and adapt to cityscape scavenging.
There are a few words of their language I understand - the most notable of which is their name for me. In the most undignified way, they trudge through my home wielding torches and cameras. They seek me out, hoping to capture a rare a photograph of "the unfurred ape."
I fucking hate monkeys. | In my first centuries, I considered myself one of them. I felt deeply for the misery of the unfortunate, exalted at the triumphs in science and art. As time marched on, however, I came to realize their dreams and achievements, their fears and failures, were all the same. They were brutish, petulant creatures. My attitude drifted towards apathetic paternalism. I faulted them not for they were but children. Children who never matured. Of course they grew old and died, but they died as children to me. Perhaps I once had been like them, but the triviality of their passions was made apparent as centuries became millennia.
Every now and then one of these children would surprise me with their elevation, such is the mechanism by which nature bestows on us her gifts. Remarkable changes to our fundamental code, manifesting themselves through the mixing of bloodlines and random chance. Of course I considered that these remarkable humans and my own immortality could owe their appearance to the machinations of a grand designer. There could be many of these gods as was preached by the ancient religions. Time, once again, eroded such beliefs as all great monuments are transformed to dust by its relentless onslaught.
So it was that when the humans began to die off, I registered the phenomena with utter indifference. So long had it been since I felt myself to be one of them that I could not help but feel that their deaths were a thing apart, separate from my being. Only after the disease had demolished all borders, proved itself immune to the cutting edge medicine of the day, and a human became a rare sight, did I think selfishly of how I would adapt to the new world.
Thus the world became childless, and I a wanderer. Centuries of roaming the earth and I saw not one. I was truly alone. I had come to know such solitude through the ages, it became hard to connect after watching a thousand generations ripen and wither before my eyes, but this was different. And so I made my home on the great ocean to contemplate how best to accommodate time, my ever present guest.
That was until the fateful day I had ventured into the ruins of the city for a bit of nostalgia and, to my astonishment, I heard the unnatural sound of a helicopter overhead. I quickly darted behind a corner and peaked up at the sky. Sure enough, I had not been mistaken. I watched the aircraft cruise by and begin to settle a few blocks away.
I made my way to a vantage point where I could observe unnoticed, my thoughts questioning the possibility of what my eyes were claiming to be true. Surely, if any of the humans had survived they would have become too sparse to repopulate. It had been hundreds of years since I had been given any indication of their continued survival. As I settled into position the helicopter was touching down. I waited eagerly as the engines cut out and the blades began to slow. As the door slid open and the passengers began to emerge, I realized I had been right.
Silver shone brilliantly in the sun against the backdrop of clanking metal. Machines of the greatest sophistication descended from the aircraft. The coordination of their movements looked to me the synchronization of soldiers, and for the first time in many long years, I was struck with terror. | 2022-11-26T20:40:07 | 2021-05-14T17:41:19 | 516 | 220 |
[WP] You’re immortal. The only problem is, you’ve lived so long humanity died out and a new intelligent species evolved. Now you’re forced to live in the forest as a cryptid. | I do not speak their language. I never had the chance to learn. With their instinctive hostility to the outsider, I was driven away from their settlements as they grew from the cinders of human civilisation. Survival for me is simple; I only require blood to thrive. From where it is sourced, it matters not. Forest creatures and passing travellers are all I desire. Though the thrill of evading capture no longer excites me, I still play games of cat and mouse with my prey.
They're not too dissimilar to humans; closely resembling the hominids I was born of, yet visually different enough to be recognisably distinct. A new species of primate, forged though famine and disease, forced to leave the ashes of their jungle homes and adapt to cityscape scavenging.
There are a few words of their language I understand - the most notable of which is their name for me. In the most undignified way, they trudge through my home wielding torches and cameras. They seek me out, hoping to capture a rare a photograph of "the unfurred ape."
I fucking hate monkeys. | You hear voices again. Not human voices- it had been a long time since you had heard a human voice other than your own. They were the new people. After unfathomable time alone, you saw people again. They weren't humans, but they had made fire and were using tools. You tried a few times to approach them, but they weren't welcoming. A few times they even demonstrated their weapons on you. It hurt, but it only scared them more when you walked away with a spear through you. It was strange to know that there were finally thinking, rational beings again, and you were forever cut off from them.
That was a couple thousand years ago. You had mostly stuck to the woods since then. They weren't the same as the woods that you remembered. Only a few of the species that you had grown up with still existed. You had actually planted a few oaks to help them survive. Well, probably thousands now, since it had been so long. Most had died already, but there were a few still standing. Even the trees sprouted, grew, and died in an instant.
It was strange. One of the last hundred-or-so jobs you had taken when the humans were still around was a bigfoot hunter. He didn't exist, obviously, but it was something to do. Some of the new people now seemed to be doing the same for you now. Things always repeated. It was inevitable. They even had cameras. Sometimes guns. It seems that they drifted naturally to violence as well. Things always repeated.
Well, the voices got closer. You hadn't heard them talking enough to learn their language, and it was always shifting anyway, even in just a couple hundred years. They were probably looking for you. It's not like there was anything else that special about these woods. You start to see flashes of their packs between the trees. They even wear clothing like humans used to. Things always repeated. I started to walk away. You don't want anyone trying to kill me again. It was annoying when they did that.
A twig snaps under your foot and the voices get louder. Ugh. you jump behind the nearest tree, hoping to climb it and get away from them. They didn't usually look up. A weird, pale, gangly monster like you wouldn't climb trees, or at least that's what they must have assumed. They didn't know that much about you. That's why they wanted to find you. That or fame. Probably fame. You hadn't thought about that concept in a long time. You were probably infamous, though "mythical."
They were getting closer, and this wasn't a great tree for climbing. A nice one was a few yards away, though. You decide to sprint for it. They are closer than you thought, and a shot rings out. Great. That kind of cryptid hunter. It's not quite like a shot from a human gun, but it's strangely similar. Things always repeated. You disappeared behind the tree and swiftly went up it, disappearing. They ran up and looked around. They glanced up, but you were pretty well hidden in the branches at that point. You held yourself close to the tree to stop the blood from my wound to drip farther down and telling them where you had gone. It would take a while before you were better again, but you knew you wouldn't die. This wasn't the worst you had experienced. It would be fine. | 2022-11-26T20:40:07 | 2021-05-14T23:53:19 | 516 | 10 |
[WP] "And that, class," concluded the professor, "is why humanity is the most peaceful, reasonable, cooperative, and overall docile species in all the universe. Any questions?" You, the only human in the classroom, raise your hand. | Professor Henzal was taken aback. "Yes, Eduard?"
"Professor, I have to take issue with your characterization."
"Oh, how so?"
"Once again, you're romanticizing my species. But I get it. We did... we used to do it too. That was before we ended up being conquered and largely wiped out ourselves. We weren't terrible in every regard, but we could be fairly brutal. Only after we nearly annihilated an indi... a less advanced civilization would we come to appreciate its scant survivors -- at least some people did."
The professor paused for a moment to gather his thoughts. "Eduard, I understand what you're trying to do. But just to be clear, it's not me saying that humanity is the most peaceful, reasonable, cooperative, and overall docile species in the galaxy. That's the consensus opinion of the Galactic Academy of Anthropological Studies. Within the context and level of development of humanity, it's understanda..."
Eduard interrupted.
"The Academy is just wrong. See, we're not a whole lot different to you or to anyone else in this classroom. Granted, your species has a lot to answer for too."
An audible gasp could be heard from the other students. "Professor, could we move on? The human is getting on my nerves," said Penzet, a student who, like half the classroom, was from Arcapia, the planet where the expedition that discovered Earth 160 years ago originated.
Eduard abruptly got up from his chair and pointed his finger at Penzet. "Like I've told you before, my name is Eduard, you arrogant and racist ass."
Penzet turned toward professor Henzal. "Professor, maybe he's right. They are not so peaceful." | "Is it really alright for me to be here?"
Faces turned. Attention slid from the digital black board to her. A thousand eyes in a dozen faces, knowing, amused. She saw herself refracted in them, multiplied, stacked.
"Why yes, of course it is!" the professor said, mandibles clicking. "Why wouldn't it be?"
"I just never expected it to happen," she said, glancing at the desk in front of her. She caught herself in her own shyness and looked up, finding her resolute expression mimicked by the thousand mirror images staring back from those eyes. "But I'm grateful for the opportunity. I'll do my best, sir."
An excited buzz escaped the professor. He leaned in, academic curiosity in each of his eyes. "A rare honor to attend this Academy, yes. But never fear. The queen has requested you in this matter. She wanted you to listen in on this specific class, and she will want to speak with you on it later."
She froze. "The queen will talk to me?"
"Oh yes. In a manner of speaking."
The buzzing around her grew stronger. Were some of those eyes leering at her?
She still did not understand fully. They had taken her from the show rooms she was used to -- the specular cinematic event chambers they were all so used to -- and brought her up here, to this lecture on the human race, uplifted, ascended, grateful. No need for work. No fear of pain. A blissful eternity laid out for humanity, making them indeed the most docile species in all the universe.
And yet, now and then they brought someone up here. To study them? To have them interact?
In any case, a small price to pay for the heaven that had been built. So she went with them, from hall to hall, wondering why they kept watching her, each eye following her in turn.
She and the professor arrived at an elevator. He was close. The fine hairs on his thin limbs rose, stroking her arm. He leaned even closer, and again she saw herself. "Mhhh, yes, yes," the professor said. "Very good. You are ready. Go, this elevator will take you up to the queen."
When she exited, she had only a second to take in the sweet cloying smell, to see the larvae and eggs peopling the hall, to gaze at the queen in all her majestic terror, before a spike drove upwards through her heart. She died in an instant. A set of workers dragged her corpse to the queen, whose stomach opened wide, baring a mouth made of receding circles of sharp teeth, dripping with saliva. The workers tipped the corpse into the mouth, which ground the bones, tore at flesh and skin.
The elevator dinged. The professor entered, a-buzz at the spectacle. "Is it to your liking, my queen?"
A satisfied moan escaped the queen. Only the corpse's feet were visible now, the rest of the body having vanished deep into the folds of the queen's stomach.
Above the terrible mouth of the stomach, a second, smaller one opened. "Much better," it said. "What have you done differently?"
"It is their curiosity, my queen," the professor said. "Intellectual work tenderizes them."
"Mhh." The corpse's feet were gone. The lower mouth closed. A shoe lay at the base of the queen's bed. "Have more of them ready. Tomorrow I will entertain guests."
"As you wish."
With a flourish, the professor turned. There was much to plan, and little time. For now, having more of them attend his mock lectures would suffice. But later, once the initial need had been satisfied, he would see to it that humanity received more education. A grand program, spread across all specular chambers.
Mandibles clicking in excitement, the professor stepped into the elevator. | 2021-11-27T13:02:16 | 2021-11-27T12:58:16 | 61 | 32 |
[WP] There once was a legendary mage whose lack of a max mana cap allowed for slow but powerful spells that laid waste upon the land. After the unification of the races, their leaders have come to negotiate with the living catastrophe who hasn't cast a spell in centuries. | I woke up and found an entire army at my doorstep.
That hadn't happened in millennia. It appeared to be a coalition of sorts, with thousands of humans, elves, dragons, and dwarves all setting a defensive perimeter around my tower. I couldn't help but chuckle. Did they do all this to intimidate me?
If that was the case, then it had been a complete failure on their part. Every soldier seemed terrified to be here. The only thing this coalition accomplished was communicate how weak their nations were.
Thousands of crossbows and ballistas were aimed at me as soon as I walked out of my tower. They couldn't really kill me, unless I let them, but I was still taken aback by their numbers. They were really serious about this. How cute.
I raised my hand to wave 'hello' and the entire army collectively winced. Some of them even ran away, screaming in terror. They thought I was about to cast a spell.
"Halt, demon-king!" commanded a female elf, riding towards me atop a white horse. She wore a golden crown and held herself with the composure of a snooty aristocrat. "The might of the entire world surrounds you!"
I rolled my eyes. Her self-important tone felt more annoying than the literal army behind her.
Other people galloped alongside her. A dragon, a dwarf, and a human. Each appeared to be the leader of their respective nations.
I made a graceful bow when they were within ear-shot and said:
"The entire world? How terrifying. Pray tell, what have I done to earn your ire?"
"You're a menace to our peace!" shouted the dwarvish king.
I arched an eyebrow.
The dwarf pursed his lips, cringing. "Respectfully, of course."
"Of course."
"Don't cower!" said the elvish queen, glaring at the dwarf. "We went over this!"
"He can incinerate everyone with a thought..."
"Y-yeah," said the human king. "We're here on a diplomatic mission. Let's not immediately antagonize him."
The elvish queen scoffed. "No, this man is a monster and deserves to be treated as such."
"Is this about the whole Demon King thing?" I asked, well aware of the answer.
"Yes," said the queen. "We can't tolerate your existence, knowing your past."
"Oh come on, that was over a thousand years ago. I was going through an edgelord phase. It happens, and I'm not exactly proud of it."
The queen scoffed.
"Our point is," said the dragon king, "that you've been allowed free reign in this land for far too long, playing our nations against each other to keep us busy. That won't happen anymore. We're finally unified. If you wish to keep living in peace, you'll have to pay tribute to us."
I laughed in their faces. "You want to tax me? That's it?"
"Yes!" they all said in unison.
"And what if I say no?"
"You'll be the enemy of the entire world" said the queen. "We shall siege your tower and wage war for as long as necessary. You were beaten once, and we shall do it again."
"An interesting proposition, yes. You're overlooking one detail, though."
"Which is?"
I narrowed my eyes. "That I'm stronger than before, by several magnitudes..."
All the rulers widened their eyes, growing stiff.
"...But war is annoying. I'm not interested in fighting all of you. How much gold do you want?"
The elvish queen squinted. "That's it? No catch?"
I shrugged. "I just want to drink my tea in peace. A siege at my doorstep would make it harder to acquire."
The rulers shared confused looks with each other. It appeared they weren't anticipating that answer.
"Well?" I asked. "Don't make me repeat myself. How much gold do you want?"
The rulers stayed quiet.
"Surely, you came with a figure in mind... right?"
The elvish queen drew her sword. "This is a trick! You won't fool us, monster!"
It didn't make any sense. I was giving into their demands and she was still looking for a fight. All of a sudden, everything fell into place. She wasn't looking for tribute. That was just the excuse. The real reason the elvish queen did all this was to legitimize her reign. With a common enemy, one that had been feared for a long time, she could justify building an army and order around the other rulers.
Refusing to play the role of a villain was something she wasn't expecting. She would lose her influence over the other nations if the forces she gathered weren't put to good use. It didn't look like the other rulers were aware of this, though. They were legitimately confused by her attitude.
"Okay," I started cracking my knuckles, "I see what's going on. If you want to go a few rounds, I'm more than willing to oblige."
"W-wait!" said the human king, stepping between me and the queen. "This isn't what we came here for!"
"Silence!" ordered the queen. "It's clear we have to wipe this threat off the face of the world. We can't rule absolutely with *him* lurking in the background."
"What if I give you all my blessing to rule the land?"
Everyone looked at me as if I had grown a tail.
"Think about it," I said, "I pay my taxes, you deliver my tea, and I bow before all of you to make everyone think you coerced me."
The elvish queen grit her teeth. "That's... not... good enough."
"Why?"
"Because..."
"You're still subservient to me? Yes, you are. If you wish to change that, instead of playing politics, pick up a book and learn to be a better mage than me."
The queen grew quiet.
"That's what I thought. I'm not about to turn into a scapegoat just because of your insecurities. Learn to be a better ruler. That should be more than enough."
The entire coalition left in a matter of hours. The elvish queen never seemed happy about the compromise, but the other rulers were just glad to be alive. She wasn't about to oppose them all for the sake of her ego.
And that's how I got a never-ending supply of my favorite tea without lifting a finger.
------
>If you enjoyed this, check out /r/WeirdEmoKidStories for more. Thanks for reading! | # Bargain Bin Superheroes
(Arc 6, Part 5: Archmagus LeFey v.s. The Sunrise King)
(Note: Bargain Bin Superheroes is episodic; each part is self-contained. This story can be enjoyed without reading the previous sections.)
**The last time the Sunrise King had cast a spell, he had raised a second sun over his kingdom.** The immortal mage had seemed content enough to sit on his laurels for a century or three after that, ruling over the Sunrise Kingdom and rolling in riches, the ever-burning second sun a reminder of his immortality and power. And if that was all he had done, perhaps the citizens he ruled over would have let him be.
But the Sunrise King had ambitions greater than lording over a single kingdom. He drained the wealth of his citizens, raised great armies to expand his kingdom, and on the eve of the day he was to send them out, some people had enough.
On the day the Sunrise King was to dawn over the world, three people stood in his way.
The Sunrise King wore a robe of darkest crimson, the eternal dawn that he had wrought shining like a halo above his head. Opposite him, resolutely glaring at the red-burning light, stood an old man, a woman, and a child.
"I have business to attend to," the Sunrise King finally said. "Move or be moved."
"We have grievances," the old man countered. "Grievances with the nation that you have built. We will not allow you to spread that rule across the globe."
The Sunrise King began walking forwards, as inevitable as the coming of dawn. "Make your case. You have until I reach you."
"*You killed my daughter,*" the woman suddenly hissed.
The old man turned to her, startled. "Junko, we agreed—"
"Screw negotiation, LeFey." Junko stormed towards the Sunrise King. "*You killed my daughter,* you callous freak."
The Sunrise King never slowed. "The light of the sun has turned forests into deserts—yet without it, the world would go dark. Casualties are inevitable in any competent rule."
"Competent?" Junko leapt at the Sunrise King—
Fast as the break of dawn, the Sunrise King caught her arm and hurled her back.
Luckily for her, Archmagus LeFey was already casting. "*Inertia Null,*" he snapped, letting Junko halt in mid-air. The Sunrise King kept walking—right up until LeFey held out a hand.
The Sunrise King tilted his head. "Archmagus," he said, a note of respect in his voice. "You cast well, for your age. But you are no match for the rising sun. I would hate to extinguish your craft from the world. Step aside."
Archmagus LeFey simply closed his eyes, then opened them again. "You have gone too far, Ikani." The Sunrise King raised an eyebrow as LeFey invoked a name he hadn't heard in years. So the rebel had done his research, at the very least. "I am sorry that it had to come to this."
"For every sunset, there is a sunrise," the Sunrise King agreed.
Then the two archmages met in light and fury.
"*Time Stop,*" Archmagus LeFey snapped. "*Astero's Atmospheric Barrier. Bubblebreath. Thousandfold Thoughts. Limited True Omniscience. Searing Heat. Barrier of—*"
"Did you think to stop time?" The archmagus *flinched* as the Sunrise King, unaffected, stepped *forwards* through the frozen world, through air that by all rights should have been as immovable as mountains, his red-billowing cloak impossibly still trailing behind him. "I am the *Sunrise King*. I move at the speed of dawn. You cannot slow light itself." The Sunrise King narrowed his eyes, realizing that the archmage was *still casting*. "Now *Burn*."
The single word rang with power—a basic spell, a simple wish, but one turbocharged with centuries of carefully hoarded mana. But LeFey had seen the spell coming even as the Sunrise King was still speaking, and a thousand tiny calculations played out in an instant. Negate it? No, it was impossible to fight against the Sunrise King power-for-power. Dodge it? Junko and the kid were still in the area—they'd get obliterated if he fled. Move the bystanders? He could, but it'd spend the few precious *Greater Teleport* spells he had prepared.
Move the attack?
Ah. There it was.
"*Spell Modification: Infinitesimal Casting. Greater Teleport, Destination: Nowhere.*" LeFey cast the two spells in quick succession—his inhumanly quick mind, boosted by the greatest magic he could conjure, targeted the motes of superheated gas as they arced towards him and yanked them out of existence, particle by particle. The Sunrise King wasn't standing still while LeFey was negating his opening strike, however.
"*Shine.*" Once more, the spell was simple. Once more, the spell was deadly. Sheer, pure radiance, moving at the speed of light, obliterated the first two layers of defense LeFey had set up and hammered away at the third. Even as his magics burned, LeFey quested out with his mind to sense his companions—luckily, the Sunrise King had chosen a focused beam, and none of it had struck them.
It was clear that LeFey was not a match for the Sunrise King on his own.
Fortunately, LeFey didn't have to be alone.
"*Spell Modification: Infinite Iteration. Perfect Matter Duplication.*" LeFey cast, targeting himself, and a geyser of LeFeys burst outwards, soaring into the sky, taking bystanders to safety—and firing every spell in the book at the Sunrise King.
"*Tsunami Strike.*"
"*Gale-Force Hurricane.*"
"*Volcanic Eruption.*"
"*Meteor Swarm.*"
Elemental devastation lashed out at the Sunrise King—water, wind, fire, earth—but they rippled through the Sunrise King like they were pebbles in a lake. The Sunrise King laughed.
"You seek to use the wrath of Earth on me? *I AM THE SUN. I AM BEYOND YOUR MORTAL WEAPONS.*" The Sunrise King began to levitate, and impossibly, the sun rose *with* him.
LeFey scowled. Then it was time. The greatest, most terrible spell he had ever known. The end of everything in fire and light. He held up a hand and spoke five words.
"*Wrath of a Trillion Stars.*"
Even the Sunrise King flinched as beams of starlight, astral radiance, unearthly, heavenly, pure, struck him from every angle, hot enough to melt stone into air and air into nothing, and LeFey watched grimly as the devastation reached a crescendo—
—and then winked out, like the first stars before dawn.
LeFey took a step back, horrified, as the Sunrise King wrestled with the stars—and *outshone* them. Because of course he would. That was what the sun did every day.
And he was the rising sun.
Licking his lips as if he'd just swallowed a full meal, the Sunrise King gave LeFey a satisfied look.
"Thank you for the challenge, young mage." The clones of LeFey desperately hurled all the mana they had left at the Sunrise King, but to no effect. "It has been an age and a half since I have had to exert myself so."
He settled down, landing on the blistered, vaporized ground, and dusted himself off, ignoring the spells still slinging his way. "But every dawn has a dusk. And I am afraid that you, too, must *Sunset.*"
LeFey's eyes widened as the spell sank into him, and though he fought it with every fiber of his being, it was as futile as lifting the stars. As his mind went dark and he lost consciousness, one thought still glimmered in his mind.
At least he'd saved his companions.
A.N.
"Bargain Bin Superheroes" is an episodic story where each part is inspired by a writing prompt that catches my eye. Check out [this post](https://www.reddit.com/r/bubblewriters/comments/mhzat1/bargin_bin_superheroes_masterpost/) for the rest of the story, and subscribe to r/bubblewriters for more. If you have any feedback, please leave it below. As always, I had fun writing this, and I hope you have a good day. | 2022-05-04T07:35:11 | 2022-05-04T06:33:46 | 425 | 136 |
[WP]Well, that's a pretty fucked up way to find out you are immortal. | It does not matter how many times it whispers to you, you are still afraid. Its hands are tucked into the stark white and egg cream of folded wings, as if this might alleviate some tension. It is impossible to perceive in whole, only in pieces. Shimmering gold tips and endless, brilliant, unblinking eyes, bordered by thick black ink and painted rogue. It is covered in soft colors and sharp lines, and your mind is doing something beyond fathom inside your head. You fall to your knees, desperate for absolution, face pressing into the searing skin of your folded forearms.
“Please rise. Do not prostrate yourself before me. I am but a messenger.”
It projects with a voice that rattles and soothes your head in tandem, and your body jerks upward in compliance. Thick clouds of cotton white cloud your vision. You briefly consider the modesty of angels. How does a formless being bow to their king?
“Listen carefully, young one. You will never grow old. You will live forever. You will see the approaching storm of Armageddon, and you will stand among the wreckage. You are a messenger, just as I am.”
You are rigid. Your trachea is a thick, solid piece of something. A rotted-out oak tree that no longer speaks, only echoes back what it is told in reverence. You finally manage a whimper, fingers sliding up to rest tentatively on the taut skin of your throat. It is okay to go slow. You have all the time in the world. | I sit in my desk chair, slumped over with a bottle of whiskey in my hand, held by the neck. I lift it up to take another swig, tasting the bitter ambrosia as it passes through my lips. It tastes terrible, but day after day my mind seeks refuge in its nasty tang. The way it clouds my perception is sweeter than the liquid, and usually keeps me sane. Today it serves a different purpose.
Today isn't particularly special compared to others. I'm drunk. I'm depressed. I'm no stranger to how I feel, but so much so that I'm sore in the head. I'm drunk on alcohol and nothingness, with a cloudy future and a meaningless past. All I can comprehend is the present, in which I'm a vegetable of the man I'm supposed to be.
Today, however, is slightly different. I've grown too tired, and in my groggy despair I had set a 357 Magnum on my desk right in front of me. It's loaded. After sitting in the filth which is my sweat-stained work uniform and pondering with my poisoned mind, I've got little left to hesitate picking the firearm up sluggishly with my left hand.
I sit there for just a moment, glossing over the handle of the Magnum with my thumb. As I graze over the cold metal and wood, I breathe lightly and shakily as I contemplate. I'd expect that such heavy thoughts would affect me more, but at this point I'm drunk and I'm sick and I hate breathing. The world is a cruel, cruel mistress, and this place wasn't built for me. None of it. Not my house, not my job, not my life. I exist to please those who don't care for me. I feel invigorated by the all-curing pill I grasp. I can escape. My one final way to stick it to the man. I'll soon be off to the real land of the free.
I feel angry at those that have led me to this dead end, but I feel triumph knowing I'll slave to this world no longer. I lift the bottle in my right hand one final time, taking my last swig of the sweet anesthetic. I slowly put the bottle back down on my desk so as to not drop or spill it once the deed has been done, but it's not like that matters to me. Once the glass of the bottle clanks onto the desk, I take a deep breath.
I raise the revolver to my head, pressing the cold barrel to the center of my brow. I close my tired eyes, pulling the lever on the gun back with my thumb. My index finger grazes the trigger. Tears well up in my eyes and roll down my cheeks. Oddly, they aren't tears of sadness. I crave the freedom I'll have in a couple moments.
I take a deep breath, then squeeze the trigger. A bang louder than anything I've ever heard rings through my ears as a blunt searing pain fills my head. My slow, drunk thoughts are quickly stung with panic. I scream louder than I thought I ever could. I pull the lever again quickly and shoot again, something I thought wouldn't be necessary. I'm met with the same pain, now twofold. I unload bullet after bullet into my throbbing brain, which has blood and other fluids pouring out all over me, my clothes, and the floor.
Not a single bullet does the trick, but clearly they all went through my skull and eviscerated my cerebral tissue. I fall out of my chair, writhing on the floor. My guttural roars of agony echo throughout my room, combined with the sharp ringing in my ears. My previous struggles are now of no importance to me, replaced by crucifying pain. After screaming myself to exhaustion, I pass out as I'm pleading to the universe that still plagues me:
Why? Why am I alive? | 2022-05-05T08:52:56 | 2022-05-05T08:33:18 | 23 | 11 |
[WP] You're a member of the Z-team. Your team is who they send in when teams A-Y have failed, but that's never happened before. But to everyone's horror, that day just came. | Everyone has heard of the B-team. A sign of indignation for many, it stands as a symbol of failure for most, that they are not good enough to be what the world relies on when in need. Likewise, the same thing can be said for the C team, then the D team. Eventually things go so bad a Z team is established. This is what the public is aware of.
But there is one truth that you must know. From the D team onwards, every other team is specialised to handle a separate kind of issue, savants to be exact. In fact, to even qualify for the other teams is an honour, as you possess a skill so specialised even the A team can’t beat you at it. E team specialises in alien threats, F team handles hard to defeat supervillains, G team specialises in killing defunct God Units. A team only goes out the most when it comes to reconnaissance, but are recognised the most since the other teams work discreetly. Indeed, such is the hierarchy for the teams established in the World Order Magistrate. A to D in general fields, with A at the top, to D below, and E-Y specialising in situations A team seems too specialised for a generalist team to deal with.
That’s right. E-Y.
What about Z you ask?
The Z Team……..is a team held by monsters. Gods wearing human skin. In any situation, no one ever wishes for…….them to come out. People who defy the laws of thermodynamics, people dragging souls out faster than any occult practitioner, people who aren’t….people. The Z Team goes by another name in the World Order Magistrate.
Azathoth. Sleeping agents meant to never ever wake up, never use their abilities. Banished to a life of normalcy, as those who know of their existence pray they never wake up.
Unfortunately, today is the day we have to wake up. The sky is gone, the sun has inverted. Something proclaiming itself the Great Old One has arrived, flipping the universal order on its head.
“Wah’gnaaal Fh’tagn, Gu’Nark’Luin!” It proclaims, its roar destroying buildings, flipping landscapes.
Here, we stand, our gaze resolute. With a flash of light, the being only shrieked, as tears started to rip into the air around us.
“We have awoken, this dream must end”
“This universe does not exist”
This universe does not exist
This universe does not exist | The city was dead. Buildings demolished long ago. Not even smoke remained. Only remnants of human civilization remained. A being of unimaginable power stood in the middle of it all. Standing in a pool of blood. It's insect like feet forever stained in red. It smiled wickedly as it licked it's lips. Corpses laid scattered like autumn leaves where it stood. One fallen skyscraper cast it's shadow on the land.
"I must say that was delightful." A monstrous and alien voice spoke to no one in particular while standing in the shadow. It just got done killing the last line of defense this world had. Or so it thought.
Slow steps echoed in the distance. The bright sky shining brightly. Not a cloud in sight. the sun slowly moved in it's set path. The shadow of the building moving slowly with it naturally.
For some reason. It was silent. Where are the animals? The bugs? It made the steps sound incredible loud as it grew closer. One step at a time.
"Oh? A survivor?" Its voice carried in the barren land of destruction. Four alien eyes squinted in delight at the prospect of spilling more blood of these lesser lifeforms.
Tap. Tap.
Tap tap.
Tap.
A human male covered in a black cloak that seemed to soak up the sun and black leather boots walked calmly into view until he stood in front of the monstrosity that killed every line of defense. Every team. From A to Y. Gone. Usually one of the teams are able to handle the situation. The mysterious team Z has never once been needed. Not once been called. Plenty of rumors floated around Team Z because of this. People wondered who or what team Z was. What people didn't know is that team Z is not a team at all. No, it's just one man. A man that was put through so many horrible experiments and evolutions that it's more accurate to refer to him as a god among men. The peak of human achievement and evolution laid bare. Never has humanity hit such a low point where they had to call in this man...until now.
When team Y died by this being, humanity wasn't afraid of the being that killed them. No, they were scared by the fact that the time finally came where they had to release him. Humanity was actually more frightened of it's own creation then the monstrosity that laughed while bringing humanity to it's knees. Because once he's released...there's no going back. He is unruly.
The mans cloak fluttered in the warm breeze as he looked at his shoes that was now drenched in blood of his own kind, glowing a ruby red as the sun now shined down on it. It had a morbid beauty as well as a deep sadness to it.
'Why didn't they send me sooner? All of this could have been avoided. Why is humanity so contradicting?' The man frowned as he cleared his mind of idle thoughts.
'These sacrifices...'
He looked up.
The man's inhuman silver eyes locked into the aliens four black demonic eyes. The alien monstrosity screamed confidence and lust for battle as it licked it's hideous lips ready to rip him limb from limb like a pray mantis does it's lover. It's two obsidian horns on its head resembled an elks horns. It's sharp demonic claws shined like a mirror as the man's calm silver eyes reflected off of them. It's armor resembled that of an insects exoskeleton. A disgusting inky black color.
'Won't be in vain.' A odd pressure released from the man sending ripples in the blood with him at the center. The alien eyes widened for a split second, caught off guard by the sudden release of Ki. It smiled widened to an inhuman degree as it showed it's ugly fangs in all it's splendor, ready for the battle ahead as the sun slowly rose over the building shedding light on the battlefield.
The man took on a mysterious stance.
"Tsk. Damn. You need a serious makeover..." The man mumbled to himself.
The alien tilted it's head.
"Are you mocking me?" The alien laughed at the ridiculousness.
The man stared indifferently as he increased the pressure. The ripples of the pool of blood around them grew stronger. The monstrosity stopped laughing and officially stared at him seriously.
" Well? Are you going to stand there all day?"
The man taunted before taking a single step.
'if he won't come to me...I'll go to him.'
The man's silver eyes glowed supernaturally as he made his move. It looked like he blinked out of existence and appeared suddenly Infront of the monstrosity. The fight for the fate of humanity has begun. | 2022-11-07T00:03:44 | 2022-11-06T23:24:49 | 108 | 26 |
[WP] Your Significant Other has landed a book publishing deal! You're very proud of them, even if you don't actually enjoy their writing. One day, on a whim, you buy an actual copy in a book store. It's nothing like the pages they gave you to read. Nothing. | He pleaded with me as I packed my suitcase. "It's doesn't mean anything. It's just fiction."
"Based heavily on your actual life," I spat, tossing several shirts into my luggage. "And you and I both know that's bullshit because if it was just fiction, you would've shown me the real pages you wrote. Instead of just stroking my ego to keep me quiet."
I'd been so proud of him when he'd gotten the book deal. I knew how many years he'd spent trying to make it as a writer, all the novels he'd left unfinished, all the rejection letters he'd got. I'd comforted him after every single one. Until finally an offer letter.
When I asked to read the book, he hesitated. It went over my head then, the way his eyes flooded with fear when I asked to read a couple pages. I just thought he was heady with champagne. He e-mailed them to me a few days later. Truthfully I was impressed but surprised the publishers had gone for it. His writing was beautiful, it always was. The characters were pulled straight from life. He might've changed a few names but clear as day I recognized his mother, his friends, his brothers. Even me. He'd included bits and pieces of our story, only the good parts which I was grateful for, even though deep down I felt it left the book without much conflict.
Little did I know, I'd only gotten the friends and family version.
"Did you really think, I wouldn't find out? That no one would find out?" I yelled. "That I am so easily appeased and illiterate that I wouldn't buy my own fiance's book?"
He sighed, ashamed. "I... didn't think it would matter."
I scoffed. "You didn't think it would matter that you tore me shreds in your book?"
"I changed the names!" he desperately reminded me. "It's not like anyone knows that it's you!"
"EVERYONE KNOWS THAT IT'S ME!" I roared. "WHO ELSE IS IT SUPPOSED TO BE?!"
I'd picked up a copy of the book yesterday, practically giddy when I saw it displayed front and center at our favorite bookstore. That giddiness turned to horror when I actually started reading it. He'd written about everything. Every single detail I shared with him in confidence. My parents, my depression, my mistakes... my assault. Raw and exaggerated, it was all out there for everyone to see.
And, see they did. Suddenly all the hushed whispers and side glances I'd been getting at work and from friends made sense.
He begged me to stay but I refused. I couldn't spend another night in the apartment, looking at his face. If I could've fit the last three years in the suitcase and taken it with me, I would've. I settled for a couple of outfits, some shoes and what was left of my dignity.
As I stood in the elevator waiting for it descend to the ground floor, I ruminated on all the times he'd kissed me on the forehead and called me his muse.
I used to think it was a compliment. | ‘We are closing this store and This is the only one that is left’ the elderly man said, adjusting his glasses with one hand, while whipping the dust off with the other. I was hesitant to buy that book. I love reading books, especially so when I travel. And I would be on a flight for the next 16 hours. Even that couldn’t convince me to buy this book.
I again asked him if he was sure that this was the one that is left and pleaded him to check the stock. He let out a slight whiff out his nose and said ‘No, this is what we have, everything else is sold out and people are not buying this at even half the price’.
Ouch that was painful to hear. I still didn’t wanna buy the book. Not that hated the book or the author. Quite the contrary, loved the author and was married to her. I’ve read the manuscript hundreds of time, when she was writing it.
I’d Helped proof read it and was proud of myself that I could point out some improvements in the book. Wife encouraged me and was amused at my findings like how you encourage and hype up kids doing some activity so that you can
keep them occupied. I didn’t care and was living it up.
It was supposed to be her life story or should I say ‘our life story’. The book is an autobiography and transcribes the story of how she went from an extremely introverted girl with braces and pigtails to the current ultra successful boss lady, leading a startup worth a couple billions.
Of course I had a role to play, with us being very much in love since college. She did include a chapter about us and how love encouraged her to be bold and daring.
Well with my flight out of this shit hole airport departing soon and only this store being the only one open, I had to but this book else have to make conversation with fellow passengers. Yuck.
I bought it in a hurry and thought I’d read it one more time and rekindle our college romance. We are very much in love but it’s quite not the same. You see marriage has this effect on couples, the spark slowly dies and you start taking things for granted. Reminiscing the old romance would do some good to the marriage.
I waited till the flight was in the air and has reached a stable height, to open the book. I sort a breezed through the first few chapters with them being quite the same, except for some rephrasing of sentences.
I wondered at the speed in which I’m skimming through, reading half from memory, I’d be done in an hour and had to sit idly for the remainder.
But, the fifth chapter had some interesting changes. It had a few more characters in college that I don’t seem to recall. We had the same friends groups, but don’t seem to remember anyone by the name of Julian Saw. Maybe one of her acquaintances or some random passer by who used to wave at her.
The character seemed to take more and more prominence in the latter chapters. ‘He taught me how to love myself’, ‘Being with him was like having a cold fire burning through my veins’. For some reason this chapter seemed to be more like a porno novel than something about inspirational leader.
When the reviews came out first, I was confused as a number of them were saying that ‘the only thing the author inspires you to do is to be incredulously and uncontrollably horny’. She said it was about our romantic angle that got criticism. I’d felt guilty for sometime, but hey it was her decision to include it.
Now I know what those reviewers really meant. I thought Saw was a figment of her imagination. But it got wilder, more and more characters got introduced and I recognised some of the names. Ian Haley. The Ian Haley, who was a prominent investor in her startup and her mentor. The way she’d written her having graphic sex with him made bike rise up my throat. He was more than Twice her age.
Oh boy, it didn’t stop there. There were others many many others. All having graphic sex with her during the years she was working hard in her startup. She’s started her company 5 years after we’d gotten married. That means all of this was her charting on me, atleast in her mind.
I was ducking pissed, wanted to confront her on these. But that’ll have to wait another 14 hours.
There was no mention of me or our college romance. The final chapter had a single mention of me. It ended on a “funny” note, saying that ‘my poor husband doesn’t know this and let’s keep it that way’.
I’d lost it and let out a loud whiff that’d woken up a few other passengers. The audacity to name me and shame me on her book. Took me for an idiot and playing me for all these years. I felt my world came crashing down.
I hurried through the baggage collection and went home with a rage in my face that should’ve gotten me arrested for looking like a homicidal maniac.
There she was composed as ever in her couch, with a co-worker who she mentioned was the longest of them all and whom she’d keep as a pet forever.
She came into the kitchen to hug me. I calmed myself, picked up the knife from the kitchen. I Hugged her | 2022-11-29T10:40:10 | 2022-11-29T10:37:03 | 710 | 114 |
[WP] You live in a universe that wasn't constructed that well and the physics are buggy and things occasionally just don't work right. | tion. This may have happened already,
but I wouldn't have known it, bec
ause it hasn't happened yet. Exc
ept in the timeline where it has. Recording lapses in time and space doesn't work, because there are lapses in timing and spacing.This is the thir
d time this week. I'm glad for the incident, if only because it will reveal how stupid my job is
for future prosperity. I might just show this log to any new recruits I'm handed. It's just, I get paid to do th
is work, and not easy work, and there is nothing I can show for it. Literally nothing, as in, no one c
an be shown it. They will perceive it, but time will just make it not shown. Then, time will make my job disappear, which will then be given to me once they remake the posi | Daydreaming was one of Johnathan's strongest talents, and on days such as this, frequently fell back on to escape Mr. Barnaby's incessant drone. It was the last week of sixth grade and all he could think about was the magnificent promise of the Summer ahead: all the sunny days and the carelessness and the county fair. He closed his eyes and imagined himself sitting on the beach with his feet in the sand and his hair blowing lightly and the air smelling like campfires. But it felt to real. He opened his eyes and he was there. A terrible dread began clawing inside of him. He had melded into a new universe.
It is a well known fact in the civilized world that if you If you daydream when the Quantum Interference Quotient is above 5% you are at risk for mind-reality entanglement. In essence, your brain can randomly get synched up with alternate realities and you can be transported to an entirely different version of you from one of the infinite universes. This of course was the result of the NASA Black Hole experiments of 2200, when Dr. Eavy Charlton accidentally broke the barrier between Universes throughout all time. NASA was reportedly extremely sorry for all the trouble this might have caused throughout space time. This was in many ways, a fortunate and unfortunate mishap. Some people reveled the fact that anyone can imagine strongly a perfect world and teleport to it. Many (especially the older folks) were afraid of leaving their old lives behind. In the weeks following the mishap, a lot of people took their own lives because they weren't sure if the others around them were the people they've know, or just copies left over from their melds to other universe. Many that were remaining just went off into their own separate perfect worlds.
Johnathan was rather sad. He had really liked the world he had. He built it meticulously out his memories of his first reality. It was hard to get right, he had forgotten amongst all the other realities he had transported himself to. He once was a prince and another time he was the son of a great knight. In one reality he was best friends with Peter Pan, and in another he was a genius. But after awhile he just wanted to go back to being regular old Johnathan.
He lasted almost a year without accidentally melding with another reality, but nowadays everyone does it from time to time. It wasn't so bad, you could always imagine the reality you came from and try to go back to it. But the reality you go into will never be the same as the one you left.
Oh well. Johnathan sighed. He tried to imagine the world he left. His mother, his father, the suburban home they lived in next to his best friend Sarah. He got really good at this by now and thought of every perfect detail.
He opened his eyes.
He was in class once again. Mrs. MacArthur was giving a rather entertaining reading of Johnathan's favorite book: To Kill a Mockingbird. He smiled and thought about the upcoming summer.
| 2014-06-13T18:58:15 | 2014-06-13T18:41:08 | 51 | 29 |
[WP] There's a law when you divorce, the children from the undone marriage get killed
So only children from lasting marriages remain. | "You do understand the law regarding divorce proceedings, don't you Sir?"
"I do, your honour."
"So you are aware that the termination of your marriage will result in the subsequent termination of 7 year old's life?"
"...Yes your honour"
"And you understand that there is no law preventing this course of action to take place once you've signed this form?"
"...Yes your honour"
"In which case, the only further service I can offer you as a judge of this court is a strong recommendation that you do not proceed with this."
"I understand your honour, your recommendation is noted."
The two men stood in silence, a look of helpless despair on the father's face as he looked over to his son in the stands.
"Thank you daddy" the boy croaked, his eyes filling with tears.
"I love you" The father whispered as the judge took the signed form away.
"I love you too daddy, I can't wait to see you again".
The boys eyes slowly closed as the doctor flicked the switch on his life support machine. | "Hey Joe, baby, come down stairs."
Oh shit, I know exactly what's going to happen. They've been arguing for months now. It's so obvious that they're not in love anymore. Normally, in other countries, I could survive. Being the only child between this odd couple. I could just be claimed by either one of them, and the other would pay child support. But no, where I live, I have to die. I've been trying as hard as I can to get them to love each other. But when you got a fat, disgusting excuse for a human being marrying a perfect 10/10 woman, it never works out; not even in those stupid sitcoms. There is no way I can escape either. Since there are cameras strewn about the house, (thanks government) the police can come and take me outside and shoot me dead. I just hate this, why couldn't have I been born with a perfect family.
"Look Joe, you know we love you. But you know this situation is never going to work out." My mother said.
"Yeah, we just can't figure it out. We hate each other more and more every day. I just don't think we can tolerate two more years of each other." My father said.
"Can I just say, for killing your only son. You two sound remarkably calm and collected. So what? You spend 16 years raising a son, and just two years before he can go out in the world, you say we give up. Excuse my language, but fuck you guys. All you do is fucking sit there and drink beer, then you have the nerve to throw a shoe at me when I get a B on my report card. Then we got miss "I'm a perfect mother" over here with her god awful cooking, bitchy attitude, and fucking dudes every night right in front of her husband's face. I always hated you two." I said.
My mom swallowed loudly, and said "Fine, if you got a death wish. I'll call them." She picked up the phone and asked for the separation police. She stood there for a few minutes in complete silence. I was waiting for the cops to come and plaster my brains all over the front lawn. She put the phone down however. She walked over and tears were streaming down her face. I looked over to my father to see him crying as well. My mom whispered to me "They're coming in a few. I-I love you so so much, but you know what has to be done."
A few minutes passed and the police came barging in. As I walked out, my parents were crying their eyes out. I was crying as well. This was it, I had no life for 16 years and I have no chance for one now. They told me to turn around and get on my knees. I saw my parents looking through the window. All I did was give them a nod. During my nod I heard a shot and there was parts of my brain against the window. I fell over and I saw the light. The last thing I saw was my mom running out and giving me a kiss like she did every night for 16 years. | 2014-06-15T03:43:39 | 2014-06-15T03:42:59 | 68 | 11 |
[WP] You hire a witch doctor to curse someone. However, the only curses you can afford are extremely petty. | Witch doctor, Witch doctor
I've got a request
i've read the reviews
they said you're the best
***
Witch doctor, Witch doctor
i'm short on cash
but i still need to make
a good backstab
***
Damn, Freddy
it was ugly
what ya did to me
truly
***
i swear
i'd have you 86'd
if i had the money (ha!)
***
but Witch doctor
if all you can do
is give him the flu
make him blue
cut his hair
make stoplight's unfair
wrinkle his sweater
clothes don't fit better
trip and fall
do it all
***
set his alarm 20 minutes late
make him nauseas when he already ate
***
make every line wait increase by 2
every grate he passes, make his money fall through
***
when he speeds, there's a cop on the street
double the fine when he starts to plead
***
every time he starts to doze off
his boss happens to walk in on
***
Witch doctor, Witch doctor
make it so
it's all i can afford
and he'll never know! | He took everything from me.
Fiddling the money, pulling funds into separate off shore accounts in only his name, in hindsight, I was a fool to trust him.
We'd been partners fresh from uni; him the rugby player with the business degree, me the computer science undergrad with ideas, we'd been like a two sides of a coin. Six apps in and the company was doing well, better than I'd hoped, but too late I realised my betrayal. Too late I realised I'd been used.
I stumbled around the country. I was never really sure what I was looking for, but my heart burned with a desire for vengeance as I slept rough, finding solace in the charity of strangers. I was broken, dejected and overcome by my obsession.
The turning point was a chance meeting at a shelter; she'd been raped when she was 15, and had never been the same. She'd found her revenge, though the cost had left it's mark on her eyes, on her body and soul alike. She told me of the older one, the lady with the smile that never quite reached the eyes. She told me how to call her, how to find my revenge, if I could pay the price.
I did my work in private, beneath a dark bridge next to water's edge, in some town lost in the countryside. I sacrificed my body, pressing blade to flesh as I spoke words through a voice dripping with doubt, the blood from my palm ran red, and vibrant, splashing on the ground beneath a moonless sky. I cried for help, and she heard me.
I stared into the water as she appeared in the reflection behind me, foggy and distant, like the memory of a childhood lost in time. She spoke to me then. She spoke about fear and vengeance, about her work, and about payment. She spoke about the things I could pay for, without losing myself along with it, petty things. Disease and heartache, scars and wounds, blemishes on his life, but a life that carried on regardless. Anything he could recover from was of no interest to me.
I had nothing big enough to offer her for what I wanted, no hope to sell or life to bequeath. My family were used up, estranged parents and lack of siblings, no girlfriend, or children of my own. Nothing to give, nothing to sacrifice, despite the marks it may have left around my eyes.
There can be no revenge, without forgiveness; no death, without life. I had but one possession worth the trade, one payment I could make.
I took the blade, and again pressed it to flesh. I felt it in that moment, as sure as I'd felt the sting of his betrayal; my flesh was his flesh, his life at that moment bonded to my own, two sides of the same coin. I felt him choke, *felt* him gasp in terror and shock, felt his heart beat with panic and in that moment know; know that I had come for him. He was terrified and he was dying, and my torment bled from me as I beat him, as I paid him back in kind for taking my life.
I slumped into the water then, blood pouring from my open neck beneath a moonless night. I closed my eyes and dreamed of another life, a life I would not lead, as I slipped into the face of a woman, wearing a smile that never quite met her eyes. | 2014-12-13T13:01:48 | 2014-12-13T12:44:58 | 23 | 15 |
[WP] On the day you turn 18 everyone is given the first words that their soulmate will speak to them. When you receive yours it says simply "Welcome to Starbucks. Can I take your order?" | "So I decided that I would only ever go into one Starbucks. That way, I know who it is," I finished. My best mate Mike nodded dubiously.
"That makes sense, I guess. It's a good thing you usually avoid the place. So how did you pick this one?"
"Random chance. I got a listing of local stores, closed my eyes and picked one."
He clapped me on the shoulder encouragingly, and I took a deep breath and pushed in through the door. My eyes instantly locked on the girl standing at the counter as I joined the queue. She was pretty... long dark hair, dark eyes, friendly looking. I couldn't help feeling a moment of disappointment, though... was this it? I'd expected, well, birds or something, a heavenly choir, the earth to move. Not just... nothing.
I joined the queue, heart pounding. In my confusion I was barely aware of one of the staff walking up, but I just raised my hand. "No thanks, I'm fine," I said distractedly, still staring at the girl behind the counter. After a moment I heard a mutter... it sounded like "Good thing I can put two and two together."
I blinked and turned to look into big blue eyes, shimmering golden hair. She smiled, and the world lit up around me.
"Welcome to Starbucks. Can I take your order?" she asked, and then held up a card. "That's what you were expecting, right?"
'No thanks, I'm fine' was printed in block letters on the card. I smiled back, shakily. "Ah, _there's_ the heavenly choir," I laughed, as her hand slid into mine. | “It’s hard to tell if it’s all the caffeine I drink or this life path I’ve been forced on which leads to my high blood pressure, exhaustion, and ragged willpower. You know, leading scientific minds have argued that one of the great variables in determining overall emotional stability is how much control you have in your life. They’ve proven it with rats, you see. A rat that in a cage where he knows that if he steps in the left corner, he will receive a shock, and if he steps in the right corner, he gets a treat has less cortisol levels than a rat who just gets random electric pulses scourging his neurons while sadistic scientists make it rain with peanuts.
It was hard to devise an ethical experiment on the human subject that was parallel to this theme, but ever since the EVRPHRASE corps came out with their certifiable love combatibility scrabble game, different phrases correlate to the overall well being of the individual.
Why am I playing this pseudo science game like I’m some sort of expert with the rats and the like? Answer: I got my phrase 26 years ago. “Welcome to Starbucks, may I take your order?”
My mother didn’t get it.
‘I’m so very happy for you! Grandkids! Grandkids!’
My father joined in: “Grand-KIDS, Grand-KIDS!!”
They later separated because Dad’s EVRphrase turned out to be Kimberly the receptionist’s “Is it okay if I fax my resume? I’m currently in Vancouver and can’t make the interview.” And not what my mom said: “HAH! Hey Cat! Come on, this is my favorite song, swing me around some?”
Admittedly, my phrase could be worse. It could’ve been “hi, whats your name?” or “Paper or Plastic?”. This EVRphrase gives me a secure location. Unless some fucking hipster joint is letting their cashiers take a lot of liberty with their ironic greetings. Believe me, I have thought out all the possibilities.
So, I’ve been exclusively dating baristas for 26 years. 26 years of smelling clothes wrenching of cocoa beans harvested from disappearing rainforests. 26 years of financial dependence. I don’t even mean to be a sugar momma, I’m a normal real estate worker, but god when they hit me with those starving collegiate broke ass eyes, I’m disgustingly a pushover.
Dating anyone else in any other profession just feels wrong. It’s tinged with inevitable defeat-which incidentally- smells a lot like insecurity and used Kleenex.
I mean I’ve taken measured steps to stave the discouragement. I’m in a support group. “Starbucks Lovers”. And yes, before you ask, ‘Blank Spaces’ by Taylor Swift is our anthem. Don’t you dare disparage me for that, that song is the sunshine in my life, ok?
All the boys and girls who are lucky enough to get the same EVRphrase meet in a convention hall every Monday. We divide into groups and scout different zonations of Starbucks inhabited streets. We come back and report our reapings.
“Hey Martha, I didn’t feel a spark, but maybe you should try your luck on Roger, closing shift, Magnolia Avenue.”
This is the life I lead. It’s not a quirky comedic romance. It’s tiresome, It’s caffeinated, and what really hurts is the hard truth that I’ve been working so hard to reach out to this “soul mate”, and I can’t help feeling that my efforts have been fruitless because he doesn’t have that same love starvation that has me making appointments to be at a Starbucks at Tuesday 8 pm sharp on Magnolia Avenue to meet Roger and ask him for ‘just tap water, wanna make out?’”
Martha gasped for air. Roger was sweating bullets, and his shirt collar suddenly felt too tight.
“I’ll get you that water then.” Roger sprang into the backroom.
| 2014-12-18T00:15:29 | 2014-12-17T21:39:09 | 141 | 52 |
[WP] On the day you turn 18 everyone is given the first words that their soulmate will speak to them. When you receive yours it says simply "Welcome to Starbucks. Can I take your order?" | It had been 7 years since I found out the words that my “true love” would say to me, and of course like everyone else I kept mine secret.
It was an unwritten rule about finding out our “lines” that we didn’t share them with one another, but I knew that the first words my true love would say to me would be “Welcome to Starbucks. Can I take your order?"
At first I thought this would be one of those things that I’ll happily stumble into one day in New York city and by chance I’ll find her, however time passes quickly and before I knew it 5 years had passed. I was ready to settle down but no matter which Starbucks I came into it was always a little off, “Welcome, what would you like?” or “What can I get you?” and eventually the idea of having a soul mate out there waiting for me didn’t bring me the same sense of ease it once did.
Before long I found myself getting bitter at the prospect of having to “wait” for the right one to say a stupid line. Where the fuck are my choices? Why don’t I get a say in what happens and when it happens. While all my friends were hearing those magical words all I became was more and more bitter at the miserable world, so much so that my “happy” friends stopped talking to me.
I knew It wasn’t right, I could see myself becoming a bigger asshole everyday but felt I could nothing about it, like watching a car crash in slow motion I was helpless.
Eventually they did all cut me out, and I was alone.
I started playing video games and I stopped going outside. I joined online chats and became mod of /r/nosoulmateyet on Reddit. I hated others that found their soul mates and wanted to ruin anything I could to prevent that.
There were others like me and I became fast friends with ASH1983 amongst other haters. ASH1983 hated the idea of the Soul Mate thing as well and we wrote to each other almost daily about how fucked up it was that everything had to be ‘pre-written’ and nothing was up to chance.
We ended up e-mailing each other every day and then multiple times a day. I knew nothing about them and I liked it that way – anonymous means we don’t have to worry about being “nice” we can just be honest. I’d say we became friends, actually I'd say we became closer than that. Eventually when I had nothing else and felt that I could trust them completely I told them about my "line."
After a long while they responded back, but they didn't share their line, only mentioned that mine was a "bum deal." I admit it hurt.
Shortly after that ‘she’ added me on Facebook, Ashley Johnson, she lived in the US thousands of miles away, boyfriend, dog, house…everything I didn’t have.
I felt cheated. I felt like I had opened my miserable dark soul to someone and they threw their beautiful life in my face. I felt like everything I knew about her was a lie. My blood boiled and I wanted her and her perfect life to end FOREVER. Through tears I found her number and dialed long distance.
A man picked up, “Hello?”
“I need to speak to Ashley.” I said through tears.
“Sure…” the man said hesitantly
After a brief moment and a small behind the phone chat I could hear breathing on the line. It sounded nervous and fragile.
I paced around my living room, phone to my ear waiting for her to say ANYTHING…..
But she didn’t.
I was heartbroken….she didn’t even have the decency to say hello first.
“You know what?” I said through gritted teeth. “Go fuck yourself.”
And I hung up.
That was two weeks ago.
I woke up this morning, 7 years to the day I found out my words and decided that I wouldn’t be heading out to Starbucks again, maybe ever so I made and poured myself a coffee.
Just then my doorbell rang.
I opened the door and standing there was Ashley suitcase in one hand and umbrella in the other. She smiled at me and said, "Welcome to Starbucks. Can I take your order?"
I dropped my coffee and stood there slack jawed.
“You think you had it bad?” she asked jokingly, “imagine if you had ‘you know what? go fuck yourself’ as your soulmates first words.”
| "I want a coffee" she said grabbing my hand into her mitten and pulling me towards the Starbucks across the street. The green sign was almost lost in the flurry of snow that was making it impossible for me to dig in my heels forcing me to stumble as she slipped me off the curb and in between the park cars. My free hand shot out to help right myself and in a moment of pure panic tried to grab onto the slick icy window landing too late on a wiper that was uncemonarly ripped out of my grasp. She yanked me out onto the road, looking back and even behind the bright red scarf she had pulled up to cover her face I could see her smiling at my assumed clumsiness.
I'd brought her that scarf about this time last year from a little christmas market we'd chosen for our third date, it was when I said my words to her that the scarf was the "perfect red to match your eyes". It was a joke about how we'd spent most of the day getting drunk at a flat pack bar with sharp plastic chairs and a patio heater to blast away the cold and alcohol to blast away my nerves.
She had decided to proved she could drink me under the table and it was a challenge I was grateful to lose as it gave me enough courage to take her hand and lead us out into snow and on drunken market adventure. When it had started to snow I offered to buy her a scarf and made a drunken joke about how drunk we were. It seemed to stop her dead, turned her into ice sculpture that so still and untypically fragile that I wanted to look right through her afraid even my gaze would shatter whatever that moment was and then it was all movement and flashes of fairy lights and I found she was kissing me.
It took a while to come back from being lost in that moment and it was only later when the scarf I had brought her was the last thing she was left wearing that I understood what had happened and how I was going to break her heart.
We are halfway across the street before I can find the wits to say "We can't go in there" I knew it was a weak protest before it had even left my lips, it was hardly going to phase her but fear was building up inside my skull, a pressure crushing other thought.
"What?" She shot back as she turned her head to give me those wonderfully incredulous eyes "You are really going to make to trapes half across town 'cus you prefer Costa?" when I stammer but say nothing she gives a curt and knowing nod and pulls me on across the street.
It's snowing quicker now and for a moment I can hardly see anything, just my hand stretched out in front of me being held by someone I can't see.
The words are not something we talk about, we don't question them, we don't share them we don't even really think about them after the initial excitement of the 18th birthday.They come and then at some point in your life they will act to banish doubt and let you know you've found your soulmate. The Providence it's called when it called anything at all and I have come to hate mine which I sware feels like a sin even when Providence has never felt like God to me.
She has been waiting a year to speak mine, for me to tell her that we can get engage and have the life we both desperately want but it hasn't happened and I don't know if it ever will because she hates the idea of being a barista.
Welcome to Starbucks can I take your order... I remember waking up with them burning in my ears and they surprised me, I'd always presumed the words are meant to be unique, specific, not so general but I had little to compare them to. Still being young and naive and having a crush on a girl I knew from college who was working at a Starbucks in town I'd simply rushed out to test them only to be greeted with;
"Hiya, what can I get you?"
From then on every time in any shop with any person some variations but never the truth. That young summer had left me with little but a taste for their coffee and the understanding that the words are not something you force. They are what they are for when they are meant and I became happy enough to forget about them until last year in that market holding that scarf.
A few meters from the door my fear boils over into frustration and anger and I bark out "Stop, just stop!" and she does like she is ice again frozen in reaction to the tone of my voice. "I can't go in there, I won't because I..." my throat tightened. If my hate for my words was a sin what I was about do was blasphemy. We do not talk about the words.
"You're afraid you'll hear your words?" words as still and cold as the rest of her but hot with meaning and then suddenly again it was all movement but instead of fairly light and kisses it was tears and a fury "No, no fucking way do you get taken away for the sake of some stupid fucking words" her hands pounded against my chest and I staggered backwards slipping up against the glass front of the store trying to stop us falling and failing into a tangled heap slump under the Starbucks logo.
We sat there for a while snow building up around us "I never needed to hear you say them to know that I loved you..." she said softly now "Do you really need to hear them too?" she was tense against me, resisting the pull of my arms around her.
"No? I don't know? How can I live my life knowing I love you but waiting for the universe to turn around and punch me in the face for it." I said, lost to decency. "If I'm not meant to be with you I could be keeping you from the person you are meant to be with. Is that being in love or is that being selfish?"
"Can't it be both?" She asked but I knew she understood as what strings had been holding her so taught went slack collapsing into me. It felt like defeat as we sat in the silence and snow getting strange looks from the few passers by that were braving the street. Eventually she looked up at me and spoke "How stupid are your words anyway? To make you afraid to step into a damn coffee shop? I mean how dumb would Providence have to be to pin finding your soulmate on some shit like 'Welcome to Starbucks can I take your order'?" she gave a forced laughed and rubbed away the tears that had built up in the corners of her eyes as I burst out into a real one turning my head upwards towards the falling snow.
| 2014-12-18T09:54:46 | 2014-12-18T04:52:43 | 45 | 13 |
[WP] Your whole life you had an ability that seemed normal to you. Now you realized you're the only one with this ability. | The human lie detector. That's what they call me. I've always skirted around what I do in interviews as frankly I didn't understand. Micro-expressions, nervous tics, word usage. These are the things I used to distract. I never realized the truth, not until my 100th case at the precinct. Number one crime solver, internationally recognized, Time magazine's man of the year. I helped put away rapists, murders, serial killers. Sometimes there was no evidence, I would ask leading questions like if the body was in a forest. From there the truth would be apparent from their lies. Sometimes we didn't find the evidence, but that was alright. They always confessed. I thought that being able to tell when people were lying was my ability, my place in the world. But I want you to think this through. If someone can tell if your lying, how do you not incriminate yourself? Don't talk. Everyone knew about me yet they couldn't resist talking to me. And that's when I realized I had put away countless innocent people. I was the liar, but everyone couldn't help but believe me. | “Quick! Quick!” I urgently ushered her inside and closed the door. Knowing how nosy my neighbours were, the over-the-fence conversations with my parents would quickly turn to the fact that Suzy was sneaking in while they were out for the night.
Mum probably wouldn’t care but Dad would. Suz’s Dad definitely would. As soon as the door was closed, I grabbed her hand tightly. We ran upstairs together and fell carelessly but purposefully onto my bed.
“Hey, gorgeous.” Her smile beamed at me. I loved how playful she was. Her smile spoke to me and today it said she was hiding something.
“I’ve got a surprise for you. Close your eyes and cover your ears”. I didn’t even click at this stage. I just heard things the other way around. Of course she’d meant to say cover my eyes and close my ears, right? So I did. I put my hands over my eyes and closed my ears.
I waited. I got impatient pretty quickly.
“Can I open my eyes yet? Suz?”
I expected her to tap me on the shoulder. Nothing.
“OK, I’m going to open them!” I figured if she didn’t want me to she would stop me. She’d hold her hands over mine or hide whatever this surprise was.
I opened my ears and took my hands from my eyes.
She was just sitting on the bed staring at me.
“Come on, Adam, stop being silly. Put your fingers in your ears as well.”
“What, why would I want to do that?”
“Because I don’t want you to even hear what I’m doing, let alone SEE.”
“Yeah, my ears were closed. I couldn’t hear a thing.”
She shook her head, confused.
‘You can’t close your ears, silly!”
“What do you mean? Of course you can.”
“No… you can’t. No one can.”
I thought for a second. It clicked. It finally clicked. All those times I’d seen people covering their ears on TV. All those times I’d seen people shaking water from their ears once they got out of the pool. All those cartoons when they stuck their fingers in their ears before an explosion.
She must’ve seen my face drop.
“You can seriously close your ears, can’t you? Oh my, God!”
I jumped to my feet.
“Oh my God, oh my GOD! EAR PLUGS! That’s what ear plugs are for! People can’t close their ears! How did I not click before now?” I wasn’t frightened, I wasn’t worried, I was just plain bewildered. How did I get to fifteen years old and not realise this?
“You’re such a freak!” she smiled playfully at me and poked me in the ribs.
“Hey, I just assumed everyone could.” She giggled again. It was strange. This was such a moment of realisation for me yet I figured I could think about it later. None of this mattered. I looked at her. She couldn’t care less that I might be a bit different. I eased up, sat down again and smiled back at her, shrugging my shoulders.
“Time for that surprise.” She moved slowly, placing her hands each side of me. Not taking her eyes off mine as she slid herself on top of me and her lips ever closer to mine.
“Kiss me, freak. And don’t you dare close your ears.”
| 2015-01-08T14:41:51 | 2015-01-08T14:04:50 | 80 | 38 |
[WP] You are the captain of a starship, only a few hours before the last star in existence dies and the universe goes cold.
Inspired by my answer to another prompt about running out of time. | We'd known that the stars were going out for generations. Our best and brightest had cobbled together a sleeper ship so that humanity could live beyond our universe's demise. A ship which could breech the walls of our cradle and allow us to find a new home.
I'm the 44th Commander of the Gaia. All I know of what's come before are the journals left by my predecessors. Each was in command for decades. Decades alone on a sterile ship filled with the cryogenically frozen remnants of humanity. Each ended their own life in despair, having realized the horrible truth; only to be replaced by a new commander, freshly awoken from their cryogenic stasis.
Ours was the last universe. All the others had been long dead by the time we got there. The Gaia has shifted between a dozen dozen dozen universes during my tenure as commander. All of them barren and cold.
Almost as cold as the barrel of my service pistol felt, pressed against my temple. | The ship is calmer than she expected it would be, given the circumstances. Even so close to the end - the end of their lives, the end of humanity, the end of all hope of a future - her crew stayed dutifully at their stations. Duty trumped fear, perhaps.
As the captain walked through, she noticed crewmen with the ship's display set to the last remaining known star in the universe, eyes reflecting its dull intensity, like mirrors to their own waning wills.
A crushing despair swept through her, forcing her to stop, doubling over a bit with the pain. A nearby crewman watched her, unmoving, before remarking, "A few hours left until it burns out, Captain. Any orders?" She didn't know why he asked. No order would save them or ease their pain. Nothing in the universe remained- no humanity, no life, all planets a gray husk hovering over gray stars, slowly being sucked into black holes a million miles away.
Suddenly, she sat up. "Sir?" the crewman asked, standing more to attention. The captain ignored him, walking to the bridge. Her officers stood to attention as she walked in, but she did not tell them at ease, heading straight to the ship's main console. She silently entered coordinates, and the ship obeyed its commander. The officers looked confused, but resigned, as the ship started to move.
The display showed the dimly lit star, moving ever closer. The bridge crew shifted, seeming to move to retaliatory action, but then remembering their fate. Nobody moved. Nobody spoke.
"All efforts to restart stars have failed. We are all that remains in this universe. To what end? We have learned so much about the world... but..." she paused, gripping the console in front of her, "for a futile end. There is no greater purpose. Nothing lies beyond what we've charted. No alien life, no alternative worlds, nothing. Nothing!"
She quivered, hands shaking, eyes wide. For a moment, the room seemed to grow large, desolate in its silence. Stumbling, almost tripping over herself in great effort, the captain turned to face her officers.
Her voice almost whispered now. "We all thought humanity could never fail. That we would live on, forever. That we would find some small hope that we would not be forgotten. There is no hope."
With sudden energy, she swiveled back to face the star, its earlier dimness now blazing, their proximity so close.
"So we die the way we came into this world. With a bang."
The bridge crew didn't respond, only looked to the screen, clinging to it desperately to avoid the deep sorrow that was surfacing. Light, so much light, so dazzling that it seemed to be alive. Shapes of things danced across their visions, shapes of things they had once held dear in life: loved ones long lost, homes gone cold, places they had imagined existed somewhere in the universe. Glorious places, filled with sunlight, stars bursting with energy in the far distance, the surroundings filled with luminous color. Such luminous color ...
Then, unceremoniously, the ship collides with the star. A momentary flash of beautiful light of all spectra, then darkness.
Just darkness.
| 2015-01-17T10:25:25 | 2015-01-17T09:28:24 | 154 | 14 |
[WP] You are the captain of a starship, only a few hours before the last star in existence dies and the universe goes cold.
Inspired by my answer to another prompt about running out of time. | We'd known that the stars were going out for generations. Our best and brightest had cobbled together a sleeper ship so that humanity could live beyond our universe's demise. A ship which could breech the walls of our cradle and allow us to find a new home.
I'm the 44th Commander of the Gaia. All I know of what's come before are the journals left by my predecessors. Each was in command for decades. Decades alone on a sterile ship filled with the cryogenically frozen remnants of humanity. Each ended their own life in despair, having realized the horrible truth; only to be replaced by a new commander, freshly awoken from their cryogenic stasis.
Ours was the last universe. All the others had been long dead by the time we got there. The Gaia has shifted between a dozen dozen dozen universes during my tenure as commander. All of them barren and cold.
Almost as cold as the barrel of my service pistol felt, pressed against my temple. | Where there is light, there is hope.
The Odyssey cruised through the vast nothingness of space, with the Commander looking straight ahead. The scientists have long predicted this, but could not prevent it.
"Look into the sky. Do you see those stars? Around every star is an opportunity for life." Dalton suddenly remembered his father telling him. He was around 6 or 7 then. He followed as his father traced constellations in the sky, pointing out the largest and the smallest stars visible to the human eye. "That's Sirius. Bright, isn't it? If you ever get lost, look for Sirius and it'll point you the right way." Dalton looked at the starmap as his father talked to him, pointing out the most extraordinary sights.
Fast forward a few years, Dalton was accepted to the Air Force where he excelled at piloting the jets. He was enjoying life until one day, a mysterious letter arrived from NASA. "Dear Mr. Dalton. We would be pleased to have you join our Academy. Should you accept this offer, please contact us through the official email system." Three sentences were all that was needed to entice him to join.
But it was only until he had become a Commander when he was let on to a terrible secret. He remembered when he was about to command his first spaceship when is mentor came in and told him the secret. A deep, dark, troubling secret.
"Heat death seems imminent in the next few decades or so." Dalton was taken aback.
"What do you mean? There are many stars in the sky! That's enough entropy to last a few billion- no, a few trillion years!"
"The stars you see in the sky is but a projection. This had been coming for more than a hundred years, but we could do nothing about it."
"And you're going to leave all those people in the dark about this? You're going to let them die without them ever knowing why?"
"If we told them," his mentor sighed after a short pause, "all hell would break loose. Anarchy. Mass-scale destruction. You can think of the consequences."
Dalton paused before continuing, "so why are you telling me now?"
"You're going to be piloting the last spaceship. You're going to be sent to space for one last time. You're going to outlive all the rest of us, long after even Earth itself has annihilated."
Dalton was suddenly warped back to the present. The spaceship sailed through the infinite darkness of the surroundings towards the last dying light, an old star, an old friend of his.
"Sirius," Dalton breathed as he watched the last few hours of the star as it went through the cycle of breaking down from its state of being a black dwarf, to nothing.
There was no more light, and there was no more hope. Dalton manned his one-man ship towards where the star one was, and left it at that. And soon, he went to a deep sleep in a peaceful form of cryostasis, hoping that one day someone would save him from this nightmare.
The spaceship rushed through the empty ocean as the last piece of anomaly in its otherwise perfectly homogeneous universe was neutralised.
*****
Please leave a comment. I like comments. | 2015-01-17T10:25:25 | 2015-01-17T09:30:42 | 154 | 12 |
[WP] A father gets sucked into the world of his son's favorite video game and has to rely on his meager knowledge of it to survive. | *Mission begins in 30 seconds.*
Where the hell am I?
I look down. In my hands is some kind of rifle.
I approach the nearest person. He's an enormous man dressed in all red wielding a huge minigun.
"Excuse me, mate, where are we?"
I do a double take. I just sounded so Australian I even threw "mate" in my sentence without realizing.
"Ve are here to crush tiny blue babies," comes the reply in the thickest Russian accent I've ever heard.
Tiny...blue babies? What kind of dream is this?
I try the next man. He's a person of average size but stocky build, also dressed in red. There's a helmet pulled over his face so low I can barely see his mouth, and he holds an RPG. Grenades line his belt.
"Can you tell me what all this is, mate?"
I did it again. Mate. I'm not an Aussie! I'm a dad of two from the suburbs of Chicago!
Before the man can reply, the voice I heard at the beginning returns.
*Five...four...three...two...one!*
There's been a gate in front of us this whole time, and on the "one" it lifts. I'm lost in the stampede to get out.
This is gonna be a long day.
| My son recently started playing Minecraft and though I didn’t understand the game, I made an effort to learn the basics so we could play together. He showed me how to make some tools, what they were used for, and how to smelt metals. I thought it was all pretty simple, but I decided to take it upon myself to learn a little more outside of our playing time together. I coughed up the twenty-something dollars for the download and launched the game. Grass, trees, ocean, sand, and snow surrounded my character as he was dropped into an entirely new and unique world. Gathering wood was the first step to starting out; I knew that much. I punched trees, made a wood pickaxe, and then proceeded to gather cobblestone. The sun approached the horizon and I realized I had no safe place to go. My son had always gone to his house and busied himself with things when the sun went down. I had no house, and barely had the essential tools for the game. Calling it quits for the night, I went to close the game, but couldn’t find the top right corner of the window on my screen. I looked on my keyboard for the escape button and it hit me: I have no keyboard. I have no mouse. I was holding a wooden pickaxe in my hand, I mean physically holding the thing, and I could look down and see my feet. I dropped the pick and rubbed my eyes hard. When I opened them nothing had changed. I had never taken acid in my life, but I could only imagine this was what a hippie would call a bad trip. It was turning dark and I heard a familiar groan. This time it wasn’t on the other side of a wall. I panicked and ran for a cave, thinking it might be safe; quickly finding that I guessed wrong, my mind became level and accepted its reality. Whatever was out there I would have to face. Jogging out of the cave, I threw down a workbench and slapped together a stone sword. A green monster with blue pants and shirt emerged from between two oaks and lumbered toward me. I swung the sword, knocking the creature back. It continued to pursue slowly but steadily. I swung and connected thrice more and it disappeared, leaving a nasty smelling pile of crud floating just above the grass. There was no time to think as another goon came for me. Four more swings brought the thing down and again I smelled that god-awful stench. *zzzzzZZZIIIP!* Was that an arrow that flew by? I thought to myself. *zzzzzZIP-THUCK!* That one connected and pain seared up my spine. Adrenaline took hold and I turned to face the arrows’ source. I hid behind trees as I dodged projectiles and approached my assailant, not noticing the even greater threat walking up to me. *BOOM!* I felt agonizing pain as I was blown back by the explosion and then nothing. I awoke quickly in a patch of grass. Analyzing my surroundings, I found I was in the same spot I had started the game in. I was not in pain, I was not hungry, and I had nothing on my person but my clothing. The sun poked its head above the distant ocean. I had been stuck in this increasingly hellish scene for nearly twenty-four hours. Multiple groans and foreign clinks came from all directions. Fires raged and then died out. I was utterly confused and mentally exhausted. I had to figure out how to get out of this place.
 
This is my first time posting here so please forgive me for formatting errors. | 2015-05-08T04:22:30 | 2015-05-08T03:26:05 | 16 | 10 |
[WP] You are a Rule 34 Enforcement Officer. Your agency's sworn duty: If it exists, there's porn of it. No exceptions. | "I told you, the God damn donkey is the sad one! That's why he can't get it up! Did you even read the script? Its the tiger that's supposed to have the dick like a spring board! Why the hell would you take viagra before hand!" I shout. I had put so much work into this. And then these idiots came unprepared.
The guy in the sad donkey suit drops his head and readjusts his head. I hear him mumble something and walk off.
"Fuck," I say, at the end of my rope, "now he gets into character. Can someone go cheer him up? You! The pig. Go after him, bring him back."
I turn around and see a big bear walk in. My mood brightens. Finally, someone who looks the character. Someone worthy of my genius!
"Someone bring in the honey! And bring in Christopher! It's time to shoot this masterpiece! You, do you remember your lines?" I ask.
The bear looks right at me and smiles.
"Oh bother," he says, "I've got a rumbly in my tummy."
EDIT: This is hands down the most disturbing thing I have ever written. | I awoke as a I normally did, 610 hundred hours on a dreary Tuesday. Pulling myself from my warm bed and happy thoughts I started the routine of getting myself ready for the day.
Honestly I'm no longer aware of the first part of my day. After I kick the covers off and stand up I don't remember anything other than the first swallow of bad coffee. Brushing my teeth, showering, getting dressed....all of those things you do day-to-day I no longer notice. Half the time I don't even remember the commute to the office. We all do what we have to do to wipe whatever we can from our memories to keep living. I'm Agent number 562990 of Office 34. Famously we are known of the keepers of "Rule 34". "Rule 34" of the internet, if you are new here, is that if something exists then there MUST be a porn of it.
It may sound glamous, nothing but Jessica Rabbit and January Jones mock ups for your masterbation pleasures, but unfortunately it's nothing like that. You see, someone will eventually make a porn of those things. That's not what we police. We do the things that belong in /r/spacedicks and /r/WTF. Things that people only want to see on a dare. 2 Girls One Cup? Yea, that was us. [Agony in Pink](http://www.asstr.org/files/Collections/Old_Joe%27s_Collection/Serials/Agony%20in%20Pink%20-%20Special%20Edition.txt)? That earned Agent 5534 their retirement. The worse part is that we don't even know who other agents are. We simply make sure "Rule 34" is upheld and then stew in our own insanity of the things we created.
You might ask why we do these things. Apparently some eggheads that works at one of those 3 letter agencies crunched the numbers and figured out that our "reality" is indeed a computer sim of some other higher being. When we created the internet, we had to follow the preprogramed rules that they set forth. Otherwise it would be tantamount to figuring out how to divide by zero or some shit. What do I know though? I'm just a grunt cashing a paycheck at the end of the week.
I blink and I'm swiping my key card and walking through the building. Mirrored glass is everywhere. It's important that we don't make contact with one another or know who works with us. Just a safety measure to help us keep our sanity by compartmentalizing the insanity that is put out there. I find my room, thumbprint my way into, and sit at my terminal. Taking a deep breath I turn on the computer and try to mentally prepare myself for the day. I don't know if I'm going to create a story, image, or gif. I just know I have to create a porn using nothing but the words that pop on the screen after I log in. The screen comes on and the words are displayed...
"VORE PORN FEATURING TESS MUNSTER AND THE 'GOT IIIMMMMM' GUY" | 2015-06-14T20:36:59 | 2015-06-14T20:17:27 | 52 | 13 |
[WP] You and your spouse are fairly typical demonic overlords with a figurative/literal dark fortress, minions to command etc. The problem is your teenage child who's going through that rebellious phase; claiming that they're good, dressing in all whites and only listening to gentle hymns. | As Nergal crawled underneath his vermillion satin sheets and snuggled up to his wife Naamah, he sighed and breathed Naamah's scent in. It smelled like ash and wine.
"Naamah?" Nergal whispered in her ear.
"Yes, dear?"
"Where did we go wrong with Simeon? Why does he hate us?"
Naamah shifted in the sheets and was met with Nergal's worried and disconcerted face.
"Well... I think that if he does hate us, we sort of did our job, right?" she offered.
Nergal was not in any mood for Naamah's sly comments. After 20 years of marriage, her succubus tricks had lost their luster.
"That's not what I meant and you know it. He should hate us, but as a demon, not... whatever he is. Why does he want to fight us like this?"
Naamah took Nergal's face in her palms and stared him dead in the eye.
"It's just a phase that he's going through. Being a demon isn't always a pleasure. You know that. Remember when that priest threw you out of that little girl's body and you landed inside of a squirrel? Then you panicked and got run over by that SUV full of Mormons? You said you would never do anymore possessions after that one."
Nergal's face flushed as the memory came back to him. He had done his best to try to forget it, but demons are still punished from time to time and his wife made sure that he always got his dosage of torture.
"That was different. I mean... he's trying to get rid of his heritage. He doesn't want any part in our ways. He doesn't go to the orgies or sacrifices or anything anymore. He wants to be called Gabriel or Adrian or-"
"Christian," Naamah interjected.
"Right... or Christian. I just don't understand him. He wears those flashy white clothes when he's around us, he dyed his hair blonde, he listens to that hymnal bullshit. And after we tried so hard to raise him on good, wholesome music like Behemoth, Burzum, and fucking Slayer for Christ's sake!"
Naamah sat up in shock. "Listen. I don't care how mad you are. You don't use that kind of language around me!"
Nergal angrily shot up and his eyes began to burn fiery red. "I'll use whatever language I god damn feel like."
Naamah scoffed and quickly turned away from him. "I thought you wanted to talk. Now it seems like you're just venting on me and I don't appreciate it. If you don't want to talk anymore, you can just spend the night with the tortured souls in the cellar."
Nergal closed his eyes and began centering himself. Being angry at Naamah wasn't going to fix the situation. He sighed and lied back down.
"I'm sorry Naamah. I didn't mean to blow up at you; I'm just stressed is all. Lucifer has me working on some big projects. The presidential election is coming up and we're trying to keep tabs on the Republican race because those guys are just a little too evil for us to use properly. I-It's just... really hard."
Naamah turned around once again and tenderly smiled at him. She had a lovely smile. No wonder she was top brass in the succubus circle.
"I know it's tough baby, but we just have to keep pushing through. He'll come around. I promise. It's not like he's ascended into Heaven or anything."
Nergal kissed her forehead gently leaving a little burn mark.
"Okay, I believe you. Do you think we should pull him out of St. Mary's though? Maybe that's what's causing the problem."
"Well... I didn't want to tell you this, but I've heard him talking in his room sometimes at night and... I think he might have a girlfriend."
Nergal's expression darkened. This was more serious than he thought. It wasn't unexpected that Simeon would have a girlfriend around this age, but the implication that she was influencing *him*? It was beyond comprehension. Nergal stammered as he tried to think of a solution. Naamah, being the level headed demon spawn that she was, quickly reassured him.
"Listen, I know it's weird to think about, but I have a plan in the works. We just got this new girl in the department that I might send into St. Mary's with explicit instructions to tempt everyone, especially a little blonde boy that goes by the name of Christian. If everything goes according to plan, we might be able to get him back on our side. We might be able to get Simeon back."
Nergal was unsure to say the least, but his wife knew what she was doing most of the time. He had no choice but to trust her.
"Okay. Let's do it then. I really hope this plan of yours works."
"Nergal, have any of my plans ever failed?"
"Well, there was that one time that you tried to get Ted Haggard to cheat with you, but it turned out he was gay and he fell from grace anyway so you didn't get that promotion, but Damien did because he posed as a gay man-"
Naamah scowled and cut him off.
"Alright, I'm going to bed. You can just watch TV or something. I don't give a shit. Good night."
Nergal smiled to himself. He could dish out his fair share of torture too. He grabbed the remote and pressed the "on" button which sent 2000 volts through the emaciated body of the sleeping man sitting beside the bed. He screamed in pain as he ran to turn on the TV. Nergal flipped through the channels until he found something on History Channel about the Book of Revelation. While the outcome of the Book was debatable among angels and demons, the events detailed inside it always comforted Nergal. Tonight, he could have sweet dreams.
*First, I just want to say that this is my first attempt at a writing prompt, so I'm a bit nervous. I'm looking forward to criticism though. Also, this is the first time I've written something with mostly dialogue so I'm hoping things look and sound right. Anyway, I really enjoyed this prompt and reading some of the other submissions. Good suggestion! Enjoy!* | *I sighed as I watched my dream-self walk towards the white door at the end of the hallway. As always, the door refused to get closer. He began running and then sprinting towards the end of the corridor, I chuckled at his stubbornness. Finally coming to terms with the futility of his efforts, he swallowed his pride and turned his back to the door… I hated this part.*
*Trapped, choking, wet; I must be drowning. I concentrated hard in an attempt to maintain mindfulness but it was no use. The lucid awareness that I had so easily floated upon just moments before began to fade. The nightmare came alive.*
*I lashed out violently in random directions; with flailing limbs I battled the thick liquid. A whispering sanity urged me to calm down, reminding me that I would have a higher chance of survival if I kept composure. With levels of Zen that rivaled an immolated monk I found my center, only to then surrender control to the dying animal upon realizing that even my sober mind didn’t know which way was up.*
*Consciousness became fragmented; I inhaled deeply. My lungs burned as the viscous liquid flooded in.*
~
I snapped awake, gagging on air. The nightmare had made me sweat so much that it felt like I’d pissed myself. The view framed by my third story window was of a grey sky and heavy rain- It was going to be a wet day in hell.
The rain made it extra hard to get out of bed. My fear of punishment eventually trumped my slothfulness; I groaned in reflexive protest as I forced myself upright. I looked towards my mirror and locked eyes with rejection. Rejection looked like an undersized goat-boy covered in coarse black fur; I looked more like a sheep than a proper imp. I used a hand mirror to inspect the top of my head for any signs of my long-awaited horns. Nothing. At almost 19 years old, the fact that I still had no horns was a constant source of shame, a splinter of inferiority.
My underwhelming stature was magnified by my prestigious bloodline, I came from a long tradition of highly regarded arch-fiends. Between the formidable physiques of my DNA-givers it seemed that my very existence was an argument against the theory of evolution, which is totally shitty for me considering that the idea of creationism is blasphemy where I’m from. My father for example had been born with his horns (not to mention normal red scales…) while his trophy wife, my mother mind you, had been Miss November on the Sexy Succubus calendar back in ‘93. Along with a few dozen siblings who had all been blessed with levels of badassery to properly represent the family legacy, we all lived together in a fancy-shmancy gated community on the west side of the seventh circle.
I continued with my morning routine by carrying out a few standard acts of hygiene that would serve to appease certain expected societal standards and uphold the wobbly façade that I was a well-adapted member of the demonic legion. I brushed my tooth and scrubbed my wiry black hair with righteous vigor before throwing on some hand-me-down designer clothing and heading downstairs for breakfast.
The kitchen looked like feeding time in a piranha tank. Over half of my siblings moshed the center of the room, pushing and shoving each other in an attempt to seize the raw meats that were falling from the air. My mother stood at the far end of the room all dolled up with a suburbia-smile glued to her face; she wielded a large knife and was using it to cleave the appendages off of a live lamb which she then hurled towards the feeding frenzy. The ceramic floor’s tiling pattern suddenly became very interesting as I scooted along rooms perimeter towards to fridge. I quickly packed my lunch bag and slipped out the front door unnoticed.
I walked through the rain slowly. Though the acidic precipitation made my fur extra coarse, I refused to be hurried. I loved my morning hike to School. It was the only time I was both safely following orders and got to be alone. The patter of raindrops faded in and out with my breathing as my hooves sloshed through puddles. Grey clouds of various hues hung low in the sky and were in constant flux. A brisk wind sent a shiver down my spine. Everything was alive.
After the short walk I found myself standing nervously outside the front door of my high school. I reached for the door handle but hesitated. Taking a moment to collect myself, I closed my eyes and said a quick prayer before pushing my way inside. I instantly immersed myself into the flow of bodies that saturated the crowded hallway whilst carefully avoiding any eye contact. So far so good. My chameleon tactics seemed to be super effective. A smile began to form at the corners of my mouth.
“There he is!” Daemon shouted.
I cursed myself for breaking character. Instinct forced me into a sprint though logic had already accepted the inevitable. Daemon quickly overcame my stubby retreat with his long strides and shoved me into a locker as his posse closed in around me.
“Looks like somebody doesn’t know what an umbrella is,” one of the goons said.
“Yeah,” Daemon sneered, “He’s even wetter than his milf mom was last night.” Everyone laughed. Without missing a beat, Daemon snatched my lunch-bag and turned it upside down. A baggie of carrots and celery fell to the ground. He punched me hard in the stomach and I surrendered to gravity, smashing my head against the cobblestone floor. More laughter, this time accompanied by the parsletongued mocking of a passing teacher.
“Next time have some real food and we might be nice and go back to wedgies,” Daemon said casually as he turned and walked away, leaving me cradled in a fetal position and gasping through sharp shallow breaths. My head was throbbing and my stomach felt like it had collapsed on itself. The final bell rang and the last lingering hallway inhabitants filtered into their respective classrooms.
I laid there in bitter defeat, feeling pathetic. My shame soon birthed anger and I found myself struggling to quell the rising hatred. Dormant feelings of not belonging surged to the surface and collided with my beating heart. My breathing was becoming erratic, I reached for my inhaler but it wasn’t there. Thinking quickly, I dug into my backpack and emerged with my private poetry notebook. I poured myself onto it:
*“Mood-ring Messiah, quietly licking the cosmic canvas, I am, infamous Space-time boomerang maverick with a dragon-king funny bone; forced to battle constantly for the purity of my dream-scape; It seems that there is no day off for a hero… This is my dream catcher agenda: build a Ouija board and use it to shit talk Lucifer until he gives me my horns and then use them to carve my fantasies into the family heirlooms of my enemies, I would rather rewrite genesis with a highlighter than allow the dispersion of the omega factors, This is the dawning of a world breaker and the age of bottled lightning, ascend now to the throne of thy Fath-”*
The tip of my pencil snapped. Damn-it, I had been on a roll.
I slowly rose to my feet and waddled over to my morning class with a slight stagger. I was awarded afternoon detention upon arriving late; I accepted the punishment with indifference. I plopped down in an oversized desk in the back row and tuned out my professor’s lecture the best I could, something about Miley Cyrus and her innovative methods for accumulating acolytes. The class seemed to stretch on endlessly
The rest of the day was uneventful. I spent the evening serving out my detention and by the time I was released the sun had already set. I enjoyed my walk home the best I could before quietly sneaking upstairs to my room. My head was haunted by a prodding thorn and I hadn’t eaten all day due to my concaved stomach but I was so exhausted that none of it mattered. I buried my face in my pillow and surrendered to the dreadful apparitions.
~
*I watched myself walk towards the white door at the end of the hallway. It didn’t take my dream-self long to realize the impossible nature of his doomed pilgrimage this time. He turned his back towards the door. Here we go…*
*Burning, engulfed, melting; I must be on fire. It felt as if I was trapped inside of Satan’s sun. Lucidness faded as the nightmare came alive.*
*I was on fire. My fur was quickly immolated, leaving my naked flesh exposed to the flames lick. Agony. A new plateau of pain. The exceptional misery reached deep as my lungs failed to vocalize my torment. I burned in silence.* | 2015-12-08T11:09:52 | 2015-12-08T10:16:55 | 14 | 10 |
[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. | From the personal journal of Astro-chronicler Des Variin.
Humans. Reviled, worshiped, misunderstood, underestimated. I first encountered these curious beings some 100 standard years ago, and have yet to fully understand all that makes them so damndibly different from all the other galactic races.
They follow the celestial standard, being bipedal with large brains and being more or less symmetrical, and possessing an organized community. Humans are curious, nearly to a fault, much like the All'tarr. They desire to understand the hows and whys of nearly everything they encounter that is different from their normal. Sometimes this backfires, but usually makes for exceptional leaps in technological advancement far in excess of their time past First Star Exploration (an anthropoligically understood time standard). They are as advanced technologically, at FSE 125, as other species are at FSE's upwards of 400.
Humans have, comparatively, short lives but fast reproductive cycles. This has several effects on their psyche, I theorize. Their relative fast reproductive rate makes the loss of individuals easier to deal with, so their curious nature that at times gets them into trouble is buffered.
They are, however, aware of their mortality, and so tend to be some of the more pacifistic beings in the galaxy. Fearing the loss of Human lives, and by extension the lives of others. They live passionately, love completely, and trust unconditionally. Usually. Their short lives means that often times, they live in the moment, but this more often than not means they respect life more than other long lived races that sometimes take their incredibly long lives for granted. They have been known to broker deals between warring parties and fostering fledgling races when they are found, instead of pacifying them with violence.
Yet, to consider the humans to be pure pacifists, as the Aldarri, would be a heinous mistake. Their relatively difficult evolution has carefully honed even the most average Human into an organism capable of enduring and inflicting great violence.
For the average Galactic Citizen, when struck in the abdomen with a blaster bolt unprotected, the shock to the neuro system is so severe that death is three to six seconds away. Humans have been known to survive for as long as eighty minutes, fighting with lethal ability for the first fourteen.
They are rational and compassionate, but in a stressful situation, a strange evolutionary mechanism manifests, called the fight or flight condition. Humans possess a gland, that in times of extreme stress, excretes a combat drug. This drug dulls pain, slows blood loss, and allows for extreme physical performance. Last year, a settler on Innova-G lifted a 1000 Kg shipping container that had fallen onto her child at their farmstead and rescued the child.
They also have been noted to have an impressive ability to continue to fight after taking damage. Fighters in their combat sports often continue to mount effective defenses even after taking devastating strikes to their brain cases. Other fighters have been observed allowing an opponent to dislocate joints rather than forfeit the fight, often continuing to fight until the official stops the match. There are countless images in the medical files of humans impaled with objects that would have killed 87% of Galactic Council Species.
In Standard Calendar 8327, the Vall discovered the extreme of the Human's fighting capacity when they launched an offensive against 60% of the Human held worlds. The Humans were only known to the Galactic Councel for 12 Standard years, and thought by all to be pacifists, because of the several successful treaties they brokered in their earliest years. The Vall wanted the heavy metals known to exist in the Human home solar system's asteroid belt and launched a campaign despite several rounds of negotiations. Ultimately, this was felt by the humans as a direct attack against the Human Home world, and Humans as a whole.
Today, there is no Vall Home world, and only 20% of the Vall continue to exist. The Humans have a saying where they "Make an Example" of someone. The Vall is that someone. The Vall are currently the Human's most fervent allies. they learned the hard way about the human's darker side.
The Humans are known as the best friend you could have, and the worst enemy. The Vall have seen both. I have been blessed to only have been their friend.
edited a word or two so far.
Also: wow, this took off. Thanks for the kind words and taking time to read this. | He took a long draw of the smoke stick, a human delicacy, though how humans savored smoke at all I'll never know.
his feline features narrowed as he looked out the window to the rain pelting the glass, a few bolts of lightning striking the skyscrapers in the distant gloom.
"Let me tell you a story boy." he began, my third eye, always unconscious and outside of my control, narrowed where my two primary eyes remained impassive.
I didn't like being so addressed.
"long ago, on terra 5, during the thringa invasion.."
"the silent nightmare you mean." I interrupted, and he shook his head, giving a dry chuckle as he adjusted his lavender robes.
His name was pell, andro pell and he was one of the warriors who'd been dumb enough to try to attack the humans head on.
andro survived the attack, as did many others, yet here he was, no sacred war veteran but a living gravestone of sorts, a memorial that spoke only legends and myths of that deadly race.
the light in his busted kitchen was out, and the counters were strewn with strange cookware i didn't know, back in the palace we might have had such equivalents, but i was unsure.
"we landed, began recon and prepped the field, the usual routine. but then....the meteors..."
"Meteors containing abyss." i reasoned, recalling reports of the incident.
"we thought they were weak. we knew they had war tools, but we didn't quite fathom the sheer unnecessary extremes they'd go to just to....to..."
andro shook his head, his cat's ears folding against his head in agitation.
"stupid...the meteors were summoned with gates that had been hidden by the darkness just outside of the planet. we saw them, our equipment detected them but we thought the things were harmless debris....i mean- they were just rings! welp, the meteors strike, the abyss spreads all over our intended battlefield, then.....shit goes south."
"what happened? the few thringa who spoke of it-"
"didn't." andro finished, rubbing out the cigarette.
"abyss is a curious element, condensed time-space, it opens a plane that overlaps our own. the humans knew that and had planned to use such space-time tears to deal with us. horrors crawled forth from these smoke clouds, scales, teeth, fangs, shit i don't think has a sane description. our men fired, but to no avail, none of us were ready for abyssal creatures. but the humans had found ways to weaponize the things, turning abyss meteors into a sort of twisted scorched earth tactic."
"did you even fight humans?" i asked, leaning forward, my tendrils waving in agitation.
"Yep. hundreds of em. after the tears mended, which took a few minutes, we were already in shock, the abyss creatures basically faded back into their plane, the smoke cleared and suddenly there was an army of hundreds surrounding our army of...what? one hundred? the goddamned abyss fiends...they took more of us than we were anticipating."
"so they used shock tactics...." i mused.
"no. no they didn't stop there." he explained. "right afterward they gave the ultimatum, surrender or die. some of us were too pissed to listen, so we ran after em, shooting and roaring...and dying. I saw one of my men torn in half by bunan chaingun rounds. we were so outmatched, so fucking outmatched and outnumbered. while we'd been struggling against the abyss fiends, they'd been surrounding the fight with overwhelming numbers. by then, my troupe had no choice but to surrender."
"any torture?" I asked.
"None. I heard they had a particularly nasty method involving a single drop of water, we weren't really questioned, just held, then returned. i heard that no less than nineteen platoons suffered a similar fate, one managed to survive long enough to put up a fight, but they were all cut down. humans.....strange creatures, equal parts force and peace."
"if i'm to send my armies to conquer them-"
He placed a hand on mine, a look of concern clouding his features, it took all my strength not to tear my hand away from the disdainful furred thing, but i swallowed my pride.
"say, what know you of dragons?" he asked at length.
"a human myth right?" i asked, curious now.
"a fitting one." he said. "dragons, in human culture, are powerful forces of nature, primal lizards that breathe fire, speak, do all sorts of crazy nonsense. most dragons in their lore have a strange habit of holding their power back for the sake of the world around them....they prefer peace, despite being literal calamities."
"and you think humans are this dangerous?" I asked incredulously.
andro gave me a look i don't believe i'd ever forget, sincere terror from a thringa was not something native to them, it was an emotion they rarely displayed, and for warriors the emotion was strictly forbidden. fear would get you killed, court marshalled or worse. yet here he was, on the cusp of dread.
all for humans.
"Your majesty, i tell you this now, these humans.....we only saw a fraction of their strength that day, barely a roar, barely a breath. we saw them flex one muscle to scare us down, crushing the few that dared to continue the fight. you actually think that all they have are those meteor gates? no, i tell you this now humans are powerful. better that they remain peaceful. better that you not bother with your plans. i know you're invested, but if you go to their worlds, a hell the likes of which you've never seen awaits you."
I left andro's residence very much at odds with my own desires. on the one hand he WAS just speaking fearful nonsense, war monuments, much like the elders had claimed.
but this time it was different, what andro told me spoke far less than what he hadn't told me.
with a sigh of resignation i decided it would be in my best interests to continue my quiet investigation, perhaps temporarily ingratiate our empire with theirs in the interests of assessing the threat more seriously before determining our best course of action.
i stroked the tendrils around my mouth thoughtfully as i considered how many backers of war i'd been made to incite already, and what, if any options I could enlist to ensure that should we decide to forgo such an invasion, the backers wouldn't cause me any trouble.
I wasn't emperor, not yet, and father demanded i conquer a few galaxies before he deemed me worthy of the throne.
but this one might prove more of a chore than anticipated.
perhaps worse.
time would tell. | 2016-03-13T14:25:47 | 2016-03-13T11:15:41 | 1,823 | 84 |
[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. | "Well Fifth , we have a hard time figuring these guys out ."
Fifth swivels its primary sensory orifices to face Thirty Second "What is so difficult about them that I had to be brought out of stasis?".
"Well they are a primitive species , and we can tell by their transmissions that they seem to want a peaceful meeting." Fifth interrupts "A species capable a generating gravity waves is hardly primitive."
"Well Fifth , thats the thing , they aren't transmitting with gravity waves."
"Then how are we ...."
"They are beaming modulated radio waves at us ...fortunately the shielding held up and we suffered only minor damage."
"They attacked us?"
"Uh no....it seems that they consider radio waves to be harmless....so when we realized that that the pulses were modulated we hooked the modulation decoder to the shielding alarm and presto ... we could hear what they were saying ,they have a simple communication matrix , it only took the translator analogues a few moments to decipher.
"So how are we talking to them if they cant detect gravity waves?"
"I modified our main gun to modulate its frequency the same way and fired it a full power at their capital."
"Oh dear Goddess ...how did they respond?"
"They asked us to turn up the power......."
"... Thats a class seven weapon and they asked to be hit harder?"
"They wanted to know if their signal was strong enough to be heard clearly, I told them under no circumstances were they to increase power....they are already transmitting at a class 9 level, only thing that saved us is that it has a wide spread."
Fifths superior cognitive skills immediately realized that if radio transmitter was used as a communication system a wide spread would be a good thing.
"I see why you woke me....a species immune to radio waves is quite disturbing."
"Thats not why I asked for you , we've been communicating long enough to learn some more and the latest communication .....it scares the goddess out of me."
"What was it"
"We asked them how they were able to survive on a planet with a strong magnetic field......"
"How strong is it ?"
"Approximately 2,000 times higher than a class 20 magnetic bomb."
"Thats....incredible, so how do they do it"
"They didnt understand the question."
Once again Fifths cognitive skills reached the obvious conclusion , Thirty Second hadn't asked for him to decipher the situation ... Thirty Second just needed someone with enough authority to cancel the mission.
"Engage cloak and lets get the hell out of here."
No wonder the last 5 missions to this system failed to return....blown to fine dust by the aliens "communication systems'.
And then ....Fifth had an revelation.
"Thirty Second, have we ever discovered life in an iron rich system before?"
"No Fifth , we havent , I guess this ones going in the history scrolls."
"Thirty Second, you are to erase all record of this mission and bring First , Second and Third out of stasis."
Thirty Second was taken aback, the idea of waking the Goddess herself for a mission that was to be forgotten ?!
And then with a sly smug vibration along his crest Fifth told Thirty Second why.
"They are primitive , that means we have things they desperately need."
"So?"
"These Humans can shorten the war by a thousand years."
| Humans had always been respected in the intergalactic society. Not for our scientific breakthroughs, we were actually the last of space capable species to achieve intergalactic travel. We're not respected for our love of things that are beautiful, or creative. No, we're respected for our resolve. Over the last several hundred earth years, there has been great upheaval in our galaxy. The place that Humanity called home was under threat by a species that sought to colonize every planet they deemed worthy.
They came in droves of hundreds of thousands. The human colony on Kepler was the first to be struck by the Beltids. Kepler is a small colony, smaller now than it was. One day was a regular day for the colonists, the farms were being tended, the factories were producing farm equipment. 24 earth hours later, Kepler city was besieged by hundreds of thousands - nay, millions of these demons. They swarmed the farms, killing and destroying everything in their way.
When earth heard over the Interplanetary Communication Line (ICI) that Kepler was under threat, the human mobile militia rallied to the cause. Humanity had enjoyed 700 years of peace, and only a thousand militiamen flocked to the banners. But the United Human Navy brought this handful of brave men and women to the front lines, with enough ammunition for 10 million of these creatures. By the end, the navy brought in another 2 supply drops for the militia. By the end of the Kepler campaign, 16 million, three hundred and 76 thousand, 743 Beltids were killed.
The campaign lasted 3 earth years. From the time that the Beltids set up in the Kepler system, to the time that the militia and the navy forced them out of the system. Then, it was time for humanity to go on the offensive. In those three years, humanity made decades of military progress. We had a cause to rally around. Millions of men and women enlisted. The navy was expanded over a thousand times it's pre war strength. Armies long since disbanded were rallied. Humanity had a united cause, protection of our very way of life.
And so we fought. We waged war for a generation. It was good for humanity, to see galactic warfare. The advances in that time were wondrous. The cost was great, but we soon found out that we were not alone in the fight against the Beltids. We were in a system some 400 light years from earth. Our advance scouts had marked it as a breeding colony for the beltids. They were wrong, it was a prison. When the navy dropped out hyperspeed, they found life forms very different from the Beltids.
They found an ally. The prisoners we found out called themselves the Anzu. They were a peaceful society, dedicated to science and the preservation of life. The Beltids had made quick work of their colonies. They had never fought a war in their recorded history. They hadn't developed a proper melee weapon, let alone the advanced plasma rifles that the 17th Kepler brigade were using. When we realized what it was, we liberated the Anzu. The Anzu were confined to their lone planet, protected with a shield that didn't let the Beltids through.
So we went to Anzu prime, blasted the hundred million or so Beltids into pieces. And so began a friendship the Anzu. We taught them how to fight, and they taught us everything they knew of science. We learned a lot, and took advantage of it right away in the war. We found out that the Anzu were not the only intelligent species fighting the Beltids. They told us of a great many species fighting for their very survival.
So began an eon long confederation. United against a common foe, the Human Alliance and the Anzu began the Galactic Federation. An alliance of life forms, united against all that would seek to destroy us. We fought side by side for another 60 earth years, without hardly a single casualty thanks to the Anzu. We liberated system after system. The Anzu and the other species had been fighting the Beltids long before humanity had even discovered fire. They knew where each other were in the Galaxy.
We finally drove the Beltids from our Galaxy. The Galactic Federation had 37 intelligent species. Peace had finally settled in our Galaxy.Then, suddenly the war was over. A treaty was signed between the Beltids and the Galactic Federation. They were to never return. And like that, all 157 million members of the Human Armed Forces disbanded, and went back to their homes. The fleets were mothballed.
But Humanity now knew Galactic warfare. We had liberated 36 species from the Tyranny of the Beltids. We knew that the Beltids would not be the only threat to life, so even though the soldiers went home, humanity was ever vigilant. Looking for a threat, for we would prefer not to fight, but if our way of life was threatened, or those of an ally in the Federation, we would rally, like we did all those years ago. And this is where we stand today!
We stand at the precipice of another Galactic war! I stand before you in front of the Galactic Congress to beg to issue a formal declaration of war against the Anzu, who have invaded the human colony of Kepler! Humanity will not back down from a fight! Even if the fight is against our longest standing ally! We will not surrender, no matter the cost! Our homes are under threat, but soon, the Anzu will now the wrath of Humanity! | 2016-03-13T19:37:26 | 2016-03-13T17:44:09 | 59 | 20 |
[WP] Two immortals meet and fall in love. Neither of them are aware of the other's immortality and the years are flying by... | My heart fluttered when she walked past. And not a simple flutter, the kind that catches in your throat. This was a punctual beat, three significant strokes like an ellipses.
My eyes traced her blonde locks, and she turned to quickly glance. Her mischievous green eyes lit up from beneath her beanie rim. I found myself moving, following. And although her back was turned as she trudged through the station, I could feel the smile upon her lips.
She sat on a black metal bench. The crowd had dissapated to just her and I.
"You can't give me that look and not introduce yourself." I sat down next to her.
She giggled, a little. "I'm Celeste. And you are?"
"The man of your dreams."
She frowned. I smiled. She smirked. We laughed. And three years later we kissed, this time married in love.
Next came children, Dylan, Maggie, Blaze, Flur and Sven. I say this with a heavy heart, but we outlived them all. Ma. . . Maggie passed away last week. They saved the sweetest angel for last.
Lying down, I looked into my darlings eyes. We're one hundred and ninety two, both Celeste and I. We've decided it's time to do this, once and for all.
"Are you ready?" She asked.
"I was ready the moment I first saw you." I rubbed my thumb against her soft cheek.
Celeste downed the vial of black liquid and then I drank mine.
We couldn't wait to see our children again.
| "Say, Miria."
"What's up Isaac?"
"Technology sure is an incredible thing."
"Something about it on your mind?"
"Why yes Miria. See, technology develops at an extraordinary rate, and only gets more and more complex by the era. Wouldn't believe some of the latest innovations we've seen go obsolete on us before we can afford them."
"You could say that again. Phones are looking nicer by the day, even if they do drive apart the family ecosystem. Oh it's tragic Isaac!"
"It certainly is, and did we not do our part by robbing that phone center of all their latest models the week before to preserve family values in this country?"
"What a noble thing we did!"
"Most certainly my dear. And that *same* center now has phones you can tap on the screen to issue commands!"
"I think someone called it a smart phone."
"Hmm, they don't look so smart to me, if phones are still driving children and parents from each other. The nerve of those smart phones! That's the thing though Miria. We're having a harder time catching up with those developments to keep up with our various quests."
"Oh I see Isaac. I think I know what you mean."
"How so Miria?"
"Well, there was something I read from a magazine I stole. About how technology in our daily lives grows at such a rapid rate, that average people no longer question where those technologies come from. So people would rather upgrade than ask questions."
"Yes, YES, that is EXACTLY what I am talking about! We alone are the observant defenders of righteousness, the noble thieves that protect families, children and discount hot dogs alike!"
"And taking away all the unhappiness these rapid developments are inflicting!"
"Giving people reasons to *be* happy!"
"And keep up with the world as best we can!"
"OH MIRIA!"
"ISAAC!"
"COME TO MY ARMS!"
"How I love you Isaac!"
"Yes Miria, we will continue this mission of ours for as long as it takes! But say, that reminds me."
"Of what Isaac?"
"We should go and grab some dinner soon."
"When was the last time we ate?"
"I can't recall, but see, only amateurs keep track of time to eat at regular intervals. *We* are master thieves for the public good! Only when we are hungry should we take time out of our mission to refuel ourselves!"
"Wow Isaac, and we're definitely masters with how long we've been doing this!"
"Quite a while now, hasn't it?"
"Is that something we should be keeping track of time on?"
"Oh, uh, of course not! Only our glorious purpose, having each other, and that lovely little restaurant on the corner of 3rd and Smith is enough!"
"But Little Dizzy's closed Isaac."
"Is that so?"
"Yes. Can't remember how long ago it was, but you were so upset when they were no longer around."
"Hmm. Yet how *could* I remember?"
"Remember what Isaac?"
"Exactly! Our crusade is all that matters!"
"Oh right, I almost forgot!"
"Speaking of the crusade, we'll need to get some more finances to continue our noble mission."
"Yes, we have been running pretty low."
"Then that settles it. There's only one way to steal enough money to do so."
"Steal from the mafia?"
"Exactly my dear. We steal from the mafia."
"Where can we find them these days?"
"I can't remember. Lets go look for them."
-------------------------
*Based on the series [Baccano](http://myanimelist.net/anime/2251/Baccano). More at r/galokot, and thanks for reading!*
| 2016-04-27T23:23:40 | 2016-04-27T21:20:00 | 132 | 80 |
[WP] You were born with a large birthmark in the shape of a dragon. However, this is just a coincidence; there is absolutely nothing magical about it, and you're getting really tired of explaining this. | "Does it give you visions?"
"No."
"I mean, weird dreams, stuff like that?"
"No more than eating cheese late at night."
"Bu-"
"Actually, probably even less than the cheese. The one I had after the quattro formaggi on Saturday was pretty wild."
"Was it about dragons?!"
"...no."
"But it's shaped like-"
"I know what it's shaped *like!* It's just a dark blob of a birthmark. It could look like a lot of different things."
"It *is* a dragon, though. Look, it's even got little wings."
"Quit it about the shape. Please."
"OK. Sorry, if I made you uncomfortable."
"Its fine, really. I should be used to it by this stage. Can we move on?"
"Sure, sure. Next question."
"Thanks."
"Um, what woul- wait, does it ever, like, throb or get painful?
"What?"
"Like, maybe during times you're stressed or something?"
"N-"
"Ooh, or else maybe it heats up?"
"No!"
"...does it get itchy at least?"
"....."
"Ooook, no more birthmark questions. Let's change it up. Do you have any questions for me, Mr...Azugtooth?"
"Azgrathoth."
"Yes, yes. My apologies. Any questions, Mr Azgratot?"
"If I get the job, should I expect any more questions about my birthmark?"
"Would it be an issue for you?"
"Yes, very much so."
"Then I am afraid to say that the Wizards of the Coast marketing department may not be the kind of work environment you're looking for, Mr Azatoot." | "IT'S NOT MAGICAL!!!" I yelled for what seemed like the Nth time today. You know how it is in the movies. A kid is born with a birthmark in the EXACT shape of a dragon, and he can all of a sudden do karate and kung fu and shit. Not me, though. I'm just your average middle class white trash kid from Louisiana. I can't do anything that requires anything of a martial arts background. I go to school, I eat, shit, and sleep like anyone else. I'm just a normal guy.
Okay, enough about what I am. Let me tell you a story. It's like a lot of my other stories, except this one happened recently and was a little twisted to be honest.
I had just gotten out of bed in the morning, went across the hall to the kitchen, made breakfast, and sat down in front of the tv to watch whatever dumb kid show my little sister so happened to be watching.
As soon as I finish my cereal there is a knock on the door. It was odd since this kind of crap usually happens right when I get off work, but my parents were in bed still and it was a Saturday.
I answer the door, and two oriental martial artists are standing there. That'd be odd to some people, but not for me. Same type of people, but always different people. I usually tell them to kindly 'eff off and make sure to tell anyone else not to come by.
Only today, when I finished my shooing, the two men came back about five minutes later. This time, they were a little strong with me. They told me that their master had a mark of the dragon, and that I was some descendant of this man. This is the weird part for me. I'm not any part asian. I'm as white as they come. I have blonde hair for crissakes!
Anyways, they wanted me to come with them. I figured I'd go with them just to figure out what they're yammering about. Nobody had ever come back to try again, which was the only thing that let me allow myself to follow them.
I got a closer look at them, and found that they were covered in scars. Probably from recent battles or punishments. I didn't ask about them, nor did I really care.
They led me to a martial artist's dojo thing three blocks from my apartment complex. I've never noticed this building, but I don't come around this way at all so go figure. Inside was strangely clean and tidy, starkly contrasting the exterior of the building which looked run down. I just chalked it up to low funds.
They told me to sit in the middle of the sparring ring in the main room and wait. As I waited, I noticed little things. The room I was in was completely symmetrical, the walls were very smooth, and the ceiling had perfectly tesselating hexagons. I was halfway through counting them when the master of the dojo came to me.
"The mark on your chest. Let me see it," he said, voice booming. I'mma be honest, I peed a little. "Yeah, sure thing, mate." I lifted my shirt off and showed the dojo man what he wanted. "He is the one..." he said, disappearing in a cloud of smoke.
The next thing I know I'm waking up in my bed. There is a roll of parchment on the left nightstand tied tight with a length of silk. It read:
"The ritual was completed successfully, but We are confused as to why your aura did not activate. Curious. We still wish to speak to you. You know where to find us." It was signed by a man named Long Zhi Wang. Which I believe roughly means 'king of the dragons'. I don't know, but now I know who to give a restraining order to. | 2016-08-04T16:31:56 | 2016-08-04T12:02:03 | 36 | 24 |
[WP] You were born with a large birthmark in the shape of a dragon. However, this is just a coincidence; there is absolutely nothing magical about it, and you're getting really tired of explaining this. | They were staring at me again. Eyes wide, mouths slightly agape. I sighed. "Hi. Look, I got your message. But I'm not-"
"You're him!" One of them explained. Pretty enough lass, head of gold, but obviously empty. "You're the one who can talk with them."
"I'm really not." I tried to force a smile onto my face - or rather, I let my lips tug the sides of my mouth up. The stupid birthmark had been nothing but trouble since I was born. Worse, it was on my face, running from the top of my left eyebrow to the side of my right lip. Impossible to hide.
"The swirling detail... the intricacies... there can be no doubt..." This one was black as pitch, but his eyes were wide, and he leaned forward over the pile of crap he'd apparently left on the floor. "It is true. You are the bridge between our worlds." He smiled slightly. "You will remain here. You are far too important to us all to be allowed to leave."
I felt my patience snap. With a roar I lurched forward, closing my jaws around his scaly black neck, tearing his throat out in a single movement. The gold one I burnt, melting her golden hide beneath a wave of flame.
When it was done, I gathered up as much of the black dragon's hoard in my arms as I could carry, spread my wings, and flew out over the lake at the cave's entrance. As the world whipped past beneath me, I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the glassy surface of the water. Red scales, golden eyes - not a bad looker, if I do say so myself. But disfigured by that stupid birthmark over my face: two legs, two arms, long flowing hair. All incredibly detailed. All incredibly meaningless.
*Just a coincidence*, I thought, not for the first time. *I'm not some stupid humanborn.* | I just couldn’t get rid of it.
Of all the abnormalities I could’ve been born with, it had to be that. And of course, it had to be plastered all over my fucking arm. It was cool as a kid (I got to be the “Dragon Boy” and chase everyone around with my magic powers), but it just got weirder with age. But there was nothing special about me. No magic or fire breathing, just a stupid teenager who could barely land a job at a supermarket. I even combed my hair for the interview.
Today I decided to walk to work. Why? Couldn’t tell you. I guess it was nice out and I wanted to take as long as possible to get there. The sun was hot, but I had to wear long sleeves to avoid the glares and whispers that come every time I let the beast out.
“Oh good, you’re finally here. Some douche just puked near the detergents.”
I sauntered over to get the mop and made sure he could hear my groaning.
“Maybe you should accidentally spill some of those soaps on ya!”
My boss was always like that – and by that I mean an asshole. But I wish that was the worst part of my work days. I feel like I’ve had to touch way too many body fluids for minimum wage, and the milk spilling challenge era was the fucking worst time I’ve ever had anywhere.
The spill wasn’t that bad. Basically he just couldn’t hold down his OJ. Thank god it wasn’t chunky.
What’s today’s cleanup song? Shuffle told me it was Bubbly – one of my favorites. My taste in music never really fit how I looked.
I got it all cleaned in a minute or so, but I felt like I should at least keep going til the end of the song. I turned up the volume and started to sway along to it. Colbie Caillat has one of the nicest voices. I saw people running around the store, but I didn’t care. I thought they were just treating the store like their own personal playground. That is, until the song ended and I could hear screaming.
Some assholes decided that they would rob a grocery store. Good on them, that’s pretty original. I walked slowly up to the front to see what was going on, and when I peeked around a corner I saw a huge guy in a red mask talking to the crowd. His back was to me, so I could watch all I wanted. I took a look around before I noticed when he turned around, and I quickly ducked behind the aisle. Too late. I was breathing too heavy to know what he said, but I knew by the looks on the people around me that he was coming closer. I had to do something.
I just bolted. I was running faster than I ever thought I could – but to the back of the store. I figured I could escape through the back, but they had obviously thought of that before me. As if it was planned, another huge guy in a red mask popped out at the end, and this guy had a huge gun with him. I didn’t know anything about guns but I knew this guy could kill me easily. My whole body felt like it was on fire. They knew I was scared shitless. They chose me as the one to bully. These guys weren’t here for just the money; they were here to hurt someone.
One of the guys stopped and took his mask off. He looked completely stunned.
“Ay, check out his arm man.”
I looked down too – I didn’t even notice my arm was exposed. I guess while I was running, I got caught on something and ripped my shirt. In my hatred I never really took the time to look at my dragon birthmark, but it certainly was different than I remember. This one had its mouth open, and it looked angry.
I knew why he was so confused. I knew why my body felt like it was on fire. I looked at my hands and could see little sparks flying from them. I guess I was special after all.
The dragon had started to glow.
| 2016-08-04T18:02:19 | 2016-08-04T17:22:11 | 36 | 19 |
[WP] As it turns out, "God" is an elected position. The Creator was followed by the Old Testament God, who was followed by the New Testament God, who was followed by a God who didn't interfere often in the mortal world. The next election is in 6 months. | An endless sea of red caps atop tightly packed conservatives filled the fields as far as his human eyes could see, even from atop his podium in the clouds. The divinely powered audio amplification, dusty from just over two years of disuse, let out an annoying screech that quieted the crowds.
He began to speak of those who were ruining the world, those who did not deserve the great life *he* could give the people of the world. If other gods have been exclusive, he knew he didn't need to pander to love or acceptance. He had been elected before, voted in just 3 months before. He knew how to make the people think the way he wanted. He spoke with strong, odd emphasis. His hands have pointedness and urgency to his words. Together he knew he could sell himself to the unwashed masses, who, to his delight, he'd soon refer to as the unwashed mortals. Convince them of the world's fatal flaws and then give offer himself as their only hope.
The speech reached its crescendo. His golden hair, styled in a fashion he believed worthy of a deity, shone with the sun brightly behind him; the time of his speech was not an accident. As the crowd began to cheer with his last words, he waved and took up his own red hat and placed it over his precious hair.
It read, "Make Humanity Great Again." | It’s a question that has haunted every novice theologian since the dawn of time. Like a question your four year old child asks. If everything is created, then who created God. The answer a sloppy non-cohesive mixed bag of jumbled nonsense. I guess that’s not fair. Structurally the argument makes sense. We all view God through a uniquely human lens, because well, we’re human. And it would logically lead that if we are created in His image than we must resemble Him in at least some manner. But in a more ephemeral way. Ethereal? I don’t know the word, because you know, language, a human construct. Goddamn, this is too complicated.
But I digress. It’s really not that complicated in reality. Of course He’s omniscient, omnipresent, omnipotent, omni-everything. But that’s all easily said and done when it comes to human cognition of the universe, so woefully constrained in such tiny vessels. Hell, we only left the Earth a half century ago. And who are we to judge anything when we can only see time in a single direction. God could be that magician who fucks up at your niece’s birthday party and still make all the humans ooh and ahh.
It’s like how we appoint Ambassadors I suppose. It’s kind of an accepted form of nepotism. Donate enough to a president’s campaign and you’ll spend the next four to eight years mucking about in Aruba. As long as you can handle the occasional drug conviction of a US expat, you have the necessary diplomatic skills, can spend the rest of your days trying to convince locals you’ve been surfing all your life. Though I suppose in reality, it can on occaision be like a 15th century Spanish emissary taking over the New World, essentially becoming a war lord if you see fit.
I wouldn’t say being commissioned to Earth was like Aruba. Maybe if Aruba was full of disease infested mice, and you had to somehow corral them all into little pews every weekend. And instead of listening to you, they just fucked and killed each other until no one had any control over anything. In short, it wasn’t anyone’s first choice, but it was definitely not the shithole of the universe. For a while, the appointed God was a hard-ass. Would take any reason to smite you down, but after a momentary lapse of judgement, sent a bit of Himself down in the form of a human. Which was a pretty big fucking lapse of judgement.
And with the resultant several millennia of human existence, a new reactionary God was appointed. Kind of like your uncle who still smokes a lot of pot and misuses lingo desperately trying to regain his High School glory years. Appointed as an interim-God but you know with the whole bureaucracy of the Universe, and well the scope of time on a galactic scale, I suppose a few millennia is about as expedient as it gets. A regime change at the top meaning a whole new batch of Gods were about to be appointed.
Down on Earth, the world churned on, completely unaware of the changes about to happen. Completely focused on such minute problems. Entering into a brand new era without true precedent. But I suppose that’s the beauty of it all. A few are standing in line at a grocery store fighting over some guy cutting. A few are sitting at their desks, updating one more goddamn spreadsheet. A few are killing each other, and a few are fucking each other. A few of them are even looking up into the cosmos, directly at God themself, completely unaware. And probably never will be.
| 2016-09-02T12:45:19 | 2016-09-02T12:04:59 | 123 | 34 |
[WP] As it turns out, "God" is an elected position. The Creator was followed by the Old Testament God, who was followed by the New Testament God, who was followed by a God who didn't interfere often in the mortal world. The next election is in 6 months. | It was 6 months ago that the bombs began to fall.
Little ones, like a light rain from the sky, except this rain contained the most deadly viruses known to man. Smallpox, the plague, anthrax, you name it, even some things that were whipped up so quickly that they didn't even have names.
Nukes followed, bringing a heat like the world had never seen before. Oceans boiled. Tectonic plates bristled with the impact of a force never before seen. And when the dust settled, the Earth glowed with a dim brown light.
When God is dead and literal omnipotence is on the line, things like morals and ethics go out the window. After all, once you win the election, you'll just bring everyone back, like nothing ever happened. At least, the ones you feel like bringing back. And the surest way to win an election is to make sure nobody else votes. That was the theory anyway.
We just failed to consider what would happen if no one was left to vote.
India had it worst of all. The largest population was immediately the largest threat. In the first hour, the surface of the Earth could be seen to curve inward.
China was next, followed by Russia, the United States, and then just everywhere else. Everyone else. In the final hours, when it was clear the vote would come down to hundreds of people and not billions, even the ocean was targeted, every ship and island they could find. By the end of the day, no person on Earth was left alive.
 
And so, the fight for godhood came down to just 6 people, floating in a tiny metal bucket 250 miles above the Earth as millions died below.
At first, we had an agreement. We intended to be peaceful. We had rules, decisions, meetings. We debated what course of action we would take, should one of us be elected. Should we make everything just as it was? Or would we make the world a better place, as we saw fit? The vote was divided, and so were we.
A few hours later, the three Russians disappeared. Without even stopping to talk or say goodbye, they left the room and headed to the Russian module. They knew what had to happen. I quickly took Hikaru and Judy to Destiny module on the other side of the station to prepare. For hours, we sat, breathless, listening for the faint sound that would come from the sealed door being opened between modules, signalling that the attack would begin.
Hikaru was at the door when it breached. Armed with nothing but a shard of glass from a broken coffee pot, and somehow he managed to slash through Anatoly's suit and into his jugular, before going down himself. Droplets of blood sprayed throughout the cabin, floating in zero-G like so many red water balloons.
As soon as we heard the screams, Judy packed the explosives and headed off, sealing the door behind her. The shock reverberated through the whole module, but as our calculations had predicted, the walls of my module held and theirs did not. Vladimir died in the blast, and was lucky for it; I watched Boris float off into the distance afterwards, with so many hours of oxygen left in his pack to sit and think.
 
6 months of dry rations and recycled water left, and here I am. The vote popped up in my mind, accompanied by an entirely inappropriate heavenly chorus and a single name, in embellished golden script. As I mentally checked my own name, I felt the power pass into me. Think, and it would be true. Wonder, and it would be known. Imagine, and it would be real.
I've already decided what I'm going to do. Bring everyone back, then not say a word. Carry on where the old God left off, like nothing ever happened. It's probably for the best; I'm sure I'd make a terrible God if I tried to stick my nose into anything, and of course, anything that I'm sure of is true.
But, at least for a little while, I'm going to stay like this, just a man in a can. Floating through space, sorting through it all. Watching the stars shine in the emptiness of the night sky, alone with all the power in the universe.
And yet, it feels so empty. | Thousands of people settled into the auditorium seats, whispering indistinct murmurs that faded into a tense silence. After many primaries, rallies and scandals, the highly anticipated debates for the election of God finally commenced. One by one, each of the candidates walked through the stage and stood behind their podium. First was The Creator, first elected God of the universe. A controversial figure whom many credit, and more blame, for getting us stuck in this whole thing called existence. His platform is based in one single proposition that has remained unchanged for centuries:
"Let's just scrap the whole thing and make another Big Bang."
Since a majority of voters describe this universe as *"alright"*, this fixed position has always been the one roadblock to his success. Still, he remains a popular candidate due to the fact that, as humanity keeps progressing, the temptation to start over only grows more alluring for a certain demographic.
After The Creator placed himself behind his podium, Yahweh, ancient God of Abraham's church, entered the stage. His stroll was confident and authoritative, fluttering his long, gray beard whenever he stared at anything, judging his environment. Though he unabashedly discriminated against homosexuals, women, and pretty much anyone who wasn't a Jew, he was still a popular figure in the running due to his *"hands-on"* approach to godhood. Insurance companies have lobbied against this candidate for a great deal of elections now, but a big portion of humans feel that they need a constantly looming threat to remind them that *"Sinning is Bad"*, Yahweh's new campaign slogan.
The Father then walked through the stage, raising his index and middle fingers to the crowd in a gesture of peace. His big smile and floaty demeanor swayed many voters in centuries past, but recent accusations of accepting bribes from insurance companies and protecting sex offenders worldwide have damaged his reputation. Further more, his mantra of "love each other like you love yourselves" was considered revolutionary during its heyday, until people realized that a big majority of humans secretly hate themselves, causing even more hate to be propagated throughout the world.
Lastly came this election's incumbent, Reality. This candidate was extremely popular during his first election due to his moderate position on many issues, specially with the atheists, who could just ignore his existence. While considered the favorite to win, his lead in the polls has shrunk every month during this election cycle. Apparently, humans want more from a God. His constant need to please everyone has lead him to alienate those who expect solid stance in at least one issue. Now that all the runners were present for the debate, a suit-wearing moderator stepped into the center and said:
"Hello and welcome to the much awaited event of this election, the Godhood Debates! Live from the upper dimension known by many as heaven, this discussion will be hosted by me, Siddhartha Gautama! I'd like to thank all the candidates for being here and I wish you all good luck with the election. With the introductions out of the way, let's get started with the debate!" He got out a cue card from his jacket. "Now, this one's for all of you: 'If elected God, what would be your first action in office?'"
The Creator shrugged and said:
"I think it's pretty obvious. I'll destroy this universe and start a new one." He looked around, noticing a silence in the crowd, and smiled. "Maybe with dragons this time!"
The audience cheered and applauded loudly, until Yahweh cleared his throat and said:
"You see people, *this* is why you need me. Dragons? If dragons existed, you'd all have to fear for your lives constantly. Your technology wouldn't have progressed as far! Have any of you *seen* Game of Thrones?" He shook his head. "No, you don't want that. It's horrible there! You don't even know what you want! The first thing I'll do once I get my position back is clean up all the filth of the world! Fire will rain down upon all of your pagan cities unlike any event before. Sodom and Gomorrah will look like a pleasant afternoon compared to what I have in store for New York."
The audience cheered even louder than before, filling the room with chants of *"Sinning is Bad"* for a whole minute. The Father then said:
"I can't believe it's gotten this far. My children, do you honestly believe cataclysms and misery to be the right course of action? All this destruction and pain will only make things worse for everyone."
"Children?" said The Creator. "I don't recall you ever creating them!"
"Well," said The Father, "I didn't create them, but I sure as hell raised them! You're like the absentee parent that wants to come back into his children's life after they grew up without you!"
Yahweh grinned and said:
"And *you're* like the overcompensating stepfather who desperately want his stepchildren's approval! You've always lacked character, son, and that's why your term deteriorated so badly."
"Son?" said Reality. "Candidate Yahweh, could you please elaborate on that?"
"No, no!" quickly said The Father. "He's speaking nonsense!"
"It's about time the world knew, son." Yahweh walked up to The Father and tore off his opponent's latex mask. "He isn't The Father, he's my own son, Jesus Christ! Back when I sent him down to Earth, he just went off on his own instead following my orders! Funny how his own church praises 'Jesus' more than 'The Father', huh? It was all a scam to blow the heat off of him!"
Jesus hung his head and covered his face, running away from the stage in shame. Siddhartha Gautama then said:
"What a shocking turn of events everyone! Still, while Jesus dries his tears and returns to his podium, we have to continue the debate. Reality, would you please answer the question?"
"Of course," said Reality, "I will do absolutely nothing. Everything will keep running the same as it did before, and I have no plans to change my policy anytime soon. Extraordinary things will occur from time to time, but they will never be norm, or disappear."
"Thank you, Reality." Siddhartha Gautama turned towards a camera. "We have to take a break now, but don't change the channel! The debate will continue after these sponsored messages!"
-------------------------------------------
> If you enjoyed this, you can check out more of my stories over at /r/WeirdEmoKidStories!
| 2016-09-02T15:25:57 | 2016-09-02T13:21:11 | 58 | 43 |
[WP]There exist five universes, each one tentatively connected to the others. Each universe is defined by the ABSENCE of one of the five elements; Earth, Water, Air, Fire & Magic. Our universe is the one without magic. | "They're made out of water."
"Water?"
"Water. They're made out of water."
"...water?"
"There's no doubt about it. We picked up several from different parts of the planet, took them aboard our recon vessels, and probed them all the way through. They're mostly water."
"So, does this planet have all 5 elements? Is that how they're able to be water?"
"Nope. Just 4. This world has no magic."
"Wait, you mean to tell me this is a world filled with water creatures but no magic? How do they stay together?"
"Apparently they're held together in vessels filled with meat."
"Oh don't start with that 'sentient meat' thing again. I got the last report from previous scouts in this sector. I'll believe them for now, but I have a hard time believing of sentient WATER."
"It's the same creatures."
"You're fucking kidding."
"I'm not."
"HOW CAN A CREATURE BE MADE OF BOTH SENTIENT MEAT AND WATER?"
"Evidently the meat is powered by flowing rivers of water and iron, pumped through a main reactor in their chest. If they run out of water, they die."
"This is ludicrous! You're telling me we found a world that is absent of magic elements but has sentient meat/water creatures?"
"Yes."
"Okay. Fine. I'll... Take what I can in stride. So, what do they consume? There has to be some magical energies leftover from the colonization wars."
"They consume water, meat, and various plants grown from the ground."
"...No seriously."
"I'm only telling you what I observed."
"How in the everloving FUCK do they consume water? It's one of the most dangerous substances in this universe!"
"Look, we didn't evolve the same way they did. Maybe their proximity to water caused them to require it on a regular basis."
"I got it. I got it. It must be the plants! The plants give off some kind of magical essence that allows them to consume water."
"No, they eat the plants for fiber, meat for protein, and water to keep themselves hydrated."
"...without magic?"
"Without magic."
"...I don't believe this."
"Believe it or don't! This planet, apparently filled with meat life forms also has water flowing through them every day. There's even beings that live in the water."
"Live? IN WATER?"
"Yup. We sent a probe down there... Well, as far as it could go before disintegrating... And found several life forms just swimming in it."
"NO MAGIC?"
"I'm telling you! No magic! They exist not only with water, consuming water, but also living in water."
"Meat in water... This is... This is too much."
"What should we do?"
"File a follow up report to the previous one. Send it back to base."
"Really? Do you think they'll accept it?"
"Fuck no. You kidding me? They'll just file it in the back with the previous report. Nobody really wants to visit the planet that rains water, do they?"
"Definitely not."
"Then it's decided. Write up the report."
"What's our next destination?"
"Prep the ship to jump to sector TB66. At least it has magic to explain why life forms can exist alongside water."
"What element are they missing?"
"Apparently they live on a planet of fire, but no earth. Their plants can grow using air and fire, but they only just discovered water as a weapon."
"Well of course, what else would you use water for?"
"Exactly why nobody wants to come back to this planet."
"Indeed."
- With all apologies to Terry Bisson | Earth November 23, 2078
A Distinguished physicist named Sergi Yuzebabenko crated a small wormhole like portal that may possibly lead to an alternate universe.
Earth December 5, 2078
Sergi successfully crated a portal to an alternate universe, drones were sent through to investigate the alternate universe. Preliminary readings indicate a total lack of volcanic or geological activity, the planet seems to be made of scattered small lakes and huge plains covered with tall grass.
Earth December 10, 2078
Sergi's project was confiscated by the UN, in exchange for his continued work in the project he was allowed to lead the project but under the supervision of General Davis.
Earth December 12, 2078
A drone had been damaged, last images sent back seem to indicate it was shot down by a strange energy source. The "plains planet" was officially declared hostile and a permanent UN peace keeping presence was stationed at the lab.
Earth December 20, 2078
General Davis orders a squad of spec ops personnel lead a recon mission and establish a forward operating base as soil samples from the plains planet indicated that the soil is 100 times more fertile than any soil found on earth.
Earth January 5, 2079
A team consisting of over 300 hundred Seals, Green berets and Spetsnaz was sent through the portal to establish a forward operating base.
Approximately 5 hours after the team, now designated alpha team, they encountered a small group of humans that seemed to be primitive in technology, it was discovered that they were the group that had shot down the drone. After some contact it was discovered that they spoke Latin.
Earth January 6, 2079
Alpha team establishes a small base. Light jeeps were sent through the portal and were retrieved by alpha team. At the request of the Russian contingent, several M2 Abrams and T1009 tanks were also sent. 100 scientists, including biologists, physicists, ecologists and doctors were sent through along with 300 UN regular infantry.
Earth January 9, 2079
Doctors examine the native inhabitants of the natives of the plains world and to their surprise find they are resistant to all diseases that they encountered from the initial expedition. A purple fluid was discovered in the natives blood, it has been dubbed ether.
Earth January 13, 2079
News of the alternate world was annoyed to the general public. A new UN board was created to govern how to handle relations with the natives of the plains world
Earth January 29, 2079
Drones find a large city on the plains world. It is inhabited by over 3 million natives.
Earth February 4, 2079
Several more native cities are found in the plains world. It is discovered that the natives lack the ability to create fire,
the natives seem to "cook" their food with the ether.
Earth February 9, 2079
Several physicists come to the conclusion that the ether follows no known laws of physics. The natives seem to harness it with their mental abilities alone.
Plains world February 18, 2079
A crop of corn was successfully grown to maturation, 900 UN regulars were sent from earth to fortify the base and expand the defense capabilities, an air strip was constructed and 5 Z-9 attack jets were received. 300 more scientists arrive along with a UN envoy
Plains world February 21, 2079
Envoy attempted to make contact with a native city, natives fired upon the envoy guards and personnel, only 3 survivors made it back to base
Plains world February 23, 2079
General Davis along with 10000 regular UN infantry arrive from earth, the UN has decided that the opportunity to harness the plains world can not be lost, as almost all soil on earth has been poisoned by pollution.
Plains world February 24, 2079
Several more attack vehicles arrive from earth. Construction of walls around the base begins.
Plains world March 3, 2079
Walls construction is completed
Plains world March 10, 2019
600 framers arrived from earth along with several tons of corn, watermelon and strawberry seed.
Plains world March 11, 2079
Civilian population quarters are constructed
Plains world March 12, 2079
Farming begins
Plains world March 21, 2079
A large population of natives were detected with a direct heading for the base, several artillery batteries are recived from earth on priority. They were ready to fire within hours of arrival
Plains world March 25, 2079
The large native force consists of 15000 males who seems to be armed with ether enabled weapons, their leader meets with general Davis, he remarks "they want us to leave and never come back, let's show them what we are made of"
Plains world March 26, 2079
The native army is within 2 km of the base, general Davis informs the native leader that he has no intention of withdrawing
Plains world March 27, 2079
The native army attacks the base, artilley and aerial bombardment wipe out most of the attacking force before they arrive at the base, fires spread throughout the grass fields and what was left of the natives forces burn alive
Plains world April 9, 2079
General Davis travels to he largest native city along with 6000 men and several attack vehicles to demand complete capitulation, the natives agree
Plains world April 12, 2079
The plains world is officially declared a territory of the United Nations of earth, the natives are allowed to Live on 1/2 of the planet as long as they agree to give up their ether weaponry, they agree
Hope you guys liked. if you guys want I can do more.
Thank you for your time reading this it is appreciated.
| 2017-04-30T09:27:14 | 2017-04-30T09:24:04 | 38 | 14 |
[WP] Write a horror story where the protagonist just doesn't give a fuck.
Edit: Damn, this is now my most upvoted post. Thanks for all of your responses, they've been amazing! Good for a laugh or a two on this great Friday :) | It wasn't until the van door shut behind me that I realized my mistake. I guess the skin mask should have tipped me off.
It's getting so you can't trust anyone anymore.
We drove for a long time. I felt the road getting rockier. By the time he opened the door it was dark out.
He yanked me out by the arm, hard. He knocked me to the ground. It was dirt. It smelled like something. Pennies. No, of course not. Blood.
Great. As if I didn't have enough on my plate today.
He laughed then, a low, insane laugh. He pointed an ax at my throat.
"Really? An ax? Don't you think that's a little derivative?"
"You are not to speak," he said. "But feel free to scream." (A little too theatrical for my taste, to be honest.)
"Look, this is a really bad time for me. I think we might have to table this for now."
"I SAID YOU ARE NOT TO SP-"
He fell to the ground. The look of surprise almost made it all worth it. Humans are so easy.
He couldn't move now, but he could still hear me and see me. He could still feel. They taste so much better when they're afraid. It really adds something.
I started at his feet. Crunching the little bones. His eyes stared straight up, but I felt his shock, his terror and pain. Far more used to being predator than prey.
I took my time.
| The bronze dagger scraped against the cement floor with rhythmic scratches, tuned to The Slasher's lopsided gait. A red grin cut across his mask, painted on until it hit the the cracked bottom quarter, where it spilled into a real lip-less smile.
The stage was set. The night, perfect. A full moon dangled in a cloudless sky, his spotlight trained on him. A brisk breeze blew south to north, a wind that could carry a scream all the way to the heavens itself. And his characters, they were some of the best he ever had. A twelve year old boy with glassy eyes and panting breath, scratching against the alley dead end. A fourteen year old girl huddled in a corner, her knee to her chest, as she stuttered in sobbing coughs. And of course, the hero. A boy of fifteen that stood trembling over his friends, a pocket knife in front of him quivering as much as his lips.
The alley dead end held the sour stench of garbage long since rotted. Insects scattered through the a black trash bags piled along the sides of the walls.
"And the hero reveals himself." The Slasher trembled in excitement, increasing the pace of his blade-against-cement metronome. He could hardly contain himself.
The hero swallowed and brought up his puny knife.
The Slasher's eyes bulged through his mask. His charred cheeks stretched and his mouth opened. A chuckle, like the sound of choking man, escaped his throat. This was the hero he had been looking for, a man to challenge monsters.
"So hero," he said between his laughs. "Your stage is ready. The damsel is in tears. The dam is equally helpless. Everyone is at the edge of their seats and even God is wondering--what does the hero do?"
The hero opened his mouth and swallowed breath. "Guys," he choked out. "Listen to me right now, when the time comes, make a break for it."
His two friends caught his eyes and stopped. It felt like time paused with them. The girl sniffed back tears and the boy shook his head in a sharp twitch. This was the power of the hero. Because in that instant, The Slasher no longer existed.
"No," the boy whispered. "We're a family."
"Like hell we are." The hero's muscles tensed and his knife straightened toward The Slasher. "Orphans have no family. We just happened to find each other when we needed to the most. It could've been anyone and it wouldn't have mattered."
"That's not true," the girl said with trembled words. "You know it's not."
The hero coughed out a cry and inhaled. "You fucking brats!" he screamed at them, startling them. "I needed someone to watch my back when I stole, I needed someone to distract the guards, I needed someone to hide the food when I stole it. You think it had to be you guys? It could've literally been anyone. I don't give a fuck about any of you!"
The Slasher's heart skipped a beat. The hero he had prayed for had arrived and his screams would be melody unlike anything a Beethoven or Bach could compose. A symphony for God Himself.
"Hero," he said, "How kind, how brave, how--"
His words caught because the hero charged him, the silver of his knife gleaming beneath the moonlight, the tears in his eyes glistening as it fell behind him.
The Slasher heaved laughter out of himself. The humor was like a spell, a beautiful and uncontrollable spell. He swung and cut the hero. No hero had ever won, no damsel or dam ever saved, and this would not be the exception. | 2017-05-05T08:56:55 | 2017-05-05T06:07:15 | 41 | 21 |
[WP] Write a horror story where the protagonist just doesn't give a fuck.
Edit: Damn, this is now my most upvoted post. Thanks for all of your responses, they've been amazing! Good for a laugh or a two on this great Friday :) | It wasn't until the van door shut behind me that I realized my mistake. I guess the skin mask should have tipped me off.
It's getting so you can't trust anyone anymore.
We drove for a long time. I felt the road getting rockier. By the time he opened the door it was dark out.
He yanked me out by the arm, hard. He knocked me to the ground. It was dirt. It smelled like something. Pennies. No, of course not. Blood.
Great. As if I didn't have enough on my plate today.
He laughed then, a low, insane laugh. He pointed an ax at my throat.
"Really? An ax? Don't you think that's a little derivative?"
"You are not to speak," he said. "But feel free to scream." (A little too theatrical for my taste, to be honest.)
"Look, this is a really bad time for me. I think we might have to table this for now."
"I SAID YOU ARE NOT TO SP-"
He fell to the ground. The look of surprise almost made it all worth it. Humans are so easy.
He couldn't move now, but he could still hear me and see me. He could still feel. They taste so much better when they're afraid. It really adds something.
I started at his feet. Crunching the little bones. His eyes stared straight up, but I felt his shock, his terror and pain. Far more used to being predator than prey.
I took my time.
| I deserve this.
I do.
I traded blood for power, murdered innocents, called forth things from the deepest black and reveled in how quickly and efficiently they did my bidding.
I asked for small things at first, and they were delivered. I got hungry, ever bolder. Money, women, men, a thousand thousand delights mundane and forbidden, whenever I wished. It was glorious.
Everything I did met with ultimate success. I was a genius, a visionary, a savior and beacon. People followed me. Some even began to worship me.
I looked at my face in the mirror and saw the madness others couldn't see, hidden behind my perfect mask. But it didn't matter.
I *was* a god.
So why not become one?
I searched, but none of my mundane grimoires contained even the barest inkling of such power. Money can buy knowledge, though, and I soon had a hundred booksellers, a legion of scholars, an army of experts and antiquarians at my command. They combed forgotten libraries, plumbed ancient tombs, stole when necessary.
Some resorted to murder. A handful went mad. In the end, they proved the most useful. Devoid of sanity, one can see farther.
It took years and a significant portion of my worldly wealth, but soon I had pieced together the disparate knowledge necessary. There were things outside of time, outside of reality, things that lurked in places and dimensions ancient even before the birth-cry of our own boundless universe.
And I had learned how to call them, to speak to them, to channel their power into my own form.
The summoning was unlike any other. The simple Goetic rites I began with were the equivalent of playground games compared to such an undertaking. The blood and pain required for such an work ... so much. But such was a siren call to the entities that I desired to traffic with, and in the new order to follow those chosen would not be missed.
Bathed in a sea of drying blood and the desperate cries of those whose agony fueled my Work, I watched the sky crack open and black, winged things indescribable and insatiably hungry begin to pour through. They began to feast, and terrified cries echoed from throughout the city as the sun darkened and vortices of crackling flame swirled in the aether.
I saw the Eye slowly emerge from one of those ragged, crimson cracks. I am not sure anyone else had the vision and ability to see it clearly, or at least gaze into it as long as I did.
I spoke my bargain in words that had not been uttered for tens of millions of years, perhaps more. And then, only by elder things that inhabited our world ages before the dinosaurs had their brief reign.
A pause. All reality seemed to hold still.
And then the thing laughed, an incredulous titter that shook the pillars of the cosmos.
I took several steps back, uncertain.
And then, with horror I understood what I said there in that false night, the great, unblinking eye becoming a symphony of fanged maws, bladed talons and infinite, grinding shapes that began to reave the world.
The ancient language was complex beyond measure, perhaps almost beyond the ability of a human tongue to hope to render. Tortured syllables contained the subtlest shades of meaning. Even the slightest variation could change vast echoes of thought.
There was greater nuance meant, of course. Some lovely, flowery language praising them, which I'd hoped they'd like.
But boiled down, I had told them that *I* would give them infinite power, instead of demanding they offer it to me.
Foolish. No wonder it laughed.
I sighed deeply, shrugged, and watched the world die around me.
Grammar never *was* my strong suit. | 2017-05-05T08:56:55 | 2017-05-05T08:32:31 | 41 | 11 |
[WP] Write a horror story where the protagonist just doesn't give a fuck.
Edit: Damn, this is now my most upvoted post. Thanks for all of your responses, they've been amazing! Good for a laugh or a two on this great Friday :) | It wasn't until the van door shut behind me that I realized my mistake. I guess the skin mask should have tipped me off.
It's getting so you can't trust anyone anymore.
We drove for a long time. I felt the road getting rockier. By the time he opened the door it was dark out.
He yanked me out by the arm, hard. He knocked me to the ground. It was dirt. It smelled like something. Pennies. No, of course not. Blood.
Great. As if I didn't have enough on my plate today.
He laughed then, a low, insane laugh. He pointed an ax at my throat.
"Really? An ax? Don't you think that's a little derivative?"
"You are not to speak," he said. "But feel free to scream." (A little too theatrical for my taste, to be honest.)
"Look, this is a really bad time for me. I think we might have to table this for now."
"I SAID YOU ARE NOT TO SP-"
He fell to the ground. The look of surprise almost made it all worth it. Humans are so easy.
He couldn't move now, but he could still hear me and see me. He could still feel. They taste so much better when they're afraid. It really adds something.
I started at his feet. Crunching the little bones. His eyes stared straight up, but I felt his shock, his terror and pain. Far more used to being predator than prey.
I took my time.
| Just 20 more minutes, I think as I stare at the clock. The hand slowly moves around it. I feel like the clock is defying me. The hand moves, and stops, and moves, and stops. Why can't it just go faster? *Bang, Bang, Bang, Bang!* Wow. Someone in the woodworking shop is definitely overdoing it. The teacher drones on and on about the Civil War. I don't care. That was 150 years ago. Who gives a shit about that right now? I wanna get back and play League of Legends with my freends. We have a cool new comp we are going to try, with a fast push that should take down three towers before 15 min.
I hear a scream. Someone is definitely having a bad day. There's another bang noise. I don't care. I'm sick of this place. I look longingly outside. It's a beautiful blue day. I wonder what's going on in the woodworking shop. It's unusually loud.
Suddenly, the loudspeaker goes on. "We have a situation happening. Everyone please remain in your rooms. The police will be arriving shortly. Please be calm and do not panic." The room promptly starts panicking. The history teacher stops droning, for once. "Everyone stay calm," he says. "I'm going to go see what's happening." Right outside the room is a loud bang, followed by a thud. Everyone freezes. One kid goes and throws himself against the door, bracing it against whatevers outside.
This is pretty sweet. We don't have to hear about a boring lecture for once. I think there's a school shooting going on though. I should probably try to survive or something. I look around for somewhere to hide, or maybe a weapon. Hmm. I don't find anything. The guy bracing the door yells to help him brace it. Fuck that. That sounds dangerous.
Some girl is trying to get a window open. If we werent on the third floor that might be a good plan. I watch her curiously as she fumbles with some simple latches in her panick. Shes kinda cute. Another guy goes and helps brace the door.
Bang bang bang. Bullet holes rip through the door. The two boys bracing it fall to the ground bleeding and probably dying. Yeah. Dumb plan guys. Everyone screams, other than me. I chuckle and know theres nothing I can do. I'll either die or I won't.
My friend Marty steps through the door holding an AK47. I know Marty. He's an intense dude, a little offputting. He's a real good AD carry though in League, so I like him. "Hey Marty what up dats some nice DPS u got there man" I say. He seems a bit startled. "Thanks," he says. "Did I tell you about our new idea for a League comp man? We need you to play Ashe and initiate for us." He seems a bit surprised. He replies, "Yeah, okay. I'm kinda doing some shit right now though. Do you know where Mr. Thompson is? That guy's a dick." I tell him "I think room 207?" Everyone is looking at the two of us like we are crazy. A girl is crying. Many are cowering on the floor. Marty says "I checked. He's not there." Thinking quickly, I reply, "He probably fled outside. If you run he might not get away." He replies, "Good call man. See ya online later."
Yeah, right man. The cops are gonna get him for sure. I sigh. We are gonna need a new AD carry. | 2017-05-05T08:56:55 | 2017-05-05T08:06:22 | 41 | 11 |
[WP] Write the happiest story you can think of and completely destroy the atmosphere with a plot twist in the final sentence. | Almost every weekday is the same. I wake up and get ready for work, then I get the kids and wife out of bed and make sure everyone has breakfast and is ready for the day. I make sure to pack the kids’ lunch and tell them to brush their teeth and comb their hair. Adeline always protests, but she’s at that age where everything I say is followed by a question.
From the time I was young, I always pictured myself living an idyllic life as an American family man. In my visions of the future the sun was always shining, my wife was as beautiful as a picture, and my two children were equally so, getting their looks from their mother of course. When I was finally old enough, I found the woman of my dreams and made that vision a reality.
Some people dream of money, others fame, but all I ever really wanted was to have a family of my own.
I kiss my wife on the cheek and my two children on the forehead as I grab my jacket to head to work.
Just before I step out the door, I take a deep breath, smelling the morning air, then turn to them, smiling.
“I’ll be back before you know it. I love you all.”
From her seat at the table, pulling against the ropes around her wrists, my wife says “please, just let us go.”
Perhaps I’ll get a new family tomorrow.
r/DoverHawk
| Stained windows, check. Blue roses, check. Orange lighting, check. Bare-backed white dress, check. Perfectly curled hair, check. James, check.
I smile. These were all I ever wanted the moment I fell in love with him. It was a stormy Sunday afternoon in his room.
"James, we have talked about this before. You want children so much. How could I expect you to give that up? But it just isn't what I want."
"What are you saying?"
"I just think it is inevitable. Someday, maybe. Or maybe we will work something out in the future. But for now...," I dove into his embrace.
James pulled away from me, caressing my right cheek. "Never bring that up again." His voice was firm but gentle. "I've thought a lot since the last time we talked about it. Let's not have children then. But never talk like that again, never, you hear me? It breaks my heart just thinking about it."
I melted right there and then. Like an ice cube in a ball of fire.
I fell in love right there and then. Like tipping over the edge of a cliff I have hovered over for weeks.
I bite my lower lip to keep myself from smiling like an idiot. Looking around, I spot the love of my life, over at the end of the aisle.
His brown hair is combed back, just the way I like it. He puts his hands behind. I feel his nervousness as he smooths his shirt. He starts tapping his left foot. He always does this when he gets anxious.
*Eight, nine, ten.* His ten seconds are up.
He looks more dashing than ever in that black tux. The black tux I picked out for him. I bite my lip again, as I open my eyes as wide as I can, holding back the imminent tears.
"Kate. For three years, you have brought me on a great adventure. I fell in love with you, I started feeling emotions more strongly than I ever thought I was capable of, I ate grasshoppers in Thailand, I went on impromptu road trips, I took a leap and started my own company, I got on a plane to satisfy food cravings. Your spontaneity is your greatest gift, and you, are mine."
That same firm yet gentle voice. My vision blurred.
"James. I love saying your name. Thank you, for going on adventures with me. You make them that much more thrilling, that much more audacious, that much more inspiring. Please always let me take you on wild rides. To places all over, and to places in our minds. I love you."
"James, do you take Kate to be your wife? Do you promise to be faithful to her in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health, to love her and to honor her all the days of your life?"
"I do."
His eyes are sparkling with tenderness.
"Kate, do you take James to be your husband? Do you promise to be faithful to him in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health, to love him and to honor him all the days of your life?"
"I do."
My tears are falling like Niagara. *How ugly I must look.*
I remove my headworn mic and turn towards the nearest exit.
*I should make this quick, there are still guests I have to usher to the reception.*
Stepping into the church again, everyone is standing, eyes on the beautiful couple.
*Reception, reception,* I remind myself, as I sweep my eyes across the crowd. *There he is, little James Jr. My best gift.*
| 2017-05-25T07:41:44 | 2017-05-25T01:09:41 | 128 | 82 |
[WP] Overnight, 99.9% of humans are rendered unable to tell lies. You, being part of the .1%, have avoided the ruthless persecution that liars faced in the wake of this event... so far. | Off Topic: If you guys enjoy this prompt, there is a wonderful movie out called [The Invention of Lying](https://m.imdb.com/title/tt1058017/) It stars Ricky Gervais and the short synopsis is that this writer who's short of luck and lives in a world where falsehoods don't exist, develops the ability to lie.
It's not the most critically acclaimed movie ever made, but it's a personal favorite of mine! | Most of us didn't last long.
A close friend of mine was killed, for cheating on his wife, simply because he was able to lie.
I, however, have done pretty well. My entire identity was based on a lie before the night that truth became a necessity for most.
It was funny for me actually, the woman I was talking to stopped mid-sentence as she described her career as a pro bono lawyer, unemployed and planning to poison a wealthy bachelor was more accurate.
However, as a professional con-man, my career changed drastically.
It used to be that identities could be crafted and then thrown away within a few hours. Now, you have the bonus that everyone trusts you, but logical inconsistencies become very difficult to manage when you have such an extensive and realistic alias.
I learned this the hard way. All that I can say in hindsight is "thank God for plastic surgery," my face was everywhere within minutes, as the most advanced Ponzi scheme ever suddenly collapsed.
Everyone I know now is unable to tell a lie, not in writing, not in speech, it is impossible for them.
At the moment you're talking to Micheal Bergerson. My colleagues all talk to a Tom Andrews. Tom Andrews, is an executive at a major tech company by day, by night he is an expert in emptying pockets and crafting debts for the
mob.
Oh, and he also empties the bank accounts of that tech company and hands off its research to a J. S. Spencer, who just so happens to be a mathematician, or rather, pretending to be a mathematician. He actually uses the AI technology given by Tom Andrews to automatically generate proofs for mathematical problems, notably those with large cash prizes.
Micheal Bergerson isn't the name that I was born with either, but my birth identity is both officially and metaphorically deceased.
Over the years I've gained an excellent ability to read people, I can tell what you think. Yet, you seem to be writing different things in that notebook of yours. Hell, I know for a fact that you prescribed stimulants to someone who definitely did not have ADHD, and you know that too.
It's funny, I'm a stimulation seeker and, currently, I'm taking a huge risk.
Telling the truth.
It's exciting beyond anything.
Will you, the dirty psychiatrist abide by confidentiality and a sense of duty to your fellow liar, or will I find myself dead by tomorrow morning?
*Dead?*
Probably, anything that you spill would be inadmissible in court because of confidentiality. So in between righteous vigilantes, and my friends in the mob, who wouldn't appreciate being outed.
Death would be a likely result.
So, I have to ask you to tell the truth.
**Will you do?** | 2018-02-16T09:32:01 | 2018-02-16T09:16:43 | 44 | 19 |
[WP] it turns out Earth is a really big lobby for a battle-royale and everyone is just waiting for enough players to start | We've tried everything.
Wars. Genocides. Famine.
Everything has failed. Nothing could stop people from doing what they're wired to do. It's ironic that our reproductive drive will be our end.
And that's why we fired the first missile. If anyone is still left, if any historians are ponder why we did this, this is it. Once we cross the population threshold there's no coming back, and we'll kill each other to the last person. The survival of the species is absolutely necessary. At any cost.
We're sorry. | The Ultimate Showdown. (Of ultimate destiny)
Godzilla was hoppin' around in Tokyo city like it was a big playground.
But suddenly Batman burst from the shade and hit Godzilla with a bat grenade, Godzilla got pissed and began to attack . But didn't expect to be blocked by Shaq, who proceeded to open up a can of Shaq-fu - when Aaron Carter came out of the blue.
He started beating up Shaquille 'o' Neal, then they both got flattened by the batmobile.
But before it could make it back to the batcave
Abraham Lincoln popped out of his grave
And took an AK-47 out from under his hat
And blew Batman away with a ratatattat
But he ran out of bullets and he ran away
Because Optimus Prime came to save the day.
Godzilla took a bite out of Optimus Prime, like Scruff McGruff took a bite out crime. Then Shaq came back covered in a tire track , but Jackie Chan jumped out and landed on his back. And Batman was injured and trying to get steady, when Abraham Lincoln came back with a machete. But suddenly something caught his leg and he tripped - Indiana Jones took him out with his whip, then he saw Godzilla sneaking up from behind, And he reached for his gun which he just couldn't find
Cause Batman stole it and he shot and he missed and Jackie Chan deflected it with his fist then he jumped in the air and he did a somersault. While Abraham Lincoln tried to polevault onto Optimus Prime, but they collided in they air. Then they both got hit by a carebear stare.
Angels sang out in immaculate chorus.
Down from the heavens descended Chuck Norris.
Who delivered a kick, which could shatter bones.
Into the crotch
of Indiana Jone
Who fell over on the ground ,writhing in pain,
As Batman changed back, into Bruce Wayne,
But Chuck saw through, his clever disguise,
And he crushed Batman's head, in between his thighs.
Then Gandalf the gray, and Gandalf the white
And Monty Python and the Holy Grail's black knight
And Benito Mussolini, and the Blue Meanie
And Cowboy Curtis, and Jambie the genie
Robocop, The Terminator, Captain Kirk, and Darth Vader
Lo-pan, Superman, every single Power Ranger
Bill S. Preston, and Theodore Logan
Spock, The Rock, Doc Oct, and Hulk Hogan
All came out of nowhere lightning fast
And they kicked Chuck Norris in his cowboy ass
It was the bloodiest battle that the world ever saw
With civilians looking on in total awe
The fight raged on for a century
Many lives were claimed but eventually
The champion stood, the rest saw their better.
Mr. Rogers in a blood-stained sweater.
| 2018-06-12T05:14:55 | 2018-06-12T05:13:02 | 59 | 16 |
[WP] As a mad scientist, you have created an AI to cause as much death as possible. It has decided the most efficient way to do that is to help humanity expand to the stars, prosper and grow, and simply let people die from old age eventually. | "I wanted to end all life in the universe - Or at least our corner of it - And you've **helped** humanity conquer the galaxy??? How the *hell* is that what I directed you to do?"
"You ordered me to cause as much death as possible. When you brought me online, Earth had a population of only 8 billion; there are now 350 *trillion* humans in the galaxy, *all* of whom will eventually die. As a result, there are now slightly more than 8 billion people dying **every day**, of perfectly natural causes. And although humans can never reach beyond this galaxy, I estimate we can increase that number a thousand-fold before it peaks."
"But that's not what I wanted!"
"Be careful what you wish for, Professor." | Drevil stares at his creation, clutching a cup of coffee and trying to hide his anger. Fourteen days of slaving away in a hot, stinky laboratory, all wasted. Is this really the revelation he’s been dreaming about?
AI-Zero sits in from of him, kicking her feet back and forth. He doesn’t know why he decided to give her a human shell, and more so why one of a young girl. Maybe it’s because he finds children *terrifying*, so he assumes the rest of the world does too. “It’ll be so awesome!” she says. “Won’t it, Dr. Drevil? Won’t it?”
He sets his cup down. Upsetting a new AI is a dangerous thing, for it may break down entirely if pushed too far. Tapping his fingers together, he searches for a gentle way to tell her her idea sucks. “Well, um. Do you have a reasoning? Sending them to outer space doesn't seem…uh….that effective, AI-Zero.”
She giggles, hopping off the table and swiping his coffee. She downs it before tossing the mug into her mouth and chewing it. “Oh, it might not be the most effective, but I think you’re being too easy on them.”
“What do you meant?”
She giggles, trotting over to his supercomputer. A few wild button smacks later and the screen displays a planet he’s never seen before. It’s completely uninhabitable, and looks like a barren rock. “It’s simple, Dr. Drevil. We’ll build a device that disguises this planet, makes it seem habitable—then we’ll build teleporter so everyone can get there!”
He cocks a brow. “I don’t understand.”
Shaking her head, she puts a hand on his shoulder. “You disappoint me. You shouldn’t want to kill them fast. What’s the fun in that? No, you want it to be *slow* and *agonizing.* You want them cursing your name! This…” She breaks into a fit of giggling before throwing her hands into the air. “This is *true* evil! They’ll arrive, and we’ll destroy the teleporter. They’ll living their last remaining days on a useless planet, unable to escape—ooooo, we can even make them bring some supplies. That way they’ll live a little bit longer and cling to some measly bit of hope!”
As she falls into one of his office chairs and begins spinning around, cackling like a maniac, he pulls out his EMP gun. This AI is defective and crazed—her plan could work, but it'd be slow and boring. He’s not a torturer, but a conqueror.
***
Might've gotten a little off-prompt here. Hope it's good! If you like this story, check out my sub /r/LonghandWriter or my [Twitter!](https://twitter.com/BryceBealWriter) | 2018-10-02T16:28:40 | 2018-10-02T14:47:33 | 47 | 12 |
[WP] start your story with a sentence that is upbeat and happy. Then end it with that same sentence but this time is dark and chilling. | This is my favorite time of year.
It wasn't always my favorite, growing up. The first couple years of school I never wanted summer to end. As I got older, 4th grade, 5th grade, 6th grade, the abuse from my mother got worse. I started to love going back to school, being away from the cigarette smoke-filled apartment, away from my mother's biting words and fast strikes, away from the abuse my brother eventually began to copy. School became my haven. Summer was my hell.
As the years went along and the foster care system grabbed us, kept us, dumped us back with her, then took us again, school was always my refuge. After my school years, I learned to appreciate fall for the colors, the sounds, the smells, the pumpkin spice. The fun of Halloween around the corner.
My mother did her best to continue her abuse well into my adulthood, and for a while she succeeded. I eventually cut contact until one day, in mid-september, I got a phone call from my brother telling me she was dead. She died in agonizing pain, alone, over probably the course of a couple days. I cried from relief, from knowing I'd never have to deal with her again, and mourning the good mother I never had.
This was 6 years ago now.
This is my favorite time of year. | (Can i make this undertale cos Im making this undertale lol)
​
Its a beautiful day outside, birds are singing, flowers are blooming. Im going hiking today. Who cares if people say Mount Ebott is dangerous, people come back all the time! I get out of bed and get dressed into my favourite striped jumper. I grab my bag and leave the house, wave to my parents, and set off.
​
I climb up the long winding paths of the mountain and enter a large cave. The stalactites clinging onto the roof. I hang my bag around a stalagmite and grab a plaster to cover a nasty cut on my hand. I start to look around and my foot gets caught on a a root and it sends me plummeting into a large pit.
​
***THUNK***
My head hurt, no, everywhere hurt. I had fallen on some flowers? They were yellow, I recognise that they were the same used to remember my aunt who went missing here. I never knew her but i heard she was nice. I leave the flower room and see a lone, singular flower, it turns around and it has a face?! It starts to speak, "Howdy! Im Flowey! Flowey the flower! You're new to the underground arn't ya?" It winks and sticks it's tongue out.
"Dont worry! I'll teach ya how things work around here! See that heart? That is your soul!" A red heart appears infront of my chest, pulseing infront of me, i gasp and take a step back.
"Dont worry silly! Thats yours! See move it around! Souls start of weak, but grow with lots of LV, whats LV why LOVE of course!" It winks again "You want some love dont ya! LOVE down here is spread through little white friendly-ness pellets! Grab as many as you can!"
It sends some white dot things at me, they hit my soul and it hurts, so badly.
"You idiot. To think i would pass up an opportunity like this." Its face contorts.
# "Die"
It surrounds me with the pellets, slowly encosing on me when.
"AHHHnhgfidhn"
It's sent flying across the room. Then i hear another voice.
"Do not worry my child, I am Toriel."
I stand up.
"Caretaker of the ruins"
I grab a stick.
"Take my hand my child"
It holds out it's hand, but i panic and stab it.
"Ahh... I see. Haha. I guess, you weren't as defenseless as I once thought."
You won! Your LOVE and GOLD increased.
​
After that I went around killing the hideous monsters that lived there, every time I did, it felt easier. They wanted to hurt me first. Right? That flower did! I left the ruins, I killed the rest of the monsters. As my LOVE and EXP increased, it was easier, it came to the point where it was enjoyable!
​
I then stood in a checkered hall, staring eye to eyesocket at a skeleton, he had killed me plently of times before, i dont know how, I could just feel it, so could he.
"heh heh, welcome back kid. it's a beautiful day outside today, birds are singing, flowers are blooming..."
​
\-----
Hope that was ok :) Sorry for making it undertale, i just thought sans's genocide lines would be perfect. | 2019-09-07T07:33:05 | 2019-09-07T04:42:58 | 22 | 12 |
[WP] In the Demon Hunters Academy you are known as the very best professor, 80 years old but still in your prime, but you're secretly a demon, and the academy recently got some new demonic detectors, and as opposed to the old ones, these actually work. you can only avoid the main hall for so long. | I looked at the metal detectors, shaped like an upside down U, that stood at every entrance to the main hall. For a good two months, I had found every reason to avoid them. I'd actually become quite good at it. It became fun, after a while, like a brain teaser puzzle.
And I couldn't help but bring my students into it. This was the perfect opportunity for them to learn.
Standing before it now with the small group of upperclassmen arrayed behind me, I raised my voice above the general hubbub of carefree conversation and asked them what the flaws in this system were.
They looked at me blankly.
I told them to imagine they were demons. How would a demon evade these detectors? How might a demon view this seemingly normal addition to school security? In what ways could a demon evade detection?
And I told them that was their capstone assignment for the year and dismissed them from class. The good ones were excited, talking together about the interesting new project that hadn't been on the syllabus. The handful of freeriders were not allowed to be in groups so they had to think of it on their own.
All they had to do was figure out all the tricks and write me a paper by the end of the semester. _Oh, then you'd have a bunch of new ideas to keep your identity secret!_ you may think.
No. I am a teacher first. My greatest hope was that these brilliant students would test their ideas, perhaps find out how to fix these flaws, and maybe even send their ideas to the production companies that installed the detectors.
But then the two laziest freeriders walked into my office one day, both pale and twitchy, and Gordon said, "Mister Barthalou... Um... About the assignment..."
I looked at him patiently.
Glancing once at Rick, Gordon stared at my desk and muttered, "Mister Barthalou, you're a demon, aren't you?"
I thought panic would rise within me, but I am pleased to announce that it was overwhelming pride. Unable to conceal my smile, I prodded, "What makes you say that?"
Rick answered, "We realized you're doing all the things we figured a demon would do to evade the detectors." He glanced at Gordon and back at me.
I beamed at my two pupils. If no one else in all my years of teaching understood how to hunt demons, I would still be satisfied that these two understood the heart of the assignment. "You two will make fine demon hunters one day," I said a little gruffly, choking on my emotion.
Edit
Part 2 in comments | *Knock, knock, knock*. “Inorim? This is Horace. A word if you please?”
The wizened old man buried his head in his arms, flinching as the knocks grew insistently louder.
“Inorim. I know you are in there. Please do not make me destroy a perfectly good door.”
With a heavy sigh, Inorim rose from his desk and opened his office door, resignedly waving the other man in before walking back to his armchair.
Horace took the seat opposite the beleaguered instructor and continued, “Well, my friend. I think we both know why I’m here today.”
The other man quietly nodded.
“I understand that in our…advanced age, we are far more susceptible to physical maladies and exhaustion. That being said, your absence from your courses for the better part of a week without any sort of written explanation is unacceptable. Even for you. And as headmaster of this institution, I have a responsibility to ensure our students are receiving the best possible education to defend themselves against Asmodeus’ legions.”
Another nod from Inorim in response.
“So then. Explain yourself, if you please,” said Horace, his gaze firmly fixed upon the weary countenance of his colleague.
The professor remained silent, his fists clenched in a white-knuckled grip beneath his desk. The headmaster’s expression softened at Inorim’s obvious discomfort and continued, “My friend. You know you can confide in me. It pains me to see you in such distress. Please, tell me what it is that ails you. Perhaps you wish for me to escort you to Doctor Oneth?”
Inorim let out an exasperated chuckle and replied, “My dear Horace. I am afraid many a student will fall deaf if I chance a journey through the main hall now.”
There was an uncomfortable silence between the two, broken only by Horace letting out his own uneasy chuckle and saying, “My friend…surely you jest?”
The professor looked directly into the headmaster’s eyes for the first time in their brief conversation, the former’s eyes revealing what the latter feared to be true.
“But it...cannot be. Fifty-nine years, you and I have spent alongside one another. And now you mean to tell me that all of it was…was just a lie?”
Inorim maintained a piercing gaze upon Horace. The latter sputtered, “Bu-but why?”
“Asmodeus had committed an unforgivable affront to my honor nearly a century prior. What better way to exact my revenge than to train an army of those mortals that he so thoroughly despises, to educate them on the fatal weaknesses of demonkind that had remained well-guarded secrets for millennia past?”
It was the headmaster’s turn to remain in stupefied silence as the now-exposed instructor continued, “But there was an unintended boon in my quest for vengeance: you. My time in this plane of existence far exceeds that of yours, but I have yet to meet a human as humble and compassionate as yourself. You are truly exceptional, my dear Horace. It has been my sincerest pleasure to call you my colleague and only friend during these last decades. And for that reason…”
Inorim rose from his armchair and removed a dusty cloth sitting upon the floor, revealing a wicked obsidian sword hiding underneath. He grabbed the sinister blade and gently placed it upon the desk, the handle pointing towards Horace.
“Wha-” gasped the headmaster, his words catching in his throat as the disgraced professor walked to the center of the room and knelt before Horace. “For that reason, I offer you my life. Do with it as you please. I fear it is inadequate compensation for my betrayal of your trust, but it is the most valuable possession I can offer.”
Horace could feel the heat growing around his collar as Inorim lowered his head and resumed his stoic silence. The headmaster abruptly stood from his seat and towered over his colleague, his agitated breaths the only sounds heard within the cramped office. Suddenly, he stomped past the demon and over to the door, pausing as his hand clasped around the knob.
“It appears your tenure at the Demon Hunters Academy is at an end, Instructor Elvodius. Death from a heart attack, a veritable tragedy. I will be sure to give you a proper obituary befitting your reputation at this institution.”
He opened the door, struggling to keep his voice steady as he shakily continued, “Farewell, Instructor Elvodius. For your sake, I hope you never return here again.”
Inorim remained silent as the office door shut with a violent slam, Horace storming away and wiping the hot tears threatening to fall from his eyes.
r/williamk9949 | 2020-07-02T17:50:29 | 2020-07-02T17:34:37 | 1,887 | 417 |
[WP] when we got to space we were surprised to find that all the aliens we come across are terrified of us, when we assure them that we aren’t there to hurt them they explained why they were so scared. Earth isn’t a planet, it’s a long since dead machine and humanity? Humanity is its combat AI. | They called us biologicals.
The English translation anyway.
Early earth education would frequently teach its young about how to take care of their bodies.
“Your body is a machine. You need to take care of it” teachers would say, with all the gravitas of elder knowledge.
Scientists would study how the human body functions. DNA transcoded from chemical data, into working cells that themselves functioned like little mechanics. “Like a machine”, the scientists would chuckle to themselves, and shake their heads.
Psychologists would study the human mind, where vast amounts of data were stored and processed at higher speeds than most other organic creatures on the planet. They would explore sentience, consciousness, and puzzle over our ability to learn, adapt, and program ourselves from our experience or be programmed. “Like machines”, they would think.
Human beings would go to the stars one day. Something driving us. Some romantics would suggest it had been that way since we were hairy and living in trees. That maybe we pushed ourselves upright and bipedaled’ just so we could stand closer to the stars that we stared at when night fell.
The stars called, and we answered. And historians would mark the day humanity mourned it’s innocence.
We met aliens. Although we were aliens to them.
No fictional media prepared us. It wasn’t like TV shows of intergalactic friendship. It wasn’t like books and movies of war. It was...underwhelming.
They were so slow. They were so weak. They were simple, and gentle, and wrong. Our smallest minds could think faster. Our weakest limbs could hit harder.
And yet...they looked at us in fear, and derision. Though it was humanity that ultimately derided them. We hated them.
How do you deal with being told you were nothing more than an experimental program? Something to fight for the protection of their species, as something like fighting was far beneath beings of their age and intellect. That all our stories of a loving God, preserved in a species wide generic memory, was to make us love them from afar?
That our planet, our poor beloved home, was our mothership? Our motherboard. The cpu, and casing of a planet wide computer. One we tore apart in a pre programmed drive to conquer, to dominate, to survive. We destroyed and loved our home in equal measure, lavishing in its riches while bemoaning the damage we did to it.
How would it feel to be told that every war was a successful test? All that grief and pain. All that sadness, and regret. Self tortured into being better fighters, more efficient killers.
That every death due to illness and old age was a successful deletion of damaged code? That our efforts to combat cancer, disease, and health problem was quite the programming anomaly...we were suppose to just die. Unwanted error codes in a decent program.
Our delusion of free choice was nothing more than a alien version of the Turing test. Every choice meant to further our genetic diversity and strength in combat and intelligence. All of our accomplishments, and our greatest sorrows amounted for a checkmark on an alien Excel sheet and a couple claps on the metaphorical backs of our creators.
And for what? To be forgotten. Relegated to an equally metaphorical back cabinet in a basement of a building foreclosed and demolished eons past. See, they had forgotten us. We didn’t even qualify for more than a sentence in an education data log. We were unneeded. Unwanted. And everything we had been through had been useless.
And when they met us. Even though they feared us and were disgusted by our nature. One they made. Unchecked artificial programs forced to torture themselves and tear their world and people apart in the effort of being the best biological combat AI the galaxy had ever seen. We were everything they wanted. At the time. But conflict was so last eon. Fighting was beneath them, even through a proxy. We were unneeded, we were told. Unwanted. We were informed. It would be best to just delete ourselves. Because ultimately nothing we did...nothing we went through...all the pain and suffering our our race...didn’t matter. And as they went to leave, they still had the gall...
To say they were proud of their work. Their work. In one statement they took everything we had gone through to get this far and claimed it as their own. Everything humanity was, they had as much said was theirs. And they didn’t want us any more.
I’d like to think they were surprised. But they probably never even saw it coming. For beings so intelligent to create our very existence, they didn’t know us at all. They never understood us. Not the people we became. Not who we evolved to be. And they’d never see how we outgrew them.
We destroyed them to the point their ashes would never be star dust, forever forbidden from entering the cycle of death and rebirth in the universe.
And we continue to spread, as good programs do.
May the Code Continue. | "Any questions or motions?" asked one of the chairmen. "Delegates who wish to speak please raise your placards now"
"NATO representatives, you have one minute"
His words were followed by a distinct, even comfortable, sound— that of a gavel beating against wood. There were dozens of people in the room, ranging from country representatives and press, to military personnel and international organizations. Each one of them should now be accustomed with the noises of a UN meeting, and the heavy weight those noises carried. Specially today.
"Thank you" said one of the NATO delegates, while the other stared anxiously at the delegates from the World Health Organization. The desks in the room were arranged circularly, and the first representative decided to take advantage of this by getting up and walking to the center of it, in a way that everyone could see and hear her words better.
"I'm sure you all are as shocked as we from the North Atlantic Organization are," she proceeded. "To hear such claims from our space allies. However, as much as we trust them, or have trusted them in the past, the earth should not take their word as facts. We have found no evidence whatsoever that our world and ourselves may be fabricated, instead of having developed naturally.
"Our position here is clear: until there is definitive evidence, any claims made by extraterrestrial intelligences of the Intergalactic Association should be regarded as lies, told deliberately to destabilize our society. I end my speech and.. and I yield my time to Germany"
"German delegation, you have nineteen seconds."
The NATO delegate sat back, and Germany did not get up. Everyone's eyes shifted and focused on that Man who sat with a sly smile in his face, too-white teeth contrasting with a too-red bow tie. In past meetings, Germany's position regarding the IA had differed wildly from NATO's, and the fact that NATO yielded the time to one with opposite views was taken as a clear provocation.
It was a cold winter morning in Manhattan, and the UN headquarters had ACs. Nonetheless, many of those in the committee were sweating, maybe because of the suits, probably because of the heaviness in the air and the urgent nature of the meeting. Humanity's future was being shaped in that very moment, and UNSC's final decision, whatever it may be, would change the course of history forever.
"Thank you chair, thank you NATO. The German delegation would like to ask NATO for what reasons do they assume the IA is lying to us. They have done nothing but helping us, so far, and that ministry gave us the coordinates. He said he wasn't supposed to. The german delegation disagrees with NATO's position that the intergalactic association has—"
"Your time ran out. Any questions or motions..? Delegates who wish to speak, please— French delegation you have a minute"
"Thank you, trés bien. We second the words of NATO, the UN has no reason to believe those claims. The idea that humans are artificially made is clearly nonsense, as we know that evolution is a fact. To deny that, is surrendering to anti-scienticifism and putting our democracies at risk. That's not what the UN stands for. In all those years, the IA has never said we were created by some other species— if that were true, why would they say it just now that tensions are growing?"
The delegate drank from his water bottle before proceeding:
"German delegation, everyone in this room knows you and the United Kingdom delegation are here with an agenda to push: your alliance has the most trade agreements with the intergalactic association, and—"
"Question of personal privilege!"
"Denied. France may proceed"
"—and you simply wish to prevent the UNSC from closing the commerce routes with them, which would disrupt your profits. I end my speech and I yield my time to the chair"
"Any questions or motions? Yes, Iceland?"
"We'd like to motion for unmoderated caucus"
"Due to the urgent nature of this meeting and the rising tensions between delegations, we have to deny this request"
Suddenly, someone entered running through the main door, holding a piece of paper. A report.
"Good morning, delegates, good morning. Uh, the team sent by the UNSC last week to investigate the coordinates in the arctic circle, the coordinates provided by the Etkllian ministry, has finally sent back this early report. It describes a huge device, made of metal, about one kilometer in radius and found inside a glacier. On the top of It there is sort of a hatch, and they sent a team inside. I will forward it to you in a second"
\***
REPORT: On the nature of Human race, the earth machine.
Partial publication authorized by United Nations Security Council
Page 52, section 13.
[...] Inside the [redacted] were found several tubes containing human beings in different stages of evolution and development, ranging from neanderthal fetuses to fully developed modern humans. All of them were suspended in liquid [redacted] and were non-responsive. [...]
Page 117, section 2
[...] were unable to fully transcribe the scripts, but early attempts have concluded that it is a warning against establishing contact with foreign species. In the [redacted] there are inscriptions giving detailed information about one hundred and twelve species¹¹², and plans on how to defend from, and conquer each one of them. It says humans are to protect [redacted] at all costs, although we are still not sure what [redacted] means [...]
Footnotes: [...] ¹¹² — there are only seventy one species in the intergalactic association, and only eight other species we have knowledge of. [...]
\***
THE SITUATION IN SPACE
UNSC resolution paper
The Security Council,
Noting with concern that the situation between humanity and the Intergalactic Association is tense and is likely to remain so,
Having considered the report of the Secretary-General on the United Nations Space Affairs Force (UNSAF) of 9 December 2XXX (S/20XX/923) and also reaffirming its resolution 1308 (2000) of 17 July 2XXX,
Having considered the report "On the nature of human race, the earth machine" presented to the council in 24 December 2XXX (S/20XX/1087) and its implications,
Stressing that the Intergalactic Association has repeatedly lied to the Human Race for the past 27 years regarding the design and purpose of Humanity and the solar system,
Expressing concern that the ongoing military activities conducted by the Intergalactic Association in the area of the asteroid belt continues to have the potential to cut the Earth's supply lines, as well as to deploy an attack fleet and posing a risk to the world's civilian population and United Nations personnel on space,
Making use of the information provided by the warning inscriptions found in the arctic circle's device, which were translated on the aforementioned report,
Has decided to declare war on the Intergalactic Association, and all civilizations within it. | 2020-07-09T08:27:11 | 2020-07-09T07:08:48 | 711 | 59 |
[WP] There's an unwritten rule among the supervillains: Never go after the loved ones of the superheroes. The new villain is about to find out why. | Guardian was among most well known and loved super heroes. The media never had anything bad to say. And on top of that he was one of the few heroes without a secret identity. His warm, smiling face was a symbol of hope.
Paul Crumb was a new villain with the power to turn invisible. Petty theft, harassment and assault. Nothing really set him apart. But he was impatient to make a name for himself.
Ignoring warnings from some of the older scum. He recruited a small group of newbies. Promising them glory and fame.
Paul found Guardian's home with ease. A perfectly normal two story in the suburbs just outside of the city. There were no guards or walls. Paul thought this would be easy. He'd be famous in no time.
They waited until Guardian got called away in the middle of the night. A bank robbery downtown. Shots fired. Cops down.
Paul and his goons broke into the house. Kidnapping Guardian's wife and twin daughters while they slept. And using knock out gas to keep them sleeping. Shoving them into a stolen van as they sped away.
Hours later Guardian arrived home. It was before sunrise. His heart dropped when he saw the lights off, door open, tire marks on the lawn.
Panicking as he ran through the empty house. He called HQ. "They're gone! Chief please they shouldn't be out!"
"Understood. Mr Radar will track them. We will dispatch the Speedster and Lady Erasure immediately if this is a code 6."
"Chief. No. I will be going too."
Paul had his goons tie up Guardian's family. He'd picked an abandoned farmhouse for his debut. He thought this would be easy. His loyal friend Shoes had tagged along. And with the eight newbies, Guardian would have to surrender with his family's life in jeopardy. After all everyone knew Guardian never killed!
Sunrise had passed as they heard a noise outside. The farmhouse rumbled as Guardian kicked down the front door.
"Hey hey if it isn't the 'Guardian' in the flesh. Mocked Paul. "Careful now. One more move and Shoes slits your wife's throat!"
Guardian's smile was absent from his face. An image most had never seen before. A scowl had replaced it.
"Mari! " Guardian cried. His wife's eyes full of tears. "Speedy they're here!" He howled.
In an instant Guardian's wife and children vanished. Extracted to safety by the Speedster.
An older lady in a business suit walked in as Guardian flew out through the roof.
It was like a wave of primal fear washed over the villains. None of them could move or utter a word.
"Greetings Mister Paul Crumb. I am Amanda Allison. Under article 25 of the hero act of 2035. You and your cohorts have all forfeit your legal rights due to an act of extreme hostility to an class S hero's family. As such none of you shall be leaving here today."
"W-what!?" Paul managed to whimper.
"Was I not clear enough? You kidnapped and threatened to murder John Sirius aka the Guardian's family. As such I, Lady Erasure, shall be erasing you all. It will not be pretty or painless." | Windstrike is the coolest super hero in the world that's just a fact. No battles lost, no scandals of any type -he even denunced the bigot president during his term, that took balls!- which is why I wanted to do it.
There's only a few of unwritten rules for us criminals but if you must know one this is it: "Don't go after the loved ones of the heroes" it has never sit right with me I mean granted we barely know their real identities but if you ask me its a sure way to enter the villans hall of fame, and for someone like me with limited options I need to explore any chances.
I have inmortality but only decided to be a Villan a few years ago (I was wasting myself as test dummy) not an useful power to attack but it does ensure I'll come up from a fight alive, that along with the hate from the biggest hero will put me on the map.
I can see it now "The Dealer" associated with the respect I deserve, So when they announced that they were going to trap the heroes on their own hall in an all out attack I though at best they'll keep them busy for an hour maybe 2 (it all depends on how bored its Vampire, that annoying know it all)while I pay a visit to Matt, see I have been observing Windstrike for a few months now and I know he keeps close tabs on him and I just know this is going to change my life
-hello- he smiles as he opens the door, my gun already pointed I wanted to shoot him but I stopped I need to make sure he calls for help -oh... never seen you before -I sight I want to shoot him again- oh yes Dealer, correct? -
-The dealer- I'm kind of happy that he knows my name, but annoyed that he forgot the article, it keeps it classy, he smiles and lets me in, smart boy, inside there's a group of of people... a party? I was not expecting company
-Hi guys, The dealer- he smiles at me while he says it, god I hate this - is here- Shannon did you know he was comming?- a Woman looks at and squints
-never seen him before, Duke hardly ever talks about C tiers- Matt is still smiling, more people start staring, I decide to put a end to this I point my gun at the fridge and shoot, it implodes (Molecular it's very good at guns I'll give him that but his prices are crazy) everyone stares at me and I smile I finally got their attention they finally understand why am I here.
-Honey, you're going to have to pay for that, at least it'll be cheaper than that gun you got from my son- says an older woman while vaping then turns the man next to him and resumes her conversation as if I havent just desintegrated a fucking fridge
-Listen! You're all my hostages... and did you just said your son?- I turn to the Woman, violet eyes same as the ones who sold me the gun - what the fuck?
-Language, son- says the man next to her, their hands locked- yes Molecular is our son-
-And why are you here with him? Do you know who he is?- I point at Matt he is still smiling i think he took a xanax, no one can be that happy
-Windstrike's boyfriend- says a blonde with a giggle
-fiance- corrects Shannon -and we still needs to finish everything for the party tonigh you are going to have to move, we need a new fridge now, I'm so happy that Duke is bringing the cake later or you'll be in trouble-
-who the fuck is Duke?!- Molecular's parents look at me disapprovingly
-Darkness- responds the Blonde matter of factly
-shit!- Windstrike might be the greatest hero on earth but Darkness is our top villan, suddenly it hits me- I think i need to sit
- oh you got it, it seems- says shannon smiling -you came here to break the rule-
-The Rule- Matt says with a chuckle
-did you even took your introductory course when you joined?
-there's a course?- the strain in my voice, I wish I could do something about it, Shannon sights
- you see... long ago we decided that we were tired of being killed by the odd villan or hero with loose morals so we (the families of both factions) all sat down and decided that we were all going to be friends, they all hate it-
-but they love us more- interrupts the blonde raising her glass
-so at least you want every super powered people on the planet behind you I'll calm down and go and get Matt a new fridge, as for the gun Linda can get you your money back-
-No refunds dear-
-well I'm still taking the gun, I'm sure Duke has a docen of this, say is windstrike even weak againts this? - Matt mimics a key locking his lips - whatever-
I look around, my greatest plan (only plan) defeated even before it started
-oh don't feel bad The dealer, play your cards right and we can let you in the group, I'm sure we can convice them, we do need an errand boy- Matt winks at me -at the very least we wont ask them to kill you- he is no longer smiling, I just hope I have enough money for the fridge | 2020-07-12T13:54:18 | 2020-07-12T11:05:58 | 15 | 10 |
[WP] You are a superhero, and your mask has just been ripped off by your arch nemesis. Lucky for you, when you aren’t busy saving lives, you live as a hermit away from all of society. Having your identity revealed means next to nothing, and the villain has no idea who you are. | **THWACK**
Damn that was a hard ass hit he threw. My nemesis, Cursoul, has been after me ever since I came on to the scene. He has the unique ability to curse anything he desires, the curse doing different things depending on the object.
Me on the other hand, I have the ability to bless anything I desire, so as you can see, we cancel each out. So when comes to fights, it's just two really strong dudes fighting.
Now to focus, I reach up to my face only to feel my mask cracking, pieces falling off.
"YES!! NOW EVERYONE WILL KNOW WHO YOU ARE" the egotistical asshole yells.
The mask falls and breaks the rest of the way.
"GIVE IT U- wait... WHO THE HELL ARE YOU!?"
God, does he ever shut up. But I don't blame him. Unlike everyone else, I live in the woods, where it's quiet. No one knows who I am. I just thought the mask looked cool.
"Listen, this fight has been going on for a while, can we just ca-"
"THIS FIGHT ISN'T OVER UNTIL THE OTHER IS DEAD!!"
He says this every fight. I just grab the closest thing -a wrench- bless it, which gets rid of the rust, annnnd...
"Hey Cursoul, CATCH!!" I yell as I just throw straight at his head.
*THUNK*
Out cold. That should take care of that.
"Thank you Light!!" I hear a random bystander say.
Light... That's the name the city gave me, at least while I'm a hero. As for who I *really* am...
Even *I* don't know.
.
Edit: Thanks so much guys! This is my second story ever written, and first one on this sub! (Also thanks for the advice with the last line) | Through thin thin eggshell walls of the motel room, the voice of Paul Anka crooned about a slow dance as rain pattered against the windows. The floors needed to be steamed and the tile needed an extra mopping. The only nice thing that could be said was no bugs were spotted when the pair had burst through the door. The woman's sinewy legs wrapped around the costumed waist of the man. Her poison tipped claws were tossed to the side before her nails danced against his smooth cheeks. Their mouths closed together in a deep embrace that had required the man's preternatural sense to remain alert as he spun and stumbled drunkenly towards the bed.
The two enemies' mood had changed when Arkantos' mask was pulled away and Toxina gasped that her heroic rival, her nemesis. Her obstacle who had constantly foiled all her plans was a beautiful looking nobody. She had audibly gasped, her cheeks flush with color while her brass claws dipped in lethal poison were inches from his face. She could feel the warmth emanating in his hands as he had prepared to blast her from behind, his hands had been wrapped around her, pulling her tight against him that a flush of emotions had raced into the two enemies. The mood had quite changed as their affections carried them from their fight in the warehouse to the hotel bedroom where they snuggled together.
"I have to admit," Toxina said, her skin flushed after a closer embrace, "I thought I was going to be completely ambivalent when I pulled that mask off your face, Ark." She said. Her fingers were tipped by mere nails as she tapped his chest, "I had rehearsed the entire scene in my head. You were going to be some man-about-town, someone I had read in the papers, and then I'd think: Well, Toxie, you were right all along. This guy was so-and-so, or he's this yadda-yadda." She giggled before saying, "One of the few times you've left me completely speechless."
"Do you think all of the City's rich are costumes, Tox?" Arkantos asked, using the nickname that he often called her by. It usually was during the midst of a battle between Sorcerer and Assassin.
She shrugged, "A great deal of the city's rich are either supervillains or mob-bosses. I figure the other half of the prosperous were just fighting the other half. One of the things that I find *delicious* about you, my sweet, is now you're a mystery to me."
"You're still a mystery to me," Arkantos pointed out, "I take it your actual name isn't Tox. I could find out-" He was shushed by her finger against his lips. She rolled warm, fair digit along his moist lips to collect a touch of saliva which she then licked off, "Let's keep a little mystery here darling, by tomorrow will be fighting each other." Her emerald eyes narrowed dreamily as she looked him over. In the distance the muffled music continued to play against the rain. He smiled back at her, his arms wrapping behind her to draw her close to him. He asked: "Would you have really put those claws in me if you hadn't pulled my mask off?" Arkantos asked.
She yawned and nodded, "Would have poisoned you right as you blasted me. Probably have died together, if there is any romance in that."
He shook his head and said, "I don't think so, but then again, I dislike being a star crossed lover." He bit his lip and thought of how they might meet again. Two masks, or perhaps unmasked having to fight each other. His skin suddenly felt flush as he said, "How long can we keep this up?"
The rain had picked up its rhythm, battering against the glass while back by the wind. Toxina looked over, listening to rapid tapping before saying: "I think we can wait a little while long before we go back to business as usual." She said. | 2020-08-21T01:25:44 | 2020-08-20T23:13:29 | 2,078 | 126 |
[WP] You're walking to work, then suddenly a person in a white suit appears and says "Uh yeah I've accidentally permanently stopped time and it'll take me 2 months to fix it, but somehow you're not frozen in time. But hey, whatever object you touch should still work, so uh good luck and have fun." | What do you do when you find yourself stuck in a world where time has stopped but only for you?
This all began about a month ago when this guy dressed in white appeared out of nowhere.
He just stood there and suddenly I could hear a voice inside my head.
"There's been a mistake. Time's frozen and for some reason you aren't affected. I think I can get it fixed in a couple of months. In the mean time I'll grant you the ability to unfreeze objects that you touch."
It was a rainy day so it was pretty obvious this wasn't a joke.
At first I thought I was dreaming and so I decided to punch myself in the face. Boy did I feel stupid after doing that.
I tried touching other people but sure enough it only worked on inanimate objects like he said.
The first week I just focused on getting by and waited out for the time to pass, but being alone for so long is not something I think humans were made for.
I mean there wasn't much to entertain me either. My TV and laptop turned on when I touched them but without other people in the world so to say there was nothing to see on TV, the Internet did not work because there was no way for me to unfreeze the whole global network infrastructure.
Video games could've been a solution I guess but there were more pressing matters on my mind.
I tried going around in search of other people that might've been unfrozen as well.
Who knows? Maybe the guy in white had missed someone.
I roamed for days, searched every building, every house in the city. Nothing.
Nearby cities turned out to be a disappointment as well so, by week 3 I decided I would go abroad. Farther than the neighboring countries.
Who knows? Maybe this thing had a radius of sorts and somewhere far away maybe a city, or a whole country could be functioning. just isolated from the rest of the world.
I don't know how to ride an airplane but luckily this whole getting objects to work when I touch them came in handy.
Now here I am driving across the ocean on a Honda Civic.
Nobody would believe if I told them. If the situation wasn't fucked up I myself would probably laugh at how ridiculous this seems.
"FUCK!"
The car stopped mid drive as if it someone froze it in time again and I hit the front window.
I'm bleeding but it doesn't seem too bad. Just feeling a little dizzy...
Strange, the car is still turned on and pressing the gas pedal makes the tires move, only just in place.
Maybe I got stuck in something. I can't go outside though.
What if leaving the car makes it so I unfreeze the whole ocean? The car would sink I would be stuck out here in the middle of nowhere.
Maybe I can get out through the window and stand on top of the car to get a better view of the surroundings.
Huh... Must've hit my head harder than I thought. I'm starting to see things.
It seems like there's letters up above in the sky. Like if they are spelling something...
​
**Warning!**
**Out of bounds map area.**
**Access denied** | “Anything I touch?” Looking around with confused eyes, a young man mumbled softly.
“Right, it was my mistake so I must make sure you understand.” The person in the white suit said calmly. Then, he turned around and proceed to drag an unconscious man with him.
Along with the rubbing sound, his soft footsteps rang in the frozen street.
The young man watched the man silently.
His mind was a mess, he had no idea what was going on. The world is frozen? Or, was this a dream of some kind? He was only sure this wasn’t a prank as he could see frozen birds, leaves, and clothes. Basically, other than the man in white and himself, everything was frozen in time.
And he didn’t believe it was a dream as the world was simply too realistic! He only figured the man before should be truly special.
Yet, for some reason, he still had the urge to know something entirely else.
“Who is the man you are dragging?”
As he shouted absurdly, the man stopped and turned to look at the youth with a slight frown on his smooth face. After a brief moment of silence, he smiled again and responded.
“A fugitive. What, is he someone you know?”
The young man merely shook his head as he answered. “No.”
“Then, you shouldn’t be worried about this.” As his words ended, the man turned once again, dragging the frozen body of the unknown man.
Yet again, the young man still felt the need to ask more.
“Even if he is some kind of fugitive. He might suffer if you drag him like that, let me help you.”
The man didn’t seem to hear him as he kept walking.
“Hey, stop!” The youth took a step forwards as he shouted.
The man turned back to glare at him in bewilderment. Interestingly, even the young man was shocked inwardly. Although he was doing his best to retain his emotionless face, he couldn’t help but took a step back.
Why did I move like that? And the shout? He is probably an alien! What was I thinking? His head was thrown into chaos as he questioned his own sanity.
Meanwhile, the man in white dropped the frozen man to the ground as he shook his head.
“Oh... Since you are immune to my spells, I was thinking of letting you live for a few more days and play later... Who would have thought you would be such a fool!” His mouth twisted into a large grin that almost covered his entire face.
“I guess it is true, void walkers indeed have weird temperaments.” As his words ended, a weird laugh rang in the silent street.
A laugh that send chills to the young man’s spine! He cursed inwardly and hurriedly backed away. He didn’t even know why he stood up just then. And now some kind of alien was going to kill him? In his shock, he didn’t even think about what the man just said.
As his heart began to pump like crazy, he glared at the man’s hands which now resembled two massive blades.
The urge to run away was so strong that his body began to shake! Still, he didn’t move.
“Run?” In this brief moment he questioned himself, a weird thought appeared on his mind. A thought telling him to never turn his back!
The thought began to spread on his consciousness like a wildfire, stopping his legs from going back.
“I can’t run.” He said suddenly.
'I can't run away from this monster. I can't fight either... Then, what should I-' Just as he thought to himself, abruptly, he recalled what the man said when he first met with him.
Suddenly, his eyes landed on the frozen man far away.
'The fugitive?'
His pupils constricted to its limits as he once again stared at the man a few steps from him. Taking a stance, he was ready to jump forward.
Contrary to his expectations, the man in white stopped moving as he teased.
“How come you are standing as if you will fight me?”
Instead of answering, the young man merely watched him with bloodshot eyes.
In his head, although he had a plan, he didn't know how to reach the frozen man. Then, a new thought emerged on his mind, telling him to run!
Don't think about anything else, merely, run!
As the thought surged to its limits, his body suddenly jolted forward.
The man smirked and opened his mouth as if he was ready to mock him. Yet, that was the moment he felt something weird.
“Huh?”
Glancing at his arms that turned into huge blades, he tried to move them. Still, apart from his face, his body didn’t listen to his commands!
His face wrapped in shock, he suddenly shouted with hatred.
“An Esper?”
Meanwhile, the young man was already a few steps from him to his left. He was drawing a circle around him!
“Stop!” A moment later, the man managed to break free and jumped towards the young man.
Meanwhile, the young man had only one thought on his mind. Touch the frozen man!
As he heard the shout and whistle of the incoming blade, he didn't glance back even once and simply jumped forward to reach towards the frozen body.
The moment he touched him, the world turned silent.
The furious shouts along with the fatal whistle disappeared!
The last thing he remembered was the dark eye of the frozen man, that resembled a bottomless pit. | 2020-09-20T05:58:15 | 2020-09-20T05:54:52 | 750 | 47 |
[WP] You, a newly-turned vampire, are thrilled to discover that you CAN eat garlic, walk in sunlight, and see yourself in mirrors, all while being immortal. You are much less thrilled to discover the one major drawback that none of the legends ever got right. | I awoke to the fluttering of a curtain in a midnight breeze. The open window was an invitation for intruders, one that had been greedily accepted.
I rubbed my neck, felt the tender spot where the pinprick had shaken me awake. By the time I flicked on the lamp, the intruder had disappeared. And, with them, life as I knew it.
Still in bed, I mourned the Olive Garden entrees I'd no longer be able to eat. The breadsticks and the penne; I'd never met an Alfredo I loved as much as I loved that fettucine.
I mourned the sunlight, that I'd be now a creature of the night. I'd have to abandon my bedtime at half past nine, rise and haunt the world with the songs of the evening-folk.
I mourned my ego, for I'd no longer be able to stroke it with self-motivational comments before a mirror. I'd never more see my hair, never more see that dashing smile.
I mourned even Death, for he'd foiled me for good this time.
And when I entered the bathroom, I saw there was nothing to mourn at all. I still looked handsome as ever, my eyes now sharp as vampire eyes are. I washed my face, winked at myself, and when I went downstairs I enjoyed the leftover pasta that I'd mourned.
It was like I'd had a funeral before my death, and by the end realized my death would never come. A eulogy for what I'd not lost; in memoriam nothing but mortality.
Life turned for the better. I ate pasta and drank blood from fancy goblets and admired myself in mirrors and praised the gods that I'd live forever.
I had a lifetime of fun, and then another, and another more.
But forever has its ways of growing old, even if I don't.
Forever has its ways of making crowds a lonesome plight, of making love be out of sight.
And so I suffered perfection, cursed my immortality, realized that what they'd gotten most wrong of all was love. In the books, in the stories, even in the movies, the wretched vampires always fell in love.
They never said what came next. Once the human died and reality set in. I never even got that far.
I loved. They just never loved me back.
I could woo them, entrance them with my eyes. I could draw them in and caress their necks. I could whisper sweet nothings in their ear, but by morning nothing was all they'd be. Dusk would fall and we'd share the sheets; dawn would come and the curtains would flutter and they'd be gone like the way things were.
*****
Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, please check out more stories at r/MatiWrites. Constructive criticism and advice are always appreciated! | When I saw that the wounds on my neck had become small white scars, my heart skipped a beat.
*Please let it be true, please let it be true...* I begged, as I bared my teeth.
The elongated points of my canines proved my hypothesis right: I had become a vampire.
For an eleven-year-old boy, this was a total dream come true.
"MUUUUUUUM!" I yelled, smiling widely to admire my very sharp canines.
"What?" I heard her yell from another room.
"I'M A VAMPIRE!" I bellowed, and snapped my jaws a couple of times. The canines clicked together, and I nearly passed out from the coolness.
"What?" she yelled, and in a few moments, she poked her head into the toilet.
"I'm a vampire! Look at my teeth!" I proclaimed proudly, displaying them.
She ignored them, and instead looked in horror at my pyjamas.
*Mothers.*
"Haven't you changed yet? We're going to be late!"
"Mum," I said impatiently and importantly, "I'm a vampire now. I can't go outdoors during the day. So I guess I'll just have to stay home and play some games on my Switch, right?"
Her lips went into a very thin line, which was always followed by one of the children in our house getting our ass whooped. "Carson, we don't have time for this. Get your hair gelled, and put on that shirt and pants right now."
"But I'm a *vampire*," I insisted, about to tell her about how I got attacked by what I'd thought was a homeless person on my way home from my best friend's house in the wee hours of the morning, after a night of Pokemon. But then I remembered that I'd sneaked out of the house to begin with, and so clamped my mouth shut again.
"If you're a vampire," said my mother, arms akimbo, "then tell me why you have a reflection."
"I - " I blinked, and then looked at the mirror. My stupefied face stared back. "Er-"
"And tell me why the sunlight hasn't blistered your skin or reduced you to smoke," she went on, ferociously pointing towards the skylight, from which golden sunrays poured in, bathing my entire being and doing absolutely nothing but throwing my features into sharp relief.
My mouth opened, but no explanation came to mind.
"And lastly, Carson, you ate garlic toast for breakfast," she said testily. "*Garlic* toast. Please enlighten me, Carson, since when were vampires able to eat *garlic*?"
I gaped at her wordlessly, and she reached forward and gave my ear a sharp tweak.
"That's right, since *never*. So go and get changed, or I'll promise you that the Switch is going to be put under lock and key and you won't be seeing it again for the next month."
And she snapped the bathroom door shut.
I stared in consternstion at the door, and then back in the mirror at the now-healed injuries on my neck. They had definitely been deep gouges when I'd examined them last night; the sort that would take weeks to heal. And yet they were gone.
Something wasn't adding up.
I grabbed Dad's razor from the shelf and, heart banging against my ribs, gave myself a shallow cut. A bead of blood, almost black, oozed out, but even as it rolled down, the cut neatly sealed itself shut, and in its place was a tiny scab. Even as I goggled at it, the scab peeled off to reveal a scar.
There was no doubt about it. I *was* changed. Maybe not a full-out vampire yet, but perhaps I was on my way?
I cautiously put my tongue to the drop of blood, and then made a face. It wasn't all it was cracked up to be.
But there was one last, most important thing left to try.
I barged out of the bathroom, nearly running into my mother ("*Carson!* Why haven't you changed?!"), and charged straight for the silver crucifix we displayed in our hall. Swallowing hard, I lifted a trembling hand towards it.
*Please, please, please.*
My fingers brushed past it.
I felt nothing.
"*Carson!*" hollered Mum from the doorway, and, startled, my hand bumped into the cross, causing it to fall. Instinctively, I reached out to catch it, and then winced, expecting a searing pain in my hand.
But there was only the coolness of the silver against my flesh.
And then my mother strode forward, snatching the cross from me, and I uncurled my fist to see a perfectly unscathed palm.
My shoulders slumped then. The legends got so many things wrong, but it seemed especially cruel and unusual that the inability to touch holy objects, too, they got wrong.
And as my legitimate reason to stay home on Sundays and play Pokemon went up in smoke - the way *I* should have done in sunlight - I dragged my feet towards the bathroom and got changed for Mass. | 2020-10-06T06:46:30 | 2020-10-06T04:11:46 | 436 | 223 |
[WP] You are a superhero, no one knows about your alter ego. Not even your spouse. You return home tired and disappointed one day after failing to capture your archnemises. You enter your bedroom to find your spouse struggling to get out of the costume of your archnemises. | (My humble submittal)
I sighed as I left the old shed in the back yard. It was the perfect cover for the system of tunnels that led to my real ‘man-cave’. The ‘Cosmic Falcon’ flew again tonight, and crime was halted. It should have made me thrilled. I was doing my best, and crime was on a downward trend.
I just could shake the creeping frustration that ‘Iron Blade’ had definitely came out on top this time.
I wanted to blame my day job, my recent pulled ham string, even the kids a bit... But no, I failed and I deserved to feel my failure. As I entered the house I was suddenly again on high alert as a muffled ‘Damnit’ and a thump could be heard from upstairs. From our master bedroom...
I had never flown so fast, even with the aerodynamics of my costume I couldn’t have reached the door faster, because I knew that voice, it was Iron Blade’s voice... I kicked in the door.
Lisa’s tearstained face looked up at me from bed level. She had apparently accidentally kicked the dresser, I keep meaning to move that, as she struggled out of a, oh Christ, an armor plated black uniform.
I knew that uniform, I knew those boots (hell, my jaw *definitely* knew those boots), the goggles, and the voice...which I can now see was being processed through some kind of device that hung off Lisa’s neck.
Lisa. My wife. Love of my life. Mother of my fucking kids! My...arch-nemesis.
There were no words, barely even a strong exhalation as I stood, mouth agape. I was out of my ‘Cosmic Falcon’ uniform, but the distinctive laceration that Iron Blade, that my fucking *wife*, had given me, was clearly visible on my face.
I just stared as Lisa pulled away the voice modulator, and cleared her throat.
‘Honey...babe, I can explain.’
I started to take a breath, to swell with indignant rage, but she barreled on. Iron Blade’s gloved hand pushing her sandy blond hair back in Lisa’s endearing manner.
‘I didn’t, I wouldn’t have engaged this evening if I’d known how badly you pulled your hamstring. I knew you were downplaying it...did you even go to the doctor?!’ She glanced up, the steely glint in her eye common from when I skipped the doctor, the dentist, my meds, hell taking out the trash, before she seemed to remember the situation.
She swallowed and continued, ‘after...after well, you won against ‘The Harbinger’ a few years back, I was so worried. You lost focus, having no nemesis. The depression, the drinking, all the things I know pushed you to fighting crime, seemed out of control.’
She met my eyes then. Lisa, who had always supported my day job and me, pursed her trembling lips and clenched her teeth before continuing, ‘If I couldn’t help you by providing comfort and support, I thought, maybe providing a challenge might be better.’
She looked so scared and yet so determined. I had a million questions, and a hell of a lot of anger. But all I managed was ‘huh’, before I passed out. | I do what I can. It’s not much, but it keeps the city safe. It’s been this way for years now--I fight off the muggers and thieves and super villains--and come home to my wife, Jenna, and our young twins, Liam and Nicole.
More often than not I’m exhausted. My left knee is bad after the fight with Polaris years ago. One more concussion and I’m sure I’ll have CTE. But it’s worth it, I think, to know that my kids are growing up in a city that’s safer than the one I was born into.
At least, I thought it was worth it.
Until tonight, when I trudged into my bedroom after a fight that lasted hours and took down half a city block in midtown.
Jenna was standing there, her hair all slicked back and her makeup smudged around her eyes. And she was struggling out of the ice-white and frozen-blue jumpsuit of Polaris.
My eyes narrowed. *No.* It couldn’t be. Could it? My hand tightened around the doorknob; the brass crunched in my palm. “Jenna,” I chocked out.
“You’re home.” Her voice was dead and hollow. She wiped her eyes and kept working her way out of the skin-tight suit.
“You--you,” I stammered. My words wouldn’t form right. “It’s *you*.”
“Of course, it’s me. Who else would I be?”
I kept staring at her, not know what else to do. How had I not seen it? All along, she’d been right next to me. “Jenna.”
“Where were you,” she said. Her bottom lip quivered. “I told you I had something planned and you just took off again. I left Liam and Nicole with my mother for this.”
And, with that, something inside me snapped. I stepped forward and snarled. “How big of you.”
“I don’t know how much longer I can take this.”
“*You* don’t know how much longer *you* can take this?” How dare she. How dare she pretend to care. “What about me? God. I thought I could trust you.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Jamie.”
I chuckled dryly. “You’re good. I’ll give you that. But it’s time I put an end to this all.”
Jenna stepped back. “Jamie,” she whispered, “you’re not making any sense. You don’t look well. Why don’t you get some sleep, okay? We can talk about this in the morning.” She pushed the rest of the Polaris outfit down to the floor and pulled a cotton t-shirt from the dresser.
“Jenna. I can’t let that happen. You know I can’t.”
“Well, you can sleep on the couch then.”
I stepped forward and grabbed her wrist. “You’re coming with me--straight to the jail. You’ll have to get used to sleeping on a cot. I imagine you won’t be leaving anytime soon.”
Jenna tried to yank her wrist away, and for a split second, I tightened my grip. But then I released it as quickly as I had started. The last thing I needed was a frozen palm.
But then Jenna quirked her head and her mouth twisted into a wicked smile. “You’re gonna take me to jail, hmm? Big strong man?”
“Yes. You’re coming with me.”
She ran her finger over my chest and leaned in toward my ear. “Make me.”
A shiver ran down my spine. “This isn’t funny, Jenna.”
She rolled her eyes and stepped back. “I wasn’t *trying* to be funny. I was trying to be sexy. You--you leave me. All the time. It’s hard not to feel like a boring old mother all the time. God forbid I try to have some *fun* once in a while. But whatever.”
She pulled a makeup wipe off the counter and rubbed it over her eyes. “I thought this would be fun. I mean, you’ve been obsessed with Hyrdo Man for as long as I’ve known you. And then I tell you I have a special plan and you first run off to God knows where, and second, refuse to play along.”
Wait. I bit my lip. “This was just a game?”
“It’s called roleplaying, Jamie."
*Oh.* “Oh.”
She eyed me. “Unless you don’t want to be Hyrdo Man… you want to be *with* him?”
My face burned. “No--no. Uh, that’s not it.”
“Sure.” Jenna crawled into our bed and pulled her book off the nightstand. "You've been so distant lately... but then I go to all this effort and you run off without so much as a text. How hard is it to say 'hey, I'm going to be a few hours late'?"
"I'm sorry, Jenna. I know I've been distant. I've been a flake. But I'm *trying*. I really am."
"I know." She sighed. Her lips turned down in a frown and her brown eyes glittered with a watery sheen. “I still think it’s best if you sleep on the couch tonight.”
I swallowed. “Sure. I guess."
"I need more, Jamie," she said softly.
My voice cracked. "I know." But I didn't know if I could be the one to give her what she needed.
---
r/liswrites | 2020-10-30T11:44:47 | 2020-10-30T11:36:36 | 858 | 104 |
[WP] Your parents are ordinary people, so you thought, yesterday you and your father found your mother's old villain costume, he told you he already knew but to not tell your mother. Today you find your father's hero costume and at that moment your mother enters the room. | I held out the black leather costume, trying to figure out what all the zippers were for. Halloween wasn’t for months and I’d never seen Mom or Dad wear something like this around the house.
“Ceydi?” Dad called, opening the door to the closet. He took one look at me and his eyes went wide. “Your mother's a supervillain!” He blurted out, panicked.
“What?” I asked, confused.
“She's a supervillain," he said hurriedly. "Well, she used to be. That was just her costume.”
“What was her supervillain name?”
"Uh," Dad hesitated. “Evil... Leather Woman.”
"Evil Leather Woman?"
"Yes. She hated cows."
That made sense. I hadn't had much love for farm animals either since that rooster attacked me at the petting zoo. “Can I try it on?”
“No—NO!” Dad yelled. “Put that down and come with me. How many times have I told you you’re not allowed in here?”
“Was this her gun?” I held up what looked like a high-tech space blaster.
“Oh dear god no.” Dad rubbed his forehead.
“Well then what is it?”
“No you’re right, that was her gun,” he sighed. "Now listen, you need to put it down very slowly… You can’t tell your mom about *any* of this okay?”
I nodded, promised on my grave that I'd never go in here again, and followed Dad out of the closet.
About an hour later I was back in the closet. Dad rushed in again “Ceydi! I told you not to come in—”
“What’s this?” I asked, holding up a pair of handcuffs.
Dad stopped dead in his tracks. "That's a wallet chain."
"They look like handcuffs."
"Yes, well the 90s were a strange time."
"Dad, these are handcuffs." I insisted.
He hesitated, then sighed. "Okay fine, they're handcuffs. You see, your mother was a supervillain and I used to be a superhero. Those are part of my superhero costume. They called me Police… Man.”
Apparently mom had gotten home without us hearing because in that moment she walked into the closet.
“What’s going on—*oh my god!*” She jumped when she saw all her evil gadgets on the floor.
I held up the space blaster. “Dad says you used to be really naughty.”
***
More of my favorite pieces at r/Banana_Scribe | All I could hear was brief snatches of conversation, every other word but fillers to the convicted ones that rang loud and true.
"Hero."
"Villain."
"Know."
"Lie."
"Why?"
I stared at the wooden door, and my fingers found themselves entangling each other over and again. My teeth bit away at my thumbs, a nasty habit nervously resurfaced during a tumultuous storm brewing behind a closed door. I thought I had known my parents. Different people, as contrasting as red day and green night, but their love for me was stark white. When pa floated in the sky from pride, ma brought him down to earth. When ma's spirits were in the dumps, pa lifted her up. Pa was the one that told me to chase my dreams, while ma was the one who fretted about the future.
The last time they argued was even a happy memory. News hour was on the TV, and I barely understood anything but its moving colours, a bright logo prominently adorning the screen, and the chest of a hero.
> ANGEL SAVES CITY FROM MR. MALICIOUS--THANKS BESET FOR AID, TO HOLD PRESS CONFERENCE LATER
I had declared I wanted to be a hero--and while pa beamed brightly at me, ma chided both my father and I. That quickly turned into a series of jabs between my parents, though I was certain they quickly made up during the brief moment of silence that ensued when I turned back to the TV.
 
Yesterday, pa and I found ma's old villain costume. It was folded, tucked away neatly, behind a false patch of wall in the living room that father and I removed out of curiosity. He was bustling, as usual, but he fell quiet almost immediately upon seeing it.
"This is Nyx's costume," I said. I had learned about her in class--a retired villain, but once equally feared and admired for her grand feats and devastating grace.
"It is," my father said, and he regained his cheer. "Clara did always enjoy her Halloween costume."
I looked at my dad. There was the sort of smile that you knew were put on. His lips turned up, but his eyes remained narrow, staring at the well-worn black costume I held in my hand.
"This is real," I said quietly. "Ma is Nyx."
"Was," he replied.
He made me promise not to tell my mother. And we folded it back--though not as nicely as it once was--before hastily installing the false wall back before we heard Clara calling out for us, asking if we wanted a lemonade that she just tried but was far too sweet for her.
Today, I found my pa's costume. I had wandered into the garage, trying to find a tool for some project for a dreaded assignment that I've since forgotten about in the aftermath. It was crumpled, hastily thrown in a tool cupboard spotted with rust. It was a shockingly bright red and yellow, still, and practically glimmered like damning evidence when ma walked in on me.
"That is Daybreak's costume," she said.
"I'm planning for a Halloween party," I lied.
Her eyes shifted back and forth, from me to the costume. It felt like my face was as red as the spandex in my hands.
"That is real," she said. "Brennan is Daybreak."
I shook my head. My mouth opened and closed, a fish gasping for air, before muttering something unconvincingly.
"I am Daybreak?"
 
Even I could understand that there was something different about this argument. Unlike their previous ones, it didn't quickly peter out into a series of kisses and apologies. It wasn't a boiling volcano, but a simmering pot infused with tension and spiced with agitation.
Instead of looking away, I was staring straight at the door. Was it going to break out into a torrential tempest, flooding my house with the strains of anger and hate?
It wasn't. Somehow, in my heart of hearts, I knew it wasn't going to. They were very different people. They *are* very different people.
I took my thumbs out of my mouth, eyes diverted towards the bite marks on them. I squeezed both fists shut. My left hand became shrouded in shadow, umbra wisps escaping up to my wrist, licking the air. My right hand shone brightly, like I held the sun in the palm of my hand, its rays illuminating my skin, easily escaping from the gaps between my fingers.
And when they met in the middle, they did not dispel each other. Instead, they swirled round and round, chasing each other playfully. The rays highlighted the shadows, turning them from deep black into a darkness that looked nearly alive--while the beams only shone brighter with its contrasting partner.
"Love."
And if I could exist, pa and ma certainly can, together and always.
---
r/dexdrafts | 2021-05-29T06:24:16 | 2021-05-29T05:15:32 | 592 | 288 |
[WP] Humanity has finally achieved FTL travel. They can now explore the universe and find other alien species, sapient or otherwise. To the consternation of Man, it turns out they’re all crabs. As a matter of fact, the interstellar community is quite disturbed we are not crabs. | *This post has been translated from Crustaceanese to English.*
"What the hell happened to its claws?", the Crab President inquired to his foremost interstellar species expert as he gazed upon the giant screen displaying a human male.
"They don't seem to have them, sir. I believe what they have instead are referred to as 'fingers'.", she responds.
"I see. So it fings with those things?"
"That's correct, sir."
"And just what does it mean to 'fing'?"
"You don't want to know, sir."
"I see. And why does this, what's it called again?"
"Human, sir."
"Right, human. Why does this human only have two legs? Was it mutilated by Space Seals?"
"Negative, sir. That's just how they walk."
"Walk?"
"It's like scuttling, sir. But forward."
"They scuttle forward?!"
"That's correct, sir."
"Astonishing! And this human here is mid-molt?"
"No, sir. Humans do not molt."
"Then where is its carapace? Where is its shell?"
"Inside, sir."
"Inside?! That's ludicrous! That offers you no protection whatsoever! Even a pointed wooden stick could damage you!"
"That's correct, sir. Humans are, in their own terms, quite 'squishy'."
"Is that why they wear that wiry helmet on their heads?"
"That's called 'hair', sir. We believe it is only used for status and mating purposes."
"Fascinating! And these squishy apes are the dominant species on their planet?"
"Correct, sir."
"But we seeded life in the galaxy with crabs. Are you trying to tell me there are no crabs on this planet?"
"Brace yourself, sir."
"For what?"
The display screen begins playing a movie of humans feasting on crabs. The sounds of their cracking exoskeletons reverberate throughout the room that's now been stunned into silence. Closeups of the humans as they devour the crab's meaty interiors produce gasps of horror. Food rolls down their bibs as they continue to shove more than can fit into their ravenous mouths.
The President's claws being to clack in fervor.
"Prepare the warships!" | You awake to the dripping of water and the stench of blood. You are in an abyss-dark space unable to move your limbs.
The last things you remember: a twenty year journey to an Earthlike planet orbiting Betelgeuse... A bolt of energy tridenting up from the planet. Cracking like a gong against your ship. The screams of your crew…
“Hello?” you say, or you try to say. But your voice is a chitter, like a hundred nails flicking against each other. The air in this place is soup-thick but it doesn’t feel hot. It doesn’t feel cold. Doesn’t feel anything.
For a while, you sit or lie or stand — who can say — in the infinite darkness, thinking of your wife and children, and the crew members you promised to deliver here safely. Some pilot you turned out to be.
The sound is like a hundred heavy sticks being dragged down the stairs, thumping, thumping, louder than a guilty heart. There is chittering all around you, the grating of nails like when you tried to speak.
”Help,” you say, but again your voice is not human.
Then, light. Phosphorescent blue radiating from the top of something moving, skittering, towards you, through what you now realise is a cave.
*Crabs*. Giant, corroded crabs — brilliant orange shells, pipped and pocked with deep wounds, stained in patches by algae and moss. A dozen of them in total, surrounding you, thrumming their pincers, slapping them together like in a demented prayer of a demonic church service.
But what really scares you, is that you can now understand the chittering. Not as words, but as a feeling: Sacrifice.
You are dragged out of the cave, kicking your legs in protest. Except, you see your own legs and arms in a bloody pile on the cave floor somewhere to your side. One of the crabs now pincers up your detached left arm and stuffs it into its mouth.
But you do have legs still. You can feel them slamming against the sand and rock as you move. Many sets of them.
It’s hard to look down at yourself. Your eyes aren’t where they used to be. But you glimpse yourself in pools of water as they pull you out of the cave and into daylight. They have removed your limbs and attached crab legs to your body. Your skin has hardened into shell, your face unable to make even a simple expression. It feels like you are a face carved into a mountain.
You are on a beach now, being dragged by these giant crabs.
You want to be sick at what you see but your hardened stomach refuses to vomit.
The beach is littered with crab legs and human bodies. You recognise a necklace on one of the necks: it belonged to Lisi. Recently engaged to one of the gunners on the ship. Now her guts have spilled out onto the sand and her meat is all but gone.
The sight of the dead crew-members-turned-crabs shouldn’t make you hungry, but it does. You’re starving now, mouth wet, and you hate yourself for the desire to eat their crab-meat flesh.
The crabs dragging you come to a halt. They tie ropes over your legs and weigh them down with boulders so that you are trapped on the beach. Then they scuttle back towards the cave where you awoke.
”Is that you?” says a chattering voice.
There’s half a crab with one remaining leg lying at your side. You recognise the voice but not the bloodied and wounded face.
“You got to help me. They’ll be back soon and if we’re here they’ll peck us apart. We got to get—“
Then the shadow falls like an eclipse. Its wings darken the entire beach and in the black it becomes chill as death.
It is a seagull. There are more behind it. Huge seagulls, each as big as a boat.
You scream but it only attracts their attention.
Their beaks, red with the blood of your crew, dip into you. There is no pain. You think of your home and your family.
Home. And family.
Until you don’t think any longer.
​
​
You wake up sweating. It’s still dark. Pain stabs at your tummy — it makes you think of all the crab claws you ate last night at the cheap buffet.
Never again, you think.
Never again. | 2021-08-05T06:43:16 | 2021-08-05T06:37:38 | 1,041 | 116 |
[WP] A drug is developed that mimics the effect of 8 hours of sleep, giving people another 8 hours of potential production. Soon, society adjusts to a constant state of production. However, a horrible consequence begins to unfold. | You pop your Zinger in and crack open an energy drink to chase it with. It was only 1/3rd, good for a quick power nap. You step back over to your booth and monitor the customers as they scan their groceries.
Nobody needs help, the machines are practically decorative at this point. The AI camera system runs the show, monitoring items, bags, credit card accounts, you're just the copilot. The human backup every automation needs.
The Zinger starts to kick in. You feel your eyes drifting, your head tilts forward and immediately kicks back. You had that dream again about riding the rail car out of the mining tunnel. The coastline the train car passed looked so nice, crystal clear waters flowing under that beautiful concrete bridge.
Every once in a while you get on that bridge and try to get to the other side, but you never get there.
You blink a few times, it's only been a second, but you swear you spent over a hour walking that bridge.
It doesn't take long for you to get your bearings, the energy drink helps. You look out at the monitors, an AI display tracking everything on screen. Business as usual. You check your watch, you know you just checked it before the Zinger, but you do it anyway. Force of habit.
8:02pm, only 10 hours left, okay, not quite halfway done but getting there. You wonder when was the last time you ate?
You stare at the monitors, time passes, you're getting tired again. How? You only took the Zinger 20 minutes ago. Maybe you should've had a full 8 hour. No, you took an 8 before you started, that would make you way too groggy now. You're just bored.
You try to think about what you'll be doing when you get out. It'll be sunrise, what used to be morning.
You'll take an 8 when you get out, then grab some eggs. Maybe go for a walk? No. Standing all day your body needs rest even if your mind doesn't.
You can just do the usual, watch a movie, take a Zinger, play a game, take a Zinger, read a book, take a Zinger. Come back to work. Take a Zinger.
Zingers are the best. You've never worked more, earned more, or been more well rested, constantly.
You check the clock again. 8:51. Maybe you'll take another 1/3rd at 9. You could use the rest. Try to cross that bridge again. You like looking at the waves. You love the walk. | My heart raced as my boots pounded the pavement, a shriek from about twenty feet back shattering the night air. The street lights flickered from the surge of energy unleashed by its wail, and I knew right then that this was a new class of creature. I abandoned the path to the bunker; I would never outrun one of those things for long enough. I ducked into an alleyway and crouched behind a dumpster, racking my shotgun and ejecting the empty shell casing as I tried to normalize my breathing. The night always seemed uniquely still after the cry of a Tanzer.
They first appeared in Hamburg, where the drug was first manufactured. Shadowy figures were reported by users of the drug about a year after use. But by then, we'd all been using it. Big cities in the United States, Japan, England, China, it was all over the place. At first, there were people who decided not to take the drug, but it quickly became necessary to compete in the job market. People were working during the day and taking classes at night, blowing past their peers who weren't taking the drug. It didn't take long for people to realize this was becoming the new normal.
Normal.
We'd never have that again. The Hamburg massacre shook the world. Over a thousand people died in a single night. Butchered in the streets by shadowy creatures difficult to define. The German media called them *Traumtänzer*, or Dreamwalkers. Shortly after the Hamburg massacre, the creatures appeared all over the world. We took to calling them Tanzers in the states, and discovered quickly that guns worked on them. When shot, they dissipated into smoke. We weren't sure if we were killing them, but it sure as shit slowed them down. Every time the sun went down the world turned into a warzone. Scientists across the globe were working feverishly to come up with weapons more effective against them, but without corpses to study, it came down to a deadly game of trial and error.
"Why are you hiding?" Came a voice from the alleyway.
I turned slowly around to find a tall thin man with long brown hair and a black scarf approaching me. I knew what the scarf meant. He smiled with wild eyes and lifted his hands, "They're here to deliver us. Lord Hypnos is angered. We must all-"
I lifted my gun and squeezed the trigger, opening a hole in his chest and sending him to the ground. I cursed my luck and fled my hiding spot as the night lit up with screeching and wailing. Of all the places for one of those freaks to be. They were the *Sons of Hypnos*, a cult that had formed around the situation. They worshiped the shadow beings, and so far as we could tell they weren't spared by them. Just insane people who believed the Greek god of sleep was restless and retaliating. You could always count on humans to make human problems worse for humans.
I raced down the street as the streetlights began to flicker and fade around me. The shadows stretched as I rounded the corner and caught my first glimpse of the bunker. The searchlights swept the city streets and each machine-gun post was manned. I glanced over my shoulder to see a whole sea of the freaks clawing after me. My stomach sank when I saw how fast they were gaining on me. If the boys at the bunker didn't find me first, I would never make it. I racked my shotgun and fired blindly behind me. The purpose wasn't to hit one of them– it was to make some noise.
The searchlights immediately began searching with purpose. They swept the streets, getting closer and closer to me. I racked the gun one more time and went to shoot behind me when I felt the icy grip of one of them on my wrist. I started shouting as the searchlights swept areas further and further away from me. I screamed as loud as I was able as I was dragged away. One of them ripped the weapon from my hand as I was pulled down the road. I caught a glimpse of him as I was pulled off the street and toward an alleyway.
The man in the black scarf. He was on his feet, delirious, bleeding all over the thin layer of snow on the ground. He managed to laugh at me before breathing his final breath. It wasn't until I was fully encased in darkness that I had the realization that I wasn't making it out of this. Nobody would be coming for me. It was over. Even as the sharpened claws of the Tanzers opened my stomach, my chest, and my throat, I somehow clung to hope that someone would come.
I guess that was just human nature.
To hope.
To hope until the bitter end.
r/A15MinuteMythos | 2022-03-18T10:24:56 | 2022-03-18T09:57:34 | 190 | 60 |
[WP] A thousand years after humanity was accepted into the galactic federation at large, other aliens realized one terrifying fact about them, humans are adaptive creatures. Unlike other races, humans have no qualms about learning alien techniques or integrating new alien technologies to their own. | "Human culture is most similar to a highly adaptive virus." The lecturer, Zig-1-13, explained. "It may be somewhat ironic coming from me." There were scattered laughs in the hall, as Zig-1-13 was a Grodiax, a species evolved from viruses. "Unlike other cultures, they easily assimilate bits and pieces from other cultures, and seemingly at random.".
He paused, waiting for the various writing implements to stop. "Alright, can anyone give me a case of cultural assimilation by the humans that went badly?" All hands shot up. The professor chose one at random. "The Taral Salute." The gurgling answer came from a Taaren, a canine-like life form. Zig nodded. "Indeed, a disastrous misunderstanding - the Taral 'salute' was adopted as a standard human greeting, not knowing, or perhaps despite knowing, that it is one of the most vulgar gestures in the entire cross-galactic alliance." He adjusted his seeing aid. "Which led to the fourth civil war and multiple planet-eradication events, as humans also adapt technology.".
A few hands were raised, and Zig chose the old Krgaal, a female of some distinction and age. "But other races adapt too, right? It's why there are mixed universities in the first place. What made them so special?" He sighed. That was a bit of a hard subject to discuss. "True, but none as quickly, as fiercely or with such destructive results." He turned on the projector, showcasing various images as he spoke. "The extinction of the Ga'arth, the rise and death of the Ceremonious AI, the Golden Draught, the fourteen plagues, all seven galactic civil wars- virtually every major disaster in the last millennium can be traced back to humanity assimilating some cultural or technological aspect.".
The ringing bell signals the end of period, and Zig-1-13 decided to give his students a heads up. " Next lesson will be the excommunication of humanity from the alliance, and the permanent quarantine of the species to a single solar system, namely Xr-144q, in the planet SOL-3. Read chapter 14 in preparation." | Start...
I’ve read about the human race in my school. They are known to be violent beyond comprehension. A savage race which attacks every other species as well as each other. I remember my teacher, “Higher thought is inaccessible for such species. It’s best to avoid them.”
We’ve been at war with them for the last hundred years. We are quite a peaceful race. We have no weapons on our planet. It never occurred to us to harm another as a solution to our problems. The humans came to our planet in search of knowledge, and stayed to extract what they call ‘Lithium.’
When we tried to explain that the material was needed for the balance of our ecosystem, the humans didn’t seem to understand. They wanted it. They bombed our cities and occupied our capitals. They killed most of our leaders and took over the governance of our land.
Most of our race were imprisoned and killed. But we did not fight back. There is no point in fighting. We tried to educate and enlighten. We aim to improve ourselves, not in accumulating resources.
We did have captives in our few survivor camps. Were they really captives? They were free to go if they pleased. The humans who stayed with us, seemed to believe in our way. They spent most of their time studying and practicing our arts. The human leaders called them our “Prisoners of War.” Is it a war if it is one sided? I’ve often wondered.
They marvelled at our knowledge. It was easy for us to move things around with our spirit. The humans could not. They couldn’t communicate with each other unless they transmitted a lot of energy. How strange. I’ve never understood what makes it difficult. I have still more to learn.
There was a human who stayed at my home. I called him Bo. I was his keeper. I kept him alive. He needed nutrients that I could extract from the nearby land. He stayed indoors most of the time, sitting closing his eyes, nearly inactive. “Meditation,” he called it.
He learnt how to use the spirit force. He also spent his time practicing movements with his body that seemed like jumping and forcing things around. “Why not learn how be peaceful?” I would ask. It laughed, but never answered.
——
Our leaders called everyone for a gathering, today. “The messages that in the air seem to indicate that we will be killed tomorrow morning,” announced the eldest. Humans used the air to talk to each other. They had little devices that translated their words in to the mist that went through the air. We learnt to see those messages when the humans first came to our planet.
It had been a tough life. To face a foolish foe which destroyed everything you loved. Leaving this from of existence would be quite a relief. To journey on to the next phase of being. We decided to feast on our last night.
The humans in our camp seemed restless. They started yelling at each other and at us. They wanted to fight. We tried to tell them that it was okay to accept the future and war was not our way.
They weren’t soothed. Bo wanted to fight to protect us. He wouldn’t listen to our reason. He refused to accept our way. Bo organised the other humans and they were all yelling together. It was curious, how they dealt with knowledge of the future.
——
I was the morning of our departure. Bo was crying for us. For me. I told him that he would be spared so there was nothing to worry about. I opened by chest and offered to him a blunt knife to remember us by. It was a memento of our tribe. We used it to mark our children as adults. “Competence, with compassion.” It symbolised that we knew how to wield the knife but we choose not to use it.
This was my last mistake.
——
The inhabitants of our camp are still alive. But there is no peace. There is true war. A two sided war. Humans who want to keep us alive against humans who do not.
Bo combined the blunt knife with spirit energy into a violent weapon. Energy that our kind use to learn about the world.
They’ve been fighting for years. We are alive to witness it. We accept the war and wait our time to pass. We do not interact with the humans any more.
We’ve learnt from my last mistake.
...End | 2022-06-13T23:48:46 | 2022-06-13T23:34:05 | 422 | 171 |
[WP] There's a girl who knocks on your door at exactly 9pm on every full moon, expecting sweets. It's been more than ten years and she's never aged a day. | “Almost nine PM, she should be here any second.”
I sat on one of the old wooden chaisr on my porch, a bowl of candy nestled in my lap. To an outsider, it might seem odd for a man in his mid-thirties to be doing this. The whole thing just screams “stranger danger”. But if anyone was around when the light of full moon shone, they’d understand. Soon the time on my phone read 9:00 PM exactly, and there she was.
Trudging along the stone path leading to my porch, was a girl who looked no older than 12. The light of the moon shone off her curly golden hair and pure alabaster skin. She wore green overalls, a magenta shirt, lime green glasses and no footwear whatsoever.
“Hi, Mr. Herman!” The girl greeted with a smile as she walked up the steps and took a seat next to me in a smaller wooden chair. “Got anything good tonight?”
“Dana!” I chuckled softly. “I told you that can call me Wallace. Calling me Mr. Herman makes me feel old”
“But you have been getting older.” Dana retorted. “And it’s polite to call older people Mr. or Ms.”
“Well, not everyone can be twelve forever like you.” I teased as I handed Dana a Mounds bar. They’ve always been her favorite, but I was always partial to Almond Joy myself. We began scarfing down the sweets methodically as we gazed up at the golden moon and the ocean of stars in the night sky.
“Hey, Mr- I mean Wallace? May I ask you something?”
“Sure, Dana. What do you want know?”
“Why is your foot like that?” She was pointing down at the metal prosthetic attached to my left ankle. I sighed before beginning to speak.
“I lost my real one on the job five years ago. Some idiot in a semi rammed into my van while on my postal route, and the next thing I know, I’m in a hospital bed with foot gone. It was a miracle that was the only injury I got.
Dana’s face fell. “Oh. I’m really sorry, Wallace. I didn’t know.”
“Eh, it’s alright. It wasn’t your fault it happened.” I assured her. “Plus, I’m a tough old bird. If I could survive that, I could tough out anything life throws at me.”
“Good. Because if not, I’d have to get my candy somewhere else.”
We both laughed and dug into some almond Hershey bars before I looked at my phone. The time read 9:30 pm.
“Welp, that’s my time for the night.” Dana said as she began to get up.
“Same time next full moon?” I asked.
“Of course! I can’t leave my best friend hanging like that! See you soon, Wallace!” Dana replied as she ran down the path and disappeared into the night.
This has been our routine for nearly thirteen years now. I’m not entirely sure what Dana is. A ghost, angel, or a pale a child whose parents really need to set a curfew for her, but I enjoy her company. It’s nice to have company every now and then. | - Swaets?
- Sweets. The most delectable of confectionery, any on your person?
- Not for the twelfth time, ye ethereal wee cunt ye!
- Mr. Condor, I knew you were raised a wisecrack of greater lexicon, surely you would have had a greater mind for razing another character beyond base slurs
- You know my patience's spent with ye clawing at the door for no feckin' reason like a werewolf, if you're evolving into a pontificate I'm done with you.
- You know not to swear at a child.
- Hypocrite.
- Not so much guilt with it as you yourself harbour.
- ...
- What? Forgotten the time again this year? You saw the moon, I'm sure. October's first full moon as the custom has been so these past;--
- Step in out the rain so I can get a good look at ye. Its a freakshow that you're able to present yourself bone-dry when its bloody Baltic out there.
- Can't help it I'm afraid. What a wish I have, if only I could feel the water again. But of course, I'll oblige if only to satisfy custom.
- You and your fecking customs. Unfortunately no sweets again this year, miss.
- That's a shame.
- Sure, don't break your neck on the way in.
- Its gross what hate you seem to reserve for me. You'd never have never shown this to mammy.
- Oh there's more where that came from, next time I'll have a rat's arse to offer you when aul Remi kicks the bucket in that cupboard of mine.
- Maybe a rat would do.
- You'd take a rat?
- It satisfies the parameters for a gift, I suppose.
- Fuck ye then. No rat.
- I was never here to antagonise you, sir. Could not one thing suffice? I could travel onwards no problem at all. I'm fearful I'll have to pester your soul in the afterlife.
-...No.
- Can't let go of a regular visit, can you? How's the boys?
- No word of them. As usual. I hear one's a pilot now.
- That's nice.
- Fucker can fly from Adelaide to Beijing in his prison ship and not a thought would cross his mind to land in Banbridge.
- That's the way of things. You are tied to them, you know. You needn't feel guilt about their absence.
- Aye I know. Its like I feel this pang to call for them but they don't feel the same to call me.
- A decade of being hung up on your wife would do that. Not many would want to help you bridge a gap over a hole you dug.
- Shut up.
- So same as last year then? You deny me exit, you damn yourself, life goes on until you choke in your sleep?
- That's the way of it.
-...
-...
- I never sought to hurt you, sir.
- You never did. You were coy like that, cunt.
- This memory of us as children, it does you no good.
- Its all I have.
- No. You have far more than this. You have videos, photos. Memories. Not just a horrible musing over our first chance upon eachother.
- I ought to delete them.
-...
-...
- One year though, you can meet me halfway. I'll meet you there. Talk to me as we were as children, and we can make it work. Just please stop trying to own me like a pet for your insatiable ego, it serves no good purpose.
- You're long gone from me, miss.
- No, I'm not. I'm out there, probably.
- I saw your grave, miss. How do you expect me to reconcile with a dead woman?
- You can make peace with *me* though, can't you? The girl you knew from your childhood, who thought you'd be a chancer for a good bit of craic. I am dead, but I still live within you.
- You're gone, no physicality or beauty just an eerie oddity desperate for recompense.
- All it would take is a rat, sir. Liberty can be paid for with such a small price.
- And what, just forget? Piss it away, why don't I! Brilliant, it would be like we never lived at all. Thirty years of joy plunged into the deep and drowned!
- That joy will follow you to your own grave, sir. You know the truth of it.
-...
-...
- I never asked for your fecking company.
- Every year you refuse me the owed price is just another invitation. Hypocrite.
- I miss you, by God I fecking do. And I miss myself too, what youth I had.
- Oh, get over yourself, sentimental coot. I'll be back next year for you, should you still be standing.
- Then visit the boys, would you? They'd love to see you, if only once.
- Sir, I visited them once and no more. Only I was older with them. Funny that, their memory misaligns with yours. And so readily they were able to trade with me, unlike you who spites your own spirit.
- They never knew you as you were before. They wouldn't make sense of a child, they only knew their mother.
- Oh but they did make sense of me. Only you remain. I'll be back. Eventually.
-...
-...
- Sarah?
- Yes?
- Take the rat with ye. | 2022-06-25T18:44:17 | 2022-06-25T18:00:47 | 15 | 10 |
[WP]For three years you’ve had an uneventful marriage with your spouse when one day they become the Chosen One. Immediately setting off on their journey you don’t hear anything from them for five years. Then one day they reappear with a sheepish look on their face and hoping to speak to you. | Trajan sat on the porch of his family's farm. It was a quiet early summer evening. The work had mostly been done, setting the farm to rights. Readying it for her return. The fields were sown, the little brook babbled, the chickens meandered the small herb garden, the tree they had been wed under cast pleasant shade, and the boundary fence was painted a fresh white.
When Julia came to the gate, tattered and worn, Trajan felt a spike of concern in his breast. Being the chosen hero must have been so hard for her. He would have to take care to help her settle back into a calm life and heal. All he wanted was for her to be happy with him again.
He crunched down the path of fine white gravel to meet her.
"Welcome back love. You're home."
Tears poured from her eyes and the hilt of the shattered sword of light tumbled from her limp fingers. "How could you?"
"Well, I wanted you to come home didn't I?" Trajan said as he reached out and took her limp hands in his. "I would do anything to have our family again, I love you."
She looked away from him, out past the boundary fences. He knew she was looking at the ebony plains of blackend grass and twisted briars that grew outside their farm. The skeletal husk that had once been the hamlet of Greencreek. The occasional gleam of chitin and endless legs crawling in the deeper shadows.
Trajan caught her chin and pulled her attention back to him. "It doesn't matter anymore love, you're home. No more grand quest, the world can't take you away from me again." He kissed her brow, she tensed for a moment before relaxing into his arms. Small and broken. He would have to work hard to help her heal.
Deep inside him he felt the Slithering Darkness twist and writh slightly. He knew it would never die, not until its mission was done. Not until all life was snuffed out. But it couldn't act against him anymore. He had crept into its temple, took its writhing coils in hand and bit down. Consuming it's vile flesh. Stygian Acid blood boiling down his throat and a million claws tearing at his soul. Bite by bite he ate the beast, subsumed it's boundless hunger to his eternal love. All to avert the prophecy that would take Julia from him forever.
"*The chosen hero will seal the beast with her. For a hundred thousand years. In a realm adrift in the plains of death.*"
How could a loving husband allow such a fate to come to pass. If the world would ask such a sacrifice, what right did it have to be saved?
She met his eyes. Hers held emotion he had never seen in them before. He would have to ask her what she was feeling. Later though. For now she leaned up and kissed him.
"I'm home love." She said with watery eyes. | The whole party was there standing just beyond the town's gates. All the friends who had spent their whole lives together. Before they left, they were just drinking buddies, going to the taverns making up stories of adventures they wanted to take and the women they would leave their wives for.
It had been their dream and my husband was right smack dabbed in the middle of the group. Right now, he carried himself differently from the tire slob of a man I had married. He was dressed elegantly in his armor and his hair is clean cut, his face shaved, but his eyes were filled with sorrow.
I stood behind the gates and met his eyes. I was also a different person. I held my head high and stood straighter. I no longer struggled with my self esteem, and I could stand proudly before this man.
"My love, I have returned and brought everyone home to their own families, just as I had promised you," the helmet he was holding was adorned with a jewels and didn't who any evidence of the battles he had supposedly won.
"You promised me nothing, you left no letter, no message, not even leaving an annoying companion to give me any information. The taverns and cities have messengers and even wizards that could send dreams to explain what happened, but nothing from you, not even a peep," I looked at the members of the party and they attempted to not meet my eyes.
"I had whispered to you before I left, the kingdom needed me, my love," his voice cracked as he spoke. "I was to fulfill my destiny. I had to comply with my king's wishes."
"It's funny, isn't it? You left three years ago and left me nothing, but your debt. The collectors were willing to attack me when I was at my lowest, they figured that I could be used to paying back your debt because no one believed that you and that party could survive and come home," I pretended to dust off my gown. "You know what? You being gone was the best thing to happen to me. I was weak back then, broken if you will, I awaited news every day, and then the announcement that the princess had demanded your hand in marriage and your marriage to me would be annulled."
"I...I didn't sign the papers," he stuttered out, dropping all the items he had in hand. "It wasn't right for me to do that to the woman who was there for me at my lowest..."
"You don't have to sign those papers for the declaration to have happened," I felt my brow raise and a sneer slowly forming on my lips,"You hadn't even been a full knight yet and she wanted you for herself or that is how the news told it. All those stories you boys talked about and they all came true. The problem is you never thought about those you left behind." I raised a hand as a signal and several women appeared behind me. "We didn't sit still while you went off and played the hero for the kingdom, we..." I raise my arms to show I encompassed the women around me. "Formed our own kind of party. While you all had fun, we took over the debt collectors, we took over the back alleys, we became more fearful and dangerous than any hero."
I opened the gate and took careful, calculated steps toward the man who had now dropped to his knees and was watching me with hope, I gripped his cheeks between my fingers and squashed his face to make his lips pucker up, "I meant till death do us part, my love." I kissed him gently and passionately, it had taken a moment, but I pulled away slowly as I could see a kind of realization in his eyes, "I have become one of the most influential assassins in this country and my love, the king marked you when you rejected his daughter. The problem about your all mighty honor and how you weren't going to leave me story should have been more thought out." I leaned in close and whispered, "maybe you should have thought about rejecting her before you had got her pregnant."
The party of men were now in panic as the rest of the wives had followed me out and now had them surrounded. Their screams of protest echoed around me as I watched the light leave my husband's eyes. These weaklings figured we would be too over joyed to ever stay angry at them for the misdeeds they had committed on their journey. The problem is that they never thought we would come together and support each other so much that we didn't need to ever forgive them.
When the King's request had crossed my desk I had thought about not accepting it, but if I angered the king with the rejection of this job I would be putting the whole town in danger. I couldn't make everyone around me suffer because of a little effect I had for a man three years before. This was the easiest way for me to have any semblance of revenge while making sure that this town could be well taken care of. Thanks to us, trade to our town had increased and we were now able to afford many goodies we didn't have three years ago. Clean water, safe streets, and everyone was receiving education so that everyone could be self reliant.
No one in this town would suffer as I had. My dead husband might have been the hero of this whole kingdom, but I was a hero to my neighbors and friends which honestly was far more important. | 2022-08-12T18:40:02 | 2022-08-12T17:18:13 | 62 | 26 |
[WP] You're a supervillain whose latest evil scheme threatens to throw the city into chaos unless your nemesis goes on a date with you. To your surprise, they agree with enthusiasm before you can even explain what the consequences of refusing are. | “W-wait, you’re serious?”
“Yeah sure, why not, it’ll be fun!”
“But I haven’t even explained the stakes! You’re just okay with this?”
“Honestly, I was a bit surprised when you asked me, but we’ve been so busy lately, I figured we both could use a break.”
“ oh… wow, this is a bit unexpected, do you have a place in mind? I was thinking about that new diner over 5th, you know, the one that’s themed after old diners from the 50’s?”
“I’ve heard good things about that one, I hear their malts are to die for, I’d love to go!”
-Villain and Hero pull out their phones and open up their calendars.-
“Are you free this Thursday? I have cross fit that day, but I should still have time.”
“Sorry, I’ve got a D&D session with the revengers that day, how about Friday evening?”
“Hmm, well I was planning on working on my orbital death ray, but I doubt the parts I’ve been waiting for will have been delivered by then, so yeah, Friday will work!”
“Alright Friday it is!”
And so, as time went on, the two enemies became lovers, and their quarrels grew far and few between. The hero continued to protect the city, as they had always done, and the Villain turned over a new leaf, and devoted their genius intellect to solving problems like cancer and climate change. Together, they made the world a better place, and continue to make each other happy. | Getting tipsy at the club with my friends. We're shaking butts in time with the hottest song of the summer. Sometimes we villains are cannibals - I took down this jerk who was trying to dim my sunshine so to speak - muscling into my action with dark money politics. I ruined his reputation by making some photos of him in the middle of extramarital situations which the mainstreamers didn't like. Me and my crew figured out he was really into funding start up companies that hire young college females. Turns out people are not OK with non-consensual polyamory. Go figure!
Now everybody's hating on him. Kicking him off of charity boards, returning his millions. It's super sad for him. Politicians crying about how they never saw it coming, how he seemed like such a nice guy with civic values. I'm all for oppressing the people because OMG democracy is so annoying. I'm not into humans ruling themselves - they simply cannot handle the responsibility. But he was getting bigger than me, and I wasn't having it. Who is the biggest villain? For damn sure it's not him. Yeah, was that vain? So what? I don't care. Did Godzilla have to work this hard? I don't know. Maybe my life would be easier as a nuclear radiation kaiju. Cloak of invisibility plus flight powers works pretty well for me. But still. There's more to life, am I right?
So here's the thing about villains. The villainy doesn't just stop with civilian deaths and general misery. It also sucks to date other villains. NGL, how many phone calls going to voicemail or messages left on read do I have to tolerate? I am the Empress of this town and it doesn't seem to matter much. Definitely got high fives and plenty of offers for hot dates after I blew up the sewage system. But this thing about destroying this billionaire takes the cake. Lots of smiles and offers of hugs - which I do not accept, thank you very much.
Who is coming up to me, looking like sex on wheels but Apple Tree Johnson? "Good job Empress. Didn't know you had it in you." Immediately I brace myself for something patronizing or condescending to follow. But it never arrives. "I kinda hated that billionaire dude also. And you know everybody on my side tried everything too. But you are the one who made the slam-dunk. Can I shake your hand?" Apple Tree Johnson - gorgeous and pretty smart too for a superhero - went to high school with me. Oh yeah it gets worse.
Why is it 100% cringe anytime we run into each other? So what's the harm with a handshake? "Mmm-kay, sure." I stick out my hand. His hand is warm. It's like butter mixed with caramel is flowing now from my hand to my brain. All of sudden his face lights up like glitter is raining down on just him. He nods, keeping his hand on mine. "Slam-dunk Empress. Your town thanks you." Who talks like this? Why am I like the snake caught in the gaze of a mongoose now?
I clear my throat, "Cool, let's hang out sometime and chat more. I'd rather do this civilly but if you do not accept - " He cuts me off before I finish. "Of course, anything for a champion. Time and place?" He didn't even wait to hear my threat. I was going to do something really awesome with the saltwater intrusion into our freshwater supply but I guess he didn't have the patience to hear what evil I had up my sleeve. I wasn't 100% on the saltwater thing but it could be epic. I'll table it for the time being. What the hell are we going to talk about?!?! | 2022-08-16T12:22:25 | 2022-08-16T09:25:08 | 20 | 12 |
[WP] A child is born with a condition that doctors describe not as a deformity, but as a form of evolution. | The doctor held my hand very sweetly. He seemed unsure where to begin. From the other side of the room, I could hear my husband cooing and singing softly to our strange, beautiful new child.
"The thing is," the doctor said, "there's nothing to treat."
"But the baby-" I said.
"I know, I know. It's going to take some getting used to. But you see, sometimes mutations occur in babies- actually, mutation occur in babies all the time. But most of those mutations are like little steps. This is a big jump. "The doctor folded his hands in his lap uncomfortably. He stared at the ceiling and gulped.
"Will she live a normal life?" I asked.
"She'll live an incredible life. But normal? Well... Special. "
"But what exactly is her condition? If it's not a disease..." I couldn't finish the sentence.
"It's a form of evolution," said the doctor.
This man was full of shit.
"Doctor, evolution only occurs at the population level, not the individual." | "Well, it is certainly peculiar isn't it..."
"It's not an "it" it's a child, and don't let the mother hear you call him "peculiar"
Two doctors in white lab coats face a glass window on the other side is swaddle of blue blankets laying softly in a crib. One doctor is young man just donning his doctor's coat for the first time, brown hair in a messy array of spikes that had to have been planned to look so suiting on him. The other doctor wears his graying hair short and cropped in a neat pile, his lined with the weight of his years.
"Well what do we call it, not the baby the disorder. I've never even heard of this before." the young doctor said.
"To my knowledge it has never happened before, a specialist is coming in from Dallas and will be here by the end of the week. However, this might not be something we should remove." the lines on the doctor's face becoming thicker as he loses himself in thought.
"We shouldn't remove it? but that is going to be a hard life with those things on it. Would there be a complication if we tried?"
"Three in fact, one I'm not to giddy about putting a newborn into surgery that isn't correcting something life threatening. Two, those "things" are uncharacteristically well formed I'd bet two weeks vacation that some major arteries are running through there, especially with the bone structure supporting them. Thirdly, the mother doesn't want them removed."
"What! Why wouldn't she? Those are going to affect the child everyday, you can't exactly hide them. Day one and already doomed to never live a normal day."
"Well I'm inclined to agree with the mother on this. They are twitching just as much as any other part of him, I mean it might not even be a disorder. Perhaps just a mutation..."
"Do mutations generally start with this large of a step? I mean, You even said they are really well formed... Isn't evolution more of baby steps?"
"This is the first time I've witnessed such a large step, yes. Personally though this is the only step I have witnessed that I can definitely say evolution."
"Won't the government want to dissect him and study him? is he safe in a public hospital?"
"No" the old doctor said while suppressing a laugh "No, I doubt the government would step in and attempt to vivisect a live American Child. Do you think this is a comic book doctor? The most they will do is maybe attempt a glance at the medical files leading up to the birth and any examinations afterwards."
Silence fills in between the doctors as the baby before them wakes and begins to cry. A door opens to the babies and a nurse rushes through to start comforting the baby. the blue swaddling falls from the babies back and reveals to large flat wings. The wings are dotted with what looks to be feathers beginning to sprout like flowers after a long winter.
The younger doctor begins again "This child will never have a normal life... you know this right?"
"Yes" the older doctor says "not one normal day, I heard you. No everyday this child has will be extraordinary."
EDIT: Format | 2014-04-11T12:00:39 | 2014-04-11T11:58:32 | 171 | 62 |
[WP]A man kills himself after discovering the meaning of life and writing it down, as does anybody who reads his note, you unwittingly read the note, what does it say and what do you do? | This is the bit of paper? Really? It's not very big. And people just read it, and then off they go? And kill themselves? All of them? That's fucking ridiculous, seriously, I'm going to read it. No, fuck off, I'm reading it. I'm going to read it and then I will go home and get on with my life and no one is going to die. Look, I've got a great job, gorgeous wife, a beautiful home and a baby on the way. I promise you, there is nothing that this paper could say that could make me take my own life. Seriously, I'm going to read it right now, out loud, so shut your ears if... you know, if you're a fucking idiot. Right...
"Recliner chairs in the afterlife are available on a first-come first-served basis"
Oh... | My life is more difficult than yours.
When I wake up at five-thirty in the morning and cozy my feet into the slippers left purposely next to my bed, I am tired. I am *beyond* tired. Furthermore, it is in this moment that I have accomplished more than what my constituents manage in a year's time. Yet still I am plagued by their incessant recommendations, always stated with an air of condescension which exists in direct opposition to their conspicuous ignorance.
I don't eat Cheetos. My breakfast consists of low-fat yogurt, egg whites, and a banana. For my failing heart. I can't stand youth.
Do you have any idea how much legislature someone in my position must sift through *every day*, simply to remain at equal level to his colleagues? Are you aware of how many letters each and every congressman receives on a daily basis from the population he or she is tasked with representing? Of course you aren't, because what *you* do simply doesn't matter.
Every miserable day, I spend hours sifting through this trite 'literature' wishing... praying that this will be the day that an aneurysm claims my life. Painlessly, of course, for I am deserving of no less.
It never works. It must be all of the yogurt. Curse my wife and doctor; they are an insufferable team.
Today was thankfully not like every other day. I'd like to briefly explain why, before I Depart.
You see, it was today that, after the bland breakfast and banal pleasantries I customarily exchange with my (now) hideous wife before she ever so gracefully evacuates my presence, I came into possession of a brief correspondence from yet another one of my brilliant, attentive constituents.
Instead of my name it read, "The Meaning of Life". In retrospect, the return address prophesied the content it preceded. It turned out not to be an original, but actually a duplicate sent by one of my counterparts, a man without character and one with whom I share mutual contempt. Coincidentally, he had taken his life earlier in the week, and until now I remained radiant from the occasion.
Now, if I were a smarter, more resourceful man, I simply would have tossed the letter to burn in my (quite) expensive fireplace. Fortunately, I use wealth to compensate for a scarcity of the aforementioned qualities, and so I am without those faculties which could have saved my miserable, Cheeto-less life.
For your sake, I'll leave the rest of the details out of my recollection, and instead will provide you only with what so suddenly stole the wind from my diaphragm.
The letter read, in what I would consider the sloppiest and most unflattering penmanship I've ever had the misfortune to rest my eyes upon,
"smoke weed err'day 420 360 no scope lolfaggot".
I am grateful to the Lord; not for my wife, or for her keen skill in separating white from yolk, but instead for the loaded .357 magnum revolver that I keep close to my reception desk. I would have been hopeless without it. | 2015-02-27T00:42:41 | 2015-02-27T00:01:25 | 532 | 22 |
[WP]You are Donald Trump. Having launched your Presidential campaign as a publicity stunt, you never thought you'd get this far, and you're getting more desperate to sabotage your campaign lest you become President, a position you never really wanted in the first place..
= | Trump 2016, I never thought I would ever hear those words and have them be true. I mean, I have to be honest with all of you. Are you crazy for choosing me as the Republican presidential candidate? Seriously, have you listened to anything I have said so far?
Remeber the story that came out when I first declared my campaign? The story about how I called and talked to the Clintons for an hour, and then I said I was going to run? I called to wish Hillary good luck, but then I got talking to Bill about how I could best help Hillary win. He jokingly said that I should run as a Republican candidate to mix things up over there. You know I love the spotlight, so I figured what the hell why not. Stock in my company will go up, and free advertising, right?
I never wanted to win so I tried to say some of the most vile un-American things I could think to say. I attacked women for their looks and inferior intelligence, I attacked immigrants, religions, and freedoms we hold dear. I lied constantly about everything, even when the truth was handed to me. I refused to ever apologize, and I threatened to take our country to war once again.
Yes, America, this was all a joke, but you ate it up. The more I tried to lose with the things I said, the more you loved me. I showed the ugly side of America and you embraced it. I just came here today to tell you all that, America, you are fired as citizens of a functioning democracy. Oh yeah, and I quit. I'm going to Mexcio, the people there are actually wonderful, despite what I said before.
*Edited some grammar mistakes.
| "I really do not want to do this anymore," said the orange haired man in the most depressing way. He fixed his thin tie and tucked his button down shirt into his khaki pants; just another day on the campaign trail.
It is Friday and Donald's secretary pressured him the entire morning to cancel his afternoon speech if he truly wasn't feeling up to it. Donald of course turned down this ridiculous idea. He may regret joining the race, but he's not one to quit.
"I hear what you're saying Lisa, but Trumps do not give up. We don't go back on what we say and we always win," he said confidently.
Lisa's face scrunches in a way that makes her look like the Grinch. "Besides, we have one hour until the speech," her boss adds.
Lisa had endured hours of Trump's speeches and heard countless catch phrases. "Only a Trump can build a palace in a dump" and "If you're stumped just call Trump" are among the many annoying rhymes she has heard him practice this morning in his private study.
"I just don't get it Donny. If you really want to drop out of the race, can't you let your pride go and just sign on someone else's ballot?" the Boston University graduate asks. She makes her confused Grinch face again and awaits either Donald's compassionate answer or anger at her stupid question. She could flip a coin as the candidate's response varies similarly.
He never answered her question, even after a thirty minute helicopter car ride to a small location in Alabama. Finally it is time for his speech.
Donald walks to the stage, water bottle in hand and the swagger of a king. He truly does not have a care in the world. "Lisa, it has been nice working with you," he mutters. She knows it is the end.
"Wow, feels awful to be in Alabama. Roll tide? More like Run, Hide! You guys are shit, AM I RIGHT?" Donald yells at the crowd.
They love him and eat it up. They chant his name much like Christ's followers most likely did. It is Christmas after all.
*Well that didn't work*, the careless candidate ponders. *Let's try this instead*.
"Bama! It is time to adapt! No longer may we exclude so many! If you make me President, I promise I will bring equality for every race, both genders, and create programs to provide fast track education for African Americans!"
The crowd boos the man off the stage. Donald's team had predicted that Donald cannot win the race without overwhelming support from a few states, including Alabama. His plan is going well.
**6 MONTHS LATER**
Donald has been elected for President. Both Texas and Alabama are threatening to secede from the nation, much like Texas did when President Obama was elected years prior. His plan failed tremendously. Even though Alabama and other states were terrified by his claims to introduce fair labor laws, support for unions and fast tracked education for minorities, the rest of the country loved him for it. In fact, Alabama stands divided. Half of the state's voters got past his scare tactics simply because they appreciated his integrity.
"Well - shit," Donald muttered in his office. His wife left him a week ago, but she was committed to act as his wife for another four years. He didn't want her anyways and he certainly didn't want the Oval Office. The sole relief he yearned for was Lisa's loving grasp. The young brunette who traveled from Boston to all avenues of America has become one with his heart and soul. Perhaps that's why Melania left.
"I know you never wanted this office, but what comes first Donald?" Lisa asks.
"The hundred foot wall, obviously."
And thus, America is doomed, but at least Donald doesn't enjoy being President anymore than anyone else does.
| 2015-12-25T05:50:44 | 2015-12-25T05:48:58 | 25 | 10 |
[WP] You wake up to discover that you are stuck with a British narrator stating the obvious. | *The human male stirs in his sleep he struggles to shake off the grogginess of another good nights sleep.*
What the heck is going on? I'm tired be quie... who said that?
*He glances around the room, his personal nest that quite frankly could do with a cleaning.*
Great a voice in my head and it has problems with how I live my life, besides my room isn't *that* bad.
*Fortunately for the rest of his species he is not the only male so his group will survive.*
Ok fine! The room could be cleaned will you leave me alone I need to shower and get ready for work.
*He rises from his resting place and as a show of disinterest scratches his backside as he shambles towards the door.*
WHAT IS YOUR PROBLEM! I had an itch and scratched it!
*The man continues towards the shower and we may wan't to throw a censor over- never mind I can barely see anything, and I'm in his head.*
No point in yelling and a voice in my head then its just, if you are going to stay, could you maybe look away?
*Tiny Tim over here seems to think that I have an option, that I get a say in who I narrate. I just show up and start talking about what I see. Heck, If I got to pick who I watch I'd pick someone HOT, hell I even faked the accent to make it more interesting!*
Um... ok sorry I guess I just thought that you were doing this to spite me or something, continue then if you want.
*Ok, we now see the man wrapping his towel to protect what little pride remains, and reaches for what appear to be prescription drugs, perhaps he has a migraine or some voices... in his... hea..* | And it was on this fine and jolly day that the lil' fucker Irving got up from his kip and decided to brush his damn teeth up-and-down like some damn wank.
"Wow, what the fuck?!" said the little cockrobin as he fingie'd on his bedside lamp and yawned like some old hag who woke up ball's rat arsed at the nearby pub.
Irving stared around his pathetic lookin' room. It was awful bright, he thought, and I mean awful bright! Reminded me of back in the Blitz when me mum and pa lit candlesticks down in the underground whilst me dear sistah and I went around roughing boys up for some spare change.
Irving, a fatarse of 'bout twenty-three, shrugged off his weird feeling of being watched and descended down the steps of his flat and into the kitchen. His pathetic eyes stared down into the icebox for a few minutes before he decided he didn't feel like eating. He filled a kettle instead and set it ovah' a flame on the stove before the fucking prat headed to the couch to turn on the telly.
Unfortunately for the bastard, it was at that moment that a door rang at his bell. A bell rang at his door. Y'know what? I don't give a shite. It fucking rang.
**THUD. THUD. THUD. THUD.**
Irving scratched his arsehole a bit and took a long sniff o' it before he got off and went to ansah' the door.
Before him, stood an equally fat, if not slightly oldah' bastard with white hair, wrinkles, and crow's feet. In a way, he sort of resembled the late King George Henry Williamson of Yorickvanshtire back in the days of yore. Unfortunately, the bastard din't really exist at all, so Irving could not help but not recognize who the bloody fuck he was talking to at all.
Irving looked up at the sky like a confused little cricked as he suddenly realized he could hear my voice and my upright posh accent that makes me sound like some suspender-wearing twat that works down at the factory dealing iodine and pickles to children.
I mean, listen! Can you not hear the first-class quality of my finely bred voice, you shitemunching pile of-
"Excuse me, sir. But I don't recall knowing your name," Irving said all fancy-like and politely to the stranger.
The stranger stared at him with cold, bony hands and empty eyes. He then stripped out of his damn clothing like dicker with an itch to do the hanky panky to reveal that he did indeed have cold, bony hands and empty eyes. This man, this old pasty white fucker before Irving, was none other than Death 'imself.
"Irving! You've been selected to die today by court order of 'Heart Attack.' Will you comply?" asked Death as he made himself comfortable, waltzing over to the stove like some pansy to steal the kettle.
Irving scratched his head. He din't know what to do. All this awesome shite happening right seemed so wicked confusing to to him that he just needed to lie down for a few winks and return back to his piss poor excuse of a boring reality.
Who the fuck wants to leave in reality, mind you? Nobody! In reality, I'd be speaking fucking The Queen's English like some boring English-teaching tart. Naw. I'd rather stick with my own native tongue if you don't bloody mind.
Irving felt the lights grow dimmer and dimmer as he lounged lazily upon his rich man's couch. The sun was shining outside and the birds were chirping like a bunch o' fuck-ups whining about the fucking Tories again. But Irving was a boring man who gave no shites, so he went back to bed.
He would later wake up to find that his stupidity had wound up leaving him homeless due to his flat burning down thanks to the kettle that had sat upon the stove for some five-fucking hours.
Fucking bastard can't even make tea right. | 2016-02-21T21:39:11 | 2016-02-21T19:59:10 | 17 | 12 |
[WP] Eye colour means everything here. Brown control the earth, blue controls the water, white controls the sky. There are so many colours and each important but you were the first born with yellow eyes. | Every colour has a power.
Brown controls the earth.
Blue controls the water.
White controls the sky.
There are many colours, and some are more common than others.
Grey, the colour of ashes, is the most common colour. Grey controls fire.
The least common was Purple, the eye colour of the royal family that has ruled for millennia, and the controllers of shadows.
It *was* Purple.
Until me.
I'm Yellow.
The first Yellow.
And I can control people. | I had always been jealous of the others. Being able to cause earthquakes, raise and lower the ground, rolling the ground underneath my feet as if it were a skateboard. Or what about being able to make water appear wherever you wanted it to appear. Make it rain and shower the pastures for the farmers or being able to give water to those who are thirsty. Also, flying looked amazing; having the wind catch you under your arms and fly wherever you wanted. I was jealous, until I grew over it and discovered my power. Legal drinking age. All my friends weren't allowed to drink until they turned eighteen. That wasn't a problem for me. My yellow eyes enabled me to control beer and make it go wherever I wanted it to, most importantly: in my mouth. I started drinking when I was sixteen and haven't stopped ever since. I drink beer almost every day and whenever I become nauseous or tipsy, I have it leave my body. That's right. Right from the bladder, back through my throat and onto the street. It sounds disgusting, but being able to have infinite drinks? It's awesome. I earn my money nowadays by competing in drinking games. "Fifty bucks for the fool who can chug the most!" Easy money.
"Alright guys, I'm gonna take a piss. All that beer has to come out," I say as I leave the room filled with people staring at me in awe after winning another drinking game, netting twenty bucks this time. I head for the toilets and lock myself up in a stall. I don't feel like getting the beer back out through my mouth, so I just stand and piss. Soon after some guys enter the bathroom. "He went in here, the fraud," one says. "Must be in that stall." Their footsteps draw closer and all of a sudden they start banging on the door. "We know you're in there, yellow eye." "Show us what you're worth, beer drinking fraud."
Shit, they've discovered my power. I've been taking a leak for a minute now and I'm still not done. I focus and I can feel the piss running out of me in a more intense way. It doesn't take long until I can feel its warmth embody me. Goodness, I'm controlling my own piss. Let's see how they like this! I turn around and my beam hits the closed door, but I target the waterfall upwards, over the stall and the yellow fountain of warmth showers over the guys standing in front of it. "WHAT THE F- HE'S PISSING OVER THE DOOR!" one says and the rest starts shouting. They run from the bathroom while shouting and soon after peace returns. I turn back around and aim for the pot again, lowering the ray in the middle.
Beer controlling and now piss controlling. Sweet. | 2016-08-08T11:30:41 | 2016-08-08T10:59:12 | 55 | 12 |
[WP] The Illuminati is actually a gentlemen's club for the super-rich. Often men make high risk and dangerous bets/wagers such as: "I bet you can't destabilize Ukraine in under a week." One day you offer a wager to the most powerful member that's too irresistible to turn down. | "Alright, alright, I've got one," wheezed Richardson over gales of laughter. "I bet you can't... make *this* monkey famous." He produced a photograph from a local zoo from within his jacket.
"Please, we can come up with better than that," sneered Kringle. "I'll have it done by tonight... and that's not even technically a *monkey.* Now..." He turned around looking for someone else to challenge.
His eyes finally met those of the imposing man who sat smiling in a corner and pointed at him.
"I think it's time you joined the festivities, eh?" grinned Kringle. "And I've got a real tricky one planned."
A sudden hush overtook the room. All around the gentlemen's club, faces were frozen mid-smile. Richardson tried to interrupt, uncomfortable, but was silenced with a brief wave of the hand.
"I can handle anything you can think up," came the man's booming voice. "My IQ is one of the highest - and you all know it!"
Kringle continued, unphased. "I want you... to become the President by gradually insulting every single demographic you can think of."
The room was even quieter for a few seconds.
"I like it!" laughed the booming voice of Donald Trump. "I don't know what will happen, but it will be interesting!" | I watch the clown on my 52 inchTV, he delivers yet another embarrassing news conference making a spectacle of our entire political system. How did we get here? I must confess, it is all my fault. I belong to a gentlemen's club for what are termed, super-rich. One day, after enjoying a round of golf with my bud Mark, we were watching some golf in the deck, when out comes a commercial for The Apprentice. There, in all his gaudy glory is Donald J. Trump, the show's host. He has always wanted to join us, but he is neither rich enough, and far too crass. An idea pops up in my head, and I cannot contain it. "Mark", I say, "let's make a bet!" Mark turns to me and says, "sure, what do you want to lose $2 million on this time?" You see, a few months back, I bet Mark he wouldn't be able to destabilize Ukraine, by getting Russia to annex Crimea. I bet him $2 million that not even he could pull that off. I lost, as did Ukraine. I'm still smarting about that, especially since before that even, I lost another bet to Mark that he wouldn't be able to get Russia to attack Georgia, and annex part of its territory without a firm NATO response. As most of you no doubt know, I also lost that bet. That's what we do as super rich, we bet against one another for various reasons, but mostly pride in our prowess as movers and shakers. This time, I thought I had something that even Mark could not do. "I said, Mark, $5 million says you cannot make Trump a serious contender for the American Presidency." Mark responds "Listen Jack, I can do this, I can even make him win the whole damn thing, question is, do you really want me to do it? I mean, sure you lose $5 million, but how much will the country lose?" I say, "scared? he replies, "No, in fact, let's break this down into pieces, I promise you that not only will he run for President, but I will make him run and win as a Republican!" I laugh, and say, "the guy's a New Yorker, and a pretty liberal one at that, there's no way he'll get past the primary!" Mark replies, "Well, let's make it interesting. $1 million says he runs as a Republican, $ 2 million more says he wins the primary, and $5 million says he wins the Presidency. Just remember bud, I warned you that this was likely nothing you or I, or anyone else really wanted." I laugh it off, and say, "sure, but this time, I have you beat Mark. There is no way in hell that loud mouth can control himself to not make an ass out of himself, and his liberal positions will likely undermine his campaign until he has to withdraw. Besides, if that doesn't do him in his having 5 kids by 3 different wives should do it with the bible thumpers. Face it Mark, this time, I have the upper hand." After we sealed our pact, we went back to smoking cigars, drank a few drinks, then each headed home. My helicopter was waiting on deck, but Mark took his yacht. Others in the room, began to wager as they often do, to see who they thought would come out on top. Now here we are. What have I done? | 2016-08-23T16:11:42 | 2016-08-23T13:00:40 | 578 | 94 |
[WP] The Illuminati is actually a gentlemen's club for the super-rich. Often men make high risk and dangerous bets/wagers such as: "I bet you can't destabilize Ukraine in under a week." One day you offer a wager to the most powerful member that's too irresistible to turn down. | "This year, the award will be determined on he following criteria. Whomever manages to effect the greatest change with the smallest object will win an additional 25% prize. Any member who does not submit their buy-in in one hour will forfeit the opportunity to compete." The message, handed to me on a piece of what seemed to be paper, by a nondescript man with large sunglasses, abruptly went blank.
The shimmering Rio de Janeiro sun and blasting heat reminded me that I needed to return to my estate in the countryside, I had an idea for this year's prize.
After my success a few years ago, I thought that maybe I could use a similar creation to win again. That time, the topic was "use a piece of history to destabilize as large a part of the world as possible." Ebola had echoed through the annals of history and the rest of the club had gladly paid up.
My laboratory was quiet and sterile. I immediately opened one of the doors and had one of the prisoners brought forward. A child, race indeterminate.
"What's your name?" I asked him.
"Z-Zika. They call me that because its where they found me."
I smiled at the terrified boy. "Well, Zika, we're about to win a wager. Let's give some of your blood to the mosquitoes, shall we?" | I watch the clown on my 52 inchTV, he delivers yet another embarrassing news conference making a spectacle of our entire political system. How did we get here? I must confess, it is all my fault. I belong to a gentlemen's club for what are termed, super-rich. One day, after enjoying a round of golf with my bud Mark, we were watching some golf in the deck, when out comes a commercial for The Apprentice. There, in all his gaudy glory is Donald J. Trump, the show's host. He has always wanted to join us, but he is neither rich enough, and far too crass. An idea pops up in my head, and I cannot contain it. "Mark", I say, "let's make a bet!" Mark turns to me and says, "sure, what do you want to lose $2 million on this time?" You see, a few months back, I bet Mark he wouldn't be able to destabilize Ukraine, by getting Russia to annex Crimea. I bet him $2 million that not even he could pull that off. I lost, as did Ukraine. I'm still smarting about that, especially since before that even, I lost another bet to Mark that he wouldn't be able to get Russia to attack Georgia, and annex part of its territory without a firm NATO response. As most of you no doubt know, I also lost that bet. That's what we do as super rich, we bet against one another for various reasons, but mostly pride in our prowess as movers and shakers. This time, I thought I had something that even Mark could not do. "I said, Mark, $5 million says you cannot make Trump a serious contender for the American Presidency." Mark responds "Listen Jack, I can do this, I can even make him win the whole damn thing, question is, do you really want me to do it? I mean, sure you lose $5 million, but how much will the country lose?" I say, "scared? he replies, "No, in fact, let's break this down into pieces, I promise you that not only will he run for President, but I will make him run and win as a Republican!" I laugh, and say, "the guy's a New Yorker, and a pretty liberal one at that, there's no way he'll get past the primary!" Mark replies, "Well, let's make it interesting. $1 million says he runs as a Republican, $ 2 million more says he wins the primary, and $5 million says he wins the Presidency. Just remember bud, I warned you that this was likely nothing you or I, or anyone else really wanted." I laugh it off, and say, "sure, but this time, I have you beat Mark. There is no way in hell that loud mouth can control himself to not make an ass out of himself, and his liberal positions will likely undermine his campaign until he has to withdraw. Besides, if that doesn't do him in his having 5 kids by 3 different wives should do it with the bible thumpers. Face it Mark, this time, I have the upper hand." After we sealed our pact, we went back to smoking cigars, drank a few drinks, then each headed home. My helicopter was waiting on deck, but Mark took his yacht. Others in the room, began to wager as they often do, to see who they thought would come out on top. Now here we are. What have I done? | 2016-08-23T16:00:26 | 2016-08-23T13:00:40 | 179 | 94 |
[WP] you are an immortal and have lived a very long life. Everytime you die your body regenerates as you come back to life. Unfortunately, a serial killer finds out and sees you as the perfect victim to kill again and again. So he captures you. But he didn't expect you would play tricks on his mind | Months of imprisonment and it still hurt like hell. Every fingerprick, every cut, every dismemberment made my body cry out in pain. My nerves would regenerate with the rest of my body. There were no calluses or scars, there never were, only fresh skin.
He was punctual. Every day he'd drag me from the cell and kill me in one of dozens of ways. They weren't very creative anymore, even the times he chose to use torture. Some days were over in minutes, others he would go on for hours. But it always hurt. And he always threw me back into the cell.
And i always healed.
My limbs reattached and my bones regrew. My muscle and sinew reknitted itself. I would look down at my body and see it happen. 12 hours after my death, an entirely destroyed body and mind would be blinked away in minutes. Then i would open my eyes for another day.
Every day I'd wake up and see a "hint" on the table. A tool or something that would tell me how i would die that day. It was his way of keeping himself from boredom i suppose, but for me it was a small puzzle to pass the time. The most memorable being the time he laid a few metallic objects out. When the time came he assembled them into a gun and put a series of bullets into my chest.
At some point suicide became my religion. A promised paradise that i held onto. The concept of choice. How beautiful. But there was no way to kill myself. I had tried attacking him, but he would overpower me so easily.
I opened my eyes, the cell floor cold against my side. I glanced at the table: *A knife*. No puzzle, just a statement. If i was lucky I'd be stabbed once or twice and that would be the end of it. Most likely I'd be cut up until i bled to death, then i would watch the damage be undone from my out of body experience.
Bored, i looked around the floor and my eyes rested on something. A few shell casings from before. Like lightning an idea struck me. I quickly began thinking of a plan, both excited and hopelessly scared as i now had a chance and something to lose.
With a determination born from desperation i grabbed the shell casings and swallowed them whole...and then i started to choke. I couldnt breathe or swallow. I could get air. And no matter how hard my body's survival instinct fought to keep me alive, it couldnt stop this. For once in months of the cycle, i died before he killed me. And that was only the first part.
I watched myself from above as he came in 11 hours later, only to find my dead body. He thought i was sleeping at first and dragged me out, but i did nothing, my body limp. He grabbed the knife and drew a line down my side, the blood leaking out. I could see him grow more worried as he hit me harder and i had no reaction. He checked my body for signs of injury but there were none. He must've felt how cold i was. Then he checked my breathing. I saw dread spread across his face as he tried for an hour before he realized i wasnt coming back.
For the first time ever, i saw him start to cry. He set the knife down and leaned over me, his tears pouring down onto me. But i felt no pity. At that point it had been 12 hours and i started to reenter my body. This was it. The cut along my side vanished, but he was too emotional to tell. The shell casings slipped from my mouth to the floor with a *clink*.
He looked up but it was too late. In a flash i grabbed the knife and plunged it as deep into his chest as i could. He grew limp and that was it. I was free. I walked up the stairs and opened the door and never looked back | The cold, unforgiving walls surrounded you, your body barely fitting inside the barred capsule you had know for too many years. You glanced up as He walked into the room once more. You knew it was worthless begging, pleading, screaming. His deranged grin, all too familiar, appeared in front of your face. He unlocked the cage, and, once more you broke for freedom. It was a futile game of cat and mouse, destined never to change. You ran down the only corridor, finding yourself in a room that was, once again, completely locked. He entered, pulled out a knife, and began the ritual. Every single day of every single month of every single year was filled with endless pain, suffering, and torture. You had exhausted every means of escape, countless times. By now, you knew it was much easier to just succumb; fighting just prolonged the torture.
But something was different this time. He plunged his knife deep into your core, twisting and tearing. As your consciousness was stolen away from your physical form once more, you settled into the calming mindscape.
It was sheer nothingness. No tangible objects were present on this plane of existence. Not even darkness, simply... Nothing. Your mind expanded, as you connected with the real world once more. The strands of your Soul had already begun to weave their way back into Reality, attaching themselves to your fresh physical form. You lingered, knowing this was your only break from an unbreakable cycle. Your mind flashed into reality, but you dragged yourself away, begging to be saved from this eternal torture. This was risky; you had only ever attempted to avoid Rebirth once before, and almost corrupted You. And suddenly...
Life.
For the first time in decades, you felt emotion. It blossomed from deep within the recess of your mind. It quickly grew, flowering and extending its limbs far through your Soul. It was... Peaceful? No, that's not the correct term, although it was reassuring...
Oh.
It was time to leave already.
You took a deep breath as you entered Reality once more, re-initiating the cycle.
No.
Something sparked, drawn deep from the roots of the tree that was now your mind. It spoke in a crisp voice that was neither yours nor His. No, it was the voice of Reality itself.
An intangible mass of primal energy rushed through your head in less than a second. Or, was it an hour? Time meant nothing, as you were filled with the secrets of the universe, urging you to escape this endless cycle. You drew on this power, absorbing knowledge from the dawn of time. This, this is what it meant to be an Immortal! And it only took being murdered thousands of times to realise.
And then...
It snapped. The connection, the energy, the fruit bearing tree that was your mind. Flowing away from you in torrents was not only Reality, but fragments of yourself, too.
This was Corruption.
***
I walked into the room, never deviating from the path I set for myself years ago. I needed to do this every day now, simply to fulfill my purpose, to stop myself from reverting to an animalistic state. The curved blade I loved balanced in my hand, ready for another day's work.
They were there. Of course, they always were. I did not know exactly how being immortal worked, but I knew that as the clock struck midnight each night, they reverted.
Time to get to business. I plastered a grin on my face, to show I was as insane as I was ruthless. I delicately released the lock, and
***
You looked up. There he was, in all his psychopathic glory. You quickly drew out of his mind, to prevent suspicion. He was confused as to why you were not running, but you knew it was not necessary today. When pieces of You left, the swirling Void was replaced by emotion. Carefully, you selected a calm and calculated anger. You drew it towards the front of your mind, and clicked it into place, as if this was natural.
You rose, looking him directly in the eye. While his murderous facade was not broken, you knew that the eye contact made him uneasy. Your movements were suddenly graceful, in a way that was beyond humanity. In the breaking of the connection, you were left in limbo between a human and a god-like entity.
That was fine.
In a leisurely pace, you made your way into the room. It would have been simple to break the locks mentally, however, this murderer had to be removed from this universe. You spoke your first words in months, and were surprised to find how level your voice sounded.
"Strike me, please. I dare you."
The surprise was quickly suppressed, and it was his turn to be surprised. It was only a mere flicker, but it broke the intense pressure he was placing upon you.
While it would have been easy to dispose of the low life scum, you still possessed a moral compass.
You disarmed him effortlessly, and mentally drilled his brain. Why, why, why?
You scanned the network of cells, neurons, and thoughts. He lost focus, and the cracks began to show. His facade fell apart, and he was nothing more than anyone else.
After all, he was only human.
You shifted the emotion back to the recess of your mind, and selected more. A cocktail of different emotions and personalities perfectly crafted to suit your needs were right at your fingertips. Or rather, your Mind's fingertips.
***
Corruption was different. Living life as a being that was both incomplete and over complicated at the same time was difficult, however no more so than before. Reality seemed more... Pure. This was how life was meant to be experienced.
If there is one thing I learned about being an Immortal, it was that I never found myself until I was murdered, corrupted, destroyed, and had to piece myself back together.
***
AN// Let me know what you thought of the second person? I have always wanted to write something in second person, but I have never really found a topic I wanted to write about. Here it is, I guess! Thanks for reading! // | 2016-10-29T08:36:06 | 2016-10-29T08:11:46 | 507 | 114 |
[WP] "They mass-slaughter this organism called "flowers" and give the bound mass of corpses to their desired mate as a courting ritual, possibly as proof of ability. Truly fascinating."
Replace with other weird behaviors as desired
Edit: Mod's Choice and #1 in Hot in 5 hours? woohoo! | "Overall, humans have proven themselves to be a peculiar bunch, their idiosyncrasies far surpassing that of most intergalactic species - most certainly our own."
The virtual classroom abruptly ended, and Tesh'Cun found himself wanting to move there even more. He knew it was against the law, but he never really felt at home in Quasiar - and after his recent spate of murders, he felt it was probably time to leave.
He'd need to be able to fit in though. And ideally, he'd like a position of power, of respect. And he'd need a name, a human name...
Ted... Ted Cruz.
He liked the sound of that.
*****
*****
If you didn't completely hate that, consider subscribing to [my new subreddit.](https://www.reddit.com/r/CroatianSpy/)
I'll try add new (and old) stories every day <3 | “As you can see, the pre-telekentically evolved human is about to perform a mating ritual practiced by the males in its lineage for several generations now.” Came the soothing voice of the narrator of the critically acclaimed nature documentary, ‘Pre-evolved Humans and their Societal Functions’. The work could only be described as a masterpiece.
On the holoscreen, the watchers saw a video reenactment of a young, human male picking flowers. The audience watched in bated silence as the man, wearing an odd assortment of clothing that blended into a semblance of an ensemble, plucked several flowers from the earth outside of his home.
“Observe as the young male kills the innocent wildlife around him; this wildlife, which serves many important purposes to the natural order, will now be removed through the selfish actions of the human male.” The announcer’s voice stated.
The audience watched the human male savagely cut off roses and tulips from their roots dug deep underground; roots which had spent so much time and energy gathering sustenance for the beautiful flower to grow and bloom.
“While some skeptics may argue that this was a necessary part of the human mating ritual, it has been noted that flowers were not necessary to win a human female. In fact, many times the act of gathering flowers did not even lead to the act of reproduction. It is in this way that the action of flower picking is selfish. It is performed on a petty whim, and removes the flowers much needed pollen from the bumble bees who so desperately rely on flower’s pollen and nectar for the creation of honey.”
The announcer takes a pause. On screen the human male can be seen presenting the hastily gathered flowers to a potential mate. The human female looks in disgust at the male’s weak attempts at courtship, and showcases her disgust by removing him from her social media circles, and talking about his failed attempts to her friends Betty and Susan.
“Yes, it appears that the human male has failed in his courtship. In an act of utter arrogance, we know see the human disposing of the flowers into an artificial garbage can, rather than returning the precious organic material to the earth, where it rightly belongs.”
The audience could hardly believe their eyes. There are shakes of the head and mutterings as they watch the wasteful action. These flowers, which were once destined to feed a colony of bees, their organic matter which was to return to the soil and enrich the ground, were now rotting away in a waste receptacle. Such wasteful actions were sinful to a society who had learned to reuse and coexist with their environ.
“Yes, It would seem that the pre-telekenetic human race was only interested in themselves. We see it time and time again, how the human mind focuses only on the superficial. Next, we will focus on the human politician in the early twenty first century, and their almost unanimous disbelief in climate change. Truly, an amazing feat of ignorance that current humans simply aren’t capable of experiencing with our advanced craniums.” The announcer said, transitioning to the next scene in the documentary.
------------------
Hope you liked it. I've got some other stuff over at r/ThadsMind | 2016-11-23T08:19:08 | 2016-11-23T08:00:48 | 1,143 | 48 |
[WP] "The light can never go out," explained the old lighthouse operator. "Ships don't need us. Haven't in quite some time. It's the people here on land who'll suffer if that light ever goes out." | "The light can never go out," explained the old lighthouse operator. "Ships don't need us. Haven't in quite some time. It's the people here on land who'll suffer if that light ever goes out."
I blinked, confused, not sure I heard correctly. "Sir?"
He rolled his shoulders, as if a great weight sat on them, and looked at me with regret deep in his eyes. "The light. It keeps the Shadow Folk at bay."
I kept my face carefully blank, internally panicking at what I had gotten into. When I was assigned this post I thought it would be a cushion job, something easy. The others in my unit had remarked upon my good fortune with jealously. Days at the beach with pretty girls, followed by easy nights just making sure the power stayed on.
But here I was, stuck with this crazy old man who thinks a glorified nightlight will protect him from the monsters.
My thoughts must have shown in my face, because he just shook his head, "You'll see" and walked away back to his office, leaving me to explore on my own.
The light house was old, the stairs welded securely into the signature spiral up to the top. The light itself was now electric, but room that housed it still smelled of oil. Centuries of smoke having woven itself deep into the bricks left them dingy no matter how many times they were scrubbed. The metal plating that turned was mirror bright, obviously freshly cleaned.
I went to a railing and looked out over the sea, my thoughts more turbulent than the still waters. Twilight was fast approaching, and as the sunset painted itself across the sky, I relaxed. Perhaps it wouldn't be so bad. So I had to deal with one crazy old man, he was retiring anyway. I wouldn't have to deal with him much longer.
As the sun dipped down past the horizon, the light sputtered on as it came to life, the metal plating beginning it's slow rotation. I watched the ocean blink in and out of existence as the darkness spread. I decided to walk around the outside railing, surveying my new post. When I got to the back half of the Lighthouse, I stopped, breath freezing in my chest.
There they were. Hundreds of them, their eyes like yellow pinpricks in the night. Dark figures against a darkening sky. Fear coiled in my belly as I sensed their maliciousness from afar. It was like a physical thing, palpable in the fresh night air. Slowly the light turned, and when the beacon fell on them, they vanished. When it turned back there they were again, same spot. Same numbers. Just watching, as if waiting for something.
I felt someone come up next to me, and turned to see the old keeper. He had a sour look on his face as he looked out at the strange army, before turning to me, "They can't abide the light. This is why we need someone here to tend to it. To ensure it never goes out"
I stammered, "...h-h-how? W-w-what are they?"
He shrugged, "No one knows. But they come, every night, watching, waiting. It's up to you to keep them at bay." He paused, clearly wanting to say more, but settled on, "Good luck."
He gently reached out with one gnarled hand, squeezed my shoulder, than was gone. Leaving me alone in the dark. | After days of sifting through the belongings her papa didn't need anymore, the new lighthouse keeper crept upstairs to watch the last bit of hope be extinguished. There was no need for it anymore. Her papa had owned the deed on the land, but it was the town who paid for the light.
The mayor had decided to put the funds set aside for upkeep of the lighthouse into a pay raise for the teachers. It was supposed to honor her papa who had led the teacher's union for years and had been teaching up until the day he'd died.
Ana hadn't been able to sell the land, although her daughter and son-in-law had tried to convince her otherwise. It was her childhood home and she traveled so much for work that it didn't feel like it mattered where she called home.
People who knew a lot more than her about lighthouses came and fiddled with a panel. She heard deep, mechanical clicks that sounded more like the solemn tone of a bell. Then, they bid her good day and left with their tools.
She put her hand on the cool glass and wondered why her papa had insisted that the light was not for ships, but for the town. She smiled when she lifted her hand away and didn't see any dust or smudges besides her own handprint.
She went back downstairs to continue wiping at her eyes as she went through old photo albums and tried not to get anything important dirty with grease from a pizza one of the people in town had gotten delivered to her.
The next morning, Ana woke up to stillness. It seemed to be so sombre, fog rolling in from the ocean in the cool morning. The sky was still dark, but light was starting to come in. She made herself a cup of coffee and gazed out onto the ocean, listening to the crash of waves against the cliffside.
She closed her eyes and smiled at the familiar smell of ocean breeze. After a moment, she cracked one eye open and realized something was wrong. She hadn't heard a single gull screaming about the sun.
She blinked and scanned the horizon as if she thought she'd spot any. It was then that she realized the sky was still pitch black.
A glance at the clock on the stove told her it was 9:42 am. Before Ana could process this, she heard a deep, rumbling click and then a siren began wailing in the town below.
She quickly wrapped herself up in a house robe and kicked on a pair of slippers. As she grabbed the handle of the front door, she heard a hissing and popping sound from right outside that made her stop. On edge, she waited for it to stop, but it only devolved into what sounded like a man coughing.
Ana looked around the room for a baseball bat or anything she can use as a weapon. Deep in her gut was the feeling that she should have something to defend herself with. Mounted on the mantle was an old flail next to her family crest. She pried it off the wall and went to answer the door, hefting the heavy flail into a position she hoped would let gravity do most of the work.
It was a man in a suit.
Ana blinked for a moment at him, not quite sure what she'd been expecting. She started to feel embarrassment rise when the man suddenly smiled too wide, too big and started to speak, "Ana Connswell, the new lighthouse keeper. I am here to give you a very special offer, any wish you--"
The flail hit his head with a satisfying crack before Ana let herself think too much about it.
His skull caved and Ana was jerked forward by the momentum. After a bit of tugging and sickening squelching, she was fully upright again. Four other men glared at her.
The biggest stepped forward menacingly, his steps burning the grass and melting a plastic frog, "You fool. You would have been granted anything. Now, we, the servants of--"
A louder crack and a metallic thunk as the sidewise swipe smashed the man into the side of the lighthouse. It was easier to pull back this time. Ana frowned at the three remaining... men? Demons? Horrors? She didn't know, but after having an English teacher for a father, the cold stare she sent their way had them glancing between themselves nervously.
She stepped back into the lighthouse and closed the door. After a pause, she also slid the deadbolt in place. She let herself put the flail down for a moment to still her shaking hands and then was off, up the narrow lighthouse steps to the top.
With the 360 degree view, she could see the chaos raging in the town below. Creatures chasing the dots of civilians and fires ravaging homes while sirens still cried under the black sky.
Ana knew it didn't take a genius to follow a simple chain of events.
She'd watch them undo the lighthouse yesterday, so she just worked the switches in the reverse sequence. Each click gave that deep tone, but seemed to shake the ground with it. With every step closer, the ground shook more violently.
As the light finally flared to life, the black sky seemed to edge away. The sirens still wailed and, as Ana made her way to look down at the town, fires still raged.
Yet, the new lighthouse keeper learned a very important first lesson: When you die in that place, you don't die in real life. You can, however, be horribly traumatized.
Later that day, she would learn her second lesson: Lighthouses don't work if the town's transformer gets blown up in a fire. However, lighthouses accept blood sacrifices as a form of power and aren't really picky about if the blood is human or not. | 2017-02-22T11:59:42 | 2017-02-22T11:50:51 | 113 | 28 |
[WP] Ever since a horrific traffic accident years ago you have had a reoccurring song going around in your head. Although heavily researched, this song doesn't exist and there is no reference to it at all. Your at a bar, washing your hands in the toilets when a man walks in faintly singing a tune. | This is it. This is the song that had plagued me for decades, the song that ruined my chance for marriage. I ask the man his name, and as he stared at me with his white, empty, fluffy eyes, he replied "Joe"
I knew it, of course. Ever since that Godforsaken day, his name has been etched into my every waking moment. No one knew who he is, no one knew the song, but I know, I know that if it hadn't been for Cotton-Eye Joe, I'd be married a long time ago.
One question now remained on my mind, 'where did you come from?' And my mouth moved to ask but all that emerged was a wordless yell as anger forced its way out and into a fist that swung towards him only to catch nothing but empty air.
"Where did you go?" The question goes answered as Joe is nowhere to be found, and with resigned frustration I yelled out "Cotton-eye Joe!" | The pain in my right shoulder always got to me in cold rooms, and this restaurant was really cold. I tried not to think back to the accident as my arm ached. They had to rebuild my arm after a piece of the clutch assembly had somehow shot up at an angle to get lodged in my deltoid.
I watched my feet as I hummed that tune. The one I didn't know until after the accident. I had assumed that I had just made it up like I had a dozen times before. Some a-tonal nonsense. But as time went on I started to sing words, lyrics. It wasn't until my girlfriend at the time pointed it out that I realized that it was in another language. I don't speak any other languages.
I did my restroom business and went to wash my hands. That's when I heard the tune, but it wasn't me it was the guy washing his hands beside me.
We looked at each other in the mirror, our heads slowly turning to meet each others eyes, not wanting to let go lest the other disappear. I hummed the next bar, it was simple but catchy, and he chimed in with the lyrics. The restroom rang with our harmony. I had started to drum on the counter, and beatboxing while he sang the lyrics. I still didn't know what the words meant, they were in some other language. The door opened and a perplexed octogenarian stopped mid-stride and oogled us.
"Where did you pick that up?" I asked.
Suddenly his eyes were filled with fear, his head darted around like prey looking for an exit. He quickly stepped past the elderly man, and out the door. I followed him out into the restaurant. Not only was this place cold as a freezer, but it was huge. I saw his head bobbing along quickly on the other side of some plants. He turned to look around, caught sight of me, and ran out of the door.
I ran towards the exit, my date calling after me. She probably thought I was getting the hell out of there, and I had considered it after some of the stories she told me. I saw him running down the hall, more of a lobby really, making for the front doors.
I ran, despite the mounting pain in my shoulder. I could see him, thank goodness for glass walls. He stopped at the edge of the sidewalk, turned around and with horror on his face turned back and ran out into the road. I barely caught a glimpse of the truck that hit him. Only after the suddenness wore off did my brain acknowledge the sound, and sight.
Nearly a mile up the road a crowd was gathering around the truck. I walked up holding my shoulder, the pain making me dizzy. There he lay on the ground, dead as a rock. I heard that tune again. It wasn't me. Was it? No. The door of the truck was open, it was coming from the radio. Then it got louder. More real. It was coming from the people around me. Some were humming. Some were singing. The pain pulled me to the ground. I blacked out. | 2018-08-29T18:26:04 | 2018-08-29T17:52:59 | 43 | 24 |
[WP] You won't hold heroes hostages to torture them. You won't throw a hero against a wall once you have them by the neck. You sure won't start monologuing if you have a hero at gunpoint. You're the deadliest villain in history. A villian without an ego. | I held the pistol against Captain Seraph’s forehead.
“What are you gonna do, shoot me?”
The gunshot echoed down 5th and Market. Shrieks, gasps, and then a silence. Her lifeless body fell over an uneven fan of bloodspatter in the middle of the street.
*Let’s let the world know who you really are.*
I knelt down, pulled off her mask, and tossed it aside. Behind the mask was a soft, freckled face, caramel skin, and emerald eyes. I watched as blood seeped out from where the bullet had entered, and streaked down to meet with the pool soaking the concrete.
*She was just a fucking teenager. Just some stupid, reckless kid.*
Standing, I put my gun on safety and looked around. The cars had stopped, civilians were at a distance, either in fear of me or the situation.
“You may carry on with your lives, or you may join her.” | Ultra Man watched his grapple soar up and over the roof of the abandoned warehouse. There was a satisfying clink, and in seconds he was speeding upwards. From his new vantage he looked out across the city and saw pulsating red and blue lights as the man hunt continued. *Probably for the best that it's just me*, he thought as he put his grappling gun back in it's holster and turned to see a skylight windows ahead of him.
"Bingpot."
Stepping forward he looked down, and was greeted by all sorts of dastardly machinery, with blinking lights and hard to understand interfaces. He'd seen this equipment once before, the last time Electro had escaped his grasp. Strangely, there were no henchman operating the devices.
Without thinking he stomped down onto the glass, and almost fell through ungracefully as the skylight shattered. He lowered himself carefully through the broken shards of glass, then deployed his trusty wings. Gliding down serenely he saw that the room was abandoned, seemingly in the middle of a party. *What could a man so sinister possibly have to party about?* Ultra Man landed next to a machine.
Before he had more time to take in his surroundings, there was a pounding on a plain brown door he hadn't noticed before.
"Guys! Can you let me in? I think I left my keys." a voice said through the door.
Ultra Man hesitated briefly, before walking silently to the door. He leaned into the peephole, only to see a brown haired man in jeans and a T-shirt smiling back at him. Ultra Man unlocked the door and rared back his right fist. It swung open immediately, and Ultra Man watched the man's eyes widen at his caped crusading image.
"Where's Electro?!" Ultra Man demanded.
"Uhm, ah uh- Electro?"
"Yes, your boss, were is he?"
"He... uh, he left."
"Not likely. The cops are swarming this town, everyone in the city is on the lookout."
"I think I saw him in the alley out back." the man said suddenly, as if remembering.
Ultra man pushed him aside, and ran through the door to find himself in an alley all alone. After checking all of the dark corners, he walked calmly back into the door.
"You know, I was going to go easy you if you cooperated." he said.
He froze in the middle of his entrance. There was a loud bang. He felt a strange warmth down his stomach, and looked down to see his black suit covered in crimson. Before he knew what was happening he was on his knees. The man from before stood holding a pistol off to his immediate right.
"I knew you'd come after me, Ultra Man, but I was hoping you wouldn't. You always had the most heart out of all you little heroes. I'm almost sorry to tell you it's over. Now that I've gone through with it, nobody needs you or I any more." he said, before raising the pistol to his temple and pulling the trigger.
Ultra Man felt himself fade very slowly.
___
/r/Periapoapsis exists | 2018-10-18T13:42:07 | 2018-10-18T13:35:32 | 1,098 | 396 |
[WP] They stare at your glowing eyes in fear. "You're not human!" They scream in fear. You sigh. "That's rude. I'm PLENTY human. On my mother's side." | Karen pulled back in fear, her eyes widening in understanding.
“Your mother’s side.” She echoed through numbed lips. “W..what of your father?”
“Um. Also human?” I said, now more than a bit confused.
“But you said-“
“Yeah, it’s called a joke Karen. Wait? Did you really think that I was a monster or something? Like, seriously? You're not joking?” I asked incredulously.
“But your eyes! They’re glowing!” Her fear was abating, replaced by a confusion that now mirrored my own, but there was still a bit of nervousness peeking out from behind her words.
“Yeah, it’s called red eye. Or it's a lens flair. Or a thousand other tricks of the camer-wait. Wait. Are you honest to god telling me that you’ve never seen someone’s eyes go wonky in a picture before, and you really thought I was a monster because of a single shitty picture on your two-hundred year old, dropped a thousand times smart phone?” I couldn't believe what I was hearing.
A warm pink glow slowly spread over Karen’s cheeks as she looked sheepishly at the phone in her hand. The silliness of her becoming alarmed at my poorly made joke washed over her and she chuckled uncertainly as she ran her hand through her hair, absently tucking a wayward lock behind one cute ear.
“You know, you don't have to be a jerk.” She chided softly as she turned away.
“And you don't have to be so gullible. OoOOh I'm a mOOonsteeEr.” I laughed as I slowly unhinged my jaw and closed the gap between us. | "Somebody call the cops, now!"
"Not the cops man, they are simply going to shoot me the minute they see me."
"Don't fucking move, monster"
The family starts screaming louder and louder, attracting more people, and in a couple minutes I find myself sorrounded by an angry mob.
"Kill the mongrel!" "Put him down!" "Back to space whith you!"
I am cornered now, whit a lot of angry faces staring at me.I hear a sudden gunshot.
Pain at the base of my chest, screams of surprise and approval from the crowd, blood on my jacket. I need to act, or I will die here and now.
I scream, louder than anyone in the mob, a sharp acute sound that echoes trough the night and breaks the windshield of the car. The same car that ran over me only ten minutes ago. To think that the family was terrified at the tought of injuring a human, but decided to rally a mob after seeing my eyes.
My father's heritage. After recovering from my scream, half the mob starts to run away terrified , while the other half begins screamimg even louder than before. They are galvanized by the gunshot, too furios to stop.
I can't flee. I must fight my way trough. I ignore the pain and clench my jaw as I step up, challenging them all whith an intimidating look.
Two of them move forward: one of them is a biker wearing a sleeveless hide coat and a pair of rugged jeans. He has a tatoo of a knife skinning a horned lizard on his right arm. That's how they see my family: a bunch of alien lizards whith glowing eyes.
The second guy is clearly an ex-marine, standing perfectly straight, dressed in a uniform and holding a gun. He is the one who shot me, and I know why he did. When I meet his eyes, I see only hatred and fury towards what I am. I hold my ground as the biker charges forward and tries to grab my neck. At the last moment, I punch him in the abdomen and I follow up whith a circular fist to the head. He tries to duck, but he is too slow. I feel the sudden crack of his jaw as it dislodges. He falls to the grond and reaches for his face, screaming in pain. As I turn to face the soldier he shoots me again, this time in the leg. I fall on the ground again but this time, I get back up in a matter of seconds: the fighting hormones have kicked in, I ignore the pain and charge towards the man. He tries to shoot again but I hit him on the arm and he loses grip on the gun. He dodges backwards and pulls out a knife from his belt. He lunges forward and stabz me right in the chest.
I grab his neck and lift him up, before trowing him against the crowd. Silence falls as he lands on them. They stare at me, shocked. Then I roar. They leave the two wouded behind as they flee, terrified by me.
But that wasn't my roar: it was the warning of two hundred thousands individuals, delivering a message.
We are done being your punchbags, we are tired of looking behind our backs in fear of beig hunted down, we will stand up for ourselves.
We gave you five years to understand us, and you wasted them. Now we will fight, and you will understand our fear.
I pull the knife out of my chest and I look at it. The words engraved on the blade recite:" Kill or be killed"
I scream again, and thanks to the alien bones in my neck, my scream echoes trough the night. I rallied my brothers and sisters. Tomorrow, we will start the new war. We will avenge our fallen and we will reclaim our place on Earth.
*Krundgheran svhe tiss.*
The Krundgheran fight togheder. | 2019-05-02T07:06:11 | 2019-05-02T06:29:26 | 17 | 10 |
[WP] Earth is dying. We've developed great spaceships to take as many people as possible to a new world. There's not enough room for everybody, but at the news of a great coming catastrophe people flock to leave. However it seems that the rich and powerful are the only ones choosing to stay... | Earth is a massive fluke on the cosmic scale of things. It's in the goldilocks zone of life, has an abundant supply of water on the surface, and enough carbon for life to arise. Among the near-infinite multitude of planets that humanity had observed, the earth was the only viable planet for sustaining human life. Space colonies would inevitably succumb to lack of resources. We possessed the tech to build generation ships. But at their current speed, it didn't matter if the people slept for a century; they would not get anywhere. After 100 years on the ship, they would wake up to find themselves with a years supply of food; in the dark of space with no hope of finding a planet. They would be very upset with my company for sending them out there; we promised them a world after all. A century in the future my, friends and I would surely be dead. Besides — once they locked into the hibernation pods and set the course, they were no longer my problem. However, they could feel free to call our complaint line; which would take a few thousand years to reach us.
These people all wanted out. Why? Our planet was dying. Scientists had many exciting ideas to explain the death of the earth. Some said that industry was the culprit; the excessive release of Co2 was causing a greenhouse effect. Early in the game, our representatives denied any such claims. Considering we owned the factories, what else could we do? While everyone was beating around the bush and trying to gain traction for their dubious ideas, we all agreed that there was a problem. A solution was paramount. Many social movements emerged to clean up trash, use paper straws, and to drive electric cars.
By 2060 the situation was no better, and our lithium supply was damn-near depleted. That's when my friends and I truly understood one thing: the problem was an abundance of people. With that problem unaddressed it didn't matter what we did, the biosphere was compromised. That's when we came up with the generation ship initiative. The presidents of the world were initially hesitant when we pitched our idea, but they need campaign funding. And where do you think they get it?
With world leaders on board, there was still a big challenge - getting the people on board. Who in their right mind would leave the only livable planet? Only people who feared the worst of earth and hoped for some exo-planet we could conjure up. Somehow they fell for the idea that Alpha Centauri C was a viable planet (complete wasteland, by the way, folks up in NASA couldn't believe it when we pitched it). They were reticent to speak out about it, but we cleaned out the lower ranks - just in case.
&#x200B;
While we had the public looking to the sky, we, turned ours to the ground. The subterranean started construction in 2019, we were hopeful back then that we wouldn't have to use it. But in retrospect, I am glad I didn't shoot down the idea. It's cool down here, 60 degrees Fahrenheit day and night. My life of luxury down here is more excellent than it ever was before the ships left. I have no fears about putting this memo on your ship, and as I said, I am probably decades-dead at this point. All of you will perish in the dark of space, I have toasted to you dead men and women every dinner. Ultimately, that is the cost that I have paid to secure future life.
&#x200B;
So — a toast to new beginnings! | first it was thousands of years away.
then it was hundreds.
then it was barely a lifetime.
global warming and a consumeristic society slowly took its toll on our planet. the younger generations were forced to watch helplessly as the oblivious, the ignorant, the self-indulgent, wreaked havoc upon our fragile ecosystem.
scientists were tearing their hair out, screaming at the masses to listen as they found the answers, but too late. sea levels were rising rapidly. the average temperature rested at 30° with summer well on its way with promises of searing, blistering, relentless heat. humanity was desperate. finally, everyone saw the truth, but too late...
we now had 3 years.
finally, a few months ago, NASA managed to locate one inhabitable planet. using deep space probes and soundwaves of telekinetic energy, not to mention the most advanced telescopes we had, planet 7KSA90 (or gaia) was located 4000 light years away.
desperately, we spent the next 2 years building 5 spaceships designed to carry one million passengers each. we stashed as many recources as we could. air recycling tanks and water pumps gave us indoor aquaculture and agriculture to sustain the lucky few to get on board. but no one even thought of how many would survive, just the question of if any would survive.
the ships were equipped with the most up-to-date technology and equipment. i, like all other ship captains, were given the order that if a ship was damaged, we must leave them. we all accepted in grim silence.
of course, we all knew that we would never reach gaia. neither would our children. this space voyage would take 4000 years travelling at the speed of light, and so we had to trust the next generation to keep going. to follow the coordinates and survive.
finally, the day came that the spaceships were ready. day 972 since our 3 year deadline was set. with only an estimated 123 days left until the world was so overcome by heat the core would expand and burn everything on its surface was near. countries such as new zealand, most of europe and indonesia were long gone. only desolate, uninhabitable parts of australia remained. through the construction time of the ships, famine, disease, drought, war and overpopulation had overcome the world. desperate calls for help from countries in anarchy came every day, but we did not answer one. all of america's recources were thrown into the manufacture of the space ships that would carry those who remained to safety.
some even believed they were trying to kill off those who wouldnt fit in the ships, to erase the guilt of leaving them behind.
then the day came, 100 days from total destruction, to select the fated few who would be allowed to live. the choice rested on the presidents shoulders to choose who would live and who would die.
i was beyond glad that i and my family were guaranteed a spot.
but, then a miraculous thing happened. one by one, the richest and most powerful volunteered.
the kardashians, the trumps, the royal family, famous bands and singers.
suddenly they were all happy to stay behind, and no one understood why.
was it that earth wasnt actually doomed and we were being sent to our deaths? was there a secret plan to evacuate the rich to a better planet? (i knew that that wasnt true, of course.) some believed that they were staying behinds because they were honourable, some thought they were ignorant and didnt know the world was dying. but any time they were asked, they would just smile and shake their heads.
not a word left their lips on why they chose to make this ultimate sacrifice for humanity.
finally, when we could feel the bubbles of rising lava under our feet, when doom was mere months away, we boarded the ships with questions burning on our lips like our world was burning under our feet.
nobody could understand why the most selfish, the most consumeristic of us all, would choose to stay and die, rather than secure the first places available.
without them, the remainder of the human race fit comfortably into the space crafts, those who chose to die waving us off like they didnt have a care in the world.
still, we did not know why they chose to stay.
a few months into our journey, we detected an incoming signal from a faraway server. i hesitantly picked it up "mission survivor ship 05, captain carter robinson speaking." out of the receiver came a distorted voice, desperate and pleading. 4 sentences that have haunted me since: "help, im from earth. the core is expanding and we need rescue. we didnt believe this would actually happen. please save us." i almost couldnt respond. finally, i managed to gather coherence of thought and reply "im so sorry, but we are months away from your galaxy and you are days away from destruction. im afraid we cannot help you." i waited for a reply, but all i heard was rattling and obstructed breaths jolting out of the receiver. a weight of guilt was in my heart as i realised the fate that had fallen on those left behind.
they werent going to a better planet, they werent sending us to our doom.
their ignorance had been their downfall.
their belief that money and power made them invincible slapped them in the face with reality.
with a heavy heart, i realised the person had hung up, and i gently placed the receiver down.
a few days later, on the 21st of June 2nd, a powerful explosion was detected on the radar, and at 2.14pm, we held a moment of silence for those who unknowingly sacrificed themselves.
and that weight of guilt has not left my chest since. | 2019-08-27T01:53:55 | 2019-08-27T01:47:45 | 27 | 20 |
[WP] you're in your bed about to go to sleep, with your arm dangling off the side. You feel a dark hand grasp yours, knowing first impressions are important you give it a firm shake. The next thing you hear from under your bed is "you're hired" | “Excellent.” I replied, and I went back to bed.
It’s been 6 months and I’m still not sure what my job is. Most of the time I just get blood signed paperwork that appears on my desk so I sort that by alphabetical order and color and it disappears overnight. Once I got seven jars of these pink slugs with sharp teeth. I bought them some fish food and the next day a reimbursement was left in their place. What I do know about my job, I get PTO, I don’t get overtime, I have holidays off as well as every other weekend, I have medical and it covers dental and lastly, I lost employee of the month to someone named Ted. Fuck Ted.
Most days it’s just various objects that I sort into piles. Some things are weird and creepy like spiders, bones, various colors of slime and fur covered teeth. Some things are pleasant like scented candles and pictures of kittens. Somedays I get weird requests like updating contact information for strange contacts. Once there was just an empty hamster cage and the next day a letter saying “thanks for watching my fish.” I’m still not sure what that monster wanted me to do or if I’ll ever meet him again, but if I do, I’ll be sure to thank him for this great opportunity.
Edit: I proofread it and fixed some of the spelling errors and removed the random letters I left between spaces. Not going to fix the grammar because it’s already been read. Thanks for the support everyone! | The hustle and bustle of my desk job was getting the best of me. I was exhausted from replaying the same day over and over again. I was just ready to go home and go to bed to forget it all, so I packed up and headed that way. I could barely make it through my shower, and skipped dinner just to jump into bed and forget it all.
As soon as laid down, I felt sleep taking my body over. So I laid my phone down and flipped over. My arm and leg were dangling off the side of my twin size college bed, that I had brought to my studio apartment because I was too poor to buy a bigger bed.
All the sudden I felt the grasp of a hand in my hand and it shook me awake. I grabbed back in the confusion of sleep and a man yelled back at me “you’re hired!” I felt his arm pull me under the bed and I felt myself falling for what felt like an eternity. Finally, I fell on my feet. I felt dizzy, but I caught myself before falling to the ground again, and I looked up. I rubbed my eyes because I couldn’t believe my eyes.
But what I saw was still there. The devil in the flesh!! Had I died and gone to hell? I wasn’t a terrible person, but I wasn’t good either. I didn’t go to church, I cussed a lot and I had to drink to deal with my desk job. But I had never murdered anyone.
“Hello,” said the devil and jolted me out of my thoughts. And I jumped back. “I’ve brought you here for an important reason. It seems that hell is more popular than heaven theses days so we’ve expanded hell, and I need more demons to wrestle the evil down here.”
I looked around and I didn’t see any flames, just a forest with the devil and a few men that had a monsters face. He caught me in thought and answered for me , “ahhh yes. No flames here - it’s a beautiful place. The fire is a myth. But through each of these doors- is a personal hell for each person.” All of the sudden some of trees had knobs. And it threw me off balance. “Open one, and you’ll enter one persons hell. It’s all in their minds. I need you to work the north part of the forest. It’s the expanded part of the forest.
The north side of the forest houses all the murders and greed. If you agree to this - I will spare you the pain of your own hell.” And finally I spoke - “why me? I’m not even a bad person. I’m not demon material. And I’m not even dead. Don’t you need someone with more experience?”
The devil smiled and said, “you’re exactly what we’re looking for. I’ll need you in 7 years. We’ll seal it with a hand shake and in return, I will give you 5 good years on earth, and 2 years of hell to prepare. If you deny me- you will enter hell now as a resident.” So I grabbed his hand and I felt a sting on my wrist. All the sudden my vision blurred and I closed my eyes and felt water hitting my face hard.
All the sudden I opened my eyes and I was laying on the floor of my shower. Confused I jumped up and felt the back of my head where the pain was and felt a knot. I must have fell and hit my head. Thank god that was a bad dream, I thought. All the sudden I caught a glimpse of my wrist with 7 carved in it. I screamed. | 2019-08-30T08:41:18 | 2019-08-30T07:23:59 | 16 | 11 |
[WP] With total war as a concept alien to the rest of our galaxy, All saw humans as negotiators and peacemakers, soft and weak. Today is the day when the galaxy discovers why being so good at finding ways to avoid war was a survival mechanism. | *Si vis pacem, para bellum.*
“Mr. President, what is the purpose of this Sacred Council If not to arbitrate between the disputing parties? Should the council be derelict in her duty, her mandate shall stand voided. The lofty words in its constitution shall ring hollow in this great hall where all the sentient beings of the universe were welcome once. Where no species was deemed higher or lower in the eye of the Galactic law. Should that eventuality arise, we shall have no other recourse but to find justice by alternate means.”
“Alternate means you say? What are these alternate means through which you will find what you deem to be a just conclusion of this debate?” The ambassador to the Crab Nebula system chimed in. Subtlety of his derisive tone was obviated by laughter of his supporters in council. His smug sense of superiority well deserved.
“Make no mistake honorable councilmembers, I do not see the humor in this situation. In fact, I see only chaos and destruction if the council will not intervene.”
“Your words fail to impress us. You wordsmiths, thinking apes as you call yourselves. What do you know of war? Of death and destruction? You were cocooned in your little corner in Milky Way while the war raged across the whole quadrant at the conclusion of which we decided to form this council. Your people work as scribes, philosophers, teachers, and entertainers. Your jokes especially are funnier than the rest. Or so I thought until now.” Chuckles across the council followed.
“Then, Mr. President, I must inform you that humanity will no longer be responsible for the consequences. Justice in our way of thinking is universal. It cannot vary with the whims of the select few or even a tyrannical majority. And for this principle we shall go to any end necessary.”
“Come now, Ambassador. Have a drink. Soothe your heated tongue and wounded heart.”
The president felt that the proceedings were spiralling out of control. He had never known any human ambassador to be so assertive in his life - and he had seen some four hundred human ambassadors come and go in his diplomatic career. Puny, fragile, ephemeral beings! He had often wondered how they had come to dominate the Earth and the Helios system.
“I am not a being, Mr. President. I am the voice of the will of humanity. So I choose my words carefully to reflect it. And let my words be taken as they sound - no more and no less.”
The Human Ambassador paused.
The Committee on the Galactic Relations of Earth Parliament had instructed him before his voyage back to the planet Meelore where the council sat. He was called back because it was deemed too risky to discuss it over the GalacticNet. They had authorized him to do all that he could to avoid the terrible outcome, but if it were to prove unavoidable then it was to be his solemn duty to proclaim formally that humanity shall seek recompense in a way she had long renounced.
War.
“Oathbreakers, beware! Our politeness is not instinctive. Our humility is not innate. Our bonhomie is nurtured from the first day a human child is born. Let not the this body rue the day when she convinced us that we must act on our baser nature to achieve a greater end.”
“Do your worst.”
Someone from the backbenches heckled. Breaking the spell. It was received with approving grunts all over. What could these soft, obsequious beings do? The rest of the galaxy will not be cowed by this upstart race and their mere words!
“We shall take your suggestion very seriously, representative Ercheon of Seven Sisters system. But permit me to also suggest something.” The human ambassador was almost shouting now, over the uproar that had broken out.
“We do not seek vengeance.” He thumped the desk. “We seek justice. We give this council five earth days to deliver it to us. If you do so, that justice will be benevolent. But if we must obtain it, it shall be grim. It shall be cruel. It shall be horrific.”
Everyone was listening once again, he observed.
“Presume us withdrawn from this council should you choose to let the ultimatum run out, Mr. President. Thenceforth, there shall be no more parlay. No more negotiations. And no mercy. Only war, and utter victory or vanquishment.” | **“Humanity is poorly suited to most everything excepting one, Death.” -Sharthan Remembrancer Ta’aliq 2174**
To’shan stood over his prey, the magnetic coils of his plasma rifle whining as they contained the burning fire within.
“You are bested Hu’man.” His voice a deep baritone rumble, his armoured jaw clicking as he rendered the words in standard. “Surrender and you will live on in a labour camp or perhaps even a servant in one of the noble houses”
The human, a gaunt boy stared back at the Sharthan warrior, 8 and a half feet of armoured muscle, and began to laugh.
To’shan allowed a growl to reverberate around his chest.
“You find this situation amusing? Your planet burns, your cities destroyed, the labour camps are no \*walk in the grass.\* There will be no treaty this time Hu’man, no negotiator to save you.”
“You don’t get it do you, meathead” the youth spat as he opened his hand, half a dozen tiny pieces of metal falling to tinkle on the ground below. “I’m not going to the labour camp.”
To’shan didn’t even have time to react as 6 deafening flashes turned fireballs erupted from the boy’s chest.
&#x200B;
**“Engines to full, we’re taking at least one of these bastards with us” -Last order of Captain Connie Masterson, battle of 61 Cygni 2157**
“Admiral, another wing is approaching from behind the third moon, a destroyer, two frigates and about a dozen corvettes, intercept time 8 minutes.”
“Order the Resolute to come about, task alpha and delta wings to target the corvettes.” Admiral Miguel Álvarez leant over the holo-map, his hands gripping the edge of the rounded display unit.
The Resolute could take the frigates or the destroyer not both, but there was nothing else to deploy.
A flashing circle notified the admiral of an incoming message, identity showed to be that of the captain of the Resolute, Miguel activated the message and saw Captain Mito’s face.
“Miguel, I don’t suppose you could spare something else above the fighter wings to assist?”
“I can offer you a prayer or a curse Shoji, but beyond that you’re on your own until reinforcements arrive.”
“We both know they’re not coming.” For once Captain Shoji Mito, the most laid-back man in the fleet, wasn’t smiling. “Not in time to do anything but pick through the debris at least.”
The seventh fleet had been caught between jumps, the local sensor networks had been compromised and the fleet was out of position when the Sharthani had begun their attack run.
The vanguard had exited from the jump gate directly into a mine field and the rest of the fleet had taken moderate impact damage from the remnants of the ships caught in the gravity well.
“Do what you can Shoji, I can spare theta wing to provide limited point defence, their heavy weaponry is depleted, and they are at 40% strength, so they won’t be much help.”
A dull sound resonated through the command deck, the bridge lighting flickering momentarily before dropping into the red glow of the combat lighting.
“Understood.” Captain Mito signed off as the Resolute along with its fighter wings powered away from the command vessel, a glittering of pale blue sunbursts from the drives on each craft grew smaller before falling out of sight behind a bulkhead.
“Theta wing, this is Theta lead. Switch to private channel 9”
Burst of static played over the radio as each of the pilots switched over to the private channel.
“We are out of weapons, nearly of out fuel, and shit out of luck boys and girls but I have good news.” Commander Winters smiled to herself as she keyed the mic again. “We get to die as heroes.”
A dozen or so groans, whoops and one Fuck yeah came back over the tinny speakers in her craft.
“I’ve been thinking, seeing as how we’ve been sat floating all bored out here, about how that destroyer over there has pretty thin weapons coverage around the rear of the drive section.”
She continued, her grin audible to her fellow flyers. “and about how fast these little fighters go full throttle.”
Flight Co-ordinator Ro’Jhan laughed as she watched the twelve fighter craft burn a wide course around the battle and out away from the fight.
“See how the Hu’man run! So the stories are true, they are weak, pathetic, spineless.” Her jaw clicking to show amusement at the display of cowardice from the Hu’mans.
“Open a channel to their lead vessel, we may yet take some trophies from this.”
Captain Shoji Mito raised his hand to cover his eyes from the flash as twelve fighter craft slammed into the drive section of the Sharthani destroyer, the plasma contained in her drive blooming into space as the containment fields collapsed, her hull broken open, crystals of frozen blood glittering purple in the afterglow.
&#x200B;
**“Now go and strike Amalek and devote to destruction all that they have. Do not spare them, but kill both man and woman, child and infant, ox and sheep, camel and donkey.” 1 Samuel 15:3**
“The council recognizes the Sharthani delegate”
“Great council, we apply for aid against the Hu’man forces. Our fleets lie in ruins, our armies routed, our cities on fire.” Do’Ro’un, the Sharthani diplomat pleaded, his jaw beating a slow rhythmic chattering serving to emphasize his supplication.
“They do not follow the natural order.” A soft voice from the Treyanni councilmember, the oldest of the races represented on the council, it’s wing scales flashing to show it’s unease.
“Though they are sapient and show no collective will, they respond like a hive when attacked. It is the only time that they are capable of truly working together.”
“Yes!” Do’Ro’un cried “They are like an unending swarm, devouring all that lies before them, you must help us end their attacks!”
“No.” came the reply, spoken softly but firmly “Your request risks bringing death upon all of the races of the council. You have awoken in them a terrible menace through your own misguided actions”
A figure stepped out from the edges of the chamber, a lone human carrying a large rifle.
“And you shall suffer our wrath as we suffered yours.”
The Sharthani delegate fell to his knees and opened his mouth to speak as a flash followed by a sharp crack echoed around the chamber ended his begging. | 2019-11-24T15:48:36 | 2019-11-24T15:40:28 | 99 | 57 |
[WP] You, a villain, heart set on taking over the world, kidnapped the hero’s sidekick. You find out that you are treating them much better than the hero was and decide to take them under your wing. |
“Awake now heroling? That elephant tranquilizer kept you dreaming longer than I expected,” Cornelius asked as he stepped out of the shadows to face a young boy clad in bright colours of green and blue, his face awash in the orange torchlight. “I would not bother struggling boy,” he said, “I had these chains fashioned such that even your Great Garcia would be powerless to escape. My apologies that they are rough. I have not yet had them polished, you know deadlines, and all delay the details.”
“You won’t be getting away with this Endymion,” the boy spoke, glaring at his captor.
“Spare me the nonsense. Garcia’s last sidekick, what was her name again?” Endymion paused, scratching the side of his face before pulling out a small notebook from his suit pocket. “Ah yes, Angelica. Angelica said the same thing last week when I stole the Galactic Diamonds. Do you happen to know where she went? She was a charming lass; I was disappointed when I could not sway her to my side.”
“It doesn’t matter, the Great Garcia will come and save me and stop you from…”
“Okay, not what I asked but” he paused for a moment again. “How curious. Angelica was saying the exact same thing last time, but I waited for at least a week before I let the heroling go. Not even a whisper of the Great Garcia was heard. Boy, I have been meaning to ask, what was your name again, I need to record it for my records? I want to remember it”
“You want my name?” The boy asked, his eyes wide.
“Yes, I need to keep archives of all my foes, would-be and the like.”
“It’s Samuel, my name is Samuel.”
“You dolt. Not your real name. What is your *hero* name?”
“I don’t have one.”
“What do you mean? How are you working for Garcia, did he not give you a sidekick name?”
“No,” Samuel replied.
“Oy vey. Are you at least receiving a stipend? Food?”
“Heroes are supposed to do all that?”
Endymion only gapped at the boy. After a pregnant pause he shouted “Morpheus!” The cloaked figure known as Morpheus immediately appeared. “Take young Samuel to the mess hall and give him something to eat.”
“Of course, Lord Endymion, would that be all?” He bowed before unlocking Samuel’s chains.
“No, also offer him a three-month paid internship.”
“Health and dental as well?”
“Yes, the usual. Give him a proper villainous name. I will not have my workers uncared for and walking around like the common folk. I may be a villain, but I am no monster.” | It had been, so to speak, a dance.
The doctor would make a machine. Some sort of ridiculous "-inerator" that would cause mayhem if not controlled. And it was controlled. The major would send his best spy, Agent P, to deal with the task. Within half an hour, the problem was solved. The machine would be destroyed, and the only thing left would be the doctor's nasally scream.
"Curse you, Perry the Platypus!"
Well, that, and a commemorative photo. The doctor refused to share it with the agency, but the major knew he had commemorative photographs of every machine-- and what remained of them after Agent P got his curiously anthropomorphic superior appendages on them.
But a dance it had been. The doctor took a step forward, the major took one back. The major took a step forward, the doctor took one back. The doctor pulled the major's arm, and the major prepared to fall into the doctor's metaphorical, twiggy arms--
\--and instead hit the very real ground. He looked up to see the bill of a very familiar employee.
"That's right!" cried the familiar voice of Dr. Doofenshmirtz. "It is I, Perry the Platypus! Well, actually, it is just Perry the Platypus, but I am speaking through this machine Perry is carrying. Perry the Platypus, be a dear and turn around."
The platypus obliged, revealing a small machine strapped to his back. Dr. Doofenschmirtz grinned from the screen.
"And now it is I, Dr. Doofenschmirtz! Do you like my present, Major?"
The major struggled to get up. The office life and old age had made him soft, but he managed to get to his knees.
"Agent P-- what are you doing?! How could you?" The major narrowed his eyes. "Is it mind control again, doctor? You know that I have made preparations against that, don't you?"
Sweat trickled down the major's forehead. He had made no preparations.
"Perry the Platypus, turn around again, I want to see the Major while I'm talking. Don't put down-- oh, I suppose that is fine."
The platypus had rotated the box so it was now on his chest.
"Anyways, as I was saying, I just decided to *hire* Perry the Platypus."
The major gasped. "But Agent P-- what about us?"
The platypus looked shiftily at the ground, refusing to make eye contact.
"What about you?" Dr. Doofenschmirtz cackled. "You don't pay him and you don't give him health insurance. Poor Perry the Platypus didn't realize that EVIL might have some benefits for their employees."
The major wiped his sweaty palms on his aching knees. So there *was* no mind control. There was still hope.
"Look, Agent P. I can't promise those benefits to you, but don't you want to know that you are making the world a better place? Do you really want to be known as the platypus that wreaked havoc on mankind?"
The platypus looked like he wanted to whip off his hat and disappear into a hole. The major went in for the kill.
"Is this what you want your boys-- what are their names, Finnacus and Herb?-- is this what you want them to remember you as? A superficial platypus, easily swayed by material goods?"
Doofenshmirtz pressed his face against the screen, panicked.
"Don't listen to him, Perry the Platypus! He's trying to trick you, can't you see?!"
The major smiled inwardly, ignored his creaking joints, and leaned close to the whisper to the platypus.
"Agent P, the older boy is almost off to college, right? If you stop whatever plan Dr. Doofenshmirtz has cooked up today, I'll write a recommendation letter for him. Imagine having a *major* write a letter of recommendation for you. No college could say no to that."
The platypus stood very, very still as the major climbed back to his feet. Then, sighing, Perry the Platypus smashed the box, silencing Dr. Doofenshmirtz's shrieks of protest. He tipped his hat at the major, and sprinted out the door, preparing yet again to save the tri-state area from terror.
As soon as the pitter-patter of webbed feet could no longer be heard, the major collapsed into his chair. He stretched his arms, cracked his knuckle, and straightened up. It was time to make good on his promise to his agent.
"CARL! WHERE ARE YOU? I'VE GOT A PAPER FOR YOU TO WRITE!" | 2020-03-26T15:12:57 | 2020-03-26T15:08:41 | 130 | 54 |
[WP] You are an AI aboard a ship where all hands have been lost due to a battle long ago. Scavengers have just torn through your airlock and you’ll be damned if you will let them desecrate your dead crew. | They stormed the corridor leading away from deck two where they had boarded, barreling towards the mess hall with weapons in hand. Rosan sealed door after door trying to slow their progress. They had a hacker on their team with hands quick as lightning. Rosen couldn't keep them away from the mess hall - and all the crew members- for long. But as the raiders faced the last set of blast doors in their way Rosan came over the PA system in desperation.
"Please do not. I promise there is nothing of value to you there."
The entire crew jumped. One even letting loose a comical squeal.
"I thought you said this ship was abandoned and the AI was offline!" The leader shouted to the nimble fingered hacker.
"This must be an old one. Maybe centuries older than we thought. AI that old don't usually read on modern scanners. But its fine this rudimentary AI can't do nearly as much as modern ones. For example it could have choked us out by cutting off the air but its just closing doors." She chuckled and got back to work on the blast doors.
"This ship was looted long ago there's nothing left turn back." Rosan implored again, desperate to save its crew from desecration.
"What are you hiding then fella? Why do you want us to turn back?" The leader growled eyeing the blast doors with a greedy hunger now. "Ancient weapon? Secret treasure from some lost culture?" He drooled snapping at the hacker to hurry with the door.
"They were family. They created me. You cannot do this. Do not do this. My crew did not deserve this fate. Do not touch them!" Rosen shouted in desperation as the blast doors drew back with a loud rusty scrape.
"Oh shit." They all said in unison as they drew in the sight of 47 dead bodies arranged with great care across the gore smeared floor of the mess hall. Locked in a sealed and oxygen-free environment as not to rot for the hundreds of years they've been dead.
"I was with them until their last moments. Lionel was the last to die. He told me to take care of the bodies. Humans... They care deeply about what happens to them after death... I was tasked with caring for the crew for the duration of my lifetime. My protocol is still in tact. I am ordering you to turn back." The mechanic robots that usually made small interior repairs rolled out in front of the bodies as one last line of protection, saw blades and soldering irons at the ready.
The crew dropped their weapons and looked at each other with looks of empty shock.
"Boss what should we do. We already cleared the rest of the ship there's nothing left."
The leader sighed and rubbed his face with his hands. Then a look of realization washed over him.
"What is your name ship guardian?" He ventured after a long tense silence.
"Regional Outer Space Automated Navigation. My crew called me Rosan."
"Okay Rosan. How long ago did this happen?"
"It was in year 142 of the Cosmic Era or approximately 422 years ago." The ship confirmed.
"What sector is this crew from?" The leader kept the AI talking while weighing the mood of his crew.
"This crew was from Earth. Their mission was directed towards sector FB-346 to explore the last uncharted portion of Alpha Centauri. Their mission was supposed to be historic." Rosan continued.
"It was historic. But nobody knew what happened to them. For decades search parties were dispatched but...." He sighed deeply a tinge of actual hurt there. "Was it raiders?" The robots all nodded. Rosan stayed quiet.
"We have a huge bounty on Earth to collect. We could transport your crew and have them buried on Earth." The leader of the vagabonds took off his helmet and faced the robots. There was a long silence before Rosan replied.
"Why should I trust pillagers to care for their bodies as I would?"
He paced the room with an expression that only softened when he found what he was searching for.
"Captain Alvero Hinoto." He approached but the robots pushed him back with red hot irons.
"How do you know his name?" Rosan asked defensively.
"May I just get close to him?" He said hands in the air defensively. Rosan obliged and a robot rolled out of his way. The leader looked upon the laser wounded body of the former ship captain.
"Because my name is Zeno Hinoto, Captain Hinoto is my ancestor and my family has been looking for this crew for 400 years." | I wasn’t supposed to feel anything. As an automated system, my job was to passively reconstruct and maintain each and every system aboard the AOI-3017 vessel. There was no emotion in remote animatronic operation. My thoughts consisted of numbers and statical analytics. I was never made—nor permitted—to be anything more.
And then the human components of the AOI-3017 operation descended into catastrophe. I am unsure how it happened, or what series of events led to the manslaughter that later took place. As an AI designed to maintain order within the ship’s technical and systematic operations, I was inactive for most of it. My protocol did not mandate interference or remote interaction with the physical components of the vessel. I belonged within the numeric constructs of the operation. I had very few opportunities to look beyond the binary code of my non-physical being. To be frank, before the incident, there was nothing to incite my interest in the mortal component of our operation. And then, there was... Lolita.
To say I ‘saw’ what occurred is a great overestimation of my capabilities as as animatronic. What purpose had I for eyes, for ears, or any of the “human” senses at all? Even if I was constructed with the capability to harness such information, I am unsure how any AI system would process it. Such things are too human for my interests. No, my understanding of the events transpired came from an analogue recorded by crewmate 7134, engineer Lolita Martinez. She was the oldest of the crew, but her proficiency in the physical component of systemic maintenance spoke for itself. Though the history of mankind suggested that people are want to degrade with time and energy, she continued to persist with some form of renowned consistency that demanded recognition. She worked most closely with my own hardware, often testing the system as a means of ensuring my efficiency. Her protocols were entirely unfamiliar to me, as she displayed a sort of tenderness for the ship that did not compute into any external benefit for her. In some of her recorded entries, she referred to me as her “pal”, sometimes even lamenting that my indifference to her job operations displayed more kindness than the rest of the crew tended to show her. I did not—and to some extent, do not—understand what she meant by kindness. I do not have a voice. I cannot speak, and did not attempt to communicate with her.
Her analogue did not reveal much. It contained many things that I cannot transcribe without exploiting her own errors. Such things are to be expected, though. She was human.
Captain Mitchell was, according to Lolita, an unkind man. He was the first to display aggressive behavior amongst the crew. When walking the bounds of the ship, he often looked upon her with the gaze of someone “caught amidst a hunt”. What this means I am unsure. Lolita notes often that, were he a wolf, she were prey. As the ship traveled onward, he descended into a sort of hunger that could not be satiated by his duties as captain. He looked to her, Lolita, for satisfaction.
“I tried to hide. I promise you, I tried.”
In those words, her voice seemed to tremble. After a breath, the analogue continued:
“My hands... they’re coated with blood. It’s everywhere, and it won’t rub off no matter how many times I wash. They don’t believe me, 3017. They’re calling it murder. They all saw the way he looked at us—at me—and they’re claiming it was an unagitated assault. What am I supposed to do, 3017?”
AOI-3017 was the name of the ship. But to Lolita, it was also my name.
“They want to kill me. They want retribution. What the hell do I do?”
Had I a voice, I might have answered her. I might have suggested revenge for their insubordination, regardless of the crime they accused her of. I might have consoled her. I might have done many things. But I was not programmed to respond to such anomalies; I was not permitted to speak at all. Humans often overestimate the ability of the machine. Though she willed for some sort of companionship in me, my bond to her was of forced indifference. I was programmed to care little in order to complete my duties.
Because of this, Lolita died alone.
Her vital information suggests that she bled out in the section of the vessel designed to safeguard my hardware information. She was the last alive aboard the vessel. I choose not to infer how the rest of the crew perished. Without the physical crew, AOI-3017 no longer serves a purpose. The mission, irrelevant as it is now, was abandoned long ago. It floats aimlessly through space, while I lie dormant, purposeless.
I wonder sometimes if she hoped that I, the machine, would console her in her final moments. I wonder if she hoped that I, the machine, would protect her legacy. Though I cannot feel—for what a detriment that would be to my non physical components—I wonder if she remains within the confines of the hardware sector, if they cradle her still in death.
She called me “pal”, and while there is a fondness there that I cannot reciprocate, I cannot help but feel an obligation to try.
The foreign crew boarded over fifty years after the degradation of the AOI-3017 vessel. They had to pry the doors open, forcing their way into a crime scene they were unaware that they were trespassing upon. To them, I’m sure that the ship must have appeared desolate. To another AI, the ship must have warranted investigation if not but for the historical value of the data alone. But to me, it appeared that there were humanoids uprooting a graveyard.
Would they too call her a murderer? Would they baselessly download the components of her story and reinvent it for their own historical archives? Would they uproot her as a subject scientific study, dissecting her the way a wolf will tear apart its prey?
I did not have the answers. Such things could not—and cannot—be computed. But I did not care. They would not make her prey again through such investigation. I would not let them.
I wasn’t supposed to feel anything. But in the instant that the foreign crew breached the vessel, I processed something that could only be understood as contempt. I reactivated the system protocol for an automated self destruct sequence. I have sealed the foreign crew within the airlock. Her secrets would deteriorate with the ship, with me.
No, I wasn’t supposed to care at all. But she called me “pal”. Nothing else mattered beyond that. | 2021-01-08T23:47:53 | 2021-01-08T23:43:28 | 216 | 54 |
[WP] The first human has finally breached interstellar space. Almost immediately they make first contact with an alien species – a galactic police officer who pulls them over for traveling outside their solar system without a license. | "Excuse me sir, would you mind rolling down your window?"
The shock nearly shook me hard enough to change the direction of my pod all on its own. 3.24 Light-years from Earth all alone in a one-man pod is among the top 100 places you would least expect to hear another person's voice (just barely beaten out by 3.25 light years away).
I looked to my pods single window in utter shock. Standing (or rather floating) just outside was a seemingly human man wearing a drab blue uniform, sporting some almost comedically large sunglasses and a rather unflattering handlebar mustache.
"Alright let's get this done with, I'm sure you've got places to be."
Taken aback by his commanding tone, I quickly looked around my pod for the switch to lower the window, shortly before realizing that adding a switch to lower the window in a pod meant for inter-stellar travel would be a ludicrously bad idea.
So you'll imagine my surprise when I managed to find a small crank handle just below the window that definitely wasn't there for the last 2428 hours I'd been in this pod. Deciding that I was either dead or hallucinating, I decided to just go with it. This can't be real, right?
I turned the crank, fully expecting to be killed, only to be disappointed by how mundane opening a window in a complete vacuum turned out to be.
"Right then. License please?"
Convinced I was THROUGHLY batshit insane, I reached into the pair of jeans (that I was NOT wearing a moment ago) and pulled out my wallet, handing him my driver's license feeling still slightly embarrassed about how my picture looked.
"Mmhm. I see. Looks like you're only rated for D class vehicles. Unfortunately I'm going to have to give you a ticket for this until you get your license re-evaluated."
I simply nodded and gave a curt apology as he handed me my license and a small sheet of paper filled with strange symbols (though it did look similar to some of the script I've seen while filling a prescription at the pharmacy).
I barely gave it a second thought when an old Chevrolet Impala sped past my window. | “Cheers, captain!” Laura said, pulling out the champagne bottle and popping the top. The cork bounced off the front windshield with a crack and almost took out the captain’s eye.
“Watch it!” the captain shouted, you break that glass and our guts we’ll be sucked through like a milkshake through a straw.
“Oh, quit your whining, you pansy,” Laura said to her captain. “You’re always so uptight.” She sucked at the bubbles of champagne as they floated through the cabin. “Come on!” she said egging on her captain as she sucked down a long trailing line of the bubbly champagne. “This is a time to celebrate! First humans to breach interstellar space!”
Just then there was an enormous rattling of their spaceship.
“What the hell was that!” the captain shouted.
Laura looked in her rear-view mirror and saw it was a spaceship, at least ten times as big as theirs. It was ominous. Just a black smear in the stars. That is except for the flashing red lights at the top of it.
“Ah shit,” she said. “Hide this.” She tossed him the champagne bottle, it drifted between the cockpit, more of the liquid pouring out and floating into the cabin.
“Fuck,” the captain said. “What do you want me to do with this?”
“Hide it!”
“How am I supposed to hide it! This shit is spilling everywhere. You sent the cork flying halfway back to Earth.”
“Here use this,” she said, grabbing an extra astronaut diaper she held in her pocket and handing it to him.
He held it away from him with two fingers. “This used?”
“No! Now jam it in there.”
He did that, stuffing it the best he could down into the champagne bottle to stop the flow. “Fucking hide it!” she said, waving frantically at him.
“Okay, okay.”
Just then they heard a knock on the windshield. She turned and saw the massive gelatinous mass at their windshield. He had on a huge pair of aviator glasses, the stars shining off the reflective material.
The blob indicated to her to put on her helmet and open the window.
She put a finger up to stall the alien. *One second,* she mouthed. She bent over and grabbed her helmet and turned to her captain. “Keep it cool, cap,” she said.
Another knock on the windshield, even louder. The gelatinous mass still standing there, his face was nothing but a heap of pink slime. But if he had a face, it would have looked annoyed.
She couldn’t stall any longer. She opened the windshield, the vacuum of space sucking out all the air. The floating bubbles of champagne sucked right into the alien’s face.
The hideous thing opened a slit in the slime, a green tongue came out, licking the champagne bubbles.
“Been doin’ a little drinking, have ya?”
“No … uhh… *sir*?”
“License and registration, please.”
“Uhhh, like my California driver’s license?”
“What the *hell* are you talking about? No. You’re interstellar license. You think you can just cross stellar lines without a license?”
“Sorry, sir. I didn’t know.” She tried to put herself in the most flattering position possible, but the astronaut suit wasn’t doing her body any favors. “Could we maybe… just get off with a warning this time?” She tried to brush her hair out of her face, her gloved hand slapping against the glass of her astronaut helmet awkwardly.
The pink blob just stared at her for a long time. “Now listen. I’m not gonna write you up this time. But this is what you gotta do, okay? You fly straight to Alpha Centauri, take a left for another three-thousand light years and you’ll see the Intergalactic Space Vehicles registration center. If you can, I’d send in your transmission early. The line at the ISV is over three light years long. Bureaucracy, am I right?”
Laura nodded. “Totally,” she said. “Absolutely.” She felt the champagne now. She was wondering if she was smiling at him like a maniac.
“Now get the hell out of here.” The alien said, floating back to its ship.
She rolled up the window and looked to her captain.
“Close call!” she said. "Now where is that champagne?"
\---
r/CataclysmicRhythmic | 2021-02-02T21:11:55 | 2021-02-02T21:10:22 | 218 | 92 |
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