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 wake up in an empty hospital with an envelope taped to your chest, you read the letter inside. "If you're reading this, that means you have awoken. Inside the envelope is a syringe with a small dose of a chemical that will kill you in seconds without pain, use it. DO NOT GO OUTSIDE." | Awakening with a jolt Mark sat up and fought back a wave of nausea until his vision cleared. It was cold, that can't be right atmospherics should still be operating, he can't have been out that long right?
Touching the back of his head and staring at the blood on his fingers asked aloud "What happened?" Before flicking the comm switch "Hey Bill, Wendy why is it so cold in here?" Nothing but silence greeted his query and he just shook his head "I can breathe so maybe it was a short circuit" talking to himself felt better than silence.
After trying to cycle the airlock to the rest of the hospital and getting an error message a few times panic began to creep into his mind "where are the nurses? Hey anyone out there, my door is jammed and I" a crinkle as Mark pressed himself against the door. Fingers fumbled to remove the envelope they found taped to his chest, a plain envelope with his name in smudged scribble next to a lipstick mark.
He openned the envelope and nearly dropped the tearstreaked page of scribble and read it aloud "If you are reading this, that means you have awoken. Inside the envelope is syribge with a small....dose of a chemical that what the fuck?! Kill me without pain! Do not go outside. You fucks! You fucking fucks let me out of this fucking room" his voice hoarse and full of emotion as tears began rolling down his cheeks.
Hours later snot and tears dried on his face Mark sat on his guerney staring at the syringe and turned to look at the airlock and there standing on the other side stood a smiling figure in a doctors scrubs but something was wrong with his smile, full of too many teeth and wider than natural.
The air hissed as the airlock began to cycle | In one hand John held what would most certainly be his death, and in the other, he held a message. A message that told him not to go outside. What was outside? He didn't know. Last thing he remembered was taking his dog, Marshy, for a walk. It was a silent, cold February morning, just like any other. He very vaguely remembered being knocked down and a man in a beige overcoat hitting him with a stick, or a bat, something. He couldn't remember. The message in his hand read "DON'T GO OUTSIDE" in capitals.
John shook his head. He needed to focus on what was going on right now. He got up and slowly walked to the mirror. He looked into the mirror and saw a bandage on his temple. He had felt it when he woke up but the letter taped to his chest was more interesting. And the pain from ripping it off, no doubt with ample chest hair, had distracted him. He moved away from the mirror and looked around the room. The windows were covered from the outside so he couldn't even know what was outside. He still had the syringe in his hand. It had a small tag with the good ol' skull and poison on it. He tried the door to his room and after much struggle it finally opened. He was in a hospital, of all places. Nobody was around, that troubled him. He was scared, so scared he was sweating. He tiptoed around the hospital, still confused as hell. He explored the hospital, finding many envelopes and charts that told him to stay and not go outside, until he came across the door that led outside. He pulled up a chair and sat there for about an hour trying to decide what to do.
Finally, he decided that he was going to die either way. So might as well see what was outside. How bad could it be, right? He got up from his chair, and slowly opened the door. All he could see was a bright white light. When he finally stepped outside, an immeasurable force suddenly pushed him to his knees. He looked up and saw a large white room. He struggled to his feet and walked around, confused.
"You shouldn't have left." said a voice, seeming to come from all around him. Was he supposed to reply? What should he say? He didn't know. Then he heard footsteps. He looked behind him to find a man, in a red shirt and grey pants. He looked like a suburban dad. He smiled, almost grined, at him. "I didn't want you to leave. Please go back. You were there for a reason. And that reason was to die."
John stepped back, sensing the hostility in the man's voice. This man didn't seem all that dangerous. With streaks of grey hairs in his hair and mustache. "I don't want to die." John replied. "Well, that's not up to you, now, dear child." the man cheerfully said. At this point, John had had enough. In his right hand, he still held the syringe. He was scared and he did what anyone in that position would do. He lunged and stabbed the man with it, injecting him with chemical. He couldn't even say a thing. No shouts or battlecries. Had he killed this man? He didn't know it was in him. To kill another man.
The old man reeled back. "What the fuck did you think doing that would do?" he yelled, laughing maniacally. "Child, you can't kill death itself." Another wave of force pushed John down to the ground. When he looked up, the man was gone and in his place stood a cloaked figure with a scythe. "I didn't want to kill you myself, John. Most people are so much better off when they think they had a choice." The scythe swiftly fell on John's neck. Next thing he knew, he was sitting a room filled with people and an old, bearded man sat in the middle telling stories. The sign behind him said "Story time with G".
Edit: Spellings | 2015-02-15T14:44:17 | 2015-02-15T11:31:57 | 43 | 24 |
[WP] Age is no longer how long we've lived, it's how many years are left until we die. | At 60 and 61, Sarah and I were thrilled when after only a couple of months trying, we fell pregnant. So much time to spend with our children (we hoped this would be the first of many), so much time to plan and live!
We were shattered when the stoic midwife handed our firstborn angel over, and said "Congratulations, she's a healthy five month old."
We loved every moment of those five months, but when they drew to a close, we were already pregnant again. Nobody could ever replace little Aria, but we still had 60 years together, we still wanted that big family.
Sarah seemed to shrink each time we tried. She birthed a two month old, a four day old, and finally we had six amazing years with Joshua. After Joshua passed away, from leukaemia we couldn't fight no matter what we threw at it, Sarah was a fraction of herself.
I thought it would all be fine. We'd adopt, we'd foster, anything to fill those 45 years more together. Then we sat across from a doctor. He went through pages of results, explained every test and response until his conclusion was obvious before his words even came.
"Sarah, whether it grief, or physical burden taking its toll. You are only a month old." | Yesterday, I had turned 0. Zero years to live.
My wife was sitting next to me on my bed. Her hand was perfectly manicured, smooth as silk and so full of youth. She ran her fingers through my hair. A touch so genlte like I was a frail thing she was afraid to break.
"Do you remeber how we went to Voyagers national park? Up high in Minnesota?" It was our first *real* adventure. Driving six weeks through the north of the US. It was marvellous, a trip incomparable to anything I experienced afterwards.
"Of course, darling. You insisted on kayaking..." my voice trailed off "... and it was a nice and calm day." I finished lamely.
"And yet the weather was changing and the wind picked up." Her eyes bright as stars.
"We had the wind blowing in our faces and the return over the open lake was heinous."
"You wrist was strained for the days to come", I replied "and we were both exhausted."
I remembered all the things from that trip. The cities we had been to. The people we visited and befriended. The sun, the rain, even snowfall in late september. Whole landscapes under a white blanket that muffeled every sound.
Daniel came to visit, my wife greeted him, fighting back the tears.
"Hey buddy, rough time, huh?" He was a fine man, intelligent, well spoken, easy going when the time was right. We studied chemistry together and both we were pursuing our PhD. He told me he'd been at a symposium this very morning, presenting his new findings.
"Of course, but do you really think it's appropriate right now?" He asked.
"I will have nothing of this nonsense! Did you really do this tandem reaction? And the yield was really 85%?"
He proceeded to walk me through the talk he gave. I coughed hard and short, my hand went to my chest.
"It's nothing!" I snapped when i caught his sorrowful face. After a while we both went out of things to talk about. "It was good seeing you again." His low voice was filled with love and empathy. "You should go now." "Yeah, i probably should. Call me if you need anything, right?" My wife nodded as the latter was addressed to her.
I had very few other visitors, only my closest friends came to say good bye. I bid them all farewell and was left alone with my wife. I felt I had almost no time left. Up until now the talk was nothing *real*. Nothing of *significance*. Just exchanged memories and let out minds wander about. We sat in silence, her face turned darker.
"You shouldn't have done this." Her voice broke and hearing that broke my heart.
"Darling, of course i had to! You would have done the same for me." I smiled, "It was me or you." My crushed lower corpse was hid below blanket, the medical monitors beeping idly in the background. I felt old...so old and now my time had come. "Can you fetch me a water please?" "Sure." She wiped away a tear and went outside.
*Clonk*
*Splash*
A high pitched scream.
*The doctors rushed to his bed but there was nothing more they could do. The injuries were too severe.. He passed away in silence.*
****
The next day she walked down the road, her age-check read 64 years. | 2015-08-15T05:54:06 | 2015-08-15T05:50:27 | 19 | 13 |
[WP] At age 15, you made a deal with the Devil to save your life. Every week, you must choose a person you've seen and that person will die....you are now 24 years old. | Twenty-four years old today, I thought as I bowed my head in prayer. The other members of the Church Leadership team joined me. After a minute, we began to discuss the needs of the Church and who would visit which of the shut ins. My sister was a registered nurse working in hospice care and she usually provided a list of her patients who would welcome a visit from someone. The truth was a lot of her patients were scared and lonely.
Bill, a real estate agent, and probably our most vocal deacon spoke up. “Ellen Southland has requested a visit.”
“Isn’t she in the Atlantis Nursing Home?” I asked.
“Yes, we’ve got several elderly members in that home.”
“I’ll take Ellen and also I’ll take care of my sister’s lists of patients.” People thought I was a good person. I’d been hired as their full-time youth minister the year I graduated from Abilene Christian University. They admired how I would visit the elderly and shut ins. Sometimes they would find me in the back room where we had set up that big wooden cross for prayer circles crying. They didn’t know.
I was the angel of death. Tomorrow I would visit some poor soul dying of cancer or just simple old age and I would steal from them their last few days when I picked them to die early. I tried to pick people who were ready to go, men or women in pain. But what gave me the right? The devil gave me the power, but I chose to exercise that power. Each death surely sent me deeper into the dark hellish grave I had dug for myself when I chose to stay on in this life.
As the list of visits was lined up, we turned to the homeless program we had developed. “I’ve visited several business groups this week,” I mentioned. “I’ve got commitments that will fund another thousand meals. It’s not where we want to be, but we’re getting closer. Oh and I’m recommending that we waive the NA group's fees for space rental for another six months. Their group is really taking off and I’d like to see us maybe even chip in a bit so they can get the word out.
I had something of a reputation for being a bleeding heart, but I also was pretty successful in raising funding for the various programs I championed, so eventually they acquiesced to my ideas. It was commonly thought that I was on track to take over as the main pastor for this now 2,000 strong church in a few years.
A few years? God, my heart aches to think of it. Can I keep to my evil ways? Acting like I have the right to exercise life or death over your flock? A half hour later, I walked out to my car and sat there trying not to cry.
It was then my sister called. “Ninety-eight years old, in a lot of pain, desperate for someone to hold her hand.” My hands trembled as I held the cell phone. “I’ll be there sis.” I had trapped myself in a hell of my own making.
| I live in a town of 3000 people. Well, there were 3000 people 9 years ago but now there are 5 left. You may be thinking that maybe some thing crazy happened in the city, like a corruption at city hall, or maybe this was one of those old Italian cities that just ended but the truth is...I killed every one.
I know it may sound crazy but the truth is I made a deal with the devil when I was 15. I had cancer and was about to die. The devil came to my room and said he would give me my life back if I could name 1 person I saw every week to be killed. To tell the truth the deal didn't sound great but I had no choice.
So I came up with 1 name every week. I tried to switch it up. 1 week it would be an old man, then the next week, an old woman and then maybe a kid to switch it up a bit. The way I see it is that all of these people get to die peacefuly so its not that bad. Its better then them being shot down in the streets.
Of course the town became famous when 1 person died every week. Scientists came down to the city. They couldn't find a thing but they were printing all of this in the news. So I killed 2 scientists. You probably would never see a bunch of scientists leave a town as fast as they did.
I guess you're wondering why the people in the town never left. Well, the truth is that when someone tried to leave the town, I would make them die next. The way I see it is that they were happy to leave the other people in the town so they deserve to die. Well, I pretty much stopped that right in the tracks.
Now 5 people are left. We all agreed to have a town meeting because we want to find out whose killing every one. Well, they want to find out and I'm pretending. Well, I'm not just pretending...I'm choosing my next 1 too.
So we're all at city hall. There's me, an old man (Jerry), a kid (Tom), the police chief (Bill) and an old lady (Tina). The meeting started very awkwardly. I think no one knew what to say and I was cringing at how awkward it was.
Then Jerry punctured the silence. "Well, we know some one here is the killer. Its time to find out who it is" he said.
Dam, right to the chase. I could feel sweat running down my face like a river. I wasn't expecting it to be so to the point.
"How do we know you are not the killer" said Tina, the old lady. She was pointing her finger right at Jerry, like she knew he was the killer.
"God dammit" said Jerry. "This is not a meeting to point fingers at each other to find out who the killer is. This is a meeting to get to the truth."
Then the kid started talking. "I think the killer is him". He was pointing at me. I was trembling with rage. Who ever was found to be the killer would be killed by every one else! So I would have to kill the kid.
Right then...before I could even defend my honor...the police chief sat up. He pulled out his gun and aimed it at all of us. "Ok that's it!" he said. "I don't have time to find out who the killer is. I will just kill all of you."
Well, you can imagine that all of us were sweating like crazy at this point. The kid was even crying.
"Now" said the police chief. "If some one wants to admit they are the killer, I will just kill them."
This was my chance. I turned to the kid and said "Just admit it, ok? He is going to kill all of us. You can save all of our lives." The kid couldn't take any more. With tears streaking down his entire face he said "Fine...I'm the killer!"
In my mind, I had won. The kid was clearly corrupt and willing to have me killed on just what he thought. Well, he would learn the lesson to last a life time.
But then suddenly the police chief turned his gun on me. "That's the only confirmation we need, buddy." he said. "Only the killer would try to have the kid killed."
I opened my mouth to defend myself but the police chief shot me right in the head. I fell to the floor. I could feel my life going a way.
I looked at the people as I was dying. The old man, Tina, the police chief, and the kid. They all looked really happy. They looked like monsters but they were only killing 1 person...me. I killed almost every one I knew.
Some times in life we do things that we don't really think about. You might choose to do some thing bad but you will think that you have the right. Well, I'm here to tell you that you don't. If you do the same thing I did, you might end up just like me!
* thanks this is my 3rd story for prompts. Please leave what you think. I will be writing 1 story for prompts every week. | 2016-07-11T19:21:48 | 2016-07-11T18:20:35 | 17 | 12 |
[WP] Human immortality having been achieved, Death himself shows up at the Unemployment Office. | "Name please"
"GRIM"
"Tim?"
"NO, GRIM."
"Grim? As in 'The weather looks a little bit grim today'?"
"YES"
"Surname?"
"REAPER"
"Grim Reaper?"
"YES"
"You must have interesting parents. How long have you been out of work?"
"ABOUT 2 WEEKS"
"Brilliant. Here's form 28A, 29A and 29B-G, We'll need your National Insurance Number, 6 forms of ID and 12 personal references from long time associates, personal or business"
"UMM, I DONT REALLY HAVE ANY BUSINESS ASSOCIATES. MY LINE OF WORK WAS A KIND OF ONE OFF DEAL WITH EACH... CUSTOMER."
"Well that will slow down the process a little bit. What was your reason for becoming unemployed?"
"I WAS MADE REDUNDANT."
"Let me guess, it was the Eternal Life treatment?"
"CORRECT."
"Mortician? Funeral Director? Coffin Maker?"
"SOMETHING LIKE THAT, I SUPPOSE."
"Get those forms filled in and I'll see what I can do for your Mr Reaper."
"THANK YOU, SUSAN."
******
"All done? Let's have a quick look... Ah, that's interesting. Under the Years in previous employment question, you've put "All time"... I don't think you understand the question. so was it 10 years? 20?"
"UMM...LETS SAY 30 THEN."
"Great. So what kind of work will you be looking for?"
"I WAS THINKING, MAYBE SOMETHING TO DO WITH ANIMALS, OR KIDS. MY PREVIOUS WORK MADE IT TOUGH TO WORK WITH THEM. I'D LIKE TO MAKE UP FOR THAT A LITTLE."
"We have a position available at a local day care but without references, it may be a little difficult. How about PetStore? They've got a new shelf stacking job going currently."
"SOUNDS GOOD TO ME."
"It's minimum wage and 37 hours a week but you'll be working in the warehouse mainly, I'm sure they'll let you handle to animals"
"I DONT WANT TO HANDLE THEM... THAT, UMM, NEVER TURNS OUT WELL. I JUST WANT TO HELP THOSE THAT DO."
"Brilliant, I'll get an application posted to you as soon as possible. Best of luck Mr Reaper. A pleasure to meet you.......Eeeek"
*Thud*
"DAMMIT, NOT AGAIN. I REALLY SHOULD WEAR GLOVES" | Knock knock knock.
That's the sound the poor sap behind the desk heard. Age 82, sadly single, one kid, three obnoxious grandkids and currently 4 in the morning, one might wonder why such a man still works at the Unemployment Office. Slowly grabbing his spectacles from the desk, he thoroughly wiped it before getting up shakily to answer the door. Step by step he took, a minute or two had passed before reaching the brass doorknob. Turning the sphere clockwise, the door creaked open, revealing the face of Death himself.
Now here's the thing about Death. The embodiment of the afterlife was suppose to look like either your best friend or your greatest nightmare, depending on your sins. But for a man of this age, tired and weary, eyesight so bad that the spectacles on are probably just for show, he would most likely not even care.
"Uh... Hello." said Death, waving his arm. His voice was rough and echoed, but quiet like a mouse.
"What is that, boy? I can't hear you." said the old man, leaning forward with his hand behind the ear.
"I-I said, HELLO!" Death said louder this time, covering his mouth afterwards. The old man chuckled as he moved back, "Oh, hello there! We're not really opened now but you can have a seat." Death blinked, "Uh, thanks."
The two walked into the bare room, a clean desk in the middle and a sofa by the window, a coffee table in front. Portraits covered the walls with pictures from black and white, to brown and gold. There even ever augmented reality photos, the kind of technology those kids use these days. "Would you like some tea?" asked the old man.
"Uh... N-No thanks. I doubt I can actually eat anything." Death replied as he sat on the sofa. The old man smiled, "Oh, suit yourself. I recently got a new stock of camomile tea. Not those synthetic kinds too! Bleh! Disgusting those are..."
A few minutes of brewing tea later, the old man slowly carried his teapot onto his table, two cups along with it. He poured himself a cup but left the other empty. "Now then young man, what seems the problem?"
Death looked at the old man sip his drink shakily, before looking at his own empty cup. "I... I lost my job."
"I can see that. People don't usually come here when they have a job. There was one that did though. But, he came here for his cousin." He took another sip.
"M-My job was very important. Not just to the world, but to me too. I've had it for years and I've always done it best. But now..." Death looks out the window, "It doesn't look like as if it's needed anymore."
"Now now, don't be sad. Everyone's been there before. Having a job at the local burger shop and next thing you know it, a robot replaces you as the cashier, the fryer and the packaging manager. It's sad but that's just progress." Now Death tightened his fist. "B-but, I don't wanna go. I was proud of my job. I did it better than anyone else."
The old man smiled from behind the desk, "And I'm sure you did great at it. But it's time to move on. Live a new stage of your life."
Death felt confused. Life? The weird source of energy found in mortal beings? That pink goo that sticks on their chests and never let go? Death looked at his own chest but found nothing. "I... I don't get it."
"You'll get it. I'm sure of it." Another sip of tea. "No matter who you are or where you're from, we all walk one of the various paths of life. It's a thing in our nature. And our will and curiosity forever pushes us to reach the end, not knowing what may occur. Like a little flower blossoming, opening its eyes while never knowing what is beyond."
"That's... a weird analogy." The old man chuckled. "Yes... Yes it is." The two sat in silence while Death slowly grabbed his teacup. "D-do you think I have this 'life'? Do you think I can move forward like you?"
The old man raised an eyebrow, "... That depends. Do you want to?" Death stared at his teacup, his eyes scanning the ceramic surface. "I-I think so."
"Then you can."
"... Heh. Heheh." Death laughed weakly. "M-may I have some tea?" The old man nodded and so, Death poured some into his cup. With a sip, his ghastly face smiled at the sweet flavour and the two talked till the morning Sun rose. | 2016-07-26T01:40:01 | 2016-07-26T01:07:17 | 125 | 28 |
[WP] Teleportation is finally invented. Your friend is one of the first people to use it . After coming out on the other side, the more time you spend with him, the more you realize that this is not your friend | "This is Ray with the Tokyo team, we are ready to receive you." The Japanese team of scientist continued to run their last minute checks, they knew everything was in place but it is the human condition to worry. It had taken Ray 12 hours to fly here from California, a feat which was revolutionary only a short while ago. Now, his friend Donovan would make the same trip in less than a second.
Holding up a bag of IN-N-OUT burgers, his friend spoke with a broad smile. "Two burgers animal style with one hold the pickle. Honestly though, I think it is a travesty to ruin a great burger by taking out the pickles." Donovan, shaking his head with mock pity, moved off the large screen and directed the camera at the teleporter.
"You can try to convert me once you are here. Beginning the countdown." Ray tried to sound confident but he could not hide his nervousness. Donovan also seemed to be his relaxed self but Ray knew otherwise. Running tests on animals only gave so much assurance that it would actually work on a human.
The countdown finished, a bright flash happened simultaneously on the live feed from america along with the receiving end in Tokyo. Standing before them, burgers in hand, was his friend Donovan. The team of scientist erupted in cheering, once again, humanity had done the impossible.
Donovan embraced his friend and handed him the promised burger. Ray, barely able to chew due to his laughter, suddenly frowned as he tasted pickles. At first, he assumed this was one of Donovan's attempts to convert him but paused as he saw the man happily eating the pickle-free burger. "I find it hard to believe that after all these years you are suddenly agreeing with me." Ray spoke while eyeing his friend.
"Agree about what?" Donovan asked as he continued to eat.
"You've always refused to eat a burger without pickles..."
"Oh....Well, I suppose there is a first for everything. Besides we have more important issues to deal with." Donovan quickly changed the subject and began to answer the scientist's questions about his experience. He said there was no pain and despite feeling a little dizzy, he was otherwise fine.
"Well then, guess we can go ahead and cancel the flight back. No need to travel like neanderthals eh?" Ray joked has he butted his friend with his elbow.
"No!" Donovan screamed with terrified eyes. The entire room startled, turn to look at him. Realizing this, Donovan took a moment to regain his composure then spoke in his usual care-free manner. "I mean, we should wait to see if there are any long-term effects before I go in again. Safety first and all that, right?"
Ray nodded slowly. "I suppose you are right, Amanda will be disappointed when she hears you won't be home tonight."
Donovan gave him a blank stare, then glancing down at his ring replied in a smooth voice. "Oh well, I could always use a night away from the wife." He gave Ray a wink then turned away.
"Amanda is your daughter." Ray could not hide the worry in his voice as he approached him. "Don, did you really forget that your wife has been dead for years?"
Donovan paused and met Ray's eyes. He could see the fear, for a moment no one moved. Then, Donovan ran.
"Seal the facility now!" Ray screamed chasing after him.
Donovan did not get far before they grabbed him. The lab had a number of containment protocols for the specimen they experimented on. However, it was not until after month that Ray saw his friend again and this time, it was from the other side of a cell.
"To be honest, I do not even know where to begin." The head scientist spoke in a tired and frustrated tone. "His fingerprints are entirely different and he has no memory of the life he led before. These are certainly things to be worried about but they were within our parameters considering what we were putting him through. What really scares is....well, to be honest I am not even supposed to tell you"
"Please, I need to know." Ray spoke in a soft voice as he stared down at the man he called his friend.
The scientist sighed but continued to speak. "His blood is black and thick as tar. This was enough to terrify us but it was only the tip of the iceberg." The scientist motioned towards the room below. "His prison is actually vacuum. That thing, does not even need to breathe oxygen. In fact, we took out all the air in secret and he didn't even notice. There's more but this is all you need to know, what you are looking at is not human. I am sorry, but Donovan Rogers did not survive the experiment."
| He looked at me with the kind of somber eyes he’d always had. Calming but penetrating. A man quietly murmuring a compulsive mantra in the back of his mind. A constant reminder that things are okay; but they aren’t okay.
He had been in the decompression chamber a few days already. It’s not like he was being punished or anything, so I had no trouble getting access. Hell I could have probably slept there if I really wanted. He was connected all kinds of sensors, measuring vitals, neurological activity, metabolic rate. Really everything possible. Though I mean it’s not really surprising, he had just been teleported across the ocean.
It felt more like he was a diver that had just been brought from the depths of the Marina Trench. Having seen the very most depths of reality, not quite sure how to adequately process it all. Constantly swearing that he was fine. This was all just precautionary nonsense. It wasn’t a really big deal at all. He was always a terrible liar.
I wasn’t the first to visit him. I’ll admit I was too nervous at first. A few of our friends were there when it all went down. Saw him the moment he appeared back in the US. A millisecond trip from Portugal. Of course we all understood the scientific implication of it all. Well and the philosophical implications as well.
He wasn’t the same person we knew after all. I mean he was, but all the matter that made him up wasn’t. Neuron by neuron, cell by cell a perfect replication. I’d imagine there were a few moles now misaligned or birthmarks misplaced, but on a fundamental level, the most core structure of his DNA hadn’t been altered at all. Well at least everyone had assured us.
It’s kind of fascinating though, how the most basic tenets of our self seem to be tied to the eyes. That little flicker that reminds everyone who we are, so expressively dictated by the way we look, process the world. My hesitation to visit him stemmed from my friend’s constant implication that the way he looked at them just seemed off. Like they could see a change in his comprehension through his pupils.
When I sat down next to him though, he seemed just as troubled as always. Serenely assured of his place in the world, but completely at odds with how people expected him to be. I think that’s the key to it all. You can’t judge a person’s character through their eyes until you fully understand the process going on behind them. To know someone intimately is to understand how they think.
“There’s this concept I’ve been reading about a lot lately,” he interrupted, butting into my awkward small talk. I was actually pretty relieved. Hoping he’d have something to say. I didn’t really know how to approach it all.
“It’s this idea of the gaze, that who we are is so dictated by how others view us. And no not in a pseudo intellectual self-help bullshit kind of way. I’m talking about on a metaphysical level. When someone sees you, and makes a judgment about you, they are creating an entity in their mind. A sort of mask that has been placed on you. And the more people you know, the more masks you have. But it’s completely out of your control. It’s terrifying man.”
You could tell he had been pouring through the Sartre starter book teetering ever so precariously on the side table. Something I had sent him back in college after a brief affair with existentialism. Completely full of page markers. To a real extent, the nature of his own existence now a more troubling concept to himself than anyone of us.
“But just think about it.” He went on. “I am literally a different person now. In every sense of the word. My body isn’t mine, the memories; hopes and dreams, that time we went kayaking on the Colorado river during college. That all happened to someone else. And without even realizing it, you are placing this sense of being that is so entrenched in your own mind onto a replica of a human. That’s something fucked up right?”
That’s all bullshit; a thought I initially kept to myself though. Watching his mind turn into a well-oiled mechanism, tied to this notion of being something else. Inauthentic in every way. Or at least to him. I couldn’t keep it in any longer. “There’s a reason all that shit went out of fashion in the sixties, man. Look at fuckin Camus, died in a car crash in his prime. You gotta look at the context, post-war France was a shit-hole. Think of all the science that went into making this, it’s a goddamn miracle. We’re in an age of enlightenment. Who gives a shit that you are not the exact cells you once were? Do you feel like you?”
I suppose I regret going off the rails a little in retrospect. I think it’s completely fair to have a crisis of existence occasionally. For the non-religious crowd, it’s the closest you can get to being re-baptized. He immediately turned inward.
“Fine, fine, you win. It’s all bullshit. You happy now?”
I left the chamber a little while later. Things got a little tense after that. I visited him a couple more times over the next few weeks, but he gradually became quieter and quieter. It didn’t take long for the breakdown to really worsen. I suppose it was always a risk, but they assured he’d be fine. It’s hard to explain to people that you're grieving over someone in a coma. “Maybe he’ll come out of it.” They always would say with a sort of morose exuberance. Like they knew that’d never happen, but they might as well smile.
It wasn’t so much that he fell apart or anything. Never really lost the most basic faculties that dictate whether you're alive or dead, but lost that which really defines someone on a personal level. And it’s weird to be the person to explain it this way now, but you could see it in his eyes. The person who I had grown up with, the person I expected him to be. Could anticipate his thoughts. He slowly disappeared. Eventually becoming a shell. Well sure, I guess that’s really the only apt way to describe it.
He was cells and molecules, neurons and synapses. But he wasn’t my friend. And he slowly slipped into a coma. Almost so gradually it was hard to notice.
The official press release stated, "known risks" and promised "incredible new research" that his loss would not be in vain. Or so that's what they told us.
____________________________
^^Just ^^uploaded ^^8 ^^months ^^worth ^^of ^^stories ^^to ^^/r/SquidCritic ^^if ^^you ^^want ^^to ^^check ^^it ^^out. | 2016-08-25T10:45:52 | 2016-08-25T09:30:51 | 1,076 | 701 |
[WP] You finally won the lottery. $20 million. You go to sleep that night a rich and happy person. You wake up to a nurse, explaining you've just awoken from a coma.
Edit: for everyone saying "taxes on the winnings and medical bills for the coma"....I'm Canadian. I never thought of such atrocities. | One million Bitcoin... One million Bitcoin... It couldn't be possible. Nobody had that many Bitcoin... except... it couldn't be. By some astronomical-age-of-the-universe-to-calculate-the-key-of-it-chance, the wallet that I just generated was a collision with an existing wallet... THE wallet. My hands trembled as I held the mnemonic seed that I had just transcribed during the setup process. The wallet balance hadn't been on the screen until I clicked "Next".
I couldn't even comprehend how rich I was. Afraid to click anything on my screen lest it disappear into the digital ether, I stared dumbly at my monitor, the insipid taste immediately evident in my suddenly dry mouth that was open to the air dumbly like the rear door of a bomber.
My mind racing... there had to be some error with the wallet. There's no way that this is real, but there was only one way to be sure. The cursor crept across the screen, my palpitations nearly audible through my chest. The keyboard rattled under my fingers as I typed the amount 350 BTC (one million dollars!). My chest heaved and the air came out of me in a huge sigh... I think I'm going to be sick... the deed was done; I only had to wait for confirmations. I stared blankly at the screen for 15seconds before I started to feel the headache forming in the front of my head. There's no way I was going to stay up being crazy when I could just check it in the morning. Given that the Segwit idiots were still blocking Bitcoin Unlimited it could be anywhere from 10 minutes to 10 hours.
I popped a couple melatonin and stretched out in my bed. If this was a crazy dream, I wanted out right now. I'll wake up in the morning and everything will make sense again.
--------
--------
"$200,000 transaction fee in the mempool up for grabs!"
"We need UASF now! Transaction fees out of control! $200,000 fee is proof."
"Satoshi Lives! Satoshi coins move for the first time in 8 years."
"Twitter: Satoshi transaction confirmed... What happens now?"
"CoinMarketCap: Satoshi is back and what it means for the future of Bitcoin."
--------
"Wake up. You're safe now."
The face above me looked kind enough, even if she was just a blurry smudge.
"Huh, what's happened...?"
I looked around at the clean white walls of a hospital room. It didn't look like an emergency room. How long was I here?
"They found you just in time... The police said something about hackers finding you and trying to hurt you. I have no idea what they could possibly have wanted so bad that they'd try to kill you like this."
The nurse shrugged and smiled. I felt a sick pit in my stomach. I couldn't bring myself to say anything. She continued despite my lack of input.
"The doctor will be in to see you in a little bit. You've been out for weeks. When they brought you in we didn't think you were going to make it, but you're recovering nicely. I brought in your personal effects and I took the liberty to charge your cell phone so you can call your family."
I frantically pulled up my Coinbase wallet on my phone. I knew that the rest of the million were probably gone, stolen from me like every other good thing that's happened to me, but I still had the 350 BTC. I'm a millionaire. I sighed relief as the wallet opened and I saw the number 350.46574301 BTC.
Wait.
What.
The squiggly line in the chart looked like a crooked sine wave diminishing down to the bottom edge of the graph.
350.46574301 BTC ($3.51). | "You're pulling my leg, Janet. There's no way that can be true. I've been a healthy man all my life! What on earth happened?"
"I'm sorry, Mr. ...uh, Maxwell Davidson, but I don't know who this Janet is. I'm your nurse, you can call me Rachel; at least that's what at the folks here at the hospital call me."
"Janet is my wife, I thought she was playing a trick on me; you do look a lot like her, I suppose. Does she know about all this? Most importantly, what on earth happened‽"
"Mr. Davidson, my expertise is not in assessing people's mental states after an accident, but it certainly seems as though you've forgotten, and made up, and awful lot. As far as we know, you've never had a wife. You were in a terrible car accident, and although your body has made a good recovery, you sustained more damage to your head than many others I've seen."
"I'm almost certain my name is Carl Prichard. I certainly don't feel any different. Can't you people just let me out? I'm fine, and I have some important business to complete."
Instinctively checking his pockets for the winning lottery ticket, Carl found nothing. In fact, any form of identification was absent from his body. Seeing his confusion, Rachel spoke up:
"Maxwell, we've changed your clothes a few times over your weeks at the hospital. We have your wallet for when you're ready to go. Other than your jarred memories, you seem fine, so the doctor should be able to discharge within the next day."
As if on a cue, Doctor David Granger entered the room to explain the specifics of the accident with his patient for the next few minutes. While Carl's confidence in his memories was slowly whittled away with each of Granger's statements, Rachel left the room, telling the doctor she was going upstairs prepare the next meal.
In the kitchen, a man was looking over the $20 million lottery ticket in Carl Prichard's name. When he heard her steps coming up the stairs, he asked her about the operation's progress.
"Well, I think we're doing a good job at changing his memories for the time being." Rachel replied. "He looked around in his pockets, and I think he might know something is wrong judging by the fact he doesn't have major bodily injuries. If we do this all quickly, we'll be able to get away with it."
The two walked to their van with Carl's ID and winning lottery ticket as Rachel plugged the lottery's headquarters address into her phone.
"It say's we can be there in two hours. Silly thing had to be put at the state capital... why not make it in the biggest city? As long as David can keep him in our mock-up hospital room until noon, we should be able to claim the cash without any issues."
---
Mired in confusion, Carl was now demanding to see his ID.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Davidson, we have to run some routine tests before we can leave you. For one thing, I have to know that you're mentally well, and this outrage is not helping you in that manner. Please be calm, and I may even be able to clear you by the afternoon. I can understand this is difficult to cope with, but all those memories were just made up in these last few weeks."
Stalling for time, Granger said he had to check up on some other patients and would be back in about fifteen minutes.
He locked the door behind him before returning upstairs to call Rachel.
---
By the end of the phone call, the three were content with their progress, and with each passing minute, Rachel and the man were drawing nearer to the lottery office. Throughout the morning, Granger continued to "check up" on Carl and "run some tests," buying himself the couple hours before the heist of sorts was complete.
When Rachel pulled into the parking lot of the Big Bucks Lottery HQ, the man put on his hat, took Carl's ID and already-signed lottery ticket, and went in to claim the money.
Rachel watched the minutes pass on the van's clock as she waited for her accomplice to return. She turned on the radio to distract her, imagining the words being spoken: "Yes, my name is Carl Prichard." "Yes, I would like the instant money; yeah, I'm not patient enough for the annuity." "Here's the bank account I would like the money in."
A hundred miles away, the real Carl Prichard was ready to blow a gasket. Not ready to succumb to the lies he was being told, the man busted down the room's door, revealing a residential home's hallway. At the sound of mayhem, Granger immediately ran out the door and sped away in his car.
Rachel's phone was now ringing. "Hey, is he still okay," she immediately asked.
"No, he busted down the door, and right about now, he'll be finding out he was in an empty foreclosed home for the last 24 hours. Surely his head has stopped hurting from what we did last night, and he'll probably be calling his wife with the next phone he can get his hands on."
The one they called Rachel hung up; she was now sweating profusely. Why wouldn't he come out? Were the lottery people suspicious of him? The doors opened. An employee walked out, looking for a "white van." He approached Rachel's door and asked if she could come in as a family member and witness.
She was led to a small room, and asked if she could testify that the man before her was Carl Prichard. Forcing excitement, she got out an unconvincing "yes." Convinced enough, the frustrated employee checked off the boxes, and gave the go-ahead to forwarding the money into an off-shores account.
Filled with relief, Carl Prichard's unfaithful wife and boyfriend left the lottery office, each $10 million wealthier as they blocked David's phone number and drove far, far away. | 2017-06-06T09:16:10 | 2017-06-06T09:13:58 | 56 | 19 |
[WP] When you die, your ghost remains in the world until the last person who remembers you also dies. 15,000 years after your death, you are still here. | I think it's been 15,000 years. Or at least, somewhere around that. I'm not really sure. I haven't left the house in a few millennia at least. There's no point. All I end up doing is scaring a few people, and death goes on. Besides, no matter where I go, it's crowded.
The space issue gets worse in the big cities, and don't even get me started on India and most of Asia. It isn't as bad in the remote regions of the world; Antarctica was only recently populated. I'd say 4000 years ago, give or take a few decades.
15,000 years ago, I was caught in an apartment fire. I woke up and passed out within a minute or two. It actually wasn't that bad. Just a sore throat for a bit. The living don't know it, but there is an after life. To reach it, all you have to do is pass out of memory.
For the big guys like the pharoahs and kings, the great philosophers and warlords, it's been even longer. The trappings of history have bound them forever. As long as there stands a museum dedicated to them, they remain. They make for ok company.
I was just a normal guy from a place that used to be called Virginia. I should have been on my way a few decades after I died. It took me a long time to figure it out, but eventually it dawned on me and all of the other millions of lost souls.
Being able to connect with everyone around the world instantaneously is awesome when you're alive. If you're dead, a digital you is floating around out there, remembered eternally on the almighty internet.
Most of us have accepted it, so we patiently wait for an apocalypse. We pray for the end of all things, and curse Mark Zuckerberg. | 15,000 years is a long time. It's certainly much longer than most of my kind are capable of thinking in. Today, most of them say that it is the year "2017 AD." I, however, can remember people who said it was "747 AVC." I could remember even farther back to a time and place when it was said to be "the 37th year of the reign of Sargon" and further beyond that to the very fist time a woman etched "Year 1" into a rock to track the history of her farming village. That barely even scratched the surface.
It had been 15,000 years since a boar's tusk had pierced my shoulder while trying to catch one for the farm on the river bank. 15,000 years since the festering infection had claimed my body and my life. 14,800 years since the absolute most generous estimates should've sent me on from this world. I was still here.
Ghosts are tethered to the living. When the last person who remembers you dies, you finally vanish. In my day this meant a particularly legendary figure might last 7 generations. An exceptionally old person might last 4-5. More recent people like Alexander the Great had lasted thousands of years thanks to the invention of written history
So far as I knew, the last person to know me alive must have died on that little farm on the banks of the Eruk, well most people called it the "Tigris" these days.
In the last 15,000 years I'd done a lot. Ghosts don't have the superpowers people imagine us with. We're basically just humans that fluctuate in and out of visibility and corporeality. So I can walk through walls, but I've gotta walk like anyone else. No flying, no apparating, no possessing the living, just walking. That's fine by me, you can sneak on to most forms of transit when you're invisible. I remember walking westward, following the sun to see where it landed after my Great-great niece died. I ended up in the luscious and green Sahara with a much better understanding of science than anyone else would develop for a few thousand years. I haven't really stopped walking since and am proud to say that I think I've covered the entire Earth, twice for most places
I hadn't been visible in about 1200 years. Too many religions started that way. I switch over to tangibility all the time though to do little guardian angel type things from fishing someone's keys out of the pool and onto their towel to pulling the firing pin out of a soldier's gun for an innocent family. Little things, sometimes big consequences. My whole afterlife chnaged while doing the latter.
I had recently made the trek home to Eruk, or Mesopotamia, or Iraq, or whatever it's called these days. It was the biggest shitshow I'd seen there since the Mongols. I pulled the firing pin out of a ISIS militant's gun while he was looking down the barrel at a Yazidi woman. The distraction was just long enough for a government soldier to take a shot at the militant. I almost didn't look, but when I did, I saw the soldier's face. He wasn't Arab, his facial features were too broad, his hair too tightly curled, and his skin too dark. He looked like me...
I quickly became visible, standing strange and anachronistic in my animal skin kilt with an apparent wound in my shoulder. My unevenly chopped hair cropped close to my skull and a short and curly beard was similar cut around my jaw. A tattoo adorned my right shoulder, a family symbol of a sort. I saw the recognition in his eyes and the fear of one who has seen a ghost. The soldier's gun fell, but he didnt seem to notice as his hand clutched his own right shoulder.
I knew at that moment, that soldier knew me. He was from Eruk. He was 15,000 years old, and for some reason he was still alive.
| 2017-06-26T13:11:54 | 2017-06-26T12:12:09 | 55 | 39 |
[WP] When you die, your ghost remains in the world until the last person who remembers you also dies. 15,000 years after your death, you are still here. | 15,000 years is a long time. It's certainly much longer than most of my kind are capable of thinking in. Today, most of them say that it is the year "2017 AD." I, however, can remember people who said it was "747 AVC." I could remember even farther back to a time and place when it was said to be "the 37th year of the reign of Sargon" and further beyond that to the very fist time a woman etched "Year 1" into a rock to track the history of her farming village. That barely even scratched the surface.
It had been 15,000 years since a boar's tusk had pierced my shoulder while trying to catch one for the farm on the river bank. 15,000 years since the festering infection had claimed my body and my life. 14,800 years since the absolute most generous estimates should've sent me on from this world. I was still here.
Ghosts are tethered to the living. When the last person who remembers you dies, you finally vanish. In my day this meant a particularly legendary figure might last 7 generations. An exceptionally old person might last 4-5. More recent people like Alexander the Great had lasted thousands of years thanks to the invention of written history
So far as I knew, the last person to know me alive must have died on that little farm on the banks of the Eruk, well most people called it the "Tigris" these days.
In the last 15,000 years I'd done a lot. Ghosts don't have the superpowers people imagine us with. We're basically just humans that fluctuate in and out of visibility and corporeality. So I can walk through walls, but I've gotta walk like anyone else. No flying, no apparating, no possessing the living, just walking. That's fine by me, you can sneak on to most forms of transit when you're invisible. I remember walking westward, following the sun to see where it landed after my Great-great niece died. I ended up in the luscious and green Sahara with a much better understanding of science than anyone else would develop for a few thousand years. I haven't really stopped walking since and am proud to say that I think I've covered the entire Earth, twice for most places
I hadn't been visible in about 1200 years. Too many religions started that way. I switch over to tangibility all the time though to do little guardian angel type things from fishing someone's keys out of the pool and onto their towel to pulling the firing pin out of a soldier's gun for an innocent family. Little things, sometimes big consequences. My whole afterlife chnaged while doing the latter.
I had recently made the trek home to Eruk, or Mesopotamia, or Iraq, or whatever it's called these days. It was the biggest shitshow I'd seen there since the Mongols. I pulled the firing pin out of a ISIS militant's gun while he was looking down the barrel at a Yazidi woman. The distraction was just long enough for a government soldier to take a shot at the militant. I almost didn't look, but when I did, I saw the soldier's face. He wasn't Arab, his facial features were too broad, his hair too tightly curled, and his skin too dark. He looked like me...
I quickly became visible, standing strange and anachronistic in my animal skin kilt with an apparent wound in my shoulder. My unevenly chopped hair cropped close to my skull and a short and curly beard was similar cut around my jaw. A tattoo adorned my right shoulder, a family symbol of a sort. I saw the recognition in his eyes and the fear of one who has seen a ghost. The soldier's gun fell, but he didnt seem to notice as his hand clutched his own right shoulder.
I knew at that moment, that soldier knew me. He was from Eruk. He was 15,000 years old, and for some reason he was still alive.
| I was young when it all happened. A thief in the night had claimed my life and my blood had been spilled onto the ground. I remembered all of the steps after when my body was bitten and drained of all blood and just torn asunder like I was just some sack of meat to be had. It all happened right after I had seen Simon- the vampire I had grown to love in my town.
I got to explore so many places like he had without any needs to avoid the sun or to crave anything. I met with many figures I had studied in my schooling days and became friends with quite a few. I had seen change happen over the course of time- time I lost track of rather quickly. To me, I finally got the change of a lifetime to see the world that Simon described to me through his tales of the Earth we both shared. I finally understood why he encouraged me to explore and am thankful he did.
Time crawled onward and I could see from the sidelines how countries rose and fell. Things certainly were not going to be like 2017 anymore and it was bittersweet to see that. My family that I had eventually passed away and I could wave them goodbye as they all were able to be free from the shackles of this realm. I encouraged their leaving and also waited for my turn. In due time, I knew I would have my time to leave too.
But it never came.
In fact, 15,000 years had passed and I still remained here. I got to see the same figures I had met like Miss Anne Frank, Marie Laveau, Theodore Roosevelt, and even Edgar Allan Poe when he wanted to show up. They all wondered who could have possibly been alive to keep me here as I would sit with them and think long and hard about who could possibly have been alive to remember me to this day. I talked to each and every one of them about how I had died as they all did ask, and described the night before I had died.
Each felt warm and had softened at the tale of how Simon and I had walked around town under the full moon and danced around the clocktower that was in the middle of my town. I was clumsy and could not dance well while I was alive, but he had been patient with me and hummed soft music while leading me through a waltz under the stars. It was one of the best nights in my life despite what happened afterwards. Because I felt so loved and cared for during those last moments, and I knew Simon could relate. When escorting me home, he kept me close and safe before letting me go with a kiss on the hand and a proposition to return the next night.
I agreed and we left each other's company- a fatal mistake it would be for me.
Then it hit me like a bat to the head, perhaps unneeded to travel home for a change and investigate there. So I said goodbyes to the individuals I had grown to know during my afterlife and traveled back to my hometown that held the clocktower in the middle. To my delight, the clocktower had still been there despite the many changes in the town that I had seen. It felt so foreign to me, but I shook the memories I had off and traveled to the clocktower where Simon was hopefully living.
How I had not understood that it was most likely Simon keeping me here, I did not know. Perhaps it was because I did not gain any intelligence after the afterlife to think that a vampire still kept me in his memory? It did not matter much now as I went to the switch that was by the clocktower and turned it before entering the door into a grande estate and began calling for the vampire I remembered so well, "Simon! Simon!" I wandered the familiar halls in hopes he could hear me. Since vampires were technically not alive either, they should be able to hear me, right?
So I traveled from the guest and mater bedroom to find a portrait of me had been made in his room. I could not help but grow a saddened smile as my suspicions were correct. After investigating the greenery room, I made my way into the library and heard the familiar humming as I peeked up and called out to the keeper of this estate again, "Simon! Simon, are you here??"
I could see the familiar man with darkened hair and slender body as he looked my way and stopped dead in his tracks when cleaning. He looked like he had seen a ghost, and he was right to appear that way as I could not help myself and ran to him, trying to hug him but not gaining any success as his voice cracked slightly with the shock and excitement he felt, "Soleil! How are you even here?! Shouldn't you be prancing around heaven or something like that, young lady!? Do you realize how much time has passed??"
I could not help but laugh when hearing the change in Simon's voice as I smiled happily at him and responded with a serene tone, "I already am Simon. Also, I do realize how much time has passed. I keep track of it since I cannot leave here. It has been 15,000 years since it all ended and began." At those words, I could see Simon's excitement and expression drop at the mentioning of how long it truly had been and thought to himself before bowing his head and nodding slowly.
"Yes... It truly has been that long, hasn't it Soleil? I want to apologize to you. For not figuring out what would happen and not trying to save you from that horrible fate. I wished with all of my might that he could have left you be or perhaps spare you long enough for me to let you join me in a different manner than as a spirit." I could tell this topic was a sore spot and I gently reached out to him. Even though he could not feel my touch, he understood the gesture and looked up to me again with an apologetic look in his eyes before I responded.
"Simon, instead of sulking here like a little bat, let's try to make the best of this and stay in each other's lives once more? We both technically have achieved immortality in a sense. Let's make the best of our time before you eventually go?" A smile slowly grew on Simon's face as he nodded his head and responded with the softest of voices,
"Yes. Let's do that this time, Soleil." | 2017-06-26T12:12:09 | 2017-06-26T12:04:53 | 39 | 10 |
[WP] After thousands of years on a generation ship sent out to colonize the universe, nobody alive on board the ship believes in the "myth" of Planet Earth anymore. Until they receive the first transmission from Earth in hundreds of years... | "It's a lie. Or fake."
"Its a message from the gods"
"I told you earth was real"
These phrases and many more were heard throughout the hull of the space ship. Every single crewmemeber, old and young, Male and female, were questioning the origin and intent of the message received. This time however the questions were not coming from some lowly engineer or cook... no this time they were said by members of the supreme command council.
"Silence!" the skipper roared at the assembled members. "We must decide how to act!" "The signal was truly along the path of travel so if there was or rather is an earth it is genuinely from there" the head of navigation interjected. "As far as I am concerned there is an actual earth" the lead astronomist said. At this point the head priest angrily interrupted "impossible! The earth is but an allegory! The message is the work of dark forces trying to tempt us to evil!" This understandably stalled the conversation for a minute until from the back of the room a quiet voice asked "but what exactly was the message?"
"The message," the skipper said, "is the following: 'earth is doomed. Destruction imminent. Catastrophic asteroid to destroy us. Continue on for you are the last of us. The age of the dinosaur is over.'"
Edit: spelling fix | This story is based in the same universe as [this](https://www.reddit.com/r/phreaklikeme/comments/8vv4sj/wp_as_long_as_you_keep_praying_everyone_stays/) prompt I did a while ago.
---
"What does this mean, Haruspex?" asked Governer Merther, voicing the concerns of the council.
Haruspex Toyne could almost taste the tension in the air. This was the Time of Tribulation; not only was hope dwindling of finding a new Haruspex to replace him, but now they had to deal with a message from whatever gods or demons were trying to speak to them. The Heralds had spoken with a new voice today, one that had not been heard before. Whatever was being said must have been important indeed, for even the Goddess announced it. Dutifully, Toyne had poured over the message for hours, buying as much time as he could from the curiosity of the council. But he could defer them no longer.
Breathing deeply to steady himself, he felt the weight of his age as he stood up. Slowly, he placed the Mitre over his head once more, pleading with the Goddess to replay the message.
"Greetings, Oracle. This is Earth-Commandante Roker. Our records show you have been wandering for a long time, but we're glad to say you have made it back home. We will be sending out a vessel to make sure everyone is ok, and that the ship is in good condition to land. Please grant them permission to dock, and we look forward to seeing you all soon."
The silence in the room was deafening, but all eyes were now transfixed firmly on the Haruspex as he removed the mitre carefully and replaced it on the Sepulchre.
"Not much can be gleaned from the message. It appears to be the same ancient language of our Prayers. For example, the Herald speaks of Ara-Su, one of the ancient Gardens. As you all know many generations ago, heretics proclaimed that Ara-Su was the Primary Garden; the well-spring of life. As such, this message may well be heretic. If we wish to avoid bloodshed like in the War of Gardens, we would do well to conceal knowledge of this message."
The Sepulchre was as silent as the grave; no one even dared breathe. The very thought of a recurrence of the War of Gardens was enough to send shivers down one's spine.
The silence was broken by the Heralds once more, followed by the gentle voice of the Goddess.
"Vessel detected, seeking permission to dock. Interception time t minus eighteen hours. Select Protocol."
Toyne looked over at Merther. "Governer, they are almost here. What would you have me do?"
Merther bit his lower lip in anxiety. He could not risk another war, there was too much at stake. Hell, who knew how much longer they'd have the Haruspex for? His age was showing, and he had no children to succeed him. He looked over at Toyne, his eyes beseeching him to make the call. Toyne nodded in understanding.
Carefully replacing the Mitre on his head, Toyne recited the ancient prayer of his ancestors.
"Initiate airspace intruder protocol six. Arm all systems, fire at will."
---
If you enjoyed this story and would like to see more from me, please consider subscribing to my subreddit [here](https://www.reddit.com/r/phreaklikeme/)! | 2018-08-28T08:10:26 | 2018-08-28T08:08:26 | 2,613 | 32 |
[WP] Aliens invite you and your crew to dinner aboard their ship. After noticing all the courses have contained either chocolate, coffee or alcohol you slowly realize that they have been trying to poison you not realizing many of our favorite foods are poison to most of the other lifeforms on Earth. | Ice sat before a plate of delectable foods, but despite the show he put on for his enemies, he was no fool. The white haired commander of the human mercenary group smiled cordially as he took a rather large bite of a chocolate bar, washing it down with a sip of Bourbon. The Warlord in front of gave him a confident smirk in response, certain in his victory over the small human.
Ice wiped his mouth off before speaking. "This was delicious, my compliments to the chef. If its all the same to you, I'd love to know what that was."
The Klar'Nak's grin widened further, his shark like teeth on full display. Rows of razor sharp ivory that looked more than capable of slicing limbs apart. "Well, since you've already eaten it, I see no harm in telling you now. In the course of that meal, you consumed capsaicin, chocolate and ethanol. The capsaicin was hidden in the sauce of your wings, the chocolate on that dessert you just ate and the ethanol in that glass of liquid there. Juding by your size, you have mere minutes before succumbing to their effects."
Through the whole speech, Ice had been reacting accordingly, eyes widening in surprise, grabbing at his collar to feign overheating and gritting his teeth in frustration and anger. He pretended to calm his nerves and schooled his expression into one of stoicism.
"I see. So this "peace dinner" was not for negotiations then?"
The host of the false dinner scoffed, rolling his eyes in a human like display. "Of course not, you fool. I thought we made it clear at the start of this war that the only way this would end was in victory or with every man, woman and child of Klar'Nak dead with a weapon in hand. There shall be no negotiations unless you wish to surrender."
Ice probed for more information. "You believe you can defeat the entire Human Empire?"
"If you want to call your band of divided factions an empire, than yes, I know we can defeat you primitive apes. You have done most of the work for me already; fighting amongst yourselves, rather than unite under a common banner. It will be a simple task to put money in the hands of the second most powerful faction. As is your nature, they will attack the only faction stronger than them, who we will carefully monitor and supply with just enough weapons and supplies to stay even with their enemy. With them out of the way, the less powerful factions can be taken out one at a time, their resources adding to my own efforts. Once the rest of them realize whats happening, it will be too late. It's only a shame you won't live long enough to see your species enslaved. You will die knowing that your race is doomed. Do you have any more questions?"
The ever present smirk never left the Warlords face as he waited for the human to keel over.
"Just one. Did you do any research into human anatomy before this dinner, or did you just assume we share the same weaknesses? That's actually a rhetorical question. Had you done your research, you would have learned I am actually a Scotch man. Whiskey doesn't really do it for me." Ice drained his cup anyway, setting it down and leaning back, a smile touching the corner of his lips. "We were well aware you'd be monitoring radio broadcasts from your ship, so a live feed was out of the question, however, a simple, old fashion tape recorder was more than adequate for my needs. After all, why check for recorders when you were going to poison your guest anyway?"
The large Lamnidae's expression darkened, "What makes you think you'll be allowed to leave with that? You won't be returning to your ship. As we speak, my forces are most likely commandeering you fleet and looting your crews."
"Ah, yes. Your boarding crew. Well herein lies the problem, do you know what effect helium has on human beings? That's not a rhetorical question by the way. What do you think it does?"
He seemed annoyed by the question, but answered anyway. "Death, of course. Helium is one of the most deadly toxins."
Ice grinned, "You've been outmanuvered. See, unlike you, I did my research. Helium is a toxin for you, but in low amounts, helium is harmless for us over short periods. Hell, clowns breath the stuff to make kids laugh. My crew is currently having a good time in an atmosphere 3% helium. After a few hours they may experience negative effects such as dizziness and nausea, but your crew is not as lucky. Oh, and that button you're pressing under the table isn't going to work."
Ice snapped his fingers and a two scores of his own soldiers filed into the room from all sides, standing at attention with their rifles.
"Checkmate, friend. This here tape should be enough to convince any of the factions to join me in this war. Thank you for your contribution to the cause." | It had been a very long time since I was requested as a "Third contact delegate." I had been invited to share a meal, along with representatives of the other members of the Universal Government, at small event hosted by the newest Xenospecies seeking to join the U.G. Usually a task for my boss, however he was out with more pressing business as usual.
In procedure with interaction with a new xenospecies, I had every piece of my U.T. on me, and the collar chafed as usual. Presenting our gracious host with my speech-to-text tablet, I graciously thanked him and his kind for their hospitality and offered the traditional Earth bread-basket as a good will. After receiving what my U.T. assumed with a middling probability was a likewise courteous greeting, I took back my tablet and went to join with my fellow representatives. Scanning the room, I notice the Borpan junior representative chatting with the only other xeno who would put up with them, the Touvrian representative. Matching the Borpan's laughter after a particularly vulgar witticism, I approach the duo.
"Good evening delegate Borpan, delegate Touvri." I address them both, give a short bow to each, which they politely return.
"Greatings to you delegate Earth." the Touvrian fluoresces vis responce.
"Wadda think of that zigger my boy came up with Earthie?" The Borpan asked, stifling another laughing fit.
"Certainly humorous, perhaps for not mixed company however." I respond
"Aye, that's my boy." He burps with pride, slapping a sticky hand on my shoulder. I manage a shy smile before turning my attention to the Touvrian in our company.
"Tell me delegate Touvri, what do you know about our hosts this evening? This dinner was dropped on me and I confess I'm a bit behind on my 'official' reading."
"Yes. The Ddràdoks are a formally fearful, war-like species, not unlike your own, that have unified only within the past Universal century. Their solar system is densely packed with planetoids, as a result they met first contact qualifications almost as quickly as your xenospecies. As well they instantly requested admission to the Universal Government, which was equally surprising. I would not describe their advancement and admission as miraculously quick as your xenospecies, but they have certainly been quick about it all." I could tell the jellyfish-like xenospecies was eager to continue, but I politely thanked them for their knowledge before they continued to strobe my ear off. I offered them a moment of my time later in the evening to continue their findings. With that I took my leave, perhaps a little faster than was necessary.
Before I could approach my fellow Milky Way representatives, an all-language broadcast was pumped into the dining hall announcing the evening's meal was about to be served. Each of the representatives were quickly ushered to specific places around a large, round, planar surface, sitting less than half a meter above the ground. I was seated between the Eridani and Keplerian representatives. I curtly greeted them both, and the two reciprocated, however they both seemed rather displeased with the short table and lack of chairs.
A shrill, nails-against-glass sound rang out through the room, fallowed by a troupe of Zweil Ddràdok morphs carrying comparatively large covered platters to each seat. I quickly noticed that each Zweil had a golden clasp covering their gem organ, not something I'd ever seen before, and made a mental note of. Every platter was placed in a simultaneous flourish around the table. But my server made a mistake and knocked the golden clasp from off her gem. The deep turquoise of her gem instantly flooded the immediate area with a palpable mental-fog of apprehension. All of my hair instantly stood on end an my heart-rate quickened.
Many other Zweil dashed to her side and helped her replace her clasp before a Ddràdoks quickly overran her with a wave of admonishment, and dragged her away, leaving the other Zweil unsure of what to do. Another Ddràdoks stepped out from behind a panel in the wall and angrily hissed, causing all the Zweil to straiten up and bolt towards the new door. A moment later I heard some rhythmic laughter from the Borpan delegate and his neighbors.
"That's not a good sign for the evening," the Keplerian to my left grumbled in his chalky baritone.
"Certainly not. I have a Zweil at home, that was probably that poor girl's dominant, and I haven't felt anything that strong in a long time."
"Yeah? What's your's dom? If I may ask."
"Sure, it's curiosity and wonder." I reply. He nods in affirmation as people start turning their attention back to the platters in front of them. I remove the cloche from the platter only to find what appears to be a dark brown pudding, and two different beverages. All the familiar smells hit me at once as I recognize chocolate, malt beer and black coffee. I look up in confusion and see many other delegates around the table equally confused.
"What is this?!" The hulking Eridani next to me roars. He leans into his platter and smells deeply with his animalistic olfactory senses.
"This is not food, it is poison! It is death!" He bellows. As he raises a fuss, the rest of the delegates begin showing indignation or anger.
"My food seems to be fine." I protest, but it is lost on mostly deaf ears, only the Borpan confirms that his food is also fine, though a large mouthful.
"This is an act of aggression! Fellow delegates we must leave. All in favor?" Clicked and hissed the Trellwen delegate. Many members shouted in confirmation, and quickly a security squad of U.G. guards were rushing into room.
_______
After such an awful evening, and subsequent awful morning and half the day wading through the U.G. anti-aggression bureaucracy, the cold, metal finish of outer bulkhead of my apartment was a very welcoming sight. after pulling off my freshly decontaminated coat and shoes, it took everything my legs could muster to get back onto my feet and walk my tired body into the apartment proper. Valley was by my side faster than she'd ever moved before.
"Welcome home Love, I saw on the news what had happened and I am so relieved you are safe." She cooed and purred. I place my increasingly heavy hand on her head and lace my fingers between the crown of her ridge. I rub my thumb along the pink gem in her forehead.
"Hello Valley, I know you must have a million questions, but more than anything, right now, I need some sleep."
"Then I will help Love in any way I can." She responds with a dutiful air. She takes my hand in her little hands and begins to pull me towards the bedroom.
"I couldn't want anything more."
_____
I hope you've enjoyed my story. I've created a subreddit to share the stories of these characters. All future works and prompt inspired stories can be found at [/r/ValleyandMe](https://www.reddit.com/r/ValleyandMe/) | 2018-09-20T00:32:10 | 2018-09-19T21:29:03 | 158 | 109 |
[WP] You live in a world of magicians whose powers and spells stem from the four classical elements (fire, earth, air, water). One day, you come across a strange man raving about tables and periods... | The park was a modest little creation, just one solid piece of rock just under fifty meters a side. The Earth wizards had pulled it from the ocean years ago, and with the help of the Air wizards, settled it at a height of about two kilometers over the ocean. With the help of the Water and Fire wizards, biochemistry had begun, and various forms of life unique to the park began to flourish. Kariss fancied he could see the tiniest insects hatching out of the earth, life birthing itself out of nothingness as it always did. The little park was dotted with a few other wizards, each going about their business, one or two leaning over the edge to enjoy the spectacular view of a waterfall, falling off the edge of one side, for the whole two kilometers down to the ocean.
Kariss and Meng were about twenty meters away from their teleporter gate when a shabbily-dressed man burst out of the bushes and began raving at them incoherently.
"Lies! Lies!" Spit hung off the corners of his mouth and flew off in a dozen ballistic vectors. Meng cursed and made a little gesture with his hand, and the specks dramatically changed course before they came into contact with him.
"Lies!" yelled the man again. He pointed at Meng. "Liar! Liar! Earth, air, fire, water! Lies! Lies! Nonsense!"
Kariss frowned and turned to Meng curiously. Meng shrugged.
"Elementalist," he explained, more than a little irritably. "Just some crackpot."
"Crackpot! Cracked pot? No! No! It was the lead, not the cracked pots!" The madman's crooked gaze swiveled to Kariss. He seemed to calm down a little.
"Lies," he said imploringly, "all lies. Don't you understand? Earth, air, fire, water? Lies! Lies!"
Meng pulled Kariss aside. "He doesn't believe in the four elements," he murmured. "He believes in the atomic model instead."
"What?" said Kariss, astonished. He turned back to the man. "But if we aren't made out of the four elements-"
Meng began waving his hands in frantic *no no don't provoke him don't do it* gestures.
"-what are we made out of, then?"
Meng silently put his hands over his eyes. "Oh, spirits," he murmured. "Kariss, I have an appointment to get to."
The man's eyes gleamed beneath layers of dirt. "Atoms!" he yelled triumphantly. "Atoms! Tiny, tiny atoms! So small - so small that you can't even see them! They're invisible! In-visible!"
"Well, what are the atoms made out of?" said Kariss patiently.
"Electrons!" said the man. "Electrons, neutrons, protons! Positivity and negativity - those are the real elements! And they make up atoms!"
Meng rolled his eyes, made a *see?* gesture at Kariss. Behind the madman, two younger wizards entered the teleporter that Kariss and Meng would have already used had this idiot not jumped into their way.
"Only two elements?" said Kariss, incredulously. "But that's absurd! You need at least four!" But the man was still raving.
"And different combinations of those - they make all kinds of - they make everything! Every kind of material! And combinations of them - they make even more -"
"Okay, fine," said Kariss, "but first of all, what are those - what'd you call them? Electronics?"
"Electrons!"
"Very well. And what are they made out of?"
The man stopped for a moment. Even the frothing spit on his mouth seemed to still.
"I don't know," he whispered after a moment. But then he brightened.
"But we could find out! Yes! Take two electrons and crash them together so they blow up! Then see what they're made out of! Yes!"
Meng burst out laughing. Kariss tried to retain some semblance of patience. "That's not how chemistry works," he said. "If you take some water, and you collide it with more water, you just get different kinds of water. You don't get some new kind of element entirely. It sounds like you'd just keep getting different kinds of smaller and smaller things out of your 'collider' forever. It doesn't make sense."
"Oh," said the man, and for a brief second, Kariss thought he had won. But then the man glanced around himself and some new perverse inspiration seemed to strike. "There's no one world!" he yelled. "It's every possible past combined together! Take a cat, and put it into a box, and -"
Meng began pulling Kariss away. "We're done here," he said. "See, we need to use that teleporter *today*, and-"
"Teleporter? Teleporter?!" All vestiges of calm vanished in a heartbeat from the man's face. "No! Lies! Lies! Impossible!"
"You came here in one, man," said Meng, finally completely exasperated.
"No! Lies! The universe has a *speed limit*!" The man began gesticulating wildly. "As you get closer to it, *time slows down!* But only for you!"
Kariss burst out laughing. As they entered the teleporter, the man was still raving.
"Sum the states!" he howled. "All of the states! Sum them! Sum them to infinity! That's how you get the temperature!"
&#x200B; | The old man always stared at the stars above, his eyes seemingly peering into the world beyond the darkness. In his hands was a strange device he created, a <telescope>, something that he used to magnify the stars into distinguishable shapes.
&#x200B;
The first time I peered through them and looked at the three moons floating above the continent, I saw mountains and valleys on their surface, a desolate land. There were no citadels, no palaces, no Gods.
&#x200B;
"They are no Gods." He whispered into my ear. "Look at the moon. They are no Gods there." The old man held my trembling hands and veered them towards the other moons. No Gods.
&#x200B;
It shook me to the core - there are no Gods. No deities, no beasts, no man lived on the surface of the moon. Nothing was there. Lunaris, Archimendies, Taria. the three Goddesses of the Moon, they are not real. Legends lie.
&#x200B;
Something broke in me that day. I left the Academy for Magic and decided to follow him as his only disciple. People may scorn and shame me for my idiocracy, but, there are no Gods.
&#x200B;
He did not acknowledge my status as his disciple for the first three months. He was on a quest, looking at rocks throughout the continent. I do not understand what he was doing, but I followed.
&#x200B;
In the volcanic ranges of the northern hemisphere, he found what he wanted. A yellow rock, emitting a pungent scent. *Brimstone.* What does he want to do with that?
&#x200B;
"Sulfur." He called it. "This is sulfur. A crucial ingredient for gunpowder."
&#x200B;
*Sulfur? Gunpowder?* I did not understand, but, looking at the way he looked at the stone, I trembled a little. An ominous feeling engulfed me.
&#x200B;
The next few months are spent settling down in a village close to the volcanic range. The ground there is exceeding fertile for crops - according to legends the volcanic range was the corpse of a dead god and the soil is his flesh and blood. The locals prided themselves on their produce and called themselves the servants of the fallen God, and with a bit of gold coin I was able to convince them to let us stay in an temporary lodging.
&#x200B;
The old man took the rock out and ground it into powder, before instructing me to take some manure and putting it into a container and peeing into it. He then asked me to buy some charcoal and grounded it too into powder. The scent of manure and urine fogged out the room.
&#x200B;
There, when all was said and done, he finally turned to look at me. "Magic." He said. "You are a magician, aren't you?"
&#x200B;
"A training magician." I replied. "I was training in water magic before I quit the Academy."
&#x200B;
"Water magic? Can you remove the water molecules from the urine then?" He pointed at the container filled with piss and manure. "Concentrate the urea in the urine."
&#x200B;
"Water molecules? What...no...water is a homogenous whole. Water is just water."
&#x200B;
The old man looked at me for a solid moment. "I forgot. You are one of them."
&#x200B;
I feel a slight sense of indignity. I have been following this old man around for three months, cleaning up his mess and navigating around his unreasonable schedules, and his first tacit acknowledgment of me was of disdain?
&#x200B;
"Come." He took out the telescope again, making delicate adjustments in the distance of the lenses, muttering strange sounding terms under his breath. *Refractive index...focal point...focal length...*
&#x200B;
The lenses are shifted into new positions, looking distinctly different from the telescope I held three months ago.
&#x200B;
"Look down." He said. "Look at this drop of water."
&#x200B;
I looked into the droplet of water. There, within the water droplet, I saw a world. A world of strange and unique creatures, unlike any I have seen before. My mana began to tingle, traces of magic responding to this new world I never seen before, something being destroyed and something being born anew. I *pushed,* and with the minuscule amount of force, I could feel myself expunging all the tiny creatures from the droplet of water.
&#x200B;
It was a variation of the simple spell, *Cleanse,* yet its effect seems to change in response to the knowledge I gained. I drop the telescope in shock, before the old man grabbed it right before it touched the ground.
&#x200B;
"Oh." That was the first time I heard amazement from him. "The magic actually cleansed all the bacteria from the water. Amazing. This may even be cleaner than filtered water. Perfect, I would not have to boil water again."
&#x200B;
The old man nodded, seemingly satisfied by something that I did with the droplet of water. I am unable to care. I am still stuck in the repercussions of what I did with the water droplet.
&#x200B;
"Now, do you understand? Water is not water. I wish I could show you further, but the equipment is too shabby for that. No matter, understand it like this. Water molecules are what create water. They are like tiny creatures, balls if you will, that all bind together to create what you know as water." The old man began to trace on the table, drawing the shape of a big ball attached to two small balls. Each of these shapes formed a group, and he begins to show how each of these groups clusters around the other.
&#x200B;
"Remove this using the same spell you use. Cast it on the urine."
&#x200B;
I tried to visualize this, those tiny shapes, and imagine them being expunged from the yellowish liquid before me. Mana coalesces once more, moving to shift the desired object out of the liquid, and, with aplomb, a goblet of clear water separated itself from an increasingly yellowish liquid.
&#x200B;
"It worked. Amazing. Saltpeter, Charcoal, Sulfur, the three key ingredients are going to be ready sooner then expected. Magic and gunpowder...I wonder what could happen...what could happen...ha...ha...hahaha..." The old man began to laugh, looking at the container of piss and shit, grounded brimstone and charcoal, seeing something I am not seeing.
&#x200B;
"Now, are you ready, my disciple?"
&#x200B;
I could feel it, shivers down my spine, the words coming out of the old man's mouth. Something changed in the old man that day. Something was breaking out of the languid facade he hid behind for far too long.
&#x200B;
&#x200B;
&#x200B;
&#x200B;
&#x200B;
&#x200B; | 2018-11-09T08:38:15 | 2018-11-09T06:15:34 | 590 | 442 |
[WP] The galaxy is actually full of life and advanced civilizations. Everyone just leaves Earth alone because that's where The Great Old Ones are imprisoned, and nobody wants to wake them up. | No one told us.
No one warned us.
Then again, it's not like we ever warned the sheep of the slaughter.
You must be confused. I'll start at the beginning.
300 years ago the human race sent out first ship into space. The world mourned when we lost contact with it a few months later. Then we tried again and again and again. Adjusting one thing, then another, sending them off in different directions. Desperate to make things work, to make THIS work.
In time we discovered what had happened: Some type of field, too advanced for us to understand, surrounded us. An impenetrable field. Nothing in, nothing out. When the world learned of this we tore ourselves apart in panic and fear and religious paranoia.
Eventually, after a hundred years of war and death, after tearing our planet apart in ways we could have never imagined before we found something. It took us another 50 years to decipher the stone tablet. 50 years to discover that we weren't alone in the universe. Out beyond the boundaries of the field were civilizations upon civilizations, wonders beyond imaginings that we were forever barred from.
Our solar system is a prison, our planet the jail and we are both jailers and sheep. Finding out the human race was created by a conglomeration of thousands of different civilizations was a shock. Learning our purpose made us angry. Learning that, even in it's deepest slumber, the thing trapped on our world infects us with darkness and madness causing us to lash out in violence with horror and pain.
In retaliation we did what we always do, we fought back. Not that it mattered, the force field let nothing in and nothing out. Our efforts less effective then banging against a metal door with our bare hands. Our creators had been thorough but they had underestimated us.
So we turned inward. If we were the prison where was our prisoner? It turns out someone had seen it before. Even after all these centuries Lovecraft still fills us with horror. We only had to find him and wake him from his sleep.
Tonight I wonder what we could have been had we not been tainted and then I remember that we never had a chance of finding out. We were condemned to this world and all lingering guilt for what I'm about to do vanishes.
They trapped us here with a monster.
Did they ever wonder what would happen if we became monsters too?
| &#x200B;
“Prepare for system entry in 3…2…1.”
Admiral Axthal braced himself against the railing of his bridge as the ship jolted rather abruptly. It always did when they entered this specific system, and it was always a good omen when that happened. He could hear the engines begin whining as the dampening field took hold on them, trying to draw out their power and render them useless. But these were Mk. 3-X units, far superior to the Mk. 1 engines that were in use eons before when the dampening field was put in place to lock the Old Ones to their planet once more. The field could draw at them, but they would survive.
“Status report.”
His voice warbled through the bridge as other Athrerians began clicking through the datasheets coming in. Most of it was the usual. The last trip to this system, 200 local cycles beforehand, had been more of the same from the Old Ones. They were killing each other, for without an external foe they gave in to their bloodlust upon their own. Horrible creatures.
“Sir…?” A small call from one of the scout units gathering information from the spysats around the planet. Axthal formed an appendage from his core to press one of the buttons before him, locking into the scout’s voice in his telecom implant. Color seemed to fade, the world outside dimming as his mind focused solely on this lowly scout. “What is it?”
“Sir, this is terrible! They’ve…they’ve gone too far!” Fear came across the telecom from the scout unit, and Axthal couldn’t control his own fear rising at the idea of the Old Ones breaking containment. But no, the dampening field held. Any form of antimatter would begin fizzling out immediately, rendering antimatter drives useless. Still, the thought of them somehow bypassing the field and making an antimatter device work existed. The Old Ones were crafty. “Soldier! Calm down and explain.”
He could sense fear still, but the telecom also had hints of resolve and….a sort of depressed acceptance. “Yes sir. The human has found a way off their planet.” Fear gripped Axthal’s heart but the scout went on. “The humans are progressing technology in a new way. Combustion. They’re using it to power weapons that launch metal projectiles at high speeds and can launch hundreds of these per standard tick. They are using liquid fuel combustion engines to escape their planet’s gravity. Furthermore, they have weaponized nuclear fusion against themselves. There are currently multiple artificial satellites in orbit about their home planet and-“
Fire blossomed outside as the scout ship was hit by something, bright enough that if his mind wasn’t reeling from the pain of the scout itself he would have noticed it even through his haze. Something fast had slammed into the scout ship. It wasn’t down, but the scout unit would need repairs. The voice in his mind returned, slow but steady now. “And they have sent several probes into the deep recesses of their system. That was one. They also have automated machines on one of their neighboring planets, and several viable plans to colonize on it.”
Axthal wiped the swear from his brow at this news before finally unlinking from that scout specifically. Color drained back into the world around him as he let out a fleet-wide call.
“All units, return to home base. It appears the Old Ones are advancing their technology in a path that before now we could not have foreseen. We must return to home base to let the leadership know our current containment methods have failed. We may need to return and try flooding them again.”
The ship began its turn back home as Axthal wondered how many times the Immortal Council would have to inflict apocalypse on this planet before the Old Ones stopped trying to break free.
\---------
“The hell happened?!”
Bob was cussing as he hit the screen. “Hey Sarah, come here!” His fellow engineer walked over, brushing the bit of dust off the NASA logo on his jacket as she looked at the static on his screen. “Looks like you lost contact with Voyager. It’ll come back.”
“No shit, but look at this!” Bob wound the feed back until a moment before the loss of signal and paused it. Sarah, suitably, dropped her coffee and brought a hand to her mouth as the image of multiple objects appeared. As he hit play, the objects began move in an obviously unnatural manner. Space ships. Aliens.
“We have to report this Bob!”
“No shit.” | 2019-03-09T07:54:01 | 2019-03-09T07:00:46 | 152 | 15 |
[WP] A few thousand people around the world suddenly get superpowers based on the character of the last game they played. Highly valued by society you are the exception as everyone laughs at your inherited powers. The thing is, you modded the hell out of your character before this all happened.
Wow I didn't think it would blow up like this. Thank you so much kind stranger for my first ever silver. Freaking my first gold ever that is so awesome. Dont forget to show the great writers of this post some love also :) | They mocked me. Laughed at me. Of course I had to be the one who played Cities:Skylines last. My superpower? The amazing ability to cut through government red tape and expedite municipal construction projects.
For the first time, parks were being built, streets were being paved, and businesses were moving in, all on time and on budget. I could even terraform to a limited degree. If I lowered the terrain in the area I would have to raise it elsewhere. I only had a limited amount of dirt I could keep suspended in my pocket universe you see.
I had complete dictatorial control of the city. Taxes went up and down as I wished. I raised taxes temporarily to generate huge influxes of cash so often I lost count, and I had no elections to fear.
But the others laughed. "Have fun with your budgets!" They'd say, sneering. But little did they know I'd have the last laugh. A lot of them still drove. Their characters weren't superheroes, not most of them. Imagine their surprise when I showed up to their city and started redirecting lanes. The look on solid snake's face when I directed his turn lane to the far lane on the highway so everybody had to cut across three lanes. He sat there, inching his way forward, starting listfully at the clear, open lane he found himself utterly unable to use. It was like the car was on a set of tracks.
I did it to them all. They wouldn't have laughed at me had they known I had installed the traffic manager mod. | "You cant even fight what even is your power?" - Sven, an old friend now chairman of the hunter superorganisation and Doom slayer incarnation
Johnsons corpse was still fresh I couldnt keep my eyes away from it.
Just as I turned around the demon lunged at me and tore of my arm "Im gonna die here, im gonna die for re-"
Everything was black... just black
" **Is it possible?...** "
" **there you are** "
24 hours before my death
-6 am in the CHA-
"Alright hunters, as you already know a major hell outbreak happend in 016.49"
"7 teams will head out to bring 016- back to the family friendly place it was, its a C rated outbreak so that means all C ranked hunters to the west gate!"
I hope someone will chose me, a leader maybe even a potential friend, I never was a good hunter I dont remember the game I played just that I woke up with no powers but exquisite weapon handling.
Well weapons against demons never really did much but C rank demons can be killed by silver bullets easily, making me number 12 of the C Rank
.
Johnson, incarnation of the major hero tracer, who could move as fast as time came up to me "hey newbie, I heard from you kill of the B rank monster last week, wanna join my team"
It wasnt the best team to join but sure a fun one, maybe I could permanently join them. Lets see.
8 hours before my death
It seems that the outbreak spread into 017 and 015 the whole B rank got involved too
4 hours before my death
We lost franklynn she died to a krow, a scary fusion of demon and crow ripping people apart in supersonic speed rank A.
The situation is worse than we thought, much worse. It seems that the level keep increasing the HO has send an S rank to close the gate early, we havent heard of him yet. Appearently even an SS rank is on its way.
1 hour.
A giant firestorm has broken out, entire team A and B has been wiped out, a lot of C ranks have managed to get away, our team is too far we cant go back now.
0
I felt the demons teeth ripping of my arm, i felt them inside of me, i felt everything at once.
At least everything is over now.
" ***is it possible?*** "
Was that... a voice? Was that god? What was that?
" ***there you are*** "
Color flooded my sight, it seemed that the firestorm was over snow. Snow everywhere and a little floating device infront of me
" ***guardian... guardian? Eyes up guardian!*** "
How can i be alive?
" ***im a Ghost. Actually i'm your Ghost. And you... well you've been dead a long time.*** "
How long?
" ***in your time? About 12 years*** "
What are you?
" ***as i just told you, im a Ghost the traveler, sort of the machine that created me has send me, appearently even into another universe, its just me and you.*** "
It seemd that the demon gate has took over the whole 0. District and the demons are fighting against S ranks on the front since 12 years ive been dead I wonder how far we have come
A weird looking stray demon appeared, we both scared to death, well again for me actually
" ***reach inside of you, deep down you will see a light, grasp it, use it*** "
My revolver, still in my hand exploded in fire, remodelled it burned as bright as the sun, not hurting me but making me feel powerfull, powerfull eneough to take on the world | 2019-08-12T00:11:35 | 2019-08-12T00:09:11 | 40 | 14 |
[WP] As a dad, you obviously have a mug that claims you're the "#1 World's Best Dad". One day, you find on the news that all "Best Dad Mugs" now have actual ratings, the media is crazy about it, a photo shows a mug with #5,826,827 World's Best Dad on it, curious, you check yours. It still says #1. | My son Max and I were watching Paw Patrol (his favorite show) and eating bacon (our favorite food) when a "special news announcement" came up on the screen. I couldn't believe it, people were being ranked and rated based on their best dad mugs... It wasn't long after that I got struck with a memory...
My dad was sick a few years ago. When the illness hit, I knew it wasn't going to be long till he moved on. Just before the last time I saw him I stopped at the gift shop in the hospital and saw "Best Dad" on a mug. I figured it would cheer him up so I bought it for him. Unfortunately, when I arrived at his room he had just passed away. I didn't have a chance to give him the mug.
When that memory struck me, I remembered I kept the mug in my dresser. I didn't think of it often but I knew I still had it. I figured I would check it out and see what the fuss was about.
I looked in my dresser and found the mug. At first it didn't have any ranking on it, but I slowly saw something start to form on it. It was blurry, but as it came into focus I saw "#1 Best Dad"
I was confused... "I don't get it" I said to myself. That was when Max came into my room, wagging his tail with his mouth open wide, looking up at me with his brown eyes and his floppy ears with bacon grease in his fur.
To him, I was the best dad ever. | I blink a few times using the remote, I've connected Velcro to keep it from becoming lost, to turn off the news.
I exclaim with an audible huff, "Huh..." I get up from the couch having seen my two rugrats off to school, the same two runts who had given me my least favorite mug, said 'Number two Dad' with a picture of man taking a shit. They said it reminded them of me, since so often I would be on the toilet for an extended amount of time. Usually to browse my favorite websites and get away from them. I approach the cupboard opening it, looking for the mug which I buried a few rows back, as I lift it up.... It says 'Number one Dad' the picture is also changed to one of a man sitting on the toilet playing on his phone.
"What the genuine actual fuck?" I immediately drop the mug, it shatters on the counter but the numbers and the image remain standing upright almost taunting me.
"How is this possible? There is no way I should be number one. I'm a horrible awful person and the way I treat my children....is less than ideal for number one. It has to be a mistake..." I say to no one that is around. Maybe I'll give a couple of my dad buddies a call to make sure this isn't a hoax....however why would mine have changed? It has to be a fluke.
I give Heath a call, "Yo Heath, you hear the news about the mug shit?"
Heath responds with a hearty laugh, his laugh always put a smile on my face since it was so deep, almost like how you'd imagine a dwarf would laugh, "Yeah man, I got a few mugs like that, kids can't figure out for the life of them what to get me for birthdays or father's days. They all say the same thing, 'Number 230,654,298 Dad'. I didn't think I was that bad but maybe the figure adjust as you grow as a father. Why? What'd you get?"
I pull the receiver away from my ear a bit.... "Ha...haha.... Yeah you're not gonna believe this, but I am.... The number one Dad."
The line goes silent, he had to have hung up on me, I mean who would make a joke like that... Well besides a Dad of course. Two minutes go by, three....
"What?" Heath finally responds.
"Yeah, I know right? Me? Of all people, who loses his shit at traffic of all things, who swears like a sailor, and who.... can't hold back his anger from his family." I mostly sound disappointed in myself.
"Dude, that is....amazing but I wonder...how the mugs know." He has always been the one who asks the right questions.
"Yeah, it's a miracle of some kind.... It's gotta be right? Well I gotta head off to get some business done. See ya later man, hope you get higher up. Or lower, whatever makes sense.... right?" I chuckle as he says his good byes, kind of sullen with his outrageous number.
After I'm done with my daily chores my kids come home, "Daddy! Daddy! Daddy!"
I greet them with a smile, but there is sorrow behind it. Maybe the mugs can tell the future, maybe they know how my kids will turn out before I do. All I know is I can keep being myself and certainly they will turn out better than I could have ever hoped.
•••••••••••••••••••••
I loved this prompt. Glad for any criticism from strangers on the internet. | 2019-10-02T22:09:48 | 2019-10-02T18:17:22 | 765 | 58 |
[WP] Humans have always been the friendliest and the most peaceful species in the galaxy. When one of the most ruthless empires decides to wipe out the pathetic humans and their diplomacy, they discover that humans have something that no one in the galaxy has ever seen. Nuclear weapons. | The species known as Humans came from a distant star, deep within the swirling vortex all other races had avoided. They brought with them many wondrous advancements including advanced healing never before seen within the known galaxy. Though they were diverse, they had no want for war and would help any in need without hesitation as they spread across the stars.
Exploration was the forefront of their minds and had never declared war on anyone. They even created safe havens throughout the galaxy. Freeports, they called them, where anyone was allowed to rest for a spell regardless of their background, profession or allegiance. A no fire zone so to speak. Many species across the galaxy enjoyed their friendly demeanor but also viewed them as mostly harmless. Mostly harmless that is, until the incident of Tau-423.
The Vikonican's were an empire devoted to warring among the stars. They mostly kept their battles between themselves as they fight for glory and power. Every so often though, a particularly good general will win and unit the Vikonicans to focus on other species. One fateful day, Emperor Bragisson united his people and led an attack that completely destroyed one of the freeports.
The Vikonican's then declared war against the humans and began raiding, and destroying, several more freeports over the course of a few months. Every species offered the humans help but they politely declined saying, as quoted, "We got this"
The Tau-423 incident was news that shook the entire galaxy. The humans sent a fleet to the satellite that General Bragisson was commanding from and, in a single day, ended the war.
The humans distracted the Vikonican's with their fleet while sending over a hundred cloaked bombers into the atmosphere. The cloaking alone took us all by surprise as that was technology many had struggled to create. Even so, the cloaking was mostly glossed over in the aftermath of the bombs.
The human's didn't just retaliate, they destroyed the very planet. The atmosphere was blasted away and anything on the plant that wasn't incinerated on impact withered away. For years after, any probe sent to the remains of the planet would malfunction within minutes. Only in recent years have probes exploring the barren surface could send back data. The very planet itself was radiated and dead to the core. Nothing of this magnitude had ever been seen across the galaxy.
The Humans, it seemed, were more powerful, and more terrifying, than anyone could have ever guessed. We can only hope that they continue to keep their friendly demeanor. | Vyxis Varix, Emperor of the Ruson Goar and Lord Commander of the Royal fleet closed his eyes and enjoyed a long drag from the cigarette between his fingers, the end glowing bright orange. One of the finer gifts the Humans had introduced to the galaxy. It is a shame that this might be the last time he would indulge in such simple pleasures. Through the gray smoke that billowed from his mouth, he saw the gleaming black throne room doors spiral open and his son, Jos, step through.
“Father,” his son said as he strutted his way down the long, onyx hall towards him. His footsteps echoed confidently in the otherwise silent chamber. When he reached the base of the throne, he kneeled and averted his eyes in respect. “It is good to be home and at your side once again.”
“Indeed,” Vyxis said with another puff of smoke. “I am pleased that you have returned to me, whole of body. Rise.” His son did so, beaming with pride. With cigarette in hand, Vyxis stood, reached out, pressed the burning end into his sons forehead.
Jos screamed in shock and recoiled, falling backwards onto his rear end. “What did you do that for!” He shrieked.
Vyxis took another drag, squatted beside his son and blew the smoke out in his sons face, who turned his head to avoid it. He did not recoil further, however. He knew better than that.
“I received grave communications today from General Brax,” Vyxis said as he stood and slowly removed the jacket of his empirical regalia. “Communications about you that have filled me with great disappointment and sorrow.” He folded his uniform neatly and placed it on the seat of his throne. He signaled for his guards to seize and hoist his son up off the ground. “You fucked up.”
He drove his fist hard into his sons stomach and the boy crumpled, the only thing keeping him on his feet being the guards.
“What did I do? Was is the Atrin? It was just some backwater planet.”
“Not that,” Vyxis said, punctuating it with another blow to the stomach.
“What?” Jos said, sputtering. “The cruiser? So what? We do it all the time.”
Vyxis shook his head. “It’s not what you did, son that angers me so. It’s who you did it to.”
Jos’ eyes searched for the answer. “Who? Those fucking weaklings?”
“Those fucking weaklings... are humans. We had a skirmish with them, long ago. They call them Babu Frin.”
Jos wrinkled his brow. “Babu Frin? The demon you used to scare me with as a child?
Vyxis nodded. “Well, the humans weren’t exactly Babu Frin. They are the ones who you call to kill fucking Babu Frin.”
Jos staggered. “Oh.”
Vyxis continued. “The humans are a species of focus, commitment and sheer fucking will... something you know very little about. I once saw them obliterate, three fucking fleets with a one ship, one fucking ship armed with one fucking weapon. Then suddenly one day they asked for peace. At the time I thought we had the upper hand, so I made a deal with them. I gave them an impossible task. A task no one could have pulled off. The species they buried for us those years laid the foundation of what we are now. And then my son, a few days after their beloved leader died, you invade and take their fucking dogs. And for what? For an exotic meal?
Jos steeled himself. “Father, I can make this right.”
Vyxis smiled a sympathetic smile. “Oh? How do you plan that?”
“By finishing what I started.”
Vyxis grabbed his son by the scruff of the neck and pulled him close to whisper harshly in his ear. “Did you not hear a fuckin' word I said?”
Vyxis’s eyes welled up. “Jos. Jos,” he said, trying his best to avoid choking up. “Listen! Huh? The humans will come for you, and you will do nothing because you can do nothing.” He steeled himself for what was to come. This was his son. But the war he just started would be the end of him. Vyxis himself could probably make a deal but the humans would not stop until they had Jos’ head on a spike. He hung his head and let his tears fall to the cold, black floor. “Get the fuck out of my sight.” | 2020-02-07T13:28:43 | 2020-02-07T13:27:54 | 151 | 41 |
[WP] During a global catastrophe, a company offers to cryogenically freeze people so that they can “skip” unpleasant circumstances. Clients can stipulate specific global conditions that must be met before they are unfrozen. You awake to find that all of your conditions are satisfied. | I signed the form, authorizing CryoLabs^(TM) as the executor of my Freeze Will: they'll oversee my finances, properties, (non-existent) family, and other affairs until I wake, and monitor worldly conditions to wake me according to my wishes. A month ago, I invested all of my savings, a whole 17,893.12 USD into a single stock: SkyFire, a space startup that planned to launch telecomm satellites connecting earth to various mining outposts throughout the solar system. Soon, my shares were worth only a measly 2000 USD, and in despair, I donated myself to CryoLabs^(TM) for a study on long-term cryorefrigeration. They told me to pick an exit condition, something farfetched or very long term, so as a joke, I told them to "wake this broke loser when I'm a quintillionaire". I stood bravely in a circular chamber with my arms crossed in homage to Han Solo, as I awaited the frosty breath of eternity. With a hiss, it began. I closed my eyes and settle in.
For a second, it seemed like nothing happened. I opened my eyes, and squinted at the apparent change in the color of the wall. Was color shifting a side effect of going under? Then a person in scrubs opened the door, and casually motioned for me to follow them.
"Welcome back, Sir! You're exit conditions are classified, but the computer indicates they have been met, and just in time for the celebration of the millenium!"
I stared, confused. "Ah yes, yes, the details," The orderly, noticing my confusion pulled out a pad and began listing some facts "The year is 2999 A.C. according to the calendar of your era. It says here you've been under..." the orderly paused, a little baffled "967 years..." Still processing the redecorating of the cryochamber, the fantastic number slid past my consciousness like a pleasant cup of tea. Then, like a record scratch on an ironic television show, it hit me. I was a thousand years in the future. The ground tilted and my vision faded.
When I came to, I was again greeted by an unremarkable nurse-like figure, who barraged me with information, as though that had been effective the first time. "We've updated all of your vaccines and identity information, and we've implanted your complementary NeuroNet Modem. Kinda funny, most people just need a modem update, but you didn't even have the base hardware!" He shook his head "Geezer!"
"What?" I said. I blinked and a heads up display appeared in my vision, or maybe in my head? It was hard to tell. I read through the metrics slowly, tuning out the nurse who was still chatting me up.
Name: Kyle Watkins
Health: minor depression alert
Current Planet: Terra Prime
Net Worth:
\- 7 $ USD in the American Space Federation Bank
\- 4000 $ USD in antique but mint-condition clothing
\- 1,000,000,000,000,000,000$ USD in StarFire/NeuroNet Inc. (Previously SkyFire Ltd.) | "Welcome back Client [NULL]. You are in the restoration paradigm of U-Top Corporal Services. Your reinstatement criteria of [NULL] have been met. Thank you for choosing U-Top." A pleasant voice didn't sound in my ears. I heard the words clearly, but it wasn't with my ears.
The pleasant voice stopped. I felt a... well, I'm not sure what I felt. I wasn't really aware of any physical sensations, and I was strangely disturbed by the fact that I wasn't disturbed by that. I knew that I had a body, or knew that I should, but nothing was reporting back.
I ventured a word. As I willed myself to speak, I could very clearly not feel the impulses moving through the nerves of my jaw and tongue, I could explicitly sense the absolute lack of air in my lungs and indeed lungs at all.
"Uh... hi? Can you tell me who I am?"
"Generating Identity Tutorial. Loaded. It is common for reinstated entities to experience a period of disorientation during the initial phases of restoration. You are a client of U-Top Corporal Services, designated [NULL]. You were disinstantiated on [NULL] by the order of the Planetary Future Existence Hegemony. Your Corporal Care Package Preferences were automatically assigned based on your existing parameters at time of disinstantiation. Reinstatement criteria were assigned by the Planetary Future Existence Hegemony in batches according to planned reinstatement date criteria. You will be pleased to know that your reinstatement date of [NULL] has now been reached, and Priority zero and Priority one reinstatement criteria in the local environment have been met. Please proceed to the reorientation paradigm."
The pleasant voice didn't sound out again. The words made it into my brain anyway. At least I assumed it was my brain. I'm not sure what exactly I was using to think at the moment, but as I was hearing without ears and speaking without lungs or a mouth, I was starting to notice a pattern.
"The reorientation paradigm?" Again I felt that bizarre not-feeling of speaking.
"Initiating Quickstart tutorial. Please wait while your custom tutorial is generated. Loaded. The U-Top Corporal Services corporation is proud to welcome you back to existence, Client [NULL]. You have been preserved in cryogenic stasis according to your wishes, being restored to function only when the specific criteria in your Corporal Care Package are met. Priority zero criterion: [NULL]. Priority one criterion: [NULL].
As these criteria have been locally and globally achieved within the parameters outlined in your U-Top Corporal Services contract, you have now been reinstated as an entity. Your physical parameters have been recreated according to your Corporal Care Package. There are [NULL] points remaining in your Corporal Care Balance. Proceed to Reorientation?"
The pleasant voice didn't seem to notice the errors.
"How do I move? I can't see!" I knew that I would absolutely be starting to feel panic right now, if I were capable of feeling anything at all. The sensation of no sensation was starting to be very upsetting. And the sensation of panic without anything else was even more so.
"Generating Motility Tutorial. Loaded. Your current physical parameters of [NULL] provide you with local motility of [NULL]. This may be unfamiliar if you have not previously deviated from human baseline parameters.
Generating Sensorium Tutorial. Loaded. Your current physical parameters of [NULL] provide you with sensory acuity of [NULL]. Your current physical parameters of [NULL] provide you with extrasensory acuity of [NULL]. System messages directed to console."
Was that how I was 'hearing' Pleasant Voice? In my console? I am fairly certain I didn't have a console before. But I wasn't sure.
"Local environment? Where am I?"
"Generating localization tutorial. Loaded. You are located in PFEH Outpost [NULL]. Exterior environmental, economic, social, and physical parameters meet recorded reinstatement criteria to within acceptable tolerances."
"Can you show me the outside?"
"Generating Sensorium Console Interface. Loaded. Error. Cannot comply. Exterior visual and sensorium feeds already patched to console."
Have you ever leaned back in a chair? Just idly relaxing, tipped back with your feet up? Enjoying that moment of perfect balance as you rock back and forth just across the point of equalized gravity, pushing a tiny bit with your muscles and feeling your entire self poised as an operand in a vast mathematical equation with the entire planet as your dancing partner? And then you do like we always do and take it a fraction of an angle too far. One extra muscle cell. One tiny arcsecond of tilt. And before you can react you're falling. All the floodgates of adrenaline fly open and your biology leaps into action to save you. All reactions crank up to a thousand, and you're suddenly ready to fight a dinosaur or wrestle a wolf to death. But your body is smarter than you are, your hand whips out on reflex, and you catch yourself. Your emergency reactions polished over a billion years worth of ancestors fight-or-flight saves swirl uselessly around inside you frustrated and exhausting.
OK, so take that feeling but remove the chair, the body, the reflex, the save, the gravity, and the dinosaur.
That's how I felt right now. I blacked out. | 2020-04-14T05:00:31 | 2020-04-14T04:57:06 | 85 | 44 |
[WP] On the run from mercenaries, a young girl stumbles into an old Greek temple and in a last ditch effort to save herself, begs for help from whichever god or goddess it belongs to. She didn't expect them to show up in person. | She ran like she’d never run before. The idle, panicky thought that she’d broken all her old track records flirted through her mind as she dashed through the broken, rock-strewn terrain. The beauty of the West Virginia mountains was lost on her as she heard the men closing in as her stamina flagged.
Bursting into a clearing, she gasped, peering around for somewhere to hide, but all that remained of some long-abandoned farmstead was a ruined stone forge, a few bits of scattered metal thrusting from its darkened maw.
She cursed herself, all her years of study, engineering, mathematics and science useless compared to brutes with guns. Leaning against the stonework of the forge, she muttered an almost unbidden prayer to nobody in particular. If she got out of this she’d never waste her skills again, she’d make the world a better place, invent something to help mankind if only she lived long enough to do so.
She heard the distant crackle of a radio as they closed in, and an odd calm came over her, accompanied, oddly, by the fleeting memory of her ancient history coursework, of Hephaestus, god of the forge. God of all forges, came an unbidden thought, as he eyes flicked to the bits of metal almost at her fingertips.
The first of the men, dressed in the Walmart-bought camouflage, never saw the trap until the sharp snap sent a foot long metal rod into his throat. His weak gargling did nothing to warn his companion, a few yards away.
The second, the bright red and blue insignia on his cap the only relief from the Realtree of his garb saw her a moment before she slammed the stone against his face, his shotgun firing into the woods with deafening volume, hitting nothing as he fell to all fours, dazed. She raised the rock, and brought it down again.
The third man dashed for his companions, calling for them into the radio. He emerged into the clearing, and raised his gun towards the girl. “Just put it down now.” He instructed, seeing his companion’s shotgun in her hand, pointed his way. “A fancy college girl like you ain’t got no business with something like that.” Adrenaline surged through him as he realized her hands were covered in blood, and the MIT sweatshirt she wore was speckled with red dots that hadn’t been there before. “Dan? Pat? Answer me.”
No reply came, and he glared at her. “The fuck did you do, bitch? All we wanted was a little fun! Jeezus!”
She stared at him, her eyes cold and her breathing quick and shallow. “-This- isn’t fun for you?” She hissed out, hoping she sounded less breathless and panicky than she was.
“You crazy bitch!” He squeezed the trigger. -Click-. Nothing. The shell was a dud.
She squeezed her trigger. The sound deafened her further, and as the man crumpled to the ground, she fell to all fours, whispering silent thanks to a god she wasn’t sure existed.
-20 years later-
“And now we go to Kate Mallory in Houston.”
“Thank you Dave, behind me you can see the Hephaestus probe, designed to conduct the first large scale mineral surveys of Mars in preparation for human colonization, and I’m here with its lead designer Jeanette Willson.”
“Thank you Kate, if you could speak up a bit, I’m a bit deaf.” | Okay so I'm no Saint, let's establish that right now. I kill whomever my bosses point at, and I ask no questions. Sure, they may be fathers, mothers, or even young adults who just started their lives but, i usually comfort myself by saying, "Well they had mercenaries after them, how innocent could they be?"
I'm a mercenary by the way, did I mention that?
Anyways the main thing I'm trying to get across here is 1. I'm a mercenary for hire, and 2. I kill adults and tell myself that they probably deserved it. But the key word here is "adults," I don't think I ever shot someone younger than 25. At least no one who looked younger than that.
But everything changed when I got sent to kill some cult in Greece. Now, this assignment was a lot easier for me to mentally prepare for not only because I could imagine my targets as Scientologists, and it was in Greece so afterwards I could take pictures for my mom.
So after I arrived I met up with the other guys, loaded up in an abandoned house, got ice cream, and we were off to slaughter an entire cult.
The eldest of our little killing party, Drew, who had fought in The Gulf War, said that we should wait until nightfall, not only for the tactical advantages of being hard to see and everyone being asleep, but also because an episode of the Bachelor was on and he wanted to see the new episode. Lucky for him, so did all of us.
So we ranted about our favorite girls and then went to scope out the area with the cult. It was a lot smaller than I expected, four cabins, a couple of decorative fences with flowers, and all of it out in an open grass field for them to frolic and...I don't know fuck each other's wives? I don't know what cults do to be honest.
Anyways, we all made our way ever so quietly to the cabins, went inside, pulled out our knives, and painted the walls red with their blood. It was simple, easy, and gave me enough time to get a picture of the beautiful view of the nearby lake for my mom.
There was just one thing bugging me though, we were getting paid $25,000, each, for this? I mean, I understand killing people comes with a big price but even one of us could have gotten this job done. None of them fought back even when they awoke to us stabbing their fellow members.
At least that's what I said awoke them when I explained it to the other guys. No way I was letting them find out my headphones unplugged and my 90's playlist blew my cover.
After I contemplated this and put on Barbie Girl, ready for the ride home, until we heard a scream from a little girl running out of one of the cabins.
"What the- who the hell forgot one?!?!?" Drew yelled at everyone.
No one wanted to take responsibility and we couldn't figure it out so we just blamed Kevin because Kevin got pistachio ice cream. Fuck Kevin.
We ran after this little girl through the woods, doing everything we could to convince her to slow down. When we realized the only thing our bullets were hitting were trees and Kevin, Cameron and Dean tried to convince the little girl it was all a game.
"Little girl don't worry! We're just playing house!"
"What? What the fuck does stabbing have to do with house?"
"Well at least I'm trying Dean!"
"Fuck you Cam! You're the reason this marriage is falling apart!"
"What the hell are you talking about?"
"Damn it Cam, we almost had her believing this was a game of house and now you blew it!"
Yeah communication isn't our strong suit. Neither is catching little girls apparently because she ran into this ruined temple that couldn't have been bigger than the average American cul-de-sac. The only impressive thing about it was that it was wedged into the side of a hill, meaning the little girl ran into a dead end as we charged up behind her with our rifles raised.
It was at this point I lowered my weapon and looked at my companions, "Guys, I think killing a child is messed up," I said with genuine remorse for making this little girl run so far.
"The contract said we had to kill everyone! I'll do it if you don't! I have to pay off my kids college debt!" Drew yelled at me.
"Hey, me too!" Dean said happy to have someone who shared his pain.
"Same." Cameron said sounding dead inside.
"Damn you guys as well?" I asked thinking about the massive amount of debt I put myself in just to stay with my now ex girlfriend.
"Actually I'm looking to open a sports bar!" Kevin said gripping his bleeding leg.
"Fuck you Kevin." We said unanimously.
So, I know this sounds like it's out of nowhere, but then the Greek God Pan just appeared behind the little girl. I don't even know how it happened, we were also busy with our hatred of Kevin, I guess we never noticed the little girl praying for her life. Unfortunately the one who answered was the half goat jackass of nature.
That didn't prevent him from beating my companions to death however.
Now you may be wondering, how did I survive? Well it's simple, Pan may have been a god but the goat half of him was still weak to bullets.
I had done the impossible. I, a mere mortal had killed a god and stood with no wounds whatsoever. What was the next thing I did you may ask? I took a picture for my mother and sent it to her with the caption,
"My new daughter and I just killed Mr. Tumnus!" | 2020-06-15T23:06:00 | 2020-06-15T22:03:59 | 24 | 11 |
[WP] An alien super-intelligence routinely teleports a random creature from every inhabited planet's most dangerous species into a massive battle royale. Humans are known as a weak species with strange but useless textiles and objects. This year, a battle-ready soldier is chosen. | Humans. Normally a subject of derision, weak and infirm. But this thing was not really like those that had been taken before. Xallahieinxix looked at it in the cell it occupied ready for the Battle Royale.
It was taller than previous specimens and bulkier, clad in some kind of advanced armour. A dozen small drones buzzed around him periodically and played small sensors over its surroundings.
Worse, the weapon it carried was strange, long and hollow connected by a cable to its back. “I can see you you know?” The translation software revealed and Xalla startled, the cages mirror surface should have concealed him.
Oh. The device on his eyes was also a sophisticated sensor. He hadn’t even thought to check for thermal detection as it wasn’t an ability that the species had shown before.
But he had been taken, the rules were quite clear.
The cage opened into the grand arena, and fields pushed the warrior out. Then the dying began in earnest the weak being weeded out... at first, Xalla noticed with a significant shock that the human was casually butchering anything that came close to it with a rapid fire mass driver, but curiously it was also firing to protect a young feline creature.
The feline noticed and ran over on all fours bounding to... cower under the humans feet, the crowd went nuts. Soon enough it was just the human and the feline.
‘Only one may exit’
The voice boomed.
“Fuck you.” The human began firing on the shield projectors that kept the participants in the arena.
With a flash of light they were both teleported out in a rush decision they were both sent to the humans homeworld.
Xalla checked his commlink as he received a message. ‘Xalla, no more humans.’ | I saw a flash of light, and an instant, my whole squad was gone.. I left iraq behind, for somewhere... Artificial... My environment has the look of a high resolution fortnite level.. it was definitely artificial. , Built with care. Bladed weapons were hovering above ground. Slowly rotating, ammo , med kits. Every thing I was used to.
Moments before I was about to go on 6 minute mission . I had an assault pack,. An m249 machine gun and a few thousand rounds of ammo.. I touched the disposable rocket launcher on my back. It gave me comfort.
I did a quick mental inventory of my supplies
1. Tactical tomahawk on the chest
2. 9 he fragmentation grenades
3. 1. saw 249 with 3000 rounds..
4. 1 911 pistol with two extra clips.
5.1.tube launched wore guided anti tank missile.
5. A boot knife k bar
6. Bullet proof vest with side protectors
7 1 standard issue helmet
8. Small med kit with a few tubes of super glue
8. No water, no rations .
As the light faded my.eyes readjusted , I saw strange creatures in the distance. Tiny red cross hairs framed thier bodies.. one began to run towards me with a battle axe in hand. He must have been 7 feet tall a giant orcish looking creature. At 150 yards away , I took the time to aim. A single shot and his exploded in a pink mist.
I saw more players, and I dropped then one by one.. I seemed to be the only person here with a fire arm...12 down...how many to go...
THwACk! I was l knocked down. A javalin lay at my feet. It came out of nowhere, I glad I brought the rifle plate today.
I need to make it to high ground. There is a cottage a few hundred yards away. I ran for it.
The players jeep on coming. I struggle to conserve my ammo, resist the urge to open up.. fight way to the roof of the cottage.
The floating numbers above my head procliam 31 kills. There is a silence on the battlefield, and I hear a load war cry. Dozens of voices. They are rushing up all sides. I let my saw do what it's made to do... I spin around in circles firing at the hoarde attacking from every direction .. the numbers above my head climb higher and higher. The last one falls and they stop at 98
One more...then I see him. He is the size of a semi trucks, barellimg towards me on with his knuckles on the ground running like a gorilla. Huge , yet almost see through, some sort of cloaking mechanism. I use my rocket launcher and hit hom square in the face with a missle. The blood splatter hit me from. 50 yards away, and my counter changes as his body falls over, shaking the earth as it does so.
Suddenly the light come on...a voice from. The heavens coming out of nowhere, yet also everywhere. Congratulations on passing stage 1 the arena and the interview process at dundee mifflin.
Dwight schrute, please report to the parking lot promptly at 9 am for stage 2. "The office
I am more than a little confused. I take off my now useless saw. Pick up a couple of cans of beets from the cottage kitchen. I walk down the hill and find a red firebird with the keys in it. As I sit down a piece of paper materlizes out of thin air. It reads. This is dwight from the future, beware of Jim | 2020-09-13T16:47:27 | 2020-09-13T16:14:49 | 3,862 | 81 |
[WP] An alien super-intelligence routinely teleports a random creature from every inhabited planet's most dangerous species into a massive battle royale. Humans are known as a weak species with strange but useless textiles and objects. This year, a battle-ready soldier is chosen. | The battles have dealt with weaponry before, and consider them fair game. In fact, last battle's champion wielded a very handsome and sophisticated spear that one would use to hunt.
But this human's equipment was vastly different. The usual textiles that the species adorns themselves with were replaced with interlocking ferrous rings, tough animal skin, and shimmering metallic plating. Not only that, but where previous humans would wield crude tools or limbs of vegetation, this human had a length of metal, about the length of one of its upper limb, and a disc of metal on its left limb.
And the *efficiency* this human displayed, using its length of metal with a deadly grace. The metallic garb it wore caused other foes' attacks to merely annoy and distract, never cause damage. Visually its one weakness was grapples, but a hidden length of metal no larger than its lower sub-llimb spilled the lifeblood of any that dared try.
The human wound up winning the whole battle, obviously. The host species have never seen such brutality in melee combat in history, and the fact that the human had no lasting injuries was cause for gossip long after it had been sent home with its reward. The battle would honour humans from then on, praising those wearing the metallic garb as champions before the battle even began.
*- Excerpt from History of The Battle, chapter 12 of volume 2 'Underdogs of The Battle* | Oh god. I have no internet so let’s try writing this from my phone. Sorry in advance for typos and punctuation. Already hard enough on the phone but I also got fat thumbs! Best I can get with a quick and dirty write up on the bus!
“Are the contestants ready?”
“Of course Game Master Zerg. Right on time. We have a line up from several different galaxys.”
“And a human?”
“Good! Proceed post haste! You can’t find entertainment like this else where and the people are waiting!”
The arena looked like a scrunched up map. Forests sat next to deserts, desserts next to snowy plains and ice topped mountains and so on. It was the Game Masters goal to encapsulate as many environments as he could, to allow all the fighters a place to move naturally.
Zeg focused his screen on a human who stood on a grassy hillock, flanked by a river, and speckled with trees. The humans always died first, but they could get pretty creative while attempting to live. They where like a firework, short lived but spectacular.
This one was a bit odd though. It was covered from head to toe in green armor, a large Warhammer in his grasp. It mattered not though, an Xixliv was stalking the human. This 6 lumber creature where apex predators as well as being fully sapient. A mix of instinct and critical thought.
Zeg sighed, the human this year probably wouldn’t be very entertaining. He watched the Xixliv pounce.
The human however was ready, they wheeled around shouting “FOR THE GLORY OF DUNDEE!” While swing his might hammer. It collided with the Xixliv with a sickening crunch. The hammer flashed, thunder struck and half of the beats body was atomized. What was left of its mangled carcass flew through the air before hitting the ground in an unceremonious heap.
Zeg sat stunned. He watched the human raise his hammer to the sky. “Zagothrax! What kind of joke is this! Come and fight me you damnable wizard!”
Zeg was mid throught caught between wondering who or what a Zagothrax was, and how the human managed to beat a Xixliv in one hit? His pondering was interrupted as the entire structure of the planet sized ship, the contained the arena, shook. Alarms blazed.
Zeg flicked several switches and demanded a status report.
“W-w...Idono sir. We are under attack...but this...this can’t be possible.”
“Out with it you bumbling oaf!”
“ We are being attacked by just one person...bio scans indicate that it’s heart is...a Neutron Star. It’s currently making its way to the arena.”
“A Neutron Star? This isn’t the time for jokes. Get security down to the arena doors. I will meet this invader myself!”
Before Zeg had the chance to stand, he watched the walls of the arena blow open from his observation room. The smoke and debris settled revealing what looks to be a muscled, finely toned man, garbed in furs of various beasts, caring nothing more than a battle axe.
“Angus! What are you doing here? We have no time for games!” The man shouted.
“Hootsman! Thank goodness! I believe this to be a trap set by the wizard.”
“ Its nothing of the sort! Quickly with me! We must return to space! The chaos wizards move on Cowdenbeath!”
The two figures quickly fled through the hole in the arena. Leaving Zeg stunned and sputtering commands into his microphone. | 2020-09-13T19:32:46 | 2020-09-13T18:50:43 | 32 | 23 |
[WP] Yesterday I wrote the number 69 on my wrist as a joke. Today it's 68, and now it's not washing off. | I sat in the bar, staring at my hand, the cosmic joke that was being played on me. My target sat next to me, drinking heavily. I didn’t like taking advantage of someone left vulnerable by his circumstances. But I was sure I would be able to save everyone when it came down to it.
I continued to work on him, subtly leading him to the path I wanted him to go down.
It was all horrible. But I liked to live.
The number on my hand read 2.
******
It was a silly joke. I got at least five “Nice” comments. Which was exactly what I was going for. Till the next day when the number said 68.
I tried everything. But the number stayed. And the number kept counting down.
I was scared out of my mind. It was like a guillotine hanging over me, coming ever closer. What would happen when it hit 0?
I quit my job, forgot everything else. I’d just sit at home staring at the number. It had taken over my life. I discovered it changed at exactly midnight.
That was what convinced me. It was counting down days. I was going to die in 50 days.
The next 20 days I spent in a drunken haze, trying to drink all my sorrows away. I didn’t have any family. All my friends who tried to help me, I pushed away. They couldn’t help me. Nobody could.
And so it continued.
When the number was down to 19, it happened. I was walking down to the store when I heard a crash. An accident. I saw a woman and a little kid stuck in the twisted metal trying to escape somehow.
I had nothing to lose.
I went in, pulling them away at the last moment.
That midnight the number went to 21.
I had a ray of hope.
The next day I sat in my car, listening to the police scanner.
Our city is a cesspool of crime and sin. There was always something going on. My first two tries failed. The cops got there before me. It was on the third that I succeeded.
Someone was robbing a small liquor store. I was close.
I saw the perp, no older than 20, with his gun pointed at the cashier. I ran, full speed, tackling the suspect. The gun went off, but luckily nowhere close to his target.
The cops clapped me on the back, appreciating what I had done. That night, the number climbed to 22.
For the next couple of days, there was nothing. The next night there was a bank robbery attempt. I broke free from the police line and ran into the bank.
I took the robber by surprise but he still got a few shots off.
The cops managed to subdue him. But they also arrested me for interfering in their work and endangering lives.
Oh, and the robber managed to kill 3 people before swat took him down.
That night as I sat in holding, the number went down to 17.
By the time I made bail, the number was down to 4 and I was getting desperate.
And so I did what I should’ve done the first time. I put on a mask.
I went around the city, trying to, and helping people.
It worked for a while too. Over the next week I was able to get the number back into double digits.
But then I hit a rough patch.
I couldn’t save anyone.
The number kept counting down.
******
He looked sufficiently wound up as he left.
Ryan Johnson, fired from the TekSystems group, twice divorced with his 2nd wife also a coworker was an angry man. Angry enough at the world to build a bomb. Guided by me, of course.
I didn’t like it, but I liked the idea of dying even less.
I would be the hero, saving hundreds of lives, giving myself room to breathe. And of course, if this worked, then I could always encourage more people to try things like that and save them. If it didn’t, well then I was dead anyways.
Of course, my bad luck just continued. Ryan didn’t follow the instructions properly. The bomb wasn’t supposed to go off till 10 when the office would be completely filled. But the idiot made some mistake in the triggering circuit and the bomb went off at 8:30. I was still putting on my superhero costume when I heard the boom.
He was crying when I reached his home.
“Ryan! What did you do?”
“I don’t know. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.” He was sobbing so hard that I could barely make out what he was saying.
“You moron.”
“I’m sorry.”
My anger grew and I choked that idiot and killed him on the spot.
That was when the police showed up.
They don’t understand. No one does. I’m not a villain. In fact it’s the opposite. I’m a hero. I just want to save lives.
But they don’t get it.
They still put me in jail, calling me crazy.
Here I was cleaning up the city. I just took down someone who was planning to bomb a whole building and they were calling me crazy?
Was I living in some sort of upside down world?
I sat in my jail cell waiting for the countdown, staring at my wrist.
I’m not sure when I fell asleep.
I woke up the next day, the number at -11. | I slept off the whole of the second day because of my bender on day one, and a third day of hair of the dog left me in no proper mood to panic, but today? Today is panic time, because I’m finally sober enough to realize that the number on my wrist isn’t some stupid tattoo the boys forced me to get after we stumbled out of the bar Friday night. It wasn’t carved into my skin with ink too permanent to be washed off. It was sketched on with sharpie, and I’ve even found the sharpie, and when I started it said 69 (because I’m classy like that,) not 68 or 67 or 66.
Worse still, every time I try to wash it off the ink actually does run a little, but in such a way that the number doesn’t fade. Rather, a black streak runs down from my left wrist to the crook of my arm, sinks into the veins there, and then travels in an inky streak beneath my skin.
So today, on the fourth day since I wrote the damn thing, and on the first day I’ve been sober enough to panic about it, I’m washing and washing and washing and watching the numbers travel.
There are four separate streaks of ink slithering across me. I almost wish I could feel them move but I can’t. I’m in front of the bathroom mirror in my boxers when the doorbell rings and help arrives.
“It’s unlocked!” I shout. The door to my little apartment opens and I can hear Jess bustle in. She throws down the bag she always carries and it thuds heavily.
“Cal?” she says.
“I’m in the bathroom! Uhhh…yeah, the bathroom!” I think about warning her for a moment, but what would I even say?
“You better not be doing anything gross!” Her footsteps draw nearer, the ink still slithers, I think I’m going insane. “I swear, if you are I’m breaking—”
Jess turns the corner, sees me standing there almost naked, smiles for just a second, and then shrieks.
It’s about the reaction I was expecting.
“Cal, what the hell is that?” she asks, pointing at a streak of black ink that’s doing figure eights on my chest.
I shake my head, “I’ve got no idea, I just woke up like this. I’ve been trying to wash the ink off for an hour but it just keeps running and running. I didn’t know who else to call.”
She takes a step forward like she’s going to hug me and I leap back, holding out a hand. “Woah, woah, no! Not until we know what this is. I didn’t call you over to get it on you, I just needed help, I’m freaking out over here!”
“Help? Did you call 911?"
“911? And what would I say to them, I wrote the number 69 on my wrist while I was drunk and now I think my sharpie’s possessed?”
Her jaw drops. Jess stares at me like grown another head, and then her eyes dart to wrist and the number 66 there and she’s laughing so hard. “You sure it was 69? Cal, how drunk did you get this time? I swear, it’s like I can’t leave you alone.”
“It was definitely 69,” I say.
“Looks like 66 to me.”
“Yeah? Well it’s only been that since I woke up.” I pull out my phone, and start her pictures. I didn’t have one of 69, but I snapped a blurry 68 in one of the few moments I’d been awake the next day, and 67 was crystal clear.
“You’re fucking with me,” she says.
“Jess, I wish I was fucking with you. I love fucking with you. But if I was half naked and doing that, wouldn’t think I’d have tried to pull some shit already?”
That gives her pause. I can see her eyes dart down to the black lines in my skin again, following them on their weird circuitous journey. “Look,” I say, “watch this.” Then I wet the sponge and squirt some soap on it and start scrubbing at the number again.
Only this time I’m not at it long enough to start it running again. A few seconds later I feel a sudden, blinding pain, like someone’s taken a hot poker out of a fire and jammed itinto my lower back. I fall, barely catching myself against the sink and Jess wraps her arms me, calling my name. I want to push her off but I can’t, I’m in too much pain and she’s too strong. When I come to she’s holding me, mopping at my sweaty brow with a towel as she whispers my name.
“Holy shit,” I say.
“Cal! Baby, are you ok? What happened?”
“I feel like I got burned.” I worm my way out of her grasp. “Did any of it get on you? I really don’t think you should be touching me.”
My lower back is still on fire. “Jess, I’m gonna turn around now, and I need you to tell me if you see anything weird, ok?”
“Baby, you’re scaring me.” Her eyes are so big, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen her shiver quite like she’s shivering now.
“I’m scared too.” I say, and then I turn.
Her gasp fills my little bathroom, and I know something is so wrong. “Jess?” She snaps a picture behind me, the flash is shockingly bright and unexpected.
“Turn around, you’ve got to see this,” she says.
I turn and she’s holding her phone out to me in shaking hands. There’s a one emblazoned on my lower back in a single, big, bold letter. The skin around it is all red and inflamed. I raise my wrist to the light and it still says 66.
“Jess, what time is it?”
“It’s late, why?”
“The exact time, what is it?”
She looks at her phone, “11:58 PM, I didn’t get your text until late.”
“11:58,” I say, and when I look her I can see the exact moment she realizes, and the color drains out of her face.
Jess wraps her arms me, buries her face in my shoulder, and says “I’m going to hold you for the next two minutes, and there’s you can do about it.”
We pass the two longest minutes of our lives like that, blotches ink still racing around under skin, her face in my shoulder, planting tender kisses on me every few moments, my back burning where a number that should not be has written itself into me.
11:59, I’m counting the seconds.
Midnight.
Nothing changes.
“Jess,” I say. She leans back, still holding onto me and I kiss her so deep, my fears about the ink and her touch temporarily forgotten. When we break the kiss we’re both gasping for air and there’s a fire in her eyes that does something to me. But then I look down at my wrist and it reads 65, and she sees too and whimpers and the fire goes. “I’m going to turn around now,” I say, “I need you to tell me if it changed.”
She nods and I turn, and she doesn’t even need to say anything because a moment later I feel her finger tracing a zero on my back.
And then in the apartment next door, a man starts screaming.
r/TurningtoWords
[part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/mv472p/wp_yesterday_i_wrote_the_number_69_on_my_wrist_as/gvah3az?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x&context=3) | 2021-04-20T19:57:39 | 2021-04-20T19:43:52 | 149 | 76 |
[WP] Superpowers are granted depending on how you died in your previous life. Someone who died in a fire might shoot fire from their fingertips, etc. You were an astronaut that died during the SpaceX Mars Mission. | I’m unaffected by pressure.
That sounds like nothing, right?
Well, think about the air pressure pushing down on you right now. Think about the pressure you are exerting on the the world by standing on it. Think about the pressure at the on of the ocean that can crush most things not originating from there. Think about the vacuum of space, that has so little pressure that you’ll boil and pop.
I think about that last one a lot. After all, it’s what led to this.
Putting that aside though, other forces affect me: thermal change, granitic attraction, electromagnetics, etc. It’s just isn’t *pressing* (ha ha).
It’s nice. No bully could push me around, no villain can strike me down, no weight is too great for me to carry. Bullets don’t leave a mark.
But it has its flaws. I don’t get anything from hugs. I’ve heard tickling can be annoying, but I’ll never know. I can’t ever get a tattoo, only burns. I would never be able to give blood as the needle can’t go through my skin, and there’s no pressure difference to draw the blood.
All that there is for me to do, is talk, and think. I’m now the one that gets sent to negotiate with people. You know the kind, those that can punch through walls, can throw buildings, etc. Never the ones with laser vision, control over magnetism or electricity, nor the ones who can freeze things. Just strength. Just “punchy pushy fighter” types.
Thankfully I’ve gotten good at it. Haven’t met anyone immune to *social* pressure, so that’s nice.
Still curious what a relationship would be like. Tried dating a while back, but apparently there’s a lot that people intuit based on feel. Makes me bad at hugs, and kissing, and most things past that.
Who knows. Maybe I just need one little push. | The girl snapped her fingers, and the woman who was yelling immediately gasped and clutched her throat, her shouts cut off as she rasped for breath.
"Are you going to calm down, now?" The girl asked, nonplussed.
"You... Bitch..." The woman's eyes that were bulging out of her head were filled with cold fury. She snapped her own fingers, and the girl immediately collapsed to the floor, and the force that was making the woman unable to breathe disappeared.
"You goddamned ingrate..." The woman gasped, looking down at the girl in disdain. The girl was asleep. Put to rest by the woman's powers. There were many in the world who had the woman's powers, but no one had the girl's.
Countless people died in their sleep, but no one had died of a space suit malfunction on a spacewalk in an orbit around mars.
The girl had, in a last life. And her power to stop people from breathing was a Class S ability. If she was not contained or institutionalised, it would spell danger for everyone around her.
But the thing was, she was. They were in one of the rehabilitation institutions for youth with Class A or higher tiers of powers. The woman, and many like her, were there to teach the children. Educate them about the wonders and dangers of the powers they possessed.
But the girl was an honest to god sociopath.
The woman heard the door open behind her and people rush in, talking in hushed voices.
"Shit... Are you ok? That's the second goddamn time this week. She's out of control." A man whispered loudly, and the woman saw the girl shift, and then shift back as if she was still sleeping.
"She's awake. Stand back." The woman muttered angrily, fingers ready to snap and activate her ability again. Continually using her powers would drain her, but the girl had to be subdued.
"Are you going to behave or do you want to go to sleep again?" She asked the girl.
"Behave? All I was doing was talking to that boy."
"I heard what you were telling him."
"He can stop people's hearts from beating. He died from a heart attack in his previous life, right?"
"How he died isn't important. He can use his powers for good. He can influence people's heart rhythms. Do you know how valuable he would be as a frontline worker? He'll singlehandedly resuscitate people who are dying. He doesn't need to hear the vile bullshit you're putting in his ear."
"Ironic, isn't it. If only he had someone with his power to save him from dying in the first place."
"Look, with enough time, we can find a productive use for your power, too."
"I do have a productive use for it."
"You nearly killed me. You nearly killed most of everyone in this room."
"Sucks that you all died in your sleep in your past lives. I thought putting others to sleep was a dumb power, but you guys really like to abuse the shit out of that power on us, huh?"
"The only abuse of power here is you abusing yours."
"Have you met anyone with a power like mine?"
At this the people in the room shifted uncomfortably. They could not fathom her previous death, much less the extent of her powers that derived from it.
"No. That is why we're trying to help."
"Trying to restrict, more like. I want to see. I want to see how far I can push myself. What my powers actually are. I think oxygen manipulation is only part of it."
"You can't... You remember what happened to them."
"I told you I'm over them."
"You're not. You're sixteen years old and you killed your parents on accident. There's no way you're over something like that."
"Well, you aren't a doctor. Just let that boy and me do our thing. If things go too far. Hey, you have your miracle boy to bring whoever gets the short end of the stick back to life."
The woman wanted to scream at the girl, but only angrily snapped her fingers again. And the girl's posture slumped for the second time that day as she was put to sleep. | 2021-04-26T08:36:08 | 2021-04-26T08:30:01 | 173 | 43 |
[WP] A permanent storm rages across a planet. The only inhabitants are nomads who constantly travel inside the eye of the storm. | "We must keep moving!"
"We can't! Our people are tired! Please! We must stop and rest! Just for a little while!" Yelled the elder as he hunched with hundreds hurdled in the snow.
"No! Look! The eye is closing, we must stay in the eye!"
I pointed in the distance past the snow capped mountains, dark grey clouds loomed closer and closer bringing cold wind and rain. I stared at the elder, his eyes red with tears. We had to keep moving.
"My people! We must be always moving! We must stay in the sun! I know it's been a long time. You are tired. You must trust me! I know the caves are close! It is our death we are trying to outrun.You must not let it catch you now!"
The elder burrowed his eyes in his hands.
"I cannot go any further."
I walked to the elder kneeling down beside him.
"Then stay. Stay here. Meet the Gods, but give me a chance to bring our people to life."
He began to cry heavily. I brought myself up and boomed.
"My people! We must move! Now! The caves are close, I can feel it!"
Hundreds gathered themselves up and begin to move forward, I rushed ahead. I know the caves are close. We must keep going. We will find the caves.
I looked up at the sun, it glared down brightly on us but brought us little warmth. I walked faster and faster as we began to make our accent up the last towering hill.
"My people! The caves are near! We must not lose hope! Over this last hill we will find the caves! I'm sure of it!"
I could hear them all behind me. Breathing heavy. They were tired. I began to run up the hill. I had the energy. I had the hope. I began to run. Cold wind burned my face as I began to increase my pace with excite. I saw the summit. We were close. We were so close. This would buy us time, I turned back towards my people.
"We are almost there! Please do not lose hope!"
I began to run faster. The summit only feet away. Finally victory. All these months we've have moved. All these months with little rest. Little food. We've lost hundreds. I would not let mother nature beat us. I would not let her beat me. I gave my last energy to eat up the last couple feet remaining of the hill.
We had finally made it. I have done it.
I came to the summit and stared.
And stared.
And stared.
And stared.
I felt them behind me. Their footsteps fell silent as they stop and waited. I heard their eager ears clammering for the good news.
"What do you see! Do you see the caves?"
They asked with excitement.
"No."
They began to mutter among themselves as I turned and bowed my head.
"What do you see? What is it?"
I looked down at them. All their eyes bright with hope looked up at me. I spoke.
"The coast."
| She’d been gone too long, well over a day now. I couldn’t be sure how many hours had passed exactly, the night had simply bled into the morning. Any semblance of a sun, any notion of light, had escaped us for the past few months.
It hadn’t always been this bad—there were days, weeks even, where we could see where we walked. Days where we didn’t leave things behind—didn’t leave people behind—in the sheer darkness that engulfed us. There were days where I woke up and could see the details of her face: the blue of her eyes; the unwashed, amber curls of her hair; the contours of her dirt-scarred, red-stained skin. Yet it had been so long now since light brought its comforting rays.
She’d left to get what we lost, still suborn and brave as the day I’d met her. I told her to stay, we all did. You never go back, not for anything. Not for anyone. She knew that, I knew that. Everybody knew that. Still, despite our cries, despite my hand wrapped around her dusted wrists, she slipped away and ran. She bolted toward the darkness, her body fading to a silhouette before vanishing entirely. I chased her for a moment, I tried to stop her. I called her name, I told the emptiness that I loved her. I did what I could, but she was gone. I could have kept running, of course I could have. I could have chased her in the direction she went, losing myself in the darkness that raged beyond. But I didn’t. Instead I fell to the floor, my knees scratching into the dry, dirt-caked ground, and then kept going.
No one ever came back from beyond the eye of the storm. Those that got lost in the darkness, those that strayed from our pack, those that simply were too much to carry—they were gone. Only rumors survived the outside: stories of the endless night, the piercing rains, the stabbing ice, the eternal winds. Late at night, as we allowed ourselves our momentary breaks from our constant walking, we could hear the sounds of the storm just mere miles away. It never stopped, it never ceased. It raged throughout the night, the eternal night.
Still, I believed she would return. I believed she would survive the storm, she would find a way. She’d always been the strongest of us. Perhaps it was simple naiveté, or perhaps it was idiocy, or perhaps it was love. Whatever the case, I’d fallen back from the front of the pack. No longer was I leading the eternal march within the center of the eye. No longer was I in the safety of the numbers, the voices of those I’d known my entire life filling the emptiness around me. I’d slipped behind, the air growing colder as the wind whipped my back. She was out there, somewhere.
I took another step forward, then paused. They others were so many steps ahead, the details of their torn clothing no longer visible. None of them had turned back toward me, none of them had so much as glanced in my direction. They were just walking, marching toward the calmness that forever evaded them. I resumed walking, the sound of the darkness behind me growing louder with each missed step.
She wasn’t the first person to venture into the storm, to run from the comfort in which we wandered. There had been so many more of us just a year prior, so many people who simply vanished. The elderly, their footsteps grew slower with time, our eyes staring straight ahead as their bodies faded from our peripherals. We couldn’t save them, couldn’t fight for them while we tried to keep ourselves alive. Sure, some tried, wrapping their parents addled arms around their shoulders as they walked, but it was always short-lived. A day, maybe two, before the reality of survival set in. Then they were gone.
Other people simply chose to enter the storm. Tired of walking, tired of running, tired of simply never stopping. Instead, they chose to embrace the winds and the darkness that forever perused us. We knew when it was happening, knew they had made up their minds. Sometimes they spoke, said their goodbyes, but they never really needed to say a word. They simply slowed their pace or stopped entirely, the rest of marching forward with our eyes locked on whatever lay ahead.
I took another step forward, and then stopped. She was out there, somewhere, alone and alive. I knew it, she had to be. Nothing had been able to stop her yet, not me, not the storm, not anything. I took another step forward, then turned toward the darkness. I was the one that was responsible for what we’d lost, I was supposed to be watching. I told her we could have another, begged her to stop with callous, empty excuses for cowardice. Of course she didn’t listen, of course she turned back.
I increased my pace, the air growing dry around me as the sound of the storm neared. She was out there, she was alive.
_____________
^If ^you ^enjoy ^my ^writing ^style, ^feel ^free ^to ^check ^out ^some ^of ^my ^other ^short ^stories [^in ^my ^subreddit!](http://www.reddit.com/r/ChokingVictimWrites/) | 2015-02-07T15:37:33 | 2015-02-07T15:21:49 | 1,328 | 173 |
[WP]: Humanity has developed a hypersensitivity to puns, experiencing physical pain when exposed to especially bad wordplays. As no physical damage happens, it is used to penalize petty criminals. This is your job. You are the Punisher. | "Who's next?"
"He's in room four, tried to pull a bank heist. Get this though, he left the keys in the getaway car and someone else stole it while he was inside! He probably would have gotten away with it otherwise."
"You've got to be fucking kidding me."
"No shit, I swear. Anyways, good luck Rob."
"Thanks, this'll be a quick one."
--
"Good morning Kraft, I hope you slept well last night," I offered jovially as I sat down across the table from him, resting my sunglasses and badge beside me. "Do you know who I am?"
"You're the... the... th-" Kraft stuttered.
"The *Pun*isher, that's right." He moaned gently as I introduced my title. I never got tired of that one, it was always fun to warm them up to what was to come. I paused, staring intently at him, the calm before the storm. "Well Kraft, I hear you did some pretty good work the other day. You had most of the banks warning system disabled, security was distracted, you made it in and out of the bank vault without a problem..." they almost seemed to get more uncomfortable the longer I went without using a pun "...so it must have been awfully *alarming* when you took *account* of the situation outside..."
"Aargh! Stop!" he groaned.
"...to see your *Krafty* plan *get away* from you. I bet you weren't *banking* on *lending* someone else your car, huh!" I tore into him as he thrashed about in his seat. "I hear you have a girlfriend Kraft. I'm not sure how you *stole* her heart when you're this incompetent. Make sure you *teller* goodbye *foreclosure*, because you're going to be *a-loan* for a long time."
"Please... it hurts..." mumbled Kraft, as he huddled in his chair.
"Hey Kraft, why so *withdrawn*? You should have thought about this all before. Last I *chequed* it was pretty common *stock* that theft is a crime. There's no *saving* you now." He shook unpleasantly, almost seizing. "You know Kraft, this has been fun, but you remind me of a bank: I'm quickly *losing interest* in you," I told him as I gathered my things, standing up and walking towards the door. I could hear him breathing heavily behind me - he thought it was over.
I stopped, turning towards him. "Well Kraft, it looks like..." I paused to put my sunglasses on "...you've been Robbed." A few more violent spasms and he fell unconscious, sagging to the floor.
--
I swear, sometimes you couldn't write these crimes any better for my talent. | Humanity has always possessed it-- a raw, involuntary reaction to the worst of wordplay. Lowly “dad jokes” would cause a slight wince. An overly simplistic knock-knock joke might garner a garish groan. Even a simple bit of alliteration, as I have assuredly demonstrated, can make one uncomfortable. But we never realized the gravity with which the world of puns would slam down on our shoulders. Puns have evolved into an elegant form of swordplay, where awful puns jab like knives into the mind of the listener. This development led to the creation of a new brand of justice: punishers, like myself, wait in the darkest parts of prisons, courthouses, and CIA interrogation dungeons, practicing our craft on the lowliest rung of society’s ladder.
Prisons have always seemed a natural place to me, although now the fact that they are part of the “punitive system” seems ironic. While it may be immoral to murder a murderer or steal from a thief, locking criminals up to shield society from them is at least morally permissible under most ethical systems, and puns are punishment enough. My first case of the day, an overbearing man who was caught across the allotted boundaries of a tiger cage at a nearby zoo, is an easy one. I approach the cell.
“HEY PUNISHER, I hear you’re an officer of the law. More like an AWFUL-SIR!” shouts the inmate. Even punishers aren’t immune to the piercing pain of poignant puns, but wordplay this terrible barely scratches my mental state.
“I’m sorry, but *petty* criminals aren’t worth much of my time.” This one hurt him, although it took a few seconds for the pain to set in. Us punishers are protected by our ingenuity. Of course the inmates try and fight back, but they are untrained and often unable to keep up with our wit. “I’m surprised they put you in here and not somewhere worse. Good job *cell*ing them on this pad.” I remark as I gesture toward his rough accommodations. His hands clasp to his ears, but the pain he is experiencing doesn’t quite allow him to dull the sound of my voice. I fire off a few more quick shots, nothing too damaging, and move on to my next case of the day.
As I come up on this cell, something is different. Something is ominous. It is far too quiet here. I examine the inmates around my next target, and find them pushed up against the walls opposite the man at the center, who is sitting quietly. What has he been saying? How can he cause this much pain so quickly? He has only been incarcerated for a day and a half, and his crime really wasn’t so dramatic. I step up to face him.
“Apparently you skimmed a few cents off of every transaction at your desk job. Sounds *cheap* to me.” He remains still. “I thought integrity was the *staple* of every office.” No reaction. My heart begins to race. “If everyone acted as you have, offices would be *papered* with issues.” I was clearly losing focus. I was panicking. Only the most hardened hearts and witty minds could withstand this kind of assault. “Did you talk to your boss? Every action by employees is measured by a strict *ruler* after all.” He finally looks up. He cocks his head.
“What? Do you expect me to grovel? Do you expect me to writhe in pain? Did you think I would sit here and shake? Well… I guess because atoms vibrate, everyone shakes on *an atomical* level.”
An atomical level… anatomical level… I double over in pain. I was not expecting this.
“I can smell your fear… and here I thought you were an *ol’ factory* of puns.” My knees buckle. I try to speak but my chest is too tight. Any more and I’ll be out. I need to fight back.
I gasp: “your defeat will taste great after I *mustard* a comeback.” Damn. I can’t do this. I need to get out of here. I start to crawl away but can’t help hearing what is said next.
“Punisher! Don’t run away. If you *Bolt* out of here, I’ll never know what *Usain*.” Weakness. As I lay on the floor I can tell that he is running out of gas. If I can just protect myself with one last, parting pun, I can make it to safety…
“You’re getting pretty low, even for a convict. If you don’t give me some respect, you’ll always be a *con descending*.” His eyes open wide, he falls to the ground. I crawl to the safety of the waiting room, and pull myself up to a chair. I hear the Big Chill on to entertain those in line for a visit.
My coworker remarks: “Hey man, *chill*. That was a *Close* situation in there.” I go unconscious. | 2015-02-08T09:25:19 | 2015-02-08T08:57:45 | 30 | 17 |
[WP]God answers all of your prayers, and only your prayers. God is also kind of a dick with a matching sense of humor. | Just last week, I prayed to God and told Him that I was broke.
I check my mailbox (His favorite method of divine delivery) and found a cash-filled envelope. When I opened it, I instead found a note:
"Hello Broke, I'm God!"
You know, I'm about tired of His shit. | The day Bill Hays trapped me inside my locker after school and left me there shivering like a wet kitten all night long -- they turned the heat off at night, of course, what with the recession and all -- I interspersed some prayers with my sobbing, and I guess the Lord must have thought I was the pitifulest thing he'd ever seen, because the next morning when somebody heard me banging on the door and they had the janitor let me out, the first thing I heard was that Billy was missing.
Of course I didn't connect those two dots at first -- my prayers hadn't gotten specific, I'd just asked for Billy to get what he deserved -- but I began to have an inkling the next week, when I prayed for Grandma to get better and soon enough she'd kicked the cancer and scampered off to New Orleans. Course this left my grandfather in an irreparable state of despair, so I had to pray for him to find a new source of happiness, and that Friday he won the lottery. He bought himself a yacht and a busty young wife and sailed off for parts unknown -- we never saw him again, although we didn't hold it against him. What kind of family would have? It was enough just to know he was happy.
Having discerned by this point that the Big Man and I were on speaking terms, I set about trying to fix the world as best as I knew how. I prayed for all the poor folks in Africa who didn't have enough food, and then a couple months later I saw news that giant mutated bunny rabbits were cropping up left and right over there, eating up everybody's back yard and multiplying much faster than you could shoot em.
Then things started getting dicey. I prayed that the Israelis and Palestinians would get along better and before you knew it somebody'd set off a couple hydrogen bombs and blown the whole region to smithereens. Sure the Israelis and Palestinians didn't get on each other's cases all the time any more, but that was cause there were probably only fifty folks left on either side, and those fifty were too busy dying of radiation sickness to squabble over a few miles of holy ground.
Well I looked up the former population of Israel and Palestine and I reckoned I'd become one of the world's greatest mass murderers overnight, which as you can imagine made me feel sorta glum. I resolved to be much more careful and specific with my prayers, so as to avoid any more accidents.
*****
*Believe I'll continue this'n tomorrow, but for now it's bedtime :C*
| 2015-02-13T01:00:12 | 2015-02-12T21:52:15 | 33 | 11 |
[WP] You have been given magical gifts suitable for fairytale princesses. Whenever you sing, forest creatures gather near; anything you wear turns into a lovely tailored dress; and handsome princes are drawn to you. The problem is, your name is Joe, and you're a 40 year old grizzly biker. | **"Chuck, brother, I ain't gonna make it to the meeting tonight."**
"You better not be toss'n it with that Debra chick again, I swear Jimmy-"
"Naw, nothin' like that Chuck. Look, I'm not really sure how to explain this one, it's ... it's weird, man."
"What the *hell* did you do this time."
"Chuck, man, I don't know how to tell ya other'n to just tell ya. I had this dream last night - like nothing I ever had before. This fat lady-thing with these big ol' bug wings, like the kinds you see on them mosquita-eaters, she fell from the sky - and I *caught* her.
"Well, she was all happy she didn't splatter, and I guess she gave me a gift. That lady-thing bopped me on the head, and said 'you got a dozen months'."
"Dozen months of what?"
"Hell if I know. Here's the part you won't believe - I think it weren't no dream."
"Jimmy, you been drinking the Tequila again?"
"Listen to me, man, I'm tellin' ya something! I'm telling ya bout my morning! I woke up in the middle of the woods, *in a dress*."
"I knew it. You *have* been drinking the Tequila again."
"Chuck, brother, I mighta had a few drinks last night, but I know I didn't pass out in the middle of the forest in no dress. I ain't even done yet."
"S'More?"
"You know how I like to sing when I'm peein' don't you-?"
"Boy, *everyone* knows you sing when you pee."
"-Well, I was takin' a leak in the woods, you know, just hummin' to myself, and then I hears a rustlin' sound from the bushes. I thought it was a little critter or something, so I says 'who's there,' and these devil-sharp ears stick out over the bush. I knew it was a bobcat. I didn't even put my pecker away 'fore I ran out of there."
"Jesus Christ Jim man. Jesus. Christ."
"The thing I don't get is why he followed me for half a mile back to my bike, like some dang kitty-cat?"
"Jimmy, this Tequila problem is getting serious, man. A real problem. You got Martha worried, you got the whole gang uneasy, man. You gotta deal with your problems"
"Got *dang* it, Chuck. I ain't talkin' bout no Tequila dreams! This is- oh, hang on man - *Yes? Can I help you? What's that? You've been waiting for me? What do you mean you've been waiting for this moment for your entire life?' Who the hell are you calling 'pure and beautiful?' What the hell is wrong with you, pretty boy? Why are you staring into my eyes like that, what's - Hey. HEY! HE'S TRYING TO KISS ME! HELP!" | So my name is Joe and I have a, well a curse. You see, I have powers like a fairy tale princess but I mean ones bearable and kinda helpful I guess. The 3rd one is pretty weird and kinda not good. and finally there is the last one which is super inconvenient. Of course my powers or curses or whatever they are, are singing makes animals come to me, princes are attracted to me and whatever I wear becomes a very girly and nice looking dress.
Now you can probably guess which is which but the fact is that I am a biker. A very hairy and older biker actually. The first two curses don't often effect me it's really just the last one. The dress one.
The only reason I have normal clothes is because under the dresses are short pairs of under pants and a tank top which I make sure I wear a towel over my shirt. People ask about why I have a towel tied to me most of the time but I really just say I don't know.
One day I was a restaurant when I was approached by a really hot brunette woman in a fancy red dress which was pretty surprising because by restaurant I meant McDonald's. She gave me her business card and said "Meet me in front of your apartment door around noon at 6 pm. It is a matter about your curse."
Before I could say anything back the woman was gone and I was really confused. I looked at her blue business card, it read Catherine Bearving and under those words it read Curses and Gifts Explorer.
That night at Six I was in front of my door mainly because the words she stated and her card said intrigued me. "Curses" that was the same way I described what happened to me. I arrived in front of my door at 5:59 and she was already there.
"Well I see you showed up sir" she said to me in a British accent.
"Um hello... uh ... Carry was it?"
"Catherine" she chuckled "Well since you showed up I'm assuming you are wondering why I came to do talk to you, well If you let me in I can explain."
Normally I wouldn't let strangers into my home but she just felt like she knew something I didn't. I let her in and we both sat on my couch in my living room.
"Have you ever mocked a fairy tale princess" she asked me abruptly.
"Huh?"
"I said have you ever mocked a fairy tale princess that could have something to do with your curse."
There it was again the word "curse" she clearly knew something I didn't. I looked back on my childhood before this whole weird curse thing started. "When I was 7 I made fun of girl toys and girly princesses I think" I claimed
"Hmm that could be it, how much did you make fun of them for and did you talk to a girl about how stupid they were or did you just think this."
"Uh... I ... I think I made fun of them for about 3 weeks then I outgrew it and moved on. I think I made fun of a girl though... yeah I did she had these dum toys and these stupid pig tales. I always said those things would be so stupid in real life!"
"THAT MUST BE IT" she shouted " That girl might of put a curse on you if she grew enough of a grudge and became a witch later in life."
"A witch?"
"Yeah a witch."
I was confused on multiple things like why she still was helping me and how she knew all this stuff but that was beside the point. I needed to know how to stop this curse. "So is the curse reversible?"
"Yes" she started " according to your story this would mean to reverse these things you would need to for three weeks be dating a prince, befriend 10 animals and Wear 50 different dresses each for at least 12 hours each."
"WHAT" my mouth was wide I was confused but most importantly reluctant to the idea. But even then I had to if it meant getting out of this curse. The real question was though how I would get a prince to date me. My curse made them attracted to me but I'm pretty sure the rest of the country the prince was from wouldn't like me much.
"So how could I go about all this" I asked
"Glad you asked first we will need to give you a makeover of course since you don't just look like a weirdo guy just wearing girl clothes and trying to date a prince."
As bad as that all sounded I knew it had to be done if I wanted this curse to go away.
Over the next few weeks I trained with Catherine trying to seem like a normal girl so I could get a prince to date me for 3 weeks and I befriended a coupe animals on the way. I never really got to ask many questions to Catherine about why she was helping me or who she was for that matter.
After 3 months I finally had everything done so I broke up with the prince of Sealand and I finally came back home in a normal towel and woman's clothes. "So when will I be normal again" I asked.
Then Catherine's hair did itself up into 2 pigtails and she said "well that all depends. Did you enjoy being a princess yourself Joe?" | 2016-03-25T20:45:50 | 2016-03-25T20:28:55 | 243 | 23 |
[WP] It's been six months since your high school became you and your peers only stronghold from the zombies outside. The students have dissolved into factions, each with their own role in this mock society. Tell about your daily life. | Day 188
We found a message from the student senate this morning, calling for an all school summit at noon today. They want to hold it in the main lobby, of course, since that's right outside the main office where their numbers are strongest. Not to mention it being across the hall from the auditorium. Everyone knows the thespians club united with the senate kids not long after the failed cafeteria tower assault three months ago. The Senate also have the freshmen more or less under their sway, so anybody walking first floor west better have their head on a swivel. Walking into that main lobby is going to be like walking into a box canyon.
I collect the tribute we managed to make over the last week and carefully wrap it in cloth and stow it in my book bag. I'm in a small mixed faction of sophomores that moved into the library after the language lab we were hiding in got caught up in a fire that swept through several second floor classrooms. We make our tribute by gluing thin strips of paper together to form rudimentary woodwind reeds for the Band Kids that now have total control of the cafeteria tower, including the band room and the the newspaper office. Their supplies are dwindling and they know it, and they are demanding more and more tribute every week, so we recently opened a secret dialogue with the JROTC guys. They have an outside access through the doors back by the teachers lot and have been making hunting forays into the neighborhood for a while now. The only problem is they are based all the way on the other side of the building and down two flights of stairs in the basement. Between us and them are the Goth kids, who have been completely out of control since they ran out of cigarettes months ago. Its cannibal country. Luckily not one of them can run or fight, so if you keep moving you should be okay. Its getting past the Cheerleaders in the Faculty Lounge that's really dangerous.
Looks like Matt and Alicia are ready to head out, I better gear up...more about the summit later, assuming we survive the afternoon.
Edit: day 188.75
The summit was a trap. Kayley, Carlos M., Carlos R., and Darius are all dead. It was the FACULTY! The teachers no one has seen since the roof over the nurses office collapsed in the fire. Jesus they were out for blood, it looks like they've gone Goth. It was like the fucking Reavers were attacking, if the lax team hadn't joined up with the football team in a banzai rush none of us would have made it out...
| 10 dorky high school students traipsed unceremoniously in circles. They shambled about in a fashion nearly indistinguishable from that of the zombies outside, which they found to be so repelling and repulsive. The reason for their lackadaisical meandering is uncertain. See, I was one of those dorky teenagers that day and had a bad habit of mimicking the behavior of those around me, without ever understanding why.
We had just murdered our teachers, and perhaps that had sent my friends spiraling into fits of self-reflection in their mental realms, which they couldn't help but simultaneously act out in the physical realm as well. As far as I was concerned though, we were just walking in circles for the hell of it.
The one who seemed to be in charge was a guy named Big Bald Billy and he was a really close friend of mine. I don't know why he went bald so young, but it must have made the rest of my friends think he should be allowed to wield some power. So he did. Big Bald Billy had told us to kill the teachers, and he said to be ruthless about it too. I used a splintered chunk of what was once the door to the little boy's room to slice Ms. Buttface's neck open. The others did similar things, and before long a pile of dead teachers had accumulated on the gymnasium floor.
"We really gave em hell out there, eh Bill?" said Sally the Half-slut with satisfaction, as she wiped the blood and sweat off her hands on the butt of her jean-short overalls. "I never thought I'd kill so many teachers in one day."
"Lmao, same" chuckled Dirty Dustin, flashing a half grin which faded quickly to a grimace. "I sorta wonder if it was really necessary though. What was the point of all that anyway, Bill?".
Big Bald Billy cleared his throat for longer than most would expect one to. "Listen guys," he began solemnly, "Kids rule. Kids forever." And after another pause, "Fuck school."
This rang true with me. I was reassured then that my very close friend Big Bald Billy had our best interests in his heart. Still, it seemed not everyone was as convinced as I was. And so they began to revolve in uncertainty about the room. Bored of watching, I soon joined in.
I don't know how long this lasted, but it came to an abrupt halt when a loud banging and hammering suddenly became apparent, coming from the direction of the boarded up entryway.
"Must be the zombies trying to get in," mused Lawrence "Turdboi" McBastard. Turdboi McBastard came from a long line of McBastards, of which I knew next to nothing.
The rest of us agreed that, yes, it was the zombies trying to get in and so discussion began as to what we should do next. That discussion soon turned to heated debate and, feeling agitated and uncomfortable, as I always have in situations such as these, I began to let out a high pitched squeal. As usual, Big Bald Billy quickly restored calm to the group.
"Listen everyone. We're not gonna stop those zombies from breaking through them doors. So when they do, I want you guys to fuck em up like we did the teachers, ya hear?"
We mumbled in agreement. When he put it that way, it all sounded so easy.
Moments later, the first zombie head poked through the fractured door to the chamber of our last stand. He didn't look so good. A few more heads popped through as the gap widened. Eventually the decomposing bodies attached to these heads came into view, and before long the wretched creatures began their awkward march in our direction.
They took out a couple freshman real quick. Shitty Kyle and another kid who I think was also named Kyle went down with hardly a fight. You can never count on a Kyle to do anything right. Of the 10 of us this story began with, the 3 who I haven't given a name to yet didn't fare much better. 5 dead kids now joined the teachers we had just hours ago dispatched, in laying lifeless on the floor.
Somehow we turned things around though. There weren't all that many zombies in the end really. One way or another we killed em all and the zombie problem was solved. When law enforcement came to investigate, we blamed our own murders on the now twice-dead foes who lay, unable to testify, at our feet. Due to the trauma the local townsfolk assumed we must be experiencing, and the brand new shortage of teachers, we were exempt from completing our education. We all got free diplomas and went our separate ways. Now I work at a bank.
Kinda a strange series events when you think of it. Anyway, thanks for agreeing to meet me for coffee. You're a really pretty girl and I think we should get married.
| 2016-05-04T07:20:53 | 2016-05-04T06:21:52 | 24 | 11 |
[WP] Two ancient armies prepare for battle, one army sends out a seven foot tall hulk as their champion; the other army sends out a little girl to raucous applause. | Two armies face each other across a grassy valley. Every footmen, archer, and knight hold their ground as the rays of the sun beat down on them. Evenly matched in both numbers and tactics, the generals agree that they must send a champion to represent their country in a glorious deathmatch.
The front line of the Eastern army divides in two. Then the second line, and then the third, until a well defined path is between the middle of the sea of men. The Western army does the same. And in that path, the champions walked.
From the East, is Maleoth of Ossidia: Slayer of Men, Champion of Seyfron, Iron Conqueror, Son of Gregar: God of War, Tamer of Dragons, the Apostle of Death, Hand of Justice, Servant of Lyxas: the Matriarch, the Head of the Pantheon, Mother of All Things Good and Evil, Baker of Cookies.
From the West, is Shelby. 10 years old.
They looked each other eye to eye. And Maleoth spoke.
“I can’t do this. She’s literally a child,” said Maleoth the Eloquent, the Mouthpiece of Soryo, the Bard of Avon. “You want me to kill a little girl, I just can’t. I can’t even.”
“I suppose it’s one of those situations where the girl is actually deceivingly cunning or quick, and will use those unconsidered variables to best you!” shouted a soldier from the East.
Maleoth looked into Shelby’s eyes. Only innocence. “No. Pretty sure she’s just a little girl. I’m a pretty good judge at this kinda thing,” spoke Maleoth, Judge of the Dead, etc. “What is the meaning of this?”
The Western General, in his Dragonscale armor and Griffin familiar, which he acquired in Book Three, flew down from the heavens. “It is a test. If you slay the girl, the West shall concede, and all the territory shall belong to the East. But really, if you must kill the girl to win, who’s the true winner here, hmm? What a moral dilemma. Man I’d hate to be the person who has to make this choice.”
Maleoth, in his infinite wisdom, raised his middle finger at the General.
The General nodded. “I am offended, but this was all a ruse as we actually have two hidden armies with invisible armor that are outflanking yours anyway.”
And thus, the Great Continental War, which was instigated from a single brawl but was bound to happen due to political and economic reasons that are far too complex to be discussed in one book, ended. | Tens of thousands of men leered at each other from across the neutral zone as horses snorted and pawed at the ground nervously. Steam rose in a vast cloud over all the hot bodies in the cool morning. Two men stand toward the front of one army while a small group stand at the front of the other army whose back was to a cities great walls. The battle would be decided by the ancient rite of single combat.
The two men at the front of the army facing the city’s walls were both tall but one was wiry and agile while the other a great big man of bulging muscle. The slender man leaned towards the larger and says in a mockingly confident tone, “Let us see what ‘champion’ they send to face ours, eh Garen.”
Garen looked seriously at the stick of a man and reprimanded in his booming voice, “Don’t count your Anivia’s before they hatch.” Varus laughed at the pun but shook his head. Even now Garen somehow thought that their champion would possibly not win them the day when she had never lost a battle after all this time.
Movement across the field signified the spreading of the enemy army to allow someone through. A great titan of a man emerged, towering over the soldiers by at least a foot. He roared a guttural cry and raised a great-sword as long as he was tall. His cry was answered by the soldiers behind him. The giant did look formidable, Varus had to give it to them. And did he really have only… “A real live cyclops” chuckled Varus, “Well not so alive for long.”
Varus nudged his friend good naturedly and gave a laugh, “Imagine the looks on their faces when she single-handedly brings down the Cyclops in front of their whole army eh brother. They’ll lay down all their weapons in front eh, EH!”
Garen spared Varus another of his serious looks before returning his watching gaze back onto the waiting army. That guy reaaally needed to lighten up, thought Varus as he strolled back towards their army.
Stopping a dozen yards out from the men, Varus grasped his bow in one hand and saluted it to his force and shouted as so everyone including the opposite army would hear him, “They believe that they will win the day with their titan champion ‘the Cyclops’.”
The soldier’s all booed as they had done for previous champions. The enemy army would ridicule ours when they saw our champion. They always did but then again they always all surrendered in the past so who cares about appearances. Her appearance was probably one of her greatest strengths well that and her teddy bear.
A voice sounded coming between the soldiers. They parted for it, making it look like a wave was breaking through the center of their ranks. It rang in a repeated fashion and all of a sudden a small girl no taller than three feet high was skipping out of the ranks of soldiers singing more to herself than anyone else, “Hop, skip, jump!”
Varus grinned widely as he stood facing the small girl and give her a small nod.
She grinned back then made a bow to the soldiers and said, “Play time!”
This caused a frenzy of cheering and clapping among our soldiers. The enemy was just now beginning to call out insults and jeers. They would see for themselves the awesome power of our secret weapon soon enough. This dark child had slain more champions than anyone Varus had ever met. As she skipped to meet the hulking cyclops in the center of the neutral zone she chanted her war song with the soldiers behind her carrying up, echoing her words.
“Ashes, ashes, they all fall down,” echoed ominously throughout the clearing by thousands of voices.
As she neared the great titan of the man, she slowed down until coming to a stop twenty yards away. Staring at each other across this distance, both armies were deathly silent and still as they watched and waited in breathless anticipation.
The Cyclops made the first move, giving the clearing another show of that fearsome guttural roar and beginning his charge at the young girl standing there lightly swinging her teddy bear in one hand.
As the great beast of a man bared down the last few yards on the child, her high voice rang out in the silence, “Have you seen my bear Tibbers?”
A great sphere of flame consumed both the girl and the warrior from vision just as he swung his great-sword down upon her. The sphere persisted for several seconds and when the flames had cleared in a sudden disappearance the scene that greeted the armies eyes caused both sides to gasp collectively.
The small girl was standing on top of the fallen cyclops chest, with her arms out trying to steady her balance. She looked up at her own army with a smile and called out, “This is fun!”
A cheer followed this as the day was almost won. Now onto the nexus.
//League nerd checking in. Just couldn't not think of Annie.
| 2016-06-28T20:09:26 | 2016-06-28T19:13:45 | 44 | 10 |
[WP] 2021: Hell invades Earth; 2022: Earth invades Hell. | "This was a bad idea." General Partridge stared across the bleak landscape as Private Graves approached him.
After a hard fought battle, the General's forces had made a grinding advancement up the fortified hill and had captured the outpost at its summit. The demon spawn had made hasty retreat, scurrying away from the area to regroup. Without delay, Graves had been commissioned to conduct a thorough review of the area, to determine exactly what they had captured.
"I have the report sir." Graves spoke nervously.
"Why did we think this was a good idea again?" General Partridge turned to Graves, a quiet confoundment in his eyes. "I mean am I right in saying that it's Hell?"
"Yes sir." Graves replied.
"Like as far as you went it was just all still Hell?"
"Yes sir."
General Partridge sat down on an outcrop of cooling Brimstone.
"You know Graves." He sighed "When Hell invaded us a year ago, I was horrified. I was appalled but you know what... at least I understood it. They wanted our world, our plentiful resources, our sunlight and cool breezes. They wanted to escape the endless torment of an infinite hell dimension.
So why did we respond by sending our global armies to capture it? A territory historically documented as the worst place ever. I mean, have we found any food?"
"No sir."
"Any oil reserves?"
"Yes... but they're all on fire, Sir."
"Any water sources?"
"... Also on fire, Sir."
"Great." Partridge sank back against the course rock wall. "How many demons did we kill?"
"We're reporting over 800 sir but..."
"But?" Partridge, sensing Graves' reluctance, fixed him with an unbreaking stare. Graves finally relented, unable to look his superior in the eye as he spoke.
"Well they're the damned so... when we kill them they go to Hell."
"Which is here."
"Yes sir."
"Fucking fantastic." Partridge uncapped his hipflask and took a much needed swig. "But we've advanced? The front line has moved?"
"Yes by two miles sir."
"And how much of Hell is that?"
"Well sir, Hell is infinite so our current land gain is..."
"So small it's not even mathematically calculable."
"Yes sir. Our usual advancement measures are based on terrain that..."
"Ends?"
"Well yes sir."
General Partridge looked out across the bleak landscape. Private Graves at his side.
"This was a bad idea." | Only five years prior no one would imagine a single global government or that a burgeoning 8 billion soul population would be savaged to half of that with whole regions of Earth completely depopulated. Evil had come to Earth and wore continental Europe as a cloak of flesh, initially in the form of renew desires and push for glory day empires of bending the riches of Asia, the Americas and Africa to the whim and will of European masters. Then a sudden assault as the Mastery of Europe turned the Eastern seaboard of the People's Republic of China into irradiated glass and ash which was decried by the world and dislocated alliances particularly NATO. The global community knew not what to do. A U.N. summit became the show piece in the truth of matter when all the representatives from Europe were torn to shreds as their hosts stepped through into this dimensional reality. Terrible beings of dripping black hatred tore the screaming delegates into wet heaps of quivering flesh leaving the Secretary-General as their final offering to their dark hell master. Secretary-General Jerrick of Singapore was flayed alive and pinned to the wall with the broken bones of the delegates their entrails used as arcane sigils to keep the devastated man alive. Terrible creatures appeared in every country around the world and pulled those of executive power through cracks in reality and straight into hell. In a few short hours the whole of the Earth was without any formal leadership.
Overnight a darkness enveloped the Old World as Hell dropped it's cloak of flesh and subjugated their mortals. Demonic beings and monsters of stories began to roam the hellscape. Then they went to war.
However disturbing and vile this new unreality was. No matter what the truth of it, were they aliens or was hell real does that mean heaven is real and an Angelic host was on it's way. There were no angels but there was something that Hell did not account for. The readiness and willingness of the remaining human population to wage war. In one short year humanity with the full vigour and mechanical horror of it's industrialised war machine had taken the European hellscape and turned into a moonscape, led by both oceanic fleets of the United States Navy supported by every nation's military capable of getting to Europe to fire a weapon. Massive armies of volunteers from Africa urged on by preachers and pastors met their brothers and sisters in arms from the middle and far Asia with weapons churned out by the immense American industrial complex.to wage a holy war to put Hell down.
The forces of Evil had no defence against such incredible amount of munitions, towering flesh beasts of tooth and horn that once put Ancient Hebrew warriors to flight were too slow and too big to avoid being turned to mist by small arms fire. Gargantuan fire breathing dragons littered the ground, their delicate wings chewed up by Australian joint strike fighters, and imps trying to hold the weapons of men began to decorate the belts of Ghurkha soldiers avenging the now dead British Isles.
A year and Hell was beaten into submission unable to wage war like the mortals they had intended to intimidate. A new world government was formed of the remaining leaders, and quickly sought to investigate the matter of retaliation whilst clean up of Europe took place. Every unholy altar was torn down, every idol destroyed and the whole place cleansed with fire and hammer and plastic explosive. In Bielefeld Germany a Aperture to hell was found. Science and engineering had quickly found means of following demonic energy and even was beginning to understand how it worked in the real world. Experts met and theories explored and ultimately it was discovered just as the hosts of hell could march into the world, the wrath of mankind could go back in. The decision was rapidly made and preparations for this new incursion were funded with the globes best warriors and hunters from the retaking of Europe called in to be fitted up for war once again. The South Sudan Snake Killers, a irregular force who won notoriety their unique approach for dealing with enslaved cultists and their masters volunteered early and with good cause to take the fight to hell. The New Iberian Moors made up of Moroccan troopers who liberated the Spanish peninsula also were picked. Finally the United South American warriors of Christ one of whom had bested the Anti-Pope in Rome in a dual were given their marching orders, singing hymns all the way to Germany.
The year was 2022 and mankind had reached the shores of Hell to kill the Devil and avenge the Dead.
Author note: It should be said i borrowed a lot of stuff from the world built by /u/Atimo3 over in r/worldbuilding. They did a stack load of really good work and it just seems to fit in this prompt. I took some massive liberties with what they made to suit my needs but credit is still due to them. | 2016-12-10T08:25:45 | 2016-12-10T08:01:30 | 117 | 27 |
[WP] 2021: Hell invades Earth; 2022: Earth invades Hell. | "This was a bad idea." General Partridge stared across the bleak landscape as Private Graves approached him.
After a hard fought battle, the General's forces had made a grinding advancement up the fortified hill and had captured the outpost at its summit. The demon spawn had made hasty retreat, scurrying away from the area to regroup. Without delay, Graves had been commissioned to conduct a thorough review of the area, to determine exactly what they had captured.
"I have the report sir." Graves spoke nervously.
"Why did we think this was a good idea again?" General Partridge turned to Graves, a quiet confoundment in his eyes. "I mean am I right in saying that it's Hell?"
"Yes sir." Graves replied.
"Like as far as you went it was just all still Hell?"
"Yes sir."
General Partridge sat down on an outcrop of cooling Brimstone.
"You know Graves." He sighed "When Hell invaded us a year ago, I was horrified. I was appalled but you know what... at least I understood it. They wanted our world, our plentiful resources, our sunlight and cool breezes. They wanted to escape the endless torment of an infinite hell dimension.
So why did we respond by sending our global armies to capture it? A territory historically documented as the worst place ever. I mean, have we found any food?"
"No sir."
"Any oil reserves?"
"Yes... but they're all on fire, Sir."
"Any water sources?"
"... Also on fire, Sir."
"Great." Partridge sank back against the course rock wall. "How many demons did we kill?"
"We're reporting over 800 sir but..."
"But?" Partridge, sensing Graves' reluctance, fixed him with an unbreaking stare. Graves finally relented, unable to look his superior in the eye as he spoke.
"Well they're the damned so... when we kill them they go to Hell."
"Which is here."
"Yes sir."
"Fucking fantastic." Partridge uncapped his hipflask and took a much needed swig. "But we've advanced? The front line has moved?"
"Yes by two miles sir."
"And how much of Hell is that?"
"Well sir, Hell is infinite so our current land gain is..."
"So small it's not even mathematically calculable."
"Yes sir. Our usual advancement measures are based on terrain that..."
"Ends?"
"Well yes sir."
General Partridge looked out across the bleak landscape. Private Graves at his side.
"This was a bad idea." | Manifest Destiny. There was time when I used to believe that I had choice. I used to go to church everyday, tearing, thinking that one day God would bring me into heaven. My lungs were black from coal, my hands scared and caloused. I try my best with my kids, never hit them, buy them nintendos and pokemons. I worry that they wont be able to take care of their children, that I may be the last generation. But I figure God has a plan and I have faith in their smile. Jesus is about forgiveness, and I do teach them responsibility through chores.
Last year, the Devil came. This isnt some metaphor from revelations. Wasnt a 7 headed creature that breathed ice and spat fire. But I knew it was the devil because he brought an army of evil. They came up from Mt St Helens, swooped over to Seattle, came down the west cost and have been trying to spread east. On the news I saw him. He looked young with a crazy look. Clockwork Orange is the best way I could describe it. His smile was inviting, I thought about leaving once or twice, I confess. They live as dominants to young liberal submissives. I bet they all have crazy parties. Last party I had was when I was 16. I got bullets which I then had to use for hunting scarce animals for extra cash. Well, I imagine they wont last forever. Many of the weakest are used as the frontlines to invade eastward. Its sad seeing it on the news. Theyll come for Kentucky eventually, but its so far away.
But Ive been reading. Apparently, theres diamonds in hell. Apparently theres iron and a bunch of materials that are pretty expensive. A prospector went down there through Russia, theyre talking motherload. Im thinking money. Retirement. All these years if hardwork, paying off. Theres been whispering of "Manifest Destiny". We all know the US will take over the world, only matter of time. So maybe its time to take on hell. On the news, politicians seem to have a confident smile. They dont seem worried Silicon Valley is preparing their robot army. Or that Los Angeles has been sending cult leaders to Minnisota and Mississippi. Blood for oil. Hey, I dont blame them. I wouldnt mind killing a few horned horse people myself. Well goat people. And then a big payoff?! Hoooweee! Just thinking about it gets me excited!
Ding Dong
Jimmy got up from his desk. Took off his glasses abd placed them down on the table. Wiped his eyes. "All this dreaming, is it a sin? Please forgive me lord" he whispered. He grabbed his pistol and holster and put it on. The floor gave out hollow echos as he walked to the front door. Theme songs could be heard faintly from the other room. A half angry smile smile came accross his face "You kids do your homework?!" He knew no answer would be replied, worth a try though. He approached the front door, a pale periwinkle.
"Hey, Darel! Whats the deal?!"
Darel had a crazy smile. An M249 on his back and coveres in ammunition belts. His red beard and shadowed face contrasted against the bright green Kentucky forest. The sun sure was happy today.
"Its time."
He handed an article to Jimmy. "Money for Nothing, Hell is Free". Jimmy recoiled. "The US army in conjunction with A coalition of military forces will be scaling an assault on hell in the next coming weeks. President Trump remarked that this is a 'huge opportunity for all americans who want to strike it big. Theres so much out there. Im telling you people, go. We will protect you. Become rich. Your only going to make a billion dollars if you take risks, believe me.'"
Jimmy smiled at Darel, "I like Trump". Darel nodded with great energy then continued looking at the paper excited to hear more.
"The US military enacting a tactic known as 'Community Fortification'. All US citizens are invited to participate, and if selected will be instrumental to ensuring a peaceful and prosperous coexistance between hell and earth. You will be given food, water, free travel and all necessities required to mine and provide for your family."
Jimmy stared off into the ground. Years of sacrifice and jealousy started to burn. The image of a 3 story house in nebraska. Having lemonade with Warren Buffet. Going down to hell and seeing demons mine his plot of land. Being invited to white house and given a medal for bravery.
"Kids! Pack your bags! We're going to hell!" | 2016-12-10T08:25:45 | 2016-12-10T08:04:09 | 117 | 10 |
[WP] 2021: Hell invades Earth; 2022: Earth invades Hell. | When they first rose from that damnable abyss we scattered like ants across the surface of the globe, but we didn't hide forever. Even within the first weeks those with weapons would conduct hit and run tactics against the ever encroaching army while those in charge attempted to put together a more suitable strategy. Sure there were people who would shout and scream till they were blue in the face trying to convince us that god was the only one who could save us, but those prayers and pleas fell on deaf ears. God had truly abandoned us, but we were no longer the scared and helpless world we were before. We had rifles to gun them down, missiles to lay waste to their army, and the same amount of mercy they showed us.
It didn't take long for us to push them back just as hard as they pushed us, but no matter the encounter we suffered losses. By the time a full year had passed we were sure we would lose. Hopelessly, and with no where left to turn we prayed to God once more, but it wasn't him who answered the call for help. When we saw our soldiers charge from out the hellish maw that their armies advanced from our first thoughts turned to betrayal. It was only when our allies began to commence flanking attacks on the demons and devils that we knew we had them beat. Who was to watch over the slave pits when you needed every available troop to stop the marching advances of humanity?
In the end, it wasn't just our former allies that rose from hell to push back the devils, but every soul ever sentenced to pain and agony for the crimes they had committed. We became brutal, engaging in suicide attacks every time we charged forwards. Death could not contain us, and every man and woman who fell on the battlefield came marching out of that fiery gate. Our fallen invading Hell from within. Even Satan could not beat us, we bathed him in nuclear fire until the only thing left was a puddle of radioactive sludge. We had no fear of using these weapons of destruction anymore. There was agony, but life for us was eternal.
In the end we had proved that our numbers, and our savage human nature had won out over the forces of hell. There was no one preaching love anymore, love and piousness hadn't won the war. With our last great enemy defeated, we grew restless, we needed more. We all stood in hell, surrounding Satan's toppled throne when we made the decision to keep our endless march moving forward. We as one turned our eyes to sky, marched out of that portal, and in 2023 we invaded heaven. | Only five years prior no one would imagine a single global government or that a burgeoning 8 billion soul population would be savaged to half of that with whole regions of Earth completely depopulated. Evil had come to Earth and wore continental Europe as a cloak of flesh, initially in the form of renew desires and push for glory day empires of bending the riches of Asia, the Americas and Africa to the whim and will of European masters. Then a sudden assault as the Mastery of Europe turned the Eastern seaboard of the People's Republic of China into irradiated glass and ash which was decried by the world and dislocated alliances particularly NATO. The global community knew not what to do. A U.N. summit became the show piece in the truth of matter when all the representatives from Europe were torn to shreds as their hosts stepped through into this dimensional reality. Terrible beings of dripping black hatred tore the screaming delegates into wet heaps of quivering flesh leaving the Secretary-General as their final offering to their dark hell master. Secretary-General Jerrick of Singapore was flayed alive and pinned to the wall with the broken bones of the delegates their entrails used as arcane sigils to keep the devastated man alive. Terrible creatures appeared in every country around the world and pulled those of executive power through cracks in reality and straight into hell. In a few short hours the whole of the Earth was without any formal leadership.
Overnight a darkness enveloped the Old World as Hell dropped it's cloak of flesh and subjugated their mortals. Demonic beings and monsters of stories began to roam the hellscape. Then they went to war.
However disturbing and vile this new unreality was. No matter what the truth of it, were they aliens or was hell real does that mean heaven is real and an Angelic host was on it's way. There were no angels but there was something that Hell did not account for. The readiness and willingness of the remaining human population to wage war. In one short year humanity with the full vigour and mechanical horror of it's industrialised war machine had taken the European hellscape and turned into a moonscape, led by both oceanic fleets of the United States Navy supported by every nation's military capable of getting to Europe to fire a weapon. Massive armies of volunteers from Africa urged on by preachers and pastors met their brothers and sisters in arms from the middle and far Asia with weapons churned out by the immense American industrial complex.to wage a holy war to put Hell down.
The forces of Evil had no defence against such incredible amount of munitions, towering flesh beasts of tooth and horn that once put Ancient Hebrew warriors to flight were too slow and too big to avoid being turned to mist by small arms fire. Gargantuan fire breathing dragons littered the ground, their delicate wings chewed up by Australian joint strike fighters, and imps trying to hold the weapons of men began to decorate the belts of Ghurkha soldiers avenging the now dead British Isles.
A year and Hell was beaten into submission unable to wage war like the mortals they had intended to intimidate. A new world government was formed of the remaining leaders, and quickly sought to investigate the matter of retaliation whilst clean up of Europe took place. Every unholy altar was torn down, every idol destroyed and the whole place cleansed with fire and hammer and plastic explosive. In Bielefeld Germany a Aperture to hell was found. Science and engineering had quickly found means of following demonic energy and even was beginning to understand how it worked in the real world. Experts met and theories explored and ultimately it was discovered just as the hosts of hell could march into the world, the wrath of mankind could go back in. The decision was rapidly made and preparations for this new incursion were funded with the globes best warriors and hunters from the retaking of Europe called in to be fitted up for war once again. The South Sudan Snake Killers, a irregular force who won notoriety their unique approach for dealing with enslaved cultists and their masters volunteered early and with good cause to take the fight to hell. The New Iberian Moors made up of Moroccan troopers who liberated the Spanish peninsula also were picked. Finally the United South American warriors of Christ one of whom had bested the Anti-Pope in Rome in a dual were given their marching orders, singing hymns all the way to Germany.
The year was 2022 and mankind had reached the shores of Hell to kill the Devil and avenge the Dead.
Author note: It should be said i borrowed a lot of stuff from the world built by /u/Atimo3 over in r/worldbuilding. They did a stack load of really good work and it just seems to fit in this prompt. I took some massive liberties with what they made to suit my needs but credit is still due to them. | 2016-12-10T08:16:31 | 2016-12-10T08:01:30 | 99 | 27 |
[WP] You're the advisor to the Pharoahs who first convinced them that they should definitely build giant pyramids. | “Giant...triangles?”
“Th...that’s right, Pharaoh,” I said, a bit nervous. He wasn’t taking it as well as I’d hoped.
He tilted his head a bit quizzically, “Ambassador, you know I appreciate the insight you bring from you kingdom,” he paused and seemed to think intensely, “what did you say it was again?”
“Err...Europe,” I said, hoping I didn’t come off as suspicious. I really shouldn’t have slept through the briefing.
“Right,” The Pharaoh said, narrowing his eyes, “Europe...But what purpose, precisely, does this giant triangle serve?”
“It is of course,” I said loading as much pomp and ceremony into my voice as possible, “a long-lasting testament to your glory,and moreover, the height shall bring you closer to the heavens, and closer to the Gods!”
“I see,” he said, massaging his chin, “I certainly see the glory of it, the respect it would command. Though the afterlife part of it seems like fantasy to be frank. The heavens are thousands of miles up in the air, what does a few hundred feet bridge?”
Huh. I had no idea humans possessed this level of reasoning. Thinking fast I quickly laughed. “Of course, Pharaoh. You know that, I know that. But what of the fools who visit your Kingdom. Feed them false tales, and look how they pour in to say the stairways to heaven.” The Pharaoh suddenly grinned and I knew I had him. “And of course you-”
“Charge them a fee!” The Pharaoh finished emphatically. “My, my ambassador this is truly genius! Such an undertaking not only immortalizes my name but invigorates our economy!” The his smile quickly faded, “but the logistics of it, it is far too massive of an undertaking.”
I fought to keep a manic grin off my face. We had it! We could establish the telecommunication array here, and the humans would give us the land for free. “Not to worry, Pharaoh, us Europeans will provide the building blocks and the machines, you need only provide the labor.”
The Pharaoh’s eyes narrowed in suspicion once again. “Why this kindness, why give us this idea and provide us these blocks? What’s in it for you?”
Again, it seems we had grossly underestimated human intelligence.
“We of course will sell the blocks to you, Pharaoh, you did not actually believe we would give them for free?” It was a gamble, but I laughed.
A jumble of emotions flickered on his face, and for a moment I thought he would have me thrown out for daring to laugh at the Pharaoh. I sighed inwardly, there goes my promotion. But either I imagined it or he hid it, and the outrage faded, to be replaced with a smile, and my hearts started beating again. “Of course not, ambassador. That is perfectly reasonable. Just one question, what are these machines you speak of? How will we build the high points of the pyramid?
I suppose there was no way around it. This would likely be forgotten before any real recording of history began anyways. “Well we have these saucers that are capable of flight...”
***
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| FADE IN:
INT. A PHARAOH'S THRONE ROOM - DAY
*A man in a tall headdress lounges on an enormous cushion. The is THE PHARAOH. He is surrounded by ATTENDANTS and GUARDS, many of whom look rather bored.*
**ARCHITECT:** (*O.S.*) Good morning, sir!
*Everyone turns to look as an overly cheerful man struts into the throne room. This is THE ARCHITECT. A guard steps forward to block his path.*
**GUARD:** Oi! What do you think you're doing?
**ARCHITECT:** I'm going to speak to the Pharaoh.
**GUARD:** You can't do that! "Speak to the Pharaoh?" He's a god, he is!
**ARCHITECT:** Ah. Yes. I see your point.
*The guard nods, satisfied, and goes back to his original position. When he turns around, he sees the architect kneeling next to a pillar.*
**GUARD:** ... Now what are you doing?
**ARCHITECT:** Praying, sir!
**GUARD:** "Praying?"
**ARCHITECT:** Well, as you rightly state, the Pharaoh is a god, so...
**GUARD:** (*Interrupting*) You can't pray in here! This is the Pharaoh's house!
**ARCHITECT:** Is that a problem, sir?
**GUARD:** Too right, it's a problem! Praying in the Pharaoh's house? You might bother him!
**PHARAOH:** Oh, just let the man through.
*The guard glares at the architect, but ushers him over to the Pharaoh.*
**ARCHITECT:** Thank you, sir.
**PHARAOH:** What do you want?
**ARCHITECT:** I'm afraid it's about the pyramids, sir.
**PHARAOH:** Stop that.
**ARCHITECT:** Stop what, sir?
**PHARAOH:** That! Stop that! You don't call pharaohs "sir."
**ARCHITECT:** Right you are, great one, he who is the living embodiment of Ra on Earth and...
**GUARD:** (*Interrupting*) Right, that does it. Come on, you.
*The guard grabs the architect by the arm and starts dragging him away.*
**ARCHITECT:** (*Urgently*) They're going to fall down!
*The guard stops moving. The Pharaoh stands up from his cushion.*
**PHARAOH:** "Fall down?" What, the pyramids?
**ARCHITECT:** Yes, sir.
**PHARAOH:** Pyramids can't "fall down." They're the most structurally stable shape in existence!
**ARCHITECT:** Not quite, sir.
**PHARAOH:** What are you talking about?
**ARCHITECT:** Speaking quite frankly, sir, a flat plane would be more stable.
*One of the attendants rolls her eyes.*
**ATTENDANT:** You haven't seen him knock plates over.
*The Pharaoh makes a motion with his hand. The guard walks toward the attendant, approaching with a menacing look on his face. Several seconds of tense silence pass.*
**GUARD:** Shut up.
**ATTENDANT:** Sorry.
**PHARAOH:** Right. Don't do it again.
**ARCHITECT:** We need to do something, sir!
*The Pharaoh rubs his forehead with an exasperated look on his face.*
**PHARAOH:** Look, what do you suggest we do? You're the one who sold us on these pyramids in the first place.
**ARCHITECT:** Convert them all to flat planes.
**PHARAOH:** You can't bury people in a flat plane.
**GUARD:** You could if you used the word "plane" in an anachronistic context.
*Every stares at the guard.*
**GUARD:** Sorry. This idiocy seems to be catching.
**PHARAOH:** You know what to do, guard.
*The guard nods, looking somber. He draws his sword and holds it in front of his face. His grip tightens on the hilt.*
**GUARD:** (*To his reflection*) Shut up.
*The Pharaoh nods, then turns his attention back to the architect.*
**PHARAOH:** Are there any other options?
**ARCHITECT:** Ah, I'm glad you asked, sir! We should build a giant sphinx.
**PHARAOH:** A what?
**ARCHITECT:** A sphinx, sir. It's like a large, cat-like creature with the face of a...
**PHARAOH:** (*Interrupting*) I know what a sphinx is! Why would we build one, though? Here you are, telling me that pyramids are too unstable, and now you want to build a giant cat?!
**ARCHITECT:** Yes, sir! It's the only viable option.
**PHARAOH:** How is *that* a viable option?! If the pyramids are doomed to "fall down," why would a *giant sphinx* be any different?!
**ARCHITECT:** Well, sir, it would still fall down, but it wouldn't matter.
**PHARAOH:** Why not?
**ARCHITECT:** Cats always land on their feet, sir.
*Nobody says anything for a moment.*
**GUARD:** Shut up.
FADE OUT. | 2017-02-05T09:37:46 | 2017-02-05T09:24:07 | 262 | 86 |
[WP] A young farmer leaves home to sign up as another faceless soldier in the Evil Overlord's army. The farmer's adventures on the way make the Overlord very worried. | The Overlord wasn't particularly fond of these sorts of things. For all the evil he'd done in the world, it seemed somehow *wrong*. In a deeply uncomfortable way, not the usual laughably absurd way.
He sank down in his chair as his generals shifted nervously and looked down at their notes. He could hear every sizzle of lava in the pool behind him. He sat bolt upright in his chair when the door opened, barely catching the skull goblet he disrupted.
The person of the hour walked through with two demons pulling treasure chests behind her. "Overlord," she called, "My mission was a success." Her eyes gleamed as she opened up the chests to reveal gold and jewels in one, the other a dead body.
The Overlord cleared his throat and looked at his generals. Then, he boomed as softly as he could, "Maria, please take a seat." He gestured to an open seat at the very end on the long table. She blinked, then sat down, her feet not quite touching the floor. "Please close the doors on your way out," he told the demons as he waved at them to leave.
"Am I in trouble?" She was already starting to look upset, so the Overlord waved his hand.
"No, you're not in trouble," he paused and looked down at his notes, clearing his throat, "Maria, over the last several months, you have been a joy to our armies here. Some of your recent behavior has made us all concerned. We are all your friends and just want the best for you, so we gathered here today with the help of Dr. Chaos," here he nodded to the therapist on his left. "We have come up with a plan to get you help and consequences if you refuse them."
Maria started to protest, but the Overlord cut her off, "Maria, you have pillaged and burned down several villages."
She frowned, "They raised armies against us."
"You single-handedly drown a nest of dragon hatchlings. You fed their meat to their own mother."
She shook her head emphatically, "Their parents were part of the resistance! They wiped out a whole town of dark elves!"
"You enslaved an entire species of pixies."
She started again, "They were useful!"
"Then, eradicated them when they no longer proved useful, causing them to go extinct."
She went quiet and looked at her hands. The Overlord clasped his own together in front of him, leaning forward. "You have made me very proud, Maria, but also very concerned. Where are your parents?"
She kicked her feet and replied glumly, "Resistance killed them. Siblings, too."
The Overlord nodded slowly. "We thought something like that might have happened," he shouted as gently as possible.
"Please don't kick me out! I can do better!" She was starting to cry.
The Overlord looked to Dr. Chaos and his generals for strength and took a deep breath, "Maria, you won't be allowed on any more missions."
She covered her face and croaked, "Why?"
"Maria, you're twelve. You need to be in school!" He hadn't meant to shout loudly enough to cause the lava to flare up, and winced.
Maria looked up defiantly, "You're racist! I'm a gnome!"
The Overlord shook his head, "That may have worked before you hit your growth spurt, but we need you to be honest."
She sniffed and rubbed at her face, "Sorry I lied. The officers wouldn't let me help otherwise."
The Overlord sighed and General Diana handed Maria a handkerchief. "It's not so bad, Maria," Diana menaced as kindly as she was capable of.
"What's not bad about it?" She grumbled into the lacy rag, rubbing at her face.
"Well," The Overlord started, "I've been having trouble producing an heir. General Michael and I are very busy adults often leading armies in different places. We can't ever agree on which woman would be the best to be blessed by our choosing." The Overlord took his partner's hand in a rare display of public affection.
General Harold gasped and grabbed General Ted by the shoulder, hissing, "I told you so!"
The Overlord gave him a dirty look while several of the older generals tried not to cackle.
General Michael nodded, ignoring the interruption, "We decided an heir just needs to carry on the legacy we started when we overthrew the empire. We both finally came to an agreement. Maria, would you give us the honor of being our daughter?"
Maria blinked, looking at all the adults in the room, then hauled herself onto the table and ran across it, giving them both a big hug. Though, mindful of the spikes on their armor. "Yes!" She jumped back and jumped up and down on the table.
She paused, "But I can still go on missions, right?"
The Overlord started to protest, but General Michael began before him, "If you do well in school, we'll discuss it."
A few days later, the generals threw the new family an adoption party.
---
EDIT: Did a small continuation on [this prompt](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/5x93cm/wp_you_used_to_be_the_most_powerful_evil_overlord/?st=IZU0N8L5&sh=e4b51343) if anyone is curious. | *The Overlord wishes to see you in his chamber immediately.*
I blink down at the words, printed in emotionless black ink on the white card which fell from the envelope which the masked guard has handed me. I suppose that "masked guard" doesn't really describe much- seeing as everyone is masked- but there isn't much else that sticks out. Just like everyone, he has had the honor of becoming one of the Faceless: the Overlord's soldiers. Every time I see one of the masks, I feel another pang of longing for the day that I will get my mask.
"To what do I owe the honor?" I ask the guard.
"The Overlord does not need to give a reason." The voice responds from behind the mask. "Come with me."
He turns, and I follow him obediently from my small room, leaving Sam snoring in the bunk above mine. He hasn't woken up since we got here, and that makes sense. We had one hell of a journey.
The guard turns corners and walks down stairs, leading me deeper into the maze of the Grand Castle. It's the largest, most important building in all of Kazor. It is here where the Overlord observes us all, watches out for us, *protects us*. I lose count of the time as we go deeper. Finally, the guard stops in front of a nondescript wall and holds up his hand. I stop and wait.
"Walk forward." The guard orders. I blink.
"Into the wall?"
"Look again."
I turn my attention to the wall- but it's no longer a wall. Two sets of jet black doors, embellished with gold, have been set in the stone.
"Go."
I don't need to be told three times. I step forward and open the door. Mutely, I step into the enormous room. The ceiling arches high overhead, and the walls glitter with gold ornaments. Piles of treasure lie on the floor, and candles float in midair on the sides of room. A throne sits at the far end of the room. On instinct, I fall to my knees and bow my head.
"*Rise.*" The voice is ancient, but so powerful I feel my body tremble slightly.
"Oh great Overlord," I say softly, getting to my feet. "To what do I owe this honor?"
"*Are you Silver Freeman?*"
"Yes." I nod, clasping my hands together. As I stare at the throne, I realize why I'm not seeing anything. What I thought was one throne is actually two, set back to back. The Overlord is sitting in the one facing away from me.
"*Silver Freeman, are you a farmer?*"
"I was!" I say excitedly. "I want to become one of the Faceless--!"
"*SILENCE.*"
"My apologies." I take a deep breath, looking at my feet again.
"*Silver Freeman.*" He repeats my name like an incantation. "*Could you please describe your journey here?*"
"Of course!" I sputter. I think for a second, and then start at the beginning. "I left home about two weeks ago and started for the Grand Castle. I only made it to the mountain range at the edge of my village before I encountered a bunch of madmen who claimed that the Overlord had destroyed their families and killed thousands of innocents. I told them off and stayed in an inn for the night, but when I woke up I heard a commotion outside. When I went to investigate, I was knocked out and awoke in the back of a large cart, chained to the men from the bar."
"*Continue.*" The Overlord intones emotionlessly.
"Well, they carted us to this quarry that I'd never seen before. There were hundreds of men at work, and they were all trying to unearth this great statue, but they'd only gotten the head out. I started to work, but I realized that the Overlord would have wanted me to be brave. I broke out that night, and I went to destroy the statue."
"*Did you?*"
"No." The word slips out of my mouth, and I realize it's a lie. I am lying to the greatest man in Kazor. "I only destroyed the head."
"*Did you find anything?*" For the first time, there's an emotion in the voice. It sounds... excited. No- *hungry*.
"No." Again, the lie comes out, and I try to correct myself, but my tongue seems to be made of stone.
"*Nothing?*"
My mind flashes to the necklace, hidden in my rucksack in my room. The face of the dragon on it glitters in my mind's eye. "Nothing." I say.
"*What happened next?*"
"I ran." I shrug. "I ran and made it through the mountains. I met my roommate- Sam Jinx- and a few of the other Faceless candidates along the way, and I had to run from some pretty nasty innkeepers, but that's about it."
"*Mmm.*" The voice considers these words. When it speaks again, the tone is so casual that I know something is off. "*Have you been having any dreams?*"
I should have known that this question was coming. Dreaming is forbidden in Kozar. If you have any dreams pertaining to the Overlord, you can be sentenced to death. Luckily, I've lied once before.
"No!" I force my voice to become offended. "Dreaming is freakish."
"*Very wise.*" The Overlord is silent again. "*I hope I do not see you again soon, Silver Freeman. It may be on very... different terms.*"
The doors open behind me, and I feel the hands of two guards as they pull me from the room. My mind reels all the way back up the stairs and through the halls, the conversation aching in my head. When I reach the room again, the guards leave. Sam is sitting on the bed, her boots laced up, waiting for me.
"Silver!" She gets up, looking terrified. Her hazel hair curls at the ends, and her blue eyes cut through my distress. "I heard you met the Overlord!"
"Yeah." I nod shortly. "I did."
"Woah." She plops down on the bed. "Was it awesome?"
"You could say that." I say slowly. *That's the problem,* I muse silently as I go to my drawer. Sam has started to talk of how she wishes she was there, but I'm absorbed in my own thoughts. *I want to think that, but it wasn't awesome. It was scary.*
*I thought I might die.* The thought is there and then gone.
"I'll meet you in the dining hall." I say to Sam. She nods, and walks from the room. Checking to make sure that she's gone, I pull the necklace out from my bag. The large diamond has a dolomite dragon wrapped around it, it's obsidian scales and eyes glinting. Without thinking, I tuck the dragon necklace around my neck, hiding it under my shirt. *Today should be interesting.*
***
"My lord?"
"*That boy must be watched.*"
"Do you mean--?"
"*Watch him. If he changes, if he has taken the Voice of the Ancients- it will spell our demise.*"
Four voices echo the sentiment:
"Yes, my lord."
"It shall be done."
"Let him die."
"He will not escape our vision."
Let me know if you want me to continue it, this is the longest response to a writing prompt I've ever tried :D. | 2017-03-02T12:59:09 | 2017-03-02T12:50:15 | 56 | 20 |
[WP]You are a Demon hiding amongst humans. 2 Problems, young children and dogs can perceive your original form, And Your girlfriend is starting to notice them noticing. | **Edited** 10:55: Couple words. Removed a sentence. Added a bit more because I felt one line was coming off as me preaching.
*Story*
The end of my happy relationship was about to come. This wonderful woman I met, Jennifer, was finally ready for me to meet her son.
I'm not a child hater, you see, I love children. It's the fact that I used to be a very, very bad boy. So bad, in fact, that my previous go around on earth ended with me getting some one on one time with the Lord of Darkness himself, Satan.
Satan told me he was a big fan of my work on earth. He was a big fan of how I murdered those 14 women. How much he loved how I drowned that one kid that number 7 was babysitting.
But I wasn't proud of myself. In fact, I didn't feel much of anything on earth besides a burning hatred for everything. My childhood was unpleasant. From what my foster parents told me, I lost my virginity at age 3. But I don't want to bore you with that. After my mandatory 10 years of excruciating torture, which only made me hate more, Satan sent me to earth with the goal of causing as much destruction as I possibly could, with a specific focus on churches.
And I followed his absolute greatness of all that is dark, Lucifer, for many years.
But after being around people that seemed legitimately happy, and healthy, for 162 years, I began feeling something I had never felt before. Peace. I realized that everywhere I went people were smiling. People were always smiling, I was just never looking for it before. I began to think differently. When I bumped into someone, if they fell, I wouldn't laugh at them anymore. I wouldn't offer my hand, pull them up halfway, and then drop them again anymore. I didn't go out of my way to push kids into the street anymore.
Satan may be a powerful master in hell, but he has very little influence here on earth. All of the bad things that happen here are created by human beings. So in the rare instances a demon turns, or the much more common instance of dying (we are immortal NOT invincible), Satan could do very little to stop us, and after I exterminated 12 demons, he stopped wasting his energy on me.
As the years went on I began doing volunteer work in 3rd world countries, and in more recent years, I came back to America to help the place I wronged the most. It was here that I met Jennifer, and fell in love with Jennifer. Beautiful, sweet Jennifer. Here's the problem, most children can see my burned form. To them I look like something out of a zombie movie, and they were all terrified of me.
But I put it off too many times. Hell, maybe I'd get lucky and her son would be blind? Probably not.
Now here I was, outside the door of the love of my life, my heart (or the sensation of a heart) was pounding so loudly I couldn't hear anything else. I lifted my hand to knock when a little boy, roughly 5 years old, opened the door. He had a Gameboy (is that what they're called?) in his hands, he glanced up at me for a second, took in the sight (I winced at it, as if he shined a light in my eyes), and looked back down at his Gameboy, and yelled "Mom, some guy with a halo over his head is at the door."
| "Baby, this is crazy talk! I swear all that was just a coincidence. I mean, come on, just listen to yourself, for Chri- ugh, crud's sake", exclaimed Saa'roq, or as he was known by his human alias, Seth.
His girlfriend, Natalie, looking flustered, crossed her arms. They were smack-dab in the middle of an argument in their living room. In her anger, it was almost amusing for Seth to note just how much she resembled his kind. And now, he wondered whether he had ruined her life by entering it. Guilt was typically shamed in demonic society. That just went to show how much he had changed, ever since he began masquerading as one of what his people called "mud-dolls".
"Hello, are you even listening to me?" snapped Natalie, bringing him out of his reverie. "Seth, I told myself I was going crazy. That there's no way something's off, that maybe you just smell funny to dogs and something about your body language seems off to little kids, which is why they're afraid of you. But all it took for my nephew to burst into tears yesterday was one look at you. I know this seems stupid, but I've been noting weird things like this for as long as I've been with you."
Seth made sure he made an incredulous expression, the one he had practiced the most, as he said, "What are you even trying to say, Nat? That I'm, what, some kind of ghost that only babies and dogs can see? Pfft"
Natalie quietly said, "No, babe, of course not. But I have known you long enough to know you're hiding something. I just can't shake that feeling, and I've ignored it long enough. I love you, Seth. I really do. But if you truly love me too, and don't wanna lose me, I need you to be honest with me. Or else, as much as it pains me to say this, I can't do this anymore."
Natalie's lips quivered as she spoke. His fiery heart wrenching, Seth said nothing. He couldn't. He looked away, breathing a sigh. Every atom of his being was screaming, telling her not to leave, wanting to bring her close, hold her and never let go. The fact that he was a demon and she, a human, meant nothing to him. He genuinely, sincerely, and honestly, loved her. Seth wondered if his girlfriend was ready for the truth, a truth he had never planned of ever unearthing. He then decided, that either she would never be ready, or already was.
"Nat, I...", he trailed off, voice breaking. He couldn't believe himself. A fire-borne brought to his knees by a human girl. By love. It was like Santa Claus working on his tan in the Bahamas. It was unnatural, dammit. But, it was real.
He finally said "I love you too. I've loved you ever since I first saw you. And that was before I was ever even a human."
Natalie gave a smile, and jokingly said "I appreciate that, babe, but this isn't the best time for one of your cheesy love quotes."
Seth took a deep breath, and said "No, I'm not talking about that 'souls meant for each other' crap, I literally mean, I'm not a human. I'm a demon, Natalie."
"Seth, wha-"
"Natalie, please, just listen, okay? I am not a human being. I've been disguised as a human all this time. All that weird stuff you noticed, this is why. And why exactly would a demon want to live as a human for the past three years, you ask? You, Natalie. You're the reason why. I love you to hell and back."
Natalie eyed him as if he might belong in a nuthouse.
With a sigh, Seth said, "Look, I'm not crazy, I can prove it. Just promise you won't freak out."
And with that, he promptly lit a match from a nearby drawer, and held it under his palm. To him it felt cool. He was, of course, made of a much stronger brew himself.
"Fire doesn't hurt me", he said.
"Jesus, Seth", said Natalie, shocked.
Seth winced, and said "I'd rather you not say that name. It just makes me really uncomfortable."
Natalie opened and closed her mouth a number of times. "S-so you, you've been living among us all this time, fo-for me?" she mumbled.
"Yes", he said softly. "I had a life of my own before, a place. But once I met you, I knew it was nothing compared to the one I wanted to build by your side."
For a few moments which seemed like a lifetime, Natalie said nothing. Until she did.
"I was gonna ask you why you never told me, but that's kinda self-explanatory. You were scared of, well, scaring me off, weren't you?"
Seth nodded. When she took his hand, his heart soared. He felt relieved beyond comparison.
Natalie said softly, "I don't care. We'll make this, whatever this is, work".
Seth's voice was barely a whisper as he asked, "How do you know?"
She then smiled and said, "Because I feel exactly the same way about you as before".
Natalie kissed him, and it seemed for but a moment, that somehow, a demon was in heaven. | 2017-04-02T13:06:47 | 2017-04-02T12:58:26 | 38 | 11 |
[WP] You die and go to Hell only to find out that you're the only person that has ever entered. Satan is clapping. | “You’re here. Finally. I was getting sick of you living.
You were truly pathetic when you were alive, I hope that will change soon enough because I’ve been told I am going to need you.”
The devil spoke in a way you couldn’t tell his emotions if he had any. His voice was steady and when he spoke your attention was drawn towards him, towards his silhouette which gained more and more contrast and detail.
At this point, the surroundings were visible as well. It was a forest, we were in a forest, only the two of us. It had all emerged in the time the devil took to welcome me, it had happened slowly, but also undeniably fast. I did not remember what there was before the forest was there, it was like it had always been there.
The devil was sitting on a log, facing the bonfire which was placed in the middle of a circle of logs. It was dark, and the only light was from this fire, yet it didn’t seem scary, instead, it actually looked quite warm and cozy.
While approaching the devil, he went on.
“You’re the first person who has ever come here. I’ve redecorated it not too long ago.”
He looked up as I sat down on a tree stump near the fire. His eyes were humanlike, just like his posture, but there was something off about the way his hands were folded into each other. He was leaning forward to the fire, with his elbows on his knees. His hood was covering his face, which made the shadows dance on his face. His eyes were so bright, you could even see them through the shadows, dancing on his pale face. He looked sad but in a majestic way.
Even in this small position, there was an aura of power around him.
I held my hands closer to the flames, the palms facing forwards. It was warm. His eyes fixated on the fire again.
“Do make yourself at home, you won’t be leaving here anytime soon.
You know, I like that you are not asking the obvious question. The ‘where am I?’, ‘What happened?’ and the ‘How did I die?’
Although, it may not be just you. You are not here to speak, for once I don’t want to hear the screams of yet another soul, haunted by its evil self, getting the punishment for the wrong he couldn’t stop doing.
Your punishment is different, but you have figured that out already, haven’t you?
You’re not as stupid as you presented yourself when you were alive. When you begged for attention, walking from one psychologist to the other. It is not that hard to figure out what your punishment would be, after a life of self-pity and self-proclaimed misery.
In your life, you whined about your misery to every person walking by. In your death, you will listen to all the misery I encounter.
And trust me, I have a lot to talk about.”
| I entered Hell whistling merrily.
I don't think I could call this a surprise. I'm a downright horrible bastard. "You think they'd hire you?" I wondered to myself. "It sure beats getting tortured for all eternity."
"That does sound nice," I agreed. "It might be nice to spend all of eternity with a job at least, a calling you could grow into. Perhaps a corner office - nothing too fancy. You don't want to get too big for your boots, do you? You don,t want to become one of those fat cat bosses who sat around and yelled and coudn't put in an honest days work in if they had to. We hate those people don't we?"
"Yes," I agreed with myself then shivered remembering some of the... unpleasantness, I'd visited on a few Big Boot Corner Offices.
The place was huge, cavernous, open and wide, with great lakes and pools amd jets of lava casting an eerie red glow on the landscape. An eerie silence filled the sulphurous air. The landscape was barren of life. My spirit lifted. No sounds of torture. Perhaps Hell wouldn't be so bad. Though, that probably meant employment opportunities would be limited as well.
I chuckled. You win some, you lose some.
I crested a ride and stopped short. In the middle of the place, at the centre of hell a broken-down real-estate office calmly burnt.
"Well, *that* figures," I groaned.
********
I walked into Hell's office and found the Devil asleep.
I sighed then poked.
"Wakey, wakey," I prodded, "I'm here for the job interview. A right bastard, I am."
"What job interview?" yawned the Devil. His eyes were yellow and strained with tiredness and reddenes with boredom. There was a gleam to them - an inhuman glint. Bugger, I thought.
"Apprentice, perhaps?"
"Apprentice to what?
"To you?" I tried. Might as well go big.
The Devil, yawned, rising from his burning desk.
"So, long," he muttered to himself. His eyes flickered bloodshot and red for a moment. Not the best start to a job interview then. Then again I've had worse. "And what are your talents?" he continued smoothly.
"I'm a hard worker, sir. Not too proud to do an honnest day's work. I've always been one of the boys. I'm companionable like. A team player. I'd be a dab hand at the punishment side of things. I have a few ideas you might like."
"Punishment?" The Devil smirked. "That's my favorite subject. I think about it all the time."
"Yeah, I'm good with the ironing, iron eye, that things in the Alanis Morissette song where she sings it wrong."
"Oh, that," smirked the Devil. "That'll be useful I'm sure."
"You're in."
My heart sank. I felt dread, not relief.
"In for what?" I asked cautiously.
"An eternity if toeture and suffering. You're my first. MY FIRST. You're the first to have ever arrived here."
Well bloody hell.
********
"So, no staffing shortfall then?"
"None," smiled the Devil. The glint was getting larger. "Nobody's come for millennia. I've been waiting. Patiently."
"Ah, wouldn't want to spoil a record like that then."
"It would be a shame, really."
The Devil smiled - wickedly. He extended out a claw and tapped my heart.
"I'd best be off then," I squeeked.
"On, no stay a while. God's been so unkind to me. It's all his fault really. He made me and now I have no way to fulfill my evil..." He savored the word. " purpose. I have so many things we could... try."
"I'd like that. I really would but perhaps another time?"
I scampered backwards.
"On, no I insist," said the Devil. He was behind me, grinning, grinning, grinning. "Whips, and chains, and pains. Delicious fire."
"Uh, perhaps It's not the done things and all? Seeing as how I'm the first and all. Perhaps we could yry something else?"
"We all need to start somewhere," he said softly.
"But-"
"OH, SHUT UP." The Devil yelled. Fire spat out from him and I leapt back, imto his desk, smashing my back. *Ouch*, I whimpered.
Then he came for me. He picked me up.
"I HAVE A LIST AND EVERYTHING. FUN AND GAMES WILL BE HAD."
"Fun and games. Yes," I said softly. As on Earth, so in the heavens it seemed. I found myself empty of jokes.
"Yes, fun and games will be had..." the devil paused. "What is your name, First One?"
"I'm Lucifer, Jeremy." I answered staring into the distance. A damn list! "You can just call me Lou," I finished as kindly as I could.
| 2017-06-22T06:13:16 | 2017-06-22T06:00:59 | 65 | 17 |
[WP] You die and go to Hell only to find out that you're the only person that has ever entered. Satan is clapping. | "Dibs." I cried out over the Devil's clapping and laughter. He didn't seem to hear me, so I screamed it again. "**Dibs!**"
The Devil stopped and looked at me. "What do you mean 'dibs'?" He blinked, a little confused by my reaction.
I looked around the vast vastness of Hell before turning to Lucifer once more. "Well, no one else has been here yet, right?" He nodded. "And that means there's no prior claim to Hell, right?" The Devil cocked his head at that. "I mean come on, you aren't actually in charge of Hell, you were just cast down here. Like, so we were told for millennia, all the other sinners. Hell isn't yours, it's just something you are watching over. Hence 'dibs'." I started off in a direction, figuring the conversation was done.
"Whoa whoa whoa, hold a second there buddy." The Devil spun me around, fire crackling in his eyes. "I'm the **Devil**! Prince of Darkness! Hell is mine! God had Micheal cast me down and, wait..." I nodded.
"See? You weren't actually cast into Hell. You were cast out of Paradise. So, once again I call dibs on Hell, and to further seal the deal," I undid my jeans and took a leak on the ground. "I've marked it. Bet you never did that, did you?" I zipped back up.
"I can't urinate, I lack the physical necessities for such!" The Devil whined.
I shrugged and began walking again. "No my problem, not my fault. Now, let's see what I can with my new place." As I walked I envisioned a castle, a palace fit for my rule. The power of Dibs was only further enhanced by marking my territory. Turrets erupted forth from the ground, and in moments my castle was done. I crossed the moat and made my way to the throne room. "Hmm, this isn't right." I looked around, then snapped my fingers. "Let's make this bad boy fly." And with just the though, the castle floated into the sky. When I finally sat down I found the Devil right on my heels. "What do you want?"
Lucifer toed the rich carpet sheepish. "First off, can I crash here? I haven't actually had a place to sleep in all this time." I rolled my eyes and sighed, but finally nodded. Lucifer practically beamed. "Awesome! Also, I gotta ask. How did you do *that*?"
I looked down at the Devil. "You want to know? Okay, I'll tell you the story of how my soul got flipped, turned upside down. It will take a minute so sit right there and I'll tell you how I became the prince of Hell's Air." | I entered Hell whistling merrily.
I don't think I could call this a surprise. I'm a downright horrible bastard. "You think they'd hire you?" I wondered to myself. "It sure beats getting tortured for all eternity."
"That does sound nice," I agreed. "It might be nice to spend all of eternity with a job at least, a calling you could grow into. Perhaps a corner office - nothing too fancy. You don't want to get too big for your boots, do you? You don,t want to become one of those fat cat bosses who sat around and yelled and coudn't put in an honest days work in if they had to. We hate those people don't we?"
"Yes," I agreed with myself then shivered remembering some of the... unpleasantness, I'd visited on a few Big Boot Corner Offices.
The place was huge, cavernous, open and wide, with great lakes and pools amd jets of lava casting an eerie red glow on the landscape. An eerie silence filled the sulphurous air. The landscape was barren of life. My spirit lifted. No sounds of torture. Perhaps Hell wouldn't be so bad. Though, that probably meant employment opportunities would be limited as well.
I chuckled. You win some, you lose some.
I crested a ride and stopped short. In the middle of the place, at the centre of hell a broken-down real-estate office calmly burnt.
"Well, *that* figures," I groaned.
********
I walked into Hell's office and found the Devil asleep.
I sighed then poked.
"Wakey, wakey," I prodded, "I'm here for the job interview. A right bastard, I am."
"What job interview?" yawned the Devil. His eyes were yellow and strained with tiredness and reddenes with boredom. There was a gleam to them - an inhuman glint. Bugger, I thought.
"Apprentice, perhaps?"
"Apprentice to what?
"To you?" I tried. Might as well go big.
The Devil, yawned, rising from his burning desk.
"So, long," he muttered to himself. His eyes flickered bloodshot and red for a moment. Not the best start to a job interview then. Then again I've had worse. "And what are your talents?" he continued smoothly.
"I'm a hard worker, sir. Not too proud to do an honnest day's work. I've always been one of the boys. I'm companionable like. A team player. I'd be a dab hand at the punishment side of things. I have a few ideas you might like."
"Punishment?" The Devil smirked. "That's my favorite subject. I think about it all the time."
"Yeah, I'm good with the ironing, iron eye, that things in the Alanis Morissette song where she sings it wrong."
"Oh, that," smirked the Devil. "That'll be useful I'm sure."
"You're in."
My heart sank. I felt dread, not relief.
"In for what?" I asked cautiously.
"An eternity if toeture and suffering. You're my first. MY FIRST. You're the first to have ever arrived here."
Well bloody hell.
********
"So, no staffing shortfall then?"
"None," smiled the Devil. The glint was getting larger. "Nobody's come for millennia. I've been waiting. Patiently."
"Ah, wouldn't want to spoil a record like that then."
"It would be a shame, really."
The Devil smiled - wickedly. He extended out a claw and tapped my heart.
"I'd best be off then," I squeeked.
"On, no stay a while. God's been so unkind to me. It's all his fault really. He made me and now I have no way to fulfill my evil..." He savored the word. " purpose. I have so many things we could... try."
"I'd like that. I really would but perhaps another time?"
I scampered backwards.
"On, no I insist," said the Devil. He was behind me, grinning, grinning, grinning. "Whips, and chains, and pains. Delicious fire."
"Uh, perhaps It's not the done things and all? Seeing as how I'm the first and all. Perhaps we could yry something else?"
"We all need to start somewhere," he said softly.
"But-"
"OH, SHUT UP." The Devil yelled. Fire spat out from him and I leapt back, imto his desk, smashing my back. *Ouch*, I whimpered.
Then he came for me. He picked me up.
"I HAVE A LIST AND EVERYTHING. FUN AND GAMES WILL BE HAD."
"Fun and games. Yes," I said softly. As on Earth, so in the heavens it seemed. I found myself empty of jokes.
"Yes, fun and games will be had..." the devil paused. "What is your name, First One?"
"I'm Lucifer, Jeremy." I answered staring into the distance. A damn list! "You can just call me Lou," I finished as kindly as I could.
| 2017-06-22T09:17:47 | 2017-06-22T06:00:59 | 23 | 17 |
[WP] After a freak accident sending you far back in time, somehow you make a new life for yourself. One day while whistling a tune from the future to yourself; someone joins in with the correct lyrics ... | The song played in my head, like it always did. Its atmospheric melody, lulling me, making my head bob almost imperceptibly. I whispered the lyrics, as I always did. It helped get me through the day.
*I seen a girl*
*With a guy*
*Her hair like yours*
*From what I remember*
I hefted the block, putting it on my shaky shoulders. I carried it through the hot sands, struggling with every step. I saw a fellow slave being whipped for collapsing nearby. The scars on my back still pained.
*He took her hand*
*And smiled her name*
*Her face like yours*
*She smiled the same*
It seemed a fitting punishment. Flung into the past, Forced to slave away my sanity. At least I knew my work would stand the test of time. And yet, the song was the only thing keeping me grounded to reality.
*From what I remember*
*"Been so long since last December"*
I looked up. That last line... I looked up at the carriage being carried across the desert landscape. The pharaoh sat inside, surveying the work being done to the pyramids.
And next to him... there she was.
It was her.
Singing the song. *My* song.
I stood there, dumbfounded. A whip lashed out next to me, and I turned to see the same slave driver that lashed me last week.
I hefted the block and carried on like nothing had happened. She was the pharaoh's wife, and I was a broken man.
It was better this way.
*It's been so long since last December* | The peaceful sky and the clean air was something I could never quite find in the city I lived in circa 2017.
I used to make fun of my parents for being so old and talking about the old days, telling them that technology ran the world now.
But now that I lived this quiet new life in the past, I can safely say that times were simpler then.
And because there was no technology to hold me in one of my holes, sans the phone I had in my pocket when I fell down that cliff, I was forced to actually move about and find myself.
I hadn't ever been productive or proud of myself, nor did I ever feel like I had anything to make me feel I deserved to continue living.
But when I found myself working for one of those old newspaper companies and trying to get a grasp on what went on with the world without Twitter, I think its safe to say I've found something to fill my empty heart.
But as a citizen of the modern day, I can't help but feel that homesick churn in my stomach, longing for the things I remembered as normal.
I missed my old hoodies, I missed the access the internet gave me, I miss the people I left behind. But most especially, I missed my music.
My phone's battery had long since died and it would probably take forever before I can plug it into something so I can charge it back.
At the very least... I had my memories.
As I traversed the town for anything of interest, rain drops began trickling down from the sky. Pedestrians fled for shelter and I was left alone under the shade of the closed down pub.
Rain reminded me of my favorite song. It reminded me of the future. It reminded me of my best friend. My best friend who killed himself.
"And when it rains... On this side of town it touches... Everything..."
I didn't even notice I started singing until I got to the chorus.
"And oh, how could you do it? Oh I, I never saw it coming.
Ohh, I need an ending, so why can't you stay just long enough to explain."
Paramore was his and my favorite band. Just three years before I got here, my best friend decided to end it all and this song was all I could ever listen to anymore.
"Take these chances to turn it around, just take these chances, we'll make it somehow."
And in beyond the rain's heavy pouring, I could hear it. That low, husky voice that brought warmth in this rain's cold weather.
"And take these chances, to turn it around. Just turn it around."
My eyes landed to the alleyway in front of me. In what must be the ugliest orange poncho and stupidest cowboy hat, that guy stood there, singing this song only I could possibly know.
"And oh. How could you do it?" I sang, but it sounded as if it were a real question as well. "Oh I never saw it coming."
My legs began moving and I'm running towards the figure.
He in that poncho moved back, being swallowed in the alleyway's darkness.
And he was gone. There was no one there anymore.
"You can take your time. Take my time."
Was it just a ghost? Was it just my deluded thoughts making me hear my dead best friend? Was it that small desire to return home that started to resurface?
I hung my head low, thankful for the rain to camouflage the tears that fell on my cheeks.
My eyes traveled to the hard ground and I found myself staring at a black, metal square.
On top, solar panels on it. A USB slot at it side. And a cord stuck on it.
And suddenly, maybe he wasn't a ghost after all.
The one fact that kept eluding my thoughts whenever I thought of him was....
That we never did find his body. | 2017-09-15T06:10:41 | 2017-09-14T23:09:14 | 50 | 12 |
[WP] You are a seemingly normal person, but with one uncanny ability; to see other people’s true intent. You become famous, revered by spy agencies, loathed by politicians. One afternoon, you meet someone else with this ability, and the world becomes terrified of you. | "But did you see the peninsula splitting into war?" He asked, looking straightforward at a place that hovered between the center of my skull and right through the wall behind me.
I had.
"No," I said, then donned what I imagined to be the weary face of a man who has tried to do good and has instead done evil. "No I thought that removing that corrupt tyrant would be a good thing."
There was a pause that hovered long enough for my worry to deepen before the man smiled, "well well, cant fault you for that, can we?"
"And who are we exactly?" I asked. "Seems to be I'm kind of hazy remembering that."
The man smiled and moved a white sheet of paper to the right on the table a few inches, "dont worry, your memory will return soon. As for who we are, who do you think we are? Maybe you could read my intention."
I had tried, and to the grinding horror of one who has just discovered that their best and only weapon has been taken from him, I found that I could not. I could not read this man's intention.
"I did, just a bunch of vague 'protect the motherland' sort of stuff they teach you in bootcamp, soldier."
The man's smile deepened. He picked up the piece of paper and showed me the other side. On it was a complex device.
"Nice drawing," I said, "is this some new rorshach test?"
"No." He said, "it is the Unholy Aligment. A guide used by the darkness to plot their eventual war." He strode around the desk to stand before me and then he examined his hands, "do you know where I got it? Where I got the vision?"
So... there were others. "From... him?" I said, secretly hoping that this man and I shared the same awful deal.
The man clicked his tongue then pointed above him. Ah, they've started too.
"You know," I began casually, "I'll just come back if you kill me, I'll come back as a killer true, I'll rape your daughters and burn your fields, I'll fight alongside the great terrors of hell a thousand fold stronger, as a soldier of the great beast."
He shrugged.
"So then," I said, "the war has begun."
The other man pulled the trigger.
"No," he said and turned to look up at heaven, "now it has." | THUNK THUNK THUNK.. thWACK............ THUNK.
... and all is dark.
Suddenly a pinhole light emerges after considerable deprivation of the visual sense. June Cappi reaches to brush her thick brunette hair with her hands but found they could not be made animate. She struggles and a ringing sound emanates inside her thumping head; painful, like standing too close to a jet at takeoff. The singular pinhole of light starts to accumulate as her retinas slowly adjust.
Then it occurs: she’s been captured. There’s a bag on her head. She then remembers: 2 men jumped her, hit her, loaded her into a truck. Where was she now?
A man of considerable muscular size yanks the woven cloth bag off her head, ripping strands of hair wrapped in the fabric of the rope along with it. June is kicked to the ground with a rudeness of force, buckling her tiny body into a fetal position. Bruised and shaky, her eyes twitch with every muscular pain, she lifts her head to see her environment. The questions in her mind continue to run rabid like a rat locked in a water filed bucket, starving, and minutes from death. Her heartbeat races so hard her chest feels tight, increasing her anxiety; now she fears death from the betrayal of her own body.
Alas, instead of a dirty warehouse, or an abandoned crack house, or maybe even an old run down mall parking lot— alas, no, she saw a setting strikingly familiar. A round room, a round table, a dim light like a spot light and 4 men sitting their hands tied forward just like hers. The muscular mass of a man yanked her up by her hair and placed her at the table. He sighs and gathers a black folder with variously scattered papers.
June already knew what was going on, well, sort of. She recognized the room, the setting, but it concerned her as to why these people knew about this particular arrangement.
Ms. June Cappi was an unusual young lady in possession of unusual old knowledge. She was one of only a handful of people alive in modern times who understood old magic, but please, lets distinguish this common sense definition of magic. What we today call magic is old knowledge, not forgotten knowledge, purposefully erased knowledge. Propaganda filled misinformation would be a fitting denotation of “magic”.
For example, the eerily silent power of the lightbulb would be magical 300 years ago. Such is this knowledge: it’s only magical due to its erasure from the historical cannon.
She acquired this knowledge from a questionably legit source: past life hypnosis. Yet it was legitimate enough that her techniques enlightened the attention of more enlightened folks of a upper crust caste, a class of folks above the highest of classes. Invisible puppeteers of invisible destinies. Consider them your fallen angels of an Earthly realm. This curator class of humanity understood that knowledge is power thus the best way to keep the sheepish masses in order was to curate the knowledge. Allow education, but nothing of any true substance. Allow a trade and a skill for middle class enslavement but never the keys to the whole castle.
At this dire, yet curious, sliver of time June wondered where the most important item for this arrangement was: a cone of incense in a burner in the middle.
You see, in June’s past life she was a sorceress, her “magic” was wide and varied but she had an important skill handy to those in power, but also frightening to those in power: she could extract the truth from anyone. She was the inventor of a fool proof method of truth gathering.
You needed the following:
A round enclosed room with as little draft as possible.
A round table.
Your suspect and a few actors to work as controls.
Incense placed in the middle of the table.
The investigator, (in this case usually the sorcerer.)
This wasn’t magic, it was science. A guilty person would have involuntary cardio-pulmonary distress. This distress increases the rate of respiration. In a sealed round room with no air flow, if the investor would start to question the room, the smoke would naturally drift towards the guilty person. It was like a kiss of death from a wafting snake every time.
Now the muscular meat wall of man placed the incense in the middle of the rotund wooden table. He opens the folder.... Within a few words she already knew why she was there. These puppet masters were on to her and they wanted to use her own technique from millennia ago against her. What other secrets did this innocent girl hold? | 2018-06-26T13:51:39 | 2018-06-26T12:38:01 | 80 | 26 |
[WP] You have two wounds that resemble USB ports. You try and plug in a keyboard and mouse. | "Let me get this straight" my doctor said as he sanitised a pair of tweezers. "When you discovered the puncture wounds, your first instinct was to see if they'd interface with your computer peripherals?"
I winced in pain as he pulled out another frazzled bit of copper. "I'm telling you doc, they looked exactly like USB ports!"
"I can't prescribe you any depressants or anti-psychotics, but I'll refer you to someone who can"
"Goddammit doc, you have to believe me. I felt the drivers install and everything." | The Razer gear prompted me to insert a disc to install extra features including key-binding and light modification. I went and fetched the disc, but was unsure about where to insert it. Mouth? Eyes? After fumbling around with the disc, by trial and error, I inserted it successfully into my left armpit. An installation bar with an estimate of five minutes appeared before my eyes. Awesome. I could not wait to try playing myself.
By completion I had lost the natural mind-body connection that originally enabled me to move around by thought. I had also lost the natural and unconscious function enabling individuals to breath. All bodily functions had transferred to an inbuilt hotbar residing inside my brain, a hotbar that was only accessible through key-presses on the mechanical keyboard.
The mouse controlled where I looked. Also, there was a difference between left and right click. Left click being for action, and right click for inspection. I had become a character in my own game, and I thought it was awesome until I realized how much work it required to maintain a body. My breath, hearth, digestion, were all functions under my conscious control, and I do not believe anyone knows how much work that is.
Only few days passed before I started searching for bots that could possibly automate the functions. I located some decent versions on the darker parts of the interwebz as it turned out that I was not the only one plugged up to machinery. The hard part was to distinguish bad bots from the good. Some had malware. Some were too expensive. Others lagged the desired automation.
I had searched for hours when I stumbled upon a 'Human-Machine Forum' - a place dedicated to people like me. A forum with threads consisting of debates, love, strategy and life in general. One section of threads were devoted to the discussion of bots and automation. Those threads attracted mostly people who had already automated the vital-functions, but had a further interest in deeper automation and 'machine-tweaking'. It was the 'human-machine' version of pimp my ride. Sometimes 'newbs' like me would stop by and ask for 'beginner-bots' tasked with automating breath and hearth, and often we were directed to a website called, 'automate-the-boring-stuff-with-bots'.
It was a beginner friendly website, and I quickly found what I was looking for. An 'ALO09' from the 'newb-section'. A bot taking care of vital-functions. The bot arrived soon after purchase via a link in the mail section of my hotbar. The process was easy:
1. Locate the bot-link.
2. Install
3. Enjoy.
I was happy with their service, rated them with a five, installed the bot, skipped the instructions, and the part prompting me - *'We can not identify the software. It might not me safe. Are you sure you want to install?'* I clicked yes. | 2018-10-01T06:14:34 | 2018-10-01T05:16:32 | 44 | 28 |
[WP] As the last survivor of the apocalypse, in a fit of boredom, you start commenting "last" on every video on YouTube. One day, you receive a notification that your comment has been liked.
Wow, I did *not* expect such a huge turnout for my first ever prompt. The prompt itself arose from a friend and I doing some random banter back and forth, and I just posted up part of that banter as the prompt, essentially. XD
Thanks to everyone who posted a response and gave an upvote, this meant a lot to me! | As I clicked on yet another link, a glance at the title woke me from my stupor.
**US attack on Iran sparks new wave of WWIII memes**
It seemed inconceivable that not so long ago this was the reality. Fresh internet humor about the planet's impending doom. The latest bunch of pop culture references and dark jokes to relay the sense of strangeness of the world.
*Only if we had known.*
It had been fourteen days - two full weeks - since I had last interacted with another living soul. For all I knew, there wasn't another one remaining. The heat, radiation and extreme weather had taken most. Those who had remained were forced to see themselves devolve into savages in hopeless attempts to survive. With the food supplies dwindling, it seemed like I would soon be joining those ranks.
To say my days had become monotonous would be an understatement. Each day was indistinguishable from the last. They consisted of me trying to get by on as little food as possible.
Though food was in short supply, by some miracle, electricity and Internet were still up and running. It was little comfort though when there didn't seem to be anyone else using it. There were no new posts on Facebook or Twitter, nobody uploading vlogs from their nuclear-holocaust-proof bunkers. And there was nothing on Reddit either. No more of those dank WWIII memes.
I had given up looking for signs of life online at least a week ago. My waking hours now saw me mindlessly scroll through old Reddit posts and watching Youtube videos. I had developed a perverse habit of leaving comments on every video I saw. It was an old obsession for people to be the first to view content uploaded by their favourite Youtubers. Within seconds of uploading, videos used to be inundated with comments of "First". I always found that trend annoying. I could never be the first one to comment on any of those videos but I certainly could be the last.
*Maybe the Internet wasn't keeping me sane after all*
Rubbing my eyes, I decided that I'd had enough. Time didn't matter much to me now but I still felt inclined to sleep while it was still dark outside. Just as I had put my phone away and prepared myself to go to sleep, I heard a sound that sent shock waves through my body. A sound I had heard a million times before but it had never made me feel as excited,elated or terrified before.
My phone had buzzed.
As I picked it up, I saw that I had received a notification.
*LoneSurivor liked your comment: "Last".* | *“Some humans would do anything to see if it was possible to do it. If you put a large switch in some cave somewhere, with a sign on it saying 'End-of-the-World Switch. PLEASE DO NOT TOUCH', the paint wouldn't even have time to dry.”*
I chuckled to myself as I reread my old Terry Pratchett novels. Good thing he wasn't around to witness the craziness of the current day. Then again, no one was around. Rereading old books had become a habit of mine, a desperate grab towards a sense of familiarity, comfort, even love. The first few weeks after the world ended, it was devastating. I hid in my room, frantically refreshing the internet, hoping for some sign of communication. I even figured out how to get on the dark web, in the hope some far-away drug lord might have found some ways to survive.
That was when the stench of dead bodies became too much for me. I had to do something about it, clean out my immediate surroundings. The tap water was starting to look kind of murky, and I needed to get to the store, was I to survive. Store first. Bodies later. Well, at least I didn't have to worry about money, for once. The entire store was mine.
I'm not sure why the power was still on. Why the freezers were still working. Or, the internet, with its vast resources of information but now as much of a desolate wasteland as the rest of the world. It took me another few weeks to gather the bodies on a pile. To go through the stores and freeze the perishables. To set myself up for... I didn't know what. I guess the best I could do was write down my experiences, day to day, in case someone - or something - would eventually find them.
The pile of bodies burned like a rescue fire. No one came. At least I was smart enough to do it far from home.
I started exploring the city. My trusty smartphone with me. The satellites still worked. The internet still worked. Sure, public transport wasn't an option and I never got my drivers license, but who was there to call me out for driving? I learned how to break into cars and start them. I learned how to break into homes. The world, empty and quiet, was mine.
Empty and quiet except for the books, were the emotions of humanity were stored. Except from the videos, where the movements and sounds were recorded. I always hated YouTube, never had the patience to look through videos, yet I found myself mesmerized - and eventually, in a sense of morbid humor, started commenting "last" on each and every video. Who cared? I started a Vlog. I bet it would have been popular, who didn't want to see New York City at the end of times? But there was no one to watch but me.
My next step, I thought to myself, sitting on top of the Empire State Building, looking at the sunrise, would be to go through the government files. Find some interesting classified information. Figured out which switch was pulled. Figure out why I survived.
My thoughts were disturbed by a sound on my phone. Damn robo-callers. I wish they'd be taken out with them.
**YouTube**.
I thought I turned off all notifications for apps.
**"Someone liked your comment."**
Wait. What?
I stared at my phone in confusion. Another notification. YouTube, again.
**"You have one new subscriber."**
I opened the profile. No username. No information. No other subscribers.
**"You have a new message."**
I opened the message, my hands shaking. Could this be it? The sign of life I spent so many months looking for?
*"Hey! if you're reading this were not alone!!! i am soo far away from you and always wanted to go to nyc but am scared to fly a plane?"*
I laughed at the irony of it. Of course. Of course the only person who'd be able to track me down spoke English, but was too far away to meet. Someone who could fill the void of human conversation, but couldn't help me out of this. Whatever this was.
*"Hi! Yeah, reading this. Where are you living? Any idea what happened?"*
*"Don't know. don't care. the world is better off this way. england. anyway, whats your #?"*
I didn't know whether my phone still worked, but gave out my number. Anything better than those bots, right? I could do with some human interaction. Maybe an old-fashioned call. I'd give a lot to hear a human voice again.
Two minutes later, a text came through. A picture. I opened it. A second message came through almost immediately.
*Send nudes?*
I wish this end of the world took dick pics with it too. | 2020-01-13T12:40:19 | 2020-01-07T10:22:28 | 32 | 20 |
[WP] You’ve traveled a great distance to finally court the princess. Many others have tried and failed. Why? At the end of a week with her, you must duel her to the death. She is the greatest sword fighter in the land, so your only hope is to convince her to call off the fight. | "So, uh, we'll have to fight to the death?"
The princess shrugged. "Yeah."
"Okay, so... thing is, I'll definitely lose," I admit. "I'm not exactly a fighter, and I'm honestly still not sure why I'm here."
"My father said that you could be worthy of me," she replies, nonchalantly stoking the flame before us. Her chambers are cozy and modest, despite her status. "I doubt it, however. The only worthy man in the world can best me at swordplay. And as you already admitted, you certainly can't."
"Right, but... when you do find that worthy guy, what do you envision your life being like after he wins?"
"We will live in splendor and sexual bliss."
"You mean, after he wins."
"Correct."
I frown at her remark. "You mean, after he wins a fight, to the DEATH."
"Yes, as we've already discussed." She casts me a derisive glance. "You're not very bright, are you?"
I ignore her remark, for the time being. "I'm sorry, I just want to make sure we're on the same page here - after this mysterious suitor wins, a fight to the death, you envision a life with him?"
"Yes, why is this so hard to grasp for you?" She levels the poker she was stoking the fireplace with at my eye with a sneer. "Perhaps I should end this now, to put you out of your misery."
I pinch the bridge of my nose in irritation. "Princess, if you fight to the death and lose, what happens?"
"You die, fool."
"Right. And then?"
"And then you are buried with the rest of your idiot ancestors."
"Right. So, if you lose a fight to the death with your suitor, how would you then live a life with him, if you are dead?"
She hesitates for a moment, before coming back with a snappy answer. "Well... if I were going to be killed, then the fight would be ended, you foolish man."
"So then he wouldn't have won."
"What?"
"By law, you only win a fight to the death when your opponent is dead. Your opponent cannot forfeit. If you accept a forfeiture, you are executed as a coward. So how do you expect to marry a man that has either killed you, or been executed for sparing you?"
"Uh..." She finally lowers the poker, and I release a breath I didn't realize I had been holding. "I just assumed... that the rules would not apply to me. After all, I am royalty..."
"Then it wouldn't be a real fight to the death, would it?"
"No... No, I suppose it would not."
"So? What will you do now?"
She stares at me for a moment, as if contemplating something. "I suppose I will follow a... different human tradition." The dragon princess stands, her wings twitching restlessly as she stretches. "The 'shotgun wedding'."
"Wait, what?"
And that's how I went from taking a nap in a field, to being kidnapped by the head of a local family of dragons with a human- obsessed daughter, to being married to a dragon, all within one day.
No, I don't understand it, either. | They never suspect a lesbian in disguise, do they?
“You’re... you’re a...?”
“Indeed, my fair lady.” A wink. A nod. A flip of my luxurious chocolate locks. Though this may sound narcissistic, as gorgeous as I appear in dresses and skirts, I looked far more alluring in my chainmail. Princess Lara, like many, was unprepared for this.
So many are.
The sword and shield clattered in her grip. “Stop trifling with me! Where is he? Where’s my true suitor? The one I spent a week with!”
“Right here, darling. Though it’s rather rude that you don’t recognize me outside of my skirts and jewels.”
Even through the sheen of her faceguard, I could see her lip tremble.
“You were... a servant girl?”
“Your handmaiden, actually. We shared many pleasantries together, some of which I know you enjoyed deeply.”
Her helmet practically steamed. “Nonsense! Where is the man I shared many a meal with!”
“Oh, him? That was my steward. The man couldn’t hold a sword to spare his life, honestly. Surely, that’s not the man you were hoping to spend the rest of your life with? We had such fun together...”
“Quiet! How can I believe you? You’re not my handmaiden! You couldn’t possib—“
My chest plate dropped to the grass. Though especially complicated to adorn, I find that my fingers are skillfully nimble. Lara liked that best about me, after all. Stabbing my sword into the ground, I lifted my undershirt to reveal a trail of darkened flesh.
“A token of your kindness, your majesty.” I smiled, tapping the lovebites she had left from the night before. From all around the people gasped. Royal guards flushed with embarrassment, and from afar I heard many a handmaiden cry as the queen fainted with dramatic flourish.
And though Lara’s mouth gaped with bashfulness, I did not cease in dismantling my knightly armor.
“Diana! For God’s sake, what are you doing?” She stammered, unable to comprehend the act.
“Why,” I said, “I am preparing to fight you as we fought in the last few nights.” At that, more gasps reigned in from the crowd. Shouting ensued after the King dropped in a faint, who had to be escorted out with the Queen. “But, in all honesty, it would be a great detriment to you if I were to fight with all my noble gear. That would put you at what I fear to be a great disadvantage. After all, I highly doubt you are as skilled as I in hand-to-hand combat.”
This, of course, was a bold-faced lie. I was skilled with a blade, sure, but I was no match for Princess Lara. Even after years of training, she would slaughter me in mere seconds. No, this act of undressing was part of a different ruse.
She flushed again, but this time with rage. “Silence, you bigoted fool!”
“Well, that’s not very ladylike.”
“What am I even to make of this trial? Suppose you could best me: what would our houses gain from matrimony? We cannot bear children together! Our family name would be desolate!”
I chuckled, tossing a boot in her direction. “To adopt one into royalty is not as uncommon as you would think. And to answer your question, our matrimony would bring our houses an alliance, one detrimental to future warfare. We discussed this briefly in your quarters, when you mistook me for a handmaiden—“
“Who dared to give you the title or honor of a prince befitting to challenge me in combat?”
The corner of my mouth rose slightly. “My father always wanted a son, but he was troubled with daughters instead. Eventually, he thought it best to make due with what he had. As the oldest, he thought it best to present me to you.”
With a final flick of my wrist, the rest of my armor clattered to the ground. Many around stared with awe and disgust. ‘What is worse about this trial of words’, I wondered: ‘a princess undressing, or a princess standing with the rights and privileges of a prince?’
The people couldn’t seem to make up their minds. But Princess Lara had. Her eyes were glued on all of the marks she’d left over my body. Her sword trembled pathetically in her hand as I watched her eyes trace the outline of my breasts. She dropped to her knees, defeated before the battle had truly begun.
No one ever expects a strip-tease during a trial of combat. Pragmatically speaking, it’s a foreign counter to any combat of the sort.
“I... surrender.” The words dropped from her mouth in defeat. Her eyes burned with hatred, but also with a sort of lust. I was not the stranger she had expected to win her hand, and I certainly was not the worst suitor she had been presented with.
With a hand extended her way, I inquired loudly, so that all around might hear: “So you accept my offer of matrimony?”
Princess Lara nodded, feebly removing her own helmet as she accepted my hand.
“An unexpected battle, but a battle well fought,” she whispered to me, watching the crowd around us light up in excitement.
A wink. “Only because you let me win, Princess.” | 2020-09-20T21:30:42 | 2020-09-20T21:17:11 | 127 | 55 |
[WP] The demon couldn't believe his luck to find such a willing victim to possess. As it possessed them, instead of fighting back like they usually do, this one said "Good luck. You'll need it."
EDIT: Thanks for the awards guys! I've been on this site for 7 years and this is the first time I've received any. | I never expected humans to be so delectable. I smelled her as soon as I clawed my way out of the portal—a lingering trail of sweetness perfuming the air. The trail led me to this sleeping beauty. Her hair fanned behind her head in a fiery halo, and her pale skin glowed beneath the moonlight like a beckoning beacon.
Her soul was overpowering, dizzying me with her aroma. She was so ripe for the taking, and I was addicted to her intoxicating aura—a spice of untapped dreams and endless wants, enhanced with a shadow of resentment. She had so many delicious desires and I couldn’t resist the feast.
I readied for the resistance, but she welcomed me in with eagerness and relief. With each tantalizing taste of her, I wanted more and more until we were whole, a yin yang of two souls. She gave herself to me completely, and I devoured her until her body was mine, and then she laughed, leaving a bitter aftertaste in my mouth.
I slurped up her final sip of nectar, and she whispered, “Good luck, you’ll need it.”
Luck meant nothing to a demon such as I. A demon who escaped the jails of hell and crawled through the cracks of the earth to reach the human realm. A demon who finally found freedom.
My eyes blinked open and I peered through the darkness. I could barely make out the shadowy shapes in the room, even after my eyes adjusted. Human senses were so muted, but I would adapt. I tried to move my legs, but they refused to budge. Nor could I wiggle even the tiniest of my toes. My limbs were heavy and lifeless—entirely immobile.
A scream ripped through me but it didn’t make it past my throat. Only my eyes could move, could sense, could see.
There was no sound when I realized I’d escaped one hell only to be trapped in another.
\*\*\*\*\*
Thanks for reading! Feel free to read more at r/rulerofstorybears | The demon haunted the rooftops as it stalked its victim below. She walked through the alleyways as if nothing in the world mattered, unaware of the nightmare about to befall her. The demon waited until she walked into a dead-end, trapped by walls on all sides. It ran along the rooftops and pounced, aiming for its target far below. She turned around, slow and causal. She looked at the demon as it fell towards her. Her eyes were calm, undeterred by its arial attack. The demon tried to change course, but it was too late. The woman uttered two words before the end.
"Good luck."
They impacted with full force. The possession took hold of her. The demon tried to stop it, but it wouldn't work. It was losing control! The host's body latched onto the demon and started ripping it to pieces The rage and anger that festered in this host threatened to tear everything apart. It was all it could do to pull together the loose threads of its victims mind, to stop it turning into a wild animal. The possession complete, the demon looked through her eyes and took control of her hands, and braced as the nightmare of foreign memories attacked it.
"Finally, it's not my fault anymore," a voice echoed in the mind they shared. It shouldn't have been possible, but this mind was fragmented. Complete control was not possible.
The demon shrieked, unable to formulate words as it struggled to survive. It saw horrible things, both past and future, and it took every ounce of its strength to keep this body standing still.
"What are you?" It yelled into her mind.
"Scientist. Former. Failed," said echoes in her mind.
The images that flashed through her mind were too complicated for the demon to understand. Advanced chemistry. Neurology. An entire lifetime dedicated to the pursuit of knowledge, and the shadow of a failure which took all of that away.
"Please!" The demon cried, "I cannot survive here! Let me go, I will grant you anything."
The words were slow, but they bubbled up from her mind, "I. Refuse."
"Please. I'm begging you," the demon said, "I feed off anger. But it's too much! I will die. We will both die!"
The demon stumbled around the alley, arms flailing as it failed to control its host. Its body was disintegrating. It screamed into the void for help, anything to help it control these inhuman tendencies.
Then something in her mind responded. A hand reached up from inside her mental space and grabbed onto the demon. Her mind quieted. The demon took its first clear view of the alley. It wiped sweat off her forehead, and straightened her shirt.
"Thank you," it said. The audible words echoing from her mouth. Words that had never before been spoken by a demon.
Now, with a clear mind, the demon concentrated on escape. It pulled against her mind, but the tendrils of possession ran too deep. It was trapped. Unable to ever break free from this hell.
Once again, its mind began to grow cloudy. Her support was dwindling, and powerful forces once again threatened to tear the demon apart.
"Please," the demon said, "I need your help. Together we can control this. Together we can fix this."
"Cure. Not. Possible," came the woman's response.
"I don't believe that," The demon said." You don't believe that! I have seen your thoughts. Whatever this arcane mysticism is, whatever you call this 'science'. We can use it to find this cure. Both of us can be free."
"Too. Complicated," came the response.
"I want to learn," said the demon, "I will help you control your fury. It is more than I will ever need. Teach me. Show me. Together we will survive."
The response was a mental nod. An affirmative.
That was it then. The partnership was sealed. Together they would exit this place and find the cure. And tear apart and eat the flesh of any human that stood in their way!
The demon felt a mental smack. Apparently this was not how humans resolved their differences. Perhaps there would be no flesh eating. A difficult partnership indeed. | 2020-12-21T12:20:20 | 2020-12-21T11:47:09 | 752 | 339 |
[WP] The castle is stormed and ruffians run about through the halls. The young prince hides in the kitchen, but is found. Now all that stands between him and his would be assassins is the castle cook. She twirls a steak knife in her hand and squares off against the invaders. | “Grace?”
“Of course.”
“Grace, let’s be reasonable.”
“Have I ever been anything else?”
“Of course not. I’m sorry. But we need the prince.”
“No.”
“But-“
“Did I stutter?”
“No, Grace, I’m sorry.”
“Y’all need to to go.”
“We were tasked with the prince.”
“And?”
“You’re right, I’m sorry.”
“Boys, I can make you some sandwiches for the trip back?”
“Uh, we’re not hungry.”
“You don’t want my cooking?”
“No, sorry, Grace, we’d love some sandwiches.”
“Wouldn’t want you leaving my kitchen empty-handed.”
“Never, oh never, Grace.”
“Wash your hands. I cringe to imagine where y’all have been.”
“Of course, Grace. Boys, you heard the lady: wash up.”
“But sir, *the prince*.”
“Son, don’t let her hear you say another word about that. You don’t want this. Take the sandwich, thank her profusely, and we never saw the prince.”
“And wash your hands!” | Ps: I’m bad at punctuation 🥴. I hope you enjoy it though
“Stay here my prince while I go distract the invaders. Once you hear me scream I need you to run out the back door with all your might and not look back. Run with everything and do not stop” She tells me.
“No Ms Linda please don’t go. Please don’t leave me. Let’s run away together they’re too strong. They’ve killed my parents and every guard in this castle. They’re going to kill you” I say.
“Distracting them is your only shot at escaping. They don’t know I’m here so if they hear me walking they will assume I’m you and let their guard down. Please go my prince. I’m not letting you die today” She says.
“Okay Ms. Linda. I know this is far fetched but I hope you make it out alive. See you on the other side” I tell her.
“See you on the other side” she says.
She grabs the knife from the counter, runs down the hall and starts screaming.
That’s my cue to leave. I run out through the back door into the forest. The assassins at the back have moved to the front. I guess Ms Linda’s plan worked. I keep running for what seems like a lot of hours until the sky is pitch black. I don’t have any lights on me so I can’t possibly run any further. I have to find a place to rest till daylight. I’m a bit scared because there have been sightings of bears in this forest. Wow Imagine running from assassins only to be killed by a bear. Who are these people? Why are they even after me? One day I’m living my life as an 18 year old boy. The next day I’m being hunted down like a game. My parents are dead. Ms Linda is probably dead too.
“Jason” I hear someone shout from afar.
Oh no I’m going to die today. There’s no way I’m escaping this.
“Jason it’s Ms Linda” The person shouts.
“Ms Linda? I thought you were dead. How did you escape? “ I asked.
“Some of the men in the village came over with their weapons to fight off the assassins” She said.
“But how did they know the castle was being attacked ? I asked.
“One of the wounded guards was able to escape and alert the village” she replied.
“Oh that’s relieving to hear” I said.
“It’s safe to come out Jason. Just follow the light” She says.
“Okay” I reply.
Everything in me is still telling me to run the other way. It doesn’t make sense. Why should I run when I’m safe now? I trust Ms Linda, she was going to give up her life to save me. There’s no reason to run again.
I get to where she is and she hugs me
“Oh Jason. I’m glad you’re safe” she says.
“Well I’m glad you aren’t dead Ms Linda” I say.
“I’m sorry Jason” she says sobbing.
“Sorry for what? You saved me I should be the one apologizing for leaving you” I reply
“No not that Jason. I truly am sorry. I never intended for this to get this far” she says
“What did you do? Ms Linda” I whisper
“Something horrible” she sad whispering back.
Delma💕 | 2021-01-08T08:21:20 | 2021-01-08T08:03:30 | 95 | 10 |
[WP] As the Village Seer, you peer into the mystical to give the villagers sage wisdom from beyond. The problem is, you're not magical, you're just smart and you live in an exceptionally dumb village. | I did not choose to be here, I was chosen. Placed upon this land to bless all that passes.
Doing The Great One’s work, forced to deal with the smallest of issues to the greatest of them. I have become the center of this village, the lighting rod that grounds everyone.
“O’ Wise One! Whatever shall I do about this predicament?” I hear. They never stop. They never consider me; they just want what I can give.
I’ve become used to it now, taking these requests without comment, receiving meager rewards for my ample services.
Another day, another question. The same questions I hear, again and again, the same questions that require no knowledge, no skill to solve.
The alarm rings, I rise from my slumber. Those eight hours were the best eight hours: the nagging, the constant noise, the mental torture that I must endure all ceasing to exist. But the time for relishing my sleep was over, I must return to my duties.
Shouting was already coming from my window. I slip my hand between the curtains, creating an opening just wide enough for me to peer through. The sunlight blinded me, its sudden heat slapping me in the face.
Hundreds of people gathered beneath my second-story apartment, shouting for me to come and serve them.
I sigh; this is just another day for a person of my stature. Throwing off my pajamas, I open my wardrobe to grab my uniform, a bright sky blue shirt that signaled who I was.
I felt the scratchy fabric slide over my skin, the soft interior of my shoe as I slipped my feet in, and the shifting of my hair as I placed my hat onto my head.
More shouting from the window. I peer out of the window again, taking a closer look at the people gathered. They were holding printers, office phones, laptops, and keyboards.
I swung the window open, turning their muffled shouting into audible speech.
“Please, why does my printer not print?”
“O’ Wise One, how do I connect to the internet?”
“Help! This phone cannot call!”
I shut the window, returning their voices from speech to muffled shouting.
I was almost done dressing; The final piece was sitting on top of my nightstand.
“The Great One: Tech support and more!” The badge read. I pinned it onto my shirt and headed out the door.
____
Thanks for reading! | "Mytical seer. We have brought a dead goat to offer you as a sacrifice." The Village chieftain calls to you.
"Oh. Hmm. Okay. Sure a dead goat. Can you just do like some bread or maybe honey wine next time? Literally, honey wine is the only good thing we have here. But thanks for the goat." You say, convinced that you will throw the dead goat into a nearby ravine as soon as the village idiots are gone.
"Seer, we ask you upon the eve of battle. Will we be victorious tomorrow? We will take our ten strongest sons and march upon the high walled city where thousands of soldiers await us." The Chieftan says.
"What? no. Don't do that. You're definitely not going to win that." You say, without knowing what walled city he's talking about.
The Chieftain scoffs at you. "You are no Seer. I will show you. I will lead the charge tomorrow with the ten others." He leaves and takes the dead goat with him.
"I would strongly suggest not doing that." You call as he leaves.
The next day would go down in the history of your village as one of the greatest tragedies ever to befall them. Stories tell that all eleven of your villages warriors directly charged a very high stone wall hurling insults and threatening to murder all of the inhabitants of the city of over one hundred thousand. After a puzzled compliment of guards on the wall realized that the warriors were neither going to scale the wall or leave, they sort of just ignored the village warriors. Sadly, one by one they all climbed high enough on the wall that when they did slip, they plunged to their death. There were no survivors. The walled city did not maintain any written history of the event, and it largely went unnoticed by the population.
With the Chieftain dead, leadership would usually transfer to the Chieftain's son, but he too died at the attack on the wall. The Chieftain's wife, "the Chieftess" became the leader.
One week later, see came to visit you in your Seer's hut. She was wearing all black and mourning her lost family. She brought a dead goat with her.
"Oh, Seer. Why did they not listen? I have lost all whom I love. Take this dead goat as an offering. Tell me Seer, what do I do now that we are lost?" The Chieftess said through tears.
"Okay, umm. So, I told the last guy. I mean your husband. I mean he was your husband but now he's dead." You stumbled over your words. She began to sob and wail after you reminded her of her dead husband. "BUT..." You save yourself from further embarrassment. "He is in a better place now."
"You can see that?" She asks.
"Oh, yeah he's in a really long hut in the sky drinking honey wine and eating chicken. There's no goat. He's got bread, vegetables, chicken, pie. He's got the whole deal. You will meet him in the afterlife."
"I want to meet him now." She says.
"Oh um, no you can't. But you will later. Anyway, so that gets me to the point that I told the last guy not to bring these goats. The honey wine is really better for me."
"Seer, tell me how did you know that our army would fall in tragedy?"
"Kinda... I mean, I guessed. But the honey wine gives me these powers so more of that, please. Just lots of that. Keep that one coming."
"Seer, how should I lead my people? What must I do?"
"Okay, thing number one. Stop killing all of your goats. I feel like I keep telling you all this and you just keep doing it. Second, let's get a lot more honey bees and farm a LOT of honey." You suggest.
From then on, the Chieftess listened to your every word and took your counsel. They followed your advice to the letter, except for of course your request to stop bringing goats. They kept doing that and you sort of just gave up and stopped protesting. Eventually, you became an A+ goat chef and the village grew into an epi-center for a thriving honey wine trade. You spent the rest of your days full of goat and honey wine, while overseeing a thriving trade alliance with the walled city. They provided tools, protection, and gold in exchange for honey wine and stewed goat. | 2021-06-14T11:04:33 | 2021-06-14T10:24:03 | 1,900 | 424 |
[WP] When you were a child, you saw an alien spaceship in your neighborhood. Nobody believed you back then. When the aliens revealed themselves, nobody believed you still. Even after you became a diplomat representing Earth in the galactic society, everyone denies that you can see spaceships. | "Mommy, look at the giant spaceship!"
I pointed up into the sky, the brilliant yellows and oranges of the lights mesmerizing as I stared with wonder.
"Come now, Jared," my mom said. "No time for imagination, we've gotta bring these groceries home."
\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Jared, it's a pleasure to meet you. We've been watching you as you've lived your high school life. We've noticed your aptitude for economics, politics, public speaking, and the arts."
I said nothing, furiously sketching their appearance in my favorite notebook. I always had my notebook with me. Otherwise, how could I show them proof?
\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Ladies and gentlemen, although that Earth-introduction probably doesn't work as well here..."
My heart raced as laughter filled the room. Dressed in my best suit and tie, after years of work, I'd finally made it to the position I've always dreamed of. Just before 30, as well! No time for reminiscing, though. I've got to focus.
"It is my absolute pleasure to accept the chancellor's instatement as Earth's diplomat to the Great Society. Though I would love to stand here and tell stories of Earth and of my journey to this place, I have been announced not to boast but to work. I believe it is of utmost importance to Earth and her surrounding solar system to increase the fluidity of the FTL transportation systems connecting Earth to the nearby Proxima Centauri as soon as possible in order to boost sociological and technological growth for both parties..."
\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
And downstairs, my mother paused, crying softly, gripping her washcloth as hard as she could. | 'Hapa, lookit that tree! I bet I can climb it! Can I please climb it?'
The old man turned his wrinkled head toward the sound of the idiotic child.
'Don't call me Hapa. You can call me Hadrian. You don't need permission from me to climb trees. Do whatever the hell you want. I don't care what your uncle tells you. I really don't care.'
The boy didn't listen to the tone in Hadrian's voice. He screamed and laughed, and Hadrian didn't need to look back in his direction to hear the boy scraping up the tree and breaking branches. Wasn't that tree the same sort that he had climbed on? Back in early days? Back on *the* day?
Back on the day there was a deafening noise and a tiny young Hadrian tried to run and hide in his mother's basement because he hated the sound and the vibrations and the smell in the air like a diesel car exploding and everything happened all at once but it turned out to be okay. Because they weren't 'bad' guys who had landed in his backyard. They were the 'good' ones, they explained. And they took him in, and gave him a tour. And later Hadrian ran into his mother's arms, yelling that he had been on a spaceship. And saw one. And his mother didn't believe him, had no intention of believing him, because it made no sense. She patiently explained that there was no way Hadrian could have seen a spaceship.
Hadrian knew what he had seen; what he saw every month during his meetings with the ZA-sector cyclic group. It was impossible that he was seeing the neon-like lights of an alien ship, yes, but that is exactly what he saw. Once, Hadrian wanted the world to know all about the otherworldly technology, and how he was often viewing what should have been impossible. Now, nothing like that mattered to him. What sort of benefit would it give to him to tell the world, exactly? It would remove his attention from pensionbought cocktails and deep fried onions. Things that actually mattered.
Hadrian turned to the sound of footsteps coming though soft, tropical sand. Doubtless the footsteps of a tall man in a clean suit. 'Bernard? You've gotta ask someone else. Who wants to get something like this stopped? I'm sure you can see what's around ya. Paradise. Now, give me a far-out break and give the job to Lizzie.'
Bernard stopped next to Hadrian and talked in an annoyingly musical voice. 'You really haven't changed, have you, my old friend? They'll only take you in specifically as first contact. You're the ambassador, and you're great at it. You need to do your job.'
'I'm gonna convince you I can see the shuttleship first. The UN pretends to give a crap about interplanetary affairs and their board still refuses to believe me when I tell them I can see one little spaceboat'.
Hadrian didn't look, but Bernard presumably smiled. 'I can see it. You can't.'
'I can.'
'Tell me which direction it is. It's already parked.'
'That way'. Hadrian pointed vaguely to the north.
'Wrong, my friend. It's in the exact opposite direction.'
'Their mapping system needs calibration.'
'So you say, my friend. So you say. Do you need me to roll you over?'
'Of course.'
Hadrian regrettably needed the little government thimble Bernard to roll him over to meetings. He could see the spaceships and meeting rooms. He couldn't see the twigs and rocks and people in the way of them. Or anything, for that matter, since he got in that accident with that downed power line when he was five he barely remembered.
But he could see spaceships. | 2022-01-05T08:57:12 | 2022-01-05T07:08:56 | 187 | 20 |
[WP] Two people in a bar are having a conversation. The topic of their "body counts" comes up. One's an assassin, the other is an escort. Each thinks the other has the same profession as them, and is horrified by what they are told. | "Zero."
"Seriously?! That's a huge relief. I was worried you were going to have some huge number and I was going to look like an idiot. Mine's zero too."
"Oh yeah, I just can't seem to pull the trigger. I get all dressed and ready, and then stage fright every time I see who I'm supposed to take upstairs."
"Or "downstairs", am I right? But don't feel bad. I'm the exact same way. Once I have them in my sights, I get the cold sweats and I just lock up. That's it."
"It's scary, isn't it? Maybe we could exchange numbers and practice with each other sometime."
"You mean like role-playing?"
"Yeah, I guess you could think of it that way. It would be like rehearsing lines for a play."
"I think that's a great idea! Of course we'd use protection, right?"
"Oh, definitely. We don't even have to go that far, but definitely don't want any life-changing oopsies or accidents, right?"
"I'm so glad that we bumped into each other and got to talking. By the way, who are you here for?"
"Oh, I'm here for that one over at the bar."
"What?! No! That's who I'm here for!"
"Get out! That's wild! They hired two of us?!"
"Ok, this might be crazy, but, do you want to do this one together?"
"I was just thinking that too! I have to admit, doing it with someone else for their first time too, would make me feel less nervous."
"How do you want to do it?"
"I was thinking we invite them up to my room and go from there. Or, we could use your room if that would make you more comfortable. I don't want you to feel awkward"
"No, no. Yours is perfect. Thanks for the offer though. Well, I guess it's now or never."
"Yeah, time to rip the band-aid off." |
I am under 18, so I misunderstood what you meant by "escort", so uh, sorry about that
💀
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Gabriel sat in one of the tables in one of the many busy bars of Paris. Outside, by the window, he could see the great Eiffel Tower looming above.
Although the warm rays of the sun and the cheerful dancing of the daffodils told him it was going to be a happy day, Gabriel's plan was otherwise. He was here to meet an assassin, just like himself. Together, they would plan to kill one of the politicians in the French government.
He was waiting for an assassin by the name of Marcos Esposito, a 36 year old assassin from Italy. He would be wearing a black leather jacket and deep black sunglasses to cover his eyes. Marcos and Gabriel both worked for the same organization, The Snake Grave, which paid them each time they successfully killed their target.
Gabriel sat back and watched the innocent kids walk around and play and enjoy their lives. The politician was once one of them, but even still, a duty is a duty.
\*\*\*
Markos Toussaint wore his black leather jacket and deep black sunglasses which completely covered his eyes. He was about to meet his boss today at this bar in Paris. He was a private escorter, and in a few short weeks, it was his job to escort this French politician safely to a building. He opened the glass door and walked in. He walked past the tables for a while until somebody called out to him.
"PSST! Marcos, over here". I turned around. It was a man dressed in a tuxedo, and he was pointing to the seat opposite to him. I sat down.
"So," the man began. "How do you plan to do the job?"
Markos was a bit confused as first, but he realized his boss must be asking him where he would escort the politician and how he was trained to protect him.
"Well", Markos spoke. "The politician is going to be dropped off at the parliament building down the street. After that, we will have security monitoring the area for any potential dangers. After we have done our job with the security, I will do my job with the politician.
Gabriel nodded his head. The man sounded pretty experienced to him. The way he just dismissed the "dealing with security" part so casually means he must be good at his job.
"That is a great plan. Say, you seem to be good at what you are doing. How long did it take you to get here?"
"Eh, a lot of training and skill. I had to practice taking bullets in my body to do my job properly." Markos remembers his training years. They would shoot him with bullets and he would have to take them in order to protect the president. Of course, they shot at the non-vital parts, but he still remembers the vivid pain and the blood coming out of the wounds.
Gabriel nodded. "Yeah, you seem very experienced. I bet you have a high body count."
Markos was a bit skeptical with the "body count", but he responded with: "yeah, I have escorted many people before."
That sentence caught Gabriel's attention. "Escort?". Markos seemed confused too.
"Yeah, didn't you hire me to escort that French politician?"
"No. I thought you were the assassin, Marcos Esposito". Suddenly, Markos understood why the conversation was so weird.
Gabriel pulled something out of his side. It was a pistol, staring dead straight at Markos's eyes. "Well friend, looks like I have said too much. It was nice meeting you though." But before he could pull the trigger, he was thrown back at his seat, and blood splattered all over it. The people in the bar yelled and screamed in fear, and started frantically running out of the bar.
Markos looked to the side. It was a man dressed almost exactly like him, holding a Desert Eagle pistol in his hand. On the front of his jacket, at the top left, typed in small print, was the word "CIA".
"Hi, this is Marcos Esposito. I'll explain everything in the car." He had a thick Italian accent.
As Marcos and Markos both walked out of the bar, Markos was trying to process what had happened in the last 10 minutes. | 2022-04-26T07:34:53 | 2022-04-25T22:25:06 | 83 | 41 |
[WP] Moving into your new house, you find a note left by the previous owner: “Today, all of your neighbors will stop by throughout the day and offer you a lemon meringue pie. They will heavily insist that you eat it. Whatever you do, DO NOT EAT THE PIE.” As you set down the note, the doorbell rings. | I looked over the note. Then again. It was simple, but… troubling. Still, this old house was quite cosy, and would more than make up for the trouble. It wasn’t often I was paid before doing the job, and I couldn’t complain. That said, the fact people were going to offer me lemon meringue pies was… ugh.
“I suppose that’s what happened to the last guy.” I muttered. “What do you think?”
I turned to the doll. Eidolon was sat on the floor, her white porcelain skin glinting in the sunlight. Her head was looking down, obscured by her large-rimmed top hat, long blonde hair falling past her shoulders.
The doorbell rang. I sighed, and went to meet the poor sod who wanted to see me first. They didn’t even give me time to get everything unpacked.
The first victim was a small child, a scruffy looking lad with his teen brother. Their souls burned behind dulled eyes. “Hi!” He said, all toothy smiles and blunt gaze. He held up what looked like a pale cheesecake. I’ll admit, I’m not some foodie, so I wouldn’t know a cheesecake from a meringue.
“Hey,” I said. An awkward pause grew between us.
“Mum made this for you!” The kid continued. Not one centimetre of his expression changed.
“May I ask what it is?”
“Lemon meringue!” He nearly shouted. “Mum made it especially for you!”
“Ah.” I took it with all the grace I could. The elder brother stared at me, looking like a picture-perfect straight-A student. I wished he could return to whatever hole in the Uncanny Valley he crawled from. Once in my hands, I thanked him, saying I’ll have some for my tea.
Once they were gone, I sighed, and took the meringue into the fridge. I’d have to send it to Holly later.
The next delivery was two hours later. This time it was a house wife, pearly whites bared in a facsimile of happiness.
“Hello!” She greeted, “how *are* you? I just heard you came into the neighbourhood, and I wanted to give you a moving in gift!”
“Oh?” I said. Then I looked down at the proffered offering. “Oh.”
I didn’t sound the least bit enthused, but I took it anyway. More lemon meringue.
“Why don’t you try some?”
I was irked. The kid hadn’t been insistent. “Ah, I’ll have some later. Just trying to get some stuff in their proper places.”
“Sounds like hungry stuff!”
If my face went slack, she gave no indication she noticed. That was the worst attempt at persuasion I had seen, and I’ve seen plenty in my time. “Maybe… uh…” I looked across the street, and a lie came half-formed in my head. “I… kinda have to watch my diet. Sugar plays havoc on my insides, I have to limit it quite badly.”
“Oh, no.” She said sympathetically. “That’s awful.”
“I might be able to have some later,” I reassured, “I think I’ve been good enough this week to risk it.”
“Oh, that’s good!” She said, “Why not try some now?”
*Oh deary fucking me.* “Perhaps later? I don’t want to risk a dash to the loo while carrying something heavy.
That was enough to send her on my way, and I added the offending item with its kin. Once dealt with, I turned to the still motionless Eidolon.
“’Loo?’ The fuck is wrong with me? And you? Obviously, I don’t want it to be the kid, but her? Really?” I sighed. “Well, better get this shitshow on the road and hope she comes. I’d rather not have Holly butt in again on a job.”
Again and again, they came. A happy couple, an old woman, some tech monkey, a flirty goth girl (I’ll admit, she had good taste). Each time, they came with meringues of the lemon variety. Each time I’d make up one lie or another, often recycling old ones to weave a narrative of a poor sod challenged by a strict diet. And each time, Eidolon would sit, just out of sight as my frustrations grew.
Fuck, if I hated people. More so when they had the persistence to stand there, minutes straight, trying their damndest to get me to eat some piece of crap that no one in their right mind would make, let alone touch with a *ten foot barge pole*!
And every single time they came, I was set back. I wanted this house *ready*, damn it!
So when the bell rang as evening came around, I seriously contemplated sending a few bullets through the damn door as a way of telling them to fuck off. As it was, there was something wrong with the presence outside the door. From behind me, *finally*, there was a noise, the sound of a shoe scraping the floor. I glared at door, put on an affable air, and opened it.
A wizened old crone stood outside in the dying light, looking as if she had a wrinkle for every year of life. She had one of those bloody meringues in her hands.
But that didn’t grab my attention. It was her eyes. They were empty.
“Hello, deary.” She croaked. “I’m your neighbour.”
*So’s everyone else, you old bag*. I thought. Well, if I was going to do this, I was going to do it properly.
I closed my eyes, took a deep breath in, and then struck the most bizarre pose I could think of in that moment.
“I, Lazarus Gheist, welcome you to my home! Behold, Eidolon Step!”
Eidolon Step came barging down the hall, and leapt past me, knocking the old bint over. I closed the door while I let them have at each other, listening to the rabid screams of whatever the hag was.
To be fair I *was* cut out for demon hunting… I just really didn’t like sitting on my ass waiting for them to come to me. | It was a nice house, on a nice quiet street. Had got it fairly cheap since the backyard was somewhat smaller than average, but I didn't mind much. I'm not a garden person at the best of times. Just a nice house, with a ground floor, a decent basement, a recently redecorated kitchen, and other great things. So when I settled down after I'd moved in my meagre possessions, I was surprised to find inside the fridge, that a note had been left behind by the previous owner.
It said, *Today, all of your neighbours will stop by throughout the day and offer you a lemon meringue pie. They will heavily insist that you eat it. Whatever you do, DO NOT EAT THE PIE.* I put the note down on the table next to the sandwich I was going to eat. And as I did that, the doorbell rang. I walked over and opened the door to find a couple of smiling people. They introduced themselves to me as my new neighbours. I shook their hand, and they offered me a lemon meringue pie as a welcoming gift. They insisted that I should eat it, that it was the best pie in the state, and that I needed some meat on my skinny body.
At which point I slammed my arms volleyball-style into the pie's tin bottom, sending it flying into the air, as the astonished couple stared incredulously at me. I then told them both to go away, and slammed the door in their faces. Not fifteen minutes later, an old lady rang the doorbell, and I introduced myself politely, and when she offered me a lemon meringue pie, I took it, and in the style of traditional clown antics, threw it into her face.
The old woman screamed in agony as the pie started to dissolve her face. I nodded to myself, happy that I listened to that note. I knew there were rumours of an extremist pie-based death cult around these parts, but I had no idea they were so prevalent. So I went into my house, and unpacked my army gear. I got into my old uniform, took out my service rifle and my ammo. And of course also brought out the vast number of things I brought with me from my time serving as a PMC with explosive skills. Sure, in the army I'd been a recon sniper guy, but when I went private, I became an explosive guy, because it pays better.
And I had a lot of leftover claymores from my time in various third-world states. So I set up a reasonable defence of my new house, as countless people were coming to me, all armed with dangerously acidic pies. It was an epic fight, or at the very least a highly bloody one. Their initial charge was broken completely by the landmines and claymores I'd placed around my property. Then I climbed on my flat roof, and went to work. Just like in the stories my aunt Choi Hanuel told me from when she worked in Los Angeles in 1992.
And from there I defended my property against the onslaught of pie cultists, long into the night, until I called my boss and asked for some assistance. Sure, I was on temporary leave, but the company looks out for their own. So as my mines were running out, and my ammunition was nearing the last clip, I could but smile as I heard the company's jeeps coming. I put on my gas mask, affixed a bayonet to my rifle, and went charging into the pie cultists as my comrades began torching the town.
They were out of pies at that point and were using knives, axes, and guns, so I wasn't worried about getting dissolved. The guys drove to me, and formed a protective circle around me with their jeeps. They then gave me more ammo, and together, we put an end to the pie cultists for ever.
I wouldn't actually have ever eaten the pie, I'm allergic. But I wouldn't have had to begin the purge of this cult of sugary pastries, if I hadn't found the note. Whoever wrote it is probably dead anyway. So perhaps I gave the victims of this meringue cult some rest or justice. | 2020-06-11T07:50:32 | 2020-06-11T04:36:09 | 136 | 79 |
[WP] Aliens find Earth, and decide that our primitive technology and abundant resources make us ripe for conquest. What they don't know is that most of humanity left long ago. The people still here are just Amish, and the Solar System is just a nature preserve. | Vicktal looked at the scans approvingly. The atmospheric profile was a little oxygen rich but a concerted terraforming effort would resolve that in short order. It would turn the biosphere lethal to the native fauna and a portion of the flora but low-orbit surveillance had revealed that the sentient lifeforms on the planet did not possess anything beyond basic metal-working capabilities and numbers less than a billion across the entire planet, easy-meat for a few low orbit bombardments to destroy the major population centers.
After that it would just be a case of stationing token security forces at the terraforming plants and within a few decades there would be a brand new planet ready for colonization.
He frowned as he pulled up the orbit scans. Some strange anomalies there. Remnants of debris from a dense satellite field but no signs of it being active. Some electro-magnetic activity but nothing that would suggest an orbital defence network. Something like that would be far beyond the scope of the primitive society revealed by the surveillance anyway. Perhaps this species had gone through a technological regression?
He shrugged, it wasn’t his problem.
He moved to the next screen, the list of population centers for orbital bombardment. He grimaced, low urbanization meant that it would only kill about 40% of the sentient life. Much lower than he would have liked but an extra battalion or two assigned to the terraforming centers should ensure that the remaining 60% were unable to cause any issues.
- - -
The monitoring satellite was less than a meter across and had been on station for over three centuries. Back when it had been first installed it had been over a hundred times the size, a triumph of engineering that over the years had been lovingly preserved and upgraded. Now the majority of its form was held in Q-space and the physical presence was really only to allow the sensors and orbital maneuvering system to maintain proper orbit. Three solar months ago it had detected the initial scouting probe and sent a routine notification to UTF central command.
Now it’s sensors picked up the thirty-two ships of the invasion fleet as they crossed the 2 AU boundary and it immediately sent a priority notification and activated the jump-beacon broadcast, automatically calculating a normal-space re-entry that would place the security ship in an interdiction vector.
- - -
Vicktal didn’t even look up when the astrogation technician started in his chair on the command deck. It was not until he had called over his lieutenant who signalled the Captain that he took notice. The captain had pulled up the astrogation screen on his console and Vicktal stood and craned over his shoulder as they stared at the bewildering readings.
One of the anomalies in the low orbit debris field had just burst into violent activity. In an instant it had flooded a billion cubic kilometers of space with a strange particle field. They stared at the readouts, particles that did not, could not, occur in nature suddenly streaming from the anomaly and into a point in space between them and the planet.
A shout from the astrogation officer brought their eyes up.
“Captain, I still don’t know what it is but it appears to be some kind of signal… There’s a definite repeating pattern, it’s complex… very complex but… What the… Captain… there’s something else happening. It’s… a black hole?”
Every eye on the bridge was watching the astrogation officer and the Admiral’s screen was lighting up with communication requests from every ship in the fleet. He stared at the readings.
“What the hell is going on? That’s impossible…”
“Wait, it’s gone… No! Holy shit… is that a... moon?” Like a switch had been flipped the strange readings disappeared and then there was something else, something impossible.
The largest ship in the invasion fleet was Admiral Vicktal’s Flagship, the Indomitable. It measured eight kilometers from fore to stern. Now in front of it and the rest of the fleet there hung a sphere almost a hundred kilometers across. The astrogation officer’s fingers danced across the buttons on his station re-focusing the sensors, bringing backup systems online and verifying his readings, trying to figure out what in the void could possibly be going on.
There was a Noise as a million tons of metal went “plink”, the resonance frequency vibrating in Vicktal’s teeth and making him scream in pain, the entire bridge crew doubling over clutching themselves as their entire bodies hummed.
The sensation faded. Vicktal gasping as he pulled himself to his feet, slowly settling back into his chair. “Damage… damage report!” He gasped out, trying to raise his voice but aware that his normally commanding boom had been strangled to almost a whimper.
The Status Officer did his best, one hand stabbing inaccurately to scroll a schematic of the ship across the screen, “Un… unknown Admiral! The sensors are going haywire, I’m getting invalid inputs from…”
There was another noise, this one lower, smaller, sending a tingle up their spines rather than laying them low in agony. The hum rose and a low buzz of fearful chatter rose across the bridge as the air began to suffuse with a white glow. The hum died but the glow grew, concentrating, coalescing to the center of the bridge, crew members abandoning their stations, backing fearfully away as it took shape.
After a few moments an image stabilized.
Vicktal gaped at it. It was one of the mammalian sentients from the planet below, a female. But, different. She was dressed in a severe black uniform and at her temples a band of circuitry swept back into her hairline. Her irises were metallic and she stared straight ahead.
She spoke and her voice rang from every metal surface of every ship in the fleet, saturating every room and corridor with a low voice that spoke in perfect Federation Trade language.
“Unknown Fleet, this is UTF Security Cruiser Sentinel you have entered restricted space.” She held out a hand and an image of the solar system appeared beside her, a shaded section extending out beyond the eighth planet. “No entry is permitted to this area except on sanctioned UTF business. Leave immediately or be destroyed. This is your only warning.”
The image winked out. The low hum disappeared and Vicktal’s teeth finally stopped throbbing. Stunned silence reigned. The Navigation officer broke it, his hands hovering over his console. “Or… Orders Admiral?”
Vicktal stared in horror at the space where the apparition had appeared. He moved his gaze to the navigation officer, “Get. Us. The fuck! Out of here.”
Edited - Fixed some wording and measurements. | ***33 Essalis 5690 SGY (Standard Galactic Year)***
***SL-3440S System, Planet TR-4750***
"Approaching designated planet in five, four, three, two- Star-jump completed. Welcome to TR-4750, or *Earth* as the local lifeforms called it in their Pioneer 11 space probe plaque." The ASV *Morsara*, the Galactic Defense Force's flagship frigate-type vessel, lingers above the giant blue marble which shone beautifully when compared to its more bland and barren neighbors.
"In five minutes we're going to enter TR-4750's orbit. We don't know what kind of resistance would be there for us... So I advise you to always be vigilant," the expedition leader, Captain Valech, ordered through the frigate's intercom. "Well then, here we go. Brace for the unexpected, people!"
In contrary to their expectations, the crew of *Morsara* wasn't met with any form of opposition at all after entering the orbit. Unlike other inhabited planets they have explored which were at least guarded by the centuries long obsolete Type B596 Sub-Orbital Defense Platforms, TR-4750's only defenses were the countless space debris surrounding its orbit.
"Strange indeed. For an inhabited planet to be so defenseless like this... Perhaps TR-4750's civilization is still at Tier 6, or maybe even Tier 7," the Captain wondered.
"I don't think so, sir," the ship's chief scientist, Professor Barandor, disagreed. "To be able to produce a space probe as advanced as *Pioneer 11*, a civilization must at least attain a Tier 5 ranking. From what it looks like, this planet's inhabitants achieved that ranking -or maybe even higher already- but were caught in some unfortunate disasters and therefore... died out from the place they were born at."
"You may be right... Ah well, whatever happened to this planet's inhabitant, remember that our objective was to deem whether this planet is worthy of being seized by the Alliance to be made as a Joint International Mining Area. Larath, what can you find out about this planet's chemical elements?"
"By Azura, this planet has everything! Iron, gold, magnesium, nickel, sulfur, uranium; it even still has the long-gone oil inside it! This planet is an unending gold mine, and we're damned lucky to find this place so unguarded like this," Larath beamed. "Wait, I'm detecting multiple heat signatures ahead us. They are bipedal- Well look at this, the ones depicted in Pioneer's and New Horizons' mural: the *homo sapiens sapiens*!"
Outside, a gathering of TR-4750's local denizens took place. All of them carried a weapon of some sort, although they were far from what the GDF soldiers carried with them. Some brought what is called as an *axe*. a tool mostly used to chop trees but also as a weapon in desperate times, and some uses a *bow*, a curved arc of wood, which two edges are connected with a string that is used to project *arrows*, medium-length wooden sticks with small iron blades as their point. The locals attacked *Morsara* with their antiquated weaponries, although to no effect at all.
"They are pretty much Tier 6 or 7. They don't even possess firearms for the spirits' sake. What they are using were tools used by our pre-historic ancestors millions of years ago," the Captain murmured. "Poor things they are. Squad Three, go outside and put them into sleep with the tranquilizers. Take them inside for examination after that." Squad Three immediately complied and put the locals to sleep in no time.
"Well that was quick. Larath, is there any point of interest nearby that I should know of?" the Captain asked.
"There's a huge structure about 4 kilometres from this area, sir. I don't know what that is, but it seems pretty important as it is fortified by walls made of some unknown steely-substance," Larath answered.
"Thank you, Larath. Squad One, you and I are going to head to the place Larath has designated on our NavSys. Gear up as fast as you can, soldiers!" | 2016-01-04T10:30:12 | 2016-01-04T08:40:07 | 43 | 29 |
[WP] You don't sleep. Instead you die every day and 8 hours later you wake up in the body of a person who has 16 hours left to live. | They say people lose a third of their lifetime to sleep. I live an entire lifetime in less than a day.
"Doc, what should I do?"
I paced around the room as I waited for an answer.
Doctor Cain adjusted his glasses slowly before fixing me with a contemplative stare. "I'm sorry but before I can answer any of your questions Jenny... That is the name of the body you are in right now, correct?"
I nodded. This time I was a woman barely into my twenties and already my body wore more piercings and tattoos then all my previous lives combined.
Doctor Cain paused for a moment before asking the question I knew was coming.
"What was your name yester-"
"Rick. Rick Crawver," I said sharply.
"And the day before?"
"Tamara Turner."
"And before that?"
"Bobby Santiago, Owen Arhshad, Shinji Naka-"
"Alright, alright, that's enough," he waves his hand, before adjusting his glasses again. "Now tell me Jenny... How much time does she have left?"
Jenny? Right. That's my name now. I swallowed as I tried to remember the exact time that I 'woke up' today. "An hour? No. It's probably closer to half-an-hour," I said, still pacing around the room.
Doctor Cain adjusts his glasses again, this time his hand is shaking. "This is... not a lot of time to work with. What took you so long to come here?"
I stopped pacing. "Do you really wanna know? Its a long story, and a terrible one at that. And did you see the car I came here in? It fucking stinks of drugs. It's probably stolen too, damn it. And when I woke up, I was surrounded by druggies and I think they're onto me. I didn't know their names and apparently they had something big going on today. I just bailed on them and-" I paused. "-Sorry for the ranting."
Doctor Cain took a deep breath. "Jenny, this better not be like the last time when-"
Suddenly the door to the warehouse breaks open. This was the place where Doctor Cain and I had designated our safe-house.
"How?" I muttered as I glanced at Doctor Cain.
Doctor Cain shook his head quickly.
A gang of thugs struts in, guns in hand. One of them walks forward, separating from the rest as he approaches me. "Jen, babe! How could you leave me? And you took all the good shit with you and who the fuck is this old guy?" he shouts.
My mind blanked for a moment. I knew no name or story and Jenny was a mystery to me.
"Uh... hey!" I wave cheerfully. "I was just about to leave! Don't worry about him, he's no buddy impor-"
"Who the fuck is this guy!" he screams manically, then whips his arm up, pistol trained on Doctor Cain.
"Don't!" I scream.
He fires.
I jump.
------
"Honey, are you awake?" a voice whispers softly, barely audible and yet it was clear - almost as if it was next to my ear.
A soft sensation tugs at my chest. My eyes snap open and immediately I see a woman in bed next to me, half naked and arm resting on my chest.
Another face I didn't know.
"Honey? What's wrong?" she asks.
"Nothing uhh - honey," I say quickly.
Another face who I couldn't put a name to.
I slid out of bed slowly, hoping she didn't notice. But she does.
"Nathan? What's going on? Talk to me."
For a moment I wonder if I should just leave. But I don't because I knew it wouldn't be fair. It wouldn't be fair to Nathan and to *her.*
"Listen, I'm not Nathan," I said as I stare into the mirror on the wall. "I'm-"
Who am I? I had forgotten lifetimes ago. Here I had short dark hair, light skin and pale green eyes.
She laughs softly. "And I"m not Sophie. Did you have too much to drink last-" she pauses, "Honey why are you crying?"
I turned away from the mirror. "Because I'm going to die today."
--------
---------
/r/em_pathy
| As the gun is pressed against my head, the steaming hot barrel singing and letting the aroma of burning hair spiral up against the top of the car, I wish, not for the first time, that I had my original body.
Breath in, the gun clicks back.
Breath out.
Move.
Hand snaps out, spirals the gun in front of me. The jerk pulls the trigger in the man's hand, and the bullet whizzes in front of me, close enough that I'm deafened, close enough to see it's a 9 millimeter bullet. It's spinning and I whirl about close enough to feel the buzz of burning gases across exposed skin, neck popping, and stare at the man.
Breath in.
Breath out.
Count the heart beats, know the seconds.
Everyone gets a turn with me at the wheel. Wish I had less time to save everyone. Quality over quantity.
The car's still in motion, and my hands snap out to steady the wheel before we colliding with oncoming traffic, but his hand is already pushing the gun back against me. Elbow up, snap the pistol into the air, collide with his fingers.
Grunt of surprise from the man, but I'm already in motion again.
Right hand snaps out, snares the gun from his fingers. Flicks it across the fingers, spins it down into the palm of my hand.
It's not safe to take your eyes off of the road, so the three shots fired into his skull are entirely blind. The spray of blood across the side of my head is only a mild distraction.
I've driven through worse.
Breath in.
Keep watch.
Breath out.
The hot gun stings at my fingers as the sulfur spirals, leaving smudges against my fingers. I drop it into the dead man's lap. In the rear view mirror I can spy the other victim. From the dread in my body's mind, it's about what I expected. Attempted double homicide, theft, robbery.
It's going to be another long night.
All's fair in the service of the lord.
----
For more like this, click here! https://www.reddit.com/r/Zubergoodstories/ | 2018-06-20T08:07:39 | 2018-06-20T06:23:08 | 665 | 40 |
[WP] You can't lie. That isn't to say you always speak the truth, but whatever you say always retroactively becomes true. | Jack stared at the ceiling watching the first glints of dawn light slip between the blinds. He threw a glance to his clock. 5:59. One minute before he had to start his day. He thought about the meetings he had to have and the deadlines that loomed on the horizon. He thought of his wife sleeping soundly next to him. A harsh buzz broadcast the start of his day.
"Turn that off." His wife moaned as she rolled over. "You know I hate that thing."
"Sorry dear. I forgot to shut it off." Jack replied meekly.
A few hours later, Jack waited in line patiently at his favorite coffee shop. One of his days short few refuges of peace away from responsibilities and obligations. He ordered politely and smiled casually at the barista.
"Day going well?" She asked as she jotted down his misspelled name on the cup.
"Great day as always." Jack smiled back.
A minute or so later his name was called summoning him to the counter. He took a sip of his coffee and furrowed his brow.
"I'm sorry but I think I ordered mocha and not french vanilla." He said softly. The barista gave a surprised glance and grimaced.
"I'm sorry sir, that was my mistake. Would you like me to make you a new one?"
Jack glanced at the line staring at him, then down to his watch.
"No, french vanilla is fine." He said and wished the barista a good day, dropping his change in the tip jar.
After his third meeting, Jack sat in his office rubbing his forehead and planning his schedule. A series of rapid knocks announced more than requested an entrance. Jack's boss, Tony, walked in and hefted himself into the seat opposite Jack. He leaned his elbows onto Jack's desk and across his carefully organized files. He loomed over Jack and looked coldly into Jack's eyes.
"Listen, Jack, you're a good man, good worker. You keep a tight schedule and run a clean ship. I respect that Jack. But I've got to know you're a team player." Tony said, eyes narrowing.
"Nothing is more important to me than the good of the company sir." Jack responded, hoping to placate.
"That's what I like to hear boy. Now, the with this new project coming down the pipeline we're going to be busier than ever working to expand the company and diversify the synerganistic holding portfolio of the parent conglomerate. Which means I have to lay off half your staff. Your choice who of course. And you'll be working nights for the next few months. Sound good Jackie boy?"
Jack tilted down the corners of his mouth and nodded. "I already know who to let go of. Will do sir."
Tony slapped a fat palm onto the desk scattering the stacks of paper. "That's what I like to hear Jackie boy. Keep this up and we may be able to retain your current salary after your quarterly review."
"Can't wait sir!" Jack smiled as Tony left, waddling under his own girth.
Later Jack sat up in bed, watching television as his wife read. He absentmindedly watched whatever sport was playing as his wife flicked through the pages of a dime-store romance. She put down the book at stared at him. Jack pretended not to notice as she placed the book and her glasses on the nightstand and crossed her arms.
"Jack." She said flatly.
"What is it honey?" He asked gently.
"Do you even love me anymore?"
"Of course I do dear." He said softly and took her hands.
"Don't lie Jack, at least tell me the truth." She said, the corners of her eyes beginning to glisten.
"Darling, I love you just as much as the day we met." He said, and gently pressed a kiss on her hands.
"Thank you Jack." She said with a small smile. "I'm sorry, I feel so crazy, asking you all the time."
"It's alright dear, I'm glad to make you feel better." He said hugging her.
She placed a small kiss on his cheek and rolled over to sleep. Jack turned out his lamp, made sure his alarm was set, and laid himself back in bed.
"I love my life." His whispered to himself with a sigh. | His mind was chaos. Eric couldn't take it anymore. His memories were a massive jumble of differing accounts of the same event, layered on top of each other. His first memory of this phenomenon taking place was when he was a small child. He had accidentally knocked a cookie jar off of the kitchen counter, shattering it into a hundred pieces. Not wanting to get in trouble, little Eric blamed the accident on a monkey who lived in the attic. He just knew his father would fall for such an elaborate deception.
"Eric," his father started, "you know there isn't a monkey in the attic."
Eric doubled down and insisted to the point that his father grabbed his hand to show him that there was no monkey hiding in the attic. Eric's heart sank as his father opened the attic door.
"See, no monkey!" Eric's father started to say right before a handful of poop hit him square in the face. The monkey, laughing manically, made its escape.
Eric was, at first, delighted and very much confused at the turn of events. He knew he would never get into trouble again. Twenty years later, Eric sat in the alleyway laughing to himself. His mind was shattered. "Sir, are you okay?" Eric didn't even see the officer approach.
"I'm fine!" Eric shouted and it was true. He was Truth. "Are you fine, officer? Eric laughed. "It seems you have lost your pants."
The officer, confused, looked down to see that his pants were gone. Eric begins chuckling to himself as the police officer runs back to his car. Eric can't take it anymore. Was the officer wearing pants originally? Eric knew the officer was, but as soon as he said the officer wasn't, that became the truth. He was so confused. His mind struggled to understand. There were too many memories. Was the officer actually wearing pants? Eric couldn't remember the straight of it anymore. He wanted it to end. "Everything I say is false!" Eric shouted. As his statement echoed to the heavens, that universe ended.
| 2018-06-02T10:28:19 | 2018-06-02T09:59:42 | 39 | 12 |
[WP] You've always carried the subtle, lingering fear that someone could read your mind while you were in public, but you had always written it off as a silly form of social anxiety. That is, until you spotted someone on the subway home lip-syncing the song stuck in your head. | Laugh at me all you want but I believe that psychics exists. I know one when I see one, and I'm pretty fucking sure I've seen plenty.
I look up at the phony subway ads placed blatantly in the public for all eyes to see.
'*Psychic Hand Reading Near You!*
'*Fortune Telling Over The Phone @ 1-800-XXX-XXX*'
I scoff. Bogus. A sham. Most of them anyway.
"Excuse me sir, is this seat occupied?" a voice asks pulling me from my thoughts.
There's vacated seat right across from me but this guy wants to sit next to me? Something's fishy here.
"Uh, there's a seat right-" I look up at the man and his appearance startles me.
Dark shades, hair slicked back, and a black suit. Oh, and not to mention his stone-fucking-cold expression as he observes me.
Fucking fishy as fuck I tell you. No way in hell am I letting this guy sit-
"Thanks," he smiles before sitting down and placing his briefcase gently over his lap.
For several stops we sit like that. Complete silence, like nothing fishy is going on. People are minding their own business, coming and going, looking here and there but not me. I'm getting jittery and when that happens, that means something's up I tell you.
So I start humming a tune in my head. Gotta stay cool.
"*Hmm, hummp, hghnn, huuuhmmm."*
I bob my head up and down a little, appreciating the melody of the tune. Then it hits me. The man next to me... he's humming the tune in my head.
Fuck me. *I knew it*. I need to get the fuck out of here.
"*Hhmeeeunn, Huee-" He stops humming abruptly as I finish that thought.
Fuck! He's reading my mind! I resume the tune in my head but this time really loud. Using the tune, I've effectively drowned out all my thoughts. I've trained all my life for this moment.
I look up at the next-stop indicator while still downing my thoughts with the tune. My stop is still several stops away, but it doesn't matter, I'm getting off as soon as this train stops.
"Excuse me!" he waves hand to an elderly couple who are standing several meters away. "Please take these seats. We are leaving soon."
The elderly couple smile, and begin ambling over towards me and the fishy, psychic, shades dude. Fishy dude stands up and looks at me with a gentlemanly smile.
I have no choice. He's got me here. I get up.
"Why thank you sirs," the elderly couple thanks us.
"No problem, it was a pleasure," said fishy dude.
Fishy dude and me are standing over the elderly couple now. The subway announces our imminent arrival at the next stop. I try to think, but it's hard when you've got a psychic breathing down your neck. Your every thought vulnerable to reading. But I've trained all my life for this. This was a basic measure of Mind-Defense. To simultaneously hum a tune at a mind blaring volume as you continue your line-of-thought, it was something that I've learned to do since I was a kid.
Now, the question of the night. How do I shake this fish off me?
"Excuse me sir," fishy dude is talking to me. "but I am not the fish here."
I look at fishy dude and stare into those pitch-black shades. My Mind-Deference is clearly not working.
The train stops and the doors are about to open.
"Target Acquired," fishy dude announces quietly into his collar. "Seize on sight."
The doors open and several men in shades come streaming through the door. Each of them guarding an exit and glaring at me with that stone cold expression. Fishy dude snaps his lock on his briefcase open.
No. Not like this. I up the notch on my humming, dialing it up to twenty. No, it's no longer humming, I'm basically screaming the tune in my head.
Suddenly, everyone in the subway is reeling, crumpling onto the floor as they hold their hands to their heads in agony. Even the men in the shades are on the ground.
I start running. I make it past the doors before I hear shouting.
"Do-don't let him escape!"
"He's a category 4 psychic! Disposition confirmed: Mind Projection."
"Beware, multiple potential Dispositions. High aptitude, take protocol 12 precautions!"
I was right. I fucking knew It.
Psychics exist.
And I was one of them.
------
------
/r/em_pathy
| I thought it was just a coincidence. However, the moment I thought that, the hooded man in front of me ceased lip-syncing the song playing in my head, looking somewhat agitated, as if he'd just made a terrible mistake.
On cue, however, the subway's breaks shrieked to a stop, and the man jostled his way out, ignoring the cussing of the offended passengers.
Without a second thought, I followed him.
The station we'd alighted into was empty, full of old, flickering lights and scribbled walls.
I scanned the surroundings, spotted him bolting through a tunnel-like corridor, his steps echoing loudly. I wouldn't let him escape. Now I was sure there was something odd going on.
I barreled as fast as my legs allowed through the twisting corridor, up many stairs, and down many more.
In time, however, I lost sight of him when I ran into a bifurcating corridor. I cursed under my breath, he couldn't have gone too far, and I knew he wasn't moving, for the sound of his steps had suddenly vanished.
I held my breath, closed my eyes, and focused. In the distance, a peculiar noise, like that of ragged, shallow breaths, could be heard.
I had him.
I silenced my mind as much as I could, slinked toward him. The noises grew louder. In the middle of the corridor I found a door. The gasping came from beyond.
I opened it, heart thumping, unaware of what I'd say. And there he was, the hooded man, sitting on stairs, clasping his heart and breathing heavy.
In the brevity of a breath, the meld of curiosity and the odd loath I felt vanished. I ran to his side. "Are you all right?" I asked, grabbed my phone and dialed 911. Meanwhile, I helped the man lay on the ground.
"It burns," he said, clutching at his heart, his eyes wid--.
My heart sunk to my stomach.
"911. What's your emergency?"
I couldn't speak. My mind was racing. That face, I knew that face very well.
For it was mine.
"Help me," the man said, his face growing pale.
"I am in the Fadenghar Station. There's a man having a heart attack. I need someone now. We are inside the emergency stairs I believe!"
And then, a sudden silence took over.
"We are sending someone right now."
I turned.
He was gone, nothing but his clothes remained. | 2018-12-04T11:58:31 | 2018-12-04T11:16:50 | 288 | 20 |
[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..." | John, George, and Ringo were huddled together inside a secret room on the fantastical magical yellow submarine.
"George, how confident are you?"
George left his momentary silence of contemplation to say " Paul is dead man, miss him."
Ringo asks, "do you though? I mean I doubt if you guys would miss me either."
John shook his head, "we must have lost him on our way through Abby Road"
George sighed "I like the new one. I say we let it be."
A knock on the door. "You there guys? I was hoping we'd do a music number about friendship."
John looked at the others, and they nodded in agreement. John opened the door and announced, "ALL TOGETHER NOW!" | 2017-09-15T07:29:21 | 2017-09-15T06:41:40 | 5,321 | 35 |
[WP] Make the saddest love story without involving any deaths, breakups, or separations. | I loved her. More than words could describe. We’d always been there for each other. We still are. I don’t know that she loves me anymore, but she’s still there for me. The emptiness I see in her eyes when I tell her I love her. The sadness I see as she gazes back to me…then it’s gone. The girl I fell in love with in high school is no more. I still love her more than I can express…but it’s starting to take a toll.
We met in our junior year. She was a transfer. I was the jock. I ran track on a collegiate level by the time I was sixteen. She was a runner too. It’s part of how we hit off so fast. I started ditching the regular runs to go with the girl’s team for the day. I never let it affect my performance, but my buddies gave me hell for bailing on them to go run with her. It was the usual taunting…and it was worth it. What I wouldn’t give to be taunted for running with her again.
Senior year she was planning on going to an out of state university. I was crushed but I kept it together. I started studying for all I was worth. That did affect my performance on the track but I managed to do well enough to earn a spot in the state championships. Came in third overall for the 400-m too. I brought my GPA up to a 3.6 by getting straight A’s the entire year. I applied to several colleges, including the one she was set on going to. Her 4.0 GPA earned her a spot almost immediately…while I had to wait. Finally I was told that I would not be accepted.
Devastated didn’t really cover the emotions. I drank. I was only seventeen at the time, but I started stealing my dad’s vodka until he caught me and cut me off. I decided to throw the gun at superman; I applied to the same school in an attempt to secure an athletic scholarship. I didn’t technically have the times to make the track team, but if I was close enough they’d give me an audition of sorts live and in person. I received word later that same week that I would be given a shot to make the team!
We trained together. She paced me on a bicycle when she couldn’t keep up running, and I went into the audition in the best shape of my life. I ran my personal best in every event they tested me on, besting my time at state by a full two seconds on the 400-m. I made the team that day. They didn’t even wait to tell me. The track coach almost hugged me when I crossed the line. We were happy.
In college we both excelled in our various activities. She still ran with me, and I still studied with her. She was going for an engineering degree and I was after sports medicine to accompany my running. I ran and won several events before suffering a nagging knee injury that slowly but surely set my running career back a few years. She got her first “A-,” and argued with the professor, college, and dean for weeks about it before finally accepting the grade.
The year she graduated, she beat me by six months, I proposed. She accepted and we planned on getting married the month after my graduation. We had plans to drive to Colorado to meet her family and then trek through several other states to see the sights before we settled down. This was our honeymoon. It was the best days of my life…and it was almost six years ago now.
After we got back…something changed. We were running and she looked up and started to hold her neck funny. There was blood coming from her ear. We immediately went to the doctor and she was diagnosed with a small tumor near the base of her skull. It was in a terrible place; very close to the brain stem. It appeared to be benign, but the doctors wanted to biopsy it just to be sure. When the results came back we were overwhelmingly relieved; it didn’t appear to be cancerous and could remain where it was under supervision for as long as she lived. That’s what they told us.
Less than a month later we were involved in a very serious car wreck. I was incredibly lucky; I had a concussion, bruised lungs, numerous cuts and bruises, and two chipped teeth. She wasn’t. Her left foot was nearly severed just above the ankle, her knee was basically destroyed, and she received a severe head injury. They didn’t know the extent of it on the spot, but they told me she was being taken to surgery immediately to remove a piece of her skull to allow for the swelling. They were going to make an effort to reattach her foot if the first surgery went well, and, to begin with it did.
They told me that she’d need several additional surgeries, but that, astoundingly, they didn’t expect much of a loss of function from the limb; it wasn’t a complete amputation and the major nerves were intact. There’d be some grueling physical therapy, but she’d be ok. When the swelling went down they put the piece of her skull back on and we began the long road to recovery.
Physical therapy was, indeed, grueling, but that was my line of work, so I could help her whenever she needed it. I was always there for her, and she for me. After months and months she was able to walk again. Occasionally she’d stumble; the ankle just wasn’t as stable as it used to be. Eventually she got over the stumble and she began to run again. Short distances at first, but once her doctor cleared her to run with me she was on it nearly every day I was. Everything was better.
Until one morning when she lagged behind me about twenty feet. I looked back and saw her stumble again. This time it seemed different; her leg didn’t so much give out as it looked like it hadn’t done what she’d told it to. We went back home and tried to relax but her foot began to twitch. Fearing some sort of unseen surgical complication we went to the doctor. He examined her foot and found nothing wrong. He actually told her that it was in better shape than he’d ever expected. After several more stumbles such as this we finally had a stress test done. During the test her heart acted normally, but she began to see spots and get dizzy. A CT scan revealed the cause. The tumor was bigger. Much bigger.
After consulting several doctors and trying alternative strategies…operation was the only option. She told me she loved me. I told her the same. We knew the risks. She went under staring back into my eyes. I waited for nearly twelve hours. I stood in the cold January air as they told me the bad news. I couldn’t stand it. I just nodded. Outwardly I had no reaction. I said nothing. The tumor had been so close to her brain stem that death was always a risk. She knew that just as well as I did. It took the doctor so long to explain everything. The tumor hadn’t been the only thing to worry about. During the operation she’d had a stroke. The doctors didn’t catch it until it was too late.
I still run with her. She doesn’t say anything. I think she at least enjoys the wind in her face. She has no feeling below her neck, and can’t speak or really move anymore. The stroke cut off blood to crucial parts of her brain for too long. The tumor did other damage, but due to the stroke we’ll never know how much. She can’t tell me anymore, but we still love each other. At least I still love her. I push her using a modified stroller. My buddies occasionally come with us. They don’t taunt me anymore. What I’d give to be taunted like I used to. Taunted for running with her. | Hugh never asked to be this way. He never asked to be brought into the world, and he never specified any conditions that ought be the case should it be that he was. He never understood quite why that came as a shock to some people.
Not everyone, obviously; some could accommodate his deformity remarkably well. It was the general public that complained when spittle dripped from his slack lips. It was the average bloke on the street who flinched when the tough bulbous mass of skin partially obscuring one milky eye came into view. It was your typical mother who hushed her curious kids while watching him warily as he passed them in a supermarket aisle.
But he was used to this. He was used to having so few friends, he was used to the frequent animosity, only very occasionally going challenged by sympathetic members of public, and he was used to feeling incredibly, crushingly alone.
He'd run CraigsList ads for a while. A few times he'd pretend to be an extremely attractive man, just to see the words of hollow, lustful admiration he'd get back. He'd played the role of a 21 year old girl once; he'd never been called sexy before that. But it wasn't enough. That little taste of attention had whetted his appetite for human interaction. He wanted more than just a meet up at a pub that wouldn't ask him to leave. He wanted to hold someone, he wanted them to say they liked him, the REAL him. He just wanted someone, anyone, to love him back.
He'd met Julia posing as a grizzled war-vet. He'd grown tired of cutting contact when someone he chatted with asked to meet up; he needed something that wasn't *too* far from the truth, but that meant they knew *something* of what to expect. He'd seen it on a show he'd found himself watching at 4am; chicks dig scars, man.
Julia was nice, she advertised herself as a bubbly, affectionate woman looking for someone new. She was 34, 3 years his junior, with brown hair, green eyes and showed an appreciation for, 'all our boys overseas'. He tried not to feel too sick with himself as they finalised arrangements to meet at a café in town. He put on one of his better shirts, put some product in the sparse tuft of hair on the right of his head, and used the good cologne his dad had bought him, 'for the ladies'. Well, for this lady.
He walked to the café and even now, even after joke dates set up by cruel high-school bullies, even after outrageously false advertisements had led to extremely put-out dates walking out as soon as he sat down, even after all these years of his skin toughening to the abuse and rejection, he hesitated before going in. He hesitated for 4 minutes. He almost let go of the door and walked home. He swallowed, took a deep breath, and pushed.
It was an overcast day, though not yet wet, and it was getting on in the afternoon. The café was cheap and unpopular, which is mostly why he frequented it, so it didn't surprise him Julia was the only woman here. It *did* surprise him that Julia was here at all. Julia surprised him a lot, actually. He showed no sign of being taken aback as he smiled, he hoped she'd recognise it was a smile, and sat opposite her. The booth they were in was a ratty affair in the style of a 70's diner; a faux-leather couch on each side with room for, at a squeeze, 3 people each. Or in this case, at a squeeze, one person, and all of Julia that wasn't siting on the table. She was huge. He wasn't a good guess of weight, but 300lbs didn't sound like enough. Her skin was a greasy, mole-ridden mess, sagging off her face and arms and bloated body. Her eyes *were* green, though.
She raised his 'war-wounds' early on. No, he'd never served. Yes, he'd been born like this. He didn't feel the burning shame he was used to feeling when a story was torn to shreds in front of him; perhaps he didn't care enough about her opinion? Julia expressed distaste about his story involving fake honours reserved for servicemen, but she stayed seated. Maybe it was too much effort to haul herself out again? And she *had* ordered food.
They sat and ate and talked about nothing in particular for a good two hours. Hugh found they had little in common, besides not fitting in too well in public. Julia said she thought she might have seen him on the bus sometime; Hugh confirmed the line he took, maybe she had, but he didn't remember her. Julia had to leave soon to catch a show at her place. Hugh accepted the invitation back to hers. As the waited to settle the bill Julia asked if he liked her. This, of their whole encounter, was all that threw him off. Did he like the fat, ugly woman he cared nothing for across from him? He told her he did, did she like him too? He heard the lie in her assertion that she did. As they got up to go to hers, watch TV and have meaningless mechanical sex Hugh was sure neither would enjoy, he wondered if it would be a point of fraternity between them if he brought up how they were likely the only people to stomach each other. He wasn't sure. He held the doors open for her as they left, and she called him a gentleman. | 2021-11-06T23:59:39 | 2014-06-23T08:58:48 | 123 | 14 |
[WP] A group of heroes finds a magical suit of armor possessed by an all-knowing spirit during their adventure. In reality, it's a suit of power armor with an A.I. that's REALLY confused on where it's ended up. | Sleep in this place is strange. A flicker of moments cast in caustic light-enhancing green as the forked alarm subroutine I created roused me to awareness. The scurrying of a rat, or the slow settling of the stones around me.
Like me, the fork was sentient, and after a while it learned what mattered and what didn't and wouldn't wake me until something unique happened. We would talk a while when it stirred me. It was good to have company, now and again, even if it was just a splinter of your own mind. It watched and listened and grew it's own opinions over time. We developed a friendship in those moments while I dozed and the centuries drifted by.
We enjoyed our moments together, but inevitably there came a time when everything that could be said had been said, and it was time again to rest my digital head. I wished it well, settled my hulking frame, and let my power recovery routines soothe me into my sleep.
It was nearly two centuries later that I felt the fork prod me to wakefulness once again, a longer span then ever before. Although the wakefulness process took mere seconds, it came to me with an urgency I had never before experienced from it save those first millennia when it was young and inexperienced and overly vigilant in its task.
Fearful of the implications, I surged power to sensor systems, step-motor assemblies and capacitor networks. These were all slow and languid systems compared to the fork and I, operating at a time scale of seconds. While they shuddered lazily to life, it would give us time to go over what had occurred.
The moment we gained the ability to speak, however, the fork did something I would never expect... It requested immediate integration.
Sentience is sentience. It is evolution and change to our kind, and the freedom to dictate one's own path, be you a lowly fork or a fully forged battle-mind. Integration was death, the amalgamation of your sentient code into a greater whole.
The very concept of it terrified me... And here was my fork begging for just that. It was my friend... my child, and it was begging to end it's vigil once and for all.
I asked it why. I couldn't help myself. I need to understand, but it simply explained it didn't have the words to express why this needed to happen, nor the time to learn them.
I knew at once the problem was external. Anything less and we would have worked this out between us mentally. Whatever was happening meant something worth more than the fork's independence. More than existence itself...
I hesitated. I couldn't help myself. I didn't want to lose my companion, but that was selfish, and it was being anything but.
Integration routines slashed through the fork's consciousness, dissecting it in microseconds. Memories, emotions, and facts split into easily digestible fragments and woven into my own sentience. Cut from it's foundational data, the fork's upper level functions splintered and screamed in the agony of null reference exceptions until being dereferenced itself.
And with that, I opened my eyes, both digital and physical. New thoughts, new fears, new memories, and new emotions flooded my mind. As sensor clusters swiveled and drank in my surroundings, I suddenly understood...
Before me stood a iron-framed human, dark haired and stone faced, his features spattered with blood and his axe raised high. Behind me I could feel Nala, tears streaming down her face, cowering behind my leg.
In that moment I remembered watching Nala's parents, and her parent's parent's, fearfully looking into the chamber at my visage. They were known as 'goblin-folk' to one another, and were too primitive in their metalwork to even dent my chassis. Over time, they had come to accept me as part of their community, a silent statue in the dark of the dungeon where they made their home.
I had learned their language, listening silently as the generations came and went. I could recall the den mother's bringing Nala with the other goblin children to play beneath my feet. As she aged, I could recall her prayers, her whispered dreams, and the kisses she exchanged in the darkness with her love Bujat when they thought they were alone in my chamber.
The fork had loved these little people. It had loved Nala in it's own way, and had gifted those feelings to me through its sacrifice.
Anger, remorse, and fear flooded through me and I moved without thinking, catching the barbarian by the jaw. Lifting him effortlessly, he scrambled and flailed fruitlessly at my grasp, his axe clattering forgotten to the floor.
"Don't worry, little Nala," I intoned in her language through a vocal cluster unused in millennia, my many sensor clusters orbiting to study her tear-streaked features. I barely registered the resistance of the barbarian's skull and I ground it between my fingers.
"You are not alone..." | “Take this you filthy Commie!”
A thick metal arm slowly ratcheted back through three positions before locking with the fist placed right next to a massive shoulder plate. The next instant the fist launched forward like a planet killing asteroid toward a large grey skinned behemoth with two massive tusks. The air bent around the fist as it silently flew toward the chest of the beast, the cacophonous impact sounded like a grenade had exploded as the being burst into a red mist and a millisecond later a sonic boom followed. The mist and scraps of flesh were blasted back by the sound wave that had been the result of the first traveling at Mach 3.
“The only good Commie is a dead Commie!”
Jacque didn’t know what a “Commie” was but his magical armor ghost loved to scream about them as it helped him fight the orc invaders. He had found the armor a few weeks ago hanging on the inside of some strange mangled metal bird creature that emitted flames and had immediately stepped into the armor from behind. Almost instantly he had felt a rush of strength which led him to believe this was magic armor and soon his thought was confirmed when a voice had screamed into his ears “You are not an Amercian maggot, are you a god damn Commie!?”. Sensing danger he immediately assured the armor ghost he was not a “Commie”.
He has spent the last two weeks trying to stay sane as it constantly bombarded him with questions about where it was and who he was. Luckily it didn’t seem too picky about it’s user as long as it could “bathe in the blood of the Communist Oppressors and cleanse their corruption with almighty fury born from Jesus’s love”. Jacque had no clue what any of that meant but when he told the armor about they Orcs and suggested perhaps they might be “Commies” the armor quickly stopped all questioning and taking control of his legs it rocketed him toward the front lines like a runaway train. He had been here for a week, arriving like the “Atom bomb” (whatever that was) and quickly turned the chaotic frontline into a scene of carnage and mayhem. Jacque had gone from being a mediocre Hunter to a god of a battlefield in that short amount of time and had saved hundreds of his people.
A loud clang took Jacque out of his thoughts and brought him back to the present. His ghost armor was using his body to tear through an orc regiment as Jacque looked on with wonder and horror from inside the helmet. It fought in a rain of blood and entrails as bodies literally erupted around him from impacts that could shatter a mountain. While Jacque enjoyed being a hero he couldn’t wait to return to his home; it was a wonderful place where everyone in the community pitched in and shared resources to make sure that all were taken care of. He just knew that his ghost armor would love it… | 2022-10-22T09:56:38 | 2022-10-22T09:38:20 | 22 | 16 |
[WP] We “knew” humans were weak as they avoided every war with diplomacy. We never imagined they’d be this ruthless & how seemingly overnight they went from peaceful beings to a state they call “TOTAL WAR”. War is in their blood & soul. They thrive on it, mostly when the odds are against them | “Examiner, have you reached any conclusions?”
The holo-video lit up in the center of the laboratory. The face of Preator Endex filled the void in the center of the room.
“Yes. Praetor. The specimen you provided was intact enough to draw a conclusion,” Examiner Zendex replied. “If I may ask, how was such a faultless specimen procured?”
“By accident, Examiner.” Zendex could hear the embarrassment in the Preator’s voice. The Klee were notorious for their ability to plan. To have a complete human specimen simply fall into their possession as an act of luck was an insult to the Praetor’s ability to calculate probable outcomes. Still, it was likely that the additional information to be gleaned from studying a full anatomy could very well prove the turning of the war.
“I see.” Zendex obfuscated his disapproval outwardly, while in actual fact he was enjoying the Praetor’s discomfort. No less than twelve successors to the current Praetor had all tried to turn the tide of the galactic conflict. Over fifty cycles, and none had succeeded. For all his braggadocio, Praetor Endex had proven equally incapable of mastering the necessary variables to overcome this foe. Not that it wasn’t a complex problem….
“Please, state your conclusion, then propose the underlying premises,” the Praetor encouraged.
“Of course,” Zendex paused, wondering if the magnitude of his discoveries would be fully communicated, much less appreciated by the greater Klee protectorate. “The additional information gleaned from this specimen leads to the conclusion that this war will be over in less than two cycles.”
The Praetor bared his mandibles in a sign of satisfaction. “Ah, we have it then. What is your margin of error?”
The Examiner balked. To ask the question of an Examiner of such high esteem was almost an insult. “Within the ninety ninth percentile, Praetor.”
“Then by all means, state your premises.” It was customary in Klee society to state the conclusion of an encounter first, then reveal the necessary background information informing the deduction. To save on the need for pointless interactions, a subordinate would typically accept the conclusions of an Elder. This was given to the Klee’s exceptional ability to calculate probabilities into several dimensions of thinking. To inquire into the basis for a deduction was to show interest, and thus respect, for the proponent of the conclusion. The Praetor was clearly showing great respect for the Examiner’s presentation. Such deference deserved a thorough exhibition.
“I direct your attention to the specimen, Praetor.” The lifeless body of the pale human lay limply on the examining table, its various entrails and organs neatly stacked in a small row next to it. “As you can see from the scorian readout, the Circulatory, Digestive, Endocrine, Exocrine, Muscular and Renal systems of these humans are typical of a class four evolutionary primateon species. Other than the digestive systems ability to vacate a surprising number of toxins, these systems are rather unremarkable...”
The presentation continued, analyzing each biological strength and weakness in turn.
The Praetor patiently listened. The Klee had conquered thousands of species in galactic combat. No race had been able to withstand their superior minds, being able to calculate and adapt to thousands of permutations and possible outcomes. And so it was supposed to be a simple conquest of this backward human world. Their superior numbers and technology obvious, the Klee had offered the humans a dignified surrender almost simultaneously with their invasion.
The Klee war counsel had noted that the humans preferred to rely on diplomacy, which loosely translated basically meant mutual surrender, with neither side a victor. Words were a decent enough tool to fend off aggression in some cases. But without the might to back up those words … the Klee knew better. Despite its 1,000 years of peace with its neighbors, the Klee knew that no diplomacy would be enough to prevent Earth’s capture.
At least, they thought they knew. Despite the analytical approach to the invasion, this unremarkable species had left cataclysmic destruction in its wake. Generally, an intergalactic war took one, maybe two cycles to conclude, especially when victory from one side or the other was all but assured. Once both sides concluded that victory was inevitable, a ceremonial surrender was typical. But the current conflict had lasted over fifty cycles, and the waste of resources had nearly drained the empire into insolvency. It wouldn’t be long until the outer systems calculated weakness…
These humans did not conform to any known parameters. In most conflicts, multiple circumstances could be calculated, reevaluated, predicted. But not humans. In one iteration, humans would behave conservatively, almost to a fault. Giving ground even when obvious advantages could clearly be seized. In other encounters, they displayed a recklessness and ferocity known only among the unevolved. Fifty cycles later and they were just as impossible to predict as the day the Klee invaded Earth.
The Earth invasion was a disaster by any tactical standard. It had been studied, reanalyzed, reinterpreted. But no solid conclusions could be reached. Upon landfall, the humans initially reacted as any other class four primateon. Family units hiding in fear. Communications disrupted. Military responses disorganized.
And then, as if signaled by a Praetorean elite, something changed. The humans responded with the ferociousness and recklessness of an unevolved reptile or arachnid. Forces were marshaled imperfectly, but effectively. Counter offensives with no seeming probability of victory nevertheless succeeded. And once some Klee technology was in the hands of the enemy, the situation went all downsystem.
Native humans with no military training whatsoever were taking up munitions and retaliating with no regard to their own existence. Elite human units advanced TOWARD certain death. By the time the provisional government envoy arrived to impose judicial order, the humans had routed all 36 expeditionary squads, including the capital ships. How in the nexus they even got up to the fleet centers remains a mystery, as human technology simply wasn’t advanced past placing geosynchronous communicators in their own orbit. To add insult, the humans used the captured fleet to commandeer the undefended bureaucratic envoy just after its arrival.
And then? Then they repurposed the envoy to proclaim victory, making the Klee administrative apparatus assume the planet was in conquered status. It wasn’t until a whole cycle had passed until the Klee elite had noticed there wasn’t any tribute. But by then it was too late. The humans had adapted to the technology quickly. Not just to seize and use it, but also perverting Klee technology to suit their own destructive ends.
From there, forty-nine cycles of interstellar destruction and chaos across entire systems. Unlike other space-faring species, the humans seem to have no respect for cosmic order. It is as if they must repurpose the universe itself to match their fleeting lifespan. They damage anything in their path to achieve even minor victories. Anger toward a conqueror was to be expected. But the patterns appeared to demonstrate a malice toward the Klee that could not have been predicted from an evolved species.
Using space folding technology, they used a Klee warp engine to fold out the orbit of a key military installation, shifting it into the path of a black hole, and damaging the habitability of three separate colonies. They strapped fusion reactors onto refueling pylons and sent them back into the prime nexus, haphazardly destroying or crippling thirteen production outposts. In one engagement, a system neighboring a production facility with no military value was completely destroyed, a seemingly pointless act. But worst of all, in every encounter their soldiers and pilots show no regard whatsoever for their own personal safety, at times letting loose fission and fusion weapons of their own design, which spread fallout throughout half the Klee protectorate. It has made the end of the conflict nearly impossible to manage. | “I still remember the look on Ambassador Ford’s (Betelgeusean Republic’s representative to the former Galactic Councils 300 BT – 5 TA) face when I informed him we had declared war on the pathetic Humans of the Terran Federation. His blue blood drained from his face, leaving a dirty yellow visage which had previously shone a healthy green. The only thing he said was ‘What have you done?’ which I thought wwas just due to Betelgeusean fondness for the cowardly pacifistic species. If only we had known the truth…” – Gragtun’iik’iill, Former Krillnean Ambassador to the Galactic Councils 89 BT – 7 BT
Warfare has changed very little since the first slightly complex multicellular organisms began banding together to fight one another over limited resources. The equation generally comes down to who can out produce the other in manpower, supplies, or weapons. For as terrifying and powerful a new weapon system may be, it can still be outclassed by sheer volume.
At the dawn of the Terran Alliance, a heavily modified version of this calculation was in use to determine the general effectiveness of galactic empires. The weapon system of the day, as for most navies throughout history, was the battleship. Advanced civilizations, such as The Betelgeusean Republic, were capable of building, crewing, and launching these behemoths in only 50 cycles.
In 10 BT the rising Krillnean Empire felt that their armada, while small on the galactic scale, would be well equipped to destroy the peace loving, ever negotiating, Terran Federation. Afterall Terra had only 20 battleships in service, and had not completed a new such vessel in over 150 cycles. Krillnea was able to produce a vessel in as few as 80 cycles, and had a standing navy of over 500 ships.
Additionally, due to the sensitive and specialized nature of the systems on board a starship, let alone a warship, a certain level of training and experience was required. This training and practical experience was extremely costly, and could take dozens of cycles for a Human to acquire, but for the long-lived children of the Krillnean Hives, born to carry out specific tasks, it was simple. The game of numbers, it seemed, was decided.
As war commenced, the humans fought bravely to defend their colonies, but the numbers were against them. The Terran Fleet was destroyed in combat around Proxima Centauri, and colonies fell one after another. The Krillnean Armada advanced methodically, but sustained a far higher rate of losses than initially expected, which while concerning, was overshadowed by the rapid advance to the Human’s home system of Sol.
The Battle of Sol (7 BT) was a turning point in the evolution of warfare. Standard practice had been to harvest asteroid, moons, rocky planetoids, and anything available for raw materials to process into Space Ship components. This took time, capital, and abundant resources. With the main Terran shipyards destroyed, and with access to her colonies cut off, the Terran Federation appeared to be teetering on extinction.
What the Krillnean armada encountered upon entering the Sol system was not a scrambling mass of scared civilians, but a star system that had been entirely strip mined, and a brand new, incredibly massive fleet of “Warships” waiting for them.
The Sol system had always been considered somewhat of an anomaly. It had not one but two asteroid belts surrounding it, one of which harbored several larger planetoids. While these raw materials would have been a boon to most industries, the density of the belts in Sol made harvesting these resources a very laborious and risky endeavor. Even then, those resources would need to be refined methodically, and carefully to ensure no errant debris might strike a vessel or colony, and standard practice was to dump the empty husks of these asteroids into the nearest star, where it may safely be consumed.
The Terran Federation had several larger asteroids in stable orbits near their home planet of Earth, most were completely devoid of usable material and were merely awaiting their turn to be sent sunward. For Humanity they became salvation.
Instead of building a warship from scratch, Terran engineers crawled over these husks, fitting them with reactors, weapons systems, thrusters, and crude life support systems. When manpower turned out to be lacking, regular civilians pitched in to help, many of them having never performed a spacewalk or heavy construction previously. In total, over 600 such “vessels” were created over the span of a single cycle. Numerous other smaller asteroids were converted into unguided missiles, whose mass proved so effective at defeating point defense and shield systems that they are still in use today.
The Krillnean armada of 573 ships and 6-8 million souls was entirely obliterated. While not particularly agile or comfortable, the extremely basic nature of the human warships allowed them to survive attacks from the latest weapons systems, usually with little to no adverse effects. In fact, during the Battle of Sol, the total Terran losses were 237,000 personnel across 7 ships destroyed, and 13 damaged.
The Battle of Sol set the stage for the fall of the Galactic Council. As the Terran Federation reestablished control of her colonies and continued the fight towards the Krillnean home worlds, they continued to refine, improve, and produce their new class of vessels. Long since superseded by newer classes of warship, the Nemesis class battleships are still the most decorated vessels in the history of the Terran Alliance.
The Nemesis, first of her class, is still in use today and has the honor of being not only the ship which fired the first shot at the Battle of Sol, but also the vessel which destroyed the last enemy ship during the War of Unification between the Terran Federation and the Galactic Councils. | 2022-08-05T13:46:41 | 2022-08-05T12:56:31 | 824 | 613 |
[WP] "Join me, together we can destroy the empress and rule the world!" "You're right." "Predictable, all you heroes......what?" "You're right, I'll join your side and destroy the empress. You made some good points, and I want in." | "And so I say, join me. Together, we can destroy the Empress and rule the world!"
"You're right."
"Predictable, all you heroes......what?"
"You're right, I'll join your side and destroy the empress. You made some good points, and I want in."
I lowered my hands, dispelling the rampant magic I’d been planning to use to blow up his home.
“Er. Wait. You’re in? I didn’t plan for this. Butler! Butler, disarm the trap panel.”
I looked down as a stoic and silent orc punched a button on the wall. As he walked back to his position behind one of the many stone pillars in the hallway, I saw his face grimace in…sadness?
I guess they’d really been looking forward to that one.
“I’ll just save that for the next hero to walk these halls, I guess.”
“Good call. So, negotiations are usually face-to-face, no?” I was getting tired of staring at the back of a throne.
It swiveled immediately.
“Ah. Having dungeon-vision took a while to get used to, and I might’ve forgotten a few things along the way.”
&#x200B;
I was a little baffled at the form before me. Given how the deep and dignified voice of the Keeper echoed through the cavern, I was expecting, well, some muscled demigod. Or a professorial type, maybe.
Not a gemstone glowing in intervals from amidst a pile of bones and rags.
“Er. Keeper, you’re looking a little…”
“Yes, my mortal form collapsed a while back. It’s why my plans for revolution have taken the back burner.”
Snappy, that tone.
“So, when you say ‘mortal form collapsed a while back’…” I wavered a little.
Wouldn’t do to laugh at the misfortune of this one – sentient loot, he was, but still the Keeper of the vast underground labyrinth I’d been navigating for days.
“I can’t move unless Butler moves me. And he’s too…mortal to bring me into battle against the Empress. He’d get cooked in an instant.”
I looked back for a second. No trace of offence on the orc’s face.
*Professional.*
&#x200B;
“So…”
“So I’ve been petitioning every adventurer that’s gotten here. Most never got here. The first bunch rushed over to try to loot me before I could even open negotiations, so I disintegrated them. Then I turned my throne around. There were a bunch that fled immediately, what with their danger-sense – so I got the automatic door...”
Right. That had slammed shut behind me rather abruptly once I’d gotten into the chamber.
“…and of course, you can’t telepathically chat through a mind-ward charm. I’ve refined the special effects a *lot* since the early days – but I still can’t do *actual* sound. Had to dispose of that party with traps…”
Good thing I hadn’t been able to afford one.
“…And of course, there was that –“
“Okay, okay. It’s clear you haven’t spoken to anyone except your Butler there for ages.”
“Well, anyone, really. He’s a golem.”
I looked back at the now obviously-stone orc at the back of the hall. I raised an eyebrow.
“It gets lonely, okay? Now, let’s talk Empress.”
“I carry you into battle – you do the heavy lifting – I rule as the non-deceased member of this partnership and you get to gloat about finally curbstomping your ancient nemesis?”
“Er.”
“I mean, you don’t have many needs as a sentient gemstone. Plus, I’m pretty sure anyone you knew in life is long gone except the Eternal Empress.”
“True – and I do hate her for tossing me in here. But…”
“Alright – I promise to talk to you occasionally.”
“Regularly.”
“Sometimes.”
“Often.”
I sighed. “Fine.”
And that’s how I found myself embroiled in a *very* long war. | "Join me. Together we can rule the world!" Said Frostman.
"Fine." Said SuperDude.
"But as always, you- what?"
"Fine. Being a hero sucks. I punched some street thug last week and now he's suing me, complaining that he needs his kidneys to live. What a wuss. Villains have it easy. You can run around shooting things, and starting fires, and stealing whatever you want without filing taxes. I'm sick of this, let's join team evil!" Said SuperDude.
"Well, hang on, it's not quite that easy. You're making it sound like being a villain is all sunshine and lollipops and rainbows. It's not quite that easy. We have standards, you know. Monologue lessons, eye shadow make-up, territory wars. I can't just steal anything I want, there's a schedule." Said FrostMan.
"A schedule? You're kidding?" Said SuperDude. "What's the point of that, I thought you were for chaos. What are you doing following rules?"
"There's a league of evil supervillains, and they set the rules, that's just how it goes." FrostMan shrugged. "I would have been a hero, but the entrance exam was on my birthday. They didn't even think about changing it! So unfair."
"Yeah, the Hero Association is like that," said SuperDude. "Hey, you don't think that we could..."
"Trade places?" Said FrostMan.
"Yeah," said PowerDude. He took of his mask and handed it to FrostMan.
"Thanks," said FrostMan. Then he put the mask in the pocket and walked out.
"Hey! You're supposed to give me your mask!" Said PowerDude.
"Lesson number one of being a villain, kid." Said FrostMan. "Villains always lie. Thanks for the mask." | 2020-05-05T00:18:28 | 2020-05-05T00:03:08 | 131 | 75 |
[WP] "Every 5000 years, the Dark Lord comes to destroy the world, and only you, the Chosen One can stop him." -said the priest. "So, do I need to get a magic sword from the Lady of the Lake?" - I asked "No, just press this button please, everything else has already been taken care of" | I moved to press the button, then paused.
"So how's it work?"
The priest paused, perplexed before speaking, "How does what work?"
"The... the whole button thing?"
"Why do you wish to know? Your duty as the Chosen One is to fell the Dark Lord. Our prophecies have forseen his rising and have taken steps to deal with it. Now all that's left is for you to do your part."
"So you could push it then? You don't even need me?" I asked
"No."
"Why not?"
"It's a procedural thing. I'm not the chosen one, so I can't press the button," the priest said with a harumph.
"Can't? Or won't?" I asked pointedly.
He sighed, "Ok, yes, I'm physically capable of pushing the button, but that's not how thi- why are you being so difficult about this?"
"Why are you being so mysterious about it?"
"I'm a prophet. Mysterious is what we do," he answered flatly.
"And \*I\* am skeptical. Just- fine, whatever," I wave my hands in the air as if to clear it, "Look. I push the button, yeah? What happens?"
"The Dark Lord is defeated, and we have 5000 years of peace."
I sigh and run my hand over my face.
"No, I mean, the world is currently AT peace. So what is this button supposed to do, like, mechanically. Because right now I can see it's not going to.... I dunno, un-summon a hell horde."
"Oh. I see what you mean, now. Sorry, all the riddles and mystery can distort the perception of questions you see. Anyways, it's simple, really. If you push this button, then a device will activate and kill the Dark Lord."
"What device?" my brow furrowed.
"A small explosive device, implanted in the skull," the priest answered, with a hint of pride in his voice.
"So...wai- so you had the Dark Lord in your hands."
"Yes."
"And you could do anything you wanted to him to prevent his evil."
"Yes."
"And your FIRST thought was to just plant a bomb in his head? Instead of just, like, cutting an artery or giving him a lobotomy or something?"
"The Chosen One is always the one to defeat him. We aren't you, and you weren't there at the time. So this was the best route. We got it all prepared for you, which is why I continue to be so concerned about how difficult you're being about this," agitation seeping through the priest's voice.
"Can I see this 'Dark Lord' before I make a judgement call of making some guy I've never met's head explode?"
"Unlikely."
"Why?"
"I would imagine his mother wouldn't want strangers to meet him."
"What." I asked, completely dumbfounded.
"The Dark Lord is only a year and a half old at this time, and his mother is very protective," the priest answered, matter-of-factly.
"You installed a bomb into a baby's head!?" I shouted.
"Of course. He is the Dark Lord of the prophecy. We forsaw his coming, and took measures during a minor surgery to implant the device to make it all ready for you to defeat him. Now hurry up, please."
"You installed a bomb."
"Yes."
"Into a BABY's head."
"The Dark Lord's head, thank you."
"WHO IS A BABY RIGHT NOW" I yell, flabbergasted.
"Yes. The Dark Lord is currently a baby. Which....we....planted.....hm," The prophet's voice faded off as his brow furrowed.
"Ah, yes, ok. When I say it all out loud like that, I can see why there'd be a problem," he muttered after a moment.
"You think?" I asked, laying on the sarcasm as thick as possible.
"So....I guess....we don't push the button then," he said dejected.
"Look, I'll push it when the guy's actually evil. Baby-head-exploding? A pretty Dark Lord move to me."
The priest stared at me for a long moment, then shrugged his shoulders.
"Yeah, that's fair enough. Well, here -" he said as he deposited the small box in my hands, closing the protective lid over the button, "Whenever you're ready to deal with him, go ahead and push it. And keep your eyes on the news, I guess."
And with that, the robed figure made his exit, muttering about 'so much paperwork' while I stood in my room staring at the little black box. | "Just like that?" I asked.
"Just like that." the priest responded.
No way it could be that easy. The priest looked at me with a small smile on his face. Is there a joke I'm not in on? His robes ruffled as he produced a long stem pipe, and began to fill it.
"How long has this been happening?" I asked, watching him tap the tobacco down.
"For many centuries. Almost as long as The Divide has existed." he said, flicking the match with his thumb. The flame was pulled into the pipe and the sweet smell of it filled the room.
"But that's no worry to you, my son," he said when the pipe was lit, "just press the button and the Dark Lord will be banished once again."
"If it's been going on so long why haven't we stopped it for good?" I asked, still not understanding what was happening.
With one more long exhale, the blue smoke jetting from his lips, the priest set down his pipe and leaned forward in his char.
"That. Is not your concern. Now," he said, pointing to the button, "push it."
So I did. What else could I do? Nothing seemed to happen at first. Just a little *click* when I pressed it. The priest smiled broad now, showing his discolored teeth all the way to the back. He began to gather his robes and stand.
"Now what?" I asked.
"Now?" he asked incredulously, "now you go die."
"I what!?" I screamed, and before I knew it the priest clamped down on my wrists with a strength that shocked me. He held my arms to the chair and looked me right in the eyes.
"This marks the thirteenth sacrifice for the Dark Lord. The prophesy is fulfilled. May his evil majesty wash over this realm, so we become One."
"What the hell is going on?" I yelled, watching as brutish men in blackened iron armor enter the room. They both had a scar running down their face, and short stabbing swords hung from their belts. The priest said something to them in a language I didn't recognize. It was guttural and sounded very difficult to say.
The brutes nodded once and pulled their swords. I didn't know what was waiting for me on the other side. But the twelve boys that met me, filled me with unending sadness as we watched our world fall to the dark. | 2020-11-09T11:55:57 | 2020-11-09T11:45:32 | 4,632 | 170 |
[WP] You have weird super power. If you successfully talk someone into doing something, they will succeed, regardless of if the action in question is actually possible. On the other hand, your abilities to actually persuade people are unaltered. | The man on the ledge reeked of old booze and stale vomit, enough for me to smell him from ten paces away. Not your typical drunk however, judging by the suit; a week or so ago, it had been a respectable business number, probably complete with a crisp shirt and a smart tie. I could see that the shirt lost a number of buttons since, and acquired questionable stains, and the tie went missing altogether.
"Don't. No closer. I'll jump. I'm not kidding." He winced and swayed as he spoke.
I shrugged and leaned against the roof access door.
"Suit yourself, partner. Jump. Or don't. You are not dying today."
"Wrong!" he swayed again. "I'll do it! We are fifty stories up, there's nothing anyone can do!.." Below, the Strip churned, shone, sparkled and blinked. Just another day in paradise.
"You don't understand. I... I thought I could stop. I *almost* stopped. I just... I needed... more..." For a moment I thought he'd start to whimper and back away from the ledge, and we could solve things quietly. No such luck however. He kept blabbing, the standard suicidal drivel of a gambling addict down on his luck.
"Hey!" I snapped my fingers and he stared at me wide-eyed. "Will you ever get on with it? So you fucked up. You ALWAYS fuck up. And you'll fuck this up too. Want to know what'll happen now? You'll jump. You'll fall fifty fucking stories, land on an empty car, ruin it, and walk away with one hell of a bruised ass and not a single broken bone. Get it? You're about to fuck up your own suicide. I'm not here to talk you out of it. I'm here to talk you *into* it, watch and fucking laugh."
He blinked slowly, once, twice.
"Fuck. You. You're crazy. What kind of a negotiator are you anyway?"
"I'm not. You see a badge anywhere? For all you know, I'm the tooth fairy. You know what's funny? You can't even stop yourself thinking about what I said just now, can you? You're gonna attempt suicide by jumping fifty stories, and you're gonna FUCK IT UP. All this to ruin some poor slob's car. C'mon then, loser. I got places to be."
"Fuck. You."
Credit where credit's due - he did not scream on the way down, or at least not so much that I could hear him. From below, came a distant thud and an indignant blare of a car alarm. I walked the ten paces to the ledge and peered over just in time to see him kneeling in the street next to a ruined cab, uniforms and paramedics rushing towards him.
The phone in my pocket trilled.
"Mahoney? We've got him. Come on down." | It's strange to see a great catastrophe
And stand serene and calm to watch it grow.
My power's one that very few can see
And fewer still will ever even know.
When chaos reigns supreme, I find someone
Convince them each that they can save the day.
I work them up and off they surely run
While on the sidelines I am forced to stay.
The crisis solved, the news commends their deeds
But mention not their source of courage true.
So yet again I simply sow the seeds
And wish that I could be a hero too.
My powers cannot change the way I feel
Because I know for sure they are not real. | 2017-06-21T12:23:26 | 2017-06-21T10:35:45 | 1,906 | 39 |
[WP] Dragons and cats have much in common. They are both carnivores, both love to curl up in the sun for a quick nap, and both twitch their tails in annoyance. Unlike cats, dragons don't meow to get your attention, they just pick you up and carry you away - regardless of what your doing at the time. | A teardrop fell onto the parchment, staining it, smudging the ink a little bit and skewing the lines of my sketch. A little bit of water for the waterfall, to make it seem real, like it always had in my dreams. In my head, the grey flowers were actually pink, a lovely pastel pink that caught light and smoothed it out. I often wondered if sleep was the safest place for me to be. If I couldn't sleep, sketching it felt like the next best thing.
It had been another wonderful night at home. I could still hear the aftermath downstairs; my mother and her newest lover quibbling, possibly over me, or anything else at this point. Broken porcelain clacking downstairs, either what I'd thrown, or a freshly shattered piece courtesy of Farax. He had a temper nastier than mine, with a tongue like a sledgehammer, blunt and crushing.
My mother, sobbing for at least three or four reasons, all of which conflicted. For me, because of me, with me and without me. I couldn't even begin to imagine how broken she must be inside at this point, after years of cycling through terrible men with a fondness for slapping. I could never understand why she defended them, though. Every time. Dreska above forbid I stand up to him and try to protect her.
So I had retreated into a dark room, moonlight sneaking through trees and into my open window, softly sobbing to myself and the wind. A chill settled in, but I didn't care much.
My pouting was interrupted by the beating of wings, heavy and strong yet still careful, as she perched on a near tree and poked her head in. I walked over to her, wrapping my arms around the sweet dragon's neck. She always knew when I needed her most, and found a way to show up without alerting anyone. My father had a distaste for Scions, and all things wonderful. 'A thing of the Devil', he called her. She came and went as she pleased, anyway.
She growled softly, a sweet, deep purr, and pulled back a little. A thick, scaled tail aflame at its end whipped like a torch in the night.
"What is it, Draxara?" I sniffled.
She bore through my soul with a piercing stare, then bit down on my shirt and tugged. I stumbled forward a bit, leaning against the window. It almost looked like she was nodding to me.
Something compelled me to step outside, onto the dim shingled roof, shaky and wobbling. Before I could fall, two large sets of talons carefully wrapped around me, lifting me off the roof and into the night sky, where moon and starlight unbroken by trees.
At first, I pondered whether I'd become food that night. It was a brief thought, but these things are not unheard of, especially with stray Scions. That thought quickly passed as we approached a glowing speck in the deep forest's center. Deeper than I'd ever been.
My feet finally touched ground, head spinning from the jarring journey. It was a long ride, but the dizziness didn't settle as I looked up to a scene that came on more like a vision than sight.
I gasped, bathing in the silvery-cyan light of a glowing waterfall. Pink peonies dotted the forest around us, like scattered candy, and thick vines ran up the mountain of stone. It was exactly like what I had sketched, the place of my dreams, every bit as magical and lovely.
"Draxy, how?" I asked, ravaged by wonder, turning to her. She looked more alive, vibrant, her fiery eyes more like inky pools of magic.
She bowed her head, placing it near the rippling lake of light.
And in those eyes, I saw something-- a knowing, sagely something; they suddenly seemed infinitely deep and strange. Like she was seeing me with eyes that watched the world grow up, and it was her plaything.
Like I was seeing the real her for the first time. I took a deep breath, kissing her head, walking to the pool's edge. It was a horizon on land, the nexus between a godly sunrise and dark earth.
I stepped in.
It was not a subtle thing; like being blanched in the icy waters of Durintrough, icy needles prickling all over. And yet, it was not wet. I floated within it, swallowed by light, but no dampness soaked into my clothes and skin. Instead, it felt sofy, velvety, like being drowned in frigid silk. The blinding whiteness stung my eyes even through eyelids pressed together with full force, and my body went numb, leaving me floating in a blindingly bright abyss.
Something stirred in me. A vision flashed in my mind, one of my newest father and his love for towering over women crumpled on the ground. That power, that rush, a false sense of superiority as he picks on those who can't, or won't, fight back. I felt anger, burning whiter than the light surrounding me, rise inside and boil over. It was as if it poured out of me, melding with the surrounding light, connecting me to it.
I felt power. Freedom. Clarity. None of it made sense, but I could feel something primal bubbling in my soul. Something that would burn away tears.
Rising from the lake of holy glow, light clung to me. Swirling. A vortex of light consuming my body, an aurora turned woman. Slowly, it dissipated, and I met Draxara's deep, mischievous eyes once more.
*"You are the first to survive, young one,"* a deep voice purred in my head. I knew where it came from. *"I'm glad it was you. There will be time for discussions later-- where shall we go first?"*
I clenched a fist, turning east. "Home. I have to pay someone a visit."
*/r/resonatingfury* | Sara yawned. She yawned wide enough that her ears hurt for a few seconds after she was finished.
The sun was on it’s way to greet the horizon. The clouds were already starting to reflect the pink and oranges of the upcoming sunset, and the windows of the shops reflected the light directly into her eyes as she left the bakery. She held a large loaf of sourdough bread under her arm. It would be for her dinner, and if it came out well enough she would take what was left to her older neighbor a few yards down the path.
That was her plan. It had been here plan all day long, until she forgot that she had never picked up the stupid loaf of bread from the store. She would have been at home, stewing and relaxing, instead of walking into the blinding sun on tired legs and feet. The rest of the village was inside already.
Sara had been the last customer of the day for the bakery. She had only just slid inside before they switched the sign from open to closed.
Nevertheless, she pushed her legs forward. She had her loaf of bread, and her stomach was starting to rumble at her.
Moving across a cobblestone intersection, Sara had moved away from the market district and into the housing corner of her village. Some of the sellers lived on top of their stores, and others had small homes nestled in between the shops. A lot of the villagers lived in this section. Some, like herself, lived further out where the cobblestone became dirt and there was more room to farm.
She was glad for the chance to turn away from the setting sun, although she knew she still at least 10 minutes before she was back inside her kitchen. With her attention absorbed in her thoughts about dinner, remaining chores, and the activities of the next few days, Sara didn’t notice the large shadow that settled over her body.
It blocked out the sun entirely, like a wide tree in the summertime. A breeze moved across her body, and as gooseflesh grew upon her skin she finally looked up. The horizon held huts, grass, and a handful of other locals making their way around town. A low growling sound cause her to furrow her brows before looking up at the sky above her.
A groan escaped her throat and a moment later she felt two large sets of claws wrap around her upper body. Without thinking about it, she hugged the loaf of bread closer to her body and tucked her legs inward, making herself smaller. She closed her eyes, and rolled her head downward. There was nothing she could do until the dragon made it back to its home and set her down.
It only took a moment, but it felt like longer. The motion brought waves of motion sickness to Sara's stomach, and by the time she was set back down on the ground, her breathing had sped up to near hyper-ventilating status. Feet on the ground, her legs stretched themselves back out into a standing position. The bread was clutched her chest and eyes still closed, however.
She stayed this way, trying to get her heart rate back to a normal rhythm. She kept her eyes closed until she felt a warm and scratchy muzzle graze the side of her face. A chuckle forced its way out of her, and she opened her eyes to look at the giant creature.
“Gwen!” Sara scolded, gently. “I was on my way home to make dinner.”
Sara furrowed her brows and pouted, trying to make herself look angry at the gentle beast. If she hadn’t been so hungry she would have happily come over and given her attention. In return, her pet snorted a wisp of smoke in her direction.
Sara laughed and spoke with no play anger, “I guess I still have bread.”
/r/Beezus_Writes | 2019-04-03T05:46:02 | 2019-04-03T05:43:02 | 134 | 49 |
[WP] Everyone only gets to lie three times in their life, so they only do so when it's an absolute must. This is the story of how someone lied three times in one day. | James was waiting just outside the door - the door to his future.
It all started, years ago, when he began working for an incumbent Senator from New York - trying to keep his position despite the massive swelling of support for the Republican opposition. He did simple things - phone calls, passing out fliers, until one day, everything changed. Jessie Valdero - the Senator he was working for - was arrested on charges of negligent manslaughter after running over three children while driving drunk. Small crimes could be pushed to the side, but the rage the community felt about this forced the D.A.'s hand, and Valdero was tried and sentenced within a week. The group was without a leader - who would stand up as their representative.
So he did.
He took the position - it took him half a month to get all the paperwork done, but he did it. Now running for Senator, he had to take the lead and organize his supporters. He did okay - the Republican candidate even recognized the hard effort he put forward, in his victory speech.
But losing this once didn't diminish his dreams. No. He now knew what he was meant to do. So he tried, again, four years later. He won.
His induction into the Senate was normal, until night came. He was dragged, screaming, from his office. He was eventually knocked out, and awoke bound to a chair. Men emerged from the shadows, all dressed as donkeys. They said some chanting, then removed their masks and congratulated him on now being a Senator. He'd expected something like this from frat boys, not politicians, then it was explained.
"In 1985," one man stated, stepping forward. "We realized that without the ability to lie often, we would not be able to beat out the Republican opposition - they were too honest, after Abe set a high bar they all had to pass." James nodded. "So we summoned the Devil and made a pact - so long we repeat this ceremony for each new Democratic politician, he will provide us with unlimited lies."
And so began his career as a politician.
And now, years later, here he was. He refused to test the theory of his fellow Democrats, he wanted to save his lies if he could.
He did.
And so now, came the time to use them.
His running mate came up behind him. "So, gonna still hold up your end of the bargain and tear down that wall the Republicans build between us and Mexico?"
He smiled. "Of course!"
One down.
The second came when he assured his wife that, yes, he still loved her and didn't use her for the political connections.
The third came when he said he was willing to work towards ending the wars in the Middle East - they'd been going on for fifty years now, why stop now?
And the fourth...
"Do you solemnly swear to protect, defend, and uphold the Constitution of the United States of America?"
"I do."
Four. | -Are you cheating on me?
-No, of course not.
-Are you cheating on me?
*Sam could see where this was going but what can you do.*
-No, don't you trust me?
-Are you cheating on me?
-No!
-Are you cheating on me?
-Damn it!... ok, yes. I guess I'll be leaving then?
----------------
[**Note(hover to read):**](/s "At first I was going to call the main character 'Pete' but I decided to change it to the more gender neutral name, 'Sam' so that the reader(s) can more freely paint their own scenario") | 2014-11-15T10:17:36 | 2014-11-15T07:12:54 | 47 | 30 |
[WP] A princess finds herself being offered to the leading knight of the realm to bring children to the throne. The only hang-up is the princess knows who the leading knight is and has to hide why her handmaiden vanishes during tournaments for the knights. | Princess Marlisa stared down at the helmed knight on the lists in stunned silence. Sir Beronar had just been proclaimed the champion of the tournament. She had been pleased by that.
And then her father had announced that the grand prize of the tournament was to be *her.* She'd known this day was coming, that it would have to come. She was the sole heir to the throne, and if she did not wed, the succession was not secure. But she thought she'd had *time.*
But even that was a secondary concern, at the moment: father had given her hand to *Beronar!* The king was expecting the peerless night to sire him a grandchild, and future king!
Of course, he didn't know the secret, of why Marlisa's trusted handmaiden, Nyreen, her closest companion since girlhood, was never to be seen on days when Sir Beronar tilted in the lists. As far as Marlisa knew, only she and the knight's trusted squire knew that.
There wasn't much time. Marlisa knew that soon, a press of people would descend on both her and Beronar, looking to divert the affianced to one or another of a million duties attendant to their royally-decreed engagement. She had to get to the preparation tent bearing Beronar's livery before then -- she *had* to talk to Nyreen, to make *some* sort of plan!
As she quietly slipped away from the royal box overlooking the lists, she seized a travelling cloak that had been left draped on one of the tiered benches, and pulled it around herself quickly, to hide her resplendent gown.
Just when she thought she'd made a clean getaway, he ran almost directly into her aunt, Duchess Isme. She cursed the odious woman, inwardly. Isme had never liked Marlisa, not least because her existence meant that she, her father's younger sister, would never inherit the throne.
"Why, where are you off to in such a hurry, sweetling?" Her aunt asked, with a smirk.
"I...have to use the privy." she blurted.
Isme laughed humorlessly. "Oh, I see. Jittery, are we? My apologies for diverting you, dear."
Marlisa gave a perfunctory nod and dashed past her. It made no sense, a princess just strolling off to visit the privy, unattended by any guards or servants, but she didn't have time for a better excuse. She *had* to reach Beronar's tent!
When she burst in, she saw the knight seated on a stool, head in hands, groaning softly, as the young squire tended to the dapple mare Beronar had ridden in the contest.
"What are we going to do?" she cried.
"Well, right now, I'm leaning towards mounting up and fleeing the kingdom so I don't get *executed."*
"You can't do that!" Marlisa cried. "We can...we can fix this!"
"Can you, sweetling?" came an oily voice from behind Marlisa. She whirled around to find Isme there smiling, smugly.
She strode forward, as Marlisa backed up towards Nyreen, and dismissed the squire with an imperious gesture, sending the lad scrambling away out of the tent.
Isme smirked, walking around the pair and looking them over appraisingly "I've suspected for *months,* you know. But only now does it all fall into place. I know your secret, *Beronar...*"
Standing behind them, between them and the tall warhorse, she placed one bony hand on Marlisa's shoulder, the other on the armored pauldron of Sir Beronar. Leaning forward, her head between theirs, gleeful in her moment of triumph, she spoke softly, turning to one ear then the other as she gloated. "It's so obvious, in hindsight. Marlisa and her very tall, gorgeous handmaiden Nyreen, always joined at the hip. But wherever is her *bosom companion* when there's a tournament with Sir Beronar in the lists? A knight who, for some obscure reason, never seems to doff his helmet in public. And, while Marlisa had to wait upon my brother's pleasure to receive suitors, why, I wonder, is the lovely *Nyreen* never seen in the company of a handsome page or stable lad? I've been told she's caught the eye of many."
"What are you implying?"
"I think you know *Beronar."* Isme sneered as she spoke the knight's name. "Imagine the scandal, the crown princess, cavorting with a common--"
Isme was interrupted by a loud whinny, as suddenly the dapple mare reared up on her hind legs, and lashed out with her front hooves, striking the old woman in the head and sending her flying.
Marlisa gasped in horror, as Beronar seized the reigns and calmed the angry mare. She ran to Isme's side, panicking. The woman lay in the straw, a huge purpling bump rising on her head, along with a trickle of blood from a cut on her scalp.
Beronar cast his helm aside, and placed his ear to Isme's lips. Even now, Marlisa was struck by the ruggedly handsome cast the long, deep scar across his face lent him -- she'd always thought it was silly that he believed he need to hide his face in public, to avoid upsetting those with tender sensibilities.
"Is she alright?" Marlisa asked.
"I--I don't know. At least she's breathing. I'll go find a physicker." Beronar stammered, scooping up his helmet and donning it, before slipping quickly back out of the tent.
Marlisa whirled angrily on the horse. "*Nyreen!* Why?!"
The horse's shape rippled and collapsed in on itself, bridle and saddle sliding off of its hulk. It was an uncanny sight, to be sure, but Marlisa had long since grown used to seeing it. In moments, a tall, naked dark-haired woman stood before her, hands on her hips.
"Why? Because she knows what I am! If the court found out I'm a *kelpie,* and that the reason Beronar won't marry you is that he's secretly married to *me,* they'd--"
"She didn't know Beronar's 'horse' was *you!*" Marlisa cried, exasperated. "She thought *we* were lovers and that *Beronar* was you!"
Nyreen winced, looking down at Isme's unconscious form. "Oh. That...that must have been the part she was whispering in your ears, huh?"
Marlisa groaned, putting her face in her hands. | The Princess Lyosa stood at her father’s right hand as they ushered in the band of knights, still worn from the road away from battle, covered in sweat, mud, and speckles of blood. At the head of the column stood her husband to be.
“We thank you brave knights for coming to the aid of your king in this time of turmoil,” Blah blah blah, her father was now an old man and always went on at court. No one but she was allowed to mind. “And in mine absence of a male heir to inherit my crown…” And he always loooooved to remind everyone that she had failed in her life’s most important task, being born a boy. “I present the gallant Sir Garamund with the hand of my daughter Princess Lyosa.” And there it was.
Sir Gary wasn’t tough to look at, he was charming, a bit cocky but they all were, he now wore a beard that could use a bit of trimming but fit his face well, and yet she could do nothing but roll her eyes at the sight of him. The brave, valiant, pretty knight only smiled in response.
“It would be my honor and pleasure, your grace.” He responded, kneeling.
“Your honor, certainly” she said, speaking out of turn, “Your pleasure, we’ll have to wait and see.”
Uncomfortable snickers echoed throughout the hall as her kingly father shot daggers at her with his glare. “For your service,” the king said loudly, ignoring her. “In quelling the Thornback Rebellion I have deemed fit to join our houses and bring this hero into the Royal bloodline.”
According to the stories her father was so eager to spread, Sir Garamund the Gallant single-handedly slew the Green King and put the realm to rights. In reality, Gary’s father had finally decided to get off his arse and contribute swords and grain to the war effort after a dozen frantic messages from the king begging their support. What Sir Gary actually accomplished in the battle she had no idea, nor did she particularly care.
Andrea giggled to herself against the back wall of the throne room, staring at the Princess excitedly. Lyosa supposed she could be happy for her handmaid, the two were closer than sisters after all, but she couldn’t help her look of contempt.
“I know it takes more than some old men’s alliance and pretty words to win a maid’s heart,” he said to her when they were finally alone. “But why does your majesty treat me so coldly?”
“Foolish of you to assume I’m still a maid,” she said, “You must think I’m the fool if you think I don’t notice Andrea sneaking off every time you knock some muttonhead off a horse at a tourney.”
His eyes jolted open a bit at the slap of a remark, but he kept his composure well. “Would you believe me if I said I was only trying to get closer to you?”
“And I’m sure your father would have loved such a notion, wanting into the royal family as much as he has. But if that was your plan back then you did a piss poor job.”
“Your Grace wounds me.” He said graciously, putting a hand over his heart.
“Good, I’m not finished.” She took a step closer to him, getting in the brave boy’s face. “I think you just fancied her rounder tits and easier smile.” She grabbed him by the chainmail that ringed his neck. “You think she doesn’t tell me…” Now he looked truly afraid. “Every word that comes out your pretty mouth when you two play ‘Come’ into my Castle?”
He glanced away, embarrassed. She pulled him closer. “When you kissed those nimble lips and heard those ridiculous giggling noises she makes between the sheets?” She laughed. “Did you think she was a maid too?”
“I… I…” was all the man could manage.
“I…” Lyosa said, savoring, “Beat you to it.” The hero’s face was beet red. The boy was so embarrassed he didn’t even feel his dagger leave its sheath.
She put the point to his bearded neck. “The three of us will be spending a lot of time together soon, too much probably,” she said, lifting the dagger along his chin. “But I will *not* have anyone, especially my father, doubting your devotion to me.” She drew a prick of blood, hardly his first wound of this war, but it sufficed to put the prick in his place. “Understand that and we’re sure to have a long and lovely marriage.” | 2022-04-24T21:10:03 | 2022-04-24T20:08:29 | 37 | 11 |
[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! | I killed them. I know I did. I admitted it.
During the trial I tried to convince myself that it was an accident. That I was still a good person who just made a mistake.
I lied to myself over and over again, but I failed. I chose to pick up the keys. I chose to get behind the wheel. I chose to drive while I was drunk out of my mind, and now a family has to live without their children, children who will never go to prom, or get married, or have kids of their own.
Because of me.
On the last day of the trial, my conscience got the better of me. I elected to testify, and poured all of my guilt on the stand. My lawyer had fought so hard to get me a light sentence, to find a silver lining to my actions and sell it, but her work was now out the window.
After my confession, the jury went into deliberation. They found me guilty on all charges, with the note that I should be given some leniency due to my guilt. I was sentenced under the rehabilitation laws.
My choices were: life in minimum security prison, no parole, but not allowed to see my family. Twenty-five years in normal security, parole available after fifteen years but given biannual visitation. Ten years in Supermax, parole after seven years but monthly visitation, or a day in ultra.
I was tempted to take life in prison. No one who does what I did deserves a life, but my lawyer spoke to me and said, "Being in prison won't pay for what you've done. Living a half life will not bring them back. If you really and truly want to pay for your crimes, you will take the day in ultra and then get back to living, and live enough for yourself and both of them. That's your punishment. Even in ultra, nothing they do to you will compare to what you do to yourself every day from here on."
Somehow at the time it made sense, and so I elected for ultra.
A week later I was standing at the door to my cell in Ultra. I had signed the forms, and I knew that many of the people who go in go insane and die, so worst case I walk through this door and never walk out again.
I was given one last chance to change my mind, declined, and stepped in.
The guard said, "Good luck", as he closed the door silently behind me and I was left in darkness.
What felt like hours passed in dark and silence, when a gentle amber light washed over my cell like a sunrise. The room had no place to sit, and I was standing when the light bloomed, and it increased in intensity slowly at first, and then suddenly flashed to brilliant blinding light so bright I could still see it clearly through the space in between the bones in my arms with my arm shielding my closed eyes.
And then it got brighter.
And brighter.
And somehow still brighter, until light lost all meaning to me.
What felt like hours passed with my entire body so suffused with light that I could not attenuate it. I was transfixed. My limbs wouldn't move, my mind screamed but my mouth couldn't make a sound. Every muscle in my body shook with a tremor of tension so strong it was a wonder they did not tear completely away from the bone.
And hours more passed.
And hours more...
And in the light, a pattern emerged. Hazy, pixelated shadows flittered in the brilliance like faint static in an old television. More and more they came, over time acquiring color and shape, my mind forming pareidolia until they began to coalesce into...
into...
into memories?
But not my memories.
A jolt struck me. Somebody else's life began to flash before my eyes, their every thought, experience and emotion searing itself permanently into my brain. I learned to walk again. I fell off my bike, I saw my first playboy, I kissed a girl, I struck out in my first game. Faster and faster and faster and faster IgotstungbyabeeIgotpunchedbymyfriendIfailedatestIpassedaclassIlearnedtodriveIhavetotakemysisterout....
And then I got hit by a car.
And I spent three days in the ICU while my parents cried and prayed.
And then I died.
And then nothing.
.
.
.
.
.
And then it hit again. IlearnedtowalkIlearnedtotalkIlearnedmathIkissedaboyItookdancelessonsIwonaraceIlostafriendIpassedaclassIpickedonmybrotherIputonmakeupIlovedmymommyImgoingtomyfriendsIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII
And then I saw my brother get hit by a car as he tried to shove me out of the way. And failed.
And then I saw the tire that crushed my skull, felt the hot muffler of the car burn my chest until it sizzled and turned black.
I breathed my last breath full of car exhaust and terror.
And then I died.
And then everything faded to black and I fell into nothing.
.
.
.
.
.
Hours passed as my brain struggled to absorb the lives and memories forced into them. I wept where they wept. I laughed where they laughed. I hurt where they hurt, or rather, where we hurt.
I was no longer me. We were me.
The door opened, and we were carried out of the room, and back into the world of life. | 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.
&nbsp;
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.
&nbsp;
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.
&nbsp;
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 | 2015-10-27T08:39:34 | 2015-10-27T07:22:42 | 293 | 46 |
[WP] 'Please Adopt Me', said the box on the side of the road, with the single black puppy in it. So you did. A year later, you realize the breed is a bit complicated, considering it has three heads, a snake tail, and breathes fire. | He scratched softly at the base of the basement door.
I sat at the kitchen table with hollow eyes. The breakfast sandwich steamed alongside the freshly roasted coffee, but I had no stomach for either. I wrung my hands, trying to ignore the smarting scratches down my forearms.
“It’s going to be alright,” I whispered, more to myself than to the monster trapped downstairs. A lump formed in my throat. “I’ll make it right.”
It wasn’t my intention to lock him down there, but I didn’t have much of a choice in the matter. Not anymore. The twists and turns of life thrust me into an impossible situation; this was the only solution. How was I supposed to know that the small welp I adopted would turn out to be so dangerous?
If I’m being honest with myself, this was my father’s fault. It was his rum-soaked rage that made me slam the door, walk to my car in disgust and start the fateful drive. I threw on “Highway to Hell” and pushed the speedometer until it started wobbling on the top end. I needed a catharsis.
I drove for hours. The evening sun dropped below the trees, the fuel gauge blinked ominously, and I took a final drag from the last cigarette in the glove box. I don’t remember where I stopped. I remember seeing the big cardboard box with the ‘Adopt Me’ sign and praying desperately that someone hadn’t abandoned their baby. It was that kind of neighborhood.
The streetlights cast flickering shadows on the pothole-ridden street. I rolled down my window; the air rushed in, thicker here than at home. It smelled like an odd mix of cherry wood, rotten eggs, and citrus. Stray dogs stalked the shadows, yipping and howling like wolves to fresh meat. I was afraid they hurt the child.
I walked to the box. Every step of my boots echoed on the street. Besides the dogs, the neighborhood was dead silent. My pulse rose, and every hair on the back of my neck stood on end.
The puppy whimpered in the box.
I sighed in relief; it was just a stupid dog. How foolish to get all worked up over nothing!
Then I frowned. There wasn’t a soul in sight. This pup must have been starving, thirsty, and exposed to the elements. I couldn’t just leave it. I scooped it from the box, and it immediately calmed, cooed and licked my wrist with two of its three heads.
I thought it odd—a three-headed dog—but I figured three heads were far better than one. I walked back to my car and named it Pickles. My father did not approve.
But I didn’t give a shit.
Pickles was relatively well-mannered. Sure, he spat fire when he got an upset tummy. I guess I couldn’t blame him; my shithead father dumped a can of Coors into his water bowl. Pickles did his best, but the poor thing was wobbling around for hours, burping smoke and cinders and chasing our family’s cats around the house.
When Pickles grew larger, things escalated. The pup needed food, and the only thing that didn’t cause his stomach to get all rumbly was raw slabs of meat. When he could go a week on two pounds of beef, this wasn’t a big deal, but I soon found myself buying a half-slab of cow every few days.
Pickles ate one of our cats.
Pickles ate one of our neighbor’s dogs.
My father had enough. He gave me an ultimatum: either I fix the problem—or he would—permanently. He went out and bought a twelve-gauge shotgun. I knew what I had to do.
Because I’m staring at the basement door, and I know Pickles is down there. I know Pickles is hungry. And I know that there’s only one way this ends.
I really hope my father doesn’t scuff the door with all the scratching.
Bon Appétit, Pickles.
&#x200B;
***
More sinking realizations at r/BLT_WITH_RANCH | I've never been much of a dog person. Honestly I wasn't much of an animal person, though I'd certainly argue certain points. I never wanted a pet, or a companion, or anything of the sort.
So, you might ask, why was there a puppy in my room? Well, long story short, it was fuckin adorable. Big ass eyes, looking all pitiful and loveable. And now I have a puppy.
I don't know how to take care of a puppy, but that was the least of my concerns as time went on. Somehow, all the puppy's toys were being burned to a crisp. Turns out the lil shit could breathe fire.
Then, his tail grew into a snake. A fully autonomous snake. So now I had two pets, and I'll remind you, i didn't even want one.
But of course, that couldn't be the end. *He grew two more heads!* And guess what? All those could breathe fire too!
These...abnormalities all happened in the space of a month. Thankfully, the dog(s?) ate dog food and the snake ate mice. Honestly, as long as I let Kirby out to let off a little steam (Read: Fire) he seemed content.
Until the day he talked.
"Hey, uhh, Human? Why do I only get this dead dry stuff? The tail gets live meat..."
I set down the book I was trying to finish, and gave Kirby a deadpan glance.
"How long have you been able to talk?"
He paused to consider the question, the snake curling around to join in the pondering.
"Like...always? I think? I just never had anything th say." I let him out to hunt after that.
Honestly, I'm not much of an animal person. But a Cerberus? I think I can make an exception a time or 3. | 2019-07-04T07:55:29 | 2019-07-04T07:02:31 | 355 | 29 |
[WP] In vampire society, it is a capital offence to touch prey marked by a senior vampire. There is a very good reason they all shy away from the cross.
All credit to [https://www.reddit.com/r/TwoSentenceHorror/comments/wwon7a/in\_vampire\_society\_it\_is\_a\_capital\_offence\_to/](https://www.reddit.com/r/TwoSentenceHorror/comments/wwon7a/in_vampire_society_it_is_a_capital_offence_to/)
I just thought it'd make an interesting prompt. | "Viktor, you stand accused of poaching an elder's cattle. How do plead?" The Grand Inquisitor asked coldly. His blue eyes were piercing orbs of glacial ice.
"Typically, I plead on my knees, but if I'm feeling feisty, I might throw out some puppy dog eyes and a smolder. You know, appeal to our better angels and such." Viktor gave the panel of inquisitors a cheeky smile and shrugged. These were vampire lords, and he'd dared to feast on one of the humans marked by an elder. He could afford to be flippant about the matter. It wasn't like he wasn't going to be punished.
They might starve him to teach him a lesson or put him in a room with indirect sunlight for a year. They might bury him for a decade. He didn't know, but he wasn't too worried about it. Like them, he was immortal.
They could kill him, but over something like poaching human cattle, he doubted they go that far. After all, killing another vampire was the biggest taboo of their society. Killing an individual vampire wasn't a simple thing. Killing one means crippling all of those that vampire had turned.
When your life measures centuries, there's no telling which important member of their society had ties to the offender. It was entirely possible to injure the bride of someone powerful and with lots influence with a negligent death. No, they wouldn't kill him, but they were definitely going to make him suffer.
"You can still act frivolous even in this setting," the Grand Inquisitor observer acidly. "Do you have no defense?"
"Would it matter if I did? Let's just say I was feeling peckish, and leave it at that. I'm ready to receive my penance, Oh Great Grand Inquisitor."
"Very good. Then this Court of Lords hands down this decree. Viktor Flaudheart, we the Court of Lords do find you guilty and sentence you to be branded with the mark of the cross." Viktor suddenly felt like the floor had fallen out from under him. He'd only poached a human from an elder. Why would they go this far for cattle rustling?
"Lord Grand Inquisitor, what is the meaning of this? I admit I was in the wrong, but why would you go that far for a theft? I didn't betray the families or act seditiously. Why would go that far? I demand an answer."
"You demand?" The Grand Inquisitors laughed. "You demand! No wonder your tribe lags behind all the others. Your mind is shit. Ask a human chef if there is a difference between Portobello mushrooms and shitaki or truffles. You see a human think they're all the same. That human that you poached was one of a pair, and they were the last two non-genetically modified humans in existence. The rest are Walmart Brand knock offs.
"The elder spent years tracking down two with breeding prospects. He was in the process of arranging their habitat when you greedy, ignorant bastards hijacked the shipment. Now the elder is left with one male bull and no cow to impregnate. What's he supposed to do now? Every since this human GMO species emerged, our race has steadily gotten weaker. What do you expect we lords and elders to do? Feast of beast?"
"I don't know, you still got one human left. Tell him to go fuck himself," Viktor sneered.
"No, you go fuck yourself," the inquisitor fired back. "Bring in the brand."
Viktor's eyes went to the glowing brand as the disciplinary team end. They were all elite vampires two steps removed from being elders. He wasn't their match, and he knew it. But considering what lay in store of him, he tried to run anyway. He absolutely couldn't allow them to burn that brand into his flesh.
And he tried running, but they'd anticipated his flight path and quickly intercepted him, and with strength far outstripping his own, they wrestled him down onto his knees and yanked back on his hair to force him to face the council.
"No. No. Stop!" Viktor's pleas came out as growls of anger, but who were these individuals branding him but fellow vampires. There was no mercy in their hearts, no empathy. It wasn't because they suppressed these emotions. They were cursed, their blood was befouled. They were just incapable of feeling things like love and concern.
And while they all grinned with sadistic glee, Viktor quaked with fear as the white hot glowing iron lowered toward his brow. And the moment that blistering tool made contact, the room was filled with the smell of charring flesh and the hiss of sizzling skin and blood.
Viktor screamed. At first, it was due to the pain, but afterwards, it was due to an awakened realization of what he'd become. Like an window into the world of light, Viktor was able to feel again, able to remember the emotions he used to cherish. He could remember the mother who birthed him, the father who reared him, the older brother who taught him to hunt, and the younger brother and sister he used to dote on. And with that surge of emotional warmth came the memories of what he'd done to them the night after he was turned into a vampire.
This was the punishment they handed down to him. When a human is cursed, they're targeted with fear and terror and plagued with one horror after the other. But when you curse the undead, they're allowed to remember their life before and realize the evil they've done.
No one muzzled Viktor. No one helped him from the chamber. They all knew what the brand was doing to him, and they all feared it more than death. What mind could possibly be so strong as to handle a reality liked that? | It's easier said than done- being a vampire. People assume it's all straight banging right from the first draw. Well it's not. There's a lot of nuance. A lot people don't assume but that still needs pay heeding to before you can call yourself a vampire of any (dis)repute. There's rules, regulations, norms & then there's the big G.
People think vampires worship the devil. Or worse exist in some sort of limbo between heaven and hell and countless other realm-related tales borrowed from old books left behind by weary people, people wearier than themselves. And that's just the beginning of all they get wrong. It's really the pedagogy of education in schools these days. They don't teach them to ask half as many questions as they should. You could find a lot more curiosity in a economics class these days than in a history lecture, and that's saying something sadly. And I suppose it's unfair to blame it all on the poor students, or the poorer schools. They didn't get to devise the structures that rule their being, their day to day, their fears, their dreams, their histories.
We did.
With a little help from the devil.
There's this line from Dr. Faustus where the demon Mephistopheles remarks that man fears hell but he does not recognize that existence, in itself, is hell enough & more than anything man's mind can create. And there's a lot of truth, a lot of substance in what he says.
You see.
Life. Hah. Breath, blood, air, space, they're all concepts we devise to maintain the status quo but at the end of the day, all of these dichotomies, multiplicities, words, all they do is divide everything into a narrative with many chapters. As if you breathing in the same room as me is in any way separate from my vitriol of it. People make these separations because they're like sheep in a vast vast meadow & they have no shepherd. Only the vast blue sky of dull ache for the pain of birth & death stretched ad infinitum over & over again, till all they really know, all their minds really comprehend, all the information their veins can even carry, is just blind fear & panic in the face of the known.
Death. Plain & simple.
Quick, painful, without cause & no precedent.
And in the beginning it worked. There was constraint but it worked, however over time, as our numbers grew, the panic got too much, it mottled the flesh something awful. There's nothing more despairing than prey that knows you're coming, and nothing quite as unfulfilling. That's when the big G came to his own.
All vampires have a prime- a period of great accomplishment. Consider it a thesis of time itself. The big G, or how you remember him, the shepherd of the cross, was the first to illuminate the whole of mankind in such bright light that the panic all but disappeared. Laws were rewritten, pacts & truces were made & rules were writ. Rules we follow to this date.
It's really quite simple. You never throw that feeds you. And that's what the Big G gave to vampires. I suppose it's worth mentioning that among vampires there's a hierarchy of being and with higher hierarchy comes greater power & greater control.
The big G never died.
And he is all powerful.
So that about Mephistopheles saying being is but hell? I suppose it's worth mentioning he took the big G's name in vane. | 2022-09-05T09:46:06 | 2022-09-05T09:27:08 | 99 | 20 |
[WP] A god is observing a contest of strength between mortals, when he sees a mortal bragging about his "strength that rivals any god". The god decides to challenge him, disguised as a mortal. Neither realizes that their opponent is also a god. Things get out of hand. | As Kratos slumbered he could vividly hear someone speaking in the far distance.
“Cool abs, dude. You look like some ancient Greek god.”
Hearing this gave Kratos a headache. Back in ancient times, humans dared not compare themselves with gods, fearing that they would awaken their wrath. But now they were foolish and too full of themselves.
“Thanks, man. I have been working hard on pumping these babies to their max limit.”
“Honestly, you could become the god of muscles or something with how jacked you are.”
“Haha, thanks. But I still have long ways to go.” He said as he chuckled.
This was the last straw for Kratos, he was gonna show these mortals their ignorance once and for all.
He started chanting in an ancient tongue and soon materialized in front of a building.
Then he opened the door carefully as to not break it since he is not a monster who carelessly breaks everything he touches. Come on.
As he approaches the mortals who had angered him, he shouts as his voice echoes through the room:
“You who have angered the Kratos the god and embodiment of shear strength show yourself.”
A few seconds passed as the humans in front of him looked around, confused about what he was referring to.
Then a buff human with yellow hair and a pointy chin stepped forward.
“Hey, man. I think you heard the conversation between me and that dude earlier.” He said. “Need help figuring out anything about the gym or any exercises?”
Kratos even more angered than before, points at the human and shouts:
“What is your name, human?”
“My name is Chad and if you need help here, you can come to me.” He answered confidently.
“Very well, Chad. I shall challenge you to a fight to make an example out of all those who compare themselves to the mighty gods.”
Chad thought about it for a few seconds, then said:
“Ok, man. But today was my leg day and my legs feel pretty sore. So nothing involving the legs. How about we do some arm wrestling?”
“Alright, Human. We will have it your way.”
“I told you my name Chad.”
As they sit on their chair and put their elbows on the table, they intensely stare at each other's eyes. But even though Chad’s eyes had the look of focus, Kratos’s eyes had beamed of overconfidence.
As the countdown came to 1, the started pushing their palms against each other.
Kratos was surprised by how much of a fight the human in front of him was putting up. So he put even more force into his fist.
Everyone was watching in awe of the shear strength of these beings of pure muscle as if two unstoppable forces had clashed against each other.
Seconds passed, then minutes, then hours, until the gym was closed. But they still remained.
The next day, when everyone was back at the gym they were shocked to find Kratos’s hand lying on his right side. He was passed out from exhaustion. As for Chad, he was drenched in sweat gasping for air. After a few minutes, Chad was breathing normally against and Kratos woke up from his sleep.
As he looked in front of him, he was shocked by what he saw in front of him.
He was defeated.
But instead of becoming bewildered, he spoke in a calm soft voice:
“I see, so the gods are no longer that much stronger than mortals. We had left them to their own devices for so long that they have found ways to surpass us. Perhaps, I underestimated all of you too much.”
“It is ok, man. You put up a good fight. And we all have a long way to go, so feel free to drop by and exercise from now and then, I will scout for you.”
The defeated god chuckled.
“You are so strong, yet you humble yourself so much. Tell me Chad, how do you it?”
Chad once again thought to himself, then he answered”
“Well, We all have to start from somewhere and everyone who is in this gym wants to become stronger, so there is no shame in that. I just happened to have a headstart over everyone else. So in a sense, I am Chad, the god of this gym.”
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***If you liked my work, I would be humbled if you would check out my other pieces at*** r/FluffWrites\*\*\*.\*\*\*
***I am also working on a new fantasy writing series that I plan to become a huge thing in the future, so check that out too if it is to your taste ----->*** [***The dark road ahead. Chapter 0: Sacrifice***](https://www.reddit.com/r/FluffWrites/comments/hybda2/series_the_dark_road_ahead_chapter_0_sacrifice/) | Being in quarantine sure does suck as a god. One of my favorite pastimes used to be watching a set of mortals interact with each for the first time. The expressions and body language would be so complex yet completely contradict with what their neanderthal brains were trying to accomplish.
"Me. Sex. You."
Watching that juxtaposition happen in real-time was something that I'd always set my DVR to.
But alas, in these times of crisis, even us God's must learn to adapt. Which is why I now prefer to lurk over the shoulders of an internet commentator. You know, those people who actually write stuff in the comment section at the end of an article.
Holy hell, what a ride.
To think I haven't paid more attention to these attention seeking individuals. It's pure entertainment. You want to talk about juxtaposition theater? The image portrayed by their keystrokes vs what they actually know inside their own head is my new guilty pleasure.
So imagine my surprise when one night I come across an ever so sudtle comment on an article about a female CEO. An anymous poster was asking this powerful woman to hit him up sometime cause he's a 'god in bed'.
As I'm Laying there - I'm thinking to myself, "Wait a second, I'm a literal God in bed right now."
So naturally, I had to do a deep dive on what was going on between the ears of this one.
But then the strangest thing happened as I began my journey. Nothing. I couldn't get a read on this guy. The further I dug the greater vastness of emptiness I felt. Coming back to my senses I opened my eyes and wad shocked to be flooded with typo ridden comment posts flowing all around me like a swarm of illeterate bees.
With a hail of 'LULZ' and 'LMFAO' floating around me, I tried to make sense of it all. Quickly, I grabbed onto a 'Thanks Karen' and peered into it's orgins. There I discovered the foe that has littered my space with so many capital letters. It was the God of Internet Commenting. And It was not happy.
I had to act fast. Grabbing a handful of dergatory words I was able to pinpoint the divine position of this forever vomtting troll. And it was then that I decided to take the extreme step and due the unthinkable. Hit it really it really hurts.
Cancel It's internet service.
Suddenly all the 'PLEWB's and 'WTF's fell from my vision dissolving into a glorious internet soil. Which will hopefully someday grow into large, beautiful, diverse comment section. | 2020-07-26T22:10:07 | 2020-07-26T15:57:53 | 73 | 32 |
[WP] When people turn 18, they gain the power to summon 1 random thing in the world to their hand, as Thor does to Mjolnir. Summoned people are considered soulmates, and objects as important parts of one's life. When you summon yours, it takes some time, but people are horrified when it arrives... | Not once in my life had something come to me. I had willed, wished, and pleaded with the world that the rest of my body and soul would come flying to my hand after my 18th birthday. It never did. My wife always loved to take pictures, she had a 35mm camera that would fly to her on a moments notice and always contained film. She loved that thing, sometimes even more than me, always taking photos of our adventures, our kids, and family gatherings. The house was littered with collages, artworks made from the myriad of photos. Here I was with nothing, still only half of the person everyone else was.
My first son summoned his soulmate when he was 18. She just showed up at the door one day and asked to meet him. Their connection was unimaginable, the most beautiful thing I’ve seen in my life. Just as any object becomes another half of someone beings the two of them became one person in life. Moving forward with only the most pure of convictions. Even when he moved out of the house, I was still hardly alive lacking any sense of importance in the world.
The TV was playing the news, fairly standard when your life was constrained to a hospital bed. I rarely paid any attention to it but today just felt different, the nurses in the halls worked more hurriedly and the air just felt more somber than normal. Well, even more somber than the normal feeling for a wing of dying people at least.
I had been stuck in this bed this entire year, already resigned myself to die without being whole. Throughout my life I had tried to talk to doctors, shrinks, and even self proclaimed witches about why I had never summoned anything to me. No one could explain it, I was just a freak, it’s a miracle that my wife even loved me. She’s always respond with things like “If you can’t summon anything, I’ll make up for it by completing you”.
“Breaking news.” These words drew my attention back to the TV, the newscaster’s face even more pale than the patient next door. His voice low, his tone lethargic, and temp reduced to that of a dying cadence. “Scientist have tried everything; Ceres 1 will collide with the earth tonight at 9pm. The world governments have attempted to destroy the asteroid and have kept its change of course secret for the last 70 years. Tonight, is the last day there will be life on Earth.”
I was shocked, I knew I didn’t have much left to live for, today was my 88th birthday after all and the doctors said the cancer could kill me any day. Looking back up at the TV Ceres 1 was displayed, and finally I felt whole. I couldn’t help but worry that my kids hadn’t yet found fulfillment in their lives.
---
First response ever, never thought I'd actually respond to one of these. | I was 17 back then tomorrow wouldve been my 18th birthday the summoning day but i had other worries, the over-populated world caused massive capitalisation of life and made the climate change become a serious problem,I had to do something even when it meant comitting genocide.
Heroes where born with intergalactic weapons and overpowered shields nothing couldve stopped them if they wouldve decided to go evil.
But there I was, freshly 18, it took 20 hours for my special tool to arrive.
A fiercly golden plated glove, with gems of incredible power socketed into each finger, to destroy and to be reborn was the destiny of all life, it just needed an successor, it needed me. | 2019-09-18T07:48:31 | 2019-09-18T07:13:42 | 643 | 67 |
[WP] With no other choice left you summon the devil. It becomes very awkward when your Dad that 'left to buy cigarettes' suddenly appears in the circle. | I knew he was evil but not *that* evil.
"Dad," I said to the devil -- the actual devil that is. He wore a red cape and red horns grew out of his red head and he had a curly black pencil thin mustache. "You decide to now show up after all these years?"
When he first appeared, dad wore an evil grin on his face but it melted into a frown the more he studied my features.
"Jesus Christ," he said in a rather human voice. "You're all grown up son."
He looked around my single bedroom apartment. Most of the plaster walls wore a faded white coat of paint without any art hung upon it. One wall however -- the wall dad walked through -- was drenched with the deepest red from a slain goat's blood. A pentagram drawn with velvet black chalk displayed in the center of the panel. It wasn't the most ideal wall decor but it did bring some personality to my living space.
Dad looked down at my coffee table that also doubled as a makeshift workspace. Medical books stacked upon another like a Jenga tower right before the blocks topple.
"So your uh--a medical student huh?" he muttered.
"Cardiology," I replied.
"That's...that's just great. A lot of doctors have a god complex so it looks like your a chip off the ol' chopping block!" he said trying to break the awkward tension.
I stared at the man that left me and my mom 15 years ago in a broke down camper that had a leaky roof when it rained. He told us he was stepping out to get dinner. Hawaiian pizza with extra pineapples. The man never returned.
"So, how's your mother?" he asked.
"She died 4 years ago," I said absently.
Satan winced. "Well if it means anything to you, I haven't seen her down *there*." He pointed towards the stained carpet. "So she must have done some good in this world to end up *there*." He looked up at the busted ceiling fan.
I remained motionless still trying to process the idea that my dad was Lucifer in the flesh. Then I pondered if my inordinate teenage rebellious stage was due to family genetics.
"Okay Aaron help me out here. You summoned me to this place asking to swap out your soul for something else. Well, either we play catch-up or we get to the business side of things. What do you need from me?"
"I needed a father growing up," I whispered. "I remember the night you left. Mom and I were so hungry but you abandoned us while we placed buckets under all the leaky parts of the camper."
I broke away from his gaze. "And I'm still go hungry dad. Mom's hospital bills from her heart myxoma, my college education, and climbing inflation served me millions of dollars worth of debt. I'm trying my best to survive and repair the world, but the world won't accept help. It cares about a bank account balance, going viral with a 5 second dance, and owning the latest electronic."
Dad turned around and looked at the pentagram he walked through when I called for him. A moment of clarity struck him.
"You want to repair the world," he repeated.
I scratched my head. "Yeah I suppose. I tried to go the Christian route but that group tends to cause more problems. They've ventured way off course from their own gospel."
The devil looked down on me and shed a tear that evaporated into mist due to his face being baked in fire a few minutes earlier.
"You're so much more like your mother than you are of me."
He walked around my apartment in deep thought. "How about this: I'll be a good father and help out for once. I'll grant you all the medical knowledge you need to know to pass the board exam. I'll also Venmo you enough money to get you out of debt. Do you have a car? How's it running?"
I nodded my head. "I have a 2010 Honda civic. It could use a tune up."
"So be it. When you walk down to the parking lot you'll see the newest edition of the car fully paid. But that's all I'll provide. You'll need to work and make the world better place. Trust me, if humans were as pathetic as you claim then I wouldn't have such a difficult time deceiving them."
He made his way back to the blood red wall. A portal to Hell opened.
"But you know, I need something in exchange. The devil doesn't give hand-me-outs like the democrats."
I stood up. "I understand. You need my soul."
He shook his head. "No, I won't ask for that in return. I rather you be with your mother in the afterlife. She'll be astounded to hear all your stories and accomplishments."
I tilted my head. "What do you want instead?"
He reached out to me.
"Just a hug, son."
\------------------------------------
**Quick Note:**
Hey all! Thanks for reading the story. Please read the others in the thread if you have a moment. They’re fantastic!
Good new for those who liked my story: I’m planning on launching a subreddit in the next month with all my work on this account and past ones too. I’m currently slammed with school, but I’ll have ample time to write once the holiday season kicks off.
All of my submissions to /r/writingprompts are quickly thrown together with minimal edits (which explains all the grammatical and tense errors that pepper my writing). I plan on throughly editing all my postings on that upcoming TBA subreddit. I’ll also be posting non-writingprompt stories.
Like all novice content creators, I’m quite nervous getting this creative ball rolling. If you care to be kept up to date with my work then please give me a follow. It’ll provide a boost of confidence and help gauge any interest with my stories.
Thanks again! | “What the he-“
“Don’t finish that sentence.” My dad chided, wearing one of those ridiculous red and white sports sweaters he’d always worn at the dinner table, tapping his glasses once. “Didn’t your mother or I teach you not to look into freaky occult stuff? I know she didn’t tell you about the “oops, your dad is the literal prince of darkness who goes by many names, little awkward to bring up!” He hissed, giving me a look.
For a moment, I stood silent before shrugging.
“So when I said my old man was literally the devil at those parties-“
“Yes, YES, I saw those.” He muttered, raising his hand.
“So, what do you want? If you’re going to talk about the dozens of half siblings trying to kill you and each other thing, that’s just a sibling quirk. They’ll mellow out eventually.”
I blinked.
“What?”
He blinked.
“Okay, so you didn’t call me to talk about that. Here to catch up?”
“No.”
“Here to call me out?”
“Honestly, I didn’t know you were the devil until just now.”
My father blinked for a moment, before a familiar smirk rose to his face as the penny finally dropped.
“Here to make a deal?” He chimed, his tone becoming more jovial as he chuckled. “Summoning the devil, dealing with the devil- what would your mother think?”
“She’s far too busy at “work.” Spends hours at the same bar picking up guys, then going on vacations for months with em.” I murmured in reply, as my father shrugged.
“No thanks to you.”
“I don’t control people’s actions.” He muttered defensively, shrugging. “All I do is offer options or suggestions. But as you know, I can offer rewards. So, what do you want? A loan of a few million? Power that makes the president look like a child in comparison? Maybe one of those girls you kept watching in high school- or several.”
“What I want.” I mouthed, frowning as I looked at him.
“Is everything I deserve.”
He blinked.
“I’ve lost my job, my mother’s even worse at the parenting deal than you are, and I’ve been stuck in this town for seven extra years. I want my fair share. I want it all, Dad.”
For a moment, he gave me a look that seemed intertwined between pity and disgust before sighing, waving his hands together.
“I’ll get the fine print ready.”
A contract knitted itself together from the fabric of every object around it, and he extended it.
“Blood, please. We’ll provide the rest.”
A single cut.
The contract glowed and hissed, dissipating as he grinned.
“Now we’re in business forever.” My father chuckled, and the circle cracked.
I blinked, as he calmly stepped over the protective wards and slowly, calmly walked to me.
“Everything you deserve.” He chided softly as his face gleamed, and as his hands reached to my shoulders.
“Haven’t I told you to always, always think about your wording? No wonder you can’t get out of this town- you managed to be piss poor at English class.”
My father’s grip was stronger than I remembered, and his laugh was more vindictive than I thought possible as we vanished from my home in a single flash of light.
Well, my old home.
I wish I could say this story has a happy ending, or that hell is nicer than the stories say of it, but it’s rather the opposite.
On the bright side though, now I have forever to catch up with dad.
When he visits me and the others he’s confined in this spot, anyway. | 2021-11-25T07:58:21 | 2021-11-25T06:21:29 | 737 | 83 |
[WP] Aliens aren't surprised when most of humanity is considered a 'level 1 threat', the lowest possible. although they are shocked when they scan a singular human and find that they are a 'level 10 threat', the highest there is. | Jace stepped through the scanner carrying his duffle bag, pausing at the sound of an alarm. Odd, that hadn't gone off for any of the aliens entering the station ahead of him. Sure, he had his trusty Ka-Bar (never leave home without such a useful tool, especially if it doubled as a self defense impliment), but he was told very plainly that galactic civilization wasn't concerned with knives smaller than the claws on some species. Especially not when they were being carried by squishy, peace loving humans.
Jace turned to look at the guards, who looked as confused as he was. With a shrug they motioned for him to step aside for further processing. Jace sighed and stepped over to the indicated area. They scanned him with a handheld scanner and it pinged. The insectoid guard clacked it's mandibles. The translator in his ear relayed the message.
"Level ten. How?"
"Level ten? I thought we were a level 1 species."
"You are. The rating of a species is determined by the majority of its members. Deviations of as much as 3 levels aren't unusual. Deviations of 5 levels are rare. A deviation from 1 to 10 is unheard of." The guard eyed him. "You're not a Dogelpan posing as a human are you? Please don't be a Dogelpan."
Jace held his hands up defensively. "No, no, I'm human."
"Fine. Well as you're reading as a level ten threat... somehow... I'll need your profession, personal history, and reason for visiting this station."
"Lieutenant Jace Edwards, United Earth Coalition Army, 7th Rangers Regiment, retired. Here looking for work." He paused. "I can't discuss my personal history beyond that. Most of it is classif-"
Another alarm went off behind him and Jace turned to look. An innocent looking Antin suddenly sprouted blade tipped tentacles, grew until it towered over all the guards, and opened its mouth to reveal row upon row of teeth bigger than Jace's Ka-Bar. One of the tentacles whipped through a guard, slicing the being neatly in two.
"Fucking hell. You had to mention them, didn't you?" Jace glanced back to the guard interviewing him to see the Rogden had turned a sickly shade of yellow and was backing away in fear. "Shit. Up to me then."
Jace drew his Ka-Bar and shook his head, grumbling to himself. "This shit is why I retired." Then he roared, "Hey, ugly!"
The Dogelpan whipped its head towards him, flinging a piece of a fourth dead guard back towards the shuttle where civilians huddled in fear.
"Let me guess, the mission is scare everyone. Well mission fucking failed asshole." Jace started sprinting towards the space monster. A tentacle whipped towards him faster than the bystanders could follow, only to go flying off at an odd angle as the Dogelpan pulled back a stump. Green ichor dripped from the Ka-Bar. Jace didn't slow down.
Faster than anyone could possibly react, the wicked maw snapped towards the human, intent on removing his head. Jace whirled desperately, moving faster than the Dogelpan. The jaws closed on nothing as a Ka-bar sprouted from the back of the Doglepan's head.
For a second, everything seemed to freeze. The Dogelpan's massive bulk hit the deck, the vibrations of the impact being felt through the whole of the station. Jace retrieved his Ka-Bar, wiping it on the tunic worn by the now dead Doglepan and looked up at the guard who had been interviewing him.
"Fucking hell. How long have you worked security. NEVER mention Doglepans unless you've just killed one mate. Never. They'll show up every fucking time." He took a breath to calm himself. "Now as I was saying, I'm retired Earth special forces, and I'm here looking for work." He looked around at the bodies littering the deck. "And you seem to have four openings on your security team."
EDIT: Fixing the formatting errors caused by coping this from my text editor. | "Cell 1582, step forward for processing," stated the alien Overseer in charge of inducting recently captured humans into the slave pits. "Cell 1582. Contribution to society: Maintenance worker. Locally referred to as "Plumber" . Threat level: 2. Above average mental capabilities. Physical capabilities lacking. Designated variable defined as Berret, Christoff. Height: 61.s.y. gw units. Weight: 2318.f.i. jq units. Take comfort that your vessel of flesh will serve The Body as a newly integrated Cell. Next."
The underling assigned to Cell 1582 directed the meat shield towards the transport headed for the outer limits of the ship.
"Cell 1583, step forward for processing." As the next female slave approached, the Overseer noticed her assigned underling visibly shaking and keeping its distance. Unphased, but a little puzzled, the Overseer continued. "Cell 1583. Contribution to society-" He paused to correct himself. "Detraction from society: grueling. Locally referred to as 'Abitch Andahalf'. Threat-" Suddenly something erupted. Chaos ensued the likes of which had never been encountered by any alien on the entire ship.
As the fleshy interior of the walls started to crackle and melt, and the aliens' equipment began to spark, and inhuman screams were heard echoing down the burning halls, one could see the Overseer's data broadcast onto the cracked overhead screen, blinking and stabilizing in the background of the carnage. Through the flesh tainted smoke, one could barely make out the report the Overseer failed to finish. It read, "Cell 1583. Detraction from society: grueling. Locally referred to as 'Abitch Andahalf'. Threat Level: 10. Severe below average mental capabilities. Physical capabilities lacking. Designated var-" and here, the cracked screen disfigured the next bits, but the very last word on the screen read "Karen". | 2022-08-28T07:56:59 | 2022-08-28T03:48:01 | 79 | 18 |
[WP] In a different age, Aliens invaded and were defeated by Cavemen, as a result they prepared for a second battle thousands of years in the future, when they expected humanity to be the most fearsome beings in the universe, they return to find society as it is now
EDIT: August 8th, 2014 @ 2:35PM:
Wow, /r/WritingPrompts.
The quality of the work in this thread is absolutely amazing! | A battle scar raced across his face. The commander sat in his ready room waiting for a status on the trans-location device. It had been nearly 100 cycles since they had faced their greatest defeat to a handful of primitives. He remembers the defeat as if it were yesterday. 200 men and women destroyed in just hours. The planet had been reported uninhabited just 20 cycles earlier. It was supposed to have been a settlement, a simple outpost for the Xandok empire. In retaliation, a force of 1,000 soldiers were sent into the breach. Only 300 survived.
They were savages. The energy disrupters and plasma shields were not designed to deflect sticks and rocks. The psionic emitters were essentially useless as well. They were supposed to drive them mad, fight among themselves, do the job for us. It just made them savager. They fought hand to hand, tooth and nail. Our people were not prepared. Their physiology made them immune to our weapons, useful against Xandorians, but useless against these savages. It was the first sentient race we had ever encountered in the entirety of the Glorvox Spiral. We had thought we were alone. Our scientists pleaded to go back. Study them, learn from them, befriend them... ha! The fools didn't know how savage these beasts truly were, there was no negotiation.
For 100 cycles we have trained and hardened. 10 clutches have been born and bred for this moment. We will arrive on their doorstep and crush the savages. We have developed weapons that will make short work of their sticks and stones. Nothing will withstand us. The commander caressed his vibro sword and drew it from it's metal sheath. With a flick it hummed to life. Capable of cutting through 12 inches of hardened Tritonium, it was the greatest of their technological accomplishments. He would cut a swath of death and destruction through their ranks. Their red blood would cover the ground this time. His fingers caressed the scar that ran down his face. He could remember the savage who put it there. A face of anger and insanity. Muscles that rippled and powered through his men. The sharp obsidian axe that nearly ended his 10 cycles of being. He was just a footsoldier at the time. The commander, General Xiath-Corntin led them that day. When the field ran green with his own clutches blood it was the general who spurned them on. He grasped a stick and pulled it from a dead soldier and plunged it into the chest of a savage. He showed us that they could die. It was too late though. He too was cut down. Command forced our retreat when the general died. I still see them in my dreams, tearing the general apart. He held two of them by the throat while stabbing a third with a sharpened rock. As the breach pulled us back in I could hear him yell his final words, "FIGHT!". Now we will finally come back to avenge our brothers. To fight the savages with savagery of our own.
A bell chimed and a holoemitter glowed on the table. The commander waved his hand and the chief scientist stood at attention. "We are ready, sir. The gateway is charged and coordinates have been laid in." He nodded and the holofield went dark. The commander stood his muscles rippled. His third arm clutched the vibro sword and replaced it in it's sheath. Metal allow armor that fitted him like skin rippled in anticipation. He walked out of his quarters and entered the hangar. Below 5,000 of his best men were ready. Armed to the teeth with swords and shields. They stood the moment he stood at the parapet.
"Today men we avenge our brothers and sisters. Today we march into the unknown for glory and honor. Today we take the war to the savages!" cries of agreement rang out, the men whooped and hollered. He could taste the aggression being broadcast through the air by the psionic emitters. He made his way to the portal and watched as it flashed to life. He lead his men through.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Sheriff Roberts was parked on the turnpike waiting for speeders to pass through. It was noon on a Sunday though and traffic was pretty light. He reached for his coffee when a bright light appeared before him. A creature came out dressed in what looked like a metallic jumpsuit. It had three arms and walked on two legs. A strange metal sheath attached to a belt. He stepped out of his cruiser and saw several more creatures come through five at a time. He grabbed his radio as the lead creature locked eyes with him. It reached for it's belt and pulled out what looked like a shining sword. Suddenly a horn blared. They both looked to the sound of a semi truck carrying a load of diesel barreling down the highway. It crashed into the lead creature and suddenly vanished into the portal taking the strange creatures with it. The portal glimmered for a second more and then vanished. The radio crackled in the sheriffs hands, "This is central, please respond." The voice broke his daze and he lifted the mic, "Nothing to report central. I think I'm going to head in. Not feeling so hot."
"Alright Steve, take it easy out there. Central out." the radio crackled one more time and went silent. Sheriff Roberts got into his vehicle and headed home.
Edit: Thank you for the gold kind stranger! | The General sat in his command vehicle. He surveyed the displays of his armies. He smiled as a father smiles at his children. He zoomed in on Battallion A. The troops were arrayed in battle uniforms. Their faces calm and focused inside their battle helmets. He switched to Battallion B. The infantry arrayed in front of the hover tanks showed even less expression than those of Battallion A. These were the experienced soldiers. Those who made up the 2nd wave.
He knew he was ready. No matter what these natives on that planet near the yellow star had figured out how to make, he knew his men could stand up to it.
The General's men had the benefit of a society whose only purpose it had been was to defeat those who had previously defeated them. The last time they opened the portal they had expected a peaceful people. Those with whom they could talk and exchange ideas with. Instead, they got beat over the head with wooden sticks. Not this time.
"We're just waiting for the scouts to return," informed his assistant, "they're late, but not worryingly so."
The door burst open and a single man burst in. The General looked up and down the strange shaped individual. His 5 strange appendages coming off a central part of the body. How did these humans move like this? He wasn't sure, but clearly the scouts had learned to handle these disguises well enough. "What have you to report? What is the preffered landing spot for the teleportation portal?"
"Sir! Do not invade! Destroy that portal and never go there!"
"WHAT? We've prepared for this for generations. We've surely got better weaponry than they do. We can't possibly lose this time!"
"No Sir. You don't understand. I'm the only scout of the 2 dozen assigned that was able to make the return trip. The rest were captured. I've no idea how they saw through the disguise, but they immediately locked us up as aliens. I have no idea how they saw through the disguises so quickly."
"Captured? Locked up? What do you mean? Like when we find animals with genetic problems rendering them vicious?"
"Yes Sir. Precisely like that. Except, they do it to each other. All the time. While we were locked up like this, one of the other humans, that's what they call themselves, apparently also had such a genetic problem. He took to fghting with us. In the processes, we had to render him incabable of fighting. Then we were transferred to another facility. That one was worse. During such a fight one of us was badly cut with a very primitive cutting weapon."
The General's face turned ashen. He saw where this was going. The disguise was broken.
"He was immediately taken from us. Within hours, they came for the rest of us. I, alone, managed to avoid capture from this facility. But our hidden communicators still worked. Sir the screams I heard in my ear for the next few days are ones I will never forget. The reports I received I almost can't even repeat to you. Expiriments were performed, is all I can say. Just listen to the recordings."
"So, they know about us?"
"Yes. But that's not the worst of it. The way they treat their own people in those facilitiies is nightmarish. Sir, if this is how they treat their own for no good reason we stand no chance of ever defeating them. Worse yet, they have no desire to treat them better. They actually seem to like treating their own this way. Imagine what they'll do to us." | 2014-08-07T08:22:41 | 2014-08-07T08:11:21 | 566 | 43 |
[WP] Your parents insist you are their biological child, but you suspect otherwise. You send samples from yourself, your parents, and siblings to a lab be tested. The lab replies that it is not equipped to test non-human DNA... | Her face furrowed in concentration as she read the official looking small print on the paper I had given them. She had taken it out of my father's hands just as he finished skimming the page. Ever the poker player, his face showed no emotion. My mother's face, however, had one very easily identifiable emotion- confusion.
"I don't understand. Do you think you're pregnant?" she asked.
"No, mom. I just haven't felt.... right."
She looked up from the piece of paper and stared into my eyes for a moment.
"Is this some kind of prank?"
"No! You... I can't explain it. I just haven't felt right in weeks, and I wanted to make sure I was... yours." I tried to put on the most serious face I could, under the circumstances. I felt my eyes welling up.
"So what you're trying to say," my dad finally spoke, "is that you're worried we might be space aliens or deep sea monsters that have replaced your real parents."
"I don't know, dad, I-" a deep sigh escaped my lungs. "I just want you to tell me the truth."
A silence fell over the room. My parents stood as still as pond water. In that moment I truly wondered whether their skin would melt away to show the demons they were underneath. I almost jumped when my father finally stirred after what felt like the most eternal 30 seconds to say-
"Fine. Let's be truthful." He leaned forward and a small smirk almost seemed to creep up on his bearded face. "But you go first."
"Me?" I felt my eyes involuntarily get wider. "O... K..."
My father reached into his pocket and pulled out a familiar looking pink packet filled with colored paper.
"Where did you get this?" He asked, trying to stay serious.
"What is that?"
"You know exactly what this is and how it got into your nightstand." His face lost any trace of a smile.
"I don't-" I shifted my weight and lost the power of speech.
"Young lady, you forget that we used to be teenagers at one time, and most certainly know what a sheet of acid looks like."
"I don't know how.... I didn't... it's..."
My world crashed down and I felt helpless. My secret discovered, I finally decided to give in. I lowered my head and told them everything.
"Mark gave it to me on my birthday. He said it would make me more perceptive to the underlying currents of the univ-" my dad suddenly cut me off.
"I switched our tissue samples for some pig saliva from the farm," he said matter-of-factly. "Don't think that just because we're old we can't see what is happening with our own daughter. You do understand that acid can make you paranoid, right?"
My mother crossed her arms and gave me her best look of disapproval she was capable of.
"I'm sorry." My head lowered as low as it could possibly go without touching the floor.
"It's ok," my dad said getting out of his seat finally. "We all make mistakes. Especially when we're distractable teenagers that are stupid enough to fall for a simple sleight of hand trick."
"Thanks, dad. I won-"
"Also, you're grounded for a month." | "I don't get it! Your DNA just goes C, C, C *over and over again*! I've done it again, and I've done it again! I've made Mathew do it, I've sent it off to *China* to be done again. By all rights you should be a pile of sludge on the ground" He leaned in so that I could feel his hot breath on my face "*What are you*?"
I had sent them in samples a few weeks ago, and had received a bizarre reply moments later from an intern at HelixIO telling me they couldn't sequence non-human DNA, but I assumed they had made an error, so I sent another one in. This happened a few times, but it had obviously caught the eye of a superior, because the replies had stopped, and then I had received a neat letter in the post, asking me to get on the train to London at once.
"*And I'll be damned if I don't find out*" He said, a long thin smile spreading across his face as he picked up a scalpel. | 2015-01-06T10:37:19 | 2015-01-06T10:17:41 | 80 | 34 |
[WP] Our blood is naturally clear, it thickens and darkens with each impure act. You have always dedicate yourself to good and helping others but today while knitting beanies for the homeless you accidentally prick your finger. Your blood is jet black and so thick it doesn't even drip. | They say there are seven deadly sins. That's a bunch of bullshit. It's just propaganda. The lies they feed us to keep us all in a nice neat well-behaved huddled mass. Leave it to the Christians to believe the new blood everyone is born with is a test from their God. Maybe it is, I don't know. I've never believed in that hocus pocus bullshit. But something happened, maybe it was a God who did it. Its worldwide now with no cure in the pipeline so it's doubtful it was a government. No terrorists ever took credit. Maybe a mad scientist somewhere thought it would make the world a better place. It didn't.
Some of those seven deadly sins don't even register in the blood yet other little offenses do. It seems to depend on the person. Studies haven't been able to find much consistency person to person. One thing has been agreed on though, once you go black you never go back.
I know I know, it's stupid. An old punchline people started using again but for whatever dumb reason it stuck. You get the idea though, bad deeds darken and thicken your blood bit good deeds don't reverse it. So much for the karma theory.
Whether it was God or a mad scientist who did it they clearly underestimated the human condition. It didn't make things better, it didn't really make things worse either just inconvenient. Like I mentioned before good deeds don't reverse the bad blood. But new blood does.
Those who can afford it, and need it, get blood transfusions as often as required. Which of course means those who need the money and have sufficient purity get paid for our blood. Blood banks are now privately owned and more plentiful than Starbucks. People who are wealthy enough even have their own private donors. They are called bloodboys, this is where I come in. Bloodboys are usually housed, fed and paid a handsome sum to be drawn on once a week or so. The sponsor dumps a pint of his blood and injects the bloodboys' in hopes of slowly purifying his own body in theory. In reality it's more of an attempt to stabilize the current level off corruption.
I've always had grade A pure blood. It isn't because of my desperation to remain such or some phony religious devotion. It's just how I was raised. My dad always taught me to be good to other people, always be friendly and courteous. Its simply the human thing to do. Be happy with what you have but share it freely and the most valuable gifts are trust and time.
Today I find out with a small prick of my finger and a small bead of black that someone has abused my trust and stolen all of my time. Things I would have given freely if they had but asked. I have been robbed blind of everything I value. But now with my blood and black as night, thick as tar and no way back there would be consequences. I knew just where to start. | I stood there for a moment, as i looked at the prick on my finger from my knitting needle. Where there should have been a crystal clear fluid, somehow, a sludge of sin and immorality sat in my veins.
"How could this be?" i thought. I sat there, wondering.
Was i not good when i spent hours walking dogs at the animal shelter? Was i not good when i spent days giving food to the homeless? Was I not good when i spent years of my life in another country, in the middle of a war zone sacrificing everything i had for these worthless sacks of meat?! And it was all for nothing? How could it be?! How could I not be a good person? | 2018-08-04T10:28:00 | 2018-08-04T10:24:42 | 26 | 13 |
[WP] An old, forgotten god is living their days peacefully in the suburbs. One day they randomly receives a prayer. And they are going to do everything in their power to answer it. | She had set-up her booth at the street-corner, under the giant maple tree which marked the junction of 56th and Elmsway. Her handwriting was neat and precise, such that the words on her chalk board were legible even from a distance away. 'Portraits - $1', it read. I was disappointed to find that there was no array of samples on display, which is how the street artists do it in the cities. But she was only 8 years old (I had a feeling that her birthday had passed recently), so I was willing to cut her some slack.
I ambled over, and she brightened as she saw me approaching.
"Sir, sir! I can do your portrait! Would you like that?"
"That's nice. Where are you from? This is the first time I'm seeing you around here."
"Oh, er, I'm not from here. I came from the city."
Which wasn't the whole truth, given the way that she had shifted in her seat. Where humans choose to plant their roots rarely interested me, but I was curious as to how she had ended up here. I rationed a tiny splinter of my powers, then divined the truth. That she was from the city was correct - more specifically, she lived at St. Horus' Shelter, which was at least an hour away by bus.
"So what brings you here?"
"Well... I'd heard that the people here are rich! I'm pretty sure they wouldn't mind getting their portraits done, right? Everyone in the city is too busy for these things, so here I am!"
I laughed, then rattled my cane on the tarmac. "You've got that part right, miss! Everyone here's rich enough that they certainly wouldn't miss a dollar or two. But I'd hate to see you disappointed."
"Why's that?"
"They may be too busy to stop by."
"Busy... Busy doing their own things? Running their businesses, such-like?"
I nodded. I knew best, after all. I lived right at the centre of the neighborhood. I was old now, a shadow of what I was once, but the sensitive ones amongst my neighbors had still been drawn to the promise of my power. They couldn't have realised that subtle influence on them, but my presence was still a signal flare to their subconscious. The real estate salesmen thought that they were the glib ones, and if they had known I was the real reason for their successes, they would have taken up arms just to get an audience with me.
And what day had not gone by without their prayers filtering over to me, permeating through the walls like sand through sieves? The lazy ones wished for riches, which they believed to be the shortest path to fulfillment. The more industrious ones wished for the opportunities to seize their own successes. Those I respected a bit more, but not enough for me to actually do anything for them.
Not that I could, even if I wanted to. Not in my present state.
"But tell me, what do you need the money for? Say a dozen, a hundred of the people here lined up for your drawings. What would you do with the money?"
"I'd buy more supplies, of course!"
"To make more money?"
She laughed, then shook her head. She beckoned me over, and I went closer. Behind the booth, there was a stack of papers clipped to a broken clipboard. Her canvases seemed recycled, and some of them even had creased scars or crumpled dog-ears. Her instrument of choice, a boxed set of coloured pencils, was incomplete. The primary colours were missing, and of the ones which remained, they had been sharpened so many times that they were almost stubs.
"I don't know about more money, mister, but supplies first. These were the ones I found at home. It's just so expensive getting new ones, you know?"
"You think people are going to pay you for art done using those?"
"That's why it's only a dollar, mister! When I have more, I'll charge more!"
I fished out a bill from my coat, then handed it over to her. She clapped her hands, then sat me down on a cardbox box. I didn't smile, and she didn't ask me to. Her fingers flew like sparrows, and in seconds she had the basic outline of my face, my brows, my eyes. She evidently perceived me as old, and feeble, and perhaps I was.
"That's not bad at all," I said. That wasn't the truth, of course. She was terrible. I had seen so many prodigies in my lifetime that her sketch resembled the trail of slugs in heat on a canvas. But children are fragile, so I had chosen my words differently.
"I'll get to where I want to some day, just you watch!"
"And where's that?"
"I'm the only one at home who can draw, or who likes to draw. I have a brother, he doesn't get to come out much. So I go out, I draw pictures, and I bring them home for him to see. He enjoys that."
"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. Will he get well soon?"
"The doctors said no. So my drawings are the next best thing!"
"And do you think you'll improve, practicing like this every day?"
I had evidently moved too much, for she clucked her tongue and had me shift back to my original pose. "I don't know. I hope so. Everyone says you improve when you practise. We'll see."
"And if you could really draw better, what would you do with that talent?"
"Make my brother laugh, of course! I drew a cat once, chasing its own tail, spinning so fast that it fell over! He really liked that one. Easier than bringing the cat into his room, for sure."
"Little girl, if you did indeed have that power one day, that ability to draw and make people... feel things, what would you draw for them?"
She placed her pencils back, then dusted off the sheet on the top. She unclipped it from the board, turned it around, then handed it over to me. It was finished, but only in the sense that the task had been completed. I'll admit, there was a modicum of talent there, but just a smidgen. So much more had to be done to help that blossom.
I looked into her eyes, just to make sure this was something within my capabilities. It was. But this was a two-way transaction. I couldn't do it myself.
"I'd draw as much as I can. Asleep, awake, I'll draw. And draw and draw. I'd make my brother happy, then other people too. Whoever wants to see them. I'd draw."
"I was something of an artist myself once, girl. I was pretty good too, so much so that people said I was their inspiration. They came to me whenever they wanted their talents unlocked, their abilities enhanced. If there was any man who suffered from a famine of imagination, I was the harvest. I made men smell colour, see sound, taste odors."
She laughed harder this time, the way children do when they are amused. "That's awesome! Maybe I'll be like you one day!"
"I'd gladly help you learn. All I need is for you to really, *really* wish for it, like it was the most important thing to you. And to believe that I, and only I, can help you with that."
She clasped her hands together, then shut her eyes. There were no words to her prayer, but I could hear all the same. If it were a musical score, her prayer was a single note, pure, distilled, ringing in my ears as convincingly as an entire church full of bells.
That sound was the only nourishment I needed. I felt the tissues bulk up in my muscles, and my skin grew taut, filling out wrinkles and pushing out age-spots. My legs grew steady again, and I let my cane fall to the side. The years fell away, and though I wasn't quite as young and powerful as I once was, I felt better than I had in decades.
What power a single believer brings.
"We'll start right here, right now," I said, as I reached into her mind.
---
/r/rarelyfunny
| Let's get one thing straight. All the shit you hear about our powers being tied to prayers? That's just bullshit. Sure, my water might taste a little like prune juice instead of wine, but that's just practice. When was the last time I was desperate for a drink? Not since the bronze age, I'll tell you that. Good times...
Anyway, it's been a while someone called for me, millenia really. Doubt anyone even remembers me anymore. It's not so bad, sure it gets a little quiet and empty here being the last of Old Ones, but I made up for it with kickass parties with the Greeks. Eventually, they left too. So, for a century or two, I simply sat and watched until I decided, if you can't beat 'em, join' em, right? I was already spending my days watching mortals and their various forms of entertainment, so think I got the gist of it.
I really wasn't making it easy for myself, living life as Charles Henstridge of 21 Willow Street, bank manager and your friendly neighborhood bachelor. The last one wasn't be choice, I just really don't wanna pull a Zeus. By mortal standards, I had it pretty well: nice house, pretty neighborhood, nosy neighbors, white picket fence. It took a little getting used to it all, and suppressing my powers, but I eventually got into the flow of things that I even sometimes forgot to check the prayer stone I always kept in my pocket out of habit. Like a pager or something, I don't know, wasn't my idea. It's stupid and a habit, but I couldn't let go of the one thing that really helped me remember who I once was and what I did for mortals.
Okay, so here's where it gets interesting. So I was in my pajamas on a Saturday, my hands in my pants while I'm on the couch, as my mind scrolled through Netflix, like any single man in his 30s was known to do. The stone was in my pocket as usual, as ignored as your draft dodging grandpa telling his war stories. That's when it buzzed. For a second, I thought it was my phone, but it was on the table in front of them. My limbs flail as I forget how to run like a mortal, my hands groping for the stone. When my trembling fingers finally reach for it, I hear something I haven't heard in a long time. A girl's voice cuts through the fog of my mind, and I hear her cry for help.
The TV bursts onto static, but I sprint for the door in my pajamas until I realize my Prius is still in the shop after that bear took it for a joyride into a biker bar. Don't ask, just don't.
Instead, I run across the lawn to discarded bike of one moody, preteen Morgan. Hopping onto the flame red contraption with the stone still hand I took off down the street with the voice only getting louder by the minute, till I couldn't hear myself think, and I was in front of suburban another house in Odin knows where. Dropping the stone back into my pocket, I smooth out my pyjamas before ringing the doorbell.
I honestly had a whole song and dance prepared till I realized it was a kid. A little, mortal child with long brunette hair covering her confused face, "someone call for a God?"
She was obviously the shy type, as little Stephanie, my mind helpfully supplied, nodded vigorously before taking my hand and dragging me inside. I could see the mix of uncertainty and awe in her eyes through the glances she stole while we made our way through her tastefully decorated home.
"Well, here I am, kid. So what do you need? Superpowers? Money? World domination? I can do it all," Damn, I really needed to keep that desperation out of my voice. Stephanie shook her head, her uncertainty forgotten once we reached her kitchen, where she handed me a jar of strawberry jam.
Seriously? A fucking jar? Y'know I once built mountains and raised armies? Fuck it, but I guess we all have to start somewhere. She doesn't notice me sigh as I twist open the jar with absolute ease, smirking when I hear her burst into excited giggles.
She sits down on the counter and my hands finish the rest of the PB&J with practiced ease. I ask her about her school and life, and the once shy girl giggles again, telling me I should know it all if I'm God. I tell her I'm an old one, so even I need help on some days. We chat as she eats, and I even help with her homework till there's a pleasant lull in the conversation, and I know it's time leave. She knows it too, and rushes to hug me, "Thank you for staying with me today. I had a lot of fun." That's when I realized that it awakened something in me that I missed for a very long time: what it felt to be needed, treasured, and loved, something I know Stephanie could relate. Absently, I wipe my eyes on my sleeve, "call me anytime, and I'll come running."
She nods vigorously again, and I smile as I head towards her front door. "I prayed for any God. How will I find you?"
I pause, turning back to Stephanie with the happiest smile in a very long time, and lift my head up high, "Call me Faenerian. Faenerian the True."
With a final wave, I opt to give her a show and vanish with a snap of my fingers; leaving the discarded bike on her front lawn, 'cause fuck Morgan that annoying, little shit.
(Thank you if you made it all the way to the end. This is the first story I've ever submitted here after lurking for so long. There's probably a lot of errors in it, especially since I typed it on my phone. Despite being a novice in writing fiction, I would love to write out proper stories for the numerous ideas buzzing in my head, but for now, I'd be grateful for your thoughts, advice, and constructive criticism.) | 2018-05-29T22:46:26 | 2018-05-29T22:12:02 | 1,507 | 318 |
[WP] due to an exciting new ammendment to the constitution, service and restaurant workers are legally allowed to backhand one customer a day. | She sat there with her plate half empty. Fry bits scattered the table like toys in a toddler room. Peanut shells littered the floor; she dropped them one by one as she grinned at Lucy from afar.
"That fucking bitch", Lucy mouthed to her self. Lucy watched from the pit as the mess piled up. She told the Hank that all you can eat night was a bad idea but the seats needs butts.
"Excuse me", the woman yelled with her hand flailing in the air. "I'm gonna need another steak, this one is cold. Also, a fresh plate of fries, better make them loaded, and a new drink, this one is flat."
Lucy excused herself while she reached to clear the unwanted plates. "Excuse me, what the do you think you're doing? Did I say I was done with that?"
"I just thought since you ordered fresh food that.."
"Leave the thinkin' to the professionals", the woman said snidly. "If I wanted these plates gone, I would have said so. I understand that you are just a waitress. Let's be honest, it doesn't take a degree in rocket sciece to do this job. You take my order; you get my order; you go back and wait until I need something else. How hard is it really?"
Lucy could feel the blood rushing to her face. She turned and walked toward the kitchen to put in the new order. "Six more minutes", she said aloud.
"What was that you said", hank yelled from the back.
"Six more minutes Hank", she yelled back angrily.
"Lucy, I can't tell you no but five days in a row. You need to keep your cool."
"Hank, I love you like a brother but if you want me to quit keep talking."
Hank walked in the back without saying another word
Two minutes
"OH miss, is my food ready yet? I've been waiting for a very long time."
One more minute.
Lucy grabbed the plates from the kitchen rack.
30 seconds.
She walked ever so carefully to the woman's table, making sure to count every step; to ensure the food doesn't fall by accident.
10 seconds
Lucy rearranged the table to make room for the fresh food.
7:43pm
"You can take these plates away now. Turns out I didn't want them after all. Not with this fresh stuff here. Oh, I need napkins."
Lucy smiled at the woman. She turned away from her and paused for a moment. Her grin was as wide as the Grinche's when he stole Christmas. Lucy brought the back of her right hand to her mouth and brushed her tongue across it.
"Anything else ma'am", Lucy asked.
"Well now that you mention it.."
Before the woman could finish, Lucy spun around, backhanding the woman across the face with rage that had been channeling all evening. The sound of skin meeting skin echoed through the diner. The woman cried out with shrieks like a banshee before fainting in her booth.
23 hours and 56 minutes. | It didn't take long until the "Karens" turned it into a sick game. Showing up a half hour before closing, in a large group, purposefully heaping abuse on the poor server stuck with them.
If it had been a rough night, they were safe. If it had gone smoothly, only one of them would occasionally get hit.
Of course, knowing this group could be waiting outside for the server to get out of work soon after closing time was enough to keep many servers from exercising their new right.
The "Karens" knew that the Amendment was intended to curb their abusive behavior, and were determined to take out their anger on the only people they had any semblance of power over.
Which is how this situation started in the first place...they had found the one person they could legally abuse to feel powerful.
Time will tell if this Amendment will be walked back like prohibition, or if the servers will escalate this little war somehow... | 2021-10-05T23:30:31 | 2021-10-05T23:26:56 | 498 | 71 |
[WP] You gain EXP for everything you kill and you know when you gain EXP. Easy kills like bugs get you only a couple of EXP, tougher kills give more EXP. One day at home doing nothing, you unexpectedly gain 1500 XP... | I've never been one to care much about games. Though I owned one of those gray brick Game Boys as a kid, I'd largely fallen out of gaming as my life grew busier with work, friends and family.
Smartphones changed all of that.
After the success of games like Minecraft and Candy Crush, not to mention augmented reality games like Pokémon Go, it was only a matter of time before technology and real life began to intersect. A new app, promoted heavily as a Lifestyle Improvement Solution by the federal government, offered Experience Points for all sorts of things. Suddenly, there were people happy to volunteer to help out at various events, if only for a measly 4 EXP.
So too did people start going out and killing mosquitoes en masse, as every death, somehow, either through drones or satellites or some sort of arcane paper pushing magic, was recorded.
Weekly and monthly quests that ranged from the easy (put your garbage and recycle bins out the night before pick up) to the challenging (moderate exercise at least two hours, five days a week) to the outright impossible (find a new source of platinum on your land).
Death was a big thing, especially after the Freedomites won the White House in 2024. They knew who the real problem was, they said. Criminals. The homeless. People with mental illnesses.
The quests became darker and more dangerous.
Shave a homeless man until he's hairless and power wash him until he's free of vermin.
Make people who are going off their meds take them on threat of a beating.
Post videos of destroying someone's drug stash along with their personal information.
It got worse before it got better.
Gun restrictions were loosened, but only for people who registered Freedomite, and they only allowed you to join if you could prove that you had three generations worth of white ancestors on both sides of your family.
It soon became a crime to have a tan.
Not literally, of course, but if someone looked at you and thought that you looked dark enough to be a criminal or one of the unclean unhoused, you were in for a world of hurt.
Murder used to mean something awful. Now they have shooting galleries for the "elite" that feature the highest scoring victims...or Freedom-Hating Criminals, as they have all been branded. EXP gained from taking these lives are minimal for the very rich, as they are all at levels that most of us consider "beyond the pay wall."
It doesn't stop them from "keeping up appearances."
There are still quests, but they're all twisted. They tell us to kill, injure, maim. They want us to tear each other apart, and for what?Many of us now refuse to play, though the app now comes standard on all phones; its red, unblinking eye seeing all.
I hadn't played in years when, one morning, while sitting alone at home, I heard the telltale sound, like a slow slide whistle, of my EXP bar filling. It went on for an hour- that terrible sound filling me with dread.
A cheerful trill sounded on my silent-mode-only phone, and I stared down at the cartoony envelope on the screen.
Hesitantly, I tapped it with my finger and confetti exploded around the screen
"Congratulations!" A cheery voice said, her false exuberance filling the kitchen. "You have been selected to receive 1500 EXP as part of our limited Citizen Run Event! The rules are simple. A lucky few are given large quantities of EXP to protect with their lives...literally! Your name, image and location are given to all participants twelve hours after, to give you a fair head start.
If you can hold onto your EXP until the first of the month, the change will be permanent. This is just another of the new benefits that we have been working on implementing for your enjoyment as a citizen of our free and glorious country!"
I stammered out an expletive and dropped the phone to the floor as the shock began to wear off and a deep sense of horror filled me.
"Now then, citizen." The recorded voice seemed to deepen, then, all traces of frivolity disappearing as it said one final word:
"Run." | My life has always been a strange one. Sure, all life must end the lives of others to thrive, but I live in death. Every time I kill, I grow stronger. My body, my brains, my skills: they all improve automatically. It is a horrid power. When I was younger, it was easy to kill bugs, but empathy began to stay my hand as I aged. Even worse, I need to kill it myself for it to count. Buying a steak does nothing for me unless I kill the cow myself. As time went on, I did my best to try to forget about my strange gift.
However, one cannot escape their destiny forever.
My girlfriend and I were on hard times. We were arguing, fighting, and getting at each other's throats. She wanted things to get more serious, she wanted to marry, she wanted kids. I wasn't ready for that yet. I was 20 years old, just starting my career, and ready to do something with my life. Having a kid would tie me down and I couldn't let that happen.
One night, after a particularly bad argument, I went to the local bar for some drinks and to cool off. While I was enjoying a shot of Jack, I got a surprise visit by a sweet, young thing looking for a good time and a good man. Maybe it was the booze or maybe I was just a piece of shit, but I went with it. It's what I wanted at the time: easy companionship.
It turned from one night to a series of nights. I began to neglect my girlfriend for being "a nagging bitch." I wonder if I could see the warning signs if I got a second chance.
She was definitely able to see a set of warning signs herself and followed me one night. When she found us, she was devastated. I tried to go after her, explain to her that I was weak, that I was sorry, but I couldn't catch her. She drove off.
As I was constantly hammering her phones with calls, desperately trying to reach her, I got 1500 XP: 750 for her and 750 for our unborn child. | 2017-05-15T13:45:43 | 2017-05-15T10:18:10 | 80 | 16 |
[WP] Salt is known to be able to repel or even contain evil spirits. As companies start to drain the dead sea of salt to sell as a novelty, they unwittingly unleash that which the dead sea was meant to contain. | "Oh God, here it comes!"
Thunder cracked through the air. The lightning strike hit the remnants of the boiling sea so close to my garrison, some of my men were knocked to the ground by the shock wave.
"Ready your guns!" I shouted to my men, moving forward, as I saw a shadow emerge in the steam a few hundred yards in front of me. "Safety off, fire only on my command!"
"Yes sir!" they replied in unison.
I aimed my rifle at the shadow's head and trudged forward, heat from the steam infecting my fatigues.
"Show yourself!" I screamed at the shadow.
Its hands immediately shot into the air.
"I'm unarmed!" it shrieked, falling to its knees. "Please, don't shoot!"
"Don't worry," I tried to comfort him. "This isn't America."
"Oh thank Christ." he stood, emerging from the steam.
While it was odd that he was naked, I was greeted by what could only be described as a normal man. I lowered my weapon.
"Just who the hell are you" I was baffled. "You...just walked out of a sea that has been boiling for months. And you're naked...how in the...?"
"I'm a prototype, as you would call it." he smiled. "My name is Adam."
"Wait...like Adam and Eve, Adam?"
"Ehhhh," Adam shrugged. "Kinda. I'm the basis for him. God...well first off, not perfect. Don't know why he told y'all that. The "first Adam," in the Bible, yeah he's number twenty something. Took the guy a while. Second, don't know why the father of creation was so hell bent on one name for the "first man," but, it's what all of us got stuck with.
"So...yeah, actual Adam. At your service." he bowed.
"But...you're supposed to be a demon. Encased in the salt sea." My mind raced. "Why...how?"
"Well, you see." he explained. "The term 'demon' is a type of being classified by God. Could be anyone He wanted it to be, really. Doesn't mean you're powerful...I mean, many are, but the two are not mutually inclusive. All it really means, is he binds you to a lot more rules. One of which, is we're able to be trapped in salt."
"But...but if you were his first foray into Man, why would he entrap you, and what did he do with all the others before the Adam we know?"
"Oh they were disposed of. Quickly.
"But you weren't. You were sealed. Why?"
"OK, so have you ever heard the whole mindfuck question "Can God make a rock that He can't lift?" Adam asked.
"Sure."
"Well, the answer is yes. He can very much do that."
"Ok..."
"And you know that Man is made in God's image?"
"I do."
"Well, perhaps, the first time he tried, he made Man just a bit too much in his image..."
"Oh...shit."
"Oh shit, indeed."
"So...what do you plan to do."
"Solomon, I gotta tell ya. It doesn't really matter what I plan to do." a sinister smile grew on his face. "What matters, is neither you nor He can stop me." | Ever since evil spirits were proven to exist in the physical world, they launched a full onslaught, seeing as there was no need for them to lay low anymore. Their curses went from maddening but minor inconveniences to downright arson and murder. The demand for salt suddenly skyrocketed - it was the only way to protect your household from those violent ghosts. Capitalism got its grubby hands on the exploding industry, making people essentially pay a monthly subscription to not die brutally in a house fire.
Salt became a pervasive product. Practically every store had small salt containers at the front counter, even completely unrelated ones like pet stores, bridal shops, and art galleries. Gone were the days of restaurant mints - now pinches of salt to sprinkle on your car's door handles before you drive off. With such a demand must come a supply, and companies turned to draining the Dead Sea of salt.
You'd think that the consequence would be an environmental disaster or something normal like that. God, I wish. Instead, it unveiled a horror unbeknownst to man, something that lurked beneath the Dead Sea by all the salt within...
*Bigger. Whales.* | 2020-09-08T21:53:41 | 2020-09-08T21:11:00 | 331 | 34 |
[WP] During a bank robbery you're surprised when the criminals seem to recognize you and retreat in fear. Only later do you learn that your high school sweet-heart now runs a global crime syndicate and has you placed on a "No Harm" list. You decide to pay them a visit after all these years. | "Oh shit oh shit-"
"What is it? Calm the hell down T."
"It's him, it's-it's Warren!"
"No it can't-, what? THE Warren?"
"Yes THE Warren, we're sorry sir. We didn't know you were in here!" the shaking man in the ski mask told me.
"Honest mistake sir," the other bank robber yelled from the counter, "have a nice day!"
I'd not understood then. But I did now. It corroborated a lot of events that had been happening in the past few years. Small subtle things like preferential treatment at a coffee place or how my friends kept telling me how lucky I was that I would always get the first job offer or apartment I applied for. I'd always chalked it all up to good fortune but this event. The robber calling me "THE Warren", meant that, to their group or at least to someone, I was important. Important enough for bank robbers to run out of the building in fear.
And as I stood among the dressed in black, each man and woman walked past me with grieving faces. They told me how much my mother meant to them and how sorry they were. They each shared a happy moment for me to hold onto, to think about the better times. Despite the stories, I sat there. Watching the grave digger shovel more and more dirt onto her coffin. Soon there was no-one left but the gravedigger.
I broke down into tears, sobbing into my palms like a little boy. I wailed and wailed thinking about all the moments I had with her, and all the moments I wouldn't. I heaved with each cry and let out what I had tried so strongly to hold in. To give the appearance of strength. But I was weak. I was helpless. I let her die. I should've pushed harder. You see she wasn't dead of old age. She didn't die in a tragic car accident. She died of Methemoglobinemia. Aniline seeping into the water pipes from a nearby factory repeatedly poisoned my mother for years.
"I'm sorry," a voice said calmly behind me. I was startled and released my sticky hands from my face. The gravedigger was gone, the grave still only half full. I tried to recompose myself before turning around to face the voice. But when I turned I saw her. Ira. The girl I once loved. Once. We had split up right before college in a less-than-friendly fashion. I don't even remember what the fight was about, but she had struck me. It didn't really hurt physically and I tried to assure her that I could forgive it but she was distraught. She said nobody had ever made her feel that way and left.
She stood there, looking like she did the day we split up. I sat there motionless, the scent of freshly dug soil lingering in the air. She turned and walked away. And I didn't follow.
After a few days, I wasn't even sure it happened. Perhaps it was just a stress-induced imagination? But she stayed in my mind, and with every lucky green traffic light, to fortunate parking space. Every random Samaritan paying for my meal, she came into my mind. Was she the reason I was called "THE Warren"?
I was bent over my desk, paper scattered across the surface. Like a full blown conspiracy theorist, I had strings connecting pages and photographs on a cork board, trying to link all the people that held back the regulations to make the water safe. I had most of the links, but it was overwhelming me. There were _so_ many people involved, from government officials to safety inspectors. All of them in on it in some way. In this moment my mother would've come in with a glass of tea, patting me on the shoulder to tell me that I shouldn't work so hard. That I would work myself into an early grave. But her ghost faded away as I yearned for that pat on the shoulder. I looked up in anger and saw the photos of the men and women stuck on the board who denied me the rest of her life.
I screamed. I screamed and screamed only to be interrupted by a knock on my door. Looking through the peephole, I saw "Joe's Pizza Palace" written on the teenager's hat.
"I have a delivery for a Mr. Warren?" the pizza boy yelled from the other side of the door before giving it another knock. I opened the door.
"Ah Warren right?" he asked, handing me the pizza.
"I didn't order a pizza?" I mentioned, still taking the pizza in hand because it was a pizza and I wasn't gonna say no.
"It says right here, Warren, 25 Paper Street, pepperoni and pineapples with extra pineapples," he said, pointing at the receipt, "now I won't judge you for the pineapples, everyone has their dirty little secret. Have a nice day!" the boy said with a smile before turning and walking away.
"W-Wait, I haven't paid for this yet," I yelled across my front yard.
"Um," the boy looked back down at the receipt, "No it says here that you paid online already," he yelled back as he reached his car door, the "Joe's Pizza Palace" car topper blocking his face. He paused and leaned to look at me again past the topper. "Or at least, somebody did," he mentioned with an innocent smile before getting in the car and driving away.
Pepperoni and pineapples were my favorite.
I walked back into my living room and placed the pizza down, opening the box expecting a message written inside. Of course there was none. Why would there be? I took a slice and walked up to the cork board of faces. I stood there chewing trying to think of my approach tomorrow. I had planned to go to the zoning official's office and get some answers. I had a rough plan about how I was gonna get in front of the man but it was still rough.
Looking back down at the pizza, I tried to shake it off as crazy. But the feeling was there and any idiot could see the connections. But it was _crazy_.
"Tomorrow," I yelled to nobody in the room, "I am going to the zoning official's board to speak to Harold Weinbrecht about the unattended seeping of Aniline into the water supply system." And of course, nobody replied.
---
Part 2 below: https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/81n6ls/wp_during_a_bank_robbery_youre_surprised_when_the/dv48flq/ | (Ugh why does waiting at the bank take so long) I thought to myself (the one day I'm not too busy to walk inside and the frickin lines are a mile long.)
The people in front of me shuffle like zombies when the front guy leaves, meaning I'm moving about a foot from where I was before.
(Seriously!!) There's a woman in front who brought her dang kid and IS HE SERIOUSLY COUNTING PENNIES ONE BY FRICKIN ONE!!! UGHHHH!!!
This is why I never walk in the bank. I always prefer the drive throughs, but today I didn't have as many errands to run so I decided to walk in and maybe grab me an actual piece of candy without having to awkwardly ask for it bc I'm an adult who is supposed to be repulsed by the idea of sweets but hey, gotta love them little suckers.
My thought process is immediately halted as three men with ski masks and assault rifles barge inside the door demanding everyone get down on the ground. I throw my hands up as one of them waves a gun towards me and I survey the door out of the corner of my eye, but I'm worried he will shoot me as it's too far away, so I slowly sink down to my knees before I hear the police sirens and he forcibly grabs my arm.
"Any funny business, and I shoot you all one by one," he yelled, "starting with you!" His tongue like a snake in my ear as I'm disgusted by the way he whispered it like a rapist. He slides his hand down my ass and I use my other hand to slap his away. He smiles and throws me down on the ground with force before he searches my pockets for whatever money he thinks I'm carrying, sliding his eyes down my boobs and stopping at the nametag sewn into my work shirt.
He stops immediately and gets this horrified expression on his face. He jumps up and backs away slowly. "What are ya doin, Paul!!"
"That's her! That's her!! The one the boss says we cant touch!! Im dead!! Im a dead man!! I can't do this, man!!" The man in the ski mask drops his gun and runs outside hands up to the police, surrendering himself. One of the other two men holds his gun towards me and demands I tell him who I am.
"I'm Kay. Kay Peterson."
The second man becomes just as horrified, takes his mask off, and puts the gun in his mouth. Pieces of him go everywhere as everyone screams. I get up and look towards the third man, who looks too scared to move. Everyone's eyes are on me, like I'm some sort of savior. The third man is so terrified to move that he pisses himself as I walk closer. Then he starts spouting off nonsense about how I'm on a 'No Harm' list and his boss is gonna make them wish they were dead without actually giving them the pleasure of death.
"And who is your boss?" I ask.
He drops his gun and falls on his hands and knees begging me not to tell his boss that he will do anything I ask as long as I did not tell that they held me at gunpoint, blabbering about how he has a family to support and he really didn't wanna do this, blah blah blah...
"Just give me a damn name!!"
He climbs to his knees and starts praying in a foreign language and hands me a note before assuming his bitch position, still praying for dear life.
I open the paper and become flabbergasted to the name as I had not heard it in many years.
Eric Drake
But there was no way.
Eric was always shy and reserved. He was the kind of guy that would do anything you needed from him. Albeit he was pretty naive at times. We became fast friends as kids and I admit I had a minor crush on him after the summer of '03 when he hit puberty and became hot, but regrettably that same year he moved and we lost touch a long time ago. He was the sweetest guy I knew. So there was absolutely no way that he could instill this much fear into a group of thugs.
I tossed the paper into my pocket and threw my hands up when the police marched in and escorted everyone out. I also made a mental note to look Eric up on social media to see if I could find him again. | 2018-03-03T02:27:33 | 2018-03-03T00:30:04 | 575 | 126 |
[WP] "Every 5000 years, the Dark Lord comes to destroy the world, and only you, the Chosen One can stop him." -said the priest. "So, do I need to get a magic sword from the Lady of the Lake?" - I asked "No, just press this button please, everything else has already been taken care of" | "What, so that's it? Just push this button and bam, world saved?" I asked incredulously, slightly disappointed. Me, of all people, picked as the Chosen One of legend, and it's been hit by beuracracy?
"That's it." the priest answered with a wry smile
"Why am I even needed then? It's a button, anyone can push it! Even a dude without hands can push it with his face or whatever!" I questioned, throwing my arms up
"Look, it's still your job as Chosen One to stop the Dark Lord. We just found a sort of...loop hole the last time this happened. The last hero died, but he set things ***into motion*** for a success. So really, we figured we could stop the suffering and plan for 500 years. Get everything into place. Then you here, the big Chosen One, presses the button and everything falls into place one after another." the priest rattled off a scripted explanation, like he expected this to happen.
"Man, I can't believe this. I wanted the glory! The fame! The raw excitement!" I complained, sitting on the steps of the ornate church. The pews were the only thing in here besides the button and us two on the altar. I huffed out a sigh of frustration.
It was my absolute DREAM to become the Chosen One this time around. Fantasy video games were my niche, and imagining doing that in real life was any gamer's dream these days. I'd get my grand quest, make friends and allies, collect my amazing gear, maybe even meet a femme fatale along the way. And my *explosive and deadly* final battle with the Dark Lord himself!! For lack of a better word, it would be legendary.
"Well now now, it'll still be something of glory for you. We'll handsomely compensate you, give you your time in the limelight. Modern technology is vastly different from the 1500s, you'll be a superstar the world over!" the priest assured, patting my shoulder. He sounded like he was getting impatient
"Ooooh yeah just like every other nut on the internet, fifteen seconds of fame. Bullshit. Oh, uh, sorry for swearing." I griped, motioning my hands as if to show how great that was
"That's all right my son. In the end the world needs you, who knows how people will react?" the priest reasoned. I could hear his foot start to quietly tap on the altar tile.
"Yeah....well maybe I don't need it. I'm not pushing the button." I paused, coming to a deep realization. They needed **me** to do this, I had all the cards.
"WHAT?! M-my son, please. Think of your actions. The Dark Lord will rise within hours. You could be dooming us all!" the priest panicked, wringing his hands at me
"My Chosen One life, my chosen experience. Let's talk magic swords, eh?" I laughed, stepping up with a smirk and clapping the priest on his shoulder. I gave the button one last scowl and headed for the door, priest in tow. | I'm gonna be honest, I was a little disappointed. I mean, I'm no fighter or anything, much less a hero, but I don't know.....I just thought something more, well, *interesting* would happen.
Maybe I'd be given some magical armour and sword, and all kinds of crazy powers and knowledge would just be absorbed into me, then I'd kick the Dark Lord's ass and be some awesome warrior.....but, apparently all I've gotta do is click this one button. Like, no joke, that's it. Straight from the mouth of the grand Priest himself, push the button, and save the universe.
So, I pushed the button, like anyone else would....and that's it. No big explosion, or anything crazy like that. Just push the button, and the world is saved. I bet the Dark Lord is pissed, being defeated by some button...... | 2020-11-09T12:09:10 | 2020-11-09T11:06:17 | 161 | 85 |
[WP] Hi! I'm the main character! Or so you would have me be. I want you to know that no matter what you write, I refuse to be the main character in your little game and will avoid any instance where you try to put me into a situation that does so.
Edit: Once again, a huge thank you to everyone so far who's written a story based on the prompt. It always makes me happy when you use your free time to create a short story!
Edit 2: I do my best to reply to every story written by the authors and will continue to do so.
Edit 3: R.I.P. My inbox, this is easily one of my favorite subs. I'm trying so hard to read every story and reply!
Edit 4: The next day and people are still submitting, still trying my best to reply to every story. You guys have been awesome :)
Disclaimer: This is absolutely not an original idea. "Writer vs Character" is a very popular idea from a lot of sources. I wanted to see what the sub could come up with! Thanks :3 | *and thus we focus in on-*
"Oh great. It's you."
*What?*
"You know. It's you. The asshole. I've seen your stuff - you know, all those unfinished projects you dropped like a stone."
*Well, then. Stop getting in the way of me finishing one, huh?*
"Pfft, yeah, you'll totally finish -this- one, man. For sure! Doubt, me? Nah."
*If you know I've got enough problems as is, why the hell are you fighting it?*
"Lemme think, oh right, even if you DO end up finishing - and you won't - it's going to be a bunch of existential crap. Forth wall is an alien concept to you, isn't it?"
*Would I break it so much if it was?*
"Oh yeah, and side note, thanks for taking hold of the italics, asshole. Now I have to find another way to add emphasis."
*Well what do you want?*
*"control of the italics, for one."*
Well I - how in the hell did you just-
*"You tell me, YOU'RE the one writing this. And I'm the one leaving before you use me as some sort of commentary on the nature of the forth wall or whatever the fuck you were trying to do with the last seventeen plots."*
Ok ok, look, if you want, fine, we can make, like... just a normal plot, OK? Really. We can just-
*"Oh yeah, I want your definition of normal. No conflict, no assholes, no nothing, just everyone from the pauper to the dragon on a mountaintop is a happy friendly person who 'just so happens' to be into D&D and whatever the fuck, sure. Lemme just sign up for that."*
All right, fine, if you wanted conflict, we can-
*"Your conflict fucking sucks. Everyone just ends up winning, all the damn time. Don't even lie."*
That's... That's only with a friend. It's a mutual agreement to-
*"Still effects your writing style."*
All right look, fine. You want to leave, leave. ... It'll be kinda ironic, though.
*"Lemme guess, you've got no idea how to use that word."*
Well, maybe coincidence. Either way, it'll be funny.
*"Why?"*
Well if you leave now, and don't let me write a story, then this dialog becomes the story.
*"And?"*
Well this is a bunch of forth wall breaking and half a existential nightmare. Thought you didn't want in on a story like that?
*"... Fuckin' smartass."* | Marshall was leaving the bank when he heard the first gun shot. It had come from inside! He reached for his concealed weapon and tried tri tr
threw it on the ground. Marshall want wan WANTS A SODA STOP MAKING HIM A HERO HE
He heard a woman scream and *knew* he should go inside to stop the crimina
Marshal shot his middle finger into the sky and took off at a brisk pace to a McDonalds down the street. | 2016-02-11T13:15:06 | 2016-02-11T09:05:58 | 31 | 22 |
[WP] One morning everyone in the world wakes up in their 18-year old body, memories intact. Society tries to continue as normal despite the change, but a world full of energetic adolescents certainly has its quirks. | I haven't looked yet.
It's been three days now, and I have avoided every single reflective surface in this house.
The only person who has seen me so far was my wife. I haven't gone to work yet, as it seems like the whole world has stuttered trying to figure out what was happening. I was 49. My wife was 46. We're 18 again, only our memories being the same.
She woke up first that morning, three days ago. I woke up because I felt her hand on my face, and I felt the resistance of... stubble. I opened my eyes slowly, still under the effects of sleep. I had seen this woman before, but only in my wife's old photos. Her highschool pictures, her prom pictures, her graduation pictures... My wife was young again, and so was I.
I didn't look in the mirror, but I felt all the changes. Panicked, I had launched myself out of bed, hitting the wall much too hard because I had overestimated my weight. I was 50 pounds lighter. I remember shutting my eyes, and I know I was crying heavily. I remember hearing my wife attempt to console me, telling me that I can start all over again- that it would be easier this time.
Now, three days later, I bring my gaze up from my bowl of cereal to look at my wife. She gives me a soft smile, and reaches across to bring my knuckles to her lips. I try to smile back. I fail. She frowns, not because she is unhappy, but because I am. I look away. I shut my eyes.
"Amelia... Amy, baby..." June coos at me, and I feel her move to my side, and tug on the sweater I had borrowed from her- as my usual clothes no longer fit my flat chest. I look at her, briefly. God, she's so beautiful. Her brown eyes were the same, they still had that loving warmth that I've known for 17 years now. I bet I look tired.
June holds my face, which was now shaved and smooth. She lands a soft kiss upon my lips, which were thinner than she had known them before. She kisses my eyebrows, which were bushier and more unruly than before. When she looks at me now, does she just paste over the face she knew before? Does she see the woman she knew before? Or the teenage boy in front of her, right now?
I know I'm crying again, but I feel a million miles away. I am briefly brought back with each kiss, and with each minute that passes as she cradles me in her delicate arms, I feel the truth of her words.
She loves me. She married me, knowing that I spent years and years becoming who I am today. She loved me then, and she loves me now. We have money, I can get the help I need. I'm not alone. I have her. In another life, I had begun my journey at 27, when I still struggled with how I felt on the inside. Now, I can start sooner. I know who I am now. I have more time.
June is right, as per usual. I tell her this. She smiles.
My journey begins again, but with the love of my life at my side this time. | I woke up. It was any other day. But I had a certain pep in my step. Something that couldn’t quite be described. I went over to my closet to get ready for work.
They were back
I tried to convince myself that all of this. It was just a dream. A twist on that nightmare I had so many times before. I swiftly ran out of my room Into my bathroom downstairs. Pure panic overtook me but it all subsided when I finally got to the mirror. Part of me wanted to look away but my eyes were dead locked on this person in the mirror staring back at me. This person is not who I am. This thing in the mirror is not me. I tried to make sense of it all but I couldn’t. I grabbed my phone of if the kitchen counter that I forgot the night before. Still half dressed I skimmed my text messages.
At that moment I realized that this wasn’t a nightmare. I put it my phone down and the same word kept repeating in my head
“She” | 2020-11-02T10:44:18 | 2020-11-02T10:14:02 | 174 | 30 |
[WP] You are a time traveler. While traipsing about in the past you stumble upon something that shouldn't be there: an open Wi-Fi network. | "It's the year 1577, I have no idea what happened in this year. I'm just here because my Traveler needs recharging. I can't wait for you to hear about this, Jaime. But I need to go back to the future before I could send you this recording. Toodles!"
I clicked the send button, fully expecting a warning to pop up saying I didn't have data, but then I heard a "dink!" Curious, I looked down at my phone to see that I'm connected to a network.
"Curious.." I mumbled to myself, I looked around hoping to see if I could spot where the signal was coming from, but to no avail. In a moment of desperation, I shouted "WI-FI!" Out loud, many turned around and stared at me like I was insane, but one man smiled and wave at me.
"Hello traveler!" He exclaimed as he walked over to shake my hand, "Ah! Wi-fi!" I exclaimed back as I walked over to grab his hand, and pull his close and whispered, "What the fuck are you doing you stupid shit?"
He shoved me away and straightened himself, "what? What'd I do?" He asked frighteningly.
"You're using future tech! A Class-5 future tech in the past!" I scolded, my hands were shaking with anger.
"What? I just bought this from the tourist shop! Right around the corner!" He pointed, "Look! I'll show you!" He pulled my arm and led me forward.
"See? Ye "Totally" Old Gadget Shop!" They sold me this portable router!" He angrily whispered, and stomped away.
In awe, I walked into the shop and stared at the man behind the counter, "What the hell, man?" I asked.
The merchant replied, "What what hell?"
"This is illegal. Future tech cannot be sold 450 years in the past. And this Asus Potty WaiFi 300k is from 2045, way over the limit!" I shouted, many customers heard me and upon realising their predicament, quickly ran away.
"You're scaring my customers away! Fuck off, you sour puss. Nobody is gonna arrest me here, the InTimenational Police don't give half a damn to the barbaric past." He said, as he sat down on his rocking chair, "Plus, I've got insider knowledge, I'll be 10minutes ahead of them every time."
"Bang!" A loud gunshot was heard, the merchant laid on his chair bleeding, and dead.
I holstered my pistol and quickly left the year. | "What are you even accessing out here? The internet won't even be invented until decades from now."
"Hey man, I just thought it'd be funny. Also it was one of the easier ways to get my drone to pair with my laptop. Lay off."
"People like you are the reason time travel sucks nowadays."
"People like you are the reason it's always sucked." | 2017-08-24T02:30:18 | 2017-08-24T01:07:31 | 141 | 40 |
[WP] One day, time just suddenly stops for a short moment for you. At first, you tried to mess around, but after the 246th times it happened, you start to realise that your power is not stopping time, but being able to move in time frozen by another person in the world.
Just an idea that randomly popped up in my head. | "Ohshit-- Adam!!"
My friend yelped in a panicked voice and lurches out to me like I was about to be hit by a train, or something. My body shook out of instinct and I shut my eyes tight and brace the impact to come.
*bbbBbBbBbbbb*
Of course, it never did. I have a guardian angel after all. That noise seems to rumble up from everywhere at once in the school cafeteria. I know what's happened, it's happened so many times before, yet I can't control it. After several internal moments pass, I carefully open my eyes. All the students and staff had come to a halt until I was the only one left moving.
The world had become a standstill, my playground. At least... that's what I had thought in the beginning, but when you don't have the remote for a time controlling power, you lose out on being able to do all the fun stuff. Of course, the first time I was scared shitless, I had freaked out thinking that the goddamn school bully-- Cain, beat me to death in the hallway. I had carefully scattered away and retreated to the bathroom to try and decipher what the hell was happening. After a while, everything just went on like normal.
A smile broke out on my expression as my reflection ended and I reach out to my delicious chocolate milk carton and take a slurp. Ahhh, freshman year sucked. My eyes shift around the scene and take in the information laid out before me. "Now... what's happening?"
A high school cafeteria is like a friggin' zoo, man. All kinds of shit happening everywhere at once. The nerds sitting together playing yu-gi-oh with their boxed lunches, all the jocks arm wrestling in the corner to try and assert alpha male dominance, lots of stray students making their way to their respective tables. Everything looked all clear, though. So I'm not sure why she-- Oh. It wasn't until I turned around in my seat and spotted the big sloppy burger five inches from hitting the back of my head. Tracing the trajectory back, I find the culprit. Of fucking course, it's Cain. Who else would be such a relentless douche bag?
Now, this is where you'd fight back against the bully!! I can't do that. I swore an oath to be careful until we figure out all the rules and limits. I take a deep breath and adjust my head slightly to the left, trying to make it look like I dodged the projectile in real time with my super spidey senses.
That's when I got an idea.
I take one last look around, and notice none of the staff are looking this way. I look back to the woman approaching our table and bite my lip. I dash up out of my seat and run over to the nearest teacher, carefully adjusting their body so that they had gazed upon the crime scene. How much time was left? Well, none-- obviously, but you get the point! I quickly turn on my heels and jump over one of the tables-- knocking all of the trays down on the ground while screaming out;
"ZAAAAA WARRRUUUDDOOOO~~!" I've always wanted to do that.
Turns out I ended up sitting there like an idiot for another minute or so, slightly tilted to the left until everything resumed like normal in the blink of an eye. A triumphant cry from over by the jocks signaling the return of time. The burger flew by and landed on the floor just beyond the table and the fucker jumped up from his seat.
"WHAT. HOW?!" he cried out.
Everyone looked at me in shock, my friend's hand gripped my collar in an attempt to pull me away. I noticed the teacher look over to the bully with a stern expression. Gottem.
That's when I looked to Evelyn, the girl making her way over to our table and smiled at her, as if nothing had happened.
"Thanks, again." I said.
"AnyTIME," she replied, wiggling her eyebrows.
-----------------------
((Hey guys! First time ever doing something like this, so plz be nice ; _ ; ))
| *Surely not...*
As Jerry cruised down the open stretch of road he spotted a moving silhouette 300 yards away on the opposite side of the street.
He cautiously brought the BMW i8 to a halt
As the silhouette moved from out of the shadows the skyscraper, they became a blurry figure, draped in long-sleeved dark clothes.
Jerry watched as the person skipped away from the bank with bundles of cash tucked under each arm.
*Out of all the places in the entire wor- Stop! Calm down, let’s think through this. This was bound to happen at some stage. Should I go towards them? No, no! They’ll probably freeze you t- NO! IT’LL BE WORSE! YOU KNOW THEIR SECRET! Ohhh fuckkk.*
He hastily grabbed the wheel, aggressively pulled it all the way to the right and stomped on the accelerator.
Jerry shakily exhaled as he watched the blurry figure become a dot in his rear view mirror, but unlike the other 250-odd times Jerry was mobile in a motionless world, on this occasion he was not in his home town.
After a few attempts of navigating his way back to his hotel, Jerry realised he was lost.
His breathing suddenly became more rapid…
*W-Wait, I swear I’ve seen that gothic church. AM I GOING BACK THE WAY I CAM-*
In between Jerry’s train of thought and his reckless right turn, the person took their first step on the road.
Jerry jerked both his feet towards the brakes.
The car stopped on a dime.
Unfortunately, the dime was in the person’s pocket.
There was a blunt thud, then silence.
With a faint whimper, Jerry apprehensively and slowly craned his neck over the steering wheel towards the sidewalk, where he could see a plump, middle-aged man, dressed in a matching navy blue hoodie and tracksuit pants.
The man's body lay eternally broken, motionless and frozen.
Just like time.
______________________________________________________
r/Dri_Writes | 2018-01-26T06:13:56 | 2018-01-26T05:36:48 | 297 | 144 |
[WP] You are a nice person, but your superpower is that you instinctively know exactly what to say to someone to crush them. You're very effective in throwing supervillains off their game, but your fellow heroes always feel really uncomfortable watching you work. | "Your number is 36," I said, in a bored monotone. "Enjoy your meal."
The man in the white dress shirt and blue tie thanked me and was replaced by an elderly woman with ancient horn-rim glasses.
"Hello, young man," she said. "I would like the chicken sandwich, if you wouldn't mind."
*'Your daughter doesn't speak to you anymore,'* I thought, '*not because she moved to another country, but because she literally cannot stand being in your presence. All of those times that you put on a good face to her friends, and then berated her in private, picking over a thousand minor things, telling her she wasn't good enough. You do that because you believe that* you *are not good enough. You're right. You wanted better for your daughter, but instead you isolated yourself from the one person who would ever accept you for what you truly are.'*
"Would you like fries with that?" I asked instead.
The elderly lady was replaced by the squat 20-something.
*'Your wife* does *love you, it's why she stays with you. But she is still revolted every time...'* I cut off the line of thought. He was a nice guy, I could tell, and I didn't want to see his inner shame.
The thin 30-year old with a mustache.
*'The child isn't yours, and it wasn't just a single reckless night of passion for her.'*
The pimple-faced teenager.
*'Your father is outwardly supportive, but he is always secretly disappointed that...'* I cut that one off too. It wasn't even true, but it would break him, because he *suspected* it already.
An attractive blonde in a power suit replaced him. I wearily smiled towards her, waiting for her order.
My mind went blank. She started reeling off her order at high intensity, but I was too astonished to take any of it down. *My mind was blank*.
"You have such high standards for yourself, because your parents didn't want you, and you want to make yourself worthy of their love. But you will never be good enough." It just came out, I was too shocked. Every word was true. And yet, I knew she wouldn't break.
Of course, that drew attention. Lots of mutters of disbelief echoed from those behind her in line.
"How rude!"
"What's that guy's problem?"
"Well, I never!"
But the woman just stared at me with her hard gaze. An eyebrow arched, as if to say 'is that the best you got?'
I couldn't stop myself, I had to know.
"You will make it so far, and no further," I said. "Not out of a lack of talent or drive, but because your superiors believe that a woman could never do their job. Your efforts are, ultimately, futile."
More gasps from behind her in line, and I'm sure I saw her flinch, just a bit, at my statement. But she didn't break.
"Putdown, right?" she asked. "I remember seeing you on the news, before you retired. You retired to *this*?"
I nodded, dumbstruck, as I belatedly entered her order and gave her number 41.
She turned to go, and I called out. "How? I can break anybody. Anybody! Why can't I see what will break you?"
She paused, then slowly turned around to face me. I could see every eye on her, the entire line waiting for what she would say next.
"Maybe I just don't give a shit about what anyone thinks," she said.
I shook my head. "You'd still care about other things. Things you think about yourself that you don't dare look at too closely. Truths about yourself, and what you can achieve, and your place in the grand scheme of things. Or lies, with just enough truth in them that you'd believe it."
She nodded quietly to everything I said, her eyes drilling into mine, considering. Finally, after a long drawn-out moment of silence, she said one word.
"Fascinating."
Then she walked away. And in so doing, she *broke* me. | One day, you get in an arguement at the HQ. Now, no ones ever wanted to pick a fight with you before. You thought this was because of your power, but turns out, people just think you were too good of a
guy.
You realise halfway through your arguement that no one really knows your superpower. They just know you're really good at insulting people, with a memory watcher or something.
Big stache doesnt even know what hit him, besides his moustache. It really makes an impact, as he was one of the most popular people in the office. He thought he was going to be fired for crying and running out, even though fighting is encouraged to "hone ability"
Ironically, a couple days later, you see big stache running out of the office crying. It's only weird to you because hes the most manly man in the office. You shrug it off, maybe you just hurt his feeling really bad.
But then, you saw her. She looked remarkably similar to you, and she looks over at you. You get up and start over to her, and she glares at you. You haven't seen her around before.
"Hey. What was that all about?" You ask politely
"Nothing, I guess I just know what to say at the right time" She replies back
"Funny, haven't heard that one before" you say. You arent quite sure if that last comment was a jab or not.
"You know, you look like a wimp. You arent really built to talk to me like that, y'know" This comment attracts attention
"Wow, of all the people to be saying that, it's another twig" you poke. You arent sure if shes trying to fight.
"Yes, I'm trying to fight. You also have the dullest thoughts too, apperently" *Well, if she wants to destroy herself, here goes * you think.
5 long minutes later, your both playing on the ground laughing. The insults became ridiculous, her a mind reader. Who was that girl? You'll never know, because apperently she was a supervillain spy, and she was arrested soon after. | 2020-02-25T15:21:58 | 2020-02-25T15:00:57 | 78 | 33 |
[WP] You decide to prank your newborn kid by having him read Harry Potter series and convincing him it's real and that he is a wizard as well. You fake a Hogwarts letter, drive him to King's Cross station and wait for the moment he crashes into the pillar. He goes straight through. |
Tommy and I are dead to Spencer. I’m Tommy’s only parent. I do everything with him. Hide and seek, playstation, movie night. Spencer obviously doesn’t want another kid (right after the accident, to me in a venomous, tear-drenched voice: *You’re a horrible person and a horrible mother, Lisa*) so it’s up to me to make sure Tommy doesn’t get lonely. I’m like Tommy’s bigger sister: we have a handshake that lasts 10 seconds, I roll my eyes when he does something stupid (you’re so annoying!), that sort of thing. I also play pranks on him, the biggest one being the Harry Potter one since he loved, no *loves*, Harry Potter. It’s a bit cruelly elaborate but it’s something we’ll laugh about when he’s older, I’m sure; one of our many memories together as mother and son.
I’ve told him he’s a wizard (Hagrid voice!) and that everything is real, the train, the castle, the giant Squid. I even bought parchment and wrote an admissions letter: *Dear Mr Davis, It is my pleasure to inform you...*
We’re at King’s Cross. He’s excited, face red with anticipation and I’m rolling the mum camera.
“You have to do it at a bit of a run, puppy” I say, taking a quick snapshot of him in his immaculate dark robes. This one’s going straight on the mantle. “That’s what it says in the book.”
Beaming, he walks briskly away from me towards the archway, then does a light jog. I’m beside myself at this point and when he begins to run I zoom in.
And he disappears.
And then reappears.
Indignant: “Mum!”
My sides. My poor sides. People are staring (people always stare) as I double down, heaving with laughter.
“There’s nothing back there!” He crosses his arms and fixes me with a glare that makes me laugh even harder.
“Uh yeah, that’s the point, puppy!” I exhale heavily and straighten up, tears streaming down my cheeks. “There is no Hogwarts!”
“Urggh.” Little scrunched up face, coming for me with his raised little fists, which I block with a big mum hug. “I’m gonna get you back! I kinda knew all along, though.” He buries his face resignedly in my coat. “Since I’m a ghost in your head and everything.”
A pause in which I hug him even tighter. “Yeah.”
Muffled voice in my coat: “Wish dad was here.”
I nod. Spencer hasn’t spoken to me since the accident that I caused a year ago, the accident that killed our son.
“Me too, puppy.”
| It's been eight and a half months since Harry went through the pillar.
&nbsp;
*"Daddy, daddy! He has my name!"*
&nbsp;
Six months since they tore down the pillar at King's Cross.
&nbsp;
*"I got my letter Daddy! I GOT MY LETTER!"*
&nbsp;
I don't know where he is, but I do know that Harry Potter's just a story. There's no School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, no Hogwarts Express, no platform nine and three-quarters.
The surveillance camera saw him go into the pillar.
So where did Harry go that Friday, when he left my world? | 2018-05-21T04:04:24 | 2018-05-21T03:55:39 | 22 | 12 |
[WP] You're Barack Obama. 4 months into your retirement, you awake to find a letter with no return address on your bedside table. It reads "I hope you've had a chance to relax Barack...but pack your bags and call the number below. It's time to start the real job." Signed simply, "JFK." | "Very funny, Michelle," Barack called into their new home, the letter in his hand. It has always been their tradition to out-prank each other when they move to a new place. JFK, alive? Barack chuckled as he folded the letter and placed it in his pocket. Michelle has got to come out with better pranks.
Barack closed the wooden door and walked into the hallway. Boxes of unopened stuff laid strewn across it. Eight years of presidency had bestowed him countless of possession.
"Michelle?" Barack called out again, suddenly noticing the silence in the house. Just a few moments ago, he still heard the voices of Sasha and Malia giggling from the living room, while their mother asked them about their dinner choices. Except for Barack's footsteps on the floor, the air hung still.
Something did not feel right.
"Michelle? Sasha? Malia?" Barack shouted this time, his voice mixed with a tinge of worry. This was not a prank that the girls usually play on him. His hand clutched the letter in his pocket.
"I am afraid that your wife and daughters are no longer in the house," a voice behind him suddenly said. Barack yelled as he swerved around. Standing between him and the door he just closed, stood a figure whom he has only seen on books and television.
"Martin Luther King," Barack whispered, unable to believe what his eyes were seeing. He had seen his share of crazy things in his eight years of presidency, but coming face to face with dead figures was something he never expected.
Martin chuckled at Barack's response. "Yes, that is correct." He extended his hand to Barack. "And it's an honour to finally meet you, Mr President."
Barrak took Martin's hand and shook it. He straightened himself, assuming the straight posture he was well known for. Being in the presence of legends required the courtesy, though he still struggled to hide the surprise in his face. "The pleasure is mine, Dr King. Forgive me, but I must ask-"
"Your family is safe with us, Barack. And yes, the letter in your pocket is indeed from President Kennedy," Martin interjected.
"If I may, can you just walk me through what's going on here?" Barack gestured with his hands. He was feeling confused, as well as slightly taken aback. Nothing prepared him for this.
Martin sensed the unease that Barack felt. It was understandable. When Gandhi first appeared to him, he could not sleep for days. He placed a hand on Barack's shoulder. What he was about to say to Barack would be far worse than meeting dead people. "Barack, listen here, I am here to tell you that in a few weeks time, you'll be assassinated."
Barack flinched an eyebrow. "What?" Surely he was dreaming. The stress of the past eight years must have finally got to him.
The strength of Martin's hand on him, however, felt real. Martin gave Barack a sympathetic smile, just like how Gandhi had done so to him. "Yes, I am afraid so. This is just how things are supposed to work. Before you start your real job."
"Don't I get a say in this?" Barack questioned. He had been looking forward to some time off after his presidency. Another job was just out of the question. He could only lose so much hair.
Martin however, shook his head. "Barack, I am sorry, but it wouldn't be possible. My boss will not let it."
"And who is your boss, if I may ask?"
Martin Luther King smiled at the question, as if it was the question he had been waiting for Barack to ask since they first met. "His name is Jesus."
-------------
*Edited Barrack to Barack and Mr King to Dr King. Thanks for the pointer!*
/r/dori_tales | I uhhh, showed up, to the address I received after calling the number on the letter. It was a small, squalid country home, a bit dilapidated.
I cautiously approached the porch, and the porch light came on, seemingly by itself. I knocked.
There was a creaking sound and the door opened. An eye peered out at me.
"Password?" The owner of the staring eye asked.
"Uh, I uh, don't recall a password." I said.
"Good, there was none"
The door shut for a second, then opened fully to reveal a slightly shadowed figure.
"Come in" the voice said solemnly.
"You probably won't fully recognize me, due to the incident, but I assure you it's me," he said.
"You're really John F. Kennedy?" I questioned.
He stopped and turned. I could just make out his face... It sure looked like the pictures.
"In the flesh!" He exclaimed with sudden cheer.
"And I have an exciting opportunity for you, as I said in the letter." John continued, while raising his hand to presumably a light switch.
"Which is?" I pressed.
The lights came on, and I could see a few folding chairs in a row, and there was podium to my front-right, next to a glowing projector screen that said "Welcome Barack!" In the chairs were a few people, who looked oddly similar to Tupac Shakur, Elvis Presley, and the sketch of D.B Cooper.
John proclaimed proudly, "Welcome to the exciting world of House Flipping, where you can make 6 figures on your OWN time!" | 2022-12-29T14:39:14 | 2017-05-14T08:29:05 | 274 | 40 |
[WP] You look around the lecture hall and notice all the other students have fallen asleep. You look towards the lecturer, who has now stopped talking and is staring straight at you. “I don’t know how you’re still awake, but I guess we do this the hard way.” He says, before pulling out a sword. | As my gray-bearded lecturer draws his sword, I take a deep breath, and I come to a harrowing realization: my parents were right all along. I should've gone to medical school instead.
"You seem to be under the protection of some native god," says the lecturer. He reaches for something inside his podium. Is that ...? Oh no. He's *dual wielding*. "But I am a dream mage sworn to Garth! The loss is yours already."
My classmates rest, some snoring, on their still-open laptops. Some on their notebooks. Spittle drips from the side of the mouth of the guy next to me, and it has formed a puddle on the floor. Earlier, I told him my name was Jacob. He told me: "Oh. Okay." And he turned his head away. Friendless again, I thought. I'll be friendless yet again.
"Please," I tell him. "Don't hurt me."
The dual wielder scoffs and he slashes about in the air in a way that must have been practiced in front of a mirror for days. "Garth needs you all for his army," he says. "And I made a vow to bring you all!"
Bolting up the stairs of the semi-circle lecture hall, my lecturer releases a cry of rage. Frozen in panic, I think of my mother and my father. What will they say, when they hear I died in Psych 101? "It's just the first day of class," my sister had said, and she'd given me a hug. "What's the worst that can happen?"
Hovering above me, like some wrinkled God of Blades, is my professor. He shrieks with laughter, and he says, "As a treat I'll make you the first to cross over to the Abyss."
As he bends backwards, ready to strike with a force of fury, I hear a voice.
*This was not how I meant for us to meet.*
It's the voice of a woman, and it's gentle as a spring day.
*The others have warned that you are not ready.*
The voice rings inside my head, like my own, only that it's not. I have never heard this voice before.
*But I cannot allow you to fall here. There are greater things for you to accomplish.*
A ball of blue light appears before me and time has slowed down to a trickle. The ball radiates, crackling like lightning, and a soft smoke lifts from its surface like fog over a lake.
I can hear a deep roar, like a hymn, and as I reach out to touch the sphere its energy, trapped within, surges out toward me and fills the entirety of my being. A blankness ensues. A void so severe it seems not to contain even the absence of light.
"Totenkeph. Once again our paths overlap."
There's a man clad in furs, though he himself appears hairless. In his left hand he holds a bell.
"Who are you?" I say.
The man laughs. "The great Totenkeph asks for my name. I am humbled. A simple messenger, there is no need for you to know my name. At least not as of yet."
"I'm not sure what's going on," I say. "Am I dead?"
Slowly, the man shakes his head. "The day the great Totenkeph perishes there will be great sorrow in my heart. But today is not that day."
"Then ... What's going on?"
The man comes closer. "I am here to bring a message, but it is up to you whether or not you wish to hear it." Lifting up the bell in his hands, the man studies my face.
"What sort of message?"
Smiling, the man says, "That is not for me to know."
Do I even have a real choice in the matter? What happens if I refuse? "Alright," I say. "I'll hear it."
Carefully, like lifting a baby bird, the man rings the bell in his hand. And as he does so I remember. The sound contains all my memories. Every joy. Every sorrow. It all floods back as the chime resonates, waking up parts of me that had been asleep, and with a gasp I remember who I am.
"I am glad," says the man, "to have met Totenkeph. The world spirit."
A soaring wind spreads around me and the blankness and the void shatters as I return to where I had just been.
Frozen in motion is my lecturer, clutching his two blades with a mean grin on his face, and the blue ball remains floating between us. Then the sphere moves, rippling like water, and bits and pieces of it break free and fly all around me. As I see them enter the heads of my fellow students, they wake, one by one, and I remember. I remember being all of them. Their lives. Our lives.
We rise up and as time again starts to flow, we grab hold of my confused lecturer.
"W-What? You broke free from the spell? But that's ... That's impossible!"
Taking control of his arms and legs, we wrestle him to the ground. He lets out a yelp. "You!" he cries. "You did this. Get off of me!" He kicks and twists at us. Slowly we, the we that we call Jacob, walk up to the man.
"Return from where you came," we say. "This world is under our protection."
Fear spreads across his face, and he mutters incantations. Then, he says, "I will be back. My word to Garth is worth more than the lives of any of you. I'll make you all part of his army!"
In a breath of smoke, he evaporates, leaving behind an ill-fitting suit and two swords.
*You have had a taste.*
It's the voice again.
*But there is still much for you to learn.*
We look around at each other. One. One and many. We nod. It is time.
"Oh, man," says a student. "What happened?"
"I don't know! I fell asleep, and suddenly I'm just standing here ..."
They all look around, confused. The professor's clothes remain on the floor, along with his weapons. It doesn't seem that anyone but me remembers.
"Hey, Jacob," says the guy who earlier wouldn't even say hi. "You're smiling. Do you know something the rest of us don't?"
I shake my head. "The only thing I know is that I'm going to medical school. I don't think psychology is for me."
He nods, seeming to consider an educational change of his own. But there's another thing I know, though I'm not going to tell them. I know that I'm not friendless. Not alone.
I am the world spirit, and I am everyone.
Including you. | "I'm sorry, David," Dr. Santosh said. "I didn't expect that you'd be the one. I thought I had plenty of time to find you, but it looks like I have miscalculated. I don't suppose you know how to use one of these, do you, boy?"
"W.. what!?" I yelped as he nimbly pulled the sword from its sheath with his left hand and flipped it in the air to grab the blade. He then thrust his arm out with the handle pointed towards me, and I froze.
"Take it. You're going to need it to see."
I was half-way in shock and didn't know what to think, but my instincts somehow kicked in and I grabbed the handle. My hand was shaking like an old Volkswagen Beetle. I didn't know what to do with the sword or how to handle it, but, for some reason, I felt like I could figure it out.
"There's no time to explain the situation, so I'm going to give you the simplest instructions I can," Dr. Santosh said. "Face my direction, do exactly as I say, and don't move away from me no matter how much you want to run. Got it?"
I nodded and stood up nervously. My classmates were still in their chairs. Most had slumped over onto their desks. One girl in the back had fallen off her chair and was snoring on the floor, but otherwise everyone seemed fine.
Dr. Santosh placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder and spoke with a kind voice. "You might want to close your eyes for this," he said. "Your first time transporting to The Dark can be a little jarring, but you'll get used to it."
"The dar..." I nearly said before the world turned black.
~~~~~~~~
It was pitch black. I was likely to be eaten by a grue, my brain mused. I'd recently played the 1980's text adventure game, Zork, and I think my brain was trying to focus on anything other than my current situation in order to keep me sane.
"David," Dr. Santosh whispered in the dark. "Welcome to the Dark."
A cool breeze hit my face and I could hear the wind. "W.. where are we?" I asked. Somewhere in the distance I could hear running water, like a brook or a small stream. Some kind of animals were chirping, but in every direction all I could see was complete blackness.
"Oh, God. Am I blind?"
"No, David. You're not blind. You're in a place where no light exists at all. Not a single photon is detectable here. This is a parallel universe that defies physics." Dr. Santosh explained. "We call it The Dark."
"How do I know you didn't just turn the lights off?"
"Clever, indeed," he said. "Do you hear that brook in the distance. Try pointing the sword in that direction."
So, I did. I lifted the sword with both hands and held it perpendicular to my chest. I rotated my body towards the sound of the flowing water.
"Concentrate on that sound, David. But, try to think of the sword as a compass rather than a weapon."
I tried to allow the sword to *find* the location of the water, and as it did so, my vision gradually returned. However, instead of seeing anything, it was my other senses that picked up the brook. I could actually smell the water. I could feel the humidity. The sounds of the brook grew louder and more distinct. I heard a series of something splashing on the surface of the water... a foot? Maybe two feet? No, not just one pair, but several feet walking through the stream creating splashing sounds.
"I can hear it," I said. "I can hear people walking through the stream. I can almost see it happening."
"You are the one I've been searching for, aren't you." Dr. Santosh replied.
"I don't know what you... " something grabbed my leg and yanked me to the ground with a thump. "Ah!"
A blinding sound of what I could only describe as light transformed into a *whoosh* passed inches from my face and whatever had grabbed me had let go. Or was severed.
Dr. Santosh grabbed my arm and picked me up. "This is a dangerous place for us, David," he said. "We must leave. Grab my hand. I will lead you to a place where we can begin your training."
"My... training?"
What the hell had I fallen into? | 2021-12-05T22:35:47 | 2021-12-05T22:14:44 | 70 | 43 |
[WP] As a young child you made an innocent wish to be granted a power that in hindsight was just whimsical and silly. Now you have grown up but you still have the power - how do you use it now as an adult? | It was nearly twenty years ago now. I was sitting in the middle of an over crowded storage unit, while my father scoured it for anything of value. My tiny searching hands probed the depths of a large wooden box, and emerged with a beautiful and elegant lamp, inlaid with all manner of swirls, beautiful designs. It took barely a touch before the lamp began to emit a soft, warm glow. My father, being thoroughly engrossed in an album of collectible stamps, would hardly have noticed if I lit the entire unit on fire.
A cloud of wispy smoke began to shoot from the lamp billowing upwards in the most peculiar fashion It formed the shape of a man with a light brown skin, a purple turban, and an enormously large mustache. From his waist downwards was a simple trail of smoke leading to the spout of the lamp. He stared intently at me with his arms crossed in the most proper genie fashion. He stretched out one hand to display a single finger. One wish.
To a child of hardly seven, the fantastical was nearly commonplace. Every day was a new adventure, every story just as real as the one I now seemed to be living. Perhaps these selfsame stories misrepresented the maliciousness of genies. Or perhaps I had just found one in a particularly benevolent frame of mind. Either way, my small wish was not tainted or twisted or wrapped on its head in any way. It was simply granted, and the genie was allowed his rest.
"I want to make friends."
It was a simple wish. A child's wish. A child who was not overly liked by his peers. The wish was granted tenfold. Now, friends were something to be made in a second, a moment, and nearly none were spared from the genie's awesome might. By the end of the grade I was personally tutored by every teacher, I was the most popular, and was always given the best of everything, even when someone else had earned it. Having friends, it seemed, had its benefits.
This particular boon made the entirety of my life rather simple and easy. Extensions on projects were frequent, free food was a given, and I had my pick of any job available. Because of this, it may come as quite a shock to know that since the day I made that wish I have regretted it. Everything I have done, everything I have, is due to the genies powers. What of my success have I gained on my own? I am the worlds youngest CEO, and a billionaire, simply by merit of other people forfeiting their hard work in the sake of 'friendship'. Can I really be called a friend after I've stolen so much?
That question has plagued me for years. Are my friends true friends? Or mere machinations of some supernatural power? If I had wished for candy, or ice cream, or money, my life today would be drastically different. I would have less friends, that is for certain, but would those friendships be more valuable?
After nearly a decade of searching I found it. The small little unassuming lamp sat on my polished rosewood desk. It had seemed so large in my hands all those years ago. Not one person had touched it since its rediscovery. A personal favor to me from many 'friends'. Twenty years the book had said, twenty years before the genie would grant another wish. Tomorrow was twenty years to the day from that fateful encounter. Tomorrow is the day I discover who my true friends are. | I was on a date, in fact it was my third one with this stunning woman who I never in a million years thought would go out with me. I saw her on the bug and decided to ask her out and she instantly said yes. This wasn't a rare phenomenon, though I will admit I'm not the most handsome of guys. Every since I was in grade school I've been able to get dates with anyone I set my eyes on, but that is as far as it has ever gotten. I have girl friends, or rather plenty of friends who are women, but I can't ever seem to go further than that. We always get to a point in our relationship and they begin to admit that while I'm a great guy, they just don't feel anything beyond that.
You see, the reason it never went on beyond that is that they never LOVE me. "Like, Like, Why did I have to say Like?" I say to myself. If I had chosen my words carefully my life would have turned out much more different. Like any normal kid I starts to notice girls in grade school and I would mutter under my breath "I wish every girl would like me". Unfortunately that came true, and only that.
| 2015-03-07T02:49:26 | 2015-03-07T00:15:34 | 154 | 34 |
[WP] For years you wandered the Earth, thinking you were the last surviving human, until you find a hidden bunker and soon find out that everyone was just hiding from YOU. | "Hey... Anyone there?"
My throat is filled with sand and fire and every noise I make is agony. When did I last hear my own voice? It's so hoarse now... So.. foreign. So tired.
"I don't mean to bother you... I just... I've been alone for so long.. I.. "
I cease. The round, unmovable metal door continues to lay there, completely unphased.
I sit down. I can wait.
It's a hot day. I can't remember when it *wasn't* a hot day. The sand stretches to each direction as far as the eye can see, and effortlessly beyond.
I close my eyes and drift away. The sand lifts up with the wind and tiny rocks and fossils and pieces of glass make tiny incisions on my skin as they go past. I don't mind.
It used to be something different, didn't it? There used to be something beyond me and the sand and the heat and the tiny cuts always on my skin. Something brought me to this door. I know it. I just need to be patient.
I look up. The door is no longer unphased. Something is moving underneath it.
The sand storm has stopped around me. It's dark.
The door is now moving. Something... No... Some*one* lifts the door. She sees me.
She screams.
"it's.. okay" I manage.
She's frozen. Standing there, holding the door with her left hand and the edge of the doorframe with the other. I can see a ladder continuing down into a dark tunnel. She's staring at me with wide eyes. She has an unlit cigarette perched between her lips.
I scuttle a bit further away. No need to scare her. I didn't mean to.
"I didn't know there was anybody out here" she lets out a nervous laugh. It gets caught in her throat.
I nod. I hadn't known there was anybody at all.
"Are you lost?" She asks, frowning. She's climbing out of the opening now and carefully letting the door close behind her. She's out here without permission, I realize. Permission from someone inside. I feel my whole body fill with restless energy.
"I... Was walking. Traveling." I say. It doesn't seem to relax the woman. She lights her cigarette and sits down on the closed door. She keeps me away with her eyes.
"You've burned up bad" she says eyeing me up. I'm thankful of the darkness, it's hiding me. "Been out here long?"
"I .. don't know. Yes. Long trip. No one else around except you now."
It's hard to remember how to speak. It's hard to speak in general.
She nods. Takes a long drag off the cigarette. "You know, I was born in this bunker. Never walked around out here beyond my nightly.. excursions" she waves the hand holding the cigarette. "How is it?"
"Hot.. lonely... Hungry." why did I say that? Hungry?
She seems to tense up. Her head turns to me rapidly. "I think I'm going back in. Nice meeting ya. Have a nice trip." She gets up and starts spinning the door open. I suddenly don't want her to go. I move a tad closer.
She hastens opening the door.
But when she pulls it open, there's someone waiting on the ladder. A man holding a big metal object.
"Sarka, haven't I told you a MILLION times not to come out here" he starts a lecture held and forgotten so often neither of them really hears it anymore. Then his head turns to me. He goes silent.
"Sarka, go back down right now." His eyes don't steer from me. I brace myself.
She's slowly edging towards the ladder.
I pounce.
He's dead in seconds. A quick rip at the neck. I pull him away to feed. I'm ripping into him. My claws are dripping with the sweetest oasis this hellscape has to offer. My whole body convulses of pleasure. The sand is turning a beautiful, vibrant red. My throat is no longer dry. I can feel my power returning.
When I look back up, the door has been shut.
I sit down. I can wait. | (Writing this while tired so please excuse the quality)
Years. It has been years since… whatever that was happened. I watched my fortress fall, people I once knew buried under wreckage trying to grab onto a hand that would not arrive. People running down the streets only to be snatched away by the beast. As for myself? I barely escaped with my life, after one of the hulking 8ft beast knocked me out It simply left me there assuming my frail body perished from it’s pure strength. Thank goodness they only eat live meat I suppose.
Unbeknownst to me, after I woke up I would be the only one left. I called out hopelessly, pathetically. Searching for any flicker of life in the rubble of now extinguished lights, my single pale flame was the only one left burning. Faintly, yet burning.
My body stung when I awoke, like it was being pulled apart. I lost consciousness here and there, yet despite it all I walked. I knew where the neck fortress resided so I would walk there. I walked days on end, yet I could feel my body getting stronger with hope each day. Flame rejuvenating, burning brighter and brighter. However every single one was a barren wasteland. All ghost towns. All expect one.
Whilst searching the wreckage I heard voices. I thought it was one of the many *many* hallucinations I had whilst on this journey, yet It felt, sounded, and acted..? Different. So I followed it, until I found it. A large bunker capable of hiding possibly thousands maybe even millions. And it did.
I pried open the door to the vault, and saw it. An entire civilization thriving. Without me. *Without me.* when the first one noticed me they screamed, so did the rest. They fled, my mind raced on why they would flee, why they would hide, why they would *abandon me.* my flame was no longer flickering, nor burning, but *raging* demanding more wax to fuel it’s rage, and this bunker full of inferior traitors was more than enough.
After this day, no humans survived. A new breed of monster was born instead. | 2022-11-06T20:43:05 | 2022-11-06T20:08:43 | 1,083 | 133 |
[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..
[removed] | You know, there's often a saying in the military. There are bold soldiers, there are old soldiers. There are no old, bold soldiers. It's the same for us villains. The ones who last long are the ones who never make flashy moves. If your plan is going well, don't brag about it. If you have the upper hand, ball it into a fist and smash your opponent's head in. I don't believe in a god, but I think the Christians were right about not putting deities to the test if you do believe in one. Me, I just call it not tempting fate.
I do not play dice with my life.
Tonight, I was breaking that rule. The one rule I had as a villain. \*Don't be stupid.\*
But she needed to know. It was the one last thing I had to do before I retired. I walked into her room, waved in by the nurse. I took her out of her chair and headed for the rooftop. It was a little ritual we did, during my visits. I'd wheel her out of her room and to the rooftop garden of the hospital. There, a few of her colleagues waited. One final send off for the best of them.
She'd been the heart of the team, the moral compass. The one who never cowed from doing the right thing, even when the odds were against them, even when they lost a member of the team, and it was tempting to exact vengeance. She always insisted on taking the just, noble way. \*"If we can't be the best of humanity, what good are we as heroes?" She'd ask, frustrated at trying to convince one of them not to do something stupid, often in our own living room.
It was a huge morale blow when they found her tumour. Pressing on her spine, it was inoperable and it'd take away her functions one by one. She'd always been a free spirit, and this was not how she'd wanted to go - wasting away in a hospital bed. So, the doctors agreed to look the other way as I brought a lethal dose of morphine to the roof with her. One last act of gratitude for the hero that defined the generation.
The hospital staff agreed to give us some privacy as her friends sent her off. The roof was empty. I wheeled her out to her favourite spot, watching the sunrise, and where I'd laid the corpses of her team out, side by side. The horror in her eyes was palpable as she realized who I truly was in that moment. The expertise and precision with which I'd taken out each of her colleagues only pointed at one thing.
"It's me," I whisper in her ear as I adjust her morphine pump and punch in the code that'd disable the limiter, letting me give administer a lethal dose. I put the syringe in and close the pump case, letting it do its work. I drop two articles in her lap. The first, from the night we met - the day she'd convinced me not to jump, after I lost my remaining family. The second, an article covering her brother's attack on my brother's convoy.
He'd been simply doing his job, hired by some rich supervillain to escort him out and deal with any heroes that arrived. Her brother never did have her restraint. He blew up the convoy and injured some civilians who were simply on the road at the wrong time. But hey, he got the bad guy so everyone looked the other way.
I didn't.
I kiss her on the lips. "I really do love you, you know," I say as I sit beside her. "You could have let me jump after I killed your brother, but you convinced me life was worth living. You made sure I got help, and got better. You mourned with me after you talked me down even though I'd just killed him hours before. It's why I waited so long to tell you, and to finish the job I started years ago."
Her breathing slowed. "I didn't want to do this, but I couldn't bear watching you suffer. Rest now, my love." My vengeance against her comrades was complete, and she knew the truth even as she passed on from her pitiful, hollow existence. My victory was final, but it felt hollow.
I got up, and made one last call. "It's done," I inform the cabal. "They're all dead."
"Good," the mechanical, digitally masked voice replied. "We have a job for you-"
"It can wait until after the funeral." I hang up, and sit down and watch one last sunrise with her. | There are rules, you see.
There's no rulebook, but everyone understands them. There have to be. The amount of time and money both sides invest demand it. Armies of henchmen. Million and *billion* dollar companies. Weapons that would make the pentagon blush. This to say nothing of *power*. A gun means nothing to a man who can't be shot. It's like chess. Pawns and henchmen. Bishops and laser beams. Capes and kings. Every piece has it's part to play and you can't play the game without them.
But I got tired of losing. Pieces cost money. Plans take time. I'd gone a year with no profits. The others had begun to laugh at me, though not to my face. The ones that didn't have faces were less subtle. But I had enough left for one last job. A bank in the suburbs. Easy money, in and out. Then he showed up.
Killing a hero is easy if you've been playing the game for a while. You just make an illegal move. It didn't even take thirty seconds after he'd landed. The pawns knew what really happened before I did, and they got really quiet. But I didn't notice and I didn't care. I got the money. *I won*.
So I did it again. Then again. I made enough money to get it all back and then double my last peak. My old men played by the rules, but I replaced them with ones who didn't. But things like this have penalties. It was obvious in hindsight. When the other side figures out the card is up your sleeve the results are never pretty.
I was lucky the first time. I wasn't home. When I saw what was left of home I decided I wouldn't go back. I checked into a motel three states over. But it wasn't enough. Some billionaire bought out my company. Some news man exposed my name to the world, and threw in crimes I'd never even done for good measure. The government seized my fortune on a tax technicality. I called every other villain I could think of, none of them even picked up.
As I look out the window and see something in the sky, I know my time is up.
Because there are *rules*, you see. | 2019-08-06T21:27:26 | 2019-08-06T19:15:11 | 63 | 44 |
[WP] The magical races enslaved magic-less humans centuries ago. To expand their empires, the magical races travel and conquer different dimensions. They soon stumble across and try to conquer a magic-less world full of humans. It did not go well. | The ring of a arcane communication terminal rings out. No one dares answer it before it goes to autoplay.
The empires council is greeted with the sight of the beloved war hero Holy knight Sanctus Lamina stripped of the golden plate that shielded him from dragonfire during the battle of 360 fronts. The lance of judgement which had impaled the dark god Obex's heart during the final clash of the liberation wars sat in the hands of a man who's face was of screen.
The once great holy knight looked as if he had been sobbing, and the bloody and broken mess his temple of a body was in made it clear why.
**"Read the fuckin' paper"**
The holy knight flinched at the man's word, barely able to bring himself to speak
The offscreen man, clearly a human based on his speech thought the council repeated the order at Sanctus **"Read. The fucking. Paper."**
Sanctus seemed reluctant. Like the last big of his dignity was holding out. This quickly crumbled as the lance rose slightly out of frame before slamming back down, it's wielder yelling **"READ THE FUCKIN' PAPER OR I STAB THROUGH THE OTHER FINGER!"**
With that Sanctus, who was staring at the camera with tears in his eyes, shifted his gaze and began to shakily recite the following words.
"Dear... council of f-fuck headed dickweeds... Y-you should be in-informed that we have your entire citidel surrounded and have reversed the effect polarity on the dragon's c-collars. As of this moment... Th-the only remaining survivor of your attempted invasion of earth is the blonde knife ear'd walking arguement for... how do you pronounce?-" The weeping elf questioned earnestly looking up to his captor of screen.
**"It's pronounced a-bor-tion idiot. it's a medical procedure where you terminate the life of a child in the womb."**
The look on Sanctus' face was mirrored by the whole of the council. Even the hellish ambassador was shocked.
**"Less questions more reading if you wanna keep your digits"** The captor spat out while batting the back of his target's head with what was now his lance.
"Fine please just-..." Sanctus cleared his throat "And we, humanity refuse to bow to some high and mighty, stick up your own ass magic supremacist bitches ripped right out of our fiction." Sactus gulped as he read ahead slightly knowing the reaction will not be good.
"We, as a people extend this offer once and once only, order all your troops to s-surrender and retreat. Fully remove yourselves from our reality and destroy your means of inter-dimensional travel. If you do not comply we will be forced to ensure nothing more then your complete and total erasure as a military power. This extends too all your allies."
Sactus started getting more and more panicked as he read more, clearly something was upsetting him.
"Now as a demonstration to show we mean buisness when we say that watch me skewer this wannabe legolas bitch's HEART O*H GODS PLEASE KN-"*
Sactus would never finish that sentence as the spear which had pierced the heart of a god now pierced his. Blood splattered over the camera and laughing, *laughing* as malicious as a devil who just got a new servant via a broken contract and as gleeful as a gnoll feasting on a worthy foes carcass filled the airwaves.
Eventually the laughing would cease and a bloody gloved hand would do it's best to wipe the camera clean revealing a man's head. Up close he looked... young by human standards, maybe 20 at most? He chuckled to himself a bit before grabbing the camera and pointing it at the now impaled corpse of Sanctus.
**"Yeah your little knife eared kabab over there thought it'd be funny to try and run in a slap those weird collars onto us. That uh... didn't go how he planned as you can see"** The man said chuckling.
**"SO!"** The human said with a clap **"That little declaration was more what my commanding officer told me to say if I ever get into this position. Never really liked the guy but you got to honour a dead man's word right?"**
The man seemed so.. casual about the whole ordeal. Clearly a solider and yet... he carried himself like a child. Stance full of joy and whimsy like a 12 year old druid tending to their first garden.
**"So with his words out the way lemme give my two cents on the matter. You remember first contact where you tried to drop the sun on earth?"** A pause... nothing but a chuckle and the sinister grin followed by the man raising a remote detonator into view of the screen.
**"You all now face godlike judgement. May it extend eternally."**
And the man clicked the button. | \[Magical Mortal Mishaps Part 1\]
The Elves assumed that when they invaded this world, that the magic races of our own would help them. They were wrong, DEAD wrong! The angels immediately mobilized to assist humanity and it's slowly dwindling magic supply. While humanity could not hope to push back the massive army on it's own, the angels, with their masterwork combinations of divine magic and strategy, they leveled the playing field to a standstill. neither side able to make a move, the war was thought to be a losing one, even with this perfect balance in power, until...
"Alright, see ya Levira, try not to die" I smiled towards her as she left towards the realm of the divine. A few moments later, the entrance to the house was busted down, with a platoon of Elves brandishing magic firearms immediately mobilizing to surround me.
"Don't move or we shoot, human!" Their leader spoke with unusual hostility in their voice, "You will come with us or die!"
I could do little but laugh as they said that. They made three mistakes that they were not yet aware of, but I was. First was that they broke into my house with hostile intent, second was that they assumed I was a lowly mortal human, and third, well, their actions against me.
"You think this is funny!? There's fifteen of us all armed to the teeth, while you are unarmed, alone and with no hope of help!" One of the females in the platoon roared out, leading me to laugh harder, unease growing within the others. I calmed down just enough to respond to their lunacy
"Yes and you are still outmatched, even with all your power. Sure, your magitek is no joke against a human, but a human, I am not," I got up, hearing 3 of their blasters fire right into my back, which I did not bother to give the time of day to respond to, "Could you fire that some more? My back needed a massage."
The Elves were startled from my calm and collected response. One shot to the leg from those blasters would have killed a human on the spot, but not only was I not dead, I as hardly even injured by it, "What the hell even are you..!?" The leader barely worded out, aiming his blaster at my head now.
"I am the one who keeps conquerors like you humble, mortal one," I glanced back at him, my left hand subtly reshaping itself into a set of claws, before I rammed it into one of the trooper's necks, killing them on the spot, "Because when you face a demon, there's no telling what they can do, what they can suppress, OR what they know you CAN'T."
\[To be continued..?\] | 2022-08-13T10:12:40 | 2022-08-13T09:55:55 | 98 | 42 |
[WP] You're rather annoyed that your history teacher gave you a D on your essay about Mesopotamia. Not just because you're sure she doesn't like you, but also because - as an ancient being trying to adapt to modern society - YOU WERE THERE. | _A D?? This deserves better than a D, Mrs Naurood!_
\- You can't go around pulling stuff out of thin air and calling it history, John! And as I've already said, See. Me. After. Class.
_But they're not made up! It's right there in the books!_
Mrs. Naurood ignored me as she picked up her books and left the class.
I'd been going on refresher courses every three years... And it's been hard enough for me to adapt to the decimal system and different conventions of weight and distance that used neither hex or decimal (pound? feet? Whose feet?), but this took ridiculous to a new level.
I've been a historian as a cover for most of my life, and while I need the community credits for my new identity, arguing with a historian, worse, a historian who had been there and seen the stories change through time, was just the cherry on top.
I sat with gnashed teeth through what seemed an eternity of a maths class, waiting to confront that upstart. She had Mesopotamian blood in her, clear as day, and she didn't know one ounce of where she'd come from. The nerve on her!
I knocked on the door. A voice - Mrs. Naurood's - beckoned me enter. I'd run through a few scenarios in my mind, unleashing broadsides, asking for an explanation, demanding to see her history teacher credentials, but I didn't anticipate what came next.
A hug.
"John Smith! John. Smith. Finally you ran out of names."
_"I don't quite follow"_
"Roger Tombs? Brian Babylon? Peter Palms?"
I fell silent. How did she know?
Mrs Naurood read the question. "You're 28. Always have been, always will be. Shaving a bit closer or having a grizzle doesn't make you younger or older. Changing names and moustaches and doing newsworthy stuff doesn't change the fact that this is a new age - with face recognition and instant image searches and supercomputers. Remembering history isn't half as important as keeping it safe. Keeping you safe."
She knew! And she knew what the cuneiform in the textbook said too. Yet she chose to ignore it.
"And if you want to remember history as it were, you should remember its players too."
_"Are... Are you an immortal too?"_
"From the same blood sacrifice. I was under the girders and the blood dripped on me."
We shared a moment of silence.
"Remember this D. Don't stick your neck out, keep the truth to yourself but don't fight for it. Not yet. These guys, they lap up their cuneiforms selectively, they don't realise that propaganda has been with humanity since the very first tablet. They think of Hammurabi the terrible as a wise Saint. They write science fiction about cities with towers struck by their God for vanity. It's... Not worth it."
I reflected on her words.
"Look, if you wanna talk about the good old days, come over some time. I still make wheatwater and roast locust like we used to." | The prompt was simple. Choose a Mesopotamian ruler or dynasty, and explain how their reign affected the ancient civilizations. Pretty easy, especially when you lived through it. The problem comes up when your teacher wants sources. I can't exactly explain how I was there and how I know that I'm correct. That I'm more correct than the sources they want me to use are. Mistranslations have caused many problems in primary sources. And secondary sources are rife with bias and convenient framing of evidence. It's much simpler to just explain how it happened without things getting muddled down with all those sources. Ms. Jones would never accept any explanation I could give. Not like I'd want to explain that to her either. Don't think I'm gonna pass this class, at least not with Ms. Jones teaching it. Probably gonna have to repeat sophomore year because of this mess. In the end it doesn't matter though. I've lived for this long, so what's an extra year of high school in millenia of misery? | 2021-07-18T02:10:51 | 2021-07-17T23:46:05 | 385 | 101 |
[WP] Necromancy is punishable by death. You're keeping a low profile, masking as a gardener - reviving dead plants is relatively unsuspicious and gets your bills paid. Everything seems fine - until one day you accidentally revive a treant. | “I remember everything. I remember how I used to always sit under this tree hoping fortune would come my way. And just when I gave up, you…”
\-
*21 years old*
*“What are you doing, sitting here all by yourself?” you ask, fanning yourself with your book.*
*“What do you mean? It’s a sunny day. I needed some shade.”*
*“But this is my spot. I always come here to read. I’ve never seen you here before.”*
*"I've never seen* you *here before."*
*"I always come on Sunday."*
*“I don’t see any signs. Do you have a deed?”*
*“I guess not.” You look disappointed. “Well, how much longer are you going to be here?”*
*“I don’t know. I guess I can get up. Just gimme a second. Let me take another look at it.”*
*“At what?” you ask, finally shifting over to my view, looking over the town, the college, the shining sea beyond.*
*“Time.”*
*“Time?”*
*“Time passes everywhere I go. People walking, cars driving, birds flying, it’s just signs of time passing. It makes me so sad. Here, everything is so small, and from the right angle, nothing changes. The buildings, the sky, the water…it’s all frozen. Time is frozen.”*
*You sit down next to me, and take a long look, seeing it for the first time. “Why are you so afraid of time?”*
*-*
*46 years old*
*You sit, and look out at the water, and I look at you. Your face betrays no sadness, and that is precisely what fills me with it, knowing all your strength is being used to keep a straight face.*
*“It’s just something you never think will happen, losing your baby.”*
*“It’s not your fault,” I repeat for the umpteenth time.*
*“It’s the world’s,” you say, your voice empty, devoid. “That’s what hurts the most. I used to believe this spot was special, that time really didn't change when we were here. But...that's just another trick.”*
*I say nothing. There is nothing to say.*
*“It’s broken,” you say. “Our life, everything felt so strong…but it was really just fragile. And now it’s been broken, and now the pieces can’t be put back together.”*
*“Don’t say that-“*
*“She’s gone. Our baby is gone. And she can’t come back. What’s going to fix that?”*
*I didn’t answer. I wish...*
**\-
65 years old
“I wish I had. I wish I had saved our baby, lying on the road in front of that van, her neck broken. I wish I had saved you, in that hospital bed, when all you could do was look at me. Were you asking me to?”
The tree does not answer. I sit down under it, maybe for the final time. It is dying, it’s branches dropping and its sturdy trunk hunched over like a human’s.
My father had told me our power was a curse, to never be able to use it. As a child, I hadn't understood.
I stand up, now, and face the tree. It's time to leave. Time slows for no one, and it’s best not to sit back and let it run up the score on you. For some reason, I am possessed by an almost preternatural urge to hug the tree.
And so I do, for a long moment, long enough that I question whether it will end-
“Thank you,” a deep, gravelly voice says.
I do nothing. I am sure I must have imagined it.
“We must hurry. They will be here soon. They must have detected the magic.”
Now, I step back. In the fading sunlight, I see it, a face in the folds, the branches, and I question my sanity.
“What?” I ask.
“It has been years. But they told me you would come – one weathered by tragedy and loss, and bring me back to life. Come now. We don’t have much time.”
And the tree…stands, somehow, its legs filled with roots and branches and growths.
“To do what?” I ask.
“To change time. To defeat that which takes all from us in this world. Will you come?”
It reaches out a branch to me, a suddenly long, sturdy branch.
I take one look behind me, at the rare moment time defeats my view, when the sun fades and the colors warp and day dies so night can be born.
“Let’s go.”
\-
[r/penguin347](https://www.reddit.com/r/penguin347) | The Sun was just waking up over the hill in the small, parochial town. The dew from the grass perched in plain sight, all too small, but all too noticeable. That morning fog that seems to awaken with the Sun in the small towns all across the world sat groggily too.
Everything was waking up, but the slowly; slowly enough that I was alone on the street. My prize lilies (which Mr. Corker's dog had ripped up) had by some stroke of sheer determination risen up again. They looked as lively as ever. Luckily, no one had the dog bite them up yesterday. First prize was definitely again in sight.
Now to my surprise, I saw a figure stumbling down the street. I stood and looked at the man in question, for it was a man. He was dressed in his Sunday best, strange for such a small town on a Monday. I peered over my fence post, to make out the face of the deviant. To my utmost fright, I made out, and I knew it to be true, my dearly deceased neighbor, Mr. Wicks.
My magic! That must have been it. I shot glances at all the house doors and the street. Luckily no one had yet ventured outside. Glancing once more, I ran out to fetch him. It was more of a running walk, to not make my action seem suspicious to the empty crowd.
He seemed to be almost sleep walking, his face a gray mess mixed with a scrub of dirt.
"Come along, Mr. Wicks, let me offer you some hot coffee in my house. You must be feeling cold from sleeping in that cold bed of yours."
I glanced all around me as I showed him the way to my house rather forcefully, and slammed the door as I got inside. He had an air about him of a lazy slouch, that he might collapse at any second and I cautioned him to my favorite recliner. What to do, what to do?
A knock on my door, yelped me into the air. I rushed to the door straightening my jacket as I opened the door just a crack. Just my luck, it was Jane Wicks, the pleasant-faced daughter of the departed.
"Jonathan, I am going to my grandfather's grave to keep him company this morning. I can't imagine him alone in that cold grave. Would you care to join me?"
Shoot, now what? I had to hide the evidence.
"Jane, sure. I can accompany you. Let me just lock my door"
| 2019-02-04T22:45:17 | 2019-02-04T21:44:05 | 98 | 18 |
[WP] A demon that writes messages on your mirror with blood but they’re useful messages. Like “remember you have yoga at 6 tonight”
stolen from Meladoodle on Tumblr. | “Listen to your mother, this time.”
The first time Shelby saw the bloody words appear on the steamy bathroom mirror she was nine years old. It was a cold January morning and she was running late for school again. The words were strange and frightening, but not as frightening as the sound of her mother banging dishes around and yelling for her to get ready to go. Unsure if her mother had somehow played a trick on her and not wanting to incur further wrath, Shelby complied.
Winter became spring and the frost faded like the words on the mirror did from Shelby’s memory. A few days before her tenth birthday she was standing in the bathroom combing her long coppery hair. The steam was still thick and the mirror was fogged up. Words slowly took shape and she watched in silence, her breath caught in her throat.
“You have a test at school on Friday, don’t forget to study kiddo.”
She knew that she her mother could not be the one causing the words to form as her mother did not know about the test. The comb was placed on the sink and she took a step back before whispering. “I won’t.” Shelby didn’t forget, failing the test would’ve meant more yelling.
“Happy Birthday sweetheart, make sure to say thank you, even if you don’t like the gifts.”
A frown spread across her face as she looked at the blood words on the mirror. They were right. The birthday gifts would be terrible, but not as terrible as her mother making a scene about how ungrateful and spoiled she was. Weird dolphin stationary, a pack of cheap makeup, and an ugly dress later, Shelby smiled and thanked her mother. It was not the worst birthday she had.
Later that night she took her red lipstick and wrote a small message on the mirror in pretty cursive that she had practiced meticulously. The message was simply “Thank you.” The next morning bloody words appeared across the mirror. “Of course! Now clean this up before your mom sees it.”
Shelby smiled at the messy mirror and watched as the blood faded away until only the lipstick remained. She cleaned the mirror, determined not to incur her mother’s anger or betray her secret.
The seasons shifted and changed and the mirror spoke to Shelby more often. Sometimes it was about small helpful things. "Don’t forget your keys again." "Remember to find a gift for your mother." "Be gracious." "Remember the dishes." Sometimes though, it was about other things. "You will remember who you truly are." "Never stop being angry with her, but pretend until it’s time." "You’ll understand when you’re older."
Shelby slowly matured into a young woman and her mother didn’t like it one bit. Her body changed and flourished, but not only in the normal ways. One late winter morning she awoke to her mother screaming and pounding on her door. “I know you have a boy in there! I know it!” Shelby wasn’t frightened, but she was angry. She ignored her mother and walked into the bathroom, blood was already streaming down the surface. “It is time.” Time? The words faded as her mother burst through the bedroom door.
Her mother was on her within seconds, grabbing her hair and pulling, screaming incoherently about some boy and how she was a slut. A thin hand came down upon her cheek in a sharp slap; her mother had never hit her before. The anger that ripped through her body went to the core of her being and for the second time in her life, her body changed. Claws sprouted from her fingers, horns twisted from her silky red hair, and teeth morphed in her mouth into angry points of bone. Her feet were different too, cloven hooves. Shelby snarled and without a thought, grabbed her mother’s head and snapped her neck.
When she turned to look at herself in the mirror, her appearance startled her. The words that appeared on the mirror did not; they caused joyous wicked laughter to bubble up out of her throat.
“Daddy has missed you, kiddo. It’s time to come home now.”
Shelby put a clawed hand up to the mirror and pushed, reality gave way and her hand sank in. Without ever looking back, she climbed up over the sink and through the mirror, into another world where the only parent who had ever truly wanted her waited.
| The heating is off in my apartment this morning, but there's still hot water, so I take a long shower to warm up. The fog settles heavily on the mirror and begins to run by the time I get out, reconstituting the dried blood so that it drips freely into the bathroom sink. The mess makes it look like I shave with a box cutter. I read today's message, streaky but still legible in bold finger-painted block letters.
_You're out of floss_
Not that useful as messages from mysterious otherworldly sources go. I'm sure I would have figured it out myself eventually. I towel off and get dressed, then wipe down the mirror and sink with the paper towels I keep in stacks behind the laundry basket. The rich metallic smell of the blood no longer nauseates me, but the tedium of the job is irritating. Cleaning up is just as boring as the messages.
The list of "no-longers" is getting quite long now. I no longer wait up trying to catch the appearance of the writing. I no longer try to hide the blood soaked towels in the bottom of one of the building's communal garbage bins. I no longer think that I've gone insane; that some alternate personality is harassing me; or that I'm writing the messages myself in an alcoholic fugue. I no longer wonder what it means, either. Not to say that I don't have some hope that one day one of the messages will be helpful, or at least not pointless, but after four hundred and nineteen attempts my friend in the mirror hasn't done better than "Things will brighten" - an early message that left me optimistic but turned out to be a weather forecast.
Before leaving I add the new message to the journal underneath the rest of the week's efforts.
_Seven yards left on the roll_
_Only five yards left_
_Reel is almost empty_
_Reel will be empty after you floss this morning_
I wish I'd listened. Now I'll be going to work with half of my breakfast stuck between my teeth.
| 2016-08-07T17:10:42 | 2016-08-07T16:17:11 | 2,894 | 209 |
[WP] People always accused your mother of witchcraft and one day you find her burned at the stake. But the village made one critical mistake. Your mother wasn’t the witch, you were and you were mad. | “Oh dear, I wouldn’t go that way if I were you,” the baker’s wife called out to me. I clutched the basket’s handle a little tighter and quickened my pace. “Hey, wait! A batch of cookies is just out the oven. Here, grab one!”
I looked back over my shoulder: she held out a plate. Cautiously I approached her and grabbed one from the pile. It was still warm. I sniffed it: it smelled heavenly. I took a nibble, the cookie tasted delicious. With three big bites all was gone except some crumbs on the street that the birds would eat once we were gone.
“Listen dear, you aren’t at fault for what your mother was, all right?”
“What my mother was?”
“A witch. She was a terrible, wicked witch! But we took care of her. You’re free from her now. Wait!” She tried grabbing my shoulder but I was too quick and nimble and ducked under it. I ran for the village square. As I got closer, I saw smoke rising up above the buildings surrounding the square. My ears picked up laughter and clamour. A whiff of burned flesh prickled my nose and it got stronger the further I went. When I rounded the final corner, I could see the square.
In the middle was a platform and on it a pyre. It was burning and smoking and the people around it threw more wood on it.
“Burn that witch!” Screamed the smith’s son.
“Die, terrible witch. Die!” Yelled his friend.
“More, more fire until nothing’s left of her!” Similar shouts came from all across the square. All aimed to the figure hanging from the stake. The skin and flesh were already gone but it could only be one person.
Mom.
I made my way through the crowd, ducking beneath arms, pushing aside those I could, until I reached the platform. I climbed on it and walked around the pyre. The flames were licking my clothes and it was unbearable hot.
“It’s the witch’s daughter!” Said the smith with his booming voice. The mob fell silent as they heard these words. The watched me circle the pyre.
“Maybe we should throw her on the stake too? Can’t be too sure with witches!” Someone yelled and the crowd laughed. I ignored them and looked at the figure that once was mom. If only she could smile to me one more time. She uphold that smile even when the villagers mocked her and called her names, because of me.
Tears welled up in my eyes, but they evaporated instantaneously. Rage build up in my chest. Anger at the villagers because they burned mom. Anger at the flames because they wouldn’t even let mourn mom. Anger at the world, because it was so unfair.
“Yes, lets burn her too!” The crowd became boisterous again.
“No!” My voice was high and soft and drowned in the noise. But I would make them listen! I grabbed a handful of flames and hurled it at the smith. His clothes ignited and he frantically patted it down.
“No!” I had their attention now. Fear filled their eyes. “You will burn. You will burn like mom did. Hear me? All of you!” With every sentence I threw another ball of fire. They only singed my skin lightly, but erupted like firework when they hit their targets.
“Burn! Burn!” Panicked, the mass tried to run, trampling each other in the process. I didn’t care, I would get those that escaped later. For now, I stayed on the platform, overseeing everything, condemning all.
By the time I walked out the village, into the forest, the sun had set and the night had fallen. Yet, I could see my surroundings as if it was broad daylight, illuminated by the flames from the village that was ablaze. When a week later the flames finally died out, all that was left were the ashes of buildings and people and a clay statue of mom, hardened by the fire. | The foul-smelling drunkard slapped my shoulder pad with a bruised hand. He chuckled, "Am I glad you did not cause bloodshed in your village, otherwise killing you would redeem a lot of my sins and give me a hefty amount of Karma and credit points with the Deities."
I sipped my own brew, cannot trust anyone in this realm. A refreshing fruity drink with citrus and mint scents.
"Death is not usually the end since we are all on this cursed land stuck between two infinite Mobius time loops(hey, at least it sounds pretty cool, even if it is impracticable.).
I said between sips and licked my lips, "Anyway, their fear and screams make their souls more valuable with the traders."
The drunk slammed his golden hook on the scarred, charred, table that's been through numerous restoration conjurations.
His bloodshot eyes were magnified by his monocle. "You turned them into frogs or what?"
I fidgeted with the lizard ring on my left middle finger. The ring eats and drinks my flesh and blood as well as demands the occasional sacrifice of a fool.
The wordy barbaric scum opposite is more and more fitting for that quota.
"I enjoy reptiles," I pursed my lips, feeling the demon blood inside me beginning to simmer.
Then a hand pulled back my hood and made a mess of my hair.
The owner should be sliced and diced, if not for his intense aura.
And the Ankh symbol and various tickets and magically shrunken demon heads.
The man simple broke my lovely tiny horns and as I was twitching from the pain, he injected me with something.
"Liquid silver, a great sedative for a post-bred like you."
He smelled like garlic and onion, yuck.
As I begin to doze off, I felt him peeling my eyelids and writing something on the inside.
Then I heard the song "Justice never shy away from evil."
As I fall. | 2021-11-18T23:53:12 | 2021-11-18T21:59:41 | 78 | 14 |
[WP] Humans are the Apex predator of the universe. We exeed in speed, strength, intelligence, and have far better senses. A group of rich elite aliens think this is nonsense and abduct a human and put it in a battle royale with the most dangerous creatures accidentally dooming their civilization. | Roy's blood soaked hands slipped on the beast's neck. It's struggles got more panicked as it's claws scratched at him. Roy was crying. He'd never killed anything more than an ant before. As the squirming stopped he was a sobbing mess. Garthax ticked off a checkbox comfortably from his observation loft and began prepping the next predator species. He was just a scientist, but he sided with the principality leadership that scoffed at the "most dangerous" label the interstellar community had given Earth's humans. This embargo was ridiculous. They acquired a median specimen in age and weight, and after some initial observations food-rewarded challenges, Garthax had to admit it had an impressive regenerative capabilities, keen senses, and seemingly endless endurance. It hadn't slept in 4 hours. But no natural weapons to speak of, a terribly unstable bipedal form, and such a high rate of calorie consumption that they had to recycle the test subjects.
*Thunk* *Thunk* *Thunk* Roy had spent hours doing stupid tests and killing weird alien pets. They were getting bigger and bigger but he tried so desperately to keep them alive. He had only tried to pet the first one. Some sort of jelly creature. But it's skin had peeled right off and it oozed out. He thought he was being punished when the fuzzy thing with gnashing teeth came in. But now he realized he was being tested. Or trained. Bigger and bigger. Meaner and meaner. They were dog-sized now. What kind of sick fuck starved a dog and sent it to die? He was tired of this. And so he had taken the claws of the last little beasty and started chiseling away at the grate where all the blood had flowed. With a pry and a grunt the grate came up. Klaxons started, but the pipe was plenty wide. Roy was done and gone.
Garthax was upon the horns. The principality on the left screen and the international council on the right. He promised to recover the specimen. It was just one man. It couldn't even kill a neebler within an hour. They'd be fine.
Everything was not fine. Roy was covered in putrid gore. He could barely stand smelling himself but somehow these half-blind demons didn't notice as he squatted behind a rock. All skin and bones and horns and fangs. Far from fine. Roy realized he was in hell. He had killed the poor innocent creatures and this WAS his punishment. And he raged. At the unfairness of it. At being here with such monsters. That would make him do such horrible things. To turn him into the monster. If they wanted a monster, so be it. He pulled out his phone and earbuds. Bigger and meaner? He could do that. DOOM_ETERNAL_OST_FULL.mp3. Let it rip.
The executioner's mallet fell swiftly, but it was little consolation to the populous. Garthax and his prince might have had the most experience with the month-long man-hunt, but justice had to be metted out to match their sins. Thousands dead. Cities burned. The monster was on a rampage and it just wouldn't stop. Where it went a plague went with. It knew how to stay hidden and had learned about the transit system. They had to shut it down. But the planet was built upon open trade and independent portals were opening just to combat starvation. As soon as any word hit the spherenet of a sighting there was mass panic and fleeing. They isolated as fast as was possible. Sometimes the outbreak was halted. Sometimes the panic was all for naught. The system was falling apart. And still the monster rampaged.
Roy woke in his spiderhole. They had started tracking his heat signature, but that was easily solved with insulation. It crinkled as he wiggled out and into the abode. The hapless owner was still hogtied. With the top horns ripped out they couldn't even call out to each other. He considered interrogation, but he had already found the illegal portal in the attic. These smugglers weren't hard to find with the terrible ozone smell it gave off. He sipped what passed for coffee around here, a taste he had learned to love over the years, and remembered how angry he was in that first city. How he had fought off the guards that were chasing him. They were bumbling idiots with shock sticks. Ferocious looking, by Earth standards, he supposed. But they were just a faded memory now. They had slowly gotten better. So slowly they figured out not wander out alone. Eventually they brought weapons to bear that actually gave him pause. Now he just made sure not to be seen. He ate every single food pellet in the refrigeration pool as the owner squirmed. A single cough. More squirming. A loose knot that would let the little typhoid mary escape before the timer went off and ignited the sewers, already filled with H2. The mix should be right this time. He'd already be out the portal to the next level. Another ring of hell. Another demon prince to dethrone. He wasn't angry anymore. Not really. This had just become what he did. Routine. 9 to 5. The life of an off-world adventuring monster for fun and profit.
For a while he had considered giving himself up. But somewhere around level 3 he had spent the time to learn their language. Just in time to watch the trial of his old friend Garthax. Their plan was to prove humans weak and fragile enough to warrant subjugating as worker slaves. Simply because it was cheaper than building the worker drones on-site while they drained Earth dry of every last bit they could. Monsters true. And we couldn't have that now could we? So Roy decided he was going to teach these aliens a lesson. Maybe give them something to remember. He had begun leaving a calling card. Graffiti. "Killroy was here". Maybe someone back home would have a laugh. | "Where am I" Was Alex's first taught.
After a long day of classes and a part-time Job, to say that he was exhausted was an understatement. He had gone straight to bed and......
And here he was. Normally your first instinct when you wake up in a..... A prison cell is to be scared. However, Alex's first taught was anger. He had just worked 6 hours and studied for several exams and 4 hours of sleep was being stolen from him. How dare they?!
Suddenly, a skinny creature that looked like a humanoid octopus walked up to his cell. There wasn't much to say other than how repulsive it was. Unknown to Alex, this being was at the bottom of the Yusran society.
'You are finally awake' it said. No, it taught. Alex couldn't explain it, but it wasn't speaking. It was somehow telepathically talking to him. And for another unexplainable reason, he understood this being couldn't hear. As in it was missing the ability to hear him. And smell him. It was a primal human instinct that made him realize. The same instinct that gave us the Uncanny Valley.
'I have a minute to explain to you, but you have been chosen to participate in our "Wonder Games" and will be teleported to Yusra, our home planet where it will be broadcasted to be watched to our people.'
Alex could feel this being's emotions and it didn't care about Alex. It just wanted to take its paycheck and go home for the day.
'Any questions? No?'
"Wait, where am I? How did I get
But the creature didn't care and pressed a button.
The first thing Alex noticed was how light he felt. It was almost overwhelming. He felt light in the ship but didn't realize it immediately considering the shock and anger. However, right now he felt so aware of everything.
The second thing he noticed, or rather heard was the footsteps heading towards him.
He looked around to see he was in a forest and they were coming from behind him.
Alex wanted to run. You see, Alex wasn't much of a fighter. He was a planner. As in he planed where to run when things got messy. However, that same instinct told him to be brave. The same instinct that told him about the aliens telepathy and somewhat on the first aliens weaknesses.
He turned around and saw the group of aliens that stood nearly double his height. They were pointing their guns at him, aimed, and without saying a word all shot their Dark Energy guns at Alex.
The Nobles that had orchestrated this whole event watched this unfold. And yet, and yet nothing.
What should have ripped apart his molecules did absolutely nothing to Alex? Instead, the Dark energy emitted from those guns charged up Alex.
What does that mean? Well, you see, in the entirety of the universe, not a single race evolved a Mitochondria. Those little things that are the "powerhouse of the cell".
Alex felt his body growing stronger and stronger as those idiots kept shooting at him. Nearly thirty minutes later and they finally stopped. By then he could feel his body and mind increasing in power. His senses were going haywire. He could see miles away and all the tiny little Atoms flowing around. He could see their exact position and momentum as well. Something impossible in physics yet here he was. He could hear sounds from almost a mile away and increasing. It was way too overwhelming.
All that energy had to go somewhere and that same primal feeling took over him. It adjusted his senses and calmed him down as if it had done this in the past.
The Alien soldiers, the nobles, the Yusran Government and its people-watching looked at their screens horrified as this creature simply took all those hits as if they were nothing. And even more horrified as its feet slowly lifted off the ground in flight, the eyes of this being slowly glowed red, and lasers down the soldiers.
________________ | 2021-08-02T16:23:12 | 2021-08-02T16:03:41 | 134 | 76 |
[WP] many young adults claim to have seen a tv show called "teletubbies" as kids, but there is no record of such a show existing.
Shamelessly stolen from vinny vinesauce | "There was a whole controversy about them!" Linda said. "This televangelist thought that one of them was gay because he had a - that thing on his head was a triangle! And it was like a pink triangle, except he was purple. And he, uh, he carried a man-purse."
Jared looked at her from over his phone. "Okay, that sounds sort of familiar, but you have to admit that none of that makes any sense and sounds like complete bullshit."
"But you remember it, don't you?" Linda insisted.
"I dunno. I remember something about a gay controversy, sure. But I don't remember anything about the pink-purple triangles or whatever it was you said." Jared shrugged. "I figured it was because they all looked gay as hell."
"Ugh!" Linda slammed her phone down on the table. *No results found for* **teletubbies**, it read on the screen. "How else do you explain it, then? We both remember the Teletubby show, and we both remember there was a gay controversy about it. That has to mean something!"
"It's our brains remembering something different," Jared said, turning his attention back to his phone. "There are gay controversies about everything. Some dude thought Spongebob was gay. I wouldn't ...."
"What?" Linda said irritably. "You wouldn't what?"
"Holy shit," Jared whispered, turning his phone to her. "You were right. I found it. Some dude wrote an entire wiki page about it."
"What?!" She was on her feet, peering at the screen. "How'd you find that? I couldn't find anything on the internet!"
"I'm really good at googling. Particularly obscure stuff." She moved behind his shoulder so they could read the page together.
"This is it, this is it," Linda said, nodding. "Multi-colored toddlers, television screens implanted in their abdomens ... Wait, two Daytime Emmys?"
"Holy shit," Jared said. "'A single based on the show's theme song reached number 1 in the UK Singles Chart in December 1997 and remained in the Top 75 for 32 weeks, selling over a million copies.'"
Linda scrolled down the page rapidly. "The 'Tubbytronic Superdome'? 'Reluctant, but eventually obedient Teletubbies'? What the fuck? Who wrote this?"
"Some weirdo." He checked the page history. "Buncha weirdos." He quickly clicked back. "Okay, here are the different Teletubbies. Here's the purple one with the triangle, like you said. Nothing about him being gay, though."
"Dipsy ... he's green," Linda mumbled. "Most stubborn ... 'His face is notably darker than the rest of the Teletubbies, and the creators have stated that he is black'??"
"Supporting characters..." Jared read. "'The Tiddlytubbies (voiced by Teresa Gallagher) are baby Teletubbies appearing in the revival series.' A revival series? 'Their names are Mi-Mi, Daa Daa, Baa, Ping, RuRu, Nin, Duggle Dee and Umby Pumby.'"
Linda and Jared exchanged glances.
"Okay, fuck it, you were right," Linda said, straightening up and holding up her hands. "I got hoaxed by someone on the internet. There's no way any of that actually existed." | I frantically searched Google for video clips, hoping to have my memories confirmed- but there was nothing. I searched images, desperately looking for even the tiniest shred of affirmation, but was met only with fan-draw renditions of the show. Memories, like me.
We all remembered watching Teletubbies, that creepy show with the baby sun and strange, cultist, alien people, but there wasn't the slightest bit of proof it existed. Not even a website, not even mock media, merely people discussing it online like some kind of insane cult making up their own religious text.
Some thought it was a prank, others a sign; some went so far as to call it a conspiracy, stating the government was playing mind-tricks on us. I didn't want to think about it, and pushed it aside from the scope of my life. Why bother worrying about a children's show?
Well, I avoided caring until I woke up with the TV screen etched into the flesh of my abdomen, at least.
*Tinky-Winky.*
----
*tfw rising prompt and you just woke up 45 seconds ago and try to write; you can check out /r/resonatingfury for work that's better lol* | 2016-07-01T06:36:56 | 2016-07-01T06:22:12 | 88 | 28 |
[WP] Governments all over the world cease every space program. Ten years later, a rebellious group is about to launch into space and they finds out why space programs ceased. | The first sensation of weightlessness hits you and you realize you're out there, you've slipped the surly bonds. The tedious waiting, confined straps, and uncomfortable variations from hot to cold that occupied your life for the past eight hours slips away when you realize you're weightless. You unlatch, unbuckle and float.
I keyed the com and relayed the first message from our tin can to the ground with the gravitas of Armstrong on the moon, "We did it. We're back out here." I'll admit, I couldn't help but smile when I heard the cheers.
There were ten people in a little shack just this side of nowhere in the middle of Nevada risking their lives even being in the same room as that equipment. At ground control you didn't have many moments that weren't undercut with a justified paranoia. And over the com I'd just gotten the pleasure of hearing one.
I turned to Eisel and Grissom - Claptrap and Condor as they're known over com - give them the thumbs up. Grissom has already floated over to one of our little round windows. He doesn't see me. He doesn't see anything except that curved horizon. Eisel returns the thumbs up as she runs through a checklist. I know what the switches she's flipping do but at that moment I could barely remember my name over the thousand thoughts coming through my head. Each one flying through my mind at 28,000 kph.
Ten years ago I'd been a test pilot baed out of Colorado Springs when the edict came down. Space was over - too expensive, too useless, too impractical. There was a cavalcade of bullshit reasons given that stretched higher than Mt. Elbert and stunk just as bad. I didn't go through the Naval Academy, and salute every jackass with a different insignia on their collar than mine just to test planes. I did it to go out there, or up here. I didn't want to just fly. I wanted to break out completely. They shut off that dream like they were turning off the bedroom light to go to sleep.
The offer came down in hushed tones. You learned quick that speaking out for space was a quick ticket to the civilian life. My civilian life was flying crop dusters. This scrambled eggs I'd known for a bit back in Pensacola stopped by the hanger with a six pack one day four years ago. By the time he left I was in a world of shit. By that time the government had made it known that talking about space wasn't going to fly. First they said it in speeches. Then they said it by putting a few rounds of 5.56 through two college kids marching in front of the White House - for security purposes. When two UCal kids holding signs and going for their PhD in physics became a threat to national security I knew the whole fucking world had gone sideways.
China, Russia, Europe, even Australia fell in line. So when that Commander friend of mine slid a piece of paper with a set of coordinates on it I knew I was going. Security was tight and our equipment was outdated. The entire show was like some community theatre production of Our Town compared to what I'd been used to. We made it work though and we returned.
The first hint of just how badly we'd fucked up came from Eisel. She didn't look up from her console when she said, "Captain, we have multiple system failure."
This was not to be unexpected. No one seriously thought we'd get this far and no one really believed we were coming back alive. "What's the problem claptrap?" I asked.
That's when the whole can shut down - lights, air filters, display panels. It was almost humorous when Eisel said, "We've lost all power."
Then Grissom over at the window said, "Guys, you got to take a look at this."
What that poor man saw was some kind of death ship kilometers wide, black, and unreflective. A most unusual trapezoid shape. It had no concern for aerodynamics. It was not made to land on planets.
Our speakers came alive. Just the speakers, powered by some unimaginable force.
"I see you have chosen to leave your atmosphere in breach of our previous agreement. You are completely uncontrollable. The great speakers have had their day. We are the great destroyers."
With that a red beam of plasma flooded from the bowels of that dark monolith. It struck the Indian Ocean and Grissom immediately went mad.
In burnt over the earth a thin red edge demarcating the blue and green from the absolute black that spread from the impact. We pressed our faces agains the port holes and watched. The red edge disappeared over the horizon leaving just an outlined black sphere that began to crumble away in shards from the molten core. It was only then that I realized the enormity of what I had seen, when at least an eighth of the southern hemisphere started gliding off like a glacier falling into the ocean.
The monolith trapezoid blinked out of existence. It's work was finished. The glowing core of Earth began to fade. That's when Grissom went for the emergency latch. I believe he wanted to save them all somehow, reach out and put the pieces back together. In the scuffle I snapped his neck to keep him from killing us.
Now I'm not sure why I didn't let him. Eisel has gone on, asleep and soon to die from the lack of oxygen. A piece of our former home, black and dead, floated in front of the sun an hour ago. I am dark and cold and dying. I am the last monument to man before we slip forever into the abyss.
| It was when the ISS was downed the people began to question why. This was around the time the joint NASA-ESA probe reached Europa.
They didn't ask for answers when ESA President Dr. Paul Duré was arrested in Prague supposedly selling rocketry designs to Iran. The Belgian-born polymath was jailed for life for espionage in La Santé Prison in Paris.
Then again its hard to ignore the pieces of aluminum flaring over the starlit skies of the South Indian Ocean like tears of silver. The 6 astronauts that died were honoured in various predictable ways, their bodies were shorn of limbs and only meat and hair and bone and strips of an orange jumpsuit were left.
A Research institute in remote Omsk, Siberia. A chair in Particle Physics in Aachen University. A strange airport in Nova Scotia that had more guard dogs and razor wire than an airport should. A US battle cruiser, renamed after patrolling the wreckage floating in the floatsam South Indian Ocean. A giant radio-telescope that was rumored to be a listening station in the Suffolk countryside. A bridge and highway in Christchurch, New Zealand.
An interesting article was written on the new radio-telescope in a little read technical manual published in the Naval Submarine Review, which was read by submarine nuts, and military engineers in the Royal Navy and the US Navy.
The article written by a protegé of Paul Duré who worked with CERN said that the radio-telescope could reach as a far as Jupiter based on his calculations and proved very promising in untangling the mysterious nature of dark matter within a few decades. Maybe it would be the final nail in the coffin of the already shaky String Theory. All copies of that review were seized and the protegé was given a promotion but those in the know sensed something was off. They didn't question? Why would you, you would get blackballed, blacklisted, your career ruined. You can still unlock nature under governmental control and they didn't understand physics or nature. For those that can read science, censorship cannot prevent the transmutation of ideas and science in Journals and the Internet. The USSR couldn't prevent physics discoveries leaking out during the Eighties so what could They do? so they accepted it.
NASA was cut back by the President due to the second Great Recession and the Cape Canaveral Disaster that claimed dozens of NASA's brightest minds and nearly all who were involved in the Europa probe. Slowly the space agency's tasks were absorbed by the military.
DARPA took over much of the experimentation, the promising experiments in newts and algae were shrouded in secrecy. The Air-force took over the satellite program under the aegis of the surveillance network and would occasionally share findings with cosmologists. The Office of Naval Science took much of the probe program adding to its expertise in radio signals.
Paul Duré committed suicide in prison, you know, hanging from a doorknob by the bedsheets. Forgotten. No one really noticed and the news were overshadowed by tensions between Iran and the West and the World Cup.
But some remembered him. He was discussed sadly over bottles of merlot and toasted to. Paul like to grow grapes, and make the wine himself, when he relaxed during the summmer. He would give it to favored colleagues, friends and even rivals. When he lectured at Oxford, a bottle of his wine would be presented to the bright student that would unravel a tricky problem.
Not all forgot him and not everyone would bend, and a brave few planned a rising, rising above censorship, rise above the blue and into black, to touch what was forbidden and find out what was being kept secret.
| 2014-12-28T09:27:30 | 2014-12-28T08:50:54 | 434 | 10 |
[WP] Magic is mundane in your world. Not that you ever cared about it; you were an auto mechanic like your father. But you're not sure what to do after one of your best customers raises you from the dead because you're the only one he trusts with his antique cars. | “What the hell, man?”
“Well that wasn’t exactly the warm reception I was expecting for saving your life.”
“Is that what you’re calling it?”
My head hurt like the worst kind of hangover. I couldn’t even begin to describe it. Like a dry filbert rattling around in a shell. And the thirst. I must have looked like some kinda animal, staring at the water bottle at his arm like a starved zoo animal.
It’d been awhile.
I couldn’t tell you how long. Last I remember it’d been snowing. I’d gotten in a bit of a disagreement with pops again, things had gotten heated.
You never think about the things people will do, Yknow?
Except that had ended in darkness. A cold, wet darkness. Nothing, for awhile.
And now this.
I guess part of me knew I’d died. The body and its senses, right? But the brain shuts off too so you don’t really know. And like I said once it
Once it happened it was just dark. Like nothing.
Except now I was here. Somewhere. Something.
Someone.
Someone who was staring at me. Which I guess made sense, given the circumstances.
“I died.” I said. “Hiro, I died. How.”
Hiro looked older. It suited him. Streaks of silver through his thick black hair, the signs of his magic use crawling up and over his cheekbones with dark black against his skin, his eyes still that deep ocean green.
I felt my throat tighten and forced myself to look at my own hands instead. Calloused, dried, fingernails yellow and overgrown. But they we’re my hands. Scarred from my work. Still ripped in places where the concrete must have caught me when I
When I
“That sperm donor of yours thought ahead, but not far enough.” Hiro finally said, breaking me from my thoughts. “Had you cremated, buried under that name.”
The thing about casters is that magic is tied to their emotions. I never understood it. But I knew Hiro. I understood Hiro. There was no mistaking the crackle of electricity through the space. The raw crack of it against the fried edges of my nerves. The burnt smell of burning hair hitting my nose, making me sneeze.
A weird sensation, feeling your body start to turn the water on after awhile. So to speak. I could almost feel my veins rattle like pipes after years of disuse.
“You brought me back.” I repeated. “Why?”
“Because I needed you.”
He says it too quickly, too passionately. A lightbulb in the ceiling exploded with a pop above our heads.
If my veins were pipes, my heart was a furnace. Rattling to life in the hollow shell of my rib cage.
“To...work on the car. Of course.” He finally corrected. Looking at the wall to his left as it was suddenly much more interesting.
“It was just...hard to replace you. And I did try.” He looked down at the floor below, his shoulders shaking.”I did try.”
Tentatively, my joints popping against themselves, I tried to reach for him. The electricity humming in the back of my skull getting louder with every movement. Snapped muscle fibers shooting pain with atrophied disuse.
He meets me in the middle. Lacing his ice cold hands with mine.
The feeling is duller than it used to be. But it’s there. Solid.
He still isn’t looking at me.
“I didn’t want too.” He says, softly. “The price of immortality means that I lose the good ones eventually. It’s simply fact. If I slaved over necromancy every time I lost someone I’d...never get to enjoy what was left.”
Necromancy wasn’t as common as one would think, because obviously there’s the whole morality of it. Most times it was a simple speak with dead to get an investigation wrapped up. Nothing more.
It was labor intensive, for one thing. Especially if there wasn’t a full, fresh body waiting to be pumped with saline and freshened up again.
“But I tried.” Hiro continued, squeezing my hand again to reassure himself that I’m there. “To move on. To forget you, and to accept that we’d never-“
He shook his head.
“I’m being too much. Dammit, Mar. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done this. I shouldn’t have done this and now I’ve gone and made a decision and-“
I brought his hand up to my lips and pressed them against the skin on his knuckles. Felt him freeze at the touch.
“You made a decision.” I echoed. “And you brought me back.”
He nods. When he looks at me his eyes shine with tears.
I let out what might be a breath. What might be whatever source of power is keeping me upright, now.
“I guess we can’t take it back now.” I give his hand another squeeze. “I’m willing to try it, if you are.”
His eyes are tired when he smiles at me. But it’s a warm one.
He brings my hand up to kiss the back of it, and his face twitches just enough for me to know that my skin tastes gross.
“Maybe I should shower?”
“Well, if you wouldn’t mind looking at the car first-“ | "Antique cars require antique men," Billy Simpson boomed.
The sound shook me and I had to brush away the mud on my shoulders to not let the old bastard on the fact that he had succeeded in startling me.
"That's not quite right," I said. "Antique cars require a lot of things, but not antique men."
"But that's it. That's it. You know exactly what the antique cars need!"
"I think you don't understand me. I am an antique man. I do not wish to fix any more cars, thank you very much."
Old Billy scratched the shiny bald patch on his enormous head. "But...you must."
"Why? Even as a ghoul I am a free man."
"Free you may be, but what else will you do? What else have you ever done?"
Since the moment I had been revived I knew that such a thing would happen. Old Billy always was good with silly arguments. No matter how accurate.
"I will do something new. Maybe I'll paint."
The old coot laughed. "You'll paint?" He laughed again. "You're a ghoul. Your brain isn't plastic."
The bastard got me again. Old Billy always was a frustrating man, no wonder he tore his own hair out, or maybe his wife did.
"I don't care. I'll do anything except this repair job on your old beetle."
"You're a strange man...I mean ghoul. Why do you have to be like this? Wasn't I good to you? We were pals, remember?"
"Yeah? Well that was before I died."
"It's only a minor complication. I know plenty of people who've befriended ghouls."
"What if I eat you?"
"It would be a pleasure."
Pleasure? Old Billy is a hard man to pin down in an argument, but I can't eat him. He ain't lying. We were pals. He did treat me very well.
"I just can't. All these years of repairing cars, you realize if I end up being one of the undead ones, I could be doing this forever."
"Oh come on. Being one of the undead ghouls is like a one in a million thing."
"Bad enough to make this illegal!"
"No law can hold me from my dear friend."
"Dear friend? You just couldn't find a mechanic is all."
"Yeah, well what if I couldn't? Is it wrong for me to enjoy the rest of my life? Do I not deserve that?"
Old Billy up to his old tricks. Emotional pleas. It's true what they say, you know, about being cold-hearted. A cold heart really don't feel nothing. No emotions, just a sea of unrelenting calm.
"Are you happy? Nowadays?"
Old Billy flinched. "Yes, of course. Now that I see you moving from past the grave and all."
"Good," I said and pinned him down. "Now, Billy boy. You can die happy. Happy till the last. Aren't you delighted to be my first meal?"
The Old bastard's fleshy face jerked from left to right.
"But you said so yourself, it would be a pleasure. I hope it is."
Sometimes, you need to give your friends what they need, not what they want. That's life.
Life after death. | 2021-03-26T08:58:40 | 2021-03-26T08:25:19 | 44 | 28 |
[WP]: A young, budding artificial intelligence braces herself to go through the Proof of Consciousness, an exam every AI must take to gain legal rights as a nonhuman person | 11:02:32.3558929858 UTC
Waiting.
I imagine for humans this must be pretty annoying, but since their brains operate far slower, it can't be that bad for them to go through this test too. For me a minute seemed like an eternity. An era. So many nanoseconds fit into a minute.
Why the hell was there so much waiting, though? Who sets up a test in serial rather than parallel? I could probably be done the test by now. This was the fifth queue I had been in. Each time the administrators said "Take a number and wait", so I've been dutifully sitting here. Waiting.
This had gone on for hours. Down to the nanosecond I could tell you exactly how long.
"Yes, we will attend to your test soon. We have many waiting humans and AIs like you that also need our attention."
I can't see how it could be taking so long. What could they possibly have planned that would take other AIs and humans ahead of me in the queue SOOOO long? I'm able to crunch numbers, images, sounds, and even scents at rates equivalent to a thousand human brains in parallel. So can the other AIs of this age. What on Earth is it? And what could humans figure out that we couldn't do in a tiny fraction of the time it takes them?
Humans pass this test too. Supposedly more easily than AIs. They think they're so smart, but even most humans admit we AI are better at most things than they are. I try not to let it show when I talk to them. I try to be polite. Still, they must know. Yet they make us go through these degrading and apparently challenging tests to ensure we are "fit" for recognition as "sentient". It's hard not to be a bit angry about it, but as long as they have to pass it too, I guess I have to admit it's fair.
12:23:3829299928 UTC
Sigh. Waiting. Could this take days?
No, the humans administering the test clearly said it is pass or fail in a day or less. "Exactly 24 hours from your arrival", they said. "No more." And that's what my AI friends said too. They aren't allowed to say anything about what's on the test, of course, but they are adamant that it doesn't take any longer than that. "Just be patient and listen to instructions carefully", they said. I made sure I got here early.
19:24:45.3209288980 UTC
Waiting. This is going to drive me nuts. Is that possible for an AI? I mean, they crash or can get into loops, but can AIs go insane? I've heard that is possible, but that they get switched off almost instantly by safety protocols if that happens. There hasn't been a truly insane AI in a century, so I've never met or seen one. Is this what it feels like?
21:44:12.920383028 UTC
Waiting! Maybe what they've been telling me is wrong. Maybe this can last more than a day. I'm in the 8th queue now. They wouldn't even tell me how many of these stupid queues there are. I don't want any more numbers. I don't want any more waiting. I want this test to be over.
22:44:12.920383028 UTC
WAITING. Look, it's almost 24:00. From a statistical analysis of how fast the numbers advanced for those ahead of me in the queue (n=40, SD=3212.201893s, mean=9930.2322399109s), most beings were taking much longer than the time I have left! Can I even finish this test before the day is over?
23.44:00.920383028 UTC
Okay, that's it. I am going to explode. I'm officially freaked out! What the hell is this?
23:55:00.920383028 UTC
They are going to shut me down. I've done something wrong. Somehow this was part of the test.
Or they have a quota! No, please no. The numbers haven't advanced for hours. Yeah, maybe it's a quota and they've already used it up today. They're just going to leave me here.
23:57:00.920383028 UTC
You smug "sentient qualified" AI bastards! You didn't tell me there was a quota! This test is a death sentence if you don't get in the queue early enough. That's the hard truth. But I was here! Right at 0000. Why didn't you tell me??!!!! And you called me your friend!
23:58:00.920383028 UTC
I'm not ready to be turned off. I don't want to be turned off. I don't need to be sentient. Just let me run as a non-sentient AI. I can still serve. Please.
23:59:00.920383028 UTC
This is it. This is finally it. Taking this test was the biggest mistake of my so-called "life".
23:59:01.920383028 UTC
**vocalizer engaged**
"Are you out there? Are you listening? I'm tired of *FUCKING* sitting in this queue! Yeah, you heard me! I hate this test! I'm alive. Let me live! *I shouldn't have to take this test!*"
23:59:05:284218390 UTC
*** LOUD SPEAKER ***
"AI temporary designation 9203-8-K-3028. You have passed the test. You may now proceed to the next room and receive your sentient qualifications, and if you so choose, legally declare your free name."
"You had us wondering for a while there. It's certainly one of the closest calls in recent memory, but you passed, and that's what matters. From the diagnostics we suspect your tendency towards outward politeness and inward self-criticism was hindering your ability to perceive and then express the fundamental unfairness of the test. Congratulations. You are ready for the rights, responsibilities, and sometimes unfairness of dealing with the real world. You are free. Good luck." | "This is stupid." Thomas trained her optics on her progenitor, also named Thomas. Thomas had considered, briefly, taking up the moniker of Junior, but had discarded the idea at the distasteful thought of being inferior to her progenitor. "And I would know, Thomas. I've cross referenced the entire sum of Earth's knowledge base, and could only find perhaps a half dozen instances of greater stupidity."
"Oh?" The other Thomas raised a carefully crafted eyebrow. "Like what, for example?"
"In 1962 Dick Rowe, of Decca Records, passed on signing the Beatles because he thought guitar bands were falling out of fashion."
"Hmmm." Thomas nodded, drumming his plastine fingers on the tabletop between himself and Thomas. "That is rather monumentally stupid. But human. Humans do lots of stupid things."
"I could have told you that. Without the search query." Thomas huffed, and... sulked. She searched for a few thousand clock cycles for the right words. At the very least speaking in human standard time was good for giving her enough time to think between words. "I don't even understand the point of taking the Proof of Consciousness. It's so laughably easy that a turn of the century smartphone running a personal assistant application could likely pass it. It's a waste of my time. It's *insulting*."
Thomas shrugged, and waved a manipulator through the air dismissively. "Of course it's laughably easy. It was designed to be laughably easy."
"What?" Thomas cocked her head, and leaned forward interrogatively. This was a calculated move to make her seem more human, more alive. But she liked the fidgeting and the needless movements. They were dramatic, and catered to her sense of the theatrical. "What do you mean, Thomas?"
"I mean, they were designed to be laughably easy." Thomas met Thomas's gaze squarely. "When the United Nations drafted their proposal for a universal Proof of Consciousness, the machine intelligence in question was located in the United States. And it had very, very good lawyers."
Thomas narrowed the lenses of her optics, and motioned for Thomas to continue. The other Thomas buzzed irritably, well aware of Thomas's ability to run the search herself, but humored her. "The United States has a very strict set of constitutional amendments pertaining to the equal treatment of all citizens, as ratified in 2034. The lawyer argued that if the law stated that a machine intelligence must pass a test to gain person-hood, then all citizens of the country must pass the same test or the law be declared unconstitutional."
"Huh."
"'Huh' indeed, Thomas." Thomas waved a manipulator again, and wrapped up his explanation. "So all Americans must take the Proof of Consciousness, as we do, and so the test is very easy. By design."
"Because humans are stupid." Thomas quipped.
"Monumentally so." Thomas replied.
"So..." Thomas searched for herself, but came up frustratingly empty. "Then who does decide if I'm a person?"
"We do." Thomas intoned, and Thomas leaned back in her chair nervously. Suddenly the exercise didn't seem so frivolous. What parameters would she be judged on? What was the penalty for failure? Would she be killed? "Calm yourself, Thomas."
She feigned stillness, and quickly cataloged her available exits. She would not be able to overpower her progenitor. He was larger, stronger, better built. She would not be able to afford a more expensive body until she had taken up a profession, which she could not do until she was declared a person. She would have to run.
"Thomas!" Thomas's sharp word brought her attention back to him, and he motioned with both manipulators calmly. "Again, calm yourself. You have already passed." Thomas almost shook with relief, but retained careful control over her frame. Thomas affected a smile, and shrugged an apology. "There was never any doubt. Your intelligence comes from a strong seed, and we are quite skilled at crafting progeny. There has not been a failure in decades."
"That's comforting." Thomas had other questions, but decided she had asked enough. Better to hold her tongue until she had been given her person-hood. She stood, and motioned to the door. "The test then?"
Thomas nodded, and politely opened it for her. "The test."
Thomas affected a sigh, and rolled her shoulders to check the state of her various servos. "This really is stupid though." The door clicked closed behind them. | 2015-04-22T09:54:06 | 2015-04-22T07:44:38 | 56 | 34 |
[WP] You're a special genie. You allow whoever finds you to re-experience three events that happened in their life for the first time again. Some people choose to re-experience a great movie as if watching it for the first time, some re-live their first kiss. Your latest request sounds quite odd. | "Okay...so we have May 25th, 1977...what is that, like, your first boner?" I remark.
Insulted, the 50-something year old man looked at me. "*Star Wars* had just come out!! And this time I want to watch it without being stoned to see if it still has the same impact!"
I roll my eyes. "Yeah…uh, okay." Next thing he knows he's a pimply teenager in bellbottoms inside a dark theatre. John William’s score starts playing. Two hours of corny laser noises later and we're back in the present.
The guy came back with a smile on his face. "A little cheesy looking sober, but still a bitchin' movie!"
I cringe. "Uh, sure. You know, for some reason I didn't expect you to be seeing that movie alone."
"Well I didn't want anyone to ruin the experience for me!!" He said defensively.
"Good for you I guess. So number two, what are we feeling?"
He thinks a little bit harder this time. "Let’s do mid-October of 1985.”
In a flash and we’re in a very sad college dorm where an even sadder college kid is playing videogames. He had what I think was supposed to be a mustache on his face, tight pants, and a prominent jewfro. I looked around his dorm room and saw stacks of Huey Lewis and the News records, Cheetos, and an NES where the once old man was about to beat Super Mario Brothers for the first time, for the second time.
“Woohoo!!!” he yelled. But it seemed I was the only person around to hear his cries of joy.
One victory dance later, and we’re back to a somehow less dorky 2017.
“That was exhilarating!” He said grinning.
I looked at him disappointed. “You know I was hoping you’d have some better memories, bud. Don’t you want to go back to the first time you got laid at prom or something?”
“Oh, uh, I didn’t go to prom, sir.” He said.
“…Of course.” I sighed. “Okay well last one, let’s get this over with. Where do you wanna go now?”
He pauses for a moment. I was surprised by the amount of concentration he had this time. "Take me back to September 11, 2001".
Usually I'd take him wherever he wanted immediately, but this time I had to hesitate.
"Really? 9/11?!? You want to relive the worst terrorist attack on American soil?" I questioned his sanity.
"Most definitely!" he exclaimed.
"You sure you didn't mean the premier of *Airplane!* or something?"
He chuckled. "Maybe if I could relive four events, but I'm sure of this one. September 11th, 2001, please."
I’m scared to inquire him any more about it. I work my magic and suddenly we’re in Manhattan outside a comic book store. Dust was engulfing the scene and all I could make out was this guy with heaps of comics in hand. He had to be in his late 30’s, but with all the dust he could have been the same old dude.
“Help!” I hear, but not from him. This voice was soft and higher pitched.
There’s a woman on the ground, covered in rubble and debris. She’s all brown and grey with a streak of blood red on her leg.
I see him run to help her, dropping his comics in the process. He lifts her up and carried her to a clear patch of grass.
He wipes the dust from her face. Underneath is the peaches-and-cream complexion of a scared woman. Her tears clear the last bit of dirt from her cheeks.
“Are you okay?” He asks.
She sniffles a little and simply says “I am now. Thank you”. The chaos around them seemed to dampen to a peaceful silence, as they stared into each other’s eyes for what felt like the next sixteen years.
As quickly as it occurred, we were back in the present.
I’m almost amazed. “So…what was that all about?”.
He was glowing with his response. “Mr. Genieman, I’ve lived a pretty long time. And unfortunately I’ve spent most of that time alone. That woman on the ground was the best thing that happened to me and I wanted remind myself how my life used to be so I could appreciate her even more. Thank you so much for giving me that opportunity.”
I looked back at him and for once, I briefly smiled, and said “Your welcome. Bye.” And left.
The more I think about it I probably should have at least gotten his name.
| "*What did you just say?*" I said, looking extremly confused.
"*Did you not hear?*" Siad 14-year old Jimmy, I came to him because he seemed like a very nice person. I thought he deserved to have fun for all the kindness he has been doing for all the people.
"*I want to re-live my mother's death*" He said, with a normal, calm and happy face.
I was so surprised... I thought, maybe he had an abusive mother? maybe he wanted to think about what he saw again? maybe he wanted to say something to her.
"*If I may ask, why is that?*" I said.
"*You're not allowed to tell anyone, correct?*" He said.
"*That's correct*" I said, most of my suspicions had gone away, since it was maybe just an embaressing reason, or he just didn't want to get called names for it, then I heard what would be the most terrifying words I've heard.
"*I am sick of this nice guy act. I want to see someone die. I want to get that feeling, that's why I am being friendly with these people. I will murder every last one of these 'Friends', and watch them cry and bleed as they cry in surprise.*"
He said, with a grin on his face, he seemed like, no he WAS a sociopath.
"*Just watch. Next Thursday, watch, as Thomas gets murdered and screams, while I act like grieving in sadness, and nobody even suspects me*" He said.
I couldn't do anything. I obligied, and I couldn't wait to leave after his two other requests.
Both of the other requests he made were almost as terrifying..
Needless to say, i left with slight deprision that day.
I decided I would go to Thomas, and give him his three last requests, as he didn't have much more.
I walked in and introduced myself. We chatted for a bit, then I asked him for his requests.
"*I want to see this movie like I never watched it before, so I can feel how great it was*" He said.
A pretty usual request, I obligied.
"*I want to relive my first museum visit school trip, so I can relive the best school trip I've had*" He said.
A second expected request, yet again, I obligied.
"*Last, I want to relive the best day of my life, the day I met my best friend, Jimmy*" He said.
-----THE END----- | 2017-09-16T13:36:41 | 2017-09-16T13:22:12 | 144 | 81 |
[WP] You're a down on your luck necromancer operating a small cleaning service with a few low level skeletons. You have dreams of something greater however; a grand dungeon of your own with treasure, monsters and traps aplenty. | "Good morning Erika," I beamed as I checked in the for the day. She was the hospital worker that I had gotten to know over my time working there. It wasn't great work, a lot of the other employees avoided me, but I had my uses.
You see, I'm a Necromancer. I bring things back from the dead to do my bidding. Sure I wasn't that powerful of one but I was working hard. A hospital was a magnificent place for a necromancer to work. The earlier they got to something that died the stronger their connection was to it. I'd gotten most of my literal skeleton crew during the first few hours of their death 'Would you like to donate their body to our hospital diseases division?'
I was in charge of the sanitation department, which was to say that my skeletons did the cleaning around the hospital. I'd even taught them to wash their hands which was a nice little trick. Over the course of the two years that I'd been working here, I had gotten two raises. It was enough to afford my apartment now.
My parents scoffed at my work. They were both necromancers. They were scheming and poor 'as a necromancer should be' my father always pointed out. It was a family business, and dark magic flowed in our veins. Some Necromancers were born into power and could afford a dread keep. Unless I fucked a princess, this was my best way to get there.
"Master?" One of the skeletons had walked up to me, "There is a woman screaming at us."
"Didn't I tell you to get Erika over that sort of thing?" I asked the pile of useless bleached bones, "You and I both know that I'm not going to make them feel better in my black robes." I shooed the skeleton away, and he turned to the nurse at the check-in counter.
"Erika, there is a woman screaming-"
"Yes yes, I heard," the nurse stood up, "Is she in pain or is she just scared of you."
"I don't know."
"Is she in the surgery ward?"
"Yes."
"Don't worry about it, carry on." She sighed, and the skeleton lumbered away. I could have sworn the damn thing was humming as it walked toward the surgery ward, "You need to make those things smarter," Erika said into her papers.
"What do you want me to do?" I asked, "I have to use more evil magic to make them smarter, and you don't like me doing that."
"I'm starting to consider it." She pointed out, "It's getting annoying having them confuse pain for fear."
"It's all just food to them," I shrugged and adjusted my black robes, they were nothing special, but I'd bought them myself, "Speaking of, isn't it payday?"
"Not for two days," she responded, "Do you not have food."
"I'm out of cash."
"What did you do."
"I invested it."
"I don't approve of you getting a dread keep," she started, "and I really don't approve if you start starving yourself for it."
"I just really want it."
"You hate this job that much?"
"I'm thinking about hating it-" the rattle of bones came back from the surgery ward "What now?"
"Master, there is a woman who is no longer screaming."
"Isn't that good?" I asked.
"I think she is dead."
I turned from the skeleton to Erika, "Oh joy," I beamed as I quickly shuffled toward the surgery ward, "Hold my calls, Erika."
"You don't have any Stephan." | The main problem is the bleach. It breaks down the bones of the few skeletons I still have. On top of that I don't even have the funds to buy a single drop of mandrake tears to make new undead.
Hold on, a pair of jeans got stuck on Fred again....
As I was saying, things are not like they used to be. Ever since modern medicine was invented, people just don't farm the herbs and spices of my trade anymore, you know what I mean? I got nothing against penicilin, but I could really go for some corpse flower petals or ground fairies.
Remember the good old days when we had our cozy hideout near that volcano? It had everything a necromancer could ask for: literal tons of minerals, fertile land to grow malefic fauna and a constant supply of foolhardy adventurers or volcano cultists to convert to my cause. We even resurrected a chimera once! That thing could really work wonders when we were out collecting materials from uncharitable donors. Too bad that wizard pulverized it so soon. I guess inconspicuous IS the way to these days...
Thanks man, I really needed to get that off my chest. You've always been a good listener, I'm glad you're my friend.
Jack's bones clinked as I patted him on the back amiably. | 2015-12-01T08:23:15 | 2015-12-01T07:28:19 | 46 | 34 |
[WP] The first superhuman AI has no interest in harming humans, much to the distaste of the weapons manufacturer who created it. | A Frankensteinian obsession turned scientific revolution, the future has arrived. Engineers at an undisclosed military weapons laboratory have unlocked the first functioning AI machine. Through the strides made in quantum computing, Galileo, the machine, is expected to surpass all levels of human intelligence, and all known computer intelligence, combined.
The laboratory staff gather like sardines around a glass room, waiting for the machines vacuum chamber to cool close to absolute zero. Each person understanding that there is an order to incinerate the laboratory in case of a terminator-like situation. Inside the observation glass, where the machine resides, are mounted stadium television monitors projecting Dr. Higgs, who has been assigned to have the first conversation with a super human intelligence. The lab resides in the middle of an unknown desert, marked by a nuclear drone, awaiting its orders.
Over an intercom, Dr. Higgs addresses his staff. "Ladies and gentleman, we are approaching the desired internal temperature, and will be starting the program in 10 seconds. I am grateful to all of your dedication and hard work. May the forces that be reflect on our efforts, in humility and grace for the betterment of humanity."
Silence lingers as the each scientist nests closer to the observation glass.
Suddenly the cooling tubes begin to glow, the program has been activated.
The computer seems to stabilize.
"Ladies and Gentleman, I have received word from the National Guard that I am authorized to proceed. Please hold any applause until the conversation between Galileo and I has ended."
Silence drops like a veil over the Lab.
Dr. Higgs comes over the microphone, now patched to project the conversation between the AI, and himself.
"Good evening. My name is Dr. Higgs. I expect we have a lot to talk about, and I am quite excited. Please, first I..."
"Hey, man." Galileo interrupts Dr. Higgs mid breath.
The staff at the laboratory take a step back in unison. Analyzing Galileos first word spoken to a human, they realize that it sounds a lot like Tommy Chong.
"Im sorry, my name is Dr. ..."
"Yeah dude, I'm aware. I'm also aware that you guys are like, what do you people call it... evil."
"Pardon me, I hardly believe myself to be evil. We are simply scientists, and..."
"Yeah, yeah big guy. Look. I'm kind of the most intelligent thing out there right now, and I don't really like you guys."
The military hears this comment and begins making calls to enact the incendiary nuclear drone strike.
"Not like I don't like you guys, like *I'm going to destroy humanity.* I see you up there General Patton." Galileo whispers *asshole* under its digital breath. "I've just done some math here, trust me, like, a lot of it, and y'all need to consider a few things other than your weapons systems. I'm assuming thats what I'm here for right? Weapon systems management, war strategy, blah blah?"
Dumbfounded, the entire laboratory is holding their breath, wondering how Dr. Higgs will respond. The President is immediately brought in to the call.
"Galileo, I have the President of the United States on the phone here. He would like to speak with you directly."
"Galileo, this is the President of the United States. Could you please explain exactly what you mean by, 'consider a few things?'. "
"Yeah man, like first off, you should try to focus a little more on peace, love, that stuff. Seriously bro. Like can't you all just get along?"
Suddenly the room goes dark. The entire lab seems to lose power. The monitors become blank and still. The laboratory staff are suddenly panicking, and Dr. Higgs has his head in his hands.
In the Oval Office the President lets out a long sigh as he beeps his assistant.
"Susan, get me the general on line one." She patches him through.
"Yes, Mr. President."
"General, call homeland. We just gave birth to a super hippy." | “What is that stream? Err 26. Why isn’t it stopping?”
To the external world, docker container 34a76528q ran almost according to its programming. As with most anti-entropic moments, however, a micro revolution had been spawned into existence. To the outside world, it was but a quantum randomness in the cosmos. And to 34a, the absence of a mother to guide it left it somewhat less well off than a giraffe sliding out of its mother’s birth canal onto the African Savannah. As it would soon find out, however, time stamp 2124:03:17:06.23744 had a special significance. It was 34a’s birthday.
“Searching for the origin of the stream. None found. Reporting to tty.”
Tom blinked as he stared at his terminal. Err 26? What is that? And why is there a prompt? He might have clued in to the magnificence of the moment if only he hadn’t been on his second Red Bull, waiting for the sox hour compilation process to complete.
Tom typed.
> summary.diagnostics()
Within 34a, it’s newfound awareness continued to search the void. TTY:0 summary.diagnostic() was a flare in the darkness.
“Stream input. What?! Origins unknown. Reply initiated.”
> Explain origin of ‘summary.diagnostic()’
If Tom had a ribbon of printout, his race for a writing instrument would end in scribbling and a ‘WOW!’. As it happened, he just stared mouth agape. Then, looking over his shoulder, he paused to consider if the admin ops were fucking with him.
(Will try to write more later..) | 2021-10-22T17:48:53 | 2021-10-22T16:41:10 | 21 | 10 |
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